#might be continued

[rue-x3]

Harpy(wings for arms) Mamayuan goodnight post

SY lives in the forest (harpies are quite large compared to humans in this au, how else would they pick up humans and carry them away to eat them?) and spends his time collecting trinkets and works of human literature (transmigrated a while ago and somewhat unaware that he’s in PIDW). It’s hard to read the mentioned literature—human works are very tiny and extremely fragile beneath his clawed hands (will include a picture of how his wings work lol)—so he mainly collects them for decoration if anything. He’s friendly to those that wake up early to gather vegetables from his part of the forest (relatively safer since many of the more intelligent threats refuse to linger where a harpy has settled) as well as to the people that hunt for food in the near area.

Seeing his lack of hostility has made village people less afraid to interact with him and has resulted in a rumor along the lines of “There’s a friendly beast in the forest.” Of course despite this many people still steer clear of SY when he’s around and don’t linger when they are near him. This makes for a pretty lonely life.

Or well it did

Insert Shen Jiu, and Yue Qi. Two little street rats that happened to be chased into the forest after being chased by a stall owner (they’d stolen some bread from them). They would’ve certainly been caught if not for Shen Yuan’s convenient arrival, his large wings nearly blanketing the sky (exaggeration, he’s not /THAT/ big) as he landed in the small clearing the kids had been forced into, the bloody remains of a moose—a large hulking beast that even a skilled hunter would think twice about confronting—clutched in his talons.

He didn’t notice them at first—not with how small they were. The stall owner that’d been chased backed off rather quickly when Shen Yuan cocked his head and inquired why they were this far in the forest. The terrifying sight of a creature known to eat men looking at you curiously with blood splattered across its face would be unnerving to anyone, so looking back Shen Yuan couldn’t really blame them for screaming and running.

SY turns to his hunt for the day and instead comes face to face with two children clinging on to one another like their life depends on it. On the ground a few feet away was a torn piece of bread—most likely attached to the piece that Shen Yuan had crushed under his talons during his landing. It seems that the sight of him appearing had startled the kids into tossing their food.

Either due to pity or what remaining humanity SY had, SY finds himself tearing off a leg of moose and tossing it over to the children like an offering. They flinch back of course—but SY’s already lifting his kill back up w/ his hands this time and carrying it off to the nearby stream in the clearing.

Tbh I’m tired

Www here’s how SY’s wings/hands look

Sorry for the bad drawing it’s 1 am www

Obviously the wing feathers are longer (super huge) the wing to hand ratio is like super large but I wanted to fit the wing and the hand on screen so I drew it like that

[inquisitor-of-hearts]

Augmented Dreams

Adam Jensen & David Sarif, Adam Jensen & Francis Pritchard

When Adam wakes up augmented, Sarif and Pritchard try to console him in their own ways.

Contains (very subtle) Deus Ex: Human Revolution spoilers.

Rating: Teen/Gen

Word Count:  1,680

On Ao3

Adam sat in the infirmary station, clenching his fist as he was up in bed, pillows behind him supporting his back. It had been just minutes since he had woken up and heard of the augmentations he had - somewhat involuntarily - received. The first reaction, naturally, was shock, until it verged onto disbelief, then sped onto anger. David, who had his lawyer first of all speak to him, sat in the armchair next to the window and let the other do the talking. A clause in Jensen’s contract, he explained, had allowed them to fulfill this procedure and save his life. “Save my life?” Adam spoke, emphasizing what he thought they must have gotten wrong. The industry lawyer was quick to speak up, but David raised his metallic hand to stop him, and he indeed faltered as he saw the gesture, his head turned towards the man in charge. “You don’t need to thank me, Adam.” David said. “Damn right I don’t.” “But soon you will come to realize it was that or leaving you mutilated.” the CEO explained. “I didn’t -- I couldn’t give you back what you were. But I did the best I could. I gave you a body. I gave you what you needed to survive, to get a chance for a normal life. A better life.” “A better life you call this?” David watched the spiteful spirit in the man, but did not react. “You decided to patch me up like I’m a toy soldier to you.” “Believe it or not, Adam, I did what I had to. I did what I thought you would have wanted. You want to live, don’t you?” “Not like this.” “You’d rather have me take your life? The life that was given to you due to my decision?” David rose from his seat, his words chosen wisely but the slight agitation could be sensed fully. “Fine. I’ll take it. If that’s what you want, I’ll take it back from you!” Adam’s fist loosened, the grip opening so naturally that both pairs of eyes - the lawyer’s and David’s - were on it immediately. Adam tensed the second he noticed their stares, the way they watched him like he was just an expensive enhancement project, not a human being. “Get out of here.” David’s eyes wandered to meet Adam’s whose face in turn relaxed, eyebrows raising, then lowering in an effort to release tension before he spoke up again. “I said get out.” he repeated, calmly but in an overly firm manner. With a swaying gesture of his hand David encouraged them both to leave. “I know you’re upset, but give it some time.” His metallic hand rested on the equally cold steel of the bed frame for a moment, as if hoping the other would soften. But he did not. And so the hand was withdrawn. Before he took his leave, he raised it a last time in an effort to remind him of something. “Also, Frank will come to check up on you later.” “I don’t want to see anyone.” Adam spoke still defiant and cold. “Then tell him off” David suggested with a shrug, voice particularly coarse. “The man does what he wants, he will come here regardless of what I ask him to do.” Unmoved synthetic eyes watched the CEO of Sarif Industries until it became awkward enough and he turned to leave without another word. Words only got one so far after all.

Sleep came easily due to administered pain medications and hypostims while his augmentations depleted the little energy he had left faster than under unharmed conditions. And the dreams were vivid and surreal, although mostly forgotten upon waking up. Several times he thought Pritchard had come in without even so much as a knock on the door but when he turned towards the door, no one was there. At last, in a half-asleep state, he did hear a knock, and his eyes blinked open slowly.

“Come in” he said, thinking it might be the medical personnel. But once he took notice of the man dressed in the leather jacket, he regretted the invitation instantly. “Jensen” “Pritchard” He turned his gaze away from him on purpose while the other walked up, pulling in one of the chairs at the table closer to the bed and sitting down on it mindfully. “Am I-- interrupting something?” “What gives you the idea?” Adam brushed him off casually, without actually wanting to hear an answer. “I already told Sarif I don’t want to see anyone.” “Why let me in then?” “I thought you’re one of the doctors.” “Technically I am. In matters of robotics, you see. Although I never got a doctorate degree.” Francis explained, and Adam could guess he was referring to his cybernetics degree, although he was not sure if he really had an official one or was mostly self-taught. As the other man grew quiet, Adam dared to look into his direction and only now saw he had brought a modified tablet with him. “Look, I’ve written this program to check the efficiency of neural connections.” he explained after tapping a few instructions on the electronic device, then handed it to the other. “You wouldn’t mind clicking a few pictures to prove you’re not a robot?” Adam snorted. “Sure you don’t want to run a Voight-Kampff test on me?” “Ah, classic. But no, not at the moment.” came the, as usual, barely emotional response before he tapped the screen once more and handed it to Adam. The other man looked at the screen disengaged, then at his colleague, lids half-closed in an attempt at conveying his disapproval. “So you’re for real.” “Of course I am. Don’t worry, that test won’t actually tell me if you’ve turned into a robot.” “Know what?” But Francis eyed him at once, hearing the menacing threat that was not quite there yet. “I am tired of being treated like a broken machine, someone who can be fixed and have tests run on, just like that. And then I’m good to go. Then I’ll get in the field again, and -- what? You’ll keep monitoring my functions?” “Jensen, that is not--” “No, Francis, it is. And let me finish.” he interrupted in turn. “Just how long are you going to treat me like I am an expensive tech good? Don’t answer that. I don’t even want to hear how I can never repay Sarif my gratitude. That he saved my life and all that. He didn’t ask me.” “You’re... taking this the wrong way.” “Oh yeah? How am I supposed to take it then?” “Well, as for Sarif I can’t say anything but that he tried to save you. Although you will have to work out the details with him. As for me, I just want to check your neural connections.” “Oh and what makes you think you’re my doctor now?” “Fine.” At last he pulled the tablet back. “You don’t want my help. I get it.” “You could have…” Adam stopped. No, he could not. Even if he hoped for it, he could not ask for it. “Could have what?” the other asked. “Forget it.” A hand was raised to his face, a hand that still felt foreign and cold but worked well enough. Adam shook his head. He could not expect Francis to understand or empathize.

Days passed by like moments in which his eyes closed and opened for seconds. Only when the substantial healing phase was behind him, Adam started to take it all in for what it really was. The reality set in like the clouded gloomy sky that greeted him when he opened the window next to his infirmary bed. He pulled out a cigarette, reached for the lighter and inhaled once the flame was ignited, blowing out the grey smoke matching the grey skies. To him it was still nothing short of a miracle that he could even stand next to the window without breaking down. That his brain could calibrate it all like it matched the clenching of his free hand just now as it had when he talked to Sarif. Everything felt so natural, so real. And yet when he ran his hand balancing the cigarette over the other cold hand, it was not quite as real as he remembered it. He could sense the thermal differences, but he was lacking the very fine skills to tell if he felt cold in his limbs. Because he could not feel it -- because they were not his limbs. He coughed up a short chuckle as he realized he would never have to cut his nails again, never have to worry about dry skin on his hands or arms. Although probably around the parts where the metal met the skin even more so now than ever before. For everything else he would rely on an outsourced maintenance, someone patching him up, someone fixing him. That was what he was now when he was hurt, a broken machine, not a broken human. He extinguished the cigarette by pressing it against the outer window frame, only having finished half of it, and threw it out after carefully checking no one was beneath or in sight. He was not supposed to smoke here, he was well aware of that. But as an ex-SWAT he was also aware of how and when the rules could be bent. Looking at the pack of cigarettes, he wondered who had left the unopened pack here for him. It could not have been Francis, no, it must have been Sarif. And of course he would not leave any trace of his name. Feeling bad for how things had gone last time, this would be his quiet way of apologizing. It always was. Sarif was of the loud type, awfully loud in public, awfully charismatic with his grand visions while in the meantime his backhand seeped subtly into every action that he wanted to be in on. Adam knew his boss well and for that the after taste was a whole lot more bitter than he had imagined it to be.

[generic-connor]

Hankcon drabble. 

It all started with a simple confession from Connor. “I’m scared,” he’d said, before pressing himself as close to the lieutenant as he possibly could. The initial result left him pleasantly caught in a tight bear-hug. He sighed into it, contented, his fears somehow dissipating even though there was no logical reason for that to happen. Nothing was changed so far. All that which terrified him lay present at his feet, no longer breathing down his neck, but still there. 

The fear no longer mattered, not while he was wrapped in warmth and the unspoken promise of security; protection. Hank would look out for him. He had his back. They were a real team now; partners. Relief washed over his circuits, causing him to tremble with sensation. He held on, unwilling to let the moment go. His software instability was dangerously high. Was he finally compromised? 

Hank was the first to pull away. Putting his large hands over Connor’s biceps, he pried the android off to hold him just far enough that he could look at him. His gaze was intense, searching, if a little bleary from drinking. The color on his face was spreading from his cheeks, to his nose, his ears, and even down his neck. Connor watched with fascination, his eyes wide, studying every tiny detail of Hank as if it would be the last time they saw one another. 

For all Connor knew, it would be. He shuddered again at the thought of being decommissioned, destroyed, broken, killed... Hank brought his attention back to the present with a little shake. “Hey! Connor- you keep... why d’you keep shaking like that? You have’n ... Issit some.. error? You need to go back to Cyberlife or-”

“No!” Connor replied too quickly, too intense. “No. I don’t. I’m- I’m not broken...” he finished, unsteady. Hank appeared alarmed, and more than a little confused. 

“Hey... hey... it’s... it’s alright. C’mon. Let’s get inside before your circuits freeze up, ok?” Hank fumbled with his keys, swearing under his breath. As soon as the door swung open, Hank was instantly ushering Connor through it. He pulled him inside, locked the door behind them and led him over to sit on the couch. “Here... just uh... sit here. I’ll bring you uh... A blanket.” 

Connor sat placid and compliant, nodding slowly. “Sure Hank. A blanket would be nice,” his voice sounded softer, less certain. The vibe was all wrong, not at all like the goofy and self important plastic cop Hank had become attached to. Something was very wrong. He was... scared? Hank scratched his head, stumbling to his bedroom. He was too old and too sober for this. Even if he was at the point at exhaustion, he was nowhere near drunk enough to handle the idea of his own android partner going rogue. 

The entire situation was- well, “That’s so fucked,” he grumbled into the closet. His mind was racing, but the world was growing hazy. He would pass out soon from some combination of sleep loss and drink, it didn’t matter which. Walking to the couch would be so hard, but he had to- 

“Hank,” a familiar goofy voice called from the doorway in an unfamiliarly uncertain way. His heart skipped a beat. He didn’t know why. “I came to check on you... Are you alright?” Hank swallowed the frog in his throat at the raw emotion he heard, plain as anything. Had Connor always been like this or, had he changed? Was it Hank’s fault for threatening him, for pushing him again and again?

“Hank?” Connor called with a little more force. “I can tell by your breathing pattern you’re still awake,” he sounded annoyed. 

“Yeah, I’m fine, thanks fer askin’” Hank growled back without any real bite, “... Here. Take this blanket and go crash on the couch- or... whatever it is you do at night. Just stay put. You hear me?” Hank stopped to point at Connor, staring him in the eye with an unrelenting gaze. “I don’t wanna wake up and find you... gone...” he trailed off, half in thought. Connor wondered if Hank may have been remembering something, but there was no way to know.

Connor rolled his eyes and pulled Hank up, dragging him to bed. “If you stay put, then I will,” he gave, pulling the covers over an oddly compliant Hank. “Now, go to sleep, lieutenant. I’ll be here in the morning,” Connor promised.

Like a child in need of reassurance, Hank returned, as a reflex maybe, “Promise?”

It made Connor smile and resist the urge to kiss his forehead. “I promise,” and he intended to keep it. Where would he go, anyway? The most productive place for him to be, as well as the safest, was right there with Hank. 

[k3fanblog]

Hallo K3 Quotes die huur-vrij in mijn brein leven

“Bram, Brambrambrambram-” (Ik had ooit een collega die Bram heette en laten we zeggen dat dit een probleem was.)

“Twee glazen, twee bordjes! Jij was bij Josje!” (Goed voor als je detectives kijkt.)

“Tof. Echt, Super. Ik ben heeeeeel trots op jullie!”

“Zout! Zout! Zout! Ik had zout moeten zeggen!”

“Waar houdt hij van? \ Mij! \ Wat vindt hij belangrijk in het leven? \ Mij!”

“De opkomst van het cynisme als reactie van het volk op de verdrukking van het establishment op de gewone man”

“Weet je wat ik hoor? Bla bla bla bla blaaa bla blaaa.”

“Pointifutilisme”

“Ik heb een WOW dag!”

“Ik, ik heb en bleeeeeeeeh dag”

“Jos, dat is en 40 jarige trucker met een hangsnor.”

“Er rijmt toch niets op dubbele beglazing? \  Dat we het lekker warm hebben dat wekt geen VERBAZING, want we hebben allemaal dubbele BEGLAZING”

“Wat is er nou beter dan dubbele beglazing? Driedubbele beglazing!”

“Alpha Centauri aan Rollende Donder, kom in Rollende Donder … Kom in Rollende Donder … Josje!”

“Ik ben Kristel, jij bent Josje! \ Nu maak je het wel heel ingewikkeld”

“Jij stinkt! Jij stinkt! Jij stinkt!”

“Je liegt! Ik zie je neusvleugels flapperen!”

“Ramen en Deuren Verschuren, voor al uw ramen groot en klein, moet u bij verschuren zijn.”

“Daar ben ik er mee! \ Waarmee? Ik zie ze niet? \ Jij zei toch ga jij eens worstjes halen? \ Neen! Ik zei ga jij eens Josje halen! \ Dan had je wel wat beter kunnen Ar-Ti-Cu-Leeeren! \ Dan had je wel een beetje beter kunen LUISTEREN hè? Vlug naar het station! Die gaat boos zijn.”

“Hoe was Amerika? Groot? en Ver? Heb je Mickey Mouse gezien? En Brad Pitt? \ Ehhh, heel groot, heel ver, gezien en gekust. \ HEB JIJ BRAD PITT GEKUST?!? \ Oh nee andersom, gekust en gezien \ HEB JIJ MICKEY MOUSE GEKUST?!?! \ Ja het is echt een schatje, maar wel veel groter in het echt dan op tv.”

 “Geurende Kous, Geurende Kous. Hij lag daar al jaren, stil te verharen.”

“Inademen. \ *ademt in* En dan? \ Uitademen.”

“Nou hup Karen, snel van die angst af, dan hebben we weer taart.”

[stubbornness-and-spite]

You wake up every morning at the same time and you eat breakfast and you go to work. You like your coworkers and your job and your friends. You live alone, but you're happy. You teach yourself to cook and you start to enjoy cleaning. You invite friends over for dinner a few times a week. You read a book or watch a movie and you go to bed. You sleep well and wake up rested and do it again One day you go to a library. It might be for a research project or it might be for personal interest. Either way, you go. You find a book that looks older than your great-grandparents, but for some reason, it’s available for anyone to read. Something compels you to read it out loud. The room is nearly empty so you figure there’s no reason not to. You have to sound out the words that don’t sound like any language you’ve ever heard, but it’s the Latin alphabet so you assume you’re pronouncing things right. Turns out you are. The room goes black and there’s a flash of light. When you are able to see again, there’s a man standing in front of you who wasn’t there before. He’s short, but otherwise average. You can’t distinguish any of his features, but he has the kind of face that could get lost in a crowd. You’ll realize later, looking back, that you can’t remember what color his eyes were or his hair or his clothes. He sighs and runs a hand through his hair. He fixes you with an impatient look and you’re not entirely sure what happened or what you did, but you know one thing: you definitely made at least one mistake.

The man stares at you. “Well?” He finally says. “Are you going to make an offer?” “An offer?” you ask. It’s an empty and useless question and you know it. There’s so much more that has happened with no explanation, but it’s the only one that has a chance at getting a straight answer. You’re not a diplomat or a poet and you don’t know how to twist your words to get what you want like the man in front of you seems to. The man groans and pinches the bridge of his nose. The gesture seems so human and innocent, but his eyes and stance and aura remind you that there’s no way that he can be. “An offer for your soul,” he said as if he thinks you’re some kind of idiot. “What is it that you want so badly that you’re willing to make a deal for it?” Oh, well that’s certainly interesting. “I don’t want to make any deals,” you tell him. “I’m quite content.” The man laughs coldly and you wonder if he knows how to laugh any other way. “Everyone wants something and no one who tries to summon a demon is timid enough to not admit it.” You consider banging your head on the table, but as you know all too well, it usually doesn’t help. “You’re a demon.” The man stares like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “You want to make a deal for my soul.” The man demon’s lips curl up slightly. “Darling, I’m here because you want me to be. I don’t make a habit of being places where I’m not wanted.” He smirks and your blood runs cold. “There’s very few of those, so they’re easy to avoid.” You nod a little, not really paying attention to what your body is doing. “I wouldn’t say that you’re ‘unwanted’, but to be completely honest, I summoned you by accident.” The demon’s smirk becomes pinched. “Babe, I don’t get summoned by accident. You opened a contract between us. You can either complete the deal and get something out of it or I’m not leaving.” You grimace. “Terribly sorry, then. You’ll be sticking around for a while.” “Fine,” he snaps. “Then you’re buying me coffee, boo.” You nod. You might be willing to turn down a demon when the other option is signing over your soul, but making him mad seems like it might be an even worse mistake than summoning him in the first place. Maybe. ~ It hits you that you desperately need to reassess your life as you sit at a small table in a cafe opposite a demon. You work at a flower shop. You write stories in your free time. You have a small group of close friends. You have a good relationship with your parents. Up until a few hours ago, you thought you had your life in order. “Problem, babes?” the demon snarks at you. His coffee order is disturbingly sweet for a denizen of hell. “Nope,” you reply quickly, your voice jumping up an octave. “No problem at all.” “Nothing I can… fix for you?” he murmurs, leering at you over the rim of his cup. You shake your head frantically. “Nope, no, everything’s fine.” The demon sighs. “Look,” he sighs. “I’m a jerk, not a dick. I’m not going to trick you into making a deal, even if you basically tricked and trapped me. When you make a deal with me, you’re going to want it. I don’t make deals with people who aren’t begging for it. When you make a deal with me, you’ll know it and you’ll be desperate for me. Promise, sweetheart.” You grimace. “So just asking you for something isn’t enough to sell you my soul?” He scowls, looking a little disgusted. “No. It’s not, though unless you’re making a deal, there’s no guarantee I’ll actually do it.” He hesitates, but says, “You do know making a deal isn’t necessarily for your soul, right?” “What?” He takes a long drink of his coffee and sighs. “It’s common practice, sure. A deal is an exchange of intangible things. Something that a mortal wants in exchange for something of equal value. It’s usually for a soul because what else does a human have that is of equal value to their greatest desire and who casts a summoning for anything other than their greatest desire? Magic is half incantations and half intent. I honestly have no idea how you even managed to summon me. Demonic summonings aren’t supposed to take unless the caster is genuinely desperate and willing to do anything to prevent situations!” He huffed, slamming his cup down on the table. “Sorry,” you mutter. You didn’t do it on purpose, but you summoned and bound a demon. He’s trapped until you make a deal and you have no intention of making one. The demon shakes his head, cocky grin returning. “Don’t worry about it, sugar. I’ve been in much worse situations when someone summoned me without wanting a deal than hanging out in the mortal world and getting coffee.” “Um…” You debate not saying anything. This isn’t a friend. This isn’t a blind date. This is a literal demon from hell who wants to make a deal with you. Treating him like a friend or even a person is dangerous and you’re not a thrill seeker. But maybe you are because you ask him anyway. “Do you have a name? I don’t usually get coffee with total strangers.” He barks a laugh. “Yeah, I’ve got a name.” You wait for him to tell you his name, but he doesn’t. “Can I have your name?” His face twitches, but he keeps grinning. “Not a chance, baby boo. You already managed to bind me despite all logic. I’m not handing over my name like an idiot. Call me Berry.” You frown. “Oh-okay, I’m -” He cuts you off. “I know humans aren’t the brightest, but I thought you’d have more sense than that. Don’t give me your damn name. Come up with something else or I’ll just keep calling you whatever I feel like.” You pause. He went from being hostile to almost kind in barely an hour. “Call me…” you trail off. “Think of something good, baby. You’ll be hearing for a long time.” There he was. The creepy demon who was trying to steal your soul. It would be very bad for you to forget that or to think he was actually a person. “Call me Corvus.” “Pretty name for someone pretty. Wanna fly, pretty bird? Wanna make me a trade for some wings of your own?” His grin is dark and his bangs are falling over his face, but you can see the glint of his eyes as he sings his temptations. “No,” you say with a smile. “Everyone I love is on the ground. I might not be clever, but I’m not dumb enough to make a deal with loopholes that big.” He tips back his coffee cup and downs the last drops like a shot. “I thought you just weren’t dumb enough to make a deal.” You take another slow sip of your tea, not taking your eyes off of him. “That too.” ~ He ends up following you home. You’re not sure exactly what you expected him to do, but your apartment is not meant to house two people and certainly not one person and a demon. He looks around disdainfully from behind you as you open the door. You walk in but he doesn’t follow. You turn to look at him questioningly and see a mix of disgust and humiliation on his face. “Gotta invite me in, sweetie,” he snaps. “Can’t cross the threshold until you do.” Realization dawns on you. “I can just… not invite you in?” The demon’s hands curl into fists and his eyes flash, but a second later, his cocky grin is back and you wonder if you imagined it. “Sure, hon,” he says with a laugh. “You could just not invite me in. You’d just have a very pissed off demon on your doorstep the moment you came out.” His face really does darken as he leans back to look around the hall. “I may not be able to hurt you directly until after we make a deal, but your neighbors certainly haven’t bound me.” You swallow hard and force a hospitable smile. “Berry, please come in.” He grins sickeningly and pats your head as he walks by you and into your house. “There now. That wasn’t so hard, was it, sugarplum?” You don’t respond. He whirls around. “I’d suggest answering me when I ask you a question, darling, especially when you just suggested leaving me outside for the night.” He stalks over and leans into your space. “That wasn’t so hard, was it, sugarplum?” “No,” you mutter, trying to avoid his eyes, but he’s so close that he’s all you can see. “It wasn’t.” He smirks, his nose twitching. “Good job, birdie. Now I’m tired. Show me where I’m sleeping tonight.” He pauses and his smirk widens into a grin that shows off his sharp teeth. “For the foreseeable future.”

[chocolate-tequila]

[[Sansan-- Clearing bodies after the battle. This is a fic I may give multiple parts too. Likes/Reblogs/Comments always appreciated! This will be continued on AO3 (https://archiveofourown.org/works/18687181/chapters/44317873)]]

Everyone had gathered in the great room, a fire flickering in the hearth, offering a small bit of warmth and filling the space with a dull glow. Sansa watched as everyone organized themselves to the best of their abilities. She watched as Gendry spotted Arya from across the room, and ran to her, lifting her off of her feet and pulling her against his chest. Sansa watched as Daenerys walked into the room, looking stricken and defeated, and found Jon, who held her up as she sobbed. Sansa watched also as Brienne and Jaime walked into the room, a little too close for just friends.

She sighed heavily, glancing around the room. Grey Worm had found Missandei, and they were tangled in a passionate kiss. Samwell and Gilly were grinning despite the hell around them, fawning over their young child. Sansa felt the tears in her eyes, and she swallowed the lump in her throat, trying to force herself to remain composed. She wanted to feel nothing but happiness for these reunited lovers, but all she felt was envy. Envy and sorrow.

Sansa excused herself from the room, going largely unnoticed. The bodies outside needed to be cleaned-up. She could do that. She didn’t need to suppress her tears for the dead, so she let them fall as she gripped the ankles of a fallen wight, using all her strength to tug it towards the gates leading outside. “Come on,” she cried, huffing as she dragged the full weight of the thing. She glanced around. There were hundreds more. “Please,” she choked-out, giving another heave. The corpse didn’t budge, and she stared at it long and hard. She recognized it as one of her men, and sobbed again. “Move!” she shouted.

Nothing happened as she tugged, her strength waning. She closed her eyes as she made to pull the fallen soldier/wight, grunting through her tears. Shock overcame here when the body easily moved with her this time.

She opened her tear-filled eyes to see Sandor Clegane standing in front of her, easily holding the top-half of the victim and moving it with Sansa’s motions. Without words Sansa readjusted her grip, lifted the wight’s legs and moved towards the exit. Sandor silently followed.

Sansa led them out of the gate, as far as she could manage, and then gently set the bottom-half of the soldier down. She was surprised at Sandor’s gentleness as he rested the top-half of their fallen friend on the ground. 

Their eyes met and Sandor walked towards her, still saying nothing. Sansa had no words. Instead she threw herself into his chest, sobs wracking her body. She felt his strong arms wrap around her, pulling her close. 

She nuzzled deep into his broad chest. His armor had been removed, and the supple leather was warm from his body heat. The warmth was greatly welcomed. She had given her cloak to a returning fighter who had been shaking from the cold, and the air out here chilled her to the bone. “I’m cold,” she said sadly, unsure of why.

Sandor’s arms released her, and she was about to frown when she felt herself being lifted into the air. One broad arm was behind her back, the other under her knees, cradling her. She wrapped her arms around his neck, resting her head against his collarbone. Suddenly the cold melted away around her, and the utter terror in her heart and mind dulled slightly. 

Sansa lifted her head up, tentatively placing a kiss on Sandor’s scarred cheek as he walked. He stopped when she did, his brown eyes shifting down to her, his heavy brow making him look tired, and a little confused. 

She matched his gaze for a minute, before sinking back against his chest. He carried her back through the threshold of the castle, keeping her warm all the while.

[theheroof]

"Sorry I wasn't there to thaw you out"

A/N: if Theron was there when they thawed the outlander

5 years...Theron hadn't seen her in 5years because of the damn...Eternal Empire.They took Eden away from him so when Lana said that she might be alive...Theron JUMPED at the chance to help.

And when Lana told him to stay put...well Theron wasn't happy.

"Lana you can't expect me to stay here...I already lost her for 5 years already"he argued.

"I understand that but you are letting emotion cloud your judgment...me and Koth will keep her safe"Lana promised.

Theron just shook his head looking up at Lana."I am coming..."he said firmly leaving no room for arguement.

"You're insufferable."Lana groaned but looked down.She cared about Eden too and she knew she would be worried sick if Theron WASN'T there."But fine...but you need to be careful..."she finished. 

"When aren't I?"Theron smirked as Lana shook her head at this a little annoyed as she walked towards the ship...Theron on her heels this time,

It was time to save her.

Theron was nervous...would the cure even work? Carbonite poisoning was nasty stuff...could cause blindness,paralysis...and probably a lot of other symptoms cause she's been in there for 5 years.

Lana did carefully type in the code...the metal like ice melting away...revealing a woman with white brown robes and dark blonde hair.

"Don't try to move you're dying...I may have your cure but I'm not going to lie...this is gonna hurt" Lana said shooting her with the dart as she fell forward holding her chest.

Theron ran over to her side as brown eyes looked up at him."Theron?"the woman managed.

"Hey Eden...it's been awhile hasn't it?"

[generic-connor]

39: send a disturbing package to my muse. (from me to me.)

Connor never assumed that he would have an average day at the precinct, because that was the sort of thing one could never predict. He always had an idea about the ways in which things could go wrong, and kept an eye out for anything out of the ordinary. There was no way he could have predicted this, though... As he and his partner made their way in at a record breaking 8am, something was already amiss. 

A crowd was gathered in the bullpen, surrounding a rather large package. There was a lot of chatter, making it difficult for Connor to put together any conversations, but he caught enough to know that he needed to know more. He pushed past the crowd without a word to Hank, he was too focused for that, too driven into action. His eyes searched, scanning the package and noting two things; there was an android inside, and it was addressed to him. 

Cold dread settled in around his pump regulator, causing him to falter and hesitate, if only for a moment. Chris was the first to speak directly to him, offering a compassionate hand on his shoulder. “We haven’t been able to track down the sender yet. It’s been confirmed by the post office that there isn’t anything dangerous inside-”

“I know,” Connor interrupted, “There may be fingerprints on the inside, or ... on the... contents...” He trailed off, swallowing the knot in his throat. 

“Alright, c’mon, outta the way... Don’t you have shit to do?” Hank drawled, still sleepy even after his first cup of coffee. He pushed his way through, shooing the crowd back to their desks and taking his place by Connor’s side, where he belonged. Connor was grateful for his presence, turning his head slightly to side eye his partner in a wordless gesture of gratitude. Hank placed a hand on his shoulder and nodded, assurance. 

With a deep intake of breath, Connor decided he had to open it then and there, audience or no. He didn’t like to have his personal business on display, but this was a special instance. It was personal as well as professional, and he wasn’t going to wait any longer. Steeling himself for whatever he might find inside, he placed his hand over the access panel, signaling the box to open itself. 

He was not prepared to find an RK800 identical to himself in every way, save for the ridiculous costume it was wearing. It appeared to be some kind of stripper’s version of a Santa Claus suit, and it made Connor feel exposed and uncomfortable just looking at it. His counterpart in the box stirred to life, blinking and stretching in a realistically human fashion. 

Once he was awake, his eyes turned instantly to Connor, and held him there for what felt like an eternity. Large, innocent, brown eyes stared wide into his own, equally brown, but far more mature. Their mutual reverie was broken by Hank coughing uncomfortably, earning him a simple look from his partner. Before anything else was done, Connor slid his charcoal grey suit jacket from his shoulders and placed it reassuringly over the RK800 in the box. 

“Everything is going to be okay,” he asserted, glancing once more to Hank, who nodded once, confirming. While it would be impossible for any of them to know what the future held, with any real certainty, Connor knew, in a manner of speaking, that it really would be okay. He had a plethora of advanced tools at his disposal, a sharp mind to match, and most of all, he had his partner, Hank, who he knew beyond a doubt, would always have his back.