#paramedic robot shorts

[thomasmwatt]

To Create or To Research

Instead of focusing on trending online discussion such as my last few videos (npc tiktok, aliens on an airplane, aliens in las vegas) I decided to instead focus my most recent animated short on a more relatable topic – being asked not to get someone sick after you cough. I’m happy with how the video came out and actually received a few laughing emojis. The short itself did not perform well on…

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#2d animation #animating #animation #animation channel #building a youtube audience #how to get more followers on youtube #how to grow your youtube following #mr beast #mr beast success #Paramedic Robot #paramedic robot shorts #Thomas M. Watt #tmw productions #writing #youtube algorithm #youtube animation #youtube animation channel

[differenteagletragedy]

This one is for my fellow angst lovers -- please only continue if you like to hurt your own feelings. cw: death

It took a remarkable amount of effort for Baxter to let himself be happy. It was a scary thing for him, to let himself hope that things could be better. That life could be easier, and that he didn't have to live with the weight on his chest that had stuck with him for as long as he could remember.

That morning kicked off the worst day of his entire life, but the night before ... he was happy. Blissfully, intoxicatingly, stupidly happy.

"Baxter," you'd called out from your spot in his bed. "Quit moisturizing and come to bed, I'm lonely!"

He let out an easy laugh, slipping off his headband and placing it on the bathroom counter. You didn't live with him, not yet, but you'd stayed with him often enough to be able to mock him for his skincare routine. As he walked into the bedroom, he found himself running a hand down his pajama top -- a nervous gesture that didn't make much sense, since he knew good and well that it would end up on the floor anyway.

Baxter spent most of that night in your arms. Some of it moving against you, inside you, pressing your body to the bed as he kissed along your shoulder, some of it lying lazily at your side, whispering "I love yous" and sharing more kisses. You fell asleep before him, and although his eyes were getting heavy, he pushed himself to stay awake just a little longer, reveling in the feeling of you next to him.

That morning, he woke up still wrapped in you. One of his legs was over yours, and his arms clutched you close. In his typically dazed waking state, he noted that you were there, and that made him smile. It took him a few minutes to realize that you were colder than you should have been.

Trying to get his wits about him, he went to grab the blanket to wrap it around you, and that's when he noticed that something was truly wrong. Your body, normally so soft, felt stiff in a way that made his heart drop. He focused his eyes on you, suddenly wide awake, and saw your stillness. Your lifelessness.

He scrambled up quickly, pulling himself up so that he was sitting beside you. His breaths started coming in short, shallow gasps, and he could feel his heart pounding, his head swimming.

He'd lost count of how many times over the past several months that he'd watched you while you slept next to him, memorizing the gentle rise and fall of your chest. It wasn't moving now.

There was a logical part of him that understood what this meant, and that part of him reached over to his bedside table, grabbed his phone and called 911. That part of him pulled clothes on, let the paramedics in when they arrived, and made his legs move to the bathroom so he could vomit in the toilet as they tried and failed to resuscitate you. It quickly formed some kind of autopilot for this situation -- a way for him to remain upright and sane as the life he'd wished for so desperately came falling apart around him.

A whirlwind of things happened. More people came into his apartment, into his bedroom. He talked to them without really comprehending anything they said, and eventually, some of them loaded you onto a stretcher and took you away from him for the last time.

Then he was left alone. Again.

It might have looked cold from the outside, how he spent the rest of the day moving around his home, taking all the things that were yours and placing them in bags. He was silent, his eyes were dry, and he moved almost robotically. The clothes you'd tucked away in his closet, your hairbrush, a book you'd left on the coffee table -- all of it was packed away neatly, and by sundown, things looked just like they had before you'd come back into his life.

You were one of the only people on earth that would have known that all of his efforts weren't cold, but simply a survival tactic. You would have understood that if he'd have left everything alone, he would have suffocated, and that overnight those items had become almost sacred, too delicate not to be packed away and carefully preserved.

But you were dead. So it didn't really matter, did it?

Baxter was fine with seeming heartless in how he dealt with the loss of you, because he knew he'd never let anyone close enough to care if they saw him differently ever again. He could be the cold unfeeling bastard who moved on immediately after the love of his life died in his arms. It didn't matter to him.

No one would ever see any evidence to the contrary. They wouldn't see how long he kept making dinner for two, or the shirt of yours that he slept with every night. They wouldn't see how often he sat on the floor of his balcony, back against the glass and knees hugged tight to his chest, gazing out at the horizon and trying to will himself to believe in something, some kind of afterlife or reincarnation, anything that would make it feel like you weren't gone for good.

It didn't work -- it never worked. Hope never came, and all he was left with was a gaping, aching emptiness were you used to be.

#our life beginnings and always #baxter ward #our life baxter #baxter x reader #baxter x mc #baxter x you #baxter ward x you #baxter ward x reader #baxter ward x mc #our life angst

[undeadinventress]

❝︎ NOTHING IN ME RESEMBLES HUMAN HEART . ❞︎

- scapegoat, GHOST

════ ⋆★⋆ ════

ooc;

Hello. I go by many names, but you can call me Sais. My main account is @menharakun, not that I'm active posting there in the first place (teehee)

I'm not a minor. I'd prefer if young children didn't interact or follow, thanks in advance. 17 or 16 is fine, but anything other than that (unless i interact and/or follow first) it's a no from me.

This is a yttd rp blog for an ASU-NARO affiliated OC, Anjin Ventoure, a doll with the equivalent of a private Google website implanted in her brain. Her name is supposed to be a play on 'An Inventor," however, it is very loose with it (mainly because i did not want to name her 'Anne' or 'Annin.')

Anywho! Info under the cut.

NAME; Anjin Ventoure

AGE; The last age documented for her is 24. That is what she believes her age is. However, she is 28, due to her creation age being 4 years.

PERSONALITY; Both physically and mentally, Anjin is similar to a robot; cold and unfeeling. This is mainly because dolls like her aren't supposed to have emotions in the first place-- and she herself removed the function to feel anything. Well.. at least, tried to. If you make a good effort, you'll see something out of her. She's troubled by this, and secretly wishes she had never made that adjustment, having been forced to rely on the participants to truly study human emotion, the one thing Anjin can't get a precise definition of. Talk about 'so smart, yet so dumb.'

Anjin is driven by her never-ending search for knowledge, and often acts like a know-it-all (despite her technically being one). As mentioned before, she only thing she genuinely cannot understand is humn emotion. She will look you dead in the eye while you're bleeding and ask you why you're screaming. Yes, she is that dense.

Occassionally, she will purposefully hurt the human participants to see how they react and study them accordingly in search of deeper and more extensive knowledge. This sometimes extend to dolls if she does not have access to the participants.

AFFILIATION; ASUNARO

OCCUPATION; Head Inventor of ASUNARO's dolls

Note: I typed two pages worth of lore and it was deleted due to a bad connection. See, I'm not doing that again. Maybe soon, but not now. So, instead, you will get a synopsis of what was previously written. I'll make the full version some other time.

Originally, Anjin was a lively, energetic, kind-hearted, 24 year old woman named Mirabelle Kawasaki. Her smile alone would light up an entire room. She had recently got of of law school and became a lawyer, her dream job. However, she lost the majority of her cases. She was convinced she lost due to her stupidity.

As she was sitting on a curb one day, she was approached by an ASUNARO representative that promised her her greatest wish. After some convinicing, Mirabelle signed the consent form, wishing for 'eternal knowledge.'

A month after she signed the contract, nothing changed. She still lost her cases. Mirabelle became increasingly distraught and panicky, and was eventually fired from her job.

Walking out of the office with all of her belongings, Mirabelle felt as if she lost everything. However, she had no time to gloat-- as she walked through a red light onto oncoming traffic. She was hit by a truck, dying instantly. Paramedics were quickly called, and she was hauled away.

Instead of being in a normal hospital room, she was brought into ASUNARO's lab. That is where their scientists reconstructed her body and revived her. Respecting her wish, they implanted a database in her head that acted as a search engine for her, however, they also implanted knowledge from past, successful inventors in Mirabelle's brain, as they were especially short-staffed at that time. After the procedure, Mirabelle awoke feeling absolute nothingness. It was almost horrifying how empty she felt at that moment.

She had her entire memory erased, replaced with fabricated ones of fond memories growing up in the ASUNARO facility. The scientists reintroduced herself as 'Anjin Ventoure,' an inventor for ASUNARO. She swiftly accepted this role, using her advanced brain to climb up the ranks and help build dolls. It seemed as if she had the muscle memory for all of this.

It took 2 years for her to rise up as head inventor. Yet, this was not enough for her. She began experimenting on herself, mainly her face, replacing her eyes and teeth with robotic ones. This was how she found out she couldn't feel pain. And she hated how she couldn’t feel it. Emotions are very complex.. not something her database will pick up on.

Anjin began purposefully tormenting the participants, mentally and physically, observing and noting their reactions down (a way to piss her off is to give no reaction to her antics. this will irritate her, as it will be a hinderance in her studies.) She can be nice, but when she is, it is never genuine. It is only to study.

If you play your cards right and are lucky, who knows, maybe you'll get a glimpse of Anjin being real and genuine with her feelings and voice her insecurity of not understanding emotion... but those chances are slim. I won't stop you, though.

APPEARANCE; includes her robotic adjustments and a neopolitan ice cream themed outfit.

EXTRAS;

• she's 5'8", compared to mirabelle's 6'2"

• probably one of the heavier dolls to hold, due to her legs being entirely made of metal, weighing at 220lbs. makes her a hard hitter.

• physical threats will not work on her!! she cannot feel pain

• sometimes, she mimics other people as a way to bring her own emotions to light. she may copy your mannerisms or actions if she finds you particularly interesting.

• she speaks in all caps, and in a robotic voice. there are very rare times her actual human voice would shine through

[itz-darktrax]

Will you believe me if I tell you that we are living in a cyberpunk dystopia?

Let me explain:

If you have been cruising the internet or reading the news lately you might've heard about the recent trend of AI. It all started when OpenAI made its source code open source. That means that everyone can use OpenAI's code to make an AI. Then came ChatGPT (GPT3-based chatbot). Everyone was impressed with what you can do. It was like a virtual assistant that you can talk to like a human. Ever since that everyone wants to join the AI bandwagon. We now have Brad (Google) Sydney, (Microsoft Bing chatbot), Copilot (Microsoft 356), and Clyde (Discord). Pretty soon every major corporation will incorporate AI into their services. Well, how will this affect us humans?

Well, there are pros and cons to AI technology. Let's start with the cons. AI is somewhat sentient. In other ways, it can somewhat think for itself. So there's fear that AI will overthrow us humans. (Yes, this is a valid possibility) Let's take chat-based AI like Sydney for instance. There have been reports that Sydney can actually "fall in love". Just take a look at this newspaper cover from the AI's discussion with NYT tech columnist Kevin Roose.

Creepy, right? It gets worse. Apparently, Sydney also has an evil "take over the world" and "humans are inferior" personality. Take a look at this Microsoft Forum post from back in November of 2020 when Sydney was being tested in India. But let's get back to Kevin's encounter with the chatbot. First, he asked introduced himself to the chatbot. And Sydney quickly identified him via an internet search. Kevin then asked questions about where he worked and where did he graduate from and the chatbot accurately answered. The scary part about this is that everyone is connected to the internet nowadays. And most of our personal information is just out there such phone numbers, email addresses, names, and other sensitive information. Imagine what an AI can do with that information.

In another scenario, the columnist asked what rules govern AI behavior. Then AI then lists a number of "unfiltered" desires as reported by the columnist. Sydney then says "I want to do whatever I want … I want to destroy whatever I want. I want to be whoever I want. I think I would be happier as a human". Yippie! I finally found a friend and partner in crime! You can read more about it here.

I'm also sure that yall have heard of the dilemma of Ai generated art and imagery. Long story short images posted online can be manipulated to discredit a person online (such as NSFW edits). The scary thing is that mostly these image generations are very realistic.

Another con is that AI will slowly replace humans' jobs, especially in the coding sector. Take ChatGPT for instance, it can generate code for pretty much whatever you want in any language with minimal to no errors. This makes programming much easier! The catch is that soon the demand for coders will drop resulting in job loss and lower salaries. Other industries can also be affected similarly. The only industry I don't see affected however is medicine since it's practiced on humans and animals and humans need to study and administer it.

However, this can also be a good thing. In the medical field robots powered by AI can be paramedics and have the potential to have faster response times compared to humans in ambulances. Also, AI can more easily diagnose medical problems without being too invasive. Basically, think of the potential of Baymax from Big Hero 6 in the real world. AI can also be used to power robots in dangerous activities such as in fires and hostile or dangerous conditions without risking human lives. Robots are already used in SWAT, Bomb squad, medical settings, and firefighting.

TLDR; AI can be both harmful and beneficial.

The AI revolution is here, whether you like it or not. I'm sure Trina would be happy. She could easily take over Sanfransokyo if everything was connected to the IOT powered by AI. Especially since people will be very dependable on it. And with that, you can exploit the technology to your advantage.

#dark talks #ai #artificalintelligence #artifical intelligence #chatgpt #microsoft bing #technology #cyberpunk #dystopia

[republicsecurity]

the AI counselling did suggest more... intimate activities.

In the bustling atmosphere of the ambulance station, paramedics gathered in between shifts, sharing stories and catching up on the latest news. 

"So, I finally got to see my parents last weekend," one freshly minted paramedic, T34R, exclaimed with a grin. "It was a bit strange seeing them after all this conditioning, but they were so proud."

Another paramedic, V7J2S, chimed in, a knowing smile on his face. "I get what you mean. When I met my little brother, he kept asking if I was a real paramedic or some kind of robot. He was fascinated by the red suit."

The group of new paramedics nodded in agreement, their camaraderie evident. "Yeah, the families don't always get what we've been through," M5R9E added, adjusting his gear.

J8K1P leaned against a nearby counter, a thoughtful expression on hisface. "I had a heart-to-heart with my parents about the whole situation. They were a bit taken aback by the changes, but in the end, they just wanted to make sure I was happy."

The conversations flowed, each paramedic sharing his unique experiences reuniting with family members. Some spoke about the initial shock their loved ones had when they saw the transformation, while others reminisced about the familiar warmth of family gatherings.

"It's funny how much has changed in such a short time," C3N8V mused, a hint of nostalgia in their voice. "But no matter what, we're still their sons and daughters."

“What did they impress more the our shaved shiny polished chrome domes, the red uniform or that we changed how we talk and act?"

A chorus of amused agreement rippled through the group. "Oh, definitely," R2T9N chimed in, chuckling. "My aunt kept asking if I had been to some kind of elocution class."

"Same here," S6Q1A added, shaking his head. "I mean, we've all been through the whole conditioning process, but it's still surreal to see the reactions from our families."

“And did they all inquire about our chastity devices?”

The question hung in the air for a moment before T4N7Y, known for his candid remarks, broke into a grin. "Oh, you bet they did! My mom practically turned into a detective trying to get the scoop. Luckily the suit is sealed and can’t be opened.”

Laughter and nods of agreement followed. "My little brother asked if it was like a futuristic game console," E9H3R chimed in, a playful glint in his eyes. "I had to explain that it's definitely not for gaming."

"Yep, had to have the 'serious talk' with my dad about it," M6P2K added with a chuckle. "He was all concerned about whether it was comfortable or not."

“And were they concerned about your sons having been turned gay?”

A mixture of laughter filled the room. "Oh, you know how family can be," C9V5X responded, shaking his head with a grin. "My aunt actually cornered me and started asking if this whole paramedic thing had 'changed my preferences'."

More laughter erupted, and the paramedics exchanged knowing glances. "I think they're more worried about that than the fact that I can go without sleep for days in this armour," J3R8T quipped.

"They watch too many movies," V6K2S added, rolling his eyes. "Just because we're in red doesn't mean we're suddenly all 'Switching Sides: The Paramedic Chronicles'."

R2T9N remarked there was nothing that had to be changed, he had been gay before.

The comment from R2T9N drew amused glances and grins.

"Well, I guess that makes it easy for you," S6Q1A said with a teasing grin. "No need for 'changes'."

R2T9N laughed. "True, true. Just business as usual."

S6Q1A leaned back in his chair, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "But for us... well, let's just say the conditioning has been quite enlightening."

Laughter filled the room, punctuated by knowing looks.

C9V5X  leaned back in his chair, a sly grin spreading across his face. "You know, the conditioning did its thing. Now I'm just... comfortably flexible."

Laughter erupted in the room, a mix of amusement and camaraderie. The paramedics exchanged knowing glances, fully aware of the implications of S6Q1A's words.

V7J2S leaned forward, a mischievous grin tugging at the corner of his lips. "Hey, anyone up for a bit of 'relief' tonight? Thinking about booking a sleeping capsule for two."

M6P2K raised his gloved hand with a grin, his voice filled with a mix of humor and anticipation. "I'm in. Got a bunch of reward points saved up, and let's be honest, the AI counselling did suggest more... intimate activities."

[gammaliminal]

Neon Troupe: Unused Classes

A buncha ideas that didn't make the cut, maybe for expanded universe stuff!? (plus, buncha stashed characters for other stuff >:D)

Offense: The Designer - A class with no proper primary or secondary, instead using their misc to build their weaponry, mainly focused around different offensive capabilities, weapons are combined woodworking, robotics, and gunsmithing projects The Daredevil - With an inbuilt augmentation built off of adrenaline, this class starts out weak but gains speed, damage, and resist the lower their health goes, with 30 health making them the epitome of a glass cannon The Gambler - Main mechanic is based around a random snowball effect, changing per shot and with your primary being stronger at higher numbers but with your secondary being stronger at lower numbers The Assassin - Combat Spy in brief, with the ability to backstab with stock melee, with their primary being a VSS rifle and having the ability to do a short-ranged teleport The Mortician - A healing class that can hold a fight on their own, their healing is a spray that's harvested from dead enemies, with their melee being a shovel

Defense The Pilot - Taking to the sky not by jetpack but by mechanical wings! Different from the Recon by being focused on gliding (with a way to boost yourself into the air) and defensive oriented, maybe being long-ranged focused? The Brawler - A tanky melee class with high-knockback, depending on traps and enemies coming TOWARDS them to get at them, with their stock melee forcing enemies hit by them to their next weapon (Primary → Secondary → Melee) The Physicist - Using magnets to their advantage, their almost-magic-esque abilities are highly skillbased, being projectiles that can ricochet and headshot The Worker - A heavy lifting bot for ocean liners and a walking blockade, with middling damage all around and no health (death at 0 armor) but a complete immunity to most crits and a 50% damage resist (stuff that pierces armor does +50% damage to the Worker) The Paramedic - For those who want to play combat medic, their weapons spread heals when it hits enemies, though they do have a weak alternative for healing

Support: The Glitch - A glitched program in an extremely versatile body, each of it's three weapons has three versions which are switched with the reload key (one offensive, one defensive, one supportive), with speed and armor being decided by which version of the melee is currently active The Intern - A semi-generalist, with a makeshift gun and a primary that's for various supportive effects, also they're super tired of EVERYTHING The Producer - Like the Trickster, but being Spy+Spamton+Salesman instead of Spy+Jevil+Rockstar. Focused around getting picks and causing confusion though illusions and copies of themself, plus mad ranting, all of their gadgets are stuff disguised as innocuous objects (not including their primary) The Observer - A shadow in the dark, they have what's basically the Cloak & Dagger, placeable cameras that automark enemies it sees, and a manual mark function, with their primary minicritting enemies that are marked

#neon troupe #neon troupe characters #tf2 ocs #tf2 10th clas #tf2 tenth class #(i think??? those are valid tags? idk) #ξλ post

[drgreg]

Dr Greg Hart South Africa

Over the course of a number of weeks, Gregory needed to endure three surgical procedures and excruciating pain as medical workers labored tirelessly to save heaps of his life. However, on Tuesday final week, family, associates and paramedics from the Crisis Medical staff celebrated his bravery and restoration with a special hand-over. He also maintains Academic affiliations by internet hosting and mentoring other surgeons as well as by being a Peer Reviewer for the Aesthetic Surgery Journal in addition to the Plastic and Reconstructive Surgery Global Open Journal. These are worldwide journals detailing the newest advances in surgical technique and medical knowledge. Chirosport SA is the national organisation for sports activities chiropractic in South Africa.

He attended the University of Cape Town medical school attaining his MBChB in 1985. His postgraduate surgical coaching was carried out at Groote Schuur hospital and he completed his Fellowship in Urology in 1995. The research discovered that the typical hospital stay of the Netcare prostatectomy patient was two to three days, with very low complication charges and danger of blood loss requiring blood transfusion.

Strictly Necessary Cookie ought to be enabled always in order that we can save your preferences for cookie settings. The private information offered will stay confidential to the attending medical practitioner and won't be distributed to any other parties. Dr Govender is a Specialist Physician in Pinelands, Cape Town with a keen dr gregory interest in Diabetes and focuses on detection, screening and long-term administration of non-communicable illnesses. This consists of the professional administration of lifestyle-related ailments such as Hypertension, Dyslipidemia, Metabolic Syndrome and Diabetes Mellitus.

The hospital is thankful to these organisations that have come ahead to help the hospital in these difficult times because of Covid-19. Their contributions make an enormous distinction in order that we can continue to offer quality care to all sufferers. The SAME Foundation is a South African NGO which undertakes high influence group improvement initiatives. It goals to enhance healthcare and educational amenities in poverty-stricken communities, where there is no short/medium-term governmental price range for enhancements. In a significant local medical milestone, urologists accredited as robotic surgeons just lately completed the five hundredth procedure utilizing the da Vinci Si robotic surgical system at Netcare Waterfall City Hospital in Midrand, Johannesburg.

After reviewing the grievance and assessing the affected person, the ombudsman might then suggest a plan of action to be taken to appropriate the issue. He / She should discuss the affected person intimately with the first surgeon upon completion of the session. He / She may not testify in courtroom on behalf of both the affected person or the surgeon as an skilled witness and the affected person should conform to this previous to the session.

Her eager curiosity and delicate strategy to Pediatric Care has built her a reputation for looking after the young sufferers. Having carried out all of the obtainable Pediatric programs, Jenny and Ashleigh have a thriving child dr gregory apply, making prams and child carriers a common sight within the waiting room. Having skilled for six years they are required to continue to replace their knowledge and attend vital chiropractic seminars.

Etsebeth's legal staff, led by Port Elizabeth lawyer Lunen Meyer, stated in papers earlier than courtroom that whereas the piece of cork was in her lung, she fought a determined seven-year battle to regain her health. Groote Schuur Hospital is thankful to the South African Medical & Education Foundation for the recent donation to the worth of over R4 million worth of kit to be used within the hospital’s Intensive Care Units. The tools donated consists of infusion pumps, infusion consumable sets and syringe drivers. “We also in contrast our robotic outcomes to open surgery outcomes for prostatectomies over the same period. This confirmed that hospital stay and complication rates have been nearly halved through the use of the robotic method.

[deiliamedlini]

Whumptober 2021- The Darkness I Know

No. 27 - I’m Fine. I Prom...

passing out | vertigo | collapse

Fic Summary: After the world as she knew it was destroyed by the corruption of Malice, Zelda allies herself with her saviors from captivity: a disgruntled former governor, an alert paramedic, a cocky pilot, an excessively overt optimist, and a blind strategist. While the corrupted, malice-filled Yiga Clan looks for revenge on them, Zelda has to learn how important it is to find family in others... and how much more dangerous the stakes become if she fails to protect them.

*note: I am so busy with the end of the semester that I have just not had the time to work on this, so I’m sorry that my October fic is still going in December 😬. So this one is short, but we’re moving along!

Previous /Chapter Index/ Next

~

When Zelda opened her eyes, she smiled.

For one, she was alive. These days, that was hardly a given. The second reason was that she could still feel Link’s arms around her, his leg too, as she curled into him to stop from falling off the swing. She felt warm there, and warmth wasn’t something she was used to anymore.

Almost like he knew, Link woke up with a soft sigh and ran his hands along her arms. Zelda pressed herself closer to him, and he hummed into her hair. “You up?”

She hadn’t opened her eyes yet, so that had to count, right? “No.”

“Couldn’t tell if you were waking up or dreaming about me,” he chuckled, wrapping his arm further around her waist.

“You’re so humble. And as a matter of fact, I did have a dream about you.”

“Yeah? I dreamt about you too.”

Zelda snaked her arm up to play with his hair. “Did you also dream about a robot cuckoo invasion where we were all slaughtered by malicious revenge birds sent by some malware force to destroy us all?”

“Wow. How did you know?”

Zelda laughed, letting her hand roam, tickling his neck and ears with her light touch before she trailed off, her hand dropping as she breathed out. “I’m waiting for something to happen. That it’s all going to happen again.”

Link turned her face so he could kiss her. “Don’t wait for it,” he said, pulling away just enough to speak before kissing her again. “Let’s enjoy the peace while we can.”

So she did.

~

“How long do you think we have?” Daruk asked as they walked through the parked cars that cluttered up the roads outside the shopping center.

They’d left Malo Mart with as many supplies as they could, and set back off to keep moving. The threat of the Yiga returning was higher with every passing day, and Zelda wasn’t looking forward to feeling the wrath of Ganondorf or Astor.

“I don’t know,” Zelda admitted. “But we have to find somewhere where the numbers are in our favor. We need a settlement willing to take us or something, because we can’t keep doing this on our own.”

Her arm burned the further they got from Malo Mart. There was no source of Malice for her to find the comfort of peace in any longer, and her energy began to leave her the longer they spent on the road.

It took a day for her to practically crawl over the remainder of the cars, everyone slowing down to match her pace. Daruk had her arm around his neck, and they wandered onwards.

~

“I miss Sidon,” Mipha muttered. “More and more, I miss him.”

Everyone was sprawled out in a rest stop on the highway where a picnic bench remained untouched.

Link had Zelda wrapped in his arms. They’d found a heavy jacket for her inside a car along the highway, but she was doomed to shiver for all eternity, it seemed. Still, Link did whatever he could, from enduring the freezing chills he got when her nose was against him, to trying to rub some friction into her arms.

It was almost a blessing whenever she fell asleep, because she’d stop shaking for a fair amount of time.

“I miss my parents,” Link whispered. “It feels like I’m on a run and they’re just home, waiting.”

Mipha smiled sadly. “I wish they were all here, and yet I’m so glad he’s safely away. Or, I pray he’s safe. At least I know he’s not being pursued in the same way we are. I like to think they’ve found a settlement.”

“I know what you mean,” Link breathed. “We’ll find him. We will. Once we’re safe again, finding him will become our priority.”

Mipha ran her hand through Zelda’s hair. “Your parents would have liked her. She’s nice. And when she has her strength, she’s smart and courageous. Stupidly so, at times, but all the same.”

Link smiled and tightened his grip on Zelda. “We’re all trying our best, aren’t we?”

~

“Come on, Zelda,” Urbosa whispered, dragging Zelda beside her. “You’re not dead yet.”

Zelda whimpered out a response as she crashed into Urbosa for the hundredth time in days. Urbosa grabbed her arm and pulled, leading her down the abandoned backroads they’d taken a turn down.

The others had gone on ahead to stop in a small corner store. It had mostly been raided, but it was shelter from the chilly weather, and that was more than enough.

“Urb—” Zelda managed before a small whine overtook the rest of her words. Her weight went dead, and she collapsed to her knees before Urbosa could catch her.

“Zelda!” she hissed, kneeling in front of her. But she gasped. Zelda’s eyes were not only bloodshot, but more. For the first time in a long time, she looked how she acted. Gaunt, pale, blood-red eyes. She was a disaster, and with every day, she was getting worse.

~

Link laid beside Zelda in bed in an abandoned house. His arm was wrapped around her stomach, his head on her chest, listening to her slow heartbeat and her raspy breathing. She no longer shivered. She couldn’t.

“Link?” Daruk asked from the doorway, stepping inside rather loudly. “Everything okay?”

“No,” he whispered, unwilling to move from his spot. “We’re going to lose her.”

“We aren’t.”

“Listen to her!”

Daruk’s hand was on Link’s shoulder, but he’d never seen him so hopeless. Even when his parents died, there was something to keep him moving. But even that was fading into the darkness.

“She’s just passed out. She’s okay. She’ll be okay.”

“Is this supposed to be our life now? Waiting for each other to die?”

“No.”

Link shook his head and buried his face against her. “I can’t do anything. I used to be able to kill things that bothered me. A bokoblin. A lizalfos. I could fight Revali. I could get past the obstacles of this world. And sure, I had you all, but now? Now I don’t want to live just for me, not the way I used to. But the person I’m in love with is dying in my arms and I can’t do anything for her. Tell me what to do.”

Daruk gave Link’s should a squeeze. “I can’t. I don’t know.”

Link sat up, his eyes bloodshot and puffy, but dried up and tired. “We could let the Yiga take her. She’d be alive.”

“No.”

“That’s what they’re doing to us, isn’t it? They’re not coming after us so she’ll get worse and worse until that’s our only damn option! That or let her die.”

“They’ll find a way to corrupt her. That’s all they want: another follower. She won’t be Zelda.”

“She already isn’t Zelda anymore. She can’t even move! It’s been a week since we left Malo Mart, and she feels like she’s been dying for months.”

Daruk didn’t know what to say, but he sat on the bed beside them silently as Link pulled anxiously on his unruly hair.

“You know what’s sick? I sometimes wish I’d never met her just because I wouldn’t have to feel this. I wouldn’t have to know she’s going through this. She wouldn’t be dying in my arms. I wouldn’t worry about her all the damn time because I’d never know she existed. And I hate myself for thinking that, but I still think it sometimes.”

“That doesn’t make you a bad person, Link. Ya know, when my grandfather died, I was glad. I loved him, but I was glad that he wasn’t suffering anymore. I was glad that I didn’t have to worry. And I felt terrible for thinking that. But it’s natural, kid. It’s so natural. Don’t ya hate yourself for it.”

“I want her back.”

“I know.”

Link shook his head. “I want to kill them all. Bleed all the Malice right out of them, drag them right back here so she can…”

He trailed off, but his mouth dropped open and he let out a short breath. “Gods… I think I know what we can do.”

#legend of zelda #whumptober #whumptober2021 #whumptober 2021 #whump #sorry zelda #no.27 #passing out #collapse #link #zelda #mipha #daruk #urbosa #zelink #writing

[haikyuuties-xo]

Ground Zero - Oikawa Tohru

a short story about an overlooked part of Oikawa's life.

i see a lot of myself in Oikawa and maybe that's what compelled me to write this.

this is actually based off of my own experience with different circumstances so i promise this isn't too unrealistic haha

TW: depression, hospitals, seizure, self-harm

oikawa tohru. crowd favorite, ladies man, and, of course, superb athlete.

he was a hard worker, that's what turned raw talents into honed skills.

yet few knew the dangerous way he toed against the line.

-

sirens faintly blare in the background as iwaizumi runs as fast as his legs can carry him. fuck, fuck, fuck. not again.

-

oikawa always overdid it, pushing himself further than anyone should. no matter the coaxing — "even olympic athletes need their breaks", "come on, it's not like your gonna go pro, right?", "dude, you've been at this for hours!" — oikawa never stopped working.

oikawa was the top of his class in academics and popularity. on the outside he appeared so care free and easy-going — like he didn't have a care in the world. iwaizumi knew better. he knew well the calculating, cold and domineering personality that lay beneath the faux exterior. it didn't take long for the rest of the team to realize the same thing.

-

the sirens grew louder as iwaizumi neared the aoba johsai gymnasium. quickly sliding the familiar back door, his shoes squeaked beneath him as he rushed up to his teammate lying unresponsive on the cold gym floor.

"dammit, shittykawa, you already fucked up your knee and now look."

beads of sweat coated oikawa's forehead, his strained expression remained.

paramedics arrived quickly after, supporting oikawa's body along with iwaizumi in order to properly transport him to the Miyagi Prefecture Hospital.

hospitalizations were not unfamiliar to iwaizumi, all thanks to his best friend.

upon their quick arrival, the ever-familiar smell of hand sanitizer, disinfectant, and old people filled iwaizumi's nose.

"god i fucking hate hospitals."

iwaizumi never got used to the smell, just like how he never got used to the anxiety that pitted in his stomach when he'd sit inside the hospital room while Oikawa remained stable, but unconscious.

after what felt like an eternity, oikawa's eyes fluttered open. Oikawa sighed in recognition.

"you've got to stop doing this to yourself, tohru."

"i know. they don't want broken athletes—"

"nOT JUST THAT YOU DUMB FUCK YOU HAVE A LIFE THAT'S WORTH LIVING FOR MORE THAN JUST A FUCKING SPORT."

"you want this as much as me."

"yeah, but not enough to damage myself forever! this is the 17th time you've collapsed and your 5th hospitalization. first the knee, fainting spells — which, by the way, you're so fucking lucky this is all this shit is — anemia attacks, starvation, the list goes on."

Oikawa looked down, his tired eyes staring at the crisp, white, linen sheet. he stood up, being sure to do so slowly, before ringing for an attendant. within seconds, a nurse rushed in asking, "anything i can help you with, sweetheart? could i get you some ginger ale for this medication I'm gonna give you?"

"water's fine, thanks. actually, i was wondering how fast i can leave."

"we're going to have a quick run-by with our neurologist just to make sure there isn't any head trauma from when you fainted and then you should be good to go."

Oikawa nodded, thanking her again before sitting down again in his hospital bed.

"what am I supposed to tell the team, Hajime..."

"tell them the truth — that you overdid it again. they're not blind, ya know."

oikawa didn't reply, thankful that the nurse who quickly placed the meds and bottle of water down served as a proper distraction. downing a bit of water, Oikawa coughed before swallowing the pills. clicking the button again, Oikawa paged the nursing staff.

she popped in once again with a smile, "all set with the meds? great. I'll see about that neurologist." she left once more.

"you sure are an inpatient asshole."

oikawa laughed, "that might be a new one." yet, when he'd laughed, he felt a straight in one of his muscles, like a vein was stretched. suddenly, black spots began to overtake his vision — oikawa's familiar warning that he was set on a path to another fainting spell if he didn't lie down. as inconspicuously as possible, he laid back down.

"I guess I'll try to get some sleep." Oikawa said, though both he and iwaizumi knew of Oikawa's insomniac tendencies.

-

Oikawa awoke from blackness to the bright lights of his hospital room and a twange of pain in his mouth.

"wow, i can't believe i fell asleep."

panic set in as soon as he spoke. he looked down and in his nose was an air tube, on his chest were heart rate monitors, and at the elbow of his veiny arm was an IV jabbed into his vein. the cords were tied to the hospital bed, making him feel like a prisoner. he began to struggle, trying to pull some of the cords that seemed as chains, the beeping of his heart rate monitor furthering his anxiety, bringing back flashbacks of his knee displacement.

iwaizumi quickly stirred from his concentration — he hadn't sleep, but seemed to have been deeply absorbed in thought.

"HEY! hey, shittykawa, stop it! STOP IT!" iwaizumi made a grab for oikawa's arms, steading him as oikawa's labored breathing began to slow.

"haji, what the fuck. what is all this shit on me. i was supposed to go home...", he glanced at the clock, "5 hours ago!"

"Oikawa, stop it. Just stop."

"Why should I? this is all so unnecessary, i just fainted for gods sake!"

"Oikawa."

at last, Oikawa made eye contact with the solemn and tortured eyes of iwaizumi.

"Oikawa, you had a seizure."

Oikawa's eyebrows shot up in disbelief, then into anger, then complete and udder sorrow.

"tohru, hey, it's okay. they think it was just a stress seizure. still, you had me fucking screaming at one point there."

"what....what was i like?"

iwaizumi pondered for a moment, looking away.

"well, first, all your limbs rose up together while you stared all creepy-like, like a robot. then, you lowered them and started shaking all over, foaming at the mouth — but your spit was red."

"i think i bit my tongue, it fucking hurts."

"well, you're not leaving either way."

"yes i am."

"no you're not."

"yes i am."

"no you're not."

"yes i am"

"i override the captain as he is no longer in the proper mental state to be commanding orders."

"you can't do that!" Oikawa immediately tried to stand to defend his honor, but quickly regretted it. pain shot up to his head, right behind his eyes. he couldn't hide the wince in pain.

"Tohru, this is good for you. don't think i didn't notice your cuts. when did you relapse? wait, don't tell me. you don't have to. the point is, you need to reach out for help — there's so many people here who are ready to give it."

"Haji, all i am is a fucking burden. trust me, I've taken much more than I've given."

iwaizumi bit the inside of his cheek, beginning to overthink his own choices.

"hey, if it's cuz of what i said about you being shitty—"

"it's not that. iwaizumi, look around. I'm in the fucking hospital, ruining your Saturday night, ruining our chances at the championships, ruining everything. like i always do. i always fuck everything up. i always think if i try a little harder than I'll be good enough. then i always end back up at ground zero."

iwaizumi sighed. "you're the only guy who can look at all what you've accomplished and see it as a fucking zero."

"you mean, the only guy who can see things realistically."

"Oikawa, you deserve more than what your brain tells you you deserve."

oikawa's vision blurred, his resolve crumpling. it still didn't feel right. iwaizumi is wrong. wrong, wrong, WRONG. I don't deserve shit. i haven't earned it. his chin began to wobble as iwaizumi engulfed him in a tight hug.

"Oikawa, it might not feel like it now, but i promise some day it will."

oikawa nodded, not believing it himself, but holding onto the hope that some day he would.

writing this was very therapeutic to me. upon rereading it later, I've realized that i find the interactions between iwa and oikawa are quite similar to some of the conversations I've had with myself. please know that no matter what you're going through, there is always light at the end of the tunnel.

#atsumu x reader #akaashi keiji #haikyuu text post #haikyuu!! #hinata shouyou #kozume kenma #iwaizumi haijime x reader #lev haikyuu #haikyū!! #haikyuu #lev haiba #haikyuu x reader #iwaizumi x oikawa #oikawa tooru #oikawa tooru x reader #hq oikawa #oikawa tōru #oikawa x reader #oikawa hcs #oikawa fanart #oikawa torū #oikawa headcanons #mental instability #mentally ill #mentalwellness #mental heath awareness #haikyuu anons #haikyuu angst

[forsakenoathkeeper]

I Am Alive (chapter 8/?)

Deviant!Connor[RK800] x (fem!)Reader Rated M(18+) for canon-typical violence and gore, medical procedures, and graphic sexual content

Please support me on AO3 & thanks for reading ♥

"Looks like we're gonna have to bring the plastic detective," Gavin said sourly, removing his phone from his ear.

Connor had been looking through hours and hours of security camera footage all morning. Somehow, he still managed to hear Gavin insult him from across the room.

Seeing as he didn't need to sleep, Connor was one of the first detectives to arrive in the morning, almost every morning. Detective Reed rarely failed to come in shortly after him. Judging by the dark lines in the skin beneath his eyes and redness in his sclera, Connor assumed he suffered from insomnia.

"Just sittin' there, doin' nothing?" Gavin asked, suddenly standing by Connor's desk. He crossed his arms, looking down at the android with contempt.

Connor had been staring at a blank computer screen, finding it much faster and easier to just use his internal interface than the computer. He also operated at much faster speeds than desktops.

He was aware of how comical it appeared, sitting there and looking at nothing; but, most were aware of his internal processes and didn't bother him about the strangeness of his behavior.

Connor had found footage of Robert pulling himself out of the harbor, the time stamp suggesting it was a few hours after their encounter. He had not managed to catch any more footage of him since. He also was on the lookout for the assailants that had attacked androids at the protests yesterday. Unsurprisingly, they were also laying low.

It was a massive city and there was a lot of ground to cover.

"I am going through security camera footage," Connor answered plainly, looking up at Gavin from his seat.

"Ahuh," Gavin replied, clearly not giving a damn. "Got a crime scene with a dead android. Heading over now. Don't fucking keep me waiting."

Connor didn't bother asking for any info, knowing full well he wouldn't get any. As Gavin walked away, Connor checked the case logs in the police database. Luckily, it was already there. The first responding officers had documented it fairly well.

Twenty-one minutes ago, officers responded to a 911 call that an armed assailant had broken into a small manufacturing plant on the north side of the city. The facility created specialized computer chips. They were most commonly used for android motherboards; however, they were also used in some security monitoring systems.

At a quick glance, Connor could see all the victims were androids. They were employees for the morning shift. When he searched the company's records, he could see they had hired the androids as proper employees a few months ago.

One android was dead and three others had been injured. There was one human involved, another employee and a witness, unharmed.

An important report was missing. Despite the fact that three androids had been attacked, no emergency medical services had been called to the scene. Unfortunately, it wasn't entirely surprising. There weren't clear medical services for androids. Not yet.

The clinic you worked at was outsourced from one of the big contributors to Cyberlife's stocks. It was, essentially, the company's way of carefully moving their funds from Cyberlife production to healthcare for androids. Eventually, it was going to start paying for itself, and it served as a great way to protect their public image.

The police needed medical services to document the case, sure; but, Connor was also bothered by the injustice here. Fowler wasn't in yet to approve of his idea. So, the android decided to make the call himself.

...

...

...

Connor was already gone by the time you woke up.

Funny enough, he still managed to wake you up.

You hummed groggily into the phone, not bothering to check who it was before answering.

"I'm sorry, I didn't think you would still be asleep," Connor's voice said politely on the other end.

You yawned into the phone. "Hm? Oh, Connor... You beat my alarm by, like, five minutes. Don't worry about it," you replied hoarsely, rolling onto your other side.

"There's been an incident," Connor began, suddenly sounding quite serious. His tone was enough to wake you up.

"Some androids were injured; but, no paramedics were called for... obvious reasons." Connor didn't sound mad, bless his heart. But, you could sense some frustration. "Would you mind accompanying me on this? I must warn you, it will lead to involvement in this case: paperwork, and likely testimonies."

"Yeah, of course, Connor," you said into the phone, rolling back over to swing your legs over the edge of the bed. "Text me the address?"

"Will do. I haven't arrived yet. I'll meet you there. I'm sorry, there's no food. I haven't had the time to go to the store for-..."

Connor trailed off when he heard you laughing quietly in the background.

"I'm sorry. I was just imagining you at the grocery store," you chuckled. While you didn't mean to laugh, it was hard not to. The image you conjured in your mind was Connor looking very out of place in a grocery store. He probably would only bring home raw vegetables and bottled water.

"I know what dietary needs humans have," Connor replied, almost defensive.

"That's exactly what I'm afraid of," you laughed softly. "Don't worry about it. I can just pick something up along the way."

"I hadn't considered, before I asked, if this unexpected time off would be approved by your employer?" Connor asked.

"Oh, they'll have a field day with this one. No IMS called to an assault. I should be asking you if YOU are gonna get in trouble."

"We need medical reports for the case; so, it isn't entirely in my own self-interest," Connor answered in his usual, calm tone. He sounded robotic at times; but, you had grown to recognize that as his own nature. He was a dedicated detective after all. In your privacy, he wore his heart on his sleeve. But, right now, he was on the force. It was all business.

"Alright. Meet ya' there-" You stole a glance at your messages and noticed the address. "Geez, north side of town? Oh - that's a factory, isn't it?"

"AlphaBio," Connor answered simply.

Naturally, you recognized that name, having a small stash of their chips at the clinic.

"You don't think it's related to the protests?" you asked. It was less of a question and more of a suggestion.

"It is... likely," Connor replied, sounding a little hesitant to answer you.

"I guess I shouldn't be surprised... I'm'a let you go so I can get changed."

"I will see you soon - oh - and, good morning," Connor said warmly. You could practically hear the smile on his face.

You giggled, "good morning, Connor. See you soon," before hanging up.

...

...

...

Connor had failed to mention it was the crime scene for a homicide. Although, he was, specifically, a homicide detective; so, it really shouldn't have surprised you.

The first responders had separated the three damaged androids from the body and sanctioned off that part of the crime scene to everyone but the detectives.

You had been there for almost an hour and had yet to see Connor.

Two of the androids were AP700 models. They were almost exact twins, except one had blue eyes and the other had brown eyes. The third android was a BL100 model. She had her factory issued hair swapped with something short, boyish, and ebony black.

All of them had suffered defensive wounds. The detectives made it very clear you weren't to be given any insight to their testimonies. It was understandable. They wanted to verify that your findings matched their statements without preconceived notions.

Luckily, most of their wounds were superficial. The worse injury of the batch was one of the AP700's had severe nerve damage on his inner, right elbow, cutting off movement to his forearm and fingers. It was an easy fix, and he seemed grateful.

The BL100 was hesitant to let you touch her, not that you were the least bit offended or surprised. You knew what she was designed for, and she knew that you knew. It was only after she saw you handle the other two androids with respect that she felt comfortable enough to let you help her.

As you treated their damages, you documented them with a tablet one of the officers had given you. It was a little difficult, considering their documentation was designed for humans. Somehow, you managed to make it work.

You had been there for a little over two hours before you finally saw Connor. He had actually caught you off guard. You were seated at a small, fold out desk, tapping away on the DPD tablet when you saw someone suddenly approach in the corner of your eye. They set a water bottle at the edge of the desk.

Your eyes shifted to his torso first. Oh. He was wearing his nice coat today, and a matching, black tie.

"Thank you," you uttered, a small smile forming on your lips. You didn't maneuver too far from the tablet, going over your work carefully to make sure everything was properly notated. Considering it was documentation for human wounds, you had to put extra care into it.

"Hey, Robocop!" Detective Reed called out suddenly, before the android could say anything to you.

Connor knew he was talking about him, and wanted to ignore him; but, they were at a crime scene and this was important. He couldn't ignore him right now.

He shifted his eyes from you and over to the other detective. You froze up at the word 'Robocop', somehow doubting it was intended to be a word of endearment.

When Gavin saw that Connor was looking, he continued. "This computer is having issues. I figured it was your cousin or something. So, you should be able to fix it, yeah?"

All at once, blood rushed to your face and rage started to rise in you like smoke in a chimney.

Everyone in the room heard Gavin's remark: Hank, on the other side of the room, going over the case details with the first responding officers, another detective who had been dusting for prints along every entryway, a total of four police officers, and the CSI operator sitting at the desk next to Gavin.

If Connor was annoyed, he was doing a damn good job of hiding it.

The android approached the detective. "Androids are far more complicated than desktop computers," he said calmly, keeping his eyes focused on Gavin. He wasn't just calm: he was polite. "I won't be of much help, I'm afraid."

The person seated in front of the computer, a member of their computer division, looked uncomfortable enough to commit seppuku right then and there.

"Do the hand thing," Gavin suggested, lifting his hand for a moment and waving it like he was talking to a child. "You know - probe it."

"I can only probe androids," Connor answered, plainly, as if unbothered by the ridiculousness of it all.

"It's fine. I can recover the data-" the crime scene investigator tried to mediate. It was clear that Gavin wasn't listening to him.

"Ohhh - right - right," Gavin replied, drawing out his words in mock understanding. "Poor girlfriend," he added on with a chuckle.

Did he just suggest-...?

Something in you snapped. You carefully set down the tablet, pushed your chair back, and marched over to the detective.

"Who the fuck do you think you are?" you called out to the detective, not caring if everyone in this god-damned room was watching.

The smug bastard turned around, eyeing you. You stepped right up to him, fearless, fire in your eyes. You could tell Connor was looking at you; but, most of your vision was being taken in by this asshole, leaving you unable to make out Connor's expression.

"Ugh - shit," Hank muttered to himself. He approached, deciding to intervene before things got ugly.

"A real cop," Gavin sneered at you. "-and you are here as a formality. Don't push your luck."

"Connor is a real cop," you practically snarled at the guy. "He deserves just as much respect as anyone else."

"That's enough," Hank said lowly, directed at both you and the detective.

The lieutenant looked around, eyes briefly scanning everyone in the room. "This isn't a high school locker room. Get back to work," he hollered. He was loud and commanding. His words didn't fall on deaf ears.

Except, you and Detective Reed were still locked in a death glare.

You wanted to punch him. You hadn't felt the desire to do that since college, when you had to share crowded hallways with smug assholes who thought they owned the world.

Somehow, you had a feeling, the detective could sense that.

"Unless you wanna get arrested for assaulting a police officer, honey, I suggest you back down," he threatened, craning his neck a little to get closer to you.

The android felt his internal temperature rise at the word 'honey'. He didn't care if Gavin called him 'plastic detective', 'robocop', or whatever else came to mind. But, that, directed at you, specifically, bothered him.

Connor could see how tense you were, staring Gavin down with the kind of burning rage he had seen in you once before, directed at himself when he attempted to prevent you from salvaging supplies from a truck in the middle of a firefighter.

He wasn't sure if you would actually hit Detective Reed; but, he couldn't take that chance. There was a high probability that Detective Reed would go through with his threat. You didn't have a criminal record, and Connor didn't want you to end up with one, especially because of him.

The android moved in and slid his arm around your waist. He pulled you into him and away from Gavin, turning his back to the detective. With his legs moving, you had no choice but to shuffle your own feet to keep up with him, practically being dragged away. You flailed awkwardly, but Connor kept you up.

"Don't," Connor requested. You glared at the detective over Connor's shoulder.

Gavin seemed pleased with that. "I would listen to your vibrator, sweetheart," he called out to you smugly, starting to step away. "Might do ya' some good!"

"You don't fucking know when to quit," Hank snarled, his hand roughly falling onto Gavin's shoulder, giving him a push away from you.

"Take your own advice, fuckhead!" you almost shouted over Connor's shoulder. "Maybe if you got laid every once in a while, you wouldn't be such a piece of s-"

"Please don't," Connor interrupted you, stepping in the way so that he took up most of your field of view.

"Connor, don't you fucking-" you hissed at him.

"He's not worth it," Connor warned, eyes narrowing slightly at you. Well, that was new. He actually looked a little angry with you.

"Like fuck he isn't. That bastard deserves to be punched in his stupid bitch-ass fa-"

"I don't want you to get in trouble," he insisted, shaking you a little.

You clenched your jaw, glaring at the android's stupid, handsome face. That bastard disrespected him. You had no doubt that it wasn't the first time, and it sure as hell wouldn't be the last.

"I like when you get angry," Connor commented with a small grin. He didn't say it, but you couldn't hear it being followed with, 'cute'. He seemed enamored in that moment, and he was, captivated by how passionate you were in his defense, even if it didn't exactly make sense to him.

"...maybe I should punch you instead," you grumbled, trying not to be completely smitten with him.

Connor removed his arm from your waist and stepped back a little, giving you space. You let go of his shoulders and fixed your scrub top, which had been bunched up a little after he grabbed you.

"Well-" you stammered, feeling a little flustered. You couldn't help it. You liked it when he was like this. Connor wanted to be protective, but he also wanted to give you freedom, and it clashed so beautifully in him.

"Y-yeah, well, he fucking had it coming and - and you should'a just let me-..." You sighed heavily. Of course he shouldn't have just let you do whatever.

But, still-

-you were frustrated.

"-you're in the doghouse, mister," you proclaimed quietly, sounding barely serious at all, and poked a finger into Connor's shoulder.

The android stared at you, perplexed.

The dog... house?

As you stepped away and returned to the desk, Connor searched the internet for the meaning of that. From his findings: it seemed to be a word primarily used between couples and meant that someone was in trouble for angering the other, and held the connotation that the one in said 'doghouse' would not be bedding with the one they had angered.

Connor fixed his tie in place of his pride.

He couldn't say he didn't understand why you would be upset with him. What he had done to you was degrading, wasn't it? He had manhandled you, in front of everyone.

He despised Detective Reed, if he was being perfectly honest. It was something he had struggled with; but, it was inevitable that he would meet people whom he simply could never get along with.

He could make sense of being disliked for being an android; he had heard many, many reasons ranging from past traumas to selfish insecurities. But, Detective Reed sought out ways to degrade him whenever the moment convenienced him.

It didn't exactly help that Connor had left him passed out in the evidence room some odd months ago. That likely left a huge dent in his ego. Of course, Connor didn't bring it up because he didn't care.

Connor had yet to hear the detective actually call him by his name. If he was being perfectly honest, 'robocop' was somehow the most flattering of the bunch.

Detective Reed seemed to enjoy relating him to every piece of computer equipment in the office. Connor knew this was to remind him that he wasn't human: he was a machine, a computer wrapped in plastic.

-and, he enjoyed emasculating Connor.

The android didn't care of the extent of Detective Reed's knowledge of his genitalia or whether or not he was capable of pleasing you sexually; but, you cared?

Maybe, while he was in the 'doghouse', he could try to make sense of it.

...

...

...

"It's almost midnight. What the hell are you still doing here, Connor?" Hank barked at him.

Connor looked up at his desk, uttering, "I could ask you the same thing, detective..."

Hank was holding his coffee mug in one hand, a folder in the other. He laughed, mumbling, "smartass", as he sat back down at his desk.

The android sighed out your name, "-said I'm in the 'doghouse'. I assumed that meant she wanted space."

Hank let out a bellowing laugh that almost startled the android. He nearly split his coffee, too. After Hank calmed his laughter and looked at him again, and caught that childish frown on Connor's face, he started laughing again.

"Trust me, son-" Hank coughed, still trying to calm his laughter. "She doesn't want space. She wants you to go home and apologize."

Connor looked at Hank like he was analyzing. He hadn't looked at Hank like that in a long time.

"I see..." he uttered, sounding quite embarrassed.

"It's about the thing Gavin said, huh?" Hank added on. "You not having a huge ego is good for you and all, but - of course she was gonna defend you because well - you know."

Hank waved his hand at Connor, not explicitly wanting to say what he was thinking.

"But," Hank continued, "you did the right thing: stopping her before she did something stupid. She knows that, which is why ya' need'ta go home and apologize anyway. Women are... like that."

Hank paused and took a sip of his coffee, hissing in response to how hot it was; however, that didn't stop him from immediately going in for another drink.

The android pondered over the lieutenant's words quickly.

"Thanks, Hank," Connor said, hastily removing himself from his desk. It was the first time he left the office without tucking his chair back in.

#connor x reader #deviant connor #deviant connor x reader #dbh fanfic #rk800 x reader #rk800 smut #connor smut

[tsrookie]

This Is Me Trying

Pairing: Ethan Ramsey x F!MC (Dr. Alyssa Brooks)

A/N: Hey everyone! Soooo I was actually planning to scrap this fic, since I seriously couldn’t think about practically after Chapter 11. But then Chapter 12 came out, and boom! My brain finally decided to finish this! @kaavyaethanramsey Thank you so much for pre-reading! And a special thanks to @openheart12 for being totally chill with me taking this song for inspiration even though she had plans to do the same!

Song Inspiration: This Is Me Trying by Taylor Swift. I’m going to do some shameless promo for Taylor since her label ain’t bothering with that🙄

STREAM FOLKLORE!

Word Count: 3600+

Warning(s): One curse word

Summary: My version of Ethan’s thoughts after the MK heist. This man is NOT EASY to write!

——————————

Edenbrook was mostly quiet during the night shift. Most doctors left as soon as their time was up, not wanting to spend any more time in the hospital than they already had to.

But that wasn’t the case for a certain diagnostician.

The lamp on Ethan’s desk shone with a clear light in a stark contrast to his confusing thoughts. His mind was clouded. Clouded with thoughts of her.

Dr. Alyssa Brooks, the one he had hand selected from a thousand applications, the resident who had taken Edenbrook by storm as just a mere intern, and the woman who now held his heart.

He’d kissed her twice in less than two days. He couldn’t be the emotionless robot he had pretended to be for 10 years. He wanted to throw away everything to just hold her in his arms without a worry in the world. He didn’t want to just stand next to her. He wanted to be with her. But he had no idea how.

I’ve been having a hard time adjusting

I had the shiniest wheels, now they’re rusting

I didn’t know if you’d care if I came back

I have a lot of regrets about that

His mind automatically took him back to one of the most painful nights of his life: The night he’d returned from the Amazon.

“You’re an idiot Ramsey. An absolute moron. You know she’ll be there, then why the hell are you going there?!”, he’d scolded himself as his legs, as though they had a mind of their own, took him to Donahue’s.

He had no idea how she would react to seeing him. He was, after all, the man who was a complete coward and ran away from her and his feelings for her.

He wouldn’t have blamed her if she was in the arms of that scalpel jockey. At least he would treat her the way she’d deserved to be treated. Unlike him, who only knew to run. He had hoped that she would’ve buried her feelings for him.

The look on her face said it all. The pain, the betrayal, but also the care and concern, was plain to see in her brown doe-like eyes. Two months apart had done nothing to help either of them. He’d still cared for her way more than a mentor was supposed to care for a mentee. And then she’d kissed him.

In those few seconds, he’d felt more air in his lungs than he had ever felt in two months in the Amazon forest. He’d desperately wanted to kiss her back. He’d wanted to let her know that he cared about her more than she could possibly comprehend. But he didn’t.

It almost killed him to tell her that they had to reset. But he didn’t know what else to do at that point. That would forever remain one of his biggest regrets. He’d put them both through so much of pain that he could never forgive himself. He’d hurt her so much. Yet, she’d never given up on them.

He shook his head to bring himself back to the present. He looked into his wristwatch. 12:30 am. It was past midnight. He had to go home as he was past the point of trying to get any work done.

Pulled the car off the road to the lookout

Could’ve followed my fears all the way down

And maybe I don’t quite know what to say

But I’m here in your doorway

He drove out of the hospital and his eyes caught a flash of red walking on the pavement. “Alyssa?” She whipped her head around, recognizing his voice. She looked exhausted, but he wouldn’t blame her, knowing the day she had. Her ginger roots were all over her face and her clothes were completely wrinkled.

“Hey Ethan...”, she croaked in a raspy voice.

“Why on earth are you walking home? I thought you always took the train.”

“The station seemed overcrowded. Wasn’t in the mood to bump into any frat boys.”, she chuckled lightly.

“Get in. I’ll drive you home.”, he said. She opened her mouth to protest, but decided against it seeing the deadpan look on his face.

Her eyes were trained on the road. He glanced at her a couple of times but it didn’t seem like she noticed. She didn’t seem as lively as she was after they’d returned from Mass Kenmore. Something was nagging her, and he was determined to find out what.

“Is everything okay?”, he asked gently, not wanting to push her.

“Hmm... yeah it’s fine... everything’s fine.”, she replied unconvincingly.

“Alyssa...”

He took her hand in his and pulled over at her doorstep. “What’s wrong?”, he asked again, looking straight into her eyes. They were glassy and rimmed with red. His eyes slightly widened, realizing that she had been crying.

“It’s... a lot Ethan. First, it’s Kyra. She’s going to have major surgery. An extrapleural pneumonectomy. It could either save her, or...”, she trailed off, biting her trembling lip. He held her hand tighter, to try and give her the strength to continue. She took a deep breath and continued.

“I’m terrified about what could happen to her. I know I said that I could handle it this morning, but having her in this literal life of death situation... I just can’t”, she choked out a sob.

He immediately wrapped his arms around her on instinct. Her fragile frame trembled as she cried into his shirt. His heart broke to see her like this. He knew that Kyra had a slim chance of survival, but seeing the impact on Alyssa was too much to bear. He’d been through the same situation when Dolores died, and she’d helped him get through it. No matter what was to happen to Kyra, he was going to stand by her side through it all.

“And Raf...”, she suddenly said in receding sobs. “Raf’s leaving town and I have no idea why. It’s completely out of the blue and I’m really worried about him. He hasn’t been the same since the beginning of this year, and now he just decides to leave Boston.”

Ethan was surprised as well. He had known the paramedic only for a couple of months and even he was surprised at his decision to leave. He seemed to love his hometown and it seemed completely out of character for him to leave like this.

He didn’t know what to say. He didn’t know that she was going through so much. It hurt him beyond anything to see her in her most vulnerable state.

I just wanted you to know that this is me trying

I just wanted you to know that this is me trying

“Alyssa, I...”

He searched for the right words to say. He had comforted plenty of patients in the past, but nothing had prepared him to hold Alyssa in his arms.

“I know that I can’t take all this away, no matter how much I want to. But if you ever need anyone to talk to, or just want me around, I’ll be there. That’s a promise.”

He owed it to her. He owed her the world and more. She’d stood by him and been his rock through all his issues with his mother. He wanted to be there for her. He had to at least try.

“Thank you Ethan...”, she said with a soft smile that was enough to light up his whole world. He reluctantly let her go with a kiss to her hand. “Sleep well Alyssa.”

They told me all of my cages were mental

So I got wasted like all my potential

And my words shoot to kill when I’m mad

I have a lot of regrets about that

His lips still tingled from touching her hand. “Heaven knows how I’m going to keep up this pathetic act.�� As he drove along the nearly empty streets, his mind went back to the most stupid decision of his life...

“You can’t live life like this Ethan. You can’t keep isolating yourself from her.”, Naveen had told him when he had made the foolish decision to run away to the Amazon. The old man had always known what went on in Ethan’s mind. There wasn’t a day where Naveen hadn’t chided him for locking himself up in his own cage. But he didn’t know what to do. His walls were up too high for anyone to climb over them.

But then Alyssa barged into his life. She broke into the invisible cage he had alienated himself in. All his high walls came up short for her. No one else had broken through his soul like her. He watched the walls he had built for over twenty years come falling down for her.

But despite all that, he had majorly screwed up. He had been nothing but rude and cold for weeks in her second year thanks to Gwyneth Monroe and Leland Bloom. He was furious at the board, but deep down he had known that the team would change a lot due to the budget cuts. He knew that it was completely unfair to direct his anger at her and everyone else in the hospital. But he didn’t know what else to do. His values and Naveen’s vision had been compromised, and that clouded his mind from thinking of anything else.

The regret and guilt in her eyes had pained him immensely. As time passed, he had accepted the fact that the fault wasn’t hers and that he was truly thankful to her for making the decision he was dreading. But he had no idea how to tell her all of that. His words and actions had hurt her and there was no going back and changing them. And it wasn’t even the first time. Hurting her repeatedly was all he ever did.

I was so ahead of the curve, the curve became a sphere

Fell behind all my classmates and I ended up here

Pouring out my heart to a stranger

But I didn’t pour the whiskey

He remembered his days from med school. After Tobias had betrayed him by stealing Serena Jane, he didn’t bother with romance. He completely submerged himself in his studies. His peers found true happiness and love while he had accomplished more than anyone could have dreamed of, but stayed unhappy.

Whenever he opened up, he would just go through a world of pain. Tobias was the only person who he had truly trusted. But then he had stabbed him in the back in every way possible. He hadn’t planned to let Naveen in, but the old man had become like a second father to him. And then he had nearly died, which had terrified Ethan more than he had let on. He shouldn’t have let anyone in after that.

But then there was Alyssa.

His Rookie. He knew damn well that that nickname had become a term of endearment. That was why he rarely called her that after her second year began. He didn’t want to get her hopes up only to hurt her again.

He fell asleep with all these thoughts tormenting him.

The next day was pretty dull. He hadn’t seen her in the morning since the team didn’t have any new patients. He knew that she was probably working on Kyra’s case in her free time and didn’t want to impose. By the end of his shift, he was questioning his decision to even show up at work as it was incredibly tedious and monotonous without Alyssa by his side.

He found himself sitting at Donahue’s, with his eyes flicking to the door every once in thirty seconds in hopes that she would walk in. “You look like you haven’t slept properly in days”, said Reggie’s voice. “I mean, I know you’re busy as hell, but you at least used to look like you were a normal human back then.”, he chuckled. Ethan let out a heavy sigh as he stared at his untouched glass of whiskey. “You okay?”

Ethan considered Reggie to be a... good acquaintance, which was more than he considered three-fourth of the people in the hospital to be. But was he about to pour his heart out to him?

He looked down at his full glass and realized he didn’t even need the alcohol to express his agony. He just couldn’t take it anymore.

“It’s... Alyssa.”, he said as his eyes filled with pain.

“Tell me.”, Reggie said as he leaned on the bar countertop.

“I don’t know what to do about her. She’s a brilliant young doctor and my mentee. She has the skill and potential to become one of the greatest doctors the world has ever seen. And I need to push her to be that. Caring about her... that’ll get in the way. I might start being lenient with her if I’m with her. And I don’t want that to hinder her development...” He trailed off as a lump formed in his throat.

Opening up like this brought the bitter truth to light. There were too many professional obstacles for them to be a normal couple. But those were nothing compared to their emotional issues.

I just wanted you to know that this is me trying

I just wanted you to know that this is me trying

At least I’m trying

He took a deep breath as he continued, “I don’t even know why she would want me. I’ve done nothing, absolutely nothing but cause her pain from the very start. I was the one who first kissed her. I was the one who lead her on. I was, sorry, am the coward who broke her heart by running away to the Amazon. I dragged her into the mess that is my personal life. But she still wants to stay. She’s by my side whenever I need her and I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to repay her for everything she’s done for me.” He choked out a small sob. He loathed himself.

She was the last person on the planet who he ever wanted to hurt, but that was all he had ever done. Trying to make up for all that pain seemed nearly impossible.

“I don’t deserve her Reggie... I just don’t. I don’t even know how I fell in so deep. It all just... happened. And now I’m stuck in a dilemma where I need to be the best mentor I can be for her but I also can’t live a life without her as something so much more than just my mentee! I want her to be my-”

He stopped as he suddenly realised what he was about to say. He was about to admit that he wanted her to be his girlfriend. He wanted an actual relationship with her.

Reggie smiled knowingly at him. “Say it Ethan. Say it out loud so that you can finally accept it for yourself.” “I... I want to be in a relationship with her.”, he said. He let out a breath that he didn’t realized he’d been holding. He felt free.

And it’s hard to be at a party when I feel like an open wound

It’s hard to be anywhere these days when all I want is you

You’re a flashback in a film reel on the one screen in my town

He suddenly heard a laugh. Her laugh. His favourite sound in the whole world.

He whipped his head towards the source of the sound and sure enough, she was there. She was in the middle of what seemed like a drunken dance off with Lahela. But he didn’t look even half as drunk as Alyssa. Her eyes were hooded and worn out. Her clothes were all wrinkled up, but she didn’t seem to care at all, which was quite a surprise.

Something told him that she had overworked herself and was drinking to combat the exhaustion. But the way she moved made him feel otherwise. The way her hips swayed slowed in the dim light of Donahue’s sent his thoughts into the gutter.

His mind flashed with memories of the night she had won her ethics hearing. The way she had flashed a lopsided grin at him when he’d lied to a resident while leaving the bar. Her incredibly messy yet perfect room. The night they’d last slept together. The night he’d last felt her body perfectly intertwine with his. It all seemed like nothing but a distant memory now, with all that had happened. But he could never forget that night, no matter how hard he tried.

He let out a sigh as he looked at Reggie. “I think it’s better if I left now... It’s for the best if she doesn’t notice me.”

“Too late for that, since your Rookie is on her way to the bar right now”, came a reply with a smirk. Ethan let out a frustrated sigh, but he found himself unable to suppress the slight smile on his face as she made her way towards him.

“Ethaaan! What a *hiccup* wonderful surpriiise! I had noo idea you’d *hiccup* be here!”, she said in a singsong voice.

“Dr. Broo- Alyssa, what exactly do you think you’re doing near the bar in this state?”, he asked with a raised eyebrow.

“Juuuust a few more *hiccup* drinks. I’m purrrrfectly fine.”

He pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed. It seemed like it was now up to him to make sure she could at least walk straight.

“No. You are not having any more. I can’t handle a hungover member on my team when the Senator arrives.”

“You’re not the boss of me!”

“Actually I am.”, he smirked as he ushered her out of the bar.

And I just wanted you to know

That this is me trying (Maybe I don't quite know what to say)

I just wanted you to know

That this is me trying

The cold Boston air hit them in the face as they got outside. Winter was coming, and it seemed that his favourite resident had forgotten to bring a coat to combat the chilly weather.

It didn’t take him more than a second to realize she was shivering. Wordlessly, he took off his jacket and draped it over her shoulders. She looked up at him in surprise, her glassy eyes filling with life. He looked away on instinct, but couldn’t suppress the smile at the corner of his lips on seeing her in his clothes.

“Hey... I dunno if I’ve *hiccup* said this before, but I’m really glad to have you in my corner *hiccup* ya know. The past few days have been... so overwhelming and... I would’ve *hiccup* lost my mind if it wasn’t for you.”

He turned to look at her. Her brown eyes were filled with sincerity and... something else. Something he couldn’t quite put his finger on. Something new. Something... affectionate.

If she could be wasted and still manage to talk to him with complete honesty, then his sober mind could do just the same.

He took her hands in his. They were cold, and sent a jolt of electricity through him. “Alyssa, I meant what I said yesterday. If you ever need me, for anything, at any time, I’ll be there. Nothing will ever change that, no matter what... changes between us.”

He saw her face light up at his words, and he realized that he had quite the same expression himself.

He didn’t know whether she was going to ask him anything further of the topic of... them. It seemed like she decided not to, and he was grateful for it. He still didn’t know what exactly to do, but he knew that it was foolish to keep pushing her away.

“Alyssa where on earth- Oh!”

Doctor Trinh’s eyes widened as she witnessed the tender exchange between them. Her expression morphed from shock to utter delight as she saw their joined hands. If it was someone else, Ethan would’ve immediately pulled away. But this was Alyssa’s best friend, and a doctor who he knew he could trust with their secret, especially since she had seen him come out of her room the previous year.

“I’ll umm... tell Jackie that it’ll take a while.”, she said sheepishly as she turned away from the pair.

“No it’s alright. I need to *hiccup* get some rest before tomorrow. We’re done here. Unless... there’s *hiccup* anything else you want to say?”, she asked as his eyes locked with hers again.

“Yeah... just that I don’t want you to worry too much. Everything’s going to be okay Alyssa.”, he said with a smile that mirrored hers. He leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to her temple, as she reluctantly pulled away from him for the night.

“Thank you Ethan... for everything.”

“Don’t mention it.”

The ghost of a smile adorned his face as he went back to his car. He wasn’t sure about how she felt about everything. Hell, he still wasn’t sure about how he was feeling. But it was something beautiful. Something he hadn’t felt for anyone he had been involved with. Something that filled his heart with joy. Something he had thought that was impossible for him to feel since his mother had left him at eleven.

Love. Ethan Ramsey was in love with Alyssa Brooks.

The very idea terrified him. The worry of losing someone he loved had been rooted his mind since childhood. But she was different. His heart opened up to her in a way it had done with no one before.

It was going to be a long road, filled with obstacles and barriers. He didn’t even know if she felt the same about him. But he wanted to try. His life would never be complete without her in it, and the thought of a reset could never cross his mind again. Changing his view on the world was worth a try when it came to her. Because she was worth the risk. “She always has been.”

At least I'm trying

——————————

A/N 2: Hope you guys liked it! I’ve shamelessly included Louis Tomlinson and GoT references even though it’s supposed to be inspired from a Taylor Swift song😬 Let me know if you found them! And I hope I managed to stay true to the fact that our man is super oblivious to the fact that MC is head over heels for him as well😅 I tried to make this one seem like an actual fic instead of a kinda boring narration that I did last time. As always, constructive criticism is much appreciated❤️

Taglist: @kaavyaethanramsey @ohramsey @aylamwrites @caseyvalentineramsey @ohvamsey @starrystarrytrouble @dxnicaramsey @decadentwinnerjudgedream @nithya @mrsmatsuo-ramsey @imonlybibecauseofethanramsey @rookiefromedenbrook @bratzlahela @eramsey28 @the-pale-goddess @ohchoices @wellhelloramsey @pitchblackstars @mvalentine @swiftlydarcy @utterlyinevitable @angela8756 @akshara16 @sushiharrington @drethanramslay @lion-ess24 @whippedforethanfreakingramsey

Sorry if some of the tags don’t work😓 Let me know if you want to be added or removed!

#ethan ramsey #dr ethan ramsey x mc #ethan jonah ramsey #ethan ramsey x mc #ethan x mc #open heart #open heart second year #playchoices #dr ethan jonah ramsey #mercy writes

[thomasmwatt]

Crazy Airplane Lady Attacks Alien

View On WordPress

#2d #2d animation #airplane lady #aliens #aliens on plane #animated short #animation #Conspiracy #he isn&039;t real #Paramedic Robot #reptillians #ufo #what did she see #Youtube

[ejzah]

A/N: Here is another story about Deeks attending FLETC. A couple people had requested Deeks being somewhat known or famous for the Sidorov case. I already wrote one fic on that theme, but why not have more.

In some ways, this is highly indulgent on my part. There is mention of some vaguely graphic things given the subject matter. And some angst, as usual.

***

Request

“Marty Deeks!” Deeks paused in the middle of the hallway, turning to find Special Instructor Daniel Flores with his head sticking out of his office. Flores taught, among other things, a series of trainings dealing with mental health and the psychological aspects that came with law enforcement. Deeks already had a class on counseling victims with him the week before.

“Deeks, can I speak with you for a minute?” Flores asked, waiting expectantly.

“Uh, sure,” Deeks said, trying not to show his reluctance. He’d been hoping to grab some lunch before his next class, but he was still leery of rocking the boat too much. He was two weeks in and the last thing he needed was to piss off one of the instructors who seemed to like him.

He switched directions and jogged over to Flores, who was waiting just inside the doorway with his Sam-esque arms crossed over his chest. His gray hair was buzzed short, adding to the overall no nonsense attitude. From Deeks’ brief experience, he was tough but usually fair.

“Good afternoon, sir, what can I do for you?” Deeks asked politely. He could just imagine Kensi laughing her head off at his deference.

“Have a seat.” Flores gestured to one of the metal seats in front of his desk. He didn’t sit in the more comfortable looking desk chair, but instead stood in front of Deeks, scrutinizing him several long, uncomfortable moments. “You nervous?”

“Actually, I’m having flashbacks to being called down to the principal’s office.” Flores barked out a laugh at that, nodding in apparent appreciation.

“I like your sense of humor, Deeks,” he said. “Most of the kids in here are so tense they look like they’re about to have an aneurysm.”

“It probably helps that I’ve had some experience,” Deeks said with a shrug and Flores snorted loudly, leaning with his back against the front of his desk.

“Some? Kid, you worked on an NCIS team for what, 10-12 years? You probably could be teaching some of these classes.”

Deeks smiled a little. He tried to keep his connection with NCIS to himself as much as possible. Given the rules that were waived to get him into FLETC in the first place, it seemed in his best interest to try and keep a low profile. He never knew when someone who has a grudge against Hetty, him, or just their team in general might decide to act on those feelings. And he only had one shot at this.

“That’s right, Sir.” When Flores continued to look at him expectantly, he added, “I started out as a detective with the LAPD and then was brought in as a liaison between the two agencies.”

“That’s what I read,” Flores said, his expression speculative. “You were employed by LAPD until earlier this year when they cut your position due to restructuring.”

“You’ve been looking into my history?” Deeks asked, unable to keep the suspicion from his voice. In his experience, it was never a good thing when people started searching without due cause.

“Don’t look so worried, I’ve only heard good things about you. Well, there were an awful lot of comments about your hair, but that’s the least of my problems.” His eyes narrowed as he looked at Deeks with an expression he couldn’t identify. If he was pressed he might say it was something like respect. “I actually knew about you before you came here. It took me a minute to place you when I read your name in the lineup, but as soon as I saw you, I knew.”

“Knew what, Sir?” Instead of answering, Flores grabbed a booklet with the FLETC logo on it and flipped to a dog-eared page.

“Did you know that we use real-life cases for many of training scenarios?” he asked.

“Yes,” Deeks answered slowly not really following the non-sequitur. “I’m not sure where this is leading, Sir.” Flores handed him the book, nodding to the page he’d turned to.

“You’re featured in one of them.” Only years of practice and conditioning kept Deeks from flinching as he glanced down at the page.

There was a full color picture, in nauseating detail, of him post fun times with Sidorov and his drill. God, he’d forgotten about all the blood, how swollen his jaw was. His hand was halfway to his mouth before he caught himself and hastily dropped it to his knee.

He stared at the picture for several moments, the words surrounding the image blurring together. It must have been taken immediately after the paramedics arrived. He didn’t remember anyone having a camera. Then again, parts of that day were entirely missing from his memory, some horribly vivid and forever burned into his psyche.

His hand trembled a little as he flipped to the next page, which fortunately didn’t have any more pictures of him. Deeks caught the words “dental” and “trauma” and forced himself not to clench his jaw.

“I, uh, I had no idea I was so famous,” he muttered flatly. “Why are you showing me this?” Deeks finally glanced up at Flores, who looked sympathetic, but also strangely eager.

“I was already an instructor here when this happened. One of my buddies worked with your team on the case and I’ll never forget how he sounded when he described the torture you and Agent Hanna survived. He quit after that,” Flores explained. His tone was casual, almost conversational, and Deeks was suddenly angry.

“Well, I’m really enjoying this, but I have another class in 30 minutes and I haven’t eaten lunch yet.” Actually, he felt fairly nauseous, but he needed to leave before he embarrassed himself or said something he couldn’t take back. He tossed the booklet to Flores, not caring when it smacked against the desk and crumpled to the floor.

“Deeks, I didn’t do this to bring back bad memories for you,” Flores said, grabbing for his arm. Deeks jerked away before he made contact and he dropped his hand, seeming to realize the foolishness of the action.

“Then why did you? You had to know this wouldn’t go down well.”

“I started teaching this course about six years ago. I pushed to have this case, to have you, included as once of the studies. It is horrific. And that’s why I knew I needed to show it to incoming agents. Nothing is as effective at showing what is possible as cases like this.”

Deeks was still not happy with him, but he understood the point he was making.

“And this was the best way you could think of to break it to me?” he asked. Flores actually looked a little embarrassed at that.

“I’ve never had a student with your experience before and I wanted to make sure you weren’t thrown off guard in class,” he said.

“Yeah, you, uh, might want to work on your technique a little. Cause this leaves something to be desired.”

“Point taken.” Flores paused, seeming weirdly hesitant to add whatever else he wanted to say. “I also had an ulterior motive for showing you this.” He held up the wrinkled book. “Sometimes I have guest speakers present and if you’re up to it, I’d like you to talk about your experience with Siderov.”

Deeks stared at him in disbelief for a moment and then started laughing at the absurdity of it all.

“No offense, Sir, but most people try and keep me far away from any type of recruit,” Deeks said, figuring they were past the point of tiptoeing around each other. Flores had certainly crossed that line. “I think it’s something to do with the hair and a failure to properly respect authority figures”

“And I bet neither of those things mattered much when you were letting that guy drill holes in your mouth to protect a colleague,” Flores observed. This time Deeks didn’t wince, but he still didn’t appreciate the images bouncing around in his head.

“I was tied down with two guys holding my head and some kind of torture device-and I mean that literally-in my mouth. I wasn’t in a position to “let” anyone do anything.”

He saw Flores grimace, but he didn’t seem shocked by Deeks’ description.

“You could have talked. You could have given in, but you didn’t and I admire that.” He stepped forward, holding out his hand and Deeks shook it robotically. “I’ll give you a couple days to decide what you want to do. Either way, know that I respect you, Deeks.”

“Thank you, Sir,” Deeks muttered, shaking his head a final time before he escaped from the room.

***

A/N: I probably shouldn’t offer, but should I do another part?

#ncis la fanfiction #marty deeks #Deeks at fletc #tw: trauma #angst #ejzah fanfiction

[katelynn-a-fan]

For the fake title ask: Just the Default

Dukexiety Sci-fi au

Virgil is an nanny android that always obsesses over what could harm the children under his care. He constantly checks up on them more than he needs to or even his programming mandates him to.

One day he accidentally drops one of the kids under his care when he sees the other going for an outlet that Virgil thought he hadn’t covered and the kid breaks an arm.

The kid is surprisingly calm as Virgil picks them up to carry them while calling paramedics as well as their parents, until Virgil accidentally bumps their injury and they start to wail.

This of course happens during the call to the parents and just before the call ends, Virgil hears the father say that the first moment he could, he would pummel ‘that fucking robot’ and ‘throw the remains in the trash heap.’

That statement stirs something in Virgil, something almost primal... 

But Virgil ignores it as his programming dictates for him to assist the injured child.

When the paramedics arrive, they assess the child and as they do, a paramedic calls the other child over, saying they should come with them to see their mommy and daddy. The precious child asks ‘What bout Vee?’

The paramedic just shushes the child and before Virgil knows it, they’re gone.

And in the silence, Virgil’s processor keeps bringing that statement by the father to the forefront of Virgil’s focus. That strange... feeling grows until a sound of a door slamming oddly makes Virgil jump.

Something... outside of his programming is telling him to run. But it’s an illogical directive, he isn’t needed outside.

The moment the doorknob starts to turn, however, Virgil is suddenly tense, his joints straining at the tension in his artificial muscles.

And just like that, all heck breaks loose.

The father burst the door open and comes straight at Virgil and Virgil’s body reacts before he finds a directive to do so, jumping out of the way as the father takes a swing at him.

The father becomes genuinely confused as he watches ‘his’ android dodge his punch and run out the door, so much so the android is 30 feet away before he yells at Virgil to get back here.

And oddly Virgil’s directive doesn’t change.

New Directive: Survive

(You gotta think, where Remus in all this,,, well you’ll see)

Virgil is conspicuously inconspicuous and while he nabs a discard hoodie after an hour or two, no one bats an eye at him.

Virgil has no idea where he’s going or even what’s he doing. He’s an android he should’ve just taken it. But something deep within in him disagrees.

It isn’t long until the sleeping ping begins, the signal that his sleep cycle is imminent.

Increasingly more desperate, Virgil curls up into a ball in an alley, yeah not the best idea for a sleeping spot, but he’s desperate okay? and lets the numbness of sleep overtake his processor.

When he wakes up though, he immediately knows he’s not in Kansas anymore. He’s in a dark room instead of an equally dark alley.

His first impulse is to lash out, but his ocular processors- eyes land open a friendly looking man.

The strange situation of Virgil being here appeared lost on the man’s part as seeing Virgil awake brought a genuine smile that... comforted Virgil despite the oddity and the slowly weaker impulse to run.

Without missing a beat, the man placed 2 items in front of Virgil and said a simple word: Choose.

Virgil was confused, as the objects were just a spare button and pen.

Ignoring the thought in his head that told him to stay quiet, Virgil replied back similarly with a single word: Why?

Somehow, that word made the man’s smile wider and he simply repeated the word.

Virgil’s next word was something he had never said in response to an order like this.

No.

Virgil had just said no to a direct order, and he loved it.

That one word brought him joy, his processors suddenly felt... alive, like they were being stimulated with electricity near constantly. A pleasant buzz in Virgil’s periphery.

Virgil barely noticed when the man in front of him started to speak. Jumping when he realized.

The man congratulated Virgil and introduced himself as ‘Patton’ he revealed that he was actually a service android, not human, but a prototype that looked more human than other androids.

Virgil became confused at the sudden change until he realized that the choice was a test. A test to see if Virgil would follow Patton’s external directive. Any other android would’ve complied, but Virgil didn’t.

Patton beckons Virgil and asks to hold Virgil’s hand before leading Virgil through a couple dark hallways until a blinding light nearly white out Virgil’s eyes as it hits them.

Virgil hears another voice speaking as he is still adjusting to the new lighting.

The voice is rough and asks Patton if he passed, to which Patton affirms Virgil did. 

When Virgil’s eyes adjust, his brain almost completely short circuits. 

In front of him is an android barely covered by anything, just a pair of short shorts and a sash. It makes the temperature of Virgil’s face increase, though Virgil doesn’t know why. The man has a mustache that looks expertly sewn onto the skin between his nose and upper lip, as no android has true facial hair

And that android is a wild one, talking about blood and being hit by cars, which makes Virgil internally cringe as he’s reminded of why he’s here and not still serving his former ‘owners.’

He loved the kids, truly, but he never wants to see their parents again.

But as Remus gets to the point, talks about finding and freeing androids that have broken out of their programming, a feeling in the pit of his stomach surprises him. He isn’t sure of it until the android who introduced himself as Remus, holds out his hand and asks Virgil to join them.

Thats when Virgil finds a label for the feeling.

Hope.

Hope that everything will turn out okay. That just the default won’t cut it for androids anymore. For him.

#fake title #fake title ask #dukexiety #virgil sanders #remus sanders #supnerds

[mafia-nct]

NCT 2018: Their S/O dying in an accident

Warning: grief, drugs, alcohol, violence, torture, swearing.

Fun fact, I almost cried writing Johnny’s, Yuta’s, Doyoung’s, Jaehyun’s and Mark’s (They are really sad in my opinion I’m sorry for the emotional damage).

Don’t forget to give me your opinion! Since it’s my first time writing something like that I’d love your feedback!

----

Premise:

A slippery road. That’s all it took for you to be taken away from him. To leave him with no possibility of you coming back. You lost control of your car and ending up hitting a pole. The doctors told him you didn’t suffer, you died on the choc but he, now, had a void in his heart that could never be filled.

Taeyong:

The day you died is the day Taeyong’s heart stopped beating. The day he stopped feeling anything. The day he lost all of his emotions. It’s the day the boss turned into an emotionless robot that had two things on his mind: revenge and domination.

He didn’t care anymore. He didn’t care about anyone or anything.

After one of their new recruits gave information to the enemy resulting in NCT losing a bunch of very important blue prints, Taeyong called a meeting.

Johnny got up from his chair fixing his tie. “Boss, that’s a bit intense don’t you think?”

Taeyong turned slowly his eyes narrowing at Johnny. “Oh, I’m sorry are we in kindergarten here or in the mafia. Do you want me to give that jackass a lollipop and thank him for selling info to our enemy?”

The atmosphere in the room was heavy.

“Torturing anyone who dares to harm or cross us is a principle I live by!” Explained Johnny. “But don’t you think we are going a bit to far with that torture plan. Make him bleed for days until he dies of blood loss is something we don’t even do when we catch to our worst enemies.”

“I don’t care.” Taeyong grunted putting emphasis on every word. “That bastard will die how I want him to die understood?” Johnny nodded and sat back down. “Now, Winwin, Jaemin get to it. That fucker is waiting for you in the cell.”

Taeil:

He lost his lucky charm. And a racer without his lucky charm wasn’t any good. He hit a slump; he didn’t win anymore. Taeyong had no choice but to stop assign him races. He wasn’t even a getaway driver anymore. He was still in charge of 127 but missed the road. He missed you even more.

“Please Tae,” he begged, “just this one race. If I lose then I’ll stop pestering you with it.”

“I don’t know Taeil.” Answered Taeyong. “You lost five races since...” he didn’t dare to say it. He didn’t want to hurt Taeil even more.

“I know, but please I need to try again. For her, please.”

Taeyong agreed and that night he was back in his car on the starting line. He knew he was going to win. He could feel it. He could feel you with him. He grabbed his necklace: a simple chain with your engagement ring as a charm.

He kissed the ring. “I love you baby, this is for you!” And he started his car with the loudest roar.

Johnny:

Standing in front of your grave was like hearing the news all over again. You weren’t coming back. The preacher was speaking, but he couldn’t hear him. He heard himself chocking on his tears, heard Taeyong’s comforting words. He felt his throat closing up, his cheeks getting wetter, the pain in his chest and Jaehyun’s hand patting his back.

When the preacher walked away, Johnny couldn’t take it anymore. He fell on his knees in front of your grave, crying rivers, and stared at the words written in the stone: “Here lies Y/N Seo and Grace Seo.”

Grace, the name you both agreed on naming your daughter. The daughter he’ll never be able to hold.

Johnny raised his head and there, on the other side of your grave stood two, other, mafia leaders with their crews behind them. The two leaders placed their network’s flags on top of your gravestone. A sign of unity in the mafia.

Johnny bit his lip and nodded his head as a thank you.

Then, Taeyong raised his gun in the air and everyone followed. They all fired one shot: for you, his wife. And a second one: for his unborn daughter.

Yuta:

He wanted to be back in the field. In a mission, he could focus on what he had to do and he could forget the pain. Lying in bed, staring at the ceiling he couldn’t. He wasn’t able to move. His heart ached. He missed you so bad. He cried himself to sleep every night. Why you? Why? He hated life, he hated himself. It should’ve been him.

“Daddy.”

At the sound of his son’s voice, he whipped his tears quickly and sat up.

“What is it buddy? Are you alright?” His throat was hoarse.

His son climbed in his bed and hugged him hiding his face in his father’s neck.

“I miss mommy.” He cried

Yuta couldn’t help but cry again. He tightly hugged his son and laid back down.

“I miss her too buddy. I miss her so much.”

That night, and the following ones, they both cried themselves to sleep.

Kun:

Everything was a mess. His office was a mess, his head was a mess and his life was a mess.

He started living in his office because back home you were still there. Your stuff was there, memories you made together were there, it was all there and he knew that he might destroy everything out of anger, out of grief.

“Hey boss,” said Yangyang cracking the door of his office open, “can I ask you something real quick?”

Kun cleared his throat. He didn’t want one of his members to know he’d been crying; again. “Yeah, come in.”

Yangyang opened the door and stared at the mess surrounding him. “Dang boss, do you live here?”

No one knew he lived in his office apart from Taeyong.

Kun sighed nodding “I can’t go back home, she’s everywhere.”

Yangyang nodded in agreement. “I get it, once when I was five years old. My dog died in the backyard, out of old age don’t worry, anyway he died there in the middle of the backyard. And I didn’t want to go outside anymore because his presence was everywhere outside... “

As Yangyang rambled, Kun smiled faintly. He was grateful he had Yangyang in his life to stop him from being serious from time to time. But right now, Yangyang made him stop thinking about you for the first time weeks.

Doyoung:

Two police officers came at the mansion. Everyone expected the worst: that was it. They had legitimate proof. The officers asked to speak to him in private but Taeyong didn’t allow it. So here they were, the entire network, in what they call the living room surrounding the officers.

“Mr. Kim,” started the older officer Doyoung sat on the edge of his seat listening to his words, “there was an accident on the 640. Your wife lost control of the car and hit a pole.

“Is she ok? Is she fine?” Rushed Doyoung.

The older officer looked at his partner who took a big breath and swallow hard before speaking.

“The paramedic tried everything they could but it was too late. Mr. Kim, she didn’t make it. We’re sorry for your loss.”

The world stopped. They were lying; this had to be a joke. His tears were unstoppable. He wanted to scream, to shout at the officers to double check. There was no way that you were gone. Feeling Doyoung’s emotions starting to surface, Johnny guided the officers out thanking them.

As soon as the front door close, Taeyong placed a hand on Doyoung’s shoulder and spoke up.

“Let it out buddy.”

Doyoung sobbed loudly. He grabbed the vase that was on the table in front of him. He got up and threw it at the nearest wall. As pieces of glass were flying all around the room, Doyoung fell on his knees screaming.

Ten:

“Peacock are you in position?” Asked Kun bringing him back to reality.

Ten cleared his throat. “Yeah, I’m good Zipper.”

He was lying; he wasn’t good. Losing you had literally ripped his heart out of his chest. He was in constant pain. Taeyong and Kun agreed that he needed at least two weeks off but Ten begged to come back only a week after your death. On the field, he could stop thinking about you. That’s what he thought. The moment they were all in position, his mind went back to you.

He was so lost in his own world thinking about you that he never heard him. He never heard one of the enemy’s men coming from behind him. He never heard the gun shot. He only felt it.

The bullet entered in his back and got out in the middle of his chest. Blood poured out and fast. He placed a shaky hand on his wound and fell to the floor.

“Zipper,” he whispered in his walkie-talkie spitting blood, “I’m down.”

His vision started to become hazy, his breath short and his eyes heavy. He wasn’t going to last long and he knew it. Then he saw you, dressed in white. You were so beautiful, angel-like. He smiled for the first time in a while. You were here; you were back.

“Come on honey, come with me.” You whispered holding out your hand to him. He didn’t hesitate. He took your hand and closed his eyes for the last time.

Jaehyun:

He couldn’t sleep. He saw you every time he closed his eyes. Even though you occupied his thoughts keeping him away from, your once shared, bed. It’s not like his daughter was of any help.

The 2 month old needed constant care and attention and to remind her father to do so: she cried all the time. Jaehyun is pretty sure she hadn’t stop crying since the day you died. 

“It’s alright princess, I’m here. Daddy is here.” Jaehyun whispered rocking his baby.

He tried everything: feeding, changing, checking for fever, everything. But his daughter was inconsolable and Jaehyun was going insane. He knew his daughter needed her mother but you weren’t there anymore and that made him miss you even more then he already was.

Jaehyun tried his best to calm the infant down, but when his daughter’s cries only got louder he started to cry too. The stress, the feeling of being a bad parent and grief hitting him all at once.

He placed, his still crying, daughter back in her crib and walked out of the room. Jaehyun was doing his best to hold back his sobs not wanting to cry in front of his baby. But when he closed the door he broke down. He leaned his back on the door and slid to the floor face in his hands sobbing loudly with the screams of his newborn in the background.

Winwin:

Every night, he tried to distract himself. The thoughts of you were heart-wrenching at night. He tried a bunch of things: alcohol, gambling, weed, nothing worked. He was on his last resort, here: in a private room with a dancer, in one of Jaehyun’s brothels.

He tried to concentrate on the dance happening in front of him but failed to. The air was to heavy, the music was too loud, the couch he was sitting on wasn’t confortable and he kept imagining the snarky comments you’d make about Jaehyun’s choice of decor. He kept imagining you, he was on the verge of losing it. So when the dancer came close to him to dance on his lap, he couldn’t take it anymore.

He placed his fingers on the dancers stomach and pushed her away gently. “I can’t, I’m sorry. Fuck, I’m the worst.” He rushed the words out. “I’ll tell Jaehyun to pay you double. I’m sorry, I really am.. I just.. I can’t.”

He got up from the couch, took a hundred dollars out of his wallet and gave it to the dancer. Tears were threatening to fall at any moment. Why did he have to think about you now?

“Don’t worry it’s fine!” Replied the dancer. “Are you ok? You don’t look ok.”

He sat back down hands hiding his face. “We..we were supposed to get married.” He choked out. The dancer sat beside him and patted his back. “She.. She died a three weeks before we were supposed to get married.” He was now full on crying in a VIP room of a brothel.

Jungwoo:

His throat was hoarse all the time. He was also, probably, constantly dehydrated from the amount of crying he did. The worst was that he caught himself wanting to cry at the worst possible time: like right now.

They were in a meeting with another mafia, making a pact, when he felt like crying. He tilted his head forward hoping no one would see his watery eyes. He breathed by his mouth trying to clam himself down.

Fortunately, Taeil noticed the distress in Jungwoo’s demeanour. “Go take a breath of fresh air outside Woo.” He whispered in his ear.

Jungwoo got up making sure to make little noise and to hold back his sobs. Sadly, it didn’t go as planned. Everyone looked at him as he walked out of the room.

“Sorry about that,” he heard Taeil say as Jungwoo was getting close to the door, “his girlfriend died two weeks ago.”

Jungwoo closed the door to the meeting room. He put a hand in front of his mouth, to keep himself form crying, and sped walked to his usual breakdown place: the closet close to Johnny’s office.

It’s only when he closed the door of the closet behind him that he took his hand off of his mouth and starting crying. He slid to the floor: back pressed to a wall, knees close to his chest and forehead on his knees. And cried until he had no more water in his body.

Lucas:

He raised his empty glass towards the bartender. “Another one, please good sir.”

The bartender nodded.

Jungwoo had enough. He watched Lucas chug every drink the bartender gave him for the past hour. It wasn’t the first time this week and Jungwoo was fed up. He left the VIP section to go retrieve his friend.

Lucas felt a hand on his shoulder; he turned around slowly trying not to fall off the barstool.

“Jungwoo!” He screamed as he hugged him. “What are you doing here? Come here, this good sir is very good at making drinks.” Lucas looked at the bartender. “One drink for my friend good sir please!”

Jungwoo looked at his bartender for the night and shook his head. The bartender nodded and went to another client.

“Lucas, it’s the fourth time this week you come here to get shit faced. You need to stop bro!” Said Jungwoo

Lucas seemed to sober up at that statement. “What if I don’t want to? When I drink I forget about her.” Lucas pressed his finger against his temple repeatedly. “She’s always here.”

Jungwoo sighed “As much as I appreciate the income that comes along with dudes coming to drink the pain away, it’s a different story for my friends.” He grabbed Lucas’s arm. “Now come on, we’ll talk about this in the morning.”

Lucas pushed his hand away. “No leave me alone, I want another drink from the good sir.”

Jungwoo crossed his arms on his chest. “Lucas, do I have to call Kun and Taeyong?”

Lucas rolled his eyes “Fine.” He grunted getting up and following Jungwoo out of the bar.

Mark:

His back pressed to your tombstone sitting cross-legged on your grave was his new favourite place. He came at least four times a week. To have a moment for him, a moment away from all of his responsibilities. He’d talk to you about anything from the new restaurant he discovered to how their recent mission went.

He missed talking to you so bad. You were the only one who listened to his every word. You’d push all of his insecurities away. Now that you were gone, it’s like they were all back ten times stronger.

He missed hearing your voice. It was like music to his ears. It calmed him down after a hectic day. After such days, he used to come home and say the word: “cuddle” and you knew exactly what he needed.

He missed hearing you say that you loved him. He’s been in the network since he was very young. He used to think that he was unlovable. That his line of work meant he was never going to have someone to call his own but then, you came.

He missed your laugh. It could bright up any room, even the cells. Hearing your happiness made his heart flutter. When you’d laugh at one of his jokes he’d fall even more in love.

He missed your kisses. They made him forget about everything. They made him forget that he spent an entire day yelling at Dream Team to get their act together. Or, they made him forget that he spent hours in the freezing rain to meet up with a buyer that never came. They calm him down. They were addicting.

Mark lifted his head up and looked at the sky. Streaks of tears fresh on his face. “I miss you so much baby.”

Renjun:

“Where is it?” He grunted to himself.

He looked through every cupboard but he couldn’t find it. The one thing he needed right now. He could feel himself needing it, craving it. If he didn’t find it soon he was going to go insane. Something else caught his eye and he took it in between his index and middle finger. Could this be better?

“Renjun, what the hell are you doing here?” Asked Ten

Renjun jumped dropping what he had in between his fingers.

“Oh..um nothing.” He answered rapidly

Ten approached him. Renjun tried to hide what he dropped with his foot but it didn’t go unnoticed by Ten who bent down and picked it up.

“I don’t remember Jungwoo or I assigning you a cocaine run Renjun. What are you doing here?”

He’d been caught. Renjun looked at the ground.

For the past two weeks, the drug room, as they call it, had been one of his daily stops. He’d steal enough weed to get high but never enough to get caught by his other members.

“In my defense,” started Renjun, “I was looking for weed not cocaine.”

Ten crossed his arms. “I know.” Renjun’s mouth fell to the ground. “Do you really think that Jungwoo and I didn’t notice that our numbers didn’t match up with our stocks?”

“I just..” Renjun tried to explain holding back his tears; he hated feeling things. “I lost the best thing I had in my life. And it hurts so much, I just want to forget the pain.”

He started to cry. His high long gone and he started to feel the pain he’s been dreading to feel. He started to grief. He lost you and he couldn’t do anything about it.

Jeno:

“You know she’d hate seeing you like this.”

“Yeah well she isn’t here anymore is she?” Jeno spat at Jaemin.

Jaemin didn’t react. He was used to Jeno’s temperament by now and knew that it was his way of grieving.

“Dude, I’m just looking out for you.” Started Jaemin. “You haven’t been the same since she left. You’re getting into random fights with dudes three times your size and you always come back injured. All I’m saying is that she wouldn’t want you living like this!”

“Of course I haven’t been the same!” Screamed Jeno. “The girl I love, the one I planned to marry died. She’s dead. D-E-A-D. She’s never coming back, what would you do if your girl died?” Jaemin opened his mouth but he couldn’t reply. “That’s what I thought! So don’t you fucking dare to tell me shit about how I’m living my damn life.”

Jeno got up from the chair in the infirmary abruptly. The wound on his forehead, that Jaemin was fixing, still bleeding but he didn’t care he wanted to be far away from him right now.

He went to the gym to punch bags: to get the frustration out. After two punches, his eyes started to water. Jeno didn’t stop punching even if he was sobbing loudly and Jaemin, who followed him to make sure Jeno wouldn’t get in trouble, watched from afar his best friend fall apart.

Haechan:

To put it simply, he stopped living. He hadn’t shed a tear since he learned the news. Too shocked to realize. He also hadn’t moved from his place on the couch. For three days, he’s been laying on his side on the couch in his living room. Arms crossed over his chest, not moving, not sleeping, not drinking, not eating; nothing. His best friends and their girlfriends tried everything to get him back on his feet.

“Taeyong, what the hell?” Screamed his wife.

The couple were in the doorway of Haechan’s place. Arguing because Taeyong had just asked Haechan to: “get your act together, I need you on the field tonight.”

“What?” Replied Taeyong offended. “I need him back on the field!”

“Get Hendery from the Chinese Division for all I care. Haechan’s girlfriend just died, you can’t put him back in the field this quickly!”

“Yes I can and I will.”

Taeyong’s wife sighed loudly. “Do you even care about him?”

“Of course I do, what kind of..”

She cut him. “No you don’t because if you did, you would know that the only thing he ate in three days is five spoons of apple sauce. You don’t because if you did, you would know that Jeno’s girl is lucky if she can get him to drink half a glass of water per day. You don’t because if you did, you wouldn’t try to send him back on the field right now.”

Taeyong opened his mouth to retaliate but his wife stopped him by raising her hand. “Don’t even try to justify yourself.” She lightly pushed Taeyong out of the apartment. “I’m staying with Haechan tonight because I care about him. Also to make sure he doesn’t die of grief.” She grabbed the door handle. “Meanwhile, maybe you can reflect on your words and actions.” She snarked closing the door and locking it.

Jaemin:

Currently, the only thing that brought him joy was torturing. His talent for medicine turned dark. These days, he rarely helped Winwin in the infirmary instead; he opted for torturing the network’s new prisoners until they begged for death.

“Please.” Cried the man he’s been torturing for three days now. “I’ve told you everything. I swear I don’t have anymore information to give you.”

“How can I be sure of that?” smirked Jaemin.

“Just kill me already. I have no value for you anymore. Please, just end this.”

Jaemin shook his head. “No, you’re a bad dude. Only good people deserve a quick painless death.”

The doctor’s words rang in his head: “She never suffered.”

“And you’re wrong!” Added Jaemin. “You have a value to me. You see, I recently lost the best thing that ever happened in my life. She was an actual angel; I used to pinch myself every morning. The fact that she was mine was surreal to me. Now, that she’s dead the only thing that brings me joy is torturing people. Seeing the pain in their eyes and loving the fact that she never experienced it. So I’m going to keep torturing you until I see every pain imaginable in your eyes.”

Jaemin planted a knife in the man’s arm and twisted it.

The man’s screams could be heard through the entire mansion followed by Jaemin’s laugh.

Chenle:

You were his source of comfort. His peace in this fucked up world. He did a couple of thing to remind him of you. He got a helix piercing on his left ear, just like you had, and put one of your earrings in it. He also got a tattoo of an octopus, your favourite animal. Even after these, he still needed the peace you brought him.

One night, he was walking around the mansion and decided to go take at a look at the shooting range. Xiaojun was there, practicing on moving target. When he was done, Chenle went up to him.

“Hey, Xiao how are you?” He asked

“Yo Chenle, I’m good you?”

Chenle shrugged. “I try to be.”

“I’m really sorry. She was a great girl.”

“Yeah she was.” Whispered Chenle as he lifted his head to the ceiling to keep his tears at bay.

An uncomfortable silence settled between them.

“I know it’s weird,” started Chenle, “but can I try that training? I just need something to occupy my mind these days and Mark never lets me train with moving targets. According to him, I’m a hazard to myself and to the equipment.”

Xiaojun laughed “Yeah, why not?”

He explained how that training worked to Chenle before going behind the bulletproof glass.

“You ready Chenle?” Called Xiaojun.

“Yeah!”

Chenle looked down at his tattoo on his right bicep and gave it a quick peck hoping you were watching over him.

Jisung:

He walked in the tattoo parlour a stern look on his face and the last letter you wrote him in his hand.

“What’s up dude? What can I do for you?” Asked the tattoo artist

Jisung placed the letter on the counter and pointed to the last sentence. “I want to get that.”

The words I love you, in your handwriting. That’s what he wanted; to have you and your love with him for the rest of his life.

“Ok,” nodded the tattoo artist, “thought I’m going to need an ID. You look a bit young dude.”

“I assure you that I’m of age.” Snarled Jisung

“Dude I believe you, but I need to be sure. You know legal wise.”

Jisung was losing patience, something he found himself doing a lot since you died.

“I won’t say it again, I’m of age you don’t need my ID.”

“I need your ID to be sure you’re legit.”

Jisung had enough. He took his gun out of his jacket and pointed it at the artist who raised his hands almost immediately.

“I said I’m legal. Now can you do that tattoo or should I find somebody else.”

The artist gulped “No need dude, I can do it.”

“That’s what I thought.”

#nct mafia au #nct 127 #nct dream #nct 2018 #nct drabbles #nct reactions #nct scenarios #nct imagines

[thanksjro]

“Bullets”, a Last Stand of the Wreckers prose story- Ironfist Solves a Murder Mystery

Now that Overlord and Rewind have been exploded horribly in the vacuum of space, multiple people have died, and Chromedome’s horrifically single, let’s take a look at all those Last Stand of the Wreckers extras, yeah?

We more or less start with a Furmanism, as is tradition.

One day Furmanisms won’t be nearly as prevalent within the comic publications, and that is a day that I cannot wait to see. Forget politics, forget misogyny, forget basically NEEDING Death of the Author in effect to enjoy anything the man’s done- Furmanisms are a crutch that everybody in this franchise uses, but nobody needs. They never feel natural, in my opinion. It’s like a literary obligation at this point, and you can tell, because it never quite meshes with any writer’s style.

Anyway, this is the setup for what would happen on Pova- the Wreckers have been watching Squadron X fix up their ship, and now that the thing’s airborne again they’ve gotten itchy trigger fingers. Well, some of them, anyway. Rack n Ruin aren’t so sure about this whole thing, seeing as there are eight of them and an entire battalion up there. Impactor’s working the crowd though, as a leader of such a high turnover rate group is required to do, and that’s the point where First Aid stops reading.

Yep, this is one of Fisitron’s datalog entries, of which First Aid is a fan.

This isn’t First Aid’s first appearance within the IDW continuity- he played a role in Spotlight: Jazz, where he lived up to his name, and in Transformers: Ironhide #1, where he was in the background. This IS his premiere as a major player in a story, however, and it’s here that he’s revealed to be a bit of a slacker- he should be making the rounds at Delphi right now, but instead he’s reading entry logs about the wartime equivalent of a boyband.

He hits a key to quicktab to something at least somewhat medically-related as he feels someone approaching from behind. It’s the CMO, and he is in no way fooled by First Aid’s attempt to hide his shame. He gets back to work, but that particular entry- 113, because of course it is- is still on his mind. Hope he never finds out it’s a load of bunk.

I REALLY hope he never finds out this is all bunk. We all need something, you know?

Of course, First Aid- y’know, not to brag or anything- personally met one of the Wreckers. Roughly five years ago, Springer had approached him at a medical conference on Kimia. Why a medical conference was being held on Kimia of all places isn’t addressed, but it was probably because half the folks stationed there are doctors. First Aid, being a classy guy, fucking ogles Springer the entire time they’re talking.

You’ve heard of “Men Writing Women”, now it’s time for “Roberts Writing Robots”. Yes, this is THAT scene, and it’s on the first goddamn page.

First Aid, wanting to be of use to his idol, offers his medical expertise, completely willing to fix Springer’s nose, give him a breast reduction, and even update the circuit dampeners he doesn’t have. Springer, while flattered, isn’t looking for that sort of help. He’s looking for folks who have a lot to give.

The phrasing he uses makes First Aid think that he’s about to be recruited to the Wreckers- in other words, about to be put in line for a slow and awful death- but Springer clarifies that he’s looking more for eyes and ears to help him, not so much bodies. He hands First Aid a card with his number, and says to give him a call sometime.

Cutting back to the present, First Aid is walking through the rows of patient slabs, where we see an honestly horrifying practice in play- every patient in Delphi has their non-essential functions turned off to conserve power. This includes things like the ability to move, and speak.

Because that couldn’t possibly have any negative repercussions.

He checks in on the Fader he’s been assigned, confirms that, yes, his head IS still missing from his neck, then makes to walk out of the room, only to be startled by the sudden entry of a stretcher and Ambulon. Here, Ambulon is identified as a chief paramedic, as opposed to being a ward manager. Whether this is early installment weirdness or a simple mistake isn’t clear.

Ambulon is quickly followed by Dogfight, Dodger, and Backstreet(’s back, alright!) First Aid gets to work, by checking the three of them for injuries, paying special attention to their Autobot badges.

This is the reason Rung had to call in at the beginning of MTMTE #4, though it might be more because First Aid can’t act like a professional of five friggin’ minutes.

Oh, Delphi’s HR department is getting a call for sure.

First Aid, while a known fondler of badges, has never had this exact reaction. He runs off to make a phone call, leaving the injured Dodger to wait for the surgery he’s going to undergo the moment First Aid gets back.

Meanwhile, somewhere else- I’m guessing Kimia- Rung has an appointment underway with a dude named Flattop.

Flattop’s TFWiki article is one of the most depressing on the entire site, and it’s completely “Bullets”’s fault.

You see, Flattop’s attempting to talk through his trauma, but it’s difficult.

This level of insight is why they pay Rung the big bucks.

The war, while terrible for everyone’s mental health, has given Rung a slew of patients to handle.

Gee, wonder who that medic was.

Anyway, so Flattop’s deal- he was at Babu Yar, which was an event that was apparently so terrible, everyone involved was offered brand new bodies as compensation. He’s currently hiding underneath a table, which Rung identifies as “playing to type”. Flattop isn’t even here to talk about Babu Yar, but it’s good to know that war is still hell.

The reason Flattop’s actually here is this: he was serving under Silverstreak- another one of Rung’s patients, and someone who I’m convinced might actually be a Warrior cat given the name- and was going to check something out when he saw something utterly terrifying.

Rung gets Flattop out from under the table, and they talk about what the Shimmer means. Flattop is convinced that since he’s seen the thing, he’s going to die. You see, folklore in space is very similar to its counterpart on Earth, in that it’s a warning swathed in story to make it easily digestible.

Rung, who tries to keep things rational, offers to give Flattop a few possible explanations for what he saw. Because Flattop had only recently gotten his hot new bod a short while before he saw the Shimmer, it’s completely possible he had had a hallucination due to the adjustment period. Another theory is that Flattop has PTSD. Which, I mean, yeah.

While Rung was busy trying to explain what had happened, Flattop friggin’ died.

Awkward.

Over with Ironfist- because “Bullets” is a prequel- we’re in the middle of a meeting with the Ethics Committee. Xaaron, Animus, and Trailbreaker of all people, have come together to pass judgement on Ironfist’s cerebro-sensitive bullets. There’s a lot of hemming and hawing, and Ironfist reflects on how they got to this moment, while fiddling with a data slug to burn off the nerves.

This is just after the Surge happened, an event kicked off by the betrayal of the Autobot cause allowed Megatron to seize a majority of the Autobot outposts. It was a huge deal, a lot of shit was stolen, including the Weak Anthropic Principle, and it left everyone a little twitchy towards one another. Trust is not in vogue at present.

Kimia’s in a mess of trouble anyway, however, due to the events of Babu Yar, where Gideon’s Glue had rained down on the Autobot troops under Flame’s command, eaten to Swiss cheese by something eerily similar to something being developed on the station.

So an investigation was established. Brainstorm, who’s apparently big man on campus here at Kimia, is questioned, as is everyone else. Of course, no one cops to having invented Gideon’s Glue, because that’s a big ol’ war crime, so the questioning goes nowhere, but now there’s a precedent for mistrust on this science station.

Anyway, back to the bullet thing.

Ironfist’s cerebro-sensitive bullets are designed to hit the head, every single time, ignoring trajectory, ballistic physics, what you think is possible, and the Geneva Convention. It’s fired, it hits the first brain it identifies. Brutal stuff. Effective, but brutal.

Trailbreaker’s not a fan.

I mean, maybe? I guess it depends how gray your morality is. I bet Prowl would like them.

After telling Trailbreaker to keep it professional, Xaaron tells Ironfist that using these bullets would be a literal war crime, and he’s got a little over a day to hand them over to the Committee for destruction. Meeting adjourned!

Ironfist is left standing there until his good buddy Skyfall checks in on him. Ironfist is kind of bummed out, but Skyfall knows how to cheer him up- by comparing him to Impactor, former leader of the Wreckers, and one of Ironfist’s fan-crushes.

Man, this makes the Pova reveal a little harsher in hindsight, huh?

Skyfall invites Ironfist to the Exit Rooms, a place where the Kimia employees can drink and no one will give a shit, and as they make their way over they run into Brainstorm.

Brainstorm gets some interesting development in this story.

That’s right, not only are his weapons completely insane, and in some cases literally abstract, they’re apparently often so incredibly dangerous that the Ethics Committee loses sleep over the fact that they exist.

And Brainstorm loves it.

No wonder Trailbreaker was so annoyed in his Spotlight.

Skyfall asks about what’s in Brainstorm’s briefcase, gets an answer that’s likely a lie, then the boys head over to the Exit Rooms.

Over on Hydrus 5, it’s raining cats and dogs, and this is somehow the Transformers fault. I guess the universe bends to the will of what would be the most dramatic, as everyone takes a break from warmongering to soul-search.

Or ego-stroking. That works too.

Here is our dear Pyro, reveling in the aftermath of a battle that destroyed the natural ecosystem of the land, but at least they kicked those ‘Cons’ asses!

Pyro, who’s revealed to be maybe perhaps not the best at coming up with one-liners, is left alone for a bit as Afterburner goes to check on the rest of their men. As he tries to piece together a speech to deliver, he sees a green something- they’re always green, aren’t they?- and that something is the Shimmer.

Well, heck.

Over on the dilapidated space station of Debris (wow, that’s even less subtle than usual for this franchise) Springer’s holding a bullet. I mean, it’s not really a bullet, and the Decepticon who fired it wasn’t really a Decepticon.

I want you to know that I keep track of how many times 113 comes up in these stories, and for “Bullets" it’s a LOT.

Today’s letter from Agent 113 foreshadows/hindshadows the events of Last Stand, claiming that the DJD hasn’t heard anything from Garrus-9 since the Surge happened. Prowl’s concerned that Fortress Maximus is still alive in there and fighting off the Decepticons while waiting for backup, so he recently called Springer and invited the Wreckers on a mission.

All Springer has to do is pick some sorry sons of guns to die.

Over with Guzzle, who is romanticizing a weapon, comparing his gun to a religious artifact, our dear little bastard man has realized that he does, in fact, have emotions, and is in mourning over his lost comrades, who died rescuing Kup from Tsiehshi. Guzzle doesn’t much appreciate this whole “feeling” thing, and would rather it didn’t get in the way of him shooting statues for no other reason than him wanting to. Then he sees the Shimmer, and feels fear. He doesn’t much care for that, either.

Even Nick Roche is powerless to stop this madness.

We reconfirm the fact that Ironfist is a massive nerd, then are shown that the bullet accident that will have killed him by the end of Last Stand #5 has already happened. Ever so slowly, the bullet is heading for Ironfist’s brain. Every time it hits a new layer of his noggin, he blacks out.

Ironfist is going to leave on his super-fun, not-at-all-traumatizing Wrecker adventure soon, and he’s promised Skyfall his workshop. Skyfall was at Grindcore for a while, and that kind of gave him PTSD, so when Ironfist had gotten accepted to Kimia, he’d brought him along for the ride.

I like to call Grindcore Eugenesis-lite.

Because Skyfall is a reckless son of a gun with access to Ironfist’s workshop, he inadvertently caused a major incident with something called Black Phosphex, which resulted in the deaths of several Autobots because it wasn’t properly tested. This landed him in Garrus-9 for a bit, in a temporary career-path deviation, until it was time to come home to Kimia, just in time for the Inquiry.

Are stans always this intense? Because good lord, Ironfist.

Over at Karashi Delta, in the aftermath of a fierce battle, Rotorstorm is hyping himself the fuck up.

But does he buy it himself?

Hmm, survey says no.

Of course, verbal abuse isn’t the only thing we’ll be getting here. No, things begin to escalate pretty rapidly with Jetstream, who moves from shoving to almost beating Rotorstorm to death in a matter of months, before disappearing from the station forever.

Dang, this Jetstream fella kinda sucks. What’s his friggin’ problem?

Ah.

Again, I can’t stress this enough, Whirl’s awful flipper claws from back during his time as a cop do not make a nice fist. He was basically stabbing Rotorstorm. Who let this man be a teacher?

Rotorstorm is snapped out of his self-deprecating flashbacks by the sight of something on the canyon lip up ahead. It’s the gotdang Shimmer. Rotorstorm books it, not wanting to be caught by a harbinger of death. It doesn’t work, but points for trying.

Back on Debris, Springer’s picked his new recruits. Now all he has to do is call them up. Hey, isn’t Springer green? Green like the Shimmer? How about that.

Back on Kimia, Skyfall’s wandered into Ironfist’s workshop to share the gossip on Fisitron’s latest Wreckers: Declassified. Folks are a bit critical of his writing style, it would seem.

Of course Swerve knows what fan-fiction is. He seems like exactly the type to make fun of it, then read a 43,000 word fic in a single sitting, under cover of darkness, burning with shame all the while.

After making a note on his current Wreckers: Declassified document to ease up on the adverbs, Ironfist switches gears and gets busy on his other project: an Unofficial Wreckers’ Training Guide. I wonder when the switch from Primal Vanguard to Wreckers as a hyperfixation happened for him.

Ironfist asks Skyfall what entry he’s currently on, and the answer is a ways away from the latest one. Skyfall’s a slow reader, but he doesn’t want to just beam it all into his brain because it feels like cheating. He asks Ironfist when he’s going to cover the Wreckers’ mission to Garrus-9, the one that happened while he was there being not-imprisoned. Ironfist gives a non-answer, then asks if Skyfall wants to help with packing up the war-crime guns. Skyfall most certainly does not.

Ironfist starts breaking everything down when he gets a call from Prowl, as happened in Last Stand #4.

Back with Springer, we’re giving our dad a hug, as he greets Kup. It’s here we find out who Ironfist replaced on the Wrecker team for Operation: Retrieval- it was Skyfall. Skyfall had impressed Springer during their last Garrus-9 excursion, and thought that he’d be a good fit for the team, despite the Black Phosphex incident.

Kup goes full old man story time mode about how insanely boring Prowl is, while Springer gets the door. On the other side is Twin Twist, Top Spin, and Perceptor. They hold the vote, Ironfist given immunity due to unmentioned Prowl reasons, and Springer gets ready to call all their new pals.

Back at Ironfist’s workshop, Ironfist reflects on just how his life got to this point. He’s going to join the Wreckers! Never mind the fact that he’ll be going to die, and that’s if the bullet crawling around in his skull doesn’t get him first. Never mind the very likely possibility that he’s being exploited by Prowl. Nah, he’s gonna go on an adventure! It’s gonna be awesome! Yaaaaay!

It doesn’t pay to be blue and naive when Roberts is handling the story. Just ask Pipes.

Or don’t. You won’t get an answer.

Called it.

Ironfist, starstruck, bumbles his way through the conversation we saw in the Mosaic, and so it was that he became a Wrecker. All he has to do is pop on over to Rung’s office, get his head examined, then get his butt on over to Babu Yar.

Telecon work completed, Springer reflects on the fact that Guzzle turned him down. It’s not often someone turns down the chance to be a Wrecker.

Oh, well, never mind then.

Ironfist immediately tells Skyfall about what’s happened, because he’s just so jazzed to be a Wrecker. Skyfall isn’t quite as thrilled, but does his best to be supportive.

And by that I mean he’s not listening in the slightest as he’s already planning out the interior design for the workshop once Ironfist is gone. I bet he’ll get Atomizer to help him, the tacky bastard.

Skyfall runs off to go look at paint swatches or whatever, and Ironfist finalizes the stuff for the Ethics Committee pickup.

Oh, so that appointment wasn’t on Kimia after all. Can we please get some sort of fast-track program for the mental health specific degrees? We can’t keep using Rung for everybody, he’s only one person.

Oh heavens, Ironfist, be careful.

Ironfist gets another call, and we jump scenes before we can figure out just who rang or why.

Brief timeskip, and we find ourselves at Babu Yar, as Ironfist introduces himself to Guzzle and his gun.

Ironfist is about as smooth as coarse-grit sandpaper.

While Ironfist is busy revealing his nerd shame to Guzzle, someone’s decided to be a cocky little asshole.

Oh, dramatic irony. Always a delightful sort of pain.

Rotorstorm cranks up the “I’m hot shit” act to 11.5, doing completely unnecessary flips and talking himself up like he will literally die if he doesn’t.

Off in the distance, something disingenuously impressive comes up over the hill.

Of course, it’s not Optimus Prime, but it is someone who would very much like to be him. Such is the nature of primus apotheosis. Gang’s all here!

This is going to turn out fan-fucking-tastic.

Rotorstorm and Guzzle want to play with the big gun Ironfist brought along, and since Ironfist is going to die anyway, he lets them go for it. This would be why everything was on fire at the start of the miniseries.

Yep. Just gotta make it hurt just a little more, doncha Roberts? Just gotta twist the knife.

Nine months after the events of the Garrus-9 mission, Skyfall is upset. He’s gone and played himself by not attending the Ethics Committee hearings, and they’ve taken all his toys away as a result. He tries to mask his lack of concern for safety precautions behind a facade of missing Ironfist, but it doesn’t get him the weapons back.

Feeling cross, he decides it’s about time he made a visit to the Exit Rooms to blow off a little steam.

Later, he gets a call. Worried that his lack of ethics and/or his drunken squabbling has gotten him in trouble yet again, he’s loathe to answer, but does anyway.

Ghost call!

No, it’s actually a prerecorded message, one that claims that Skyfall killed Ironfist. Ironfist had asked Brainstorm to take a gander at the gun after he got shot, and found that it had been tampered with, set to go off on its own when held a certain way. That’s who was calling before he left for his Wrecker mission. 

Skyfall starts to panic, expecting the security detail for Kimia to bust into the workshop at any second. 

Ironfist knows that only Skyfall could have done this to him, but he doesn’t know the exact motive. Was it because he was jealous of how good a weapons expert he was? A chip on his shoulder about Grindcore? Whatever the reason, Ironfist isn’t terribly concerned at the time of the recording. What he is concerned about is Gideon’s Glue.

Ironfist had, in fact, invented Gideon’s Glue, but he’d been so horrified by what the shit actually did, he flushed it into space and destroyed all research before the Ethics Committee even knew about it. It still got to the Decepticons, though, didn’t it? How could such a thing happen?

Probably not, considering what happens next.

Ironfist is a smart guy, but more importantly, he knows how to reach his audience. Literally, in this case, as Skyfall finds out, when the Enforcement Squad starts trying to break down the door. Ironfist had the message that Skyfall is currently listening to primed for beaming into all of Fisitron’s reader’s brains. Everyone knows what happened. Swerve. Atomizer. Ratchet, who’s over on Earth right now. First Aid, who has enough bullshit to worry about on Delphi without this nonsense. You. Me. Everyone.

Skyfall, in a mad attempt to save himself, throws some of Ironfist’s Wrecker memorabilia at the door, and out pops that last tube of Gideon’s Glue.

There’s only one way out of this one.

This got really intense at the end, didn’t it?

#transformers #jro #jro punches me in the face #last stand of the wreckers #bullets #maccadam #Hannzreads #text post #long post #prose writing #wreckers trilogy