#Automatic Day Night Light Sensor

[orangez3st]

In Some Other Lifetime - Chapter 3

Glowing, fairytale, knowing

Clone Commando Scorch × F!Reader

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✧ Chapter Summary: Three years after denouncing your Jedi path, you were still waiting for your soulmate. One night, he came to you in a dream.

✧ General Tags & Warnings: reader is a jedi turned bounty hunter, soulmate au, clone commando scorch fix-it-verse, the bad batch season 3 canon, rescue mission, prison break

✧ Word Count: 3.0k

✧ A/N: Let this be my entry for @deltasquadweek alt prompt day 3! Finally I'm finishing up on this event and I can work on something else, I'm so happy about it 😆 if this looks a bit messy you have my apology. Enjoy this flashback chapter, vode! 💛

Story Index ✧ Join Taglist ✧ Other Clone x Reader

6 Years Ago - 24 BBY

You swear you've made this place—your apartment— as neat and tidy as possible. The trait is a part of you after all—it might or might not be something you've brought with yourself from your past life, aside from your lightsaber. Every moment after you wake up you always keep your space organized. Or you're trying. At least no trash around—no empty bottles of cheap alcohol and no empty takeaway boxes. You know better.

But somehow, every night you return home from hunt, you always find your things cluttered as if there's an unknown stray tooka living in your space—a modest apartment somewhere in the Coruscant lower levels close to 1313, which is, heck, it's not even lower levels by term anymore—it is by all means the underworld.

You sigh and step inside, shrugging your outer layers off and immediately hang it up on the rack near the front door, said door hissing close with a click after you turn on the lock mechanism for the night. Marching further inside after hopping out of your boots, your apartment lights up automatically by sensor.

Rent is pricey, but with your Jedi-trained stamina and stealth and everything else, you always make quick and efficient work in bringing in bodies either warm or cold, depending on your target pucks. Always another job after finishing one. You're thriving. You have to. Life is not free or discounted even for the poorest folks in the worst streets of Coruscant. Your earnings go to rent and food and water and speeder maintenance. As much as a cleaning droid may be helpful to keep the space clean, you're already used to doing things by yourself since childhood. So, no point.

The chronometer—ticking, just the way you like it, despite the provided silent settings in a click of a button—shows 2248. Too late for dinner. You just took one extra job today and client wanted them alive, so the struggle was… struggling. You were too far to go around and pick up dinner at your favorite hole-in-the-wall fried grains place, you figured you would just order from your datapad.

And you did just that. A shower—Force knows how many liters of grimy water down the drain later, your honey roasted nuna and flatbread with a side of bean sprout salad in peanut sauce dressing arrives at your doorstep. Dinner. First bite is just as alright as any other night—late dinner. Warm. Not stale. Comfortable. Everything there is. Lacks dessert, though. Sometimes you miss the Temple's moist and buttery blumberry muffin. Sometimes you don't care.

You wait for an hour. Cleaning up, scrolling through your datapad while clocking bounties they put up in the deepnet and keeping up with the news column, shaking your head at either yet another political poodoo or celebrity stunts. Coruscant is alive even at night as it is during the day—the ecumenopolis that never sleeps—something that you hadn't quite learned when you were still living under the Temple's roof behind a certain limit of everything and under the unseen ever-watchful eyes, despite the homely comfort.

An hour has passed, your stereo playing soft music in the background as you sit in your living area. Stretching your back as you stand, you turn it off and head toward your bedroom, the lights behind you extinguished as you march far away from the sensors.

Lying down on your pillows is always something you look up at night. At midnight, in this case. Another part of your routine aside from staring at the ceiling is running the pad of your thumb along your Soul Mark. Placed on the inside of your left ring finger, the word 1262 stuck like a permanent ink. You got your Soul Mark when you turned 18—a year of identity crisis before you left the temple and basically became a fugitive of the establishment. 

You always find yourself caressing the Mark. It feels like you already care about them, and honestly you expect the same. Perhaps by brushing your Mark they could feel your presence too, somehow. Like a hand—your hand—rubbing their back to comfort them, or perhaps running your fingers through their hair if they've got any. Is their hair long? Short? Bald? Your curiosity has been eating you for the last three years.

Because you haven't felt anything in return.

There should be something. Some kind of warmth, perhaps. You can only imagine. You journeyed through the holonet in related forums when the anxiety ate you up for ‘troubleshooting’ as if it's a broken device. Well, there are holobooks about this, alright, but you're not purchasing for something you believe you're able to trudge through by yourself. Holonet said your partner might be younger than you because they're not of age yet, so Dreamspace Contact hasn't been made.

You have a younger partner.

You can only hope they're not quite far apart. You don't know if you can handle a 20-year difference in a stride. Also it's disgusting. You're in your early twenties—that’d make them a baby still. You shudder and clench your eyes shut, hugging your pillows close to your body and intending to just sleep it right off.

Sleep envelops you quickly, but instead of that usual and bizarre timeskip to the morning, your body, or what you think is your body, is suspended mid air. Or floating. Airy. Gliding through space. Floating is more like it. Empty space. Except, it's not quite empty.

You can't see the color of your skin or the color of the clothes you wear to bed tonight—all you're feeling is having these see-through, shapeless limbs that reflected trillions of colors. Like countless cuts in a precious stone. Like you're a being among the stars, whimsical and spinning across an ethereal, never-ending space. You're bound to the empty, blurry, white space awaiting you—that you can register. Your mind is awake, yet every motion that your formless self makes is indecipherable, as if you're not moving at all. It's like moving underwater.

You gasp—or at least, what you think is a gasp. You've come prepared for this. You read a lot in holonet, and you recalled something familiar those people shared their experience online.

You're commencing Dreamspace Contact.

Your soulmate is here!

Excitement bubbles in your intangible chest—yet you feel it all the same, it's such a wonder. You dart around the space, waiting if something have changed.

“Hello?” you call out, frowning when finding your voice wispy, airy, echoing. Recovering from such discovery, you let your enthusiasm take the best of you. “Anyone in here? I'm here now. We’re making Contact.”

You jump again, and gasp, when the surrounding liminal space before you shifts. One moment later, you're seeing through another's perspective—another’s eyes. You catch glimpses of pristine hallways with hospital-like sterility. Hands, strong and calloused masculine hands in a shade of beautiful bronze. You blink in intrigue, your mouth shapes a little ‘o’ at the reveal, enthusiasm exploding inside your chest in a storm of scurrying butterflies.

The projection flickers.

“Oh stang,” another voice says. They—he—come forward in a stumble. You see the space before you shift abruptly, warping into a form similar to yours. Colorless, shapeless, except the wispy and vague form of a body in white iridescent. And you just know he's stumbling, as if his foot gets caught in a raised threshold.

“Are you okay?” you ask, amusement laced in your airy tone, and you immediately reach out but your body somehow won't let you. Question for another day then. You're too excited to meet your other half. You're stuck in your place, and it seems he is, too.

“Oh wow,” he awes, his voice similarly wispy to yours but leave it to whatever divines residing in the cosmos as to how you hear his voice clearly. “Are you my soulmate?”

You chuckle, and you can feel your cheeks growing hot. “Seems like it,” you answer, your head tilting as you watch him warp in his own space. “Are you okay?” you ask again, wondering if there should be any distress radiating off of him you should've been feeling by now.

“Adjusting to the environment.” You see him nod tentatively. “What'd you call it again? ‘Contact’?”

“Dreamspace Contact,” you clarify, moving your arms around, “This should be the said dreamspace, according to what I've read on the net, too.”

He gapes at you adoringly. “You sound really insightful. Prime, I have a brilliant girlfriend.”

You quench down your blush. “What, you don't know?”

He shrugs his formless shoulders—but then again, you just know that's the movement he's making. “Don't really have access to it.”

Your eyebrows frown. What kind of planet so backwater he doesn't have access to holonet, and perhaps long-distance comms? Is that something that has to do with his… numbers? His name on your skin? His name couldn't be numbers. But then you begin to imagine scenarios. Perhaps if you make him drop the name of his planet, you can travel right down to it and meet him. The problem recedes slowly, eventually.

The question—“Where in the galaxy do you live?”—sprouts out of you before you can stop it.

“Uh, Mid Rim.”

You clock it. Terrible liar. You're so gonna have a lot of fun with this guy.

“No you're not,” you smirk.

“Sorry.” His guilty voice is small, and he makes a motion that looks like rubbing the back of his neck. You smile. “Is it… okay if I keep it under wraps for now?”

“Why tell me later when you can tell me now?”

“It's, um, something. I can't reveal it to you yet. But I will when the time's right, I promise.” He pauses, his mouth forming what seems to be a pout. “Please don't be mad at me. You're not mad… right?”

You let out a sweet laugh that instantly brings heat surging through his chest. “It's fine… love,” you hesitate with the nickname. His iridescent form warps, excitement and how he's flattered exuding through and through. You grin, reeling the pet name back to use it for later date. You want this night to be as comfortable as possible. “I'm not mad.”

His relieved laugh is full of joy. The moment you hear it, you know you're not gonna be bored. You're branding it to your memory as you speak.

“It’s my first time inside this space,” he says, “In fact I've only earned the Mark today.”

Oh, he's younger than you. Despite the quirkiness in his tone, his voice sounds quite manly already. A little scratchy, but he sounds and radiates youthfulness that you suspect you will find contentment in throughout your life. Or maybe you already have.

“It’s your name,” he says, uttering it clearly, “That has to be you, right?”

“That's me,” you smile, “And yours on mine has been 1262 for 3 years.”

“Oh,” he hesitates, “Um, that's me, yeah.”

You watch him. “Why numbers?”

“You can… call me Scorch, if you'd like.”

Deflecting your question. Your excitement dampens, yet understanding arises as quick as it does—it has to be something that he ought to keep under wraps this time. You wonder if he's born a slave that he's given numbers and such name. You're not sure if you can handle toning the situation down and not parading to wherever he is and free him out of his… bounds. Confinement. Whatever that prevents him from living a normal life.

“M’also known as Six-Two sometimes. Whichever you like. Or you can call me ‘baby’.”

You burst out laughing, your soulmate following with his own joyous charming sound. “Up for debate. But I'm not gonna call you by numbers,” you insist. “So. Scorch?”

“The one and only.” Somehow you can see, feel, him grinning. Scorch’s form ripples, his warmth transmitted your way—he’s smitten. Blushing, even. You can tell. “You've got a pretty name, you know that? I'm so glad I met you! And I'm glad we're here.”

“Me too, Scorch,” you laugh gently. “At last. Right?”

He chuckles. “Yeah.”

He sounds young. You find that cute, but leaving you skeptical also. If you have to be the mature one between the two of you, perhaps so be it. You can learn.

“So where are you?” Scorch suddenly asks.

You don't feel the need to lie. “Coruscant.”

“Ah, the heart of the galaxy.”

You hum, nodding. “It's ideal.”

“Mm. For?”

“What I do to float my boat.”

“And that do you do?”

“Corporate,” you fib, “Under multiple bosses.”

And the topic gets lost there when Scorch merely responds with a hum. 

“What about you?” you attempt to reignite the conversation again, “What do you like?”

“Electrical engineering,” Scorch pipes up confidently. “And chemistry, to be honest! I like tinkering with cables and, uh, gas. Maybe engineering mathematics, too.” He stops talking., his form wavering with concern. “Um, you're getting a bit quiet there.”

If you have a mouth, you'd be gaping right now. “I didn't expect that.”

“Really?” Scorch's tone is amused, it's like almost questioning your mundanity. “What did you expect?”

“I don't know, something light. Food, drinks. Hobbies,” you chuckle, feeling stupid. Much. You can barely recall what the general curriculum you've learned from the temple. Maybe meditation techniques and lightsaber katas, along with negotiations—that one was drilled into you. “How about sports?”

“Meshgeroya,” he blurts out. “Limmie, I mean.”

You perk up. Finally. Something familiar. “You play limmie?”

“Mhm! Sometimes. I make a mean goalkeeper.”

“That's amazing, Scorch,” you laugh, relishing in his brilliantly iridescent form—your soulmate. He's happy—you can feel it. Maybe you look like that too—shining radiantly in his eyes, shimmering with love and joy. “So when can we meet?”

“Meet?”

And then he seems… hesitant all of a sudden. Something inside you dampens again that it shatters and almost hurts you.

“Maybe in another couple of years,” he says carefully. “Coruscant, right?”

You've stopped listening after ‘couple of years’. “Why not soon?” you nearly interject. “I've been, um, waiting. Too long.”

Scorch’s light dissipates as he ponders over your confession. “How long have you been waiting?”

You gulp. “Three years.”

Emotions took you to a much wider path long ago, and you've made peace with it—it became a part of you. You don't want to make him angry, painting a displeased frown onto his youthful features, or even force him to something he isn't ready yet. But waiting clogs your heart, and the need to unplug the drain to let it all out is stronger than what's good.

“We could've done so much in three years,” Scorch murmurs.

“Yeah.” Your eyes sting with upcoming tears. Do you even have eyes in this form? You see, but you can't reach. It's what dreams feel like. “But um, that's okay. A couple of years, right? I can wait. It's not like I'm going anywhere. We're already bound.”

“We're already bound,” Scorch repeats, his tone gentle. Almost guilty. Very guilty. The distance between you wanes and blinks and vapors, as if he wants to reach out to you and takes your hands in his. You'd like to imagine him actually does. “Listen… cyare,” he mutters, “I'm really sorry it took this long.”

“It's not your fault, Scorch,” you deflect quickly, feeling ridiculous. And illogical. Unlike you—the bounty hunter within you. “You've just gotten your Mark. It's okay.”

“If you'd been waiting much longer I don't think I'd forgive myself,” he insists, and the space wanes again. You can hear him hiss a breath, as if infuriated, but he controls his emotions well. Scorch's voice remains soft as he reassures you. “You were all by yourself. Out there and alone.”

“That’s okay,” you smile quiveringly, “I'm used to it.”

Your temple life is all you know. And now, bounty hunting and scraping by in the lower levels, where you don't even know if the Temple is keeping tabs on you still. Watching you closely. Sending their Shadows and Guards to hunt you down again. But Coruscant is as vast as it is rotten down far below, and you're thankful for that.

And now knowing Scorch, your soulmate, suddenly you don't want to be alone anymore.

“We can meet like this in the meantime,” Scorch says, his gleeful voice now gentle and calming—it easily reminds you of the fountain in the Temple. “You know what? This is gonna be my most favorite place to hang out. My soulmate is in it forever.”

Despite your disappointment, you smile. A moment like sunshine breaks through the bleak clouds and warms your skin, and you don't want to part from that feeling ever. It would break your heart otherwise, and it would break you even worse. It'd leave you battered, scraping by. It's like being punched by reality twice.

“Hey.” Scorch calls your name, and it rolls off his tongue beautifully. Like it's right. Like it's his right to utter your name like that. Like your name belongs for him to say. “You okay? You're quiet.”

“Mhm.” You sniff quietly. This contact has your longing cured, and you haven’t been happier—in fact you can't remember the last time, save your Knighting. “My favorite place is this grilled meatstick place in Uscru District,” you joke.

“Aww, too bad. Don't worry, sweets. I'll turn this place into your favorite too, how about that?”

A weak laugh escapes you, your heart clenching at his efforts. The world hasn't shifted—it’s all real, and ironically a very real dream. “So you ask me to keep dreaming about you?”

“Cyare, I'm not even asking. I want you to.” Scorch lets out a pleased sigh. You merely watch him, not knowing what to say, showered with the bliss of his presence. “Now that we've met, all I want now is to hit my bed every time I get the chance just so I can dream about you. Which is bad, I wouldn't be able to concentrate during the day. You'd be distracting.”

“Good,” you laugh, “I should be in your head every single waking moment.”

And for Scorch, your sweet-sounding laugh despite your dampened mood is good enough. “Don't worry, okay? I'll be with you as soon as I can.” He smiles, and it's so promising, making you feel so much safer than before, and so radiant that it'd be the one devouring your thoughts. “You have my word, cyare.”

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[sinsatmidnight]

30 Years Later

Pairing – Kim Minji (JiU) x Male Reader

Words - 3101

Sins – Smut, oral, sumata, shower sex

So...it's been a while. I have not been keeping up with what goes on Tumblr, I have to admit, and nor have I read any (most? I may have read a couple during this period) of the many stories that people have started after I stopped. I'm inevitably rusty, but I had this draft I started a long while back that I somehow got into the mood to finish, so I figured I may as well post it, just for fun. Maybe someone will enjoy it. Hopefully you like it if you read it! And no, I don't expect a significant uptick in activity from me, but I may pay more attention to some of the other stories being written. Working on this was not quite the healthiest thing (because uh, I may have overused a certain part of my body the last couple of days) and let's just say one of the reasons I'm posting this is because it already had a significant bit written. But I kinda wanna subject myself to more of this...abuse(?) now. Ugh I'm rambling, but anyways, hope everyone has a good day (or night)!

(2130 hours, 20 September 2220, Eternity)

It started out muffled. The droning sound breaking into your consciousness, jolting it to life. You have no idea what it is. Or where you are, for that matter. Your eyes are closed. But your ears are sharper now that your mind is actively concentrating on listening.

A voice. Female. You can’t make out words but she sounds calm. And then your eyes slowly open, almost as though forced open by an outside force. That’s when you remember.

“Condition is stable, consciousness gained, cryo pods are opening.” That calm, droning female voice comes through clear to you now. There is a soft hiss as the transparent door of your cryo pod slides to the side. The light outside your pod is quite soft, and yet at the moment to your eyes, it is blinding. Disoriented by your awakening, you lay in the gel bed as you try to get your bearings.

“Eden? Status update…oh, and what is the current date and time?”

The ship’s AI, Eden, responds in the electronically generated calm tone that all shipboard Ais use. “Welcome back, Commander. All of the Eternity’s systems are currently running optimally. All crew members are in good health. It is currently 2130 hours, 20 September 2220.”

Your mind does the math easily despite just coming back from the induced cryo-sleep. Thirty years. Well, that would be right. Crew members were supposed to be woken up after thirty years to run manual checks on the ship’s condition and look over all data collected automatically by ship sensors and the AI. They stay up for two weeks and then go back into cryo-sleep. And after the first thirty years, this is repeated every five years.

Your mind remembers that crew members aren’t woken up alone, they’re normally woken up in pairs as an additional safety measure. One person who can handle technical or mechanical issues on the ship, which in this case is you, and one more person who is medically trained to check on the sleeping crew and in case of medical emergency.

Your gel bed is softening; rapidly melting as you defrost and becoming less of a gel and more of a slime. A marvel of human technological ingenuity; the clear gel froze quickly, was non-toxic in case of accidental ingestion, while also serving as a shock-absorbent and anti-bacterial bed for cryo-sleep.

You need to get out and check who else was awakened with you. As your hands reach and hold on to the sides of the pod, you realise that you have an erection. Your mind immediately jumps back thirty years prior, to the minutes right before the crew enter cryo-sleep. It might have been from thirty years ago, but those are your last waking memories and they feel like just minutes ago instead.

You remember undressing before you enter your cryo pod; cryo-sleep has to be done naked and trying to unpeel clothing frozen to a person for years is painful. And that was when your eyes caught sight of the occupant of the pod opposite you.

With long dark hair and incredibly kissable lips, combat medic Kim Minji drew attention wherever she went. She was tall, gorgeous and had a body that drew a reaction from your own. As you watched her unzip her white bodysuit and slip out of it, stripping off her underwear and getting naked, you felt the blood rush to your penis and you were glad that she was too preoccupied with her own cryo-sleep preparations to look over at you. You ended up getting frozen before your erection could soften.

Back in the present, another female voice that definitely wasn’t Eden’s cuts into your thoughts. “You’ve had that for thirty years, Commander?’

As you stumble out of the pod, the melting gel dripping all over the floor, your eyes immediately catch sight of Kim Minji’s naked body standing outside her pod, the clear slime dripping off her body and giving it a shimmering sheen under the soft white lights of the cryo chamber. You quickly realise two things: that Kim Minji is your medically trained partner that you’re going to be alone with for the next two weeks and that your erection won’t be going down anytime soon despite your embarrassment at getting caught. You technically outrank her, but that doesn’t matter when there’s just two people awake on the ship.

Minji’s gaze is fixed upon your groin and very obvious erection and a smirk plays on her red lips. “Oh, Minji, I-“

Before you can think of an excuse, Minji cuts in. “Thanks for the compliment, I guess. I’ve never had a guy have a boner for me for that long.”

You smile sheepishly and try to change the subject. “Let’s go wash up before we start work.” At the far end of the cryo chamber was the doorway to another smaller room. A shower chamber with a row of showerheads which to wash off the slime with warm water before you got dressed. There were no partitions, they didn’t bother with them, given that everyone is naked in the cryo chamber anyway. And anyone outside the showers can see into them, given that the walls and doors are made of transparent shatter-proof glass.

You drip clear slime onto the silvery metallic floor beneath your bare feet and the metal doesn’t feel cool to your touch, but given that you were completely frozen minutes ago, that’s understandable. The two of you make your way towards the shower chamber, walking past the other cryo pods which stand up at 45-degree angles, glancing at the naked bodies of other crew members stored in cryo-sleep within them. The water from the shower feels warm to you, a nice comfortable temperature. Minji is next to you, the water flowing over her naked and fit body. It's not helping your erection. Her voice cuts into your thoughts. "I can feel some slime on my back still, could you help me scrub it off?" You hesitate for a moment but then your hand reaches forward and runs over her smooth back, swiping the slime off. You feel Minji's body shiver at your touch, and she lets out a soft moan.

You are sure that your erection is pointing straight up now. Not that it wasn't before, but this situation is just prolonging it.

"Oh, that's nice. Can you do it a little lower, please?" She asks, and your hands move further down. Your hands are caressing her pert ass now, the soap lather coating it and making it feel smooth. Minji is letting out soft moans and you are enjoying touching her. As you wash her ass, your fingers stray between her legs, rubbing against her dripping vaginal folds. She is wet and it is not the water causing this.

"You're doing a great job, Commander. But there's a lot more I need you to wash for me." You turn her around so that she is facing you. You look into her eyes and she is biting her lower lip. Minji has a perfect pair of breasts, firm but soft and a nice handful. They are covered with soap lather now and you find your hands moving forward to massage her tits. You pinch her pink nipples, feeling her tremble as you touch her. Minji leans into you, her wet body pressing against yours. She feels hot to the touch, as though her temperature has gone up.

"Look, I really feel like I should help you with that boner of yours." Minji whispers breathily. "Can I do that for you, Commander?" She has already reached down and taken your hard length in her hand, her thumb rubbing the head of your cock, spreading the precum that had gathered. She gives your cock a gentle tug, and it takes all of your willpower to not cum on her right then and there.

"Fuck, Minji, that's- that's fine." You let out an odd mix of strangled gasp that ends in a muttered assurance, as her soft hand continues to firmly stroke your erection.

"Thanks, Commander. I appreciate it." Minji presses those incredibly kissable red lips up against yours, and her tongue hungrily comes out to play. You reciprocate, even as your hands are busy continuing to explore her body. Her hands, on the other hand, are one of the most pleasurable experiences you’ve ever had as your wet cock is deftly and smoothly pumped and stroked.

With a wink, Minji drops to her knees, the water from the showerhead splashing her face and wetting her long hair. She presses her tits together and wraps them around your throbbing shaft.

It feels good and your body instinctively thrusts forward, your hips rocking back and forth, fucking her breasts. Your balls are tensing up, and you can tell you aren't going to last long. It is smooth and slick between her breasts and the tip of your cock is rubbing up against her lips with her tongue comes out to tease the tip. Your eyes stare at her as she looks back at you and with a smirk, Minji parts her lips, taking the head of your cock into her mouth.

The tip of her tongue swirls around the sensitive head, licking up the precum that continues to leak. Then, she starts bobbing her head forward and back, taking more and more of your shaft into her mouth, eventually releasing your cock from between her tits. Minji hums contentedly as she sucks and swallows your cock, and her hand is wrapped around the base, pumping you in time with the movements of her head. Minji’s other hand has drifted between her legs, and she starts to furiously masturbate as she blows you. Her slender fingers plunge in and out of her leaking vagina as she keeps her thumb vigorously rubbing her engorged clit.

As you lock eyes with the gorgeous medic on her knees in front of you, she gives you a sultry look, her lustful eyes peering into yours as she sucks you off. Minji’s expert tongue swirling around your shaft and the vibrations of her moans as she takes your dick deep into her throat very quickly becomes too much for you. Your hands need to grab something, to get control.

Your fingers run through her long hair and roughly grab hold of her head, pulling her towards you as you thrust into her mouth hard. You hear her gag a little, but she doesn’t stop with her movement. You feel the pressure building up, and your hips are moving of their own accord. Your cock is hitting the back of her throat, and your balls are tightening.

With a moan, you cum in her mouth. Thick spurts of cum erupt from your dick and fill her throat. She swallows it all, and stands up, licking those red lips. "That was tasty. It’s not every day you get to taste cum stored up for thirty years."

You barely register her words, breathing heavily. That was the most intense orgasm of your life. Your cock is still hard, but Minji is seemingly satisfied. For now.

Or maybe not. She steps away from you, and turns around, bending over. Her shapely ass is facing you, and her pussy is glistening. She looks back at you and wiggles her hips. "Can you help me clean down here too, please?"

You can't refuse Minji’s request. You have to return the favour, after all. You move towards her and rub her pussy. It is dripping wet, and her juices are flowing freely. You stick a finger inside her and feel her walls clench around it. She lets out a gasp, and pushes her hips back, as if wanting more.

"Oh, I really need it, Commander." She pants, as you continue to finger her. You pull out, and she lets out a groan. "Why did you stop?"

"Just making sure you're ready for me." You reply as you give her pert ass a quick spank, drawing a low moan from the medic. You position your cock at her entrance and push inside her.

She gasps and whimpers as you enter, and you feel her pussy walls tighten around your shaft. You start to thrust into Minji’s soaked pussy, and she groans while pushing her hips back to meet your thrusts. You grab her hips and pull her closer, helping her out in an attempt to get ever deeper inside her. She cries out in pleasure, as you fuck her as hard and fast as you.

It doesn’t take long before you are getting close to climax, and she is too. You can feel her walls tightening around your shaft, and her breathing is getting faster. You grip her hips tightly and pound her harder.

"Commander!" She moans, as she orgasms. Her juices flow over your cock, and you can't hold back any longer. You pull out of her and explode all over her ass and back, creating a sticky mess there. And then you plop down on the ground, all this exertion so soon after coming out of cryo-sleep has taken a lot out of you.

You both pant, catching your breath. Minji crawls over and kisses you deeply. "Thanks, Commander. I can't wait to work with you for the next two weeks." You can only nod breathlessly in response, your tongue wrestling with hers. Minji breaks the kiss and stands up, with her back to you. “Well, going to need your help with this mess here. Your fault, so you clean it up, sir.” Your gaze goes over her cum-glazed skin and you stand up to grab a sponge from the side of the room, lathering it up with some body wash from a dispenser. You start to work on cleaning her up, using the sponge to get your semen off her skin. But Minji is inherently distracting. It is clear whenever you touch her that she is affected by it. You hear some sighs of pleasure, even the occasional whine when your hands leave her.

This inevitably affects you and you are somehow hardening again down below. You make a split-second decision and suddenly press Minji's wet body up against the wall. You swiftly follow that up by sliding your semi-erect dick in between her soaked creamy thighs. You start to thrust in between her thighs, making sure that you brush against her pussy fold throughout.

"Oh, you're naughty, sir." Minji pants lustfully. You can feel the warmth of her vagina radiating through your thrusting member. You are quickly erect once more. This feels even better than her sucking and giving you a titfuck. "How is this, Minji?" You whisper into her ear.

"Fuck, Commander. That's… that's really good. Really, really good." She whimpers breathily, her body pushed up against the transparent wall, tits first. Your cock continues to slide between her thighs, teasing her pussy. You are both covered in soapy suds, the water from the shower spraying and splashing on the both of you. Her skin feels silky smooth and slippery to the touch. With each thrust, her ass and thighs clap loudly. You reach forward and fondle her tits, her nipples hardening and her breathing quickening. You keep thrusting, enjoying the feeling of her soapy thighs wrapped around your shaft. Minji is moaning and gasping with each thrust, and her breathing is getting faster.

Her legs are trembling, and her juices are flowing freely, mixing with the soap suds and water. Your balls slap against her clit, and she cries out in pleasure, her whole body shaking. You reach forward and grab her wrists, pinning her to the glass wall. She lets out a moan and arches her back. You kiss her neck and shoulders and continue to fuck her soapy thighs. She is whimpering and moaning with every thrust, and her juices are flowing freely, making her inner thighs and your cock very slick and slippery.

Your thrusting becomes faster and more urgent. Minji is definitely close to climaxing; you hear her moans and whimpers are getting less coherent and more urgent; you’re sure you catch some lust fuelled whining and babbling about wanting your cum and something about being fucked hard. Your cock is slamming against her pussy, and her walls are clenching around it, her juices leaking out. She is breathing heavily, and her legs are trembling.

You release one of her hands and guide it down to her clit, prompting her to start rubbing it furiously. Her fingers are a blur, and her moans become louder and more urgent. You continue to fuck those soaped-up milky thighs of hers, and she is practically screaming in pleasure, her voice echoing off the walls of the shower room. Not that you had to care about anyone hearing you. You did have an odd sort of audience in the rest of the crew outside in cryo-sleep, just beyond the transparent wall you have pressed Minji against.

Your cock is twitching and pulsating, and you can feel the pressure building up. You are both close to that final edge, and the only sounds are your heavy breathing, the splashing water, and the loud clapping sound of her ass and thighs slapping against your cock and balls.

You thrust forcefully into her thighs a few more times, and then you erupt. Your thick, creamy load sprays onto her thighs and the transparent wall, coating them in your semen. Her body shudders, and she cries out, reaching her own climax. Her juices flow over your shaft, and she slumps down, exhausted. You follow suit and collapse next to her. You both lie there for a while, trying to catch your breath. You do catch out of the corner of your eye, that Minji takes a few licks of your cum from the wall.

The two of you eventually manage to finish your shower and dry up, with you eyeing Minji the whole time as she puts that white bodysuit back and zips it back up. She catches your eye, bites her lip, and then smirks naughtily. You’re both relieved and regretful that your cock is worn out and needs rest. That would have brought it back up. You and Minji are both very well aware that you don't actually have much to do over the next couple of weeks, other than the occasional diagnostic check of the ship’s systems and such. The ship’s AI, Eden was there to handle the heavy lifting. And so, you're very much looking forward to the next couple of weeks alone with Minji.

[silence-ofthe-llamas]

More stuff inspired by the mecha AU but unfortunately not following the lore pls forgive (I don't know if they want to be tagged as it's not canon compliant as it were, but original concept by @/keferon!)

The awaited Jazz/Prowl chapter I promised and then promptly forgot to post! Warning for major character death (mentioned/off-screen). Sorry, Jazz...

Petteri sighed, long deep and heavy, as he walked down the catwalk to the mech.

Apparently, not long after he’d been stationed on the base, the mech had taken itself offline. The technicians had taken a look at it. They’d flown in specialists from China, from the US, even Iceland. None of them could explain what was wrong with it. It just… didn’t want to wake up any more. The AI had decided it had had enough.

They’d slated it for destruction. Petteri was to take one last inspection, one last look, to give it one more go, before they took it for scrap parts, cannibalised it to keep their other mechs going. He didn’t know why they sent him. He’d never done an inspection like this before – he was as out of his depth as a fish out of water. But the higher ups had pushed him forwards, Swindle was eager to claw his money back on what he’d pissed down the drain on this mech, as he’d so eloquently put it, and so here he was. An untrained eye glancing over a state of the art machine as if he knew a damn thing about it.

He felt so drawn to the mech, like he had a sense of duty towards them - maybe it was the fact that his arrival seemed to have triggered the change? That they had a strange familiarity about them? He didn’t know.

He twisted his ring on his finger, feeling it run across his skin.

The old him would have been thrilled to step inside of the mecha, the pinnacle of the programme he was the poster child for. The old port in the back of his head ached. Be careful if you interface, the technician had warned him, gulping his too hot coffee that steamed up his glasses. Your old gear isn’t up for the job. If you’re plugged in for too long, it will fry you nice and crispy.

But now, he was decrepit and grouchy and a warning against that programme. It will take everything from you. You will gain nothing back.

“Let’s get this over with.” Petteri sighed. Reaching the console, he paused for a moment to look at the mech. A dim blue visor, a black helm. The opening hatch was at its chest, an expanse of white with blue stripes. Black shoulders were either side, blades going up the arms. All sharp edges and smooth, sleek design. It was a damn shame to lose any of it.

With a lump in his throat, Petteri adjusted his tie and looked for the button that opened the hatch.

The chest cracked whilst his hands were still firmly on the clipboard. He froze as the entrance to the cockpit revealed itself, the floor sliding out to cover the gap between catwalk and mech. The lights twinkled invitingly, and Petteri looked around.

Nobody. Just him. It was the night shift - they tended to be a bit quieter, and there was no reason for anyone to be out in the hangar except for him. There were no alarms. The pilots were all sleeping – either recovering from the days fight (no casualties this time, thank goodness) or preparing for the next one.

Cautiously, he approached. Maybe his proximity sensors were still active, and detecting a pilot had automatically sent the command to open. His equipment may have been old and unmaintained, but it was still usable. It still responded when it received a ping. It made complete and total sense that the mech would be able to receive the message from the antiquated technology.

Right?

The cockpit was warm. He could feel the rumbling of online systems beneath his feet, and he ran his hand over the back of the chair.Well, the mech wasn’t exactly offline. But they weren’t online either. Just… stuck. Waiting for something. In stasis until the correct launch code had been received.

The cockpit closed near silently - it was only the click of the bolt sliding into place that alerted him that he was now locked inside of it. Tutting and starting to think that this was now some kind of joke that was going to be going too far, Petteri turned on his heel and clipped towards the console, beginning to type in the code to open them-

The room was suddenly bathed in blue light, and the sound system chimed. Petteri looked up at the screen.

[<3 Prowler <3]

The corner of his lips tugged down and his heart twisted painfully in his chest.

The joke had been mildly annoying a minute ago. Now it was downright cruel.

“That is NOT funny.” Petteri scowled, glaring at the cameras. “Stop that immediately. Let me out. Now.”

The door didn’t move. The message continued to be displayed on the screen.

Petteri felt a crack.

There was only one person - one person in the whole entire world, the universe, who ever called him Prowler. The ring was the only thing he had left of them, a heavy weight that choked him. To everyone else, he was Prowl. His callsign. Simple, easy, monosyllabic. Quick off the tongue and quick in the field.

But to Jasper? His Jazz? Prowler. Only he was allowed to call him that. It was private, something between them and them alone, something they didn’t have to share.

And it was taunting him on the screen.

[I MISSED YOU SO MUCH]

Prowl didn’t reply. His vision was going red, he could feel heat prickle up his spine and flow down into his hands clenching them into fists. The clipboard rattled and creaked beneath his fingers and he ground his teeth.

Emergency escape it was, then. He stalked to the button, flicking off the protective cover and making to press it when the message on the screen changed again. He glanced up at it more out of habit more than sense, and paused.

[CAN WE TALK? PLEASE? I’VE WAITED FOR SO LONG]

He loudly swore and threw the clipboard at the floor. Damn it all, damn his weak and pathetic self for falling for this. He’d felt a brief moment of accepting he would be engaging with whatever fucked up ideas his tormentors had cooked up for him, and the crack had widened.

Jazz would have taken the bait. He’d have been curious enough to do it.

He wasn’t Jazz. He never would be. But fuck if he wished Jazz had been the one who had made it instead of him - he’d navigate whatever was left with so much more grace than he had.

So he took a moment to furiously pace and calm himself enough to throw himself into the chair, arms folded crossly, and tapping his foot.

“Well? What else have you got to hurt me with?”

[I’M SORRY]

[I WANTED TO SEE YOU SO BADLY]

[I DIDN’T MEAN TO HURT YOU]

Prowl frowned at the screen.

“… Who are you?”

[DESIGNATION: JAZZ]

It was like a lance through his chest, and he winced. Prowl had avoided looking at or thinking of the mecha’s name to keep himself from feeling the agony of it. He held the ring a little tighter, pushing it up against his finger.

He knew Jazz’s heartbeat - how could he ever forget it? It was tattooed onto his heart. Its waves were engraved into his wedding ring, he stared at the imprints of it on his finger on the rare moments he removed it. The ring as as much a part of him as his limbs were, and in turn so was the sound of Jazz’s heart.

So, pray tell, why could he hear it in the mecha?

“Who are you really? My… partner, is dead.” He was gripping the arm of the chair tightly. He slowly released one hand, each finger plucking off from the arm rest, and pressed it to his mouth. The ring glinted - a thick band of blue encased in shiny silver.

He felt the mech jolt.

[YOU’RE STILL WEARING IT?]

Prowl glanced down at the ring, watching how it caught the light.

“Every day.”

[MY NAME IS JASPER KORHONEN. WE WERE OFFICIALLY MARRIED ON THE 23RD OF APRIL BECAUSE YOU DIDN’T WANT TO WAIT ANY LONGER, BUT WE HAD OUR WEDDING ON THE 27TH OF AUGUST AND THAT IS THE DATE THAT EVERYONE THINKS WE WERE MARRIED ON]

The number of people on the Earth who knew that were slim. Prowl knew those who did – many of them were now dead. The kind old lady at the council. Jazz’s brother. Jazz himself. The only two people alive on the planet who knew the real date were himself and Ironhide – and Ironhide only knew because he was his witness.

And Ironhide wasn’t the type to do this kind of thing.

“Oh, my god.” Prowls voice shook, and he tried to take a calming breath. “I don’t want to believe it. Is it really you?”

[IN THE FLESH. WELL. MESH? ARMOUR?]

“Jazz, please be serious, I am on the edge of another fucking breakdown.” Prowl held his face in his hands, planting his elbows onto his knees as he curled in on himself. His eyes burned and his vision blurred. He didn’t want to believe it. He couldn’t. No, he’d spent so long in stupid fucking therapy sessions that didn’t do anything to scrub the sound of every bone in the love of his life’s body shattering out of his head, so much time trying medications that made him feel like he really were dead and pointless meditation tasks and behaviour therapy and-

He sobbed. He sobbed, and he fought to breath against the flood that coursed through him.

And Jazz waited patiently. He waited so very patiently for him, he dimmed the lights to make it softer for him, and he felt the air warm like a hug.

“What happened to you?” He finally asked, his voice weak and raspy, his eyes sore and swollen. “You’re meant to be AI’s – why…”

[SHOCKWAVE WANTED TO SEE IF IT WORKED] Jazz replied. [THE AI’S ARE LIMITED. THEY DON’T HAVE THE REAL LIFE EXPERIENCE THAT WE DO, THE RANGE OR ABILITY TO TAKE ON CHALLENGES OUTSIDE OF WHAT WE KNOW]

“So he tested on you?” Prowl frowned.

[I WAS DYING, THERE WAS NOTHING TO LOSE]

He knew he was. He remembered. He could still hear it, still feel it, if he let himself slip. The sound of the priests reading him his last rights on the battlefield whilst he was trapped, unable to get to him, was a significant cause of trauma - he could feel himself choke on blood that wasn’t there, feel broken bones he didn’t have, struggled for breath that he was free to take-

[IT’S OKAY, PROWLER - BREATHE WITH ME]

Prowl waved him off. He felt sick.

“I’m okay. I’m okay. I’m.” He pressed his hand to his mouth, chewing on his index finger. “The brain deteriorates quite rapidly post mortem.” He got up to pace again. He felt the cameras in the cockpit train on him, watching him as he slowly walked up and down the short length of it. “He’d have to have been right there in situ with you…”

[I DON’T KNOW WHAT HAPPENED, I WAS QUITE PREOCCUPIED WITH THE WHOLE DYING HORRIBLY THING]

Prowl had thought about that day a lot. It had haunted him, a constant spectre on the edge of his awareness. And so, he’d spent a lot of time mulling over the details. There had been a malfunction. Something had gone… wrong. Very, very wrong. For starters, they’d been separated. The old suits – the original ones that he was a pilot of – worked best in pairs. They augmented each other, two halves of one whole. Where one went, the other was to follow. Instead of being giant hulking suits of armour, they were much more compact. To be crude, they’d often referred to them as their Iron Man suits. Simply complex layers of metal that sat against their skin, making them stronger, faster, harder to hurt. It was perfect for what they later learned were the infants.

On the day the first juvenile Quintesson arrived, they learned two things. One, that their suits were absolutely not enough, and two, they’d need to get much, much bigger.

But Jazz was the only one to get that hurt. There were some, like Prowl, who had walked away with minimal injuries. A broken bone, bruises, fractures, the like. And others, with slightly more traumatic ones. Amputations. Burns. Multiple broken bones.

Jazz was the only one who was condemned.

“They always planned to harvest you.” Prowl slowly said in shock. He looked up at the screens as a proxy for Jazz’s face. “They were waiting for their opportunity. You don’t think…?”

[WITHOUT A SINGLE DOUBT, THEY CAUSED MY DEATH. THOSE SUITS DIDN’T JUST BREAK LIKE THAT]

Reading the confirmation on the screen made him feel dizzy. What did they do? Where did they go with that information? They must all know. The scum goes straight to the top of the pot. Ultra Magnus? Was he involved? Would he even listen? What about their investors? Sentinel might be interested to hear that they were harvesting soldiers for their so-called-AI’s, but there was only so much influence he had with men like Zeta and Galvatron on the board...

[PROWLER?]

“Yes, dear?” Prowl felt the corner of his lip tug up in a smile. Damn, it felt good to be able to say that to him again.

[AT THE RISK OF SOUNDING LIKE AN IDIOT, CAN YOU INTERFACE WITH ME? I’VE BEEN WAITING FOR SO LONG, I DON’T WANT OUR ONLY CONVERSATION TO BE THIS. I WANT TO SEE WHAT YOU’VE BEEN UP TO]

He felt his hands drop to his sides. Two halves of him fought viciously.

His duty was to report this. His duty was to do something about this. The pilots deserved as much – the other potential victims deserved as much. Jazz deserved so much more than to be buried within metal casing, nothing more than a puppet to the people who put him there.

But fuck, he missed him. He missed him so, so much. Everything had been so cold and empty since he’d left, and he’d felt the warmth of his sun. It had begun to melt the ice that had formed around him…

He sat in the seat and buckled himself in. The helmet lowered into his waiting hands, and he put it on before activating the interfacing sequence.

Prowl expected the sharp sting. There always was one, no matter how many times you connected with someone. The initial rejection of two separate nervous systems, not recognising the other and primed to attack, followed by the gentle handshake between neural nets.

He still jumped. He felt Jazz chuckle.

“Yeah, yeah…” He muttered. He could feel a warm, familiar presence wrapping firmly around his own, and his eyelids fluttered closed and he leaned his head backwards to bask in the feeling of it.

“Don’t say anything about you knowing about me. Please.” Prowl felt phantom hands cradling his cheeks, a forehead pressed against his own. “The last pilot I had – he went missing not long after he figured it out. I’m an anomaly, Prowler – can I trust you to keep your head down? Just this once?”

He sighed. He’d always been so weak to him.

“I’ll do what I can.”

“Thank you, my love.”

Prowl could faintly see him with his eyes closed. If he focused on him, he vanished, faded away. He’d have to settle for the blurry image that felt like the sun.

“Now… tell me everything.” Jazz was grinning. He knew that much. And Prowl couldn’t help but grin back.

Two hours later, Prowl staggered out onto the catwalk, stumbling into the console. He held onto it for balance, digging the meat of his palm into his left orbital as he breathed in through his teeth. His previously pristine white shirt was spattered with red, his nosebleed being cast down from his breath. He counted back down from ten until the world stopped spinning again, and he found that he was not alone.

Swindle. He looked like a baby who had their lolly pop stolen. Prowl would have smirked if he had the energy to – he had been walking around with dollar signs in his eyes all day thinking of how much he could sell Jazz for. And behind him, Ironhide.

“’Hide.” Prowl forced himself to stand up straighter, wiping his nose on his sleeve. It bloomed red. “Get that mech back online and get me back on that programme right now.” He pointed at the back of his neck, where his implant was set, cradling the base of his skull, the skin around it red hot and inflamed. “And get me that upgrade. The mech responds to me.”

“B-but-!” Swindle began to protest.

“What did you do in there?” Ironhide demanded, reaching forwards to catch Prowl as he stumbled again. “You’re bleeding – you were in there for hours. You didn’t interface, did you?”

“I did.” He looked up at him with a wide grin that hadn’t been on his face since Jazz had taken his last name. “It felt just like the old days.”

Swindle gave him a strange look that Ironhide missed, but Prowl could have spotted from a mile away now that he knew to look for it. He returned it with narrowed eyes. He knew. Prowl knew.

I know what you did to my husband, you rotten bastard.

And it would be a cold day in hell before he even began to forgive any of them for it.

[adaginy]

The Big Guide to Humans: Home Planet

Humans come from a small, rocky planet, called Terra or Earth or some other translation of "dirt," where they lived on the land surface despite the planet being mostly covered (area and volume) by water. They do, however, measure temperature in a scale based approximately on the freezing and boiling points of water (at their average atmospheric pressure), set to 0 and 100. As with "years" (see lifespan and development), your local human can probably tell you the conversion to local measurements, if the knowledge is not in your local storage and the numbers are not being converted automatically by your translation dock. The planet's rotational axis is tilted relative to its orbital plane, resulting in "seasons," a predictable progression of local temperatures between local lows to local highs and back over the course of an orbit, despite its nearly round trajectory. This is in addition to the smaller temperature changes of the day/night cycle. Terran weather temperatures range from -90, below the freezing point of radon, to 60, nearly the boiling point of bromine, though humans mostly live where the weather over the course of a year ranges between -20 to 45.

Humans infamously breathe oxygen, but Terra's atmosphere is actually mostly nitrogen. The 23% oxygen concentration is enough for fires to sustain easily, assuming fuel and initial ignition, but low enough that fires smother nearly immediately when fully covered. Terra's rotation and heat from Sol combine to cause a predictable pattern of convection known as prevailing winds. Winds are often strong enough to move light objects without causing damage, not uncommonly strong enough to make it difficult for humans to move against it, or stronger, and sometimes strong enough to cause damage to buildings. This is in addition to regional threats of "extreme" winds, most notably tornadoes (fast-moving, localized funnels of winds strong enough rip buildings apart and fling heavy objects) and cyclones (weaker than a tornado, but traveling slowly and raining so copiously that shelters are also damaged by water).

Having such copious rain that buildings are damaged can happen outside of a cyclone, as well. While humans can swim surprisingly well for a non-liquid-dwelling species, this water has usually picked up so many contaminants that it is capable of overwhelming a human's immune system if it enters their body via their mouth or damaged skin.

Alternately, little or no water may fall on an area that does not usually experience water scarcity. The resulting "drought" kills plants and animals that cannot be moved. This is less predictable, but takes multiple years to come into effect. A vegetated area facing drought, however, is at particular risk for a wild fire, a fire that becomes too large and fast-moving to be smothered. Areas as big as residential ships can burned before the fire runs out of fuel or is able to be drenched.

Terra's planetary surface is made up of several pieces of "crust" floating on top of its liquid center. At the edges of these pieces, or at cracks in the pieces, huge pieces of crust can be forced upward or buckle under the pressure. Done slowly, so slowly no one notices, this produces mountains. Done quickly, it produces "earth quakes." Some earth quakes can only be sensed by sensors, but others cause buildings to shake apart. Humans know where these edges are and, instead of not building there, they design buildings that are able to resist being shaken. If the locus of the shaking is near or under the ocean, it can cause a fast-moving, towering wave called a "tsunami." An average tsunami is capable of obliterating buildings when it reaches shore, and then sucking any survivors into the ocean when it recedes (with strength far past even the best human swimmers). As with earth quakes, humans design buildings to survive being struck by this wall of water. The same edges and cracks also produce volcanoes, places where the earth's liquid center oozes or bursts out of the ground. This liquid will be at temperatures of 700 or more, above the melting temperature of radium and on past the the melting temperature of gold. It can cause fires when it touches things in addition to being so heavy and/or voluminous that it covers items in its path. Humans generally do not build very close to volcanoes that are frequently or explosively active. However, if a volcano is only likely to erupt once or twice within a human lifespan, or tends to ooze rather than burst, they will simply use several sensors to know when it will happen so they can get out of the way. Because they all originate in the same geological source, it is common to have two of these crack-based issues at once and not unusual to have all three.

Sometimes, rain falls in tiny frozen pieces, covering the ground in a layer of ice chips. Sometimes it falls in large rocks of ice, breaking and shattering what it strikes. Sometimes the temperature is anomalously hot or cold in places where the wildlife and human dwellings are not adapted to those temperatures. Sometimes massive sparks of electricity shoot from the sky to the ground. Sometimes the side of a mountain — or the ice chips piled on the side of the mountain — will fall off and slide down, burying and crushing everything in the way. Sometimes erosion under the surface will cause the surface to give way, leaving a hole in the ground big enough to swallow a person or a building. Sometimes the liquid inside Terra doesn't burst through the surface, but super-heats water until it does. While none of these features are unique to Terra, even among inhabited planets, it is uncommon for an inhabited planet to have so many of these features and it is nearly unique among humans to choose to live in afflicted areas. It can be helpful to understand, when one is wondering why humans and other life from their planet are "like that," that life only evolved on Terra once* and then experienced a burst of population up to and beyond local carrying capacities. Every species, including the plants, shares a common ancestor, and every creature that was ever born (hatched, sprouted, divided, etc) faced immediate competition from other, similar creatures. The ability to run faster, eat weirder, live hardier, spread farther provided an immediate benefit. Furthermore, in addition to the horrors described in this chapter of this guide, in Terra's planetary history there are multiple near-extinction-level events — new chemosynthetic species producing upheavals in the atmospheric gas balance, an asteroid strike, massive volcanic eruptions choking the air with ash and blocking energy from Sol — that further pressed evolution. Terra, truly, has earned its reputation as a death world — but less so for the life that has formed there.

*there is a long-standing idea that cephalopods may have originated separately, but this is really only taken seriously by the Chiparsen, who used to colonize via panspermia. While the Unified Government no longer accepts this as a valid territorial claim, the Chiparsen still hope to prove relation in order to put forth a diplomatic demand that Terrans remove cephalopods from their diet.

[3ic95id864pg]

TFO Au A New Start

⋆.˚✮💜✮˚.⋆🌌⋆.˚✮💜✮˚.⋆

Chapter 1:

A new world lies ahead

⚠️Hey, everyone! This is my first fanfic, so I apologize for any mistakes. Don't expect very long chapters. Feel free to share your thoughts and give me tips!⚠️

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

Under a starlit night illuminated by the glow of a full moon, the sky was torn apart by a spacecraft spiraling out of control, scattering sparks and smoke like a luminous trail. The impact was catastrophic, reverberating across the mountains like a metallic scream echoing through the cliffs. The spacecraft came to rest, almost camouflaged among the rocks and vegetation, while silence prevailed. Over time, it was overtaken by the local fauna and flora, until one day, something changed. A faint light pierced the darkness, accompanied by a hum and metallic clicks. Riven awakened, her sensors glowing as her systems slowly adjusted to the chaotic environment around her.

🗨"Ughhh… What just happened?"

I woke up on the floor of the control room, my systems struggling to reboot as I tried to comprehend my surroundings. Slowly, I began to rise, feeling weak and, to be honest, somewhat rusty. My movements were accompanied by the groans of worn joints, and when I finally stood upright, my sensors registered the chaos around me. The control room was in complete disarray—small debris, broken objects, and fragments of equipment scattered everywhere. The air was heavy with the acrid smell of burned circuits. I let out a long sigh, laden with exhaustion and frustration.

🗨"Primus… This place has turned into a disaster."

Still processing the events, my sensors started focusing on the control panels. I walked over to them, sliding my metallic hands across their damaged surfaces, searching for any functionality within the instruments. Most of the data was fragmented or unreadable, with flickering screens and erratic signals. After a few moments of analysis, I realized it would be impossible to assess the damage solely from inside the ship.

🗨"Staying trapped in here won't help," I muttered, gathering courage. My eyes shifted to the hatch beside me. I walked over to it, each step resonating against the metal floor. As I opened the hatch, fresh air rushed into the ship, bringing with it the scent of damp earth and vegetation. I paused for a moment, taking in the exterior surroundings—rugged rocks and dense plants enveloped the spacecraft. And when I looked back, I realized my ship had crash-landed beneath a massive mountain, and in the forced landing, a crater had opened up at the mountain's base, forming a sort of tunnel…

Hesitantly, I took my first step outside. The landscape seemed serene, yet at the same time, held an air of mystery. I knew I had to explore to understand where I was. So, I began wandering through the area, gazing around and analyzing the life forms of this new planet. I noticed that almost everything here was organic. Green dominated the environment, the sky had a comforting shade of blue, and I encountered native species I had never seen before in my life…

I advance through the forest, the sensors still on alert, analyzing every detail around me. But something changes. My pace slows, and I set aside the automatic functions.

Now, I don't just record—I see. I feel. My feet gently touch the grass, fresh and soft like a green mantle. My hands glide through the treetops, exploring the texture of the leaves. I look up at the sky and witness a spectacle: winged beings tracing graceful paths against the infinite blue.

Suddenly, I notice something. A small animal is standing a bit further ahead, hidden among the bushes. Its color is brown and looks adorable, with a few light patches near its paws. It has thin legs and dark eyes that shine calmly.

I stop and observe every detail of it. Time seems to stand still. When I finally take a step forward, the sound of a branch breaking under my foot disrupts the peaceful moment. The animal’s pointed ears perk up, and its eyes fix on me for a few seconds. Then, it leaps agilely, running between the trees and quickly vanishing into the greenery.

Without thinking much, I chase after it, following the trail it left behind. After a few minutes, the forest begins to open up. In front of me, there is a wide open field, full of tall plants swaying gently in the wind. Further ahead, the ground slopes down into a serene valley…

🗨"I had never seen a place as beautiful as this before… But what should I do now? My ship is too damaged to fly again, and I have no idea if this planet has Energon."

Will I find a source of energy in time? If not, how long can I last… months, maybe less? I need to act quickly before it's too late.

I begin exploring the area when, suddenly, in the distance, I spot a structure resembling some sort of tower. It seems to be emitting a signal.

🗨"How strange… Why would there be a tower in the middle of nowhere?"

Curious, I start walking toward the structure. As I get closer, the tower becomes more prominent against the landscape. It is imposing, made of a metallic material that reflects the light, with intricately designed lines that catch my attention. When I finally reach the base of the tower, I decide to use my sensors to scan it, searching for information that might explain its origin and purpose.

During the scanning process, I notice the tower emitting unusual frequencies, as if it is sending a message. However, the patterns are unfamiliar to my systems.

🗨"Hold on… If this tower was placed here, it could mean-"

Suddenly, I hear a loud and thunderous sound. I look up at the sky and notice that it starts to darken, taking on a deep shade of gray. Small streaks of blue light begin to glow on the horizon. Gradually, the wind grows stronger, causing the vegetation to sway rapidly and chaotically. I carefully observe the phenomenon and realize that small drops of a transparent liquid start to gently fall on me.

I realized that maybe it wasn’t a good idea to stay there because of the lightning that was getting stronger and closer. So, I decided to turn back and return to where my ship was. The sky started to darken quickly, and the wind grew stronger. I quickened my pace to reach my shelter faster.

🗨"Haaa… finally."

I managed to return to the cave where my ship was. I looked at it and saw that, given the extent of the damage, it would take quite some time to repair everything.

🗨"Urgh… looks like I'm going to be stuck here for a while…"

Suddenly, I heard the sound of something dripping. I turned to the entrance of the cave and saw a phenomenon: several transparent droplets began to fall from the sky in large quantities. They made a loud yet relaxing sound.

I went to the entrance, sat on a rock, and watched the phenomenon unfold before me.

🗨"What could this be?"

I wondered what else this planet might have and how I was going to manage from here on out.

Hours passed. I was inside my ship, trying to fix the control panels. They had some cracks and were sparking a little. After a while, I managed to stabilize the controls and tried searching for signs of Cybertronian life nearby. I waited for the panel to give some signal, but the system found nothing. On the one hand, that was good—it likely meant I was on a planet so remote that the chances of a Decepticon showing up here were low. But, on the other hand, it also meant I was too far away to ask for help from any Autobots in case something happened.

Hours have passed…

I sit in the control cabin, the steady glow of the panels casting hues of purple and melancholia across the room. My fingers glide over the buttons and keys, but my mind is somewhere else entirely. A stubborn thought lingers, refusing to let me go: that tower in the forest….

That thing… it was definitely not built by any Cybertronian. It was something entirely different, crafted with a technology that, while distinct, seemed less advanced than ours. This construction sparks a flood of possibilities in my mind. Could it mean that intelligent life exists on this planet? And if so… who or what are they?

The question echoes relentlessly in my thoughts. Would they look anything like me? Or would they be utterly unrecognizable? Imagining their appearance, their behavior, their intentions—it only makes my unease grow stronger. Whatever they are, I think it's best to stay hidden for now. I have no idea what these beings might be like… and, perhaps more importantly, whether they would be peaceful.

I let out a sigh, trying to quell the anxiety bubbling up inside. Maybe it’s wiser to watch, wait… and hope they don’t find me first.

I get up and leave the control room, walking leisurely toward my quarters. As I stroll down the corridor, dimly lit by faint purple and blue lights, I can feel the quiet stillness surrounding me.

When I finally reach the door, I open it and step inside. My eyes immediately fall on the mess: a cluttered desk and a few scattered objects on the floor.

I start tidying up, carefully putting everything back in its place. After a few minutes, satisfied with the result, I lay down on my recharging platform. Staring upward, lost in thought, I catch myself wondering:

🗨“What could have happened to them…?”

Gradually, my vision starts to blur, and the darkness begins to take over.

Suddenly, something surged into my mind—a vivid and haunting memory. I was fleeing the war in Iacon. Chaos was absolute, and the horizon seemed swallowed by suffocating black smoke. Explosions reverberated incessantly, the ground trembling as if the planet itself were crying out in pain. The sky was consumed by flames, devouring everything within their reach. The city had been reduced to ashes and ruin, and desperate cries mixed with the deafening sounds of battle filled the air.

I ran without looking back, frantic, until I reached a hidden cave where I had prepared a refuge. The uneven ground was littered with metallic debris and fragments of lives lost. When I arrived at the entrance of the cave, I turned briefly, just to see Iacon one last time. The devastation was so overwhelming that it would forever haunt my mind.

Inside the cave, my little sanctuary felt insignificant compared to the chaos raging outside. I gathered everything I had managed to save—equipment, supplies, and the memories that still remained of that place.

I rushed to my ship, camouflaged among the rocks. It wasn’t very large, but it was powerful enough to get me out of that nightmare. As I entered, I activated the engines—a fleeting moment of hope amidst the despair. The interior lights flickered on, preparing the panel for escape. I took one last look at Cybertron, now a planet ravaged by war.

The ship took off, piercing through the dark and empty sky. As I distanced myself, the flames and explosions began to fade, swallowed by the endless darkness of space. My only thought was to find a place where I could start over—far away from the chaos, pain, and death I had left behind. Now, I was alone, clinging to the faint hope that the Autobots had managed to survive as well.

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁.𖥔 ݁ ˖ ✦ ‧₊˚ ⋅. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

I abruptly open my eyes and realize that it was all just a dream. A wave of loneliness washes over me. I get up lazily and, as I make my way back through the corridors to the control cabin, I settle into the command seat. I switch on the panels and begin reviewing my work from the previous night

As I prepare to head out and explore the forest, I pause to analyze my internal systems, feeling a mix of excitement and energy coursing through my structure. I move to one of the carefully designed compartments inside the ship and retrieve a staff, crafted with the most advanced Cybertronian technology. It is my proudest creation. I hold the staff firmly for a moment, admiring its sleek metallic design, and then activate a discreet button on its side. Instantly, it begins to shrink, transforming into a compact and easy-to-carry object. I carefully store it in a compartment integrated into my core, ready to be used whenever necessary.

As I step out of the ship, I close the hatch, hearing the mechanical echo as it locks securely. The moment feels significant as I prepare for my transformation. I adjust my stance, realign my joints in a swift motion, and propel myself into the air. I feel my form reconfiguring—metal plates shifting, gears turning, and energy flowing through my structure—as I take on my vehicle mode. Now transformed into a sturdy, four-wheeled vehicle, I begin my journey. The dirt road I follow is narrow, full of twists and surrounded by dense vegetation, but it leads directly to the forest that awaits me...

To be continued...

[goodolddumbbanana]

[Sun X Dark Sun] Ask

TW: It kinda toxic, and have some manipulated theme under but Dark Sun still a very nice person though.

The cold feeling woke Sun up. There should have been someone beside him, but now it was just an empty cushion. The wind blew against the curtain, flickering white in the night with the faint light of the tiny stars of the sea and water, of the rolling waves and the dawn.

A shadow of sunlight flashed beside the window, looking too close yet so far away. The person's shoulders trembled slightly, as if they wanted to do something crazy, as if their body was here but their soul had already wandered somewhere.

As if they were about to disappear.

"Can't sleep again, Sun?"

He didn't even get out of bed, too familiar with himself to know that even his sleepy, tired voice was enough to wake them from their daydreams.

There was a brief screech, and the buttercup-colored animatronic with pearly eyes turned, totally startled, looking back at him with a vague, almost averted gaze.

“What’s wrong?”

Sun tilted his head. The darkness had made Sun’s eyes still not adjusted, but he could still see clearly the way they hadn’t answered yet, with their hands clasped roughly together, with the timid and anxious look as if what they were about to say would anger Sun.

“I want to go home.”

Their voices echoed in the quiet space, full of trembling fear and determination. The darkness fell on their faces, making those silver eyes glow, avoiding Sun’s gaze.

Only the steady ticking of the clock filled the room.

It was really a surprise, ah, actually no… Technically, Sun had known this would come sooner or later.

Looking at them, as alert as a newborn deer, it made Sun’s sadistic side rise, making him wonder what would happen if he just said no.

Would that little heart break in two?

Or would they persist in trying to escape?

But Sun had played this game long enough to know that sometimes a soft touch was much worse than being tortured day after day.

“Okay, you can go.”

Sun yawned. His eyes rolled up to the ceiling with a dull gaze, nothing but endless clouds.

He had specially designed this room, so that every time he woke up, the sensor would automatically change this space to a sunny place.

Technically, they both have rooms, but Sun was too scared, and the sight of them screaming and crawling to his door night after night was very pathetic and sad. 

So, about three days a week, he would voluntarily bring his pillow to sleep with them.

They always turned away, stiff and alert like a lamb about to be slaughtered, but when they slept they moved closer to him, clinging to him with a feeling almost as desperate as ghosts wanting to feel a little warmth on the metal skin of the living.

It was pathetic, Sun thought one night as he played with their rays, seeing their tears soaking his fingers, dripping onto the pillow, like pearls forming on Sun's face.

They no longer talk in their sleep… but sometimes...

"I'm sorry Moon! I'm sorry Moon!! Please forgive me…"

The person crying in the dark looked too familiar to Sun's taste, with a worried despair, and a loneliness so painful it was suffocating, it could be felt in the air.

... They cried so silently, dreadfully, always huddled together in a fetal position, and yet, remembering nothing in the morning.

"What?--- Really??!"

"You want to go, then go. I don’t want to force you to stay here forever. You can go back to your old home, if you want. Though…”

Sun stood lazily, pulled the sheet over himself, and stepped out. The fine silk brushed his arms, hugging Sun’s calves like a butterfly kiss. The wind blew past Sun’s heels, the scent of the sea penetrating his senses as he drew closer to Sun.

They were hesitant, nervous, frozen like newborn fawns, as if unsure of what he intended to do next.

He could strangle them or push them into the sea, and they would still let him, too freeze to be able to do anything.

This confused compliance, he would call it cute if it weren’t the leftovers of Moon and Nexus.

Sun didn’t like other people putting their hands on his things, even if they were in the past.

And Sun didn’t want those reminders to be washed away, floating like mud, dirtying what he had cleaned up. To remember this was the way he used to be.

They stood side by side, too close, too close. Red like a storm, like the destruction of dawn swirling into cold, lost white, like nothingness and the crack of an empty vase.

There was the clanging of bells, the ruffles touching. Sun’s forehead pressed against theirs, pinning them against the window frame, blocking any escape they could think of.

“Tell me, is it still your home? Is someone waiting for you there? That would be the question… don’t you think?” Sun smiled, he touched their fingertips, humming to the knuckles and the crimson ribbon that lay neatly in Sun’s hand.

“…”

“Maybe Lunar… Or Earth… They might be so desperate to forgive you, to want you back, to make things right again.”

“But Sun, do you think you can do that?”

“With the Moon’s blood still so fresh on your hands?”

There was no response. As always, they wished for something in return but were too cowardly, too pitiful to dare to do it themselves.

Even now, when they were uncomfortable with the way he played with the sunbeams above their heads, they did nothing, even leaned closer, too hungry for the continuity that only he could provide.

Pulling their hands up, Sun pressed his lips gently to their wrists, both comforting and commanding, another chain around Sun’s neck.

“It’s okay, if that’s what you want,” Sun whispered. “Just know, you’ll always have a place here, with me when they leave you again.”

“I trust you’ll make the right decision.”

His shawl was draped over Sun’s shoulders. The wind blew, carrying the scent of sunlight, and the waves surged. A melody hummed along the corridor as he walked…

“Dont make me disappointed.”

[loopstagirl]

Midnight Snack

Just a bit of brotherly fluff for @flashfictionfridayofficial's prompt this week.

Word count: 1000

Scott’s senses were tingling.

With a groan, he threw back the covers and rolled from bed. There was no point trying to go back to sleep now. His brothers always mocked him for his ability to just know when something was wrong, but that didn’t stop them from listening to those same instincts when it suited them.

This wasn’t a collapsing building sort of wrong, though. It was much closer to home.

He padded out of his room on silent feet, not pausing to grab a top. The island was hotter than usual, and he welcomed any breeze he could find.

He pushed open Virgil’s door. A deep snore was his only hint there was someone in the bed. Despite the heatwave, Virgil was still buried under his covers, just the top of his head poking out. Smiling, Scott retreated and shut the door.

Alan was the opposite. Limbs splayed in all directions and lying on top of the covers. His head was thrown back, mouth open, but he, too, was fast asleep. Scott couldn’t resist watching the rise and fall of his chest for a few moments, finding it soothing. But it wasn’t Alan who needed him.

Habit made him open John’s door. Of course, the room was empty. Hovering in the doorway, he touched his watch, sending the faintest vibration up to space. If John was awake, he’d answer. If not, he wouldn’t feel it.

Nothing. His space-bound brother was also lot in dreams, although Scott prayed they were good ones after the few days they’d had.

He didn’t bother checking Gordon’s room. He didn’t need to now he knew the other three were resting. Instead, he stole downstairs, glancing into the lounge as he did so. The automatic lights were off around the pool: Gordon wasn’t out there, either. However sneaky he tried to be, he couldn’t get around the sensors – which was the exact reason their dad had installed them in the first place.

There was a light on, however. It wasn’t really a surprise it was coming from the kitchen. Scott nudged open the door, blinking in the soft glow. Gordon was sat on a bar stool, head resting in his hands, slumped against the table. He didn’t give any sign that he’d heard his big brother, but Scott knew he had. It was harder to sneak up on Gordon than him – and that was saying something.

He slipped onto the seat opposite, waiting. He didn’t say anything, knew he didn’t have to. It took a good ten minutes before Gordon lifted his head. He looked exhausted, red-rimmed eyes and dark bags betraying how much sleep he hadn’t been getting. But more than that, he looked miserable.

“Tell me,” Scott said softly. His tone was a mixture of command and plea, knowing Gordon needed to let whatever it was off his chest.

“It’s just…” Gordon breathed deeply for a few moments. But then he pushed himself into a more upright position and looked Scott in the eye. “So many rescues, lately. Do we even make a difference?”

Scott smiled gently. Gordon was always the lightest of sleepers out of all of them, and no doubt the heat had been keeping him up despite the tiredness caused by the rescues. But while exhaustion may have given voice to his words, it hadn’t planted that thought. Who knew how long this had been bugging Gordon?

“168,” Scott said. Gordon blinked.

“Huh?”

“168 people. That’s how many we’ve had contact with over the last two weeks. Sure, some of them would’ve been fine without us. But you know a lot wouldn’t have been. Especially those fires.”

“168,” Gordon repeated softly. “That’s how many we’ve-,” he trailed off, as if saying it was just too big.

Scott nodded. “Saved, yes. And 38 were you alone when you got that trawler to safety.”

“Well, Virgil-,”

“Gave you a lift there, and that was it. You saved those people, Gordon. You let them go home to their families and loved ones that night. Why don’t you ask them if we make a difference?”

Gordon managed a weak smile. But a shadow was shifting in his eyes. This wouldn’t be the end of it: the next hard spell would bring those same doubts back, for Gordon, or any of the others. But for now, Scott hoped that nightmare had been put to rest for the time being.

He stood up. Gordon looked surprised.

“That’s it? You’re going?”

“While my bed is calling me, no,” Scott said. He crossed the room, grabbing a couple of spoons before opening the freezer. The kitchen tiles were bliss on his bare feet. “There’s something we both need more than sleep right now.”

He heard Gordon shift behind him as he rummaged to the back.

“I’m not in the mood for a beer.”

Scott shot a scathing look over his shoulder. “Since when do we keep beer in the freezer?”

He pulled out his prize, dumping it on the table between them and passing over a spoon. Gordon’s eyes lit up.

“Chocco-chunk,” he half-moaned. “I thought Al had eaten it all.”

Scott winked. “I hid it the last time he was raiding the freezer.”

It was already half eaten. Gordon wasn’t the first to need an emergency sweet treat lately, and Virgil had helped him make a good dent in the ice cream last week.

As Gordon attacked it, smacking his lips in delight at the ice-cold sensation, Scott smiled and prised some out for himself. He wasn’t generally a big ice-cream eater – that was John – but there was something about a middle of the night crisis session where it was the only thing that would do.

As the coldness melted on his tongue and he felt his entire body temperature drop, Scott relaxed. Gordon’s shoulders had softened, his posture had straightened, and the look in his eye gave away Scott wouldn’t be getting much more if he didn’t hurry up.

In other words, back to normal.

[cherrsnut]

Hostage - Chapter 3

Finnick Odair x Healer!Reader

Summary: Up until now, your life has been a solitary one. Being the sole owner of an herbal shop, and apothecary to many fishermen who have been injured. Just when your life seemed to follow the routine you were so used to, your life turns a 360 when you’re suddenly taken away for the 67th Annual Hunger Games. This turn of events forces you to accept the idea the Grim Reaper is stalking close behind you, faster than you had hoped for. 

Tags: Extremely Slow Burn, Eventual Smut, Angst, Typical THG Violence, Forced Prostitution, Forced Lab Rat, Injury, Mental Health Deterioration, Psychological/Physical Torture, Death, Alcohol/Drug Consumption, Medical Malpractice, Fluff (bc they deserve it).

Word Count: 6k

Previous // Next

Chapter 3

The shimmering light of the moon reflected the pine trees of a never-ending forest. It had been a while since you’d left the sight of the sea, and with that so did the comfort of your homeland. 

You weren’t sure just how deep into the night you were, the only indicator was the high position of the crescent moon,  and you guessed it was late. 

You were at the salon, or at least the replica of a salon inside the car of a traveling train. It was as quiet as the night offered. You tried to mimic the silent stillness from the moon, all because it wasn’t in your best interest in waking up the rest.

The lights had turned on automatically, probably with some sort of motion sensor that detected your sneaky movements. It startled you, it was one of those things you got easily used throught the sunny day, not so much during the night.

You thought of turning around, worried that someone took notice of your presence, but your stubbornly nature breathed in your ear to keep going, and it embarrassed you the idea of returning back to your room, after all the self convincing through the pillow, so you were committed on what you had set out to do.

The living area was big. It connected all three rooms, the kitchen, that adopted a smaller size than in a regular home; next to it was the dining room, which consisted of a large wooden table accompanied by the chairs of the same material and colour; and then a normal salon, with its shelves and books, comfortable couches and armchairs, with the TV, the one you had been seeing earlier that day. You could only but respect the creator for its clever interior design.

Your eyes scanned the room you just walked in. You had seen the alcoholic beverage when you all were tracing a plan, or better said, attempted to trace a plan.

You had taken notice of its presence, the delightful idea you’d drink it later tied a noose around your mind, and you were content to announce the time has come for its consumption.  

With the distinct shape and light glass color, you knew it was white wine. The name of the brand was unfamiliar to you; but with its inky and sophisticated handwriting, one that could only belong to the signature of a fancy family. As soon as that thought crossed your mind, you knew the wine would live up to it exquisite taste you were forming in your mouth. 

That's why you wanted to try it in the first place. Just like the many delicious pastries you had tried merely hours ago. Once the succulent sweet taste bombarded your tongue, you knew the cook’s trained fingers had been blessed by the sin of gluttony itself. The strawberries at the very top was enough to make you believe it to be an addicting forbidden fruit, one you were glad 

you had been honored to try out.

Your mouth watered at the idea of what a good wine would be considered between the rich society. Would it be more bitter? more sweet? more refreshing? would it be thicker? 

There was only one way to find out.

You looked at the kitchenette, roaming your eyes all over surfaces of it. Silver colors shone throughout the metallic counters, filled with dusty spices, all collected from the unique lands of the Districts throughout Panem. They sat quietly on the kitchen counters, ready to be used at any given moment. 

You walked over there. You realized the light bulbs couldn’t cover the whole salon, and it was especially dark over the kitchen area. With the many corners and countertops, it casted many shadows to whatever hidden treasure lay there, and you hoped to find your drink beneath those lurking shadows.

And you did. Just like what you had thought, the sharp shadows camouflaged your drink. This piece of concealed alcohol though, was not on its own. It had been placed along other alcoholic beverages, from rose wines, to different versions of rums. All in carefully and delicately crystal bottled designs, with odd edges and shapes, but it still screamed for its exclusive taste. 

You went to grab onto your preferred wine choice, the white wine your mind lingered ever so slightly for the past hours, and grabbed a glass, which consisted  of rummaging through the kitchen metallic cabinets. 

And ice cubes, you nearly forgot about them. You thanked the Heaven’s when you found them, it was a definitely easier find, all silently still in the freezer.

You walked out with your self-proclaimed possessions, and plopped them down on a rather small table by a funny looking mustard couch. You had to start getting used to the colour explosion the people of the Capitol seemed to be overjoyed with.  

You went to grab the foggy beige bottle, a good indicator of the type of whine that laid inside. You went to fully seat of the couch, more like you willingly fell on top of it. Fingers quickly snacthed the bottle. And as you handled its throat, you heard something similar to light growls coming through the wall. All your connected joints stopped, in an attempt to make out what exactly what exactly were the noises. The tone was very much low, and all the words were scattered around into incomprehensible words. You pressed your ear further into the only thing separating the two of you.

By that point, you had realized the low sounds was a conversation that was happening on the other side, making the wall the only barrier between the two of you. A frustrating sound came out of your lips, you hated how the wall was thick enough to block out the anything coherent, and your nosy ears were left unsatisfied.

Two people talking, you were sure of that, and you also knew that they were slowly and creepingly getting closer to you.

But before you thought of your escape plan, an electrical-like sound resounded across the room just softly. It would have been very much unnoticed during the lively day, especially considering Scarlett’s exhausting hyper energy. But in the complete silence of the night, one that even the noise of the rattling rails were enhanced. It was the sound you could recognize now, a you knew you had just been exposed. The automatic doors just opened.

“Should we really wake them up?” spoke the large male, specks of the bronze you earlier described hidden under the artificial light, which made his hair take upon a more goldish colour. 

He looked on his back, waiting for his companion to respond to him. Scarlett joined him in the room, her long and white hair, so well taken care of that anyone could’ve confused it with a spider’s silk. 

“We don’t have much time to spare, we need to go over the schedule” Scarlett spoke. A stunned look came across your face when you noticed she still had the beautiful face paint across her sharp and witty features, even in the early hours of the night. 

“I understand that-“ Finnick crossed his eyes to follow Scarlett’s figure, but in doing so, a black shifting figure appeared in the corner of his eyes, and its presence asked for his attention. So when he looked over there, he found you on the couch, the bottle of wine still in your arms. 

He made an expression, and it that moment you knew exactly what the elders meant by the saying ‘Dear in Headlights’. His sea green eyes, a sea that upon stepping into the water you’d be welcomed by the underwater green nature, had gotten noticeably bigger. It was the initial shock for him had that him planted by the entrace, you knew he wasn’t expecting you. Even more less, you gripping onto dear life to the wine. 

Scarlett noticed the absence of Finnick’s sentence, so she looked back at him with a pointed stare wanting to know why he had stopped talking. His face suggested for her to look in the direction of what he was facing, and so she did. A big noticeable grin appeared on her radiant white teeth after encountering your very awaken form. 

“Wonderful, you’re awake!” she exclaimed, clapping twice in approval. You just stayed there, paralyzed. You had come out to drink the refinery of the Capitol, all sneakily as had you assumed it would be the same as in District 4. The usual, ‘you’re a minor’ kind of talk. It had been harder to digest the fiery feeling coursing through your bloodstream, to your knowledge, only alcohol could provide you. 

You weren’t the type to break the rules, always following what the law preached. But when it came down on taking more priority on curious adolescents wanting to try out a new feeling, over questioning the literal slaughter of said adolescents, you could admit confidently, the system was equivalent to a singular bullcrap. 

Mags was the last to come out, her very small and frail body coming out from behind Finnick, 

who still looked at you funnily. He didn’t utter a word, still in his trance. The bottle was still in your hands, and you knew deep within your very core existence, it was going to take up a real fight for them to take it away from you.

Mags on the other hand chuckled sofly at his side, which in turn took Finnick back to reality, something you were thankful for Mags. You were sure if he kept staring you like that you’d just run back to your room from the utter humiliation. The whole situation felt silly in your hands, especially considering your fingers still gripping onto the bottle. 

“I’ll go and get Vito” offered Finnick as he walked past the tall slender figure of Scarlett, and made his way to get your District partner. 

Scarlett went to sit beside you, almost like she felt close to you on a personal level, all connected by the power of the wine. She held her glass of wine to you, a hungry smile as she waited for your hands to pour down the liquid into her transparent glass. 

Mags sat in front of you, onto the armchair from the same yellowish colour as the couch you were currently leaning agaisnt. She was grinning at you. A mischievous color swam through her grey irises that were were pointing at you. There was something sweet about you only Mags seem to notice, and she seemed amused by your particular behaviour. 

“Have you tried it? It's delicious” Scarlett recommended you, a tone lower from the close proximity she had closed, and it seemed to her that there was a new level of vulnerability between the three of you. The flowing liquid brushed past her coloured lips, and where it not for the bubble that formed from inside her throat, one that it quickly disappeared to her content belly, you wouldn't have realized she had already gulped down the drink. It was sophisticated one, one done with the sole intention to savour the unique taste, more so for one’s survival. 

You moved your head no, a little shy after being caught during the act. But were you? Exactly what were you doing that was so wrong? Everyone present seemed so nonchalant about it, so used to it, you coudn’t help but bury yourself deeper into the depths of your own embarrassment. You coudn’t help but ask yourself why you hadn’t asked them earlier if you could take a sip

And with that, you were sure you were going to do a little session by the great name of self-ridiculization when you were alone, which meant screaming off to your pillow.

You took a pity sip. Just like what you had predicted, it was everything but disappointing. The way the beverage was made was very much different from all the drinks you shared with Edna. This one, was lower on the bitterness, and whoever wrote the recipe made the correct decision to add the sweet fruity taste to it. That was the secret ingredient, the sweetness almost overpowered the cringing taste of the alcohol, and a bubble of sparkling water tickled your throat when you gulped down. Truly delicious.

Scarlett winked at you, a bigger grin appeared on her face. You looked over to her, and for once her very presence didn’t feel excriciatingly annoying. Her hyper overjoy she always seemed to wear on her cheek easily exhausted anyone present, especially when she seemed so eager to talk about the Hunger Games.

You had taken notice of Mags scanning eyes over your essence from the very moment she sat just in front of you. So you gave a pointed look, a one questioning over her roaming pupils on you. Mags responded with another smile, a gentle and mature one, from a woman with decades of experience ready to reveal the secrets of a human’s purpose in life. The way her eyes closed when she bore her teeth out, gave you the understanding she didn’t have the slightest intention to spill out whatever was going on through her mind.

You sighed along with the welcoming steps from both Finnick and Vito. A second barely passed when the two appeared through the door. Finnick was in his still living sculpture form, created by an artist filled with the purest form of infatuation, his passion for the beautiful creatures that lurked on the breathing planet, and definitely taking upon the inspiration of the gods of beauty and hypnotic perfection, and thus he was born. 

Vito was close behind him, a look that gave away his tumultuous mind. His eyes shoned the void of his black irises, that seemed to have merged with its pupils. His rustled hairs hung in messy strands, evident of his attempt in walking into a deep slumber. A pair of silky beige trousers attached to his hips. His button-up shirt he was using as nightly gear, had been hanging around him loosely, and your working quick eyes noticed just how he was interlocking each button for its respective hole just as he got in the salon, suggesting he’d just worn it for the courtesy of joining your reunion.

You couldn’t stop the sarcastic thought from drilling your mind ‘How kind of the them to provide its Tribute’s with pleasantries' regarding with existence of the clothing provided by the Capital. But it wasn’t just that, it was as well the rich dishes and product designs. You very much enjoyed them, but you coudn’t help feeling it was a direct jab at you former way of life, a much poorer lifestyle than theirs. 

Everything was great, you had been the first to enjoy them, but it still felt icky to your senses. It is as if the Capitol was trying to ridicule you in some way or another. 

Vito followed your pointing eyes, a tired greeting. He probably stayed in bed, waiting to be taken by the realm of dreams, hoping when he woke up everything was just but a terrible nightmare. And that feeling sunken within your heavy chest.

Both men sat down beside us, and Vito couldn’t help but travel his gave along the table, finishing to see past your fingers to Scarlett’s. He’d taken notice of the bottle you both were sharing, and a hollow feeling sat on top of his heart. He barely mumbled something audible.

“Is that wine?” Vito’s voice was weak when he let the words escape. His funny look, essentially identical to Finnick’s, mimicked the way his tune sounded, confused and perplexed. 

Something about Vito you had realized was the way his face was exactly that of a transparent mineral. Everything he built himself with, every opinion and moment of decision, was all said through his eyes before he could even speak them. 

“Why are you drinking wine?” he questioned your actions, with the ingredients of a slight judgemental tone, and an astonished murmur. He specifically looked at you, trying to find the broken wires inside your brain, the ones that made you make circuit-breaker decisions.

“Why not?” you asked back. The difference in tone was surprisingly abundant. His was more weak and slow, begging for an outer force to comfort him; and yours was simply more cutthroat and defensive. 

He didn’t say anything else after that, bewilderment spoke his eyes. His lips fell apart, trying to find the words he wanted to say. But he couldn’t, not when he was so stunned at your answer. An he supposed  the problem didn’t come from a circuit breaker, rather you were suffering from unmatching wires that had been wrongly connected.

“Edna always told me. ‘If I’m able to stitch back a four-inch infected laceration without the need of any painkiller, I was old enough to drink alcohol’ ” You repeted those wise words your teacher and, later considered grandmother spoke. The words and phases that echoed through each rib, in a never-ending cycle of teachings that clung to you like a piercing fishhook through warm flesh. 

Vito kept his stare on you, unable to comprehend you. The dark circles that were slowly creeping up under his eyes came from the instilled distress that overpowered his body. He appreciated what you had done earlier, he’d be lying if he told you he didn’t need it, that he was alright. The sickening idea that both of you were going to be placed in a mortal arena fed his sleepless anxiety. The screening scenes from previous Hunger Games editions pierced his soul, like an arrow to his heart. 

He found himself taking back his initial thoughts though. He previously found himself relieved when his partner was someone unknown to him, someone he only knew in passing, that he never had a heartfelt conversation with you. The guilt of those primal thoughts runs his blood cold because after what you had done to him, a complete stranger, the comfort he needed for the simple reasoning that you were concerned about him.

You were a good person at heart, and you didn’t deserve to die in such a cruel fate. In the middle of nowhere, where even nature itself is out there designed to kill you. With the background of the meaning of the Hunger Games, many Tributes grew desperate to try and change their hopeless destiny. Their minds break inside that Hell, and with fear running their imprudent’s choices, they kill whoever is set in their way. In this game, you had to let go of one’s nature and belief with the off chance to see another day. 

So when he saw you with a glass of wine in hand, he couldn’t help but be resentful over your shown obliviousness to the whole situation, or maybe you just weren’t as concerned as he dictated you should be. He appreciated what you had done back then, reassuring him everything would be alright. But deep down he knew those words were empty in the ears of fate, and you couldn’t guarantee the outcome even if you wanted to. 

Your lips took another gulp of the wine, he felt as though the earth would bury him alive. Just then a crumbling thought avalanched his mind. His soul felt heavy, and there was nothing he could do about it. He felt personally victimized, wishing you had never been picked in the Reaping, and all thoughts of earlier gratitude subsided and felt personally betrayed by your words.

You tasted the addicting wine once again. Your head moved to Scarlett’s, praising the wine choice whoever picked for this journey. 

“This will be the death of me. It's like a delicious poison running through my veins” you told her delighted. There was something so pure about the way a refreshing wine glass traveled through your entire body, that felt like swimming under the humidity of the summer’s heat.

“Oh ho ho” Scarlett chuckled at your comment. She was good drinking company, you had to give her that. She unknowingly distracted you from your oceanic torment, taking away the pleas of your mind to give in and open your eyes to what you were truly feeling.

“I know someone who you’d get along with” She spoke again, a giggly voice present. 

“Haymitch, right?” Now it was Finnick who joined in. Another small grin appeared on his face, however small though, it lit up the room just as if he bore his sparkling teeth out. And, god, you had to stop yourself from forming a curse after seeing his beautiful dimples. 

“I could see you two becoming close friends” he added. Green eyes attempting to read behind your pupils.

Haymitch. He sounded familiar to your ears, but you couldn’t quite picture him in your mind. And just as you went to ask for who they were referring to, Vito's voice became clearer. 

“Are we going to form a plan or not?” he sounded strained, stress had been building up his senses, and you felt once again guilty. “Look, I just want, even a half a chance to win this” he added. His voice hinted that he was mad, and it wasn’t his fault you had already given up. 

“Please,” his eyes maneuvered to Scarlett. “Tell us what to do. How do we gain sponsors” You heard just how he tried to bite back a crack. “or how to not die out there” The intensity of his stare made the air tense. Even Scarlett, the queen of making everything as lighthearted as possible, didn’t say anything back. She just stared at him, her words stuck to the back of her throat, and his low tone disorienting her brain. 

You placed your wine glass down. Your eyes stole his glance, before speaking out your thoughts. 

“Vito” you called out to him. And just like his voice, you saw how even his obsidian eyes cracked with each passing minute. 

“I’m close to incapable of even protecting myself,” you confessed, and that hard acceptance soaked your mind. There was nothing for you to do. 

His hard stare begged you to continue, because for him, at this point he’d listen to anyone, even the defeated conclusions of a self-proclaimed goner like yourself.

“But I know how to heal you. I know how to wrap up an open wound. I know how to slow down an infection. And I know for sure, I’ll do my best to stop any type of poison spread over your body” you told him. You understood him, understood how he was feeling, and how desperation ran miles over his head. 

“I’ll be out there to take care of you. But I need you to promise me one thing.” his stare was pointed at you, and no matter how distracting his surroundings may be, he listened carefully to your words. 

“I need you to stay by my side. I need you to protect me when I need it. And I promise you, I’ll be there to look out for you” The light bulbs shone in the sclera of your eyes, just as hard as the tone of your voice. 

He nodded, agreeing to that verbal contract, and he was ready to carry out the duty you just placed on his shoulders. 

“I’ll be there by your side until you proclaim yourself as Victor.” you gave him a sad smile. It seemed that’s the only thing you do these days. A smile in the face of a terrible tragedy. 

He looked away from you, into the crown of the passing trees through the window. He seemed more relaxed, more confident. And in the lingering silence, no one dared to interrupt the meaning behind your despairing words. 

The victors of the previous games looked at you. You felt isolated behind their gaze, and you couldn’t even return their pitiful glance towards you. The irises on your eyes traveled outside the train car,  through every single tree, and it felt like you moved as fast as the speed of light. An open gap between your tight chest, that’s what it felt like knowing every passing tree meant getting closer to your imminent death. It felt philosophical in a sense, just how the leaves your eyes landed on, quickly swifted into the next one, like a prophecy that your end was happening soon. And the usual childish thought that the trees were waving you farewell with every wind brush, fell too real for you. 

Vito grunted some words, but you were unable to hear them, too focused on the melancholic song your body sang. Aside from you, the rest looked at him, and his gaze returned to each one of them. An internal conflict stood beside him as he thought out his mind. Finnick looked to Mags, and she returned it with another, understanding just what lay in those ghostly words of yours. They knew what you were implying, you didn’t need to say it, the meaning of grief stayed prevalent in the air you all shared. 

“What about you?” he muttered just above a whisper, but you still understood the meaning of his words. He was going to force you to say it even when you didn’t want to. The words you kept hidden, for your own mental protection, so you woudn’t crumble in that very instant.

“What about me?” you asked back with a sneer. A tone anyone understanding the implication of the conversation would realize to be in self-mockery. Vito lost his voice again, hanging his lips apart to dry his tongue. A piercing pain hurt his heart like a freezing icicle to his soul. 

“In the end, it's better you come out as the sole victor.” Those two words, they were the final blows of the crack in your soul. Just like someone smashed a mirror after seeing their body reflected. And it was even harder having to act stronger than what you actually were, because deep between the layers of deception and half-truths, a house that only hopelessness and hurt habited. But there was nothing you could do about it, it was better to accept it now, so when you’d be faced with your impending moment, you might as well feel at peace for the life Edna had the chance to give you.

“I’m making my peace with death.” you smiled with nothing other than the wrinkled lines of mournful acceptance. Everyone looked at you, and Vito gave you a displeased glare, one you knew he was about to try and pick up a fight at your words.

“Look, I've been on my own my entire life, and I’m fine with it. I’ll die just how I lived, alone,” you spoke before he could even refute back your stubborn thoughts. But he couldn’t accept it, and it hurt his soul just looking at your pitiful face. 

“We need you alive” a loud husky metamorphosed his vocal chords, with a more aggressive tone than you had gotten used to in the little hours you had been with him. A venomous stinger struck you unannounced. You knew what he meant, the fishermen you had brought up earlier. 

“The Peacemakers are being a pain in the ass lately, the Herbal Shop will close sooner or later anyway” you tried to debate, any inkling of gentle softness leaving after what felt an attack at his hostile tone.

“You’re absolutely right. Your victory would shut them up” sarcasm placed on his mouth into a grin, a scoff vibrating the back of his salivary tongue in his in disbelief. His crease wrinkled at the middle of both his eyebrows. But what you could not fathom, why was his hard look directed at you. 

“That’ll stop them raking your name through the mud” he added in venomous grace directed at the people who were supposed to ‘maintain peace’. And yet, it didn’t feel the least be sympathetic. 

“My name’s been through a lot. I can take it” you talked back. You had to bite your burning tongue so it wouldn’t mention anything about his unexpected and detestable attitude.

“Well I don’t have your knowledge or skills. I’m easily replaceable” It seemed he always had something back to say to you, but it never convinced you, not with your stubborn nature. And yet, you were left speechless. You weren’t sure as to why he’d become so aggravateted all of a sudden. 

The confusion that sparked in your inner central core only left you empty. You weren’t sure as to why he’d gotten so hostile. Vito just scanned your face finding any clue of your swirling hidden thoughts inside of your head. He just wanted to swim across from your sea current, he wanted to break apart your mind, so you’d understand his point. He found himself close to finding the secrets you wanted to keep hidden under a rusty lock. 

Your lips parted, and the way your pupils shoke in trying to find a reason as to why he was perked up, only made his shimmering eyes spark in his further determination. 

Now it was you who stayed quiet, still in a messy stupefaction running your mind. You wanted to say something back, bite at his words and make him understand that if it came to sacrificing, it was a better option for your to take that blow instead of him. 

In the absence of your voice, Vito continued on. 

“As soon as the Hunger Games start, run far away from the Cornucopia. I’ll get everything and come back to you” his voice was much lower, the excruciating energy he managed to surface was gone. At least not in an explosive way, but the way his tune forced out intimidation for you to listen to him. You blinked at his words, and a little not right stepped on your face upon his pathetic excuse of a plan. You licked your dry lips.

“What? No!” you started. Just as this conversation continued on you coudn’t help but feel like someone slammed against your body, from each word he tried to reason with. You sighed internally, deeply exhaling the breath as a means to get you to calm down. “You’ll just die there” you replicated to him. You surprised yourself when the implications of your words sunk your heart deep. Vito could die.

 “And we need you alive” You elevated your voice, as you defended your reasoning against his immediate thought process. Like the calamity of a sea storm clashing against the sharp stones of a cliff, fighting against the aggressive nature of the submerged waves.

“You’re more necessary back home. I’m more than willing to die-” his frsutration could only but become increasingly bigger when you cut him off. It was far past him, the realization that two clashing thoughts could never end with one winning victor.

“Your sisters need you alive. Your family needs you alive” you raised your voice, not enough to be considered that of a yell, but loud enough that the energy that escaped through your pores left burning marks on the people around you. 

And it was loud enough that you long forgotten, and didn’t care, about anyone else who’d still be asleep in the train ride.

“Just listen to me!” Vito screamed. He wanted to shut you up, and he reasoned that by leaving you as astonished as you were, he could explain as to why he felt like it was better for him to be buried against the hard bloody floor of the arena. 

And you were dismayed. All words you wanted to speak run back down your throat at the sheer audacity you felt. So you looked at him, nothing but critical in your glare. You couldn’t leave his eyes, threatning pupils cheering him to challenge your very being again. 

Don’t say it. Don’t say it. Don’t say it. Don’t say it. Don’t say it. Don’t say it. Don’t say it. Don’t say it.

Your repeated thoughts were as fast as the bullet train you were on. You knew the moment you lost your self control, you’d say something you’d later regret. So you looked at him, a fiery rage in your gaze, but still controlling your silence. 

Vito then realized he regretted shouting at you in such a manner. The hating look your irises burned and churned within, took him back. He didn’t expect you’d react that way, and he regretted not taking another second to think what the outcome may be from his screaming. So he stilled under your gaze, every sheer of irate emotions slowly dissipating.

He opened his mouth, wanting so say something, to immediately apologize for what he’s just done. Regret flowed through his senses, so much it made him almost blind to everything else that was occurring. And with regret, came the emotions of shame and embarrassment. He was vulnerable under you heavy stare.

Seconds passed like this. You were looking into his eyes, but you weren’t saying inthing behind them. The source didn’t come to try and intimidate him, it had nothing to do with you feeling more powerful than him. But as your gazes interlocked, you had to physically bite your bottom lip so you wouldn't spill all the bitter words that sat ready above your tongue. Don’t say it. Every second, your head provoked you to take one step further and finish this into a screaming match. The type of fight that, when the both of you left to your rooms, you two had equal resentment for each other. Don’t say it. 

With another deep breath exhaling from your nose, you stood up. Just then, you realized the rest of the audience present in your discussion, by which all of them looked rather uncomfortable, and you coudn’t blame them. You passed Scarlett and Finnick, in which he stalkendly followed you figure. He didn’t know what to say to remedy the situation, was there even a way to make this better? Or maybe the best thing he could do was to just stay silent and let the breeze carry both of the Tribute’s emotions. 

Your body froze at the realization you had forgotten something crucial. You looked at the Scarlett, which she returned a timid gaze. Vito seemed on wanting to say something, especially now that you had stopped in your tracks. It was obvious you wanted to leave, and he coudn’t blame you. But before he could apologize for his outburst, your voice fied out. Much more calm, and without a hint of an explosive counter reaction.

“I’ll be taking this” you leaned forward into the table, grabbing the inquisitive wine, ready to use it as soon as your bedroom door closed behind you. 

“I’ll be drowning myself in this tonight” you murmured. You were proud at the way you didn’t give in to you head’s whispering thoughts to aggravate the situation further. And before you knew it, you blood run much slower, and your energy subsided, leaving you with the hoarse of your mutter.

You looked back at everyone, and a small grin formed in the base of your lips, and they understood you were telling them your goodnight before your body went to the door. 

But you stopped. With the wine in you hand heavely hanging, you went back to see your partner. 

“Get back home, Vito” you exasperated. He went to gaze at you once his name was mentioned. And though you noticed his soury internal conflict, his original thoughts still induced him.

He went to say you name, a much softer trembling mutter. But you cut him off. You didn’t want to argue any further, and you weren't going to stay for whatever he had to say.

“Go home” your voice sounded more stable, more confident in your argument. And with this, you finished the dispute between the two of you. With an order for him to return back to District 4, and get back to his family. 

Previous // Next

TagList: @marvelescvpe

[noorpersona]

Broken Telephone Pt. 2

It’s been a couple of days since your chat with Kugisaki, and it was safe to say it was the absolute last thing on your mind. Right now, much more important tasks are taking up your thoughts.

“Oi, Itadori, how big is the difference between oranges and clementines?” The grocery store light flickers slightly above you, but it doesn’t take your focus off the shelf of ingredients. You hear his heavy sigh fill the aisle, breaking the serene music playing through the speakers of the store.

“How should I know?” His voice sounded tired, but maybe it’s because you dragged him grocery shopping at ten PM.

In your defence, you hadn’t realized how barren your mini fridge and shelf were until nine.

You make a sound of agreement. “You’re right, I shouldn’t have expected an answer from someone like you.” Itadori makes an offended noise. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

You stand up straight, ignoring his question. “I’ll just get both then.” You say to yourself, taking a small bag of both fruits and putting them in the basket Itadori was holding, full of an assortment of other products. You see him narrow his eyes at you.

“Why did you bring me out here again?” He asks, following you to the checkout counter. “Is it not obvious? I needed someone to hold my stuff.” You start taking stuff out of the basket, handing them to the tired-looking clerk, who was looking at the two of you with eyes of distaste, clearly upset for making them have to work.

“You realize I’m not your butler right?” You don’t answer right away, giving the money to the clerk and taking the bags of your groceries in turn, passing a few to Itadori, which he takes, despite his previous statement. It makes you smile slightly, eyes turning to tease.

“Oh, are you sure? I was going to bake you a cake as thanks later…” While it sounded like a jest, you were being completely truthful. Baking had become somewhat of a hobby lately. It brought a calm to you, and in the life that you’re in, it was definitely a welcomed feeling.

The doors of the grocery store open automatically, making a little noise as you walk past the sensor, and onto the clear street. Moon shining brightly on the street, the night sky clear without a cloud in sight.

“I don’t think I want a cake from someone who doesn’t even know the difference between basic fruits…” You laugh a little, nudging him playfully, and he just gives you a warm smile in return. You both start your somewhat long walk back to the school in silence, with you basking in the serenity of the night, making your chest warm in comfort.

“Hey…” Itadori starts, and you hum.

“Do you really find Fushiguro more attractive than me?”

The nice feeling in your chest you’d felt was gone in an instant. You’ve stopped walking and whipped your head to Itadori, face a little more flushed than you would’ve thought. Itadori’s face is impressively passive for the question he just asked. It makes you all that more flustered.

“W-what?! Where the hell did that come from?”

“Kugisaki told me.” His short reply caused you to grit your teeth and clench your fists, the plastic bags in your grasp stretching from the tension. Now would be a good example of when your shamelessness was a bad thing.

Damn it all.

“I swear to-“

“She meant it as an insult, but I don’t really mind it. You were never my type either.” He cuts you off, “Though I never would’ve thought you’d like someone like Fushiguro…” Your face flushes harder.

“What’s that supposed to-“

“But I really need to know,” Itadori interjects again, looking away and putting his hand on his chin, the groceries in his hand swaying from the movement. “Did you really tell Kugisaki that you wouldn’t mind being fucked seven ways to Sunday by Fushi-“

You knew that Itadori was built like a tank, and even without cursed energy, he was a beast. So realistically, nothing would’ve happened if you whipped him with your boatload of groceries.

Which is why you put a little bit of cursed energy into it.

The result led him to pause and let out a gruntled noise, clutching his stomach in somewhat agony. Had he known it was coming, it probably wouldn’t have done anything.

But the element of surprise is incredibly deadly.

“What sack load of shit are you spewing? I never said any of that!” You couldn’t look at him, far too mortified at the words he’d said. Fucked seven ways to Sunday… Are you kidding me Kugisaki?

You’d never admit that those words sounded somewhat appealing though.

“So you don’t like Fushiguro then?” Itadori appears at your side, fully recovered like ten seconds ago didn’t happen. Damn his resilience…

“I-“ You hesitate, trying to figure a way out of this situation. His observing eyes weren’t helping either. By the time fifteen seconds went by, you realized that you’d taken too long to answer the question, and therefore already giving him the answer he asked for.

But you’ll be damned if you didn’t try to dig yourself out of the hole you’re in.

“I like him a normal amount. And you’re allowed to find people attractive without having feelings for them.” You clear your throat, finally resuming the path to the school. “Come on, we’re already late.” You fail to see the sly smile form on Itadori’s face as he catches up with you, deciding to let the subject rest for now.

Not without one last jest though.

“If it makes you feel any better, Kugisaki and I think you’d be good together. You’d have very antisocial children though.” He didn’t need to see your face to know that you were blushing. You push him away from you, causing him to laugh a little. You huff at his antics.

“Shut up. You’re not allowed to joke with me like this. You lost that privilege after you ‘died’.”

“Huh?! Are you still not over that?” His voice turns whiny. You hold your annoyance firm.

“I hold grudges when it benefits me.” Itadori clicks his tongue.

“You’re mean like Fushiguro too. You’re practically made for each other.” You hear Itadori mutter that last bit, and you keep your face forward to try and make it seem like you’ve already gotten over the extremely embarrassing moment.

“Shut the hell up or you’ll be carrying all my groceries.” He laughs out loud again, cutting into the silence of the streets. During the whole way back you still hear him snicker now and then.

Oh, Kugisaki is going to pay for this.

[smolghostbot]

Random Robot Snippet

Is it obvious I've been in a robot mood for the last few days? Here's a random word-vom I wrote about a tiny discarded robot being repaired.

Word count: 900ish

CW: POV description of a robot in disrepair, some robot-themed body horror (maintenance while awake) but portrayed softly.

-------------

2%

You stumble through the street, wishing it wasn’t night. All of the businesses are closed, and your solar panels aren’t picking anything up from the street lamps…

1%

You curse your size, the smallest model of family companion, only six inches tall. Six inches that move at a negligible speed as you try desperately to find anywhere to charge… but you know deep down that this is the end for you…

0%

You desperately stumble in view of the sky, hoping that maybe, just maybe, you’ll recharge when the sun co

-

-

5%

System Status: Critical

You wake up. You weren’t expecting that. As you take in the fact that you’re alive, you notice an odd sensation by your arm. Ah. It’s missing. The wires that previously sent power to your fingers have been spliced into a power plug, which must be where you are getting charged from. You notice additional problems as your warning system slowly warms up. Namely, that your chassis is open, exposed to the elements. It just now occurs to you that you have no idea where you are. The room is dark, and you appear to be on a wooden surface, sat in a slumped-over position. Several tools are nearby, as well as spare wires. You begin to panic, your cooling fans turning on automatically to control the heat coming from your processor.

You hear a voice, talking. The words are hard to hear over the roaring of the fans, but you can make out some of them. “Project”, “Replacement”, “Help it”. The voice seems to be speaking to no one, you can’t hear the reply, but they sound adamant. Finally, you hear them move away from the door, as the room returns to silence, and you fade into sleep mode to charge faster.

-

50%

System Status: Stabilized

Your internal clock is broken, you lost internet access long before you were discarded. You have no idea how long you’ve been here. How long since you were in the street. Hours? Days? Longer? The solar panels making up your “hair” have finally activated, but at an extremely low generation rate. That must be what woke you up.

You’re now laying flat on the surface from before. Your pressure sensors feel something. You boot up your optical nodes, and see… gloved human hands, almost as big as you are, poking at your now-exposed chest cavity with rubber-tipped tools. It feels… odd, the sensation of having your insides meddled with while still awake. You take in the form of the human, their tied-back hair, their oil-stained coveralls, clearly from working on something bigger, and presumably more important than you.

Their face, covered by a welding mask, turns up to look at you, clearly noticing the blue lights from your optical nodes, and they speak in a muffled voice. “Oh, hello! You’re awake! Can you… can you speak?”

“Yes. Where am I?”

“Oh good! Sorry, I know this must be scary, this is my robot workshop. I guess you could think of it as… a bot hospital. I found you sitting in a dumpster, but I know your model had AI, I couldn’t just let you be discarded!”

Discarded, you think, taking extra time to process the word. It wouldn’t be the first time.

“Where is my arm?” You ask, as your optical nodes glance over at the missing appendage, and the mess of wires in its place. “What are you doing?”

“Oh! Your arm is safe, I was doing repairs on it, and I figured ‘Hey, the chassis needs power anyways, may as well give it a jump’. I’ll put it back when you’re fully charged. As for this,” they say, pointing to your open torso, “Just a bit of an upgrade for you. On the house,” they say with a wink.

Your fans calm down as your processor slows to normal levels. This human means well? You don’t understand why they would care for an outdated, defective unit like you, but that hardly matters if they’ll help repair you. You stay awake as they continue to poke and prod, occasionally causing a power flicker but always apologizing. The way they treat you… it’s almost as if you were a human yourself. Now that they know you’re awake, they speak slowly and softly, narrating what they are doing and why. “I’m removing this, but I’m replacing it with this better one, okay?”

“Okay”, you reply, not that you have much of a choice. If they wanted, they could be, no, should be scrapping you for parts… but they don’t. Finally, it burns at you enough to ask.

“Why are you helping me?”

They go quiet at this. You worry that you said something wrong, something to upset them. Instead, they lift their mask and look at you, a gentle gleam in their hazel eyes, as they respond. “I’m helping you because you were hurt. Nobody should be thrown away like that.”

You think to argue, to tell them that you were defective, replaced by a newer, more capable model, but you hold your metaphorical tongue, afraid of upsetting this human who currently has access to your most vital parts. “You don’t believe me”, they say. You don’t. After a moment, they speak again. “That’s okay. Whether you believe me or not, I’m going to help you, okay? So just be patient and trust me.”

And, with no other option, trust them you shall.

[giantimpex]

Ask for Motion Sensor Switch - #SensorLight GIANT IMPEX PIR Energy Saving Light with 180 Degree Wall-Mount LUX , Time , Sensitivity Adjustment Automatic 220V and Motion Sensor Switch.

Lux: turn on the lights during the day or night

Operating Volt: AC 220-250V 50Hz-60Hz. Load Power: Upto 300/1200W Max & Ambient Light: 3-2000 (Adjustable)

Detecting Angle: 180 Degree. & Installation Height: 1.8-2.5 Mtr Ambient Light : <10-2000LUX (adjustable)

Good solution for energy saving and easy to install. Delay adjustment: 10 Seconds - 7 Minutes and Adjustable

It can use with lamps, incandescent lamps (bulbs), old-fashioned fluorescent lamps, electronic fluorescent ring lamps, spotlights, transformers, small electrical appliances, and other all other appliance

Available in #Amazon, #Flipkart and #Meesho Order Now:

Amazon:

Flipkart

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Meesho:

https://www.meesho.com/giant-impex-motion-pir-sensor-light-ac110240v-body-motion-infrared-sensor-motion-light-with-160-detection-angle-to-control-led-light-compact-fluorescent-lamp-incandescent-light-bulbwhite/p/25z0x1?fbclid=IwY2xjawKxCxNleHRuA2FlbQIxMABicmlkETF3RFJRQnlQcjdXeWRQR2ZzAR50WJRvWP_MoiAR8if55ehIBHVvlcmxjUqESpLuLjrFMymfoJ-HI7GOTvBRDg_aem_w_Q0pQVlFXwcV637V4f3QQ

Visit Our Store: Get 20% Off on Sale price. Use Promo Code 'GIANT20' https://giantimpex.in/…/pir-energy-saving-light-with.

[lastimeexteriors-nebraska]

Can Skylights Help with Seasonal Affective Disorder (SAD)?

If you've ever felt sluggish and unmotivated during the colder months, you're not alone. Seasonal Affective Disorder (SAD) affects millions of people, making winter feel less like a festive wonderland and more like an energy-draining marathon. The culprit? A lack of sunlight. But here’s an interesting question—can skylights help?

The short answer? Yes, they can. But let’s talk about why.

Why Does Seasonal Affective Disorder Happen?

SAD isn't just a case of the "winter blues." It’s a legitimate mood disorder linked to changes in sunlight exposure. When the days get shorter and darker, your body produces more melatonin (which makes you sleepy) and less serotonin (which boosts mood). The result? You feel sluggish, moody, and maybe even a little down for no clear reason.

Traditional treatments include light therapy, vitamin D supplements, and—if necessary—medication. But there’s another way to combat the problem: maximizing natural light exposure in your home or workplace. And that’s where skylights come in.

Skylights: Your Secret Weapon Against SAD

More Natural Light, Less Artificial Dependency

Most homes and offices rely on artificial lighting, but let’s be honest—overhead lights don’t quite replicate the sun. Skylights flood spaces with natural daylight, keeping your body in sync with a healthier circadian rhythm.

A Mood-Boosting Game Changer

Exposure to sunlight triggers serotonin production, which can help improve focus and energy levels. Ever notice how you feel more awake on a bright, sunny day compared to a gloomy one? Skylights bring that energy indoors, giving you a natural pick-me-up throughout the day.

Better Sleep (And Who Doesn’t Want That?)

Since skylights increase daytime exposure to natural light, they can help regulate your sleep cycle. Your body gets the signal: "Okay, it’s daytime—stay alert." Then, as the sun sets, your melatonin production kicks in naturally, making it easier to fall asleep at night.

Energy Savings with a Side of Wellness

Sunlight isn’t just good for your health—it’s great for your electricity bill. More daylight means less reliance on artificial lighting, which can lower energy costs. So, while you’re brightening your space and boosting your mood, you’re also cutting down on utility expenses. Win-win.

Skylights vs. Traditional Windows: Is There a Difference?

You might be thinking, “I already have windows—why do I need skylights?” Good question.

While regular windows do provide sunlight, they don’t always maximize it. The position of skylights on the roof allows sunlight to enter from above, eliminating shadows and providing a more even distribution of light. Plus, for homes or offices where windows are limited (like interior rooms or basements), skylights offer a direct path to the sky.

Another factor? Privacy. If you want more natural light in a bathroom or bedroom but don’t want to compromise on privacy, skylights are the perfect solution. You get all the benefits of sunlight without worrying about neighbors peeking in.

What Kind of Skylight Works Best?

Not all skylights are created equal. If you're considering installing one to help with SAD, here’s what to look for:

Fixed Skylights – These are stationary and ideal for maximizing sunlight in rooms where ventilation isn’t needed.

Ventilated Skylights – Great for areas like kitchens and bathrooms where airflow is important.

Tubular Skylights – A compact option that channels sunlight through a reflective tube—perfect for smaller spaces or hallways.

Smart Skylights – Some models come with built-in sensors that adjust to light levels or open for ventilation automatically. Fancy, but effective.

Placement Matters: Where Should You Install a Skylight?

If your goal is to fight off SAD, the placement of your skylight is just as important as the type you choose.

Living Rooms & Common Areas – These are high-traffic spaces where natural light can boost energy and mood throughout the day.

Home Offices – If you work from home, a skylight can reduce eye strain, improve focus, and help combat that mid-afternoon slump.

Bedrooms – Regulating your sleep-wake cycle is easier when your body gets natural daylight exposure in the morning.

Bathrooms – Sunlight and privacy? Yes, please. A skylight can brighten up the space without the need for extra lighting.

Can Skylights Really Make a Difference?

Absolutely. Studies have shown that increased exposure to natural light improves mood, productivity, and even cognitive function. Skylights aren’t a magic cure for SAD, but they’re an effective (and stylish) way to bring more sunlight into your daily routine.

If you’re dealing with seasonal gloom, installing a skylight could be one of the most practical changes you make. After all, why not let nature do some of the heavy lifting?

[zmediaoutlet]

for @wincestwednesdays: doomed

The airport’s a disaster. Emergency landings coming one after another. A crowd of tourists who were supposed to be in Dulles clatter by in their matching Gornacki 2009 Family Reunion t-shirts and wonder, what happened? Are we under attack? What was that light—what are they saying—what does it mean?

Dean’s back is to the wall by an out of order payphone. Security guards run past and pay him no mind. A baby’s wailing like an ambulance nearby, the mom joggling the little blanketed bundle hopelessly in her arms, watching the TVs above them flash all flights to DELAYED. A grandma-type with watery eyes approaches the payphone and fumbles, confused, until Dean detaches enough from the whole-body horror to see what she’s trying to do, and offers his cell for her to use. It doesn’t occur to him until too late that she might be a demon but if she is she’s hiding it well, dialing her daughter with shaking veiny hands, looking at Dean like he can help, saying too-loud into the speaker: “I don’t know what to do.”

Behind a glass wall, the rental car counters: Avis, Budget. Sam has their best current card and their best current ID and he’s standing very very tall in the mass of people all talking too loud and waving their hands at the harried clerks, demanding solutions, wanting what can’t be had. Usually Sam slumps so that people won’t worry, gets out of people’s way so they won’t notice he’s a threat, smiles easy all aw-shucks and raises his hands and makes like, nothing to see here. From Dean’s angle, right now, Sam’s a monolith. His shoulders square and his hands in his jacket pockets and his spine iron-bar stiff, a head taller than anyone else in the throng. He turns his head, like he’s catching something Dean can’t hear, and his profile is still like it is when he’s pretending not to be in pain. Like that time he broke his arm when he was a kid and refused to cry and Dean had to make stupid jokes all the way to the ER, sick to his own stomach, thinking he wouldn’t be hurt if only I’d—

Dean goes into the men’s room. A businessman with his tie undone telling someone he isn’t going to make the 8:00 meeting, so can they reschedule, no, he knows it’s a hassle but it’s not exactly like he planned for there to be a terrorist attack in Maryland. Dean locks himself into the handicap stall and sits on the toilet and buries his face in his hands, breathing in through his nose and out through his mouth. Piss and bleach. Chemical. Not dirt, or blood, or perforated bowel spilling dark all over his hands. He cleaned the demon’s gut-spill off with a handkerchief and the holy water in his flask before anyone could see, in the confusion of the airplane deboarding, when Sam’s back was turned. The knife he had to hide quick inside his jacket. Her blood might still be on it, or it’s smeared over his shirt, or maybe it’s staining the inside of the jacket so it won’t ever be clean, no matter if he scrubs it until the canvas is shredding black thread. Only solution is to burn it.

He comes out of the stall. The businessman is off his phone. “Hell of a day, huh,” the guy says, tired like he’s packed seven into one, and Dean can’t talk yet like a normal person and only nods. Luckily that’s apparently normal for the airport, or at least normal for the airport on this kind of night, because he’s left alone then to duck his head down to the sink and splash his face with lukewarm water, the automatic sensor guttering out just enough for him to splash, dripping, not quite clean.

The TVs over the lounge now show a scattering of DELAYED and CANCELLED. The baby’s still crying, a war-raid shriek. Further along the corridor a group of Gornackis stare up at another television playing the news, and the closed captions say that the government is assuring the residents of Maryland that the light that pierced up through the atmosphere and encased the earth in a hard girdle of terror and which has stolen Dean’s center, has made every thought for the past hour feel like it’s coming from a terrible distant nightmare-land, one of those places he always hoped would be just a dream but then he woke up and there it was, a clawed night crowding up against the back of his neck—that light, it was a chemical explosion. Nothing to worry about.

He puts his back to the wall. The TV shows some kind of footage, an angle they didn’t have. A column of terrifying white. So bright it fuzzes the edge of the picture and the camera splinters and shudders and goes black.

For the rest of his life he will never again step foot in Ilchester, Maryland.

In the mob by the rental counters Sam has made his way to the front. He bends close to hear the little woman in her blue uniform. His hair falls from behind his ear and he tucks it back again, impatient. Dean’s heart throbs, sickening, high in his throat. Sam’s jaw, his cheekbone. The stupid curve of his nose. He signs some paperwork and the agent hands over car keys and Sam gives her one of those tight polite smiles and then turns his head and looks, somehow, unerringly, right at Dean. The smile disappears.

They made a plan, in stilted and cracked sentences. A car. A way out of the airport. A midnight drive to Ohio to see if Chuck had lived, and if he had to see what he could tell them. Sam blinks at him, through the glass, and a thought arrives to Dean from that claw-filled nightmare place that nowhere in the plan was there a space where he could stand in front of his brother and say—and say—go to his knees, and beg, and say—

But then, what would he say, and what would he ask, that he could possibly bear to hear. When he knows and can’t bear to know it. How inadequate it all was, in the end. All that trying. Here they are.

The sliding doors of the rental area part and Sam walks across the carpet. He pauses to let the woman with the screaming baby pass, in her frantic pointless circling to get the kid to calm. He says, “Got the keys.” He holds them out, dangling, so when Dean takes them their skin doesn’t touch. He doesn't quite look into Dean's face. From the corner of Dean’s eye, the television plays the footage again. That searing, blinding white.

[sngl-led-auto-lights]

Considering how cheap headlights and the electricity to run them are, why bother having a separate setting for running lights with no headlights on?

The existence of daytime running lights (DRLs) and separate lighting modes isn’t about cost—it’s about balancing safety, energy efficiency, and regulatory compliance. Here’s why automakers and regulators don’t just default to full headlights 24/7:

1. Safety Priorities

DRLs vs. Headlights: • DRLs (typically 400–800 lumens) are designed to make your car visible to others in daylight without blinding drivers. • Headlights (1,000–4,000+ lumens) are for illuminating the road at night or in low visibility. Running full headlights in daylight wastes energy and creates glare.

Glare Risks: Full headlights in daylight can wash out turn signals, brake lights, and pedestrian visibility. Studies show excessive daytime brightness increases collision risks by 7–12% in urban areas.

2. Energy and System Longevity

Power Draw: Light Type Power Consumption DRLs (LED) 5–10W per side Halogen Headlights 55–110W per side EVs and hybrids avoid wasting battery on unnecessary headlight use. For ICE vehicles, constant headlight use adds load to alternators, reducing fuel efficiency.

Bulb Lifespan: Halogen bulbs last 500–1,000 hours; running them 24/7 could burn them out in weeks.

3. Regulatory Requirements

Global Standards: • EU/Canada: Mandate DRLs but prohibit automatic full headlights during daylight (to reduce glare). • U.S.: No DRL mandate, but NHTSA requires separate headlight modes to avoid driver confusion.

Color and Brightness Rules: DRLs must be white/yellow and dimmer than headlights. For example, UN Regulation 87 caps DRL intensity at 1,200 cd (candelas) vs. 20,000–70,000 cd for low beams.

4. Technical Design Nuances

Heat Management: Headlights generate significant heat (halogens reach 250°C+). Continuous daytime use could warp housings or melt nearby components.

Sensor Integration: Automatic systems use ambient light sensors to switch modes. Keeping headlights off in daylight preserves night-mode responsiveness.

5. User Behavior and Flexibility

Driver Control: Separate modes let drivers: • Use parking lights (even dimmer than DRLs) for stationary visibility. • Manually toggle headlights in rain/fog without relying on DRLs.

Aesthetic Customization: Some drivers prefer DRLs (e.g., signature LED strips) for styling without full headlight glare.

Why Not Just Use Headlights?

Glare for Others: Full headlights in daylight can obscure brake lights and dazzle cyclists/pedestrians.

Battery Drain: A 100W halogen system running 12 hours/day costs ~$15/year in electricity but drains car batteries 3–5x faster when idling.

Wear and Tear: Bulbs, wiring, and switches degrade faster with constant use.

The Optimal Compromise Modern cars increasingly use adaptive lighting systems that:

Auto-activate DRLs in daylight.

Switch to low beams at dusk or in tunnels.

Enable high beams only when no traffic is detected.

This balances safety, efficiency, and cost—proving that separate settings are smarter than brute-forcing full headlights.

TL;DR: DRLs exist because they’re purpose-built for daytime visibility with minimal downsides. Full headlights are overkill (and counterproductive) when the sun’s out.

[lastimeexteriors-omaha]

What are solar-powered skylights, and how do they work?

Imagine having a skylight in your home that not only brightens up your space with natural light but also harnesses the power of the sun to function. That’s exactly what solar-powered skylights do. These innovative skylights have become popular for homeowners who want to add more natural light to their homes while being energy-efficient. Let's dive into solar-powered skylights and how they work so you can decide if they're a good fit for your home.

What Are Solar-Powered Skylights?

Solar-powered skylights are a modern twist on the traditional skylight. Unlike conventional skylights, which are often fixed and rely solely on the placement to capture sunlight, solar-powered skylights come equipped with a small solar panel. This solar panel captures sunlight and converts it into electricity, which powers the skylight's features.

These skylights aren't just about letting light into your home. They also come with built-in sensors, remote control options, and the ability to open and close on demand. This means you can enjoy fresh air and natural light with the touch of a button. Plus, because they’re solar-powered, they don't add to your electricity bill—it's all powered by the sun.

How Do Solar-Powered Skylights Work?

At first glance, solar-powered skylights might seem complex, but how they work is surprisingly straightforward. Here's how they function:

Solar Panel Collection: Solar-powered skylights have a small, integrated solar panel that collects sunlight throughout the day. This panel is usually mounted on the skylight, positioned to capture maximum sunlight. Even on cloudy days, the solar panel can still collect enough energy to power the skylight.

Energy Conversion and Storage: The solar panel converts sunlight into electricity, which is then stored in a built-in battery. This storage capacity means that even when the sun isn’t shining—like at night or on particularly cloudy days—the skylight can still operate.

Operation: The electricity stored in the battery powers the skylight's various features. These can include a motor that allows the skylight to open and close, sensors that detect rain and automatically close the skylight to prevent water from entering, and even remote control options for ease of use. Some models even have programmable settings, allowing you to schedule when the skylight opens and closes.

Smart Sensors: Many solar-powered skylights are equipped with rain sensors. If the skylight is open and it starts to rain, the sensor automatically triggers the skylight to close. This ensures your home stays dry even if you're not around to close the skylight manually.

Benefits of Solar-Powered Skylights

Solar-powered skylights offer a range of benefits that make them a great addition to any home. Here are some key advantages:

Energy Efficiency: These skylights don't add to your home's electricity usage because they use solar power. They rely entirely on renewable energy, making them an eco-friendly choice.

Cost Savings: Over time, solar-powered skylights can help reduce your energy costs. Maximizing natural light and ventilation can decrease your reliance on artificial lighting and air conditioning, leading to lower utility bills.

Enhanced Home Comfort: By controlling when and how much your skylight opens, you can enjoy fresh air and natural light exactly when you want it. This can improve indoor air quality and make your living spaces more comfortable.

Easy Installation: Solar-powered skylights don't require wiring, unlike traditional electric skylights. This makes installation quicker and often more affordable, especially in homes where running new electrical lines would be costly.

Why Choose Solar-Powered Skylights for Your Home?

Solar-powered skylights are an excellent choice to enhance your home's lighting and ventilation in an eco-friendly and cost-effective way. They bring in natural light, help regulate indoor temperatures, and offer the flexibility to open and close them as needed without adding to your energy costs.

Moreover, they come with the added convenience of automatic features like rain sensors and remote controls, making them a smart investment for any modern home. Solar-powered skylights are a step in the right direction if you're trying to reduce your carbon footprint and lower your energy bills.

Choosing the Right Solar-Powered Skylight with Lastime Exteriors

Selecting the perfect solar-powered skylight for your home can feel overwhelming with many options. That's where Lastime Exteriors comes in. With years of experience in the roofing and skylight industry, Lastime Exteriors can guide you through the process, ensuring you choose the skylight that best fits your home and lifestyle.

Our team will help you understand the different models and features available, and we'll handle the installation process with precision and care. We prioritize your home's comfort and efficiency, and our goal is to ensure that your new skylight looks great and performs optimally for years to come.

Ready to Brighten Up Your Home?

If you’re considering adding a solar-powered skylight to your home, now is the perfect time to take the next step. At Lastime Exteriors, we offer a variety of high-quality skylights that can be customized to suit your needs. Our experts are ready to help you choose the best option and ensure a seamless installation.

Call us today at (402) 330-0911 with any questions or to schedule an appointment! You can also email us at tony@lastimeroofing.com for a free estimate. Let’s work together to brighten your space with a solar-powered skylight's natural, energy-efficient light.

[govindhtech]

Motorola Edge 60 Pro Specifications And Availability

Customers may explore their inner and outer worlds more than ever with the Motorola Edge 60 series. Motorola Edge 60 Pro and Edge 60 can handle any profession or passion with their unique design and expressive skills. Motorola's first quad-curved design in this market segment with vibrant colours and textures, the most advanced edge device camera system ever with four pro-grade cameras, industry-leading durability standards, and new Moto Artificial Intelligence features that make daily life smarter, more effective, and more natural make both gadgets exciting.

Comfortable quad-curved design

The Edge 60 series' ultra-thin, continuous quad-curved design is pleasant to grip for long durations. New textured backings and gentle, curved edges give it a patterned look. The Motorola Edge 60 Pro sparkles with Pantone Shadow, Dazzling Blue, and Sparkling Grape. It has leather- and nylon-inspired finishes. From modest to vibrant shades, these trendy picks are conversation makers and suit a range of personalities.

Motorola Edge 60 is worth another look with its canvas- and leather-inspired PANTONE Gibraltar Sea and Shamrock finishes.

Like electronics, these innovative materials are attractive and durable. Both gadgets have top durability standards. MIL-STD-810H certification protects against extreme temperatures, 95% humidity, high altitudes, and 1.5-meter falls, whether rock climbing on vacation or dropping a phone on the way to work. The smartphones also include IP68/IP69 certifications and Corning Gorilla Glass 7i5, giving the finest protection against sand, dust, dirt, high-pressure water, and 1.5 meters of fresh water for 30 minutes.

Pro-grade photography for visual storytelling

Motorola Edge 60 Pro and 60 use technology and software to take great images. Day or night, four professional-grade cameras ensure every close-up or distant view matches consumers' expectations. Because advanced software eliminates guessing, customers can point and shoot for high-quality photographs. The Sony LYTIA 700C sensor in the 50MP main camera system offers brighter photographs in any lighting. Short blur-free intervals are due to OIS and 32x more focussing pixels in omni-directional all-pixel focus. The 50MP ultrawide angle lens lets users capture a huge group of friends, a city skyline, or snow-covered mountains, while the 10MP telephoto lens takes clear, detailed distant shots. Users may view the scene clearly from three times away with the Motorola Edge 60 Pro optical zoom, and fifty times closer with Super Zoom. The telephoto lens assist creates realistic photos that highlight a subject's features and more. Users may use the phone's 50MP front camera to capture impromptu selfies. Moto AI and Photo Enhancement Engine work together to improve quality, reduce noise, and refine details beyond hardware. This displays every image as it appears in real life. These candy bar phones are the only ones to achieve this certification, and their cameras meet Pantone Validated colour and SkinTone Validated requirements. With Ultra-HDR, material may be more bright and colourful. The Motorola Edge 60 Pro's AI-powered features let photographers finish their shots faster while playing with contrasts, themes, and angles: Group Shot automatically blends multiple frames in one second. This ensures everyone wants nice photos. Video quality enhancements include audio, colour, exposure, and clarity.

Moto AI enabled magical interactions

Moto AI is becoming a proactive, observant partner and improves camera experiences and daily duties. The Edge 60 series will include advanced moto AI prompts. Pay closely and remember that consumer input modified these. This information also affected how users used the Moto AI Edge 60 Pro, creating some of the most intriguing experiences. Next Move is a real-time suggestion system that recognises an itinerary or recipe on a user's screen and suggests next steps. They may use Playlist Studio to make a playlist based on the recipe they're seeing, store important information, or use Image Studio to create an image, avatar, wallpaper, or sticker inspired by their next trip. Smart Connect with AI lets users start a multitasking hub, broadcast to a TV, or mirror to a PC or tablet with a voice or text command like “show me this on my TV.”

Films with long battery life

Larger, sharper screens allow people to fully immerse themselves in their passion projects. To enhance content and details, the Edge 60 series has a 6.7" pOLED quad-curved display, Motorola's brightest and most dazzling. The on-screen activity highlights the user's current hobby, whether it's a new TV show or a topic they're researching. Pantone SkinTone Validated display and colours authenticate this information and people with varied skin tones. Users may utilise Dolby Atmos for immersive sound with these visuals. Customers changing activities or places don't worry about finding a power outlet. DXOMARK awarded the Motorola Edge 60 Pro the Gold Label and the highest smartphone battery score for its excellent battery life and charging. With 90W TurboPower charging and a 6000mAh battery, the Motorola Edge 60 Pro charges in six minutes. Additionally, 15W wireless charging provides maximum power and independence (wireless charger supplied separately). In addition, the efficient MediaTek Dimensity 8350 Extreme CPU powers on-device AI, fluid gaming, high-resolution videos, and more. Motorola Edge 60 has no power problems.

Its massive 5200mAh battery and 68W TurboPower rapid charging, which powers the day in eight minutes, enable recording, producing, sharing, binge-watching, and socialising.

Ecologically friendly fashion accessories

Moto Things may be linked to Motorola Edge 60 Pro and Moto Edge 60 to stay informed and complete a wardrobe. Moto buds loop, Motorola's latest earbuds featuring Swarovski crystals and Bose Sound. This set is ideal for those who desire superb sound without sacrificing style or comfort. With fitness assistance, the Moto Watch Fit works with most Android devices. These enhancements allow users to enjoy great music while monitoring their health and daily routines. Motorola Edge 60 Pro Release Worldwide release of the Motorola Edge 60 Pro occurred on April 24, 2025. World-wide availability Along with Europe, Asia, and Oceania, the phone is now available in the UK. It won't be available in the US. India availability India will soon get the Motorola Edge 60 Pro. Motorola India lists it on its website. Flipkart teases an online release. Before April 2025, India's debut date and selling details are expected.