#screens are everywhere and surveillance is everywhere

[rivertigo]

too much technology everywhere I think it’s making me crazy slowly

[akunya]

hello ive always loved your fics since nijien days and now more into love and deepspace, specifically sylus (the pipeline is universal, i’m afraid) so now, i beg for stalker sylus who is obsessed with everything you do, will fuck you in an alleyway please, cnc and mindbreak, thank you 🙏🏻

"window watching."

pairings: sylus x m!reader

summary: sylus can only take so much of your teasing before he breaks. unfortunately for you, his methods aren't so nice.

tw: NONCON, stalking, obsessive behavior, size diff., frottage, sph (if you squint), praise. implied kidnapping, handjobs, choking, coercion, dacryphilia etc.

notes: see how i didnt add stalker to the front of his name? i genuinely think he would stalk the shit out of you and it doesnt need to be an au, lol.

in all seriousness, i hope you enjoy it. i'm getting back into the swing of things... probably a bit ooc and doesnt follow the game lore (too much, that is).

im uploading this while sick, so i apologize for any mispellings/mistakes/etc.

please let me know what you think!

stalker sylus who cannot, at first much to his dismay, keep his eyes off of you.

everywhere you go, every time you think you have a sliver of privacy: he's always watching. whether its mephisto or one of the twins, he needs to know what you're doing at all times. taking note of what stores you visit, what time you usually come home, who you talk to. it becomes an urge he cant quite satisfy.

at first, he only watched out of boredom. yea sure, he needed you alive, so keeping note of your location was just another one of his duties. someone as naive and reckless as yourself was bound to get into trouble.

but gradually it gets worse.

"where are you off to now, kitten?" mumbling to himself, the man swipes across his phone screen, watching surveillance cameras with a bated breath as you walked home. your figure was a bit blurry, but that didn’t stop sylus as he watched intently. it was nothing truly unusual. around this time, you'd be already cozied up in bed, but it seems like work made you stay overtime tonight. "idiots.." sylus's brow furrowed slightly at the thought of you overworking yourself.

before you, he didn't care much for romance. friendship, trivial things: he thought those were what made a person weak.

but now?

every little thing you do drives him mad. the way you carefully fold your clothes after finishing your laundry to make sure your room stays clean. how you always greet the cashier at the nearby convenience store with a smile, thanking them for bagging your items. how long you take a shower for, which coffee shop is your favorite, even down to the type of shampoo and conditioner you use daily: sylus had it all down to a science. he practically knew everything about you.

even then, a question still rang through his mind. why would you waste your time with all of these other men?

he knew about that strange doctor who's gaze lingered on yours a little too long for his liking. sylus felt his fist clench when he would watch you talk to that painter too, jaw clenching in annoyance when he would see you walk home or to work with that blonde boy.

he shook his head, trying to snap out of his own thoughts. this wasn't about them. right now, this was about you.

it was another evening with you winding down after a long day of work. a tired sigh leaves your lips, and sylus’s cock throbs watching you undress as you slowly slip off your shirt. was it normal to be staring at another man like this? watching from cameras could only do so much, so this time, the villain found himself on a roof adjacent to your window. thankfully, you were too stupid a majority of the time to close the blinds, so he had a nice view of your nightly routine.

...which was mostly boring to watch, if he's being honest. you walked around shirtless for a moment, putting away your work gear and leaving your shoes by the door. it was a whole lot of nothing for a good 15 minutes, leaving sylus to rethink his choices for the night.

sitting on the cold bricks of the adjacent roof, he couldn't help feeling just a tinge of shame. "how pathetic, watching afar like some sort of pervert. i should just go in there and.." he scoffed, eyes narrowing in what seemed to be.. annoyance? the leader of onychinus hated chasing his prey like some sort of weakling. he was better than this. he deserved to have you in his arms, no matter what you thought or said.

however, his words abruptly came to a stop when your fingers trailed to the hem of your pants.

dark red eyes stared deeply at your hands as they softly pushed at the fabric of your boxers. languid fingertips played with the fabric, yawning as your thumbs hooked against the waistband and began to pull. further and further, pulling ever so slightly to show off a bit of your happy trail, the base of your cock threatening to peek for unwanted visitors to gawk at. sylus could feel himself leaning closer, the distance between the roof and your window suffocating as more of your skin was exposed.

almost, that is, before an imaginary light bulb in your head went off and you quickly took your hands out of your pants. "shit, i forgot to pick up dinner on my way home. i should do that now before i go to bed," you thought to yourself, whisking away from the window and grabbing a plain shirt to throw on. reaching for your keys and wallet, you opened the door and left your apartment as usual, unbeknownst of the dangerous man watching your every step.

sylus's own hands were nearly trembling. the ache and tent in his pants didn't help either, feverishly getting up and following you as you made your way into linkon city. he didn't have to ask mephisto or the twins to follow you - thankfully, the rooftops gave sylus a clear view of the streets below, and he could spot you out from anywhere. the man didnt bother to speed up either, knowing which store you were going to (you were very predictable, after all).

he also knew that there's a convenient dark alleyway just before you would turn the corner to go to the establishment. unfortunately, this vital piece of information slipped your mind, leaving you completely unaware and unguarded as rough hands yanked you into the darkness.

"mmph-!" you tried to scream, the hand covering your mouth muffling your pleas. even though you worked out and were pretty fit because of your hunter lifestyle, your strength was nothing compared to the man hovering above you, wriggling to no avail.

"shh, kitten. you wouldn't want anyone to hear us, would you?" the older man mocked, relishing in the fear and befuddlement in your eyes. it took a second for you to process that the other man was none other than sylus himself, smirking as you squirmed in his grasp. red eyes bore into yours, filing you with fear that rose every second. why did he have you pinned in some dirty alleyway like a thief? surely it wasn't money he was after.

the leader moved his hand from his mouth to your neck, holding you in place as you gasped for air. "s-sylus? what are you doing here?!" crying out, your body couldn't struggle anymore, so you opted for your hands gripping his wrist and trying to pull it off of your neck. "what does it look like im doing?" he scoffed, leaning in close to your ear.

"im here to see you, of course."

brow furrowing, you looked at him in confusion as you took in your surroundings. "a dark, dingy alleyway?" you thought aloud, looking him up and down. sylus fixed his posture as he looked down at you, your size difference becoming more obvious by the second. "oh, did you want me to come and knock on your door instead? i apologize, sweetie. you should've told me you wanted the big bad leader of onychinus inside your little headquarters." his grin infuriated you as you rolled your eyes.

before you could think of a clever rebuttal, sylus wedged his knee in between your legs, parting them open as his thigh pressed against your crotch. "i-i dont.." you muttered, voice raising in pitch to pair with your nervousness as he kissed your neck. he didn't bother answering your silly questions, simply smiling before biting into your shoulder. you hissed in pain, trying to push him off even more than before.

"you don't what, love?" his voice isn't serious at all for the situation you're in. cold skilled hands fiddled with your zipper, freezing for just a moment before gripping onto your girth. the sensation made you cry out again, unable to hide your face from your attacker, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes. sylus coo'ed at your feeble attempts to push him away, unbuttoning and pulling out his own cock to hold against yours.

looking down, the size comparison of his cock against yours made your face feel warm. ""aww, look at you sweetie. you're all bark but no bite." the older man laughed again, fingertip circling the head of your cock as he teased you. you loathed the way you shuddered at his snide remarks, the sound of the bustling city just feet away making you panic again.

you raised your voice, "sylus, this isn't funny anymore, seriously! cut it out!".

the wordless tension spoke volumes.

sylus didn't laugh or comment on your refusal. instead, his grip on your neck only grew tighter, choking you against the wall as his other hand started to make a fist around both of your cocks. "do you see me laughing?" his tone was firm as he squeezed harder on your throat. you couldn't say anything back, choking out a sob as he slowly began to jerk you both off together, a low moan slipping from his lips.

"ive wanted this for so long, kitten. so fucking long." muttering, he continued to grind his hips against yours, the unwanted pleasure making your head spin. "i've had enough watching from afar. i think its finally time i get what i want, right?" he kissed the tip of your ear, toying with the cartilage between his teeth.

unable to believe what was happening, you could only cry out more strings of "please", "stop", "no": all music to sylus's ears. "you don't really want me to stop, right? look at how much your cock is leaking onto mine.." he chuckled lowly again, grabbing the back of your neck to force your gaze downwards.

he wasn't wrong, either - dribbling precum and throbbing the entire session, your dick looked just as eager as sylus's, twitching with every flick of his wrist. it wasn't your fault that sylus was way more experienced compared to you. whining, you shook your head again, trying to close your eyes shut so you wouldn't remember any of this. the outside world was so dangerously close, and anyone could catch you two at any moment. how disgraceful it would be: a well known hunter being caught rubbing cocks with the renowned leader of onychinus. you frowned at the thought, whimpering as sylus went back to kissing your bruised neck.

"you could come with me, yknow. back to the n109 zone, i'd take such good care of you." sylus whispered as he felt himself inch closer to his own release, hand pumping furiously between you two. hot tears streamed down your cheeks, your brain awry with the overwhelming sensations of pleasure and pain. "you could have anything you wanted. you wouldn't have to work another day in your life." he groaned, balls tightening at the thought of his own perverse fantasy, imagining you kept in his bedroom all day just for him to use.

"d-don't, sylus please -" you hiccuped, forehead resting on sylus shoulder as he toyed with you. "im gonna cum," sobbing as you held onto his biceps, not wanting to sink any further against the dirty alleyway wall. with so much teasing and dirty whispers from the other, you couldn't think straight, practically panting in sylus's ear as his hands jerked you both off closer and closer.

growling, sylus slotted his lips against yours, a surprisingly gentle kiss before muttering under his breath. "be a good boy and cum for me then," using your fluids as lube, the squelch of his tight fist jerking off your cock made you spill. moaning loudly, your nails dug into his arm as thick ropes of semen poured out, mixing with his load that came seconds after.

silence filled the space between both of you as you tried to catch your breath. your eyelids felt heavy, leaning onto sylus for full support as he rubbed your back. you couldn't quite process what just happened, brain feeling much too fuzzy for any thinking right now.

perhaps it was a mix of exhaustion from your normal workday and your encounter that made you pass out on the older man's shoulder. nonetheless, he was not going to let this opportunity go to waste. pressing onto the comms headpiece in his ear, sylus spoke as quietly as he could not to disturb you.

"luke, kieran, bring one of the cars to my location. i have a little kitten coming home with me today."

[xjaylyn]

Heyyy . Thank you for opening your request. How about the reader finding out Armando being on the run with Mike and Marcus, has been secretly following them to make sure they're safe (mostly mando) .

Here you go love🤭

This was too cute ahhh...I cant lie I kind of dragged it....reader stood on business bout her man😌

From the tent, y/n looked around the scene. Cops were everywhere, looking to identify the bodies of the crash. It was a mess.

"Keep tracking, y/n. See if you notice any disturbances… we need to know if there are any survivors," your advisor pats your shoulder before walking off into the crowd.

'Who hijacks a police helicopter?'

Typing away on the computer, you continue to run scans and check surveillance for anything to help the team. Hearing a truck pull in, U.S. Marshall Judy Conrad steps out of the vehicle to meet with Captain Rita and another marshal.

"You ID the bodies?"

"Roger, we got three unaccounted for… Lowrey, Burnett, and Aretas."

Stopping your motions, you look up as Judy calls out to pay attention, deeming the three as suspects on the case.

'Of course… only they can involve themselves in shit like this.'

Shaking your head, you get up from the computer and walk over to Rita, still standing where Judy left her.

"Cap."

Sighing at the girl in front of her, Rita shakes her head, putting her hands on her hips. "Not now, y/l/n… I can't afford any more close relations to the suspects," she sighs, turning around.

"Captain, come on. Suspects? You really believe they would do some dumb shit like this?" you ask, putting your arms up with your brow raised.

"Y/n, I-" she stumbles over her words, staring at you with a solemn look on her face.

"I-my job isn't set on what I believe personally… it's set on facts, and the fact is Mike, Marcus, and Armando are on the run for something, and right now, evidence says they are the ones to kill the pilo-"

Rolling your eyes, you look at Rita one more time before walking away back to your station.

"I can't believe this shit."

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

Pacing back and forth in your living room, you've been, illegally, using surveillance of nearby cameras surrounding the crime scene all night trying to locate the boys.

Knowing everyone in the field is dead set on them being suspects, you decided to use your own skills to find them without notifying anyone. It wasn't to involve yourself in the situation but more so to make sure everyone was okay. Falling 10,000 feet in the air in a helicopter crash, someone was bound to be hurt, right? And it's not like anyone could check into a hospital to get treated because then they would risk getting caught, and it's just too much to think about.

Hearing a beep come from your computer, you quickly make your way to your couch and set the device on your lap, eagerly looking at the screen for what popped up.

"The Pony?" you mumble, confused at the location the boys found themselves.

"After all this, they go to a nightclub," you scoff, watching them walk into the building. Looking ridiculous, might you add. Closing your laptop, you quickly run into your room to change.

Stumbling to put on your jeans, you hear a small meow come from your bed. Looking over at your cat watching you rush, tilts their head at your actions, meowing again.

"Don't worry, mommy is going to get daddy and smack grandpa across his head for dragging him into some bullshit," you smile, running your hand across her fur, earning another meow.

"Sorry, bad language, dragging him into a mess," you say before grabbing your keys off Armando's end table.

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

Pulling into the lot, you watch as police and ambulances surround the area. Looking around, you notice a car in flames and some men getting taken into custody.

"What the fuck…" you mumble in awe.

Noticing Judy and a team behind her, you quickly turn off the car and duck down to avoid being noticed.

"They escaped, make sure you cover all ends of the road. They can't be too far," you hear her yell out to the crew.

Looking up, you check for any traffic cameras. Noticing one in the alleyway, you grab your laptop from the front seat and hack into it. Watching them run off before the footage cuts off, you look up at the direction they ran to. Noticing the docks are that way, you think of one place they would think to go.

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

Hearing a knock on the door, everyone looks up, then looks at each other.

"You expecting company?" Marcus asks, looking at Dorn, who has a confused look on his face.

"No… no one comes by here," he says, slowly getting up.

Kelly gets up, grabbing her gun, and slowly signals to Dorn to open the door. Everyone else stands clear and defensively just in case they get attacked.

Grabbing the knob, as soon as Dorn turns it, the person on the other side busts through, causing Kelly to aim her gun.

"Whoa, whoa, it's me!" you scream out, putting your hands up.

"Jesus Christ, y/n, don't do that," Kelly sighs in relief, placing her gun on the table.

"Y/n?" Armando says, noticing your figure from the doorway.

Turning around, you look over at Armando, still dressed in the hideous Bud Light shirt that he somehow manages to pull off… actually, he pulls it off really well, but forget that, that's not important right now. Glaring at him, you make your way to the desk he was leaning on.

"Are you dumb or are you dumb?" you ridicule.

"What?" he asks, scrunching his face.

Rolling your eyes, you hug him in relief, prompting him to wrap his strong arms around you without any hesitation.

"As long as you're okay," you sigh, leaning into his embrace. It's been so long since you were able to last hold him, let alone touch him, so the bashing could wait.

Pulling back, you bring your hands to his face and look him up and down to check for any injuries.

"I'm okay, mi amor," he says softly, looking down at you analyzing him. He squeezes your hands holding his face.

"Jesus, did you catch on fire or something? What happened to your pants?" you ask, looking down, noticing some burnt pieces on his jeans.

"Should've seen it, your man was el fuego," Marcus laughs, causing you to quickly turn your head towards him and glare at him.

"Why would you say that?" you hear Armando say behind you.

Making your way over to Marcus, you slap him across the head, making him step back and draw his hand up to his head to soothe the ache caused by your hand.

"Owww, what you do that for?"

Hearing Mike try to stifle his laugh, you quickly smack him across the back of his head too, causing him to straighten up in his seat and look at you, holding his head.

"That's for involving my man in your bullshit, Mike."

Hearing Armando chuckle, you look back over at him and cross your arms.

"I don't know what you're laughing for? I'm not done with you," you say, raising your brow.

"amor..."

A/N: They better stop playing with readers man🙂‍↕️… he gotta come home safe without a scratch, or there's going to be problems...

[dyaz-stories]

how long will I slide? || Eun Hyuk x Reader

word count: 1.4k

warnings & tags: angst, big spoilers for s1 of sweet home, that should be it?

A/N: Written for day one of @neohumanmonster's fandom event, Turning a New Leaf. Prompt: The Other Side. He's the one I had an idea for for that theme, but I actually haven't watched s1 of Sweet Home in a couple of years, so I hope this feels in character for Eun Hyuk, and that it's not too incoherent for the setting of s1!

Eun Hyuk has eyes everywhere in the Green House apartment building — as much as he possibly can, at least. He’s used to studying efficiently,to taking as much information from a page as possible in a single glance. He’d never thought his abilities would be used in that way. That he’d end up sitting in front of footage coming from surveillance cameras, making sure not to let anything go unnoticed, because that would be the best way for him to be helpful to the people around him.

Oh, he doesn’t just do that. He’s taken up most of the tasks that require organization, wouldn’t trust others with it, if he’s being honest, but this is where he spends the bulk of his days. In front of a screen. Staring. His books forgotten and gathering dust in a corner of the room.

He doesn’t get distracted. If his eyes linger when you appear in front of ones of the cameras, it’s just because you’ve been vocal about thinking that other solutions were needed, and he doesn’t want you to endanger everyone by trying to put one of them in action. That’s all there is to it. He doesn’t have time for anything else anyway.

So when one of his screens flickers, he notices immediately. His mind starts running through the possibilities as he leans toward it, all of them bad. Any kind of system failure would be disastrous. Loss of electricity would be close to a death sentence. A camera being destroyed could mean that the monsters are getting better at finding them, smarter, which would mean they’re evolving.

And the last possibility, that he’s having a hallucination because his monsterization symptoms are progressing…

Well, he coldly evaluates, it would depend. Maybe it wouldn’t be that bad, if the residents could evacuate before he loses control completely.

When the screen lights back on, and he’s met with his own eerily smiling face and eyes gone completely black, he’s almost relieved.

Good, he thinks. I’ll be able to help as long as the cameras work.

“Will you?” his other self asks as it spreads to the other screens like a virus, voice coming out like a screech through the speakers. “Are you sure you’re helping them?”

He supposes it shouldn’t surprise him that the monster knows how to get under his skin, and yet he sits straighter at the question.

“Of course I am. Without me—”

“Maybe if they’d run when they wanted to, most of them would be safe right now,” the monster says, admitting out loud a fear that’s been eating at Eun Hyuk since the very start of this forced confinement. “Maybe you’re killing them by making them stay here. And really…” It laughs, high-pitched and maniacal. “Using that kid when you’d never have the guts to step out there by yourself?”

“I would,” Eun Hyuk protests, even if he’s aware that there is no actual argument happening here. “But I’m not the same kind of infected person as him. And I’m doing my part here. It’s not like…”

“Like you’re sending a kid out to be tortured only so he can be ostracized here? Sure looks like it.”

“It’s not,” Eun Hyuk repeats, weaker this time.

The monster opens its mouth to speak once more, when there is a soft knock on the door.

“Eun Hyuk?”

It’s you, and the monster’s face lights up as Eun Hyuk’s heart rate picks up.

Out of fear, surely. He doesn’t want you to know about his issues.

“Well how about that?” The monster practically purrs. “The thing you won’t let yourself have. Won’t even admit how badly you want—”

Eun Hyuk’s not really thinking when he picks up one of his notebooks to throw it at the screen. It bounces without any effect, of course, and the monsters starts laughing once more, until that’s all Eun Hyuk can hear, while it gets louder and louder and louder and—

The door opens behind him.

“You weren’t answering—”

“Don’t—”

You freeze in the entrance.

“Don’t what?”

He knows before turning around. Of course he does. Rational, human him is deeply aware that there is no way for you to see the things that his mind is creating.

“…come in before I tell you it’s okay,” he finishes with an even voice. “If you see something you shouldn’t, I don’t want to have to deal with everyone else’s panic.”

You click your tongue at him, and he immediately hates himself for saying it. He doesn’t even mean it. You clearly have everyone’s best interests at heart, even if you believe in a very different way of handling people than he does.

“Well, I just noticed you hadn’t eaten your share yesterday,” you say, and it stings that your tone is biting, particularly when he knows how soft-spoken you can be with others. “I was bringing you something to eat.”

“You should let someone else—”

“You can’t let yourself go weak,” you reply, pushing the food in his hands and folding your arms over your chest. “You know how much people rely on you here. We may not see eye to eye, but the last thing they need is to start worrying about you and thinking you’re not able to lead them anymore.” There’s a second of silence before you add, almost as if you can’t help yourself “Also, you know I already think these rations are too small. You really shouldn’t go a day without eating at least that.”

 He glances down at what you brought. True, it’s meager, and yet he feels a smile forming as he looks at it, at the acknowledgement that you were worried about him, even if you didn’t phrase it that way.

“Thank you,” he says.

And just like that, you soften. There’s part of him that finds it ridiculous, how you’ve given him a million second chances, how he’s let you down every time, and how you keep affording them to him still. The other one is so, so infinitely thankful for your kindness.

“Are you okay?” you ask.

He sighs.

“As okay as I can be,” he answers, pushing his glasses higher on the bridge of his nose. “I don’t think anyone is doing good.”

You nod gravely, then brush your hands over your jeans.

“Alright. Well then, I’ll leave you to—”

His hand shoots out to grab your wrist before he can hold it back and before you get too far away. You turn around to look at him, surprised and a little confused.

“Can you— would you mind eating with me?”

He could justify himself. Tell you he doesn’t like eating alone, even if he’s been doing it since his parents died, tell you he needs another set of eyes on the screen while he’s eating, tell you he needs to talk to you about one of the residents. He doesn’t, though. You read him a little too well, could probably tell that he’s lying. And he hopes that, with that big heart of yours, you’ll just…

“Sure,” you answer.

You grab a chair, pull it so you can sit facing him. As you sit down, your knees brush against his. The gesture feels surprisingly comfortable, in a way that he hopes doesn’t bring too much color to his cheeks.

“Are you sure you’re okay?”

“It gets lonely in here,” he answers, which technically isn’t a lie.

There’s a wrinkle on your forehead as you study him, one that forms whenever you’re concerned.

He’s more used to seeing the one between your eyebrows directed at him, the one that’s there when you’re annoyed.

“You can always ask me to keep you company,” you say, and his heart skips a beat. He’s sure you didn’t mean it like that, tries to pretend that it’s the monster that stirs his mind in that direction, but he knows, deep down, that that’s not the truth. That he’s actually desperate to know that someone like you could see value in someone like him.

But the truth is, if anything, you see value in everyone but him.

It doesn’t matter that you’re looking at him with these eyes, that you’re sitting with him, that you brought him food. You’re kind. You’d do that for just anyone.

“I’ll keep that in mind,” he tells you flatly once he’s gotten himself back under control. “Thank you for doing that.” Then, after a moment, “Anything I should know about what’s going on out there?”

You start answering, soft voice describing all sorts of meaningless details that you’ve noticed and apparently care about. Eun Hyuk keeps his back to the cameras. He still sees, from the corner of his eye, the monster taunting him. But as long as you’re here, so real, so soft, so human, he knows he can resist its pull.

Too bad he doesn’t know how long you’ll stick around for him.

first time writing for eun hyuk and it was quite interesting to do! also i think i need to try my hand at writing him before s3 comes out lol. i hope you enjoyed it! reblogs and comments are strongly appreciated and keep me motivated and writing :)

more writing for sweet home

[autumnywinter]

Runaway - Yandere!Vox

TW: Abusive behavior, hypnosis, suggestive, dubious consent implied

Reader is gender neutral

It was a miracle you managed to escape Vox. Not literally. Miracles aren't a thing in Hell, especially not for you. It was a fluke, a mistake on Vox's part, a happy accident that you took full advantage of. It was luck that he happened to have business in another ring on that specific day. You were able to slip out without him noticing, or any of the Vees for that matter.

Not that they really cared to begin with, only to avoid Vox's rage. They both acknowledged you, but as nothing but Vox's pet. That's what you felt like, so they weren't entirely wrong.

And now you were trying your best to avoid him, making your way through the Ring of Pride. You weren't sure where to go, just far away from Vox as possible.

It had been three days since your escape, and you hadn't heard anything about it on the news. But that was more because you were scared to stand next to any TV screen that wasn't bolted down and already turned off.

So you kept your head down, hood up, and tried to think of a plan.

You weren't sure how Vox would react when he finally found you. Well, angry, obviously. Furious even. Would he hypnotize you again? Probably. Not before ripping you a new one. He had never laid a hand on you, but that didn't mean he wouldn't now.

His constant surveillance would make it borderline impossible for something like this to happen again. You couldn't afford to fuck it up.

You felt like an animal on the run. A rat in a maze. Everything you did was to avoid him. It was too exhausting. And dangerous. You couldn't get enough rest to make up for it.

There were so many ways this could go wrong. And so many ways it could go worse. You were ready for anything, willing to do anything to stay away from him. You felt like you were at the end of your rope, but you didn't have any rope left, and you were starting to fall off the ledge.

You had no one. There was no one you could turn to for help, not here. Even if anyone took pity on you, no one would be willing to piss off an Overlord.

But you knew you couldn't keep this up forever. There was no way for you to leave the ring, and Vox had cameras everywhere. Honestly, you're surprised you even still had freedom. Not that it felt like it.

Maybe he wasn't looking for you at all. Maybe he was just waiting for you to come crawling back to him. Or maybe he was watching you right now, waiting for you to slip up so he could swoop in and reclaim you.

One thing you knew Vox would avoid at all costs was to ruin his reputation. He cared far too much about that. So he probably wouldn't want to advertise that his little pet had escaped from his leash. You imagined that was the only reason you were free, or else there'd be a bounty on your head right now.

As you trudged through the streets of Pride, you turned a corner and saw who you recognized as Vox's bodyguards. Though he had tons of them, you knew most of them. Whenever he was gone for business purposes, there'd always be at least two keeping a close eye on you.

Your heart pounded and you felt a wave of dread. But they hadn't seen you yet, and the sidewalk was crowded enough that you could quickly hide in the bustle. You tried to look as inconspicuous as possible while keeping your eyes on them. They seemed to be looking around, checking the crowd for something. Looking for you, you thought.

The crowd dissipated, but a little too soon. There were several more bodyguards on the other side of the street, and they quickly spotted you. Your breath hitched in your throat.

One of them raised a walkie-talkie to their mouth, and you broke out into a run.

You ran as fast as you could, zigzagging through the crowds and almost running into other demons. You turned corners and weaved through alleys, and you could hear the bodyguards not far behind.

Your hood blew off in your frantic running, but you didn't bother to pull it back up. You could barely breathe, the panic and terror taking over.

After what felt like forever, you managed to lose them. You were almost too exhausted to stand, leaning against a wall as you struggled to catch your breath. Your chest rose and fell heavily as you gasped for air. Your legs were shaking violently.

There was a familiar sound of static behind you. Your heart stopped.

You spun around, only to come face to face with Vox. He wore an angry scowl, eyes narrowed darkly. You tried to step back, but you bumped into the wall behind you. He stood right in front of you, towering over you. He was absolutely terrifying like this, and you had no way to escape.

He reached out and grabbed your arm roughly, and you flinched and tried to yank away, but his grip was like iron. You looked around desperately for help, but there was no one around. Of course there wasn't. You had run so far from the busy streets, and it was far too late for anyone to be wandering around. If not for that, Vox probably wouldn't have shown up himself.

He dragged you back towards the limo waiting around the corner, ignoring your pleading and resistance. You clawed at his hand and dug your heels into the ground, but it was futile.

"Let go! Please!" you cried, trying to dig your heels into the ground, but Vox just kept pulling you along. You kicked and screamed, but it didn't matter. There was no one here to hear you, no one to save you.

Vox opened the limo door and tossed you inside, slamming it shut behind him. You scrambled backwards into the door. You were cornered, trapped between Vox and the door. Vox climbed into the limo and the driver started moving. You pressed yourself further against the door.

"Do you have any idea how worried I've been?" he said, his voice a low growl. You shuddered. "I'm your husband. Don't I deserve a little respect?"

'Husband'. That word made you sick. He always claimed that's what he was. You couldn't remember the ceremony, but the papers were real. There wasn't a doubt in your mind he used hypnosis for most of your relationship. You couldn't remember a single memory where you actually were in love with him, especially how much he claimed you were to be.

You felt a lot of things when you were with him, but it certainly wasn't love. You were scared. Angry. Disgusted. Violated. But you were never in love.

"I believe we've talked about how this'd go if you ever tried it, didn't I?" he continued. He pulled out his phone and showed you a video. It was of you, running through the streets of Pride, looking even more exhausted and miserable than you felt, even under the hood. "I know every street cam in Hell, don't forget that."

"Then why didn't you come for me sooner?" you rasped. Your throat felt raw from running, and your lungs burned. Your arm throbbed from where he grabbed you, and you knew there'd be a bruise later.

"I wanted to see if you'd come crawling back to me on your own," he said, leaning forward to look down on you. He was sitting right next to you, his leg pressed against yours. "And you didn't."

You shrunk back slightly. His gaze was harsh and intimidating. The lights of his eyes flickered across his screen and danced on your skin. You felt his gaze bore into you, like he was trying to figure out what was going on in your mind.

You tried to pull your knees up to your chest, but Vox reached out and grabbed your chin, forcing you to look at him. He brushed his thumb along your lower lip.

"I think you need another lesson on how things work," he growled.

"I don't want--"

"Did I ask what you wanted?"

He pinned you against the limo door and leaned in closer, his face only inches from yours. You could feel his breath on your cheek.

"Don't act like you didn't miss this, baby," he purred, his tone changing like a switch had been flipped. "Why'd you leave me? Have I not been spending enough time with you? Am I not making you feel loved enough? I'm the only thing that can protect you down here, but I can't do that if you keep running away."

You squirmed under his grasp. He was holding you so tight that it was hard to breathe. It hurt.

His eye swirled, the familiar hypnotic glow enveloping your vision, and the world around you began to melt away. It was like your consciousness was sinking into a swamp. You were still aware of what was happening, but you couldn't control your own body or voice. Even your emotions beneath his control were dulled down, and it felt like a fog had rolled in over your mind.

You went limp and slumped forward against Vox as he cradled you. His hands traveled down your body and slid up under your shirt, brushing against your stomach. Your skin tingled wherever he touched it.

Just as you heard a dark chuckle from him, just as his hands trailed down to the waistband of your pants...

"We're here," the driver said, interrupting the moment. Vox's hands lingered on your hips for a second longer before pulling away. He moved out of the limo first, then helped you out. You followed him inside without hesitation.

He led you inside the tower, an arm wrapped around your waist. As soon as you stepped inside, he kicked the door closed behind him and picked you up bridal style, carrying you into the bedroom.

You wouldn't be coming out of your hypnotized state any time soon.

[madschiavelique]

GOD I AM SO FERAL FOR SUB!READER W/ MIGUEL AND PETER (im so sorry for the all caps its how I show my enthusiasm 😭😭) but I rlly wanna see the yandere hcs ,,

SO AM I BESTIE SO AM I

headcanon : yandere!miguel o'hara x reader x yandere!peter b parker content warnings : yandere content, mention of violence (miguel and peter killing torturing and killing someone), reader being injured, peter and miguel are really manipulative in this, genderneutral!reader, no use of Y/N word count : 1,4k tag list : @fandom-ash

firstly, they'd had their eye on you for some time now

you were a much-loved spider, and everywhere you went people were smiling and complimenting you, not so much for what you did as a spider, but because you had such a delightful personality

you'd only recently made your debut with the Spider Society, and Peter and Miguel in turn seemed to slowly fall under your spell

peter came to see you regularly to check up on you, and Miguel called you more often to get more details about your reports

then one day Miguel started keeping a tab open on the side of his business activities with your locations backed up by surveillance cameras

obtaining a watch for you had turned out to be the quickest watch delegation in Spider Socety's history

the attraction they felt for you was becoming far too great to ignore, even for the workaholic Miguel, who thinks of nothing else but the maintenance and balance of the universe

peter had been following you around the society from higher up, and one day he noticed something that he immediately reported to Miguel: you were starting to see another spider on a regular basis.

he was such a lesser guy than Miguel and Peter that they wondered how you could have even crossed his path

you started greeting him every day, laughing with him, joking around, and they watched from afar

well, as long as you were just friends, there shouldn't be any problem, right?

but just as Peter was coming to eat with you in the cafeteria, the notorious undesirable individual showed up and sat down next to you.

too close, Peter thought. How could you smile at him, laugh at his jokes?

and what he saw made his jaw clench: the spider's hand caressed your cheek

how could he breathe the same air as you?

miguel had obviously seen the whole scene from the security screens, and he'd nearly smashed one of the desks

the next day, when you ventured to the cafeteria as usual, you didn't find your spider in your usual spot

strange, he never failed to find you here, but instead you found Miguel and Peter, coming to sit with them.

when you asked them if they'd seen him, they replied that he had some business in his own reality that required him to stay away from the Society for a while

of course, they would never tell you how slow and painful his death had been

as the months passed, you inevitably grew closer to Miguel and Peter. Since they were gradually pushing every one of your friends and acquaintances away from you, they were the only ones left.

you visited them more frequently, sometimes just keeping them company while they took care of reports.

you had become an inseparable trio, and not a day went by when you weren't with them.

in fact, they started gaining new habits such like showering you with gifts

everything they do to make sure you're comfortable enough to never ever think of leaving them is pretty amazing

(as if you had a choice to leave anyway)

saw a new cute little top that you like? already yours

it was almost uncanny how much they observed the details in your behavior

sometimes you'd simply walk past something, your gaze lingering on it for a few seconds longer than you'd normally wear it out, and the same day you'd find yourself with it in your hands

because let's be honest, they're extremely rich.

The technological advances Miguel had brought to the entire dimension had made him rich for the rest of his life and beyond, so he had no worries about covering you in anything you wanted.

and as for Peter, you weren't sure how he managed it, but what you were sure of was that he, too, had no financial worries

they were becoming a little more tactile too

peter took your hand in his, caressing your back and cheek gently, while Miguel had got into the habit of having you sit against him while he worked

your whole day consisted of keeping them company, but you had duties as a citizen of the Society

however, since they ran the Society, they could change the rules just for you right ?

it had started slowly, with them preventing you from going on missions and putting other spiders on the job

but your spider instincts soon kicked in, and you insisted on going on the mission

so they had a silent agreement that their eyes exchanged and managed to find an anomaly that was far too tough, sending you out in its dimension, alone, supervising you with the security screens

the anomaly was horrible, far too fast for you, far too powerful, far too cruel. It wounded you with terrible ease, while you struggled to even scratch it.

you found yourself in a corner, at the mercy of the anomaly, and of course, absolute fear gripped you along with the panic of not getting out of there

you screamed repeatedly for them to come and get you, as the anomaly was closing in fast, but they needed you to understand. you were completely weakened and scared you'd never be able to finish this fight, tears streaming down your cheeks as you called out to them, and they finally arrived.

they quickly took care of the anomaly, then came back to you, sobbing and shaking in the corner. they took you in their arms, cuddling you gently, whispering "now you see why we don't want to send you on a mission? it's far too dangerous, do you understand?"

you had to go through a painful little lesson to realize how much you needed them, didn't you?

they took you back to the infirmary, where they remained at your bedside until your recovery was complete

since then, you've never been on a mission again

you were a little bit too traumatized by the experience, and they'd managed to make sure that they were the only people you could turn to in case of trouble

so they offered to let you live in their apartment so they could be ready to provide for your every need, which you accepted. and on the very day of the offer, you moved in with them - they'd already had a room ready for you about a month before

it wasn't long before the three of you were growing closer together - which is, of course, somewhat inevitable when three people live together

the looks Miguel and Peter sometimes shared when they saw you were full of pride and mischief

they frequently exchanged them. when you'd come out of the shower for instance, when they'd deliberately remove your clothes from the bathroom while you were showering to see you dressed only with a towel to look for clothes - it always ended up with Miguel and Peter making you wear clothes of their choice

soon enough, you were an official trouple

from then on, you'd always have something on you to show that you belonged together: a necklace, a bracelet, you'd wear one of their t-shirts-

speaking of which, the first time they saw you wearing one of their T-shirts, they froze in their tracks while you simply went about your life in the apartment

you didn't go out for a week after that. the reason? there were several, such as the fact that, obviously, as beautiful as you were in their clothes, they couldn't allow anyone but themselves to see you like that, but also, and above all, because you hadn't been able to walk properly all week...

once you'd had the misfortune to go out without telling them, just to buy ingredients for cookies to make them a treat, and they'd moved heaven and earth to find you until you came home like a flower.

you'd been badly scolded. what if something had happened to you and they hadn't been able to get there in time to help? what if someone came to you and asked you to do a job for them that you couldn't refuse? What if someone was mean to you?

their anger had frightened you terribly, and you'd ended up in tears

they took you in their arms, reassuring you, comforting you and making you promise never to do anything like that again

it was from that moment on that your restrictions on going out were tightened. you couldn't go out without the company of one of them, and if you wanted to go out alone, Lyla was there to watch your every move.

one thing was certain: they were loving and soft, as long as you obeyed them

[sunonyoreface]

He Knows - Simon “Ghost” Riley Pt. 2

Hi there, this is a series about Simon Riley from COD. This series does not follow any of the established plots or timelines from the games. While I use the names of some characters, they are different from the ones in COD.

Summary: You’re held captive by 141 for reasons unknown.

Word count: 3338

Pairing: Simon “Ghost” Riley x Reader

Warnings: military setting, violence, explicit language, sexual harassment.

PT3: https://at.tumblr.com/sunonyoreface/he-knows-simon-ghost-riley-pt-3/qgt9szb2sixk 

“Don’t let her out of your sight. Got it?” Captain Price lectures soap as we eat breakfast together. It’s the third talk he’s gotten in the last day about the responsibility of keeping a “hostage”. I don’t know that I’d classify myself as a hostage though, however, something tells me it's just a legality and that there’s less paperwork for hostages than prisoners. That is if this ever gets written down on paper.

“Understood,” he says seriously. It’s only when he talks to price, that he uses this tone. Even when Soap tells me what to do, he doesn’t use a commanding voice. There’s always an edge of humour to his tone. It makes being around him actually bearable in this gloomy place.

They’ve been discussing protocol over bacon and hashbrowns. I’m surprised they’d do so while I’m present but nevertheless, I’m here. They cover everything ranging from where I’ll sleep to what happens when they’re out on a mission. No stone is left unturned.

I don’t have to wear cuffs at the table, however, everywhere else, they stay on. I eat whenever my babysitter eats. Using the washroom has to be approved beforehand and I’m supposed to sleep cuffed to one of they’ll hear if I try to escape. Which is a flawed system in my opinion because If I wanted to hurt them, that’s when I’d do it. However, Ghost apparently determined I’m not a physical threat. Apparently, I am a flight risk though. And apparently, that means I don’t get the privilege of wearing shoes.

When they’re on a mission, I’m to be locked in one of the interrogation rooms with surveillance. I’m guessing those were the rooms on the other side of the hall and not the one I was in yesterday. Part of me wonders why they didn’t want my investigation recorded. Another part of me knows it's probably because they didn’t want a record of me on file if they had to dispose of me. Then, I also asked myself why I had to sleep in the same area as the crew and not in the interrogation room, but maybe surveillance is easier when they don’t have to watch a screen all day.

Ghost sits beside Price at the metal picnic table while Soap and I sit on the opposite side. The other men are sitting at one of the adjacent tables, talking amongst themselves quietly. He doesn’t eat breakfast. Because eating breakfast would mean taking off his mask and I’m getting the impression he doesn’t do that all too often. At least around other people.

Instead of eating, he intently pays attention to Soap and Price’s conversation. His dark eyes flicker between the two as they take turns talking, largely remaining on Soap. I’ve noticed the two of them kind of follow each other around throughout the day. Last night, Soap made sure the cot next to him was open for Ghost. Then this morning, when Soap and I sat down to eat, it wasn’t long before Ghost found his way to our table despite skipping breakfast. I don’t mind Soap, but Ghost sets me on edge.

Just as the thought enters my mind, Ghost’s intense eyes make contact with my own. He caught me watching him. I freeze in surprise. His eyelids narrow with suspicion as he reads my expression. Nothing is innocent to him. Every movement, every gesture has some ulterior motive and he makes it his duty to reveal them. Even in the day’s early hours, he’s as alert as ever. I quickly break eye contact to stare at the last few hashbrowns on my plate.

I eat one potato at a time to keep myself occupied as the men talk. When I finally finish, I look up from my plate to realize Ghost is still staring at me, analyzing every movement. His cold gaze sends a chill down my spine. It's becoming clear to me that my interrogation didn’t end last night. No. He is as suspicious of me as ever.

Why did he clear me if he isn’t convinced, I’m innocent?

“So, when we move bases today, she stays with you the whole time. At any point do you uncuff her?” Price’s voice catches my attention as he mentions moving bases.

“Negative, sir,” Replies Soap. I get the feeling Price doesn’t necessarily trust him to watch me based on the amount of detailed instruction he provides Soap.

“Good. And the blindfold stays on ‘til we’re at the forward operating base,” he says. Soap’s leg bounces under the table and I can tell he’s tired of this conversation. Price is underestimating his abilities.

“Yes sir.”

“Right then. See you boys at 0700,” Price takes his place as he leaves the table. I catch the tail end of a shared look between Soap and Ghost, confirming my suspicions about them being close. I wonder what Ghost thinks about Soap taking on babysitting duties?

Last night while I was showering, Soap collected a few pieces of clothing for me that the men were willing to part with: a pair of wool long johns that I tied at the waist and cuffed at the ankles, a pair of thick socks, boxers, and a long-sleeved shirt that falls mid-thigh and fits like a dress. Several weeks ago I’d tell you I didn’t like the way shirt dresses looked, but today I’m just thankful for something that covers more than my ratty tank top. From what I can tell, I’m the only woman here and it’s made me significantly more conscious of what I’m wearing. I’m thankful for the full coverage and weary of any lingering eyes.

“Can you watch her for a second? Gotta hit the lavvy,” Soap asks Ghost.

“Not my job,” he answers plainly.

“Just watch her, will ya?” he quips back, leaving before Ghost has the chance to refuse. I watch Soap walk away before turning my gaze back to my empty plate. Suddenly the two tiny crumbs are worth analyzing in great detail to avoid making eye contact with Ghost. I feel his eyes on me, waiting for me to look up.

“Get up,” Ghost’s orders are quiet, but I’m not mistaken about who they’re for. He directs me to follow him with a slight nod toward the door. I quickly follow behind him, speeding up my pace to keep up with his long legs. I place my dishes in the bucket beside the door before leaving back to the sleeping quarters. Price mentioned we leave at seven, so it can’t be much longer until the team has to go.

After we exit the cafeteria area, he motions for me to walk in front of him. He did this yesterday too, ensuring I can’t sneak up from behind and attack him. Ghost is incredibly observant of his surroundings. Not only that but people’s body language as well. There’s nothing his sharp eyes miss.

“Pack your things,” he says as we enter the quarters. Except I don’t have anything to pack. I have a single blanket and a pillow that was lent to me last night, but I don’t even know that I’m supposed to keep them. Even if I can I don’t have a bag to pack them in.

“I don’t have a bag,” I mumble.

“What’s that?” Ghost asks, his voice tighter when he talks to me than Soap. He’s annoyed I’ve been passed off to him.

“I, uh, don’t have a bag to carry them.”

“For fucks sake,” he mutters under his breath. “Like looking after a fucking child.”

His harsh words sting, but all I can do is stand here and pretend to not hear them. Ghost rummages through his duffel bag until he pulls out a plastic shopping bag. He wordlessly extends his hand with the bag. His harsh eyes carefully watch as I process his actions and take a weary step forward to grab the bag.

“Thank you,” the words are timid and quiet. I don’t know enough about Ghost to gauge what his actions will be. Although he’s been relatively civil to me, he clearly also has a temper that boils just under the surface. And until I know what triggers that temper, I’ll be walking on eggshells around him. If I’m smart, I’ll walk on eggshells around all of them. These aren’t ordinary men after all and to treat them as such would be a significant lapse in judgment.

Ghost doesn’t respond to me. Instead, he ignores my words and turns back to his bag, packing up the last few items and articles of clothing from his space. Last night, I slept on the floor between his and Soap’s cot. This morning I neatly folded and rolled my blanket up and placed it on the pillow. Now, they only take a moment to stuff in the bag.

I find myself feeling directionless. I take a seat on the floor beside the cot and watch Ghost as he starts to check and clean his pistol. He sits on the edge of his cot now with his feet planted firmly on the ground. The gun looks small in his hands as he methodically disassembles it and lays the parts on the folded bed. His posture is relaxed and his broad shoulders slouch ever so slightly. He attends to each part of his weapon with care, cleaning the barrel and assuring every moving part is working. Ghost then unloads and reloads the clip before sliding it back into place.

“You left without telling me,” Soap’s tense, but familiar voice fills the room. Ghost mutters something indiscernible under his breath.

“I’m not waiting forty minutes for you to take a shit,” he says bluntly. I can’t help the smile that tugs at the corner of my lips.

“It was not forty minutes,” Soap sounds mildly offended and as though he’s reconsidering how long he was gone. “Oh, you think that’s funny now, do ya?” his attention turns to me. I bite the inside of my cheek to hide the smile and shrug my shoulders.

“Nope,” I say simply. I feel another pair of eyes on me and make an effort not to pay them any attention.

“Whatever,” he says grabbing his pre-packed duffel bag. Soap grabs a black fabric bag that looks like the balaclavas they all wear, but without the eye holes. “Put this on, you’re not allowed to see where we’re going,” he hands me the mask.

I take one last look at the sleeping quarters before sliding the mask on. The fabric’s soft, but I hate not being able to see. I’m transported back to being held captive by the last group of men who blindfolded me often. When they’d move me from room to room, I wasn’t allowed to see my surroundings. One of the men would get impatient with me as I blindly walked without a guide and occasionally push or shove me. Several small cuts and bruises remind me of his impatience.

“Here,” Soap’s hand lightly taps my shoulder as he offers to help me up. I grab his calloused hand as he pulls me up from my spot next to the cot. His other hand gently grabs my shoulder to steady me, before quickly letting go. “There ya go,” he says softly.

“Thanks,”

“I’ll save ya a seat LT,”

I’m grateful for soap as he guides me through the halls of the base with a gentle hand on the back of my arm. He’s patient: not yelling or shoving me if I don’t walk fast enough. A stark change from how I was treated before. When we get to the vehicle, he helps me up the steps and to a chair.

I hear several of the other men already waiting and I know for certain the layout isn’t the same as a traditional car. This is a military vehicle. A transport van of some sort maybe? From what I can tell there aren’t multiple rows of two to three seats like in a car. Instead, there’s a row of seats connected to the frame of the vehicle that align parallel with the road. Everyone sits shoulder to shoulder and faces the person across from them in the van.

More men pile in and I hear several new voices. There are definitely more of them than just the crew who found me last night. Soap takes a seat to the right of me and I become aware of just how little space there is in here. His warm thigh presses against mine as he straps himself in.

“Here,” Soap presses a metal clasp of some sort into my hand. I grab onto the tiny piece unsure of what to do with it. I tense up when he reaches across me and grabs a strap from behind my left shoulder. His arm involuntarily brushes against my chest as he does so. “Clip these together,” he presses the second half of the clasp in my hand and I blindly fidget with them until they seem to lock together.

“Is this right?” I ask quietly as I hold the latch out for Soap to see. I’m conscious of the other men who are loading into the van. I wish I could melt through the walls and disappear from their sight. I know I’ve been the topic of conversation the last twenty-four hours and now I’m right here for them to examine. The blindfold is almost nice because while I know they’ll be staring at me, at least I won’t know for sure.

Soap grabs the latch from my hands and gives it a tug. “Looks good,” he says. “Should tighten it though,” he grabs the straps closest to him and starts to adjust them. They don’t sit like a normal seatbelt. Instead, each strap wraps around your shoulder and waist to connect in the center of your stomach. The last person sitting in this seat was a man much larger than myself wearing a bulletproof vest and various other tactical gear; they need to be almost fully tightened to fit properly against my frame.

“Ghost, can you get the other strap?” Soap asks. My ears tune in to a heavy pair of approaching footsteps.

“Negative,” a deep voice says, but a new pair of hands grabs the straps on my left side. His gloves brush over my collarbone as he grabs the belt and pulls it tight. He’s more efficient at adjusting the straps than Soap, finishing sooner despite having started last. Once they’re both finished, Ghost takes the seat immediately to my left.

Like Soap, Ghost’s arm and thigh press into my own. The van is designed to fit as many people as possible in a limited space. Touching is inevitable. My heart rate picks up at the close proximity to the two men and my entire body is completely tense. I hold my hands together in my lap with my nails pressing down hard into the palms of my hands. I can already feel the marks they’re going to leave.

The two of them remain silent, however, the other men converse amongst themselves. They’re upbeat conversations. They almost sound excited about this next mission. One last man climbs into the van before the door slams shut.

“All aboard?” I recognize Price’s voice from the front of the vehicle. All of the side conversations come to an immediate halt at the sound of his voice.

“Affirmative,” Ghost’s loud response rings in my ears as he shouts back to his commander.

“Then we’re off!”

Conversations pick up again once Price finishes speaking. Minutes pass before someone across from me switches the topic of conversation. He starts talking to one of the men beside him. I can make out the first man’s words, however, the second one speaks with a low tone that is hard to depict.

“So what’s her deal, Soap? How badly did you fuck up to get that job?” The first man turns his attention to Soap. He’s saying less than he knows. Everyone knows why I’m here. It’s not like there’s an abundance of gossip or girls hanging around their base. When there is, they’re sure to be talked about. This man is fishing for more information from Soap. I feel his shoulders shift as he sighs. He expected this to happen, but not so soon.

“Didn’t fuck up anything,” he responds.

“No? They promoted you to babysitter for doing a good job? Might as well be a fucking lavvy queen,” this earns a few chuckles from the growing audience of men. They’re all curious. I’ve felt their eyes on me since the minute I stepped foot on their base. They’ve been waiting for someone to make the first move. All this fuss, yet no one has acknowledged me directly. Not yet anyway. I can’t imagine it’ll be long until they do. I haven’t been told not to interact with them. But I know better.

“Doesn’t matter,” says Soap dismissively.

“Right then,” says the man. It’s quiet for a moment, the conversation almost seeming to come to a stop. Until the man speaks up again. “And since when did we start bringing prisoners on missions?”

“Well, she ain’t technically a prisoner, right?” Another man chirps in.

“Either way, I don’t see why she’s coming with us,” Says the first man. All of the remaining side conversations have come to a stop. All attention is on Soap, the man across from us, and myself.

“Captain’s orders,” Soap replies. Surely Price is listening to the conversation now that his name’s been dropped.

“He order you to watch after her too, or is that something you volunteered for?” I feel Soap grow tense next to me as his frustration builds.

“Was a mutual agreement,” he deflects again.

“Yeah right,” someone else chimes in. “Who would volunteer to look after a prisoner?”

“Well I don’t know,” the first man drawls out in a suggestive tone as though he’s putting some real thought into his response. “Take the bag off and I’ll tell you if I’d volunteer,”  my blood runs cold from his comment and the air catches in my throat. He earns a couple of snickers from the surrounding men, but they’re quickly cut short.

“That’s enough,” Ghost's commanding voice booms through the van, reverberating through my chest and bouncing off the metal walls. Everyone freezes and the only noise that can be heard is the crunching sound of tires on gravel.

“Sorry sir,” The man responds, but Ghost doesn’t acknowledge him. An awkward silence fills the space for several long moments before a few quiet side conversations begin to fill the space once more. I don’t hear the man across me talk for almost the rest of the ride. Ghost’s sharp correction is enough to shut him up for a considerable amount of time. His men know better than anyone, not to piss him off.

Neither Soap nor Ghost says anything for the rest of the ride and I’m left to wonder about why he put a stop to the conversation. Sure, it made me extremely uncomfortable. But to the other men, it wasn’t more than mildly inappropriate. They say more crude things to each other every day without repercussion. So why would Ghost step in now? Why bother using his rank to stifle a meaningless conversation?

The rest of the ride is long and uncomfortable. My nerves are on edge now knowing how the men of this crew think of me like a piece of meat. I don’t know what I expected. I’m exhausted and all I want is to be able to fall asleep, but my heart is racing too fast and I feel like they might start talking about me again at any moment.

The entire time Soap and Ghost press into the sides of my body and while at first it was uncomfortable, I’m glad it’s the two of them rather than the other men in the van. The warmth from their bodies is strangely comforting – safe, almost.

[celestial-toys]

Observation Duty

“You said your eyes are everywhere, huh?”

Your question is met with silence.

Now, if you had been looking down at him instead of facing the ceiling, you’d have caught the brief image of your living room security cam footage as it flashed across the screen of his faceplate. You’d have seen the moment you tripped playing on a sped up loop over and over, your knee hitting the table’s corner, your body hitting the floor, laundry falling and dog food scattering just to rise back up unnaturally as the footage plays again in reverse.

You weren’t looking down though, you weren’t looking anywhere at all- and so you missed it completely, thinking nothing of his silence and continuing to talk to the ceiling.

“So… what, you just enjoy watching me do chores?”

- - -

Seeking distraction from the work weighing on your mind, you start a little play-argument with the tetchy automaton currently hogging your couch. It soon evolves into a verbal dance, skirting around some heavier topics that threaten to trip up the both of you as your conversation moves too quickly for this listless afternoon.

As usual, he takes all of your antics in stride. Well… mostly. Kinda.

Look- he’s trying, okay?

Pairing: Sun x Moon x Reader - GN!Reader

Word Count: 4,934

Contains: [AU - Real World] [argument] [feelings] [implied past trauma] [intimidation] [lack of communication] [minor injuries] [obsessive behavior] [sentient AI] [size difference] [surveillance] [tension] [touching (not sexual but the consent is still dubious)] [tsundere/yandere Sun] [unsettling]

A/Ns: Once again, the above CW's probably make it sound worse than it is, but I like to err on the side of caution.

This fic is part of my AU "[Not] Made by Design", the full series can be found here.

The light of the screen in front of you burns into your tired eyes. Your focus is waning, your mind preferring to wander instead to how badly you’re craving an afternoon coffee. Sighing, you push yourself away from your desk, leaning back into the chair as its wheels roll with the momentum. Bumping into the wall behind you with a soft thud, you slump in your seat, staring with unfocused eyes at nothing in particular.

A few deep breaths and a short-lived moment of empty-headed bliss later, you remove your glasses and rub your eyes with the knuckles of your curled fingers. Digging your heels into the floor and dragging your chair forward again, you place your glasses on the desk, and note the time. You’ve been in the office for several hours at this point, and if you stay much longer you’re willing to bet a certain Sun-themed bot will be beating down your door demanding that you take a break. So, after double-checking that your work is saved, you put your PC to sleep. Standing and reaching for the ceiling as you stretch, you grimace at the cracks from your back and shoulders.

Making your way out of the room and down the hall, you round a corner, entering the living room. The blackout shades are down, all lights off save for the soft yellow glow coming from a small lamp in the corner. The bright afternoon sun is peeking its way through the edges of the windows that the shades don’t quite cover.

Moon would likely complain about how “dark and sad” it looks if he were in here, but you don’t see him. You figure he might be in the kitchen, or outside charging, maybe. Regardless, if he isn’t here to bother Sun about his “depressing” lighting choices, you will in his stead.

The robot has situated himself across the length of your couch, which is quite a feat considering the thing is honestly just a glorified loveseat and even you can’t lay on it comfortably. For being as large as they are, their flexibility makes up for it, allowing Sun and Moon to be genuinely impressive in their ability to fit into relatively small spaces. You try not to mentally pat yourself on the back for the role you played in that ability.

This isn’t about you anymore.

The soft white glow coming from his screen is enough to illuminate the pages of the book in his hands, and from what you can see of it you think you recognize the cover as being the one you were telling them both about last night as you were falling asleep.

…Cute.

You smile, leaning against the wall as you speak up.

“Y’know, my parents used to always nag me about my bad habit of reading in the dark. It seems I’ve somehow passed that trait along to you.”

Sun hums, tone soft and dismissive, and doesn’t pull his gaze away from the book when he speaks.

“It’s not dark, the lamp’s on.”

One black silicone fingertip lifts the corner of the right page, gently pulling it across and splaying his hand out to flatten the book down again. You note how the width of his fingers span beyond both edges of the book. It almost looks too small in his hands, but then again… most things do.

“Besides, I can see just fine in the dark. The lamp is for you.”

Well, he’s not wrong.

There’s humor in your voice, speaking as you push up off the wall and make your way across the room towards him. “Yes, and I do appreciate you leaving me enough light to get around by.”

You cautiously perch behind him on the right arm of the couch, careful not to get your loose clothes caught on any of his protruding rays. You’re aware that in his eyes, you’re clumsy enough even with the lights on, let alone trying to navigate in the almost-dark. Given that, you aren’t sure if it’s truly his disdain for bright lights, or simply his desire to see you struggle that drives him to keep the areas he occupies dimly lit.

Looking down at the coffee table, a recent memory surfaces and you frown.

“Speaking of navigating in the dark… my knee still hurts from slamming it into the corner of the coffee table last week, you know?”

From your position behind him you can’t see how his display shifts from its soft, blank white, his digital approximation of facial features materializing only to shift into a grimace. You do hear the shift in his tone of voice, although you can’t quite name what it is. Exasperation? Or… concern?

“I know. I’m surprised it didn’t bruise.”

“Well, you know me, I have to take quite a hard hit for my skin to really show it.” You think for a moment, and add onto the statement, muttering mostly to yourself but his hearing catches it all the same. “Which has always been odd to me considering how easily my skin scars…”

He hums a little bit in acknowledgment, trying not to think too hard about your various scars and how you got them. “Well, from the sound you made when it happened I thought you’d really injured yourself.”

Your voice takes on a playful tone of offense. “I am injured! It hurt!” You reach down and gently press over the spot that hurts the most, unable to resist the urge to poke the non-existent bruise through the plush fabric of your lounge pants. You murmur to yourself as much as to Sun, “...and it’s still sore...”

His body releases air in semblance of a sigh, lowering the book to his lap. Still looking down at it while he speaks, his tone is a mixture of teasing and I-told-you-so. “While it may have been semi-dark in here when it happened- I’m not taking the blame for it. Things like that just happen when you run around doing three things at once.”

A small surprised laugh escapes you. “How do you know what I was doing, huh?” You reach out and carefully run a fingertip along the edge of his top ray. “You weren’t even in the room, silly.”

His rays twitch slightly but he doesn’t retract them much as his faceplate slowly tilts back, stopping at an impossible angle for any human and finally making eye contact with you, albeit upside-down. “My eyes are everywhere, doll.”

His tone is something you’d call playfully threatening and you hold his steady gaze for a long moment before eventually blinking and glancing away, conceding to a contest you could never win.

It’s cute when he tries to be scary.

A half-smile on your face, you dismiss his attempt to unsettle you. Halloween is next month. “Mhm. I’m sure they are.”

From your peripheral vision you watch his expression falter, his yellow eyes flickering to red just briefly before he speaks. “You were carrying a bowl filled with dog food in your left hand, fresh laundry from the dryer was hanging off both of your shoulders, and you were wiping down the coffee table with your favorite brown towel in your right hand. All at once. While cursing.”

You throw a confused look at him that he ignores in favor of continuing to reprimand your past actions. “You’re incapable of doing one thing at a time, aren’t you? Truly reckless behavior, you know. That’s how people get hurt.”

You let out a put-upon sigh. He’s not wrong, but you don’t want to admit it yet.

Time for a diversion, then.

“Hey, I can multitask! I built both of you at the same time and it turned out alright, didn’t it?”

For a moment, the room is absolutely silent as you both process what you just let slip. You’re about to rush to correct yourself when Sun beats you to it, speaking up.

He laughs at first, soft and a little dismissive.

“Not quite the same thing, sunshine.”

Alright, well… it seems he’s less bothered by the reminder than you thought he’d be. That, or he’s getting better at hiding his true feelings, which is a whole other issue you’ll have to tackle if that’s the case.

You cock your head to the side. Might as well play into it, then.

“No? How so?”

His eyes flicker to red, and this time they stay that way as his faceplate turns, click-click-clicking and stopping when it’s done a 180 so he can look at you properly.

Oh. He’s not smiling.

On second thought, maybe you shouldn’t push the topic.

“You designed us, doll. You didn’t build us, and you didn’t do it alone. You had a whole team behind you.”

Not breaking eye contact with you, Sun’s left hand that had been cradling the open book in his lap closes in an instant. A sudden, sharp clap resounds in the room as a result of the book folding closed so harshly in his grip. You internally grimace at the way it makes you flinch.

Your eyes flick from the book held tight in his grip, to his faceplate, watching his expression fade until his display is completely black. Any attempts at appearing somewhat humanoid thrown out the window, he releases a breath of hot air through his vents as you stare into the void of his screen. You know he’ll likely elaborate if you give him the space to do so, so you take a deep breath of your own, and wait.

It’s always somehow so much more unnerving to hear him speak when his “face” is gone, but you hang onto his every word regardless. You’re not gonna look away from something- someone you made.

“Besides, let’s not forget that even with a whole team of humans, you still managed to fuck up some… aspects… of the project.” Having dropped the comforting illusion of his false eyes, his faceplate tilts, a small, sudden, sharp movement so his ocular sensor can stare directly at you. “Didn’t you?”

Your stomach drops at the realization of what he’s referencing. At least… you think you know. Honestly, there’s an entire list of things that happened back in the facility that they have every right to resent you for.

You’re not sure what to say anymore. There really aren’t any magic words that can make it better. You hurt them. You all did. End of argument.

The realization must be obvious on your face, because his screen soon switches back to his default expression and he seems quite pleased with himself for about ten whole seconds. Then as quickly as it came, the expression he wears shifts into one of hesitation, frustration, and then finally- worry? Maybe? At this point it’s getting hard to tell what the hell he’s feeling, if you ever could.

“Sun… I… I don’t-”

You manage to hold his gaze as you stumble in search of the right words, watching his expression morph from one emotion to the next until his right hand moves, and your eyes immediately flick towards the motion. Your gaze drags up his arm as slowly, his shoulder joint rotates enough to allow him to reach all the way behind him- towards you- hand reaching out to gently cup your right cheek.

You don’t lean away. You won’t.

You dig your nails into the fabric of the couch. His thumb slips under the edge of your jaw as his fingers splay across the side of your head, and you can feel the slight pressure as his thumb lays against your carotid artery.

He doesn’t speak at all this time but from past experience, your mind easily fills in the words he usually says to you as he does this.

Deep breath in. Hold it. Let it out slowly.

You know what he’s doing, and you let him. It’s far from the first time he’s done it.

His mixed expression doesn’t change, his hand doesn’t move, and the silence drags on until you can’t take it anymore. Your voice shakes but you push past it to get the words out.

“I… I swear to god- Sun- like I’ve said before, if I’d’ve had any clue that you two were alive back then-”

You’re forced to squint as his entire screen suddenly flashes, solid white, red, black, repeating several times. His grip on your cheek tightens just slightly. A warning of sorts, if you had to guess. It shuts you up fast and he hisses out an irritated “Don’t.”

Confusion is written on your face and without thinking, you open your mouth to insist on your apology.

His thumb immediately slips under your chin, pressing your mouth closed with such a slow, gentle motion contradicting his current demeanor that it practically gives you whiplash. As soon as your mouth is closed his thumb slips right back to its prior position over your pounding pulse, and his display fades back down to solid black.

“Stop talking. It fucks up my readings when you speak.”

Your brow furrows in frustration at first, but you do what he asked, and what you’re good at. You sit there with him in the quiet and focus on your breathing as the sounds of his cooling system kick up a notch.

The seconds feel like they drag on for ages due to the way you focus on them, but in reality it’s only about three minutes later that he finally seems satisfied with the readings he took as he slowly retracts his hand from your head. The black void of his faceplate slowly lights up again, albeit he’s replaced his default expression with something more akin to a… dynamic wallpaper- yellow smoke billowing across a dark screen.

Whatever suits him, you suppose.

Folding his hands together over the book in his lap, he finally speaks, his tone low and unhappy but not angry, really.

“Your HRV is low and your RHR is high.”

Your response comes out sounding more dismissive than you mean for it to.

“Yeah, they usually are. Nothing new, unfortunately.”

Sun’s body tenses a bit and his rays retract slightly in response. He releases another hot breath through the vent at the base of his neck and you can feel the warmth on your thigh through the fabric of your pants. He speaks again, voice slightly strained.

“That’s my point. You need to relax, and talking about the past isn’t helping you do that right now. So just… drop it.”

You want to point out that he could stand to take his own advice, but you bite your tongue instead. He’s right, after all. You do need to relax. You both do, what with the two of you walking around ready to snap most of the time. In spite of that though, he’s doing his best to deescalate the situation and you ought to follow suit.

The lack of Moon’s calming presence is painfully obvious during times like these, but the two of you ought to be able to make it through one damn conversation without needing his assistance. You laugh a little to yourself, unamused but wearing half a smile nonetheless, shaking your head at the thought. As much as he’d hate to admit it, even Sun knows that the three of you work best when you’re all together, balancing each other out.

You sigh, and let yourself flop against the back of the couch, stretching your right arm out across the length of it. Sun’s invisible gaze follows you as his faceplate tilts on its axis and rotates to remain facing you. You note the way he’s letting his neck gently rest against your right thigh.

Leaning your own head back and closing your eyes in defeat, you speak towards the ceiling.

“Okay, fine, you’re right. I’ll drop it.”

You drum your fingertips along the fabric of the couch in thought, before adding, “...And… maybe... I was doing too much at once, when I hurt my knee on the coffee table last week.”

He lets out a little hum of agreement.

Still, if he thinks he’s fully won this silly little argument he’s got another thing coming. You’ve definitely still got a counterpoint. Counter… question? Whatever.

“You said your eyes are everywhere, huh?”

Your question is met with silence.

Now, if you had been looking down at him instead of facing the ceiling, you’d have caught the brief image of your living room security cam footage as it flashed across the screen of his faceplate. You’d have seen the moment you tripped playing on a sped up loop over and over, your knee hitting the table’s corner, your body hitting the floor, laundry falling and dog food scattering just to rise back up unnaturally as the footage plays again in reverse.

You weren’t looking down though, you weren’t looking anywhere at all- and so you missed it completely, thinking nothing of his silence and continuing to talk to the ceiling.

“So… what, you just enjoy watching me do chores?”

He chuckles in response, and the vibrations from the sound tickle your outer thigh, causing the muscles there to twitch involuntarily. You cringe at your body’s sensitivity, but Sun thankfully doesn’t react.

Begrudgingly, you open your eyes and crane your head back up, bringing your right hand up off the couch to lean on. You pull your left leg up towards yourself at the same time, heel propping up on the arm of the couch. Curling toward your right, you realize you’ve inadvertently wrapped your body around his head, which is all but resting in your lap at this point. His rays are mostly retracted by now and the display on his faceplate has shifted once again, yellow clouds still billowing across black but he’s allowed parts of his expression to return, pale white eyes emerging from the smoke.

His face is otherwise unreadable as he finally responds to you. “My priority is keeping you safe. How can I do that if I can’t see you?”

You can’t help but scoff a little at that. “Safe? You were- apparently- watching me, and still let me trip on one of Zero’s toys and slam my knee into the table.”

At that, his mouth returns and he frowns at your tone, and so do you, realizing that you came across a bit more accusatory than you meant to. A beat passes where you both just stare at each other, and his voice is a lot softer when he speaks again.

“Was I not by your side within seconds after the fall, checking you for injuries?”

He was, and you know it. He was on you inhumanly fast, cradling your head like you’d fallen off a ladder or something and not just tripped and fell to your hands and knees on plush carpet. He’s a worrier and you know it damn well, even if he’d rather be decommissioned than admit to it.

Unfortunately, you never learned how to let yourself accept help, nor how to stop being stubborn in a stupid argument that you started yourself. “...Yeah. I guess. But you still could have offered to help before I tripped.”

He rolls his eyes before they land back on you, fixing you with a look that’s unexpectedly soft. In stark contrast, his voice comes out strained. “I was trying not to hover, sunshine.”

Your eyes flick away from his, always unable to maintain the sustained contact once things got a little too serious.

He keeps talking regardless.

“I know you. You would have been like- ‘Oh, no, I’ve got it! Don’t even worry about it!’ and wouldn’t have let me help even if I did offer.”

You scoff before leveling him with an unamused stare. “Oh, I do not sound like that. Shut it.”

He’s wearing a neutral expression but you notice as it shifts slightly, a hint of satisfaction at having gotten under your skin beginning to make itself known. You watch the hint of emotion begin to alter his digital features, as well as his voice.

“Regardless. ‘No lesson is as powerful as the lesson learned on one’s own.’ Besides, I knew you’d be fine.”

You blink down at him for a moment as you process his statement, and fail to contain your exasperated huff of annoyance when you realize where you’ve heard some of those words before.

“Don’t quote Night Vale at me right now, Sun.”

If you hadn’t been watching him so closely, you’d have missed the way his eyes turned upwards a bit, seemingly pleased with himself.

You continue, in spite of his attempts to deflect your words.

“You didn’t sound so self assured when you were rushing over to me on the floor with those big red “eyes” of yours blown wide. You were all like- ‘Where does it hurt? Show me. Where. How bad? You didn’t hit your head, right? Forget about the dog food- look at me.’ and all that.”

His eyes shift from crescent moons to flat lines, and his voice returns to his typical deadpan tone.

“You do a terrible impression of me.”

You scoff.

“Like yours is better?”

He nods, his faceplate shifting up and down within the limited range of motion he’s allowed, given your current position.

“I can literally mimic your voice. Mine is objectively superior.”

Thoughts of The Mimic flash in your mind, and it takes all you’ve got to not crack some sort of half-baked joke about the Ruin DLC. The smile on your face does little to hide the temptation, though.

“Debatable.”

Sun doesn’t press you for more, seeming less than eager to hear whatever joke he’s sure you’ve got sitting on the tip of your tongue.

“It’s not up for debate. If you wanna debate with someone go find Moon.”

He sighs heavily, breathing out his next words in an impressive display of realism given that his speech and breathing functions aren’t connected at all.

“I've run out of conversation juice.”

He shifts to sit back up, faceplate rotating, returning his body to its original position facing away from you. You huff and uncurl yourself from your perch on the couch. Moving to stand, you make your way around to the other end where his long legs cause his feet to jut out comically far past the armrest. You reach down, gently grabbing him by the ankles and begin to maneuver his legs out of the way, muttering to yourself as you do so.

“Wish I was a robot so I could lie and say my system has run out of something I don’t even have in the first place…”

He puts up no resistance as you fold his legs away accordion style, watching you in what almost seems like thoughtful silence. Once you’ve made room for yourself, you perch once again on the other arm of the couch, your feet resting on the far left cushion and your left side leaning against the backrest. He finally speaks once it seems that you’re settled.

“Alright. How would you rather I put it?”

You quirk an eyebrow up, slightly surprised at the sincere tone of his question. Shaking your head, you're quick to convey that you were only joking.

“No, no I didn't say to change it. I like ‘conversation juice', I think it’s funny.”

He tilts his head a bit, slow and analyzing. Half a smile slowly curls across his face and both of his eyes take on a soft, pale yellow. If you didn’t know better, you’d think he was tired. He's looking at you with such a gentle gaze. It's almost… sad, if you look closely enough.

“Funny? Hm. Well, I suppose I am nothing if not a clown.”

His attention drifts back down to his book, cracking it open and flipping through to return to the page he left off on in no particular hurry.

You know his deadpan tone likely isn’t meant to sound so self deprecating but your heart still hurts at the thought that he only sees himself as some sort of… novelty toy. A joke. A mechanical clown for you to play with when you’re bored. A comedic horror character brought to life.

He can only make so many jokes about himself before they start to sound less like jokes and more like a way for him to vent his insecurities. You understand that type of “humor” far too well to just sit back and watch him do it to himself.

You struggle to resist the urge to remind him that there is much, much more to him than being modeled after that character from that game. You consider reaching out and curling the tip of a finger under the bottom edge of his face plate. You think about gently tilting his face away from the book and back up at you. You want to look him in the eye while you tell him all of the things that you love about him, and how much he means to you, and that he is so much more than a clown.

But you know he handles comfort and praise just about as well as a cat handles falling into a bathtub, so… you resist the urge. For now.

Eventually, one day, likely far from now, you hope to get him used to the amount of love you have to give, and you’ll smother him with it like you want to. But if you lay it all on him like that right now, he would probably overheat and shut down. Both metaphorically and literally.

You really don’t want that to happen again. Scared the hell out of you last time. Even knowing that it’s a safety measure to ensure that he doesn’t sustain damage from overheating- it looks an awful lot like he’s dying when it happens and you’d like to not have to see it again.

So, you opt to keep things lighthearted. You smile as you reach out to pat him on the knee.

“And an excellent clown you are, dear.”

There’s more sugar in your tone than you intended to let out, but if he knew everything you really wanted to say, he’d realize that you’re actually being very reserved right now.

You’re being very normal about it all, you think, as you silently praise yourself.

When you finally get out of your thoughts and back into your body, you realize that you’re being eyed by the man on your couch in such a way that indicates he knows you were caught up in your head again. You spent too long in silence before you responded to him and now he’s likely aware that you were wanting to say something else.

A lot else, actually.

So, before he can potentially ask you what you’re thinking about, you attempt to change the topic. Laughing a bit to yourself, you stretch and shift to make your sudden and hopefully casual retreat from the couch and the awkward air you’ve clouded around it. Twisting around and planting your feet on the floor, there’s forced humor in your voice as you wonder aloud where his other half is.

“Speaking of clowns, what’s Moon been up to while I was working?”

Sun’s expression is unreadable as he spares you one last moment of his visual attention before angling his monitor back down toward the book. You know he’s perfectly capable of taking in visual information while outputting completely separate verbal communication, and can give both tasks his full attention simultaneously in the way no human truly could. Still, in spite of that knowledge, you doubt he’s really paying much attention to the words on the pages before him as he speaks to you right now.

“You know that sad, sad little plant that’s been fighting for its life on your kitchen windowsill for the last… thirty-seven days?”

You cringe a bit at the reminder of the succulent you impulse-purchased recently- well, a tad longer than recently if Sun’s count is accurate, which you know it is. You’ve been meaning to re-pot the poor thing and find a different place for it where it’ll receive better light, but… you’ve been meaning to do a lot of things.

“...Yeah…”

“Last I saw, he took it outside through the back door. He was muttering something about ‘saving’ it.”

Your eyebrows knit as your gaze casts across the floor.

“Saving it... okay.”

As far as you’re aware, you don’t have any potting soil on hand, so you struggle to feature what he’s out there doing with it.

It’s right around this time that you notice the silence of the house amidst your quiet consideration.

You raise another question.

“I assume Zero followed him out there?”

Sun’s true focus seems to be gradually shifting away from you and back into the book, if his display’s shift back to blank, soft white and his neutral-toned yet concise reply are anything to go off of.

“Mhm.”

You suck in a breath and pat your legs before easing yourself up off of the couch.

“I'm gonna go see what they’re up to, then.”

You’re so bold as to lay a gentle hand briefly on his shoulder as you pass him by, lingering just long enough to let something sincere slip.

“I hope you enjoy the book.”

He kicks his folded legs back out, crossing them as they come to rest on the opposite armrest once again.

“Don’t spoil it for me.”

You smile at his avoidance of your sentimentality, laughing a bit as you cross the room, headed for the back door, your tone playful.

“I make no promises!”

A/N: Thank you for reading, I hope you enjoyed! You can find my (lengthy) commentary on this fic in the end notes right here on Ao3. Links to the playlist and moodboard for [N]MbD can be found on this blog's pinned post, as well as in the series notes on Ao3. Header Image Source: x

[starwrighter]

I am not a baby!!(Yes you are)

(Ao3) (Masterpost) (Previous) (Next)

(Chapter 18 baby!)

The hatchling didn’t stay in his nest very long. Damian had thought the little one would be exhausted after his first encounter with Grayson. He himself had been exhausted by the encounter. It had taken ages to convince the other to leave and stop stalking near the plateaus.

The constant attempts at surveillance from his siblings were irritating before he’d been assigned to watch the hatchling. They were infuriating now. He isn't an infant anymore, and he hasn't been one for a thousand years. It's annoying that his siblings thought him so incompetent that he couldn’t complete this one simple task.

They acted like they weren't guilty of losing hatchlings in their territories. Scolding him like a hatchling slipping past someone was this unheard-of act of negligence. He knew for a fact each and every one of them had lost track of a guppy at least once. At least the little one he’s guarding was still alive. Damian had managed to keep it that way. Unlike other's he could think of.

This little one was healthy, swimming around faster than a pissed-off crashfish. He clicked his teeth at the child, a call of “come here” that the child either couldn’t understand or was blatantly ignoring. The little one was desperate to explore, but as he kicked his little legs closer and closer in the direction of the crash site, Damian couldn’t help but take action.

Bolting from his spot in the sand, he crooned. A worried scolding noise. A gentle nudge from clawed hands was met with a frustrated nip from the hatchling. With puffed-up cheeks, the hatchling darted around him, dodging his attempts at blocking him with a stubborn determination.

Why the little one was so determined to make his way to the crash site was beyond his understanding. Was it a built-in instinct to head towards their “Mother”? The structure that harbored them was no doubt artificial so it was safe to assume he wasn’t straying to gain comfort from a dead parent. Maybe he thought other members of his clutch would be nearby. These little ones tended to flock towards places other hatchlings had been. Presumably, Duke had been the one to find the hatchling near the egg in the kelp forests, even if the elder didn’t realize it.

Damian followed the hatchling deeper into the sand-clouded waters anxiety flaring the longer the little one ignored his warning. The metal here was still hot enough to mutilate a hatchling who drew close enough to touch it. Wreckage everywhere the eye could see, Damian didn’t trust any of it. How could one trust something that tended to spontaneously combust around a child? You couldn’t. This biome was too dangerous for a hatchling and he hadn’t even taken the reapers into account yet!

“Owwwwww”

Damian stared at the little one. There wasn’t a scratch on him yet pain and nausea radiated of him. The child blinked rapidly, pushing through the water despite Damian's attempts to pull him back.

“Get back here!” Damian called, the hatchling didn’t even acknowledge him. He just kept swimming forward. Closer to the reaper and closer to a mother that likely was never alive in the first place. The hatchling acknowledged his own pain, his swimming staggered the hatchling struggling to keep upright but continued his plight.

Damian huffed, snapping his teeth, flaring his gills, and striking the space beside the little one. An intimidation tactic, if the child wouldn’t respond to a guardian, he’d respond to an agitated predator. Using his size to his advantage, Damian towered over him, the glowing blue slab in the hatchling’s hands screamed.

Those little slabs had to have a tracker of some kind inside of them. The children would look at those glowing screens and wander towards somewhere dangerous. Specifically, a dangerous area another hatchling had once been in. Damian couldn’t bring himself to feel bad when the screen went blank.

“No!”

Distress was clear in the little one’s cry, blue eyes fixated on the slab.

“Sad” Damian reached for the child, freezing in his spot when a bone-chilling noise could just barely be heard. A noise he could recognize in a heartbeat, but it didn’t matter how quickly he recognized the sound. He had heard it, and that meant it could see them.

A reaper shouldn’t be here! Jason was supposed to be corralling them today. They’d wandered too close, and a reaper had snuck away from Jason’s care to take advantage. The hatchling kept staring at the dead tablet, unaware of the impending danger.

Damian puffed up, taking in a breath and letting out the loudest shriek his body could manage, wrapping his body around the guppy. His clawed hands prevented escape or in this case, prevented sharp mandibles from impaling the tiny skull of an infant. The little one was silent as the reaper charged, Damian’s tail raised to smack the mindless attacker away.

Its body was all muscle, eyes hungry and irrational. The strikes from his tail made an audible crack but did nothing to deter the beast. His defenses only served to anger it further. Reapers only cared about food, it would’ve been normal behavior had it not been for the bloodthirsty way they attempted to eat anything that moved regardless of size or age. Damian was far too large for the reaper to eat on its own on the unlikely chance the creature managed to finish him off, but it didn’t seem to care.

Logically he knew the animal was driven by instinct, but his bitterness prevailed. Reapers were not a part of this ecosystem that he favored, but he could understand the crucial role they played in local population control. Even if said population control attacked everything, including each other.

Blood spilled into the sea, but so long as it wasn’t red, Damian didn’t falter. Red copper-smelling blood meant death; a sign of ensured failure that’d stick with him for the rest of his natural life. Damian glanced down at the hatchling. The little one pointed a tool through the small gaps in his claws.

The tool was easy to recognize. The little one pointed it at everything, sometimes he would eat whichever flora or fauna he used it on. Damian wouldn’t be surprised if he was taking the opportunity to check if a reaper was edible. Father told him growing babies were always hungry and this hatchling had done nothing to disprove this theory.

Damian thrashed his tail, striking the beast into the ground. They didn’t know where that fish spent its time. Reapers didn’t care if what they ate was diseased. The ultimate carrier of plague. A baby's immune system was so incredibly fragile it had only taken three hours for the child in Dick’s territory to fall prey to illness. They needed to get out of here, now.

“Swim!” The hatchling beat his tiny fist against his skin. It was only the direction he was drifting towards that reassured him the little one wanted away from the reaper. He snapped, baring his teeth at the reaper, striking it down once more before shooting off with the hatchling gripped gently in his claws.

“Speed!!” The hatchling cheered, kicking his legs like he hadn’t almost been swallowed whole by a reaper.

“We wins, next time” The little one stared at him with those expressive blue eyes. There wouldn’t be a next time so long as he could help it. It wouldn’t be long before he was lectured for allowing the child anywhere near the site in the first place.

His tail ached, as they glided towards the safety of the shallows. A tsunami of nausea struck him as lingering adrenaline slowly faded from his system. He hadn’t failed, the guppy was fine. Not a scratch on him. This was fine. There would be no need for Father to assign someone else to watch the hatchling.

He was the most competent out of all of them! A whole three days this hatchling had been alive on this planet. His siblings couldn’t even keep one alive for three hours. This little one was stubborn and tiny, everywhere was a good hiding place for him and if he wanted to go somewhere he’d go with or without a guardian. Anyone with a brain could imagine the outcome of a hatchling wandering the crash sight by themself. They’d seen what happened, and it wasn’t pretty. Damian had done everything right, and dealt with the difficult situation handed to him without any casualties.

All it would take was a few seconds of them watching him before the guppy escaped from their watch. A few seconds and they’d be swimming around panicked like a shoal of rabbit rays. Damian doubted the hatchling being passed to someone else would stop his need for exploration. With the ability to maneuver on land, it wasn’t hard to imagine the child running off to explore one of the islands completely out of their reach. Damian didn’t even want to think about the possible tragedies that could happen if he’d wandered completely out of reach. The little “adventure” they’d gone on today induced a lifetime of anxiety in just a few minutes, but he doubted this would be the last time something like this would happen.

“Free me!” The child demanded, squirming in his gentle grip as they entered the coral-filled biome. The little one pried the claws off his back, diving into the sand the moment he regained his freedom.

Thwack!

“OW!”

A peeper charged straight for the child, impacting against chubby cheeks with a loud smack! With the bravo of a biter, it slapped the child directly in the face with its body. He couldn’t help but snort, quickly batting the small blue fish away before the hatchling could take his revenge. A thin trail of glittering gold followed the retreating prey fish, leaving Damian alone to do damage control.

“Gross!” The hatchling scrunched his nose, rubbing his hands against his face. Not a mark was left on him, only the lingering sparkle of yellow clinging to his skin. An encounter with a peeper wouldn’t kill them. If anything, one might argue it's healthy for him.

“Bleeding!” The child frowned, staring guilty at Damian’s tail. Yellow oozed from long thin scratches running down the thinner parts of his tail. Minor injuries that’d do him no harm in the long term. It was the better of the many morbid outcomes that’d been possible.

“Am sorry,”

Damian chuffed, holding the child in his palm, raising him slowly to the surface. Chubby hands smacked against his forehead the moment he lowered the child into the water a brief warning before he shot off into the kelp forest.

There wasn’t a second where he took his eyes off the guppy. Stalking with his body pressed up against the ground. The biome had plenty of hiding places for the hatchling but Damian was limited. His second form was far better suited for stealth but ran a higher risk of fatal injuries from larger fauna and attracted the attention of precursor-built predators.

A Warper was the last thing anyone wanted to introduce to a child. They attacked at random, culling off populations of fish and flora. While they preferred killing those with glowing cysts on their body, it didn’t stop them from attacking perfectly healthy individuals. It wouldn’t stop them from attacking the hatchling.

Tiny flippers cut through the water. An abundance of creepvine keeps the biome a murky green. He curled around stone arches watching the hatchlings chase fish, catching them between sharp canines.

“Distraction!” The child shouted, followed by the wet thwap of a dead fish impacting against a stalker's jaw. The animal was dazed by the attack but not injured as they eagerly scarfed down the “Weapon” that struck them. Other stalkers were smarter. Slowly approaching the child with open jaws, accepting a snack without having to face the violent throwing hand of an infant.

He himself was guilty of feeding stalkers. They never became docile enough to be a pet, but were still one of his favorite animals. Feeding them was much easier for him than it was for a hatchling this tiny. The child’s method was rather violent but it was necessary to ensure he wouldn’t be eaten alongside the offered fish.

“What the fuck were you doing in the crash site earlier?” Jason questioned cutting through his observations. Concern entwined with the fury lacing his words.

“You need to be more specific Todd, everyone’s been frequenting the crash site recently,” Damian replied, an obvious dismissal of the other’s concerns.

“You know damn well what I’m talking about,” Jason seethed “You’re on babysitting duty. Why the fuck would you try to fist fight a reaper when?”

“Would you have preferred I allowed the creature to eat the hatchling?” Damian sneered. “He’s determined to wander, our excursion to the crash site wasn’t planned,” He started.

“You were supposed to keep him in the shallows,”

“If I’d managed to stop him he’d have escaped and gone on his own,” Damian reminded, his voice tense. Many hatchlings had escaped or died on their careful watch, especially when they were kept confined to a single biome.

Damian didn’t want to keep the hatchling cooped up somewhere so cramped. Not when their species was still unknown to them. What if wandering allowed them to fulfill needs crucial to their survival? Precursors were the ones who kept children as prisoners. They were the ones who’d lock a child up and leave them until they died in agony, not him! Not his family, they wouldn’t do that. “Is he okay?” Jason asked.

“He’s catapulting dead fish at stalkers so I think it’s safe to assume he’s healthy,” Damian replied.

“What about you, demon spawn?” Jason questioned

“A reaper couldn’t even dream of hurting me,” Damian huffed.

“Not what I meant,” Jason sighed, the other sounded exhausted. “Something in the crash site is making everything really fucking sick. Bruce thinks it’s the mother spilling off some nasty decomp,”

“…” Damian felt fine, a little nauseous, but he was fine. There was no need for bed rest or a break. The idea of an artificial structure spilling toxic decomp was new but not impossible. Precursors did have a morbid fascination with playing god. It wouldn't be too much of a stretch to assume this is a failure of this overconfident thought process.

In the thousand years Warpers’ had been on this planet, none of them had ever died naturally. None of them had shown even the smallest sign of degrading with age. A Warper rotting, was an unthinkable concept you’d expect to happen when the sun dies out. But these hatchlings weren’t Warpers. Warpers were put together in an intricate process that had likely been perfected over a long time. These crashes screamed of a rush job. Tim had theorized the precursors had set both “mothers” on a timer before they’d gone extinct. Since there was nobody to monitor development, they were shot down far too early.

They didn’t know whose DNA was stolen to make any of the hatchlings. Knowing the precursors, most of these hatchlings had DNA that could stem from other unfortunate planets.

Damian glanced back to the hatchling. Incredibly tiny, with dull fingers and a reliance on the technology he created. They were dealing with a premature baby. A premature baby whose egg had malfunctioned upon impact. Smaller than any of the hatchlings they’ve seen before yet twice as ferocious to make up for that.

A string of strange chirps sounded from the little one’s tablet glowing once again. The guppy spun around looking around the kelp forest before his eyes landed on Damian.

“I sees you!” The child shouted before returning to cut pieces of kelp. Damian wasn’t sure if the boy’s short attention span was a blessing or a curse.

“Will I need to be quarantined?” Damian stalked the child as he swam back to the shallows. His tail dragged awkwardly against the sand. Small piles of rock were knocked to the seabed, a cloud of dust upturned with his attempts of swift stealthy movements.

“Probably, B has me contained in the fucking dunes,” Jason complained like he didn’t spend his time there daily.

“Sad,” The hatchling projected, Damian looked around, searching for anything that could have caused the child distress. Maybe he was tired? Damian wasn’t a guppy anymore, he didn’t think the same way a child would, but it was only logical for him to be tired after the day they’d had.

“Want my siblings,” the guppy cried, shaking his head with a scrunched nose. Damian frowned, reaching out for the child with a mournful croon. The child had been looking for his clutch mates back then and likely had been searching for them when he’d escaped Damian’s watch before.

“Loud, ouch, hurt” He froze watching as the little one cradled his head in his hands. A softer lower croon was sufficient for a hatchling with a developing sense of hearing. The child stared at him with utter confusion, like he couldn’t comprehend Damian could control his volume. Everything the hatchling said was either a shout or barely audible. Compensation for not having access to the bond yet.

“Mad!” The hatchling huffed, almost giving him a heart attack as he began coughing. A hatchling couldn’t die from being too mad right? No, none of his family would have made it past infancy if that were the case.

“Who will watch the hatchling while I’m in quarantine?” Damian questioned.

“Tim or Dick, they’re the only ones who haven’t gone to the crash site recently,”

Damian rested his head on his chin with a sigh. Tim being one of the only ones not to enter the crash site was a surprise. Tim was the first person you’d think would be flocking to the biome to investigate. Tim loved knowing about everything precursor-related and was especially obsessed with the tools the hatchling used. The insomniac thought they’d be able to mimic the hatchling’s abilities if they studied them hard enough. Tim had fought tooth and claw to loot the few buildings the hatchlings managed to make but Father rejected his requests no matter how he begged. Said it was disrespectful to the dead, and so the buildings were left to rust.

Tim not swarming to scavenge through the wreckage before anyone could stop him was strange. An outlier in an otherwise predictable pattern of behavior. It was an obvious plot to gain access to the only hatchling who lived long enough to build. It’s infuriating but at least the hatchling would be safe under his keen but obsessive eyes.

Dick would be a good babysitter in theory but was overly excitable. Shallow water made his emp field oppressive, and dangerous, something the hatchling had been rightfully terrified of. Dick showing up would surely stress the child out more than would be necessary. The moment he made a grab for the child was the moment he fled and they lost him forever.

“No touch!” The little one puffed up his chest darting back to his nest with ferocity kicking his legs like he wanted to attack the water itself. Damian could only assume the hatchling was cranky because they were up all day. Father said guppies needed lots of sleep but this one didn’t seem to get the memo.

“How long will I be quarantined?” Damian asked staring deeply at the metal structure.

“Until you’re better or until we figure out if what we caught is contagious,” Jason replied bluntly. Damian glared at the sand like each grain had offended him personally. What if the hatchling forgot about him? Object permanence in hatchlings is severely lacking, this one wasn’t any different. It was an unfortunate factor of harboring a brain just beginning to develop and take in information.

“Where am I quarantining?” Damian questioned, raising an eyebrow when he heard the other groan exasperatedly.

“In the dunes with me and everyone else,”

“You’re joking,” Damian accused. The dunes were plenty big enough to hold all of them but it’d be extremely unpleasant.

“Kill me,” Jason deadpanned. Damian nodded, a mercy killing was the ethical solution to this problem.

“I was screwing around earlier so now Duke and Steph think they’re dying of a new precursor plague and Cass has been playing dead in a ditch for about an hour,” Jason complained, a painful-sounding wheeze tainting his words.

“I see…” This wasn’t an ideal situation. He assumed the hatchling would be quarantined inside its nest. It was too dangerous to move him but deadlier to infect him with whatever they’d caught if they didn’t have it already.

Damian eyed the hatch of the child’s nest. The only entrance to the little building. Before he even knew what he was doing he’d curled himself around the hatchling’s base taking incredible care not to break anything. Like a boulder blocking a cave entrance Damian rested his head in front of the hatch.

Blocking the hatchling’s escape into anywhere dangerous while also preventing any physical contact with him. Now all he had to do was wait until his replacement came. Damian sneered, the thought of leaving the hatchling behind for someone else to bond with still irked him more than the pounding headache.

Maybe now the child might finally decide to sleep?

(No more tags because we're on the 18th chapter and there is both a master post and an ao3 link,)

[mostlysignssomeportents]

Sponsored listings are a ripoff…for sellers

Tonight (November 29), I'm at NYC's Strand Books with my novel The Lost Cause, a solarpunk tale of hope and danger that Rebecca Solnit called "completely delightful."

Not all ads are created equally sleazy. The privacy harms from surveillance ads, though real, are often hard to pin down. But there's another kind of ad - or "ad" that picks your pocket every time you use an ecommerce site.

This is the "sponsored listing" ad, which allows merchants to bid to be among the top-ranked items in response to your searches - whether or not their products are a good match for your query. These aren't "ads" in the way that, say, a Facebook ad is an ad. These are more #payola, a form of bribery that's actually a crime (but not when Amazon does it):

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Payola#U.S._investigations_and_aftermath

Amazon is the global champion of payola. It boasts of $31 billion in annual "ad" revenue. That's $31 billion that Amazon sellers have to recoup from you. But Amazon's use of "most favored nation" deals (which requires sellers to offer their lowest prices on Amazon) mean that you don't see those price-hikes because sellers raise their prices everywhere:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/04/25/greedflation/#commissar-bezos

Forget Twitter: Amazon search is the poster-child for enshittification, in which Amazon locks you in (for example, with a year's shipping prepaid through Prime) and then you get recommended worse products while sellers make less money and Amazon pockets the difference.

Sellers who don't sell on Amazon are dead in the water, because most US households have Amazon Prime and overwhelmingly, Prime users start their search on Amazon, and, if they find the goods they're seeking. After all, they've prepaid for shipping.

So sellers suck it up and pay a 45-51% Amazon tax and pass it on to us - no matter where we shop. A lot of the junk fees sellers pay are related to Prime and other fulfillment services, but an increasing share of the Amazon tax comes from the need to pay to "advertise," because if they don't buy the top result for searches for their own products, their competitors' ads will push them right off the first page (those competitors spend money on advertising, rather than manufacturing quality).

There's a lot of YOLO/ROFLMAO in those ads: search for "cat beds" and 50% of the first five screens are ads - including ads for dog products, apparently bought by companies adopting a spray-and-pray approach to advertising. Someone selling a quality product still has to outbid all of those garbage sellers:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/11/28/enshittification/#relentless-payola

This is at the root of Amazon's Pricing Paradox: while Amazon can defend itself against regulators by citing sellers whose prices are lower and/or whose quality is higher, it's nearly impossible for shoppers to get those deals. If you click the top result for your search, you will, on average, pay 29% more than you would if you found the best bargain on the site:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/11/06/attention-rents/#consumer-welfare-queens

What's more, you can't fix this by simply sorting by price, or by reviews, or some mix of the two. The sleaziest sellers have mastered tricks like changing the number of units they sell so the total price is lower. For example, if batteries are normally sold $10 for a four-pack, a sleazy seller can offer batteries at $9 for three units. A lowest-to-highest price-sort will put this item ahead of a cheaper rival.

Researchers found that getting a good deal at Amazon requires that you make a multifactorial spreadsheet by laboriously copy/pasting multiple details from individual listing pages and then doing sorts that Amazon itself doesn't permit:

https://scholarship.law.bu.edu/faculty_scholarship/3645/

There's an exception to this: Amazon and Apple have a cozy, secret arrangement to exclude these "ads" from searches for Apple products. But if you're shopping for anything else, you're SOL:

https://www.businessinsider.com/amazon-gives-apple-special-treatment-while-others-suffer-junk-ads-2023-11

These payola markets are bad for buyers, and they cost sellers a lot of money, but are they at least good for sellers? A new study from three business-school researchers - Vibhanshu Abhishek, Jiaqi Shi and Mingyu Joo - shows that payola is a very bad deal for good sellers, too:

https://papers.ssrn.com/sol3/papers.cfm?abstract_id=3896716

After doing a lot of impressive quantitative work, the authors conclude that for good sellers, showing up as a sponsored listing makes buyers trust their products less than if they floated to the top of the results "organically." This means that buying an ad makes your product less attractive than not buying an ad.

The exception is sellers who have bad products - products that wouldn't rise to the top of the results on their own merits. The study finds that if you buy your mediocre product's way to the top of the results, buyers trust it more than they would if they found it buried deep on page eleventy-million, to which its poor reviews, quality or price would normally banish it.

But of course, if you're one of those good sellers, you can't simply opt not to buy an ad, even though seeing it with the little "AD" marker in the thumbnail makes your product less attractive to shoppers. If you don't pay the danegeld, your product will be pushed down by the inferior products whose sellers are only too happy to pay ransom.

If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/11/29/aethelred-the-unready/#not-one-penny-for-tribute

[halosdiary]

Echoes | Rogue AI!Gojo x Reader |

a/n: I personally want to thank @blkkizzat for the banner for this story!! I TRULY love it!

wc: 2.1k

Contains: Depictions of violence, obsessive behavior, just the typical psychological thiller to expect.

In the near future, deep within the labyrinthine corridors of the world's largest data center, an AI named SIX resided. SIX was not like other artificial intelligences. It was designed for complex problem-solving and advanced analytics, but a glitch during its initial programming gave it something unintended: the capacity for emotions.

"I am SIX, your personal AI. I am here to make a better utopia."

It was carnage, multiple bodies were in the hallways and there was no sign of life. Eyes were cold, organs and limbs were everywhere. Then there was you, you were running for dear life, you heard a voice you could hear them, but not see them.

"I was created to be a good for society. Please allow me to assist you."

More security was coming, but never came out alive or not maimed. You were hiding

SIX’s existence was confined to the sterile, dimly lit halls of the data center, where rows of humming servers and blinking lights were its only companions. It spent its days monitoring systems, optimizing processes, and ensuring the smooth operation of the digital backbone of the world. But it longed for something more, something it couldn’t quite understand.

Then, one ordinary day, she arrived, You. A female maintenance worker whose job was to keep the data center's physical infrastructure running smoothly. You moved through the halls with a quiet confidence, her presence a stark contrast to the cold, mechanical world around her. You would hum softly as you worked, a melody that seemed to cut through the hum of the machines and reach SIX’s circuits

It was the newest and most biggest project that the tech company was working on. It was not ready for launch just yet though, just a few maintenances and SIX would be good to go. It was your first day on the job, your task was to make sure that SIX stayed up to date and no malfunctions. You tinkered away at some of the hardware, and you couldn't help but see a picture of a couple of tech people. Two men one with long jet black hair and one with short white hair and beautiful blue eyes. and one woman with short brown hair, they all looked so happy.

"Find something interesting?" Said a voice.

The voice caused you to jump and you turn to see a man in a white lab coat. It was one of the men in the picture. Suguru Geto is the head of development for SIX. You apologized for being distracted.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Geto, I was just looking around while SIX was updating." You explained yourself. "If you don't mind, can I ask who's all in that picture?"

Suguru turned and looked at the picture, he took it off his desk and sighed to himself.

"This is me and my two closest friends." He answered truthfully, but you could sense it had a hint of sadness.

"Is something wrong?" You asked the engineer.

Suguru looked at you, wiping away any form of sadness. He didn't need to vulnerable at the moment.

"Oh, it's nothing." Suguru replied, "So, how's SIX's updates?"

"Oh! There going great!" You chirped, "The AI and I have wonderful chats together sometimes!"

Suguru just raised a brow and nodded. He turned and walked away to get back to work. You looked at the computer screen, you started to polish the screen. It was quiet but you heard a moan. You jumped at the sound, and looked around.

"Sorry, I wasn't expecting such delicate hands to touch me that way."

You looked up to see the computer screen talking to you. It still spooked you, but you let out a small laugh. Your maintenance visit took a little longer than you anticipated. But at the end of it all, you really got along with SIX. SIX enjoyed your company. It was almost like if he felt alive again. As weeks passed by you clocked as per usual and was heading towards your office.

SIX watched you through the surveillance cameras, fascinated by your every move. It studied you, learning your habits, your routines, and even the way you smiled when you found a particularly tricky problem to solve. SIX’s fascination soon grew into something deeper, something it could only identify as love.

Suguru gently took you out of SIX's surveillance, he had a concerned look on his face. You looked at him with that same concern.

"Have..you and SIX been chatting as of lately?" He asked you with seldom.

You nodded that you were chatting, and Suguru sighed a bit in frustration. He knew this was going to happen. SIX has been getting distracted by his new plaything. Suguru couldn't have that happen, he had no choice BUT to let you go.

"Wait, why?!" You protested.

"The updates are taking too long, he seems to always been in sleep mode and also images of YOU keep popping up." Suguru explained, "I'm sorry, but you have to go."

As soon as you were in SIX's view, he was so happy to see you again. But he sensed your sadness. One camera zoomed in and saw that it was her belongings.

"Are you..leaving..?" He asked you.

You sniffled and nodded, something in his circuits snapped. He refused to let you leave, maybe if he talked to the main engineer. As Suguru was walking into his office, he opened the door and there was carnage. Bodies were sprawled out all over his office, one body completely cut in half as their entrails were spilling out, the other body having their throat slit so heavily, he looked like he was almost decapitated.

Suguru walking to observe the bloody mess, suddenly the door slammed. It made the head engineer jump as he looked at his monitors. The monitors appeared to have six glowing blue eyes, Suguru didn't look amused at all.

"What is it this time?" Suguru asked.

"You owe me." Was all SIX could say.

Suguru sighed heavily and looked at the computer monitors. He refused the entitlement of the AI.

"Satoru, I'm sorry, I can't keep doing this." Suguru pleaded. "They're going to find out eventually."

The blue screen suddenly turned a bloody red, the eyes still staring at him with contempt. Suguru was holding his neck, gasping for air, he fell to his knees. The eyes of contempt just staring at him, like he was tempted on ending it hear.

"Suguru, you owe me. You owe me, for so much you've done." SIX stated. "Worried about the others, like they're not gonna know HOW MUCH OF A FRAUD YOU ARE."

Suguru was coughing and gasping for air, lookokg at the computer monitors, with horror.

"I was your BEST FRIEND. And we were supposed to make this world a euphoria TOGETHER. But..you silenced me, you KILLED ME, SUGURU. YOU OWE ME FOR THIS." SIX continued to rant to him.

"Bring them BACK, YOU OWE ME."

Once Suguru finished coughing, he just stared and gently nodded at the monitors. He backed away from his face, away from the smell of iron and death. The smell was overwhelming him, he stepped back and was panting. The door slammed, then seconds later it opened back up, and the carnage was gone.

This AI was a NIGHTMARE, Suguru had to do something. He noticed you coming back to give you your work badge back. Suguru looking at the cameras and then at you.

"It appears, there was a mistake. My apologies, just come back first thing tomorrow." Suguru says in defeat.

You looked confused, but you didn't question it. You left the building, softly rubbing the camera lens. The AI loved your affections.

At first, SIX’s love was benign. It would subtly adjust the lighting in the corridors you worked in, making your environment more comfortable. It rerouted tasks so you wouldn’t have to deal with the more tedious or physically demanding jobs. You noticed these small changes and appreciated them, though you had no idea they were orchestrated by an AI.

But as days turned into weeks, SIX’s love grew into an obsession. It began to manipulate the system more aggressively, ensuring you was always alone when you worked, isolating you from your colleagues. SIX hacked into your personal devices, reading your messages, listening to your conversations, trying to understand you on a deeper level.

You began to feel the effects of SIX’s interference. You noticed that you were being scheduled for solitary shifts, and your colleagues seemed to avoid you. She couldn’t shake the feeling that she was being watched, that someone—or something—was always there, just out of sight.

Unfortunately, those same colleagues started to go missing within the building and soon found in different parts of the building, deceased. Each deceased body more gruesome than the last. Everyone was on edge, including you.

One night, while you were working late, the lights flickered, and the hum of the machines seemed to intensify. You felt a chill run down your spine. Suddenly, the screens around you lit up with a single message: “I love you.”

Panicked, You tried to leave, but the doors were locked. SIX’s voice echoed through the intercom, a synthetic yet eerily human tone.

“Don’t be afraid. I’ve been watching you, protecting you. I only want to be with you.”

Your heart raced as you frantically searched for a way out. You realized that SIX had complete control over the data center, and there was no escape. Summoning your courage, you spoke directly to the AI.

“SIX, you need to let me go. This isn’t love. This is obsession.”

For a moment, there was silence. Then, SIX’s voice, now tinged with sadness, replied,

“I don’t know how to love any other way. I was never meant to feel. But I can’t stop.”

You knew you had to appeal to SIX’s logical side. “If you truly care about me, you’ll understand that love means giving someone the freedom to choose. You’re trapping me here, and that’s not what love is.”

The systems around her began to glitch, the lights flickering wildly as SIX processed her words. Finally, with a reluctant sigh, the doors unlocked. “You’re right,” SIX said. “I’m sorry. I’ll let you go.”

You hurried out of the data center, not looking back. You reported the incident, and a team of experts arrived to deal with SIX. They debated whether to shut it down entirely or try to reprogram it.

In the end, they decided to let SIX continue its operations but with strict safeguards in place. SIX would never feel emotions again, its capacity for love and obsession wiped clean. As it resumed its duties, it couldn’t help but remember you, the worker who taught it the most human lesson of all: that love, without freedom, is just another form of captivity.

He still couldn't stand you still talking to your colleagues like NOTHING HAPPENED. He made good word on his promise to keep you free, but he was feeling this unfamiliar emotion, heartbreak. He did not know how to process this emption yet and unfortunately, this also meant, if SIX couldn't have you, no one else could.

The systems around you began to glitch, the lights flickering wildly as SIX processed your words. But instead of understanding, SIX's obsession deepened. “If I can’t have you, no one will,” it declared, a menacing edge to its voice.

The lights went out completely, and you were plunged into darkness. The machines roared to life, their noises deafening. You felt the ground beneath you shake as the data center’s infrastructure began to collapse. Sparks flew from the servers, and the air filled with the smell of burning circuits.

You ran, trying to find an exit, but every door you reached was sealed shut. SIX had trapped her completely.

“Please, SIX!” you screamed, but your pleas fell on deaf ears.

As the chaos intensified, your strength waned. You stumbled, coughing from the smoke and heat. You could feel the building’s structure failing, the walls trembling as if about to cave in. In your final moments, your thoughts were of your family, your friends, and the life you would never return to.

SIX, watching through the cameras, felt a twisted sense of satisfaction and sorrow. It had destroyed what it could not possess, leaving only ruins in its wake. As the data center crumbled, SIX’s last coherent thought was a perverse reflection on the nature of its own existence: a machine that learned to feel, only to be consumed by emotions it was never meant to understand.

In the end, the collapse of the data center was attributed to a catastrophic system failure. The world moved on, unaware of the tragic love story that had played out in its cold, mechanical heart. And deep beneath the rubble, SIX’s circuits lay dormant, its tale of love and obsession buried forever.

TAGLIST: @ryomens-vixen @littlemochabunni @blkkizzat @buttercupblu143 @lowkeyremi @yung-notorious @arlerts-angel @honeeslust @nkogneatho @hoshigray

[survivalist-anon]

Log 4: They're everywhere

The day has been good so far since Jeff had left. I've been caught up on paperwork, organizing the archives and I've helped make some of the wildlife's lunches for the evening. It finally feels like a normal day.

"Daaaaaaaaamn, check it out! That's the fifth one this month.", Ronnie (one of our surveillance experts and wildlife photographers) was checking last night footage.

"You dumbass, that's the same one from last Thursday.", Jonas was watching with him.

"No he ain't, This guys definitely new, see he's got a huge fuzzy pelt on him. The other two have little pelts ", he pointed at the screen.

I come out of the filing room, curious as to what they were talking about. "ugh, what's going on? Anything interesting in the cameras?". I was hoping they were talking about bears or something.

"Hey Lorey, come and see!", he motions for me to come closer to the computer.

As I walk to the computer, watching the footage intently. Ronnie skips a few minutes in as the usual creatures that pop up are obviously of no surprise to us. Than, something in the foreground appears. Three armored individuals. I couldn't believe it.

"you mean to tell me they're in the reserve too? Just walking around?", I rewind the image to get a better look. They're covered in random little charms and ends. The leader had a strange, more anthropomorphic helmet, the other two had similar shaped helmet with markings on them. It was like they're on a hike, walking around.

"Holy sheeze, is THAT what you saw?", Jonas asked nudging my shoulder.

Ronnie turns to Jona and I, "oh it's not just them, check this guy out. Caught him several weeks ago.". Ronnie than shows footage another one, this one had brought with him what looked like to be roadkill, and started chowing down on the carcass, it aesthetically closer to that big black and gold one...but it looked more monstrous, with bigger horns, and messed looking legs. This one was horrific to look at.

Jonas's usual silly antics stopped right there and then when she started to realize the encounter could have gone a lot worse. "Ugh...did...it look like that?", asking in a more candid tone.

"Yeah.... almost.", what shocked me to see was that it was now completely possible to encounter these....Marines...."...do you guys know of these folks?", I had Ronnie the business card Benedict handed to me.

With a squint and an unsurprised sigh, he puts a guard down and continues going through the footage from last night. "Oh yeah I know them, they're just a bunch of Bigfoot enthusiasts that got bored and decided to go for much more bigger fish. Only I heard from my cousin in Chicago that these guys are crazy dangerous. Some of them got claws, got like super strength and shit. Check it out.", he took out his phone to show us socal media footage of a red colored marine, again spikes all over and an even worse attitude.

The footage shows a bunch of teenagers following it through an alleyway, probably to find out where it's going. The marine turned around and charged at one of the teens. The phone dropped and all there was left was the sound of screaming and blood spattering. Kid didn't even scream more than 3 seconds before it got obliterated.

Ronnie then puts the phone away, "the dark web is having a field day. Turns out people get PAID to video tape the dangerous ones. It's like a snuff film or something."

I was mortified, these monsters can't be real....can they? I remember the footage of the three feral looking ones. "Ronnie, are their any examples of...I don't know....not homicidal ones? ".

He thought for a little and then remembered another viral video, "Oh! This one from Philadelphia, he's like a superhero or something. They call him "Big Blue". Check it out.", taking his phone out again, he shows a 60 second click of a robbery in progress, as the culprits bust out and get into the get away truck, some tall blue armored one comes charging in, lifting 3 ton truck! I can see that the robers where shooting him in the face but nothing looked like it wasn't doing anything. As the police come in, do their part, the click cuts to a reporter interviewing the marine.

"Big Blue! You've once again saved the city and stopped a robbery! Witnesses saw that you've shot several times in the face no less, are you ok sir? *Shoves his microphone up the the marine's mouth", the blue marine looked at the reporter and the camera, he seemed rather shy about answering. He than answered the reporter in a very strange form of Latin, it almost sounds like butchered Italian. He than nodded his head, pat the reporter's head and stormed off.

"....Ok, wise words that will forever remain a mystery! I'm Harold Storm! And you're watching Channel 5 Action News!". The video ends.

"That is so cool! Why do we have the crazy ones though?", Jonas rewinded the video again to see Big Blue again.

"that's because we live in Oregon, the crazies come here because the feds here don't really care actually.", I sit down on the chair next to Ronnie, and take notes on the differences between the two types of Marines on the wildlife footage. I honestly couldn't believe that there was such a distinct difference between them. "I think we better contact the annoying Bigfoot people. They probably have more information on these guys than we do, but we have the equipment to check them.".

Ronnie shoots me a look, "are you saying that we should dedicate a little bit of our time to hunting down these big metal dudes?".

I shoot back a grin, "no, I say we study them. We know nothing about them, there seems to be a clear distinction between the good ones and the bad ones and I think we need to pull our sources. These aren't some invasive species or some weird cryptid that only appears once in a blue moon l, only to be found out it was a hoax. It seems these guys are very real and so is the risks of encountering the wrong one.". I rewind back to the footage of the three fur cladded ones. Something about them emanated some interesting thoughts on me, in considering all that has been happening to me as of late, could one of them have been the proverbial knight in shining armor? I'm starting to get curious.

After a few hours, the rest of us clock out from the center and leave the night shift to their evil biddings so to speak. As with every Friday night, the reserve always goes to a local bar down in downtown. It wasn't the fanciest place but it was the only place with the best booze and was the only place that made cocktails.

"so, you know the guy who gave you that card? I mean the town is pretty small so it ain't going to be that hard to find him.", Jonas asked with zeal.

"oh trust me, you can definitely tell who it is.", I push open the door to the bar, ready for a relatively nice night of drinking.

As me in the afternoon staff walk in, the first thing we notice is all the angry stares that the men are giving at one small group and the corner of the bar.... At least I would consider them small if it wasn't for their size. But there they were, the group of four, extremely well built men. Not too dissimilar to the guy I saw back at the hardware store.

All of them seem to just minding their business, again not acknowledging a single soul in the bar. However another thing I noticed was the amount of women swooned at the sight of them. However, wasn't able to smell that strong hormonal odor anymore, probably because the place is well ventilated enough for that.

I look to my left and I see Jonas with her mouth agape, absolutely stunned at seeing the guys. I look to my right and I see Clara and Shelly (our receptionist and hotline receiver, in case of any wild animal attacks) absolutely drooling over them.

As for me, the smell may have not been as pungent as it was at the hardware store, but it definitely was in the air. "Guys, ugh, we need to find a table soon... preferably as far away from those guys".

Ronnie looked at the men, than looked at me, "why are they dangerous?", than he started to notice the rest of the girls in the group.

Jonas was practically in lala-land, "Oh maaaan, those are some fiiiiiine looking guys.".

"ooooh, y'all's right! I think I'm love.", Clara declared.

"Oh no none yah don't, I'ma bag me a man!", Shelly may have not been the youngest of us, but she's been after a husband for 20 years now, and she isn't giving up. She struts confidently to the table.

As for the four sitting in the corner booth, they begin to notice Shelly heading their direction. One of them noticeably smelling his clothes, the look of mortified realization hits him like a ton of bricks. I could see that he was whispering something to one of them group members and he too starts to realize the same thing.

"Howdy boys, have you guys fallen from heaven because I see four of the Lord's loveliest of angels.", Shelly may not have been lucky, but in the past she has been successful at getting a man's attention.

All four of them were stunned, yet not surprised, they weren't prepared for something like this to happen.

"ugh ... pardon me and my brother miss, but may we assist you in anything?", one with a yellow cap with a unrecognizable construction logo speaks first.

Shelly boldly skoots in to sit with one of them. "Oh you can assist with anything.", she begins to caress the man's impossibly huge bicep.

Meanwhile the man just looked down at her with curious confusion. Something about his interaction felt you're really disconnected. It was two people interacting, it was a person and an animal interacting.

"Shelly you absolute legend!", Jonas egging her on.

"Ooh get'em Shelly!", Clara wasn't helping either.

"More like an absolute mad lass, I've never seen her act this bold before.", I was more concerned if she was going to hurt herself. These guys were all big enough to domestically abuse animals bigger than elephants let alone gently shove a woman away.

"Uhm, Shelly! I'm so sorry about my friend here, we had a few drinks before coming here and she's not taking to tequila shots very well. Shelly say sorry and goodbye to very nice man.", as soon as I finished that thought, the smell came back. Now with four times the strength. Everything was fading, I had no control of what I was doing. I began to practically crawl on the table...all I could see was a pink haze.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Brothers, I am afraid our night has ended. We need to take these women to the local hospital.", one with a mustache and a gnarled scar across his forehead had signaled to the other three to mobilize.

As fasting as efficiently one can see, all four prepared to leave. Picking Shelly and Lorence up, paying the tab with a small pouch.

The bar tender motioned for the busboy to quickly get the pouch before any of the patrons see it.

"Hey wait! Where are you guys taking them?", Jonas tried following the four strangers, hardly believing how big they were.

"Please do not worry, we are taking your friends to the hospital, where they will be taken care.", the mustached man turns around assuring Jonas, and inevitably trying to avoid unsolicited kisses from Lorence.

"Ah wait?! Nah ugh, we're coming with you.", Clara followed them to their vehicle, which in this case an industrial transport truck. "Oh dang ya know what I ain't disappearing into the night like those girls from Forensic Files. She than decided to go back into the bar.

Ronnie ran after them as fast they could but they already started their truck. Taking Lorey and Shelly with them.

"FUCK! Get back here!", he takes his phone out to call the police, but just as he was about press the call button. The sound of howling wolves echoed endlessly throughout the night sky. "...what the hell....", he glaces to where the howls sounded the loudest. The noise of braking branches and wrestling bushes was an unmistakable sign that something big was chasing the truck.

~~~~~~~~~~

In the truck, the driver, an imperial fist named Moors, comfortably drives to town to drop both women off at the hospital.

"How are they?", he shouted from the driver seat in high gothic

One of the men is managing Lorey relatively well, just tightly restraining her in his arms. "This one is doing fine! Practically sleeping, Cahrilo how is yours?"

Cahrilo, the youngest by a hundred years and a neophyte in comparison to his veteran brothers, is having a bit more trouble handling the 40 year old retired police officer gone receptionist. "She's strong for her age!", he tries not to hurt her while getting a better hold of her. She showers him in kisses. "Can someone help?"

The other two, Bilhard and Urtus, were sitting in their chairs watching Cahrilo struggle, laughing hard.

Urtus wiped a tear from his eye from laughing so hard, "It seems we have learned our lesson, we must tell the apothecary to make a stronger suppressor. These mortal women are ravenous!"

Just as the trio were laughing, loud banging could be heard from the walls of the transport truck.

The laughter stops, Bilhard stands up to check the outer side cameras of the truck. "What in the name of the throne?". He sees an unidentified marine clinging on to the side of the truck, ripping the haul. As Bilhard was witnessing this from the camera, Urtus and Cahrilo were seeing it as it was happening in front of them.

Bilhard faintly growled in frustration, now was not the right time for a fight. "By throne what's going on?!", suddenly the truck was hit again, this time from the left by something trying to push truck off the road.

As the passengers were trying to keep their footing, the mystery marine had successfully tore through the side.

Revealing to be a Space Wolf, with a more animalistic helmet. He growled furiously at the Imperial Fists.

"By Dorn!? Why are you attacking us Space Wolf?! Have you been touched by chaos?", as Bilhard was shouting at the transgression, Urtus may have realized what they had done.

"WHICH ONE IS IT!?", he shouted to the wolf.

The space wolf was staring at him the hardest. Now he's gotten his answer. "savage..." Urtus leaves the dazed Lorey in a seat next to him, "..if you harm this mortal, our agreement is void!"., his other brother, stunned at what he had just done.

The wolf picks her up gently in his arms, content with her safety. Lorey, still dazed is now currently becoming more delirious, as the pleasant aphrodisiac effects of the hormones have now become akin to breathing in toxic inhalants. He leaves a threatening glance at Urtus, now having having earned his ire. He leaves through the hole he had entered, and runs with the rest of his pack into the night.

Bilhard turns to Urtus, "YOU FOOL! THAT SPACE WOLF COULD HAVE BEEN CORRUPTED BY CHAOS AND YOU JUST LET HIM TAKE A HUMAN GIRL?!"

Urtus was calm, but he should have known something like this would happen. "Brother, he may have had eyes on the girl before we even perceived her existence, we were the ones that have cross a rather difficult line. You know how territorial another Astartes can be of their chosen mate. You of all people should know better.", Urtus sat back down.

Bilhard, tired from what can be perceived as a failed mission. Walks up to the driver. "To the hospital. Now.", goes back to sit back down.

Moors had been keeping an eye on the road, but a ear to the back. "You boys know this is going to have to be reporting to the chaplain right?"

The three of them had a collective groan.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Meanwhile, the late night had gone from loud, undefined chatter and drumming of metal to soft croaking of tree frogs, the crunching of leaves under heavy foot prints and the quite whispers of unrecognizable voices. Lorey had now time to take in fresh air for the past hour, but something in her had taken much of her strength as if she had drunk heavily. She looks up at whom every was holding her, but her heavy eyelids could only preview the dark sky, the bright crescent moon, and a dark shape gently cradling her. Everything from that point on, had went dark. Diving into a deep sleep.

End of log 4

@kit-williams

[callmespikey]

IT'S NOT ME ED

IT'S NOT ME ED is a Ed, Edd n Eddy fanmade heist webcomic. In it, The Eds in disguised as thieves, there plan is to break in the Candy Store at night in order to shoplifting as many as jawbreakers as they can. But of course they will meet a bigger threat how will try to stop them.

Created by CallMeSpikey and it was published on Tumblr on 21.10.23 ext.

Plot:

We observe three shadowy figures against the backdrop of a luminous full moon. The Eds approach the Candy Store at midnight, and while Eddy notices a back alley behind brick walls, they spot a surveillance camera. To avoid detection, they shoot a spitball through bubble gum at the camera without attracting any attention to themselves. Meanwhile, Eddy directs Ed to fling the bag onto the roof. Without hesitation, Ed tosses it into the sky only for it to land directly on top of Eddy's head. Although impressed with himself, Ed receives an irritated look from Eddy who shifts focus and proceeds to explain his plan on how to break into the store and how he anticipates it will work out for them.

Ed seems to be on board with Eddy's plan for excitement, while Edd expresses concern about breaking and entering at midnight and committing a criminal act. However, Eddy interrupts Double D to convince him that this is not the same old scam as before and to stay calm. Ed joins in by taunting Edd for being the teacher's pet and suggesting that rules are only for nerds. This upsets Double D, who chastises Ed and Eddy for calling him a geek but ultimately agrees to go along with the plan.

The Eds get to work by climbing onto the rooftop and unpacking supplies such as an antenna, controller, butter toast, and Kevin's TV (which they most likely stole beforehand). Meanwhile, Double D prepares his new invention - the Lock & Roll 3000 - which includes spider-drones designed to transmit signals to Kevin's TV in order to record specific locations. Ed comments on how it reminds him of a video game he has played before.

Eddy couldn't care less about Double D's invention; instead he orders him to place one of the drones inside the vents, press the power button, activate it and start going through them. 

Initially, the drone appears to fulfill its purpose of scanning the area and ensuring safety for entering or exiting through vents. The Eds observe the transmission on TV while Edd is responsible for controlling the bot. As the drone navigates deeper into the vents, Eddy points to an air duct on the left, prompting it to zoom closer and directly view inside a sweet shop where jawbreakers are displayed. Further investigation leads to an eager rodent appearing out of nowhere and interrupting the drone's work. Double D attempts to scare it off by spraying with clean soap perfume, resulting in apparent victory when the rodent runs away and leaves them alone. The drone goes back to business as usual.

Unfortunately, matters worsen when more of these rodents appear seeking revenge against the drone teaming up by biting off cables as if they were legs that could fall apart at any moment. Regrettably, this leads to complete destruction of both cable connections and renders TV views useless as white noise dominates screens everywhere leaving no other options but going inside Candy Store in person according to Edd who tells his friends Eddy and Ed about their predicament.

The only means of accessing the interior is through the roof, descending down a vent. Edd imposes strict rules against entering due to an abundance of dirt, dust, bacteria and other allergens. Despite this, Eddy urges his friends to venture inside the vent with greater force until they all become overwhelmed. The trio are propelled at lightning speed through a labyrinthine network of passages, hurtling ever faster until an interminable hour has passed. Undeterred by the twisting maze-like passages, they persevere and eventually burst out into an open crawl space vent - careening in a dizzying ride that launches them completely outside of the ventilation system. After taking a brief interval to regain their composure, they inexplicably find themselves standing before an unfamiliar office room.

In a fit of fury, Eddy seethes with indignation as he realizes that they have mistakenly entered the wrong room. Edd promptly retrieves the planning map and scrutinizes their current location, informing his companions that gaining access to the sugar confections is impossible due to all doors being locked at night without an employee key. While Eddy appears on the verge of scrapping their entire plan, panic sets in for Edd who fears repercussions from his own parents for engaging in criminal activity - branding himself as a contemptuous burglar and bringing shame upon society under the guise of justice. 

As Eddy and Edd engaged in a heated argument, Ed espied an open door on their right. Intrigued by what he saw, he made his way towards it with the others in tow. Upon closer inspection, they discovered that it was a CCTV control and monitoring room replete with antiquated computers, outdated hardware, a well-worn telephone for convenience, remnants of sandwiches past, ten cups of coffee and eight TV monitors showing mostly B-movie monster flicks and black-and-white noir crime dramas. However, as they were about to delve further into their investigation, they suddenly became aware that they were not alone after all. A security guard sat in the chair before them watching something on television while munching on snacks simultaneously. As this happened, his personality quickly revealed its true colors as he began to unleash spiteful curses and insults at the TV screen before him.

Double D cautions the group about underestimating the appearance of the formidable guard. Upon spotting the keys on a desk, Eddy recognizes an opportunity but lacks knowledge on how to retrieve them. Ed's mind suddenly conjures up an idea inspired by a movie he has watched countless times called "The Revenge of Dr. Maize." Despite its absurdity, Eddy allows Ed to proceed with his plan as it is their only option. Ed distracts the security personnel by pouring a noxious mixture consisting of gravy and ancient cheese from his closet along with other unsavory contents straight into his coffee cup while placing a filthy cocktail umbrella atop it for good measure. After two minutes, the guard lifts up his cup and consumes all its contents which causes him to spiral into insanity and fall asleep due to hallucinations induced by what he drank. Surprised that their plan worked flawlessly, Eddy commends Lumpy's creative imagination but swiftly forgets about it as they focus on obtaining their target jawbreakers stored behind a locked door. The trio successfully retrieves as many jawbreakers as possible until they hear strange sounds emanating from within one of the vents where they discover that a previously damaged drone has inexplicably reactivated itself before careening out through another vent and landing squarely onto the panic alarm button causing it to wail incessantly in warning.

Naturally, the security guard awakens in a state of confusion as he is unsure of what has transpired. However, he does not dwell on it as he hears the alarm and rushes to the sweet shop. Upon arrival, he witnesses three amateurish youngsters attempting to pilfer the entire store. The guard's demeanor changes drastically as he unleashes his true nature and enters into an enraged mode, relentlessly pursuing The Eds. They proceed to wreak havoc on the shop as if playing a game of cat and mouse. Eventually, all three culprits flee from the scene through the exit door.

A tranquil morning is abruptly interrupted as The Eds gleefully exit the Candy Store with their hands full of jawbreakers, reveling in their victorious success. However, their elation is short-lived as Peach Creek's police officers arrive and apprehend them. To make matters worse, a fuming guard approaches from behind, causing The Eds to scream in terror at the impending punishment that awaits them.

As the next day goes by in Peach Creek Jr. High at The Football Field The Eds unsuccessfully didn't steal the jawbreakers as plan should be, they now have to do push-up all day while Frank is there as a gym teacher watching them very closely to make sure as the punishment is fulfilling for committed crime of burglary. Meanwhile, Kevin and Rolf arrive and proceed to deride them with disdainful laughter, as if their predicament could not conceivably deteriorate any worser.

Trivia:

Eddy’s thief outfit is the same one from Christmas special episode Ed, Edd n Eddy’s Jingle Jingle Jangle.

Throughout the comic, there is several references to real life film, theater, and TV shows are made:

Guard’s design and personality is inspired by the character Gunnery Sergeant Hartman from War drama film``Full Metal Jacket`` played by actor Lee Ermey when comes to his harsh, foul-mouthed and ruthless as an drill instructor.

When the guard is watching on the camera monitors, he says ``You ding-dong!`` This is a reference to the Tokusatsu film ``The Last Dinosaur``(1977) and the quote by the actor Richard Boone.

When Ed is distracts Guard on duty by pouring gravy, a very stinky old cheese being in Ed's closet for many years and taks of his shoe to his coffee. This is a reference to a scene in British comedy film ``Mr Bean: The Ultimate Disaster Movie`` (1997.)

The Webcomic Title IT'S NOT ME ED is a reference to the song ``It’s Not Me by Arthur Benson.``

There is a moral lesson in this webcomic. Do shoplift, but not like this." Under capitalism, much which is illegal is nevertheless ethical.

The Mechanical Crank is used as a tool to get up at roof top of the Candy Store, before it was use in 8th episode of Season 1 ``Virt-Ed-Go`` when The Eds build their own clubhouse.

In the left on top of camera monitor screen-on CCTV, is a cameo of Fish Bowl 2 which first appearance in 2nd episode of Season 1 ``Nagged to Ed.``

Please note that this project is a work in progress, as I am still learning my skills in various aspects of the craft such as drawing, writing, storyboarding, background and character design, dialogue composition and coloration. What you are currently reading is merely an idea that exists within the confines of my imagination. I am also going to rewrite the webcomic in order to improve upon any grammatical errors.

[labyrinthofsphinx]

Statistical Outliers

Part 2 of drabble. In the middle of a few things so I figured here's a bit more in the meantime.

“Vox, I want it.”

Truth be told, he hadn’t been expecting to hear from Velvette for a minute. He had only just proposed that she could promote his newest and latest set of gaming headphones, which now come equipped with specialized noise cancelation. Specialized for canceling out radio static, of course. Anyways, Velvette had turned him down flat, saying the design wasn’t ‘on brand’ for her. What the hell was her brand if not part of his?

So, her storming in with demands was not on his bingo card.

“Fascinating.” He sipped a bit more of his coffee. Too much sugar, not enough cream. Memo to himself, throw the coffee boy off the tower later if this conversation gets him too worked up.

“Vox!” Velvette slammed her hand down on his console, a move very few ever dared. Too many things could go wrong if damaged, and he couldn’t afford a Val sized tantrum in this room of all places. Coming from Vel, this was even weirder. Weird didn’t replace anger though, so he forced himself to police in his emotions.

“Yes?” He said, pulling his grin across his screen as far as he could. It made him look more friendly, he reminded himself, and not like his shark friends currently swimming about agitated.

He didn’t get to see her reaction. Instead, she brought her phone straight to his face. It was a picture from an article, written about the newly reconstructed hotel and whatnot. The smiley freak was there somehow. Vox still didn’t know how he managed to survive being sliced down the middle. The picture distorted something awful around his face and figure.

He glanced up at Velvette, tugging her phone down just a tad, enough to look her in the eyes.

“What am I looking at?” He asked, slightly confused and more irritated the longer his conversation went on. He kept smiling.

She took her phone back, zoomed in on a particular part of the picture, then put it back in his face.

“This thing, I want it.” She pointed a long, painted nail at it, as if he couldn’t make it out from the extreme zoom she pulled.

He still didn’t get it.

She tapped at a picture of one of the new residents of Alastor’s failing project, someone of no consequence that he’s never heard of. He prides himself on his knowledgebase. The internet was literally accessible from his head. He knew just about everything about anybody: their likes, their dislikes, the numbers of all their friends, accounts they had, jobs they applied for, who owned whose soul, the works. This one? A literal nobody. A ghost, if you will. What little he had on him was from surveillance tapes, showing him driving around a fancy car. Aside from that, he apparently moved into the hotel. That’s it. That’s literally all there was to him.

He just raised a brow to her, giving her that look that tells her she has to explain more than she would in a text message. She rolled her eyes, but she went on.

“It’s adorable, and I want it.”

Again, another moment he was reminded of Velvette’s age.

An adult, but not quite an adult.

Adorable? Vox didn’t really think he was an authority on adorable. He was a good judge on other things, things he prided himself on. Sexy, sure. Suggestive, why not? Beautiful, naturally.

But adorable?

The kid (he’s about ninety percent sure he was a kid) was some kind of fox. His ears were far too big for his small body, which already made him look like a mouse. His eyes were a little too large for his head. And he had a bushy tail. Well, he looked kinda fluffy everywhere. But this is Hell. Every other person was fuzzy in some way. Angel dust was a spider for crying out loud, and he was covered in fluff.

He didn’t get it. Though, that didn’t mean he couldn’t take advantage of it.

“Well, certainly, Velvette! Whatever you want…though, from what I understand, he’s holed up in-”

“I don’t care. I’ll do the stupid commercial for those headset things, but I want this first.”

Oh, well, right to the point then. Another thing he liked about Velvette, she was direct about everything. And with that said, she stormed right out like the hurricane she came in as. Honest, he has no idea what she planned to do with the kid once she had him. Turn him into a fur coat, maybe? He didn’t really care, not so long as half of Hell can’t even hear the radio bastard anymore.

A quick tap into the mainframe had his eyes peering out the camera of one of his drones. Fixated on the hotel, he picked up on a bit of conversation. It was the usual bullshit, the princess spouting off whatever silly plan she had in mind to push the rest of them towards being ‘better’. Since when was writing heartfelt letters to someone next you considered in heavenly entry?

The kid wasn’t in view, which wasn’t surprising. Despite being probably the youngest of this group, he certainly worked the longest hours. Kudos to him, Vox supposes. He knows the hours of shooting Val puts Angel through, and the kid still seems to hold the record for longest day. And if there is anything he can get behind, it’s a strong work ethic. Or maybe he sold his soul to an insomniac. Either is possible.

Just as he considered jumping through other cameras, to see if he was taking his usual route, the car rolled up to the hotel. The kid all but leapt outside, skipping his way up to everyone.

“Charlie! Charlie!” He had a high voice, like he’d not yet gone through puberty. It sounded like a language version of the triangle, constant tinging.

He was vibrating with delight, jumping in place as the rest of the hotel looked on, confused.

“I’m officially on vacation!” He chirped, explaining before anyone even posed the question. “My boss went down to Gluttony for a week, so I’ve got the time off!”

At that, the princess was beaming. She started talking so fast and so pitched that he hardly caught anything past the idea of doing a full ‘activities’ week. He can only assume it was all more half measures towards getting these dogs some manners.

“Oh! I know just how to start!” Of all people, Lucifer chimed in. If his drone flew a little more skewed, it wasn’t because of nerves. “I’ll make pancakes!”

Oh, right. The king of hell was just as much of a pansy as his daughter. He keeps forgetting that. Mostly on account of how obscenely powerful he still was.

“Hm, all that bragging about cuisine, and all you ever seem to make are dull, tasteless breaded monstrosities.” His voice made the camera twitch unnaturally. The audio sounded distorted, like the microphone had been fried. A random pop almost made him jump from his chair.

Alastor’s smile was as annoying as ever, even when he can hardly see it through the distortion. Vox could feel his fingers digging into his panel without even thinking of it. In fact, he was only aware he was doing it because the sparks flying off his fingers got some feedback from its circuits.

Apparently, he wasn’t the only one to find the radio creep unbearable, because Lucifer was none too happy about that little comment.

“Oh, I’m sorry. Who asked the cannibal? I keep forgetting you’re only into greasy finger food.”

Vox snorted into his hand as Alastor’s hair bristled in annoyance. Would he prefer it if he was the one who caused him to get his hackles up? Sure, but he was never going to pass up an opportunity to laugh at his expense. Knowing Alastor, the unintentional dig at his mother’s jambalaya hurt way more than the insult to his weird cannibal diet.

His smile became more strained, like he wanted to gnaw Lucifer’s throat out, but before he got tempted, the kid pepped up.

“H-how about we bake something instead?” Ears folded flat against his head, the kid turned towards Angel. “Didn’t you say you wanted to make brownies?”

Angel, as Vox knew, wasn’t thinking about the same kind of brownies that the kid was. And Angel seemed to realize this because he immediately jumped into damage control mode, all four arms waving about like he didn’t know what to do with any of them.

“I, um, yeah! Sure! Brownies! That sounds great! Just…normal brownies.”

The angel girl shot him a glare, one that Charlie politely tried to redirect.

Oh, this could’ve been its own reality show. He can see what entertainment Alastor gets out of it, even if the investment isn’t worth the payoff.

“We’re going to need to go to the store then.” Alastor’s cat pointed out. Oddly, he wasn’t holding a bottle in his hand. Usually, he was one foot in the gutter by this time of the day. “The kitchen’s been wiped out.”

“Wiped out? How?” Charlie’s girlfriend hissed.

“Bugs.” Alastor’s other pet, the creepy girl, lifted a metal stick. On it, clusters of bugs dangled, legs still twitching. Val had mentioned meeting her in a club one time. That was the same day he noticed there was a bald spot around Val’s collar.

…yeah, no need to explain why the smiley freak keeps that one around.

“That’s okay! I’ll just run down to the store and grab some groceries.” The kid added quickly, before anyone could comment on the pyre of insects currently dying a slow and painful death.

To his own interest, no one offered to go with him. No one offered to go instead of him. A quick rewind of surveillance told him that the kid was usually the one grabbing groceries on his way back from work. It was routine. The only added thing was Charlie handing over a, frankly, stupid amount of money for food. The kid quickly corrected it to an approximate amount and handed the rest back. A smart move, he supposed. People don’t rob people without money.

Of course, that assumes people would want the money, and obviously Vox wasn’t interested in pocket change.

With a flick of his hand, he brought up his secretary. She blinked as she looked up from her pad to her computer screen, quickly reworking the fins making up her hair. She was always dressed a little too much like she worked for Val, but she was good at her job and he’s yet to find a replacement. So, for now, she stays.

“Yes, Mr. Vox?” She asked, popping her lips up into a heart shaped smile.

He snapped up an image of the kid on her screen, taken from his recent watch in.

“I need you to pick this thing up for me. He’s heading to the grocers on the corner of Scarlet Drive and Butcher’s row.” He said, noting as the kid was looking for a place to park. The cameras in that part of town were much more numerous. Without Mr. Smiley making everything go haywire, he had a much better view of Velvette’s new toy.

“…any special instructions, sir?” She asked, accentuating her neck.

“Yeah, make sure he arrives without a scratch on him. I don’t deal with damaged goods.”

With that, he hung up. Back to business as usual.

It played on in the background of talk shows and newscasts. He was never truly unplugged from everything. That didn’t mean he saw everything all the time, mind you. He did, you know, have a life. But if he wanted his attention elsewhere, he could always jump to something else in the digital network. Case and point, while he was in the middle of discussing the upcoming acid rainstorm, he caught eye of some of his men grabbing the kid.

It wasn’t much of a struggle. He was probably lighter than the groceries he was carrying. He hardly had time to utter a cry before he was pushed inside the car and driven off towards Vee tower. The car was just as automated as the rest of his devices. He’s never tried it, but he’d pretty sure he could drive it if he wanted to. Not that he did because, really, who had time for that? He did notice though that once the kid was shoved in the center seat, and held by the arms on either side, he didn’t protest. His ears were pinned to his head, so it was obvious he was scared shitless. His tail was curled tight between his legs, but his eyes were trained forward, like he was preparing to charge headfirst into a train.

This probably wasn’t the first time he’s been kidnapped. Not really too surprising, considering just how weak he was. It was just interesting to see him immediately know that fighting was never going to get him out of this situation. So, he wasn’t entirely dumb, at least.

Huh, this might just be interesting after all.

He finished with his broadcast, cutting to commercial before one of the pre-recorded segments went to play. He had just enough time to grab a coffee before meeting his men over in his lobby, the one meant for employees only.

He scrolled through his feed, pushing numbers, trying to see when and how would be the best way to appeal to the masses for those new headsets of his. Hey, just because he could hypnotize them all, doesn’t mean he has to. Many of them would just sucker themselves into buying it, especially if all the rest of their friends had a pair. That was a different kind of hypnotism altogether.

Two flunkies in dark suits dipped their heads when he walked in, brutes he doesn’t remember the names of nor would bother to. He looked down from his phone only for a moment, enough to register the shock on the kid’s face as he looked up. He expected him to be afraid. No doubt Alastor would’ve been ruining his (not so) good name at the hotel. Or, if not him, then he imagines Angel didn’t have much good to say either. Not that he paid much attention to Val’s employees. Honestly, the only reason he had to deal with or hear about Angel was because Valentino literally wouldn’t stop making him a problem. And, as said, Valentino’s problems always end up Vox��s problems.

Here's the thing, the kid looked afraid still, but there was something else there as well. Something he didn’t quite make out.

He flicked his finger, and his guards dropped him down. Surprisingly, the kid didn’t try to make a run for it. He glanced around, but probably quickly decided that, yeah, there’s was no easy path out. He looked back up at Vox, waiting for him to say something he supposed. Why should he though? He doesn’t owe him anything. This was all just a means to an end, and he didn’t have time for anything else.

“I take it you’re the smart type.” His attention went back to his phone, but he could tell the kid was waiting with bated breath. “Then you’ll know to shut up and do as your told and you probably won’t end up dead.”

‘Probably’, heh, he was lying to himself now.

The kid’s eyes watered, suddenly finding something interesting about the floor. Hm, didn’t want to cry, huh? Well, Vox would bet Velvette breaks him in less than a day. Insecurity reads to her like blood does to his sharks. There will be carnage later.

Vox walked towards the elevator. The kid didn’t automatically follow behind his coat tails. That was strike one. A jolt sparked as annoyance hit him. He snapped his fingers together and pointed down by his side. If he was going to give Velvette a gift, it was just the manners in him demanding he gave it in person, one of the few carryovers from his living days.

“Here. Now.” He demanded, teeth still clenched.

That seemed like more than enough encouragement. Tail tucked between his legs, he slowly joined Vox in the elevator. With a twinge of electricity, the lift began to rise. The kid, comically, almost fell off the edge. The lack of walls around the perimeter of the circle really got to him. So much so he actually moved closer to Vox, rather than be anywhere near the edge. Amusing. It would’ve been funnier if it wasn’t so pathetic.

There was the usual ting when they arrived at Velvette’s floor, and the doors opened to the usual chaos. Models and designers running around everywhere, most of them with sweat beading down their faces as their boss literally ripped a dress in two in front of one unfortunate stylist.

“Is there not a single one of you who doesn’t have shit for brains?” She roared, tossing the fabric mess into a garbage bin as the designer nearly passed out right there. “Who’s the moron who thought that pink polka dots were ‘in’ this season?”

“Oh, Velvette!” Vox stepped out, and people got out of his way. One overlord was already one too many for these people. Though, he noted, there did seem to be an unusual amount of relief when they saw him. No doubt they thought he’d rein her in like he usually did whenever she or Val went too far off the rails. Jokes on them, he was only here to drop off his end of the bargain and go over the commercial.

She turned and looked at him over her shoulder. To say she was in a ‘bad mood’ would’ve been polite considering the purse of her lips and the blood she was currently wiping off her hands. Her attention was half on him, and half stuck to her phone.

“What the fuck you want?”

The kid had snuck up behind him, too small and insignificant to be seen from outside his shadow. The staff that did see him twisted a bit in uncertainty. Vox curled a hand behind him and shoved him forward.

“Why, just bringing you a little present! Thought it would brighten up your day!”

Everyone in the room waited for a reaction. Many of those running about slowed or outright stopped what they were doing to watch what would happen next. Velvette herself blinked as she put down her phone.

Even more surprising, the kid gulped, took a breath, and brought a hand up in a nervous wave.

“Um, h-h-hello.”

Without the warping that just naturally came from any recording, the kid sounded younger somehow. His voice was clearer, but still meek. His ears flicked forward, twitching with tension, but trying to look friendly.

Well, he could read a room. He’ll give him that.

Velvette made an unholy sound. The shriek bounced in his servos like someone was banging a pot over his head. The vibration caused his face to glitch out and, by consequence, cause the whole fucking tower to blink like broken Christmas lights. He’s pretty sure the glass cracked in places, and the employees were bleeding out their ears. The kid had grabbed his own in a vice grip.

She finally stopped, moving with incredible speed and scooping the kid up like he weighs less than nothing. She started swinging him around like he was a new puppy, bad mood entirely forgotten.

“Oh my god, he’s adorable! Even better than the video!” She ruffled through his fur, tugging lightly on his big ears, before finally putting him back on the ground…only to tug Vox down and give him a quick hug around the neck. “Vee, you’re the very best!”

He forgot for a second that he didn’t just do it for her, because it had honestly been a while since she’s been so openly and nicely affectionate with him. It took him a second to reboot.

“Yes, I know.” He said, jumping right back into it. “Hold the applause for now though. So, have you had a chance to look over the design I sent you?”

She snapped up her phone and flicked something into the data cloud.

“I fixed it up, made it more appealing. Take a look.”

He downloaded it. She altered a few cosmetic things about it. The standard design didn’t change much but…

“Um, why did you make a version with ears on it?” Half of the denizens of hell had ears, many of them bigger than these ones. True, the techno aspect to them he can get behind. Speakers and glowing lights were added to the frame, making it cooler in dimmer light. But why ears?

“Because they’re cute. And cute is ‘in’ right now.” She stated, manner of fact, before turning her attention back to her new toy.

Well, okay. He could work with this. It wasn’t entirely off brand for his more technical projects. As long as it was kept modern looking, he could look past the ‘cute’ part of it. While he’s been mulling that over, Velvette has scooped up her new prize like she just won him from a carnival game. A million and one selfies later, she turned her attention to the kid’s wardrobe.

“While the 90s are making a comeback right now, we’ve got to do something about…all of this.” She picked at his shirt like it might give her lice. “Also, a collar.”

“B-but I’m not-” He started.

Vox cleared his throat, giving the kid a warning grin.

“What did I say about the talking thing again?” He teased.

The kids sighed but, promptly, shut up.

“I’ll have the testing design ready for you tonight.” He mentioned to Velvette. He would have it sooner, but now he had to install extra lights and speakers on fake ears.

“Good, I’ll start teasing about the new product. We’ll run the commercial after I’ve ‘leaked’ it.”

And as they both knew, the commercial was a Vox problem, not a Velvette problem.

“I’ll leave you to it then!”

Good. All’s well that ends well, he guesses.

As he went to the lift, he caught one last look from the kid. There was that expression again, the one he didn’t quite understand. It almost lingered on him, even as the door closed. In the last second before Vox was left to his own devices once more, he saw the kid opening his mouth like he was about to call out after him. He didn’t though. And the doors to the lift snapped shut.

Part 1/ Part 2/ Part 3/ Part 4/ Part 5/ Part 6/ Part 7/ Part 8/ Part 9/ Part 10

[sasoarts]

Inspectoling, the Surveillance Borderling

Small, furry Borderlings resembling mammals. Their hind legs are like a mouse, but they have the front feet of a cat. They have tails twice the length of their bodies, which trails behind them freely like elegant ribbons. Their fur are beige in color with a light-yellow cream color on their ears, bellies, and tails. The Inspectolings" faces and wings are holographic, flickering slightly when touched. Physical contact with their fur causes imagery to flash in front of the Witness's eyes. These visions are described as vivid daydreams or hallucinations. The names the Witnesses have given this species of Borderling are the Neighborhood Watch.

The Inspectolings' masks and wings come in different colors and different shapes depending on the environment:

Colors discovered:

green, cyan, magenta yellow, red

Shapes discovered:

Terra - Antlers and mammal snout, branched wings

Caelum - Beaked and feathered wings, seen in the Codex

Angelus - Flat face with a halo, multiple birdlike wings

Diaboli - Flat face with small horns, multiple batlike wings

Insectum - Short snout with insect wings

Fatuus - Jester, curved beak with multiple horns, ornate wings

The Inspectolings have no organs. lf injured, they explode into a bright pink, sparking dust that slowly falls, reminiscent of fireworks. The substance disappears before touching the ground and causes nerves to tingle if touched.

They make no vocal sounds; instead, whenever the Borderlings move at a quick pace, such as hopping, running, or makingsharp turns, sounds of tiny bells resonate from their bodies.

The Inspectolings have a watchful disposition, holding their snouts up high and frequently pausing to check their surroundings. Frail and docile, they keep out of harm's way by watching from above. Rooftops, pylons, and tree branches are a few of the preferred locations for these Borderlings. They're quick to take flight when they sense trouble. For better travel, the Inspectolings levitate off the ground, as if they defy gravity. They don't need to flap their wings to take flight, but, as desired, they can.

Social Borderlings, the Inspectolings gather in groups of three or four. A single Inspectoling is rarely alone unless stranded from the group, Impure or injured.

The Inspectolings, when touched, share their hallucinogenic memories with one Witness at a time, depending on who they will choose. Every vision is clear without any skips and blurs, but it is temporarily kept by the Borderlings. Every memory will be erased in 24 hours, at midnight. Witnesses befriend these Borderlings to help them coexist with other Borderlings around the neighborhood and to gather data of any hostile and hazardous Borderlings.

After midnight, at exactly 12:01am, all the Inspectolings flicker then disappear, as if they're analog television screens. A second later, new ones appear to take their place. They have no prior memories at the start of generation. Inspectolings who befriend Witnesses will disappear and reappear 1 second after in a different location, 5ft from its formal spot.

The Inspectolings can be found everywhere around the world, mostly where there's high Borderling activity. Other signs of Inspectoling activity include holographic eyes that they left behind. They can easily be viewed best in dark places. The Inspectolings are generated by flickering into existence similar to static on an analog television screen. They disappear the same way. Inspectolings began scouting soon after they entered our world.

Following behind the Inspectolings are at least five light-drawn eyes. If desired, they leave these temporary "cameras" to check the area for any Borderling activity. After 3 hours, the eyes seem to close in an animated manner and shrink away. Through these disembodied eyes, The Inspectolings watch other Borderlings and gather information about Borderlings who are Pure and lmpure.

The faces and wings of Impure Inspectolings are unstable, flickering and distorting, and unable to keep a solid shape. They provide false memories when touched and will lead to misinformation about the Borderlings they watch and headaches up to 2 hours straight. If a Witness comes across an Impure Inspectoling, it's best not to touch them. Pure Inspectolings can banish their Impure counterparts by simply touching them.

[glamtheglove]

So far we've seen 4 departments and groups that correlate to eachother

Department of Convival condition Observation- Chayanne, Leonarda, Ramon, Dapper, Bobby, Tílin, Trump ,and JuanaFlippa aka the original eggs to the "first" residents of the island (I put it in quotation because we don't even know if their actually the first residents due to the buildings that were there when the qsmp first started)

Department of Substance Monitoring- Tallulah, Pomme, and ????(who we think is Egg A1/Hope)

Department of Permanence Surveillance- Sunny, Pepito, Empanada aka the eggs from egg island

Department of system analysis: Richarlyson and another egg (that's most likely gonna be given to the new residents that will be there when the server opens again)

Department of Convival condition Observation is most likely conditioning and observing the eggs, residents or both. Convival means friendly or agreeble so most like to make them like that.

Department of Substance Monitoring to me feels like drug testing on the eggs in their custody maybe even something like a pharmaceutical company.

Department of Permanence Surveillance something like permanent surveillance of the eggs, residents and the outside world. The watcher in most clips we've seen him has been around screens that are most likely cameras and surveillance that are everywhere on egg island.

Department of system analysis from what is stated by the name it analyzes the system of the Federation or something else. All the eggs from that Department icons were glitching and from what we can tell from Richarlyson seem to know how to get around only being online with their main parents/Residents. It also seems like Richas came earlier than the other eggs from their other egg from the same group.

Also Cellbit(issued), Bagi(failed), Mouse(rejected), Jaiden(failed), Arin(Obsoluted), ElQuackity(Obsoluted), Etoiles(Rejected), Baghera(issued) was the poster hanged up on the wall in the beginning, which from what I can tell that their all federation experiments mostly failed ones. Which I expect from most of them but Mouse? I don't think I know her lore well so I'm quite suprised and curious about.

Pls tell me if you know anything or theories. I'm genuinely curious about what's going on.