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exeerrorscript · 3 months ago

Text

pay my dues; worship you

mature

prompt: riding connor until he cries

“Please, please, please!” He begs and pleads in his jerking state beneath you, but it does nothing to sway the smirk on your face.

“You look so pretty, baby.” Blowing at the wet tip gently, you giggle at the look on Connors face as he takes everything in with his shiny new sensors.

The thick saliva you gathered and dripped onto his new Heart sanctioned dick went from slightly warm to impossibly cold under your breath.

His hips jerked and he cried, but the stars holding his wrists together was custom made for their headboard, for their marital bed.

The dick was your gift to him, you’d been crafting it meticulously in the lab for an embarrassingly long time, you’d never admit it even if you were strung from each joint- much like Connor is right now,

“The prettiest I’ve ever seen. You’re gorgeous, it’s- it’s-” you lightly grabbed the base again and stroked gently with each work; you keep motion with your wrist while springing forward to whisper in his ear, “positively filthy.”

He cried your name, sobbed it in such a pretty cry your toes curled on instinct. You’re so glad to have played a parfait in crafting his face, building him, breathing in a small piece of your life.

You felt guilty for a long time. It ate away at you nearly each time, had you weighing your words and doubting your boundaries. Even after the revolution ended you didn’t know what to say. That was something you’d have to apologize for as well.

Connor, your precious Connor, hasn’t brought it up once. It was well within his rights to, he could do more- be angry, question you, doubt you, but he doesn’t. Instead he shudders at your voices.

He lets you trace the curve of his ear with your tongue, and he shudders when you dip the tip of it inside.

“Please,” he really does look desperate now, hips jerking constantly to meet your flicking wrist and eyelids in a permanent mini flutter.

You press a kiss to the center of his forehead, “My good boy. I’m so glad you like it, I worked so hard on it for you.” You kiss his cheek, “Just for you.” You kiss the other side, “My sworn favorite.”

He wines again, shuffling beneath you. Swinging a leg over both his thighs, you finally cease your feather light torment. Taking his jaw in each hand, you meet his soft, fucked-out brown eyes-

you could cum just from whatever feeling Connor is showing you through them, if you could only name one that would fit it. You wish you were an android, could screenshot your vision and save it forever

-and finally lower your lips to his. It’s incredibly gentle, his lips were synthetically smooth and gave kindly to your pressure. He parted first, taking your lip between his teeth and biting lightly; he ran it apologetically on each side before tracing the rigid tops of each individual tooth.

The apologetic kitten licks were likely a ploy, but you shivered in delight all the same. When he tired of the teeth, Connor began to explore the grooves of your hard palate. Your sweet Connor was so worried he’d hurt you, so hesitant, but the gentle pressure on the roof of your mouth brings tears to your eyes.

You shudder, hips ground hard as you try to pull away. His mouth chases you just enough that you linger, his tongue beginning to bashfully move against yours. Another apology, likely another ploy. He really was just so damn cute.

Your lips still burn where he tasted you, the soft glide of artificial warmth barely cooled by the ambient air between you. His eyes, those unbearably rich brown pools of puppy love, flicker with some unreadable expression—too many emotions overlapping, spilling through the cracks of his manufactured restraint.

“I love you,” you murmur, the words curling in the space between your lips and his, brushing like silk against his synthetic skin. You kiss him quickly once more so you can say it again, “I love you.”

His fingers twitch in the restraints, at first you used human ones; you liked knowing he could break out if he really wanted to. Connor insisted, swore it was for him that you get the android-specific model. He even had them specially reinforced just for his strength level.

Your perfect Connor. You raise to your knees, stretching tall in all your glory and it’s bliss how he looks at you. You take his generous new addition and let his tip slowly part your lips.

His lips part, but no sound comes. Just a breathless stutter in his throat, like his vocal processors are failing to reconcile everything at once. A glitch in his system, a disruption in the equilibrium of calculated responses. He’s always been so careful—so aware of every modulation of his voice, every fraction of expression. But now, under you, because of you, he is unmade.

Isn’t that worship?

Ever so often you lift the head to your clit, just enough that your grip would tighten and he would shake just so slightly.

Your free fingertips skim his jaw, the line of it sharp, refined—a design choice you once agonized over for weeks, obsessing over symmetry, over softness and severity in equal measure. The memory lingers beneath your skin, the weight of creation and consequence. You’d meant for him to be perfect, but you never meant for him to be yours. Not like this.

Connor’s body tells a different story.

The tension in his muscles, the way he leans into every touch, the unfiltered rawness in his expression—he wants. And not because of programming. Not because of some pre-coded function buried deep within his systems.

Because it’s you.

“Say it again,” he pleads, his voice barely a whisper, frayed at the edges.

You tilt your head, nails skimming lightly along his throat, feeling the quiet hum of his thirium pump beneath artificial flesh. Too fast. His body is working harder, compensating. Overwhelmed, overheating, undone.

“Say what again, sweetheart?” you tease, and his whole body trembles at the endearment.

His breath catches—his mouth opens and closes once, struggling to keep up, to hold himself together when everything is unraveling so beautifully.

“Please,” he gasps, like it’s been ripped from him, like it’s all he has left to give.

And God, the way he says it.

It drips from his lips like a prayer, reverent, aching, desperate. His voice cracks around it, like it’s the only thing grounding him, the only thing keeping him from breaking apart entirely.

Your grip on his jaw tightens just slightly, just enough to feel the give of artificial muscle beneath your fingertips, just enough to hold him there—and sink onto his ten inch cock.

Trapped in the moment, in the need, in you, Connor cries the sweetest you’ve ever heard him, so you wait just a moment before saying what he wants to hear.

“I love you,” you breathe, and his whole body jerks, the binded pull of his wrists sending a sharp gasp from his lips, but he bucks up into your velvet heat unapologetically.

It’s too much, you think. Too much and not enough.

And you don’t know which one of you is closer to breaking first.

Your name is warm in the air between you, still trembling on Connor’s lips like something sacred. You watch as it lingers in the depths of his eyes, behind the rapid flickering of his LED, somewhere between a malfunction and pure devotion.

“I love you,” his words are shaky but he stays still; it may be his first time but he knows even you will need time to adjust.

You let him tremble. Let the heat simmer beneath his synthetic skin. Let the bindings keep his hands from reaching for you, from clawing at you in desperate, unscripted need. You wonder if he even knows how much he’s changed—how far from his original programming he’s strayed.

Or maybe this was always there, buried deep, waiting for you to bring it to the surface.

You stroke your thumb over his bottom lip, pressing just lightly enough to feel the soft, yielding texture. Synthetically smooth, yes, but warm, pliant—so perfectly imperfect that it makes your stomach twist. He parts his lips just barely, just enough for his breath to ghost against your fingertip, warm and shuddering.

“You don’t know what you do to me,” you murmur, more to yourself than to him, but Connor hears everything. He always does.

He swallows hard. You can see the artificial tension ripple through his throat, the subtle flutter of muscle beneath synthetic skin. His LED pulses in rapid succession—yellow, yellow, yellow—processing at speeds beyond human comprehension, yet he’s so utterly lost.

And he loves it.

“You—you are—” He tries, but his voice breaks, and you can’t help but smile.

“I know,” you whisper. And you do.

You dip your head, just enough to press your lips against his jaw—soft, reverent. The sigh that leaves him is so human it makes your chest ache. You trail lower, tracing the column of his throat, feeling the static-hummed heat radiating off him in waves.

“I want to touch you,” he confesses, his voice breaking somewhere between a plea and a demand.

You glance at his wrists, bound so prettily above his head, the glowing threads of the custom-made restraints casting faint halos of light against his skin. He strains against them, but only just—only enough to feel the pull, the reminder that he is at your mercy.

You press a kiss to the hollow of his throat, feeling the way he shudders beneath you, the way his body jerks involuntarily, a system pushed to its limit. “I know,” you say again, and this time, you kiss the pulse point just below his jaw, where a human’s heartbeat would be.

He gasps sharply, the sound catching at the back of his throat, something unfiltered, raw.

“So- so hot,” he panted, “so much.”

He is so close.

Not just to this—this moment, this breaking point—but to something deeper. Something neither of you have words for yet.

Your fingers slide down his chest, slow, deliberate. Every touch is a choice. Every press of your fingertips is an unspoken promise.

And Connor, your perfect machine, your perfect Connor—

He is waiting to be undone.

You lift your hips, taking in his precious look of abandonment before seeing it crumble to pieces when you slink back down.

“Don’t worry, baby; I’ve got you.”

You ball your fists and place them on Connors stabilizing pecks, thanking his muscles for letting you set a brutal pace.

He lurches and shouts your name, letting it echo through the room as he thrashes beneath you.

“So pretty, you cry so fucking pretty, Connor.”

He sobs at that, and you really think this cheeky brat is playing the part; you can’t prove it and it kills you.

Finally comfortable in the rapid clench onto his cock as it pierces into you, crushing your cervix, and rising in a rock, you let your fingers splay on his chest.

He whines and shakes his head as you prod his nipples gently, circling the rim and pinching until they’re hard beneath the pads you press against them. Coyly, probably because he’s crying so very much, you take one between your front teeth.

You close your lips around and suck, lavishing in how his face morphed into despaired pleasure. Connor was practically a puddle of tears, spit, and cum.

“My pretty baby, you’re doing so good.” You kiss him again, holding his face with one hand and the back of his head in the other.

He begins to rock up into you, and you feel your tits drag against his chest with the force of it.

“Ah, ha!” You hiss.

“Can’t stop,” he calls your name like a desperate plea, “i’m sorry, so sorry, I’m so sorry-”

He continues on like that, all the while fucking up into you. You grab onto his shoulders, thank god you can get a grip on his muscles like a rock-wall.

“Guhh-” He fucks you high enough that you can catch a breath and mentally get a grip. Sitting up straight, Connor can fuck much deeper up into you.

From this angle, though, you can glare disapprovingly down at him.

“Naughty thing.”

You pinch his nipples sharply, rolling your hips and keeping pace. You let one hand trace to where his thirium pump is- tap it lightly.

“God you are gorgeous though. So pretty, pretty enough you could get away with anything. I didn’t get it before, why people hated pretty girls so much. Now I do.”

You lean into his ear and see him shake, “My pretty girl.”

Thick bursts of warm liquid saline fills you and, as it hits your cervix, you only let the grief of his inorganic origins hurt you for a second before you shudder and kiss all over his face.

“You did such a good job, you were perfect, Connor.” You pet through his hair, soft and kind while he comes back to earth in his own time.

You keep up the constant stream of praise and coos while you release him from his restraints, making it all the way into his arm before he seems to click back to consciousness.

He turns onto his side to mirror you, taking in your face with a serious look all over his face.

“You didn’t orgasm.”

“Ha!”

Even as he pulls away you press tight against his chest. “We’ve been in a one-sided sexual relationship since the start. Let me pay my dues, love, please?”

He ducks his head something shy and pretty, looking up at you through thick lashes; “It wasn’t one-sided.”

You take his chin in your right hand and lift it so you can kiss him hard, “God, I love you.”

He wraps his arms around your waist, pulling you against him properly now; legs intertwined and your head tucked neatly in his neck. “I love you, too.”

#dbh #dbh connor #connor rk800 #dbh rk800 #rk800 #dbh x reader #connor x reader #connor x you #dbh x you #detroit become human #detroit become human x you #dbh smut #dbh x reader smut #detroit: become human #detroit: bh #connor smut #connor rk800 x reader #connor rk800 x reader smut

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societyfolklore · 10 days ago

Note

Will u do a part 2 for “open for me” with new tech? THIS HAS TO EH MY FAV TONY X YN STORY EVER

I know this took a while..

Controlled Input

Title: Controlled Input Pairing: Tony Stark x Female Reader Summary: You're the most put-together woman at the Stark Gala. Until the StarkTech prototype inside you starts pulsing to Tony's voice in your ear. You knew he had plans tonight. You just didn’t know they included orgasm denial, public humiliation, and a ruined orgasm in the elevator. Word Count: 4.1k Warnings: 18+ / Explicit content Minors DNI, Orgasm denial, Remote control vibrator, Public sex kink, Ruined orgasm, Exhibitionism, Power play, Possessive dirty talk, Voice kink, Teasing & Control, StarkTech smut, Slight degradation, Smutty unprotected sex AN: This idea was originally one I did plan for the Orgasm Denial Square for the AAkinky bingo, but went with the Loki idea instead... kinda feel it does work for the part 2.. (I'll let you be the judge of that

The Stark Gala was its usual mess of elegance and ego: Manhattan skyline glittering beyond glass walls, lights refracting off thousand-dollar gowns, champagne flutes clinking with laughter that didn’t quite reach the eyes.

You looked perfect. Sleek satin gown in a shade Tony had once called ‘fuck-me red’ diamond drop earrings, and heels high enough to make your legs look long without making you wobble.

No one here had any idea what you were hiding under that dress. But he did.

Tony Stark stood on the other side of the ballroom, sipping champagne, charm weaponized. His tux was classic. Sharp. Clean lines and reckless magnetism. He looked like a man capable of breaking rules and making you beg for more.

Your ear buzzed.

"Comms test," came his voice, smooth as sin. "You hearing me, sweetheart?"

Your breath caught. "Loud and clear."

"Good girl."

The moment you heard it, that indulgent, knowing tone right before the device inside you stirred to life.

It was small. A slim internal prototype he'd insisted on installing personally in the lab just before, licking his fingers clean afterward and telling you not to be late. Made of surgical-grade silicone, moulded precisely to your shape, The prototype wasn’t just nestled inside you. It felt like two of his fingers had been left behind, curled up inside. The base sat snug between your parted folds, flush as if the palm of Stark’s hand still cupped you. Each embedded sensor tracked every twitch, flutter, and subtle contraction from within, and that special watch around your wrist picked up all the biometric data he could ask for.

"Remember, you can't come right away. Got to test this little invention out properly…" Tony murmured, voice like silk and sin, just as the toy shifted inside you, the tip of the toy felt like it moved under the silicone skin, gentle pulsing rubs up against that bundle of nerves.

Your lips parted. You swallowed the gasp with a practiced smile, nodding at a photographer who snapped a couple of shots all while the toy pulsed gently inside you. Deep and slow. Measured. A warning shot.

Tony chuckled in your ear. "That one was level two. Think you can handle level six in heels?"

The words slithered through your earpiece just as your hand tightened instinctively around your clutch, knuckles white. Your breath hitched, a subtle gasp escaping before you could swallow it down. As if on cue, the toy inside you responded switching from that teasing thrum to a deeper, rolling vibration that pressed up against your g-spot, making your thighs twitch beneath your gown.

Your calves flexed as you struggled to walk in a straight line, making a proper effort to move naturally. The polished floor shimmered beneath the lights, and the faint chime of clinking glass cut through the ambient music. A spotlight drifted lazily across the room, illuminating sequined dresses and sharp suits as you passed. Deep breaths... Focus on something, anything else but the feeling.

You stood by the bar, fingers wrapped too tightly around your flute, trying to keep your knees from locking. Then the toy shifted, not just a vibration, but movement. A slow, deliberate pressure rolled inside you, like something stirring. The tip curled slightly, nudging your g-spot in a pulsing rhythm that made your thighs tighten and your walls flutter involuntarily. It was a firm, focused pressure, the kind that sent sharp sparks of pleasure rippling up your spine and left you clenching around the toy in helpless response. Slick heat pooled deep, your body aching to be filled, to grind down onto that exact point of contact until the pressure tipped you over but Tony wouldn’t allow that. Not yet. Just as you adjusted to that, a voice broke through your focus.

"Hey! I thought that was you."

You turned sharply, heart skipping a beat- not from the voice, but the toy that chose that exact moment to flutter across your clit. It felt like a pulse and roll, like a mechanical exhale brushing over your nerves in waves.

The woman in front of you looked vaguely familiar. Blonde. Bright smile. Maybe... Grants department?

"Hi," you managed, blinking through the heat. "Sorry, I- "

"Didn’t mean to startle you," she laughed. "I'm Rachel. We spoke on the funding alignment last quarter? You were amazing in that meeting."

You nodded, hoping your smile passed for polite instead of strained. Every inch of your body felt like it was vibrating, your knees barely holding.

Inside, the toy curled again. A long, slow drag against your g-spot that nearly buckled your knees. As if sensing you were distracted, it pulsed harder then stilled for a half-second.

Rachel kept talking. Something about budget reallocations. You nodded along, praying to every god Tony hadn’t hacked the volume up again.

He had.

A sudden, subtle hum thrummed through your core. Then the base of the toy shifted slightly against your clit, teasing the lips apart to apply more direct pressure. You could feel it those whispering rollers, like little metal bearings spinning under silk, brushing your clit with maddening, teasing precision. Each pass sent heat jolting through your core, a wicked, circling pressure that made your clit throb and your legs tremble. It wasn’t just stimulation, it was torment, perfectly calibrated to keep you swollen, needy, and seconds from falling apart.

Your breath hitched. Rachel didn’t notice.

"We’re actually opening another round of disaster relief grants next month," she said, eyes sparkling. "If you have time to consult, I’d love to put your name in."

"Yes," you gasped too quickly. "I mean, that’d be great. That sounds great."

Tony's voice slid across your earpiece, like honey down your spine. "Smile, baby. Don’t be rude."

Across the room, Tony tapped something on his phone. A slow smirk pulling at his lips.

The toy fluttered fast against your clit. The g-spot stim went deep. Then everything stopped. Restarted. It felt like a rhythmic chant of need and denial. A full-body sync that had your thighs twitching under your dress.

"Wonderful," Rachel said, utterly unaware. "I’ll send something through next week. Enjoy the rest of the gala!"

You watched her walk away. Trembling. Glowing with shame. The toy buzzed slower now, drawing out each pulse like it was savoring the tension.

Your breath came hard and shallow. You couldn’t remember if you’d even blinked during the entire conversation. The heat between your legs was molten.

Then, softly, in your ear:

"Come here."

The toy responded with every step you took. The floor was dense with bodies and polite expectation. Each small hello, each handshake, each coworker who stopped to compliment your gown or mention the quarterly report became its own personal torture.

You smiled. Nodded. Struggled to keep your breaths shallow. And every time you were delayed, every time someone said your name, asked for a minute, held your elbow to steer you into conversation.

Each time your path was blocked, the toy responded like it was wired to your frustration. Deep internal throbs. Featherlight clit flickers that danced maddening circles over your swollen bud. Your walls fluttered helplessly, slick and aching around the relentless toy. Every pulse dragged slick arousal down your thighs, every flick across your clit made your hips twitch with the urge to grind down against it- desperate for friction, for more, for permission. A maddening spiral of stimulation that had you gripping desperately to hold it back, your body trembling on the edge with no way to fall.

When you finally reached him, the muscles in your thighs were tight from restraint. Your face burned with effort and shame.

He didn’t even look at you at first, just took a slow sip of his drink. Then, gently, his hand brushed the small of your back.

You shuddered.

"Took your time," he murmured. "Was that rude of me, darling?"

You pulse and the toy rewarded you with another deep throb that made your knees knock, your hand flying out to grab his thigh next to you, fingers digging into the fabric of his suit pants. You squeezed, needing something- anything- to anchor you as the sensation speared through your core.

"...Tony..." Was all you managed to gasp out, voice trembling, barely audible over the soft music drifting through the ballroom.

He turned just slightly, his breath warm against the shell of your ear. "Shhh," he whispered, dragging the sound out like silk. "You’re doing so well."

Friday's voice chimed in again, sharp and indifferent to your struggle. "Cervical contact pressure escalating. Pulse rhythm confirmed. User pelvic tension increasing. Lubrication levels continue to rise. Core temperature 1.4 degrees above baseline."

You whimpered, pressing your thighs together instinctively, but it only made things worse. The toy responded to pressure, he designed it that way. Every squeeze fed it more data. Every twitch made it pulse harder.

You swayed a little in your heals as the Mayor of New York started his speech.

Tony smiled, whispering against your ear again, voice thick with smug amusement. "What did I just say about behaving, sweetheart? You’re acting like you want everyone to see you fall apart. Is that what you want? You want to be my pretty little mess in front of everyone?" You shook your head, but the heat between your thighs told a different story.

Tony's voice was a low buzz against your ear. "Biofeedback shows me everything, baby. I thought you'd enjoy this little game."

"Just enjoying the party," you said sweetly, managing a smile as a board member turned to give Tony a small wave.

"Liar," Tony spoke through his forced smile waving back. "You're dripping, aren't you? Let me check." You tried not to panic. Only relaxing when he pulled out his phone instead of shoving his hand through the slit in your dress.

Tony looked down at his phone. Then the toy throbbed hard. Once. Twice. A deeper pulse that had your knees nearly buckling.

"Oh yeah," he hummed. "Slippery little thing, aren’t you?"

The mayor launched into an anecdote about disaster relief. You clamped down harder, trying not to feel the slick heat sliding down your thighs.

Friday's voice cut through the comms, clinical as ever. "Lubrication levels elevated. Heart rate 114 BPM. External tremors detected in quadriceps."

Tony laughed. You could hear the ice clink in his glass.

"Keep clenching, baby. Every squeeze makes it worse. And if you cum before I say so? We're doing this again. In front of the Avengers."

You bit the inside of your cheek. And just like that, he left you alone- quivering, the mayor’s voice a haze in your ears. You stood frozen for a moment, your whole body tense, throat dry. Then the sound of applause snapped you back, and somehow you made it twenty more minutes. You moved around more, drifting from group to group with a flute in hand, laughing too hard at bad jokes, sipping champagne you barely tasted. Your core pulsed in rhythm with the toy, and you swore it knew every time you tried to relax. During a brief conversation with Maria Hill, you prayed she wouldn’t comment on the sweat clinging to your back or the glazed look in your eyes. Each passing minute felt like a test and Tony was tracking every answer.

As you smiled and nodded through more pleasantries, your thighs flexed with every low throb from the device buried inside you. The weight of it, the heat, the pressure; it was getting harder to stay poised. Harder to hide that you were dripping.

You weren’t sure how much longer you could last before Tony appeared beside you again, his presence a gravitational shift.

"Hey there, gorgeous," he murmured, pressing a kiss to your cheek. His hands stayed respectfully high, but his tone was anything but innocent. "Looking a little flushed."

"It’s warm in here," you whispered, breath catching slightly.

"Mhm." He leaned in, the scent of whiskey and cedar curling around you like silk. His breath ghosted over your ear. "Let’s take this upstairs. You’ve got five minutes to hold it. Think you can manage that - or should I keep edging you in the elevator?"

Your mouth went dry. The toy pulsed once, sharp, deliberate- like it wanted to hear your answer too.

He guided you through the crowd with a hand on your lower back, polite nods exchanged like nothing was wrong like you weren’t soaked and shaking and seconds from crumbling. The elevator ride up to the penthouse was pure, silent torture.

Tony didn’t touch you at first. He leaned against the wall like a man waiting on a taxi- casual, collected, maddening. His eyes dragged down your body, pausing where your thighs trembled and your hand gripped the railing too tightly.

Then the doors slid shut. And the toy surged to life.

A low, grinding pulse dragged across your g-spot, slow and deliberate. Beneath it, the rollers under the base reawakened, circling your clit with maddening precision, each flick like the kiss of heat lightning.

You staggered slightly, jaw slack, chest rising in shallow gasps. Your heels wobbled beneath you, and one hand flew out, fingers scrabbling uselessly at the air before catching the railing for balance. The other clutched your clutch bag like it might tether you to reality. "Please," you breathed, voice shaking, not even sure what you were asking for. Relief? Permission? Mercy?

Tony tilted his head. "Sensitive already? Thought this was supposed to be a test, not a total meltdown."

You whimpered, clutching the railing harder. "It’s too much."

"You say that every time I’m right."

Your thighs closed and the toy responded; a firmer roll that nearly made your knees buckle. You bit your lip, tried to hold still, but every shift of your body only triggered a new surge.

Tony pushed off the wall and circled behind you, standing close but not touching. His breath ghosted over your neck. "You're really going to fall apart in here, huh? I barely even touched you."

You shook your head. You couldn’t remember anything but this- his voice, the toy, the ache. .

"T-Tony- "

"What is it, sweetheart? Want me to turn it off? Or do you want to come?"

The toy pulsed again, firmer. You nearly dropped to your knees.

Friday’s voice buzzed into your ear, unfeeling and cold. "Orgasm threshold: 96%. Clitoral sensitivity: critical. User response: unstable."

"You're about to make a mess in here, aren't you?" Tony asked, one hand ghosting down your back. "After all that control you showed tonight... this is how you want to end it?"

You sobbed out a breath, your body twitching as you tried to hold it back. Your muscles were locking up, desperate to release. Your cunt milking so tightly around the toy you could feel your slick coating everything, dripping, pulsing.

"Let go," he whispered, voice thick with satisfaction. "Come for me, baby. Right here."

You didn’t have a choice. The orgasm hit like a crash. You came so hard it stole the air from your lungs. The toy didn’t slow, it thrummed right through you, drawing the orgasm out, making your hips jerk and your thighs shake.

You sobbed into the space between you, forehead pressed to the mirror paneling as your body finally gave in.

Every tease from the night, all the near-misses and false starts- had sharpened your nerves to glass. You weren’t just desperate now. You were raw.

Tony let out a soft hum, watching you fight for control. "Poor thing. You lasted all night just to lose it in a metal box."

Your hips jerked forward involuntarily. The pressure was unbearable, too much and not enough all at once. You tried to breathe, but it was like every muscle in your body was clenching, trying to trap that orgasm and force it back. But you couldn’t.

And he knew it.

Tony watched you shake, one brow lifted. His hand slid lightly down your spine, resting just above your ass.

"There you go," he murmured with a smile. "Perfect little toy isn't it."

The elevator doors slid open with a soft chime. Tony stepped out first, unhurried, already tugging the knot of his tie loose as he walked toward the sunken living room. You followed a half-step behind, legs shaky, your hands fluttering at your sides like they didn’t know where to land.

He dropped the tie over the back of the couch and leaned against it, rolling his sleeves up with the lazy precision of a man who knew he had time- and control. You tried to straighten up, but your body still trembled from the elevator, nerves misfiring beneath your skin.

He looked at you. Really looked.

And then reached for his belt.

The soft whisper of leather sliding through loops made your breath catch.

"You think you earned it, sweetheart? After that little display?"

You didn’t answer. Couldn’t. Your knees dipped but you stopped yourself. Instead, you stepped forward, trembling, drawn to him like gravity.

Tony pulled the belt free in one clean motion, but didn’t drop it. Instead, he let it hang loose at his side while the other hand slid up beneath the slit of your dress, fingers brushing over the soaked curve of your mound the firm base of the toy still pressed against your clit.

"Still sensitive?" he murmured.

You gasped, nodding faintly, and reached for the back of your dress. The zipper came down with a low hum. Silk pooled to the floor.

Tony’s eyes dragged down your body as his foot nudged your legs farther apart. "Hold still," he said, lowering himself to his knees.

His fingers found the base of the toy, tugging slowly. Your cunt locked down, not wanting to let it go. The stretch was sudden and overwhelming, your muscles fluttering from overstimulation.

Tony smiled as he eased it free.

He brought the toy to his lips and licked it once, slowly, deliberately, like he had back in the lab when he’d tasted you from his fingers.

Then he leaned in and gave your pussy the same treatment.

You gasped, thighs quaking.

"Taste test complete," he said smoothly, rising to his feet.

He sank down onto the couch, shoving his suit pants and briefs down just enough to free his cock- thick, flushed, glistening at the tip. He set the toy on the side table like a prized instrument, then reached for your hand and pulled you gently between his legs.

"Come here."

You climbed into his lap, straddling him as he settled back, the heat of his body radiating through his shirt where your chest pressed flush to him.

He hissed through his teeth as your slick folds met the thick weight of him. “Fuck. Love it when you’re ready for me, sweetheart. All wet and aching.”

You nodded, breathless, hips shifting with need as the swollen head of his cock slid through the mess between your thighs, nudging teasingly at your entrance. The anticipation crackled like static under your skin.

You sank down slow, gasping at the first tight push, your body stretching wide to take him. The pressure was exquisite, a burn that made your toes curl and your fingernails dig into his shoulders. Inch by inch, your cunt gave way, fluttering, clenching around the intrusion as your walls adjusted to his size.

“Fuck,” he groaned, jaw tighten, watching you with heat-darkened eyes. “Still so tight. Can feel you dripping around me already.”

He filled you to the hilt, every inch of him locked deep inside, your cunt flushed and snug around him like you were made for this- made for him. The stretch pushed against that swollen, tender ache inside you, and your whole body shuddered, overwhelmed, but greedy for more.

You braced yourself, pressing your chest to his as your arms curled around his neck. The fabric of his shirt was still warm, slightly rough against your peaked nipples. His arc reactor pressed firm against your sternum, cool metal in contrast to the fever between your legs.

You moved slowly at first, tiny, aching rolls of your hips, each one sending sparks through your overstimulated body. His hands slid up your thighs to your hips, fingers digging in.

"That's it, baby," he rasped, jaw tight as he watched your face. "Use me. Just like that."

You moaned into his neck, body rocking in tight, desperate circles. Every drag of his cock sent another ripple through your still-sensitive walls. It was overwhelming, intoxicating, the pressure, the heat.

"Fuck, you're perfect like this," he growled, pulling you down harder. "Wrecked and still hungry for more."

You found your rhythm, hips rolling and lifting with slow, needy grace, every thrust slick and frictionless, each motion more desperate than the last. He filled you so deep it made your eyes flutter, your core tightening around him as you chased your own edge again.

Your hands tightened behind his neck, your chest pressed flush to his. The rough brush of his shirt against your nipples sent jolts through you, sharp and distracting, as if your entire body was made of open nerve endings. His cologne; amber and ozone, it clung to your skin, dizzying.

Tony’s gaze never left you. Possessive. Lidded. He watched your face like he was cataloguing each flutter of your lashes, each trembling moan. “Look at me when you cum,” he murmured, voice thick and hungry. “Let me see how pretty you get when you fall apart.”

You whimpered into his neck, grinding harder, the sound of your slick body meeting his echoing obscenely off the penthouse walls. He was so deep, his cock dragging perfectly along that raw, oversensitive spot that had you sobbing out broken breaths against his skin.

His hands slid from your hips to your ass, holding you open, guiding each movement with subtle force. His mouth found your shoulder, teeth sinking in just enough to mark, to claim. “Feel that? That’s me everywhere. All night and still not enough for you.”

Your orgasm crept closer, tighter, your body a lit fuse. Your arms locked around his neck, burying your face against his throat as you rode it out, hips stuttering, thighs trembling. Your cunt pulsed wildly around him, holding like you didn’t want to let him go.

Tony’s head dropped back against the couch, a ragged groan ripping from his throat. “Gonna fucking come- fuck, baby- ride it just like that.”

You were still grinding when he spilled into you, hips jerking up as he pressed you down, cock twitching deep inside. His moan was low, raw, shameless, his eyes glued to your face as you both came apart together, messy and breathless and utterly ruined.

Your head stayed tucked into the crook of his neck, your body soft and boneless against him, every part of you still twitching in the aftermath. Your thighs ached. Your walls still fluttered occasionally around his cock, overstimulated and stretched. The wet, obscene heat of where your bodies joined soaked into the expensive fabric under you, but Tony didn’t care. He didn’t shift. He didn’t pull out.

Instead, his hand rubbed soothing circles up your spine. “You handled that tech better than I thought you would,” he said, voice rough and amused.

You hummed, dazed. “That… wasn’t… a fair test.”

He grinned into your hair. “You’re right. But it made for great data. Friday’s got six orgasm threshold points, four biofeedback spikes, and two shamefully perfect audio samples.”

You groaned, burying your face deeper in his collar. “You recorded that?”

“Of course I did.” He tapped a knuckle lightly against the back of your neck. “For science.”

You shivered, not from cold. You were still sitting on him, his softening cock still buried inside you. He was growing hard again.

You felt it. So did he.

His hand slid down to your hip. “Round two?”

You lifted your head, eyes glassy but teasing. “I thought this was about the prototype.”

“It is.” He grabbed the toy from the side table and spun it between his fingers, still glistening. “Only now your pussy’s full, and I still have data to gather.”

He glanced down between your bodies, smirked, then lifted the toy thoughtfully. “How do you feel about… multitasking?”

Your breath hitched.

Tony guided the toy lower- not toward your clit this time, but behind you, his touch suggestive.

“Tony- ”

He didn’t press in. Not yet. Just let the slick head tease the sensitive rim as he whispered, “Shhh. Let’s see how well you handle a secondary input.”

You trembled, already fluttering around him, helpless against the idea.

“Still part of the test,” he added with a wink.

And just like that, the next phase began.

#marvel smut #Tony Stark fic #Tony Stark smut #Tony Stark x female reader #Tony Stark x reader #Tony Stark x you #Tony Stark imagine #Iron Man smut #Iron Man x female reader #Iron Man x reader #x female reader #smut #Tony Stark x fem!reader #TonyStark #Iron Man Fic #Iron Man Imagine #Dark!Tony Stark #Avengers Smut

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camaelias · 1 month ago

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Sunny Winter Day

CHAPTER 1 - The Man Across the Hall

CHAPTER 2 - The Winter Soldier

CHAPTER 3 - Whispers in the wall

CHAPTER 4 - Black Coffee and Cookie

CHAPTER 5 - Ambient Empathy

Pairing : Grumpy Winter Soldier x Sunshine Reader

Tags : enemies to lovers, angst, slow burn

PLOT : You and Bucky have a really nice chat

CHAPTER 6 - Do you want to stay ?

Bucky had a plan, it was clear and simple : a routine Level 4 perimeter stress test ordered by Fury, executed by him, reviewed by no one but the top brass...voilà, clean and efficient

Then you overheard

And now he was crouched behind a fake ficus plant, gloved hand wrapped around his earpiece while watching you through narrowed eyes as you stood across the corridor with the brightest, childish smile ever

He shook his head with a little amused smile “This is a terrible idea,” he muttered in the earcom, not for the first time

“Oh, absolutely,” you whispered with sparkling eyes “But it’s a fun terrible idea”

He gave you a look. You just beamed wider, tilting your head...

“You said the cameras need to be tested under non-standard patterns of movement,” you stage-whispered, bouncing slightly on your heels like a kid about to pull the world’s best prank“And what’s more non-standard than me sprinting across the corridor in socks?”

“I said controlled deviations,” he hissed

You shrugged “Controlled chaos is still controlled”

Bucky didn’t respond, just exhaled slow through his nose like someone mentally reviewing every mistake he’d ever made that led him here

Which, fair

“You looped the feeds, right?” you asked sweetly, chin tilted just enough to draw his attention to the line of your jaw

“Ninety seconds,” he muttered “If you trip the motion sensors-”

“I won’t”

“You will”

“I won’t”

“You-”

You were already halfway across the hall

Your pastel pink socks slid on the polished floor as you flailed like a startled deer, arms pinwheeling, laughter biting your lip as you caught yourself at the last second. On the other hand, Bucky who was crouched in all-black tactical gear like a shadow come to life, somehow looked both exasperated and… entertained

He bit back a smile (and failed) as you slammed into the wall beside him with a soft thump

“Stealth queen,” you whispered

“You’re going to get me fired,” he muttered with a half smile while standing. You tilted your head, hair spilling over your shoulder, and Bucky had the sudden visceral urge to tuck it behind your ear

“Nah,” you said “You’re irreplaceable...and besides! ” your voice dropped, mischief curling at the edges, “this was Fury’s idea”

“That makes it worse,” he looked at you with a raised eyebrow, blue eyes that looked a little bit greyer today, trying not to look directly at your mouth “He’s gonna pop out of the vents and kill us”

You grinned, wolfish “Not if we finish the test first”

He sighed

“Alright doll,” he said “Security feed is looping for the next two minutes"

He crouched in front of the keypad by the reinforced server door pulling a sleek black device from his pocket. You leaned over his shoulder, breath ghosting across the nape of his neck. You smelled like levender and static and whatever clean bed sheet sundrying in summer sunlight would smell like if it came in perfume form

Bucky’s jaw flexed

“What’s that?” you asked softly, eyes wide and curious

“Magic,” he replied giving you a brief sideye. He clicked the device into place, it beeped once sharp and confident and he keyed in a rapid sequence of numbers then - click

The lock disengaged. He turned back to you, holding the door open a few inches “Agent Sunshine,” he said mock-formally, palm out. His hand was warm even throught the glove and his fingers curled just slightly around yours... steady, sure, careful.

Inside the server room was dark except for a hundred tiny blinking lights : blue, red, gold... a constellation of data. The air was cool and humming with electricity. He pulled you both into the narrow gap between two massive towers of tech

You were chest-to-chest, breathing each other’s air

He could feel the heat of you, smell the faint levender on your skin. He didn’t move. Didn’t speak. Just looked down.

And you - God help him - you looked up at him with those wide, curious eyes and a grin pulling at the corner of your mouth like you were actively trying to kill him. You meant to say something witty, maybe even mock him a little but then your brain short-circuited

After a beat of charged silence you raised your brows “Don’t tell me you’re blushing,” you whispered low and dangerous, like a dare

“I’m not blushing,” he muttered

“Sure you’re not,” you smiled "You know," you teased, a wicked glint in your eye, "you talk a big game, Barnes...but I bet you’re all bark and no bite"

"Is that right, doll?" he murmurs, voice a dark purr, and before you can even blink his hand slides around your waist, strong, sure, and tugs you flush against him. You can feel the heat of him, the roughness of his jacket, the slow thump of his heart against yours. His eyes where locked in yours, his pupils so black that you almost couldn't see the blue anymore, and as you were breathing in his musky scent you saw something flicker behind them. It felt like hesitation, like fear, you could't tell if he was making an active effort to let go off you or pulling you closer. Bucky's eyes flickered to your lips, slightly parted, and you noticed how his throat worked as he swallowed. He left out a tiny, shaky breath, his face suddenly felt so close to yours the tips of your noses were almost brushing

And then

A loud metallic thud

The door sealed shut

You blinked “...is that supposed to happen?”

He sighed, the took a step back and the cold of the distance between you made you shiver for a second. He dragged a hand down his face as he stepped out from between the servers “No”

You followed like a shadow, soft and golden

“That’s why I was supposed to test it,” he added frowning “Sometimes the override glitches. We’re gonna be stuck here for a while”

You felt the air cold on your burning cheeks but brushed it off as you leaned back against a humming tower of tech, legs crossed at the ankles like this was a casual hangout and not a classified ops fuck-up

“Well,” you said, kicking your socked feet against the metal floor, “good thing you’re stuck with me and not Stark”

And Bucky, who had spent years surviving war, torture, programming, and loss... chuckled. He shook his head and chuckled. You sighed and sat down on the floor, one leg bent under you, one kicked lazily out like you were sunbathing in Central Park and not locked in the world’s most secure server room

“I mean...this is cozy,” you said looking around like this was a five-star suite “You ever think about redecorating? Mood lighting’s doing a lot of the heavy lifting”

You wiggled your socked toes in the ambient blue glow of the server lights and flashed him a big childish smile...quiet, spontaneous, completely unbothered. He glanced down at you, something tugging faintly at the corner of his mouth

You were ridiculous, really a sunshine with a pulse, and the worst part was that you didn’t try. There were people who were charming like it was a job, a mask, he had studied them so that he could replicate it in Hydra`s missions but you? You were just...like this. Laughing in the dark in socks.

He crouched nearby, arms on his knees, trying very hard not to look directly at the way your hair had fallen into your eyes.

“So,” you said after a moment, peeking up at him through your lashes “What’s the backup plan, Mr. Security Chief?”

“Wait it out. Radio goes out when the door seals, but it should trigger an alert eventually”

You tilted your head, all mock-innocence “Or… we could pass the time with a game”

He arched a brow “What kind of game?”

“The dangerous kind, ” You grinned brightly “You go first,” you added, sitting up straighter, legs now criss-crossed “Tell me something true, one real thing”

Bucky leaned back against the server rack as it hummed gently against his spine and thought about how you looked so at home in the dark.

He hesitated for a second

“I don’t like peaches, but...I like plums” he said at last

You gasped, actually gasped. One hand on your heart, the other pressed to the floor for dramatic support

“no peaches?” you exclaimed “How dare you”

He smirked, low and fast, the rare kind that didn’t feel like a reflex. You kicked your foot out and lightly bumped his shin. He shook his head trying not to smile “What about you?”

You tapped your chin then leaned in slightly as if confiding a state secret

“I once tried to smuggle a white cat out of a Hydra facility, wanted to call him Alpine”

He blinked

“It followed me into the vents,” you added, shrugging “Fury was not amused”

Bucky laughed. A short, sharp burst that surprised even him. It made you grin like you’d just won something

“I can’t tell if you’re brave or just chaos in human form,” he said still smiling and blue eyes locked on you, taking in every detail.

Need to study the target, to find a break in he tells to himself while he looks at the little crease in your forehead when you tried to be serious, the curve of your mouth when it held back a laugh, the light on your skin, soft and golden even here.

The room settled into a hush, not a heavy or awkward silence, just quiet. The kind of silence that happens when there’s nothing left to prove or hide.

You leaned back on your palms now, head tilted, hair fanning slightly across your shoulder. The glow from the servers threw little halos over your collarbone, catching the slight shimmer in your eyeshadow, the faint glint of a golden thread stitched through your sleeve

Bucky noticed that He noticed everything. He swallowed thickly, blinking hard

“What?” you asked softly, catching his gaze mid-thought

“Nothing,” he said too quickly

He sat with his back against one of the taller racks, the chill from the floor seeping through the seams of his pants. It grounded him and so did the faint vibration in the wall behind him, a reminder that the world was still spinning. Still working. That he (well, Hydra) hadn’t pulled it all down, yet

You weren’t looking at him, you were watching the floor or maybe something far behind it. Your lashes flickered softly with every blink, your expression unreadable but quiet

“You said you were military, right?”

Bucky didn’t flinch. He was ready for this question and he mentally went through the file of his cover

“Yeah,” he said carefully, adjusting his posture like it mattered “Army. Long time ago”

You nodded like that made sense “That explains the posture”

That drew the faintest twitch at the corner of his mouth “Didn’t like the cold” he added dryly “Or the… purpose”

That earned you the smallest, understanding smile, a sign that you were listening. You adjusted your posture, arms wrapping lightly around your knees now “so you left?” you asked

“You can't really leave that kind of world” A truth buried in lie

You hummed and Bucky almost hated how easy it was to listen to the sound. How warm it felt in his ears

“Do you miss something about it?”

The question hit him sideways

Did he miss it? The war, the reboots, the certainty of orders?

He’d never had the time to ask himself that, it's not like he never got to choose. His silence stretched just a second too long

“I miss… knowing what I was supposed to do” His voice sounded distant in his own ears “even when I hated it”

You nodded again, soft

“Are you happy here?”

He looked at you and for a second, just one, he forgot what he was supposed to say

Happy? Here?

This wasn’t his life, it was a cover story. An infiltration. He was Hydra’s metal fist. This wasn’t his place, not really. He was here to run the program, watch you, exploit the opening, slip into the vault without being seen. He didn’t get to be happy, he got to be useful.

But your voice was so open and so, so fucking genuine. You didn’t mean it as a threat, you just wanted to know

“I don’t know,” he finally answered. His voice was quieter now, low and fraying at the edges “I haven’t had time to think about what happy even looks like”

You tilted your head, curiosity brightening your eyes. You shifted slightly closer without realising it

And then, softly, plainly... “Do you want to stay?”

That question didn’t sound big in your mouth yet it detonated in his chest.

"Do you want to stay?"

Not can you Not should you Not are you assigned to

Want

He didn’t answer at first.

Didn’t trust his voice.

But something... maybe the dark, maybe your tone, maybe the sheer quiet of it all loosened the words from his chest before he could smother them

“I think I’d like to”

“Then stay,” you said. He blinked hard, looked down, his fingers flexed slightly against the floor, and for a second he didn’t know where to put his hands. His thoughts. Himself. There was a tightness behind his eyes he didn’t trust. His shoulders drew in just slightly as if he could brace against kindness like it was a blow

His voice came out quieter now, rougher

“Not many people would say that to someone like me”

You blinked, tilting your head

“Why not?”

Your tone wasn’t defensive, just… confused and honest, like you couldn’t imagine someone not saying that to him. He swallowed.

“My past is...” The words caught thick and bitter “It’s dark”

His chest tightened as memories of his life as the winter soldier flashed before his eye. He felt the fear again but not the enemy’s, his. Fear of forgetting, of becoming nothing again, gone in the ice until the next mission. His chest started to pull tighter, the room a little smaller now, colder... he tried to will the image away

Your voice came a second later “Dark doesn’t mean bad”

He looked at you but you didn’t look back yet. You were still watching that invisible point on the floor, lashes low, thoughtful

“People always say light is better,” you continued slowly, carefully choosing each word “but light demands something...It... exposes. It asks you to perform, you know? To...ugh, to shine and to be bright even when you’re not”

Your eyes met his again, gentle but direct

“But the dark… the dark lets you rest”

You paused, breathing in deep through your nose. You blinked once, twice, like you were tasting the weight of your next thought before releasing it

“It’s quiet there. Honest....mercyfull even"

He stared. You turned fully toward him, tucking one leg underneath the other, the fabric of your shirt shifting gently with the movement.

“I think your kind of dark,” you said with a soft smile, and this time your voice dipped even softer “might be the kind that keeps people warm, not afraid”

His breath hitched

He didn’t know what to say but somehow, in the stillness of that server room far from the steel operating tables, far from the hiss of sedatives and the burn of commands tattooed into his skull, something in him shifted. He looked at you but not as a mark, not as a mission, but as a person.

You, with your voice like velvet and your eyes that didn’t flinch, with your sleeves pushed up and a faint shimmer on your cheekbone, with the light on your fingertips fading gently now, not vanishing but just resting, with your shoulder half-lit by the server’s glow and the tiniest scar just below your jaw. He felt something warm and awful open in his chest. Not pain, not hope, just… something alive. For the first time in too many years to count he looked through his own eyes, not the Winter Soldier’s, just Bucky’s.

The door clicked open with a low whir and a flash of green across the panel, you blinked at it like you'd forgotten it was supposed to happen at all then stretched your arms above your head with a sleepy grin

“Well, crisis averted, server seduction complete”

Bucky stood slowly. His limbs felt heavier than they should’ve.

You walked out first, smiley and breezy like you hadn’t just made a former assassin question his entire constructed reality and he followed. The hallway was colder than he remembered. Too bright. Too open.

You glanced back at him over your shoulder “You okay?”

He nodded but the motion felt practiced “Yeah. Just gonna do a perimeter sweep”

You didn’t push, just smiled like you always did... a little amused, a little knowing, and saluted him with two fingers before turning the other way

Bucky stood there a second too long.

Then turned sharply and walked.

#bucky x reader #bucky x y/n #enemies to lovers #grumpy x sunshine #steve rogers #ao3 #captain america #marvel #winter solider x reader #thunderbolts #the new avengers

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stevebattle · 4 months ago

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Quester (1981) by David Buckley, London, UK. Quester was originally designed as a micromouse maze solver, taking part in the Wembley heats of the July 1981 Amazing Micromouse Contest, and in the September 1981 EUROMICRO competition in Paris. It was later converted into a general purpose robot with the addition of a gripper. It uses vision to detect the walls of the maze, and segmented bump sensors in case it doesn't, and uses a layered behaviour control program running on a 6502 based Acorn System 1. Quester was also a finalist in the Robotics Age "Home Robot Photo Contest" (1982), and ultimately won the Thezeus Award 1996 created and presented by Alan Dibley.

"The chassis consists of two main drive wheels with fore and aft casters. The drive wheels are hardboard disks with vacuum-cleaner belts for tires, each powered by a 6V DC motor. Via homemade shaft encoders the motors also drive two 8-bit up/down counters so that a preprogrammed path may be followed. Wire loops connected to micro-switches can be seen around the base - these provide reflexes through hardware timers on the interface board. Power comes from a 6V lead-acid battery in the central column which allows about three hours of service between charges. Twelve photo-transistors arranged as three pairs per side provide obstacle detection. One of each pair senses ambient light while the other is only sensitive to light from a particular direction. … At the front of the chassis are a pair of ultrasonic transducers for range-finding." – Quester, by David L. Buckley, Robotics Age, Jan/Feb 1982.

#cybernetics #robot #micromouse #1981 #David Buckley #maze solvers

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andmaybegayer · 3 months ago

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Did you manage to get any nice pictures of the fire spinners? One time I tried taking pictures of @astralarya, but it turns out getting nice pictures of fire spinners at night is photography on Ultra-Hard mode. I got one or two decent ones, but a pro photographer was there as well and said it’s almost impossible without a flash, which I didn’t have.

I was at the camera shop today and Sorely Tempted to grab a cheap 1.8 50mm for this but I ended up running with my 24-105 f/4, fortunately modern sensor tech is crazy good even at ISOs that would have ruined my old camera. Most of these probably won't work printed huge but they're perfectly serviceable at small-medium or online. I'll sift through these but here's some quick pulls with hastily thrown together edits to compensate for the noise. Definitely one of the situations where I think RAW really shows up, giving me a ton more latitude here. With a 2.8 on a Sony sensor you could really get the noise down.

I think if you're used to older cameras the one thing is to push your ISO way, way up. these are all 12800 or 25600, modern sensors (especially if you're not on Canon like me!) can do remarkable things even way up here, and you can push your shutter speed down a lot to get action solid in ambient light. These are mostly 1/200-ish, some as slow as 1/60 and some as fast as 1/400 depending on ambient light and vibes.

Flash I think would look pretty bad, flames aren't actually that bright so flashes tend to make them disappear, think taking a flash photo of a campfire, it just looks like ashes. You could maybe use a little flash to give you some breathing room on the face, or a continuous low-level light.

Also here's some video, both 30fps and 120fps slowmo. The raw video is a little better, here's an 8Mbps render of it.

youtube

(this group is Tribo Fuego)

#ask #eightyonekilograms #photography #fire spinning #poi spinning #tribo fuego #prague #czech republic #my photography

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babyprincegladiator · 10 months ago

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Sensores integrados de proximidad y luz ambiental, previsión del tamaño del mercado mundial, clasificación y cuota de mercado de las 19 principales empresas

Según el nuevo informe de investigación de mercado “Informe del Mercado Global del Sensores integrados de proximidad y luz ambiental 2024-2030”, publicado por QYResearch, se prevé que el tamaño del mercado mundial del Sensores integrados de proximidad y luz ambiental alcance 0.41 mil millones de USD en 2030, con una tasa de crecimiento anual constante del 4.3% durante el período de previsión.

Figure 1. Tamaño del mercado de Sensores integrados de proximidad y luz ambiental global (US$ Millión), 2019-2030

Según QYResearch, los principales fabricantes mundiales de Sensores integrados de proximidad y luz ambiental incluyen Sensortek, Broadcom, STMicroelectronics, SILICON LABS, ams-OSRAM AG, Melexis, Vishay, Sharp Corporation, Everlight, Rohm Semiconductor, etc. En 2023, las diez principales entidades mundiales tenían una cuota de aproximadamente 76.0% en términos de ingresos.

Figure 2. Clasificación y cuota de mercado de las 19 principales entidades globales de Sensores integrados de proximidad y luz ambiental (la clasificación se basa en los ingresos de 2023, actualizados continuamente)

Sobre QYResearch

QYResearch se fundó en California (EE.UU.) en 2007 y es una empresa líder mundial en consultoría e investigación de mercados. Con más de 17 años de experiencia y un equipo de investigación profesional en varias ciudades del mundo, QY Research se centra en la consultoría de gestión, los servicios de bases de datos y seminarios, la consultoría de OPI, la investigación de la cadena industrial y la investigación personalizada para ayudar a nuestros clientes a proporcionar un modelo de ingresos no lineal y hacer que tengan éxito. Gozamos de reconocimiento mundial por nuestra amplia cartera de servicios, nuestra buena ciudadanía corporativa y nuestro firme compromiso con la sostenibilidad. Hasta ahora, hemos colaborado con más de 60.000 clientes en los cinco continentes. Trabajemos estrechamente con usted y construyamos un futuro audaz y mejor.

QYResearch es una empresa de consultoría a gran escala de renombre mundial. La industria cubre varios segmentos de mercado de la cadena de la industria de alta tecnología, que abarca la cadena de la industria de semiconductores (equipos y piezas de semiconductores, materiales semiconductores, circuitos integrados, fundición, embalaje y pruebas, dispositivos discretos, sensores, dispositivos optoelectrónicos), cadena de la industria fotovoltaica (equipos, células, módulos, soportes de materiales auxiliares, inversores, terminales de centrales eléctricas), nueva cadena de la industria del automóvil de energía (baterías y materiales, piezas de automóviles, baterías, motores, control electrónico, semiconductores de automoción, etc.. ), cadena de la industria de la comunicación (equipos de sistemas de comunicación, equipos terminales, componentes electrónicos, front-end de RF, módulos ópticos, 4G/5G/6G, banda ancha, IoT, economía digital, IA), cadena de la industria de materiales avanzados (materiales metálicos, materiales poliméricos, materiales cerámicos, nanomateriales, etc.), cadena de la industria de fabricación de maquinaria (máquinas herramienta CNC, maquinaria de construcción, maquinaria eléctrica, automatización 3C, robots industriales, láser, control industrial, drones), alimentación, bebidas y productos farmacéuticos, equipos médicos, agricultura, etc.

#Sensores integrados de proximidad y luz ambiental #Integrated Proximity and Ambient Light Sensors

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callmearcturus · 10 months ago

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oh my gd that would be INCREDIBLE- the character building alone would be Fantastic, but fitting ethan and benji into a world where mutants are a thing??? i want to se how they each navigate that social strata, how ethan might try to use his mutation to disguise himself more, and how benji relates to his mutation (does he know? is it coincidence? is he just the luckiest sombitch alive?). anyway im in neither of these fandoms but i have been adoring your writing and now yearn for this fic.

oh lmao punct gave me the thumbs up to share a bit of what if mission impossible/x-men fusion

we have been watching the good xmen movies and obvsly were like "okay what would the mutations of the IMF team be" if this were an AU where they were, like, International Mutant Force or something less stupid

(well nothing is as stupid as Impossible Mission Force so--)

anyway right away: Ethan is a telepath, but we're kind of obsessed with telepathy as a power but also a disability that has to be constantly managed and accounted for. so:

Ethan is not an omega-level mutant like Charles Xavier or Jean Grey, but he's pretty powerful. His telepathy is tangled up in the way he falls a little in love with everyone he meets and is categorically unwilling to accept collateral damage on a mission. He finds it astonishingly easy to let his mind drape gossamer connections to everyone in his vicinity and is buoyed by the feelings he picks up on.

On the flipside: he is absolute dogshit at untangling himself, and it takes much longer for him, like fighting against some innate nature of his mutation. One way this manifests is sleeping; if Ethan is alone and sleeps, his unconscious mind will just drape over everyone in the vicinity and he has to untangle that for a while when he wakes. One way of dealing with this: early on, he asks Luther if he can hitch a ride in Luther's mind as he sleeps, so his telepathy will octopus around Luther while he sleeps, and it's much easier to untangle that in the morning.

On the scale of What Is He Capable Of: Covertly skim through minds for specific information: max one or two people at a time if he wants to keep hidden. any more and he can't be sneaky about it. Converse with people telepathically: 4 to 8, any more and his coherence frays badly Broadcast to people around him (maybe to alert to danger): CANNOT do so subtly, has been pushing this over the years from 20ish to double that to even more, but as he pushes himself more and more, he's more likely to just pass tf out or get a nosebleed Range?: The longer he's connected to someone's mind, the further away they can be and still be in Ethan's reach. Luther could be on the other side of the world and if Ethan really focuses, he can transmit an image or emotion or 'hey i'm alive.' Nothing beyond that but still.

Speaking of Luther, his mutation is extremely high perception of electricity and sonic fields. This manifests in several ways:

Luther can tell when something is powering on, can feel devices and machines around him and has an affinity for them, able to read them via touch or from hearing them when power is moving.

As he gets older and more honed in his work, he can grip a cable and get a sense of where the data is going/coming from, tracing things. The data moving through the air is tangible to him. He's a beast against any and all security systems, able to just feel where motion sensors and cameras are.

I think maybe he can learn to hold and redirect energy over time. He's never going to have lightning powers, but I can imagine him placing a hand on a wall outlet and pushing and shorting out a specific device in the room with an overcharge. But primarily, his power is observational.

BOY it has downsides. Luther is constantly struggling with overstimulation, and because it's not exactly sound or light, it's energy he can ambiently detect, he struggles a lot with controlling it and avoiding getting overwhelmed. Once he and Ethan are buddies, Ethan tends to just hitchhike in Luther's mind. When they're off the clock, he'll filter out all the extra stimulus. When they're on a mission, Ethan helps Luther cut out the superfluous information and humming energy so he can narrow in on what he's working on.

Those people who have Smart Houses where every device is somehow connected to wifi, Luther hates them so much. Just SO much. The proliferation of Google Homes and Connect With Alexa shit is going to turn him into a terrorist someday.

okay so Benji. lmao. here's where shit gets wild.

the thing about Benji is he doesn't know he has a mutation until he's an adult and working in the IMF as support analyst and tech. sure there's been some odd moments in his life. when he was a kid, he was in a car crash and somehow wound up outside the car and fine. and once he was riding a bike through his village and accidentally went down a hill, but managed to land the bike instead of winding up in a crumpled pile of limbs at the bottom. but maybe he was got lucky!

then an actual threat happens at the IMF and a gun goes off at Benji, and the world slows to a crawl. he can just... step out of the way, and the bullet eases by him. turns out, Benji sets off-- okay. it's either a time dilation effect or its superspeed. both are functionally the same, and i think the effect is undetectable to other people so no one knows for sure. but it only happens when Benji perceives himself to be in a life-or-death instance.

he also can give it to people by touch. if Benji's panic switch goes off, he can grab another person and move them and they'll perceive the same dilation he does. the IMF is overjoyed because this is extremely exploitable, and Benji gets rushed into the field because if a mission goes tits up, just shoot at Agent Dunn and he can cheat time.

Eventually, Benji gets assigned to work with Ethan bc the handlers figure Ethan is a telepath, he can just reach into Benji's mind and give him a shock and make him think he's about to die. Isn't that so much nicer than just shooting at him? But Ethan is a fucking telepath and clearly sees the extreme stress all of this has put Benji through. He never sets off the panic switch and more often uses his telepathy to soothe Benji's nerves than anything. Like with Luther, Ethan rides-along in Benji's head a lot.

This throws a wrench into Rogue Nation obvsly because Ethan hears "the IMF has been absorbed by the CIA" and he does not wait 6 months to reach out to the guy who can fuck with time if you threaten his life. because of course the fucking CIA starts experimenting, seeing how they can reliably set the panic switch off. they come up with a device like an epi-pen that can be used to basically give Benji an almost-heart attack but then Ethan breaks Benji tf out of Langley's grasp and tows him across the globe bc no one else can be trusted not to traumatize the shit out of Benji.

As Benji gets older and more adept at his power, he discovers a side-effect of Ethan being tied to his mind more often than not; Benji starts 'going off' when Ethan is in peril. ETHAN IS NOT AMUSED BY THIS because he risks his life all the time and now Benji's going off because of that where it gets tres interesting is that Benji has spent so long talking telepathically, he knows how to direct a thought at Ethan to get his attention (as does everyone who works with Ethan more than a few times). and if he telepathically taps on Ethan, he can pull Ethan into the dilation, even if they aren't touching. it's kind of all Ethan's fault; he's the clingiest telepath ever, and having accumulated years of connection to Benji has just urged Benji's mutation to expand in that direction.

anyway that's that

WE ALSO HAVE BEEN DELIBERATING ILSA POWERS, mostly along the lines of mimicry

one of the ideas I super liked was Ilsa being a power-mimic but she doesn't luck into innate understanding of how a power works, so it's very dangerous for her to borrow someone's power. like, an example we were kicking around was Ilsa accidentally picking up on Ethan's power and, not understanding how his telepathy grabs ahold of people, she accidentally ties her mind and Ethan's together the moment she gets his power, and they're Stuck for a while because Ethan can't untangle her knot and she is figuring out how tf it even works. it's a nightmare.

another idea was the Rogue Powerset, touch-based connection with its own pitfalls. Ilsa able to subtly touch a human and glean some information from them, but she has very little control over what info she gets. and once she touches them, they black out a bit, losing about a minute of time, which is just long enough for her to get out of there. but if she bumps into a mutant, she gets their power for a while instead, and it's messy and awkward and well, she wears long sleeves and gloves a lot is what I'm saying.

and Punct liked how Ilsa might self-select into spycraft because she needs to learn all these skills to protect herself, so she follows the career path and just keeps her power very very quiet, only using it when it's too useful to avoid. or on accident. for instance: when she meets Ethan and Ethan hurls himself into the fight and she touches his skin, Ilsa gets the telepathy juice. while Ethan is dazed from the contact, Ilsa uses the telepathy to sneak him out the back tunnel, then makes the other Syndicate members trust her so her cover isn't blown.

we also came up with a VERY FUN ONE for Grace, which is matter teleportation. Grace cannot teleport herself, but she can move things around when she focuses on them. There's huge limits on this:

smaller items are easier than larger, lighter is easier than heavier.

she doesn't have to see the object to move it but she does need to know about it pretty thoroughly and have a strong idea of its shape and the space its taking up.

example: if you set a closed, empty box in front of grace and told her there's a snowglobe inside, she could try to retrieve it, but it won't work (obvsly, it's empty) and she won't know why and might keep trying to 'grab' the object.

this would make her and Ethan extremely potent, as he can get eyes on something and transmit the information Grace needs to her, and she can grab the object.

because of how her power works, Grace has fun skills about guessing the weight of things. toss her an object and she can probably tell you pretty accurately how heavy it is. this isn't a mutation; she is just hyperfocused on that sort of info because it assists her power.

ANYWAY I THINK THAT'S ALL

#Anonymous #mission impossible #benthan #my fic #(kinda not really)#i think grace's power is really fun tbh

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akulride · 2 years ago

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SUV (Sports Utility Vehicle) Mild Hybrid (Electric + Petrol) 11.04 km/l 7 Airbags (Driver, Passenger, 2 Curtain, Driver Knee, Driver Side, Front Passenger Side) 2.0L Drive-E Turbocharged Crystal white, Bright dusk (Metallic), Platinum grey (Metallic), Denim blue (Metallic), Onyx black (Metallic) 5 Star (Euro NCAP)

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usafphantom2 · 8 months ago

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SR-71 #974 sleeps below the fish’s in the deepest part of the ocean the Mariana Trench there will not be any communist spying in that area.

Since the end of the Cold War, more information has come to light, with many official documents declassified. My friend Paul Crickmore sent me the following email last year with some interesting information.

I just read the piece you wrote about the loss of #974 a couple of days ago and thought you’d like a ‘sneaky-peek’ at part of the piece that’ll appear in the new book covering the subject…

“Side‑scanning sonar imaging of the crash site took place on 29 and 30 April, and it was not long before the debris field of ’974 was located. The 280ft‑long salvage vessel USS Beaufort was dispatched to lift the wreckage with its 10‑ and 15‑ton cranes, fitted on the bow and stern, respectively, and to find the sensors and defensive systems (Coincidently, the ship was built by Brooke Marine, in the author’s home town of Lowestoft, Suffolk).

Due to the proximity of the communist New People’s Army, a number of Navy SEALs were on board to provide protection to the divers and crew.

One morning during the search, an order for General Quarters was sounded at 0400 hours. Crew members rushed to their action stations in readiness for an immediate confrontation. They saw a large number of small vessels (which had been detected on the Beaufort’s radar) making for the ship.

Tension mounted until it was discovered that the would‑be attackers were fishing boats that had come towards the bright lights of the naval vessel because a very large shoal of fish had congregated around it. 🐠

When ’974 impacted the water inverted both engines, the main undercarriage and the aircraft’s sensors smashed through its upper surfaces.

They were scattered on the ocean floor at varying distances away from the main wreckage field. On the evening of 1 May, wire hawsers were attached to one of the J58 engines. The late evening movements dislodged the TEB tank and caused a small leak, which released tiny amounts of the chemical throughout the night.

TEB CAUSED GREEN PUFFS

As the volatile chemical bubbled to the surface, it mixed with ambient air and exploded in small green puffs. The ‘magic’ of the ‘Yankee’ engineers caused quite a stir among the native fishermen who saw the eerie ‘TEB‑bubble show’. The next day both engines were lifted and brought aboard the Beaufort’s fantail, and two days later, many of the sensors were also recovered. When the ship’s crew attempted to lift the main section of the aircraft, the crane operator found that the large delta‑shaped wing planform greatly exceeded the lifting capacity of his crane, and the wreckage refused to budge an inch. A yard derrick was sent from Subic Bay, and the forward fuselage section was recovered on 7 May, while the main structure was lifted aboard the Beaufort’s fantail the following day. The black wreckage was a sad end for a once‑proud airplane, despite Dan’s skillful ( Dan House, the Pilot) and valiant efforts to save it.”

This post is by Linda Sheffield

With Paul Crickmore

@Habubrats71 via X

#sr 71 #sr71 #sr 71 blackbird #aircraft #usaf #lockheed aviation #skunkworks #aviation #mach3+#habu #reconnaissance #cold war aircraft

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seniorpollinationtechnician · 1 year ago

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The team's spacecraft descended through the thick, swirling mist that enveloped the planet. As they broke through the clouds, the team could see the surface below—an expanse of rugged terrain marked by jagged peaks and uneven plains. The sky above them was perpetually bathed in ribbons of vibrant colors that danced across the horizon, illuminating the mist in hues of green, blue, and purple. The landing was smooth, with the spacecraft's landing gear absorbing the impact as it touched down on a relatively flat area between two rocky outcrops. The ship's engines powered down, leaving only the hum of onboard systems and the distant, ambient sounds of the planet. As they emerged from the spacecraft, the constant aurora above provided a surreal, ambient light that guided their way. The ground beneath their feet was rough and uneven, forcing them to move carefully as they began their exploration. Zerath led the way, his helmet's sensors scanning the environment and feeding data back to his display. Velana, Zyri, and Jorlan moved methodically, occasionally stopping to collect samples of the glowing flora or to take atmospheric readings. As they moved deeper into the mist-covered terrain, Zerath's sensor beeped, drawing his attention to an unexpected reading. He stopped abruptly, raising a hand to signal the others. The team halted, turning to face him. Zerath examined the readings on his tactical pad, his brow furrowing in concentration. "There's something fifty meters to the north," he continued. "It's large." Jorlan immediately adjusted his own sensors to focus on the direction indicated. "It's...moving. I don't think--," A sudden, intense vibration resonated around them, causing a few loose rocks nestled within the wall to fall and shatter around them. A shadow fell over them, cast by a massive, descending figure. They looked up just in time to see a majestic yet terrifying creature descending from the heavens. It had the body of a dragon, covered in shimmering, iridescent feathers that glowed with a deep purple hue. Its wings were enormous, each feather catching the light of the aurora above, creating a dazzling display of colors. Long, curved horns extended from its head, adding to its intimidating appearance. The creature let out a deafening roar, a sound that reverberated through the mist and echoed off the rocky cliffs before it lunged towards the team with astonishing speed. "Run!" Zerath shouted as he raised his weapon and began firing shots at the creature, aiming for its wings. The energy bolts struck the creature, but instead of wounding it, they only seemed to infuriate it. The creature pushed forward and swiped at the eldest Sixonian with one of its clawed forelimbs. The swipe nearly tore Zerath's arm from his body, forcing him to stagger back. His suit's artificial intelligence immediately began warning him of significant blood loss, but the seasoned lieutenant gritted his teeth and kept firing, trying to buy time for the others. "Fall back to the ship!" Zerath commanded, his voice steady despite the pain. The others fired a few meager shots from their pistols before turning and sprinting back towards their spacecraft, the creature's roars echoing behind them. Velana and Zyri ran side by side, their breaths coming in sharp gasps as they navigated the treacherous terrain. Jorlan was close behind, his mind racing with thoughts of what the creature could be and how they might defend against it. The creature roared again, its wings beating furiously as it gave chase. As they reached the ship, the airlock doors hissed open, and they rushed inside, the safety of the spacecraft mere steps away. Zerath was the last to enter, clutching his injured arm but still ready to defend his team. Inside the ship, the doors sealed shut and the team took a moment to catch their breath. It was then that they realized something was horribly wrong. Jorlan wasn't there.

#the ■■■■■■ legacy #ts4 #the sims 4 #the sims #ts4 legacy #this has to be my favorite photo set to date

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purplesaline · 8 months ago

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To anyone wanting to photograph northern lights, or even just stars, the trick is to use a higher ISO setting.

Even folks using their phones to take photos can do this if they have a camera app that allows them to customize settings! The Samsung phones come standard with the Pro options but if your camera doesn't you can always download an app that has the Pro options.

The ISO is basically how sensitive to light the sensor in the camera is. The higher the setting, the more sensitive the sensor. The issue you'll run into is that you'll start seeing digital noise after a certain point, but that's okay! There are post-processing functions that can help fix that. It's harder to use post-processing to make the Aurora brighter and more vivid.

So crank that ISO! The standard value is 100, try it at 1200 to start with and keep going higher until you find that sweet spot.

It's best to do this in an area that's as dark as possible because it will amplify all the ambient light in the area as well.

A slower shutter speed doesn't work as well for northern lights because they actually move quite a bit and you'll just wind up with a colour painted sky rather than the distinct Aurora shapes.

Happy snapping!

#photography tips #night photography #northern lights #aurora photography

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mossy-covered-bones · 1 year ago

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Hey, yall! I participated in @ecto-implosion this year, and I was paired with @avensartt -- here is the fantastic art she made that inspired this fic!

Puppeteer, Chapter 1

ao3 link

warnings: just a panic attack for the first chapter

Maddie flicked the Ectoradiation Radar on, watching the sensor boot up. The screen glowed a light green, harsh against the black grid. The brightest section of light centered on a point just left of center--that would be the ambient ectoplasm from the portal registering. A yellow spot flickered in the portal's place, as some of the fluctuations pinged significantly above average.

"Honey, do you want to head out for a patrol soon? We could use a test run on the Ectoradiation Radar," Maddie called to the other side of the lab, where Jack was maintenencing some of their weapons. "I want to make sure it's calibrated correctly, away from the portal interference."

Jack started reassembling the weapon he was working on, slamming the pieces back into place.

"Careful, Jack!"

"I am!" he called back, snapping the barrel back into place. He grabbed one of the ectocharge magazines and slotted it into the weapon. "C'mon, let's hunt some spooks!"

Maddie couldn't help but grin, clipping the Radar to her belt and starting to gather her usual weapons from the armory wall. "Don't forget to bring some extra magazines, dear."

The baseline scale on the side of the Ectoradiation Radar inched down the further they got from the lab, the ambient ectoplasm dropping fairly quickly once they were away from the portal. The seatbelt dug into the shoulder of Maddie's jumpsuit as Jack took a turn too fast.

"You added a range modifier to this, right, dear?"

Jack shot her a grin that took his eyes off the road long enough for him to veer into the curb. "Of course, Mads! Slider on the right." He yanked the wheel to the left, overcorrecting a bit and making the GAV wobble.

She felt along the side for the slider, watching the grid grow and shrink as she fiddled with it. "Okay, the readings are following with the scale change... take a right here, there's an area with a higher ectoradiation level I want to investigate."

The GAV jolted, crossing one too many lanes of traffic to turn at the light. A car horn was just audible over the squealing of tires.

"This looks like the way to the high school," Jack commented.

Maddie glanced up from the Radar screen to scan the buildings around them. "I think that's where the higher readings are centered on--the scale looks right. I didn't think it was that large of a difference, though."

"We should get some updated readings."

"That could be useful." She glanced over her shoulder at the back of the GAV, past the back seat to where they kept the equipment. "Do we still have the other instruments? I want to get a cross reference to make sure the sensitivity's right on the Ectoradiation Radar"

"Pretty sure!" Jack took another sharp corner, pealing into the virtually empty parking lot and slamming on the breaks. He barely paused to yank the gearshift to park before he threw himself out the driver's door. "C'mon, let's check it out!"

Maddie scrambled to unbuckle her seatbelt and follow him, barely fighting back a grin from the excitement.

She ducked under Jack's arm to get to the GAV's stash, fishing out the computer display for the Signature Sensor from one of the miscellaneous bins, plugging it into the readings equipment while Jack booted it up.

Maddie handed the display over and twisted the settings dial on the Ectoradiation Radar, turning it from 'area' to 'local'. The grid disappeared in favor of a list of numbers, a flood of scales and measurements that brought a smile to Maddie's face. "Okay, what are you getting for ambient?"

"Just under one rem per hour. Yours?"

"Zero point nine four, and the estimated digit keeps varying between... two and five. Most of that is tied to a signature--a lot of that is signature. Are you picking anything up?"

Jack frowned, sweeping the Sensor around a bit more. His eyes stayed trained on the display, searching for change. "Nope, no spooks."

"Right, it must have been recent, then." Maddie hummed. "There have been a lot of sightings here, it could have raised the baseline. Should check the logs when we get back..."

"Is it that much higher?" Jack leaned over her shoulder to glance at the Ectoradiation Radar's screen. "I don't think we measured type of ecto when we found Amity Park's standard, should we--"

They both froze as the Signature Sensor's display computer beeped, eyes flicking to the screen.

Jack let out a bark of laughter. "It's Phantom! C'mon Mads, let's go!"

Jack was going at least double the local speed limit to keep their quarry in range, little flickers of a tail in the sky or readings on the Signature Sensor's display keeping them on path.

"It's switching course--left, turn left!" Maddie shouted, leaning to try and follow Phantom's path. She braced herself before Jack threw the GAV to the side. It shuddered as the wheels slammed back into the asphalt, and they raced down the road.

"Looks like it's leading up towards the woods, Mads!"

They managed to keep on its tail up until town limits and the road veered away from the ghost's path. They'd have to go on foot to follow, with how dense the trees grew---no luck getting the GAV through there.

They were out the second Jack parked, grabbing the most essential equipment before striking out.

It was slow going, trying to trek through the underbrush after Phantom's ectosignature. It didn't take long for Phantom's ectosignature to travel out of range, leaving them to follow the general direction the ghost had been taking and hope they'd stumble on the path again.

It was dim, the canopy blocking most of the evening light. Jack had the Signature Sensor at the ready, and Maddie kept the Ectoradiation Radar in hand just in case. They kept a brisk pace, doing their best to keep their direction consistent.

They were maybe thirty minutes in before Maddie spotted a change on her screen, a little sliver of brighter green at the top of her screen. "Look, Jack, there's an area up ahead with more ectoradiation--we found something."

"Let's go check it out," Jack cheered, diving back into the underbrush. Maddie followed his wake, letting him push aside bushes and trample the plants so she could keep an eye on the screen, watch that sliver of green get wider, grow brighter. The area baseline creeped up with every step, well past the readings they got around Casper High. If this was some sort of natural phenomenon, it was groundbreaking. Possibilities starting flipping through Maddie's mind. A large amount of microportals, maybe? Or an overlap of several haunts all coalescing into a cesspit of residual ectosignatures? Maybe even a place for assembling shades or blob ghosts, or some sort of old graveyard.

"Mads, I'm getting a reading again. It's nearby."

They shared a look. This could be their chance.

Maddie clipped the Ectoradiation Radar to her tool belt and grabbed her recorder, the gentle click of it starting almost deafening in the still, darkening woods.

"Recording 026B-03," Maddie whispered, reading off the label on the tape. "Research topic, where Phantom goes after a sighting. We have been following it through the forest for..." She glanced at her watch. "...seventy-four minutes. It seems that--"

"Mads!" Jack hissed, barely quieting his voice. "The ectosignature's getting stronger--it's close."

Right, game time.

"Get ready." Maddie slipped the still-running recorder back into her belt, bringing a weapon to the ready. Jack followed suit, and they creeped forward,

"There." Jack took a step forward, pushing some of the underbrush aside to get a better look. The glow was just barely visible under the sunlight filtering through the canopy, discoloring the foliage around it more than illuminating anything. It was fuzzy around the edges, insubstantial, like static forced into solidity. All black and white and bright vivid green that barely looked substantial. A messy, smoky impression of hair, a long, whispy tail, glowing white claws hooked under the arms of an unconsious teen.

Phantom didn't seem to register their presence, too busy drifting through the underbrush, clutching at the boy he was carrying around. The grip looked secure, possessive, with how deep its claws were latched into his hoodie. The taste of static sat heavy on her tongue.

Jack's face set with resolve, and he aimed the Fenton Bazooka right at it. "Put him down, ghost."

Phantom's head snapped around to stare at them, neck twisting just too far to be natural. The only features on its face were the two green specks of light where eyes should have been. It pulled the teenager a little closer, claws catching on the seams on the shoulders of his hoodie, leaving little tears Maddie could just barely make out in the dying light.

Maddie's grip tightened on her own weapon, and she moved a few steps to the left, just far enough that Phantom had to swivel his head to look between the two of them. "We're not going to let you hurt an innocent child."

The ghost's face split open in mockery of a mouth, jagged with the impression of teeth, and let out a sound like nails against a chalkboard that made their audio filters hiss. It started to back up, grip not faltering.

Maddie took a step forward, heard Jack follow suit. "We're not asking again, spook. Let him go." Her eyes flicked down to the unconscious teenager. The hoodie looked familiar.

The barrel of her ectogun drifted as she tried to make out his face in the poor lighting. Was that... "Danny?"

Phantom let out another squawk of grating static and Maddie couldn't help but flinch that time, weapon pulling back up to aim directly at its chest, but the space where the ghost--the ghost holding her son--had been was empty, the faint, sickly green light gone. Her eye's snapped to Jack, fumbling for the Sensor's display.

She held her breath for a beat while he checked, but Jack just shook his head.

Phantom was gone.

Shit. Fuck.

He could hear himself trying to breath, like radio interference echoing through the empty observatory. He needed to switch back, before his--his parents managed to catch up, or track him down like they had in the woods. They had been right there, in the middle of--

The world was getting fuzzy, turning to static around him. Danny could barely register his hoodie tearing even further as his claws dug into it, still unable to let go of his body. He couldn't still be ghost when--if his parents got here, holding his dead fucking body, but he could hardly think through the sheer panic of being so, so very close to his parents finding out.

He squeezed his eyes shut and tried to force himself back to human, but he couldn't get the change to take through his core screaming at him to hide, that he was in danger.

Shit, what was he supposed to do if they stayed there and kept looking? They couldfind the graves, find--

Danny let out a whine, high and shrill, and pulled his body closer, burying his face in his hair. He still needed to bury himself, he couldn't just... not go back there, he...

He needed to find Sam and Tucker, or Jazz, just somebody. He scrambled for his body, grabbing his phone from the pocket of his jeans. His claws scrabbled against the screen, password failing a few times before he managed to hit the right buttons and unlock. The message to the group chat was riddled with so many typos it was almost unreadable, but his phone started to ring just a few beats later.

Tucker's voice came through the speaker the second he hit answer. "Hey, Danny, what happened?"

Danny let out another wheeze of static, curling closer to his body.

"You're still in ghost form? Um. Nothing for no, sound for yes, alright?"

He tried to parrot the words back, but trying to force out the sounds just jumbled them together into nonsense. Sound. Yes. Good enough.

"Alright--are you safe?"

It was harder to swallow back the noises than it was to speak.

"Can you get home?"

He bit down on his nails to keep the static in.

"Could you get to my or Sam's house?"

Yes, yes--Danny let the burst of noise force itself out from behind his teeth.

"Go to whichever is closer, I'll let Sam know--want me to stay on the call?"

The staticy whine echoed through the observatory, and Danny tugged his body further into his chest.

"Okay, I can do that."

#danny phantom #ectoimplosion

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