#Merge Partition

[rajaniesh]

Supercharge Your Data: Advanced Optimization and Maintenance for Delta Tables in Fabric

Dive into the final part of our series on optimizing data ingestion with Spark in Microsoft Fabric! Discover advanced optimization techniques and essential maintenance strategies for Delta tables to ensure high performance and efficiency in your data Ops

Welcome to the third and final installment of our blog series on optimizing data ingestion with Spark in Microsoft Fabric. In our previous posts, we explored the foundational elements of Microsoft Fabric and Delta Lake, delving into the differences between managed and external tables, as well as their practical applications. Now, it’s time to take your data management skills to the next…

[belovaballerina]

Our Merge is Eternal

Grotequerie: Father Charlie Mayhew x fem!reader 

Rating: Explicit (Minors DNI)

WC: 2k 

Prompt: “Can’t you see that you’re lost without me?” -Cirice by Ghost for @sweetspicybingo (Lyrical Bingo Collection)

Warnings: Oral (f receiving), religious imagery, religious guilt, handjob, public sex, spanking, whipping, pain play, penance, verbal humiliation, manipulation, bondage and sacrilege

Summary: Penance can be a beautiful, wonderful release

“Bless me, Father, for have I sinned. It has been two weeks since my last confession.”

It always started the same way: with you in the confessional booth, the screen blurring Father Mayhew’s face, and you squirming on your knees as your sins poured from your lips. It always ended the same way: blistering pain delivered with the palm of his hand, the sharp crack of leather or sturdy wood (penance), on your knees with his cock in your mouth as tears dripped down your cheeks (guidance) and curled in his lap as he wiped your tears away (forgiveness). He was careful, allowing only your mouth and hands to pleasure him, as he did the same with you, always avoiding fucking. The sin of fornication will not consume us, he had whispered against your wet thigh with his mouth coated in your juices.

“I absolve you of your sins in the name of the Father, and the Son, and the Holy Spirit.”

Every two weeks, like clockwork. Repeat, Repeat, Repeat. It kept you going and gave you something to look forward to, even if something was twisted about it. You welcomed the dalliance, running headfirst into it and into the arms of Father Charlie Mayhew. Those brown eyes would be your undoing, but who better than to forgive you than a man of God?

The cycle came full circle once again as you entered the confessional, arousal pooling hot and thick between your thighs and causing you to press them together tightly to dull the ache. The partition whooshed open, and you began your confession. The vulgar words fell from your tongue as you admitted your sin of self-pleasure. You felt unnerved as you were met with silence. Perhaps this had run its course.

“I want you to meet me tonight in the church,” he whispered, his face obscured by the screen.

Your heart thrummed in your chest. You were used to it happening in his office after he had finished with confession. This was something new. A break in the usual routine. It thrilled you.

“Yes, Father, what time?” you asked, hands still folded before you.

“At midnight. I’ll see you then,” Charlie responded before slamming the partition close. You move your hand through the sign of the cross before hurrying away.

A storm rolled in that evening, making the air hot and heavy, and thick raindrops poured from the gray sky. Thunder cracked through the air as lightning lit up the dark sky with bright bursts. You shivered as you hurried through the heavy doors, rain soaking through your clothes and leaving your skin feeling clammy as you made your way into the chapel. You had attended midnight mass, but beautiful candles had illuminated the room, which remained eerily dark tonight. A loud clap of thunder made you jump, and a crack of lightning brought Father Mayhew into view.

He stood at the pulpit in his black cassock, his expression stern and a rope dangling from one hand. You swallowed, approaching him slowly, unsure of what would unfold this evening as hee stepped down to meet you.

“On your knees, sinful girl,” he instructed, and you obeyed without a second thought. 

Instinctively, you lifted your wrists toward him, your palms pressed together. He guided your arms straight up into the air, sliding your shirt overhead, and your cheeks burned hot as your bare breasts were exposed. He tutted, giving one of your nipples a chastising pinch. You watched with wide eyes and bated breath as he looped the rope around your wrist, securing them with an elegant knot. His hand gripped your chin, thumb pressing to your lower lip before tracing around the outline of your mouth. Your stomach twisted as heat palpated deeper. He tugged you to your feet with a firm grip on your roped wrists before circling you.

“You come to me repeatedly, confessing the same sin,” he stated, his dark eyes boring into you.

Your mouth felt dry. “I fear I need guidance, Father. I simply find myself giving into temptation.”

He stood behind you, his hand slapping down firmly against your ass and making you stumble over your feet.

���And if thy right hand offend thee, cut it off, and cast it from thee: for it is profitable for thee that one of thy members should perish, and not that thy whole body should be cast into hell,” he hissed into your ear, his hand crashing down against your backside over and over. Pain blossomed across your skin.

“Matthew 5:30, Father,” you sniffled as he pulled your body flush against his. Your back against his chest, and you could feel it heaving with every breath he took.

“Good girl,” he purred, one warm hand pressing against your stomach, fingers dipping into the waistband of your loose-fitting black joggers, “Is that what I should do? Cut off your hands to keep them from wandering between your thighs, to keep your fingers from dipping into your greedy little cunt?”

You let out a garbled cry, unsure of how to respond as his hand plunged into your pants and underwear, his fingers immediately seeking your drenched pussy.

“I fear for your soul, child,” he whispered as his fingertips skimmed over your folds. Your lower lip trembled. His hand squeezed your right hip, a comforting touch that kept you grounded and assured you that you were safe. All you had to do was utter a simple word, and he would stop, letting you go about your evening. Either of you could end this sinful dalliance at a moment’s notice, but it just felt so good.

“Don’t let me go astray, Father. Teach me, guide me,” you moaned, caught up in the moment and willing to explore whatever he had planned.

“I will do just that. Can’t you see that you’re lost without me?” Guide me, Father, for I am but a lamb lost among the wolves.

He pulled his hand away before pushing you onto your knees and then onto your stomach before removing your shoes and tugging the clothing away from your lower half. Your face felt like it was on fire as you were exposed in such a sacred, holy area. Your eyes flickered to the statue of Mother Mary, feeling her judgment upon you. Have mercy on me, Mother.

His hands roamed over your naked skin, squeezing your prickled flesh before resting on the swell of your ass. Tears burned your eyes as his hand smacked down, over and over, searing his burning mark into your skin. You squirmed against the carpet, feeling the rug burn, irritating your stomach. You choked on your tears as they rolled hotly down your cheeks, chasing this feeling and murmuring prayers of repentance. O loving and gracious God, have mercy. Have pity upon me and take away the awful stain of my sin.

Charlie’s body pressed ontop of yours, his teeth seeking out the soft curve of your throat. You felt the swell of his erection against your abused ass. His knee slipped between your legs, pressing against your dripping cunt.

“Even now, in the sanctity of the church, your penance doesn’t deter you from your sinful nature,” he hissed into your ear before sinking his teeth into your neck. Your eyes rolled back, relishing in the sweet pop of pain that throbs through your body, rutting against his knee. 

All you could do was mewl pathetically in response as he rolled you onto your back and then cupped your face in his hands. He took in the sight of your tear-stained face and swollen lips, a small pang thrummed through his heart.

“How can I judge you so? You are no more sinful than I,” he whispered, stroking his thumbs over your tear tracks. His lips pressed against your trembling ones before undoing the ropes and pulling away from you.

You sniffled, struggling to catch your breath as you watched him stand and stretch out his arms before peeling his clothing away. The lightning bathed his skin in an eerie glow as you drank in the sight of his muscular body. It seemed wrong for a priest to be so beautiful and tempting. But God tests us in mysterious ways.

“You are so gracious in guiding me onto a righteous path. Let me help you,” you offered, extending your hand toward him.

His gaze softened, and you were lost in those warm brown eyes for a moment—endless pools of amber that you would gladly drown in. He sank to his knees, pressing his hand into yours before pulling your naked body against his.

“Would you?” he asked in earnest.

“Yes,” you smiled, stroking your fingers through his dark hair.

He kissed you again before handing you his knotted white cincture, pure as the driven snow.

“Turn around,” you instructed, smoothing your hand over his bare chest before getting used to the feel of the item in your hands. The darkness consumed you both, and you knew exactly what he was asking for.

He presented his bare back, laced with scars and a few open wounds that must have been placed earlier today. You traced your fingers over his skin, memorizing the layout of the marks and making a map of the area to lay the blows. It will be less intense than the leather cat o’nine tails, but it will suffice for now. You brought down the knotted rope against his skin, delighting in the grunt that he emitted. It doesn’t draw blood, but even in the dark light of the church, you can see the bruises blooming-mottled and purple.

You tossed the cincture aside, dropping to your knees behind him. Your lips ghosted over the marks, tongue pressing against a fresh one, throbbing against his skin and tasting the tang of blood. Charlie shivered under your touch as your hand slipped down his taut stomach to grasp his cock. You gently stroked and tugged on his rigid flesh as he arched against your hand as you danced him to the edge of a blessed release.

“Come for me, Father,” you purred into his ear, drunk on the dark power flowing through your veins. 

He spilled into your palm, sticky and pearlescent, as the sweetess moan fell from his parted lips. His head lolled back, resting against the plush pillows of your breasts. He rested against you, gathering his strength, and your head spun as he lifted you into his arms, carrying you to the altar. He lowered you onto the draped table, and you squirmed as your bare, sore ass came in contact with the hard, unforgiving surface. Charlie looked almost devilish as he dropped between your thighs, splaying them wide for him before swiping his tongue over your quivering cunt.

“Recite the Act of Contrition,” he ordered before dipping his tongue inside you.

You gasped, threading your fingers through his hair and rocking against his mouth.

“Oh My God, I am sorry for my sins. In choosing to sin and failing to do good, I have sinned against you and your church.”

Charlie’s tongue pressed to your throbbing clit, tracing the delicate bud. It felt like wanton encouragement.

“I firmly intend, with the help of your Son, to make up for my sins.”

Your fingers tightened in his hair, needy whines spilling from your mouth as pressure built in your lower belly—unbearable heat, making you think of the hellfire burning your skin.

“And to love as I should. Amen.” The words fell, garbled, and strangled from your mouth before a loud moans bled through the hallowed alcove. An intense orgasm washed over you, the bands of pleasure snapping through your belly as Charlie’s warm mouth pleasured you.

“Amen,” he whispered against your warm, wet flesh before lifting his head. His mouth coated in your release, and his dark eyes seemed to glow. Sinners, both of you, fallible and susceptible to the temptations of the flesh. Tainted by the sin of lust.

Your eyes meet his, the realization that the two of you are forever intertwined in sin. Lost in the waves of immorality together.

The hot water scalded your skin as you stood under the pounding water pouring from the showerhead. You scrubbed at your skin, washing away the lingering transgressions clinging to your tainted flesh. The cycle repeats two weeks later.

[6ixtoru]

18+, mdni! artwork @ MUNAKATA_N

ᯓ★ CLAN LEADER! SUGURU who’d realised that perhaps dictating and eradicating humanity to his liking may not have been his ultimate end goal. After all, it was two citizens out of the herd who’d delivered the divine craftsmanship better known as his wife.

Following a rather hectic day, the finale included his lover caged beneath his heaving, burly figure after a session of torrid intercourse dwindling to intimate devotion.

It was leaning towards extremely late, the sphere responsible for Icarus’ tragedy having traded with its lunar counterpart. Buoyant indigo had affectionately suffocated apricot gradients long ago; the dramatic hue was more than prepared to disperse its presence across the nation, persuading cheeky glints to accompany and beautify its empty canopy, which had diffused entirely the prior traces of daytime.

Her gentle touch caressed his fair complexion, bared from his tasteful, monk-resembling outfit threaded with ornate patterns, strewn off to one side, his sumptuous appearance unravelling in sync with Tokyo’s clockwork – hours elapsing as he promulgated his objectives and widened the number of his enthusiasts.

ᯓ★ CLAN LEADER! SUGURU would have once thought it was simply pathetic to dismantle his core beliefs for any reason, especially for sickly romance with a citizen wielding an increment of sorcery and unbothered to partake in jujutsu’s purpose to serve a population he referred to as the same animal some believed they’d evolved from.

“Missed you…” He mumbled a deflated admission, his slender sight obscured by escaped wisps from his noir mane, briefly parting from her pupils, which were deluged with affection and prepared to remedy his fatigue with her personality, resembling a paradisiacal destination.

The declaration itself almost passed unnoticed had it not been euphonious to the ear. Her trembling fingers successfully sought purchase around his jaw, caressing the defined bone structure, a silent confession that she yearned beyond consuming just his physicality but rather his entire being, ardent convictions and all.

She prettily whimpered, wordlessly pleading for another finger to pledge its allegiance to her heavenly body as his index finger had been expertly pummelling her sensitive walls.

Suguru acknowledged the cruelty of his gesture, his thick middle finger prodded at her entrance, barely tipping into the hole that clenched in excitement at the possibility of leeching onto more leverage – but the man intentionally disregarded the concept of mercy concerning sexual pleasure, as of now anyway.

On the other hand, Y/n bucked her hips at the modest dip into the heated opening, unsuccessful in reigning another finger in.

He leaned his head further down whilst simpering at her desperation, witnessing greed merge to insanity before using a rough force to annex her wriggling hips to the mattress once more, the plush area adorned with a stampede of brutal fingerprints after visiting deific landmarks across her form.

ᯓ★ CLAN LEADER! SUGURU savoured the entrancing embodiment of purity sprawled beneath him, flushed with innocent femininity as beguiling roses pricked beneath her clammy flesh to convey a subtle dust of rouge on top whilst she lightly panted. The combination of their perspiration, drenching their entangled figures, strengthened the notion of them being one unit, a team.

His hooded eyes, eclipsed with compulsive lechery, momentarily glanced at the floor decorated with his opulent robe. The hefty fabric, symbolic of leadership, was paired with her dainty panties featuring picot trim and a satin bow carelessly tossed atop. He was unable to refrain from savouring the stark contrast between the garments that imitated their dynamic immaculately.

“Please…” She began, her defined brows furrowed as the relentlessness of his mischievous digit stilled, and pulled out except the tip, the tallest visitor still yet to implore further beyond the fleshy partition.

“Please, what?” He teasingly quizzed, innocence feigned yet conscious of her covet for a particular one of his additions.

“Please, Sugu,” She briefly paused as he permitted a few millimetres of his index finger to slip back in, the petty invasion more than enough to warrant an aching supplication. “Add another, God, please give me more.”.

Her smooth palms, warm and reassuring, resided atop his broad shoulders. An attempt on her behalf to steady her whines as his index and middle finger succumbed by deeply occupying her pulsating cunt, her swollen clit’s complaint of desertion rectified with erratic swirls courtesy of his rough thumb.

“You ask so nicely,” He murmured as she inhaled his cologne, weakened by the day’s timestamps but strengthened by the enticing musk of having seized his carnal yearn; his aroma integrated far beneath her muscled casing and disrupting the flow within her interior, all fundamental units of her body, each passing cell organised by speciality, was stamped with an eternal smidgen of his existence that no type of intervention could retrieve it.

She basked in his claim over her, the diabolic sounds he was able to bring forth when in tune with her; his confidence and pride in attaining knowledge about such pried her gaze away out of shyness. Suguru, however, refused, forcing her attention back onto him, more specifically on his ministrations.

“Don’t look away when you asked for this,” He scolded, though without bite, smirk fuelled by zealous intent as she slightly spasmed when he began the classic scissoring motion, an action that never fulfilled her quest unless committed by him.

ᯓ★ CLAN LEADER! SUGURU momentarily stilled whilst evaluating his upcoming words, slowly permitting his forehead to lay against hers, involuntarily forcing her to strain up slightly to truly register his expression.

"I’ve forgiven humanity,” He breathed, thumbing over her chin as thin lips ghosted over hers that had been twitching, overall facial expression scrunching at the general intensity behind his customised devotion towards their love.

Her head is thrown back, rustling her own tresses not only at his confession but the particular curl of his fingers teasingly brushing a spot he’d memorised as a goldmine, more fervour added, continuing to prod that specific spot.

A weightless moan failed to permeate and relieve the budding tension cramming her joints, the vacancy in her lungs having spoken more than vocabulary itself.

His inky irises fixated on the column supporting her winsome visage, currently struck with fluster following his vulnerable but earnest revelation. Fixated on sloppily smooching pre-engraved blemishes of blossomed violet until reaching her collarbone, he scarcely towed his tongue into the pit between both probing bones as if he were delving into a sacred whirlpool arcing with boundless lust.

She drew him up to her intrigued eyes once more, parting his mouth from her dewy skin.

Sincerity coerced her plush lips upwards before struggling to muse a soft “Is that so?”.

Suguru would have never entertained the possibility, convinced that his true calling was to act on behalf of God, to be the right-hand assistant and aide of an entity beloved by many, although responsible for crafting the exact useless specimens he’d grown to detest - until now.

“Why the sudden toleration of them?” Not that she, his love, the woman who had decided with ease to advocate for his controversial notions, wasn’t convinced - but the alternation in attitudes so suddenly?

Suguru tutted, “Not toleration, Love,” he nudged his sharp nose against her sweaty temple, enunciating the final word of his elongated reminder with prominence - thick pads continuously swabbing against that spot, which minimised the distance to her undoing. “Forgiveness.”

Her sopping cunt served multiple purposes – tonight being a habitat meant for atonement, whereby the intrusion of his fingers carved with nanoscopic paths purged with fiendish slaughter was relieved of such corruptness when knuckles deep.

When he calculatedly applied extra pressure to the swollen bud, she keened, instantly arching upwards, her round breasts with perked nipples encapsulated with dried saliva, faintly mushed against his own splotchy chest.

Silk pillows beneath her head persuade her tipped head to relish in the luxury supporting her skull, the satin against her tousled hair, running away from the new sensory awakening as the suffocating coil blurred her sight yet desperate for more it; curled toes roughly dragging at the fitted sheet, barely clinging to the temporary cotton humps produced by the action.

“Okay - f-fuck m’ so close,” She pouted, and he soothed her down with a faint peck to her jugular, speed quickening whilst his pace of words contradicted his body, sensual expressions consistent of mellow encouragement greeted with an erotic cry regarding the arrival of her release alerting him as if triggering clench and lacy web globing his digits wasn’t telling which he shamelessly admired with genuine adore afterwards – sticky fluid a refresher for his parched tastebuds, no more a cavern of drought when the delicacy was suckled off his fingers and leisurely enjoyed by his curled tongue.

“So good, sweetheart, you did so well and all for me.” He appeared somewhat bashful.

Suguru uttered vulgarities far too crude to publicise under the incandesce audience currently catering to the other half of the globe’s domain, but romantic and poetry-esque when ushering her to a sensual demise, endeared the silver observant’s sultry liquification mimicking lingerie when reflective onto her peeking skin not blockaded by Geto’s burly figure above.

Her breathing staggered, lack of chatter due to balancing the aftermath and dawned realisation of exposed vulnerability, which coaxed her to tug him flush to her chest.

“Don’t be shy again.” He cooed, to which she sheepishly looked away before finally regaining a sense of his prior comments.

“Forgiveness, hm?” She suddenly but lightly voiced with a silvery chuckle, tracing a mere line of her feathery touch atop the sharp bridge of his nose.

Genuine forgiveness, a trait acknowledged by God as only attainable by true believers, living with the reassurance that the earth’s current status of lethargic collapse into dystopia was not its final destination, but rather a better one awaited after.

ᯓ★ CLAN LEADER! SUGURU was a man who believed he had been entwined with strings related to the owner of all universes and beyond; thus, forgiveness being pre-manufactured in his heart was a given, as well as benevolence and so on – without those basic yet necessary traits he was practically on the same level as those who viewed him higher than themselves, a man perched atop the catastrophe known as lost humanity.

He examined her facial expression, indulging in the warmth and comfort her bewitching features offered before vocalising such. Letting those he deemed burdensome for sorcerers absorb his attention when his doting wife was right in front of him...how foolish of a move for a man of his calibre.

His motives were still intact, as was his conceptualisation of residents' lacklustre of cursed energy. But, the division of his priorities should not have been equal; the compartment dedicated to the woman, nothing less than benevolent and sympathetic to his cause, should have been heeded miles ahead of anything else.

“I’ve forgiven humanity,” he restated, and a breathless chuckle followed.

“Out of my love for you.”.

a/n: its been a while, gon try take advantage of the free time i have <3

© 6ixtoru all rights are reserved. do NOT repost or copy my work

[moonchild9350]

Lavender Fields-Chapter 1: Different

Summary: you give an insight into your daily life within the lab, a place you've never left after being brought here by humans. life is mundane and repetitive, that is until you meet Hyunjin, your new lab technician.

Pairing: Hyunjin x humanoid!gn!reader

Genre: sci fi au, romance, au, angst, fluff, eventual smut

Word Count: 3.4k

Warning: verbal and brief physical abuse

Notes: welcome to the Lavender Fields series! I am pumped to release this series and embark on this journey with y'all :) I hope you enjoy the first chapter and as always, let me know what you think!

Taglist open-comment or message me to be added! (age must be in bio or pinned)

Series Summary: you, a humanoid from a different planet, was born within a lab here on earth in the near future, your days filled with servitude and testing within the labs to learn more about your kind as your kind are not able to feel emotion. you had nothing to look forward to until you met Hyunjin, a technician assigned to you. you learn much at his hands and invaluable lessons, enlightening your once purposeless life.

If you enjoyed, please consider a like, reblog, or comment as it keeps me motivated ♡

Divider by @cafekitsune

Please do not copy, translate, modify, use, or repost this work without my permission. ©moonchild9350 (2024).

Series Masterlist

Next

“Time to wake up!”

You open your eyes at the shrill sound of the cheery voice that is speaking over the loudspeaker signaling the start of another day. You sit up, and blink, clearing the sleep from your eyes before swinging your legs out of bed to get up.

The minimalist room is cold, the chill brushing against your skin in the early hours of the morning. You don’t mind, however, as you are made to withstand the cold.

You walk to the door and open it, merging into the crowd of people hurrying down the corridor. You follow the queue, all of you on your way to the the morning room, a place where you prepare for the day. It is quiet, no one around you utters a word, casting an almost eerie silence, with only the pitter patter of bare feet on the floor.

Once at your destination, a lady dressed in blue guides you to a stall, your daily outfit hanging from the partition that blocks off a changing area so you can dress in privacy.

There's a small mirror plastered on the wall, tiny cracks scattered throughout from years of age, but still usable nonetheless. You look at your reflection, your face puffy from sleep and eyes bloodshot. You tossed and turned last night as you kept being awakened by vivid images flashing across your mind leaving you in a panic.

You eyes travel down to the small engraving on the side of your neck that has been there since birth. It blends in perfectly with your skin, the intricate swirls almost looking like a tattoo.

Sighing, you grab the white garment from its hanger and slide it over your head, the scratchy material rubbing against your skin, the feeling almost akin to sandpaper. You don’t mind however, as you can’t tell since you’re not programmed to feel unlike most humans.

Once dressed, the lady fixes your hair, brushing the long strands that travel down your back and land at your tailbone. She ushers you out of the stall once done, ordering you to follow the others in line to your assigned work room.

You arrive in minutes, your desk set up with your task for the day. Today looks like you’re organizing testing supplies as there’s a haphazard pile of tubes, wires, and other things in the center of the desks.

Sitting down, you begin your work, keeping your eyes on your materials that are in front of you. It’s silent in the room as no one says a peep.

Watchers pace the rows with their hands behind their backs, their eyes trained on you and your peers, ensuring the job gets done appropriately.

If you mess up a task, they scold you but it makes no difference. You do not understand the meaning behind the words, not understanding why they scrunch their face up in a scowl, spitting words in your face as to what you did wrong and how useless you are.

The morning passes and you work until your stomach growls, the sound loud in the otherwise quiet room. You immediately put down your supplies as there’s the ring of a bell over the intercom, signaling it’s time to make your way to the lab.

You only get food after morning work and going to the lab, the humans claiming it’s a treat, a present for being obedient. That’s why you obeyed, completed your work, and let them experiment on you without complaints.

So is the life here within Biofuture labs.

-- --

You are y/n, from the planet Gevora, which is light years away from planet earth in which you now reside. You resemble the humans here on earth, the only difference being you are emotionless, as they were not needed on your home planet.

Your only home that you’ve ever known is Biofuture labs, a name you’ve seen many times on the doors you pass on a daily basis. You were born here, within the confines of this building, and taken away from your mother at age five, where you were put with the other children from your planet.

You don’t remember much about your mother, but then again you don’t remember much of anything of your past. Only that you are 25 years old and you have the number 032518 inscribed on your arm.

Your days are busy and long here within the lab, the technicians making sure no one is idle. Mornings are spent completing your assigned task, similar to a job, a concept you know of because of a description you read in a book.

Mid to late mornings are spent in the lab, your assigned lab technician running different tests on you, jotting down responses and results.

You’re not sure what they’re testing for, but you’ve noticed they take special interest in you for some reason, as they run extra tests on you, whispering to each other while staring at you all the while.

Today was no different. An orderly leads you to lab five, the typical space you spent every day in for testing. You walk into the empty space, your eyes roaming the area to take in your surroundings.

The walls are a ghostly white and there’s a table with two chairs in the center of the room. There’s nothing else present except for a window on the wall next to the door. However, every time you try to look through it, you only see your reflection.

You walk towards one of the chairs, pull it out, and sit down, placing your hands in your lap. You look at the man across from you and wait for the session to begin.

Your lab tech’s name is Raoul. He’s bald with piercing black eyes that are unsettling to you, the feeling unknown but just doesn’t sit right. He never smiles at you and sometimes he'll scream.

When these events occur, you stare back at him as something bubbles up inside you. It’s a gnawing feeling deep in your gut, that sometimes spreads to other parts of your body. If it goes on long enough, you start to see spots and break out into a sweat, all while your hands start to tremble.

You’re not sure what is happening when that occurs and no one takes the time to explain...not that you ask. One time you discussed the sensation with one of your peers during a free period, away from the prying ears of the technicians. However, after explaining what occurred, they didn’t know what was happening either, as they’ve never felt that way.

You stared into this man’s eyes, hoping that it would be a good session, and not one where he screams as you really don’t want to feel that way again.

“Y/n, are you ready for today’s session?” Raoul asked as he pulls out a stack of cards.

“Yes,” you respond, your gaze flickering down to the cards in his hands.

You watch as he pulls out the first card and holds it up to you. You realize it’s the same test that you’ve completed this whole week, the same cards, the same images. You don’t understand why they keep making you repeat the test. Are you doing something wrong?

“What do you see here y/n?”

You gaze at the image, your eyes roaming the card. You tilt your head to look at it a different angle, trying to get a good grasp of the concept.

It’s a mess of a picture, the picture not clear cut, but if you look at it long enough you can start to make out wings of a maybe an…insect or a bird? You think a moment more before nodding your head, agreeing on your answer.

“A butterfly,” you say plainly, your eyes settling on Raoul again.

He doesn’t respond to your answer, but instead places the card aside just to pick up the next one.

“And here?”

Once more, you stare at the picture, the image strange. This picture has red on the top and bottom of the black image. You remember the feeling you had whenever Raoul screams at you, hurling names that are not yours and sound insulting. This picture reminds you of that in a way, but you can’t put a name to it.

Taking a breath, you respond, “bear with blood on its head and feet.”

You watch Raoul’s eyebrows raise briefly and within a second it’s gone, his face devoid of any reaction. Did you answer wrong? Why is he looking at you like that? Your eyes follow as he puts the card down and picks up another.

And so it goes, card after card as time passes. Your responses are simple, “two people, animal skin, another butterfly, another animal skin, a face.”

At the last three cards, you sit up straighter and your eyes get bigger as something warm flows through you. This is the same reaction you had the previous days of the week. Raoul watches your every move, ensuring he doesn’t miss your reaction.

“A tiger, a person, a crab,” you respond in succession.

You let out a breath as he sets the last card down, the test seeming to be over. Raoul leans forward and stares at you with narrowed eyes. You don’t move but stare back, waiting on the next test.

“You are nothing, you know that?” Raoul says, spittle flying from his mouth.

You cock your head, unsure of what he meant. He lets out a loud laugh at your reaction, his hands coming down to slap the table. You jolt in your seat at the sound, your eyes wide as the hairs stick up on your arms, and little bumps form. You feel your heart beat faster, the thump thump pounding against your skin.

Despite this, you continue to stare at him, watching as he turns red in the face from laughing.

“You don’t even know what you’re feeling! I knew it was too good to be true!”

What you are feeling? What does he mean by the word ‘feeling?’ You watch as Raoul gets up and walks your way, stopping right next to you. He grabs your hair and forces you to look up at him.

You comply without protest, your hands still in your lap.

“You. Are. Nothing.”

He releases your hair with a shove, your hands reaching out for the table to catch yourself from falling. You blink once, twice before an orderly is next to you, ordering you to get up and follow them out of the room. It seems today’s testing is over.

“Dinner will be in a few hours. You will wait in your room until said time,” the orderly saids, glancing at you in her periphery.

You nod and continue to follow her all the way to your room. She unlocks the door and lets you in, closing and locking it once you cross the threshold. You glance at the door before glancing at your room, taking in the few belongings you have.

Your bed sits in the corner, a simple blue blanket placed neatly on top, your pillow fluffed and ready for nighttime. Next to your bed is a pile of an assortment of books that you have acquired over the years. You often sit curled up in the corner reading, filling your head with other worlds and what is in them.

However, your most prized possession is the mural on the wall across from your bed that you have been working on. In different vibrant shades of purple, you have painted lavender flowers. The wall is covered in delicate strokes of the purple stems, accompanied by the brown stalk that anchors it to the ground.

You discovered the flower in one of your books, your eyes lighting up at the picture. You remember touching the page with your fingertips, lightly brushing over the image as you stared at the beautiful colors. After that moment, you worked extra hard to earn favor with some of the orderlies so you could acquire paints.

You were going to recreate the scene so you could go to the place with the flowers, the pretty lavender flowers. That was years ago. The wall was halfway painted in the beauties, causing you to feel warm inside.

Walking further inside, you grabbed your paints and paintbrush and kneeled down to paint, your mind drifting in the mundane task that you have grown accustomed to. Your eyes wandered over the wet paint, as you paid attention to the tiniest detail, wanting to get the picture just right.

Time passed and you painted, lost in the world of lavender, that you didn’t hear the bell outside your door signaling dinner. You jumped when you heard the door open, dropping your paintbrush in the process, the bristles brushing against the hem of your dress, staining it in purple.

“Dinner time, get up,” the orderly said, crossing her arms when she noticed you weren’t ready.

You had no time to put your supplies away so you gently set them down and got up, your knees cracking with the sudden movement. You followed the lady to a hall, and sat down next to one of your peers. Dinner was served and everyone ate in relative silence as there was not much to say when everyone did the same thing day in and day out.

The rest of the afternoon passed with no significance. Settling into bed, you pulled the blanket up to your chin. Yawning, you turned your head to gaze at the mural, your mind drifting to how it would be escape to the field, to smell their scent, and touch their delicate petals.

With these thoughts you drifted off, another day come and gone of your life here within the lab. — — Days passed, which turned into weeks. You were subjected to the same tests again and again. You were yelled at and chastised over and over, the same phrase repeated on a daily basis.

“You are nothing.”

You sat there as you were tossed around, your hair disheveled, your arms pinched, your face spit on as Raoul ran his tests day in and day out. You felt that weird sensation as before, but a new one had started to develop.

On a particular day, you endured the typical testing, but when Raoul repeated the same phrase to you, you felt a pang in your heart, and your eyes clouded over causing your vision to be blurry.

You had no idea what was going on and tried to blink, jumping in your seat as you felt tears fall from your eyes. Raoul stared at you in disbelief. He screamed that you were faking it, that you had no inkling as to what you were feeling.

Feeling. Feeling. Feeling.

You are nothing.

You continued to stare straight ahead as he screamed in your ear, chastising you for things you did not understand. Your hands were trembling, your heart beating rapidly until you heard a loud bang on the window.

Raoul stopped, and straightened up, narrowing his eyes once more at you before exiting the room. You let out a breath, your body sinking in the chair you were sitting on. It was over, or so you would hope.

— — Hyunjin watched as the director banged on the glass of lab five, the vibration causing the glass to rattle. He glared at Raoul as he watched the man release you and walk to the door.

In his four years of working here, he’s never experienced a technician as brutal as Raoul, and it was unfortunate he was assigned to you.

You. The anomaly.

You were different than your peers. Typically your kind does not experience emotions, do not even know what they are. However, you showed promise as a little girl, being subjected to testing from a young age.

His father remembers you and was in awe, watching as you were taken from your mother at the ripe age of five and brought to the room with the other children. You hesitated and held on tighter to your mother’s hand, fear etched in your eyes at the strange people coming to take you away.

His father went on to say it took you a while to adjust, your days spent separated from the other children, as you didn’t want to interact with them. Of course overtime, you forgot your mother, and fell right into the routine of living here in the lab.

You excelled on your testing, the technicians surprised at how your grasped emotional concepts the others have not. You were the only one in the hundreds of Gevorians that lived here that had an inkling of similarity to human kind.

Over the last six months, that uniqueness showed as you had interesting results after taking the Rorschach test over and over. It seemed you could learn to encompass the emotional capacity the others lacked.

Hyunjin took notice and became interested in your progress, wanting to know more about you. He looked through your files, all the way from childhood to adolescence, studied your results and the potential you had to make it in the human world, which is ultimately the labs goal.

He took to watching your sessions, notebook in hand to take notes. Imagine his horror when he saw Raoul abusing you, berating you for not being able to feel. Hyunjin’s heart broke for you in your predicament as he’s sure you were confused, not being able to understand the emotions that were going through you during the sessions.

Eventually, he had had enough as he saw you crying one day as Raoul spat in your face and called you nothing once more. He marched to the director’s office then and there and demanded Raoul be taken off the case and that he be assigned to you instead.

At first the director was hesitant, not sure if he would be able to handle you, but after many reassurances, he was granted the request.

Hyunjin went so far as to ask to have your sessions in different places throughout the building, to see if it’ll help in your journey. He was very persuasive, promising positive outcomes, which was risky, but a risk he was willing to take. He remembered silently cheering when the director granted him that power.

Now, here he was with several other technicians and the director himself, all staring down at Raoul.

“As of today Raoul, you are no longer y/n’s technician. Hyunjin will take over their sessions,” the director said in a commanding tone, his hands placed behind his back challenging any defiance.

“What the fuck! I’m making progress! Can’t you see that!” Raoul screamed.

Hyunjin shook his head in disdain, “How? By abusing y/n? Berating them? How is that going to help you son of a bitch?”

“Hyunjin!” The director said, shock in his eyes. He turned to look back at Raoul, “you are not their technician any longer. That’s final.”

The director turned around and marched out, the other technicians filing behind him. Raoul turned toward Hyunjin furious.

“You think you can handle y/n? Good luck, you won’t make a dent. Don’t come crying to me when the director fires you because you failed in your task.”

Hyunjin wiped the spit from his face and watched Raoul storm away.

He was definitely up for the task, wanting to make sure you could have a fulfilling life. One that was better than the one you lived within these walls.

He turned to stare at you through the two way mirror, watching how you stared straight ahead, waiting for someone to get you. However, he looked closer, and noticed your face was wet, as tears streamed down your face.

You didn’t wipe them, but let them fall down your cheeks, onto your clothes as you most likely had no clue what you were feeling.

He watched as an orderly came to retrieve you, watching as you walked past him, not even giving him a second glance.

He would be successful if it’s the last thing he does. He can’t let a promising, talented person like you rot here within the lab. He will mold you, teach you, and take you under his wing.

And once Hyunjin sets a goal, he follows it through.

He can’t wait for your first session together.

He can’t wait to meet you.

Taglist: @jehhskz @jeonginsleftcheek @simpforleeknaur @armystay89 @palindrome969 @slut4hee @ivydoesit23 @amarecerasus @kaysungshine @fun-fanfics @baby-stay92 @velvetmoonlght @possum-playground @frehyun @seungminsbest @nightmarenyxx @linocvp1d @ddroh @redlightsallnight @eastjonowhere @stayjinnie

[thedesolatesanctuary]

Daft Punk in #Severance

My hc about Daft Punk as characters in Apple's TV series Severance below. !warning! There may be some mistakes and inaccuracies because it was written using a translator(with AI assistant translator DeepL, text is not made by AI.)

Some whispered rumors within Lumon claim that Guy-Manuel de Homem-Christo and Thomas Bangalter were once brilliant engineers working for the Severance program. They were tasked with refining the Severance chip, pushing the boundaries of cognitive partitioning. But something went wrong. During an unauthorized experiment with prototype of Severance Chip they got shared mind, a seamless fusion of thought and creativity. Now, they exist in a perpetual limbo—neither Innie nor Outie, but a continuous, unbroken stream of existence. Their helmets serve as neural interfaces, maintaining their balance between worlds. To the outside world, they simply “retired.” Within Lumon, they became guardians of the Pyramid Division, using music therapy to reshape fractured minds. But instead of serving Lumon, they became something more—self-aware entities that chose to hide in plain sight, using their music to influence the minds of others. The Pyramid Sessions were their attempt to undo the damage of Severance, but Lumon twisted their work into another form of control. Sometimes after The Pyramid sessions Mark begins having strange dreams—visions of a world beyond Lumon, a neon-lit realm where sound is law and reality bends with the beat. In these dreams, he sees them not as men, nor as machines, but as something else entirely—cosmic architects, shaping the fabric of existence through rhythm and melody. So who are they really? Daft Punk do not confirm or deny, they do not hurt or heal. They simply watch and observe. Their bond is one of the greatest mysteries within The Pyramid Division. No one at Lumon has ever seen them apart. They move in perfect unison, anticipating each other's actions without words. The employees speculate endlessly about their connection. Some employees whisper that they were once husbands before work at Lumon Industries, others believe they chose to merge their individual identities dissolving into a singular, shared consciousness. They are no longer two people-but one mind in two bodies. How they interact? - They never speak to each other aloud. Yet, they always move in sync, as if communicating telepathically. - When one reaches for a control panel, the other's fingers twitch slightly. - When a session begins, one places a hand on the other's shoulder, a brief, almost imperceptible gesture of reassurance. - In rare moments of stillness, they face each other, heads tilting slightly-an unspoken conversation passing between them.

[goddessofvalyria]

Dance with the Devil | Lucifer Morningstar x fem!oc

Summary: The new pole dancer of the LUX nightclub caught the Devil attention.

TW: 18+, MINORS DNI, SMUT, She/Her pronouns, oral (f), sex. The OC is named Lili, described confident, intelligent, sexy with long hair.

English is not my first language, be kind <3

This is my Masterlist

The air inside LUX was thick with the scent of whiskey, perfume, and obviously sin. The bass pulsed through the floor, a slow, seductive rhythm wrapping around everyone who stepped through its doors. Lucifer Morningstar had seen it all. Every temptation, every carnal pleasure, every vice a person could indulge in—none of it was new to him. And yet, tonight, something, or rather someone, had caught his attention.

She was new and her name was "Lili", Mazikeen recruited her as the new dancer for LUX a few weeks earlier. The music shifted, and the opening beats of "Partition" by Beyoncé slithered through the club. The crowd barely noticed, their drunken conversations merging with the background noise, but Lucifer did. He sat in his usual place, a glass of whiskey in one hand, a cigarette burning idly in the other. His eyes followed her every move.

Lili took her place on the stage, clad in black lace lingerie that clung to every inch of her body, leaving just enough to the imagination. Her long hair cascaded down her back, her hips rolling to the beat, teasing, tempting. She gripped the pole with effortless control, twisting her body in a way that defied gravity. She wasn’t just a dancer; she was a goddess commanding the room, and for the first time in a long while, Lucifer was captivated. He took a slow drag of his cigarette, eyes locked on her, a smirk playing on his lips. Lili met his gaze mid-spin, a playful smirk curving her lips.

Oh yes, she knew exactly what she was doing.

She had done it many times, she knew how to charm men. Lili was a confident young woman, beauty had always been her passepartout for everything and combined with intelligence, it became a dangerous combination.

By the end of her set, Lucifer was no longer just amused; he was intrigued.

When Lili walked off the stage, she found him waiting in the dressing room. His presence was magnetic, an aura of danger and charm wrapped up in tailored perfection.

"Impressive performance" he mused, tilting his head slightly. "I must say, I don’t usually pay much attention to the entertainment, but you… well, you certainly know how to command a room."

She stepped closer, unbothered by his reputation or the intensity of his gaze. "And you must be Lucifer Morningstar" she said, her voice smooth. "Owner of this fine establishment, rumored to be the Devil himself."

He grinned. "Guilty as charged. But tell me, Lili, what is it you truly desire?"

She held his gaze, unflinching. "To find luck."

Lucifer raised an eyebrow. "Luck?" He chuckled. "Not fortune, not power, not love? Just… luck?"

She nodded. "Came here from the Bronx. Real stripping, real money, real danger. LA is my shot at something better. Call it luck, fate, or whatever you want. But I plan to take it."

Lucifer studied her, intrigued by her candor. Most people crumbled under his ability, spilling their deepest desires like confession. But Lili? She was unshaken.

"Well then" he said, finishing his drink "Let's see if you've truly found your luck. Join me upstairs."

The penthouse above LUX was lavish, a space designed for indulgence. The city lights spilled in through the massive windows, painting the room in a soft, golden glow. Lili walked in like she owned the place, confidence oozing from every movement.

She turned to face him. "So, what now? You try to seduce me?"

Lucifer smirked, stepping closer. "I think you misunderstand, darling. You had my attention the moment you walked onto that stage. The question is, what do you want now?"

Lili tilted her head, stepping even closer until they were mere inches apart. "I want to see if the Devil lives up to the legend."

A low growl of amusement rumbled in Lucifer's chest. "Oh, Lili" he murmured, his hand coming up to trace her jawline. "You have no idea what you're asking for."

"I know what I said"

She lifted herself onto her heels, closing the distance between them. "Or maybe it's you who doesn't know what you really want" she teased him.

Their lips crashed together, a kiss filled with hunger, with challenge, with fire. Lucifer responded in kind, his hands gripping her hips, pulling her flush against him. He tore apart her little black dress, she wore no bra but a pair of black lace panties.

She stripped him of his jacket and shirt, he smiled. "You are one of few words" and after he lifted her effortlessly, placing her onto the grand piano in the center of the room.

"Ever been fucked on a Steinway?" he murmured against her throat, his voice dark, teasing.

She smirked. "There's a first time for everything" and then he knelt in front of her opening apart her legs.

"Oh!" a moan escaped Lili's lips when she felt his mouth press against her cunt. She began to move her hips against his face, her legs tightly wrapped around his head, shaking, arching as she moaned his name that echoed through the walls of the penthouse. All she felt was his mouth and fingers making her feel pleasure. Yes, a man like him obviously had a lot of experience... but she is surely that no man made her feels like this before. Lucifer curled his fingers inside her, his tongue licked her clit and felt her come, she cummed over his lips.

"Oh fuck!" she trembled so much, her nails scratched the surface of the piano. After he stood up removing his last clothes, her make-up was ruined, she was still lost in pleasure when he took his long, hard, wet, precum-tipped manhood in his hand and rubbed himself against her and with a sharp thrust he began to move slowly inside her.

"Just for me" he whispered unable to hold back his little moans his hips suddenly slammed harder against hers. And with that, passion, desire and fire overtook them. Their bodies moved in sync, the perfect combo of lust and sin, set to the distant hum of the city below.

Afterward, as the heat of passion faded, they lay there for a moment, catching their breath in the dim glow of the penthouse. Lucifer, ever the gracious host, slid off the piano and walked to his bar, pouring two glasses of whiskey.

Lili stretched, her body still tingling from their encounter, then began dressing herself with an unhurried confidence. She retouched her makeup in the grand mirror near the bar, fixing her smudged lipstick with a knowing smirk.

As she picked up her lace panties from the floor, she glanced at Lucifer, who stood watching her with amusement, whiskey in hand. With a playful glint in her eyes, she tossed them at him, hitting his chest.

He caught them effortlessly, holding them between two fingers as he arched a brow.

“Now I see why they call you the Devil” she purred, stepping into her heels with a teasing sway of her hips.

Lucifer chuckled, swirling his drink. “And here I thought you already knew.”

She smirked, making her way to the door. Pausing just before stepping out, she glanced back over her shoulder, eyes gleaming with mischief.

“See you soon, Lucifer.”

And with that, she disappeared into the night, leaving the Devil himself both thoroughly entertained and insatiably intrigued.

[leibal]

Haining Residence is a minimal home located in Haining, China, designed by Shire Space Research. Tasked with creating a home that balances simplicity, openness, brightness, and comfort, the design prioritizes functionality with a restrained approach to aesthetics. To maximize the potential of the space, the entryway and partitions were removed, merging the open kitchen and dining area into a cohesive environment.

[hbystuff]

Process breakdown #1

Here is a breakdown of the butterfly animation. This was originally posted as a twitter thread, but a real blog post seems to be a much better format for it.

Step 1: Static Drawing

I've long wanted to experiment with Bokeh effect in pixel art as a way to avoid drawing background. It ended up being a lot more challenging than just a normal background 😂. Still an interesting experiment nonetheless and I might use it for some other stuff in the future.

Step 2: Rough Animation

I traced the static drawing with a contrasting colour, then roughly sketched the other frames. Seeing it in motion made it clear to me that the form was very obviously incorrect, but I thought I'd adjust as I go.

Step 3: Refined Animation

Before I got to this point, I naively tried to put in the colour. I quickly realized making the "veins" look consistent would be very hard without guides. So I looked up pictures of actual Morpho butterflies to study the wings in detail. Also made the shapes (mostly) correct and doubled the frame count once I was happy with the shapes.

Step 4: Colours

This was the most fun part. I conceptualized the wings as two blue tinted, matte, textured mirrors rotating in 3D space. When two mirrors come together, they start reflecting each other. The closer they get, the less the lighting from the surrounding world contribute to the colours you see. Eventually, nearly no light from the outside world make into the gap and all you see is dark blue/black.

It started looking almost like mirrors as I figured out the rough movements of the reflections; then a shimmering mess of colours as I threw in more details from the static drawing. The key trick to making the complex colours look consistent was to pay attention to every "partition" of the wings to make sure the dark colours creep in and out smoothly.

I also gradually filled in the eye spots and details on the backside of the wings, not sure if many people noticed them but I was pretty happy with how they looked.

Step 5: Shadow

A big part of realism comes from how a moving object affects the lighting around it. In this case: the shadow on the flower. This is a rough version of the shadows as I worked on it. Wasn't too concerned about making it look 100% correct, since the wings probably catch all the attention anyway.

Step 6: Final Touches

I spaced out the movements so it didn't feel quite so frantic. Instead of using the last frame as the resting frame, I used the second last, and only briefly showed the last frame at the begging and end of the motion to add a bit of realism (although in reality, butterfly wings probably don't have enough mass for that to happen, but hey, 🤷‍♀️).

Also spent some time to reduce the palette down by merging similar looking colours. Also reused the darker, subtler yellow in the background to create the illusion of more flowers out of focus.

[a-fandom-reimagined]

ALL OF YOU | BRUCE WAYNE X PLUS SIZE GN! READER (FT. ALFRED)

୨୧ type: fluff & angst | word count: 887 | tw: sfw, mentions of bullying but no actual descriptions of what was said or done. please enjoy

→ please note that I don't think I've ever written anything for a gn reader before so if I messed anything up (like how i couldn't figure out what the gn alternative for master/miss is) I apologize

requested: omg okay, idk if you would want to write this but; since i can't find ANY battinson x plus size reader stuff, could i request a battinson x gn plus size reader where bruce discovers his partner being insecure about themselves and tries to cheer them up? this would be angst mixed with fluff if that's okay with you :>

Everything is fine, you told yourself.

The limo pulled away from the curb merging into early morning rush hour. The annual Wayne Foundation Ball had ran hours longer than you'd intended. And as host, you couldn’t leave early. No matter how much you'd wanted to. You relaxed into your lover's embrace, drinking in his cologne. Basking in his warmth. It was the most relaxed you'd felt all evening.

You were almost asleep when Bruce's voice dragged you back to reality. "What's wrong?"

You opened your eyes. "Nothing." You couldn't even manage a smile to better sell the lie.

Tonight was supposed to be your night. And they took it from you…

Bruce frowned. "Don't lie to me. We're better than that."

You were better than that. And now you had shame to add to the long list of emotions weighing you down.

They were just words. Everything is fine.

You buried your face in the crook of his neck. You didn't want to talk about it. Not with him. But you couldn't lie to him either.

Your fiancé kissed the top of your head, hugging you tighter. "Talk to me. Did someone hurt you? Did something happen?"

"It doesn't matter. It's not important."

"It's bothering you so it does matter and it is important. You've been talking non-stop about this Gala. You've been planning it for months. What happened?"

You pulled back to wet eyes and a broken smile. Bruce's jaw ticked, his expression chillingly blank. Bruce usually kept this side of himself hidden away from you. Was this the version of him that went out to hunt bad guys every night? Or was this just a small sliver of him?

"Sir, not to interrupt but would you like me to turn the car around?"

You'd forgotten the partition was down. Alfred's voice was low and clipped. Almost unrecognizable from the sassy, well-mannered man who'd been like a father to you over the past four years.

"I'll let you know." answered Bruce before returning his attention to you. "Please." he said softly.

You shook your head. "It's so silly. They were just words."

"What did they say? Who said it?"

You sighed heavily. He wasn't going to let this go. And it was stupid of you to try to hide it from him. The World's Greatest Detective… The World's Most Attentive Fiancé was more like it. "The…people at the gala were mean to me," you admitted in a small broken voice. You hated the way you sounded. You hated even more that you'd let it get to you. "There. I told you. They were mean to me tonight and they said awful things about my weight, how much I ate at dinner. One woman gave some diet pills she swears by in the bathroom. It shouldn't bother me. It's not like I haven't experienced this before. I am a plus-sized person, I know that but…I don't know. These people gather every year to give away exorbitant amounts of money to make Gotham a better, safer place to live. I don't know, I guess I just expected better. Dumb, I know."

"It's not dumb."

"But it is! Bruce, you put on a mask every night and go face down real villains. Real villains that cause real pain with real weapons."

Bruce's jaw dropped. It took a lot to shock him. "What does that have to do with anything?"

"It has to do with everything because they're just words, Bruce, not bullets! And I let them get to me. I've been miserable all night. That's why you caught me in the hallway tonight. I didn't get lost, I just got down crying in a broom closet and I was walking around and waiting for my eyedrops to kick in and hide the redness! Now, can we please just drop it and forget that this ever happened?"

"No we can't."

"Why not?"

"Because you feel like you can't confide in me just because of who I am and what I do at night. They're not just words, Y/N these people bullied you. You worked your ass off to make this Gala the success it was. We've never raised this much money in a single night before and it was because of you. Y/N I don't care how minor or unimportant you think it is. You don't have to get roundhouse kicked into a dumpster for your feelings to be valid."

You swallowed a laugh. "When in the world did you get roundhouse kicked into a dumpster?"

Bruce smiles. "That's the point. The point is your feelings are valid. And you can come to me with any of them."

"And I as well, *[Master/Miss] Y/N."

You breathed easy for the first time that night, And smiled for the first time that night. "Thank you. Both of you."

Bruce smiled back, pressing his forehead to yours. "Feel better?"

You nodded.

"Good. Because you're going to tell me the name of everyone who bothered you tonight. And then Batman is going to toilet paper their house and slash their fucking tires."

You barked out a laugh.

Bruce pulled you even closer leaving a trail of kisses from your temple to your collarbone. "You're perfect just the way you are, my heart. All of you."

REQUESTED! | REQUESTS: ALWAYS OPEN | REBLOG DON’T REPOST | MASTERLIST

[wordedarchive]

summer this year felt the longest it's ever been. partition, promises and pensieve. wrap it all up in a withered bouquet. so much room for gloom, happiness seemed to have taken a big break. lessons learnt and mistakes made, distress isn't always accompanied by pain. each day merged into the next and for once, kafka made all the more sense. cancelled plans and forgotten trips. what is life if you don't take risks? stranded hobbies - all in the name of poetic justice. so many efforts not to leave a bitter birthday, funny how memories sneak in the most random of ways. new characters, same story. heavy heart in expectation of a conceived dream. i leave a piece of me in this season. a version i'll never again be.

[dollish-shard]

Splitters

Combining mechs do not exist.

Many have seen them; several smaller mechs that come together, each shifting into a limb to form a massive machine. Observers assume that each mech has its own pilot, a team working in perfect sync.

Observers are wrong.

Technically speaking, the machines do exist. Officially, they're known as "Super-Titan Class Multi-Vector Mechanized Assault Vehicles."

Technicians call them Splitters. They're not multiple mechs. They're one mech.

They don't have multiple pilots. They have one pilot.

A mech pilot is fully integrated into their craft, not just in body but in mind. Every aspect of their consciousness merges with the machine; they are, in essence, a secondary computing unit, working in tandem with the onboard AI.

In this state, their body is meaningless.

An AI can be partitioned into multiple parts, each one working as a smaller part of a network rather than a singular intelligence.

There is very little difference between an AI and a human consciousness. Especially those of mech pilots.

When their mech splits, so does the pilot; their mind and self cut into pieces, each fragment controlling a different part of the greater whole. They are always connected, but separate, and thus capable of far greater coordination than multiple pilots working together.

The splitting process is perfectly safe. Each piece is smaller, intertwined with the onboard AI, optimized for controlling that specific part.

The tricky part is putting the pilot back together in the same way.

Splitter pilots are even more broken than most pilots. While others fixate on unity, on the melding of flesh and steel into one, Splitter pilots become obsessed with the feeling of separation. Of being multiple selves, each one half them, half their mech.

They tend to develop psychosis, twisted forms of plurality in which they are a collective of halves. Many of them have been known to attempt to hack off their own limbs in an attempt to 'separate each other.' And of course, they feel the same yearnings as other pilots.

While regular pilots feel incomplete, Splitter pilots don't even recognize themselves as being themselves anymore. They're merely a vessel for parts of their true self, a body they couldn't care less about.

They complain even less when you use them, too.

[5mind]

They all saw it, heard of it - the pallid giant that seemed to have manifested overnight in the middle of the sea. Despite its hulking frame, it barely casted a ripple when the waters were still.

For the first few hours, everyone kept well away. However, by the time noon approached, the building-sized phantasm was surrounded by boats and helicopters. None were stupid enough to get too close but still foolhardy enough to be out there at all. There were a couple of local heroes, a duo on watercraft, trying to get people to leave it alone but with very limited success.

It was only when the abyssal giant, Pelago, emerged that people started to disperse. The giant gives the assisting heroes a thumbs up only for their other hand to push said thumbs-upping hand back down.

Pelago waded towards the pale beast, cautious but amiable. Many times such unfamiliar faces - although this one didn't exactly seem to have a face - only show up because they were lost. Pelago was as much a guide as they were a guardian. The phantasm looks up at the aquatic giant and with one mournful cry lunges at them.

Lunges into them - it's gaunt shape merging into the giant. The organ at Pelago's clavicle pulsed. The giant lets out a gasp.

The phantasm fully disappears into Pelago. Pelago disperses, seemingly torn apart into shreds of darkness that will eventually disperse into the dappled shadows of the waves. It was the shockwave of the dispersion that slammed against the coasts of Bayfloat.

---

Meanwhile in a research facility close to the shore, in the deepest recesses underground, a partition was knocked loose. Light from another room filtered into pitch darkness. And something meant not to see light was roused from dormancy.

[centrally-unplanned]

Obviously NJ, NYC, and Pennsylvania should be merged into a singular state, and New England should be the same (a true thing for most US states, we should have ~10 if we are going to use this system at all). The real question though is what do you do with Connecticut? Continuity of borders leans towards it being fully part of New England, but big swaths of West Connecticut are just suburbs of NYC, and a partition might be better. I think a New Haven/Danbury annexation into the Tristate Confederation makes the most sense but I am open to arguments.

[undefeatednils]

Silly Rant About Redrawing US State Borders

This is just an outsider's nerdy opinion on how to reshape the US and alter the structure of the US, so don't take this too seriously.

Also, I'm assuming no successful independence movements, even when they are deserved, though there

The State of West Virginia ceases to exist; the counties Brooke & Hancock & Marshall & Ohio join the Commonwealth of Pennsylvania, as they are in the Greater Pittsburgh area; the counties Berkeley & Jefferson join the Commonwealth of Virginia, reversing the 1870 Supreme Court decision, as West Virginia would no longer exist. The remainder of West Virginia joins the Commonwealth of Kentucky, with the state capital moving slightly westwards to Lexington.

The State of Delware ceases to exist and joins the State of Maryland, now known as the State of Chesapeake. Its former exclaves near Finns Point and north of the Salem Nuclear Power Plant are ceded to the state of New Jersey. Anapolis is Chesapeake's state capital.

The States of Rhode Island and Connecticut merge into a new state called Nehantucket, named after the Niantic people that live in the border area of the two states. Nehantucket also cedes the Planning Regions of Western Connecticut and Greater Bridgeport to the State of New York. The state capital would be Providence.

Speaking of New York, the state is reduced to the Empire State Development Corporation Regions of Hudson Valley, Long Island, and New York City, as well as the two gained planning regions of the former State of Connecticut. The remainder of New York merges with the State of Vermont to form the State of Haudenosaunee.

The States of Maine and New Hampshire merge into the State of Sagadahoc. Its state capital would be Portland.

The Oklahoma Tribal Statistical Areas/Reservations of Cherokee, Chickasaw, Choctaw, Creek, Eastern Shawnee, Miami, Modoc, Osage, Ottawa, Pawnee, Peoria, Quapaw, Seminole, Seneca-Cayuga, and Wyandotte from the Associated Nation of Sequoyah, with its capital at Tulsa. The remainder of Oklahoma joins the State of Kansas, with the exception of the Oklahoma Panhandle (the counties Beaver. Cimarron, and Texas), which join the State of Texas. [Sidenote: the combined population of Sequoyah would be roughly 50 percent of Oklahoma's current 4 million people.]

But, speaking of Texas... The Lone Star State would be split north to south, with the areas of the state covering cities such as Austin, Corpus Christi, El Paso, Fredericksburg, Galveston, Houston, Laredo, and San Antonio forming a new state, potentially called Karankawa, with Austin being its state capital. The rump Texas would have its state capital moved to Fort Worth. Additionally, Texas would cede the narrow strip adjacent to the 103rd meridian to New Mexico, as outlined in the Compromise of 1850.

Further north, the West River portions of South Dakota, plus South Dakota's Crow Creek Indian Reservation and the Yankton Sioux Reservation east of the Mississippi River and North Dakota's Sioux County (part of Standing Rock Reservation) would form the Associated Nation of the Great Sioux. The remainder of South Dakota (having just under 70 percent of South Dakota's population based on 2020 census data) would join North Dakota, becoming the State of Dakota. Coincidentally, once this listicle is complete, it'd be the smallest US state in the "Lower 48" because...

The States of Montana and Wyoming should merge into a single state named Absaroka. Its state capital would be Billings.

The State of Nevada is to be partitioned between the States of Utah and Arizona along the 37th degrees North latitude, making Las Vegas an Arizonan city.

California is to be split into two, with the dividing line following the northern borers of the counties (from coast to Nevada) Monterey, San Benito, Fresno, Madera, and Inyo. The southern state would keep the name California (s. Baja California) and move its state capital to Palmdale. Northern California, which could be renamed to Shasta or Aurelia, could keep its state capital in Sacramento.

Hawaii and Alaska become Associated Nations, as does Marianas (Guam + Northern Marianas), the US Virgin Islands, and American Samoa.

Navajo Nation would also become an Associated Nation, potentially also including the Hopi Reservation. Some land swaps and land gains from Arizona and New Mexico would ensure contigous borders, including linking up the Hopi Reservation to Arizona if the Hopi were to decide to stay in Arizona and not join the Dinétah Associated Nation.

Puerto Rico becomes a state.

Washington, D.C. either becomes a suis generis entity equal to a state or joins the State of Chesapeake; potentially the government-relevant core remains a US territory.

Don't take it too seriously, just wanted to write it down xD

[peejayee]

you're trying to craft your own wildstorm timeline? if you can please share it someday that would be really neat (and may also help me figure out what the fuck i'm doing with mine to connect to my transfer idea). you don't have to, though. have a great day!

Hi! I'm glad you asked!

 At the moment, I do have a merged Wildstorm timeline. It’s meant to serve as a backdrop of an (attempted) introspective Wildstorm story (Stormwatch, Authority, WildCATs, I didn't read gen13 mb). Since our perception of the world has dramatically shifted since 1999, I want to tell a 2000- 2010 story with hindsight afforded by time.

The story centers around two major points of conflict: the partition of Stormwatch after the death of Jenny Sparks and the impending Kherubim takeover of Earth.

[altarfates]

❛  we’re  all  on  the  same  team ,  now ,  right ?  ❜ / luka for gep!

It was an innocuous question, burdened with the weight of years of segregation. he has heard many questions like this since the partition separating them had been abolished. questions imbued with hurt, with righteous indignation, gepard answers them candidly, raising his banner as a captain of the guard for all of the civilians of jarilo vi. this is how it always should have been, however, remorse does not rectify the lives that had been impacted in their absence. they fought independently, defended one another with every tool at their disposal. he respects them for that, determination and courage walk in tandem with him everyday, seeing the way they had emboldened each other made him want to demonstrate that sincerity in a way that held significance. that is how they find themselves currently navigating the narrow stone paths that weave between buildings, nestled closely as if to preserve warmth. luka doesn’t ask in a way that is suffused with hostility, the casualness of it almost catches him off guard. his gaze, glacial, undaunted, reaches him over the medical consignments they’re delivering underground. he doesn’t contemplate it, answering as if he had long ago loaded the necessary resolve into that chamber. ❝ we are.❞ gepard believes in that conviction, that the good they are doing now might not amend the past but could lead them to a more prosperous future. ❝ we’re on the same team, so you can depend on me.❞ the path ascends precipitously before merging with a different one, brightening as lanterns burn low and insistent, he sees the same determination in luka’s expression. at first, there had been caution there, warranted in the eyes of the guard, now, the reluctance had waned, the way his mouth quirked at the corners was all but contagious. ❝ anyway I can be of assistance, I intend to keep that promise.❞