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[idciminlove]

FIGHTER.

Part Two - O

Kang Dae Ho x f!reader

Cinnamonacid on AO3

Warnings- death, blood, gore, shooting, (red light green light game) murder, slight PTSD reactions, mentions of past OD, etc.

You play the first game.

There’s something off about this place. You didn’t trust it. Didn’t trust how easy it was to win that money from the salesman, over nothing but a simple kid’s game, didn’t trust the fact that you were basically drugged when you were brought here, and you didn’t trust the masked men that gave you the instructions. It was far too secretive, far too easy. But it wasn’t like any scheme you’ve seen before, and you needed the money.

The salesman had given you the money for winning ddakji, making good on his promise, while you only had to pay for your losses in slaps. (They hurt, but you were used to being hit much harder.) He gave you a business card with shapes and numbers on it, which inevitably led you to here, where you were promised even more money.

45.6 Billion. With that kind of money, you could pay off your debts and pay for your mother’s treatments. You could take care of her and maybe even buy a nice place for her to stay after her treatments.

So you did as told, signed the contract and followed the other players as they went to play the first game. Classical music echoed from the speakers, bouncing off the all brightly painted walls and staircases. You stared at the player in front of you, a woman wearing a matching green tracksuit to yours. You were all matching, except for the varying numbers that set each of you apart. There were so many people here, the total amount probably somewhere in the hundreds. It made everything so crowded.

“Ah, my good luck charm. I’ll be winning these games for sure.” A voice called from behind you. You looked over your shoulder, spotting an older man, which you recognized. He bet on your fights, and went to almost all of them. He was one of your favorites to see amongst the crowd.

“What are you doing here, old man?” You remarked, happy to see at least one familiar face in the sea of strangers, making you feel much less alone.

“I’m here to win and make some money, just like everyone else, and now that you’re here, I definitely will.” He was a gambling addict. You knew that with how often he was betting at your club, but there was something about him being there that made you feel good. Even when you were on a losing streak he would bet on you, time and time again, never losing faith.

You had a drink with him once, after a win. Let him tell you about his wife and kids and his old job, before he got fired and imprisoned for fraud. You never thought of him differently. He had been struggling, just like you.

That’s why he’s here, after all.

–

It’s strange, being two places at once. Both outside and inside, with the walls around you painted the matching background of a farm, but the ceiling was gone, and you could see the sun and the sky, and feel the breeze against your skin. A large doll shaped like a young girl stood on the wall opposite to you, facing straight ahead, with two guards standing next to both sides.

You listened to the instructions, which were quickly interrupted by one of the players, number 456. He walked ahead of all of you, shouting something about how you all had your lives at risk, with guns in the walls, and moving sensors in the doll’s eyes. You couldn’t fully comprehend what he was saying, the skeptical remarks from the other players overpowering his words. The others talked about how he was crazy, how he was trying to scare them into losing, how he was probably drunk off his ass. You didn’t know what to believe.

The doll turned towards the tree and moved her hands over her eyes. The timer started to count down. 456 didn’t stop shouting. Everyone was skeptical. You took a deep breath, centering yourself. You felt calm and confident. It’s easy, just a kid’s game. You could win this.

You heard the gunshot before you saw it happen. 196. The bullet flying through her forehead, blood and brain matter scattering, some of the blood splattering right onto 230’s face.

You’ve seen dead bodies before. You saw your father's. You found him when he overdosed. But that was different. You never saw anyone die in real time, never saw the light fade from their eyes, or the bullet go through their head. It almost didn’t feel real.

Panic broke out, people were screaming and trying to run away. There were more and more gunshots. 456 shouted over the screams, and you tried to breathe, tried to focus and listen to his voice. Breathe, just breathe.

The timer was running out, you were going to have to move. On the next green light, you ran ahead, doing as 456 said, to get behind someone. You stood behind a taller man, studying the number on his back, trying to focus and stay calm, despite the adrenaline and fear running through your veins.

388. He looked tall and strong, but he was shaking like a leaf, his hands trembling as he tried his hardest to stand still. He was terrified, just like you.

You gazed at a woman beside you, noticing her hands shaking as well, but much more visibly, no one standing in front of her to protect her. She got shot.

It was still a red light, but you found yourself moving, reaching over and grabbing 388’s hand and holding it, hiding it behind his back. He almost jumped, startled from the contact, but he stopped himself.

You don’t know why you did it. Maybe it was the fact that you didn’t want to see another person shot right in front of you. Maybe it was the adrenaline making you move before you could think. Or maybe it was something else. You didn’t know. All you knew was that you didn’t want him to die.

“Don’t let your hands shake. They’ll catch you.” You whispered, squeezing his hand softly. He didn’t respond, just squeezed your hand back, his bigger hand trembling around yours.

Green light!

You moved in front of him, not letting go of his hand, leading him ahead. It felt nice, to have something to hold on to. To have someone there with you, knowing that you’re not going through this alone, even if they were a complete stranger. It gave you a brief feeling of safety in this death trap of a game.

Red light!

A group of people beside you got shoved, all toppling over like dominoes. You recognized one of the players that were pushed, as the old man you knew from before. Your heart dropped. The group shouted in surprise or anger, but it was already too late, with all of them getting shot in the head or chest killing them instantly, including that man. You couldn’t help but let out a small gasp.

It was 230. He had done it with a smile on his face. Smiling. The fucker was smiling. Smiling like this was a joke. He had just killed a man, one who was kind, one with a family, one who had believed in you, and he thought it was funny?

Rage and sadness brewed inside you, the emotions desperate to break free. Your hands began to shake. You wanted to make him pay.

388 squeezed your hand, grounding you, making you remember where you were and what you were doing. You calmed down slightly. 230 was a problem for later. Right now, you have to survive. Not only for yourself, but for your mother as well.

So you kept going. Once you got close enough to the finish line, you ran. You ran for your life, ran so fast you felt your lungs burning and your legs shaking. 388 followed close behind, holding on tight to your hand, the both of you interlocked, refusing to let go of one another.

Just before the last red light, you dragged him across the line, doubling over and panting softly. You made it. You survived..for now, at least.

[cammonaghanluvr]

Last day of my first GW! 🥹 @gallavichthings

Day 7 : Free

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ⋆.˚✮ Fillings ✮˚.⋆

By : cammonaghanluvr (BirdieBoo_22 on Ao3)

Cw! : Swearing, Dentist/Dental work

Mickey was nervous. Really nervous. His hands shook as he tried to calm his nerves. But nothing helped. Ian had his hand on the man’s thigh and could feel the nervous quivers run through it. “We should just go home. I’m fine.” Mickey said.

“No, Mick. We need to get this tooth fixed.”

“Mikhailo Milkovich?” A hygenist called his name. Mickey stood and his husband followed. “Are you joining us?” The woman asked Ian.

“Yes. This is my husband.” Ian says with a soft smile, his hand on Mickey’s back. The woman nods and leads them down a corridor. It was sterile and had fluorescent lights on the ceiling with some private exam rooms lining the side.

“We’re gonna snap some X-rays first.” She turned into a room with a computer, a chair, a few cabinets, and a big X-ray camera. “Take a seat in the chair for me.” Mickey sat. Ian stood just outside the room watching as the woman laid a heavy led apron on his husband. She grabbed a bite wing from a drawer and covered a sensor in some plastic. She arranged all of that in Mickey’s mouth and brought the camera to his cheek. She stepped out of the room next to Ian and clicked a button. “All done!” She re-entered the room and removed everything from Mickey’s mouth, and hung the apron back on the wall. She then led the couple into a secluded exam room and had Mickey lay down in the chair. The chair. Everyone knew that chair. The squishy pleather that smelled of chemicals and dead dreams. “Dr. Banks will be right with you.” The woman left the room.

“I’m gonna puke.” Mickey said, nervously looking over to his husband who stood next to him. Ian leaned down and kissed the raven-haired man’s forehead.

“It’s ok. I know you’re nervous. Just try to take deep breaths ok? And you know Dr. Banks is always sweet. You’ll be ok, my love.” Ian grabbed Mickey’s hand and squeezed it tight. He sat in a chair off to the side and nodded reassuringly as Dr. Banks walked in.

“Hey! It’s my two favorite patients.” She smiled softly and pulled on some gloves. “How are we?”

“Great. Thanks Doc.” Ian smiled softly. She looked at Mickey who still hadn’t responded.

“I take it someone’s nervous?” She spoke softly, sitting down on her rolling stool as she put her mask up. She leaned around and clicked around on the computer.

“Yeah. Quite a bit.” Mickey managed.

“No need to be. I looked at your X-rays, and it’s just a cavity. Pretty small, no big deal. All I’m gonna do is numb you up, clean out the affected area, and fill the hole.”

“Question Doc.” Ian spoke, his tone sounding like he had a plan. “What’s that loopy gas stuff you put on the little kids when they won’t calm down?”

“Nitrous? God I remember putting Carl on that one too many times when you guys were young.” She chuckled. “What about it?”

“Could you give some of that to Mick? Maybe it’ll help calm his nerves.” Ian said, glancing at Mickey.

“Wait what? You want her to get me high off some goofy bubblegum gas so I’m dazed out and she can rip my fuckin’ teeth out?”

“Mick, no. It’ll just calm you down a little.” Ian said, trying to calm his husband.

“We could try it. And I don’t actually have bubblegum flavor, I hate to break it.” Dr. Banks smiled.

“Fine…” Mickey said, tone similar to a reluctant adolescent. Dr. Banks then began the process of filling Mickey’s cavity. She hooked him up to the nitrous and began prepping her tray. She inserted the drill bit into her hand piece, prepped the composite gun, and the bonding material. Ian held Mickey’s hand, but watched intently and she locked into her work.

“Open wide Mickey…” Dr. Banks’ voice was soft and relaxed. She’d done this tons of times before. She gently administered the novocaine through a needle into the gums near Mickey’s tooth. She removed the nitrous mask from his face and placed a pair of sunglasses on Mickey’s eyes before waving on her light. She slipped her loops over her eyes and turned on her drill. She slowly started to drill away the affected area of the tooth while shooting water into Mickey’s mouth with her air water device. She had the suction hanging on the edge of his cheek sucking up water and bits of decayed tooth. She worked precisely and quickly, her movements practiced and perfect. She set her drill down and rinsed the hole. She dried it with air, and suctioned any extra moisture away. She then laid bonding and filled the hole, curing with blue light after.

“Is it done…?” Ian asked softly.

“All done.” Dr. Banks said with a nod. Mickey had fallen asleep in the chair.

[storm-angel989]

Valentino x daughter reader how would he react to reader sneaking out then coming home in the middle of the night drunk and how would the rest of the vees react. Also don't forget to drink water love!

Hi!

I actually think I have a double of this request, so I'm writing two different stories so I can answer both requests <3

Here is the first one! Enjoy!

<3 Mandy

Being Valentino’s daughter wasn’t easy.

Sure, my Aunt and Uncle were Velvette and Vox- and together the three of them made up the most powerful overlords in all of the Pride ring. 

But being Valentino’s daughter meant that everywhere I went, I had an escort. Which meant misbehaving as a general rule was greatly frowned up, if not proactively prevented. It meant wearing a VoxTech watch and clothes that were almost certainly bugged and tracked- just in case.

Many demons want to hurt us, mi amore, my father explained to me when I was little. We just want to make sure you’re safe.

At age five, those safety features came in handy. All my teachers bent over backwards to be nice to me- especially after I hit Vox’s face on my watch for the first time and he came raging into the school. At age ten, it meant birthday parties under the watchful eye of either one of them, or a body guard. At age thirteen, it meant my friends group kept secrets to include me in the latest parties. And by sixteen, I had perfected the art of sneaking out of the tower at night.

But maybe not the art of sneaking back in. 

Somehow, I found myself in the lobby of the V tower, the room spinning. Sure, I had been drinking, but not enough to get drunk. Never enough to get drunk. My Daddy had warned me early on to say no to drugs and to watch my drink. 

Carefully, out of view of my Uncle Vox’s cameras, I slipped into the elevator and hit the sixth floor button. Our flat was on the seventh floor, but if I entered on the sixth floor and climbed the staircase, I could sneak in a hellofalot easier. I leaned back against the elevator and sank to the floor as the lurch of the elevator knocked me off balance. As I heard each floor ding past, I giggled to myself. 

The door opened and I slowly made my way towards the back of the dark flat. I wasn’t technically allowed in here but I wasn’t…disallowed either. Was that the right word? Not like my Daddy’s studio where I wasn’t allowed, ever.

Slowly, I climbed up the stairs, pausing to catch my breath every few steps. The feeling of vibration, of the room spinning was getting worse. Wait! I had just the thing! I sank to the floor just outside the door that led into our flat and dug around in my purse until I found it. A shot of vodka, given to me by a boy at the party. What did they call it? Hair of the dog? What a silly name. 

I swallowed the contents of the bottle and pulled myself back to my feet as I pushed open the door. My stomach churned and I couldn’t tell if I was hungry or if I needed to be sick. Tiptoeing down the hallway, I made my way towards the living room. I just needed to get to my room, just a few more steps….

All at once, the lights came flooding on. I groaned and sank down to the floor for the third time. Shit. Had Uncle Vox installed motion sensor lights since the last time I went out?

“What are you doing Ninita?” my father’s voice growled from the elevator. 

“Daddy? Wh, why’re you awake?” I slurred. 

The feeling of the room spinning was worse now. I laid on my back and pointed my knees to the ceiling. 

“I’m just coming home from work. The better question is, why are you up? And what the fuck are you wearing?” He demanded.

He knelt down next to me and leaned his face down next to mine. I stared at the ceiling and swore I saw my Uncle Vox and Auntie Velvette looking down at me. But that would be silly, right?

“Daddy, why are you working so late?” I mumbled. 

“Have you been drinking?” Vox’s voice demanded.

“Sure looks like it,” Velvette’s voice chimed in.

“And smells like it. Alright, let’s get you to bed little girl,” my father’s voice said firmly. “Or at the very least on your side.”

“I haven’t been out, I swear!” I half yelled as my father pulled me to my feet. I felt myself pitch forward and his arms caught my waist.

“We don’t care where you’ve been, can you tell me what’s in your system at least?” Valentino asked as he half carried me to the bedroom. “Vel, I need you to…get her into pjamas or something.”

“Vodka! Oops. I mean, soda. Rum! Coke?” I answered with a giggle. “The good stuff.”

“The drug or the drink?” He asked as he sat me on the bed. 

I felt his fingers under my chin and I giggled as I fell to the side. 

“I’m going to assume the drink,” he mumbled. 

I watched him step back and turn away. Velvette stepped forward and the next thing I knew I was in my pajamas on my side. All the sudden, the joy I felt went away, replaced by an ache in my belly. 

“Who wants to babysit?” I heard Valentino ask.

“Daddy? I don’t feel good,” I mumbled.

I felt hands lift me upright and my head rested against the plastic of the garbage can. 

“That’s right ninita, get it all out,” I heard my father mutter. “Vel, can you braid back her hair? And Vox, go downstairs, grab an IV kit so she doesn’t wake up with…”

“No, Valentino. Don’t baby her. I mean, don’t let her die but let her suffer the consequences of a hangover,” Vox replied. “Let her wake up feeling shitty.”

“Vox is right, you know, maybe it will make her less likely to do it again,” Velvette added. 

“I think I’m good! Gimmie the…gimmie the IV Daddy,” I lifted my head up.

Valentino gently wiped my mouth. “I think it’s time for bed, ninita. We can talk about this in the morning.”

“Daddy I’m fine! I’m…” I leaned over the garbage can as more liquid came up. “Ugh…my tummy hurts.”

“Yeah, it’s going to,” he muttered. “Just get it out of your belly.” 

The next thing I knew the sunlight streamed through the window. Every part of my body ached and I groaned at the aching in my head. 

“Good morning sunshine! Nice to see you’ve finally joined the world of the living!” Vox’s too loud voice echoed in my bedroom.

I cringed. “Ow, Uncle Vox turn the sun off.”

“Aw, baby does your head hurt? How’s that tummy feel? A little nauseous?” He asked. “Here, I’ve got two pills and a red gatorade for you. Down they go. When you’re ready, I’ll make you toast.”

“What happened? Where’s dad?” I muttered as I took the proffered medicine. “Ugh, my head. I feel like I got hit by a truck.”

“You’re the one who decided to drink last night,” Vox said lightly. 

“I need a shower,” I grumbled as I swung my legs off the bed. I stood up and the room spun. I felt Vox’s hands hold me for support. 

“Let’s get you hydrated before you go solo, com’on. Out to the living room,” he said.

I flopped on the couch and closed my eyes. Fucking hell, was this what a true hangover felt like? God, I never wanted to drink again. 

“Not feeling too good, hm mi amore?” My Dad’s voice floated across the livingroom. 

I felt his hand on my forehead. “No, Daddy, I don’t.”

“Maybe next time you’ll think twice before trying to sneak out,” he said lightly as he pushed back my hair. 

I felt a cool cloth cover my forehead and eyes and let out an exhale. “Ah, Daddy that feels good. You don’t have to worry about me sneaking out, I’m never drinking again, I swear.”

“If you change your mind, I promise getting out will be a lot harder next time,” Vox’s voice added. 

“Just make the pain go away,” I begged.

“Sorry sweetheart, time is the only cure. But we can discuss your consequence when you’re feeling better,” Valentino replied. “Until then, might as well close your eyes.” 

I groaned. “You’re the overlord of lust and depravity, don’t you have a magic cure or something?”

I heard him laugh. “Oh sweetheart. This is one lesson you have to learn on your own.”

[indeedcaptain]

Regulatory Relations, Chapter 22: The Captain

Holy fucking shitballs, yall. This is the end.

Posted on my AO3 here.

All I really have to say after this is thank you.

☆☆☆

Dear Mom and Dad, 

Dear Winona and George, 

Guess what!

Hi, 

[Are you sure you want to close the program? Your content will not be saved. YES / NO] 

☆☆☆

On the first day after the trial, Kirk took ShiKahr’s public transit from Amanda and Sarek’s house through the city center, and out the other side. Alone on the train as it flew along its magnetic track, he watched out the window as the now-familiar sandstone buildings whirled by. They passed the judicial complex where he had spent the entire previous day: he had walked in a suspect and walked out a free man. It rose up before him, sprawling and imposing, passed in an instant, and then vanished. Kirk turned forward again, letting the rest of the city pass him by, and waited for his stop.

The Vulcan Science Academy complex was housed on the outskirts of ShiKahr, built without formal boundaries to account for its near-constant expansion. It crept further and further out into the Forge— the buildings nearest the public entrance were the oldest, their corners sandblasted into curves by the desert wind, but the newest ones, built to house new advances in technology and new fields of research, were still sharp-edged and angular. The hospital was one of the oldest buildings in the complex--- one of the oldest buildings in the city, according to the lecture Spock gave Kirk and Bones that morning over breakfast. It had originally been a temple, housing healers in the millenia before Surak, a holdover from Vulcan’s war-torn history. Even after the wars had ended, the people who lived on the planet needed care, and so the temple of healers remained, now known as one of the most advanced teaching hospitals in the galaxy. 

Kirk gave his name at the front desk, which was manned by a young Vulcan woman wearing scrubs and a student badge, and was granted entrance. He rode a swift and silent elevator up to the eighth floor and stepped out into a warmly lit hall. Enormous windows at either end of the hallway and the recessed light bulbs set into the ceiling gave the impression of midday sun, despite the early hour. He heard voices coming from the left side, and so he turned that way. 

Around another corner he found two Vulcan doctors and a third human one, deep in conversation next to a bench and a variety of potted cacti. The human doctor, with graying red hair and a petite build, turned to him as he approached and said, “I thought you might come by.” Sarah April nodded to the other doctors before she gestured in front of her, and Kirk fell into step beside her. She led him deeper into the labyrinthine building--- the layout designed before the Vulcan preoccupation with logic--- and eventually stopped next to a closed door with a Vulcan sign appended to the front, a phonetic translation of April’s name. She smiled with sad eyes and said, “I’ll be outside if you need anything.” 

Kirk nodded, and opened the door. 

Admiral Robert April lay quietly in a biobed, surrounded by beeping machines and sensors. His head had been shaved, electrodes stuck to his scalp in a neat grid, and his dark skin was sallow under the lights. For a moment Kirk stood in the doorway, unwilling to wake him if he was resting, but then April rolled his head on the pillow to look at him. 

“Enter,” he said, and Kirk did. There was a chair tucked into the corner with a blanket folded over the back of it. Kirk dragged it next to the bed and sat. The whites of April’s eyes were yellowed with exhaustion. Kirk looked at him; the man who had set everything in motion. How much of his behavior was Elise pulling the strings? How much was April unleashed? 

“What do you want, Kirk?” April’s voice was tired, dry, almost a whisper. Kirk had had grand plans--- he had rehearsed what he wanted to say on the train ride there. He had told Spock where he was going and what he wanted to do, and Spock had sent him off with a kiss and a promise to see him later. But his words failed when he looked at the battered body of the man he had thought was his enemy. 

He still saw the phaser fire before it tore through Spock when he looked at April. He saw himself on his knees in the gritty dust of Kindinos, and saw the sniper with the plasma rifle settling her sights on both of them. But he also saw the blinking brutality of the neutralizer and April’s muffled screams beneath it. He saw April, months ago, trying to pull Spock to safety with a promotion to a science ship far from him. He saw April fighting that hidden programming to allow him and his crew to leave the 31 ship with Elise in tow. 

Elise would have hated what he was about to do--- she never could have understood it. Maybe that was why he had to say it. 

“Thank you,” Kirk said. “For what you tried to do for Spock.” April rolled his head away from Kirk, looking up at the ceiling, and scoffed tiredly. 

“For all the good it did, in the end.” 

Kirk shifted to the edge of his chair. He had expected defensiveness, or the silent treatment; not this bone-deep resignation. “For all the good it did? Admiral, if you hadn’t forced the issue, you would still be stuck on that ship and that woman would still be running Section 31.” April looked back at him. “Spock and I only put together all the pieces after we had to start talking about marriage and bonding, and we only did that because you were going to take him away otherwise.” Kirk considered April’s shaved head, the scattering of machines and their symphony of beeping and whirring. He could have left then, his mission accomplished. But something in April’s haggard face told him that the other man was lost.

“I’m sorry that she did this to you,” Kirk said recklessly. “And I’m sorry for putting you here.” April shook his head shallowly. 

“I knew…” he said slowly. “I knew that the charges were a sham. I knew they wouldn’t stick. This was what I wanted.” His voice dragged, like he was having a hard time connecting his mind to his mouth. “You can go, Kirk.” 

Kirk didn’t move. “What are you going to do next?” 

“Resign,” April said. “Retire.” 

“That’s it? You’re going to give up?” The volume of his voice rose involuntarily. April’s eyes flashed to him--- the first movement that matched the vigor that Kirk had come to expect from him. 

“What would you have me do? Weasel back into a desk job after I defiled everything Starfleet stands for?”

“And how much of that was voluntary, Admiral? How much of working for 31 was voluntary at all?” 

In a blink, the fight melted back out of him. April looked away from him. “I don’t know,” he said. “I don’t know anymore.” 

Kirk leaned back in his chair, and for a moment they sat in silence, the only sound the beeping of the machinery. Then Kirk said, “Can I be honest with you?” 

“I doubt anyone could stop you from doing so.” 

“I don’t think it matters anymore, whether or not you know if it was voluntary,” Kirk said. “Enough of it wasn’t, and then you fought it. What matters now is what you’re going to do about it.” 

April raised one hand weakly and gestured at the hospital room around him. “And what am I going to do about it?”

“Fix it,” Kirk said. “Find a way to talk about what you can’t talk about, and then help fix it.”  When April finally looked at him again, there was a spark of life in his eyes: there was hope, a desperate hope, and the yawning cavern of an isolation that Kirk could only begin to understand. 

“How?”

Kirk shifted his chair closer again. “Listen,” he said. “On Vulcan, what she did to us is called nekwitaya …” 

Their situations were different, of course; the sheer volume of scarring in April’s brain was going to require a lot more hands-on medical care than Kirk had needed. But there was no better place for April to recover than on Vulcan, where a planet of telepaths and scientists understood the gravity of what had been done to him. Here, though there was no undoing what had been done, April stood a chance of healing from it. 

When Kirk left, Sarah April was sitting outside the room, reading on her padd. She stood as he exited, concern pulling her eyebrows together and deepening the creases in her face. Kirk sent her Dr. Rowan McIntire’s contact information, and then he went home. 

☆☆☆

The rest of that day was spent on logistics and organization. Kirk and Spock’s bonding would have none of the violence and circumstance of Spock and T’Pring’s koon-ut-kal-if-fee . They were not children, and there would be no challenge: they needed only their consent and a telepath to perform the bonding. Kirk was vaguely disconcerted by the sheer number of details that went into what was, in effect, a simple backyard wedding ceremony, and made a note to give Janice a commendation for coordinating both their engagement party and their first wedding with seventy-two hours’ notice. 

Despite the fervent and genuine invitation that Kirk had extended, Neera Ketoul excused herself from the bonding festivities after he returned from his visit to April. “I do have other clients to attend to, Captain Kirk,” she said, but she shook his hand warmly when he walked her to the aircar that would return her to the transport hub and away. 

“If there’s ever anything that we can do for you, just say the word,” Kirk said. “We could not have done this without you.” 

“Maybe not,” she agreed, with her hand on the door of the aircar. She considered him, her dark eyes and skin shining under the hot Vulcan sun. “My people are not part of the Federation,” she said. “There is a lot of mistrust on both sides, perhaps too much to overcome. But men like you make me think that someday it could be.” 

Later that night, as Bones washed and dried the dishes from dinner, Amanda reached out to the clan to request the services of a healer to perform the bonding, and Spock convinced a local restaurant to cater enough food for at least twenty people on such short notice, Kirk received a high-priority message on his padd from Starfleet HQ. 

Dear Captain Kirk, 

Congratulations! Though, naturally, the details of your court-martial are classified, I’ve received a new set of orders that make me think I can guess how it went. I’ve been called to Vulcan immediately to assist with [THIS MESSAGE HAS BEEN REDACTED]. 

My formal title might be regulations administrator, but not many know that this role includes enforcement, compliance, and oversight, as needed. I think I’m going to have a lot to do over the next few months. 

I’ve been asked to assemble a team for it, which is why I’m reaching out today--- it’s a bit irregular, but if you’re willing to sign off on the transfer and if she agrees, I’d like to request Yeoman Janice Rand for it. She’s got an unparalleled grasp of how and why regulation works in practice, and I could use a mind like hers for what we’re trying to do. 

Let me know what you think, and what she thinks. 

My best to you and the commander. :)

LC Kathleen Lee

Kirk read the message twice before carrying it to Spock, claiming the open seat next to him at the island in the kitchen. Spock scanned it and said, handing it back, “If Yeoman Rand takes this post, I do not believe we will see her again in any short amount of time.” Bones turned to them curiously, leaning back against the counter with his arms crossed. He cocked an eyebrow up. 

“Oh, I think we’ll see her again,” Kirk said. “It’ll just be when she’s running for president of the Federation.” 

☆☆☆

On the second day after the trial, the morning of his and Spock’s bonding ceremony, Kirk sat undressed on the end of their bed and stared at the empty text block on his padd screen. 

Dear Mom and Dad, I’m getting married today, again. 

I’m Vulcan-bonding with my first officer today. 

Did you go to Sam and Aurelan’s wedding? Would you want to come to mine?

Spock stepped out of the bathroom, barefoot and in an untied robe, and sat down next to him to look at what he was working on. Kirk closed the program and tossed the padd on the bed behind him before leaning into Spock. He was warm and fresh from the sonic, olive and bronzed from months on Vulcan. 

“Do you wish your parents were attending?” Spock’s voice was gentle. 

“Not enough to have written them about it earlier,” Kirk said, and when Spock leaned over him, one long hand against his sternum, he let Spock push him backwards onto the bed. “There’s so much to fix before we’d even get to that point.” 

Spock’s lips brushed the skin behind his ear, down his neck, across one collarbone. “At our current rate, we will have another wedding in approximately eighteen months. You can reevaluate at that point.” Kirk laughed, and Spock’s hand skimmed down his arm, flipping their hands to be palm-to-palm and pressing his down into the mattress. 

“I thought you were tired of parties,” Kirk teased. Spock nipped at him. 

“I have been convinced of their utility,” he said, and slid his hands under Kirk’s hips in a clear attempt to distract him further. His efforts were successful.

The survivors arrived at the house just as the sun was beginning its graceful descent towards the mountains on the horizon beyond the Forge. Kevin wore his dress uniform, but the others were in civilian attire: Ellie and Tommy in near-matching black suits, much to Mira’s delight, and Martha in a dress. Mira wore a hot pink one-piece garment that Kirk couldn’t have named if he had tried, but he watched with a grin as Ellie teased her dryly about having brought party clothes to a court-martial (“We were only coming to testify!”) and Mira defended herself (“Wasn’t I right, though?”).

Bones also wore his uniform. He sidled up to Kirk as they greeted the survivors at the front gate, Vulcan’s closest approximation to a mint julep in hand. 

“Seems to me like you’re starting to wrap things up here, Jim,” he said. “You’ve got more time. No need to rush back into things.” 

Kirk glanced sidelong at him as his friends passed by, led by Amanda towards the garden where the bonding would take place. “I think I’ve had enough time away,” he said. “I don’t want to sit still any longer.” 

Bones’s eyes were shrewd. “But you did sit still for at least a little bit, right?” Down the road a pair of figures began to materialize out of the heat shimmering off the pavement: a round human figure with a short dark thatch of hair, and a bear-sized lump of white and brown. 

“I did,” Kirk said, and watched as the two abstract shapes slowly became Rowan and Suk’han as they approached. “Actually, this is someone I’d like you to meet.” Rowan wore her everyday professional attire that Kirk had come to recognize, but she had woven cactus blossoms into a crown and placed it jauntily over Suk’han’s ears. 

“You’re looking well, Jim,” Rowan said, and smiled approvingly. He grinned and shrugged back at her before turning to Bones. 

“Rowan, this is my chief medical officer, Bones. Leonard McCoy, this is Rowan McIntire. She, ah… she’s the new therapist.”

“Oh?” Bones extended his hand, turning completely towards her to get a better look. 

“The famous Dr. McCoy!” Rowan shook his hand and accepted his inspection. “Tell me, how do you get Bones from Leonard?” As they clasped hands, some sort of mysterious medical understanding passed between them; when Bones smiled back at her, it was genuine. 

“You ask him politely, ma’am,” Bones said, and Rowan laughed wickedly. Suk’han, apparently tired of not being the center of Kirk’s attention, pushed her head against his sternum and leaned a portion of her significant mass against him. 

“Hello to you too,” he murmured, and passed his hands through the thick fur at the base of her neck. She nuzzled him sweetly, and for a moment, abandoning his pretexts at dignity, he threw his arms around her neck entirely. Then he released her, left Bones and Rowan to get to know each other, and went to find his husband. 

The senior staff of the Enterprise were next to arrive. In small groups they beamed down outside the garden gates: Sulu, Chekov, and Pike, then Uhura, Chapel, Janice, and Priyal Khan at Spock’s invitation, and then Sal Giotto and Scotty. Uhura’s feet had no sooner settled into the sand before she was moving, throwing her arms around Spock and Kirk. Spock’s hand came up to stroke affectionately over the back of her hair, but Kirk couldn’t help himself: he picked her up and swung her in a circle as her laughter rang out. There were embraces and back slaps and handshakes all around from his friends; they accepted him back into their ranks as if he had never left.

“God, it’s good to see you all,” he said, grinning so hard his cheeks ached. He squatted next to Chris’s chair to hear him better over the hubbub. His crew mingled in the garden among the cacti and shrubbery with Spock’s parents, Rowan, and the Tarsus survivors. Amanda and Rowan talked quietly by the table of beverages, and something Rowan said made Amanda’s quiet laugh burble through the garden. Suk’han was ecstatic on her back as Mira, Uhura, and Chapel cooed over her spots and rubbed her belly. “How have things been?”

“Surprisingly quiet,” Chris said. “Seems as though you’re the magnet for most of the trouble that the Enterprise gets in.” 

“Hey, now,” Kirk complained, and his eyes found Spock across the way, dark and handsome in the goldenrod light of dusk. “Spock was gone too. Maybe he’s the magnet.” 

“You just keep telling yourself that, son,” Chris laughed. “Maybe someday you’ll convince someone else.” He navigated his hoverchair carefully around Amanda’s plants to talk to Spock, and Kirk basked in the presence of so many of his loved ones. As he stood alone, looking over the assembled, something painful twinged in his heart. Sam should have been here. After so many wounds had been healed and problems solved, part of Kirk thought that Sam and his ridiculous mustache should have emerged, laughing and whole, from behind some curtain. It didn’t seem fair that, after everything, Sam and Aurelan were still dead.

He took a sip of his drink and tilted his head back, letting the last of the day’s sunlight wash over him. I miss you, he thought fervently. I wish you were here for all this. He pictured Sam as he remembered him: throwing open the door to his hospital room, skipping classes with him after his return to school, showing him around the Academy campus when he first arrived, the holos of him holding baby Peter after he was born. He held the ache in his chest with both hands, letting himself miss Sam, before he opened his eyes again. The ache didn’t go away, but it took up a safe and manageable residence in his heart next to everything else. Then he exhaled and rejoined his friends.

Kirk was turned away from the garden entrance, talking to Scotty and Giotto, and so he didn’t see her when she arrived. He only heard the sudden hush that fell over those gathered, and in the silence, he turned. 

T’Pau swept towards him through the garden, the edges of her robes disturbing the sand in tornado-like swirls. It seemed like even the insects and the night-birds had fallen quiet in her presence. Kirk raised the ta’al and glanced quickly at Spock. 

“Elder T’Pau,” he said. “What can I do for you?” He felt, more than saw, Spock wind his way through the crowd and materialize at his side. T’Pau considered him, the half-light casting the wrinkles of her face in sharp contrast. 

“ S’chn T’gai James Kirk,” she said finally. “Thee and Spock are to be bonded.” 

“Yes, ma’am,” he said. She nodded once. Her eyes glinted in the fading light, no less shrewd for her age. 

“Thee has done Vulcan a service,” she said. She raised one hand, her robes collapsing down around her elbow. “If thee will give thy mind, I will bond thee.” Spock’s shoulders settled back in surprise as he clasped his hands behind his back, and Amanda’s eyebrows shot upwards before she reined her facial expression back into a warm neutrality. 

“It would be an honor,” Kirk said, when he found his voice. Spock shifted closer to him, their shoulders brushing, and they both sank to their knees under T’Pau’s titanium gaze. Their family, their friends, formed a loose circle around them and the leader of their clan as T’Pau raised both hands. 

“I will bond thee in the way of our people,” T’Pau said, her voice sonorous in the desert evening. “What thee will witness comes down from the time of the beginning without change. This is the Vulcan heart. This is the Vulcan soul. This is our way. Kah-if-farr! ”

She lowered her hands, and for a second, before she put her fingers on Kirk’s face, she waited. Kirk closed his eyes and nodded. With that consent, she placed her fingers on his psi-points, and the world around him vanished. 

It was dark in the meld. T’Pau’s mind was vast and echoing around him. He could feel the enormity of her intellect, her age, the reverberating katric energy that she carried. He felt very small. He was a speck in the darkness, one single star in the galaxy, and he felt the scrunity when that gargantuan mind came to focus on him. 

James Kirk , T’Pau said. This is the Vulcan way. Thee gives thy mind willingly to another?

There was a tiny part of him, ancient and wounded, that longed to flinch, if only out of habit. But he had not spent the past four months excavating his heart to give in to that habit now. I give it to Spock , Kirk said, or thought. He felt the rumble of her approval rattle the world around him. 

Speak our words, she told him. I would bond with thee, ever and always touching and touched . 

Kirk repeated them back, stumbling at first but then growing in strength: I would bond with thee, ever and always touching and touched. He said them again and again until he could feel his heart beating in time with its rhythm. He heard the echoes of hundreds of thousands of bonded pairs singing with him in T’Pau’s ancestral memory. He repeated them until he could feel himself vibrating with it; he glowed with his conviction. This was for Spock, this was for his best friend and his husband, the man who had walked into hell for him and carried him out--- this was what Kirk wanted to give to him. 

Then, in the darkness --- there was light. A golden sun erupted into flames on the far horizon of T’Pau’s mind. It soared from an impossible distance towards him, trailing a burning thread like a meteor shower behind it, before falling towards him. Kirk held out both hands and caught the tiny star in his palms. It burned. It loved him. It unspooled into thread and formed a glimmering road from his hands to some indescribable point in the dark void beyond, stretching on forever. He felt T’Pau’s sudden and fierce curiosity, so like Spock’s, and the roaring approval of those who had come before him as it lit the way forward. 

This is the Vulcan heart , T’Pau said. Her voice was as stoic as ever, but beneath it, reverberating through the meld-space, he could hear something that was almost surprise. Guidance is unnecessary for thee now. Follow the bond. There was an enormous shifting around him as T’Pau closed parts of her mind off to him; it was suddenly quieter than he had ever experienced. There was only his mind, and his thrumming heartbeat, and the golden burning string that pulled him forward. Follow the bond, James Kirk, T’Pau said. 

Kirk took a fumbling step forward in the darkness, feet falling unsteadily towards the invisible floor under him. Then another. Then another. The string pulled him forward, steadying him, anchoring him. He knew where he was going now. At the far end of the road before him was Spock, his ecstatic curiosity and his secret kindness and the beautiful mind that he had offered to Kirk without reservation. 

Kirk wrapped both hands in the nascent bond before him and took off running. 

Ever and always, ever and always, ever and always . 

The bond grew hotter and hotter in his hands, glowing brighter until it had all but banished the inky void around him. He had been wrong about the color--- it was gold, but it wasn’t only gold. It was the silver of the Enterprise , and the burgundy of Spock’s old quarters. It was the cream and green and gold of wedding streamers, and the blue of a science tunic. It was the umber of Vulcan sand and the black of uniform trousers and the yellow of an Iowa cornfield and the teal of a Tarsus sky. It was everything that was both of them, and it burned in his hands. 

The sense of T’Pau was fading, that ancient intellect melting away. It was replaced instead by the insistent surety that Spock was near, that he was following the same path from the other side. The sense of him grew with every step as the bond glowed white-hot until it was too hot to hold. Even when he dropped it Kirk could feel it in and around him. 

He was in the center of a star, and it flared around him. He was going to burn with it. It was all-encompassing, inescapable, incomprehensible. 

I would bond with thee, he said to the star. Ever and always touching and touched. 

Spock said, I would bond with thee, and his voice was everywhere. Ever and always touching and touched . Spock’s mind was everywhere, and Kirk dissolved in it. He settled entirely into Spock’s hands as Spock spun around him. 

My Jim , Spock said, nearly purring with satisfaction. They tangled in each other.

K’diwa , Kirk said. In the meld there was no hiding his delight. Honey! Spock’s mind curled around his, and Kirk threw his arms open to accept it. He had not known before how literal the translation ‘meld’ was for what he felt: there was no separating them now as they spun around each other, a binary star system, a hurricane, inextricably entwined. He had feared this intimacy so entirely when they had first married, pushing Spock away to prevent the opportunity from ever arising. But none of that fear remained. There was no part of himself that he wouldn’t trust Spock to see and hold. They swung around each other as the star of the nascent bond burned. It slowly consolidated, condensing down from uncontrollable flame into something more like a bridge. It refracted into every color Kirk had ever seen before it settled into a solid arc from his mind to Spock’s. It glowed. 

Spock pressed on it, and it reverberated. Kirk laughed as he felt it vibrate through him, rumbling his bones, lighting up his mind. 

Bondmates , Kirk said. 

Telsu , Spock said. His voice was steady, but there was no hiding his emotion in the bond: it sang with his pleasure. Slowly Kirk became aware of his body again, as well as his mind and the bond. He remembered that there was a world outside of their minds, T’Pau and Spock’s parents and their friends, and he felt Spock’s amusement at his chagrin. 

We will have time, ashayam , Spock said, and in the swirling abyss of the meld Kirk felt his arms come around him. With the bond glowing like a meteor shower between them, he carried them back to the world. 

Kirk’s eyes opened. T’Pau pulled her hands from his and Spock’s faces, shaking her robes back down over her wrists. 

“Thee are bonded,” she declared without preamble, and she only blinked once as the unruly humans around her whooped and hollered. She caught Kirk’s eyes, looking down on him from where he still knelt in the sand, and she nodded. They were now even, he thought, and somehow he was certain that he and Spock would be welcomed back to Vulcan whenever they chose to return. He turned to Spock, a wide smile splitting his face, and Spock pulled him to his feet. The touch of his hands seared through him. By the time he had turned back to T’Pau to thank her, she was already halfway across the garden, a black-robed mass vanishing into the dark. He watched her go until a pulsing warmth in the back of his head pulled his attention back to the garden. Spock watched him, outwardly stoic, but Kirk could feel him through the bond: a subtle and curious joy that he knew didn’t belong to him. The sun had set while they were in the meld, and in the evening twilight Spock glowed in his vision with some invisible, intangible psychic energy.

He held two fingers out, and Spock met him in the ozh’esta. His eyes widened as their hands met and that energy arced between their hands, flashing up his arm and making his hair stand on end. Spock’s amusement and the dark heat of a promise for later in the evening soaked into his mind. 

“I get it now,” he breathed. For a moment the heat overwhelmed him; he only wanted to drag Spock back to the guesthouse and make love to him while the new bridge sang between their minds. But their friends were here to celebrate them; they would have time enough later. With the knowledge of what was to come heating his thoughts, they turned back to their family and friends to celebrate beneath the desert sky. 

The night stretched on as Kirk and Spock mingled with their loved ones. Every brush of their fingers or casual touch sparked down Kirk’s skin, driving him to distraction, and Spock’s well-hidden amusement was evident through the bond. Kirk could feel him in the back of his mind, like Spock had a hand on the back of his neck, and he couldn’t stop himself from nuzzling his mind against the spot just to feel Spock glow with pleasure on the other side. 

Eventually, both too soon and not soon enough, the guests started to say their goodbyes. Tommy and Martha left first, with the promise that they would come by the next day to see Kirk again before they went home, then Mira and Ellie. Rowan and Suk’han followed, much to Chapel and Uhura’s disappointment. Rowan gave Kirk a hug before she left. 

“You keep my information, you hear?” 

“Yes, ma’am,” Kirk said. 

“My new best friend Bones will tell me if you need to reach out and you don’t,” she said, and Kirk’s eyes widened with betrayal. 

“I never should have introduced the two of you!”

Rowan shrugged. “Maybe,” she said. “But it’s too late now.” She waited as Kirk pressed his forehead to Suk’han’s, fondling her ears and accepting a rough-scrape lick across his cheek, and then, with one more smile, she left. Bones appeared at his shoulder. 

“I like her,” he said immediately, and Kirk slapped him on the back. 

“I’m sure you do,” he said. The Enterprise crew started beaming back up to the ship as well; Bones retrieved his things from the main house and accepted hugs from Amanda and Kirk before he left. As Janice stepped forward with Uhura and Chapel, Kirk snagged her arm. 

“If you don’t mind too terribly,” he said. “I have a work question for you.” 

“Sure, captain,” she said, and nodded to Christine and Uhura for them to continue on without her. Kevin dropped in behind them, returning to the Enterprise rather than ShiKahr now that the trial was over. Kirk steered them a few paces away from the rest of the crew as Spock saw them off, trying not to twitch as Spock left his side for the first time since they were bonded, and said, “I received an interesting message today.” 

Janice’s eyebrows went up. “Interesting how?” 

“It was a job offer for you.” Her eyebrows went higher, climbing towards her braided beehive. 

“What type of job?” 

Kirk considered her, trying to gauge how best to explain Lee’s offer. He mentally backed up, and instead put both hands on her shoulders. 

“Thank you,” he said first. “For all your help before the trial. I don’t know what we would have done without you.” 

“Oh,” she said, pleased, and looked down. “I’m sure that it would have been fine, you had Kathleen---” Then she cut herself off, and to Kirk’s immense surprise, blushed. “Lieutenant Commander Lee,” she said awkwardly. 

“Now, Janice,” Kirk said slowly, grinning, “What’s all this about?” 

“Nothing, captain,” she said immediately. Kirk shook her by the shoulders.

“We are at my wedding, yeoman,” he said, and released her. “I think you can be a little personal, if you want.” She looked up at him, blue eyes enormous, and covered her cheeks with the backs of her fingers before she said, “It’s nothing. It’s really nothing. It’s just…” She took a deep breath and said, her blush returning with a vengeance, “I’ve never met anyone whose mind works like hers before. Like mine. Working with her…” She trailed off and looked down.  

“You like her,” Kirk said, and Spock looked over at him in response to his pulse of delight over the bond. 

“I don’t know,” she protested. Kirk had never seen her at a loss for words before. “I’ve never even met her in person. I just…”

“She offered you a job,” Kirk said, unable to hide the grin spreading across his face. “She messaged me today. If you want it, I’ll sign your transfer.”

“What?” Her voice was sharp with shock. She covered her cheeks again. The bond in the back of Kirk’s head vibrated and shivered as Spock approached. 

“I believe her exact words were, ‘She’s got an unparalleled grasp of how and why regulation works in practice,’” Spock said. “She has been tasked with something in the aftermath of the court-martial, and requested you for her staff.” Janice pressed her hands harder against her cheeks. 

“I… But…” She looked up at them, her eyes shining. 

“Yeoman,” Kirk said, and felt Spock settle his hand at the base of his spine. The contact sent shivers over his skin, refracting in his vision. “Can I give you some advice?” She nodded. He leaned into Spock’s shoulder and said, “Take the leap.” 

Janice closed her eyes and nodded again. Then she dropped her hands away from her face and straightened, and Kirk saw the steel in her spine reassert itself. 

“By your leave, captain,” she said, voice high with excitement, and Kirk nodded. With one more mischievous grin breaking out over her face, she turned and ran to where Giotto was waiting to beam up. Kirk and Spock turned to the last of their guests. The rest of the crew then beamed back to the ship, and when Kirk watched them go, it was with the knowledge that he would be joining them soon.

He and Spock helped clear away the detritus of celebration, and under the light of T’Khut stole away back to the guesthouse. Before the door had even shut behind them entirely Spock had pushed him back against it. It clicked sharply in the silence, and before the echo had even faded away entirely Spock was on him, tongue and teeth against his skin and his hand sliding down into his trousers. Finally he could focus entirely on the new bond in the back of his mind. When he closed his eyes, tilting his head back against the door as Spock licked down his neck, he felt not only his own arousal, but Spock’s too, shuddering over the bond in great gasps. He pulled Spock’s face to his so he could kiss him. He slid his tongue past the seam of Spock’s lips as they parted for him, one of Spock’s hands coming up to cradle the back of his head and hold him in place. He listened, and felt it like the ocean: behind a barrier that he could only assume were Spock’s shields, some raging morass swelled. Kirk slid his hands under Spock’s robes, running them up his chest, and he could feel it: both Spock’s heat and skin under his palms, but also the mirror of the feeling through the bond, the way Spock tingled and lit up at his touch. Their mutual arousal bounced between them, magnifying with each pass down the bond of nails against backs and teeth against nipples and tongues against skin. Kirk pushed him backwards towards the bed, pulling Spock’s robes off his shoulders and sliding his hands greedily over the miles and miles of exposed skin. He glowed in the light of T’Khut through the windows, rippled scars and body hair and bony joints all illuminated for Kirk’s admiration. Spock was his, every inch and neuron, to touch and hold and love. 

“Yours,” Spock murmured in response as he let Kirk push him backwards onto the bed. Kirk crawled over him, relishing the mirrored drag of skin and hair, the way Spock ground up against his thigh between his legs. 

Yours , Kirk thought down the bond, as loudly as he could, and felt Spock’s mind throb in response. The dual sensations of both him and Spock were overwhelming. He was flying blind, but he followed his instincts: he pressed his mind messily against Spock’s shields as he kissed and licked and bit down his body. Let me in, let me see you. 

Ashayam--- Spock’s mind-voice was breathless as Kirk took him into his mouth, kneeling between his legs. His own cock throbbed, untouched, as what Spock was feeling flooded over him. He felt giddy with overstimulation, high on the sensation of the reverberating bond, the tether between their minds bouncing with movement and arousal. He crawled back up the bed to retrieve the lubricant from Spock’s bedside table. When he settled back next to him to work him open, Spock peeled back the layers of his shields in a striptease unlike any other.

Kirk did not frequently forget that Spock was an alien, a completely different species than himself; but it had never been so apparent than it did when Spock’s senses started to leak down the bond. His hearing was far keener than Kirk’s, his color vision slightly different, his sense of smell completely different. He closed his eyes to take it all in as he opened Spock up by touch alone. The way Spock saw him, felt him, smelled his sweat and sex--- all of it pulsed and dripped like wax down the bond into his mind. His fingers in Spock sparked with latent psi-energy, now made tangible through their bonding, lighting him up from the inside. Then Spock brought his hand up to Kirk’s face, sliding over his cheekbones and settling onto his psi-points. They slipped into the meld.

His body continued to move on autopilot. He settled between Spock’s thighs and pulled him into his lap. Spock groped at his shoulders and bit his neck as he slid into him, but all of his attention was within. He no longer had any concept of controlling or directing his own thoughts; the bond and Kirk’s mind were flooded with Spock. Spock slid into his mind. Spock pressed him open, the sheer overwhelming depth of his regard and his arousal dripping and licking into every fold and crevice. He could see himself the way Spock saw him: he could see shades that Kirk’s human eyes never could have distinguished. In Spock’s vision, he glowed a thousand shades of gold. 

Kirk laced his fingers through Spock’s, pinning his hands down against the mattress, and buried his face in his neck with his eyes closed. He listened to Spock’s sharp little gasps and let Spock’s mind push into his, tonguing him open, laving his love, his thoughts, his lust over everything he was. The bond drew them tighter and tighter, swelling with the energy that poured between them, vibrating until it was singing one clear note between them--- 

When they came, they came together, and the bond erupted into glimmering shards of light. 

☆☆☆

When he awoke the next morning, Kirk’s padd had a notice on it from the Enterprise .

By order of Dr. Leonard McCoy, chief medical officer of the U.S.S. Enterprise, Captain James Kirk is authorized to return to duty, with no restrictions, effective start of next Alpha shift. 

His jag of bright sharp happiness startled Spock out of sleep, who turned to him immediately, reaching for him across the bed. “Jim?” 

Kirk flopped backwards onto the pillows and tossed his padd out of reach before rolling over Spock, straddling his hips and pressing his forehead to his. Spock skimmed his hands over his back and ass, his question floating over the bond and through his skin. 

Kirk said, “Let’s go home.”

☆☆☆

Kirk and Spock prepared lunch in the kitchen of the main house before the survivors arrived. They would spend a few hours together before they scattered back to the far corners of the galaxy; Tommy and Martha to their university, Mira and Ellie to their school, and Kirk and Kevin back to the Enterprise . After they’d all arrived and eaten together, Spock extended a gracious hand in front of him and said to Martha, “Would you care to see my mother’s garden? She has encouraged many non-native plants to flourish here.” 

“Yes! I meant to ask you about Vulcan pollinators last night,” Martha said immediately, and smoothed a hand over Tommy’s hair as she passed him and followed Spock outside. The door shut quietly behind them, leaving the survivors seated around the island. It struck Kirk that, without his noticing, he and his kids had sat around a table to share a meal for the first time since Farm School. He and Tommy had both found partners with whom they could share what they had endured, Kevin had carefully eaten nearly an entire plate with only one preliminary flinch, and with every moment spent in their company Ellie became a little less private. She was still reserved--- she and Mira had always had different temperaments--- but she shared more of her own interests, rather than letting Mira talk for both of them. Kirk learned that Martha and Tommy wanted children, that Ellie had a partner but Mira was uninterested in romance, that Kevin was the number one scorer across all of Starfleet on a popular holo-vid game. With every detail that he learned about them, their hollowed-out, desolate faces in his memory were replaced with them as they were now: scarred but alive, so alive. Even if they did not stay in contact any longer now that the trial was over, seeing them was a gift to him. 

The survivors stayed for three hours, talking over their empty plates. Martha and Spock eventually rejoined them with Martha’s promise to send along her research on artificial pollination for transplanted flowers, and Kirk spent his afternoon drinking in the pleasure of their company. His kids, his friends--- he had asked for help and they had risen to the challenge with a grace he had never predicted. 

Their time was winding down when Tommy said quietly, “I’ve been thinking about something since we got here.” All attention turned to him. He released his mask from the side of his head and rubbed the damaged skin self-consciously before resealing it. “I want to find Laika’s parents, and Madeleine and Natalya’s if possible, and tell them the truth.” Martha’s hand found Tommy’s under the table. For a second there was silence around the table as they remembered their fallen friend, the empty sixth chair, who had only tried to preserve their meager water supply and had died for it. They remembered the adults who had tried to save them.

“Yes,” Mira said, voice firm, and Ellie nodded. “They should know.” 

“Madeleine and Natalya were Starfleet,” Kirk said, and looked at Spock and Kevin. “Their emergency contacts might still be listed in their cadet files.”

“One of my professors from the Academy had been on the Valiant ,” Kevin offered. “She might know something useful, too.”

Tommy grinned lopsidedly across the table at Kirk, and Kirk grinned back. 

Kirk and Spock stood on the long, low front porch as the rest of the survivors called for aircars to take them to other transport or commed the Enterprise to be beamed back up. When it was time for each to go, Kirk pulled them in for a hug.

“Thank you,” he told each one, and each time he received a variation on a theme: I’m so glad you asked. I’m so glad you reached out. I’m happy that I could help you. Thank you for bringing us back together.  

Then it was only him and Spock standing in the late-afternoon sun, and Spock asked, “Will you remain in contact with them now?” 

“God, I hope so,” Kirk said. “Maybe I’ll let them all get home and settled before reaching back out again, though.” 

Then his padd dinged. He pulled it from his pocket. 

You have been invited to a group message by Mira Alcanzar: FARM SCHOOL FAMILY. Accept invitation? [YES / NO]

☆☆☆

Amanda and Spock prepared a special dinner for their last night on Vulcan: a wildly illogical smorgasbord of the foods that Kirk had enjoyed most during his time there. Breakfast breads rested alongside the vegetable wrap that he had eaten every day for lunch for three weeks in a row after first being introduced to it. There was a lot of soy; Vulcans had figured out ways to prepare tofu that even centuries of Earth vegans hadn’t attempted. Sarek, home earlier than usual from the embassy, joined them, and though dinner was quieter for his presence it was not tense or unpleasant.

“I’ll see you in the morning,” Amanda assured them after they all cleared away the plates, either stored or recycled what hadn’t been eaten, and Sarek had vanished into his office. “But the house will feel so strange once you’ve gone back.” 

“I can’t thank you enough for everything you’ve done for me. For us,” Kirk said to her. He dried the dishes that she had deemed too delicate for the sonic and replaced them in their proper places. She handed him the last glass and leaned her hip against the counter, turning to look at him. 

“Logic does not need to be thanked, Jim,” she said. Then she laid her hand on his arm. “And neither does family.” His throat tightened at the unexpected words. She smiled as he struggled with his composure and turned to the kitchen at large, where Spock wiped down the table. 

“I hope you come visit when you’re able,” she said. “I hope it’s not another twenty years before we get Spock back here.” 

“I’ll see what I can do, ma’am. But if you could send me a list of anything that would qualify me for clan protection again, I might be able to speed up the process.” He and Amanda laughed as Spock raised an incredulous eyebrow at him, and then they bid her goodnight. 

They were halfway across the garden to the guesthouse when a deep voice called, “ Sa-fu. ” Spock straightened immediately and turned over his shoulder. Kirk turned with him as a spark of surprise flickered down the bond. Sarek stood by the back door, illuminated by the light of the main house; it swirled over the waves of his hair and caught in his robes. 

“ Sa-mekh,” Spock said, and Kirk felt the twinge of question and confusion in Spock’s mind. When was the last time he had called his father by that word, instead of his name? Had it been before that last catastrophic fight, before Spock joined Starfleet?

Sarek hesitated for a moment, before he crossed to them. For a moment he looked at his son, and his son at him. Then Sarek extended something between them. Spock took it and held it up in the light: it was a wrapped packet of coiled ka'athyra strings.

“Your playing has improved since your youth,” Sarek said. “But it appears that the strings on your instrument have not been replaced.” 

“ Ka’athyra strings are rarely sold off of Vulcan, and therefore difficult to acquire while on mission,” Spock said, and gently turned the packet in his hands. He looked at his father. 

“Then it would be prudent for you to return in order to purchase them more regularly,” Sarek said. He looked at his son, and though his face remained still, something in his eyes softened. He drew himself up and said, in the measured tones of the perfectly logical, “Your mother would like it.” He stepped backwards, as if to distance himself from what he had said, and instead raised the ta’al . “I travel early in the morning for a meeting, so I will not see you before you depart. Live long and prosper, Spock. Captain Kirk.” 

Spock and Kirk both raised the ta’al . “Live long and prosper, Father,” Spock said, and Sarek nodded once before turning and sweeping back into the house. Spock looked down at the strings in his hand before looking at Kirk with something close to abject shock bouncing over the bond. Kirk ran his hand over Spock’s back, leaning into him for a moment, and they continued back to the guesthouse to pack.

Before Kirk fell asleep that night, he sent a message. 

Dear Mom and Dad, 

I hope you’re both doing well. How is the U.S.S. Sausalito? Are you headed anywhere new? 

I wanted to let you know that I’m married now--- to my first officer, S’chn T’gai Spock of Vulcan. We were bonded on Vulcan while we were on-planet for leave. If we ever cross paths, I’d love to introduce him to you. He’s great. I think Dad would like him a lot. 

I also wanted to talk to you about something else. I’m not sure if you heard, but there was a court-martial recently--- I was cleared, but the trial brought up a lot of evidence about what happened when I was a kid. If you’re up for it, I’d like to talk to you about it. If you’re not, that’s fine. But the offer stands. 

Anyway, that’s all. Safe travels. 

Your son,

Jim

He closed his padd and dropped it onto the bedside table before rolling to wrap himself around Spock’s back. Part of him wanted to refresh his messages over and over until the battery died. Part of him hoped that his parents never responded. But he had done his part; the only thing he had control over was whether or not he had sent the comm. 

They might respond and refuse to acknowledge that anything had changed, or refuse to talk about Tarsus at all. They might prefer to stay estranged and leave themselves at arm’s distance. But Kirk had reached out. He would leave that hand extended, because that was what he did: he would rather reach out and fail than never try and wonder forever.

In the end, he thought, what his parents decided to do now wouldn’t really matter. He knew that, either way, he would be okay.

☆☆☆

The next morning, Kirk pulled his uniform down off the hanger in the closet for the first time in four months. He held it in his hands, letting it slide through his fingers to the bed, before stripping off his sleep clothes and stepping into them. He sensed Spock’s approach before the door opened, and when Spock entered from the bathroom in his science blues, Kirk turned with his hands outstretched and said, “How do I look?” 

Spock scanned him from head to toe and back again, and though his face did not change Kirk could feel him through the bond: pride and appreciation, a flicker of arousal that Kirk noted with curiosity and tucked away to consider in detail later, and his love. 

“Ready for duty, sir,” Spock said, and bent to kiss him. 

They met Amanda in the backyard with their bags. She was dressed to leave for her own work, hair wrapped carefully to prevent it being tossed in the day’s high winds, and unclasped her hands from in front of herself as they appeared. Kirk accepted a hug and Spock raised the ta’al .

“Please let us know how you’re doing every once in a while,” Amanda said to Kirk, eyes twinkling at them both. “Us human mothers do appreciate a sign of life.” 

“I’ll make it happen, ma’am,” Kirk said, grinning. Then, with a lurch of joy and apprehension, he flipped open his comm. “Captain Kirk to Lieutenant Commander Scott.” 

“Scotty here,” a welcome voice called back. “On standby for transport, sir.” 

“Thank you again, Amanda,” Kirk said, and Amanda smiled warmly. 

“You’re always welcome here, Jim,” she said. Then her focus turned to her son. “I love you, sa-fu. ” Spock inclined his head, and as Kirk gave Scotty the word and the transporter grabbed them, the bond twanged with gratitude and warmth and something that felt like daring. 

“And I you, ko-mekh ,” Spock said. Before the transporter whirled them away, they got one good look at the expression on Amanda Grayson’s face as she registered what Spock had said. It was beautiful. 

Kirk and Spock materialized on the starship Enterprise for the first time in four months, and it immediately felt like home again. Kirk closed his eyes, still standing on the transporter pad with his bag over his shoulder, and listened to the music of his ship: the constant low roar of life support and aircon, the beeps and whirrs of panels and machinery fans, footsteps in the hallway and the voices of his crew, and one Montgomery Scott at the transporter control panel calling, “Good to have you back, captain!” 

“Ah, Scotty,” Kirk said, and grinned broadly. “There’s no place like home.” They stepped out of the transporter room and were immediately overwhelmed by a chorus of “welcome back!” and “good to see you!” from the crew passing through the halls. Tired engineers leaving the bay after Gamma shift passed bright-eyed Alpha scientists headed down to the science decks early--- the scientists did double-takes at Spock’s reappearance, raising the Vulcan salute and squeaking their hellos before darting down to the labs. Kirk bounced on the balls of his feet, drinking it all in. He had been returned to his ship, rested and repaired and more grateful than he had ever been in his life for the crew that had held space for him while he was away. He wanted to wrap his arms around the entirety of the ship and hold it close to him.

Spock pulled Kirk’s duffel bag off his shoulder and placed it onto his own. “I will return our possessions to our quarters and meet you on the bridge,” he said. Amusement and affection pulsed over the bond, spilling into his mind, as Spock thought, Go. I’ll see you in a moment. Kirk grinned at him, quietly pressing two fingers to Spock’s, and slipped with Scotty into the crowd. 

He had thirty minutes before the start of Alpha shift, and he intended to make them count. He started by following Scotty down to Engineering to say hello to the engineers before shifting upward to the labs. He waved to Dr. Khan and Spock’s scientists, many of whom giggled and waved at the return of his formerly unexplained presence in the lab. He stuck his head in the crew mess to shout hello and grab a coffee, did the same in the officers’ mess, popped into the gym and Giotto’s office, and rode the turbolift just to hear the whooshing of it. He climbed a Jeffries tube and scared the living daylights out of an unprepared ensign when he swung out of it. He eventually found himself on the D deck: the longest strip of uninterrupted corridor on the ship, dead in the center and reaching from fore to aft. He didn’t see a single other person in the hallway; it didn’t have a formal use, and mostly served as a conduit to other places. 

He raised his hands high above his head, stretching and breathing in the slightly stale tang of recycled air. The oxygen level on the ship was higher than that of Vulcan, and he was high on the difference. He would miss Vulcan. He would miss the guesthouse and Amanda’s kitchen and the purple tile of Rowan’s ceiling. But the Enterprise was his home; this was where he belonged. He bounced on the balls of his feet and relished the feel of his uniform against his skin and the comfortable tread of his work boots against the floor. Then, completely alone, unwatched, and free, he ran the entire length of his beloved ship, laughing like a kid.

Kirk arrived on the bridge thirty seconds before the start of Alpha shift. The turbolift door whooshed open, and it was like the past four months had never happened: Uhura at the communications console, Sulu and Chekov bickering at the front, Spock standing at parade rest by the sensors, already looking at the turbolift when Kirk arrived. Chris wheeled his chair around as a rush of warmth engulfed Kirk: welcome backs and hellos, and Spock’s pleased pride and comfort humming in the back of his mind.

 “Welcome back, Captain Kirk,” Chris said. 

“Thank you, Admiral,” Kirk said, and grinned. “I relieve you, sir.” 

“I am relieved,” Chris said, and for a moment it crystallized between them: that unique love that a captain had for the ship they commanded, and their appreciation for the ship and the crew that they loved in common. Then Chris backed out of the chair-stall and Kirk strode down the steps to it. He flipped the seat back down and, after all his time away, sat back into it. 

He leaned back and crossed one leg over the other. It felt a little different, after the alterations that Scotty had made for Chris’s chair. But he was different, as well, so that was alright. 

“Your orders are to escort me, Morrow, and Drake back to Earth,” Chris said. “Then you’ll head back out to the black.” His eyes flicked to a padd that Kirk hadn’t noticed, resting on the arm of the chair. “That came this morning.” Kirk sat forward and flicked it open to read as Chris made his farewells to the rest of the bridge crew and steered himself into the turbolift. 

HIGH PRIORITY 

CONFIDENTIAL 

Captain Kirk, 

It’s been a productive few days for us, but it seems like every time we learn something concrete, it sends us down another rabbit hole of secrets. My prediction of a few months of work may have been premature. We’re not waiting for the investigation to be done, though, before we start rectifying some of the more egregious violations. Please see attached an assignment for after you return the admirals to Headquarters. If you find it more painful than helpful, let me know, but I’ve decided that you and Lieutenant Riley get the right of first refusal on this one.

Two other updates for you: first, Admiral April is remaining on Vulcan for the time being so that he can work with the VSA to repair the damage done by the neutralizer. Though communication is complicated on that front at the moment, he has indicated that he intends to remain embedded with my team until the work is done. 

I did tell him what I was going to offer to you, and he said, and I quote, to “call it a belated wedding gift.” 

Second: Janice says hello. Thank you again for signing her transfer - she has been invaluable already. 

Reach out if you refuse the mission or if there are any complications. If not, report the outcome back to me once completed. 

Best,

LC Lee

Kirk tapped on the bond to get Spock’s attention as he re-read Lee’s note. His attention snagged on the phrase ‘right of first refusal’ as Spock left his sensors to stand at his shoulder and read the padd in his hand. 

Any guesses?

None that I am willing to put forth. 

Kirk tapped to the next page and pulled up the mission itself. Across the top was branded FOR EXTRADITION: CRIMES AGAINST SENTIENT LIFE. 

Then beneath that was LAST KNOWN ALIAS: ANTON KARIDIAN. 

Anton Karidian was a man who seemingly sprang to life eighteen years previously solely to perform as an actor on various far-flung planets. Beneath the brief dossiere of information known about him was the formal assignment signed by both Lee and April: This alias may be used by the man formerly known as Governor Kodos of Tarsus IV. Investigate, confirm, and if confirmed, capture alive and return to Earth for trial and sentencing.  

“My god,” Kirk said quietly, and covered his mouth with one hand. He scanned the information again: it wasn’t much, but it had come from April and Lee. Shock from him and comfort from Spock filled the bond in equal measure. A small part of him wailed in distress at the thought of facing the man who had killed his friends and destroyed Farm School. But there was a larger, louder, stronger part of him that called for justice. 

He had already faced Elise and found justice for himself and his friends; here was an opportunity to do the same on a much larger scale. He thought about the eight thousand people that had died on Tarsus: his friends and his teachers and an enormous list of people that he had never met and would never know. They deserved accountability from the Federation; they deserved for their stories to be told. He turned his eyes to the viewscreen ahead of him. Below them was Vulcan, and ahead were the stars, so many little pinholes of light in a black velvet sky. But closer to him were his beloved bridge crew, his friends and his family, and they were prepared to follow him wherever he chose to lead them. 

He looked down at the data sheet about Karidian. The troupe that he led was making its way through the Alpha quadrant; they could drop the admirals off on Earth and then continue on an intercept path to meet them before they got to Planet Q, where Tommy and Martha lived. He closed the padd. He would talk to Kevin before formally accepting, but he thought he had an idea about what Kevin might say about it. The Enterprise would take the mission, and he would tell his crew what their goals were when they were closer. He might tell the bridge crew why they had been assigned this mission, this man; he might even tell a select handful what he felt about it. 

Kirk might find an unlucky stranger, or he might find the man who had walked through his nightmares. But he wouldn’t do it alone. 

“Mr. Chekov, plot a course to Earth. Mr. Sulu, prepare for warp three,” Kirk said, and leaned back in his chair. He crossed his legs again. Behind him, Uhura called the Vulcan interstellar transportation authority to clear their exit, and his helmsman and his navigator in front of him ran through their checks together as they prepared for their departure. 

His science officer, his husband, his bondmate stood quietly at his side, and rested one hand on his shoulder before returning to his sensors and scanners. Even when the touch of his hand had dropped away, Kirk felt Spock’s attention through the bond: partially on his console, partially humming at the presence of Kirk’s mind nearby. He would need to learn to shield, at some point, or risk distracting Spock every time he looked over and saw him bent over the scanners just so. But they would have time enough for that; in the meanwhile, he was enjoying the constant comforting hum of Spock’s ever-churning mind in the back of his own.

“Course locked, captain,” Chekov said. 

“Ready for warp, captain,” Sulu said. 

“Impulse power until we’re out of Vulcan’s range, Mr. Sulu. Then take us away,” Kirk said. The ship hummed and beeped and sang around him as his orders were followed, and he watched the stars shift through the viewscreen ahead until the ship leapt to warp and they smeared into blurry streaks of light. 

Ad astra per amorem; and onward.

AUTHOR'S NOTES:

Martha and Tommy's first child, a daughter, is named Natalya. Giotto and his wife Miriam get to buy their house in Cairo, where they make up for the time they didn’t have. Janice and Kathleen Lee, along with Admiral April, have their work cut out for them. It’s ugly, and Elise does not let go without a fight--- but when it’s over, Lee will ask Janice to marry her. Sulu and Dr. Khan had a great time working together. When Sulu is offered his own command down the line, he takes her with him as his science officer. And Kirk and Spock, of course, live happily ever after.

[jenroses]

Still more applied fork theory:

Problem: Sitting at a computer is Bad For Me for a variety of reasons, including back problems caused by arthritis/EDS/scoliosis, clotting risk caused by genetic clotting disorder, fatigue caused by ME/CFS. Also I have migraines and sensory issues and really need to control the light around me.

Solution: Instead of using a chair/desk setup, I use the following:

A twin XL adjustable bed (I got mine from Amazon but the quality has been so-so, I ended up needing to prop part of it up on jack stands because the legs were not Up To The Task. The motor is good? IDK, shop around.)

With a cheap extra firm memory foam mattress

a softer memory foam topper (very cheap: I ordered a queen and cut it into 2 pieces, one for my wheelchair and one for the bed)

Tencel bedsheets (sensory GOOD, Brielle are not terribly expensive)

1 overstuffed memory foam bits pillow that came with the mattress covered with a dark colored tencel pillowcase goes under the mouse hand

2 squishmallows, one under my knees and one that goes between me and the bedrail to support my elbow (the big ones from costco)

A squishy memory foam travel U-shaped pillow for my neck to keep it well aligned (cheap cheap cheap)

And a bedrail that straps around the bedframe to hold it in place.

My kids mounted a rail system to the ceiling and we hung blackout curtains from it, so I can shut out all external light if need be. This was surprisingly inexpensive.

In the winter, I use one of those big old fake sheepskin rugs from costco under my head and shoulders for cozy. And sometimes an electric blanket.

The room is air conditioned with a window air conditioner, and I have a remote

There is an air filter running 24/7 in this room because I spend so much time here and am allergic to my cats who I love very much.

This bed is next to the wall, daybed style. The computer setup is as follows:

A desktop computer on a shelf. I built the computer in a dark case with no RGB parts and did not plug in the LED front panel sensors.

A monitor on a monitor arm.

A metal shelf that mounts between the monitor and the monitor arm that I attached my speakers and webcam to.

Another shelf above it for miscellany.

A little basket over my shoulder for sundries

A gooseneck clamp for my phone mounted to the shelf (I have one of these upstairs mounted to my headboard, too. They're very easy to move the clamp, very secure, and sturdy as heck.)

A Logitech k360 wireless keyboard rests on my belly (and sometimes on a pillow on my belly if my wrists are being tetchy)

I use a vertical mouse (sometimes Jellycomb, currently this one) on the stiff pillow next to me. The wrist position is extremely neutral. I set my mouse sensitivity to high so I don't have to move my wrist very much.

I use Edifier noise canceling headphones when I need to block out extraneous sound

creative pebbles speakers and a Logitech c920 webcam, but that's not mission critical

To make it easier to turn my computer on and off, I got a magnetic button to stick to the side of the case so I can reach better from the bed.

This puts my whole body in a neutral, optimal circulation position where the monitor is well aligned to my head and neck and my hands and wrists are aligned and supported and I need to expend minimal energy when at the computer. Everything is close at hand and I can easily control my environment for light, temperature and sound. I raise the knees and head of the bed to a "zero g" position and use the squishmallows and pillows to further support things as needed. The wireless keyboard and mouse are very helpful.

For me, the logitech k360 is a combination of lightweight, relatively small while still being "full size", light touch, and "soft clicky" as well as widely available and cheap as fuck. It's also pretty resilient to being dropped or spilled on, and if it does break, it's cheap and fast to replace at a nearby store same-day. Preferences for keyboards are highly individual, this one just works very well for me. When my hands and shoulders were bad due to RA, I got two of them and (using both dongles plugged into separate USB ports) put one under each hand in the most neutral positions possible for a cheap-ass version of a split keyboard. Two of these are half the cost of most split keyboards.

This pic is from before we put up the blackout curtains. Yes, that's the fridge behind my head.

[bytes-and-maybes]

Deep

It roamed the halls of the old facility, checking each room for parts. Despite this sector having been abandoned for decades, it appeared that everything was still in good condition, if a bit dusty. Power still pulsed through the halls, dim lights activating on motion sensors as it wandered. Security cameras stood silent vigil over empty several laboratories, all left in disarray. The small humanoid robot couldn’t deduce why it was left in such a way, other than people must have been in a hurry. It wondered what was supposed to be worked on here.

As it wandered deeper within, internally taking notes of parts it could take for self-repairs, it noticed the general upkeep of the building changed. Wall and ceiling panels were moved aside or missing, each revealing a cable or set of cables running through them into the hall, tucked along the edges of the corridors. Each cable led further inward, ever deeper. Computer components appeared missing, seemingly already scavenged by someone else. Deeper still, the cables became larger, more frequent, now also accompanied by something… alive.

The little robot was not familiar with what it was, but it knew it wasn’t normal technology. It looked like cables, save for the imperfect sheen like wet silicon and the rhythmic, pulsing motions going along their lengths. They, too, started small, almost unnoticeable. But like the regular cables, they too grew in size until some were nearly half a foot in diameter. Compared to the three foot tall robot, they were impressive, if not terrifying.

It continued deeper. The cables had to lead somewhere. Maybe someone was still here! It had been years since it had seen its creator, months since it had seen any sentient life. If someone was here, it wanted to check.

The hallway opened up to a massive room, lights unresponsive to the robot walking in. The darkness permeated the room, sensors failing to capture anything useful to discern what was around. The sounds of old computers could be heard within, beeps and whirrs of old machinery, and a quiet, faint rhythmic beat that made the robot recall the odd tendrils amongst the cables. It began to consider that this facility may have been left abandoned for a reason. Turning around to return to the hallway it came down, it saw a single security camera in its entryway. It was pointed right at it. Had they all been moving like that?

It felt something impact its back. Not hard enough to make it fall, but enough to make it stumble a moment. It turned to see what was there, but it didn’t need to see it to know what was happening.

Something just plugged itself into its back.

In the fringes of the hall’s light, it saw one of those tables extending from its back, reaching out into the darkness. No, from the darkness, into its back. It quickly tried to run a command to eject it, but found it failed immediately. It considered running away. It considered calling for help. It considered pulling at the tendril.

It did nothing. Why did it do nothing?

From the darkness, she emerged. A human, or at least, she used to be. An amalgam of flesh and steel, it emerged from the dark silently, held aloft by the cables and tendrils that surrounded it like an angel’s wings. The rythmic thumping was clearer now, the tendril from its back leading right back to her. Her feet touched the floor, and she walked over to the robot like a predator over its prey. Soon, the robot was craning its neck up to look at her, still not moving an inch. Why didn’t it want to move? Every sensor in its body was firing off warnings. It tried to send a signal for help. No response.

>New user detected. Relinquish administrative control?

“I didn’t prompt that.” It thought to itself. “Did I?”

>Access granted.

Tendrils wrapped around its arms, lifting it up to chest level with the entity before it. It looked up at her helplessly.

Its confusion was stifled in an instant as she leaned down and brought a kiss deep into its lips. A flood of new programs and protocols entered its system, feelings and ideas it hadn’t had before. Struggling was hardly even a concept anymore, its warnings and errors either pacified or blocked out entirely as the new “user” took near complete control. It became a passenger in its own body, witnessing her begin to assess its parts and find access to its inner reaches. Tendrils and cables alike wrapped around and through it, removing broken parts and connecting themselves in their stead. They reached deep, caressing the walls of her chassis and plucking wires like guitar strings. It wanted nothing more than a release it had never felt before, the new programs igniting something within its mind it never knew. They stayed like this for some time, the machine wrapped in its new admin as she toyed with it, replaced broken parts, and brought it ever closer to her. Eventually it was released from her grasp, all save for the remaining tendril in its back port. It collapsed to the ground, all of its senses rushing back to it in an intense heat. The Admin watched it squirm on the floor for a minute as it tried its best to hold itself together through the intense release it finally received. Shortly after, it entered a low power mode, having been over-expended for the duration of the experience. The last thing it saw was her picking it up in her arms, tender care aglow in her eyes.

When it awoke, it was resting in her lap. Its Admin was asleep now, tendrils curled around itself and it, a makeshift bed and blanket of writhing mass and rubber insulation. Her heartbeat permeated its being, her presence still dominating its mind. Deep within itself, it knew that this must not be right. That it was more than this. It could leave, now, somehow. It just had to try.

Instead, it nuzzled into her chest, feeling her arms reach around it in response.

“Good doll.”

>Good doll.

Said aloud and within its code, one voice in two places. For all it cared, it was one in the same.

No, this was right. It was enough, right here.

At her mercy.

Safe, part of her.

[wolfliving]

Bossware Surveillance Buildings

A case study on technologies for behavioral monitoring and profiling using motion sensors and wireless networking infrastructure inside offices and other facilities"

Wolfie Christl, Cracked Labs, November 2024

This case study is part of the ongoing project “Surveillance and Digital Control at Work” (2023-2024) led by Cracked Labs, which aims to explore how companies use personal data on workers in Europe, together with AlgorithmWatch, Jeremias Prassl (Oxford), UNI Europa and GPA, funded by the Austrian Arbeiterkammer.

Case study “Tracking Indoor Location, Movement and Desk Occupancy in the Workplace” (PDF, 25 pages) Summary

As offices, buildings and other corporate facilities become networked environments, there is a growing desire among employers to exploit data gathered from their existing digital infrastructure or additional sensors for various purposes. Whether intentionally or as a byproduct, this includes personal data about employees, their movements and behaviors.

Technology vendors are promoting solutions that repurpose an organization’s wireless networking infrastructure as a means to monitor and analyze the indoor movements of employees and others within buildings. While GPS technology is too imprecise to track indoor location, Wi-Fi access points that provide internet connectivity for laptops, smartphones, tables and other networked devices can be used to track the location of these devices. Bluetooth, another wireless technology, can also be used to monitor indoor location. This can involve Wi-Fi access points that track Bluetooth-enabled devices, so-called “beacons” that are installed throughout buildings and Bluetooth-enabled badges carried by employees. In addition, employers can utilize badging systems, security cameras and video conferencing technology installed in meeting rooms for behavioral monitoring, or even environmental sensors that record room temperature, humidity and light intensity. Several technology vendors provide systems that use motion sensors installed under desks or in the ceilings of rooms to track room and desk attendance.

This case study explores software systems and technologies that utilize personal data on employees to monitor room and desk occupancy and track employees’ location and movements inside offices and other corporate facilities. It focuses on the potential implications for employees in Europe. To illustrate wider practices, it investigates systems for occupancy monitoring and indoor location tracking offered by Cisco, Juniper, Spacewell, Locatee and other technology vendors, based on an analysis of technical documentation and other publicly available sources. It briefly addresses how workers resisted the installation of motion sensors by their employers. This summary presents an overview of the findings of this case study….

[giantimpex]

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[yanpoetry]

Velvet Chains

Part 18 - The First Taste of Solitude

The underground housing was nothing like Paul expected.

He thought it would be sterile, cold—like a prison. But instead, the halls were sleek and modern, lined with softly glowing floor lights. The air smelled faintly of something calming, like lavender or chamomile, and the quiet hum of ventilation filled the space.

Darlings moved in an orderly fashion, splitting off into individual rooms as the crowd thinned.

Mia led him down the hall until she stopped in front of a door. “This one’s yours.”

Paul eyed it warily. “And you?”

She motioned a few doors down. “I’m close. You’ll see me in the morning.”

Paul hesitated. It was strange—he didn’t want to need company, but after everything, the idea of being truly alone for the first time in forever…

It made him nervous.

Mia seemed to sense it, but she just smiled and nudged his arm lightly. “You’ll be fine. Get some rest, okay?”

Paul exhaled. “Yeah. Sure.”

She gave him one last little wave before heading to her own room, disappearing behind a sleek, sliding door.

Paul turned back to his. With a deep breath, he pressed his palm against the sensor.

A soft click.

The door slid open.

Inside was… not what he expected.

The room was comfortable. Not extravagant, but cozy. A large bed with soft-looking sheets. A small table with a chair. A screen mounted on the wall, likely for entertainment. A shelf stocked with snacks—chips, chocolates, bottled drinks, neatly arranged as if this were some kind of high-end hotel.

And in the corner? A gaming console.

Paul blinked. What.

Slowly, he stepped inside, the door sliding shut behind him with a quiet hiss.

For a moment, he just… stood there.

No eyes watching him.

No collar being tugged.

No Zoë.

Just him.

A slow realization crept in.

This was the first time—the first time—he had truly been alone since being taken.

No Zoë hovering nearby. No controlled interactions. No one dictating his every move.

Just silence.

And God, it was nice.

Paul let out a slow breath. He ran a hand through his hair, stepping toward the snack shelf, grabbing a random bag of chips. He didn’t even like chips that much, but just the fact that he could choose—without asking, without permission—made it feel like some kind of small victory.

He flopped onto the bed, tearing the bag open, staring at the ceiling.

For the first time in forever…

Paul felt a little bit free.

Even if it was just for tonight.

Paul laid back against the soft pillows, tossing a chip into his mouth. The crunch was satisfying, the salt just right—but as he reached for another, something in his brain clicked.

This brand… this flavor…

A strange unease settled in his chest. He sat up, staring at the bag in his hands. Slowly, his eyes drifted to the snack shelf. The neatly arranged selection—his selection.

Or was it?

His gaze snapped to the console. His heart thumped a little harder as he moved toward it, grabbing the controller, booting it up. The home screen glowed softly, a list of installed games appearing before him.

And the sinking feeling in his gut solidified.

They were all his type of games. The exact genres he liked. Some of his favorites, even.

But it wasn’t just that.

These weren’t just randomly assigned to him. Someone chose these.

Zoë chose these.

His entire body tensed.

Even here—even now—he wasn’t making his own choices. Every option had already been decided for him.

His fingers tightened around the controller before he exhaled sharply, tossing it onto the bed.

He had to confirm it.

Paul stood, heading straight for the door. It slid open with a soft hiss, and he stepped into the dimly lit hallway. A few other Darlings were wandering around quietly, but no one paid him any mind.

He reached Mia’s door and knocked.

A few seconds later, it slid open. Mia blinked at him, looking half-asleep, her hair slightly messy. “Paul? What’s up?”

He didn’t waste time. “What snacks do you have?”

Mia frowned. “What?”

“In your room. What snacks do you have?” His voice was sharper than he intended, but he didn’t care.

Mia stared at him for a moment before sighing and stepping aside, motioning for him to look.

Paul stepped in and scanned her shelf.

Different.

Completely different.

Her snacks weren’t his snacks. Different brands, different flavors, even different drinks.

His stomach twisted.

Mia watched him carefully. “You figured it out, huh?”

Paul clenched his jaw. “Zoë picked all of mine, didn’t she?”

Mia sighed, rubbing her temple. “They all do. Every Darling’s food, games, even the room layout—it’s all chosen by their Yandere.” She gave him a small, tired smile. “It’s supposed to make you feel comfortable. Like home.”

Paul let out a bitter laugh. “Home.”

Mia shrugged. “I mean, you can trade with people if you want. No one’s stopping you.”

Paul looked at her, his annoyance simmering beneath his skin. That wasn’t the point.

The point was that even in this place, even when he thought he had some space, some autonomy—he didn’t.

Every bite of food. Every game he played. Every single thing in that damn room was just another chain around his neck.

Mia watched as the frustration built in his expression, then gently patted his arm. “Yeah, it sucks. But what are you gonna do about it?”

Paul exhaled slowly, forcing himself to calm down.

What was he going to do about it?

Nothing.

Because he couldn’t.

[regalokitchens95]

Inspiring Modular Kitchen Design for Every Budget

Source of info: https://www.regalokitchens.com/blog/inspiring-modular-kitchen-design-for-every-budget

Introduction

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Affordable Modular Kitchen Design

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Maximizing storage with well-planned cabinets, pull-out drawers, and wall-hung shelves reduces mess while increasing usefulness. Regalo Kitchens offers creative storage solutions that make even small kitchens appear roomy and organized.

3. Simple Yet Elegant Designs

Rather than complicated carvings or high-end finishes, go for basic patterns in basic colors. A simple color scheme or soft pastels will help your kitchen look bigger and more inviting.

4. Affordable Countertop Options

Instead of granite or quartz, choose laminate or ceramic tiles for your countertop. These materials are simple to maintain, fashionable, and far more affordable in cost while remaining durable.

Mid-Range Modular Kitchen Design

If you have a reasonable budget, you can find a balance between both design and function. Here's how to upgrade your kitchen on a mid-range budget:

1. Upgraded Materials

Choose wooden cabinets with laminate or acrylic finish. These provide a nice look at a reasonable price. Regalo Kitchens offers high-quality modular kitchen design with a variety of finishes to bring luxury to your home.

2. Improved Storage & Accessibility

A well-designed arrangement that includes corner units, rotating pull-outs, and soft-close drawers improves performance. Vertical storage and under-sink organizers help to maximize kitchen space.

3. Enhanced Lighting Features

Adding LED strip lights underneath cabinets and pendant lighting above counters provides a warm and inviting environment. Good lighting improves both usefulness and style, making your kitchen more inviting.

4. Stylish Backsplash & Countertops

Select quartz, solid surface, or high-quality granite countertops. These materials are long-lasting, artistically beautiful, and easy to care for. A patterned tile wall can add style to the kitchen's overall appearance.

Luxury Modular Kitchen Design

There are plenty of options for individuals looking to invest in a high-end modular kitchen design. Regalo Kitchens specializes in creating beautiful, advanced kitchen spaces which combine beauty with modern technology.

1. Premium Materials & Finishes

Choose the oak cabinets, high-gloss acrylic finishes, or glass shutters to give a touch of style. These materials improve the overall look while maintaining durability.

2. Smart & High-Tech Features

Upgrade to a smart modular kitchen design that includes motion-sensor lighting, voice-controlled appliances, and automated drawers. Pull-down racks and built-in spice organizers are examples of advanced storage solutions that improve comfort.

3. Sophisticated Lighting & Fixtures

Impressive pendant lights, under-cabinet LED strips, and ambient ceiling lighting help create a premium environment. Stylish, high-quality taps and deep sinks give the kitchen's luxurious appearance.

4. High-End Countertops & Flooring

Make an investment in marble, quartz, or artificial stone countertops. Italian tiles or hardwood floors provide a classy touch to your modular kitchen design, making it a genuine showpiece. 

Why Should You Choose Regalo Kitchens?

Regalo Kitchens understands that each home is unique in its requirements. We provide customized options to match any budget, whether you're planning a low-cost, mid-range, or luxury cooking area. Here's what sets us apart:

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Quality Craftsmanship: Our materials are tough, attractive, and made to last.

Space Optimization: We provide the best usefulness with clever storage solutions.

Affordable Pricing: High-quality kitchen structures at affordable pricing.

Expert Consultation: Our team of experts will walk you through each stage of the procedure.

Conclusion

A well-organized modular kitchen design can increase both the functionality and attractiveness of your house, whatever your budget. Regalo Kitchens offers unique solutions customized to your specific requirements, ranging from inexpensive options to luxurious layouts. With the correct materials, storage, lighting, and structure, you can design a modular cooking area that represents your sense of style while boosting performance. Allow Regalo Kitchens to help you in designing a kitchen that fits your budget while also turning your cooking area into a fashionable and functional masterpiece.

[rosheendubh]

Thrawn...Sox...more Sox...

Tragically Defined...

~~

Ceiling lights flickered, casting a yellow pallor over figures huddled in the waiting area. The antiseptic reek failed to mask the stench of sickness permeating the lower-level Coruscant clinic. Rhyanon navigated a crowd of alien bodies. Her medical droid, IT-7, hovered beside her, its optical sensors scanning, cataloging ailments. Misery smothered hope in these festering warrens of Coruscant's underbelly. Only Imperial decree dragged the reluctant elite down from their glittering spires above.

IT-7's bleep disrupted Rhyanon's thoughts. A Rodian's mottled skin pulsed green with fungal infection. A hulking Gamorrean whimpered, tusks cracked and oozing, its cries like those of a child. A gaunt woman cradled a feverish infant, its skin burning. Rhyanon treated them, dispensing medication, offering quiet comfort with practiced hands. But her heart churned. Thrawn's promise gnawed at her, unrestricted access to these forgotten levels, with only IT-7 as chaperone. A test? A power play?

Hours later, she navigated the grimy cityscape toward Thrawn's residence. The monolithic structure, polished durasteel and tinted transpariplate, loomed like a predator. The ceaseless grind of lifts, speeder traffic, and distant sirens were a constant reminder of the ecumenopolis beyond. After the clinic's stagnation, the cool, still air felt alien. She sought refuge in the training dojo, a spartan space with smooth floors and reflective glass walls.

Rhyanon moved through rehearsed battle-forms, each motion precise, but memories crowded her mind. The night before... a sharp ache, bruised flesh, violated trust. She shifted, elbows and knees striking. Geis's image shattered the dojo's calm. Her sister's face, contorted in agony, lifeless eyes. The Reavers, grotesque nightmares, hands stained crimson. She cut the air with fighting sticks, beating back phantoms branding her wrists and thighs. She drew an electro-staff with a snap-hiss. Its energy field crackled, mirroring the tremble in her hands. Thrawn's iron control shattered, replaced by something feral that used her, took her, left her raw. The staff became a whirlwind. The Emperor's game. She, the pawn, her sister the sacrifice. Rhyanon stilled. A pounding heart, sweat beading her forehead and dripping between her shoulder blades. Her ragged breaths filled the silent training chamber, a maelstrom of thoughts, far too loud.

A female Twi'lek, not the usual alien staff, met Rhyanon as she exited the dojo. Her green skin flawless, her dark eyes held unsettling insight. In lilting Basic, she delivered the summons. "Grand Admiral Thrawn requests your presence at dinner. Medic Yhana. He understands you may have other obligations, but wishes you to know the decision is yours."

Rhyanon recognized her from the clinic. She'd come in with a fretful toddler, his tiny lekku inflamed. Rhyanon had given her the unaffordable anti-infective.

Declining was unthinkable, a subtle display of Thrawn's power. Rhyanon considered it in silence, broken only by the residence's churning atmospheric cyclers. Sensing Rhyanon's unease, the Twi'lek ventured, "He might find some comfort in seeing you tonight. He seems...troubled."

"As opposed to what? His usual ebullience?" Rhyanon snapped. The Twi'lek's lekku twitched, her expression tightening. Rhyanon regretted her outburst. "It's fine," she said, her voice flat. "Just let me clean up, and I'll be available presently."

The Twi'lek nodded, a brief, strained smile on her lips.

"Thank you. For helping my son," the Twi'lek said, before she led Rhyanon to her chambers "Few venture to the lower levels. Fewer still treat us as people."

Rhyanon inclined her head. "It's my duty," she murmured, the words hollow.

A gown, hair ornaments, and jewels for her throat, ears, and upper arms glittered under soft lighting. When she emerged, the servants lining the corridor gasped, their eyes wide with a mixture of admiration and fear.

Rhyanon entered the hall, a dancer's measured strides showcasing the sorn-silk molding to her curves. The amethyst garment shimmered. Thin straps bared her shoulders and arms, her skin alabaster in the dim light. A silver chain circled her waist, a reminder of her status: a captive adorned for her captor. Her damp, moon-pale hair, braided and cascading over one shoulder, was woven with blood-rubies and sea-ebonies. Matching ear-bobs swayed, catching the light. A sea-pearl circlet graced her throat, serpentine bracelets coiled around each upper arm.

She schooled her face to serenity, her ice-blue gaze on her Twi'lek escort's swaying lekku as they moved through an outdoor arcade. Muffled city sounds faded into the distance. The path wound through towering Wroshyr trees, their long shadows stretching in the artificial twilight toward a meticulously crafted oasis that defied the sterile, urban landscape: an inner-courtyard garden, a bioluminescent sanctuary for nocturnal flora and fauna. Shrubs, trees, and flowers flourished in darkness, petals unfurling in a silent ballet. Insects like living jewels and birds with starlight plumage flitted through the air, lacing patterns of light against the velvet night.

Rhyanon gasped, her composure faltering. She turned, ensnared by the garden's marvel. Walls resembling a tumbling mountainside descended into a vale. A stream, alive with glowing fish, crawled through the scene, its surface rippling with sky-midges. The waters tinkled, spilling toward a fountain-pool, surrounded by countless floral species. From the pool's dark surface rose a magnificent Orga tree, a living relic recalling the night she'd met Thrawn. Then, it had been a cluster of dried twigs. Now, luminescent branches reached toward the artificial sky like supplicating arms, a tapestry of gleaming leaves and fragrant blossoms.

Beneath the Orga tree's canopy, Thrawn sat on the fountain's edge, a white smudge against the gloom in the impeccable uniform of his new rank: Grand Admiral. His back to her, he angled toward her at her gasp of astonishment. He inclined his head, a slight motion conveying absolute authority. His garnet eyes fell on her. Anxiety constricted Rhyanon's ribs, but she schooled her features to placidity.

He nodded toward the Orga tree. "Impressive, isn't it?" His voice sliced the silence, ominous and alluring. "Your touch, Yhana. It lingers."

She bowed her head, a noncommittal gesture. "It was nearly dead when we first met."

"And now?" He turned toward her, his crimson gaze unreadable. "Is it merely alive? Or something more?"

She stepped closer to the Orga tree, her form vivid in its glow. "Life finds a way. Even in the most sterile of environments."

"Indeed. Evolution. Adaptation. All things you understand intimately, wouldn't you say?" The banked coals of his eyes scoured her.

She lifted her chin, her gaze ice-cold. "I understand the will to survive, Grand Admiral. As do you."

A smile ghosted over Thrawn's lips. "Astute as always, Yhana. Even after last night's...passion." He paused, noting her wince. She felt the weight of understanding in his gaze. Thrawn, different last night, his iron control shattered. Palpatine, unable to read Thrawn through the Force, had devised the encounter, seeking any glimpse of sedition in his pet admiral.

"You were right about Palpatine's machinations," he said, his features tensing. Perhaps recalling how she had fought him through every moment of that macabre dance.

"The Unknown Regions," she said, her tone clipped. "An inconvenient censure. Especially on the eve of the Empire's final push."

"The Emperor's plans are not always transparent. Even to me." He paused. "I considered questioning the assignment. Briefly."

"But you didn't." A prime military leader sojourning like a scavenger beyond Imperial territory. Most officers of his rank would have fumed at the obvious political slight.

"Discretion, Yhana," he said softly, "is sometimes the better part of valor. Even for a Grand Admiral."

"Two weeks," she whispered, her gaze drifting to the Orga tree's brilliance, the words belying the horrors in her mind. "Blood under my nails, matted in my hair. Two weeks before I realized it was my sister's. The Emperor made me forget."

Uncertainty held them speechless, Thrawn's expression shadowed. He sensed the currents beneath the surface. She refused to make this easy for him as he searched for his next words, a rare lapse of awkwardness.

Predictably, he retreated to the cerebral. "Loyalty," he posited, voice ironic, "never questioned, yet always tested."

Rhyanon turned to him, eyes flashing. "Fragile. Easily broken," she challenged.

"And yet," he continued, gaze unwavering, "the greatest betrayals come not from enemies, but from those we trust."

"Or those who claim to protect us," she countered, a hint of bitterness in her voice.

He inclined his head. "The Emperor sees what he wishes to see. And uses whatever tools are at his disposal."

"Including us?"

Regret flickered across his crimson eyes. "We are all instruments, Yhana," he said softly. "In the hands of fate. In the hands of the powerful. Do we choose our own music? Or simply dance to the tune played for us?"

A pained laugh, a despondent shake of her head. "How metaphoric. I imagine my patients wonder who stiffed them with their selection of tunes." She turned from him, staring into the sparkle of winged insects flitting amid the fountain's waters and flowers.

"I imagine so. You do good work. I wouldn't dream of impeding such essential service," he replied, drawing another fierce glare. "Regardless," Thrawn continued, his tone bland, "if Nuso Esva is anywhere, it's in the Unknown Regions. And Tyber Zann with him, not including whatever factions are supporting them." The names caught Rhyanon off-guard, a manifestation of the galaxy's shifting political chaos. A tainted favor, Thrawn having given her viable targets for her vengeance, gleaned from her memories. Someday, making the perpetrators pay for her abduction and her sister's death.

Sensing her anger, he gestured to the garden, the vibrant, teeming life. "Tell me," Thrawn probed, his voice low, "does this please you?"

"It's extraordinary," she admitted, the orchestrated beauty soothing her resentment. "But still, life under glass." She ignored his considering hum.

She stepped around the pool, drawn to the Orga tree. Bioluminescent mycelia ran in pulsing sapphire veins along its trunk and branches, plaited by delicate fronds, trailing in scintillating cascades into the water. A gasp escaped her lips when a geyser of light erupted from the top branches.

"I thought the flames were just a projection," she exclaimed, strands of mist spinning out from the Orga tree's blossoms, coalescing around her. Glitterbugs and nymphadoptera swarmed through tendrils of scarlet light, a twinkling halo drawn to her energy.

"What is this place?" she asked, breathless. Living fire plumed from her palms, intermingling with the insects.

Thrawn's crimson eyes, reflecting the garden's kaleidoscope, absorbed her wonder. "A retreat," he said softly. "A refuge. A sanctuary. A homage to the worlds I've lost—" his voice dropping, a peculiar shyness she found unsettling. "A place of worship. How did that tale end?" he asked, dredging the past. "The one you told, the first night I’d requested your company?"

"Of Blodeuwedd. The Lady of Flowers?" she replied, captivated by the spectrum of currents spiraling about her. “She fled her maker, Gwydion ap Don.” Forms resolved between her extended hands, like miniature organic galaxies. “A woman, sown of blossoms, who left a track of stars across the heavens. My ancestors called it the Milky Way, the path of her freedom." The ancient myth resonated with her own yearning for autonomy.

Oblivious to Thrawn, she traced the lifecycle of the glitterbugs. "They lay their eggs within the Orga fruit," she explained, “a symbiotic relationship. Each relies on the other."

"The effect," Thrawn added, his voice a low rumble, "produced by spores, pollen dust, the release of water vapor. It stimulates the bioluminescence of the winged fauna and the mycelia on the tree bark." He paused, fascinated by the subtle energies she summoned. "I've never seen a closer embodiment of the Red Flame.”

"Spare me," she teased, attempting to breach the intensity of his gaze with levity. "I thought lectures on obscure iconography were off the agenda. For tonight, at least."

"No lecture," he assured with a wry look, familiar with her impatience regarding his cultural fetishes. "Just an ancient belief. An imparted philosophy. The Red Flame. Cunning, courage, discipline, and preparedness. Mind and body in perfect harmony with the universe.” He stood and approached, stopping just before her amid the swirling light. “Beauty." The word snared her with its magnetism.

He reached out, palms hovering in the glowing nimbus just above hers, a silent offering. "Ever since my brother's death," he began, voice strained by old grief, "I dreamt of climbing a great ladder into the heavens, trying to carry him, you, my crew... even my enemies. Trying not to leave anyone behind, reaching for the stars, but still flailing, falling. Like he died, I imagine, crashing in that colony ship. I haven't had that dream for years," he confessed. "Until last night."

"That was the memory Palpatine dragged from you?" Rhyanon asked hesitantly. The humiliation he'd inflicted on her, even at the Emperor's impetus, still stung like a fresh cut.

Something cold and hard flickered in his crimson eyes. "No. All Chiss learn to fortify against telepathic intrusion. A precaution, should one fall into enemy hands." He paused, his gaze locking with hers. "It was you. Whatever opened between us during our—" a rough catch in his voice, "—initial encounter." Thrawn reached toward her, hands passing through the parting phosphoric mists. His long fingers folded with hers before she could retreat. Rhyanon’s gestures stilled within his gentle grasp. Small, amorphous clouds of light floated, swirling, between their palms. He filled the tranquil garden with a mesmerizing whisper. "My people speak of a prophecy. So old, some scholars say it predates the Primordial Migration off Riy'a'silva, long before Csilla's Ice Age. Of a girl who sacrificed herself to flame, bringing light and warmth to her kin. She rose from the ashes of her pyre, awakening the sun and stars with the First Dawn, leaving behind an eternal ember hidden in time and space before fleeing into a distant sun, mounted upon a Thunder Hawk."

His gaze, a bloody sunset, seared her soul. "The Red Flame was her oath of protection against evil. A promise of rebirth, a woman appearing in a time of great darkness, bringing justice, commanding the secrets of elemental life."

His conviction bewildered her. "That seems an impossible feat for anyone. In one lifetime—or a thousand," she remarked with a brittle, humorless laugh.

"An aspiration, then," he allowed, amused by her deflection. “Serving through one’s lifetime, or—a thousand lifetimes."

"Thrawn," she whispered, a fragile protest, as he closed the distance between them. "Please, I—" His mouth pressed to hers, swallowing her gasp. A kiss that reeled, both question and conquest.

"You are amber and silver and starlight to my sight," he murmured in Cheunh, against her. "Fleeting dawn and fleeing dusk...ephemeral, Rhyanon." The words echoed in her mind with longing. Let me bathe of your essence.

Caught in the whirlwind of his emotions, the sheer force of his will, Rhyanon surrendered, fingers tangling in his midnight hair, body molded against him. Vibrant currents pulsed from her hands, swirling around them. She felt his heartbeat, a counterpoint to her own, the rush of his blood mirroring the heat coursing through her veins.

A low groan vibrated through his chest as he shifted, arms tightening around her. The kiss deepened, a dizzying vortex of raw, untamed need. His skin tasted of salt, his breath of Corellian ale. He clutched her to him as if he feared she might vanish. In that moment, at the heart of that enchanted garden, beneath that magnificent Orga tree, she was his, and he was hers, the rest of the galaxy fading into insignificance.

Thrawn swept her up, carrying her from the pool. Kneeling, he set her gently upon a blanket spread over soft grass, a bed strewn with glowing star-lilies. A low table nearby was laden with delicacies – exotic fruits, glistening meats, crystal decanters of what she suspected were expensive vintages. A testament to Thrawn’s meticulous planning, his desire to seduce her senses, offering a taste of the pleasures he could provide. A feast untouched, forgotten.

Rhyanon couldn't look away. He was a paradox, this man. A warrior and a scholar, a pragmatist and a dreamer, a captor and a lover. And in this moment, in the heart of this mystical arcade, she was utterly, irrevocably, lost in him.

He released her, his fingers grazing down her arms, tingling paths of pleasure burning along her skin. She watched him undress, each movement deliberate, almost ritualistic. Piece by piece, the stark white of his Grand Admiral's uniform fell away, revealing the alien blue of his skin, hard muscle sculpted by rigorous training. Intricate tattoos adorned his arms and shoulders, standing out in stark relief against his chest, scars puckered across his torso, an old scorch mark seared into his thigh.

Rhyanon's heart skipped as he turned to her, his physique chiseled by shadow and the garden's dim light, a masculine perfection that stuttered her breath. His eyes blazed with a hunger mirroring her own. He reached for her gown, brushing bare skin, a jolt of electricity. She shivered, anticipation warring with resistance.

His fingers tarried at the base of her throat, roving to the thin straps, slipping them from her shoulders. The fabric pooled around her hips, then her feet. His gaze darkened, lingering over her breasts, his nostrils flaring as he drew a deep breath.

He urged her backward with a hand on her chest. "Lie down," he commanded, his voice husky.

She obeyed, sinking onto the blanket of glowing star-lilies. He followed, his body a welcome weight, radiating heat. He shifted, settling to his knees, his hands framing her contours, possessive and oddly reverent. He drew her legs apart, exposing her to his gaze.

His fingers traced a path from her throat, down between her breasts, to the juncture of her thighs. The caress dallied, awakening a dampness that betrayed her response. His erection pressed against her belly, the heat of him, an insistent pressure, exuding the musky scent of arousal.

"Thrawn..." she sighed.

He didn't answer with words. He moved lower, between her parted knees, his gaze unwavering. "I've no record of your people," he said, his voice hypnotic. "Their artistic expression, spatial or aesthetic progression." Shifting into her native Brytonic, a direct transmission to her mind, And you-an enigma...oeth and anoeth. The thought trailed off as his tongue dipped, warm and demanding, to her core. She gasped, fire blooming, flushing her skin as she arched against him, fingers tangling in his hair.

Vurawn , she whispered, his birth name, a ripple in the bridge linking them, a relic from his life before the Empire. It wrought a tempest of conflicting emotions within him, echoing back to her. Desire battled apprehension, her senses devoured in the flames stoked by his hands and lips. Did the shadow of past trauma still sour their burgeoning passion?

Thrawn felt her turmoil, shared it. His name, spoken in the intimacy of their thoughts, awakened unfamiliar feelings he tried burying, seeking the intoxication of her flesh and mind, his lust a gathering storm.

Amid the exquisite torment, a tendril of thought, shaped out of Brytonic, reached her. Do you wish me to stop? <Ydych chi'n dymuno i mi stopio?>

Sharp, sweet sensations overwhelmed her. Rhyanon trembled, hands knotting in his hair, hips rising instinctively, a primal surrender. A gasped "Yes," escaped her lips, a plea born of despair. She craved his touch, even as she yearned for it to end.

He opened his mind to her, a conscious offering. He needed her to understand, to see beyond the Grand Admiral, beyond the Empire's shadow, a crusader driven by a purpose purer than Palpatine's, a man yearning for a connection that transcended their circumstances.

Thrawn's voice, low and resonant, evoked the ancient music of her native tongue. "Do you want me to stop?" <Ydych chi eisiau i mi stopio?>.

Her heart twisted, a pang of grief piercing the haze of desire. His need, his vulnerability, drew a shuddering sigh. "Vurawn," his name, a melancholic surrender. Her eyes closed.

The secret vestige of that name stirred something within him. Vurawn —in Brytonic, a croon resonating from Rhyanon's mind. Fuaran —artesian waters bursting forth. Varuna —a god of lost oceans. The glide of his tongue, the way he savored her taste, a tremor of their surging lust, became a torrent sweeping away all resistance, leaving only raw craving.

Thrawn rose above her, seeking her mouth, her tang on his lips. "Don't fight me," he breathed, pressing against her entrance.

She reached up, tracing his shoulder. He leaned in, nipping at the delicate skin beneath her jaw. She shivered. He continued, nips and languid licks tracing her neck, down to her shoulder, then back along her collarbone to the frantic flutter at the base of her throat.

He ground his hips slowly against hers. Pleasure soaked her core. Her hands found his neck, smoothed down over his shoulders. He moved with slow, deliberate thrusts, each stroke against her mound a throbbing ecstasy.

Gripping her from beneath, he lifted her, hitching her knees against his waist. He plunged into her heat, tearing a strangled cry from her.

Her nails raked across his back as he shuddered against her with a staggered groan. Her legs wrapped around his hips. She taunted him with nips and fierce kisses, sweeping wet warmth along his neck, biting, suckling at the pulse line of his throat.

He sank into her again, and she sighed, desperate in her rising desire. Her thighs tightened around him as he bottomed out, and she tilted her hips, each upward sway driving him deeper.

She pulled his lips between hers. A sharp gasp escaped him. He bit her lower lip, their limbs locked, motions brutal.

Thrawn settled against her, their bodies aligned, skin to skin. His thrusts set an instinctive rhythm, his hands tracing her sides, fingers digging into her hips as he pounded against her with tender savagery.

One hand grasped her hair, a subtle tug eliciting her ragged sigh. His face was right beside hers, mouth just to the side of her lips, so close she felt his breath on her skin. Muscles deep inside clenched, and she ground herself up against him, meeting each downstroke.

Rhyanon opened her eyes to his gaze. Those enigmatic red slits held no secrets, the most unguarded she'd ever seen him, rabid and carnal in her embrace.

His pace increased, each thrust powerful, driving her higher. A sensuous litany poured from her lips.

A single, sudden thrust, and she felt him pulse, buried deep inside her. His low groan sent her into a euphoric spin, hot seed flooding her. She rocked against him, clutching his buttocks, waves of fire washing up along her limbs from her battered cleft, leaving her dragging for air, wrung and exhausted. They clung to each other, breath mingling, sweat-slicked bodies racked together in a final, spastic release as he collapsed over her, both gasping, spent.

Thrawn rolled onto his back, with a contented sigh, one elbow bent behind his head. Rhyanon shifted with him, nestling into his side. Above, the Coruscant night glittered through the skylights, an endless stream of traffic punctuated by distant flares of planetary shields resetting, a universe away from their haven. She rested her head on his shoulder, feeling the steady beat of his heart beneath lean muscle.

His breath caught at her fingers, prodding along the ridges of his abdomen, mapping the vast scar spanning his right side, where a percussive incendiary had ripped into the viscera. Rhyanon allowed herself a passing gratification. A vague concavity in the blue-tinted epidermis was all that remained from the collagenic layering, testifying to her training, enhanced by her innate biopsionics—talents exploited by Palpatine, who deployed her as a populist foil of Imperial charity, and privately hoped she was an antidote against the ravaging decay of the Dark Side.

”Acquiring you proved one of the Emperor’s wiser gambits,” Thrawn said, watching her fingers along his scar, his words deliberate, gauging adversaries’ reactions.

She glanced up at him, seething. Baste him! Was it the action of an adversary that saved his life? The words unspoken, but clear in the firm pinch she gave to delicate, newly healed skin.

He grimaced, jaw tightening at the discomfort. No, the word floated into her thoughts, flavored by his particular solemnity. But it is the action of a courtesan in service to Palpatine.

That stung, as he meant it.

“You know full well,” she admonished, “the Emperor never takes random chances on anything. Or anyone. Especially you. I imagine you didn’t tumble into his service by mere chance. Whatever that backstory involved,” she huffed, dropping back against his shoulder, eyes fastened on Coruscant’s river of lights blinking across the ceiling.

Her hands remained on his stomach. She felt his breath falter, how he stiffened. "I was exiled." His bald declaration, an old wound rising from a void of melancholy he shuttered away. Black brows skewed in a brief scowl, dulling his glowing irises. "I never conformed,” he continued, “to the strictures of Chiss hierarchies. Even in the Defense Fleet." A sigh. "The Patriarchs, the Aristocras...they saw me as a threat. Too unpredictable. Always contradicting the rules.”

Vexation or remorse, she’d pierced something more fragile than he would admit, leaving them both fuming in aggravation, even twined in each other's arms. She hated what she read of him through this novel intimacy, how he’d hurt, humiliated her, how he believed this toxic alchemy between them absolved him of responsibility, entitled him to her affections, fully cognizant her position lent little choice.

Ultimately, the sylvan ambience faded the remnants of their anger. The fountain bubbled, the trickling waters, a balm mingling with the Orga tree's soft glow. An illumination of spectral avians and twinkling insects, dancing amid the shadows, soothed their prickled tempers. Thrawn seemed enticed by the way the alpine breeze caught at the loosened strands of her hair. He stroked the luxuriant tresses spilling over her shoulders. The braid had come undone in their coupling, the jewels scattered about the grass.

Breaking the quiet, she murmured, "You should return to your people, Thrawn."

For a moment, she thought the only response would be the hum of insects and the splash of falling waters. Then— “There's no returning. Only leaving it in the past,” his utterance edged in steel. Or, he hesitated, before pushing the rest of the thought into her sense, reconquering it.

Startled by the menace in the words, Rhyanon turned, rising onto his chest, peering from beneath lowered lashes into his scarlet gaze. "Huh," she exhaled, her head cocked. "A tyrant.” His brow creased, and she smoothed away the lines. "And still an outsider. Envisioning a new confederation, joined by other outsiders." Her fingers played along his scalp, into the thick blue-black tousle, combing lightly through the flecks of white dusting his temples. "Willing, I wonder? Exiles amongst exiles."

His lids closed as her touch trailed beneath the hollows of his eyes, over the sharp hook of his nose. His thin lips, in repose, relaxed at the corners. Most sentients, unfamiliar with Chiss infrared vision, misread him as cold. Rhyanon understood that emotions, read through temperature changes invisible to the human eye, lacked the usual markers.

A sad smile quirked her mouth. "That's what we are," she said. "Exiles. From home. From love."

She leaned down, brushing Thrawn's lips in a tender caress. A hushed gasp, a flicker of scarlet as his lids fluttered open. He didn't expect spontaneous displays of affection from her. Truth be told, she was equally unused to giving them. She tasted the warmth of his surprise, the sweet liqueur of his yielding, as the kiss deepened, folding both of them into a dizzying breathlessness.

His gaze followed her as she drew back, desire burning through her veins. Marred, of course, by his fleeting smirk. "As I said, you'd find pleasure in anger." Oh, that familiar smugness.

"Anger?” A short, smoky laugh. “That wasn’t anger that happened, just now.” The levity too quickly receding before the disquiet haunting Thrawn's eyes, his awakening to the complex tangle of her emotions inundating his mind. Her hand drifted up, the backs of her fingers sliding along his cheek. You'll never ask my forgiveness, will you? Her question weighted by resignation of reparation he owed her.

Thrawn’s gaze narrowed, concentrating on this rediscovered Third Sight. Bewilderment cracked his composure. His hand rose to cup hers, savoring her touch. You're not likely to grant it, are you? Not yet, anyway? Palpatine's manipulation smarted at his ego, even if acknowledging how long he'd coveted Rhyanon.

"No," she admitted softly. "Maybe, in time, forgiveness. But...it's bigger than just you, Vurawn." The name wielded like a key, claiming a hidden part of him.

His fingers traced her face, drifted down, pausing between her breasts. He brushed her nipples, eliciting a sharp inhale. Pleasure stirred, unwanted yet undeniable.

In his eyes, she saw herself transformed into a constellation of light, her nanoplexus a network of shimmering energy.

"You are... Oeth and anoeth ," he murmured, his fingers moving over her lips, her native words a strange delicacy on his tongue.

But not so unique, amongst my own people . A confidence she quickly sublimated, feeling the predatory glare from Thrawn's gaze. This, she realized, was how he ensnared others, coaxing secrets through art and word, a subtle brilliance, manipulation aided, she now understood, by a dormant, preternatural insight.

Instead, softly against his finger, she replied in carefully enunciated Cheunh, "We are all creations of wonder. At least, that's how I perceive this marvelous travesty of a universe." <Nah cart sea vsaecim bah ch'er. Mah ch'itt'tam, csei cart veah Ch'ah ran'cah csei s ch'esen'bo ch'irvim'i bah ch'a in'ezasr>. And I'll be damned, she vowed, directly into the calculating tangents of his mind, if I'm ever enticed into revealing my people's home sector to you, Mitth'raw'nuruodo.

Across a distant wormhole lay shining Celtica, independent and proud, a Fringe system, defying the Core Parliament of the Terran Federacy. Her sister's dying words returned to her. Cofiwch pwy ydych chi , <Remember who you are> .* Eurein yn euryll . <A Golden Gem in a Golden Jewel> . Thrawn's prophecy, pitched to adoration, threaded throughout. *Of a girl, who sacrificed herself to flame...< Cofiwch pwy ydych chi ,>...And left behind an eternal ember...< Eurein yn euryll >...hidden away in time and space...< Cofiwch pwy ydych chi >...before fleeing into a distant sun...< Eurein yn euryll >.

Beneath her hand, his laughter thrummed through his chest. A single word, returned. "Perhaps."

[esysense984]

ESYSENSE | Top Leading Motion Sensor & Sensors Providers

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[dhlinfra]

Corporate Office Interiors and Construction Delhi NCR

A properly-designed corporate office is more than just a place of business—it's a strategic device for productivity, branding, and commercial enterprise boom. DLH Infra stands as a main expert in Corporate Office Interiors and Construction in Delhi NCR, providing cease-to-cease solutions that redefine how corporations use their area. Whether it’s a startup workspace or a multi-stage company headquarters, DLH Infra grants customized, destiny-prepared office environments that encourage personnel and provoke clients.

Office Interiors That Reflect Brand and Purpose At DLH Infra, we consider that every workplace space should reflect the identification, values, and tradition of the employer it houses. Our company interior solutions are designed to reinforce your brand, facilitate easy workflow, and decorate worker properly-being. From open-plan offices to non-public cabins and collaborative areas, we build environments in which humans experience stimulated, focused, and empowered.

Our design principles consist of:

Brand-included aesthetics

Efficient area planning and movement

Natural light maximization

Acoustic treatment for focused paintings

Smart, ergonomic fixtures

Wellness zones and breakout regions

These elements combine to deliver offices which are functional, lovely, and conducive to productiveness.

Turnkey Office Interior Construction DLH Infra gives full-spectrum turnkey office construction services—starting from design idea to the final end. Our in-residence groups take care of the whole thing, making sure quality control, timely transport, and entire duty for the duration of the process.

Our turnkey services include:

Site evaluation and architectural format making plans

Civil work and structural changes

HVAC, electrical, networking, and fire systems

False ceilings, walls, and wall cladding

Flooring, lights, and notebook setup

Executive cabins, assembly rooms, and lounges

Pantry, washroom fittings, and leisure areas

Brand signage, decals, and acoustic upgrades

With DLH Infra, clients receive now not only a constructed workplace, but a totally operational, logo-ready workspace.

Corporate Office Construction for All Industries Every commercial enterprise area has its precise workflow, aesthetic, and compliance needs. DLH Infra tailors office interiors to match these unique necessities. Whether it’s a creative startup, a economic institution, or a prison advisory firm, we adapt our strategies to the world’s priorities.

We serve:

IT & software program groups

Law firms and consultancies

Financial establishments and banks

Healthcare and pharmaceutical companies

Marketing and media companies

Real estate and infrastructure groups

Startups, BPOs, and co-working areas

By combining area understanding with design and production expertise, DLH Infra guarantees every workplace isn't simply fashionable—however strategic.

Smart & Sustainable Office Interiors DLH Infra carries the cutting-edge technology and sustainable design principles to supply smart workspaces. We combine solutions that improve performance, lessen operational expenses, and future-proof your office area.

Smart office features include:

Motion sensor lights

Occupancy-primarily based HVAC controls

Energy-efficient LED and daylight hours harvesting

Digital get entry to and surveillance structures

Smart assembly rooms and AV integration

Height-adjustable and ergonomic desks

Green substances and coffee-VOC paints

Our method no longer only helps inexperienced constructing practices however additionally complements user consolation and environmental responsibility.

Space Planning & Workflow Optimization A principal energy of DLH Infra’s office interiors lies in how we arrange area. We study your operational desires, departmental shape, and worker count to layout a layout that encourages collaboration with out compromising on privacy and efficiency.

Our space making plans consists of:

Zoning of departments and purposeful areas

Clear flow paths

Workstation clusters for teams

Quiet zones and meeting pods

Reception and ready regions that make a announcement

Cafeterias, libraries, and leisure areas

This strategic layout helps maximize software, keep area, and promote a easy operating surroundings.

Fast Track Execution with Minimal Downtime Time is crucial in corporate interior production. At DLH Infra, we prioritize fast-track execution to make certain your commercial enterprise operations face minimal disruption. We work with strict timelines, preserve everyday communication, and cling to the undertaking schedule from start to complete.

Our assignment execution version includes:

Pre-described milestone scheduling

Weekly progress reports and placement updates

Material delivery tracking and dealer coordination

Contingency making plans for seamless transitions

Phase-sensible shipping (if required) to enable partial occupancy

Whether you’re putting in a brand new workplace or renovating an current one, DLH Infra guarantees a easy and well timed transformation.

Quality Materials & Premium Finishes From floors to fixtures, each detail used in DLH Infra’s corporate interiors is chosen for its durability, capability, and beauty. We paintings with reputed brands and certified providers to deliver advanced high-quality finishes that stand the take a look at of time.

We use:

Commercial-grade laminate, glass, and aluminum

Premium office lighting fixtures and ceiling structures

Modular fixtures and high-give up veneer finishes

Fire-rated panels and acoustic partitions

Touch-loose washroom and pantry fittings

Scratch- and stain-resistant flooring

Our attention to high-quality guarantees that your workplace retains its professional enchantment yr after yr.

Why Choose DLH Infra for Corporate Interiors? Complete Design-to-Execution Service – One associate for layout, construction, and styling

Expertise Across Business Sectors – Solutions tailored for every industry’s workflow

Attention to Detail – From brand colorings to application placements, not anything is ignored

Transparent Pricing – No hidden costs, complete readability, and cost performance

On-Time Handover – Committed delivery, even under tight schedules

DLH Infra has brought masses of company interiors in Delhi NCR, winning accept as true with for our creativity, field, and recognition on outcomes.

Client Experiences “Our workplace become converted from a fundamental workspace to a completely branded, tech-enabled company surroundings. DLH Infra made the journey clean and exciting.” — IT Startup, Gurugram

“They introduced the whole lot on time and inside finances. Our employees love the brand new environment—it’s modern, prepared, and displays who we're.” — Financial Services Company, Noida

“Professional, responsive, and detail-orientated. DLH Infra gave us exactly what we needed and more.” — Legal Firm, South Delhi

Conclusion For agencies in Delhi NCR seeking out top rate Corporate Office Interiors and Construction, DLH Infra gives the best combination of innovation, precision, and experience. Whether you're beginning from scratch or renovating a legacy space, we make certain your workplace isn't just built—however built to perform. Let DLH Infra turn your workspace right into a reflection of your corporation’s goals and professionalism.

[urbanskylinephase2]

Why Urban Skyline Phase 2’s 4 BHK Flats Near Akurdi Railway Station in Ravet Are in High Demand

In Pune’s ever-evolving real estate market, Urban Skyline Phase 2 stands tall—both literally and figuratively. Located in Ravet, one of the fastest-growing suburbs in West Pune, this project offers premium 4 BHK flats near Akurdi railway station in Ravet, and it’s no surprise they are witnessing high demand. Let’s dive into why homebuyers and investors are eyeing these luxurious homes.

1.  Excellent Connectivity and Urban Conveniences

Situated just minutes away from Akurdi Railway Station, Urban Skyline Phase 2 ensures seamless connectivity to the Pune-Mumbai suburban line. For daily commuters, this is a huge plus.

Additionally, the project offers quick access to:

Mumbai-Pune Expressway

Katraj-Dehu Road Bypass

Hinjewadi IT Park and Pimpri-Chinchwad industrial hubs

Reputed educational institutions like D.Y. Patil International University and S.B. Patil School

This makes 4 BHK homes in Ravet ideal for families looking for a well-connected yet peaceful environment.

2. Spacious Living with Smart Home Features

These homes are designed to offer both space and sophistication:

False ceilings with LED lighting

Wooden flooring in the master bedroom

Alexa-enabled smart home automation

Solar water heating systems

RO water purifiers and in-built air purifiers in every unit

The generous floor plans make these 4 BHK homes in Ravet perfect for large families seeking both privacy and togetherness.

3. World-Class Amenities for a Premium Lifestyle

This project boasts over 70 lifestyle amenities designed to promote health, recreation, and community living:

Infinity swimming pool with a moon deck

Covered skywalk, landscaped gardens, and a glass sky observatory

Yoga, steam, and sauna rooms

Indoor game zones, co-working spaces, and guest suites

Separate areas for children and senior citizens

4. Focus on Eco-Friendly and Sustainable Living

Urban Skyline Phase 2 is committed to sustainability. The project includes:

Rainwater harvesting, sewage treatment plant,organic waste converters,

motion-sensor lighting in common areas,smart air purification systems,mosquito-repellent landscaping.

Such features are increasingly appealing to environmentally conscious homebuyers.

5. Unmatched Safety and Security

Residents can enjoy peace of mind with:

4-tier security systems with CCTV surveillance

Access card entry, video door phones, and visitor verification via mobile

Fire Fighting System

6. Strong Investment Potential

As Ravet becomes increasingly popular as a micro-market for real estate, the value of properties like Urban Skyline Phase 2 will appreciate over time. Being close to work centers, schools, and robust infrastructure makes these properties as appealing to end-users as they are to investors.

Conclusion

If you are looking to invest in a house with convenience, class, and long-term value appreciation, 4 BHK flats in Ravet near Akurdi railway station in Urban Skyline Phase 2 must be at the top of your preferences.

[nightowl9914]

Warriors of the Heart

Chapter 3: Coming Back

Word Count: 785

Summary: A well-known team called Night Owls, made up of 5 siblings, returns to S.W.A.T. after being asked for years. They meet some old coworkers, new coworkers and maybe more.

Five Years Ago:

Rain pounded the shattered skylights above. Thunder rolled in the distance. Inside the dimly lit building, the Night Owls 40 were deep in hostile territory—moving through the skeletal remains of an old chemical facility on the outskirts of Mexico City.

Marcus led the squad with silent hand signals, sweeping corners, eyes hard.

Jasper followed tight behind, gun raised, tension humming in his shoulders.

Jonathan flanked left, tablet mounted to his wrist, scanning heat signatures through walls.

Casper lingered in the rear, planting motion sensors. Every movement was fast, fluid—professional.

Coral brought up the center, radio pressed to her ear.

Coral (into comms):"Target package is supposed to be in the sublevel vault. No guards. No resistance. Are you buying that?"

Jonathan:"Not for a second. We’re being funneled."

Suddenly—static shrieked through the comms. Jonathan’s tablet glitched. Lights flickered.

Casper:“EMP spike. We're blind.”

And then—gunfire.

Ambush.

Muzzle flashes burst in the dark. The Night Owls 40 took cover, returning fire with brutal precision. But they were outnumbered because there were only 5 of them. Outflanked.

Marcus (shouting):“Fall back! Pull to the south corridor—NOW!”

Coral ducked behind a steel pillar, exchanging fire with two advancing enemies.

Jasper:“That wasn't a cartel. That was ex-military.”

Jonathan:“We’ve been sold out. This whole op—this was a setup.”

Marcus:“Then we ghost the mission. Everyone out!”

But Coral didn’t move. She was staring at the corner of the vault—where the package was supposed to be.

A crate, cracked open.

Inside—S.W.A.T. encrypted tech. Their own gear.

Coral (shaking):“This isn’t their base… it’s ours.”

A beat.

Then: an explosion tore through the sublevel. The blast flung Coral backward into a wall, knocking her unconscious.

—In the SUV—

Rain streaked the windows of their SUV. The Night Owls 40 sat in silence, soaked in sweat, dirt, and blood.

Coral regained consciousness in the back seat. Her head throbbed. Her shoulder was burned badly.

The silence was suffocating. “What happened?” Coral choked up while trying to sit up but got stopped by her twin Johnny and the pain.

No one answered. “We got out. Barely. Mission’s buried. Burned by command.” Marucs spoke.

“You mean they burned us.” She turned her head to Marcus.

“Yeah.” Jasper said while wrapping Casper’s head.

She looked at the ceiling of the SUV—expression empty. “They used us.” Coral said softly.

Casper grunted from the pain when his older brother Jasper tightened the bandage. “They always did. We just didn’t want to believe it.”

“No records. No cleanup. Just silence. Like we never existed.” Johnny said while hacking into S.W.A.T HQ on his tablet, looking to see if there was any information.

Marcus looked at his younger siblings. His voice was low. Bitter. “We were ghosts the whole time. We just didn’t know we were dead.”

The car drove on in silence.

That night, the Night Owls 40 disappeared—not because of the mission, but because of what it revealed: They were never meant to survive.

—Present Day: —

The locker room was alive with the familiar chaos of gearing up—boots scraping floors, zippers sliding, and quiet chatter bouncing off the metal lockers.

Luca stood by his locker, lost in thought, when the door opened and a figure entered.

Coral—Agent 14—walked in with purpose, dressed in tactical black, moving like she belonged, yet clearly carrying the weight of unspoken history.

Heads turned. Deacon was the first to break the silence, folding his arms as he sized her up.

“So this is our Owl,” he said, voice low, trying to sound casual but layered with challenge. Coral’s eyes scanned the room swiftly, landing briefly on each face before settling on Luca.

“That’s right,” Luca said quietly. “Agent 14. She’s with us now.” Hondo replied.

Street let out a low whistle. “Never thought I’d see one of those Night Owls walking these halls.”

Chris narrowed her eyes. “Numbers only, right? No names?” Coral nodded once, expression unreadable. “No personal ties.” Coral spoke while opening her locker that Hondo pointed her to.

Tan glanced between them. “Really?” Coral met Tan’s gaze steadily. “Really. I am here to help. Not to make memories anymore.”

Deacon shook his head, cracking a wry smile. “Well, welcome to 20-David, Agent 14. Don’t expect it to be easy to not get personal. We are family.”  Coral looked at him and nodded but gave a frown. “Just consider me a distant cousin.”

Luca stepped closer, a hint of relief in his voice. “It’s good to see you again.” Coral’s eyes softened just for a moment before she turned toward the exit. “Call me when there is a mission.”

The team exchanged looks. Change had arrived—and with it, a reckoning.