#Vehicle Assembly Building

[humanoidhistory]

NASA's monster garage, 1980.

[lonestarflight]

STS-115 "Space Shuttle Atlantis rolls away from Bay 3 in the Vehicle Assembly Building to move it to Bay 1. There Atlantis will be demated with the external tank and solid rocket boosters in anticipation of its transfer to the Orbiter Processing Facility."

Date: February 25, 2003

NASA ID: KSC-03PD-0571, KSC-03PD-0573

[gemini-enthusiast]

Beautiful sight, isn't it? The @nasa Vehicle Assembly Building with the Artemis II SLS under construction inside. The core stage in the blue scaffolding will carry liquid fuel for the rocket, and the solid rocket boosters utilize solid fuel to push the rocket into orbit.

On the Artemis II mission, humans will orbit the moon for the first time since the end of the Apollo program. This rocket will help get them there. Literally the coolest thing ever.

[wikipediapictures]

Vehicle Assembly Building

“Complex 39 reflection shot of the Vehicle Assembly Building (VAB) under construction with the Launch Control Center (LCC) and Service Towers as seen from across the Turning Basin.” - via Wikimedia Commons

[nocternalrandomness]

Apollo 11 Roll-Out - KSC - 20 May 1969

[rabbitcruiser]

NASA was created to replace NACA on October 1, 1958.

[astronauticalaspirations]

I wonder if there'll ever be a launch vehicle that needs the full 139 meters to get out the VAB door.

[anumberofhobbies]

KSC-20240724-PH-JBP01_0034 by NASA Kennedy Via Flickr: In this aerial view, NASA’s Pegasus barge, carrying the agency’s massive SLS (Space Launch System) core stage, arrives at NASA’s Kennedy Space Center Complex 39 turn basin wharf in Florida on Tuesday, July 23, 2024, after journeying from the agency’s Michoud Assembly Facility in New Orleans. The core stage is the next piece of Artemis hardware to arrive at the spaceport and will be offloaded and moved to NASA Kennedy’s Vehicle Assembly Building, where it will be prepared for integration ahead of the Artemis II launch. Photo credit: NASA/Jamie Peer and Isaac Hutson NASA image use policy.

[lshedra-blog]

Blackpoint Sunrise Across from VAB by Lutfi Shedraway Via Flickr: BlackPoint is a wildlife reserve right across Cape Canaveral NASA. This area is rich with Wildlife and known for beautiful sunrise. The building across from where I stood, on the other side of the lake bank is the Vehicle Assembly Building (VAB). It is known for housing the Shuttle in a vertical position so technicians can work on a shuttle and prepare it for a flight. I visited the VAB multiple times in my early career days, and it is an impressive structure. Although it is further than the Orlando Wet Land, Blackpoint is a place to visit if a person visiting Orlando, wanted to see wildlife in nature and do some photography. It is about an hour drive from Orlando. There is also a Wild Life Preserve center where they rehabilitate injured birds or wild life to release them back in nature. Visiting the center, one may get lucky and see up close a bald eagle.

Holidays until the next year... Time for walking, cycling, hiking and photography! Fun under Florida sun.... This photo was taken at Blackpoint at Merrit Island across from NASA. Florida sunrise at its best.

[michaelgabrill]

[reasonsforhope]

"Sodium-ion batteries for electric vehicles and energy storage are moving toward the mainstream. Wider use of these batteries could lead to lower costs, less fire risk and less need for lithium, cobalt and nickel.

On Nov. 18, CATL, the world’s largest battery manufacturer, announced its second-generation sodium-ion battery, mass production of which would begin in 2027. The China-based company said the new battery has an energy density of 200 watt-hours per kilogram, which is an increase from 160 watt-hours per kilogram for the previous generation that launched in 2021. Higher energy density in an EV battery translates into more driving range.

On Nov. 21, a consortium of seven U.S. national laboratories announced a new initiative in which they would spend $50 million to foster collaboration to accelerate the development of sodium-ion batteries. The partnership is led by Argonne National Laboratory in the Chicago area.

The two announcements are part of a larger shift as governments, researchers and companies look for alternatives to lithium-ion batteries, the dominant technology for EVs and energy storage.

For now, there are no passenger cars or trucks sold in the United States that use sodium-ion batteries. Some sodium-ion models are available in China and countries that import vehicles from China. 

“The reason we’re pursuing this is very simple,” said Venkat Srinivasan, a battery scientist at Argonne and the director of the new collaboration. “It’s because the huge demand in lithium-ion batteries has meant that we have a supply-chain constraint.

“We have a problem with cobalt. We have a problem with nickel,” he said, naming two of the metals often used in lithium-ion batteries.

Cobalt, nickel and lithium carry a variety of concerns, including the environmental damage of mining. [Note: Which is massive, and so are the human rights issues associated with lithium mining, which involves horrible conditions and is exacerbating conflict and civil wars in the Democratic Republic of Congo.] ...

In contrast, a sodium-ion battery relies on an element—sodium—that you can find in table salt and ocean water...

Also, a sodium-ion battery has much lower risk of fire. When lithium-ion batteries sustain damage, it can lead to “thermal runaway,” which triggers a dangerous and toxic fire.

The process of manufacturing sodium-ion batteries is similar to that of lithium-ion batteries, or at least similar enough that companies can shift existing assembly lines without having to spend heavily on retooling.

But sodium-ion batteries have some disadvantages. The big one is low energy density compared to lithium-ion. As a result, an EV running on a sodium-ion battery will go fewer miles per charge than a lithium-ion battery of the same size...

The national labs’ initiative has a five-year timeline, with a goal of developing sodium-ion batteries with energy densities that match or exceed those of today’s iron phosphate-based lithium-ion batteries. Researchers would do this by finding various efficiencies in design and materials.

The project is happening alongside the labs’ ongoing work to develop and improve other kinds of batteries.

Lithium-ion batteries dominate today’s market...

However, sodium-ion battery production is growing, and is projected to reach 140 gigawatt-hours by 2030, about 13 times its current level, according to Benchmark. Lithium-ion production also is projected to nearly triple by 2030.

“The key market driver for sodium-ion batteries is their potential to be cost competitive with lithium-ion batteries,” said Catherine Peake, an analyst for Benchmark...

Most of the push by battery companies to build sodium-ion systems is happening in China, but some of it is happening in other markets, including a plan by California-based Natron Energy to open its first large plant in Rocky Mount, North Carolina. Natron made its announcement about the $1.4 billion project in August and has not given a timeline for when the plant would be online.

Meanwhile, researchers and companies continue working on other battery technologies.

I asked Srinivasan how sodium-ion batteries fit into this larger picture. He said sodium-ion will likely gain market share over the next few years as an alternative to lithium-ion batteries.

Near the end of the decade, solid-state batteries will begin to become available, which would allow for higher energy densities and longer driving ranges. Solid-state batteries use a solid electrolyte instead of a liquid or gel. The electrolyte is the substance through which ions move as they go from side to side during charging and discharging.

The technologies can coexist in the market, Srinivasan said.

He thinks solid-state batteries will initially be most common in high-end models and popular with people who want the longest possible ranges.

He expects that sodium-ion batteries will be more common in low-cost EVs for people who live in cities or suburbs and don’t place a high premium on driving range.

“It will not be a fringe player,” he said, about sodium-ion. “It will actually be a fast-growing segment.”"

-via Inside Climate News, December 6, 2024

[lonestarflight]

Workers in the Vehicle Assembly Building lower the Shuttle External Tank into High Bay 3, to mate it with the two Solid Rocket Boosters on the Mobile Launch Platform (MLP-1).

Date: November 3, 1980

NASA ID: KSC-80PC-0497, 493-S80-42560, 496-80PC-617

[buckets-and-trees]

Under Siege

Characters/Pairings: mean Alpha!Bucky x curvy Female!Omega!Reader Word Count: 8.5k Summary: You accompany Bucky on business to visit someone important to the future of Bucky's regime before he takes you to your new home. (not a stand-alone read)

Content/Warnings: omegaverse: alpha commands; a flashback to your adolescence; reluctant attraction; power dynamics; manipulation; explicit smut: oral (male and female receiving), vaginal fingering, overstimulation to blackout; dacryphilia; dom talk; beefy and voracious Bucky (is a warning)

Author Notes: This overlaps with the events portrayed in Alpha Ari's introduction to this universe - Rank and Promotion - but they are built to be and can be read independently of each other.

Previous: No Way Out | Series List

↠ Main Masterlist | Aspen's Ask Box | Field Guide to the Forest

The sleek black SUV cuts through the city streets as Bucky sits beside you in the back seat, his metal hand resting possessively on your thigh. The council meeting has left you drained, both physically and emotionally, but your mind remains sharp, cataloging the day's revelations. Through the tinted windows, you watch as familiar buildings pass by, the capital city now under his complete control. 

"We're making one stop before returning to the residence," Bucky says, breaking the silence. His tone is casual, but there's an undercurrent of anticipation that piques your interest.

"Where are we going?" you ask, voice still slightly hoarse. Though you’ve been kept strictly in Bucky’s company, it’s still your first day being allowed to venture out since he took over the territory and claimed you.

"The Skyline Tower," he replies, nodding toward the gleaming skyscraper that dominates the city's horizon. "I have an important meeting with someone who's been very valuable to me." 

The SUV pulls up to the gleaming high-rise in the heart of the capital's financial district. Bucky exits first, then extends his hand to help you from the vehicle. 

"This won't take long," Bucky says, his voice low as he guides you into the building. 

The lobby is all polished marble and sleek glass, the epitome of luxury. Security personnel stand at attention as you pass, their eyes following Bucky with a mixture of fear and respect. The private elevator requires a security code, which Bucky enters without hesitation.

"Who are we meeting?" you ask, breaking your silence as the elevator ascends.

"You won’t know of him," Bucky replies, his expression unreadable. "His name is Ari Levinson."

The elevator climbs to the penthouse level, opening directly into a spacious foyer adorned with modern art and sleek furnishings. It’s a waiting area between two penthouses - one to the north, and one to the south. The panoramic windows offer a breathtaking view of the city below—your city, now under Bucky's control.

There is a group of people waiting. The entire party are dressed impeccably well, but all of their garments are simple, not flashy. From what you can assess between your observations and the scents in the room, it seems to be two betas - a middle-aged male and an older female with beautiful silver and grey hair; two stoic guard alphas; and five omegas. 

Your eyes narrow slightly, and you attempt to keep your utter surprise hidden. 

Five unmated omegas in a single space is unheard of. 

Bucky only nods, his expression shifting subtly to one of satisfaction as he surveys the assembled group. The middle-aged beta male steps forward immediately, extending his hand.

"Governor Barnes," he greets.

It’s the first time anyone has addressed your alpha directly with the title he ripped from your father in your presence, and it stirs a woody, hollow feeling in your chest. 

"Everything is arranged as requested," the man says, his voice carrying a slight accent you can't quite place. 

Bucky acknowledges him, shaking his hand firmly. "I trust there were no complications?"

"None whatsoever," the man assures him, his eyes darting briefly to you before returning to Bucky. "The documents are prepared, and all parties have been thoroughly vetted as per your specifications."

You stand silently at Bucky's side, acutely aware of the curious glances from the assembled group. The older beta woman watches you with particular interest, her shrewd eyes assessing. The five omegas—none of them bearing a claiming mark of a bond—keep their eyes downcast, an occasional stolen glance in your direction betraying their curiosity.

"Are they to your satisfaction?" the beta man asks, gesturing toward the five omegas standing in a neat row. The omegas are dressed modestly in similar cream-colored garments, their hair neatly styled, their postures submissive but dignified.

Bucky steps forward, appraising each omega with clinical detachment. "They'll do," he says after a moment. "My requirements were quite specific." 

"Yes, Commander. The finest we could locate on such short notice, but I assure you they meet all your requirements."

You feel a chill run through you as understanding begins to dawn. These omegas—all seemingly in their twenties to early thirties, all unmated—are here for some purpose of Bucky's, and the clinical way he examines them makes your stomach twist uncomfortably.

"Show me to the south penthouse," Bucky commands, and the beta nods, leading the way through a set of double doors.

The penthouse beyond is magnificent—open and airy with floor-to-ceiling windows showcasing a stunning panoramic view of the territory—your family's territory—stretching all the way to the mountains in the distance.

A man rises from a leather armchair as you enter. He's strikingly handsome with tanned skin, a full head of brown hair that flows and falls naturally just past his ears and to the nape of his neck, a mustache and full beard, and calculating blue eyes that assess you immediately. His posture is military-precise despite his civilian attire—a light blue t-shirt under an open red flannel and well-worn jeans.

"Governor Barnes," he greets Bucky with a slight inclination of his head. 

"Levinson," Bucky responds, stepping forward to clasp the man's hand firmly. "I trust the accommodations are satisfactory."

"More than," Ari replies, gesturing around. His gaze shifts to you again, curiosity evident in his expression. "And this must be your new omega. The former governor's daughter."

Bucky's hand moves to the small of your back, a possessive gesture that doesn't go unnoticed by anyone in the room. "Yes. She's mine now."

Bucky gestures for you both to sit on the plush leather couch. You settle beside him, his arm draped possessively across your shoulders, while Ari takes the armchair opposite.

"Your work in the eastern territories has been exceptional," Bucky begins, his tone matter-of-fact. "The intelligence you've gathered over the past three years has been invaluable to our acquisition of the territory."

You stiffen beside Bucky, the implications of his words hitting you like a physical blow. This man—this Ari Levinson–was yet another danger, another of the factors you didn’t know existed that led to your downfall.

"Just doing my job," Ari responds with a modest shrug, though there's a hint of pride in his eyes. 

"Which is precisely why I've called you here to the capital," Bucky continues. "Every weakness, every vulnerability you identified in the territory's defenses proved accurate. The takeover was executed with minimal resistance, just as you predicted."

"Minimal resistance is generous," Ari remarks with a slight smile. "Your tactics were... thorough." 

Bucky leans forward, his posture shifting subtly from casual to intent. "Which brings me to my proposition. I need someone to lead my military forces—someone with your strategic mind and field experience." 

Ari's expression remains carefully neutral. "You have STRIKE teams already in place. Rumlow seems capable enough."

"Rumlow is a blunt instrument," Bucky replies dismissively. "Useful for specific tasks, but lacking the vision required for what I have planned." He pauses, studying Ari with calculating eyes. "I'm offering you the position of General of my armed forces.”

Ari's eyebrows raise slightly. "General?" 

"Yes," Bucky confirms without hesitation. "The current military leadership lacks vision. They're competent at maintaining order, but we need more than that to secure our borders and expand our influence. You understand the larger picture." 

Ari's expression remains carefully neutral, though you notice a flicker of interest in his eyes. "What exactly would this entail?" 

"Authority over all military operations, reporting directly to me," Bucky explains. "A seat on the territory council, but also a member of my personal cabinet.”

You watch as Ari considers this, his fingers drumming lightly against the armrest. His gaze flicks between the two of you, but he looks primarily at Bucky. 

"Think about it,” Bucky continues, “this territory has resources, manpower, and strategic positioning. What we lack is someone with vision to utilize them properly."

You watch the exchange in silence, recognizing the careful dance of power between these two dangerous men. Ari is clearly weighing his options, calculating the benefits against potential risks.

Bucky shifts beside you, his hand squeezing your neck once before he stands. "I don't expect an immediate answer. Consider the offer." He gestures toward the door where the beta man waits. "In the meantime, I've brought something to mark your acceptance of my offer."

To mark your acceptance of my offer… It’s not lost on you–and you’re sure it’s not lost on Ari either–that this is an edict, not a negotiation. 

The beta man nods and opens the door. A moment later, the beta female enters, leading the five omegas in behind her.

"Alphas like us have... certain needs," Bucky says, his tone casual but his eyes sharp, watching for Ari’s reaction.

Certain needs… You’ve been subject to those needs in your alpha. But the connection that’s been developing between you and your dangerous alpha isn’t one-sided. You can’t pretend it is. You feel it in your bones, it swims through your veins, unwanted as the circumstances of your coupling and bonding were, the need is reciprocal, and you can feel it through the bond. 

Ari stands, and Bucky steps forward, making a sweeping motion with his arm and gesturing toward the line of omegas. "These fine specimen come from Whitecrest," he explains, voice carrying an unmistakable note of pride. "Perhaps the most prestigious omega training facility in the northern hemisphere."

Now that you have time to study them yourself, you take in the assembled group. They appear to range in age from twenties to thirties. Their hair is neatly styled, their postures submissive but dignified, eyes downcast.

The beta male - Marcus, according to his silver name badge - steps forward with a slight bow. 

"Whitecrest is an institution with over a century of tradition. Interested families who are interested contact us when they have a child who identifies as an omega within days of their presentation, usually between thirteen and fifteen years of age," the man elaborates - Marcus according to his nametag. "Only those with exceptional potential are selected. From that moment, their education becomes comprehensive. We identify their natural aptitudes and enhance them through rigorous education."

Because of your position growing up - both as an omega and in a politically powerful family - the existence of Whitecrest is not news or a rumor to you. 

Your throat constricts as memories flash unbidden. You recall the day your parents were approached by Whitecrest representatives when you were fourteen, just months after your first heat. The meeting had been held in your father's private study, and though you weren't supposed to be listening, you'd pressed your ear against the heavy oak door. 

"Governor, your daughter shows exceptional potential," the representative had said. "Her intelligence, composure, and natural grace would make her an exceptional candidate for our program."

Your father's response had been immediate and firm. "My daughter will remain here, where she belongs. She's being educated and trained to lead this territory, not to serve as an ornament for some alpha elsewhere."

Later that night, your mother had come to your room, sitting on the edge of your bed. "You know we turned them down, don't you?" she'd asked, seeing right through your feigned ignorance.

"Why?” you had asked her right back. When you were twelve, you’d overheard some of the elderly council members suggesting that you ought to be sent to Whitecrest, it had put a seed of dread into your heart, which had slowly but steadily started to grow, not wanting to be sent away. 

"We never considered it," your mother had said, brushing a strand of hair from your face. "Not even for a moment." Her eyes had held yours, fierce and protective. "You belong here, learning to lead, not learning to please some alpha we've never met."

"But some people think—"

"Some people think omegas should know their place," she'd interrupted, her voice hardening. "Your father and I know your place is wherever you choose it to be. Here with your family for now, and Governor of this people later."

Your father had joined you both then, sitting on your other side. "Being an omega doesn't define what you can achieve,"he'd said, his voice gentle but firm. "It's just one aspect of who you are. We're raising you to be strong, independent, and capable of governing this territory after us." That conviction had shaped your upbringing. 

The memory fades as you return to the present moment. Being in this penthouse now, watching these Whitecrest-trained omegas with their perfect posture and downcast eyes, you feel a profound gratitude for your parents' decision. Had they sent you away, you might be standing among this line of omegas now, offered up as a prize to this strange alpha. 

Your fate may not be infinitely better, but not everything had been stolen from you yet. Your alpha may have usurped the title intended for you, but you are his omega, and that was not nothing. 

And you do not waste your opportunity in this moment either. You study Bucky closely as Marcus enumerates the virtues of the omegas being presented to Ari Levinson. 

"Our curriculum for all our omegas is comprehensive—multiple languages, of course, with each omega mastering a minimum of four. They study diplomatic companion relations, learning to navigate even the most complex international negotiations at their alpha's side. Our political training ensures they understand governance structures worldwide, while our history program contextualizes modern power dynamics."

As Marcus continues his sales pitch, you notice a subtle shift in Bucky's demeanor. Though his expression remains impassive, there's a tightening around his eyes that suggests something about this situation displeases him. You wonder if he's comparing these perfectly trained omegas to you—untrained, rebellious, and still occasionally defiant despite your submission to him.

Marcus's voice takes on a reverent quality as he continues, "And naturally, we provide thorough instruction on what an omega's role should be—how to anticipate an alpha's needs before they're expressed, how to manage a household of any size, how to present themselves in society. They learn to navigate hierarchies with grace and dignity."

"And their families simply... give them up?" Ari asks as he studies the five before him. 

"They entrust them to us," Marcus corrects smoothly. "Most come from prominent families who understand the value of proper training. Others are discovered through our scholarship program, which identifies exceptional potential regardless of background. In either case, the families are generously compensated."

You note that Bucky’s expression remains stoic yet evaluative. There's no hunger in his gaze as he looks at these omegas—only a calculating assessment, as if they're valuable assets rather than potential mates.

"Each of these omegas represents years of investment,” Bucky cuts in. “Their training costs more than most people earn in a lifetime, and now one of them will be yours.”

The scent of alpha interest fills the room, and you notice how the omegas' breathing quickens collectively, though their poised expressions barely change.

"You're offering me one of these omegas?" Ari asks, his tone measured and even.

"Consider it a signing bonus," Bucky replies with a slight smile. "A general requires a proper companion. Someone who can manage your household, accompany you to diplomatic functions, and of course," his voice drops slightly, "satisfy your more... primal needs."

The older beta female steps forward. "If I may, Governor Barnes?”

Bucky nods, “Certainly. Levinson, I’ll leave you to your selection. Marcus and Elsie, send the final contract to my assistant.” Then he turns to his you, stretching his hand out for you, a wordless expectation in the air. 

You rise from your spot on the couch, slip your hand in his, and follow your husband out of the penthouse and back to the elevator that was waiting for your return descent. 

Bucky's thumb traces small circles on the back of your hand as the elevator descends, an oddly intimate gesture after everything you've seen and experienced today. Neither of you speak, but you can feel his eyes on your profile, studying your reaction to what just transpired.

You can't help but wonder which one Ari will choose—which life will change forever today, just as yours was when Bucky claimed you.

The SUV waits where you left it, engine idling. 

"What do you think of General Levinson?" Bucky asks, finally breaking the silence once the car begins to drive away. 

You choose your words carefully. “He seems calculating. Dangerous.”

"He is," Bucky confirms, satisfaction evident in his tone. "One of my most valuable assets during the takeover. His intelligence on your father's military was flawless."

The reminder stings, but you keep my expression neutral. "And now you're rewarding him with an omega."

Bucky's eyes narrow slightly. "I'm securing his loyalty. A mated alpha is a more predictable alpha."

"Is that what you would have wanted?" you ask, your voice softer, though you wish you could ask it with more bite, more coolness. "A perfectly trained omega from Whitecrest?"

His eyes meet yours, expression unreadable. "No."

The single word hangs between you, loaded with implication. Your pulse quickens as Bucky shifts closer, his metal hand sliding up to cup your jaw.

"No," he repeats, his voice lower. "I wanted you. Specifically you." 

The intensity in his eyes makes your breath catch. This isn't the calculated political maneuvering you've witnessed all day—there's something raw in his expression.

"Why?" you whisper, unable to stop yourself from asking the question that's haunted you since he first claimed you in the town square. 

His vibranium thumb brushes your bottom lip, the cool metal a stark contrast to the heat in his gaze. "Because you have fire. Those omegas back there—they've been conditioned to please any alpha, trained to anticipate every need." He leans closer, his breath warm against your skin. "But you have spirit. I knew it from all the reports and intelligence as I assembled my plans. You make me fight for your submission. It’s more satisfying to conquer you."

The admission sends a shiver through you. His words are both a compliment and a threat, acknowledging your strength while reminding you of his dominance. There's something darkly thrilling about being wanted not despite your upbringing but because of it. 

"You were aware not only that my father had a daughter, but you knew of me before the invasion," you state, more as a realization than a question.

Bucky's hand slides from your jaw to the nape of your neck, fingers tangling in your hair. "I knew everything about you. Your routines, your preferences, your strengths and weaknesses." His grip tightens slightly. "I studied you as thoroughly as I studied this territory's defenses." 

The revelation should disturb you more than it does. Instead, you find yourself leaning into his touch, drawn to the intensity of his focus. 

"And was I always part of your plan?" you ask, your voice barely above a whisper.

"As soon as I knew of the value you would bring to me as the omega at my side - so long as you yielded and offered yourself to me that first night. Otherwise I would have dispensed with you altogether,” he admits. 

You raise your chin slightly. “You'll never fully conquer me," you say, your voice quiet but firm. "Not really."

A slow smile spreads across Bucky's face, his eyes darkening with something between challenge and desire. "Is that so?"

"You can take my body, claim my territory, even force my submission," you continue, holding his gaze with newfound boldness. "But there will always be a part of me that remains my own."

Instead of anger, his expression fills with satisfaction. "That's exactly what I'm counting on, Omega." His metal hand slides from the back of your neck, and he draws two fingers over your collarbone. “But I know you’re shrewd enough to play your cards correctly, as well. You know my terms. You know I will not abide a betrayal or have you cross me.”

"Never," you agree, the word a solemn promise. "But that doesn't mean I won't challenge you."

His lips quirk upward. "I would expect nothing less." His fingers trail down your neck with a feather-light touch that belies his strength. "And you're learning quickly what happens to those who cross me." 

"I am," you acknowledge, the image of Price's execution still vivid in your mind. 

Bucky leans back against the leather seat, studying you with that penetrating gaze that seems to strip away every defense. "Tell me what you're thinking right now." 

You consider deflecting, but decide honesty might serve you better. "I'm thinking about what it means to be valuable to you." 

"Oh?" His interest is piqued, one eyebrow arching slightly. 

"Those omegas back there, they're valuable as possessions, as status symbols. Trained to perfection but ultimately interchangeable." You pause, gathering courage. "But you claim I'm valuable for my fire, my knowledge of this territory. Yet you never asked for my input and you publicly humiliated me in the council chamber today." Your voice remains steady despite the boldness of your words.

Bucky's expression shifts, his eyes narrowing slightly as he considers your statement. For a moment, you fear you've overstepped, but then his lips curl into an unexpected smile.

"You think I humiliated you," he says, not a question but an observation. "And yet, you responded. Your body betrayed what you want to deny."

Heat rises to your cheeks, but you refuse to look away. "That doesn't mean it wasn't a calculated move to establish dominance."

"Of course it was," Bucky acknowledges without hesitation. "But not just over you—over the council. They needed to understand exactly what I'm capable of." His hand returns to your thigh, the weight of it both comforting and possessive. "As for not asking for your input, I was testing you. I needed to see how you would conduct yourself in that council chamber."

"By using me as your plaything in front of your subordinates?" you challenge, unable to keep the edge from your voice.

A slow smile spreads across his features. "That wasn't the test, Omega. The test was watching how you absorbed information, how you analyzed each speaker, how your eyes tracked inconsistencies in their reports.”

His words surprise you. You hadn't realized he was paying such close attention to your reactions during the meeting. 

"I saw everything," he continues, voice dropping to a dangerous purr. "The way you tensed when Rumlow mentioned civilian casualties. How your eyes narrowed at the agricultural report. The subtle shift in your posture when the mining conditions weren't addressed." 

You feel suddenly exposed, as if he's peeled back your skin to examine what lies beneath. Had you been that transparent? 

"And I saw how you responded when I revealed the traitors," he adds, fingers tightening on your thigh. "The shock in your eyes, followed by anger, then calculation. You were already thinking about how to use that information." 

"You executed a man in front of me," you say quietly, the memory of Price's death still fresh. 

"I did," Bucky acknowledges without a trace of remorse. 

You blink, but remain silent, needing and waiting for him to elaborate.

"I needed you to see that I'm not your father," Bucky says, leaning closer until his face is inches from yours. "He hesitated when decisive action was required. He showed mercy to those who didn't deserve it. That's why he lost this territory—why he lost you."

The words sting, but you can't deny the truth in them. Your father's compassion, once his greatest strength, had ultimately become his weakness. 

"And now?" you ask, your voice barely above a whisper. 

"Now you understand exactly what kind of man you're bonded to." His eyes hold yours, unflinching. "I won't hesitate. I won't show mercy to those who betray me. But I will reward loyalty—especially yours." 

"If that's true, why the public display? Why use me that way in front of the council?”

"The council needed to see who holds power. Who owns you.”

Then his eyes darken even more. “And you enjoyed it as much as I did.”

You can’t lie about your body’s response, or what he had to have felt through your bond, so you only drop your gaze for a moment, chewing on the inside of your lip. 

"But did you notice what else happened in that meeting?"

Your eyes go back up to his, and you frown slightly, trying to follow his new point. 

"I did more than just establish my dominance," Bucky continues, his voice dropping to an intimate tone. "I revealed which council members had betrayed your father. I showed you exactly who sold you out." 

Understanding flows through you. "You wanted me to know." 

"Of course." His thumb traces small circles on your thigh. "You know knowledge is always power, Omega. Now you know who can never be trusted." 

The realization shifts something inside you. While you had been focused on the humiliation, on being used as a prop in his power play, he had simultaneously armed you with critical information. 

"And Price?" you ask, thinking of the man whose blood still stained the council chamber floor when you left. 

Bucky's expression hardens. "He lied directly to my face. But more importantly, he was the most vocal opponent of your father's policies regarding the southern district. He deliberately undermined infrastructure for his own gain. I cannot allow treachery to remain because I have plans for us, Omega. For this territory. For our future."

The possessive rumble in his voice when he says "our" sends an involuntary shiver down your spine. The SUV turns onto the private road leading to what you realize was once your family home. Evidently it’s the residence Bucky has now chosen as his domain. 

Although you moved out of the grand mansion into an apartment in the heart of the capital years before, you still came back frequently - routinely for Sunday dinners, some of which were just the family, some of which were state or diplomatic dinners - so this place is familiar to you, yet there are already differences now that Bucky has taken over.

The familiar oak tree-lined driveway remains, but the security presence has tripled. STRIKE team members patrol the perimeter where once there were only a handful of territorial guardsmen. The gardens your mother tended with such care have been partially reconfigured—some of the flowering bushes replaced with more functional, tactical layouts that offer less cover for potential intruders. 

As you approach the main entrance, you notice the family crest has been removed from above the massive double doors. In its place is a stark, stylized emblem—Bucky's symbol of authority. The sight of your family's symbol replaced sends a pang through your chest, but you keep your expression neutral. Another reminder that this is now his domain, not yours.

The SUV pulls to a stop at the front entrance, and Bucky steps out first, extending his hand to help you from the vehicle. His touch lingers as you stand beside him, looking up at what was once your family home. 

"Your things have been moved to the master suite," he informs you, leading you up the familiar stone steps. "I had your old apartment cleared out yesterday." 

The casual way he mentions dismantling your independent life catches you off-guard. "My apartment? All of it?" 

"You won't need it anymore," he states simply, as if discussing something as trivial as changing a lightbulb. "Everything of value has been relocated here." 

You want to argue, to demand what gave him the right, but you bite it back. 

He must sense that, because Bucky's hand slides to your nape, his fingers applying gentle pressure. "Remember what you've learned today," he murmurs, his lips close to your ear. "About power. About loyalty. About consequences."

You nod slightly, your inner omega finds the weight of his hand both comforting and controlling.

"Good," he says, satisfaction evident in his tone. "There will be more tests to come, Omega. More opportunities to prove your value."

His eyes linger on your face, searching for something only he can perceive. After a moment, he nods once, seemingly satisfied with what he finds there. 

"Tonight, we dine with several key territory leaders," he informs you as the massive front doors swing open. "I expect you to observe, not participate. Take note of who defers to whom, who speaks with authority versus who merely postures."

You step into the grand foyer, momentarily disoriented by the familiar-yet-altered space. The antique console table where your mother always displayed fresh flowers has been replaced by a sleek, modern piece. The warm, inviting colors have given way to a cooler, more austere palette. It's still undeniably elegant, but the home's character has been methodically stripped away. 

"I understand," you reply, your voice steady despite the turmoil inside. 

Security cameras now monitor every angle, discreetly installed but unmistakably present. Several of your father's favorite paintings have been replaced with stark, modern pieces.

The guards standing at attention, the staff who bow their heads as Bucky passes—this was once your world, and now you're merely an accessory within it.

A beta woman in a crisp uniform approaches and you recognize her immediately—Maria Hill, who has worked for your family for years. Her eyes meet yours for a fleeting moment before she addresses Bucky. "Governor Barnes, welcome home. Dinner will be served at six as requested."

"Thank you, Hill," Bucky replies, his hand landing at the small of your back. "We'll be in the study until then."

You walk with him through the hallways of what was once your home, noting each change with a pang of loss. The sitting room where your mother hosted her reading group now houses tactical maps and communication equipment. The small alcove where you used to hide with your younger brother and sister during childhood games of hide-and-seek has been converted into a security checkpoint. The warmth has been systematically excised, replaced with efficiency and function.

Bucky leads you to your father's study—now his—and closes the door behind you. The room has undergone the least change of any you've seen so far. The massive oak desk remains, though your father's comfortable leather chair has been replaced with a more modern, ergonomic design. The bookshelves still hold many of the same volumes, but you notice additions—military strategy texts, economic treatises, and several books on territorial governance from perspectives far more authoritarian than your father ever endorsed. 

"Sit," Bucky instructs, gesturing to one of the chairs facing the desk. 

You comply, settling into the familiar chair where you'd sat countless times during your father's governance lessons. Bucky doesn't take the seat behind the desk as expected.

Instead, your alpha circles behind you, his hands coming to rest on your shoulders. His thumbs press into the tense muscles at the base of your neck, working small circles against the knots that have formed there throughout the day.

"You're processing a lot today," he observes, his voice softer than it's been since the council meeting. "How are you feeling?" 

The question catches you off guard. It's disarmingly direct, almost... considerate. 

"I'm..." you begin, then pause, unsure how to answer. Truthfully? Strategically? "I'm overwhelmed," you finally admit, deciding honesty might serve you better than pretense. 

His fingers continue their work, finding pressure points that make you want to melt backward into his touch despite yourself. 

"Understandable," he acknowledges. "You've witnessed execution, betrayal, and the commodification of omegas. Tell me what you are thinking.”

"About what specifically?"

"Everything," he replies. "The council meeting. The betrayers. Levinson.”

His hands continue working the tension from your shoulders, making it difficult to maintain your guard. You hesitate for a moment, then decide that providing your honest assessment might demonstrate your value. 

"The council is divided—not just between your people and the old guard, but between those who genuinely care about governance and those who only care about their own power," you begin, organizing your thoughts as his fingers continue working the tension from your muscles. 

"The agricultural report was concerning. The drought is real, but the resistance isn't just about quotas—it's about trust. Those farmers were loyal to my father because he reduced their tax burden during the last drought cycle." 

Bucky's hands pause momentarily before resuming their massage. "Go on." 

"The mining situation in the east is worse than was reported. The production increase has likely come at the expense of safety protocols. There will be health consequences if that continues." You take a deep breath. "And Rumlow's security approach is creating more enemies than it's eliminating.”

Your alpha resumes his massage, working deeper into the knots at the base of your neck. "What else?"

"Levinson is dangerous," you continue, emboldened by his apparent interest. "The way he assessed the room, how he watched you—he's calculating what you can offer him versus what he might gain getting out now.”

Bucky's fingers pause momentarily. "Go on."

"The Whitecrest omegas..." You hesitate, but his fingers press more firmly at the base of your skull, silently urging you to continue. "They're valuable, but they're not what this territory needs right now. People will be afraid, confused. They need to see stability, not more changes and new faces from outside." 

His hands slide from your shoulders to cup your face, tilting your head back until you're looking up at him. His expression is unreadable, but his eyes hold an intensity that makes your breath catch. 

"Enough," he says softly, his thumbs brushing your cheekbones. "That's enough thinking from you today, Omega. Time for me to empty your head." 

Before you can process his words, he's pulling you to your feet and turning you to face him. His metal hand cups the back of your head while his flesh hand slides down to grip your waist. His mouth claims yours in a kiss that's nothing like the calculating displays from earlier. This is raw, primal—an alpha seeking to consume his omega. His tongue pushes past your lips, demanding entry that you can't help but grant, a whine escaping the back of your throat. 

His kiss is demanding, relentless, as if he's trying to devour every thought from your mind. You should resist—after everything you've witnessed today, everything you've learned about this dangerous man who's claimed you—but your body responds instinctively to his dominance. Your hands clutch at his shoulders, and you’re captive to his kiss, desperately clinging until he finally breaks it off, allowing you to catch your breath briefly. 

"I want you on your knees," he murmurs against your ear, his voice a velvet command that sends shivers racing down your spine. 

Your legs feel weak as you sink down before him, the plush carpet of your father's—no, Bucky's—study cushioning your knees. You've been in this room countless times, but never like this, never on your knees looking up at a man who has claimed both you and your territory. 

Bucky studies you, his eyes darkening as his flesh hand strokes your cheek. "So beautiful," he murmurs. "Even more so when you're being obedient." 

His thumb traces your bottom lip, applying gentle pressure until you part them. The pad of his thumb slides inside, pressing against your tongue. Instinctively, you close your lips around it, sucking lightly. 

A low growl rumbles from his chest as he watches you. His metal hand moves to his belt, unbuckling it with practiced efficiency. The soft hiss of his zipper being lowered makes your pulse quicken, your omega instincts responding to your alpha's arousal despite the complicated feelings swirling within you.

"You've been so good today," he murmurs, freeing his already hard cock. "So observant. So clever. Now I need that pretty mouth for something else. Time to surrender that brilliant mind of yours to pleasure instead of politics."

"I don't know if I can," you admit softly. "There's too much happening."

"You can," he assures you, his voice dropping to that commanding alpha timbre that resonates through your bones. "And you will."

He guides himself to your lips, the blunt head of his cock pressing insistently against them. "Open," he commands, his voice deepening with desire. 

You part your lips, allowing him entry. He slides in slowly at first, giving you time to adjust to his considerable size. His flesh hand cradles the back of your head, fingers strong and unforgiving as he guides you, fucking your mouth.

"That's it," he praises as you take him deeper. "Look at me," he commands, and your eyes lift to meet his. The intensity in his gaze makes your core clench with desire despite yourself. "I want to see those beautiful eyes while I use this pretty mouth."

His pace increases gradually, each thrust pushing a little deeper. Your hands instinctively move to his thighs, steadying yourself as he controls the rhythm. Tears spring to your eyes as he hits the back of your throat, but you don't look away, determined to meet his challenge. 

"Such a good omega," he praises, his voice rougher now. "Taking what your alpha gives you." 

The praise sends a flush of heat through you, your body responding to his words as much as his touch. You hollow your cheeks, sucking more firmly as he slides in and out of your mouth, and are rewarded with a deep groan that rumbles through his chest. You hollow your cheeks, drawing a hiss of pleasure from above.

"Good omega," he growls, his metal hand coming to rest against your cheek, the cool vibranium a stark contrast to the heat of your skin. "You're learning what I like." 

The praise sends an unexpected thrill through you. Your position is submissive, degrading even, yet there's a strange power in knowing you're bringing pleasure to this dangerous man who has claimed territory and omega alike.

Your knees begin to ache against the hard floor despite the carpet, but you focus on the task before you, determined to excel even at this. You take him deeper, relaxing your throat as much as possible, your eyes never leaving his.

"That's it," Bucky groans, his metal fingers cool against your flushed cheek. "You're made for this." 

His hips thrust forward more insistently now, and you struggle to maintain your composure as he pushes deeper. Your hands grip his thighs, feeling the powerful muscles flex beneath your fingers with each movement. 

"Look at you," he murmurs, his voice strained with pleasure. "The territory's princess on her knees, serving her alpha so beautifully." 

The words should humiliate you, but instead, they send a jolt of heat straight to your core. Your thighs press together, seeking relief. 

Your hands grip his thighs harder as he increases his pace, fucking into your mouth with more force now. The vibranium fingers against your cheek shift, tracing your stretched lips where they're wrapped around his cock. The action is both erotic and possessive.

"I'm going to fill that pretty mouth," he warns, his voice strained. "And you're going to swallow every drop like the good omega you are."

When he comes, it's with a guttural groan that seems to reverberate through his entire body. Hot spurts of his release flood your mouth, and you swallow obediently, your eyes never leaving his.

As his release tapers off, Bucky's grip on your hair loosens, his thumb caressing your cheek almost tenderly. His eyes remain locked on yours, watching as you swallow the last of his spend. There's something primal and possessive in his gaze that makes your inner omega preen despite the complexity of your situation. 

"Such a good girl," he murmurs, tucking himself back into his pants. "Come here." 

He pulls you to your feet and guides you to the leather couch against the wall. You expect him to sit and pull you onto his lap, but instead, he lays you down, positioning himself over you. His weight presses you into the soft leather as his mouth claims yours in a demanding kiss, tasting himself on your tongue. 

His hand slides up your thigh, pushing your skirt higher until his fingers find the dampness between your legs. A satisfied growl rumbles through him. 

"So wet for me," he murmurs against your lips, his fingers circling your entrance. "Even after everything you've seen today. Everything I've done." 

Two thick fingers slide inside you without warning, making you gasp. Your back arches as he curls them forward, finding that sensitive spot inside you with unerring precision. His thumb circles your clit, applying just enough pressure to make you writhe beneath him. 

"Alpha," you breathe, the word escaping before you can stop it. 

His smile is predatory. "That's right," he growls, working his fingers deeper. "Your alpha. The only one who will make you feel this way."

Your hips buck against his hand involuntarily, seeking more of the pleasure he's offering. His metal hand pins your wrists above your head, holding you in place as his flesh fingers work between your thighs. 

"Look at you," he continues, his voice a dark rumble that vibrates through your body. "Fighting yourself even now. Wanting to resist but your body knows what it needs." 

His fingers curl inside you, hitting that perfect spot that makes your vision blur at the edges. You bite your lip to stifle a moan, but Bucky shakes his head, his eyes intense on yours. 

"No, Omega. I want to hear you. Every sound, every cry belongs to me." 

He withdraws his fingers suddenly, making you whimper at the loss. Before you can process what's happening, he's moving down your body, positioning himself between your spread thighs. His hands grip your hips, holding you firmly in place as his mouth descends on your core. 

The first sweep of his tongue tears a cry from your throat. It's broad and flat, licking a path from your entrance to your clit. 

Your first orgasm crashes over you unexpectedly, your walls clenching around nothing as a cry tears from your throat. But instead of slowing, Bucky increases his pace, working you through the waves of pleasure until they begin to crest again.

"That's one," he says with satisfaction, watching your face contort with ecstasy. 

He returns to his ministrations with renewed vigor, his mouth latching onto your sensitive clit while his fingers press back inside you, curling to find that spot that makes you tremble. Your hands fly to his hair, tangling in his dark strands as the second orgasm builds rapidly on the heels of the first.

"Alpha, please," you gasp, not even sure what you're begging for. 

His only response is to suck harder, his fingers increasing their pace inside you. The second climax hits you even more powerfully than the first, your back arching off the leather couch as waves of pleasure crash through you. Your thighs try to close around his head, but his shoulders keep them spread wide, leaving you completely exposed to his relentless mouth. 

"That's two," he murmurs against your sensitive flesh, the vibration of his words sending aftershocks rippling through you. You're still trembling from the second orgasm when he slides a third finger inside you, stretching you further. The feeling is almost too much, but before you can adjust, his tongue is back on your clit, circling stubbornly.

"Please," you whisper, your voice trembling as he continues his merciless assault. This is not the first or second time he’s had you today. "It's too much." 

"No," he growls against your flesh. "It's not enough. Not nearly enough." 

His tongue flattens against your clit again, the pressure unrelenting as his fingers pump inside you. The dual stimulation is overwhelming, your body still quivering from your previous climaxes. You try to squirm away, but his metal arm locks across your abdomen, holding you firmly in place. 

"Alpha," you plead, tears gathering at the corners of your eyes. "I can't—" 

"You can," he interrupts, his voice commanding. "And you will. You'll take what I give you, Omega." 

The third orgasm builds with frightening intensity, a pressure so consuming you're almost afraid of it. Your hands clutch desperately at the leather beneath you, seeking something outside of him to anchor yourself against the storm of sensation. When it finally strikes, it's so intense that a sob escapes your throat, your entire body convulsing as pleasure borders on pain.

"Three," Bucky counts, satisfaction evident in his voice as he watches you fall apart beneath him. 

But he doesn't stop. His fingers continue their relentless rhythm inside you, his tongue circling your oversensitive clit with determined precision. Your body jerks involuntarily, trying to escape the overwhelming stimulation. 

"Please," you beg, tears now streaming freely down your cheeks. "I can't take any more. Please, Alpha." 

Bucky lifts his head just enough to meet your gaze, his eyes dark with dominance. "That’s the wrong request, Omega," he states simply. "It should be, ‘please make me come again? Please make me forget everything except who I belong to?’"

And the tone is an unmistakable alpha command. 

"Please make me come again, Alpha. Make me forget everything except who I belong to," you repeat, whimpering as the words tumble from your lips without conscious thought, your mind surrendering as your body already has.

A dark smile curves his mouth, satisfaction glinting in his eyes. "Good girl." 

He dives back between your thighs with renewed purpose, his tongue working your swollen clit with devastating precision. His three fingers pump into you relentlessly, stretching and stroking. Your thighs continue to tremble uncontrollably, muscles spasming as your body both fights against and surrenders to the onslaught of sensation.

The fourth orgasm builds impossibly fast, slashing through you with such intensity that you scream, your back arching sharply off the couch. Tears stream freely down your cheeks now, your body jerking with each wave of forced pleasure. 

"Four," Bucky murmurs against your thigh, his breath hot on your slick skin as he watches you convulse. But rather than grant mercy, he shifts positions slightly, his metal hand replacing his mouth on your clit, the cool vibranium providing a stark contrast to his hot tongue as it now delves inside you alongside his fingers. 

You're sobbing openly now, your body no longer your own as it responds to his relentless attention. Your hands push weakly at his shoulders, a token resistance that he ignores completely. The dual sensation of cool metal vibrating against your swollen bud while his tongue and fingers work your entrance has you spiraling toward a fifth climax that you're certain will shatter you completely. 

"Please, Alpha," you hiccup between sobs, your hips jerking involuntarily with each precise circle of his metal digit. "I can't—I can't take anymore."

But Bucky only growls against your flesh, the vibration sending another jolt through your oversensitized body. Your fifth orgasm crashes through you without warning, your muscles clenching so hard it's almost painful. A keening wail escapes your throat as your body jerks uncontrollably, every nerve ending raw and exposed.

"That's it," Bucky murmurs, his voice thick with satisfaction. His vibranium fingers continue their merciless circles against your overstimulated clit, the cool metal slick with your arousal. "Not done with you yet."

You're beyond words now, reduced to incoherent whimpers and sobs. Your body twitches violently with each deliberate stroke against your sensitive flesh. The leather beneath you is slick with sweat, your hair plastered to your tear-streaked face as you shake your head in wordless plea.

"Look at me," Bucky commands, his voice cutting through the haze of overstimulation.

Your eyes flutter open, struggling to focus on his face through your tears. His expression is a mixture of dominance and fascination, studying your complete surrender with clinical interest.

"This is what power looks like," he murmurs, "this is what I wanted. You completely undone. No politics. No calculations. Just pure feeling, mindless and gone for me.”

And he still doesn't stop, but you lose track of it all in the torture of too much. Your mind fractures, unable to process the overwhelming sensations. Time loses meaning—you could have been writhing beneath him for minutes or hours. Your body no longer feels like your own; it's just a vessel for the pleasure he forces upon you, wave after merciless wave.

You're dimly aware of your voice, raw from screaming, now reduced to broken whimpers. Tears stream freely down your temples into your hair. Your limp body jerks and reacts, but you have no more control of your limbs. 

Each touch of his tongue, each cruel twist of his metal fingers sends you spiraling through another dimension of sensation that your mind can no longer categorize as pleasure or pain.

"Alpha," you mouth the word, but no sound emerges from your ravaged throat. Your vision blurs, darkens at the edges. The room tilts sideways.

Through the haze, you feel Bucky's mouth at your bonding mark, teeth grazing the sensitive skin. The primal gesture anchors you momentarily before you slip under again. You're drowning in sensation, each new wave pulling you deeper.

"Mine," you hear him growl, the word filtering through layers of consciousness. "Completely mine now."

You can only surrender to the truth of his words before darkness claims you entirely.

When you come back to yourself, you're cradled against Bucky's chest, head resting over his shoulder, one arm around your back, and the other banded around your legs. 

"There you are," he murmurs, satisfaction evident in his tone as carries you up a flight of stairs. "Welcome back, Omega."

Your throat feels raw, your body utterly spent. You couldn't form words now if your life depended on it. Your mind is blissfully, terrifyingly empty—exactly what he wanted. 

Bucky carries you into the master bedroom—your parents' former room, now transformed into his domain. The familiar furnishings have been replaced with darker, more masculine pieces. The bed is massive, draped in charcoal gray linens that look impossibly soft.

He lays you gently on the bed, your body still trembling with aftershocks. The cool sheets feel like heaven against your overheated skin. Your limbs are heavy, mind still floating in that strange, disconnected space where thought is impossible.

"Stay," he commands softly, though the instruction is unnecessary—you couldn't move if you tried.

You can barely keep your eyes open as he methodically removes your clothing, piece by piece, until you're completely bare before him. Bucky’s eyes roam over your disheveled state. “Beautiful,” he murmurs, then leans down toward your face. 

Only instead of the kiss you’re expecting, his lips go to one of the bonding marks at the base of your neck. He kisses and licks at the place he first claimed you, and it soothes you in a way that you cannot reckon with. 

"Mine," he whispers against your skin, and something about the word feels different than before—almost tender in its possessiveness.

Bucky pulls away, his expression unreadable as he studies your face. Something shifts in his eyes—a momentary softness that disappears so quickly you wonder if you imagined it.

"Rest now," he says, voice low and commanding. "Dinner is in two hours. You'll need your strength."

Your eyes flutter shut and exhaustion claims you completely.

Just know that I melted my own brain with this one. Head now empty.

NEXT PART: Point of No Return

↠ Main Masterlist | Aspen's Ask Box | Field Guide to the Forest

I do not do tag lists, but FOLLOW @buckets-and-stories and TURN ON NOTIFICATIONS to be updated any time I publish a new work!

[elodieunderglass]

My sister's preschooler realized today that the build-it dinosaurs and vehicles use the same screw.

My sister's preschooler now has a walking train.

[images: both sides of a train engine toy assembled using big screws for small hands; in place of its wheels are four legs from at least three different dinosaur toys.]

(photos shared with the young engineer's mom's permission)

Everyone look at the walking train! @alexseanchai please direct my wholehearted praise for the walking train to the family of the young engineer.

[jpitha]

Logistics

Yes, when the humans arrived in the Coalition they brought themselves, and their ships, and their weapons. Those were all very impressive. They showed up with positively gigantic starships - easily two to four times larger than anyone else. When asked, the humans just looked at them, then back to us and said "why not make them big? Don't they look great?"

We could think of a few reasons, but they didn't seem to care about those.

But that's not what I want to talk about. Do you know what was the most amazing, galaxy changing paradigm they brought with them?

Containerization.

I'm serious! The first time I saw them field a colony ship my feathers ruffled and I turned my head in confusion. I was aboard the human ambassador's yacht with a few other Coalition administrators. We had come at the human's behest so they could demonstrate that they were taking our rules about colonizing seriously. Honestly, we probably wouldn't have cared. All they were interested in were planets Class F and lower. The ones with multiple biomes, the ones with heavy gravity, the ones with weather. We let them license the worlds for colonization cheap - ancestors, I think we even let them have the one with storms for free.

Anyway, they asked us to come and observe, and so we sent a few people out, me among them. I was a mid level clerk for the Innari embassy at the main Coalition station, so I was 'volunteered' to attend. It was boring, but it wasn't bad. Good food, a break from paperwork, and a chance to take it easy for a week.

On the second day, the colony ship arrived. It had Flashed in quote close to the planet, entered orbit, and had spent an hour setting itself up. One of the Sefigans looked at the human who was guiding us and asked what we were looking at, if we were just going to see a shuttle go back and forth for a week from the ship.

"A shuttle? Heavens, no. Just watch." and he did that cryptic smile without showing his teeth that they do when they realize they're about to show off.

Just then, while we were watching, the colony ship... flew apart. It wasn't destroyed, or rather it was, but it wasn't destructive. It had turned out that the entire colony ship was thousands upon thousands of boxes. The assembled crowd made surprised noises as the ship quickly disappeared into rectangles all the same shape and size. They disconnected from each other and fell through the atmosphere to the planet's surface. Within a tenth of a cycle, they were all down, and had begun unfolding.

Some were buildings, some contained supplies, and some even had vehicles. As we watched through remote cameras and entire city had sprung into being, where once there was only a joining of two rivers. The colony ship was completely gone - the box that was the command module had set itself up in the center of the city and we watched as the overlay changed from "Ship Command" to "City Command" as it touched down.

Before our surprise could be properly registered it happened again. Another colony ship flashed in and flew apart and landed. And again. And again. In the space of one solar day, three full cities were set up and automated construction vehicles - also the size of the containers - had begun trundling between the cities, setting up utilities and roads. By the time the humans arrived in thirty solar days, there would be places to live, work, and entertain for fifty thousand beings.

Honestly, if that's all they used it for, it would be impressive. But they made everything able to fit into those boxes. When they ordered supplies from human manufactories they ordered them by the container. During the next resupply one of the containers would detach and be delivered, and sure enough, packed floor to ceiling would be the widgets they ordered.

They built reactors that fit the container, so that no matter where they went or what they were doing, it was simple to have more power than one needed.

They even built weapons that fit into the containers. I'm not talking about hand and small arms, but full anti starship missile batteries. They would take one of their boxes, stick it to the side of a ship or a station - it didn't even have to be human made - and out would fold a missile battery, loaded and ready. Next to it they'd plop a reactor container and a matter printer container and in the time it took you to decide what to eat for their midday meal - lunch - they would be able to defend against an attack of nearly any kind.

When called on to aid during disasters, they brought them too. They would bring a modified version of their colony package, tuned for what kind of disaster had happened. Extra hospitals, extra living space, extra power, it didn't matter, because it all fit into those damned boxes.

The other Coalition peoples had to adopt the humans containers, it was too foolish not to. Human ships would only haul containers. They didn't list the ships capacity by hauling weight, they listed them by the number of containers they could haul. If you wanted to sell to humans, you had to fit your wares into a container.

Some other peoples - the Sefigans specifically, but a few others as well - attempted to introduce their own container specifications, but they were almost never adopted. The humans had the infrastructure to haul their own containers, and unless the others fit into the system they just rejected them outright. "Too complex to add" they said. "Just use ours; here have a few for free." They gave away containers like they were atmosphere. When items were shipped from human manufactories they told the recipient to just keep the container "in case you need to ship anything else."

Before too long, all the Coalition was using human containers. The Sefigans complained that they were too large, the Gren complained they were too small, and we Innari looked at the containers with an eye towards economy. We felt they were far overbuilt. We tried to make our own, out of much lighter materials but whenever they were added to a human system, they would be immediately ejected - usually with large dents or bends in them. "Stick to the specs" they'd say. "Our system requires them all to be the same."

Without firing a shot, the humans took over one of the most important and overlooked parts of our entire system. Everyone uses their containers now, it's just impossible to find a shipper to move material without them.

[delicatebarness]

bridges to burn | prologue

Summary: You arrive at the Avengers Compound to manage your uncontrollable Extremis powers. As you navigated the new environment, you clash with your assigned babysitter/bodyguard, Bucky Barnes.

Warning: MCU Spoilers. Iron Man 3. Intense Emotional Conflict. Superpowers and Uncontrollable Abilities. Parental Concern and Pressure. Family Tension. Emotional and Physical Heat.

Word Count: 1103

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A/N: Oh look, another.

BTB Tags: - Let me know if you'd like to be tagged in this serious.

Everything: @hallecarey1 | @pattiemac1 | @uhmellamoanna | @scraftsku35 | @ozwriterchick | @sapphirebarnes | @rach2602 | @thetorturedbuckydepartment | @mrsnikstan | @lanabuckybarnes

Touching down at the Avengers Compound, the Quinjet’s engines hummed softly as they powered down. You stepped off the lowering ramp and took in the sprawling complex. The building was an impressive blend of sleek modern design and cutting-edge technology, lush greenery surrounded the wide-open spaces. The peaceful landscape contrasted against the bustling chaos of the city, where you spent most of your life. 

Your dad, Tony Stark, stood waiting for you near the entrance, concern, and determination etched across his aging features. The familiar scent of motor oil and cologne filled your senses as he enveloped you in a quick hug. His grip around you was firm, silently reassuring you that he was there for you. 

“Welcome home, kid,” he said, a small smile tugging at his lips. However, his eyes revealed the worry he had tried to mask. “Come on, let me show you around.” 

Following him through the compound, you passed training rooms that were filled with state-of-the-art equipment, common areas where you caught glimpses of some familiar faces, and the impressive hangar with various vehicles and aircraft. The building buzzed with activity, yet there was still a sense of order and purpose. 

Finally, you reached Tony’s sanctuary, his lab. The place you knew he felt most at home. You marveled at the array of gadgets and projects scattered around, as you followed his gesture for you to step in. Screens displayed holographic schematics, while robotic arms moved with precision, a new creation being assembled. The faint hum of machinery was a comforting backdrop. 

“And, this is where the magic happens,” Tony said, pride touching his voice. Watching you take it all in, his lips played a small smile. “But, before you get too comfortable, there’s something we need to talk about.” 

Raising your eyebrow suspiciously, you waited for him to continue. Looking uncharacteristically nervous, he ran a hand through his hair. 

“I know things have been… rough since the incident,” he began, trying carefully to choose his words. He leaned against a workbench, fixing his gaze on a point somewhere behind you, crossing his arms over his chest. “And, I know you’re struggling to control the Extremis,” he trailed off, pausing before he continued, “but, we can’t have another accident like that. Not again.” 

The memory of the uncontrollable heat coursing through your veins caused you to flinch. The sight of the flames, the smell of burning wood, the panic in the firefighter’s voice as they tried to contain the damage. Since it saved your life as a child, you lived with the Extremis virus. Your mother, Maya Hansen’s legacy, turned you into a ticking time bomb. 

“I know, Dad,” you sighed, shifting your weight from one foot to the other. “I’ll do better.” 

Shaking his head, Tony pushed off the workbench and stepped closer to you. “It’s not about doing better. It’s about getting help. Which is why I’ve arranged for someone to keep an eye on you.” 

The door to the lab opened, snapping your attention away from your dad before you could protest. And in walked, Bucky Barnes– The Winter Soldier. You had seen him in action and heard the ghost stories, but meeting him in person… that was different. He was imposing, a steely gaze seemingly assessing every detail of the room, and you. As he approached, his movements were fluid, almost predatory.

“Tin-Man, this is my daughter,” Tony spoke as he gestured toward you. “She’s going to be staying here for a while. And… you’re going to be looking out for her.” 

Bucky’s eyes narrowed slightly toward you, and you could see in his piercing gaze that he was as thrilled about this arrangement as you were. “I was expecting a kid,” he said bluntly, a hint of annoyance carrying in his voice. Crossing his arms over his chest, the metal of his arm caught against the light. 

“No, I’m not a kid,” you snap back, matching his posture. “And, I don’t need a glorified babysitter. Unless,” you paused, shoot Bucky a playful smirk. “You’re here to tuck me in and read me a bedtime story?” 

Tony stepped between you, holding up a hand to forestall any pending argument. “Easy, both of you. This isn’t up for debate. Barnes’ here to help, whether you like it or not.” 

You glare at Bucky, who returns the look with an equal intensity. “Fantastic,” you said, your voice dripped with sarcasm. “My very own bodyguard, don’t expect me to make this easy for you.”

Smirking, Bucky’s eyes filled with amusement almost as if he was accepting a challenge. “Wouldn’t dream of it, Princess.” 

“Don’t call me that,” you snap, your iris’ blazed with anger, a burning orange glow. 

His smirk never faltered. “Whatever you say… Princess.” 

Watching the exchange, Tony’s expression changed to one of concern and exasperation. His face, usually composed, now showed signs of strained patience. Rubbing a hand over his face, he tried to stifle a sigh. “Alright, both of you,” he injects, his voice filled with frustration. “This isn’t a battlefield. Can we at least try to keep it professional?” 

You took a glance at Tony, then back at Bucky, who still had a smirk plastered across his face, enjoying the friction. Tony continued, his tone firm but weary. “I get that you two won’t see eye to eye, but let’s keep the drama to a minimum. We’re here to make sure things don’t  go up in flames, literally.” 

Squaring off with Bucky, you took another step closer. The heat between you both was almost tangible. “I mean it, Winter Soldier. I’m not some dame in distress that you get to boss around.” 

Leaning in, his voice was a low, taunting whisper. “And I’m not some nanny here to hold your hand.” 

The tension crackled between you, and you noticed how his eyes were cold and calculating, with a flicker of something else– something that mirrored the heat in your own. You weren’t sure if it was anger or something more, but whatever it was, made your heart race. 

“Good,” you retorted, sarcasm stayed laced within your words. “I wouldn’t want you thinking you could handle me.” 

His eyes locked with yours, his smirking only growing. “Trust me, Princess, I can handle anything you throw at me.” 

Scoffing, you rolled your eyes, yet you couldn’t help but feel the thrill of his challenge rush through you. “We’ll see about that.” 

As you turned to leave, you felt his gaze burning into your back. This wasn’t over– far from it. And somehow, the thought of that excited you as much as it infuriated you.

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