#guest reactors

[pushing500]

With the unnatural darkness dealt with, Cora can get back to work in our hydroponics room looking after the plants that Tupelo missed while she was busy stabilising Ivy.

We're growing lots of fun things, including chickpeas and capsicum, with some fibrecorn in case I forget to chop trees for our wood-fueled generators (which I often do).

Since she's not awakened yet, Cora doesn't do anything apart from work. Her only breaks are for recovering memory space in her standing spot, and I hope she gets some kind of enjoyment from her "naps". I wonder what androids might dream about? Probably just machinery or electricity or something.

no this wasn't just an excuse to show off the androids' bedroom shut up

Cora is also very confused about why people seem so infatuated by the miniature human that spends most of the time asleep in Jut and Beau's room. It doesn't even do anything, what's so special about it??

I do think it's very sweet that Jut adores his daughter so much. Sometimes it looks like he's racing to get to her before Beau does so he can hug her and make her giggle. I bet he's trying to teach her to say "papa" before she says "mama" so he can tease Beau about it.

Speaking of Jut, he's apparently quite touchy about his construction skills. I was a little stressed that the fight between our two unbelievably skilled melee colonists would end super badly, but it didn't. I couldn't even tell who won, though I'm going to hazard a guess that it was Jut. He thought the fight was cathartic, but it just made Alistair angry.

It's alright, though. After Alistair patched himself up he stomped away to sulk in Ivy's room with her smut collection. I think he likes those books more than she does! I suppose it's his only way to really learn much about the, ah, intricacies of 'anatomy'. Mechi and Kwahu are definitely not going into detail about that sort of thing with him, I'm sure.

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[ninsiana0]

[nintendotaku96]

Home Sweet Spaceship

[cybergoth1]

﹟— ❛❛cause when you know you know. part 1.

☆﹟— paring: fem!reader x dick grayson.

☆﹟— summary: you've always had dick grayson's heart in your hands, since you were just sixteen.

☆﹟— warnings/tags: dick grayson x fem!reader. reader is an awkward dork. fluffy. dick is yearning. spiderwoman!reader. best friends to lovers (?). these two mfs are the same person in different fonts. reader is a mix of tom holland’s spiderman and the comics. rip uncle ben. the amazing divider was made by @bernardsbendystraws, thank you!. some spiderman: homecoming lore. ☆﹟— MASTERLIST. NEXT.

WAYNE GALAS WERE ALWAYS THE SAME — stiff, over decorated affairs where assholes shook hands and smiled fake smiles over champagne. At sixteen, Dick Grayson knew the routine like the back of his hand. He also knew how to blend into the background when he wasn’t in the mood to charm the crowds. It was from that vantage point, leaning casually against a marble pillar, that he first noticed you.

You stood a few steps behind Tony Stark, looking wildly out of place among Gotham’s elite. Wrapped in a simple blue dress that couldn’t quite decide if it wanted to be fancy or modest, you shifted your weight awkwardly from foot to foot, clutching a small purse like it might save you from drowning in a sea of tuxedos and designer gowns.

Dick’s lips quirked into a small smile. Adorable.

Tony Stark, of course, was in full showman mode, gesturing animatedly as he spoke with Bruce Wayne. The two billionaires were discussing the latest partnership between Stark Industries and Wayne Enterprises — a massive clean energy project meant to transform both Gotham and New York. The media was already drooling over it.

"…game-changer for the East Coast, Bruce," Tony was saying, his voice easily cutting over the soft hum of the orchestra. "Your tech, my tech — it’s like peanut butter and genius. Together, unstoppable."

Bruce nodded, ever the composed businessman. "It sounds promising. If we can get the logistics right."

"And we will," Tony said with his usual effortless confidence. Then, spotting Dick nearby — or maybe just looking for an excuse to brag — he turned slightly and gestured toward you.

"And speaking of genius," he said, "I’d like you to meet my brilliant intern. Absolute prodigy. I’m basically babysitting her before someone smarter steals her."

You blinked, startled by the sudden attention, and gave Bruce a stiff little wave, your fingers curling awkwardly halfway through. Dick had to bite the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing.

Bruce, gentleman as ever, extended his hand. "It’s a pleasure to meet you."

You hurried forward, shaking his hand a little too quickly. "Um — thank you, Mr. Wayne. It’s, uh, an honor to be here."

Tony clapped a hand on your shoulder, nearly knocking you off balance. "Kid’s working on tech that’ll make arc reactors look like antique junk. Don’t let the nerves fool you — she’s the real deal."

Bruce raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "Is that so? I’d love to hear more about your work sometime."

You flushed bright red, mumbling something about polymer synthesis and energy conductivity — something brilliant that Dick couldn’t entirely follow, but he caught enough to be impressed. And amused. You were so obviously genuine — completely different from the polished, self-important guests around you.

Bruce must’ve picked up on your nerves too. With a small, reassuring smile, he glanced to the side.

"Allow me to introduce my son," he said, motioning to Dick. "Dick Grayson."

At the mention of his name, Dick pushed off the pillar and approached with an easy, charming smile — the kind that made Gotham’s elite swoon. But the second your eyes met, you visibly froze like you weren’t sure whether to shake his hand, run away, or throw up.

"H-hi," you said, voice quick, bright — and unmistakably thick with a Queens accent. "It’s, uh, real nice to meetcha."

Dick grinned wider, immediately charmed. "Pleasure’s mine," he said, reaching out.

You hesitated for a beat, then took his hand. Your grip was surprisingly firm, even if your face was screaming pure panic.

Tony almost chuckled. "She’s from Queens," he explained. "You know — where people actually say what they mean and don’t take an hour to do it."

You gave an embarrassed little shrug. You looked like you want to throw up.

That earned a real laugh from Dick, warm and easy. You smiled too — a real smile this time, the kind that crinkled your eyes and hit him somewhere he hadn’t expected. Bruce’s phone buzzed discreetly in his pocket. He glanced at the screen, then gave a small, apologetic nod. "If you’ll excuse me," he said. "Duty calls."

He slipped away, leaving you, Tony, and Dick standing awkwardly together by the marble column.

Tony, never missing a beat, gave Dick a mock-serious look. "Why don’t you two go mingle? God knows she needs more friends."

You groaned under your breath. "Oh my god, Mr. Stark, please don’t."

Dick just laughed again. He fell easily into step beside you as Tony wandered off to schmooze with some politicians. You walked stiffly at first, hyperaware of every move you made in the ridiculously fancy heels Stark had bullied you into wearing.

"So," Dick said, shooting you a grin as he offered you a glass of sparkling water from a passing tray, "Queens, huh? That explains the accent."

You accepted the drink with a sheepish smile. "Yeah. Born and raised. It’s pretty different from all this… you know, money and marble columns."

Dick laughed. "Trust me, you’re not missing much. All it means is you get invited to boring parties like this one."

You laughed too — a real, snorting laugh that made a couple of nearby socialites glance over disapprovingly. You barely noticed.

"So, what’s it like working for Iron man?" Dick asked, tilting his head in that way that made his hair fall a little into his eyes. He probably practiced looking that effortlessly cool in the mirror.

You shrugged, taking a sip of your drink. "Kinda like babysitting a genius toddler with unlimited money and no fear of death."

Dick barked a short laugh. "Sounds about right."

You hesitated, then added, "But seriously? He’s been good to me. Not a lotta people would take a chance on some random kid from Queens."

Dick raised an eyebrow, interested. "Random? C’mon, Stark made it sound like you were about to solve the energy crisis or something."

You snorted again, feeling a little more at ease. "I mean, maybe. Eventually. If I don’t blow up a lab first."

He grinned at that, the easy kind of grin that made you feel like you could tell him anything. So, without really thinking, you shrugged and said, "Plus, I kinda get it. I grew up pretty rough, y’know? Not a lotta money. Lost my folks when I was little."

You said it so casually — like you were talking about the weather — that it took a second for Dick to process.

His smile softened, the cocky edge fading just a little. "Yeah?" he said, voice a little lower now, a little more real. "Me too."

You blinked, surprised. "Wait, really?"

He nodded, tapping two fingers against his chest lightly. "Orphan club. Lifetime membership."

You gave him a crooked smile. "Guess that makes us, like, trauma buddies or something."

Dick chuckled, but there was a warmth in his eyes now that hadn’t been there before. "Guess so. But hey," he added, nudging your shoulder lightly, "at least you’re smart enough to build your way outta Queens."

You shrugged again, feeling your face heat. "Yeah, well. You’re the one who looks like he belongs in a magazine."

Dick gave you a mock-offended gasp. "Are you saying I’m just a pretty face?"

You bit your lip, trying not to laugh. "I’m just sayin’, you definitely got the rich kid smile down."

He laughed, full and bright, and for a second it felt like the two of you were the only ones in the whole stupid, glittering ballroom.

SIX MONTHS PASSED WITHOUT you or him even noticing. Long-distance friendships were supposed to fade, or at least get awkward. Yours didn’t. Despite being hundreds of miles apart — you in New York, Dick in Gotham — you and him texted, called, and memed at each other like your lives depended on it. Some nights you stayed up until 3 AM talking about everything and nothing at the same time. School drama. Terrible cafeteria food. The best ways to take down a guy twice your size when you were stuck in a tight suit.

It didn’t take long before the truth slipped out.

You were Spiderwoman. He was Robin.

The discovery was a complete accident — a FaceTime call cut short when you had to swing off mid-conversation to stop a robbery, your phone falling out of your pocket mid-swing, the screen still open as Dick watched wide-eyed.

You expected him to freak out.

Instead, he just texted:

"dude... that's so sick. also ur form was trash lol. we’re training next time ur in gotham."

When Homecoming season rolled around, you weren’t even planning on going. Crowded dances weren’t really your thing. But then Tony Stark, with his usual flair for the dramatic, said something like, “Kid, you gotta have at least one normal high school experience before you get arrested by the feds or something,” and signed you up himself.

The only problem?

You didn’t have a date.

Which is why, two weeks later, you stood frozen on the sidewalk outside Midtown Tech, wearing a dress that you had panic-ordered online, while Dick freaking Grayson leaned casually against a rented black car looking like he’d just stepped out of a fashion magazine.

Sleek suit. Easy smile. Blue eyes that sparkled when they landed on you.

You gawked. He whistled low under his breath.

"You clean up nice, Queens," he said, offering you his arm.

You shoved his shoulder lightly, face burning. "You’re literally Bruce Wayne’s kid. You clean up by existing."

Still, you took his arm.

Inside the gym — decorated with cheap streamers and a truly tragic DJ — heads turned immediately. Whispers broke out like wildfire.

"Wait… is that Bruce Wayne’s son?"

"He’s so hot in person. I just saw an article about The Flying Graysons-"

"Eww, isn’t that weird ass chick from the Decathlon Team?"

Enhanced earring. Sometimes you hate that. You spotted Ned across the room near the snack table, eyes wide as saucers. He threw you the most aggressive thumbs-up you had ever seen.

You nearly burst out laughing.

Dick, of course, noticed everything — the stares, the whispers — and just tightened his hold on your arm, leaning down to murmur in your ear: "They’re just jealous they didn’t think of asking you first."

You rolled your eyes, grinning. "Shut up, Gotham."

"You love me," he teased, winking.

You tried to play it cool.

Tried to act like your heart wasn’t punching itself in the face.

Instead, you just said, "Whatever, rich boy. Let’s dance before I regret this."

And somehow, with Dick’s hand wrapped around yours and the gym lights flickering overhead, you realized you were having the best night of your life — cheap decorations, judgmental classmates, bad punch and all. No crimes, no tight suits, just the arms of your best friend around you.

SOME YEARS LATER...

NEW YORK CITY SMELLED LIKE hot dog stands, wet pavement, and cheap coffee. It was comforting, in a weird way — grounding, like an old song you never forgot the words to. It smelled like home.

You had just finished your doctorate at Empire State University — biophysics, the degree that had nearly broken you with sleepless nights and endless labs. Four years of undergrad, another six buried under papers and research grants, all while swinging through the city rooftops under a different name.

You were proud, sure. But pride didn’t pay rent, which meant you were still picking up gigs at the Daily Bugle, still hustling freelance science writing jobs, still showing up at FEAST with boxes of canned goods, just trying to help where you could.

You huffed, adjusting the box in your arms as you kicked open the back door. Aunt May had been working at FEAST full-time now ever since she retired, and somehow, you always found yourself drawn back here too. Helping people — it was kind of your thing. Always had been.

What you didn’t expect was to walk into the kitchen and see him—

Leaning casually against the counter like he owned the place, grinning like he hadn’t just crossed two state lines without so much as a warning.

"Hey, trouble."

You blinked, nearly dropping the box.

"Dick?!"

He flashed that damn movie-star smile at you — the one that should’ve come with a warning label. "Miss me?"

"What the hell are you doing here?" you cried, laughing as you dropped the box on the table and practically launched yourself at him.

Dick caught you without hesitation, his arms wrapping around you in a warm, easy hug. You hadn’t realized how much you needed it until right now. Twelve years. Twelve years of growing up side-by-side, saving cities, teasing each other over coms, late-night phone calls just to vent about patrol. And yet somehow, seeing him in person after a few months apart hit you harder than you expected.

You pulled back. "You idiot! You’re supposed to call before you show up in my city."

"What, and ruin the surprise?" he teased, ruffling your hair — which earned him a murderous glare from you. "Besides, I figured Aunt May could use some extra hands around here."

May appeared in the doorway at that exact moment, wiping her hands on her apron. Her face lit up when she saw Dick. "Richard, honey! It’s so good to see you!"

"Richard," you snickered under your breath, watching Dick grimace in horror as May pulled him into a hug.

"She’s the only one allowed to call me that," he grumbled as he shot you a look over May’s shoulder.

You grinned. God, you’d missed him.

There was a way Dick fit into your life that no one else could replicate — like he was the missing piece to a puzzle you hadn’t even realized was incomplete. Maybe it was the history. Maybe it was the fact that you understood each other in ways that no one else ever could — the grief, the pressure, the guilt that came from trying to save people and knowing it would never be enough.

Maybe it was just him.

Because somewhere along the line, Dick Grayson had gone from Gotham’s golden boy to Nightwing — the heart of Blüdhaven, the hero everyone loved. He wasn’t just a sidekick anymore. He was the blueprint.

Kids in Blüdhaven wore Nightwing shirts and told stories about how he’d saved their dad or helped their aunt or dropped off Christmas gifts at the shelters. He was the hero people wanted to be — not just because he was good with his fists, but because he never stopped believing the world could be better.

You were proud of him in a way you couldn’t even put into words.

And looking at him now — a little older, a little more worn around the edges, but still him — you realized how much he still made you feel like you weren’t alone in any of it. He was your best friend and your family.

You saw May kissing his left cheek before going back to the main room, it was time to serve lunch.

"So," he began, leaning against the counter with that casual drawl he used when he was trying way too hard to sound chill, "how’s your thing with MJ going?"

His tone was careful — soft — like he knew exactly how much of a train wreck your love life had been lately. How you always ended up back at square one: alone.

You shrugged, shooting him a half-hearted smile.

"Eh. How’s your thing with Babs going?"

You tossed the question back at him without missing a beat, raising your brows pointedly.

Dick mirrored your shrug, lips twitching.

"Eh."

There was a brief pause — the kind only two people who knew each other too well could slip into without it feeling awkward — and then you smirked.

"Well, there’s your problem. You’re into gingers."

He snorted. "You’re into gingers."

You pointed at him like you just cracked the code of the universe.

"Exactly. That’s why we both have commitment issues. Everyone knows gingers are secretly evil."

Dick barked a laugh, shaking his head.

"Evil and dangerously attractive. It’s a lose-lose."

"Honestly," you sighed dramatically, "it’s not our fault we keep getting attached to soulless, beautiful monsters."

He grinned wide, that stupidly charming Nightwing grin.

"Soulless monsters — sounds like half the people we fight too."

"At least fighting bad guys doesn’t leave me crying into a tub of ice cream at two a.m."

Dick’s eyes twinkled with mischief.

"I guess you forgot your little friend Felicia Hardy in this sentence."

You gasped, smacking his arm — not hard enough to hurt, but enough to make your point.

"That was one time and she tricked me!"

"Uh-huh," Dick said, smirking as he rubbed his arm dramatically. "And then she ghosted you and stole your watch. And your wallet".

You groaned.

"I told you that in confidence, you traitor."

He grinned even wider, clearly enjoying himself.

"You’re lucky I’m your best friend and not, you know, selling these stories to the tabloids."

You gave him a half-hearted glare before letting out a snort.

"Yeah, because Nightwing Reveals Spiderwoman Got Played by Cat Thief would really earn you some credibility."

Dick shrugged, unbothered. "Might finally knock me off GQ’s ‘Sexiest Heroes Alive’ list. Honestly, it’s getting exhausting."

You laughed, the sound bursting out of you before you could stop it. God, you missed this. The easy rhythm of you and Dick — how he could drag you out of any dark place with just a few dumb jokes and a mischievous glint in his eye.

"But come on now, sexiest hero alive," you teased, nudging him lightly with your elbow. "Why are you truly in New York?"

Your face ached from how much you’d been smiling. It was almost enough to make you forget the three broken ribs healing under your shirt and the nasty wound stitched up on your left thigh. Almost.

Dick just shrugged, the corner of his mouth tugging up into a half-smile.

"Nothing at all," he said lightly. "Just missed you."

You squinted at him, unconvinced.

"Missed me enough to leave your city to crumble without Nightwing?"

"Don’t be dramatic," he said, rolling his eyes fondly. "Tim’s covering me this weekend. Blüdhaven’s in good hands."

You studied him again — really studied him — noticing how his bright blue eyes suddenly dipped away from yours, shyness creeping into his expression. Dick sighed, shoving his hands deep into the pockets of his jeans, like he was bracing himself.

"It’s May fourth," he said quietly.

You froze for a beat. Of course.

You didn’t need him to say anything else. You knew exactly what that date meant.

Uncle Ben’s death anniversary.

You were so burried into your Spiderwoman's stuff last night that you forgot all about Ben, you didn't even noticed how sad May was this morning. A lump formed in your throat. The pain was still there, buried deep. It always was. Even with all the miles between you and that night, the guilt, the regret — it never quite left. You thought you had it under control, thought you had it buried in the same corner where you stashed all your unresolved issues. But not today. Not with Dick here, looking at you like that.

You were about to say something, anything, to push the conversation somewhere else. But Dick stepped closer, the usual teasing smirk gone. His gaze softened, his voice quiet, steady.

"You still blame yourself, don’t you?"

The question hit harder than you’d expected, like he’d plucked the thought right from your mind. You met his eyes for the first time since he’d dropped that bomb. The guilt, all of it, was there — clear and raw. You didn’t need to say a word.

He sighed, stepping closer, until his body was just a breath away from yours. His hand brushed against your arm, the touch warm, gentle.

"Hey," he murmured, his voice low and comforting. "You can’t save everyone. I’ve been doing this long enough to know that."

You almost laughed at how ridiculous it sounded coming from him. Dick Grayson — Nightwing, a hero, a Titan — was the one who saved people, who did the impossible. He was the one who made sure no one fell through the cracks. He was everybody's safety net.

"I’m not like you," you whispered. The words sounded bitter in your mouth. "I’m not like him. I could’ve done more, should’ve done more. I—"

"Stop," Dick interrupted, his voice firm but caring. "You did everything you could. But you can’t do it all, especially not alone."

You looked up at him, his blue eyes meeting yours, soft with understanding. There was no judgment in his gaze — only the kind of acceptance that made your chest tighten. He’d seen your worst moments. And somehow, even in those, he still cared.

He was always there, wasn’t he? Even when it felt like the whole world was crashing down around you, he was the constant you could rely on. He didn’t need to say a word — he just was.

"I’m sorry," you muttered, shaking your head. "I should’ve been better, Dick. He deserved better. He would be alive—"

Dick’s hand moved to your shoulder, his grip solid, like he was holding you together in a way no one else could.

"You don’t have to carry that on your own," he said quietly. "And you don’t have to keep punishing yourself, either. Ben wouldn’t want that."

You clenched your jaw, trying to swallow the lump in your throat. But the dam was breaking. Slowly, painfully, the tears you didn’t realize were there started to well up. And Dick — always, always there — pulled you into his arms without hesitation.

"Hey," he whispered into your hair, his voice soothing, "You’re not alone. I’m here, alright? And so is May. We’re all here."

You clung to him for a second longer than you probably should’ve, your hands gripping the back of his shirt like it was a lifeline. Maybe it was. You hadn’t realized how badly you needed this. You squeezed your eyes shut, pressing your forehead into his shoulder, trying to swallow the emotion threatening to spill over.

Eventually, you pulled back, just a little, blinking away the tears. Your chest felt lighter, like the weight of the years had shifted just a little.

"Thanks," you said, voice thick. "I really needed that."

Dick’s thumb brushed carefully along your jaw, grounding you. You stared up at him, the breath catching in your chest, and for a long moment, he just looked at you — like he was memorizing you, seeing every crack, every bruise, and not turning away.

Then, without a word, he leaned in and pressed a soft, steady kiss to your forehead. Just like many others he gave you in these past twelve years. He lingered there, letting the touch say all the things neither of you could voice out loud.

When he finally pulled back, he dropped another kiss, featherlight, to the tip of your nose — the smallest, softest thing — and it broke something inside you in the best way. It wasn’t romantic, not in the big, sweeping way movies liked to show. It was better. It was pure, steady, real. The kind of love that had nothing to prove and nowhere to go. It just was.

You closed your eyes for a second, breathing him in — the faint smell of his cologne, the leather of his jacket, the clean sweat of someone who lived moving, fighting, surviving. When you opened your eyes again, he was still there, hands steady, smile small and genuine.

"You’re such an ugly crier, Webs," Dick said, voice full of teasing warmth as he wiped your cheeks with his thumbs. "Is that snot? Seriously?"

You let out a wet, broken laugh. "Fuck off — my uncle died, you asshole."

"I know, I know," he said, his grin tugging at the corner of his mouth even as his eyes stayed soft, careful. He cupped your face between his hands like you were something fragile and precious, his thumbs brushing away the tears and — yeah, maybe a little snot too. "You’re allowed to cry. Even if you do it… extremely unattractively."

You hiccupped a miserable sound and buried your face in his shoulder. Dick just laughed under his breath and tucked you closer, like he could shield you from the whole damn world if you let him.

"You’re the worst," you muttered thickly into his neck.

For a minute, you just breathed together. No words. No expectations. Then you heard the familiar shuffle of footsteps and Aunt May’s voice coming from the kitchen doorway.

"Well, isn’t this the cutest thing I’ve seen all week."

You jerked upright, immediately wiping your face. Dick just threw an arm lazily around your shoulders, pulling you into his side like it was the most natural thing in the world.

"Hey, May," he said brightly, like you weren’t two seconds away from crumbling.

Aunt May just smiled knowingly, walking over to kiss your temple and then ruffle Dick’s hair, making him squawk in protest. "Always good to see you, honey. But next time, you know, call first".

"Yes, ma’am," he grumbled, fixing his hair like some offended cat.

"Come on, you two," she said, already turning back toward the kitchen. "There’s leftovers from dinner. You can eat and then help me serving lunch. We have new people here needing help and Miles is really anxious about meeting your friend".

Ah, Miles. He's a great kid and hero. Dick's probably gonna like him. Dick squeezed your shoulder gently. "Race you to the table, ugly crier."

You elbowed him hard in the ribs, but you were laughing. Really laughing. Later that day, standing in front of Uncle Ben’s grave, the city felt quieter and worst than usual. Maybe it was just the way your heart was beating — slow, heavy, a little cracked around the edges. You stared at the headstone until the words blurred, the lump in your throat too thick to swallow.

Without a word, Dick stepped closer and pulled you against his side, wrapping an arm around your shoulders. His fingers found yours easily, lacing them together like they belonged there, like they always had. He squeezed your hand and then, without any hesitation, he leaned down and pressed a kiss to your forehead.

It was so soft it made your eyes sting all over again.

You leaned into him, letting his strength anchor you, feeling his heartbeat steady against your side. The sun dipped lower, the air turning cooler, but neither of you moved. You could always hear his heartbeat, even when he wasn't in the same room as you. Nice part of having powers. You have the sound memorized in your head.

Dick didn’t rush you. He didn’t tell you it was time to go, or that you had to be strong, or that Ben was in a better place. He just stayed — solid and silent and sure — holding you. He spent the whole evening there with you, never once letting go of your hand. May was in front of you, mourning in her own way. In silence.

When the city lights finally started to blink on in the distance, you turned your face into his shoulder and whispered, voice cracking, "Thank you."

Dick just squeezed your hand tighter, pressing another kiss to your hairline.

"Always, Webs," he murmured against your hair. "Always." like they belonged there, like they always had.

©cybergoth1, 2025

[jpitha]

Painfully Bright

The humans tend to go… a little overboard when designing things, this is known, and the rest of the Coalition understands. Years of interaction and experience has taught most of the Coalition that sometimes… you just let them get it out of their system. 

This time, I wasn’t so sure though. 

I swear to the voice of my ancestors I don’t know why they insist that we… witness their next wild development. It’s like they have a burning desire to show the Coalition what they built. It’s like their latest toy doesn’t exist until they show it off. 

This time, we were all ferried into one of their smaller - though still gigantic by our standards - frigates and brought to - literally - the middle of interstellar space. By the fur of my children, I am not lying! When we Flipped, we came back into what I could only describe is an… arena, hundreds of kilometers across. They had built massive gantries and hung lights off of them, the shadows cast by the lights were talon sharp. I have no idea how they were able to build lights that bright. Honestly, I think that my administration would be more interested in those lights instead of… whatever is on the platform in the center. I’ll ask after the demonstration. 

With unaided visio, the platform was a simple black speck. Helpfully, the screens in the observation room were connected to telescopes, and a high resolution image was projected next to the real-time view. Additionally, our pads were tied into the camera feed so that we could all change what scopes we were watching, if we wanted to see a detail that the main camera wasn’t showing. It was all very professional and set up to make sure we could all see and observe. 

More Coalition members filed in after me, having spent more time at the refreshment tables than I. The humans did their best, and some members found their cuisine quite intriguing, but I for one could not stand it. Too loud, too flavorful, too… much like them. I had a water bulb, and got a good seat while everyone else stuffed their inputs. As they came in and found seats, I had noticed that some humans, and even a few other Coalition members walked quietly in behind the guests and took up positions around the room. They were all wearing a sharply tailored uniform, black, with a white undershirt peeking out behind an open lapel. The humans had a name for this outfit, I remember them saying it. Ugh, I can’t remember. 

A few more minutes were spent waiting, and then a human walked to the front of the room and addressed the gathering; “Friends, Sapients, thank you for attending our demonstration. We here at StrossCo are incredibly excited to demonstrate our new power reactor. We are convinced that this wholly new design which is smaller, more powerful, and yet has the same operating costs will enable everyone in the Coalition to more easily power their ships, stations, and anything else that requires power. I wish to apologize that the demonstration reactor is so far away, but unfortunately HIDA regulations-” I noticed his eyes flick over to one of the people stationed around the room, and then nearly as quickly back to the audience, “-require it. Rest assured, it is perfectly safe, and will pose no danger to anyone when in regular operation. Now, if you please-” He gestured dramatically, and with a clunk and a noise like something spinning down, the lights went out. The screens went dead, and even the ever-present thrum of the environmental systems ceased. I felt light in my seat, and noticed my water bulb drifting slowly. All the power was off.

There were mumbles and murmurs of conversation as realization set in, and then, almost as quickly as the power went off, it returned. First gravity, then environmental, then lights and finally cameras and screens. Everything was back on, and the human in front was grinning wickedly. “Now, everything here - this frigate, the lights in the arena, all beacons, sensors, sentries and ships - everything - is being powered by our new reactor.”

What was previously a murmur of conversation rose in intensity when realization set in. If they were not lying - and they had no reason to lie - their singular reactor was powering more than nearly a dozen Coalition reactors. The power output was positively titanic. I could see notes being quickly written, and some others were muttering things into comms and dicts. Everyone was interested in this. I looked at the large screen, and noticed that the magnified view was gone. We could only see the small speck of the platform. I attempted to call up the magnified view on my pad, and could not access it. I stood and ruffled my feathers. “Pardon me. I notice that the magnified view of the reactor has been turned off. May we please get a close up view of the reactor in action?”

The StrossCo rep looked at me, and then I saw his eyes flick back to one of the suited humans. I didn’t see their reaction, but I could tell the rep was disappointed. “Er, no, I’m sorry. It seems to be… technical difficulties. Our tech teams are working now to get everything back up as quickly as possible.”

That couldn’t be right. Something felt off. I made my way past other members taking notes and making calls, and walked up to the screen. I got as close as I could and tried to get a better view. “Is there a physical viewport here? As you are aware, Innari have excellent vision. I would like to look at the reactor with my own eyes.”

“Uh, I’m afraid that is quite impossible right now; as you are aware -er, Sapient, human frigates have very few physical windows as they are a deliberate hole in the hull and are a structural weakness and-” 

His rambling defence of not letting us see the reactor was cut off by the lights beginning to grow painfully bright. At the edge of my vision, I could see strobing. The environmental fans increased from a gentle movement of the air to a stiff breeze. Fortunately, the gravity remained the same. I looked up at the rep and all the color had drained from his face. “Pardon me” he said, absently and then ran out of the room. Not willing to give up learning what was going on, I followed. 

He ran past the reception hall, towards a control room deeper in the ship. As we entered, it was a frantic commotion of movement and noise. One of the suited humans at the door noticed me, and raised an eyebrow, questioning, but said nothing. 

“It’s overspeeding again! I told you it wasn’t ready to demo.” A human sitting at a station said to the rep as he walked in.

“Shut it down. Nobody has seen the reactor yet, we can switch back to shipboard power and Flipwarp everyone out of here before they see.” The rep had placed his hand on the back of the human’s chair and was peering over his shoulder at the screen. I couldn’t read the text, but I knew the humans used red to delineate problems, and the screens had a lot of red.

“What about the bird?” Another human looked over their shoulder at me and inclined their head. “They’re going to see the whole thing.”

“Don’t call them birds, you took the HR class same as me” the rep said, as he ran over to another station and pressed a few buttons. “He’s an Innari and one of the Coalition observers and we can have him sign an NDA. He wanted to see what the reactor looked like anyway.”  He stood and looked at me. “You’re going to sign an NDA when this is all over.” It was not a question. I nodded - a human gesture.

“Can I see the reactor now?”

One of the black suited humans stepped into the room, the one that was by the door when the demonstration was going on I think. She exuded this… authority. She wasn’t dressed any differently than the other suited humans, but at her entrance, everyone calmed down, became more subdued. “Show him. He’s already agreed to sign the NDA.”

“But, the frame-dragging-effect will be-” the Rep’s protestations were weak.

“Show. Him.” 

Without another word, he pressed a few more buttons on the panels, and a large screen in front of everyone lit up. It was the same view of the platform as before, but this one was magnified and much clearer than the ones we had in the demonstration hall. 

Something was wrong with the reactor. I looked wrong. When I looked past it the gantry in view, the lights, the interstellar stars behind it were… spiraling. Everything directly behind the reactor from our vantage point was gently spiraling. Without a word, I looked at the woman who had ordered me to see it.

“It’s frame-dragging.” She said, with a sigh. “Again.” She looked down at me, and noticed my confusion. She must have some training with Innari body language. “Some of the components in the reactor are spinning relativistically, which is causing the local space-time fabric to… spin.”

“Is it spinning, or are we?” I said, confused.

“Yes.” She said and sighed again. “They can't stop it if it’s already frame dragging, it’s going too fast. The pseudomass is too high. We either have to disconnect it and hope it spins down or…” she trailed off.

“Or what?”

“Or everyone finds out why we ordered this demonstration to be done two parsecs from any inhabited world.”

Well, that explained that at least. I looked back at the woman who seemed to be in charge. “So, why don’t we just Flipwarp away?”

“Yes, Allan, why don’t we just Flipwarp away?” She said pointedly, while looking at the Rep. 

“The investment at this point is in the kilotrillion Stars, we can’t just abandon-” he started, but then there was a flash of binding light from the reactor and I had thought it had detonated, but it… just… stayed.

“Oh, goody.” The human in charge said, flatly. “It’s started to accrete matter. Didn’t this happen the last time you ran a test Allan, and didn’t HIDA say that it was not to happen again?”

“Administrator McKay please, if we could only-” the human apparently named Allan said before he was cut off.

“No. This demonstration has finished. I am declaring an emergency, HIDA is now in charge.” Administrator McKay clicked a com on her wrist. “Captain, you will Flash us away right now. Best speed please.” There was a crackle of static and a small voice said something I couldn’t hear. “What do you mean, you can’t switch back to internal reactors?” More static and crackled voices. “No, that doesn’t make sense, the connections to-” before she could finish, there was a lurch, and I could feel the gravity begin to swing wildly, trying to compensate for the motion, but moving just an instant behind so it felt like I was being pulled in multiple directions. 

“Administrator! The pseudomass has transitioned to physical mass! We are being pulled by the reactor’s gravity. Stationkeeping reports that the thrusters are being overwhelmed. If we don’t Flash soon, we won’t be able to.”

“Damn you, Allan.” She said, snarling, “If we survive this StrossCo will go back to being an indie publisher, I will personally ensure it.” She looked down at me. “Innari! You’ve been deputized. Come with me.” Without checking to see if I was following she took off down the hall.

I followed, what else could I do? Her long strides made her deceptively fast, but she never fell out of sight, and we reached a room deep within the ship. On either side of the bulkhead were two armed and armored guards. When Administrator McKay came into view, they saluted sharply. 

She returned the salute quickly and said “We need to disconnect the umbilical to StrossCo’s test reactor so we can flash home on ours.”

“Right away Administrator,” and the guard on the right palmed a pad next to the door. There was a chirp and a green light, and the door slid open.

I’m an administrator, I’m not a reactor technician, a commander, or even an engineer. I talk to people, make deals. What I mean to explain is that I have no idea what a reactor hall - let alone a human reactor hall is supposed to look like. 

I’m pretty sure it wasn’t supposed to look like this, however. 

The room was painfully bright with sharp, stark shadows being cast by what I can only describe as a cable, stretched taut running down the middle of the hall. People wearing white suits with smoked helmets were running around the hall, trying to control something. I covered my eyes with my feathered hand, trying to not be dazzled, when Administrator McKay handed me a pair of goggles. Curiously, they were for Innari bodyplans. I wondered why she had those. Regardless, I put them on, and found that they were able to block the worst of the light from the cable while still enabling me to see. “Come along Inn-” She stopped. “What is your name? It feels rude to just call you ‘Innari.”

I couldn’t help myself. Even during an emergency, introductions must be done right. I stood up a little straighter and said “In the common parlance, I am called Howling Wind, though that is not my given name.”

“Nice to meet you, Howling Wind, I am Administrator Tiff McKay. Now that introductions are out of the way, I need you to go over to that panel, next to the cable.” She pressed a comm button into my hand, and almost reflexively, I clipped it to some feathers near my auditory input. Before I could ask why, she had taken off at a dead run towards the other end of the hall.

“Howling Wind, are you in position?” She asked a moment later. 

I had made my way to the panel she indicated. I was much closer to the cable than I preferred to be. It’s not that it was… hot, but it almost radiated something beyond heat. It radiated the impression of heat. That would be fine right? Probably. Innari aren’t as susceptible to ionizing radiation as humans are, but this wasn’t radioactive, I thought. “I am at the panel Administrator McKay.”

“Good. While looking at the panel, there are a series of three buttons along the top right corner. They’re normally red and blue but with your goggles and the light from the cable that is probably washed out. Press them one time only moving from left to right.”

I pressed the buttons, and there was a click below me

“A panel will have opened up. I’ll need you to duck into the panel and tell me when you are in position.”

I looked in, and sure enough, an opening barely large enough for someone of my size had opened. I leaned in nearly all the way. “I am.. In the panel.”

“To your right is a lever. It has a trigger near the base. You must pull the trigger first and then push the lever. Do it now.”

“What will it-”

“Just do it Howl, there isn’t time.”

Mentally shrugging, and whispering a prayer to my Ancestors - may they watch over me and not laugh too much - I pulled the trigger, there was a detent and then I felt something like a spring release, and pushed the lever. 

It was very hard to push. I had to put my whole body into it, and at first it felt like I wasn’t doing anything. I braced my back against the top of the panel, and pushed as hard as I could. When I thought I couldn’t push anymore, there was a clunk and a whipping, metallic noise and I was plunged into darkness. I could hear shouting and boots thundering around me, then there was the prismatic flash of light that filled the reactor room for an instant that indicated that we had Flashed. 

I slowly slid myself out from under the panel, only to find Administrator McKay looming over me. She held out a hand, and I gladly took her help to get back on my talons. Sliding the goggles down from my face, I looked at her. “Just what… did we do?”

“We - er, you initiated a manual disconnect of the umbilical from the overspeeding reactor so that the frigate’s reactors could Flash us to safety. You saved everyone Howl.”

As she spoke, some of the reactor technicians took off their smoked goggles and took a look. I could feel their eyes staring at me.

I could only think of stupid things to say, so I just said it. “Why me?”

McKay laughed. “Just lucky I guess. There was a serious amount of ionizing radiation coming from the connector and I knew that Innari were much more resistant to radiation than humans, so I was able to get you to disconnect it. We’ll take you to med, but I think you’ll be fine. How are your hands?”

My hands? I looked down and… yes, some of the tiny feathers on my digits had turned gray, and were falling off, dead. It didn’t hurt though. Shouldn’t it hurt?

“Ah yes, some minor damage to your hands.” She said. “We’ll fix it up, don’t worry.”

“Why doesn’t it hurt?” I asked, dumfounded.

“It doesn’t hurt?” She seemed surprised. “I didn’t think Innari went into shock, so maybe the nerve endings were destroyed.” She patted my shoulder. “Regardless, you saved us all today Howl, thank you.” There were smiles and noises of thanks and congratulations coming from the reactor team, it was… odd.

“Everything happened so suddenly. I didn’t have time to question my reactions.” I said to her, as we walked down the hall towards med.

“Yes, that’s how emergencies go Howl. You did well. In fact-” She reached into her pocket and took out a small white card and placed it into the pocket of my sash. “When your hands are all healed, call me. We can always use people who can think on their feet.

[mostly-marvel-musings]

Chapter 6 - Terms and Conditions

A/N: Here we are, there’s some fluff here, babies 🫶🏻 Hope y’all like it.

Pairing: Tony Stark x Wife! Reader

Warning: slow burn.

Terms and Conditions

.

You don’t knock.

Mostly because you don’t want to wake him, not if, by some miracle, Tony Stark is actually asleep past sunrise. But also because you’re balancing a tray of food and a handwritten note, and knocking would require at least one more hand than you currently have.

So instead, you set the tray gently on the little table just outside his bedroom door, beside the glass wall that floods the hallway with Malibu sunlight.

Coffee, eggs and a croissant that could win awards. You know his usual, though he doesn’t know how you figured it out.

There’s a sticky note next to the coffee that reads:

Don’t forget Steve and Bucky’s brunch at 11. Wear something that says “I’m not emotionally unstable, I’m just rich.”

By the time he wakes all groggy but not hollowed out, the ache in his chest dulled for once he sees the tray and freezes for a moment, like it might disappear if he blinks. Then he spots the note and huffs a soft laugh.

“FRIDAY,” he mumbles, voice still raspy.

“Yes, boss?”

“Tell her I’m… grateful. Don’t make it weird.”

“You already did, sir.”

He finishes every last bite.

.

You arrive separately, something about not making a scene even though half the guest list already assumes you and Tony are either honeymooning or in the middle of a silent divorce. There’s no in-between with the press.

The brunch is surprisingly elegant. All white linens, tasteful jazz, and the occasional suspiciously strong mimosa.

You chat with Wanda about urban beekeeping. Sam catches you up on whatever hobby Steve is currently over-researching-today it’s homemade pasta. Bucky is trying not to murder the host’s houseplants by staring too hard.

Tony? He’s on the other side of the patio, talking animatedly with Bruce and T’Challa about arc reactor miniaturization but you can feel when he glances over. Like gravity shifts just slightly, pulling your eyes toward his.

It’s that look again.

The “I shouldn’t be staring” look.

And the “you definitely caught me staring” aftermath.

You sip your drink, slowly and smirk a little. He smirks back.

You catch up with him by the mimosa bar where else, fiddling with the tongs.

“You’re late,” you murmur, plucking a berry from a bowl before he can.

He doesn’t look up right away, just smirks to himself like you’ve said something deeply amusing. “I was getting beauty sleep. Someone sent me breakfast in bed, remember?”

“Ah, yes. The mysterious, kind-hearted wife. What a catch.”

“Mm,” he hums, finally looking at you, eyes warm, dangerously so. “She’s got good taste in coffee. And men.”

You tilt your head. “Debatable.”

And then he leans in, so casually, so perfectly timed just as Sam walks by and presses a kiss to your cheek. His hand ghosts along your back, thumb resting lightly at your waist. Public. Practiced. But his lips linger just a second longer than necessary.

You recover quickly, turning to smooth your expression as Steve and Bucky make their way over.

“Well, look at you two,” Steve says, grinning like a proud dad at prom. “Married life suits you.”

“Oh, we’re insufferable now,” you say sweetly, locking arms with Tony like you do it every day. “He’s been waking me up at two a.m with engineering metaphors.”

“And she keeps buying furniture that doesn’t match my aesthetic,” Tony deadpans. “It’s a nightmare.”

“Tragic,” Bucky mutters around his mimosa, one eyebrow raised. “And yet, somehow, the internet still thinks you’re couple goals.”

“Because we are,” Tony replies with exactly the confidence of a man who bought a Malibu mansion before telling his wife. “Did you see our wedding cake? That thing deserved its own museum wing.”

Steve chuckles. “Well, you two pulled it off. Everyone at brunch is talking about how happy you look.”

You glance at Tony just as he glances at you. His smile is easy, camera-ready. Yours matches it perfectly.

“We are,” you say, tone just earnest enough to sound real. “Happy.”

It’s a good lie. The best ones always are.

.

The front door clicks shut behind you with a satisfying finality.

Your heels are off before you even make it past the foyer, one in each hand like war trophies. Tony’s ditched his jacket and loosened his tie, already unbuttoning the top of his shirt like he’s shedding a persona. Maybe he is.

You both pause in the living room, eyeing the view. The ocean’s pulling the sun down slowly, the sky a pink-orange haze.

“God,” you groan, flopping dramatically onto the couch, “if one more person asked me about Monte Carlo, I was going to throw a breadstick at them.”

Tony laughs an honest, full one that surprises even him. He flops down next to you, socks sliding on the sleek floor, and slouches deep into the cushions.

“They asked me if I serenaded you under moonlight. I told them I sang AC/DC into a hairdryer. Close enough.”

You snort. “We really are couple goals.”

“Oh, absolutely. Especially the part where you drank three cocktails and made fun of Bucky’s beard.”

“In my defense, it looks like a small woodland creature took up residence on his chin.”

Tony grins sideways at you, soft and tired. “Well. We survived brunch. That deserves at least a nap or a Nobel Peace Prize.”

You nudge his knee with yours. “How about pizza and bad TV?”

He hums, pretends to think it over. “Deal. But only if we order those breadsticks you threatened brunch-goers with. I want to taste the violence.”

You both laugh again lighter this time, the kind that sinks into your ribs and stays there. The sun’s nearly gone now. Malibu’s wrapped in gold and hush.

And for once, there’s no press, no AI updates, no reactor failing in the dark.

Just this. You. Him. A room full of quiet truths neither of you are ready to say yet.

But maybe one day.

.

Somewhere between the second slice of pepperoni and a terrible rerun of Knight Rider, your eyes start to drift. Tony’s slouched low on the other end of the couch, socked feet on the coffee table, head tilted back as he listens to you half-rant, half-yawn about plot holes.

“…and why is the car sentient but still drives like it’s in a ‘70s chase scene? That’s just bad AI design.”

“Hey,” he murmurs, eyes closed, voice rumbling. “KITT walked so JARVIS could run.”

You hum in agreement. It’s comfortable. Dangerous, how easy it is. The kind of silence that stretches instead of smothers.

Then there’s the soft pat-pat of tiny paws.

Dum-E the cat trots in with a queen’s confidence and the judgmental stare of someone who’s lived nine lives and thinks you two are being ridiculous. She weaves herself between both your legs, tail flicking like a royal decree. Her approval is silent but clear:

My humans are finally figuring it out.

Tony blinks one eye open, watching her circle before hopping up to curl neatly on the cushion between you. “She’s been giving me side-eye since Monte Carlo. Guess this is her truce offering.”

“She tolerates you now,” you murmur, head tipping to the side. “That’s true love in cat terms.”

The words barely leave your mouth before the lull of the room pulls you under. Your head lolls sideways, brushing Tony’s shoulder. He stiffens for just a second, long enough to process the proximity, then softens.

He shifts just enough so your head rests more comfortably. Doesn’t say a word.

Not long after, his eyes drift shut too.

And that’s how Pepper finds you.

She walks in to drop off some papers, expecting chaos—maybe Tony on a call, maybe you arguing with a prototype toaster.

Instead, she sees this.

You, curled into Tony’s side like you’ve always belonged there. Dum-E the cat nestled between you. Tony breathing steady for the first time in what feels like months.

Her heels click on the hardwood. She pauses. Watches.

Her jaw tightens with something complicated flickering in her eyes. But she doesn’t interrupt. Doesn’t call his name.

Just leaves the folder on the counter, glances back once more… and walks out.

She doesn’t like it.

But even she can see it’s real.

.

Later That Night…

You wake up slowly.

Not to alarms or glowing arc reactors, but to warmth. That delicious, heavy-limbed kind of warmth you only get from an unplanned nap on the world’s most expensive couch.

Your cheek is resting on something firm. And breathing.

It takes a second to register: it’s Tony.

His arm is draped lazily around your shoulders. He’s fast asleep, head tilted slightly toward you, brow relaxed in a way you never get to see when he’s awake and overthinking twelve things at once. There’s a softness to him like this unguarded, unbothered.

And between you?

Dum-E, snuggled into your lap like a living croissant. She stretches once, opens one suspicious eye at your movement, then goes back to purring like she owns the place. (She kind of does.)

You’re just starting to move when your stomach betrays you, loud and unapologetic.

Tony shifts with a groggy murmur. “Was that a seismic event, or are you hungry?”

“I think I just growled louder than your suit.” You blink.

One of his eyes cracks open. “Good. Friday’s ordered you fries.”

You sit up a little, and that’s when the smell hits you: golden, glorious, perfectly salted fries. Your favorite kind, judging by the little paper bag perched carefully on the table, and wait. Is that…?

“Did we also get ice cream?” you ask, spotting the half-melted tub of pistachio and sea salt caramel on a nearby coaster.

He makes a lazy noise of agreement. “I’ve learned that feeding you is an investment in my continued survival.”

You laugh like, actually laugh and grab the fries. He watches with one arm still draped over the back of the couch, looking far too pleased with himself for a man who just woke up from a power nap next to his fake wife.

“Want some?” you ask, offering a fry.

He leans forward and nabs one from your hand without hesitation. “That’s extortion.”

“That’s gratitude.”

You sit like that for a while cross-legged, sleepy, sharing fries and alternating spoonfuls of ice cream straight from the tub. The Malibu night hums quietly around you, soft waves brushing the shore like a lullaby.

Then, because it’s one of those rare, settled silences that makes you want to say something real:

“Did your mom like ice cream?” you ask, voice low.

Tony’s quiet for a moment. Then: “Not really. She drank herbal tea. All the time. Like it was a coping mechanism.”

“Was it?”

“Probably.”

You glance at him. He’s still relaxed, still looking at the ocean through the wall of glass, but something’s shifted. Just a little.

“And your dad?”

He huffs softly. “Liked control. Disliked me.”

You don’t push. Just reach for the spoon, scoop another bite, and offer it wordlessly.

He takes it.

“Jarvis—our butler—he was the only one who gave a damn. Taught me how to tie a tie, drive stick, build my first circuit board.”

“Sounds like the real MVP.”

“He was.”

There’s a flicker of something vulnerable there, something raw than even the night he almost collapsed in front of you.

You lean back into the couch, nudging your shoulder against his. “My dad made the world’s worst pancakes. Like, genuinely offensive. But he made them every Sunday.”

Tony smiles. “Your mom burned toast. Your dad committed pancake crimes. You must’ve grown up so strong.”

“I’m a survivor.”

The ice cream is mostly soup now, but you don’t care. Neither of you moves. Dum-E (the cat) shifts again, her tail flicking between your knees like a little silent approval.

“This,” Tony says eventually, like he’s surprised to hear himself say it out loud, “isn’t the worst day I’ve had.”

And for once, you don’t joke it away. You just smile.

Because, well, the same.

The room feels quieter now less Malibu mansion, more liminal dreamspace.

You glance at him, take in the tousled hair, the soft expression, the way his shoulders have finally dropped from their usual perch up around his ears. Then you blink, leaning forward just slightly.

“Hold still,” you murmur.

Tony does, watching you with an expression that’s somewhere between suspicious and intrigued.

You reach out lightly and swipe a thumb across the corner of his mouth. A tiny smear of sea salt caramel disappears.

“There. You were hoarding dessert.”

He snorts, a low, genuine sound that makes something warm stir in your chest. “Next time I’ll charge rent for cheek real estate.”

You roll your eyes, but you’re smiling. And somehow, impossibly, neither of you is quite ready to break the spell. But the ice cream’s melted, the fries are gone, and Dum-E the cat has abandoned you both to chase imaginary ghosts across the hallway.

It’s time.

You both stand, too simultaneously. There’s an awkward beat where you should probably just say “goodnight” like a normal person, but of course, you don’t.

Instead, Tony Stark sticks out his hand for a handshake.

You stare at it.

Then, because you’re both certifiably out of your minds, you take it. Firm grip. Slightly lingering. Possibly the most emotionally intimate handshake in recorded human history.

“Well,” he says.

“Well,” you echo.

And then you part ways, like diplomats after a successful treaty. Like two very married strangers who are maybe, possibly starting to become something else entirely.

Later, alone in your room with the sea wind slipping through the crack in the window, you glance at the folded blanket he covered you with earlier. You think about the way he watched you sleep. The way he offered you fries and shared the kind of stories most people don’t get from him unless they’re dying. Which, technically, he was.

You think maybe you could get used to this.

You don’t say it out loud.

But you fall asleep wondering what it would be like—to stop pretending.

[writersglock]

The imperial royal ball.

Palpatine, shaking hands with guests: May the fourth be with you. Ah senator may the fourth be with you. Governor, may the fourth be with you as well.

Palpatine: Good evening, Command-

Fox: May you be thrown face first into a reactor shaft.

Palpatine: What?

Fox, laughing maniacally as he skips away: Revenge of the fifth is mine!

Amedda: Was that the clone that does our taxes?

Palpatine: Not anymore. The IRS is auditing me, turns out he's a serial tax evader.

[eightdaysofdiana]

"People write stories pretending you can alter the past, but it can't be done. All you can do to the past is remember it wrong or interpret it differently."

The horrors of the past, the traps of the future, and being cursed, with sisters.

[NB: this is another one that deals more directly with abuse and suicidality in several forms]

For more on Time of the Ghost, check out Em's Reactor article on Making the Metaphor Literal: Fantastic Reality in The Time of the Ghost by Diana Wynne Jones. Transcript available here. We'll be back in two weeks with The Homeward Bounders, and a guest!

[ghoulphile]

corruption kink anon again (srry for spamming you I just have a lot of ideasss): At the beginning your shoulders brush and you shift away with a barely hidden look of disgust. "Now, don't be like that. Lots of folks like the idea of me touching them." Coop would mumble, pulling off his gloves with his teeth. He'd catch your eyes and wink, notice your grimace as well as your cheeks flushing. "After all, it's ribbed for your pleasure." Even though the particular reference is over 200 years old, the implication isn't lost on you. Not when you turn away completely from him with a quick noise of disapproval. He would chuckle, letting his legs fall open as he relaxed fully tipping his hat so he could see you, but not the other way around. He would get real comfortable, maybe even place a hand on his belt for added measure. He loves that you stare at his dick through his pants, hoping for a peak of what's under the faded fabric. And he especially loves the way your pupils dilate when you start staring too long, getting lost in thought as you chew at your lower lip. Sometimes he splayes his legs out to the approximate space that you would fit in to, just to feed your imagination.

💀 And when you finally can't take it anymore and do sink to your knees before him, fingers brushing curiously over his crotch, he leans back and watches.

Those intense eyes stripping you bare as you stroke along the curve of his cock, see the fabric pull taut as it fills out. Watch with wide eyes as it twitches.

"Heh, you really wanna take a peek, don't you, darlin'?" His thighs spread wider in invitation, emphasizing the thick bulge of his erection. "Why, be my guest."

You exhale through your nose at the clink of his belt buckle, your fingers shaking as they grasp at the zipper and tug, the sound of the teeth popping free scraping down your spine.

It shouldn't surprise you that he goes commando, and yet...

When his cock springs out with a heavy smack against his lower belly, you nearly swallow your tongue. He's so girthy, your fingers have no hope of fully encircling it. The skin is rough, ragged - little patches of texture and ridges of ropey scar tissue decorating the shaft.

All you can do is stare, eyes tracing along the thick vein that pulses on the underside, the sticky ooze of pre-cum beading on the fat tip. You can feel the heat radiating off of him, like there's a nuclear reactor boiling just beneath the surface.

And you know there's no fucking way that's going to fit (unless he forces it to).

He tsks, reaches down with a gloved hand to grope at himself. Rubs his knuckles over his balls before grabbing the head between his fingers and squeezing until the pre dribbles from him in a long string of fluid.

"Cat got your tongue, sweetheart?"

"I--"

He sucks his teeth, taunts, "Why the sudden change of heart, huh? You was gaggin' for it just a minute ago. Too gross lookin' for you - s'that it?"

"No!" you protest, a spike of panic shooting through you. Maybe once upon a time but not anymore. You're long past that. "No, I just - there's no way that's going to fit."

"Ah, I see." He smirks, a dark, crooked little quirk of the mouth. "Well, then, if that's all you was worried 'bout... get ta work."

"I'm sorry?" you blink.

"I ain't sayin' it again." He grabs the base firmly, uses his grip to hold his cock out towards your face. "It ain't gonna suck itself. Now, open up them pretty lips of yours. I'm gonna make it fit one way or another."

[aromantic-ace]

Humans Are Weirds/SpaceOrcs: Junkers

I've seen that quite a bit but what if the thing that made humans so strange and deadly was their ability to use anything in any state, what if the aliens are so much advanced technologically that they have developed some safety mesure such as not using a component if it got the slighest damage, "just buy a new one" they say "or go to the workshop and get a fresh one, decadent component shouldnt be used". And then, here come the humans.

It was my first time on a human vessel, my superiors warned me about the human and their excentricity, that i should read carefully the Intergalactic Manuals About Humans and learn the most i could from the specie still using a technology old enough that even my grandparents barely heard of it.

I wasn't expexting much when i boarded on the ship, it seemed nice and i was here for 14 cycles to help the humans explore the void of space, some kind of guide telling them where they could go and where they couldn't. To be honest i was kind of curious to see how those fleshbags were going to navigate.

The captain, a Lady of roughly 49 humans years with a missing eye welcomed me and offered to give me a tour of the ship, it felt weird for the captain of a vessel to give a tour to a guest but i already knew human were weird but.. have they got no shame ? To be so open like that ? It's dangerous, more than one specie would take advantage of that. But anyway i accepted her offer as i had to live there for the next 14 cycles and everything seemed right at first, i met Colonel Stabby their... cleaning robots with what looked like a military knife strapped on it and explored quite a bit of the ship. All was good, just a few holes to patch after a rough travel in a asteroid field, until i saw the state of their engine room.

I don't know how to describe it other than by saying "How are they still alive ?", their reactor looked no where like the picture we were sent, wires were coming out of the side in a chaotic mess, the core looked like it was pieced together multiple time before being strapped on to make sure it wouldn't move, i'm pretty sure i saw some kind of caged wheel being used as a way of kicking the reactor into action and one of the crew was using the heat produced to Cook food ! When i asked the captain about this she simply shrugged and told me that this reactor was doing fine for over twenty humans years and that there was no reason for it to not continue doing so, apparently humans tech is built to stay usable even when damaged and for extremely long period of time. Her reactor was supposed to be changed at least ten humans years ago !

I immediatly asked to leave the ship on the instant and went back to bring my reports to higher ups, i was stunned to learn that it was no special case, those kind of ship were well known and called "Junker" because they were full of junks. But the weird thing was that out of all the humans vessels those were the most dangerous in a fight, because the humans usually pieced together old and new tech to fight, making it hard to know what would hit you, they apparently roam in the battlefield arter battles to collect scrap to add to their vessel. I asked to have my affectation changed and promised myself to never step in a ship where every component could be throw at the bin again, Humans are definitively too weird !

[whateverisbeautiful]

TWD is a comfort show that I love to rewatch and play in the background, my family is numb to it and luckily accepts my quirks as I do them. How many times have you rewatched the series? What’s your favorite season?

You get it! I once told some of my friends that TWD is my comfort show and they were shocked this series could be a comfort show lol. I’ve rewatched the first 7 seasons about 3-4 times I think. I’ve also watched different reactors react to the show plenty of times. That’s always fun to essentially watch the series through others’ fresh eyes.

I’d say my favorite season is Season 3. It features some of my favorite episodes like Clear, Arrow on the Doorpost, & This Sorrowful Life. The s3 cast really gave powerful performances all across the board - from Andrew Lincoln all throughout to Lennie James’ phenomenal guest appearance in Clear. Pretty much all the characters have very interesting things going on this season and it’s well-developed. I enjoyed seeing the characters navigate this in-between state where they’re not novices to the apocalypse but they’re not seasoned vets yet either.

And then of course I adore Michonne’s addition to the story. She added so much to the series and it’s great seeing the beginning of her bond with Carl and Rick. Merle’s whole arc was really compelling to me and I feel Daryl is at his most layered and interesting this season too. The Governor is also TWD’s best villain imo and he made for an intriguing antagonist to the season.

Your question made me curious to get a sense of other people’s favorite TWD season so I put a little poll here if anyone wants to share. 😊

[secondarysefikura]

So those time travel ideas I gave, I will say that if you or anyone else wants to write one of these stories or story based off of these ideas I have please be my guest. I’m unfortunately not a writer, I would love to one day but for now I want to practice on my own writing before giving it a shot, that being said here’s some add ons to them:

In idea one Clond definitely heads to Nibelheim to wake Vincent up before burning the mansion and all of lies about Sephiroth down, and destroying the reactor along with Jenova. But before that he ends up standing in front of his childhood home for a good few minutes, because he’s in the past that means that his mom is still alive, which means he could see her. But he doesn’t know if he should see her because he’s afraid of freaking her out. Either Cloud ends up walking away and going to the mansion, or Claudia opens the door while Cloud is still deciding what to do and sees him.

In idea two while Zack and Sephiroth are trying to murder each other Cloud gets his own fan club. Everyone wants to know how on Gaia that blonde twink manage to win the affection of not just the puppy but also Sephiroth of all people. His fan club becomes more popular then the firsts’ combined.

In idea three Angeal and Genesis notice Sephiroth being very creepy and possessive when it comes to his student. After finding out that Sephiroth ordered that Cloud be allowed to move into his apartment with him, they try to separate the two and ask Cloud if Sephiroth has been forcing him to do anything. After that next mission the firsts go one together(Cloud is also with them) Angeal and Genesis mysteriously disappear during it, and when Cloud and Sephiroth return to Midgar Cloud now has the Buster sword. They both claim they found it ‘abandoned.’

In idea four Sephiroth at one point begins to notice that Cloud is barely sleeping. As time goes on and the bags under Cloud’s eyes become worst and worst Sephiroth is finally able to get Cloud to tell him why he’s not sleeping. It turns out that Cloud can only sleep if he’s in bed with Sephiroth and his arms are around him. So instead of having Cloud sleep in the guest room, Sephiroth let’s Cloud sleep in his bed with him, and as soon as Sephiroth has his arms around Cloud, Cloud is out like a light.

Hojo dies in all of the ideas. With the first one its either by future Cloud or Sephiroth, second one it’s Zack as soon as he realizes he’s in the past(and once he’s done he quickly goes to find Cloud and Angeal so he can give them both a hug), third one it’s both Cloud and Sephiroth after he’s made Cloud ‘perfect’ which means that Sephiroth doesn’t need him alive anymore, and for the fourth idea it’s Sephiroth probably because Hojo had Cloud captured and brought to him while Sephiroth is away, when Sephiroth finds out he returns to Midgar as fast as he can to finally rid the planet, especially him and Cloud of Hojo.

I hope one day you do feel confident enough to perhaps write fanfiction of your own. Honestly the best advice I've ever gotten for writing is that until you write a million words, nothing you write is good. Which may seem discouraging, but I've always taken it as an excuse to write without worrying if my work is 'good.' Of course I go through and edit things, but I don't have to be discouraged if something I write isn't good. It doesn't matter, it's counting towards the million words I have to write before my works are considered 'good'!

Anyway, onto your ideas!

In idea 1, I honestly didn't think about Vincent at all! It's a good thing Cloud thought to wake him or else Vincent would have woken up to a scene straight out of hell! Also Cloud trying to decide if he should visit his mom...so sad. PERFECT!

Cloud getting his own fanclub in idea two is hilarious to me, since I feel like it starts with Cloud getting his own conspiracy forum that then evolves into a fanclub. Move over Silver Elite, the "Who is this Blonde Twink" conspiracy group is now the most popular page in all of Midgar!

Idea three is evil~ You just know that Sephiroth prepped Cloud on what to do in the case anyone ever started asking Cloud about their relationship or tried to 'break them apart.' If someone ever tries to do such a thing, Sephiroth tells Cloud, you listen to them and play along then tell me IMMEDIATELY. Such a shame about Angeal and Genesis disappearing on their next mission, but is it really a surprise? Rumours have been going around for ages now that they were planning to desert...

Idea four, awwwww. It's both incredibly sad and incredibly sweet. You just know Sephiroth is a bit uncomfortable with the touch but also wants to see the poor thing sleep for once. And look how peaceful Cloud is when he's tucked in his arms! He hates whoever made Cloud feel this way, but he supposes he is willing to do this much to help Cloud feel better.

Also bye Hojo. Of course any time traveler worth their salt (or any caretaker of an emotionally terrified time traveler) would get rid of Hojo. He's the source of so many problems, killing him really is for the best.

[carionto]

Hyperbrake Racing

Everything in Human ships has a manual override. They love automating all processes and reduce any workload to nothing, but also have this compulsive need to be able to take direct control if so desired.

They also have emergency off switches for everything. Yes, including life support. Don't ask, you'll just get a variant of:

"But What If!?"

Obviously, this applies to things you should never under any circumstances shut down preemptively, such as a Hyperspace Jump.

The earliest space-faring civilizations quickly discovered that if a Hyperdrive has a power interruption even for a nano-second your atoms will get dispersed across a few light months. This is why all Hyperdrives have an internal chargeable uninterruptible power supply unit.

Humanity, however, did not allow "Not having any reason whatsoever" to stop them from figuring out a way. Utilizing their ridiculous quantum computer speed and the ability of their fusion reactors to charge a Hyperdrive mid-jump, and with an injection of a disgusting few million lines of hack code that manipulate all related pieces of hardware in just the most nauseating sequences, they created the Hyperbrake.

Also, not a metaphor - braking literally causes Humans to feel nauseous, sometimes throw up, rarely even pass out. Not a single volunteer crew member aboard joint vessels from any of the other Coalition species has dared to "test" what happens to them.

As with nearly all things Humans come across or invent, they will find a use for it should one not occur normally.

_____________________

Near Neptune

Daniel, Samantha, and Nicholas Schreier were three siblings ages 17, 19, and 20, respectively. Today they had "borrowed" their dad's General FordStar mark 980-MZ HaulerHound, a civilian grade transport typically used by small business owners. Dad, however, was an enthusiast, and had modified the "Hound Dog", as he calls it, with a military grade reactor and computer core. He's always been that guy who knows a guy who knows a guy who knows a guy who can get the thing legally enough.

There is a nearby research station that the kids often visit due to their mom working there, but today she was not. Instead, what they are doing, is racing against each other to set the best record. Well, technically the opposite of racing - coming to a halt.

Using the Hyperbrake, they are competing to see who can stop the closest to the stations outer point-defense range without entering it or you automatically lose. After Samantha's turn, they were suddenly contacted by the station. It was Yakovskii, one of mom's colleagues and a frequent guest at dad's barbecues, so they were on sorta good terms. Not by the tone voice coming through the comms rights now though:

"What in the Hell are you thinking!? At first I thought you were just messing around and accidentally did that, but TWICE now!?! I checked the trajectory, if you had stopped a half-second later, you would've ended up mere meters from Neptune's upper atmosphere! Did you account for the possible sudden gravitational pull? Can you maneuver that lumbering ship fast enough to not get pulled down? Not to mention Hyperbraking severely impairs your cognitive abilities for a moment? A moment that you need to be clearheaded for or risk DEATH!?!"

The three siblings could only hang their heads in shame and mutter out some weak apologies. After a moment of silence and reflection, Yakovskii speaks in a warmer tone:

*sigh* "Look, I understand it's a fancy new toy and you want to see what you can do. I get it, I really do. Me and my brother used to play vertical hockey the first time we got our hands on a surplus gravity field generator. But we first figured out how to make sure we didn't break our bones in case it failed. Seriously, never forget to consider your own safety first before you try out new things in a peaceful environment. You're not being chased by pirates or trying to avoid the law or whatever.

Take your time, pick a starting position that's further away and keeps Neptune and any of its moons to the side of the station, then aim for an area of space that only has the outer range of the defenses and empty space ahead from your point of view. And please set the regular Hyperjump destination within Sol, don't just pick a random place. The Hyperbrake sometimes loops in on itself and never executes the brake and can only be reset once out of Hyperspace. You don't want to get stuck in a pointless jump for hours do you?"

After this admonishment, the siblings apologized more energetically and took his advice to heart. They spent the next hour competing until all three were down to single meter differences and kinda got bored, so they docked at the station and hung out with the off-duty staff, played some poker, but then dad barged in and dragged them all home. They were not invited to the barbecue gatherings for two weeks, but only because mom told him to. Personally he was excited about all the data his kids had unknowingly given him with all their jumping and braking, a real stress test for his beautiful Hound Dog.

[iaminsideyourwalls]

More Charger and some Reactor

Guest cameos today: @arts-of-gjb's OC Haru and @beepartcollection's OC Jay

[mostly-marvel-musings]

Can I request a tony stark fanfic based on Super Bowl by stray kids ? 🙇‍♀️

Main Event

A/N: This had been marinating in my inbox for the longest time. Leave a heart or comment if you’ve enjoyed.

Pairing: Tony Stark x Reader

Warning: none!

Tony Stark Masterlist

.

You weren’t supposed to be impressed.

Not by him, anyway.

But here he was shirt slightly unbuttoned, arc reactor glowing like he’d swallowed a star, swagger turned up to eleven commanding the stage at a Stark Expo press event like it was the damn Super Bowl halftime show.

Tony Stark was the show.

And he knew it.

“I don’t build things to fit in,” he’d said earlier that day, brushing soot off his sleeve from a freshly tested micro drone.

“I build things so the rest of the world tries to catch up.”

He looked at you when he said it. Not the press. Not the board. You.

Because lately, Tony had been doing something dangerous. He was showing off.

.

You watched him from the wings, arms crossed, expression neutral.

He winked mid-speech, of course he did.

And when the presentation ended, music thumping, lights flashing, drones spelling “STARK” across the sky—he strutted off stage like a man who just won a championship and still had enough energy to flirt with danger.

You didn’t clap. You just quirked an eyebrow as he approached.

“Subtle,” you said.

“Wasn’t aiming for subtle,” he replied. “Was aiming for jaw-drop. How’d I do?”

“You look like a man who made a bet with himself about how many camera angles could catch his ‘good side.’”

“Joke’s on them,” Tony said, leaning in, eyes glinting. “All my sides are good.”

He was close now—so close you could smell the faint trace of cologne and adrenaline. There was a smug curve to his lips, the kind that said I win. Always do.

You tipped your head. “You hungry for something, Stark? ‘Cause you’re prowling like a man looking for dessert.”

“Only if you’re on the menu, sweetheart.”

There it was, the full Tony Stark treatment swagger, smirk, sex-on-a-stick confidence.

“All flash. No follow-through,” you said, cool as ice.

That stopped him. Just for a second.

Then the smirk curved wider. Slower. Lazier.

“Challenge accepted.”

.

Later That Night…

The afterparty was in full swing, but Tony wasn’t on the floor with the guests. He was in the private lounge, drink in hand, tie loosened, watching the security footage of you absolutely wrecking a lab tech in a playful debate about AI ethics.

“God, she’s hot when she argues,” he murmured to himself.

“Sir,” came JARVIS’s voice, dry as ever. “You say that daily.”

“Because it’s true daily.”

And when you walked in cool, collected, knowing damn well he was waiting, he stood up like the game was on again.

“Back for round two?” he asked, voice low, smug.

“I don’t play games,” you replied. “But I do win.”

He stepped in, close enough to feel your breath. “What exactly are you trying to win, sweetheart?”

You just smirked. “The main event.”

And when your lips met his, it wasn’t a kiss. It was a score. A touchdown in the fourth quarter. A scream-inducing, camera-flashing, highlight reel kind of kiss.

Tony Stark might’ve been the MVP. But you?

You were the one who made him sweat.

[warframestuff]

Warframe GameBlast 2025 Charity Stream Announce! Feb 20th 6 p.m. ET

Warframe is once again participating in SpecialEffect’s GameBlast25 fundraising campaign! SpecialEffect is a UK based charity that helps thousands of people with physical disabilities find ways to play video games. 

Join us on twitch.tv/warframe Thursday, February 20th at 6 p.m. ET for a special Prime Time jam packed with giveaways featuring Danielle, Zach, and returning guest host, SpecialEffect’s Gaming Community Manager Paige Harvey!

Tenno are invited to tune in, redeem the week’s Twitch drops, and consider donating what they can! You can donate to SpecialEffect through our JustGiving campaign at https://www.justgiving.com/page/warframe-gameblast25 

If we achieve our stream fundraising milestones, we’ll unlock 1x built Forma, 5x Universal Medallions, 1x built Orokin Reactor & 1x built Orokoin Catalyst for all Tenno in-game via an Alert going live on February 28!

$1,000 Raised: 1x Built Forma Alert

$3,000 Raised: 5x Universal Medallion Alert

$5,000 Raised: 1x Built Orokin Catalyst & 1x Built Orokin Reactor Alert

We’ll also be cycling through Platinum and Prime Access raffles all throughout the stream!

Content creators wishing to host their own SpecialEffect fundraising streams can consider joining Team Warframe on JustGiving!

ABOUT SPECIALEFFECT SpecialEffect is a UK based charity who help thousands of people who share your passion for video games, but their physical disabilities stop or limit their ability to play.

By adapting technology from modified joypads to eye-control, SpecialEffect finds a way for people to play to the best of their abilities, bringing families and friends together & having a profoundly positive impact on confidence, rehabilitation and quality of life.

USING JUSTGIVING JustGiving is a popular UK based social platform for online fundraising. When donating you'll see a "Tip to JustGiving" section; JustGiving does not charge charities any platform fee and asks donors for a small contribution instead. If you do NOT wish to give JustGiving a voluntary contribution, click or tap "Enter Custom Amount" and leave the box blank to set the voluntary contribution to 0.

Donate Here: https://www.justgiving.com/page/warframe-gameblast25  Tune In Feb 20: https://twitch.tv/warframe