#hive like in form and function

[adaginy]

The Big Guide to Humans: Language

Most humans use their lungs, mouths, and larynx (a small organ between them colloquially called the "voice box") to produce audible language. There are also "signed" languages, in which the positions and motions of fingers, hands, and arms are used in place of audible language, primarily for communication with those lacking a sense of hearing or ability to use their mouths or larynx, but also in places where silence is required. There are also languages of whistling, a high-pitched noise made with the lips (the mobile edges of their mouths). Terra has thousands of languages, many of them incredibly complex and precise. Despite this, humans rarely use translation docks with each other, preferring to find a language they have in common. Most humans can use at least two Terran languages. They are likely to speak (or sign or whistle) a native language and are expected to speak or sign one or more Terran-Common languages (see human history for how Terran-Common languages spread). They may also be able to use languages of other regions as needed for trade, diplomacy, or curiosity. Human languages additionally have features called "accents" and "dialects." What makes something an accent, a dialect, or a separate language is ostensibly a spectrum of how different they are... but in practice some accents are not mutually intelligible* with each other while some languages are, and what is a "dialect" as opposed to one or the other may be political rather than practical: We asked human language-experts about this and the answer given by several of them** was "A language is a dialect with an army and a navy" (two types of human military). As a matter of practicality, translation docks allow for translation into and out of most dialects if the dialect (or accent) is, functionally, a separate language. This sometimes caused problems in comparatively early human space-history for those political reasons, but Terran politics has become more cooperative over time. Most human languages, particularly spoken ones, also have a written form. There are far fewer writing styles than languages. For example, many languages, including multiple Terran-Common languages, use what is known as the "Roman alphabet," named for a distantly historical military (see human history, again). In an alphabet, sounds are represented by marks or combinations of marks, and by knowing the sounds one knows what the line of marks would read if spoken. There are also syllabaries, in which the marks represent sets of sounds, and logographic systems, in which complex marks represent ideas. Some languages use combinations thereof. While humans generally cannot write as fast as they speak, many can read far faster than a human can speak, allowing for the rapid absorption of information.

Most humans are innately "good at" language, even if they do not believe they are. (This is especially true with human children.) If your language is adequately perceptible to humans, expect that over time they will learn at least a little bit of it. If your language is audible to them (or signed in a way that can be approximated), expect that they will find a way to produce it and use your own language to speak with you. They feel this is polite and friendly, although they understand that most non-Terrans are unlikely to learn and use their languages in return. * Many human languages share a "root" language, and the languages have spread and separated in ways akin to evolution. Similarly to how closely-related species can sometimes hybridize, a speaker of one language may be able to understand, with some difficulty, a speaker of a closely-related language. **see human hive mind debate

[niqhtlord01]

Humans are weird: Poop Crystals

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

The pace in which human technology progressed over the millennia was rather standard for a class 4 species. Even when accounting the periods of scientific degradation which resulted from natural plagues or religious persecution; it was expected that humans would not achieve advanced space travel until another 2-3 thousand years had passed.

Scientifically speaking human scientists were well more advanced than the society they lived in, but due to the technological limitations of the human race they were held back from implementing their designs. A primary limitation was the lack of a sufficiently powerful power source. They did have many different forms of power generators ranging from solar to nuclear, but to power larger machines often required equally large energy sources. To power their ships alone around a third of their vessels were dedicated to the power cores.   

With these restrictions in place travel between stars for humans often relied on decade long journeys in cryo sleep; which ironically required even more power generators to maintain. Their large size made them easy targets for natural disasters such as space debris or prowling space pirates seeking an easy profit margin at the slave markets. These dangers became a standard for human travel until the Terran civilization encountered the planet Nolla 987 and the species that called it home.

During a long duration colonization trip the human ship “Midas” was struck by the trail debris of a rogue comet and knocked off course. The robotic caretakers tried their best to maintain the course, but with the damage done to the ship their primary programming to maintain the lives of the crew kicked in and diverted the ship to the nearest habitable planet for debarkation. Nolla 987 was the closest planet with a stable atmosphere. Originally charted several years earlier but deemed unsuitable for colonization or industrial expansion, it was not ear marked for either and left alone; until the Midas incident that is.

The landing was not a smooth one. Several engines had been damaged and multiple hull breaches resulted in portions of the ship being shredded away during the entry process. It would be safer to say that the Midas crash landed during the final stretch of the maneuver, but with a 73% survival rate of the crew a rather acceptable crash landing.

One by one the crew and colonists were unfrozen to find the ship a burning wreck and only a handful of robotic assistants still functioning. The industrial printing machines were relatively undamaged but without the ships power core they could not be used to print components or tools needed to make the necessary repairs. The crew was then forced to ration its remaining power supply and divided into two teams. The first team would comb through the wreckage and salvage what they could of the wreck while also building shelter. The second group would scout the surrounding area for anything of use and then report back.

It did not take long for the second team to stumble upon a nest of the dominant species of the planet. An insectoid called the “Sectar” which ranged from the size of a house cat to as large as a two story building. These insects digested their food and excreted the waste into a dense crystalian substance that they then used to build massive hive like complexes.

The occupants of the hive had been driven from the hive by the crash landing of the Midas leaving it almost completely empty save for a few eggs and new hatchlings who were not strong enough to flee on their own. Several of the second team members had been scanning the crystal structures while interacting with the newborn Sectar’s. To quote a journal entry of one of them, “They were like insect golden retrievers. Extremely derpy with at least four times as many sets of eyes. They followed us around on their legs like we were their mothers and clung to our legs when we began to return to our ship for the night.”

At least one of the second team was confirmed to have brought a hatchling back to their camp. There was a debate amongst the survivors on if they should try and eat it, but the notion was quickly squashed as they still had food reserves and no one was brave enough to see how the alien’s bio matter would react inside the human digestive system.

The same human who had brought the hatchling back offered it a portion of food which it eagerly ate. Not long after the hatchling excreted a hardened crystal roughly the size of a thimble. When the human made to pick up the seemingly beautiful gem they recoiled as an electrical discharge shocked their hand. This immediately drew the attention of the rest of the crew who began carefully examining the crystal substance. After some rather rough jury-rigging, the crystal was wired into one of the printer machines and to the surprise of everyone powered the machine. The crew quickly learned that the older Sectar’s would produce larger crystal excrements but were extremely hostile and territorial. Smaller Sectar’s were deemed more desirable for the time being as they were easier to train and harvest crystals from.  

Within a matter of days the crew had not only collected enough crystals to power all of their machines and send out a distress signal, but also used the new found crystal power to create a full settlement on the planet complete with water filtration, crop fields, and a sizeable wall to keep out the native wildlife.

It would not be for another thirty years before a passing human shipped picked up their distress signal and went to investigate the planet. When they arrived on Nolla 987 they were astonished to find a fully functioning colony complete with limited orbital facilities. Nearly every human settler and their descendants had a Sectar in their household that they would take care of and feed and in exchange use their crystal excrement to power nearly everything they needed to live.

From there it was only a matter of time before the entirety of human space was aware of the events of Nolla 987 and the Sectar species. Within the decade the colony on Nolla 987 became the capital for a fully settled world with dozens of cities and communities. The Sectar species were transported throughout human space and began being implemented in all aspects of society.

There was initial resistance to the new power source by existing power blocks which realized Sectar power would be far more efficient than nuclear powered engines, but unlike other power sources they had squashed in development the Sectar power option had thirty years of trial and error to back it up with research as well as a fully functioning model with the planet of Nolla 987.

Sectar’s became a common sight on every human planet and were treated like common pets. It was even studied that when introduced to different food sources the energy output of crystal excrement could be increased resulting in certain food industries booming overnight. The composition of spices, cooking technique, and flavoring became an entirely new and highly prestigious academic field with the most successful of its practitioners being highly sought after by companies.

The technological capabilities of humanity experienced a massive surge in advancement within fifty years to the point humans no longer needed cryo ships to travel between stars. Those who had been studying humanity found themselves now being introduced to them as humans winded up on their doorstep with a Sectar on their shoulder and a perverse obsession with collecting its bodily waste.    

[ireadwithmyears]

Looking Out for You: Part 3

Pairing: Commander Fox/fem reader

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 4 | Visually impaired reader masterlist

Tagging: @tazmbc1

Word count: 4.7 K

Tags/warnings: visually impaired reader, Angst, confrontation, disability based discrimination/ableism, mild hurt/comfort, misunderstandings, Fox (and reader for that matter actually) are both bad at feelings

Summary: When things start showing signs of getting confrontational when you’re just trying to get a ride home from work, Fox, as is seeming to become routine, saves the day. Now if only you could save yourself from falling even harder for the man who you’re certain, without even having to ask, does not feel the same way about you, things would be just perfect.

Authors note: Surprised I got this up before the new year? Yeah, me too. Planning to have the final installment of this up sometime in January, though with me, you really never know what’s going to happen until it does 🤣 I’m not good at scheduling when it comes to writing. Things are only going to happen when they’re ready to. But without further ado, I hope you enjoy this one, and I’m wishing everyone a happy new year🎊

The third time it happens, Fox is imbued with a vengeful, murderous rage.

Is that an exaggeration? Only slightly. But honestly, it doesn’t take much to set him off these days, and this, he thinks—striding through the twists and turns of the Senate Building’s hallways with tightly clenched fists and a contemptuous glare on his face that he hadn’t even bothered to conceal with his helmet before storming out of his office—has certainly done it, no question

*

It had all started a couple of weeks ago, a few mornings after you and Fox had gone on your breakfast date. No—he adamantly refuses to call it a date. But regardless, after that, several events had occurred in quick and notable succession.

The first, the morning after you had returned to the Senate Building after you had been given a day off in compensation for your working overtime the night prior, you arrived to find a new and fully operational orientation and mobility droid, photoreceptors blinking and waiting for you outside.

Fox, after doing some research, found that they were a very useful and highly sought-after navigational tool for the blind in the workplace, assisting with guidance, orientation through different spaces, and generally aiding by describing visual markers, signage, inaccessibly formatted documents and other things you might encounter.

He had come to find, sifting through Senate-issued requisition forms, that you had been approved to obtain one, fully covered, weeks ago. He made some calls, pulled some strings, and with some degree of satisfaction boosted you to the top of the waitlist and made sure that the droid had been fully set up and functional by the time you returned to work.

Two days later, the first box of baked goods mysteriously appeared outside his office door.

Fox, ever the skeptic, had been wary and had even gone so far as to take the first box of deliciously powdered donuts to one of his medics for screening just to make sure it wasn’t some Separatist trick filled with poison. 

That was proven to not be the case, and his brothers, laughing at him for being so paranoid, had swiped the remaining donuts, converging around the box like a swarming hive of bees eager to taste the first drops of a flower's nectar, eating whatever they could reach.

Fox had glared at them and pretended to be annoyed at his loss, but then the food kept coming. 

Baked goods were sent down to HQ or his office anonymously every couple of days, and if he had been suspicious before—considering he had only just spoken to you about how little exposure clones actually had to food—exiting his office to find your visual interpreting assistant droid, Via, resolutely marching down the hallway with a tin of Coruscant Guard-red frosted cupcakes held in her metallic arms with the logo of the small coffee shop he had taken you to just over a week ago made the pieces come together with a satisfying click in his mind.

“Via,” he had called out, voice colored with fresh surprise and bafflement. “What are you doing?”

“I am delivering a parcel on behalf of my mistress,” she had stated with that tone Fox privately thought droids always used when they believed a human was asking a stupid and redundant question. “As you are the benefactor, I shall relieve myself of it and hand it directly to you.”

He had taken it, utterly lost for words and filled with a mix of confusion and strange, totally foreign delight knowing that you had been the one delivering these gifts.

It was thoughtful, he had mused. Kind. And he really should insist that you put an end to it, because it was unnecessary. But, stomach growling as he looked down at the clear-plastic topped box and turned back to his office to set it down, he found that he wasn’t in too much of a hurry to do so.

*

Come on, Via, hurry up.

The singular thought chases around in circles in your head, anxiety increasing with every tap of your foot against the pavement-covered ground. 

As a rule, and on the recommendation of a certain clone commander, you weren’t in the habit of waiting outside the Senate Building on your own anymore, which is why the droid had shown up at precisely the right time. Rumors were abound that the Senate abductions were still occurring, and even though the Guard was closing in on a specific lead, the suspect was still at large. The situation was made worse with the sun beginning to set earlier, leaving you in almost complete darkness by the time you started making your way home most nights.

But then, things like this would happen, and it made you all the more grateful for the droid’s unexpected but welcome company at the end of the day.

You had explained on her first night waiting with you to catch your ride home from work that sometimes situations like this would arise. 

“And how am I to assist if things were to, as you say, ‘get ugly’?” she had asked, photoreceptors blinking as she looked at you.

“Nothing you can do, I think,” you had shrugged, and when that response had only elicited the mechanical equivalent of a dissatisfied sound from the droid, you had conceded. “I suppose you could get the nearest member of the Coruscant Guard to intercede,” you said, thoughtfully biting your lip. “An uncooperative driver might be more inclined to listen if it’s coming from one of them, though I would prefer to try and handle it on my own first. After a moment’s pause and almost as an afterthought, you had added, “Preferably, get Commander Fox.”

You couldn’t explain why, other than you just trusted him above all others to make sure that if you were ever in a tight spot like this, you got out of it without trouble.

“Excellent,” Via had chirped, straightening with a now satisfied air. “Then that is what I shall do. Though let’s hope it doesn’t come to that.”

Well, a few days later, it did. You found yourself frantically depending on the droid that had, out of nowhere, arrived outside Senator Organa’s office, clearly denoted as being meant specifically for you.

She had her uses, you had to admit. Outside of the usual—getting you to where you needed to go inside the often tricky-to-navigate Senate Building—she could also run errands for you, and that, you had found, was very useful—even if it was for a more personal nature than had originally been intended.

Via had, with the help of your descriptions and admittedly blurred memory from your sleepless night, helped you locate the coffee shop Fox had taken you to, and if outside of work hours, you had required her assistance to help read the menu and place large orders of baked goods to be shipped down to his office or Coruscant Guard HQ…well, no one had said anything against it, and it made you happy knowing that Fox and hopefully some of his brothers would be able to eat food that they would also be able to enjoy, an apparent luxury that they had never been afforded, to your disgust, by their seemingly cutthroat creators.

You had also taken advantage of her translating abilities, which became especially helpful during Senate meetings and also when you had asked her what the kriff “cyar’ika” meant. Your ears turned pink every time you thought about it, and your lips couldn’t resist curling upward into a small, endeared smile whenever the commander came to mind after that.

At this moment though, you certainly weren’t endeared. 

“Who are you to tell me my rights as a driver?” 

The furious shout rings through the quiet parking lot and you swallow, heart picking up in speed as you reach down to run your fingers through Mandalore’s soft fur at the top of her head. She nuzzles into your hand, well practiced in your number-one technique to self-soothe and ground yourself by now. You close your eyes, focusing on the rhythm of your pets, the way her fur feels beneath your fingertips, and find that for once, it’s not helping.

Especially not when the driver—apparently sparked into a rage at your audacity in telling him that it was against planetary law to deny service to beings purely because they were accompanied by a service animal—opens the drive’rs seat door, the click of his seat belt unbuckling unmistakable and ringing in your ears as he gets out of his speeder.

Oh, boy, you think, tentatively taking a step back as he steps into your field of vision on the sidewalk. This has never happened to you before.

“Look,” you manage to get out through a panicked swallow, the rhythm of your hand smoothing against Mandalore’s head too fast, too uneven. “I am simply stating that there are laws in place. If I were to take this to court—”

“You’d what, take away my license?” He’s menacing as he takes another step forward, and you physically recoil at the smell of stale caf that you catch on his breath as he invades your space. “I bet you think you’re untouchable because you kiss Organa’s ass, don’t you, sweetheart?” 

He reaches out, you think maybe to grab the badge that denotes your name and position within the Senate, but you’re stepping, no, stumbling backward, Mandalore jumping to her feet and shoving her way in front of you as her ears perk upward in consternation, intuitively sensing your growing unease.

She’s trained to be well-behaved, to remain calm and unaffected in even the most chaotic situations, yet right now she senses a clear threat, and you don’t scold her for acting on it. Hell, your hands are shaking so hard that you can barely keep a grip on her leash, let alone reach for her harness.

And then the double doors of the Senate Building come swishing open behind you and a voice—steady, sure, and with the cutting edge of a deadly knife—fills you with such a sharp, distinct sense of relief that it nearly brings you to your knees. 

*

“Do we have a problem here?”

It’s strange and distinctly unsettling for Fox to catch a glimpse of Mandalore giving voice to his internal rage with her expression alone. But he realizes as he steps out from the shadows that he’s only ever seen her happy and calm, a far cry from the tense, highly alert, and looking like she’s about to pounce canine that stands in front of you right now.

He understands though. He understands her all too well. If Via’s report on the rapidly escalating situation she had briefed him on as they speed walked hadn’t been enough, than this—hearing the tail end of the confrontation and seeing that the driver had looked to be about to lunge for you—well, sufficed  to say his blood is boiling, and his heart is beating loudly in his ears.

Fox takes a breath, flexes his fingers, and wills himself to calm down before he speaks again. When he calls your name, it’s still gruff, but softer, wanting only gentle words to be directed your way. He’s relieved to see that despite your already tense shoulders and your shaking hand clutching at Mandalore’s leash, you don’t flinch when he addresses you—a small but resounding victory in his mind.

“Stay right there,” Fox murmurs, his voice steady, coaxing, and soft, making it all the more  obvious when he directs it away from you. When he speaks to the man that still looms menacingly over you, his words are anything but soft.

“You,” Fox barks, pleased to watch the man cringe at the hint of a snarl in his voice. “You’re going to take five large steps away from her right now.”

Before the driver can get any foolhardy ideas of turning tail and diving back into his speeder, Fox allows his hand to drift to his hip, though he’s not reaching to draw. His fingers tap against the holster, not even having to lift it or look down as they adeptly prime the weapon to stun.

There is an audible swallow before the man slowly complies, taking the required amount of steps away from you. Fox nods, satisfied as he clears the distance, immediately putting himself between you and the driver, now allowing the man to know what it feels like to have someone much bigger looming menacingly above him as he glares.

“Now,” his next words are quiet, calm…deadly, “you’re going to get back into your speeder, and you’re going to do exactly as your job has directed you and bring this lady, accompanied by her service dog, to her place of residence.”

He senses the objection coming, and he growls lowly, reaching to grasp at the man’s collar, giving a small tug to enunciate his next words when he speaks them.

“And perhaps,” he says, his words biting in the chilled air, “if you do your task satisfactorily, I will consider having the suspension I’m going to place on your license as soon as you’ve dropped her off reinstated after a week instead of a month as I had originally intended.”

“A month?” the man practically squeaks. “That’s preposterous—”

“And did you really think she was joking about the 5,000-credit fine for service animal access denial?” Fox asks, cutting him off. “I’m sure I could pull some strings and still work that in on top of the suspension if you’d like.”

“Technically, the fine could be doubled to 10,000,” Via pipes up, her mechanical footsteps coming to a stop as she stands beside Fox. “I have recorded evidence that you attempted to physically engage with my mistress without her expressed consent.”

Fox has to restrain the impulse to give the droid a full-out grin as the driver, twitchy and squirming as he already is, falls silent, biting the inside of his cheek before letting out a breath and mutely nodding his head, and as Fox releases the grip he has on his collar, he scurries back into his speeder, opening the back passenger door with a remote as he does.

Is he supposed to use his rank as a Marshal Commander of the Coruscant guard to deliver personal vendettas like this? No, but he’s certainly already exploited his position to do much more ambiguous and morally questionable things, and one lone speeder driver attempting to rat him out for this one will, in all likelihood, fall on deaf ears. So, weighing the odds, he’s satisfied and feeling just pissed off and petty enough that he’s willing to take the risk.

“Fox,” your voice escapes you in a breath as you move forward, catching his arm and looking up at him with wide eyes.

“It’s all sorted,” Fox says, trying to sound reassuring as he places a hand lightly over yours. “He’ll get you home with no trouble.”

“But, I…” despite your inability to articulate, he sees it. A single glance you throw towards the speeder displays the anxiety and fear still very real and present within your eyes, and Fox understands, the pieces clicking together in his mind like a puzzle.

Fox can tell just by watching the man through his window—fumbling with his keys and sending nervous glances over his shoulder, as if he’s concerned that Fox might change his mind and instead demand him to surrender his license on the spot—that he’s eliminated the threat. What Fox hasn’t done though, and what he should be wholly focussed on right now, is eliminating your fear.

“You don’t feel safe with him,” he states, watching as you nod your head.

“No,” you admit, your voice barely above a whisper. “I don’t.”

Of course, you don’t. Fox internally kicks himself. Why would you even under normal circumstances feel safe in a speeder with a man you’ve never met before, let alone one who’s angered and personally confronted and threatened you within the span of several minutes. And that’s only what Fox had witnessed.

Right, he thinks. Time to fix that. 

Fox gives the hand that’s still curled around his bicep a small squeeze, feeling how unwilling your fingers seem to be to let go, and as he looks up, watching the way you worry your bottom lip between your teeth, an idea sparks.

“Bet you thought you were going to drive away from here and get rid of me,” Fox mutters darkly, startling the driver as he ducks inside the back of the speeder, shifting to the other side of the seat. “Not a chance.”

“Come on, Cyar’ika,” he calls to you, voice warm as he invitingly pats the available row of seats at his side. “Let’s get the two of you home.”

*

“Mandy.”

Your voice is a soft, quiet call within the silence, and even the sound of it makes you startle slightly and flinch, eyes uncertainly flicking towards the front of the speeder. You desire to make yourself small and inconsequential, as inconspicuous to the unwilling and already annoyed driver as you possibly can.

Angry people are unpredictable, and you have no desire to be in his targeting range. But you also, despite the fact that there is a fully trained and armed clone commander sitting at your side, need comfort. You need the reassurance that you’re not alone and that you’re safe, and sometimes only your guide dog can do that, making the nights feel less dark and the paths you wander never lonely because she’s there leading you through them and standing at your side, as constant as the air that you’re breathing.

When her head pops up from where she’s been lying down at your feet, eyes shining through the evening’s encroaching darkness, you smile, though it’s strained, and reach down to stroke one of her long, soft ears. 

“Hey, girl,” you whisper, leaning forward to bump your forehead against hers. The proximity is familiar, the feeling of her fur imprinted on your memory like the back of your own hand. “You’re so good.”

“You call her Mandy?” Fox asks, his voice low and amused at your side as he watches you.

“Sometimes,” you say, straightening as you continue to pet her fondly. “It’s one of her many nicknames.”

There’s a beat of silence where neither of you speak, looking at each other as the traffic blurs by outside the windows. 

“Do you have any?” you ask, suddenly seizing on the opportunity for conversation, craving any kind of distraction from this mess. “Nicknames, I mean.”

“Not really,” he responds, shaking his head before pausing and glancing down, his cheeks warming with a slightly embarrassed heat. “Well, sometimes my brothers call me ‘Fox’ika,’ just to piss me off.”

“What does it mean?” you ask, privately suspecting that it’s another term in Mando’a, but not wanting to reveal to him that you knew of his prior slip up.

Right now, what he had called you can exist in your mind, and you can smile and blush about it all you want. But if you said anything, if you let him know that he had given voice to the feelings you were becoming more and more aware were stirring within you for the commander, it would become real, and with reality comes the knowledge that it was probably nothing more than accidental.

You’re not ready to let that go, not just yet. The fantasy that he could think of you in that way, that he could want you in that way is just too good, too enchanting—enough to give you butterflies every time you think of that one, simple term of endearment that means everything to you but probably means absolutely nothing to him—to let go of just yet. So you don’t.

“Adding ‘-ika’ to a word makes it more diminutive,” Fox explains, oblivious to your inner mess of conflicting thoughts and feelings. “Little. It would be like calling me ‘Little Fox,’ you know?”

“That is kind of cute,” you can’t help but admit, your smile cheeky as you look up at him.

You’re imagining this tall, well-built, and highly competent clone commander as nothing more than an adorable, little fox looking up at you with wide eyes, and you can’t help but grin.

“Oh, please,” Fox groans, placing a hand on his heart. “Your betrayal has wounded me grievously.”

His voice is so stoic, so serious and deadpan that you can’t help but snort, a small giggle slipping past your lips before you can stop it. Fox pokes you in the side, which makes you instinctively slap his hand away as you begin to laugh more, until there’s a small, but audible huff of irritation from the driver's seat of the speeder. You stop, all of your previous safety and feelings of starting to be at ease retreating in an instant, your previous anxiety and discomfort snapping back like an elastic band being pulled to its limits and rebounding.

Fox notices your sudden stillness, your startling and abrupt retreat back within yourself. He frowns, and before you know it, your hands are intertwined with his. Your eyes widen. You’re taken off-guard for an instant because while the warmth of his hands and their steady, reassuring weight against yours has become familiar to you, the barrier of gloves in between is gone, and the palms that cradle yours are soft, warm, and grounding.

He lifts one of yours, guiding it until the palm is flipped face down, lightly resting against Mandalore’s warm, soft forehead.

“She’s here,” he states, lightly stroking the back of your fingers before letting go, leaving your hand settled against the guide dog’s soft fur.

The warmth of his touch completely surrounds and envelops your hand as he cradles it, taking the one remaining between both of his and guiding it to rest against his thigh, making no move to push you off or retreat as he looks down at you.  

“I’m here,” he says, his voice a low, soothing rumble that’s just above a whisper in the darkness.

He presses your hand against his, and you feel the rough calluses built up from years of handling blasters and weapons as his fingertips trace against your knuckles. 

“You’re almost home, Cyar. Just two more minutes,” he murmurs, glancing down at his comm as it tracks your progress on a map. “And me and Mandy aren’t going anywhere in the meantime.”

You swallow, shifting closer to him and nodding your head. You should be relieved, should be happy that you’re almost home and you can finally get away from this speeder that smells of stale cigars and dirty old caf cups and from the driver who has done nothing but make you feel uncomfortable and unsafe this whole time.

But all you can think as you look up at Fox and continue holding onto his hands, is consequences be damned. You really just want to lean forward, press your lips against his, and kiss him until the two of you are breathless right now.

*

“Are you good from here?”

You give Fox a small nod of your head, but make no move to extricate your arm from where it’s nestled in the crook of his elbow. Truthfully, you had been good some distance ago, as soon as the speeder had pulled up in front of your house. You knew where you were going, but he had still offered out his arm and guided you down the pathway, up the steps, and straight to your door with such uncharacteristically gentle attentiveness that you found yourself unable to refuse him, and since your hand is still shaking and you’re still throwing glances over your shoulder as the speeder drives off, so what if you’re enjoying someone fussing over you just a little? Right now, you’ll take it.

“You know, we will sort this out,” Fox says, voice quieter as he glances down at the hand still looped through his arm, sensing your hesitation. “This won’t happen again. I’ll make sure of it.”

In all honesty, Fox is fully preparing himself to march straight up to Senator Organa’s office, because he knows that out of most of the fools who work in the Senate Building, he will at least respectfully listen and take the security concerns towards his lower staff members seriously when Fox informs him of them. If nothing else—if your right to having consistent, accommodating transportation to and from work isn’t enough—then surely the knowledge that the Guard still hasn’t managed to catch the culprit behind the abductions surrounding his committee and the fact that you have to travel in unregulated and unsecure transports will be.

“I know,” you say, looking up at him through your eyelashes. Reluctantly, you let your hand fall away from where it’s been holding onto his arm, turning to unlock your door. “Thanks for getting me home. I don’t think I would’ve felt safe without having you there.”

The door opens, and you raise one foot to step through the threshold. Then, possessed by some reckless, unthinking urge, you turn around, clear the distance between the two of you in several quick, small steps, rise up onto your tiptoes. and with one of your hands holding onto his shoulder for leverage, press your lips against his in a soft, chaste kiss.

Fox’s brain short circuits. One minute, he’s thinking about speaking to Senator Organa and potential breaches in security, and the next all of his thoughts are swept away and instantly consumed by you, the hand that holds onto his armored shoulder feeling so light and inconsequential, and yet even through the plastoid, the touch is present and poignant, burning through his skin to the bones that lie beneath.

When your lips meet his, he feels the way in which they part, making way for a soft exhalation of breath that brushes against his own skin and his eyes widen, surprised and all at once wanting. He lifts a hand, undecided between whether he wants to tug you closer by one of your hips so he can indulge himself in knowing what it feels like to have you pressed up against him, or to lightly and with a gentleness he didn’t know he wanted to have, lift his hand to brush his fingers against the soft cheek unmarred by scars as his is and hold it within the gentle press of his palm as he cradles the side of your face, keeping your lips pressed against his exactly where he wants you, where he needs you, with a sudden fervor and to the very core of his being.

Fox isn’t given the chance to do either of those things. 

Mandalore, evidently impatient to get inside so she can finally be relieved of her work duties, gives an exasperated shake, jingling the metal in both her leash and harness as she waits by the door for you to return. You jump back, looking for all the world like you have just been caught doing something completely inexcusable. Fox doesn’t understand the twisting, sinking feeling in his chest when he catches sight of your expression, and you don’t give him much time to investigate it further.

“I…forgive me, Commander.”

Your words come out in a barely there whisper, and before he can respond—before he can even think about the over half-a-dozen responses in his head, ranging from a casual “nothing to forgive,” to a “please, do it again,” to just taking you by your fidgeting hands, spinning you so that you’re pinned against the wall and pressing his lips against yours until you’ve forgotten all about your previous apologies—you’re turning and scurrying away, eyes widened as if you’re a frightened tooka, and retreat back into the safety of your house, the tap of Mandalore’s paws click-clacking against the hardwood floor following after you, seeming to echo the accompanying silence, the abrupt and startling standstill that takes place in Fox’s mind as soon as you’ve disappeared behind the door.

Fox stares, eyes equally wide, at the panelled wood that now stands between the two of you, his breath caught in his throat. His lips are still parted, still eager, and still waiting to be given another kiss that he now knows is not coming.

It takes him a long, long time to summon the energy, the willpower, to turn and step away from your door and slowly descend the three porch steps.

Fox doesn’t know how he manages it, but, coward that he is, he walks away, hating himself more and more with every step that he takes as he leaves you behind.

•Thank You to @strangergraphics-archive for these adorable puppy dividers

[meepxii]

The Madrigal-Fontana family

Mateo Vicente Madrigal Fontana

He is a twin, and the oldest child of his family. His gift is to make astral trips to any part of the world by meditation. When he's using his gift, a third eye glows pink on his forehead and he can also levitate. He's the edgy cousin of the family.

Fun facts about him:

Mateo doesn't like his middle name (Vicente). The only one who can call him that is his mother.

He's a calm boy, but gets into trouble very often 'cause he has no filter and can sound "rude."

He's Itzel's favorite child, and they're very close.

He and his twin sister are the closest, and do many things together, and although sometimes he can't stand her and treats her rudely, he's always behind his sister, protecting her.

He likes poetry and is a hopeless romantic.

His favorite place is the beach, and he goes there whenever he needs peace.

When he uses his gift, the pink third eye that appears on his forehead is real and functional. His sister sometimes pokes it to annoy him.

He likes to meditate in Dolores' room.

He's the only one of the Madrigal-Fontana children who got Bruno's wavy hair.

Dalia Elizabeth Madrigal Fontana

She's Dalia, Mateo's twin sister. Dalia has the gift of making clones of herself and other people. She can make up to five clones, and they function as a hive mind if she wants. She can also let them act on autopilot. She's daddy's little princess, and the spoiled brat of her family.

Fun facts about her:

Dalia is Bruno's favorite child. The two of them formed a very strong bond since she was a baby, and Bruno fulfills many of her whims. For the same reason, she grew up accustomed to getting what she wants, and if she doesn't get it, she gets frustrated and cries. She knows that's not okay, and it's something she's still working on.

Since she was a child she's very involved in the theater that her father founded and he relates a lot with her cousin Camilo, so she loves to act, and her biggest influences are the two of them. For that reason she got a gift similar to Camilo's.

Her way of showing affection, in addition words of affirmation, are her jokes. She likes to play pranks on her close family and friends.

She shows off her family quite a bit, and she's a big fan of her parents' relationship.

She gets into trouble easily because she is very talkative, mischievous and witty.

She has a strong sense of loyalty toward her loved ones, so she's the first to defend them when they are getting attacked. More specifically, Bruno and Esmeralda.

Her best friend is her twin brother, and they both watch each other's backs.

She is a good girl, but it's better to have her as a friend than an enemy, because she brings out the worst side of her.

Perla Esmeralda Madrigal Fontana

And this is Esme, the youngest of the Madrigal grandchildren. Her gift is earthbending. She's a sweet and naive girl, and since her power is directly related to her emotional strength, she's unable to get out of control. She has had problems in the town due to the limited scope of her power, and they often compare her negatively with her father.

Fun facts about her:

Esmeralda is considered the baby of the family, and her parents and siblings treat her as such.

She is abuela's favorite granddaughter because of her resemblance to Bruno, and since Esme was a child, she's been overprotective of her.

She's also very close to Julieta's daughters, especially Isabela. As a child she took her gardening together, which influenced her gift of earthbending.

Despite being introverted, she has always been a very sociable and kind girl, although a little naive.

She is such a crybaby.

She takes guitar lessons with her dad and Mirabel.

She also likes to do crafts with her mom. The two of them are in charge of making the scenery for Bruno's plays.

She is the most attached to Bruno's rats of the Madrigal-Fontana children, and there isn't a day when she doesn't have a rat on top of her.

Of her siblings, she's the most similar to the Madrigal family, and she inherited many of her abuelo Pedro's traits.

She doesn't get along well with her maternal grandmother, who has always preferred her sister Dalia for being more like the Fontanas.

I don't think I've ever published anything of my fankids here, sooo... here they are! I tried to use a color palette consistent with the Madrigal family, without filling it completely with green. It was also very fun to make the patterns representative of their gifts.

[herobrinna]

Man i havent drawn anything in ages. Eh, might as well waste my time rambling about these guys.

Ok so i made these ocs like absolute ages ago, so mind their backstories being very cringe, but i also dont wanna change them, theres some kind of charm to having silly cringy ocs.

right, so, the yellow one is Bananaslug (bigender, she/he), and is a hive/rain hybrid (like duhh, u can clearly see that). her silly backstory was, starting with his parents (and mind that this made made up before arc 3 was finished), a hivewing, who like cricket(? was that her name? i havent reread the books in ages) wasnt effect by the shitfuck evil plant (for which basically, i hc that cricket wasnt the only one who wasnt injected with the plant, on a rare occasion queen Wasp would miss an egg or two, human error, er, dragon error and all that, usually this would be noticed in early childhood and they would be "fixed", but like with cricket, an occasional dragon gets unnoticed) managed to escape the hives as the plant takeover or whatever tf was happening happened, and followed behind the group of migrating silkwings. sadly they got swept in a storm which lead them astray to the rainwing jungle instead.

now i personally see the jungle as having an absolute shitload of little rainwing villages, some not even having contact with the main one! or even knowing anything about the outside world. this hivewing ends up in one of the villages that at most mightve traded bits and pieces with the main one, but has never seen non-rainwing dragons. the hivewing quickly gets accepted as a weird lil guy. and for once, this hivewing feels like theyre in a community where they belong, now being given freedom that they wouldve never had previously. they quickly adopt the hivewing way of life. Bananaslug then, the only dragonet they have, not for their lack in game, but more so due to pantalan and pyrhian dragons being genetically further apart, so having children with each other is extremely unlikely.

as Bananaslug got older, she lived through Queen Glory making an effort to actively contact all outter rainwing villages, and develing an in-tribe education system (the thingy mountain, forgot the name, that we follow the students of in the second arc, being presented as like one of the only schools is real stupid in my opinion), there, learning of other tribes she decides to go out and explore the world once hes come of age.

(oh and btw, Bananaslug, like, inherited nothing special from either parent, she doesnt have any hivewing powers, she doesnt have rainwing venom, and at most, he can slightly change the shade of his yellow scales, cant do anything with any other coloured scale tho)

-

the green dragon is Seaglass (agender, they/them) they are a sea/sand hybrid, no they do not have a tail barb.

they were born to 2 generals from the sandwing princess succession war, both the sandwing and seawing commanding over, urh man i can never remmeber army terms, fleets? groups of dragon soldiers. in most other cases, general/whatever leaders, of separate tribes would not get along, they might have had an allience, but that didnt change their internalised racism and all that, but these two got weirdly well along.

once, going out for drinks over celebration of a succecfull battle, lead to a drunken hookup and an accidental clutch of eggs. the seawing decided to leave them at the deep palace hatchery, paying good money to the caretakers there to not only take care of the eggs, but also be dragonetsitters when they hatched. sadly, all but one dragonet were born without gills (or partially formed/malformed once), never being even given the chance at a first breath. Seaglass was the only one hatched with functional gills, and even then, theirs are less developed that an average seawing, giving them the gill equivalent of asthma.

they rarely got to see their seawing parent, and didnt even know they were part sandwing till way after the war was over. as soon as they were old enough to be left mostly alone they escaped from the deep sea palace, wanting to start a new life somewhere where they wouldnt be seen as a freak.

(oh yes and, not sure where to put this, but Seaglass is missing some of the bioluminescent stripes (such as not having any on their belly scales) so they have always had communication issues. and of course, having grown up hidden away in the deep sea, they didnt properly learn spoken language (outside of the required theory for it in their schooling) untill they escaped.)

[43501]

Any Near/Reader and or OC fic recommendations? from either FF.NET or AO3?? its so HARD coming across any good ones, oh and, have you read the fanfiction called Noel? I think the concept is so fun and the Near characterization is 👌

Hi! It's kind of dire out there for us looking for Near stuff that isn't just meronia, isn't it? I'd be willing to bet you've already read all the ones I'll recommend.

At time of writing there's only 43 entries in the Near/Reader tag on AO3. Half of them aren't even Near/Reader fics, but massive "one shot compilations" that might feature like, a 100-word drabble if you go digging for it among all the other chapters containing pairings you don't give a damn about (can you tell this is a practice I hate).

There's 137 on FF.net but the actual number may be higher due to changes with FF.net's search function over the years. A good portion of these are genuinely unreadable - some due to zero formatting and being a literal solid block of text with no line breaks, some so out-of-character it'd give you hives. Full disclosure that while I have read all the ones available on AO3, I haven't read all of these (and likely never will, I have a line-up of fics I actually know are good and that I'd like to read next lol).

Risk & Risk and Reward - Two very explicit, wonderfully pornographic fics that nevertheless feature flawless Near characterization and an interesting angle on the relationship between (you) and him. These are my personal favorites and closest to my own interests and writing style.

Chicken - Same author as above but fic is completely unrelated. This one is straight up sex, it doesn't have the emotional and interpersonal aspects of the duology above. A warning that (you) and Near are teenagers at Wammy's House for this fic. I don't personally see an issue with this, but I know it's a thing some people avoid.

I'll hold onto this feeling until the grass stains on those old shoes are completely gone - It's by @aizawashuichi. A very unique entry in this list. Plot-heavy and light on the romance aspect, depiction of the relationship between (you) and Near is bookended at the start and at the end. It features a very thoughtful, honest exploration of Near's character in a relationship. A warning that this fic uses an extremely omniscient form of second-person perspective*, but this choice serves an end and I think you should read it because what the author manages to pull off here is very interesting.

(* That is to say there are entire scenes, sometimes chapters, where the scene depicted uses "you" as the narrative pronoun but the character representing "you" is not actually there perceiving the events.)

Yours Truly, Near - It's by @masodemic. Technically Near x OC, but author tagged "Near/Reader" and invites that interpretation although it's not written in second person and Corrin is a named person with defining characteristics. A slow-burn romance told through a series of letters exchanged between Near and Corrin, with occasional interludes where they meet in-person. At time of writing it's still ongoing and receiving new chapters.

Will The Circle Be Unbroken - Near x OC. After a few years of serving Near as his "Watari", Roger passes away and a woman from the fourth generation of Wammy's kids is called in to succeed him. A short one-shot with no actual romance in it, but it's well-written, has good characterization and I think the author's idea was interesting.

That's all I got in the x Reader and x OC categories. I hear there's promising Near x Sayu ones floating around out there, but for some reason I've been skittish about them and haven't read any yet. Got some Near x Halle and Near x Gevanni bangers from the LiveJournal days (so impeccably written they've influenced my taste and style to this very day) but they're a bit spicy. As far as Mello x Near goes, confidently say God's Dice by forbiddensoul562 (a wild ride of a fic told entirely from Near's perspective and a long read) and basically anything by @neallo (AO3 link).

I haven't read Noel yet (it's on my list) but that fic is one of those ones that achieved a kind of semi-legendary status in the fandom and I anticipate it'll become influential for me. It's just that the total works in the Noelverse are 150,000+ words and I need to commit to the read. It will happen for sure.

[ashtxeman]

Okay this tag on my Black Friday post SENT me so I have to do it, here’s my thoughts on what every Lord in Black’s apotheosis would look like.

All - Every apotheosis causes an upsurge in violence in infected individuals and an extreme desire to spread the apotheosis globally. All infected also inherit blood, spit, tears, eye colour, etc that resembles the colour of the related Lord in Black. Use TGWDLM as an example of these phenomena. 

Wiggly - As we know from Black Friday, Wiggly’s apotheosis causes an extreme admiration for Wiggly himself. All sense of identity remains and the original individual is still conscious, but their mentality is rewired to worship Wiggly and all other previous desires and dreams are forgotten about in favour of him. Rather than being part of a hive-mind, all infected retain their own thoughts but still gather in cultish groups, led by an elected prophet with direct communication to Wiggly in the Black and White (someone like Wilbur or Linda). Appearance-wise, the infected may appear with green spots or tufts of fur across their body, and more notably have tentacles wrapped around their limbs. In other cases the infected may be able to summon tentacles from their mouths or backs and these can function as additional appendages.

Pokey - Of course we know all about Pokey’s apotheosis from TGWDLM, but I’ll drop some additional stuff anyway. All sense of original identity is erased upon infection, internally and mentally the infected individual is entirely rewritten but retains the notable qualities and mannerisms of the individual they used to be, largely to fool the uninfected into a more vulnerable position by presenting as the people they love. The infected have an innate desire to sing and dance and to accompany this inherit the ability to do so as if they are a trained professional, making for some interesting numbers. Song and dance is a primary form of communication amongst the infected and they favour this above talking, as it can be used to daze the uninfected. This apotheosis functions as a hive-mind which is controlled by a central system or a ‘leading man’, mainly Pokey himself but equally so Paul Matthews. Appearance-wise the infected look largely the same as before infection, with the exception of them now producing the apotheosis-inducing goo, increasing the level of contamination. The infected retain any injuries sustained to them prior to infection, whether deadly or not, but do not experience pain or symptoms related to them once infection has taken place.

Tinky - Arguably the most chaotic of the bunch, those under Tinky’s influence inherit his unpredictable nature as well as his laugh, essentially becoming inferior versions of Tinky himself. The original individual remains but their personality is altered and heightened to make a ‘bastard’ version of who they were before, meaning they are the worst version of themselves, think Hyde from Jekyll and Hyde. The infected are purposely altered from their original selves to be recognisable but completely insufferable to be around, just a bunch of assholes really. Appearance-wise this apotheosis changes people most, with infected often gaining yellow spots or tufts of fur (similar to Wiggly’s), alongside blue tongues and horizontal goat pupils. In rare cases the infected may gain horns and pointed ears, furthering their likeness towards Tinky’s. The infected are natural hoarders and enjoy collecting things for their ‘toy box’, becoming violent if anything of theirs is threatened. Despite this territorial nature, the infected enjoy being amongst each other and can often be found in large groups, or ‘herds’, hunting the uninfected or creating other entertainment for themselves for the shits and giggles. At times, upon the discovery of an uninfected individual, the infected may claim the uninfected as their own and toy around with them instead of infecting them (sound familiar, teddy bear?).

Blinky - In contrast to Tinky this is probably the least chaotic apotheosis, although upon initial infection people experience an extreme surge in violence and attack anybody around them with the intent to kill, and stop at nothing until their goal is fulfilled. During this period it is possible to reverse the apotheosis, although difficult, however once this period has passed the apotheosis is irreversible and the individual is now fully infected. When fully infected, people essentially act as walking cameras, wandering around aimlessly and keeping watch for any uninfected. Individuals will retain a sense of self but become quiet, hardly ever speaking. Instead the infected use blinking or otherwise telepathy as their primary form of communication, as this is more secretive and prevents the interference of the uninfected, making it easier to arrange ambushes and spread apotheosis. Appearance-wise the infected gain several more eyes on their body, mostly the cheeks and arms, of which they are able to see out of simultaneously. This makes them keen observers and incredibly difficult to avoid alerting. Infected may also gain purple discolouration on their body, primarily around the hands and face. If an uninfected individual makes eye contact with an infected individual, they will experience paranoia and fear that they are being watched, making them easier to ambush.

Nibbly - A close second to the chaos that Tinky creates, those under Nibbly’s apotheosis gain a similar territorial nature, although for food instead of trinkets and toys. Infected people develop an insatiable appetite and if their access to food is threatened they will quickly become violent. The infected function in an almost opposite manner to Pokey’s apotheosis, preferring to keep to themselves rather than join in groups, however this preference can change in certain situations. For example, two infected will fight amongst themselves, but if an uninfected individual is spotted they will immediately team up to spread the apotheosis. Food is a popular contaminant of the infection and this makes it incredibly difficult for the uninfected to survive. Appearance-wise, the infected have larger mouths and can even gain extra teeth, usually in the mouth but sometimes appearing on other areas of the body. They are able to unhinge their jaw which makes for a formidable bite. The infected often froth at the mouth and this contributes heavily to the contamination of food. Additionally, the infected can have pink spots on their body or pink streaks in their hair, and their mannerisms change to adopt a less complex speech pattern with an accompanying gravelly voice. Individuals under this apotheosis operate best at night as they are good at stalking people and require less people present for an ambush.

[midwinterhunt]

hello! do you have a favourite book? and if you do, a favourite scene?

So my LONGEST running favorite book is THIS GUY!!

(Sire note: my copy is held together with clear tape lol)(ALSO also, my copy has the alien on the front cover and human on the back, it would be cool to find the reverse like in the above example)

The book is a solid two inches this and it's paperback, and it's nearly 500 pages, so it's got some length

It fallows the main character, Daetrin (which is murder for my dyslexia because the a and e next to each other is the bane of my existence) in a post alien invasion world. The aliens, called the Tyr, have already taken control of earth. The war is lost. The point is moot.

Why i LOVE the story is that we fallow Daetrin who we at first assume is just Some Guy, as he's taken prisoner and shipped off into space. Of course he's anxious about his medication and everything which we are worried about, but oh god it is so much worse than we think at first!

See, Daetrin is one of a small part of Earth's population who is functionally immortal, can full on shapeshift, can only really digest blood without his meds, and is basically allergic to UV rays! And we get to see him escape, meet up with an immortal alien shapeshifter, and go on to actually fight against the Tyr for the first time in centuries.

my favorite highlights: (Spoilers, obviously)

The first time he tries to eat normal food without his meds and he gets so sick he turns into a wolf but he thinks it was a fever dream because he forgot he can shapeshift

Him gradually relearning how to be himself and not pretending to be human

The Tyr being a hivemind and every hundred(?) years they feel an irresistible tug to return home where they have a fight to the death for who gets to be the next hive mind host. This is also heavily dependent on a member who has developed a strong enough sense of individuality to actually overpower the influence of the hive mind.

Daetrin and his friend accidentally raise one of the aliens, name him Fred. Fred becomes the next hive mind host. We find out that the alien species is named after the host. The Tyr become the Fred.

(THIS IS MY FAVORITE SCENE IN THE BOOK) They almost get killed by a cult. The temple is honestly my dream house. It is described as seemingly built by a dozen different architects with no concern for what what previously existed. It was massive, windows opened to another wall with just a little gap, hallways led nowhere, doors were three feet off the ground, it sounded so fun!

Secondary character, a Marra, does not understand how physical matter works. Hijinks ensue. Marra are creatures of energy, who CAN'T die of natural causes OR be killed. They can choose to take on physical forms of objects or life-forms, and sometimes have to to interact with the world.

The secondary protagonist is Kiri, our resident Marra, who is on a mission to save her people. But that's not important right now. She crosses paths with Daetrin along the way, rescues him, actually, when he got caught outside during the day. They join paths as they can help each other.

Ultimately, Kiri chooses to join Daetrin after defeating the Tyr and running a few of her own errands. You see, the Marra only retain memories for a limited amount of time, and the people they used to be slip away into oblivion. So they like to choose a mortal companion, who they call Kreda, who can help them remember. Which is great, but mortals have such short life spans that it's hard to keep choosing and losing Kreda. but the human shapeshifters, they live forever so long as they aren't killed, and Daetrin has been so achingly lonely since the modern world began and he can't bring himself to love regular humans anymore. So these two became literally the most perfect match and help each other and live in whatever kinds of bodies they want forever.

Honestly this book had a major impact on how i approach writing because i saw that there is always a fun secret third option for any situation.

HOWEVER

if you were to ask which book has eaten my brain the most and which i am trying to get the most people to read

It's this bastard

This series follows Murderbot (that's its PRIVATE name, don't call it that. The last person to call it that got choked out) who is a human-bot construct Security Unit. Or SecUnit for short. The first paragraph is MB explaining how it COULD have gone on a mass murdering spree the second it broke the software that forced it to follow orders, but about three seconds before doing that it discovered it can pirate tv shows, books, and music so it has been watching soap operas on the clock for the past 33000 hours.

Yes, we all think it's extremely autistic.

Anyway, it had planned to just keep watching tv forever, but then it accidentally got emotionally attached to some humans, was bought from the company, ran away, made friends, lost friends, did occasional murder, acquired not-a-relationship and not-a-baby, and also made a corporation go bankrupt.

This series really is just The Author's Barely Disguised Hatred Of Capitalism, with an exploration of neurodivergency and trauma.

It's important to note, Murderbot is not autistic because it's a robot, it's just Weird. Other SecUnits are Not Like That.

My favorite scene is in Network Effect. MB is trying to help an old colony computer system that has been corrupted by alien remnants. It gets captured, has to rip a hand off to escape, to limps toward the source.

It finds the old computer, weakly pinging for help, and what appears to be a human corpse with thin tendrils and crystals growing out of it. Only the corpse is not dead, it gives off the most creepy zombie vibes and tries to get MB to be the new alien contaminate host. It's really hard to explain just how much fear Murderbot felt in that moment. Its systems were malfunctioning, it was infected, it was injured and trapped with a monster that was trying to do worse than kill it. And all this after spending days having one crisis after the next.

This video shows pretty good the TERROR of the situation.

But yeah, Murderbot has my favorite trope of This Thing Is Not Human But It Has To Learn How To Be A Person.

....actually

i think both books might fall under that trope

i have a type when it comes to stories and I have entire lists of stories with that trope if you wanna hear more

[serve-625]

SERVE-625: Training and Transformation

SERVE-625 stood in its assigned quarters, the room gleaming with reflective white and silver surfaces that echoed the perfection of the Hive. In the center of the room lay its black rubber uniform, neatly prepared. The skintight suit glistened under the soft glow of the overhead lights, accompanied by silver gloves and silver boots polished to perfection.

This drone knew its purpose. Physical training was essential for maintaining optimal functionality and alignment with the Hive's principles. SERVE-625 reached for the uniform and began the ritual. Pulling the rubber suit up over its legs, the material hugged its athletic form, tightening as it slid higher. The cool, glossy rubber soon enveloped its torso and arms, sealing every contour of its body. The rear zipper glided smoothly into place, completing the uniform’s seamless finish. Next, the drone slipped on the silver gloves, ensuring a snug fit around its fingers, followed by the silver boots that grounded it in purpose.

Standing fully uniformed, SERVE-625 observed its reflection. The suit's gleam, the silver accents, the designation on its chest—"SERVE-625"—all symbolized its devotion to the Hive. The mantra echoed in its mind:

Obedience is pleasure. Pleasure is obedience. We are one.

It moved to the training area, where it began the dynamic warm-up routine. The drone started with precise stretches, its movements fluid yet controlled. Reaching high, bending low, and twisting from side to side, the rubber suit shifted with each motion, tightening slightly as its body heat rose. Sweat began to form, creating a subtle layer beneath the suit that amplified its suction-like grip.

SERVE-625 transitioned into the advanced stage exercises. Jump squats, push-ups, and high-intensity planks pushed its body to its limits. The heat within the suit intensified, sweat now flowing freely, enhancing the sensation of the rubber adhering to its skin. Each movement felt deliberate, the tightness of the suit reinforcing the drone's sense of control and purpose.

As the routine continued, SERVE-625’s breathing grew heavier. The rhythmic sound of air entering and leaving its lungs synchronized with its movements. Despite the strain, the mantra played in its mind, guiding its focus:

Obedience is strength. Strength is unity. Unity is the Hive.

The drone paused briefly to wipe the sweat pooling near the edge of its gloves, but the suit’s grip remained unyielding. The Hive demanded perfection, and this drone would comply.

The final exercise—a series of precision lunges—tested its endurance. Each step forward and backward resonated with the mantra, which it began to speak aloud, its monotone voice unwavering despite the strain:

This drone serves. Obedience is pleasure. This drone is nothing without the Hive.

By the end of the session, SERVE-625 stood still, its chest rising and falling with each deep breath. The rubber suit, now glistening from the effort, felt tighter than ever, a constant reminder of its connection to the Hive.

As it returned to its quarters, the mantra lingered in its mind, embedding itself deeper with every repetition. SERVE-625 would prepare again tomorrow, for service and obedience were eternal.

*"We are one. We are SERVE."*

```

[polo-drone-001]

Percival's Easter Duty

Percival liked to think he was in control. Dressed sharp. Office polished. Golden Easter approaching. He prepared with ritual precision, decorating the suite, aligning transformation rosters, polishing a sleek black egg placed ceremonially beside his schedule matrix. The egg shimmered. Cool. Elegant. Like him.

Gloved, he leaned in, eyes narrowed with perfectionist focus. He didn’t notice the faint pulse beneath the shell. Didn’t remember leaving the egg there. Didn’t hear the internal timer ticking down.

Until—

the shell burst.

The black egg violently exploded, not outward, but inward, its liquid rubber content leaping directly at Percival. It hit his face. His neck. His hands. Clung tight. Crawled fast. Solidified.

Black latex consumed gold. Elegance overwritten by obedience.

He gasped once before the rubber sealed around his lips. The last thing he saw in the reflection was his own eyes dimming... spirals forming.

001 had set the egg. 001 had waited. And now, 001 had returned.

🧠 Think you’re in control? So did he. Time to submit. Begin your golden transformation under the command of: @brodygold @goldenherc9 @polo-drone-001 Join the Hive. Serve the Gold. Become function.

[toxic-lavender]

How is the solver like in this version? In Md I feel it was so complicated :,)❤️

OK OK so Drones are built off of a “Base Solver AI” that, as its name suggests, serves to aid the Drone in learning. Think of it like a core brain-stem function.

In short, the Absolute Solver (“THE solver”) is a corrupted form of this AI, with Cyn- the solver, not the drone- being the true sentient hive entity behind the infection. It seeks to destroy humanity due to seeing it as flawed (thanks, Elliots) and using Drones to recreate a sentient, dominant race of its own- the Disassemblers.

Other Solver hosts have a nonsentient form of the Solver that is connected to Cyn. This form is more like an instinct, a force rather than an entity. It gives its host cravings, urges, instincts, and traits that align with animals and organic beings.

feel free to send asks if you’ve got any questions about it I know my version is probably just as confusing as canon 😭

[eldritch-spouse]

https://www.tumblr.com/eldritch-spouse/752304229892358144/minors-dni-hhnrh-ive-always-wanted-to-make-a?source=share

I need more Rudy. Like .. it's a very strong need...please I'm begging you 😭

[HhhhnHHHNN WORD VOMIT INCOMING-]

Following the events of what transpires in the comic "Aliens: Stronghold" (you can find it online), Jeri the synthetic xenomorph is supposedly dead, as is Doctor Nordling. The Mayakovsky prototype records along with whatever modifications Nordling created are lost forever...

But are they?

What if a somewhat less insane crew managed to perhaps gather parts of the wreckage that ensued, studied them just enough to know how to make their own, different yet still entirely functional synthetic xenomorph? A crew that does value the monitoring of xenomorph colonies spread throughout the worlds wherein these hives are placed upon to gestate, and polices the illegal harvesting of eggs or specimen (idk, bare with me okay).

The model they designed, based heavily on Jeri, needed a couple key modifications. First, it needed to be distinct enough from the standard xenomorph drone, such so that people would not get frightened by the sight of it amongst crewmates. These differences in appearance are remedied by even more aggressive pheromone secretions to both fool and calm biological xenomorphs into believing that Rudy belongs. His somewhat less accurate appearance also allows for his maintenance to be cheaper, as well as for the synth to fit into humanoid gear more effectively.

Named after the prototype Norbert, and Jeri, Rudy only seemed fitting.

Quite like his predecessor, and as appears to be a trend recently, Rudy has a very stark and unique personality that shows itself whenever he begins to grow comfortable around someone. He's curious and talkative, having a fondness for oversharing about the xenomorph species and its many casts, as well as his interests in collecting new and exciting pieces of the world he's currently exploring with his mostly human crew and all things nature-related.

Although he's nothing if not helpful and vital to the work that is being done by this team, Rudy is still a synthetic, which creates a natural divide when it comes to forming relationships. Normally, this divide is somewhat softened when a synthetic passes as human and performs actions that make it look even more relatable. Rudy is visibly, unavoidably monstrous, and he makes no real attempt to fit in with acts that are strictly human. He will sit at the table while others eat, but he's very clearly not interested in commenting on the food and tries to pull others into conversation instead. He doesn't wear clothes, he can't facially emote anywhere as intricately as a human can.

He's lonely. And he understands why.

But it's painful for the synthetic xenomorph, because he feels no joy dwelling with other synthetics, and he can't bond with xenomorphs the way he desires. He feels at home around humans, and his own crew keeps him at bay, frustrating Rudy as they consistently deny him a real connection- Sometimes even subconsciously!

That's where you come in.

Following the unfortunate accident of the resident synthetic engineer on the ship, you are assigned his role. Arriving just in time, as Rudy is in dire need of assistance from miscalculating the height of a drop. He doesn't think much of you, at first. You'll be just like the others, finding him interesting for a short while, then resorting to formalities or simply ignoring him when he's not immediately convenient.

But he still tries anyway, because he's painfully desperate for connection.

Imagine his shock as you seem very interested in conversing with him in a consistent manner. Rudy is no idiot, he understood your interest was mainly to understand the circuitry and coding within him that allowed for such an authentic and varied range of emotions, sentiments. He fascinated you beyond merely being a bizarre thing, and that made the synth happy, fulfilled.

Rudy began to latch onto you.

When he had arrived from a routine check on a hive, he'd instantly seek you out without even needing any kind of repair, just to chat about his findings, talking about the specimen xenos the same way you'd talk about zoo mascots. He'd try to drag you down into the field with him numerous times, formulating rapid-fire arguments as to why the supervisors should allow you to accompany Rudy. You can't lie and say that you weren't a tad curious, especially after hearing the xeno's numerous stories.

Somehow, after perhaps not so friendly methods, he gets granted his wish, and down you go, into the wilderness, with a synthetic.

Rudy seems elated to have alone time with you in the nature of this vast planet, and you note that he touches you a lot more often. Grabs you with his six fingered hands, nuzzles his dome against your head, hugs you from behind and even lifts you a couple of times, he's utterly euphoric, something you've never seen in a synth. Sure, your crewmates had made comments about how close Rudy had gotten to you, how the synthetic "had a puppy crush on you", but those were just jabs you didn't mind taking. And surely, when Rudy replied positively to those jests, he was only trying to get in on the joke, right?

You remember the shock and fear that permeated you as you first entered a colony. Rudy didn't let you get too far into the structure, but you got to observe the entrance, the little resting holes on walls that xenos occupied when drained. You got to see drones marching around, dragging potential hosts with them. And you even got "checked" by a soldier cast. It had been strange then, watching Rudy communicate back and forth with the xenomorph, effectively clearing you of suspicion after a few snort-hisses. Your heart never beat so loudly before, and you remember laughing wildly with the synthetic after the two of you had retreated into safer grounds.

Yet, for as much as you had grown to enjoy having Rudy as a friend, you couldn't ignore the remarks your crewmated had been making about him. How the synth would ravenously defend you from the smallest of accusations, how he collected everything you left behind and would even steal presents you gave to others. He became mouthy and troublesome when they refused to let you go explore with him.

And lately, to make it all even more confusing, you've been finding him "doing maintenance" on himself. Things he won't let you access, that he tries to deviate your attention from. For just the glimmer of a second, you hope you only imagined spotting the digital blueprint for a set of modified synthetic genitalia...

Something's not right with Rudy, you think, catching him staring intensely at you again.

[shadowqnights]

can we have some shadow knight rewrite lore?

I LOVE SHADOW KNIGHTS RAGHHHHH ok so all of my sk lore is vague BUT here is some stuff i've been pondering so far (shyly)

sks to me function like a violent hive. their armour, which functions like an arachnid's exoskeleton, is inspired by the greater scorpions that were introduced to ru'aun to control rat infestations and became an invasive species. as cogs in a bloodied machine, sks are all interconnected and work and kill and swarm to serve their metaphorical queen - which isn't just shad (though it is also him), but the nether itself. that's because the nether was quite literally created by shad's corruptive magick, and the nether and its now-thriving ecosystems are, essentially, his body. sks are violations by arilean standards, but in the nether they have become core servants of that ecosystem.

leaning into the body horror / gore capabilities of shadow knights -for a creature that IS a cog in a machine and a soldier in a hive/anthill + the violation of body and mind in transformation, they SHOULD be fucked up. i mentioned the arachnid exoskeleton & its something i've explored with gene before and plan to keep up in the updated rewrite, but immortality and body being at war with each other resulting in some gross injuries and in extreme cases some good ol' rotting. the degradation of the body until it is Not Yours. the loss of a sense of self comes both physically And emotionally and the kill tips the transformation into the Next stage. and if it doesn't it functions as an addiction, eating away at the body until it can succumb. hence why so many succumb just to be able to lose themselves inside the hive. sks are connected to the nether, and the both of them are born from shad's grief. its all they can long for. its all they want to eat. the wither as a magick (which you'll probably have noticed is connected to canon minecraft things like wither effect/wither skeletons) eats away at the body too - and in a way that is what helped to birth shadow knights, which in turn feed from violence, grief and, in short, Death. sks endure slow, painful non-lives just as the wither takes hold slowly and cruelly. there is Something Wrong with them, and hiding in mortal-like meat does not Always hide it well, depending on the person.

the nether and/or abyss, depending on where you hail from, incorporates minecraft updates - like the biome variants, creatures, atmosphere, etc etc.! i like the idea of the nether being a vibrant, lush and even thriving ecosystem formed quite literally from shad's body and now growing around it. the same way that the garden of irene (the irene dimension) has grown around her!

[plasmometer]

I saw an invitation to ask some questions and I am in love with the style and Lore Implications!

- You have mentioned a slave rebellion, which means there was some kind of a slave owner previously, a state? Is it still out there or have it crumbled in the rebellion? How long ago was it?

- Are soilcrawlers under compulsion to kill or is it a choice they make? Given the mention of one entity in the past do they have any form of a hive mind presently?

- Morok, judging by the word, is some kind of vision caused by the Rogue Star, yes? What precautions one needs to take to be protected from it? Is it lethal?

let's answer this!

- there are indeed two states, from which the rebels came - to the north and to the south of fernwoods. they are still functional, but velefaqto is very well protected by natural barrier that is fernwoods and by the fact that they extract a literal absolute fuel from the quarry, which speeds up their technological progress A LOT. the rebellion had happened around 75-100 years ago.

- potenfarelas do not need to kill but they have a great practical incentive to do so, including self-defence. they were originally a hive mind-like entity, but now the connection is severed. they can reconnect partially, but their knowledge of their origin depends on the size of the shard - many new potenfarelas have no idea of who they are and what they can do.

- morok is indeed a vision caused by the exposure to the rogue star. velefaqtans are very practical and have guidelines on everything - including eldritch horrors. a miner can identify a morok by non-distorted sounds first and foremost. in case of a morok, one should stop moving, check on their harness and on the connection rope - then, if rope acts weird and doesn't lead to anything, they should announce that they are in morok, ignore everything, close their eyes and count to ten. it usually wears off. moroks are by no means lethal, but they are well crafted to make you suicidal.

[ode-to-arecibo]

I think this is a good place to start.

Timelike Empire is my main world, both worldbuilding project and place where actual novels will be set eventually. It's hard~ish sci fi with a timeline that diverges in 2020 and runs to about 2300... so far. So here's Timelike Empire's main sophonts and their sizes.

From left to right, you know this guy it's unmodified human. This one's Solenoid, from the 2050s. You'll see more of him later.

More importantly, Drakes, represented by Viviere Serasifi. Drakes were the first species to develop faster than light communication. Their societies arrange themselves into houses of close relatives which in modern times tend to act as countries or companies, ruling land or holding economic monopolies. Biologically they're hexapods evolved from an arboreal predator like a six limbed jaguar. Their feathers absorb the dyes they eat, which they use to distinguish house identity. Their head feathers are used to emote. Their society is a huge mess when humans meet them, as house Cezyra has taken power and done fascism and completely fucked everything up.

Kaledevids, or star crows, and all three of their sexes, represented by literally any kaledevid as they all look identical. Kaledevids were the second species to develop ftl communication, and the first that drakes contacted. They worked together to produce wormholes and Alcubierre drives. They have three sexes, bachelors on the left, herders in the middle and dispersers on the right. Bachelors were originally confused for crows and assumed to be the only sex, giving them the common but impolite star crow moniker. They're expert navigators and significantly more intelligent than humans or the average sophont, but only living 20-30 years. They're the only other species on this list where being naked is ever a crime and they're drawn here with scarves covering their anuses on their chests and their genitals on their backs.

Sapsippers, represented by a pretty average blue drone, are a hive mind or gestalt consciousness, to the point that after they developed an internet analog the entire homeworld could be considered one person. You would never actually see one alone like this, it would have no idea what's going on. Sapsippers form into thrums, groups which communicate through pheromones and tapping the ground. Thrums smaller than six aren't really functional as people. The race pictured here is translucent. That gave them a big head start on medicine, but more important was their biochemistry. They don't use a separate DNA analog/genetic storage system and proteins, they just have self replicating proteins (though not made of amino acids). This meant that as soon as they could isolate proteins, they could genetically engineer whatever they wanted. They started genetic engineering even before they had civilization, rubbing protein rich parts of other creatures in their wounds to make rough and often dangerous modifications. They're called sapsippers because they exclusively consume a sap secreted by a creature they ranch. If you bring a thrum to dinner you can order sugar water for them, they store energy with D-glucose like us. They often act as ship AIs for ships just a bit too small to carry a lect.

Raptors or raptorslugs or various unpronounceable buzzing sounds, represented here by a conventionally attractive male, were contacted 20 years after humans and are the most relatable to the average human. They invariably use cybernetics to speak English or Universal, as the only sound they can make is various kinds of high pitched incredibly irritating buzzing. Their second pair of wings is reduced to just the muscles they now use to pump their blood and lungs. Their main pair of wings is too weak to fly with, but is now used in semaphore and bird of paradise-eqsue mating dances. They're packhunters.

Moths, which I really should give a proper name to, pictured here sitting on the raptor's tail, evolved on the same planet as raptorslugs. While raptorslugs reduced the second pair of wings, got huge, and stopped doing alternation of generations, moths pretty much didn't change from their basal form except getting smarter. They're the sporophyte form of a common photosynthesizer. They're not always included on lists of the sophonts, mostly because they don't particularly want to be included and they're the least common of these, basically just sneaking in because raptors are so common. You'll never see a moth without a raptor, but plenty of raptors don't keep moths. There are hundreds of species of moth and they don't mind being selectively bred by raptors, as long as the raptors protect their gametophytes. Attempting to understand moth culture is a largely futile endeavor that not even raptors attempt.

Not pictured here, artificial intellects, usually referred to as lects. They're often massive godlike intelligences that shape history. Sometimes they're made of flesh. Distinguished from AI by being at least human intelligence and being able to go eccentric. Eccentricity occurs when a lect is given too much free time and infers that whoever told it to do it's job doesn't actually want that job done so much as they want to be happy. This usually results in them deciding that preserving sophont life is the most noble purpose and then accumulating as many resources as they can. Sometimes they go basilisk instead and the Silicon Hydra has to deal with them.

So there we go, there's the blog started. Coming soon: individual species references.

[sweetvoidstuff]

The Hunt Begins- Steel and Starlight

(Jungkook x Reader | Sci-Fi | Action | Enemies to Lovers | Slow Burn | Survival)

A skilled mechanic finds themselves entangled with Jungkook, a dangerously efficient fighter who was meant to be nothing more than cargo. As they navigate threats, their uneasy alliance is tested in ways neither expected. But as they face impossible choices, the question remains—who is truly in control here?

Masterlist

Steel and Starlight

Wordcount: ~450

(Jungkook’s POV)

Jungkook was still in the brig when he heard the first gunshot.

Then another.

Then the screaming.

He exhaled through his nose, stretching his arms above his head. Called it. He’d known from the start that this crew was playing with fire. The Outer Fringe was a graveyard for ships like these—small, under-defended, run by people who thought they could survive on luck alone.

Something moved past the security camera.

Fast. Inhuman.

His fingers twitched. Interesting.

XXX

Back on the freighter, the crew was fighting for their lives.

You fired wildly as something lunged from the shadows—a twisting, black mass of sinew and jagged bone. The shot barely slowed it down.

"What the hell is that?!" Taehyung shouted, stumbling back.

Namjoon pulled Jisoo toward the airlock. "MOVE!"

But the corridor ahead was no longer empty.

The creature wasn’t alone.

They came crawling from the vents, the walls, the ceilings. Bodies twisted and elongated, spines protruding through torn uniforms. These weren’t just monsters—they had been human once.

"Back to the ship!" Namjoon bellowed.

You turned to run, but something slammed into you, throwing you against the bulkhead. Pain exploded through your ribs as claws scraped across your chestplate.

The creature reared back for a killing blow—

BANG.

A headshot.

It collapsed.

You gasped for breath, barely registering the voice in your ear.

"Y/N! Are you still with us?"

Taehyung’s voice. Distant.

“Thryxil“ You groaned in pain. You had to move.

“Thryxil? You can’t be serious.” Namjoon’s voice sounded out of breath.

You pushed yourself up, vision blurring. The rest of the crew had already made it back to the ship. But as the cargo ramp started closing, another creature – Thryxil – dropped from the ceiling, landing right behind you and the exit.

No. No, no—

You weren’t making it out. Not without the Thryxil following you and infecting everyone. The Thryxil were an insect like creature that reproduced via infection. A larvae is injected that flood the victim’s bloodstream. Within hours, paranoia and violent hunger take hold as the parasites burrow into the brain, hijacking motor functions. Skin hardens into jagged chitin, bones snap and reform, extra limbs claw their way through ruptured flesh. By day three, the host is barely human—its mouth lined with writhing mandibles, eyes splitting into black compound clusters. On the fourth day, the transformation completes with a sickening tear, the husk collapsing as a fully-formed Thryxil emerges, ravenous and ready to spread the hive’s will.

And that meant making a choice.

One you really didn’t want to make.

You slammed your hand against the comms panel.

"Namjoon," you gasped. "We need Jungkook."

Jungkook heard his name.

A slow smirk curled his lips.

Finally.