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edupunkn00b · 19 days

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Meus ex Machina, Chapter 15: From This Day Forth

Edited public domain image of two hands reaching for each other, lit in deep blue and neon green.

Prev - From This Day Forth - Next - Masterpost - [ AO3 ]

Distant history and some time later. Plus, Logan's time with The Muse revealed more than anyone expected.

WC: 2655 - Rated: T - CW: descriptions of treating injuries, the 'comfort' of hurt/comfort

“I do.”

Half-hidden by his wild auburn fringe, Luc’s eyes glowed. Not from his Power, not today. No, today Luc’s eyes glowed from within, the natural deep brown soft and warm and bathing him in love.

Janus smiled back at him, squeezing his fingers. “I know you do.”

Their nerves—and their focus—dissolved in quiet shared laughter until Patton’s pointedly cleared throat brought them back to their vows.

When Janus looked up, Patton smiled and inclined his head, his Illusioned officiant’s robes rustling with the movement. “And you, Janus Gates, do you take Lucas Hart to be your love, your husband, and your light from this day forth?”

Swimming in the gentle depths of Luc’s eyes, Janus nodded. “I do.”

Janus tossed his tablet onto the couch with more force than he’d intended. Luckily, it merely bounced twice and flipped over, deactivating the screen. His relief was short lived, though, and the droning news report made him almost wish it had cracked.

Back straight, he perched on the seat beside it and forced a slow breath, giving his attention to the flow of dry, cool air in his lungs and the—

“Governor Aldi has called in three NatGuard divisions to quell the uprising at Humane Care—”

Patton clicked off the newsfeed. Janus fought to push down the molten lead bubbling up in his stomach but finally it burst out. “When will they ever stop? When we teach them a lesson?”

He smacked the table, the sharp sting doing nothing to calm the fire in his bones. Patton’s hot chocolate rattled against the pair of teacups set on either side of it and the force of his hand shook even the pictures on the wall.

“Now, Kiddo,” Patton inhaled, exaggerating the movement and giving him and Luc a gentle smile. Luc leaned closer, fingertips brushing his sleeve. “Let’s all take a—“

“No! I will not take a breath!” He sounded precisely like Ro in one of his tantrums but he just couldn’t stop. “And I will not calm down and wait for the Powerless running the government to follow the arc of progress or whatever pacifying bullshit—“

“Language!”

“Papa Bear, it’s alright,” Luc said smoothly. The soft purr of the old nickname brought warmth to the elder brother’s cheeks but his expression didn’t change. He picked up his cocoa and watched the newlyweds with his lips drawn into a thin line.

Luc nodded slowly and reached over the coffee table, brushing Patton’s hand, calming him. “Let him get it out.”

“This isn’t simply some phase I will get past!” Janus nearly growled, jerking away from the other two. “We’ve been trying things your way for three years now and look where we are?” Arms flung out at his sides, he looked around their newly finished HQ. “We have to hide away behind a forest laced in tripwire because all the Powerless know how to do is hate us.”

He stood, shaking his head as he stared at the vidscreen, the latest atrocity playing out in full spectrumed splendor. “Maybe it’s time we used our powers for real change and made them stop.”

“Love?” Luc’s eyes were wide and he made no effort to hide the concern roiling through him.

Janus deflated, sinking back down and accepting Luc’s outstretched hand, bare skin intertwined with his own gloved fingers. “I don’t mean…” He gestured vaguely. “There just… there has to be another way.”

“Jan?” Luc’s voice was quiet, barely audible over the whine of the transport’s thrusters as they raced away from the Inn.

Eyes focused on The Muse, unconscious and strapped in his own seat, Janus shook his head.

Luc was completely silent until they’d landed at HQ and he waited until they’d gotten The Muse hooked up to a med bed before addressing Janus again. “Love, there’s nothing you could’ve—”

“ Nothing I could’ve done?” Luc stepped back, the full force of Janus’ rage seeping past his lowered voice. The final threads of his control were fraying and Janus… he wasn’t sure what he might do when they snapped.

Still, Luc reached for him, eyes dimly glowing. “Love, calm down. You didn’t know—”

Janus jerked his hand back, keeping an empty med bed between them. “I didn’t know what? I didn’t know Andrew would betray us? Or I didn’t know you would lead us right into a trap?”

“Wha—” Luc’s mouth moved like a fish and his hand flopped back to his side. “What are you saying?”

Tears swam in his eyes, sparkling in amber light as Luc wrestled his own emotions into control. Or manipulated his own tears. Sour, jagged guilt stabbed Janus’ chest at the thought. Was it his own conscious speaking?

Or Luc’s?

‘Re will be fine, you’ll see. He just needs a little calming, a little extra control.’ Luc had been so sure this outing would work. ‘He’ll have both of us there, both of us to keep him and everyone safe. He deserves a good birthday. He deserves to celebrate a little.’

Janus scrubbed at the blood staining his shirt, his gloves, the man’s final cries echoing in his brain. “What did he offer you?”

“What?” Luc acted like he hadn’t heard him.

Janus stared back, fighting past the buzz of alcohol singing in his veins. Plus gods knew what else that traitorous bartender had slipped into his drink. “What did he offer you? How much were we worth to you?”

“What!?” Luc crossed his arms over his chest, eyes brighter than the med bay’s lights. “You think I—”

Guilt and malice and rage swirled between them, cutting through the lingering dizzy haze. “I can feel your guilt, Luc. You know you can’t hide it from me.”

“Love, no…” Luc’s voice broke, tears finally spilling down his cheeks. “Please listen to me… You’re not feeling that from me, I swear! Here…” He slid around the med bed, both hands outstretched. “Jan, please… Take my hand, you’ll see. You’ll—”

“Don’t you dare touch me!” Janus pushed the bed back between them. “No, you just want to make this all go away and you can’t, Luc. You just can’t. He killed that man! And it’s because of us! Because of y—”

Too late, his mouth snapped shut.

“You really believe I could…” Orange flame for eyes, Luc shook his head, lips pressed together, a gash across his face. When he spoke again, his voice was low, an almost monotone, his words carefully enunciated. “Very well, then, Janus.” He blinked, slowly, bathing the room in cold darkness, then turned and left.

Rooted where he stood, Janus listened to Luc’s footsteps fade before they eventually returned, pausing just outside the med bay. Janus held his breath, waiting. Listening.

There was nothing more to hear but the curt zip of a bag and the woosh of the front door opening and closing.

Luc was gone.

“Jannie?”

Janus had no idea how long he’d stood there before The Muse’s whisper pulled him back to that room. “Jannie, please help him.”

Jolted upright in bed, Janus swore when his grandmother’s repurposed album fell off the side and hit the floor. His dream—his nightmare—tightened its grip on his mind, claws sinking into flesh, The Muse’s plea wrapping tighter and tighter around him.

-”Jannie… Jannie…”-

He forced his eyes open and only then did he register the green lights flashing along the ceiling’s edge. The voice was no dream. -”Muse? What—”- He yanked back, blistering from The Muse’s thoughts.

-” Jannie, please help him !”-

He grabbed his gloves and a robe on his way out of the room and collided with Pat in the hall.

“I checked the breakers, I checked the shield,” he stammered, barefoot and clad in sleep shorts. “Everything’s working. I don’t understand—”

“He’s out in the hall.” Virge nudged them forward, pressing a tablet into Janus’ now gloved hands. “With Mac.”

Tears poured down The Prince’s face and he leaned close to Virge.

While Pat ran to the med bay, Janus watched the camera feed. Machina’s chair sat abandoned in center frame. The Muse’s lower half, writhing in a tangle of thorny vines, was the only part of him visible. Was Machina still inside? “Get him comfortable,” he ordered to Virge, nodding at The Prince.

Pat returned, zipping up his jumpsuit, the largest medkit tucked under his arm. “I’m ready.”

“He’s trying,” The Prince whispered as they passed. “He just can’t help it.”

“I know.” Eyes closed and with one hand pressed to the wall for support, Janus reached out. -”We’re coming, Muse. Hang on.”-

With Pat’s help, he made it onto the elevator and down to the basement. He used the brief trip to stitch together a semblance of a shield, filtering what he could of the turmoil in The Muse’s mind. “I’ll need you to—”

-”Hurry, hurry, hurry…”- The Muse broke through. Why wouldn’t he just go back inside his room? Why had he even left? Had Machina somehow lured him out? He understood what the shield meant to him… didn’t he?

“I’ll get Re,” Pat promised, one arm still loosely wrapped around his waist. The other gripped the tablet and the med kit. “But maybe come back? He might need you.”

Janus nodded, less steady than he would have liked, as the elevator stopped and the door slid open. Machina and The Muse’s cries echoed down the stone corridor, amplified by the small space. They rushed out, Pat barely slowing to grab Muse, remembering just in time to leave behind the tablet before the shield fried its circuitry.

They stepped over the threshold and silence—near silence—fell over the hallway. The world that poured into The Muse’s mind—and relayed into his and The Prince’s—quieted.

Janus hated how his shoulders dropped, his jaw unclenched and he dropped to his knees in shaky relief next to the whimpering heap of blankets on the floor.

“Machina?” He jerked away from the touch, reaching for the closed door. -”Logan.”-

Machina froze, clinging to the thought.

-”Logan, you’re safe,”- Janus sent as gently as he could manage while fighting past the blocks Machina seemed to have instinctively put up. -”You’re safe now.”-

-”Muse isn’t.”- With a groan, Machina rolled and met his eyes, revealing his blood-and-tear smeared face.

Nodding slowly, Janus gently wiped his face clean with the edge of the blanket. -”He will be,”- he promised. -”Patton will care for him. As I will care for you.”-

Machina considered his words, bloodshot eyes darting between his and The Muse’s door. Finally, he nodded.

“May I?” Janus asked aloud, arms outstretched.

He nodded again and Janus lifted Machina up and into his chair. When he resisted leaving behind The Muse’s blanket, Janus simply placed it on his lap and tucked it up and out of the way of the wheels before rolling him into the waiting elevator and upstairs to the med bay.

Most of the blood covering his face came from his head and from gashes on his tongue, swollen arcs of bite marks driven in top and bottom. He helped him rinse with a saline solution from the med kit, humming quiet praise at his cooperation. There was more blood on his hands, along with fine strands of Machina’s hair twisted around his fingers. Patton guessed Machina likely bore bloody bald spots that matched the ones on The Muse’s scalp, too.

Just like Ro used to.

“He didn’t…” The Muse hung his head, wincing when Patton found a deep cut near the nape of his neck. “He didn’t mean to. And I…” His voice cracked with that same quiet shame.

“Oh, Kiddo… I know you didn’t want to hurt him. We all do,” Patton murmured and gently dabbed at the wound before reaching for the same skin adhesive he used on the bites in his mouth. “How… Kiddo, how did you…” He paused, letting his work to close up the wound distract them both.

Patton held The Muse’s hair up and away from the gash as the adhesive dried. His eyes wandered around the room. The Muse was dressed for bed but pastels and fresh drawings were scattered over the floor. Lots of them.

Most of the drawings featured Machina in his chair, dark stone walls behind him. Patton looked over his shoulder through the little window on the door. The backgrounds matched. This hadn’t been Machina’s first visit.

He focused on the rest of The Muse’s wounds and, as soon as the adhesive set, he urged him to drink some of the electrolyte. When The Muse finished his cup, he sat curled in the corner, knees hugged to his chest, shivering. Patton fetched the other blanket from his bed and wrapped it over his shoulders.

“He opened the door,” he whispered, guessing—or, more likely hearing—Patton’s unvoiced question. “He came inside so I could hear him. I tried to stop… I did. I did. I swear I did. I… He…” The Muse looked up at him, big green eyes swimming in tears. “He’s so lonely, too.”

Nodding, Patton crouched next to him and opened his arms. The Muse carefully arranged himself in the offered embrace, tucking the folded blanket between his face and Patton’s chest. Patton hummed and stroked The Muse’s hair with gloved hands.

“We shouldn’t be alone, Papa Bear.” His whisper was muffled against the blanket. “None of us should.”

This close to the door panel’s red lights, The Muse’s curls took on an orange glow and Patton swallowed back a sob.

“I know, Kiddo. I know.”

“Thank you.”

Janus thought he’d imagined Machina’s quiet whisper but when he lifted his head he was met with the other man’s steely blue eyes. “Wasn’t going to leave you there,” he muttered and raised a cup to his cracked lips. “Go slow.”

Machina made a face and pulled away, moving his tongue in his mouth like a foreign object.

Janus nodded and waited, cup at the ready. “You bit your tongue. You’ll absorb the stitches in a few days. Well, if…”

He sipped from the cup then chuckled dryly. “If I wasn't a Powerless, you mean.”

“That’s not how I would phrase it, but, yes…” He tipped the cup again, nodding when Machina took another long drink. “We’ve only used it on…”

“On Remus?”

Cup frozen mid-air, Janus stared at him. The Muse’s old name sent a spark through his veins, Ro’s prepubescent voice calling after his brother, filled with playful indignation.

‘Remus, stop! No fair! It’s my turn to be the dragon!’

The cup shook in his hand and he set it down before he spilled it on Machina’s bedding. “Where did you hear that name?”

Machina shook his head, mouth working for a moment before he shrugged. “I—I… In my head? It was… it was just there.” He blinked and shuddered, face twitching.

His breathing stuttered, eyes squeezed shut as panic and shame gripped his mind. Machina shook his head and flailed in the med bed, tugging away the blanket and tangling his stumps in the sheets.

-“No, no… None of that… Stay here with me,”- Janus sent and spoke, gripping his shoulder. Finally, he lay back, hand twisted in the blanket. Still, his mind swirled with images he could not have witnessed himself. -”That’s The Muse’s past… Not yours.”-

Janus smiled when Machina finally met his eyes. “There you are,” he said aloud and offered more of the electrolyte. “You need it. Between the blood loss and…”

He finished the cup and took three sips of the next before shaking his head. “I…” He let out a little puff of air and looked away, guilt thick and sour in his scent. Janus returned the cup to its spot on the bed tray and waited.

“I heard another name… Well…” Dozens of names in The Muse’s voice echoed in his mind and Janus pulled back, throwing up a weak shield.

But not before he caught one final name.

Machina grabbed his sleeve and pulled him closer. “Who’s Lucas?”

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askshinyglaceon · 1 year

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My duties are different when it’s dark out, of course…!

#ic #ask #echo #dolly #eve-of-halloween #eohpmdstreams #(unsure which character sent the ask so lmk & ill tag them!)#greatgoldlion #distortionmewtwo #ultraviolet #lore #the flock

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distortionmewtwo · 2 months

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I don’t know if it’s a good idea to tell her. I think someone might end up dead if she knew.

"He does have a lot of empathy.... too much, if you ask me-"

Sugar was still for a moment as she processed that. Champion battle, UV the only candidate for Giratina- and Ultraviolet hadn't known this. The gentle creature was being pulled into a battle against his will, thanks to Giratina, who'd known all along and hadn't told him...

"Did he ever listen to me before! No! He was soooooooo convinced that Giratina is good and pure! Well he's sure gonna listen NOW!!"

"Don't worry, I won't be going about this in a way that will cut him off..... it's time he finally accepts what I've been trying to show him since day one!!"

@spacecatsaremadeofdarkmatter @violetjazz25

#parental abuse #gentle tag addition just in case #since I don't really know? but would rather be safe than sorry #the tag is probably gonna stay for a little longer though........ yeah sorry Sugar is not a good Mew #sugar #ultraviolet #my art #mewtwo oc #pokemon ask blog #a champion's reign

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ecruteakfreak · 2 years

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Figured it was about time I made myself a sparklepossum

#I love….ourple….#furry #furry oc #furry art #digital art #sparkledog #sparklepossum #sparklefur #scenecore #scenemo #emo #emocore #opossum #ULTRAVIOLET #sorry to invade the tags a bit hehe (<- not sorry at all)

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tired-fandom-ndn · 2 years

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For the ship bingo, have you done WrightWorth yet? :D

I have not!

They were divorced before they ever even started dating tbh. Most of Phoenix's clients were 100% convinced that Miles was estranged ex-husband and sent them congratulations cards when they supposedly got back together.

#ace attorney #wrightworth #tagging the ship becauseyou all know i'm right #ask meme #ultraviolet-ink

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transingthoseformers · 1 year

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You know how bayverse Barricade has "To punish and enslave" on his paintjob? We need more mecha with lettering and numbers on them. Whether it's Cybertronian glyphs, various quotes in human languages, or hell nonsensical doodles.

We need more Cybertronian tattoos

#transformers #tf worldbuilding?#tfp au #fuck it I'm throwing this in the au tag because we know this is in the au lore #after all there's the ankle design craze and there's the ultraviolet tattoos #thinking about an oc storyline where they have ac/dc on their paintjob

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junos-oc-emporium · 7 months

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Feeling down? Draw a butch! (Works for me!)

#I'd like to introduce everyone to Nico/Nikki/Nick #Nico is default with they/he pronouns but switches up to Nikki (she/her) and Nick (he/him)#i'll always tag him Nico tho :]#butch #lesbian #art #oc #ultraviolet violins #nico

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neon-glowing-rainbow-stims · 2 years

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🟧 ~ Laser Tag ~ 🟧 (via)

(Pls credit if you use!! ☕)

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supernovasimplicity · 10 months

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Tag Game: for each letter in your URL/username, post the first song you think of for each letter

tagged by my beloved @guzhu-furen. my username is... so long. i'm just going to do supernova

Super- SEVENTEEN

Ultraviolet- Stiff Dylans

Party in the USA- Miley Cyrus

Electricity- Billy Elliot

Rewind- Paolo Nutini

Nonstop- OH MY GIRL

Our House- Madness

Valerie- Amy Winehouse

Absinthe- IDKHOW

fun fact: my memory is atrocious. so my challenge for this one was to actually use songs that I could think of off the top of my head, no looking at playlists. from this experiment we can tell that my brain is stuck... somewhere far far in the past with a couple of exceptions. moving on

i'll tag @fiddlepickdouglas @solaarflaree @taniushka12 @lingzhu @thebeatneverleaves @betweenbutterflies @magicaldreamfox1

(no pressure if you don't want, and if anyone else does want in lmk and i'll tag you)

#tag game #this was very funny #sincerely my brain stopped recording new memories in 2012 #ULTRAVIOLET THOUGH WHERE ARE MY ANGUS THONGS AND PERFECT SNOGGING GIRLIES (GN) AT #i laughed out loud when that popped into my head #going to go listen to it now tbh

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lesbianuravity · 1 year

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au where instead of jaune, team rwby and ilia/velvet end up in the ever after separated from the rest of their team (friends in ilia’s case) because i want to spread my ilia, velvet, yang and weiss friendship group agenda

VELVET AND ILIA NUMBER ONE FREEZERBURN SUPPORTERS AND YANG AND WEISS NUMBER ONE ULTRAVIOLET SUPPORTERS (they’re each other’s wingwomen, and yes they double date even before they’re ‘official’)

freezerburn and ultraviolet (velvet/ilia) versions of the punderstorm confession bridge scene (i haven’t thought about how the confessions would go yet)

- “oh my god, you finally did it.” yang and ilia shout this at each other when they see each other kissing their respective girlfriend.

#fandom : rwby #characters : yang xiao long、weiss schnee、velvet scarlatina & ilia amitola #ships : freezerburn and ultraviolet #ship emojis : 🤍💛 & 🤎🐰#(ship tags.)#otp: and i know that when i'm with you i'm at home #otp: i had you through it all #otp: tbd (velvet x ilia)#[ general tags ]#rwby #velvet scarlatina #ilia amitola #yang xiao long #weiss schnee #yes this is a lot of tags but no idc skjsksjs #sorting that shit out for tagging purposes (slowly but surely)#𓄿.txt

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drawmaus · 1 year

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Cover for “Wings of the Warriors” by Ultraviolet Combat. Fun to work on, certainly a great distraction given what was going on at the time.

#Ultraviolet Combat #Wings of the Warriors #sci-fi #mech #commission #you guys know who you are #my work tag

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edupunkn00b · 7 months

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Meus ex Machina, Ch. 3: Alone

Edited public domain image of two hands reaching for each other, lit in deep blue and neon green.

Prev - Alone - Next - Masterpost - [ AO3 ]

Logan is left alone in the Mad Lads HQ when the team leaves to battle Hesper. But first a peek at three years after they purchased the old Louisa May Alcott museum… -

2093, Concord, MA, USA

“When will they ever stop? When we teach them a lesson?”

Patton’s hot chocolate rattled against the pair of teacups set on either side of it, the force of the hand slapping the table shaking even the pictures on the wall. “Now, Kiddo,” Patton inhaled, exaggerating the movement and giving the pair a gentle smile. Let’s all take a—“

“No! I will not take a breath! And I will not calm down and wait for the Powerless running the government to follow the arc of progress or whatever pacifying bullshit—“

“Language!”

“Papa Bear, it’s alright…” Patton's oldest friend's voice was soft, soothing. He brushed his hand, pacifying or calming, it almost didn't matter at this moment. They couldn't all be frothing at the mouth. “Let him get it out.”

“This isn’t simply some phase I will get past!” He growled, jerking away from the other two. “We’ve been trying things your way for three years now and look where we are!” Arms flung out at his sides, he looked around their newly finished HQ. “We have to hide away behind a forest laced in tripwire because the only thing the Powerless know how to do is hate.”

He stood, shaking his head as he stared at the vidscreen, the latest atrocity playing out in full spectrum splendor. “Maybe it’s time we used our powers for real change and made them stop.”

2105 New Boston, MA, USA

The spiral stairs closed up the moment Silvertongue’s head cleared the opening and Logan was left alone in the cavernous main room. The orange warning lights slowly faded away, returning the room to its earlier almost sunny glow. After scanning the walls for any sign of the cameras he was certain would be active, he gave up. Perhaps Silvertongue might show him where they were. Or maybe even Patton.

He shuddered at the memory of that soft, teddy bear of a man with his hand raised, admitting he’d at least attempted to kill someone.

Who the fuck are you to judge, Sanders? You nearly slaughtered thousands.

Rising to his feet, he walked the perimeter of the room, moving the mech carefully between the wall and the high-backed sofa, then again, sidling past the large table. He peered down the hallways at either end of the room and through the doorway that led to a room filled with computer screens and what looked like several medbeds. Advanced, far more advanced than Logan had even seen at the research center at the University.

White hot fire sizzled through his veins at the thought of his old school, burning away to a dusty, empty ash. His degree was his hope, his path out of the life his genetic lottery loss had cursed him with. Sagging in his suit, he tried to maneuver his way through the just-slightly-too narrow doorway but all he managed to do was nearly trap himself under the lip of the door.

Fuck if that wasn’t the way he wanted to be found when the super hero league showed up again.

Next he tried the hallways and, while they were wide enough, the ceiling dropped significantly in both directions. He would need to stoop-shuffle his way at least fifteen meters, with no way of knowing if there’d ever be room enough to stand. It didn’t matter if the elevators would fit his suit if he couldn’t get his suit to the elevators.

Unless he planned to live in the front room, he was going to need his chair to get around the base.

You’re talking like you’re planning to stay.

He’d left the chair next to the big doorway. Stepping carefully, he approached the panel Silvertongue had shown him and freed his hand from the mech’s cavity. He told himself he was only testing the lock but when the door whooshed open, phantom muscles ached to run and leap outside. To pound against the grass and not look back.

Where would he go? Wanted by Abracadabra, wanted by the University. Unwanted anywhere else. Except… He looked around the room, the plate of chocolate chip cookies still sitting on the table. Unwanted anywhere else except here. The overgrown grass outside was still trampled from their path through the woods. Silvertongue had hiked six miles each way to fetch him.

Maybe it was worth finding out why.

He tapped the panel again and watched the door whoosh back down, hiding away the rest of the world, then he put his arm back in the mech and opened up his chair.

In his rush to get out of the suit, Logan had forgotten to crouch before beginning to climb out of the cavity. He only remembered once he’d completely extricated himself from the machine and hung from the mech’s clavicle. He panicked and his arm seized, fingers spasming into a useless claw before losing his grip and he fell to the mech’s feet with a thud.

Pain shot through his head and his back and he looked up from the floor just in time to see his suit tilt toward him. The piercing wail of the Abracadabra DC’s alarm system filled his ears and he cried out, covering his head with his remaining arm.

But the Picker Bot just kept coming, looming over him, hands at the ready to tear and fold him into packing totes. Cold, heavy durasteel grazed his scarred head before the bot froze with a tooth-rattling clang.

When the bot remained still, , Logan uncovered his eyes and saw he was… safe. He’d managed to stay tucked in a tiny triangle of space between the bottom of the door and his mech, its shoulders pinned against the wall above. Shaking, he lay there for an unconscionably long time until he thought he could breathe. His back and his side ached, and his head throbbed. He reached up, tentatively tapping the growing lump at the back of his head. His hand came away wet.

Careful not to bump the mech and knock it out of its precarious position, he squirmed out from his pocket of safety and dragged himself over to his chair. He’d opened it up often enough on his own to be able to manage. He just… he hadn’t been quite so tired the last time he’d done it. By the time he’d wrangled the thing open, his face was drenched with sweat and he’d pinched two fingers in the folding mechanism.

Panting, he leaned against the open chair for a few minutes before pulling his way up and into the seat. Grateful for his remote mech controller, he set the device in his lap and slowly, slowly, slowly shuffled its feet forward until it stood properly. The battery was running low, but he managed to get it into a corner and down in a crouch, facing outward, to make it easier to climb into later.

The humiliation of having to ask one of the Fantabulous Four for help getting back into his mech was too much to even consider as an option.

When his breathing had finally slowed to a more measured pace, he turned his chair around and headed to the room with the medbeds. With any luck he could find some gauze or a wash kit or something for his head. The bleeding had stopped, but it had left his hair matted and gross. There wasn’t much to be done about his shirt, but it was likely none of them would even look closely enough at him to notice the dried blood at the back of his collar.

He puttered around the room but the space had been built for giants. Even Ultraviolet, the shortest of the Powered group, was at least a half a foot taller than Logan when he’d had his legs. In a chair, the equipment and shelves along the walls were hopeless out of reach. He scavenged what he could from the drawers below the sink and underneath the medbeds, finding a box of gauze pads and rubbing alcohol. Fortunately, he could reach the faucet itself, and the sensors actually registered his presence, instead of seeking out a face-shaped object at ‘eye-level.’

By the time he was done cleaning the gash at the back of his head, Logan was exhausted and cold, his now clean but wet hair dripping down the back of his neck. He’d lost track of exactly when they’d left, but he wasn’t sure how much more time he would have. Hunger called to him and he snagged his unfinished cup and three—three!—cookies from the common room. He ate one and wrapped the other two into a napkin for later. There wasn’t much else to do but pick a hallway and explore.

He finished his drink and tucked the cup between his thigh and the chair and rolled to the left. The corridor was long but wide, and his chair easily fit through, with enough space for someone to even walk alongside him. Doors dotted the hall, each closed, with a rectangular panel to the right of each. He touched the first one as he passed and the door slid open revealing stacks of linens and towels. The door opposite it held an assortment of electrical panels and switches, some sort of breaker room.

If the rows and rows of circuit breakers were all still active, the Powered’s facility was huge. Several banks were labeled with what one might expect, first floor lights, kitchen appliances… Three sections were marked as ‘med bay,’ and ‘computers.’ And one entire bank simply said ‘SECURITY! DON’T TOUCH! —V’

The entire left-hand panel was covered with red switches, each covered in a little plastic bubble in what Logan could only guess was an attempt to prevent accidental changes. Tiny LEDs blinked beside each switch, and additional wires ran out from the top of the panel and into an old-fashioned analog alarm bell drilled into the top of the cabinet.

Whatever the hell that controlled had to be important.

Logan let the door close and began to roll away, but returned to the linen closet when he shivered again. Palming it open, he pulled out two thick towels. One he draped over his shoulders to absorb some of the water from his drippy hair, the other he partially unfolded and lay over his lap like a blanket.

He rolled further down the hall. The next door opened into a fitness center with impossibly large free weights and exercise machines, tumbling mats and bars. Despite the modern equipment, the sunshine streaming in through giant windows, the whole place was entirely too reminiscent of his physical therapy room back at the hospital.

When he was still struggling to regain his speech, the ‘therapists’ had simply talked over him like a piece of furniture, moving his arm and what was left of his thighs and left shoulder like some ragdoll. At least when the director was watching. When she wasn’t, they’d let him sit in his hospital wheelchair for the requisite hour and a half, waiting for an orderly to bring him back to his room.

Logan let the door close and moved on.

The final door didn’t lead to a door at all, but instead an elevator. ‘True to Janus' word, his chair fit nicely and, if he’d manage to find a way to get his mech suit to fit down the corridor, it would fit inside the metal and glass cage as well.

He rolled inside and turned around. Instead of a bank of buttons, there was simply another rectangular panel. Shrugging, Logan pressed his palm against it and the wall lit up with options. None were numbered, simply listing destinations. Giddy with choice, Logan read each one aloud. “Roof garden, observatory, swimming pool, tech lab, library…”

Well, all were labeled as destinations except for ‘Basement.’

Confident no-one would wonder what he might want with a visit to any of the other locations, Logan decidedly tapped Basement and held on as the elevator zoomed down, his stomach left somewhere in his throat, lights zipped past the glass compartment until, at last, the elevator stopped with a dull thud and the doors opened.

Hallway lights flickered to life as he rolled out, but there was no hum of electricity and, when he looked closer, the lights appeared chemical, illumination flowing and swirling brighter, following his path like those old-fashioned glow sticks he’d read about as a kid.

The corridor was much narrower here, still wide enough for his chair but certainly not wide enough for his mech. Without the hum of electricity, it was quiet, the ever-present whine of his own wheelchair’s motor almost deafening as it echoed against stone walls. The mortar between the stones was old, and Logan guessed it might have been part of the original house that had once stood in the place. Or he would have, had that strange elevator ride not taken him as deep as he suspected.

The first door he encountered opened to a small closet filled with bedding, cleaning supplies, and an enormous first aid kit. Besides the elevator, there was only one other door in the corridor, all the way at the end. A bit of light spilled out from a square window set in the door.

And something was moving on it.

He rolled closer, still too far away to clearly see. Logan was still several feet away when something pounded against the door, rattling the window. He stopped his chair.

“Jannie?” a muffled voice called, scared, wavering. “Jannie! Is that you? No… Jannie? You said you’d come!”

Logan froze, afraid to breathe.

“Jannie? That’s not you. Where are you? I hear you, not you. Always not you. Just that one time, well sometimes. It’s so hard to tell the difference between your whispers and your visits, but there was that one time…” The man’s voice started babbling, the banging growing louder and faster. “Jannie! Jannie jannie jannie jannie jannie jannie…”

The banging matched the tempo of his words, each growing louder and more insistent.

“Jannie!” The voice bellowed and Logan rolled backwards, the narrow corridor without affordance to turn around properly. “Jannie! Jannie! Please! Why don’t you come back?” He rolled so fast he passed the elevator, slapping his hand against the panel. The door opened immediately and he rolled inside, the haunting voice echoing down the corridor.

“Come on, please,” he whispered to the deaf device, slamming his hand on the elevator controls and hitting ‘Medbay.’ “Please close, please close, please close…”

“Jannie…” One last, pitiful cry pierced through his chest as the elevator door slid closed and the compartment shot up to the main level. Logan rolled out of the elevator and into the hall, bumping into the far wall. His hand shook too much to properly control his chair and tears poured down his cheeks.

Who the hell had they imprisoned down there?

And was he next?

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famedexclusive · 2 years

Photo

7 SEPTEMBER — In August, new releases from Lily, Ultraviolet, Equinox, Calypso, Polaris, and Kami entered the Circle Chart.

Kami’s solo debut “Solo” debuted at #1 in its first week.

Lily’s comeback title track “I Feel You” peaked at #3 in Week 33 and b-sides “Baby Don’t Play” (#48), “Candle” (#62), “Rewind” (#86), “John Doe” (#92), “One Black Night” (#94), and “Faded Love” (#96) also entered the chart. The same week, Ultraviolet’s “Adios” debuted at #19 before rising to #2 the following week.

Andromeda entered the top twenty of the chart for the first time ever with their Round 2 Crowned cover “Listen to My Word (A-ing)”.

Equinox’s “Queendom” debuted at #6 in Week 35.

Several songs from the third round of Crowned also appeared on the chart: Titan’s “Checkmate” (#134), Lily’s “You Think” (#30), Cloud’s “HIT” (#64), Candy’s “So Bad” (#159), Selene’s “Destiny” (#68), Platinum’s “Finale (Show and Prove)” (#134), and Catalyst’s “Wolfgang” (#138).

Calypso’s comeback song “After ‘We Ride’” entered the chart at #51 in its debut week.

Polaris’s new single “Dynamite” debuted at #6 with a late-week release.

Weekly Top 20 for August:

Top 20 Week 32 (2022.07.31-2022.08.06)

1. Solo - Kami 2. Traffic Light - Duri 5. Soulmate ft. Kiana - Haon 6. Missing You ft. Hyojung - Haon 12. Any Song - Haon 13. Chi Mat Ba Ram - Calypso 14. Yes I Am - Selene 15. Rollin’ - Calypso 16. Love Poem - Suji 18. Lilac - Minjung

Top 20 Week 33 (2022.08.07-2022.08.13)

1. Solo - Kami 3. I Feel You - Lily 4. Traffic Light - Duri 6. Soulmate ft. Kiana - Haon 7. Missing You ft. Hyojung - Haon 12. Any Song - Haon 14. Rollin’ - Calypso 15. Listen To My Word (A-ing) - Andromeda 16. Chi Mat Ba Ram - Calypso 19. Adios - Ultraviolet 20. Lilac - Minjung

Top 20 Week 34 (2022.08.14-2022.08.20)

2. Adios - Ultraviolet 3. Traffic Light - Duri 4. Solo - Kami 6. Queendom - Equinox 10. Soulmate ft. Kiana - Haon 11. Missing You ft. Hyojung - Haon 16. Any Song - Haon 17. Rollin’ - Calypso 20. Lilac - Minjung

Top 20 Week 35 (2022.08.21-2022.08.27)

2. Solo - Kami 3. Adios - Ultraviolet 4. Traffic Light - Duri 6. Dynamite - Polaris 7. Queendom - Equinox 14. Soulmate ft. Kiana - Haon 15. Missing You ft. Hyojung - Haon 17. Any Song - Haon 19. Rollin’ - Calypso

#tag: chart #tag: kami #tag: duri #tag: haon #tag: calypso #tag: selene #tag: suji #tag: minjung #tag: lily #tag: ultraviolet #tag: equinox #tag: polaris

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frxgments-of-frxgments · 2 years

Note

The reporter squawked at being splashed in the face. The cheek of it all! But it wasn't the time to pull out that water balloon cannon. He needed to focus! That was what spurred him to take the dishcloth and start drying the glasses. All the while, he focused on the DA. He wasn't as smart as others might be in this situation, but he had experience. That, paired with memories starting to return, meant he could fall back on that rather than what books might say to do.

"Yer not what th' mirror says ya are." That much seemed obvious, at least. "I see someone who is helpful, looks out fer others, always has some sorta smartass quip, got a good sense of humour, an' that's not even considering how handsome-and-or-beautiful ya are. But... yer also sensible. Yer willin' ta listen, ta learn. Yes, yer in a position where ya get caught up in other stories, but that isn't what you are. Yer more than a story. Look at yerself now. This isn't a story. This is a moment. A snippet from a day, just like any other day." The clean glass was put down, only for it to disappear in a blink and turn back into a wet glass. Oops. Start again.

"If they love ya, they won't mind what they come home ta. They'll be a support fer ya, just as y'd be ta them. An' yer not alone this time. Every time ya feel like yer gonna fall back into a story ya don't wanna be in, I'll be there in a ding of th' bell. I'll get ya, if they can't reach." The glass, now dry a second time, was put aside. It stayed where it was supposed to be this time. "We're gonna get ya yer own story. One with no loops, no paths to choose from, no risk of roles. Just... a story of life, y'know? A story where ya get ta live, struggle with th' normal things like buses not arrivin' on time, an' ya get ta make yer own choices with no one nudging ya this way or that." (rosetintedgunman)

There’s something close to a smirk on the DA’s not face as Wilford yelps like he’s been attacked. The water’s only warm, not enough to scald, but the way he reacts, you’d think it was boiling. They’re a little surprised when it doesn’t trigger an all out water fight; but they suppose Wilford’s just a little too perceptive to take the bait. Instead, he insists on being helpful, drying dishes and everything as he keeps playing therapist. It’s enough to make them swallow against a surge of emotion that threatens to have their eyes prick with tears. Figures they’d have eyes right when they don’t want them. At least when they didn’t have a face at all they couldn’t give anything away.

Isn’t it? They ask instead, scrubbing a glass that’s been clean for at least a minute now. It’s easier to focus on the rough steel wool against their fingers, harsh and grounding where it scrapes their skin raw, the soap stinging as it seeps through. It’s enough to almost make them think that this body is real. Real meat and bone, and blood and sinew, and nerves and veins, but they know better. They know that if they scrub hard enough they won’t bleed. That should they choose to slice themselves open, wrist to shoulder, they’ll find nothing inside, not even if they peel their entire skin back, delve deeper and deeper, searching for something, anything to reassure them that they’re here, and tangible, and more than just words on a page.

Or words on a screen. The harsh glow of LED, black pixels on a plain white background, the tap tap tap of fingers against a keyboard. They only exist in someone’s mind, only allowed to speak when they think it worthy enough to be typed out, their very being up to the whims and judgement of somebody else. Even now, they wonder if they’ve gone too far. If this is too much. As if the DA’s pain is inconvenient. They thought Wilford would understand. But perhaps not even he can see their existence for what it is.

Oh, Wilford. I was never even canon to begin with.

That would be nice, they sign instead as they place the glass on the counter to be dried. I wouldn’t mind a nice slice of life for a change.

#; fragments of fragments (ic)#; through the glass (asks)#; ultraviolet pink (wilford)#; rosetintedgunman #tw unreality #whoops! there goes that pesky fourth wall again!))#tw self harm #tw gore #tw body horror #HM. THIS GOT DARK.))#this one got away from me as u can probably tell))#ask to tag as always!!))#tw dissociation #; on the rocks (the moonlight roller)

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