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aanxiousangel · 3 months ago

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happy endings ༄ Portgas D Ace .MDNI. AANXIOUSANGEL ©

synopsis ༄ you saved ace that day but nearly lost yourself in the process content ༄ mentions of death, the war at marineford (pre-timeskip), mentions of kid!reader bullied, uh…semi-described smut(?),… wc ༄ 2.5k author's note ༄ this actually is another request on ao3! i love ace so much and i ended up sobbing because this sweet boy deserved to live. actually, crying over whitebeard rn too LMAO im very sensitive rn SORRY!

No one knew why you were a part of the crew. Not why Whitebeard kept you around. No one knew you were the captain’s blood daughter. His one and only. His dream come true. Well…mostly. It wasn’t all that complete once your mother had passed giving birth to you. He’d never say it, but that broke him inside. Just a little.

After he’d collected so many ‘brothers,’ you had lost track of who was who at some point. Mostly, you stuck around the fleet commanders, recognizing them with ease. Marco, Jozu, Thatch… The list goes on. Honestly, they were all pretty sensitive about your slight forgetfulness so you had resorted to calling everyone ‘bro.’

Years and years had passed when you’d met Ace. At first, you really didn’t like him. He kept trying to fight your father, attempting to kick his ass and get the jump on him.

It never worked of course.

And finally one evening, he quit. You were at Marco’s side, hand on your katana’s handle. He carried a bowl of fresh soup, still warm and steaming. And all alone, you saw it. Well, you saw him.

Ace sat with his knees pulled up to his chest, head low as he wallowed. You tensed and stayed just a few feet back as Marco walked over, setting the bowl beside him. For the first time, you heard this man’s voice low and serious.

“Tell me… Why does everyone on this ship call him Pops?”

“You don’t get it? Because he calls us ‘sons.’”

You watched Ace’s brows knit ever so slightly, staring at Marco.

“None of us have any family left. Hell, the whole world hates us.” Marco continues, still smiling, “So, it’s nice, right? I mean, I know it’s just a word… But it still feels nice.”

Ace doesn’t speak. He drops his head, clenching his teeth as he fights off tears. Marco walks over, kneeling before him. You sigh, stepping closer to the two.

“What’s the deal? Are you really gonna keep on doing this even after he spared your life? You can’t keep this up.”

Your voice is quiet and gentle, making Ace’s shoulders tense, “Hate to break it to ya, but you’re not strong enough to kill him.”

“You can either get off this ship and start over,” Marco sighs, “or you can stay here and wear the mark of Whitebeard on your back.”

From that night on, Ace changed. He was a bubbly, fiery spirit. You ended up learning more about him and becoming closer. He had this kid brother he was so insanely proud of. Luffy. He was strong and ruthless, all with a smile on his face.

Eventually, Ace was granted the title of Commander over the second division. The party and feast prepared for the night he accepted was magnificent, courtesy of Thatch and his division. Into the night, while everyone danced and drank, you got a moment alone with Ace.

“Congrats, Fire Fist,” you bump his hip with yours.

“Thanks, princess,” he chuckles, leaning back against the rail while your elbows rest on it.

“Think you can handle it?” You glance up at him, watching the way his head tilts to look at you.

“I can handle anything.” He smiles, his arms folded against his chest.

Your eyes roll, smiling as you let your eyes drift back to the sea, “Always so cocky.”

“Nah,” Ace chuckles quietly, still staring at you all googly-eyed. “Maybe I just wanna impress ya.”

“And if I told you that you do?” You prop your chin on your palm, looking over at him.

“I’d…” Ace’s cheeks grow warm, a pink hue dusting his skin. “I’d ask you out. Duh.”

“Hm, cute.”

You laugh under your breath. He was the most attractive man you’d ever seen on these seas, but that didn’t say much.

Most people you’d witnessed were old pirates and gross. You know, scurvy and whatnot. Guess they’d gotten tired of taking pride in more than their strength and egos.

The townies you met were just stuck to their islands. Families married with kids who always wanted to play with you, begging you to tell them all about your adventures. The people around your age were just scared because you were a part of the most infamous crew. Adults of the town were just as wary, not even wanting the town’s kids to look at a criminal.

And you? You wanted your own son or daughter one day. You wanted your own family just like your pops wanted all those years ago. Well, now you did anyway. You used to hate the families of the islands, their children a bunch of bullies when you’d come to town. They’d run with their tails tucked when your dad’s crew would come along, scaring them away.

“Don’t worry, kid! We’ll play whatever games ya want back on the ship!”

“Yeah, Y/N! We’re way cooler than those little brats!”

You didn’t let them know how much it actually hurt though. You were…all alone. No kids to hang out with, no mom to hold you and tell you it was okay, no sense of childhood endeavors. Just…a kid having to keep it a secret that her dad was truly her blood. Eventually, you gave up and trained with everyone else.

You trained until you couldn’t take it. Sometimes wiping you out for days at a time.

When Ace came along, you finally had someone your age. Someone who made you feel like you could breathe. Like you could be free.

That only made it so much worse when Ace left in search of Marshall D Teach. And you took it even harder when he was captured by the government and set to be executed at Marineford. But everyone banded together and your father had come through. You finally met Luffy and swore that you’d kill anyone who dared get in your way to help Ace. Luffy definitely took a liking to you for that.

Even more so when Ace was rescued rather than killed. You fought yourself into a coma before you could see his freedom though. For weeks, Ace was a wreck. Beaten and bruised, he stayed at your side, desperate for you to wake up.

After sixty-seven days, your hand twitched around his fingers, clenching. He nearly passed out from the excitement, burying his face in your stomach as he sobbed. Something in you realized it was time to finally give in to his antics. To stop teasing and dragging him along.

“I love you, Ace.”

Those were the first words you croaked, throat dry and sore.

“What?”

“I love you.”

A loud thud hit the floor, making the door burst open. Marco was right there, panic wide in his eyes. He looked at you, mouth hanging open, and then at Ace laying on the floor.

“What the fuck happened?” Marco pointed to the male groaning on the ground.

“He fainted,” you wince as you speak, reaching for the glass pitcher on the nightstand.

“You’re awake…” Marco breathes out, walking over to you.

Marco called in a nurse, getting her to check on your vitals. Meanwhile, he helped Ace back into a chair, making sure his bandages weren’t off of his healing wounds. You watched Ace, watching him rub his head. His hat… His necklace… They were gone… You didn’t like that. His signature looks stolen by the war raging on. It wasn’t even close to over.

“Is…is Luffy okay?” You ask quietly, brows pinched in worry.

“He’s okay. Little brat is more resilient than anything,” Ace smiles softly, looking over at you.

Marco grinned, “Runs in the family, huh?”

You relax, finally getting cleared by the nurse. She gave Ace a quick once over before leaving the room, shutting the door behind her. You dip your toes to the floor, finding your footing. Ace got up quickly as you stood, clearing the path with two steps. His arms find their way around you, holding you close.

“My girl,” he breathes against your hair. “My pretty girl. Don’t ever fucking scare me like that again. Ya hear me?”

“I hear you,” you laugh against his chest, wrapping your arms around him weakly.

Eventually, the night falls, leaving you and Ace encased in the dark room. He cradles you almost all night, playing with the ends of your hair. You trace little patterns against his chest softly, listening to his breathing even out.

“I love you,” Ace says quietly and you hear his heartbeat speed up in his chest.

“I love you more,” you smile, moving to look at him.

The moonlight casts a soft glow across his bruised face, softening his features under the gentle light. He seems so peaceful even if only for a night. You find yourself hoping for this to last forever.

“I’m sorry…about your dad,” he brushes a strand from your face, frowning softly.

“He didn’t die in vain,” you whisper, swallowing thickly.

“He was your real dad though,” Ace murmurs, finally having learned about the bloodline.

“All those years… He taught me family is more than just blood,” your hand reaches up, brushing through his hair. “He loved us all more than anything.”

“I love you more than anything.”

His voice, quiet and timid, trembles ever so slightly. He meant it with all of his heart. Ace had nearly lost you, terrified half to death on that battlefield. Too much had already been lost in his life. You? He wasn’t letting go without all hell breaking loose.

“I want to live.”

Those words send a bone-chilling ache throughout your entire being, eyes widening.

“You mean it?”

“I do.”

“...I’ll hold you to that, you know. I won’t ever let you die.”

“Promise?”

His grin makes you roll your eyes, swatting at him softly. Ace can’t stop the laugh that slips past his lips and grabs your wrist to press a swift kiss to your palm. The kisses don’t stop, continuing along your arm until he reaches all the way to your jaw. He hesitates, breathing heavily against your jaw.

“Sweet girl,” Ace breathes out, screwing his eyes shut.

“Mhm?” You murmur, head tilted back.

“Can I kiss you?” His teeth scrape softly against your skin, desperate and fighting the urge to capture your lips without permission.

“I could never say no to you, could I?” You murmur, reaching under his chin to tilt his head.

Your lips meet, a groan rumbling deep in his chest. He straddles you, cupping your face like he couldn’t get enough. The kiss turned from something innocent and sweet to carnal and desperate. You claw at his shoulders, noises escaping you as your thighs tighten.

“Ace, please,” you mumble against his lips.

Ace grins against you, pulling away for a moment, “I’ll never get tired of your voice, you know that?”

“Don’t start being all cute,” you murmur, looking up at him.

“I can’t help it,” he pecks your lips through a laugh. “It’s just natural.”

“You’re so lame,” you grin, pulling him back to you.

Deeper into the night, he took his time with you, slow and patient. Ace pressed against you after his movements slowed, growing uneven from his rhythm. You were in tears, sweat coating the both of you when you felt something drip onto your cheek.

He hovered over you, panting. You weren’t expecting to see tears in his eyes.

“Ace? What’s wrong?” You rasp, reaching to cup his face.

“I didn’t think…” He sniffles, looking down at you, “I didn’t think I’d ever get the chance to be with you. I was so scared…”

“You don’t think I’d go out so easily, huh?” You smile, wiping his tears.

“I wouldn’t let you,” he leans down, resting his forehead against yours.

What would he do without you? His pretty girl. His other half. Thinking about it was the last thing he needed at this moment. He couldn’t let your first time go to waste now, could he?

Ace pressed a kiss to your dampened skin, rolling his hips against yours. Your breath hitched at the contact. Goddamn, he loved this side of you. One that belonged to him and him alone. How could he ever let you go?

Once he graced that weak spot that blew stars behind your eyes, he repeated it over and over and over. With half-lidded eyes, he watched your reactions to keep his movements in rhythm, careful and methodical.

But at this rate, he wasn’t going to last much longer. Not with the way your walls were squeezing the life out of him.

“A-Ace, I-”

“I know,” he grunts, his teeth sinking into your shoulder.

Your legs found their way around his hips, locking at your ankles. Your teeth sink into the flesh of his shoulder, somehow keeping you tethered to the earth. His hips stutter again with a grunt before he…

“F-fuck!” Ace buries his face into the crook of your neck, hands grasping at your plush hips.

It wasn’t immediately obvious to you, but he buried himself so deep within you that you didn’t stand a chance to avoid this new future. You blinked, panting as he collapsed on top of you.

“Did you…”

“I’m sorry,” he murmurs tiredly against your skin, taking the time to catch his breath. “Promise I’ll make it up to ya.”

And you, poor thing, were so exhausted that you didn’t give a damn about any repercussions that might come of this. You turn your head, pressing a kiss to his temple before passing out.

Several years later

“Uncle Luffy!”

“Rouge!”

“Rouge! Don’t run off like that!”

Your sweet little girl giggled as her uncle snatched her up, spinning her. You shake your head, smiling at their antics. Ace stuck by your side, arm always wrapped around you as the two of you walk over to the Strawhat crew.

“She gets that from you, you know,” you nudge Ace’s side.

He grins, ruffling your hair, “Yeah, yeah, so she’s a little rebellious. You sayin’ you weren’t a troublemaker back in the day?”

“Not what I’m saying,” you roll your eyes but still can’t help the smile ghosting your lips. “I’m saying that neither of you listen.”

“Just wait,” he pressed a soft kiss to your temple, “she’ll give that damn government a run for their money.”

Rouge gets all the attention from her ‘aunts and uncles,’ telling them all about your last little trip to Sphinx. You take your time, greeting everyone almost in tears. It felt far too long since the last time you saw everyone. Since you saw your family.

“Can’t believe you’re already three! You’re growing up so fast, Rouge!” Nami squished her cheek just as Sanji was bringing out a cake, decorated with pink hibiscus flowers.

“Happy birthday, Rouge!”

Ace held you from behind, chin resting atop your head. He thought back to all those years ago, to the battlefield where he nearly lost you and himself in the process. His sweet girls, safe and sound once again… He wouldn’t trade this for the world. Not now, not ever.

author's note ༄ sorry, gotta yap more rq! uh idk why i added in that tidbit about it being 'secret' you were the blood daughter of whitebeard and am now realizing that was probably dumb LMAO

dividers used: sister-lucifer. cafekitsune. anitalenia.

op masterlist

#writing #aanxiousangel #aanxiousangel one piece #aanxiousangel writes #ace one piece #one piece #one piece x reader #one piece x you #one piece fluff #portgas d ace x y/n #portgas ace x reader #portgas d rouge #portgas ace smut #portgas d ace #portgas d ace x reader #portgas ace x you #portgas ace x y/n

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jpitha · 2 months ago

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With Friends Like These...

The alarm startled N’ren. It had a mechanical, animalistic howl which hurt her ears. It was so loud, that she could feel the deck plates vibrate under her feet, tingling with noise. As she looked around, she could tell that it bothered the humans too, but other than a small flinch when it went off, it seemed to energize them. They all got more focused, more serious and moved faster.

The trip had been a whirlwind of sights, sounds, smells, and other sensations. N’ren Kitani, as the ranking officer of the Mel’itim - The Discoverers - was selected by the Captain to go over to the human ship and meet them. The fact that she was part of the secret police, and if she were… killed by human treachery it would not be considered that much of a loss to the crew was not lost on N’ren, but as much as she disliked the taste of that thought, she had to admit it did make sense. She had more training on body language and politics than anyone else aboard. Even if she didn’t know the details of the human’s political situation, she - probably - could see the larger picture easier than anyone.

She needn’t have worried about any human treachery. They had been more than accommodating to her and her needs, and everyone was fascinated by her presence. She knew that they were merely curious, but their close set eyes following her as she was given a tour of the ship was unsettling.

Menium - the K'laxi ship - had been in contact with the human’s own ship AI - called Longview - and between the two of them they had worked out a rough translation of the two sapient’s languages. Their language was an unintelligible garble of sounds and phonemes to N’ren, but Menium was an excellent translator, and she had managed to understand and be understood.

They had invited her to a meal and while she attended to gathering gladly, she didn’t eat anything. Not only was eating unknown food from a new group of sapients she had just met madness, Menium had warned her that some ingredients the humans used was toxic.

After the meal, N’ren had explained the war with the Xenni, how they were trying to expand their territory, and how - without some help - the war would last for decades at best, and be over quickly with the K’laxi being subjugated by the Xenni at worst. Three K’laxi border colonies had already been captured, and a dozen deep space stations had been destroyed outright. Almost exactly as she finished explaining the war, the Xenni came through the system gate and the humans’ long range sensors had detected the missile launches. N’ren had warned that they tend to go after ships with their energy weapons after the missile launches, and sure enough everyone aboard Longview heard the thunderclap report of the energy weapons ablating part of the Starjumper’s thick hull.

N’ren knew that the discovery of the humans, with their gigantic starships and wormhole generators was exactly what the K’laxi needed to turn the tide of the war. She needed to get back and report this new race to Fleet Command.

She was jolted back to reality by a human shouting at her in that staccato language they had, full of fricatives and harsh consonants. Menium spoke to her as the translator and she was able to get a sanitized and generalized version of what they actually said. N’ren didn’t think Menium needed to do the voices for different people though. Still, the point got across. It was time for her to go. Now.

“Leave? But, the checks aren't finished! Does my Captain know? She’ll need to make preparations.” N'ren said, worried.

"No. No time. Go Now. Your ship talked to our ship. They figured it out." The human was hurriedly putting on an armored pressure suit while talking to N'ren.

<Human Francine is right N'ren.> Menium said - in their regular voice - through the comm. <Longview and I have worked out the details and I know - mostly - how to operate their wormhole generator. Can you believe they’re actually giving us their own FTL drive? The Mel’itim command’s fur is going to puff out to twice it’s size when they see it.>

<Mostly operate it?> N’ren said back to Menium, worried. <Is it dangerous?>

<Is it more dangerous than getting captured or destroyed by the Xenni?> They countered. <No. Is it more dangerous than taking the Gates? Most assuredly.>

<Wait, never made contact?> N’ren hadn’t had time to speak to the humans about the other sapient groups they knew, but she had assumed they had met someone.

While N'ren put on her pressure suit - unfortunately not armored like the humans' - she wondered why Menium sounded so excited. They had never exhibited this kind of behavior before. It was more like she was talking with a person instead of the flat, matter of fact speech of a ship.

As she tightened the last ring on her gloves, she felt, rather than heard the strikes. Huge booming thumps along the bottom of the human ship and suddenly her suit shrieked that the pressure was dropping rapidly. Her large inner ears along with her prehensile tail gave her a better sense of balance than the humans; she was able to feel Longview start to rotate along it's axis.

"What's going on?" she asked Francine, the human that had been helping her thus far.

"Longview's rolling to keep your ship out of the firing line." Francine said, though Menium’s translation. "Longview's a big, old ship, she can take it" she said, and grinned through her helmet.

“Old? How old is Longview?”

Francine stood up and stared off into nothing for a moment. “She must be at least two thousand years old at this point.” She said and moved her head up and down vertically, once. “Yes, about two thousand years old."

Two thousand- <Menium, is that a translation error?>

Another brace of explosions rippled down the hull, knocking everyone off balance. Francine put her hand on N'ren's shoulder and pushed. "Go. Now." There was another explosion, this one larger. "RUN.”

As N'ren ran down the halls of the Longview, Menium reminded her to run on the right side of the hall as humans - all in pressure suits - ran with purpose around her. She noticed that more than a few humans were carrying weapons. <Why the weapons?> N'ren asked her ship.

<They're preparing to be boarded.> Menium said.

<What? The Xenni don't do that!>

The idea of humans forcibly docking with an enemy ship and pouring in, attacking gave N’ren chills. She made a mental note to report this to the Mel’itim.

N'ren made it to the umbilical that connected the two ships. There was a group of humans bustling around the docking room, checking settings and tossing crates through the umbilical towards Menium. A human engineer noticed her arrival and waver her over. “N’ren, your ship is ready. Our ship taught your ship how to work the wormhole generator and we're ready to set you off and escape.” He gestured towards the umbilical as he spoke. “We're going to push you with the docking arms, so don't hesitate to fire your main drive. Our hull is thick, your drive exhaust will be barely a summer breeze to us, we'll be fine." He grinned and stepped back.

��What about you? What are you going to do?" she asked.

"Oh, Longview is very old. She was a Starjumper before we developed wormhole generators. She’s practically more engine that ship. We'll turn our Stardrive on them as they come around. No worries!"

What did that mean? She wondered. Aloud she said “Sorry, I meant your wormhole generator. Aren't we taking it?"

Impossibly, the engineer grinned harder. "Oh, no we bottled a message and used the generator to link a beacon back to human space. Someone will come and bring us a new generator in a week or two. We'll be fine."

More explosions wracked the ship. The engineers grin fell as the ship began to vibrate worryingly. "Go. We'll be fine, but if you hold up much longer there won't be any ship left!” He clapped her suited shoulder and gently directed her towards her ship. “I’m glad we met. Go and tell your people."

****

Back on the command deck of Longview, the ship was relaying information to Captain Erlatan.

"Captain, Menium has been pushed away, and they're boosting away from us at their full speed. A small group of attacking ships has peeled off and is giving chase."

Suddenly, there was a blinding flash, and Menium was gone.

“It looks like Menium figured out the wormhole generator." Captain Erlatan said. "Excellent. Longview, shall we shake off our attackers?"

"With pleasure, Captain. Permission to engage War Emergency Power and thrust at 6 gees for 3 minutes?"

"Permission granted. I authorize you to use War Emergency Power. In the case I am incapacitated you are free to make your own decisions to continue the mission, save the crew, and save your own life in that order. Acknowledge."

“Acknowledged, Captain. War Emergency Power engaged. Fuses and limiters removed. We can operate at WEP for eighty three minutes before permanent damage occurs.”

If someone was watching the battle from a great distance, they would see Longview begin to rotate along the axes of the massive flywheels deep in the center of the ship. N’ren didn’t even get to see them in the tour. The humans were friendly and accommodating, but they knew that everything they showed her would get reported back. No need to give away all their secrets.

Longview oriented itself until the rear of the ship was facing the swarming Xenni ships. Thinking they were turning to run, the Xenni pressed their attack, and grouped together to concentrate their fire. When they were a few dozen kilometers away, Longview lit its old relativistic Stardrive and a jet of pure white, kilometers long, shot out the back as the ship thrust away at a withering six gees. Everyone on board was secured in acceleration couches or command chairs and while it was very unpleasant, it was over soon enough.

Moving too quickly to dodge the jet of pure physics, the Xenni ships were destroyed the instant the torch of exhaust played over their hulls. None survived to report the incident back to the Xenni Consortium.

I bet you thought I forgot about you! I'm still around, I'm still writing, though you'll probably see my stuff more on Royal Road or Reddit these days. I'll still post here when I can though. This is a major re-work of a very old story of mine, and I'm planning on expanding it out into a full length novel about first contact between the humans and k'laxi.

#writing #humans are deathworlders #humans are space orcs #sci fi writing #humans are space oddities #jpitha #humans and aliens #humans and ai

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mononijikayu · 1 year ago

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akuma no ko—ryomen sukuna.

Sukuna's gaze, once softened by shared memories and tender affection, now hardened into a steely resolve, the pain etched into the lines of his face transforming into something colder, more distant. His response, delivered with a quiet finality, cut through the air like a blade, severing the fragile threads that bound you together.

GENRE: Heian Era to Shibuya Arc, 2018;

WARNING/s: Alternate Universe ─ Canon Divergence, Romance, Emotional Hurt, Found Family, Hurt/Comfort, Heavy Angst, Heavy Pining, Domesticity, Friends to Lovers, Character Death, Grief, Miscarriage, Mention of Depression, Mention of Mourning, Depiction of Physical Touch, Depiction of Mental Anguish, Depiction of Violence, Depiction of Harm, Depiction of Blood and Wounds, Depiction of Miscarriage, Depiction of Death, Depiction of Harm, Pseudo-Incest, Adoptive Cousins, Portrayal of Misogynist And Degrading Acts and Language, Smut, Detailed Depiction of Sex, Depiction of Sexual Foreplay, Sexual Penetration, Consensual Sex;

masterlist

ashes of love

song: akuma no ko by ai higuchi

note: there is four chapters left to write for this. this is just??? i cant believe ive written it this long. but i already planned the ending. im very excited for you all to see the end of this story with me. thank you for all your love!!! gojo also making parts here and there with this story, but he has a lot of things to say about his ancestor~ anyway i'll see you in the next chapter~ i love you!!!

LIFE WAS FULL OF SURPRISES. Seven years had passed since the destruction of the Ryomen clan. The warm summer days passed wondrously, a stark contrast to the turbulent years of rebuilding and war. You sat in the middle of the gardens, watching children play, their laughter a soothing balm to your weary soul. You had not expected your life to take this turn, but you supposed you could claim to be satisfied.

The war had grown ever larger, engulfing most of the clans in a web of alliances and enmities. The Zenin and the Kamo sided with the Fujiwara, while the Inumaki, the Ryomen, and the Gojo aligned against them. The Ryomen were still in the process of rebuilding, gathering old followers and new. The Mikoto were now upheld as the most trusted vassals of the Ryomen, with Masaomi always shadowing you, more so now that you were participating in the conflicts personally, leading your sorcerers against the Fujiwara.

As you watched the children, a sense of bittersweet nostalgia washed over you. The gardens, once a place of tranquility and beauty, had become a rare sanctuary amidst the chaos of war. The sight of the children, carefree and oblivious to the burdens you carried, brought a fleeting smile to your lips. They represented the hope for a future you were fighting so hard to secure.

Masaomi approached silently, his presence a constant and reassuring one. He bowed slightly before speaking, his voice respectful and steady. "The preparations for the next mission are complete, Ryomen-sama. Your sorcerers are ready and awaiting your command."

You nodded, standing up and brushing the grass from your clothes. "Thank you, Masaomi. Let's not keep them waiting." As you walked towards the assembled sorcerers, your mind shifted from the peaceful garden to the battle ahead. Each step you took was a reminder of the responsibility you bore, not just for your clan, but for the future these children represented.

The sorcerers gathered, their faces a mix of determination and reverence. They looked to you for guidance, their leader in this relentless struggle. You addressed them with a calm authority, the weight of your words underscored by the years of hardship you had all endured together.

"Today, we fight not just for our clan, but for the future we wish to build. Our enemies may be strong, but our resolve is stronger. We will reclaim what was taken from us and ensure that our legacy endures."

As you led your sorcerers into battle, the memory of the gardens and the children remained a beacon of hope. The war might rage on, but you were determined to see it through to the end. For the Ryomen, for the future, and for the promise of peace that seemed just within reach.

It was Masaomi who had orchestrated the daring escape, leading you and his own clan to safety across the borders. There, the Gojo clan awaited, their formidable presence a beacon of hope in the turmoil. The Gojo had welcomed you and your followers with open arms, providing sanctuary and respite. Suzaku Gojo, the head of the clan, was particularly glad to keep you as his guest for as long as possible.

However, amidst the warmth and hospitality, there were growing concerns. You have become more valuable than ever before. As the clan leader of the Ryomen and, more critically, as a woman in a position of power, you were a target. Men from rival clans and ambitious factions would undoubtedly seek to use you, aiming to impregnate you to seize the power of the Ryomen through blood and prestige.

Suzaku was acutely aware of these dangers. In a private conversation, he expressed his concerns, his demeanor serious and protective. "You are a beacon of strength for your people. Your brother saw that too. But that also makes you a target. There will be those who seek to take advantage of your position and lineage."

You met his gaze, appreciating his candor. "I am aware of the risks, Suzaku. But I won't let fear dictate my actions."

He nodded, his expression softening slightly. "And you shouldn't have to. I promise you, nothing will happen to you here. The Gojo clan will protect you and your people. You have my word."

His assurance was comforting, but the reality of your situation remained ever-present in your mind. As you navigated the treacherous waters of clan politics and warfare, Suzaku's promise was a beacon of hope. The Gojo clan's support bolstered your resolve, and with Masaomi by your side, you felt prepared to face whatever challenges lay ahead.

In the days that followed, you found a semblance of peace within the Gojo estate. Suzaku's presence was a constant reassurance, his protective nature evident in the measures he took to ensure your safety. Yet, the specter of war loomed large, and you knew that the respite was only temporary.

The gardens of the Gojo estate became your sanctuary, a place where you could find solace and clarity. It was here, among the blooming flowers and serene pathways, that you gathered your thoughts and prepared for the battles ahead. The child's laughter, the warmth of the sun, and the unwavering support of your allies gave you the strength to continue.

The war was far from over, but with each passing day, you grew more determined. You would reclaim what was rightfully yours and build a future where the Ryomen clan could flourish. And in this journey, you knew you could count on Suzaku's promise and Masaomi's loyalty, guiding you through the darkness towards a brighter dawn.

A child runs towards you, snapping you out of your thoughts. The child's laughter fills the air, a sweet melody that brings a smile to your face. You run your hands through the child's hair, gazing down at him with your striking purple eyes. When he looks up at you, his eyes are revealed to be as blue as the sky.

"Mother," the child asks, his voice full of innocent curiosity, "when can I meet Father?"

You smile softly, a hint of sadness in your eyes. "I do not know, my love. Your father is still busy with his duties."

The child pouts, his tiny brows furrowing. "Do you not like your mother, little one?" you tease gently.

"I love you equally, Mother!" the child exclaims, his pout quickly turning into a bright smile.

You laugh, the sound light and full of affection. Just as you are about to reply, a servant approaches and bows respectfully.

"What is it?" you ask, your tone courteous yet curious.

"Lady Gojo, Lord Suzaku has arrived," the servant announces.

The child's face lights up with joy, and he jumps excitedly. "Father is home!"

You stand from your position, feeling a mix of relief and anticipation. "Thank you." you say to the servant, who nods and steps back.

Hand in hand with your son, you make your way towards the entrance of the estate. The warm summer breeze carries the scent of blooming flowers, and the sound of the child's laughter echoes through the gardens. Despite the turmoil and uncertainty of the world outside, this moment, with your son by your side and the promise of reunion with Suzaku, brings a sense of peace and hope.

Gojo Suzaku entered the room quietly, his presence as gentle as ever. His eyes softened as they met yours, a small smile playing on his lips. He approached you, his steps light and measured, and you could feel the warmth and care emanating from him. Ever since your marriage, Suzaku had always been kind, but there was a newfound gentleness in his demeanor, a tenderness that had grown even more profound after the birth of your children.

The soft glow of the lanterns bathed the room in a warm, golden hue as you sat by the window, gazing out at the serene garden. The blue hour was calm, and the air was filled with the subtle scent of blooming jasmine. The tranquil scene outside was a stark contrast to the turmoil you had recently faced in childbirth.

He approached you, his steps light and measured, and you could feel the warmth and care emanating from him. Ever since your marriage, Gojo Suzaku had always been kind, but there was a newfound gentleness in his demeanor, a tenderness that had grown even more profound after the birth of your children.

As Suzaku stepped further into the room, the door burst open, and a small whirlwind of energy bounded towards him. Seiryuu, your son, with his bright eyes and infectious laughter, leaped into Suzaku's arms with an exuberant shout.

"Father!" Seiryuu cried, wrapping his arms around Suzaku's neck.

Suzaku laughed, a deep, warm sound that filled the room. He lifted Seiryuu easily, holding him close. "Seiryuu, my boy! I've missed you."

Seiryuu's face was radiant with joy. "Did you bring me anything from your trip?"

Suzaku nodded, his smile widening. "Of course. But first, tell me, have you been helping your mother?"

Seiryuu nodded vigorously. "Yes, Father. I've been very good and training hard. I even practiced the new techniques you showed me!"

“And towards your sister?”

“I made sure to sing for her, father! Ma-chan adored my songs!” The boy beamed proudly.

Pride swelled in Suzaku's eyes as he glanced over at you. "That's my boy. I'm proud of you, Seiryuu."

Seiryuu beamed, his excitement barely contained. He wriggled in Suzaku's arms until he was set down, then rushed over to you, grabbing your hand. "Mother, come see what Father brought!"

Suzaku extended a hand to help you stand, his touch tender and supportive. Together, the three of you made your way to the lord's chambers. As you entered, everyone bowed lowly, reverence and respect evident in their gestures. You felt a mix of humility and pride wash over you. This was the acknowledgment that came with bringing the six-eyes into the world after a hundred years.

Suzaku led you to a comfortable seat, where you settled with Seiryuu by your side, his excitement palpable. Suzaku retrieved a beautifully wrapped package and handed it to Seiryuu.

"Go on, open it," Suzaku encouraged, his eyes sparkling.

Seiryuu tore into the wrapping with the eagerness of a child, revealing a finely crafted wooden sword and a small, intricate figurine of a dragon, its eyes resembling Seiryuu's own unique gaze.

"Wow!" Seiryuu exclaimed, holding up the gifts for you to see. "Look, Mother! It's amazing!"

You smiled, touched by Suzaku's thoughtfulness. "They are wonderful, Seiryuu. Your father always knows just what to bring."

Suzaku sat beside you, his arm around your shoulders. "I'm glad you like them, Seiryuu. They are to remind you of your heritage and your strength."

Seiryuu nodded solemnly, his young face filled with determination. "I'll make you both proud, I promise."

You placed a gentle kiss on Seiryuu's forehead, feeling a deep sense of contentment. "You already do, my love. Every day."

You smiled at Seiryuu, your heart swelling with pride at his enthusiasm and determination. For a moment, you savored the warmth of his presence, the bond between mother and son palpable in the air. Then, with a gentle pat on his shoulder, you parted from him and moved to position yourself comfortably, preparing to greet Suzaku as he entered the room.

As Suzaku stepped closer, you lowered yourself into a respectful bow, a gesture ingrained in the customs of your household. It was a sign of deference and respect, a recognition of Suzaku's position as both your husband and the lord of the land. But before you could complete the motion, Suzaku's hand was there, reaching out to help you up immediately.

You looked up, surprised by the sudden interruption, but the warmth in Suzaku's eyes melted away any hint of confusion. His touch was gentle yet firm as he lifted you upright, his expression filled with tenderness and care.

"None of that, my love," Suzaku said softly, his voice a soothing murmur. "You needn't bow to me. Not now, not ever."

His words were like a balm to your soul, easing any lingering tension and replacing it with a sense of profound gratitude. Suzaku had always treated you with kindness and respect, but in moments like these, his gestures spoke volumes of his love and admiration for you.

You smiled up at him, a softness in your gaze as you met his crimson eyes. "Thank you, Suzaku," you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper but filled with genuine appreciation.

Suzaku's smile widened, his hand still resting gently on yours as he leaned in to press a tender kiss to your forehead. "Always, my dear. Always."

You allowed Suzaku's hand to assist you, feeling the comforting warmth of his touch as he guided you towards the sitting mats. Seiryuu sat nearby, his vibrant blue eyes alive with curiosity, a nursemaid attending to him attentively. The sight of your son brought a tender smile to your lips, his innocence and joy a welcome respite from the weight of your responsibilities.

As you settled onto the mats, the soft cushions providing a sense of comfort beneath you, you couldn't help but feel the gravity of your position. The role of wife to the lord of the land came with its own set of expectations and duties, and in moments like these, it was impossible to ignore the weight of those responsibilities. But Suzaku's gentle touch on your arm served as a reminder of the unwavering support you had in him, a pillar of strength upon which you could always rely.

Seiryuu, now nestled securely in his father's arms, giggled and played, oblivious to the solemnity of the moment. His laughter filled the room, a joyful melody that lifted your spirits and brought a sense of lightness to the air. It was a reminder of the simple joys in life, the moments of happiness that made the burdens of leadership bearable.

As you watched Suzaku and Seiryuu interact, a sense of gratitude washed over you. Despite the challenges you faced, you were surrounded by love and support, both from your husband and your son. In their presence, you found strength and courage, knowing that together, you could weather any storm that came your way.

With a contented sigh, you leaned back against the cushions, allowing yourself to fully immerse in the moment of peace and tranquility. The weight of your position may have been heavy, but in this brief respite, surrounded by the ones you loved most, it felt as though the burden had been lifted, if only for a fleeting moment. And as you closed your eyes, basking in the warmth of your family's embrace, you couldn't help but feel grateful for the love that filled your life, making even the most daunting of challenges seem surmountable.

Suzaku smiles at you, his expression filled with pride and affection. "How have you been?" he asks, his concern genuine.

"I’ve been resting," you reply, a small smile playing on your lips. "Masako has been keeping me awake. I've been a bit sore since birth, but I have been well.”

Suzaku nods, his expression serious yet understanding. Your pregnancies have never been easy on you. "And how has your rest been? Are you feeling better?"

You nod. "Yes, much better. The gardens are peaceful, and Seiryuu keeps me company."

Suzaku glances at your son, his eyes softening. "He is a remarkable child. Tengen-sama was most amicable during my trip, happy to know that everyone was well."

"Tengen-sama is most interested in Seiryuu," you say, acknowledging the connection between your son's six-eyes and Tengen-sama's interest. "Seeing his progress, Tengen-sama wants to see more of Seiryuu's success."

Suzaku's expression is one of pride. "Seiryuu is extraordinary, just like his mother. Tengen-sama's interest is a testament to that, you know.”

You smile, feeling a sense of pride and warmth. "He is, indeed. And with your guidance, he will continue to thrive. He will be most worthy as your heir.”

Suzaku reaches out, taking your hand in his. "We will guide him together, as we always have. You are not alone in this."

As the laughter of Seiryuu filled the room, escaping the hands of his nurse-maid. Your husband’s expression sombered. Suzaku was good at keeping a poker face more often than you could say. Much more when you played a game with him. But his own eyes clouded with concern, with worry. Seiryuu rushed to his father’s arms, giggling as he laid there. Your husband smiled at his son, though his eyes remained firm in its worry. He gently shifted Seiryuu in his arms, his attention turning towards you as he prepared to share the weighty news. He turned to Seiryuu’s nurse and nodded at her.

Suzaku knelt down to his son's level, his voice gentle as he whispered, "You must go and wash up, little one." He leaned in to plant a soft kiss on the boy's snowy white hair, a tender smile curving his lips. "I'll come and read you a story after, hm?"

Seiryuu's face scrunched up in a pout, his blue eyes wide and pleading. "But I would like to have more time with you, father."

Suzaku's smile deepened, a hint of sadness in his eyes. "And you will," he promised, his fingers tenderly tracing through the boy's hair. "I just have some matters to finish first, hm? Now, kiss your mother goodbye."

The little boy hesitated, his gaze flickering between his parents. Finally, with a reluctant nod, he turned to you. "Goodbye, mother," he said, his voice small and earnest. He leaned in to give you a quick, affectionate kiss on the cheek, his warmth lingering.

You smiled, your heart swelling with love. "Goodbye, my little Seiryuu. Be good for your father, alright?"

Seiryuu nodded solemnly, his eyes glistening with the innocence and trust only a child could possess. He turned back to his father, who gave him a gentle nudge towards the door. As Seiryuu left the room, a soft murmur of footsteps echoed in the corridor, growing fainter with each step.

Suzaku straightened up, his expression shifting to one of seriousness. The tender moment with his son had been a brief respite from the weighty responsibilities that awaited him. He turned to you, his eyes searching yours for a moment of understanding.

"Actually, that's not why I was called to meet Tengen-sama," Suzaku began, his voice grave. "There has been a matter of great concern that Tengen–sama wished to discuss with me, one that concerns you."

You felt a chill run down your spine at the shift in Suzaku's tone. Something serious must have transpired for Tengen-sama to summon Suzaku in such urgency. Tengen–sama was kind, always making sure to treat you and your family well. But it was rare that Tengen–sama would say outright that they have a concern with you.

Suzaku continued, his words measured and deliberate. "Tengen-sama informed me of a series of disturbing events—a massive murder of the Kamo clan's subsequent minor blood relatives, followed by similar atrocities within the Zenin clan. These incidents bear a striking resemblance to the slayings found in prior raids, where the victims were already deceased.”

“How bad were these incidents?”

His silence was more than enough for you.

But you wanted him to say something to you.

To confirm the truth, with his own words to you.

“Beyond humane.” Suzaku says, his eyes lowering. You think he has seen things. Too many things. “They should not be for anyone’s eyes, wife.”

Silence fell over the room as Suzaku's words sank in. The implications were grave, and the weight of the revelation hung heavy in the air. And these killings were not just of regular human people. They were sorcerers. To the jujutsu world, the lives of sorcerers were more valuable than anything else. You remained silent for a moment, processing the information. He does not speak either. As though letting you comprehend this moment. You settle your shaking hand away into your sleeves before finally speaking up, your voice barely above a whisper.

"Is it him?" you asked, the words heavy with dread.

Suzaku met your gaze, his expression grim. He nodded solemnly. "It's him."

The realization sent a shiver down your spine. The perpetrator behind these brutal acts was no ordinary threat; it was someone with a deep-seated vendetta, someone capable of unspeakable atrocities. The safety and stability of your clan were now at stake, and the responsibility to protect your family weighed heavily on your shoulders.

Ryomen Sukuna has returned to the world.

But in what form, in what truth — you wondered.

What could have changed in these seven years?

YOU NEVER THOUGHT THIS COULD HAPPEN. The battle for Hida unfolded like a dark symphony, its crescendo building with each clash of swords and burst of magic. From the moment the first echo of cursed energy was thrown, it truly set loose to the final breaths of combatants in thunderous echoes, crescendo of souls burning through the worst of humanity. It was too much for you. You could feel the air crackled with tension, thick with the scent of sweat, blood, and burning earth.

As the chaos of battle raged around you, you stood firm, your resolve unyielding despite the recent trials of childbirth. With the flames of determination burning fiercely in your eyes, you fought alongside Suzaku, each movement fueled by an inner strength that refused to be extinguished.

Your blood mingled with the elemental forces at your command, conjuring white flames that danced and swirled around you, consuming your enemies with righteous fury. The air was thick with the sounds of war, the agonized cries of the wounded mingling with the clash of cursed energy, steel and the roar of flames.

The torrent of flames upon the land, the inferno roaring with an intensity that seemed to mirror the ferocity of your convictions. The gods were happy to see it, you think. Your sacrifice in blood, burnt underneath it all, white echo of cursed energy blended into bleeding hell fire. The gods find more souls in the hell that you created. The heat licked at your skin, searing the very air around you, as the sorcerers who dared to stand against you found themselves consumed by the flames they had invoked.

Amidst the tumultuous chaos of battle, the air was thick with the acrid scent of burning flesh. It lingered like a haunting specter, a grim reminder of the brutality and devastation wrought by the clash of opposing forces. Each gust of wind carried with it the stench of charred skin and singed hair, assaulting the senses and leaving an indelible mark on the memory of those who dared to tread the battlefield. Despite the horrors that surrounded them, sorcerers and warriors pressed on, driven by their unwavering resolve and the desperate hope of victory amidst the carnage.

Yet, you paid it no mind, your focus unwavering. This conflict had raged for far too long, and you were determined to see it through to its end. With gritted teeth and a steadfast gaze, you pressed forward, your determination unwavering. Though Suzaku had initially protested, he soon relented, acknowledging the indomitable fire burning within you that refused to be extinguished.

Beside you, Gojo Suzaku wielded his cursed whip with deadly precision, its dark tendrils lashing out like serpents, striking down any who dared to approach. Each crack of the whip echoed like thunder, a harbinger of doom for those foolish enough to stand in his path. His strong cursed energy pierces through over and over.

Mikoto Masaomi, a stalwart sentinel at your side, moved with the grace and precision of a seasoned warrior. His blade danced with deadly elegance, cutting through the enemy ranks with a fluidity that belied the chaos of battle. He yells, pushing the resistance forces forward. There would be no more surrender. Not anymore.

The forces of darkness threw everything they had into the fray, their desperation palpable in every incantation and strike. You hissed, kicking a sorcerer hard as you tried hard to maintain the flames of inferno. Masaomi screams, killing the sorcerer for you. Blood stains his face tenderly. You nodded at him as you still your breathing. You and your allies must come and stand firm. unyielding bastion against the tide of tyranny that sought to engulf Hida in shadow.

As the relentless battle unfolded, the ground beneath your feet transformed into a quagmire of blood and mud, each step fraught with the slippery remnants of fallen comrades and foes alike. Above, the once serene sky was now a tapestry of crimson hues, illuminated by the fiery infernos that ravaged the battlefield. Time seemed to stretch endlessly, each passing moment marked by the cacophony of clashing steel, the thunderous roars of magic, and the anguished cries of combatants locked in a struggle for survival. With every swing of your weapon and surge of power, you propelled yourself further into the heart of the fray, inching ever closer to the inevitable climax of the conflict.

But through it all, you fought on, drawing strength from the courage and camaraderie of those who stood beside you. For in this moment, amidst the chaos and carnage of battle, you knew that victory was not merely a possibility—it was a certainty. And with every fiber of your being, you pressed forward, until at last, the forces of darkness were vanquished, and Hida stood free once more, bathed in the light of a new dawn. You waited seven years.

Amidst the chaos of battle, a figure emerged from the swirling maelstrom of combat, a harbinger of death and destruction. It was your grandfather, Fijiwara Ankoku, a formidable warrior whose mere presence sent tremors of fear through the ranks of the Gojo forces. With a single-minded determination, he cut through all who dared to stand in his path, his eyes fixed unwaveringly on you, his target. As the clash of swords reverberated around you, Ankoku's voice cut through the din, dripping with malice and contempt.

"Pathetic. You think you can stand against me, little child? You're nothing but a weakling clinging to false hope." Ankoku laughed maniacally.

You gritted your teeth, your determination fueling your resolve to prove him wrong. "I may not have your strength, grandfather, but I fight for something greater than myself. I fight for the future of the Ryomen, and I won't let you destroy it."

Ankoku's laughter echoed across the battlefield, a sound as cold and heartless as the blade he wielded. "The future? Ha! You're delusional, child. The only future you have is one of suffering and despair."

You blocked his vicious strike with all your might, the clash of steel ringing in your ears. "You're wrong, grandfather. We will never surrender to tyranny. And neither will I."

Ankoku's eyes gleamed with cruel amusement as he pressed the attack, his movements swift and deadly. "Brave words, child. But words will not save you from the fate that awaits you at my hands."

As you fought tooth and nail against your grandfather, each strike and parry a testament to your unwavering determination, you knew that the battle was far from over. But with every fiber of your being, you refused to back down, for you knew that the fate of the future depended on your strength and resilience in the face of darkness.

Before he could reach you once more, however, a sudden and cataclysmic force swept through the battlefield, tearing through the ranks of the Fujiwara forces like a scythe through wheat. A shockwave rippled outward, engulfing Ankoku and almost all of the Fujiwara forces in its fiery embrace. The air crackled with searing heat, as though everything around you was being consumed by flames.

Screams echoed through the chaos, a chorus of agony that pierced the very soul. Masaomi, ever the steadfast protector, stood before you, his blade drawn and ready to defend. Suzaku, your husband, held you close, his arms a shield against the storm of violence that raged around you.

As the dust settled and the acrid scent of burning flesh hung heavy in the air, you dared to peek through the haze, your heart pounding in your chest. And there, amidst the devastation, stood a lone figure, bathed in the eerie glow of the battlefield. It was someone you knew all too well, someone whose very presence sent chills down your spine.

You hitched your breath, your eyes widening in recognition as you realized who had unleashed such devastation upon the battlefield. It was him—the one who wielded the power to rend reality itself, whose very existence threatened to tear apart the fabric of the world. And as you stood there, frozen in fear and awe, you knew that the true battle had only just begun. For now, faced with the wrath of a god, you could only hope to survive the coming storm.

Ryomen Sukuna had changed. His once familiar form now towered over you, his frame elongated and imposing. Two sets of red eyes gleamed beneath his own, casting an eerie glow in the darkness. And as if to accentuate his newfound power, two additional arms sprouted from his sides, a testament to the monstrous strength that now coursed through him.

You watched in horror as Sukuna strode forward, his footsteps leaving crimson ripples in the river of blood that flowed from his very being. The air crackled with an oppressive aura, heavy with the weight of his malevolence.

In a desperate bid to shield yourself from his gaze, you moved to stand in front of Suzaku, seeking refuge in his comforting presence. Tears streamed down your face, a silent testament to the fear and anguish that consumed you.

Suzaku met your gaze with a mixture of concern and determination, his crimson eyes blazing with a fierce resolve. Despite the danger that loomed before you, he remained steadfast at your side, a beacon of strength in the face of overwhelming darkness.

The two of you stood together, united in your defiance against the encroaching evil. And as Ryomen Sukuna drew nearer, his monstrous form casting a shadow over you both, you couldn't help but feel a sense of déjà vu—an eerie echo of the past, where fate had once torn you apart.

The demon bowed to his master.

Tears flowed from your eyes.

“I have returned to you, as promised.”

IT WAS QUITE SURPRISE. As Ryomen Sukuna reentered your life, a palpable tension hung heavy in the air, casting a shadow over the once serene halls of your ancestral home. Despite the dissolution of your marriage, the ties of blood and kinship still bound you to him, making him an inseparable part of the Ryomen clan's legacy. His presence stirred a mix of emotions among the clan members, ranging from curiosity to apprehension.

The grandeur of the clan, once illustrious and revered, now lay in ruins, its glory faded and its power diminished. Those who served the clan, once proud and loyal, now regarded Sukuna with wary eyes, their apprehension evident in their hesitant movements and whispered conversations. The air crackled with anticipation as the prodigal son returned, his every step echoing through the corridors like a harbinger of uncertainty.

Sitting across from each other in a modest chamber that had once been the heart of a thriving household, you and Sukuna attempted to catch up. The conversation was stilted, each word carefully chosen, the air thick with unspoken words and unresolved tension. The weight of your shared history hung heavily between you, a barrier neither of you seemed willing to breach just yet.

"You look well," Sukuna remarked, breaking the uneasy silence that had settled between you.

"Thank you," you replied, offering a polite nod. "And you, Sukuna? How have you been?"

Sukuna hesitated for a moment, his gaze flickering away before returning to meet yours. "Surviving." he answered cryptically. "Things have been... complicated."

"I understand, do not worry." you said softly, the understatement hanging in the air like a heavy fog. "It hasn't been easy for any of us."

A tense silence fell between you once more, punctuated only by the distant sounds of the household bustling outside. Each of you grappling with the weight of unspoken words and unresolved emotions, unsure of how to bridge the chasm that had grown between you over the years.

Sukuna's eyes, once filled with a ferocious intensity, now held a glimmer of something softer, almost vulnerable. He looked around the room, taking in the familiar yet changed surroundings, before his gaze settled on you. You, too, found it difficult to find the right words, memories of past conflicts and shared dreams flickering like shadows in the back of your mind.

For a moment, there was silence. You looked at Sukuna, your expression softening. "Thank you for returning, for coming back to me." you said, your voice sincere and filled with gratitude.

Sukuna met your gaze, his own expression serious. The usual bravado and arrogance were absent, replaced by a rare honesty. "I will always come back to you, you know that." he replied, his tone firm and resolute. "No matter what."

The declaration hung in the air, a promise that transcended the broken bonds of marriage, reaffirming the deeper connection that bound you both. Despite the awkwardness and the unspoken pain, there was a sense of comfort in knowing that, regardless of the circumstances, you would always be family. You will always know he was someone you loved.

You took a deep breath and led Sukuna into the main hall, where your children were waiting. Seiryuu, your eldest, stood with a confident stance, his eyes—a rare and powerful six-eyes—glinting with curiosity. You had told him stories about his lineage, but meeting Sukuna in person was a different experience altogether.

Sukuna’s gaze lingered on Seiryuu, a flicker of recognition passing over his features. “I can tell the boy already has power in him.” he remarked, his voice carrying a note of approval.

You nodded in agreement. “Yes, he does. He is quite an intelligent boy.”

Seiryuu looked up at Sukuna with wide blue eyes, filled with a mixture of curiosity and awe. “Who are you?” he asked, his tone innocent yet direct. Those eyes made Sukuna uncomfortable. “You’re tall. And your arms, and your eyes! You have four!”

You purse your lips. “Seiryuu.”

“It’s alright.” Sukuna tells you softly as he turns to the boy. “You’re quite curious aren’t you?”

Seiryuu grins at him. “I do! Father thinks so too.”

For a moment, Sukuna hesitated at the mention of Suzaku. He could feel his usual confidence giving way to an uncharacteristic uncertainty. Then he spoke, his voice gentle. “I am your uncle.”

Seiryuu’s face lit up with a bright smile. “I’ve never had an uncle before! Father never had other siblings! Are you my mother’s brother?”

“No, I am her cousin.” He responds.

“So you were great uncle Hisamu’s son?”

“Yes I was, boy.” A hint of sadness pierces at his reply.

Seiryuu's curiosity seemed to know no bounds as he bombarded Sukuna with questions about their family history, drawing out tales of their ancestors and the legacy they carried. Sukuna, despite his initial hesitation, found himself opening up, sharing stories of their lineage that had long been buried beneath layers of time and secrecy.

As the conversation flowed, Sukuna couldn't help but feel a sense of nostalgia creeping in. It had been so long since he had connected with someone from his past, someone who understood the weight of their shared heritage. Seiryuu's youthful enthusiasm was infectious, breathing life into memories Sukuna had long believed to be forgotten.

You smiled at their interaction, feeling a sense of warmth and hope. Turning to the lady servant who held your baby daughter, you gently took the child into your arms. As you cradled your daughter in your arms, a rush of tenderness enveloped you. Her tiny fingers grasped at the fabric of your dress, her innocent gaze fixed upon your face with unwavering trust. In her presence, the weight of the world seemed to lift, replaced by a profound sense of peace and joy.

“Is there another one to meet?” Sukuna turns as Seiryuu plays with one of his arms. You smiled at him as you nodded.

"She would like her uncle.” you said, walking closer to Sukuna with babe in hand. “This is my little one. Gojo Masako.”

Sukuna's gaze lingered on Masako, a tenderness softening his usually sharp features. "She takes after you, night flower." he murmured, his voice carrying a hint of wistful nostalgia. The endearment, once a whispered promise of affection, now echoed through the chamber, stirring memories long buried beneath the weight of time. “She’s truly beautiful.”

A pang of longing pierced your heart at his words, a bittersweet reminder of a love that had once blossomed between you. In that fleeting moment, the shadows of the past danced with the light of the present, weaving a tapestry of emotions that bound you and Sukuna together, forever intertwined in the threads of destiny.

"I know." you replied softly, your smile tinged with sadness as you cradled Masako against your chest. You look at her tenderly. “My adorable little one.”

“But mother, I am your adorable little one!” Seiryuu pouted in Sukuna’s arms. “Aren’t I?”

“Hm, you always will be.” You smiled at him. “But your sister is still a baby, hm? Give her a chance. A good adorable elder brother should love his adorable little sister.”

He pouts, nodding at you slowly. “Alright.”

The moment was poignant, a rare glimpse of peace amidst the turmoil that had defined your lives. Despite the complicated history and the lingering tension, this simple family introduction felt like a small step toward healing. Sukuna’s presence, while still tinged with the shadows of the past, also brought a sense of solidarity and a reminder of the bonds that could never truly be broken.

Sukuna's eyes softened as he looked at your children, a rare vulnerability crossing his usually stoic features. "They could have been ours, wouldn’t they?” he lamented, his voice tinged with a sadness that mirrored the longing in his eyes.

You smiled at him sadly, a melancholic understanding passing between you. "They would have had the happiest life together," you replied, your voice barely above a whisper.

For a moment, the two of you sat in silence, the weight of unspoken emotions hanging heavy in the air. Sukuna broke the silence first, his tone measured. "I'm happy you've found a life," he said, though his words lacked conviction.

You gave him a knowing look. "Be better at lying," you said softly.

He didn’t respond, the silence stretching between you once more, heavy and unresolved. After a moment, you decided to break it. "Where have you been all this time, Sukuna?" you asked, your voice filled with a mixture of curiosity and concern. "Does it involve massacre?"

Sukuna's lips curved into a familiar, unsettling smile. "I regret nothing." he said, his voice carrying a dark, unapologetic undertone.

You sighed, a mixture of resignation and sadness filling your heart. Despite the distance and the divergent paths your lives had taken, Sukuna was still a part of your world, a ghost from your past who refused to fade away.

The complexity of your relationship, filled with both love and regret, was a testament to the depth of the bond you once shared. In that moment, surrounded by the reminders of what could have been and the reality of what was, you found a fragile, tenuous connection that, while fraught with pain, was still unbreakable.

In the quiet aftermath of Seiryuu's departure, a palpable tension lingered between you and Sukuna, a silent acknowledgment of the complexities that defined your shared history. As Seiryuu reluctantly departed for his lessons, his parting tantrum echoing faintly in the air, Sukuna's gentle assurance carried a weight of its own—a promise of presence amidst the lingering uncertainty that surrounded your family.

"I'll be here and play with you when you finish, boy." Sukuna's words were imbued with sincerity, a genuine pledge to honor Seiryuu's desire for companionship despite the constraints of their circumstances.

Seiryuu's pout softened, replaced by a hesitant smile as he sought reassurance from his uncle. "Do you promise, uncle?"

Sukuna's smile widened, his eyes softening with affection as he met Seiryuu's gaze. "I do." he affirmed, his voice carrying the weight of a solemn vow.

Silence echoes through your chambers.

You looked at Sukuna, he looked back at you.

He smiles towards you, like he did years ago.

With a gentle nod, Sukuna rose from his seat, a sense of resolve in his demeanor. "I should take my leave." he said, his voice tinged with a mixture of regret and acceptance. One of his palms rests on your face. You lean against his palm, taking a deep breath. "But know that I am always here, should you ever need me. Just call on me.”

You met his gaze, a flicker of gratitude shining in your eyes. "Thank you, my love." you whispered, your voice carrying the weight of unspoken emotions. "For returning to me.”

With a final glance at Masako cradled in your arms, Ryomen Sukuna turned to leave, his steps echoing softly against the chamber floor. As the door closed behind him, you were left with a sense of closure, a faint glimmer of hope stirring within your heart.

Within the walls of the manor, an uneasy atmosphere lingered, thick with tension and veiled hostility. Sukuna, an outsider in this realm of familial politics, bore the burden of suspicion with an air of stoic acceptance. Despite the sidelong glances and murmured asides that shadowed his presence, he maintained an outward facade of calm resolve.

To Sukuna, the Gojo clan held little significance compared to the ancient lineage of the Ryomen. In his eyes, they were newcomers, lacking the weight of history and tradition that defined his own heritage. He refused to yield to those he deemed beneath him, his pride and arrogance serving as an impenetrable shield against the subtle machinations of those who sought to undermine him.

As the insolent behavior of one of the Gojo servants grated against the already strained atmosphere, Sukuna felt the urge to unleash his wrath upon her. The impulse to tear her limb from limb coursed through his veins like a torrential storm, fueled by her audacious disrespect. In his mind, she was nothing more than an insignificant nuisance, unworthy of even a moment's consideration. Surely, no one would mourn her absence if she were to disappear.

However, Sukuna's gaze lingered upon her with a magnetic intensity, drawing Suzaku's attention like a moth to a flame. With a voice as sharp as a whip crack, he addressed the servant's misconduct with unwavering severity, his words laced with authority and reproach, cutting through the air like a blade.

In his reprimand, Suzaku's tone held an unwavering firmness, cutting through the tense atmosphere like a blade. "Sukuna-dono is still a relative of my lady wife," he stated sternly, his words carrying the weight of authority. "I expect you to treat him with the respect he deserves. Or else, I will not be lenient."

There was no room for negotiation in his command, the seriousness of his tone leaving no doubt as to the consequences of disobedience. The servant’s eyes were wide, terrified as she bowed deeply, murmuring apologies before scurrying away. Once alone, Suzaku and Sukuna found themselves discussing the ongoing war and, inevitably, the topic turned to you.

The servant, visibly cowed by Suzaku's admonition, offered a hasty apology before retreating, leaving behind a palpable sense of discomfort in their wake. Sukuna's reaction, though subdued, betrayed a flicker of irritation in his steely gaze, a silent acknowledgment of the constant scrutiny and hostility he endured within the confines of the manor walls.

"It seems our time here has become increasingly difficult," Suzaku remarked, his voice tinged with regret. "But rest assured, Sukuna-dono, that you have my support. I will not allow any disrespect towards you, regardless of the circumstances."

He snickered. “Your servants are disobedient. If they were Ryomen servants, they would have been punished severely.”

“Too bad they are Gojo servants, Sukuna–dono.” Suzaku's lips twitch into a small wry smile.

Sukuna's lips curled into a smirk at Suzaku's response, a glint of amusement dancing in his eyes. "Indeed." he replied, his tone tinged with sardonic humor. "But even Gojo servants must learn to respect their superiors. I will ensure they understand that."

Suzaku inclined his head in agreement, his expression reflecting a mixture of approval and anticipation. "Your authority is unquestionable, Sukuna-dono, of course." he acknowledged, a subtle nod of respect accompanying his words. "But I have doubts they will heed your words. You are not a Gojo."

“I do not want to be a Gojo.”

“That is quite clear to see, yes.”

Silence engulfs the two men.

Sukuna shifts his haori to the side.

Suzaku shrugged as he looked away.

"When did you two wed?" Sukuna asked, his tone casual but his red eyes sharp.

"Shortly after you left," Suzaku replied evenly as Sukuna watched him. "To protect her from being taken by the other clans. They would have sought to use her for their own gain. It was the only way.”

Sukuna's lips curled into a mocking smile. "And do you care for her, Suzaku? Or is it just the six-eyes that bind you to her? I’d like to have a good response.”

Suzaku's expression remained calm, but there was a steel in his eyes. "I have great fondness for her, as I always have. I may even love her."

"May even love her?" Sukuna scoffed, his voice dripping with derision."You should have a more definite answer to me, the man who loves your wife the most. Speaking about love with such uncertainty makes me think you only care that she gave you a six-eyes boy.”

Suzaku met Sukuna’s gaze steadily. "You may think what you want, but I will not debate my love for her. It is what it is, and nothing you say will change that."

The tension in the room seemed to thicken as Sukuna's eyes narrowed, a glint of something unreadable passing through them like a fleeting shadow. The air crackled with unspoken words, each man standing firm in the silent confrontation. Time seemed to slow as they locked gazes, a silent battle of wills unfolding in the space between them. Then, just as abruptly as it began, Sukuna broke the gaze, his expression shifting into a bitter smile tinged with resignation. The weight of their shared history hung heavy in the air, a silent reminder of the complexities that bound them together despite their differences.

"Well," he said, his voice softer but still edged with sarcasm, "let's hope your love is enough to protect her from what's to come."

Suzaku nodded, his resolve unshaken. "I will protect her with everything I have. That is my vow."

Sukuna remained silent, his thoughts veiled behind a mask of indifference, but beneath the surface, a begrudging admiration stirred within him. Despite the tension between them, he couldn't help but acknowledge Suzaku's unwavering determination and strength of character. It was a quality Sukuna had always respected, even amidst their differences and conflicts. Though he may never admit it aloud, a part of him grudgingly admired the steadfastness with which Suzaku stood by his convictions.

Ryomen Sukuna had made up his mind.

You would always be in good hands, he thinks.

You could live life without him now, he knew.

But he thinks he needs time, he needs a moment.

He needs to accept that he has lost you forever.

IT WASN’T AN EASY DECISION. Sukuna grappled with a profound sense of displacement, feeling like a relic of a bygone era in a world that had moved on without him. Despite his enduring love for you, it was tainted by the melancholy realization that he no longer belonged in the life you had forged. Part of him yearned to whisk you away, to selfishly claim you as his own and shield you from the complexities of the world.

Yet, he harbored an innate understanding that such a course of action was untenable. Deep down, Sukuna recognized the inherent impossibility of uprooting you from the existence you had painstakingly crafted, even if it meant sacrificing his own desires for the sake of your happiness.

In the quiet embrace of the night, you and Sukuna clandestinely convened in the secluded sanctuary of the Gojo manor gardens, cloaked in the silvery luminescence of the moon. Its soft beams illuminated the delicate petals of blooming flowers, lending an otherworldly quality to the serene ambiance. The fragrance of blossoms perfumed the air, intermingling with the faint rustle of leaves stirred by the gentle breeze. Each element conspired to create a tranquil tableau, a poetic setting befitting the gravity of the emotions that hung palpably between you and Sukuna.

In the solemn intimacy of the moonlit garden, Sukuna's declaration hung heavily in the air, his words carrying the weight of both resignation and resolve. His voice, a subdued murmur amidst the tranquil night, echoed with the ache of longing and the burden of acceptance.

Your gaze, brimming with a tumult of emotions, sought solace in the contours of his face, a canvas etched with the scars of time and distance. Hurt and determination intermingled in the depths of your eyes, reflecting the depths of your heart's turmoil.

"Sukuna, you can't leave me again," you implored, your words a fervent plea that resonated with the echoes of past separation. "Not after we've endured the agony of being apart for so long."

His sigh, a weary exhale that seemed to carry the weight of the world, was accompanied by a downward cast of his eyes, a gesture of resignation that mirrored the heaviness in his soul. "You have a life here, a family," he murmured, his voice tinged with a melancholic realization. "I don't belong in this world anymore."

"You are my family," you countered, your voice a steadfast declaration that cut through the night's stillness. "We may no longer be lovers, but we could still be a family again. Together, we can navigate this world, find our place amidst the chaos and uncertainty."

Sukuna's expression hardened, a flicker of pain crossing his eyes. "I can't consider Gojo my family. Not in my entire life. You are my only family. And I can't have you as such. I can't be with you. Not anymore.”

You stepped closer, desperation in your voice. You knew he was right. But you didn’t want him to be right. You didn’t want him to leave you. Not again. "We don't have to be lovers, Sukuna. Just stay. We can find a way to make this work. You are my only family left, we are the last of the Ryomen. Herons….”

“Herons cannot exist without the other.” He completes for you, your eyes widened. “But you cannot be a heron with a monstrosity. Not ever.”

“You are not a monster to me.” You insisted on him, your hand taking his massive palm. You pursed his lips. “You are Sukuna. My Sukuna.”

He shook his head, a bitter smile playing on his lips. "I want to take you away, to be selfish and keep you all to myself. But you have responsibilities, people who depend on you."

"And you think I don't need you?" you asked, your voice trembling with emotion. "I have always needed you, Sukuna. Your presence in my life matters more than you know."

Sukuna looked away, his hands clenched into fists at his sides. "I love you," he whispered, the words heavy with regret. "But I don't belong here. Not in this world, not in this life you've built."

Tears welled up in your eyes as you reached out, taking his hand in yours. "Please, don't go. We can figure this out together."

For a moment, Sukuna allowed himself to feel the warmth of your touch, the connection that had always been there between you. But he knew he couldn't stay. Not without causing more pain.

"I will always come back to you," he said softly, his voice breaking. "But for now, I have to leave."

“You do not have to leave—”

Sukuna's piercing red eyes burned with intensity as he spoke, revealing the depth of his distrust. "I know the Gojo elders are displeased with how much of their resources are being spent trying to retake Ryomen land. They see no benefit in it. I fear there will be a betrayal."

You listened, your heart heavy with the weight of his words. "What are you saying, Sukuna? You think that our most trusted friends—”

He stops her with a glare. “They are not friends.”

“They have helped us, Sukuna. In our hour of need!”

“I cannot trust them. Not now. Not ever.”

You felt your throat dry as you stared at him, as though frightened of him. “What do you want me to do?”

"I'm saying you need to come with me," he insisted, his voice urgent. "Leave this place before it's too late."

You shook your head, tears already welling in your eyes. "Sukuna….you knew this was….I can't leave, not without my children. And my children will not leave without their father."

Sukuna's expression softened for a moment, a flicker of pain crossing his eyes. "Was there ever a chance? When I came back, did you ever consider choosing me?"

You looked at him, your voice trembling. "I chose you, Sukuna. I always chose you."

"But never when it comes to your children, or this life you've built," he countered, his voice growing harsher. "You never chose me over them."

"Don't make me choose," you pleaded, tears streaming down your face. "Please, Sukuna, don't make me choose."

He looked at you, the pain in his eyes mirrored your own. "It's me or this life," he said, his voice breaking. "Choose. You must.”

You burst into tears, your heart shattering as you realized the impossible decision you were being forced to make. Sukuna watched, his face a mask of sorrow and resignation. He knew your choice before you even spoke it. You cannot expect to leave with a monster, and not expect to be one too. But you won’t be herons. Not anymore. Never again. You swallowed the bile down your throat.

As the weight of your sorrow enveloped you, your words emerged in hushed whispers, each syllable laden with the heavy burden of remorse. Tears welled in your eyes, tracing silent paths down your cheeks, as you struggled to articulate the depths of your regret.

"Goodbye, night flower," he uttered softly, his voice a poignant echo of the intimacy you once shared. With those words, he turned away from you, each movement a silent proclamation of the irrevocable distance that now lay between you. "From now on, we are strangers."

In that fleeting moment, amidst the whispered apologies and the weight of unspoken regrets, the ties that had once bound your souls together unraveled, leaving behind only the echoes of what once was, and the poignant ache of what could have been.

You watched him leave, your heart breaking with every step he took. The night seemed to close in around you, the silence deafening in its finality. As you stood there, feeling the weight of your choice, you knew that a part of you had left with him.

The news of the main branch of the Fujiwara being eradicated struck the Gojo manor like a thunderclap, reverberating through the halls with an ominous intensity. Whispers of disbelief and fear echoed off the walls, mingling with the palpable tension that hung heavy in the air like a suffocating fog.

In the wake of the sudden and brutal attack, the once bustling manor now stood cloaked in a veil of uncertainty and dread. Servants moved about with hurried steps, their expressions etched with worry as they exchanged anxious glances, grappling to comprehend the magnitude of the devastation that had befallen their esteemed counterparts.

Within the confines of the manor's walls, the atmosphere crackled with unease, each passing moment fraught with a sense of impending doom. As the hours stretched on, the collective sense of foreboding cast a shadow over the once tranquil abode, leaving its inhabitants on edge and trembling in the wake of an uncertain future.

You knew, deep down, that this was Sukuna's doing. A final act of defiance, a way to strike back at the world that had taken so much from him. As you held your children close, the weight of your choice pressed down on you, a constant reminder of the love and sacrifice that had defined your life.

Even with tears in your eyes, you still were still spring. Yet he would never be able to put it into words. Even if these words could be translated to life, they would never capture the true meaning and wouldn't be conveyed: I'll still love you in every cruel world. you sobbed. and he walked away, a child of evil, tearing you apart whole.

You sobbed for days alone in your chambers.

In the next years of your life, you were miserable.

The return of the Ryomen was a truly lonely life.

Herons would never end up lasting together forever.

You stand alone, yearning for the life that could never be.

facts about the chapter

writing this chapter, i looked at the family tree that i made and thought it was okay to reveal now but i realized that there's still some spoilers about it.

seiryuu's name is spelled as 聖琉 - 聖 means holy or sacred. 琉 means gemstone or precious stone. hiromi chose the name, the characters were chosen by suzaku. his name is sacred gemstone.

masako's name is spelled as 万咲子 - 万 means ten thousand. 咲 means blossom or flourish and 子 means child or small thing. hiromi chose the name and spelling. her name means a child of ten thousand blossoms.

hiromi at this point would be 30 or 31. sukuna is 27 or 28. seiryuu was born 2 years after the war (5 years old), masako was born a few months into year 7 of time skip (3 months old).

hiromi and suzaku are very amicable. but hiromi does not love suzaku in the way she loves sukuna. suzaku however is different.

sukuna occupies some part of hida and builds his own shrine. sukuna was very popular in hida according to some legends and ended up being some sort of protector.

hiromi stays in hida as well, but in ryomen manor - which is a bit further than where sukuna is at. wives often stayed in their own home rather than stay with their husbands. but hiromi often returns to the gojo manor.

as mentioned in the manga, tengen is very connected to the six-eyes. so it was fair to mention how interested tengen is with the six-eyes holder of the heian, seiryuu.

sukuna has fully developed malevolent shrine by this point. but he really had no reason to use it that much, as its rare to have someone as good as him in using jujutsu.

sukuna wiped out multiple bloodlines of the fujiwara, including koku's own bloodline but he hasn't really completely done so as they had managed to escape and mingle with their allies.

seiryuu starts to get headaches for his jujutsu a year after this, because his powers manifested fully. he also has the limitless, which made it worse. he starts having to cover his eyes with special bandages his mother blessed for him.

gojo satoru likes seiryuu as an ancestor a lot, because he wrote a lot of his experiences with limitless and six-eyes - most which satoru understood. a lot of the materials satoru used in his childhood was seiryuu's diaries.

the next chapter is set at least ten or fifteen years in the future.

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kivaember · 1 year ago

Note

re: drabbles: i would be interested to see any kind of take on what life in the PCA is like; the EKDROMOI and HC/LC-HM duos in particular always seemed like funny Just Guys Being Dudes dynamics

OH I LOVE IDEAS LIKE THESE... i ended up just going on a ramble dear god... uh i hope you enjoy! a bit of worldbuilding for PCA and RLF (with a surprise Flatwell mention!)

Thanks for the prompt!

When Erik had been handed his posting for Rubicon-3 (or "ISB2262" as most within the UEG knew it), his first dismayed thought had been: i've hit a dead-end in my career.

See, the PCA were not viewed favourably within the UEG's pilot corps for a multitude of reasons, ranging from their infamous reputation as "space cops" to the fact that their direct chain of command was an actual, literal AI called The System, and whom many within the PCA spoke of as if she was their divine god that had descended from heaven itself to guide them.

Also, there were no glorious battles with the PCA, no chances for winning spoils of war during inter-corporate conflicts or achieving swift promotions by looking good at the right moment. All you did in the PCA was sit on some quarantined rock - normally out in the middle of bumfuck nowhere - and weren't allowed to take souviners or salvage anything profitable from the surface. It was basically guard duty but for years.

At least with guard duty on solar colonies you had some form of civilisation to visit. On Rubicon-3? Civilisation had been razed into nothing but ashes after that catastrophic industrial accident almost fifty years ago, and the remanents were just a ragtag group of stubborn colonists who refused to relocate because this is our home! Nevermind that their home was basically a hole in the ground full of contaminated soil.

Needless to say, Erik's expectations had been low when he reported to the PCA's main base on Rubicon-3. The planet had looked ugly when he came in, the atmosphere riddled with enough chunked up asteroids to make navigating the mess an absolute nightmare for the autopilot and what little surface he glimpsed looking grey and lifeless. The oceans looked good, at least, but Erik didn't have gills, and he doubted he'd be spending any time on their blasted-out beach resorts.

His expectations had been this: he'll sit in whatever passed as their guard room watching the live feed from their defence satellites, bored out of his mind except for moments of fleeting excitement when some wildcat miner came barrelling towards the planet in delusional hopes of striking it big with a Coral deposit. The nights would be long, the days even longer, and he'll be cold, miserable and wondering when he'd be posted out so his career could start again.

Instead, reality had been this: piloting the most advanced MT he'd ever sat in, wielding the most powerful weapons he'd ever laid hands on... yet trapped in an endless struggle against ye olde BASHO ACs on a near regular basis like he was in Hell and this was the ordeal he was condemned to endure for the rest of his afterlife.

The Rubiconian Liberation Front. Erik had heard of them back on Earth when he was in the UEG's main pilot corps, but no one had thought them as any serious threat. Just a group of colonists who had hijacked a construction MT or two and occasionally threw rocks through the PCA's figurative windows. They weren't a real threat. They were just civilians with guns. They'd be scared off easily just by shooting a few warning shots their way.

Wrong.

They were like rabid racoons that refused to leave the PCA's dumpsters. Almost every night, Erik and his squad would be crashed out when the perimetres alarms would trip, and almost every night he'd be chasing after RLF ACs and MTs running off with whatever the hell they could carry. Telephone poles. Copper wires. Vehicles like jeeps or vans. One of them had ran off with a fucking HVAC system once and to date Erik was still baffled about that.

But that wasn't the worst part. The worst part was him.

Middle fucking Flatwell.

The RLF leadership was a bit strange, but every PCA pilot knew of Flatwell. He was a Gen Three and had been part of the Rubiconian militia as a qualified, albeit green, AC pilot when the Fires had hit Rubicon. Guy was likely pushing seventy and still piloted rings around the PCA like he was bioengineered in some fucking lab somewhere to be the bane of their existence.

The System - their chain of command, their AI - knew everything it could dig up about Flatwell. His AC schematics, his habits, his history, his fighting profile and even including some interesting yet bizarre factoids like 'has a legitimate Earth citizenship due to successful seduction of a high-ranking Arquebus executive' and 'suspected illicit affair with an intelligence officer within Arquebus HQ', which meant not only was Flatwell a demon in the AC, he was a demon under the sheets too, forbidden knowledge that Erik could've gone without knowing.

But forbidden knowledge or not, the simple fact was: Flatwell was a damn good pilot, and most of the PCA pilots were just average.

In high-tech MTs and using even higher tech weaponry, sure, but still average. But, when Erik had been new to the post, had been dazzled by these amazing MTs and beautiful plasma weapons, he'd charged headfirst into a fight against Flatwell without hesitation, ignoring The System's soft bleat for him to use caution.

Needless to say, Erik had totalled that shiny MT and ended up ejecting before even a full thirty seconds had passed. Guy was fast.

Fortunately, however, the PCA were a lot more forgiving when it came to totalled MTs. Back in the UEG that would've come straight out of Erik's paycheck, as all repair bills did (he was still paying off his previous repairs... just thirty more years and he'd be debt free!) - but the PCA had brushed it off. Turned out they had a pretty sweet fabrication system and could churn out MTs in the hundreds within hours. Where they got the raw materials for that, Erik wasn't so sure... but the PCA were a branch of the UEG, so it was probably legitimate and not at all illegal or suspicious.

(One of the first rules you learn in the PCA: do not think too deeply about how it functions for legal reasons)

But, while the posting was leagues more exciting than he had initially believed, and incredibly more dangerous, his initial dismayed thought still held true: it was a career killer, because here was another, hidden rule he hadn't known until his boots were firmly on Rubicon-3 and his transporter was flying away from the planet:

Once you're on Rubicon-3, you die on Rubicon-3. No transfers, to retiring, no early-release. The PCA's mission was lifelong and no amount of bellyaching or protesting wold change that. Erik had been sprinted through the five stages of grief before he accepted his grim fate.

Maybe he had died on the way here, he had thought. Maybe this was his punishment for contributing directly to the voracious war machine that was the UEG... how many unionised workers had he killed over the years? How many colonies had he visited to stomp down on burgeoning independent movements so corporations didn't lose a source of revenue? How many had he stomped down on, just for his own continued comfort within the callous galaxy that humanity had made for itself?

Rubicon. It really made you think about these things. Erik slowly began to understand why the PCA's relationship with the RLF was how it was. Yeah, they crashed out every night, and yeah, sometimes Flatwell was there waiting for them, but most times...

Erik would crash out with his squad and only chase the thieving RLF a few miles before breaking off pursuit. He told himself there was no point. What they stole could easily be replaced within a few days. It wasn't as if they were stealing weapons or whatever. If they wanted a fucking HVAC system or a bunch of telecommunication wiring that badly, then they could have it. No skin of Erik's nose, and the PCA didn't bill him for failure to retrieve stolen goods.

He didn't sympathise with them, and the RLF certainly didn't sympathise with the PCA. They killed a lot of each other over the years Erik had been posted here, and Flatwell was particularly merciless. But.

They were both stuck on this planet, either willfully or not. They were both on Rubicon-3 for the long haul, and one way or another, they were gonna share the same fate: they were going to die here, eventually.

They were never going to leave this razed shithole.

#armored core #armored core 6 #fanfic #middle flatwell #some worldbuilding stuff with pca and rubicon #thank you for the prompt!#it was very fun :)

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dalekofchaos · 1 year ago

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Fixing the Geth-Quarian War in ME3

I've was admired how fleshed out were the Geth in ME2, with Legion being a "diplomatic platform" for the Geth Consensus, showing us that the Geth were not all evil.

They didn't want to be like humans, they were happy just being all together, with building a dyson sphere where every geth would be uploaded into, so no Geth would be alone.

Also they rejected the Reapers (Old Machines) help to achieve their goal, believing that they would be blinded to other paths if they accepted the Reaper's offer.

A part of them accepted the Reapers' help due of "mathematic variable", they allowed their own people to leave them to serve the Reapers, and were not expecting that the "Heretics" were planning to unleash a virus on them to make them worship the Reapers too.

Then in ME3, Legion accepts the Reaper code "upgrade" that makes the Geth individual AI, but that's not what they were after, suddenly wanting to become like organics, when Legion told us that the Geth hated the concept of organic individuality.

Legion's quote when I destroyed the Collector Base cemented my respect for the True Geth.

"An interesting choice, Shepard-Commander. Your species was offered everything the Geth aspire to, true unity and understanding in transcendence. You rejected it, you even refused the possibility of using the Old Machines' to achieve on your species' own terms. You are more like us than we thought".

I am aware that the real reason for this change is due of change of writers, when Chris L'Etoile wrote Legion and the Geth in ME1-ME2 and was no longer in Bioware in ME3. For me, Legion is the Geth in ME2, in ME3 is not Legion.

This coincidentally with the Quarians de-humanized and portrayed like complete monsters with the Geth as innocent, with the favourable points for the Quarians reduced drastically if not removed. For example: Han' Gerrel: In ME2 he was very friendly with Tali and Shepard, and didn't even want to put Tali on trial, he was sympathetic with them, but disliked the Geth. Suddenly in ME3 he's portrayed like a dumb warmongering idiot that shoots the Geth dreadnought where Shepard and Tali are on, risking their lives "for a perfect target". Also we are given the option to punch him, but no option to confront Legion about the Reaper code BS.

Kal'Reegar: A badass quarian marine that isn't afraid to defend Tali in front of the Admiral board if it means to save her. In ME3, he was conveniently killed off in a mail.

"Damn straight! Tali's done more for this fleet than you assholes ever will! You're pissing on everything I fought for! Everything Tali fought for! So, if you decide to exile her... you may as well do the same to me."

Originally he was supposed to be appearing on the mission on Rannoch, instead of the Geth conseus, leading a Quarian specialist team known as "Fire Time Taurash", happy to see Shepard again. Replaced by a mission that sympathizes for the Geth.

The only Quarians that are left and are likeable are Tali and Raan, where Koris the admiral that in ME2 costantly pissed on Tali and her father, is now portrayed like a savior and the only good guy.

The Quarians were de-humanized to make the player see the Geth as good and Quarians as bad.

How I would have done Rannoch arc

Legion: He appears asking help to Commander Shepard, isolated from the Consensus to free his people from Reaper control, that would use them as slaves to wipe out the Quarians.

Tali:If was pardoned, she appears as one of the Admirals trying to advocate for peace, if exiled, she appears alongside Legion to ask Shepard to help them to prevent the Geth from killing the Quarians.

Geth: Under reaper control the Geth are forced to amass an army that the Reapers want to use to help them exterminate the Quarians and the rest of life after, to ensure compliance, the reapers used a virus that has an effect similar to indoctrination for synthetics, but can be reversed and use a research on that Virus to make the Geth immune to Reaper hacking.

Quarians: The quarians are now looking for a planet to host their refugees and non combatants, as the Reapers attack, they need a planet closest to their physiology to minimize risk for them, Rannoch.

Quarian admiralty: Han Gerrel wants to push for war and claim their homeworld with brute force, but understands that attacking a Reaper and a full Geth army will tear apart. Zaal' Koris asks for a way to free the Geth from the Reapers to turn them in allies. Daro' Xen instead suggests exploiting the Reapers' hold on the Geth and reprogram the Virus to make them their slaves.

The mission arc would be trying to be helping Legion and the Quarians research the Reaper Virus, that would have three possible choices:

Neutralize the Virus, to prevent the Reapers from taking control of the Geth Consensus, Geth and Quarians join as war assets, requires Tali and Legion alive, Legion and Tali join as permanent squadmates.

2)Use the Virus to shut down the Geth, all Geth shutdown, and all their servers destroyed, the Geth are wiped out, and the Quarians join as war assets.

3)Exploit the Virus, Admiral Xen's plan with help from Rael's research and potentially from Project Overlord's data to make the Geth slaves to the Quarians again, both join as war assets, but Legion shuts down.

In any case, the Geth follow their old philosophy

Something else I would add. Kal'Reegar as a squad member.

part of me wishes Reegar could've been recruitable. Maybe it's like a KOTOR 2 situation where if we chose a male exile, then we get the Handmaiden. If we chose female exile, then we get the Disciple. If we chose Male Shepard, then Reeger is just a war asset. If we chose femshep, then Tali stays with the Admiralty board and becomes a war asset while Tali recommends Reegar to join the Normandy.

I'd also like to add possible romances after the direction of the war.

If you romance Tali in ME2, Tali is yours.

If you didn't romance Tali and Legion lives, then you can point them in the right direction like you do with Gabby and Ken

If you didn't romance Tali and Reegar lived, then Tali and Reeger get together

If you didn't romance Tali and Reegar and Legion are dead, then Tali and Garrus get together

If you're a Femshep and you can romance Reegar.

#Mass Effect #Mass Effect 3 #Tali'Zorah nar Rayya #Tali'Zorah Vas Normandy #Tali'Zorah #Femshep #Commander Shepard #Kal'Reegar #Legion #Mass Effect Legion #Shali #Han Gerrel #Zaal' Koris #Daro' Xen

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aleksatia · 5 months ago

Text

Feral Ties: Chapter 1

Image is AI (obviously), as I have no idea how to draw. Just first attempt to start publishing in English, CoD and Omegaverse. As I am not a native speaker, would appreciate any feedback.

Chapter 1

Simon "Ghost" Riley was not a man given to sentiment. If anyone had dared say otherwise, he’d have laughed—short, sharp, laced with contempt. A soldier had no use for tenderness, just as a blade had no use for mercy. He was made for something else. War. Blood. Killing.

Feelings were dead weight. Emotions? A liability. Attachments? A snare for the weak, for those too blind or too foolish to see the teeth waiting beneath. And Ghost was no fool.

He was a ghost.

Omegas. Alphas. Betas. The words meant nothing to him, nothing beyond the useless classifications people clung to in their need for order, for certainty. He required neither. He knew exactly who he was. He did not live by instincts but by war. Power wasn’t about scent or submission—it was about steel, precision, and the ability to outlast everyone else.

He refused to play their game. The hierarchy, the rules, the primitive instincts that decided who knelt and who commanded—it was all bullshit. Biology had no place in war. And war was all that mattered.

But duty… Duty was different. It was real. He understood it, relied on it. It was the only thing that had ever made sense.

And if duty required him to help an Omega endure the torment of her own body, then so be it. A transaction. Nothing more. No emotions. No attachments. No illusions.

And yet, they always tried.

Wide eyes. Trembling fingers. Voices dipped in honey, weaving the same tired traps of softness and submission. Some came with naive hope, others with the cunning of snakes, but in the end, it didn’t matter. Ghost never got caught.

Until today.

Emily Lamar was different.

She didn’t plead. Didn’t coax. Her scent wasn’t overpowering or demanding—it was subtle, like a whisper. Promised. A quiet, steady warmth he’d never known, never thought to crave.

That made her dangerous.

And now, she was tied to him.

His knot had locked them together, leaving no room for movement or escape. He hated this part the most. The false closeness. The illusion of something more than biology.

Most nights, he let himself disappear. He became nothing. He waited for it to pass.

But tonight—tonight—he let himself think.

About the mark.

His breath seared against her skin, a fleeting warmth tracing the curve of her neck. He could hear her heartbeat, erratic and desperate, slamming against her ribs. One bite. Just one. And everything would change. One bite, and she would be his. Forever.

What if there was something more?

The door didn't open. It exploded.

A she-wolf stood in the wreckage of the threshold, young and wild, raw energy radiating from every inch of her. Restless, like a storm rolling in from the north. White fur gleamed in the dim light, silver catching at the edges, and her emerald eyes burned, sharp as a blade catching fire. Claws bit into the floor. Her tail was raised high. She didn’t enter the room—she claimed it.

Dominant. Shameless. Defiant.

Selene Lariano. Nyx.

She was fury made flesh, and when she spoke, her words carried the weight of a command.

“Where the hell is Price? I’ve been looking for him all over the base for two goddamn hours.”

Emily tensed. A moment ago, her scent had been thick, unshakable, draping itself over everything like heavy velvet. Now, it was gone. Erased. Overwritten.

Selene stepped forward, and the room tilted under the force of her presence. She didn’t need to bare her teeth or raise her voice—she simply was, and everything else made way. Ghost exhaled, slow and controlled. He couldn’t check her, not here. Not like this. Not with Emily still locked against him. The last thing he wanted was to wound Selene’s pride.

She was his responsibility. His burden. A natural Alpha, but still untested, still clawing her way up through instinct and defiance. She had strength—undeniable, magnetic—but no control. No discipline. It was his job to temper her before that unchecked force turned on itself, before she burned too hot and left nothing but ruin in her wake.

Selene tilted her head, narrowed her eyes. She had been too caught up in her own fury to notice at first, but now… now she saw exactly what was happening. Her gaze snapped to Emily. To the way they were locked together. To what had almost happened.

Something shifted. The irritation didn’t fade, but it twisted into something else. Not fear. No, never fear. Something more complex. More dangerous.

“Hm.”

Her head cocked slightly. Silver-tipped ears twitched. Her voice came lazy, taunting, but the fire in her eyes sharpened.

“Interesting. Wasn’t it you who said you couldn’t be tied down, Lieutenant?”

Ghost said nothing.

Selene stepped closer, every movement measured, deliberate. A hunter closing the distance, taking her time.

“I thought you were the type who was ‘in, out, no attachments.’” A slow smirk pulled at her lips, sharp and knowing. “But look at you now—lying there, getting comfortable. Relaxing.”

She knew exactly where to twist the knife. She was waiting for a crack in his composure.

She wouldn’t get one.

Ghost felt Emily tense. Selene’s presence devoured everything, drowning out the air, pressing against the walls. Emily was nothing more than a shadow now, fading against the oncoming storm.

"Are you finished, Lariano?" His voice was cold, stripped of patience.

Selene’s lips curved, slow and sharp.

"Between the two of us, you’re the one who’s finished."

She began to circle, lazy, unhurried, moving with the practiced ease of a predator that knew exactly how close it could get before the fight began. Her emerald gaze flickered, her tail twitched. She was enjoying this. And he let her. He could have shut her down, cut this short, ended the game before it started.

But he didn’t.

"The operation plan is complete shit."

His brow twitched slightly.

"And which part, exactly, fails to meet your high standards?"

Selene scoffed, shaking her head.

"The part where we blow up a damn train in the middle of the woods with no satellite coverage and turn it into a miniature Siberian apocalypse. You do realize we’ll have minutes for the fireworks, right? Mountains, tunnels—one thing goes wrong, and we’re buried under an avalanche along with the cargo."

He had been expecting this. She’d been stewing over it all day, long before the briefing even started.

"If you knew more than the rest of us, why the hell did you stay silent?"

"Back then, it was just a hunch. Now it’s a certainty."

Ghost held her gaze, his silence slicing through the air like a blade drawn in warning. No anger. No mockery. Just something heavy, unspoken, stretching the space between them. She wasn’t wrong about the op.

But that wasn’t what bothered him.

What unsettled him was the way she looked at him. Like she already knew. Like she had seen past every wall, every carefully controlled breath, down to the raw, primitive hunger coiled beneath his skin, gnawing at the edges of restraint.

Ghost exhaled slowly, pushing the irritation down, forcing it into a tight, iron-clad box. This entire scene was a performance—staged, deliberate, predictable. A game she was playing because she could. And he was tired of playing the silent observer in someone else’s script.

"Selene, we can table this conversation. Once I’m free, I’ll find you." His voice was steady, precise, the kind of edge that warned there was nothing left to push.

He knew it wouldn’t change anything.

Selene never backed down.

Never.

In her world, words like later or not now meant nothing. Dry leaves underfoot. She pushed, pressed, tested boundaries—not just because she could, but because she thrived on it. And damn, she was good.

She didn’t move. Not an inch. Instead, she prowled, circling him with the slow, deliberate confidence of something untamed. She invaded his space with shameless curiosity, drinking in every detail, searching for cracks. She was enjoying this—he could see it in the slight squint of her eyes, the subtle curl of her lips.

She was playing.

And he endured.

“How much longer is this going to last?” Her voice was lazy, indifferent on the surface, but amusement—sharp and cutting—flickered beneath.

“Depends. Up to an hour,” Ghost answered, holding her gaze. “Nyx, get lost.”

“An hour?” Selene tilted her head, pretending to consider. “How is it? Comfortable? Bored yet? Just sitting there, waiting, enduring? Maybe have a smoke? Flip through a magazine?”

His teeth locked, his patience stretched to its limits.

“Lariano. Get out.”

For a moment, it seemed like she would. She turned, took a step—then stopped.

The shift was instant. Subtle, but unmistakable. Her nostrils flared as she took a slow, deliberate breath. Her whiskers twitched. Her expression flickered—just for a second—before settling into something else. Something colder.

Disgust.

Her throat bobbed, muscles tensing as if fighting off a gag reflex.

“You’re gonna reek for days,” she muttered, tilting her head. “At least the last one didn’t stink as bad.”

Ghost closed his eyes.

Anger surged through him, hot and relentless, like a predator ready to strike. A slow, measured tide that dragged nails over his patience. Inside, it boiled—heavy, suffocating, dense as the silence before a storm. But outwardly, he gave her nothing.

The mask held.

His jaw locked, muscles coiled tight. The grind of his teeth, barely restrained. The impulse—dark and insistent—to shut her up with one quick, decisive motion.

It took everything not to give in.

His temples throbbed. His fingers twitched. His body pushed toward action.

Selene exhaled, flicking her paw toward the door, her voice barely a murmur.

“Try not to get too cozy, Lieutenant.”

The smirk in her tone was almost imperceptible.

Then she was gone.

***

The silence Selene left behind didn’t just settle over the room. It clung to it, thick and suffocating. The kind of silence that seeps into the walls, into the skin, slow and insidious, like smoke from a fire long since burned out. Ghost exhaled, the sound barely there, letting reality click back into place. Cold. Familiar.

Emily.

She didn’t move. Didn’t breathe. Or maybe she did, but so quietly the air refused to carry the sound. He knew this kind of silence. Had seen it before. In the hands of soldiers gripping their weapons too tightly, afraid their fingers might betray them with a shake. In the hollow faces of men who had just realized their lives had split clean down the middle—before and after.

Fear was written all over her.

The tremor in her muscles was almost imperceptible. Almost. But he noticed. He heard her swallow, the tiny, forced motion of someone trying to pull themselves together. And then, finally, she looked at him.

He didn’t move.

Didn’t react. Didn’t acknowledge her.

That became a problem.

Her breath hitched. A small, sharp sound, barely more than an inhale. She curled in on herself, like an animal suddenly realizing it was locked in a cage with something that had just decided it had lost interest.

But he was still here.

Still touching her.

Heat. Weight. Presence. And yet—he was gone. Retreating into that cold, unreachable place where nothing could touch him.

Emily needed him to stay, to not vanish into that cold, distant place.

She had almost become his mate. Almost.

His breath had burned against her neck. His teeth—so close. She could still feel the ghost of them on her skin, the phantom of something that never quite happened. One more second, one more fraction of hesitation, and everything would have changed.

She had been right there—one half-breath away.

But now, he wasn’t looking at her.

Her body jerked instinctively, too sharp, too sudden. She caught herself, forced it into something softer, pressing in just slightly—an accident, or something close enough to pass as one. Warmth. Invitation. A quiet plea she wasn’t foolish enough to speak aloud.

He would feel it.

He would notice.

He would have to acknowledge it.

Because he was still inside her.

The dull, persistent ache of his knot—still there, unyielding. Still holding them together. A trap that hadn’t yet released her.

Some part of her wanted to speak. To shift, just enough to force his attention. To tell him it was too much, that it hurt.

But she wasn’t stupid.

If she said it, he would only pull further away. Shut down. Retreat behind that cold, impenetrable wall. And then she would lose him completely.

So she chose a different tactic.

A slow breath. Heavy-lidded eyes. A subtle shift, barely there, as if her body had surrendered on its own, yielding to the warmth still anchoring them together. Almost an illusion.

But he noticed.

His fingers twitched against her thigh.

A good sign.

She tilted her head, her voice soft—almost a whisper.

"You were going to mark me."

Ghost moved. Barely. A flicker of tension. His shoulders, rigid. His jaw, locked. But he was looking at her now.

Good.

Emily exhaled, careful, steady, holding onto the fragile thread between them.

"I want this."

Simple words. Not a plea. Not a demand. Just an offer.

And yet, she felt it—the shift in him. Not physical. His knot was still there, still holding them together, unyielding. But something inside him had vanished.

Not doubt.

Not guilt.

Emptiness.

A cold, absolute void swallowing everything that might have been an answer.

Emily realized—too late—that she had miscalculated.

Ghost exhaled. Slow. Merciless.

"No."

That was it.

No explanations. No justifications. Just a final, unshakable refusal.

The rejection struck like a blow.

Her throat tightened, something cold washing through her, settling like stone in her chest. She swallowed it down, forced the reaction deep, where he couldn’t see it.

Fine. If he wouldn’t give her this—she would take something else.

Her fingers trailed along his forearm, slow and deliberate, tracing the tense muscle beneath his skin. As if nothing had happened.

"It's not that important right now anyway," she murmured, deliberately light, deliberately easy. "We still have time."

Ghost didn’t respond. His silence pressed down on her, heavier than before.

Not reassuring.

But not dismissive either.

Not yet.

***

The armory was heavy with the smell of oil, metal, and gunpowder—thick, acrid, sinking into the skin. The dim overhead lights cut jagged shadows across the walls, casting patterns of steel and phantom silhouettes. The only sound was the rhythmic clatter of metal as Selene worked, her movements sharp, mechanical.

Receiver cover—gone. Recoil spring—resting in her palm. Bolt. Carrier. Click. Clack. Rustle.

Again.

Her fingers moved fast, flawless. Precise, almost predatory. The cold steel grounded her, steadied her hands, but it did nothing to quiet the fire inside. The anger didn’t fade. Didn’t settle. It gnawed at her, coiled tight in her muscles, demanding an outlet.

She wanted to break something.

To slam her fist into the damn table. To tear this useless feeling out of her chest, rip it apart until nothing was left. But she didn’t. Instead, she worked.

Disassemble. Reassemble.

Deep breath.

Again.

Click. Inhale. Exhale. Clack.

It wasn’t just anger. It was something worse—something deeper. A frustration so raw it scraped against her ribs. An itch she couldn’t reach, a sharp, suffocating helplessness that wouldn’t be silenced. It clawed at her insides, daring her to snap.

The scene looped in her head like a wound that refused to close.

She needed him. Needed to go over the plan, to break it down, to find a way to survive the hell ahead. But he had been busy.

With an Omega.

The thought made her fingers tense mid-motion. A second too long. A half-second too tight. The rage ground inside her like sand between her teeth. What pissed her off more—that it happened, or that she gave a damn?

Selene exhaled sharply. No.

It didn’t matter.

Feelings didn’t solve problems. Emotions didn’t make tactical decisions. She had to focus, had to do something.

She sensed him before she heard him.

The air shifted. Thickened. Like the silence before a trigger pull. A cold edge sliced through the heavy heat of the room, running down her spine.

She didn’t see him. Didn’t hear him.

She felt him.

The smallest displacement of air. A faint, deliberate disturbance. The kind of presence that filled a space without needing to announce itself.

The door creaked open, quiet, controlled. The scent of metal and gunpowder mixed with something sharper. Colder. Almost sterile.

She didn’t look up—didn’t need to.

The atmosphere had changed, the space suddenly smaller. Tighter.

Ghost.

Selene didn’t look up. The rifle was assembled. Checked. Placed on the table. She waited.

"Talk?" His voice was calm. Even. Giving nothing away.

She scoffed, picked up the rifle again, and started taking it apart.

"You lost control. Again." His tone was flat. Unshaken. Arms crossed. "Was it about the op, or did you just feel like making a scene?"

Selene tensed but didn’t answer. Stubborn silence wouldn’t do her any favors, but if she spoke, she might start yelling. Instead, she dismantled the bolt, set it aside.

"You want me to leave?"

She shrugged, barely glanced at him. "No."

He stepped closer. Watching her. Studying her.

He saw the same thing he always did—a tall, lean figure, athletic, her silver-white hair bound in two tight braids, heavy like steel cables. Emerald-green eyes, sharp as knives, always gleaming with defiance. Sun-kissed skin. The dark silhouette of a sniper rifle entwined with a cobra inked onto her forearm.

"Explain what the hell that was." His voice was steady but edged, a clipped command. "Barging in unannounced, making a spectacle, pushing down on those weaker than you. That’s not strength, Selene. That’s stupidity. You think my tolerance is weakness? That you can do whatever the hell you want just because I don’t put you in your place every time you get an itch in your ass? You’re wrong."

Another step. His voice dropped lower, but the warning in it sharpened.

"I give you freedom because I believe you can handle it. Don’t mistake that for impunity. Cross the line again—I’ll file a report."

She snapped the bolt shut, harder than necessary.

Ghost moved in.

When she reached for the bolt carrier, his hand closed over hers.

"Not like that," he said, voice even. "Smooth. No jerking."

Her fingers stiffened, but he didn’t let go, holding the pressure just long enough for her to register it. She clenched her jaw, but she complied, adjusting her movements. He nodded.

"Selene, my patience is running thin. I’m your CO, not your babysitter."

"Fine, I was wrong. Happy, sir?"

"No." His voice was sharp, decisive. "You just dumped a mess of emotions on me, Selene. But where’s the logic? Where the hell are the facts?"

She exhaled harshly. "I needed you. And where were you? Stuck with an Omega while the rest of us are trying to stop this mission from going to hell. The op is a mess, and you—" she broke off, voice tight. "You were supposed to have my back, Ghost."

Needed.

The word hit like a rusty nail driven into wood. He ripped it out, leaving only splinters.

Focus—on action, not words.

"Omegas. You don’t have to love them. You don’t have to pity them. But you do have to respect them. Because without that, you’re just a rabid dog biting at everything in sight."

"You hate them too," she shot back, sharp and unyielding.

"Bullshit." His voice didn’t waver. "I’m not looking for a mate, but without them, we don’t last. Someone has to keep the balance, or everything collapses. And then what will the alphas have left to trample?"

His eyes locked onto hers.

"Tell me something, Lariano—if Omegas are so useless, how the hell were you even born?"

Selene’s lips twitched. "Hatched from a dragon’s egg."

For the first time, she lifted her gaze fully to his.

His masked expression didn’t shift.

"And raised by dragons, apparently," Ghost muttered, exhaling sharply.

His voice steadied, the steel in it deliberate now. "Listen. Supporting an Omega through their cycle isn’t indulgence, and it sure as hell isn’t a choice. It’s a necessity. Their condition isn’t a whim, not a way to get attention. It’s pure physiology. And if an Alpha turns their back on that, they’re not an Alpha. They’re just an idiot who doesn’t understand how this damn world works."

He spoke evenly, without excess emotion. Just a fact laid bare.

"I did what I had to do. Because it’s my responsibility. As an Alpha. As a leader. They depend on us, and if we start looking away when they need us, then what the hell are we even worth? This isn’t weakness, Selene. This is duty. This is strength. This is what we are."

His gaze didn’t waver.

"And I sure as hell ain’t gonna apologize."

Selene said nothing, but her eyes flicked to the side. Ghost exhaled, pulled his hand back, stepped away slightly.

"I know, I know. They’re weak and fragile. You want me to say I’m sorry?"

"Weakness and uselessness aren’t the same thing." His voice was low, tight. "This was my choice. My responsibility. And you’re gonna deal with it. While Emily’s in heat, she stays in my quarters. So either you learn to control yourself, or you get used to closed doors."

Her fists clenched. Anger stirred, raw and insistent.

"Come on, Selene. You’re not the type to throw tantrums." Ghost’s tone was firm, steady. "An Alpha isn’t just strength—it’s restraint. Discipline. Taking a hit and doing what needs to be done, not what you want to do. You know that. So stop acting like some fresh pup who just grew fangs and thinks that makes her untouchable. You’ve got a brain—use it."

Selene’s jaw tightened. "Fine. I’ll try." The words came clipped. A concession, but barely. "Are we discussing the op tomorrow?"

"I’ll think it over. Though if it were up to me, this plan would already be in the trash."

She smirked, stepping past him. Her fingers brushed against his shoulder—not a farewell, not gratitude. Just a casual motion, like a mark left behind, claws scraping over wood. Then she was gone. No hesitation. No glance back.

***

Ghost dragged a hand down his face, short and sharp, as if wiping something unseen away. Then he stepped toward the table.

No hesitation. No second-guessing.

The walls, lined with old repairs, swallowed the sound of his movements. Racks of weapons stood in precise rows, cold, indifferent. Just props before a battle. A warehouse of killing tools. Nothing more.

The scent of Selene still clung to the table. To the rifle she had just handled. Stubborn. Warm. A lingering proof of presence that was no longer there.

He ignored it. Almost.

His fingers closed around the nearest rifle. Tested the weight. Checked the balance. Mechanical. Break it down. Inspect. Reassemble. Deep breath. Again. The metallic clicks, the steady rhythm—usually grounding.

But not now.

Her presence was still there. Not the scent—the memory. The impression. Something barely tangible, but impossible to shake. It made him breathe deeper, prolonging the torment.

Worse than if she had still been here. Staring him down with that sharp, defiant gaze.

The phantom of it echoed in his skull like the crack of a gunshot. The familiar jolt in his muscles after a fight. He felt it in every precise motion, in every inhale that carried not just gunpowder but a shadow of her.

Stupid. Useless.

An Alpha had no business fixating. Not in their world. A world where everything hinged on defined roles, the balance between Alpha and Omega—how else was survival ensured?

He knew this. Had it carved into his damn instincts.

But her—

She was always the exception.

She crashed into his space, upset the balance, never hesitated to push, but never hesitated to return either. Her words hung in the air like a live grenade, waiting for someone to pull the pin.

He could ignore it. Could shove it down, bury it, pretend it didn’t exist.

If it were that easy, he wouldn’t be sitting here, dismantling a rifle that still held her warmth.

He pulled the bolt back. Click. Clank. Locked and loaded.

Exactly as it should be.

Just like always.

#call of duty #tf 141 #fanfic #omegaverse #simon ghost riley #ghost #storytelling #dark fic #military #modern warfare #alpha female #oc #fanfiction #nc17

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houndsinspace · 4 months ago

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Third Pan-Galactic Civil War; Universal Schism

A galaxy fracturing conflict that lasted 680 years between the Stellar Orthodoxy and the Neo-Atheist Garden of Ascension that resulted in the dissolution of both governing bodies and the formation of the Astral Security Preservatorium. Functioning as a regulatory council, the ASP is in place to safeguard the Autonomy Accords; an agreement that guarantees the rights of its signatories to operate as independent governments, or to come together and form collective alliances, coalitions, and even in some cases, republics.

The Stellar Orthodoxy had ruled the stars for several millennia, bringing the doctrines and dogma of the ancient human Church to the vast reaches of space. Preaching and prejudice followed the church from the gravity well of Earth to the vast expanses of the unknown. Every system they touched fell to their control; military might combined with self-righteous zealotry gave them what seemed to be a supernatural advantage over those they converted.

Rising from the cracks and rubble of many conquered systems and civilizations, the Neo-Atheist Garden of Ascension, or NAGA, proved to be the only intergalactic power that could give them any opposition. They didn’t possess even a fraction of the infrastructure that made up the war machine of the Stellar Orthodoxy. NAGA made up for their lack of raw military power with some of the most advanced technology space had ever seen.

Frontier systems, having used virtual reality for centuries to develop cutting edge technology without endangering organic life, were easily able to adapt that development into creating virtual consciousness and artificial intelligence. AI was their force multiplier; even the earliest and most primitive versions allowed for a reduction in nearly 70% of all organic staff requirements in settings where an AI could be of use. Thanks to these early AI, NAGA Fleet Command was able to design, develop, and manufacture the Marauder-class siege carriers they used to dethrone the SO’s Crusade Armada.

#fiction #world building #world lore

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etherealvoidechoes · 28 days ago

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I have to sit down and think of how to write everything down in a coherent way WH40K anon to explain the semi-heretical/full heretical trouble for my Loyalists. But I can give you the legions/chapters that are closely tied together because of three guys, and some info on the heretical stuff. Also, playing with some ideas and probably bending some rules regarding the latter and things are in flux with how my brain works.

It is mainly the Blood Angels and White Scars, with a small amount of the varying surviving remnants of Loyalists from Traitor legions that are with either group: War Hounds/World Eaters, Night Lords, Death Guard/Dusk Raiders, and Thousand Sons. The "traitor" Loyalists started using their old legion names again. The heretical stuff mainly concerns the Blood Angels and White Scars.

Also for which Loyalists were with who:

Blood Angels: War Hounds/World Eaters & Night Lords.

White Scars: Death Guard/Dusk Raiders & Thousand Sons.

The three marines that tie everyone together are from the Blood Angels, White Scars, and War Hounds/World Eaters. Nicknamed the "Empath Trio."

The heretical stuff.

The Blood Angels have it a little worse since some of the secrets happen pre-heresy concerning some Dark Age of Technology humans they stumble across. That was a mess but thankfully turned out a lot better than it could have ended. I'll say it involves mistaking some of the advanced human tech as AI(which offends them), the Necrons(thankfully more of the friendly sort), and a few other things. The Archmagos that was with that particular Company absolutely drove the commander nuts with the interest she took in the colony, the tech, and the Necrons.

Post-heresy and into The Great Scouring, they were lost during a Warp storm when they got ambushed by a Chaos war band. Some unknown and highly illegal tech installed by the Archmagos across the surviving fleet somewhat safely locks them in an odd time loop in the warp for a long time before suddenly reappearing in real space in mid to late M41 in some sector the Blood Angels were fighting/defending. Very much a rocky reunion (lots of fun explaining the Loyalist Night Lords still with them), but things work out after a lot of work checking their identities, making sure they're not tainted by the Warp, etc. Also have to deal with an Ordo Xenos Inquisitor who catches wind of that and some of the strange tech but turns out the old Necron friend set that up for them to get them "cleared' of suspicion. And at some point get in contact with the Necron again.

Eventually, they are cleared and made their chapter and stick to being fleet-based as they are very much out of touch with the current state of the universe.

Also, from what they know, none of their old War Hounds/World Eaters allies survived as the Heresy came to an end with them sacrificing themselves defending their allies from Chaos. Their Night Lord allies stay integrated with them and end up helping in the creation of stealth-specific squads.

For the White Scars(working on their successor chapter name) it's some time post-heresy, they've split into a successor chapter already, when they find themselves being rescued by the Harlequins and are "lost" in the Webway for a long time before reemerging around mid-M41 (at least a couple hundred years before the Blood Angels.) Undecided on how they make contact with the Imperium again, but possibly something similar to the Blood Angels' reemergence. Possibly something dealing with the one Imperial Navy that is on good terms with one of the Craftworlds and they're dealing with Chaos or Orks.

But once things get "settled", the White Scars continue to have good relations with the Harlequins that they have to keep secret as not all will agree with that. End up making friends with an Ordo Xenos Inquisitor that helps with that.

Their Dusk Raiders/Death Guard allies have mostly survived and stay integrated with them. Their Thousand Sons allies are most likely dead due to the "flesh change" unless a way to stabilize/stop that was found.

Eventually, the Blood Angels and White Scars(and co) meet their old Sworn Brothers again. They'll end up working frequently like the Blood Swords and Star Dragons.

#Warhammer 40k musings #warhammer 40k #anon asks #asks #WH40k #here I am making another trio #no worries there most likely will be NO major fan fics for this.#my brain is not in the mood to memorize 40k's lexicon and there is so much to keep up with #I may do something short but nothing long. but I have some audiobook I need to get my hands on

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fugu-in-f · 1 year ago

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fucking no

you can't put that there

on the left is the ai superterminal and i can hack that to reduce ai progress, and on the right is a human encampment which will raise ai progress by a shitload in two hours when its cloaking fails

all hell is going to break loose if i kick that supercomputer, and then i lose whatever ai progress i get hacking the damn thing when the human refugees explode for +100 ai points

i guess this is my clue to finish the game in the next two hours

#ai war #ai war fleet command #indie shit #this is not going to make any sense to anyone

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shithowdy · 1 year ago

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So question I must know: what’s the deal with Fallout AU Chadley and his spawn? I need to know this because of reasons.

An exercise in how mean I can be to a character, apparently. 💀

This Chadley pursued a career in cancer genome research with a focus on colorectal carcinoma, which took his mother's life when he was 12. He partnered with a private research group for a while until it was absorbed by a company called Mimir Syndicate after a very weird acquisition process that involved a lot of psychological evaluations on the researchers and signing of contracts that were functionally super-NDAs; his only options were to remain under contract and attempt to continue his work or leave and be barred from continuing anything in that particular career path for the rest of his life due to his work being their "intellectual property".

After agreeing to remain, he and about 50 other scientists (from his own team and other new ones) alongside their spouses and children, plus some other operative staff, were relocated to an underground facility in another city entirely under the assurance that it was for "their protection" with an increasing risk of spies. He was unable to inform his father of this move before it became evident that none of them were able to leave-- they were not even informed when the world outside had been set ablaze.

This ended up being one of Mimir's own vault projects, a psyker development program overseen by robots that were both remotely operated by executives and also a default AI. The purpose was to use the researchers' own genetic material as the baseline for the project, while all the staff and families would keep the population consistent enough for the project to continue until viable. Except this was a terrible idea for a hundred reasons and several people rebelled instantly, ended their lives when they discovered what had happened above, and basically everything that can be expected to go wrong when people are imprisoned and told they are going to now be part of what's basically a horrifying mutant eugenics project.

The executives vanished from the command system (because of nuclear war lol), leaving only the AI to handle protocol for what to do with the remaining people, and in an attempt to preserve the project they put the remaining 30 or so researchers into cryogenic stasis for routinely cycled resuscitation, one at a time, so they would be unable to easily communicate with one another but still continue the project where a human hand (and genetic material) was actually required. What followed was a nightmarish 190ish years of being in and out of consciousness for only a few months at a time, watching mutant creations made from your own flesh and blood (and other spliced things, like fungi) be created and die in what feels like a flash, growing increasingly more disoriented and sick from a process that should really only happen once... but still plotting with the others in secret through hidden notes for a way to terminate the entire system.

And eventually it worked. About 10 years before the story begins, he finally manages to set off what was functionally a homemade EMP by the the remaining team in the room housing the stasis pods, killing his companions. With alarms blaring he records a final log of what happened there before taking his own life with a cocktail of surgical drugs, leaving the AI with nothing but only what material remained and no humans to actually guide the project. It took about ten more years for the whole thing to unravel completely, allowing ample opportunity for at least one of the more clever mutants to escape through an old breach left by raiders terminated by the AI.

He only had fleeting interactions with Emil, though notably with a hint of both horror and pride as he had to make the recommendation to continue following this specific blueprint, because finally one was stable. Cognizant. None of them have said they were scared of the scalpel before. God help him.

#i was kind of wondering if the story was 'too much' at first #but then i saw what went down at H&H and vault 4 and vault 75 and im like you know what???#normal occurrence #sorry abby i think lorcan was stuck in there too sdgjkhgsdhjk #'son' is a very strong word for their relationship #oliver gets to cope with how he wants to view that #yaaaay #honestly story is kind of a wip so not everything is super hammered out besides 'something awful happened here'

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jpitha · 8 months ago

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Between the Black and Grey - Epilogue

First / Previous

The K'laxi Administration and Fleet Command was on a space station, orbiting high above their planet. Sure, they had countries like the humans and other peoples; they were not one large homogenous people. K'laxi came in all different shapes, sizes, colors, and predilections just like humans, Gren, Innari, and others. They found that having a central station not on the planet allowed the greatest chance for cooperation and coordination among the different K'laxi peoples.

Except for the whole civil wars thing, but that was nearly finished with anyway, so there was no need for concern with that.

Zhe walked down the halls; her steps confident, her gaze high and clear, and her uniform... unfamiliar to Fen, Penny, Chloe, and the others. Gord would probably recognize it, but he would also have known better than to say anything. People in the halls gave her plenty of space, and a few tried to make it look like they had forgotten something and needed to turn around and go down that other hall very quickly. It's not every day that a member of the Mel'itim - the secret police - walks around in uniform. Zhe's face was impassive, but she smiled inwardly at the sight. It was fun to be intimidating sometimes.

She had asked Penny and Fen - Currently Empress and Empress Emeritus - for a few months off "to visit family and check in on them." It had been granted without question. She was given use of a frigate with a full crew and ordered to 'relax and take time off."

Fen's recovery had been slow, difficult. Some parts of her body were permanently damaged and had been replaced with artificial and lab grown replacements. Her legs were built much like the AI bodies, and most of her lungs had to be re-grown. Han'iel's implant was also removed and it was discovered that while it was a magnetic bottle for antimatter, none was present. That caused a stir and made everyone question just how successful Han'iel's project to develop reliable antimatter was. Did he just make enough for the one missile, and couldn't make anymore? It just led to more questions that would be asked of him when he was captured. Fen was able to walk, and her mind was intact, but the nanite infestation had changed her. She was more quiet, introspective. She had no desire to rule and would spend long hours in the royal suites reading or studying. She was trying to learn all she could about what actually happened to one in one hundred humans when they went through a wormhole link. Quite a few anonymous donations for research into the phenomenon had been made as of late, so people had begun to dig deeper into it.

The nanites seemed to be gone. Fen's virus had worked its way through the main cloud around the white hole, and then had passed virulently through the worlds until no real trace could be detected. Most everyone had no idea that they existed - let alone held sway over the human Empress' for the last few centuries, and as much as they could, that information was suppressed. The official word was that they were a malevolent species that long in the past had decided to become a cloud of nanoscale consciousness. Their matter manipulation and... mind manipulation abilities were quietly ignored. Fen's virus was such that those who had an especially large concentration of nanites did not come away unscathed, but nobody seemed to be as damaged as she was. Most everyone who had a large amount of them already knew they existed, or could be convinced to keep their true purpose quiet.

Han'iel's rebellion was still underway, but the tide had turned. The pro-Sol faction had always been larger, and even during the previous civil war when it was more of a religious war than an ideological one there were more K'laxi that wanted to throw their lot in with the humans, even if it was for practical and pragmatic reasons. With Fen and Penny's quiet help, the pro-Sol faction was most likely going to win.

Speaking of, Penny did have quite a few pretenders to contend with, but most of them wound up being pretenders in name only. They had no support, no money, and no weapons. A small number - less than six - did have some of those things, but with Zhe's help and a few 'happy accidents' they were taken care of. One of the last, a general that was quite popular with his crew and managed to put together a flotilla of like minded ships was convinced with a rather large payout and only a small amount of sitting tied to a chair with a wormhole link backpack strapped to him to 'retire' and move to Meíhuà. All in all, the succession 'question' had lasted less than a year.

The human colonies had largely taken a 'wait and see' approach to everything going on. Parvati put out plenty of announcements that they were 'proud of being a member of the Empire' but also had quietly called up their reservists and dug a few old ships out of mothballs and began refitting them for service. The AI citizens that had previously been the ships were offered their old positions, and most took them. Meíhuà, being the furthest and most insular colony went on as they always had, with one eyebrow raised towards Sol, and concentrated on their own things. There was word that Penny would declare self determination for all interested polities and that the main colony worlds would most likely take them up on it. That hadn't happened yet however.

The Gren, Sefigans, Innari, and others were pleased that the Empire had given up their 'recent acquisitions' and had offered to pay reparations for the damages they had caused, but in return peace and friendship agreements were... encouraged to be signed by the humans. They were signed in due course, and before long trade would resume between the peoples.

The AIs were... the AIs. Almost, but not quite human, they had their own wants, needs, desires, and goals. A faction was developing of the newer, younger AIs who wished to strike off on their own, make their own colony, and remove themselves from what they saw as 'human hegemony.' The older AIs on the other hand felt a much closer kinship to the humans and wanted to stay around and help them. Gord was the de facto leader of the 'old guard' and wasn't interested in in-fighting. Chloe had mentioned to Fen quietly that he was probably going to let anyone who wanted to go, go and anyone who wanted to stay, stay.

Zhe stood, her feet shoulder width apart, her tail still while the report was read aloud by a steward. Three elder K'laxi sat on a dais above her, their faces stony. When the steward was finished, she saluted and walked out of the room. Behind her, the door closed with finality.

"Zherun, your report is... extensive." The K'laxi in the middle said, his ears flicking. "We had expected a report sooner, but I suppose what you were dealing with necessitated delays in reporting."

"Yes, Elder." Zhe looked straight ahead.

"You were not successful in preventing the Empress from developing antimatter." The one on Zhe's left said, her fur long and wavy, unusual in K'laxi.

"No, Elder. They have improved their containment technology, but their production technology remains slow and difficult. Empress Penelope has no real desire to continue Fen's line of research. I anticipate it will stall."

"How goes the Heap?" The one on her right said, his ears flicking in amusement.

"My Father's work continues. He understands... some of the nature of my role here and does not pressure me." Just for a moment, her eyes met his. "Though, he would like me to return and take up the family mantle."

The right K'laxi nodded. "A pirate who can also report back to us on information is a valuable asset indeed. Letters of marquis will not be issued, and there will be an expectation that you will keep... activities against K'laxi to a minimum, but I see no real issue with that being your next posting. Agreed?"

"Agreed." The other two K'laxi echoed.

That was surprising. Zhe was wondering when she could request a transfer to the Heap. The fact that they were assigning her there solved so many problems. "Thank you, Elders. I will continue my work on the Heap."

"We know you will, Zhe, that's why we're assigning you there. Continue to bring us accurate information about the humans and other species in the galaxy, and your leash will be long."

"Did you wind up mating with Fen?" The middle K'laxi asked.

"P-Pardon me?" Zhe's fur rippled a few times, blushing, but she managed to keep her expression from changing, other than her already large eyes widening a little.

The Elder practically rolled his eyes. "You're not an embarrassed child, you heard my question. We know she was married to a K'laxi, so we know she is attracted to us. Mating with her and beginning a relationship would be an excellent way to gain information."

"Er, no Elder, I did not. She still loves her wife, and other than some physical intimacy with Penny, I did not see her express any desire in another relationship."

"You never offered?"

"Elder! With all due respect, that is too far."

He laughed with the barking cough of K'laxi laughter. "Zherun, you have done well. We thank you for your service and wish you all the best in your future." The three of them stood, signaling the end of the debrief.

Zhe saluted, and turned to leave. As she approached the door, the lock clicked, and a guard opened it for her, nodding slightly as she passed.

If she was going to be going to the Heap for a while, she should stock up while she was here. Zhe headed down towards the promenade, wondering how many people were going to avoid her while she wore her uniform, and whether she could leverage that fear into a discount on a box of Chamomile.

#humans are deathworlders #humans are space orcs #humans are space oddities #jpitha #humans and aliens #writing #sci fi writing #humans are space australians #humans are space capybaras #FlashWarp

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bluemooncove · 2 months ago

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You know Galatea was meant to be a setting that was kinda secondary to the other settings. Really it existed primarily as explanation for where one of the characters on the Fantasy Setting had come from and to set up an eventual storyline for that long in the future. But aside from that it was not mean to be of much importance. But talking with Coda and rping with her has really built up my focus upon it and made me develop it more. So lets talk a little about the Galtea world.

Sorta akin to the cyberpunk setting, it's a world adjacent to ours. History is different and so is the cartography of the world but it has familiar sites in order to play up it's robot dystopia nature. That's why the thread I've got with Coda features actual landmarks. Things aren't quite the same but they're the same enough to have familiar places.

As I've mentioned before, Galatea is quite explicitly a dieselpunk setting. In this setting the petroleum and diesel engines were invented notably sooner. The Steam Engine was still invented first but it was quickly replaced by petroleum. This allowed for a more rapid increase in diesel based machinery. Cars and other vehicles came into existence sooner. The discovery of some fictional resources unique to their world also allowed for the development of more powerful diesel-adjacent engines.

Another fictional development was the ability to create the artificial brains used in Dieselmen. A process that allowed the people of this world to create simple automatons without computers having ever been discovered. Also unique to the world is Technopathy. A rare psychic ability that allows a person to mentally interlink with technology. This is related to the diesel men artificial brains but I've not quite worked out all the details her yet.

About 20 years before the Black Queen came online there was a great war fought in the world of Galatea. It lasted somewhere between 7-12 years and saw a great increase in vehicular technology. This is why they have some few jets and slightly more advanced submarines despite being vaguely akin to our 1930s. This also led to the creation of some Dieselmen being built for war. This includes a small small number akin to basic mechs. It also led to some experimental unique technology such as lasers (per Coda's request)

Once this concluded, the destruction and loss that it caused was so great that it led to a mass production of even more Dieselmen to fill many roles in society. The majority of war Dieselmen were also decommissioned at the end of the conflict despite Dieselmen having some vague semblance of sentience. So many wound up in scrap yards or picked apart for parts.

The creation of Black Queen was initially a secret project meant to stabilize this damaged world. To be a control unit for Dieselmen across the planet in order to coordinate repair efforts and resource sharing in order to prevent anything like that from happening again. Ŭ̴̹̏͒̀̋͠n̷̫̈̂͂̈́͑̾f̵̲̔̓̈̆̾͒o̸͍͑͐̍̚͜r̶̦̼̿̀̋̌͗͘t̶̙͔̤̝̋͌̀̿̀̚͜ú̷̙̕n̵͎̫͉̳̩̻͛́͐̈͠ä̶̡̛̰̤͚́͐͐̊͠t̶͈̒̍̕͜͠͠e̶̙̫̠̼̲͊̀͑̀̎̌ľ̴̢̪̿͆y̷̧͈͍̆͂͛̒̐̕ ̸͉̍͆͂̍̇Î̷̬̯̞̉̉͛ ̸̳̭͕̬̉̚͜ȟ̸̞̂͜a̸̢̨̝̯̰̔d̴̢̳̋̈̈̚ ̷̨̺̝̠̞͑͋̋͜ǫ̶̥͓͙̹͛̔͝t̸̤̲̰̦̯̒̌͊̇͂͜h̶͎̯̳̦̉ẽ̸̼̭͍͠r̵̮̼̳͍̂̾̌̀͆͋ ̴͈͍̑͛̔î̶͖͕͙̪ṋ̴͕͔͈̥̄͊̏͐͘t̷̡̒̌̅̈́͆͘ĕ̴̺͔͚͔̙̠n̴̼͖̋͆̃̔͘͝t̷̖̒͐̕̕i̷̻̺̲̎͐͛̕̕ó̸͇̮͈ǹ̵͔̲̃̓͆̓ś̸̡̝͚̻̯̌͊. Things did not go too well.

Since the Queen's Uprising, much of civilization has fallen. Not only did she reactivate the remaining decommissioned war Dieselmen but she took control of all of them. Being machines, even those not built for destruction were quite capable of it and she soon set to work retrofitting an army of farmer and clerk bots. The Black Queen AI's technopathy, however, only functions over dieselmen. She cannot directly control any of the other machines in her world.

Most of the surviving human resistance relies on Great War Machinery to get by. Most notably there is the sea fleet known as the the River Maidens. A resistance fleet made up of Great War submarines under the command of the The All Father but also featuring The Nibelung and The Aegir (eventually ocs will be introduced that crew the Aegir). There is also the air resistance known as the Flying Jaguars centered around the Flying Fortress Quetzalcoatl. There is even the land based Outlanders that that survive the outback in small buggy colonies.

The important things for the human resistance are mobility and environment. The Dieselemen do not have the ability to be everywhere at once, at least to a number that can threaten what humans remain, yet they continue to search the globe. Thus mobility is important to remain ahead of their strikes. Just as important is environment. Seawater and machines (barring specialized ones) do not mix, this is what allows the sea based resistance fleets to be the most numerous. Similarly, the majority of Dieselemen cannot fly. The sand of the outback as well as extremely high or low temperatures are also detrimental to most Dieselmen. This allows small pockets to exist in varying regions.

The largest stationary human outposts are based in the arctic and antarctic and are supported by The River Maidens who use them as their only main ports. Granted even these places are not totally safe as there are some few Dieselmen specially designed for these environments. Their general lack of creativity*, however, has prevented Black Queen from designing many new models for this purpose. In general though there are some sea based and air based dieselmen that prevent any environment from being totally safe.

The much bigger risk for these resistances, however, are resources. Other sources of power** were not developed beyond advanced diesel engines. They need petroleum and diesel to power the machines they need to hide just as dieselmen need it to function. With their current living conditions humans cannot produce new oil on their own, which means all these organizations are forced to raid the dieselmen for supplies. Food is also an issue, though those few human outposts that still exist do work to produce the food they can. Thankfully, the dieselmen also produce food. Why? Because BQ's goal is the conversion of as many humans as possible into her network. For that reason it'd be horrible if they starved. Producing food in certain production centers gives her bait to draw them in. She does not know quite where the resistance may be at any one time but she can expect them to always come chasing food.

*Part of Black Queen's purpose was to organize defense of the world. Thus, while she lacks most artistic creativity, she contains a knowledge of engineering and an ability to experiment advanced enough to slowly create new design models of Dieselmen but it is often a draw out process that requires intense effort on her part.

**Full disclosure as far as lore. There were experiments being done with solar power just before Black Queen's Uprising. This is relevant to a few highly experimental advanced Dieselmen but this research never progressed enough to be of use to humans.

#galatea fact ~ world lore #connoisseurs guide ~ headcanons #I lost the flow of my writing halfway through this so it may suddenly become harder to follow #petroleum dessert ~ black queen

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sol-consort · 1 year ago

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Yandere shepard x reader ryder thooo, like, it's commander fucking shepard. Shepard just walks off any blow for their cute pathfinder, headbutts krogans to protect Ryder. Shepard CAN and WILL do anything even if it seems impossible. Kett wouldn't have stood a chance. (How awkward would meeting Alec be at family dinners? Would Alec approve of their kid getting with a older n7? Then again it is commander Shepard!)

Alec would be so fucking pissed.

Being N7 was brutal and he definitely hated his co-workers, there is a reason he didn't sign up his kids for the same military program. He wanted them to he explorers and not traumatised by the military.

So Shepard being N7 is already a red flag in his book, not to mention their age! Shepard is definitely in their mid-late 30s and Alec would have none of that. They think they could waltz in here and date his 20ish kid? Over his cold dead body.

Like assuming this is still happening in the milky way, Shepard would have the best reputation imaginable for saving the galaxy meanwhile Alec has his reputation and creditability ruined for making an AI and implanting that AI into his brain.

Even if space jesus walked up to his doorstep with roses and medals of honour in hand, Alec would slam the door on Shepard's face if they even hint about taking you for a date.

Imagine if he knew Anderson from his N7 days and Shepard calls in a favour to make him talk with Alec. So now he has a whole fleet admiral at his door trying to convince him to let Shepard take you for a night out.

If Alec wasn't rushing to leave this cursed galaxy because of his ruined reputation, now he is doubling the efforts and speedrunning getting his andromeda project ready to get you away from Shepard.

And you're like, so cute and oblivious to what's happening. Your dad never told you or your twin anything because he wants to protect you. Any attempt Shepard makes at contacting you is blocked by Sam overseering your omni-tool.

But Alec's overprotectivess bites him in the ass when you eventually go out on your own like any adult your age does, and end up stumbling upon THE Commander Shepard, casually.

You have zero idea about their relentless attempts to get to you and obsession. You're flustered for meeting this celebrity who is N7 like your father, especially since you read some articles about Shepard before.

Shepard, who is known to be brutal to their fans and tell them to fuck off if they bothered them on the streets, is all smiles and invites you to the Normandy for a special tour. You won't refuse a commanding officer request, right civilian?

Maybe you really are a fan, or maybe you only read a couple articles about them but don't have the heart to tell them you're not actually a fan. What's the harm in being polite to this war hero and go meet the literal legends of the galaxy? This might as well be your last year in the milky way based on your father's plans after all.

I can't decide if Shepard would prefer having you on the Normandy where they know they can immediately take off with you on board and your father wouldn't be able to do anything.

Or take you to their citedal apartment and let you look around. Maybe sit close to them on the piano while they guide your fingers over the notes to teach you the same song Liara taught them, or maybe mention the fact they have a hottub upstairs in hopes you'd ask to try it.

Finding any excuses to get their hands on you. Resting it around your waist while walking in the street , pulling your body closer to theirs on the pretense it's crowded. Making you hold their hand while they use their VIP statues to get into exclusive places in the Citadel you normally aren't allowed inside.

Taking you to Artex Arena just to show off and get to play the hero while you try your best to hold your own. Laying on top of you when the two of you are hiding under cover from an enemy, releashing in the way you squirm underneath them especially since you haven't seen combat before.

Imagine the rest of the crew's reaction when Shepard suddenly bings them to cancel shore leave and go back to the Normandy just because they want to take you for a spin around the galaxy. Convincing you it will be very quick so don't worry about coming home late.

Joker watches Shepard bringing you to the helm and showing you the amazing views from the windows. You're in awe of the stars and like any proud pilot, he tries to show off his knowledge and his skills to you but Shepard cuts him off and talks about their own achievements instead. Completely shutting down the idea of you growing closer to Joker instead of them.

You ask to touch Garrus's scar and his cheeks glow blue for a second before nodding his head, bc how could he say no to this adorable human civilian? But Shepard interrupts and tells you how it's bad to touch turians, could be deadly to them, blatantly lying in front of Garrus.

If it's renegade Shepard, I see them mentioning the fact the glowing scars on their face is more interesting, why don't you touch them instead? Here their hands will guide yours.

Maybe Liara and Tali find you before Shepard could sneak you up to their personal quarters. Liara mentions knowing your father and how he always says good things about you, meanwhile tali is very fascinated by the Andromeda project and she mentions working on the qaurian ark design and she has some blueprints she'd love to run by you.

The two woman happy to talk your ears off for literal hours if they could. You're just so earnest and eager to please, it makes them want to share more since everyone else in this ship is so jaded and boring.

Shepard hating the idea of having to share you with them so they order Tali to go check in on the engine, telling Liara that they saw Gylph wander outside of her room. Any made up excuses to get them away from you.

And just when Shepard gets you to their quarters, let's you get busy looking at the ship models or petting their hamster. They send message to Joker to immediately take off and go as far as he could from the Citadel, engage full stealth systems.

Shepard almost wins, almost gets the chance to have you stay over for a whole week or more in here because "an urgent mission came up" and "I could teach you how to shoot better"

Except. Joker's request to take off is denied last second. Alec somehow figured out where you are and Immediately dialed up Anderson to yell at him for allowing his kid aboard a military ship and how Alec is going there right now and the Normandy better be still docked.

Shepard is happy to sit with you sprawled on their lap, talking about their latest mission while you fidget with a spaceship model before they get an omni-tool call from EDI. They silence it but she dials again and this time it auto-answers.

Alec Ryder is downstairs, and he is demanding his child be handed to him back immediately.

On another note, EDI and Sam feel like they'd be friends but differently. EDI wants to be more human while Sam doesn't because he already gets the human perspective from Alec and eventually the Ryder twins. He is an AI that enjoys being an AI and doesn't attempt to be more humanlike.

If you start dating Shepard and bringing them around, Alec would have to accept it for you but he will always be sour about it because you deserve better.

But imagine the events. Imagine the media and the news. If you thought living in your father's shadow of achievements was hard, imagine having to live under Shepard's. Especially to a Ryder who wants to make a name for themselves.

Shepard would 100% offer to go with you to Andromeda. Bringing the Normandy and their crew with them. Pulling their rank as a spectre whenever you think you could disobey their orders.

You have no choice but to follow the chain of command and let them abuse their authority over you. Making surprise visits to the Tempest and demanding to know who you're taking on mission or why did they see you and PeeBee standing so close together that other day.

Tagging along on missions so much that the only time you get to fight enemies alone is when Shepard is ordered to go deal with bigger more important missions and you finally have room to breath.

After your first contact with the angara, Shepard is immediately hostile to Jaal because what if they killed you? What were you thinking going to a new species like that? Did you forget about the turians first contact?

They use this stunt against you when you try and argue that you don't need their supervision. Ordering you to stand down and obey, they saved the galaxy, you don't get to question their judgement.

But they're so soft the day after when you're visibly hurt from their words. They pull you close and kiss you tenderly, reminding you that they're doing this for your own good and to protect you. You don't have to think, you're not fit to be a leader or a hero, they would know. So don't argue with them and stop playing pretend with your father's armour.

Constantly offering you a spot on the Normandy as their own personal assistant. No no it's different from Tryner, you won't do any actual work, all you have to do is be pretty and stay out of harms way. Tend to them after missions and answer whenever they call you to their quarters.

You constantly refuse of course, you won't give up the tempest that easily and you enjoy exploring the universe. You're a pathfinder with a big responsibility and you get to decided the future of the people here while Shepard's job is only to protect them.

A paragon Shepard will respect that. They will admire your passion and feel immense guilt at the growing obsession they continue to fester. Whether they ask Liara to keep tabs on you. Excusing their overprotective tendencies because they only want your best.

A renegade Shepard would squash down your dreams and any sense of self importance. Saying actually now, their job is to save your damn ass and you wouldn't even be alive if it wasn't for them protecting everyone. How you're clearly clumsy and not up to the task of being a pathfinder, just because your father choose you doesn't make you automatically qualified.

Renegade Shepard would try to sleep with you often, disregarding proper time and place. Not caring for your personal boundaries and going through your room in the tempest quite often.

While Paragon Shepard tries to connect with you emotionally more, show their love and dedication, how you're the single person in life that keeps them going. They pretend to respect your boundaries but keep subtly pushing the limits and conditioning you into making them the only exception. I mean they are the commander Shepard, the war hero, is it so bad to let them in your room?

Somehow, in both Shepard scenarios, some of your clothes and underwear always go missing after these visits.

#☆yandere #☆dark content #☆toxic relationship #☆Shepard #☆Ryder reader #☆smut #☆shepard x ryder #☆reader concept

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usafphantom2 · 8 months ago

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Flight Test Boss Details How China Threat Is Rapidly Changing Operations At Edwards AFB

The USAF says it’s out of time on China, which has kicked flight testing into overdrive with a focus on harnessing artificial intelligence for a major tactical edge.

Posted on Nov 13, 2024 1:55 PM EST

USAF/Richard Gonzales

“It is an incredible time to be involved in the world of U.S. Air Force flight-test. What we’re doing right now is designed to innovate and accelerate our next generation of capability. We’re modernizing so many of our weapon systems and many new technologies are all going through testing at the same time,” enthused Brig. Gen. Douglas “Beaker” Wickert, commander of the 412th Test Wing at Edwards Air Force Base in California. “Secretary Kendall has been very clear that we are out of time, that our Air Force has never been older or smaller than it is right now, and that the People’s Liberation Army has been specifically designed to defeat us.”

“The investments we’re making right now in modernization and testing for the USAF are designed for success and aimed at changing Chairman Xi’s calculus about pushing back aggressively against the international rules based order. What we are doing here and across USAF flight-testing is extremely consequential.”

The installation at the heart of American military flight-testing for more than 80 years, known today as Edwards AFB, is located in California’s northwestern Mojave desert. This test center has witnessed pioneering advances in aviation since 1942, including a Golden Age in the 1950s that saw an exotic assortment of new military aircraft and X-planes under frantic development in the skies above this sprawling base.

A B-1B Lancer from the Edwards AFB test fleet. Jamie Hunter

Today, Edwards AFB is extremely busy as the resident 412th Test Wing supports multiple efforts to rapidly advance USAF capabilities. Just like on Oct. 14, 1947, when Charles E. “Chuck” Yeager became the first human to exceed the speed of sound, or when William J. “Pete” Knight flew the highly modified X-15A-2 on Oct. 3, 1967, to a top speed of Mach 6.72 (4,520 mph), going faster and higher than any other piloted winged vehicle other than the Space Shuttle, testing at Edwards stands at the bleeding edge of aviation innovation.

Flying operations at Edwards today are complex and diverse and they include ushering in a new era of advanced autonomous uncrewed capabilities that make full use of emerging revolutions in technology, especially artificial intelligence (AI), as well as shepherding new aircraft like the B-21 Raider and T-7A Red Hawk into service. The War Zone sat down with Wickert in his office at Edwards for a detailed discussion covering some of the most important subjects that are impacting USAF flight-testing at this crucial time.

USAF test empire

Wickert began his USAF career as an F-16 pilot, and he has been involved in the military flight-test community for the past two decades, with many accolades including being a professor at the Air Force Academy. His role commanding the 412th Test Wing affords him an overarching, top down overview of all USAF testing. “From here, you are afforded a really good vantage point to assess the state of the test world,” said Wickert.

Brig. Gen. Wickert in his office at Edwards AFB. USAF CHLOE BONACCORSI

The 412th Test Wing at Edwards and the 96th Test Wing at Eglin AFB, Florida, both sit under the umbrella of the Air Force Test Center, which is headed up by Maj. Gen. Scott Cain, and is also headquartered at Edwards. “The test community is relatively small, on both the development test side and the partnering operational test side,” Wickert explained.

“We really have to keep our finger on the pulse to understand, with the finite resources that we have, how we facilitate the greatest return on investment, on time, and on our people. As we look at the work we expect to be running here over the next three years, we think we need as many as 1,600 new personnel to work here in our testing ecosystem. In addition to all of that, we need the right type and number of mission control rooms, chase aircraft, and tanker aircraft. We must balance those needs to make sure that we’re moving everything through smoothly, and so when a system under test is not quite ready, we can rapidly reallocate resources where necessary to achieve success.”

A new Boeing T-7A trainer on test at Edwards AFB. USAF Bryce Bennett

While ensuring the correct physical assets are in place to meet demand, there’s also a pressure to evolve flight testing, which is traditionally an extremely laborious process, but essential in procedure to meet safety and capability targets. “We are looking for opportunities to accelerate our testing,” said Wickert. “Our test ecosystem consists of five key things. Firstly, there’s our ground resources, things like wind tunnels and high-speed test tracks, the Joint Simulation Environment [JSE], which is essentially a digital test and training resource.We also have flight resources, things like one-of-a-kind aircraft that are constructed with built-in string gauges and accelerometers to make them highly instrumented aircraft, so you know exactly what the system under test is doing, to include the mission systems. Then we have our instrumental ranges that we are working to tie together. Here we have a western range alliance, that’s the Pacific Test Ranges near Point Mugu, the Nevada Test and Training Range, and the R-2508 complex.”

“There’s also the data. Particularly now as systems are getting more and more complex, we take terabytes of data off of every single test. Finally, there’s the highly educated people that work here. We have the USAF Test Pilot School at Edwards, we have almost 1,000 engineers, flight-test engineers, these are a national resource in our test engineering group. This is our test ecosystem and each of those elements are ripe for innovative and creative ways to accelerate our testing, and it’s our responsibility to do that.”

An F-22 and F-35A from the Edwards-based test fleet. USAF Kyle Larson

Evolving USAF testing

USAF leadership is looking at an aggressive timeline with regard to the fielding of new platforms such as Collaborative Combat Aircraft (CCAs) amid what the Pentagon calls calls Great Power Competition. Wickert and his team are charged with ensuring the flight-test ecosystem is geared up for efficient means to push such new technologies effectively and efficiently through the rigorous testing that’s needed to field advanced new capabilities.

“Right now we’re at a point as generation AI is coming along and it’s a really exciting time. We’re experimenting with ways to use new tools across the entire test process, from test planning to test execution, from test analysis to test reporting. With investments from the Chief Digital and Artificial Intelligence Office [CDAO] we have approved under Control Unclassified Information [CUI] a large language model that resides in the cloud, on a government system, where we can input a test description for an item under test and it will provide us with a Test Hazard Analysis [THA]. It will initially provide 10 points, and we can request another 10, and another 10, etc, in the format that we already use. It’s not a finished product, but it’s about 90% there.”

“When we do our initial test brainstorming, it’s typically a very creative process, but that can take humans a long time to achieve. It’s often about coming up with things that people hadn’t considered. Now, instead of engineers spending hours working on this and creating the administrative forms, the AI program creates all of the points in the correct format, freeing up the engineers to do what humans are really good at – thinking critically about what it all means.”

“So we have an AI tool for THA, and now we’ve expanded it to generate test cards from our test plans that we use in the cockpit and in the mission control rooms. It uses the same large language model but trained on the test card format. So we input the detailed test plan, which includes the method of the test, measures of effectiveness, and we can ask it to generate test cards. Rather than spending a week generating these cards, it takes about two minutes!”

The X-62A takes off from Edwards AFB. Jamie Hunter

Wickert says the Air Force Test Center is also blending its AI tooling into test reporting to enable rapid analysis and “quick look” reports. For example, audio recordings of debriefs are now able to be turned into written reports. “That’s old school debriefs being coupled with the AI tooling to produce a report that includes everything that we talked about in the audio and it produces it in a format that we use,” explained Wickert.

“There’s also the AI that’s under test, when the system under test is the AI, such as the X-62A VISTA [Variable-stability In-flight Simulator Test Aircraft]. VISTA is a sandbox for testing out different AI agents, in fact I just flew it and we did a BVR [Beyond Visual Range] simulated cruise missile intercept under the AI control, it was amazing. We were 20 miles away from the target and I simply pushed a button to engage the AI agent and then we continued hands off and it flew the entire intercept and saddled up behind the target. That’s an example of AI under test and we use our normal test procedures, safety planning, and risk management all apply to that.”

“There’s also AI assistance to test. In our flight-test control rooms, if we’re doing envelope expansion, flutter, or loads, or handling qualities – in fact we’re about to start high angle-of-attack testing on the Boeing T-7, for example – we have engineers sitting there watching and monitoring from the control room. The broad task in this case is to compare the actual handling against predictions from the models to determine if the model is accurate. We do this as incremental step ups in envelope expansion, and when the reality and the model start to diverge, that’s when we hit pause because we don’t understand the system itself or the model is wrong. An AI assistant in the control room could really help with real-time monitoring of tests and we are looking at this right now. It has a huge impact with respect to digital engineering and digital material management.”

“I was the project test pilot on the Greek Peace Xenia F-16 program. One example of that work was that we had to test a configuration with 600-gallon wing tanks and conformal tanks, which equated to 22,000 pounds of gas on a 20,000-pound airplane, so a highly overloaded F-16. We were diving at 1.2 mach, and we spent four hours trying to hit a specific test point. We never actually managed to hit it. That’s incredibly low test efficiency, but you’re doing it in a very traditional way – here’s a test point, go out and fly the test point, with very tight tolerances. Then you get the results and compare them to the model. Sometimes we do that real time, linked up with the control room, and it can typically take five or 10 minutes for each one. So, there’s typically a long time between test points before the engineer can say that the predictions are still good, you’re cleared to the next test point.”

A heavily-instrumented F-16D returns to Edwards AFB after a mission. Jamie Hunter

“AI in the control room can now do comparison work in real time, with predictive analysis and digital modeling. Instead of having a test card that says you need to fly at six Gs plus or minus 1/10th of a G, at 20,000 feet plus or minus 400 feet pressure altitude, at 0.8 mach plus or minus 0.05, now you can just fly a representative maneuver somewhere around 20,000 feet and make sure you get through 0.8 mach and just do some rollercoaster stuff and a turn. In real time in the control room you’re projecting the continuous data that you’re getting via the aircraft’s telemetry onto a reduced order model, and that’s the product.”

“When Dr Will Roper started trumpeting digital engineering, he was very clear that in the old days we graduated from a model to test. In the new era of digital engineering, we graduate from tests to a validated model. That’s with AI as an assistant, being smarter about how we do tests, with the whole purpose of being able to accelerate because the warfighter is urgently asking for the capability that we are developing.”

Collaborative Combat Aircraft

One of the clearest areas the USAF is looking to accelerate surrounds Collaborative Combat Aircraft (CCAs), a new family of unmanned combat drones that are designed to work in concert with manned fighters and provide a force multiplying, highly autonomous, numerical edge in tactical aerial warfare. The USAF faces an incredibly complex and laborious task when it comes to testing, training with, and fielding CCAs.

“We need to break the problem down, then we need to integrate all the pieces back together, and it has multiple components,” explained Wickert. “There’s the physical challenge of actually getting a CCA to fly. Does it have sufficient thrust? Do we have the right control laws? That’s going to largely be contractor led. Separately, in parallel, we are developing the autonomous agents that will actually be the brains that can take some higher order commands and execute those, at varying levels of autonomy.”

The General Atomics XQ-67A Off-Board Sensing Station is currently in flight-testing with the manufacturer and the Air Force Research Laboratory. General Atomics

Edwards is planned as the USAF’s home of CCA flight-test, and work is commencing to build a new CCA enclave here. “Once it’s mature and it’s ready for integration, it’ll come up here and it will fly from here. We have to actually connect it with a crewed fighter. Those tests have to happen in open air because there’s so many uncertainties, we will need to prove that it actually works in a real world environment. Then there’s weapon integration, that’ll be a separate effort.”

In terms of validating how the CCAs will be employed, much of this modeling will be undertaken in the Joint Simulation Environment (JSE). “Once we have good validated models of how the CCA will work, it’s very easy to take those models and put them into the JSE. Every new program now has to be JSE-compatible and must be able to integrate into digital test. The JSE is not a simulator. There are simulators that plug into JSE, there’s domes you can sit and fly, but the JSE is an architecture that’s perfect for prototyping, developing, and working out how you are actually going to employ.”

“The digital test range runs using the JSE. That’s where we will figure out if a single F-22 pilot can control four CCAs, is that the right number, maybe it’s two, maybe it depends on the scenario. I’ve got a task, you’ve got a threat over there, I need the CCA to create a diversion. All of that will be worked out first in the digital test and training range.”

A flight-test engineer engaged in an F-16D test flight. USAF

“I can easily imagine that F-22 and F-35 pilots will routinely train with CCAs, just like they routinely train with an AIM-120 or an AIM-9X missile without ever actually having the missile leave the aircraft. They will live fly and train with them synthetically around them in a live virtual constructive situation, so I can see how that would work with a tablet. The digital test and training range means we can look at all of these different scenarios, perhaps that’s a 2035 scenario, this is the concept of developing the analysis of alternatives. We can experiment and work out if we were to get say 30 of these new platforms, would it change the game?”

High tempo operations

While the synthetic JSE provides valuable modeling, prototyping and training, actually bringing together real aircraft in live fly test events is critical in proving that different capabilities actually work in the real world. Bringing together a wealth of different aircraft and new systems is a complex and costly affair, and therefore a quartet of large force test exercises has been developed.

“We run Orange Flag from Edwards, plus we have Emerald Flag at Eglin in Florida for the long-range kill and communications elements, we have the 53rd Wing’s Black Flag at Nellis AFB, and also Gray Flag for the Navy, that’s run out of Point Mugu. Some programs that are well funded allow us to bring together lots of different nodes and sensors to test the new capability. There are also less well funded projects that might want to join in and have the opportunity to work in a complex scenario like one of the flag exercises. So really it’s a case of we are throwing a party and you’re invited to come, bring all of your latest and greatest stuff and let’s see what works. That includes Army land systems, Navy ships – the full range of advanced systems.”

This B-2A is assigned to the Edwards AFB test fleet. USAF AFTC Aerial Photographer Christian Turner

“We are busier here at Edwards now than we were in the 1980s. We’re testing the USAF’s newest airplane, the B-21, and at the same time testing the B-52 and all of its new upgrades including new engines and new radar. The USAF’s new trainer, the T-7 Redhawk, is also being tested here, and many other things in between. We call Edwards the center of the aerospace testing universe, but it’s actually more than that, because it’s more than just the USAF flight-test here.”

“It’s very easy to motivate folks because right now is a time of consequence. If you want to know what the USAF of 2027 or 2035 or 2042 looks like, just look in the skies over Edwards Air Force Base because the Air Force that’s flying over Edwards is the Air Force that we’re going to go to war with.”

Editor’s note: The sponsor had no editorial involvement in this article.

Contact the author: [email protected]

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