#none of you would survive without technology

[ask-swansea]

swanseamore. swanseamore i dont have wifi what did you do before the internet existed

Yeesh. You kids and your electronics, even Daisuke falls victim to it. Have to tell him at least three times a day while workin' to turn down that darn gameboy.

Back when /I/ was a kid, before I had too much responsibility on my hands, I personally liked makin' wooden cars and goin' out with friends to explore the woods near my house. Collected frogs and toads, found the coolest lookin' leaves, and as we got a little older started swimmin' in the lakes or goin' on night time camping trips in the backyard.

I was partial to drawin' some too, designs and such. Haven't in awhile. I like seein' Daisuke doodle on all the papers we work on.

[houserautha]

Truth Be Told

Summary: When you ask your dagger a question, it vibrates to communicate yes. And Feyd has a lot of questions.

Pairings: Feyd-Rautha x F!Reader

Word Count: 2.1k

Warnings: MDNI, dubious consent, dirty talk, inappropriate use of a dagger, male and female orgasms, some blood

A/N: I recently read “Bound to the Shadow Prince” by Ruby Dixon. (Great smutty monster romance novel). I was anticipating a scene with a magical dagger that never happened so I decided to write it with Feyd🥰

Does he want to kill me?

Shiver.

Will he kill me?

Nothing.

The dagger, grasped in your sweaty palm, doesn’t respond. This hardly does anything to calm your nerves. Remembering that it’s specific about phrasing, you ask, Will he kill me before the day is over?

Your breath hitches in anticipation.

Nothing.

Okay, so your betrothed wants to kill you, but at least he won’t today. As long as you ask every day, surely you could survive this courtship — or know when to make a run for it. You thought your sister was a fool when she gifted you this dagger. Technology, magic, whatever powered it, was strictly prohibited. But upon her insistence you took it with you to Giedi Prime and now you’re grateful that you did.

It’s a modicum of comfort in such a harsh place.

Your thoughts of home are interrupted by the sound of footsteps coming from the opposite direction. You’ve only just slipped the dagger down the front of your corset when none other than Feyd-Rautha turns the corner.

He doesn’t look surprised to see you, as if he somehow arranged for this to happen; you, on the other hand, had been trying to avoid him. A series of scenarios play through your head in which you walk past him, all of them ending rather tragically. Instead, you stay rooted to the spot.

Feyd-Rautha sidles casually down the hall, boots ringing out with each step. You hate how furiously your heart pounds when he’s near. It would be one thing if you were just afraid of him. He certainly warranted such a reaction. But there was a small, traitorous part of you that was thrilled to be in his presence, ensnared in his dark gaze. He had a habit of looking at you as if you were the only one in the room, the center of his attention — a dangerous thing to be, indeed.

And you liked it.

“You look frightened,” Feyd-Rautha rasps. His voice glides down your back like cold water.

You lift your chin. “You’re mistaking fear for distrust.”

“Distrust, of me?”

“What are you doing?” You ask, ignoring him. It takes tremendous effort not to roll your eyes at his feigned offense. “I thought you were entertaining diplomats.”

Feyd-Rautha rolls his tongue inside his cheek. “I was.”

There’s something about his blunt, uninformative reply that ignites an ember of anger inside you. “And now you’re here to pester me.”

“Is that right?”

“What else?” You snap.

Feyd-Rautha steps closer. He eclipses the rest of the corridor, a portrait of dark and light, pale skin and armor as black as night. His voice rumbles like thunder over you. “You’ve been avoiding me.”

“No, I haven’t.”

“Hm. Is that why you’ve been darting out of every room I walk into? Freeze when you see me?” Feyd-Rautha’s gaze slips over you in a pointed manner. Your cheeks burn.

“What does it matter to you if I do?”

“Cowardice is unbecoming of you.”

“And pride is unbecoming of you,” you hiss back, “to think I care about you enough to leave whenever I notice you.”

In a surge of movement, faster than you can even process, Feyd-Rautha has cornered you against the wall, forearm pressed to your throat. Panic swells in your chest. Is he trying to scare me?

Between your breasts, the dagger shivers.

Reflexively, without thinking, your hand flutters there. Feyd-Rautha hones in on this, is close enough to you to probably sense the displacement of air. His eyes narrow. Within the span of a few thunderous heartbeats he reaches down your corset, and you cry out as he dips between your breasts and retrieves the dagger.

“What is this?”

“It’s nothing,” you tell him.

“A weapon?” He appraises it, then you. “You think you can hide this from me?”

In his hand the dagger shivers.

You curse out loud.

“Where did you get this?” Feyd-Rautha demands. The blade of the dagger replaces his forearm at your throat.

“It’s mine,” you growl, “give it back.”

The next time you correspond with your sister, you’re going to yell at her for not telling you it responds to other people.

“Where. Did. You. Get. This.”

You hold your tongue. A snarl tears through his chest and he leans his weight into the dagger, drawing blood, warm and thick. It slides down your throat and pools into the divot at the bottom. You keep your silence even though pain explodes at the site of the incision, white hot and searing.

“You wish to disavow the laws of our Emperor by bringing this onto my planet? Into my home?”

Shiver.

An inkling of anger vanishes from his face, something much worse taking its place. The intensity of the blade lessens. “It’s aware. How? What technology is this?”

“I-I don’t know,” you say finally. Your fingers itch at your side — you just want it back. “All I know is that it will answer yes or no to your questions.”

Feyd-Rautha considers this.

You wrap your hand around Feyd-Rautha’s, the one holding the dagger, to prove your point. “I have three eyes.” Nothing. “I’m wearing an emerald dress.” It shivers. The vibration shoots up your arm, and it’s only then that you realize that you’re still touching him.

A flicker of amusement dances in his expression as you quickly remove your hand.

“Interesting,” Feyd-Rautha mumbles.

“Now that you know, I’d like it back.”

A ripple of tension rolls between you, a storm on the horizon. In way of reply, Feyd-Rautha drags the tip of the dagger down the column of your throat, fixated on its progress.

It steals the air from your lungs. “Please.”

“I don’t think so,” Feyd-Rautha distantly says, as if lost in thought. The dagger slips over the swell of your breasts and rests on the edge of your corset, prompting shivers to break out across your skin. All it takes is a single slice for him to cut through the material.

Without the support, your breasts fall free. And while you’re still covered by the lightweight chemise underneath, your hardened nipples betray your arousal. Feyd-Rautha traces around each one with the blade, then flicks them.

“My suspicions about your true feelings are quite evident,” he says, slow and unhurried, “though I would be loathe not to confirm them myself.”

His dark eyes lock on yours. “Does she think of me?”

Shiver. The blade, pressed to one taut nipple, sends a pulse straight to your core. You squirm, trying to evade him — his touch, his questions — but he keeps you securely in place. “Often?” He asks, to which the blade shudders again.

“Please, stop —”

“Oh, but I’ve only just started.”

The coolness of the dagger cuts through the thin material of the chemise. It’s almost painful how aroused you are, every inch of your body alive, aware, buzzing with anticipation. Feyd-Rautha leans in closer. “Does she think of me when she’s touching herself?”

Shiver.

You grit out between clenched teeth, “That’s enough.”

Torturously, Feyd-Rautha offers no amount of relief. A torrent of questions follow. Does she touch herself every night? Does she say my name? Does she dream about what it might be like for me to fuck her?

Each time the blade betrays you, shuddering over and over again in quick succession. The sensation on your nipple is overwhelming, crashing into you with unexpected ferocity. It’s not only the nature of his questions that elicit such response, but the sharpness of the blade, his hips ground into yours and the presence of his cock against your thigh.

Hazily, you wonder if he’s enjoying this because he’s twisted or because he’s aroused by you too. There’s no way of knowing if the blade validates this line of thought, not with the steady stream of questions that Feyd-Rautha is whispering, a man possessed. Is she wet right now, just at my touch? At the sight of me? If I reach between her legs, will I find her cunt aching for my fingers?

You whimper. Whatever tether there is between your nipples and your cunt, it’s been pulled tight. He’s right and you hate it. You are wet, uncomfortably so, desperate for friction. And you aren’t able to disguise your delight when he takes the blade down your navel, free hand gathering your skirts and pushing them aside to expose you to him. His plush lips form a wicked smile.

“So wet, just for me,” Feyd-Rautha rasps. He palms himself through his pants, admiring you all the while. You writhe impatiently.

“You can’t wait, can you?” The blade shivers. A wave of ecstasy sweeps over you as he touches it to the inside of your thigh.

You all but thrust your hips into him, a wanton, greedy thing. Mercifully, Feyd-Rautha grazes the blade to your weeping cunt and then outlines your entrance, more gentle than any man with his reputation should allow. But he finds love in this, does he not? The delicate control that he wields, the certainty of a weapon in his hands. You sense this from him the same way someone can look at a piece of art and know the care the artist put into each brushstroke.

And this realization only entices you more to him, makes the handle of the dagger pressed against your swollen clit that much sweeter.

“You like this, don’t you? You want this. Want my cock, want anything I can give you.”

Shiver after shiver. The blade vibrates over your clit and a cry of pleasure escapes, swallowed by Feyd-Rautha clamping a hand over your mouth. You blink back tears as you silently plead him to continue, the pressure of the blade and the shuddering of your truths, come to light, nearly enough to send you to your knees.

Hatred wrestles with your desperation as Feyd-Rautha breathes more questions into the junction of your neck, like whispering prayers. You’ll take this cock so nicely, won’t you? Won’t you, jewel?

You come at the image of his cock inside you. It’s not hard to imagine, with it currently burying into your thigh. Feyd-Rautha keeps you upright as you buckle under the euphoria of your orgasm, strong and steady in the storm of the aftermath. And you don’t even get to completely descend from the high, either, as he nudges the handle of the blade between your slick folds and into your cunt.

“I’ve almost sated my curiosity,” Feyd-Rautha rasps, “but I have a few more questions for you. Do you think you can handle that?”

The dagger is small, not quite filling you up, but as it quakes in agreement the ridges of it bump against your walls and you jolt. “Don’t make me cover that pretty mouth again.” Feyd-Rautha places a trail of kisses — bites, really, sure to leave bruises — up your neck. He laps up the blood from before, and licks over the incision. “Are you ready, jewel?”

You don’t have to speak. The blade shivers.

His chuckle, dark and dangerous and wonderful, resonates deep inside. You think you’re prepared for the next round of questions, prepared for the splitting answer of your orgasm, but you’re sorely mistaken. Feyd-Rautha pumps the blade into you up to its hilt and then out, over and over, all while eking out questions that keep it shuddering at a toe-curling pace.

But it’s not just my cock that you want, is it? You want my mouth, don’t you? My fingers? Fuck, look at you, you’ll take whatever you can have in your greedy cunt, won’t you? And you’ll call out my name as you come? ‘Cause you’re such a good girl. So good, just for me?

You were already near the ledge but you’ve toppled back over it now. “Feyd,” you gasp out.

Pleasure cleaves you in two and your orgasm tears from you, more colorful and blinding than any you’ve ever had. Stars dance behind your closed eyes. Feyd-Rautha holds the quivering blade at your most sensitive spot as he wrings out your orgasm, murmuring praises, cock twitching against your leg. There’s a warmth there, not from you, but from his own release — and when you finally have the clarity to open your eyes, to face what just happened, you discover that he doesn’t seemed ashamed of this in the least.

Feyd-Rautha just withdraws the dagger from you. He lets your skirts, now wrinkled, drop to the ground. And he holds your gaze as he first sucks your juices from the handle, then licks your blood from the blade. His tongue is long, sinful, and you visually chase it back into his mouth where it disappears behind a satisfied smirk.

“I believe this is yours.”

[junowritings]

Been going through a bit of a bad batch kick and got inspired by a prompt so I wanted to try my hand at writing a lil something!

Huge thanks to @itscanonfellas for helping me with this and putting up with my rambling!

=======

A Reprieve

Tech X Reader

Warnings: None, just pure fluff really

Prompt: 1. Firefly outside on a dark night.

prompt list x

=======

With the Empire a constant threat breathing down your neck, respite was a luxury rarely afforded and often downright ignored for the sake of survival. It was to be expected, you knew what you had signed up for traveling with your wayward band of misfit clones - but with each day of endless running and hiding, it was becoming harder to remember times that you weren’t bunged up in the Marauder for a mission or being chased down on a supposedly ‘safe’ planet.

Whether it was your own wishes spoken into existence, or something out there in the universe had taken mercy, your break finally came in the form of blaster fire.

You were never good with technology, but judging by Echo’s grumbling as he assessed the damage on the monitor, it wasn’t very good, whatever had been hit. Something about being a pain in the shebs to fix, but manageable. You didn’t speak much Mando’an but you felt you could connect the dots on that one.

The ship would have made the journey back to Ord Mantell just fine if a little slower than wanted, but with the job done and no one particularly eager to return to Cid’s parlor, there was no rush to get back planetside just yet.

Instead Hunter had relented, landing the Marauder for a quick pit stop, settling onto the first small planet that was far enough away not to draw unwanted attention.

This temporary stop is probably the most peace you’ve had in months. Dense treelines stretch out as far as you can see on all sides, rich with flora of all kinds that Hunter double checks are safe before he lets anyone even get a foot off the craft.

There are small bodies of water dotted across the grassy terrain and you can’t take a few steps without stepping in one on your path through the grass. They go no deeper than knee-length, a fact quickly discovered when Wrecker had jumped straight into the nearest one - expecting a puddle only to sink straight down to his boots, water flooding through the crevices much to his annoyance.

You and Omega had laughed at his plight, until he’d rounded on you both and you’d scattered, avoiding your own watery fate from the hands of your bomb expert. Once the initial scan of the immediate vicinity flagged no dangers – and the three of you had made a fine show of kicking up water, Hunter had allowed you to take off to - for the lack of a more professional word, play.

It’s nice to see Omega get to be a child, the moments are few and far between and the girl is so clever, it’s hard to remember she’s only been around for 13 cycles.

You allow yourself this moment, splashing around and soaking your fellow teammates whilst the ship is getting fixed. Hunter watches from the sidelines - supervising to make sure they don’t get too out of hand.

At least until Omega catches Hunter in the watery crossfire that was originally meant for you. You both freeze. Wrecker bellows with laughter somewhere behind you all. Hunter slowly turns to face Omega, hair dripping into his face, covering his tattoos so he looks positively menacing.

Omega takes off running first with a cackle, already anticipating when Hunter follows in hot pursuit. It’s an unfair fight, Hunter’s legs are longer and the man’s got unnatural speed, but Omega’s crafty and uses the terrain to her advantage.

Of course, just as you start to cheer Omega on, she trips head first into the puddle at her feet, disappearing in a spray of water. Hunter trudges his way through the marsh and pulls her out by the collar, much like a bedraggled Lothcat.

That signals the end of the battle for the new planet; Hunter tucks Omega under one arm and takes her back to the safety of the Marauder.

From inside the vessel, there are very loud complaints that water should be kept outside of the ship and that included Omega in her current state. This of course is ignored.

“Well, party’s over.” Wrecker wades his way back to dry land, beckoning you to follow which you do - at a much slower pace.

You’re both sopping wet when you reach the grassy bank and you decide you’re not going to risk Echo’s or Tech’s wrath on this one, leave that for Omega and Wrecker. “I’ll just be a few, if you need me you know where to find me.”

Wrecker shrugs, like he doesn’t understand the want to be outside alone, but allows you this piece of solitude “Don’t forget, this ain’t over, next planet we’re on it’s victor against victor.”

Technically, there had been no victor - Maker you weren’t even aware it was a fight for the title, or what this title was. Still, you’ll allow Wrecker to have this. You shoo Wrecker away with a grin. He jabs his two fingers at his eyes and then towards you, which you mimic before he disappears inside the ship.

“Wrecker, for the last time you are not a mop, wring yourself out before you step foot on this ship.” 

Even from outside the ship you can hear the impending scolding and you snicker as your own shoes squelch with each step.

The last slivers of sun are gone by the time you flop onto the bank, squeezing out what water you can from your hair and clothes, before splaying out onto the grass. 

A chill settles in now that you’re not stomping through puddles, but the cool breeze is welcome after your tussle on the marshy battlefield and you stretch out, breathing deep. The air smells of wet soil and fresh grass and you give yourself a moment to just enjoy something that isn’t stale air and smoke.

Almost on instinct, your eyes flutter closed, basking in the feeling while you have it. Your senses are nowhere near as refined as Hunter’s - which, considering how loud things can get on the Marauder, the poor man must suffer terribly - but like this you catch the little things. The wind simpers, making a low howling sound as it blows softly through the breaks in the treeline, masked only by the dull hum of the ship. 

If you strain your ears you can make out the commotion inside - can hear Wrecker arguing that his armor’s still good to wear even though it had been dripping buckets earlier. You catch Omega grumbling something about drying her hair herself and grin, knowing that the kid’s not going to escape Hunter’s grip till she’s not a walking water balloon skulking around the Marauder.

The bickering is playful, void of any of the stress that’s been bubbling among the crew for too long. The batch had needed this excursion even if at first it had been an inconvenience - things were content, relaxed for the first time in a long while.

All too soon, however, this tranquility would be over. No doubt it won’t be long before you get the call to head back and the illusion of peace will shatter. You frown. It’s a sobering thought, an unpleasant reminder of the routine the whole team will fall back into once you leave this planet behind. You want it to last longer - to forget about anything that exists past this planet's atmosphere, so the galaxy doesn’t feel like it’s crumbling apart for once and it’s not your job to try to patch up the cracks. If for just a few more hours.

With a sigh, you run a hand through your hair – damp but thankfully not soaked. With any luck you’ll be able to sneak onboard without catching as much flack as Omega and Wrecker did-

“Have you been banished from the ship for any particular reason?”

If anyone asks, no, you don’t almost jump out of your skin at the sudden noise, and you definitely don’t narrowly avoid slipping down the bank as you dig your heels in and scramble to look up. You have to crane your neck back to see his face, but your blood pressure is still cussing out Tech for the scare the moment you recognize the clone standing behind you.

“Me? Banished? Never.” You mock gasp taking the shock in stride as you clutch your chest - partly for dramatics but also to check that your heart’s still beating. Somehow that doesn’t seem to convince him - not that you have the best track record anyway - so you shrug. 

“Thought I’d dry off before getting onboard. Wouldn’t wanna add to the indoor pool Omega and Wrecker have got going on in there.”

Tech looks positively miserable at the reminder of the mess, sighing. “Well the sentiment is appreciated. At least one of you has the sense not to risk waterlogging the ship.”

You go to argue that he’s exaggerating - it wasn’t like they’d been that badly drenched. Until you remember Omega was more water than girl by the time Hunter had carried her back into the ship, and Wrecker wasn’t any better with half the marsh stuffed in his gear. Point taken.

You half expect Tech to herd you back onto the ship. If he’s out here, then that means the Marauder’s patched up and ready to go - Tech’s never one to leave a job half finished. But he doesn’t. Instead he pads over to the space beside you, making sure it’s dry before taking a seat on the bank, unclipping his datapad from his belt and bringing it to his face.

Blinking you roll over to get a better look at him, watching Tech tap away at the screen with no urgency. The wind picks up, ruffling his hair and cutting through the silence that stretches for a moment. When had his hair gotten so long? It had been short and slicked back when you had met so many moons ago, now it curled just past the ear - still kept meticulously out of his face. You supposed there weren’t many options out in deep space, you couldn’t imagine being caught by the Empire with half a head done.

And you weren’t about to trust Wrecker and his clippers either.

The silence is almost comfortable, settling between you until Tech speaks again, not sparing a glance from the machine.

“I suppose statistically there are worse planets to land on.” He muses, almost to himself. You were sure he was until he gave a sideways glance in your direction “Though we won’t be interrupting its tranquility for long, we will be space worthy within the hour.”

“Ah. Done already?” Propping your cheek in your hand, you tilt your head trying to catch a glimpse of his screen - with no luck. You’ve always wondered what he types away on that thing. Maybe it’s his diary.

The image of a teenage Tech writing all his secrets in a data pad, hiding away what he had done that day or who had gained his highest admiration, makes you smile, and you hide it in the palm of your hand.

“They were simply routine repairs” Tech reassures “The blaster fire compromised a few controls. Nothing I could not fix, naturally.” from anyone else that would be bragging, but knowing Tech it’s as easy for him as he makes it sound, probably could have done it in his sleep if he was so inclined. Not that he does, mind you.

A pause, then he glances up from his data pad finally in your direction. “You sound disappointed?” there’s a questioning to his tone, like he’s unsure why exactly you would be disheartened having to leave this little haven.

“Well I don’t think any of us wanna be stranded, Tech.” Absently you run your hand through the grass, tugging a few blades between your fingers. Maker, how long had it been since you’d gotten to touch real grass? “Just a shame is all. I was getting used to it.”

“It?”

“Yknow, this” You gesture around. “The peace and quiet-”

As if on cue, a crash rattles the Marauder, Wrecker’s cackle echoing from inside; making you startle and Tech sigh like he was expecting it. After a moment it settles, the rocking slowing and you turn back to Tech.

“Okay maybe not quiet - you know what I mean.”

Tech gives a hum of acknowledgment. “I understand. Between missions from Cid and maintaining a low profile, there’s been little else. Rest has been difficult.”

For him more so than most, you want to add. You can’t remember a time since joining the crew that Tech’s had more than a Powernap. You’ve found him curled up in the pilot’s seat a few times, or face down on his datapad for a couple clicks when things quiet down. But anything longer than that? Maker, you can't tell if that’s just a Tech thing or if the rest of the batch have the same struggle. 

You wouldn’t blame them, not after everything they’ve been through.

“Though the amount of water brought back aboard is less than ideal, this brief excursion has been…” Tech trails off, like he’s trying to find the right word. “It’s…nice.” He decides and you chuckle.

“Eloquently put from a man of many words.” 

You catch him rolling his eyes behind his goggles, the hint of a smile tugging at his lips, but he doesn’t comment further on the sarcastic comment.

Conversation lulls so your attention wanders elsewhere. The water around you has settled without several pairs of boots stomping through it. You can see why Wrecker thought they were just puddles - the only indication otherwise is the reeds that sprout up around the marshy underbrush, standing tall and almost glowing against the deep blue reflection of the-

Wait.

There’s a blue light beginning to glow between the reeds, which is new. You change directions; lying flat on your belly so you can peer over the edge into one of the little pools, trying to make out what the source of the light is and where it’s coming from. Tech begins leaning closer as if to pull you back from the edge.

“I wouldn’t advise-“ Tech goes to warn you but you beat him to it with an excited gasp.

“Fireflies!” 

“What?”

Sure enough the source of the light is indeed fireflies, or at least, something that resembles them. There’s dozens of them; they weave in and out of the reeds, appearing from small pockets around the pools and slowly rising up into the darkened sky, generating a hazy blue bioluminescent light. 

You lean back at the revelation, pushing yourself a safe distance from the waters edge as they begin to emerge and fan out across the terrain, their numbers increasing with every second. What had once been a sea of browns and greens, is now an artwork of azure blue.

There have been many wonders that you have come across exploring the galaxy, only multiplied further by the arrival of the batch. And yet sights like these never get old - little pockets of something far removed from the chaos of the universe just waiting to be discovered.

In another life you could stay here, longer than an hour, longer than a day, if only for the promise of such a sight waiting outside of the ship every night. But with that a distant wish you settle for just now, entranced by the vibrant hues that makes the whole place glow like it’s alive.

“It’s been a while since we’ve seen something pretty that hasn’t immediately tried to kill us.” Your sigh is wistful as you pull your legs up to your chest, chin resting on your knees as your eyes trace patterns of the lightshow generated by the myriad of luminescent insects.

“I agree. Though what you have found ‘pretty’ in the past has been notably questionable.”

You clutch your non-existent pearls at the jab, mouth aghast.“Really? Name one time I’ve been questionable!” 

“I distinctly remember you calling a rancor ‘adorable”. The quotation marks Tech makes with his free hand earn him a glowering look as you jab an accusatory finger at him.

“Muchi was adorable!”

“Was that decided before or after almost being trampled in her rampage?”

…Fair point. That point of course is promptly ignored as the sky is suddenly far more fascinating than deigning him with a retort that just proves him right again.

With night rolling in, many of the fireflies have wandered from the marshes, meandering overhead and dotting about the skyline above you. They blend into the sky, merging alongside the myriad of stars until you can hardly differentiate the two in a canvas of breathtakingly dark hues. It’s a humbling kind of beauty, and you take your time idling the moments away admiring the sapphire speckles of light buzzing through the air for a while, mesmerized by the simple wonder before you turn to see if Tech’s watching too.

Only to stifle a chuckle.

A firefly has perched itself on the rim of Tech’s goggles, a tiny little thing that casts a soft blue glow over the yellow tint of his lenses. He hasn’t noticed, face still half buried in the datapad in his hands, laser focused on whatever he’s working on.

As much as you’d love to see how long it takes to notice his new companion, as the seconds tick by the urge to point it out is too great and a minute later you cave.

“Tech.” He hums in acknowledgment but doesn’t look up. It’s only by the third call that Tech finally deems it necessary to tear his gaze away from the device, and there's no hiding the little grin on your face when he tilts his head to face you.

“I think you’ve got something there.” you tap a finger beside your temple just above your right eye, mirroring where his goggles rest on his face. 

Of course he connects the dots quickly, and on instinct Tech brings a hand up to adjust his goggles. You half expect the firefly to take off the second he does so, and though its wings flutter briskly to keep itself balanced it doesn’t budge. In fact the little bug uses the gesture as a bridge to climb across the frame and onto his glove, pattering delicately down the fabric before coming to settle on one of his knuckles, where it stops with a deciding flutter.

Whether emboldened by their fellow firefly or drawn in by its light reflecting off of Tech’s glove, it doesn’t take long for a few other fireflies to break from the formation above your heads and move to join the insect.

Before you know it, several of the little things have come to rest on the back of his hand, essentially using the clone’s hand as a landing pad. For what it’s worth Tech doesn’t even flinch at the development, even though the glow is now bright enough that he looks blue right up to his wrist.

If Tech wanted to, he could easily ward them off with a shake of his hand. Surprisingly, he doesn’t. Instead he places his datapad onto his lap, maneuvering his hand to better view these miniscule guests who have made his hand their temporary perch.

Fearless little things; they hardly move an inch as he does so. This time your laugh at his plight doesn’t go unnoticed and Tech gives you a side glance at the soft sound, wordlessly questioning what you find so amusing with an arched brow.

“They must like you.” You tease, grin a little squished with how your cheek presses against your knee when you tilt your head.

“Unlikely.” Tech is quick to dissuade you of the notion, no doubt pulling on the well of knowledge knocking around in his brain as he continues.

“It is merely a lack of socialization.” He explains, twisting his hand to allow you a closer look. “This planet would rarely see interference from outside influences, and natural predators are limited in such a way that they lack the reservations for caution. Simply put, they have no reason to fear us.”

You nod sagely, like you understood more than the last third of what he’d just said. You’re more focused on admiring the fireflies now that they’re a little closer. Though there’s some distance between the two of you, you can make out that the light the fireflies admit isn’t one stagnant color. No, they instead seem to cycle through several shades of blue - from azures to royal tints that remind you all too fondly of the tumultuous hues of deep oceans.

When you look up to point it out you’re surprised to find Tech's attention is solely on you. Warm brown eyes regard you intently through tinted lenses, and you instinctively give yourself a once over to check that you don’t have any bioluminescent plus-ones of your own. Upon finding none you’re puzzled and begin to ask what’s wrong; only to pause when he nods as though resolving an internal matter in his head.

“Very well - come closer.”

“What?” Brows furrowing your expression scrunches up in confusion. What is he-?

He doesn’t explain, instead shifting positions so that his whole body is facing you. “It will only take a moment. Just raise your hand - like so.” 

Curiosity wins out and you do as he asks, scooting closer and holding out your hand with the palm facing upwards as Tech demonstrates. Your legs knock against the knee pads of his armor and you have to readjust yourself a few times to get comfortable, but eventually you get settled so you’re sitting face to face.

Satisfied with your cooperation Tech’s free hand moves to catch your wrist. It’s a small gesture, but your whole arm prickles like a shot’s gone through your system as you freeze. His touch is gentler than you’d anticipated but the weathered material of his gloves takes some getting used to as he steadies your hand, the warmth a stark contrast to the cool night air.

“Do I need to ask what you’re doing?”

“You can, though it is far easier to show you if you are patient. Now try not to move.”

Easier said than done when he’s holding your wrist like that, and even more so as he brings both hands to cover yours. Your gaze snaps up to Tech’s face, attempting to gauge what’s going through that brain of his. His expression is frustratingly neutral so you have nothing to clue you in on his train of thought. You’re about to bite the bullet and just ask when-

“There we go.”

“Huh?” blinking, you glance down at your connected hands and finally realize what he’d been doing.

The fireflies have taken advantage of the new connection and transferred from Tech’s hand to your own. They tickle as they pad across the bare skin of your palm, leaving it tingling in the wake of their tiny legs as they fan out along your palm. A faint prickle settles all the way up to your fingertips as they potter about, reminding you vaguely of static - you have to wonder if that’s got anything to do with the electrifying colors that they display.

You giggle, wiggling your fingers slowly and their wings flutter at the motion, that fascinating light flaring up brighter and bathing your fingers bright blue. No doubt your face paints a similar picture of the vibrant hue as you lean in to get a closer look, eyes alight in the dance of the emanating glow with a reverent awe.

“I believe they must like you too.” You catch the amused lilt in Tech’s voice as he speaks, breaking you from your reverie and echoing your own words back to you. You snort at the irony.

“Hey, that’s my line-“ you prepare yourself for another teasing jab, grinning despite yourself when you glance up and-

Oh. Oh. He’s a lot closer than before.

Tech’s hunched forward, assuming the usual posture when studying something of interest - definitely not good for his back, but that complaint has fallen on deaf ears for a few months at least. Now though he’s close enough that your faces are only a couple inches apart, and while Tech is focused on your hands you can’t tear your eyes away from him.

The soft blue glow of your surroundings highlights the sharper edges of Tech’s features, azure running along his cheeks and glinting off of his goggles turning them a deeper hue than the usual yellow. Beautiful, is the first word that comes to mind, eyes running along the curve of his jaw as he speaks.

“While it does not happen often, I must concede that you were right in your assessment.” There’s a hint of praise in his words, and that really doesn’t help your brain from overthinking this gesture.

It takes a second to remember how to breathe - since when has breathing suddenly become a conscious effort? Your inhale is sharp as you will your pulse to stop pounding in your ears - with no luck.

“Uh, Tech?”

“The bioluminescence they generate is both aesthetically pleasing and practical-”

“Tech you’re a bit-”

“-That is to say, yes, they are rather pretty.”

“Tech-”

“Yes?”

You startle at how fast his eyes are back on you, that intent gaze from before settled on you with enough intensity that you feel as though you’re under a damn spotlight. The hand cupping your wrist still holds you with a gentle firmness, and you’re pretty sure that your heart shoots straight up into your throat when you feel Tech brush his thumb along the radial pulse.

What were you even going to ask? Were you going to warn him of the close proximity? If you were you’ve no doubt that Tech would be quick to rectify the issue - but was it really an issue? Somehow the thought alone of him moving an inch away is a disheartening prospect.

You force the lump in your throat down, swallowing hard as your lips part with half formed thoughts before you think twice. “I…Tech, do you think-”

“HEY!”

A calmer person wouldn’t have jumped at the sudden interruption, would have heard the call coming from a mile away. You aren’t that lucky - you shoot up so fast that your head bumps against Tech’s with an audible click. The reaction is immediate, both you and Tech groan in pain; shooting away from each other to avoid any other potential collisions and the fireflies instantly scatter to the wind.

Fucking ouch.

You clutch at your head, the point of impact throbbing beneath your touch. That’s going to leave a mark for sure.

Your attention snaps over to the ship to locate the owner of the voice and cause for your newfound injury, just in time to catch Omega as she pokes her head around the hatch from inside the Marauder. Her hair’s curled thanks to the earlier dunk, messy blonde strands framing her face and slightly frizzed no doubt thanks to Hunter’s attempt to dry her off. The man probably scrubbed every last drop off of her poor kid.

“We’re ready to go!” She waves you over excitedly.

Just as quickly as she appears the young girl vanishes back within the ship’s interior, leaving you staring at the empty space she had just inhabited.

Just like her brothers - causes chaos and leaves just as quickly.

You look back over to Tech who is also clutching his own head; you’d gotten the worst of it, but the bump had clearly caused Tech some discomfort as well. He rubs the spot with a pout, wincing under the touch.

The situation is so silly, like something out of a holofilm and, despite the pain, you can’t help but smile a little. Still you at least have half the mind to make sure your skull hasn’t done any lasting harm to Tech. Once you’re sure there’s no more surprise interruptions imminent you shift to check in on Tech, bringing a hand to cup the side of his face angling his head to survey the damage. 

“You okay? Didn’t cause too much damage did I?” His skin is a little rosy from the knock but thankfully there’s no imminent bruising - you don’t think anyone would be particularly happy with you if you’d injured the beloved brains of the group, Tech especially.

Tech waves off your concern with ease, though doesn’t pull away as you tilt his head this way and that. “I am fine, though the impact - while accidental - was less than desirable.”

An understandable sentiment, and an obvious one that makes you chuckle. “Well you can thank your sister for that one.” Saying this you give Tech’s cheek a pat, adding, “Or stay out of headbutting range next time.” 

Tech huffs a little at the sarcasm but returns your smile with one of his own. “I’ll have to keep that in mind.”

“I’m sure you will. Now come on before they decide to fly off without us.”

While you clamber back to your feet on the bank Tech is in no such rush, taking the time to retrieve his datapad before rising to his feet. You move to head back towards the Marauder, taking a few steps before realizing that you’re making the trip alone. Looking back you see Tech staring out over the glowing landscape for a final time, quickly typing something into the datapad now safely back in his hands. 

Tech mutters something as he does so but you don’t catch what. A click later he’s seemingly satisfied with the result and clips the datapad back to its rightful place on his belt, catching up and coming into step beside you in a few brisk strides.

The idea of a peaceful walk back to the ship all but goes out of the window the second another shudder rocks the spacecraft, and Tech’s sigh is one of knowing resignation as his pace picks up. Making a beeline to the hatch you can practically see the gears in his head turning, already forming what you’re sure is a warning on why giving the ship more damage than what it landed with isn’t a good idea.

Shaking your head you follow behind, a smile still tugging at your lips as you prepare yourself for what you’ll find the moment you step onto the Marauder. No doubt a new brand of chaos - but you don’t think you’d have it any other way.

[klbwriting]

Surface Tension

Chapter 8: Shot at the Night

Fandom: Aquaman

Pairing: Ormxfemale!Reader

Warnings: none

Summary: Orm can't do much to help Y/N but he does find someone who can

Note: song is 'Shot at the Night' by the Killers

Taglist: @hyperagitatedcydonian13 @gabrieleskywalker @philiasoul @duchcess

We’re breaking all the rules To find that our home Has long been outgrown Throw me a lifeline Cause honey I’ve got nothing to lose Once in a lifetime

“Why did you settle by the ocean if you’re so afraid of water?” Orm asked, sitting on the back porch with Y/N, watching the waves under the moonlight. She was strumming, singing one of her songs. He was starting to recognize them by now and he knew she sang this one because he liked it. She looked at him and shrugged.

“I used to love the water, felt free and happy in it,” she said. “I told you I was accused of something that I didn’t do. I do bare some responsibility for it though, even though it was an accident. Ever since then, I don’t want to go back into the water, but I can’t let myself forget that day. Part of me wonders if it was my fault.” She stopped strumming and set the guitar aside, wrapping a blanket around herself.

“Did you want someone to get hurt?” he asked. She shook her head. “Not your fault, you shouldn’t stay here feeling guilty. What I did…I wanted to hurt people, all of the pain I caused was because I was angry. You didn’t have that malice.” He looked at the water before looking down at his hands. She reached out and put her hand on his arm, instantly calming him.

“Do you remember feeling like that?” she asked. “Do you ever feel like that now?” He shook his head. “Have you tried to make things right?”

“Yes, I’m trying,” he whispered. She smiled at him and squeezed his arm.

“You’ll get there, let the guilt go, but keep becoming better. I’ll help you, we are better together,” she said.

Orm startled awake, the memory fading from his dream to his waking nightmare. He didn’t know when he had fallen asleep, sometime right before dawn. Last he remembered his mother and Arthur were still there making plans on finding some kind of proof of who tried to kill Orm. The footage was enough to clear Y/N of active treason, but she still could be held for conspiracy. Conspiracy to commit treason was a capital offense in Atlantis and she could still be executed if they didn’t find and get a confession from the culprit.

He was alone now with a note from Arthur that they had left to find proof in Atlantis. Arthur planned to talk to Hendrix and Atlanna was going to talk to Y/N. Orm went over to Y/N’s place. He hated to invade her privacy but maybe she had something. He started searching, trying to ignore that her bed was still unmade from where they had been together, her same clothes from her birthday on the floor around it.

“There has to be something,” he muttered to himself as he went through her closet. He moved some boxes out of the bottom and saw a small door, probably another small storage area behind the wall. He was able to pry it open and inside was a bag. He pulled it out and sat on the floor, looking through it slowly. He pulled out the mosaic of her and her father. It was cheap but well made, a product of the lower city where technology to film wasn’t as widely available. He set it aside carefully. Next came out a flyer for Atlantis for All, listing their goals as equal status, better living conditions, and fairness in the workforce. Orm remembered his father telling him that all those below the nobility were lazy, they just wanted people to hand them money and food without doing anything for it. At the time he had agreed, but this notice listed things that anyone would need to survive and thrive, which is what he thought his father wanted for all Atlantians. He set it aside also and pulled out a stack of papers. This was what he needed, letters to and from different people in AfA.

I work from morning until night, I never see my family, yet they still starve…

My mother died because we couldn’t get her a proper doctor, the nobility never have to worry…

My father died of the sickness King Orvax released when I was a child. King Orvax made me an orphan…

We can fix this. There is a way. King Orm’s coronation is on the first day of the Great Migration…

Here is what he needed. He read through the letter, it laid out a plan to protest, nothing else. They were to have Y/N sing, and Hendrix volunteered to bring the cracker. This was almost enough, but Orm needed something else. Aria was mentioned as one of the leaders of the group. He had to find her; she might have more proof.

Orm wasn’t sure where else to go so he went to the café. It was empty except for Y/N’s friends when he arrived. They were all glaring at him. When he walked in Dean came up and punched him in the face. It didn’t hurt, but Orm wasn’t expecting it and stumbled back a step. Dean was shaking his hand, wincing. He had probably broken a couple fingers. Aria pushed past him.

“Get out tyrant,” she demanded. Orm stood his ground. “We know you did something to her, no one can find her.”

“I didn’t do anything, but Hendrix took her back to Atlantis to face trial for treason,” he said. Aria froze.

“You’re lying, you gave her up,” she said, but her voice lacked conviction.

“If I gave her up I would be on my way to trial too. I’m a fugitive just as much as the two of you,” he said. “We need proof that Hendrix was the one who tried to kill me. I found a letter in her things with the plan for the coronation day, it says Hendrix was to get the cracker, but we need more than that, anything that makes it sound like he alone planned the attempt.” Aria was breathing deep, trying to remain calm.

“How do we know you won’t just take the evidence and destroy it?” Vincent called out. “What if you want to use her to get yourself pardoned?” Orm didn’t have time for this bullshit.

“Because I love her!” he yelled. “Because she is everything to me and I won’t stand by while they execute her. I can’t go back, no one will believe me if I say she is innocent, I’ll just get thrown in a cell next to her, but my brother is king. If I am able to get proof to him he can set this right.”

Aria watched his speech and nodded before motioning for him to come with her. She lived only a few houses down from the café and she also had a bag full of letters. She kept meticulous records and correspondence, including from Hendrix. Hours later she jumped up.

“I found something,” she said, setting the letter down in front of Orm at her kitchen table. By then everyone had joined them, watching. “This is from Hendrix, the day before the coronation. I think I received it by mistake. I never read it because well, I hated Hendrix and anything he had to say was worthless to me.” She pointed to a spot that clearly incriminated him.

“These people are idiots. They’re going to give me the crown and not even realize it. Tomorrow Orm will be dead and I’ll be king,” Orm read. This was perfect.

“Bless that asshole’s giant ego,” muttered Amanda from the couch. Orm stood and hugged Aria.

“I know you hate me but thank you,” he said. He looked between her and Dean. “I am sorry for the tidal wave, for everything. I was wrong and I don’t think I’ll ever forgive myself for it.” He left it at that, hurrying out of the house and calling Arthur to tell him he had proof.

[kittyfuckincheshire]

📺 BREAK TIME 📺 vox x reader smut

Vox always seemed to be busy.never having time for you,as he had to attend several interviews and meetings,most discussing new technology advances and a ways to get his fans under control.he was after all the man who dictated all of it.

You guess it made sense why he had to go so often.but it made you sad you couldn't be around him as much.you silently thought of a way to talk to him or interact with him intimately.chewing your nails slightly, you smirked to yourself,a light bulb in your head clicking.he was in his office..right..?he didn't really like visitors when he was working,but he'd just have to pit up with it.

You hastily stood up from your seat,and looked around as if checking for witnesses before slipping into his office discreetly.He seemed to notice this, his screen tilting up to look at you from the paper work he was doing.His expression was deadpan.looking at you as if he was questioning your decision.

"..your serious?" he flat out asked,giving you a heavy sigh before he shook his "head" and continued to sign of papers,paying you no mind.

You did NOT like that.with knitted brows you strode over to his position and leaned on the back of his chair, looking over his shoulder to gander at the major amount of work he had.you felt a twinge of pity,knowing he was most likely exhausted.you stood there for a good minute, listening to the scratch of the pen on paper over and over again for his signatures.It bore you.

You cleared your throat loudly,much to his disliking,and grabbed the pen from his hand.which caused him to snap his face up to you with a glare.

"give me the pen". Vox demanded sticking his hand out to you. You stuck your tongue out at him,and tossed it in the bin across the room You seriously did not expect it to make it in, but it did. The man stared at the trash can with disdain,before letting out an irritated groan, and standing after pushing the swivel chair out from under the desk,you watched him stand to his full height,sauntering over to the trash can with his hands in his pockets.

"l swear you-", cut him off by pulling him back, tugging at the wrist to swivel him around to face you,Though there was an obvious night difference , but when it came to who was in charge it didn't matter.

You can survive an hour or two without doing that stupid paper work vox,He seemed surprised.

"uh,look baby.I'm a busy man.you gotta deal with that. I have shit to do, so " skedaddle". That mother fucker shooed you with his hand and brushed himself off.

You were having none of it,you grabbed him by the wrist again and started dragging his to the desk.You pushed him back down into his chair,and he grunted,attempting to sit back up but you slammed your hands onto the armrest and pushed his legs open with your knee, standing firmly between them.

"vox. I am your girlfriend, first of all, don't tell me to"skedaddle". Second of all vox you look like you could use a break.So either you let me treat you and relieve you of stress or I bug you all day. Pick.

Vox was cornered,He let out an exaggerated sigh and slumped back into his chair,looking up at you with a huff."Fucking..fine. Fine-fine but only because I KNOW you would annoy the shit out of me. He grumbled, folding his arms over his chest.

You grinned triumphantly, and immediately took a seat on his lap.wrapping his legs around his waist,much to his surprise. You just - just jumped right in, didn't you?

He cleared his throat, attempting to straighten his bow tie before he wrapped his hands around your midsection and pressed his screen head into the crook of your neck,his claws rubbing gentle little circles into the small of your back.maybe he did need a break.he's been so focused on work lately that he's barely had time to sit down and think. Relax. You were there when he needed it, there to remind him he's over worked.

He'd never admit it, but it was comforting to him.he was cocky as fuck.it took him two weeks to say thanks you for doing his laundry one time.But,he was better about it now. His breathing steadied, and his heartbeat slowed, you nuzzled against his shoulder and smiled slightly.

"Hey. dork". You pinched his side and he flinched, and gave you an annoyed huff. " what?" He replied back bluntly yet strangely lovingly.

" I love you. Vox".He froze for a second.Hearing those words were still new to him.He took a second to register what you said and then gave you a little nod in return.

"yeah. Love you too. Even if your annoying as hell". You couldn't really tell but he was blushing.His screen heated up and his grip on you tightened.

Checks out dumb dumb, were already there,he audibly rolled his eyes at that.

"Dumb dumb", what are you five?,You laughed and rocked back and forth with him,he followed your motion reluctantly and breathed in. Focusing on your presence.

After a second or to basking in each others presence, you grazed your lips by his back leaving a trail of kisses down to his collar bone over his suit.Your hands slowly worked there way under the pinstripe jacket top.and carefully worked it off his body.the man grabbed your wrist for a moment and looked up at you, his breathing noticeably changing pace,albeit silence.

"..right here" now?",He whispers to you while looking at his door, you didn't even lock it.

A chuckle left your lips as you raised your eyebrow,Then you'll just have to be quiet,I know how hard this will be for you...pillow princess. He hugged you in the side painfully at the sparky come back and you whined in frustration."you deserved that".

"no I didn't,asshat.I'm just yelling the truth"You insisted,pressing more kisses down the gray skin that is his neck.you began to undo his shiny buttons,and his grasp on your waist loosened.he let out a low hum of satisfaction, watching you take initiative, failing to snap back at your comment, his attention was completely on you now.

"uh huh", his voice was softened,his hands now resting in your bottom casually,While you teasingly sneaked your hands up his shirt and felt all of the edges on your fingertips,the sculpted areas and the softer points,you memorized it all by hand,before sliding off his red,and black vest along with the buttons up beneath it.

"Jesus..your such a fucking tease".

"I can stop", you threatened,a serious look plastered across you face pausing. Leaving your hands right above where his belt was.

Vox bit his tongue and sighed quietly.turning his head out of smite... but yes,he wanted you to continue.and you picked up on this.

You skillfully unhooked his belt from the loop holes in his dress pants and let them pool done to the floor with a small clack from the metal bits attached.your hand hosted over his clothed member,before a few fingers tauntingly strode over the zipper...your fingers pinched said zipper,and pulled down slowly.His clawed hands holding the armrest of his chair for dear life with eagerness. The clawed tips of his hands threatening to tear through.

Youre free hand felt around his back idly and lightly squeezed,as your other one stroked his lower region,at a leisurely pace,taking your time to watch his face contort in a !is of pleasure and impatience,Tv static of as binary bussing from behind his tv head,it took everything in him not to push his hips into your hands,imploring you to give him more.

Every now and then a whimper would slip up and he hide it by staying quiet as long as he could,it was seriously such a sweet sight, watching a powerful man bellow your finger tips be melted and molded to exactly the shape you wanted.

"..please...", vox grunted out,his eyes shaping up to meet yours,his breathing was static and there was a noticeable change in the tightness of his pants,when you stopped your motion,he gained his groin into your palm for a moment in which a shaky exhale following.

".please what?hmm?"you pressed on,your face leaning close to make sure he made eye contact while delivering his request,your hand noticeably slowing down,forcing vox to resort to his own grinding against your hand.

"..just take it out. My pants- they're.. fuck, they're tight.I need you. Okay? His tone of voice was extremely wavered,broken,laced with pure lust. He was giving himself to you at this point.

You were happy to oblige.you undid the last button of his pants, and pulled them down past his hips, he immediately felt a bit better, those pants were always so tedious to deal with when he... You know. As his boxers were the only thing separating you two now, his hands found your forearms and he held on for a second,His chest heavy and his heart pounding,He was looking at you like you were his only hope,like you were his life line, like you were the only one who could help him.

"...and boy, was it a turn on."

Mr.high and !mighty really a submissive brat in the bedroom, vox scoffed at you.

Fine..fine that's what I am now just...god dammit. please.He pressed his screen into the crook of your neck again and you giggled,and slowed your self access into his boxers,He let out a low groan as you began to stroke up and down his shaft with out anything blockingyou.the feel of your bare hands pleasuring him sent him into a spiral,clawing at your back hungrily.

You pushed your thump against his tip,and that earned a whine from the taller man beneath you.his back tensed and his shoulders shrugged up to were his ears should be.you took advantage of this and stroked more near the top,using your free hand to cater the bottom half.he couldn't help himself,he was literally clutching on to you,the Sealy bastard even managed to sneak his hands down your waist and slide two fingers in your jeans,committing to a slow circular movement around your clothed womenhood. And especially that clothed bundle of nerves down there that made you gasp out.

"thought you weren't a loud pillow princes?"You muttered to him softly,shaping him back to reality just a smidge to remind him that he had to be quiet.

"Im...fucking..hmmm not", he exclaimed under his breath,as his back began to arch you could see it,He leaned away from the back of his chair and closer to you,which meaner he was reaching his climax.

"he-hey...stop for a minute",He grabbed your hand with his a valuable one and guided them to his shoulders," I'm close i-i need to feel you. I need..I need to be,he slipped your panties aside with his index finger for a moment,and felt the slick building up between your thighs. You shuddered at the expectation.

"I need to be inside you",He shamelessly admitted in your ear,pulling his hand out so he could unzip your jeans.and then he undid the buttons, you were thinking the same thing,If you didn't know any better you would think you were as painfully turned on as he was.

You gave him a nod of approval and helped him pull your jeans down, letting them pool at your ankles before you kicked them off,vox handled the rest for a moment,pulling you back with the hand on the small of your back to make you sit down.

He watched you with anticipation as you pulled your panties aside and began to sink down on him.you rubbed the end of his member against your opening,purposely dragging this out to make him more frustrated,he let out a growl of restlessness as he dug his hands into your hips,making you drop down on him, the sudden action made you both stutter out and grab hold of something for support, in this case vox held onto you with great strength,his claws threatening to break the skin as you rolled your hips with him inside,Walls closing down on him,your face felt hot and your palms began to sweat.

"Fffuuckk", he drew out the word and chuckled to himself,breathing in deep, "That's it..."

You held onto his shoulders while setting an even pase for the both of you,bringing yourself up and down on top of him, his tip of his shaft hitting places you couldn't yourself,you focused on yourself in this moment to,you had been bent up for weeks,it was only fair that you bought yourself an orgasm to,chasing your own release.

He bucked his hips up and worked with you to bring you down on him and you took him deep,and he was marinating in the delight of this, he let out the occasional moan and mewl, but other times he let out smug chuckles at the way you rode this out to,chasing your own sweet release.

"looms like you were just as needy", he cooked to you as you increased the speed determined to give you both a fulfilling end.

"needy...but your needy and slutty", you huffed out,nearing your climax all to quickly, he seemed to be nearing a little slower than you were,bit you were both on track,He didn't reply. Instead he answers with the deep rumble of his chest satisfied with the speed set here.

It didn't take long before you were both moaning in unison at the climax fast approaching,the knot in your lower region snapped, and you could feel yourself spasm.your walls squeezing the length inside you,This involuntarily made vox squeak.his nails scratching across your hips and it started to sting,but you forced yourself to keep going.

Vox was mumbling your name to himself over and over again, the volume increasing every time you dropped down on him, he eventually snapped not long after you did,and came filling you quickly coating your walls with his thick seed,Weakly,he gave a few more sloppy thrusts from his position and sighed quietly, "Jesus fuckk".

You were both panting and gathering yourselves for a moment there, eyes closed,and bodies connected,he remains inside you,but pulled you close to him,your head resting on his bare chest,listening to his heart hammer against his cheat like he had just run a marathon.

Sitting there in silence slowly began to lull you into a place of zen, your arms rapped around his slender build and his hands combed through your hair,a low buzz coming from his screen.

"you know...you're right",I need to take more breaks,You chuckled to yourself and kisses his screen were his lips would be.

"I'm always right"

WOW 3days on this damn thing,I don't think I'm gonna do a long one like this again for awhile unless requested.well I hope you enjoyed!

[kaesaaurelia]

3rd Life Space Colonist AU Concepts

So I'm very new to MCYT fandom, in the process of watching everything in the Life Series, but while I was watching 3rd Life I could not get the idea of this group having been sent to colonize an alien planet and it going very wrong.

But before things go wrong, they would have had specific roles and reasons they were picked, so I thought a bit about that, and once I had roles figured out I went and played around in Hero Forge to design the characters.

(Also, obviously there would be more than 14 people on an expedition like this and there's certain types of personnel they'd want more than one of, or who are conspicuously missing from this cast list.

You can make of that what you will.)

So, without further ado: some of the personnel aboard a ship heading to the furthest reaches of the galaxy, sent by totally not evil Mars-based corporation Farlands Planetary Systems:

SPACESHIP FLIGHT & MAINTENANCE

At this point in the future, there are machines that can do incredible things, but none of them can quite replicate whatever's going on in Scar's head human decision-making, and on longer journeys where the ship is required to make multiple FTL jumps in quick succession, human intuition and ingenuity are necessary for survival. To that end, pilots are directly plugged into their ships and to some extent, on longer journeys, become the ship. They need to be willing and able to do terrifying things without hesitation or consultation with others. Scar is great at this. He's also an absolute menace everywhere else, but in all fairness it's very hard for him to remember how gravity works on planets when he's used to using it to slingshot himself around in space.

Etho and BDubs aren't JUST there to maintain the ship mechanically -- they'll be rebuilding humanity's technological achievements from the ground up once they get to the planet -- but they're also vital to maintaining the ship across its long journey. BDubs is especially skilled at working in and navigating through zero gravity environments, and he's very used to doing floating repairs. This should have no lasting consequences for him once they get to a planet.

Tango is... an odd one. He's primarily a computer guy, and he's no slouch there, but he's never been on one of these expeditions himself -- see, his family's owned Farlands Planetary Systems for centuries, since before the Martian atmosphere had been been tamed and the planet's population was only a couple thousand. From his comfortable climate controlled office on Mars, he's looked over proposals, decided which ones were most likely to be successful, and signed off on countless exploration missions. He's watched them leave and mostly come back, and he's never encountered a high-risk high-reward situation he couldn't at least break even on. He's about to.

MEDICAL CARE

There's an extensive medical staff onboard, of course -- or there should be, anyway. I'm sure the others are fine!

Martyn is a generalist, good at figuring out what the hell is going wrong and how to stabilize someone's condition in the field with minimal resources. He's good at making difficult decisions quickly and making the sacrifices necessary for long-term survival.

Grian, meanwhile, is a specialist in neurology, and while he's meant to be looking after the whole crew, he's very important on this expedition because he is specifically a specialist in the connection between pilot and ship, and his task is primarily to keep the pilot alive at all costs.

Grian's also very excited about the pioneering medical procedure he's convinced Farlands to give all the personnel on this expedition, which will allow them to completely regenerate after dying -- at least twice! This has technically been possible for a while, but it's never been this fast, and they haven't been able to allow the subjects to retain their memories and personalities until now. It's still experimental but given the high risk nature and high cost of this particular expedition, he feels it's worth the risk, and most people jumped at having not only a second chance at life, but a third!

EXPLORATION & TERRAFORMING

Once they get to the planet, of course, they're going to need to figure out what's already there, and to transform it into a liveable place! So there are various experts who will explore the planet, conduct a full survey of its resources, and work to make it easier for humans to live there. Here we have experts in population biology, minerology, environmental chemistry, xenobotany, and agronomy.

Joel works for Farlands, usually traveling with his wife Lizzie, (an ethnopharmacologist). BigB tends to work on a contract -- there's a lot of call for minerologists in the outer solar system -- but if this expedition is successful, he'll never have to work again, and he won't have to go through the cycle of spending six lonely months in the Kuiper Belt, returning to Earth, then going back out again. Both of them think they know what they're getting into.

Cleo and Scott haven't worked for Farlands before, and are very surprised to be asked, as they have a shared checkered past. Cleo, in her younger days, was convicted of burning down the Martian Prime Minister's house. In fairness, a. he deserved it, and b. it was extremely flammable, because he destroyed a bunch of oxygen farms to build it, out of wood, and was not much of a believer in fire safety regulations. He was not home at the time, so he was fine, but about a year later he was assassinated. No one has ever been formally charged with the crime, but Scott, being one of Cleo's close friends, was the primary suspect. Both of their careers have suffered because of this -- Cleo can't get tenure anywhere, and Scott actually went into hiding for a time -- and while they don't trust Farlands even a little bit, they do like the idea of going somewhere that has no extradition treaties with Mars.

Like BigB, Jimmy's ready to cash out and settle down on a strange planet. He's going to be making sure people have enough edible food on this new planet, since there's no guarantee it will have edible plants or animals.

EXPERTS IN ALIEN LIFE

There's definitely not intelligent life on this new planet. It would be illegal for Farlands to settle a planet that was already occupied! They would never do anything illegal.

But maybe there used to be intelligent life there. Maybe the preliminary probes were inconclusive? Hmm. Anyway. Skizz is a xenoarchaeologist. He's also the only survivor of an expedition that went out in the early 22nd century; they encountered a strange and apparently hostile aliens. His memories are fuzzy and he doesn't remember much except for a strange floating city in a dark void. He made it back to Earth in a stolen alien ship, but while he was gone several hundred years had passed and now everyone he knows is dead. He's anxious to get back into the field, to a planet that is definitely a different one from the one he was sent to where all his friends died, and there's definitely no living intelligent life.

Impulse has been studying that ship Skizz brought back and he's pretty sure these aliens have figured out a method of stable, instant travel between any two distant points, which needless to say the company wants badly. This world seems to have traces of these

Impulse is a xenotechnologist who's pretty sure he's close to wrapping his brain around a method of stable two-way faster-than-light travel that seems to be in use by a distant alien civilization who may have left traces of themselves on this new planet. The company line is that he's also there just to study any remnants of high-tech alien civilizations, but he doesn't have a very good poker face and everyone suspects he knows something he's not letting on.

ALSO... REN

Ren is not a scientist. Ren is Martyn's husband. He is a relatively successful fantasy author whose first two books have sold well, but now he has to finish the trilogy and it's just. not. happening. Martyn had been planning not to go on this expedition -- has in fact been planning to stop going on lengthy expeditions in general, because he'd like to spend more time at home -- but Ren's so tired of his manuscript at this point that he is willing to pack up and move to another planet to avoid writing. He is anxious that people like him and think well of him and also anxious that they never ask him about the book. Please don't ask him what happens in the book. He thought he knew, but he doesn't.

The great thing about this expedition is that that's going to be the least of his problems very, very soon. (Also, he'll be blessedly relieved of the memory of the book, because, like the rest of the surviving crew, all of them will have very few solid memories of anything by the time they get to the planet. But, gotta look on the bright side, right?)

[ianthe-is-a-bitch-and-i-love-her]

I've found that when I review a book that was on the whole quite good, but the element I was most interested in didn't quite play out the way I wanted it to, I tend to spend most of my word count on what I didn't like instead of what I did, so I'm going to try for a little more parity here. The Stars Too Fondly is a thoroughly enjoyable sci-fi romance with a lot to recommend it. It begins on a near-future Earth, twenty years after what was supposed to be the first of many missions to begin evacuating humanity to a new planet using a revolutionary new technology that would make interstellar travel cheap and easy failed dramatically and inexplicably on the launch pad, resulting in the cancellation of the program. A group of four postdocs who watched the failure live on television as kids break into the now-derelict launch facility determined to find out why the launch failed and what happened to the crew, all of whom vanished without a trace during the catastrophe. However, the ship inexplicably powers up and launches with them on board, and now they not only have to solve the mystery but also figure out how to survive their multi-year interstellar journey and return, with the help of the ship's onboard AI who, for some reason, has been programmed to be a perfect copy of the missing captain of the original expedition.

I really enjoyed the tone and setting of the book, which is much more Star Trek than it is The Martian, with much more focus placed on character drama, mystery solving, and moral dilemmas than logistical puzzle-solving. The influence of Star Trek: Voyager in particular are worn proudly in both plot elements - a holographic artificial intelligence with questions about her personhood, an unplanned years-long journey that the crew is trying to shorten - and smaller elements, such as the use of food replicators and even a direct reference to the show's most famous episode, Threshold.

The characters were solid and compelling, with engaging dynamics unique voices. I also, barring one personal gripe, really liked the book's exploration of queer experiences. If I found myself on an unplanned space mission, I would also be very concerned about how I was going to get HRT meds!

The book makes use of a combination of plausible hard sci-fi theories, which stopped me from giving the concept of a dark matter engine my usual obligatory eyeroll, and bonkers off the wall pseudo magic soft sci-fi. These elements synergized better than I was afraid they would, but the introduction of the softer elements was a little jarring. Also kinda like Star Trek actually.

The plotting was perfectly solid, though not extraordinary by any means. None of the twists and turns were particularly surprising, but neither did they come across as trite or formulaic. The themes weren't anything novel either, but they were well-supported and conveyed. The writing itself was mostly pretty good, with a few of the rough edges and structural oddities that I've come to expect from debut novels.

So now that I've actually given the book its due, I'm gonna dig too deep into what I found disappointing.

I've noticed a bit of a trend between the last few books I've felt really compelled by, and that's the idea of a character falling in love with someone who, by their very nature, they are not going to be able to have an "ordinary" relationship with. It's what drew me to Flowers for Dead Girls, which is about falling in love with a ghost. It's what drew me to Someone You Can Build a Nest In, which is about a psychologically and physiologically inhuman monster falling in love with a human. And it's what initially drew me to this book, which is about a human falling in love with the hologram of a dead woman - a space ghost, if you want, or a ghost in the machine, if you'd rather. All of these books take some pains to explore the rough edges of these relationships, where the participants' desires are stymied by their physical differences. However, where the previous two books end with the characters establishing an equilibrium of sorts where their needs are met, even if their relationship doesn't look like what society or their own imaginations expected them to look like, The Stars Too Fondly just neatly resolves things such that their differences are no longer a concern and they can have exactly what they imagined. And I found that to be cheap and unsatisfying, especially because the resolution only works if you really, really want it to work. When you start digging into it, it starts falling apart.

It's a symptom of a phenomenon I'm calling, "So You Want to Have Your Tragedy and Eat it Too". It arises when an author has an idea for a very compelling and evocative tragic event or outcome that results in rich character moments and strong thematic resonance and very profound emotions that they really want to explore... but it would also make the happy ending they want for their characters impossible, either because the rules they've established for their story mean that the damage can't be reversed, or because the change is such that, even if the conflict were apparently resolved, the characters have now been changed by the event that they can never be as they were before, and the happy ending is now emotionally impossible.

When this conundrum comes up in the writing process, the author has to decide - do they want to explore the rich possibilities of this tragedy, or do they want to go a different direction that allows for their originally desired happy ending. It's a difficult choice to make, and unfortunately, it's not uncommon for authors to think they can take a third option, that they can come up with a way to have their tragedy but still make things work out in the end. And the end result is a solution that doesn't hold up to scrutiny. That's what happens here, to the point that it's hard to read the last couple chapters because the main character reads like she's deluding herself that everything is fine and she's happy. And you know, that could've been a really interesting - and tragic - direction to go on purpose and explore, but it wasn't on purpose, and it just winds up feeling like the book is trying desperately to convince the reader that everything is alright, really! I can't help but compare it unfavorably to the conclusion of Lovelace's arc in The Long Way to a Small Angry Planet, which confronted the fact that nothing could ever be the same again so unflinchingly that it gave rise to A Closed and Common Orbit, one of my favorite books of all time (that I completely forgot when I was trying to list some of my favorite books in a conversation the other day and now I feel like I've betrayed it).

And while I have you here, I also really hate that they made the transfem side character super into astrology. That's a personal bugbear, and while it's one I have grudgingly tolerated the singular time that I have seen a transfem author do it, I really, really wish non-transfem authors would knock that shit off. Find a different quirky interest to give to your transfem characters.

Still, on the whole, I thought it was a really solid book with a lot of entertaining and compelling elements. Unless you are reading it primarily for the logistical and emotional challenges of a romantic relationship between a ghost and a human, I would recommend it without hesitation. If you are, check out any of the other books I referenced in this post instead (except maybe for A Closed and Common Orbit, but if you're the kind of person who would like those other recommendations, I bet you'd like it too).

[hollowed-hours]

In a future where technology can simulate emotion and fabricate the past, one man falls into a memory he didn’t live, but can’t live without. Closed Loop explores synthetic intimacy, identity, and the blurred line between real and remembered.

Closed Loop

1

The rain didn’t stop. It just changed density, like a bad signal trying to come through. Fat drops, mist, needle-fine spray, all the same. It clung to the cracked pavement and the cracked people walking in it, washing nothing clean.

The streets pulsed under a dozen stories of electric billboards, flashing fake smiles and forbidden luxuries. Perfume. Cruises. Fresh fruit. Things nobody in this part of town could afford. Nobody even looked up anymore.

I ran my small store out of an alley that stank of fried grease and regret, tucked between a synthmeat vendor and a pawn shop that would buy your teeth if you ran out of cash. Which you would. Sooner or later.

You didn't smell rain here. You smelled old oil, rust, hot garbage. Even the neon had a scent, if you stayed too long: a sharp metallic tang, like blood left to rot in a forgotten room. Trees were something you saw in old movies. Birds were a myth they still taught in school, maybe to keep kids from climbing out onto the fire escapes. Life wasn't lived here. It was survived.

Business was good, if you didn't think about it too hard. Memories, bottled, stitched, pawned, sold better than food, better than sex, better than air. I sold glimpses of a world that used to exist. Or maybe it never had. Didn't matter. People paid to believe.

Cheap memories went to the factory rats and bus station junkies: the taste of real beef, the scratch of a dog’s fur under your hand, a summer afternoon where the sky stretched blue and wide. You could get a five-minute slice of happiness for less than a rice bowl.

The rich ones wanted more. Romance. Nostalgia. Love, if you could call it that. The kinds of memories you didn't have to squint to pretend were yours. I’d built up a special collection for them. Premium stock. Real heart-stoppers.

Not that I used the product myself. I knew better.

Until the night everything changed.

2

They always came to me wrapped in plastic raincoats, their collars turned up against the stink, trying not to look desperate. They shuffled in from the puddled streets, blinking against the neon glare like rats scurrying out of a sewer. Men in rumpled suits, women in threadbare dresses that still carried a whiff of old perfume, ghosts of a better life none of us believed in anymore.

Business was steady tonight. Steadier than usual. Maybe the rain drove them in. Maybe the city had just broken a few more souls than it fixed this week.

I ran a clean shop. No black-market cortex jacks, no memory dumps ripped from dying minds. All my product was curated: licensed uploads, private captures, some stitched and smoothed at the edges to make the dreams run sweeter. Didn't matter. Nobody asked for credentials. They just wanted to forget.

A kid with scabbed hands paid half a week's wages for fifteen minutes at a dinner table with people who loved him. A factory woman with joints gone stiff from the line bought the memory of a hike through an evergreen forest, the kind that hadn't existed within a thousand klicks in decades.

And the rich? They came later. Drenched in silk and chrome, they wanted curated love affairs and impossible summers. They paid triple for something tender. Something rare.

I dealt to them all, took their credits, watched their eyes go glassy with longing. I told myself it was just a business.

And maybe it was. Until she showed up.

3

He came in just before closing. Suede coat that hadn’t seen rain, shoes that cost more than my rent. The kind of man who worked for someone important, but not important enough to smile.

“She’s looking for something refined,” he said. “Said you deal in authenticity.”

Authenticity. As if pain had to come with a certificate.

“I deal in memories,” I said, dragging my hand across the cluttered console. “Authentic’s extra. You want real emotion? Real love? That’ll cost.”

He didn’t flinch. Just placed a cred-stick on the counter. “She wants it delivered tomorrow night.”

I nodded. “Then she’ll get what she paid for.”

The suite was thirty floors up, above the rot, the gutters, the boiling noise of the street. The kind of place where the windows showed filtered sky and soft rain sound was imported for ambiance.

She opened the door herself. No staff, no security. Just her, in silk the color of warm gold, whispering under the suite lights, leaning against the frame like we’d met before.

“Didn’t think you’d deliver personally,” she said.

“You live high up,” I said. “Figures.”

She smiled. “Up here, we like to forget how the city smells.”

I handed her the chip. “Maybe, but you’re no different than the rats who crawl into my shop. You just have more creds. Buys you the good dreams.”

Her smile widened. Not offended…amused. She stepped closer. Close enough that I could smell her perfume, spiced citrus and money.

“Then maybe you’ll understand why I like the ones that feel real.” She turned the chip in her fingers. “Want to try it?”

“Not my thing.”

“It could be,” she whispered. “This one’s... special. You should feel what she feels like. Just once.”

She slid the chip toward me like a bribe. Or a dare.

4

I stared at the chip for a long time. Long enough for the neon buzz outside to start drilling holes in my skull.

I didn’t use. That was the first rule. Dealers don't sample the product. Not if they want to stay in the game.

But tonight...

The rain had been mean, the customers meaner. Every face that stumbled into my shop had been chasing something they couldn’t name. I’d spent hours selling them ghosts. Smiles. First loves. Family dinners that probably never happened.

Maybe it was curiosity. Maybe it was spite.

Maybe I just wanted to know, for once, what the hell they were all running toward.

"One taste," I muttered. "One time."

I slotted the chip.

For a second, nothing. Just black. Then the world cracked open like an egg.

Sunlight.

Real sunlight, bleeding through a canopy of green leaves so bright it hurt. The air smelled... clean. Not filtered, not burned. Alive.

She was there, barefoot in the grass, laughing at something I hadn’t said yet. The sound hit me like a memory I didn’t know I was missing.

I stumbled forward, blinking against the golden sky, and the ground beneath me was soft. No cracked asphalt, no metal. Just earth. Real earth.

She turned, sunlight catching in her hair. She held out a hand.

And somewhere, tucked behind her voice and the hum of unseen bees, a word slipped loose in my mind.

Jasmine.

I breathed it in. God, I breathed it in like it was the last clean thing in a dirty world.

The scent wrapped around me, sweet and sharp, a kind of gold in the air. I didn’t know how I knew the word. Nobody sold anything that smelled so sweet  in this part of the city. Nobody sold anything that wasn’t fried, frozen, or rotting on the vine.

But the memory whispered it anyway, soft and certain: jasmine.

She smiled like she’d been waiting forever, like there was no one else in the whole damned world but us. And for a second, for a breath it didn’t matter that I wasn’t him. It didn’t matter that I was borrowing this life like a suit two sizes too small.

I could feel the weight of her hand when she caught mine. Warm. Real.

"Stay," she said, voice threading into the wind, into the leaves, into the memory itself.

I didn’t answer. Couldn’t. The memory ended before I could speak, snapping back like a broken rubber band, dumping me onto the floor of my shop with the static buzz of dead neon burning the inside of my skull.

I lay there for a long time, staring up at the cracked ceiling, the scent of jasmine still clinging to the back of my throat.

Reality came back slow and ugly. The hum of the city, the stink of rust and old oil rising through the floorboards.

I wiped at my eyes before I even realized they were wet.

I told myself it was the static burn. I told myself it didn’t mean anything.

I told myself a lot of things that night.

And every one of them was a lie.

5

I told myself I wouldn’t slot it again.

One taste. One time. That’s all it was supposed to be.

But the chip sat there on the counter, humming against my brain like a live wire. Every time I closed my eyes, I could see her laughing in that field that couldn't possibly exist.

It wasn’t just the sight of her. It was the air. The light. The way the world felt in that memory, like it had a heartbeat bigger than mine. Like breathing didn’t have to hurt.

After a while, the customers’ faces started to blur. Their hunger, their whining, their creds, all background noise to the throb in my hands, the itch in my spine.

Three nights after the first time, I closed up early. Pulled the shutters, killed the lights.

Slotted the chip.

And fell back into her arms.

It got easier after that. Easier to slip away from the stink and the noise. Easier to forget the rules.

I'd tweak the feeds, stitch together glimpses of her smile from one memory, her voice from another, the way her hand brushed mine in the fading sun.

Piece by piece, I built her.

Not the memories themselves. Her.

I stopped selling for a while. Let the shop run dry. Didn’t care. The clients would wait. Or they wouldn’t.

What did it matter?

Out there was rust and rain and broken neon.

In here, there was jasmine.

I told myself I was just riding it out. A bad spell. A little escape before I got back to work.

But somewhere inside, a part of me knew better.

I wasn’t visiting anymore.

I was moving in.

6

I found the truth in a pawnshop wired to collapse.

The owner was half-machine, half-rumor, a whisper stitched together by back alley deals. He didn’t deal in memories, he dealt in origins. Where the clips came from. Who built them. Why they were made.

I didn’t want to ask. Didn’t want to know.

But by then, the ache was too deep. I had to find more of her. I had to find all of her.

"Pretty piece of work," the owner said, tapping the chip I'd slid across the counter. His fingers left greasy prints on the casing. "Real high-end emotional mapping. Best I've seen. Synthetic, but... damn good."

My throat dried up.

"Synthetic," I said.

He grinned, showing a mess of teeth that had seen better years. "Memory Farms, Inc. Model 7-A DreamWeave. Romantic bundles. Limited edition."

He tossed the chip back to me.

"That field? That laugh? That scent?" He shook his head, chuckling. "She ain't real, pal. Never was. Custom work for the luxury market. Whole worlds stitched together for folks who like their fantasies rich and easy to swallow."

I didn't remember leaving the shop. Didn't remember walking back through the rain.

Only the way the world looked different. Grayer. Smaller.

Empty in a way that even the city couldn't explain.

She wasn’t someone I’d lost.

She was something they built.

And I still loved her like she was breathing somewhere under that fake blue sky, waiting for me to come home.

7

I stopped chasing scraps after that.

No more street brokers. No more backroom hacks. No more pawing through dead men’s memories hoping to find her smile tucked between someone else’s regrets.

She wasn’t real.

But I could make her real.

I locked myself in the shop, killed the feeds, rerouted the power. Set up a closed loop system, full immersion, one-way ticket. An endless dream that wouldn’t crack or fade or dump me back into the cold stink of the streets.

I wasn’t building a memory anymore.

I was building a world.

It took days, maybe weeks. The clocks stopped meaning anything after a while. I stacked the fragments like bones, wove the scenes together with precision and wire and blind, stubborn need.

In this place, she would be waiting.

In this place, the sunlight would always find us.

I didn’t tell anyone. Didn’t leave a note. Didn’t lock the door behind me.

There was no one left to miss me.

Not really.

The last thing I heard before I slipped under was the rain, hammering the city into mud.

Then even that was gone.

8

I woke to sunlight.

Not the cracked white glare of neon. Not the sickly blue wash of billboard screens.

Real sunlight, slow and golden, pooling across the grass.

The air was thick with it, the scent of jasmine, heavy and sweet, wrapping around me like a blanket pulled from some forgotten childhood dream.

She was there, sitting under a tree with blossoms dusting her hair, smiling like she’d been waiting for me forever.

When she stood and crossed the field, her feet made no sound against the earth. Her hand found mine, warm, familiar, certain.

"I’m happy you’re here," she said.

I tried to answer, but the words caught somewhere between memory and dream.

Maybe I didn't need words anymore.

I followed her toward the water’s edge, where the river caught the sky and the sky caught the river, and the whole world blurred into something soft and endless.

No rain.

No rust.

No city.

Just jasmine on the wind and a hand that would never let go.

It wasn’t real.

But it was ours, forever.

[19blackbutterfly97-blog]

Twisted Bonds - Part 13

Word Count: 2097

Warnings: Language, themes/talks of mass destruction/extinction/eradication, talks of feelings

A.N.: Hey ya'll! I finally finished this part! I'm working on wrapping this fic up. Thank you for the likes, comments and reblogs! Happy Reading!!!!

Twisted Bonds Masterlist

Divider by: @k1ssyoursister

“Well, Miss. Belova. I must say that I’m surprised that you’re here.”

“Yes, I understand and again, I’m sorry for not calling before but this isn’t about me and we’re running out of time.” Alice says, doing her best to keep following the professor through the halls of the old mansion turned school, her tired body screaming at her to slow down as she dodges students of all ages.

“Hm… You’re scared.”

“Yes but again, this isn’t just about me. It’s not even about my potential Alphas.”

Charles sighs a little. “Humanity has the potential to survive. With or without my help.”

“Respectfully sir, I’m not asking for your help or the help of your team. I’m requesting to look at whatever files you have on the Shi’ar.”

“Which is still asking for help.” Charles answers before stopping and turning his chair to look at her. “They don’t know you’re here. None of them do.”

“Please, Professor. They need this information. We all do.” Alice pleads, fighting back the tears in her eyes. “Life as we know it is on the brink of disaster. Extinction from a single species that you’ve defeated multiple times before. I need to know how you did it.”

“My dear, we have never truly defeated the Shi’ar. We merely created alliances to keep peace on the planet.”

“Then why are they threatening us now?”

Charles hummed slightly as he thought about his answer. “The man you work for, Stark, he’s an innovator. A man that pushes creativity to its limits more often than not.”

“They’re targeting Omegas specifically.” Alice interrupts him.

“The world is a better place with you in it.”

“I still don’t understand what that has to do with anything. How does my designation correlate with creativity? Why does it matter?”

“After all that you’ve learned and you still don’t understand it?” Charles asks with a knowing smile before turning his chair again and motioning for Alice to follow him into his office. “Alphas in every generation have done what they can to protect their Omegas, to make their lives better. Why do you think that is?”

“Love and devotion.”

“Close but you’re still missing a piece of the puzzle. Omegas are the reason Alphas strive to do better. It’s instinct; primal, raw and ancient. It’s in their nature to advance technology and security.”

“I know that.” Alice huffs and practically collapses into a chair. “I just don’t understand why the Shi’ar have such a problem with it.”

“The Shi’ar have always been against creativity. They look at it as a disease. Dreams, innovations, in a way happiness. They found peace and civility in the advancement of technology without dreaming.”

“How does that work? I mean seriously, what does their war on creativity have to do with our societal structure?”

“You’re asking the wrong question again.” Charles laughs. “Their society as a whole was able to advance and adapt without secondary genders. They believe that our society would be better off if we did the same.”

“So, they’re just totally fine with wiping out billions of people in the name of progress? How do we stop them?”

A small smile graces Charles’ face as he looks at her. “You’re finally asking the right questions. Take the elevator at the end of the hall to the basement. Ask for Jean, she can help you.”

Alice nods and stands up, pulling her bag strap up tighter on her shoulder. “Thank you, professor, thank you so much.” She smiles before bouncing out of the office and rushing down the now empty hall to the elevator. Once downstairs Alice wasted no time in tracking down Jean Grey who helped her get started on going through files in Charles’ private study.

Hours passed by like minutes as Alice immersed herself in research. Page after page of battle recounts, mission reports and the most helpful, recordings of negotiations between the X-men and the Shi’ar. It was like a goldmine to the analyst; whispers of newfound knowledge already forgotten were jotted down and memorized by Alice who was beyond determined more than ever to find a peaceful solution. The data only proved what she already thought, that there was a chance for a non-violent end. With any luck this whole thing will blow over without incident, she just has to figure out how to make Tony and the others understand. Bucky especially when she thinks about it. He’s been the main one panicked and on edge. At first he didn’t want to let Alice leave his side and she let that happen until her heat hit. Now, she’s left confused.

“No, no, we’re not going down that rabbit hole.” She mutters to herself tiredly and shakes her head before turning her attention back to her notepad. It’s her favorite distraction but it doesn’t help one bit when a cool breeze flows in the room and her skin chills. She finds herself missing the warmth of not only Bucky, but Steve too.

The way they held her safely between them, nestled deep in their protective embraces. They kept her safe, warm, satisfied and satiated whenever she needed them and right now, whether she wanted to admit it or not she needed them. Or she wanted them at least because she finally gave in and turned her phone on, allowing the location to ping off the nearest cell tower, giving them the first indication of her location in almost six hours. She didn’t even realize how long she’d actually been gone until now as she stared down at the barrage of missed calls and unanswered texts, each more frantic than the last. She didn’t allow herself to believe that the team would ever in a million years care about her enough to blow her phone up this much… Or that they’d bother to already be suiting up and speeding across the state to get to her as soon as they could.

Alice didn’t realize she had even fallen asleep until she felt the soft weight of a blanket being tucked around her shoulders. “Wh-what?” She mutters to herself as she sits up more, wiping a trail of drool from her chin.

“Sorry, you looked cold.” The man said, smirking as he leaned a hip against the table’s edge. “I’m Logan. Don’t freak out, I sort of live here.”

Alice nods a little, slowly blinking the sleep from out of her eyes as she looks up at him. He’s tall and muscular, not quite as big as Steve but he could easily touch the top of a bookshelf without a struggle and the saddest eyes she’s ever seen on anyone besides Bucky. Judging by the scent on the blanket wrapped around her, he’s definitely an Alpha. “What time is it?”

“Almost four in the morning.”

“Oh, gods.” She groans and stands up, stretching her limbs. “I didn’t mean to stay this long. I’m- I’m so sorry. I’ll uh, I have a room in town. I should go.”

“Calm down. Nobody’s asking you to leave. There’s an extra room upstairs you can stay in. No point in leaving in the middle of the night.” Logan says.

“I don’t want to be a bother. I really have no problem with-.”

“Don’t worry about it, sweets. You’re not imposing.” He insists, letting a smirk tug the corner of his lips. He straightens up and heads for the door, expecting her to follow. Alice hesitates for a moment before gathering up her things and following a few paces behind him. She’s wary but the thought of being in a bed instead of curled up in a lounge chair sounds too appealing to turn down. Logan’s scent wraps around her in the elevator but instead of the comfort feeling he hoped it’d bring her, it just put her further on edge. She has no real reason to, he hasn’t touched her, hasn’t said anything rude or out of turn but his aloof politeness is enough to make her question.

“Is uh… is everything okay?” She asks as they step out on the main floor of the mansion.

“Yes? Why wouldn’t it be?”

Alice shrugs a little. “I know how crazy it sounds but I’m an unbonded Omega and you haven’t tried to flirt with me once. You’re being very cordial.”

“You don’t smell it?” He asks, pausing halfway down the hall.

“Smell what?”

“Leather and beach air. You smell like an Alpha. I assumed you were scent bonded.”

Alice practically freezes midstep. Her shoulders tense along with every muscle down her back. She hadn’t thought about that, didn’t even notice the way Alphas had been treating her the same as a Beta since her heat. She smelled like a perfect mix of Steve and Bucky, their scents subtly accompanying her own. “No, I’m- Well, I guess… I mean…” She sighs and shakes her head. “It’s not official.” She finally manages to mutter out as the mansion door swings open.

Logan catches the movement and his adamantium claws push through the skin between his knuckles as he moves to stand protectively in front of Alice. Three silver claws glint in the moonlight as he squares his body, ready to attack if needed. “Who are you?” He calls out as figures begin to file in the open door. Panic fills Alice, being in a new place there’s too many new scents overpowering the hallway and in that moment she really can’t move. She moves a bit to hide behind Logan, working up the courage to help if she needs to. She focuses her breathing the way Steve taught her to and balled up her fists like Bucky drilled into her. She’s ready and pivots to look at the potential threats as Logan turns to tell Alice to run but doesn’t get the chance.

The moment Alice catches sight of a familiar figure in the darkness she calms instantly. “Bucky!” She squeaks happily and rushes past Logan.

“Lil’ Bit.” Bucky says, dropping his gun to the floor just in time to wrap his arms around her waist, pulling her to his chest and spinning her around. “Do you have any idea how worried we’ve been?”

“Alice.” Steve scolds and secures his shield to his back as he joins the pair. “Are you insane? Do you know how dangerous this is? You could’ve been killed.”

“But I wasn’t.” She mutters, burying her face in Bucky’s chest, ignoring the bite of the buckles of his tactical vest on her cheek. “I needed to do this.”

“Running away to do it wasn’t the answer.” Steve says.

“I know, but I did find out a lot of information and-.”

“And you haven’t slept right in days.” Bucky cuts her off. “I’m willing to bet you haven’t eaten enough since last week and we all know you’re avoiding us.”

“Damn Barnes, we just found her. Is now really the best time for this?” Yelena chastises him, pulling Alice out of his grip to look her over. “You’re alive.”

“Obviously.” Alice rolls her eyes.

“Don’t get smart with me, little sister. You’re still half useless in a fight.”

“Um, excuse me, is anyone going to introduce us?” Sam says, pointing to a still defensive Logan who’s now backed by more of the X-men.

Alice drops the insult she was preparing to throw at her sister and slowly turns to look at the new formed group. “Easy, that’s Jean, Scott, Storm and Logan.” She shrugs and leans back against Steve’s chest, giving into her instincts. It catches him off guard for a moment before he gives in as well and wraps his arms around her waist and buries his face in her hair, breathing in her scent. It’s muted but he assumes it’s due to stress.

“Making new friends, Omega?” He teases and kisses her neck.

“Mhm.” She smiles up at him, barely catching Bucky’s gaze before looking away quickly. Something is off about this entire situation and he knows it. He just can’t quite place what it is yet. Could be the X-men he had run-ins with as the Winter Soldier. Could be the way she drifted towards Steve and snuggled up to him so easily. Could be the way she stifled that insult to Yelena, since fighting with her sister is one of her favorite pastimes… It could also be the way she shys away from him without a second glance. It hurts, he can feel anger and jealousy bubbling in his chest with a low growl. The feelings mix with uneasiness, something he’s familiar with but never when it comes to Alice.

[niftukkun]

leaving home is never easy. but sooner or later, you must leave behind what you knew.

when monstera and monger were younger, they were separated from their parent. luckily, they wandered into a scavenger tribe kind enough to take them both in, despite their oddities. but one cannot live in a world not made for them without consequences. monstera and monger leave. for better pastures? for the hope of finding their parent? it doesn't really matter, does it? they left because they couldn't stay.

anyway worldbuilding under the cut

this scav tribe is in outer expanse, or an area/region close by but still outside pebbles and moon's walls. its in a wetlands biome, a grand tree draped with vines and architecture. bigger than a toll, but not quite the city metropolis became. the tree blooms with fruit, not enough to feed all the scavengers, but enough to help bolster their ranks. the outer edges of the tree act like any other toll, but unless youre trusted by scavengers (chieftain passage unlocked) you wont be let near the grand tree.

the large space within the tree and under its roots help the scavengers grow their community, outposts just at the edges of its roots guard the growing populous and brighter scavengers focus in on building food stores, learning how to heal, and advancing their meagre technology without much fear. architects build out from the tree, poles and platforms spiraling upwards and out, with a few braver scavengers experimenting with canopy bridges to other trees. still, life in the rain world is brutal, and the unforgiving rains are much more fickle in their timing outside of iterator territories.

scavengers are family, no matter what. even if a scavenger kills another scavenger, it must have been an accident, or perhaps there was a reason. this type of mentality, where it is no man for themself, where you help family survive, even if you despise them, helps scavengers as a species thrive in rain world. however, this comes at a cost: their trust in other species. it doesn't matter if it was an accident, if youre not a scav, one step out of line can and will mean death, for you threaten the family. yet, trusted non-scavengers will often be helped, a squad keeps them safe, and tolls will be free. this way of life extends to monstera and mongers time in the grand tree scavenger community, where they were raised kindly and taught everything the scavengers knew, treated like any other scavenger child,, but the moment either of them were seen as a threat? exile, at best. at worst, well, that deep in scavenger territory, itd be hard to escape.

scavengers are jumpy and paranoid,, but not malicious. it helps that monger was familiar with and to scavengers, even before meeting pearl travelling parent. monstera, on the other hand, is both new and holds a mutation of a terrifying creature. if mo didn't grow up and into moss mutation while with the scavengers, then mo would have had a harder time getting the scavs to trust moss. as it is, all mo can do is act in a way that wont scare scavs,, but what an exhausting life to lead, acting unnaturally just to be trusted by those around you. labelled weird, or even dangerous, for just being alive. anyway the scavs do hold some fondness for both monstera and monger, so the two slugcats leave home with gifts. a mask and two pearls for monger, and the finest spear for monstera. not that thats saying much, its still just a spear

[looks at my outline for finding myself homeward bound] like, none of this shows up in the story btw. theres some scavenger interaction, but the main story happens after m&m left the grand tree community,, ,

[siderealscribblings]

I want to start by saying I love GoD so much! I found it by chance and it has become my favourite Genshin series on AO3!

Because I loved it so much, and since I’ve also been following you on this lovely hell site for a little bit, I wanted to read your Devil catcher series because it sounded so fun and entertaining from the snippets you post occasionally. I’m loving it so far but since I have borderline knowledge of the persona series (basically only P5/P5R) so I’m not totally understanding all the concepts so could you give me, and maybe others who want to read, some ‘need to know’ info for those who don’t really know the Shin Megami Tensei series very well (aka. Me aha)? No worries if not, I’m totally willing to do the research because I’m already invested 4 chapters in.

Again, love your work, it’s all so scrumptious!!

Thank you! Glad you're dipping into P5. Since it's such a wild AU, not a lot of prior knowledge of the series is needed (none of the plot beats carry over 1:1 so don't worry about that).

Here's a short breakdown:

Demons exist in a plane called the "Metaverse", a world where ideas and thoughts are made reality by the power of human belief (i.e. there is a demon that looks and behaves like the Norse god Loki because Loki is a prominent figure in the minds of many humans throughout history.

Demons thrive on magatsuhi, the physical form of spiritual energy that looks like blood and powers everything from machinery to Demons' bodies. Magatsuhi can be gained through worship or by draining a human's soul of energy, leaving them little more than hollow husks if they survive.

Demons have preyed on humanity for years and each country has a force dedicated to fighting them. In Japan, that's S.E.E.S. (Spectral Exorcism and Eradication Squad), a modern paramilitary organization founded on the former Cult of Yatagarasu that protected Japan in the pre-Shogunate days. S.E.E.S. uses mystical technology to capture demons in kudas which trained agents called Devil Summoners can use to battle other demons (tl;dr psychic demon Pokeballs). Devil Summoners train at an academy before joining the force, frequently meeting grisly ends at the hands of demons.

Other Key terms:

Mementos is a city in the Metaverse that S.E.E.S. occasionally goes to for research/business purposes.

Fiends are demons of such incredible power/lethality that they defy classification. Most demons are assigned a number based on their danger (a small Pixie is Category 1 while a monstrous Cerberus is Category 5).

The Herald of Yatagarasu is an Oracle possessed by an ancient spirit with the ability to see ghosts/demons. Kujikawa Rise was a former idol/actress until she started having visons and was taken in by S.E.E.S.

Raidou Kuzunoha was a legendary Devil Summoner so renowned and feared by demons that the name became a title given to the most senior investigative agent. The current Kuzunoha is Shirogane Naoto

Let me know if you need any other scaffolding but I think since it's so offbase you should be able to get by without any hard information. I would look up what the main characters look like (even if they're older in the fic) since I don't really give much in the way of character descriptions for returning fans.

[carrera-ffxiv]

The Bitter Taste

The sound of the chronometer grated in her ears. She meticulously scoured through each letter, each number, each symbol, each nonsensical scribbling along the margin of myriad tomes and grimoires; yet her efforts yielded nothing. Tick-tock, tick-t-

A shattering reverb, the exploding glass sounded, mixed in with grating teeth cracking at the sheer pressure. Steel and metal bits dislodged itself from the clock along the wall.

Well, there goes the rest of her bottle.

Her rage had consumed what little patience she had left.

She thought she’d have time for it all, time to enjoy anything and everything. Her hubris had given her the luxury of a dream though she’d been stuck in a nightmare. She should have been grateful for what she had. Always, she wanted more-- always a little more, a little more, just a little more until her avarice could take none. Immortality; she’d joke about it-- that it was the ultimate goal of her research and that she’d share such a treasure with others should she uncover the secret to it.

The unfortunate truth was that her research expedition into Tural had garnered her little. The prospect of Alexandrian technology and the recycling of souls were such a promising lead… yet in the end only false hope lied in the end of an empty bottle. Her condition was not compatible with such technology.

She heard the quiet chittering in the back of her mind grow into a cacophony. The void chewing into the cords of her mind, growing into a chorus of masticated neurons and torn sinew. Such a fool to continue enjoying life as she had but what choice was there? Was she to lament the end of her life and make everything miserable and hopeless for those few around her? Or was she to continue her grandiose project in hopes to usher in a new era for herself and those few comrades?

She was never going to be satisfied with simply living. She needed more: more time. How else would she unravel all the secrets of the world, all the spells, all the potential of her Mhachian blood? She was destined to be the last and greatest Mage of the Black in her bloodline and all bloodlines, after all. Carrera glared at the blackened veins and ichor running through her arm, into her hand. What she wrought in Bleakpoint-- uncovering the artifact, unearthing Creature, sundering and taking its body for more power. It was all a foolish quest. She was corrupted from the core, out and now it consumed her extremities. She could no longer maintain a glamour to cover the ugliness she had wrought.

She did all she could through many moons to slow the infection. For what little it was worth, at least the infection did well enough to stay the frayed shards of her mind from fraying even further. It gave her some semblance of coherence and peace, a reprieve from the bloodlust she lived and drowned in. The compulsions of a shattered mind slowly subsiding and giving her a semblance of peace. Her cousin’s subtle glances always gave Carrera the impression that she knew something was different about her- more stable in the latter months. Or maybe it was the familiarity of the creature inside of Vahalia whose body Carrera had taken into herself. It didn’t matter who absorbed what or where, now they were both sentenced to corruption of both body and soul. Mayhap she would fare better.

It was meant to be a gift; this was planned while she was still twisted in the mind. In retrospect she had cursed everyone whom she’d have ever come to care about. She had promised Laphiline a courtship and a lofty future which she knew she could provide- should she survive. It was clear now, she wasn’t going to. She hated lying. Still, it was time to wrap up everything. She knew now without any doubt that she wouldn’t survive much longer and every avenue has brought her to a dead end; Even her desperate study into necromancy.

“I hope you understand, sweet Laphi…” she’d grip at the page her hand rested on, tearing from a priceless tome whose secrets would now be lost to eternity. She tore, and tore, and tore as tears streamed down her face. What good was it all if there were no answers?

After the tantrum subsided she’d slump in her chair. 

She would need to make plans in the coming days before she withdrew into nothingness. She’d use the guise of caring for her sick mother to escape into the night. She’d prepare administration and correspondence to leave her assets in her cousin’s care. Her businesses, arms contracts, even a glowing recommendation to the Ambassador of Doma to Hingashi to help with her contacts and business. Not that she would have had trouble with convincing the man to help, mayhap it was simply a goodbye to an old friend too. One of the last she had left.

Among all others, there was one she would have cheated the most.

“Gwendolyn…” she squeaked out. Even to say her name broke her heart. Still, at least she knew this was a possibility. She had never lied to her lover and maybe with her ministrations and help with prepared medication they could eke out a meager existence. At least a few more weeks, maybe moons, away in peace-- away from anything and everything. From everyone.

All the while she’d devolve into a monster. An abomination reminiscent of void and seething with corrupt power from the abyss retaining the knowledge of Mhach. In private, mayhap, she could descend into madness with some measure of dignity. At least, she knew when the time came that Wendy would end it. She wouldn’t let her linger long enough to cause misery to those around her. She wouldn’t allow her to wallow in anguish long enough to hate her continued existence. Still, it was too much to ask of someone she loved and still further, too much for one to bear. 

But she had no one else to ask for such a sacrifice. Were she a better woman, she never would have asked this of her-- but her avarice would win out as it always did. She always had to have her way to the end, after all.

At least in her arms there would be a sweet end no matter the pain. No matter how bitter the tears tasted to the end.

[stinkythehutt]

an AU idea that i’ve been thinking about lately but i’m not sure i’d ever write is: sidious tries to clone a better version of anakin (without his knowledge) from DNA and matter taken from his severed limbs post-mustafar battle. but, with the sustained damage to the limbs and without the help or technology of kamino, none of it takes very well. only one of the clones actually survives and when tested at around age 3-4 it comes out that he isn’t force sensitive. and, also, he’s inherited a lot of anakin’s more disagreeable traits to the extreme, due to genetic changes and the impact of being raised as an almost-not-quite-dark-lord-of-the-sith from birth.

sidious, in a moment of sidious-like dark humor (and rage at the boy for not being what he wanted), arranges for the boy to be sent to tatooine to live under the ‘care’ of the hutts. this goes as you’d expect until, 7 or so years later, this 10-11 y/o furious, messed-up, came-back-wrong-but-somehow-even-worse, unaware he’s a clone of anakin, kid runs into… obi-wan kenobi, hot off the press of the events of the OWK series.

and obi-wan is like, no. nope. i’m not raising this kid. i don’t know how this happened or what the fuck the galaxy has against me now but no. i’ll figure out a way to free him and i’ll send him to live with the lars but i won’t raise him. so he gets anakin2 freed and they have the galaxy’s most hideous road trip out to the lars’ and they get on terribly and this kid is traumatisingly so like all of the worst parts of anakin with none of the redeeming features. he breaks obi-wan’s landspeeder trying to enhance it and he’s disagreeable and irritable and ungrateful and ungenerous and he isn’t even force sensitive or the chosen one. so obi-wan is straight up just putting up with him out of love for his old friend, who is now literally evil and just recently tried to kill him (again).

only obviously over the few days of their journey they warm to each other just a little. and obi-wan goes to leave 2anakin2skywalker with the lars’ and the kid is furious and hurt and they’re trying to comfort him all wrong and obi-wan is like “wait no he hates when you-“ and realises, fuck. i have to look after this kid. i want to look after this kid. there is nothing actually tying me here and no benefit beyond i kind of care about the little shit now. and i want him to be safe and happy in the same way i wanted anakin to be and i don’t know if i’m good enough to give him that but i have to try. because he needs me.

that, like, exploration of ‘what does this relationship boil down to?’ after all the situational ties are stripped away, all the promises and prophecies and shared histories and goals are gone and instead of in TPM where these two people are bound together by fate, now they are simply bound together by chance and choice and care and love. and how does obi-wan choose to navigate that differently. and how do they both grow and process their own histories. obviously spoiler alert they figure it out and the kid grows up tumultuously happy in the end as a sort of bounty-hunter-rebel type figure and he lives somewhat well on tatooine inciting slave rebellions and getting himself into various troubles and adventures. and he’s never force sensitive and he never joins the official rebellion or learns what happened to old ben who raised him til luke happens to run into him and tell him much later. and there’s no big “wow i’m anakin skywalker! i’m secretly magical and amazing!” moment or anything. he’s just a dude who lives a decent somewhat crazy life out in the sand and fondly recalls the father figure who looked after him when no one else would. the end

[reds-skull]

please infodump about the cyberknights au🥺

Well if not one but TWO people give me permission I guess I have to haha

(Seriously tho thank you so much T_T)

All of this can be changed by the time I get to start writing it, so fair warning lol

So last time I really talked about cyberknights I mentioned their world is basically a theoretical future where operation Deadbolt failed (deadbolt being the op to contain the aether/zombie outbreak to Urzikstan in MWZ), around 70 years after the initial outbreak.

Cyberknights is a temporary name for the Knighthood, the organization that is in charge of keeping the aether as far away from the remaining human cities as they can.

I think it will be an international organization, made possible by the aether tears and teleporters (can't remember the official name rn).

What I was thinking about more recently is, that maybe the Knighthood are a separate entity from the state they're from. That is why they can work internationally despite some countries having political tensions between each other.

I was replaying Dishonored (my favorite game <333) and really paying attention to the interactions between the Overseers and the City Watch.

[brief explanation on those if you've never played Dishonored: There are two main peacekeepers in the city of Dunwall, where the game takes place, the City Watch, who are basically policemen following rules made by the parliament, and the Overseers, who are religious officers that follow the Abbey of the Everyman and the high overseer (comparable to the pope in our world I suppose). These two groups have tensions between them in-game, but they're often working together.]

Inspired by the Overseers, I wanted to have the Knighthood be more religious, making the aether a sort of religion by itself. To combine science and the supernatural. Maybe the aether is seen as a curse, and those who often come into contact with it are seen as tainted. The knights do a work no one else wants to do, they sacrifice their own good for the sake of the rest of the population.

The knights are more religious than the general population, prayers and rituals part of their every day life. Their religion isn't just followed by them, but by many outside the Knighthood, but none are as devoted as them.

I think knights would begin training very early in life. If a child has a strong constitution, their parents can consider sending them to the Knighthood. They're likely to never see the child again, so they receive goods from the state for their sacrifice.

The child will be trained in combat, taught how to cleanse aether contamination and use aether tears, and basic mechanic knowledge to work with the technology they're given. After they're deemed ready, they will go on their first mission along with a team, and if they survive they will officially be knighted.

In this structure, the knights won't have much contact with the outside world, and form tightly-knit groups.

The exception to this is Soap, who originally was raised in what used to be Scotland (don't have a name for it yet...), but was moved to the British order after his injury. His accent and mannerisms differ noticeably from the rest of the knights.

Sidenote on the tech they use, I think it will be quite similar to what their equivalent of a military has, except the knights purposely model their armor to be in the image of the original knights. The cyberknights admire the original knights, and in their eyes they continue their legacy of fighting monsters. As they fought dragons, they fight aether worms.

The military sends tech for the knights if they find it will be useful for them, as everyone relays on the knights to hold back the aether. A lot of people question the continued need for the Knighthoods, asking why so many resources need to be wasted on them, but those who know what they do understand that without them, humanity will collapse again.

The newest invention of the military was G.H.O.S.T, a fully functioning robot to aid the knights. G.H.O.S.T is experimental at the start of the story, the first of its kind in any combat situation. Many knights distrust G.H.O.S.T's presence, but the 141 squad learns he's not quite like a real soldier.

Part of why the Knighthood doesn't quite like G.H.O.S.T is because his body works with aether. G.H.O.S.T is able to use field upgrades just like a knight, and his weapons are infused with the same process their's do. Those processes are considered blasphemy for anyone whose not a knight, but the Knighthood assures them G.H.O.S.T's creation wasn't.

I want to design banners for each Knighthood and incorporate them to the outfits for each member respectively. Like imagine having Soap marked by his original Scottish Knighthood, while Gaz and Price have a British banner, with G.H.O.S.T having none since he was never technically knighted. I think that would be really cool.

For the story, I think there will be a lot of knights we will see in temporary collaborations, since the knights aren't limited by physical distance or country of origin. So I'd like to design knight armor for Rudy and Alejandro, and Farah and Alex. Also considering adding Roach for the first time since I will need a lot of characters.

Besides knights, there are also mechanics and aether experts in their base of operation (don't have a name for it yet either), trainers for the children that weren't knighted yet, and of course the amount of people that takes to maintain such large amount of people, like cooks, cleaners, etc. and I want some of those to be characters from canon because it's more fun than inventing people I guess.

As to what the knights do when they go out to the contaminated lands, a lot of their work consists of destroying aether nests, collecting crystals to replenish their supplies, fighting disciples that attract zombies towards human cities. Very rarely, they would fight monsters like an aether worm, if they find it poses a risk.

The knights are always working against the clock, trying to outrun the never-ending storms that ravage through those lands. Getting stuck in a storm often means death for them, as it depletes their aether supply faster than they can replenish it. Aether is fuel for a knight's suit, which powers their weapons and motorcycles (which look like horses and can actually respond to voice commands), but it also makes sure their filtration masks work. Every inch of a knight is covered for a reason - the air in the contaminated lands is toxic for humans.

If knights enter storms, their stay only lasts mere minutes, but if they stay far enough they could last days before returning to the Knighthood's base. Over the years, knights have built shelters in places they frequent, and it is tradition to leave one thing behind if a knight comes across one and uses it. Those shelters have food and water, as well as charging stations.

Knights almost never go out alone, usually having a team of 2–3 people, depending on their task. Like I've explained before, a full team of knights consists of a combat expert, a mechanic expert and an aether expert. A combat expert is always needed, but the mechanic and aether can switch out if the job doesn't require them.

The 141 has four members, with two being combat experts, so they can often split into two teams, and that's why Soap and G.H.O.S.T end up alone in the start of the story.

Out of the three jobs, a mechanic is the least likely to expect combat, and is the least useful. They're still very important, you wouldn't want to be stuck in the contaminated lands with a broken helmet or bike, but aether-mechanic lifeforms are weaker than native aether forms.

[non-native aether lifeforms include regular zombies and mechanic-aether lifeforms, while native aether lifeforms include disciples and aether worms.]

It's for that reason Soap was demoted from combat expert to mechanic after his injury. Initially, he was to be removed from entering the contaminated lands altogether, but after practically begging, he was allowed back. He hates leaving the combat role behind, but because he's got a few loose screws he still acts like he is.

Field upgrades (I'll probably change their name to something cooler in the future tbh) allow knights to use aether to their advantage. They range from healing to hiding the user from the eyes of aether lifeforms, and use up a lot of aether so they're best used in combat only. While in combat, aether is collected from the blood that comes into contact with the various blades of the knights, and because regular zombies are easy to kill it's a good source of energy.

Soap's field upgrade, Frenzied Guard, is usually reserved for combat experts only. It makes it so the user builds up a sort of coating that protects them the more they slay, but at the cost of having every aether lifeform aggravated and focused on them. Field Upgrades can be changed with the right ritual, but Soap refused to do so.

Frenzied Guard actually helps Soap's leg injury not affect him while he's using the upgrade, but at the cost of making him collapse right after it runs out. He doesn't use it often as a result, and is actively discouraged to by his team.

I still need to work out what happened 70 years prior to the start of the story, exactly how much civilization collapsed because of the aether, as well as how are countries now operating, what even their names are... How people react to the Knighthoods. There are a lot of interesting ways I could make the dynamics of the knights and the military go, currently I'm leaning into mutual distrust...

And of course there's G.H.O.S.T's mystery... which I won't reveal here but oh boy if there's not a lot I could do with it...

I feel like this AU burrowed in my brain more than even rev AU because its world isn't ours, so I can world build so much more. I'll admit working within canon restrictions is interesting, leads me to decide things I wouldn't usually think to do if I was left to my own devices, but cyberknights AU is far more of my bread and butter. Before getting struck by COD brainrot I would only work of things that are related to either fantasy or sci-fi (which includes superheroes and supernatural entities in my eyes), things that rely heavily on worldbuilding as they often don't take place in our reality. Overthinking everything is part of the job in those genres haha. So I'm very much enjoying myself thinking about all of this, as you probably can tell by the length of this post...

I also still need to continue my research into Scottish mythology and knight orders from medieval Britain and Scotland (the Scots didn't really have the same vibes as British knights but it's still interesting to look into). I'm currently reading a translation of one of the stories allegedly written by that medieval John M'Tavish and it takes far longer than a modern story would because they use high level words that I never heard of, and English isn't my first language by far so I need to sit with a dictionary and reread the same sentence three times sometimes to understand it lol... but this was the case with the Exeter book as well and I read like 20 poems and riddles from that book for BLOOD||HUNGER so it's not like that's new.

How do I tell people I got into medieval poetry because of a fucking COD fic.....

[aussiellama]

Part six

Ant for the past two hours had been sat pretty comfortably behind Cash, between the door and Missy though he was getting a bit restless now and hoped they'd stop eventually.

He had been unsure at first about going in the second car. Sue him, he wanted to be with his best friend, but he felt perfectly fine with the others. Anyways it was nice to spend time with them now that they were all one big group.

Darren and Cash were have conversation, something about a man named Roger who he was pretty sure Cash's Nan's boyfriend and Darude.

Missy and Amerie were watching TikToks together, every so often Missy would show him one as well but he was ok without seeing any. Everyone couple of years his parents would make the risk off a road trip down to his dad's side of the family (though in recent years he had stayed home) and his parents were against technology on a road trip meaning he had learnt to rely on daydreaming and counting cars.

His thoughts kept going back to the other car, he couldn't help but wonder what it was like. Had Spider murdered any of them yet, had they murdered Spider.

It seemed as though his prayers had been answered because Cash was now pulling over, so was Spider and everyone was getting out.

"Oh thank God" Amerie said practically jumping out the car, she was not one for sitting down this long, Missy and Ant both had similar thoughts and also got out quickly.

The two groups made their way over to each other.

Darren headed over to Quinni "Oh good you've survived" They said, they did not envy the group she was "How much bullshit did Spider put you through?"

"None" Quinni said instantly "He's actually been really good, trying to keep the peace and everything"

As much as Darren wanted to make a snarky comment they decided against it, for one it was way to early still and two it was obvious Quinni saw something good in him and they didn't ruin that.

Missy went over to Sasha first, they may not have agreed on certain things but she was still her best friend "Hey Sash"

Sasha looked suprised she had figured Missy would head straight over to Spider who was currently over with Ant she hadn't thought Missy would come to her and it felt good she did

"Hey Miss, suprised you're not running laps' she commented knowing full well how sporty she was, there was no way she was coping sitting in a car.

"Probably will later' she agreed "wanna come with?"

And Sasha nodded a small smile on her face

Now that the SLTS had stretched their legs they got back into their cars, they had decided on driving for another hour and a half until eight when they would then stop somewhere for breakfast and also swap drivers.

[pilebunkers]

Sorry for asking so many questions, but what do you think of the Rubicon III Research Institute, Professor Nagai, Walter's father (and mother), and Carla? Also, this might seem farfetched, but do you think Michigan might have had any involvement with the Institute or Overseer? Or do you think they just met him by coincidence when they went to Jupiter or something?

WORK OUT YOUR DADDY ISSUES THROUGH UNETHICAL MERCENARY CONTRACTS TODAY!

No need to apologise! I'm thrilled to have prompts to talk on.

Initially I was going to cover everything here, but then I fell down a three-hour rabbit hole of research for Michigan, so I'm afraid this post will only go into detail about Michigan in OVERSEER. But I'll touch on the other parts in brief, since each of those deserves at least one post of their own!

Firstly, Armored Core as a series is pretty good at specifying when someone is Designed/Irregular/Augmented/etc. so when only Iguazu's augs are mentioned in the Redguns, we can assume it's because he's the only Augmented Human in the Redguns.

That said, I like Michigan being a gen one. Because yes.

Augmentation was originally a trade secret of RRI because they had the Coral and the specialists. They would perform the surgery for corporations and corps would of course try to reverse engineer and create their own augments, with heavily limited success. Even RRI had heavily limited success. In that way I believe Michigan was an ambassador for Furlong (can you imagine Michigan being an ambassador for anything?) to RRI: he had a high AMS compatibility and a higher chance of surviving the surgery. Knowing Michigan and his not-so-secret protective fondness for his troops, he probably insisted he be the first person in Furlong to attempt augmentation. "And if it kills me, none of you maggots would have survived in the first place!"

I think at least for the first four generations RRI managed to maintain a monopoly on augmentation and controlled the registration and designation of Augmented Humans. They achieve this via the restriction of Cerebral Coral Control Devices: the C of the C#-###. Controller Generation 4, Number 621. When the Fires cut the main body of RRI off, there's a sudden need to rapidly "innovate on "solve" augmentation in the rest of the systems. This is also why we only see the numerically ascending C#-### designations for generation four and back. Gen five and six are the first without Coral, the first without RRI as a governing body, and the two gens (after gen one) noted to be especially gristly. The corps as a whole had to start over from scratch with Rubicon cut off.

We never actually get commentary on the conditions of RRI but as a rule, I think the development of augmentation was highly dehumanising and highly fatal. But, for as much as RRI, Walter's father, Nagai, and Carla should be considered monsters for the development of augmentation, the existence of OVERSEER and the Ibis series speaks to the fact that they had a strong sense of responsibility regarding it as well. They understood of Coral Release. They understood the dangers of unchecked Coral technology and, presumably, the dangers of Augmentation. (Or, they think they do, obviously this is worth dissecting. There's another strong argument for RRI fearing advancement and evolution it can't control, but not the advancement/evolution it can.) I see the protectiveness and secrecy they exhibited towards Augmentation and CCCDs as a natural extension of this. Now that CCDs (Cerebral Control Devices, sans Coral) are being developed by the whole wide world and receive designations based on the corp that produces them, it's no surprise the lack of regulation led to a sharp spike in stolen, "washed", spoofed, and otherwise counterfeit CCDs and CCD keys. (See: Iguazu's augmentation is secondhand.)

Mostly-neutral ALLMIND handles the registration of Augmented Humans now, since it handles the registration of mercenaries, and most Augmented Humans are mercenaries. But ALLMIND has a secondary agenda of Coral Release that at least OVERSEER disapproves of.

That said, I think Walter's father (Walter Sr. from hereon in because that's shorter, lmao) might have wanted to see Coral Release happen. Maybe he made Contact or something? I always kinda got the sense that Walter Sr. lost his mind a little bit. And I think any of the pre-Fires RRI researcher diaspora aware of Coral Release could have shacked up with ALLMIND or the corporations. Moreover, in a narrative sense, Walter is put in direct opposition to his father: If Walter wants Coral Release stopped, his father likely wanted it to happen.

I wish I had more thoughts on his mother. Considering Walter Sr "left his family behind" I think she wasn't involved in Coral research but was probably still an academic. I think Walter's whole family was descended from the first colonists on the Xylem, and were career academics all the way back to before they boarded that colony ship for its thirty year sublight journey. (See: the original settlers of Rubicon.) I like to think she was a biologist, maybe an evolutionary biologist with a specialisation in mutualistic relationships, working towards domesticating useful species on Rubicon. This fits in nicely with the theme of mutualism involved with Contact.

She also loved dogs.

Anyway! Michigan and OVERSEER.

I first came into this post thinking "Nah, Michigan doesn't have any of the usual hints associated with RRI and OVERSEER" in the floral naming that's typically used to justify theories around King and Chartreuse. But then I did some research, and you know what?

There is, in fact, a Rieger Begonia (Begonia × hiemalis) misspelled in several plant forums and websites as Liger Begonia. Knowing there are a couple translation oddities (OPEN FACE vs OPEN FAITH) in AC6, I went back to the Japanese name for his AC: ライガーテイル (raigaa teiru). Unfortunately, ライガー is the spelling for liger in Japanese whereas the name for the flower is リーガース (riigaasu). But that doesn't mean it can't be a stealth pun. Plus, his emblem's got a fleur-de-lis tail???

Between that, Walter's implicit history with Michigan (the availability of the Balam catalogue at game start, how Michigan seems comfortable renting out Walter's Hounds, even the cut tutorial mission apparently coming from Balam (though you shouldn't rely on cut content for canon)), and Walter being sent to RRI contacts on Jupiter where Michigan was coincidentally stationed, I've convinced myself OVERSEER Michigan is actually, like, pretty plausible?

Cool.

Perhaps coincidentally, during the Jupiter War, he would meet a young Furlong lieutenant in Intelligence that he'd come to rely on. That same lieutenant would resign his commission and becomes an independent mercenary handler after the war, dropping his Furlong callsign and adopting the use of his regular ass name: Walter.