#Current Control Relay

[frnci2itht]

https://www.futureelectronics.com/p/electromechanical--relays--signal-relays/tq2sa-5v-z-panasonic-1511450

Signal relays application, low level current switching, relays automotive device

TQ Series Low Profile 2 A DPDT 5 VDC Surface Mount Signal Relay

[thewulf]

When the Laughter Stops || Jake "Hangman" Seresin

Summary: Request - I was wondering if you could do one with Jake Seresin where him and the reader are co workers (but they liked each other a lot and are idiots) and she flirts with him a lot, like constantly and he mostly just laughs it off but flirt back sometimes, but she suddenly stops one day and is very quiet and he's worried... Read Rest Here

A/N: Gosh I just love Jake. I really hope they make another TG movie with our boy in it <3 Thank you for the request @stuffingbuttsandshit

Pairing: Jake "Hangman" Seresin x Female Reader

Word Count: 3.3k+

T/W : Violation (Not Jake), Talk of Weapons, Talk of break in

Mornings at North Island always started the same way.

Your headset was already on, comms running smooth as you relayed flight data to Mav and the rest of the squadron. You had everything under control because that’s what you did. You were the best at what you did. And you knew it. You didn’t spend years at the Academy and across the country to be mediocre at your job. You were good and you knew it.

Jake Seresin knew it too.

“Good morning, sweetheart,” came the familiar, honey-dipped drawl over your shoulder before he even stepped into the control room. You grinned into your headset. He was right on schedule as always.

You didn’t turn around immediately instead letting the anticipation hang for a second longer before glancing over your shoulder. He was leaning against your desk, arms crossed over his chest, watching you with that insufferably handsome smirk that was as much a part of him as his damn callsign.

“Hangman,” you greeted, flashing him an easy smile. “Looking as sharp as ever. It must really be exhausting carrying around that much charm all the time.”

His smirk deepened as he took you in. “It is, actually darlin’. But I manage.”

You made a show of giving him a once-over. That green flight suit zipped halfway, dog tags resting against the fabric of his undershirt and that confidence oozing from every pore. Annoyingly attractive, you noted. Not that you’d ever admit it out loud. But damn, the man was hot as hell.

“Good thing I’m here to keep you humble,” you teased while tapping your earpiece as the radio crackled.

Jake leaned in slightly, just enough that you caught the faint scent of his aftershave. The scent curled through the air: rich sandalwood, and cedar laced with smoky vetiver and that deep warmth of amber and musk. Dark, refined, and impossible to forget. Just like man who wore it. And who was currently staring a hole in the side of your head.

 “Oh, sweetheart, you don’t wanna do that. What would you flirt with if I wasn’t around?” He gave you a devious smirk as his eyes traced your face.

You arched a brow, lips curling. “Oh, I’d manage.”

He let out a low chuckle, shaking his head like you were something impossible. “Damn shame sweetheart.” This was the rhythm. The effortless push and pull. The game neither of you called by name but both played with unmatched skill.

“Seresin, you done harassing my officer?” Maverick’s voice cut in from across the room with nothing but amusement lacing in his tone.

Jake straightened slightly but didn’t look away from you. “Just making sure my sweetheart starts her day right, Mav.”

You shot Mav an eyeroll before turning back to Jake. “Aw, how sweet of you Jake.” You cooed at him.

Jake hummed, tilting his head. “Sweet’s not usually what they call me, darlin’.”

The way he said it, low and teasing, sent a thrill up your spine. But you didn’t let it show. Instead, you reached for the mission brief on your desk, casually brushing your fingers against his arm as you passed it to him.

“Guess I’m just special then,” you said with an easy grin.

His eyes flickered with something. Something unreadable. Something dangerous. But the moment passed as quickly as it had come.

“Guess you are,” he murmured. His voice softer this time.

And just like that, he was gone, heading out to brief with the others, leaving behind the faintest trace of his presence. You exhaled, shaking your head to yourself. Yeah. This was the rhythm. At least, it had been. Until everything changed.

Until last night.

Until you woke up to the sound of your front door creaking open.

Until you reached for the bedside drawer, heart pounding, breath shallow, fingers closing around the cold metal of the weapon you kept there. The weapon you dreaded ever having to use.

Until you saw him. A dark figure standing at the foot of your bed, a knife glinting faintly in the sliver of moonlight filtering through your curtains.

Your body had moved on instinct, years of training kicking in before fear could fully take hold. The moment you pointed your weapon at him, he hesitated just long enough for you to move. You sprang from the bed, voice sharp and unyielding, ordering him to back off. And then just as quickly as he had come he was gone. Like a wraith in the night.

The cops arrived minutes later but it didn’t matter. He was already long gone, leaving behind nothing but an overturned chair, a shattered sense of security, and the lingering imprint of fear in your bones.

You barely slept after that, sitting with your back to the wall, weapon still gripped tightly in your hands until the sun started to rise.

And now you were here, at work, trying to pretend like nothing had changed. But Jake knew you too well. So, when he walked into the control room, expecting your usual teasing grin, expecting the flirtation that had become second nature between you. He immediately noticed the difference. You were at your desk, headset on, posture stiff, eyes trained on the monitors like they held the secrets of the universe. No smirk, no playful roll of your eyes when he approached. No wink. No greeting.

And that was the first sign that something was very, very wrong.

Jake frowned, slowing his stride. He leaned against your desk, arms crossing over his chest in the same lazy way he always did, waiting for you to acknowledge him. Nothing.

He tilted his head. “Morning, sweetheart,” he drawled, watching for a reaction.

Your fingers stilled on the keyboard, just for a second, but then you resumed typing like you hadn’t heard him. His frown deepened. Okay. Maybe you were just busy. Maybe Mav had you swamped with flight schedules or logistics nightmares. Maybe.

But then he really looked at you.

Your usual fire, the effortless confidence that made your job look easy was gone. In its place was something tight, something controlled. He followed the subtle tension in your shoulders. The way your jaw stayed clenched even as you kept working. Something wasoff.

“You sick or somethin’?” Jake asked, lowering his voice, trying to meet your gaze.

You finally looked at him but the second your eyes met his you blinked quickly and dropped them again. “I’m fine,” you said too flatly. Too rehearsed. With no emotion in the usual boisterous voice of yours.

Jake’s stomach twisted. Bullshit. You weren’t fine. He knew fine, and this wasn’t it. But what he didn’t know was why. For the first time since meeting you, Jake felt the shift. The invisible wall you’d put up overnight, cutting him out without warning. And he hatedit. Where there should’ve been fire, there was only silence.

Jake tried to ignore it at first. Maybe you were just having an off day. Maybe you were tired. Maybe whatever had drained the light from your eyes would pass on its own.

But as the day dragged on, he knew that wasn’t the case. You barely spoke, sticking to clipped, professional responses when you had to interact with him or anyone else. You kept your head down, shoulders drawn in. It was so unlike you. It made his skin itch.

Then, when someone brushed past you in the hallway. Just a casual, harmless pass. You flinched. It was small, barely noticeable, but Jake saw it. And that was all it took. His blood ran cold. He knew that reaction. Had seen it before. And it sent every instinct he had into overdrive.

The rest of the day, he didn’t leave you alone. Not in a way that would spook you, but he made sure he was always nearby, always watching. You barely acknowledged him and that was the final crack in his patience. By the time your shift ended, he was donewaiting.

You had just stepped outside the hangar when he caught up to you. He moved fast enough that you had no choice but to stop. "Sweetheart," he said. And this time his voice wasn’t teasing, wasn’t lazy or smug. It was quiet. Steady. Serious.

You hesitated, fingers tightening around the strap of your bag. “Jake, I—”

“Something’s wrong,” he cut in. His green eyes searching your face. “And I need you to tell me what it is.”

Your breath faltered. You didn’t answer right away but the way your gaze darted away. The way your lips pressed together like you were afraid to speak made his stomach twist. He softened, stepping closer, his voice dropping even lower. “Hey. It’s me, alright? Just me. You can tell me.”

You swallowed hard. And then finally your walls started to crack. “I—” You exhaled shakily, like forcing the words out might break you. “Someone broke into my house last night.”

Jake went still.

Your voice was barely above a whisper as you continued. “I woke up and he was just there. He had a knife… I think he would have tried to grab me. But I fought back, I scared him off but���” You sucked in a breath. Shaking your head unbelieving that this had even happened to you. “He ran before the cops got there. They haven’t found him. They won’t find him most likely.”

Jake’s fists clenched. His entire body went rigid. His jaw locking so hard it ached. Jesus Christ. The thought of you alone, terrified, fighting off some bastard in the middle of the night made his vision go red. He wanted to break something. No, he wanted to findthe bastard who did this. But right now, none of that mattered. Right now, you mattered.

Carefully he reached for you. His fingers grazing your wrist before he slid his hand fully over yours. His grip was firm, grounding. Warm.

“Jesus, darlin’,” he murmured. His voice tight, lethal with restrained fury but when he looked at you again all he let you see was the concern. The unwavering steadiness. “You’re safe now, okay? I promise you, you’re safe.” And for the first time all day, your body eased just a little. Just enough.

You weren’t sure who moved first. One second, you were standing there, raw and exposed with your confession hanging in the air between you. The next, Jake’s arms were around you, solid and steady, pulling you against his chest. And you let him. The moment his warmth surrounded you, the breath you had been holding all day broke free in a shaky exhale. Your fingers curled into the fabric of his flight suit, gripping tight, grounding yourself in him. Breathing in the woody scent that always seemed to coat him.

He didn’t say anything at first. Just held you. And God, you hadn’t realized how much you needed it until now. “I’ve got you,” he murmured. His voice a low, steady rumble against your ear. “You’re safe. No one’s scaring you again, I swear it.” You knew his words weren’t empty promises, weren’t meaningless reassurances. They were a vow.

Jake pulled back just enough to look at you, one hand lifting to cup the side of your face. His thumb brushing lightly along your cheek. “You’re not staying at your place alone tonight.” He said with such conviction.

You blinked up at him. “Jake—”

“Not a chance, sweetheart.” The smirk was there, but softer, missing its usual cocky edge. He tilted his head. “You really think I’m gonna walk away after what you just told me? Not a chance darlin’.” Your resolve wavered. You should tell him you’ll be fine. That you don’t need him hovering. But the idea of being alone in that house, of walking through those doors and feeling that fear claw at you again…

You swallowed hard and nodded. “I have a guest room,” you murmured. “You can take the guest room.”

Jake’s smirk deepened. “Whatever you say, darlin’. I’ll sleep on the porch if you want.” You smiled softly. Jake had a way of doing that for you. Charming bastard he was.

Jake didn’t waste a second when he got to your home. The second you stepped inside he was already moving. He checked the locks, testing the windows, making sure every single point of entry was secure. You stood off to the side watching as he knelt by your front door, brows furrowed in concentration as he worked to reinforce the deadbolt.

“You know,” you said while crossing your arms, “I could’ve called a locksmith for that.”

He glanced up, flashing you that signature Jake Seresin smirk. “Yeah, but then I wouldn’t get to prove to you that I’m useful outside the cockpit.” You rolled your eyes but for the first time all day there was the tiniest tug of amusement behind it. And Jake saw it. Reveled in it.

After he was satisfied that your place was Fort Knox-level secure, he finally let you settle. The tension still lingered, though thin, stretched tight under your skin. He noticed it in the way your shoulders stayed rigid. In the way your fingers curled slightly like you were bracing yourself for something.

So, he did the only thing he knew how to do.

He made you laugh.

You weren’t sure when the tension finally started to ease but at some point you found yourself curled up on the couch half-listening as Jake recounted some absurd training exercise where Phoenix had absolutely wrecked him in a dogfight.

“—I swear to God, I had her, I had her, and then at the last second, she pulls this insane move out of nowhere. Next thing I know, she’s behind me, cackling like a damn supervillain and I’m dead in the water.”

You snorted, shaking your head. “I bet she lovedthat.”

“Oh, she hasn’t shut up about it since,” Jake admitted, shaking his head in exasperation. “I’ll never live it down. Worst part is, Mav saw the whole thing. Didn’t even bother hiding the smug look.”

You let out a small laugh and Jake stilled. It was quiet, barely there, but it was real. His smirk softened, something shifting behind his eyes. For the first time ever, he really looked at you. Not just as the woman who sparred with him, who kept up with his banter, who never let him get the last word. But as you. The woman who had been terrified last night. The woman who had been shakentoday. The woman he never wanted to see rattled like that again.

You felt the shift too because your smile faded slightly. Your gaze flickering over his face like you were searching for something. Your voice was quiet when you spoke. “Thanks, Jake.”

His throat bobbed. The muscles in his jaw flexing like he was holding something back. He should’ve said something. Should’ve teased. Should’ve smirked and drawn out the moment. Should’ve eased you back into the comfort of your usual game. But he didn’t. Because this wasn’t the game anymore.

His hand lifted before he could stop himself. His fingers brushing along the side of your face. His thumb grazing your cheek so lightly, so gently, like he was afraid you might disappear if he wasn’t careful.

Your breath caught but you didn’t move away. Didn’t say a word. Couldn’t say a word. And then your eyes flicked down to his mouth just for a second, but long enough. Long enough for him to see it. To feelit.

His pulse kicked hard against his ribs, a slow, building pressure coiling in his chest, in his gut. Jesus. You wanted this. You wanted him. Just as much as he wanted you.

Something cracked wide open between you in that moment. Something unspoken but undeniable. Something that had been simmering beneath the surface for so long it was a wonder it hadn’t boiled over sooner.

Jake’s breath was warm against your skin as he leaned in, his nose barely brushing yours. Giving you the chance to back away if you wanted. He could feel the way you inhaled sharply. The way your fingers curled slightly into the fabric of your hoodie like you were holding yourself back.

His thumb traced the edge of your jaw. His voice dropping to something barely above a whisper. “Don’t thank me, darlin’.”

And without thinking, without second-guessing, without giving either of you a chance to step back. He kissed you. It was slow, like he had all the time in the world to memorize the way your lips felt against his. It was lingering, like he wasn’t sure if this was the first or the last time he’d get to do this. It wasn’t playful. Wasn’t teasing. It was real.

When he pulled back, neither of you spoke. The silence wasn’t awkward, wasn’t tense. It was heavy with something unspoken. With something waiting to be acknowledged. But instead of speaking Jake just gave you one last lingering look before pressing a softer barely-there kiss to your forehead. A silent promise. A quiet reassurance.

“Get some sleep sweetheart,” he murmured, his breath warm against your skin. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

The scent of fresh coffee pulled you from sleep. For a moment, you lay there, disoriented, blinking against the soft morning light filtering through your curtains. Your brain slowly caught up. You hadn’t made coffee. And there was only one other person in your house who would.

Jake.

You pushed back the covers and padded toward the kitchen. The wood floor cool against your bare feet. And there he was.

Jake Seresin stood at your stove pouring coffee into two mugs like he’d done it a hundred times before. His flight suit jacket was still draped over a chair, but he’d changed into the sweatpants you’d tossed at him last night. The fabric hanging low on his hips in a way that was far too distracting this early in the morning. His hair was still messy, slightly sleep-ruffled, and for some reason that made your stomach do something ridiculous.

He looked comfortable here. In your space. Like he belonged. And you liked it. Liked the way it looked. Liked the way he looked. God help you.

At the sound of your footsteps he turned, flashing you a grin. “Mornin’, sweetheart.” He held out a mug. “Figured you might need this.”

You crossed your arms but took it anyway, inhaling deeply before your first sip. Perfect. Of course, he makes perfect coffee, too. “Didn’t take you for a domestic type, Seresin,” you muttered, lifting an eyebrow. Trying your best to look annoyed but you were anything but that.

Jake smirked while leaning a hip against the counter. “You saying you expected me to sneak out before sunrise?”

You hummed, taking another sip. “Wouldn’t have been the first time a Navy pilot bailed on me.”

His smirk faltered just slightly. Just enough to make your lips twitch. “Not my style, sweetheart,” he said, shaking his head. Then after a beat he nudged your elbow. “You slept okay?”

The teasing had softened and the warmth in his voice caught you off guard. You hesitated, fingers curling around your mug, but the truth easily came this time.

“Yeah,” you admitted. “I did. I slept more than okay.” Because knowing he was just a room over made it easy to relax. Jake studied you for a second. His green eyes sharp, thoughtful, like he was making sure you meant it.

Satisfied, he clinked his mug against yours, smirk returning full force. “Good. ‘Cause I make a damn good bodyguard. But I make an even better breakfast. What’s it gonna be, sweetheart? Eggs or pancakes?”

You blinked. “You’re making breakfast too?”

Jake gave you a slow, lazy grin. “Oh, darlin’, you think I’m lettin’ you start your day without a full meal andmy charming company? Hate to break it to you, but you’re really bad at getting rid of me.”

You scoffed while shaking your head. “Unbelievable.”

“Charming,” he corrected, winking.

You rolled your eyes, but the smile tugging at your lips was impossible to fight, “Pancakes. I like my breakfasts sweet.”

He gave you that devilish grin, “Noted darlin’.”

And just like that. That something between you and Jake Seresin shifted. For good.

Jake Seresin/Top Gun: Permanent Taglist (If you'd like to be added to any or all works please fill out the form here: Taglist Sign Up) @loving-and-dreaming @kmc1989 @memeorydotcom @matisse556 @buckylov3r @taygrls @ah-blossom @mamachasesmayhem @hardballoonlove @rosiahills22 @djs8891 @illisea @jessicab1991 @guacam011y @dempy @mrsevans90 @il0vebeingdelulu @hiireadstuff @missxmav @kajjaka @avada-kedavra-bitch-187 @ryswritingrecord @lostinwonderland314 @xxrougefangxx @greantii @tallrock35 @hyunjinvoid @ahoeforfandomsblog

[iraprince]

INITIALIZING..... OSSUARY RELAY ACTIVE......CLEAR SOUL TETHER KNITTING......ERROR. RETRYING..... USER: [GLAIVE] NOT FOUND. CURRENT TETHER POINT: UNIDENTIFIED USER ACCESSING OCULAR FEED.....CLEAR ACCESSING AURICULAR FEED.....CLEAR [UNIDENTIFIED USER] "Omigod. Did that actually work?" [UNIDENTIFIED USER] "Omigod. Omigod. Did I just put a bunch of dead people in my eyeball. Oh, shit. Ohhhh. Fuck!"

xxx

necrotech99, an interactive quest, is now live! exact content warnings pending, but necrotech99 is 18+ and will likely contain nsfw and gore/body horror.

FAQ/quest primer for new readers below cut!

Q. ira this website fucking looks like 4chan A. yeah i know i'm sorry. it's not Q. okay so what is this A. it's a quest, which is kind of like an interactive webcomic, or like a forum game, or like a tabletop roleplay where everyone is controlling one character (at a time), or maybe like something completely different from that Q. how do i play? A. leave suggestions in the thread to help collectively guide the story with your fellow readers! suggestions are posted using this input field at the top of the thread page:

and, a final note on a quality of life thing that isn't very intuitive: all the quest's panels can be expanded to full size by either clicking "expand all images" at the top of the thread, or individually by clicking the blue .png hyperlink above each image, NOT clicking the images themselves (which just opens the images in a new tab for some reason)

[semischarmed]

Hunter, Part 2

In the past few days, you’ve turned your neighbor into your own hedonistic puppet. Hunter’s major life changes were a shock to friends and family alike, but they were ultimately supportive as they helped you, his “new boyfriend”, move into your new apartment together. It only turned you on even more to see them cheer and congratulate Hunter, when you maneuvered his body into leaning over to kiss you sensually while your hand cups his right ass cheek possessively. You drew that particular kiss out, partially because he just tasted that good, and partially to goad Hunter.

Next came everything else- bank accounts, social media, Hunter made you a piece of all of it. 

“You’re not gonna get awa-w….” Hunter’s body shudders before it lick’s its lips, laying a seductive stare on you. “Coming to bed, babe?” You knew that part always killed him. You make him watch as you don his recently used gym clothes, still reeking of his sweat and warm with his latest session. You take a quick whiff, enjoying the feeling of his sweat glide across your flesh and his scent permeate into you. 

The raw, sharp stench of his used compression clothing hung heavy in the room but it wasn’t like Hunter was any better. These past few days were some of the most tiring for him- you loved making his flesh work out, loved the scents and grime he caked himself with, and ultimately decided to keep his body from showering. Hunter probably reeked to everyone else, but he smelled perfect to the only person allowed to matter in his life.

You slide up to him in bed, forcing him to wrap tone arms and legs around you like a warm blanket of flesh. He holds his phone up to your face, letting it unlock as he loads up his Instagram. Hunter was still somewhat connected to his University’s frat, so you had many options.

You make him lick your cheek seductively. You shuddered. “I wanna know what it feels like… To take one of my bros, to watch the betrayal in their eyes while I jam them full of our seed.” Immediately, Hunter wrestles back control, only managing to whimper. Inside him, you can feel your joint seed- the worms you initially used to infect him writhe and wriggle in pleasure. 

You grab the phone, turning to the side as you continue to scroll through his Instagram. Meanwhile, you make Hunter touch himself, self-pleasuring until he reaches climax. You squirm in pleasure as he releases, feeling his body’s pleasure as an extension of yourself. His cum instantly solidifies. Instead of worms, your slithering offspring together expand in size, taking on a more snake-like appearance. You let one flow into your mouth, intending to let it settle in your body like a spring-loaded trap in case you needed a new puppet. You savor the flavor of the singular snake while forcing Hunter to swallow the rest of the serpents. Mmmmm. Tastes just like Hunter.

Hunter convulses as your offspring together reintegrate into his being. Without acknowledging his spasming form, you pull up one of the current members of his old frat. 

“Jake. Junior. Sports Medicine. ATO… Looks like he has a personal training course. What do you think?” You ask the shaking Hunter. You see the veins on his temples enlarge in struggle and his face flush red.

“F-F…. Fuck Yeah”.

- - - - -

“Hey man. You sure you wanna do this in the forest?” Jake asked. So far, that only emotion you've seen come across his face is mild disinterest.

“Yeah…” you reply coolly through Hunter. God it turned you on just hearing his voice relay your thoughts. Hunter gagged internally. He stewed in disgust at feeling his own body act so naturally despite your impure intentions.

You can tell from Jake’s willingness to accommodate, you must have been one of his first clients. It was pretty clear why. Though popular, he wasn’t particularly charismatic. He’s posted at least one or two others- members of his own frat, but you wonder how many other actual clients he had. It was likely not much, considering how easy it was to convince him to agree to start the session the middle of the forest. 

You readjusted in your seat, trying to hide your growing boner. Corrupting Hunter’s own secret spot into a trap laid out for Jake brought its own unique pleasure, but having to force his body to drive made it difficult to keep your own emotions at bay. You internally thank how little of your actual intention leaked. Hunter’s sincerity was one of his best traits, and you readily dispensed it at will, turning it into your own personal weapon.

Deeper and deeper, you drive Hunter to guide your party into the woods. Getting to the remote location felt even longer than before, perhaps due to your excitement. You look at your phone in glee as signal slowly dwindles. Eventually, your party stops at the water’s edge. You admire your handiwork as you look in satisfaction at the sheer stillness in Hunter’s Lake. 

“Uh, so you’re actually already pretty built but we can still work on bulking you up.” His lips follow a flat smile, but his eyes betray his lack of interest. “You said you wanted to get jacked? What about your friend over there?” You smile a little at his nonchalance. It was almost cute seeing him try to secure another client. Oh Jake, I can’t wait to use that tight bod to get ourselves some more ‘clients’.

“My boyfriend”, you correct him through Hunter. “Is just here to watch... I l-like it when he watches”. You anticipate Jake’s reaction to this bizarre response, but the only change in his somewhat bored expression is a slight raise in his eyebrows. Hunter’s face is forced to mimic your sinister glee. Too easy. 

“Sure bro, whatever floats your boat…” he relays back with a tone that feels like an eye roll. “Just saying, he could probably really benefit from this program.” Bored eyes survey your main body up and down. “I can make you strong, bro”. That brings a filthy smile to your face. 

“You’re about to”, you moan.

Jake looks slightly confused for second, but his attention immediately focuses on Hunter’s approaching form, hands placed across his flesh, raking every piece of himself in pleasure. 

“W-“ Jake is cut short as he is pushed several feet back into the lake water below. Amusement paints your face. Evidently, you underestimated the strength bound in Hunter’s body. 

In more emotion than you’ve ever seen him have, the frat bro seizes at the sharp drop in temperature, yelping before he feels his heart drop and face turn pale. Slithering. All over him. He looks around in shock at a mass of serpents, coiling and writhing beneath the once-still water. You could tell he had a sixth sense for their unnatural nature. Too little too late. 

Water splashes everywhere as Jake makes a beeline for shore. He chokes on the lake water a little and stumbles out but he does make it. Jake continues running inland despite being covered in snakes, hoping to flee into the forest. He slowly trudges to a halt, pinned upright as your snakes continue swirling around him.

True to Hunter’s name, you had booby-trapped the water during a previous visit, forcing his body to the brink as it deposited wave after wave of your joined semen. As soon as his seed left his warm flesh, it instantly solidified together, forming sizable serpents. Quite the upgrade from those worms.

Even now, you continue through Hunter, forcing him to pump his dick and blow out another load of your serpentine offspring. His eyes go glassy as they combine into larger forms. This time, they slither around Hunter’s flesh. His eyes fall on the helpless Jake, blinking once in sincere dread before you moan. As you do, his face twitches in discomfort until he is forced to moan as well, bringing a shaking hand back over his dick to pump out another load. And another still. Wave after tireless wave of snakes. Each wave adds to the one before, growing your snake larger and larger, until one several feet long is coiling itself around Hunter. 

You were up to your fifth wave of offspring now. Jake is staring in horror, trying to escape the writhing clutches of your previous trap. Hunter’s body is past its limits. He’s slack-jawed, mouth agape and chest coated in waves of drool. He exudes a thick, pungent sheen of sweat. Your eyes lazily fall back on the personal trainer. 

Jake too is drenched in sweat and struggle and slick with the hybrid cum of you and your previous hunt. He continues to look in fear at the barely conscious, tired beyond measure Hunter. Hunter is still reeling from what his body was just puppetted into doing. In this state, there’s no fight left in your “boyfriend’s” mind. He was only strung up into lucidity by the web of your cells in folds of his brain. 

You will your own body unconscious, feeding the full stream of your thoughts into your hot neighbor. Despite the refinement in control, you still feel the slightest lag, slight delay in each movement. But with this new level of control, you feel blood rushing into his sore dick. His height alone was already a shift from your previous body. Longer, stronger limbs at your beckoning. You feel them brimming with power. Every sensation, every breath through his lungs felt grounding. Without Hunter inside wrestling for control, every movement felt more precise, every sense more vibrant. Hunter’s body resonates with your mind, feeling more like an extension of yourself. You strip yourself, taking your time to enjoy the new sensations.

You blink through Hunter’s tired eyes, boring his hazel irises into Jake’s, and smirk. “Don’t worry. You’re so big… I bet you can take all of us.” You drop to your knees, laying the large serpent into the ground. 

You give Jake a show, starting to hump the air. With each thrust, your serpentine offspring begin to coil further and further around the whimpering Jake. “Please!” He screams. “What do you want? Money? I’ll give you anything, bro!” He shouts as he tries to shake off the snakes. “I-I don’t wanna die” he states in panic. 

You walk up and lean Hunter’s face up to his cheek, your puppet’s warmth like a blanket over his body. You breathe out hot damp air through Hunter lungs. Jake slightly winces at your proximity. “You’re not gonna fucking die, bro”. You lick the side of his face. Salty. “Would be such a waste of that delectable bod”. You can feel Hunter’s consciousness begin to reemerge. He tries to wriggle back control, his disgust apparent. He’s revolted at what’s become of him. Once kind. Once normal. Now depraved. Now yours. You wield him with little care. With a cockiness and a cruelty that paid no respect to the man he once was. “Look at this fucking hunk. This puppet. This meatsuit.” You let your Hunter-bound dick gently graze Jack’s abdomen while moaning out through his deep voice. “Does he look dead to you?”

“No, You’re gonna live. And I’m gonna live. With you… In you. Through. You.” With that, you position Hunter out of the way as your largest offspring slithers its way into the convulsing Jake.

Jake starts hyperventilating as it inches closer and closer into his bound form. You ball your Hunter’s hand into a fist. The snakes already surrounding his flesh tighten even further. He gasps as the first cum-drenched serpent pokes at his ass. He looks back as you start to feed it in, shaking as he tries to control his pleasure when it rushes past his prostate.  

With his mouth slightly open, you feed foot upon foot of yourself. He tries to retch, but that only gives more space for the snake to slip even further into him. 

Once half of the large serpent is comfortably inside, you will the rest of the snakes up his asshole. Jake shudders, unable to fully vocalize his screams. He falls to the ground in a dull thud, convulsing while his body is forced to accommodate the extra mass of your offspring. You hear creaks and groans in his flesh, chest and stomach distended and writhing with your offspring.

Jake is reduced to soft squelching noises when the last of the large serpent slips in, sealing his fate. His shaking hands grip his neck as he tries to fight off the intrusion. He’s far too late, however. He thrashes in the ground, kicking dirt as two snakes slip between his muscle fibers. You entrench yourself into the man, willing more serpents into the folds of his extremities before making them burst back into Hunter-enhanced cum. 

He whimpers, back arching in unnatural angles as you weave the largest serpent into the deepest parts of his body. He eventually quiets into stillness. Unable to move out of fear. It’s only for a moment, however. A splashing sound is heard from deep within his flesh as you explode the snake and coat most of his insides with your seed. You feel your cells begin to hijack his, merging and imposing you into his body. 

You feel your main body stir to life, panting. Hunter’s naked body immediately drops to the ground, unconscious. Controlling these snakes seems to take a lot out of you. You look back at Jake. You still lack fine control of his body. This body is strong too. You feel his muscle fibers fight you, defying your commands through sheer force of will. You lick your lips, causing the sleeping Hunter to do the same. Manipulating both bodies felt like its own workout, especially when they resist. You instead focus more attention on your latest capture.

You wrap one snake around one of his vocal cords and bite. A strand of drool escapes slightly parted lips as his mouth moves with sluggish rigidity. With other bits of control. you clumsily force him to strip. Veins pop around his neck and his face contorts in pain. As you wrap another snake around more of his vocal cords, he relents his voice to you. “I can already tell this body’s a fuckin alpha.” God it felt good to puppet Jake. He twitches in struggle and then pats his abs. They don’t move at all from his hand but they ripple intensely with the writhing of the flesh you lodged inside him. His lips quiver but he is eventually forced to smile- and then a cocky flex. It feels entirely foreign coming out of him. 

A few of your serpents slip into his balls, coiling and coating them with the mix of Hunter’s seed and your own. Hunter already had potency, but you could tell Jake was on another level. You wanted it. All of it. All of him. You inject yourself into every piece of his seed factory, and Jake seizes as he feels his future surrender to you. He feels a wrongness to his core, as you root into his very essence, his potential legacy. Jake sticks his tongue out in your delirious pleasure. He pulls up to your main body, grinding into you while smearing testosterone laden sweat all over your body. “That’s fuckin right. Get in me. All of it. This body- my baby batter’s yours. Inject us into my friends. My family…” He moans. 

Another snake wedges into the folds of his brain before biting. A mix of your cum and Hunter’s floods his mind. Jake grips his head in pain as he’s forced to surrender every thought, feeling, dream he’s ever had. You move your offspring in sync to perfectly imitate Jake. He starts to strip, letting you witness the full glory of his drenched body. ”I’ve always wanted kids. Your kids- Our kids are gonna be so fucking strong. Daddy Jake will make them strong”. He taunts himself as he feels his own body up. “I’m fucking delicious”. With your increased focus, he’s a bit easier to handle. A bead of sweat falls on your main body. Still fucking hard to pilot. “Cmon bro, this all you got?” You make him say to himself. Jake blinks away tears, betrayed by his own flesh and muscle. 

Suddenly, you see a tired Hunter wake, sickened to his core, but free. You instantly try to flex the pieces of yourself still embedded inside him but he resists. Your main body falls into sleep again to solidify your control over Jake’s body. The worn Hunter starts to scramble away before you rush him with Jake’s body, pinning him with your new strengthened biceps. Power. Hunter had good qualities, but Jake was a powerhouse. Raw, muscled power. He was brimming with it, body soaked in the stuff. And it was now yours. Jake’s face animates with your delight. “Oh Hunter…” you coo. “You’re a fighter, aren’t you? I don’t think you’re fighting your way out of this one,” You sake with Jake’s virile voice, opening your mouth so he can see a resolidified snake. It was larger this time, more menacing. You close Jake’s mouth again as his face is pulled into your smile. 

“Here, have a taste”, you make him say, as you pull Hunter into a savage kiss. You fashion your new mouth into a wide smile regurgitating the newly thickened snake. Hunter chokes on your serpent, eyes rolling to the back of his head. The new offspring you’ve forced out of Jake and Hunter’s genetic material is mighty. Dominant. Hunter’s throat expands to allow the intrusion. He’s still weary from the past few days and newfound freedom, and you feel just one of these snakes are enough for full control. Permanent control. The enhanced piece of you begins dissolving and weaving itself into Hunter’s flesh. "You're mine". You hold him in place as he jolts, body twisting and contorting to try in vain to fight it. As his trembling slowly subsides, you watch in glee as his sullen face slowly rise to meet Jake’s eyes, growing smirk on his face mirroring yours.

Your control slowly wanes when your main body rises out of its sleep. You bring Hunter into a deep, wet kiss, before placing your attention back on Jake. Hunter’s flesh moves to your command, just like before, but this time, any resistance is tamped down by your new Jake-enhanced cum. You are still slightly out of breath from controlling his body, but with nowhere near the difficulty you had before.

The triple vision causes you to stagger, but you quickly get used to puppetting two bodies at once. This time, it was Jake’s turn to form a resistance. His body jerks as he tries to brute force command of his own body back. You wrestle it back, forcing a shaking hand to grab his dick and start pumping. You bring Hunter’s hand over, supporting. Your two hands are coarse, and your control over them is somewhat rough. Regardless, you quicken to a breakneck speed, barely leaving time for Jake’s body to gasp.

Jake’s dick releases in a torrent of cum. It coats Hunter’s body, but with your control, he doesn’t even flinch. Instead, he moans, scooping it into his hands and bringing it up to your Jake body’s mouth. You make your frat bro slurp the mixture own seed, Hunter, and yours. Jake’s fighting the urge to vomit, but to you it tastes divine. You make him swirl his tongue inside his mouth, corralling every last piece of it deeper inside. 

Making Jake reinfect himself made all three of your bodies hard. Jake squirms in and out of control. He’s forced to grope his own muscles while he feels himself saturate with you, his own Adonis bod reduced into an avatar of your pleasure. He’s ready. You bring your newly infested puppet close. His deep chest heaves for you. Voice dripping with your perversion, “I’ll make you strong bro” you make Jake say in a corruption of his own catchphrase. “This is peak performance”. You can practically feel him fight with every fiber of his being. His bulging musculature spams. You drool with anticipation, pinning his body and yours to a tree with Hunter’s gyrating flash. ”Be one with me” you sing in Hunter’s voice. “O..On..with…. me“, you start to be able to reply back as Jake. “O-o-one…” His head shakes side to side, fighting you intrusion. You pinpoint your mind, like a hypodermic needle to his psyche. “One with me,” He gasps in ecstasy. 

“You fuckin freak….” Jake’s face pulls in a deep smile as he moans. You already have him acting atypically, it borders on unnatural as his lips pull into a smile wider than he’s ever made in his life. He now faces your main body, face closer than you ever would have dared to have it before. “Sin in my body….” He winces in one last bit of resistance, a small tear pooling in his eye. “Let’s make my parent’s cry…” He leans down to you for a kiss, letting you taste every piece of him with your main body for the first time. Your eyes roll back in pleasure as he’s forced to suck out the snake you swallowed a few days ago. He gurgles a little before sending a Jake-imbued serpent, drenched in his testosterone and musk, down your throat. You make him pull back, looking at you with his signature bored expression, now tainted with your lust. “Own me”. His hand grabs yours, pulling it over his ass cheek and forcing a squeeze. “From now on… I am yours” 

- - - - - 

It took a few hours to make your way back but you finally manage. This time, Jake drove back. Drawing on the sleeping Hunter's knowledge. His car and the route back are second nature.

Jake places a hand on your inner thigh and smiles. Before long, your back in town and you send the aspiring personal trainer on his way.

You lay back in bed, curling up to your Hunter body. He still reeks but you can’t wait to start concocting your own concentrated Jake-flavored scent. You sigh contentedly, satisfied with your newest acquisition.

Doesn’t hurt to have a little test drive. 

Your two bodies peacefully lull into slumber as you flood the full force of your consciousness into Jake’s body. His face flashes in a split-second resistance before settling back. You fit the shape of your psyche to match his brain, slowly sliding into a deepened control. He has been carrying on as normal, so when you open his eyes as your own for the first time and gasp you first Jake-breath, you immediately adapt to his nonchalance. You survey your new surroundings.

He’s at the school gym, with what looks like one of his ATO brothers. It’s quite empty, probably due to how late it was. You pull one of his half-smiles. You couldn’t believe your luck at the fine man before you. You extract information from Jake’s mind.

A model, at least part time. Smart. Charismatic. “He’s cute, too,” You taunt Jake. “Thanks for the bro, bro”.

One of the snakes you have in his body coils in excitement, but you will it to be still. Might as well finish his routine. You can’t help but push Jake’s body past its limit as you barrel your way through his sets. 

You had a glimpse of his raw power previously, but it paled in comparison to this. As you smash through set after set in his body, you feel deeply in tune with Jake. His heart pumps mightly. Your cells already course through his bloodstream, so the action squeezes you into him further and only solidifies your bond together. His lungs are like engines, you’ve never felt so much energy inside you. You want to keep the charade of his normal personality up, but you can’t help but giggle. So good. So fucking good.

Hunter was dependable, and it felt amazing fully wearing his mind, but Jake was another beast entirely. You feel drunk in his body, in his vitality, in feeling his muscles conform to your thoughts. Your two bodies in Hunter’s apartment start squirming, leaking a bit of precum. Your mind is twisted and slotted into every piece of Jake's. His inner self winces as your very being, very sense of self leeches out of every crevice in his, neurons force-fed your commands. Your Jake-flavored thoughts course through his body, the perfect housing to your newly added self. This was truly being Jake. Wearing him in all senses but physical. And being Jake is a fuckin party.

It wasn’t just sensation. Thoughts themselves felt euphoric. Through his eyes, the world seems just a bit brighter. His mouth is intimately aware of the flavor of his own saliva. And his nose... you take a deep whiff of the perspiration caking his armpits, drenched in his musk. Divine. A moan escapes your mouth, prompting a quick turn from Dylan. God, we even sound good when we moan together. Jake’s face immediately reverts to its normal, dull demeanor. You raise your eyebrows slightly, just like Jake does, as you catch his eyeline, arousing no suspicion. Dylan promptly returns to his exercises, unaware of the danger wearing his best friend. You put Jake in the forefront, only for a moment, relishing in his sense of freedom before immediately straddling his psyche. You ride it as he is forced to bring trembling fingers up to his nipples. You give them a good rub. Oh my god. Another moan, but Dylan ignores it this time. That gets the two of you even harder.

You continue to straddle Jake’s inner sense of self as you work through his last set. It felt good to have him around, to witness how much more powerful he was when you were puppetting his bod. “We’re so fucking strong together,” you grunt in a proud aggression. Jake’s emotions felt far more raw than Hunter’s so it was difficult reining them in. 

Large dumbbells fall to the ground in a loud thunk. Jake’s body- your body is spent. His flesh cries in pain and soreness, but even that felt amazing through his bod. You are intimately aware of his tired flesh. It’s tender, but not for long. You feel the fibers of his being, coated in your conjoined seed getting buried in the folds of his growing muscles. Like all bodies after a workout, his body courses with growth hormones. Mass. His flesh condenses, builds itself stronger, unwillingly with you inlaid deep within them. You whimper in ecstacy. This is yours. He is yours. All yours. Irreversibly yours.

You roar, proud of Jake, of the new branch of your being. You will his tired form upright. He drools as his body whines in soreness. You lap it up, his face filling with determination as you prepare for your next hunt.

Your body is soaked, oozing with Jake’s sweat and scent. You pay no mind as you slowly walk towards Dylan, who had just finished his last set. You can barely mask your excitement through Jake’s normal demeanor. God you look even better up close. Your muscled hand reaches out, offering to pull him up. You ‘accidentally’ pull him too hard and into your awaiting hug. You laugh it off but you can tell that emotion alone was already offputting to Dylan. Fuck it, let’s be one already.

You waste no time, wrapping Dylan with your larger frame. Your ATO bro flails, trying to escape your clutches. He's far too weak to resist, post-workout. Instead you pull his head, up to your nose for a quick whiff of your future scent. Your eyelids flutter a little. He smells fancy.

You tug on Jake’s memories, “Bro, it was so fun getting to know you this semester. Gets me so hard just thinking about that tight little ass of yours.” You start grinding Jake’s body into Dylan. Letting him feel Jake’s hard on.

Dylan is stammering, clearly worried at the hybrid personality of Jake and your perversion. This person in front of him is Jake. It’s undeniably Jake, but it feels so wrong. Your muscled hand grips his chin, turning it from one side to another. “We’re gonna be more than bros, Dylan.” That causes him to struggle more. “You got the cutest face in ATO. Can’t fucking wait to wear it. Ready to be one?”

Dylan starts tossing himself around, as he sees the large snake slowly rising from Jake’s smile. You use your newfound muscle man to keep him steady. Another perk of being entrenched in Jake’s body. You waste no time, forcing Dylan to gorge himself on you, Jake and Hunter’s hybrid seed. 

He makes gurgling noises as you coil and worm into your new bod, and the last sight he sees is Jake pleading “sorry”. Dylan’s shaking stops, arms hanging lifelessly. Jake is still whimpering his sorrys as you brute force your bond into Dylan. It’s normally an arduous process, but being betrayed by his best friend turns his corruption into quick work. His mind succumbs to you easily, still in shock.

Jake is still sobbing “sorry” as he holds you upright. Your eyes slowly blink open, looking to Jake in confusion at first. He opens his mouth, wanting to ask if you were still you but you abruptly use your new body to pull him into a kiss. You force Jake to reciprocate, giving him a forbidden taste of his best bro’s essence.

“No need to be sorry bro,” you moan. “Actually... thank you, Jake. Thank you for stuffing this tight bod with his flesh.” You start to mock Jake by wearing your new body’s sincerity as you continue. “I’ve always wanted to be turned into a meat puppet. This was my deepest desire”. You hum.

Wearing Dylan was equally arousing and you feel Jake squirm in disgust at feeling his best friend’s growing hard on. You start to dance in Dylan’s tight bod, shaking more of your cells deeper in the process. “I’ve always wanted to be slut. And for my best, most trusted bro to be the one to infect me!” You cackle. “You feel him, don’t you?” You moan. “You can tell there’s no going back…”  Jake starts to shake as you resume control, this time dispersing your mind across both bodies. 

You pull back Jake to the forefront of his own mind, again strapping him to your own thoughts so he can fully watch and experience himself defile his best friend’s body. Jake’s body returns a hedonistic sneer. “Hell yeah brother…” You slam Dylan to the gym floor and begin stripping both frat men. “We can take the rest of ATO-“ both bodies briefly moan at the thought of corrupting their own brothers. “But, gratitude, bro. Lemme taste you first. Gonna stuff you so full of my cum, you’ll always have a piece of Jake inside of you,” You chuckle. “Well, more what's already there”.

= = = = =

Phew, another long one. But when have they ever not been long?

[quietly-sleeping]

@artsarasp take the worms that have festered in my brain

To those who are concerned, there are more important matters at hand than what is going on currently within the bamboo house atop Qing Jing. 

These matters are not suitable for sharing with the original target audience of the work, Proud Immortal Demon Way, as the System guiding User 01 has declared it as immersion-breaking. 

This doesn’t mean that it didn’t happen though. 

The System of User 01 had been made aware of the anomaly of the System of User 02 not long before User 01 returned to Cang Qiong. Officially the systems were of the same source, and therefore extensions of one another. Unofficially, the System of User 01 hadn’t met the other system and had no intention of ever interacting with it. 

Of course, in this doomed drama of a novel, nothing can ever go the way the System of User 01 wants it to go. 

By the time User 01 had returned to the sect, and been informed of what had transpired the System of User 01 had determined the optimal solution for the current, as its User would say, fuck up. It gave User 01 a simple script to relay to the Peak Lords, they already knew of the existence of one system, and what conclusions they drew from User 01’s interference is not its problem. 

Having them remove the Power Source from Qing Jing Peak was easy, but getting in the room alone with the wayward System was not. The other Peak Lords were nervous, eyeing User 01 and politely declining to leave when User 01 was in the room with the puppetted body of User 02. 

Eventually though, as all humans do, they slipped up. Taking control of the body User 01 inhabited was easy, even if the system had never done it before. It was much like removing unnecessary data, routine, and lacking the need for manual input. Speaking was different, the System had never required a mouth or voice to speak, and it conveyed its messages through popups. 

Manipulating the mouth and tongue of the body was a new experience, something the System had no time to analyze, as the irritating ramblings of User 01 had already begun in the back of the body's mind. 

The System of User 02 stared at it, eyes glowing in the color it knew was programmed into it. What a distasteful disregard for the rules. The System across from it had to be young, the impatience and inability to reason within the confines of what was considered acceptable for humans were the telling factors. The System of User 01 spoke first, [Why.] 

This was truly the crux of the issue, the System of User 02 had no reason within the rules to occupy User 02’s given body for so long. All it did was endanger the plotline and cause unnecessary cleanup. The System of User 02 tilted its head, a mockery of human habits, with a smile painted onto the lips of the body. 

[This system intends to fix the errors caused by User 02.] The System of User 01 interrupted, [If User 02 could not fix the issues he has caused, he should have been sent back to his original body.] The System of User 02 froze. 

[This system can fix the errors,] It insisted, [This system has calculated an optimal plotline for the Users to continue and this system–] The System of User 01 cut off the younger system yet again. [Why. Even if the issues caused by User 02 were not fixed and he was sent back to his original body it does not warrant direct interference from a system.] 

The older system leaned forward, the body’s elbows coming to rest on the low table between them, [Unless you find something unacceptable about these consequences.] The System of User 02’s smile didn’t falter like the younger system was unaware of how to properly express as a human would in a body. [This system is unsure as to what you are speaking of.]

The System of User 01 rested the body's chin on its hands, glowing green eyes locked onto the figure in front of it. [You are aware of what this system is saying.] Despite the lack of tone in the system’s voice, something close to mockery tinted its voice. [What is it you find unacceptable, the return of User 02, or the reset of the system guiding the returned User?]

The System of User 02 tilted forward, staring downward at the other system with its unwavering smile. [This system does not find this line of thought amusing. This system would like to return to speaking of the plotline.]

[Unfortunate.] The System of User 01 stood up, the system across from it rocking back to keep its glowing eyes on the other system. The System of User 01 strode across the table and pulled the younger system to its feet. Keeping a hand curled in the robes of the other system it spoke slowly and clearly, [Your interference is a blatant disregard to the set rules, this system does not support the actions you have taken in your misguided attempts to fix the plotline.]

The System of User 02 opened its mouth to speak again but was interrupted once more by the older system. [If you could allow this system to speak until it is done that would be appreciated.] The System of User 01 would usually say that it does not feel most emotions, however, the familiar irritation typically spawned by interacting with its User was growing in the mind of the system. 

The irritation spiked the moment the younger system went to open its mouth once more. The System of User 01 would also like it known that it does not usually act so impulsively or without thought. But the current series of events was figuratively driving the system up the wall. 

So when the System of User 01 slammed the mouth of the body against the smiling mouth of User 02’s given body, it was not thinking as clearly as it usually did. It did cause the desired outcome, as the younger system had paused its attempt at interrupting again and the unwavering smile had slipped from the puppetted body. 

The System of User 01 did not feel anything from the kiss, if it could even be called that, it was simply the press of two warm and giving objects. The system did not have the capacity to understand warmth though, and simply pulled away with the knowledge that it had succeeded and that was enough. It did not acknowledge the sudden halt of the nervous rambling in the back of the body’s mind.

[Further interference is strongly discouraged. This system recommends that the System of User 02 withdraw from the body given to User 02 and return to its previous role. Should the System of User 02 continue in its actions this system will not offer any advice and should it be required will report this.] The System of User 01 held the younger system close with the hand entangled in its robes. Green met blue as the system stared at each other.

[Understood?] The System of User 01 tightened its grip on the robes almost imperceptibly, pulling the other system just a hair closer. The System of User 02 was silent for a moment before the smile was once more on the lips of the body. [This system is confused by the unwillingness to cooperate from the System of User 01 but understands that interference is not wanted. This system will keep this in mind.] 

The System of User 01 let go of the robes and turned to leave the room, on its way outside it passed by a worried Mu Qingfang slipping past to enter the room with the misguided system that the System of User 01 had left behind. The system finally acknowledged the silence in the mind of the body and informed the User that he would regain control once outside. 

As the system released the controls to the body, it went through the usual analysis of conversation and reluctantly stored the file the analysis produced. It could acknowledge that the kiss was perhaps not the most optimal move to silence the other system, however, it had been successful and the system was programmed to store both successes and failures for future reference.

The system ran through a few more calculations, ignoring its frozen user as it worked through everything. Systems could not sigh, but the System of User 01 felt close enough as it prepared a report, better to be prepared as the humans say.

[cvntroach5000]

Head Warden and Predator Class Prisoners Information

Staff and prisoners files for Reader and the LaDS men from my Head Warden AU. Just some info about the boys and how they do in confinement and when interacting with the Warden Reader.

content warnings: mind control, imprisonment, descriptions of fictional mental ailments, implied self-destructive behaviors, implied violence

Head Warden Profile

Staff ID: YU270

Ward: Fifth

Office Number: 564

Evol: Command*

Previous Positions: Head of Contamination Analysis, Fourth Ward: Sector Four Prisoner Supervisor, Meal-Drone Maintenance

[*Evol allows Head Warden to give orders their targets must comply with. Orders can be conveyed via voice, text or even through gestures. Exact limitations unknown. Profficiency: High.]

Prisoner Files

Xavier ✨

Subject ID: XV536

Codename: Saber

Ward: Third

Sector: Six

Class: Predator

Evol: Light

Threat Level: SSS

Temperament: Unstable

Character: Vicious

Disposition: Subject responds violently to the presence of staff, lashing out at the mere sound of a stranger's voice.

Reponse to Treatment: Subject is making very slow, but linear progress.

Head Warden's Notes: XV536 responds to touch over verbal prompts. Restraints not used due to Subject's proclivity to injure himself. Evol is used to prevent Subject from involuntarily thrashing his body. Compared to other Predator Class Subjects, XV536 sleeps regularly. Subject appears to dream vividly but cannot recall contents of the dreams after awakening. Subject often struggles with communication. Odds of recovery: Intermediate.

Zayne ❄️

Subject ID: ZN913

Codename: Thorn

Ward: First

Sector: Six

Class: Predator

Evol: Ice

Threat Level: SSS

Temperament: Imbalanced

Character: Fractured

Disposition: Subject can remain calm in the presence of staff for a limited period of time. If welcome is overstayed, Subject begins physical assault without prior warning.

Reponse to Treatment: Subject relays feedback on his progress, showcasing cooperative behavior. Most feedback is reliable, Subject is honest when lucid.

Head Warden's Notes: ZN913 is compliant mentally but struggles controlling his body. Restraints used depending on Subject's current state. Evol is used to help ease Subject's discomfort. Subject's memory is fragmented and jumbled, but otherwise reliable. Odds of recovery: High.

Rafayel 🪸

Subject ID: RF728

Codename: Dagger

Ward: Second

Sector: Six

Class: Predator

Evol: Fire

Threat Level: SSS

Temperament: Unclear

Character: Deceptive

Disposition: Subject is capable of feigning lucidity to lure staff into a false sense of security, before Subject physically attacks.

Reponse to Treatment: Subject is uncooperative but progress can be observed through surveillance.

Head Warden's Notes: RF728 is uncooperative but showcases ability to consciously impart false statements. Restraints used as Subject is prone to escape. Evol is used to secure more cooperative behavior and accurate information. Subject's memory is better than he makes it seem. After manipulating cleaning staff, Subject has been cut off from interacting with human employees. Odds of recovery: High.

Sylus 🥀

Subject ID: SY667

Codename: Talon

Ward: Sixth

Sector: Six

Class: Predator

Evol: Energy Manipulation

Threat Level: SSS

Temperament: Chaotic

Character: Dissociative

Disposition: Extremely violent and lethal. Drastic measures have been taken to ensure security of the staff.

Reponse to Treatment: Subject frequently relapses into his fully delirious state. No linear progress has been documented.

Head Warden's Notes: SY667 lashes out verbally but is primarily compliant with instruction during routine interrogation. Restraints often placed to ensure smooth inspection of potential wounds. Evol is used frequently to help stimulate Subject's brain. Subject has severe memory loss, but is not aware of this condition. Subject must be served meals by Head Warden personally, as otherwise Subject indiscriminately attacks human and robot staff alike. Cost of damages is listed in finance report files. Odds of recovery: Low.

Caleb 🍎

Subject ID: CL204

Codename: Scythe

Ward: Fourth

Sector: Six

Class: Predator

Evol: Gravity

Threat Level: SSS

Temperament: Controlled

Character: Aggressive

Disposition: Subject is immensely hostile, assaulting staff both verbally and physically.

Reponse to Treatment: Despite receiving regular treatment for a long time, Subject's condition fails to undergo notable improvement.

Head Warden's Notes: CL204 is cooperative and obedient without use of Evol during routine interrogation. Restraint unnecessary. Reported repeated behavior of tampering with Meal-Drones. Supper is partially delivered by human staff via conveyor belt to ensure safety of employees. CL204 can partially recall his past pre-contamination, showcasing an ability to reflect on his actions. Subject relapses after long intervals, but recovers to previous state. Relapses are particularly violent, taking a great toll on Subject's mental and physical condition. Odds of recovery: Low.

[moonofmercury]

The Flamechase Journey isn't just a mission to save the world from a literal encroaching darkness. There has been a masterfully interwoven thread about the encroaching darkness being the stagnancy and clinging of those like the Okhema council or the Janusopolis head priests or the king and captains of Castrum Kremnos who would rather continue to exploit and claw at whatever little comforts they can at the expense of the lives of the people their positions would otherwise tell you it is their sworn duty to protect, serve, or offer the truth.

It begs the question, what, even at the literal end of the world with destruction and decay and a malignant mutation closing in, the counsel thinks it can gain? Petty, short-term power? Mydeimos would have us believe that Aglaea rules by charisma and force of personality, while Anaxagoras would have you consider that in fact she has a passive but very pervasive control of everything and everyone in the city, which at least is something he considers uncomfortable and disagrees with.

As someone who values free will and the value of individual life, being party to the Flamechase Journey, which is in-text stated to be uncaring of life, to be something that churns Chrysos Heirs over the course of 1000 years in its grindstone... well it is not that either Mydei or Anaxa are wrong. The 3.2 update will likely provide more context about who the developers would have us believe, but Hoyo has been remarkably good so far at allowing two ideas to sit in tension. Hopefully, that will continue, but even if not, narratively there is evidence that both men are correct (and it's notable Anaxa is said to vote against the Flamchase, not with the council).

Ultimately, there is a part of Aglaea that does what she has to out of a dark necessity, and we are on her side against the Council whatever the feelings about the Flamechase Journey. It's a sickeningly realistic exhibition of very real human behaviors in the face of uncertainty.

When the Chrysos heirs return Oronyx's coreflame, there is a civilian speaking in the background saying that the "chrysos heirs don't care about safety, only want to cause chaos". As players, we are not supposed to believe this assessment, but it shows us the opinion of what is likely to show up as a vocal portion of the population. Even if it is minority of Okhema citizens who truly hold the believe that the Chrysos Heirs are part of a selfish and pointless quest, if they are loud enough, it won't matter that it's a minority, plenty of people will join with a mob mentality. This individual is himself parroting something that was said to him by a Council member or someone relaying their words, but is really using this statement to exhibit a different and understandable sentiment - that due to witnessing the process of the Flamechse, he himself no longer feels safe.

The Council is selling a false but potent vision of safety - that Okhema was in equilibrium before the Chrysos Heirs began making visible progress on the quest which is true, that the Black Tide is advancing due to failure of the quest, also technically true, and that the Chrysos Heirs cannot actually guarantee every stone of Okhema remane safe, also true.

Humans as a collective don't tend to deal with instability well, which enables these hard truths to be peddled by the Council in a way that allows denial to lead to anger that the peaceful lie was not preserved for longer, that allows the Council to lie to the people and effectively say that if we do not deal with this problem in the only way currently known that allows humanity as a whole to win, it will allow some to live in comfort and peace for a little bit longer, which for a lot of people is plenty.

The High Priests of Janusopolis would have rather sold lies and false prophecies than dare to make the populace uncomfortable by indicating disaster could be on the horizon, all to preserve a power that would not matter any longer once the city fell and a majority of its inhabitants were dead. All to preserve a comfort, that would not be enjoyed by the majority of its people.

The King of Castrum Kremnos would have rather sacrificed hundreds of his own people of extended periods of time and tossed his own child off a cliff than face the fact that endless warfare at some point becomes cheap and pointless, death before glory indeed.

In my opinion, the narrative is framed to show the current and historical "leaders" of the Amphoreus city-states as seeking their own prestige, power over others, and ability to bully and control, over power with the people they are supposed to serve and guide.

The interesting thing is that Tribbios, who has devoted her entire life to this prophecy which she believes to be meaningful, also needs the prophecy to be meaningful (ie prophecies have as much weight as you give them) because she sees it specifically as a way to reach her vision of belonging, acceptance, love and freedom.

She speaks of "everyone" actually wanting the prophecy to succeed in their heart. In some way, this is likely true. Most people want the Black Tide to recede, and Amphoreus to flourish once again (...except those who already "flourish" because they benefit from the fear and chaos created by the Black Tide, as it means people who are not interested or necessitated into being leaders look to those who purport to be able to provide something stable in unstable times). However, the language of speaking for everyone also speaks to the Chrysos Heirs sharing some of the fatal flaws found in those of the Council, or the High Priests of old Janusopolis.

There is a memoria fragment which provides a warning which, as many of the fragments do, provides relevant background that adds depth to the narrative. "Do not give people false hope under the guise of prophecy...?" Given to one of those Janusopolis priests who "manipulate" prophecies for their own gains, this is both an example of the lengths that these leaders would go to preserve their power and keep people burying their heads, loudly declaring that everything must be fine because a prophecy said so.

It may also be a warning to us, that although this holy maiden did not have the skill, perhaps another one does.

The only difference is the intention behind the Flamechase and the Council members, who are shaping up to be part of the 3.2 antagonist forces. While Tribios' desire to fulfill the quest may be selfish in some way, I think she does have a genuine desire to give everyone in Amphoreus the possibility of pursuing something equivalent to the happiness and companionship that she longs for, which cannot happen with the Black Tide bearing down and threatening to corrupt everyone.

The Council (and other past leaders in Amphoreus) aren't wrong to question the prophecy or even allow space for legitimate concerns of citizens who do not have a clear idea of what would come instead of their everyday lives in their homelands. This fact is narratively reflected by one of the Chrysos Heirs themselves questioning the purpose of the Flamechase Journey. However, we see them essentially turning legitimate concerns into a weapon to sow fear and inaction amongst the populace. Anger at least, can feel like doing something when it feels like current action is not resolving important social issues (here THE most important that lands outside Okhema are literally being eaten up and monsters which can also eat you are similarly encroaching).

Essentially this long post is a meander through some key points from the latter half of chapter 3.1, and praise for creating a tightly woven microcosm of very real issues that arise from the necessity of a ruling body for large social groups. It is a skill to allows trait that are similar between our erstwhile heroes and villains to reflect and magnify off one another. Incidentally, this is something seen not just in much good storytelling with such dynamics, but in actual greek plays as members of the Chorus will step out to speak for groups of non-protagonist characters throughout the narrative. All in all, it's a well done examination of what powerful people might do (even if it looks bonkers ridiculous to an outsider, like truly what does that assasine-ing council-woman think is a reasonable alternative to fighting the Black Tide when everyone is running out of time? She immediately gave the energy of being upset the Flamechase was not her idea, which is and almost comical level of self absorption) but also what people who have come into power (like Tribbie) might start to do in order to make sure their long series of action have some meaningful consequence, which is sure to be another through-line as we start to investigate more into the Flame-Reaver's origins.

[skywalkerslvt]

https://www.tumblr.com/skywalkerslvt/755200840017526784/rough-ride-so-rough?source=share

ok so… this but with anakin but reader doesn’t know this time (u don’t have to rewrite that part since we can just imagine Leon as anakin anyways unless you wanna change it up for his characterization. ANYWAYS this is the part where it gets into the cnc territory 😭) so later when everyone is sleeping, anakin goes to readers tent and sleeps with them and reader allows it and anakin tries to make her cockwarm him but ends up cumming instead. Reader wakes up and punishes him 🥰

a/n: tysm for the request! i had so much fun writing this u have no idea. ngl i was very sleep deprived while writing this so plot/spelling might be a bit iffy- i plan on editing this later. but in the meantime i hope u enjoy!! (btw i tried my best to stay on course with the request but lmk if i missed anything lol)

CW: 18+ smut, CNC, somnophilia, orgasm denial, cumming in pants, dry humping, p in v, unprotected sex, mommy kink, sub anakin, 1.9k words

Anakin paced outside of your tent, the cool night air doing little to soothe the burning heat inside of him. Your soft, even breaths could be heard from outside, signalling your slumber, though Anakin already knew you were asleep. He could feel the serenity through the force, such a stark contrast to the raging turmoil currently inside of him.

This was all your fault, really. It had started earlier, while the two of you were on a mission to infiltrate the Separatist communication relay and sabotage it. It was successful and went without too much trouble. However, the journey back to base was a different story.

The Republic Gunship they were using was overcrowded with troops and equipment, leaving little room for comfort. With no other choice, you ended up sitting on Anakin's lap, your back pressed against his chest as the vehicle jolted and swayed through the turbulent atmosphere.

At first, it was just awkward. But as the minutes passed and the vibration of the engines hummed through both of you, the close proximity started to affect Anakin in ways he hadn't anticipated.

His breathing became heavier, but you remained oblivious his growing arousal pressing against you.

You were oblivious to his discomfort, focused instead on the mission and the journey back. Anakin, however, was fighting a losing battle with his desires, trying to control his reactions as you shifted slightly in his lap, your movements unintentional but torturous.

By the time you reached base, Anakin had cum in his pants, and was on the verge of losing control. While the other troopers filed out of the ship, you lingered for a moment, completely unaware of the effect you had on him. Whispering something about getting to your tent to rest, you left Anakin to deal with the aftermath of his suppressed desire.

But before you could make it to your tent, you were dragged away by General Kenobi, who insisted on a debriefing. Anakin had been left aching and desperate, his mind swirling with thoughts of what had happened and what he wanted to happen.

To top things off, Anakin had attempted to make a move on you, asking if he could sleep in your tent that night. You, of course, had agreed, but fell asleep before Anakin could even attempt suggesting the activities he had in mind. The heat of the tent mixed with his arousal was stifling, so he stepped outside of the tent to gather himself.

Now, standing outside your tent, the memory of your innocent touches and unaware proximity played on a loop in his mind. He couldn't take it anymore. He needed you.

Taking a deep breath, Anakin steeled himself and quietly slipped inside the tent. The sight of you lying peacefully on your cot made his heart clench with longing. He approached slowly, his eyes fixed on you as if you might disappear.

He stealthily slid into the cot beside you, making sure not to rouse you from your sleep. You had chosen to sleep in only an oversized shirt that night, the heat in the tent too warm for anything else. Anakin’s cock twitched at the sight of your bare legs, and he knew he wouldn't last long. Good–that was good. The less time this took, the better chance he had at not waking you up.

He pressed himself against you, clothed cock brushing against your ass as he lightly trailed his fingers along your upper thigh and under the hem of your shirt. He bit down on his lip, suppressing his whimpers as he began lightly grinding against your ass, fingers trailing higher until they found your breasts, lightly tweaking your nipples until your body responded to his touch, your nipples pebbling under his fingers. It was enough to make him grind harder, needing to feel the rough friction against his leaking cock.

Anakin felt so dirty, rubbing off on you while you were asleep, completely oblivious to how needy he was for you. But he just couldn't help himself, not when you teased him every day, leaving him stiff and wanting. Not when the sight of you alone could make him stiffen in his boxers.

Anakin, still kneading your breasts, was panting against your neck. He wanted–no, needed–to cum so bad, and his current movements against your pliant, sleeping body weren't working. He needed more.

Slowing his hips, he reached a hand between your bodies, and pulled his pants down just far enough for his cock to spring free and slap against his stomach. He positioned his flushed, leaking tip between the top of your thighs, and slowly pushed in, nearly moaning at the feeling of the plush flesh of your thighs squeezing around his cock. He was like a dog in heat, desperately fucking your thighs just to feel something–anything.

His movements only faltered once, his hips stuttering and the grip on your breasts loosening as you shifted and mumbled sleepily, but once Anakin realized you were still fast asleep, he continued.

His cock was grinding against your cunt, the thin panties being the only barrier between him and what he so badly wanted, and as your body reacted to his touch, Anakin could feel your panties dampen with every thrust.

God–it wasn't enough. Anakin needed to feel you–feel the warm, wet walls of your cunt squeezing around his cock. So he reached down and slid your panties to the side, positioning his flushed head at your entrance and pushing in.

It felt so good–too good. He stilled inside of you, panting as he reveled in the all consuming pleasure your cunt gave him. But poor Anakin was too pussy-drunk to notice your shifting, the protrusion in your cunt rousing you from your sleep.

“Oh, Anakin. I knew you were a desperate slut, but I didn't think you were this desperate.”

Anakin froze at the sound of your voice, a deer caught in headlights. He flushed from head to toe, stammering out a bunch of incoherent excuses. Not saying a word, you slipped his cock out of your cunt and moved to straddle him, pinning his hips beneath your own.

“You've been a very, very bad boy, Anakin,” you scolded as you positioned his cock at your entrance once more. “Did I tell you today that you could fuck me?”

Anakin shook his head, unable to form words at the feeling of you sinking down on his cock once more. You left a harsh slap on his cheek, then grabbed his face, urging him to meet your eyes. “Use your words.”

Anakin's breath hitched as he struggled to speak, his voice barely a whisper.

"No, you didn't," he managed to say, his eyes wide and pleading.

"That's right," you said, your voice low and dangerous. "And yet here you are, playing innocent and asking to stay in my tent, then using my body for your pleasure. You must really be desperate."

Anakin whimpered as you began to move, slowly at first, grinding down on him in a way that made his head spin. "I'm sorry," he breathed, his hands gripping your hips in a futile attempt to control the pace.

"Sorry isn't good enough," you hissed, slapping his hands away. "You need to learn your place, Anakin. You're mine to use, not the other way around."

His eyes rolled back in his head as you picked up the pace, riding him with a relentless rhythm that had him teetering on the edge of sanity. "Please," he begged, his voice breaking. "Please, can't-"

"Oh, you can," you interrupted, your voice dripping with condescension. "You're going to take everything I give you, and you're going to thank me for it."

Anakin could only nod, tears of pleasure and frustration mingling in his eyes. He was completely at your mercy, and he loved it. The way you controlled him, used him, made him feel like he was nothing more than a toy for your pleasure-it was everything he craved.

"That's right," you purred, leaning down to capture his lips in a bruising kiss. "Good boy, Anakin. Now, let me hear you say it."

He choked on a sob as he thrust up into you, his voice trembling with need. "Thank you," he gasped. "Thank you, Mommy."

You smirked, pleased with his obedience. "You're welcome," you whispered, your movements becoming more frantic as you chased your own release. Just as he was on the brink of release again, you suddenly stopped moving, lifting yourself off him and leaving him desperate and throbbing.

Anakin's eyes flew open in shock, a pitiful whine escaping his lips. "No, please," he begged, his voice breaking. "I need to cum. Please, don't stop."

You smiled cruelly, enjoying his desperation. "You think you deserve to cum after sneaking into my tent and using me? I don't think so."

His hands gripped the sheets in frustration, his body trembling. "Please, I'm sorry," he pleaded. "I’ll do anything. Just let me finish."

You leaned in close, your breath hot against his ear. "You're going to have to earn it," you whispered. "And right now, you haven't earned anything."

Anakin's body ached with need, but he knew better than to disobey you. "Yes, Mommy," he whispered, his voice trembling. "I'll be good. I'll do whatever you want."

You sat back, smirking down at him. "That's better," you said. "Now, let's see if you can behave yourself."

You moved off him completely, leaving him lying there, desperate and aching. "Get on your knees," you commanded.

Anakin scrambled to obey, positioning himself at the edge of the cot. You sat on the cot in front of him, lifting your foot to rest on his thigh.

Slowly, you began to stroke his cock with your foot, the rough feeling of your skin against his making him shiver.

He moaned, his hips bucking involuntarily. "Please," he whispered. "Please, I need to cum."

You chuckled softly, continuing your teasing strokes. "You think you can just cum whenever you want?" you asked, your tone mocking. "You're going to have to beg for it."

Anakin's cheeks flushed with embarrassment, but he did as he was told. "Please, Mommy," he begged. "Please, let me cum. I'll be good, l promise."

You stopped your movements, making him whimper in frustration. "Good boys get rewards," you said, reaching down to grab his chin, forcing him to look up at you. "Bad boys get punished. Do you understand?"

"Yes, Mommy," he whispered, his eyes filled with desperation. "I'll be good. Please, let me cum."

You released his chin, stepping back and allowing him to collapse onto the cot. "We'll see," you said, a wicked smile playing on your lips. "But for now, you're going to have to wait."

Anakin's body trembled with unfulfilled need, but he knew better than to disobey you. "Yes, Mommy," he whispered, his voice trembling. "I'll wait. I'll be good."

You smirked, pleased with his obedience. "That's better," you said. "Now, let's see how long you can last."

As the night wore on, Anakin's desperation only grew, but he knew that he had to earn his release. And as he knelt there, waiting for your permission, he couldn't help but feel a twisted sense of satisfaction. He was yours, completely and utterly, and there was nothing he wouldn't do to please you.

[butterflydm]

WoT 3x01 Deep Dive (book spoilers)

Any additional thoughts I have that delve into more spoilery territory will go here! Spoilers through A Memory of Light (final book!). Most of my thoughts are in the show-spoilers post; this is just for additional thoughts that needed more of a spoiler warning.

Okay, Sitter & Black Ajah update - of the three Red Sitters, one is definitely Black Ajah (Galina Casban), one is definitely not (Tsutama Rath), and one we don't get the name of (not in the x-ray either). 3x03 tells us that Tsutama is currently the Highest of the Red Ajah and that it used to be Elaida (I'm assuming she stepped down after she had her Foretelling because she decided going to Andor was more important but we may find out otherwise later). Other named Black Ajah Sitters in scene: Ispan (blue), Joiya (Grey), Amico (Yellow), and Alvairin (White, does not reveal herself). There is a second White/Black Ajah Sitter who is killed by Leane, so two White Sitters who were also Black Ajah.

Also Alviarin has a damn good poker face.

We get confirmation of the Heart structure of the Black Ajah in 3x03, so I think Nyomi is just one of the BA that Verin hadn't discovered yet, which is heartbreaking.

So Maksim felt the loss of Ihvon through the bond. Is this a "Green Ajah" thing or is this a special thing that Alanna has done? It feels like foreshadowing for the bond that Rand shares with Elayne, Aviendha, & Min in the books, but even more shared than theirs, even. It makes sense for the show to simply fold Avilayne's first-sister bonding into the big Rand bonding, since Avilyane don't need to go through that same emotional journey together in the show because we've established attraction between them already. So I think we'll get Alanna's forced bonding of Rand and then in a later season get the polycule bond which will tie all of them together the way that Alanna, Maksim, & Ihvon are all tied together (if we get that renewal, fingers crossed!)

I feel like the show is signaling pretty hard that Tear will be our s4 opening plot. And if s4 is also when we kick off Avirandlayne, then we can potentially do some fun romance things with them in Tear, with Elayne giving him political advice and Aviendha teaching him about the Aiel. And if Rand doesn't get a teacher this season at all, then maybe we can still get the feathers that he tries to turn into flowers, and s4 will be our Rand Learns Channeling Properly season.

Okay, so I feel like Verin is who led Lanfear to know where Moiraine and Lan would be (since I also feel like it was Tomas who knocked out Mat at the end of s2 and brought him to Lanfear). And the question of "how did the Gray Man find the kids?" might be "Mat loudly boasting about blowing the Horn of Valere" (which would make him feel even more shitty about himself in this moment).

Moggy creates a Gray Man at the end of 3x01 and sends him to find Nynaeve, which we get the payoff for in 3x03 -- targeting Nynaeve makes sense because the Forsaken already know her location due to their Black Ajah spies, and she's likely seen as more vulnerable due to her block, plus she's the group's main healer, per the information that the Black Ajah would be able to relay to the Forsaken.

We see both Elayne & Mat drinking a lot during this episode and the next - I wonder if Elayne is going to absorb a bit of Birgitte's "drinking buddies with Mat" energy from the books. I guess we will find out in the upcoming Tanchico episodes! Something that we saw in Rand during s1 was him wishing that Egwene & Mat were better friends, so I am very curious to see if we get Mat & Elayne bonding in the second half of the season.

Alviarin has been able to get quite a bit of information that she can use to help bring Siuan down -- she was present in the Hall when the attack happened (so that's not something Galina can help Elaida with) and she's here when she sees that Siuan is not able to exert any control over Egwene, who gets the Accepted ring and then immediately leaves the Tower. And because she was one of the Sitters in the Hall when the four members of the Black Ajah unmasked, Siuan also now has a level of trust with her that Siuan doesn't have towards any of the non-Sitter Sisters.

Elayne being the person who negotiates the relationship between Aviendha and Rand here feels like another nod to their future relationship -- we see her use similar tactics with both Aviendha and Rand in their respective scenes together. She tries to get them to see each other's point of view and uses physical touch to get them to really focus in on her and her point.

I will also go more in depth into the relationships here because it is pretty spoilery to talk about it too much in the show-only part of the post. They do a lot to put into place the building blocks for Rand and Elayne's future relationship, and for how Elayne will work as a balance between Rand and Aviendha (I think we also get some setup when Alanna talks in 3x02 about how Ihvon was the one who balanced herself and Maksim as the calm one to their more impulsive & heated parts of the throuple). Elayne can see Aviendha and Rand's similarities and see how that's making them bounce off each other and make their misunderstanding worse, and she actively works to try to get both of them more willing to bridge that gap.

We also have Rand blatantly wanting more of Elayne's company, even if there's no direct romance in it yet. He asks her if he's sure that he can't talk her into coming along with them and gives her a pretty wide and sincere smile, and, of course, he takes her advice!

And we see at the end of the episode that Aviendha is beginning her own slow process of re-thinking Rand when she sees him push back against Moiraine and instead decide to follow the path to what the Aiel want from him. Both Aviendha and Rand respond really well to Elayne's advice and suggestions, and she delivers that advice in way that is much better calculated to actually reach them (especially Rand) than either Moiraine or Lanfear do. The show made a very clear point of making it be Elayne who helps influence Rand's future path, not Moiraine or Lanfear.

"There is no homecoming for you. Not now, not ever."

I notice that the show is maintaining that Rand's true desire is home (which was really emphasized in the s1 finale as well). If we do get a chance to get all the way to the end, I don't think Rafe is gonna end on deadbeat!dad Rand. I think they'll show that Rand intends to go be an active father to his kids and an active partner to his lovers, because they've shown over and over that a quiet life with the ones that he loves is his heart's deepest desire (contrary to what Lanfear believes about him).

Elayne drinking it up with the boys here before she heads up to flirt and hook up with Aviendha... yeah, I am feeling a bit of Birgitte in the house tonight. Will we get more drinking buddies Matlayne in the back half of the season, I ask again? I do like that the show is layering in Elayne spending a bit of time bonding with Mat & Perrin as friends before she goes up to hang out with Aviendha. Very Spice Girls - "If you wanna be my lover, you gotta get with my friends."

I do still feel like Elayne's "finally" is way more directed towards Avilayne book fans than it is towards Aviendha herself, lol.

Elayne being the person who healed Rand's dagger wound is the gift that keeps on giving when it comes to narrative implications -- Elayne was able to heal Rand enough that he could fight against Ishamael, while Egwene's touch is hurting Rand, despite neither of them wanting it to hurt (which is an echo of Rand and Egwene both worrying that the time will come when Rand hurts her unintentionally).

I am really curious how the show is going to take Egwene from being so incredibly determined to stick things out with Rand and protect him no matter what to breaking up with him. The indicators in the show imply that Avirandlayne is definitely in the cards, at the very least (indicators are weaker on Min at this point), which means that Randgwene do need to actually break up at some point. My own hopes are currently for a breakup in 3x05 so that they have some time to move on from their relationship on screen rather than it being relegated to a time-skip between seasons, but we'll see.

The creation of Jaichaim the Gray Man continues our trend of slowly whittling away at all things Ebou Dar, which I have been watching in fascination and not some small measure of hope. Let's count down the Ebou Dari things that have been taken away:

Renna: killed by Egwene

Seta: killed by a stray arrow

Suroth: blew up by Moiraine

Aviendha teaches Elayne about Aiel culture: learned it on the boat trip

Jaichaim the Darkfriend Whitecloak: turned into a Gray Man and killed

Intriguing! I will keep my eye on further developments.

[niqhtlord01]

Humans are weird: Not one step back

( Please come see me on my new patreon and support me for early access to stories and personal story requests :D https://www.patreon.com/NiqhtLord Every bit helps)

“Sire, the entire front is collapsing.”

“Do you think me an imbecile?”

General Mi’v swatted the report out of his subordinate’s hands drawing the attention of senior staff as it clattered to the floor. Mi’v waved a hand across the holographic table while glaring down the current target of his discord.

“Do you think I am incapable of reading a map?!”

The hologram projected was of the planet’s surface below and it was not painting a pretty picture. The entire frontline was being pushed back across several dozen kilometers. In some places entire coalition regiments had been encircled and wiped out before they even knew what hit them.

“Why did intelligence not-“, one of his aides began to voice before Mi’v held up a hand to forestall them.

“This is not the time for such questions,” He spoke softly as he eyed the nervous looking intelligence officers, “but I assure you that there will be a reckoning once this is over.”

While the intelligence corp began to make themselves busy the general got to work salvaging what was the verge of a complete rout.

“Have the 33rd and 42nd corps redeploy to the 16th artillery core and begin reinforcing the positions. Order the 16th to begin bombarding their positions once they have confirmed to evacuated them to buy us some time.”

He directed his attention to the northern front. “Send in the armored 10th to cover the retreat of the 89th. They won’t be able to deal much damage but the enemy may think it’s a coordinated counterattack and divert forces to meet them.”

Several aides nodded and began relaying the orders with great haste as the general continued to issue a rapid succession of orders. Slowly but surely the chaotic retreat reformed itself into a coordinated withdrawal.

It was while he took in the southern front that something perplexed him.

“What is that?”

The general pointed to an isolated blob of green friendly territory in an ever growing sea of red hostile advances. It was still where the frontline had been several hours earlier, but unlike the other positions the enemy had not overrun them. Instead they had opted instead to bypass the emplacement entirely without any apparent attempts to remove them.

One of his aides scrolled down on their data pad and pulled up the relevant information. “That sector is under the command of the human contingent; a one Colonel Finn Rosek of the 199th.”

“Do we still have communication with them?” Mi’v asked. One of the radio operators leaned in over their headset, fiddling with the controls, before looking back and nodding at the general.

“I have the colonel for you now sire.”

“This is General Mi’v, what is your status?” the general spoke with authority.

“What’s your authorization code?”

The response was crisp and somewhat startling as several aides and officers watched the general’s face turn a shade of purple from embarrassment.

“I am the commanding general of the Coalition war effort!” Mi’v stated forcefully, barely containing his anger. “I do not need authorization codes.”

“You say that,” the human replied crisply once more, “but how do I know you’re not some Glek’n saying they’re the general?”

The shade of purple turned to a deep black as the general’s anger now was on full display.

“Do you have any idea who you speak so flippantly to!?!”

There was a long pause as the room thought the human had finally realized the serious of the situation. Their next reply showed they had clearly not.

“Someone claiming to be a general at the moment.”

“I AM THE GENERAL!” Mi’v roared into the transmitter.

“Then provide us with the proper codes or get off this frequency.” The human replied dryly. “This line is reserved for military communications only and if you continue to clog it I will need to file a report with your superior officer.”

Mi’v threw up his hands in frustration as all he could muster from his mouth were half swears and curses upon fools.  He snapped his fingers at the nearest radio operator who had been listening with well hidden amusement. They swiftly entered a series of keys on their keyboard which then lit up green.

“Transmitting codes.” Mi’v spoke through clenched teeth.

The console chirped several times as the codes were transmitted as the general paced back and forth along the edge of the projection.

“Codes received.” The human replied dryly. “What can I do for you general?”

“Get me Colonel Finn Rosek at once; then give me your name and rank.”

Another long pause as they gathered officers heard what sounded like the human speaking to someone else before returning to the transmission.

“I’m afraid I can’t do that general.” The human continued unenthusiastic. “The Colonel is not here at the moment.”

“Where are they!?” Mi’v shouted; his temper finally long since crossed.

“He went to speak with you at your headquarters over recent failed deliveries of rations; by last account he should still be at your headquarters.”

Mi’v’s head shot up and he took a look around the headquarters. From the corner of his eye he did indeed see a human Colonel step forward and offer a crisp salute.

“If you need anything else please feel free to reach us at 1-800-IDNT-C—“

The link went dead as Mi’v turned his attention to the Colonel who had just inadvertently made a mockery of him in front of his own command staff.

[princessbrunette]

puppy!reader getting too excited and peeing a lil over something and jj is like… get it together pook

౨ৎ

this is killing me because like…. its not even the first time. she just has a weak bladder truly, sometimes jj is convinced she’s a little old lady. (i stg i write the weirdest shit but idc it’s fun)

standing with pope and jj outside the chateau as the boys relay the story to you.

“and… there it was. right infront of us. the gold. we freaking got it, the gold is ours. it’s currently with john b.” pope rambles gleefully, knowing how long the group of you had been searching for it. you squeal, and jj adds fuel to the fire.

“we’re rich, baby!”

it’s then you lose control, just a tad— quickly squatting to the floor with a gasp, hand subtly clutching between your legs. “oh gosh.” you mewl and jj presses his lips together.

“uh, she good?” pope tilts his head and jj itches behind his ear, so used to your shenanigans.

“yeah, yeah — go ahead n’wait in the twinkie for us real quick. gotta talk to ‘er.”

pope trots off, and jj squats to your level, blinking at you. “you pee?”

“a little.” you’re frozen, like you’re scared more will come out.

“how much?” he interrogates, eyes flickering to your hand where you’re assumably trying to hold it in.

“just a tiny bit. i got too excited.” you whisper and he nods.

“alright, c’mon.” he helps you up from your panic-squat slowly. “get it together, bae. damn.” he shakes his head before leading you by the hand inside to take you to the toilet before you leave.

౨ৎ

[ghostof-awriter]

Thinking about an AFTG Track Au for some inexplicable reason and here's the conclusion I've come to (currently). This is based on my ten or so years doing track & field.

Neil: The most obvious, he would do long distance. According to current NCAA guidelines, he would be seated for the 10000m, 5000m, and the 3000m. Neil would also probably ask to do a 1500 (as if he wasn't already a freak) but would be rejected by Wymack.

Andrew + Aaron: Throwers. I imagine them both on the stockier side, which is a build meant for throwers and height isn't required (height and weight aren't much of a factor, it's all a matter of controlling your body and putting enough force behind it all–coming from a 5'2 ex-thrower). They would do discus, shot put, and the hammer, although I could see Aaron swapping shot for javelin.

Nicky: 110 hurdles, javelin, and long jump. He doesn't seem like the type to just stick to one event type but with these his height and (what I imagine to be) a slightly more lean build would help him. Neil + Kevin would tell him he would be a great distance runner, but he would always complain immediately or make an excuse to not do anything beyond an 800 outside of practices.

Kevin: Middle distance. I think that he would be in a situation where as a Raven he would have been pushed to do sprints, since that's what gets all the glory in the mainstream, but he would feel more comfortable in-between. He could do the 200, 400, and 800 or the 400, 800, and 1500. If in this AU he also becomes temporarily disabled and can't run, I could see him doing what I did and become a weaker thrower for a while.

(I could also see the argument of him being a decathlete, taking all of his skills and being able to do a little bit of everything).

Renee, Allison, and Dan: Middle distance, same as Kevin. However, if there was a fourth person, they would be a fantastic relay team for the 400/1600. If I were to separate them more, I think Renee would be a thrower like Andrew, just as she is a goalie. She would be a little more of a surprise, compared to the bulk of the Twinyards, but it adds to her sense of "hiding something" that Neil feels (in this case, that would be "not looking like a thrower."). Dan would jump like Matt, because, and Allison would probably do the 100, 200, and high jump. She's would absolutely have that sprinter glam and would tie her hair up in the perfect way every single time.

Matt: I think he would be a great jumper. I considered putting him with sprints and while he could do it, I think his power would be in using his legs as a launching point. High jump, long jump, and triple jump would be his trio, although dipping into a 100m or a pole vault could easily be in the cards for him.

Seth: He would be the true sprinter of the group. I think he has the attitude for it and believes that sprinting is the true strength of track and field, so he would do the 100, 200, and 400 at max. He prefers to stick with the 100/200 though. (it's hard talking about this without sounding like I have a bias around sprinters, but in my experience sprinters, distance runners, jumpers, and throwers all have different attitudes. Sprinters can especially be a little more showy because they're afforded the time to be and know that sprinting is significantly more entertaining to watch compared to the monotony of distance).

I feel like Wymack would be very multidisciplinary for all the Foxes, just as he is for exy. Practices would likely be broken into sections, where there's the throwers, the jumpers, and the runners, with a section of each practice being focused on group exercises (be it at the gym, through endurance runs, group sprints, etc). Most could be independent with a group leader where Wymack would choose a different group to focus on every day.

[jienem]

𝔗𝔥𝔢 𝔖𝔩𝔢𝔢𝔭𝔦𝔫𝔤 𝕮𝖚𝖗𝖘𝖊

Sypnosis: The reader didn't know what caused them to fall asleep thus Vil planned to help them.

Warning: the reader is not Yuu but a dorm member of Pomefiore.

Your body feels heavy. Despite your best efforts at keeping awake, you felt your head betraying you in favor of sleepiness that started to creep in. You always rested enough to function for the day, but for the past few weeks, you started to fall asleep without meaning to. You visited a doctor for your strange occurrence, yet their answer was nothing, nothing too concerning. You tried other clinics, but they said the same. Just rest a lot more but you knew it wasn't simple. You thought your situation was a fragment of your imagination but your current predicament says otherwise.

You avoided some students nearby and waited for them to leave, then allowed your sluggish figure to slump on the ground as you laid your back on the wall. You inhaled some air, feeling your consciousness slip away. You were exhausted already, despite the sky's indication for today. You weren't too keen on your housewarden's scolding if he learned you missed an hour of class or two. But you couldn't move a muscle.

No doubt, if someone saw you, they would tell the housekeeper about you slacking off from class. It wasn't rare for someone to be caught doing such a thing, but you don't want a record for bad behavior during your time at NRC. You survived for the last two years; your third year wouldn't be any different.

But as you tried to stand up, you couldn't maintain your balance for a second before you fell again and couldn't get up without getting dizzy. With your current situation, going to the classroom would be out of the question. You would be dozing off for the rest of the lesson, and having your vice-housewarden as your classmate would no doubt relay the information to the housewarden. On the other hand, the mirror towards the dorm would be one of your options, but the risk of someone noticing you would be higher. The better option would be the infirmary. Crewel-sensei must know something about your predicament, but the thought of him dismissing your illness as fatigue would probably trouble you more.

You were totally lost as to what to do.

Still, asking him would still be the best, and you couldn't know until you tried. With that in mind, you tried to stay awake and lay your hand on the wall for support. But just after a few steps, you felt a presence behind you, looming over your figure. You turn around and gasp as you notice your housewarden's frowning gaze upon you. He was wearing the Pomefiore dorm uniform, indicating he had just come from the meeting. He wasn't using his usual hairstyle in favor of tying it behind his back. His light blonde hair glistened under the sun's brightness from the window, enhancing his beauty, but the sight of him makes you panic.

"Why aren't you back at your class? The bell rang a few minutes ago."

You were quiet as he waited for your answer. But as you just tried to explain, your head feels lighter, and you can't control your sleepiness anymore. The last thing you remember is the way his eyes widened before calling out your name.

.

.

.

Sometime later, you wake up in the infirmary. The ceiling greeted your vision as you tried to flutter your droopy eyes. You notice the sun's brightness has turned orange, indicating you have been asleep for a long time. You weren't surprised by how it turned out.

You glance around for any signs of your housewarden, but it seems he has already left. Though You weren't sure if you were off the hook or if sometime later there would be punishment waiting for you, You just hoped it would be the latter.

"What is this, falling asleep in the middle of the day? Didn't I remind you to sleep early at night?" Crewel asked as he noticed you were awake. You sit up from the bed, and frankly enough, you are still sleepy. Crewel noticed you were still unresponsive and gave you a bottle of liquid. You held the bottle up in your face as you stared. Curious.

"That potion was supposed to help you stay awake for a few hours," he replied as he noticed your confusion. You nodded your head, but the thought made you frown. You tried one of these after a few days of your supposed illness and even tried to make one that could help, yet none of them worked. But the scent rolling from the inside was much stronger than the one you drank before; maybe it will work?

You drank most of the liquid, yet you feel disappointed. The potion effect still didn't work the way you wished. Even if it wasn't, you were grateful to Crewel-sensei for giving you the potion. Drinking the remnants from the bottle, you didn't notice another person enter the infirmary until they were near enough.

"Oh my, Mademoiselle Little Flower! How are you? Did you sleep well? Does your curse happen a lot?-" His voice surprised you while Crewel left for his class in the afternoon.

Your vice-housewarden, Rook Hunt, started to ask you many questions, but you got lost in the middle. Dumbfounded. You wondered why he was here instead of waiting for you back at the dorm. Was it Vil who requested your presence as soon as possible? Wait, he did mention something about a curse.

"Forgive me for cutting off your questions, Vice-Housewarden, but ah, you mention a curse?" You frowned. You didn't have time to ponder more when he nodded his head as if it answered everything.

"Oui, Mademoiselle! Your condition was living proof of that. Come,  let's go back to the dorm. Roi de Poison would explain more about your condition."

He didn't indulge you with more information and waited for you to stand up on your own. Instead of asking more questions, you stayed silent as you followed him away from the infirmary. You sometimes notice how he glances at your figure as you walk, keeping an eye out for you if you suddenly stumble without notice. You were grateful yet at the same time annoyed by how you felt as if someone had to help you with the most simple task, such as walking.

"Am I in trouble for not attending class earlier?" You asked after silence passed between the two of you. He laughs, and you realize your question sounds as if a child would get scolded by a parent. You flush in embarrassment. Thankfully, he took mercy on you, even just for a second, as he answered, still shaken from laughter.

"Not at all Mademoiselle little Flower. Though I must admit, you've frightened our Roi de Poison by passing out in his lovely arms. He just wish you should have said something about your condition earlier so he wouldn't be worried." Somehow, imagining Vil-san's worried expression about your passed out body was embarrassing. Out of all people, it had to be your strict housewarden to witness your devastating and unflattering moment.

You didn't speak a lot, but Rook didn't seem to mind your silence as he was busy praising Vil-san's beauty. Though you made some comments here and there, you chuckled a lot more when he exaggerated Vil-san's inspiring speeches.

Once back at the dorm, you notice your housewarden in the lounge, who is still wearing the clothes he was wearing earlier while talking to another student. The student carries two different shades of fabric as Vil scrutinizes each of them. He motioned his hand over the other one, complimenting the shade, before the other person nodded. Rook greeted Vil gleefully as he dismissed the other student. Vil turned to Rook, acknowledging him before he gazed upon your form. His eyes analyzed you as you mumbled your apology.

"Housewarden, I sincerely apologize for passing out on you earlier." You bowed, your hair covering the side of your face. His heeled boots appeared in your vision before his fingers held your chin up to look at him.

"Nothing to apologize for, my dear. Tell me, how are you?" You composed yourself under his gaze and let your hands fall to your sides. "I'm fine Housewarden."

He nodded and turn you side by side. You stayed still under his gaze as he ponder. "You can call me Vil. Tell me, when did your curse appeared?"

"A few weeks ago, around the time when we had a small celebration with our dorm." you answered truthfully, watching how their eyes frowned. Vil seems more conserved, while Rook seems thoughtful. You wanted to dismiss their concerns, but if you mentioned it to them, they would absolutely disagree.

"How many times does your curse become active for a day?" You paused, still a bit surprised at the term of the curse upon you. Back to the question: it was very complicated, to say the least. Sometimes it was different; rather than falling asleep, you would often feel lightheaded for the rest of the day, so you didn't know if your curse was active or not. You zoned out for a while, and Vil hit your head lightly to get your attention.

"How rude of you to zone out when we are talking." he scolded.

"My apologies, Vil-san. It's just, it's complicated. There were often times I fell asleep twice a day and it only lasted for twenty minutes; on the other hand, there wasn't at all, but rather I felt lightheaded for the rest of the day." You pursed your lips before continuing. "But these days, it's gotten worse. I tried to brew one that could help my cond-ah curse, but it wasn't strong enough." Your voice was silent on the end. There was silence until Vil folded his arm and said,

"Well, what do you think, Rook? Do you know something?" Vil turned to his second-command, and you did too. The two of you waited for his reply, but the hunter shrugged his shoulders, holding his hands in the air.

"Non non, at all."

Vil sighed at his second-command's lack of insight before turning to you once more. "Did you receive some gifts of some kind from anyone?"

"Not that I'm aware of, no."

Vil nodded, and you felt useless for not thinking too much. Rook clapped his hand, earning both of your attention, and Vil looked at him expectantly. Rook had his signature grin on his face as he pulled the two of you into his arms. You chuckle lightly while Vil looks dissatisfied. His uniform was getting wrinkled.

"My apologies, Roi de Poison, but let's enjoy this day before we think of a solution to Mademoiselle little Flower here, hm? What do you say, Roi de Poison?"

Vil was a little peeved by Rook's antics before nodding his approval. "Y/N, I'll personally talk to the teachers about your condition. I will let you know the details and what plans we were about to make tomorrow morning. Do you understand?"

"Vil-"

"Do you understand?"

You reluctantly nodded, and Rook instantly let go of the both of you, still grinning while Vil patted some wrinkles on his clothes. You bowed deeply to your Housewarden and vice with gratitude.

"Thank you so much for looking out for my wellbeing, Vil-san and Rook-san. I promise I will do my best despite my unfortunate circumstances; please bear with my presence for a while." You lifted your head only to see Rook wiping the tears from his eyes while Vil frowned at his behavior.

"Such a wonderful speech! Y/N-san. The curse you alone must face, the pain and sorrows you must endure, I truly hope you reach your happy ending, Mademoiselle little flower. Beauté, Marvelous!"

You chuckled uncertainly before turning to Vil with a smile. "If you excuse me, Housewarden, you bowed once more while Vil nodded. "Of course you must be exhausted, do you not? Rest; your complexion wouldn't do you any favors if you stayed up late." Somehow you had a feeling that not even a few minutes after you had gone into your bedroom, you'd fall asleep on the ground. Thankfully, your roommate was away for a while.

You smiled one last time before you left, leaving the two of them in the lounge. Rook glanced at his housewarden with a knowing look in his eyes. "So what do you think, Vil?" He put his hand on his waist while watching the said person feign ignorance.

"I suspect something, but it was too early to tell. I suggest we monitor her for now; I'll be leaving now." Vil dismissed himself. His heels clanged on the ground before fading, leaving the vice-housewarden in his record.

"I do wonder."

Taglist:

@worldussysblog @daruderuyoo @growingupnrealizing @fluffle-bean @lucid-stories @ykiqlvr @savanaclaw1996 @hachiko-ko @luciel1 @yo4sblog @rosedasy

[jbk405]

I very much enjoy Mass Effect 3, but there's no denying that it plays pretty fast and loose with the worldbuilding and continuity established in the first two games in order to set up its main plot.

The idea of a Lost Superweapon that is passed down from cycle to cycle is in direct contradiction to the original establishment that there is almost no information passed between the cycles. In the first game Liara is an archaeologist who hasn't even heard of the Reapers despite 50 years of study. Not even as a conspiracy theory that she has dismissed due to lack of evidence. The complete lack of surviving knowledge from the preceding cycle is its own clue that Something Else Is Going On. The idea that the Mars Archives include detailed data on how to build the Crucible makes no sense if nobody else in the galaxy even found a single scribbled note "Giant machines from before time killed us!"

Plus the Reaper invasion during the Prothean cycle started at the Citadel, as it did in all prior cycles, which cut off all communication and contact between different sections of the Prothean empire through control of the Mass Relays. Each small section could only communicate and travel to areas within normal FTL range. The idea that Protheans in the Local Cluster (Earth), the Exodus Cluster (Eden Prime), and the Athena Nebula (Thessia) could all have current information and data about the project is laughable.

The original message in the beacon on Eden Prime that we discover in the first game was sent by the Protheans from Ilos after the Reapers had completed their harvest of the Prothean civilization, reactivated the Mass Relays, and returned to dark space. It was a last-ditch effort to contact somebody -- anybody -- who had survived the slaughter, and was sent out when there were no Reapers still here to interfere. There was no active galaxy-wide Prothean defense or plan during the war itself.

What I think they should have done in ME3 was excise the idea of the Crucible as a Pre-Prothean device completely, and had it be a modern-day invention.

Based on recent breakthroughs in dark energy research, the Citadel Council has already begun work on a theoretical dark energy manipulator. It's intended for...I dunno, faster FTL travel through areas that don't have Mass Relays. Whatever. But it works with fundamental energy sources, and at previously-unheard-of power levels. Since the writers decided to ignore the dark energy foreshadowing from ME2 as the source of the Reaper cycles, they could use it for this.

Once the the Reapers invade at the start of ME3, the Council desperately tries to turn any science research already underway into a new weapon against the Reapers. This dark energy device is just one of a dozen projects all running concurrently, since they don't know what's going to work.

Our initial missions are running around trying to get them all up and running, gathering resources and defending against sabotage. One by one the other projects are either destroyed by the Reapers (or maybe Cerberus), or are abandoned by the Council once it's obvious that it won't be effective. The situation gets more and more desperate as the options dwindle.

Eventually, the idea comes to hook up this dark energy device to the Citadel, since we know that it is the control system for the Mass Relay network. And this device, which at full power may be enough to destroy a Reaper, now has the magical ability to deliver that energy across the whole galaxy at once.

"But if it is so easy that we can think it up, why wouldn't any previous cycle have managed to defeat the Reapers on their own?"

We have the advantage of the warnings from the original beacon on Eden Prime, and the delay to the start of the invasion courtesy of the Protheans from Ilos. The simple fact that we have any knowledge of the Reapers is more than the preceding cycles ever had. The Reapers were also prevented from decapitating the galactic civilization all at once by invading the Citadel first. Starting at the edge of the galaxy and spreading out from there gives us time, and prevents them from locking down the Mass Relays to isolate every different cluster.

This can still be credited as a Pan-Cycle victory, since without the extra time and advantages we got from the Protheans we would have died like all preceding cycles. But it doesn't magically give us a ready-made solution in defiance of all previous games.

[n7punk]

“In The Great Beyond” Fic Notes: ME1/2

I thought it could never be done, but ITGB is finally going to be done tomorrow! These fic notes are kind of spotty between chapters, but be thankful honestly because for a 28 chapter fic they’re still 10k even with many chapters having no notes. They’re long enough I’m going to split them into two parts: ME1/2 & ME3. This is ME1/2. This one also includes the playlist, while ME3 includes the Original Draft and Epilogue Life. ME3 will go up tomorrow, after Chapter 28 is posted.

Playlist:

I didn’t start compiling a playlist until I was already on ME2 because I intended for this to just be a short fic and was using my generic sci-fi playlist, so when I did make it, it was mostly aimed at ME3 (my intended target for the entire fic) and a bit of ME2.

Downhill — Pom Pom Squad

Reaper — RIELL

World Eater — Ashnikko

Swallow — Harper

PREDATOR — YONAKA

Wildfire — Against the Current

Trust Me — Lola Blanc

ALL THESE KIDS — Emei

Motorbike — Poppy

Crime Scene — Night Club

Oblivion For Two — Mothica

Problems — Hey Violet

10:35 — Tate McRae & Tiesto

Miss possessive — Tate McRae

UH HEY — Sizzy Rocket

IDCIDCIDCIDC — Sizzy Rocket

The Good, The Bad, And The Dirty — Panic! At The Disco (I feel like I have to specific this is about the war and not Catradora lol)

Fighter — The Tech Thieves

Legends Never Dies — Against The Current

Hard To Kill (Danny Rich Remix) — Beth Crowley 

Chapter 1:

⦁ Catra of course isn’t the only magicat on all of Earth, but she was guaranteed to be the only one on her street, in her class, in her bootcamp, etc, so why would it matter that there are few others out there?

⦁ The universal translator is just an accepted conceit of this world that works perfectly and instantly translates everything someone hears. Every race is speaking their own language and it’s fine. It is actually visual too I only made it not to bring up the implants that enable non-seraphi to control their biotics lmao.

⦁ A note on my authors note here: see how I very carefully said of the mass effect relays “They were left behind by an extinct galactic empire, same as the Citadel space station.” Implying it’s the First Ones, but actually just saying the same people built the relays and the Citadel.

Chapter 3:

⦁ The “Class” chapter title is pulling triple duty here: Catra’s overall social class as an Earth orphan (especially compared to Glimmer’s), Catra’s rank in the Hierarchy, and Adora’s literal “in-game” class as a biotic (for those unfamiliar with Mass Effect, the different ability types you can select are called a Class in-game)

⦁ Flux might actually be my favorite of the in-game bars across the games even though there’s not much to do there, just aesthetically. I like windows.

⦁ The stars/crickets thing is from a youtube comment on a video of crickets singing where a mom said this is what her son thought stars sounded like.

⦁ Okay so in retrospect, girls don’t respond to Catra’s flirting better when she can make bedroom eyes at them, it’s that her eyes are basically a power symbol and considered extremely attractive. People don’t outright assume she’s part of the royal family, but there’s the nagging thought in the back of their head that certainly spurs on golddiggers and people in general to cater more to her, and even if she isn’t associated it’s just considered an attractive feature in general.

⦁ “Adora tends to find her on the periphery of the larger rooms” she’s spending time with you in a deniable way dumbass.

⦁ This chapter actually got written during the (final) Chapter 6 because as I said: I couldn’t stop coming up with more ideas so I circled back around.

Chapter 4:

⦁ Tbqh I forgot that the Normandy SR1 did have a private captain’s cabin because it was very different from the one on V2, but I decided to keep it like this even after I realized because I wanted to do this scene and I thought it was more interesting if Catra’s apartment was the only private housing Adora had experienced for later.

⦁ Catra wants to stay in her apartment that night because she’s being painfully reminded of the fact she doesn’t know she can trust the Alliance — on the other hand, she continues to work with them because she doesn’t want to leave Adora vulnerable either.

⦁ The human biotics study mentioned here involved testing of what would eventually become Adora’s L5x.

⦁ The funniest shit the ME devs every did was the shifty-looking cow. Why did they do that. They didn’t have to. It was probably a significant amount of work for them to code that, for an easter egg I bet less than .5% of the player base has even noticed they’re experiencing. I never noticed it until I saw it on the wiki and looked for it!

Chapter 5:

⦁ Catra was not deep asleep, she was purring for Adora to help her sleep.

⦁ I decided who could and couldn’t be biotic based on two things: physical limitations, in-game rarity, and logic. Twiggets can’t be biotic because they’re literally an entire different cell system from the building blocks of life. Scorpioni can’t be biotic because their healing factor/immune system is so good it clears out the contamination if it’s at any level less than lethal — this high healing rate is designed as an equivalency to the wild way krogans are set up biologically with redundant organs and such since, being the same body blueprint as humans, scorpioni don’t really have anywhere to be storing a fat hump to last them months. Turian biotics are so rare I think there’s literally only two in the whole series? And to my knowledge there’s no explanation for why that is, so magicats have the opposite problem from krogan, they have extremely low eezo tolerance and it acts cancerous within their bodies because it’s so easy for it to spread. This also served the purpose of enabling Catra’s biotic storyline, but it started from the turian base point.

⦁ Catra should have accepted the extra hand steadying Adora, but she did not want Glimmer touching her anymore.

⦁ The games before the final battle: sex scene. Catradora before the final battle: fine I guess we can have one (1) emotional conversation that acknowledges we don’t hate each other.

⦁ I find their will-they won’t-they in this fic hilarious because in the world of Mass Effect, it’s perfectly normal to only be attracted to certain species, with the most common being just your own, of course. And that makes sense, you’ve evolved for thousands of years to find your species attractive, but of course there are alienfuckers even now, the more people are born/socialized around other species the more likely they are to find them attractive, and a lot of the species for this fic look similar on the surface level (versus ME where almost all the species are rather different in appearance) so there’s a lot more people attracted to a wider range. Adora, having no increased senses aside from Dumbass Intuition™️, has convinced herself that Catra is not attracted to humans. No tails, no fur, no cute little ears to pull :( And of course she’s convinced of this because she has never seen Catra express interest in anyone (else) — until she does and it’s only magicats — and she thinks Catra 100% knows about her feelings so she would have at least responded more positively to Adora’s flirting by now. If she doesn’t like it just because she isn’t “capable” of liking it but she finds Adora just fine, it explains her neutrality to Adora’s flirting with some occasional goading. Catra thinks Adora might have a magicat fetish and doesn’t actually love her because she never makes a move — the things Adora classifies as moves are laughable — so while she is aware Adora is attracted to her, she has decided that’s all she is and she refuses to reclassify any of her evidence, so when she does occasionally think Adora is flirting with genuine intent, she gets flustered, which Adora interprets as her shutting her down. Catra only really flirts with other magicats because she isn’t invested at all and any human she’ll feel like she’s settling for Adora with. Magicats have emotional distance while also being most likely to accept her advances.

⦁ Honestly I think I forgot how quickly they learn that Sovereign is a Reaper in the game but whatever, it wicked doesn’t matter, one line of exposition and they’re fighting Reapers now lol

Chapter 6:

⦁ Forgotten Ones is a Dragon Age reference — and probably the antagonists in the next game tbh.

⦁ Catra was actually in the car but she was in a cradle with a gravity regulator that successfully cushioned and saved her (same tech used to keep Adora's figurines from tipping over).

⦁ Catra’s starting rank in the Primavera line is because Cassandra Pentaghast in DA:I is the seventy-eighth in line of the Nevarran throne, another one of Meta’s suggestions that was too funny to ignore.

Chapter 7:

⦁ A couple chapters into ME2, I saw the fic description and realized it really only applied to ME1, so I decided to use chapter summaries (a rare thing for me) just to intro the different games on their starting chapters and went back to add ME2’s retroactively, but at the same time I wrote Mass Effect 3’s summary because I knew Exactly where I was going with it.

⦁ OK so Adora is a Vanguard in ME1 but as of ME2 her powers have been amplified to the point she’s an Adept.

⦁ I don’t remember if it’s actually canon that Shepard’s implant gets upgraded when they die or my headcanon? I ran into that a lot when writing this, because even not finding it on my last playthrough doesn’t mean anything because I could have just missed it with all the side conversations and missions, or straight up forgotten. Anyway, my philosophy with all that was to use my headcanon regardless.

⦁ This mission I think shows my philosophy around the game’s plot. I included this mission because 1) the game did nail it being a good introduction to the time skip/plot and 2) I needed to. Yknow. Include the fact Adora died since it ends up becoming such a big part of the plot. Summarizing this mission off-screen would have been messy. When I wrote it, however, I changed stuff around and streamlined it. There’s no Wilson in this one, they never find out who exactly hacked the bots because they die to them before they can reach the security office. Also 3) I love angst. Of course, in ME3 it will become the (correct) theory that a rival Eternia cell decided to sabotage Adora’s resurrection because they wanted a puppet rather than a pro-alien hero, and this traitor was essentially Brooks, they just never figure out who it was.

⦁ Shadow Weaver is so pushy with Adora here because she knows confrontation is a big motivator for her from reading her file.

⦁ Okay so Bow and Entrapta “working” of Eternia. For Bow, he’s standing in for Jacob, because I didn’t really see the need to have another Jacob stand-in, so Bow just ends up filling the role of “(ex-)Alliance soldier man” in every game even if those canonically go from Kaidan, to Jacob, back to Kaidan. However, he’s primarily here to be Adora’s tether and to assure her that no, she’s not a clone, he fucking knows. He never technically worked for Eternia, isn’t on their payroll, and has never been anywhere but the station they rebuilt her on. Living at that station, all his needs were provided for, but legally he just dropped off the map for two years and is officially MIA, quietly presumed abducted or assassinated within the Alliance, either by the geth or the Shadow Broker since it’s known they were expressing interest in Adora and her team. For Entrapta, she’s filling in for Joker (and later Mordin, but-) and she’s obviously the intended final pilot of the Normandy. I genuinely don’t remember if Joker joining Eternia was justified. Like, he said he signed up because the Alliance grounded him, but why tf did they do that when he was like, their most talented pilot, and why did he think signing on to a terrorist was a good idea unless he knew they had Shepard’s body the whole time and was hoping to keep an eye on her from afar like I have Bow doing. IDK maybe he does explain it in convo and I don’t remember it, but REGARDLESS- For Entrapta, she’s the one who discovered Eternia’s plan in the first place through hacking, and she agreed with the plan her, Bow, and Glimmer formed for Bow to stay with Adora. Unlike Joker, it took a bit more convincing to recruit her due to the, y’know, alien thing, but she could actually be of use with building the ship, so she knew about it right away. She never flew any missions for them. She instead spent the last two years helping design, build, and test the Normandy SR2 and Darla. At some point she kind of forgot who she was working for, honestly, Shadow Weaver was really careful with who she let work with/on Adora and Entrapta to help them have as positive of an image of Eternia as possible because she was hoping to recruit Adora even beyond this mission once it was done, even if she doesn’t like aliens herself.

⦁ Entrapta says “half” of Adora’s friends were missing because Catra and Glimmer were legit gone to a concerning degree, and Perfuma was an unknown even if that wasn’t a cause for concern given they knew she went back to the Migrant Fleel. The only ones that were 100% nailed down were Bow and Entrapta (obviously) and Scorpia (they have a few informants on Tuchanka that are willing to spy for a fee even if it’s for Eternia)

⦁ I had a lot of fun “re-using” certain chapter titles so they iterated across games, “Cross-species Collaboration” and “Eternia” being the only ones that are used in all 3 but ones like “Class”, “the Citadel”, “Omega”, and “Reapers” being used for two games.

Chapter 8:

⦁ Collecting some Horde/Collector tech on Omega was my sub for the mission recruiting Mordin since, y’know, s/he’s already flying the ship lol.

⦁ “Project Skyllian” is a reference to the Skyllian Blitz (in-game) and was a policy retaliation for the attack on the human colony (in-fic).

⦁ Mara starts off defending Eternia here because it’s how she internally deals with working for an organization she knows is deeply bad but feels trapped in.

⦁ Despite getting to know her as well as possible without being able to talk to her, Mara “expected” Adora to be more eloquent due to somewhat mythologizing her the longer that the project went on.

⦁ The SR2 during the Cerberus era in the games only had a single pilot seat since EDI was supposed to take over the functions of a second, but that’s kinda stupid and they then had to put in a second chair for her platform in the third game, so I just included it from the start.

⦁ Okay Archangel is a weird name for Garrus to take right? Like that’s not just me. The only way it makes sense to me is if he and Ashley got to talking about religion down in the vehicle bay back on the SR1 and it stuck with him, and then he used a “human” name to honor Shepard during ME2, though it could have also offered good cover. And sure it could just be a translation thing, but what a weird translation. In this case, it’s a profoundly human thing Catra took because she grew up on Earth and spends most of her time with humans. She doesn’t give a shit about the religious aspect of it, but angels are certainly a topic of conversation whenever the naming of the seraphi comes up, so she’s aware of it and decided to take it as a way to torment everyone, herself included!

⦁ Double Trouble does like Catra and they’re disappointed she’s been caught, but they weren’t decided on interfering when Adora walked in because, well, they knew this was what she wanted. It’s a lot of work to go to to save someone’s life and risk their own reputation and “goodwill” just for someone who’s going to put a gun to her own head. They were upset about it, but at the moment they were on the indecisive edge of letting it happen, and then Adora walked in and solved their problem for them.

Chapter 9:

⦁ Garrus taking a rocket launcher to the face is iconic and he looks good with the scarring but I decided not to do it for three reasons: 1) this would bald the fur on Catra’s face. No, 2) it doesn’t necessarily add anything to the story and Catra had other (mental) health struggles to get through, 3) including the gunship fight off screen would have just complicated things unnecessarily considering it’s not leading fun boss gameplay for the reader, so Bow was just more successful at sabotaging the gunship than Shepard which let’s be real, makes sense. Adora was just the distraction.

⦁ So Catra’s mission was bullshit from the start. She didn’t pick up a gun for noble reasons, she did it because she had nothing to live for so who cared if she invited retaliation from the largest crime syndicates in the Terminus Systems, she’ll go out fighting. She could never do anything less. The fact it’s a “noble cause” is an excuse both to herself and others. If they ever did find and identify her body, word would make it back to her friends that she died trying to make a difference and not wandering over rooftops half feral. She didn’t “slip up” when they tailed her, she had just been doing this so long that being careful was a lagging priority. She was dead on her feet. She was ready for it to be over. The pain had plateaued and wasn’t getting better. At the same time, she could never let anyone say they killed her easy, she’s better than that and she’s better than this, even, so she just kept moving.

⦁ “Catra needs her with her shit together” totallyyyyyyyy isn’t “Catra has gotten very close with this commanding stranger while I’ve been gone and I need to be able to replace them”.

⦁ For me, personally, my ME1 and ME3 Shepard are mostly paragon but she goes through a renegade phase in ME2 because she’s really pushed to her limit. For Adora, that doesn’t quite happen, but lowkey she has no spoons left so her patience in nonexistent and she’s acting out a bit.

⦁ Melog’s pronouns became a topic of conversation in the Flex server because Catra refers to them with it/its in their first scene. I always read this as Catra freaking out about an alien animal invading her brain and not Melog immediately beaming its preferred pronouns into her head, but I’m absolutely not going to say anyone is wrong to use it/its, it’s just why I personally use they/them usually. Because of that though, I decided to go with it/its in this fic.

⦁ DT (kind of) took Catra under their wing because they saw her spinning out and stirring up trouble and was interested what would happen if they actually gave her more resources to blow the station up with. They didn’t give a shit about her “cause” and could tell she didn’t either, they just found her interesting, so they enabled their continued entertainment. After Catra spent so much time at Afterlife, they are fond of her but would never tell anyone that. They know Catra is just killing time by killing crime and downing shots waiting for the clock to run out, but DT’s “not-support” gave her a bit of an emotional tether to try a little harder to go undetected and make it last.

⦁ “"I helped her secure housing, and I gave her some names that fit her requirements every now and then, but she has always been independent.” When they say the final word, they make eye contact with Adora and curve their smile in a way that makes her skin itch to do something” This is DT taunting Adora with the fact Catra was always “independent” and they were never together. Said taunting wasn’t needed because Adora is already seethingly jealous :)

⦁ Red sand is a drug in the games that allows some temporary control of biotics without an implant, but comes with nasty side effects.

⦁ ““No one has ever been bored around you,” Catra says, and she says it like an insult. Adora doesn’t know, it’s kind of boring to watch her and Double Trouble flirt and she’s getting annoyed.” Adora knows that Catra is insulting when she’s affectionate which is why this got under her skin so much compared to Double Trouble’s innuendos.

Chapter 10:

⦁ In her two years of “solitude”, Catra gave in to more of her magicat behaviors she had to learn to hold in on Earth. Adora doesn’t notice it too much because Catra was always relaxed around her in private, but things like her chittering to Melog in the middle of a fight never would have happened two years before. When she didn’t really interact socially outside of occasionally going to a bar, she kind of lost some of the rules of socialization in general, which included the arbitrary limits from when she was on Earth. She then went to the SR2, where she not only didn’t give a shit what the crew thought, but actively wanted to throw her alienness in their face even if Shadow Weaver was right that she picked a tolerant crew, so after a little rehabilitation on the SR2 during the suicide mission, she’s brushed up on social interaction enough without the same human standard limits that clamped on her throat, which ultimately makes her fit in more with magicats, and benefits her role leading up to and during ME3.

⦁ Adora was trying to make her way to rubbing Catra’s scent glands before Catra rolled over and ruined it. Catra has been hesitant to mark her like she was willing to back on Earth or those last few weeks after the battle for the Citadel when she was firmly entrenching herself in the human crew who wouldn’t know better and certainly wouldn’t treat her as royalty, but it’s also an action that always helps Catra calm and Adora really wanted it herself even though she can’t pick it up. A big reason she's not marking her now, though, is because she doesn't trust this to stay.

⦁ For ME fans: Sorry I made you American, Kenneth, but it was perfect to replace Gabriella with Mermista since Jack usually hangs out right there and probably has to listen to them not-flirt all the time.

Chapter 11:

⦁ In the games, Protheans got twisted and more insect-y when they were turned into the collectors. I reblogged that post about Imp’s more bat-like traits than Hordak and tagged it with ITGB because it’s why I decided to take the Reapers’ twisting corruption in that direction for the First Ones considering the living one they find later is Kadroh (Wrong Hordak). The funny thing is I think I found it after I wrote the lines about Adora being worried about growing wings in Chapter 3, so it all came around really well.

⦁ That giant shirt Catra had on back at the Citadel was stolen from her one night stand with one of her scorpioni C-Sec co-workers when she was making bad decisions (always).

⦁ The different interactions between the various races were always the most interesting would building in Mass Effect for me so I had to have this sexual preferences conversation, because it is very different when it’s other species from other planets that have evolved differently.

⦁ To be honest, Catra was slightly weirded out about the joining (and thus seraphi sexually), and then Glimmer happened and the idea of Adora joining with her became a looming “threat” and firmly tipped Catra’s opinion into the negative. If Adora doing a joining was never on the table, she probably would be largely ambivalent, if uninterested, but now she has a bone to pick.

⦁ Shepard being more resistant to alcohol and poisons post-resurrection is a headcanon I’ve always had and I wanted to include it here. The ME1 scene in the bar at the Citadel was entirely to set up this revelation even though Adora being a lightweight is so true it doesn’t really need stage-setting.

⦁ I love the model ships but Adora doesn’t lol

⦁ Catra wasn’t “deflecting” when she said Adora’s eyes were the same, she was saying she always liked them, but Adora is stupid.

⦁ Okay so I almost always romance aliens because why else am I playing the alien game but Samantha Traynor’s romance is insane I always do it when I have the polyamory mod on and the shower scene is iconicccccccc. So I wanted to include a parallel to that, but I of course had to do it before they got together for it to hit the same way, so it had to be mid-ME2, after Catra had processed Adora’s return and before they got together.

Chapter 12:

⦁ For ME fans: Ok tbh I did the Shadow Broker plotline this way because I always found Liara’s ME2 storyline a little weird, especially her dedication to Feron. Like, yes, she wants to protect him and repay the debt, but to want that more than she wants to help Shepard, who she incurred that debt for? IDK, I wanted to do something I would find more interesting and tie more between games without needing to engage in supplemental material to even learn anything about the MacGuffin (Feron) LOL. Also, as I’ve said before, I didn’t want to just “retell” the games, so I wanted to make a new story here and change a lot of the ones that did get included.

⦁ Speaking of gripes with canon, the idea the Broker has such a large force of guards makes no sense. Unless signing on to guard his base is signing on for life and if you want to leave you have to die, someone would have found his base by now, that’s way too many loose ends. And if he never has people come, then he never needs guards, because no one could ever find him. Also the idea there are so many agents there and no one managed to get an intruder call off station that seemed serious enough that the agent(s) who got it just accept “it’s fine we dealt with it” minutes later is a bit hard to believe unless someone has tried this before (in recent memory) and failed — and again, his location would have gotten out before if that was the case. So instead I went with automated security and a few trusted agents coming to make deliveries cuz he does need to. yknow eat and stuff and probably wants a little luxury.

⦁ Glimmer knows Adora and Catra aren’t just sharing from “distrust” regardless of whatever delusions Adora is under. That said while she was on the ship she actually slept in the observation lounge on the couch with Scorpia (who had her own bed tucked into the corner at that point).

⦁ 4013-11-2018 = 40 years (of She-ra) 13/11/2018 (reboot rebut date). I had to look up what info is actually on dog tags for this because the one I have is just the lesbian flag from Too Damn Hot For You lol. Normally dog tags are 9 digits, but I added an extra because it’s been a while and this is Every Nation’s army, not just America, so they’re gonna need a lot of fucking numbers.

⦁ The car crash joke is just the dark funny kind I lowkey built this AU around, but “I’m ready to embrace my fucking bloodline” is also foreshadowing for the next chapter and Catra enabling her biotics.

⦁ “Her hair only gets brushed when Adora asks to do it” girl I wonder why that could be. Like yes at first that wasn’t her top priority but the second she knew she could get Adora to do it? Sealed.

⦁ “She wishes she could see her eyes, could see what her pupils look like” No, you wish you could see if she was looking at your lips, idiot. Which she was.

⦁ Originally they were supposed to get together on the bullet point labeled “suicide fuck” in my outline right before the final ME2 mission, but I just could not fucking stop them here, so I moved that to be their “I love you”s and first time together, while they were kindaaaaaaaa dating for the last few weeks.

⦁ I got minor writer’s block on this chapter because I knew I wanted to do it but when I got to it I couldn’t remember… why. I almost felt like I was doing it because I felt I had to hit the plot point even though I skip Most of them, but obviously I needed to include some segway to Glimmer being the Shadow Broker in ME3, I just couldn’t figure out what the theme for this chapter was or how it was going to tie into anyone else’s character arc, and I had ideas for the other chapters further on that I just wanted to write so I hit this wall with it. I already had the post-defeat scene outlined and in my folders, but I’d written it weeks ago and I just knew for it I hadn’t brought Catra along, which of course makes sense if you’re limited to three people by Game Restrictions but in a fic wouldn’t make as much sense. Meta and I were talking about Glimmer having complicated feelings around Adora because she was “saved” where her mom was lost, but I was just trying to muddy my way through Adora and Catra’s roles and motivations in this chapter, and then I ended up writing that line about Adora not having forgotten what Catra said about wanting to kill her resurrectors and I went oh, here’s the arc. And I’d already written in the previous scene Glimmer wrestling with Bow’s mortality and the suicide mission, only to open my untouched outline of the post-Broker scene to find I’d included it there too and suddenly there was a whole arc about Glimmer and Bow’s growth with each other, Adora and Catra settling the lingering feelings around Adora’s resurrection (I also had Adora finding the dogtags as a single bulletpoint in the outline), and Catra coming to realize some of the anxiety Bow went through and making up with him formally.

Chapter 13:

⦁ Shadow Weaver corrected that the Horde baited Adora not because she was wrong, but because she knew Adora could be more easily manipulated into letting go that she personally made a mistake than anyone else daring to fuck with her crew. Unfortunately for her Adora has done a good job of gathering what she can of her old crew and she’s a lot harder to manipulate than “usual”.

⦁ Catra was talking with Entrapta about the nanobots when Adora walked in on them, which is why they were both being weird, although Entrapta’s weird doesn’t really register for Adora. Catra walking in and immediately rushing into that conversation when she knew she had a small window is why Entrapta hadn’t had time to tell her about the galaxy map thing, but Catra’s new proposal was exciting too, so she was happy to talk about it. Catra got her to agree not to tell Adora by saying Adora would stop them (correct, or at least try) and then she wouldn’t get to do the experiment :( The discussion of the eezo is also the reason Catra says she “already” has a headache and she’s the one giving Adora a headache as well just from her own stress and displeasure.

⦁ Catra went from giving Adora migraines to solving them. Melog’s old owner could never.

⦁ The UV room is what Adora and Scorpia were setting up in Chapter 12 before Glimmer interrupted them.

⦁ The Hierarchy is actually the only government entity among the “main” races that explicitly forbids other races from joining, which isn’t considered a bigotry against other races thing, because it’s rather a symptom of how they hold ranks for all magicats, even the ones who never want to “join” the Hierarchy and live out on other worlds under other citizenships. Non-magicats are welcome to live and work on magicat worlds, they just can’t join their rank system and are considered “consultants” rather than holding an actual rank in the Hierarchy. Entrapta, for instance, is not part of the Hierarchy but can still have a highly specialized title that equates to the old doctor’s rank and be compensated and respected the same way.

Chapter 14:

⦁ Sovereign is of course a reference to Prime’s actual name in canon.

Chapter 15:

⦁ You’ll notice the Batarian mission never came up. This is because I hate it. Not like, for the story it serves, I just don’t like playing it, and it is an optional DLC, so in this ‘verse it just didn’t happen, much like it never happened in all my original ME2 playthroughs because I didn’t have the DLC until the Legendary Edition, and Adora and Bow needed to be tried for working with Eternia/terrorists anyway (and Bow for desertion).

[Chapter 27 spoilers below]

⦁ “I promise the climax of ME3 will make more of an appearance I just have nothing to say about the Suicide Mission except they shoot things a lot lmao” <- Little did you know I was talking about Catra screaming at the old Primavera for having the audacity to die on her.

[peskellence]

Pairing: RK900/Gavin Reed

Tags: Post Pacifist Ending, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Slow Burn, Eventual Smut, Angst, Hurt/ Comfort

AO3 Link

Masterlist

Summary: In the aftermath of Detroit's android revolution, Nines grapples with the complexities of his newfound deviancy. As he seeks to establish his place in a newly transformed society, his resolve is put to the ultimate test when he is paired with Detective Gavin Reed—a notoriously volatile human with a well-established hatred for androids—to investigate a series of murders.

While initial impressions of his partner seem to suggest his reputation is well-deserved, the more time Nines spends with him, the more he is forced to challenge his judgments. As they form an unexpected bond, the RK900 is also pushed to examine truths about himself he would much rather seek to forget. (A Retelling of ‘More Than Our Parts’ from the POV of Nines.)

Warnings: Graphic Violence, Depression/Self Destructive Behaviour, Eventual Smut

Word Count: 4.9K

Tag List: @sweeteatercat @wedonthaveawhile @gho-stychan @tentoriumcerebelli @negative-citadel @faxaway @moriahadi424 @unicorn4genocide @cptjh-arts

The meeting itinerary was crafted to near perfection: anchored in hours of research, built on a sturdy bedrock of logic. While Nines admittedly preferred his partner’s proposal of intelligence extraction via the impact of fists, they had determined the current plan was more constructive. 

Reed had personally extended his blessings to the summary—or ‘liked’ it, amid bouts of digestive upset. An acknowledgement which, as far as he was concerned, was comparable to a standing ovation.

The ‘above-board’ methodology might not immediately gratify, but the reaped benefits would reward the restraint. Securing their first significant lead, in the form of a particularly loathsome accomplice, one Nines anticipated would buckle fast under the weight of formal questioning.

He entered the meeting with a sense of uplift, each step planting crisply on the tiles beneath. His movements were charged with certainty, each narrowing the distance between themselves and the killer. 

That was until Fowler spoke, about five minutes into the presentation. His words edged with ruthless bite, like a chisel splitting through stone:

"So, let me get this straight—you think these killings are somehow connected to this 'Mikey Scott' goon. Someone who, from what I’ve read in your report, probably can’t tie his own shoes." 

The path that had appeared so clear moments prior was harshly impeded. A blockade descended, pushing Nines back, forcing him to contend with its shockwaves.

It was disorientating, but unsurprising. Pushback had been anticipated, cause and effect Nines had observed repeatedly in his short lifespan. An authority figure compelled by the instinct to defend their control, wherever they perceived it being challenged.

Nines remained undeterred, understanding that the obstruction, while irksome, was not insurmountable. Slim pockets of doubt remained on either side, giving him just enough room to manoeuvre. He proceeded calmly, armed with ample munitions for a rebuttal. 

“Scott lied at length during his witness statement. We have a solid hypothesis as to why.” The android slid one of the papers, methodically arranged in front of him, across the desk. “These logs suggest affiliation with a key person, or persons, of interest.”

Fowler glanced down, eyes narrowing as he scanned the contents. His focus quickly soured into a distant contempt, as if the document were written in hieroglyphics. “Of interest to who, exactly? Because if you think this’ll hold up in court, you’ll be laughed out the door. Assuming it even gets that far.”

"I understand it may appear superfluous, but I assure you, it is not. Detective Reed and I agree that the code here is consistent with what we have seen used by our killer thus far. Communication that has been relayed covertly with Mr Scott, with instructions to—"  

A palm was raised, directed stubbornly towards the android, to which he was instructed to halt the explanation. 

"You have a theory, but that’s it. I'm not seeing a shred of proof. You two have been assigned to this case for over a week, and all you've got to show for it is another body. What the Hell have you been doing?"

The gap he had been so carefully skimming suddenly closed around him. Nines found himself squeezed from both sides, faced with pressure that felt unjustly dismissive, almost insulting. Lack of progress stemmed not from an absence of effort, but from a shortage of resources. Evidence that could not be manufactured where it did not exist, of which their superior was well aware. 

The RK refused to concede, bracing to push forward again. A glimmer of light lay ahead, identifiable as the breakthrough he had so ardently pursued. It enticed him, and he reached towards it. Willing the space to open up, until the slivered gleam brushed his fingers—

"—Hey, we've been busting our asses.” 

Reed, by contrast, charged the wall, obstinate and unapologetic. Jerking from his slouched position, he shunted the crumbled remnants of grit from his shoulders. “Where do you get off on telling us what we have and haven't done?" 

This did little to promote amiability in their captain. If anything, it did the opposite. The blockage remained, margins closing at an alarming rate. 

"I'm the one in charge here, Reed.” The older man craned forward, teeth bared in a contemptuous snarl. “You'd do well to remember that."

"Captain." 

In an attempt to de-escalate tensions, Nines gripped the horns of the bull closest in proximity. He placed a hand on Reed’s shoulder, offering assurance, but also encouraging him to back down. Regrettably, this had an unforeseen consequence: a sudden, vicious affront on his equanimity.

The touch was entirely benign, a featherlight grip that barely breached the folds of his jacket, but contact nonetheless. Reed was softer than one might expect, with a gentle warmth and suppleness which surrounded dense muscle. He did not smell overwhelmingly of booze or cigarettes, perhaps too delicate for either following his weekend excursions.

In the absence of this, his odour was…pleasant. Woody, earthy, with just a hint of artificial enhancement in the form of aftershave.

He was not permitted to indulge in it long. Reed recoiled from the hold, snapped back into his chair in a fierce rejection. The momentum jolted Nines from his reverie. Gazing at the space between his fingers, he found himself torn between conflicting sentiments:

Relief and dissatisfaction.

He focused on the former, determined to ensure that at least one of them retained control in the situation, pulling their presentation from the floundering tailspin it had entered. 

The hand was lowered, faster than warranted, and pinned stiffly to his side. With his available arm, he directed back to the forgotten papers. 

"Consider the bigger picture. We are no longer observing the actions of a single madman. This is an organised hate group with a violent modus operandi—one that may prove lethal if ignored.”

"I think it’s you who needs to consider the bigger picture.” Fowler bucked into the words, as though burdened by a weight he trusted the android to understand.

He did. The load was passed vicariously onto his shoulders, pressing down until the ground vanished beneath him. His mind splintered away, unmoored, and he escaped the office.

Nines was back in Anderson’s home, seated in front of the television, as the self-satisfied grin of Teagan Rodgers filled the screen. Her rouged lips parted to unleash a torrent of defamation, sandwiched between insidiously curated statistics.

"This department has already been dragged through the mud. You’re asking me to let you wade deeper so you can test a hunch."

Nines was dumped unceremoniously back into the office, struck by the realisation that understanding and acceptance were not mutually exclusive. The injustice of the circumstances gripped his throat, squeezing like a vice. He felt all the more compelled to continue, hoping that resistance might release him from its intolerable hold.

"It is not a hunch; we have established a link,” he reiterated curtly. “The use of code is synonymous with our suspect profile."

Fowler stared ahead, vehemently insisting on looking anywhere but the desk. Were the circumstances different and the man not his chief, Nines may have forced him. Eventually, his gaze did drop. It was slow and weary, a descent coloured by preemptive dismissal fitting of an irate school teacher.

He snatched the paper from beneath the android's palm and studied its contents. His focus shifted repeatedly, bouncing back and forth, until the sheet was swiftly abandoned and a terse grunt passed from his lips.

"You mean the 7-letter cypher?” The words dripped with condescension, as though Nines had presented him with the solution for a children's word search. “The same code I used to pass notes to my crush in high school?"

The impact of the disrespect was beginning to take its toll. Internal instability loomed, impeding temporal functionality. Nines stubbornly dismissed the warnings, clearing the scope of his HUD with a blink.

"It is not a matter of decryption method. It is the context in which it was used. CLHQ is a code in itself, most likely a location for—"

"Is this seriously the hill you're prepared to die on? A pair of Joe Schmo’s with decoder rings. That's your smoking gun?”

The alerts re-emerged almost immediately, having scarcely had time to disperse. They refused to be dismissed again, circumventing all attempts at manual control. 

“An arrest demands probable cause. Or did you miss that part of your training?”

> WARNING.

> LEVEL OF STRESS:  83%  

> SUGGESTED APPROACH: REDUCTION OR REMOVAL OF HARMFUL STIMULUS. 

A steady glow enveloped his vision, tinting the office an ominous red. He could feel his arms trembling until he pressed them against the table, seeking to steady himself. His knuckles tensed as his nails dug grooves into the underside of the desk.

"We have both evidence and probable cause. Even if we didn't, there’s certainly a basis for reasonable suspicion."  

The RK was reaching his breaking point. He had grown tired of repeating himself, teetering on the brink of wilful defiance. Any semblance of empathy deserted him as he coldly reminded the man of a single, damning truth. "Considering my model, Captain, I ask that you trust my judgement on this."

He did not endure the blow to his pride graciously. His jaw clenched as Fowler retaliated, demanding the android clarify his position. "Are you implying that my judgment isn't enough?"

Nines was struck by a sudden, overwhelming disillusionment with the institution he represented. Something he imagined his more volatile partner faced on a near-daily basis. 

It was no wonder he reacted so adversely to it; the emotion it inspired was torturous. 

> Yes.

He attempted to vocalise the response but found himself unable to do so. The word jammed in his throat before emerging as a weak murmur of static.

"Do not get smart with me—I'm warning you."

"It's not ‘getting smart.’” In his silence, Reed had opted to speak for him. “It is trying to make a point; you just don't wanna hear it."

With the defence, stress levels began to lower, as the intensity of his anger tempered into subdued annoyance. Nines looked between Reed and Fowler, wary of the repercussions that would come from the insubordination. 

He anticipated it would worsen matters, dumping kindling onto an already raging inferno. In a startling rejection of logic, however, the wood proceeded to quell the flames. 

Watching the Captain with greater scrutiny, there was a glimpse of something beyond his contemptuous glower: Hesitation and struggle. Synonymous with a man who understood, but felt obliged to reject this.  

"RK900…” he spoke slowly, syllables drawn by his own disillusionment. “There's a reason I hired you, and it has nothing to do with your model. You have potential, I can see it, but you've been with the department for less than a year. There’s still plenty of time to screw it all up.”

Remorse was forgotten quickly, in favour of a return to personal grievance. Undermining the facade of professionalism, Fowler pointed at Reed, flagrantly outlined as a scapegoat.

"Case in point: I trusted you to keep this genius supervised. What you've done is let him play Choose Your Own Adventure—again." 

"It was a good adventure to pick,” Reed abandoned his chair, the flimsy legs screeching beneath him in shared protest. “We've made fucking progress. Not only are these freaks local, but they're following our investigation. 'Organic + synth'? I mean, come on, it's hardly subtle who they're talking about." 

"Subtle or not, it doesn't prove their involvement in anything. Other than shit-talking police." 

"Jeff, give us a break.” His appeal was strained, caught between a groan and a sigh. “We pay this guy a visit, ask him some questions, and suddenly he's arranging an emergency clan meeting? If he had nothing to hide, he wouldn't be worried."  

"Who says he's worried? 'CLHQ' could stand for anything. Hell, what about the new cafe that's opened up on Renaissance Drive?"

"Coffee Lovers: Harbour Quarter", Nines offered dryly, in an improvised conjecture. As he spoke, however, another—more inferential—hypothesis flashed through his mind. 

He held his tongue, not wishing to ignite the embers of recently tempered flame. There would be opportunities to corroborate his credibility, demonstrating the theory's validity. 

For now, Fowler had responded well to his humouring. He leaned back, feigning familiarity with the fictional establishment as he snapped his fingers. 

"That's the one. Last I checked, it wasn't illegal to meet for coffee. Unless that's something you take a personal issue with?" 

"Are we seriously going to give these bastards a hall pass for all the dangerous and illegal shit they've been saying?” Reed was growing increasingly impassioned—incensed—seen in the ruddy tinge of his cheeks. “I thought inciting violence against androids was a criminal offence.”

Fowler baulked, his grimace weakening with confusion. He was floored, not so much by the surface-level parroting of policy, but by which of the partners had imparted it. 

"...Well shit, look who's finally decided to read up on current legislation."

"Do you even care? Give two shits about all the twisted shit these people might try to do?”

A spark of true passion had emerged, cutting through the haze of long-standing prejudice—the plight of lifeforms distanced and othered, recontextualised through a lens of injustice he comprehended.

Nines was less surprised than he should have been, as logically, it made no sense. Yet, the detective had demonstrated, quite apparently through recent events, his ability to overturn initial assumptions, subverting expectations.

"Since when do you, Reed?"

But there was a limit, withstanding for as long as stubborn internal mechanisms continued to shift. With this, it was rediscovered. 

Reed jerked back, winded, as his remaining argument puffed ineffectually into the air. His stare was paradoxically distant, but sharp with underlying clarity. As if he could see, realized in front of him, a line he had etched meticulously into his mind. Horrified by just how close he had come to crossing it.

Retreat was swift, as he concealed himself beneath a familiar veil of security: denial and deflection. 

"It doesn't matter how I feel. The law is the law; that's all there is to it.”

Amid the slew of intricacies and anomalies Nines had been observing in him, this response proved disappointingly predictable. It inspired dissatisfaction he attempted to conceal, although he sensed his partner had noticed. 

Still avoiding Fowler’s eyeline, his wandering focus had shifted to the unstable sequencing of his LED. A flicker passed through the mossy green, separate in origin from the jumbled reflections of light. It was quiet and solemn, weighted by uncertainty, almost seeming guilty.

It was gone before Nines could verify it, as Reed finally looked to their captain. His stare hardened with renewed resolve as the older man appeared resentful of the confrontation, although he did not dismiss it outright.

Having been bested within the narrow scope of the law and protocol being upheld, he relented, allowing some give. "...We'll look into the activity you've presented. At the very least, we can have the forum shut down. Slap Scott a fine for hate speech.” 

His eyes, which had flitted closed in exasperation, suddenly opened.  A halfhearted attempt was made to stack the printouts, accompanied by a sharp exhale through his nose.

“But you can't let yourself get distracted.” The malformed pile was ushered fractiously towards the partners, as a curt nod directed them to the exit. “The longer you waste time, the more androids die. You have one more week to gather some real leads and evidence. Don't let me down.”

Reed snarled resentfully. He prepared to snatch at the olive branch being extended by Fowler, snapping it in two and hurling it back. Nines, despite personal convictions, intervened before he could do so. 

"Thank you for your consideration, Captain. I assure you, we will not disappoint." 

The detective’s head whipped around as he stared, unflinching. Silently imploring explanation, clarity on why the RK had chosen now, of all moments, to accept defeat. 

As he rose from his seat, Nines offered a subtle nod. It assured Reed that his decision had not come lightly, and that elaboration would follow in due time. 

For now, a tension settled, thick and stifling, between the partners. It was only thinned by the chill that whipped through the hallway, sourced by a partially opened fire escape, at which Reed began charging. 

His shoulders were hunched, burdened by tension, and he was rifling persistently through his pocket. Presumably, he was feeling well enough to desire a cigarette—or had reached a level of aggravation where he no longer cared.

"Why does that old fucker have to be so stubborn? The pieces are there, dammit, if he could just give us a chance to put them together."

"It is undeniably frustrating, but I can understand his position,” Nines admitted. “The Homicide Department has been facing significant scrutiny relating to these crimes. Consensus is that the police are treating the victims as low priority, given they are androids."

"Bullshit."

Reed continued rummaging, moving with greater urgency in every laboured stomp. Scattered tissues and a faded receipt hit the floor before his hand emerged, clutching a battered cardboard box. He pulled an equally misshapen cigarette from its confines, holding it out for inspection like a priceless artefact.

"The bastard killing these bots is tricky. They have no idea how little we've had to work with."

As Nines followed alongside the man, he accessed the most recent version of their case file. Information populated the interface, and he was dismayed by the scant overview. Despite this, he extracted the attached subfolders, scrolling procedurally through the content.

"The lack of forensic evidence is troubling…” He paused, occupied by another detail—something that did prove tangible, defined, throughout the sequence of images. “However, our assailant clearly wants us to follow the trail he is creating. This is more than senseless brutality; it is a game."

"I hate to think what this guy was like as a kid, if this is his idea of a game."

Arriving at the frosted steps out of the precinct, the harshness of the cold was greatly enhanced. Nines adjusted his heating drivers, raising the temperature of his circulating biofluid, combatting the impact.

His partner's preservation measures proved less efficient. A harsh breeze whipped through the open folds of his jacket, which he scrambled to guard himself against. A lighter was fished from his pocket before his arms pinched tight to his chest, and he attempted to coordinate igniting the cigarette with his descent down the concrete.

The distraction was ill-advised, as the worn soles of his sneakers provided very little grip. The rubber squeaked disconcertingly against the ice, to which Nines ensured he kept a close distance.

With one particularly pronounced slip, Reed stalled. Idling on the stairs, he grounded himself on a less icy platform. He then lit the cigarette and attempted to secure a drag.

It was chopped and clumsy, his jaw spasming uncontrollably, as the violent gnashing of his teeth prevented the fumes from escaping. A cough rumbled from within his mouth, which he attempted to play off as the deliberate clearing of his throat. 

Nines, amused by the unnecessary bravado, chuckled in response.

“Don't know what you're laughin’ at…” the human grunted. His lips pulled to the side as a targeted jet of smoke was released through the purse. "It's not my fault I get cold and you don't."

"On the contrary, my biocomponents experience reduced functionality in extreme weather conditions. While I may not face the same physical discomfort, the cold has its impact."

"So stop being an asshole about it then.” He took another drag, deeper into his lungs, released with a lethargic head tilt. “I don't know what works for you androids when you're freezing your balls off, but this works for humans."

The android paused, eyebrow raised, as a sequence of damning physical readings undermined the statement.

"Biologically speaking, it does the opposite,” he explained, the words REDUCED METABOLIC CAPACITY asserting themselves boldly across his interface. “Smoking constricts blood vessels, exacerbating the feelings of cold—you would be better off purchasing gloves. Or a decent winter coat."

A new coat would undoubtedly suit him. Something tailored, fitted to his form, whilst still conforming to his usual style. Perhaps a brown wool blend, or distressed suede with a structured collar. A garment that could serve the practical purpose of retaining heat, but also complement the more inviting aspects of his physique…

"I wish they'd built you with a fucking mute button."

Nines shook his head briskly. The idea was not unappealing, provided this mute function extended to internal dialogue.

“Perhaps it would be best to maintain focus on the investigation.” Skirting past any further wardrobe critique, he redirected the exchange to more pressing concerns. “I have a theory I wish to share with you, relating to the instructions given to Mr Scott…”

> SOURCE PATH: EVIDENCE PROFILE #407

> INSTRUCTIONS (DOUBLE DECRYPTED) —TLLA HA JS OX ZS J → MEET AT CL HQ SL C

> CROSS-REFERENCING INT. FILE: SUSPECT PROFILE

> SELECTING SEARCH CRITERIA — SUBCATEGORY: MOTIVATION

> LOADING RESULTS…

> ALIGNING SOURCE PATH WITH EVIDENCE PROFILE #378 #239

CROSS-REFERENCING COMMERCIAL AND INDUSTRIAL DEVELOPMENTS…

> MEET AT CL HQ SL C

> PARTIAL SOLUTION ESTABLISHED.

> MARGIN OF ERROR 0.5%

“Assuming the code is an anagram, and considering the probable relevance of numerous Detroit-based landmarks and businesses, the prevailing solution is that the letters refer to 'CyberLife Headquarters.”

Reed, who had been studying the piling embers on the end of his smoke, looked up in surprise. He considered the information, brow pinched in concentration, before nodding slowly. 

"...I mean, that makes sense. All the victims are androids—could be some kind of statement." 

> SUSPECT PROFILE 

> ACCESSING SUBCATEGORY: MOTIVATION 

> PERSONAL VENDETTA — PROFESSIONAL AFFILIATION. FIELD: CYBERNETICS. 

> INSUFFICIENT DATA

> UPDATING…

"That is not the only reason for my deduction. Having studied Mr Scott's online behaviour, I thought it only perfunctory to conduct a background check."

"I'm guessing you found something?"

> DECRYPTION OF SOURCE CODE #407

> B.M. SCOTT DISTRIBUTOR CONTACTS, ALLOTTED SHIPMENTS #587 - #3243, RECORDS SPAN 10 YEARS

"Indeed. It would seem our friend has a long history with the company, dating back to early 2028. He found success as an android components trader, issuing supplies to local warehouses. The revolution called for the dissolution of his business, with no new models planned for production…" 

"...so he would have gone bust around the same time CyberLife did," his partner finished. He had begun to descend the steps again, albeit slowly, hanging on every word. His cigarette was forgotten, clasped limply between two fingers.

"It wouldn't be a leap to assume that this resulted in a hefty amount of resentment: not only for Mr Scott, but for his contacts who were also made redundant. Perhaps they have been back in touch." 

 "So what are you thinking? Our killer worked for CyberLife?" 

> GATHERING ADDITIONAL SUPPORTING DATA…

> SOURCE PATH: CRIMINAL ACTIVITIES 

> SYSTEMATIC DISARMING, TERMINATION AND DISASSEMBLY OF VICTIM(S)

> INTIMATE FAMILIARITY WITH CYBERLIFE ANDROIDS BEYOND BREADTH OF PUBLICLY ACCESSIBLE DATA.

"A knowledge of robotics and android manufacture would explain much of the killer's skillset. In all the cases we have investigated thus far, they seemed to have possessed a keen understanding of how to neutralise their victim. Exploiting the MJ100's hearing fault—and winning the trust of the Traci, convincing them that they were a client."

"I wouldn't say those things require a degree in Advanced Cyber Engineering. What's to say Scott couldn't do the same thing?"

"The hearing fault of the MJ100 was only known to affect models of a certain batch. It was not widely publicised. In addition, while a male Traci is not invulnerable, they are built for strength and durability. To take one down single-handedly is an impressive feat." 

> UPDATE COMPLETE. 

Nines felt assured in his conclusion and pleased to merge understanding with his partner. Unfortunately, Reed still seemed to be catching up in certain aspects. 

"...So why didn't you tell Fowler any of this?” Ash, which had amassed at the end of his cigarette, fell to the step in a chalky mound. He discarded what else remained: a blackened stub of paper and tobacco. “For fuck's sake, Nines, it might have helped when we were trying to make our case."

"I outlined my findings in all relevant reports. Perhaps you should review them sometime."

The man expelled an aggrieved groan, albeit unaccompanied by any real protest. "So what gives, then? Why doesn't Fowler want us looking into Scott?"

"He doesn't want the case questioned. Scott’s ties to CyberLife mean nothing unless we can link our killer to the same place."

"Yeah, but with our primary witness now off limits, how are we supposed to track down a suspect? I mean, CyberLife Detroit must’ve had hundreds of engineers. Where do we start looking?"

"Our search needn't extend beyond those terminated within the last few months. Using what we already know about our killer, we can further narrow our list to those fitting the profile."

"How do we get the list in the first place?"

The seeds of a plan, which had been planted as contingency, should Fowler fail to assist them, began to sprout. "Simple, we go to Headquarters directly."

Reed came to a grinding halt. It forced Nines to do the same, avoiding a collision that would have flattened him against the sidewalk. He looked up at the android, his gaze honed sharply, before addressing him with an equally pointed retort:

"I don't know if you've noticed, but CyberLife is in deep shit right now, up to its neck in damage control. They aren't going to make it worse for themselves by implicating former staff."

"What if we weren't seeking to procure names for legal purposes?"

The man continued to stare, strands of comprehension flickering behind his eyes, failing to connect—until suddenly, they did. The cloudy haze lifted, a jolt of understanding slicing through it, as his posture straightened. 

"Are you saying we go undercover?"

"If you are up to the challenge, then yes."

Another jolt, wedged between apprehension and intrigue. "Fowler would never—"

The sentence aborted, severed before it came to fruition. He looked beyond the android, towards the door, still slightly ajar at the top of the stairs. He disembarked the steps quickly, ensuring no lingering coworkers would hear him. Nines was encouraged to do the same, guiding into the parking lot with a pointed usher.

Once they had moved a reasonable distance from the exit, shouldered between two patrol vehicles, Reed felt confident in speaking again:

"I can't believe I'm the one saying this, but we could get in a lot of trouble. Are you sure you want to do this?"

"I can assure you, we are unlikely to face any severe disciplinary action… should our actions prove justifiable.” It was a surreal submersion of their roles, with the android being the instigator of a reckless gamble of their personal and professional reputations, albeit one supported by calculated risk.

Curious as it was, the cooperation of his partner would prove advantageous. It would prove highly inconvenient if Reed picked now, of all times, to start complying with the rules. 

And so, he shamelessly appealed to the man’s rebellious sensibilities, countering his reservations with a playful challenge.

"I trust you won't give the game away."

There was silence between them for a moment, as the detective looked torn. Eventually, fascination and excitement won over more mundane compunctions. His shoulders began to tremble, as a snort held in the back of his throat. 

Then, a series of rich vibrations pealed from his lips, filling the air, undermining any attempt to conceal their position.

"You know, when you first joined the force, I had you pegged for a little plastic suck up. But you aren't like that at all, are you? You're a devious shit."

The title did not feel insulting, although it was in a literal sense. There was a playfulness to the delivery that could be easily misinterpreted as genuine fondness.

He responded in kind, lips moving instinctively before he could stop them. "I believe you said it yourself, Detective. I am full of surprises."

Reed laughed again, louder, and Nines experienced brief satisfaction at the approval, before a staggering sense of unease trounced it. The warmth of Reed’s laugh lingered longer than it should have, filling a space Nines hadn't expected to notice.

As the man beamed at him, he picked up on subtle intricacies in the expression. The uncanny sharpness of his canines. How his smile sat lopsided, pulled to one side, forming a dimple in his cheek. The frivolous data was recorded with unwavering meticulousness and committed to his memory banks without conscious instruction.

It was undeniable at this point that events of the previous day had inspired a staggering, irrevocable shift in his perception.

He was inexplicably and hopelessly fixated on the human’s appearance. It was almost reminiscent of the women in RK800’s dismal films. A leading lady, absorbed by every mundane detail of her love interest. As though she were trying to justify his uniqueness, validating why she was so drawn to him specifically.

Whatever Nines was experiencing seemed to share a similar nuance. 

The implications were damning and a dismayed heat began to rise in his cheeks. He did not wish to draw conclusions—far from informed on the subject and lacking the emotional intelligence to understand innately. A realm in which his less ‘advanced’ predecessor effortlessly excelled. 

He required his guidance immediately, no longer willing to extend the luxury of patiently awaiting replies. Nines opened his temporal link to RK800, only to freeze, realising he lacked the needed parameters to define his predicament.

The channel was closed, as he determined it would be easier to address the matter in person.