#Starfield Au

[a-cosmic-elf]

I really hate everything about this playthrough, except for the suit. The high-mirror suit is stunning. I feel like Mando in this thing.

Apart from that, this AU blows, the story is awful, I also elected to go it alone, and the effing Hunter and Emmisary teamed up against me! So don’t do that, always pick a side.

Which ultimately doesn’t mean shit, and the is the single most annoying thing about the regular narrative tbh. I hate choices that are meaningless in the end. But I digress!

Finally, after a very frustrating fight I’ve landed at the buried temple. Time to kiss this accursed timeline goodbye. And good riddance! (I hope the next suit is as nice as this one).

[therealgchu]

Anamnesis - The Crush

new story up for Anamnesis called The Crush. it's the story of sam bringing home his crush when he was 15.

as keeping with the image above, this is all very sweet and wholesome. i mean, c'mon, the kid is 15.

btw, if you're wondering what anamnesis means, it's greek, and generally means recalling of memory.

if you want to read the first in the series, it's here on ao3.

the rest of my stuff is here.

being 15 sucks sneak peek

Despite having the desk furthest from the classroom door, Sam was the first out when the lunch bell rang. He almost sprinted to Chunks and got his usual lunch order: eggs, beef, chicken, potato, special sauce, and cheesecake for dessert. He then dashed to the top of the city walls where he could assemble his grotesque sandwich in peace, and imagine he was out past Akila City finding things Solomon had never found. All of the guards knew him, and since he didn’t cause any trouble up there, they let him be.

“Hey,” a voice said behind his back. He whipped his head around and saw Joe, hands shoved in his pocket looking out at the view. “You come up here a lot?” Joe asked.

“Yeah,” Sam grunted.

“Nice. Nice view. Beats that shitty schoolyard.”

“Yeah.”

“So, a Coe, huh?” Joe asked, cocking his eyebrows.

Sam blushed again, “It’s not a big deal, OK?”

“Yeah, I get it. Family sucks,” Joe said.

Sam nodded. “Yeah, it does.” He paused, looking out past the walls, “You cool? I mean about me being a Coe?” he asked.

Joe shrugged. “Can’t help who your family is. We’re cool.”

“Good, good,” Sam nodded.

Joe moved to stand beside Sam, causing Sam to have an explosion of butterflies in his stomach. The other boy looked at Sam’s food and scrunched up his face. “What are you eating?” he asked disgustedly.

Sam grinned, “The Sam Special. Your favorite Chunks, smash them together, little bit of secret sauce, and you get the best damn sandwich this side of the Settled Systems,” he said proudly.

“Oh god, you eat that shit?” Joe asked in disbelief.

“It’s great! Try it!” Sam offered the Sam Special to Joe. “I dare ya,” he added.

“This is your lunch?”

“Every day,” Sam said proudly.

Joe eyed the food warily. He picked up the sloppy concoction, and took a small bite, and immediately gagged. “Oh, god!” Joe exclaimed, spitting out the food over the other side of the wall.

Sam laughed uproariously, “You gotta have a stronger stomach than that!” he roared, shoving the rest of the “Sam Special” in his mouth. Joe took out a Boom!Pop pouch and drank the whole thing down in one draft. “What do you have for lunch?” he asked the other boy.

Joe pulled out a wrapped up sandwich from his coat pocket. Despite being squashed, it was clear that it was nicely wrapped and well made. The boy unwrapped it, and Sam could see that it was a reuben. His mouth started watering. “My mom still makes me lunch. Pretty lame,” Joe said. He saw Sam’s eyes, and offered half the sandwich to him. “Here,” he said.

Sam’s hand started to move, but then held back. “Are you sure?” he asked.

“Yeah, I’m sick of them. She makes them every day. Go ahead.”

Sam gladly took the sandwich and wolfed it down. “It’s only me and my old man, and he’s a terrible cook,” Sam said, his mouth full of sandwich.

“Where’s your mom?” Joe asked.

Sam swallowed the remaining sandwich and looked down, running his hands through his long hair. “Umm,” he started.

“Oh man, she run off or something?” the other boy asked.

Sam shook his head, “No, she died when I was seven.”

“Shit, I’m really sorry. That sucks.”

Sam shrugged, looking at the horizon, “It’s not a big deal,” he said, trying to be cool.

Joe slapped him on the back, “No, man, really. That sucks bad. I bitch about my mom, but she’s actually OK. I’d miss her if she was gone.”

Sam smiled gratefully at the other boy. “Thanks, dude.”

“Not a problem. Just, don’t make me eat that shit any more,” Joe said and play punched Sam in the shoulder.

[fangbangerghoul]

Hello my mutuals! This is another episode of WIP WEDNESDAY! Where I tag a bunch of you and share a little piece of one of my current WIPS! (as usual no obligation to post but I like to tag as many as the writers/readers as I can!)

Tagging: @bearlytolerant, @a-cosmic-elf, @aislingdmdt, @therealgchu, @spookyspecterino, @thatsgoodsquishy0, @atonalginger, @silurisanguine, @eridanidreams, @staticpallour, @toxiclizardwrites, @lisa-and-shadow, @samcoesclub, @5oh5, @booburry, @seraaphiel, @aro-pancake, this is a queued post so if you have already been tagged, please forgive me.

Under the cut will be a current gn!readers starfield AU project! I have alluded to what I was working on before in our Comrade Coe's Discord Server but I think for this one I would like to leave some people guessing! (don't fret I don't think it will be too hard to guess if you are familiar with my previous work)

I recently organized my fanfiction and made a Sam Coe Fic Masterpost! Feel free to check it out and enjoy my one shots and parts of my OC's series. I soon will make a Delgado edition as well!

I am still working on Chapter 9 of Fleeting Pleasures! Currently the band I've been listening to while I write is Type O Negative if that offers any context to the vibes that might exist within this upcoming chapter. Feel free to catch up on the series if you haven't already because after chapter 9, we only have the final chapter left!

I hope you enjoy the small snippet below and feel free to still tag me in your posts so I can see everyone's lovely work! Happy writing!

The night was still young as you walked arm in arm with some of your close friends. The four of you started the night bar hopping and dancing but now you all agreed it was time to change up the vibes. You already felt a little ditzy from all the fruity frozen drinks you have sipped on but you were ready for the next endeavor. The cobblestone road led you to the far side of town. There were fewer streetlights and even at this early hour of night fewer people. The mist clung to your dewy skin making the colorful makeup on your face feel as if it was possibly sweating off but where you were going you knew it wouldn't matter. There it stood ahead on the corner of Kryx Ave and Ophiphon Street. The Key. It was a classic dive bar that only the locals ever ventured to. The building itself was ominous with black brick and red stained windows. After dark the bar was always bolstering with loud heavy noise that could vibrate your insides only a few yards away from it. You could feel the synergy of rambunctious and unadulterated pleasure.

[silurisanguine]

WIP Wednesday

From up coming next chapter of Chasing Your Star Until I Find Home and it's a spicy moment! 🚀🪐

I tag the Coemancer Crew as usual, Plus anyone else who'd like to share any wip.

His touch felt like electric on her skin, she'd missed it so much and she pulled him closer, her nails raking across his back, causing him to growl and lift her off the desk. "I need more than a taste." He whispered huskily in her ear, desire dripping off every syllable and Seren nodded, moving her head around to catch his lips again in a bruising kiss that told him she wanted it too. Sam carried her over to the bed and dropped her down onto it, whilst he stood at the foot and divested himself of the rest of his clothes. Seren matched him, sliding out of what was left of her clothing just as fast, tossing it to the floor to watch Sam admire her for a moment before he crawled up over her, like a predator about to devour their prey. Seren lifted her hands up to touch Sam's chest, but he took her wrists in one hand and pinned them back over her head, making her back arch and breasts push up towards his face. Sam dipped down to envelope a pert nipple with his lips, sucking gently. It made Seren throw her head back as warmth shot down to her core, that ache she'd missed, building fervently as her need for this Sam to fuck her grew. "You can have me." She whispered as she lifted her head again, to see Sam's predatory smile widen. He threw his hat off, where it landed on the chair to the side and dove for her again, his mouth crashing with her lips, tongue delving into her mouth to entwine with hers, greedily drinking down her moans like his life depended on it.

[poptartportfolio]

The Starfield furry AU OC Mashup between my boyfriend Liam and I <3

Featuring from Left to Right: Leon (Freestar Collective), Poptart (Starborn), Chandra (United Colonies), Softie (Unaffiliated for now!), Mantra (Freestar Collective), Levi (Spacer), and Shrike (House Va'ruun!) <3

[atonalginger]

The Ranger and the Deputy

Rating: Explicit for graphic depictions of violence, explicit sexual content, and major character death ('offscreen' but major focus of the first case).

Summary:

In an AU where Delgado wound up a Ranger instead of with the Fleet, Constellation's newest recruit, Kitty Lincoln, finds herself wrapped up in a ranger investigation. Will she stay the course with Constellation's mission? Or will she go a different way, learning how to navigate the dangerous Starfield alongside the rough and wild Ranger.

The first 9 chapters are now live on ao3! You can find them by clicking

Here

[onomatopoetic101999]

Chapter One: Imbroglio

Chapter Two: Incorrigible

Ignis Fatuus Masterlist

------

Imbroglio: an intricate and perplexing state of affairs; a complicated or difficult situation

------

"Wonderful, you're awake! We found our next lead." Sarah pulls you to the side the second you come down to the main room of the Lodge, and you smile. Her determined enthusiasm, as always, is infectious.

"It's on Paradiso. We don't want to raise suspicion for any of the higher ups there," you nod, Paradiso's leadership was notorious for commodifying everything they possibly could, "so you and Sam are going to go under cover as newlyweds!"

You blink. Newlyweds? As in married??

As Sarah explains the details of the mission, specifically where they believed the Artifact to be, you glance over to your proposed companion, who is currently in an animated debate with Mateo. Going under cover with Sam Coe seemed like an idea that would inevitably end in disaster.

It wasn't that you two didn't get along! You adored Sam, and little Cora was one of your favorite people in the galaxy. It's just that... you also weren't blind; everything about Sam Coe screamed "Heart Throb," from his saunter, to his physique, to the deep rasp of his voice. He's the complete package! Who is going to believe he was married to you? You aren't ugly by any means, but you're also nowhere close to Sam Coe's level of attractive.

You take in his features and sigh to yourself. Oh yeah, they're definitely going to believe that this gorgeous, mature, athletic, bombshell of a man was married to you. Mhm. Not suspicious at all.

As if he feels your eyes on him, Sam looks over at you to raise a questioning eyebrow.

You don't respond to the unspoken query, and instead decide looking back at Sarah is easier than unpacking why meeting his baby blues head on is suddenly unnerving.

"Why can't I go as a single vacationer? And why can't you do it? Or Andreja? Where's Cora going to go? Maybe Barrett could come!"

The idea of doing this with Barrett seems like a walk in the park by comparison. You teasingly flirted with each other constantly. You usually would pick Sam's company over anybody's, but for some reason this mission just didn't sit right with you. Sarah nips every idea in the bud.

"The readings that match our previous Artifacts' are coming from the couples' section of the retreat, Barrett and I are off on another lead in the morning, and Andreja can't lie to save her life. There's just no way around it. It has to be you two. Sam has already dropped Cora off on the Eye to stay with Vladimir."

She leans in slightly and puts a consoling hand on your shoulder.

"Is everything okay? I thought you'd be excited; it's basically a week long vacation. Besides, you and Sam have always been so close! He won't let anything happen to you, you know."

You nod as if that comforts you, not being able to explain that your belief in Sam's capabilities wasn't the problem. You probably trusted Sam more than anyone else in Constellation; he was your best friend. He accompanied you on nearly every mission you went on. You knew very well he would put his life on the line without hesitation if it meant protecting yours.

You couldn't explain why the idea of pretending to love Sam bothered you so much. It really did seem unbelievable, but you could tell it was something more than that. You couldn't put a name to it, so you ignore the feelings of reservation.

"Okay, fine. What else do I need to know?"

After fully briefing you on the details, she waves Sam over to you.

He tips his hat to you both in greeting, and is entirely unfazed when she hands you each a wedding ring. As he slides his onto his finger and winks at you, you connect that he knew about this assignment ahead of time. Why are you the last to know?

The blush you feel creeping up your neck leaves you shocked, and you slide your own ring on quickly. Sam has winked at you before! Why are you suddenly so affected by it? He nudges you with his hip, and smiles when you look up at him in response.

"Ready to go, Darlin'?"

You nod. As ready as you'd ever be, you supposed.

------

The woman at the front desk smiles as Sam holds the door open for you, his other hand gently pressed against your back to guide you through. His palm is warm through the fabric of your shirt, and he puts just enough pressure to direct you.

Your stomach swoops against your will, and you just manage to keep your facial expression consistent. What was wrong with you? It was just Sam! It isn't as if him touching you was new. You've hugged more times than you could count.

You reach the front desk and the woman glances between the two of you.

"Welcome to Paradiso! Do you have a reservation?"

Sam nods, pulling you into his side. Your hands come up to rest on him instinctively, one on his chest and the other around to his back, while his palm slides around to press into your waist. You smile at the woman and nod as well.

As Sam's husky drawl comes out, you feel his broad chest shift under your palm. "It's under 'Coe', ma'am, for the Couples' Package?" At the use of his real last name, you turn to look at him sharply. He meets your shocked eyes and his smile widens. He leans down to whisper against your ear.

"They'd all recognize me anyway. Relax, Darlin'," his thumb sweeps along your waist, "I've got it all handled." Your fingers tighten to grip his shirt at the feel of his breath against your cheek, but you force yourself to take a deep, calming breath. It's Sam. He's got this. Sam nods in approval and whispers a quiet, "Atta girl," before straightening up again.

Your stomach swoops a second time, but you focus on what the woman is saying as she looks up your reservation.

"So! The Couple's package includes complete access to all of the amenities in the Lovebird Section of our resort! That includes our full size swimming pool, which is found outside, our sauna and nightclub, both of which could be found on our Lovebird exclusive basement level, and our many romantic restaurants." She begins to walk away, and Sam keeps you close to his side, this time guiding you with the arm wrapped around your back as he follows. When you reach the elevator, the woman gestures through it's door with a flourish.

"Right this way, Mr. and Mrs. Coe! Your suite is on floor three, and don't you worry," the woman winks, "it's sound proof!"

Mrs. Coe? Sound proof?? Your surprised steam isn't coming out of your ears with how hot you feel your face burning.

The second the elevator door closes, Sam lets out the bark of laughter you just know he had been holding in. When you smack his chest in protest, he covers your hand with one of his own to keep it pressed there while he wipes a tear away with the other. You try to tug your hand away, but he doesn't let you, instead pulling you gently closer to him with a hand on your waist.

"I'm sorry for laughing, Darlin', I won't do it anymore." He doesn't look sorry in the slightest, and he when adds a teasing "even in our sound proof room," you feel your face start to heat up again. Your reaction starts up a whole new round of chuckles, and while you try to keep a smile off your face, his joy is infectious.

You're still in high spirits when you get to the room, but when Sam puts your bags down, the sleeping arrangements come into view. There was only one bed. One very romantic, king sized, heart shaped bed. Paradiso hadn't been exaggerating when they called this area of the resort the "Lovebird Section". You realize you should have seen this coming, but you hadn't thought about it. What were you going to do?

Sam's breath hitches at the sight of the red covers and the rose petals strewn across the floor, but the pause is so short that you think you might have imagined it. He saunters in and sits on the edge of the offending furniture, taking his hat off and resting it on the covers next to him.

You follow, in a bit of a daze, and sit on his other side. Your mind is running a mile a minute. You were going to have to share, weren't you? Sam would offer to take the floor, you were sure; that's just the kind of man he was. But would you be able to sleep comfortably knowing he was suffering on the floor? No, you decide, you wouldn't. You'd have to share.

Just when you open your mouth to speak, Sam stands, offering you a hand to help you up.

"C'mon, Darlin'! I believe that kind lady mentioned 'many romantic restaurants'." He mimics the woman's voice as he quotes her, and you can't help but laugh at the horrible rise in pitch.

His smile widens victoriously, and he pulls you out the door with him the second you grab his hand.

You'd figure out the sleeping details later. Everything was going to be fine. It was just Sam.

------

Chapter Two: Incorrigible

[thatsgoodsquishy0]

Pairing: F!Reader x Ranger!Sam Coe Rating: M+ Bio: Set during Sam’s younger years working as a Freestar Ranger alongside his wife, Lillian Hart. Whether circumstance, or impossible luck, you're given a second chance at life, ultimately growing close to The Coes. You take a shine to Cora, but the family dynamic is something else entirely, albeit a little overwhelming, as you realize the toll Lillian's absence has taken on the family, but more specifically, her husband. Sam Coe is witty, charming, and ambitious; a man who knows what he wants and stops at nothing to reach his goals, but when his wife seems to prioritize her career over her family, it's hard not to notice the strain growing inside him. Your friendship may be just the support Sam needs, even if the temptations for something more linger, and when your past threatens your future, where will your morals lie? Will you end up back where you started? Chemistry is a cruel mistress

cross-posted to AO3 credit to @seracoe for the lovely Ranger Sam pic & @cafekitsune for the divider & @fangbangerghoul and @bearlytolerant for their unwavering support and feedback. thank you so much!! <3

i. BOUND

Your wrists were bound behind your back. Scratchy twine rubbed against your skin as you wiggled your hands. Alarms blared overhead. Your head rolled as your vision bobbed. Your knees were sore. You remembered the cruelty of your captor’s instructions to never sit or lay down; you could only kneel. Through the slits of your eyes you barely registered the urgency amongst the crew as they bounced around the cockpit, like bugs inside a terrarium.

“Fuck! Fuck! They’re headed towards —- !” a bloodied scream, cracks of gunfire, liquid gurgles over the intercom.

“They just wasted Fredericks!”

“How the fuck did they find us?!”

The rope chaffed against your wrists; a sick reminder that escape was futile.

You looked to your left. Your eyes shot wide and a deep, guttural scream left your throat as you met the endless stare of a dead woman. In refuge, you looked to your right. Another dead one greeted you just as forcibly. You flinched, averted your eyes, but in the darkness behind your eyelids the horror remained; splashes of red staining her hair, the ghostly whites of her eyes, mouth frozen in a permanent scream, the ugly circle in the middle of her forehead.

The kidnapper’s rampant states evolved to a frenzy as they darted their desperation towards you, like a missile locking onto a target. Shots continued past your range of sight, but you heard them; muffled and close.

One of the kidnapper's charged towards you, gun in hand.

Your mind in fragments, you tried your best to stand before they could reach you, but the kneeling rendering your knees useless. You fell forward, sharp pains stabbing your kneecaps as you fumbled up again. A woman delivered a shift kick to your stomach. You groaned and toppled back, your trapped wrists splashing against the puddle of wet blood.

“You did this, didn’t you?! ” the woman bellowed. “Who’d you send for?! Huh?!” She grabbed a fistful of your hair, locking her venomous glare against your quivering lips as you chased an answer on your tongue.

She yanked harder. “Answer me, you fucking rat!”

You opened your mouth and willed yourself to speak, but the words abandoned you. Tears pooled in your eyes.

Fed up with your sloppiness, the woman growled and released her grip. You stumbled back, falling on your side as you caught yourself from landing on your wrists, hair dipping into the red liquid. She cocked her gun. You squeezed your eyes shut. Sweat beaded atop your forehead, its saltiness mixing with the metallic stench of your hair as the tarnished concoction trickled down your face like runny hair dye. You felt the bloodied strands of hair gently brushed aside, making way for the cold barrel as it pushed into your forehead. You thought you heard the trigger click in anticipation. Your heartbeat convulsed inside your chest.

Then — a hatch opened. Two gun blasts. Bam! Bam!

The gun clattered against the floor, followed by a thud!

You popped open your eyes. The woman’s lifeless body lie face down beside your shoes, her brown rats nest a bloodied mess as crimson fluids leaked from her head across the floor. Your breathing blew out in bursts, in and out. Violent gulps of air choked your throat and stung your chest as you struggled frantically to break free from the restraints while hastily hauling yourself to a corner. Your stomach churned as you worked your wrists, the grip seeming to shrink tighter, down to the bone with every pull. The alarm sang like a sick cheer for your escape as you thrashed your wrists against the floor, screaming, wailing, fighting for absolution.

You curled into a fetal position, the pain from the kick resigning in your stomach as you felt your will crumble into hopelessness, like the last survivor on a sinking ship.

There was no direction for your gaze as you shut your eyes.

“Hey – hey -- stay with me now.”

Beneath your trembling, that anxious voice reached you, as if it were coaxing you along a bridge across treacherous waters.

Your mouth fell open, bottom lip shaking as any formation of a sentence betrayed you. You mustered a weak gasp as a man approached. His face was rugged, but determined as he peered down upon you, upon your sanguine soaked forehead. He sported a cowboy hat that seemed to provide a shadow against his face. His brows were thick and furrowed together as his hands attempted to reach the sides of your face. You suspended your gaze and tucked your body away from the room. Away from him.

“Ain’t gonna hurtcha!” he remarked, his voice silent amid the screaming buzzer. “Just wanna make sure y’ain’t bleedin’ a ton!”

Your throat was drier than a vase of forgotten flowers; tongue just as tied as the wrists behind your back — a spot the man captured quickly as he assessed your predicament. You heard the flick of a pocketknife and quickly looked up. A woman stepped into the room. She lowered her gun, but kept her finger above the trigger. A golden glint on her chest caught your eye. Your stomach dropped. Police?

Suddenly, you feared for your life again.

“Sam, don’t untie her just yet! We have no idea which side she’s on!”

“Pretty clear to me which side!”

“It could be a trap!” The woman stepped closer, her gaze fidgeting around the room as they hollered against the ringing. “This could be their ploy!”

“She’s banged up pretty bad, Lillian, and she can’t use her hands. Clearly, she couldn’t grab a weapon even if she tried!”

“I just don’t know about this, Sam!”

“You took a chance on a reckless kid once, and despite how you found him, things turned out pretty damn fine!”

The woman located the gun closest to you and immediately kicked it across the room. The man continued to hold his unsheathed pocket knife. The blade gave a serrated smile.

“Just trust me, alright?!”

She took a sharp breath, a sigh, then removed her finger from the trigger as she lowered the gun all the way. “Alright! Fine! We’ll take her back with us, get her all patched up, then ask her some questions! See what she knows!”

“Yes ma’am!” You caught a glimpse of a tiny smile swathed in success as the man leaned across your body and began to cut into the twine. Your hands trembled.

“Hold still!” he yelled, sawing through the restraints.

Your heart raced. What if the blade sliced through your skin by accident? You remained completely still, patient, until finally, the ropes snapped off.

You instinctively rubbed the twisted indentations embedded in your skin. Despite your hands being freed, you still couldn’t bring yourself to move, or speak. You gazed at your savior, the knife still in his grasp. He considered you with a tilt of his head, his eyes straight-lined with patience as he retracted the knife and slid it back into his pocket. The woman doubled-down on her stance, waiting for your next move. You exhaled, quick and shaky. The man offered his hand, but you didn’t take it, then he slowly crouched beside you, and urged you to stand up, his voice barely comprehensible over the squawking alarm.

You lifted yourself up, unintentionally pressing your hands into the blood of the dead. You withdrew your palms and swung your head around. Splatters of brain matter splashed against the wall and space-viewed windows. Your legs rocked from under you. Vehemently, your head shook in disbelief. You covered your hand atop your mouth and blinked away tears. Before you could look any further out of sheer morbidity, a pair of hands firmly gripped your shoulders and pulled your sight away. The man’s brows etched with concern. His stare linked to yours.

“Don’t look.”

In utter shock, both words swam through your eardrums in smooth, purposeful strokes. and you obeyed, keeping your eyes on him. Your muscles were weak, but appreciative, as you tried again to stand up. The man threw your arm carefully around his shoulder and the woman followed, a grunt passing from her lips as you adjusted to their rescue.

“Don’t make me regret this, okay?” She muttered close to your ear as you exited the cockpit hatch.

Blood rushed from the crown of your head down to the tips of your toes. Each blare of the alarm mimicked the pounding in your head, like thousands of birds squawking as they pecked your ears raw.

You whined as you passed under one of the sirens.

The man yelled something, but his voice remained unintelligible, however, you thought maybe he was reassuring you. You lifted your head and peered to your right – the woman focused forward, aware of the next steps as you moved further down the ship. The man adjusted his hold on you, and you caught the faintest scent of cologne mixed with salt and blood. The pounding in your head grew louder, angrier, as they pulled you past their victims. The air smelt of tarnished pennies. The soles of your shoes dragged along the floor through puddles of red, leaving a evidence of a retreat behind as you exited the ship and entered another one.

You were ushered through a series of rooms, each one more scientific than the last, until your body was gently laid onto a cot. Exhaustion consumed you. You battled with your brain to keep your eyelids open as they slowly began to close; not for the sake of sleep, but for asylum against the ringing in your ears. You curled into a ball — the dead woman from the ship accompanying the darkness that began to swallow you.

“Get her a trauma pack.”

“Sam, we only got one left. Once we get to The Rock, Doc will look her over just fine.”

“Then, I’ll buy another one. Lillian, don’t fight me on this.”

There was a long pause, followed by the decrescendo of footsteps, then you heard the faint sound of an object being placed beside you. After a few minutes you heard voices, but the words were too distant to hear or understand, however the tones were defiant, combative. One of them raised their voice, but you couldn’t tell who. Then, they stopped.

Finally, as your body lulled against the rolling ship through space, your heartbeat steadied. Boots softly thudded into your room as you lay on your side, your face against the cool of the ship’s wall.

“I, um – I don’t know if you can hear me, but there's medicine next to ya, if you need it. I’ll be out on the nav-floor if you need anythin’.” He cleared his throat. “Alright then.”

You were grateful, even if tonight stole the words right out of your blood soaked mouth, you saved. Saved from death, from a fate worse than death, from something you’d never experience again, because you had an idea how you ended up here in the place.

Despite this, you tapped the inner recesses of your mind searching for something, anything, hinting whether or not this was a stroke of luck or if someone knew you would be on the spaceship and called for help.

Was this all part of Anton’s plan?

A sudden warmth encompassed you. You set those worries aside and reached your hands forward feeling a softness draped over you. The fabric blanketed your body as you allowed yourself this moment of vulnerability. Anton didn’t exist right now.

You’d use the trauma pack later. You were in need of a shower, too. You scrunched your face, the blossoms of your cheeks popping as you listened to the sickening way the dried blood cracked. Shudders flowed through your warming body. You pushed your appearance aside, craving the nurturing arms of slumber; at least for a little while.

You pulled the blanket closer until it covered the tip of your chin. You licked the dryness off your lips, careful not to lick off any blood that had slid its way down. You parted them, releasing a low breath, a safe breath, as the blanket melted into your body.

You weren’t sure if the man was still there, or if your voice would even reach him, but you knew the second those words left your parched throat, you’d never forget this day, or this man’s unabridged kindness.

In the dark of the spaceship, as the hum of the grave drive soothed your weary muscles and the pillow held your blood soaked head, you sleepily whispered, “Thank you.”

[bearlytolerant]

Fandom: Starfield, Pairing: Delgado x OC, CH Rating: M, AO3

Chapter One Excerpt:

Nothing but purple neon and red fluorescent haze. Grease and residual moisture that smells like fish and fuck—he can barely make out the toe of his boot in Neon’s smog. He flicks his cigarette to the ground and stomps it out. Another piece of shit to add to the littered street smelling like piss-fried-fish.

Delgado leans up against the railing and reads the word spleen in pillowy white letters, outlined in black and painted lime green on the inside like it’s a fucking party to sell your organs for snake oil in the dark recesses of the alleys. The back door swings open, slamming against the wall. The draft clears some of the haze and his boots are as black and shiny as ever. He doesn’t startle when his neighbor steps out into the alley too. Cigarette pinched between her fingers and she lifts it to her mouth before she catches sight of him in her peripheral.

“Shit.” A fumble and his reflexes aren’t too slow as he snatches it mid air. “Didn’t see you there,” she says.

“It’s so goddam smoggy, can’t see shit out here.”

“Can’t disagree. Should probably check my surroundings a bit better next time though.”

She leans toward him expectantly and he places the cigarette between the pretty plum stain of her lips. Pulls out his lighter and gives it a flick, lighting up the end in an amber glow.

“Thanks,” she mutters.

“Least I can do.”

“I’m Verity by the way,” she says, the two of them looking up at the smoky air where they both know Neon City locals and visitors alike are wandering the grated walkways high above. Instinctively they press themselves closer to the wall. Never know when someone’s going to spew spit or the contents of their gut from a nauseating Aurora-alcohol combo.

In sync, they cast their eyes to the ground.

“Delgado,” he tells her.

[voxel-loves-you]

I Starfield-ified Frankie. Go get your Neon born gunsmith in the basement at the Lodge, tinkering at the weapon workbench. Alternatively she'll be in one of the other Constellation member's rooms, snooping on their computer. And she isn't being sneaky about it either. She's openly making it her business and you will accommodate.

If you start befriending her, she'll kiss your boo-boos better via offering you free meds. She doesn't care if you steal crap or make morally horrid choices as long as you aren't hurting kids. So go make that evil character. The field where her fucks were growing is barren.

[kirythestitchwitch]

Klaroline WIP Wed - waffle house fic - Eating Habits

Okay okay here's some Rebekah! 😊

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

Rebekah Mikaelson sat down in her booth.

“Oh my god, is this where you’ve been?” She dropped her large, obnoxiously designer purse on the tabletop, scattering Caroline’s pens. “Truly, this is tragic.”

Caroline blinked, frantically wondering if vampires could have hallucinations, if maybe she just hadn’t noticed being bitten by a werewolf recently. “Rebekah?”

“Well spotted.” Digging in her purse, she pulled out a compact and a tube of lipstick. “Did you also notice that one tends to stick to the booth?” She squirmed slightly, looking disgusted.

Marcy bustled over, pulling her notepad and pen from her apron. “Well, I’ll be! Company.” She beamed at Caroline, who smiled stiffly back. “Can I get you anything?”

Rebekah paused halfway to freshening up her lipstick to examine the short, round woman. “Does everything here come with grease on it?” she asked.

The server’s smile went sharp. “No, we put the grease on special for flavor.”

Rebekah frowned. “Then no.” She returned to fixing her lipstick, Marcy clearly dismissed from her mind.

Caroline exchanged a look with the server, trying to convey some kind of wordless apology and mutual irritation. Marcy rolled her eyes but left with one finally squinty-eyed look at Rebekah.

“It’s a good thing you didn’t get anything, she probably would have spit in it,” Caroline said, reaching out to corral her pens in a pile away from her booth guest.

Looking up from tucking away her makeup, Rebekah looked disgusted. “Gross. Would you have warned me?”

“Not even a little.” She flashed Rebekah a smile as polite as it was fake.

The other girl offered her own version of the same. “It’s a wonder we left any of you alive,” she said, digging back in her purse.

Caroline tapped the end of her pen against her notebook. “So, about that: what are you doing here and how quickly can you leave?” Rebekah’s dorm was on the other end of the row closest to campus, and Caroline made an effort to avoid bumping into her when she walked past. Unfortunately, seeing her in Biology on Thursdays was unavoidable. They very diplomatically sat on opposite ends of the classroom.

“I’m hungry for a midnight snack.” Her tone of voice made it clear she thought this was obvious.

With a shrug, Caroline picked up a highlighter and started going down the list of vocabulary words. “Well, you had your chance for pie, I’m afraid.”

“Don’t be daft.” Rebekah pulled out a small, collapsible brush and started working invisible tangles out of her hair. “I don’t want pie, I want a nice brunette. Maybe a blond.”

Freezing mid-highlight, Caroline glanced at Rebekah and then around to see who was paying attention. June was busy with a table that had just been sat, and Marcy was in the back. The other tables had cleared out. No one paid her any mind. "Rebekah," she hissed quietly, "You can't just eat people in a Waffle House. Marcy's already had to clean up after some drunk kids who hurled on the bar tonight, she doesn't deserve to find a dead body in the bathroom."

The air of disdain with which Rebekah looked at her might have peeled paint. "What have the Salvatores been teaching you, baby vampire? I'd understand Stefan having no self-control–he never did–but surely Damon is old enough."

Caroline huffed bitterly. "Damon hasn't exactly been known for his self-control, either, historically. Elena's mostly guilted him into using blood bags, but I'm sure he has his cheat days."

Rebekah shuddered dramatically. "Ugh, blood bags. There’s always a plastic aftertaste, I don’t know how you stomach them.”

“Well, I’m not about to start Stefan’s bunny diet anytime soon. I don’t know how he stomachs the fur in his teeth,” Caroline said, making a face. Rebekah gave her a look she probably saved for unfortunate Dickensian orphans to lure them in before draining them dry, like Caroline was the most pitiable creature on Earth. “You know those aren’t your only options, right? Stefan’s guilt-fueled eternal Lent or the refrigerated donations intended for the injured.” She tossed her hair over her shoulder with a flippant hand. “I mean, I don’t care about that sort of thing, but you seem like the type that would. A Good Vampire, and all that.” Smiling as if that was funny, Rebekah seemed like she was trying to invite Caroline in on the joke.

[a-cosmic-elf]

Tales from The Viewport

a Starfield ficlet by a cosmic elf.

*contains spoilers for ng+*

“Hey, new here, huh? I can tell. Welcome to New Atlantis. I’m Nyssa, bartender here at The Viewport.

“Take a seat. Can I getcha something? I recommend a New Arrival, warm and sweet, with a little kick at the end to combat jump sickness. Just don’t ask for the recipe. It’s a family secret.

“Heading to the MAST district? I recommend avoiding the area; I hear there’s been some trouble up at The Lodge...

“It all began with the arrival of the strangest ship you’ve ever seen. Jim, the Service Tech at the port, said he nearly filled his flight suit when that thing landed!

“The next thing we know, there’s a shoot out at The Lodge, you know, Constellation’s HQ, heard of those guys? Well, sadly, you’re not likely to anymore.

“Security cordoned off the area and are staying pretty tight-lipped about what went down. But the word on the street is the entire place is abandoned. The members of Constellation have vanished! Not a single trace of them, only a handful of dead Va’ruun Zealots, can you imagine? Zealots, here, in New Atlantis!

“A strange ship, and House Va’runn, you can’t tell me those two things aren’t connected. *phew* that was one crazy day!

“I hope those guys at Constellation are okay. Hey, you didn’t hear it from me, but a UC Sec pilot told me their starstation is empty, too. It’s all too spooky for my tastes.

“And just when you think it can’t be any more bizarre, the owner of that ship strolled right into this very bar and hired this guy, Simeon; I believe that’s his name. He agreed to board that ship! That’s one brave guy, I don’t think I would have done it. He must have been very keen to get out of town for some reason.

“Aaanyway, never a dull day in New Atlantis, there’s always something going on. If you see anything else suspicious, I recommend telling security.

“And stay away from anyone in odd-looking spacesuits. Who knows where that Simeon guy is going to end up. I don’t know why they let that ship land in the first place. Just what was that security patrol in orbit thinking? Biggest case of ‘not my job’, if you ask me.

“I hope you enjoy your stay. Let me know if you need a refill.”

[therealgchu]

Snippet Sunday - Sam's Wild Night

this will prolly go up soonish? i'm going into trial crunch time this week, so i dunno how much i'll be writing. it's almost finished, but i'm expecting long nights and working over the weekends for the next couple weeks. first trial since 2021.

that said, this is the start of a new round of flashback stories, part of the anamnesis line, but its own since it'll be spicy, and i don't want the tags to get muddied.

thanks @fangbangerghoul for the tag! tagging anyone else who wants to share their snippets today.

Anamnesis stories are here.

To the Shore is here.

sneak peak coming in spicy (this section is pg, actually).

Sam was sitting in a booth in the Astral Lounge, a beer in one hand, a shot in the other. He was waiting for his boss to show up, but decided to start the party without him. He’d just gotten done with a haul out to Niira where his grav drive decided to throw a fit. It took hours to fix, and he was lucky to have been able to even limp to Neon. His usually clean-shaven face had a day’s stubble since he had just enough time to take a shower and change clothes, but not much more than that. The stubble was still pretty blond, and not very visible.

While he was waiting, an attractive couple came up smiling. “Aren’t you a bit young to be here?” the woman asked. She was a stunning blonde with hazel eyes, and legs that went all the way up.

Sam smiled at her, “I’m 20, darlin’, more than old enough to be in here,” he answered cockily. “In fact, it’s my birthday today.”

The woman smiled, “Happy birthday, then,” she purred. She gestured to the empty seat to the left of Sam, and he patted the spot. She sat down, “Claire,” she said as she held out her hand. Sam took it and kissed it. Claire smiled then gestured to her companion, “Dane,” she said, introducing him. Dane sat down to Sam’s right..

The man had chestnut hair and warm brown eyes, and the most amazing peaches and cream complexion Sam had ever seen on a person. He was equally as beautiful as the woman. Sam smiled broadly at both of them. Dane chuckled and patted Sam on the knee, “It’s because you’re clean shaven. I bet you that a beard would make you look older,” he said.

Sam cocked his head to the side, “Huh, I hadn’t thought of that. I thought that a lot of women didn’t like facial hair?” he asked.

Claire smiled, “I love facial hair, so long as it’s nicely trimmed,” she leaned in.

Dane nodded, “A beard on a man such as yourself is very attractive.” He gently touched Sam’s jaw, “It would bring out your bone structure so nicely.”

[fangbangerghoul]

It's WIP Wednesday!

Tagging: @atonalginger, @eridanidreams, @silurisanguine, @therealgchu, @staticpallour, @a-cosmic-elf, @lisa-and-shadow @bearlytolerant (no obligation and feel free to still tag me!)

I am still working on chapter 9 of Fleeting Pleasures but I did release some chapters for Ghoul Files to hold you over as you wait!

Below is a wip that might be a part of Ghoul Files at some point!

The ship had flown into orbit of Volii Alpha and Ghoul was still awaiting the all clear to land in Neon. The ship’s ID markings were not legal ones but as long as Jazz pulled through on her end the planet’s security system wouldn't be none the wiser to it. Ghoul’s fingers impatiently tapped on the side of the captain’s chair and she was trying everything in her might to think of anything other than the reoccurring name that repeated in the back of her mind. Masako Imada. The one person she always hoped to avoid the attention of whenever she revisited Neon City. Her wanted bounty was technically paid for thanks to the once wonderful Constellation members but Ghoul was not quick to forget her 'mother’s' true nature. 

“You’re cleared for landing.” A voice came through on the comms allowing Ghoul to finally initiate the landing sequence. She was starting to regret her lack of thought when it came to her wardrobe this morning. The green sweater and cargo pants fit her well and comfortably. Those were important considering she acknowledged how often she found herself in impromptu combat, but she knew very well that if it was raining, she would soon be soaked to the bone. The ship used it’s autopiloting features to land itself into the designated landing pad the security team had sent to her ship. It was convenient as fuck and it made Ghoul’s life that much easier, which she enjoyed. Just like she enjoyed the face Delgado gave her right before she got into her ship to leave. Stern on the exterior but his eyes spoke a different language that only she could decipher. 

Ghoul got up from the chair in the cockpit and untied her hair to fix it for the moment. It was very disheveled and it was hard to decide how she wanted it. The final decision ended with half of her hair and bangs tied out of her face while she let the rest of the green curls rest on the back of her neck. She was well aware she still looked like she had just gotten out of bed but appearances were the least of her worries. This had to go well, for Del’s sake. He was stressed enough as it was and having a face the whole Settled System’s could recognize in a heartbeat had to be frustrating. There was a part of her that was worried how recognizable she still was on this planet but she pushed the thought to the side thinking perhaps it had been long enough. Her knives were in the captain's locker and she equipped the blades throughout places on her body. They were of various sizes for their appropriate places and each had etchings of different symbols that mattered to her. It was one of the few gifts she ever accepted from Del and it was one of the first gifts that represented their unspoken union.  

At the entrance of the ship she hopped onto the ladder then exited from the main hull and her boots clanked loudly against the metal. It was the only sound she heard till the landing bay hatch opened to dark gray skies and suddenly there were overwhelming sounds of crashing waves in the distance, thunder, and ships that flew in and out of the space port of Neon City. She was hesitant at first but after a deep breath Ghoul let herself exit the ship fully. The wind and rain caused a bit of a distraction at first but she quickly adjusted herself and ignored the pelts she felt on her from the raindrops falling so viciously.

[silurisanguine]

Pleaaassseeeeeeee may I hear about Serpents Embrace??

👀💖

Hi thanks for the ask! I think I've spoken about this one before but this is the story set around the rare universe where Andreja is not only a zealot, but in fact a Gravit High Priestess. She will feature as the main antagonist rather than just the enemy to fight in the Lodge as Seren will never set foot in it, seeing as the Va'ruun have won the Serpents Crusade and New Atlantis is theirs. As Seren knows now to be far more careful, she avoids New Atlantis after seeing how the world is on Vectera, she searches out familiar underworld locations, like the Vulture's roost, The Mantis lair etc to find information. Through that she finds a resistance group fighting against the Va'Ruun and seeks them out, finding familiar faces amongst the group, including an older silver fox Sam ;).

[airi-of-hearts]

✨🪐💫 A Field of Stars ✨🪐💫

A story set in a galaxy far, far away…well, many of them. Written for the aib server prompt: Sci-Fi AU

The view from her penthouse in Imperial City was breathtaking. Airi had lived there for a few years and she was still overwhelmed by the vastness of it. Coruscant, the Jewel of the Core Worlds; trillions of citizens, human and alien alike. The city-planet had become the hub of galactic culture, education, finance, fine arts, politics and technology.

But Airi hadn’t moved there to flaunt wealth or mingle with high society, her reason was more pragmatic: Coruscant was home to the Senate Building, if she took her Diplomat career seriously, this is where she had to be. She wouldn’t be heard anywhere else.

So far, it hasn’t been exactly easy to earn her spot. Well-established–and frankly, old–Senators are always ready to tell her she’s too young, too inexperienced, her ideas too harsh, too radical, too alienating.

Kovacs had warned her this would happen. Takeshi Kovacs, a former Protectorate Envoy turned bounty hunter, the man she once believed would be the love of her life. Even then, he had been just another man telling her what she couldn’t do.

Well, fuck him. Fuck them all.

Airi paced from the living space to her bedroom and back again, reciting her next speech under her breath. She would speak at the Senate the next day and there was no room for error.

She raised her voice when he reached her main idea. ‘Just because the elites have made Neon City into their playground where anything goes, that doesn’t mean illegal activities should be tolerated. Crimes related to the drug known as Aurora don’t affect these rich tourists as much as they affect the lives and livelihoods of the most vulnerable sections of the population, and this has to stop.’ She would have to modulate her voice some more, she was almost yelling by the end of it.

People–other diplomats, even Senators–usually asked her why she cared that much about a random city many galaxies away. Well, she would tell them, for one thing she was not going to stand for injustice anywhere. And for another, that was her hometown.

The pleasure city of Neon was a tourist trap that catered to the extravagant tastes of those who could afford all that the city had to offer. And for the locals? Not a lot of options outside fishing for Chasmbass, the source for the hallucinogenic drug Aurora.

Airi might still live there, working for Xenofresh Fisheries if she was lucky, if it hadn’t been for her parents. Her mother wanted her to have a real education, so she’d sent Airi off-world under the care of the Protectorate to study.

It wasn’t as if her life in Neon was too bad, Airi’s father worked for a ship manufacturing company and slowly but steadily managed to rise through their ranks. Meanwhile, as a young girl, Airi spent her days roaming the mean streets of Neon, befriending (or bothering) the hardworking denizens at Ikuchi market, mapping the Ebbside, even venturing into the Underbelly on occasion… and picking up useful skills on the way; she still had a knack for picking locks and hacking into terminals.

A soft beep made her turn around, bringing her back from her memories.

BB-8, the astromech droid that had adopted her (Airi was convinced of this, she hadn’t chosen the little round droid, he had chosen her), had stopped rolling around after her when he realized the pacing would take hours, but he still seemed to be complaining.

‘I know, I know. I won’t be too harsh tomorrow. Well, I will try,’ Airi said, patting the robot.

She hoped she could keep her promise. Her outspokenness had attracted attention from the moment she started speaking up. It earned her many supporters, but many enemies as well. Important ones, the kind who could hire someone to kill her, they had already tried. Why? Well, rich people don’t like it when their source of income is threatened. But as Airi saw it, getting that reaction meant she was going the right way.

Besides, the United Colonies backed her up. They had even sent some of their best Vanguard members to protect her. Which reminded her…

‘Cheer up, BB. We’ll go on a little adventure soon enough.’

After the Senate session, Airi would travel to Neon. She knew some Senators would demand tangible proof of the illegal activities that Airi was denouncing, they wouldn’t ask her to go to Neon City outright but they would heavily imply it, so she had beaten them to the punch, by making travel arrangements. They surely hoped she would suffer some terrible accident over there, but Airi had already contacted the UC.

‘You will meet a member of the Vanguard there,’ the UC contact told her. They hadn’t said who it was. She hoped it was Andrómeda.

Incoming message, the androgynous voice of her penthouse’s AI announced. Airi let the first few words play over the speakers before deleting it. An invitation to a fancy dinner. A date.

She had much to do and… Who had time for love anyway?