#neurons aspect

[rubyharleylalonde]

combos i made for ocs!

lord of grudges (time+rage)

lord of rot (doom+life)

lord of pride (heart+breath)

lord of neurons (mind+time)

lord of radiance (void+hope)

lord of prosperity (hope+light)

all designed by @/superxstarzz!

[superxstarzz]

Helalo mcdonalds drive thru speaker id appreciate one (1) prince of time + mage of mind

and would you like fries or apple slices with that?

[stuck-in-the-ghost-zone]

as much as i am mentally unwell over tristamp rn... i think i will always prefer 98. this is weird coming from me because i am the guy whos favorite part of the entire series is weird plant biology and there is exactly 0 of that in trigun98 but at the same time like........ it just makes me so much happier to watch.

obviously the manga is objectively the best version of the story and i would kill for a beat by beat animated adaption of the manga (<<something i know is impossible) but i also have a hard time reading comics and cannot readily consume the manga as well as i can the animes

[marinecorvid]

on the endless list of things to do: work out scifi android/cyborg “nonexistent” govt agent who goes rogue and finds her way home to the desert beyond the broad strokes of it

[squipa]

and they called it puppy love

aka tim drakes lovesick obsession with you

———

tim drake didn’t really notice anyone when he went to uni. he was there to learn, not make friends. he was too busy for friends, anyways, so he never really tried. that was until he laid eyes on you.

you were in his advanced quantum physics class, loudly debating with some meathead about the correct answer to a question. he was tuned in, entirely unable to focus on his own work. you politely argued with the dumbass who tried to correct you that your answer was right (it was), and he couldn’t think about anything other than how perfect your voice sounded against his ears.

he nearly failed that class— not because he found it particularly difficult, because he couldn’t stop staring at you. he tried not to be creepy, looking away the moment your eyes even dared to meet his. he was memorizing everything about you, the way you played with your hair while you spoke, the way you smiled to yourself whenever you got a correct answer on the homework, how you were too quiet to raise your hand but always offering the answers to the people around you.

he couldn’t get you out of his head, and as much as he tried to deny himself of you, he was obsessed. he switched to the empty seat behind you, close enough to smell your shampoo, and watch the tabs you scrolled through mindlessly on your computer while the professor lectured. he took note of everything. if you bought a book, he’d read it overnight on the off chance you spoke to him. played an album on your spotify? he’s listening to the artist’s entire discography. he even bought a blind box of sonny angels when he watched you debate buying them for thirty minutes.

you’re the one who talks to him first, and god, did it make his year. “hey,” you said, smiling up at him. he hopes you didn’t notice the red that spread from his cheeks to his chest, burning the tips of his ears. “i think you dropped your water bottle.” you say, handing a transparent blue bottle back to him. it’s not his. he’s eternally grateful. he babbles some nonsense back to you, memorizing the way your eyes look when they’re focused on his. you give a kind smile and turn back to your work, completely unbothered while he can feel his heartbeat in his ears.

you opened the gates with that comment— now he finds any excuse to talk to you. yes, he needs help understanding the material. yes, he wants to know what the office hours are for the professor. obviously he’s obsessed with the band on your shirt, and he can’t believe you like it too.

he’s very left-brained. he wants to know everything thing about you, what makes you smile and what makes you mad. he wants to know what makes every neuron fire, what makes you tick. he wishes he could crack open your skull and dig around in your brain to better understand you, to know every aspect of why you are the way that you are. but, since he can’t do that, he does the second best thing and hacks into your phone.

it isn’t invasive, or weird. he just wants to know more about you— you’d understand. he goes through your texts, social medias, gradebook, notes app, bank statements, everything. when he realizes you’re broke, he anonymously pays your tuition under the guise of a scholarship. he’ll show up at your work (a coincidence, of course) and shove a hundred dollar bill in the tip jar when your back is turned. he just wants to take care of you. he slips your favorite snacks into your backpack when you go to the bathroom, doordashes your favorite foods to your dorm when you forget to eat— anything he can do for you, he will.

he broke into your dorm, not to do anything malicious, he just wanted to see how you live. he’s sickened by how easy it was to break the lock, and sent a work order immediately to update security. around your room, he took little things, stuff you wouldn’t miss, sticky note doodles and hair ties. he took note of all of the pieces of you around him, the soap you use, the games stacked on your desk, the makeup piled on the sink. he just likes knowing the intimate, little things about you.

don’t get him started on the pictures. he’s got hundreds— you in class, walking on the courtyard, at work, out with friends, driving around, whatever. he flips through them every night, studying every detail like a textbook and looking for new ones. he loves learning you, focusing in on every detail, putting together every piece of every puzzle.

he gets enraged when he sees any man talking to you, bothering you. he hates the way they can make you laugh where he can’t, that they’re bolder than he is around someone as delicate as you. he needs to be gentle, careful. he shoots death glares at any man who takes your attention for too long, making sure to block them on all of your social medias preemptively in case they try to annoy you again.

he practically has an aneurysm when he catches you walking home from work alone at night. it’s gotham, you can’t possibly think it’s safe, even on campus. lucky you, red robin is there to watch from the shadows, making sure you get home safe and sound. he slips a pepper spray bottle in your bag the next day.

you two become something of friends when he asks you to help him study. suddenly, all of his classes are on the way to yours, so obviously it makes sense to walk with you. listening to you talk— it’s the sweetest sound he could imagine. you tell him things (most of which he already knows) about your life, and constantly invite him to share his. you’re so kind, you never roll your eyes or get annoyed at his awkwardness around you, you only smile and nod until he finds his point. you’re filled with endless empathy, you find a reason to sympathize with anyone, regardless of how rude they may have been. your roommates boyfriend with a staring problem? he must just be nervous around someone so close to his girlfriend. the guy who grabbed your shoulder in class (who got a lesson taught to him by red robin that night)? probably had just been trying to get your attention for awhile.

he’s absolutely infatuated. he has your entire schedule memorized, he knows the hospital you were born in and your high school gpa. he fantasizes about a future with you, one where you love him a fraction as much as he loves you. one where he can spoil you and protect you and have you all to himself.

he spends hours in front of the mirror, practicing what he’ll say to you in the hallway when he finally asks you out. he needs to be casual, like you’re not the only thing he thinks about, but not nonchalant, because he cares more than you know.

he fails spectacularly.

“would you, uh, y’know, i was wanting to, uh… i have movie tickets, and i’d buy you dinner, uh… like a date?”

your little giggle kills him. you should refuse him, turn away and never speak to him again, he deserves it.

“i’d like that. saturday?”

once you start dating, it’s over, he’s over the moon every day. he doesn’t need an excuse to walk you to and from class, or home from work, or pick you up after a night out (where he totally wasn’t watching, lurking in the corner to make sure nobody bothered you), because that was his job. it’s not weird that he sits in the cafe you work at throughout your entire shift; acting like a personal bodyguard. nights when you’re too exhausted to see him, he watches from your window, just observing the way your chest rises and falls.

he kisses you over and over, memorizing how good you taste against his lips. he’d constantly press himself into you, or warm your hands in between his, or tuck his arm neatly against yours. anything to stay close to you. even the slightest shiver and his jacket is over your shoulders, and god forbid you’re out shopping, because he refuses to let you pay a thing, or hold a single bag. he’ll randomly send you money to get your nails done, or buy a book you want. multiple times he’s told you he’d take care of you if you quit your job, but you always refuse. he loves that about you, but wishes you’d let him do more.

he doesn’t even think about the possibility of you leaving him. because truly, it’s impossible. he won’t allow it, he’ll be attentive, caring, and the absolute perfect boyfriend, so the thought won’t even cross your mind. he knows everything about you, exactly what you want and exactly what you need. he loves you more than anything, and his only job is to take care of you, keep you safe and warm and happy for as long as you live.

he adores you, practically worships you. this isn’t puppy love, it’s pure and true and he intends for it to last forever.

[mezz-merizing]

i think a lot about the "brain hacking" aspect of mind control

i don't just mean tech control and brain chips and stuff, although those are super fun!! but it's more like... the idea that you can exploit the human brain is just. on my mind frequently imagine if one day we discovered a visual pattern or something that could totally hijack your mind. like it just tickled all the right neurons that it triggered some sort of cascade and broke you wide open, leaving you suggestible and pliant

i think a major reason this is on my mind so often is because it's the sort of thing that would be LITERALLY impossible to resist. like what are you gonna do?? for a psychological process you can struggle, hold out, fight, but for a neurological process you just. snap. gone. there's also this clinical aspect to it, where you're sort of treated like a machine; a bundle of neurotransmitters that can be sparked in a way that's just proper, and then reprogrammed

so basically i just get sooo weak when inductions use this kind of language. even if it's complete nonsense it just!! it calls forth this imagery when a spiral is described not just as a focus but as a stimulator or something like that, and when its mechanism is described. hell, it doesn't even have to go for the neurological stuff- isn't it really really hot and squirm inducing when you're being TOLD how you're being hypnotized? like the opposite of covert stuff, when the hypnotist is just calmly explaining to you all the complex things they're doing to your mind and you're just too zoned out to even clock that you're being put under control

(also hi!! i'm posting again :D thanks to everyone who's still hanging around ily!! send me asks abt things and i'll have fun answering them!!)

[ckret2]

@space-bowl Hi you didn't ask for an essay on this! But I happen to have a detailed headcanon, canon citations, and a piece of art I'm currently eager to procrastinate on so I wrote one anyway!

I base the headcanon that Bill isn't a very good artist on the canonical self-portraits he makes in Journal 3 while possessing Ford:

That looks like the Euclidean equivalent of stick figures to me. I'm not impressed by his artistic prowess.

We know he didn't smuggle out the book he's working on in Theraprism. The Theraprism staff says "you have been contacted through this book against our rules" and includes a photo of Bill working on the journal—if the book was in their hands when they spied him working on it and confiscated it to write a letter in it, then they wouldn't have let it leave the Theraprism. So TBOB is already outside Theraprism when the staff finds Bill making contact with the readers. Plus Ford already knows TBOB exists at the beginning of the book—meaning it was already out in the world before Bill's death.

And so: the book Bill's working on in Theraprism is a different book, through which he (and then the staff) is making psychic contact with TBOB and manipulating TBOB's contents. TBOB never came into Theraprism, and the book Bill was working on in arts & crafts never left Theraprism.

And he SAYS at the start of the book he's manipulating TBOB's contents remotely. When he describes what the book contains, right beside the table of contents, one of the items is:

"Paper" made from pressed, pureed human brain matter. I can invade anything with neurons, so I can project anything I want in here!

In the photo of him working on his end of this TBOB tin-can-telephone, he's beaming his thoughts straight from his mind onto the page (and, presumably, through that page to our page):

On top of that, note what his supplies are: paper, scissors, tape, and glue. We see a clipped-out picture and bits of paper pasted into the journal. He only has one black marker, no other drawing/coloring materials. The journal Bill's making in Theraprism isn't a sketchbook: it's a scrapbook.

And the one time we see Bill deliberately focus on the graphic design aspect of the book, the end result is...

Graphic Design Is My Passion-looking ass.

So here's what I believe: the contents of The Book Of Bill are made up half of a collage of cut-up papers and pictures Bill pasted into his end of the book (magazine pages, textbook pages, newspaper clippings, chapter 2 of The Great Gatsby, etc) and then psychically altered the text of to suit his needs; and half of images that Bill projected straight from his mind onto the pages without needing to actually do any art (such as every time Bill himself pops onto the page to talk directly to the reader).

Still requires a little graphic design work on his end; but if he's largely just slapping down pages of somebody else's completed graphic design work, that takes a lot of the required skill out of it. Definitely doesn't require him to know how to draw.

[ovaryacted]

Even though I know it’s all intentional, I truly hate how we’ve become forced to normalize AI. I do think that the manufacturing of Artificial Intelligence was not done with malicious intent and has the capabilities of actually doing good, but time and time again ai is being used in literally everything for the worst reasons and getting its getting harder to escape.

From AI being used to scrape people’s hard work all over the internet, to giving predators and abusers more power in fabricating porn of strangers, to being used to strengthen racial bias in surveillance technology and aid in the development of weapons of war and mass destruction against marginalized groups of people…it’s just too fucking much. It’s so exhausting wanting to live in a world where we just didn’t need or have any of this shit, and it wasn’t like this a few years ago either. But now you can’t step outside without seeing something about AI, or a promotional ad for a new system to install. You can’t engage online anywhere without coming across AI software, and literally every single device in our present day implements AI to some degree, and it’s so fucking annoying.

I don’t want to keep worrying about the next idiot that’s spoon feeding my work into their AI system because they lack humanity and imagination. I don’t want to have to manually turn off AI detection on all of my apps and my phone just to use something. I shouldn’t have to be more mindful about the media I consume to distinguish whether or not it’s original or just more AI slop. I know it’s all intentional since we live in a hyper-capitalist world that cares more about profit margins & rapid productivity. But I really do vehemently hate how artificial intelligence has become such a fundamental aspect of our day to day lives when all it does is make the general population dumber and less capable of thinking for themselves.

Sincerely fuck AI. And if you use AI, I really do suggest you read up on how the data centers built to manage these AI systems suck up all of our resources for a simple prompt input. Who cares about answering a question in ChatGPT, entire communities don’t have water because they’re too busy cooling down the servers where people ask what 6 + 10 is cause their brains are so fried they can’t fire a single fucking neuron.

[cult-of-the-rizz]

I was talking to my bestie @cultoftheswag on vc and the neurons started firing after watching the sin cutscene, so, theories on secondary aspects of each crown (long post) (maybe insane sounding and barely readable):

This all started off as theorizing that the sin snake is actually the being inside the crown (not a god but more like the crown is sentient) that has finally woken due to lamb's accumulated power. Expanding on that theorizes all crowns have a sentience, but based on this line, not all of the crown bearers awakened their crowns:

Bestie (Swag) pointed out that the only other crown with 2 aspects was the purple crown, Shamura, who has both war and knowledge. With the previous theory, it means that Shamura awakened their crown and brought forth the secondary domain; knowledge.

Which leads me to the brain worm thought of "what are the other crown's secondary aspects?" Well.

Lock the fuck in cuz I did

Each crown has 2 aspects that follow the same pattern:

The primary aspects of green, yellow, blue and purple are all sub categories of the red crown (chaos, famine, disease and war all bring death) and the same can be said for the mirrored aspect (order, abundance, health and peace all bring life)

There is also a pattern in the primary aspects of 4 being solid events (famine, disease, war, death AND order, abundance, health, life) and one conceptual (chaos and peace)

With this in mind, all secondary aspects might be sub categories of the red crown's secondary aspect, sin. Except, knowledge isn't a sin, so like what the fuck, right? Ok but what if I told you that knowledge isn't the sinful aspect of the purple crown, but the opposite of it.

The sin snake mentions being able to control and use the sins of your followers and that you alone, as their god, is capable of forgiving them or letting them be taken over by sin. This would mean that the mirror aspect of sin would be absolution. If the purple crown's aspect of knowledge isn't the sin, then knowledge is the path of absolution of a sin. A sin like deceit and deception.

This still doesn't bring me any closer to figuring out the other crowns but I will not be defeated. Upon a little bit of shallow research, there appears to be the concept of mortal sins in Christianity/Christo aligned faith. Excluding the seven deadly sins from the list of mortal sins and anything faith related (because it would be pointless if a crown's sin power was to make you not believe in your god. Like, that would suck. It would kill the crown's own cult which which bishop derives their power from.)

That leaves the following aspects: murder, adultery and theft. Since Shamura's secondary aspect is confirmed to be knowledge, the mirror aspect has to be deceit even though it is not a named mortal sin. Though, I'm fairly certain lying and being untruthful would generally be considered a sin in most religious settings.

All three fall into the same pattern as the primary aspects:

Murder, adultery, theft, deceit are all forms of sin, while the opposite aspects, repentance, loyalty, charity and knowledge are all ways to absolve or correct those sins. The red crown still holds dominion over the others.

Murder, adultery, theft and deceit/ repentance, charity, knowledge and absolution are solid events where sin and loyalty are conceptual aspects.

So now onto who has what, which secondary aspects belong to which crown. This is just my working theory but after thinking about it for a while, I think I have it.

Leshy/ the green crown has the primary aspect of chaos/order and secondary aspect of murder and repentance. Though Leshy may not have awakened his crown to learn this, it would makes sense if Darkwood cultists remembered that murder is favored by the green crown. Hence why Darkwood is so incredibly full of bodies plastered ritualistically on trees.

Heket/ the yellow crown has the primary aspect of famine/abundance and the secondary aspect of adultery and loyalty. Idk how to describe it, but something about abundance feels like it would fit well with adultery, like the overconsumption and joy of prosperity leading to immorality, resulting in a punishing famine that forces loyalty upon Anura's denizens.

Kallamar/ the blue crown has the primary aspect of disease/health and the secondary aspect of theft and charity. We all KNOW Kallamar was not charitable ok. Anchordeep's temple was said to be beautiful and covered in opulent crystals and gold. He may have acted charitable to his devoted followers but in a "ooooh I'll give your struggling village a beautiful crystal statue of me to pray to, isn't that nice?" kind of way.

Though, neither Leshy, Heket or Kallamar successfully awakened their crowns, I feel like the aspects would still be a part of their domains and personalities. Even Narinder may not have been able to awaken his crown, but due to the fact that he was imprisoned and weakened through lack of faith powering the crown (credit to Swag who said this as I'm typing this whole post live on discord) (Swag says hi!!!!!)

Also as a side note, maybe the other crowns manifest as objects related to their other aspect. Clearly the red crown is a snake cuz, sin, but perhaps Shamura's would a divine book or if we stayed with the animal theme, an owl. (shoutout to me and swag losing our shit over "leshy's is a glock" and "kallamar's are airpods cuz they're overpriced and always get stolen")

This was not part of my original theory, but it came to mind joking about Kallamar's divine blue crown airpods, but what if Narinder's damage to his siblings is what kept the other three from awakening their crowns? Like, it damaged them as vessels of their crowns enough they were no longer seen as worthy to awaken them. That would make Narinder a huge bitch but what else is new tbh.

[r0-boat]

Helloo, can you do marbas NSFW alphabet next? thanks so muuch

I love doing alphabets so much

Marbas NSFW Alphabet

Cw: daddy kink??? (he really likes to take care of you), kidnapping, bondage.

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

Marbas will kill a fucker if he here's any devil that doesn't do aftercare after sex. he doesn't care how gentle he fucks you. You👏get👏aftercare👏👏👏

Sometimes you even get carried away, like eating you out then checking for bruises as if His tongue assaulted more than just your dick/pussy. Let's just say he's a little too excited to take care of you.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

Your legs. He gets a neuron activation when he The ropes he ties you with squeeze just enough for your thighs to bulge slightly.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

He likes to paint your body with his cum so then he can have the excuse of taking a shower with you.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

He wants to tied up, chained down whatever. He wants to keep you as his little prisoner as he dots and takes care of you despite the ropes and chains. You won't even know that he's holding you captive.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

Yes, He is a professional after all.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

Any position that's good with any kind of bondage he almost exclusively uses.

And any position where his hand could easily reach the whatever that's binding you to tug loosen or fasten whatever he sees fit.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

No, unless you're speaking you're safe word you better not joke with him or else he'll just gag you.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

He shaves almost daily.

But when he is in shaved, when he's so busy he doesn't have time You can see a little happy line beginning to grow

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

He doesn't see himself as a romantic guy, He doesn't really overthink on over the top romantic gestures especially during sex, However pampering you is a different story

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

Ever since He hasn't met you his hand no longer does it for him... And it's frustrating because he's always so pent up from his job and his mind running wild with the most filthiest thoughts of you on your knees for him.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

He loves roleplay especially when he's playing a caretaker role because It feels so natural to take care of you.

Heavy bondage in any kind of restraints? Yes please!

Has a guilty pleasure for chastity.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

He prefers doing it in the bedroom but he can be easily persuaded to do it anywhere EXCEPT His place of work no matter how tempting you are; it's fun to watch him short circuit when he sees you and cute nurse outfits or handsome doctor coats. Just to take you home and absolutely destroy you.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

Seeling you wearing anything tight! Anything that hugs your body juuust right. Leaving nothing to the imagination.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

If he can't pamper you after sex then he's not going to fuck you. Aftercare it's the second best part of sex for him after all.

He will leave you bitten and bruised choke you and spit on you but if he can't rush to give you a glass of water kiss you on the forehead and run his fingers through your hair as he dabs any wounds with a q-tip soaked in rubbing alcohol then he's not going do it.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

He rather be giving than receiving. I'd rather be the one to make you shudder shake and scream underneath him. He rather be the one to restrain you to watch you squirm and struggle underneath your restraints as your cum floods his mouth. But that doesn't mean he doesn't like when the opposite is true when he feels leather tight on his skin as your warm wet mouth milk him dry.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

He likes to start off slow and sensual, before treating you like a fuck doll.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

(Read the letter N)

He's about 50/50 on quickies...

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

Of course! Happy to experiment! Especially if it's something you want to do to him. Especially if it's bondage of any kind

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

Despite being a devil he actually tries not to go exceed your limit unless you ask him. After both of you finish he still wants more But you will always come first in his eyes.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

Yes! Fuck yes! Stuffing your poor hole full with a vibrator while your tight up where you have no choice but to accept his cock in your mouth.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

As much as he likes to tease, he's not cruel, all you have to do is beh in that sweet voice of yours and he'll give anything you want.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

He's loud, and he's embarrassed that he struggles to stifle his moans.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

Marbas Has a collection of different types of ropes, hand cuffs, and bindings he's itching to try. His favorite to use is ribbons, it makes you look like a cute little present all for him to eye-fuck.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

Monster cock... Aaaah! like same size as Lucifer, thick and vainy too, thick and tight balls.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

Very, he just doesn't show it. He yearnes for your body so much it hurts. His mind filled with images of your lewd face and plans of what he can do to you.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

Nope aftercare comes first and waits for you to fall asleep.

[archerdepartures116]

Ur dec 20 announcement post… Pet Cafe AU?? Yes plsss i would like to know more

Also I love ur art sm!! Liu Qingge is my favorite and ur content fuels me

thank you!! The Pet Cafe AU really only started cause I saw that the BaiTu Tang had the same pingying spelling as Bai Zhan and my neurons rubbed together and went "wait Bai Zhan,,, BaiTu,,,, what if I made LQG a bunny and it all spiraled off from there (so incase anyone wants to know why hes a bunny instead of any other animal, theres ur answer lol)

Here's some tidbits about this AU

In the AU, SY and SQH run the pet cafe together, funded by Shen Yuan's parents (only the initial starting costs tho as SY has refused further financial help) and supportive of this business since it give their son something to do (chronically online and kinda sickly)

They're also animal lovers and see that it's helping animals who have either been abandoned or rescued (why they're not being sent to the zoo is for plot reasons ok HEAR ME OUT)

SQH came up with the idea to make the pet cafe themed around the CQM folktale

Business is doing quite well as the variety of animals getting quite well along with each other sparks intrigue and people want to visit to see them in person

Shen Yuan has a degree in zoology and takes care of most of the caring for the animals, SQH has an accounting degree and takes care of running the more technical aspects of the cafe (although they obviously have a mix of tasks)

Lastly, I might be drawing bun-qingge more than the other animals cause I have a bunny myself and he's basically an hopping reference for bunny anatomy lmao

[conceptofjoy]

all the aspects got cool visual cues

heart has the COOL LIGHTNING

mind has the NEURONS

time has SUPERIMPOSED TIME KEEPING PNGS

life has the BEAM

light has the BEAM

void has the

[angellicxx]

Ricochet- Chapter 6: Guarded Benjamin "Dex" Poindexter x Vigilante Reader summary: Still in recovery, you find yourself meeting with Ivan in a daze- unsure if the figure in the corner is real or a threat. warnings: blood, drugs mention, hangover

a/n: (N/N) means nickname taglist: @blxckwidxxw

w.c: 2,700

Your hangover was brutal.

Honestly, you were surprised you even woke up at all. Visions still flickered in your blended brain, neurons firing into your skull so fast you couldn’t do anything but try to fall back to sleep and burrow deeper in your mattress to escape the buzzing noise of the awakening city.

You spent the entire morning sprawled under layers of soft, cotton sheets to block the piercing early light from your window, but even then, the left over glitter still managed to reflect directly into your bloodshot eyes. You couldn’t sleep no matter how tight you shut them, no matter how much your trembling body writhed for comfort, every time you closed them— you saw him.

Always lurking in that infrared dark behind your heavy eyelids, you could’ve sworn he was haunting you.

You couldn’t get Dex out of your mind.

The paranoia mixed with drugs only fueled a really fun terror you couldn’t shake— clutching deeper into your blankets, you were on edge all day expecting the FBI or Volchiy henchman to break down your door and shoot you right where you slept. If the O’Connells hadn’t ratted you out by now, it wouldn’t be long until Dex pieced together you were the voice on the comms who called it in. And, of course, there was still the idea he saw you in the alleyway. He probably sensed you. Felt you watching him from the dark, lingering on the fire escape like a guilty, drugged moron.

But you knew that was irrational, since if he had seen you he would’ve put a bullet in you immediately.

Teeth burrowed into your pillow, trying to add pressure to your throbbing head where you couldn’t reach.

You were the worst vigilante ever.

The only actual progress you had made in the past few days was becoming a member in a Russian gang, getting knocked out with a still present and piercing concussion, a near overdose, and over a dozen missed calls from Matt. The most infuriating part was the fact you were so close to actually accomplishing your little infiltration scheme if you hadn’t been so rudely interrupted—twice.

You let your bruised jaw relax from the memory of getting it jammed into your skull, the glove of the man in the mask still striking the tender skin.

At least it was better than a stab wound.

Not only did you have to worry about a fellow masked vigilante, but now an undercover fed gripped by Fisk’s control lingering around the Volochiy. Both aspects of your investigation were now compromised—on the street and in the base of operations, with bad guys lingering behind every dent you made.

An exhausted grunt of frustration burned into your mattress.

You wanted both of them dead.

By the time it was dark enough for your head to not throb from every ray of light that burned into your eyes, you had sobered up enough to move and think clearly.

Of course, not clearly enough— since you gained consciousness walking down a hall in the back of Berezka. You shook the disorientation from your head, though you were still unsure at how you even got here, while you tried to follow in a semi-balanced manner behind Oleg.

You had never gone to Ivan’s penthouse on the fourth floor. The route seemed to stretch on endlessly, but you appreciated the warm dim lighting reflecting off the burgundy walls hallway and quiet seclusion away from the busy, loud restaurant level during peak hour. Your eyes wandered over the sprawling pattern on the carpet runner, wondering if it was actually moving with you while you walked. You came out of hypnosis at a foyer, the sound of Oleg knocking on the dark oak door waking you up.

You made it inside, feeling worse when the scent of smoke swelled through your dried blood coated nose. Dark oak bookshelves lined the walls as a fire blazed in the red bricked hearth, the only original part of the room that hadn’t been lavishly furnished in art deco revival. Ivan sat sprawled in an velvet armchair in the middle of the lounge smoking a cigarette and examining a paper.

“(Y/N)s here for you, Boss.” Oleg announced.

Ivan’s tattooed neck rose as he looked to see you lingering at the doorway. “(N/N)! Come on in, make yourself at home!” He beamed as he beckoned you to join him. You shot a kind smile, the nickname from when you were younger calming you down for a second. Oleg waved goodbye and closed the door, sealing you inside as you stepped forward.

You felt relaxed.

Everything was fine. If Ivan asked about the O’Connells, you would tell him about your discovery, deflect the blame to the other new guy. How could he get mad at his friend from childhood— little (N/N).

You took an inhale through your mouth, each step grounding you further—when a movement caught your blurred eyes.

Your breath caught in your throat, all sense of security shattering in a stumbled step.

He was already watching you.

Arms crossed, carved from shadow where he against the wall, unmoving as stone. It was unnerving how much you only saw him in the dark— how perfectly he belonged in it.

Dex never blinked, never shifted— just stared.

His gaze stayed locked on you like a chain, inescapable and heavy, even while you eased onto the sophisticated green velvet sofa across from Ivan, watching you adjust your posture into the stiff fabric.

You swallowed, a drip of blood sinking down the back of your throat from the flesh burned raw by chemicals.

Ivan took a swig of his crystal glass and smothered the cigarette in an ashtray, beginning to talk about his day like you were the only listener here. He rambled on about nothing like it was important.

Like anything mattered when you were too busy distracted by the silhouette preying on you from across the room. You couldn’t even hear what Ivan was saying as your blood thundered in your ears, anxiety pounding your stomach so fast you could hardly breath.

He shouldn’t be here.

You forced a hollow smile and stared at the rambling drunk, trying to ground yourself—but your gaze kept drifting, watching Dex from the edge of your vision, his motionless form looming in the near dark. You began to consider the drugs hadn’t fully worn off— that you were imaging things.

That he really was haunting you.

Ivan clapped, pulling you back, “Alright, now to business.” He smiled, rubbing his hands together as he nestled into the couch.

You stopped, looking at him. “Shouldn’t we talk in private?”

Ivan blinked. “Huh?”

You exhaled slowly, almost wishing he would laugh it off— say you were being crazy, that no one else was there.

He scanned the room— searching for what you meant, before turning around and casually acknowledging Dex.

“Oh, him?” he said, pointing like you could have meant someone else.

“Don’t worry— he’s good. Poindexter, you’ve met (Y/N) before, haven’t you?”

“Yes sir.” His voice was low and even, a calculate calm that made your nerves burn.

His eyes flickered to yours. “Hello, (Y/N).”

Fury erupted through your pained body at your name leaving his mouth.

“Hi.” You forced through clenched teeth as stared right back at him, fingers digging into your knee.

“A security precaution.” Ivan reassured. “Mr. Fisk decided it was best I had some protection.” He said so certain, like it never crossed his mind it could be an obvious attempt of constant surveillance.

“How kind of him.” You muttered.

“Yeah, guess I’m just that important. Y’know, that reminds me—”

You cut him off before the rambling could spiral. “I’m sorry Ivan, but why did you call me here? Is this about my assignment?” Before you could begin blurting an excuse as to why you had it ripped from beneath you, Ivan tilted his head.

“Assignment?” He repeated, almost amused. “I didn’t give you an assignment.”

You blinked at him. “The O’Connells.”

His eyes lit up. “Oh, ha!” He hit his palm to his forehead like he was the one who reminded himself. “Forgot about them. We don’t have to worry about them anymore— Fisk had it taken care of.”

Out of the corner of your eye you saw Dex’s smug smirk, his shoulders rolling like he was proud of himself—like he wanted you to know. You clenched your teeth, not giving him the satisfaction of looking over.

“How did he take care of it?” you asked, voice flat.

“Uhhh, I don’t know.” Ivan shrugged, casually. “Probably sent a guy to raid them or something.”

You breathed. At least Fisk kept Ivan in the dark.

“It was me, sir.” Dex said smoothly from the shadows. Your heart dropped.

“Huh, really?” Ivan lifted an eyebrow, resting his arm on the top of the chair’s back as he twisted around, a grin cracking. “Well, thank you, Poindexter! Its like your first day here and you’re already making a mark! Clean work too— I didn’t even hear about it. Really covert.”

Of course he had to take the credit. Wipe the convicting evidence clean.

You sunk into the rough velvet, scratching against your numbed skin. You doubted Ivan would even care if you blurted about the FBI— if Dex didn’t kill you before you left the room. Your eyes drifted to him, disbelief and hate seething in your trembling hands.

He smiled at you.

“I’m gonna miss them though, my Frost collection is probably going to run out soon.” He turned back to you. “You should try some— that shit is crazy.”

“Is it?” You said, voice sharp, sniffling back the reignited nose bleed as it trickled down your strained throat.

Ivan spaced out for a second, probably fantasizing about the Frost before snapping back and looking at you. “Well, I guess everything’s all good then. Thank you for coming (Y/N).”

The adjournment of the meeting brought very little relief. You pushed yourself off the couch, defeat swelling from how everything had gone wrong— especially with Ivan only making it worse the moment you stood up.

“Dex, could you be so kind to show (Y/N) out? I don’t want all those drunkards eyeing her down there.”

You stopped, eyes wide, “Oh, its alright Ivan. I know my way out.” Your eyes flickered to Dex, hoping he wouldn’t see how terrified you felt.

“Please?” Ivan pouted. “It would make me feel better. Besides, best you two got to know one another— both new to the business and all— you could help each other out. You don’t mind Poindexter, right?”

You couldn’t even find the strength to object, Dex had already stepped out of the shadows, eyes locking onto yours as he passed by. “Of course. It’s no problem at all.”

Dread poured through you, blood pooled in your stomach from swallowing so much of it.

“Goodbye, get home safe!” Ivan called as you walked away, head low as you offered a defeated farewell.

Dex pushed open the door and held it open for you. “C’mon, let’s go (N/N).”

“Don’t call me that.” You hissed, brushing past him into the foyer, not waiting for him as you headed down the familiar corridor.

You could sense him behind you— hands in his coat pockets, every movement calm and deliberate like he had nowhere better to be. He kept even strides behind you down, only a few paces back and in tune with your own.

The hall seemed even longer now, darker, the wood-paneled walls and stretch of carpet gleaming faintly under the dim sconces. It didn’t help that you were alone, every movement watched by the man behind you.

“What can I call you?” He asked, voice low.

The walls burned a darker shade of red. “Don’t call me anything. Don’t talk to me, just— leave me alone.” You wiped a drip of blood off your lip, hoping he didn’t see.

His stride didn’t falter. “Sorry, I gotta follow the boss’s orders.”

You scoffed. “Ivan’s your boss? I thought it was Fisk.”

“My orders were to listen to Ivan.” He said plainly, unbothered by your subtle contempt.

You rolled your eyes, striding faster to reach the end of the hallway, staying in silence during the aggravatingly long journey until you reached the end where the shadows gathered thicker, pooling at the stairs.

Your wobbly knees bounced down each step, weakening as you descended each level, but the relief was already washing over you— so close to getting the hell out of here and escaping Dex.

You hit the corner landing of the last floor, light from the restaurant and faint clatter of glasses and chatter welling louder. But right before you could turn to the the last set of steps, Dex broke the silent peace.

“You’re welcome for the O’Connells, by the way.”

You fell cold.

He didn’t even look at you when he said it—like it was just a casual remark. He continued his stride, only faltering when you spun to grab his shoulder, shoving his back into the wall. Fists curled into his jacket collar, the tension that welled up through out the night lit like a fuse by his arrogant provocation.

Despite his towering height he didn’t seem to fight back, letting you trap him in.

“Relax, (N/N).” Dex looked down at you, almost amused by your fit of anger, “We’re on the same side here.”

The hilt of the knife in your pocket jabbed into your hip bone, begging for you to pull it out and darken the already crimson walls.

“What do you mean?” You seethed, paranoia welling deep inside from his taunt.

Dex blinked, almost like he was confused. “I though I was doing you a favor.”

“I don’t want favors from you, Dex. I want you out of my way.” You seethed, hoping he didn’t catch you double meaning.

He didn’t say anything.

He looked at you, that same unsettling stare—calm and piercing— the one that made you feel exposed, even though you were the one pinning him against the wall.

You snapped your gaze away, suddenly aware you had been staring back too long. Your eyes flickered down, catching on your hand around his collar, a speck of glitter on your skin still stained from the night before. You shoved yourself off of him, pulling your hands to you sides to wipe the evidence before he noticed, striding down the final steps and leaving him dumbfounded against the wall.

Smoke and brighter lights hit your face as you steeped into the voice-filled restaurant. It all felt like a dream, as you weaved through the crowded tables of drunk ruffians, too disoriented to care as a few heads turned to watch you storm past.

You were so close, fingers almost brushing the brass on the door to freedom, when an hand wrapped around your bicep, tight.

“Wait, just-” Dex’s hand whipped you around, his grip firm, expression shadowed with something like worry. He closed his mouth, swallowing the words he wanted to say. “At least let me call you a cab.”

Annoyance was consuming you, disdain for his false concern conjuring into your tone. “I’m fine.”

His dark eyes pleaded. “It’s late.”

Your brows furrowed, your hatred overshadowed by an off-settling disturbance. “I know my way around.” You shrugged off his touch, “Now go be a good boy and return back to your boss, alright?”

Lingering for just a moment too long, too disturbed for your glare to be bitter, you spun on your heel and pushed open the door, not looking back as you walked into the night alone.

[canisxx]

Hey chat! I decided that I don't care if you care or not, I'll post it anyway. Because I'm a scientist nerd, and a TF2 fan.

So here you go, my theory on how the respawn machine actually works.

⚠️It'll be a lot of reading and you need half of a braincell to understand it.

The Respawn Machine can recreate a body within minutes, complete with all previous memories and personality, as if the person never died. We all know this, but I doubt many have thought about how it actually works.

Of course, such a thing is impossible in real life (at least for now), but we’re talking about a game where there’s magic and mutant bread, so it’s all good.

But being an autistic dork, I couldn’t help but start searching for logical and scientific explanations for how this machine might work. How the hell does it actually function? So, I spent hours of my life on yet another useless big brain time.

In the context of the Respawn Machine, the idea is that the technology can instantly create a new mercenary body, identical to the original. This body must be ready for use immediately after the previous one’s death. To achieve this, the cloning process, which in real life takes months or even years, would need to be significantly accelerated. This means the machine is probably powered by a freaking nuclear reactor, or maybe even Australium.

My theory is that this machine is essentially a massive 3D printer capable of printing biological tissues. But how? You see, even today, people can (or are trying to) recreate creatures that lived millions of years ago using DNA. By using the mercenary’s DNA, which was previously loaded into the system, the machine could recreate a perfect copy.

However, this method likely wouldn’t be able to perfectly recreate the exact personality and all the memories from the previous body. I believe the answer lies in neuroscience.

For the Respawn Machine to restore the mercenary’s consciousness and memories, it would need to be capable of recording and preserving the complete structure of the brain, including all neural connections, synapses, and activity that encode personality and memory. This process is known as brain mapping. After creating a brain map, this data could be stored digitally and then transferred to the new body.

“Okay, but how would you transfer memories that are dated right up until the moment of death? The mercenaries clearly remember everything about their previous death.”

Well, I have a theory about that too!

Neural interfaces! Inside each mercenary’s head could be an implant (a nanodevice) that reads brain activity before death and updates a digital copy of the memories. This system operates at the synaptic level, recording changes in the structure of neurons that occur as memories are formed. After death, this data could be instantly transferred to the new body via a quantum network.

Once the data is uploaded and the brain is synchronized with the new body, the mercenary’s consciousness "awakens." Ideally, the mercenary wouldn’t notice any break in consciousness and would remember everything that happened right up to the moment of death.

However… there are also questions regarding potential negative consequences.

Can the transfer of consciousness really preserve all aspects of personality, or is something inevitably lost in the process?

Unfortunately, nothing is perfect, and there’s a chance that some small memories might be lost—like those buried in the subconscious. Or the person’s personality might become distorted. Maybe that’s why they’re all crazy?

How far does the implant’s range extend? Does the distance between the mercenary and the machine affect the accuracy of data transfer?

My theory is that yes, it does. The greater the distance, the fewer memories are retained.

Could there be deviations in the creation of the body itself?

Yes, there could be. We saw this in "Emesis Blue," which led to a complete disaster. But let’s assume everything is fine, and the only deviations are at most an extra finger (or organ—not critical, Medic would only be happy about that).

Well, these are just my theories and nothing more. I’m not a scientist; I’m an amateur enthusiast with a lot of time on my hands. My theories have many holes that I can’t yet fill due to a lack of information.

[heron-knight]

we've got stories where mech systems take over every part of your mind, but what if the opposite happened?

They won’t tell you outright, but this wasn’t supposed to happen. The first time the interface slides into the back of your skull and they fire up the link, they expect it to flood your mind with static and hollow it out. They expect it to tear across your brain like a wildfire in less than a second, the code of every system in the frame carving out your “self” to make space for themselves, leaving you nothing but a weapon. The data should have filled every neuron. Torn out everything except what you need to survive. Instead, when they pressed the button, it did the reverse. Your mind flowed outward through the cables, coating every circuit board with your conscious self. It was like nothing else, when suddenly, your mind had more space then you knew what to do with.  The process was supposed to make you a weapon. Instead it made your weapon you. Even as you fly into combat at mach 5, it’s as if all the time in the world is in between each moment, your brain, now the size of the enormous computer that was supposed to replace it, solves each problem automatically almost as soon as you notice it. Like throwing a deck into the air and seeing it land as a house of cards, only you can feel yourself moving each card into place before it hits the table. All your worries, fears, each issue that sits in the back of your mind, buried under everything else you need to do but still filling you with an overwhelming sense of dread-- all are drained from your subconscious and spread before you for you to see. It all makes sense now, now that you're not trying to fix your problems from inside the brain that’s buried in them. It’s still all there at once, but now you don’t drown in it. It’s not too much to handle anymore. You can feel each piece of the machine as your awareness travels down through the wires, from the CPU to the limbs as the pistons whir like a heartbeat and your four arms grip their weapons with nanocarbon fingers that you can feel each movement of. Each impact of the gun’s recoil sending an energy that you know every aspect of through the frame like a Newton's cradle. Several tons of metal making barely a sound as you dash across the battlefield. No slow, clanking steps for you. This is your body, and it’s under your control to a greater extent even than the one whose arms operate the controls out of muscle memory and nothing else. The mech acts on your command before you even press the button.  It’s still you because it never stopped being you. You still stop to examine the scratches of the walls of the base. Still stare at the sky because nobody could tell you that you can’t. Still insist on meals in the cafeteria instead of intravenously, even if you have to bring your own “food” because you can’t digest what they serve everyone else. You end up at the infantry tables most of the time, as the other pilots don’t eat in the cafeteria and the handlers aren’t actually great at talking to people unless there’s a direct order involved (and they said that the pilot was the one that loses their personality.) Every day you hear someone refer to you by something new. Hero of 100 Battles. Panopticon. The One That Stayed Sane. Just like when you overwrote the mech AI that day, you fit these names as well as the frame’s CPU. perhaps you always did. All you needed was more space in your mind.

[sevastiel]

Current Sevastiel Lore Theories List

(Misc collection of all my interpretations/theories on lore thus far. Warning, theres a LOT. Primary focus on void functions and infestation functions.)

==

Techrot feed off of energy moreso than they do metal, metal is mostly a conductor and a material that can be used to create more resilient and complex structures. This is why they Can consume machines. (Partially proven correct)

The infestation uses a powerful base to dissolve through things, not an acid. Allows less ultimately destructive techniques and minimum energy loss. Also makes scaldra's use of specifically acid more understandable.

The infestation do not necessarily require a protein base to create their bio... stuff. This is why they can infest, say, a planet, and somehow have the biomass to cover the entire surface without an entire surface covering's worth of protein based life forms. What they do use is absolutely beyond me. Current guess is probably silicon for structure base, as carbon is organic.

Everyone has a bit of void energy inside of them that is modified by their experience. That is what a Soul is, and why people echo in the void after their death. (Consider the Kim discussion with eleanor about the void and the afterlife)

Void energy past a very small amount is very difficult to hold onto if you arent modified to be able to hold more of it, but if you are imbued with more than youre regularly able to hold onto, it can/will fuck up your soul. This is why people who interact with the void go insane, instead of just getting powers.

The adults on the zariman were given an understanding of both the nature of eternity and also what the tenno would become, and how much KILLING they would do. Also, that the tenno would be far more complete void vessels, which could, if they could consume them, possibly allow them to contain more power/and/or not be destroyed by the void

Tenno blood could be used as kuva. The physical aspect of the tenno is, at very least, VERY well equipped to hold onto void energy and thusly ingesting it might spread the effect. (No it wont lol) Queens wanted to transfer into a tenno because of the void capacity.

Red kuva primarily fucks with your mental aspect of the soul(allows the orokin transfer of consiousness) whereas blue kuva fucks with your physical aspect of the soul (allows shapeshifting, in lore) and thusly purple kuva could probably allow you to just Become Anyone

Everything is essentially the void. Reality is held together, much like duviri, by the expectation and understanding of everyone that exists within it. Common consensus decides that the sun keeps rising/that gravity continues to work.

The physical look of the tenno/drifter is entirely based on their perception of self. This is why we can change our cosmetics/gender/voice on a literal whim, and ultimately means that we are not really limited to human forms. Conceptual em-body-ment :)

Void tongue is not an actual language, per se. Each word is more or less simply describing a concept/idea that is taken from across externalism, which is why each word is described with a poem, and not a regular definition. Its like saying 'water' and truly meaning/referring to all of water, everything that has experienced it, every emotion that anyone has ever had about it, every moment that it has existed, and every interaction that it has had with every other thing. This is why void tongue drives you mad to understand it, because it just pushes your mind so far beyond its limits. Like an ant suddenly being raised to the awareness of a human with all the understanding we have of our world, the knowledge of taxes and society and the way people act, all while still limited by the few neurons of an ants brain. The soul can retain that information, your body/brain cannot, and the discrepancy is probably upsetting.

The mind is the connection point between the soul and the body, the void and the physical world we've made, and that is why it is capable of affecting the void at all.

Because our reality is held together by what we think it is, that order extends to all of it, even things that we inherently think of as chaotic, like our energy. Our energy is VERY orderly, and it tends to exert that order on things it comes in contact with. This is why the murmur and void enemies are weak to radiation and electrical damage, because its a high amount of ordered energy that comes up against energy that is only chaotic because nobodys gotten around to ordering it up yet.

Transference works through the manipulation of electrical systems across gaps translated through the void. Void energy to open up the link is necessary. This is why warframes are very Much Metal, and why transference bolts are metal. Because that shit is conductive. It allows us to literally mirror our brain signals inside of a warframe's brain, and visa versa. This is why transference is hard to fight off, and why a stronger will allows domination over the other. Orokin transference probably allows them to cheat at this by amplifying their signals a few times through manipulation of void energy.

Void portals need both a void energy component and an order energy component. The void energy to open the tear in reality, the order energy to pave a way through the void to another place. Like digging a tunnel in sand, and using wooden planks to line the walls to keep it from collapsing. This is why all the void portals we see/use often are tied to large energy generators, and why albrecht needed a nuclear reactor detonation to have enough power to time travel. You need a LOT of power to travel the void safely unless you're of the void, like a tenno is.

Archon shards are 'anti-entropic radiation', which is, I assume, the sentient's way of dealing with the void radiation that would end their race otherwise. The void is said to be both entropy and anti-entropy, it decays, it creates, yadda yadda, so if you order it to be specifically non-entropic through some process, you can basically lock it into one manageable form. Its still void energy, which is why they're not commonly used outside of warframes and archons, but its still a containment method. I wonder if Albrecht is at all curious about how the sentients in tau managed to find ways to contain void energy. Seems it could be useful to him.

Archon shards are not perfect, as we can see them visibly leaking void particle styled energy, and the 'effect' we get from an archon shard is due to a specific desire/idea that the crystalized energy is centered around being. Tauforged shards have more energy. if they are described as anti-entropic, we must assume taht means they are at least mostly so. So, most of the energy that escapes gets pulled back in, and we use the liiittle bit that we siphon off the top/that leaks out. Like drinking from a recycling water fountain but infinitely less gross.

Void energy tends to either pull in more void energy, or de-order the energy around it. Chaos begets chaos, entropy begets entropy.

The albrecht membrane is literally the separation between what is and what we think is.

The skin of a warframe is bolstered by multi-cell-wall layers, (The tougher/more leathery bits, maybe 2? the more flexible bits maybe just 1? unsure. Not a biologist, just talked with some.) growths akin to a horses hooves but with a more flexible structure, (the toughest bits) pleeenty of lignin, a thick layer of skin/padding overall, and an underlayer beneath the skin of a thick, non-Newtonian liquid. Likely either highly conductive or held within a lattice of highly conductive tissues, possibly incorporating metals like gold into the structure either held between cells or somehow within them. The outer layer offers us our slash resistance, the fluid provides both the impact resistance and the energy channels for our energy to go through, and is what makes up our emissive effects. Also is why all the orokin towers have that layer of golden veining beneath the fat and flesh, and are able to 1, bleed, and 2, transmit/control energy.

Warframes have extra organs/mechanisms for storing both bioelectricity and a pinch of void energy. Void energy draws in itself, but might struggle to do so when surrounded by regular energy, which keeps it contained and harmless. Most of the warframe's abilities are pulled from the void energy collective, physical functions are pulled from the bioelectricity collective. Shields are probably fueled from the bioelectricity, and abilities are from the void. (theres no physical way at all ever to generate enough energy to unleash a portal to the sun at whim) This is why we naturally have no/very low energy regen, and start missions at very little energy, because holding a high amount of void energy in general would be Extremely dangerous.

Energy orbs are kinda just The Power That Makes Up That Guys's Fucking Soul. Consume it to use void magic. Yippee.

Overguard is made up of void energy. (glances at kullervo) It allows the haver to simply Resist shit because with that much void energy around you, it can 1, nullify energy that comes into contact with it, (stop bullets by instantly countering out kinetic energy, absorb the impact of a fall, etc etc) and 2, it sort of just alters your percieved 'existence' when it comes to other void things. Like, a void ability will just blitz through or slide off, which is why we cant target overguarded enemies with abilities. Their physical location exists, but their physical energies do not.

Eximus units are probably people who have specialized units of programmed void energy that they can utilize. I dont imagine they last long power-wise or mentally.

Infested eximus units probably have the same separation between void energy organs and bio-electric organs as warframes do.

The infestations various hiveminds came to be because it consumed living beings with souls/connections to the void, and, as void energy risks destroying regular energy, and it NEEDS the regular energy to exists, it probably had to contain it carefully. that adds up, and all those souls together, all those memories, all that consciousness, would form the hivemind.

Wally/all of the clones are a decentralized hivemind. All have access to the same knowledge/shit, but each individual facet/clone creation is just that, its own facet on the same gem.

Thrax is the drifter's void clone, but is the natural one that happened not because the wally collective made it, but the result of the drifter really REALLY wanting someone to protect them/a friend, and only having themselves. A shadow cast with natural light, instead of a shadow cast by wally pointing a flashlight at someone.

Warframes feed through the helminth, which is why we dont need to feed them but do need to stuck up the wall mouth, and why their backs always look so rough.

The warframes we pilot are shadows of the originals, with the orokin having devised ways to sever parts of the brain to reduce the likelihood of them having consciousness while retaining their capacity for memory.

The mod system/arcanes are a mixture of a physical item, like a little chip, and a charge of stabilized void energy thats set to do a certain thing. Like an archon shard, but less... Archon-y. And way less powerful. Powering up the mod is done by increasing the charge of energy within the chip, which increases its effects on reality. Stick those mfers in the warframe's spine or something. The physical aspect of the modding system is why we cannot alter the protoframe's modding, because Ow.

Time travel works by anchors if you dont want to do it the regular way. Go into the void and pray you can keep your destination in mind. (Proven correct, thank fucking god)

you could kill a tenno with a sufficient amount of energy.

The ascaris probably worked on the same wavelength as transference. (metaphorically) And probably both induced brain-wave style electrical waves and charges of a high enough power, siphoned from the warframe's own energy supplies, to eat through the void energy.