#Emerging Markets for Light Weapons

[mastergarryblogs]

Inside the Light Weapon Market: Trends, Innovations, and What’s Next

Introduction to the Light Weapon Market

The light weapon market is experiencing rapid growth, driven by a combination of technological advancements, escalating global security concerns, and an increasing need for military, law enforcement, and civilian applications. Light weapons, which include firearms like rifles, machine guns, and grenade launchers, along with innovative smart weapon technologies, are integral to both defense and security strategies worldwide. The market is anticipated to witness a sustained compound annual growth rate (CAGR) of 5.23% from 2025 to 2032, positioning it for substantial expansion.

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Market Value and Forecast

In 2024, the global light weapon market was valued at approximately USD 13.37 billion, with expectations for continued growth as defense budgets rise and new technologies evolve. Notably, light weapons make up roughly 0.7% of the overall global defense market. As countries around the world invest in modernizing their military and law enforcement capabilities, the demand for more advanced, efficient, and lightweight weapon systems is intensifying.

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Key Market Drivers and Challenges

Growth Drivers

Several critical factors are contributing to the expansion of the light weapon market:

Increased Defense Spending: Nations worldwide are prioritizing defense spending in response to growing geopolitical tensions and evolving security threats. This has led to a demand for technologically advanced, lightweight weapons that offer superior operational flexibility and performance.

Advancements in Weapon Technologies: The development of smart weapons, which integrate features like biometric authentication, advanced targeting systems, and artificial intelligence (AI), is driving innovation in the market. These systems are enhancing weapon performance, increasing user control, and improving security.

Demand from Military and Law Enforcement: As military and law enforcement agencies modernize their equipment and strategies, the need for versatile and efficient light weapons continues to grow. These weapons are crucial in a wide range of operational scenarios, from urban warfare to counter-terrorism and peacekeeping missions.

Civilian Participation in Recreational Shooting: The increasing popularity of shooting sports and self-defense needs among civilians is expanding the market for light weapons, especially in regions where personal security concerns are high.

Market Challenges

Despite the growth potential, several challenges exist:

Regulatory Barriers: Stringent regulations around firearm ownership, export restrictions, and international arms treaties pose significant hurdles to manufacturers and buyers. This restricts access to certain markets and limits the global reach of light weapon producers.

Political Instability and Economic Fluctuations: Political unrest in key markets and fluctuations in defense spending may hinder long-term growth, especially in regions where budget constraints limit military modernization efforts.

Segmentation of the Light Weapon Market

The global light weapon market can be segmented based on product type, technology, application, end user, and distribution channels.

By Product Type

Rifles: The dominant segment in the market, valued at around USD 8.5 billion in 2024, rifles are expected to continue their leading position. With military modernization initiatives globally, advanced rifles, featuring enhanced accuracy, mobility, and modularity, will see robust demand.

Machine Guns: Known for their role in sustained fire operations, machine guns are a key component of light weapon systems, especially for military and law enforcement use.

Grenade Launchers and RPGs: Both grenade launchers and rocket-propelled grenades (RPGs) are crucial for infantry units, with demand expected to remain steady due to their effectiveness in combat situations.

Man-Portable Air Defense Systems (MANPADS): These systems, designed to target aircraft, continue to see demand due to their strategic importance in modern warfare.

Other Products: Mortars, heavy machine guns, and other tactical weaponry also contribute to the market’s diversification.

By Technology

Smart Weapons: Smart weapon technology is the fastest-growing segment in the market, with projections to reach USD 4.5 billion by 2032. The integration of biometric features, AI-driven targeting, and enhanced user interface systems is transforming the capabilities of light weapons, making them more accurate and user-friendly.

Manual Weapons: While manual weapons continue to account for a substantial portion of the market, the increasing demand for smart weapons is gradually overtaking the traditional firearm technologies.

By Application

Combat: The demand for light weapons for combat applications remains the largest segment, driven primarily by military and law enforcement sectors.

Self-Defense: Civilian demand for personal defense weapons, especially handguns and compact rifles, is also increasing due to rising security concerns in many regions.

Sport and Recreational Use: With the growing popularity of shooting sports and hunting, the demand for firearms designed for recreational use is contributing to market growth.

By End User

Military: The largest segment in terms of revenue, the military sector invests heavily in modern weaponry, including rifles, machine guns, and smart weapons. The ongoing modernization of armed forces around the world ensures strong demand for light weapons.

Law Enforcement: Police and security agencies continue to upgrade their weapon systems, adopting advanced rifles and smart weapons for enhanced security operations.

Civilians: The civilian sector, driven by self-defense and recreational needs, is increasingly adopting firearms, particularly handguns and sporting rifles.

By Distribution Channels

Direct Sales: Government and defense contractors account for the majority of direct sales. This channel is expected to maintain its dominance through 2032.

Retail Distribution: Increasing civilian demand for light weapons has bolstered retail channels, particularly in regions with higher rates of firearm ownership.

Wholesalers and Distributors: These intermediaries play a key role in reaching broader market segments, especially for law enforcement agencies and private security firms.

Regional Market Analysis

North America

The North American light weapon market is robust, driven by both military spending and civilian demand, particularly in the United States. The region is also a leader in developing cutting-edge smart weapons, with companies like Sig Sauer and Smith & Wesson pioneering new technologies.

Europe

Europe's market growth is fueled by defense modernization efforts, particularly within NATO countries. The demand for advanced, lightweight weapons for special forces and tactical units remains strong, with European manufacturers like FN Herstal and Heckler & Koch continuing to lead the region.

Asia-Pacific

The Asia-Pacific market is seeing substantial growth, driven by the increasing defense budgets of countries like China, India, and Japan. The need for modernized infantry weapons, including rifles and smart weapons, is expected to surge as these nations enhance their military capabilities.

Middle East and Africa

Political instability and security concerns in the Middle East and Africa continue to drive the demand for light weapons. Countries in these regions are increasingly investing in small arms and tactical weaponry to combat terrorism and internal conflicts.

Competitive Landscape

The light weapon market is highly competitive, with a mix of established players and emerging innovators. Leading manufacturers include:

Sturm, Ruger & Co.

Smith & Wesson

Heckler & Koch

Sig Sauer

FN Herstal

These companies are at the forefront of innovation, with a strong focus on product development, modular designs, and smart weapon integration.

Recent developments, such as Sig Sauer's modular rifle platform and FN Herstal’s lightweight assault rifles, highlight the market’s shift toward customizable, advanced weapon systems.

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 Conclusion

The global light weapon market is poised for significant growth due to rising defense budgets, increasing security concerns, and technological advancements in weaponry. The demand for advanced, lightweight firearms, especially those integrated with smart technologies, is driving innovation in both military and civilian sectors. While the market faces challenges such as regulatory barriers and geopolitical instability, the future remains promising for manufacturers and end-users alike.

This dynamic sector continues to evolve, offering opportunities for strategic players to leverage cutting-edge technologies and expand into new markets. The growth trajectory of the market, combined with the increasing need for personalized, modular weapon systems, ensures that light weapons will continue to play a pivotal role in both defense and personal security applications for years to come.

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[a-mint-bear]

The Villain is Obsessed With Me

You're the newest big-name hero in town, and one villain in particular has been giving you more trouble than the rest. You can usually handle her, but she keeps coming back for more. Her power is terrifying, and she doesn't care that she hurts people. The only thing she seems to care about is you.

[content warnings: blood, violence]

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Earth’s top superhero group, the Champions of Right, which the public lovingly called “The Core” (despite the obvious lack of an E in the acronym) had recently lost a lot of heroes. They’d sacrificed themselves fighting and defeating some huge intergalactic evil and the team needed new members. And now, you were one of the “core” heroes. 

You’d been called up to the big leagues, which came out of nowhere, considering you were just some lucky idiot who got their powers in a random accident. But you were strong, and you had solar/light energy-based abilities, which your agent (which you suddenly needed?) said was really great for metrics, “a real light vs. the darkness thing going for you.”

You had above average strength and agility, and it was harder to hurt you, all of it coming from stored-up solar power in your skin through your suit. What was unique to you was your ability to convert the light into what you called “hard-light energy”, where you could make things like shields and weapons; stronger when you’d been in the sun. but if you’d been fighting for too long out of direct sunlight, it would get weaker and weaker until it would just fizzle out. Then you were just a human who could take more of a beating than the average human, until you couldn’t.

You went from mostly playing backup to the big heroes, stopping small crimes and the occasional giant monster fight to being one of The Heroes that people called for all the disasters and big bads trying to take over the world or steal the Eiffel Tower or whatever stupid plot they came up with. It was honestly exhausting, but people were depending on you, so you just had to go with it. 

You’d been on the job well into the evening when you’d gotten an emergency call from headquarters. They had a lead on something they’d been looking into, and it seemed like if you didn’t do something about, they’d lose their lead. Everyone else was on call with some kind of monster coming out of the sea, and evacuating the nearby city before it could wander onto land. 

You broke into some kind of underground facility, it looked long abandoned, but you’d been told that this was where everything was going down. Your eyes glancing around the room, you were searching for signs of what you came for, gauging how you could approach the situation. Your powers weren’t as strong here, with no sunlight. You were running on reserves, but you were the only hero available, so of course you came.

There’d been a rash of abductions in the city you mainly worked in, and it had this particular villain group’s prints all over it. They were the sort of organization that was so secretive, they didn’t even have an official name. They weren’t interested in things like world domination or the like. They were known for more underground type crimes; kidnapping and ransoms, human trafficking, assassinations, and working as hired superpowered muscle for the highest bidder. 

So chances were good that they were taking people for something… not great.

It was considered “lower priority” than the monster, so they’d only sent you. You were known to be able to handle this sort of thing on your own, even before you’d gotten promoted. Team-ups were a whole thing in your world, it was never just “Hey, thanks for the help!”, it would spin into interviews and marketing and rumours of relationships, and if the other hero ever got caught up in something sketchy, you were on everyone’s radar. It was too messy for you. So being on a “team” was new to you, but they let you be most of the time.

But now that you were on top of the proverbial superhero heap, you had bigger bad guys coming at you. And you were usually able to take them on no problem.

But there was only one villain you weren’t quite sure how to handle, for a few reasons. 

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“Oh! You’re here!”

She was standing alone deep in the lower levels of the compound in a wide, dark room. The ceiling was high, but it still somehow felt claustrophobic.

She was about your height, but a tiny bit taller with those boots she wore. Her bright pink hair stood out against the dark, both of the room and her villain outfit. Her face had some bruises and bandages on it, the remnants of an old split lip still lingering… It seemed like she was still a little roughed up from your last encounter.

“I was hoping they’d send you!” She sighed a dreamy sigh, you could practically see the hearts floating over her head. She really played the lovesick fool well, and it was her go-to move with you. 

It wouldn’t be hard to get around her, but the whole thing still made you nervous. She had that usual huge, unsettling smile as she watched you come in, despite her still-healing injuries, she still smiled as she stared. She was practically bouncing with excitement. 

This had to be some kind of trap.

“It’s you again, sunshine! I missed you…” she pretended to pout, like you had disappointed her, absently twirling a curl in her short hair. “You don’t call, you don’t text… What’s a girl supposed to think?”

Brushing past her usual theatrics, you ask her what her group was trying to pull, as they usually didn’t make themselves this noticeable.

“Ignorin’ me… rude.” she huffed, crossing her arms over her chest. “Sorry sunny, I’m just following orders. I can’t just go babblin’ on about all the little details, not even for you.”

You demanded to know where their victims were, taking a defensive stance. 

“Oh, I can tell you that one.” she took a step closer, and you took a fighting stance. “Most of the randoms we snatched up are already on their way. But the Big Boss said I could keep a few.”

You froze, your eyes going wide. You knew it was a possibility as soon as you saw you were dealing with her, but you hoped against hope she wouldn’t.

This woman’s powers were terrifying.

She called herself Whisper. Though, she often went by Whisp as a casual alias. No legal name known. She was agile and sneaky, able to disappear into her surroundings. She was really good with a pair of knives and she didn’t like to play fair, which in all honesty was expected for a villain. But her main ability was what made her so frightening.

As her name implied, if she got in someone’s ear they fell under a kind of trance, becoming her “puppet” until she lost consciousness. No one knew how exactly it worked, but there were few who could resist it. Her victims would do whatever she wanted them to until someone stopped her, usually you. Other heroes weren’t so lucky. 

To her, it didn’t matter if her puppets got hurt or worse. She knew you were the type of hero to never leave innocent people behind or sacrifice anyone for “the greater good”. So she never showed up alone.

She snapped her fingers, and from the edges of the dark room came the shambling figures of who you suspected were your missing persons. Their eyes were red, like her own, the tell-tale sign that she’d taken control. 

You pulled up a hard light shield, the warm glow of it lighting up the dark just enough, her puppet bouncing off it before coming at you again. You spotted another coming for you from the dark and blasted a bit of concentrated light from your hand, temporarily blinding them. The shield flickered a bit, but held strong for now. You couldn’t keep it up.

They were throwing punches at you and trying to grab you, but you leapt away, not wanting to hurt any of them. They were coming from behind you now, there had to be at least a dozen. They kept coming, you knew they didn’t care about their safety. They always fought as hard as she needed them to. And they always came at you harder than other heroes because she knew you wouldn’t hurt them.

You couldn’t let her get close, even though she wanted that more than anything. 

“You better do something soon~” she warned you in an eerie sing-song voice. “You know they won’t stop.”

Knocking another hostage away, you charged up just enough for some hard light shards and shot them at her. She managed to knock two away with her knife, a short burst of light dying as she deflected them, but the third one nicked her shoulder. A long, thin burn glowed there for a few seconds before fading into the dark before she hopped back a little.

“Geez, you got me good, sunshine.” she winced, rolling her injured shoulder. “But it looks like you’re not glowing as bright as you usually do… Poor thing. Are you feeling tired? You wanna call a timeout?”

A swift kick to one of the puppet’s legs sent them down mostly harmlessly when another two jumped you, grabbing your arms and putting you in a hold while a few more leapt on too, keeping you in place. You were struggling against them when Whisper stepped into view.

“I’ve been watching you for a long time, hero…” she smiled sweetly, flipping a knife in the air. “Even back when you were just a rookie.”

She was getting too close, but you didn’t want to hurt the people she was controlling. Your mind was racing, trying to find a way out.

“You’ve always been so… timid.” she sighed, gingerly touching the edge of her knife, inspecting it as she went on. “All that power and you waste it helping these nobodies… “

One of the people moved close to her as you tried not to hurt the ones attacking you, and before you could reach them, Whisper held a knife to the woman’s throat. Her eyes never left you as the others held you down. She could see your hesitation, your fear.

“You care about these randoms, huh?” she giggled, a sweet sound to contrast the knife pressing into the woman’s skin. “I watch you run all over the city protecting them, even though they’ve never done anything for you… Keeping them from getting crushed by falling buildings, grabbing them before their cars run off collapsing bridges, flying off with them before they get smushed by a giant monster…”

“...and for what?” she frowned, grabbing the woman by her hair and yanking her head back, giving you a good view of her throat. “So they can ogle and gossip and say you’re not as good as the last batch of goody goodies? They can put you on posters and snap pics of you on their phones and think of you like you belong to them? So they can keep you under their boot, nice and docile… So they can keep using you?”

You recognized the woman she was holding. She was a hostage in a bomb threat not even a month ago, and you’d been the one to save her and get her out before the blast went off. She’d been on the news…

Were all of them… people you’d saved? You didn’t have time to think about it as you saw the knife tilt slightly, pressing into her neck, a trickle of blood trailing down to her chest.

You had to move.

You threw off her puppets, rushing Whisper. A punch to her stomach sent her flying back, you caught the woman in your arms, pressing your hand to the slight injury. But she was still a danger, she reached up and scratched your cheek with her nails before you could react. Normally, it wouldn’t leave a mark, but your energy levels were getting dangerously low.

You had to end this before someone got seriously hurt. But you couldn’t let her face get anywhere near yours.

You’d only fallen to her power once, but you were lucky that one of your more invulnerable teammates had been there to take the beating instead of innocent people in the street. Eventually, something snapped you out of it, you still weren’t sure what, and you’d knocked Whisper out before anything else could happen.

You made sure she never got close after that. 

She rolled to her side when you tried to grab her, hopping up and rounding on you with a kick to your side. You were able to block her, but she caught you off guard with a knife in each hand, swiping up at you and narrowly missing. You ducked under and tackled her to the ground, and she laughed as she hit the concrete. 

She’d landed flat on her stomach, but before she could struggle out of your grip, your knee landed squarely in the center of her back. A choked, pained cry sounded like it was squeezed out of her, but it was quickly replaced by a wheezy laugh. You grabbed her arms and secured them behind her back, throwing up a small shield at your back to keep the puppets away. 

“Oh?? You sure do like… h-holding me down, sunny…” she giggled, her eyes bright under her long lashes. A bit of blood was dripping from the corner of her mouth “You’re so warm… Let me up, I wanna t-... tell you something…”

You yelled at her to knock it off, but she just kept laughing, even though she sounded like she was in pain. You wished she would just call all of it off already, you hated the whole situation. You hated hurting anyone, even if they were a villain. 

“Th-this!” she wheezed. “This is… my favorite part!” her face was turned far enough to the side that you could see a lone red eye staring up at you. “Don’t… look away… don’t let go…”

They could’ve been sweet words, coming from anyone else and NOT in this particular situation. You dug your knee in a little harder, shouting for her to shut up, telling her to release the hostages, or else.

But of course, she did not. She called your bluff. 

“Look at me, sunshine…” She was smiling up at you, color in her cheeks. “You’re so… beautiful. And you’re gonna be mine…”

You were starting to lose your patience. The only way you were going to stop this was if you knocked her out.

But before you could do anything else, something slammed into you. Your shield had shattered, and one of her puppets was sprawled out on your back. Then another joined her, and two more. You tried to shake them off, but you couldn’t while holding onto Whisper. 

They weighed you down, pressing you closer and closer to her. It had to be hurting her more than you, but you couldn’t stop them, and she wouldn’t. Her face was too close to yours-

“There you are…”

The world suddenly went horribly quiet, and all you could see was her. You felt the other puppets get off of you, but you didn’t get up. Whisper sighed, turning in your arms, no longer pinned down. Almost being gently held by you.

“It’s been a while, sunshine… since you’ve been mine…” she smiled, touching your face. “I remember last time. You were beating the snot outta me when I crashed through that support beam. The whole upper level of that parking garage came down on us, and what did you do?”

She smiled wide, her red eyes shining as she held onto your face with both hands. 

“You dove for me! You… saved me, even though we were fighting! Imagine that!” she bit her lip, laughing. “All that rubble falling down around us and we’re just crouched together, I was all beat up but you held up that ceiling with one hand! And held me so close, protected me, even though you knew what I’d do… Not many hero types would put themselves in harm’s way for someone like me…”

She got up, and you felt compelled to get on your knees, doing just that as she stretched out the kink in her back you’d given her. 

“I’ve robbed, maimed, tortured and killed oh so many people… and you still saw my life as worth saving.” She groaned, her muscles sore and burning. “And I knew I just had to have you.”

She knelt down and pulled you to her, kissing you deeply with no warning. But you didn’t want to push her away. She felt so nice, you couldn’t control the moan you let out. She grinned against your lips. 

“I kept coming at you, and no matter what I said or did, you never ended me. My team kept busting me out of custody and you kept putting me back in, but you never let me get hurt, at least not by you…”

“Hell, sometimes I’d go out and start some good ol’ fashioned mayhem just to get your attention! And you never let me down. You beat me up good, but you always held me so tenderly when I got knocked out, like you really cared about me. Sometimes I would pretend to get knocked out and release them just to feel you hold me, I love looking up at you while you fussed over me, feeling you brush the hair out of my face, patching up any really bad wounds you could before letting the government take me ‘cause you knew they’d half-ass it. And I did it again and again…”

She kissed you again, and you kissed her back, her words still ringing in your ears. Did you… care about her? Or were you so deep under her control right then that you couldn’t even think about any alternative? All you could focus on was her lips on yours, and how you wanted to belong to her, and you told her so. You told her how much you wanted to be hers.

“You are mine, sunshine!” she nuzzled her forehead to yours, her short, pink curls brushing your cheeks. “Mine mine mine…” 

You could taste her blood on your lips, but you didn’t mind. You felt a strange, overpowering, almost mournful feeling. You told her you were sorry for hurting her.

“Oh, don’t look so down…” she cooed, your face nuzzling into her hand. “Any other goody goody puts their hands on me and I’m super pissed off, but I never minded a little hands-on time with you. I love lookin’ at the bruises and scrapes you leave after our little tiffs. I just wish you were the bitin’ type! If you left me some of those, it’d make my day!”

Watching her lovingly touch the bandages on her face, you asked her if she wanted you to bite her now. She smiled so wide, her cheeks burning.

“Tempting!” She giggled, waving you off with a huge grin. “But I’ll wait for the day when you bite me ‘cause you really want to, s’only fair.”

“But I’ll kiss you as much as I want.” she pulled you to your feet by your suit’s collar, planting another one on you. “‘Cause I see the way you look at me. How you blush when I flirt with you even when there’s mortal danger going on. How you get so shy when your teammates hear me calling you every pet name under the sun. I can feel your eyes on me whenever you and your super-buddies get me in custody with a dampener gag on me so I can’t make anymore puppets. You always look so crushed, like a sad little puppy. Like you wish I wasn’t so bad, so we could be together…”

Did you look at her that way? You couldn’t remember anymore. All you wanted to do was look at her now, touch her… feel her kiss you again and again. 

“And now, we can be together!” she grinned, practically bouncing in place with joy. “I gotta keep you out of the sun and locked up when I sleep, but before you know it, you’ll love me so much on your own and you’ll want me sleeping in your arms and we can be together all the time! Maybe I can even take you on some night jobs and we can be the best villain power couple they ever saw! Maybe…”

All her excitement seemed to wilt, and for the first time since you’d appeared to stop her, her eyes wouldn’t meet yours.

“Maybe someday… I won’t even need to use my power on you.”

She held out a trembling hand to you, and you kissed her palm, the red light in your eyes reflected in her own when she finally looked at you again. 

“Someday you’ll want me just like I want you.” She mumbled, almost promising you and herself. “It won’t be long, just… just hold me tight, sunshine…”

You did, and she sighed in your arms, nuzzling your chest. There were tears in her eyes. You asked her what was wrong, and she clung to you.

“I just…” Her voice was straining, choked up. “I just wish… you loved me for real…”

You held her face in your hands, wiping her tears away with your thumb. Her eyes went wide when you kissed her, practically melting in your arms. She was so warm. 

You told her you did love her, you had for a while. But neither of you were sure if it was true, or just part of her control. Her deepest wish.

“Say you’re mine.” she asked. It wasn’t a demand, or a command, but you still felt compelled. 

You did.

“Say you’ll always be mine.”

You did.

“Say you’ll never, ever leave me.”

You did, with a kiss to her injured shoulder. 

She called off her puppets, sending them away. You didn’t know if she would release them or if they would be part of her team’s plans, but you didn’t want to think about that. 

She wrapped her arms around your neck, and you scooped her up into your arms. It was a familiar feeling. You’d carried her before, just as she’d said, and you didn’t know if it was your own mind or her power that had the memories steeped in such a warm, comforting feeling.

“Give me a lift, sunshine.” she pressed into your chest, suddenly seeming so worn down. “I need a nap… and I’m pretty sure you broke a couple of my ribs…”

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i feel like she could've been more pathetic, but i like how this turned out. she came out more unstable than a girlfailure, but she is who she is, i suppose (plus, i have a reeeaaaalll loser girl im planning to write, so that should make up for any possible disappointment lol✌️)

the header could be better, but im ultimately happy with it. her eye placement might need some editing, but that's a problem for future me lol they always look like they're in the right place until it's done 😩

she's stealin kisses, im not super comfy writing yanderes that push physical boundaries, even tho thats practically a staple of some yanderes, so i thought this would be a good level

[portraitofalinkonfyre]

May I ask for an emergency request?

I haven't been in the best mindset these days and losing motivation to the point I don't even talk to my partner and drawing and talking and moving feels a lot more like a chore now. It's most likely seasonal depression since it's rainy days here but it still sucks

May I have either four or time or twilight taking care of the reader who can barely move due to seasonal depression ? Thank you

I hope everyone who is going through the same problems a good day

Omg of course! I'm so sorry you're feeling that way, so I really hope this helps.

I'm Still Here

Pairing: Four x Reader

Warning(s): none!

Notes: I couldn't decide between those three so you're getting all of them lol. Inspired by "I'm Still Here" from Treasure Planet.

Masterlist

The curtains were drawn. 

It was the first thing your bleary senses recognized, followed quickly by just how dark the room was, save for the on-and-off glimmers that shone beneath thick, light-repellent fabric. Something smelled warm, but you could hardly register it with your nose mashed so far in the contained fluff of your pillow, breathing in dust particles and something so familiar you dared call it home. 

There was a knock on the door. 

Your gaze flicked to the shadow-dark oak, but you didn't get up. Perhaps it was the sheet's fault—so tangled around the shape of your legs that movement was all but a dream—or maybe the dreadful heaviness brewing in your bones, far too cloying to justify any attempt to break free. Your tongue felt as though it was stuck in molasses, no freer than the fly caught within a spider's web. 

Someone called your name. More knocking. Your eyelids fluttered shut; maybe if you pretended to be asleep—

Click. 

The squeak of protesting hinges filled the room as the door swung open, a burst of bright light illuminating the room with a flourish that made you want to clamp your hand over your eyes and scream. Soft creaks followed even softer footsteps, and you could practically feel the moment the intruder reached out and—

"Hey, are you okay?"

Four. It was Four. Sweet, kind, knowing Four, who patched weapons and hearts alike. 

Your answer was mindful and demure. "Ughhhhhhhhh."

Four's chuckle was light, yet you felt it as though he was pressed against you, though you supposed the forge-worn hand resting on the curve of your shoulder was good enough. "That bad?"

It was. It was that bad. 

The bed dipped when a new weight settled atop the blanket-laden edge, and your body slid a few inches to lay against it. Even through the fabric, Four was warm. 

"...Aren't you supposed be at market?" you asked slowly, a bit unwilling to prematurely shatter the thick silence. 

The Hero's smile was audible... and palpable. When was the last time you'd eaten? Did you care? "It can wait."

Like hell it could. You lifted your head, wiped something distinctly crusty from the corner of your mouth, and forced forth the final boss of all deadpans. "You're burning daylight."

"I burn a lot of things," came Four's response. Hylia, he was such a boy, but if it didn't bring the tiniest crescent of a smile to your face...

The pillow let out a distinctly offended poof when you re-buried your face within its downy depths, and it would have felt nice, if not for the striking knowledge that you were being watched by someone who ran a business and paid his taxes on time. What a guy. What a life. "Goodnight."

"It's midday," goddesses, you just knew his eyes were violet. It was like a sixth sense. 

"Good," you paused, and, just to be somewhat correct, muttered: "...day."

There was no response. 

There was, however, a resounding shuff as a new weight plopped next to you. 

"Four," you said through a self-inflicted mouthful of pillow. 

"Hm?" 

You were unimpressed, and somehow more energized than you'd been in... well, you weren't exactly sure how long it had been, but it was certainly depressing and potentially ignore-able for the sake of mental health. "You're in my bed."

"You say that like I didn't build the frame," he shot back, quick as a whip with violet eyes and a silver tongue, though there was no real bite lurking between any such syllables. 

You yawned, and it was the perfect cover-up for mid-situation action plans. The blankets were feeling cozier by the second, but that was neither here nor there, not when you had something far more interesting less than a foot away. "...It's midday."

Four was unfazed. He usually was. "So it would seem."

You tried not to laugh. You really did. 

You awoke feeling grossly refreshed. 

Sleep had come as easily as your newfound company, even as you lay prone on your back, measuring your breaths so not to jostle the arm loosely slung across your stomach. A gentle pattering filled the room as droplets of rain battered the covered panes, and only the barest flash of lightning managed to slip past the thick curtains. 

You spared the barest glance at the man currently smushed into your side. Even dressed like he could spring out of the window to do battle at the slightest indication, Four had no right to look half as comfy as he did, especially when you probably smelled like you'd never bathed and looked more than half the part. 

Still, it was nice. Still, you tilted your head just enough to allow a single cheek to brush the top of his head. 

Don't wake up, you thought, half on some insane whim from the depths of your regained consciousness. Don't leave me.

But it wasn't meant to be. A soft groan was your first indication, as was the subtle tightening of forge-worn fingers at your covered hip. Then, suspiciously, a slow yawn, and you found that staring at the ceiling with closed eyes was the answer to none of your problems. 

Four's voice was rough with sleep and just as handsome. "You up?"

"No," you responded, more on frail instinct than anything else. With luck, he'd deem you too socially ungovernable to be forced from bed. With luck, you could forget who and what you were for another dry morning. 

A pause, then a breath. He sounded tired... and way too awake. "You're talking."

"You're hallucinating," was the masterful comeback that most certainly earned a chuckle from the prone Hero at your side. He was warm, not unlike how a freshly-baked loaf radiated heat into eager palms, and you were almost uncomfortable byhow comfortable he made you. No one needed to know just how many flips your soul did when Four was around, but you would. You would. 

It was with a swift cough that you decided not to care. 

"You should get up," you whispered, half as a feeble self-encouragement that would never work. "It's late."

It wasn't. It was actually dawn. You have no idea how either of you managed to sleep so long. 

Four's grunt was a cross between love and exasperation. He was silly like that. "Will you join me?"

That was the question, wasn't it? You closed your eyes and exhaled, ears twitching against the rising dip of the pillow that had kept you captive for... well, time had a funny way of passing, so you weren't going to dignify that with a proper response. "I don't know."

"We don't have to go anywhere," the hero soothed, softly patting your hip. Horrifyingly, it was working. "I'll even pull out my granddad's recipe book."

"I thought your granddad wasn't allowed in the kitchen," you joked with a chortle. This was nice; he was nice.

A soft snort was your answer, followed by the far-more explanatory: "If he didn't let that stop him, neither should we."

He had you there. Worse, you knew he had you there. You weren’t ignorant, but it was just… hard, when the sky’s color couldn’t be bothered to lift even a smidge from steely gray, and sunlight was a rare delicacy feasted upon by whatever insanity compelling Four to rise at the crack of dawn. 

“Link,” you murmured; softly, in a feeble attempt to conceal the fearful prickle in your throat as a whisper of voice broke through the quiet. You didn’t often call him by his name, because that would be unfair to the four hues resting beneath the steely blue-gray of his eyes. 

But, terrifyingly, beauty could never be without confession. 

Warm breath fanned against the ruffled edge of your shirt. “Hm?”

Breathe in, then out. What did secrets matter if they were worthy of being shared? “It’s so dark, Link.”

A contemplative pause told you that the violet part of him was hard at work. “We don’t need the light to live,” Four decided on, and you couldn’t help but nod. You believed him and you didn’t. You loved him and you always would. “It’s nice, not necessary.”

Funny, coming from the man credited with restoring Hyrule’s light, but you would take it. Four never made it hard to handle what he threw at you. 

“You’re sure?” You asked; staring at the ceiling, staring at what didn’t matter. Forgiveness came in the hiss of a fading ember, and understanding was never quite behind in your whirlwind of a life. 

“Not really,” he laughed, like it was funny. It was. You were cackling horrifically and uncontrollably. There was a pause, and a breath, and a slightly more serious answer: “No one is.”

Touche. 

“Yeah,” you mumbled. How was it that the ceiling was more welcoming than your own feelings? The peeling wallpaper more forthcoming than your thoughts? The blanket a truer hue than your shame would ever be. 

“But we can learn,” he continued, and, for the first time, you had the courage to meet muddy green-violet eyes and smile. 

Let it never be said that your boyfriend and unintentional roommate was a terrible cook, but even you were having doubts as you stared at the scalding bowl in his reddened hands. Was brown a good color? Was on-and-off chunk-age a good gauge of edibility? 

Four nodded as a suspicious burble burst in the center of the soup, a reddish-brown chunk of something expelling itself from the thick mahogany-hued depths. “It’s a family recipe,” he was happy to inform you, grinning in a way that made your heart hammer in your chest. “You’ll be up and running in minutes!”

True to Four’s word, the soup did get you up and running. 

To the bathroom. 

“I’m so sorry,” he kept apologizing, hands tangled in your hair to keep any wayward strands from falling victim to the tumultuous mess currently coating the inside of the bucket. Your knees still stung from how quickly you’d dropped to them, and a terrible cramping sensation seized every muscle in your abdomen. You retched. More soupy liquid filled the bucket. It was insanely normal and hilariously gross, but at least a gentle hand was patting your back and Four’s shame was satisfying palpable past the sour-sweet taste infecting your mouth. “If I had known—“

“You’re fine,” you managed to force out between coughs, glancing at him through the corner of your eyes. “I’m alive. Probably.”

“By the Three—“

Your stomach clenched again and, oh— you really didn’t want to think about why it was green, so it was with a reeling mind and empty belly that you rolled away to sit on your butt, eagerly accepting Four’s tentative offering of wadded paper to clean your face. “I’m not mad,” you said, mostly because the Hero of the Four Sword looked disturbingly like a kicked puppy and partly because all of your energy had been soundly ejected with the soup. “I’m not even disappointed.”

There was a guilty whine. “You should be.”

“I can’t,” Hylia, you couldn’t even look at him when the puppy dog eyes came out. You were weak like that. “You tried so hard. I’d be impressed if I could keep it down.”

The guilt on Four’s face intensified to maximum levels as he stood, snagged a cup from the cabinet, and filled it with some clean water from the nearby basin. “Here,” he murmured, offering you the cup with the utmost gentleness. You supposed it was partly because he didn’t want you to spill it and be forced to strip in addition to emptying your stomach. How kind. How chivalrous. “This should help.”

Your hum was grateful as you gulped down a sip, swishing it around your mouth for a few seconds before utilizing the remaining shreds of decorum to spit it into the bucket. The next sip was nothing short of heaven, as were the next few until you found your cup empty and stomach full. “Thanks,” you told him, voice slightly scratchy from overuse. “You’re the best.”

“I’d agree if I wasn’t the one who made you throw up in the first place,” ah, there was the chuckle you had missed so much. “…Better?”

Your lips curved into a smile, and it was with a soft laugh that you tugged Four into a tight hug. “Always.”

I don't even know what this is but I hope you all enjoyed 😭

Stay strong and drink water!!

[makingfanfictionstosleep]

presenting mr and mrs qin

smut || sylus x reader || alternate au || oneshot || inspired by mr. and mrs. smith || could be triggering for others so read at your own risk || not for kids — MDNI — minors dont interact || story masterlist : love and deepspace

The Perfect Lie

You sat across from Sylus in the overly soft chairs of the marriage counselor's office, the beige walls doing nothing to soothe the tension humming between you.

Dr. Laney Brooks, with her kind but probing eyes, clicked her pen. "So, Sylus, you mentioned a lack of... excitement in the relationship?"

Sylus merely arched a brow, his gaze, as ever, a fathomless pool that revealed nothing.

"Excitement, Doctor, is a subjective term. Our life together is... structured. Predictable. Like a well-oiled machine."

His voice was a low purr, a deceptive calm that always hid layers of intent. He then turned his head, his eyes meeting yours with a familiar, almost challenging glint. "Wouldn't you agree, sweetie?"

You adjusted the silk slip beneath your conservative skirt, the cool fabric a stark contrast to the simmering heat within you. You offered a polite, practiced smile.

"Structured indeed, Sylus. Some might even call it efficient." You avoided the word "dull," but it hung heavy in the air.

For five years, this had been your dance: a flawless performance of domesticity for the outside world, a quiet, almost sterile companionship behind closed doors.

You were the meticulous curator, he the charming CEO. Each believing the other was entirely unremarkable in their ordinary life.

Evenings often ended in hushed, polite arguments about the optimal temperature for your rare orchid collection – a collection Sylus had surprisingly taken an interest in, though you suspected it was less about the petals and more about the precision required.

You'd share a glass of expensive wine, discussing bland market trends or the optimal viewing angle for a documentary on ancient civilizations. The tension was always there, a low thrum beneath the surface, a constant, unspoken question of what if.

Overlapping Targets

The alarm blared in your private apartment, a shrill, unwelcome sound in the pre-dawn quiet. Not the tasteful, gentle chimes of your regular alarm, but the emergency one from your agency.

You were out of bed in a flash, pulling on your standard mission gear – sleek, dark, practical. Your mind, however, was already two steps ahead, piecing together the fragmented intel.

Target: Dimitri. High-value. Located in an abandoned warehouse district on the outskirts of N109 Zone. Standard procedure.

You moved like a shadow through the pre-dawn city, the hum of your personal stealth vehicle a familiar comfort.

The warehouse loomed, a hulking silhouette against the paling sky. You dismounted, your senses already extended, your Evol humming with anticipation. This was your element – the cold, calculated precision of a hunt. You breached the perimeter, ghosting through the shadows, a specter of efficiency.

You found Dimitri first: a trembling data broker, cornered amongst dusty crates.

As you moved in for the final strike, a sudden, blinding burst of Dark Matter exploded near the target, throwing them back. Your reflexes kicked in, you rolled clear, weapon poised, your jaw tightening. Someone else was here.

Your mission had been compromised.

Then you saw him.

A flash of a familiar dark coat. The glint of a custom-made weapon. The unmistakable aura of Dark Matter twisting in the air, rippling like oil slicks in the dim light.

Sylus.

Your breath hitched.

'No. Impossible,' you thought.

He was supposed to be at that boring corporate gala, charming investors with his usual blend of menace and charisma. Yet here he was, moving with the same deadly grace you only ever glimpsed in the dark, during your nightmares, or when he’d cornered you playfully in your shared living room.

He turned, alerted by something only his enhanced senses could detect.

His eyes, the color of crimson, widened fractionally as they met yours across the dusty, chaotic warehouse floor. The elegant, detached amusement he usually wore was replaced by a raw, predatory surprise.

"Well, well," he purred, his voice low, yet carrying perfectly across the distance, cutting through the silence of your shock. "If it isn't my dear, unassuming little kitten."

A slow, dangerous smile spread across his face, not the polite one from dinner, but the one that promised delightful chaos. "Playing dress-up tonight, are we?"

Rage, hot and sudden, flared through you, pushing aside the initial shock. Unassuming? Little kitten? After all this time, all the elaborate charades, the careful distance, the pretense of a normal, if boring, life?

"You bastard," you hissed, your voice laced with ice, your own Evol flaring, the world around you sharpening, every detail coming into crystal-clear focus. You were no 'little kitten'. You were a hunter. "You lied."

He chuckled, a dark, rich sound that echoed in the vast space. "Lied? My dear, I merely… omitted certain details. As did you, I presume?" He gestured with his weapon towards the terrified, sweating Dimitri. "It seems we're after the same prize."

The data broker, Dimitri, seeing two lethal figures distracted by their sudden marital dispute, seized the opportunity and bolted, disappearing into the maze of the warehouse.

Neither of you noticed.

The air crackled with a tension that had nothing to do with the mission and everything to do with the years of carefully constructed lies now shattering around you.

Every polite dinner, every shared laugh that was just a little too knowing, every accidental touch that lingered a fraction too long… it all replayed in your mind, painted now in the stark, brutal colors of betrayal.

"You're in my way," you snarled, ready to unleash the full force of your power.

His smile widened, sharp and thrilling. "Am I? Or are we simply… perfectly aligned?" He took a step towards you, a shadow stretching from his form, seeming to taste the air between you.

"After all, kitten, the game has just begun."

The Marriage Contract : Termination

The next day, your secure comms link, usually reserved for mission updates, chimed with an unexpected, ominous tone. Your handler's voice was grim. "Target Dimitri compromised. Operative overlap detected. Marriage contract terminated. Effective immediately."

Your heart hammered. You knew what that meant. Him. They knew.

A cold, analytical part of your mind tried to process it. An overlap like this was a massive security risk. Two top-tier operatives, married, unknowingly working for rival factions? They'd both be deemed liabilities.

The only clean solution was mutual elimination.

As if on cue, the front door chime echoed through your seemingly perfect, silent home.

Sylus.

You met him in the pristine entryway, the polite smile you usually wore feeling like a grotesque mask. His eyes, usually unreadable, held a dangerous spark you'd never seen directed at you personally.

"Sweetie," he began, his voice still a purr, but laced with something sharp, "it seems our respective... employers... have issued a rather unique directive."

He held up a data slate. The image on it was a classified profile. Yours. With a red "TERMINATE" stamp across it.

Your own data slate was already clutched in your hand, displaying his profile.

You didn't need to say a word. The air crackled with the sheer impossibility, the horrific absurdity of it all. The man you shared a bed with, the man whose morning coffee you brewed, the man you were supposed to kill. And he, you.

"So," you breathed, the tension so thick it was suffocating. "This is it, then."

His smile was a slow, deliberate unveiling of fangs.

"It appears so. A rather unconventional approach to marital counseling, wouldn't you agree?" He stepped closer, his presence a dark, overwhelming force. "Tell me, kitten. Were you truly ready to end it all tonight? To extinguish such... potential?"

The Domestic Battlefield

The ensuing fight was less about taking down a target and more about tearing into each other, a raw, brutal tango of long-suppressed frustrations and deadly skills. The polite veneer shattered completely.

This wasn't about a mission; it was about the years of lies, the cold distance, the simmering desire now exploding into violent passion.

A priceless vase exploded as his Dark Matter lashed out, throwing you against the wall.

You retaliated, your Evol letting you anticipate his next move, dodging his precise, dangerous counter and sending him crashing through your antique coffee table.

Splinters flew, but he barely flinched.

He recovered, a low chuckle rumbling in his chest as he pushed himself up from the splintered wood.

"Such a temper, kitten. I always suspected you held more... fire... than you let on."

He tossed a throwing knife, not to hit, but to pin your silk slip, which you’d discarded earlier, to the wall beside your head, a suggestive, possessive gesture.

You pulled the knife free, your eyes blazing.

"You have no idea," you growled, and a sudden, sharp clarity settled over you. You were tired of the games. You stalked towards him, every step deliberate.

He met you in the center of the living room, gripping your wrists, pulling you flush against his chest. His breath, warm against your ear, sent shivers down your spine.

"Feisty, aren't we? I always did admire a woman who knew how to push back."

"Get off me," you whispered, your voice trembling with a mix of fury and something dangerously close to desire.

Your hands were pressed against his chest, feeling the hard muscle beneath the fabric, the erratic thump of his heart, mirroring your own.

Your Evol hummed, struggling to control the chaos of your own emotions.

He leaned in closer, his lips brushing your ear.

"Or perhaps," he murmured, his voice a low rumble that vibrated through you, "you prefer to be… restrained?"

His gaze dropped to your mouth, lingering there, promising forbidden tastes. The air between you was thick, almost suffocating, with the weight of years of unspoken longing and dangerous secrets.

You kneed him, hard, not quite enough to injure, but enough to make him grunt and loosen his grip. You twisted free, creating distance, panting, your eyes locked on his.

He watched you, his smile a thin, cruel line, yet his eyes held a smoldering intensity that made your breath catch.

The fight continued, destroying more of the apartment.

Yet, as each blow landed, as each near-miss sent adrenaline surging, a strange understanding bloomed. You weren't trying to kill him. Not really. You were expressing years of pent-up desire, frustration, and a dangerous attraction.

And he, it seemed, was doing the same.

Finally, you both stood panting amongst the debris, exhausted but strangely exhilarated. Neither of you could deliver the killing blow.

"This is... unsustainable," you gasped, a wry laugh escaping your lips.

Sylus wiped a trickle of blood from his lip, his eyes alight with a feral triumph.

"Indeed. A clear stalemate." His gaze roamed over your disheveled form, a possessive warmth entering his eyes. "Tell me, darling, now that we've truly expressed ourselves... what comes next?"

You and Sylus stared at each other, breaths shallow and heavy.

In a heartbeat, not knowing who moved first, your mouths were on each other, frantic and hungry.

Sylus tore off your clothes from your body, the silk ripping under his powerful hands, while you pawed at his buttons – they flew everywhere, clattering against the shattered floor.

He pushed you on top of your dining table, the solid wood cold against your back, hands gripping your waist so tight you knew it would bruise.

You wrapped your legs at his hips, his hard length grinding against your core, a desperate friction while he latched on to your nipples after ripping off your bra, his mouth hot and possessive, while he tugged his pants and freed his large length.

You heard another rip – you knew it was your underwear – and not long after, Sylus entered you, hard and violently.

You bit his lip, not caring if it bled, your nails marred his skin, feeling his violent and powerful thrust, the dining table creaking ominously from his relentless movements.

He shifted, holding your leg on his shoulder, his thrusts deeper, pushing his hand on your lower abdomen and feeling his own length move under his palms.

He groaned, his brows furrowed in the intensity of your fucking.

You arched your back against the hard wood, his large hands on your waist keeping you steady, making you meet his every thrust.

You don't know how many times you came, but his movements became sloppy, his rhythm faster and erratic, a desperate scramble towards release.

Not long after, he came inside you, and you followed, milking him of every last drop. He collapsed on your chest, both of you breathing erratically, your guns and weapons laying on the ground along with your discarded and torn clothes.

Then he smirked at you and said, "Truce?"

You nodded, still panting heavily, and breathed, "Truce."

Unconventional Alliance

Your comms buzzed, both of them this time. The message was clear: because neither of you had eliminated the other, you were both now rogue, active threats. A joint directive had been issued: Terminate the Qins.

"Well," Sylus purred, glancing at his buzzing device, "it seems they're rather determined to see us... disposed of." He met your gaze, a hint of genuine amusement in his eyes. "I suppose this means our date night is officially cancelled." He then lowered his voice, the amusement fading to something colder, more calculating. "And that little informant, Dimitri? He was merely a lure. Designed to force our hand. A rather elegant, if brutal, method of employee restructuring."

"They set us up," you stated, your mind already processing escape routes and strategic points. The pressure was immense, but a strange calm settled over you. This was familiar territory. The only difference was, you weren't alone.

"Precisely," he said, stepping closer, his hand subtly brushing yours. "Which means we have two options: die separately, or live... together." His fingers laced with yours, a firm, undeniable grip. "I prefer the latter. It promises more... diversion."

You squeezed his hand. The idea of fighting with him, not against him, sent a thrill through you that dwarfed any fear. "Lead the way, CEO."

He grinned, a genuine, dangerous flash of teeth. "As you wish, darling."

The city became your battlefield. Every alley, every rooftop, every crowded street was a potential trap, or an opportunity. You worked with a chilling synchronicity, your Evols complementing each other perfectly. Your precise movements, anticipating threats, were met by his overwhelming force, bending shadows and energy to his will, a dark storm that engulfed enemies. You covered his flank, he cleared your path. A dance of death, perfectly choreographed after years of silent observation and simmering tension.

"You move well when you're not constrained by societal expectations," he murmured during a brief pause in a darkened alley, his voice a low rumble. He reached out, brushing a stray strand of hair from your face, his touch light, yet possessive.

"And you're surprisingly less annoying when you're not pretending to care about my orchids," you retorted, though your heart hammered against your ribs. The danger, the shared purpose, the sheer intimacy of fighting for survival side-by-side... it was intoxicating.

Renewed Vows

The final confrontation came at a massive, abandoned home decorating superstore – a sprawling labyrinth of rusted shelves, broken display furniture, and towering stacks of empty boxes.

Both of your former organizations had pooled their resources, sending wave after wave of elite operatives. This was the last stand.

"They're thorough," you noted, reloading your weapon, your breath coming in sharp gasps. Sweat slicked your skin, but your focus was absolute.

"Indeed," Sylus agreed, his voice calm, even as his Dark Matter coalesced into protective shields around you both, shifting to deflect incoming fire.

"But they lack... vision." He turned to you, his eyes locking onto yours, intense and unyielding. "Are you ready, kitten? To truly embrace the chaos?"

You met his gaze, a slow, dangerous smile spreading across your face. "Born ready, Sylus."

The store erupted in gunfire. You moved as one, a blur of motion and power.

You were the eyes, the precision, the quick, lethal strike amidst the aisles of shattered ceramics. He was the force, the overwhelming presence, bending shadows and energy to his will, a dark storm that engulfed enemies, tearing through drywall and display cases.

You covered his flank, he cleared your path. A dance of death, perfectly choreographed after years of silent observation and simmering tension.

Amidst the chaos, surrounded by the fallen, he grabbed your arm, spinning you to face him.

His eyes burned with an intensity that was raw, untamed. "You fascinate me," he breathed, his thumb tracing the line of your jaw, his grip on your arm firm, possessive. "All this time... you were exactly what I needed."

"And you," you whispered back, your fingers curling into his coat, pulling him closer, "were the dangerous secret I couldn't live without."

The sounds of distant gunfire echoed, but in that moment, nothing else mattered.

He leaned down, his lips brushing yours, the long-held sexual frustration finally exploding in a searing kiss that promised a future far more dangerous, and infinitely more exhilarating, than any you had ever imagined.

This was the real you.

This was the real him.

And the game, as he said, had only just begun.

The New Normal

Months later, you found yourselves back in Dr. Brook's office, the same overly soft chairs, the same beige walls. Only this time, the tension was different. It wasn't the stifling silence of a lie, but the crackling energy of a newly forged, dangerous truth.

"And how are things now?" Dr. Brooks asked, her pen poised.

Sylus interlaced his fingers with yours, his thumb idly stroking your skin.

A gesture he never would have dared before.

"Remarkably... stimulated," he purred, his eyes twinkling with a knowing glint only you could truly decipher. "We've discovered a great many shared interests."

You smiled, a genuine, untamed curve of your lips. "Yes," you agreed, squeezing his hand. "Turns out, an honest partnership can be incredibly... efficient."

The memory of last night's 'business trip' – a coordinated infiltration that ended in a shared, breathless escape across rooftops – made your blood sing.

The mundane arguments about orchids had been replaced by intense debates on optimal demolition charges or evasion techniques.

Life was no longer dull.

It was a constant dance on the edge of a blade, a thrilling, dangerous, and intensely satisfying bond. This marriage, forged in fire and betrayal, was finally, truly, alive.

[cameoamalthea]

Show Pin Lee as a Lawyer

I've seen some criticism of how Pin Lee is depicted in the show because she/they is not being portrayed as a badass lawyer like she/they is in the books. (she in books/they in show).

I do not understand this criticism, as there is nothing in the situation that can be addressed with lawyering or legal skills at this time.

What is Pin Lee supposed to do as a lawyer?

We know there is no faster-than-light communication. The only way to contact anyone is to send an emergency beacon through the wormhole, which will prompt the company to send a retrieval. There is no way to send mail or e-file anything.

There is a LOT Pin Lee can do once they're off the planet.

Identify and sue the third party, both PresAux and DeltFall have a LOT of claims (if they want to make extra money they could offer to represent DeltFall as well provided there are no concflcts or they waive any conflicts, I don't see any conflicts, depending how many parties were at DeltFall and what a Class is in this world, you might have grounds for a class action)

Sue the company for contributory negligence if it was their fault; it was so easy for a third party to sabotage the company's systems and data

Sue the company for hiding the third party's existence.

Potentially sue the company for failing to discover the alien remnant things since the company mapped this planet, and sold rights, and it's illegal to exploit Alien Remnants, so that should have been disclosed, or possibly the whole thing taken off the market for survey,s depending on if the whole planet is now quarantined/worthless.

Obtain legal ownership of Sec Unit

(Mensah said Murderbot would be free to do what it wants, the easiest way to do that would to legally buy it as opposed to stealing it, so does the rental contract allow them to buy their SecUnit? If not would the Company be willing to sell the SecUnit as part of a potential settlement with the Company for the above speculative claims.

Furthermore, since they have grounds to sue the Company, they can likely can get a court order to get all the data SecUnit has since they will need that for the lawsuits against third party and company (legal action to preserve records, so that it is not wiped).)

There is a lot Pin Lee can do once they can sue about it/send demand letters/notices, etc.

All of this is speculative based on a hypothetical legal system with hypothetical laws, theories, duties, and procedural avenues, which we know nothing about. I can't say what exact claims exist because we don't have enough information.

However, what we can assume is that taking any legal action is not something you can do currently while on a remote planet with no means of outside communication.

Lawyers are like Combat Units, hired guns, but a lawyers weapon is the pen, legal practice is writing. On a planet where you cannot contact anyone there is not legal recourse until you get back from that planet. (They can access any legal databases stored on the Company's satellites and begin drafting things - I guess, though I don't think that would be entertaining to watch - also they don't even know all the facts yet).

(( Disclaimer: This is not legal advice; I'm a lawyer, not your lawyer))

[hellishjoel]

seven days, six nights

5.6k / pairing: joel miller x f!reader

← masterlist

summary: You get jumped in the QZ after a deal gone south and hide yourself from Joel to keep him safe. After eventually finding you and learning the truth behind your injuries, he heals you and promises revenge. 

warnings/information: MA 18+ (minors DNI), post-outbreak Joel, living in the Boston QZ, somewhat established relationship, mentions of falling ill, mentions of hunger/starvation, mentions of weapons, mentions of sleeplessness, descriptions of a fight/brief assault, descriptions of bodily injury, talking about medical shit (and I ain't no doctor, I used google, don't sue me) thoughts and descriptions of murder (… isn’t he just so dreamy?), angst, light fluff at the end, half-ass edited (apologies in advance)

A/N: So happy to practice some post-outbreak writing! Enjoy this angsty one shot (inspired by this lovely ask!) that I fuckin loved writing. Dedicating this to @macfrog, as I pictured this entire plot with pixel Joel. 

“Joel, I’m so sorry, I lost you the battery-” “Someone stole it from you.” He corrects, shaking his head as a sinking feeling washes over you. Your eyelashes flutter as you feel a droplet of water land on your nose. You glance up at the sky, seeing the clear summer day has turned into dark clouds overhead threatening to flood the city in rain. Joel doesn’t look up, he stays watching you. You can’t seem to meet his eye contact. “But the battery-” “Don’t care about the battery right now, care about you.” 

Joel doesn’t know where you’ve been. You haven’t returned to his apartment in the QZ for days. He keeps track. Every time the sun rises and shines blistering beams of light into the quiet apartment until the moon replaces it and casts light silver streaks between the torn-up pieces of newspaper taped to the windows. Another day gone.

You had a routine. Make the smaller drops or pickups on your own, return to Joel, and report back to him with anything you think he might find useful or interesting. Five days ago, he sent you off to negotiate a truck battery with that West End District piece of shit, Robert. He shouldn’t have let you go alone. Fucking smugglers, you couldn’t trust any of them. Hell, Joel was even surprised you trusted him at first. He regretted not insisting on being by your side, even if it was just as your personal attack dog to keep Robert  on his toes. 

Despite Boston being one of the more “well-managed” QZs to still exist, the black market that emerged from it was just as strong. That’s where Joel came in. He figured if he could smuggle himself into one of the most protected quarantine zones in the country, he could smuggle just about anything else. 

Drugs, weapons, ammunition, illegally forged paperwork, counterfeit ration cards, you name it, and Joel could work it in or out of the city.  Joel’s reputation was usually enough to keep you both out of imminent danger as he became popular with not only the inhabitants of the QZ, but also with fellow smugglers. You all needed each other to stay alive, in one way or another. 

Don’t be mistaken; the Boston QZ wasn’t perfect. It went through its fair share of scares. Food sources dwindled occasionally, leaving people angry, starving, and rebellious. Fireflies were a constant nag on depleting military resources. The fighting never truly stopped. This partially made Joel’s life easier. When times got tough, people searched for Joel to procure particular goods to help keep them afloat or, more importantly, alive. 

That’s the problem Joel ran into after spending a night in FEDRA lock up. He was the one in need of supplies. 

Joel was sick. Not infected sick, not cordyceps sick, some kind of infection he got from poor sanitation in the lock-up that attacked its way through an open wound Joel had gotten. He didn’t know if it was from work duty or from the recent street attacks, hence his stay in the FEDRA lockup. No matter where he got it from, an infection in the bloodstream wasn’t easily curable. 

The doctors, what very few the QZ had, were scarcely treating the sick due to a lack of supplies. And Joel was only getting worse. 

He was fighting a high fever, his breathing was fucked, as was his heart rate. Only a few days into his symptoms, he was crashing. He was damn near on the devil’s doorstep. He wasn’t made for heaven’s gates. 

Joel didn’t have friends in the QZ, but there were certain high-powered people who needed items smuggled, too. And the guards paid him well to keep his mouth shut about what he saw going in and out of those gates after curfew. That’s why when one of his more popular clients heard Joel was an inch from  death, they sent you. 

You burst through his apartment, the door nearly flying off its hinges as you fled to his bedside. He pushed you away with what little strength he had at first, the infection was making him lose his damn mind. His skin was scarlet red, and he was clammy with sweat. He didn’t know you, you didn’t know him. But you weren’t going to let him die. 

“Joel, I’m here to help you, hold still.” 

Then you started your search, tearing Joel’s clothes off one by one until you found the sizeable cut on his upper bicep near his shoulder, a huge scrape from a metal blade that had gotten infected. The man had tons of scars, all in varying sizes, shapes, and places on his body. You didn’t know his past, but his body told his story. He was a fighter. 

Your fear was how far into sepsis Joel was. Any further or even just a few hours later, you might have witnessed his organs begin shutting down. 

Despite his hazy state, Joel was struck by your amount of supplies. You weren’t a Boston QZ doctor, he would remember a face like yours. It took a smuggler to know a smuggler, and you dealt in medical supplies. 

Joel passed out not long after you got there. You caught him up in the morning, you never left his side. You monitored him, kept checking his vitals, pumped him with water, shoved antibiotics down his throat, cleaned his wound before it could fester anymore, and tried to regulate his body temperature. This could have been a lot worse. It should have been a lot worse. 

This was your first time experiencing Joel Miller’s tenacious stubbornness. He wouldn’t fucking die, not last night, and not today. 

A few weeks later, with Joel improving, he picked up on you around town. The way you blended in with just about everyone else. Not much slipped past Joel these days with his eyes like that of an eagle. But you slipped right through his fingers, didn’t even know you existed,  despite running the same territory. 

That’s when he decided he wanted someone like you on his team. Not just for your medical skills, but the type of supplies you ran was in high demand. You never did tell him where you got it, or how it was funded, all he had to know was that you were in. And you have been in ever since. 

Joel introduced you to heavier smuggling, like weapons and bundles of cash. Even people for the right price. He taught you how to make fake documents of verification and how to forge other paperwork. This was a lot bigger compared to your clean syringes and medicine. 

You learned a lot from each other. You taught Joel patience, and to thank you for saving his life, he taught you how to orgasm in less than five minutes. 

The relationship you shared, if you could even call it that, wasn’t strictly a romantic one. Both of you were too guarded for something like that. But also, life was too short and unpredictable right now not to crave pleasure to erase the pain from the past. 

It was hard to admit, considering how independent you’ve grown since being accepted into the Boston QZ, but you were thinking about Joel in ways far beyond a slightly romantic relationship. He had protected you and cared for you in the Joel sort of way that’s hard to read but you know exists. 

Joel worked extra hours to hand you off extra ration cards, shaking his head and not looking at you when he said it was no big deal, just take’em. Or when he didn’t want you to stay in spare housing, he offered to let you live with him in his nicer, non-shared apartment. It was a small slice of heaven in this fucked up world. You liked him, hell, maybe it was more than like. 

That’s why when you got jumped by Robert’s guys on the way back to Joel’s with the truck battery, they damn near killed you. They left you passed out in the alley. Robbed you of your ration cards, stole back the battery, smashed your head so hard into the brick wall you had passed out. All you wanted to do when you came to was crawl to Joel. So you did. You were outside his door, beaten and bruised, about to knock. Then you just stood there and spiraled. 

You listened from the other side of Joel’s door to the floorboards creaking as he paced the old wooden beams. You were late and left him worried. He was waiting for you to come home. 

The thought made your stomach twist. You looked like shit. You knew what Joel was capable of. One look at your bruised and bloodied face would send him flying down the street with a rifle in his hands and a pistol shoved in the back of his jeans.  You couldn’t bear the thought of him getting hurt in a war with Robert. 

Joel was smart, a hell of a lot smarter than Robert, but their smuggling operations varied greatly. Robert was an arms dealer, with henchmen all around the QZ. Joel only worked with a handful of people, he kept his circle small. If Joel went after Robert, you were more likely to find him dead in the street than anything else. And you couldn’t do that to Joel, not after all he’s done for you. 

If Joel saw you hurt, he would kill Robert. He’d kill anyone that laid a finger on you. No one touches what’s Joel’s. Not merchandise, not weapons, not the pills he smuggles in and out of the QZ, and certainly not you. 

So you tiptoe back down the stairs and run to the spare housing blocks just before the curfew alarm sounds. What Joel doesn’t know won’t get him killed. 

---

Joel stands in line during the heat of summer, ration cards stuffed in his back pocket as he waits with others in the queue for a tray and some food. The dining hall was packed, and by the looks of other people’s trays, the food was low again. All he can think about is how he worked extra shifts all last week to get more ration cards for both of you. Without these cards, you were going hungry. You were supposed to be by his side, where were you? 

By day six, Joel was restless. He didn’t realize how accustomed he had grown to having you in bed beside him. All he could picture during his sleepless nights was his body spooned in behind yours, the heavy weight of his arm curled around your waist, being able to sense even the tiniest of movements. You’d push off his arm in the middle of the night, telling him that you just needed to use the bathroom or get some water. 

It wasn’t always like that, though. Sometimes, you have nightmares. Ones that left you shooting up straight in the middle of the night, gasping for breath, crawling backward in bed like something or someone was chasing you. Joel didn’t know everything about your past and vice versa, but he knew wherever you came from before Boston was a different form of hell. He would hold you in his arms, console you, wipe your hot tears, lay your head on the warmth of his chest, and tell you to level out your breathing by listening to the beat of his heart. He held you in his arms until you eventually fell back asleep. Most of the time, you’d wake up and wouldn’t remember a thing. 

What if nothing was wrong with you, and you just realized you didn’t want to be with someone as broken and battered as Joel? He didn’t make being in his company easy. He gave you a lot of shit, pushed you to the limits, told you on more than a handful of occasions he just wanted to be left alone. You’d ask about his daughter, the one he sparsely spoke about, and he’d bark at you until you regretted even thinking about her. He didn’t make things easy on you, but Joel did care about you. Even if he was shit at showing it. 

He pushed you away, maybe you took the hint and left him. 

On day seven, he started asking around about you, something he saved as a last resort. The less you two were seen together, the better. You had him worried sick, and he was damn near ready to raid Robert’s warehouse to see if he had taken you, made you his girl against your will.  

That was until he caught a glimpse of you going past the market. It didn’t take much, he recognized your figure and trailed you with his eyes.  You were walking towards spare housing, with a heavy backpack and a sweatshirt on. Your arms were wrapped securely around you, and your head was down. 

He navigated through the crowds, jaw tight, putting down heavy steps on the broken gravel road as he pushed people out of his way with a guided hand on their shoulder. He followed you out of the crowd and down the street lined with stone barricades and rubble from a recent building that was raided by patrol on the hunt for Fireflies. You turned sharply down an alleyway, and Joel followed you, needing to see if you were okay, looking for answers. 

As soon as Joel took the alley, he was attacked and harshly shoved backward, his shoulder blades smacking the red brick wall behind him. A small switchblade was then shoved against the protruding vein in his neck, heated puffs of breath leaving him. He initially panicked in the moment, his hand tightening around the wrist that held him there.

“Why the hell are you following me?” You bark at him, head still lowered. Joel’s eyes narrow at the sound of your voice. 

He speaks your name.

Your strength relaxes, and you lift your head up to see you had pinned Joel. Shit, you thought one of Robert’s men was following you from town. You let out an exhausted breath of relief. 

“You’re really holdin’ me up with the knife I gave you?” Joel asks. He smacks the back of your hand, reflexes making your fist open up and lose the grip on your switchblade. Joel snags it with his free hand and glares at you. He takes the opportunity to shove your forearm off his chest, the one that was pinning him against the wall, and sending you a few paces back from the force he exerts. He hesitates but folds the blade back into the handle, and offers it back to you.

You let out a sigh of relief to see that it was just Joel. But this was still a problem. 

You retrieve the switchblade you accidentally surrendered to him and stuff it into your sweatshirt pocket. You cross your arms and look away to the entrance of the alley. “What the hell are you doing following me, Joel?”

He lets out a scoff through his nose and shoots daggers out of his eyes that you won’t meet. “What the hell am I doin’? Where the hell have you been?” He tries not to bark so loud. You won’t stop staring at the entrance of the alley, and Joel’s not sure if you’re thinking about running or thinking about being ambushed. 

He grabs your arm and drags you further into the alley, sunset on the horizon. He brings you to the back of an old school that was ready to collapse. He pushes you back against the wall and stands close, too close. 

“Answer me, what the hell happened to you?” His voice shoots goosebumps across your skin, low and growling for answers. 

The grip he has on your arm tightens and washes a flood of heat over your injured arm. Your mouth hisses with hurt, trying to breathe through the pain. You shake him off of you and clutch your arm lightly. “‘M fine, Joel, I can manage.” 

You’re speaking with a break in your voice that Joel can’t quite place. The hood you’re wearing is working overtime to shield your face. 

He pauses before he slowly looks over you. “Why are you wearin’ a sweatshirt in the middle of summer?” 

The silence he’s met with only leaves him more curious. What are you hiding? He swiftly pushes the hood off your head before you can stop him, and he’s not prepared for what he sees. 

“Fuck,” he mutters, his large hands delicately coming up and caressing your cheeks.

You sigh and roll your eyes. The skin around your right eye is blueish-purple. You lightly twinged at the contact, no matter how delicate he was being. “It’s not as bad as it seems, it doesn’t hurt-”

“Like hell it doesn’t,” Joel mutters, lightly taking your chin between his thumb and index finger as he angles your face from left to right, allowing him to get a full look at the damage done to you. You glance down at his broken watch for comfort, the band fraying and the glass shattered, but he still wore it. 

You can’t exactly explain why your lower lip starts to wobble. It was so hard to stay away from Joel, to distance yourself, but it was all for keeping him safe. Your small fists lightly clutch the button-up shirt he’s wearing around his abdomen, finally feeling a slight sense of security. 

“Joel, I’m so sorry, I lost you the battery.”

“Someone stole it from you.” He corrects, shaking his head as a sinking feeling washes over you. Your eyelashes flutter as you feel a droplet of water land on your nose. You glance up at the sky, seeing the clear summer day has turned into dark clouds overhead threatening to flood the city in rain. Joel doesn’t look up, he stays watching you. 

You can’t seem to meet his eye contact. “But the battery-”

“Don’t care about the battery right now, care about you.” His thumb gently examines the cut on your lip. You curl it inwards to stray from his touch. “Robert do this to you? His guys?” Joel’s asking accusingly, and you know better than to lie to him. You swallow the growing lump in your throat and gently nod, blinking back tears. 

His face grows taut with anger, his brows furrowing and the creases in his forehead are set in stone. His jaw is clamped shut while he grits his teeth. Joel’s probably thinking of a million scenarios of how to put Robert down. Which way would last the longest, string out the torture, make him apologize to you, and beg for his life. Make him apologize to Joel for ever touching a hand on what was his. 

“Joel, you need to take a breath. Focus.” The last thing you wanted was for Joel to go on a rampage tonight in search of Robert. “I’m fine, this shit happens. We’ll get back on track and-”

“Can’t believe they let you live.” He murmurs, taking a look at the damage that he can visibly see before lightly sighing and releasing your face. You’re quick to pull the hood back up and cross your arms in front of you as some sort of shield. 

His eyes are sunken in, his chest is lightly heaving as he tries to sort through his muddled thoughts. The rain is starting to scatter more, hitting your muddy sneakers and Joel’s dark denim shirt. The setting sun meant curfew was just around the corner. 

“Come on. We’re goin’ home. Need to take a look at you in the light." You hesitate but his eyes are pleading for you to just let him take care of you.  So you let him. 

---

You travel up the same staircase you did just a week ago, limping and injured, broken and feeling guilty. Joel needed that battery for the truck. He was going to leave Boston and go to find his brother, Tommy. Neither of you had discussed if you would come with. For Joel, you think you might do just about anything for him if he asked. 

He stabs his key into the lock of his door. You hear a crying baby in a neighboring apartment, it was probably startled awake by the blaring of the curfew alarm. Lightning and thunder crack outside as Joel pushes open the door. You follow him inside and set down your backpack by the door like you usually do. Another strike of lightning makes his apartment flood itself with white-silver streaks of light, if only for a moment. Joel flips the lock back into place and hits the switch to the one overhead light in between the kitchen and the living room. You’re sweating up a storm in your sweatshirt. 

Though living in Boston’s QZ wasn’t great, you had to admit that not every quarantine zone had clean water and electricity. Joel had an old standing oscillating fan that was stationed at the foot of his bed during the summers since he ran so warm all the time. He said he traded about four or five meals worth of ration cards to get it, said that it was considered a steal. You shed the heavy material of your sweatshirt and sit tiredly down at the end of his bed, closing your eyes as the fan wicks away your sweat and cools your face. 

Living in spare housing the past week was hell. You barely slept. The homeless, sick, and injured all found their way to spare housing. You weren’t safe there. And you didn’t have any ration cards to your name. You had to trade one singular, perfectly clean syringe to afford four rolls of bread. It was all you could get at the time being. Everyone was fighting for work, knowing ration cards and food were low. Since you were still somewhat new to the QZ, you weren’t given privileges. You laid on a nasty, old cot for a week. Joel’s small apartment was heaven. The solitude was peaceful. 

Joel was standing at the sink, water running over a cloth as he stared down at the water circling the drain. He needed to take a breath, set his anger aside, and get you to talk. 

Joel wrings out the rag, loose droplets of water splattering in the sink before he sits down at his small wooden kitchen table. “C’mere.” He whispers, taking your attention away from the fan. You slowly stand up and make your way to the table under the central light in his living room, sighing softly as you slowly sink into the accompanying chair. Now in the light, he observes your injuries closer. 

Without your sweatshirt on, he can see bruises and scrapes along your arms, residual blood on your knuckles and under your nails. His little fighter. He notes that your tanktop is a bit shredded, and he fears the worst. 

You catch him staring and intervene. “Don’t worry. I didn’t let them get close enough to touch me like that.” You glance down at the sweaty tank top and lightly tug on the hole. “Just got this while I was running away, trying to hop a fence.” 

Joel frowns and slowly works his eyes over you. “‘S not like you to get caught. You’re pretty damn fast.”

You held down a bubble of laughter as your fingers played with the fraying material of your top. “Yeah, well, they already got one or two good hits on me, so I was a little hazy.” Your words don’t settle him. They infuriate him. 

He brings his attention to your face. Your eye must have been swollen at one point, but it wasn’t anymore. The puffiness had gone down, and the bruises were in their final stages of healing. You have another more prominent bruise on your cheekbone, black and blue, but it’s not broken. That’s good. The cut on your eyebrow and the matching one on your lip catches his attention. A man with a ring. 

“Red hair? Crooked nose, missing a front tooth?” 

You blink a few times rapidly, curious as to how the hell Joel knew the characteristics of one of your attackers. 

“How did you…” You start to say until your words trail off, shaking your head in confusion. 

Joel sneers lightly and brings the wet rag up to gently dab at the cut on your lip. “Not a lot of men are stupid enough to wear a ring that basically signs their name on whoever’s face they’re knocking in.” How he describes your fight makes you flinch and shift uncomfortably in your chair, evading his eye contact. “Sorry.” He mutters quietly. “His name is Chase, Jase, somethin’ stupid like that. One of Robert’s guys.” Joel’s words lightly flitter off as he shifts his attention to your lip once more. 

It was still swollen and angry. You probably tried to eat with it still agitated and delayed its healing. But you know this already. You ate because you didn’t have a choice. It was that, or starve. He hated knowing you were roaming the streets in a horrible hunger, especially when he had ration cards waiting for you at home. 

Your eyes twitch closed as Joel’s wet rag rinses the blood out of the cut on your lip, the old excess blood lightly trickling into your mouth. Your tastebuds catch the tang of metallic and salt. You did what you could with the medical supplies you had, but you didn’t want to waste on yourself what you could potentially sell. If you were avoiding Joel for a while, you needed to be able to make trades of your own. You did use some supplies to clean the cut on your head. You were lucky the wall you were thrown into didn’t leave you with a concussion. 

Joel is still wrestling with why the hell you didn’t come home, why he had to go out and find you. Why, why, why? Why did he let you go alone? Why did the deal go south? A terrible feeling soured his stomach.  Robert’s men were ruthless, they must have felt kind enough to let you live. Or it was a message to Joel from Robert. You’re next. 

Joel wasn’t scared of Robert, but for them to be scared of a young woman was a mystery for the masses. 

He tosses the rag down on the table and stands up. “I’ll fuckin’ kill ‘em.” He grunts up, his lips snarling and his nostrils flaring in heated fury. 

He storms to the kitchen and impatiently fills up a glass of water. Joel was fantasizing about plunging his thumbs into Robert’s eye sockets and squeezing until his head turned into mush. Or maybe Joel could take him to the Eastern district, throw him in the Massachusetts Bay, and hold him underwater, only bringing him up from the brink of drowning before pushing him down again. And again. And again. 

Your sweet voice breaks Joel’s murderous thoughts. “Joel, I owe you the battery, and I promise I’ll find another one. Just give me a little time and-”

Joel slams the glass of water on the counter, the clatter of it echoing around the room. “Don’t care about the damn battery!” His back is to you, broad and strong shoulders heaving lightly as his head hangs low. His hands are gripping the edge of the counter. “Thought they fuckin’ kidnapped you! Or worse!”

You shift uncomfortably in your chair, your lower lip wobbling once more as he slowly starts shaking his head. 

“I almost lost you, and it’s my fault.” 

Your eyes soften at his words. He’s felt this way before, and he’s been haunted by the mistake ever since. His daughter, you think. 

His low, southern drawl makes you focus on him once more. “Tell me why you hid. Why didn’t you come to me? We could have figured things out, for fuck’s sake!” He shouts as he turns to face you, his body falling back into the counter as he crosses his arms. 

Your chest swells with heavy emotion. You stand up so fast from your chair that its sent scraping backward. “I did come here! I did! I heard you inside and I..” you pause and shake your head, still finding your voice. 

“I was scared you’d be upset with me letting someone steal the battery, I was afraid you’d go after Robert and get yourself fucking-- killed, Joel! I don’t want you to die, okay? I need you!” 

“And I need you!” He shouts back, lips parted with heavy breaths, both of you trying to settle with the newly shared revelation. 

You both stare at each other from across the room, watching as Joel’s jaw slowly begins to click loose. He shoves himself up off the counter and closes the distance between you two. You hesitantly take a step back, and he pauses his footsteps. His eyes soften, and he looks as broken as you do. 

“Please,” he pleads, gently shaking his head. “Would never hurt you, baby.” He puts his hand out, a gesture of kindness and warmth that you’d missed all week, yet you still hesitate. You almost wait too long, he’s already reeling his hand back into his side. 

“Joel,” you whisper with soft relief. You eagerly take a few steps forward, ignoring his hand, and gently settle your head on his chest as you tightly squeeze your arms around his lower back. You close your eyes and melt into him, finding solace in Joel’s embrace. 

Joel’s arms stay hovering in the air for a moment, lips parted as he looks down at the top of your head. He shames himself for even hesitating. He puts one hand on the side of your head and holds you to his chest, while the other settles low on your back. He breaths peacefully for the first time in a week. 

You stay like that for who knows how long. He’s warm, and you feel protected. You sink into his arms, he takes on your weight. He walks you backward to the foot of his bed once more, letting you delicately fall back into the mattress. You watch with tired eyes as he unties the laces of your sneakers, one after the other. He shucks down your jeans, making you giggle. 

“Joel, you don’t wanna fuck me right now, I smell like spare housing.” 

The right side of his mouth twitches up as he shakes his head at you. “I know you do. ‘M takin’ you to shower.” 

You sit up on your elbows as you smile a bit bashfully at him. “Good. Because I’m too sore to fool around anyway.” You whisper with a teasing smile as you grab the bottom of your tank top, peeling it up and off of your sticky skin. Joel tries not to stare. You’re not sure if he’s clocking your naked figure or the bruising around your ribs and legs. 

You’d need some time to heal. Joel knows you do. While you shower, he makes you as big of a feast he can muster up with the canned goods he has in his cupboards. You try to eat the first real meal you’ve had in a week slowly, to savor the taste, but you end up shoveling your spoon into the bowl and scraping it clean.  

Joel’s eyes are on you the whole time, watching you, observing you. He won’t let you out of his sight for a while, but maybe that’s what’s good for you. You meet his gaze and he speaks a silent vow. We’ll find Robert, steal the battery back, then kill him and anyone else who laid a finger on you. He nods. You nod too. 

Joel’s not sure how late it is by the time you two fall into bed together. He doesn’t know how to tell you how much you mean to him, but he says it in the way he holds you. Back in his arms, he’s more alert of how sore you are from your fight. He gently cups your face, watching your eyes slowly flutter closed with long blinks. You must be so tired. And he doesn’t want to keep you awake. He’s afraid to look away, like if he lets you out of his sight, you’ll disappear again. 

He speaks your name and gently stirs you awake. “Hm?” You softly murmur, bringing your hand up and gently feeling over the planes of Joel’s chest, fingers lightly grazing his chest hair. 

He looks down at you for a moment, choosing his next words carefully. “Don’t run away like that again.” His words are stern before he pauses again,  lightly pushing some hair behind your ear and touching you like a delicate flower. You watch him attentively. He cups your jawline and angles you to look up at him.  “We’re takin’ that battery back, and we’re gettin’ the hell out of here. You hear me?” 

Your heart swells at his words. We. You slowly nod in agreement. You feel Joel’s gentle kisses on your forehead and the tip of your nose. You lean up to capture his lips, but he falters by an inch. A confused expression crosses your face. 

“You’re hurt.” He mutters, referring to the cut on your lip. Don’t wanna hurt ya, sweet girl.

You roll your eyes and take his face in your small hands. “Don’t care.” You whisper before you pull him in, and the two of you share a featherlight kiss. You let it last, both of you soaking it in after a week apart. A week too long. 

Joel’s the first to pull away, giving you a playful little glare. The bruising on your face reminds him of the boxing movies he grew up watching. “Easy, Rocky.” 

You look at him confused and cock your head. “Who?”

He rolls his eyes at you and sighs, gently running his hand down your side. “Go to sleep. I’ll teach you about Rocky one through five tomorrow. D’you at least get a few good hits on Robert or his guys?”

You hum quietly and let your eyes dip closed. “Mhm.”

“Like I taught ya?”

“Just like you taught me. Gave ‘em the ole left, right, goodnight." You bring up your fists to demonstrate. "Made Robert’s nose bleed, think I broke it.”  

Your head falls into Joel’s chest, feeling it rumble with laughter and a sense of pride. “That’s my girl.”

His body shields you from the outside world. You sleep like a rock for the rest of the night. You live another day, and so does Joel. But with Joel’s promise, you know Robert’s days are numbered. You’ll be sure of it. 

---

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“Apprentice of None”

Chapter One: Faith, Fire, and Frag Grenades

You were ten years old when you tried to kill Count Dooku. He laughed, called you talented, and took you in. Now you're thirteen, sarcastic, Force-sensitive, and catastrophically under-supervised-more of a chaos grenade than an apprentice.

Trained in the ways of the dark side but lacking discipline, you're sent into the heart of the Clone Wars to prove your worth: spy, sabotage, manipulate. Your newest assignment? Infiltrate the Republic, starting with a clone sergeant named Slick. But what begins as a mission turns complicated when you meet the soldiers bred to be obedient-and discover they're far more human than anyone ever told you.

The clones are supposed to be your enemies. Targets. Tools.

But they start asking questions. They hesitate to hurt you. And some of them-especially the ones named Rex and Cody-begin treating you like you're not a weapon... but a kid. A reckless, dangerous, way-too-smart-for-your-own-good kid who maybe just needs a second chance.

You weren't built for family. You were raised for war.

But war does strange things.

And somewhere between saber fights and sabotage, you might just accidentally get adopted.

⸻

The first time you killed someone, you weren't trying to.

He'd cornered you near a pile of burning durasteel, his blaster drawn and a smile that made your skin crawl. You were ten, barefoot, bloody, and starving. You'd already thrown a brick at his head and spat in his face. But he was bigger, and faster, and he wasn't alone.

You screamed.

And the building behind him collapsed.

It wasn't the fire. It wasn't an explosion. It was you. Something inside you split wide open and poured out like lightning without light, just heat and hate and a sound like the galaxy ripping apart.

The men didn't scream.

They just... stopped moving.

When the dust settled, you stood alone. Wide-eyed. Covered in someone else's blood. Still breathing.

"Okay," you muttered to yourself, shoulders heaving. "Not gonna lie—that was kind of awesome."

You didn't understand what happened. Not exactly. You'd felt it before—in flashes, in flares. When people pushed too hard, when fear caught you by the throat. Sometimes the Force cracked glass around you. Sometimes it shattered people.

Whatever it was, it listened to you.

And you liked that.

⸻

The city was rubble. You wandered through it like a ghost, stealing food from corpses and setting traps for other kids before they could set them for you. Everyone was desperate. You were just better at it.

Then he showed up.

You saw the ship first—sleek and silver, nothing like the Republic gunships or Separatist haulers. It landed in the middle of a crater where a market used to be. Clean, polished. Wrong.

You crouched behind the jagged remains of a broken wall, hair matted and eyes sharp.

A single figure emerged.

Tall. Pale. Robed. Not armored. He walked like he owned the planet. Like the fire and screams didn't touch him. He kept his hands behind his back, calm as stone.

You narrowed your eyes.

"Great," you muttered. "Another creep in space pajamas."

He stopped just meters away, gaze sweeping the wreckage. Then, he looked right at you.

"Come out, child," he said.

His voice was smooth. Rich. It crawled under your skin like silk laced with razors.

You stepped out slowly, hands behind your back, hiding the vibroblade you'd picked off a dead merc. Your feet were black with soot, your clothes barely intact.

"You look lost," he said.

You smiled like a wolf.

"You look like a haunted lamp," you replied.

His brow twitched, just slightly.

You lunged.

The blade flashed toward his throat—and froze mid-air. You strained, snarling, trying to push it forward with everything you had. It didn't move.

Your arm jerked back and snapped sideways, and the knife flew from your hand, clattering to the ground.

You stared at it. Then up at him.

"Oh," you said. "You're one of those floaty freaks."

He chuckled.

You hated him instantly.

"You've killed before," he said. Not a question.

"Yeah," you shot back. "People tend to die when I yell at them. It's a gift."

He studied you. Not kindly, not cruelly—like a scholar examining a weapon still cooling from the forge.

"You're wild," he said. "Untrained. Dangerous."

"Thanks. You should see me when I haven't eaten in three days."

His gaze sharpened. "How long have you been alone?"

You shrugged. "Since forever. Or Tuesday. Who's counting?"

"I see."

"No, you don't." You took a step back. "You see something you want. Don't pretend you're here to help."

There was a pause.

Then he smiled—slow, humorless, chilling.

"Very well," he said. "No pretense, then."

He stepped forward. You didn't back away, even though your knees wanted to. His presence was heavy, like the air bent around it. He stopped just in front of you and knelt, bringing his lined face level with yours.

"You are strong in the Force," he said. "Raw, yes. Undisciplined. But more powerful than any child I have ever seen."

You rolled your eyes.

"Do you say that to all the feral orphans, or just the ones who try to stab you?"

That earned a quiet chuckle.

"I offer you a choice," he said. "Come with me, and I will train you. I will give you tools to shape the chaos in your blood. Or stay here. Starve. Be hunted. Waste your strength on scraps."

You stared at him, defiant.

"What's the catch?"

"Loyalty," he said simply. "Obedience. You will serve a greater cause. You will become the storm."

You snorted. "I'm already the storm."

He stood.

"I am Count Dooku," he said. "And if you live through my training... the galaxy will tremble at your feet."

You crossed your arms.

"Alright, Count Dorku. You had me at 'tremble.' But fair warning—I'm not good at following rules. Or orders. Or directions. I once stabbed a guy just for telling me to calm down."

"Excellent," he said, turning toward the ship. "Then we begin immediately."

"...Wait, really? You're just gonna let me in?"

He glanced over his shoulder.

"I do not take apprentices," he said. "I forge them."

⸻

The inside of the ship was cold. Clean. You hated it.

He gave you food, and you pretended not to inhale it like an animal.

He told you the Jedi were liars, that the Republic was built on chains. You told him you didn't care. As long as you got a lightsaber and could keep breaking things, you were in.

He watched you spar against droids and refuse to follow drills. He watched you throw tantrums so powerful the floor cracked. He punished you without anger. Corrected you without mercy.

You made jokes during every lesson. Dooku ignored most of them.

"Emotion is a tool," he said once. "Control it, or it will control you."

You kicked over a chair and screamed, "I AM CONTROLLING IT!"

He didn't even blink.

⸻

The third time you disarmed a training bot mid-spin and cut its head off with a practice saber, he didn't speak for a long time.

When he finally did, he said:

"You have no discipline."

"I have style."

"You have rage."

"Like it's a bad thing."

"You will never be a Sith," he said, turning away.

Your mouth opened. The retort was hot on your tongue.

But then he looked back, his eyes sharper than any blade.

"Not until you learn how to bend, before you break."

⸻

That night, you sat in your room and stared at your hands.

The power in them.

The hunger behind it.

You didn't know if you could bend.

But you sure as hell didn't want to break.

Not yet.

Not before they learned your name.

⸻

Next Chapter

Read on Wattpad

[aftmostreaper]

Underground doctors

"Ugh, I hate visiting underground doctors"

////i might give this a shot///

In the shadows of a fractured world, a lone agent bleeds through the ruins of a failed mission. Hunted, injured, and out of contact, Cypher must navigate the decaying streets of a radianite-ravaged town where reality itself teeters on the edge. When escape leads him to the last place he ever wanted to return, a black market clinic run by someone from his past.

Brimstone’s gruff voice echoed through the earpiece, distorted by static. The line cut out just as ragged breaths broke through, his lungs straining to catch up to his pounding heart. Each step sent a jolt of pain up his leg, heavy boots slamming into the wet, uneven soil as he ran. Rain from earlier had turned the ground to sludge, clinging to his coat and splashing against the blood-soaked hands that tightly clutched his bleeding thigh.

Behind him, faint footsteps echoed. another set. Fast. Close. But unaware. He could hear the rhythm of their chase, a hunter following noise, not sight, He knows the owl could see well into the night, but the light pitter patter of rain and time was not on his side, they would need to leave soon. A pattern all too familiar to him. The night worked in his favor, wrapping the landscape in darkness thick enough to hide his presence.

He darted into a crumbling, abandoned house, nearly stumbling as he forced the door shut behind him. He pressed his back against it, frozen, breath held tight in his chest. Time stretched as the footsteps neared, then passed, fading down the deserted street. He waited, straining to hear, only releasing his breath when silence returned, punctuated only by the faint chirping of crickets in the shadows.

Wasting no time, he dropped to the floor with a grunt, tore his sleeve off at the seam, and wrapped it tightly around the gash in his leg. The fabric darkened quickly, but the pressure would buy him time. With a pained wince, he reached into his coat and retrieved his communicator. The screen was fractured, blackened in places, the device short-circuited from damage sustained during the chase. He tried to power it on. nothing. Just a flicker, then silence. With a quiet curse under his breath, he tucked it back into his coat and stood.

Each step sent pain shooting up his side as he limped out into the forgotten streets. His eyes scanned the fractured remnants of the town, buildings torn open like old wounds, rusted steel bent inward, street signs mangled beyond recognition. Stray pulses of unstable radianite snaked through cracks in the pavement, casting faint glows and humming lowly, warping the very texture of the air around them. Time felt off here, but it was nothing new to him. He had already seen worse from other sites.

He thought back to the mission briefing: a solo recon assignment. Survey the area, build a preliminary defense map, then report back. Routine. He had history with this place, a mission long before the Protocol brought him in. They figured he'd be quick. Precise. In and out.

Then the omega earth agents showed up unannounced, unscanned, and armed. Like shadows bleeding into his world, they emerged with the same target and a much larger team. He was lucky to escape with his life. The simplicity of the mission had become a trap.

Navigating the maze of shattered alleyways, he kept to the edges, where shadows clung tight to buildings and twisted fences. Trash littered the ground, rusted tools, busted screens, skeletal remnants of drones. At last, the alleys opened to a long, downward slope leading into the underground market.

He kept his head low as he entered, hat pulled over his mask coat drawn tight. The market buzzed with life even in this forsaken place, traders hawking black-market tech, scavengers bartering weapon parts, mercs smoking in shadowed corners. Neon signs flickered above cracked stalls, bathing everything in sickly color. No one asked questions here, and that was why he came. it was familiar, it was... in a way... the closest thing he had to home, somewhere he could go back to when this protocol went belly up.

He moved through the crowd unnoticed, past the familiar smell of oil, metal, and cheap liquor. He passed old contacts he didn’t want to acknowledge, faces that once knew him, now pretending they didn’t. He ignored their sidelong glances and pressed on, heading toward a narrow hallway tucked behind a weapons vendor.

At the end stood a heavy, rusted door. The chipped paint and scorch marks hadn’t changed. He hated this place, hated the people who ran it even more, well, except for one. But survival didn't allow for pride.

He pushed it open slowly. A harsh white light poured out, burning his eyes after the dark. He blinked against it, trying to adjust, until the silhouette of a woman behind a table came into view. Her expression was unreadable, her hands calmly sorting vials and bandages.

“He’s just finishing up with another patient,” she said, her voice flat, practiced. “The doctor will be right with you. Please, take a seat.”

He nodded without speaking, dragging himself toward a creaky metal bench in the corner. It groaned under his weight as he sat. The pain in his leg pulsed now. hot and insistent. He leaned forward, forearms on knees, fiddling with the torn seams of his gloves to distract from the sting of every movement. He didn't like being still for long. Too many memories came crawling in when he stopped moving.

Time passed, uncertain. Then the creak of a door echoed from the back of the room, followed by voices.

“Thanks, doc,” someone said with a relieved sigh.

“Just remember to clean the wound and change the bandages regularly,” came the reply. calm, composed, with a voice that stirred something old in his memory.

The footsteps approached the lobby.

“Next?”

Cypher slowly stood, steadying himself on the armrest before limping toward the open door. Pain lanced through his leg, and he clenched his jaw, refusing to let it show. Before he could reach the threshold, a pair of arms caught him. firm, but careful, and helped guide him inside.

The doctor. Familiar hands. Familiar voice. It's been years but it feels just as he remembers them.

Cypher’s gaze met his briefly just for a moment. Recognition sparked, unspoken, in both their eyes before Cypher looked away, allowing himself to be lowered gently into the hospital chair.

“Mask on or off?” the doctor asked, his voice gentle yet edged with the stern professionalism of someone who had seen too much.

Cypher let out a breath of dry laughter. “I’m sure you already know what I look like, M/N.”

The air tensed—heavy, like a wound reopening. Then suddenly, wordlessly, he was pulled into a crushing embrace.

“Am—” M/N began, the name on his lips, then stopped himself short.

=-----------------------------------------------------------------------=

then they fu- anyways its summer and i am hazy from valo gaming

[rossfr00]

Title: Of Fire and Gold

Pairing: Prince Nuada x Female Reade (Eve)

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: Angst, Violence, Canon-Divergence, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Magic, Heavy Emotional Themes

Tags:

Slow Burn Forbidden Love Enemies to Lovers Angst with a Happy Ending Protective Nuada Witch!OC Secret Meetings Canon-Divergent Ending. Emotional Intimacy Magical Bond Sacrifice Found Family Royal Politics Hurt/Comfort Slight Jealousy Fem!Protagonist Smut

■•■•■•■•■•■•■•■•■•■•■•■•■•■•■•■•■•■•■•■•■

Chapter 6 The Forest Cries

The alley behind the Troll Market opened into an industrial lot—concrete, rust, and forgotten things. The team emerged into the stale twilight, wary.

Hellboy scanned the perimeter, the Samaritan in hand. “Everyone feel that?”

Abe nodded. “Something... ancient.”

Eve turned slowly, eyes narrowed. She felt it too—like a heartbeat in the ground.

Then he appeared.

From the shadows, Nuada emerged, blade at his side, robes brushing against wet concrete. His eyes landed on Nuala—then slid to Eve, lingering.

No one moved.

“I came for my sister,” Nuada said.

Hellboy stepped forward. “You're not taking anyone.”

Nuada turns slowly, unsurprised "So many of you... and yet none truly see."

His gaze sweeps over the group slowly. Abe, alert. Liz, with fire dancing in her palms. And then her gaze bores into Eve. Too direct. Too long.

"You shouldn't be standing among them." He said.

Eve tenses. The tone of her voice is not threatening... but neither is it neutral. She grips the hilt of her dagger. Liz notices. Hellboy takes a step closer

"Last warning, man-bun. You make a move and I'll.. " said hellboy

Nuada without taking her eyes off Eve

"A child of the earth pretending to belong in a cage of fire and steel... What a waste."

"You don't know me." Eve answer coldly

Nuada softer, as if only the two of them were talking "Not yet. But I can feel what you are. And you know it too."

Abe steps forward. Liz does, too. The atmosphere charges. Nuada ignores them, raises the seed high.

"You're human, that's disgusting.... But you are a witch, a unique one, I can feel and see that you feel the same way I do about your race, come with me, make the change I feel you want to make". He said staring her so deep as if he could read her soul.

Eve just stared at him with a frown, searching for the words to speak.

Nuada smile and say "Let the forest make you remember."

And throws it against the ground. The tremor that follows rips a roar from the bowels of the earth.

Eve’s heart stopped.

“No—”

He dropped it into the nearby storm drain.

The world trembled.

Roots erupted from the earth. Stone cracked. Something massive clawed its way up—a Forest God, born from grief and wild memory. Moss, antlers, light. It cried—not in rage, but sorrow.

Eve ran.

She sprinted across debris, scaling a rusted scaffold and broken fire escape, reaching a high ledge that overlooked the square. She raised her arms, magic sparking at her fingertips, lips already moving with the rhythm of an old invocation.

Below, Liz shouted, “Eve! Do something!”

And then—Nuada was there.

He moved with impossible speed, stepping beside her on the narrow platform. Silent. Watchful.

“You know what that creature is,” he said.

“Yes,” Eve hissed, not taking her eyes off the Forest God. “ You twisted it into a weapon.”

“I didn’t twist it,” Nuada said calmly. “I awakened it. Gave it a purpose.”

Her head snapped toward him. “You used its grief.”

He studied her, unfazed. “You were at the auction. You didn’t stop me.”

Eve's hands pulsed with power. “Because I didn’t care if those people died.”

Nuada's gaze sharpened. “Then you understand. We’re not so different.”

She stepped away from him slightly, struggling to stay grounded. “You murder. I protect. That’s the difference.”

“ so human...” he said, stepping closer again. “But something in you... calls to me. Your magic. Your blood. It knows mine.”

She turned sharply. “Don’t.”

He touched her jaw, gently tilting her face toward him. Her hands shook—not from fear, but from the pull. The closeness.

“You feel it too,” he murmured. “This force between us. You know it.”

Eve’s voice was raw. “I won’t be manipulated by you.”

Still looking into her eyes, he said, “Then why do you hesitate?”

“I don’t,” she growled—and turned away from him fully, raising her arms to the Forest God.

The creature writhed, crying, lost. And she felt it all. Its fear, its loneliness. Tears spilled down her cheeks.

She whispered to it, casting golden strands of magic like threads of comfort, not to bind—but to guide. A containment ritual. A homeward path. But it demanded a price.

Blood. Will. Surrender.

She drew a blade from her belt and slashed her palm, offering her power freely, her voice rising into the air.

Nuada watched her, mesmerized.

The Forest God stilled. The roots retracted. The creature crumbled back into seed-form, glowing gently at her feet.

Eve dropped to her knees, exhausted, blood dripping from her hand.

Hellboy ran to her, gun raised. “Eve, you okay?”

She nodded, eyes still on the seed trying to go towards it..

From behind them, Nuala whispered, “Nuada…”

And Hellboy stiffened. “Wait… Prince Nuada?”

His name resounded in Eve’s head, Nuada..

At the same moment, Liz said, “Red, he’s getting away!”

Nuada was already retreating into the shadows. But just before disappearing, he turned. His gaze met Eve’s.

“…Eve,” he said softly, her name like a vow.

And then he was gone.

•♡•♡•♡•♡•♡•♡•♡•♡•♡•♡•♡•♡•♡•♡•♡•♡•♡•♡•♡•♡•♡•

[nyxelestia]

Kinktober, Angstober, Flufftober, Whumptober, and Inktober 2024

Collecting the five biggest promptober events' prompts in one list for people who like to mix and match between challenges.

Kinktober: This year, there is no official kinktober prompt list, but multiple lists for various fandoms and individual blogs. For this post, I am using this list from Reddit, put together by u/Random_Stuff10 using past kink lists and kink generators.

Angstober: 2024 Prompt List Tumblr Post @angstober

Flufftober: 2024 Prompt List Tumblr Post @flufftober (warning: no custom theme, so you must be logged in to Tumblr to view)

Whumptober: 2024 Prompt List Tumblr Post @whumptober

Inktober: Rules and Prompt Page

Inktober not included as it is trademarked.

Prompts Organized By Day

Day 01

Kinktober 1. Edging | Harness | Oviposition Angstober 1. Again Flufftober 1. Lost Pet Meet Cute Whumptober 1. RACE AGAINST THE CLOCK | Search Party | Panic Attack | "If only we could hold on.” (Icysami x Renegaderr, Strangers.) Inktober 1. Backpack

Day 02

Kinktober 2. Threesome | Dehumanization | Watersports Angstober 2. Countdown Flufftober 2. “Left. Other left!” Whumptober 2. TRUST ISSUES | Amusement Park | Role Reversal | “You got away with the crime while the knife's in my back.” (Charlotte Sands, Rollercoaster) Inktober 2. Discover

Day 03

Kinktober 3. Vibrator | Crossdressing | Breeding Angstober 3. Self-Destruction Flufftober 3. Favorite Scent Whumptober 3. SET UP FOR FAILURE | Fingerprints | Wrongfully Arrested | "I warned you." Inktober 3. Boots

Day 04

Kinktober 4. Knotting | Impact | Virginity Angstober 4. Blood Flufftober 4. Market Day Whumptober 4. HALLUCINATIONS | Hypnosis | Sensory Deprivation | “You're still alive in my head.” (Billy Lockett, More) Inktober 4. Exotic

Day 05

Kinktober 5. Non-con | Fisting | Masturbation Angstober 5. Do Better Flufftober 5. Acorn, Chestnut, Pine Cone Whumptober 5. SUNBURN | Healing Salve | Heatstroke | "If my pain will stretch that far." (Lottery Winners, Burning House) Inktober 5. Binoculars

Day 06

Kinktober 6. Suspension Play | Kidnapping | S&M Angstober 6. Medication Flufftober 6. Mistaken Identity Whumptober 6. NOT REALISING THEY'RE INJURED | Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms | Healed Wrong | "It's not my blood." Inktober 6. Trek

Day 07

Kinktober 7. A/B/O | Daddy Kink | Mind control Angstober 7. “You Still Don’t Get It.” Flufftober 7. Hoodie Weather Whumptober 7. ONLY FOR EMERGENCIES | Unconventional Weapon | Magic with a Cost | "It's us or them." Inktober 7. Passport

Day 08

Kinktober 8. Slave Training | Orgy | Belly Bulge Angstober 8. Growing Pains Flufftober 8. Chopping and Piling Wood Whumptober 8. SLEEP DEPRIVATION | Isolation Chamber | Forced to Stay Awake | "Leave the lights on." (Coldplay, Midnight) Inktober 8. Hike

Day 09

Kinktober 9. Praise Kink | Sharing | Stuck In a Wall Angstober 9. Promise Flufftober 9. “Don’t do that!” — “But…” Whumptober 9. OBSESSION | Broken Window | Bruises | “Frame me up on the wall, just to keep me out of trouble.” (Fall Out Boy, Irresistible) Inktober 9. Sun

Day 10

Kinktober 10. Aphrodisiacs | 69 | Tentacles Angstober 10. Humiliation Flufftober 10. Bet, Game, Contest Whumptober 10. BLOW TO THE HEAD | Slurred Words | Passing Out from Pain | "I can't think straight." Inktober 10. Nomadic

Day 11

Kinktober 11. Dirty Talk | Blow Jobs | Uniform Angstober 11. Wake Up Flufftober 11. Ingredients & Spells Whumptober 11. SEEING DOUBLE | Convenience Store | Loneliness | “Leave no trace behind, like you don't even exist.” (Taylor Swift, Illicit Affairs) Inktober 11. Snacks

Day 12

Kinktober 12. Overstimulation | Anal Sex | Temperature Play Angstober 12. Rotten Touch Flufftober 12. “This is spooky.” — “Really?” Whumptober 12. STARVATION | Underground Caverns | Cannibalism | "Just a little more." Inktober 12. Remote

Day 13

Kinktober 13. Dom/Sub | Branding | Body Modification Angstober 13. Shaking Flufftober 13. Attic, Cellar, Hidden Room Whumptober 13. TEAM AS A FAMILY | Familial Curse | Multiple Whumpees | "Death will do us part." (Set It Off, Partner's In Crime) Inktober 13. Horizon

Day 14

Kinktober 14. Breath Play | Evil Twin | Double penetration in one hole Angstober 14. Only Around You Flufftober 14. Fantasy AU / Mundane AU Whumptober 14. LEFT FOR DEAD | Hunting Gear | Blackmail | “Because I want you to know what it feels like to be haunted” (tiLLie, kooL aiD mAn) Inktober 14. Roam

Day 15

Kinktober 15. Double Penetration | Orgasm Denial | urethra penetration Angstober 15. False Hope Flufftober 15. “What are you wearing?” — “It’s laundry day!” Whumptober 15. CHILDHOOD TRAUMA | Painful Hug | Moment of Clarity | "I did good, right?" Inktober 15. Guidebook

Day 16

Kinktober 16. Glory Hole | Captivity | Object insertion Angstober 16. No One Else To Turn To Flufftober 16. Yes, No, Maybe Whumptober 16. NECROSIS | Swamp | Wound Cleaning | "No, I can't feel anything." Inktober 16. Grungy

Day 17

Kinktober 17. Spanking | Fucking Machine | Gags Angstober 17. “Shhh…” Flufftober 17. Only One Bed Whumptober 17. NOWHERE ELSE TO GO | Ruined Map | Shipwrecked | "We had a good run." Inktober 17. Journal

Day 18

Kinktober 18. Dub-Con | Pregnancy | Cock Warming Angstober 18. Falling Stars Flufftober 18. Bewitched Whumptober 18. REVENGE | Unreliable Narrator | Loss of Identity | “I see what's mine and take it.” (Panic! at the Disco, Emperor's New Clothes) Inktober 18. Drive

Day 19

Kinktober 19. Degradation | Knife Play | Anonymous Sex Angstober 19. Tear-Stained Cheek Flufftober 19. Yarn Whumptober 19. BLOOD TRAIL | Abandoned Cabin | One Way Out | "Is there anybody alive out there?" (Bruce Springsteen, Radio Nowhere) Inktober 19. Ridge

Day 20

Kinktober 20. Oral Fixation | Honeymoon | Shower Sex Angstober 20. Spare Me Flufftober 20. Paw Whumptober 20. EMOTIONAL ANGST | Shoulder to Cry On | Giving Permission to Die | "It's not your fault." Inktober 20. Uncharted

Day 21

Kinktober 21. Triple Penetration | Exposed | Hate sex Angstober 21. Abandoned Flufftober 21. Bonfire Whumptober 21. BODY HORROR | Body Horror | Tattoo Gun | Spirit Possession | “Let the bedsheet soak up the tears.” (Apparat feat. Soap & Skin, Goodbye) Inktober 21. Rhinoceros

Day 22

Kinktober 22. Somnophilia | Humiliation | Size Difference Angstober 22. Crocodile Tears Flufftober 22. Heirloom Whumptober 22. BLEEDING THROUGH BANDAGES | Tourniquet | Reopening Wounds | "Oh that's not good." Inktober 22. Camp

Day 23

Kinktober 23. Dominance | Lactation | Sex Pollen Angstober 23. Safe/Unsafe Flufftober 23. Stormy Night Whumptober 23. FORCED CHOICE | Public Display | Broken Pedestal | "I'm doing this for you." Inktober 23. Rust

Day 24

Kinktober 24. Sensory Deprivation | Immobilized | pegging Angstober 24. Dark Sunrise Flufftober 24. Comfort Food Whumptober 24. RADIATION POISONING | Collapsed Building | Equipment Failure | “I never knew daylight could be so violent.” (Florence + The Machine, No Light, No Light) Inktober 24. Expedition

Day 25

Kinktober 25. Blackmail | Teacher x Student | Crying Angstober 25. You’re No Better Flufftober 25. Haunted House Whumptober 25. SURGERY | Stitches | Being Monitored | "It's for your own good." Inktober 25. Scarecrow

Day 26

Kinktober 26. Surrender | Forced Prostitution | Cock Rings Angstober 26. Persuasion Flufftober 26. “I can’t find it.” Whumptober 26. NIGHTMARES | Breakfast Table | Parting Words of Regret | “I'm haunted by the lies that I have loved, the actions I have hated.” (Poe, Haunted) Inktober 26. Camera

Day 27

Kinktober 27. Master/Slave | Face Sitting | Aftercare Angstober 27. Curled Up Flufftober 27. Afternoon Stroll Whumptober 27. VOICELESS | Laboratory | Muzzled | “I have no mouth and I must scream.” Inktober 27. Road

Day 28

Kinktober 28. Sex Toys | Cheating | Fear Kink Angstober 28. Perfect Flufftober 28. Lucky Charm Whumptober 28. DENIAL | CCTV | Exposure | "They caught me red handed." Inktober 28. Jumbo

Day 29

Kinktober 29. Cum Inflation | Swallowing | Cervix Penetration Angstober 29. Get Out Flufftober 29. Time Capsule Whumptober 29. FATIGUE | Labyrinth | Burnout | "Who said you could rest?" Inktober 29. Navigator

Day 30

Kinktober 30. Bondage | Sadism | Monster Fucking Angstober 30. Nothing Else To Tell You Flufftober 30. “Forever?” Whumptober 30. RECOVERY | Hospital Bed | Holding Back Tears | "What have I done?" Inktober 30. Violin

Day 31

Kinktober 31. Fuck Or Die | Pet Play | Deepthroating Angstober 31. It Ends Here Flufftober 31. Make a Wish Whumptober 31. ASKING FOR HELP | Therapy | Making Amends | "I'm alive, I'm just not well." (Elliot Lee, Alive, Not Well.) Inktober 31. Landmark

Alternatives

Whumptober Alternatives

Body Swap

Communication Barrier

Finding Old Messages

Forgotten

Friendly Fire

Motion Sickness

No-Holds-Barred Beatdown

Regret

Secrets Revealed

Shivering

Survivor's Guilt

Time Loop

Used As Bait

Venom

Vermin

Flufftober Alternatives

Last Year's Favorites Alt 1: “I’ve got you” Alt 2: Rainy Day Alt 3: “Wait you love me?” - “I always have” Alt 4: “I hate it” - “No, you don’t” Alt 5: Porch Swing Challenge "Make it Fluffy!" Alt 6: Gravestone Alt 7: Getting Revenge Alt 8: Written but never sent Alt 9: Suddenly Severed Communication Alt 10: Rejected, Betrayed, Exiled, Left Behind

[mystictf]

Shadow Protocol (Interlude Mission)

Word count: 2216

Midnight Briefing - Location Classified

Rain hammered the windows of the blacked out - ops room. Val paced in front of a holographic screen, the glow casting her face in a colder shade of cruelty.

“We lost contact with an asset embedded inside an off-books HYDRA offshoot - codename: Echo Circuit. Think black market tech, synthetic enhancements, human experimentation. They’ve gone quiet. Which is bad.”

She clicked a button. The screen filled with grainy drone footage: bodies on stretchers. Glimpses of metallic implants. Strange machinery glowing blue in an underground lab.

“Our asset’s last message contained one phrase: ‘Protocol unlocked. They’re testing on themselves now.’”

She turned to the team.

“You’re going in. Find the asset. Shut Echo Circuit down.”

No jokes. No protests. Just silence.

Bucky’s jaw clenched.

Yelena tapped her leg rhythmically.

Ava phased slightly without meaning to.

Walker cracked his knuckles.

Bob looked downward. His golden glow flickered - dim, uneasy.

Alexei finally broke the quiet. “So we break things?”

Val smiled, wolf-like.

“Precisely. But try not to break each other this time.”

Mission Infil - 03:22 AM - Black Forest, Germany

A mist clung to the pine trees. The entrance to the facility was buried beneath an abandoned lumber mill. A reinforced elevator shaft led down nearly twenty stories.

They descend in silence.

No quips. No distractions.

Bucky led, rifle drawn.

Ava ghosted through walls ahead, scouting.

Yelena covered the rear security, eyes sharp.

Bob hovered just above the floor, barely touching the ground.

Alexei and Walker were the muscle.

A professional formation.

Until the doors opened.

Facility Level: Sub-Basement

The lab was empty.

Too empty.

Blood, not fresh, painted the tiles. Medical beds were overturned. Monitors still flashed with biometric readouts - but no patients.

Walker swore under his breath. “Where the hell are the bodies?”

Ava turned, her voice low. “Something’s wrong. The frequencies in here… feel warped.”

Bob said nothing, but his head tilted. He looked… alert. Distant. Like a radio trying to tune itself to something that wasn’t there.

Yelena picked up a cracked tablet. Scrolled through data. Her breath caught.

“They weren’t building weapons.”

She turned the screen around.

“They were trying to become them”

Genetic splice data. Enhancer protocols. Stability tests. Failures. Lots of failures.

Project: MIRROR HOST

Status: Activated. Incomplete. Escaped.

Suddenly - BANG!

A blast door slammed shut behind them.

Bucky pivoted. “Trap.”

From the far corridor, a figure stepped out.

Human outline.

Wrong in every other way.

Too tall. Skin like mercury, constantly shifting. No eyes. Just a stretched, faceless mask of shimmering silver.

It opened its mouth.

And screamed.

The lights went out.

Blackout - 03:38 AM

Red emergency lights flickered on, one by one.

Somewhere deeper in the facility, a metallic scream echoed like a sonar pulse. It shook the walls. The team scattered - separated by slamming doors and shifting corridors that should not have moved.

Protocol Shift: The facility was alive.

SECTOR A - Bucky & Yelena

They pressed against opposite sides of the hallway, backs to metal.

Footsteps - wrong ones - echoed ahead. Fast. Staggered. And then… crawling.

“This thing isn’t just some lab rat,” Yelena whispered. “I think it’s trying to mimic us.”

“Not all of us,” Bucky said. “Just the most dangerous.”

A gurgled voice slithered through the corridor. Not quite spoken - more like regurgitated:

“Soldier… Widow… Let me try on your rage.”

Suddenly, the walls in front of them shimmered.

The Mirror Host emerged - not walking, but unfolding.

Its arms elongated, mimicking Bucky’s vibranium left and Yelena’s widow gauntlet in horrifying symmetry.

“Run?” Yelena offered.

“Run.”

They did.

SECTOR B - Ava & Bob

Ava phased through the warped hallway ahead - immediately collapsing to her knees.

“The walls… they’re laced with dark-matter tech. It’s pulling at my quantum state.”

Bob hovered near her, hands pulsing golden but dimmed - like something was resisting his light.

“This place is trying to override me,” he murmured. “Like it knows I don’t belong in the dimension."

“Do you?” Ava asked quietly, panting.

Bob didn’t answer.

Suddenly, from the ceiling, the Mirror Host dropped between them - its face now eerily mimicking Ava’s own, flickering and broken like a corrupted hologram.

“Ghost… Light… Half-things,” it whispered. “Let’s see who blinks first."

Before it could strike, Bob tackled it-not with strength, but with energy, wrapping it in a blinding cage of light that burned shadows into the walls.

“RUN!” He shouted, his voice like thunder.

Ava hesitated. Then phased through the floor.

Bob smiled faintly.

And then let go of the cage.

SECTOR C - Alexei & Walker

This part of the facility resembled a deconstructed simulation chamber - mirrors, obstacle scaffolding, and machine guns mounted at odd angles.

Alexei muttered, “This place looks like American Ninja Warrior, but haunted.”

Walker cracked his neck. “At least you can’t say it's boring.”

Then the lights warped - and four Mirror Hosts emerged, each a distorted version of themselves. One mimicked Alexei’s shield stance, another bore Walker’s swagger and weaponry.

“They’re using our combat data,” Walker growled.

Alexei grinned. “Then let’s feed them bad data.”

What followed was chaos - improvised manoeuvres, shield throws into reflective walls, Walker using his grappling line to clothesline a host mid-air.

Alexei used one of the mirrors to feint his reflections movements, then crushed it with a leaping elbow.

Still, two hosts remained.

And they were learning.

Facility Core - 03:58 AM

Somehow, one by one, the Thunderbolts reconvened in the main vault - a massive, circular room lined with containment pods. Most were empty.

Only one remained locked.

Inside: a girl, early 20s. Buzzcut. Emaciated. Hooked to wires. Eyes wide open - but not blinking.

Yelena knelt to inspect the control panel. “That’s our asset.”

Ava looked at the readouts. “Her name’s Selene Korrin. They were using her to copy our abilities onto themselves.”

“We were never on the mission,” Bucky said, jaw tightening. “We were the test subjects.”

Bob walked slowly to the centre. His body pulsed with quiet fury. The Mirror Host slithered in behind them, now grown into something bigger - formed from fragmented data of all of them.

It towered above.

It smiled.

“Now I know what it means to be Thunderbolt.”

It launched itself forward.

03:59 AM - The Vault is Breached

The Mirror Host launched first - too fast, too fluid. One arm morphed into a jagged version of Bucky’s vibranium one, the other crackled with Widow-sting energy. Its movements were erratic - but precise. Like it was guessing how they’d fight before they did.

Bucky was the first to intercept, blocking the blow with his left arm, while planting a mine on the creature’s leg.

Boom.

It stumbled. Regenerated in seconds.

“Of course it heals,” he muttered.

Walker shoulder-checked it back, using his shield to force it off-balance. “This thing’s like fighting a violent mirror.”

“Then smash the damn mirrors,” Yelena snapped.

She slid beneath its swings, stabbing it with electric rods - sparks burst from the creature’s midsection. For a moment, it split in two. Then recoiled, merging again.

“It’s adapting mid-fight. We’ve got a time limit.” Ava warned. “Every second, it learns us better."

04:02 AM - Bob’s Light Falters

Bob stood back, arms extended, trying to contain the creature in a field of force - but his glow flickered.

“It’s… mimicking me,” he said slowly. “Feeding on my energy signature. If I go full power - it’ll evolve.”

“Then don’t, Ava said. “Yet.”

She blinked out of sight - phased - and reappeared behind the Host, phasing halfway into its shoulder. It spasmed violently.

“You can’t copy what you don’t understand,” she whispered.

The Host reeled - but countered faster than expected, tossing Ava back across the vault.

Alexei caught her before she hit the ground, absorbing the brunt of her momentum.

“I like you better when you are invisible,” he groaned.

“Same.”

04:04 AM - The Asset Awakens

Selene, still locked in the pod, began to scream - not out of fear, but like a frequency rising.

The Host flinched.

Bob’s eyes widened. “She’s connected. She’s… disrupting its programming.”

“She’s not just an asset,” Yelena said, stepping toward the pod. “She’s the fail-safe.”

The Host roared, sensing the shift. It dashed toward Selene, ignoring the team completely.

Walker and Alexei leapt in its path.

“Oh no, Frankenstein. Pick on someone full-sized.”

Walker launched his shield.

Alexei lifted part of the floor plating and used it as a battering ram.

The Host crashed into them, throwing them both.

04:06 AM - The Kill Shot

Bucky, bloodied and silent, locked eyes with Bob. “Can you overload it without feeding it?”

Bob nodded slowly. “Only if it's stunned. Only if it’s… focused on me.”

“You sure?” Bucky asked.

“No. But I’ve been scared of myself long enough."

Bob walked forward.

The Host turned - recognising the challenge - and lunged.

Just before impact, Bob unleashed a blinding burst of energy that fractured the air like glass.

“NOW!” He screamed.

Bucky threw one of Yelena’s mines. Ava phased it into the creature’s chest.

Selene screamed again - and the energy in the room cracked.

BOOM

The Mirror Host exploded in a supernova of silver and gold.

Silence followed.

Smoke. Sparks. Breathing.

No more movement from the wreckage.

Just one phrase from Bob, gasping.

“It saw too much of us. That’s what broke it.”

04:10 AM - Aftermath

Selena collapsed inside the pod. Her vitals stable. The programming severed.

Val’s voice came through on the comms, somehow already aware.

“Extraction en route. Burn the site.”

Alexei looked at the ruined chamber, blinking ash from his lashes.

“That… was almost cool.”

Yelena sat down hard, wiping blood off her lip.

“Let’s not do that again.”

Walker groaned. “Speak for yourself.”

Ava chuckled once, then held her side, clearly hurting.

Bob hovered above the ground again. Quiet. Distant.

Bucky met his gaze.

“You held back.”

“Barely,” Bob said. “Because I saw what I could become. If I didn’t.”

“Let’s make sure you never do.”

DAY 2 - Safehouse Bravo, Romania

The storm outside hadn’t stopped since they arrived.

Wind lashed against old windows. Leaks dripped into buckets placed strategically across the floor. The place reeked of wet socks, iodine, and instant coffee.

John sat in the corner sharpening a knife that didn’t need sharpening.

Alexei had been pacing for an hour, muttering about how “real Russians don’t need debriefs, only vodka.”

Yelena sat on the counter, swinging her feet, chewing on a protein bar like it had personally wronged her.

Ava was curled under a blanket on the couch, headphones on but not playing anything.

Bob hadn’t spoken since they left Germany. He floated between rooms like a thought you didn’t want to have.

Bucky sat in front of the fire, gloves off. Hands shaking slightly. Watching them all.

Waiting.

Until the door creaked open.

And Val walked in.

“You survived. Good. I was starting to worry I’d have to replace half of you.”

Silence.

She tossed a tablet onto the table. It flickered to life with Selena’s face.

Still. Unblinking. Her vitals were stable, but her expression remained hollow.

“Your little rescue? It wasn’t part of the plan.”

“She’s alive,” Bucky said flatly.

“Barely,” Val snapped. “That girl was an AI-human interface prototype. She was the hub for Mirror Host. Designed to be absorbed. Sacrificed.

Yelena’s feet stopped swinging. “You knew that?”

“Of course, I knew that. That’s why we sent you.”

A beat.

“Not to rescue. To witness. To see what happened when something made from your patterns, your instincts, was released into the wild. A copy of your rage. Your trauma. Your loyalty.”

Walker stood. “You set us up.”

“I studied you."

Val shrugged off their reactions like dust from a jacket.

“And what did I learn? That even when cornered, even when mimicked, you fought for each other. That was… surprising.”

She looked at Bob, lingering too long.

“Even you, Sentry. For all your instability, you didn’t burn down the world. Not this time.”

Val walked out the door.

“Selene’s being moved to an off-books recovery facility. You won’t see her again.”

“She was conscious in there,” Ava whispered, “Screaming. You kept her awake while you let that thing rip her apart.”

“She’s useful, Ava. And she volunteered. A long time ago.”

Yelena looked at her like she might kill her.

Alexei actually growled.

Bucky stood slowly. Voice low. Dangerous.

“If we ever find out you’ve got another one of those -”

“You won’t,” Val said. “Because you’ll be too busy keeping yourselves from falling apart.”

She turned.

“Congratulations, Thunderbolts. You passed the test. Rest up. You’ll be back in the field soon.”

The door slammed behind her.

Silence.

Just fire and breathing.

John rubbed his face. “She’s lying about Selene. Right?”

No one answered.

Bob finally sat.

“I saw myself in that thing. Not just what I could become - but what someone wants me to become. Weaponised trauma. Manufactured monsters.”

“That’s all of us,” Bucky said.

“Except we didn’t break,” Ava whispered.

“No,” Yelena said. “We broke it instead.”

Alexei sat down hard. “I need ice cream.”

Later That Night

Bucky stared out the window. Yelena joined him. No words. Just the shared silence of survivors.

In another room, Bob hovered near the ceiling like he couldn’t trust gravity anymore.

Walker snored on the couch. Ava had fallen asleep beside him, head on his shoulder - barely touching, but there.

Alexei had eaten four frozen waffles and passed out in a recliner.

Battered, bruised, and stitched together.

But a team.

Somehow.

[catrionaalexandra]

Chapter 10 — The Mirror Bleeds, Part 1/2

Resident Evil: Sable Dawn

“To know yourself is to risk seeing…”

⚠️ Graphic content, murder & blood⚠️

Black Market Airstrip – Norwegian Wilderness

The snow came down like smoke from a fire—quiet, suffocating, and disorienting.

It swirled through the air like ash, falling from a sky marred by bruised violet clouds.

Standing motionless at the edge of the airstrip, Y/n’s coat flared in the rising wind. Her boots ground against the ice-covered gravel beneath.

Her breath emerged in faint wisps, each exhale shallow, and every inhale a challenge.

Her gaze was fixed on the overgrown structure carved into the cliffside, a wound that had never fully healed.

Leon stepped beside her, scanning the ridgeline through binoculars. His M4 hung across his back, catching the dying light with a dull gleam. “No movement,” he said in a low voice, his breath briefly fogging the lenses.

“There wouldn’t be,” Y/n’s tone was steady and absolute. “This place was buried a decade ago.”

What remained of Umbrella Site N-3 was a mere concrete blemish, barely visible beneath encroaching snowmoss and crumbling fencing.

However, Y/n knew better. The true structure lay beneath them, stretching deeper than the mountain could ever tell.

This was more than a lab, it was a crucible.

A crucible where Ivy—Y/n—herself had been forged into the woman she is today.

Now, after Thornbridge’s encrypted leak and a decoded trail of corrupted logs, it was the last verified location of her clone—not a person, but a mission.

—

The air inside carried the tang of rust and ozone.

Their flashlights moving through the dark like surgical blades, turning shadows into jagged shards of memory.

The walls bore remnants of fire lines and scattered bullet impacts, and ceiling panels sagged like dead skin.

Y/n moved ahead of Leon, her boots silent despite the rubble.

She glided like a needle through skin.

One hand brushed the wall, tracing a path along shrapnel-scarred metal.

“This place,” she whispered, almost to herself, “taught me to kill before it taught me to breathe.”

Leon stopped beside her, studying the deep gouges in the floor where restraints had once been fixed, “You trained here?”

“I was bred here,” she turned to face him, her expression illuminated only by the cold glow of her flashlight. “They called us ‘cuttings,’ fragments grown from damaged roots.”

Leon’s brow tightened, “Spliced?”

“Spliced, shaped, and discarded.” Her voice was devoid of emotion, only lilt with fact, “We weren’t made to survive, only to execute.”

A sharp noise—glass under strain—snapped from behind a nearby door. Leon instinctively raised his weapon, but Y/n held up a hand to stop him.

“Foundation shift,” she said, unfazed. “This place sinks a bit more every winter. We used to bet on when it would finally collapse.”

They continued down a corridor lined with viewing rooms, cracked glass walls resembled fractured teeth.

Observation equipment was frozen in time: mugs still half-full, hastily scribbled notes, and names she hadn’t forgotten.

Then they reached the cryo chambers.

Most were broken, long since abandoned or wrecked. A few still fizzed softly, their amber lights blinking with traces of half-life data.

But one remained sealed.

Leon approached it, wiping dust from the screen.

The screen blinked green, then red.

SUBJECT: IVY.CROSS_02

STATUS: AWOL

DIRECTIVE: TERMINATE ORIGINAL

He exhaled sharply, “So they cloned you and sent it to kill you.”

“No,” Y/n replied, stepping beside him. Her reflection stared back through the frost-covered glass—familiar yet foreign. “They didn’t just clone me, they created a weapon and gave it my mind.”

Leon turned to her, “What do you mean—your mind?”

“I’m not just talking about memories,” her voice darkened. “They didn’t just copy the data—they rewrote my history, edited it, and inserted failures that never happened. They grafted their narrative into her skin. She thinks she’s me—cleaner, sharper, and loyal.”

She scanned the console, “They didn’t design a killer, they engineered a disciple.”

Leon muttered, “Fucking hell.”

Y/n remained silent, her gaze fixed on the inner frost of the chamber. A smear of red caught her eye—fingernail tracks etched into the glass, frozen mid-scratch.

“She woke up early,” Y/n said. “Pulled out the IVs, left before the shutdown triggered.”

Leon straightened, sweeping his light across the corridor, “So she’s on the loose.”

“She’s not loose,” Y/n said, voice dropping to a murmur, “She’s hunting.”

Flashback — Year 2009, Training Room 12

Fluorescent lights buzzed overhead, a high, droning whine like a dying insect trapped behind glass.

The sterile pallor cast across the concrete walls.

The air smelled of metal, bleach, and cold sweat—the signature scent of this place, so ingrained in her lungs that she would likely carry it for the rest of her life.

The mirrors lining the far wall weren’t decorative.

They were intended for examinations conducted from behind the scenes, reinforcement devices and tools of disassociation.

They showed her what they needed her to become.

Not a girl, not even a soldier, but something built, enhanced, and refined by violence.

Seventeen-year-old Y/n stood alone at the centre of the padded floor. Her posture was precise, yet her body ached under the strain.

She had long ago stopped hoping for breaks or mercy, those were liabilities.

Hope didn’t survive here.

What emerged from the pain was whatever learned to bite back harder.

A bruise, ugly and dark, flowered under her jaw. Her knuckles were raw and rusted with blood, flaked and dried from yesterday’s drills.

She hadn’t washed them.

That was part of the conditioning, a sick reminder.

Scars were memory made visible, wounds were trophies you weren’t allowed to celebrate.

Behind her, the voice came—rough, clipped, and unwavering.

“What do we call you?”

Dr. Walton’s voice, though not loud, was terrifying. It was clinical and devoid of inflection, as if programmed to only deliver orders and corrections.

He never yelled; he didn’t have to. The threat was always implied, lurking beneath every syllable like a scalpel beneath a purple glove.

Y/n’s gaze slid to her reflection, she barely recognized herself anymore.

Eyes too still, her mouth set like a scar, shoulders locked in a permanent readiness to absorb impact.

Her bones knew more about bracing than resting.

“Ivy,” she said, the word catching on the raw edge of her throat.

“Louder.”

She hated this part, the naming, the erasing of one’s identity.

This wasn’t repetition; it was a ritual of dismantling.

“Ivy!” she snapped.

No hesitation. She didn’t get to do that anymore.

She heard his pen scratching against the clipboard, that damn scratch was its own language.

A tally of mistakes and a sentence passed.

“What are you?”

A breath caught in her throat, it was just a second, one heartbeat, but that was enough.

“I’m the future.”

The silence was immediate and difficult to bear.

Wrong answer.

Always the wrong answer.

“No,” he said, his voice like a closing door, “You’re the perfect lie.”

And then—the shot.

A single crack tore through the room, splitting the air like lightning. Y/n didn’t jump or flinch, her ears rang, but she didn’t lift her hands to them.

That was the test, every second was a test.

Warmth speckled her cheek, she didn’t need to look to know what it was.

Beside her, Jacob, the boy she had sparred with every morning for the past six weeks, dropped.

Dropped.

Like a sack of bones, like his body was too heavy to carry. Blood pumped rapidly from his head, thick and fast, but then his body twitched once and then nothing.

His eyes were still open, and they were confused, like he hadn’t figured out yet that he was dead.

Y/n kept her eyes forward, she wouldn’t turn and she didn’t move.

Her breath was steady, that too was rehearsed.

She could hold it for a minute without shaking.

Behind her, Walton let out a slow, measured exhale. Not frustration. Not even cruelty.

“Better,” he said, already walking away. “Next time, don’t lie to me.”

His boots echoed on the floor, a lingering sound that receded but never vanished, like a clock winding down or a countdown to something inevitable.

The door slammed behind him, Y/n didn’t move for a long time.

Only when the silence got too loud did she turn toward the mirror again, her reflection was a stranger.

Blood and bits of brain glistened on her cheek, and sweat beaded at her hairline.

Her fists were clenched so tightly that her nails had broken skin.

She stared at herself, not the pose, not the posture, just her eyes.

Searching for something still alive in them.

She whispered it, not for Walton, not for them. Not even for Jacob, whose blood still spread across the floor behind her.

“I’m still here.”

The voice that spoke it sounded unsure and unconvinced, a trace of the girl she used to be echoing from somewhere deeper than memory.

And she didn’t know if that girl had survived the shot.

Flashback End

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[shirefantasies]

Hello!! I saw that you're temporarily open for matchup requests so I hope that I'm not too late with this! :) specifically from LOTR please~

I'm female, 5'7", Virgo, ISFP, with stronger preference for males. I have pale skin with dark brown hair and dark brown eyes. My wardrobe mostly consists of darker colors, my favorite combos being black with red or pink.

I consider myself empathetic and honest. I am reserved most of the time, only ever talking if someone else initiates the convo, though I can go on and on about my hyperfixations and interests. Like even when I'm with a group of friends, I'd stay quiet most of the time and just listen so I may come across as a bit socially awkward. I've been told I'm a good listener and so I end up being someone many confide in or as someone who becomes stuck in the middle of a conflict. I am a night owl and get easily exhausted or even irritated when I'm out and it's crowded so I definitely need time and space on my own to recharge after a long day. I suppose among love languages, I lean to using words of affirmation. When I do have enough energy, I also like to cook and bake for my family and friends (and get upset if it doesn't end up turning right).

I really like animals, especially big cats, dogs and wolves. My favorite genre of fiction is horror so sharing scary/ghost stories would be my favorite group activity. My sense of humor tends of be on the dry, sarcastic side. My preferred methods of workout are swimming, badminton, and walking. When I get bored, I tend to doodle and hum. I don't consider myself a good singer and I'd only get the confidence to sing in front of others if I was a bit tipsy (I don't drink much, I am so lightweight it's not even funny and if I do, I stick with cocktail or beer).

In video games that involve combat and exploration, I tend to rely on speed and stealth (my footfalls are actually quiet irl too). Among weapons, I prefer using swords (dual wielding, if available), though having a bit of magic would be fun to use too (especially if you can set things on fire) :3

congrats on the 300 followers!

You are not at all! Thank you for waiting between my recovery buffer posts & older matchups! So here we go now love! Your match is…

Legolas!

Some people joke what a funny couple you are due to you both seeming so quiet, but in truth you are drawn to each other’s peace. Legolas is drawn to your gentle presence, the light falls of your steps upon the bank of the river where he meets you, water flowing at your feet. You are not the only one swimming that day, but you cut such a majestic figure as you move gracefully through the water, emerging with illuminated droplets descending from your dark hair. Since that very first moment you stuck in Legolas's heart.

He loves the way you hum as you work, dark skirts swirling about the floor as you swish through the kitchen. A smile plays on his lips as he compliments the work you've let out to cool and you drily tease him about stealing it. Instead, he offers to help hand it out and you are grateful to save your energy. Normally you do not prefer company in the kitchen, but this elf's presence is calming rather than draining. Your motions and his assume a rhythm unbroken by distraction.

He runs into you out in town, smiling at the large dog following at your heels while you carry your basket. You look content as you go to market, purchasing all you need. Catching the way your hand runs wistfully over a small ornately bound book, he finds his feet carrying him to market as well, his hands delving into pockets and being rewarded with the weight of a tiny tome. The following day's trip to your kitchen is met not with wry humor, but wide smiles and sheepish revelations of art. "You may think them the smallest of sketches, but to me I see a connection to this world." "Is that your way of saying you can't draw?" Yet another smile you've drawn from the elven prince. "You've caught me there."

When orcs attack your village, his first thought is to get to you, your hearth and your dog and all your little captures of your surroundings, and let any who dare trifle with it know it has a blade and a bow behind it. Boots thudding lightly as always against dirt, then stone, he arrives outside your home to see you there, a glinting sword swinging in each hand. Grinning, he shakes his head. He should have known. Shooting one of your twin assailants off you, he joins the fray. "Sorry I'm late." "You should be!" You grin back at him. "This party started an hour ago."

This visit has only a few days left. Ignoring that, you climb higher into the tree before you settle, pulling the red-and-black swirled book from your small satchel. Legolas sits in the crook of the tree right below yours. "Shall I read or would you prefer to?" It's as if he can sense your energy, see right through your facade to the highs and lows of your heart. The book in question held some of your favorite ghost stories, old legends and more local frights alike. You joke about the prince being able to handle it, but in the end you know whose voice you would prefer to ring out with it that day.

You are the only one Legolas trusts to saddle up his horse, hand him the bags he'd surreptitiously caught you slipping a copy of your book of horrors into as a memento. He says your name softly as a wish when you stand at his mount's side, catching your nod before he captures your lips with his, motions slow, deliberate as if he would wake up from the dream at any moment. Your name is even more delicious whispered after a kiss. "Wait for me." "Who else would I even look twice at?"

Taglist: @lokilover476 @fuckyoumakeart @mossthebogwitch @ibabblealot @kilibaggins @joonies-word @stormchaser819 @pirate-lord-of-narnia | Reply/Ask/Message to join 🥰

[novaonhere]

See You Later

Relationship: Cal Kestis x f!reader

Summary: Cal ends up being one of the causalities to the Ninth Sister.

Word Count: 1.4k

Warnings: Death, cussing, mention of blood, bullets

A/N: GET THE TISSUES, apologies,

Prompt: “Hey, at least I loved you till my very last breath, right? Like I had promised.”

(gif not mine)

————————————————————————

You sit beside Gabs, making small talk about dinner plans as you wait for Cal and Bode to finish interrogating the Senator. You and Gabs exchange many smiles and laughs, starting to share inside jokes.

You and Cal have been with this crew for a while, which happily surprised both of you. You haven't had a stable crew for a hot minute and were happy falling into a better routine with people you cared about and trusted.

This was the same crew that showed you and Cal how DESPERATELY in love you two were and finally just locked you in the ship's bathroom until you told each other. It was one of the twin's ideas, but they wouldn't tell you which one. Since then, you and Cal have been all over each other. It's been a few years since your first kiss, and things have been running smoothly, relationship-wise.

You fell in love with him more and more each day, especially since you both live a life-or-death type of lifestyle. You never know when your last day is with each other, so you make each one count.

Senator Daho Sejan sulks behind Cal and Bode, one smiling back at the girls and one giving a quick small grin. You nod to your boyfriend, knowing he isn't in realization mode just yet.

"I'm thinking we make your famous stew, (Y/N)," Gabs smiles, slinging an arm around you as you make your way toward the front of the ship. You laugh, reciprocating the friendly gesture. Cal's eyes lighten up by Gabs's words.

"Oh, we definitely should stop by the market then," Cal smiles, catching up to you. He slings an arm on your free shoulder, placing a kiss on your temple.

Of course, any nice moment in your life had to be interrupted by an explosion. Unfortunately, this one was too close for comfort. Boxes of ammo and weapons exploded in front of the crew, launching everyone backward. Everyone equips their weapons, waiting for disaster. A large ship lands just feet away from you as everyone branches themselves behind some intact boxes. Breathing heavily, you, Cal, and Gabs look at one another, the color leaving everyone's faces.

Bright lights shine down onto the crowd. You and Cal throw up your hands, trying to block the light, but keep a hand on your sabers, ready. Three ships enter your line of sight, one slowly lowering to land on the platform in front of you. The Senator takes this as a moment to shake his way in front of the crowd.

"What took you so long?" He cries out, stomping his way up towards the shadowy figure slowly emerging from the ship. "While you've been chasing shadows, I have been-" A burst of red light appears and in an instant, lands on the Senator. No, pierces through the Senator. Cal takes his free hand to push you behind him, watching the Senator slowly be dragged to the dark figure.

The figure grabs the Senator by the shoulder, hoisting him up. The red light from the saber illuminates their face.

"The Ninth Sister..." Gabs whispers out, pain and anger behind those words.

"You've been caught harboring a traitor," She says, clutching onto his shoulder harder. The Senator doesn't flinch, probably already dead. He retracts her saber back into her hand, flinging the corpse to the side. She turns to the group, both you and Cal in fighting stances.

"KESTIS!" She calls out to your boyfriend. He doesn't move a muscle but trying to Force you behind him. Confused, you try to push up next to him.

"Together," You state, making sure the rest of the crew was safe.

"Take care of everyone else," He frowns, glaring daggers at the beast. "She's mine." You nod, trusting your boyfriend.

"OPEN FIRE!" She calls out. In an instant, bullets are whizzing past your head as you duck for shelter. The twins call out and go charging before Cal can stop them. You turn to your right, reflecting bullets from one of the ships that were aimed at Gabs.

"GET INSIDE!" You call out to her. You dare peek to the ship seeing the boys trying to fire at the ship, but with the amount of armor, deemed a bit useless. As she stands up to move, she yells out. You don't hear what has been said, but feel her tackle over you. Two bullets graze way too close to your ear as you both fall onto the floor.

"Thanks G-" You choke. Gab's eyes aren't filled with light, the corner of her torso burnt and bloodied. You scream out, tears brimming your eyes.

Cal watches the scene play out as he also deflects bullets. In a fit a rage, he runs towards the Inquisitor. Everyone is screaming for him to get back, it's not worth it, yada yada. All you could hear was the two sabers bouncing off each other. Time seemed to have stopped, and this overwhelming coldness drifted over your body. Bullets flew past you, surprisingly, not hitting you at all. It wasn't until Bode pulled you back into him that you came back to reality.

The reality of a bright red light.

The reality of that light illuminating through Cal's chest.

Without much thought, you snatch Bode's gun and take two shots at the Inquisitor's head. Unfortunately, one bounces away, and one only skims her ear. She calls out in pain, retracting her saber and fleeing.

Cal's legs have yet to give out, but are so bent they're practically on the floor already. You drop the blaster and run. You've never ran so hard in your life, you thought your lungs were going to fly out of your back. Sliding up to your boyfriend, he collapses into your touch. You vision is blurred from tears as you brush his hair out of his face. It was wet with sweat.

His breathing is ragged and unsteady. His eyes are wide and staring up at yours. You look to his torso, but the sight only makes your cry out harder.

"(Y/N)," He whispers, shakingly reaching a hand up to your face. Tears pour down your face, watching the life slowly leave the redhead.

"No, Cal," You sob out, holding him tightly in your lap. "You can't leave, not now, not ever. I love you." Your lips quiver, your hands shake. His eyes start to roll back then focus on and off. "PLEASE!"

“Hey, at least I loved you till my very last breath, right? Like I had promised.” Cal smiles weakly, dibbles of blood coming out of the corners of his mouth. "I love you, do what needs to be done." And with that, he becomes cool to the touch.

Your sobs echo through the space. Your chest becomes heavy, your eyelids droopy, your face and lips chapped. You hold him tightly, bringing your face down to his, resting your forehead on his.

Bode and Bravo watch, arms crossed and winced. It took all of their willpower to start the dreaded walk over. To make it real, and not a shitty part of the show. Bode tried to separate you two but you kicked and screamed like a toddler. When he was finally able to separate you, you flung yourself into his embrace, wheezing and hiccuping from the lack of oxygen. Bravo picked up who used to be Cal, and followed you two to the ship.

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

You place a singular petal on Cal's chest. Bode and Bravo helped you set up proper burials for those who had died, and they left you to be alone with Cal for one last time. You shakingly place his light saber across him, letting one of his hands rest ontop of it. You stare at him, his face abnormally white, the freckles stood out even more. His hair was pushed out of his face, and his nose seemed more crooked than ever before. His eye bags had sunken in, as if he was ready for the best sleep of his life.

Leaning down, you place a long kiss to his forehead. And with that, you took a match and lit underneath the table. You couldn't bear to watch.

"See you soon," You hiccup out, trying to hold it together. Slowly, you turn around and head back towards the ship.

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

A/N: Great, now I'm depressed.

[reverieshifts]

𝑻𝒉𝒆 𝑪𝒍𝒆𝒎𝒆𝒏𝒕𝒊𝒏𝒆 𝒑𝒕. 𝟐: 𝒅𝒆𝒔𝒊𝒈𝒏 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒔𝒚𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒎𝒔

𝒔𝒄𝒊-𝒇𝒊 𝒅𝒓

𝒔𝒉𝒊𝒑 𝒄𝒍𝒂𝒔𝒔 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒄𝒐𝒏𝒇𝒊𝒈𝒖𝒓𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏

Class: Modified mid-class freighter (original designation untraceable)

Dimensions: Compact and fast—built more for speed and evasion than cargo bulk

Original Use: Unknown. Judging by the design mix, she may have once been a light cargo hauler, but at this point, almost nothing about her is stock.

𝒉𝒖𝒍𝒍 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒂𝒓𝒎𝒐𝒓

Plating: Mismatched but reinforced. Some hull panels are standard titanium composite, others are salvaged from military vessels. I once found a piece stamped with a defense contractor logo. Soren played dumb.

Damage Markers: Scars from asteroid grazes, plasma burns, and at least one railgun strike that tore through the starboard side before being patched with a piece of what appears to be an old satellite dish.

Stealth Coating: A stolen stealth coating on one side (only one side), giving her a bizarre half-gloss appearance when flying in certain light.

𝒑𝒓𝒐𝒑𝒖𝒍𝒔𝒊𝒐𝒏 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒎𝒂𝒏𝒆𝒖𝒗𝒆𝒓𝒂𝒃𝒊𝒍𝒊𝒕𝒚

Here’s where things get... illegal.

Engine Type: Tri-core fusion drive (overclocked illegally)

Thrusters: Multi-angle vectoring thrusters scavenged from a racing skiff

Hyperspace Drive: Installed after-market. Very not standard. Definitely not licensed. Burns through fuel like sin, but gets the job done.

Maneuverability: Shockingly agile for her size. She’s not built to win dogfights—she’s built to not get hit.

Speed: Capable of outpacing most patrol cruisers and nearly anything in her class. Soren once escaped a blockade by flipping her vertical, killing main thrust, and gliding between two gunships with only manual microthrusters. Clemmy didn’t love that. But she did it.

Max Velocity: Classified (by Soren) as “if she shakes apart, you pushed her too far.”

Signature Trick: Emergency micro-bursts for fast stops or rapid angular shifts—great for dodging, terrible for unsecured passengers.

𝒐𝒇𝒇𝒆𝒏𝒔𝒊𝒗𝒆 𝒔𝒚𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒎𝒔

While not technically a warship, Clemmy has teeth—and Soren is not shy about using them.

Primary Weapons:

Retractable twin plasma cannons mounted under the nose (illegally modified for rapid cycling)

Hidden turret along the dorsal fin with full 360° tracking (camouflaged beneath sensor shielding)

Secondary Systems:

Ion net disruptor (used for disabling ships mid-chase)

Forward grappling harpoon (officially for salvage… unofficially for “creative boarding solutions”)

Mod Notes: All weapons have been internally rewired for faster charge times and energy efficiency. Soren insists it’s “completely safe.” The ship disagrees. The floor near the control relay is still scorched.

𝒅𝒆𝒇𝒆𝒏𝒔𝒊𝒗𝒆 𝒔𝒚𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒎𝒔

Shielding: Layered energy-dispersal field adapted from outdated military specs. It’s finicky, but when tuned right, it can absorb an entire volley without so much as a flicker.

Hull Reinforcement: Polyceramic inner shell under the patchwork hull. Not factory standard. Probably military surplus. Possibly stolen.

Cloaking:

Partial stealth mode: One side only. Meant for short bursts, ambushes, or dodging sensor sweeps. Jax once described it as “trying to hide behind your own arm.”

Signature Dampeners: Basic-grade dampeners, good enough to fool low-level scans or confuse weapons locks for a few seconds.

Countermeasures:

Chaff and flare deployment for missile evasion

ECM scrambler array that definitely violates at least five galactic communication laws

Reinforcement Field: Short-range gravitic pulse projector, used to knock boarding parties off balance or repel magnetic tethers.

𝒏𝒂𝒗𝒊𝒈𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒑𝒊𝒍𝒐𝒕𝒊𝒏𝒈

Primary Navigation System: Jury-rigged hybrid between an outdated freighter nav-core and a racing AI module. The interface is messy, but the calculations are blindingly fast—when they don’t crash mid-jump.

Manual Controls: Everything important is mapped to tactile controls. Soren doesn’t trust full automation. If the nav AI glitches mid-dive, he wants to feel the override.

Autopilot: Exists. Technically. Mostly used as a glorified parking brake or when Soren needs to sleep for 20 minutes in a safe orbit.

Charting Software: Half-legal, half-pirated. Capable of plotting hyperspace routes through narrow, high-risk corridors that most ships avoid.

Backup Systems: A wall-mounted hardcopy star chart in the cockpit. Just in case. Zia thinks this is hilarious. Soren calls it “responsible.”

𝒅𝒐𝒄𝒌𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒄𝒂𝒑𝒂𝒄𝒊𝒕𝒚 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒂𝒄𝒄𝒆𝒔𝒔

Docking Clamps: Can attach to standard civilian ports, refueling stations, and most illicit trade hubs. May need to be “persuaded” into alignment.

Shuttle Bay: None. She’s too compact for internal hangars. Instead, she has one reinforced top-hatch cradle rigged for small detachable pods—used rarely, and only when absolutely necessary.

Airlocks:

Main Port: Standard-sized, sealed, and usually a bit stubborn when opening.

Secondary Hatch: Hidden behind a supply wall in the engine bay. Used for stealth entries and exits.

𝒓𝒆𝒑𝒂𝒊𝒓 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒎𝒂𝒊𝒏𝒕𝒆𝒏𝒂𝒏𝒄𝒆 𝒏𝒆𝒆𝒅𝒔

Routine Repairs: Constant. Something is always groaning, leaking, sparking, or “just about to give out but not yet.”

Spare Parts: Stored in crates scattered across the ship—engine parts in the pantry, coolant lines under the bench seat, wiring spools in my hydroponics pod (which I do not appreciate).

Self-Diagnostics: Unreliable. The system either reports “everything is fine” (it’s not), or starts shrieking about seven simultaneous reactor leaks (there are none). Soren usually ignores it and just listens to the hum of the engine to diagnose problems.

Repairs in Flight: Doable. Often necessary. Soren has made mid-warp hull welds while dangling from a tether. Zia once had to climb into the bulkhead to manually restart a fried fuse bank after a flare surge.

Critical Weakness: The fuel converter. If anything’s going to go first, it’s that. It’s been patched, rewired, and coaxed with offerings—but one day, it’s going to die loudly.

𝒔𝒚𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒎 𝒊𝒏𝒕𝒆𝒈𝒓𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏

Power Grid: Custom-wired. Inconsistent. If too many systems are running at once (say, stealth mode, shields, and weapons), things start flickering. Choosing what gets power is sometimes a strategic decision—or a desperate one.

AI Integration: No full AI. Just a scattered handful of voice-assist systems, diagnostic subroutines, and a navigation core that occasionally asks Soren if he’s “sure about that” when he plots something stupid.

Voice Recognition: Primarily responds to Soren’s voice, but Zia has jury-rigged access to certain commands—especially life support, lighting, and doors.

𝒅𝒐𝒄𝒌𝒊𝒏𝒈/𝒃𝒐𝒂𝒓𝒅𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒇𝒆𝒂𝒕𝒖𝒓𝒆𝒔

Hard-dock only. No fancy mag-coupling or remote landers.

Zero-G Transfer Capability: Yes, with magnetic grip points and a manually sealed transition tunnel.

Boarding Defense: Reinforcement field, sealed bulkheads, and at least three blasters stashed near the doors “just in case.”

𝒔𝒚𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒎 𝒏𝒐𝒕𝒆𝒔

Most systems are custom-built, hotwired, or frankensteined together. Only Soren knows how everything works—and even he sometimes has to hit things to make them run.

Diagnostics require manual calibration. The ship’s internal sensors are either hyper-sensitive or utterly dead.

Flight path records? Wiped. Regularly. On principle.

𝒊𝒏 𝒔𝒉𝒐𝒓𝒕:

Clementine might look like a rustbucket. But she’s got the firepower of a private gunship, the speed of a racer, and the evasive instincts of a hunted animal. She doesn’t win fights with brute force—she wins them by being faster, smarter, and just illegal enough to stay one step ahead of the galaxy’s worst.

𝒆𝒙𝒕𝒓𝒂

Ok, I'm gonna be honest here, my friend who's really into sci-fi had to help me write most of this, because as I've said before, I know like nothing about it. So all the fancy technical stuff in here was all him.

@aprilshiftz @lalalian

[spann-stann]

Setting Blurb: The Solar System (Reworked)

• Sol Invictus: The physical “center” of human civilization in the 3600′s. Most settlement of the Unconquerable Sun (renamed after the Human-Crystalline War) centered around the development of solar energy platforms by all members of the Big Three. Specially made habitats built to withstand the Sun’s heat also orbit it, housed by those that wish to hide from the rest of the Universe in the light of the Sun (Ex-Serviles, disgraced WCOF Party members, and market failures).

• Mercury: Mercury was not subject to colonization like the rest of the bodies in the Solar System. Rather, it was made into a giant strip mine to feed the Corporate Empire’s growing infrastructure. To supply the needed manpower, large numbers of Serviles (violent criminals sent to be worked to death) and industrial Serfbots were shipped to serve in removing any/all valuable materials the tiny planet could offer. Some enterprising Imperials have pitched the idea to convert the mined-out portions of Mercury into layered habitats. A moderately sized population of monks has been growing as well.

• Venus: The terraforming of Venus was a massive project initiated around the end of the Second Dynasty. The Human-Crystalline war put a temporary pause on that project. The once-Amber Planet is now entering the end of its second Ice Age, the descendants of those that staked claims centuries ago were more than eager to live their ancestors’ dreams. To celebrate the triumph of Venus’ terraforming, the settlers of Venus have all employed passive cooling into their housing, no more living in air-conditioned cylinders for them! The majority of the planet (and orbit) is CorpEmp, with the palatial estates of the Kechua-go, Silavfirika, and the Eurekan Ulus dot their three Terrae (major continents). The Neuhansa of the United Markets also enjoy perusing their open-aired markets, located on prime beachfront and alpine real estate dotting the planet. Even the World Congress of Freedom’s prestiged Party members have a few dachas in secluded locales.

• Earth: The former crown jewel of Human civilization, slowly healing from the near-endless use of nuclear weapons used during the Human-Crystalline War 800 years ago. With the Earth’s decreasing radiation, more and more call for the re-colonization of the homeworld. A few important sites remained inhabited, mostly areas that attract tourists and pilgrims. The many battlefields that dot the surface are treasure troves of old technology and resources (human and alien). While a majority of Earth’s human inhabitants evacuated, some decided to wait out the apocalypse. Many survivalist and bunker-building cultures thought that the rest of humanity would be “purged” by the invading aliens and retreated into their underground shelters. Slowly but surely these cultures have emerged and regained contact with the outside world. The Big Three’s plans to individually retake Terran territory may result in inevitable conflict with these “successors” to the Earth. The environmental fanatics of the Green Consensus have maintained holdings on the Earth as well, and they have made it known that those responsible for the nuclear bombardment will not have an inch of the Earth without paying some sort of price...

Earth Orbit: The myriad peoples who live in Earth's orbit pride themselves on being the "guardians of the motherworld". Being directly above the birthplace of humanity, Earth Orbit is the most culturally diverse and has the largest population in the Solar System. While many Terrans bemoan not living on Earth proper, many more recognize the profit in living right above the universe’s largest wilderness preserve and pilgrimage site. Each of the Big Three have claimed a chunk of Earth orbit for themselves: The Terran Viceroyalties, CorpEmp’s mighty satrapies in their cylindrical habitats control all Geocentric Orbit above 35,000km (everything below geosynchronous has been a no-go zone post Crystalline War). The Viceregal habitats are built as counter-rotational pairs, one habitat houses the population in a patchwork of rural communities (its interior recreating the landmass of an empire in the corresponding Viceroyalty), and the second a nature preserve (both based on the environment of the habitat’s founders). Their ultimate goal is constructing a series of linked habitats known as “rungworlds” surrounding the Earth. Earth-Moon Lagrange point 5 is under United Markets control. The leadership of the many Megacorps that survived WW3 and the rise of CorpEmp laid claim to this Lagrange point during the divvying up of the Solar System after what was called “Worlds War One”. Their slowly losing ground to the Covenanters of the Belt is of no concern to those that dwell in Terran orbit. UM habitats are a mishmash of architectural styles, designed to attract different kinds of immigrants and tourists. Some habitats don’t house any permanent population at all and are meant to offer some sort of service (casinos, colossal hunting preserves, etc). Their latest operation is offering discount prices for prospecting equipment for those eager to do some “private Terran reclamation” on the Earth’s surface. Lagrange point 4 is fully controlled by the World Congress of Freedom. Although the Party headquarters has been relocated to Titan, E-M L4 is still a large population center for the WCOF. Habitats constructed for habitation in this polity tend towards the minimalist. Inside the habitats, most if not all space provides some function to serve the revolution. Needs are met but wants may cost the average Party member that doesn’t have the right connections. WCOF space in Terran orbit is heavily fortified, with Clonscript garrisons on every habitat providing security for the resident Party Members.

• Luna: The first celestial body to be colonized by Humanity, the many domed habitats on the Moon’s surface now served as humanity’s oldest settlements still surviving the destruction of the Human-Crystalline War. The Big Three’s settlements on the near side of Luna are a patchwork, as colonial claims were established on a “first come, first serve” basis. This resulted in frequent border skirmishes between the colonies. This bad blood has yet to really subside even in the 3600s. As a result, the Moon was never fully terraformed. Large, pressurized domes serve as the barriers to the many colonies, and lava tubes beneath the lunar surface were made habitable as well. The Big Three colonies are concentrated in the Lunar Maria, with Reserves preferring their own little domes on the far side. Lots of millenarians flock to the dark side, in a manner of speaking.

•  Mars: As greenhouse emissions are used to help terraform the Red Planet, Mars is only second to the Asteroid Belt in terms of industrial output. Mars was divided evenly into thirds, following a series of border conflicts erupting into Humanity’s first interplanetary war. Each of the Big Three received three Terrae each on the Red Planet. CorpEmp received Tempe, Xanthe, and Sirenum Terrae. The United Markets received Arabia, Sabaea, and Noachis Terrae. Finally, the WCOF took Cimmeria, Promethei, and Tyrrhena Terrae. Aonia Terra, was set aside to serve as a wilderness preserve for retro-engineered megafauna. Argyre Planitia was designated for extensive Reserve settlement. Mars was the site of the second worst terrestrial battles in the Human-Crystalline War, leading to lots of expended munitions that can be dug out of the ground. This resulted in munition excavation and recycling being the largest industry on the Red Planet and plenty of minor conflicts have broken out over rights to spent shells along the Big Three’s colonial borders.  Phobos became exclusive CorpEmp territory. The entire moon serves the Imperial Space Force; and is dotted with training, construction, and housing facilities. Deimos was divided by the UM and WCOF, with plenty of Reserve settlements acting as a buffer between the two.

• Asteroid Belt: While CorpEmp and the WCOF control “gateways” through the Outer Solar System, the major centers of the Asteroid Belt, Ceres, Pallas, and Vesta, are exclusively under United Markets control. Unlike the Inner Solar System, which is mostly the domain of the UMs founding megacorporations, the Asteroid Belt is home of the UM’s Covenanter culture. Small, insular, and very militant mining communities, Covenanters have slowly grown to become the dominant culture within the UM. So much so, that many Megacorp personnel defected to the Covenanter memetic when they evacuated to the Belt during the Human-Crystalline War. The Covenanters have not rested on their laurels and launched multiple colonial expeditions within and beyond Sol in recent centuries. The pirate mothership Libertatia, flying under the banner of the UM, also prowls the Belt to prey upon statist spacecraft.

• Jupiter: Following the conclusion of the Worlds War One, and the consolidation of colonial territories in the Inner Solar System, the Big Three came together to divide the Outer Solar System. Rather than sharing the outer planets, the Big Three split the gas giants between them. CorpEmp received Jupiter the King of the Planets. Slowly but surely, concentric band of settlements formed orbiting closer and closer to Jupiter itself as CorpEmp tech could counter the planet’s strong magnetic field. To prevent Jupiter’s growing colonial project being a projection of the Terran Viceroyalties’ influence, the earliest colonies were constructed with a quota system, with a certain amount of kingroups from each Viceroyalty to move into the colonies. This policy was subsequently dropped as the Human-Crystaline War entered its terrestrial warfare phase, and refugees fleeing the Inner Solar System needed housing. Similar to the Terran Viceroyalties, each of the Galilean moons’ orbits serves as an autonomous entity, their precedence ranked in order of settlement. Except for Io (which is mined for its resources), the moons themselves are mined for ice and water, and are home to aquatic life (mostly Terran stock, with a few indigenous lifeforms). Seafood is a staple of Jovian diet. Minor moons and the Trojans are dotted with small CorpEmp settlements and independent squatters. The Hildan asteroids were (begrudgingly) ceded to the United Markets. Jova Prota (Callisto’s orbit) is home to CorpEmp’s fifth ruling dynasty. Jova Terta (Europa) is the sulking ground of House Rotthey of Europa (a cadet branch of the first dynasty).

• Saturn: Saturn, after Worlds War One, was awarded to the World Congress of Freedom. Immediately, the Party Leadership drew up plans to develop the ringed planet as the “revolutionary core” of human space. Titan, due to its cold temperatures, was slated for a special sort of settlement. The Party Leadership sought to recreate the old cybersyn system of economic management, and the vast computer complexes required for such an undertaking would use Titan as a planetary cooling system. The others 145 moons of Saturn would be mined until they were hollowed out and made to spin so they provided Earth-like gravity. Initially, there wasn’t a large rush to populate the new territories. Non-Party citizens moved to Saturnian orbit, as Party membership was offered to those that would help bring the Party’s vision of Saturn to life. The population of Party members would dramatically increase in the 2800’s during the Human-Crystalline War, as the fighting on Mars, Earth, and Venus forced many civilians to flee into the Outer Solar System. The decisive space battle in Saturn’s orbit, that ended major combat operations of the war. Most of Saturn’s minor moons have been made habitable in the 3600’s, with Titan’s governing cybersyndicate having loftier ambitions as the major moons are continued to be hollowed out themselves. The ring of Saturn would be harvested, and replaced with an orbital ring, allowing for even more housing for a larger population.

• Uranus: The third of the Outer Solar Systemto be granted after Worlds War One, Uranus was given to the United Markets. Although the Asteroid Belt already served as their industrial core, the United Markets primarily mined the planetary system for volatiles and ice. Increase in Uranian gases has increased, as it is the easiest of the giants to extract Helium-3. For a time, Uranus was sparsely populated. The Megacorps preferred the thriving markets of the Inner Solar System, and the growing Hoppean Covenant was content to mine the Asteroid Belt to their heart’s content. Uranian colonization was undertaken by only small expeditions, UM and Reserve in affiliation, and primarily staffed by robotic mining equipment. It was only after the Human-Crystalline War, and the devastation of the Inner Solar System did the movers and shakers turn their eyes to the ice giant. Primarily, this was due to the Megacorps’ leadership thinking they could seek shelter in the Belt. The already established Hoppeans, not that receptive to the Megacorps they moved to the Belt to get away from arriving on their turf. So they made it simple: comply with how the Hoppeans run the Belt, or skedaddle. The Megacorps took the latter and began to build their headquarters in Uranian orbit. The planetary system was made a freeport for scientists looking for ways to bring Humanity’s collective population back to pre-war levels (that could afford the rent to orbit Uranus anyway). The “From Scratch Society”, advocates for artificial human genetics, have made Uranus their homeworld (or at least the moon Oberon).

• Neptune: While Jupiter was the primary location for CorpEmp refugees during the Human-Crystalline War, some groups thought it necessary to go further and established themselves on Triton. Gears started turning in the minds of CorpEmp leadership and allowed the settlement of Neptune to continue during the War. Once the War came to an end, the other polities of the Big Three couldn’t really contest the annexation, and as a concession Neptune’s Trojans were ceded to the UM, and Pluto to the WCOF. As Jupiter was CorpEmp’s mining powerhouse, Neptune served as a home for Crystalline War veterans (primarily the Knights of the Starry Temple) and some eccentrics. A few families of engineers, utilizing mass-streaming technology, sought to construct a planetary shell around Jupiter. As Neptune was smaller (and had a weaker magnetosphere) than Jupiter, these engineers then moved into Neptune’s orbit and use that planet as a proof-of-concept to show their plans for Jupiter are feasible.

• Pluto and The Kuiper Belt: Pluto and its four moons were given over to the WCOF after a diplomatic snafu over CorpEmp refugees squatting in Neptunian orbit. Like the Saturnian moons, the end state of each body in Pluto’s orbit is going to be hollowed out and spun up to better allow human habitation. Whatever minerals found inside will be repurposed to further along the construction. While the Inner System houses most of the Party’s membership, and Saturn the Party’s leadership, Pluto would house the more eccentric and problematic members of the Party. Inspired by the Covenanters in the rival UM, the self-styled “Plutonian Congress” seeks to further advance the revolution. The Kuiper Belt and Oort Cloud are considered “free space”. Too damn big to effectively govern, and no real way of fighting over it all. So, it’s free space. The largest of the Trans-Plutonian objects serves as stations for motherships making their way to and from the Extrasolar Territories. The Kuiper Belt and Oort Cloud are mostly home to lonely mining habitats, Reserves that really want to be left alone, the occasional Space Force patrol, and the mythical location of the “Catgirl prison complex” (believed to have been built during the Transhuman Wars). Many have tried to find this El Dorado of the stars, but none have succeeded.