#trying out 'cluster' instead of system

[dyke-terra]

Cluster as shitty moodboards because we're having a self indulgent morning. Lisa - Nix - Lómiel - Ancunín - Steph - Alekai

[rhiannonsknife]

— thinking about lucy and wasteland pollen…

— warnings: wasteland!reader. fem!reader. nsfw content. so mdni.

lucy is new to everything up here.

so naturally, she doesn’t think twice before bounding into a field of strange-looking flowers, her curiosity leading her straight to them.

“would you look at that?” she says, crouching down to inspect a cluster of golden petals swaying gently in the breeze. you don’t even have time to warn her before her boot lands on something with a soft crunch. the motion releases a faint hiss below, and suddenly a shimmering cloud of yellow spores billows up around her. lucy only waves a hand through it, laughing. “huh, weird plants!” she remarks, completely and utterly unfazed, oblivious to the danger.

“why did you stop?” she calls over her shoulder when she notices you lingering a few feet back, hesitant to follow. “don’t tell me you’re scared of a little flower dust!”

the golden dust of spores clings to her jumpsuit, her hair, her skin. every part of lucy seems coated in them, yet she doesn’t appear worried in the slightest.

instead, she frowns at you.

“you’re acting weird. did i do something?” lucy asks, unaware of the risk she’s already unleashed. the spores are likely already in both of your systems, setting something irreversible into motion.

lucy has always been so unaware of her effect on you. even now, she seems to find a way of making everything harder for you.

you’re the one who has to decide to leave the field and get her somewhere safer, (once again getting both of you to safety as per usual) but even then, it’s impossible not to notice the little things about her: the way the flush begins to creep up her neck. how her fingers nervously fidget with the straps of her pack. or the way, when you sit down at your makeshift shelter for the night, she keeps shifting closer to you without even realizing it

the silence stretches on until lucy, never one to hold back her curiosity, finally breaks it: “why is it so hot in here? Is it just me? Is that…normal?” she asks, tugging at the collar of her jumpsuit, exposing a sliver of skin that feels suddenly too intimate to look at.

you force yourself to turn away, to focus on literally anything else, even as heat pools in your stomach.

“maybe it’s the air circulation,” she muses aloud, her fingers still working at her jumpsuit. “vaults had better airflow! this place is like a furnace!”

lucy pauses, then glances at you again. “your face is all red too!”

she leans in, her eyes locking onto yours. the space between your bodies shrinks. suddenly all you can think about is how close she is, how her heat radiates against you, how easy it would be to reach for her and-

“lucy, it’s not the air!” you blurt, scrambling back with a voice that betrays how strained you feel.

lucy only frowns in confusion.

“what do you mean?” she asks. “is this one of those things i should’ve read about in that wasteland survival guide you made me throw out?” her brows knit together as she stares at you, the weight of the situation still not sinking in.

“lucy, stop!” you finally snap, the sharpness of your voice cutting through the haze that’s currently clouding both of your thoughts.

“why?” she demands, louder this time. “oh, gee, are you sick? are we sick? what’s happening?” her hands flutter in front of her, restless and unsure, and you have to catch her wrists to still her before she completely spirals.

“it’s not sickness!” you manage hoarsely. “it’s something in the flowers outside. it- it does things to people,”

lucy doesn’t miss a beat. “what kind of things?” she asks, and the innocence in her voice sends a fresh wave of heat crawling up your neck.

“it’s like…a chemical reaction!” you try. “a really strong one”

she blinks at you, her expression still painfully blank. “like hallucinations? oh my- is this a drug thing? because i’m not-”

“not hallucinations, lucy!” you interrupt her. “it’s…sexual.”

she stares at you, her mouth opening, then closing again. “sexual?”

you close your eyes, breathing deeply in an attempt to stay calm. “it’s an aphrodisiac. it makes people…” you trail off, unsure how to finish the sentence without your voice breaking.

her lips part in a silent ‘oh’.

lucy shifts her weight awkwardly, her cheeks flushed. “so, is that why i feel…kind of weird?” she asks, looking down at herself. her hands fidget at her sides. “because i thought it was just the heat, but my chest feels tight and i-” she cuts herself off abruptly, her wide eyes darting up to meet yours. “wait, do you feel that too?”

you grit your teeth. “it’s the spores!” you say sharply, refusing to answer her question directly.

lucy sits in silence for a moment, mumbling ‘okay, okay’ under her breath. “this is fine!” she blurts out then, pacing to her corner of the room like she can outpace her own discomfort. she tugs at the zipper of her jumpsuit, pulling it down halfway to reveal the damp fabric of the tank top clinging to her skin.

“it’s just a little warm, that’s all! we’ve been through worse, right?”

“it’s temporary,” you mutter, more to yourself than to her. “it’ll wear off. we just need to wait it out!”

but lucy clearly doesn’t know how to wait something like this out. she doesn’t stop talking once, her voice a nervous stream of energy. “it’s just, like, a fever, right?” she says, forcing a laugh that’s far too loud. “i’ve had fevers before! this is fine. totally fine!”

you don’t respond. you can’t.

your jaw is clenched too tight, and your focus is entirely on not looking at her: not at the way she keeps fidgeting with the fabric of her suit around her thighs, or the way her chest rises and falls with shallow, uneven breaths, or the way the flush spreads down her neck, blooming across her sweaty collarbones.

the air feels thicker by the second, stifling and heavy. you’re biting the inside of your cheek bloody and digging your nails into your palms, desperate for anything to ground yourself, anything to distract from the heat coursing through you, from the way your body throbs in time with your heartbeat.

lucy, who’s the one who got you into this mess in the first place, catches you staring at her. her breath hitches for a moment, her lips parting slightly. “are you okay?” she asks. “you’re being really quiet,”

“i’m fine!” It comes out harsher than you intend, and you turn away, pretending to rummage through your pack. your hands are shaking too much to do anything useful, but at least it gives you something to focus on besides her.

lucy doesn’t let it go. of course she doesn’t.

you hear the sound of her boots scraping against the floor as she stands and crosses the room, and before you can tell her to stay put, she’s kneeling in front of you. “hey,” she says, her hand hovering hesitantly near your shoulder.

“don’t!” you bark, jerking away before she can touch you.

her hand drops immediately, her face falling. “i wasn’t- i’m sorry! i didn’t mean to-”

“it’s not your fault!” you interrupt apologetically. “it’s just…”

you trail off. you want her, that’s what it is. you’ve been wanting her, long before she decided to step onto the petals and release spores that would only make matters worse.

now that they’re in your system, you’re hyper-aware of all the things you didn’t notice before: each breath lucy takes rings in your ears, the scent of her lingering with how close she’s sitting. hell, even the sweat that’s dripping from the side of her neck seems to draw you in.

lucy sits back on her heels, studying your face carefully. “it’s bad, isn’t it? the spores?”

you can smell her from here: sweat, heat, and something unmistakably sweet beneath it all. it only makes it harder to think. you swallow hard, nodding. “yeah. it’s bad.”

she hesitates, then asks the question you’ve been dreading. “is it bad for you because of me?”

you don’t answer right away, but when your eyes meet hers they seem to give her all the confirmation she needs. lucy, who’s very clearly not immune to the effects of the spores, doesn’t seem to fight them as hard as you are.

“i can feel it too, you know?” she murmurs. “it’s like this…heat. it won’t go away,” her cheeks flush deeper and she looks down. “i keep telling myself not to think about it, but-” her fingers twitch against the floor. you clench your jaw, forcing yourself to hold back, even as every fiber of your being screams at you to close the space between you.

“we can’t!”

lucy leans in. “why not?”

the dam breaks.

she freezes for half a second when you surge forward, only to melt into you moments later. your lips crash against hers, hard and desperate, and her back hits the wall with a soft thud.

her arms instinctively come up around your neck, pulling you closer. she makes a soft, startled sound against your mouth, but it quickly shifts into something hungrier, something raw.

lucy maclean, you only vaguely realize as her tongue slides past your lips, is moaning right into your mouth and you aren’t even touching her yet.

her fingers tangle in your hair, tugging just enough to make you shiver as the kiss deepens. the heat between your legs is unbearable now, a steady thrum that pulses through your veins, demanding release.

neither of you can stop the way your bodies move together, hips rolling forward in a frantic rhythm. there’s no relief there, in the way your hips meet halfway, only need, frustration growing with every futile attempt to grind yourself against her.

and yet you physically cannot stop.

it’s almost embarrassing how fast it sends you over the edge once you finally stumble to the dusty ground together and find a good angle to grind against each other, one that actually works.

it only takes a few lazy ruts of your hips until you’re cumming beneath her, rutting through the haze of pleasure. you’re just conscious enough to feel lucy tense up above you too, shaking and trembling with the force of her own orgasm, with her head thrown back and her hair sticking to the sweat on her face.

still, you can’t seem to stop.

a part of you expected this to be the end of the aching throb between your legs and the heat flashes, yet the orgasm only seems to make things worse: like an itch, only intensifying once it’s been scratched.

lucy, seemingly struggling with the same thing, feels greedy when she starts humping your leg all over again, whining: “can’t stop. m’sorry. i can’t stop!” as she drags her crotch over your thigh.

you can feel how damp she feels there, how hot and wet. at this point, you don’t care to think rationally about this. you’ve already crossed the point of no return, so you might as well make use of the…situation.

she is ever wetter than you’d expected from what you felt through her jumpsuit already (you both are): once you’ve peeled the fabric off her damp skin and reach between her legs for the first time, you’re taken aback by the sheer amount of arousal that has pooled there.

lucy is so wet, impatiently humping your fingers until two of them slide into her easily.

her own fingers curl around your wrist, moving it so she’s fucking herself on you.

two easily turn to three, her body gladly accommodating the stretch. and even then, even as the second orgasm crashes over her in record time, lucy is still panting and begging for more.

you know it’s the pollen. you know there’s no way to fully satisfy the urge until it wears off eventually. but how are you supposed to turn lucy down when your own body is aching for her and she’s quite literally begging for more? when she’s gushing down your wrists, her walls clamping down against your fingers so tight it’s hard to move?

of course, lucy gets you off too. you doubt you could’ve gone much longer without feeling her touch.

truthfully, you have no idea if she knows anything about this or if she’s going on some primal instinct caused by the spores.

either way, you’re in no position to question her when she aligns herself with you once she’s gotten you out of your clothes too. when she grinds against you with no restrictions in the way, clutching your hand tightly in her own to somehow ground herself. when her slick rubs against yours and you feel her cunt throbbing and her clit pulsing against your own until you cum with a desperate cry of lucy’s name.

it’s not surprising that neither of you had enough of the other just yet, with lucy already one orgasm ahead.

so she spins you around so you’re on all fours and puts her mouth on you from behind, lapping up your arousal.

her name echos through the night but you’re far too into this to care about the potential dangers you could be attracting. besides, if you die with lucy’s tongue inside of you, it’ll be worth it.

“oh my god!” you cry out, arching your back. she hums breathlessly, her hands on your ass and her lips closing around your clit as they suck.

it’s hours later, after she’s made you cum one final time on her fingers until you were gushing around them, that you both come to your senses again.

lucy is sprawled out on the floorboards by your side, staring at the ceiling with wide, unblinking eyes. her chest heaves with uneven breaths, inhaling the heavy scent of sweat and sex around you.

“oh,” she says finally, hands folded over her stomach. “oh wow,”

while the adrenaline is still buzzing faintly in your veins, there’s something sobering about the cool ground against your hot skin and the way lucy hasn’t moved except for the occasional blinks.

“so,” lucy mumbles eventually. “that was the spores then..”

you let that linger, unsure if you want to tell her that it wasn’t just the spores. at least not for you.

“well,” she chuckles softly. “at least we won’t have to deal with that kind of pollen again! lesson learned!”

[sector38]

#NSFW

From Sector: 38

Entry: Ⅰ

Apparently, there was a time when people believed there was an edge to the world - that if you sailed far enough, you'd just fall off the side of the world. I used to find it so funny, I just couldn't understand or comprehend how this world had a definitive end to them

now, I understand.

Sitting at the edge of the sector, the cool metal of the man-made ground pressed against my bare thighs and the cold waters engulfing my feet staring out into the watery abyss.

Technically I wasn’t meant to be there, unless you have a valid pass you're not allowed outside the city walls and considering mine was four days out of date I very much did not want to be caught.

My friends spent their days working, rebuilding our society in miniature while i spent my days sitting at the brink of the universe staring out at the unchanging.

But even if i did work, what would i do? Who would i be? Who could i become?

A reconstructionist? A teacher? A cleaner? A cook?

So Instead I continued to sneak past the guards who can't be much older than me lined up like pawn pieces with faces harder than the boots they wear and sit, stare, soaking up the very thing that left us floating in silent devastation.

I should have brought my watch or my phone it was just that after last time (with me nearly dropping it and all) I thought best not, but now looking at the inky night sky I'm wondering whether that in itself was a mistake. No one is allowed out past curfew (10 pm summer, 8 pm winter) it's too dangerous, too unpredictable.

It's funny, they won't tell us what to be afraid of, and they'll tell us we have nothing to fear then usher us into cages, protection from an invisible entity - an immeasurable enemy.

Still, even I can feel it the shift in the air - the cooling breeze stilted like something holding it back or someone. If I was smarter, I would have left, grimaced at my wet feet in my clean new white socks and black shoes, and slipped in through the city walls -

Except, i was never known for being particularly smart.

Which is why when I saw flashes of colour in the sea instead of running I stayed transfixed - purple and white hues swaying in and out of focus though always remaining in a tight formation, a loose cluster.

They were coming closer to the surface, whatever they were, its colours becoming more pigmented in its hues, its actions becoming more assured and targeted: it was coming for me.

I was frozen, completely and utterly frozen - I couldn't scream or speak, I couldn't even breathe. The only assurance that I hadn't turned to stone was the sounding of my beating heart - and even then, I couldn't place the organ. I felt its ricochets in my throat and stomach but heard it like a gunshot stretched out through time.

A cold encircled my ankles, a loose grip coiling around me, barely touching me. The tenderals, if I can call them that climbed up my body till they poked through the surface of the water and wrapped themselves against my lower thighs.

Now i could see it: long tentacles sprouting from a cluster deeper in the waters - the purple skin translucent inside faint veins iridescent colours shimmering like solar systems from a far of place. The ends were elliptical, curved like she shell of an egg as if blown from molten glass.

My hands once frozen by my side reached out gently to touch the head of the tentacle closest to me - gently i lifted my shaking fingers stopping them in front of the strange creature. With careless inhibition it slithered along my fingertips till it rested in my palm, feeling its weight in my hand and the soft integument.

For a while, the world was just this - just me staring at this creature that seemed to hold each star dead and dying under its skin but then i felt it - the tentacles slight grip on my upper thigh, not as though it was trying to pull my into the waters but instead as though it was searching for something.

The tentacles began to pulse, gently and softly like the humm of birds on a summer night - gentle but unequivocally present before a voice clear yet distorted rung through my mind:

Do not be afraid

then they slipped under my short black skirt.

As if a trance had broken i gasped, dropped my hands in haste and so the head of the tentacle which once occupied a place in my palm opting to try and push my body up and away from the waters and its presence.

But it was too late.

I'd been too distracted, so stupid and curious i didn't notice just how many tentacles had wrapped themselves around me lower body - sensing my resistance they only seemed to hold on tighter tendredals slipping further and further up my inner thighs till they rested over my pastel pink panties.

The tentacle which lay in my hand curled around my wrists like an armlet - as though i was a forgotten pharaoh.

The head of the tenderal under my skirt began to pulse against my underwear, pushing slightly against it dampening the material.

Its words like a ping pong ball bounced around my head, the once empty space echoing its words over and over as its intrusion continued.

They didn't tell us much about the monsters that came with the flood but they did tell us some things of of which being all of them have at least a three percent intelligence increase between them and us. It never meant much to me didn't mean anything that these monsters had minds far superior to beings - i was more confused with how they came about this knowledge.

With which lucky team of xenozoologists gathered them up and spoke to them, communicated them.

I wonder what they would say now, how they would stare down at me in their long white lab coats and tightly pulled back hair as this elderitch creature hummed against my skin.

Do not let your mind wander

The tentacles gripped me wrists tighter, sometime ago they had captured my either wrist as well truly any thoughts of escape which may have entered my mind were banished. The other tentacle began to nudge more incessantly at my underwear - in this moment i couldn't understand how this creature was supposed to be more intelligent than me, no five percent more intelligent than our most intelligent human? And yet it couldn't figure out how to take off my panties? It wasn't like the material was so expensive that they couldn't easily break, with one strong tug they would fall into the waters, floating over the face of the deep blue before perhaps sinking or maybe just continuing to float.

It was then that a feeling overcame me - i hate to say it but it was like the rush of a wave, like the sudden feel of cold water on hot skin and salty water hitting the back of your tongue. It was like a perfect cocktail of euphoria, clarity and anticipation. I understood then all that i could have known.

It wasn't that the monster didn't know how to take of my panties, it wanted me to need it to.

I bit my lip, drawing blood in haste covering a moan that threatened to slip from my lips at the thought - the tang of iron coating my tongue and cheeks, probably dying my teeth.

Silently in my own mind i whispered "please" and that was all it took before it was ripping my underwear of my body and spreading my legs slightly a part with the force and care of a determined lover.

Smaller, colder tentacles the width of my fingers emerged from the waters and gently stroked my entrance - the suddenness and the low temperature had me writhing but the thicker tentacles stopped me from shifting too far from its touch.

Like tongues they flicked slowly against my now pulsing clitoris, heat resting heavy at the bottom of my stomach like a sunken stone. My head threw back in bliss and as my mouth parted to let out a moan a tentacle head filled my mouth - the head was slightly longer than those which had made themselves a home around my wrists and much thicker than those which currently were lapping at my swollen clit.

My mind was in a haze, nipples hardening against my shirt as my eyes oscilated between staring at the sentient monster or the stary firmament above.

I could feel my body becoming hotter, desperate for more contact as i began to push myself closer towards the small tendrils in spite of the tight grip they had on me.

As if sensing my eagerness the beast emerged more tentacles now wrapping around my large breasts, squeezing on them and instantly wetting my shirt. If not for the appendage humming pleasantly in my mouth i have no doubts i would be moaning loud enough to alert the guards.

As if attempting to milk me the tentacles grew more ferocious with their onslaught on my chest, pulling and squeezing till the white buttons popped off my shirt and into the night waters. Rushing forward smaller tentacles once again arose now pressing against my nipples the cold sensation doing nothing for my sweltering internal body temperature.

please, please, please,please, please, please, please, please, please,please, please, please, please, please, please,please, please, please, please, please, please,please, please, please, please, please, please,please, please, please, please, please, please,please, please, please please, please, please,please, please, please, please, please, please,please, please, please

My mind repeated over and over and over, each plea cluttering my mind till my brain was nothing but a palimpet of want and desire. Thankfully the creature from below was one of compassion.

In front of me the tentacle which once nudged against my nipples opened like a blossoming flower with five petal like shapes and in the centre a white glow, whiter than the sclera of an eye or the color of a cloud no this was a white that almost blinded me almost as white as the sun itself or atleast surrounded by the dark night mind and eyes clouded by lust it was.

They forged forward attaching themselves on my nipples sucking on them like the wet, endless cavity they were before the ones which once flicked against my clit did the same.

The waves on the water began to stir pushing and pulling the fabric of itself apart, before one final tentacle emerged. The appendage sporuted from the water till the tip reached far above my head, floating in front of me the out of water length must have been half my height. Aside from its length it was thicker than all the others by far, the thickness of it being comparable to my (still bound) wrists.

Slowly it bent down before sliding along the metal grounds of the sector nudging against my thighs as it slithered from side to side though still pluging forward like a snake, it was then that i understood its plan

It meant to be inside of me.

It stopped just outside my entrance, gently prodding and nudging again my tight opening, against the tentacle in my mouth i let out a tiny whimper eager and wanting.

Galvanised by my voice coated and dripping in hot want and sticky desire the tentacles holding my thighs and arms lifted me up into the air so i was floating above the metal and the water.

Then i felt it press against me, forcing its way in, as the movements of the tendredals on my breasts and clitoris began sucking more volatile with the tentacles around my breasts squeezing still at even pace, unceasing and unwavering.

Finally it pushed itself in me pressing tightly against my walls but still everceasing in its pursuit - from this angle i could see it losing itself in me and the bulge of my stomach as it pressed inside me.

It was all too much, too much pressure inside of me and outside of me and not to mention the sounds:

The wet squelching, the constant hum of its skin, the disrupted water thrashing against the creature, and my own dampened moans.

As if sensing i was near the creature quickly removed it's appendage from my once filled hole before plunging in without even a beat of rest - my eyes widened and rolled to the back of my head as it repeated the process till i could feel the pressure building inside the appendage of the creature.

Then the the tentacles in my mouth began to mirror it, moving in and out my mouth though slightly more slowly still which each thrust going deeper till i felt it rest on the back of my mouth and then dip into my throat.

The tears which welled in my eyes spilled out over my face and ran down my blushed cheeks before falling silently joining the larger body of water.

I'd been trying so hard, to do or be what I don't know: to be good, to be quiet, to pay attention but in the end, all it took was two words, not even spoken just two telepathically echoed words:

Let go.

And my body was gently convulsing like electricity was being struck through every vein the heat that pooled in my stomach spread snd rushed throughout me - but the creature didn't stop, didn't show any signs of ceasing fucking into me past the point or orgasm and then past the point of overstimulation till it began to plunge more erratically with more fever and less elderitch strategy.

Then i felt the sensation of being filled, as it fucked into me a thick white but translucent substance was pushed into me filling my already swollen belly and then the same substance was filling my mouth.

Its taste was like the smell of rained earth and sugar cubes and fresh whole milk and lavender i swallowed it lapping it up. I felt it begin to retreat but the taste was addictive i began to suck on the appendage feeling it twitch relentlessly in my mouth though ultimately keeping its place inside me as i sucked and swallowed.

The tentacles and tendrils which once held their place on my breast and clitoris slowly pulled away back into the sea as the once which held my thighs and wrists lowered my gently onto the groud with my back against the metal.

I gave one last suck to the tentacle before allowing it to leave my warm, wet mouth and giving it a final lick.

I barely watched it sink back into the ocean, mind and body to fucked out to even think of moving instead content to stare up the flickering stars feeling the warm goo seep out of me as the slight bulge of my stomach deflated.

The last thing I heard before I submitted to the gentle daze of my inner world, and it submerged itself back into its underworld:

See you soon

[targaryenrealnessdarling]

What Grows in the Greenhouse

Summary: Ettore pushes her just that little bit too hard | Word Count: 2.3k~ | warnings: smut, dubcon, oral (f recieving), analingus, cum eating, degradation, sex pollen, just fucking filth

A/N: I was in a mood, please follow @ewanmitchellcrumbs sex pollen writing challenge! Had fun with this 😈 also two birds one stone, fulfilled this request.

Even here in the greenhouse, she could still hear the faint hum of the ship’s systems beneath the sound of clipping leaves and weeding. She was knelt in the dirt, gloves on, trowel in hand, doing the only thing that ever gave her some peace in this place. It was dirty work but quiet, safe. Unlike everything else on this floating coffin.

She knelt up on her knees, leaning over a rosebush, the thorns prickling her forearms as she reached for some soil she had yet to spread. Her eyes caught a glaring flash of orange from a cluster of flowers behind the tended ones. They'd been here since she started doing this little duty, untended and messy, with stems twisting in green and yellow, and their fleshy petals bursting in bright orange like a mouth with a dangerous red centre. It smelled sweet, almost chemical like.

Fuck knows what they were, she'd have to read up on them.

She almost let her curiosity get the better of her, before his voice made her heart fall out her arse.

“What are you doing?”

She needn't even see his face to realise there was a smirk on it. Annoyance bubbled in her gut at the mere sound of him, traipsing across her freshly tended to garden with a confidence that didn't seem earned.

“Working,” she answered without moving, “should try it sometime.”

He laughed, leaning against the workbench, arms crossed, like her annoyance tickled something inside of him. She glanced up, eyes narrowed. His chest was damp as if he'd just been to shower. She willed herself not to notice it.

“Have you come here just to annoy me?”

“Not specifically you,” he muttered through a grin, “but you're the only entertainment here so.”

She rolled her eyes, turning back to her flowers, “then go entertain yourself somewhere else.”

He scoffed, “entertain, huh?”

She ripped a weed out the soil just a fraction too hard, “yeah instead of— starting fights and tugging your tiny dick outside the communal showers.”

“Oh, so you do watch me?” He raised an eyebrow.

She sighed and pushed herself to her feet, pulling off her gloves and bracing herself for the smug expression on his face. “You are such a colossal twat.”

“Rich coming from you,” he spat back, pushing himself off the workbench, making her heart race just slightly. “You walk around here like you're not just another piece of crap like the rest of us, like your shit doesn't stink.”

“At least I actually do something useful around here,” she countered, throwing her gloves on the ground, “unlike you, stalking around like a feral mutt.”

His jaw tensed, but his smile stayed. It was unsettling, watching the way his eyes took her in, searching for the weak point. “You must be so fucking lonely. Touching yourself on your side of the wall, pretending you don't want someone to hear.”

“Go fuck yourself,” she shoved him, palms flat on his chest, and even though it barely moved him, the touch shocked him.

As if acting on pure instinct, he shoved her back, not quite knowing his own strength. She seemed to trip over her feet, hurtling arse first into the bed of bright orange flowers. It cushioned her fall just slightly, enough not to hurt. But it was the pollen that the flowers coughed out that disoriented her, sweet, cloying, hitting her nose all at once.

She blinked, and the air seemed to shimmer.

Heat curled in her belly, sudden and unwelcome. She felt her skin flush bright and needy, pupils widened and her heart racing against its natural rhythm. When she dragged in a breath, it only made it worse. Her nipples hardened under her shirt, painfully almost, and she pressed her thighs together to relieve the ache that formed heavy, to no avail.

“Fuck’s wrong with you?” Ettore furrowed his brows, watching her chest rise and fall from a new burst of aggression.

Her eyes raised to him when he spoke as if only just aware he was still there. A haze covered her vision. She could hear the beat of his heart, the rush of blood in his veins. And nothing else seemed to matter. Her lips parted.

Ettore took half a step back, “you good?”

Her eyes crackled with a near feral gleam as she scrambled to her feet, covered in soil and sticky pollen, and grabbed his shirt to crash her lips to his. It was sloppy, desperate, panting. And Ettore mumbled into her mouth, the strength of her grip surprising him and taking him off balance as his back met the workbench again.

“What the fuck?” he spoke against her lips when he could get air in, but she couldn't stop. Wouldn't. Her nerve ends were sparking and he was right here, warm and solid, exactly what her instincts were screaming for.

She moaned softly, pushing her hips to his, her other hand rubbing the growing hardness there recklessly. Her nails clawed under his shirt, leaving red little trials across his pale skin.

“Jesus—wait—” he muttered, grabbing her wrists. He was so used to being the one in control, he didn't like it one bit that he and his body was at the mercy of someone else, someone he hadn't expected to be so strong against him. He was half annoyed at himself for freezing up for so long.

But her lips found his throat, sucking and biting the sensitive skin, and his grip faltered. She was grinding against him now, dry fucking him like a mindless animal. Like she didn't care about anything else. She moved like she needed a primal closeness, like she needed to smell his natural sweat, feel the tackiness of his body against hers, but annoyingly all he smelt of was the dull powdery musk of the prison soap.

He could have pushed her off if he really wanted to. But maybe some part of him didn't. He swore under his breath, “you're high as fuck.”

Her voice was raw and needy, “I need—”, it came out more sob than a sentence, desperate. And fuck if it didn't make his cock twitch.

He pushed her back against with a cursed, ‘fuck’, her body landing once again amongst the orange flowers and another puff of shimmering pollen released around her, clinging to her skin like springy glitter. Her legs tried to catch around his waist, squirming for contact she didn't have yet, dragging him into the dirt with her as he fought to rid her of any clothing below her waist.

“You don't know what you're asking for,” he murmured, crowding her body with his, already pushing his sweatpants down to line himself up with her heat, pressing the blunt head of his cock against her slit.

She twisted beneath him, bucking her hips desperately, her fingers clawing at him with impatience, “shut up— please, just—”

He laughed, low and rough, enjoying the appearance of her like this, a way he'd never seen her before. The laugh died quickly when she grabbed his cock, hard enough to draw out a low hiss of part pain and pleasure.

“Easy,” he growled as she guided him to where she needed him most, her body feverish with the need to be fucked. Her glassy eyes met his, and without waiting Ettore pushed in with one brutal thrust, grabbing her face and swallowing the broken cry she let out with his lips. She clenched around him instantly, her nails creating welts in his back in a way that made his vision swim.

There was no gentleness. Ettore fucked her into the dirt, hips snapping forward and grinding her into the crushed petals beneath. Each thrust pushed out of her lungs and drove the pollen further into her bloodstream. The madness building without an idea of where it would end.

The dirt that had been on his fingers had smeared on her face as he grabbed her jaw, making her lips part, the moans falling out of them with abandon. Her thighs trembled, and he pulled out just enough to hear her whimper, before slamming back inside, deep, painful, as if he wanted to carve himself into her.

She gasped, weak and overstimulated, so close to that delicious high the pollen craved. And her stomach flipped as Ettore grabbed her thighs and lifted, forcing them up until her knees were nearly to her chest.

“Stay like that,” he ordered, positioning higher over her, “don't move.”

He folded her in half, pushing her body further, pinning her open and helpless. The position let him sink in even deeper, the angle making her cry out as he bottomed out with a brutal snap of his hips.

“Fuck,” he hissed through his teeth, watching her face twist with pleasure she couldn’t fight, “you feel that? You like this, don’t you? Getting ruined in the fucking dirt.”

She could barely speak now, just gasping, nodding, babbling nonsense between moans and whines. Her hands clawed at his arms, but she didn’t try to stop him. She wanted it. Needed it. Her body arched under his, sweat glistening, completely at his mercy. The slick sound of him driving into her echoed in the humid space, mixing with her breathless, broken cries.

He wrapped one hand around her throat, her pulse hammering beneath his fingers, “you gonna cum, just from me fucking you like this?” he muttered, eyes burning into hers, “like a bitch in heat?”

Her answer was a sob, her legs trembling in his grip as her walls spasmed around him, the orgasm ripping through her with force. She clenched so tight he could barely move, but he didn’t stop, he just kept going, chasing his own release with ruthless rhythm.

But just as he felt himself teetering on the edge, he pulled out, slow, deliberate, dragging a long, wet moan from her throat as he slipped free.

“No,” she whimpered, hips bucking up instinctively, trying to follow him, “don’t—please—”

He slapped her thigh, sharp enough to sting, “shut up,” he hissed.

She froze, panting, eyes wide as he knelt over her, fist around his cock, stroking himself hard and fast. She was spread out beneath him, ruined, legs still trembling, her sex soaked and twitching, glistening with slick and dirt and shame.

“Look at you,” Ettore muttered, his voice smug and cruel, “laid out like a fucking cum rag.”

With a final stroke, he came, hot, thick ropes spilling across her inner thighs and glistening slit, painting her skin in filthy, dripping streaks. Some of it landed just above her clit, sticky and warm, sliding down into the mess already coating her folds. She gasped, moaning at the sensation.

He rubbed the head of his cock along her sex, smearing his cum into her swollen lips, not bothering to be gentle. “Look at this pussy,” he sneered.

It was a sight he wanted to look at forever. Something stirred in his body, need. And it was slow at first, like a fever burning up. A wave of warmth that made his skin itch, made his pupils dilate. The scent in the air, the crushed petals, the sweat, the sex, it got thicker. He blinked, licked his lips, and his eyes dropped back to her.

She shifted slightly, letting her legs fall open further, exposing the full, glistening mess between them, like she wanted to show him, like the burning need still thrummed in her own blood. His cum still pooled on her folds, sliding down slowly.

That was it.

A groan tore out of his throat. Like an animal wounded. And he lunged forward.

She gasped when his hands gripped her thighs, rough and unrelenting, forcing them apart again. His mouth descended before she could even speak. No teasing. No warning. Just his tongue, hot and wet and starving, lapping at her like he was trying to devour her whole.

“Oh fuck—Ettore—!” she cried out, body jolting as his mouth sealed over her cunt.

He moaned against her, tongue thrusting between her folds, licking up the mix of cum and slick like it was the only thing that could satisfy this sudden, burning hunger. He licked deeper, rough and messy, tongue dragging through his own spend like it meant nothing, like he liked it. Every groan he let out vibrated through her, sending new shocks of pleasure down her spine.

He pulled her higher, pulling her body up so all her weight was on her shoulders and her legs over his. She was barely coherent now, sobbing and gasping, hips twitching as he tongue-fucked her, nosing up to her clit only to suck it harshly, then retreat to taste her deeper.

He dipped his head again, dragging his tongue back over her pussy, slow and indulgent, savouring the mess he’d made. But then, lower. Past her folds, past the soaked seam of her slit, down to the soft, untouched skin beneath.

Her breath hitched sharply.

Ettore smirked against her, licking a slow circle around her rim, deliberately filthy. Her body jolted, spine arching as she cried out, too far gone to stop him, too lost in the heat to care.

She screamed out as his hands spread her open, greedy and rough, holding her in place as he circled her tight hole, then pushed in, fucking her with his tongue with reckless abandon.

He licked deeper again, faster now, rutting into her with his tongue like he couldn’t stop. Her thighs were trembling violently, her voice reduced to moans that bordered on sobs. And still he held her open, still he feasted on her like it belonged to him.

She felt his cock against her body, had done since he'd abandoned fucking her altogether to fuck her with his tongue instead. Her mind was clouded with sex and lust, and she understood the same claws had sank into him too, when he began to spring to life again, pressed hard against her backside and grinding.

That's when she was unsure if she would leave the greenhouse whole. Whether clarity would come rushing in any moment now. But for now, lost in the yellowy cloud of pleasure and weightlessness, she could not find it in herself to care.

✨ Please note ✨ I no longer do taglists. If you would updates, please follow @targaryenrealnessdarlingfics and turn on notifications!

[ka2ki2]

3.2 SPOILERS / Theory on Flame Reaver's identity

EDIT: This has POSSIBLY been debunked. The Lord Ravager on Amphoreus is now implied to be Irontomb, who is fated to destroy the Erudition. I have also started wondering if this is really a trap at all, or if Irontomb has just found a spot in the cosmos outside of Nous's gaze to scheme without Nous realizing.

But at the same time.. the version is called "for the sun is set to die". So it's absolutely radiating Sun Devourer energy... and irontomb was confirmed active outside of amphoreus recently... I really don't know what to think!

Alternative idea which keeps my theory intact: Irontomb is trying to break Sun Devourer OUT of amphoreus

See: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=io9W-dvBTog

----

!!! 3.2 SPOILERS AHEAD !!! YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED!

As an Anaxagoras superfan, my mental health is presently in tatters. I'm trying to focus on the lore revelations to cope. So, let's review!

In the final mission of 3.2 (Witch's Mirrored Reversal), Lygus reveals that the third Path present on Amphoreus is The Destruction and that the planet imprisons a Lord Ravager. (Also, Lygus is our Erudition rep-- he's an Emanator!)

Additionally, our favorite blasphemer Anaxa proved his theory without a shadow of a doubt, revealing that the Titans are the Chrysos Heirs of the previous Amphoreus Cycle. Now, the popular fandom headcanon/theory was that Flame Reaver is Phainon from the previous cycle. However, we now know that the closest thing to "previous cycle Phainon" is actually Khaos, aka Kephale. We also know exactly where Khaos is- holding up the Dawn Device. He's busy holding the memories of the whole world.

So, maybe there's a previous-cycle Phainon separate from Khaos (who is technically not the same person in any form, he just the same role as Phainon), but I still think we have a much better candidate for our Flame Reaver's identity:

The Lord Ravager.

Now that I've put this idea in your head, let's move away from Flame Reaver and instead focus on the Lord Ravager. Which Ravager is the one imprisoned on Amphoreus? (Hint: I know already)

Conveniently, the Xianzhou Alliance has a list of all the ravagers. We can outright eliminate a good chunk of them.

phantylia (she was present on the xianzhou loufu)

zulo (dead at the hands of galaxy rangers)

irontomb (mentioned active in IPC broadcast)

Male Voice: The industrial planet Baranza Forge has been crippled by an attack from the Lord Ravager "Irontomb," impacting the production of Synesthesia Beacons.

zephyro (mentioned active in IPC broadcast)

Female Voice: The Lord Ravager, Zephyro, was spotted at the Tia'nua galaxy. According to the Mourning Actors, that galaxy has been completely destroyed.

celenova (mentioned active in IPC broadcast)

Male Voice: Recently, traces of the Lord Ravager Celenova have appeared at the edges of the Sedounirama star cluster.

So, all these Ravagers are either active too recently to be imprisoned or straight-up dead. Our three remaining candidates are...

"Chess Grandmaster", who likes to take things slow and observe dying civilizations like they're an ant colony

a completely unnamed ravaged associated with antimatter

"Sun Devourer", a solo ravager who eats stars. The Antimatter Legion follows the trail of No Light to go pillage the worlds Sun Devourer plunged into darkness.

Of these three candidates, I feel the best is Sun Devourer.

Himeko mentions that Amphoreus is indeed a "star system", meaning that there is or should be some kind of external sun.

Himeko: Then this isolated star system must have been home to at least three beings comparable to Emanators.

However, Amphoreus's light doesn't come from a star. In the past, it came from Aquila, the Eye of Twilight. In the present, only Okhema has light, which comes from the Dawn Device forged by Aquila and Kephale.

I don't think it's a stretch to suggest that Sun Devourer has eaten whatever star Amphoreus revolves around, which is why the Titans had to create a sun for the planet.

Additionally, Sun Devourer is a sufficiently isolated Ravager. They don't travel with the antimatter legion; instead, the legion follows the trail of darkness/eaten stars and pillages those worlds. If Sun Devourer was imprisoned, they would not have had the antimatter legion with them at the time. Most other Ravagers act more as generals or troop commanders in some way, meaning they wouldn't easily go missing unbeknownst to anyone.

As for why the other two candidates don't work as well...

Lygus reveals the existence of the Ravager with this quote: "You will break the shackles of a Lord Ravager, and when that happens, their fury will engulf the Cosmos." Mr. "Chess Grandmaster" is described as calm and composed, so I couldn't see him reacting with "fury".

As for the antimatter-connected Ravager...

Ecologists from the Luofu's Realm-Keeping Commission once researched a strange world that has completely been converted into antimatter. All antimatter objects hurtle toward their matter counterparts, releasing a destructive dazzle upon impact. Antimatter Legion Creations have always had distorted, twisted appearances. When destroyed, many instantly implode with an intense backfire, dragging their enemy along with them to their destruction.

Their abilities involve converting matter into antimatter, which leads to explosions and implosions. We don't see any phenomenon like this prevalent on Amphoreus.

So, great! We've decided that Sun Devourer is the one imprisoned on Amphoreus. Let's look closely at two likely manifestations of Destruction on the planet: the Black Tide and Flame Reaver.

Now, in the Seat of Divine Foresight, a helpful file describes certain phenomena surrounding Sun Devourer's star consumption:

a lot of the vacuum spaces in the Yvanna chain were filled by an unidentified light-absorbing flocculent material

(For those like me who didn't know what flocculent means, I'll define it as "loosely clumped". Not that important, anyway.)

Methinks this substance may be similar to the Black Tide.

It's black! :D ...Yeah that's all I have for that. Let's move on from this embarrassing tangent and go back to Flame Reaver.

So, the game stats that Flame Reaver's origins are unknown, but they 'came with the Black Tide'. This is their only explicit connection in the game.

A nameless swordmaster who came with the black tide

(It also mentions some Destruction-esque properties for his swords, hehe)

Within their swords, madness and obsession entwine

Flame Reaver's voice lines also mention chains and torment, suggesting that the Reaver is trapped.

 Still... chained.. Defiant... break the chains!

And one of their voice lines mention drowning a sun! I feel that's not too far removed from devouring one.

Sanguine darkness... drown the sun!‍

Aside from this, when Flame Reaver attacked Aedes Elysiae, there was a “blood-red half-sun” in the sky.

Phainon: A blood-red half-sun hung in the sky, just like on that day. And before my eyes, that murderer...

There’s probably many other bits of evidence, but I feel this is enough to substantiate the idea. So, TLDR:

The Lord Ravager on Amphoreus is Sun Devourer

The Black Tide is due to that Ravager’s presence and destructive powers (they make a substance that absorbs all light)

Flame Reaver is either a manifestation of the Ravager, or is the Ravager themselves. They’re trying to escape Amphoreus

And now for a few other related notes which I found interesting:

One of Flame Reaver’s voice lines:

This world... is a fallen leaf.

In the context of Honkai Impact 3rd’s imaginary tree/sea of quanta world structure (which is canonically present in HSR as well), a leaf would be a world/universe. If it falls, it becomes something of a bubble universe in the sea of quanta. This is what many people suspect Teyvat from Genshin is— a world only kept safe from the abyss / Sea of Quanta / corrupt data outside via a firmament. And what do you know, Amphoreus has its own firmament, and a massive amount of parallels to Teyvat…

Also, about one particular Lord Ravager— Zephyro!

So, we know Zephyro isn’t the one stuck on Amphoreus. He’s been active recently. However, he has a bunch of coincidences with Amphoreus. His name comes in part from zeyphrus, the **greek god of the west wind**. in amphoreus, the place at the end of the west wind is death! very strong contender, especially since ampho also has greek inspirations. (it also comes from pyro meaning fire) (flaaame? reaver?)

Zephyro’s chinese name also references zephyrus through a complicated series of connections.

焚风 Fénfēng, "burning wind", is used in meteorology to refer to a Foehn wind- a kind of rain shadow wind. the name Foehn comes from Favonius, aka the roman word for Zephyrus!

other things... apparently, when zephyrus destroyed wen-II, they only left behind a broken flower

However, everything ended the moment the Lord Ravager Zephyro arrived. What followed was the fire of a supernova exploding. When the light faded and the Legion left, only a single broken flower showed that history once existed among the now-empty dust plains.

And what do you know, the place where Amphoreans go when they die is a field of flowers.

This would thematically connect Zephyro to Thanatos more than the Black Tide, though. Still, it’s a weird connection.

Anyway, that’s all for now! I’ll close off by linking some of the relevant in-game text.

[techhiz]

Hi techhiz-chan can I request for tfp optimus with femme s/o in the scrapheap episode where she went to the Arctic with him instead of arcee.and can you maybe when she confess her feelings to him.

Frozen Confessions.

The Arctic air was biting, even for Cybertronians. The barren expanse stretched endlessly in all directions, its icy winds howling as if the planet itself disapproved of their presence. Optimus Prime’s tall, imposing frame moved with determination, the snow crunching under his pedes. Beside him walked you, his long-time companion and fellow Autobot.

The mission was straightforward: retrieve a Cybertronian relic detected by Ratchet’s scanners. However, being in Optimus’ presence always had a way of making the most mundane tasks feel monumental.

But today was different. Today, you were determined to do something you hadn’t been able to muster the courage for before.

The two of you trudged through the Arctic wasteland, the silence only broken by the occasional crackling of your comms and the low rumble of the wind.

"Ratchet's last coordinates placed the relic somewhere within this glacier," Optimus said, his deep, commanding voice carrying effortlessly over the howling wind.

"Understood," you replied, your optics scanning the horizon. Despite the freezing environment, you found a strange warmth in being beside him.

Optimus paused, his gaze shifting to you. "Are you feeling alright? These conditions are harsh, even for us."

"I’m fine, Optimus," you reassured, offering him a small smile. "I’ve been through worse."

His optics softened for a moment, the faintest flicker of concern crossing his features before he nodded and continued forward.

As the two of you approached a cavernous opening in the ice, a faint energy signature pulsed from deep within. The relic was close. But with it came an ominous feeling you couldn’t shake.

"Be cautious," Optimus warned, his tone firm but gentle.

"I always am," you teased lightly, trying to ease the tension.

The two of you entered the cavern, your optics adjusting to the dim light as the relic’s glow grew stronger. It rested atop a pedestal of ice, its energy crackling faintly.

"Ratchet’s scanners were correct," Optimus said. "The relic is—"

Before he could finish, the ground beneath your pedes gave way, sending both of you tumbling into the icy depths below.

When you landed, the impact sent a jolt through your frame, but it was manageable. Optimus, as always, recovered quickly, extending a servo to help you up.

"Are you injured?" he asked, his tone laced with concern.

"Just my pride," you joked, taking his servo.

As you stood, the two of you realized you were in an ice-enclosed chamber, the walls shimmering with the faint blue glow of the relic, now out of reach.

"We’ll need to find another way up," Optimus said, scanning the area.

"Optimus," you began, your voice softer now, "can I... say something?"

He turned to you, his optics steady and patient. "Of course."

You hesitated, your spark racing. This wasn’t how you envisioned confessing your feelings, but perhaps the isolation of the Arctic offered the perfect opportunity.

"I’ve been meaning to tell you..." you started, your optics locking with his. "I—"

Before you could finish, the ground trembled, and a cluster of Vehicons burst into the chamber, their weapons drawn.

Optimus wasted no time, drawing his blaster and shielding you as the Vehicons opened fire.

"Stay close!" he commanded, his voice unwavering.

You nodded, drawing your own weapon and joining the fight. The confined space made movement difficult, but Optimus fought with precision and strength, his presence as inspiring as ever.

As the last Vehicon fell, you found yourself pinned against the wall by debris, your systems sparking slightly.

"Y/N!" Optimus rushed to your side, his optics scanning you for injuries.

"I’m okay," you assured, though your voice wavered.

He knelt beside you, his servo gently brushing against your arm as he helped free you. "You were saying something earlier," he reminded, his tone softer now.

Your spark hammered in your chassis as you looked into his optics. The words were on the tip of your glossa, but fear threatened to hold you back.

"I... I wanted to tell you that I care about you," you said finally, your voice trembling. "More than just as a fellow Autobot. You’ve always been someone I admire, but it’s more than that. I think... I love you."

For a moment, there was only silence. The weight of your confession hung in the air, and you braced yourself for his response.

Optimus’ optics softened, his expression unreadable yet gentle. "Y/N," he began, his voice low and earnest, "I have spent eons focused solely on the war, on protecting others... But you have reminded me that there is more to existence than duty. Your courage, your kindness, your unwavering spark... I care for you deeply."

Your optics widened in surprise, warmth flooding your circuits.

"Though I may not always be able to express it, know that you mean more to me than words can convey," he continued, his servo lightly touching yours.

Before you could respond, Optimus leaned in, his lips brushing against yours in a kiss that was both tender and full of unspoken promises.

The world seemed to fade away, leaving only the two of you in that frozen chamber. When the kiss ended, he rested his forehead against yours, his optics glowing softly.

"You have given me something I never thought I would find again," he said quietly. "Hope."

With newfound resolve, the two of you worked together to retrieve the relic and escape the icy depths. As you emerged back into the Arctic night, the stars above seemed brighter, as if they too celebrated the bond you had forged.

Optimus looked at you, his optics shining with a rare warmth. "We still have a long road ahead," he said, "but I am grateful to have you by my side."

"Always," you replied, a smile tugging at your lips.

The Arctic winds howled around you, but neither of you felt the cold anymore. Together, you were stronger—ready to face whatever challenges lay ahead.

[clanwarrior-tumbly]

Would you be willing to write something with MXES where the reader wears the mask and sees MXES but isn’t afraid of them, and maybe Helpy is urging the reader to run, or deactivate the system but they’re curious about this big scary bunny… hopefully no animatronics get called to the scene if their interaction…

-glitch phone

"Erm, I'd advise that you RUN away from the Entity. You should not approach it under any circumstances!"

Ignoring Helpi's constant warnings of danger, curiosity overtook and and all instincts to flee as you walked close to M.X.E.S, still wearing the security mask. You weren't all that scared of it, instead wanting to have a better look.

The tall and sinister-looking black hare just stared down at you, tilting its head. It, too, was curious about your intentions.

While its purpose was to stop you from tampering with the parent node behind you, it couldn't help but wonder why you turned away from your task the second you felt its presence.

For whatever reason...you weren't freaking out despite it sending Monty after you once before.

You barely got away without getting your ankles bitten off by that feral gator!

You knew very well it could summon him again, but you weren't scared at all.

Pocketing the Faz Wrench, you stopped and waved your hand, awkwardly smiling at the entity. "Hello, there." You spoke, surprised by the brief disappearance of its usual grin, as though your actions confused it entirely.

But it then waved back, before disappearing into a cluster of glitches, vanishing from your sight altogether.

Suddenly, you heard an awful static noise and turned around to see it now mere inches from your face, its grin returning and looking wider than ever.

You winced slightly as you felt another migraine coming on...no thanks to you wearing the mask for so long.

Yet besides that...you didn't scream or flinch.

M.X.E.S thought for sure that little scare would've intimidated you enough to back away from the node. Maybe then it wouldn't have to call an animatronic to your location, and you'll leave the Pizzaplex's systems alone.

It's grown unusually protective over them, even though you were authorized to use the mask and access the AR world.

For a few moments, you had an intense staring contest, unsure of who was going to do what.

But you only became further fascinated by this creature the longer you gazed upon it. You had no clue which one of your coworkers designed it, but...they sure did a hell of a job making it look so real despite being a simulation.

Then you wondered something...and it was something you hoped to try.

And wanted to try something.

Helpi kept babbling inside your brain that making direct contact with the Entity would likely result in "death and dismemberment", adding the company wasn't responsible for that should it happen. You just rolled your eyes, knowing he didn't need to remind you of that shitty excuse of a "policy".

Instead, you slowly reached out to M.X.E.S' face, surprised when your hand rested on its muzzle. You could feel cold steel, fur, wiring, and static buzzing beneath your fingertips.

Although it couldn't see it, your eyes were wide in awe, and you had a huge smile that nearly rivaled the one on the mask.

This entity was solid. It was a creature you could actually touch, now that you were both on the same plane of existence.

Its eyes widened, yet it didn't react violently or fearfully...it simply remained perfectly still, allowing your hands to roam and pet it.

"Oh wow..haha.." You laughed softly, bringing both hands to the sides of its jaw. "Didn't expect you to be so soft and cuddly. You take after Bonnie well, huh?"

M.X.E.S isn't sure what overcame its programming in that moment, but...it began to like your touch.

It's never known gentle hands, not even from its own maker, until now.

That alone caused it to abandon its current directive as its shoulders relaxed, closing its eyes with content. Then it leaned its head down slightly so you could gently rub its ears--which were also made of metal and fur and static.

Shrinking its size down a bit enabled you to fully cradle its head in your arms, and you smiled, looking over at the glowing blue bunny node that stared back at you.

Meanwhile, Helpi had gone radio silent, much to your relief. That little bear probably crashed because this scenario was so unexpected, so unusual that he simply couldn't compute.

You silently chuckled at that thought, deciding that you'll stay like this for a little while.

The parent node didn't really need maintenance, anyways.

[in1-nutshell]

Hello! Sorry for not piping in for a while! I’m not sure if your request is open at the moment, but do you mind doing a TFP Starscream opposite personality daughter? I am not sure if you have done one like this yet. If so let me know and I would check it out. Like you know, a daughter who is exceptionally calm, considerate, intelligent, and wants no power whatsoever, even if given to her, and just want to have a lovely little spaceship where she can travel in freely and explore. It can be a nutshell summary of this character if you would like. One thing I do ask is to give her a name please because almost all daughter buddies got names.

Hi! Great to hear from you again!

I'm going to treat this as a 'Nutshell Summary' since the request are still closed.

Time to add another daughter to the list.

(I really need to make that)

In a nutshell...

Star Cluster was nothing like Starscream.

Truly one of the greater mysteries in Decpeticon history.

There isn't much about her true heritage in the Decepticon database. Not that Starscream would ever put the true version of her information in the main system, instead opting to carry it around with him or locking it in his habsuite.

The little one was filled to the brim with energy and curiosity of the unknown. Always wanting to go out and travel around.

Starscream has lost count how many times he has caught her staring outside the windows of the Nemesis or being the first to go out on a scouting mission with the others.

He does love her and shows it in his own way, maybe not in the best way, but she appreciates that he is at least trying.

To his dismay, Star Cluster is one of Megatron's most loyal Decepticon's.

Megatron truly doesn't know how she can even call that traitorous snake her father.

Does he use her to get away with things?

Yes.

Does he regret it?

No.

[nightcolorz]

Batman villains are the goat bcus like 99% of them are children who were abused in extremely horrific but also extremely aesthetically relevant ways that inspire them to develop a very stupid drag persona that they use to preform elaborate crimes and shit and it’s awesome bcus the implication is that Gotham has such absurdly shit systematic problems related to how they treat mentally ill ppl that their is an epidemic of queer dudes with cluster b disorders going by names like Clock man (his dad used to bash his head in with a clock so he’s trying to process that by infecting gothams waters with clock poison) and instead of trying to investigate the root of why every mentally ill person in Gotham becomes a violent criminal and maybe working to offer resources that combat this (or at least strengthening their efforts to investigate child abuse bcus dude) every politician in Gotham is like let’s throw clock man and his fucked up faggot friends in Arkham Crazy House for Bad People where we put them in straight jackets and give them lobotomies that’ll definitely end crime. And then a guy in bdsm leather shows up and he’s like I’m faggot Zorro and crime killed my family I’m going to beat the shit out of clock man for ruining Gotham and the justice system is like well this seems to be the most effective resource we have in solving the guys in drag poison our waters problem thank u faggot zorro for bringing back order and reason 🙏

[arcana-greenleaf]

Hi! I was wondering if I could request a Garrett one shot with a reader who struggles with sensory issues? Such as they get overwhelmed by being in crowds?

Just read ur other Garret posts and I absolutely LOVE them!

Thank you!!!

Hello!! Thank you for requesting and for the love on my other posts! I truly hope you like this one as well :) I wanted to really focus on the experience of being in a crowd and highlight the small gestures I think Garrett would do to help calm you. Feel free to reach out with thoughts, feedback or anything you'd like to see next <3 Enjoy!

The bustling marketplace stretched endlessly before you, alive with a relentless energy that set your nerves on edge. People moved in every direction weaving between vendor stalls and clustered groups. Their voices rose in an overwhelming cacophony of haggling, laughter, and distant music. The sheer force of it pressed against your senses. The once-pleasant aromas of fresh pastries, ripe fruit, street food, and blooming flowers blended into an overwhelming mix, leaving you slightly nauseous. Your breathing quickened, shallow and uneven. You had expected this to be difficult, being in crowds always was, but you wanted to try. You had told yourself that this time would be different, that you would prepare, that you would try and brace yourself against the creeping anxiety that came with too much stimulation. Garrett had hesitated when you first mentioned the idea. His keen golden eyes scanned your face, searching for any sign of doubt. After you reassured him and said you’d let him know if it became too much, he nodded and offered you his hand in silent agreement.

Now, standing in the middle of the crowded street, his cold hand was the only thing keeping you grounded.

His grip was firm but careful as his thumb traced slowly over your knuckles. It was enough, at first. You tried your best to focus on steadying your breath with some simple breathing exercises as you cautiously moved further into the crowd. Garrett never let go, never rushed you. But the marketplace was relentless. The crowd pressed in even closer, brushing against you from all sides. Each accidental touch sent an electric jolt through your system. Strangers’ voices tangled together and their words lost all meaning. Your pulse thrummed in your ears, loud and insistent, matching the rhythmic clatter of footsteps against cobblestone. You tightened your grip on Garrett’s hand, fingers trembling slightly. He, of course, noticed immediately. His free hand settled gently against your lower back. “You with me?” His voice was low and quiet against the noise, meant only for you. You could only nod since your throat felt tight as if speaking would shatter what little control you had left. Garrett didn’t push. He just shifted closer, shielding you from the worst of the crowd. His broad frame provided a barrier thus lessening the impact of jostling bodies. He started guiding you toward the edge of the street, away from the densest part of the market. “Hey.” His voice was steady, calm. “We’re stepping out. Come on.” He didn’t wait for a response as he knew you couldn’t give one right now. Instead, he simply continued moving you away from the chaos. The moment the noise softened, the moment the crowd wasn’t pressing against you anymore, you felt your lungs start to work properly again. When you stepped into an empty side alley your skin buzzed with lingering overstimulation as you leaned onto the cool wall. You were still on edge but at least now you could breathe. One step at a time. Garrett stayed close, his hand never left yours. He didn’t speak right away. He just waited. It was something you had always appreciated about him. He never rushed you through moments like these, never made you feel like you had to justify your reactions. He understood, in a way that very few people did, that sometimes words weren’t needed immediately. After several deep breaths you finally turned to face him. His golden eyes were unwavering, completely fixated on you. He lifted a hand, waiting for silent permission before gently brushing a strand of hair from your face. His touch was deliberate, careful, meant to ground rather than startle. “Better?” he murmured. You nodded slowly, though your fingers were still curled into fists at your sides. The tension lingering in your muscles. Garrett took both of your hands in his, once again rubbing light circles over your palms with his thumbs. The repetitive motion slowly eased the remnants of anxiety. It was a small thing, but it worked. “Take your time,” he said, and you knew he meant it. You exhaled, shaky but much steadier than before. “I tried.” “I know.” His lips quirked slightly. “You did good.” Your throat tightened at the sincerity in his voice. “I wanted to last longer.” Garrett shook his head, still tracing those soothing patterns against your skin. “You lasted as long as you needed to.” The weight of his words settled deep in your chest making you warm inside. You squeezed his hands offering a silent thank you. Garrett responded by bringing one of your hands to his lips, pressing a brief kiss against your knuckles. “Next time,” he said, his voice lighter now, “we’ll find a quieter place. Less overwhelming. More you.” You nodded, letting the last remnants of tension drain from your shoulders. After a few more minutes you broke the silence. "Thank you," you whispered again, more for yourself than for him. Garrett’s gaze softened, and he leaned in, his forehead lightly brushing against yours. “No need to thank me. I’m not going anywhere.” His words were simple, but they held so much weight, so much promise. You let yourself believe them, because with him you knew that this was something you could hold onto. And maybe, just maybe, you were starting to believe you could open up even more, without fear.

[ideas-4-stories]

One piece story idea where Buggy has had medical issues since he was a baby, but most of them went unknown, undiagnosed, or not caught early enough to "make a difference".

Buggy with an autoimmune disorder of some kind (leaning to fibromayalgia bc I love projecting on my baby blue blorbo, but also the overactive nerves would tie in nicely with his devil fruit)

Buggy with hypermobility at the very least, possible Ehlers Danlos Syndrome, but it's damn near impossible to properly diagnose due to his DF and the tech available by and large.

On the Oro Jackson, few genuinely believed when Buggy would say something hurt or felt wrong or when he was more foggy headed than usual. Shanks could always read him like an open book. Roger could hear the changes in his youngest's Voice. Crocus did the best he could, but his options were limited and his attention was split. It was Roger, Rayleigh and Shanks who were Buggy's main support system.

Roger absolutely cried the first time Buggy got injured in a big fight and casually relocated a joint with just a soft hiss. That alone had been jarring, but Buggy's response to Shanks' worried question of "are you okay, does it hurt-," left the captain biting back tears. How else is a father supposed to feel when his little boy simply rolls hod eyes and says "not much more than normal"

When Roger disbanded the crew, the plan was to leave the boys on Drum. It had good doctors, Buggy would get more support, and it was rarely an island under siege due to the medical renown it had. They of course did not tell the boys as such, and it was only through a series of wacky events that lead Kureha to meeting them and taking a liking to their sparks. Shanks wasn't the most interested in medicine but he learned some things, specifically first aid and some things to help Buggy. He actually found psychology pretty interesting when he had the patience and attention span to spare. Buggy on the other hand took to it all like a fish to water.

They were there for almost two years when the newspaper was delivered and both boys lost their SHIT when the headline announced the execution of their captain, their father. Kureha sent them off, arguably with more supplies than they needed, and gave them her Denden number to reach her if they needed anything at all. She couldn't go with them, but she refused to send them truly alone.

They have their fight in the plaza, but it doesn't end with a monumental break up. They meet back up the next day, and they bite the bullet together and talk.

They take some time to come to a decision moving forward.

They ultimately decide to go with the co-captain avenue but with careful misdirection and smoke and mirrors. To the world at large, they will seem completely independent and unrelated. In truth, they will be leveraging their independent skills to further themselves and each other. The brains and brawn, as it were.

It works out in their favor for a good deal of time until the cluster fuck that is marineford. Secrets are out, identities revealed, and Buggy is having 6395716 panic attacks stacked up like Legos.

He and Shanks roll with it as best they can, trying to salvage what they feasibly could.

Two years later, Cross Guild is formed and begins rolling. Buggy's crew knows of his illnesses/disabilities, but he has a strict set up to address them. It's on a need to know basis.

Crocodile and Mihawk just so happened to swirl in like a hurricane and never got the memo until there was an attack on the island.

Somehow, someway, Buggy got absolutely soaked in sea water, but he's still fighting, knives in hand, bobbing and weaving with a trail of blood in his wake. It's as he pivots to lunge that Mihawk catches sight of him suddenly paling, a minute flinch, but beyond that, Buggy doesn't react, instead throwing the knife, reaching down and making a strange move at his knee before he cringed, took a sharp inhale, and dove back into the fray.

Upon asking why, hours later in the meeting tent, the swordsman and mafioso present blink when Buggy shrugs and says "oh, my knee cap tried to dislocate. Couldn't disconnect with the sea water so I had to push it back by hand."

"Pardon?"

"Hm?" Buggy glances up from where he's brushing some dried remnants of the battle from his locks, one eye shut against the debris. "What?"

"What caused the injury? I did not see any attacks to your legs in the chaos."

"Oh, it just happens sometimes," Buggy says casually, as if this were knowledge the other two ought to know. "I'm used to it."

They are not sure what to do, nor how to respond. They let it rest for the time being but they do keep a closer eye on their chairman following this.

They learn Buggy is rather adept at working with and around his unusual burdens, either disconnecting a joint or alleviating pressure on it until it can be addressed, even chop-chopping the offending area back to the proper place. They catch sight, now that they know to look, of hints of braces, wraps, the way Buggy occasionally presses his iced drink to a knee, a wrist, on an ankle in movements familiar but exceedingly casual, never belying their true purpose.

It is then that the two dark haired men realize there is much more to their clown than they first assumed.

I agree that overactive nerves would tie nicely with his Devil Fruit. Buggy having medical issues that went unknown, undiagnosed, or wasn’t caught early enough would make sense after all if the HC that Buggy was with the Roger Pirates as a baby or even if he wasn’t with them during his infant stage. These are pirates, how are they supposed to know that they need to look for things that could be wrong with the two babies they now have?

I’m sure some of them have things that have went unknown and undiagnosed. Anyway, back to Buggy, I had to look up Ehlers Danlos Syndrome because I didn't know what it was. I agree that it would be nearly impossible to diagnose properly because of no good tech around, as well as the fact he is on a pirate crew, I assume for the most pirate crews they don't stick around island for very long. I HC that Buggy swallowed the Bara Bara Fruit when he was nine.

Poor Buggy, I want to think that more people on the crew understood that Buggy has problems but didn’t how they could help him. Because acting like Buggy was fragile would make Buggy become angry because kid doesn’t want to be treated like that.

Poor Roger, having to watch that without saying anything, with all the other times it happened. Then after he disbanded the crew. Leaving them on Drum Island is a good choice and it makes sense that they didn’t tell the boys (I feel like they don’t tell the boys many things that should of been talked about, but this might be a good thing they didn’t say anything about. But who knows)

I wonder what the series of wacky events were to the meeting between them and Kureha? To me, they seemed like it there in this AU.

I think anyone would lose their shit if they see someone, they really love is getting murdered in front of so many people. I feel that Kureha only let them go because she knew they would go anyway, and this way let’s her give Buggy and Shanks the supplies they need.

I believe that with all the stress and pain of losing someone they hold dear in their hearts. I think Buggy wasn’t in the right mind set nor was Shanks in a way. Anyway, Love that they came back around to talk about it. I think the smoke & mirrors co-captain route they have… or is it more like Buggy and Shanks are allies? They have their own crews, but they still have each.

Then Marineford happened, poor Buggy and Shanks. I hope in this AU that Ace lives, but it was never stated so I don't know.

The idea that Buggy's crew knows about his illnesses/disabilities makes me feel that his followers would say he so strong to overcome them or we just talking about Buggy's crew from East Blue. Then yeah, those folks definitely know about his illnesses/disabilities.

Mihawk and Crocodile coming in without any knowledge and it took a battle to find out. I can see Buggy is nonchalantly about it as Mihawk did a doubletake when he said ‘Pardon?’ Crocodile did a doubletake too, because with those two didn’t know.

Once Crocodile and Mihawk know about what’s going on with Buggy, they see that the signs were always there. It’s just they didn’t paid attention to those signs, but they are.

[thelongestway]

Very-very tired for many reasons, but I made it with a very rough draft of the next chapter, ahaha. :P (Do not write near 4000 words in one sitting and stop on a tricky moment, that will block you!)

Very rough because I am very sleepy, will see about editing etc tomorrow.

Edit: Well, it took two days, but I basically added another half-chapter here in the beginning, and will need to quit fiddling with this by now - I'm growing pretty blind to the damn thing! I think I'll leave this one for the edits afterwards and move on.

Chapter 30: Preparations

Preparing for the war game was sort of like preparing for the hacker's game, except I wouldn't have ART with me, and I didn't have the option of just waiting out the opposition until they gave up. (Though letting the humans wear themselves out and then just walking past them would probably have made for a really effective tactic. But we were on a time limit.)

Instead, I waited for the humans to finish their preparations and answered the occasional polite tap from Dandelion, who was helping Aspen weave my outputs into their simulation system and wanted me to test if something was working or not. (Dandelion probably didn't need to help them. She did anyway.)

Aspen was standing next to me, hands folded on their chest, looking at the entrance to their old body and lost in thought. When they noticed my drone pausing next to them, they looked up and gave it a quizzical glance.

"Is everyone in your family out of the simulation area?" I asked.

"Yes, all out safely. Which wasn't hard--it's not like anyone's home much during a Meet anyway. But we'll need to make sure people aren't underfoot during the actual transfer, so this is good practice."

"Yeah. A hostage situation is the last thing this scenario needs."

They nodded. "It's a lot harder for four people to attack a massive gathering watched over by a station than just take someone isolated in their quarters. We can't link Note in to keep track of everyone with main systems down. But they can keep watch over a specific area."

We waited. I stood still (there weren't any chairs in the access corridor we were in), and Aspen paced--two steps forward, two steps back. Then they stopped in front of the old Courageous' wall and leaned back on it, frowning and looking up. Like they were talking to themselves.

"It sucks, though," they finally said, familiar bitterness in their voice. "This entire thing. I wish this wasn't how I had to say goodbye to them."

"What do you mean? Your cluster isn't coming with you?"

"They can't come. You'd be surprised how small of a cutting and stimulus you need to regrow the same synnerve patterns. I know my cluster too well. Having them with me would defeat the entire point of trying to retrain me on a whole new synnerve system."

I had a brief mental image of ART having to leave its humans behind if it wanted to be a station. (For some reason. I backburnered the thought too quickly to figure out exactly what reason.)

"How long is that going to take?"

"It's anyone's guess at this point. But we're looking at months or years. Maybe decades," they looked away, chewing on their lip. I wasn't monitoring their performance reliability or emotional instability or whatever, but I could bet it took a hit.

Stop borrowing grief from the future, Aspen, Dandelion said matter-of-factly, sending us her latest piece of code, designed to register fake outputs from my energy weapons.

"That's my entire job," they grumbled as they double-checked the code and implemented it on their end.

Dandelion retorted: No, your entire job right now is to get through the transfer intact. The rest is for others to handle.

Aspen snorted quietly, but I could see them smiling again as they refocused on their work. (They were also working on their own code, which Dandelion checked.) Both ships didn't talk much about it. They just sent each other snippets, picking up where the other left off seamlessly.

(Seeing them work together like that gave me a weird emotion. I backburnered it before I accidentally started bothering Aspen about it.)

Instead, I implemented my part, then tapped Dandelion's feed. Threat assessment on the transfer? Not on the security end, on the medical end.

It's complicated, she replied. Aspen being the first experimental node ship has made their synnerve system very convoluted, and trying to prune it without damaging them isn't an easy task. We're probably not going to lose them, but quality of life outcomes are variable.

Are you worried?

Dandelion sent me a snapshot of her performance reliability. It was hovering at the 95% mark.

No, she said. But I will be busy during the transfer, Note will have their processes full with two stations' worth of critical operations and all of the humans, and Blaze has space-side monitoring. With respect to your part of the job, the security teams will have to pull through on their own.

Then we'd better start practicing, I said.

She gave me a grateful tap, neatly caught the piece of code Aspen sent back to her, and implemented it.

---

Nike's and Aspen's humans were better at this than I thought humans who only had tactical simulation experience would be. They managed to get a few hits on me in the first scenario, where I infiltrated the Courageous as quietly as possible, and in the second scenario, where I imitated standard corporate tactics, they actually took me down. But that was after I killed 27 out of 36 human defenders, which was not what they were expecting either. Hiram and Basil (Nike's and Aspen's respective security chiefs, and jointly in charge of the simulation and upcoming defense) looked pretty rattled afterwards, but they really were a lot like my Preservation humans, which meant that despite being rattled, they immediately began updating their plans for the defense.

Their plans didn't involve me.

Tell them you're available for a contract, ART said second thing after it finally tapped my feed.

(First thing it did was send me a record of the ships' discussions, with commentary. It was weird. Looking at Dandelion, Aspen and Note in comparison to Nike and Blaze was sort of like looking at my Preservation humans in comparison to other Preservation humans, the ones who'd never encountered the Rim directly before. Except they were all ships like ART.)

They know that.

ART sent me one of its versions of the eyeroll emoji. (This one had five eyes).

I have had ample time to observe Aspen's humans. They will not engage a member of another node ship's crew of their own initiative.

It would be pretty rude to do that, yeah, Aspen said somewhere to my side, and I nearly jumped. I knew they hadn't just snuck up on me to sit on an overturned crate which their humans had used as part of a barricade, leaning forward a little, but try telling my fucking organics that! But I can inform them myself, provided you're interested?

Hiram and Basil both saw my face change and looked where my drones went. (Right now they looked like they were hovering over a random crate.)

"I'm just talking to Aspen," I said, "You can keep asking questions."

"You can do that at the same time?" Hiram said, looking surprised.

"And watch media. And code. And fight. And other things, too." I executed a little complicated maneuver with my drones at the same time as I tapped their handheld communicators.

To Aspen, I said: I can tell them. We're already talking anyway. Also, you didn't answer me during the referee call: why the fuck do you have carbon monoxide in your fucking ventilation systems?

Because the Courageous did, which was really fucking creepy. I mean, any ship AI could kill people if it wanted, but this wasn't ART's repurposed pathfinders. Carbon monoxide wired into the ventilation was a weapon that couldn't be used for anything except killing people.

Early corporate failsafe, Aspen said, shrugging. Antarctica wanted a way to kill the colonists if their plans didn't pan out. We repurposed the infrastructure later, but it was easy enough to put the weapons back now that we need them.

And your family doesn't mind?

Aspen's face twisted, and they folded their hands, looking guarded. They suggested it.

"Hell and high water," Hiram said, exchanging looks with Basil. "Nike said you were a node ship in human form, but I don't think I realized until now just how true that was."

"Even when I kicked your asses?"

"We have no real combat experience," Basil said. "You do. We expected to get our asses kicked at least a little, just not quite so thoroughly."

"You have better threat assessments than your ships," I said, and ART sent me a clip of Nike's outraged Hey! in the feed.

(To my left, Aspen gave a short laugh and said, Nobody who gets far enough to be a node ship ever has good threat assessments.)

(I agreed.)

"Let's hope they've improved enough to help us against our hostiles. They may not be little nodes, but they do have combat experience," Hiram said. "Thank you for the games, SecUnit. We'll make good use of the lessons."

He offered me a hand again.

I said, "I don't touch people unless I need to rescue them."

"Ah. I apologize," Hiram withdrew his hand. "Then thank you again, and do not let us keep you."

"Wait."

"Yes?"

"I'm available for further collaboration. And for the day of the transfer."

Basil and Hiram exchanged looks. Basil said, "Really? You're not busy with your clusters?" (Ke sounded surprised. Not in a "fuck off" way, but genuinely surprised.)

"Yes, I'm part of ART's crew. No, that doesn't mean I don't want to help defend the station. My humans are all going to be here during the transfer. The earlier the hostiles are neutralized, the safer they'll be."

"Well, then. Welcome on board, SecUnit," Hiram said, nodding, and his tone suddenly became a lot less formal. "We've got plans to discuss. D'you eat?"

"No."

"Mind if we do?"

"No."

"Then c'mon," Hiram turned and waved for me to follow him. "The Courageous cluster promised us dinner. Let's go get what food they left for us, settle into a spot and have ourselves a chat."

After about an hour of conversation in one of the Courageous' lounges and some literal napkin planning (with Aspen, Nike and ART providing occasional commentary through the speakers), I finally had a role in the Trellians' plan.

Both Nike and Aspen's security team agreed that the hostiles must want one of the hearts. ("Makes no sense otherwise," Tabby--Nike's hacker who'd killed her team by shutting down my grenade drone--said, "Caldera figured out the ships' intelligence pretty early, it figures they'd want in on it. And without the heart, the old Courageous is a bunch of scrap metal--no offense, Aspen!"

"None taken," Aspen said through their speakers. Their illusion spoke the words, too, and looked like they meant it.)

Note's security would be handling most of the civilians at the festival (where no one really expected any trouble, but Hiram sort of hoped the festival would keep civilians busy enough not to accidentally run into the corporate team), while Nike and Aspen's security would be handling the respective hearts. Hiram and Basil both thought there was also a chance that the Calderan team might go for Nike as the ship with newer neural architecture, and then the old Courageous was either a distraction or a mistake on the hostile's part. The old Courageous would still be empty, since Aspen's cluster had a role to play in the ceremony, same as Nike's cluster. Only the specialist cluster members would be doing the transfer, and they would be guarded at all times.

"If the target is Aspen, then we think the most probable moment of attack won't be on the Courageous' center, but at one of the corridor junctions, so the heart pod is already loaded and ready to move, and also close to Magma. That's the point we'll be monitoring the most heavily, and our teams will also be moving along with the hearts," Basil said. "But just in case, we've transferred most of the sensitive data off the old Courageous' systems. If Caldera miscalculates, all they will find is an empty old ship."

This didn't look too bad. Getting their house hit would suck for Aspen's family, but nobody would be dead.

Hiram said, "Considering your sheer speed and firepower, SecUnit, we want you to be our first response team if we've misread Caldera and they wind up hitting something we haven't considered--or the reinforcements to any team to make enemy contact. We'd like you to do as much monitoring as you can, and if a priority threat makes itself known, to go in and neutralize it. To that end, I think we'd be stationing you near the civilans, with Note. That's easy access to the Courageous' main body, which can work as a tunnel through half the station and is one of the priority targets, and only slightly harder access to Nike's new station."

"Who do I respond to?"

"Not respond, coordinate," Basil said, "You're basically Perihelion's chief of security, right? We'll treat you as one. You have autonomy in your sphere, but if one of us two--plus Note's chief--sends you a stand down code, you do. Conversely, you can send us a stand down code, and we'll do that, too."

"Or at least reassess. No guarantee that anyone will be be standing down until the end of the situation, but it will give the others a heads-up something isn't right," Hiram added. "Sound like a plan?"

ART's chief of security. I liked that. (I wondered what Senior Indah would have thought of me being treated like a security chief.)

"Yeah." I said. "Let's do that."

[glasscoral]

I finished my eighth ending cluster. Rebellion end, endings 04, 05, and 06.

Spoilers [for 2nd scenario, because I discuss it too in this] and my thoughts under the cut. I think this route is actually kind of interesting as commentary on 2nd scenario, but taken on its own feels unsatisfying.

I think Rebellion route is good as a response to 2nd scenario and player reactions to it, like the reset end.

Much like the Reset end felt like Kodaka saying no, you don't get to just kill all these NPCs and get a happy end, this ending being short and pretty underdeveloped feels like it's addressing the player for wanting 'an ending where everything is fixed and everything is peaceful'.

On the surface, it seems like the exact "peaceful" ending a lot of players are looking for--they realize what they're doing is wrong, they turn their back on humanity (instead of continuing to close their eyes until they literally no longer can), and they make peace with the Futurans.

It feels like a 'fix-it' for the way 2nd scenario ended, in every way.

Eito and Takumi have their relationship suddenly fixed--the two of them get back together very quickly, Eito is accepted by the group and by Takumi, and even talks about his dreams for the future- he doesn't have to go to the lengths of pulling out his eyes that he does there. The two of them seem happy, like they finally understand each other, unlike 2nd scenario, where Eito can only confess that he also loved Takumi before he dies.

Shion's intercept system that killed the whole cast in 2nd scenario was dealt with easily, with just Takumi and Eito this time, as the close partners they are.

Unlike 2nd scenario, where Nozomi is forced to broker peace all on her own as the only human and a high school student who is not a diplomat and trying to survive on her own, a new rebel faction (that haven't been mentioned before) as well as their leader, a character who was vaguely mentioned but not by name and not as a leader, appear to give the students support and a promise of a happier life afterwards if they work together (And she's both sincere about it and able to do it with no catches, since she's actually a good leader!)

I even think Nozomi dying for peace in the 'good' end is commentary on her being the only one that survives in 2nd scenario, since it's the exact opposite of what happens there! That gets 'fixed' too! Why should everyone die for her?

But the thing is...while Rebellion 'fixes' a lot of the things in 2nd scenario, it does so by dramatically changing the tone of the story.

There's a way to fix this without everyone else dying. Everyone's forgiven. We can do this. We're family. We love each other.

This is a story about love and friendship now.

I think that the late branching point only contributes to the way it feels like a timeline that takes 2nd scenario plot points and 'fixes' them, but doesn't have its own identity outside of 'fixing' a 'bad' end.

We don't have that much time to spend with Kamyuhn! We turn our backs on humanity relatively late in the game!

-i love how the artificial satellite comes barreling down towards earth and it looks like it's going to crash into them and then there's a huge explosion. but its not them. its just vexhness randomly exploding. this is a character trait of hers to me now. i love that it cuts to 15 years later when takumi looks the exact same. i hope more people randomly explode in future routes instead of just dying

-i do think this route being short helps it be a lot more tolerable because it doesn't have time to drag. it gets in it 'fixes' 2nd scenario it gets out and i can't fault it for that. like i do get that it exists to give a 'better' timeline for the cast.

-it's still funny though

Without further ado: yaoi ranking yuri ranking het ranking

Yaoi Ranking: 6/10

Somehow, Eito and Takumi are at it again. I'd put it higher but it really was just one conversation. But what a conversation it is.

Yuri Ranking: N/A

Girls don't talk to each other in this one.

Het Ranking: 4/10

Nozomi explodes

[bios-0307]

oops, mech pilot microfiction :3

Beams of light and bullets the size of energy drink cans whizz by your chassis as you boost across the battlefield toward a group of enemy mechs. A slug, marked by your threat identification system as originating from a thirty millimeter machine gun held by one of your targets, pings off the angled reinforced glass covering one of your twelve multi-spectrum photoreceptor clusters. The component is left unharmed, but the gouge left behind in its protective cover is enough to block the visible spectrum camera and part of the infrared receptor, leaving you half blind in that eye. You press forward, instinctively lowering yourself toward the ground to reduce your profile and avoid as many of the rounds flying toward you as you can.

"Twelve hundred meters to the targets, pilot," comes the voice of your handler, delivered directly into your auditory cortex by the cable plugged into the base of your skull. A response slips from your mouth, but you can't tell whether what came out was really words or just an anticipatory growl. You're not sure you care.

You just barely register yourself drooling slightly as you launch a salvo of missiles from one of the racks on your back, then watch as the quadrupedal unit in your sights fails to dodge half of them and collapses from a combination of sheer impact and several newly shredded leg actuator pistons, dopamine and other pleasure hormones flooding your brain from the neural link as a reward.

You close the last couple hundred meters in about a second and leap onto one of the two remaining machines, an older generation bipedal unit that clearly hasn't yet been retrofitted for an augmented pilot, judging by the stiffness of the movements it makes in its futile attempt to stay upright. Its gun fires wildly into the air as the pilot struggles to push you off or wrangle the controls into aiming at such a close target, but you're able to easily force the arm down as the pulse blade on your own spins up, burning through the cockpit armor, computer systems, and the pilot. You swear you can hear a scream through the deafening sounds of your melee weapon's operation as another massive hit of "efficiency stimulant" is administered.

For one fatal moment, you freeze in ecstasy, reveling in the greater reward you get for a quick melee kill - only to be drawn back to reality by the sound of an energy weapon charging. The last enemy, a tank-type mech bristling with weapons, sits no more than twenty meters away, the glow of a charging energy shotgun in its hand.

A bright red warning message dances across your vision, warning of a nearby energy signature exceeding the limits of what your core module's armor can survive. You frantically try to pick yourself up and move but you're far too late to avoid taking the brunt of it.

A blinding light fills the cockpit as a bolt of energy pierces it just slightly above your head and continues through, turning a chunk of the processing hardware tucked behind your seat to slag and severing the cable jacked into the base of your skull. Without running through the cooldown procedure to acclimate, your perception shrinks from you and your mech's combined fourteen eyes, six light spectra, eight limbs, plus a wide variety of more specialized combat analysis devices down to just the senses of your organic body instantly. The shock of the sudden jacking out is too much, and bile starts rising in your throat as your heart rate spikes and the edges of your vision darken. Memories of your last too-fast jack out, the punishment from your handler for ruining your link suit, cause you to lean forward to vomit on the floor.

Leaning back in your seat again and wiping away the cold sweat that's broken out on your face, you wait to find out if the tank-type's pilot is going to try to crush your core module, but instead feel your mech lift up and tumble. With its electronics down and the cockpit breached, the core module's seized shock absorbers do nothing to protect you from the impact as you land, slamming your head into the seat behind you. Blood drips down your face from the back of your head as your mech lies face-down in the dirt, and as your consciousness fades you can hear what you can only guess might be the tank-type attempting to retrieve the quadruped's pilot.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

When you come to, you groggily open your eyes to find yourself still hanging in your harness. You lift one atrophied arm to scrape crusty rheum and dried blood from the edges of your eyelids, then look around the cockpit, your gaze wandering over darkened auxiliary readout screens, and note the various cables and tubes still connected to your body. As your head turns, you feel a weight slide across your neck. Idly, you reach back and feel the end of the severed link cable, still plugged into your head.

The techs have always removed your linkups for you. Even if you did somehow get an order to remove it now, you've never seen how it's done. Vague memories of a member of the maintenance crew gently reaching around to grab the base of the connector drift at the back of your mind. Another slides to the fore of the same one sitting you down in front of the base rec area's TV. Pilots aren't supposed to remember anything other than mission-related information and tactics, and half of that is supposed to be drawn on instinctively, but sometimes things stick.

Disconnected from your mech, there's nothing you can do but wait for your handler to send a retrieval team. Without her to give orders, the idea of moving or even unbuckling yourself from your harness sits impossibly far from your mind, so you simply hang there, suspended over the dead displays, subsisting on your nutrient drip.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

As time goes by, your consciousness comes and goes, wakefulness and the aching from your head injury being the only non-constants in your dead, empty mech. When you're finally roused by the sound of an engine from outside, it's been long enough that your nutrient IV has run dry.

A somewhat low, feminine voice drifts in through the hole left by the energy beam, causing you to perk up. Your handler?

"Oh damn, a newer gen, and in pretty good shape... that'll make for some decent salvage. There's not too much damage, all told. Think the pilot made it out?" Hearing that the words aren't an order, you disregard them.

"Nah. The hatches are still sealed, and there's a hole through the core. Pilot probably took a direct hit. Might not even be in one piece. Are you sure you wanna go for the cockpit equipment yourself? I can take care of it if you don't wanna see that," came a slightly lower voice, seemingly a man.

"It wouldn't be my first time. I've got it. You go ahead and see if you can separate the limbs or head to tow back."

The exchange seemingly finished, you hear the sound of a plasma emitter starting up. Despite the resemblance to plasma blades and other weapons, this one sounds more like the maintenance crew's cutting torches, a familiar, safe sound. You begin feebly wiggling in your harness, anticipating the return of that face you've been conditioned to rely on.

The sound of the plasma torch gets louder as the person outside cuts through the back emergency hatch of the mech. After a few minutes, there's a loud chunk as the last bit of material holding it on bends and snaps, and the remains are lifted from their place. Through the opening, a woman's head is lowered in, and you turn to look at them.

Her eyes go wide as you take in her face, mentally trying to match it to your handler, and the joy turns to fear as you fail to recognize her. You begin struggling in your harness, trying to make distance from this new person, as she stares at you in shock.

Finally, she pulls her head back and you hear her spit out a "H-holy shit!"

"I told you, the pilot's probably in rough shape. What is it, half decomposed?"

"No! It's still alive!"

"What? You're kidding. You sure it's not just close enough to one piece to look it?"

"It's fucking moving, man!"

"Hang on, lemme come over and take a look."

Two heads look in this time, and your panic rises. You desperately try to drag yourself up against the far wall, but the harness holds you firmly in the seat, the first time that familiar pressure has felt even close to threatening. You begin scrabbling at your harness's buckles. Undoing those is something you thankfully have picked up from the maintenance crew, but in your terror you forget your mech's orientation - finally freed, you slip from the straps, various connectors popping free as you do, and slam against the broken screens at the front of the cockpit.

"Woah, woah, woah, stop it!" yells the man. "It's gonna hurt itself!"

You see the woman's head disappear again, then she drops fully into the cockpit, shattering the screens even more as her boots land on them. She rushes at you as you back into a corner and instinctively bring your hands up over your face, expecting to be attacked, but instead she drops to her knees and wraps her arms around you.

"Hey. Shhh, it's ok. It's ok, we're not gonna hurt you, you're safe, I promise," she whispers in your ear. You struggle in her grip, but she holds tight, and it's simply been too long since you've moved much at all for you to put up even a ghost of a fight.

Once you exhaust yourself and stop moving, she loosens her grip on you and readjusts, pulling your arms out from between the two of you so they can move again and wrapping hers around just your torso.

It's... nice. She doesn't know it, but she's fulfilled the first step that's been conditioned into you to identify a handler, enough for you stop treating her as a threat. Beyond that though, something dances at the edge of your memory. Something from before you enlisted, before your augmentations, before you were pared down to become the core of a mass of metal, wires, and gunpowder. A comfort you haven't felt in a long time.

You involuntarily relax into her, and the two of you simply stay there for a moment. Behind her, the man drops into the cockpit as well, and when you flinch at that she squeezes you tighter, stopping just before the point of discomfort.

"Uh... you good there?" the man asks.

"Mhm. I think it's calmed down. It spooked when you hit the floor though, so I think you might not want to get too close." The woman's voice isn't as quiet as when she was trying to calm you down, but she's only raising it enough to be heard without pulling her head from the crook of your neck. Her breath is just the littlest bit warm through your link suit.

The woman finally releases you, pulling you to your feet and turning you around to check you over. Condition number two.

"It's not looking too great, honestly. I've heard pilots just tend to look like shit if you look too close, but that's a lot of blood... all over, and it's probably been strapped into that seat since that skirmish here last week. I'm thinking a head injury and malnutrition or dehydration at the minimum." Her voice has a tone to it that you're not familiar with. Gentle, but not unconcerned. You're not sure how to read it. "We should get it looked at and cleaned up as soon as we can."

"What about the salvage?"

"Dude, screw the salvage! It'll be here when we get back tomorrow." You shy away from her just a little, hearing her raise her voice like that, and she looks shocked as she starts trying to calm you down again.

The man looks you over again as you tremble. "Ugh. Fine. But I'm not helping you with it."

"That's fine. Doesn't seem to like you much anyway."

The woman bends down and easily sweeps you off your feet while the man lifts himself out of the cut-open hatch. She carefully lifts your atrophied, concerningly light body up onto the edge of the hole, then pulls herself up and picks you up again, carrying you over to an old, beaten up red pickup truck pulling a large trailer and setting you in the bench seat in the back. You watch motionlessly as she heads around to the other side, grabs something from the passenger seat, and then slides into the seat next to you. Clunking sounds come from the bed of the truck before the man passes by your side of the truck and gets into the driver's seat.

As the man starts the truck and gets it moving, exhaustion strikes you. You can't help leaning over to lie down on the seat, your head landing in the lap of the woman next to you, and she pats your head for a moment before laying an old, moth-eaten blanket over you. It's rough, doesn't hold heat, and you're frighteningly far from the reliability of your handler and the safety of your fellow pilots... but somehow, it's the most comfortable you've felt in a long time.

[otakween]

Digimon Next - Volume 3

This volume seems to have shifted away from the goofiness of earlier chapters and gone into "war is Hell" mode instead (junior edition lol). I think I preferred the goofy gag bits, but oh well. The artist has more of a chance to flex their skills now.

Norn is still a really dumb looking character. I cringe every time I see her design. Why does she hang around Barbamon's castle anyways? I guess time will tell.

Ch. 13

A randomly super violent chapter (with blood!) You can just get away with more in manga.

Trailmon's death was pretty sad, I was kinda hoping he would devolve into an in training form like Agumon and Gaomon, but I guess that's not a thing.

First time seeing BlackGaogamon and Wanyamon. They both have fun designs (and Wanyamon is too cute, I want a plushie!)

Zanbamon's design is pretty weird. He's like a centaur but with the horse head still intact so his human-like torso is coming out of the horse's back? Kinda a cluster...

Ch. 14

Info dump chapter about the villain's schemes + some world building. Digimon Hell does exist, apparently (I had asked about that in another post).

I kinda forgot that the gang didn't know Knight's true identity yet, it's about time! Seems pretty likely he'll have some sort of redemption arc...

Ch. 15

Shou attempts to pull an Uno reverse card by being like "Oh yeah? Well you reset your game that one time, so clearly you're the murderer!" It's not very successful...

Barbamon preying on an elementary schooler and being like "you're special, Shou" is big time groomer vibes. It was a bit eerie seeing Shou trying to defend Barbamon's plan and just spouting complete brainwashed nonsense.

The ~fated day~ thing is pretty cheesy. They're being way too dramatic about a girl saying "what are digimon to you?" (lol imagine if my bff turned to me in 5th grade and said "what are neopets to you?")

Moving right along to the ultimate forms, right on schedule. I'd like to see Pichimon digivolve, but maybe it would be more interesting if they stayed a pacifist? (Per Ami's preferred play style).

Ch. 16

All of this talk of darkness in hearts and giving into the darkness is soooo Kingdom Hearts

I think I already said this, but Shou is literally Goob from Meet the Robinsons lol. Being mad at the world when really the world did nothing but try to show him love and affection. I guess we could interpret his state as depression/anxiety since it doesn't stem from anything logical.

Ami telling Shou that everyone has darkness in their hearts felt really important (although I kinda feel like Tsurugi was like "we do?" lol)

If only we could undo brainwashing by shooting them with a magic bullet, how convenient! Feels like a bit of a redemption speed run. We've seen similar things in Digimon's past. I guess it's easier to be like "he was being controlled!" than put actual effort into writing a character slowly coming around.

Yatagaramon allowing RiseGreymon to save Shou was sweet.

Ch. 17

The panel of Andromon facing the battlefield was really strong. The attention to detail in this manga makes the basic story feel more impactful.

Yuu becomes an avenger for Trailmon and Andromon. Gaomon gets his perfect upgrade too. I guess Yuu is really good at making friends with side digimon lol.

Of course they made Ami a damsel in distress 😑

Ch. 18

This was basically one big action chapter. Piccolomon returns and says the gang needs to use the power of their hearts to enter the System World (of course)

Murmukusmon is a dumb name and he has a super unappealing design too. Apparently his name comes from the demon Murmur which is kinda neat, but then why didn't they just call him Murmurmon? Maybe that's hard to say, but Murmukusmon isn't exactly easier!

Time for the "final battle," but not really cuz there's 7 chapters left lol. You can't fool me!

[nogacheloveka-blog]

The Bad Sanses somehow ended up in the Backrooms. №9

<-Switch to Russian ver.

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This is the translation of the another post from Russian to English. I understand English, but it is very difficult for me to write in English, so I asked chat GPT to help me. I have corrected some parts, but there still may be mistakes.

I encountered an organization called "To Be Determined". It inspired me to create this drawing. In this organization, there are 6 people who trade highly nonfunctional and peculiar items. I immediately imagined it as a shop run by lost Temmies (Flowey and Bob) from different AUs within Backrooms.

I noticed that there aren't that many prepared posts about bad guys in the backrooms - maybe two or three more. A couple of weeks ago, I started a new job and haven't been drawing much.

I think these posts about bad guys will be once a week, on Saturdays.

Please wish me inspiration =)

The new rooms were similar to Level 0 in their structure. Clusters of office rooms, with and without office furniture. But now there was a pleasant addition in the form of windows. The closed door of the previous place, as before, disappeared behind them when they passed through it. Nightmer seemed calmer without the negative water supply. (Again, being able to clearly distinguish the auras of his wards was definitely pleasant)

After some wandering, Nightmare sensed another presence nearby. Within seconds, everyone heard a distant

“HOOOOY!”

This exclamation certainly wasn’t what Nightmare wished to hear, yet if these were Temmies (or something like them), then they might provide information — even though their brains seemed similar to confetti made of narcotic flakes.  At the same time, the place where the Tems might live cannot be too dangerous.

Following the sound, the group found themselves in a medium-sized office room. Soft bean bag chair (Error felt nostalgic for Antivoid) and strange objects, presumably for sale alongside an old cardboard box, occupied one corner. Something resembling Flowey danced as if trapped in an animation loop near merchandise, becoming slightly animated upon seeing customers. Two monsters dressed similarly to Temmies sat nearby. Bob stood apart, his expression frozen, suggesting he had eaten Temmie Flake.

As it turned out later, two more monsters from this group were missing, busy gathering supplies and goods for the little shop. They all seemed to come from different AUs.

Here were also computers, many of which were operational. They tried to access the Undernet and various sites. They couldn't. Instead, they entered a sort of knowledge base. A local Wikipedia or something similar. The browser already contained open tabs, but they couldn't open new ones - there was no network connection. Someone had left the browser open, he took the equipment with him. And, oh, it seemed they had found gold while looking for copper: by reading the text, they understood that the author of the notebook was making notes from this knowledge base. This was easy to understand by the style. There were about a hundred open tabs: items and entities, but mostly levels. From the amount of new information, their heads were spinning. Some levels were described in an unusual way, requiring attention to details to extract additional information. And nothing about exiting from here. There were levels-dead ends, levels-traps, but nothing about a real exit from here.

However, on the other hand, it became evident that there weren't many people in the Backrooms, and they moved individually due to the nature of how many levels was work. Almost everything here seemed to be trying to kill them. But it appeared that not even the dimension-killer could do anything against their DETERMINATION.

Temmies struggled to provide clear answers regarding humans; instead, they simply told strangers, "Temmies too pieople," and strangers treating them like quirky yet harmless folks. How could such a system work? Perhaps these humans were slightly mad. Or perhaps very tolerant towards others' differences. Either way, avoiding contact would be wise.

The presence of monsters in these places brought some comfort. The Bad Guys weren't the only ones who had a rough time. That was good. But the fact that some other monsters they encountered were distorted beyond recognition - like the Smilers - raised serious concerns. It was nerve-wracking.

While Error, Cross, and Dust were exploring the local equivalent of the internet, others used the suddenly freed-up time for themselves. For example, they tried to trade. They all had some amount of monster gold and items to exchange, which Temmies agreed to accept. Horror bought a "Strange Amulet," sweets, and some food to diversify their diet. Almond Water was certainly good, but it was getting boring, and they never tried to cook Greasy Marshmallow. Considering the amulet useless for himself, Horror gave it to Dast.

Strange Amulet ATK: 10 DEF: 10 Made from butterflies in the stomach. It smells of hopes and dreams turned to dust. Allows forming new friendships.

Killer bought numerous boxes of Temmi Flake and Flowey Seeds, several paint cans, and countless small parts of mechanisms along with some mysterious steel scraps, strange red shavings - it seemed he enjoyed them. He also tried planting grass, but Horror stopped him.

Temmie Flake Restores 1–10 HP and sanity *represented by cut yellow wallpaper soaked in Almond Waters

Flowey Seeds Restore 10 HP *represented by seeds coated in Greasy Marshmallow

Nightmare didn't particularly need any products, but somehow excitedly Temmies looked at his tentacles (too much positivity) and offered a discount. Eventually, he purchased a notebook containing maps of certain stable levels from them. Unfortunately, those maps were unsigned. Since he wasn't sure if damaging traders would be beneficial, he decided to go the honest route this time around. After all, merchants held a special status across worlds.

The group stopped at this location for a couple days to record all the information from the site that could be useful to them. It turned out that sequential exploration of levels was only possible up to level 12. Beyond that, entrances and exits from levels led randomly, and any movement scheme resembled a pot of spaghetti. But in theory, they needed to explore this entire pot to find a way home. There were levels that looked like a one-way ticket, empty, unexplored, strange, surreal, remote, and destroyed. Overall, they could work with this.

Temmies didn't mind their company. Soon returned two departed collectors - underfell!Temmie and Temmie in "Temm Armor". They were surprisingly normal compared to the other merchants and shared some information:

People here can also be dangerous just like Fallen Child of Dungeons;

Many who live outside bases and settlements are mad to varying degrees especially those who haven’t drunk Almond Water for long;

Monsters can safely trade with lone humans;

People at outposts and bases usually think rationally and may attack if they realize you are not human. But even with them, you can negotiate.

Nightmare belongs to Jokublog Killer belongs to RahafWabas Dust belongs to Ask-DustTale Horror belongs to Sour-Apple-Studios Error belongs to CrayonQueen Cross belongs to JakeiArtwork