#i have committed fanfiction

[droewyn]

Hello Tumblr, I finished a WIP recently and I’m very proud of it.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/22090135

Title: Never Thought I’d End Up Here, With You

Fandom: Yuri!!! on Ice

Relationship: Victuuri.

Rating: T

Word Count: 13,000

Content Warnings: Bullying (1 scene), Nongraphic Animal Attack (1 scene), Police.

Tags: Soulmates, Magical Animals, Shapeshifting, Canon Divergence, Alternate Sochi, Meet-Cute, Fluff, Minor Angst, Sochi-Typical Angst, Casual Nudity, Sharing a Bed, Naked Cuddling, Adult Communication, Breaking the Internet, Phichit Chulanont Is A Little Shit, Oblivious Heartbreaker Yuuri, First Kiss, and Just a PINCH of Identity Porn.

Summary:  He didn't even see who it was.  The most magical moment in a person's life, when destined partners meet, and bond, and shift for the first time, and Yuuri had missed it.  Because his back was turned.   Because he hadn't been able to face the blank politeness in Victor Nikiforov's eyes.  Because the absolute last thing he wanted was to commemorate his failure.  Because he and Mochi had been in the same room with Victor and his soul beast, and nothing had happened.  Until it did.  And he didn't even know who his soulmate was.

If you like YOI and/or soulmates, please give it a read! 

If you don’t know YOI, all you need to know is that 1) Victor Nikiforov is the greatest figure skater in history and Katsuki Yuuri has been crushing on him since Yuuri was twelve, and 2) Yuuri’s dog Vicchan canonically dies during the Grand Prix Finals -- the final event in a VERY important figure skating tournament -- which causes Yuuri to completely bomb his performance and end up in last place by a margin of 100+ points.

[clownsuu]

Get CRABBED aahHahhaah

What- are these funky lil lads doin on my screen-???

[dizzybevvie]

Something about nostalgia

(click for better quality PLEASEEE)

[turvi]

Best Mistake

Pairing: Severus Snape x Reader, Sirius Black x Reader(ex)

Y/n notices how he laughs, it's so different. She never saw him laugh like that with her. In fact, she never even saw him smile brightly at her. Sirius Black was an enigma, a dream. It was an honor if he even decided to look your way so Y/n was ecstatic with just the mere fact that she is dating him.

She will sit in the corner and watch him talk to the girls with such adoration and seduction it broke her heart that he didn't even give her the time of his life. She wondered if he really loved her when he didn't even look into her eyes like they held all the universe's answers.

She was sitting on the ground with the Marauders zoned out looking in the distance when Lily suddenly asked Sirius "what is Y/n's eye color".

There was an awkward silence as they all looked at Sirius to reply but not Y/n. She looked into the distance when Lily asked her the color of Sirius' eyes. Without hesitation she replied grey. Everyone was shocked including Sirius. No one knew how many times she looked into those same grey eyes trying to find love.

She ignored Sirius' stare and pretended like her heart was not shattering right now. Only if he knew how she felt. Only if he would not play with her emotions. Y/n can only wish right now as Sirius holds her hand. She doesn't know how to feel she tries to calm her beating heart knowing this is temporary.

Lo and behold the next time she saw Sirius he was flirting with another girl. She would not have paid attention to it but he made a promise to be a better boyfriend only to break that promise again.

She sighed and went towards the black lake. She sat against a tree branch letting her tears fall not knowing a pair of onyx eyes were looking at her.

When she realized she turned around to see Severus staring at her. When he realized he has been caught he looked down at the ground. He kept looking at the ground when a pair of shoes came into view.

He looked up to see Y/n standing in front of him with her hands on her hips. Her eyes were puffy from crying. "Why are you staring?"

"You were in my spot. That is my crying spot."

She sighed. She knew how her boyfriend and his best friend bullied him a lot and even after trying to talk to Sirius to stop it he only increased the bullying.

She patted the empty spot beside her "let's cry together then"

Severus sighed and sat down. He didn't want to admit that he had always loved her but he strayed away knowing that she is Sirius' girlfriend.

"Let me guess Sirius made you cry?"

She scoffed at the way he spoke and sassed "yes Severus he made me cry like always and I bet he doesn't even notice I am not there with him right now"

After a few minutes of comfortable silence, Severus spoke up again "why are you still with him when he treats you like this?"

She sighed "because I know no one will love me and even if he gives me a bit of attention that is enough for me. I am scared if I leave him I will lose that bit of attention I get, and I know I sound dumb but it is true". Tears brimmed her eyes as she let out a shaky breath.

Severus lifted her face so he could look into her eyes. "Y/n it does not sound dumb." He softly caressed her cheek, he knew what he was doing was wrong but it is not his fault Sirius didn't know how to treat his girlfriend right, Severus was going to do a better job at that. "Give me a chance, I know you are heartbroken but I am willing to wait for you, to show you how much love you deserve".

She quickly blinked her eyes "what?"

He gently held her face now in his hands "you don't have to love me back. Just let me show you what you deserve and if you want to go to Sirius after that I won't stop"

She gulped as she saw his pupils dilate and nodded. Severus whispered in her ear huskily "use your words"

Her breath hitched "y-yes I am willing to give you chance"

He smirked "good girl". He pinned her against the tree and kissed her like he owns her heart. His desperate tongue met hers as she melted in his arms. She was a bit surprised as his hand was on the tree and the other on her waist. He kissed the sensitive spot on her neck lightly and looked at her waiting for her to stop him.

"Sev-you should take me on a date first"

He chuckled "were you waiting for me to make a move because it seems to me you already forgot your boyfriend"

She pulled his hair lightly earning a groan from him "you should not talk about my ex-boyfriend when you just tongue-kissed me"

He growled "Ex-boyfriend. I like the sound of it. I promise I won't let you down, sweets"

The next few days were an emotional rollercoaster for Sirius. First Y/n unceremoniously announced in front of his friends that she has had enough and wanted to break up.

He was confused about how easily she broke up with him. Usually, she was the one who was so scared of losing him so he decided to follow her.

He transformed into his animagus form and discreetly followed. His jaw dropped to the floor as he saw the scene in front of him.

Y/n wrapped her arms around Severus who was eager to kiss her and Y/n did not deny him. They sat down and Severus laid back against the tree as Y/n lay on his shoulder and chatted as he played with her hair. They looked at each other as if there is no one else in the world. The scene looked so intimate he just dropped his head and walked away with a broken heart and sorrowful soul.

It was then he realized what he had lost and there was nothing he could do about it.

A/N: I actually squealed at Severus' part so hopefully you like it too. REBLOG AND FEEDBACKS ARE APPRECIATED

[hansa-lao]

Bumblebee was a quiet child until he was about 6 years old. But after Jazz started learning how to be a scout, Bee turned into a little demon with an angelic face.

He didn't admit to his pranks until the end.

For example, he drowned (don't ask where) the nuts that the engineers used because they rudely kicked him out.

Or he made a simple virus that caused gadgets to glitch and change colors on the screen. And Bee uploaded it to the Prowl datapad just like that (he was too correct)

Bumblebee exhausted the nerves of almost everyone who was at the Iacon base.

[roseddraws]

Okay so I posted this on Ao3 ages ago but completely forgot I meant to upload here so uh… better late than never?

Anyway this is the first part of my roleswap au :D Working on part two now; I’ll upload it here once it’s done, but there are two chapters on my Ao3 already if anyone wants to check it out!

[antimonys-stuff]

STOP EVERYTHING AND GO READ THIS FIC. DO IT NOW.

i don't remember if i ever recommended this fanfiction here but even if i did do so, it deserves another mention and all the mentions that will (and they WILL!!!!) come after this. this is straight up the best zelda botw fanfic i have read. i have spasmodic euphoria every time i read it and i have read it a couple times already and the intensity does not change. the author has the hands of god and a mind worth the entire sun. if u have ever cared about botw even the tiniest bit or heck. even if you dgaf about botw read it. read it anyway. it's SO GOOD its DEVASTATING

[mumms-the-word]

Wandering the Gray

Pairing: Gale x gn!Tav Summary: In the midst of a brutal battle against Viconia DeVir and the Sharrans, Gale finds himself in the Fugue Plane once again. But this time, he recognizes a voice echoing in the distance. ao3 link A/N: You can 100% blame a 1 minute section of The Underworld from Epic the Musical by Jorge Rivera-Herrans for this fic. That's the entire inspiration for this fic. I don't want to spoil too much but if you've heard the song you know what's coming. also I suck at titles, every other title was too spoilery to me anyways enjoy the angst CW: some mention of suicidal ideation, death, grief, sad feels in general,

The air is thick with magical darkness, thick enough to drown in, and Gale is barely hanging on by a thread. He can feel the darkness choking him as he stumbles back, narrowly dodging a blade as it arcs toward him, appearing and disappearing in the inky black. Spell effects from the others briefly illuminate the darkness like obscured lightning amidst stormclouds, but nothing is effectively dispelling the swirling black. Shadowheart had warned them this would be the Sharrans’ tactics, and they had prepared as best as they were able, but the darkness was relentless. Gale had lost sight of her and the others ages ago. Now, he dares not cast spells with wide damage, lest he harm Shadowheart, his other allies, and Tav as well as the Sharrans.

His back hits granite and he realizes too late that he’s backed himself into a wall or platform of some kind. He grips his staff, jaw clenched, ready to swing outward or thunderwave the next Sharran that emerges from the darkness. His heart thumps loudly in his chest, in his ears, and though the battle rages all around him, it’s all he can hear. Every last desperate beat of a heart that is failing, his wounds too much to bear.

He nearly freezes as Viconia herself steps through the darkness. She sneers at him, but something in her stance assures him that he’s not worth her time. Before he can so much as summon a firebolt, however, she gestures sharply toward him, uttering a curse in Drowic. He feels the curse wrap around his chest, squeezing tightly, and his head begins to swim. A barrage of thoughts crowd his mind, clawing at his every insecurity and tearing them open to be laid bare and bleeding. Inadequacy, shame, guilt, terror, they all threaten to overwhelm him.

He sucks in a breath and flings a chromatic orb of crackling lightning at Viconia, but she blocks it readily with her shield. Smirking faintly, she steps backward into the darkness, leaving Gale with her curse, like a thousand voices screaming in his mind.

Pathetic. Weak. Flew too close to the sun. Defied your goddess. A shadow of your former self. Not worth redemption. Use the orb, Gale. Kill yourself. Kill yourself!

He doesn’t see the mace come arcing down toward his head until it’s too late.

—

When he opens his eyes again, he’s not surrounded by darkness, but by shades of gray. Gray and white fog swirls slowly around him and the sky overhead is shrouded in low-hanging clouds, all dull silver. Flakes of ash drift by, born aloft by winds that he cannot feel or sense.

The Fugue Plane, he realizes distantly, looking slowly around him. There’s nothing to see. Even the flat ground beneath his feet is a colorless gray, not quite stone but not quite earth either. When he shifts, his steps kick up a fine dusting of ash, or perhaps mist, which floats upward to join the shifting fog around him. There’s not even a shadow of the looming city of the dead to look for, to guide his steps. 

Just an endless expanse of cloudy gray.

The sheer emptiness of it all settles over him immediately, threatening to make him fold. He’d hoped since the last time he died, he would never have to return. Or at least that the next time would be decades and decades away. To be back so soon…

He lifts a hand to his chest, as if seeking out the pouch that formerly rested over his heart, but he knows it’s not there. Even in the Material world, he no longer wears the pouch. Tav carries it now, though it bears little more than a scrap piece of parchment and a flute, the scroll of true resurrection used up some time ago. He knows he ought to be at least a little concerned, though logically, it won’t be the first time that Withers had dragged one of them from the Fugue Plane for a meager sum of gold. It’s just a matter of waiting.

But it is the waiting that wearies him. A moment in the Fugue Plane stretches on for aeons, in his mind. Even his movements feel weighted down. But with nothing else to do but sit or walk, he chooses to walk.

As he moves through the fog, the hush of the plane is oppressive. Like a droning whisper, the only sound he can hear is a white noise that feels thick enough to cut through yet distant enough that the source is always out of sight, out of reach. There are no words to pick out from the hush, however. As he walks, he moves through the mist alone. No other souls pass by or even materialize in the gray.

Never has he felt so desperately alone, so isolated.

But then…a voice. 

He stops and turns his head as he hears it echoing through the fog, half thinking it’s his imagination. But then he hears it again, this time clearer and closer.

“…waiting…”

He grows still and would have grown cold, had he any body left. That voice…he knows that voice.

“It can’t be,” he whispers.

“I’m waiting…”

He takes a cautious step forward, following the voice deeper into the fog, straining his ears for more of that familiar voice. It must be a trick, and yet…

“Waiting…I’m waiting…”

“Morena?” he calls through the gray, but his voice is muffled, swallowed up by fog and mist. He turns to move in the direction of her voice, following it through the swirling gray.

“My darling boy…”

“Mother!” He stumbles forward and then to a halt, a figure materializing in the mist. “Mother…”

There she sits, perched on the flat of a rock, her hands resting demurely in her lap, the same way she sits in her favorite chair on her balcony overlooking the Waterdhavian harbor. A slate gray sea laps onto the ashen shore around the rock, the rest of the waters disappearing into the dark fog. The sound of the waves should have been familiar, comforting, but the sound is quiet, as if he stands yards away rather than only a few paces from the shore.

She doesn’t turn to look at him. Instead she sits, her head turned toward the water, just as he remembers her looking the last time he visited her in Waterdeep, over a year ago. Before his fall. Before his folly. She’d been admiring the sunset then, a wistful smile on her lips, a book abandoned in her lap. Now her expression is distant and tired.

She should not be here.

“Mother,” he murmurs, venturing another cautious step closer. But she doesn’t seem to hear him. She never once glances his way as he finally reaches the rock she sits on, kneeling down near her feet. He barely notices the water soaking his robes and trousers as the sea flows up toward the rock and ebbs away. “Mum...”

Again she ignores him, her white, clouded eyes on the horizon. Or what would be the horizon, if the swirling mist were not obscuring every view. She hums absently under her breath, little melodies that are heartbreakingly familiar, but she never once looks away from that hidden horizon.

She shifts, her hands making a stroking motion as if she were petting something in her lap. “I know he’ll be home soon, Tara,” she murmurs, her voice echoing softly in the mist as it did when he was searching for her moments ago. “I don’t mind waiting for him.”

“I’m here, Mum,” he says softly, his throat closing around tears he can’t shed. He doesn’t have a body to produce tears nor a physical heart to break. So why does he feel so desperately sad? Why does it feel like he’s about to unravel completely? Some part of him still desperately hopes this is all an illusion. A trick. “I’m…I’m right here.”

But she never hears him. The souls of the dead rarely see or acknowledge each other. He knows that from his last visit to the Fugue Plane. But she can’t…she can’t be…Tara would have said if she were…

She breathes a small sigh, smiling gently to herself and looking down at her lap. “My darling boy…my little love. I do miss him, Tara. But I know he’ll return soon. And when he does, I’ll be here for him. Waiting right here, where he knows to find me.” She looks again to the distant horizon. “I don’t mind waiting…as long as it takes…”

“No,” Gale whispers. “It can’t be…when...”

The answer unfolds in his mind with dreadful certainty. It doesn't matter when.

He took too long to return to her. His year-long seclusion in his tower. The journey from the nautiloid. Months spent traveling, moving farther and farther from Waterdeep. He kept himself away for too long and left his home and his mother entirely behind, and now…

Now it is too late.

He reaches up for her hand, but his fingers pass through her and her form flickers briefly. He curls his fingers into a fist, battling the swirl of emotions inside him. Rage at himself, fear, a desperate longing to say something, do something, to get her to simply look at him. To acknowledge him.

But mostly grief. A deep, irrepressible grief that yawns within him like a chasm with no end. Black and cruel.

“I’m here,” he says again, his voice breaking. “Mum…I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry. I…”

He shouldn’t have stayed away. Yet even as he thinks it, what other choice did he have? There were no choices. There are no choices. Everything he’d done since his fall, he’d done to protect her. Every choice he makes now is for that very purpose, to save her and everyone else in Faerûn.

And now it doesn’t matter. They’re both dead. 

“I love you,” he says, looking up at her, even knowing that she can't hear him. “All my heart, Mum, I love you. Forgive me. Forgive me.” He bows his head, bringing his forehead nearly to her knee, struggling to compose himself. “Forgive me…”

The hush of the plane and the faint sound of the sea are all that respond. But then a featherlight touch brushes his hair. He looks up, scarcely daring to hope.

His mother gazes down at him, her white eyes focused on him. When she sees him staring back at her, she smiles softly.

“My darling boy,” she murmurs, brushing the backs of her fingers against his cheek. Her voice still bears that distant, echoing tone, as if she’s a thousand miles away. “It’s time for you to wake up.”

“Wake up?”

“Wake up, my love,” she says again, and this time her voice sounds even more distant. Altered. Not quite her own. She covers his eyes with her hand, shutting his eyes for him, and he drifts into darkness. “Wake up.” 

“Gale! Wake up!”

His eyes fly open and he gasps, his lungs desperate for air. He looks around wildly, expecting more of the Fugue Plane, but instead he finds the familiar wooden walls and ceiling of the Elfsong Tavern. He turns his head to find Tav staring at him, their eyes wide with worry.

“Tav?” he mumbles.

“It was just a dream, love,” Tav says, brushing a hand over his sweat-soaked forehead, pushing his hair from his face. “I’ve been trying to wake you for a while now.”

“A dream…” He struggles to make sense of it, but slowly the pieces fall into place. 

Their fight at the House of Grief, where Gale had very nearly died. Nearly, but not quite. He remembers going with Shadowheart to free her parents, only to realize that their freedom meant their deaths. It had weighed on Gale’s spirit, watching her parents smile at their daughter mere seconds before turning into motes of light. He remembers thinking it was an impossible choice, one he couldn't have made on his own.

Something about it seems to have stayed with him. Even now, he half-fears that his dream is more than a dream. A premonition, perhaps, or a glimpse of the future.

Gods, he hopes not.

He sits up, rubbing his hands over his face. His shirt sticks to his sweat-soaked back and he wants nothing more than to splash his face and neck with cold water. But first—

“Where’s Tara?” he asks, dropping his hands.

Tav’s eyebrows draw together. “Tara?”

“I’m here, Mr. Dekarios.” She hops onto the back of the bed where it shares a backboard with Karlach’s. Tara always had an uncanny knack for being nearby whenever she was needed. She licks at one paw before fluffing her feathers and fixing her gaze on him. “Oh my. You look as though you’ve seen a ghost, Mr. Dekarios.”

He huffs a shaky laugh, but it’s without humor. “I almost fear I have, Tara. Tell me—this must sound like I’m mad but—my mother. Is she well?”

“Mrs. Dekarios? She’s as fit as ever, last I saw.”

“And how long ago was that?”

“Why, only just the other day,” Tara said, flicking her ears. “I check on her regularly, you know. I wouldn’t miss our evening tea time for the world.”

Gale breathes a sigh of relief, dropping his head in his hands again. It was just a dream. Just a horrible dream. Probably left over from Viconia’s fear curse that had struck him during the battle earlier that day.

He feels Tav’s hand rubbing comfortingly against his back. “Gale? Is everything okay?”

“Yes,” he mumbles. He takes a deep breath and drops his hands again, leaning back against the pillows. “Yes. My apologies. It was a bad dream, like you said.”

Tav is quiet for a moment before cuddling close, wrapping their arms around his middle. He shifts so that his arm is around their shoulders, his fingers trailing absently along their arm.

“Was it about your mother?” they ask quietly.

Gale’s throat closes up, but his silence his answer enough. He clears his throat quietly. “I saw her in the Fugue Plane. A dead soul.”

He can say no more. He reaches up to press his thumb and forefinger against his eyes, as if to block the tears that sting behind his lids. Even the thought of her sitting alone on her balcony, waiting for him, while he puts himself in more and more danger, is enough to break him. He takes a shuddering breath and Tav wraps their arms tighter around him.

“It’s okay,” they whisper. “I’m here.”

“I know. I…thank you.” He manages to compose himself enough to lower his hand and turn his head toward Tara. Her feline eyes glint in the darkness, watching him in silence. “Tara, will you—”

“I assure you, Mr. Dekarios, your mother is hale and hearty,” she says. “And we both have the utmost confidence that you’ll wrap up this Absolute business in time for the upcoming holidays, which you will be spending in Waterdeep, of course.”

“Of course,” Gale says, managing a smile. “But I have a request. I want you to go home.”

Tara blinks, and though she controls most of her expression he sees the fur on her neck start to rise. “Home? And leave you behind?”

“Please Tara,” he says. He rubs a hand against Tav’s back, knowing they’re listening quietly. “I will be fine here. You know you can trust Tav to look after me. But I need someone there to look after Morena. There’s no one more suited to the task than you.”

Tara’s tail flicks several times as she regards him in disdainful silence. But then her fur settles and she looks away. “Very well, Mr. Dekarios.”

“And don’t tell her anything. I don’t want her to worry.”

“Very well, Mr. Dekarios. If that is what you wish.”

“It is.” He knows he’s just worrying too much, but his dream has shaken him. Better to have Tara there, just in case, than to spend weeks wondering and worrying. “Thank you, Tara.”

“You’re quite welcome. But I shall expect you home within a few tendays, you know.”

Gale chuckles, settling in with Tav at his side. “We’ll see what we can do. Safe travels, Tara.”

“You as well, Mr. Dekarios. And you,” she directs her next words to Tav, who turns their head to look up at her. “Do see to it that he does not suffer more bad dreams.”

With that slight admonition, she hops down and disappears into the darkness.

Gale breathes a small sigh, shifting to get more comfortable and wrapping Tav more tightly in his embrace. “You should get some rest, my love. It’s still quite early in the morning.”

“What about you?” they whisper, their cheek resting on his chest.

He’s quiet for a moment. “I fear that after a dream like that, I’m wary of falling asleep again.” 

His dreams rarely repeat in the same night, but he can’t shake the irrational fear that if he falls asleep again, he’ll just find himself back in the Fugue Plane. Searching for his mother.

“Hmm…” Tav turns their head to rest their chin on his chest, looking up at him. “Then I’ll stay awake for a bit too.”

“You don’t have to—”

“I want to.” They shift to bring their lips up to kiss him before settling back where they were, pressed against his side with their cheek on his chest. “Talk to me for a bit. Tell me about your mother.”

“My mother? What would you like to know?”

“Everything. Whatever you feel comfortable with sharing.”

Gale pauses to think. Where does one begin when it comes to the venerable Morena Dekarios? But despite his hesitation, he’s grateful Tav is asking. He knows they’re only trying to distract him, but it helps. 

“Well,” he begins. “My mother is the inimitable, dare I say unavoidable, Morena Dekarios. She resides in Waterdeep, in a home overlooking the harbor…”

As he speaks, telling Tav of his mother’s quirks, her affection for him, the way she seems to know everyone, her favorite dishes, her talents, and more, his anxieties eventually fade away. It’s as though speaking of her like this, in the present tense, is proof that she is well. And would still be well when he finally returns to her. 

After a while Tav yawns, their voice heavy with sleep as they mumble, "She sounds lovely, Gale. I can't wait to meet her."

He smiles softly and presses a little kiss to Tav's hair. "Nor I, my love. I'm certain she will adore you."

Tav hides their sleepy smile in his chest and soon their breathing evens out, a sure sign they've been lulled to sleep. Gale listens to them breathing for a moment, grateful for every breath. Grateful, too, that they were willing to stay up and listen to him mumble quietly about his mother for an hour, of all things to talk about.

It’s enough to soothe his guilty conscience for the night. His dream was just a dream, he's more certain of that now. And one day, hopefully soon, he'll be back in Morena's parlor again, suffering her affectionate chiding and introducing her to the love of his life. The thought brings a smile to his face and he closes his eyes, comforted by daydreams of Tav meeting Morena Dekarios.

The daydreams soon bring with them the wave of exhaustion and at last he gives in, closing his eyes and drifting away for a few scant hours of dreamless sleep.

[lunarriviera]

"the fifth hallow" | 镇魂 guardian, E, 31.5k

the fifth hallow (31465 words) by lunarriviera fandom: 镇魂 | Guardian (TV 2018) rating: Explicit warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply relationships: Shen Wei/Zhao Yunlan characters: Da Qing, Fu You, Ma Gui, Ye Zun, Original Character(s), Guo Changcheng, Zhu Hong, Chu Shuzhi, Lin Jing tags: Ye Olde Haixing Era, Time Travel Fix-It, Angst with a Happy Ending, Porn with Feelings, Zhao Yunlan Being Zhao Yunlan, Young Shen Wei, Post-Canon Fix-It, Reconciliation, Ye Zun Redemption summary: Because you know what? Fuck the timeline.

He closes his eyes deliberately, then opens them again. This time slow. Careful. Sways up onto his hands and knees, and looks up. On all sides of him everything resolves into soft, dark night. He’s in Haixing, back in the mountains—but not with Shen Wei. He looks down to see the greaves covering both his arms, leather wrapped tightly, bound around his wrists, his hair hanging down, and wants to scream. He’s alone. “Not this again,” he whispers, voice thready, and looks back up at the night sky, thick with stars.

[apoptoses]

Something that's been on my mind is seeing the idea that in order for smut to be valid to write it has to have a purpose. It has to say something about the characters, it has to serve as a tool for the plot, it has to have some deep meaning beyond the sex acts involved.

And honestly, that's not true no matter how much some very vocal people might insist that smut without a 'purpose' is just porn and porn is shameful to make and consume.

It's okay to write smut because you think the concept is hot. It's okay to write it just because you want to give your readers jerk off material about their favorite characters. It's absolutely, 100% fine to write smut for smut's sake.

And sure, you want it to be in character, you want to write it so that you can't just file the names off and replace them with anyone. But you can just write something because you think character X should fuck character Y in this very specific way and have that be the end of it.

Call it smut, call it porn, call it whatever. Write the stuff you want to write. You don't have to do literary gymnastics in order to make it 'valid' for anyone, and you especially don't have to make excuses to yourself to justify writing it in the first place.

[droewyn]

Never Thought I’d End Up Here, With You: A Victuuri Fanfic

Status: COMPLETE!

Rated T

No Archive Warnings Apply

Main Pairing: Victor Nikiforov / Katsuki Yuuri

Tags: Soulmates, Shapeshifting, Meet-Cute, Alternate Sochi, Sochi-Typical Angst (Vicchan Dies), Fluff, Bullying, Animal Attack (but not really), Casual Nudity (Chris.  It’s Chris), Sharing a Bed, Naked Cuddling, Adult Communication, Police, Oblivious Heartbreaker Yuuri Katsuki, Breaking the Internet, Phichit Chulanont Is A Little Shit, First Kiss, and Just a PINCH of Identity Porn

Summary:  He didn't even see who it was.  The most magical moment in a person's life, when destined partners meet, and bond, and shift for the first time, and Yuuri had missed it.  Because his back was turned.   Because he hadn't been able to face the blank politeness in Victor Nikiforov's eyes.  Because the absolute last thing he wanted was to commemorate his failure.  Because he and Mochi had been in the same room with Victor and his soul beast, and nothing had happened.

Until it did.  And he didn't even know who his soulmate was.

Comments keep my skin clear and my crops watered!  I roll around in them like Scrooge McDuck swims in his vault.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/22090135

[moregraceful]

Taking a tumblr hiatus until my mom's cancer treatment is done 🤙

starts tomorrow, but I simply cannot liveblog my way through another round of parent cancer again.

I will post round up posts for challenges as promised each month and I think my queue is full for another two weeks, otherwise catch me in the drift [it is unclear what the drift is.]

[mousfri]

it's so cool to see recent efforts to increase engagement (comments, reblogs) in fandom spaces actually working in little ways. there's so much joy to be found in talking about the thoughts and processes of creating fandom content, not to mention it's role in demystifying art, writing, and analysis and making it more accessible to those new to the community.

[greyias]

I wish you would write a fic where... Theron somehow amasses a following of actual, physical porn bots droids and shenanigans ensue

I saw this prompt come in and devolved into a fit of heinous cackling. How, oh how could I resist trying to render our collective Tumblr nightmare into fictional text form?

Context: While not required reading, this is technically a sequel to this stunning crackfic, authored so long ago. If you need a refresher on the Medical Droid Love Triangle Saga, follow this link. Or this one, which is the real villain origin story of this fic. Or don't, you're already cursed if you click beyond the read more of this post.

With special thanks to @grumpyhedgehog, @sandwyrm, @storyknitter, @kitsonpaws, and @andveryginger for providing me with ideas, cursed pornbot summaries, and many cursed HoloNet websites that should never exist. You are not required to read any of this.

Technically rated T, but in reality rated N for Nobody, because no one should have to read this. I'm packing my bags, as my ride to superhell just came. Enjoy.

It had started as such a normal day -- if you could indeed have called any day on Odessen “normal”. What with the galaxy always being at the brink of some disaster or another, and their merry little band of misfits being led by the galaxy’s most notorious do-gooder, Theron’s schedule and to-do list had a tendency to get derailed on almost a daily basis.

This, however, was not how that usually happened.

He’d paused, mid-step, finger still hovering over his datapad, mid-entry as the hairs on the back of his neck stood on end, slowly dawning horror washing over him. His head turned slowly, like one of those doomed characters in a horror holofilm to look at the droid he’d just passed.

It was one of the new ones that had come in on a recent shipment. So new in fact, that there was still a fleet of them in the middle of being unpacked in the Logistics Wing. Shining, tall and blue, its highly polished quadranium head pivoted to look back at him.

“What,” Theron swallowed, willing his voice to sound even and not give in to the creeping dread, “what did you say?”

“Theron Shan,” the droid repeated helpfully, “is a master lover.”

“Oh no.” The words slipped out of their own accord.

“Just a moment, sir,” the droid continued, seemingly oblivious to the human’s distress, “I’m not quite done with your evaluation yet. Let’s see, where were we?”

“No no no no.”

The round flattened dome that served as its head tilted to one side, beady orange eyes sweeping over Theron from head to toe, before resuming its cheery, if horrifying report. “Subject is an exemplary specimen. In good cardiovascular health, above average muscle tone. Tall, well-built, and very clean...”

“Um,” Theron stammered. “I’m...” Flattered? Taken? Leaving? Wait--yes, that last one. “Going now!”

He didn’t give the cursed machine any more time to continue ogling him, instead taking off down the hall at a very brisk walk that nearly bordered on a jog. His mind raced at he beat a hasty retreat, trying to understand what was happening. It had been over a year since the The Incident, dubbed by some as the “Sexy Spy Virus”, and others by much more crude names, where a little harmless reprogramming had taken on a life of its own. Theron had been meticulous in his coding of the antivirus, wanting to ensure that the entire debacle would be forgotten. There was simply no way that it could crop back in on its own.

“Theron,” the brisk accented tone of one Lana Beniko burst in over his comm, “why did a droid just feel the need to inform me that they found rust on its insides during its last tune-up?”

“I don’t know,” Theron insisted, but his words were almost drowned out by a metallic clanking echoing down the corridor.

He threw a look over his shoulder, and to his horror, saw that his robotic admirer had decided to give chase. 

“I’m going to have to call you back,” he quickly said into the comm as the droid picked up speed from a walk to an all out gallop.

“Theron,” she sounded both concerned and exasperated, which, considering Lana, was about par the course, “what’s going on?”

“Save me!” He shouted as he took off a dead sprint.

In his many years in the field, Theron had been threatened, sure. Shot at? Many times. He’d been drugged. Tortured. Stabbed through the gut with a lightsaber pike and lived to tell the tale. He’d run into Sith, Revanites, bounty hunters, thugs, fanatics and cultists alike. He’d been in more firefights than he could remember, and more covert ops than he cared to. He’d even been accused of being a traitor (although that was kind of the point at the time).

None of that compared right now to being chased down by a droid yelling at top volume claiming he was the best lover it had ever seen.

And this time, he was pretty sure it wasn’t actually his fault.

He rounded the corner from the corridor leading from the Logistics Wing, passing by the Commander’s (and at this point, his) Quarters. HK-55 and Z0-0M straightened to their full height at his arrival. Oh thank the Force, allies.

“Salutations: Agent Shan, you are looking quite spry today.”

“What?” he panted as he approached.

“Yes, Agent Shan, don’t believe what anyone else is saying!” Zeeyo exclaimed, throwing her arms into the air. “Your undercarriage doesn’t look rusty at all!”

Mind sharp as a tack, Theron realized the implications of this just in time, and dodged to the side, ducking and rolling as the assassin-turned-bodyguard droid lunged forward to trap him in a bear hug. Not pausing to even catch his breath, as soon as his feet hit the ground he propelled himself forward and further down the hall.

“Frustration: I only wish to profess my admiration for you, Agent Shan!”

“Nope nope nope nope!” Desperation was starting to tinge the edges of his words now.

The metallic clanking intensified as more droids behind him joined in the chase, all of their vocabulators joining in unison to tell him in one way, or another, that he was in fact, the pinnacle of sexual prowess.

Theron couldn’t run forever, despite whatever their programming was forcing them to say, his stamina would give out before the lustftul droids’ power supplies. As the corridor zigged and twisted, he saw an opening in the form of a door sliding open. Without hesitation he dove in, shoving the individual there, thankfully made of flesh and bone, aside as he slammed the door controls.

The door slid securely shut just as the thunderous clanking filled the corridor beyond, their lustful words of appreciation and encouragement nearly drowned out by the racket. Theron hadn’t bothered to look or count, but he was pretty sure that the number had risen from three in the scant moments it had taken Theron to dart from one corridor to the next.

He held up a hand to his lips as he turned to thank the person who had unwittingly provided his temporary salvation. The words of gratitude died on his lips, as he realized exactly who’s room he had sought refuge in.

For a moment, Theron truly considered surrendering himself to the lusty droid mob.

Draike Highwind’s face was caught somewhere between confusion and amusement, but the latter was winning out as he started to decipher individual phrases drifting in from the corridor. A dark brow arched higher, lips twitching with undisguised mirth as the stupid blue droid that had started this whole mess yelled once again about Theron being a master lover.

More seconds passed, the ruckus quieting down, before silence descended once more, and it was finally safe to speak.

“So,” Draike drew out the word, somehow lacing it with more innuendo than all of the malfunctioning droids combined, “what ya been doing, Shan?”

“Nothing!” he insisted, voice still hushed just in case one of the droids could somehow hear.

“Doesn’t sound like nothing.” His brother-in-law’s smirk widened into an almost feral grin, eyebrows waggling. “Sounds like you’ve been getting... busy.”

One of the greatest mysteries in the galaxy was how one man could make anything sound that dirty. “I was minding my own business!”

“Oh, I bet you were.”

“You’re having way too much fun with this.”

“I mean...” If looks could kill, the pilot would have melted on the spot. Unfortunately for Theron, Draike was apparently immune to that sort of thing. “How often do I get the chance?”

“Did you do this?”

“Me?” Draike let out a sharp bark of laughter. “Stars, I wish I could have thought of something this good! These are memories I will cherish forever.”

Theron massaged the bridge of his nose. “I hate my life.”

“I mean, I’m not really into droids,” Draike went on, either not knowing (or more likely caring) about his brother-in-law’s predicament, “flesh is more my kind of thing. But you know, if you and the little lady need to spice things up by bringing in a little metal--”

“Please stop. I’m begging you!”

“Begging, eh? So you’re saying you’re more into--“

“Forget it, I’m taking my chances with the sex-crazed machines roaming the halls.” His palm hovered over the door sensors.

“Theron, wait!” There was enough urgency in Draike’s voice to give him pause. “It’s dangerous out there, take this.”

At first, he was honestly afraid to look, expecting to be offered something like a condom or some other bad joke, but was surprised to see the other man holding out a stealth generator.

“To escape your fans.”

“That’s actually not a bad idea.”

“I know. I’m a genius.”

“I didn’t say that.” He quickly nabbed the stealth generator before Draike could change his mind and frowned at the initials carved in the side in Aurabesh. “Is this even yours?”

“Eh, close enough.”

Whatever, beggars couldn’t be choosers. Theron would deal with those potential repercussions later.  He flicked on the power to the stealth generator which let out a low, almost inaudible hum as a burst of life engulfed his form. He closed his eyes against the sudden burst of brightness, and when he opened them again, dark spots of the light pattern danced in his vision for a few seconds. He blinked a few more times before they faded away.

He waved an arm experimentally in front of his face, and only felt the slight movement of air. Draike didn’t seem to react at all, and that was probably good enough.

“Thanks,” he said, palming the sensor to the door.

Draike rolled his eyes and ambled out into the corridor, looking around with the air of a man all too used to hiding from those looking for him. Theron watched as he raised a hand to a very slowly moving GNK power droid.

“How’s it hanging?”

“GONK!” 

“Oh yeah? You don’t say! I think I saw him head that way.” Draike pointed in the direction leading to cantina. “Just between you and me, I heard he’s sweet on that droid who’s a comfort enthusiast.”

“GONK! GONK! GONK!”

Still hidden underneath the stealth field, Theron had to bite down the urge to make any noise of frustration and just turned an invisible, irritated gaze at the other man’s back. As if sensing Theron’s irritation, Draike just grinned wider.

“Yeah, you know how those spy types are. Always toying with droids’ hearts. You could do better than him.”

“GONK!”

“Oh, you spicy droid! Yeah, trundle off that way, big guy. I’m sure you’ll catch him!”

With a loud clanking, the GNK droid began his slow and steady journey towards the cantina. As the echoes finally faded, Draike casually stretched, pointing towards the direction of the War Room.

Theron skulked on by, but not before giving his brother-in-law a well deserved whop upside the head. The stealth field flickered momentarily on the physical contact before shimmering back into place.

“It’d serve you right to get caught by doing that,” Draike sniffed indignantly, “after all I’ve done to help you.”

“When all of this is over--”

“Hush now,” Draike waved at the air in front of him. “You have bigger problems to deal with. Meanwhile, I will be heading to the cantina. And definitely won’t be live-streaming any brawls breaking out over the Master Lover breaking droid hearts everywhere.”

Theron snorted out an annoyed breath, and checked his urge to trip Draike as he sauntered off, hands jammed into his pockets as he whistled a jaunty tune. Like the purloined stealth generator, he’d have to worry about slicing and corrupting any servers containing evidence of this mess after he figured out how to stop whatever this was from spreading any further.

The upside to this whole unfortunate side encounter, was that the stealth generator made it possible for him to quietly creep around any droids he passed in the corridor. Most seemed to be making a hasty exit for the cantina, almost as if word had spread of Drake’s false rumor about his and C2-N2’s torrid love affair and every heartbroken circuit was flocking in that direction now.

And when he thought about it like that, when exactly had this become his life? Oh, right. Like fifteen minutes ago. Or however long this nightmare had started. Time had sort of lost meaning, if he were being honest.

He managed to make it to the war room, undetected and unmolested, and quietly snuck his way towards the irritable blonde Sith, holding her head in her hands as if she were battling the world’s strongest migraine. As Theron approached the Sith, he could hear her muttering under her breath in frustration. He hesitated for a moment before clearing his throat, causing her to jerk her head up in surprise.

“Who’s there?”

“Quiet,” Theron hissed. “They might hear you.”

“Oh, for Sith’s sake,” she exhaled, “where in the blazes have you been?”

“Hiding,” he whispered urgently. “These droids have all gone haywire!”

“And who’s fault is that, I wonder.”

“Not me,” he insisted, “not this time!”

“Right,” she said sardonically, “and I suppose that’s why there isn’t a reality holoseries entitled ‘Programmed for Love’ currently being live-streamed in the cantina for the entire HoloNet to see.”

“Damn it, Draike!” Theron cursed. “I thought he was joking about that.”

“Of course. How did I not see that coming?” she muttered.

“I’ll slice in and scrub all of the servers after we figure out this... this... whatever this is?”

“Your insecurities laid bare in binary?” she suggested, oh so helpfully.

“Why did I come to you for help again?”

“Because--”

It was at that point, that a probe droid, currently speeding its way towards the cantina, happened to take notice of Lana talking to thin air, and veered off its intended trajectory, heading straight for Theron’s position near the back of the war room. If the loud alarms and flashing lights were any indication, it had been able to see through his stealth generator.

Wait... those weren’t alarm proximities it was flashing. As Theron watched its rapid approach, he couldn’t help but stare at it in dumb fascination, brow furrowing as he tried to make out the images it was projecting. If he didn’t know better, he’d almost say it was a bizarre mixture of Aurabesh and hologlyphs.

He squinted, just able to make out: “DX-98 🤖🔥 Analytical  Scanner 💋🙏 Okara Droid Factory 🔍🌌💕 Exobiology Research 🥵🍑 Top HoloFans 0.7%!”

Before he had a chance to process any of that, the droid was already upon him, pincher arms spreading wide to snap him up for some purpose far beyond its original programming. He only had milliseconds to react before the droid reached him, when an explosive force sent the droid flying backwards harmlessly, and had Theron landing ungracefully on his tailbone. The stealth field fizzled out with a pop on his impact with the ground.

A familiar figure landed between him and the droid, twin blue scarves billowing behind her dramatically, blonde ponytail swaying with the motion of her movement. A small frown of concentration bunched her forehead as his wife threw a concerned look in his direction.

“You requested rescue?” Grey asked.

“Ah, my knight in shining armor has arrived,” he quipped back.

“I am not wearing my armor.” The frown of concentration morphed into one of confusion.

“I--never mind.” He pushed himself to his feet, dusting off his hands. “Thank you for the timely intervention.”

She graced him with a hint of a smile and a bob of her head in acknowledgment. “Any time.”

“As touching as all of this is,” Lana broke in sourly, “it still doesn’t solve our larger problem.”

“Yeah,” Theron rubbed the back of his neck, “you’re not wrong. It sounds like this has spread across the entire base?”

“It appears that way,” Lana said tightly. “You know, you assured me that all of this had been taken care of the last time we dealt with this issue.”

“Hey now,” he bit back, “I’m a man of my word!”

She snorted at that. “Tell that to the Umbaran Transit Authority.”

“How are you still mad about that?”

“You tazed me!”

“Focus,” Grey said, eyeing the stunned probe droid warily. “If memory serves me correct, you had a program you deployed to revert the programming of the droids the last time this happened.”

“Yes, that’s what doesn’t make sense.” He watched as the holoprojectors on the downed probe droid flickered, hologlyphs flashing rapidly in the War Room’s dim light. “I programmed it to eliminate all trace of the offending code. The only way it could be reappearing now is if someone took one of the infected droids offline before I deployed...”

Lana arrived at the same conclusion right about the time that Theron did, picking up the thought. “I seem to recall a certain someone requesting you replicate your work for less-than-legal purposes.”

Theron angrily punched the button on his comm as he growled, “Gault!”

The Devaronian’s voice came back immediately, almost a little too suave. “Theron! What a surprise to hear your dulcet tones requesting my presence.”

“Gault,” Lana managed to keep some measure of calm, “are you responsible for this current situation?”

“What situation is that?” he asked far too innocently, even as a distant call of a droid’s clanking nearly drowned out it’s loud declaration of the presence of rust on one Theron Shan’s “bolt”. There was a moment of silence before he continued. “Oh! You mean the lustful droids currently running amok on the base?”

“I’m glad we’re on the same page,” Lana said dryly. “My original question stands.”

“I am shocked, shocked and scandalized that my name would be the first to come to mind! Might I remind you, it was one Miss Djannis who requested you create her a Shan Sexbot.”

“Yeah,” Kaliyo jumped in on the comms, clearly annoyed, the sound of metallic brawling nearly drowning out her voice, “I wanted it for hilarious crimes! Not whatever the fuck this is!”

“Gault,” a third voice, Hylo Visz, cut in. From the background noise, it seemed she was in the same location as Kaliyo. “I swear, if you don’t help us figure out how to stop this, when you’re not looking I’ll cut off your--”

“Okay, okay, geez!” He interrupted before his significant other could finish whatever that threat was. “Fine, it was me! I deactivated a droid before Theron uploaded his program.”

“Of course.” Lana rolled her eyes upwards, as if asking the Force for patience.

“In my defense,” Gault continued, “originally it was just to shut the stupid thing up! But then Kaliyo came up with that brilliant idea for the Shan Sexbot Distraction, and I thought, why not hold on to this beauty in case it came in handy for a con?”

The sound of Theron smacking his forehead in frustration echoed throughout the War Room.

“So you know, just had a fun idea come to me the other day, so I extracted the original programming and altered a few things, and tried to put it into a new droid for my plan.”

“Did that droid happen to be a blue medical monstrosity?” Theron was actively massaging his temples at this point.

“I will have you know,” Gault said, “that BL-U3 is a consummate professional. You would be lucky to have him perform a medical exam on you!”

“Yeah, that was definitely his intent,” Theron shot back. “Purely professional and not lecherous at all! Which was not in any of my code.”

“Hey, I never claimed to be very talented when it came to software programming. I may have made a mistake or two when altering your code.”

“May have?!”

“How was I supposed to know that the remnants of the Gemini Frequency code in our systems was going to work after the entire Eternal Fleet had gone offline and deploy your software STD to the entire network? Sue me!”

“I’m considering it!”

Before the mostly pointless argument could escalate any further, the sounds of metallic clanking from above, roughly from the location of the cantina, began to grow closer, the cacophony increasing in volume, until it sounded like it was coming in all directions.

“That is not a good sign,” Grey’s mutter was nearly lost to the noise.

“Hey,” Drake’s annoyed voice cut in over the comm, “my livestream is now officially ruined! I hope you’re all happy!”

“I’m afraid to even ask why,” Theron said.

“Oh, it seems all of my extremely eligible and single contestants heard your voice over the comms and abandoned challenging Seetoo Enntoo to unarmed droid combat for the right to court you, and are now all headed in your direction.”

“Oops.”

“Worry not Agent Shan,” the unusually warbly vocabulator of C2-N2 came over the comms, “I will not rest until I alone can provide you with the ultimate in comfort!”

“We should probably get a different housekeeping droid after this is all over,” he told his wife.

That seemed a lesser concern to Grey, as she had shifted into Alliance Commander mode, and was currently on the comms, shouting for every available member of the Force Enclave to get to the War Room as fast as possible to help hold off the incoming army of lustful droids.

Yeah, come to think of it, that was probably more important.

“We must use nonlethal force,” she stressed, giving a particularly severe look to Lana when she said that, getting a simple nonplussed shrug in return, “as we only need to hold the droids at bay until we can come up with a solution. They are not to blame for what’s happening.”

Theron begged to differ, but she was probably right in this case. The cost of repairing or replacing an entire base full of droids would be astronomical.

As Force users began to stream in and take up position around the room, the sound of wheels racing along the metal plating caught Theron's attention, and he looked over to see a familiar silver T7-series astromech racing into the room. He tensed up instinctively at the sight of a droid, as anyone would have in his situation.

“Teeseven!” Grey called out with a smile, clearly not as wary or droidshy.

The little astromech let out a friendly whistle and series of chirps in binary, that roughly translated to: “T7-01 = Safe! // Been off network entire morning!”

“Oh, what a relief,” she breathed, “I would have hated for you to be infected with this too!”

He let out another series of beeps: “T7-01 = still in possession of original antivirus code. // Can tweak it and upload to servers = Save the day?”

“I don’t know if that’s such a good idea,” Theron muttered.

“T7 = not scared!”

Grey’s expression melted into one of admiration and pride. “Teeseven, that’s incredibly brave -- but are you sure? Theron’s right, it could be very dangerous.”

“T7 = Jedi + Theron’s friend. // Helping > Risk!”

She looked at him and he returned the gaze with a small nod, realizing there wasn’t much in the way of choice. It was either that or let the droids overrun them. And then whatever happened when one of them actually got their hands on on Theron -- a prospect he wasn’t really that thrilled to explore right now.

“Fine,” he said tersely, “let’s do this!”

The two of them rushed over to the center console in the room, Theron pulling out his slicer spike as Teeseven plugged his scomplink arm into the main network terminal. The rest of their reinforcements from the Force Enclave arrived just in time and formed a ring around the two slicers. They managed to erect a large Force barrier just as the metallic clanging and clatter grew to a roar, announcing the arrival of the lecherous horde.

Near the front of the mob, Z0-0M threw up her arms in glee and excitement as she jumped to try and catch sight of her beloved. “There you are Agent Shan! You left before we could finish our conversation -- you were saying something about oxidation?”

“Interjection: Do not listen to this hussy, Theron! You and I will make sweet explosions together!”

Theron valiantly tuned them out as he took in a feed of the original antivirus code that Teeseven shared with him. Yes, this all looked correct. Unfortunately, he was going to need get a look to see how Gault had mutilated his beautiful original coding to know how to alter it.

Teeseven was two steps ahead of him, and a stream of code flashed across the HUD in his ocular implants. He watched in horror as he saw the butchery with his own two eyes.

“Gault, where the hell did you get this code?” he asked over the comms incredulously. “HornHub?”

“Excuse you, I only frequent the classiest places on the galactic communications grid, like HoloHump!” The growl of Gault’s name from a very angry Mirialan smuggler had him quickly adding. “You know, I’m just going to shut up and let you concentrate on what you’re doing.”

Teeseven, ever the valiant worker, ignored the conversation completely, and was hard at work running diagnostics on the altered code and the best way to modify the antivirus to address it. Theron watched the stream of letters and numbers fly across the HUD at lightning speed.

The little guy was good at what he did. He let out a flurry of beeps and whistles as almost the last piece of this very lurid puzzle started to fall into place. The little droid seemed to almost be singing along with the code as he wrote it, like a mechanical maestro conducting an orchestra. They were close, so close and--

The next whistle Teeseven let out was not his normal, cheerful way of communication, much lower in timbre and more seductive.

No.

Teeseven whirled his flat head around until his visual sensor faced Theron, and let out another wolf whistle, his holoprojector lighting up to proudly display: T7-01 🤖👀🔍 Observant 👁️🔭 Scanner 🔍🏞️ Tython 🌄👏 215 🍒♎ Repairing 👅🙈 Top HoloFans 3.6%

“What was that?” Grey shouted to be heard over the droids catcalling.

“No no no no,” Theron muttered, “we’re so close! Don’t do this to me, little buddy!”

“What happened to my precious baby boy?” Grey demanded, sweat trickling down the side of her face as she struggled to maintain the Force barrier.

Beyond the barrier, the rest of the porndroid army followed suit with Teeseven, all either wildly projecting their own series of hologlyphs and random facts about themselves and their planets of origins, while others struck disturbingly seductive poses, and a scant few demanded that “ShanDaddy” start a holocall with them in private.

With no time and no recourse left, Theron dove back into the system, yanking Teeseven’s unfinished code as he was nearly overwhelmed with lewd images and thirsty hologlyphs, struggling to finish and upload the code as the volume in the War Room rose to a crescendo just as the Force users’ began to fall, one after the other, their barrier weakening by the moment.

The overwhelming cacophony of hologlyphs, lewd poses, and robotic come-ons that had filled the War Room suddenly disappeared. All eyes turned to the droids as almost in unison, as they all powered down—a sign that their malware had been neutralized. Theron slumped back in relief, his work finally done.

Grey, Lana, and the others let out a long sigh of relief, the tension leaving their bodies in a rush.

“Thank the Force,” Grey murmured, sinking down to the ground. “I do not think I could have held that barrier much longer.”

Theron nodded, feeling a similar sense of exhaustion. He leaned back against the console, closing his eyes but was unable to banish the mentally scarring series of images that were probably permanently burned into his retinas.

“Remind me,” he said faintly, “to obliterate HoloHump’s servers. Once I’m done murdering Gault.”

“You act as if there will be anything left after I find him,” Lana said darkly.

“Remember everyone,” Grey spoke in her best and most official Alliance Commander voice, “murder is bad and frowned upon in the Official Alliance Employee Handbook.”

“Query: Why are we all in the War Room?” HK-55 asked as he came back online. “And more importantly, why is that blue meddroid manipulating its medical instruments into a heart shape, as if expressing affection towards the Commander?”

[autumnalmess]

Tumblr when I say I'm gonna post fanfiction:

Tumblr when I actually post fanfiction:

[mozart-the-meerkitten]

Mmm, yes, the Phineas and Ferb Marvel crossover episodes were better than Infinity War and Endgame.