#Reconnaissance Market

[amrutmnm]

Understanding the Airborne ISR Market: Growth Drivers and Emerging Trends

The Airborne Intelligence, Surveillance, and Reconnaissance ISR Market is gaining unprecedented importance across the defense sector, driven by global security demands and technological advancements. With a projected Airborne ISR Industry size growth from $12,700 million in 2023 to $15,600 million by 2027, Airborne ISR systems are playing a crucial role in gathering intelligence, enhancing situational awareness, and ensuring real-time responses to emerging threats. Here’s an in-depth look into how Airborne ISR works, the current market growth drivers, opportunities, Major Players, and key takeaways to understand this transformative technology better.

Understanding Airborne ISR Systems

Airborne ISR refers to airborne-based systems providing intelligence, surveillance, and reconnaissance capabilities, offering real-time data from varied terrains and battlefield situations. These systems support data collection through diverse platforms like UAVs (Unmanned Aerial Vehicles), military aircraft, and helicopters equipped with sensors and radars. ISR systems gather critical intelligence through digital, voice, and video data, analyzed by powerful processors onboard or transmitted to ground stations for interpretation.

The primary roles of airborne ISR systems include:

Monitoring enemy movement and military assets

Supporting reconnaissance missions

Enhancing situational awareness

Contributing to intelligence assessment

How Does Airborne ISR Work?

ISR systems are typically mounted on aircraft, UAVs, and helicopters to provide coverage over vast geographical areas. Here’s a breakdown of how ISR functions:

Data Collection: The system’s sensors gather data on various targets through radar, optical, and infrared imaging.

Data Processing: ISR systems process the collected information in real-time using advanced algorithms.

Data Analysis: Information is analyzed by AI-based software, enhancing pattern recognition and decision-making.

Information Dissemination: Data is transmitted securely to command centers or ground-based stations for actionable intelligence.

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Market Growth Drivers for Airborne ISR

Several critical factors are driving the growth of the airborne ISR market:

1. Increased Security Requirements

Rising political tensions, border security concerns, and regional instabilities propel the need for ISR technologies, as defense departments aim to fortify situational awareness.

2. Advancements in ISR Technology

Breakthroughs in AI, machine learning, and big data are enhancing ISR functionalities, with improved detection accuracy and faster decision-making capabilities.

3. Rising Demand for UAVs

Drones equipped with ISR systems are in high demand due to their effectiveness in hard-to-access regions. UAVs are expected to witness the highest growth in this sector, thanks to their agility and cost-efficiency.

4. Shift in Warfare Tactics

Modern warfare increasingly relies on ISR capabilities, with digital battlefields necessitating real-time intelligence, surveillance, and reconnaissance.

Opportunities in the Airborne ISR Market

1. Growing Investment in Small UAVs

Technological advancements have enabled the production of lightweight UAVs with high-resolution ISR capabilities. This is a massive opportunity for the market, especially in emerging economies.

2. Enhanced AI Integration

AI-powered ISR systems allow for more accurate and predictive intelligence, assisting in preemptive defense strategies. This trend continues to offer growth opportunities across defense and security sectors.

3. Demand from Homeland Security

ISR systems are increasingly adopted by homeland security agencies for tasks like border monitoring, wildlife tracking, and disaster response, expanding the market’s applications beyond traditional military uses.

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Key Players in the Airborne ISR Market

The airborne ISR market is highly competitive, with major players investing heavily in R&D to enhance ISR capabilities. Here’s an overview of some of the key players:

L3Harris Technologies, Inc.

Known for its strong ISR systems, L3Harris Technologies is a leader with a portfolio including the CORVUS, Viper Shield, and the IDECM F/A-18 Countermeasure System.

BAE Systems PLC

BAE Systems is a major player, providing electro-optical sensors, electronic warfare systems, and ISR solutions across the defense landscape.

Lockheed Martin Corporation

This company develops ISR systems with advanced radar and sensor technology, including solutions for electronic warfare and situational awareness.

Northrop Grumman Corporation

With products like the AN/APG-83 AESA radar, Northrop Grumman provides scalable ISR systems for diverse applications, including fighter aircraft.

Elbit Systems

Based in Israel, Elbit is renowned for its ISR systems and has expanded its market presence with international contracts, such as providing the Hermes 900 marine UAS to the Royal Thai Navy.

Recent Developments in Airborne ISR

Elbit Systems (2022): Secured a contract with the Royal Thai Navy to provide ISR systems and training.

Lockheed Martin Corporation (2022): Awarded a contract to develop advanced targeting systems for the F-35, enabling clear target resolutions in ISR missions.

Northrop Grumman (2021): Advanced its AESA radar system for the F-16 Viper, enhancing ISR capabilities for fighter aircraft.

Challenges in the Airborne ISR Market

1. High Costs and Maintenance Requirements

The development and integration costs of ISR systems, combined with their maintenance requirements, make these systems a high-investment venture for governments.

2. Complex Integration with Existing Systems

Many ISR systems face compatibility issues when integrated with legacy systems, which can impact their overall operational efficiency.

3. Regulatory Constraints

Strict regulations regarding technology transfer and ISR deployment restrict the market’s growth potential, especially across international borders.

Airborne ISR Market Growth Forecast (2023–2027)

The airborne ISR market is expected to expand significantly, with growth rates driven by increased investments in national security, advancements in sensor technology, and the evolving role of UAVs. North America and Asia-Pacific regions are anticipated to lead in market growth, with North America benefiting from increased defense budgets, while Asia-Pacific countries face regional security issues that heighten demand.

Key Takeaways

Significant Market Growth: The airborne ISR market is projected to grow from USD 12,700 million in 2023 to USD 15,600 million by 2027, driven by the demand for enhanced intelligence capabilities.

Technological Advancements: AI, big data, and small UAV advancements are shaping ISR systems, increasing their accuracy and utility.

Challenges: High costs, integration issues with legacy systems, and regulatory limitations present ongoing challenges.

Key Players: L3Harris Technologies, BAE Systems, Lockheed Martin, Northrop Grumman, and Elbit Systems lead the market with advanced ISR offerings.

Regional Growth: Asia-Pacific is projected to witness the highest CAGR, driven by the need for advanced defense capabilities amid regional tensions.

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Frequently Asked Questions (FAQs)

Q1: What is the current market size of Airborne ISR? The airborne ISR market was valued at $12,400 million in 2022 and is expected to reach $15,600 million by 2027.

Q2: Who are the major players in the Airborne ISR market? Leading companies include L3Harris Technologies, BAE Systems, Lockheed Martin, Northrop Grumman, and Elbit Systems.

Q3: What are the primary growth drivers in the Airborne ISR market? Key drivers include rising global security demands, advancements in sensor and AI technology, and the growing adoption of UAVs in defense applications.

Q4: What are the main challenges facing the Airborne ISR market? Challenges include high development costs, integration difficulties with existing systems, and regulatory restrictions on technology transfer.

Q5: How do Airborne ISR systems work? These systems use sensors to collect data, analyze it in real-time, and transmit actionable intelligence to command centers or ground stations for mission planning and response.

The Airborne ISR market is poised for growth, driven by the defense sector's increasing reliance on intelligence-gathering systems for enhanced national security. With technological advancements, the ISR ecosystem is becoming more versatile, efficient, and accessible across various platforms. Though the industry faces challenges, innovations in sensor technologies, AI integration, and small UAVs are expected to propel the market forward in the coming years.

By understanding market dynamics and staying informed of technological advancements, stakeholders can leverage opportunities in this rapidly evolving domain to enhance their competitive edge and contribute to global security.

[johngold123]

https://jibonbook.com/read-blog/16806

Light Attack & Reconnaissance Aircraft Market Analysis & Growth Forecast to 2030

[infofeasting]

The maritime reconnaissance and surveillance technology is a feedback system which consists of deployment of surveillance assets. The rise in international trade through sea along with the increased security concerns propels the growth of the market.

[yandere-toons]

Yandere: I wasn't STALKING you. I was just educating myself on your lore. Calm down.

Okay, but imagine Hunter (TOH) sputtering out an excuse like this when you catch him spying on you. He trains himself to identify your voice over the din and leaps from his hiding place behind the gaudiest kiosk in the Night Market.

Depending on whether this is pre-Hollow Mind, Hunter might throw up a rambling explanation for how Emperor Belos assigned him to a reconnaissance mission.

"You're a person of interest." He keeps his golden mask securely fastened to his face, hoping that its show-nothing design will render you oblivious to the profuse sweat now dripping down his uniform.

A pang of fear stabs Hunter in the gut as he hears his own words and struggles to rip the wobble out of his voice. "To Emperor Belos, I mean!" The slight crack and fluctuation of intonation, embedded deeper in his memory than anywhere else, fills him with a cold awareness of the smallest things.

Hunter stops his arm before it satisfies an itch under the hem of his glove. The leather, once a gleaming sign of prestige, now traps his wrist and palm in a clammy prison.

He looks away, as if anyone else in this world could seize his attention more, and reaches out to wave his hand up and down a few times. "So, resume your daily activities, citizen." Hunter leans against the side of the kiosk, props one heel over the other, and crosses his arms in an attempt to appear suave.

"I'll ... I'll be here."

As you scout another stall for cheap contraband, Hunter lays his full weight on the kiosk and accidentally pushes it into a steep bend in the road. He saves himself with a stumble and looks from you to the fleeing kiosk, then sprints after it, cloak flaring, yelling at the kiosk to "give me a break!"

Wheels snap and pots shatter in a crash that summons from the night an immediate uproar.

[mistydeyes]

the deadly kiss of a woman

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summary: When the 141 isn't planting bombs and executing assaults, they're usually tailing a target or performing their own reconnaissance. What happens when you enter the picture and are sent to do your own recon on them?

pairing: Task Force 141 x undercover!fem!Reader

warnings: depiction of violence/weapons and drugs, swearing, wound depiction, reader being a bad bad girl (except in gaz's case lmao)

a/n: bro i love me a good spy storyline

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price - assassin

Finding Captain Price wasn't an easy feat. You were contracted by the traitorous General Shepherd and he was making sure you worked for your payment. You followed Price mission to mission but he was always one step ahead of you or surrounded by his teammates. You had exhausted all of your international passports and disguises until an opportunity presented itself. From a covertly placed comm, you heard that Price was planning on a retreat to his cabin while on leave. You sped your black vehicle away and raced to the airport. You smiled as you booked the next flight to Fort Augustus.

When you arrived, you booked an Airbnb under an assumed name and just happen to be sitting on the porch when your "neighbor" arrived. "Good morning," you waved as you put on your best fake American accent. He waved back as he casually sipped his morning brew. "Far from home are we?" he asked as he walked closer to the edge of his porch to talk to you. "Guess you Brits can spot an American from miles away," you joked, "The name's Virginia, I thought it was time to take a break from trips to Maine and try going abroad instead." "I'm John and, well, you picked a great place," he smiled at you and you returned the friendly gesture. "Maybe we could chat about some trails over dinner?" you asked and he looked at you surprised. "I just bought too many ribeyes for one person to enjoy," you said sheepishly and he nodded in response. "How about you bring them over and I can grill some up for dinner?" he offered and you agreed on a time for that evening. As you entered your cabin, you knew you would walking away with millions at the end of the night.

When evening finally arrived, you changed into jeans and a flannel shirt. The outfit functioned in multiple ways as the bulkiness of the flannel allowed you to hide your two weapons for the night: monkshood powder to sedate Price and a scopolamine patch to kill him with a seizure quickly. You smiled as you remembered their street names, wolfsbane and Devil's Breath. You grabbed the thawed pieces of meat and adjusted your brunette wig before heading over to his home. When you knocked on the door, he greeted you warmly and invited you inside. The house was warm and he quickly took the ribeyes out of your hand to prep on the grill. "Your place is amazing," you said as you took off your boots. "A slice of paradise," he said as he offered you some scotch. "I also made a tayberry pie for dessert, heard it's a Northeast specialty," he said before walking to the kitchen, "you're lucky they had some at the market." "Sounds great, let me know if there's anything I can do to help," you called out. You walked around the room, checking for any bugs or weapons that he could use to his advantage. Shepherd had informed you that Price was not an old man to underestimate and you took the threat seriously.

"Here you go," he said behind you and you turned with a smile as he held out two glasses. You reached out to grab one but "accidentally" tripped and caused the glasses onto his chest. "I am so sorry!" you said, "I'll pour us another if you want to change." He nodded in response and reassured you that it was alright. As he left to change his shirt, you poured two new glasses and covertly mixed the powder in. He returned quickly and you went to go present him his glass. "I'll drink in a minute, have to check and make sure those cuts haven't burned yet, love," he said before brushing past you. You patiently waited as you knew your opportunity would come soon.

After a few moments, Price returned with two perfectly charred steaks. "Mind just getting some plates for us?" he asked and directed you over to the cabinet. You put your drink down on the table and retrieved the items. Finally, you sat across from Price and sipped your drinks over the delicious meal. You made polite conversation about the variety of trails and enjoyed his cooking.

As the night continued, you felt faint but blamed it on the strong liquor. However, as your eyes began to close and your ears rang, Price quickly got up and moved you to the couch. "When you wake up you're going to explain everything," he cruelly whispered as you fell out of consciousness. "A good assassin would know that tayberries are only from California but I guess you didn't do your research," was the last thing you heard before you passed out on the leather couch.

soap - weapons dealer

Becoming friends with Johnny wasn't part of the plan. You just happened to hit it off at a bar in Scotland when you were executing a deal. You decided to keep him around despite the danger of him exposing you. You lived by the saying "Keep your friends close but your enemies closer” and while you were fond of the Scotsman, you weren’t blind to the fact he was a Sergeant who could implicate your entire business. You kept up a front as an influencer who got paid to travel to lavish destinations and enjoyed the finer things in life. He didn’t question you when you told him you were off to Amsterdam. “Enjoy the sights, lass,” he cheered to you and you made plans to hang out whenever you both returned. Little did you both know, you would be seeing each other much sooner than you expected.

As you sat in a dimly cocktail bar, you sipped delicately on a thousand-dollar rum. Your blackened lipstick stained the edge of the glass as you ordered another. You checked your watch and saw that your client was running behind. You didn’t interfere or ask what they needed the firearms for, you could’ve cared less. But this client was clearly a cartel member based on their Western Hemisphere accent and their offerings for some premium cocaine. “He’s late,” you said, annoyed, to your bodyguard, “I’m giving him five more minutes until the deal is off.” Suddenly, the doors of the cocktail bar opened and you could see three figures illuminated by the street light enter. “Here he finally is,” you exasperatingly said as you threw your hands up in relief. But you would soon swallow your words as a familiar face emerged into the red light.

Your bodyguard moved for his gun as this was not the client you were expecting. “Hold it right there and don’t move, sweetheart,” one of the men commanded as they approached. “Who are you?” you asked coldly as their presumed Captain took the head seat. “People who are very interested as to why you’re transporting guns for the cartel,” he said and lit up a cigar, using your rum glass as an ashtray. “And what makes you think I sell anything of that nature?” you countered as you caught Johnny’s eyes and he stared intently. “Well first because lying to a Sergeant is a federal offense,” Johnny answered with venom in his tone. “Looks like you’ve already been acquainted,” the other man answered and he looked to be the youngest out of the group. “Plus we tracked your client and he brought you to us,” the Captain said as he took another long draw out of his cigar. Every time he dumped ashes you gripped the tablecloth harder.

"What if I don't cooperate?" you asked as you tried to regain power in this situation. "Oh Michelle," Johnny said as he approached you and placed a dominating hand on the table, "or should I say Genevieve Aguillard." You swallowed harshly as he raised his other hand to brush a loose strand of hair. "I think you'll find a way to tell us, Bonnie," he complimented as you shuttered at his tone. Your smile faltered as you turned your attention back to the Captain. "Mactavish, take the Red Widow to another room, and don't come back until we have what we need," he said as you felt Johnny grip your arm and lead you for some light interrogation.

gaz - secret agent

Following General Shepherd's betrayal, the CIA placed you undercover to be their eyes and ears inside the 141. You were experienced with these types of operations and readily accepted the position. Intercepting the team was easy as Laswell had made sure to secure you a position as the task force's newest foreign operations specialist and linguist. The CIA helped to fabricate a dossier that developed your history as one of the youngest members to pass SAS selection and one that quickly climbed the military ladder. Now in, you impressed the men with your mastery of foreign military weapons and vehicles along with your deadly hand-to-hand combat.

After a few months of chasing Makarov, you were trusted to go on missions without supervision or instruction from the entire team. You primarily would go with Price and Gaz so your budding friendship with Gaz was no surprise. You were given the alias of Evelyn Hanssen, a name that combined a fictional special agent and a real one. Gaz affectionately called you Eve and would always be the first one to volunteer to go on patrol with you. One night you got in a pissing contest as you fabricated a lie regarding your times during the Special Air Service selection. "And I thought I had the best times, Eve," Kyle joked as you finished up another spring training. "You wish, Garrick," you replied before heading off to the showers.

However, your position would soon become compromised following a near-death experience with Gaz. You, Price, and Gaz were on the frozen cliffs of Kazakhstan to retrieve stolen American intel. While Price provided overwatch, you and Gaz were tasked with infiltrating the base and securing the American Attack Characterization System. That was the plan but after you had become captured following the data transfer, you had to shoot your way out and steal a Russian aircraft. You were lucky to be alive on the ride home but a bullet wound to your shoulder and Gaz's broken arm landed you in an office with Laswell, Price, and the CIA Director.

"What the fuck were you thinking Agent L/N?" Laswell yelled at you as you sat with Gaz in the large meeting room. "I did my job, Ma'am," you said through gritted teeth. Her tone was harsh, like a mother yelling at her child. It had been a grueling 2 hours of going over everything that had gone wrong during the mission. Gaz had said his peace and now it was your turn on the chopping block. "You blew up a secret Russian military base, where was that in the brief?" the Director added. He then directed his anger to Price, "I thought you said your men could handle this, John." Price's eyes narrowed at you before he responded. Following the fiasco, the team had been briefed on your "secret assignment" and it was clear that hostilities were present in your role with the team. "My men could have handled it but she's not one of mine, General," he said venomously and the tension between him and his American counterparts was evident. "You're done Agent, I expect you on the first flight home to Langley tomorrow," the Director said and dismissed you and Gaz.

As you exited, you tried to grab Gaz's shoulder as he walked away. He looked at you with a new form of hatred in his eyes. "Don't touch me," he said coldly as your grip on his shoulder loosened. "You come in here to babysit us and you can't even do your job correctly," he continued as you looked at him, trying to find something to say. "I'm sick of you messing up our operations, you're a flight risk that needs to run home to the States," he ended and walked away, leaving you to pack your bags and head home.

ghost - spy

Ghost knew he was being followed. As a grey man himself, he knew what to look out for when tailing a target. There were two options to execute surveillance, the first way is to make sure your targets never notice you and the second way is to make sure they only notice you. The young woman who had been mingling through the busy London streets was definitely following the former. Simon noticed you three blocks away when you emerged from a bookstore and had been casually keeping pace with him since.

He didn't know what she wanted but decided to execute his own countermeasures. He pulled off into a small trinkets shop and pretended to look amongst the aisles of vintage teapots. When he heard the signature click of the front door, he knew he had you cornered. You rounded the aisles and eventually pretended to pick up a plate and inspect its engravings. "You've been following me," Ghost said as he too was looking at a teapot. You swallowed and turned to face your target. "So tell me when are you going to ask for my number?" he said and you could see the corners of his eyes rise in a smile. You were suspicious as spies were often taught not to rely on coincidences but you played along. "Is it that obvious?" you flirted, "I'm sorry for being such a weirdo, I have seen you around town and needless to say, you've gotten my attention."

You moved closer to him and seductively bit down on your lip, staining your rouge lipstick. Ghost moved his hand to your face and wiped the stain from your lower lip. "What's your name, doll?" he asked as he stared at you intently. "Belle," you replied with your undercover name prepared, "what's yours handsome?" "Simon" he breathily replied and you knew you had the right person. As Ghost exited the shop with your phone number in hand, he knew he would keep you around until he found out who you were sent by. He was ready to dance this dangerous tango with you.

After weeks of sleeping and getting closer to Simon, you were prepared to give updates to your handler. It was easy to entice him into midnight meetings in darkened hotel rooms. You could have easily taken him out but your client had other plans for him. You exited your faux flat in a grey suit and jacket and made your way to the rendezvous point. Your heels clicked on the street as you perfectly blended in with office workers heading home or on errands after the long work day and entered a cocktail bar. "Just a table for two, in the back please," you asked the young hostess. "My date and I would like our privacy," you winked and they led you to a cocktail table at the back of the restaurant. You sat in the corner, facing the door, as you pulled out a compact to run your fingers through your blonde wig and adjust your brown lipstick. Your handler was to meet you in five minutes but it never hurt to be early.

As you examined yourself in the mirror, someone exited the bathroom and sat across from you. You closed it and tried to suppress your surprise when you saw Simon sitting in front of you. "Apologies sir, I think you have the wrong table," you lied as you donned a convincing French accent. "No I think I'm at the right one, Belle," he said as you knew he had set you up. You heard the click of a gun underneath the table and felt the cold metal brush against your knees and position your stomach. "But we both know, Belle isn't your real name," he said as he stared at you intently with those brown eyes that had looked down at you ever since you met. "Have to say Belle is a nice alias, the same one a Civil War spy had," he said and let out a sickly sweet laugh. As you shakily sipped your water, you prepared to either be shot or hear his demands. "Now you're going to tell me who sent you or you'll have some lead to accessorize with," he whispered before signaling the waiter for two glasses of Bourbon. This was going to be one hell of a dinner date.

[rockyteriyaki]

TEAM BUILDING ACTIVITIES 👯

s/o to @powerful-owl for starting this meme and @disarmd for the insanely funny contribution, it’s such a delightful thought exercise! here’s my attempt:

MASCOTS!

american sports have hella mascots, so every team is tasked to create a marketable mascot that could represent them for u.s fans. they also have to build a little model to pitch the concept. there’s the williams whale sharks. the aston martin martinis. lando and oscar devise a walking papaya named penny who looks so much like a vulva oscar backs out almost instantly.

GUESS THE GRID based on clothing choices: drivers assemble an outfit they’d wear and then everyone else tries to guess who picked what. the catch is that the f1a girls did the same challenge and their answers are mixed in as well. everybody thinks doriane’s mercedes-themed picks are george’s and maya gets confused for charles even though there’s no ferrari branding to be seen. chloe’s picked a haas cap with a black skirt and we watch nico hulkenberg go through every emotion known to man trying to figure out why kevin would—???

(meanwhile the academy grid is absolutely ripping everybody’s style choices to shreds, accusing hamda of being the most basic bitch on the planet bc max chose to wear basketball shorts, etc)

PADDOCK SCAVENGER HUNT

5 teams are in on it and the other 5 can’t know what’s going on, otherwise they lose points. charles pretends that he’s too tired to walk when pierre catches him searching the top of a cabinet on carlos’ shoulders. oscar distracts williams while lando tries to get a picture of logan with red, white and blue objects in the background. yuki gets stranded on top of the rbr motorhome because daniel won’t stop using him for reconnaissance and the whole thing gets called off because max sees them squabbling on the roof and thinks the rapture has arrived.

GEORGE AND ALEX MAKE GRAPHICS

ib george’s natural talent for graphic design. the audience gets to see what a communications team actually does in motorsport (educational!) and george and alex get free reign of the entire library of press photos of eachother. george is hunting for a terrible picture of alex to edit onto a podium but ends up having a very verbal crisis about how none of the pap shots are appropriately bad and then spends the next half an hour digging himself into theeee deepest hole talking about how it’s just not as FUNNY if alex looks TOO GOOD on the podium! it would be UNFAIR! alex is squirming and trying to remember where tf he was planning on going with this zoomed-in great-gatsby-esque picture of george’s eyelids on his screen right now. george silently edits alex’s teeth out of his mouth and tries to erase the fact that he just called alex handsome like 47 times.

MARIO KART SIM RACING

im talking full immersion. sherbet land is ice fucking cold. every time they drive over some kind of giant clock or railroad or something the sim porpoises like a jackhammer. someone is standing behind them with a full tank of water for the splash sections. there’s a legitimate epilepsy warning at the start of the video. bowser puts the fear of god into lando norris.

MAX AND DANIEL DO TEMPORARY TATTOOS

i’m hesitant to allow them access to a bowl of water but i have an extremely clear vision of daniel slapping tats all over the blank spaces on his skin to the point where they overlap and he’s just got shiny plasticky tattoo skin everywhere. max would find this unappealing and also stupid until he realizes all the fake tattoos on his side of the table are replicas of daniel’s actual ones. cut to: daniel with a snake tattoo stuck in his eyebrow hairs hiking his shorts up so max can mirror the placement on his own inner thigh. daniel resembling a concussed post malone, watching max’s careful application of the ‘3’ tattoo. max does a horrible aussie accent and daniel looks like a chimpanzee seeing its own reflection for the first time. cinema.

[glossykissies]

🌟Headcanons for readers if they were supes.🌟

Deer reader would have powers of suggestion through eye contact , mind control type stuff very cutesy and demure. + healing(like she could heal ppl and also herself or maybe just herself up to u) . This power would tire her out and she’d have wobbly spells like you’ve said before! with pope catching her omg that was cute. Very useful to the boys to have the girl with the enchanting eyes (literally) do reconnaissance for them. Had to work her up to it tho cuz she’s shy

Puppy reader would be invulnerable and super speed maybe? Both or one of them. I feel like it’s just so her with how active and adventurous she is. Much slower than A train but still VERY fast unfortunately she hasn’t got the hang of it yet so ends up burning her shoes and getting her socks on fire when stopping. Why the invulnerability comes in handy!

Kitty reader would be able to turn invisible very cunty very her. also teleportation into shadows cuz again how chic and black cat coded. But her clothes can’t turn invisible like the girl from fantastic 4 , actually most invisibility powers would like that. She’d be very useful on the boys missions and it could open up to situations between soldier boy , butcher , MM 🤭 reminder for myself to look up fics abt MM.

Bunny reader rlly stumped me omg but the best I could come up with is ability to control fire or liquify or soldify matter idk i think I need u and the council to weigh in with thoughts cuz I’m so lost ☹️ maybe the reason she was on the team u said earlier

you’re a genius i love thisssss !!!

deer having wobbly spells even in this universe yes !! the boys get so used to it that everytime she uses her power one of them are already behind her ready to catch her if need be <3 she’s the biggest sweetheart n theyd die for her !!!!

pup having super speed and accidentally setting her socks on fire whenever she runs on carpet without shoes !!! i love that idea sooo much, having that as a background scene and seeing m.m or frenchie chasing her around trying to put her out would be so funny !!

kitty is def an invisible girlie <3 if anyone ever yells at her and she’s not in the mood to yell back because she’s feeling sensitive she goes invisible so no one can see her cry :( i can also see her shape shifting into a cat form … she uses it to throw ppl off me thinks … kinda like a whole puss in boots vibe when she wanders up to whoever they’re tryna take down and gives them the 🥺 eyes and when they lean down to stroke her she attacks, clawing their eyes out !

hmm bun is difficult cos i can’t rlly see her being a supe originally !! much like the spoilt brat reader i see her being useful to them as she’s on the inside, a socialite, knows all the right people and has the key codes to any building from flirting with the right people … just all around useful ….. but if she’s gonna be a supe — she’s gonna be voughts favourite cash cow. a supe popstar, marketed towards teen - 20s girls, super cute aesthetic like sabrina carpenter. her power would be kinda like deers, she can compel people (think tvd style compelling) so they send her to conventions for self help where all she needs to do is bat her eyelashes, look someone in the eye and say “you will never smoke again” to heal them. homelander refers to her as ‘his little moneymaker’, but of course she gets tired of the constant sexualisation from the men in the seven >:( maybe she finally breaks….. going to her new friends for help…….

[ninibeingdelulu]

Happiness ✧

Plot: Discovering Marley with a joyful eagerness, Eren can’t take his eyes off you.

The breathtaking expanse of this new frontier sprawled out in every direction as far as your awestruck eyes could perceive - a sight none of you conscripted scouts ever fathomed witnessing beyond those towering walls hemming your entire reality since birth.

Even as the rest of Levi's elite squad trekked grimly onward adhering to their regimented protocols during this unprecedented reconnaissance mission into the enigmatic lands of Marley; your footsteps gradually slowed to a meandering pace.

Every minuscule sensory detail flooding your awakened awareness with childlike wonderment unlike anything you'd known before now.

The vibrant colors alone radiating across those quaint thatched rooftops, cobblestone lanes and bustling market stalls erupted into a kaleidoscopic mosaic igniting your nerves with rapturous delight.

Such trivial sights taken for granted by the locals yet perceived like divine manifestations defying all previous boundaries constraining your world solely within those dreary monochrome walls.

You pivoted aimlessly soaking in each new marvel presenting itself with infectious glee sparkling through your captivated irises even brighter than the sun's gilded rays dancing across the rustic scenery.

From the sweet fragrant bouquets wafting through the brisk autumn zephyrs carried flavors utterly foreign yet blissfully intoxicating upon your virgin palate.

To the sights of children frolicking with that carefree jubilance you'd only witnessed glimmers of back home before the cruel realities thrust duties far too grievous for any youth to bear without being shattered under their karmic tonnage.

Watching those unburdened souls skipping about without any premature loss of innocence plastered a euphoric smile across your own features now shining with crystalline elation cascading freely down your flushed cheeks.

Even the humblest peddler hawking their exotic wares like some sort of sweet frozen dairy delicacy they called "ice cream" instilled raptures you never imagined possible beyond those oppressive constraints until now.

Eagerly exchanging a few meager coins from your supplies for that peculiar indulgence then wholeheartedly sampling the foreign confection for the first time:

Its creamy richness coating your palate evoking utterly saccharine waves of blissful tingles rippling across every single hypersensitized nerve ending flooding you with unequivocal revelry.

So much so that a few childlike titters even escaped past your reverent lips before you even realized it as your aura radiated incandescent jubilation that moment.

In fact, you'd become so thoroughly enraptured exploring this uncharted realm of wonders that the unmistakable presence of Eren Yeager silently accompanying your gleeful peregrinations had virtually slipped your consciousness entirely.

At least until sidling up conspicuously close enough for his trademark smokey baritone to caress the shell of your ear with a hushed timbre dripping equal parts bemusement and something more molten still blazing behind those emerald depths:

"Y'know, considering the gravity of our mission here...seeing somebody experiencing genuine happiness without inhibitions like this sure's one helluva rarity these days, ain't it?"

His murmur skated across your electrified senses still basking in those euphoric afterglow emanations even as the rigidly self-possessed Alpha scout gradually stepped into your peripheral vision.

The faint spectral aquamarine highlights coruscating through those disheveled chocolate locks framed that severely chiseled visage adopting his trademark impassive mask yet again...

...Well, almost.

For despite Eren's herculean efforts at refortifying that signature stoic exterior you couldn't help noticing the infinitesimal sparks dancing through the mossy jade pools where his razor focus remained transfixed upon your auras' jubilant interplay still rippling outwards.

Like he was savoring those ebullient kinematics stirring something primordial lying dormant within his resonance through the closest empathic proximity available.

Even still, the fleeting traces of mirth subtly crinkling the corners of those piercing emerald spheres conveyed wordlessly just how infinitely more precious such unabashed revelry had become in his existence defined by constant struggle and sacrifice of any frivolous indulgences amidst their neverending war against oblivion.

So despite fully knowing this temporary reprieve of jubilant exploration through Marley's streets didn't remotely align with their covert infiltration directive, Eren couldn't quite muster the stoic willpower to jar you from that liberated headspace yet.

Not when your uninhibited enchantment and reveries shone with the radiant hope he was fighting titanic battles to secure for everybody still suffering under that same oppressive despair they'd narrowly escaped beyond those walls...

[goosewriting]

I am a SUCKER for enemies to lovers

So hear me out, reader is part of the mantis crew as a healer and for some reason cal and them just don’t get along. at. all. And maybe like, they put their differences aside for the sake of getting the holocron first (not without some tension and snipping at each other) but after that’s over, neither of them have anything to take their mind off the other so they end up sniping at each other and getting into arguments a lot more often and eventually reader storms off after cal had said something particularly scathing and she maybe gets into trouble in some way? Like she’s not the best at fighting but then her blaster jams up and she thinks she’s done for but cal had followed her and saves her? Anyway, it all ends in a super heated kiss? Idk just a thought lol

(If you did write this, could reader be short? Like I’m 5’2” and I don’t see many fics where my height is represented? If that makes sense? And since I headcanon cal as six foot..)

Anyway sorry for the longish request! Just thought I’d drop in something lol

Have a good day/night!!

Can't Stand to be With(out) You

summary: after getting on everyone’s nerves with their bickering, Cal and reader are put in time-out to finally make up. 

relationship: Cal Kestis x gn!reader

warnings: second hand embarrassment, making out 

word count: 3k

A/N: to be frank, this was one of the hardest Cal fics to write. the request and idea in itself is great and i’ve been trying to come up with something since the moment you sent it in, but it’s been SO hard to find a way to convincingly portray cal like someone reader doesn't get along with because i literally love him sm i can’t imagine him ever being anything other than a sweetheart with the people he cares about 😭 so yeah i hope i did your request justice!<3 i love short!reader so please do send in some more for cal when i open reqs :’) 

[all masterlists] 🪶 [star wars masterlist] 🪶 [ao3]

(english is not my first language. constructive criticism and grammar corrections are very appreciated!)

• • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • •

Ever since the holocron was retrieved and destroyed, some deeper troubles seem to be coming to the surface amongst the Mantis crew. Or rather, between you and Cal specifically. Cere decided that the team should lie low for some time until comm chatter about them calms down again, so you currently find yourself on a moon somewhere in the Outer Rim.

Cal and you accompanied Greez to the local market to get provisions, and even in small things like these, you notice how much friction has bubbled up between you and the redhead. 

If you’re being honest with yourself, you’re so tired of Cal’s way of going about things. The way he always goes in sabres and blasters-a-blazin’ instead of strategising a little more. That one time he literally jumped off the Mantis mid-flight on Kashyyyk? Absolutely insane. 

Cal seems to think that stims or bacta will cure anything. He comes up so beat up sometimes that you’ve questioned his self-preservation instincts more than once. You give him a piece of your mind as well when he comes back to the Mantis like this, that he has to better take care of himself out there, as one day he might be so injured, he might not make it back in time for you to patch him up again. 

He suggested that the solution might be to take you with him, and for a low stake reconnaissance mission he did drag you along, but you both quickly realised that that was not your strong suit. You know he probably didn’t mean to, but still, he made you feel like you were slowing him down. And you were pretty helpless against local fauna and enemies, still not completely skilled at shooting your blaster, since you had never had to use one before.

And if that didn’t make you feel pretty useless that day, then you had to swallow your pride and ask him to get some supplies from the top shelf, as you’re too short to reach. This was, unfortunately, not a rare occurrence. And while he never openly made fun of your height, this was just a reminder of yet another aspect where he was “superior” to you. 

Bringing your focus back to the task at hand, you point to a basket of fruits, saying that you should get some. Meanwhile, Cal is looking at some pre-packaged food instead of fresh produce; he vouches for practicality, while you insist you should focus on nutrition. Greez rolls his eyes as you butt heads for what seems like the hundredth time today. 

Merely seeing Cal’s face brings up anger in you now. Your mind trails off again as he goes on about ration bars, thinking about how insufferable he is. The way he thinks the whole weight of the galaxy resides on his shoulders; what’s up with that? He is so harsh with himself when something doesn't go as planned. And then the whole team has to deal with his sulking. 

Having had enough of your antics, Greez sends you both back to camp to cool off while he takes care of the food. 

“And by the time we’re back, you better be best friends!” he calls as you leave the market.

Cere is currently elsewhere with Merrin getting intel. As you’re both walking side by side in spiteful silence, Cal takes out his comlink, hitting up Cere and asking if he can join her. The gall of this guy! You shoot him an incredulous look. Cere says no, however, and in a hushed voice makes it clear that she, too, is fed up with your bickering, so you should make up already. Then she hangs up. 

The whole walk back, Cal is restless and frustrated. He claims to be stuck on the moon, and he feels like they’re losing time, that he could be doing something. 

You stop dead in your tracks, and he looks back at you questioningly. 

“You're always going on about doing more and more. Why can’t you take a break and be happy about what you’ve already accomplished?” you blurt out, unable to hold back any more. “You’ve saved all those kids on the holocron list. In the past months, you’ve almost died so many times I’ve lost count. I understand the cause, but you’ve neglected yourself for too long. Heal and rest properly so you can still go out there to do… whatever it is you do.”

You regret your poor choice of words the moment they come out of your mouth. You didn’t mean to downplay Cal’s actions and the danger he gets himself into to save people or get intel. But at the end of the day, you don't actually know exactly what he does and how. You only see the end result in the state he comes back in.

“‘Whatever I do’?” he repeats incredulously with a scoff. “What do you think I do? I’m sorry I can’t stay inside the ship all the time playing nurse.”

Whatever intention you had of backtracking and rephrasing is thrown out the window. His words sting.

“Playing…?”

You haven't told him about the nightmares plaguing you, where you see him over and over, bleeding out, falling to his death, unable to rescue him. He dies in your arms every time.

But you’re not about to tell him that. So you storm off. Where to, doesn’t matter, you just need to get away from him. 

You can hear Cal calling out to you as he tries to keep up with your hasty pace, navigating through the maze of narrow passages that make up the village. At some point, you manage to lose him after squeezing through a rather small opening in the wall, and you stop to catch your breath. Your mind is reeling, and there are so many things you want to tell him but know will get you nowhere. The team wants, needs you to make up to function properly again, and you know it. You’re aware it’s not just him but you as well who has become extremely irritable, causing the team morale to sink considerably.

Leaning back against the brick wall, you groan in frustration. Why does it always have to be you to give in, and swallow your pride and words for the sake of a moment of peace on the Mantis? It’s not fair.

As you’re mulling over this, you don’t hear the steps quickly getting closer. By the time you realise what’s happening, a bandit is standing in front of you, holding a knife in his hand. You don’t really have anything to give him, so you quickly push yourself off the wall and make a run for it. Turning around mid-run, you try to shoot at the bandit, but of course your blaster gets jammed, so you throw it at him instead. The guy easily dodges the weapon, quickly closing the distance between you two. 

When he inevitably reaches you, he harshly grabs onto your arm, bringing you to a forceful stop and slamming you against the wall. There’s a blur of lights as Cal appears out of seemingly thin air, fighting off the bandit, who quickly escapes with a yelp of fear. 

You shake your head at Cal’s actions, so much for “lying low”; here he is, yet again, sabre out. 

“Put that thing away before someone else sees,” you reprimand him, looking around the passage, but luckily there’s no one. 

Cal retracts his weapon, clipping it back to his belt, hidden under his coat. He looks around one last time to make sure the coast is clear, then turns to you with a frown, surely to scold you, but whatever he was going to say dissipates, as does his anger, his face instead morphing into worry.

”You’re bleeding,” he points out, his hand coming up to your temple. But you swat him away, hissing as you touch the wound caused by getting slammed face-first into a brick wall. You look at the blood on your fingertips accusingly, like it’s to blame for this whole situation. 

You walk back to camp in silence, not without retrieving your blaster that you threw a couple streets further back. Cal follows a couple of steps behind you, and you don’t look back at him once. 

When you arrive, you’re glad to see the rest of the team hasn’t come back yet. You get your things and go to the refresher to use the mirror to patch yourself up. Cal wants to help, but you swat his hand away for the second time that day. So he leaves you alone to clean your wound and apply some bacta, then you place a little gauze over it. 

When you come back out, you find him sitting on his bunk, and he calls you to him, so you sit next to him, both of you surrounded by uncomfortable silence until he speaks.

”About what I said earlier–“

“Don’t,” you cut him off, shaking your head. “You’re so concerned about the entire galaxy out there that you forget the people right here with you.”

“What do you mean?” He looks at you, offended. 

The sound you produce is something between a scoff and a groan of frustration, starting to turn away. 

“I don’t forget about any of you!” he remarks, gently holding your shoulders to make you face him. “I couldn’t do this without you, and if anything, we’re doing this also for ourselves. Because we can, and others out there don’t have the chance to fight back.”

“Ugh!” You free yourself of his hold and stand up, pacing up and down in front of him. “You’re like, this all powerful being of legends, moving stuff with your mind, effortlessly picking your enemies off, while I'm back here, worrying about you to the point I can't sleep. All the time, but especially ever since we destroyed the holocron, you go around picking fights, going after imps without thinking of the consequences that could have for the rest of us!”

He looks at you, and you can feel your whole body shaking.

“Is that what you’re worried about?” he asks. “Nothing will happen to any of you, I’ll protect you.”

“But what if you can't!” Now you’re close to tears, sitting back down on his cot, looking up at him almost pleadingly. “What if you don’t come back?! Do you know how terrified I’ve been every time you left and I didn’t know what state you’d come back in, if at all?”

“Wha–”

This time, it’s your hands that come up to his shoulders, and you shake him back and forth lightly to emphasise your words.

“You say you’ll protect us, but who’s protecting you, Cal? I can’t go out there with you, we’ve already established that. But what if you need me? What if I can’t get to you in time? I could never forgive myself.”

“You’ve got it all wrong,” he says, taking your hands in his and giving them a reassuring squeeze. “The reason I can go out there in the first place is because I know you’re safe, and that you’ll be here when I come back.”

“That’s not sustainable at all,” you say with a huff.

“It’s worked this far, though, hasn’t it?”

There is a moment of silence as you hold each other’s gaze, and while you’ve seen his eyes a million times, for the first time you realise just how deep of a blue they hold. Were they always this beautiful? 

“So all this time, you’ve been worried about me?” he asks almost shyly.

“Obviously,” you answer. 

“I thought you disliked me. Some days even hated me.” 

“What? No. I mean–” 

He raises his brow questioningly, and as you’re trying to formulate an answer that encompasses that some days you can’t stand him but he, in fact, means so much to you, you look down at your hands still in his, and he holds onto them even tighter, as if scared that you might let go. 

“I mean, I, uhm,” you stumble over your words, looking back at up him, aware of the heat spreading on your face. “We’ve been part of this crew for a while now. I guess I’ve become rather… fond of you. As a colleague, you know.”

“Colleagues, huh,” he says, and a grin spreads on his face, an adorable blush adorning his freckled cheeks. “That’s too bad, because I think I just realised I, uh, like you. A lot, actually.”

You can’t help but laugh at the timing of such a confession.

“To think that all this time we were giving each other such a hard time,” you say, shaking your head.

“Maybe it’s better that way, though.”

“How so?” you ask.

“Had I known back then, it would have been infinitely harder to leave for missions. I know it certainly will be from now on.”

“I could still join you,” you joke, and you both laugh, knowing that that’s a bad idea for a multitude of reasons.

“Absolutely not. I’m not putting you in danger,” he says, his hands momentarily letting go of yours to gingerly run up and down your arms as he looks lost in thought, cherishing this moment. Then his eyes snap back to yours as if he suddenly remembered something.

“You said earlier you're so worried that you can’t sleep?”

“Ah, well, yeah,” you say with a slight shrug, trying to brush it off. “I’ve been having some nightmares, but nothing serious.”

Cal gives you a deadpan expression. 

“Yeah well, you know,” you try to come up with an explanation that holds the least amount of detail as possible. All the while, his soft caresses seem to light your whole body on fire. “You’ve come back pretty bruised at times. I was, am, scared that one day I won’t be able to patch you back up.”

“Believe it or not, I do know my limits. I wouldn't ever put myself in actual danger if I knew I was in over my head.”

“And I believe you. What I'm worried about is your ability to assess the situation.” 

“Ouch,” he chuckles. “Maybe I can just see more from where I stand.” 

You narrow your eyes at him.

“Do you mean through the Force, or are you actually calling me short right now?”

He grins.

“Oh, you better watch out for your kneecaps, young man, they might go missing one night!”

“Yeah? I’d like to see you try…  shortie.”

“Oh, that’s it!” 

You play wrestle him, and he scoots further back onto the cot, so you follow, throwing half-hearted swipes at him, until you realise that you ended up climbing on top of him.

“Ah, sorry–” you apologise, trying to lift yourself off of him, but he holds you down, bringing you closer by your hips so you’re straddling him, and he sits up with you on his lap.

“It’s not just blind arrogance, by the way,” he says, bringing his hand up to run his knuckles over your jaw. “I trust the Force and my Master’s teachings more than I trust myself. They haven't failed me yet. I'm here. I’ll be here tomorrow, and the day after. So please, the last thing I want is for you to lose sleep over me.”

“I’ll try.”

Cal properly cups your face with both his hands now, and you place yours over his, leaning into his touch. Your faces start inching closer, like a magnetic force is pulling you together.

“It might help if you’re there when I fall asleep, though,” you whisper, lips ghosting over his. “Just a hypothesis.”

“I’m sure that can be arranged.” 

When he finally kisses you, it’s like all the pieces of a puzzle fall into place. Everything makes sense now; the tension between you two, which had been there from the very beginning, was and had always been attraction. Disguised as snarky comments, arguments, glares and grumbles; in the end, you’d always find yourselves together, seeking out each other’s company.

As this realisation hits you, you feel a weight being lifted from your shoulders. But there’s a different weight on you now, one that you welcome, as Cal pushes you onto your back on his cot, climbing on top of you. He kisses you with desperation, as if making up for lost time, and you pull him closer, but it’s not enough. Everything you feel, taste, and breathe is Cal, and you don’t want this moment to end. He breaks the kiss momentarily for some much-needed oxygen, and attacks your throat instead. You bring one hand to your mouth in an attempt to stop the sounds threatening to escape, but it doesn’t work, and they only spur him on. Bringing his lips back to yours, his tongue finds your own. He snakes an arm around your back, further arching into him.

Suddenly, Cal flinches in surprise and pulls back, leaning on his elbows on either side of you.

“W-what?” you ask, out of breath.

“Cere is outside,” he merely says, a violent blush going from the tip of his ears all the way down to his neck.

“How do you…?”

“She was, uh, checking in, to see if we were here,” he says, unable to look at you.

“Well, can you tell her to… wait a bit longer?” you ask, running your fingers through his copper hair. His eyes find yours again and he tilts his head to the side, a smug smile starting to spread on his lips.

“Hm… You’re cute when you’re needy,” he says.

“Shut up,” you say with no snark whatsoever, chuckling. 

“Maybe we can take this somewhere else,” Cal proposes, leaving a trail of small kisses on your jaw. “There’s a pretty good spot up by the hills, it has a nice view.”

“Should we pack some dinner too?”

He takes a moment to look down at you underneath him, then smiles with hungry eyes, towering over you.

“Good idea, I’m starving.”

— — — — —

Meanwhile, outside: Cere pinching the bridge of her nose with a groan, Greez giving her a confused look, while Merrin looks strangely proud.

○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○

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[sarahowritesostucky]

📖"The Taste of You"

Rating: Explicit

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Bucky Barnes

Word Count: 4002

Tags: Fresh AU, dark rom-com, dark!Bucky, pre-serum Steve, kidnapping, cannibalism, yandere/basement wife, meet cute-ish, gay sex n' stuff, ignoring of sexual boundaries, dub-con bordering on non-con, (mostly humorous) gore, (mostly humorous) body horror

Summary: Steve is so tired of the meat market that modern dating has become. Just when he's deleted all the apps and given up on ever finding Mr. Right, he meets the perfect guy at the grocery store.

A dark, cute, funny, fucked up, and very tasty love story.

It's a Fresh AU. "If you can't handle the cannibalism, get out of the kitchen" ... or something like that

10. Acquired Taste

Wait! I haven't read a previous chapter. Story Masterlist

Bucky:

Bucky typically has two avenues, when it comes to acquiring new product.

1) Conduct recon, establish a relationship with her/him (though usually her), lure to a secluded location, incapacitate (usually via roofies)

2) Conduct recon, stab & grab on site (needle, not knife—jesus he’s not a monster)

Each avenue presents its own advantages and risks. Relationships and dates take more time and work, they don’t guarantee he’ll get the access he needs, and he runs the risk of someone else in the victim’s life learning about him before they’re disappeared. Stab & grab is by far his preferred method, but he has to be extremely mindful of security footage. Everything’s recorded these days, and in a city like New York, people live in each other’s pockets. Which method Bucky chooses usually comes down to how isolated the candidate’s life is. Carlo made his pick for who Bucky’s got to pay him with, so Bucky drives into the city early Monday to begin his reconnaissance process on Erica Buccanetti. He spends that Monday through Wednesday 7am-10pm, learning all about her.

Erica is twenty-nine. She’s a short, white, “curvy” woman of middling education who works at the DMV. Her job alone makes her deserving of what she’s going to get, Bucky thinks. Erica works Monday through Friday, gets in at 8:55, eats lunch at her desk, and clocks out no later than 4:50 every day. Erica goes to a gym after work and runs on the treadmill until she looks miserable and exhausted. Erica takes the train home to her duplex in Alphabet City, where she has a cat and drinks wine and…

Bucky tosses his binoculars aside, exasperated. “Dammit.”

Erica has three housemates. Fuck.

He can’t do a stab & grab when there are roommates, certainly not three. It’s too risky. Now he’ll have to put in the extra effort to try and run into her somehow, strike up a conversation, get a date or three.

He puts the car in gear and speeds down the block, eager to get on the highway and get home to Steve. He tunes the radio to an 80’s station he likes and taps out the beat as he navigates traffic.

This is the last time, he swears to himself, the absolute last time he lets a client pick their target. It’s too much pressure on Bucky, having to succeed with that one specific girl. Better to have a handful of potentials going, scoop up the one who makes herself the easiest victim. It’s not like most of them don’t do a bang up job of it.

Twenty-some years of “stranger danger” and true crime shows are usually enough to cement the “it won’t happen to me” mindset. Sometimes they’ll even find the right moment to throw out a lame, faux-suspicious “You’re not a serial killer, right?—haha just kidding!”

Bucky thinks it’s a hoot. Obviously these bitches don’t follow the eastern principle of karma.

Monday, Tuesday and Wednesday nights, he gets in very late, after midnight. But he still pops down to check on Steve. He brings them both a drink, hands Steve his, then slides down the far wall to sit. “Ugh.”

“How was your day, honey?” Steve asks. Sarcastically, but at least he’s making jokes.

“Long,” Bucky says, tipping back his old fashioned. They both like them. Maybe it’s become one of their things. “So for this payment, I let Carlo pick his girl,” he says, letting his eyes slip closed as he rolls out the tight muscles in his neck. “Stupid.” Steve is quiet for a long time, and Bucky suspects he’s staring at him. He doesn’t open his eyes to find out. “What?”

“Nothing,” Steve says. “Just … wondering about the logistics of it, I guess.” He’s quiet for another long moment, the ice clinking in his glass telling Bucky when he takes another sip, and then another. “So … are you bi?”

Bucky opens his eyes. “What?”

Steve shrugs. “You date them to get to them. Does that mean you’re into women?”

“Well …” Bucky is, but … “I prefer men,” he says. “By far. But the clients want women, so that’s what I supply. It’s pretend, Steve.”

“Mm.”

Bucky narrows his eyes, sensing Steve’s judgment and not liking it. “I pretend to date them. Briefly. If I have to.”

Steve shrugs and looks away dismissively. “Seems kind of mean, to me.”

“It’s not!” Bucky scowls, straightening up from where he’s been sitting slumped against the wall. “I’m totally nice to them!”

Steve snorts. “Yeah, until you start harvesting their parts for food.”

Bucky glares at him. “Maybe we shouldn’t talk about this.”

“Yeah maybe we shouldn’t.” Steve sniffs and looks away. “Not exactly great to hear all about how my boyfriend’s a serial killer.”

Bucky brightens up some at the word ‘boyfriend’. “I’m not, you know. A serial killer.”

Steve’s eyebrows raise sky high. “Oh really? So what would you call it when you kill people, ya know, serially?”

“I don’t get a thrill out of murdering them,” Bucky insists. “I keep them alive as long as I can.”

“I’m sure they appreciate that so much.”

“I keep them comfortable!” Bucky defends. “This is a nice place! I give them gourmet food, they’re on tons of pain meds. They don’t feel a thing.” Steve isn’t even looking at him now, and Bucky’s mood sinks. “... They’re not nice people, Steve,” he says darkly. "They deserve a hell of a lot less than what I afford them.” He watches Steve for a reaction, but doesn’t get one.

Steve just tosses back the end of his drink and fishes out the cherry. He pulls it off the stem with his teeth, chewing it while staring Bucky down. “Done,” he says, pushing the glass in Bucky’s direction.

It’s like he’s saying the conversation’s done too. Bucky sighs and shoves up to standing. He goes over and picks the glass up and gives Steve a long, rueful look. “Eileen,” he eventually says.

“What?”

“The woman in the other room." He nods out towards the hallway. “The one you saw. Her name was Eileen. And that’s whose kidney I had for dinner the other night.” Steve’s eyes widen a little, and Bucky smiles placidly. “Yeah. Good old Eileen. She was thirty two you know. Divorced but seeing someone new. She had a daughter. Cute kid: Tracy. She’s like, seven, eight? Has freckles and pigtails, likes Pokémon.” Bucky shrugs, then lets the mild expression slide right off his face. “Eileen was letting the new boyfriend rape her.” He gets satisfaction from the way that Steve’s eyes widen further and his lips part without a comeback. “Hm, yeah.” Bucky throws back the end of his drink and crunches down on the pieces of ice that float into his mouth. “So, Steve, when I tell you that you really shouldn’t feel bad for these people? You really shouldn’t.”

He turns and leaves before Steve can think of any other arguments. It’s good, Bucky thinks. It’ll give him time to think. Bucky didn’t come to grips with all of this overnight, after all. He can’t expect Steve to, either.

Steve:

In the basement, Steve has lots of time to think. In fact that’s all he does other than sleep. He thinks about the chances of anybody ever finding him here, figures they’re probably low. Bucky’s done this before, maybe dozens of times. He knows how to get away with it. Steve thinks a lot about that, about how there are a bunch of rich as fuck cannibals out in the world, just existing and merrily eating people. How Bucky eats people and thinks that it’s totally fine. How he likes the taste of eating people. It’s nuts.

Steve does wonder, sometimes. What’s it taste like? He feels halfway sick with himself when the thought occurs, but it does occur. It must taste good, he thinks, to warrant such effort and risk. It must taste really damned good. At least to Bucky and his rich friends it does. Steve is sure he’ll never find out for himself. He wouldn’t be able to stomach it.

He thinks about the women who came before him, about how they must’ve felt, trapped down here while Bucky slowly sold off their meat. How many have there been? Steve wonders. And what were their crimes that got them sentenced to this? How did Bucky know they were bad? Steve can’t figure it out, but he also can’t forget what Bucky told him so seriously about Eileen the other night. It sits in his mind, coloring his memory differently. Now when he thinks of Eileen lying on the floor of her cell, begging him for help, he doesn’t feel as much pity for her as he used to. He doesn’t feel as much horror when he remembers her limbless torso wriggling pathetically under the sheet.

Bucky could be lying of course, just making it up so that Steve will accept him more readily. But somehow Steve doesn’t think so. Bucky’d had this look in his eyes when he said it. He’d looked vindictive, and vindicated. Steve shivers as he remembers it. Bucky truly does not have any compunctions about what he does, and he expects Steve to come around to it. Steve doesn’t think he can do that. He’s just hoping against hope that he can pretend long enough to convince Bucky. Long enough until he can get his chance for escape and take it.

He thinks about Carlo, working on the cell down the hallway. Steve doesn’t see him much at all, just hears the sounds of his tools whirring, the smell of fresh wood being sawed, concrete being poured, him taking a piss in one of the other cells' toilets every few hours.

At first Steve does wonder what he might be able to say to try and entice the man to help him escape. But he settles on a big fat nothing. There’s nothing Steve could offer him to get him to take that risk, no way. And it’d be too big a gamble to try anyways. He doesn’t want Carlo to alert Bucky to his attempts at scheming, which Bucky warned Carlo would do if Steve acted up. So Steve keeps his mouth shut when the man arrives and departs each day.

Carlo doesn’t say anything to him. He probably figures that Steve’s dead meat anyway.

Steve considers that maybe he is, and Bucky’s just lying to him to keep him calm. Maybe Bucky tells all the women that they have a chance for survival, if only they’re good and don’t act up.

It’s fucked, but Steve imagines Bucky doing it—taking little pieces from him until there’s nothing left to do but put an end to him. He imagines Bucky kissing him lovingly, then injecting something into his veins and harvesting his internal organs. He imagines Bucky working in the attractive kitchen upstairs; humming a tune, cutting Steve up, pan searing his kidneys and eating them with a Beaujolais.

Steve wonders if he’d taste any different than everyone else Bucky’s ever eaten. Probably not.

Stringy, he thinks, looking down and assessing his arms and legs and torso with a novel sort of appreciation. Steve’s so thin and so tough, he’d probably make a horrible meal.

Bucky:

He plans it out meticulously, just like he always does. But even after all these years (fifteen, to be exact) he still gets that nervous feeling every time he makes his move. Stab & grabs don’t get to him nearly as much. Those are easy, impersonal. It’s the women he has to introduce himself to and flirt with and feign interest in and good intentions for that cause the nerves. He’d call them butterflies, but that seems cruel to compare his meet/capture/kill nerves to first date nerves. When he met Steve, it was a whole other feeling. What he’s about to do now isn’t the same, it’s not innocent like that, and he doesn’t need to pretend that it is.

Bucky knows he’s actually like, the perfect guy for this. He’s good looking and a natural flirt, excellent at making conversation and getting people to like him and to want to open up to him. Women tend to feel instinctively safe around him, so normally he’s guaranteed success in the “meet cute” department. It’s just that ... well …

He’s getting on in age these days, alright? He’s a—very damn handsome—37 years old now, and unfortunately for him, his clients’ tastes tend to stay the same, meaning the pervy old leches keep wanting their women rare at 20-ish. Bucky still has a very high success rate, but there’ve been a few college-aged girls who he approached wrong and they turned their noses up at him.

But he dyes his greys now, okay? He does the whole skincare regime, does Botox (conservatively—he’s got taste). And he’s learned to dumb himself down a bit when he’s going after the younger ones; talk a little smoother, a little less cultured, dress more age-appropriate. Turtlenecks apparently send off the wrong vibe. Unless the girl is into the whole Daddy thing, then it works in his favor.

Anyway, it’s not that big of an issue. All he has to do is flash his car or casually wear a Rolex on a date and even the most dimwitted or discerning potentials fall all over him. Bucky could give straight guys lessons, he swears.

He drives into the city wearing joggers and sneakers and a too-tight tee shirt, hair artfully tousled and earbuds draped around his neck in show. He goes into the gym, into the locker room, spritzes water around his hairline and the neck of his tee shirt, then bumps into her outside—when she’s on her way in, not out. No woman feels sexy after a workout (at least not the kind Erica is torturing herself with)—and exclaims in concern when she stumbles. Ohmygod, I’m so sorry! He grabs her forearm and lets the other hand brush over her waist as he “makes sure she doesn’t fall”. Are you okay?

Her eyes catch on his smile and his biceps right away, so Bucky's confidence is bolstered. He spends the next twelve minutes flirting with her, telling her his name (James), and how glad he is that he at least bumped into the prettiest girl at the gym (not true). Her eyes light up when he mentions that he’s a doctor, and shortly after that he’s typing his burner cell number into her phone. I put myself down as ‘handsome stranger whom you’re definitely gonna call’.

She titters at his joke and smiles, obviously tickled pink as they’re saying goodbye. “Yeah. I’ll um, I’ll call you. Maybe we could meet up for drinks or something?”

“Great!” Bucky shoots her a wink to seal the deal and jogs off down the block. He stops once he’s around the corner and starts walking at a normal pace back to his car. He hums a tune to himself, pleased at how easy that’d been. Now he can get home and probably not have to go out again until Saturday. If Erica’s as easy as he thinks she is, he shouldn’t have to go on many, if any, other dates.

Steve:

“Hey.” Bucky knocks on the doorframe as he slides it open. He steps in, head tilted, cautious smile playing at his lips.

Unfairly handsome, Steve thinks. Those women don’t stand a chance. “Hey.”

“I was hoping you’d still be awake. Wanted to say goodnight.”

“You get her number?” Steve asks. Because he knows that’s what today was—bump into Erica day.

Bucky seems wary, but he comes in and engages anyway. Steve almost feels bad for him. “Yeah,” Bucky says, toeing at the carpet. “Taking her out on Saturday.”

Steve rolls his eyes, scoffing. “‘Taking her out’, yeah.” He sees the hurt flash across Bucky’s face though, and feels bad about it. Ridiculous, but he still feels bad. “Sorry,” he mumbles, looking away. What else is he supposed to say? I understand? He can’t say that when Bucky’s holding him prisoner in his basement. Steve’s literally chained to the floor right now.

He sighs again, disappointed. He’s never been so disappointed in anything in his life. He fucking aches with it. Enough to cry, sometimes, if he thinks enough about Bucky’s smile over a martini glass, his bad dance moves in Steve’s apartment, his body in Steve’s bed. What they'd had together, how it'd felt like they were building something, something to look forward to. Steve bites his tongue so he doesn’t start tearing up when Bucky’s standing there. He doesn’t want to look like another weak victim, even though he knows he is. “You seemed like such a nice guy,” he murmurs, not looking at him.

Bucky comes over and kneels down in front of him. He looks so sad. “Hey,” he says softly, reaching out to palm the side of Steve’s face. He hums when Steve lets his eyes slip closed and leans into it.

Crazy, what a little bit of isolation will make you feel, Steve thinks.

“I miss you, Steve. I promise you this isn’t going to last forever.” When Steve just breathes silently, Bucky strokes his thumb over his cheek. Steve shivers. “Hey, would you want to go on a date with me?”

Steve’s eyes open. “What?”

Bucky smiles softly. “A date. You’ve been so good this whole time, and I miss you.” He leans forward and pecks a kiss to his lips. It’s brief, but it still makes Steve’s lips tingle. “I miss spending time with you.” Bucky’s eyes flick over his face. “So how about it, huh? You want to come up and just hang out one night? I can make us something. We’ll have drinks, maybe watch a movie?”

Steve blinks, feeling so odd at being asked a question like that. One of the things he thinks about to pass the time is what he and Bucky might be doing right now, in their new relationship, if Steve hadn’t opened the basement door. “A movie?” he repeats softly. The idea of getting to leave this boring room for anything is tempting. Steve wants to escape of course, but even if he knew he couldn’t, he still thinks it’d be nice to get to do something. Even if it’s with Bucky. “Yeah,” he breathes, hopeful. He hasn’t been allowed upstairs in days, not since he took a shower. “M-maybe I could …” he cuts himself off, remembering how Bucky had taken advantage of the last time, how he’d touched him. And Steve was weak. He’d let him do it.

“Maybe what?” Bucky asks, looking so kind. He always does, like he’s just a kind, caring guy who also happens to keep Steve chained in his basement. “Steve? What were you going to say?”

Steve smiles and shakes his head. “Mm, nevermind.” He doesn’t need a shower. “Nothing.”

Bucky seems unhappy about whatever Steve’s not saying, but he doesn’t press him any further. He takes a deep breath and stands back up. “I won’t be out so late anymore,” he tells him. “Just a trip or two more to the city. You can have your real meals back again, no more of this junk food.”

Steve nods. Bucky’s left him with plenty of snacks these past few days, but Steve has missed the hot meals. He’s missed seeing Bucky three times a day, even missed the attention Bucky gives him when he’s eating. “Okay,” he says.

Bucky stands there for a long minute, staring at him. Steve keeps his eyes on the carpet but he can feel the weight of Bucky’s gaze. Eventually he hears Bucky sigh, then leave through the door. Steve looks up to try and catch sight of him on the way out, but he’s already moved on down the hall.

That night Steve falls asleep thinking about what it’ll be like, once there’s another person in the basement with him.

Bucky:

Bucky meets her for the aforementioned drinks. He’s dressed nicely, in a black button down and slacks and nice shoes. He wears the Rolex, because Erica’s got three housemates so flashing his wealth at her can’t hurt. He greets her with a smile and a hug at the bar, and they both settle in and order their drinks. Bucky asks her about her life, quickly figures out that she’s body conscious and makes sneaky little comments about how he likes a woman that doesn’t slip right through his fingers. She eats that shit up, and before Bucky knows it, she’s excusing herself for the bathroom and leaving her third cocktail behind.

Too fucking easy.

Bucky picks up both their drinks and informs the bartender that they’ll be moving over to that table in the dark corner over there. The bartender gives him a nod, and Bucky nods back. He can’t have the guy seeing it, when he slips the roofie in her drink.

He’s learned to crush them up into a Splenda packet. It masks the bitterness and then if he does get caught, it just looks like he’s sweetening the drink. Erica returns from the restroom and he flags her down to their new spot. “More privacy,” he purrs at her, and she giggles and sits down next to him.

They continue to flirt and talk about pithy little topics until he can tell that she’s starting to feel the effects. “Hey,” he says, not wanting her to be stumbling before they leave the bar. “I know this is fast but… I dunno, I just really like you.” He says it all bashful, like he’s embarrassed of himself, and she eats that up, too. “Would you maybe wanna go back to my place? We could have another drink, talk and listen to some music, or…”

He trails off, and she gives him an enthusiastic, “Sure, okay!” sloppy at the edges from how the drugs are creeping into her system now. She hasn’t realized it yet. Bucky has to get her out of this public place before she does.

“Great,” he says, smiling. He offers her his arm like a gentleman (and to make sure she’s steady enough on her feet to not draw attention), and she simpers and holds onto him and they head out. Bucky sees her recognizing the type of car that he drives as he opens the door for her and she gets in. She tucks her lips in like she’s trying to keep herself from outright grinning, which makes Bucky chuckle as he slides into the driver’s side and shuts his door. “Buckle up,” he tells her sweetly. “Wouldn’t want anything to happen to you.”

She giggles and obeys, and Bucky thinks about how she’ll probably be so easy, in the basement. Girls like her just want to be loved and approved of so badly. She’ll probably go from the Depression stage to Acceptance so fast, it’ll make his head spin. He’s glad. It’s always easiest for those girls. They suffer the least. And despite the fact that Bucky knows about Erica and her little brother who died under “suspicious circumstances” in 2009, he still doesn’t want to torture her. He’s not a sadist.

He’s karma.

She’s still conscious when they get on the highway, enough to look out the window and make a cute little confused noise. “Mm. You said your place’sin Tr’becca?” she slurs.

Bucky smiles and pats her hand. “Yeah. But I’m taking you somewhere else.”

It’s cute, how she pouts and tries to protest that. Bucky’s almost tempted to say something right then and there. But he doesn’t. He always likes to save the Big Reveal for when they’re settled in their rooms and fully sober. He likes to have a drink in hand, be relaxed in something comfortable. Really settle in for the show.

“Just close your eyes,” he soothes her, watching her fade out. “We’ll be there soon.” She passes out and Bucky smirks, thinking about how she’s about to get hers.

Because Karma’s not a bitch.

It’s a plastic surgeon who likes to cook.

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[destiny-aesthetics]

LORE: THE GARDEN-WAY

2. Fields (2/6)

This being the recollection of Irrha of the House of Slayers, apprentice to the Baron Kiiraskes.

Kiiraskes stank strongly of sea-grass and sunsoak root [1]. I took care to sit toward the front of the watercraft, but the odor wrestled powerfully against the wind. I did my best to focus on the task I had been given, which was to mix the contents of three flasks into a fourth. I prided myself on the steadiness of my hands, and the work was not so difficult that I couldn't steal glimpses of our route. We followed the river as it skirted the sprawling residential districts, then turned and cut toward the listing sun. I watched the crowds thin as canal-side markets gave way to orderly arrays of residential towers and aerial traffic, then to radiating lines of transport arterials, waterways, and roads, connecting each of Riis's great cities to one another in a shimmering network. We passed lines of pilgrims making their way to the site where the Great Machine first came to Riis, the hill at the heart of Riis-Ath- Lodrii. I saw high priests of the House of Dancers, devoted clerics who gorge themselves past satiation on Ether until they tower above their peers, then amputate their lower arms in ritual supplication to the Great Machine. It was strange to see those shambling giants. But there was something awe-inspiring in it. The shuffling march of hundreds, unified in purpose. Kiiraskes followed my gaze, then spat audibly into the water. "Fanaticism is what landed us in the wars. Fanaticism, pride, and Ether-thirst." I looked at her. "You were in the Edge Wars?" Kiiraskes hissed. "I have no war stories for you, hatchling." She gestured toward the flasks. "If this is serious, you should be prepared." "And if it truly is only an animal?" "You should still learn how to mix a tonic on the go. Don't drop that." The farms of the House of Rain were among the most splendid on all of Riis, and the quadrant assigned to Baron Haaksis was no exception. There were great swathes of forest, carefully hemmed and controlled, arranged neatly around crop fields. It could not have been done without the machines. Baron Haaksis had a fleet of them: small, autonomous drones that moved about planting, harvesting, and measuring Ether uptake. The sound of their toil was that of wind across grassland. A thousand small tasks undertaken without rest or complaint. For all this, the farm was strangely absent of workers. There should have been at least a few machine-tenders, monitoring the proceedings and providing maintenance and direction. Nor did any guards come to meet us as I lashed the watercraft to the dock. We stepped out onto sun-fed walkways braced by beautiful, leafy plants. Kiiraskes pointed to the bags of supplies, and in my eagerness to prove my strength, I gathered all of them. They were very heavy, and by the time I managed to follow Kiiraskes to Haaksis' doorstep, I felt as if I were pinned to the earth.

Considering the lush abundance that surrounded it, the round building where Haaksis kept his office was sparse and joyless. The sole decoration was two twin sets of blades he kept on one wall: a memento of the Edge Wars. I had seen dozens like them throughout my upbringing, only some of them genuine. More interesting was the drone on his desk, which Haaksis seemed to be in the process of repairing. It was a hybrid reconnaissance- defense drone called a "Shank," the kind that became popular during the war. Not many Eliksni still possessed them in peacetime. But such an interest suited a noble like Haaksis. Haaksis was dressed in the rich hues of Rain. He was of a height with Kiiraskes, if slighter in build, and stiff in his bearing. I bowed low and formally, feeling the weight of my House-less status. Kiiraskes reached out and lifted me bodily upright by the carapace with no more difficulty than she might have plucked a flowering plant. "I sent for Slayers," Haaksis said. He looked at me, and I felt my shell itch. Kiiraskes spread her hands, untroubled. "So we've come. The House of Judgment mentioned an animal." "No. I told them... I told them many times. This is not an animal," Haaksis said. At his sides, his claws clenched into fists, one after the other. "It is an old evil." I looked up at Kiiraskes but found no sign of her thoughts. Her mandibles clicked quietly. "You've seen it?" Haaksis sagged then, as if already weary of conversation. "It attacked my people. I tried to recover the bodies, but... And then the House of Judgment took its time-" "Do you know where it is now?" "No. Nothing can hide on this farm without the sensors tracking it. The forest tracts are just as well-tended. But there is a Garden- Way [2], between... we were letting that grow, re-wild for a few cycles..." "We'll track it down," Kiiraskes said. "Tell me where the bodies are." I felt relieved to hear her speak of us as "we." But the feeling didn't last long. Even as he brought up the displays and maps to guide Kiiraskes, Haaksis kept staring in my direction, and I realized he did not expect me to survive. _____________________ [1. Sea-grass seems straightforward enough, but I found few other references to "sunsoak root." Does it absorb Light?] [2. A space around farmland where the local flora and fauna are left to grow naturally. These were carefully maintained, so you couldn't really call them wild.]

[johngold123]

https://kyourc.com/read-blog/59151

Light Attack & Reconnaissance Aircraft Market Analysis & Growth Forecast to 2030

[kaya-w-art]

Today I bring a character study of Elia 🩵

Elia is Kaya's Padawan, this little Twi'lek was born in a slave market and being force sensitive he was immediately rescued by the order.

Kaya was in charge of rescuing the little Twi'lek and, having a very good relationship with the child, soon took him in as a Padawan.

Elia survived Order 66 because her teacher sent her on a reconnaissance task with a ship and her droid, an R5.

[bookish-whore]

Exile

Azriel x Reader

Words: 2.5k

Warnings: ANGST, mentions of infidelity, cursing

A/N: Welcome to Day Five!! After the slight hiccup yesterday I have rewritten and replanned this fic. it will still be a few parts but with much more angst and heartbreak. Love you ❤️

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It didn’t feel real, I still couldn’t believe it.

I hadn’t been feeling that well and so today while Az was in a meeting with Rhys and Cassian I decided to go to a healer. I thought I had a cold or caught a stomach bug or something but as it turns out it was neither.

Her words were still ringing in my ears.

We hadn’t really talked about having children yet, I mean it had only been two years since the bond became apparent between us and we had accepted it and while I was nervous about telling Az I thought he would be ecstatic about being a father. I saw the way he handled Nyx, the way he would get his longing look in his eyes when he held the babe and I knew it was only a matter of time before we talked about a family of our own…

But now it was real.

I was pregnant.

I couldn’t wait to surprise him with this tonight.

I knew that his senses were finely tuned and in all honesty, I was surprised that he hadn’t been the first to notice the subtle change in my scent. In his defense he had been rather busy with work as of late, Rhysand had him pulling a lot of extra hours and nights doing reconnaissance on the Autumn Court.

I put a shield in place, similar to what Rhys had done for Feyre when she was with child to keep it a secret a little while longer and I grabbed my bag making my way to the market, I was going to surprise him with all of his favorite foods tonight.

I returned to our apartment to find it was still empty.

I spent hours cooking and baking all Azriel’s favorites, I checked the time and it was half past six which meant he would be home any minute. I quickly set the table, lit the candles and set all the food onto it. I even made him a drink to relax him after his day.

And I waited.

And waited.

And waited.

I decided to eat an hour later. The food was delicious even if it was cold. But when I hadn’t heard anything about his whereabouts two hours later I gave up on the notion he was coming home for dinner and began cleaning up. I left him a plate of food wrapped in the fridge in case he was hungry when he arrived. If he arrived.

I made myself a cup of tea and sat by the fire reading a book, I figured he would just be home late but as I watched the time pass by I became worried.

Where was he?

Why hadn’t he come home yet?

I tugged on the bond, needing the confirmation that he was alright but I was met with silence. He had closed his side of the bond and I couldn’t get through. He had shut me out.

That thought only spurred on an avalanche of my worst fears.

I began pacing the apartment my hand absentmindedly resting on my lower abdomen. I contemplated reaching out to Rhys or Feyre but it was so late and perhaps they had sent him on a brief overnight mission and he just forgot to tell me. It wouldn’t be the first time and it would explain the bond’s silence. He usually shut me out during longer missions to keep himself focused.

I concluded that was the explanation as I sat back down curling into one of the large chairs in the living room and focused on my book. He would still have some serious apologizing to do.

I must have fallen asleep because I woke to daylight streaming through the windows of our living room.

The apartment was quiet.

I got up from the chair stretching out my limbs as I made my way to the kitchen for breakfast. As I cooked, I heard the faint sound of footsteps, followed by the clamoring of keys as the front door unlocked and Azriel stepped through the door his hair tussled and his eyes tired.

I ran into his arms, looking over him for any sign he was injured before I hit him square in the chest.

“Where the hell were you?” I exclaimed

“I’m so sorry my love. Rhys had me go to the Autumn Court yesterday to set up a network of informants it all happened so quickly and took much longer than expected” he apologized.

“I was worried sick Azriel” I said “I thought something had happened to you.”

He grabbed my face and kissed me “I love that you worry about me y/n, and I love that you care so much about my safety”

“of course I do you overgrown bat” I said as I wrapped my arms around his torso burying my face in his chest and breathed deeply. I noticed that he smelled…different.

I didn’t think too much of the jasmine and honey scent I thought it had something to do with the baby considering I was already hyper-sensitive to certain smells.

“Are you hungry?” I asked him “I was just making breakfast”

“I need a shower, then I’m all yours” he said pressing a kiss to my temple as he disappeared into our bedroom.

He emerged 10 minutes later, his hair wet and his clothes much more casual. I set a plate of food in front of him and took my seat as we ate in comfortable silence.

“Don’t forget we have dinner tonight at the River House” I reminded him

He nodded taking a sip of his coffee “that’s not until later though” he said suggestively “Come to bed with me” he begged holding his hand out

He did this sometimes, when he would come home off schedule and would spend the day in bed with me. They were my favorite days when the world didn’t exist outside of our room. We laid in bed all day simply holding each other. He fell asleep resting between my legs his head on my stomach as I rubbed small circles on his head and back.

Before we knew it we were headed to dinner.

When we got there Azriel immediately went to find Rhys and Cassian and I rendered my services to Feyre. I helped her put the finishing touches on dinner and set the table.

Dinner was fun as usual. Full of laughter and interesting conversation. I helped Feyre clean up, collecting the dishes and cleaning the table. When we were finished I wondered where Azriel had gone off to.

I walked into the sitting room and saw Mor, Amren, Varian, Nesta and Cassian. I had left Rhys and Feyre in the kitchen and I walked through the house looking for my mate.

As I turned the corner I heard faint voices. As I approached I realized we were outside Azriel’s room in this house, the door was shut but I could scent Azriel but I also scented something else it weirdly smelt like this morning…jasmine and honey?

It was then that I heard her voice through the door.

Elain? What was she doing in there with Azriel?

I couldn’t help but listen, pressing my ear to the wall to hear what they were saying. A part of me felt guilty invading his privacy like this but then they spoke.

“It was a mistake Elain” Azriel said, his voice sounded desperate

“What if it wasn’t. maybe…maybe the cauldron was wrong because Az I-I”

“Don’t” Azriel warned

“I think I love you” she said

“I have a mate Elain, a woman I love very much more than anything else in this world”

“Then why did you spend the night with me”

“I shouldn’t have” he said “it was a mistake, it was a lapse of judgement and it won’t ever happen again”

“Come on Az, you’re telling me that not even a small part of you wants to be with me instead? I am so much better than her, I deserve you, we deserve each other” she pleaded

Their voices suddenly sounded far away as it took a moment for the words to sink in. Last night he told me he was in the Autumn Court, that he was working How many nights had he told me he was working late recently. How many nights had he lied to me, lied to my face and spent time with another woman.

I needed to get out of here.

I felt sick.

So I ran.

I ran through the halls of the River House looking for someone who would tell me the truth. I found Feyre first. her face was full of concern as she took notice of me, my eyes wild and full of tears.

“Y/n” she said softly “what’s wrong, what happened?”

“I need to talk to you and Rhys” I said trying to control my breathing. I didn’t want my emotions to bleed through the bond.

“Okay” she said wrapping her arms around me as she led me to their office.

She sat me in a chair and I immediately put my head between my knees, letting the tears fall as I processed what I heard. I vaguely heard Rhysand enter the office, closing the door behind him he made his way over to me, kneeling down to my level as he spoke gently “What’s going on y/n?”

“It-its Azriel” I choked out

“Hey hey hey. Its alright” the high lord said “take a deep breath and tell me what happened”

I followed his instructions, breathing deeply

“Last night- last night did you send him on an overnight mission?” I asked

“No” Rhys responded “we had a brief meeting and he left around six”

I buried my face in my hands, nodding my head as he confirmed what I knew to be true.

He lied.

“Sweetie what is going on?” Feyre asked looking between her mate and I trying to make sense of my state.

“I planned this big dinner for him last night be-because I-” I couldn’t say it “and he never came ho-home and this morning he told me th-that he was on a mission but I just heard him w-with E-Elain.”

Rhysand seemed to seethe with quiet rage.

Feyre seemed more concerned for me “What was so important about last night?” she asked trying to gather more context on the situation. I lowered my shield allowing them to scent me, to know the secret I was carrying.

“Oh y/n” she said pulling my into an embrace as she soothed my hair form my face “does he know?” she whispered against me.

I shook my head no. “I w-was going to tell him last night”

I sobbed harder recalling our time earlier how he could have held me knowing he lied, how easily he told me he loved me.

Feyre rubbed my back trying to soothe me, to get me to calm down.

“I have to get out of here” I said “please get me away from here.”

Feyre looked at Rhys, no doubt communicating without words.

“Where do you want to go” Rhys asked

--------------------------------------------------

Azriel wandered the rooms of the River House. He hadn’t seen you in a while and was somewhat curious about where you were.

He walked into the kitchen to find Rhys and Feyre engaged in a heated conversation of angry whispers.

“Hey have either of you seen y/n?” he asked

Feyre looked to Rhys her eyes wide. She obviously knew something Azriel didn’t

“What’s going on?” Azriel asked

“Before I tell you. you need to know that we had no choice” Rhys said sternly tapping into his powers for authority in this situation.

Azriel immediately became panicked, he reached inside his chest for the bond, that tether that attached you together and he pulled needing your comfort right now, but there was nothing but silence, the bond was- was cold.

“What the fuck is going on” Azriel demanded

“Y/n asked for our help” Rhys said calmly “She knows you lied about where you were last night and she overheard a conversation you were having with Elain earlier and she was freaking out…Azriel I have never seen her so distraught this- whatever it is you did- its destroying her”

“What did you do” Azriel growled at Rhys his wings flaring behind him

“You didn’t see her Az” Feyre interrupted “She begged us for help…to-to get her away”

“No.” Azriel protested “Rhys come on no you didn’t.”

“She’s-” Rhys began before Feyre shook her head speaking in his mind no doubt.

“She’s what?!” Azriel yelled “tell me where my mate is” he demanded

“She’s- gone” Rhys said “She’s under our protection until she says otherwise and you won’t be able to find her until she wills it”

Azriel screamed, it was a bloodcurdling painful sound.

He ran outside winnowing to your apartment with tears falling down his face. He couldn’t believe this.

“Y/N” he called frantically as he ran through the rooms looking for any sign of you

“no no no no no” he chanted as he ran to your bedroom throwing open the drawers to find them empty. Still not believing it he ran into your closet and found your side empty only a few hangars remained. You were gone.

As his grief overtook him he noticed a folded piece of paper on the bed.

His hands shook as he opened it revealing your delicate script.

Azriel, I never thought I could love someone so deeply, so completely, until I met you. I used to hear stories as a child about mating bonds about how rare it was to find someone who was your perfect equal in every way and when we felt it, the bond - you remember- it was like magic. I’m sure you are feeling very confused, blindsided, betrayed, and probably angry and I am sorry for that. but then again, I never thought you would hurt me. I never thought you would lie to me. I never thought you would spend a night with another woman while I was at home waiting for you. I am in so much pain right now that I actually dream of a time in the future when this won’t hurt so much. I hope that time and distance will help heal this wound, will help heal us. I love you Az, and I will continue to love you even though it’s tearing me apart. But I am putting my love for you aside because I won’t raise my child in this environment. Please forgive me.

Your child.

The words stabbed into him like a knife, and he read it again. He had to be sure he read the words correctly.

Your child.

You were pregnant?

He collapsed on the floor his wings sagging behind him as he sobbed.

--------------------------------------------------

Tune in tomorrow for Day Six ❤️

--------------------------------------------------

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[uzumaki-rebellion]

"Tethered to You" Chapter 2

Masterlist HERE.

"There's somethin' about you I'm likin'

Bit too much, is a bit frightenin'

Got a bit of bite to you like python

Got a bit of fight to you like Tyson

All my things sound like they sin

Never planned to be in like I'm in

How you could put this cherry on this cake and make it icin'?"

Normani – "All Yours"

Osha couldn't shake the coiled tension in her dumbstruck body. It wound its serpentine hold around her limbs and torso making it impossible to think the impossible for hours.

Mae was alive.

Her twin sister was alive and responsible for assassinating two Jedi masters in cold blood.

The pungent afternoon air on Olega cooled her heated face. She kept pace with the Jedi who stalked through the dusty streets past mercantile shops and a few boisterous cantinas far from the Jedi Temple. A Jedi Master she hadn't seen in nearly two decades was having his lifeless body prepared for cremation as they searched for clues about Mae.

Her sister had taken the yellow leaves from the bunta tree —a tree from their long lost home planet —and created a poisonous elixir to aid her killing spree. The shock of it all pressed down on Osha's shoulders. An ache of shame nestled at her nape too.

Sixteen years.

Sixteen years since she rested eyes on her other half. The anger and cold bitterness that numbed her so long ago because of what Mae had done to their family and coven gripped her movement making her muscles tight. She wanted to see her sister desperately to make sure it was all real. But she wanted to throttle her too. Beat the bones out of her selfish body. Hell, she was still in a tizzy over reconnecting with Master Sol, her father-figure and savior, the man who kept his promise to protect her after the fire burned down her home-world fortress. She couldn't ponder the ebb and flow of clashing emotions for too long though. They were on a mission to find the nearest apothecary that sold bunta leaves. It had a short shelf-life for potency and Yord's Padawan narrowed it down to a shop located on a busy market square with heavy foot traffic. It was the most logical spot to begin their search.

Yord's young Padawan had done reconnaissance for them earlier. The man posted up inside the shop was not the regular known shopkeeper, and the Padawan ascertained he was Mae's partner-in-crime. The plan was for Osha to enter the shop and pretend to be Mae, get a confession from the suspect so that Sol could record it, and then suss out Mae's location. All without causing harm to innocent civilians wandering the area in case the stranger turned violent. She ran scenarios in her head of how she'd react once they captured her sister. None bode well for her twin.

Master Sol slowed his stride toward the apothecary and turned to her. Those kind eyes still showered her with quiet affection. He kept a reserved manner probably to keep her from freaking out at the circumstances.

"Are you ready, Osha?" Sol asked.

His calm stoic nature gave her courage to face the task at hand.

"I'm ready."

The Jedi watched her stroll into the crowd away from them. She blended in well looking like a salvage worker who just clocked out and sought a place to drink and hustle a new gig. Her neck swiveled to observe if anyone odd followed or watched her too closely.

She stopped in front of a garment-vendor's open-air shop and lifted her repair droid Pip from the snug holster on her hip, and stuck him on the front pocket of her meknek uniform.

"I hope you guys can hear me," she said into the top of Pip's head.

She purchased a long black shawl from the two-horned gray-skinned garment vendor and carefully draped it around her body and head. It covered Pip completely and she tossed a long lose end over her left shoulder. Inhaling a deep breath, she crossed a wide-open street and headed directly for the apothecary.

Her mouth became dry and she tried accumulating enough saliva to keep her tongue loose and voice from cracking. The apothecary had a wide clear window and she took a quick glimpse inside. She couldn't see anyone at first until she noticed a shadowy figure moving in the back. Standing taller, she slowed her pace and took another galvanizing breath. Osha kept her face neutral and entered the shop.

A strong odor of boiling peppery herbs struck her nostrils first before other scents caught her attention. The shop looked orderly if not a bit dust-laden from customers tracking in the powdery red dirt from the street. There was no sign of Mae anywhere, and the shop was devoid of customers. Scanning the layout again, she clocked the suspect carefully.

The man in the rear of the shop wore dark goggles and held something in his hand. A piece of fruit. Osha cleared her throat to get his attention.

"Hello," she said.

The stranger looked up.

Under the ill-fitting charcoal-gray tunic, trousers, and goggles, Osha couldn't discern what she was dealing with or what type of relationship her sister had with the man. Playing it cool seemed to be the right move in that situation and she waited for him to acknowledge her.

"Oh…hello."

"Hi."

Osha grimaced internally. She sounded unsure of herself and struggled not to fidget. Keeping her composure, she watched him take off the goggles and walk toward her. As he drew near, she noticed the intensity of his jet black eyes scrutinizing her. She flicked her gaze all around his face, preferring not to look directly at him. Her nerves ratcheted up and her feet started rocking back and forth. She stared at him to keep her focus but dammit! He kept moving around, slithering closer to her. Nothing bulky showed through his tunic and she was relieved that he carried no weapon on him. He appeared a good eight to nine inches taller than her from the quick guestimation she made sizing him up from the step-down floor section he stood in. One step up and he would be directly in front of her. She needed to keep a sizable distance between them in case he tried a sucker move with a hidden blade. He just wouldn't stop that slow lazy amble toward her and it brought a shiver to the back of her neck. She couldn't break eye contact with him again without looking suspicious.

Those sultry eyes burned into her retinas and caused her breathing to slow down. Had he turned her into prey that quickly?

"Hi? Hi…you alright? You're back so early," he said.

Think. Quick. Say anything. Keep him talking.

"I wanted to see you."

Ugh! No…that sounded weird. It wasn't a gruff bossy tone that she imagined Mae would use like when they were children. His eyebrows rose up in confusion.

"See me? Oh…Mae…uh…are you okay? Did the poison work?"

There! They had him. He admitted to using poison with her. Where was her sister?

"You're acting so strange…"

He tilted his head to the side and those hypnotic eyes narrowed. A fluttering in her stomach signaled for her to stay focused on gleaning any information he gave up now. The steam from the bubbling pots throughout the shop gave the warm undertones in his tawny skin a moist sheen. His hair was tousled in messy black waves that were so glossy that they looked wet. It was obscene to be a vicious murderer and look that attractive.

"Wait…you killed Torbin without the poison. He will be sooo pleased…"

Why couldn't he be still? His body moved like the dance of a slow waltz, gliding forward on the balls of his feet, ready to spring on her if she didn't stay alert. She kept a hand on the stun blaster under the shawl. Sol allowed her to carry it for her protection. In the blink of an eye his head lifted to scrutinize her attire barely a foot away. He glanced at her lips and back to her face and she would swear on a holy book of Brendok that he wasn't the same man as before.

A trickster.

The stranger had become a changeling right before her besotted eyes. His gaze mimicked quicksand and she spiraled down into the pit of its murky, dreamy depths. A wolfish smile curled his delectable lips and she wanted to pivot and flee. His hold on her turned her body sluggish and unfocused like drinking Nightshade wine for the first time on Coruscant when she left the Jedi order. She lost hold of herself. Her breath...her limbs...and the deliberateness of it was uncanny.

Take control! Quickly!

"No…I used it. I just wanted to thank you."

She still sounded like a poor representation of her sister. Osha chose to gaze at the puffiness of his lips to keep from drowning in the covetous pools of his eyes. She would surely fold like bed linen soon. Focusfocusfocus.

She gripped the stun blaster tighter.

His eyes dragged down her entire body like she was naked and waiting for him to ravish her right there on that dirty apothecary floor. She tingled from the top of her head and down between her thighs not knowing if she needed her fight or flight instincts to take over…or that other primal thing she hadn't done in so long and craved. Fucking.

He openly eye-fucked her, watching her mouth speak words as if he never saw anyone do that before. Every inch of her face was scrutinized by him, like he was storing it to memory. She bounced in place on her heels awkwardly not knowing what else to say.

His rapacious gaze settled on her parted lips before he stepped up to her, crowding the space between them until he towered over her, his warm breath touching her skin. He smelled like the peppery floral scents swirling around the shop. His side-swept hair tempted her to touch it, wondering how the texture would feel rubbed between her fingers or falling down on her face lightly brushing against her cheeks.

He knew a secret about her. Those dark eyes twinkled with the knowing.

Busted.

"You look…exactly like…her…"

His breathiness on the last word made her eyes well up with tears. It was too intimate, too suggestive of something deeper than her twin sister. His words said one thing to her, but his eyes were speaking another language. He knew her…knew about her…no…this was something else…

Something tiny and insistent gnawed at her core where the remnants of the force still rested within her. Mother Aniseya, Mama, had taught her long ago about the Thread of Destiny. One could pluck at it and use it at will over time. The Jedi described the force in similar terms although in a more conservative and dogmatic fashion. Mama said she and Mae were part of the Thread…one made into two, and they were always supposed to be together.

This stranger plucked at her internal Thread and it sparked a desire that was beyond carnal. Soft feathery threads clasped at the electrical impulses in her brain. Cloyingly seductive. Shadowy. Dark.

Passion. Lust. Rage.

His Thread intertwined with hers and braided their spirits together like Mama's silky midnight black fingers on her locs after wash days with Mae. Oh, how she missed Mama and Mother Koril.

Spice creams.

The emerald green forests of Brendok.

The giant bunta tree with its dazzling yellow leaves…

Yellow leaves…bunta—

Osha blinked, snapping herself from his mental hold. She whisked the stun blaster out and aimed it between his sinister eyes.

She blinked again.

The stranger threw his hands up all wide-eyed and shrank back from her like a frightened coward trying to cover his tracks. Yord stormed in brandishing a lightsaber with Sol on his heels. Osha stayed back by the entrance, confused as to what happened.

Cowering and meek, the stranger gave up Mae like a double-crossing Hutt in the outer rim territory. He shared no real information about who taught her sister how to fight like a Jedi and the only useful tidbit was that she would return for something later. The Jedi stomped past Osha at the entrance. She paused to take a final look at the stranger.

The meekness had vanished.

With his back straight and eyes blazing into her, the stranger stirred something primal and transcendent in Osha.

He was forbidden fruit she was not supposed to taste.

But she wanted to.

Chapter 3 HERE.

A.N.:

I'm going to shoot for dropping updates every Friday. Right now I'm going to power through to as many chapters I can churn out quickly while the irons are hot, but once I start leveling out, it'll be every Friday night.

My Black Panther readers know this already but FYI, I don't edit or make corrections as I write. I type it out and post it as soon as I'm done. That keeps the writing fresh and fun for me. Any typos, spelling/grammar errors etc. are squarely the fault of Qimir. Take it up with him and let me cook!

I'm not going to do a taglist for now. Just check every Friday for new drops. If there's enough interest on here, I'll think about doing a taglist later.

[mochademic]

100 Days of Productivity [Day: 55] || 100 Jours de Productivité [Jour: 55]

this holiday season I am extra thankful for caffeine, as I would not be surviving without it. I don’t think I’ve gotten to bed before 2A.M. for the last week, but somehow I’m still able to wake up for 6 without a problem. I haven’t been stressed; on the contrary, I’ve been quite satisfied & thankful. looking at where I was at the beginning of this year compared to now is almost surreal. & the best part of it all? I vowed to take this year slowly. I told myself I would stop over-working for the sake of the “grind-set”. the truth — or at least my truth — is that you must first get to know who you are & where your limits really are before you can successfully challenge yourself without burnout. could I have gotten more done? sure. we can always get more done. but that’s because there’s always going to be something else. but I’ve accomplished more than I ever have, & I have the results to prove it.

after finishing my first market weekend, I spent today working on custom orders & answering emails. this is probably one of the last days I’ll have this week to get preliminary work out of the way. I’m making the most of it.

currently listening // labour by Paris Paloma

En cette période de fêtes, je suis particulièrement reconnaissante à la caféine, sans laquelle je ne survivrais pas. Je ne pense pas m'être couché avant 2 heures du matin la semaine dernière, mais j'ai réussi à me réveiller pour 6 heures sans problème. Je n'ai pas été stressé ; au contraire, j'ai été très satisfait et reconnaissant. Regarder où j'en étais au début de l'année par rapport à maintenant est presque surréaliste. et le meilleur dans tout ça ? Je me suis promis de prendre cette année au ralenti. Je me suis dit que j'arrêterais de me pousser jusqu'au point de rupture au nom du "grind-set" dont beaucoup de gens disent qu'il est nécessaire pour réussir. La vérité - ou du moins ma vérité - est qu'il faut d'abord apprendre à se connaître et à connaître ses limites avant de pouvoir se lancer des défis sans s'épuiser. Aurais-je pu en faire plus ? Bien sûr, il est toujours possible d'en faire plus. Mais c'est parce qu'il y a toujours quelque chose d'autre à faire. Mais j'en ai fait plus que je n'en ai jamais fait, et j'ai les résultats pour le prouver.

Après avoir terminé le premier week-end de marché, j'ai passé la journée d'aujourd'hui à travailler sur des commandes personnalisées et à répondre à des courriels. C'est probablement l'un des derniers jours que j'aurai cette semaine pour faire du travail préliminaire. Je vais donc en profiter au maximum.

Chanson // labour par Paris Paloma