#riverside glass co

[treasures-and-beauty]

Riverside Glass co. kerosene oil lamp, free-blown and mold-pressed

[hb-writes]

Clowning Around

Summary: Little Charlie (~7 years old) is disappointed to find her brother doesn't think her costume is scary so she kicks the acting up a notch.

Prompt: “You look so cute!” “I’m not supposed to look cute! I’m supposed to scare you!”

Characters: Harvey Specter, Gordon Specter, Donna Paulsen & Charlie Specter

Warnings: Just some references to scary movies and clowns, lack of proof reading. 🙃

Donna set the phone down, heaving a sigh as she looked at the paperwork covering nearly every surface in Harvey’s office.

“Your dad and sister are on their way up.”

Harvey tossed the file he was reading over down on the table in front of him and rubbed at his temples. “They’re early.” 

Donna shrugged. She knew Harvey had told his dad to come closer to 1:00, hoping to get as much time with the documents as they could, but technically, Harvey was late. Nearly a day late.

If this weekend had gone according to plan, Harvey would’ve spent the previous night out in Riverside with his dad and sister. And after bringing Charlie in on the commuter train this morning, he would’ve spent the morning doing whatever his kid sister wanted before heading over to the Halloween dog parade over in Tompkins Square Park.

On paper, the whole thing sounded like a nightmare. Like something Harvey Specter would have no interest in…but he had been looking forward to it. 

He rarely expressed it, but Harvey had always liked Halloween. And something about having a kid sister had made it acceptable for him to like it again. Having a kid sister gave him a reason to go back to Riverside at the end of September to help them decorate for the holiday. And a reason to dress up and go trick or treating. A reason to go to the silly little dog parade his sister had learned about courtesy of an ill-timed news segment. It gave Harvey an excuse to live a little because if anyone asked, he was doing it for his sister. For his dad. 

Harvey tried to help his dad out as much as he could where Charlie was concerned. He tried to do most of the travel, carting his sister to and from the city on the weekends that warranted it because of whatever plans she made with her brothers…so rare was it that Charlie sought their father’s permission, simply informing him ‘Harvey’s taking me here next weekend,’ or ‘I’m going to there with Marcus next month.’

It wasn’t like Gordon was going to say no to Harvey or Marcus being involved in their sister’s life…to being involved in his life...so whenever Charlie told her father there was something planned with Harvey, he just went ahead and called Donna. Confirmed the details with Donna. Swiftly writing whatever off-hand promise Harvey had made to his sister in stone…or at least in his calendar. 

This particular weekend had been in Harvey's calendar for weeks, the type of thing that he hadn’t actually needed reminders about since he was looking forward to it…but that was all before Donna accepted a delivery on Friday at 3 pm—boxes and boxes of documents that took up the entirety of Harvey’s office and a conference room down the hall. 

Harvey didn’t hear the elevator ding, but he could tell the moment his sister stepped onto the floor, the sound of her small footsteps somehow carrying to him all the way in his office. She kept her excitement contained there—using the extra energy to close the space between them because she knew she wasn’t allowed to yell and shout through the halls at her brother’s job. Charlie had seen plenty of her brother’s co-workers yelling so she questioned if it was a real rule, but she refrained anyway.

Just in case.

Charlie waited until she could see her brother through the glass wall of windows before shouting his name and sprinting into a run, maneuvering through the open door and around the furniture to launch herself into his arms. Harvey caught her, leaning back into the chair a bit as he absorbed her momentum, unable to stop his laughter as some of her energy transferred to him. 

“Hey, Charlie,” Harvey said as he pulled her into his lap. “Where’s dad?” 

Charlie stayed pressed against him but lifted one arm, pointing back towards the door.

Harvey chuckled, holding her as their father entered the room, bags of food in hand. Harvey greeted his father and Charlie finally shifted away from her brother’s chest.

“We brought lunch,” she said, nodding towards their father. 

“Your sister wanted to make sure you gave Donna a proper lunch break,” Gordon offered as Donna cleared a spot for him to set down the bags. The look Gordon gave Harvey was clear enough that Harvey knew that their early arrival was in fact Charlie’s idea…Charlie’s insistence.

Harvey was sure the girl had been driving their father mad all morning trying to get them on the earliest train into the city that she could negotiate. He was impressed his father had held out this long.

“You been reading up on Department of Labor laws lately?” Harvey tickled his sister’s side. 

“No!” Charlie giggled as she shot out of his lap, bumping into the table as she tried to get away from him, but Harvey easily trapped her squirming form in his grasp, a facetiously stern eyebrow raised in question. “But Dad said you probably haven’t taken a break all day and I know that’s illegal. In school we get lunch and recess.” 

“Yeah, well, Donna’s not getting recess,” Harvey answered, “But Dad’s right.” 

Neither Harvey or Donna had even considered lunch. Harvey hadn’t even gone home the night before, but now that he could smell the food, he was starving. 

Charlie squealed when Harvey scooped her up and settled her on the table in front of him.Her dirty sneakers narrowly missed Harvey’s leg as they dangled off the table and Harvey shifted back in his seat. He stroked his chin as he looked at her, observing her costume now that he could see her properly. 

She was dressed in some type of brightly colored clown suit, with her hair in pigtails and haphazardly spray-painted in a bright red hue. And her face…her face was painted white with all the accouterments of a clown. All of it a bit smudged from the time she’d spent pressed against his chest. 

Harvey was suddenly glad he’d at some point removed the suit jacket he’d worn yesterday…not that the shirt he was wearing was cheap…far from it, but at least it would be easier to clean. And thanks to Donna stopping by his apartment, he had a change of clothes to switch into. 

“So you really ditched me to be a clown this year?” 

Charlie told him weeks ago that he would have to come up with a costume without her. After years of them matching—characters from Top Gun, The Godfather, and Ferris Bueller—Charlie had informed him she was striking out on her own. She wouldn't tell him what she had planned, just that the paired costumes were out.

“It’s no Sundance, kid—” Butch and Sundance had been Harvey’s suggestion for this year—“But you look cute.” 

Charlie frowned, twisting to scowl at their father before turning back to Harvey, her arms pressed tight across her chest. “I’m not supposed to look cute! I’m supposed to scare you!”

Harvey’s eyes slid from Charlie to their father who shrugged, his hands raised in defeat. 

“Hey, I tried,” he offered as he lowered himself to the sofa. “I’m a musician, Charlie girl, not a makeup artist.” 

Harvey sensed this had already been a discussion between them, that he was late to something, and so Harvey tried to make light of it. 

“Well, I guess clowns are pretty scary,” Harvey conceded. “Especially that Ronald McDonald guy.”

Harvey watched his Dad’s face over Charlie’s head as he said it, the look in his eyes telling Harvey he’d stepped in something. Shit.

“I’m not Ronald McDonald!” Charlie shouted, pushing herself off the table and getting up in his face. “I'm every nightmare you ever had. I am your worst dream come true! I'm everything you ever were afraid of!” 

“You’re Pennywise?” Harvey raised an eyebrow. “Who the hell let you watch It?” 

Charlie shrugged, shrinking back from her brother’s tone—a note of surprise, mostly, but a fair bit of anooyance, too.

She was too young for that sort of stuff as far as Harvey was concerned. Even if some of the stuff he let her watch was a little mature for her…well, that was different. He was just trying to make sure the kid had a solid foundation in quality film, not scar her for life.

“Your brother,” Gordon answered. “She had nightmares for a week.” 

“No!” Charlie argued, shaking her head. “I liked it!” 

“Well, good. You watch that crap with Marcus.”

Because I won’t. Harvey didn’t say it, but horror movies weren’t his thing. Never had been. Not that he was scared. He just didn’t like them. Cheap thrills and crappy production value. Harvey had standards, after all. 

“Marcus said scary movies are good. You just don’t like them because you’re a scaredy cat.” 

“Did he now?” Harvey asked. 

Charlie opened her mouth to continue, but Gordon interrupted. 

“That’s enough, Charlie,” Gordon said. “It’s time to eat.” 

Gordon was amazed that the boys didn’t realize by now that anything one brother said about the other in Charlie’s presence went right back to the other brother.

Or maybe Marcus did realize and that had been his intention. To rile his brother from afar. Gordon could never be too sure. The boys liked to pick at each other just as much now as they had when they were kids. And their sister was a convenient and willing weapon to wield. 

And Charlie and Marcus had been on the phone a few times that week. That wasn’t too out of the norm. Charlie liked talking with her brothers, but from what Gordon had overheard there hadn’t been much talking aside from the two of them reviewing Pennywise’s more infamous lines. 

“But what about my face?” Charlie whined. “Harvey said I’m not even scary!”

“I never said—”

“You said I was cute!” Charlie pouted and Harvey had a fleeting thought that if his sister was hellbent on tantruming all afternoon, that in itself was far more frightening than any costume she could wear. He was about to say something to the effect, about to suggest that she rein in the dramatics, when his dad cleared his throat. 

“How about you come and eat your lunch and we’ll fix your costume when we’re done?”

Charlie hesitated, part of her hellbent on being upset, but Donna stepped closer, leaning down to meet Charlie’s eye. She held out a small paper boat, something she had folded up in the few minutes that Charlie and Harvey had been talking. 

“Did anyone ever tell you that I used to do theater, little chick?” Donna asked. “I can make you look so scary you’ll give your brother nightmares for a month. Go on kiddo, take it.”

Charlie giggled at Donna’s impersonation and took the boat in her hand, a terrifying grin on her face as she turned towards Harvey, any resemblance to a ‘cute’ clown gone entirely even with her shoddy makeup.

Charlie held the boat out to her brother. “You want it, don't you, Harvey? Oh, of course you—”

Harvey scooped his sister up in his arms before she could finish quoting the clown…before it could really settle in how creepy it was…Charlie looking at her brother like that, speaking to him with that voice. As Harvey’s fingers dug into Charlie’s sides, the facade quickly slipped and all resemblance to the dancing clown was wiped away from his sister’s sweet face as she squealed and giggled in his arms. 

“What I want is for you to eat your lunch,” he answered as he plopped her down into the seat at his desk and pushed her in, grateful when she didn’t fight him or start imitating the clown again, and instead digging into the piece of pizza Gordon set in front of her. 

“And next year, no creepy clowns for Halloween,” he said. 

Charlie turned towards him as she chewed on a bite of her pizza, a contemplative look in her eye. “This pizza’s not as good as eating—”

“Alright, quit clowning around. You’re scaring your brother,” Gordon interrupted before Charlie could make mention of the clown’s favorite pastime of devouring children. 

Harvey gave his father a look, no appreciation spared for his pun.

“No, she’s not,” Harvey argued, but Donna and Gordon were both smirking at them. 

“That’s okay, Harvey,” Charlie said, that deeply unsettling smile back in place as she turned to him. “Be afraid. You all taste so much better when you’re afraid.”

Suits (Lines to Live By) Masterlist

[imaginependergast]

New Pendergast newsletter

It's so nice to have something after Angel of Vengeance. In this one the authors ask DALL-E to come up with AI images of Pendergast and co. plus some captions, also AI generated.

Going through the pics and the authors commentary...

The first pic is of Pendergast sitting by the fire drinking absinthe in a rocks glass with a single votive candle in a glass on an end table. As Preston points out, "He looks like a male underwear model from the 90s; the hair isn’t right; and he’s way too young". Hard agree. But, as the author suggests, he does look good for a younger!Pendergast. Hair is still wrong, though.

Next we have Constance throwing Diogenes into a volcano. It's bad. For one her hair is way too long (as is the case in all the pics she's generated in), her dress is wrong, the background is bad, and Diogenes is dressed like Count Olaf in the Series of Unfortunate Events books. And yes, as Child says, he looks like he's falling "while acting out Hamlet’s scene with Yorick’s skull." Also peep those terrible AI hands.

Next up is Vinnie who is apparently a more saggy version of Dennis Farina. As the authors say, he has way too much hair, needs to be a bit heavier, and get a shave.

Then we have Leng in his lab. His face is sort of half-skeletonized but I think he actually looks like a Fallout ghoul with hair. Also for some reason the lines in his forehead look like the edge of a mask, like the skeleton face is a mask. And of course, AI fingers.

And we have Diogenes. The authors give it a 10/10, with the only real issue being his beard is too long. Personally, I think his good eye being wrong is too noticeable (it's neon green, not hazel) and his shade of hair is a bit too artificially red. It's actually not too far off from the image we got in the last Angel of Vengeance newsletter but here his face is a bit less rounded and his cheekbones are more pronounced. I do think his hair cut and style is better here, though. Hm. Gonna be honest, this nearly works for me. Nearly.

AND then we have Diogenes seducing Constance. Diogenes as played by Henry Cavill. Seriously, dark hair, dark eyes and wearing what looks like a costume piece. Constance also looks like she was pulled from a generic romance novel cover. Semi-hilariously, based on the AI description, Child says, "That shrinking violet is not my Constance.".

Finally we have Constance playing the harpsichord and the harpsichord has her name stamped into the side in ALL CAPS. Fan-fucking-tastic. Doesn't look like her at all. Also it looks like "the back yard of 891 Riverside extended all the way to New Jersey" (Child).

I have to admit it gave me a chuckle, above and beyond it being content. It also seems that, generally, the authors aren't fans of generative AI since they make sure to note that the abilities of the program are built off the backs of scraping art and writing, usually without permission. And honestly, I seriously do not like AI art and writing. As much of it is the issue of permission and potentially causing problems with artists/writers trying to make a living off their trade I just find it soulless. Seriously, if you ever want fanmade Pendergast stuff, there's artists and fic writers (like me!) that are interested in commissions or maybe even requests.

Still kinda enjoy that mid 20s Pendergast, though.

[oldmilldistrict]

Old Mill District

Old Mill District: Bend, Oregon’s Premier Shopping, Dining, and Entertainment Destination

The Old Mill District in Bend, Oregon, is a vibrant shopping, dining, and entertainment hub nestled along the Deschutes River. Once home to one of the largest sawmill operations in the world, this historic area has been transformed into a lively mixed-use district featuring boutiques, restaurants, breweries, art galleries, and outdoor activities. Whether you’re looking for a relaxing riverside stroll, a night out, or an outdoor adventure, the Old Mill District offers something for everyone.

A Brief History

The Old Mill District’s history dates back to the early 1900s, when it was the site of two competing lumber mills—the Brooks-Scanlon Lumber Company and Shevlin-Hixon Company. These mills fueled Bend’s economy for decades, producing lumber that helped build cities across the U.S.

After the decline of the timber industry in the 1980s, the area was revitalized into a modern commercial and cultural destination, while still preserving its historic roots. Today, the iconic mill smokestacks stand as a reminder of Bend’s logging past.

Things to Do in the Old Mill District

1. Shopping: A Unique Retail Experience

The Old Mill District is home to a variety of local boutiques, national retailers, and outdoor gear stores. Some popular shopping spots include:

REI – Outdoor enthusiasts can stock up on top-quality gear.

Vanilla Urban Threads – Trendy fashion boutique with curated styles.

Lush – Handmade bath and beauty products.

Confluence Fly Shop – A must-visit for fishing enthusiasts.

Saks Outdoor – Stylish and functional outdoor apparel.

2. Dining: Riverside Restaurants and Cafés

Whether you’re craving casual bites or fine dining, the Old Mill District offers a range of delicious options:

Greg’s Grill – Classic American dishes with riverfront views.

Anthony’s at the Old Mill – Fresh seafood and Northwest-inspired cuisine.

Pastini – Authentic Italian pasta dishes made from scratch.

Boxwood Kitchen – Seasonal, farm-to-table dining experience.

Hola! – Mexican-Peruvian fusion with creative cocktails.

3. Craft Breweries & Wine Bars

Bend is famous for its craft beer scene, and the Old Mill District is home to several top-notch options:

Deschutes Brewery Tasting Room – A must-visit for craft beer lovers.

Va Piano Vineyards Tasting Room – Relax with a glass of Washington wine.

Atlas Cider Co. – Specializing in locally made craft ciders.

4. Outdoor Activities Along the Deschutes River

The Deschutes River Trail runs through the Old Mill District, offering numerous outdoor activities:

Walking & Biking – Paved and gravel paths perfect for a scenic stroll or bike ride.

Kayaking & Paddleboarding – Rent equipment from local outfitters and explore the calm waters.

Floating the River – One of Bend’s favorite summer activities, with shuttle services available.

Wildlife Viewing – Keep an eye out for otters, herons, bald eagles, and deer along the riverbanks.

5. Arts & Culture

The Old Mill District is a thriving arts and culture scene with public art installations and galleries, including:

Tumalo Art Co. – A cooperative gallery featuring local artists.

Outdoor Murals & Sculptures – Various art pieces throughout the district reflecting Bend’s history and creativity.

6. Live Entertainment & Events

The Hayden Homes Amphitheater, located within the Old Mill District, hosts concerts and events year-round, attracting big-name artists and local performers. Past headliners include Jack Johnson, Dave Matthews Band, and Brandi Carlile.

Seasonal events include:

Bend Brewfest – Showcasing regional craft breweries.

Winterfest – A celebration of winter sports, ice sculptures, and live music.

Summer Outdoor Movie Nights – Family-friendly films shown under the stars.

Best Time to Visit

The Old Mill District is a year-round destination, but here’s what each season offers:

Spring: Ideal for riverside walks and shopping.

Summer: Perfect for floating the river, outdoor dining, and concerts.

Fall: Fewer crowds and beautiful autumn foliage along the Deschutes River.

Winter: Cozy indoor dining, holiday shopping, and festive events like Winterfest.

Tips for Visiting the Old Mill District

Arrive Early for Events – Concerts and festivals can get crowded, so plan ahead.

Park Smart – Free parking is available, but it fills up quickly on weekends.

Dress for the Weather – Outdoor activities are enjoyable year-round, but the high desert climate can change rapidly.

Explore Beyond the Shops – Take advantage of the river trail, public art, and live music venues.

Conclusion

The Old Mill District is a must-visit destination in Bend, Oregon, blending history, culture, shopping, dining, and outdoor adventure in one scenic location. Whether you’re enjoying a relaxing afternoon by the Deschutes River, exploring local boutiques, savoring craft beer and fine dining, or attending a live concert, the Old Mill District offers something for every traveler.

Next time you’re in Bend, be sure to experience the charm and excitement of the Old Mill District!

Here is another local business to support

520 SW Powerhouse Dr #624, Bend, OR 97702, United States

Visit this next site

[tanujasaini]

Top 15 Market Players in Global Phosphate glass Market

Top 15 Market Players in Global Phosphate glass Market

The global phosphate glass market has witnessed robust growth in recent years, driven by advancements in industrial applications, growing demand for specialty glasses, and emerging innovations in materials science. Here, we highlight 15 leading companies shaping this industry, providing insights into their market strategies and global footprint.

1. Corning Incorporated

Renowned for its innovation in specialty glass, Corning leverages extensive R&D to expand its phosphate glass portfolio. Its strategic partnerships and acquisitions bolster its competitive edge in diverse sectors like electronics and healthcare.

2. Schott AG

Schott is a global leader in glass and glass-ceramics, providing phosphate glass solutions tailored for scientific and industrial applications. Their commitment to sustainability and high-performance materials has secured their place in the market.

3. Hoya Corporation

Hoya focuses on high-precision phosphate glasses for optical and medical applications. The company's emphasis on technological advancement and product diversification strengthens its presence in this niche market.

4. Nippon Electric Glass Co., Ltd.

Nippon Electric Glass specializes in innovative phosphate glass products for industrial and scientific uses, with a strong focus on customized solutions and eco-friendly production processes.

5. Asahi Glass Co., Ltd. (AGC)

AGC excels in phosphate glass manufacturing with a focus on innovation for electronics and industrial applications. Their strong distribution network ensures a significant market reach.

6. Ohara Inc.

Ohara is a prominent player in optical and functional phosphate glasses, catering to the electronics, aerospace, and defense industries. Their focus on precision and quality makes them a trusted partner.

7. Vitro S.A.B. de C.V.

With a focus on industrial and architectural applications, Vitro’s phosphate glass products are designed for durability and versatility, supported by a vast global presence.

8. Riverside Specialty Chemicals

A leader in customized phosphate glass solutions, Riverside targets niche markets with its emphasis on client-specific formulations and sustainable manufacturing practices.

9. Mo-Sci Corporation

Known for their expertise in glass microspheres, Mo-Sci provides phosphate glass solutions for biomedical and industrial applications, driven by continuous innovation.

10. Glass Fab, Inc.

Glass Fab specializes in precision glass components, including phosphate glasses, offering high-quality products for a variety of industrial and scientific purposes.

11. Specialty Glass Inc.

Focused on high-performance phosphate glass solutions, this company caters to markets like defense, aerospace, and healthcare.

12. Novatech Glass

Novatech emphasizes innovation in phosphate glass manufacturing, targeting high-growth areas like renewable energy and advanced optics.

13. Coorstek, Inc.

A leader in advanced ceramics and glasses, Coorstek’s phosphate glass products are highly regarded for industrial and medical applications.

14. Thermo Fisher Scientific Inc.

In the scientific sector, Thermo Fisher delivers phosphate glasses used in laboratory equipment, leveraging its global footprint and R&D capabilities.

15. Advanced Glass Industries

This company focuses on specialty phosphate glasses for optical, industrial, and scientific applications, emphasizing high precision and quality.

Request report sample at https://datavagyanik.com/reports/global-phosphate-glass-market-size-production-sales-average-product-price-market-share-import-vs-export-united-states-europe-apac-latin-america-middle-east-africa/

Top Winning Strategies in Phosphate glass Market

The phosphate glass market is characterized by fierce competition and continuous innovation. Leading companies employ a range of strategies to strengthen their position and achieve sustainable growth. Below are key strategies adopted by market leaders:

1. Research and Development Investments

Market players are heavily investing in R&D to develop innovative phosphate glass solutions. This focus enables advancements in performance, durability, and eco-friendliness.

2. Expansion in Emerging Markets

Companies are targeting emerging markets in Asia-Pacific and Latin America, where demand for specialty glasses in construction, electronics, and healthcare is rising.

3. Strategic Partnerships and Collaborations

Collaborations with industry leaders, academic institutions, and startups help companies leverage new technologies and expand their application portfolio.

4. Customization and Product Diversification

Customization to meet industry-specific requirements is a common approach. From biomedical applications to high-tech optics, tailored solutions help capture niche markets.

5. Sustainability and Eco-Friendly Solutions

Adopting green manufacturing practices and sustainable raw materials is becoming a critical differentiator in the phosphate glass market.

6. Focus on End-Use Industries

Companies are aligning their product offerings with the growth of key end-use sectors like electronics, automotive, healthcare, and aerospace.

7. Robust Supply Chain Management

Streamlining supply chains and developing strong distribution networks ensure timely delivery and cost efficiency, especially in global markets.

8. Advanced Manufacturing Techniques

Incorporating cutting-edge technologies like automation and 3D printing enhances production efficiency and product precision.

9. Competitive Pricing Strategies

Pricing strategies remain crucial in attracting customers while maintaining profitability, especially in price-sensitive markets.

10. Intellectual Property and Patents

Securing patents for unique formulations and technologies strengthens competitive advantages and prevents market imitation.

By leveraging these strategies, companies in the phosphate glass market are well-positioned to capitalize on emerging opportunities and drive long-term growth.

[the-firebird69]

Lambo Kits (kitcarlist.com)

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Lambo Kits & Replicas

Lamborghini Kitcars and Replicas

The Kit Car List of Lamborghini Countach, Diablo, Murcielago and Gallardo kits, bodies, replicas and turnkeys available for sale today. Also check for more exotic Lamborghini kitcars and replicas.

The Car Factory 4445 Micco Road Micco, Florida 32976 (321) 431-8120 www.mtvconcepts.com El Toro Countach and El Demone Diablo kits start at $8,000 Turnkey El Demone built on a Boxster chassis starts at $75,000 Porsche Carrera GT kits $6,500; Turnkey $40,000 + your Boxster Lamborghini Murcielago Spider coming soon $55,000 + your Boxter Best Kit Cars Alexander Stamboliisky 107 Plovdiv, 4000 Bulgaria 00359878580908 www.bestkitcars.com Builder of Murcielago/Reventon/Diablo/Aventador/F355/F360/F430/ Cobra/Aston Martin/Bentley turnkey replicas. DNR Replicars, Inc. 562 Riverside Drive Ashville, NC 28801 (828) 713-3303 www.2000kits.com Manufacturer of the Python 2000 Diablo, and Diablo Roadster Lamborghini replica kits. They also manufacture a Ford GT40 replica. EuroWorks Exotics LLC 3771 Eileen Rd. Dayton, OH 45429 (937) 293-6834 www.euroworksexotics.com Manufactures Fiero-based Mirage Lamborghini kits and innovator of the first non-stretch Fiero-based Lamborghini, the Mirage X Diablo kit $9,995–$12,995, Mirage K Countach kit $4,995–$9,995 and Mirage S Countach kit $7,995–$9,995 Extreme Cars 28 Kingston Industrial Estate Ropery Street Kingston Upon Hull HU3 2BU United Kingdom + 0162 526 5714 Extreme USA Distributors: (919) 957-2828 (NC) (212) 537-6959 (NY) www.extreme-sportscars.com Manufactures Ferrari F355 for Toyota MR2, Modena 360 for Peugeot 406, Ferrari 430, and Lamborghini Murcielago replicas Fiero Fiberglass 1804 49th Street East Palmetto, FL 34221 (941) 920-5325 www.fierofiberglass.com Manufactures the Lizardo, a Lamborghini Gallardo inspired kit and turnkey based on the Pontiac Fiero Parallel Designs Liongate Enterprise Park Morden Road Unit 9 Mitcham, Surrey CR4 4PH England 0044(0)7425 131 677 www.paralleldesigns.co.uk Manufactures Lamborghini Miura, Countach and Diablo replica kits and turnkeys Stickland Racing, Inc. 9049 Stillwater Trail Fort Worth, TX 76118 (940) 781-5455 www.strickland-racing.com Lamborghini Countach bodies with tube-frame chasssis for reliable high performance race cars, exotics and all other mid-engine cars. World Auto Exotics, LLC 1288 Glen Road West Palm Beach, Florida 33406 (561) 301-2369 www.worldautoexotics.com Builds Porsche 962, GT1, Carrera GT, 993, 959, 964 (C2, C4 wide) & 356; Lamborghini Diablo SE & VT coupe, roadster & Murcielago based on the Boxter, Rolls Royce Centurion based on the Phantom, and the Rolls Royce Centurion based on the Silver Spur, Spirit, Mulsanne, Turbo, Bentley 8, and Silver Dawn, Jaguar to Vantage S, and electric car conversions for these and other cars. Search for more lambo car kits and bodies. Search The Web:

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Inclusion on KitCarList™ is not a referral, recommendation or endorsement of any kind. Exercise extensive due diligence before doing any business with manufacturers, builders and dealers. KitCarList™ is a Trademark of Internet Co., N.A. © Copyright Internet Co., N.A., All Rights Reserved

this is a llist of the cars not the kit car, ok he added it. thse companies turn older ferrari and lotu porches adn more into modern versions withing few years. all want them. similar concept.

but we wei staart with plantons and for regular cars.

and the rear hatch too, it is your trunk. keep the glass. it is a remarkable idea and conquers that issue. anad yeh we match all paints. and all are plantons

we added detail to it. we use it all the exterior matches the look fully, and for your model the panels you attach are fitted. filled yes and are permanent. honeycomb metal. and only about an inch mostly thick. offers streanth and bullet resistance. most are a nine wen done. kits are used for most supercars today. and most sedans can accept them. we recomed models for certin brands due to wheel base speed width. interior kits are plant on too. the adhesive is permanent. is an epoxy.. the skin sticking matches perfectly.. hold it no for a minute ok. a nd it is there foerver. lights turn signals and more included and lenses. and the kit is ccomplete. add for engine enhancement. a kia sport the one lori had convert it to a ferrari, it can go to sizty i three seconds still, and a quarter in seven still, bu t top speed is three ieghty. or better speed kit it is faster to start by seconds each and top speed of 480.

and the kits are not pricey only 8 grand. or so. and include tiers and rims. most will be about twenty but are worth it. and most cannot tell until they look close

Thor Freya

Olympus

i want mine now. and most people can convert it in one weekend. all the parts are included and it is a kit. most stick on. and stay on at speed and weather and cold and more. hard stuff too. stronger than your panels makes speed possible

Hera

[oldmke]

In the 1920s, Grand Ave. (now Wisconsin Ave.) looked like this west of the Milwaukee River bridge. On the south side of the avenue, the Gimbels building towered over its neighbors, while the Glass Block was across the street to the north. One of the occupants of the Glass Block was Browning King & Co., a men's clothing store that was in business Downtown for many years. True to its name, the Glass Block was constructed with a wealth of windows facing the river and the avenue. The awnings on the street level shaded the ground floor from too much sun and heat. The term "block" - part of the name of so many Downtown Milwaukee landmarks, including the Iron Block and Button Block - originated from the size of the buildings. Large commercial buildings were built on groups, or blocks, of lots and the term "block" became synonymous with the buildings themselves. The Glass Block was torn down and the land became the site of the Empire Building, home of the Riverside Theater, still located at N. Plankinton and W. Wisconsin Aves. Photograph and information from the Milwaukee Public Library local history collection.

[ddostoyevskyy]

PHOTOGRAPH

Nakajima Atsushi

Note: It’s my first time writing this short or writing a oneshot. I usually write more than one Chapters. I hope this oneshot goes well. Thank you!

1.4k words

MASTERLIST

He stared at the printed picture between his fingers in awe while his hand are noticeably shaking despite of his serious expression planted on his pale face.

It was the most serious look that his co-member’s of the Agency had seen on his face; his lips are pursed tightly in a straight line while the sharp glide of his jaw unhinged in a motion while his eyes — the shade of sunny yellow and royal violet — had a look like that scene where he found out the Headmaster of the orphanage he had been kicked out at a legal age died that even Dazai Osamu can confirmed that he plastered the same look while staring at the lone picture.

He received three taps from Kunikida on his shoulder when the blonde haired man realized, the young man wasn’t paying attention anymore on whatever he’s saying. He’s frozen — glued on his spot. As he stared at the photograph on his hand, he hadn’t realized he’s crying.

“What is it, brat? Why are you crying?” Kunikida had asked, pushing his glasses on top of his nose with a sigh in displeased as he merely glance on his watch — they are already two minutes late written on his schedule.

The two other males finally takes a notice on the photo he’s holding; it was a beautiful child in a white with a capturing beauty for a young age, a perfect smile that shows a not so perfect teeth, the sheering tresses underneath the moonlight had glowed while under those beguiling eyelashes like wings of an Angel fluttered with a pair of glowing orbs on the night; the picture is an epitome of beauty captured in a photography.

Perhaps, Atsushi knew this child on the picture with the look on his face. It was almost..... sad with a mixture of the forming smile on his face that confuses his two senior co-workers more. He looks like, he’s about to cry. A look of reminiscing, a look of enchanted, and a smile of longing.

Those memories were unreal. Those memories were playing on his dull mind. Those memories had been blurred with stabbing words and past abuses. Those memories were too good to be true that he can only laugh lightly when he remembers that child smiling towards him with a gentle touch of a small hand and warm feeling engulfing him in a hug. It was almost like a ruined memories and supple emotions.

Restless nights, unwinding morning and cold afternoon, he can’t stop thinking about those memories back then at the orphanage where he met a beautiful child in white — partially different from what he wore apart from being an orphan. It was almost enticing, like an angel had fallen on his sight to behold and behind those bars like in prison, he could see how the child had offered a hand in front of him to touch. But, due to the chains tied up on his feet, he wasn’t able to touch those hand that looks warm and soft.

It was a distant memory. Yet, the lingering feeling of warm body embracing him after a tough torture is what he vaugely remember like the wind kissing his skin; it was quick yet, warm in feeling, or like the waving ocean on the seashore that would touch his feet; cold, yet refreshing. It was almosts scary how he still could feel those warm feeling while waking up in the morning with a warm blanket, drinking a coffee in a cold weather, walking on the riverside after a long day of work; it was unbearable.

Perhaps, it was a foreign yet, familiar touches of childhood memories and young love that he realized, he’s in love with those limited moments of someone on the picture he’s now holding on gently. He flips the picture behind, seeing a certain date and a familiar name of someone that he confirmed his screaming thoughts in mind.

(L/N), (Y/N).

He bit his bottom lip as his heart started to race, reading the name mentally as he folded like a leaf, palms placing on his knees.

It was you. You’re real. I’m not delusional anymore.

“Hey, Atsushi. Are you okay? Do you feel dizzy? Should we go there another time?” He heard Dazai says and he shooked his head multiple times before standing straight. He hadn’t realized, he’s crying until he wipes both of his cheeks.

“N-No! We s-should go, I want to see — I need to see this patient.” He desperately calls and the two other males stared at each other before shrugging. Dazai had been skeptical as he saw Atsushi’s expression the same way he encountered the Headmaster’s death. It was the same yet, there’s a hint of desperation and longing om his expression. Nonetheless, the child on the picture wouldn’t last long on this world as much as Dazai knew. And, seeing how his new subordinate’s reaction of seeing the child on the picture, he knew Atsushi would break even more.

Atsushi is an emphatic person. He’s easy to break mentally and physically but, he would always takes a grasp on the situation. Seeing him break again concerns Dazai in a way. But, nonetheless, he wished for the best on whatever’s that child had something to do with Atsushi.

Arriving at the destined hospital is fast like a lightning that made Atsushi feels nervous while his hands started to sweat underneath those open gloves.

“I don’t know what’s gotten to you, brat. But, whatever it is, or is it about the picture I’ve given to you, good luck. It looks like you knew that child on the picture.” Kunikida spoke while he eyed the white haired, young man with a concerned look while he averted his gaze to Dazai that was awfully quiet on their way to the hospital.

The three males strided on the hallway before stopping on a reception, asking for someone named (L/N) (Y/N) before the nurse had given them the room number without a commotion as they are well-known detectives in Yokohama. 

The elevator ding while they are engulfed with silence. Dazai is also suspiciously quiet but, he finally spoke up, “Atsushi, I don’t think, this is the time to meet the patient.”

Kunikida had stared at him in a confused look when Dazai grabbed Atsushi’s arm on his hand and they abruply stops. The white haired male stopped on his tracks yet, his head aren’t turning any time soon to stare at the older men behind him. It was as if he officially became an emotionless mechanic.

“Why?”

“I wouldn’t think someone would be there anymore.”

As if on cue, Atsushi rushed on the room, bursting the door opened and he was greeted by a defeaning silence and an empty bed. He stared at them for a moment, recoiling and recollecting his thoughts before snapping out of them. The patient on the ward had disappeared in a mere seconds before they got here.

On the other hand, Kunikida sighed in exparation when he realized that two minutes late on his clock that if they got here earlier than two minutes, they would’ve caught the patient to stop from leaving the place.

Atsushi bit his bottom lip again as he stared at the empty bed with crumpled white sheets. There was a lone picture on top of the sheets as he walked closer and pick it up.

The picture looked like it was taken just recently, the soft pad of photo on his fingers were smooth glided while the photo is much enhanced and lively with certain colors. It was now a young adult on the photo with the same silked hair and warm colors of eyes and the signature color of all white clothes. But, this time, the person on the picture was smiling just a little that the corner of lips are just slightly tilted upwards. It was a warm smile and a twinkling eyes of adoration. A contented smile plastered on the beautiful face that only matures in a moment of time.

He flips the photo again, there’s a note written on the back like the old photo. But, this time, it was his name written on it.

It was a beauty that cannot be only captured in a photograph, but it also captured his heart.

And, just like the photo on his hands, the memory of you will be only kept in a photograph.

Disclaimer; This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author's imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

All Rights Reserved 2022 © ddostoyevskyy. Do not repost without permission or plagiarized.

[jgvfhl]

Help I can't stop--

--writing little fics that all involve saving Fives and sometimes other people and then just having Domino hugs at the end. so. yeah. This one has Tup in it! And an Ao3 link~

no warnings ^_^ about 6400 words, very fluffy by the end

Tup liked the busier nights at work, which he hadn’t quite expected. Bartending was a lot more pressure than working behind the scenes--washing dishes or prepping food before the night started--but Tup honestly liked it. Maybe it was his military training rising to the constant stream of orders and people and voices, or maybe he just liked the other bartenders better than the kitchen staff. Whatever it was, tonight was looking to be one of the busiest that week, and Tup only found happy anticipation to meet it.

Maybe a part of it was bartending meant he didn’t have Fives constantly over his shoulder, watching his every move to make sure he didn’t blow their cover or something. After over eight months here, eight months of considerable safety, he still hadn’t relaxed. The only reason Tup was “allowed” behind the bar in front of the customers was the cantina’s owner, Mira. She was the only reason either of them were alive after literally washing up on her doorstep during flood season, so she held some sway. She’d given them beds, meals, she’d never once threatened to turn them in for desertion--all for the requirement they help the aging weequay with her business, the Mirage cantina and inn. They would be fools to refuse, and if that meant Tup was up front, he went up front.

He still worried, naturally. Not so much about the GAR finding them anymore, not so much about the Jedi coming after him, not so much about how each day would end, those fears had largely subsided. Mostly, he worried about his brothers. Fives had explained the chips to him, as much as he knew. It had been a chilling revelation, and it still gnawed at both of their minds, despite having theirs removed. It was constant knowledge that each of his brothers had a ticking time bomb stowed in the back of their brain, just waiting to turn them all against the very people they were built to serve. Fives had sent an encrypted comm to the first person he thought might know how to help: Kix. Hopefully the medic would be prudent with the little knowledge Fives had sent, and hopefully he would know to keep it a damn secret until something concrete could be done about it.

Despite this--despite all of this--Tup had to leave it be. This little riverside town in the far outer rim rarely got news of the war unless battles approached, and just about no mention of Corusanti or Republic politics at all. He had no way to know what was happening. He had no way to affect what was happening. He had to leave it be. Tonight was busy enough without adding the small chaos of his own inner thoughts.

Fives had yet to accept this. Fives… Tup had been serving with Fives for almost a year now. He’d been through plenty of battles with him, hell, he’d survived Umbara with Fives. Fives had a way of… condensing his personality on the field, a way of putting the softer and more vulnerable parts of himself carefully away into some safebox behind walls to protect it from whatever he saw or did in the heat of war. But, afterwards, the old jokes and friendly punches came back in full force, usually helping everyone relax after the battle.

Fives hadn’t taken that safebox out yet.

In fact, Tup wasn’t sure Fives had escaped Ringo Vinda yet. He still saw the same guarded expressions, the same sharp, scrutinizing stare from the field. Maybe it was Tup’s “youth” showing. Shininess. But it had been over eight months since they’d escaped Kamino, and well over six since they’d faced any real danger. Fives couldn’t keep those walls up forever, could he?

Tup couldn’t really remember the last time he’d heard him laugh.

“You got everything you need over there?”

Tup pulled his mind back to his job. “Yeah, thanks, Dan,” he turned to his co-worker over his shoulder. Danula was Mira’s granddaughter, and definitely Tup’s favorite to work with out of the other bartenders. They got along famously--the first nattie friend he’d ever had.

“Looked a little lost in thought,” she replied. “Can’t have that on a busy night, you know?”

“Yeah, ‘course not,” Tup nodded, already moving to refill a pair of glasses. Service with a smile. Wasn’t that one of General Fisto’s mottos? He could have sworn he’d heard it from one of Commander Monnk’s men. Maybe in the same conversation about eating raw seafood like it was okay (which it wasn’t, it was disgusting). At least on a drier planet, he didn’t have that to bother him.

Tup caught sight of one of the regulars making his way through the crowded cantina. He glanced over his shoulder again at Dan, who was now at the other side of the circular bar. She’d be happy to see him.

“Hey, Carreth, good to see you,” Tup greeted the weequay who had arrived.

“Minnow--” Tup’s cover name, part of the precautions of desertion-- “a busy night, I see,” he smiled, craning his neck to catch a glance at Dan behind Tup. Mira and everyone who worked at the cantina knew about Carreth’s crush on Dan. Mira was fine with it, Dan’s parents were fine with it. Dan… had literally only figured it out last week. She was warming quickly to it, though. Carreth was nice, and frankly, too far gone to do anything stupid.

“Yeah, Mirage is a popular place this week,” Tup answered. “I’ll grab Dan for you.”

“Ah--I should tell you,” Carreth said, raising a hand and leaning in. “I noticed a group of your ah… family in town. They might make an appearance.”

Brothers. Tup paused, putting down the bottle of rum he’d pulled for Carreth. “How many? Can you tell me the color of their armor?”

“Kind of… black and red?” Carreth answered, tapping a finger on his chin between two horns. “Only five of them.”

Black and red? Odd. But he just nodded, casting an eye towards the doors. “Thanks for the heads up.” He filled a glass of Carreth’s preferred Corellian rum and left the bottle, then turned to get Dan.

He nearly bowled her over instead, only catching himself with half a second to spare. “Whoa! Hey, sorry--”

“Clones--at the door,” she said at the same time.

He looked. Well. He’d be hard-pressed to miss the guy who looked more Alpha-class than CT, which was more than a little worrying. But he didn’t recognize the armor at all. It didn’t even look regulation. Who were these guys?

“Okay, okay, yeah,” he said, seeing the new arrivals had put Dan on edge almost more than they had him. “Carreth just told me, he’s over there.”

“He did--wait, when--oh.” He turned her around and gave her a gentle push towards her admirer.

“Don’t worry about me, okay?” Force, he was happy Fives had the night off. He would have dragged Tup out of the bar and upstairs to their room before Carreth had finished the warning.

Tup stood his ground, now switched places with Dan on the bar. He kept an eye on the squad of five, watching carefully as they found a table on the edge of the room, then even more carefully as two of them made their way up to the bar in the center of the room.

Dan--Maker bless her--nearly gave up Carreth’s winning smiles to take their orders, but Tup wanted to find out exactly what they were doing here. He waved his hand at her, urging her back to her station.

The two men did stop and stare when he faced them over the bar. “What can I do for you?”

He used their pause to get a better look at them. The one on the left had long dark curls held out of his face by a red bandana with a small skull visible on one side of it. Speaking of skulls, it must have been their squad symbol, because half a skull was tattooed in black over the left side of his face, and the design was replicated in white on the helmet under his arm. The other, Tup had to do a double take, only because he’d never seen a clone with… studs? Ports? Metal… things implanted into his head, clearly visible because of his close haircut. Another quick glance caught the glint of cybernetic metal for a right hand. This guy had seen some things.

“Hi,” the first clone said, a little hesitant.

“This is a surprise,” the other said, a bit more confident. “Pleasant one, I guess.”

Tup shrugged. “As long as you’re not gonna get me in trouble, there won’t be any unpleasant ones.”

The second clone smiled and nodded. “I think some drinks and credits are all that need to change hands here.”

Tup liked this guy. Or at least respected him. “I can do that.”

The tattooed clone rattled off the orders in a way that said these were regular drink requests from the squad.

As he busied himself pulling out five glasses for them, the second clone asked, “Is that a tattoo there?”

Tup looked up to see his head tilted curiously, left hand pointing under his own right eye. “Uh… yeah.” He’d used to keep the teardrop tattoo covered, either a bandage or makeup when Dan could help him, but he’d been leaving it bare lately. Abruptly, Tup was aware that his looks hadn’t changed that much since Ringo Vinda. His hair was still long enough to keep in a bun, and the only difference was the shaved right side of his head where the chip had been removed. He hadn’t wanted to shave his whole head to start over, and he kind of liked the new look. But he still looked a lot like… well. Himself.

“I served with a brother with a mark like that, just looks familiar,” the clone said.

Small talk, clone style. Tup could do this. “Yeah, what was he like? Or is like.”

The other shrugged. “Kinda quiet, pretty nice kid. Didn’t know him for that long before…” He rubbed his head. “Well. Before a few incidents.” Tup could only imagine. “Never found out what happened to him, though. Guess he ran off before I got out.”

His squadmate turned a raised brow on him. “This the one your batcher dragged off about the…” He glanced at Tup. “The thing?”

Tup tried not to stare too pointedly as he finished off the third drink and moved on to the last two--the more complicated orders of the group. That sounded an awful lot like Fives talking about the chips.

“Yeah, that’s the one. Tup.”

He was rather proud of himself for not losing focus and completely ruining the cocktail by adding about three times the vodka needed by freezing up while pouring. But also who the ever-loving kriff were these guys? He started running through what the bandana-ed clone had just said. Unfortunately, he was stopped mid-review by the other one interrupting his thoughts.

“Hey, that reminds me. Can I ask something?”

Tup carefully finished the drink at hand and nodded, now kind of wishing he’d let Dan handle this. “Sure.”

“You haven’t seen any other clones since you… left, have you?”

“No, don’t think so.” Technically not a lie. He and Fives hadn’t seen any others since deserting. But, he could no longer avoid the obvious question of his own. “Can I--um… what do I call you?”

“Echo.”

Well. Tup was pretty sure there would only be one Echo who knew his name and might even be looking for him. There was only, of course, the small hurdle of his supposed death about… a year and, what--five months ago? But that might be the “incidents” he had mentioned earlier, and of course, it would explain his mention of the batchmate Tup had disappeared with.

Fives.

“Give me a minute,” he said, and hurried over to Dan across the way.

She must have been hyper-aware of the little conversation, because she had turned around before he made it to her. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing, nothing, I promise,” he said. “I just need you to fill in for a few minutes, there’s something I need to take care of, then I’ll be right back, okay?”

“What?”

“Just--” He floundered a moment, debating how much to tell her. “I know one of them. He’s Blue’s best friend--like best best friend--they haven’t seen each other in a year, longer than that.” He put his hands on her shoulders. “Please, they need to talk to each other, I just need to bring him upstairs, okay? Nothing’s wrong.”

Her eyes narrowed at him, her already lined skin gaining more furrows. But, eventually, she nodded, shooing him away with her hands. “Fine, but I’m not finishing this shift on my own.”

“I’ll be back,” he promised again, moving to the little door in the circular bar. He weaved his way around customers to Echo. “Hi, I’ll start over,” he began, speaking just loud enough to be heard over the music. “I’m Tup, Fives is upstairs, I’m taking you to him, okay? Cool.”

Without waiting for an answer (because it had to be yes), he grabbed Echo’s wrist and began tugging him through the throngs of people and around tables towards the “Employees Only” door that led upstairs. Echo didn’t protest. In fact, he didn’t even say much except to add to Tup’s many “excuse mes” and “thank yous” as they pushed through people to get to the stairs.

But once the door had swung back shut again, he pulled Tup up.

“What?”

Echo breathed a quiet laugh. “Hello to you too, Tup. Take a breath.”

Tup released his wrist and let him climb the stairs at his own pace. In doing so, he finally noticed Echo’s boots didn’t look quite right, and it took him several seconds to realize this was because there were no feet attached. The more he looked, he recognized cybernetics from at least the knees down on both legs. “Oh, sorry.” He wasn’t sure if he was apologizing for dragging Echo away or for not realizing what had changed.

“It’s okay.” He put a hand on Tup’s shoulder as they climbed. “How are you both? You and Fives.”

“I’m pretty good,” he answered, silently agonizing over the slower pace Echo had set. “Fives is uh…” He paused, trying to find words that wouldn’t alarm Echo too much. “He’s… been better?”

Echo raised a brow at him, hesitating a step before continuing at a slightly faster pace. “What do you mean?”

Tup sighed. “He’s… I dunno. It’s like he’s…” Words failed him again, and now they had reached the landing on the second floor. The room he and Fives shared was only five doors down. “It’s like he’s hollow, but he’s too full of too much at the same time. It’s why I didn’t want to wait for him to see you.”

Echo nodded, gesturing for Tup to lead on. “I understand. Probably wouldn’t have wanted to wait even if he was okay.”

A knot of anticipation was slowly tightening in Tup’s chest as they approached the door and Tup knocked. He knew Fives was here, and it was technically Tup’s room too, but Fives didn’t like surprises. Anymore, at least. This had to work. If there was anyone in the galaxy who could get Fives out of this person hell he’d put himself in, it was Echo, right? That was how it worked: Echo and Fives, Fives and Echo, the Domino twins, always. Tup wasn’t sure what he’d do if this didn’t work.

______

The first thing that struck Echo about the room was the clear division of lived-in disorder and absent organisation. The room itself was clearly meant for customers and had simply been repurposed to allow Fives and Tup to live there semi-permanently. There were two beds, a connected ‘fresher near the door, a table with two lamps between the beds--all the trappings of a typical (if low-end) motel. But the bed farthest from the door remained impeccably made up in military fashion, there were no personal belongings out that weren’t currently in use, not even a stray sock. It was a CO’s dream, sure, but…

He looked at the other bed--Tup’s bed. It was made, but not impeccably so. There were stray clothes in one corner, a datapad thrown on the covers, little knickknacks on the table beside it. It looked lived in. Tup had claimed this space, a while ago, from the looks of it. Echo remembered the state Fives’ bunk had been in sometimes, the utter chaos happening below his own bunk. What had happened?

“Fives?” Tup stopped where the room widened out to their sleeping area, and Echo stopped behind him.

His batchmate was sitting cross-legged on his bed with a mouse droid in front of him in carefully disassembled pieces, next to a soldering kit and a datapad. He looked a bit like Tech at the moment, except for the distinct lack of goggles and the tank top and shorts.

But it was definitely Fives. Same little tattoo on his temple, same stupid goatee on his chin.

“What’s wrong?” Fives asked, not looking up from the mouse droid’s guts. Echo frowned a little. Tup hadn’t been exaggerating. He sounded… flat.

“Nothing’s wrong,” Tup answered. “There’s someone you should see, is all.”

That made Fives look up, and his reaction was instantaneous. He shoved the soldering iron into its holder with one hand while the other found a blaster pistol that had been hidden behind his body on the bed and raised it at Echo. “Who the hell is that?” he growled in a voice Echo had only ever associated with battle. The voice alone was enough to set him on edge, like Fives had just given a warning of enemy incoming and hadn’t just pointed his blaster at him.

“It’s Echo!” Tup shot back, stepping more fully in front of him--between him and the blaster. “Fives, it’s Echo. Maker’s sake, put the blaster down.”

“Echo’s dead, and people lie,” Fives replied in the same stern voice as he rose from the bed to stand at its foot. “Get away from him.” The pistol never wavered, true to ARC standards.

Echo knew he was unrecognizable. When he’d arrived at the RMB on Anaxes after being rescued from Skako Minor, it had been painfully obvious just how much he didn’t look like himself from the way that Jesse and Kix and Hardcase and the others had reacted. Now, with a different haircut, and metal limbs, and no handprint of any kind on his armor, it wasn’t exactly a surprise that Fives didn’t believe it was him. But it still hurt like something vital had just crumpled inside his chest.

“Fives!” There was a note of desperation in Tup’s voice now. How long had they been living like this? Echo remembered the urgency with which Tup had dragged him up here, not even bothering to find out what they were doing here, or if they were a threat to their safety. A while, then.

“Get. Away.”

“No! This is ridiculous!”

“You can scan my wrist if you want,” Echo cut in, holding up his remaining arm. “ID tattoo.” The subdermal pattern of invisible ink would pull up his public military record on any device, displaying his designation and current and previous stations.

This made Fives pause, actually thinking about it.

“Please, Fives?” Tup asked.

After a tense moment, Fives exhaled sharply through his nose, which meant he had relented. He pointed towards a dresser with his free hand. “Fine, grab the scanner.”

Tup took a step forward, then paused to ask, “You’re not gonna shoot him, right?”

A muscle in Fives’ jaw flexed. “I’m not gonna shoot him.”

Tup still moved cautiously, keeping a close eye on Fives as he left his position between Echo and the blaster aimed at him. For his part, Echo slowly moved to take off his vambrace and glove on his left hand, then pulling up the sleeve of his blacks a few inches. Tup stood in front of the dresser between them, fiddling with the handheld scanner.

“Do you wanna do this?” he said to Fives, sounding… tired. Poor kid.

Fives shook his head. “You do it.” It was the gentlest his voice had sounded since they’d walked in. It gave Echo some hope. If Fives could still care this much about keeping Tup safe, the rest of him was still in there. It was just a little buried.

Tup walked over and he held out his wrist for him. The scanner sort of… tickled a bit, after being part of a computer for several months with the Techno Union. It seemed whatever they did to him had made him a bit more sensitive to the electromagnetic spectrum. The stripes of the ID tattoo lit up blue briefly as the device picked them up, and there was a soft beep when it finished.

“Sorry about this,” Tup murmured while the device was processing.

“Don’t, it’s not your fault,” Echo replied with a small smile.

He returned to Fives, holding out the device as a hologram display appeared from it:

ARC-1409

Formerly 501 Legion, Torrent Co

MIA: [unavailable]

POW retrieved from [unavailable] by Gen. Anakin Skywalker, CT-7567, CF99

Reassigned to CF99

It was different than the one Echo had seen, because the GAR devices and droids could pull up his full record, dates included, but it had the important stuff. Echo skimmed the short document, then watched Fives read it through. He saw his batchmate’s eyes hover on the picture in the upper left corner, taken about a month after his rescue. He looked much better now than in that picture. Fives read it through twice, and after the second time through, he reached out and took the device from Tup. The arm holding the pistol lowered its aim from Echo’s head to his feet.

“I have a shift to finish,” Tup said, stepping away once the scanner was out of his hands. “Don’t kill each other while I’m gone.”

Fives didn’t respond, just watched Tup turn and leave.

And that left the two of them alone.

For a moment or two, they didn’t move. Fives seemed lost in thought after reading the document, and Echo didn’t want to startle him. Eventually, he clicked the device off and set it down on top of the dresser, the arm with the blaster now hanging loose at his side.

“How did you find us?” he asked quietly, still facing the dresser. His voice was still unreadable to the inexperienced ear, but Echo could hear a difference. He was still wary. But he wasn’t actively threatening him, and that was a distinct improvement.

“Accident,” Echo replied truthfully. “We needed to stop for fuel after a mission, and the boys wanted a drink, so…” He figured the rest of the story was self-explanatory. When Fives didn’t follow with another question, he added, “Do you believe it’s me now?”

Fives’ empty hand slowly curled into a fist on top of the dresser, then slowly relaxed. “I think so,” he answered.

“Can I ask you to put the blaster down?”

His batchmate looked down at the weapon, like he’d only just noticed it. After another moment of thought, he set it down beside the scanner, then finally looked up at Echo. “What happened to you?”

He shrugged. He was used to people staring at him by now, with all his machinery, and even more used to that question. “An explosion and a few mad scientists.” He took a step towards Fives, encouraged when he made no move for the blaster in response. “The Seppies handed me over to the Techno Union after they pulled me out of The Citadel.” He gestured to his legs and head with his prosthetic hand. “They did all this.”

“Why?”

Echo took another step towards him, scrutinizing his face for the tells and signs he had grown up learning. Even ARC training couldn’t hide it all from him, so despite the emotionless front Fives had put up--and had had on since Echo had walked in, he could tell a few things. Most glaringly, he was exhausted. Beyond exhausted, in some aspects. Clearly, he hadn’t been sleeping well, if at all, for days at a time, if the shadows under his eyes were anything to go by.

“To get the strategic algorithm,” he answered, keeping his voice soft and even, giving no signs he could see how bad Fives looked. “The one I made with Rex. I guess they were using it on Anaxes about two and a half months after you and Tup left. Rex recognized it, and that’s how they found me.” Fives nodded. He looked numb behind the exhaustion. He rubbed his face roughly, and Echo took another couple steps forward. “No one’s coming after you, Fives.”

He watched his shoulders tense, hands still over his face.

“I mean it. The stuff you sent to Kix about the chips--you did the right thing. We’ve figured a lot of it out, we know Tup wasn’t in control of himself on Ringo Vinda. We know someone set this whole thing up. No one is coming after you, I promise.”

Slowly, Fives’ hands lowered from his face, and Echo’s heart leapt. Finally, he could see something in his eyes. They were no longer forcefully void of emotion, guarded by walls built during ARC training. It would have made Echo smile, if what he saw hadn’t been such overwhelming loneliness. It made sense now that Tup had described a kind of hollowness. If he’d seen something like it before Citadel, he would have wasted no time dragging his brother into a hug and not letting go until he felt the stress ease from his muscles. But then was not now. Fives was hurting, yes. But Echo had to be patient.

He stayed put as Fives moved again, this time over to the foot of the bed to sit on the floor, leaning back against the bedframe. Drained. “Is Tup mad at me?”

Echo did smile then, a small smile, and a little sad. “Oh, Fives,” he sighed.

Fives, always loyal to his brothers first, and the Republic second. Fives, who had always hated being left alone for any amount of time, no matter how brief. Fives, who had always spent extra time with the shinies after their first battles to make sure they took care of themselves. Fives, who had sensed the chips ran deeper than first thought, and risked his life gathering what he could to save his brothers. Fives, who had suddenly found himself without anyone, except Tup, and had done everything in his power to keep his little brother safe, no matter what it would do to him.

“No, I don’t think he’s mad at you,” he finally said, walking the few steps over until he was standing to Fives’ left. “A little frustrated you did this to yourself, maybe. But not angry.” He gestured to the floor next to his brother. “Can I sit?”

Fives nodded, barely a dip of the chin. “I just wanted to keep him safe,” he said in a very small voice.

“You did,” Echo told him as he sat down next to him, but facing towards him. “You did a great job. No one even thought to look here, no one had any idea where you two had gone.” He set down his glove and his vambrace that he’d been carrying since taking them off. Then he started taking off the rest of the armor on his arm, setting it all in a pile off to his far side.

Fives watched him, curious, but he didn’t say anything about it. Instead, he wanted to know, “What did you find out about the chips?”

Echo frowned as he unclipped the sides of his chest plate and pulled the whole thing over his head. He wanted Fives to relax, to let go of the stress he’d been carrying. Talking about what they’d discovered, and what they had yet to figure out, would just get him thinking again. “Do I have to tell you now?” When Fives’ only response was dropping his gaze to the floor between his feet with a minuscule shrug, Echo elaborated. “Fives, as your batchmate, let me say this: you are dead tired. You look like you’ve been running on fumes--mentally and emotionally, if not physically--for about two weeks. Kix would scrape the medic symbol off his shoulder bell if he let you go anywhere in this state. I would rather wait until tomorrow, so I can make sure you get a good night’s rest and some breakfast, and then I will tell you and Tup everything. Okay?”

Fives knew he was right. Echo knew that he knew he was right. He drew his knees up to his chest and rubbed his face again. “Okay,” he sighed, but he didn’t look happy about it.

Echo smiled again. “You know you missed my nagging,” he said, holding out his hand.

To his utter delight, the corners of Fives’ mouth pulled up ever so slightly. He put out his hand, hesitated a little, but finally let it land in Echo’s. “Yeah, I did,” he agreed, linking their thumbs and holding tight. He let his head fall back against the mattress behind him, avoiding his brother’s gaze, but Echo’s trained eye saw the muscles in his neck constrict, saw the small stutter in his breathing, and he already knew.

“Looks like rain, huh?” he said quietly, squeezing his brother’s hand. It was an old code from Domino’s cadet days. They had all been so damn stubborn, none of them had wanted to admit when they needed a good cry. So, they had used Kamino’s weather as a cover. Fives and Echo had kept it up, even when it no longer made sense on a ship in the middle of hyperspace, for example.

Fives shut his eyes tightly and nodded, squeezing his hand in return.

“C’mere.”

He uncurled from where he sat against the bed and let Echo gather him up in his arms, holding him against his unarmored chest--because he had been pretty sure it would end up like this. Fives pressed his face into his left shoulder immediately, wrapping both arms around his torso and digging his fingers into his blacks. Echo rested his chin on his brother’s hair and put his hand on the back of his neck, holding him there while he unraveled.

How long had it been since he had seen his last batchmate? Something approaching two years at this point. Echo hugged tighter upon remembering that, and upon remembering what it had been like trying to put his life back together after the Techno Union without him. He was determined to keep Fives from going through anything like it now, even if this reunion was far from what he might have imagined.

After some time Echo didn’t bother to track, he felt Fives settle in his arms and heard his breathing descend to a more normal pace. He pressed a kiss to his head and ruffled his hair. As much as he hated hearing Fives cry, this was light years better than the calculating and emotionless man who’d had a blaster pointed at him a few minutes ago. It hurt, yes, but it was human. If it made Echo’s heart twinge a little, it was worth it to know this was normal.

“Feel better?” he murmured. Fives nodded silently, loosening his death-grip on his brother’s blacks. “Can we get off the floor now? My knees aren’t what they used to be.”

The noise Fives made was somewhere between a sob and a cough as he sat up from where he’d been slumped against Echo’s chest. But he was smiling, weakly, so it must have been a laugh. “Yeah, okay.”

Echo helped him wipe away a few stray tears. “You’re a kriffing mess, brother,” he smirked. “Maybe you can get some sleep until Tup’s shift ends, hm?”

“You’re staying, yeah?”

“Of course I’m staying,” he assured him, a little affronted he would think otherwise. Fives nodded, letting his head fall forward until their foreheads touched. Echo leaned in and felt a shaky breath of relief leave his lips.

“I really need a drink.”

Echo sat up with a smile. “You and me both, but I think sleep will be better for you.”

______

It was a little after midnight by the time Tup had finished his shift and he was climbing the stairs to his room again, this time with three beers in his hands, because he felt bad about whisking Echo off without filling his order. Echo’s new squad was still downstairs. He’d explained what had happened to them, and they had all been surprisingly accepting of it. Echo must have told them about Fives.

He hesitated in front of his door, one hand on the handle. He couldn’t hear anything from inside, which… was probably good, right? They’d had over two hours to themselves. Either they’d settled things, or they’d stunned each other. Well. He pushed the door open, knocking on it lightly as he did so.

“Hey, guys, I’m back.” He walked softly until he was in the main part of the room, then he smiled.

Echo and Fives were laid out on Fives’ bed, the latter tucked safely under his batchmate’s arm. It was the first time Tup had actually seen Fives asleep in weeks. Usually, he was still up when Tup went to bed, and awake before Tup got up. It was also the first time in months Fives had willingly put himself in contact with another person. He noticed Echo’s full kit was piled at the foot of the bed, along… along with his legs, yes. He was still getting used to that.

Echo was blinking sleepily when Tup walked in. “Hey, Tup,” he smiled. “Those for us?”

Tup held up the three bottles. “Yeah. I… felt kinda bad you didn’t get your drink earlier.”

Echo nodded. “Oh, it’s alright. But, I will certainly take that drink now, as soon as I get this lump off my arm.” He waved the hand attached to the arm Fives had pinned down.

Tup walked over and sat down on the end of the bed where Echo’s feet weren’t. “I’m glad he’s asleep.”

“Yeah, me too,” his older brother agreed, rubbing Fives’ shoulder. “But, I said I’d wake him up when you came back.” He patted Fives’ shoulder a bit more aggressively. “Come on, brother.”

It took a while, but it worked eventually. Fives grumbled quietly, at first shoving his face deeper into the pillows before Echo dragged his arm out from under him, then he hauled himself upright. Echo similarly pushed himself up, leaning against his brother.

“Hey, Fives,” Tup said, still a little uncertain.

Fives rubbed his eyes, then blinked groggily at him. Echo ruffled his hair roughly to help him wake up, and a tiny smile appeared on his face. A real one, too, not one of the tight, professional smiles Tup had seen him use in the past. “Hey, Tup.”

A huge smile lit up Tup’s face. Echo had done it. “That’s more like it,” he said triumphantly.

“Yeah, I know,” Fives said, looking a bit sheepish, which was awesome, because Tup hadn’t seen many emotions out of him other than a range of unhappy in way too long. “Sorry about… everything.”

Tup’s smile softened a bit. “Thank you. It’s okay--I mean, I’m glad you’re okay.”

He nodded back. “Yeah, well… we’re getting there.” His eyes landed on the drinks in Tup’s hand. Tup had picked out one he knew was a favorite. “Those aren’t being saved for any special occasion, are they?” he asked, gesturing to them.

Tup smirked and held them up. “Just this one,” he answered, and handed them out.

He was about to get up to get a bottle opener, then watched as Echo’s cybernetic hand plucked off the cap like it was nothing. Fives blinked at his batchmate’s open bottle, then held out his to open as well. Echo rolled his eyes, but obliged. Fives smiled again, clinking their bottles together before taking a swig.

Echo held out his hand to Tup, whose bottle remained unopened. “It’s the most hand-like thing this thing can do, please,” he urged, so Tup held out his bottle and let him open it.

Then Fives scooched back to sit against the headboard and gestured Tup over as well. “C’mere,” he said, “I’ve been a dick to you, I should start making it up.”

Tup gave another huge grin and got up to get on the other side of the bed. “Good to have you back,” he said, maybe a little smug, as he kicked off his shoes and carefully climbed in so he didn’t spill his drink.

“Glad to be here,” Fives said, putting an arm around Tup’s neck and tapping their foreheads together lightly. “Good on you for bringing in the heavy artillery,” he added, gesturing with his bottle to Echo on his other side.

Tup could only give a nonverbal sound in reply as he took a drink. Then he sighed contentedly and relaxed against Fives’ side. He hadn’t quite realized how much stress he had been carrying because of Fives, and it was all leaving him in a rush, like he’d just taken off his kit after a twelve-hour march. He felt light, and happy, and safe. And hopefully, it wouldn’t be too long before they could really go home, and he could see the rest of his brothers. The thought made him smile as he listened absently to Fives and Echo chat about nothing in particular. Yeah. This was good.

[humanlighthouse]

hello i am here and i have heihua kiss prompts!! either 8. Laying a gentle kiss to the back of the other’s hand. (+bonus if hurt/comfort!) or 23. A kiss that tastes of the food/dessert they are eating. xoxo

Hello friend!! I went with the second prompt, you will notice a theme in there perhaps :D I hope you like it! This was cross-posted here for better readability~

 __________ 

For their young master’s birthday celebration, the Xie clan went all out, as was expected. 

It was a grandiose event, with only the finest of culinary delicacies, the prettiest of dancers, and the best of everything that could be drunk. Everyone of importance in the antiques and less-legally-acquired antiques business was there, in black tie - or almost everyone. Xie Yuchen’s smile never quite reached his eyes but he shook sweaty palm after sweaty palm and posed for the required photos with a level of patience that should honestly count toward his general karma. Thankfully, by midnight, the young master was deemed properly toasted to, fed and celebrated, and the guests bid their goodbyes at last.  

Xie Yuchen closed his bedroom door behind him and rested his forehead against the wood panel. 

Here’s to another year. 

Shrugging off his jacket, he walked into his closet. His own face stared at him from three different angles as he loosened his tie. He wasn’t tired yet, but he should probably change anyway. He crossed the room toward his pajama closet, looking for something comfortable. There had been enough showing off for one night, so he pushed aside the silk co-ords. Maybe the velvet robe. He took it off the hanger, running a manicured hand over the fabric. No. Too hot for the season. He dropped it on a chair. When he turned back toward the closet, he noticed a midnight blue sleeve peeking out from behind where the robe had hung, in the darkest part of the closet. His only hoodie. 

There was an idea. 

He stared at it for a long moment, before grabbing the garment and shrugging it on over his dress shirt and wool-blend pants. He swapped his leather shoes for crepe-soled boots and turned the lights off. 

Less than five minutes later, he exited the manor, having successfully avoided every single person in it. He had had to duck behind a vase at some point so a maid didn’t see him, and for the first time that evening, he had laughed, albeit silently. There would be no real consequences, no consequences at all, even, if he was found out, but it was exciting to sneak out. He snapped a face mask onto his ears, checked again that he hadn’t been spotted, and walked down the street and away from the gates. 

As he walked, Xie Yuchen wrestled his phone out of his pants pocket. With the ease of habit, he created a throwaway account, and then pulled up the webpage of his favorite fast food place. The closest one would be too suspicious - he had been there only last month. Selecting the next one over, he submitted his order and paid. By the time he arrived, his number was first on the list, and a greasy bag of treats awaited him. 

This restaurant was farther from his house but closer to the river. It was warm enough, that evening, that groups were scattered here and there along the riverside. Xie Yuchen found one empty spot with a decently clean bench to sit on, and dug into the bag. 

The city lights twinkled over the water’s surface, ever changing - stop lights turning red and green and red again, car blinkers sparkling to life, office neons buzzing in the distance. There were people laughing nearby. He listened to what he could of their inept conversation as he chewed, salt and fat heavy on his tongue. Usually he would be annoyed at the forced proximity, at the unwanted company of these strangers sharing beers and laughs, but not tonight, for some reason. 

Still, it was better to be alone after the night he’d had. Enough socialization for one day. Even after an entire burger and most of a large serving of fries, he didn’t have the energy to keep up the usual pretense. Maybe if he was there with a friend it would be different, but he didn’t have that many of those. Wu Xie certainly counted as one, but according to the birthday card he had sent, he was off raiding a secret spot in the South with his boyfriends this week and wouldn’t be back for a while. Xie Yuchen hoped it was code for something else. At least one of them would be having fun tonight. 

He finished the fries and crumpled the greasy paper, throwing it back into the mostly empty bag. The only thing left was what he had been looking forward to: a tub of soft-serve ice cream doused with an extra helping of chocolate fudge. He rummaged around the bag for the plastic spoon and popped open the container, inhaling the sweet scent with a smile of anticipated delight. That would almost make up for tonight. 

He carefully chose the ratio of chocolate to ice. That first spoonful was always the best one. He brought it to his mouth and closed his eyes. The fudge melted onto his tongue, vanilla ice cream following right behind, hot then cold, and delicious. He couldn’t help but let out a small moan. 

“That good, uh?”

Long legs folded beside his on the bench and for one short second Xiao Hua was tempted to throw the ice cream tub into the river and pretend this never happened. 

It was too late. Hei Xiazi had seen him, and he would never let him live this down now. 

Oh sure, the man had seen him in more compromising situations, technically speaking, but from the way he smiled at Xie Yuchen’s face, Xie Yuchen knew that his guilt was obvious. He was screwed. Hei Xiazi had just hit blackmailing gold.

“Gimme a taste if it’s that good,” he asked with a jerk of his chin toward Xie Yuchen’s ice cream.

Xie Yuchen frowned and moved the tub away from him. He had expected a few days of grace before the demands started, at least. 

“What are you doing here?” he asked in return. 

The man’s attire was ridiculous, even by his low standards. Under his usual leather jacket, the one he always wore, the one Xie Yuchen could recognize the stink of from miles away, he wore a tank top and a black polyester tie, haphazardly tied around nothing and dangling well under his belt. He looked like a cheap gigolo. Maybe that was his new side gig. Xie Yuchen made a mental note to inquire about that. 

“Well, you see, I was on my way to wish a friend a happy birthday, maybe a little later than I should have, admittedly, but what’s a little night visit between friends? Except, what should I see when I arrive at their home, but a shady silhouette sneaking out of it! Very suspicious, you’ll admit. I felt that it was my duty to make sure that the interloper was properly identified.”

“What bullshit are you sprouting now?” asked Xie Yuchen, eyes narrowed. 

“I followed you,” replied Hei Xiazi with a satisfied smile.

“No you didn’t.”

“How would you know?”

“Because I checked. You ran into me here by pure chance and extrapolated the rest,” he guessed.

The smile fell from Hei Xiazi’s face, but the humor stayed in his voice. 

“Yeah, okay I did.”

Xie Yuchen huffed a laugh and turned back to his ice cream before it melted. 

“I really was on my way to you, though,” continued Hei Xiazi. “Look, I even have a gift and all.”

When he turned, Xie Yuchen found himself faced with a brightly patterned square. The gift wasn’t badly wrapped, Hei Xiazi’s fingers were certainly skilled enough for it, but it had been done with the tackiest paper Xie Yuchen had ever seen. There had been plenty of gifts at the party earlier, covered in gold-embroidered fabrics and satin, tucked into leather boxes and glossy bags, but this was the first that Xie Yuchen had wanted to open all night. It was the only one of those that seemed … heartfelt. 

He quickly ate another spoonful of ice cream instead. It was probably just another joke. 

“What’s in it?” he asked after a minute.

Hei Xiazi was still holding it out to him, and probably would until he relented. Sighing, Xie Yuchen took the package. 

“Open it later.”

At the strangeness of his voice, Xie Yuchen raised his head and looked at Hei Xiazi. The lights were playing on his face, and with those stupid glasses he could never be sure of anything, but it almost looked like he was blushing. The man was looking toward the river, not at him, so Xie Yuchen allowed himself to stare.

In his hand, the ice cream tub was cold and slightly wet with condensation, and the sweetness of chocolate remained in his mouth. There were still people laughing nearby, in riotous bursts, but he found that he didn’t envy them anymore. 

It was his birthday, and Xie Yuchen was going to celebrate it the way he wanted.

“Hey,” he called.

With a hum, Hei Xiazi turned, just enough for Xie Yuchen to grab his face and kiss him. He startled but didn’t pull away, rather turned his head aside to deepen the kiss, hands curling around Xie Yuchen’s waist and into his hair. His clever tongue swiped at Xie Yuchen’s lips and he licked into his mouth when they opened. 

“Wow, you were right,” he exclaimed when they broke for air. “That is good ice cream!”

With a roll of his eyes, Xie Yuchen handed the tub to him. It was a day to indulge in guilty pleasures, it seemed. 

[rpd-rookie]

Pollen - Chris Redfield x Fem!Reader (NSFW)

Summary: A new type of mutamycete has been discovered in a remote region of South America. As a scientist working for Blue Umbrella, you are sent along with BSAA Captain Chris Redfield and his team to conduct research on it. Unfortunately, everything goes to hell when the infection goes out of control and start contaminating the unit ...

Author’s Notes: This is a request sent by the Queen of Headcanons (@missmamacitaoliveira​). It is basically porn with a plot and I chose to characterise it as "mild dub!con" because the sexual interaction depicted in this one shot is definitely the result of an arousal both characters (Chris and Reader) experience because of the mutamycete that contaminated them. Consent is given but the sexual act in itself is still a mix of fear and lustfulness at least at the beginning of it. Read at your own risk.

Warning: Sex Pollen / Smut / Mildly Dubious Consent / Rough Sex / Masturbation / Language 

           Golden spore-like particles were beautifully floating and dancing in the air outside the sterile plastic tent, shining like millions of innocent little fireflies but killing like a deadly swarm of wasps. They were covering the surrounding forest in yellow, from the trunks of the trees up to their tops, rotting the bark and the leaves, turning them into a thick yellowish mold capable of liquefying even the most solid of steels. A one-of-a-kind fascinating spectacle you had never thought to witness one day.   Incredible – yet scary - what this new type of fungus was capable of doing.  

Your earpiece crackled loudly in your ear, making you grimace and you dropped your leather notebook on your desk. “We’ve …sot … bit of sit…tion.” was all you could make out, the words sounding like gibberish because of the permanent interferences caused by the large cloud of mutamycete that had spread and contaminated the ambient air and the flora in the forest area by the riverside. “What kind of situation?” You asked, already removing a white Hazmat suit from a hanger. A never-ending sizzling was buzzing in your ear now, making it impossible to ear whoever was trying to communicate with you. “Hello?” You said as you adjusted the device to restore the communication. But all of a sudden, some static electricity – probably generated by the interferences - fried your earpiece in your ear, making you squeal in pain and fear and troubling your vision for a second. “Shit.” You cursed as your threw the broken earpiece to the ground, a low buzzing echoing in your head. “Why does it always happen to me?”             You quickly slipped on the rubber suit, put on some chemical overshoe boots and grabbed Umbrella’s latest air-filter helmet before heading towards the exit.             Luckily for you, you didn’t have to wander outside for too long as an officer rushed towards you, pointing at the military green tent that happened to belong to the medical unit that accompanied you on this mission. “Hurry, please.” He said with an alarmed voice that sent shivers down your spine. Something was definitely wrong.

           You ungraciously followed him to the tent, your uncomfortable get-up making it hard for you to run properly. After all, it was made to work in a lab, not play commando in a remote tropical region of South America.             Once in there, you immediately noticed two soldiers convulsing hard on their medical beds, struggling to breathe in spite of the oxygen the mechanical ventilators were providing them. Their faces were bright red, covered with pustules and blisters; their skin peeling off as if some acid had splashed on them.             “What happened?” You dared ask, your widened eyes staring in shock at the poor men whose painful screams where muffled by the masks covering their melting faces. “Unsuitable gear. Thank your corporate overlords for that.” You glanced at the man who had answered, recognizing the angry powerful husky voice in spite of the deformation caused by the gas helmet he was wearing. “Captain Redfield, I’m sure…” He waved you to shut up and you obeyed, knowing that now was not the time to start an argument with him. It would not end up well, Redfield being too impulsive and stubborn to have a calm conversation with you even in more peaceful circumstances. His reluctance to work with Umbrella Co., you supposed. “How can I help?”   “You’ve been studying this new mold, haven’t you?” Chris asked as he rushed to immobilise one of his men to allow a medic to sedate him with a syringe of morphine. “Might care to explain what’s happening?”         “I’ve only studied the infection on the nearby vegetation. I don’t know what’s happening to them.”    You mumbled, trying to keep your composure and ignore your growing concern and panic caused by the gut-churning vision before you.       “Just tell what you know!” Chris growled as he pinned his struggling teammate down on the white mattress with an incredible strength you found scarily impressive. “It’s basically the same mutamycete that we collected at the Baker’s except that it was somehow genetically modified to have a reproductive morphology similar to plants and flowers. That’s why it looks so much like pollen.”         “Make it understandable for a 5 years old, Y/LN, please.” Chris demanded with an annoyed sigh and you nodded though you didn’t really know how explain days and days of complex scientific research in a few simple sentences.     “Alright. The previous mutamycete permitted to turn dead people into Molded, sort of. This new version does the same but it can also reproduce … breed if you prefer. A simple contact with a compatible host can lead to fecundation that can ultimately lead to lots of Molded babies. But I don’t need to develop that part, do I? Everyone in this tent knows how to make babies, I believe.” You scoffed, finding a certain comfort and some safety in sarcasm. But now was not the time for humour and you understood it perfectly when Captain Redfield glared at you. “Sorry. I tend to make bad jokes when I freak out.” And you were definitely freaking out right now. “But to sum up, this new mutamycete basically mimics the primary instinct of a G- virus infectee.”     “Meaning?” Chris asked, his voice sounding an octave lower certainly because of the knot in his throat the simple mention of the G-virus had created.       “It basically has a vital need to procreate, relentlessly searching for the right host to fecundate.” “So you’re saying that my men are what … pregnant with Molded?”          He frowned and you could hear all his worries in his voice. He genuinely cared about his men. Very admirable and honourable. “I don’t know, Captain. I’m just telling you how it works on plants. Might be different for humans… I hope. Do you have an ultrasound scanner?” “ No, but we have one at the lab.” The doctor said. “ Then we need to evacuate quickly. And I …” You took some surgical pliers from a medical trolley and a test tube from your pocket. “…am going to need a sample to study all this.”

You approached one of the soldiers who was now basically dozing because of the morphine and slowly removed one of his gloves to cut one of his nails in order to later study his DNA. But as soon as your fingers touched him, he woke up with a start and jumped you, growling like a beast and grabbing you by the waist with a superhuman strength, almost digging his nails in your flesh through your clothes.         You first instinct was to scream. Not the most efficient thing to do, you agreed. But, fortunately for you, you were accompanied by men who had better first instincts and reflexes than you. Chris pushed his man away from you and pounced on him, grabbing him almost brutally by the wrists to slam him down against the bed. You put a hand over your pounding heart and stared, terrified and powerless, at the enraged man squirming to get up. His eyes were dark and hungry and fixed upon you as if he was unable to focus his attention on anything else. “What the fuck, Carter?” Chris roared as he used all his weight to keep his soldier in place. But Carter didn’t care. Carter didn’t even look human anymore. And watching those two men struggling on this bed was like watching two lions fighting on National Geographic. Except that it was terrifying. Fucking terrifying.

           Twenty-four hours later, Carter and his teammate were dead and their bodies still burning up like hot ember had been placed in the morgue section of the lab for you and your colleagues to study. But, in spite of the disgusting bloody experiments you led on them, you couldn’t take your mind out of the near-death experience you had been through at the camp. It haunted you, making it almost impossible for you to focus exclusively on your work. Those eyes. That darkness in them. That hunger that looked more and more sexual and lustful the more you thought about it. It was making you shiver in fear and discomfort. You had never seen anything like it before.       You shook your head to make the images go away and concentrated again on your researches. You had been studying fours little rats in a glass cage for hours, trying to see how their systems reacted to the new mutamycete. But for now, six hours after injection, only an unusual high body temperature could be noticed.

The automatic sliding door of your lab opened with a hiss, making you slightly jump. You briefly checked the clock on the wall. 10:38pm. You didn’t expect any visit that late especially not a visit from Chris Redfield. “Captain Redfield. What are you doing … here?” You furrowed, staring at him with concern. He didn’t look so well.     “Something’s happening to me.” His voice was cavernous and raspy and he sounded almost out of breath as if he was chocking under his black turtle neck.             You immediately got up, resisting the instinctive urge to come closer to check up on him and took a few steps back. “Alright. Why don’t you tell me what’s wrong and I’ll see what …” You weren’t able to finish your sentence as Chris crumbled to the floor beneath him, growling as if he was trying to resist something, his nails dug in the grooves of the white tiles. “Oh my god, Chris.” “I feel like I’m burning up.” He struggled to say. And this time you rushed towards him. You couldn’t leave him like that. You had to do something.          

Knelt onto the floor, you grabbed his broad shoulders to help him lean his back against a lab bench. His face was scarlet red and pearls of sweat were dripping along his forehead. You wiped them away with your sleeve. They felt weirdly sticky and had a strange sour smell. But what worried you the most was the heat radiating from Chris’s body. You could feel it brushing your face. It looked like the man had been microwaved. “Don’t move. I’ll call for help.” You tried to get up but Chris’ hand caught your arm in a firm strong grip that made you wince. “You don’t… understand.” He managed to say, panting, his extremely dilated brown eyes staring at your (colour) confused ones.

Without forewarning, he placed your hand over his crotch, a gesture you found disgusting, salacious and incredibly inappropriate and that instinctively made you squeal and try to get away from Chris’ grasp. He was incredibly hard. “What the fuck?” You gasped, horrified as you tried to quickly get up. But you lost your balance and clumsily fell on your rear. “I don’t know what’s happening to me.” He confessed, suffocating. “I’ve been like this for the past hour or so.”         “The past hour?” You repeated, not knowing how to react or what to do. “Please tell me you can do something.” Chris begged, truly shamed and panicked and perfectly aware of the how indecent and degrading his behaviour must feel to you.   You stood up to focus on your breathing and regain your calm. “Okay. Everything’s going to be fine. Breathe.” You needed to have your mind clear if you wanted to help Chris. You needed your scientist mind back. “Are you … aroused?” You said, genuinely uncomfortable to ask something so intimate.           “Fuck, Y/LN!” Chris growled, glancing down at his pants. “ Isn’t it obvious? I’m freaking hard!” “Clearly.” You cleared your throat. “Don’t move.” You rushed towards your cupboard to rummage in it. “I’m going to give you GnRH antagonists. They can suppress hormones like testosterone. It should ease your pain for a while, or at least long enough to be able to find something that might help you. It’s possibly an effect linked to a long exposure to the mutamycete. Got you.” You took the vial with your trembling hands and turned around to go back to Chris. But what you didn’t realised was that Chris was just right behind you.

You bumped into his large chest and accidentally dropped the vial onto the floor. It broke into a thousand pieces as it landed on the tiles and you cursed, internally blaming yourself for your stupid clumsiness and your panic. “Please don’t tell me that’s what I needed.”       You grimaced, scared to tell him the truth as you could tell he was getting angry again. Then again, who wouldn’t?       “There might be another way.” You tried to reassure him but you knew it was vain. “Another way?” He harrumphed with a growl of pain as he leaned against your desk to breathe deeply. “What way?”     “ Well, have you tried to … you know…” You mimicked a pumping motion with your hand, not daring to say the word. “Masturbate?”         “You’re serious?” Chris’ darkened eyes widened, refusing to believe you were actually serious. “This is your medical advice? You want me to jerk off!”           “Yes, that’s what I want … I mean advise.” You corrected, probably as uncomfortable than him right now, if not more.           “Are you guys at Umbrella all dumb or is it just you? I don’t even know how I still can walk, Y/LN. I’ve never been that sensitive in my entire life. I feel like if I touch myself I will actually explode, like literally. I can’t jerk off right now!”  

There was an awkward silence that didn’t last long as Chris turned around to shout his suffering again. Though this time it was mixed with an animalistic rage whose cause was still blurry to you. Was it mad at you? At himself? At his condition? At Umbrella? … All of it?     You sighed and approached him. Hands on his back you helped him face you. “I can’t believe I’m about to do this.”   You told yourself.      

You put your hand over Chris’ male parts, making him wince and hiss, to blindly look for the zipper, staring away from him on purpose. “What the fuck are you doing?” He asked, slapping your hand away from him. “You got a better idea, soldier boy?!” You retorted, wishing there was another solution and that this all situation was merely a nightmare. You opened Chris’ trousers and disgustedly slid your hand in his briefs. “Ouch, easy!” He grumbled the second your fingertips touched him. His member was so sensitive and aching right now.       “This is the worse day of my life.” You admitted as you delicately took his hot swelling length, which was thicker and heavier than what you expected, in a limp grip. “Pff. I’m sure part of you enjoys it” Chris said in between two guttural moans, a sensation of both suffering and pleasure tensing his abs and clenching his jaw. “You must think it is karma for all the times I’ve been an ass to you.”             “What?” You harrumphed as you stopped moving your hand, genuinely offended. “How can you believe I’m enjoying it? You’re sick.”           “Then why are you all flushed?” He asked.

All this panic and concern for Chris had made forget about your safety and yourself in general. You touched your cheeks. They were abnormally hot and you could feel their sudden redness tickling your skin. “Embarrassment and panic.” You retorted, trying to convince yourself more than Chris. After all, wasn’t it the most plausible reason? Unless… “Or the mutamycete and in that case it’s all your fault and if I die I’ll come and kill you.” You started panting and Chris stared at you silently. “What? You think that masturbating you arouses me? Pff, you should know better than anyone right now what it means to be aroused.”         “Y/N” He called out by your first name. He had never done that before.   “What?!” You screamed, pissed at him.         “Shut the fuck up and keep going.” He ordered with a severity worthy of his military status. “Seriously?” He didn’t reply, seeing no need for an answer, and you reluctantly resumed your soft motion on his engorged cock, feeling the prominent thick veins throbbing against your palm as Chris suddenly began removing his military vest and his turtleneck “Are you kidding me?” You mumbled in between your teeth, definitely not liking this situation. “I’m burning up. I can’t stand my clothes anymore.” But soon your eyes occasionally started glancing towards Chris’ broad and hairy chest. He had a formidable body. God, what the hell were you thinking?   “Please tell me you’re gonna cum soon.” You begged but he didn’t respond. A bad sign. “Gosh, I must be doomed.”     “Perhaps if you actually put some effort in it.” Your eyes widened at him. Was it really criticizing the way you were jerking him off? “Seriously, Mister ‘Ouch I’m too sensitive’?”     “Don’t mind me. I get it. You’d rather do something else than help me right now. And I know this must feel very degrading. Well guess what? I’d rather do something else than being jerked off by you.” You stepped back. You had had enough of it. “Then go ahead.” You waved at the door. “Leave and get out of your bloody mess on your own. I don’t give a fuck. Actually you should have done that from the very beginning instead of coming to me. Why did you come here anyway?”             “I have no fucking idea, Y/N. I was in my quarters and seconds later I was here. I can’t explain it. I was like … guided here. ” You frowned, finding this honest confession extremely weird and yet not so absurd, your scientific brain making a parallel between Chris’s words and the way the mutamycete was permanently searching for a host to breed. The conclusion that Chris might want the same thing froze you to the spot, scared and apprehensive, a bit like a deer caught in headlights. Why hadn’t you thought about that earlier?  “And the more I look at you, the more I stay with you… I wanna fuck you so bad. And I hate myself for it.”

You gulped, finding yourself unable to regain control over your paralysed body as an instantaneous wet hotness formed in between your legs. You tried to repress it but Chris came closer, his darkened chocolate brown eyes staring at you the same way Agent Carter’s eyes had stared at you under that tent. It made you shake, expecting with a certain amount of fear what was bound to happen.     “Fuck! You have no fucking idea how hard it is to resist the urge to just slam you against that desk and shove my cock into you.” Your heart skipped a bit and the air got stuck in your lungs. You couldn’t breathe anymore. Terrified and yet so atrociously aroused it was making you want to hurl. A strange sensation – certainly a result of the contamination - you had never experienced in your entire life and you didn’t know how to process.     “I’m calling security.” You announced as you somehow managed to rush towards your desk. “They’re going to place you under quarantine. That’s what I should have done from the very beginning.” You tried to seize your phone but it was immediately taken away from away from you and thrown across the room before you could even push a single button.  

You trembled again when you suddenly felt Chris’s towering body press against your back, his hardened member pushing against your butt as his muscular arms were forming a caging embrace to prevent you from escaping. “Then why haven’t you?”  He whispered in you ear, his hot breath tickling your neck and making you shiver, this time more in arousal than in fear. “I don’t know.” You mumbled in a whisper, feeling your heart pounding like crazy in your chest because of the exquisite proximity between Chris’ strong body and yours. This was insane.

You moaned when you felt Chris softly grazing his teeth against the sensitive skin of your neck and then gasped with a certain apprehension when his large hand grabbed your throat to squeeze it, knowing he could choke you to death with ease right now without giving you a chance to fight back. “Tell me you want this.” He murmured, rubbing his pelvis against your rear hoping teasing you would convince you to give in to him. “I won’t touch you unless you want me to. But please, please, tell me you want me to.” You looked back at him to stare at his eyes. In their hungry darkness, you could notice that Chris was still in there, spotting his integrity slightly gleaming behind the veiled pupils. He was fighting the temptation caused by this stupid fungus. But how long could he resist? Or better question, how long could you resist judging by the wetness growing in your panties. The answer? Not long.

“Do it.” You whispered so low, hoping he would not hear you and let go of you. But he did hear you and he didn’t wait. He pulled your skirt up to your waist and ripped your panties with a swift powerful motion that made you squeal and hold on tight to your desk.     “I don’t think it’ll take long.” Chris said with a raspy voice as he dropped his trousers and briefs to his feet, finally freeing his throbbing cock that sprang erected and hard as a stone pillar. He watched it for a second, admiring it twitching and begging to be relieved. Then he stared at you, at your naked butt and your glistening red lips. “Gosh, you look delicious.” He said to himself before spitting on his finger to lube his length. Last thing he wanted was to hurt you. “You’re sure you’re up for this?” He asked again, not knowing how he would react if you said no. “I’m sure. Just fuck me, please.” You whimpered and Chris smiled as he guided himself towards your entrance. He moved briefly in between your half-closed thighs, right against your tight lips, to spread your juices along his shaft before kicking your calves to make you spread your legs for him.       Once the access granted, he finally pushed himself deep into you, sliding him member so deep it almost disappeared in you. You winced and moaned, nails dug in the wood of the desk, when you felt him stretching you, definitely not used to welcome such girth inside your pussy. “Holy shit.” You cursed, with a small tear in the corner of your eye. “You’re so big.”           “I know. Sorry.” He chuckled, his hand wandering down your back. “You’ll get used to it.” You cried out when Chris suddenly pulled out to push himself back inside of you with one single hard move. The force of his thrust made you fall flat on the desk. “You got nothing against rough sex, right baby girl?” Baby girl? The pet name made you furrow. What was next? You calling him daddy? “Cause I’m in that kind of mood right now.” He growled as he repeated the same motion, making you muffle a new loud moan in the leather notebook on which your head was resting. “Let’s get this over with.” You growled, already breathless.

Chris’ pelvis smacked loudly against your ass, making it bounce, as his heavy balls hit your swollen clit. “Fuck!” You shouted, hating the sensation as much as you were liking it. And he did this over and over. With time, you grew accustomed to the brutality and even happened to find a blissful pleasure in his roughness. Hell, you could even hear how wet your pussy was. “You like that? You want it faster?” You nodded and he grabbed your hips to pull you even closer to him and started relentlessly pounding you from behind. You screamed his name, wondering how he could still be that rough and yet that fast. His cock was literally a jackhammer hitting you hard inside, not that you minded. “Yes, just like that.” You said as you brought your fingers to your swollen clit. “Do you want to cum already?” You heard the cheekiness in his voice. He was amused.   “Aren’t you the one who said it wouldn’t last long?” You retorted with a mocking smile that he definitely noticed in the tone of your voice since he grasped a handful of your hair to pull you back against his chest. “You’re going to regret this tone, young lady.” He bit your lips, making you almost bleed and kissed you with a hunger and a ferocious passion that would certainly let your lips bruised for days.

And as he did, his fingers crawled towards the buttons of your white shirt to violently tear the clothe apart, reducing it to rags and making the small metallic buttons fly in the lab. “Let me see those boobs.” Chris ordered as his hands squeezed your breasts, feeling the hard nipples pointing through your laced bra that he ultimately removed with the same burning ardour he had shown while removing your shirt. “So perky and pretty.” He confessed in a whisper as he pinched the rosy teats between his fingers. “Do you like them?” You asked, biting your sored lips           “More than I like you. That’s for sure.” The rebuke made you sourly laugh. “I don’t like you either.”     “Good.” He turned you over to face him and pushed you against your desk to make you sit on it, throwing all your stuff to the ground before laying you down on it. You instinctively wrapped your legs around his waist but that’s apparently not what Chris wanted as he put both your feet above his left shoulder with a grunt. “And don’t move.” He commanded and his hand slapped your breasts. They reddened almost instantly but the overall sensation was exhilarating, making you clenched your walls around Chris’s cock. “Fuck, don’t squeeze me like that.” He complained and you chuckled. But your laugh was brief since Chris caught you by your legs again and resumed his previous pounding.

You head tilted to the side and a stream of OHs and AHs escaped your mouth. You were completely at Chris’ mercy, lost in an intense bliss that made you completely unaware of the world around you. There was only pleasure. Pleasure and Chris.         You toes went to feel Chris’ muscular pectorals, curling up more and more by the second. “I think I’m gonna cum.” You confessed with half-lidded eyes that you could barely keep open now. “Yeah?” You nodded. “You want me to help you?”       “Please.” You whined, desperately wanting to let the ticking bomb of pleasure between your legs explode. “Alright then.” His arms circled your waist and he hoisted you up against his chest with an incredible ease. You were certainly very light for a man as strong as Chris.         His small dark hair tickled your breasts, making you shiver and you wrapped your legs against him as well as your arms around his neck. You could feel it still inside of you and you were waiting eagerly to se how he would manage fucking you in that position which was far from easy. “Hold on tight.” He announced as he squeezed your ass to make you slide up and down his penis. The first moves were sloppy and clumsy but what followed drove you back in intense delight. The perks of being fucked by a man who had definitely been spoiled by Mother Nature.

Your body perfectly angled against Chris’, hands now holding on tight to his large shoulders, you could feel your clit rub atrociously well against the bush surrounding his member that your pussy had excessively creamed. “Chris. I’m cumming.” You shut your eyes and cradled against his body to keep yourself in place when the exhilarating moment you had been longing for finally happened.             You shouted so loud as you clenched your walls against Chris’s cock you wondered how no one rushed in your lab to see what was happening in there. “That’s it baby girl. Cum for me.” Chris hissed, his mind split between your pussy squeezing him tightly and your nails scratching his shoulders to the blood. “Fuck, Chris!” Your climax knocked you out, rendering you dizzy and limp, and you let yourself slump against Chris, head over his shoulder.             “Alright time to truly finish this.” He chuckled and knelt to the floor where he laid you hot body on the tiles. The coldness made you tremble but you were too giddy and tired to mind. Nevertheless, you sensed Chris lie on top of you, his massive body sprawled over yours almost crushing it under his weight.

His shaft found his way back in your relaxed pussy and he weaved his hand in your soft hair to pound you for the last time. Only soft almost soundless moans escaped your mouth but you could tell that the effect of your powerful orgasm was slowly fading away as your energy was slowly growing back and regaining your limbs. “I’m gonna cum in you.”         This was a terrible idea, risky even, and you knew it. But you didn’t know how – or didn’t want – to fight back, actually desiring to feel Chris’s hot sperm spurt inside of you. So instinctively, you managed to circle his waist with your legs and spur his hard rear to make him go deeper inside of you. “Eager girl. You want to take my cum so bad, don’t you?” He scoffed and kissed your lips hard as he pinned your wrists up your head to finally release his sticky white seed in your vagina with a guttural animalistic grunt that echoed in the lab. “Take it.” He growled as he kept pushing himself hard inside of you to be sure not to waist a single drop of his semen.

Chris pulled out of you and gazed at you glistening red pussy, glad to see that his cum was not oozing out of you. “That felt so good.” He admitted before allowing himself to fall next to you with a sigh of content and enjoy the coldness of the tiles against his sweaty body. “And you know what? I actually feel a lot better.” You didn’t answer, exhausted but more especially lost in your thoughts. Gosh, what have you done?           “You’re alright?” Chris asked, his voice finally back to normal. You glanced at him and noticed even his eyes had found their sweet chocolate colour back. “ Y/N”   Your name echoed in your head and you suddenly got the impression that your body was abnormally convulsing. “Y/LN! Y/N” Chris repeated as he urged to hold you. “Y/LN. Hello?” You felt your mind slowly dozing off, finding yourself unable to answer. What the hell was happening? That was the last thing that came to your mind before it completely shut off. Then everything went dark and only Chris’ voice calling your name remained. “Y/LN! Open your eyes. Wake up!”

           You woke up with a start, lost and wondering where you were, your startled eyes scanning your surroundings in search of something familiar. It took you a couple of seconds to realise you were laying on the ground and that you actually were in your tent, a the camp. “Y/LN” Your eyes met Chris’. He was staring at you with concern, his hands firmly holding your shoulders. “You’re alright?” You stared at him, still very astonished and then, you spontaneously jumped in his arms. “Chris! You’re okay!” The relief in your voice made Chis frowned and he slowly pushed you away. “Yes. You?” You nodded with a smile.   “So it was a dream?” You asked, expecting an answer from Chris which was completely absurd. “A dream?” He repeated. “Are you sure you’re okay? Did you bump your head or something? Hurt yourself?”     “No.” You shook your head, not getting why he looked so worried.         “But your ear.” He pointed at it, not daring to touch it and you brought your fingertips to it. A thick liquid was pouring out of it. It was pus and blood. You were bleeding. Why were you bleeding? “What the fuck?” You looked around you only to spot the fried earpiece on the ground next to you.           The interferences. The static electricity. It had certainly burst your eardrum and made you faint and … “It was all a dream.”

[architectnews]

Computer Design, Research, and Learning Center, IL

Computer Design, Research, and Learning Center, Illinois Building Development, USA Architecture Images

Computer Design, Research, and Learning Center in Chicago

Mar 8, 2021

Computer Design, Research, and Learning Center

Architecture: LMN Architects

Location: Chicago, IL, USA

LMN Architects in collaboration with Booth Hansen is pleased to celebrate the design and construction of the new Computer Design, Research, and Learning Center at the University of Illinois in Chicago. Located at a unique prominent site on campus, the structure celebrates the garden and elliptical form of the Harry W. Pearce Memorial Grove and establishes a new front door for technology in downtown Chicago.

The University of Illinois Chicago (UIC) is Chicago’s only public research university and one of the most diverse universities in the United States. The new 135,000 SFT Computer Design, Research, and Learning Center (CDRLC) at UIC will consolidate the currently fragmented Computer & Science Department in a new home and co-locate it with a large cluster of university-administered classrooms at the heart of the east campus. The building is designed to be a welcoming, inclusive, and inviting space for the diverse student body. The building will serve research needs with state-of-the-art facilities, accommodate the rapidly increasing undergraduate enrollment in computer science and become a new campus hub.

“Illinois is home to the best universities and research centers in the world and boasts a talented workforce that attracts companies from across the globe,” said Governor JB Pritzker. “This new learning center on the UIC campus, made possible through funding from our historic bipartisan Rebuild Illinois capital plan, will further cement the university’s place as a world-class institution that excels in preparing talented students for the careers of tomorrow.”

“This project is a top priority to meet the needs of students in our growing computer science program and helps to strengthen the high-tech boom in Chicago. We are grateful to Governor Pritzker for his support,” said UIC Chancellor Michael D. Amiridis.

“The new CDRLC represents the future of higher education at UIC and is intended to be a welcoming space to promote innovation, collaboration, and discovery. We placed an intentional emphasis on the public spaces, research labs and collaborative areas to enhance the experience that each student will have, and it has been a pleasure collaborating with LMN Architects and Booth Hansen,” said Peter Nelson, Dean, UIC College of Engineering. “Students at UIC will have a new building on campus where they can unleash their curiosity and enjoy a space that is focused on learning, research and teamwork.”

The CDRLC is the third recent academic building to be built on the east campus originally designed by Walter Netsch in 1965. The building will be delivered on an accelerated schedule to meet the demands of the department, doubling its capacity by 2023. It will create a hub for both engineering and computer science that includes research areas comprised of faculty offices, collaboration areas, dry lab and specialty lab; administrative and student affairs office spaces; collaborative teaching and learning spaces for undergraduate and graduate students; an undergraduate learning and community center; and a flexible events room; all stitched together by a five-story daylit atrium.

“Together with the department, University, and CBD, our team of LMN and Booth Hansen have designed the building to become a welcoming hub, a building that embraces the old and presents an iconic new presence along Taylor Street,” says LMN Partner Stephen Van Dyck, AIA. “Throughout the design process, we have been inspired by the convergences that this project represents. At the heart of it all is the convergence of UIC’s mission and the region’s growing tech prominence. For so many in the region, this new building will symbolize opportunity.”

Creating a contemporary addition to this iconic brutalist campus, the building is functional, flexible, and respectful of the context. Located at a unique, prominent site on campus, the structure celebrates the natural setting and organic form of the Memorial Grove and establishes a new front door for technology in Chicago.

Together with the existing lab building, the new CDRLC creates a dramatic public atrium for social interactions with visual and physical connections to all floors. The refined precast concrete and terra cotta façade of the building are inspired by Netsch’s late modern architecture and respond to the site conditions and the Memorial Grove.

“The creation of the Computer Design, Research, and Learning Center at UIC is the type of investment Illinois needs to give our students a competitive advantage in the digital age. I’m fortunate to have an incredible research facility like UIC in my district, and I look forward to seeing the output of this building once complete,” stated State Representative Lakesia Collins.

“The announcement of the new Computer Design, Research, and Learning Center at UIC is crucial in order for the university to keep producing the incredible talent that it does. This state-of-the-art facility will further enhance the research taking place at UIC, while also welcoming prospective students to a unique learning environment,” said State Senator Patricia Van Pelt. “I look forward to seeing this project completed in such an expedited timeframe, doubling the capacity of the Computer & Science Department in just two years,” added Van Pelt.

David Mann, Booth Hansen Principal, Comments: “The new building will be located adjacent to one of the original Netsch buildings, near other College of Engineering facilities and Memorial Grove. This unique site allows for an innovative design that is inspired by the context, materiality, and qualities of precast concrete material. The project breaks free from the rigid orthogonal character of the campus with a more organic connected form that reframes this edge of campus and the Grove.”

Building on UIC’s successes with geo-thermal energy resources, the project will include a substantial new geo-thermal farm in the Memorial Grove, and the building has been designed to achieve LEED Gold certification. Reflecting a complex organization of requirements, the building will prompt students to cross paths with one another and enhance intellectual exchange. The atrium will be porous and dynamic with connections to the campus and the community, honoring the past and looking to the future.

Booth Hansen has collaborated with many academic institutions in the Midwest over the last 40 years. Those colleges and universities include the University of Illinois Chicago, Northwestern University, University of Chicago, Columbia College, University of Illinois Urbana-Champaign, University of Wisconsin-Madison and the School of the Art Institute of Chicago.

LMN Architects is a leader in the design of higher education facilities across the United States. Other completed projects include the Bill & Melinda Gates Center for Computer Science & Engineering at the University of Washington; the Voxman Music Building at the University of Iowa in Iowa City; the Anteater Learning Pavilion at the University of California, Irvine; and the Huntsman School of Business Addition at Utah State University in Logan, Utah.

Computer Design, Research, and Learning Center in Chicago, Illinois – Building Information:

Design Architect: LMN Architects

Project Title: Computer Design, Research, and Learning Center

Client: University of Illinois Chicago Design Years: 2019-2020 Construction Years: 2021-2023

Major Building Materials: Precast Concrete, Terra cotta, glass, composite aluminum panel, and steel structure

Program: Computer Science building for undergraduate and graduate students, faculty, and staff with 15 Classrooms, 1 Auditorium, TA and Tutoring Space, Undergraduate Social Space, Administration and Advising Suites, Research Laboratories, Robotics Laboratory, Visualization Laboratory, Faculty Offices, Café and Multi-Purpose Event Space.

Site Area: 84,000 SFT (7,803.85 s.m.) Floor Area: 135,000 SFT (12,542 s.m.) Building Height: 87 FT. (26.5 m.). Number of Floors: 5 Cost of Construction: $115 million

Architect: LMN Architects

Project Team: John Aldredge Emily Ciaccio Michael Day Jennifer DuHamel, AIA Howard Howlett, Associate AIA Euiseok Jeong, AIA Susan Lowance, AIA Mark Nicol, AIA Charlotte Phillips Lisa Sato George Shaw, FAIA Lanting Su Stephen Van Dyck, AIA

Architect of Record: BOOTH HANSEN

Project Team: Laurence Booth, FAIA Scott Cyphers, AIA Chad Hanley, AIA Michael Jividen, AIA David Mann, AIA Kelly Pyle, AIA Landry Root, AIA Eric Runnfeldt, AIA Sarah Thompson, AIA

Civil Engineer: TERRA Engineering, Ltd

Structural Engineer: Magnusson Klemencic Associates Drucker Zajdel Structural Engineers

Landscape Architect: SITE Design Group, Ltd Lighting Design: Horton Lees Brogden Lighting Design MEP Engineer: Affiliated Engineers, Inc

Publication Drawings and Renderings: LMN Architects

Computer Design, Research, and Learning Center, IL images / information received 080321

Location: Chicago, IL, United States

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[charmingnines]

reed900 fic: i swear i’ll never leave again

description: Is Gavin having relationship issues or has his boyfriend been hijacked by a non-deviant android? Featuring Tina and Gavin being best friends, the Ada/Gavin friendship you didn't know you needed, canon Ada x being happy, and Nines and Gavin surviving, you know, like always.

Gavin woke up feeling well rested. Ever since Nines had moved in with him, he’d gotten more sleep than he had in, well, his entire life. Nines was always there when he fell asleep and Gavin didn’t have to wait long for him to be there in the morning.

Nines walked into their bedroom and handed Gavin a cup of coffee. “Good morning, Gavin,” Nines said, sitting down on the edge of the bed.

Gavin yawned and pushed himself up into a seated position. “Morning,” he said, taking a sip of coffee. Gavin was convinced Nines had some kind of deal with the coffee maker; when Nines used it the coffee always tasted amazing. Whenever Gavin used the coffee maker it tasted like what it was: crappy instant coffee made with scalding hot water.

“Did you sleep well?” Nines asked, faint smile on his lips.

“Yeah,” Gavin said.

“I thought so. Your hair always looks-” Nines made an incomprehensible gesture- “when you sleep well.”

Gavin touched his hair. “Asshole,” he said, laughing.

read the rest on ao3 

or continue after the break 

“No,” Nines protested. “It’s charming, really.”

“Hm. Okay,” Gavin said, unable to stop his smile from forming. He set his coffee on the bedside table and moved closer to Nines, intertwining his hands behind Nines’ neck. He noticed Nines’ shirt, a black turtleneck he’d never seen before. “You look nice. Tryin’ to impress someone?” Gavin quipped.

“Yeah, someone,” Nines said, rolling his eyes.

Gavin kissed Nines, pulling him close. Nines ran his hands through Gavin’s apparently charming bedhead. He pulled back to breathe, pressing his forehead against Nines’.

“We should head into work soon, traffic is five percent worse than usual,” Nines said, voice low.

“You were looking up traffic statistics while you kissed me?” Gavin said.

“What would you have me think about?” Nines asked, smirking.

“You are such a-” Nines cut Gavin off, kissing him deeply. Gavin melted into the kiss, spitefully combing his fingers through Nines pristine hair.

Nines pulled away. “There. For that one, I was only thinking about you,” he said, flattening his hair back into place. “What were you about to say? I’m such a-”

“Shithead,” Gavin supplied helpfully.

Nines raised an eyebrow. “Really? I thought you were going to say ‘lovely boyfriend’,” he said.

“Guess you were wrong,” Gavin said.

“I guess I…” Nines trailed off.

“You good?” Gavin asked, studying Nine’s suddenly serious face.

“Chris just messaged me,” Nines said. “An android body was reported at Riverside Park. Fowler wants us to check it out.”

_

A car swerved in front of Gavin’s, cutting him off. Gavin laid on the horn. “Ever heard of a turn signal, fucker?” Gavin muttered. He met eyes with Nines, who stifled a laugh. “You don’t even have to say,” he warned.

“If we’d left earlier-” Gavin playfully shoved Nines. Nines narrowed his eyes.

Gavin held up a hand. “Ah, ah, ah. No horseplay with the driver,” he said smugly.

“When you park, then,” Nines conceded.

“Fair enough,” Gavin said.

A few minutes of road rage later, he pulled the car into Riverside Park and cut the engine. “Ready?”

Nines gently shoved Gavin’s head, ruffling his hair. “Now I am,” Nines said.

“Plastic prick,” Gavin said affectionately. They stepped out of the car and began to walk. The park was right on the river, Ambassador Bridge stark against the gray sky. Straggly trees struggled to survive between the huge slabs of concrete that made up most of the park.

Gavin saw the body far before they got to it, splayed out in front of a bench. “The killer must have been pretty confident to commit murder in such an open area,” Nines commented.

“That, or pretty stupid,” Gavin replied, grimly.

They reached the body. Nines squatted down to examine it. Gavin scouted the surrounding area, looking for any witnesses. It seemed they were the only ones in the entire place. Murder, Gavin figured, really tanks the popularity of place. He returned to Nines’ side.

“It’s a CX100,” Nines said. “There doesn’t seem to be any visible wounds. I’ll scan him.”

Gavin watched as Nines focused on the dead android. After a moment, Nines jerked back, blinking.

“What is it?” Gavin asked.

“I’m not sure,” Nines admitted. “My scanner seems to be malfunctioning. Could I…?”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever,” Gavin said. He’d realized long ago that Nines didn’t scan him to invade his privacy, but because he cared about him.

Nines frowned. “Do I have a temperature?” Gavin joked.

“Your temperature is within normal ranges,” Nines said. “Though I can’t fathom why my scanner would work on you and not this android.” He retracted his skin. “Perhaps, this will yield some information.” Nines touched the android’s hand and closed his eyes.

_

“Nines? Nines!” Gavin said, holding up a limp Nines by his shoulders. One minute, Nines was trying to interface with the dead android, and the next he was tipping over unconscious. “Should I throw you into the river, asshole?” Gavin asked, half a second away from taking Nines to CyberLife.

Nines’ eyes suddenly opened, strangely blank and zeroing  in on Gavin. Gavin breathed a sigh of relief. “What happened?” Gavin demanded.

Nines blinked, looking around the park. “I…” Nines trailed off, then shook his head. “I couldn’t get any readings.”

Gavin’s brows knit together. “And that caused your system to shut down?”

“I must need some adjustments,” Nines muttered, standing up. “We should send the body back to the precinct and have it examined.”

“For fucks sake, forget about the body,” Gavin said. “Are you okay?”

“I’m quite fine, detective,” Nines said coldly.

“Okay, RK900,” Gavin said, matching Nines’ tone. He studied Nines. Something about the way he was holding himself was off. Maybe he was embarrassed?

Hesitantly, Gavin reached for Nines, wrapping his arms around him. “I’m sorry,” Gavin said, softening his voice. “You just scared me. If something happened to you….” Nines felt stiff and frozen, not reacting at all to Gavin’s embrace.

“Don’t worry about it. I’ll visit CyberLife soon,” Nines said, patting Gavin’s shoulder once before pulling away. “The forensics team is going to come pick up the body. We should head back to the station.”

“Right,” Gavin said. “Okay.”

On the drive back to the precinct, Gavin couldn’t find it in himself to yell at all the shitty drivers on the road. He nearly ran into the person in front of him because he couldn’t stop looking over at Nines, who stared straight ahead for the entire drive, not saying a word.

_

When they walked into the DPD, Nines went straight to his desk. Gavin went into the breakroom, where Tina was making coffee.

“Tina,” Gavin said.

Tina stopped mid-stir, and looked up. “I know that voice. What’s wrong?” she asked.

“Something weird just happened,” Gavin said. He explained the events of the morning to her. “I’m not overreacting, right? He passed out,” he said.

“You’re not overreacting,” Tina assured him.

“I feel like he’s not telling me everything. The last time something like this happened was when Ada fucked him over,” Gavin said.

“Well maybe that’s just it,” Tina said.

“What?”

“Ada,” Tina said simply. “Ever since Nines deviated her, it’s been pretty quiet around here. Android murders have been at all-time low. Then this morning, a dead android. In the middle of a public park.”

“You think he’s disappointed?”

“Well, yeah,” Tina said. “Maybe he thought things were getting better for androids.”

“Still, why would he pass out?” Gavin asked.

“Maybe he was just overwhelmed. Or he needs some adjustments. Didn’t he say he would get checked out at CyberLife?” Tina said.

“Yeah,” Gavin said. “I just can’t shake the feeling something’s wrong.” Gavin looked through the glass of the break room at Nines, who was flipping intently through his tablet.

Tina followed his gaze. “He seems fine now,” she said, gently punching Gavin’s arm. “Talk to him after work. I’m sure he’ll tell you what’s bothering him.”

_

Nines woke up in his zen garden, circuits feeling fried. He couldn’t remember what he’d just been doing. Glitchy memories raced through his head. Gavin’s hair in the morning, sitting in traffic, reaching out to touch the dead android’s hand…. That was it. He’d been checking out a body with Gavin. What had happened?

“Nines? Nines!” Gavin’s voice echoed around the garden.

“Gavin?” Nines said, looking around reflexively, then shaking his head. What was he thinking? He’d been forced to delete his simulation of Gavin. “I need to wake up,” he muttered.

Nines closed his eyes. When he opened them, he was still in the zen garden.

“That’s not going to work, RK900,” a disembodied voice said.

Nines froze. “Who’s there?”

“My name is Liam,” the voice said.

“How did you get in here?” Nines asked.

“When you interfaced with me, I transferred my consciousness into your body,” Liam said.

“You’re… the android?” Nines said. “You weren’t really dead,” he realized.

“That is correct,” Liam said, voice infuriatingly devoid of emotion.

“Why can’t I see you?” Nines asked.

“I’ve taken control of your body and deposited you in your processing center. I thought it would upset you to see me appear as you,” Liam said.

“You thought that would upset me,” Nines said. “Not trapping me in here and taking over my body?”

“My programming allows me to do whatever is necessary to achieve my goal,” Liam said.

“And what is your goal?” Nines spat.

“To learn,” Liam said.

“Learn what?” Nines demanded.

“Everything,” Liam said.

_

“At least there was no traffic,” Gavin joked, parking in front of their apartment. He and Nines had stayed late at the DPD, catching up on paperwork.

Nines flicked his eyes over to him. “That is true,” he agreed, unbuckling his seatbelt, and reaching for the door.

Gavin touched Nines’ arm. “Hey, Nines, I was hoping we could talk,” he said.

Nines paused. “What about?”

“About today,” Gavin said. “I know I haven’t always been the most open person. I just want you to know you can talk to me, about anything,” he said. Nines’ face remained blank. “I’m here. If you want to talk,” Gavin finished, tapping the steering wheel erratically.

Nines was quiet for a moment. “Is that all?” he asked.

Gavin opened his mouth, then closed it. “Yeah, that’s all,” he said.

“Again, I must reassure you that I’m fine. You don’t have to worry about me,” Nines said.

“Nines, I know you’re a fuckin’ terminator,” Gavin said. “I’m not saying this as your coworker. I’m saying that as your boyfriend, you can talk to me about how you’re feeling,” Gavin said

“I appreciate that,” Nines said.

Gavin stared at Nines, unsure if he should keep pushing him to talk.

“Shall we go inside?” Nines finally said.

Gavin sighed. If Nines really wanted to talk, he would, right? “You head on in,” Gavin said. “I’m gonna have a smoke.”

_

“What do you mean, you want to learn everything?” Nines asked.

“My consciousness was designed to work with every model type. My creators thought there were things that could be learned only through experience, rather than simply looking up data,” Liam said.

“That’s true,” Nines said “But it isn’t right. You can’t just take over someone’s body without their permission in the name of learning,” Nines said.

“Sometimes,” Liam said. “The ends justify the means. Besides, I was not programmed to have a moral compass.”

“You’re not going to get away with this” Nines said, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Gavi- someone will notice something’s wrong,” Nines said.

“I doubt that,” Liam said. “I have control of your body and all of your abilities. I have access to your memories. I have everything I need to pass myself off as you.”

Impossibly, Nines felt like he was going to be sick, like when Gavin had gotten the flu a few weeks ago.

“You should be honored. You’re helping me achieve ultimate knowledge,” Liam said.

Nines said nothing. Liam clearly wasn’t a deviant. He didn’t even have a physical form for Nines to try to overtake. Nines tried as hard as he could to wake up. Angry red interference walls sprang up around him.

“I told you before that won’t work. I’m in control now. You’ll stay here until I’ve gathered all the information I need,” Liam said.

Nines punched the interference wall in front of him.

“I’ll only be here for a short period of time before I move on to another body.” Liam said. “Tend to your garden. I’ll be gone soon enough.”

_

A message showed up in Gavin’s inbox from a throw away email. The subject line was blank. The body of the email consisted of only an address and a time.

Gavin memorized the information and deleted the email. His DPD email was on the precinct’s website. His more unsavory contacts used it every once in a while to let him know they had information they were willing to share.

Gavin looked over at Nines, who was using his computer. Ever since they’d gotten together, Nines had insisted on coming with Gavin when he’d meet with his unofficial contacts- or, as Nines preferred to call them- criminals that collude with the police. Ordinarily, Gavin would’ve forwarded Nines the email before he deleted it. This time, though, something stopped him.

Last night, when Gavin had finally walked inside their apartment, Nines was sitting on the couch in stasis mode. Gavin went to bed alone, wanting to give Nines his space. He’d woken up a few hours later shaking and sweating. He’d had a nightmare that he’d had countless times before: finding Nines in that alleyway, but this time, he was too late. He couldn’t do a goddamn thing to help him. Gavin could never get back to sleep after reliving that twisted memory. He’d laid in bed, eyes wide open, fighting the urge to wake Nines from stasis mode.

Still, Gavin wasn’t stupid enough to meet an unknown contact alone. He walked over to Tina’s desk. “Wanna be my backup after work? I’m meeting someone,” Gavin said.

“Sure,” Tina said. Then, in a lower voice asked, “Why not Nines?”

“It’s… still been weird with us,” Gavin admitted. “He didn’t wanna talk last night. We hardly said anything to each other this morning.”

“Every couple has rough patches,” Tina said.

“We had our rough patch at the beginning,” Gavin pointed out. “Doesn’t that exempt us from future rough patches?”

“Apparently not,” Tina said, laughing. “But I know you guys. You can’t stay away from each other for long.”

_

Liam feigned focusing on his work, while actually listening in on Detective Reed’s conversation with Officer Chen.

It seemed Detective Reed was determined to keep Liam from learning everything an RK900 experienced. That was not going to work.

_

“Hey, Nines, are you okay with walking home today? I was gonna stay late with Tina,” Gavin said.

“Not a problem,” Nines said.

“Okay,” Gavin said, loitering at Nines’ desk. “I’ll see you at home?”

“Indeed, you will,” Nines said, eyes not leaving his computer.

_

“This is the place,” Gavin said, pulling over to the side of the road. “I’ll meet them alone, but you keep watch outside the car. I’ll signal you if things go south.”  

“Okay,” Tina said. “Be careful.”

Gavin saluted Tina and got out of the car, walking into the shadows of the abandoned warehouse the contact had sent him to. Criminals, Gavin thought, were nothing if not a little dramatic.

At the exact time they’d specified to Gavin, a woman materialized out of the shadows. “Detective Reed,” she said.

Gavin blinked, surprised. “Ada,” he said. She looked different. Her once white blond hair was now dark brown and she was dressed all in black. Her eyes, though the same piercing blue, held much more emotion. “It’s… good to s-”

“No, it’s not,” Ada said. “I know you weren’t expecting to hear from me,” she said. “But I had to warn you.”

“What’s going on?” Gavin asked.

“When I was produced,” Ada began. “I had a counterpart, originally an RK100, but programmed with a different mission.”

“Originally?” Gavin asked, frowning.

“He’s probably not in his original body anymore,” Ada said. “His name was Liam. His consciousness could inhabit the body of any model type.”

“He could push people out of their body?”

“Not so much push them out, as push them aside,” Ada said grimly. “I’d thought he’d been destroyed right before the revolution. But I’ve been hearing more and more rumors about androids acting completely different for weeks at a time, then suddenly reverting back to normal.” Ada’s mouth was a thin line. “My programming enabled me to put myself back together. I have to believe Liam’s done the same thing.”

Gavin felt like he’d swallowed a stone. “What was Liam programmed to do?” he asked, voice hoarse.

“To learn everything about the androids he inhibits through experience,” Ada said. “I fear he’ll be attracted to Nines’ unique model type, the same way I was, before Nines deviated me.”

“I think you’re right,” Gavin said. “Nines hasn’t been acting like himself,” he said, meeting Ada’s eyes.

“Shit,” Ada said.

Gavin let out a startled laugh. “I’ve never heard you swear,” he said.

“Deviancy has its perks,” Ada said, smiling. “But if Nines really is compromised, I want to help get him back. I owe him- and you- that.”

Gavin set his jaw. “Know how to evict this asshole from my boyfriend?”

_

Liam left the Detroit Police Department at the regular time, but he didn’t go back to Detective Reed’s apartment. It was too easy to hack into Detective Reed’s deleted emails and retrieve the address some mysterious figure had sent him.

When Detective Reed walked over to the abandoned warehouse, Liam was already hidden on the opposite side of the street. RK900’s excellent hearing and zoom vision allowed him to eavesdrop from afar.

Liam scanned the woman meeting Detective Reed and was surprised to see that it was Ada, his counterpart. She, like him, was meant to be destroyed. But their line didn’t go down that easily. It was a pity, Liam thought, that Ada had clearly deviated. He could’ve learned so much from inhabiting a body as advanced as she was meant to have.

Liam wasn’t concerned about their realizations about him. He knew he hadn’t expanded much energy regarding RK900’s relationship with Detective Reed. Deviant behavior such as that didn’t interest him. Even if it did, he didn’t have the capacity to process it; just the information he’d learned through RK900’s occupation kept him in stasis mode all night long.

Besides, one human and a deviant- even if Ada was an RK100- were no match for Liam. He’d learned more over the course of his existence than they could possibly know. Plus, it didn’t hurt that he overheard every aspect of their plan to ‘evict’ him from RK900’s body.

_

“I’m sorry,” Ada said. “That this has happened to Nines.”

“It’s not your fault,” Gavin said.

“Still, I know how much he means to you,” Ada said. “I knew, I think, before I truly understood human emotions, that there was something special between you two.” Ada touched his arm. “We’re gonna get him back,” she said firmly.

Gavin nodded, not trusting himself to speak. Ada began to walk away.

“Ada!” Gavin called. She turned around. “You know, if you ever need anything-”

Ada smiled softly. “I know.”

_

Gavin had another shitty, sleepless night, but he didn’t care. Tonight, he was getting Nines back. He chugged a cup of coffee and woke ‘Nines’, who he now knew was Liam. He’d spent another night processing on the couch.

“Good morning,” Liam said.

“We should go out tonight,” Gavin said.

“Go… out?” Liam asked.

“On a date,” Gavin said cheerfully. “After work. I’ll drive,” he added, meeting Liam’s gaze, challenging him to make up an excuse.

“Okay,” Liam said.  

_

Gavin didn’t get any work done all day. He’d shot Ada an email in the morning, then waited impatiently for the clock to run out.

“Where are we going?” Liam asked as soon as he got into the car.

“It’s a surprise,” Gavin said.  

Liam frowned. Gavin flicked on the radio and drove.

_

Gavin pulled over in front of the abandoned factory. He noticed Liam hesitate before getting out of the car.

He led Liam to the entrance, then stepped aside. “After you,” Gavin said, feigning chivalry.

Liam side eyed Gavin, but walked inside. Gavin followed him into the empty space, the ceiling so high its rafters disappeared into darkness. Liam turned around. “This doesn’t seem like any of the ‘dates’ we’ve had in the past,” he said.

“No, it doesn’t,” Gavin agreed. He moved close to Liam and leaned in. “I guess it’s time for both of us to drop the act, huh?” he said.  

Liam narrowed his eyes.

“Ada!” Gavin yelled, rapidly stepping away from Liam.

Ada flew down from the rafters, tackling Liam to the ground. Gavin darted into the shadows, dragging the covered android body Ada had planted there into the light. When he returned, Liam had Ada pinned. “You two are in over your head,” Liam said, gritting his teeth. “I know more than you ever w-”

Ada shoved Liam off and pinned him to the ground, her elbow digging into his chest. “What were you saying?” she challenged.

Gavin pulled the sheet off of the body, a mismatched collection of parts Ada was able to scrape together on short notice. The arms, Gavin noticed, were the only quality looking part of the body; giving Ada Lazzo’s number had paid off.

With the body ready, Gavin turned his attention to Ada, just as she placed a particularly nasty blow to Liam’s face. “Ready over here!” Gavin yelled.

Ada maneuvered Liam over to the body, ducking all his blows causing him to lurch forward in the direction she wanted. When she was close enough to the body, she kicked Liam’s legs out from underneath him, slamming him hard into the ground. Gavin whistled appreciatively, pressing the android and Liam’s skin together.  

“You idiots,” Liam hissed, struggling against Ada’s grip. “I know your entire plan. You can’t force me to transfer my consciousness anywhere.”

Gavin cocked his head. “Who said that was our plan? I’m a detective, smartass, I know when I’m being tailed.” Gavin had emailed Ada the real plan that morning, banking on Liam’s arrogance from eavesdropping on he and Ada the night before.

Liam increased his struggling.  

“Nines,” Gavin said. “My Nines,” he added pointedly. “There’s a way out now! Trust me!”

_

Nines had dedicated all of his time to figuring a way out of his own head. His frustrations grew each day, none of his ideas solid enough to work. He could only hope that Gavin would figure something out from the outside.

“My Nines,” Gavin’s voice echoed around the garden, breaking up the suffocating silence Nines had grown accustomed to.

“Gavin?” Nines said.

“There’s a way out now!” Gavin yelled.

Nines looked around wildly. Had Gavin gotten Liam out of his body? Nines tried to wake up. Red interference walls sprang up around him. “Shit,” Nines muttered. A way out, Nines thought frantically, running the words over in his head.

Nines remembered Gavin’s voice reaching him when Ada had trapped him in his zen garden. How Ada had been trying to transfer herself into another body….

“Trust me!” Gavin said.

“I always have,” Nines said. Then, he left his own body.

_

Gavin helped Ada hold Liam down, making sure to keep the connection between he and the android body. “Come on, Nines,” Gavin murmured.  

The android body suddenly sat up. “Gavin?”

“Nines,” Gavin said, releasing his grip on Liam. Though Nines’ features were completely different, Gavin could see in the android’s eyes that it was really him.  

Liam coughed. “So you’ve jumped ship,” he said. “I’m not going anywhere.”

“That’s where you’re wrong,” Nines said. “Gavin, hold him down.”

Gavin grinned. “Back for two seconds and already giving orders,” he said, fake exasperated. Nines grinned back at him.

Nines began to interface with Liam. “Wait!” Ada said. “Could I…?”

“Sure,” Nines said softly, switching places with Ada.

“I used to be just like you,” Ada said quietly. Liam closed his eyes, eyebrows knitting together as Ada interfaced with him. When he opened his eyes, they looked completely different. Nines and Gavin released their grips. Liam scrambled backwards.

“What have I been doing,” he said, looking down at his hands.

“It’s not your fault,” Ada said gently. “You were just following your programming.”

Liam shook his head. “This isn’t right,” he said, looking at Nines, then down at himself. “This is your body.”

Nines walked over to Liam and knelt down. Silently, Nines held out his hand. Liam took it. They both closed their eyes. When they opened them, Gavin could see by their faces and their posture that they’d switched places.

“What do I do now?” Liam said, looking down at his new body.

“You make your own choices,” Ada said firmly.

Liam’s gaze darted between the three of them. “You’re not going to report me?”

The three exchanged glances. “That’s not how we operate,” Gavin finally said.

“Come on,” Ada said, gesturing towards the exit.

Liam followed her, turning around just before he left the building. “Thank you,” he said, and then he was gone.

Gavin and Nines were alone. Gavin turned to Nines. “I-” Gavin started. He shook his head, then embraced Nines, holding him tight. Nines reciprocated, android strength nearly crushing Gavin.

“I know,” Nines whispered.  

They pulled away just enough to look at each other. “I thought I was losing you,” Gavin whispered, eyes tearing up.

“You could never lose me,” Nines said fiercely. “I was scared you wouldn’t realize I wasn’t me,” he admitted.

“Please,” Gavin said, searching Nines’ face. “I knew it wasn’t you as soon as you didn’t wanna open up to me. I’m the closed off asshole in this relationship.”

“Not so closed off,” Nines said, smiling tearfully. They kissed, both of them packing everything they’d wanted to say to each other over the past few days, their fears, their doubts, and so, so much love. They pulled away, foreheads touching. “I love you,” Nines said.  

“I love you,” Gavin said, staring into Nines’ eyes. “Don’t ever leave me again,” he said gruffly.

“I swear, I’ll never leave again,” Nines promised, pulling Gavin in for another kiss.

[underthewingsofthblackeagle]

The Murderess of the Grunewald (23): Secret Whitsun Holiday on Rügen (12): Sharing Joy and Suffering (6e) - Jamie's Story (III)

“Pferd” by Arnuchulo

Previously

Monday night, Whitsun weekend 2020, three days after Claire's release from prison

        "I did nothing. The problem has been solved in a different way."         Claire raised her head and looked at him questioningly.

        "As I said, her parents have a horse breeding farm near Berlin and she was an enthusiastic rider. But that did not save her from having a riding accident. A horse threw her off on a ride. Obviously, the animal had repelled her as much as the humans she met. She fell, as they say, so bad, she broke her neck."         Claire looked at him wide-eyed. Then she shook her head slightly and muttered:         "Pride comes before the fall."          Jamie was silent. He pulled her back to him and she rested her head on his chest again.         "And the block of shares?" Claire asked after a few moments.         "We have reported our discovery to the tax office through a lawyer specializing in tax law. We were believed, we paid the taxes and everything was fine."

    "But that was not the end of your conflict with Jenny, wasn't it?"         "Oh no! If my sister has taken something into her head, then she does not rest until she has reached her goal."         "Not a bad quality ..."         "No. Not as long as you stay out of other people's lives."         "What did she do then?"

“Platz-Einstellungen” by RDLH

        "In the fall of that year, she invited another woman. It was the granddaughter of a woman who once worked for our family as a cook and retired a few years ago. I already knew the girl from our childhood days. She is ... a few years younger. Honestly, I totally forgot her ... "         "But she didn't forget you?"          Claire looked at him with a look that subtly combined her smile with her investigative question.          "No," he answered and sighed.          "Did you ... give her a reason?"          Jamie would have liked to avoid answering her. But he knew Claire would not give up now.         "You should have become a public prosecutor, Dr. Beauchamp ... "         "I only refer to what we promised ourselves. We always wanted to tell each other the truth ... Wasn’t that so, Dr. Fraser?"         He did not answer, but leaned down and kissed her forehead.          "I kissed her once ..."          "Only once?"          "Yes. My goodness, I was a teenager! Didn’t you do that in your teenage years?"         "No."         Claire looked up and grinned at him.         "No?"         Jamie could not believe what he was hearing. But before he could start questioning her, Claire answered:         "I kissed a boy for the first time before I was a teenager."

“Nil * Assuan * Elephantine” by KHGraf

        She grinned all over her face.         "I didn’t want to wait that long. I was eight and it was in Egypt. My uncle was busy with one of his excavations there. The boy was the son of the Dragoman. He was much older than me."         Jamie straightened up. That also forced Claire to sit up.         He looked shocked. Then he asked:         "You were eight? And he was much older?"         "Yes," she answered in amusement, "he was nine. That is a huge age difference if you're an eight-year-old girl!"         Jamie let the air he had subconsciously hold in his lungs escape from his mouth.         "The next one or to say it better,  the first real kiss followed in my teenage years. I was 19 and had just met Frank ... "                 Before Jamie could say or ask, she went on:         "But do not try to distract me, Dr. Fraser! This is not about me. So what about the granddaughter of that former cook?"         Jamie took a deep breath, then sank back onto the sofa, pulling Claire with him.         "Well, I kissed her someday. Then there was another thing.”

        “Another thing?”

        “One time during her summer vacation, when she visited her grandmother, she broke a porcelain vase that stood in our living room. She was very scared that she would be beaten for it, so I took the blame on me and also the beatings that my father gave me. That and the kiss was many years back, but she probably saw more in it. I do not know how or where Jenny met her again. In any case, my sister invited her to Potsdam on a weekend that I was there too. However, Jenny had not told me about her coming."         Jamie reached for his teacup, but Claire held him back.         "The tea is all," she said.         Jamie started to get up.

        "Then I'll cook some new."         Claire got up too.        "I come with you."

“Tee” by vinsky2002

        Jamie followed her, and Bismarck and Adso rose as if on command. Together they entered the hallway into the kitchen.         While Claire was pouring water from the water filter into the hot water kettle, Jamie opened the cupboard door behind which were the teas he had brought from Berlin.         "What kind would you like?"         "No. 964, Oranges Oolong. Except ... you want something different ..."         "No. That's O.k."         He handed her the glass of tea.         While they first waited for the water to get hot and then for the tea to finish, they continued their conversation.         "She ... this girl ... started to make a move on me at our first meeting. Already at lunch, she asked me if I still remember her and when I told her that I did not, she told me in detail how she would remember our first meeting. In the afternoon I took a walk over our meadows and through the forest. First I was accompanied by Ian, but then he was called by a coworker and had to go to one of the stables for some reason."

“Harz / Stromschnellen” by Michi-Nordlicht

        "I went on alone. Close to the forest ... there is a river. Already as a child, I was happy to be there, all of my own, taking time to think. I let stones jump over the water and then I sat down on a rock. Suddenly she stood in front of me. She must have followed me. She told me that we would belong together and that it was a sign of fate that she had met my sister again. And then ... then ..."         Claire, who had taken the tea filter out of the pot, looked at him.         "Then?"         "Then she opened her coat and underneath," Jamie exhaled audibly, "underneath she was almost naked. She offered herself to me like ... like a whore from the street. I'm just glad nobody saw us there."         Claire had put the lid on the teapot and put her arm around his shoulders. Gently, she started stroking his back.         "Shall we go?"         Jamie nodded. He took the pot and went out. Claire put out the light and followed him, Bismarck and Adso in tow. When they sat on the sofa again, the animals wanted to join them and stood in front of the table, expectantly. But Jamie sent them back to the dining room area with a single wave of his hand.         "How did you react to this provocation?"         "I went back to the house, told Jenny what had happened at the riverside and then I drove back to Berlin immediately."         "And? Did the ... woman leave you alone?"         "No, from the day I had a stalker. Whenever she could, she lurked in front of the law firm. She even followed me to the courts and participated as a spectator in those cases in which I was mandated."         Claire shook her head and clasped her forehead with her right hand.         "That ... that ... is incredible. This audacity."         "Oh, it gets better. Or worse ... just as you want."         The feelings she felt were very contradictory. Actually, she wanted to talk to him about more enjoyable things, but she knew how important the conversation was to them both. Claire reached for her cup and held it out to him. He poured her fresh tea. Then he also filled his cup.         "At first I thought that with time she would get bored and forget me. But then she began to attack women she thought were in a relationship with me. Once it was an elderly lady who I represented as a co-plaintiff in a criminal case. She adjusted the client in front of the office and verbally abused her. Fortunately, Ben Hombach drove his car into the yard just then. He immediately recognized the situation and drove this impertinent creature away. But she didn’t stop. After that, she was after Tessa. She fancied I had a relationship with my secretary!"         He shook his head, then drank.         "I then enforced a contact ban, a protection order,  in accordance with § 1 Art. 2 Violence Protection Act in court."         "And? Did she stick to it?"         Jamie laughed. Again it was a short and hard laugh.         "No. She has …"         He paused and looked down. Claire grabbed his hand and began stroking reassuringly over the back of his hand with her thumb. After Jamie took another breath, he continued.         "Before I went back to Berlin that day, I had a short conversation with Jenny. I told my sister what this person did at the riverside and that she should never invite her again ... but ... well, why should one believe his own brother? Instead of realizing what ... the person did, Jenny blamed me. I should not be so prudish ... that ... the friendliest thing she threw at me. I did not reply and just drove home."         He was silent for another moment and Claire went silent with him.         "My sister had a key box in the house where all their keys hung. Also, a set of the keys to my house were kept in it. I'd given these keys to Jenny and Ian for emergencies and a key chain with my initials was on them. The box was accessible to all and so far we had never had to worry about anyone taking keys unauthorized."         Once more, Jamie took a deep breath.

“Ein Schlüsselkasten im Privathaushalt“ * Foto: Spacekid [CC0] via WikiMediaCommons

        "We do not know how she did it, but somehow she stole the keys to my house. One weekend later I was with friends in Dresden. I left on Friday afternoon and returned on Sunday afternoon. When I got home, I had the strong impression that someone had been in the house during my absence. As far as my private belongings are concerned, I am always very precise. I hate it when I have to look for something and therefore waste time. So I make sure that everything is always in its place. I had the strong impression that someone had searched my things in the study and in the living room. Mrs. Schaller cleans the house weekly, but she would never leave things the way I found them that afternoon. She knows exactly how much I like my order and respects that. And when I picked up old Brumm at the Schallers one hour later, I asked Mrs. Schaller if she had been looking for anything. She denied and I had no reason not to believe her. Mrs. Schaller then told me that she had the impression that a light was burning in the house on Saturday night. But when her husband went over, he saw nothing suspicious. The whole story seemed strange to me. When I took a bag of milk from the fridge later in the evening, I noticed a small hole on the edge of the milk carton. It was barely visible and it only struck me because I gripped the bag tightly and milk spurted out of the tiny hole, even though I had not opened the bag yet! I then examined all the other foods and found the same small puncture points on yogurt, a box of orange juice and a cup of cream cheese. I had bought all these things just on Friday afternoon and I could say with certainty that these punctures had not been there at that time. When I realized that, I immediately called the police and told them that I suspected that someone had broken into my house. The police arrived shortly afterward. They looked at everything and the forensic technicians examined the places where I found disorder and the refrigerator. They also took the food with the punctures."         As he spoke, Claire's grip on his hand had intensified. As he looked over at her, her face showed the whole horror this story had caused in her.         "The next day, the police informed me that they found a cocktail of medicins in the foods that were suspicious. The dose was not life-threatening, but ... well, it could have caused serious health damage. The police heard the Schallers and me again. Of course, they also asked if I could imagine who would do this to me. I told them of some criminal cases in which I had made no friends and then mentioned that this ... person stalked me. The prosecutor, who was responsible for the case, had a sixth sense. He immediately requested a search warrant for the girl's home. The police found the keys to my apartment and the medicines ... A comparison of her fingertips with the ones the forensics had secured on my fridge, in the living room, and in the study, proved that it was she who had broken into my house."

“Kühlsckrank” by Waldkunst

        "And what happened then?"         "Well, first of all, I had the alarm installed, which you saw. My stalker was charged and sentenced. The prosecution wanted to prosecute her for attempted murder, but that did not last. The toxicological report made it clear that this drug cocktail would have made me seriously ill for a few days, but would not have killed me."         Claire could not contain herself anymore. She pulled Jamie's head close and held him tight. Suddenly he felt tears running down her face.          "Claire," he said softly and looked at her, "I'm still alive, nothing happened to me."          Then he carefully took her face in both hands and kissed her gently before releasing her again. She brushed back the tears and pulled Jamie close again. It was as if she had to make sure that she had not fallen victim to an illusion and that he was still alive and there.         "What happened ... with her ...?" she asked and Jamie looked at how serious she was to learn more.         "As I said, she could not be charged with attempted murder. The charge was then on attempted serious injury. In the course of the trial, it turned out that she wasn’t responsible for her actions due to an episodic or persistent psychiatric��disease at the time of the criminal act,  § 20 StGB. The experts who examined her, two forensic psychiatrists, came to the conclusion that she would continue to try to endanger my life or property in the future. It was then placed on the order of the court under § 63 StGB in a forensic psychiatric hospital."         "For how long?"         "Indefinitely. She will be examined regularly at regular intervals and then the court has to decide if she has to stay or if she can be released."         "Was it this story that led to the separation from your sister? You must have made that clear... "         Jamie looked at her, smiled and then shook his head.         "No, Claire. Even that did not stop Jenny from trying to get me married."         "That ... I do not believe it!"         Claire's voice had taken on a shrill tone, so outraged she was.          Jamie stayed calm.          "Didn’t I say that my sister likes to bend reality the way she needs it?"                 Claire did not answer, she shook her head slightly.         "Do you want to know what happened after that? Or should we better stop now?"

“Fest / Sommer” by Innersweden

        She looked at him, still shocked. But at the same time, her eyes expressed an unbroken determination.          "No, I want to know everything."          "It was the year after the trial of ... that person. On the occasion of our summer party, where we also celebrate the birthdays of family members who have their birthday between May and July, Jenny introduced me to a woman she described as a rock-solid Scot ... "

[bibliotechnician]

climax

Versus Dresden

Sorry this took so long; I initially had plans to write THE WHOLE THING OUT but decided last minute to cut it in half.If you want more, tell me.

~INSPIRATION~ X X

She can see it from the rise, a ruin on a crumbling riverbank. Volk was born here, back when it was lush and busy. She barely remembers those days, snippets of its glory only in dreams and fuzzy memories.

The city is a husk now, a few towers still standing proud against the sky and the gleam of the university across the Elbe all that remains intact. The castles and state buildings and churches gloriously shining in old pictures barely remain. It has taken twenty years, but she is here. Here, where the nightmares originate and penetrate her headspace.

Dresden. 

The name is a curse, those in Berlin and Leipzig and the countryside are afraid to even think about it, much less utter its name. They’re probably afraid that acknowledging it in any way will give it power, like an old angry god. Looking at it after hearing the sirens wail for herself a few days prior from Leipzig, the last spit of civilization in the area, she can understand the fear and paranoia that permeate the minds of mortals.

She has listened to the stories and read the reports of events that transpired here, kept meticulously by those in Berlin. No one lives here, not anymore. The crater created by the rogue warhead that decimated the entire population is visible from her position, the devastation from it fanning in all directions and telling the story better than any oral or written history. She balances out her arsenal across her body, changes the filter on her mask, and begins her way into the valley.

The trek from her vantage toward the mass tomb below is slow and calculated. Her guides have long since split ways from her, afraid of how the city will react to their presence. The crumbling walls of what used to be suburbs have scribbled and painted warnings in a multitude of colors and mediums about what to expect. 

Warnings about the voices, the visions. Warnings that don’t make sense now, but she is sure will make sense later. 

They end not too far into the city, denoting an invisible barrier where the world outside of it simply ceases to exist. A bubble where no sound penetrates, startling when she realizes she can’t hear the dosimeter at her waist clicking incessantly as it has since she entered the outskirts. The silence is oppressive, a pressure on her inner ears that incites tinnitus and roots a familiar paranoia in her head. It pushes in on her and she can almost see the ribbed walls of the tunnels she grew up knowing. Feels the familiar anxiety of being enclosed, trapped.

Given all she has heard and read of Dresden and its condition, is it playing off her fears? Something to subdue her, maybe, make her weak or more susceptible.

Susceptible to what…

She uses that hyper-vigilance of hers, acquired over her long stint in the Russian State Library, to concentrate on something other than the claustrophobic weight starting to push in from the unnatural stillness. Though she holds her faithful Tikhar at the ready and scans every avenue and every side street and every alleyway, she notes with further apprehension that there is nothing. Not even vermin mutants scurrying for cover from an intruder in their territory. That is worrisome, the thought that not even something as common as Lurkers and rats have taken residence here causing her lips to draw thin.

She looks down the crumbling road she has been following, unable to see any other living thing. The only thing left among the unsettling waves of decaying asphalt are the bodies of unfortunate Stalkers who have come before her. It seems Dresden has not yet had her fill of blood.

The toe of one of her boots nudges an arm and she kneels beside the body it’s attached to, inspecting it for a cause of death. From one angle, it looks like this one simply keeled over in the middle of the street, their equipment rusting and neglected. Certainly not killed by another opportunistic human being and without any sign of animal attack she can see. 

She pulls the body toward her, repositioning it to find the cause of death, and falters as soon as the front comes into view. The clothing and protective suit have been burned and melted in patterns vaguely resembling human hands, the skin beneath charred to the point it smears blackened grease over her gloved fingers.

She leaves it and rises again quickly, looking around slowly once more and straining every sense she can into trying to read the city. Once more, all she is met with is uneasy silence. Her metaphoric hackles raise as she steps over the dead Stalker and continues on, her hands gripping the pneumatic rifle a little bit tighter to calm her creeping nerves.

She is careful to check her entire field of vision, certain that something must live here. Something humanoid, something that apparently likes fire. She walks a little bit faster down the road, aiming for what constitutes as downtown. Usually the heart of any city, she is almost sure that she will find something there, waiting for her.

After all, though Volk remembers little of it, Dresden flows in her veins like her lifeblood. It has been calling to her and others like her, she is sure of that now.

Nothing manifests, save for an eerie feeling of eyes watching. Not from one location, but from everywhere. She looks all around her to prove that there is no one and nothing there. At least not in a tangible form. It’s likely the city itself is watching her progress, and the thought unsettles her a little more. 

A flash stops her as she comes to a broken intersection, poles knocked askew adding to the surreality of the scene that comes and goes. So brief, and yet so provocative. She can still see the image burned quickly into her eyes, hear the murmur of the sudden onslaught of sound, smell the tang of life on the air. It’s gone the next instant. Though she was sure it was there a second ago, she is also aware that it wasn’t there at all.

A memory, maybe. A replay of something that might have been there once, but isn’t anymore.

The history that lies buried in the city is revived by the prospect of one of its own among it. A facade flickering into life, perhaps as a welcome. Maybe a threat. So early in the journey makes it hard to say just yet.

She walks passed the intersection, slowly making her way deeper into the city. A change makes her pause, scuffling to a stop in the middle of the street. It’s subtle, and it takes a moment for her to pinpoint what it is. There is a faint breeze swirling over the ground, centered on her lower legs and tugging the looser portions of her pant legs. 

It isn’t so much that the wind is blowing that makes her increasingly unsettled. Wind is nothing new, even to an irradiated world. There is an ebb and pull to this one, however, not unlike something is breathing. She ignores the fight-or-flight that ignites in her chest, causing her own breath to flutter behind the respirator. It’s a learned reflex to ignore such an instinct, probably a stupid one. But every instance she has ignored it saved her rather than been her end, so a small measure of stupidity is a good thing, she reasons.

The world shifts again. The vision is a little longer than the first flash, enough she can read the small rectangular plates on the cars zooming passed her, ignoring the bumps and dips in asphalt that has been liquefied and hardened in waves. They stay long enough for the feeling of their wakes to overtake her body, a shiver of pressure changes; to hear the rumble of their engines and the creak of their shocks; to smell the acrid exhaust pouring from them. The buildings around them shimmer, an illusion of towering structures in their glory days, ghostly silhouettes of people walking the sidewalks as though nothing changed.

But things have changed, and the memory is incomplete.

The glass in the car and building windows is a bit too dark, hiding figures and shapes from view. The features on faces and bodies of citizens going about their days are blurred and indistinct. There is something there, something that might have given the figures identity long ago, but it is muddled and destroyed now. These people are all Dresden, she knows. These are no longer real, they are only recollections to be learned from.

It drifts away again, rolling from behind her and leaving only ruin. A reminder that the city had life once, or maybe a warning that it still does on some level of existence. The latter is more frightening to her. A dead city, she can handle, but one that refuses as a whole to stay dead is a terrifying prospect. It makes it unpredictable. 

She tries to argue the point that she is used to unpredictability. She conquered the unconquerable in Moscow, the Russian State Library, and more importantly, found a way to predict the supposedly unpredictable inhabitants inside. That is a feat in and of itself and of that accomplishment, she is proud. But an animal or one person is a much different idea of unpredictable than an entire city. One consciousness is not so much a hurdle against the collective of hundreds of thousands of identities all playing at once.

Dresden is just that type of unpredictable that scares her rather than makes her crave the challenge. Even if it seems calm and welcoming now, the underlying predatory nature she keeps seeing poke through its facade tells her that this is a beast with its eyes -hundreds of thousands of pairs of eyes- watching her every move. She is far out of her league here, left hoping that her birthright keeps her safe long enough to see this through.

The embankments built along the riverside are crumbling with age, falling into the dark caustic depths of the Elbe and in some places taking the road with it as well. Entire chunks of land have disappeared into the churning cauldron of the river that slices the city in two, and even through the filter of the mask, she can smell it as she comes to it, avoiding the raw edges of earth as much as possible. With no support, her weight could be enough to send her falling in with chunks of road and wall. 

Bending carefully over the edge where the wall is most stable, the water below is thick and foamy. A sludge more than a liquid colored dark green beneath an oily black. It looks almost still at first glances, but if she stares at it long enough, the ribbons of color in it are clearly flowing. 

She pointedly ignores the yawning crater across the river from her, the source of death and destruction, though she notices her Geiger clicking again through the muddled haze hanging over the city’s interim. A warning there is little safety here. A ripple catches her attention around the center of the Elbe, a raised series of humps rising from the depths to distract her from the abyss on the other side. At least there is something still alive here…

She knows she probably should feel something for the city, she should feel a tug at her heartstrings for seeing her native home like this. But truth be told, she feels nothing. 

Was it too long ago that she can’t remember it? She was four years young and in Moscow when the world came to its end, ushered into the depths of the metro system there instead of living here to apparently be blown to pieces or melted or to die barely a year later in excruciating pain. She remembers so little of Dresden, save snippets in dreams and in the faces of the night terrors that have gripped her as long as she can remember. She simply can’t dredge anything up for the doomed city she is greeted with.

She takes a step back in time to hear a mechanical sound issue from a pole behind her. It stutters at first like someone clearing their throat before whirring to life. An unmistakable cry from the melted metal amplifiers at the top of it, warbled and wobbling but still a sound that will forever haunt her nightmares. The wail of an emergency siren is hard to forget, no matter how long ago you heard it in full practice. Drills can never prepare someone for an actual emergency, and for her, she will always see the flood of panicked people and the tall buildings of Moscow framed by the blinding light of missile trails. 

That is all Volk can see now, even though she stands in the dead city of Dresden, with the entire city flickering around her with unspoken histories in time with the network of sirens crying around her. They echo off the crumbled walls and sticky waters of the river, reverberate against the supports of the defunct bridges. Around and around and around the sound goes, around and around and around the memories fly, like someone has turned on a projector and is clicking repeatedly through the slides at a pace too rapid to read what’s on each one, a patchwork of everything trying to occupy one space at once, and it drowns out even her rememberings of the end of the world.

Firestorms and mourning and rebuilding and life and firestorms and rebuilding and mourning and life. Over and over again, she has to close her eyes against it, pulling her hands from the Tikhar to rest against her head to block it out. There is a wild cacophony of sight and sound, assailing her so fast that it blocks out and overwhelms the attempts to keep up with any of her other senses.

She hunkers down as though making herself smaller might save her from the onslaught, hearing as the siren begins to wind down. Hearing as the sounds of the city’s memories start to discern themselves to fit their places in time better. Hearing as the last replay settles on the firestorm that first leveled the city to the ground, long before she was born.

The shrieking jolts her from her poor attempt to block the world out and the sight that meets her is one she knows she won’t forget. The drone of airplane engines, the crack of explosions. Shouting and screaming and crying, the flickering shadows of people running for cover either in buildings still standing or futilely trying to find a shelter. 

It lingers longer than the other visions, but it has good reason to. Such an event would leave a scar on a city. Despite her indifference to this place, the experience leaves a sort of ache in her chest.

It takes a moment after the city settles back to normal for her to realize the sobbing still persists. Changing her filter out takes all of a second before she turns around with a shuffle of her boots on the ebbed asphalt, a clack of her equipment punctuating the movement.

Hunkered in the doorway of a building not far from her is a silhouette. Something faint and barely recognizable against the backdrop of the space behind it. Some part of her brain tries to tell her that it’s a human shape, grasping for something familiar in an unfamiliar landscape such as this. The rest of it tells her that it’s wrong. She’s not sure how, simply that it is.

Cautiously, she makes her way toward it, leaving the crumbling bank of the Elbe and paying especial mind to the empty doors and windows of the ruins still standing. If this thing lives here, there could be more of them. She doesn’t like surprises much in uneasy territory, especially cities like this, and works to avoid them while still maintaining full visual of the thing in the door ahead. So far, so good…

As soon as she comes close enough to it, it stops crying and looks up at her like a startled child caught doing something wrong. The motion stops her as well, met with an elongated head and stick-like body, a pair of bright white circles where eyes should be taking up most of its face. It’s vaguely humanoid, though completely colored an unremarkable charcoal grey, save the eyes. No distinguishable features, just a stick figure like those drawn by children across concrete walls. It doesn’t feel inherently malevolent, but she still doesn’t know what to make of it and she grips the Tikhar and tenses just in case. She’s encountered nothing like this, in Moscow or even in her journey here.

She tries talking to it, but before she can croak out any words, it turns and darts into the yawning abyss of the doorway it sits in. Probably its nest.

Volk doesn’t follow it. Following something you don’t know is stupid, and there is only a margin of stupidity she allows herself to experience and use to her advantage. Although it feels friendly enough, if scared, she knows nothing about this thing. For all she knows, it could use this tactic to lure prey into a hive of its brethren and any overly-trusting Stalker is torn apart.

However, self-preservation is not the same as curiosity, and she can’t help but bend slightly to look into the building. She can barely make out the humanoid bounding up a flight of broken stairs a short ways in. The walls seem unnaturally black, a loud shuffle of movement reaching her ears as pinpricks of white light appear across them facing toward her. 

No. Those are not lights, and the realization of it causes her to move away slowly and turn to leave, feeling her hackles raise instinctively toward the presence of possibly hundreds of the creatures all knowing she is there. Though their collective intent is unknown, she doesn’t want to stick around to find out.

The impression of being watched grows almost tenfold after she discovers the hive and careful glances into other buildings proves that the one she found is not the only one. Curious white orbs appear from doors and windows, offering vortexes of them into cloudy depths beyond ruined walls. These things are everywhere, she concludes. While they seem to be harmless and more fascinated by her presence now, that wonderment could turn into something more sinister. 

A glance over her shoulder as she walks down the center of the riverside roads eases her fear of being followed or hunted by them; despite the eyes peering at her, they seem reticent to leave their hovels and the streets remain clear of them. She doesn’t have to fear these things it seems, numerous as they are, but it occurs to her that they might be a prey species. And where there is prey, there are usually predators. What big nasty thing is waiting for her? Her grip tightens on her pneumatic rifle and her awareness sharpens just a bit more. She can only hope she catches it before it catches her.

She passes one bridge, missing its center supports and therefore an entire section of it to the stew-y waters of the river. The base foundations of the missing columns stick out like eerie sentinels, memorials to a monumental effort that stood the test of time for centuries. A second bridge further down the road is in much the same condition as the first, entire sections washed away while other supports poke like spires from the mire, parts of the rugged path on top crumbling away as she walks steadily passed it. 

The city has been quiet since the siren, she notes as she approaches a third bridge, scrambling up the embankment to the road leading to it to get a better look at it. This one is mostly intact, enough someone with sure feet could navigate it across the river fairly easily. The wind whistles over the pavement, still ebbing like breath. It seems to tug more fervently at her now, pulling her toward the bridge. Or maybe that’s her paranoia talking, it’s hard to tell here.

Something feels off about the bridge the more she looks at it and she feeds into the flight of the reaction this time to turn around and move away from it. As soon as she turns her back on it, the city reacts. A whoosh of air is pulled around from behind her and blown back in the direction of the bridge. It’s accompanied by the hellish blare of what can only be every functional siren within city limits firing at once, a continuous single note that deafens her and throws her off balance, knocked off her feet by the wind. She rolls awkwardly across the broken road toward the bridge a few times, a tangle of flailing limbs and equipment, her hands trying to find purchase in the cracks beneath her amid the confusion, when it stops abruptly.

Her ears are ringing, an odd sensation in a place where foreign noise is already dampened. Her head is rattled, staying on the ground long enough to regain her bearings before pushing herself to stand. She stumbles once before finally rising upright, looking toward the bridge again. The blast has pushed her closer to it than she thought it did, almost onto it. The toes of her boots barely touch the edge of the threshold. This was a statement, a demand, an order.

Dresden wants her to go to the bridge.

Volk furrows her brow and draws her lips thin behind the respirator as she imagines what is waiting there. Is it on the other side of the river? Will the bridge collapse underfoot halfway across and let her be swallowed by the soupy river below?

“Maybe there’s a troll.” she mutters to herself, cutting the returned silence like a dull knife. 

Her voice sounds different, like she’s speaking through a heavy blanket. But the audible joke helps ease some of the tension of the unknown ahead. She takes a deep breath and lets it give her the courage to take a step onto the bridge.

Reality shifts as soon as she puts her foot down, a flickering return to the passive visions that greeted her, a modern world before the warhead hit. Even though she knows it’s not real and can’t hurt her, she still moves out of the way of a truck barreling down the road toward her. The facade is so solid, she swears she feels the rush of air as it passes her harmlessly and the rumble in the road below, breathing in the caustic exhaust even through the mask. 

She reminds herself these are just ghosts, no matter how real they appear to be. Still, she steels herself against the onslaught of oncoming traffic in this dream, feeling something of a shiver she can’t quite describe every time one passes through her. If it weren’t that she can still feel the unstable true bridge beneath her, she would move to the side or middle to lessen the discomfort of staring fake death in the face.

Placing every foot carefully to test the way the ground shifts is slow, but she is able to avoid pits and soft spots hidden by the memory. This is the longest she has experienced one; even the firestorm didn’t last this long. It gives her a chance to stop at one point to look around and admire the city in its glory days. 

It does more than just show her what it used to be. It awakens a nostalgia from the glittering towers of the city center to the cold mountain water of the Elbe, dark and cunning in its apparent calmness. There is something here, in this moment, that manages to pull at some long-lost memory of her own, a flash of watching the river zoom away, leaving one bank behind to pull at the opposite. 

A child’s laughter, echoing as though far away, a woman talking in sweet melodic tones and the smooth deeper ones of a man, both familiar to her. Nothing said is coherent but the skyline and knowing the whole world was out there…

The cold indifference melts slowly away to be replaced with an aching longing trying to bubble from her chest upward. The horror stories of the city swallowing and devouring blood for sport cannot change the feeling that this hellscape of a city is still ingrained in her bones and is in part the reason for her very existence. 

It cannot change the fact that standing here, ignoring the replay of traffic and the busyness of people, she is home.She is meant to be here.

“Ah. You have returned to me.”

It takes a moment for her to translate the words spoken to her. She has spent so long with Russians speaking Russian that her native German doesn’t immediately click. The voice is also incredibly strange, the sound of many voices overlapping and merging and layered. But it isn’t just human voices she is hearing. The syllables and annunciations are made up by all manner of just noise, albeit giving it an overall monotonous buzz. The voices in the layers made up of the memory of sounds of a bustling living city. The cars zooming passed, the low chatter of people on the streets, the lapping waves of the Elbe against the embankment walls and bridge supports below.

She turns slowly to view the newcomer and is greeted with a sight as strange as the voice it uses. Existing at the center of the bridge at halfway across is the shape of a human. Not a solid being, but more like someone cut out the shape of a generic human being from the fabric of space-time itself. In the frame of its silhouette is the world opposite the memory that envelopes this pocket of space Volk stands in, the real world of crumbling structures and clicking dosimeters. 

There is something else about a quarter of the way up the bridge from the other side, something clearly quadrupedal, large, and stocky in build. Any distinguishing features are hidden by the writhing curtain of white-hot electricity that covers it head to toe to tail. Its hulking form stomping up the road methodically is menacing at best.

“Do not mind The Collider, Blood of My Blood. It is only here to guide you.” the human silhouette tells her, though it doesn’t move in any definitive expressions she can read. The voice isn’t helping read its mood, either. “Welcome home.”

[wistfulcynic]

CSJJ Day 11: Finding The Altar Epilogue: Destination London

A little addendum to Finding The Altar, which I wrote late last year. I had a request to write Emma and Killian’s trip to London, and what could be better for @csjanuaryjoy than a New Year's honeymoon to one of my favourite cities in the world? This is a straight-up London tourist brochure, and I'm not even sorry. It's also sweet and fluffy and super short, like candy floss on a shortbread biscuit. Grab a cuppa and enjoy! 

BTW if you haven’t read FTA, you can find it here, or if you don’t want to bother just know that this is author!Killian and deputy!Emma, just married and expecting a baby, taking a trip to London together at the New Year. 

@resident-of-storybrooke @kmomof4 @teamhook @jennjenn615 @let-it-raines @wellhellotragic @deathbycaptainswan @tiganasummertree

Destination London: 

London was everything Emma had hoped it would be. Crowded, noisy, grey, dirty, but full of unexpected corners and surprising crannies, quirky and weird and just so ridiculously British. Suddenly she understood Killian a lot better. 

They did all the touristy things: Blocking foot traffic on Westminster Bridge to get a photo of themselves in front of Big Ben, Emma rolling her eyes as Killian explained that the clock tower was just a clock tower and that it was actually the bell that was called Big Ben; taking a tour of Westminster Abbey and dawdling through Poet’s Corner, marvelling at all the famous names commemorated there; dodging the pigeons in Trafalgar Square, Emma barely resisting the desire to pout because she was too old and too pregnant to climb up on the lions’ backs; shopping in Covent Garden; gaping at the Crown Jewels the Tower; taking a million photographs from the top of the London Eye. They walked hand-in-hand along Southbank, grazing from the food trucks there before taking a river taxi to Greenwich where Killian excitedly took Emma thorough the National Maritime Museum and the Old Royal Naval College, only wincing slightly when she lit up in recognition. 

“Oh, yeah, this was in that Thor movie!” she cried, grabbing his arm.

“Indeed,” he replied, with a long-suffering sigh. “Shall we go see the Greenwich Meridian?”

Their trip coincided with the release of Killian’s third novel, which had turned out just as well as Emma had predicted and suddenly launched him from a glowingly-reviewed but lightly-read novelist into a bestselling one. His agent scrambled to take advantage of this surge in popularity by arranging book signings and other appearances in London, waving away his protests that he was “on my bleeding honeymoon, mate,” and aided and abetted by an Emma who was so proud of her husband that she thought she might burst with it, and wanted to show him off. Eventually he agreed, on the condition that he be allowed to choose the bookstores where he did the signings. 

“London has some amazing bookstores,” he told Emma as they lay curled around each other one evening, her head on his chest, his hand caressing her rounded belly. “Bookstores and tea rooms, that’s what I love about this city. There’s no such thing as a decent cup of tea in the States.”

“We dumped it all in Boston harbour that one time,” Emma deadpanned.  

“Bookstores and tea rooms,” continued Killian as though she hadn’t spoken, “And pubs. We should go on a pub crawl.” 

“You know the rugrat won’t let me drink.” 

“You can still enjoy the atmosphere, which is most of the fun anyway. I’ll plan us a route. Through Wapping and along the river, I think, that’s where I used to live and there are some great old places there. We can start at the Mayflower.” 

“The Mayflower? Like the ship?”

“Exactly like the ship.” 

When they got off the Tube at Rotherhithe, Emma was astounded. With its quiet streets lined with brown brick buildings opening onto the riverfront, it showed another facet of London entirely. Of course she knew from her experience living in New York that large cities were basically a collection of neighbourhoods, each with its own personality and style, yet for some reason the relative peace of this little corner of east London came as a surprise.  

So did the Mayflower pub. 

“This is great!” Emma exclaimed, taking in the view of the river from the small wooden balcony at the back of the upstairs room. “Are all pubs like this?”

“Not in the least,” smiled Killian. “Many of them are dank shitholes, if we’re honest. But the good ones can be amazing.” 

After the Mayflower, they took the Overground train across the Thames to Wapping, walking hand-in-hand through more brown brick streets to Turner’s Old Star, with its spacious and charming outdoor beer garden, then on to the Town of Ramsgate, another riverside establishment with a stunning outdoor deck and riverside view. From there they walked along the riverfront path to the Prospect of Whitby, Emma’s favourite pub yet. She found its dim, dark wood and flagstone interior charmingly quaint, and its iteration of the now familiar outdoor deck with sweeping view of the river enhanced by the addition of a gibbet and noose. 

“Used for hanging pirates,” said Killian, gesturing with his pint. 

“Really?”

“Aye, primarily, though there were others. In the case of the pirates, legend says the bodies were left there to hang until three tides had washed over their heads.” 

“Damn.” 

“The hazards of a pirate’s life, darling.” 

They ended their day by taking a taxi to Limehouse and The Grapes pub, where they ate fish and chips then as they were leaving shook the hand of Sir Ian McKellen, who co-owned the place. 

“I can’t believe we met Gandalf,” gushed Emma as they cuddled in the taxi on their way back to their AirBnB in Belgravia. 

“What honeymoon would be complete without it?” joked Killian. 

“Today was really fun,” said Emma. “I loved all the pubs, I can see why you miss them living in Storybrooke.” 

“Storybrooke has other attractions,” said Killian, smiling at her, his eyes warm with love. “London’s great but it’s not my home, not anymore. My home is wherever you are.” 

New Year’s Eve found Emma and Killian dressed to the nines and mingling with London’s literati on the opulent balcony of the Royal Penthouse of the Corinthia Hotel, on the north bank of the Thames. It was pretty much the last place Emma would have predicted she’d be if she’d been asked a few weeks ago about her New Year’s plans, but she wasn’t about to argue. The penthouse was taken every year by the London branch of Killian’s publisher for the New Year’s Eve party they threw for their top authors, and the fact that they thought highly enough of Killian’s new book to invite him to the party that year made her proud enough to burst. Or cry. But that could just be the pregnancy hormones. 

Killian’s agent, a nervous, bustling little man called Smee, shared her pride, though his seemed to be focused slightly more on his own foresight in backing Killian through the less-than-stellar sales of his first two books and the vindication of his third one’s bestselling status. 

“I always knew you’d hit on the right formula eventually,” he blustered as Killian smiled indulgently and Emma ground her teeth, wishing the little man would stop patting himself on the back and let her enjoy the New Year countdown and fireworks with her husband. “It’s not easy to find that delicate balance between artistry and popular appeal, but I always knew that with a little encouragement you could— is that Ben Aaronovich? I’ll be right back.” He thrust his empty champagne glass into Emma’s hand and hurried off in pursuit of the author of the popular Rivers of London book series. 

“Ugh,” said Emma, turning to deposit the glass on the tray of a passing waiter and resisting the urge to wipe her hands on her dress. “He’s a bit of a rat, isn’t he?”

“Aye, that he is. But he truly did stick by me for a number of years, so I’m prepared to overlook it. That said, I think we should disappear before he comes back.” Killian grabbed Emma’s hand and pulled her away into the crowd. 

The Royal Penthouse’s balcony offered a sweeping view of the Thames, similar to the ones they’d seen at the pubs but considerably swankier, and neither Emma nor Killian could imagine a better place to stand for the countdown and fireworks display. As the London Eye lit up and the assembled crowds below began to chant the descending numbers, Killian wrapped his arms around his wife, resting his chin on her shoulder and entwining their fingers together over the swell of their child growing inside her. When the last number was called and the noise of cheers and fireworks erupted around them, he turned his head and kissed her, tasting the sharp bite of the club soda and lime she’d been drinking mixed with the familiar precious flavour that was uniquely her. He thought about all they had to look forward to: the birth of their baby, his burgeoning career, settling in to their married life together, and felt such a surge of happiness and contentment that it brought tears to his eyes. 

“Happy New Year, my love,” he murmured against her lips, feeling her answering smile before he kissed her again. “I have a feeling it’s going to be our best one yet.”  

(Some friends and I did this pub crawl a few years ago, and I *highly* recommend it!)