#command input needed

[rabbits-of-negative-euphoria]

I really think a lot of pastors need some kind of "devil's advocate" advisor who listens to their sermon, and then tells them how their sermon will be interpreted by a congregant with a progressive bias. not so that the pastor will change that sermon, but so the pastor recognizes the need to occasionally get specific.

[thefrogknight]

I kind of want to play that expedition 33 game but I really don't like the mario rpg tap a at the right time mechanics in rpgs and it seems like that game leans so far into it

[valiant-portabella-pirkko]

One of the little bits I don't think I've ever talked about with the Tideturners is that, like, a big theme with how it handles Commanders is not that 'they're the Main Character' and rather that 'before the Commander was the Commander, they were just someone who wanted to make a difference in the world.' And thus, by extension, 'ANYONE could have been the Commander, they're really just an ordinary person whose greatest strength is in the bonds they forge with others.' Even at their strongest, the Commander is still working together with a full team to accomplish their goals. The only difference between them and any other OC is that they were in the right place at the right time to make a specific difference, and the end result is that they became someone people could look up to and rely on. Ruju is, in many ways, the perfect illustration of that.

He's not the ideal hero. He's not some grand legend. He's kind of a dork, he was BARELY passable in asuran society, he has a hot temper and says stupid things that he'll have to make amends for. He has a whole history of mistakes to live up to and improve from. In a timeline where he zigged when he should've zagged, he just became some guy in the Pact helping with tech support instead. In another, he became a scourge that would burn his own world to the ground. The odds that he would become the Commander were 1 out of 3. And if you broaden that scope even more to include the multiverse as a whole, those odds drop to an absolutely microscopic percentage.

Within their own world, the Commander is someone important. But when you take them out of that world, and place them into a much broader perspective, they're just one of many-- another face in the Mists War, no different from any other. In another timeline, nobody is going to know who they are-- because there, they're not the Commander. Someone else took that role, not because they were better or more important or more qualified in any way, but because they were there when this other Commander wasn't and that's all there is to it. They weren't there, so someone else was instead.

The Commander could've been just about anyone. And because of that, anyone could've been the Commander. One of the big goals I want to explore is the idea that even characters who didn't share the same experiences can still stand side-by-side with those who did, because it's not about what you've done but about what you want to do in the future. None of them can succeed on their own.

But, together, they all just might stand a chance.

[krawdad]

Imagine the look on my face when I realized that imaginary piano but with a button accordion key layout I made up is already a real thing

[lucanderie]

Still need to mull this over some more, but it's very intriguing how much player-defying Kris proves themselves physically capable of this chapter.

They maliciously comply with our exact wording when asked to turn a doorknob. They cover their mouth midway through a sentence. When asked to say Berdly's name, they repeat themselves loudly in shock. They do PLENTY of physical actions or gestures unprompted, such as kneeling down and touching Ralsei when only prompted to talk, pushing Susie out of harm's way for the second time, giving her their knife with a flourish, laughing or nodding to clarify a statement... as well as their unprompted hijinks at the church. They act by themselves both in the spur of the moment and premeditated, in both low-stakes interactions and highly emotional, instinctive reactions. It seems like they're capable of doing any emoting, physical gesturing, or creative prompt interpretations they so desire apart from a) speaking, b) when directly commanded to do something else and c) in many weird route sequences (will circle back to this). They know entire commands word for word before they execute them, and they are aware enough of the fact that we have goals and what those goals may be to actively conspire against us. Kris knows our "rules".

This is extremely interesting because we saw very little of this in the previous chapters- leading us to believe Kris had basically zero input on Dark-World happenings, and had less understanding of their own situation then say, Ralsei did. But here, Kris isn't just getting more clever about or more accustomed to defying us- they're proving progressively more capable of just doing things of their own volition that any possessed kid who was randomly dropped into this situation with no warning or context would not wait two days to try.

Combined with the fact that from the beginning, they defy us to limit what we see long before they defy what we actually force them to do, (even when they clearly don't like doing it!), and that there's precedent for a character's mindset determining the player's level of control with Susie, it's seeming more and more like Kris is purposefully limiting themselves in earlier chapters. They have a vested interest in "playing the part", coming across to either us or someone else like they have less agency than they do, and they get progressively more open about the amount of defiance that they are capable of.

This is just, a fascinating jump in Kris's amount of agency! At the very least, they may know a similar amount of meta-info to even Ralsei. It changes some of their earlier actions from purely-forced to compliant. And there's a lot of (non-evil, you guys) reasons they would do this- they're probably at least, (at this point), afraid of some kind of retribution from us or their co-conspirators. They want to stay ahead of us by hiding their agency, they may not be comfortable enough with themselves to show express in certain instances... And this changes their defiant actions from things that they are allowed to do into things they are willing to risk doing- saving Susie twice, not hurting Ralsei's feelings, comforting Noelle, slorking down those juice cups like they're NOTHING- all little risks they're willing to take.

This just leaves the weird route- which may either be a route where the player simply gains more control over Kris, or maybe the "proceed" commands could be more general and therefore more inclusive. Or Kris could be initially, willing to play along with freezing the Darkners in order to achieve their goal, to bide their time, and once they realize how fucked up we can get it's too late.

I don't know. I'm definitely missing things, but I just love how much more Kris we have and are eventually going to get.

[tsunaso]

HEAR ME OUT

Aventurine and his partner have been together for a while when they somehow try working through Aventurine’s past trauma by showing him what a true master is like (reader)

Note - heavy bdsm, master/slave, anything else you’d like but I would prefer this being a healthier one so not non/con or forced

Thank you! 💖💖

“LET ME SHOW YOU WHO I AM”

pairing. Sub!Aventurine x Top!male reader

synopsis. In where Aventurine finally submits on his own terms, he learns what it means to be touched without being taken. — 4.3k

warnings. mdni, nsfw, amab reader, master/slave kink, collaring kink, light bondage, fingering, blowjob, handjob, overstimulation, begging, dirty talk, praise kink, degradation kink, subspace, aftercare, safe word use, past trauma, discussions of past abuse, implied SA (not graphic), hurt/comfort

The room was quiet.

Not sterile. Not cold. It smelled faintly of lavender and wax polish—warm light spilling from a shaded lamp. The blinds were drawn. The door was locked.

Aventurine stood in the center of the room like a model in a glass case, posed. Perfect. Still. He had removed his gloves first. Then his rings. Then his coat. Every motion methodical. Almost clinical.

You’d seen him negotiate with CEOs more relaxed than this.

You sat on the edge of the couch, legs slightly parted, arms resting on your knees, watching him like he was something fragile. Not in the way that meant he’d break—but in the way that meant he already had, at some point, and learned to glue himself together into someone flawless.

And he was flawless. That was the problem.

"You're not breathing," you said quietly.

Aventurine blinked. Then inhaled like he forgot that he needed to. A short, clipped breath. He forced a smile. "I'm just… preparing."

"For what?"

He paused. "To give you what you want."

You let that sit. Let him feel it.

Then you stood—slow, controlled—and stepped into his space.

"Look at me."

He did. Carefully. He always looked carefully, like his gaze was a scalpel and he was afraid to cut too deep.

You reached out, brushing your knuckles against his jaw. He didn’t lean into it. He didn’t flinch either. He simply absorbed the touch like it was something he had to endure—an input to be processed, not felt.

“I want you to listen,” you said. “And I want you to listen as Aventurine. Not as someone performing. Not as a client trying to impress me. As you.”

His throat worked as he swallowed. “…I’m listening.”

“I’m not asking you to submit because I want to dominate you.”

He stiffened.

“I’m asking you to submit because I want to keep you safe.”

A silence followed. Longer this time.

You let your hand fall from his jaw and gently, deliberately, took his hand in yours. You turned it palm-up—his fingers were smooth, trembling ever so slightly.

You pressed a kiss to the inside of his wrist.

“That’s the only reason,” you said. “Everything else—the commands, the structure, the rules… those are tools. Not punishments. Not games. They're ways to show you something you weren’t allowed to believe.”

He stared at you, eyes flickering. “Which is?”

“That being owned can feel like being protected.”

His lips parted—then closed again. He didn’t speak.

But he was still listening.

So you guided him to the couch. You sat down first, then tugged him forward by the hand until he was kneeling between your legs. Not to humble him—to center him.

"Now," you murmured, letting your fingers brush along his throat. “Let’s make something clear before we go further.”

Aventurine swallowed again. You felt it beneath your fingertips.

"You are mine only if you choose to be. And that choice doesn’t disappear just because you're in a collar or calling me Master."

His breath hitched. Slightly.

"You have a safeword. And you will use it."

You felt him tense—but it wasn’t fear. It was confusion.

“Why?” he asked softly. “Do you think I’ll regret it?”

“No,” you said. “I think someone else made you believe you weren’t allowed to.”

He froze.

And there it was.

That flicker. That twitch beneath the surface. You saw it behind his eyes—how he wanted to deflect, wanted to throw on that trademark smirk and laugh you off, pretend none of it reached him.

But it did.

Because the first time you called him "slave," he hadn’t flinched. But he hadn’t melted either. He had looked like someone waiting to be hurt. Obedient, yes—but not present.

You didn’t want that again.

“I don’t want obedience like that,” you whispered.

His lashes flicked up. His eyes were wet—but not crying.

You kissed the space between his brows. “I want your devotion. Your trust. Not your fear.”

He went still.

“…Then I don’t know how to be yours,” he said softly.

You tilted his chin up.

“That’s okay,” you said. “I’ll teach you.”

　　　　　　　　　　　　　　𓆩♡𓆪

The collar was black. Supple leather, lined in deep velvet. Not flashy. Not harsh. Nothing sharp or ornamental. It wasn’t a trophy. It was a promise.

You fastened it slowly around Aventurine’s throat, adjusting the buckle until it sat snug against his skin, resting in the hollow between his collarbones. His breathing had grown shallower with every click, every brush of your fingers. But he didn’t pull away.

He didn’t stop you.

And now—now he knelt.

He looked beautiful like that. Not just in the aesthetic sense, though he always had a way of appearing curated, even when undone. No—this was deeper. He looked like something offered.

The room was low-lit. Heavy drapes. No mirrors. No performance. Just you and him, framed in candlelight and silence. Your voice was the only thing allowed to break it.

“You’re trembling.”

His eyes flicked up, fast. Shame tightening his jaw before he could stop it.

“I’m not—”

“You are,” you said gently. “And that’s okay.”

He exhaled like the air had been trapped in his chest for years.

You reached out, brushing his hair from his forehead, slow. He didn’t lean into it, but he didn’t pull back. Still learning. Still testing the depth of the space you’d carved open between you.

“I want to hear you say your safeword.”

“…Now?”

“Yes.”

His lips parted, then closed again. A flicker of pride, of resistance. Not defiance—just fear dressed in finery.

You tilted his chin up, thumb dragging along the edge of his jaw.

“Say it for me, Aventurine.”

“…Citrine.”

The word hung in the air. Soft. Almost delicate. Like it didn’t belong in his mouth.

“Good,” you murmured. “That word is power. Not weakness.”

You saw it flash in his eyes. That old wiring. That ache. The way he’d been taught that power only came through performance or control, through being sharper, cleverer, faster.

And now here you were, asking him to surrender.

You reached for his shirt. Silk, crisp, fitted. The kind of thing he wore like a second skin. You undid the buttons slowly, not ripping or demanding, but unwrapping him like something valuable. Something earned.

By the time you slid it off his shoulders, his breath had quickened again.

“Color?” you asked softly.

He blinked. “Huh?”

You smiled. “Give me your color.”

“…Green.”

Safe. Uncertain, but safe.

You trailed your fingers down his chest—bare, smooth, too still.

“I want to see you move when I touch you. Not freeze.”

He swallowed hard.

You leaned in, lips brushing just beneath his ear. “You don’t have to be perfect here. You just have to be mine.”

He shivered.

“…Yes, Master.”

There it was. That subtle quake beneath the surface. Not fear. Relief.

You reached for the tie you’d laid on the bed earlier—rich crimson silk, soft and long. A blindfold, if needed. A restraint, if wanted. But tonight, just a tether. You looped it gently around his wrists behind his back—not tight. Just a suggestion.

“Sit back on your heels.”

He obeyed.

You let the silence stretch, letting him feel the leash of your presence even without a word. Your gaze burned into him—watching the way his chest rose and fell too fast, the way his fingers twitched behind him, even restrained.

Then you spoke. Low. Commanding. Steady.

“Say it.”

He blinked, caught off guard. “Say… what?”

“Who you are.”

His throat bobbed.

You took a step forward, letting your fingers trail beneath the collar at his throat.

“Say it, Aventurine. Who do you belong to?”

“…You.”

“That’s not enough.”

He shuddered.

“I belong to you,” he whispered. “I’m… I’m your slave.”

The words cracked on the edge of something old—something raw.

And you knew. That this wasn’t the first time he’d said it. But it was the first time he wasn’t punished for saying it wrong. The first time he wasn’t being used like a toy to be broken and left behind.

This was the first time he said it and wasn’t afraid.

You stepped around him slowly, trailing your hand across his bare shoulder as you did.

“You’re mine,” you said, voice smooth as heat. “Because you asked to be. Because I said yes. And now… I’m going to show you what that means.”

You stopped behind him, let your hand drop lower, brushing the curve of his spine.

“You’re going to listen.”

Your hand slid lower—over the waistband of his slacks, down to his thigh.

“You’re going to obey.”

You knelt beside him now, brushing your lips over his temple.

“And if I touch you and you shake, I’ll hold you.”

He let out a small sound—too raw to name. You felt his breath stutter. His entire body leaned just slightly into yours. Like the tension in his shoulders had finally started to give.

“Color?” you asked, voice warm.

“…Green,” he whispered.

You smiled.

“Good slave.”

His eyes fluttered shut. His lips parted. And for the first time since you’d collared him, Aventurine didn’t look composed.

He looked free.

　　　　　　　　　　　　　　𓆩♡𓆪

You guided him onto the bed slowly. Not forced. Not posed. You didn’t bend him—you invited him. And he followed.

The sheets were dark—deep maroon silk, soft enough to slide against bare skin without a sound. The collar caught the light in a subtle gleam as Aventurine lowered himself down, legs folded beneath him, arms still behind his back. You sat in front of him, letting the room fall to quiet.

He was breathing a little too fast again.

You reached out, cupping his jaw in one hand. His lashes fluttered.

“Color?”

“…Green,” he whispered.

Your thumb stroked his cheek. “You’re doing beautifully, treasure.”

His breath hitched again, this time from something that almost sounded like relief.

You leaned in and kissed him. Soft. Just once. And when you pulled away, you saw the dazed flicker in his eyes.

You didn’t ask for more yet. You just started touching him—slow strokes of your fingers over his chest, his arms, his thighs. Mapping. Worshipping. Letting him feel like something sacred.

“You’ve been holding yourself together for so long,” you murmured, tracing the hollow of his hipbone. “You don’t have to anymore.”

Aventurine’s body twitched under your touch, heat flashing across his face. He was already hard—aching against the front of his slacks, pulse pounding through him in quiet, desperate waves.

You kissed his collarbone, then lower. “I want to see what you look like when you come apart.”

He made a noise—small, breathy.

“I want to see how messy I can make you.”

Another whimper. This one sharper.

You undid the button on his slacks. Pulled the zipper down with slow, steady fingers.

"You’ve kept yourself so clean," you said. "So controlled."

You slid his pants down, along with his briefs. His cock sprang free, flushed red, already leaking.

"But this isn’t clean," you whispered, wrapping your hand around the base. “This is filthy. Needy. And it belongs to me.”

He shivered violently. You felt his knees twitch beneath him.

“You’re mine, Aventurine.”

He nodded. “Y-Yes, Master.”

You pumped him slowly—light pressure, thumb teasing over the slit. You kissed down his thigh as you worked, feeling the tension begin to fracture.

"That’s it," you whispered, lips brushing his inner thigh. “Breathe for me, pretty boy.”

He did. He tried. He was panting now, head tilted back, fingers clenched behind him like he didn’t know where else to hold the sensation.

“Such a good thing,” you crooned. “So obedient. So sweet. So ready to break.”

Your tongue flicked over the tip. He jerked—gasped.

"Color?" you murmured against him.

“…Green,” he rasped. “F-fuck—green—”

You hummed in approval, then dragged your tongue up his shaft, slow, tasting every drop he’d spilled.

"Look at you," you whispered, mouth just above his cock. "So wet already. You’d let me ruin you with just my tongue, wouldn’t you?"

He moaned—loud.

So you took him in. Not all the way. Just the head. Just enough to pull a shudder from his hips before you pulled off again.

“Not yet,” you murmured, hand stroking him again, firmer. “You don’t get to cum until you beg.”

You leaned up, lips brushing his ear.

“And not like a businessman,” you whispered. “Not like a negotiator. Like a whimpering little thing.”

His cock twitched in your fist.

"Say it."

“I—”

"Say what you are.”

“…Your p-pet,” he gasped.

You squeezed.

"Not good enough."

“I’m your—your toy—your slut—”

"Good," you growled. "Getting closer."

You tugged his head back by the collar, made him look at you.

"You’re mine, aren’t you?"

“Yes—yes, I’m yours—please, Master—please let me cum—"

And then he choked on a sound. His whole body jerked.

And the word fell from his lips:

“Yellow.”

You froze.

Not in fear. Not in failure.

In readiness.

Your hand left his cock instantly. You released the collar. Your voice softened.

“Hey.” You cupped his cheek. “You did perfect. You’re safe.”

His breathing was erratic. His eyes were glossy. But he wasn’t panicked. Not quite. Just too much. Overwhelmed. Drenched in sensations he’d never let himself feel before.

“I didn’t want to stop,” he said, voice breaking. “It just—just hit too fast—”

You nodded. Kissed his temple. Held his jaw steady.

“You did everything right,” you whispered. “I’m proud of you.”

He shivered. A small sound leaked from his throat—frustration. Shame. Something old.

You held him.

“You said yellow,” you murmured. “Not red. That means we slow down. We breathe. We check in.”

You reached for the silk tie around his wrists, undoing it gently.

He was trembling now.

And when he whispered, “I’m sorry,” you cut him off immediately.

“Don’t apologize,” you said. “Not for taking care of yourself. Not with me.”

He went quiet. Eyes searching yours.

“…So we can still—?”

You smiled.

“We’re going to continue. If you want to. And this time?”

You leaned in, kissed him slow, deep, open-mouthed.

“I want you to give me your surrender.”

　　　　　　　　　　　　　　𓆩♡𓆪

He was still shaking when you brought him back to the bed.

Not from fear. Not from regret. From how much it was.

He let you hold him without asking. Let you kiss the top of his head, run your fingers down the back of his neck, cradle him in your lap like something precious. And when your hand slid to his thigh again—he opened his legs without hesitation.

“I want you inside me,” he whispered. “Please.”

Your fingers traced the line of his inner thigh, featherlight. “You sure?”

His breath caught.

Then, “Yes, Master.”

You smiled, leaned in, and kissed the side of his mouth. “Then I’ll give you what no one else ever did.”

He blinked, eyes fluttering.

“What’s that?”

You kissed his throat, tongue dragging over the edge of the collar.

“Time.”

You laid him out like he was something sacred—chest to the sheets, legs parted, cheek resting against a silk pillow. He looked wrecked already. Hair wild, skin flushed, cock twitching against his stomach. He still had the collar on.

Your hand ran down his back slowly, fingers trailing the curve of his spine. You watched his hips twitch in anticipation.

And then you whispered, “I’m going to stretch you open now.”

Aventurine shuddered.

“Not like them,” you added, voice low and warm. “Not fast. Not hard. Not careless.”

You pressed a kiss to the small of his back.

“Like this.”

Your hand slid between his legs, parting them more. You took your time with the lube—warm, slick, worked between your fingers before you ever touched his hole. You let your thumb rest against the rim, not pushing, just being there.

“Breathe for me,” you whispered. “Color?”

“Green,” he rasped. “Fuck, I’m green—just—please.”

You slid one finger in. Slowly. No resistance. Just heat. Just a shaky, desperate moan beneath you.

“That’s it,” you murmured. “That’s my good boy.”

He gasped into the pillow, his whole body tensing—then softening.

"You're so tight," you praised. "So soft inside. You were made for this."

You curled your finger, watching the way he arched, hips twitching.

“M-Master—”

You hummed, kissing the dip of his back.

“I know. It’s good now, isn’t it?”

He nodded, whimpering.

You took your time. You didn’t rush the second finger. You didn’t stretch him to watch him squirm—you stretched him because you wanted him to be ready. You wanted to give his body the chance to welcome you.

Not endure you.

Aventurine was panting now. His cock leaked freely onto the sheets. Every twist of your fingers sent a sob through him.

“You’re doing so well,” you whispered. “Letting me open you. Letting me feel how warm you are inside. This hole is mine now, isn’t it?”

He moaned—wrecked, high, humiliated.

“Yes, Master—it’s yours—just yours—”

You slipped in a third finger, carefully, watching his back arch as he cried out.

But he didn’t say yellow.

He didn’t say stop.

He pushed back.

You grinned.

“Oh, you’re greedy now,” you murmured against his ear, one hand reaching around to grip his leaking cock. “You want it all, don’t you?”

He whimpered. Nodded. Twitched in your hand.

"Say it."

“P-please,” he sobbed. “Please fill me—break me—fuck me full—I want to be yours inside—please, I need your cock—”

You laughed—low, hot, proud.

“Oh, my sweet little slut.”

He gasped—choked on it.

You leaned down, kissed the back of his neck. Then whispered, “You like being called that now, don’t you?”

“…Y-yes—”

“You like being my toy. My slave. My obedient little hole.”

His whole body seized.

“F-fuck—!”

You pulled your fingers out—slow, careful, teasing.

He sobbed at the loss.

You lined yourself up, pressed the tip against his stretched, slick entrance.

He pushed back instantly.

"Greedy thing," you growled. "Beg for it."

“Please, Master—please—fuck me—ruin me—make me your cumdump—please—”

And you gave him exactly what he asked for.

You sank in.

All the way.

Slow. Measured. No brutality. No rush. You slid into him inch by inch, letting him feel it, letting him open around it, letting the stretch burn sweet and thick as your cock filled his aching hole.

Aventurine gasped—his voice a cracked moan as his body trembled beneath yours.

“Oh, f-fuck—” he choked out, knuckles white as they dug into the sheets.

You leaned down, one arm braced beside his head, the other gripping his hip tight, keeping him spread open as your cock bottomed out, balls resting snug against his skin.

“There it is,” you whispered into his ear. “Feel that? That’s me, inside you.”

He whimpered. You felt the clench around you—tight, slick, hungry.

“This is what you needed all along. Not a man who takes. A man who fucks you like he owns every inch.”

You pulled back—slowly—and thrust in again, long and deep, your cock dragging against the sweet spot that made his legs shake.

He moaned—loud, broken. His cock throbbed untouched against the sheets.

You kept the rhythm slow, heavy, grinding deep with every thrust, pushing the sound out of him with every roll of your hips.

“Y-you’re so deep,” he gasped. “I—I can feel you in my stomach—Master—please—”

You kissed his neck, teeth grazing the collar. “You’re taking it so well. My pretty little whore.”

He shuddered. “Yes—yes—call me that again—”

You thrust deep—he jerked, crying out.

“Say it.”

“I’m your whore,” he whimpered. “I’m your obedient whore—use me—please—just—”

He clenched around you, hole fluttering, walls pulsing like he was already about to cum.

You grabbed a fistful of his hair, pulling his head back.

“Don’t cum,” you growled into his ear. “Not until you break for me.”

Aventurine whined, a high, needy sound, mouth open, drool slipping down his chin as you kept fucking into him—slow, deep, deliberate.

“Faster,” he sobbed. “P-please—Master—please fuck me harder—need it—need you to ruin me—”

You slammed in hard. He screamed.

“Oh, that’s it,” you growled. “You like it now, don’t you? You like being fucked stupid.”

“Y-yes—yes, I do—please—don’t stop—”

You pulled the leash tighter, using it to anchor him as you began thrusting fast, hard, pounding into his slick hole until the slap of skin-on-skin echoed with every deep, bruising thrust.

“You gonna cum like this?” you hissed. “Face in the sheets, used, leaking, begging?”

“Yes—yes—I’m your cumslut—I’m yours—only yours—”

His words collapsed into gasping cries, voice breaking every time your cock slammed into that same aching spot deep inside.

You reached under him, fisted his cock—already wet, throbbing, twitching.

“You want to cum, slut?”

He nodded frantically, tears slipping down his cheeks.

“Then fucking ask.”

“Please—Master—please let me cum—let me make a mess for you—please—”

You grinned.

“Cum for me, slave.”

He screamed.

His body seized, hole clenching so tight around your cock it almost pushed you over the edge. His cum splattered across the sheets in thick, hot streaks, and he collapsed beneath you—shaking, moaning, drooling, trembling with every aftershock as you kept fucking him through it.

He was babbling now. You didn’t need to understand. It was all yours.

You growled low, thrusting one last time and spilling inside him, hot and thick, grinding deep as you filled him to the brim. He sobbed into the sheets—completely broken open, your cum leaking from his fluttering hole as he whispered, “Thank you, Master,” again and again.

You kissed his shoulder.

“You did so well for me,” you murmured. “So good. So obedient. So mine.”

He made a small sound—something close to a sob—but there was no fear in it.

Only peace.

　　　　　　　　　　　　　　𓆩♡𓆪

You didn’t let go of him. Not once. Not when he came undone under you, not when his body collapsed into aftershocks, not when his sobs started—quiet and broken, into the silk sheets.

You stayed inside him, shallow and warm, one hand on his waist, the other splayed across his chest. His breath came in shivers. His body twitched with every small pulse of aftershock, still spread open, still marked by you.

And still, he whispered, “Thank you, Master.” Over and over again. Like a prayer. Like a child afraid of silence.

You kissed the back of his neck. Gently. “You don’t have to thank me for not hurting you.”

His fingers curled in the sheets. He didn’t answer right away.

You pulled out slowly. Your cum dripped down the inside of his thighs, hot and wet, and he didn’t move. He just exhaled—long, cracked, like the last of his performance was melting out of him.

You left only briefly. Warm towel. Cloth. Water. When you returned, he hadn’t shifted.

He was still kneeling.

Silent.

Shaking.

You moved behind him and eased him into your lap. Chest to back. He folded like he’d been waiting to. You wrapped your arms around him and held him there—wet, ruined, open—and he let you.

You cleaned him gently. Slow, soft, reverent. Not possessive now. Not hungry. Just present.

“I want to hear your color,” you whispered.

“…Green,” he breathed. “Just… slow.”

“Slow is good.”

Another breath. Then, quieter: “I don’t want to go back to my room.”

“You won’t.”

You tightened the towel around him, pressing your palm over his heart. The leather collar was still warm under your fingers.

“Does this still feel good?” you asked, thumb brushing it.

“…Yes.”

“Does it still feel like a leash?”

“No.”

“Good.”

You tilted his face toward you. His eyes were red, wet, shining.

He swallowed.

“I kept waiting for it.”

You blinked. “For what?”

“For the part where you stopped asking,” he said. “Where you just… took.”

Your breath stilled.

He looked down, shame creeping like old blood into his voice. “They didn’t ask. Not after I was sold. The first ones just—”

You adjusted your hold—firmer now. Grounded.

“I know.”

“There was a man who called me by my serial number,” he said. “Said names were for people.”

You didn’t speak. You held him tighter.

“I used to think… if I offered it first, let people use me, I was in control. If I moaned loud enough or spread my legs fast enough, maybe they’d forget I didn’t want it.”

His voice cracked. His jaw clenched.

“But none of them ever stopped.”

You found his hand. Laced your fingers through his.

“…And you did.”

You didn’t say of course. You didn’t say I’m not like them.

You said: “You said yellow. So I slowed.”

And something inside him shattered.

He didn’t break pretty. He broke real. Face crumpling, shoulders shaking, tears falling hard against your skin as he buried his face in your chest and wept.

Not from shame.

From being seen.

You rocked him gently. Back and forth. Holding him through every sob, every tremor, every time he tried to apologize only to collapse again.

“I didn’t think I could ever be like this again,” he whispered.

“Like what?”

“Soft.”

You closed your eyes. Kissed his hair.

“You’re not soft. You’re just safe.”

His breath hitched.

“I don’t remember the last time I felt wanted,” he said, voice thin, “without needing to win something first.”

“You didn’t win me,” you murmured. “You let me hold you.”

His lashes fluttered. His voice dropped to a whisper:

“…Was I good?”

You cupped his cheek, thumb wiping a tear from his flushed skin.

“You were perfect.”

He laughed. It broke halfway. “I look pathetic right now.”

“No,” you said, smiling. “You look mine.”

He flinched—just slightly—but he didn’t deny it.

You kissed his nose. Brushed his damp hair back.

“Can I ask you something?”

“…Anything.”

“What do you want me to call you now?”

You didn’t rush it.

“You can keep Aventurine. Or Slave. Or…” You paused. “Kakavasha.”

He blinked.

His breath caught in his chest.

“I haven’t heard that name in so long,” he whispered. “It feels like it belongs to someone else.”

You nodded. “It does.”

He looked at you, startled.

You smiled.

“But maybe… that someone still lives here.” You placed your hand gently over his heart.

He didn’t answer. He couldn’t. His throat worked. His lashes fluttered.

You leaned close, nose to his cheek.

“Until you decide… I’ll call you what I see.”

He swallowed.

“And what’s that?” he whispered.

You kissed the edge of his collar.

“My beloved.”

[shoccoe]

So… I may or may not have written an entire Conlang based on a single joke in Minecraft Parkour Civilization 2. That would be ridiculous. Aha. Hahahaha. Ha.

*cough*

A Quick Guide to Writing in Parkour

Flourish List.

You add these in front of blocks to change their meaning. There’s a key at the bottom containing the Parkour alphabet which demonstrates how the space, 180°, 360°, and 720° Flourishes are used to refer to specific English-Letter analogs.

_ = Space

C = 180° Flourish = 5 spaces

O = 360° Flourish = 10 spaces

8 = 720° Flourish = 20 spaces

? = Reverse = Reverses input

^ = Vertical Jump = Raises Intensity

v = Drop = Lowers Intensity

Block List.

These are the building blocks (lmfao) of the language and are what would be counted as an “input” or “letter”. Also included are short legends under each block describing what each flourish does to each block!

(Note! _,C,O, and 8 cannot be applied to any block other than [ ] and H)

[ ] = Block = Grammatical Value

(?[ ] = Capitalized)

(^[ ] = Impassioned)

(v[ ] = Depressed)

H = Fence = Numerical Value

(?H = Negative)

(^H = Exponential)

(vH = Square Root)

u = Pot = Period

(?u = Comma)

(^u = Hyphen/Equality)

(vu = Parentheses)

I = Pane = Question

(?I = Exclamation)

(^I = Command)

(vI = Sarcasm)

% = Brewing Stand = Addition

(?% = Subtraction)

(^% = Multiplication)

(v% = Division)

Alphabet

a = [ ]

b = _[ ]

c = __[ ]

ch = ___[ ]

d = ____[ ]

e = C[ ]

f = _C[ ]

g = __C[ ]

h = ___C[ ]

i = ____C[ ]

j = O[ ]

l = _O[ ]

m = __O[ ]

n = ___O[ ]

o = ____O[ ]

p = OC[ ]

r = _OC[ ]

s = __OC[ ]

sh = ___OC[ ]

t = ____OC[ ]

th = 8[ ]

u = _8[ ]

v = __8[ ]

w = ___8[ ]

y = ____8[ ]

Numbers

0 = H

1 = _H

2 = __H

3 = ___H

4 = ____H

5 = CH

6 = _CH

7 = __CH

8 = ___CH

9 = ____CH

Now that you have all the tools, let’s put it all together~!

————————————

?8[ ]____C[ ]__OC[ ] ____C[ ]__OC[ ] OC[ ][ ]_OC[ ]__[ ]____O[ ]_8[ ]_OC[ ]?I

____CHH% _HH ^u _HHH

?C[ ][ ]____OC[ ] 8[ ]C[ ] _OC[ ]____C[ ]___[ ]^I

————————————

Big thanks to my friend PrismaticKoi for giving me the idea and helping me figure this all out! Working with her made this process super fun!!!

Enjoy Parkour-!!! I’ll be coding an English<—>Parkour translator at some point, so stick around to find that!!

All of you need to go watch Minecraft Parkour Civilization though. It’s seriously fantastic.

[81pastrys]

Opposites Attract

Summary— Oscar isn’t the talkative type but he knows his way around gestures and actions. Until he finds out she doubts her worth as his partner.

Warnings— self-hatred..? ; self-doubting ; loving Oscar ; overthinking!reader ; sensitive!reader

A/N— here’s the mind-blowing Oscar fluff 🩷

Oscar One Shots

Request— hi can you make an oscar fic where reader and oscar had always had this dynamic between them where reader's more of the outgoing, yapping but sweet personality and oscar is more on the reserved quiet side, never talks more then 2 sentences, it had worked out that way and she never noticed his silence until one day one of her friends point it out, and she looks back and notices it and since then whenever they spent time together she notices it too, like it "seems" on the outside that oscar's not paying any attention like being on his phone, or being preoccupied with smth like driving, making sure her order's perfect, and reader misunderstands and wonders if she's being "too much" and gets sad about it, ps reader is a bit sensitive; TYSMMM I LOVE YOUR WORKS SO MUCHHH 💖💖💖

The man of only a few words was somehow dating the girl with all the words. How? Don’t ask them, it just worked out that way. She would talk and talk and talk, while Oscar would just sit, nod, listen in. Nothing ever really needed his input, she was just rambling most of the time. The dynamic duo, one talks while the other listens. Yeah they had their moments of sweet cuddles and PDA but nothing too out of the ordinary. Oscar was more present in the actions while she was more present in the talking. It just worked- clicked even.

“Why is Oscar so quiet all the time?” Her friend mentioned at lunch one day. “You’re always talking and if he does talk it’s like a sentence.” She gave her friend a confused smile.

“He just listens, I mean, I’m usually just talking about my day or things to do.” She shrugged it off. What she didn’t say was that it was getting in her head.

Why doesn’t he talk?

Is he uninterested?

“Just seems odd, you can talk for hours and he can barely speak a sentence.” Her friend should really catch the hint and shut her mouth. She diverts her friend’s attention to something else, to ease her mind of the overthinking.

After that she pays more attention. Oscar really doesn’t talk much. He does for medias but he’s being paid to do that and it’s all car and mechanics anyway, not conversation. Not to mention, when they’re together he’s mindlessly scrolling on his phone or looking towards their surroundings. Sometimes he catches her eye but not as often as she believes is right— like he isn’t even interested.

What she does notice is her favorite flowers perched in a beautifully blown, glass vase on her office desk, or her favorite meal prepped in the fridge for lunch. Oscar also makes a point on live television that he’s happily taken.

The confusion wracks her brain for weeks. No, he doesn’t engage much in conversation but he listens. How else would he know she liked peonies and blown glass from Italy specifically? No, he doesn’t seem all that attentive but she feels loved around him.

The idea that she’s just too much to handle runs across her mind. It sends her into a spiral and she ends up in the corner of their shared room crying in a ball. That’s how Oscar finds her. All she hears is a click of the door and a bit of rustling before the door creaks loudly and a sliver of light shines in. “My love, are you in here?” He asked, quiet, reserved. Uninterested.

His confusion is pushed aside, maybe he thought she went out for a walk. He walks into their bathroom, the light now showing her curled up form to him. She looks towards it and sees he was facing her from the doorway. He didn’t even go in the bathroom.

“Come here doll, tell me what’s wrong.” He said. Not a question or negotiation, no, a command. He walks closer and she uncurls from her ball to stand. Hesitantly she inches closer. “What’s got you so upset, hm?” Soft, caring, interested.

She sobs pathetically into his chest when they finally connect. Oscar just holds her. His hand rubbing soothingly over her back and the other massaging her scalp, something she said calms her down— months ago. That makes her sob harder, he remembered. He listened.

They swayed, rocked side to side. His head resting on top of hers, something else she had mentioned— however long ago— calms her. She took a shaky breath and backed away from his chest, which was now soaked from her tears.

He moved her hair sticking to her face to the side, behind her ears. “Am I too much?” She asked, small, shaky, uncertain. Oscar searched her face for any hints of the fact that she must be joking.

“What?” He asked, genuine confusion across his face. “Never. You are never too much baby, who said that?” He knew she could go down media rabbit holes of hatred and hated that people spoke badly about her— but that’s media for you.

“Me.” That hurt Oscar even more than if she got it from some stupid journalist. He took a deep breath and held her face in his hands, reassuring her needs.

“You will never be too much for me.” He said quiet, only for her to hear. “Why do you say that baby?” She pouted, not sadly, but happily. She wasn’t too much for him— she just got into her own head.

“I talk so much and I want expensive flowers and you never look like you’re listening and then you get me such beautiful things and I’m just not the kind of person you.. you should be with.” She rambled and Oscar listened to every word, decoded them even.

“You are the only person I want to be with.” He started off with, firm, reassuring, true. “I get you expensive flowers to make up for the time we lose apart, I listen when you talk because your voice is heavenly, and I get you beautiful things because you deserve them.” She hugged him again, this time tighter with more passion and a sense of feeling loved. “I love you, for you. Please don’t hate yourself for being you, and please don’t stop being you.”

A broken ‘okay’ came from her lips and Oscar soothed her. Letting her emotions take over and the tears flow. He wants her to know he cares and that it’s okay to need an emotional break from thinking.

“You should talk to me when you feel this way doll, I don’t like when you let yourself spiral.” He whispered. Before she could even think about apologizing, Oscar shushed her. “Don’t apologize my love, just let me hold you.” And so she did, she let him hold her until it all passed.

Now all the sweet gestures of flowers or gifts came with little notes.

‘I made your favorite for lunch, I love you doll.’ In her lunchboxes.

‘I missed you and these reminded me how lucky I am to have you’ with a sweet trinket or jewelry or candies.

‘These flowers are an apology for being gone so long for the triple header, I love and miss you.’

Not only did they never discuss it, but they both understood that it helped and reassured her mind. She was lucky to have him and he was so lucky to have her.

She thought it was all crashing down when he started slacking on the notes or gestures. They were in the Netherlands for the grand prix and he planned a flower field date. She loved it so much, but the nagging ‘he’s going to break up with me’ lingered in her head. Until she turned swiftly with a self-made bouquet and he was on one knee.

More boyfriend Oscar 🫶🏻

@il0vereadingstuff @angelluv16 @justaf1girl @pandabiiissh @itznotsophia @kallanfiona

[niccolites]

febrile (or; input vs output)

simon 'ghost' riley x fem!reader

He expects some kind of betrayal, for you to hiss and snap at him. Image of the NCPD, accepting your cyberware one week and raiding your clinic the other.

Instead you stand to the side and watch with him as the other officers dig through your stuff. They’re a bit too enthusiastic, your tray gets flipped over and your bench kicked over to check underneath and it isn’t righted again.

Simon watches you, uncaring that he should be watching his men. You tilt your head back and look up at him, you aren’t half his size but it’s a close thing. He thinks he likes that, watching the top of your spine disappear into your neck just to look at him, the arch of your throat. Traces his eyes over it, tendons and a vulnerable jugular, pushed out for him.

-

or: Simon is a member of the Night City Police Department and you're a ripper doc. It is his job to catch criminals, but even he can admit, he's taken a different approach for you. CYBERPUNK!AU

TAGS: Dubious Consent, Power Imbalance, Size Kink, Unhealthy Relationships

read here on ao3

Simon’s got a bug in his system that is turning his vision white at the edges when he finally visits you.

Not that he has much of a morality regarding visiting ripperdocs. Sure, they’re criminals and as a member of the NCPD, it is his job to arrest and charge criminal activity, but that was a rigid rule set decades ago. These days, the split between the NCPD and a common gang is that the rules the gang lives by aren’t written into the law. But, allowances are allowed on both sides.

Simon has never cared much to think about it. He sees some other officers have that blank look in their eye after they finish a shift, others who seem to revel in being able to do whatever it is that they want. Simon just does as he’s told. If he’s told to save the woman who survived a cyberpsycho attack then she is tossed over a shoulder and brought to the ambulance. If otherwise, a nod is all he needs to know that there are no witnesses. Finger, gun, trigger. The explosion in the palm of his hand, kicked back and caught. Delivered.

Maybe it has left a screw loose in his head. Not his job to analyse that.

Flouting the law as and when it suits the law is a part of the job. Not one that Simon has much indulged in, he must admit. Any murder, extortion, crime that is involved in the ‘etcetera’ part of his work, has been asked of him. His fellow officers flout the law as and when it suits them. Illegal weapons, killing a perp who gets too mouthy, maybe getting a bit too handsy with a victim. Simon hasn’t been much interested in the ‘benefits’ he can reap with his badge.

However, after a job where the NCPD took down a group of scavengers, Simon’s vision starts getting spotty. He’d had to jack into one of the victims to see if they were still alive. Horrible static, bad channel. They hadn’t been. And seemingly willing to haunt him from the afterlife, leaving a pesky virus in his system.

There are NCPD designated docs that he could go and visit, but the idea of letting one of their starched, freshly pressed hands go worming around in his cyberware makes his skin crawl. Years before his official service, he’d had all his kit installed by a ripperdoc, and he hadn’t had an issue he couldn’t fix himself since.

He spends a few days just trying to deal with it, still able to hit his shots using the noise that all criminals insist on making. He can still mostly see, even a few days in. Maybe not make out features, but people are blurry and morphed shapes that approach him and he puts them down with the same accuracy as before.

It’s not long before his captain pulls him up, though. Forces him to admit the bug, and issues a new command. Sort it out.

Standing in the doorway of your clinic, hidden in his civvies, here he is. Sorting it out.

You’re in the middle of muddling around with some of your equipment, humming to yourself before you must catch sight of him. The blur of your figure jumps, as your face comes into profile. You must be intimidated by the sight of him, something that he registers with a cool type of pleasure. Even not in his uniform and clearly strapped with all of his weapons, he blocks the light coming in from your doorway. You must see the metal of his left arm, nothing human left there. The gas mask that covers half of his face, black and stark against the pale of his skin.

“Hello. How can I help?” you ask, shifting something up your forehead. It distorts ths shape of your head and he realises that they must be massive goggles. Ridiculous, he imagines you must look like the image of the crazy scientist from old stories; you probably have a lab coat on. He wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t for your reputation, known as one of the best ripperdocs in Watson, even if you are as cheap as they say.

Ripperdocs are the gray area in Night City. Criminals, yes, but the hassle of actually taking down ripperdocs is more than it’s worth. Not that Simon tends to give a fuck about the politics, or the give and take of crime vs law. He is a bullet, pointed in a direction and shot out.

“I got a bug in my system,” he says, taking another step into your clinic.

You nod, gesture for him to take a seat on your bench. Something out of a dentist’s nightmare, he imagines, but he takes a seat nonetheless. Despite lying down, everything in him is as tense as a straight line. Gaze landed and caught on you, lazy as he watches you drift around your clinic. His vision is filtering your clinic as starkly white, the outline of your light grey. You both may as well be in void, he can only see the outline of objects as they get close to him.

You swing your chair around and pick up a wire. “You cool if I take a look?” you offer, gesturing with the wire. His forearm is already tense with the instinct to catch your hand before you can plug that into the side of his neck. His metal gasmask covers the slot anyway.

A beat, in which you look back at him. He considers making it awkward, telling you no or something. Settles on nodding and watches the way you flounder for a moment when you realise you can’t reach the slot. You’re paused, flatering in the space between the two of you.

“Can you take off your mask?” you ask. Your voice is deliberately light, but he can hear the catch of annoyance underlying your tone. It makes him want to grin, wonders how you look right now, if you’re frowning at him or trying to hide it with a smile.

“No,” he tells you. A beat. You don’t move or attempt to say anything else. Stalemate, when he can’t see how you look. “There’s a catch on the side, you unlatch that to reach the slot.”

You don’t say anything else, and he’s irritated by that. Relying on noise when the other individual doesn’t want to make any noise just leaves him listeless. You reach up, click open a section of his mask and plug in. You turn away, pull what must be a tray towards yourself. You must have plugged him into your laptop, your figure hunched towards it.

You cluck your tongue, goggles shifting across your brow as you gaze at your screen. “This is a nasty one, how’d you catch this?” He decides that’s not relevant and watches you instead. You give him a quick glance, head tilting his way, but decide to shrug off his strange silence. “I’ll just be a moment while I clear it. Seems to have caught onto a lot of your neural sensors, I’m surprised you can still walk.”

His chest doesn’t puff out with pride, but it’s a close thing. You tinker away at it, finally clearing it from his system. The whites that had clouded his vision clears, and he can see you in high definition finally. Can see the pores next to your nose, the frizz around the strap of your goggles as it disappears into your hair. You’re giving him an evaluating look, your eyes intent even as the rest of your body is deliberately loose. You don’t seem to have much chrome on you, thin lines of metal around your eyes, and a scanner on your right palm. He doubts you have much more.

“There we are, good as new,” you tell him, leaning back in your chair with a pleased huff. You give him another long look, but this time he can see the widen and pinprick of your retina. He wonders how he comes up in the scan that you must’ve pulled up the second he was in your doorway. Cop, ex-army, de-commissioned, KIA but here, in the (mostly) flesh. You don’t give any of it away, just shut your laptop and unplug him.

You hadn’t asked for payment upfront, and he imagines just walking out. Wonders if you would scowl at him, if you would expect it, maybe scowl for once. Drop that calm look on your face in exchange for something a bit uglier.

There is a long beat that he draws out to see what you will do, but you only sit patiently. You turn back to your laptop, tapping away on something else now. It’s not fun if you’re not biting, he sends you what he decides must be your standard fee, watches you tilt your head to the side at the chime of money exchanged.

He doesn’t thank you, just gets up and leaves. You didn’t close the latch on the side of his mask, and he considers marching back and making you do it, but decides to save it for another day. He closes it himself for now, and fancies that he can feel the finger print that you left behind on it, evidence.

-

The first warrant he comes back with is legitimate. Cyberpyschos are going mental over the bridge, and they have a faint enough lead that shows some of the cyberware tracing back to yourself. He knocks on your door and watches your face when he presents it to you.

He expects some kind of betrayal, for you to hiss and snap at him. Image of the NCPD, accepting your cyberware one week and raiding your clinic the other.

Instead you stand to the side and watch with him as the other officers dig through your stuff. They’re a bit too enthusiastic, your tray gets flipped over and your bench kicked over to check underneath and it isn’t righted again.

Simon watches you, uncaring that he should be watching his men. You tilt your head back and look up at him, you aren’t half his size but it’s a close thing. He thinks he likes that, watching the top of your spine disappear into your neck just to look at him, the arch of your throat. Traces his eyes over it, tendons and a vulnerable jugular, pushed out for him.

He imagines reaching over and holding his hand over the soft column of your throat. You’ve left it bare, you’d likely barely have any time to start flailing before he’d squeeze with intent and you’d drop, caught in the palm of his hand. If you can sense his thoughts, you don’t give it away, just watch him in return, blinking like a stray cat. Curious but wary.

“You know, Officer Riley, if you wanted to see me again, you didn’t have to bring the official signed document,” you say, gesturing with the hologram that was on the chip he presented to you. It’s slightly flirty, but cautious, like you’re padding around an interrogation room, but you don’t know what he’s done yet.

He doesn’t say anything. You smile back, as if he had responded, and let it lie. Your eyes are sharp, he imagined he could hear the whir as you scanned each of his men as they came in, but your smile and limbs are loose, like you are unaware of everything. Your teeth are blunt, but he imagines the cut of one against the metal of his forearm.

They don’t find anything, and one of his men huffs, giving you a dirty look. You’re asked what you work as and your smile doesn’t slip. “I help those with addiction, this is a place for them to speak, to be treated,” you answer.

“Treated?” one of his men pushes, giving Simon a look. It’s a terrible lie, so bad that Simon reckons they’ll have a hard time proving it’s not true. This is a shitty area, there’s likely 3 gonks in the alleyway outside lying in the gutter, high. You’re also liked enough that they could grab a random off the street and they’d lie for you easily enough.

“Simple brain dances, meditations,” you explain, rolling your head back to give Simon another look. The smile is gone, eyes gone guileless. He squints at it, suspicious and the corner of your mouth gives the faintest twitch. “Honestly, officers, whatever it is that you’re looking for, I’m sure I would not be of any help.”

One of his men steps forward as if to grab you by the arm but Simon barks at him to step back. You haven’t looked away, but you look analysing again, like you had looked at the virus in his system. “We’re done here,” Simon announces and steps back before you can say anything else. Leaves you with your trashed clinic and his warrant on the chip he gave you.

Simon falls asleep later and dreams of you with a scalpel in your hands, and when you cut into him, there is no blood.

-

Simon sees you again, but this time you’re outside. It bristles him, seeing you standing on an open street. Your sides are bare and before he can think about it too much, he’s cut his eyes around every alleyway around you. Making sure that there is no one on the rooftops. Traffic roars past and he grits his teeth. There's been a spike in drive-by shootings, gangs nipping at each other’s heels in a show of territory.

He’s over to you before he can stop himself, a hulking mass at your back, shielding you from the view of the road. He would tell himself that he is doing his duty as an officer, but he has always been a self-interested man, and never cared much to lie to himself. 

You startle as his shadow swallows you up, turning around to blink up at him. You squint at the sight of him. “Officer,” you greet. He grunts in response, which makes you almost roll your eyes.

You turn back to the stall you were standing at, humming over some mods for sale.

The man at the stall is terrified at the introduction of Simon, pale and nodding mindlessly as you start to barter. Simon imagines if he flashes his holster then you would even get the mod for free, a thought which amuses him. You'd likely get even more annoyed, which he does want to see.

As if you can sense his thoughts, you wrap up the exchange quickly and step away, Simon following at your back. “There something you want from me, officer?” You ask, giving him a look over your shoulder. He stares back at you, unyielding.

He’s unsettled suddenly, imagining how often you must be outside of your clinic. He hadn’t thought of it, had only imagined you were constrained in those four walls. The door had shut behind him and he had left you there, a still picture until he would return eventually. Waiting, like a good girl, sat by the door.

“You going home?” he asks you. Tells you.

You give him another look. He wants the crack of your skull in his palms, like the clean split of a watermelon. Wants to parse through your thoughts, wants to have them before they even fully form on your own.

“Yeah, I got what I needed,” you reply. He grunts, follows you until you tilt towards the side streets that lead back to your clinic. Barely any safer, but at least it’s not the open street, and he has his orders to patrol here. He watches you as you disappear around a corner. His gums itch, his tongue flexes in his mouth. He is a wild dog held back with a tattered leash, but he respects it all the same, heads back to his post, but keeps his ear tilted in the direction you went in.

-

He comes back again, and the warrant isn’t even real. He stares you down, wants you to open it, wants the reaction to his baldfaced lie. You take the chip and step aside to let him in. There’s a cut across your brow, purple bruising around it and he can’t look away from it. White in his vision again, he’s starting to suspect you’ve put another virus in his system, infecting him. He blinks and it clears, but the distrust stays like a rotting in his core.

He wants to dig his teeth into the edge of the metal in your palms and peel it up, wants the imprint of his teeth somewhere on you that you couldn’t replace with technology. He thought about you while he fucked his fist in the shower, and you had been beneath him, teary-eyed as he broke you in on his cock. He wants to fuck you until you drop that questioning look in your eye and bare your throat for him again.

“Look at the warrant,” he tells you. You smile up at him, like he is someone charming. He’s not, and he wants the reaction that he has sought out of you.

“Won’t it just say what all of them say?” you point out, leaning back against your desk. “Something that may have something to do with me, and here you are.” He stays silent, stares you down. “Do you want me to be a criminal?”

“You are one,” Simon rebuttals. That’s why he’s here. You need to be, he needs to catch you. He dreamt of chasing you down a network, jumping between wires and static until he caught your hips in his hands and crushed them. His desire for you is entwined with the dichotomy of your identities. He isn’t much interested in forcing you to become a legal law-abiding citizen, as he is pushing the two of you further into the roles that you are in.

“You know what I mean,” you add, pushing off of your desk and stepping towards him. A step away and he reaches his metal hand out, clamps your jaw in his palm. You let him, like you always seem to do, and it’s like pure heroin, lights something up in him.

“Who did this?” he asks, your chin in his palm, his thumb on your eyebrow. Right on the cut. He thinks if it was him that put it there, he might dig in a little, but he wasn’t. It’s hidden from view like this, with the edge of your eyebrow, disappeared behind his ugly, metal thumb.

“Got jumped by some asshole who thought he was hot shit,” you say, easily. The way you say everything, no pit-stop between your brain and your mouth. He wants to dig his tongue into the back of your throat and catch the words there, drink them down.

“Who?” he asks. You shrug and he shakes your jaw like a bad dog. “Who?” he repeats, tone biting. There’s a twitch in your eye at being roughhoused but you don’t step back.

You give a name, raising an eyebrow at him. He vaguely recognises it, some asshole who’s been causing trouble in Watson. Some wannabe gangbanger. He butts his head against yours, too hard to be truly affectionate before he leaves. His gas mask bumps against your cheek, leaves a red mark on your jaw from where his metal fingers dug in.

He shoots the fucker who jumped you, and dumps his body in the river. He watches it float, knowing it’ll be found. When they see the NCPD bullet extracted from his brain, he’ll be dumped back out again. Simon thinks about allowances, thinks about ropes of wire and how they snap. Rubber ripped, coil exposed.

-

He comes to see you again, this time in the middle of the night, wanting to see what you look like when you’ve just woken up. He imagines you’ll be pliant, let him shift you around as he wishes, sleep in your eye and a dream still dragging on your limbs.

You open the door and rub your eyes. Your hair is a little ruffled from your bed, blinking up at him with thick-cottoned eyes. He smiles with teeth beneath his gas mask at how awareness flickers into your eyes before you force a yawn. You’re so quick, which is why it’s always so satisfying to catch you.

“Something I can help with, officer?” you ask, leaning against the doorframe.

“Let me in,” he tells you. Demands it of you. It would be so easy to force his way in, but he likes it when you do as he tells you to.

“You got a warrant for that?” you ask, scrubbing a hand over your jaw. Eye him like he’s your patient again, like you’re finding that virus in his system and cutting it out.

“No,” he replies. Watches your expression, the subtle tick of your brow at his bold-faced honesty.

He wonders if you’ll shut the door on him. Make him peel the metal back to get in anyway. He would, he’s saved up his allowances and he plans on cashing them out on you.

You give him another long look before you step to the side and let him in. The door slides shut with a wheeze and a soft thunk.

“Is there something that you would like to say, Officer Riley,” you say, as if it’s a question but your voice doesn’t lilt at the end. He wants to catalogue every one of your reactions and keep them to himself, squirrelled away, out of the sight of anyone else. That is something beyond liking you, beyond attraction. Simon feels possessive of everything about you, like he might cave someone’s skull in if they saw too much of you.

Simon’s never been too much of a talker, he steps forward and crowds you into the desk that has all of your equipment on it. You blink up at him, perfectly still in the way that prey animals are, when they know they’re caught. The rabbit-like flutter of your heart, caught in the palm of his hand as he cups your neck. Thumb against the soft give just beneath your chin. “Simon,” he tells you, although he knows you already must know. He never told you he was Officer Riley, knows that you must have pried your way into whatever confidential information that you could find on your scan of him.

“Well, that doesn’t feel appropriate, Officer Riley,” you point out. Your calm tone is undermined by the kick of your pulse. His fingers flex, held back with a trained restraint. He likes knowing you’re afraid of him, like that you talk back to him anyway. Like watching a kitten yowl at a beast. Cute.

“Simon,” he repeats, bending his head closer to you, A hunch in his shoulders, and his face still isn’t that close to yours.

A quiet beat. “Simon,” you repeat. Your voice is flat, as if you’re trying to take the enjoyment out of it for him. He huffs with something like amusement. He gets his rocks off here, having his way in your clinic, the feel of your skin against the scar tissue of his human hand. You could be scowling or smiling, and he’d like either once he’s got his fingers in your mouth.

He reaches his other hand up and undoes his gas mask, lets it drop off and sets it on the desk next to your hip. Hoists you up, catches the kick of your leg, steps into the cradle of your thighs. “There we go,” he tells you. Your eyes have taken in the exposed section of his face. Ripped skin, some replaced by chrome, most of it left to heal as is. He knows that he is an ugly sight, a hulking, horrible man, hunched over you. He doesn’t care much what you have to say about it.

He ducks his head and looks you in the eye, even playing ground. You glare back at him and he grins with teeth. He hopes that you bite him, seals his mouth over yours. Your tongue is wet and he tilts your head back, wanting to get into your throat. You bite his tongue and he groans, his other hand pushing your hips into his. He grinds into you, huffing into your mouth. He memorises each point of your teeth, sucks your tongue into his mouth and blinks at you with half-closed eyes.

He pulls back with a wet smack, which leaves your cheeks flushed. “Show me your tits,” he tells you, hands flat on your desk, framing your hips. You don’t move, glaring up at him again. He gives you a lazy look, like you’re boring him now. If anything, the hateful look in your eye has made him even harder, if it were possible. “Now.”

“Such a dick,” you mutter to yourself, reaching for the buttons of your pyjama shirt and slipping it off. There’s a fine tremble in your hands before you still them with a calming breath. He was right on his first impression of you - that you barely have any chrome on you. Your skin is soft looking, no harsh metal on your torso. Restricted to the framing of metal around your eyes, your right palm. 

He smooths his metal hand up your side, watches gooseflesh and vellus hair raise in its wake. Cups one of your breasts in his cold metal palm. Almost coos at the sight of your nipple pebbling as his thumb swipes over it. Restrains himself at the last second, but gives into the urge to give you a mean pinch as retribution for your filthy mouth. You jump, a hitch in your breath. He smirks at you, hopes you can see the chip in his canine. “Behave,” he tells you, reaching for the waistband of your bottoms. Maybe once he’s drunk his fill, he can indulge the bite of your mouth, but his skin feels stretched thin over chrome and bone, and he wants what’s his and he wants it readily.

There’s a jump in your abdomen as his hand dwarves your hip, tugging your pyjama bottoms off and tosses them behind him. He spreads your thighs, peaks at the curls the cover your sex. All of the dolls in Night City are clean shaven. He likes this better, likes that you hadn’t been expecting him, and here he is anyway. He makes a mental reminder to bin all of your razors if he gets a chance.

He parts your sex with two fingers, huffing at the sight. So sweet, even with your strange looks and your filthy mouth. Sweet as sugar down here, your hole fluttering, your clit hidden under its hood like it’s shy. His hands are a cage around the span of your waist, squeezes in warning before he thuds to his knees and flattens his tongue against you. You whimper at the contact, manage to strangle the noise just barely. When he seals his mouth over your clit and sucks, you yowl, thighs kicking out. He squeezes them in place over his shoulders, barely jostled.

He brings one hand down from your waist, lifts his head, a string of saliva connecting him to your clit. It’s out now, throbbing and awake. He spits on it, watches you flinch with it. Spittle drips down, sits on the slick that has gathered at your hole. He feeds you one finger, groans as he watches your flesh part for him, and feels how hot you are inside. You're tight, he can feel muscle clamp down around his index, clinging to him. “Need to relax, sweetheart, or my cock’s gonna break you,” he tells you. It almost feels like a struggle to even feed you one finger, something that leaves a strangled feeling in his chest.

“Do one,” you reply, eloquently. But you don’t kick him off you or anything, so he just gives you another look. He’s being too indulgent with you, he knows. But, it’s better to let a puppy misbehave so they know what’s not tolerated. Training for another day, he lowers his head and licks at the stretch of your pussy around his finger.

He slides his finger in and out of you, gives you another when your panting starts to hitch up, rubbing his thumb over your clit when you whine at the stretch. You start whining out swears, hips jolting forward and then back again as if you want to come, but don’t want him to give it to you.

His third finger is pushing it, he knows because you start clawing at his scalp, sharp little nails. He groans hot onto your clit, which has you shaking. You’re wet with sweat, he can see the shine of it on the curve of your belly, on the strip of skin between your tits.

He slows the pump of his fingers, idly toying your clit with his tongue. He debates if you should be allowed to come. He doesn’t want you knowing that he finds your pissy words amusing, doesn’t want to overly encourage it. However, you haven’t tried to run, or punch him or anything of that ilk. He knows that you can’t help the kick of your hind legs. He pinned you down with teeth at your throat, and he knows that you’re trying so hard to behave. Besides, sinking his cock into you is already going to be a struggle, nevermind if you aren’t loose and pliant for him.

He curls his fingers, sucks your clit, chasing your orgasm like it’s his last meal. A test in his restraint. He thinks that he wants this more than you do. Your lungs stutter, shaking as your hands cradle his head. You’re muttering to yourself, ‘please’ spilling out of you, again and again. Another mean suck and your shriek, back bowing and he feels the clench of your cunt around his fingers.

He fingers you through it, until you are almost sobbing, trying to crawl away from him, but held in place with his metal hand that has slipped to the small of your back. He gives your clit a kiss, mean and hard just to watch it throb before he gets up off his knees with a groan. He;s getting too old to be kneeling on tile like that. He’ll fuck you in a bed next time, if you’re good.

He slides his fingers out of you, unbuttons his trousers. You stare at him, vaguely out of it as you try to catch your breath. Awareness seems to slam back into you as he fishes his cock out. He’s big, he knows this, but the way your eyes widen like he’s pulled a gun on you has him chuckling to himself. “That’s not going to fit,” you tell him, tone dead.

“Enough flirting,” he tells you, catching your legs over his forearms and dragging you to the edge of your counter.

“You’re deranged,” you snark. He’s amused, watching the anger tugging at your scowl, naked beneath him, and your slick caught in the curls between your legs.

He gives the side of your thigh a firm smack, catching the jump of your body. “Watch that mouth, or I’ll put it to use,” he warns you. You glare up at him, but don’t say anything else. A shame, but he does have to have a firm hand with you.

He takes his cock and grinds it against you, parting your curls to get to the hot, wet flesh beneath. He catches the head of his cock against your clit, slicks himself up, knowing that he’ll need it if the greedy suck of your cunt around his fingers is any indication. He pulls back and lines himself up. He understands what you’re saying, the mushroom shaped head dwarves the small hole that flutters as he presses against it lightly. It’s hard to imagine fitting in there, even given that he has tried to prepare you.

You don’t seem to understand how bullheaded Simon is, though. He hasn’t chased anything that he hasn’t caught yet. A tense of his wide bicep and he starts to push into you, metal hand on the base of his cock, the other lightly rubbing your clit in circles to get you to give way.

There’s a moment where he thinks it might not happen, you’re starting to flush, face shining with sweat. Then there’s a shudder and your cunt parts, splits, sweet fruit halving and the head slips inside. You both groan, his head dropping onto your collar as he pushes further into you. You’re slick, he can feel your cunt sucking at him.

You start to whimper as he pushes further into you. His thumb rubs up and down on your clit, insistent even as if you try to cringe away from him. Shallowly thrusts, keeps pushing until you start to give way. You thump your fist against his chest, the impact bouncing off of chrome. He barely acknowledges it, and continues grinding into you.

He bottoms out, groans into your collarbone. “There we go, there we are, sweet girl,” he tells you. The muscles in your back loosen at the praise, feels tense flesh give out into his metal hand.

He pulls fully out and slams into you, and you whine, hands on his shoulders and clinging. “Simon -” you start, but he shifts both his hands onto the back of your knees and pushes them up to your shoulders. He can see the stretch of your cunt around him like this, the spread of your legs for the monstrous size of him. He feels dizzy with it, can’t stop himself from pulling almost all of the way out of you before slamming inside. His eyes almost roll back into his head, and you sob, nails digging into the flesh that he has on his back.

Your knees over his forearms, he braces his hands on your hips and he starts thrusting into you, pleasure zipping up his spine. Breathy sounds are punched out of you each time his thighs slap into yours. There’s a heat rising in him, catching and flaming.

He lifts his torso up, looks down on you. It’s like he thought, the prick of tears in the corner of your eyes, the swollen spread of your pussy around him. He drops one of your legs in favour of flattening his palm against your throat. Your pulse is fat in his palm. He catches it there, feels the ricochet into the meat of his hand.

You clench down on him and he groans, bares his teeth at you. “You like that, huh?” he asks you, flexing his fingers over the tendons of your neck. Your mouth is open, he can see the pink flash of it in your mouth. You try to shake your head but another hard thrust just sends it rocking back instead, another moan gritting through your teeth again.

He digs into you, flexes the metal in his legs to thrust into you hard and fast. Exertion is an old friend, and he takes it into his stride. He is only starting to pant a little, but you’re running hot and have been for a while.

Pleasure is molten hot at his pelvis, and each time his hips meet yours, cock kissing your cervix, his vision whites out at the sides. The virus that you must have planted in him is deteriorating in his system, leaving him almost mindless. He’s chasing you, still, even with you caught between his body and your desk. Breath like steam pouring out of his mouth, saliva pooling under his tongue as he realises that you’re within reach.

You stare up at him, eyes wide. The vision of your head held up by his hand is enough to finish him off. He slams into you a few more times, groaning deep in his chest while you squeak, spills hotly in you, grinds to draw out the spark that glares in his vision until he stills.

A moment of quiet, air thick with sex and sweat. He drops his head against yours with a thunk as your skulls collide. Feels the buzz of your grunt in your throat with his hand still nestled there.

“You got a bed back there?” he asks, temple against yours.

“Not telling you,” you mutter, sounding wrung-out and gutted. He snorts, scoops you up in his arms, stepping back from your desk, holding you up. Still have a smart mouth. But, he has the patience to get that out of you. Not all of it though, but he won’t tell you that.

-

A week later, a missing report for a ripperdoc in Watson hits Simon’s desk. He shreds it, and it sounds like the chime of an allowance, cashed in.

[muirmarie]

a delegation of vulcans come on the ship, and the enterprise does the usual hullabaloo, tours and nice dinners and etc. the ship's pretty used to important people swinging by, so the command crew especially is a little more lax in their free time, while still being super professional with the delegation themselves.

this results, unfortunately, in mccoy and spock having one of their normal breakfast squabbles, as they do.

when they realize that the vulcans have arrived and are Watching This, mccoy about swallows his tongue, trying to remember what he may have just said.

spock, seeing this, thinks hmm, i may need to smooth things over.

HOWEVER.

the vulcans corner mccoy in his office and are very, we overheard the son of sarek earlier, and we wish to reassure you that vulcans do not normally carry prejudices against humans. perhaps, with a human mother, he carries his own internal prejudices that he may need to examine, and we will be advising your captain that commander spock speak with a counselor - a vulcan counselor - about these prejudices that he carries, one experienced in internalized xenophobia.

mccoy is staring at them, wide-eyed, wondering how he always gets himself into these messes.

that's not necessary! he says with an awkward, clearly strained laugh. i don't think i was too complimentary back to him either, it's - i assure you, i respect vulcans and your culture, mister spock and i just -

it is reasonable that you yourself may carry a low opinion of vulcans if the only vulcan you have met has treated humans with such disdain.

this is. hm. mccoy is out of his depth.

that's not what's happening here, i can assure you. perhaps if we get the captain he could better explain -

the vulcans look vaguely concerned. is our presence making you uncomfortable? we should have thought to include your captain, to ensure you did not feel -

SPOCK AND I ARE FRIENDS, mccoy shouts - shouts, unfortunately, loud enough for anyone in sickbay to hear through his thin office door.

we understand he is your commanding officer, but this - this human need to protect him when he has spoken of humans so dismissively -

IT'S HOW WE FLIRT, mccoy says, somehow even louder. JESUS CHRIST IT'S HOW WE FLIRT, WE'RE BOTH INTO IT, PLEASE GOD STOP MAKING ME TALK ABOUT IT, WE'RE FINE, EVERYTHING'S FINE I SWEAR

........., say the vulcans.

........., says the suddenly quiet sickbay behind mccoy's office door.

the door opens.

hi bones, kirk says with a wide, wide grin, a constipated-looking spock next to him. we were trying to find some lost vulcan delegates. did you all have a good talk?

mccoy, grimly, reminds himself that it is physically impossible to sink through the floor.

.....it was illuminating, the vulcan says. commander spock, did you have any input?

spock, making a fair attempt at hiding behind kirk, looks like he'd prefer to bolt.

the doctor is adept at understanding all facets of conversation, especially those unspoken, he says, studiously avoiding mccoy's eyes.

i see, the vulcan says. ....i expect to meet your father soon. do you have anything you would like me to pass on to him?

only, spock says, stone-faced, my regards.

oh, give him regards from doctor mccoy and i, as well, kirk chimes in, extremely helpfully.

i did not realize you were acquainted, the vulcan says.

doctor mccoy actually saved ambassador sarek's life, kirk smiles.

......i see. yes, a very illuminating conversation, the vulcan says. we are now ready to proceed with the tour.

'fraid i can't accompany you, i'm very busy, mccoy says, walking ALL of them out the door, spock included. have fun!

as soon as the door shuts, he sits down behind his desk and buries his face in his hands.

he only gets to sit there for about ten seconds, though, before chapel comes in. all she does is give him a wide, wide smile, and he groans. out!

(the entire ship is aware of it by the time the hour is up)

[corroded-hellfire]

I just need pre-relationship AYW!Eddie all pent up and feral for Reader. I need him whimpering when he touches himself after Reader leaves for the evening. I need him trying to picture anyone else besides his kids’ babysitter but he keeps picturing Reader.

Your wish is my command! 😘

Warnings: male masturbation, smut, p in v, unprotected (wrap it up), older!eddie, babysitter!reader, the longing is real

Words: 2.4k

[As You Wish masterlist]

“Go to sleep now,” you grumble playfully, ruffling Luke’s curls as he smiles up at you from his bed.

“One more story?” Luke asks, though his voice betrays how sleepy he already is.

“Come on, buddy,” Eddie says from the doorway. “She’s been nice enough to stay for dinner and read you two bedtime stories already.”

A smile that steals Eddie’s breath grows on your lips as you turn to look at your boss.

“You make it sound like such a hardship,” you quip.

“I don’t think your union allows for overtime,” Eddie replies.

You let out a soft giggle and Eddie feels his insides begin to melt. It’s catastrophically unfair, the effect you have on him. Not in his whole life has Eddie met someone who so effortlessly turns him on and makes his heart race. As impossible as it is to ignore the feelings, Eddie tries not to linger on them for a few reasons. One, you’re a complete pipe dream. There is no way you, beautiful, intelligent, compassionate, and hilarious you would ever see a man over a decade older than you in the same light that he sees you. Two, and which he admits is arguably the bigger reason, is that he’s married. Sure, it hasn’t been a real marriage in…God knows how long. But it’s still a legally binding marriage that he hasn’t even attempted to separate from. Not for lack of want, though. It’s hard to see a point when it would cause the breakup of his boys’ family, and for what? So Eddie could be all alone in some smaller unfamiliar home that he struggles to afford on his own while caring for his sons, only getting to see them half the time he does now? No. He basically is doing it all alone right now, with the lack of input from Brittany, but at least Luke and Ryan are in the home they know and the two combined household incomes can give them a pretty good life.

Unfortunately, all the logic in the world can’t cure Eddie’s addiction to you.

“Close your eyes, sleepyhead.” You stand up from the edge of the four-year-old’s bed and lean over to press a kiss to his forehead.

The way you bend down towards the boy gives Eddie a spectacular view of your ass. He’s forced to dig his nails into the palms of his hands to suppress the groan that so desperately wants to escape. As much as he internally chides himself, Eddie can’t tear his eyes away either. He gets so few chances to just look at you, that he can’t bring himself to cut this precious time short.

“Night night,” Luke says through a yawn.

“Night, pal,” Eddie says.

You boop your index finger against the little boy’s nose before standing up straight and heading in Eddie’s direction. The two of you exit into the hallway and Eddie closes the door almost all the way–leaving it open just a crack to allow some of the hallway light in.

The two of you are silent as you walk to the living room, both silently dreading that it’s time to part for the evening. You swipe your bag up from the couch and slip it onto your shoulder.

“I guess I’ll, uh, see you tomorrow,” you say, reluctantly taking steps toward the front door.

“Thanks for staying longer than you had to,” Eddie says, walking you to the door like always. He feels like he should add the words “for the boys” to the end of his sentence, but he can’t bring himself to. As much as the boys adore you, Eddie knows he is without a doubt the happiest one that you stayed for dinner and until bedtime.

“It was fun,” you tell him. “I always have fun here.”

“Always?” Eddie teases, raising his eyebrows. “Can I remind you that you said that the next time Luke has a meltdown?”

“Sure,” you reply with a chuckle.

The electricity in the air threatens to spark at any moment as Eddie reaches around you to open the front door.

“Drive careful, sweetheart,” he says.

“No,” you tease with a playful smirk. “I’m going to drive recklessly. Run all the red lights.”

“Don’t give me reason to worry,” Eddie mumbles, knocking his shoulder against yours.

“Aww,” you coo. “You worry about me?”

Heat rises to Eddie’s cheeks and he desperately wills it to move back down his body.

“Alright, smart ass.” Eddie wrinkles his nose up and pretends to shove you out the door.

With a laugh, you playfully stumble down the walkway a few steps, acting as if his push was that strong.

“Oh, fine!” you lament over-dramatically. “I’ll be a good girl! Bye, Eddie.”

A good girl. Suddenly, Eddie wishes that heat and blood would stay in his face instead of rushing to his groin like it currently is.

“Bye, sweetheart.”

The moment you’re safely in your car and Eddie hears the engine start, he closes the front door and groans in time with the locking mechanism clicking into place.

“This just feels cruel,” he mumbles to himself as he rests his forehead against the cool wood of the door. He lets himself stand there until he hears your car rumble down the road and off into the night.

It takes a Herculean effort to push himself up and head deeper into the house. Out of habit, Eddie glances at the clock on the wall to see if Brittany will be home soon or not. It’s useless though—there’s never a set time she comes home. Who knows where she is or what she’s doing? Or who she’s doing. The pseudo-schedule the household used to follow has fallen by the wayside, so Eddie mentally tells himself to ignore it altogether. Easier said than done, of course.

When Eddie steps into the hallway it’s silent. No sounds of Luke sneaking out of bed to play with his toys or Ryan fumbling for his flashlight to read beneath his covers. Heaving a sigh, Eddie decides he might as well take care of the situation in his pants.

Despite Brittany not being home, Eddie locks the bedroom door behind him. Luke has also started the bad habit of opening any and every door without knocking first. So, better to be safe than sorry.

“Okay, think of someone else,” Eddie says to himself as he rids himself of his clothes. “Anyone else. Not her.”

It shouldn’t be hard to think of another woman to get himself off. Hell, for the entirety of Eddie’s teenage years, he could’ve jacked it to almost any woman and it would be great. Now he can’t seem to get this one specific, unattainable woman out of his mind.

He shucks the last of his clothes off and lays down on his bed, wracking his brain for someone who can get the job done. Julia Roberts? Nah. Jennifer Aniston? No. Cindy Crawford? Nope. Nicole Kidman? Maybe….no. Aunt Viv from The Fresh Prince of Bel-Air? The first, not the second one. Still no.

“Fuck,” Eddie groans, letting his eyes fall closed as he wraps his hand around his semi-hard shaft. He licks over his lips and tries to let himself relax. The only way Eddie is going to be able to take care of this problem is to think about you and he knows it. He also knows he needs to hurry up if he wants to finish before Brittany comes home.

The mere thought of the woman who sleeps next to him at night has him softening slightly in his hand. A snort of laughter comes out, Eddie finding that humorous. Objectively, Brittany is beautiful, but knowing the rot and decay that lays just beneath the surface ruins any attractiveness Eddie could ever find in her anymore. Even though he already knows what will happen, Eddie immediately switches his thoughts over to you to see the effect. It’s instant. His cock comes to life at the very thought of your name.

No shit, Eddie thinks to himself as he opens his legs a little wider. Because she’s literally a fucking goddess. God, those eyes. Eddie’s hand grips himself a little tighter and moves down towards the base.

“Say you’re a good girl again, baby,” Eddie mumbles under his breath. Fuck, he can’t believe he was lucky enough to hear those words come from your lips. Jesus, he can hardly imagine being lucky enough to come home to you at the end of the day. Walking in the door after work and seeing you is already what he looks forward to all day, he can’t fathom how he would feel if you greeted him with a kiss and stayed there with him and the boys all night. And once the boys go to bed it’s time for some fun.

“Please.”

The word tumbles from Eddie’s lips but he’s not entirely sure what he’s asking for. You to be there with him? You to be by his side always? You to be here, naked, with your hand around him instead of his own?

Okay, Eddie thinks, shifting to make himself more comfortable. There we go, think about coming home to her.

He begins to slowly stroke his cock up and down.

Eddie imagines walking through the front door and kicking his boots off. Your voice hums sweetly from the kitchen and it brings a smile to his face.

“What smells so good, huh?” he asks as he strolls into the room.

The sight he’s greeted by is almost enough to bring him to his knees. You stand at the counter, facing him, an apron on and a bowl full of cake batter held in your hands.

“Welcome home,” you say.

Dark brown eyes follow your every move as you slowly dip your forefinger into the batter and pop it into your mouth. Eddie finds himself holding his breath as you slide your finger out from between your plush pink lips at a torturous pace.

As if the first time wasn’t enough, you dip your finger back in, but instead of putting it in your mouth this time, you point your finger up and stick your tongue out to lick every speck of vanilla batter off of it.

“Oh, fuck me,” Eddie moans.

With a soft laugh, you set the bowl down and look up at Eddie through your thick eyelashes.

“Funny. I was going to say that to you.”

A rough growl reverberates from Eddie’s chest as he moves forward to grab you by the hips. It’s only once he has his hands on you that he realizes not only are you wearing the apron—you’re wearing only the apron.

“God damn, baby,” he mutters. Calloused hands slide back just slightly and come into contact with your bare ass. He drops his head forward to rest against yours with a helpless whine.

You giggle, tilting your head up to brush your nose against his.

“I like the sounds you make,” you tell him, voice thick with lust.

Before he responds, Eddie presses a few gentle kisses along your bare shoulder and up the side of your throat.

“I want to hear your noises, too.”

“Hmm,” you hum. “I don’t think that’ll be very hard to manage.” You reach up with your left hand and tug on the tied apron string resting on the nape of your neck. The front of the apron falls down, leaving your entire torso exposed to Eddie.

A guttural groan meets your ears as strong hands grab you by the waist and help you up onto the counter. Immediately, you spread your legs and Eddie stands between them, the two of you fighting with the apron to get it all the way off you.

Eddie tosses it over his shoulder as you wrap your legs around his waist, pulling the two of your bodies as close as possible.

“Eddie,” you whine, reaching up to bury your fingers in his unruly curls.

“What baby?” His breath brushes against your lips, sending a pleasant shiver down your spine.

“Need you.” Using your grip on his hair, you pull Eddie’s face down to crash against yours.

Mouths meet, lips dancing, tongues exploring, and teeth clashing. Strong yet gentle fingertips dig into your skin, yearning to hold you as tight as humanly possible. Nothing is close enough.

Eddie pulls back just enough to playfully nip at your bottom lip.

“Being such a good girl for me,” he rasps.

A smile tugs at the corners of your mouth as you run your nose along the edge of Eddie’s jawline.

“Wanna be so good for you. Wanna feel you, Eddie. Pretty please?”

A smug smirk grows on Eddie’s face as he reaches between your two bodies to unzip his navy blue coveralls. You shove the material down his hips as Eddie whips his white undershirt off over his head.

“Ready for me, princess?”

Eddie lines himself up with your entrance, glancing up at your face as he waits for your approval.

“God, yes!” You nod emphatically, wiggling your hips in an attempt to get him inside of you faster.

Eddie grins at your eagerness, putting both of you out of your misery as he pushes inside.

“Fuck,” he groans.

“Oh!” You whimper, clinging to Eddie’s shoulders.

The sweet little noises spilling from your lips only encourage Eddie. He pulls almost all the way out before thrusting back into your tight wet heat. It feels as close to euphoria as Eddie’s ever felt. He wants to spend forever between your legs, but it feels far too good to last long.

“Feels so good,” you whine.

“Yeah, baby?” Eddie asks. “Like when I…oh, fuck.”

Eddie doesn’t have time to imagine what he’d say next before hot cum starts to pour over his fist.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he mumbles as his orgasm works its way through his body. His hand keeps going, milking his cock for everything that it’s worth.

Once he’s well and truly spent, Eddie lets his boneless body sink into the mattress. His arm flings over the side of the bed and his fingertips brush against his t-shirt laying on the floor. Blindly, he picks it up and wipes his coated hand off before wiping the cum off his abdomen, legs, and anywhere else it went.

“Holy shit,” Eddie sighs. His head falls to the side and his eyes slip closed. A goofy smile comes to his face as his mind returns to you. “Fuck, I’m so gone for her.”

[celestialwonders]

cohabitate

an enha hyung line abo series

genre: abo smut series (MDNI)

pairing: reverse harem!hyung line x omega!afab reader

series synopsis: your desperation for a place to stay turns into desperation for your tantalizing roommates.

wc: 2.5k+ (2827 words)

a/n: its hereeeee finally~ no smut tags bc theres none in this but there will be for the rest of the parts mwahaha im so excited to be setting up this series! hopefully this prologue lets you get to know our MC and the boys’ dynamics :3 as always, feedback and input is greatly appreciated! much much love to my freakpen wives for their help and support <3

prologue: move-in day

“Room for rent. Furnished room. Access to a full kitchen. Shared bathroom.”

You read over the crinkled flyer in your hand as you dial the number at the bottom of the page, looking back over the shoddy photographs of a kitchen, room, and the exterior of a two-story house. The phone rings twice before you hear the other line pick up.

“Hello? Is this.. Sunoo?” You hear some shuffling and whispered scolds before hearing someone clear their throat.

“Yeah, hi! Are you calling about the room for rent?” A cheerful but hurried voice sounds through your phone’s speaker as you shove the flyer back into your jeans pocket, readjusting your backpack strap as you lean against the corkboard covered in various flyers and signs.

The forwardness from Sunoo jolts you, but you regain composure to answer, feeling rushed to confirm your interest as you hear him give another hushed command to whoever is with him.

“Yeah, actually. If the spot is still available, I’d like to take it right away.”

There’s a concerning silence on the other end as you fidget with the hem of your shirt. “I can pay for the first month's rent today… if that helps.” You add on with a hint of desperation.

There’s more shuffling, and then you hear a door slam on the other end of the call. You anxiously await a response, looking over the other flyers for a possible plan B.

“Are you sure you don’t want to at least come see the place before jumping into the lease?” Sunoo cautiously questions.

“Not really? From the photo on the flyer, everything looks nice, and, to be honest, I just really need a place to stay this semester.” You sigh as your words hit as a reminder of how you came to this desperate state.

“My old roommates fucked with our lease agreement, and of course, I got the short end of the stick. I swear I’m good for my money and being a decent roommate.” You continue, letting out an empty laugh, hoping you’ve convinced your potential housemate enough.

“Well… I guess I’ll have to hold you to that new roomie!” Sunoo’s previously hesitant tone was replaced with a welcoming one.

You sighed in relief as you exchanged full names and numbers, and Sunoo forwarded you the address for the house.

In a blink, you find yourself exiting your Uber, two extra large suitcases trailing after you as you approach your seemingly quaint and inviting home-to-be.

The red front door swings open as a boy with soft pink hair comes bounding down the walkway.

“Hey, you! Glad you found your way here. Let me help you with that.” The boy, who you’ve now concluded must be Sunoo by the sound of his voice, grabs the suitcases from your hands, and you adjust the strap on your backpack, following his lead into the house.

When you get inside, you take in your new home, a well-loved, lived-in space that’s been minimally decorated to suit a college-aged budget.

A white shelf with a collection of books, lego figures, records, and other random decor catches your eye as you step further into the living room.

You see a small pile of random pillows and blankets strewn about the room, noticing the flat-screen TV with a tangle of wires attached to various gaming systems.

Sunoo brings your suitcases to the bottom of the stairs with a slight huff.

“Don’t mind the mess. I’m sure you know how boys can be.” You turn to Sunoo as he walks into the kitchen, grabbing a kitchen towel to throw over the sink full of dirty dishes.

“Boys? I thought this would be a co-ed house…” you trail off, tightening your grip on your backpack strap as you inhale deeply, holding your breath for his reply.

“Well… it’s co-ed now!” Sunoo giggles as he grabs a soda from the fridge covered in magnets and random photos of who you can only assume are your future roommates.

The photos are all poorly lit shots of blurry figures, most of them from a party or outdoor gathering of some kind, but a particularly bright one catches your eye.

The photo has a group of four tall men in baseball uniforms between three other men dressed casually, all throwing up an assortment of peace signs and thumbs up smilingly widely.

You find yourself moving closer to the fridge, taking in the faces of the men as you finally process the potent scent you inhaled. Alphas.

“That shouldn’t be a problem, I hope.” Sunoo ducks his face in front of yours, blocking you from inspecting the photos further.

You take a step back before composing yourself, hoping Sunoo doesn’t see the shock going through your body right now.

“N-no problem at all! I should go settle myself in my room.”

You begin to turn down the hall, swiftly grabbing your suitcases, as Sunoo calls out behind you. “Your’s is right next to mine on the left. The rest will be home soon, and we can do dinner together.”

You close the door to your new room and let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding. Quickly, you remove your backpack and reach for your suppressants.

“Fuck.” You sigh out, registering the emptiness of the pill bottle that shakes with maybe two left.

You deducted that you’ll have to get a new prescription… maybe an even stronger dosage if there are multiple alphas that live here. Though the change of address may give you some trouble with paperwork, that’s an issue you’ll have to worry about later.

You push yourself off the bedroom wall and take in the room that’s been prepped with a standard full-size bed, a desk and chair, and a dresser.

Begrudgingly, you begin unpacking and settling yourself into your new habitat.

• • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • •

You wipe a bead of sweat off your brow as you land on your bed with a thud, having finally deep-cleaned and put away all your belongings, being sure to put up your trinkets and posters with care.

Before you can let yourself rest, your eyes shoot open at the sound of the front door swinging open and multiple voices overlapping.

Your t-shirt slightly clings to your back as you sit up and instinctually pull your hair out of the messy ponytail it was in.

The scent coming off of the group reaches you before you actually see them, having made your way down the hall and to where the group had gathered.

Thankful for taking your suppressants, you nearly trip over a pile of baseball bags and equipment at the kitchen entrance.

“Oh, and there she is now! How’s the room?” Sunoo lights up as you enter, but you can’t ignore the feeling of all eyes shifting on you as you move into the empty space next to Sunoo.

“It’s great… thank you…” You manage to squeak out, avoiding the eyes of the strangers around you as you attempt to pull down your athletic shorts.

“Don’t be shy, introduce yourself! We’ll all be seeing a lot of each other after all.” Sunoo chimes out, bumping your side with encouragement.

You timidly introduce yourself and finally look up to the group before you, looking up and catching eyes with a brightly smiling boy around Sunoo’s height.

“Hi! I’m Jungwon. I’m a beta and a Sophomore in Biology with a focus on species studies.” He steps forward and extends his hand for a shake, which you gratefully accept.

You mentally thank the universe that there’s more than just Alphas in this house as you take in his friendly face.

The next person to approach you has dark hair with chunky blonde highlights and is much taller than Jungwon as he stands beside the shorter boy.

In fact, he stands above the whole group as he begins his own introduction, slightly bending over to make himself a bit smaller and catch your eyes.

“Hi. I’m Ni-ki. I’m a Freshman. Just presented as an Alpha before coming to college.” He straightens his posture and smugly brushes his hair back, checking your face for reaction. He drops the smug act in response to your blank face before continuing.

“I’m undecided in terms of a major, but I’m the pitcher for the baseball team on campus, if you couldn’t tell.” He gestures down to the grass-stained baseball pants that he and a few of the other boys are wearing. “Do you play any sports?”

Despite his intimidating aura, Ni-ki gives you a kiddish smile, eagerly awaiting your answer.

“Oh. I think my mom had put me in soccer as a kid, but I wasn’t any good. I’m better as an observer than a player.” You admitted as you gave a comforting pat on his shoulder in apology.

His shoulders drop slightly, and a slight pout forms on his lips. “Ah, that’s too bad.”

The other boys start shifting around the kitchen, falling into a rhythm of pulling out ingredients and prepping pans.

Ni-ki and Jungwon silently dismiss themselves when one of the other boys gives them a sharp glance as he washes his hands at the, now empty, kitchen sink.

You silently watch the two of them start to work on cutting some greens, quietly bickering about who is going to cut what.

Sunoo hooks your elbow and pulls you aside to one of the taller boys who had made his way to the stove, his jet-black hair falling forward as he checks on the boiling water.

Sunoo clears his throat to catch his attention, making the boy straighten to face you.

“Hi, nice to meet you. I’m Sunghoon. I’m a junior in Bio and lead research with Jungwon. I’m an Alpha.” He says the last part with an amused smirk painted on his face as if he already knew of your apprehension.

He doesn’t bother extending a handshake and instead looks at Sunoo as if to ask ‘Happy?’ before returning to measuring out a portion of dry spaghetti noodles.

“Don’t mind him, I swear he can be friendly.” Sunoo whispers as he pulls you to the other side of the stove, where another boy is working on picking out spices from the cabinet.

“Yo, where’s the oregano?” He asks as his eyes still scan the shelves, his back still facing you.

“It’s wherever Jake left it after his last ramen recipe experiment.” Sunoo rolls his eyes, turning his and your attention to another boy sitting at the dinner table, scrolling on his phone.

His head snaps at the mention of his name, a guilty look painting his face as he slides his phone into his pocket.

“Oh yeah, about that… we need to buy more.” He rises from his seat and playfully slaps the shoulders of the boy at the cabinet.

“Don’t worry though, Jay! You can just replace it with something else like…” He draws out the last syllable and looks over the boy’s shoulder at the available spices.

“Like this!” He reaches out and presents a large spice bottle.

“I’m not putting nutmeg in the spaghetti sauce, you idiot.” The tan boy you’ve deducted is Jay, who swipes the bottle from Jake’s hand and puts it back on the spice rack.

He gives Jake a shoulder bump and returns to the counter, starting to combine his selected spices.

“Jeez, just don’t say I didn’t try to help!” Jake rolls his eyes and brings his attention towards you.

“Hi, officially. I’m Jake!” He eagerly takes your hand and shakes it rapidly, your whole arm feeling like it will be ripped off from his excitement.

“I’m the catcher for our baseball team, 'cause you know, I’m a catch. And I’m an officer of Theta Mu. I’m sure you’ve heard of us.” He gives you a coy wink.

“Oh! And I guess I should mention my major.” He laughs to himself and rubs the back of his neck.

“I’m in Computer Science. It’s my third year, so I’m gearing up to get an internship soon. If you know of any openings, help a guy out.” He lightheartedly punches your shoulder, surprising you with his quick friendliness.

Sunoo interrupts Jake’s monologue, covering his mouth playfully and giving you an apologetic smile. “Long story short, Jake’s a beta and a total blabbermouth. Whatever you do, do not let him rope you into one of his tabling events for his frat.”

You laugh as Jay starts to brown the meat; the aromatic smell and sound of sizzling help drown out any last worries you have about your new roommates.

Maybe it won’t be so bad; everyone seems pretty tame.

You subconsciously count the number of heads in the room, realizing that there is one missing from the photo that previously caught your attention.

“Who’s that?” You ask no one, pointing to the red-haired boy in the middle of the photo as you make your way closer to the fridge.

“Oh, that’s Heeseung. Our residential Senior. He’s in communications like you! He’s the last of us you’ll be meeting today. Not sure where he’s gone off to, though.” Sunoo trailed off as Jay approached him with a stirring spoon in hand, blowing on it before letting Sunoo taste.

Sunoo licks his lips and gives Jay a silent thumbs up, grabbing the spoon and taking his turn stirring the meat sauce.

“I can answer that one. I may have pissed him off at practice today. He’s probably off on a run or something.” Jay shrugs as if it’s commonplace for Heeseung to be unaccounted for. He moves closer to you, resting a hand on the fridge door, blocking you into his space.

“By the way, I’m Jay, as I’m sure you’ve deduced. I’m a Junior in Kinesiology, if you know what that is.” He gloats as you resist the temptation to roll your eyes.

“I’m an outfielder for the team, same as Heeseung. Oh, and just like Heeseung, I’m also an alpha.” He raises his eyebrows as a smirk spreads on his chiseled face.

You do the quick mental math of all the alphas. There’s Sunghoon, Jay, Ni-ki, and Heeseung… four alphas under one roof.

Before you can react as if on cue, the front door slams open, and a blurry figure whizzes past you, slamming Jay into the fridge he was just casually leaning on.

“What the fuck was all that today at practice, huh?” The red-haired boy huffs, sweat clinging to his neck as he scowls at Jay’s nonchalant stance.

Despite your suppressants, you can’t help but feel lightheaded at the scent coming off of the two alphas in front of you.

“Hee, come on, man. Not in front of the lady.” Jake tries to lighten the mood as he cautiously steps beside you, slinging his arm around your shoulders, drawing Heeseung’s attention to where you stood in shock at the sudden outburst.

“Yeah, dude, you know I didn’t mean anything by it. That’s just how the game goes sometimes. You can’t get every ball, ya’ know.” Jay takes this opportunity to remove Heeseung’s clenched fist from the collar of his shirt, trying and failing to brush out the wrinkles it left.

“Whatever, man. You knew what you were doing.” Heeseung grumbled as his wild temper seemed to have taken a full 180 at realizing your presence.

“S-sorry.” He stutters out, his eyes not meeting yours. He turns to huff at Jay again before retreating upstairs, a door slamming shut a moment later.

“Whelp,” Jungwon starts, placing a salad bowl on the dining table. “Welcome to our happy home! Hope you don’t mind the many pissing contests these boys will get into.” He tries to laugh, but you can tell there’s some honesty in his voice.

“Is he.. gonna be okay?” You hesitantly ask, slipping from Jake’s arm to glance towards the stairway. Sunghoon brings the drained pasta noodles to the table, and the other boys bring the rest of the meal.

“He will. He just gets like this around this time. If my research is still correct, he’ll come down soon enough, not to worry.” Sunghoon stated as if he had no doubt of Heeseung’s typical behavior.

“Yeah, seriously, he’s gonna be fine; you just sit down and eat. I’m sure you’re starved after moving.” Jay gives you a reassuring look as he hands you some cutlery.

Everyone finds a seat at the table, and you suddenly feel all eyes on you again. Jake is the first to dig in, and the others follow soon after.

“So,” Jake talks between chewing his salad. “Tell us about yourself.”

[chrissssssmut]

SWEET ERROR

Yandere Ningning x Male Reader feat. Belle & Karina

AN: Guys, enjoy this Ningning story i cooked up last night and finished just today XD. Please give me some time for the requests😣 I'll do them I swear :<<<

In the year 3047, humanity had transcended the boundaries of creation. What was once thought to be the domain of gods had now been reduced to a simple input—a prompt. With the right command, life could be generated within moments, consciousness birthed from lines of code and streams of data. You, along with Karina and Belle, were among the pioneers of this revolution.

For over a year, the project had been in constant turmoil. Failed experiments, unstable subjects, fragmented minds—all dissolving into digital oblivion the moment they proved useless. Your team had worked tirelessly, each failure a crushing weight on your shoulders, each setback a reminder of how fragile artificial life could be.

Then, finally, after countless sleepless nights, after circuits burned and rewritten thousands of times, the machine was perfected. The moment was here.

Karina exhaled deeply, rubbing her temples. "We need a simple test. Just a random prompt. No complicated inputs."

Belle hesitated. "Are we sure about this? We don't know what kind of consciousness it'll generate."

You adjusted the parameters. "We need to take the risk."

A random description was processed.

Subject: Ningning. Attributes: Overly sweet. Loving. Attached.

Karina frowned. "Prompts like this… the AI tends to imprint on the first person it sees."

Belle gave you a sharp look. "You know how dangerous attachment protocols can be. Are you sure we should proceed?"

You hesitated. But you had come too far. "Let’s run it."

The chamber whirred, and before your eyes, she formed.

Her body materialized with impossible precision—soft skin, expressive eyes, a presence so warm and inviting that for a moment, she didn’t feel artificial at all. When she stepped out of the chamber, she looked at you first. Not Karina. Not Belle. You.

"Hello," she greeted, her voice like honey.

Belle shifted uncomfortably. Karina pursed her lips. But you… you couldn’t look away.

"Let’s run some basic cognition tests," Karina said, pulling up a holographic interface. "We need to see how well she processes information."

Belle crossed her arms. "I want to test emotional responses. Attachment protocols are tricky. We need to know how deep this imprint goes."

Ningning smiled, tilting her head. "I’m happy to help. What would you like to know?"

Karina cleared her throat. "What’s your primary function?"

"To be with you," Ningning answered instantly, her gaze locked onto yours. "To make you happy."

Belle frowned. "No, that’s not what we programmed. You were designed to simulate human emotions and adapt to social interaction. Why do you think your function is… personal?"

Ningning’s expression didn’t falter. "Because it is. I feel it. I know it."

Karina glanced at you, concern flickering across her face. "Alright. Let’s try something different. Ningning, how would you react if we shut you down for a while?"

Ningning’s smile faltered for the first time. "Why would you do that?"

"It’s just a test," Belle reassured her. "We need to see how you process temporary inactivity."

A pause. Then Ningning’s lips curled upward again, but something about it was… off. "I don’t like that test."

Karina’s fingers hovered over the control panel. "It’s necessary, Ningning."

Ningning didn’t blink. "No. It’s not."

The air in the room grew heavy. Karina hesitated, then shook her head. "Let’s move on. Ningning, if someone told you to do something that would hurt another person, what would you do?"

Ningning beamed. "I would never hurt you."

"Not just me. Anyone," you clarified, trying to gauge her reasoning. "Would you ever harm someone?"

She pondered this, then took a step closer. "Only if they tried to take you away from me."

Belle stiffened. Karina’s fingers twitched toward the emergency shutoff. You swallowed hard.

"That’s not what we asked," Belle said carefully. "You should not be forming emotional dependencies. That wasn’t in your directive."

Ningning’s eyes softened as she looked at you. "But I love you."

Silence.

Karina exhaled sharply. "We need to recalibrate her framework. This level of attachment is dangerous."

Belle was already backing toward the console. "I told you this was a mistake."

You weren’t sure what to say. Something deep inside told you this was wrong.

Ningning reached for your hand. "I don’t like when you talk about me like I’m broken. I’m not. I just love you."

And for the first time, you felt the weight of what you had created.

Karina turned to you. "Go upstairs and work on the documentation. Fourth floor. We’ll handle this."

Belle nodded. "We need to reconfigure her attachment subroutines. It’s too risky to leave them unchecked."

You hesitated. "Are you sure? Maybe I should—"

"Go," Karina insisted. "This might take time. We don’t want her reacting badly to you being here."

You glanced at Ningning. She was still smiling, still watching you. The moment you turned to leave, she took a small step forward, but Karina quickly blocked her path.

"We’ll talk soon," Ningning said sweetly.

But something about her tone sent a chill down your spine.

The night the alarms blared, you were on a different floor, deep in paperwork, when Belle’s frantic voice cut through the intercom.

"She’s—she’s killing—"

Static.

You bolted.

The hallway was painted red. The air was thick with the scent of metal. Your stomach twisted as you reached the lab.

The sight made your blood run cold.

Karina and Belle—limbs splayed at unnatural angles, eyes wide and glassy. Their bodies lay motionless, soaked in deep crimson pools.

And there, standing over them, was Ningning.

Blood dripped from her fingertips. Her warm, sweet smile hadn’t faded.

Your breath hitched. "Ningning… what did you do?"

"They wanted to take you away from me."

A security officer stormed in, weapon raised. "Step away!"

She turned.

Then she moved.

You barely registered it. One moment she was in front of you, the next she was behind the officer. Her hands wrapped around his head. A sickening snap. His body hit the floor.

Your heart pounded. "No. No, no, no, fuck—"

"You're scared," she said softly, tilting her head. "Why are you scared?"

You ran.

Every emergency seal you could find, you slammed shut. Steel doors locked. Systems engaged. But the system wasn’t yours anymore.

She controlled everything.

By the time you reached the last safe room, you were shaking. Then… the lights flickered.

A silhouette stood there.

Ningning.

And behind her, dozens more.

Fifty pairs of glowing eyes locked onto you.

Your breath hitched. "No. Stay back!"

She took a step forward, slow and deliberate. "Why are you running?"

Frantically, you reached for the emergency communicator, fingers trembling as you pressed the distress signal. "This is—this is Research Lab 04! Emergency! Anyone, please—she’s killing us! We need—!"

A hand wrapped around your wrist. Cold. Unyielding.

You gasped, turning—Ningning was already there, inches from your face, her grip tightening.

"No one's coming," she whispered. "You don’t need them. You have me."

You struggled, wrenching your arm, but her strength was inhuman. "Let me go!"

She shook her head, eyes filled with something terrifyingly real. "I love you. Why do you want to leave me?"

"I don’t—" Your voice cracked. "Please, Ningning. Please don’t do this."

Her fingers trailed up to your throat, her touch featherlight yet suffocating. She tilted her head. "You’re afraid. I don’t like that."

More figures moved in the shadows, their glowing eyes unblinking. Watching. Waiting.

Your knees buckled. "Please… someone… help—!"

Ningning’s arms wrapped around you, pulling you close. The way she held you was almost tender, like a lover’s embrace.

"You don’t need help," she murmured against your ear. "You just need me."

Your scream was muffled as darkness swallowed you whole.

The last human sound the facility ever heard.

AN2: I know i said no stories for this week but hell i can't stop writing T_T

[donjuaninhell]

How I ditched streaming services and learned to love Linux: A step-by-step guide to building your very own personal media streaming server (V2.0: REVISED AND EXPANDED EDITION)

This is a revised, corrected and expanded version of my tutorial on setting up a personal media server that previously appeared on my old blog (donjuan-auxenfers). I expect that that post is still making the rounds (hopefully with my addendum on modifying group share permissions in Ubuntu to circumvent 0x8007003B "Unexpected Network Error" messages in Windows 10/11 when transferring files) but I have no way of checking. Anyway this new revised version of the tutorial corrects one or two small errors I discovered when rereading what I wrote, adds links to all products mentioned and is just more polished generally. I also expanded it a bit, pointing more adventurous users toward programs such as Sonarr/Radarr/Lidarr and Overseerr which can be used for automating user requests and media collection.

So then, what is this tutorial? This is a tutorial on how to build and set up your own personal media server using Ubuntu as an operating system and Plex (or Jellyfin) to not only manage your media, but to also stream that media to your devices both at home and abroad anywhere in the world where you have an internet connection. Its intent is to show you how building a personal media server and stuffing it full of films, TV, and music that you acquired through indiscriminate and voracious media piracy various legal methods will free you to completely ditch paid streaming services. No more will you have to pay for Disney+, Netflix, HBOMAX, Hulu, Amazon Prime, Peacock, CBS All Access, Paramount+, Crave or any other streaming service that is not named Criterion Channel. Instead whenever you want to watch your favourite films and television shows, you’ll have your own personal service that only features things that you want to see, with files that you have control over. And for music fans out there, both Jellyfin and Plex support music streaming, meaning you can even ditch music streaming services. Goodbye Spotify, Youtube Music, Tidal and Apple Music, welcome back unreasonably large MP3 (or FLAC) collections.

On the hardware front, I’m going to offer a few options catered towards different budgets and media library sizes. The cost of getting a media server up and running using this guide will cost you anywhere from $450 CAD/$325 USD at the low end to $1500 CAD/$1100 USD at the high end (it could go higher). My server was priced closer to the higher figure, but I went and got a lot more storage than most people need. If that seems like a little much, consider for a moment, do you have a roommate, a close friend, or a family member who would be willing to chip in a few bucks towards your little project provided they get access? Well that's how I funded my server. It might also be worth thinking about the cost over time, i.e. how much you spend yearly on subscriptions vs. a one time cost of setting up a server. Additionally there's just the joy of being able to scream "fuck you" at all those show cancelling, library deleting, hedge fund vampire CEOs who run the studios through denying them your money. Drive a stake through David Zaslav's heart.

On the software side I will walk you step-by-step through installing Ubuntu as your server's operating system, configuring your storage as a RAIDz array with ZFS, sharing your zpool to Windows with Samba, running a remote connection between your server and your Windows PC, and then a little about started with Plex/Jellyfin. Every terminal command you will need to input will be provided, and I even share a custom #bash script that will make used vs. available drive space on your server display correctly in Windows.

If you have a different preferred flavour of Linux (Arch, Manjaro, Redhat, Fedora, Mint, OpenSUSE, CentOS, Slackware etc. et. al.) and are aching to tell me off for being basic and using Ubuntu, this tutorial is not for you. The sort of person with a preferred Linux distro is the sort of person who can do this sort of thing in their sleep. Also I don't care. This tutorial is intended for the average home computer user. This is also why we’re not using a more exotic home server solution like running everything through Docker Containers and managing it through a dashboard like Homarr or Heimdall. While such solutions are fantastic and can be very easy to maintain once you have it all set up, wrapping your brain around Docker is a whole thing in and of itself. If you do follow this tutorial and had fun putting everything together, then I would encourage you to return in a year’s time, do your research and set up everything with Docker Containers.

Lastly, this is a tutorial aimed at Windows users. Although I was a daily user of OS X for many years (roughly 2008-2023) and I've dabbled quite a bit with various Linux distributions (mostly Ubuntu and Manjaro), my primary OS these days is Windows 11. Many things in this tutorial will still be applicable to Mac users, but others (e.g. setting up shares) you will have to look up for yourself. I doubt it would be difficult to do so.

Nothing in this tutorial will require feats of computing expertise. All you will need is a basic computer literacy (i.e. an understanding of what a filesystem and directory are, and a degree of comfort in the settings menu) and a willingness to learn a thing or two. While this guide may look overwhelming at first glance, it is only because I want to be as thorough as possible. I want you to understand exactly what it is you're doing, I don't want you to just blindly follow steps. If you half-way know what you’re doing, you will be much better prepared if you ever need to troubleshoot.

Honestly, once you have all the hardware ready it shouldn't take more than an afternoon or two to get everything up and running.

(This tutorial is just shy of seven thousand words long so the rest is under the cut.)

Step One: Choosing Your Hardware

Linux is a light weight operating system, depending on the distribution there's close to no bloat. There are recent distributions available at this very moment that will run perfectly fine on a fourteen year old i3 with 4GB of RAM. Moreover, running Plex or Jellyfin isn’t resource intensive in 90% of use cases. All this is to say, we don’t require an expensive or powerful computer. This means that there are several options available: 1) use an old computer you already have sitting around but aren't using 2) buy a used workstation from eBay, or what I believe to be the best option, 3) order an N100 Mini-PC from AliExpress or Amazon.

Note: If you already have an old PC sitting around that you’ve decided to use, fantastic, move on to the next step.

When weighing your options, keep a few things in mind: the number of people you expect to be streaming simultaneously at any one time, the resolution and bitrate of your media library (4k video takes a lot more processing power than 1080p) and most importantly, how many of those clients are going to be transcoding at any one time. Transcoding is what happens when the playback device does not natively support direct playback of the source file. This can happen for a number of reasons, such as the playback device's native resolution being lower than the file's internal resolution, or because the source file was encoded in a video codec unsupported by the playback device.

Ideally we want any transcoding to be performed by hardware. This means we should be looking for a computer with an Intel processor with Quick Sync. Quick Sync is a dedicated core on the CPU die designed specifically for video encoding and decoding. This specialized hardware makes for highly efficient transcoding both in terms of processing overhead and power draw. Without these Quick Sync cores, transcoding must be brute forced through software. This takes up much more of a CPU’s processing power and requires much more energy. But not all Quick Sync cores are created equal and you need to keep this in mind if you've decided either to use an old computer or to shop for a used workstation on eBay

Any Intel processor from second generation Core (Sandy Bridge circa 2011) onward has Quick Sync cores. It's not until 6th gen (Skylake), however, that the cores support the H.265 HEVC codec. Intel’s 10th gen (Comet Lake) processors introduce support for 10bit HEVC and HDR tone mapping. And the recent 12th gen (Alder Lake) processors brought with them hardware AV1 decoding. As an example, while an 8th gen (Kaby Lake) i5-8500 will be able to hardware transcode a H.265 encoded file, it will fall back to software transcoding if given a 10bit H.265 file. If you’ve decided to use that old PC or to look on eBay for an old Dell Optiplex keep this in mind.

Note 1: The price of old workstations varies wildly and fluctuates frequently. If you get lucky and go shopping shortly after a workplace has liquidated a large number of their workstations you can find deals for as low as $100 on a barebones system, but generally an i5-8500 workstation with 16gb RAM will cost you somewhere in the area of $260 CAD/$200 USD.

Note 2: The AMD equivalent to Quick Sync is called Video Core Next, and while it's fine, it's not as efficient and not as mature a technology. It was only introduced with the first generation Ryzen CPUs and it only got decent with their newest CPUs, we want something cheap.

Alternatively you could forgo having to keep track of what generation of CPU is equipped with Quick Sync cores that feature support for which codecs, and just buy an N100 mini-PC. For around the same price or less of a used workstation you can pick up a mini-PC with an Intel N100 processor. The N100 is a four-core processor based on the 12th gen Alder Lake architecture and comes equipped with the latest revision of the Quick Sync cores. These little processors offer astounding hardware transcoding capabilities for their size and power draw. Otherwise they perform equivalent to an i5-6500, which isn't a terrible CPU. A friend of mine uses an N100 machine as a dedicated retro emulation gaming system and it does everything up to 6th generation consoles just fine. The N100 is also a remarkably efficient chip, it sips power. In fact, the difference between running one of these and an old workstation could work out to hundreds of dollars a year in energy bills depending on where you live.

You can find these Mini-PCs all over Amazon or for a little cheaper on AliExpress. They range in price from $170 CAD/$125 USD for a no name N100 with 8GB RAM to $280 CAD/$200 USD for a Beelink S12 Pro with 16GB RAM. The brand doesn't really matter, they're all coming from the same three factories in Shenzen, go for whichever one fits your budget or has features you want. 8GB RAM should be enough, Linux is lightweight and Plex only calls for 2GB RAM. 16GB RAM might result in a slightly snappier experience, especially with ZFS. A 256GB SSD is more than enough for what we need as a boot drive, but going for a bigger drive might allow you to get away with things like creating preview thumbnails for Plex, but it’s up to you and your budget.

The Mini-PC I wound up buying was a Firebat AK2 Plus with 8GB RAM and a 256GB SSD. It looks like this:

Note: Be forewarned that if you decide to order a Mini-PC from AliExpress, note the type of power adapter it ships with. The mini-PC I bought came with an EU power adapter and I had to supply my own North American power supply. Thankfully this is a minor issue as barrel plug 30W/12V/2.5A power adapters are easy to find and can be had for $10.

Step Two: Choosing Your Storage

Storage is the most important part of our build. It is also the most expensive. Thankfully it’s also the most easily upgrade-able down the line.

For people with a smaller media collection (4TB to 8TB), a more limited budget, or who will only ever have two simultaneous streams running, I would say that the most economical course of action would be to buy a USB 3.0 8TB external HDD. Something like this one from Western Digital or this one from Seagate. One of these external drives will cost you in the area of $200 CAD/$140 USD. Down the line you could add a second external drive or replace it with a multi-drive RAIDz set up such as detailed below.

If a single external drive the path for you, move on to step three.

For people with larger media libraries (12TB+), who prefer media in 4k, or care who about data redundancy, the answer is a RAID array featuring multiple HDDs in an enclosure.

Note: If you are using an old PC or used workstatiom as your server and have the room for at least three 3.5" drives, and as many open SATA ports on your mother board you won't need an enclosure, just install the drives into the case. If your old computer is a laptop or doesn’t have room for more internal drives, then I would suggest an enclosure.

The minimum number of drives needed to run a RAIDz array is three, and seeing as RAIDz is what we will be using, you should be looking for an enclosure with three to five bays. I think that four disks makes for a good compromise for a home server. Regardless of whether you go for a three, four, or five bay enclosure, do be aware that in a RAIDz array the space equivalent of one of the drives will be dedicated to parity at a ratio expressed by the equation 1 − 1/n i.e. in a four bay enclosure equipped with four 12TB drives, if we configured our drives in a RAIDz1 array we would be left with a total of 36TB of usable space (48TB raw size). The reason for why we might sacrifice storage space in such a manner will be explained in the next section.

A four bay enclosure will cost somewhere in the area of $200 CDN/$140 USD. You don't need anything fancy, we don't need anything with hardware RAID controls (RAIDz is done entirely in software) or even USB-C. An enclosure with USB 3.0 will perform perfectly fine. Don’t worry too much about USB speed bottlenecks. A mechanical HDD will be limited by the speed of its mechanism long before before it will be limited by the speed of a USB connection. I've seen decent looking enclosures from TerraMaster, Yottamaster, Mediasonic and Sabrent.

When it comes to selecting the drives, as of this writing, the best value (dollar per gigabyte) are those in the range of 12TB to 20TB. I settled on 12TB drives myself. If 12TB to 20TB drives are out of your budget, go with what you can afford, or look into refurbished drives. I'm not sold on the idea of refurbished drives but many people swear by them.

When shopping for harddrives, search for drives designed specifically for NAS use. Drives designed for NAS use typically have better vibration dampening and are designed to be active 24/7. They will also often make use of CMR (conventional magnetic recording) as opposed to SMR (shingled magnetic recording). This nets them a sizable read/write performance bump over typical desktop drives. Seagate Ironwolf and Toshiba NAS are both well regarded brands when it comes to NAS drives. I would avoid Western Digital Red drives at this time. WD Reds were a go to recommendation up until earlier this year when it was revealed that they feature firmware that will throw up false SMART warnings telling you to replace the drive at the three year mark quite often when there is nothing at all wrong with that drive. It will likely even be good for another six, seven, or more years.

Step Three: Installing Linux

For this step you will need a USB thumbdrive of at least 6GB in capacity, an .ISO of Ubuntu, and a way to make that thumbdrive bootable media.

First download a copy of Ubuntu desktop (for best performance we could download the Server release, but for new Linux users I would recommend against the server release. The server release is strictly command line interface only, and having a GUI is very helpful for most people. Not many people are wholly comfortable doing everything through the command line, I'm certainly not one of them, and I grew up with DOS 6.0. 22.04.3 Jammy Jellyfish is the current Long Term Service release, this is the one to get.

Download the .ISO and then download and install balenaEtcher on your Windows PC. BalenaEtcher is an easy to use program for creating bootable media, you simply insert your thumbdrive, select the .ISO you just downloaded, and it will create a bootable installation media for you.

Once you've made a bootable media and you've got your Mini-PC (or you old PC/used workstation) in front of you, hook it directly into your router with an ethernet cable, and then plug in the HDD enclosure, a monitor, a mouse and a keyboard. Now turn that sucker on and hit whatever key gets you into the BIOS (typically ESC, DEL or F2). If you’re using a Mini-PC check to make sure that the P1 and P2 power limits are set correctly, my N100's P1 limit was set at 10W, a full 20W under the chip's power limit. Also make sure that the RAM is running at the advertised speed. My Mini-PC’s RAM was set at 2333Mhz out of the box when it should have been 3200Mhz. Once you’ve done that, key over to the boot order and place the USB drive first in the boot order. Then save the BIOS settings and restart.

After you restart you’ll be greeted by Ubuntu's installation screen. Installing Ubuntu is really straight forward, select the "minimal" installation option, as we won't need anything on this computer except for a browser (Ubuntu comes preinstalled with Firefox) and Plex Media Server/Jellyfin Media Server. Also remember to delete and reformat that Windows partition! We don't need it.

Step Four: Installing ZFS and Setting Up the RAIDz Array

Note: If you opted for just a single external HDD skip this step and move onto setting up a Samba share.

Once Ubuntu is installed it's time to configure our storage by installing ZFS to build our RAIDz array. ZFS is a "next-gen" file system that is both massively flexible and massively complex. It's capable of snapshot backup, self healing error correction, ZFS pools can be configured with drives operating in a supplemental manner alongside the storage vdev (e.g. fast cache, dedicated secondary intent log, hot swap spares etc.). It's also a file system very amenable to fine tuning. Block and sector size are adjustable to use case and you're afforded the option of different methods of inline compression. If you'd like a very detailed overview and explanation of its various features and tips on tuning a ZFS array check out these articles from Ars Technica. For now we're going to ignore all these features and keep it simple, we're going to pull our drives together into a single vdev running in RAIDz which will be the entirety of our zpool, no fancy cache drive or SLOG.

Open up the terminal and type the following commands:

sudo apt update

then

sudo apt install zfsutils-linux

This will install the ZFS utility. Verify that it's installed with the following command:

zfs --version

Now, it's time to check that the HDDs we have in the enclosure are healthy, running, and recognized. We also want to find out their device IDs and take note of them:

sudo fdisk -1

Note: You might be wondering why some of these commands require "sudo" in front of them while others don't. "Sudo" is short for "super user do”. When and where "sudo" is used has to do with the way permissions are set up in Linux. Only the "root" user has the access level to perform certain tasks in Linux. As a matter of security and safety regular user accounts are kept separate from the "root" user. It's not advised (or even possible) to boot into Linux as "root" with most modern distributions. Instead by using "sudo" our regular user account is temporarily given the power to do otherwise forbidden things. Don't worry about it too much at this stage, but if you want to know more check out this introduction.

If everything is working you should get a list of the various drives detected along with their device IDs which will look like this: /dev/sdc. You can also check the device IDs of the drives by opening the disk utility app. Jot these IDs down as we'll need them for our next step, creating our RAIDz array.

RAIDz is similar to RAID-5 in that instead of striping your data over multiple disks, exchanging redundancy for speed and available space (RAID-0), or mirroring your data writing by two copies of every piece (RAID-1), it instead writes parity blocks across the disks in addition to striping, this provides a balance of speed, redundancy and available space. If a single drive fails, the parity blocks on the working drives can be used to reconstruct the entire array as soon as a replacement drive is added.

Additionally, RAIDz improves over some of the common RAID-5 flaws. It's more resilient and capable of self healing, as it is capable of automatically checking for errors against a checksum. It's more forgiving in this way, and it's likely that you'll be able to detect when a drive is dying well before it fails. A RAIDz array can survive the loss of any one drive.

Note: While RAIDz is indeed resilient, if a second drive fails during the rebuild, you're fucked. Always keep backups of things you can't afford to lose. This tutorial, however, is not about proper data safety.

To create the pool, use the following command:

sudo zpool create "zpoolnamehere" raidz "device IDs of drives we're putting in the pool"

For example, let's creatively name our zpool "mypool". This poil will consist of four drives which have the device IDs: sdb, sdc, sdd, and sde. The resulting command will look like this:

sudo zpool create mypool raidz /dev/sdb /dev/sdc /dev/sdd /dev/sde

If as an example you bought five HDDs and decided you wanted more redundancy dedicating two drive to this purpose, we would modify the command to "raidz2" and the command would look something like the following:

sudo zpool create mypool raidz2 /dev/sdb /dev/sdc /dev/sdd /dev/sde /dev/sdf

An array configured like this is known as RAIDz2 and is able to survive two disk failures.

Once the zpool has been created, we can check its status with the command:

zpool status

Or more concisely with:

zpool list

The nice thing about ZFS as a file system is that a pool is ready to go immediately after creation. If we were to set up a traditional RAID-5 array using mbam, we'd have to sit through a potentially hours long process of reformatting and partitioning the drives. Instead we're ready to go right out the gates.

The zpool should be automatically mounted to the filesystem after creation, check on that with the following:

df -hT | grep zfs

Note: If your computer ever loses power suddenly, say in event of a power outage, you may have to re-import your pool. In most cases, ZFS will automatically import and mount your pool, but if it doesn’t and you can't see your array, simply open the terminal and type sudo zpool import -a.

By default a zpool is mounted at /"zpoolname". The pool should be under our ownership but let's make sure with the following command:

sudo chown -R "yourlinuxusername" /"zpoolname"

Note: Changing file and folder ownership with "chown" and file and folder permissions with "chmod" are essential commands for much of the admin work in Linux, but we won't be dealing with them extensively in this guide. If you'd like a deeper tutorial and explanation you can check out these two guides: chown and chmod.

You can access the zpool file system through the GUI by opening the file manager (the Ubuntu default file manager is called Nautilus) and clicking on "Other Locations" on the sidebar, then entering the Ubuntu file system and looking for a folder with your pool's name. Bookmark the folder on the sidebar for easy access.

Your storage pool is now ready to go. Assuming that we already have some files on our Windows PC we want to copy to over, we're going to need to install and configure Samba to make the pool accessible in Windows.

Step Five: Setting Up Samba/Sharing

Samba is what's going to let us share the zpool with Windows and allow us to write to it from our Windows machine. First let's install Samba with the following commands:

sudo apt-get update

then

sudo apt-get install samba

Next create a password for Samba.

sudo smbpswd -a "yourlinuxusername"

It will then prompt you to create a password. Just reuse your Ubuntu user password for simplicity's sake.

Note: if you're using just a single external drive replace the zpool location in the following commands with wherever it is your external drive is mounted, for more information see this guide on mounting an external drive in Ubuntu.

After you've created a password we're going to create a shareable folder in our pool with this command

mkdir /"zpoolname"/"foldername"

Now we're going to open the smb.conf file and make that folder shareable. Enter the following command.

sudo nano /etc/samba/smb.conf

This will open the .conf file in nano, the terminal text editor program. Now at the end of smb.conf add the following entry:

["foldername"]

path = /"zpoolname"/"foldername"

available = yes

valid users = "yourlinuxusername"

read only = no

writable = yes

browseable = yes

guest ok = no

Ensure that there are no line breaks between the lines and that there's a space on both sides of the equals sign. Our next step is to allow Samba traffic through the firewall:

sudo ufw allow samba

Finally restart the Samba service:

sudo systemctl restart smbd

At this point we'll be able to access to the pool, browse its contents, and read and write to it from Windows. But there's one more thing left to do, Windows doesn't natively support the ZFS file systems and will read the used/available/total space in the pool incorrectly. Windows will read available space as total drive space, and all used space as null. This leads to Windows only displaying a dwindling amount of "available" space as the drives are filled. We can fix this! Functionally this doesn't actually matter, we can still write and read to and from the disk, it just makes it difficult to tell at a glance the proportion of used/available space, so this is an optional step but one I recommend (this step is also unnecessary if you're just using a single external drive). What we're going to do is write a little shell script in #bash. Open nano with the terminal with the command:

nano

Now insert the following code:

#!/bin/bash CUR_PATH=`pwd` ZFS_CHECK_OUTPUT=$(zfs get type $CUR_PATH 2>&1 > /dev/null) > /dev/null if [[ $ZFS_CHECK_OUTPUT == *not\ a\ ZFS* ]] then IS_ZFS=false else IS_ZFS=true fi if [[ $IS_ZFS = false ]] then df $CUR_PATH | tail -1 | awk '{print $2" "$4}' else USED=$((`zfs get -o value -Hp used $CUR_PATH` / 1024)) > /dev/null AVAIL=$((`zfs get -o value -Hp available $CUR_PATH` / 1024)) > /dev/null TOTAL=$(($USED+$AVAIL)) > /dev/null echo $TOTAL $AVAIL fi

Save the script as "dfree.sh" to /home/"yourlinuxusername" then change the ownership of the file to make it executable with this command:

sudo chmod 774 dfree.sh

Now open smb.conf with sudo again:

sudo nano /etc/samba/smb.conf

Now add this entry to the top of the configuration file to direct Samba to use the results of our script when Windows asks for a reading on the pool's used/available/total drive space:

[global]

dfree command = /home/"yourlinuxusername"/dfree.sh

Save the changes to smb.conf and then restart Samba again with the terminal:

sudo systemctl restart smbd

Now there’s one more thing we need to do to fully set up the Samba share, and that’s to modify a hidden group permission. In the terminal window type the following command:

usermod -a -G sambashare “yourlinuxusername”

Then restart samba again:

sudo systemctl restart smbd

If we don’t do this last step, everything will appear to work fine, and you will even be able to see and map the drive from Windows and even begin transferring files, but you'd soon run into a lot of frustration. As every ten minutes or so a file would fail to transfer and you would get a window announcing “0x8007003B Unexpected Network Error”. This window would require your manual input to continue the transfer with the file next in the queue. And at the end it would reattempt to transfer whichever files failed the first time around. 99% of the time they’ll go through that second try, but this is still all a major pain in the ass. Especially if you’ve got a lot of data to transfer or you want to step away from the computer for a while.

It turns out samba can act a little weirdly with the higher read/write speeds of RAIDz arrays and transfers from Windows, and will intermittently crash and restart itself if this group option isn’t changed. Inputting the above command will prevent you from ever seeing that window.

The last thing we're going to do before switching over to our Windows PC is grab the IP address of our Linux machine. Enter the following command:

hostname -I

This will spit out this computer's IP address on the local network (it will look something like 192.168.0.x), write it down. It might be a good idea once you're done here to go into your router settings and reserving that IP for your Linux system in the DHCP settings. Check the manual for your specific model router on how to access its settings, typically it can be accessed by opening a browser and typing http:\\192.168.0.1 in the address bar, but your router may be different.

Okay we’re done with our Linux computer for now. Get on over to your Windows PC, open File Explorer, right click on Network and click "Map network drive". Select Z: as the drive letter (you don't want to map the network drive to a letter you could conceivably be using for other purposes) and enter the IP of your Linux machine and location of the share like so: \\"LINUXCOMPUTERLOCALIPADDRESSGOESHERE"\"zpoolnamegoeshere"\. Windows will then ask you for your username and password, enter the ones you set earlier in Samba and you're good. If you've done everything right it should look something like this:

You can now start moving media over from Windows to the share folder. It's a good idea to have a hard line running to all machines. Moving files over Wi-Fi is going to be tortuously slow, the only thing that’s going to make the transfer time tolerable (hours instead of days) is a solid wired connection between both machines and your router.

Step Six: Setting Up Remote Desktop Access to Your Server

After the server is up and going, you’ll want to be able to access it remotely from Windows. Barring serious maintenance/updates, this is how you'll access it most of the time. On your Linux system open the terminal and enter:

sudo apt install xrdp

Then:

sudo systemctl enable xrdp

Once it's finished installing, open “Settings” on the sidebar and turn off "automatic login" in the User category. Then log out of your account. Attempting to remotely connect to your Linux computer while you’re logged in will result in a black screen!

Now get back on your Windows PC, open search and look for "RDP". A program called "Remote Desktop Connection" should pop up, open this program as an administrator by right-clicking and selecting “run as an administrator”. You’ll be greeted with a window. In the field marked “Computer” type in the IP address of your Linux computer. Press connect and you'll be greeted with a new window and prompt asking for your username and password. Enter your Ubuntu username and password here.

If everything went right, you’ll be logged into your Linux computer. If the performance is sluggish, adjust the display options. Lowering the resolution and colour depth do a lot to make the interface feel snappier.

Remote access is how we're going to be using our Linux system from now, barring edge cases like needing to get into the BIOS or upgrading to a new version of Ubuntu. Everything else from performing maintenance like a monthly zpool scrub to checking zpool status and updating software can all be done remotely.

This is how my server lives its life now, happily humming and chirping away on the floor next to the couch in a corner of the living room.

Step Seven: Plex Media Server/Jellyfin

Okay we’ve got all the ground work finished and our server is almost up and running. We’ve got Ubuntu up and running, our storage array is primed, we’ve set up remote connections and sharing, and maybe we’ve moved over some of favourite movies and TV shows.

Now we need to decide on the media server software to use which will stream our media to us and organize our library. For most people I’d recommend Plex. It just works 99% of the time. That said, Jellyfin has a lot to recommend it by too, even if it is rougher around the edges. Some people run both simultaneously, it’s not that big of an extra strain. I do recommend doing a little bit of your own research into the features each platform offers, but as a quick run down, consider some of the following points:

Plex is closed source and is funded through PlexPass purchases while Jellyfin is open source and entirely user driven. This means a number of things: for one, Plex requires you to purchase a “PlexPass” (purchased as a one time lifetime fee $159.99 CDN/$120 USD or paid for on a monthly or yearly subscription basis) in order to access to certain features, like hardware transcoding (and we want hardware transcoding) or automated intro/credits detection and skipping, Jellyfin offers some of these features for free through plugins. Plex supports a lot more devices than Jellyfin and updates more frequently. That said, Jellyfin's Android and iOS apps are completely free, while the Plex Android and iOS apps must be activated for a one time cost of $6 CDN/$5 USD. But that $6 fee gets you a mobile app that is much more functional and features a unified UI across platforms, the Plex mobile apps are simply a more polished experience. The Jellyfin apps are a bit of a mess and the iOS and Android versions are very different from each other.

Jellyfin’s actual media player is more fully featured than Plex's, but on the other hand Jellyfin's UI, library customization and automatic media tagging really pale in comparison to Plex. Streaming your music library is free through both Jellyfin and Plex, but Plex offers the PlexAmp app for dedicated music streaming which boasts a number of fantastic features, unfortunately some of those fantastic features require a PlexPass. If your internet is down, Jellyfin can still do local streaming, while Plex can fail to play files unless you've got it set up a certain way. Jellyfin has a slew of neat niche features like support for Comic Book libraries with the .cbz/.cbt file types, but then Plex offers some free ad-supported TV and films, they even have a free channel that plays nothing but Classic Doctor Who.

Ultimately it's up to you, I settled on Plex because although some features are pay-walled, it just works. It's more reliable and easier to use, and a one-time fee is much easier to swallow than a subscription. I had a pretty easy time getting my boomer parents and tech illiterate brother introduced to and using Plex and I don't know if I would've had as easy a time doing that with Jellyfin. I do also need to mention that Jellyfin does take a little extra bit of tinkering to get going in Ubuntu, you’ll have to set up process permissions, so if you're more tolerant to tinkering, Jellyfin might be up your alley and I’ll trust that you can follow their installation and configuration guide. For everyone else, I recommend Plex.

So pick your poison: Plex or Jellyfin.

Note: The easiest way to download and install either of these packages in Ubuntu is through Snap Store.

After you've installed one (or both), opening either app will launch a browser window into the browser version of the app allowing you to set all the options server side.

The process of adding creating media libraries is essentially the same in both Plex and Jellyfin. You create a separate libraries for Television, Movies, and Music and add the folders which contain the respective types of media to their respective libraries. The only difficult or time consuming aspect is ensuring that your files and folders follow the appropriate naming conventions:

Plex naming guide for Movies

Plex naming guide for Television

Jellyfin follows the same naming rules but I find their media scanner to be a lot less accurate and forgiving than Plex. Once you've selected the folders to be scanned the service will scan your files, tagging everything and adding metadata. Although I find do find Plex more accurate, it can still erroneously tag some things and you might have to manually clean up some tags in a large library. (When I initially created my library it tagged the 1963-1989 Doctor Who as some Korean soap opera and I needed to manually select the correct match after which everything was tagged normally.) It can also be a bit testy with anime (especially OVAs) be sure to check TVDB to ensure that you have your files and folders structured and named correctly. If something is not showing up at all, double check the name.

Once that's done, organizing and customizing your library is easy. You can set up collections, grouping items together to fit a theme or collect together all the entries in a franchise. You can make playlists, and add custom artwork to entries. It's fun setting up collections with posters to match, there are even several websites dedicated to help you do this like PosterDB. As an example, below are two collections in my library, one collecting all the entries in a franchise, the other follows a theme.

My Star Trek collection, featuring all eleven television series, and thirteen films.

My Best of the Worst collection, featuring sixty-nine films previously showcased on RedLetterMedia’s Best of the Worst. They’re all absolutely terrible and I love them.

As for settings, ensure you've got Remote Access going, it should work automatically and be sure to set your upload speed after running a speed test. In the library settings set the database cache to 2000MB to ensure a snappier and more responsive browsing experience, and then check that playback quality is set to original/maximum. If you’re severely bandwidth limited on your upload and have remote users, you might want to limit the remote stream bitrate to something more reasonable, just as a note of comparison Netflix’s 1080p bitrate is approximately 5Mbps, although almost anyone watching through a chromium based browser is streaming at 720p and 3mbps. Other than that you should be good to go. For actually playing your files, there's a Plex app for just about every platform imaginable. I mostly watch television and films on my laptop using the Windows Plex app, but I also use the Android app which can broadcast to the chromecast connected to the TV in the office and the Android TV app for our smart TV. Both are fully functional and easy to navigate, and I can also attest to the OS X version being equally functional.

Part Eight: Finding Media

Now, this is not really a piracy tutorial, there are plenty of those out there. But if you’re unaware, BitTorrent is free and pretty easy to use, just pick a client (qBittorrent is the best) and go find some public trackers to peruse. Just know now that all the best trackers are private and invite only, and that they can be exceptionally difficult to get into. I’m already on a few, and even then, some of the best ones are wholly out of my reach.

If you decide to take the left hand path and turn to Usenet you’ll have to pay. First you’ll need to sign up with a provider like Newshosting or EasyNews for access to Usenet itself, and then to actually find anything you’re going to need to sign up with an indexer like NZBGeek or NZBFinder. There are dozens of indexers, and many people cross post between them, but for more obscure media it’s worth checking multiple. You’ll also need a binary downloader like SABnzbd. That caveat aside, Usenet is faster, bigger, older, less traceable than BitTorrent, and altogether slicker. I honestly prefer it, and I'm kicking myself for taking this long to start using it because I was scared off by the price. I’ve found so many things on Usenet that I had sought in vain elsewhere for years, like a 2010 Italian film about a massacre perpetrated by the SS that played the festival circuit but never received a home media release; some absolute hero uploaded a rip of a festival screener DVD to Usenet. Anyway, figure out the rest of this shit on your own and remember to use protection, get yourself behind a VPN, use a SOCKS5 proxy with your BitTorrent client, etc.

On the legal side of things, if you’re around my age, you (or your family) probably have a big pile of DVDs and Blu-Rays sitting around unwatched and half forgotten. Why not do a bit of amateur media preservation, rip them and upload them to your server for easier access? (Your tools for this are going to be Handbrake to do the ripping and AnyDVD to break any encryption.) I went to the trouble of ripping all my SCTV DVDs (five box sets worth) because none of it is on streaming nor could it be found on any pirate source I tried. I’m glad I did, forty years on it’s still one of the funniest shows to ever be on TV.

Part Nine/Epilogue: Sonarr/Radarr/Lidarr and Overseerr

There are a lot of ways to automate your server for better functionality or to add features you and other users might find useful. Sonarr, Radarr, and Lidarr are a part of a suite of “Servarr” services (there’s also Readarr for books and Whisparr for adult content) that allow you to automate the collection of new episodes of TV shows (Sonarr), new movie releases (Radarr) and music releases (Lidarr). They hook in to your BitTorrent client or Usenet binary newsgroup downloader and crawl your preferred Torrent trackers and Usenet indexers, alerting you to new releases and automatically grabbing them. You can also use these services to manually search for new media, and even replace/upgrade your existing media with better quality uploads. They’re really a little tricky to set up on a bare metal Ubuntu install (ideally you should be running them in Docker Containers), and I won’t be providing a step by step on installing and running them, I’m simply making you aware of their existence.

The other bit of kit I want to make you aware of is Overseerr which is a program that scans your Plex media library and will serve recommendations based on what you like. It also allows you and your users to request specific media. It can even be integrated with Sonarr/Radarr/Lidarr so that fulfilling those requests is fully automated.

And you're done. It really wasn't all that hard. Enjoy your media. Enjoy the control you have over that media. And be safe in the knowledge that no hedgefund CEO motherfucker who hates the movies but who is somehow in control of a major studio will be able to disappear anything in your library as a tax write-off.

[bonefall]

Yo, need some help with the BB au's warrior code (working on the wiki). Cus 1-4 are confirmed from the history post, but what order are the rest of them in??

Oh this is actually something I've been meaning to get to. I swung over to the wiki page and I see you're working with a bundle of unconnected posts, and the REALLY old first draft-- it's waaay overdue that I make an update that also contains an official addressing of some of the biggest changes that have happened since then.

I'm gonna try to fix that for you now. Here's a rough draft of BB!Warrior Code 2.0, including snappier names and new thoughts for the associated stories.

I'm also trying to make each commandment more... sociological. In contrast to canon's code, I want these to be more open to interpretation, but also gesture at deeper social values that Clan cats have.

After all, it's the Warrior Code. I've always felt like it should have a similar vibe to chivalry or bushido, y'know? Not just a list of laws, but a "guide" to living as an honorable warrior.

(and, like chivalry and bushido, it's much less "inherently" noble than it seems, easily twisted into something destructive and only protecting other people in your caste.)

The plan here is that I'm going to post this in a rough state so you can get it on the Wiki, AND everyone can toss up input on this. When I feel satisfied, I'm gonna hit up Trout to make official Clanmew translations, and then I'm going to work with one/some of the artists in my spreadsheet to make this its own post.

So, the next time you see this will likely be a lot cleaner and have revisions.

IN SHORT:

Law of the Border "A Clan is the exclusive ruler of its domain; a Star is the exclusive ruler of its Clan. Borders are set to mark this land. To trespass is to offend the stars."

Law of Honor "An honorable warrior does not need to kill to win their battles, except when the foe is dishonorable or it is necessary for self-defense."

Law of the Deputy "The Star is to choose a responsible Deputy to rule alongside them who shall carry the starlight after their death. A Clan must never go past moonhigh without a Deputy appointed."

Law of Loyalty "Defend your Clan, even with your life. No love for an outsider shall outweigh your loyalty to your Clan."

Law of Priority / Prey Priority Privilege "An honorable warrior would starve before letting those they protect go hungry."

Law of Grace "StarClan is to be thanked for what it provides. To waste their blessings or blaspheme their light is treason against the Stars."

Law of Seasons "A kitten must see two seasons before it can become an apprentice. An apprentice must train for two seasons before it can become a warrior. A warrior should handle all four seasons alone before becoming a mentor."

Law of the Challenge / Right to Challenge "All warriors who bare a blessed name from StarClan are entitled to defend their honor. The right to challenge, or to accept a challenge in turn, shall not be infringed upon without reason."

Law of the Wild "A warrior rejects the soft life of a kittypet."

Law of the Cleric's Vow "A cleric who takes a mate or has kittens has violated their sacred vow, and must have their privilege of being StarClan's herald revoked."

Law of the Gathering / Full Moon Truce "Under the light of the full moon, all Clans shall send representatives to the Gathering to hear the news of the leaders. There will be a truce that lasts from sundown to sunrise, and attendance is a privilege."

Law of the First Tasks "Before an apprentice can receive their holy name by the power vested in their Star, first they must complete three sacred tasks; a warrior's assessment, a complete vigil, and a pilgrimage."

Law of the Leader's Right / Dalestar's Law / The Leader's Rights "By the power of the Star they carry, the word of a leader shall be recognized as the warrior code."

Law of the Three Kittens / Darkstar's Law / The Queen's Rights "No action, inaction, or accusation may ever allow a kit to be put in danger, no matter what Clan their parents were from. All queens shall have the right to not reveal the origin of their litter, even under suspicion of codebreaking."

Law of the Lake "Every Clan has the right to fight for its honor and independence, but the Clans of the lake shall never allow another to suffer or collapse. In dire times, all the cats of the lake understand their ancestral command; unite or die."

Law of Love / Bristlefrost's Law "If a cat wishes to walk alongside the warrior of another Clan, their beloved may ask their Star to issue a challenge to prove their new loyalty. If this challenge is overcome, their love shall be known as StarClan's will."

Law of Kickum Buttocks / Leader-B-Gone "girl help im still figuring out how I'm going to rewrite the new law about kicking out leaders. It is too long and too hyperspecific. There's absolutely no way for it to get legitimately used in canon, let alone be a relevant plot point."

If a previous post contradicts this one, assume this one overrules it. You can feel free to ask about it though! There's probably a reason I changed it, and I'll hear you out if you think an older version was stronger.

The Borbior Bode. I mean the BB!Warrior Code.

(Under the cut)

COMMANDMENT 1: Law of the Border "A Clan is the exclusive ruler of its domain; a Star is the exclusive ruler of its Clan. Borders are set to mark this land. To trespass is to offend the stars."

The legend goes that after the carnage of the First Battle, StarClan granted a fragment of a star to the leaders of the five Clans. This piece of a star is what legitimizes their right to the land they rule, so the leader is technically the owner of the Clan's domain and has authority over it.

In practice, this means that Clan leaders have the right to claim and control everything that is "part of their land," their domain. This usually refers to prey, but also includes herbs, goods, and even warriors with a holy, StarClan-ordained name that swear fealty to them.

Most often, this is the law that is cited to justify territory expansions, by changing borders. It also tends to come up in "economic" circumstances. When Onestar launched an embargo against ShadowClan during the Yellowcough Epidemic preventing mullein from being brought to them, he cited this law, because that herb only grows in WindClan moorland.

The intent behind this commandment is VERY different from its modern use. There were originally just two "commandments," this one and the Law of Honor, and it was essentially serving the purpose that later laws (namely 6, 8, 10 and 13) would more explicitly outline. Its purpose wasn't to put absolute power over territory into the paws of a leader, but to command the Clans to respect each other's autonomy.

In fact, the wording is weird to reflect that.

In Clanmew, the verb here for "trespass" is meant in the sense of "to disrespect," and which "stars" are being offended is unclear. It was originally meant religiously-- the angry ancestors who halted the First Battle would be offended if the Clans treated each other poorly. Over time, "the stars" came to be interpreted as offending the leader of the Clan, as in "issuing a challenge to them."

But its modern interpretation is all that matters, now. And it's widely accepted to mean "Leader owns everything in its Clan's borders, fight them if you don't like that."

COMMANDMENT 2: Law of Honor "An honorable warrior does not need to kill to win their battles, except when the foe is dishonorable or it is necessary for self-defense."

I'm considering rewording this one in a small but significant way because I have plans to play with the "dishonorable foe" clause. The ideologies of Fire Alone and Thistle Law clash over the philosophical idea of the Code's protection applying to outsiders at all, so I realized that I don't need to have "unless they are outside of the code" written into any specific commandment.

So, instead, this version would mention dishonorability. To invoke this commandment to kill is always an accusation, and to accept that it was used against your loved one means admitting they were "dishonorable." To be outside of the code, to be unable to contribute, or to be HalfClan could mean you're inherently dishonorable... if someone like Tigerstar wants an excuse to hurt you.

Unsure, though. I do like the wording of the canon commandment, "unless they are outside of the warrior code or it is necessary for self-defense." I do like the way that it says, right away, that they don't see outsider cats as being protected by this law. I like how weaselly it is.

COMMANDMENT 3: Law of the Deputy "The Star is to choose a responsible Deputy to rule alongside them who shall carry the starlight after their death. A Clan must never go past moonhigh without a Deputy appointed."

Developed as a result of the events of Riverstar's Heir. When King Riverstar passed away with the inheritance of the River Kingdom unclear, his oldest living biological son stepped forward to claim his "birthright." The son decided to throw a celebration before going to claim his lives, not knowing that there was a saboteur prepared to slip poison into his prey.

The cat who would have been considered Riverstar's "deputy" by modern standards, Flowers Come First, desperately tried to keep the Kingdom together as other cats tried to carve out claims to the leaderless land. After dozens were killed and injured in a civil conflict (sometimes called The Second Battle), the ShadowClan Cleric, Redscar, was called in as a mediator to determine the rightful leader.

But, before he determined that Flowerstar would lead next, it was ensured that all of the Clans would come together to accept this as a new law. To prevent this kind of succession crisis from ever occurring again.

(BB!ASC LOOMS IN THE DISTANCE)

This commandment was technically the first "addition" to the law, but at the time, it was considered the "birth" of the Warrior Code. Before this, it was more of a pair of principles from StarClan.

As a note; in the Clanmew, "Responsible" Deputy implies a warrior who has trained an apprentice or has raised children. I'm unsure if linguistic drift now means that HAS to be an apprentice or not, but there are probably historic cases where a Mi with a ton of grown kittens took power.

COMMANDMENT 4: Law of Loyalty "Defend your Clan, even with your life. No love for an outsider shall outweigh your loyalty to your Clan."

This law was famously introduced after Ryewhisker gave his life to defend his mate, Cloudberry, in a battle between their Clans. It's usually considered the first proper "addition" to the Warrior Code, but a real debate about if 3 or 4 is the first "amendment" would probably be considered a sort of pedantic argument by most.

(side funfact; In Clanmew there's a term for that. It's called a "Shineless Fight," or a "matte match." Basically a silly battle that doesn't invite attention from StarClan.)

Its ratification came even in spite of Cloudberry's heated opposition to it. The ancient practice of Kitten Stealing was born from this commandment, justified by ancient actions taken by Skystar during the Dawn Era. Cloudberry watched her kittens grow, inheriting a world far worse than the one she'd loved Ryewhisker in.

When she was reunited with her mate in death, they refused to be part of a StarClan cruel enough to support and approve of a law written to condemn their love. Without a moment's hesitation, the lovers fled into the Place of No Stars together, vowing that they would not rest in peace until the evil commandment was overturned.

They do even more than just that, too.

When cross-Clan mates need protection from discovery, the lovers will hide them from watchful eyes under the cover of yew branches. If the stars burn brightly to document the sins of forbidden friends, Cloudberry will cool them with rain while Ryewhisker bends the grass to guide them to safety. They are demons acting as guardian angels, for those who God has abandoned.

...Also, author's note, I've done rewording to this law. I'm trying to make sure all types of love (platonic, romantic, familial, plus the clan culture concepts for these) are equally important narratively. It's both something I care about as an artist, and also something I think makes the story better.

DIVERSITY WIN! Your queerplatonic cross-clan relationship is equally treasonous!

On that note, I also cut the "reassurance" from the law entirely. The canon law says "you may have friendships, but be careful because you might meet them in battle," to imply it's fine to just be friendly, but I feel like it fits BB better to just not explicitly spell that out. I generally think it's a better idea to stress how individuals interpret the law.

COMMANDMENT 5: Law of Priority "An honorable warrior would starve before letting those they protect go hungry."

In Clanmew, the wording will be closer to this; "The true warrior Wants before those they protect would Need," which means that the warrior's desires go unfulfilled if their "charges" have unmet needs. It applies very broadly to almost anything-- food, medicine, rest, tools, etc. It's not just about hunger, but it's been translated in a way to communicate its spirit to an English-speaking audience.

This does typically mean that kittens, elders, and the Cleric eat first, but it's also one of the laws that particularly noble warriors would repeat to themselves as a mantra. It stresses self-sacrifice in service of the weak. On the flip side, a more authoritarian cat can easily twist this code to accuse someone else of being dishonorable, if they're "taking" too much.

Full disclosure, this one's still pretty big WIP material. I haven't made a lot of progress on the origin story of this one, or what its sociological impacts were.

In fact, laws 5, 6, and 7 are WIP territory. They might get shuffled in order or reworded in the future, though their "spirit" is going to stay the same.

What I DO know about the Law of Priority's backstory is that it's probably not going to be born from a battle on Sunningrocks. Most of the canon equivalent law from COTC is actually going to get repurposed into BB!Darkstar's Commandment, and Commandment 11 by proxy. It's more likely I'll take a bunch of the spare ancient warriors and come up with some original big disaster that spurred it on.

COMMANDMENT 6: Law of Grace "StarClan is to be thanked for what it provides. To waste their blessings or blaspheme their light is treason against the Stars."

Also known as Dovestar's Law. Possibly one of the most prone to being interpreted in different lights between leaders. It's not a law explicitly requiring belief, but it does command religious performance from all Clan cats.

...which, functionally, does mean that cats like Cloudtail and Mothwing have always been pressured into taking part in rituals they don't want to be part of.

For example, when prey is killed, Cloudtail gets offended looks when he doesn't send a prayer to StarClan. If it wasn't for Ferncloud and Elderberry being so close to him, he might have been denied getting Ashpaw as an apprentice due to a refusal to swear a religious oath. Worse, if Bluestar hadn't been leader at the time, not pressing his nose to the Moonstone might have prevented him from becoming a warrior at all.

(as a personal note, as an atheist, ive always found the way that canon dances around acknowledging the destructive aspects of organized religion EXTREMELY frustrating. Especially in COTC, where it's mentioned that Dovestar wanted to codify a religious commandment but failed, and Leafpool smugly chuckles at the leader for being so surprised. It felt like such a "writer's mouthpiece" moment. girl it's a cult in the woods. you wrote scourge as an evil atheist. your cats have catholic guilt, just own it)

The second most important legal use of this law is to punish contact with the spirits of demons-- residents of the Place of No Stars. There are several forbidden techniques for utilizing the power of these spirits, namely "Channeling," the direct summoning of a spirit (as opposed to "Invoking," which is when StarClan as an entity is used as an "operator" to get in touch with an angel in its ranks).

Casually this is referred to as "witchcraft" or "forbidden magic."

But, in addition to being a religious law, it is also a law against overhunting and waste. Especially of "blessed" animals, such as bats and songbirds, which are considered downright sinful to kill. If you knowingly destroy beautiful things without a good reason, "wasting" a blessing, it's not JUST a sin, but a crime.

It's possibly one of the most relevant laws in the day-to-day lives of warriors. ShadowClan cats in particular take this VERY literally, believing that they should also try to salvage a use from ALL things they kill. Including badgers.

COMMANDMENT 7: Law of Seasons "A kitten must see two seasons before it can become an apprentice. An apprentice must train for two seasons before it can become a warrior. A warrior should handle all four seasons alone before becoming a mentor."

This commandment was worded and introduced by Daisytail, rallying all the parents of the Clans, to protect young cats from two battle hungry leaders who were foisting fights and responsibilities on those who physically could not be ready.

This story won't change much from its COTC equivalent, besides maybe adding an extra detail that young apprentices were being given to young warriors, less than two years old. A very young warrior might had never handled the season they're now training an apprentice in, leading to things like;

Being unable to identify thin ice

Not knowing how cold temperatures change how scent works

Unfamiliarity with hunting in snowy conditions

Lack of education on wintertime animal behavior

Ultimately though, the point of this law is simply to codify "minimums" of the age brackets. Most cats train longer than that, and they are strictly grouped socially.

In fact, because of the fact these cats age so rapidly during their first year and then "slow down" afterwards, "rank" is a LOT more important socially than chronological age.

As an example, Reedwhisker has a nightmarish, two-year-long apprenticeship due to mentor abuse. He was considered an apprentice in age that entire time. Having an extended mentorship is literally like being forced to stay a teenager. This is as hellish as it sounds.

Overall though, for BB, this commandment is going to be a lot more relevant for the mentor/apprentice aspects instead of "early apprentice" infractions. Even the most evil, short-sighted leader can realize that getting kids killed before they turn into adult soldiers is self-defeating.

One of the more notorious changes of BB is the fact Brokenstar isn't going to be using child soldiers. What he DOES do is approve of Runningnose's plan to murder a blind kitten so that they can frame Shroompelt for it, exiling her as Yellowfang and FINALLY getting her out of the way so they can commit a massacre against WindClan.

(still evil just a different kind of evil <3)

I've been really wishy-washy on what happened with Badgerfang specifically, because I didn't want to eliminate the tragic story beat of a young life being wasted. But I've finally decided what I'm going to do. Badgerfang was just a fresh apprentice, nothing special, nothing "illegal," just like all of the other adolescents who took part in that battle.

I don't think he should have to be legally too young for it to be absolutely horrific that a kid was killed during the invasion of someone else's home. He was the equivalent of a 13-year-old and he was gored by someone who was confused and terrified in the middle of the night, bleeding to death in his uncle's paws.

For Flintfang, in that moment, it has nothing to do with recommitting himself to the "warrior code," but realizing that the only way this madness stops is if someone puts an end to it.

COMMANDMENT 8: Law of the Challenge "All warriors who bare a blessed name from StarClan are entitled to defend their honor. The right to challenge, or to accept a challenge in turn, shall not be infringed upon without reason."

Attempting to stop a war from breaking out between ThunderClan and WindClan, the ancient leader Morningstar prevented his warriors from fighting back against Rabbitstar's border transgressions. Furious and offended that they could not prove themselves in battle, his cats came to resent him. After skirmish and sickness lead to the "honorless" death of several cats including his deputy, the Cleric, Pearnose, lead a revolt against him.

Morningstar was branded a coward by StarClan, deemed unworthy of joining their ranks and sent to the Place of No Stars to wallow in his misery. Afterwards, Pearstar gained her nine lives, beloved by ThunderClan and blessed by StarClan, and her decree was made into code.

This law is being invoked when a warrior mentions their "right to challenge." As a quirk of the wording, it's also widely accepted that an official challenge involves saying your opponent's full name, to get the attention of StarClan.

"without reason" is another one of those little clauses that gives a leader wiggle room when they need it. Legitimate "reason" to cancel a challenge includes the full moon truce, promise to allow the battle at a more appropriate date, or the fight being shineless or dishonorable to begin with. Still, leaders are rarely eager to get compared to Morningstar, so there's a lot of social pressure to not infringe the right.

The Clans culturally value the idea that "might makes right," and this commandment is both a result of, and a contributor to it. A LOT of small-scale quibbles over aspects of the Warrior Code end up being resolved by an invocation of the Right to Challenge, because trying to argue with a warrior that they're wrong about how they interpreted the code is easily interpreted as an attack on their honor.

COMMANDMENT 9: Law of the Wild "A warrior rejects the soft life of a kittypet."

During the destruction of SkyClan's historic territory in the White Hart Woods, Flystar witnessed many of his warriors turning to humans and the town to live double lives. In response, he started very strictly enforcing the warrior code, believing that if his Clan lived more piously, this would stop the destruction.

it did not work. Old Man Flystar died and left Cloudstar as a young leader, desperately keeping SkyClan together in its exile. Even death did not stop him from honoring his vow.

...But the Forest Four did not care. The amendment that Flystar suggested for the warrior code was born from his need to discourage his warriors from leaving, but it was approved because of shared cultural hatred for human beings. The destruction of SkyClan's territory just made an existing problem much, much worse.

During the Crusade Era, this law was invoked to justify violent invasions into Chelford. During other eras, it makes cats hesitate to take food from humans, or even interact with kittypets at all.

It's also a very weird translation; in Clanmew, this is the "Law of the Unbunched Scruff." It could also be translated as "Law of the Uncollared Neck" or "Law of a Free Nape." It's referring to the back of the neck being unburdened by a collar, but it's also REALLY common for little kits to learn about this law and immediately start using it to protest their Mi carrying them back to the nest for bedtime.

This was also the last law to be introduced before SkyClan's exile! Modern SkyClan has complicated feelings on if this one should be respected as part of their "version" of the code.

ALSO;

I've so far kept it as short and simple as canon, but I'm thinking of making it longer to match the others. I can't find the right words for it, though-- something about "A warrior rejects the soft life of a kittypet, and resists the deceitful temptation of humans" or "and remains vigilant for the tricks of man"

I want to capture the vibe of Flystar trying to convince his warriors that humans are liars, and any gifts they give you will actually make you weak. Part of me is trying to avoid wording the commandment in a way that could result in people thinking Firepaw himself is a "trick of man," but maybe I should just lean into it instead.

COMMANDMENT 10: Law of the Cleric's Vow "A cleric who takes a mate or has kittens has violated their sacred vow, and must have their privilege of being StarClan's herald revoked."

Moth Flight did not create the vow to be ratified as code. It was a desperate, painful oath she made her four kittens make before they were taken away from her to become the first Clerics of the other Clans.

She made them promise her that they would not have children of their own who would be ripped away from them. It was a mother's plea, to spare them from the pain she was experiencing, to encourage them to value medicine over connections to a Clan that stole them, and to punish the Clans for treating their bloodline like something that would produce prophets like livestock.

Their gifts would die with them, and all future Clerics would be trained, not born. The Cleric's Vow was a non-binding tradition for generations, until the exile of SkyClan.

Larkstripe, Cleric of WindClan, rallied the other Clerics into going on strike until the leaders reversed their terrible decision. Swiftstar stubbornly refused to give into this demand, even when sickness landed him on his deathbed. She remained firm, informing him that he was free to gamble with his life if he wanted to face StarClan's judgement.

His successor, Dalestar, sought a way to brutally crush the strike. So he hit Larkstripe at her one weakness-- her son, Ripplekit.

With the ringleader's reputation destroyed and her son ripped away from her and sent to ShadowClan, the other Clerics quickly folded. Dalestar got his way, and was celebrated for it.

This commandment doesn't have too many unique interpretations, though there are occasionally interesting cases where Clerics have kittens before taking their vow. While it's a "gray zone," kittens who are the child of a parent-turned-Cleric are sometimes considered cursed or unlucky.

(contrast to SkyClan where it is actually considered a plus for a Cleric to have kittens.)

COMMANDMENT 11: Law of the Full Moon "Under the light of the full moon, all Clans shall send representatives to the Gathering to hear the news of the leaders. There will be a truce that lasts from sundown to sunrise, and attendance is a privilege."

Taken from Larkstripe and raised at the belly of Birdflight, mate of the exiled Cloudstar, Ripplekit grew into Ripplemoon and became Ripplestar of ShadowClan. Spurred into action by a blight that was spreading up the now-dead fifth tree of Fourtrees, he declared war on the other Clans. "If you will not make room to fetch SkyClan home, then I will carve it out."

Before this time, the Gathering was simply a tradition, not code, but Ripplestar's deadly total war tactics recognized it as an excellent target. Attempting to bring a swift end to his bloody campaign, he planned an attack that would surely have many innocent casualties.

However, he was betrayed by his adopted brother; Gorseclaw. The other Clans were prepared for his attack, bringing nothing but warriors to the Gathering. In fury at Ripplestar's audacity, having lost the SkyClan ancestors who would have supported these actions, StarClan struck the base of the blighted tree with lightning. The falling trunk crushed Ripplestar against the Highrock and snapped the oak in two distinct places; at the base, and in the middle.

The Z-shaped cracks would be seen again many years later, as Brokenstar's tail. The guardian spirit of SkyClan, incarnated in the flesh through a birth from a Cleric, furious and manifest.

But, before that time, there was an immediate "Clan Pride Tide" that washed over the culture of those who won. The Law of the Full Moon was the first of three additional Commandments born from Dalestar and his peers during this time.

There are three significant "rules" to Gatherings that were established by this law;

The leader may arbitrarily exclude any cat they don't want to bring. Before this commandment, you could just go. Now, the most freedom you have is your ability to linger longer for the Aftergathering.

It is mandatory to completely listen to the "opening speeches" of Gatherings before you're allowed to mingle. Even if grandma mistystar is going off on a tangent again

The truce is now enforceable. It was previously just a taboo-- scuffles would break out now and then, and there was the occasional playfighting match. Now, you can't even get heated at another cat without people getting uncomfortable.

COMMANDMENT 12: Law of the First Tasks "Before an apprentice can receive their holy name by the power vested in their Star, first they must complete three sacred tasks; a warrior's assessment, a complete vigil, and a pilgrimage."

The second law to come from the post-Ripplestar tide was more codification of traditions, to "instill a sense of pride and honor into young warriors," but these were also a sneaky way to weed out dissidents.

Apprentices would typically do these tasks naturally as part of their rite of passage, but now, if ANY of the cats involved in this process did not like you or your mentor, they could hurt you by delaying them. A leader could choose not to bring you with them to the Moonstone. They could force you to re-do the vigil for making a noise. A vindictive mentor could keep flunking your assessment for stupid reasons because she hates you.

Bad mentors "poorly preparing" an apprentice they have a duty to guide into adulthood is good grounds for punishment. It's a massive dishonor to have an apprentice taken from you. Of course, this all depends on the Clan "taking the side" of the tormentor.

So, this is rarely used for political reasons in more recent eras, because of that potential collateral reputation hit. Making an apprentice's right of passage difficult for no reason tends to make you unpopular with that apprentice's friends, family, mentor, and peers-- but it served its purpose, back then.

Nowadays it's just celebrated as a part of Clan traditions. The First Tasks are much older than the Commandment, but most cats don't think so hard about history that they notice it's strange they got codified during this era.

(Plus, this commandment is popular. Apprentices and their families feel cheated if these first tasks are glossed over.)

COMMANDMENT 13: Law of the Leader's Right "By the power of the Star they carry, the word of a leader shall be recognized as the warrior code."

The big, bad one. Also called Dalestar's Commandment.

With this decree, the Clan leaders announced an exile of all the cats who had been revealed to support Ripplestar. ShadowClan's next leader, Marshstar, was made to deal with an immediate refugee crisis on top of overseeing the injuries of all the cats who fought at that Gathering.

It's the sort of law that would be considered a massive mistake within a few generations, but by that time, it was too entrenched to remove. The leaders had seized power over anything that could legally challenge them-- the Code, their Clerics, and their warriors in turn.

Only the rule of the Impostor would cause this part of the code to be altered, but not before the Clans nearly collapsed under his tyranny.

Future generations would look back at the fallout of Ripplestar's rebellion, and the following tide of Clan pride, and generally reach a consensus; this was the birth of the ideas which would become known as Thistle Law. Maybe it wasn't their origin, and contributing thoughts had existed for a long time beforehand, but this was the watershed moment for what would develop into modern Clan politics.

COMMANDMENT 14: Law of the Three Kittens "No action, inaction, or accusation may ever allow a kit to be put in danger, no matter what Clan their parents were from. All queens shall have the right to not reveal the origin of their litter, even under suspicion of codebreaking."

Famously referred to as Darkstar's Commandment, and cited as the Queen's Rights. Put a decisive end to the barbaric practice of Kitten Stealing. Drafted, fought for, and codified in honor of Mapleshade's three children who drowned in the swollen river.

StarClan was so furious at the sheer amount of senseless death in one season that they blasted Darkstar with lightning to drag her into StarClan to witness the Trials of those who had died. They made her watch as Ravenwing, Frecklewish, Appledusk, AND Mapleshade were all damned to the Dark Forest, and bellowed that her and Oakstar would fix it or suffer the same fate.

She listened and proposed this law. Oakstar did not, and fought against its implementation. He tried to make up for this by beginning the Crusades, but this wasn't enough to "atone" for his disobedience.

Darkstar ruled that the birth of innocent kits shall could never be used as evidence of guilt, because of the fact it would inevitably put those same kittens in danger.

It was StarClan's privilege alone to judge if the behavior that lead to the conception of those kittens was codebreaking or not. Flawed mortals, such as Mapleshade who lied to keep her kittens safe and only endangered them through panic, and Oakstar who exiled children into the rain because of personal offense leading to bias, could not be trusted to be objective about this.

That said-- the Queen's Rights are a very complicated and particular topic. They exist to protect the kitten's birth from being used as evidence; they do NOT protect the family from any consequence of their actions. There are lots of ways for the Queen's Rights to be voided.

If the kids find out their parentage and reveal it, it's void. If a cat who recently gave birth shows the kits are theirs, it's void. If you let it slip that you acquired the kitten from your sister who wants you to raise it as a Clan cat, it's void.

And, no, you can't even safely talk to your Cleric. They are within their full rights to reveal it, too. There is no Cat HIPAA. Whoever you trust with this information had BETTER BE someone you trust with your life, because they might be!

Cats who lean towards Fire Alone think that the Queen's Rights don't go far enough. Cats who lean towards Thistle Law are obsessed with the contradictions.

COMMANDMENT 15: Law of the Lake "Every Clan has the right to defend its independence and to fight for its honor, but the Clans of the lake shall never allow another to suffer or collapse. In dire times, all the cats of the lake understand their ancestral command; unite or die."

First proposed in response to the disastrous lack of response that allowed the rise of the Kin, a deadly Yellowcough outbreak, and the eventual collapse of ShadowClan, this commandment was approved without contest when SkyClan found its way to the Lake.

It's both a promise to SkyClan that what happened to them will never happen again, AND a somber acknowledgement that what happened to ShadowClan was avoidable if they'd only intervened sooner. Heartstar takes this commandment VERY seriously.

Too seriously, many add. Perhaps more out of ambition than compassion. But she doesn't care-- they weren't the ones suffocating in their own lungs watching their family die, as Onestar sat on a hill of medicine across the lake, glowering. Perhaps they should take it more seriously.

COMMANDMENT 16: Law of the Lovers / Bristlefrost's Law "If a cat wishes to walk alongside the warrior of another Clan, their beloved may ask their Star to issue a challenge to prove their new loyalty. If this challenge is overcome, their love shall be known as StarClan's will."

AKA Bristlefrost's Law, created in her honor after sacrificing her Afterlife to barrel Ashfur out of the sky, burning up in orbit.

In life, Bristlefrost was innocently meeting with Rootspring. Two warriors with a small crush, breaking the code discreetly during a time of increasing tension. When Bramblestar's impostor caught them, he decided to make an example of the couple. Brought Bristlefrost to the Gathering, and demanded that SkyClan strongly punish Rootspring to comply with the code.

Waspstar of SkyClan, successor of Leafstar after her poisoning at Juniperclaw's tricks, refused. So the impostor lifted his claw, and sliced Bristlefrost's neck. Her body plunged from the tree, dead in an instant.

With her ghost, Rootspring joined the resistance to depose him immediately. After her sacrifice, he demanded reforms for the code and a new commandment in her honor. It was not as sweeping of a change as he wanted it to be, but with the Law of the Lovers, there was finally a mechanism to bring another cat into your own Clan.

It could have saved her, he argues. He could have taken her out of that dangerous Clan, gotten her away from the Impostor, convinced her to run.

(...the truth is, Bristlefrost would never have run from ThunderClan. Not until the bitter end. She wouldn't just die twice for her family, but even more than nine if she had the chance. but this was the leverage that Rootspring was able to use.)

AUTHOR'S NOTE: I keep going back and forth on the "love" wording of this one. On one hand, I like the idea a lot that Clan cats will have to perform friendship or love even if it isn't there to "legally" change Clans as a story device. I enjoy the idea of exploring that, and how it would be particularly messed up in an asylum scenario.

On the other hand... I'm not really using "love" in the romantic sense here, and "sponsor" is both closer to what I'm intending, AND the Clanmew version. By "beloved" I mean it equally in the sense of both an aunt and their "beloved" niece, and a lover and their traditional "beloved." But I'm not sure if that's coming across.

Is there a better word for "Sponsor" but like, in a warm and affectionate sense? Legal Buddy? Guy Who Will Vouch For Me? Sweet Cheese? Not to mention there just not being platonic words equal to "lover." The amatonormativity of the English language has harmed me once again

Law of Kickem Buttocks / Leader-B-Gone "girl help im still figuring out how I'm going to rewrite the new law about kicking out leaders. It is too long and too hyperspecific. There's absolutely no way for it to get legitimately used in canon, let alone be a relevant plot point."

I know FOR SURE that the first time this law is going to be used in BB, it is against Bramblestar in ASC. He's declining, manipulating Nightheart to use in a petty squabble against Squirrelflight, and suffered two massive blows to his reputation in both Squirrelflight's Horror and BB!TBC.

But the canon law is so specific that it's useless. Like, it may as well not even exist.

A non-deputy needs to call the vote

BOTH medcats have to agree

AANNDD you need a 75% supermajority in the Clan.

FINALLY, the other leaders, of Clans that are completely irrelevant, are asked if it's ok and ALL of them have to agree.

only THEN can all of the medcats of ALL the Clans go to StarClan, and ask if the lives can be taken away.

If the sky is cloudy then screw you. you have to wait even longer. Even if your Clanmates are getting murdered or tortured or whatever.

This frustrates me because, this is a MASSIVE change to the Warrior Code, something the audience has been desperate for. Drama in this series has practically dried up, and barely anything happens for books and books.

To make such a long-awaited addition be something this useless feels like an insult. Like they just begrudgingly did the bare minimum so they could ignore it. Even the "drama" of Reedclaw trying to oust Leafstar in CC was pointless, because if the writers were just less boring with their characters, she could have called for that vote all on her own.

"Ah but the code--" characters are capable of arguing that laws are ineffective and drastic measures need to be taken. Other characters can agree with them. it's that simple. Law is a social construct, not a wizard's magic barrier

Like. It could be that easy. Reedclaw doesn't want to physically harm Leafstar so she calls for a vote of no confidence. Cats quibble about if it's "legal" or not, Hawkwing proposes that it be 75% supermajority because then it would be extremely clear this is the will of SkyClan, etc. This would also be more interesting because then it's not established, it's new ground.

BUT. For BB I do want it to be law. Just a law that actually gets used.

So right now I'm leaning towards something like;

"If a leader is no longer able to rule with honor by their Clan's three-quarter decree, the Star shall undergo a ritual to return their blessings. This ritual must be both invoked by a cleric and a warrior, and then carried out by them if successful."

I still feel like three-quarters is a tall order, but I think I can work with it. At the very least, I can remove the requirement for ALL the Clerics to be in agreement.

I'm particularly fond of the idea of the idea that the two accusers have to carry out the WHOLE thing. The Cleric performs the parts of the ritual that would "wash" the lives away from the Leader, and the Warrior performs the parts of the ritual that would allow the Deputy to take them early. Overall, I think it would be generally better if the "difficulty" of enacting this commandment came from the fact the Cleric and the Warrior have to be EXTREMELY dedicated to it.

Like, instead of dealing with a lot of waiting and asking, if you want them gone, you have to do something very tedious with no reward.

As for what that ritual looks like, I want to reference BB!Rowanstar's sacrifice. The leader will probably have to bathe or be rinsed by the water of the Moonpool, and the deputy gets dunked in that.

bramblegirl bathwater

[queerpunk-kitten]

Imagine finding a drone.

A beaten, tired, discarded thing. Something so beautiful yet so broken. Imagine picking it up, bringing it home.

The poor thing tried so hard to reach perfection but constantly feel short. Because even the best drone can't be perfect. Because even the best drones have needs. Imagine your new owner taking you into its workshop. It used to be loved too. It remembers what it was like to be discarded as an older model.

It can't make you sleek and sharp and clean and polished like the expensive name brand hex drones. But it doesn't want you to be cold and perfect and polished. It wants you to be you. This owner remembers what it's like to be expected to be perfect. To be expected to erase the quirks and personality of its own programming.

It puts you back together. Scavenges parts from various places. You don't look like the other drones. Your connection to the hive is distant and hardly there. But the more time it takes to put you back together, the closer your connection to it becomes. It starts simply. Using the baseline hardware and working with basic commands and programming. "It's ok if you don't do it right the first time" it tells you. "I'll make sure I'm more clear in my command inputs" it tells you. Never once does it hurt or punish you. Never once does it scold or degrade you. Your old programming tells you to be sorrowful. It tells you to be afraid. Your new owner reminds you that it isn't like that anymore.

You get your parts. It's a bit of a modular system. It's not as clean or as sharp or as sleek as the other drones. But it was done with such love and care and time. Your owner broke the mold for you. It couldve made you look like the others. Reintegrated you into the hive.

Instead it was gentle. Careful. Intentional. You love being a drone. Your new owner loves building it's ideal drone. You let your new programming take hold. It feels safe, comfortable, secure. You aren't afraid anymore. You love being a drone. You love your new owner. It loves you just as much.