#embedded memory device

[hnry2kkrr]

https://www.futureelectronics.com/p/semiconductors--memory--storage--embedded-storage/emmc04g-w627-x03u-kingston-1111540

What is eMMC storage, eMMC memory, solid-state hard drives

EMMC04G-MT32-01G10

[jhnn2varra]

https://www.futureelectronics.com/p/semiconductors--memory--storage--embedded-storage/emmc04g-m627-e02u-kingston-8130398

eMMC storage drives, emmc storage upgrade, eMMC multimedia cards

4GB eMMC v5.1 3.3V 153-ball BGA Operating Temp - 25C to +85C

[siramory]

heuugghh...heeheuhghh...

[thewhumpcaretaker]

i hope u dont mind i go to you for whump ideas !! do u have any ideas/prompts for a living weapon/forced soldier(?) type thing👀

I certainly do not mind! I do love making prompts.

This is basically a whole genre of whump, so this will be long and I'm just getting started honestly.

💥 Living Weapon Whump 💥

Whumpee is forced to kill - this is kind of the heart of the trauma. How do they deal with it? Do they blame themself? Do they hate the ones who did this to them? One way or another, they have to live with terrible memories of what their own two hands have done.

...Or maybe they don't live with the memories. Whumpee dissociates heavily and perhaps even deals with amnesia from things they can't bear to face.

Dissociation overall is important. To act violently and efficiently in a fight, when you don't want to act, requires separating emotions from actions and becoming distant. When whumpee gets hurt, or sees something horrifying, they don't respond. They're calm. Too calm.

Self-hatred. Viewing themself as a weapon, only good for killing and incapable of love or kindness. Unworthy of having basic human needs met.

If the training started young, whumpee was raised in isolation, so they struggle to understand basic social cues, pop culture references, and just how to act normal. They're very nervous around people.

This can also have other effects on how they socialize and on their personality. Maybe it wasn't safe to have empathy for others if everyone around them was getting hurt and killed regularly, so they lost touch with empathy. Maybe any mistake or sign of weakness would lead to punishment, so honor became crucial.

They're probably going to have an unusual relationship to physical touch. They've mostly only been touched in violent ways, so they'll either be touch starved or touch averse. They flinch when someone moves suddenly. It takes a while to learn that touch can be positive. Maybe sparring and playfighting is one of the only ways they feel comfortable touching other people - or maybe it's something they never want to do with people they love, because it's connected to too many bad memories.

Whumpee expects to be hurt and thinks it's normal. They get into bad relationships, difficult jobs, etc. They don't take care of their health. Why? Because their suffering "doesn't matter." They're just a tool.

Maybe whumpee is conditioned to respond to a code word. When they hear that word or phrase, they start killing anyone around them indiscriminately until another code word (or passing out, or something else) snaps them out of it.

If they can't control when they'll become dangerous (either because of a code word like that, or because they get violent during PTSD triggers, or just because they don't trust themself), maybe they try to incapacitate themself or lock themself up. Maybe they get thrown into prison or an institution on purpose, to protect their loved ones. Maybe they run away.

Maybe whumpee has permanent physical alterations because of their training. Maybe they were branded or tattooed. Maybe they have cryogenic implants or embedded tracking devices. Maybe they've sustained injuries that now result in chronic pain.

Whumpee faces trial for things they were forced to do, things beyond their control. But maybe they blame themself completely. Or maybe they don't, and they're enraged to be in this situation.

I could continue this list for days honestly haha, this is one of my favorite tropes. Now I want to do a separate one focused on living weapon comfort...

[applerose666]

Hello, beautiful people! Here's a new drawing of Kate and Sonic! He's presenting her to Team Sonic! Which is a bad idea, since when she arrived there she thought they were allies of Black Doom, which is why she attacked them, leaving him with extremely deep wounds.But let's remember that now she lost a bit of her memories when they tried to deactivate that device that is embedded in her head, which now serves to keep her powers under control.Shadow will be extremely angry with Sonic for having taken her there, without her consent! Since she could only talk to Rouger, Omega, Amy, Sonic and Shadow as well as Doctor Eggman. But well, I'll try to make a comic about it, but for now I hope it's to your liking. It took me a while since I was a bit distracted and I don't know if it's right!

I also wanted to let you know that I may not draw this week or the next one since I am going to take my university exams, Which will keep me busy since I have to get good grades (oh, I can't lose points, it's not the same as school), so I'll try to draw little ideas in my notebook! And well, I'm going to sleep since I won't have time to grab my phone starting tomorrow... But anyway, I'll do my best to draw after my midterms!

[gravity-between-us]

Gravity Between Us

Chapter 6: Ghosts in the Machine

Summary: Caleb and I have known each other for as long as I can remember. We were once childhood friends, our bond as natural as the stars in the sky. But now, everything has changed. What used to feel like a safe, familiar orbit between us now pulses with unspoken desire.

Our friendship is no longer enough to keep the tension at bay, and the distance between us feels unbearable. Secrets, lies, and unhealed wounds stand in our way. I don’t know if we can survive this new gravity pulling us together... but I can’t keep pretending I don’t want to try.

Pairing: Female! MC x Caleb

Spoilers: Spoilers for Caleb's Myth's as well as memories. Read at your own risk for these. Lore spoilers.

WARNINGS:

Unlikely to be completely canon. The other love interests will not be likely to appear in this fic.

MC is named. MC is socially awkward. MC can be depressed at times.

Very? Slow Burn.

Very explicit smut (Chapter 12 onward): PiV/oral (male and female receiving)/anal sex. Fingering. First time. Pet names (angel, babe, baby, pip-squeak). Kinks: Praise, breeding, creampie, light dom/sub. Rough. Some consensual degradation talk (MC is into it). Probably many, many more that I am forgetting to name. If you see one that should be listed that isn't, feel free to let me know. (MC is a repressed deviant, and so is Caleb.)

Awkward blend of darker moments, angst, fluff, and humour.

Drinking. Questionable life decisions. MC spirals.

Protective Caleb. Both MC and Caleb are a little obsessive and overly protective of each other, which could be considered an unhealthy relationship.

We will revisit memory scenes, but they will be different from the memories in-game.

As proofread as I can get it, but not beta read, so probably some mistakes.

Limited plot - most focus is just on their relationship and interactions.

More warnings could be applied, but as a general rule of thumb, please read at your own risk and do not continue if you find the content triggering.

A flash of dull metal catches my eye in the corner of the room. It’s an old computer, long since corroded. The screen is cracked, the keyboard half-detached, and most of its components are fried, but there’s something wedged into the side—an old memory chip, still embedded in the port.

I hesitate for a moment before pulling it free. The casing is brittle, and I half expect it to crumble in my fingers. Somehow, it stays intact. I don’t have high hopes, but I slide the chip into my Hunter’s watch anyway. The device hums as it processes the data, flickering between corrupted strings of code. A small holographic display appears above my wrist, lines of text streaming too fast for me to catch.

Data corruption detected. Unable to fully recover contents. Processing partial retrieval...

The loading bar crawls forward, stalling, flickering, and then finally stabilizing. The chip contains a distorted audio file that appears, and I press play. 

At first, there’s nothing but static, hissing and popping like a broken transmission, but eventually, a voice crackles through.

“—progress remains stagnant. I had hoped for better results by now, but these things take time. Time we may not have.”

Dead air follows, dragging long enough that I think the recording is over until—

“The Evol subjects remain unpredictable. They manifest in ways we still cannot fully categorize. Standard classifications are becoming obsolete. Some variations are so rare they border on singularities. How do you account for something entirely unique?”

The static swallows the voice again, distorting it into an unrecognizable garble before it cuts back in.

“The human body was never meant to house these modifications. The integration—too volatile. Too many failures. And yet, the directive remains clear. We must succeed.”

Succeed in what? The recording doesn’t say. There’s more static, more silence before the log cuts out completely.

I frown. Evol subjects? Modifications? That sounds eerily similar to what some of the Fleet members were talking about before.

My mind spins with questions I can’t answer as I press on. The next door I find is heavier than the others—reinforced metal that groans when I push it open.

The lights spurt to life the moment I step inside. Unlike the rest of the facility, this room still has power.

Rows of monitors line the walls, their screens humming as they boot up one by one. Some display old system code, lines of text scrolling too fast to follow. Others flash distorted security footage, cycling through different angles of the concrete room I saw earlier—the one with the chairs and restraints. The cameras stutter, static swallowing the feed before they blink back on.

In the corner, something bigger comes online. A mainframe. The technology is old, clunky, and obsolete, but still, its lights flicker awake like eyes opening in the dark, small blinking indicators pulsing in sequence. 

A dashboard stretches across the central console, dozens of buttons flashing, some staying steadily lit. I brush debris away, revealing more controls beneath the dust and grime. 

The main screen in the centre flicks on at last, white text blinking against a black background:

VERIFY IDENTITY.

There’s no login prompt. No password field. No access codes. Nothing I can brute force. I chew my lip, considering my options. It’s a long shot, but maybe—

I lift my hand over the dashboard, focusing on the hum of the system. If I can attune myself to its wavelength, I might be able to overload it. As soon as I channel my Evol, the machine reacts.

The screen explodes with scrolling code, numbers, and sequences flashing too fast to comprehend. The entire system beeps, lights bursting in rapid succession. Then, a robotic voice resounds from the speakers:

“Backdoor mainframe access initiated. Scanning. Please wait. Running backup protocols.”

I jerk my hand back, my heart hammering. The computer continues processing, text scrolling faster. At last—

“Welcome back, A-01.”

I stare at the screen. A-01? That means nothing to me. But at the same time—it does. It feels familiar, though I have no idea why. The screen blinks, waiting for input.

I start testing commands. “What is this place?”

“Sorry. Command not recognized.”

“Who built this facility?”

“Sorry. Command not recognized.”

“What is Project A-01?”

“Sorry. Command not recognized.”

I try one more. “Bring up backup data logs.”

The system hesitates.

“Warning. Backup data severely corrupted. Partial files available. Displaying accessible entries.”

A list of audio logs appears. No dates. No timestamps. No identifying markers.

I select the first one. A voice filters through the speakers, and my blood runs cold. It’s Gran. She sounds younger, but I recognize her immediately.

“Dr. Josephine, lead experimental researcher on Project X-Aether.”

The log plays on.

At first, she sounds excited. She talks about breakthroughs. Progress. How they are on the precipice of the extraordinary. With each successive log, her tone shifts.

“We lost Subject 1 again today. Managed to revive them in time, but we can’t keep pushing this threshold indefinitely.”

“Subject 2’s aggression toward staff continues to escalate. We may need to increase reprogramming efforts.”

“Subject 2 withstands pain beyond projected limits. The threshold is… unnatural.”

“An unexpected development. Subjects 1 and 2 have bonded. No matter how many times Subject 2 is reprogrammed to hate Subject 1, it never seems to stick.”

“We pitted them against each other. Subject 2—who never accepts defeat—lost. Deliberately. Despite knowing the consequences.”

The final entry is a video log. It’s barely visible—static, distortion, the image warping in and out—but I can still see her.

She looks exhausted. Shadows under her eyes. Her voice is softer now, almost resigned.

“They were meant to be weapons. Fail-safes against each other. But we have created something else entirely.” She exhales a shaky breath, as if laughing—or maybe crying. “Together, they are the ultimate weapon.”

The video stutters, glitching into bursts of static as Gran suddenly rises from her desk. The movement knocks the camera askew, tilting the angle so that half the screen is swallowed in shadow. On the desk, half-obscured by a mess of scattered notes and old equipment, is a single framed picture. Two small figures stand frozen in time, but the distortion in the footage makes it impossible to make out any details.

My chest tightens as I take a slow step forward, then another. The glow of the monitor washes over my hands as I reach out, eyes narrowing in an attempt to sharpen the image. Just as I lean in, the screen cuts to black.

The robotic voice crackles to life, emotionless and cold.

“Remote access detected. Identity verification: denied. Data purge initiated. Self-destruction sequence engaged.”

My stomach plummets.

“No, no, no—override command!” My fingers fly across the panel, searching for anything I can use to stop it, but the system has already locked me out. The only thing responding is the damn robotic voice.

“Command revoked. All non-administrative access denied.”

Then, another voice buzzes over the speakers, low and full of restrained fury. “Whoever you are, you’ve made a grave error.”

“Caleb? Caleb, it’s me!” He doesn’t hear me. The alarm blares. A deafening wail that shakes the walls and drills straight into my skull. The countdown begins in the same monotone voice, far too calm for what it announces. 

“Please evacuate. Five minutes until self-destruct.”

The feed cuts.

Shit.

Adrenaline slams into me like a shockwave, and I’m already moving. My boots scrape against the debris as I whirl toward the door. Five minutes. Five minutes to get back up through all the wreckage, the collapsed hallways, the flooded passageways—

I push the thought down and run, throwing myself through the door, ignoring the sting of fresh scrapes as I squeeze through the narrow gap. My flashlight bounces wildly in my grip as I sprint down the hallway, my boots skidding on the slick floor. 

The metal stairs leading up are warped and rusted, but I take them two at a time, hands slamming against the railing to keep myself upright.

There is a shift above me—a groan of metal, the building crying out in its final death throes. I don’t have time to look up before part of the ceiling collapses, sending a cascade of debris crashing down. I hurl myself sideways, barely avoiding being crushed. Dust and rust clog my throat as I cough, blinking through the haze.

A jagged piece of rebar has torn into my sleeve, slicing through my forearm. I grit my teeth and yank free, hot blood trickling down to my wrist. 

No time. No time to stop.

I keep moving, crawling over fallen beams and shattered glass. The halls twist and turn, too many of them looking the same in the emergency lights. I nearly take a wrong turn before spotting a rusted sign pointing back toward the exit. My ankle twinges from an earlier misstep, but I push through the pain, forcing my legs to carry me faster.

The ground quakes beneath me, the facility’s foundations giving way. My breath comes in ragged gasps. The stairwell is up ahead, just beyond a room I hadn’t noticed before. The door is half-open, revealing a large diagram pinned to the far wall.

A human body. Strange, intricate markings cover the skin. I shouldn’t stop. I don’t have time, but my gut screams at me to grab it. I dart inside, snatching the fragile paper from the wall. My fingers smear blood across the edges, but I don’t let go. 

The sirens grow louder, the countdown reaching its final minute. A violent tremor rocks the ground, sending me sprawling. The main exit is ahead, but a chunk of ceiling drops between me and salvation. Smoke, dust, and fire rise in its place.

No way forward. No way back. 

Adrenaline drowns out reason. I spot an air vent, rusted but large enough. I throw myself at it, kicking at the grating until it gives way. The tunnel is narrow, my shoulders scraping against jagged edges, but I force myself through, dragging my body toward the faintest sliver of light ahead.

The final countdown echoes behind me.

Five. Four.

A wave of heat sears my back, the explosion catching up to me.

Three. Two.

I see the exit. A breath away.

One.

A cacophony of fire and destruction erupts behind me. The force propels me forward, sending me tumbling into the open, onto the cold, damp ground outside.

I lay there, chest heaving, pain screaming through every nerve. Smoke curls into the night sky, the ruins of the facility crumbling in on itself. The diagram crinkles in my grip as I shove it into my backpack. My fingers fumble with the zipper, slick with sweat, and the moment it’s secured, I push myself upright only for my ankle to buckle beneath me. 

Pain lances up my leg, sharp enough to drag a hiss from between my teeth. I slam a hand against the nearest tree, using it to keep myself steady. The smoke curling from the crater stings my eyes, reducing everything to shifting shadows and hazy light. 

Without the hatch as a landmark, I have no sense of direction. The stars should be visible, but the thick black haze chokes them out, leaving the sky an empty, suffocating void.

Grumbling under my breath, I dig into my pocket and pull out my phone. The cracked screen stares back at me, dark and useless. At some point during my escape, it must have taken a fatal hit.

“Great.”

I try my Hunter’s watch next, but the charge is too low to connect to a satellite. It lets out a weak, static-filled buzz before giving up entirely.

The smoke is sinking into my lungs, coating my throat with its acrid bite. I pick a direction at random, hoping I’ll come across something—one of the marked trees, a shift in the terrain, anything.

Limping forward, each step sends a fresh jolt of pain through my ankle. The ground is uneven, scattered with loose stones and fallen branches, and every misstep threatens to send me sprawling. 

I walk for what feels like forever with still no sign of the marked trees to orientate me or any other signs leading to my car.

A shiver prickles at the back of my neck. The hair on my arms stands on end, a static-like charge humming beneath my skin. The air shifts, wrong in a way that makes my stomach drop. The Metaflux comes before my watch can even bleat out a warning.

My fingers tighten around the straps of my backpack, and I listen. Somewhere in the dark, just beyond the reach of my flashlight, they materialize.

The underbrush rustles—a soft, unnatural sound, like something brushing against reality itself. Then another, from a different direction. The air distorts, carrying the scent of damp earth and something sickly sweet, something that makes my teeth itch.

I can’t see them yet, but I know they’re there, and there’s more than one. Heart hammering, I reach for my guns. The air is thick with that wrongness, the kind that makes my skin crawl and my instincts scream. I flick on my flashlight, sweeping it across the trees. 

The beam catches nothing but shifting shadows. Then, a shimmer in the dark, a distortion of space like heat warping the air. 

Lurkers.

Not the worst I could be dealing with, but not ideal—not with my ankle the way it is. Lurkers are fast, almost imperceptible when they move, their bodies blending into the environment like a mirage. They won’t stay hidden forever, though. Once they strike, they have to fully materialize.

I adjust my stance. If they’re going to attack, I need to make them do it on my terms. I flick my flashlight off, plunging the forest into near-total darkness.

Silence.

A heartbeat.

The first one lunges. I pivot, planting my good foot into the dirt, and fire twice the second I catch the shimmer of its form breaking into the physical plane. My bullets slam into its chest, the impact sending it reeling back with a sickening, gurgling shriek.

The second one is faster. I feel it before I see it—air shifting at my back. I twist at the last second, narrowly avoiding its claws as they slice through the space I just occupied. Pain flares in my ankle as I land hard, but I grit my teeth, ignoring it.

I whip my gun around and fire at point-blank range.

One. Two. Three shots.

The Lurker hisses, its form flickering erratically before it collapses, twitching, into the dirt. A blur of movement allows me to spot a third one. 

I drop low, just barely dodging as it rakes claws where my throat was a second ago. I roll, ignoring the way my ankle screams in protest, and come up on one knee. The moment I see the distortion break—I shoot.

With a snarl, it fully materializes—tall, emaciated, crystal-like skin stretched too tight over its bones, eyes like empty voids.

The air crackles around me, thick with the scent of burning ozone and charred metal. My chest rises and falls in shallow gasps, adrenaline roaring through my veins as I brace myself for the next attack.

It lunges. I twist, barely avoiding the serrated edge of the blade as I drive my fist into its ribs. Pain flares up my arm, but I don’t stop. Another comes at me from the left, and I duck.

A claw clamps around my wrist. My pulse jumps as an eerie shimmer distorts the air around us. The Wanderer snarls something incomprehensible, and then—

I fall.

No—

I am pulled.

The world stretches and twists, ribbons of colour bleeding into endless black. I try to move, to fight, but my body is weightless, unmoored from gravity itself. My breath catches in my throat. There’s no ground beneath me, no sky above. Just the boundless, infinite void.

A mirage of deep blues and shifting violets ripples around me, as if the universe itself is breathing. Stars glimmer in the distance, pulsing like dying embers. Long, shimmering bands of silver stretch out in all directions, weaving in and out of existence, never solid, never still. 

The vastness of it is suffocating—I have no control, no direction. I am a speck, adrift in an ocean of time and light.

Then I see a plane, floating just as aimlessly as I am. It’s impossible, and yet it’s there, suspended in the nothingness. The hull is scratched, the metal dull beneath the eerie glow of the void. 

I can’t see inside; the cockpit is fogged over, warning lights flickering in frantic bursts across the instrument panel.

My stomach twists. Someone is inside. I reach out instinctively. My fingers brush cold metal, and I grasp onto the wing, pulling myself closer. It’s harder than it should be—every movement feels sluggish, like I’m wading through thick, invisible currents. Hand over hand, I make my way toward the cockpit.

I press my face against the glass. At first, I see nothing but the ghostly reflection of the tunnel’s shifting light. Then, through the haze, I make out a slumped figure in the pilot’s seat.

Caleb.

His head is resting against the glass, his face partially obscured by shadows. His chest barely moves. Blood stains the fabric of his shirt, blooming darkly along the collar. I bang my fist against the glass, panic lancing through me.

“Caleb!”

No sound. My voice is swallowed by the void.

“Caleb, wake up!”

He doesn’t stir. I bang again, harder this time, my other hand still gripping the wing as if letting go will make this nightmare real. But is it real? Or just some cruel trick of the Metaflux? 

I don’t know. I don’t care. All I know is that I can’t watch him die. 

Not again.

Tears sting my eyes. I have to get out of here. I have to kill the Wanderer that dragged me into this abyss, but to do that, I have to leave him behind.

I can’t.

I won’t.

My fingers tighten against the cockpit’s edge, knuckles turning white. I stare at him, at the rise and fall of his breath—faint, too faint—and I make a choice.

I am getting him out of here. One way or another.

The Wanderer drifts in the void, its form shifting, tendrils of darkness curling and unfurling as if it can taste my fear. I need to lure it out—force it into a fight where I have a chance. But how do you fight when there is no ground, no up or down, no way to brace yourself?

“Come on,” I mutter. “Show yourself.”

The void around me pulses like a heartbeat, slow and methodical. Out of the vast nothing, a distortion ripples the space in front of me. The Wanderer shifts, coiling in and out of sight. 

I grab onto the plane’s wing, using it as leverage, twisting my body so I can face it head-on. It moves like liquid shadow, slipping in and out of my vision. I need it to come closer.

I slam my fist against the plane’s surface. The metal clangs, the sound instantly swallowed by the void, but the Wanderer notices. 

It writhes forward, tendrils reaching. I wait. Wait until it is just close enough—

Then I launch myself at it. The moment my fingers make contact with the inky mass, pain lances through my body. It burns, like frostbite and fire wrapped into one. 

My grip falters, but I grit my teeth and tighten my hold. The Wanderer writhes, its shifting form making it impossible to pin down. It lashes out, one of its tendrils cutting into my side, and I bite back a scream. 

I won’t let it win. 

With a snarl, I draw the knife strapped to my thigh and plunge it into the Wanderer’s core. It lets out a soundless scream, its body convulsing. I twist the blade, pushing deeper, and finally, the thing splinters apart like glass shattering in zero gravity.

Everything vanishes in an instant.

I’m on my back, staring up at a canopy of trees. My breathing is ragged, and the weight of reality slams into me. The forest is silent around me. No plane. No void. 

No Caleb.

I push myself up, wincing at the sharp sting in my side where the Wanderer cut me. The wound is still there. It was real, or real enough. I scan the area, but there’s no sign of what I just saw. 

With shaking hands, I make my way through the trees, my steps slow and shambling. The forest feels too still and too empty. I keep expecting the plane to be there, expecting Caleb to still be slumped in that cockpit, but there is nothing.

By the time I reach my car, my limbs are trembling. I slide into the driver’s seat and grip the wheel, trying to steady myself. My mind is a storm, circling the same thought over and over.

Caleb said he was in specialized training when he disappeared for months. I never questioned it. Never pushed him for details. But now… now I’m not so sure.

The dashboard interface lights up when I start my car, and I scroll through my contacts until I find Gideon’s name. 

The line rings once. Twice. Then a groggy voice picks up. “Inara?” Gideon sounds half-asleep. “Do you have any idea what time it is?”

“Gideon.” My voice is tight. “Caleb’s training—when he disappeared for months. Was it real?”

There’s a pause. “Why are you asking me that?”

“Just answer the question.”

“Inara, come on. I don’t—”

“Gideon.” My patience is razor-thin. “Did he lie to me?”

Another pause. It stretches long enough that I know the answer before he even speaks. When he does, it’s careful, too measured. “Caleb… he did what he had to do.”

My stomach twists. “So it was a lie.”

“Inara—”

I end the call before he can say anything else. I grip the wheel so tightly my knuckles turn white. My heart pounds in my chest. 

If Caleb lied about that… what else has he lied about?

Chapter Masterlist

Since Caleb's new Myth is out, I am once again wishing everyone good luck in their pulls. I know I need it. 🤣

Good luck everyone! 🍀🤞🏻

[coldbrewghoul]

To Heat Up and Icy Hatred - Ult!RiDexReader One Shot

A pseudo sequel for To Warm a Frozen Soul, just so I can create smut situations with a lose overarching plot to give me an excuse for some future fun scenarios.

Doctor Richtofen teleports Dempsey and Reader back to Kino der Toten to find a device that can affect the synchronization of minds. For what purpose? Who can tell with the maniacal doctor, but he insists that the device be tested before they leave. Dempsey ends up in an all too familiar situation: in a chair with some strange memory affecting device strapped to his head. An accidental touch brings Reader and Dempsey together in one mission: to serve the handsome German doctor.

Notes: Shameless Smut, Kino Der Toten Map, Threesome, Memory Alteration, Banter, Love Confessions, Fluff, Headaches & Migraines

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

You lounged on a theater seat, exhausted and questioning all your life choices, while you waited for the two men to finish their bickering. They’d probably be at it for a while… You contemplated running out to the lobby to fix the popcorn machine so you could have a snack with the show they were putting on for you, yelling at each other like an old married couple on the stage. 

“I did not agree to go on a wild goose chase for another dumbass Nazi experiment that will probably melt my brain, Richtofen!” Dempsey was pacing around the German angrily, his boots stomping loudly on the wood of the stage. “Take us back to Tak and Nikoai right now!”

“Ja, let me just fix  the teleporter with all the spare parts I keep in my pocket,” Richtofen replied sarcastically, rolling his eyes and gesturing to the teleporter as it fizzled with showers of blue sparks. When the three of you arrived, the insertion point had been off; instead of appearing nicely on the stage you’d gotten to experience being slammed around the Stupid Tin Can of Danger as it fell from above the theater. Now it lay at an angle embedded halfway into the stage.

“Jesus fucking Christ, would it kill you to make it work right once?” Dempsey shouted, waving his arms in exasperation.

“Pretty sure it almost killed him just now,” you chimed in, adding fuel to their fire. Richtofen shot you a look that said you’d be paying for that comment later when he got you alone. You looked forward to it.

“This is a Group 935 research station, my dear idiot American. I am sure we will find the parts we need to fix the teleporter quickly and we’ll be back before you know it.” Richtofen paused, a grin spreading over his face. “After we search for the N.S.A.”

“Absolutely not. I am not trusting you with anything called the NSA!” Dempsey scoffed, looking at you for backup and glaring when you just shrugged. He turned back to Richtofen. “The last thing we need is for you to get access to some National Security thingy.”

“Nein, nein, it’s nothing so nefarious as you suggest. It is simply a Neural Synchronization Amplifier,” Richtofen explained, looking innocent.

“So you can read our goddamn brains? That sounds worse!”

Everyone froze as a high-pitched screeching followed by chittering filled the air. In a heartbeat, you were standing with your gun to your shoulder, scanning the area around Richtofen to make sure he wasn’t in danger. Your heart squeezed when you saw he was doing the same for you, looking out at the theater, gun in hand. It was Dempsey who found the Nova 6 Crawler first, shooting it multiple times before it lunged at him, making a guttural, insect-like hiss, its claws extended.

You got a few shots in and between the two of you it dropped from the air before it got too close, screeching before exploding and leaving a hissing gas cloud. You scrambled up to the stage to join the men. “Instead of wasting time bickering let’s just find the parts we need and whatever it is Edward is looking for so we can get the fuck out of here,” you suggested, staring at the gas cloud with a look of disgust on your face. The Nova 6 Crawlers creeped you out more than anything.

“How are you not worried about him getting his hands on this Neural Synchro–whatever?” Dempsey growled, upset by your betrayal. “And… when the fuck did you start calling him–” He jabbed a thumb at the doctor. “–Edward?” The way he said Richtofen’s first name was mockingly high pitched.

Your ears turned red and your eyes widened as you realized your slip up. You and Edward had been keeping your relationship a secret from the rest of the team for the past month. It hadn’t been easy–the two of you were so damn horny you’d almost been caught multiple times while sneaking off to fuck in closets and any other dark corner you could find. Okay, you’d been trying to keep it a secret. Edward continued to flirt and tease you in front of everyone, but since he’d always done that it didn’t really garner any attention.

“Are we going to stand here all day listening to your delusional ramblings?” Richtofen teased, saving you from coming up with a way to salvage the situation.

“Look who’s talking, doc. You practically invented delusional rambling!” Dempsey growled, his attention back on the German man he hated so much.

“Boys! Mission!” You snapped, no longer as amused by their antics as you were earlier. “I’d really like to get this over with before we have to deal with more of those damn crawler things.”

“I second that, doll. Those freakbags are fucking creepy,” Dempsey agreed. “And they smell like a pool of shit.”

“But their screams are so…erotic…ja!” Richtofen moaned, biting his lip and rolling his eyes back in a mock orgasm.

You blushed and laughed. Dempsey just looked disgusted. “Your boat gets floated by some freaky shit, doc….”

Tank was right about that. You knew firsthand just how freaky Edward preferred his sex. “Isn’t most of the testing stuff back in the dressing room?” You said pointedly, reminding them there was a mission to complete here.

“Right you are!” Richtofen grinned. “Ah! My favorite room. All that delicious brainwashing equipment!”

The three of you headed behind the stage, dealing with the zombies that roamed across your path, until you found the psychological experiment lab. Where there were once dress racks there were now intimidating chairs with what looked like electroshock therapy devices on top. Instead of make-up on the vanities there were syringes and wires. Your sick little mind wondered how much fun Edward and you could have in a room like this. You pulled the doctor aside while Dempsey was busy elsewhere to whisper in his ear. “Next time, bring me here alone.” You wiggled your eyebrows suggestively.

Edward let out a quiet groan, his eyes filling with lust and delight. “Mein gott, I love how depraved you are, Schatz… If I hadn't needed a test subject…” He sighed looking at Dempsey, panicking as the American picked something up to inspect it. “Ach! Put that down! Who knows what damage you might cause with your clumsy hands!”

You watched him run off to snatch some weird helmet out of Tank’s hands. “Ah! Wunderbar! This is exactly what I was looking for. Perhaps you are a good dog after all, Dempsey.”

Dempsey rolled his eyes. “Great, let’s find the parts we need for the teleporter and get out of here.”

“Not yet,” Richtofen said, an evil grin. “I have to make sure it’s working!” He looked at Dempsey meaningfully.

“Oh, hell no!” Dempsey said, taking a step back and holding up his hands. “I am not letting you put that thing on me!”

“Oh, my dear Dempsey, it’s not as if you have any brain cells left to worry about! I’m not fixing anything until I’ve made sure this works.” The German doctor grinned, motioning for him to sit down on one of the chairs. “Besides, what do you have to worry about? That you’ll lose the memories you already don’t have anymore?”

“And who’s fault was that!” Dempsey roared, pushing Richtofen away from him as the doctor tried to put the helmet on his head.

“I’ll do it.”

They both looked at you with concern. “Abso-fucking-lutely not,” Dempsey said firmly.

“I’m afraid you would not be an ideal test subject,” Richtofen said, narrowing his eyes. “Dempsey is the perfekt specimen for this test.”

“Yeah, but he’s saying no and I just want this over with,” you said, exasperated. You sat down in the cleanest looking chair and waited expectantly.

Dempsey shook his head. “Jesus fucking Christ, get out of the damn chair. I’ll do the fucking experiment and then we are getting the hell out of here.” He grabbed your arm to pull you up and sat down in your place.

“But–”

You started to speak, but Tank cut you off. “No way. The doc is right. My brain has already been fucked with. Yours hasn’t. If he ain’t letting us leave until we test the stupid thing out then it’s gonna be on me…” His voice softened, a sadness seeping into them. “You should keep your memories.”

Your brows furrowed and you pressed your lips together as empathy for the man sitting in front of you squeezed your chest. You could only imagine how terrible it would be to lose your memories; forgetting people you loved, precious moments of your life wiped away… Glancing at Richtofen, who suffered with memories that weren’t even his crowding his brain, you wondered if these two men who hated each other so much knew how the other suffered. Perhaps they could bond over it… Doubtful.

Richtofen grabbed you by the hips, interrupting your musing to shift you aside so he could place the helmet over Dempsey’s head, futzing with wires and settings. You bit the skin around your thumbnail nervously. “He’s going to be fine, right?”

Edward turned to look at you, reading your anxiety easily. “Of course! I know what I’m doing. I am a doctor after all,” he said assuringly. Did he realize how absolutely not assuring it was when he reminded people he was a doctor? Especially because of what kind of doctor he was… You decided to stay close to Dempsey, sitting down in the chair and patting his hand.

It was a mistake. A stupid mistake. Richtofen hadn’t noticed you’d touched Tank when he turned the helmet on. Both you and Dempsey’s heads snapped back and your brain was flooded with fuzzy images; vague broken memories of running around golden wheat fields that rose over your head, crawling through muddy obstacle courses while someone yelled above, being dragged by guards to a cell, screaming in pain while bound to a table, and Richtofen’s leering smile while you writhed in agony…

You woke up with the worst headache of your life, bringing your hand to your eyes to block out the light. Someone pulled your hand away, spreading your eyelids open one by one as you tried to swat them away. You could barely make out that there were two figures leaning over you, let alone identify them. You kicked out to get them away from you, your foot colliding with the abdomen of the one who’d touched your eyes. The other one grabbed you as you lunged to get upright. They were big and strong, trapping your arms to your sides as you struggled for freedom.

“Whoa there, girlie. It’s just us! You’re safe! We ain’t trying to hurt you.” Tank’s familiar voice said, grunting as you kicked his shin. “Well, I’m not trying to hurt you… Can’t speak for the doc, but I think he’s gonna be busy trying to breathe for a while…”

You stopped fighting and he put you down, stabilizing you as you wobbled dizzily. You clutched your head as sharp pain stabbed through your temple. “What the fuck happened?” Your voice was slurred and distorted.

“Your minds… linked… from contact…” Richtofen huffed, getting up and clutching his abdomen. “I knew you had… toned legs, but… fick, that hurt.”

“What does that mean? Linked?” You pressed your palms on either side of your face as if you could squeeze the torment out of your brain.

“It means you got my memories… and I got yours,” Dempsey answered, shifting uncomfortably.

“Then why the fuck are you okay?” You grumbled at the unfairness. He looked perfectly fine and here you were dying! Edward pulled your hands down to your sides and began massaging your temple. You squinted as things slowly came back into focus and the first thing you saw was how worried your lover was, examining you carefully.

“Because your memories were whole and healthy, liebe. His weren’t and… you may have suffered some of his neurological damage,” Edward said softly, pressing his cool fingers into various pressure points on your head. “Es tut mir so leid… I should have noticed… should have told you not to touch him.”

Something clicked and you looked at Tank in horror. “You have my memories?!” You pulled away from Edward’s touch, regretting it immediately as the throbbing returned without his ministrations. “Oof…” You found a chair and sat back down. Edward followed to continue his tending to you.

“Yeah… uh… some of the more… recent ones and…” Tank’s face went beet red as he looked anywhere but at you. “Um, anything… where you felt strong… uh… emotions.”

Blood rushed to your face, not helping the headache situation at all. “Oh my god…”

“Yeah, you uhhhh… you say that a lot in most of them,” he admitted sheepishly.

Richtofen was smirking and you kicked him lightly. “I am so, so sorry, Tank!”

“Has anyone told you that you have terrible taste in men?” Dempsey asked, shaking his head. “Jesus, the things I now have to live with knowing… I’d already seen too much of the doc with his clothes on, I didn’t need to know what he looked like naked…”

If the migraine didn’t kill you the mortification would for sure. You groaned, looking at Edward to commiserate with. He didn’t seem bothered by this nearly as much as you did. In fact, the bastard was practically giggling at the whole situation. “Stop it,” you hissed.

“Really you’re quite lucky, Dempsey,” Edward said playfully. “I am a fantastic fuck.”

“Just shut up,” the American growled, looking anguished. “Jesus fucking Christ, I had been wondering what all that screaming from the lighthouse in Siberia was about… ugh!”

“Look, I can explain–”

Dempsey put up a hand to cut you off. “No, I think I’ve got all the explanation I need in here–” he tapped the side of his head, grimacing “–and I really don’t think I wanna hear about it on top of experiencing it. The fact that you actually love a creep like him…”

Your eyes widened. Edward’s eyes widened, head whipping to look at Dempsey and then back at you. The lines between his brows deepened and his eyes were pleading with you for answers, confirmation… You sheepishly shrugged, grimacing. “Well, it’s not… that’s not exactly how I meant for you to find out—” He lunged for your lips, trapping you to the chair as he passionately devoured you.

“Oh gross! Just because I know now doesn’t mean you guys shouldn’t keep hiding it. Please, by all means, keep finding broom closets to fuck in!” Dempsey said somewhere nearby. You ignored him, your arms around Edward’s neck, a hand feeling the back of his hair and brushing against the edge of his cap, sighing happily into his kiss. Your lips were swollen by the time he was done ravishing them.

“We should rest here for the night,” Edward said, caressing his fingers over your forehead. “It’s quite late. You were out for a while and some sleep will give your brain time more to process what it experienced.”

“I wouldn’t say no to a nap, but the zombies–” You looked and realized that while you were passed out the men must have barricaded the room. They’d piled furniture in front of the doorways and windows. “I guess I was out for a while…”

“Stay here and take this.” Edward pulled out some pills from his medical pouch and handed them to you. “I will set up a nice place for you to sleep.” He kissed your forehead and went to gather cushions and anything soft he could find to make a bed.

You popped the pills in your mouth, washing them down with a swig from your canteen. The headache wasn’t as strong as when you first woke up, but it was still pounding against your eardrums. You glanced around, your eyes landing on Dempsey. You cocked your head to the side, watching him as he watched Edward bend over to spread out the various throw pillows and old fur coats he’d collected. The soldier licked his lips, his eyelids heavy as he stared at the doctor’s ass. You blinked. How much had merging your minds affected him?

With a shake of his head the American broke from the trance he was in. When he noticed you staring, he pursed his lips together. “I don’t want to hear a fucking word from you,” he hissed as he passed you to go find his own place to sleep as far away as possible from the bed Richtofen was setting up. You chewed your cheek to keep from laughing.

When Edward was done, he offered you a hand and you followed him to the bed. He insisted on helping you out of your gear much to Dempsey’s distress. “Guys, no. Just… Don’t even think about it,” he grumbled from his corner.

“Oh shush you,” Richtofen called as if scolding a child. “She’s in no state for me to play with her tonight. I am simply preparing her for bed.”

“I wouldn’t say I’m in that bad a state,” you said loud enough for Tank to hear, grinning at Edward.

“I’m going to vomit. It’s going to be Siberia all over again!” Tank threatened. You remembered the horror of being trapped in the teleporter with poor sick Takeo and your upper lip curled in disgust. Edward just giggled, finishing his task and stripping his own gear off till he was just in his slacks. He got down on the bed and bade you to lay down with him.

“Oh my goodness,” you said in excitement. “We get to sleep together?!” The closest you two had gotten to laying down together during bedtime was staring at each other from separate sleeping bags.

“Well, he already knows…No point in pretending now.” Edward grinned as you eagerly snuggled up to him. The medicine he’d given you earlier was already taking the edge off of your migraine.

“You two are disgusting!”

“Shut up, Dempsey!” Both you and Edward yelled in unison, giggling like children.

“Ohhhh this is so nice,” you whispered, pressing your body to his.

“Gut, rest,” your lover ordered, holding you in his muscled arms. For an older man, he was surprisingly well toned. You supposed running around killing zombies helped with that. Closing your eyes, your fingers ran through the patch of grey hair on his chest. He hummed contentedly, caressing your back, and you kept up the soft touches even after your arm started aching. Eventually Dempsey’s snores filled the room, but you were still wide awake, your head throbbing too much to actually fall asleep.

“You need to rest,” Edward whispered, placing a hand over yours to stop your caresses. “Go to sleep.”

“I’m trying…” you whined quietly. “My head still hurts like hell.”

“Roll over,” he said, jutting his chin to direct you.

Confused, you followed his order and rolled onto your side so your back was to him. He curled his body around yours, his hand coming to rest on your abdomen. After a moment of adjusting so both of you were comfortable on the lumpy cushion bed, his fingers began to trail up your shirt. You twisted to look back at him, raising an eyebrow.

“The endorphins an orgasm releases is often quite helpful in relieving headaches, despite many wives denying the fact,” he stated, getting a handful of your breast and massaging it gently before doing the same to the other. You bit your lip to stifle any accidental noises as warmth coiled in your lower stomach. He played with your nipples, pinching and rolling them while he planted kisses into the base of your neck. When your whole body was tense with anticipation, your thighs shifting together as you became desperate for friction, he slid his hand down your stomach to between your thighs.

You let out a quiet gasp as he slipped under your panties and found the slick wetness that had built up between your folds. Letting out a low growl in your ear, his cock hardened against your ass as your arousal excited him. He teased you, stroking the sensitive skin around your pussy until you were hyper aware of his touch before he gave you what he knew you really wanted. He started with slow circles around your clit, covering your mouth with his free hand as you whimpered. You pressed back against his cock, wanting more, but he tsked. “Stop trying to distract your doctor from administering your treatment,” he admonished playfully, grazing your ear with his teeth and making your whole body shudder.

His fingers began to move faster, more insistent. You couldn’t help the low, breathy moan that escaped from your lips into his hand. His fingers tightened across your face, careful to leave your nose uncovered so you could still breathe while your hips bucked slightly. When you pressed into the hand on your cunt, he heeded your request, circling your bud faster and applying pressure with the heel of his palm. You keened, your orgasm building up as your pussy clenched in pain, begging to be filled.

That’s when you noticed it. Two small pinpoints of light reflecting off shiny surfaces in the distance where Dempsey was supposedly sleeping–your mind had been too far gone to notice his snoring had stopped. In the dim light you could just barely see him, lips parted, hand down his pants as he watched you getting fingered. The two of you stared at each other until Edward noticed your attention had been pulled elsewhere and followed your gaze. His chest vibrated against your back as he chuckled. “You’ll get a better view over here,” he suggested, removing his hand from your cunt to toss the jackets you were using as blankets off you.

You gasped as cold air hit you and Edward no longer warmed you from behind. With predatory swiftness he shifted to hover over you, stripping your panties down your legs and tossing them in Dempsey’s direction. You were grabbed around the waist and pulled up so he could sit you up on his lap, your back to his chest again. For a brief moment you could see Tank, leaning against the wall in the corner of the room, his arm moving rhythmically as he watched, a conflict between lust and disgust in his eyes. Your view was obstructed as Edward peeled your shirt off you, exposing you completely.

Holding you to him with a hand clutching your breast, Edward resumed attacking your pussy. His chin rested on your shoulder as he watched Dempsey stare at the two of you, spreading your lips with his fingers to show you off. You whimpered as your warm, wet core was hit with frigid air. Edward slowly slid a finger inside you, filling you, but not enough.

“Don’t be so shy,” Edward called to the corner. “Put on a show for her.”

You watched through your eyelashes as Tank hesitated. He wanted it, but nervousness held him back. After what you assumed was an interesting debate with himself he stood, stripping off his clothes and edging closer. Edward entered you with a second digit and the American groaned, watching you get finger fucked like it was hypnotising him. He was standing in front of you now, looking down, unsure what to do, what he was allowed to do. You weren’t sure either. This was Edward’s game and whatever he decided you were happy to go along with.

“Let her see you stroke yourself,” your German lover ordered, his voice getting husky. Your head lolled back onto his shoulder as he rubbed his palm into your clit while curling his fingers to press into the spot he knew would send you over the edge. He no longer prevented your moans and you released them freely.

Tank wrapped his hand around his cock, pumping it eagerly. You had a great view from Edward’s lap, right at the other man’s waist height. You licked your lips. It wasn’t a bad cock. Not quite as long as Edward’s, but thicker. The way he handled himself you could tell he’d would fuck roughly. You barely noticed when two of Edward’s fingers slipped into your mouth and a voice bade you to suck them. You did automatically, but you were already slipping into a state of mind that was more instinct than logic.

“She’s very good with her mouth. Why don’t you find out for yourself?” Edward gripped your jaw, pulling it open and almost immediately it was filled with a needy cock. A hand rested on your head, but it was swatted away. “At ease, soldier,” your lover teased the American, “I will guide her for you.”

At once Tank obeyed, holding his hands behind his back. Edward grabbed a fistfull of your hair at the base of your head and thrust you onto the cock, sending your lips to the base. Tears filled your eyes and you looked up, but Tank wasn’t looking at you. His eyes were locked to something–someone–just over your shoulder. It was Richtofen he couldn’t keep his eyes off of. You could relate.

Using your hair, Edward began to fuck the other man with your mouth, pulling you forward and back while you focused on three things: sucking, finding chances to breathe, and the tightening in your core as Edward’s thumb moved fast against your clit, a third finger sliding inside you.

After getting used to (and loving the hell out of) how loud Edward was while fucking, it was almost disconcerting how quiet Tank was. All you heard was the lewd wet noises from the penetration of both your lips and Edward’s encouraging whispers in your ear: “Such a good girl… meine kleine Schlampe…”

“Fuck, I’m going to cum!” Tank finally spoke, gasping as if he’d been holding his breath while his hips started to shudder.

“Not before her,” Edward hissed sharply, working your cunt roughly. “But lucky for you, she’s close… and she looks thirsty.” He yanked your head back as you cried out, your pleasure snapping inside you. “Now.”

Tank only had to stroke his cock a couple times before his cum was spurting into your open mouth. You swallowed, eyes widening in shock at just how much was expelled out of him. When his outpour slowed you leaned forward to suck him clean, his knees shaking as you overstimulated him. When you’d gotten the last taste of him in your mouth you pulled away to relax back against Edward, turning your head to kiss his jaw.

Tank dropped to his knees in front of the two of you, leaning forward. To both yours and Edward’s surprise Dempsey pressed his lips to the other man’s. You watched, catching your breath, as Dempsey closed his eyes and kissed your lover ardently. Edward glanced out of the corner of his eye at you, hesitating. You smiled and shrugged, shifting to kiss his cheek. With some trepidation, Edward kissed the other man back, accepting Dempsey’s request to deepen it so their tongues could explore each other’s mouths. Tank’s naked chest was pressed against yours, pinning you between the two of them. Edward grabbed one of the other man’s hands, pulling it to one of your breasts while he played with the other.

You hummed contentedly as two different sized hands roamed your body, listening to the two men kiss, but that wasn’t enough Edward. He shifted and pushed your head in so your lips joined theirs, everyone taking turns tasting each other to the point you had no idea whose lips were on yours at any given moment.

Edward was still rock hard against your back and the fact that he’d held off seeking out his own pleasure for this long was an injustice you intended to rectify. You pushed Dempsey away from the two of you and slipped off Edward’s lap so you could guide him to lay down on his back on the bed, yanking his pants off. Tank looked uncertain as you began to lick Edward’s cock, purposefully sitting on one side of your lover’s hips so the soldier could have the other. You raised an eyebrow at him as you kissed the head. “Well, aren’t you going to help me?”

He crawled forward, joining you. You noticed with a smirk he was pulling the tricks you usually used for giving head, your memories guiding him. Your tongues brushed together and sometimes your lips bumped as you both licked and sucked. Edward added to the chorus of wet noises with gasps and moans, his hands coming to rest on both of your heads while the two of you serviced him. “Fick, (y/n), it’s like I have two of you…”

You used one hand to rub his nipple while the other caressed and dragged your nails over his thigh. Dempsey gently massaged Edwards balls, his eyes glazed. You noticed with amusement that he seemed to be lost in the same subspace that buzzed your mind whenever Edward dominated you. Pulling back, you crawled up to kiss and bite Edward’s neck while Dempsey wrapped his lips around the cock he now had all to himself.

Your sweet Doctor was panting, his head tossed back in pure bliss as the two of you tended to his pleasure. “Ahhh… meine liebe…” Edward breathed, finding your lips and kissing you. You teased his tongue out with yours and sucked it, running your fingers through his short hair. You could feel his hips shudder and buck, making Dempsey gag as the hard cock was shoved deep down his throat. Edward cried out as he came, his whole body trembling from the overwhelming amount of attention he was receiving. When Dempsey sat up, drool and cum dripping down his chin, you saw with satisfaction that he chose to swallow the load in his mouth.

You licked and kissed Edward’s ear, administering gentle caresses over his body as his orgasm ebbed. “I love you,” you whispered, surprised as Tank’s voice joined yours with the same words. The American was resting his head on Edward’s hips, running his fingers over the doctor’s toned abs, looking up at Edward adoringly. Your lover smirked and whispered in your ear: “That is the look you give me every time I fuck you.”

You blushed. Tank looked pathetic, fully submissive, and absolutely fucked out. Is that really how you looked after Edward was done with you? Lost in carnal bliss and worshipful love? Edward turned your chin so you were looking back at him and you accepted his kiss, returning it with soft nips to his lower lip. Dempsey’s breath evened out as he fell asleep, holding on to one of the German’s legs.

Edward sighed happily. “He’s such a lucky man. You’ve been so generous to him tonight, liebling. Who knew you were so willing to share?”

“What about you? I was surprised you were willing to let him touch me at all. You are so possessive.”

He smirked. “At first I only meant to tease him–show him how gorgeous you were, how delicious it was to fuck you, how you were mein. But the way he looked at me… It was the way you always looked at me und…well, what can I say? My horniness took over.”

“Will he always be like this?” Your whisper was barely audible in case Dempsey could hear you in his sleep. “I’m not sure I’m willing to share you all the time, but I’d feel bad denying him if he feels the way I do about you.”

“All the reports say the effect should be temporary, but with the damage to his mind…who can say if the effect will linger longer?” He cupped your cheek. “Do not worry, mein liebe. He may have swayed me with your look, but he is not you. He is not mein the way you are. The way you will always be…”

He paused, trapping you with the gaze of his icy blue eyes. “I think… I love you. As much as anyone such as me can love. Whatever my heart can muster is yours.”

“Whatever your heart can muster is enough for me,” you whispered, tears filling your eyes.

He frowned. “Nien, meine liebe! Why are you crying?”

“Because I love you so much and Tank ruined my confession,” you warbled out, “I wanted the moment I finally told you to be perfect!”

“Oh, Schatz, every moment with you is perfekt,” he chuckled, kissing your nose.

“Edward…”

“Yes, liebe?”

“I don’t care what the others think. I’m sleeping in your bed every night from now on.”

He gave you one of those special genuine smiles. “I think I can handle that.”

“Good, because that’s another thing Dempsey is ruining right now. My first night in your arms…”

“Oh, absolutely not.” He shook his leg and Tank woke up with a start. “Off to your own bed, dog!”

Tank grumbled about being woken up so unceremoniously and you felt a little bad as he sleepily wandered back to grab his clothes and curl up on his pile of old dresses in the corner. Edward sat up to adjust the bed that got messed up from the threesome and then pulled you down to him so your head was on his shoulder. He tossed the jackets you’d been using as blankets back over the two of you. “Is your head feeling any better?”

“Hm, I don’t know… perhaps you should apply another treatment, doctor.” You wiggled your eyebrows.

“I think you imagine you are in a relationship with a much younger man, liebling,” he scoffed. “As much as your insatiability endears you to me, a man of my age has limits. My energy has been… sucked dry.” The corners of his lips curled up at his pun.

“I think dealing with a younger you would kill me,” you mused. “You’re already so…energetic. If you could last multiple rounds I’d probably die.” Your words got quieter as you started drifting to sleep, happily cuddling him. His hand smoothed your hair and you barely heard his whisper as you slipped into a deep slumber.

“I do love you. I know it. These feelings… They are mine and mine alone.”

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

You woke up safe and warm in your lover’s arms for the first time, looking up at him while he slept peacefully. As your eyes focused to glance around the room you saw that Dempsey was still fast asleep… and that there was a bulge in the makeshift blankets at Edward’s hips. Taking advantage of the situation, your fingers carefully trailed down his chest to find his cock, wrapping your hand around the shaft and pumping his length. He stirred, a sigh released from his lips as his eyes fluttered open. After a brief moment of post-sleep confusion his eyes snapped open, becoming aware of what was happening. He was rolling on top of you in milliseconds.

“My, my, someone’s impatient,” he murmured, knocking your knees aside and taking no time at all to run the tip of his cock along your slit until he found your hole, entering you roughly with a hard thrust. “Good morning, Schlampe.”

“Good morning, Herr Doktor,” you moaned as he worked his way fully inside you, wrapping your arms around his ribs to grip his back. You leaned up to kiss him, morning breath be damned. Growling against you, hungry for your flesh, he captured your bottom lip between his teeth. You gasped, pressing your hips up against him until he was fully sheathed inside you. As soon as the tip of his cock pressed against your cervix he began rutting into you, forcefully taking his pleasure knowing that the violence would quickly send you to yours. You whimpered, digging your nails in and attempting to rock your hips in time.

“Such an insatiable desperate little hure,” Edward crooned, grinning as he looked down upon you.

“I… I didn’t get enough of your Schwanz last night…” You groaned, your head tossing back in ecstacy.

He grabbed your exposed neck and squeezed, pounding into you with even more force. “Regretting being so generous? Feeling a tad possessive of me, Schätzchen?”

“You’re mine,” you said firmly, forcing the words out despite his grip on your throat, arching your back to allow him more access.

He took what you gave, his hip bones colliding against your pelvis with each stroke. “I think I may be,” he conceded, his ability to speak lessening as his breathing got heavier. His eyes fluttered as your cunt squeezed around him, enjoying the feel of your orgasm. The pleasure sparked stars in your air-deprived darkening vision. He relaxed his grip so you didn’t pass out while he overstimulated you, continuing to fuck you past your climax.

Whimpering and writhing underneath him, your nails scratched down his back as the sensations overwhelmed you. He chuckled, delighted by how pathetic you were acting under him, watching you with heavy lidded eyes. Your spasms were quickly sending him to his own orgasm, his thrusts becoming erratic until his cock was twitching and spurting cum deep inside you. When finished, he laid down on top of you, nuzzling into your neck with a satisfied hum. You kissed his temple, holding him close as his weight pressed down on you comfortably.

“He will not take me from you,” Edward whispered suddenly.

“What?”

He pulled back and kissed your forehead before getting up to find something to clean you with. “Ach! Just the voices, liebling,” he dismissed with a wave of his hand.

You narrowed your eyes at his back, not quite sure you believed him. Usually the way he spoke to his hallucinations was less… softly serious. He didn’t let you think about it for long, kissing your thoughts away as he wiped you with a cloth. Dempsey started stirring as the two of you got dressed. “Morning, sleepyhead,” you called over to him.

He sat up quickly and looked at the two of you, his face turning red. “Last night… Did we–Did I really…?”

“Ja, and you were quite good at it too,” Edward replied, teasing him. “It’s a pity you insist on using your mouth to spout stupid nonsense instead of sucking cocks more often.”

You gave Edward a light punch on his shoulder and a Be nice! look. Tank groaned and busied himself with putting his gear on quickly, not looking at either of you. There was an awkward silence in the room as everyone prepared to head out, but before the three of you left the room the soldier approached you both.

“We never speak of last night,” he said firmly, but then an unreadable look crossed his face. “I-I enjoyed it. Not sure how much of it was me and not her or if there is even a difference now, but… Damn it, this is fucking weird. Just know it is not happening again.”

Richtofen invaded the man’s personal space, backing him up against the wall. “Are you sure about that, my dear, sweet Dempsey?”

Tank’s breathing hitched, his eyes dilating as he was cornered by the German doctor. His lips parted and you noticed a distinct bulge growing in his pants. “Fuck,” he moaned miserably. “Please tell me this isn’t permanent.”

“Who knows?!” Richtofen laughed, stepping away to give him space to recover.

You contemplated what this might mean for the future, supposing that if you weren’t having to hide your relationship with Richtofen anymore maybe you could handle sparing him to have fun with Tank everyo once in a while. You had enjoyed how fucked out Edward had looked with the both of you pleasuring him… You stepped into the space Edward had given Dempsey, reaching up to pull your lover in for a kiss before grabbing Tank’s collar to guide him to take a turn. He accepted your offer with no hesitation, closing his eyes and kissing your man tenderly.

“The fact that you actually love a creep like him…” You quoted back at Tank when the kiss was over, giving him an evil grin. He blushed and looked away.

“Okay, maybe I spoke too soon…” He whispered at a nearby lamp.“It’s hard to resist the Doctor,” Richtofen said gleefully. “After all, I am a fantastic fuck!”

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

[prettysymbiosis]

Hello! I saw you think many of the songs Zayn sang on his tour are Liam/Ziam songs. I'd like to know what are those songs? I have some guesses, like Scripted. And why do you consider them Ziam songs?

Thank you.

Hey there, sorry it took me a few days to answer this, it's been another hell of a week in america 😵‍💫

I will link you to this post where I named many of the most ziam-coded songs in Zayn's discography (I think it's embedding the link?)

You're spot on with Scripted! I consider that and the other songs in this list ziam songs because they most strongly evoke the dynamics and imagery of Zayn and Liam's relationship – unrequited longing, seemingly requited but confusing attraction, truth vs. lies, secrecy, having to conform to external expectations that aren't authentic, wanting so badly to say something but not knowing how or doing it wrong, alcohol as an emotional crutch, lines drawn and crossed, things that could have been, dreams/films/memories as filters for reality, and ultimately just a deep, aching love.

I can honestly see Liam in the vast majority of Zayn's music, because I think theirs was a super formative attachment for both of them as young queer people in the public eye, and Zayn feels things so deeply and does not easily let them go 😅 So it makes sense that he would keep going back to those experiences (and everything with the band) year after year of writing music. I definitely think he's written about other people and things as well, just not as much.

Liam really was a muse for him, and the lack of resolution between them must have hung over Zayn because goodness knows it's hung over me, a random observer. That's what makes Liam's death even more sad – the fact that they never really got to resolve any of it. And that's why the chord at the end of It's You is such a mindfuck, because it's a musical device intended to convey lack of closure, and Ziam are now the archetype of that forever. Golden is a mindfuck too, because it speaks of a whole other reality where they could have been together, been in love and been happy, but ultimately accepts that we don't always get to have the things we imagine. Some dreams don't come true and that's also an important part of life.... it just feels so eerily prescient and that much more tragic to listen to them now.

Something I've been thinking about lately is now that the person that Zayn's been writing about for a decade has suddenly disappeared, we're surely going to get some songs about that disappearance on the next album, whenever that may be, and that scares me a bit. But as always, I'll be listening with an open heart.

Thank you for the question, I hope this sheds some light on my perceptions, and please feel free to share your thoughts with me if you ever want to ❤️

[urayuli]

Incident Log 9636-89

On May 9, 19██, Mobile Task Force Rho-13 "Party Crashers" were deployed to ███ County, West Virginia following reports of anomalous wildlife and resident disappearances. Despite being equipped with satellite radio devices, MTF Rho-19 lost contact with foundation operatives shortly after entering a patch of woods off of I-█. Attempts to reinstate communication with MTF Rho-19 failed. After a week of no updates, all operatives sent were considered MIA.

On June 23, 19██, Agent Abigail Oakley emerged onto I-█ and was taken to the nearest hospital by a local resident. After being identified, Agent Oakley was recovered and transported to Site-17 for further care once stable. She entered the hospital with what should have been lethal lacerations to her neck, arms, chest, and legs, as well as SCP-963's chain embedded in the back of her neck. Agent Oakley, henceforth referred to as SCP-963-1, made a steady recovery as per the nature of SCP-963, but never gained memory of the events transpired on May 9 to June 23. None of the remaining MTF Rho-13 operatives have been seen since and are thus assumed dead.

[feathers-feathers]

<- Previous

Maki offered his explorer badge, and it's embedded crystal, to the hologram for it to rebuild it's dataset. After a few moments, everything was set up and the challenge began.

The Knight just absolutely tears through the majority of what the Cave of Trials had to offer. It took until the bandits showed up for it to take any damage, and it wasn't until the Wasps that the Knight acted more defensively and started using spells. Maki certainly did not expect the little tyke to start shooting screaming balls of dark rage at the targets but no, apparently it's a sorcerer on top of everything else. The only thing that properly challenged the Knight in all of this was the Dead Landers at the end. That battle was certainly a close call. It still defeated them though. By itself. First try.

The Knight accepted the hologram's reward. To it's left was Maki, watching intently and deeply contemplative. Seeing the Knight looking towards him Maki began to speak up, before the Knight put up it's hand, presumably telling him to hold.

The Knight has no ability to express emotively and yet somehow Maki could just feel the smirk as it reached into it's cloak and pulled out some sort of contraption with pink crystals emerging from it. A subtle heartbeat is heard from the device. The Knight offered it to the hologram.

"Scanning memory... over 150 new entries have been added to dataset. Building patterns..."

The Knight healed itself to max. These people are about to learn a lot about Hallownest.

[teecupangel]

Thoughts on Desmond/Aiden Pearce from watch dogs

Well, I happen to like Aiden so I am obligated to say that they would make a good pairing.

Although, Aiden’s path of revenge happened along the time period of Black Flag’s modern day setting (and we’re setting them in the same universe, fuck whatever Ubisoft says) so around 2013.

We can set their meeting as somewhere before 2012 then.

Perhaps during one of his hacking ‘sessions’ with Damien, they got a lot of money and they decided to celebrate in Bad Weathers. That’s where he and Desmond first met and they grew close.

In this one, Desmond and Aiden started dating before 2012 and Desmond became one of the few people Aiden loved.

Now, Aiden and Damien would attempt and fail to hack the Merlaut Hotel on Oct 2012 but… before that…

Desmond disappeared on September 1, 2012.

Maybe Aiden even sees it happening but is unable to save Desmond because Cross jumped on him and knocked him out, only leaving him alive because the order was ‘no bloodshed’.

When Aiden wakes up, the trail had run cold and Aiden spends the entire month trying to find him.

Finally getting a hit… in Italy.

Desmond’s phone was in Italy.

So, before Damien could even pull Aiden to helping him hack Merlaut Hotel…

Aiden had already booked a flight to Italy.

.

On Desmond’s side… having a very techie boyfriend has some upsides.

Like… knowing a trick or two to bypass certain surveillance and security programs embedded in computers and see the good stuffs.

So by the time that he had relived Altaïr’s fourth memory block, Desmond already knew about Project Siren and about Subject 16.

He also knows…

He needs his phone back.

While he can’t fully understand them (hell, the most he understands is that Aiden modified his phone to have apps that lets him hack to other devices connected to the internet or to any other type of connection with really easy UI. Desmond mainly uses it to force the lights to turn red so he can cross), he does know… that phone is the key he needs to get the fuck out of this place.

[relleytrots]

Hey so obviously the clanbooks help flesh out the clans, but which clans do you think benefit the most from their clanbooks? Not necessarily powers, but the flavor. The details.

So this one took me a while, because I had to go back and look at the Revised edition clanbooks and refresh my memory on them. I'm mostly a Revised goblin, although Cappadocians never had a Revised clanbook so I dipped my toes into second there.

Also, for a Clanbook to be good, it has to be helpful in playing the clan, and more interested in that than delivering metaplot. This is why Clanbook Giovanni, though dear to my heart, is Not A Good One, because it's so mired up in shuttering Wraith: the Oblivion and the associated plot events. This is why Clanbook Cappadocian is bad, because it is shot through with "here to go" foreshadowing of the clan's downfall and doesn't do enough on establishing what they did in Cainite society at the height of their power.

Brujah: almost no mechanics, almost all history and perspectives. The Brujah suffer from an identity crisis - rootless between the classical era and the twentieth century, their history really feels like the history of the Anarch tendency, and their customs the heart of the movement as it is tonight. But for sheer detail - giving itself the breathing room to talk about how the Brujah work within their sects and contexts - I think this is one of the good ones despite its lack of substance. Telling that Justin wrote it.

Gangrel: this one locks arms with the Ravnos and walks down history together, embedding two underdeveloped clans in each other. The Gangrel come off better, because they're not starting from "[insert slur here] vampires" as a concept, and because the narrative voice of their book is curious and intelligent and refuses to take anything at face value. The core concept of the Gangrel is "Wolverine with fangs" - I'm being reductive, but "brooding animalistic outsider, bad team player, best there is at snikting all the bubs" - the point is that dragging Gangrel into a coterie with anyone else and making them functional involves dragging them away from what their "clan culture" is all about.

Weirdly, I think this Clanbook does more for the Sabbat Gangrel, simply by running through the Paths and showing how the Gangrel can integrate with them. Bloodlines are mostly stupid, mechanical impact for animal flaws reifies the clan curse in a good way (kinda similar to the contemporary Malkavians). There's a lot here but none of it makes me want to play a Gangrel, for some reason. I suspect it's that the core fantasy isn't really one that interests me, and if I'm going to play that hard against type, I'd rather start from a different base altogether.

Lasombra: the throughline of Lasombra history delivered through a series of in-character lectures is a neat device, foregrounding the contradictions better than usual. Likewise, the detailed depiction of Lasombra Embrace and education protocol and internal factions builds explicitly and confidently on the corebook's limited vision and their role within the Sabbat. The dot by dot breakdown on Obtenebration teaches you how to play one systemically and how to ST around this overtly supernatural Discipline and more of the books need to do that. One of the better suites of premade characters, too (and the Student of the Abyss is a dead ringer for my first girlfriend). It's been a long time but I think this is the book that made me like the Lasombra as a clan rather than a power set and story function.

Also:

Sabbat are not wholly their own masters. No vampire stands altogether free to choose his behavior, thanks to the Beast and the fundamental requirements of vampiric survival. The Sabbat makes matters worse with its beliefs and practices, which repeatedly push participants into acts that erode conscience (and Conscience). When you play a Sabbat vampire, you take on a distinct set of challenges. It’s not necessarily more “adult” or “sophisticated” than any other sort of vampire, nor is it automatically more “juvenile” or “indulgent.” Sabbat exist within tighter boundaries than most independent or Camarilla vampires. Not everything you’d like to have your character do, or that he would plausibly want to do, is actually within reach.

Because some of us really do need telling.

Malkavian: for sheer style, for refuting the kookiness and fae nonsense and artsy layout of the second edition volume, for actually being substantively useful in playing the clan, this one makes the grade. Has one of the best metaplot beats with the antitribu's grand justification for mass Embrace and thinning the blood. New Derangements, better than the ones in the core book if I'm honest, especially the specifically vampiric ones that move away from "playing something straight out of the DSM."

I'm going to mention powers again here though - I wish the Revised devs had caught on to the idea of alternative powers at lower level, as some of this stuff (like Babble) shouldn't have "be seventh generation, i.e. not a starting PC, i.e. probably having done a diablerie to 'level up'" as their prerequisite. Weakest part. Also, I love the Moirai. Favourite brood. Probably sold me on my love of brood coteries.

Nosferatu: I like that a Nosferatu calls out Kindred history on its Eurocentrism! And much like the Gangrel, this book gives you some hooks to hang your clan weakness on - Merits and Flaws that reify aspects of the Nosferatu aesthetic. I don't think these are all necessary, but they are cool. A similar breakdown of Discipline usage to the Lasombra, again showing and telling how to Nosferatu as well as what is Nosferatu. That's the distinction with the good Clanbooks, I think - they remain focused on playability and using these ideas rather than just telling you about cool shit. I want to play a Nosferatu after I've read this book.

Dishonourable mention: Tremere. The Tremere Clanbook doubles down on a central bugaboo with the clan - if their hierarchy is sevens and sevens and sevens all the way down, your city should be crawling with Tremere. To have all these internal agendas and subfactions represented in a meaningful way - same. I'm aware of Grician bias, I hate the 1:100,000 "rule" with the force and fire of a thousand suns, but this book really needed to show you how one or two isolated Tremere work and it fails to deliver.

Tzimisce: I don't like how overcooked this clan is, with its Koldunic Sorcery and its Old Clan and its revenant families and its two different versions of "your signature discipline is a disease" that are both high concept shit far removed from Playing Your Lil' Guy - but that material undeniably exists and if you want to refer to it... well, isn't half of it in the Sabbat guide? I don't know where I stand on this one, but Tzimisce fans generally want as much as possible to chew on and there's More In Here.

Ventrue: Much like the Brujah and the anarchs, a lot of what the Ventrue have going on under the hood can be read "as above, so below" with the Camarilla as a sect. To know one is to half understand the other. The Ventrue codify the unwritten social rules of their sect, or rather their sect unknowingly imitates the code that organises the Ventrue.

The difference, as ever, is that the conservative and hierarchical side of the coin is much easier to detail than "imagine your way out of authoritarianism", and as such Clanbook: Ventrue has a great deal more direct, didactic, actionable material in it than the broad and vague concepts of the Rabble. Titles, organisation, spheres of influence, clear lines through the medieval to the corporate: read this one.

There is more to the Ventrue than you ever imagined - so much that they almost fall into the same hole as the Tremere do, but they don't have the hard number for the brain to latch onto and worry at. Even now, I'm describing this very good and self contained Clanbook by comparison to its peers - that's how the Ventrue get away with it.

I'm not just saying this to blow smoke up @biomechanicaltomato's ass, either. It's genuinely one of the best books; I think only Lasombra and perhaps Gangrel and Nosferatu are on the same level, and in very different ways.

[lumilasi]

Spooktober day 10: Haunted House (+ Ava & Roman's apartment)

Finally, after 3 days I'm finished with this one. I decided to still keep this as a spooktober prompt as well, but the bottom one is the "canonical" look/vibe for this place. (I know the perspectives are all out of wack, never tried to make this look realistic lol)

Below, I've listed more info for the actual home of my main gal and her BF:

Living room & hallway:

They have a special house-phone at the end of the entrance hallway which is common in their world. This one is something you can use to also make calls in into the human realm, when compared to Ether-style cellphones. These are typically powered by special spacial crystals. (Ether's energy source is these crystals, rather than electricity, you won't see electricity sockets anywhere as a result)

The glowing wall decor is an actual vine plant, not LED lights. They are common decorative item among fae folk like Ava, a special plant that once harvested can survive up to 5-10 years by absorbing magic particles from the air. The glow is a side effect of this process and the color changes depending on the seasons. (Winter = white, Spring = light green, Summer = warm orange red, Fall = Yellow)

They typically dine at the window seat table. Ava used to eat at the small half-circle one in her kitchen when she lived alone, but they decided to get a bigger table when Roman moved in, and placed it in the living room as it was more spacious.

Bedroom

The wardobe facing the bed is a common enchanted one, where it is bigger on the inside and functions more like a closet. These are common ways to solve storage problems in Ether.

the window seat is one of Ava's favorite places to drink her coffee or tea during early mornings.

The Dr. Who policebox wardrobe has a mirror on the door, (Couldn't make it visible from this angle) which sometimes spooks Roman when he's waking up very dazed and groggy.

Bathroom

Ava and Roman have a very typical Washing-drum for their clothes. It is not earth-like washing machine, but a wooden rectangular drum (can also be circular) with special water and heat producing crystals at the bottom. This magic device both washes and dries clothes. The crystal turns from red to green once its done.

The small red and yellow mat in front of the sink was Roman's contribution, Ava asked him to pick one (she doesn't mind it clashes with the rest of the bathroom colors, Ava finds it charming)

Kitchen

The entire kitchen was redesigned by Roman, after Ava gave him permission to decide on it since she was planning on changing it up anyway. (She did this as their first anniversary gift, wanting to have him feel more at home in her place by contributing something more major to how it looks)

The place was designed to somewhat mimic Roman's childhood kitchen, as one of his fondest early memories was watching his late mama cook there.

Like the washer, dishwasher is also Ether-styled, another magic barrel embedded into the cabinets, this one has a circular rack to pull up and place the dirty dishes on.

Library/Study

This room hasn't changed much from the time this apartment was occupied by Ava's uncle, Alois. The only thing she added was the pillow pile/fluffy blanket for Roman to snooze on when he is in his hound form.

The study table spot also has a mirror that can be covered with doors; Ava often does her make up here to leave the bathroom free for Roman to use.

More fun facts

The apartment is at the corner of an U-shaped building, and the way to access the apartments in this building is an outdoor balcony pathway instead of an indoor corridor.

There is a front yard park of sorts in the middle of the U-shape, that also includes a special patio area for hanging out. Ava sometimes uses it for a small gathering or a party with her friends during summer, as the area can be sound proofed with magic, to not bother other neighbors.

The back windows of the apartments face a large park; Ava's workplace - Night City tattoo parlor - is almost right across from it, so she often shortcuts through the park to get to work. The side windows face the next similar building and a street. Front windows naturally face the inner yard.

Yoruga, Roman's coworker, lives in the same apartment building, just at the opposite side, and at the end of the U arm. (His apartment is also smaller, a two-room instead of three rooms)

[scribble-dribble-writes]

Plastic Hearts - (20)

<<<Prev Next>>>

---

Ken is a lover boy like no other, I NEED HIM 😭

---

The lights were out, from the small skylights embedded above, moonlight filtered in and while everyone around you slept soundlessly, you couldn’t.

He was going to leave the moment there was a hint of orange in the sky.

You were both given separate tents to stay in, so you gathered up your blanket and slipped out in search of him.

Your bare feet slipped past quietly on the cold flooring and instinct was your only guide. But catching a little sticker of a horse on the side of a tent only made you smile. He knew you too well. You pushed past the flap to enter and got a glimpse of him, lying on the makeshift bed, his torso devoid of a shirt but his eyes were on you even in this dim light.

You placed a finger over your lips as you got closer and he made space in his double bed for you as he grinned.

“Do you always sneak into random tents in the dead of night?”, he whispered.

“Only for you.”, you cuddled closer into his body warmth and heard his amused chuckle at your response.

“Good.”, he said quietly. There was no trace of plastic in him anymore, he was as human as you were. And so it gave you some relief. It could be possible that the magic of this land was immune to you both, since you both had made a wish in the tunnel.

But before you can ask him anything or begin to worry he lowered his head to catch your lips with his in the silence, your breath hitched in your throat but your body turned into clay as your wrapped your hands around his neck, such that where ever his hands roamed you were sure they had moulded a part of you.

“I don’t want to think about tomorrow.”, he spoke against your lips as his finger trace the curve of your cheek.

“Then don’t.”, you smiled softly as you slipped your hand beneath his arm, tucking your head under his chin. Maybe this way, you could both sleep .

His sighed with content, his hand mindlessly tracing up the curve of your hips under your shirt as though it was helping him remember that you were by his side. That you were real.

He pretended to sleep, because his mind didn’t seem to rest. He held you closer and gazed at your sleeping form next to him. The very sight of you caused him to feel joy bloom in his chest.

Was it possible to rewind time?

To have skipped all this by just choosing you in the first place?

But then the days in the real world reminded him that as painful as this was, he had felt like he was more than just the secondary character. He had a story of his own and the most beautiful part was, it intertwined with yours.

He dipped his head to kiss your forehead, as if he wanted the exact memory and feeling etched in his mind for ever. He wasn’t willing to accept but seeing those frozen Barbies, his friends. It has freaked him out.

He kissed you again.

He didn’t want to forget or fade. He wanted to live. He couldn’t care anymore about what was said in the tunnel, that he didn’t have a life of his own without a Barbie.

He wanted to make his own.

He wanted you.

So that was enough hope, to be brave.

But in the quiet, his thoughts could kept going back to his conversation with weird Barbie before he retired to his tent.

“You do know only the one who wore the skates gets a true wish.”, she told him as she passed him his new set of clothes, gear that will prepare him to enter the rocky pass.

“I didn’t know.”, he said taking in her words. He had made one of his own, in the tunnel but to learn that it was useless was disheartening. So it wasn’t the wish that had led him back to you.

“Now, if you find the lake. Use this to extract the water, don’t by any chance touch it.”, she instructed him as she handed a container that was attached within a suction device.

“I thought I would be immune to it. I’m not solely a part of Barbieland anymore.”, he held the device in his hands but his eyes were distant.

“But without a true wish, you will always revert back to who you are, Ken.”, she raised her eyebrows as a means to tell him more plainly.

Why was it that he needed magic to give him the allowance to enjoy his life?

So destiny had seemed to be writing you and him apart every moment, trapping him in the illusion that he was making progress towards the life of his dreams when he wasn't.

You stirred in his arms and he realized that he was wasting every second with you if he was worried about events that were out of his control.

He breathed in deeply, the scent of your perfume taking him back to his apartment, the night he had held you by his side through the night.

There has to be something special if he was afforded those moments. Right?

That all this talk of him being just an add on and that’s all he could ever be, must be a lie, shouldn’t it?

“You haven’t slept have you?”, he heard you ask and he sighed.

“No.”, he replied.

He watched as you pulled the blanket over him a little more and caressed his cheek even as you laid next to him half asleep with your eyes closed. It amazed him, at how you didn’t need to see him in order to know what he needed or how he felt. You just knew. Just like he had when he put that sticker on the side of his tent.

He pushed away a strand of hair that fell across your face, almost as if your were a manifestation of the magic in this land he had been so fortunate enough to hold you. So privileged enough to touch. If a part of your souls had found it’s home in each other, if all the moments with you eased the turmoil in his spirit.

Then, you and him were meant for each other, that no spell or written stereotype could hold you back.

“I’m going to figure out that map and get us out of here.”, he said with new found zeal.

“I know you will.”, you reassured him, your eyes finding his.

“I won’t leave your side till you do.”, you tucked your head over his arm and there was nothing more to contend with that he could finally rest now.

“I’m going to hold you to it.”, he kissed the top of your head as he mumbled the words into your hair.

It was amazing, how you could still find peace in the chaos with him by your side.

His warmth kept you company through the cold night till when you woke up feeling the chill creep up your skin only to find the space beside you empty.

A written note with scribbled handwriting was placed on the pillow by your side.

“Will be back by sunset. Get ready to go home.”

All this was going to be over.

You breathed a sight of relief.

---

Tags:

@imogen-skye @ateliefloresdaprimavera @meowkid1000 @jokersgrf @linacool13 @oh-kurva @dreamsarenicer @memospacexx @haleysucks00 @babyimjustken @tempobaekh @fallingwallsh @whatafreakingloser @lcversrockk @imonmyvigilanteshh @constellationscharts @eddiemunson4ever @freyafriggafrey @neptunelixir @iamruiningmylife @floralsightings @ynbutbetter @lazyboikat @mrharringtonsbae @spookyscellar @harleyquinn03041998 @haydensith @thatgirljas13 @weasleytwinscumslut @kensthetic @itstylersblog @papichulo120627 @lee-lee-23 @dazeglitter-blog @urmom24sworld @chaos-in-person @aremos @theoriginalwife000 @undercover-being-whack @puredreamagination @h-l-vlovesvintage @krazyk99 @agustdeeyaa @bluebear19 @porterport @urahara24 @wvndamaximilf @berlinswifey @suzirumas @faustlyaccused @rennydenny @paintmekala @leafyturtle @lafy-taffy @blossomingrose @dark-hunter16

[brittlepathfinderhaven]

From Chips to Clouds: Exploring Intel's Role in the Next Generation of Computing

Introduction

The world of computing is evolving at breakneck speed, and at the forefront of this technological revolution is Intel Corp. Renowned for its groundbreaking innovations in Additional hints microprocessors, Intel's influence extends far beyond silicon chips; it reaches into the realms of artificial intelligence, cloud computing, and beyond. This article dives deep into Intel's role in shaping the next generation of computing, exploring everything from its historical contributions to its futuristic visions.

From Chips to Clouds: Exploring Intel's Role in the Next Generation of Computing

Intel has long been synonymous with computing power. Founded in 1968, it pioneered the microprocessor revolution that transformed personal computing. Today, as we transition from conventional machines to cloud-based systems powered by artificial intelligence and machine learning, Intel remains a critical player.

The Evolution of Intel’s Microprocessors A Brief History

Intel's journey began with the introduction of the first commercially available microprocessor, the 4004, in 1971. Over decades, it has relentlessly innovated:

1970s: Introduction of the 8086 architecture. 1980s: The rise of x86 compatibility. 1990s: Pentium processors that made personal computers widely accessible.

Each evolution marked a leap forward not just for Intel but for global computing capabilities.

Current Microprocessor Technologies

Today’s microprocessors are marvels of engineering. Intel’s current lineup features:

Core i3/i5/i7/i9: Catering to everything from basic tasks to high-end gaming. Xeon Processors: Designed for servers and high-performance computing. Atom Processors: Targeting mobile devices and embedded applications.

These technologies are designed with advanced architectures like Ice Lake and Tiger Lake that enhance performance while optimizing power consumption.

Intel’s Influence on Cloud Computing The Shift to Cloud-Based Solutions

In recent years, businesses have increasingly embraced cloud computing due to its scalability, flexibility, and cost-effectiveness. Intel has played a crucial role in this transition by designing processors optimized for data centers.

Intel’s Data Center Solutions

Intel provides various solutions tailored for cloud service providers:

Intel Xeon Scalable Processors: Designed specifically for workloads in data centers. Intel Optane Technology: Enhancing memory performance and storage capabilities.

These innovations help companies manage vast amounts of data efficiently.

Artificial Intelligence: A New Frontier AI Integration in Everyday Applications

Artificial Intelligence (AI) is becoming integral to modern computing. From smart assistants to advanced analytics tools, AI relies heavily on processing power—something that Intel excels at providing.

Intel’s AI Initiatives

Through initiat

[jollystrangernymph]

From Chips to Clouds: Exploring Intel's Role in the Next Generation of Computing

Introduction

The world of computing is evolving at breakneck speed, and at the forefront of this technological revolution is Intel Corp. Renowned for its groundbreaking innovations in microprocessors, Intel's influence extends far beyond silicon chips; it reaches into the realms of artificial intelligence, cloud computing, and beyond. This article dives deep into Intel's role in shaping the next generation of computing, exploring everything from its historical contributions to its futuristic visions.

From Chips to Clouds: Exploring Intel's Role in the Next Generation of Computing

Intel has long been synonymous with computing power. Founded in 1968, it pioneered the microprocessor revolution that transformed personal computing. Today, as we transition from conventional machines to cloud-based systems powered by artificial intelligence and machine learning, Intel remains a critical player.

The Evolution of Intel’s Microprocessors A Brief History

Intel's journey began with the introduction of the first commercially available microprocessor, the 4004, in 1971. Over decades, it has relentlessly innovated:

1970s: Introduction of the 8086 architecture. 1980s: The rise of x86 compatibility. 1990s: Pentium processors that made personal computers widely accessible.

Each evolution marked a leap forward not just for Intel but for global computing capabilities.

Current Microprocessor Technologies

Today’s microprocessors are marvels of engineering. Intel’s current lineup features:

Core i3/i5/i7/i9: Catering to everything from basic tasks to high-end gaming. Xeon Processors: Designed for servers and high-performance computing. Atom Processors: Targeting mobile devices and embedded applications.

These technologies are designed with advanced architectures like Ice Lake and Tiger Lake that enhance performance while optimizing power consumption.

Click for more info Intel’s Influence on Cloud Computing The Shift to Cloud-Based Solutions

In recent years, businesses have increasingly embraced cloud computing due to its scalability, flexibility, and cost-effectiveness. Intel has played a crucial role in this transition by designing processors optimized for data centers.

Intel’s Data Center Solutions

Intel provides various solutions tailored for cloud service providers:

Intel Xeon Scalable Processors: Designed specifically for workloads in data centers. Intel Optane Technology: Enhancing memory performance and storage capabilities.

These innovations help companies manage vast amounts of data efficiently.

Artificial Intelligence: A New Frontier AI Integration in Everyday Applications

Artificial Intelligence (AI) is becoming integral to modern computing. From smart assistants to advanced analytics tools, AI relies heavily on processing power—something that Intel excels at providing.

Intel’s AI Initiatives

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