#spaceship deck plan

[windydrawallday]

Sometimes I can't illustrate/doodle scenes for RPs but- instead, I do items or graphics like this!

A minimalistic Deck Plan of Lockdown's Death's Head spaceship (at least, an attempt at a first floor) for a Rescue Mission assigned to Swindle (who's being accompanied by Locker's cyberhyenas)... because the bounty hunter messed with an invasion of space barnacles and ended cornered by it 🔥

[elbiotipo]

Was reading the Spelljammer 5e manual and I'm always a bit amused at how ship plans in RPGs are always so concerned with giving each crewmember their personal cabin and personal space with a door you can close.

In reality, sailing ships (and Spelljammer ships are basically sailing ships that can go into SPACE) didn't have "crew quarters". You slept on hammocks on the cargo deck or laid some matresses on the deck. Even modern navy ships have double bunk quarters, space and privacy just isn't a thing at sea. After all, the purpose of a ship is to deliver cargo or to do war. And there are TONS of supplies needed to keep a crew fed that take a lot of space besides those. The crew itself isn't a concern, they get sleep wherever they can.

This also applies to future spaceships. Atomic Rockets has talked about this better than me but most of a spaceship is propulsion with a little thing at the top where the payload (that is all that matters) go. And the payload needs to be as small as possible because every little increase on it means also increasing the propulsion (the tirany of the rocket equation). You won't get carpeted floors, personal cabins and wide hallways like in the USS Enterprise. The closest thing to the acommodations on a spaceship would look like current submarines, and crewmembers sometimes have to sleep over torpedos to keep space.

I don't say that a setting with magical sailing ships that can travel through the crystal spheres has to be realistic but it's always worth taking a look at how historical ships worked. Your party won't have personal cabins, more like an hammock and a personal chest if they're lucky.

[inquisitornocturn]

◇ Inter Stellas Inveniam Te ◇

◇◇◇ Chapter V - Tuus Sum

⚜ 𝖕𝖆𝖎𝖗𝖎𝖓𝖌: Xavier Calcazar/Volenta Calcazar (OC)/Heinrix van Calox

⚜ 𝖙𝖆𝖌𝖘: Overall story rating - E. Overall tags - romance, disaster polycule. This chapter - smut, blowjob, deepthroating, cum swallowing, cunnilingus, PiV, creampie, existential dread.

⚜ 𝖘𝖙𝖔𝖗𝖞 𝖘𝖚𝖒𝖒𝖆𝖗𝖞: Even the most powerful have their weaknesses. Volenta has more than a few of her own. One such weakness being her husband. Another - her love for toying with others. Her station permits it, but it doesn't come without consequences, because Lady Inquisitor soon finds herself entangled with another man. And she doesn't know just what events will unfold when the man she's married to gets assigned to look over the Koronus Expanse.

In the 41st millennium, there's only war. Be it on surfaces of planets, on the decks of spaceships or… in personal lives. And those battles are not easily won.

⚜ 𝖈𝖍𝖆𝖕𝖙𝖊𝖗 𝖘𝖚𝖒𝖒𝖆𝖗𝖞: Having dinner together doesn't happen often, but both Volenta and Xavier enjoy them when they do. Except his wife has a confession to make. And next day she accepts realization of something that the woman tried not to think of. Same as Heinrix, who is suddenly startled into his own sobering realization of who he has been sleeping with.

⚜ 𝖜𝖔𝖗𝖉 𝖈𝖔𝖚𝖓𝖙: 10,751 | AO3 | Chapter navigation

⚜ 𝖆/𝖓: I didn't plan to post this chapter this week, but I needed something to cheer myself up a little so I'm posting "early". Due to that, the editing might be not the greatest here, but considering this is a hobby of mine and not something I'm aiming to publish, I am willing to be kind to myself and post anyway. That said, enjoy the drama♡

No servant is present to interrupt the dinner. They served their masters already and are in waiting in case one of them calls to be tended to. To refill their glasses or to bring out something else that they may wish for. But for now, it’s just the two of them. Volenta and Xavier. Sharing a meal which they so rarely get to do.

“So, when are you going back?” She asks with eyes on a plate, fork and knife in her slender fingers, cutting at the delicate meat drizzled with sauce.

Xavier just sighs, also cutting a piece of his dish, same one she’s having ,and briefly glances at his wife. She’s not wearing her uniform tonight, but neither is he. Yet her open, loose black shirt drapes gently over Volenta’s chest, upon which the rosette rests, as much part of her as the wedding ring on her left hand, paired with the ring of the Inquisition. He knows it to be a needle gun, loaded with toxin and somewhere there is irony, but Xavier does not linger on the thought.

“Not an answer I can give with full confidence.” He admits and pauses before placing a bite into his mouth, rising eyes to the woman at his side. The table they are dining at is long, fit to seat at least forty people, but Volenta is by his side, on the left to where Xavier sits, at the end of the table and in an intricate chair that is meant to show his status as the head of this household.

Volenta looks at him, chewing slowly and shrugs, swallowing the bite. “Then give me an approximation.”

“A week at best. At worst, I will be sent back tomorrow. There’s no way to tell.” He places another bite of meat in his mouth and watches Volenta abandon her cutlery in favor of taking a glass of white, chilled wine.

“Have you been given orders yet?” She asks but does not look at him and at that Xavier frowns with uncertainty. He senses that something is behind these questions. More than just her desire for them to spend time together.

“No, not yet. But I assume I will go back to Koronus, of course.” Another bite and he waits for Volenta to lower the glass from her lips and speak. She does so but it looks like Volenta is bidding for time.

However, she does not want to delay the inevitable for too long. So instead of letting them sit in strange silence, she sighs and puts away the glass, then picks up the fork and knife, resuming to partake in the meal.

“Lords of Terra want you to form a Conclave in Koronus.” The way she speaks the words makes them sound calm, but Xavier notices her reluctance to look at him.

“I expected as much.”

“You really do not sound surprised.”

“Why would I? Me and other inquisitors have been working as a warband already, but it’s simply not enough. That’s precisely what I reported to Raphael as well. Is it really that shocking that it’s finally acknowledged that Koronus Expanse needs heavier presence of the Holy Ordos?” Giving a glance to Volenta, Xavier finally notices that she has finally looked at him.

“Not that.” She says, cutlery still in her hands and the dish half ate. “That you would be assigned to lead it. Inquisitor Lord.” A wry smile etches itself on a beautifully pale face, making it look more vicious than it usually appears.

“It’s less of a promotion and more of a punishment, Volenta.” Xavier says and sighs, leaning back in the chair and putting his own cutlery down. Grabbing the nearby glass of wine that was poured for him, the man takes a sip, washing down the savory flavors from his tongue.

“You don’t truly believe that.” Shaking her head, Volenta lowers her eyes back to the plate and resumes eating.

“I’m inclined to think that it might be true.” He scoffs and looks at the wine in his hand, the crystal of the glass wet with condensation. “Some backend of the Imperium that would benefit more to be purged with holy fire rather than spending resources that could be better used somewhere else.”

She listens to him and says nothing. What Lords of Terra implied resurface in Volenta’s memory, the idea that they suspect her husband of straying from the Imperial morals firing a flame of rage within her soul. She wants to tell him, but she won’t. Because if the suspicions are not baseless gibberish which she desperately wants them to be – then she needs to be an agent of the Holy Throne first, and a wife second.

Observe, track, interrogate.

“Maybe so.” Volenta pauses to eat and Xavier allows her that moment of quiet until she speaks again. “But if you can bring more planets and people to the embrace of the Emperor, then I wouldn’t say it’s a lost cause. Maybe it’s a tedious work, but we need manpower to worship him with our deeds.” Again she looks at him and Xavier sees religious fervor burning in Volenta’s eyes. “I don’t propose mercy, dear, if you even think me having developed such flaw in your absence. No, I speak of the simple truth that even criminals and heretics can be used for His glory. Some machines need to be fed blood and flesh. I’m simply reminding you of that.”

Stunned, Xavier just takes another sip from his glass, not sure what to even say. He’s a man of faith too, but sometimes Volenta’s own leaves him speechless. It doesn’t surprise him, not per se, but sometimes he forgets just how fiercely his wife loves the Emperor. She even still carries that faded icon of the Master of Mankind. One that she had with her on a day Xavier watched Volenta pack her meager belongings.

It was the day he recruited her. Or rather, just decided to take the wide-eyed soldier with too much eagerness on her face as a possible acolyte. Volenta was wearing dead man’s uniform and the helmet was far too big, slipping over her eyes. But she looked at him in utter awe then and he couldn’t resist wanting to exploit the loyalty that was given to him on a silver platter. Part of a mixed unit, Xavier even then understood the reason for Volenta’s bound chest, that was impossible not to notice when he stood before her. But the real surprise was when he took off her helmet after becoming irritated how it kept misbehaving. The avalanche of long, white hair, put in a messy and dirty braid, slid from under it and took his breath away.

He couldn’t leave her there.

So Xavier decided to take this young woman under his wing and urged her to pack what she had. Which was pitifully little. A small, worn pouch Volenta stuffed with just one set of underwear and socks. And then the icon of the Emperor joined what even the most downtrodden would look down upon with compassion. It was tattered and had a prayer on a back, which Volenta couldn’t even read, being illiterate. He learned that later, but at the time the sight of this woman who was not quite yet done being a child, clad in bloody, filthy clothes that still bore a man’s name, made Xavier feel like he was the Emperor Himself, saving this pour, faithful soul from a promise of early death.

He wonders, as he watches Volenta methodically finish her meal, if she has that icon on her right now. And what a contrast sits by his side. The image in his memory being replaced by the woman who rose so high that not even Xavier could’ve predicted it. Emperor’s providence, he can’t explain it in any other way.

The scrape of Volenta’s stiletto heel over the tiles beneath the table makes Xavier remember that she’s probably waiting for an answer and he takes another sip of wine, then clears his throat. “I understand perfectly what you mean. But I will also remind you that some segments are beyond even His light, Volenta. Do you not have faith in me that I will do the job that is asked of me? That my judgement won’t be just?”

There’s a warning in Xavier’s voice and Volenta pauses while reaching for her own glass of wine, but only for a moment, and drinks from it before answering. “I do trust you, Xavier. Of course I do.” And when she looks at him, Volenta smiles with eyes full of adoration. A salve that softens his heart in an instant.

Reaching over the table, Xavier takes her right hand in his augmetic fingers and gives a careful squeeze of reassurance. “I agree with you. That it’s an opportunity to make use of the Koronus Expanse and I won’t be rash to condemn the sector into oblivion and void.”

She laughs at this, the sound delightful and Xavier rises his eyebrows with a smile emerging on his own face. “You can’t do that quite yet even if you wished so. You just have gotten promoted.” Volenta says and empties her glass at which Xavier just sighs, dramatically so, feigning annoyance.

“That smart mouth of yours can be used in different ways instead of talking back at me.”

“Speaking of that-“ Volenta slips her hand out of Xavier’s grasp and reaches over the plates to take bottle of wine from where it’s nestling in a gold bucket filled with ice.

When she doesn’t continue, Xavier raps his mechanical fingers over the table top. “Yes?”

And yet she still doesn’t answer, refilling his glass first, then hers. The bottle returns to the bucket and Volenta leans back in her chair, almost mimicking Xavier’s own pose, and her shirt opens a little wider, showing an edge of black lace over her left breast.

Taking a drink, Volenta locks her eyes on Xavier’s and hesitates just for a moment before finally speaking. “I slept with Heinrix.”

At first Xavier doesn’t even comprehend what he just heard. He stares at his wife, her calm eyes waiting for his reaction which he knows she can already predict. And then the words sink in, unfolding like poisonous flower, spreading toxins that begin coursing in Xavier’s veins immediately.

Without thinking, he rises a mechanical fist and slams in onto the table, making every single item on it jump. All that were standing, glasses and pitchers, tumble down. Some roll off the edge of the desk and shatter onto the tiles below. Only the bucket with ice and the wine bottle escapes similar fate. Despite Xavier’s sudden anger, he still didn’t bring full power to his augmetic arm.

“How in the Emperor’s name it happened!” He shouts but Volenta doesn’t flinch, knowing this was coming. Just this morning he said he will consider her possible entanglement with his right-hand man and she went ahead and got fucked by him before the decision was even made.

“It’s…” Sighing, Volenta takes another sip. Despite her outward calm appearance, her throat still dried the moment Xavier’s fist connected with the ancient wood. Running a hand over her loose white locks, the woman manages a shrug.

“Volenta.” Xavier frowns deeply, a sight that rattles even her, but she remains steadfast in keeping her composure. “You broke our agreement.” He’s not shouting and that’s what makes Xavier’s words sound like an unsheathed blade.

But this flares up the flame of defiance in her and she frowns at him in return. “What, you think I just went out today and thought to myself – what a glorious day to compromise my marriage?!”

“STOP!” He shouts again and Volenta’s frown deepens to an edge that is usually reserved for enemies, but Xavier is also unshaken by the confrontational attitude that his wife is displaying. “I asked you how that happened. And-“ he stops her the moment Xavier sees her lips part in an upcoming attempt to argue with him. “-don’t shrug at me again like some misbehaving juvie. Volenta, you are my wife and you will answer me.”

And whilst Xavier doesn’t hear it or see her lips move, he knows that in her mind Volenta is grumbling at him like a feral cat who got a toy taken away. She shifts in her seat a little, then drinks from the glass and Xavier puts down his own, realizing he currently lost taste for the wine.

“He found me. Came to apologize. We argued.” Of course they did. “And then it just happened.”

“So he apologized by fucking you, that’s what you’re telling me?” Xavier says much harsher than he wanted to and the words he has picked are not how he usually speaks, but in moments of heated exchange with his wife, Xavier tends to lean towards to how Volenta herself speaks, for better or worse.

“No!” She pauses, trying to calm her frustration but it snaps and Volenta throws her glass across the room where it shatters against the wall.

Legs of the chair hiss when Volenta suddenly stands but Xavier grabs her wrist and squeezes hard enough to make the woman wince with pain. “Why did you let him. Because God-Emperor sees I know you didn’t suddenly crawl into his lap like a whore. I know you.”

Volenta tugs at her arm, trying to free it but the mechanical handcuff that Xavier’s fingers have become do not budge and she snarls. “Does it matter? Or do you just want to yell at me for more reasons than one?”

“Of course it matters, Volenta!” He shouts again and she scalds him with a furious glare, trying to pull her hand away.

“Fucking fine! If you wish to know so badly, fine!” Yet she still tries to free herself and Xavier tightens the grip even further, making Volenta let out an agonized whine. Her eyes narrow at the pain but she finally stops struggling. “I don’t…” She swallows. “I don’t really know, alright? It’s just…” Words drift off while Volenta thinks of how to express why it happened.

Xavier is not immune to the anguished face of a woman he loves, but he has to know. He has to know if suddenly she…

He doesn’t let his mind finish the thought. Refuses to let it happen. He shouldn’t be afraid and yet here he is, hurting Volenta in a desperate need to be assured that his worst fears have not come to be.

“It felt like it does with you.” Volenta says so quietly Xavier nearly misses it and his attention focuses back on her, on her face still twisted in pain. “It was like that, but at the same time different. It’s… I don’t know how to explain it.”

And it’s the truth, or at least half of it. Volenta, just like Xavier, doesn’t allow certain thoughts to permeate her confession, because she does not want to think those thoughts, to wonder that maybe she and Heinrix were walking towards this outcome for many years now. Whether knowingly or not, it doesn’t matter and she does not want to think of it, not right now.

Xavier lets out a low, strained sigh and eases the grip of his augmetic fingers, watching Volenta’s face smoothen out from signs of pain. And when she rises her eyes back to him, Xavier clenches his jaw, but gives into the desire to feel her close.

With a sharp yank he tugs Volenta towards him and easily sweeps her into his lap, nearly smiling at his wife’s big wide eyes that betray surprise. He can’t do that yet, first he needs to scold her. Again.

At a sound of Volenta’s high-heel falling off her foot, Xavier sighs again and grips her chin with his fingers, making sure that she won’t look away. “Listen to me, my dear, and listen very carefully. I don’t want you doing this again.”

“But-“

“Not at least while I am here to satisfy your needs. Do you understand?”

Volenta stares at Xavier, saying nothing just breathing quietly and blinking couple times like an animal caught in front of the gun barrels. He shouldn’t permit this, he does not want to permit this, but Xavier can’t punish Volenta either. What she said, how Heinrix reminded her of him, it strung a cord in just how much Volenta loves him, to the point that even when she’s at his side she still craves, starved by their infrequent unions.

In truth, Xavier would prefer that she has chosen any other man than Heinrix, but if that’s who his wife finds solace in… Well, not even Xavier can deny that to her. After all, it’s his fault. He should not have made her an inquisitor if he wanted her eyes only on himself. He should’ve kept Volenta with him at all times, taking her with him anywhere he went. But no, he wanted her to excel, to serve, to become a perfect soldier because his love for the Imperium was stronger than his love for her. That was long ago, but it still is his fault that Volenta feels neglected, even if she will never utter such words to Xavier.

“Are you going to punish him?” She whispers at last and Xavier lets out yet another heavy sigh, considering whether he should or not, but then brushes the pad of his thumb over her bottom lip, sweeping his gaze over the beloved features.

“No. If you’re truthful and he made you think of me – then how can I blame Van Calox for wanting the same things.”

“Things?!” Volenta pouts immediately and he chuckles, pressing his forehead against hers even when Volenta tries to remove her chin from his grasping fingers.

“Stop being so petulant, Volenta. You know perfectly what I have meant.” He whispers and before she can respond, Xavier kisses her, letting the barrage of murmurs become silenced against his lips.

She pushes at him, childish in her tantrum but no less loveable, and Xavier wraps both arms around her, squishing Volenta tightly against his chest until she has no room to struggle anymore. At being subdued, Volenta finally relents and kisses him back. Reluctant at first, still unjustly annoyed at her husband, but she feels his heartbeat under her palm where it’s pressed against Xavier’s chest, the layer of coat and shirt muting the sensation only slightly. She feels it and whatever desire she has to keep being irritated begins to melt away almost immediately.

Leaning into the kiss, Volenta becomes his pliant, loving wife again and Xavier pulls back, rising a hand to stroke the side of her face, eyes following the path of her scar. “You’re not going to listen to me, are you?” The tone of voice is deep and strict, but the smile betrays Xavier’s inability to actually deny he.

She fawns her dark eyelashes in turn, acting out an innocent maiden and he chuckles, unable to help himself. “Who? Me? No, Inquisitor Lord, I would never! That’s preposterous to even suggest!” Faking even the grating, squeaky voice of many noble women, Volenta clearly is her usual self again and Xavier can’t help but roll his eyes.

“Stop that, you know I despise when you talk like this.” Yet the sound of his new title is pleasant, even if said in a voice that is grating in its falseness.

“Fine, fine.” She chuckles and nuzzles her face against the side of Xavier’s neck, planting slow, gentle kisses beneath his jaw. “So you’re not mad anymore?”

“I am.”

“Liar.”

With a tired sigh that is no less than an act akin to the one Volenta put on just now, Xavier just moves one hand to his wife’s rear and gives it a squeeze. “Lying to the Inquisition is heresy. Are you calling me a heretic, my love?” Volenta chuckles again and gives Xavier’s neck a bite which makes him hiss at the unexpectedness of it.

“Only when you ask me very nicely.”

──────────────────────────────────────────

Volenta grunts when she rises from her chair. For the entirety of today she feels sore after Xavier decided that to show to whom she belongs to, he needs to have her at least in seven different ways. In truth - she lost count. They fell asleep at dawn and this morning she had to drag herself to work with almost every muscle in her body aching.

But now she got a vox message, sent to her through a private channel that not many agents have access to. Someone wants to meet her and, due to her job involving secrets upon secrets, it’s not like such a message is a rarity or the one Volenta would refuse. Could be something important. Or someone.

The location given is in the building. One of the conference halls that she is pretty sure is empty at this time. But before Volenta departs her office, she empties her glass of rich amesac and pressing palms to her lower back the woman stretches with another grunt.

Damn it, Xavier, you just had to prove your point like a territorial beast.

Despite the disgruntled thought, Volenta smiles and shakes her head a little. And the discomfort is just Xavier’s testimony to her, of his love. A promise, an oath, which she accepts gladly. It’s been a while since he left her in such a state, that walking itself is not without effort, but it feels good too. And when she makes first steps towards the door, Volenta sighs but soon the muscles adjust to her movement and the aches turn from agonizing throbbing to a dull tension.

Outside, the two agents who have been following Volenta around like lost puppies immediately jump to greet her, but she just waves her hand at them. “No need to accompany me this time. Go take a break.”

Not waiting for a reply and not even looking at them, the woman passes the men with her cloak gently billowing behind her from the urgency with which she wants to escape their eager, yet restricting presence. They are keen to serve, but she never liked bootlickers and their wide-eyed enthusiasm is already grating on the Inquisitor’s nerves every time she has to put them to work. But for now, she is free of them.

Navigating the corridors is easy and as always, Volenta doesn’t pay attention to reactions of others. Most bow their heads in fear of her presence, but there are always some that think defiance is a charming trait to have. Still, nobody dares to bother her and so she takes the lift to the lower floors of the building. With her office being almost at the very top, such trips are a daily life for her, unless she’s not doing her duties on Terra. And she’s been here for a while now. Which makes her think that soon, most likely, this too will come to an end.

With those thoughts on her mind, and many other burning in the background of her brain, Volenta stops by the conference hall door and looks around. No one’s here and the corridors are empty, but despite this being the building of the Inquisition headquarters, she still moves a hand over her plasma pistol, popping the clip open. Only when she feels ready for a possible attack is when Volenta presses a gloved hand over the scanner, needing to wait only a second before it beeps and the doors part vertically, letting her enter.

Inside it is as empty as it is outside, but the chandeliers with crackling, bright candles illuminate the area well enough to signal that someone has been here to service the area, and recently. Volenta steps inside, looking around, remaining sharp, and doesn’t flinch when once she’s further from the door it closes with a soft hiss and a quiet clank of metal snapping together.

Before her is a massive table shaped in a form of a shoehorn. It can seat at least a hundred if not more, with chairs neatly waiting to be occupied. In the center, around which the table curves, stands a podium with a built-in cogitator with its screen blank and off. There’s another door to the left of her, at the very end of the room, but besides the lavish decorations of skulls, visages of the Emperor and the Inquisition symbology representing all three major Ordos, nothing really stands out. Even the view outside of the windows, reaching to the ceiling with arching designs, only show the panorama of Terra and the air-bound vehicles that are stitching the sky in their flight paths. Some of the spires can be seen, but even this lower level of the headquarters is taller than most of the buildings around it.

Nothing, Volenta realizes and moves her hand from the plasma pistol, not sure what do to next. Leave or wait? So she makes a step towards the closest edge of the table, wondering that perhaps she’s missing a note someone could’ve possibly left for her. And even though Lady Inquisitor is not exactly seeing any sighs of such a thing, she knows better than take things at face value.

Suddenly, before she can make more than two steps over the armorcrys floor under which skulls are arranged in worshipful patterns, Volenta feels hands on her. One presses flatly against her stomach and another gropes at her chest, straining the fabric when her breast is squeezed. She gasps in shock, not because of the touch but because someone managed to sneak up on her like this, and before the woman can try to move away or look behind to see who it is, she feels lips against the side of her neck, right underneath the ear, and fingers find her pierced nipple even through the uniform, squeezing it, this time eliciting more than just a gasp from the Inquisitor.

“I have been thinking about you all night, all day.” Heinrix’s voice, familiar even with lust hushing it into a gravely whisper.

“What are you doing here?” Volenta tries to grab at his wrists, to halt Heinrix’s eager progression of finding access beneath her clothes, but lacking the brute strength to do that she ends up urging the man on. Interrogator’s hand slips from her stomach and between her legs, pressing through the pants she’s wearing and beginning to rub there in slow strokes.

“I needed to see you again, Volenta. I couldn’t concentrate on anything else. You are all that has been on my mind since yesterday.” Heinrix confesses and presses a wet kiss to her neck again while rolling her nipple between his fingers before tugging on the steel bar he too can feel through the fabrics.

“This is risky.” She tries to remind him where they are, but Heinrix doesn’t halt. Instead he releases her breast and slides a hand under the jacket, forcing one of the buttons to pull open and grant him the desired access. He then palms her left breast, squishing it eagerly a few times before finding the other nipple that the man does not want to neglect.

“I made sure to take all the necessary precautions. No one will disturb us.” He squeezes her nipple, making her moan and can barely hold himself back, wishing to bend her over the damned desk immediately.

“That’s- ah!” She hisses when Heinrix pulls on the piercing harsher than he did earlier but she can’t deny what her body wants, even if it aches. “Really? Why the cryptic message then?” Trying to look at Heinrix, Volenta attempts to turn her head but he just keeps peppering kisses over her neck, breathing heavier the longer his hand rubs between her legs and his fingers continue toying with her breast.

“I wanted to make sure that you will come.” Admitting without shame, Heinrix suddenly pulls his hands away, Volenta’s fingers not grasping his wrists firmly enough to hold onto them. And he spins her around, pressing the Lady Inquisitor against his body and clashing his mouth against hers.

She makes a noise of surprise and with one fist bangs at his shoulder while trying to pry Heinrix’s hands from around her waist, but he’s stronger and much more determined than she. And the weakness of her struggle only urges him on.

“I need you. Now.” Heinrix whispers for a breathy moment, pulling back just enough to speak and notices those beautiful eyes become heavy-lidded with desire he has invoked in Volenta as well. He kisses her already swelling lips again, this time getting a response that speaks of her need for him too. Heinrix’s heart beats faster at this reassurance that he feared he wouldn’t be able to receive.

Volenta’s struggle tapers into nothing and she finally pulls Heinrix into her, with her hands around his neck and gloved fingers messing with his hair, while Interrogator’s tongue explores her mouth and makes Volenta submit and let him do whatever he wants. He’s almost breathless from desire and begins pushing the Inquisitor backwards, where he saw the desk just before he forgot everything at the touch of her, including his own name.

Realizing what Heinrix wants with her, as if it were not obvious, Volenta smiles and plants her feet firmly on the floor, even if her heels slip over the armorcrys slightly. Heinrix senses her resistance and pulls back with his face flushed, eyes clouded with lust and quick breaths betraying desires that he does not even try to hide. Volenta moves her hands from around his neck and grabs onto his shoulders. “Let me, darling.” She whispers and turns around with Heinrix, pushing him against the desk.

With a quick glance the Inquisitor locates the nearest chair and turns it by the backrest, then nudges Heinrix to sit down. He gives her a confused look, full of questions, but instead of satisfying his need to know what she has in mind, Volenta just waits until he plops into the chair. One hand grasps at her wrist and tries to pull ger into his lap, but she instead easily slips her wrist from his fingers and puts her palms on his thighs, leaning in to grant him another kiss.

“Just relax and let me do this.” She whispers against the lips that try to chase after hers when Volenta pulls back and then kneels before him. The knee guards, shaped like skulls, make a dull sound on the reinforced glass of the floor, but she only brushes her hair behind her ears and begins to unbuckle his pants.

“You... You don’t have to do this.” Heinrix suddenly mutters, realizing just who exactly is kneeling before him, the heaviness of such act not lost on his lust-addled mind, but Volenta just smiles to him, grey eyes locking onto his.

“No? Would you rather I stop?” The question is underlined when she quickly bites onto the finger of her glove, pulling the hand out of it and letting the article drop between Heinrix’s legs. About to say something, what exactly he’s not even sure of, Heinrix just watched Volenta wrap warm fingers of her right hand over his cock that she expertly frees from the confines of his uniform.

“Wait, that’s not what I-“ Heinrix starts but cuts himself off with a sigh because Volenta doesn’t wait for him to speak or make some sort of argument. Instead, she leans over and with eyes traces the curve of Heinrix’s cock, the precum smearing the tip of it, the vein that throbs after the last stroke her palm makes, and then she lets it impale her mouth. The warmth and wetness of it makes Heinrix forget whatever argument he was about to make and both hands tangle in her hair. It’s better than what he had imagined.

“Deeper.” The Interrogator demands, not asks, and Volenta smiles briefly to herself before leaning in until her nose is right against the crown of short hair surrounding his cock. With bare fingers she traces up his stomach, following the path of hair that leads up, beneath his uniform, and Heinrix’s fingers fist in her hair almost mercilessly.

Then, as if having another thought, Heinrix releases his hold on Volenta and just before he feels the bend of her throat with his cock, he discards his gloves, throwing them onto the desk and grabbing fistfuls of Inquisitor’s hair again, moaning when he realizes just how soft that whine mane of hers is.

“Volenta…” Heinrix breathes, wanting to order her to begin sucking, but she needs no such explicit command. The moment she takes entirety of his cock into her mouth Volenta pulls back, swiping her tongue over the swollen tip of his cock and then descends again, taking him in fully once more.

With a shameless moan Heinrix lets her continue for a while, just enjoying the moist heat of her mouth, but she’s toying with him and he knows it, because she’s taking it slow, watching him from beneath those dark eyelashes. “Throne take you.” Heinrix swears, gritting his teeth the moment he notices a smug glee in her eyes and grabs her head with both sweaty palms, beginning to maneuver Volenta’s head, faster and rougher.

One hand on his thigh grips tighter for support and her bare hand on Heinrix’s stomach digs nails into his muscles, but he only hisses through clenched teeth, not relenting. Faster, harder, he uses Volenta’s mouth to give himself pleasure and it’s coming fast, much faster than he anticipated.

He realizes he could stop, maybe even should, to give her a warning he’s about to come, but it feels too good, the way the flat of Volenta’s tongue strokes the underside of his cock when he brings her face down onto himself, impaling her throat onto his length right to the hilt. With face twisted from strain and pleasure, Heinrix can’t take his eyes from her, finding her so wonderfully beautiful even right now, with her eyes beginning to tear up from the sheer brutality of his usage of her.

That face, that look - they become his undoing.

Heinrix groans and bends over Volenta’s kneeling form, his fingers painfully gripping her skull and holding Inquisitor’s face pressed right against his body as his muscles spasm and his cock begin spilling Heinrix’s seed down Volenta’s throat. Her fingers twitch, betraying her surprise, but she does not fight Heinrix, except digs her fingers and nails into him even further.

The way her throat works around his cock, trying to swallow the onslaught of warm liquid that he offers to Volenta up to the last drop, nearly makes Heinrix blank out. But finally his climax relents and he remains still, still bent over, still with his hands holding her head. Heinrix’s hair is sticking to his already sweaty face and he draws heavy, groan-like gulps of air, trying to catch his breath.

Suddenly he remembers Volenta and leans back in the chair, gently pulling her face away from his cock and notices several tears that have slipped down her face, but the glee is still in her eyes and when Heinrix’s cock finally leaves the wonderful confines of her mouth, Volenta inhales deeply and rubs her throat with the gloveless hand. “My, my, I would appreciate a warning next time.”

Inquisitor’s voice sounds rough and Heinrix would feel bad, maybe even sorry, if she didn’t look so beautiful in her debauched state. With a smile, the Interrogator cups her chin and brushes pad of his thumb over her bottom lip. “I’ll keep that in mind.” He gives a false promise and leans down, kissing Volenta not only to taste her lips, but to taste himself on them. His victory, his battle spoils.

She obediently kisses him back, naively believing that this was enough to satisfy him, but Volenta quickly learns that’s not how Heinrix himself feels. So when he pulls back and helps Volenta to her feet, she reaches down for her discarded glove only to get grabbed by the hips and thrown onto her back on the table. She winces from the surprise and a sting of hard wood against her back, but when she looks at Heinrix, his focus is not on her temporary discomfort but on her belt, the zipper of her pants, the clasps of her right boot that clatters to the floor the moment he releases them.

“Heinrix, wait!” She tries to protest, but Volenta’s voice is weak, still raw from the facefucking she’s been administered and even though Heinrix hears her, he entirely ignores it.

With his cock still spent from the orgasm, Heinrix doesn’t bother tucking it away. Instead, he roughly pulls Volenta’s leg free from her pantleg and attempts to do the same with the black panties she’s wearing, aiming to unclothe her just enough so that he can have access to her body.

“Heinrix, hold on a damned minute.” Volenta laughs, lifting herself on elbows to watch Heinrix’s serious expression, a drop of sweat slipping to the end of his nose and falling down.

“No.” Is all he says, growls partially from the impatience, and Volenta’s eyebrows raise slightly with surprise but she remains quiet and just smiles, allowing him to proceed.

To navigate her panties off her Heinrix has to pull the pants down her other thigh, but eventually he succeeds in leaving the delicate lace of Volenta’s undergarment rolled around her clothed thigh. Finally he presses both palms to Volenta’s inner thighs and spreads her for himself, pausing when a breath gets caught in his throat.

“Holy Terra…” He whispers to himself rather than her and glances up to the face that is no longer just pale, but colored with a pale blush. Volenta’s slightly swollen lips stirring the passion within Heinrix even further. “Damn you.”

With that proclamation Heinrix grabs Volenta’s legs and throws them over his pauldrons before leaning down and without a second’s delay pressing his mouth to her pussy, pushing the flat of his tongue against the wetness there that he accepts with pride as his victory. Volenta lets out a small gasp, then a moan, and Heinrix hears her drop back onto the desk, fingers finding his hair again and pulling his face even harder against her. “Fuck.” She gasps and Heinrix reaches up with one hand, under the uniform and the shirt, to find one voluminous, soft breast that he grips with his fingers to the point of bruising.

“Let me hear you, Volenta.” Heinrix whispers against her folds and with thumb of his other hand he pulls the side of her pussy, opening her to his view, opening her so that he can plunge his tongue deep inside.

He does that without a moment’s hesitation, pushing the muscle as deep as he can and glances up, hoping to see Volenta’s face twisted with pleasure, but has to smile to himself because her breasts block the desired view from his sight. It doesn’t matter, Heinrix decides, because how Volenta’s body responds and how she’s moaning for him are all the signs he needs to know that she’s enjoying herself.

Another moan, a grip in his hair painfully tight and Heinrix pulls back just to begin moving his tongue in swift circles around her clit, making Volenta’s body arch and whines become louder. He squishes her breast again and gets a satisfying yelp out of the Inquisitor that spurs him on. Lips wrapped around the throbbing bundle of pleasure, Heinrix licks at it, sucks on it, then licks again, driving Volenta louder and louder. It’s like music to his ears and the Interrogator completely forgets himself in the taste and heat of her. Why he has denied himself this bliss until now? It feels almost like a sin to have waited this long.

But his dulled with lust thoughts get interrupted the moment Volenta manages to speak, her words trembling and strained. “Heinrix, I will-“ Another moan cuts off her own words and that only rouses Heinrix to continue. His other hand grips the underside of Volenta’s thigh so hard she will bear bruises for days and he wants her to. He wishes to leave marks of their meeting upon that ivory skin that smells like addiction Heinrix never knew he had.

Forgetting himself, the Interrogator glances up but gets met with a wall of her uniformed chest, preventing him from seeing her face, so Heinrix closes his eyes and moves his tongue in rubbing motion over her clit, drawing pathetic mewls out of the woman that is at his complete mercy. She still is gripping his hair, but with the gloved hand she tries to find something to grab onto and ends up clinging to the edge of the desk, right above her head. With a cry Volenta latches her fingers onto it as if it’s the lifeline of her existence, and then unravels.

Her cries, loud and breathy, fill the conference hall, and her body shivers through the waves of pleasure that wash over Volenta again and again. Heinrix doesn’t stop, his tongue keeps moving, his grip on her body remains painfully tight and she spasms under him, thighs trying to squeeze around his ears if not for the pauldrons keeping them conveniently spread for Heinrix while he draws every last drop of climax and pleasure out of Volenta.

And she gasps, beginning to whine when her bliss starts to fade and Heinrix’s eagerness begins to feel like a mix of pain and pleasure at once. “Heinrix, stop, that’s enough.” She barely manages to say between the gulps of air and despite not wishing to, the Interrogator decides that she needs a moment to catch her breath.

Lifting his head, Heinrix smiles with smugness that Volenta hasn’t seen on his face before. “Never heard you like this before.” He says and pulls a hand from under her uniform, glancing down at her pussy that is still wet from his saliva, her own arousal and looks gently swollen from Heinrix letting his lust loose. In truth, his tongue and jaw feel sore, but the eager twitch of his hard cock tells him something that he already knew – he’s not done. Not yet.

“Did you have a reason to?” Volenta tries to smile, but her face is damp with sweat, hair sticking to the forehead in icy strands, and she tries to lift herself on the elbows again, but Heinrix grips her hips and pulls her towards the edge of the desk, making her eyes widen. “Wait!”

And for the first time Heinrix does pause, rising his eyes to Volenta with an open confusion on his face. “Why?”

Volenta just stares at him, not even sure what to say, her breathing is still heavy and being the only sound in the room while they look at one another. With a quick glance downwards and between her legs, Volenta sees Heinrix’s erection, already solid and eager for her, and the thought of soreness makes the woman want to tell him not to, to save it for another time, but the longer she stays silent, the more impatient Heinrix grows. And before she tries to make up her mind, he simply readjusts Volenta’s legs on his pauldrons, making sure that her shins remain over them, then grips the base of his cock and starts pushing in.

He does keep his eyes on Volenta and at first her expression betrays shock, but then it shifts to one of pleasant discomfort. He’s hurting her, if not too much he still is giving her an ache and Heinrix takes it with pride, not exactly aware that she has been sore before him. Still, it strokes Heinrix’s manly ego and with a smirk emerging on his lips, the Interrogator pushes the tip of his cock slowly, ramming the rest of it inside of her and making her yelp. Volenta throws her head back and grips the edge of the desk by her hips, which gives Heinrix a perfect chance to pull at Volenta’s coat, making the buttons strain when he harshly tugs the uniform open, then pushes her shirt over her breasts. With one more tug Volenta’s bra ends up underneath her breasts, and her hands by the sides of the Inquisitor make them squish together even without the bra holding the mounds together.

“Bloody Emperor.” Heinrix grits his teeth and begins thrusting, wanting to watch those big, round breasts bounce with his pumps, tracking how the piercings in her nipples swing every time he fucks into her to the root.

Volenta moans, biting her bottom lip painfully at the increasing soreness of Heinrix’s cock rubbing the aching walls inside of her, but she keeps looking at him, watching his face just like he’s watching her breasts, and a small smile appears on Volenta’s face. To be so wanted, so needed, it’s bliss in and on itself.

“Harder.” She huffs with a partial mewl and Heinrix smirks, beginning to thrust even harder. It’s painful, it’s pleasant and Volenta wouldn’t want it any other way, not right now. “God-Emperor…” She gasps and lets eyes roll to the back of her head. He’s so deep, so painfully deep but she would give up almost everything for him to continue.

Thankfully, Volenta doesn’t have to give up anything, because Heinrix grips her hips tightly and keeps slamming into her, fast and hard, feeling his balls slap against the Inquisitor loudly every time he fucks into her with fervor that he barely expected from himself. If first time was driven by mad lust, then this time it’s just feral, bordering madness. He needs her, he always needed her, Heinrix realizes he will forever need her. His Inquisitor, his Volenta.

But the entirety of the scene, with her almost naked body, with her legs on his pauldrons, with her round hips in his palms, all of it leads Heinrix down the path of chasing his climax just as mindlessly as before. Heinrix gasps her name, once, twice, like a prayer that he is willing to chant more than any other and he leans over her again, pressing Volenta’s thighs to her breasts and forcing the woman look at him.

“Yes, look at me, let me see you, Volenta.” Heinrix whispers and she doesn’t even nod, too lost in the pleasure and the pain still mingling in the most sinfully delicious way. She just keeps looking at him and he sees through the haze in Volenta’s grey eyes that her mind is dulled, dazed from ecstasy. He needs her to come again. With him. “You’re close?” He asks while pressing palms firmly onto the desk to give himself more purchase to keep those hard, rough thrusts going and Heinrix hears his own voice come out in breathy, strained and whispered barks. His question doesn’t even sound like a question, but rather a demand, and yet Volenta nods to him weakly, her mind barely registering anything but the pleasure.

“Volenta, I can’t… hold… back.” He warns and with a groan succumbs to the orgasm that he tried to stave away for as long as possible.

Heinrix doesn’t even get to see Volenta’s face because his climax is so strong it forces the Interrogator close his eyes, grit his teeth and press his face against Volenta’s chest, gasping into the soft mounds of her breasts. With thrusts erratic and stuttering in their rhythm, Heinrix spills himself into her again, pressing Volenta firmly onto the desk without even noticing it. His teeth find flesh and bite down to muffle his own voice and the world both spins and stops at the same time.

As Heinrix goes through his peak, Volenta barely feels the bite. Her fingers lock onto the edge of the desk so firmly she nearly breaks her nails, but not even that she notices as another orgasm hits her hard and heavy. She was close, but not as close as Heinrix. Yet feeling him fill her again, just like he did yesterday, sends her over the edge so unexpectedly that her eyes snap wide and Volenta’s back would arch from her body’s strain, if not for Heinrix, still on top of her so heavily that all she can do is cry out repeatedly and shiver in his arms.

After Heinrix finally stops moving, he remains as he is, prone upon her for a long moment and listens to Volenta’s gasps for air, the way her dry throat works when she tries to swallow. “You’re heavy.” Lady Inquisitor finally whispers and Heinrix pauses, then laughs, his own voice raw and breathy, but he does lift himself on the elbows and looks at the face that he never wants to stop seeing in this state.

“And you’re beautiful.” Heinrix says, making Volenta smile in turn and then leans in just enough to give her lips a soft, almost chaste kiss. “I’m sorry. If I hurt you.”

“You didn’t.” She answers in a similar whisper as his was and Heinrix grins, satisfied by the answer.

“Good.”

But the smile begins to fade when he realizes that both of them shouldn’t linger here. Not after all the noises they have made for the past forty or so minutes. Despite Heinrix making sure that no one needs the conference hall, nor that anyone will be around at this time, the risk still remains that some acolyte will find a reason to come here, and that simply won’t do. Despite his desire for Volenta, he would never want to compromise her reputation.

“We should go.” Heinrix suddenly says and Volenta’s smile dims a little, but she realizes quickly the same thing he has and simply nods.

“You’re right.”

Yet Heinrix pauses, unwilling to part just yet despite knowing they have to. One last kiss. A deep one and his tongue still tastes remnants of himself in her mouth. Then he pulls back and carefully straightening his back, Heinrix pulls out, watching his cum leak out of Volenta, creating a very satisfying view.

“Beautiful.”

“Maybe so, but my uniform.” She laments and to Heinrix’s delight rolls onto her side, swiftly moving her cloak and coat from under her so that they don’t stain. He wants to help, but not being sure how, Heinrix picks up his gloves first, then the one Volenta dropped onto the floor earlier.

In the meantime Volenta sits up, legs dangling from the desk, one of them still having her heel, pants and panties, the other one naked. And when Heinrix looks at her, seeing her hair a complete mess, Volenta’s shirt rolled over her breasts and bra beneath them, when he sees five round bruises from his fingers upon her right breast, all of it takes his breath away. He suspects that besides his more clothed state, Heinrix himself surely doesn’t look any better and he feels the sweat has soaked through his own shirt and the jacket, but those are minor details, not worth focusing on.

However, to Volenta he looks lovely. Uniform crumpled, pants undone, hair is no less of a bird’s nest than hers, but it only makes her chuckle. And she remembers the moment Xavier brought Heinrix in to introduce him to her. He’s going to be part of my retinue, Volenta, - Xavier said to her back then, - Once he fixes himself. Interrogator looked pitiful then. Missing an eye and part of the skull, limping and walking with a stick, but he still stood proud, and when his remaining eye turned to Volenta, who was an Inquisitor for only a handful of years, she saw pride and resilience there, in that face that was mangled seemingly beyond salvation.

And now he stands before her, whole, after spending years to fix himself with biomancy. A man reforged, born anew.

Volenta extends a hand, the one bearing no glove and Heinrix takes it, kissing the top of it, then steps closer and cradles the side of her face, looking Lady Inquisitor deeply in the eyes. “I can’t stop thinking about you. Even now, I still crave for more of you.”

“Don’t be greedy.” She teases and Heinrix smiles at that, then gives her a kiss.

“I don’t want to go.”

“But you should. I’ll fix myself up but it’s better, just in case, if we don’t leave together.” She whispers against his lips and Heinrix freezes, realizing that Volenta is absolutely, horribly correct. He has to leave her here and that makes him almost angry. Sneaking around like two criminals as if what they have done is punishable. He does not want this. Heinrix does not want to be Volenta’s secret or him to be hers.

However, reality is not as willing to fulfil this wish of his and finally Heinrix nods and pulls back from Volenta with a heavy sight. “When can I see you again?”

“You didn’t need to ask me today, did you.” She laughs and Heinrix nods, defeated.

“You’re right. But maybe I should have asked.”

“And maybe you shouldn’t have.” Volenta gives Heinrix a pointed look and he takes the obvious hint immediately. He nods and before releasing her face he gently caresses the scarred cheek, before stepping away completely.

“Then I won’t.” Heinrix concedes and fixes up his pants, then runs fingers through his damp hair before pulling the gloves on.

Pausing to look at Volenta who pulls off her second glove, drawing his eyes to the rings on her left hand, two on one digit, he knows that he doesn’t want to walk away but feels like there’s nothing else he can say or even if he should, so he catches her eyes and nods. In turn Volenta nods back to him, flashing a smile that resonates with Van Calox and with a smile of his own he finally turns and leaves.

Volenta sits on the desk for a moment longer, watching Heinrix leave the conference hall after opening the door and glancing around. Only when the door slides shut again is when she sighs and looks down onto herself, seeing her completely ravished state.

With another sigh she finally slips onto the floor and begins assembling her attire together, careful not to stain anything as much as possible. But the way it happened again, despite Xavier’s disapproval, just makes Volenta sink deeper into her thoughts and the memories of Heinrix on occasions when they worked together or met, for one reason or another.

There was always something there, wasn’t it.

She knows it has been and finally admits it to herself, not daring to ignore it any longer.

Finally, when Volenta pulls up her pants and starts fixing the front of her uniform, she looks at the door where Heinrix stood last before departing, and wonders if he feels the same.

But all that’s on Interrogator’s own mind is bliss and a feeling of victory. As he struts through the hallways of the Inquisition headquarters, all Heinrix can think about is the taste of her lips, the way her body felt around him and against him, the way she moaned his name. Nobody else’s, his.

How the day passes Heinrix barely notices. Some orders, some tasks to be finished, some documents to be filed and sent out. There is something about a fellow colleague, trying to convince Heinrix to take a break and share a drink at Justitia Imperatoris, but he refuses it, not wanting to dull his mood or a memory of Volenta with meaningless conversation and less than subpar liquor. And so when his tasks are done, at least the most pressing ones, Heinrix goes home.

Outside of the vehicle window he sees the horizon become painted in hues of red and purple, signaling the end of day, and distracted by it, Heinrix lets the autopilot take him to the humble abode that he calls his on Terra. Unlike some other agents of his rank, Heinrix does not see the need for elaborate mansions or grand castles. And truthfully, it’s not something he could afford even if he wished for it. Having a home on Terra is an expensive endeavor and having an apartment on a high-rise building is already luxurious enough. It’s nothing in comparison to Volenta’s estate, which he has visited several times before and on business only, but he has made it his.

Arrival through the front door is marked by the machine spirits clicking out of slumber and lighting the lights. There’s a hallway, a big living room, a bedroom to the left, a small kitchen to the right, a balcony. Heinrix does not use the kitchen even though it is equipped with technology that would help him cook, but he’s not the kind of man to care for what he eats as long as he does. Living room and the bedroom see of the agent most often, not counting the bathchamber where he sometimes spends a long time just standing under the shower of lukewarm water.

Such a shower is exactly what he needs right now, Heinrix knows it. His clothes under the jacket and the cloak feel uncomfortable and he begins undressing right by the dark couch. Personal cogitator is blinking with a blue light, meaning it has messages and information that can wait. Color red would be a different kind of siren call, one of emergency. But since it’s not the case right now, Heinrix proceeds to take off his gloves, throw them onto the couch and let them be followed by the cloak, the pauldrons, the greaves, the shin guards.

For a moment he sits on the edge of an armchair, positioned diagonally from the couch and pulls off his boots, then runs a hand over his hair and sighs with a smile. Heinrix is almost confident he can still smell Volenta on him, the perfume of something foresty and richly fruity, like pomegranates he once tasted. He loathes to wash it off, to let her touch be scrubbed off, but trying not hold onto such sentiment the Interrogator removes his jacket, the undershirt and with fingertips traces the faint nail marks that Lady Inquisitor has left on his abdomen. Like they are medals of merit that he’s prouder to wear right now than his own rosette.

But Heinrix doesn’t linger much, already wondering how he can see Volenta again, how he can arrange another such private moment, maybe even tomorrow again. He chuckles to himself, realizing that the Inquisitor might see him as unable to be satiated, but can she really blame him? After all these decades watching her but being unable to touch her, stuffing his deepest thoughts and feelings to the darkest crevices of Heinrix’s own mind, lest they threaten to compromise their working relationship? No, he can’t even blame himself, how could anyone else?

Pants and shirt join the pile on the couch, the socks and underwear too until Heinrix stands in the nude and stretches his muscles, feeling bloody rows that Volenta’s long nails left there ache dully, but satisfyingly. He wishes to trace his fingers over them too, like it’s a testimony etched in his skin about how much he made her unravel the day before, just like today.

Heinrix is about to go to the bedroom, to the tall mirror that he uses to check his clothes every morning he wakes up here, but three steps towards the open door there’s a signal. A special one. It’s one that is assigned to his mentor, Inquisitor Xavier Calcazar, and Heinrix stops in his tracks. The blissful mood he has been soaking in the entire day dissipates immediately as if fog dispersed by the engine thrusters. Sweat immediately pebbles his temples and Heinrix finally realizes that he forgot something that he shouldn’t have.

Or did he really forget? Instead of willfully remaining ignorant to the fact that insisted upon him even when he saw Volenta last, when she pulled off her remaining glove before Heinrix’s departure. The rings on her finger that he saw clearly and turned away from, too ecstatic to really comprehend the gravity of them.

The harsh reminder. Harsh like a bolt shot from an Astartes gun, tearing everything in its way and finishing with a devastating explosion.

Not daring to delay even a second longer, Heinrix walks barefoot to where his garb is piled and finds the greave that bears the personal vox. It doesn’t flash, just glows with the dim green hue and a code name for his mentor. One click is all it takes to see the message behind the sender’s identification, yet Heinrix’s finger hovers of it, slightly shaking.

Did they get caught? Did… Did Volenta tell Xavier? Oh Emperor, what has he done…

In terror of his own mind, the Interrogator runs a hand over his hair then returns the finger to the button and finally presses it. The message finally displays its contents and it’s nothing he hasn’t read countless times, but it fills Heinrix’s stomach with so much dread he nearly starts dryheaving.

“Tomorrow at 8 sharp. My office. Merciless Wrath.”

Calcazar doesn’t need to add that Heinrix is expected not to be late, not even by one Terran second, and he swallows, attempts to swallow, but the dry throat refuses to cooperate and so he lets out a short cough instead.

Clicking the message into deletion, Heinrix throws the greave onto the clothes and closes his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose. It can’t be anything else than the Inquisitor calling to him about… About the cheating. Cheating that his wife has done, sure, but Heinrix is also a cheater. Doing this, taking Volenta, having her in ways that he never had any right to. He betrayed his mentor and his trust. And for that, Heinrix is confident, he will pay tomorrow.

With legs feelings like they are about to fold under him, Heinrix proceeds to the bath chamber and enters the stall of glass walls, letting the water run. Actions driven by habit rather than decision unleash the stream much colder than what he’s used to, but the Interrogator barely notices.

He stands there, under the shower, head hung low and eyes open, staring into nothingness, into the memories of that pale, soft, yet lithe body under his touch. The way she smelled, the way he tasted himself on her kiss.

At first Heinrix presses both palms to the glass, needing something to help himself stay upright, sensing he might fall if he doesn’t do it, but then the frowning face of Xavier emerges in his mind, unforgiving and merciless like a proof of Inquisitor’s ship’s spirit and the wrath it can bring. At that moment Heinrix strikes the thick glass with a side of his fist. Then again. And then again.

He doesn’t have to ask himself how he has forgotten, because he hasn’t. He didn’t forget. Instead, he chose to ignore it, the knowledge of Volenta’s marriage, because the lure of her in Heinrix’s arms at last made him throw away caution like he has never done before in his life. It’s only death that awaits him on Merciless Wrath, he knows it with same assurance that he knows the Emperor sits on the Golden Throne.

With a bitter smile of a hanged man, Heinrix wonders if he will even be court-martialed, given a trial, or just shot on a spot the moment he enters Xavier’s office. Emperor knows, Xavier has more than enough to sentence Heinrix to execution even without the fact that he fucked Xavier’s wife.

Stupid, so so stupid. And blinded by his own lusts. He knows this. And while the smile turns into a chuckle, verging on mad laughter, Heinrix still doesn’t regret it.

If all that awaits him tomorrow is death – then he will go down smiling. Not in defiance, not to spite Calcazar and not out of disrespect to the man behind who’s back he went despite bearing all the trust the Inquisitor has placed in Heinrix. No, he will smile in front of a muzzle of a gun or from under the edge of a blade because even if he dies tomorrow – at least he finally knows how it feels to have Volenta in his arms and how soft her hair is.

Because he knows now what it’s like to look into her eyes and feel like he’s the only one in her universe.

And that knowledge, unlike almost any other, is worth dying for.

[shadesofmauve]

The Dorling Kindersley Illustrated Guide to Space Travel

Tumblr doesn't want to make the link fancy, but my Normandy plans are now up on AO3!

(Thanks to @virusq for the name, @swaps55 for the high-res screenshots of the game maps, and everyone who contributed to the discussion — I captured a lot of you in chapter notes, but I'm still looking at comments, too)

Updated images

The AO3 versions have some refinements and are higher resolution. In particular, all the elevation drawings now show changes in floor and ceiling height and give an idea of wall positions.

Future updates and changes

I'm going to add my galaxy map to the same work. I'll also likely keep making tweaks to the ship and ship images.

Currently the images in the overview chapter use outlines overlaid on the hull, and I only use the full color renderings for individual decks. I'm not sure if the clearer view of the hull is adding enough, or if the better rendering would be better:

I could also do cropped versions of the elevations, which don't show off the sexy sexy spaceship well but do show off the parts I'm working on. I really don't want to redo all those exports though, so for right now right click -> open image in new tab is your friend! They're high enough res that you can zoom in. (AO3 strips target="_blank" out of link tags, or I'd have done that for you).

Look how messy it is with all the layers on!

[galexibrain]

Something that bugs me a little is the insistence that Gohan actively hates to fight period. Bc that's not true!

(This ignores everything that happened outside the original manga/the DBZ anime)

Yes, he lacks Goku's or Vegeta's laser-focus on all things martial arts, but let's be real, all half Saiyans do. Goten & Trunks sure have more passion for fighting than Gohan does but they're much more "human" about it than their dads and have other interests in their lives too.

But while Gohan originally became a fighter out of necessity and had little choice in the matter there are instances when he clearly shows that he is totally capable of enjoying himself in a fight.

For once there's obviously his fight against Cell - once he snapped his "Saiyan side" took the lead and he was enjoying himself a little too much (and ruined it, like a good Saiyan must).

But it also becomes clear in the early Buu arc. Yeah, initially he's not rly interested in the tournament and wouldn't have participated if not for Videl forcing him.

But once he was in he was in. He even got a little annoyed by Videl interrupting his training, and he did want to win. If he really hated it so much he could have entered with the plan of failing the preliminaries, or losing in the first round. But the thought never crossed his mind. I think if you'd suggested he botches it deliberately to get out of it he'd been horrified.

He was going to have fun with it! I think his most "Saiyan" trait is that he's a bit of a showman lol. He likes to be flashy! And he likes to boast! He COULD have just used a plain costume and mask to hide hid identity but nope, Great Saiyaman it is! He likes being seen and being known as a crazy strong superhero. Maybe he'd have been into pro-wrestling with their fancy costumes and showmanship

Even before things went off the rails at the tournament and Buu arc was set in motion he was ready to go. And yes his crush on Videl might have served as motivation: "haha cool she won't be disappointed if someone beats her dad! (I can date her if I beat her dad)" -> he WOULD have thrown Satan out of the ring if he'd gotten to fight him, no questions asked.

And once he, Goku & Vegeta are in Babidi's spaceship it gets even clearer: now, no one is forcing him to fight. Ofc Gohan always wanted to fight when it was necessary, even at 5yo he wouldn't stay home, he made it very clear that he was going to Namek.

But while they were going through the levels in Babidi's ship this still wasn't a serious thing. Pui Pui and Yakon were a joke for them. Vegeta was getting pissed, ok, but aside from that it was just fun and games for them, and Gohan could easily have said "nah have at it you two, I'm sitting this one out" but never once did he so much as consider NOT taking part in rock-paper-scissoring it out to decide who gets to go first.

He was eager to fight Dabra! Dabra told them to take him on 3:1 and Gohan flat out told him "no way, this is MY fight!". And if Vegeta had interfered with that fight to end it quicker I'm 100% sure Gohan would have decked him in the face and told him to fuck off. (Maybe that would have cooled Geets' mood a little lol.)

The problem isn't that Gohan hates fighting from the bottom of his heart. He doesn't. The problem is he grew up with a dad who was 100% a fighter and a mum who was 100% into education, and he didn't find a balance. He didn't even know that might be an option! He thought he'd HAVE to choose one thing, and one alone, and so he chose education.

Who could have taught him otherwise? Maaaaybe Piccolo (post-reunification with Kami), but tbh I think he didn't want to give Gohan the feeling he had to fight. I think Piccolo feels a little bad for putting 4-5yo Gohan through the wringer so much.

Like idk. Let my boy be both. Let him have Goku's legacy as well as make his own!

(I've read about Dragon Ball Online a little and tbh Gohan writing a book on ki and making it widely known? Perfect. I love it. Best idea ever. Probably the best thing that happened to DB since the original manga and Z anime ended. I am accepting this as canon 100%.)

[lordsireno]

Deponia Space AU

((A snippet of a universe where Deponia is a solar system, of which Elysium is trying to escape, so Cletus is sent to convince the locals to help out))

“Cletus look! Isn’t it beautiful?”

He took pause, glancing to the window that Goal was pressed against. 

“If your standard of beauty is measured in clouds of cosmic radiation and poisonous atmosphere that would drop you in a single breath, then sure, it’s lovely.”

He could see her roll her eyes in the reflection, but it was of no consequence, because he was right. They’d left the safety of solid ground and breathable air for the vast, cold and empty void of space, and he hated every minute of it. 

“Hurry along, we shouldn’t keep them waiting.”

Goal pulled herself away, but rather than returning to his side, she pushed off the ground, floating down the hall with a slight spin.

“Well, hurry up then slow poke!”

“We were instructed to keep our feet on the ground! If you’re thrown about in turbulence then it will be your own fault.”

She stuck her tongue out, using a handrail to propel herself all the way to the next door. She re-engaged her magnetic boots before pressing the open button, heading through as Cletus had to take long strides to catch up. 

The command centre was buzzing with activity, men in green uniforms with tinted helmets pouring over controls and screens of data, all working to keep the massive spaceship functioning. On the top level they had entered on, a central station showed a holographic map of the system, which was being observed by the bridge commander Bailiff Argus.

“Guests on deck!”

One of the men called out as they approached, and Cletus frowned. Not being about to see the faces unnerved him. He’d much prefer to read someone's expression to know how his words were received. Argus at least had some transparency to his visor that let them see his eyes. They stopped on the opposite side of the display, Goal reaching out to touch one of the little planets.

“Inspector. Ma’am. You’ve familiarised yourself with the mission details?”

Cletus held his head high, “Yes. We’re to visit the habited locations in the Deponia system in an effort to drum up more workers for Elysium's launch.”

“Snk, Ma’am.”

Cletus saw Argus’ eye twitch, but the Bailiff simply cleared his throat.

“That is a very basic overview, but ultimately yes. We will be escorting you for the duration, providing transport and security, but we will keep our distance so as not to… intimidate the locals.”

“So you’re our babysitter, sir?” Goal snickered again.

“Yes. Because you both clearly need to be watched closely. This plan is vital to the survival of all Elysians, so I trust you can take your job seriously?”

Cletus scoffed, “Of course we will. We understand the severity of the situation clearly.”

“I’m not sure you really do.”

Argus turned away to speak to another soldier, so Cletus tapped Goal of the elbow to get her to lean down. 

“What is going on with you?" He whispered harshly, “I brought you along to help with negotiations, not antagonise our allies.”

“You brought me along? I remember volunteering because you’re the one prone to starting fights with your words. But if you don’t need me, I’m sure they’ll happily drop me at the next station.”

He grumbled. He didn’t want to be up in space working like this, but he particularly didn’t want to be doing it alone, or with just these faceless soldiers. That look Goal had was one where she knew she’d won. 

“Whatever just, let go of whatever hangup you have with the Bailiff.”

“You’re no fun-”

“This here,” Argus changed the holomap, drawing back their attention, “Is our first stop: The Floating Black Market.”

“Is that… an asteroid belt? We’re seriously going there first? Why not an actual planet, with oh I don’t know…a surface and air and proper gravity?”

“The Market is a gathering point for vagrants and the displaced. Plenty of people desperate for work, and just as many that won’t be missed if they go missing.”

“So kidnapping is still involved! Why am I even here then?”

Cletus quickly wilted at the glare that landed on him, avoiding it by turning to peer out into the darkness outside. 

“We depart immediately.”

—

The space craft felt more like a barge than a ship to Cletus. Sure, he’d been on neither in his life, but enough media showed him that ships were vessels for moving people in relative comfort, and barges got cargo from one place to another.

And he was really feeling like a piece of cargo, cramped in a tiny living compartment for the duration of their travel. 

There were other places, but the Organon army was not making them feel welcome in any of them, their opaque helmets staring them down. 

[satoshi-mochida]

the World According to Girl coming to PS5, PS4 on December 25 - Gematsu

Publisher Amata Games and developer yondray will release roguelike deckbuilder the World According to Girl for PlayStation 5 and PlayStation 4 on December 25 for $9.99, the companies announced. It will support English, Japanese, Spanish, Portuguese, French, German, Simplified Chinese, and Traditional Chinese language options.

the World According to Girl first launched for PC via Steam on February 22, 2022, followed by Xbox series, Xbox One, and Switch on February 15, 2024.

Here is an overview of the game, via its store pages:

About

“A game about turning an ordinary girl into the savior of the world.” the World According to Girl is a combination of a deck-building roguelike and a caring game in which you take on the role of an administrator in order to nurture a girl into a savior. Examples of “Human Resources (Card) Effects”:

This season, gain +1 cost

All entertainers give +2 to a status of 1 or higher

Call for random emergency or surprise.

Spend six seasons (turns) a year, seven years in all (42 turns total) to raise the girl and develop a true savior. At the end of the year, a dialogue (battle) with the Inquisitor, who measures the girl’s abilities, awaits you. Use the girl’s abilities and the memories you’ve nurtured to win the continuation of the “plan.” And the ending of the story changes with the girl’s abilities. Watch the girl and the world go on until the end.

Story

The story takes place over 100 years in the future. The world is on the verge of collapse. Humanity has planned a rescue mission to outer space in the only spaceship left. It needed to be the best people in the world to board it. The world poured everything it had into raising a single girl.

Watch the PlayStation launch trailer below.

PlayStation Launch Trailer

English

Japanese

[chellerbelles]

Rogue & Gambit Fanworks Week 2024

Day 6 - Space Adventure & Pirates AU

I had this grand plan of writing a one-shot for Space Adventure, but ran out of time to get it written in time for this week. It's still on the to-do list, but for now, below the cut, I have the "prologue" for the space adventure, staring Pirate Legend Rogue and AIB Gambit.

You need to know that when I was planning this story, Pirate Legend Rogue and AIB Gambit were the very first pair I came up with, because then I would get to write about Space Pirates! :D Arrrr!

Pirate Legend Rogue looked hard at the spaceship. There were a couple of other Rogues and Gambits nearby who were planning the same thing Steampunk Rogue was planning; exploring the multiverse.

“It seems a little…closed up,” Pirate Legend Rogue said finally.

“Well, they have to be,” AIB Gambit replied, “otherwise you get sucked out into space and die.”

“Hmm.”

AIB Gambit smiled. For the first time since they started talking, she seemed less than enthused about pirating in space. Vague memories of old cartoons popped into his head, and he looked around for the nearest Reaper. He spotted one quickly (they were everywhere), and she started walking the moment he lifted his hand to wave.

“How can I help?” Reaper Prime asked.

“We’re thinking about merging our universes,” AIB Gambit said, “and I was wondering what the odds were of us having a pirate ship that looks like a sailing ship, like the ones on the Ocean Deck, but can fly in space.”

“Arr, that would be amazing,” Pirate Legend Rogue said, jerking her gaze away from the spaceship towards Reaper Prime.

Reaper Prime chuckled. “That would be pretty cool.” Red light billowed from her and wrapped around AIB Gambit and Pirate Legend Rogue. “I can’t confirm anything until you two actually start the bonding process but…” She trailed off as she started concentrating.

“To truly sail the stars and pirate planets,” Pirate Legend Rogue said wistfully. “It be a beautiful dream.”

AIB Gambit chuckled. “It does have a lot of romantic appeal.”

After a long silence, Reaper Prime spoke once more: “Alright, again, I can’t confirm anything until after the bonding process has already started, which I know makes thing difficult. However, our, your universe,” she gave AIB Gambit a nod, “is a bit more scientific, and yours,” Reaper Prime nodded to Pirate Legend Rogue, “is more magical. So, theoretically, more fantastical spaceships should be possible.”

“What about our kids? Can they exist in the new universe too?” AIB Gambit asked.

“I definitely won’t be able to say for sure until after the bonding has started, but so far, we’ve been able to make sure that everyone gets to keep their kids,” Reaper Prime replied and smiled. “What can I say? We’re all a family-oriented bunch.”

“Excellent,” Pirate Legend Rogue said, and clasped her hands together. “I be convinced. Ye be convinced?”

AIB Gambit grinned at her. “Yeah. I think it’ll be fun.”

“Good. Then it be settled and the bonding can begin.”

Before AIB Gambit could blink, Pirate Legend Rogue was in front of his, her hands on his chest. Her lips met his, and she kissed him soundly for a moment, as a curtain began raising up from the deck floor around them. AIB Gambit couldn’t help but think about how good it felt to kiss her, with a flash of sadness that he never got to do this with his Rogue. His original Rogue.

Reaper Prime grinned and took that as her cue to leave, but stayed in proximity long enough to hear the next words:

“You. Pants off. Now.”

“Aye aye captain.”

[lovefms]

🎧   :   you’re  live  with... @loveszip!

beau  still  wasn’t  used  to  it.  none  of  them  were,  really.  not  the  scientists,  not  the  handlers,  not  the  press.  a  spaceship  returning  to  earth  a  full  century  after  it  left  was  the  kind  of  thing  you  read  in  speculative  fiction,  not  log  into  your  monday  shift  to  find  sitting  in  your  calendar.  and  yet...  he’d  watched  the  landing  from  the  upper  balcony  of  the  observation  deck,  pressed  in  among  executives  who  pretended  not  to  be  frightened.  the  ship  had  looked  like  a  scrap  of  metal  held  together  by  luck.  and  when  the  doors  had  opened,  the  world  had  changed.  the  international  coalition  was  still  scrambling  to  catch  up.  none  of  their  contingency  plans  had  really  accounted  for  this.

beau  had  helped  shape  the  reentry  protocols,  but  it  hadn’t  made  it  any  easier.  he’d  stayed  late  in  the  weeks  following  the  return,  consulting  the  cultural  historians,  writing  out  phrases  to  avoid  and  how  to  break  news  gently.  he’d  read  files  on  every  crew  member:  full  names,  education,  photographs—most  in  black  and  white.  there  hadn’t  been  much  to  glean  from  them,  not  really.  just  names  and  guesses.

santi  yoo  had  been  the  one  assigned  to  him.  an  engineer.  had  siblings.  resourceful,  one  of  the  files  had  read.  beau  wasn’t  sure  what  to  do  with  that.  he  stood  when  he  heard  the  door  open  and  tried  not  to  straighten  his  shirt  for  the  fifth  time.  the  room  they  were  using  was  one  of  the  nicer  ones:  soft  lights,  glass  walls  with  drawn  blinds,  neutral  carpeting  and  a  potted  plant  someone  had  insisted  would  be  calming.  he  didn’t  know  if  calming  was  the  right  word  for  someone  who’d  just  found  out  it  was  2039  and  everyone  he  loved  was  dust.  santi  stepped  in,  escorted  by  one  of  the  internal  security  staff.

beau  offered  a  small  smile.  he  cleared  his  throat  gently.  “hello,  mr.  yoo,”  he  said.  “i’m  beau  ahn.  i’ll  be  your  assigned  handler  for  the  next  few  months—think  of  me  as  your  first  point  of  contact  while  you…  settle  in.”

he  paused.  how  do  you  even  talk  to  someone  like  this?  “i  know  it’s  a  lot.  and  i  won’t  pretend  to  understand  how  it  feels.  but  i’m  here  to  help  however  you  need—no  pressure.  just…  one  step  at  a  time.”  he  gestured  toward  the  chair  opposite,  hoping  santi  would  take  it.  “can  i  get  you  anything?  water?  tea?  coffee?”

[justahumblememefarmer]

Ultimate Doctor Who Poll Round 1 - Matchup 21

Episode Summaries under the cut

112: The Return of Doctor Mysterio - Season 9 Christmas Special 2: A young boy, Grant, meets the Doctor one Christmas Eve and follows him to the rooftop where the Doctor is working on a device. He hands Grant a glowing stone to hold, and mistaking it as medicine, Grant swallows it, giving him superpowers.

Years later, after a press conference in New York City, the Doctor and a rogue journalist, Lucy, spy on the leader of the company, and see him trap and kill somebody, replacing their brain with an alien controller. They run, but are caught and held at gunpoint, only to be saved by a superhero, The Ghost, the Doctor recognizes as Grant. After leaving, the Doctor follows Grant to an apartment where he is masquerading as a nanny and is taking care of a baby. The baby's mother, who it turns out is Lucy, returns home and is shocked to see the Doctor.

The Doctor agrees to help Lucy look into the alien organization. She also asks him to arrange a meeting with the Ghost, to which he agrees. The Doctor goes to investigate the organization and discovers that they've built skyscrapers in capital cities around the globe, plus a building in New York City. They've set up the buildings like bomb shelters, and plan to crash an empty spaceship into NYC. When the only thing left standing is their building, all the World Leaders will take shelter at their buildings in their capital, allowing the aliens to replace them.

The Doctor lands aboard the empty spacecraft above the planet, but accidentally triggers the crash sequence early. In NYC, the aliens got to the rooftop where the Ghost and Lucy are having their interview, intending to capture the ghost and turn him as well. He "escapes", then comes back to the rooftop as Grant, holding the baby. The aliens intend to take them all hostage, but are alarmed to see their spaceship crashing.

The Doctor signals Grant and he reveals himself as the Ghost in front of Lucy, stopping the spaceship. The Doctor calls in UNIT to apprehend the aliens, and Grant and Lucy realize their feelings for one another.

145: Voyage of the Damned - Season 3 Christmas Special: The Doctor lands aboard a spaceship modeled after the Titanic. He meets a waitress named Astrid Peth aboard, who dreams of traveling the stars. The Doctor encounters a glitch when trying to get information from one of the robotic Heavenly Hosts on board. The Doctor joins a brief tour group to Earth, where they find the streets deserted due to people being nervous from attacks on London the past two Christmases.

They return to the ship and the Doctor discovers a power failure and the ships shields being down as a meteor shower is approaching the ships. The meteors hit and the ship is severely damaged, and headed to crash into the Earth, which would cause an extinction level event. The Doctor and several surviving passengers and discover that the Hosts are killing the remaining passengers. The Doctor instructs the passengers to get to the reception deck to transmit an SOS signal, while the Doctor goes to investigate a mystery at the heart of the ship.

He finds and is captured the CEO of the starliner company, who has prolonged his life with cybernetic enhancements. He has been forced out by his board of directors, and plans to crash the ship to ruin his companies reputation by destroying a planet, while he survives in his bunker and retires to luxury. Astrid uses a teleporter to arrive and kills the CEO, and herself in the process. The Doctor assumes authority over the Hosts and have them take him to the bridge, where he saves the ship from crashing and steers it back to space.

[themculibrary]

Fics With AJ & Cass Wilson Masterlist

bedside manner (ao3) - writethewolvesaway G, 3k

Summary: “You okay, Cass?” he asks. 

“I-” Cass clutches at his water again. “I don’t really,” his voice cracks, “ I don’t really feel so good.”"

-

Cass falls sick when Bucky is watching him. And other things happen, kind of. That's the main thing, though.

Blow out the Candles (ao3) - TrinityDay bucky/sarah G, 2k

Summary: Bucky knew something was up. Sam's veiled references and his coded conversations with his nephews weren't very subtle. Sarah had an explanation, but it still caught Bucky off-guard. He hadn't considered his upcoming birthday factored into it at all.

But then, it had been a long time since anyone had planned a surprise for Bucky's birthday.

But Is He Good With Kids? (ao3) - OneBuckyBitch sam/bucky N/R, 1k

Summary: Sam's been falling in love with Bucky for a while, but what's the tipping point that draws a confession from him? Funny enough, the Winter Soldier is really good with kids, and Sam's heart is a goner.

eagle three (ao3) - ToxicLxki G, 1k

Summary: By the time they were pulling back into Delacroix, they were no longer AJ, Cass and Bucky, but instead Eagle one, Eagle two and Eagle three, and they were on a mission.

Etude (ao3) - rebellconquerer bucky/sarah T, 5k

Summary: AJ gets into a fight. It pushes both him and Bucky to do some growing. 

"Bucky takes another necessary bite of his ice cream to buy himself a moment to think. He glances over to see Cass watching him, clearly waiting for his reaction, waiting for him to… parent? Oh God, that's what's happening right now. He's parenting. A task that neither the military, hydra, nor any other aspect of his life has prepared him for."

Find Our Way Home (ao3) - Lokinyan G, 15k

Summary: Bucky is invited to stay with the Wilson Family over Christmas.

Friends Don’t Trip the Light Fantastic (ao3) - SunsetMaiden sam/bucky T, 1k

Summary: “Uncle Sam and Uncle Bucky are showing Cass how to dance,” AJ stage whispered as he munched on a bowl of pretzels. His eyes were wide behind his glasses, as if he had never found anything so entertaining in his life.

“Are they now?” Sarah asked with a near snort.

For two people trying to teach a kid something, Sam and Bucky were paying said kid very little attention as they opted to bicker instead.

hold on, i’m coming (ao3) - philthestone G, 1k

Summary: “Do you ever get tired of being good?”

Sam crosses his arms and hums. “What makes you think I’m good?” he says.

AJ gives him a look. “Everyone says so. And I can tell.”

“Can’t listen to everyone, AJ. That’s dangerous. Gotta think for yourself.” That’s something Sam’s Dad used to tell ‘em, all the time.

“Well, Mom says so. Bucky says so too, a lot. They ain’t everyone, they love us.”

if you got the notion (i second that emotion) (ao3) - CrimsonPetrichor sam/bucky G, 5k

Summary: If there is a field that Sam’s kind of an expert in at this point, it’s admiring a good view: earth from the deck of the Guardians’ new spaceship, the skyline of Birnin Zana against the mountains in the distance, lightning bugs flitting around the backyard as the sun dips behind the trees.

Now, on a breezy May afternoon, Sam stands a little ways away and considers the deadliest assassin of the twentieth century as he watches a middle school choir performance, and not a great one at that.

------

Sam and Bucky go to a carnival and feel some feelings.

letters we never sent (ao3) - MissAmyShay bucky/sarah G, 6k

Summary: Bucky likes Sarah. Sarah likes Bucky.

Cass and AJ think it’s time for their relationship to progress to a new level.

New Names, Same Love (ao3) - orphan_account bucky/sarah T, 5k

Summary: Bucky swears he feels his heart swell in enamor even more upon hearing AJ’s words. He knew the boys loved him (because it was very much reciprocated on his end), but hearing AJ verbalize it out loud in such a sentimental way like this, that he loved Bucky and thought of him a second father figure was enough to make him cry.

He looks over at Cass, whose yet to offer an input on the conversation. With Cass being older and actually having recollected memories of their father, he knew it was probably more challenging for him to hear his brother refer to another man as their father. Bucky also knew there was a high possibility that he would be more reluctant on calling Bucky dad anytime soon, or ever, unlike his brother. 

—

a domestic fluff piece featuring bucky and the boys. followed by a little buckysarah scene at the end ;)

Noticing (ao3) - Pickwick12 bucky/sarah G, 1k

Summary: "Bucky realizes what’s missing"

Home from his honeymoon, Bucky gets up to speed with each member of his family and helps Cass navigate a new and difficult experience.

one small step for man, one giant leap for mankind (ao3) - writethewolvesaway G, 1k

Summary: Sam, Bucky, Sarah, and the kids visit the Air and Space museum.

Popsicle Standoff (ao3) - Sarifinasnightmare sarah/bucky T, 1k

Summary: Cass and AJ rescue a kitten. Bucky has a soft spot for cats and decides to aid and abet them in hiding the little floof from their mother.

Postcard (ao3) - orphan_account sam/bucky G, 2k

Summary: Bucky buys too much gifts for the kids. Sam gives his first love letter. Sarah calls Bucky an idiot. AJ can't break an egg.

They all love each other so much.

Scorpion Games (ao3) - Sholio T, 12k

Summary: Sam's nephews have been taken by HYDRA. Zemo is getting them back. No matter what.

The Candy Hunt (ao3) - endlesstwanted bucky/sarah G, 1k

Summary: Sarah and Bucky come back from a Halloween party in Delacroix to find AJ and Cass still awake from trick-or-treating with friends.

The Things We’re Grateful For (ao3) - little0bird sam/bucky, past sam/riley T, 9k

Summary: Bucky joins Sam's family for their big Thanksgiving dinner. Not everyone is overjoyed to see the former Winter Soldier at the dinner table, but Bucky's got a few people on his side.

And Cass and AJ teach Bucky how to play Uno.

weekend at the wilson’s (ao3) - orphan_account bucky/sarah T, 3k

Summary: With her out of town, that meant that Bucky would be assigned her duties in her substitution. He’s watched the boys before but it’s never been for more than a few hours (considerably the reason for Sarah’s prior concerns.) But Bucky had siblings of his own and he knew how to tend to children’s needs. Cass and AJ weren’t even difficult children to begin with anyway, so he wasn’t worry about the end results of this weekend at all.

—

or bucky’s first weekend alone watching the boys.

[duhragonball]

Dragon Ball Super manga ch.87

Ruh-roh.

So last time it looked like the good guys had finally defeated Gas.  They didn’t kill him, but everyone seems satisfied that he’s beaten.  Monaito goes to heal Granolah and it turns out he’s gotten much faster about it.  Seems that Goku and Vegeta weren’t the only ones who got stronger in all of this. 

But it turns out Gas won’t go down that easily.  He recovers from Granolah’s finisher, but he looks like a desiccated corpse now, and he doesn’t even seem to notice.  So the fight continues, and even when Goku does serious damage to his arm, it doesn’t even slow him down.  Vegeta likens it to a curse.  Gas must be the strongest in the universe because of the wish.  No matter how much damage he takes, he can’t weaken, no matter what, until he finally dies. 

This horrifies Oil and Macki, who were already concerned about the toll this was taking on Gas’ body.  But Elec still doesn’t care.  At last, Gas sees his reflection and finally realizes he’s dying.  Elec tells him to hurry up and finish the good guys off, because any minute now, he will... wait, who’s he?

It’s Frieza!  And he just got done watching Iron Man movies! 

So yeah, now we finally see what Elec was trying to do here.  When Granolah first came to him asking for Frieza’s location, and he told them how he used the Cerealian Dragon Balls to wish for supreme strength, Elec lured Goku and Vegeta to Cereal to eliminate Granolah.  While the fought, the Heeters found the Cerealian Dragon Balls and wished for Gas to become the strongest in the universe. 

At the time, it just seemed like the Heeters were just looking to bump off Granolah so that they could proceed with their plans to eliminate Frieza on their own terms, but now we see that Elec had contacted Frieza to arrange a meeting on Cereal, so that Gas could assassinate him when he arrived. 

And Elec’s plan could still work.  I mean, Gas hasn’t gotten rid of Goku, Vegeta, or Granolah yet, but he’s still alive, and he can still kill Frieza.  After all, he’s the strongest in the univer--

Oh. 

Oh my.

So yeah, Frieza just one-shotted Gas, and that makes things very awkward for Elec, who wasn’t planning past this moment.  Frieza calmly explains that he’s been aware of Elec’s scheming for decades, and he allowed him to play his intel games for the benefit of his own organization.  He also tells Elec that he’s known all along that the weakest of the four Heeters is Elec.  Then he kills Elec, which is kind of a formality at this point.

So how the hell did Frieza defeat Gas so easily?  The dragon made him the strongest in the universe, right?  Frieza explains that he just recently got out of a Hyperbolic Time Chamber that he found on one of his conquered planets.  While inside of it, he did ten years’ worth of training.  During that time, Frieza became far more powerful, and when Gas’ wish was made, Frieza wasn’t in the universe to be taken into account. 

Okay, one small problem with all of that.  Gas has only been the strongest in the universe for a fairly short time now.  I mean, most of this arc has taken place in a single day on Planet Cereal.  Maybe a few hours at most have passed since Gas got his ultimate strength.  So Frieza must have stepped out of the Time Chamber, then got in his spaceship and hauled ass to planet Cereal in that short span of time. 

I mean, it’s plausible, sure.  Maybe Frieza’s ship is really, really fast, or his Hyperbolic Time Chamber just happens to be on a planet very close to Cereal.  Or maybe he’s got the entrance to the chamber built into his ship.  That’d be pretty cool. Drink some space wine, head down to Deck Seven and step into your own private Hyperbolic Time Chamber for a decade or two.

I’m just wondering if maybe Toriyama and Toyotaro got mixed up somewhere.  It would make a lot more sense if Frieza surpassed Granolah this way, since Granolah made his wish a month or two ago.  But he took out Gas like it was nothing, so the only way that makes sense would be if Frieza was in the Time Chamber on this same day.  Or maybe Elec’s wish was worded differently.  He might have asked the Dragon to make Gas stronger than Granolah, thinking that there was no semantic difference.  Well, it’s not worth quibbling over.

Anyway, Frieza’s motives should be obvious.  He was outclassed in Resurrection F, and then again in the Tournament of Power, and then again in the Broly movie.  Frieza wanted a way to get back on top, so he used the Time Chamber to close the gap, and he developed a new form: Black Frieza.  It’s... just Golden Frieza but with a charcoal color scheme instead of gold. 

So now we’re back to basics, with Goku and Vegeta fighting Frieza again, only with new ultimate forms.  Well, this could lead to--

Fuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuck!

So yeah, Frieza beat Ultra Instinct Goku and Ultra Ego Vegeta, at the same time, with one blow.  He doesn’t even bother to finish them off, which is kind of a nice touch, since he’s already demonstrated that they’re no threat to him.  When they recover, they find Granolah tending to Monaito, who was fatally wounded when Gas came back for that final round.  But then Whis shows up and heals Monaito as a special favor.  He’s come to pick up the boys because Beerus needs technical support for making instant noodles again. 

And... that’s the end of the arc.  I was kind of surprised, because I was pretty sure Granolah died at the end of this thing, but no, he and Monaito are fine.  The surviving Heeters, Oil and Macki, take jobs on Frieza’s spaceship crew.  Goku has a souvenir from his bio-dad.  Granolah and Monaito plan to use the Dragon Balls one last time to repair the damage to Planet Cereal, and then Monaito intends to deactivate the Dragon Balls for good. 

Curiously, Granolah still has his incredible power and shortened lifespan.  I would have expected that to get reversed somehow.  I mean, Vegeta’s offering him a rematch, which is pretty standard for Dragon Ball, except Granolah only has three years left to live.  I assume Toyotaro plans to use him again in a future story, but with all the timeskips we see in DBS, will Granolah still be alive by then?  Well, that’s Toyo’s problem.  I’m sure he’ll come up with something. 

Of course, the big plot dangler from this chapter is the looming threat of Black Frieza.  Sooner or later, Goku and Vegeta will meet him again, and Frieza won’t be so merciful.  None of this is mentioned in the Super Hero film, but presumably the boys were training specifically to deal with the Black Frieza threat.  That’s probably also why they brought Broly’s group to Beerus’ planet.  In the movie, they said it was so Frieza wouldn’t find them, and that makes more sense if you know about Black Frieza, since Golden Frieza was no match for Broly. 

I’m a pretty hardcore Cell fan, so I hate to give Frieza any credit, but I have to admit that this chapter might be the coolest Frieza stuff I’ve seen in a long time.  For years, I’ve maintained that bringing back Frieza in 2015 wasn’t worth it.  Resurrection F wasn’t that good, and the character hasn’t done anything since that justifies bringing him back.  But now, at least we have the promise of something that will actually live up to the hype.  Golden Frieza was basically on the same level as Super Saiyan Blue, but this new Black Frieza is in a league of his own.  Here, we finally see Frieza returned to his original status, far beyond all the other characters. 

And it seems like Frieza has finally learned from his past mistakes.  He’s not blindly charging in for revenge, or leaving things to his subordinates.  It’s the same character, but he’s changed, and not just in terms of color or power.  This isn’t the same Frieza from 2015 or 1990.  And that’s what matters here, because if you’re going to bring back a classic character, you have to do something new with him.  Like how Goku finally got to remember his parents after all this time.  Whatever happens next, he’ll never be quite the same, but you have to give him moments like that, because if he never grows or changes, then there’s no point in telling new stories about him. 

This was a very good arc.  In a way, the Moro and Granolah sagas compliment each other well, because the Granolah arc demonstrates exactly what was wrong with the Moro arc, and the Moro arc shows what the Granolah arc did right.  It’s hard to imagine these were both written by the same creative team, but there it is.  I’m definitely feeling a lot more optimistic for the future of this comic.  Of course, the next several chapters are an adaptation of the Super Hero movie, which is a bold step backwards, but hopefully after that’s over they’ll let Toyotaro cut loose. 

So that wraps up my coverage of the DBS manga.  But I’ve still got some more material for the liveblog, so stay tuned...

[burnwater13]

Image from The Mandalorian, Season 2, Episode 4, The Siege. Caption from The Mandalorian, Season 1, Episode 4, Sanctuary.

Touching things? Touching things? Other than that one time when they were headed to Sorgan, when did Grogu ever touch things? And no, using the Force to stop the mud horn from crushing the Mandalorian did not count. 

It just so happened that Grogu needed to test somethings that day and the Mandalorian just didn’t appreciate the importance of his testing strategy. They were in a spaceship! A ship that takes you around space! You can’t just take safety for granted in vehicle like that. You can’t. You have to understand how the systems behave and what actions you can take to resolve the problems without just flipping the switch back to its ‘on’ position. 

The Mandalorian had not been amused. Well of course not. The testing plan was thorough and detailed and necessary. It wasn’t a game Grogu was playing with the human to see how far he could push the uptight bounty hunter. He had no reason to do that. 

Somedays all you had to do to frustrate the Mandalorian was get up and check the system status on the console of the Razor Crest. Grogu had never liked it when anyone picked him up by the collar of his coveralls and he made no exception for the Mandalorian. That was a total power play and Grogu learned a lot about the people who did things like that. 

Of course he did play certain games with the bounty hunter. Like ‘where is the knob for the flight control stick’ and ‘how many dung worms could he fit in his mouth without actually swallowing them’. If Grogu managed to get the knob without Din Djarin noticing it immediately, that win was marked under Grogu’s name. No matter what happened with the dung worms, Grogu took credit for the win because it was so funny to watch the Mandalorian clean the worms off the toes of his boots.

Of course the Mandalorian got even with him over that by asking him to go into that access port and try to rewire the Razor Crest’s hyperdrive stabilizer. Red wires, blue wires, boards, blah, blah, blah. Grogu wasn’t certified to do repairs like that. What was the bounty hunter even thinking? Grogu wasn’t an Anzellan after all. And he never needed to find out what ‘oppositely charged meant’. Uff.

Grogu wondered what else he should test? He already knew that Din Djarin wouldn’t eat even the tiniest bit of frog or dung worm. He wouldn’t take his helmet off after he sneezed.  He only used the privy when he thought Grogu was asleep. He could tell when his socks were switched around (left for right). He also knew the differences between sixteen different armor polishes based on the stuff he was trying to clean off his armor. 

Wow. That had been a boring afternoon. Grogu hadn’t come up with that test either. The Mandalorian had done that one all on his own. Grogu just had to suffer through it. It was the one time Din Djarin had asked him to specifically hand him a particular tin of polish and when Grogu gave him the wrong one because the sixteen tins in the collection all looked alike to him. This one was for dirt. This one was for blood. This one was for other bodily secretions. This one is for paint. This one is for muddy clay. This one is for clay with a smattering of mud. You get the picture. The Mandalorian is fussy about his armor. 

So fine. Grogu would stop touching things. He wouldn’t touch the switches or the buttons or the ship’s deck or anything else. Of course he didn’t think the Mandalorian really wanted him to just float around the Razor Crest, but that’s what he asked for and Grogu was definitely going to give it to him. 

Photo and caption from The Mandalorian, Season 1, Episode 4, Sanctuary.

[talentforlying]

"Hey baby, are you the first card in the tarot deck because you got me actin' like a fool." Mulder strikes a pose, before spinning around and trying another pick up line.

"What's up, hot stuff? Can you feel the magic? I'm about to cast a spell on you." Another pose. This time he finds a chair near John to lean against. Wait are those sunglasses?

"Did you know that Venus is in conjunction with Uranus?" Mulder stop-

' oh christ. '

he's trying not to give mulder the satisfaction of a laugh. he's doing his bloody best, here. but exasperation and the dread of knowing this will go on for as long as mulder has air to draw breath are rapidly giving ground under the onslaught, and his lips are twitching behind the protective guard of his hand.

' really. seriously. whole bleedin' world of beatles-flavored pick-up lines available an' you go with the magic. could i pay you t'shut up? at least take yer shirt off f'you're gonna give us a show. ' his smile is all but audible, crinkling the corners of his eyes and tugging on every syllable. stupid, this is stupid. he's always been soft for stupid. one of the files he's been slogging through becomes handy ammunition, balled up and lobbed with shocking accuracy to bounce off mulder's chest. ' eugh! sunglasses indoors, you pillock. '

his revenge is timed out carefully, planned without a hint of mischief on his face: he hooks the tip of his shoe around the nearest leg of the chair mulder's leaning on and yanks it askew, hopping out of his seat to catch mulder around the waist before he can fall — only to promptly step on the back of his heel and make sure he falls. the resulting dip is entirely too graceful for a bit of spur-of-the-moment fuckery, and constantine is smirking as he swipes the sunglasses, holding them up to his face and peering down at mulder through the lenses.

' did it 'urt when you fell from your alien spaceship? ' head tilted to the side, innocent, almost genuinely concerned. then his supporting hand releases and: WHOOMF. dropped to the carpet. should be okay, though — mulder's used to falling for him by now. constantine sits back on the nearest desk, the very picture of an unconcerned bystander, twirling his prize between his fingers and snickering. ' not as much as that, i 'spect. '

@spookyagentfmulder

[pixelwixard]

Potential Lower Decks fanfic and fanfic-adjacent ideas (and it turns out some talk about writing insecurity, which is the first four paragraphs so you can skip if you want)

LONG INTRO

I'm about to type a LOT of stuff. This whole post got longer than I thought it would.

So, I have my AO3 account, finally. I don't have any other creative projects. What's stopping me from writing some fanfic already?

MYSELF. I AM THE PROBLEM.

Okay, I'm exaggerating for comedic effect! I will admit to still being nervous about writing something that's not my own brainchild, though. "What if I get it wrong?" I ask myself. "What if it doesn't sound anything like the show?" I am working on convincing myself that neither question is that important. I may not get it EXACTLY right, and it may sound more like my versions of the characters than the canonical versions, but...who cares? As long as I'm doing my best and being true to the spirit, isn't that good enough? That's what I'm trying to tell myself. And also, self, no, it's not going to sound like the show. That doesn't make it WRONG. You're not a professional comedy writer, are you? No. You're not writing this for a paycheck, are you? No. So stop worrying about it!

I'm trying to tell myself this.

So, anyway, that was a long intro to say that I'm going to now do the other thing that writers do when they are scared to actually write: I'm going to talk about writing. And also plan a research project!

LOWER DECKS RESEARCH PROJECT

Actually, let's talk about the research project first. I thought I might do a second rewatch of Lower Decks, with the goal of writing dossiers for each character. Gather known facts, of course, but also take special note of dialogue and interaction. What the characters say, how they say it, what kinds of jokes are usually targeted at them, how they are with specific characters, you get it. A real resource for my own writing, and something I'd also like to put out there for others who might want to use it. Seems like a lot of work for fanfic, but I do love having a project, and this is a long-term one. Plus, it will train me to make detailed characters of my own. Also plus, it will make me feel like an anthropologist or a spy, gathering intel on my subjects, and I am a creep like that.

Okay, and now to talk about what I might want to write!

ACTUAL FANFIC IDEAS

I've already talked about some ideas I've had. Mostly, the AU stuff. My mind keeps going back to it, so it seems it may become a reality someday. I was thinking of changing the tentative name of "Spell Trek" that I came up with for my fantasy AU, since it's the name of a board game, but I figured it doesn't matter that much because it's not like I'm selling these stories, and I don't think there will be market confusion. Haven't come up with much else beyond some scattered thoughts for the setting, but I'm pretty sure it will be a straightforward conversion. You know, swap sci-fi for fantasy. Probably have them all flying around in airships instead of spaceships. Might be interplanar travel instead of interstellar. Phasers? Well, that's just a stun wand. Shields? That doesn't really change, it's just a magic shield instead of a science one. The biggest question I have right now (just popped into my head) is how to handle "warp." I have to figure out how planar travel works, I guess. I'd also have to think about whether I want to keep all the species intact or kind of play around with them a bit. Wouldn't be that hard to make Vulcans elves, or Klingons orcs. Plenty of worldbuilding to do, is the point.

The second idea I had, which is actually still applicable to the first, is the matter of story format. I've been toying around with different ways to write lately. I COULD just write in the traditional prose way, like you would find in a book. DIalogue, action, description. First or third person. You know.

I was thinking, though, that I might want to write scripts instead. I've toyed around with it when writing original fiction. I don't really follow the proper TV format, though. Very loose style. But I figured, if I wanted to emulate the show as closely as possible, then maybe a script makes sense for me. Not sure how many people want to read scripts, but maybe SOMEONE out there would like them.

Oh, on a related note, I was also thinking of writing stories as transcripts. Similar to the script, but particular style. I had three possible notions to go with this idea:

The Lower Deck Five (T'Lyn for the win), or maybe just a couple of them, decide to make a piece of ancient Earth entertainment known as a "podcast." "The Cerritos Experience," or something like that. Just a place to talk about missions, gossip, whatever. So, my stories would be transcripts of their podcasts. I think this one is my favorite.

Stories told through personal logs. Could just be one character's, or could be multiple characters' talking about the same events.

Perhaps Captain Freeman decides that she needs visual records of all missions from now on, so now away teams wear bodycams or have drones or something. Transcripts of the videos that they produce.

I don't know, there's just something I like about the simplicity of scripts and transcripts. You still have to have a good story to tell, but it feels easier, in a way. For my, anyway. Eh, I'll probably end up writing traditional prose, too, but I do want to experiment with one of these ideas (probably the podcast).

Sorry I wrote so much. Hey, you didn't HAVE to read it. Thanks if you did, though. Let me know if any of this sounds interesting.

[satoshi-mochida]

Roguelike deckbuilder the World According to Girl coming to Xbox Series, Xbox One, and Switch on February 15

From Gematsu

Publisher Amata Games and Japanese developer yondray will release roguelike deckbuilder the World According to Girl for Xbox Series, Xbox One, and Switch on February 15, the companies announced. It will support English, Japanese, Spanish, Portuguese, French, German, Simplified Chinese, and Traditional Chinese language options.

the World According to Girl first launched for PC via Steam on February 22, 2022.

Here is an overview of the game, via its store pages:

About

“A game about turning an ordinary girl into the savior of the world.” the World According to Girl is a combination of a deck-building roguelike and a caring game in which you take on the role of an administrator in order to nurture a girl into a savior. Examples of “Human Resources (Card) Effects”:

This season, gain +1 cost

All entertainers give +2 to a status of 1 or higher

Call for random emergency or surprise.

Spend six seasons (turns) a year, seven years in all (42 turns total) to raise the girl and develop a true savior. At the end of the year, a dialogue (battle) with the Inquisitor, who measures the girl’s abilities, awaits you. Use the girl’s abilities and the memories you’ve nurtured to win the continuation of the “plan.” And the ending of the story changes with the girl’s abilities. Watch the girl and the world go on until the end.

Story

The story takes place over 100 years in the future. The world is on the verge of collapse. Humanity has planned a rescue mission to outer space in the only spaceship left. It needed to be the best people in the world to board it. The world poured everything it had into raising a single girl.

Watch the console launch trailers below.

Xbox Launch Trailer