#cog sci

[art-of-mathematics]

Dr James V Stone - Principles of Neural Information Theory

[route-to-eutopia-if]

Chapter 1 is up!

How many times have you escaped death? How many times have you lived through your borrowed time? Counting has lost its meaning; you are supposed to be dead. And now, death has finally come knocking at your front door.

PLAY Route to Eutopia demo

First update : 24/01/2024 ETA for next update : a month or so.

Link to the main post.

What to expect?

This update contains three parts in total: Prelude, Prologue, and Chapter 1; allow you to explore the world of Eutopia (in a confinement of your mansion.), and the situation your MC has been in for their entire life. Enjoy your adolescent reminiscence, a few flashbacks, a weird dream, and a scary beginning of the end at your expense.

You can also customize your MC's name, sex and gender, appearance, current sexuality and so on.

Since there will only be few necessary variables I need from the players as of now (or in other word, as far as the story goes.) so no worries, this will not be the only time you can customize them, there will be a timeskip in the next few chapters that will allow you to fully develop/customize your MC in a more in-depth fashion. (Stubbles, unnatural hair color, body shape, height, discovered sexuality or more will be available in the next few updates.)

Any issues regarding coding status, unaligned flavored text, grammar errors or just questions about the story itself can be sent via my ASK dm.

Thank you, and see you next time!

[mortala-if]

Mortala, the word, derives from the Latin adjective "Mortalis." meaning "subject to death." Comparable to the English word "Mortal." meaning the same. —

You live in a rotting world. And that's not a metaphor.

You've known that since you can remember. It's a fact that's been drilled into your mind on repeat.

A rotting world that you must not explore. Stay where you are, stay where you're familiar with, stay where you're comfortable— In The Cinders with your older brother.

The Cinders might not look pretty, but it's not horrible. Steer clear of most streets, keep your head down, don't poke around in other people's business, and you'll be fine. You've learned to navigate pretty well, not to toot your own horn.

Plus, you've got a job, and so does your brother. Not good ones, but ones that can, with a joint salary, keep a crumbling roof over your heads. —

Another thing that's been forced into your mind since you were spoon-fed is to never, ever disobey Belamour.

Belamour is a peaceful organization that was made to keep you safe. To do this, they have strict laws in place, and officers crawl over the cities to make sure you follow them. They are not a government, and they make it very known that they are not.

If you fail to obey, you'll get sent to your city's rehabilitation center! Isn't that nice? Or, on the worse side, you can end up in the Belamour Rehabilitation Center all the way in The Frost.

You and your brother made an agreement when you were very little that you would stick together, and neither of you would break any of the rules for fear of being sent to a rehabilitation center.

. . . An agreement your brother broke.

Now you have to find out how to get him the fuck out of there.

Mortala is a 16+ game due to explicit language, violence, death, anxiety, mention of past emotional abuse (not of MC), messy relationships, and more. A detailed trigger warning list will be listed before every chapter.

Customize the flawed main character, ranging from their gender to their style. (Semi-set personality. Set last name and age.)

Make risky choices that might result in you dying or being injured.

Build relationships between characters, romanceable and not.

Finally wipe The Cinders' ashes off you and explore more than just the burnt city you grew up in.

Go against everything you were taught growing up.

Lie to save your (and your brother's) skin.

These characters are not all romanceable, and you will not meet most of these characters until Chapter Two. Also, it's important to note that not all these characters have plot armor. This does not include sub-romances or all the characters you'll interact with.

FINNLEY ROSE. ✩ ---- Finnley has raised you since you were 5, making him 11 when you started to rely on him. You never really understood the gravity of that until you were in your late teenage years, and that's when you really started to appreciate him. You regret things you've said to him, how you've hurt him— and lately, with his absence, that's all you can think about. ---- His skin is a shade lighter than yours, the same textured hair as yours, and he has brown hooded eyes outlined with eyelashes that make you jealous. He stands at 6 feet, 2 inches. (187.96cm)

HIRO LA'EI. ✩ ---- Hiro has been your best friend since you were in diapers. You know everything about him, and he knows everything about you. You genuinely think he might be one of the sweetest people alive, despite what others might assume, and he jumps at the chance to help you with anything. . . ---- He has tan skin, wavy dark brown hair, and pretty doe-like brown eyes. He stands at 5 feet, 10 inches. (177.8cm) ! Option to have a crush on him— it goes nowhere, though.

MEDUSA CALIXTE. ♡ ---- Medusa. What can you say about Medusa? To put it plainly, she's your best friend's ex-girlfriend. She broke up with him and gave no reason. At the time of their relationship, you thought she was. . . interesting, for lack of a better word, and when she left your best friend, it took a huge toll on him, and from the looks of it, it barely affected her. ---- She has russet brown skin, coiled light brown hair, often shoulder-length and worn in dreads, and upturned hazel eyes. She stands at 5 feet, 2 inches. (157.48cm)

MONROE HALILI. ♡ ---- Your brother's best friend. They're concerned, and not just about their best friend. They're observant, annoyingly so, and can tell how bad his leave has affected you. Obviously, due to their status, they've taken it upon themselves to check on you- wanted or not. ---- They have deep tawny skin, curly black hair with white underneath, and dark brown monolid eyes framed with long, naturally curled eyelashes. He stands at 6 feet tall. (182.88cm) ! Option to have a childhood crush on them. (Three-year age gap.)

LIVIA ALARIE. ✩ ---- Monroe's daughter. From what you heard from your brother, she's incredibly timid- Oh, and she's smiled at him. (He wouldn't shut up about it for a week.) You've never seen her or talked to her yet. ---- She has tawny skin, wavy black hair that reaches below her ears, and dark brown almond eyes. She stands at 3 feet, 7 inches. (109.22cm)

VIVIAN DE LA CRUZ. ♡ ---- Your ex. You still think about them occasionally— you don't date someone for 5 years and forget about them even if you want to. You don't like how things ended, but you don't know if you want to see them again. ---- They have warm golden skin, light blue wavy hair, and downturned brown eyes. They stand at 6ft, 1 inch. (185.42cm) ! Details of the past relationship in their character profile.

Character profiles

Hiro La'ei Medusa Calixte Monroe Halili Vivian de la Cruz

Informational posts

The Cities Belamour Organization

Outside of Tumblr links

Playlists Pinterest Demo/Proof of concept

Extra

My other interactive fiction blog @destined-if My personal account @bunnifly

Important

My banner is by Thomas Dubois This interactive fiction is very loosely inspired by The Hunger Games

Thank you for reading ♡

[spoodleydoodley]

Cap'n Cog returns! I've been enjoying pirate media lately and decided the old Captain could do with some newer art, so I re-made him: simplifying, streamlining, and stylizing him to my new skill level~ It was fun to breathe some new life into this Buccaneer Bot Hope you all like this re-make~

[quietwingsinthesky]

if i ever end up writing even’s actual first encounter and adventure with the doctor, one of the running themes is going to be how there aren’t any windows on the ship.

which doesn’t seem like such a big thing at first, but that’s from our point of view, or the doctor’s, because we (and him) know the size of the universe. we know what space is, maybe not entirely, but enough to know the shape of it, yeah? we know what stars look like even when their light is a trillion years and miles away. but there are no windows on this ship. and even has never seen the night sky, has never seen a star or a planet or just the empty space that’s separated from them by feet of metal and a great deal of luck. even has lived their whole life inside, and space is not a thing they can see or touch. it’s an abstract threat beyond their walls. they could not imagine the enormity of it if they tried.

they don’t know the shape of the ship either. imagine someone let you run through a maze and then told you to draw it. you could draw the corridors you walked through and the dead-ends you ran into, but could you for certain say that you ever found the edges of it? that know the walls on the outside look like the walls on the inside? how big is it? and really, what you should be imagining is that your maze is one of a dozen different mazes all tied together with rubber bands, and none of you actually know what the whole thing looks like, and you don’t have time to talk through the walls to figure that out because if you stop moving for too long, the food dispenser at the end won’t give you anything despite reaching your goal because you were too slow, better try harder next time, stop talking and start running.

even isn’t surprised that the tardis is bigger on the inside. it doesn’t hit them until the doctor lets them see the ship they were on from the outside. like a farewell wave, opening the doors of the tardis as she orbits the ship, and even takes in the shape of it first. (they can’t figure out where they lived, where they worked, from the outside. they don’t recognize any of it.)

but then they see everything else, beyond the ship, while the doctor is standing behind them and saying something reassuring, ‘they’ll be alright without you, don’t worry about them, we fixed everything’, absently, kindly, because he knows they need a moment alone to say goodbye but someone has to stand at the controls and the silence gets to him a little too much. doesn’t see that even’s eyes are so, so wide staring beyond the ship at the universe around it.

it’s too big. they panic. they shut themselves inside the tardis.

that’s what gives the doctor pause. makes him waver, here, because even’s good companion material, they’ve got that spark in them that makes them want to help, whatever it takes, (this is what will undo them, eventually.) and he doesn’t want to leave them there. but you can’t just take something out of its natural habitat and expect it to flourish. that’s how you get wilting leaves and patchy coats and enough stress to kill something from heartbreak alone.

‘i can take you back,’ he offers. it’s the last time that’ll ever be true, but if he knew that when he said it, it’d be a very different kind of story. so he doesn’t.

even is shaking. tearing up. scared. elated? hiccuping on little gasps of air. the stars are beautiful, and terrifying, and now that even knows they exist, they can never go back to before they knew.

the doctor is cruel like that. he wants to show you the universe.

but here’s what’s true now and will be true forever: even doesn’t want to go back. i mean, god, could you blame them. one day, in a few years/decades/centuries/after the long way round to the end of the universe and the short trip back, he’s going to tell them that they can either say to his face that they’d rather he’d left them on that ship or they can stop adding it to his list of sins. they won’t be able to.

so they say no.

and they pull the doors back open just a crack, wide enough for one eye, small enough to shut again with the tremble of a hand. and they peek back out at the universe they’ve been living in. they don’t notice the ship, as the tardis breaks her orbit, speeding further and further away to a destination its passengers will never see.

that’s why there are no windows on the ship. well, that, and it wasn’t very well-designed in the first place.

[dandelionmoss]

“Being able to solve a problem" in computer science means being guaranteed to come up with the right answer every time. In contrast, in animal behavior, "being able to solve a problem" means reliably coming up with the right answer at rates significantly greater than chance. So whether a neural network or an animal can solve a problem depends on what you mean by "being able to solve the problem."

Anthony Chemero, Radical Embodied Cognitive Science

[fives-girlfriend]

*checks watch* ah yeah time to be sad about Jesse today

[linisiane]

you know the nerds have made it when the comp sci geek or minecraft Youtuber is the heart throb guy in a band

[peggyao3]

Relic - Pt. 16 "Destroyer of Worlds"

PAIRING: Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen x Unnamed Ambiguous FMC

SUMMARY: ✧ Dreams are messages from the deep ✧ A woman from the unknown comes to Feyd in his dreams and his nights become his days as he flees to the dreamscape to escape the nightmares that haunt his waking hours.

TAGS: Third person POV, she/her AFAB FMC, explicit sexual content, smut, vaginal sex, vaginal fingering, oral sex, Porn with Plot, Feyd-Rautha's black cum and big cock, Praise Kink, Body Worship, angst/hurt and comfort, drama, fluff, plans within plans, implied/referenced child abuse, implied/referenced abuse, Trauma, mentions of suicidal thoughts, Healing, Strangers to Lovers, falling in love, Vulnerable/ Emotional/Possessive Feyd, Feyd is a sweet baby who did nothing wrong and I WILL pamper him, nurture not nature, Stockholm Syndrome but in a consensual way, lucid dreaming, Implied/Referenced Cannibalism, murder, teaching the universe about feminism, female rage, Frank Herbert would frown, No actually he would kneel in front of me, putting the science and the porn in sci-fi, angst with a happy ending

WORD COUNT: 4.3k

A/N: We're really getting there now 🥹🥹🥹 I'm so excited. And I'm very pleased with this chapter 🤭 I can't wait to hear what you think!

Reposted from my Ao3💕| Masterlist | Relic Masterlist

Dividers by @saradika-graphics

← Previous Chapter, Next Chapter →

Day 100

No guards frame the door that is tall and glinting back, just like Feyd had assured her. When she had approached it and passed through it several weeks prior, she thought it may as well lead to hell, but today she is certain of it. Except it won't be Feyd's hell or hers, it will be his.

And he will have no time for tricks.

With her gun of clear, shiny plastic raised in front of her chest, the relic enters Baron Vladimir Harkonnen's bath chambers.

The scented, herbal fog hasn't grown as dense and thick yet and the white, fleshy heap at the center of the tub fills out her sight at once. And unexpectedly, there is movement to the right, not a guard or a servant but Glugo who quivers in a damp basket near the wall.

While the woman's eyes are briefly averted, the Baron's shield flares up around his misshapen form at a flick against the massive, silver band at his middle finger. The smallest and priciest model on the market, Ixian technology.

"I expected my nephew," he drones, voice amplified by the vaulted ceiling but distorted by the shield.

"Hands on the pool edge," the woman demands, voice as cold as cryogenic vapor. Vladimir acquiesces, unable to reach for the transponder behind his ear. An invisible muscle ticks at his fleshy jaw.

"I hold audiences every Freitak," he attempts to jest, arms spread out in mockery as he adjusts them on the slippery edge. "No need to assault me in my own bath chambers."

A blunder, he realizes quickly as her face hardens with rancor. Not a molecule would fit between her clenched teeth.

"You're troubled because of what you saw," he concludes. "It was a mistake." Vladimir concedes all too quickly. His finesse seems to have evaporated along with the curling steam and he realizes he knows nothing substantial about the woman.

"Quite," she confirms curtly, closing in with slow, deliberate steps. The crosshair projected by her interface, only for her eyes to see, dances over the Baron's face, but she won't take any risks. At the center of the vaulted chamber, a generous distance separates them still, but she feels more confident in her aim.

Pulling a trigger is as easy as dropping a bomb. She should have it in her. Her kin have dropped bombs like rainfall back in the slaughterhouse warfare for oil and soil and rare earths.

The Baron gawks at the muzzle, an unassuming hole among glossy, alien plastic. His old eyes might be deceiving him, but he thinks he can see the inner cogs and channels shimmering through the surface, and a metallic component that doesn't belong.

A lasgun! She's either a maniac or an idiot! Or truly a relic of long-forgotten ages, like the sisterhood had said.

He could either deactivate his shield and die certainly, saving the palace and the capital from nuclear fallout, or he could take them down with him, his nephew included.

"You don't want to fire a lasgun at me, kid."

His voice booms and the Tleilaxu creature leaps out of its basket, hand-feet splatting across the damp tiles. Thank God, it flees out the door, the relic thinks. That tiny moment of inattentiveness is enough for Vladimir to flick the switch at the ring on his pointer, a special gift that was given to him just a few days ago, and just in time. Already, he feels safer.

"That's not a normal lasgun." Her attention is back on the Baron and she smiles knowingly. Vladimir despises the self-assured look of it.

"We can find a civilized solution for this," he declares with renewed confidence. Pretending to think, he sways his fatty neck from side to side. "I know my nephew has plenty to offer, so I don't see why we shouldn't be able to share."

She laughs out brightly, a sound like a whiplash across the Baron's heaving chest. "Where I'm from, there's the death penalty for abusers like you. I couldn't build an electric chair, so I brought something else."

"And what have you got there?" Get her talking, he thinks, beady eyes greedily darting for the door.

"Feyd's wedding gift."

"Feyd's wedding—?"

Thumb slipping over the back of the gun, she cocks the hammer.

"Did I understand that correctly? If you miscalculated, this test will cause an atomic explosion?" The memory of a few days prior fills out her mind, easing the terrible anxiety that now dampens her palms. "Yes, but I did not miscalculate." "Then why test it?" Feyd-Rautha had paced anxiously behind her and sized up the heap of towels stacked in the corner of her room, their outline blue and blurred by a softly humming Holtzman shield. "Better to be safe than sorry." "I'd feel sorry if you blew up my planet." "I wouldn't," she had responded with hardness and pulled the trigger. Doing so fires the bullet first, then a fine tuned laser beam from a smaller second muzzle, as light travels faster than matter and the bullet needs more time to reach its target. The double muzzle is calibrated to take the bullet's weight and distance from the target into consideration. Light may have no inherent mass, but photons do transmit impulse. And so the photons that comprise the laser beam collide with the Holtzman shield's nuclei and propel them into motion towards the body they are meant to protect. The beam's impact isn't hard enough to trigger a nuclear chain reaction, but just right to accelerate the nuclei. And by the time the bullet arrives at the crime scene too, its relative velocity to the shield is that of a slow blade. With a thump, the bullet had sunken into the stack of towels.

The door moves at her back and the only reason why she doesn't jump in fright is because she recognizes his footsteps.

"Wait, my darling."

The Baron could weep with joy at the sight of his dear nephew. Not who he had called, but an even more welcome sight. It was he who had given the boy everything; schooling for his cunning mind, planets to govern, blades to play with, toys to warm his heart and his cock with. Everything in exchange for a measly bit of affection!

Feyd-Rautha, dressed from neck to toe with not an inch of skin showing aside from his face and hands, loops his arms around his betrothed's waist, chin tilted and leaning against her temple.

"Let me do it." 

Vladimir pales, shuffling in the sloshing bath water as his nephew gently takes the gun from the cursed woman's hand and closes in like a starved viper. His chest rises beneath the full coverage of his suit.

Desperately, the Baron looks at the door.

"My dear nephew, you're falling for a hoax! Do you want to blow up the city?"

Feyd-Rautha stops, still several meters away from the tub. Vladimir seethes.

Anxiously, the relic observes the jittering path of the digital crosshair, weapon out of her hands and out of her control. As Feyd halts, the red mark settles on the Baron's pasty forehead. His aim is perfect.

"You want me dead, then come closer, at least! Look me in the eyes when you do it, my boy." The Baron's tongue flicks out, grey-pinkish flesh, to wet his bottom lip. He wants him so close that he can see the whites in his nephew's eyes before the city blows up. Stripped naked and unarmed aside from the poison needle in the signet ring on his pinkie, he feels more than ever like a heap of flesh, defenseless and abandoned and to his own surprise, it is the latter that hurts most.

Feyd-Rautha doesn't speak.

"Say something, boy! You've had more than enough chances to do this, but you didn't, and I'll tell you why." The Baron raises himself slightly, bulging chest emerging from the inky water. "You don't want to kill your own un—"

The echo of a bang ricochets off the vaulted ceiling and the Baron finds his head knocked back, vision filled with fractured red, his shield dissolved.

With his head rolled on the tub's edge, he can only see the ceiling, and something wet slips over his brow, into his blurry eye. Vladimir had always thought, when Feyd finally manages to kill him, he would ravage his body with blades, take him apart to the last organ, gorge on his flesh while it is still warm. It had almost aroused him.

But his nephew's final touch — denied. 

How cruel.

"You did it!" His betrothed's arms loop around his waist from behind, the embrace hard and stormy, her face against his spine. Feyd still stares in awe at the corpse of his uncle, massive, white flesh afloat obscenely in the tub.

"I did," he confirms, his voice hard, with tremors around the edges.

Feyd feels like he should perhaps burst into tears or yell, but none of the like wants to come out of his heart. The accomplishment might take a few days to feel real. What is entirely real, however, is the face of his darling as she slides to his front and cups his cheeks, overjoyed. The tears that his eyes are missing in his, shimmer distinctly in hers and before he knows it, she has tilted his face down to hers and pressed her lips on his, comforting and needy.

Anxiety melts under soft kisses and tears track down her cheeks, coloring their lips with salt.

"I see you've done us all a favor."

Feyd and his woman snap apart, staring in horror to the ajar door. A few steps into the chamber stands a figure swathed in black like a bad omen on the battlefield. The Reverend Mother Gaius Helen Mohiam looks appreciatively at the corpse of Baron Harkonnen.

Even through the mesh of her veil, her sharp eyes perceive the wicked twitch of the na-Baron's hands around the gun.

"Hold still!" She commands and Feyd-Rautha's finger freezes at the trigger.

A pop-up blinks in the corner of the relic's interface, signaling the detection of the soundwave pattern she had picked apart a few weeks ago.

"What are you doing here?" The relic hisses, fingers screwed around Feyd's dangling wrist. She looks a tad haggard compared to when the Reverend Mother had last seen her, with a touch of madness in the eyes.

"My presence was requested by the late Baron and he was right to do so."

"Your presence?" Feyd's voice rings out in distaste, aiming for mockery but rage oozes from every strained muscle. The Reverend Mother sees in him a toddler on the verge of a tantrum.

"I wasn't any less surprised than you are, Baron Feyd-Rautha." She tilts her head and with her moves the crass shadow thrown by her oblong headpiece. "That's how I knew the gravity of the situation. Your uncle was beginning to feel a bit uneasy. He had a feeling you were plotting something, so he requested my help, thinking I was the only one who could."

"But you are too late," Feyd barks, fingers clenching helplessly around the gun. "He's dead!"

"He is. And yet, I arrived perfectly on time." The Reverend Mother calmly crosses her hands in front of her body.

"You could have intervened and didn't?" Horror much bigger than when she had the Baron at gunpoint rises to the relic's chest.

"I must confess, I was… curious." Gaius Helen Mohiam waits but the younger woman remains silent. "How did you do it?"

The engineer laughs out, a sound that's shrill and unpleasant from her clamoring heartbeat. "Sure, I'll tell you and give away the single most valuable piece of information in the universe."

The Reverend Mother purses her lips. The truth is, she had made her decision the second the bullet had passed through the Baron's shield. That knowledge must die and not even reach the ears of her own sisters. Temptation brings out the worst in humans and careful plans are traded all too easily for short-lived power.

Perhaps Feyd-Rautha knows too, but he is a force they can control. The wildcard however has no place among them.

"This must not come out," the Reverend Mother declares, her tone a whiplash.

The glint in the wayward woman's eyes tells her everything she needs to know. The terrible relic is not horrified by the idea of throwing the world off balance. She embraces the potential of destruction like a tumor the flesh it feasts on. Thousands of years of selective breeding are at risk at the whims of one wicked catalyst.

"I think maybe it should," the relic snarks. 

"You're an abomination!" Mother Mohiam snaps. "You should have stayed in the ice like the fossil you are."

"You shouldn't have thawed me then. This is your doing!"

And this is why the Reverend Mother must undo it. "There is no place for you here," she coldly proclaims.

"Then watch me make one! I'll carve, dig and shoot a mold for myself and if I end up destroying something on the way, I'm not sorry."

"That I can see, and that is precisely why there is no place for you in this world."

Feyd-Rautha stands at his betrothed's side, a shackled guard dog watching the heated exchange between witch and scientist, between the present and the past which might become the future once more.

"It is a pity," the Reverend Mother continues. "But there will be more opportunities to continue this bloodline." She tilts her head, sharp eyes locked onto the relic through the shroud of her veil. "Kill yourself."

Her interface flashes red, a warning at the center of her vision. For a brief moment, all joy fades from her eyes, all hope, and to end her own life seems to be the only logical consequence — until the code sequence she had programmed weeks prior is triggered into action, playing an opposing sound pattern directly into her skull.

Sound waves meet in destructive interference and only a dull, sad ache behind her sternum remains.

Mother Mohiam grows cold with terror when the abomination remains unmoving and smiles.

"You're full of surprises." The Reverend Mother's tone carries a hint of begrudging admiration. Underestimating her is a mistake she won't make again. The woman whose only ability of notable importance seemed to have been prescient dreams had somehow bested her command. But it doesn't matter. There is never only one way to the goal.

Feyd-Rautha realizes that too, but a second too late.

"Kill her."

The na-Baron slackens and turns, soulless eyes holding no recognition. She releases his wrist. Terror devours her when Feyd-Rautha points the gun at her forehead. And just like before, his aim is perfect. A red glow, visible only to her, bleeds into her vision from between her eyes and she remembers.

He aims with the gun that is linked to her brain. The trigger clicks only half a second after she jams it via remote control.

No bullet breaches her skull and the relic stumbles away from her love who stares at the handgun in confusion, pulling the trigger three more times before discarding the weapon with a dissonant clatter. A muscle tics at his jaw, cat like eyes narrowing into slits and he reaches for his belt. Glinting steel emerges from its sheath, a hissing purr. Her betrothed prowls.

"Feyd, don't—" She pleads, backing away with quickening steps. There is nowhere to go, only the tub where she could hide herself behind the Baron's floating corpse. "It's me, you don't want to kill me. You love me!"

"He doesn't know that," Mother Mohiam coldly reminds her and the relic glares hatefully.

"You're destroying his life!" She sobs, stumbling over the steps that lead up to the bathtub and falling on her bum. "How can you live like this? You're the abomination! He will kill you in revenge, he'll blow up your whole planet!"

Her beloved towers right over her, head crowned by a corona of glowglobe shine, his chiseled features entirely calm, innocent.

"Do it!"

"I'm sorry," she cries. "I love you."

Feyd grabs her by the front of her shirt as she tries to roll away. She squirms and sobs pathetically, helpless with no further tricks up her sleeve, no hidden blade or gun, no voice of her own to wield against him or her.

The Reverend Mother raises her chin in triumph, but all of a sudden, there is movement at the door, at the unsuspecting witch's back.

Mikhail Kyelug comes flying through the door, sword flung out in a wide arch. Right after him sprints Lilia, with Glugo clutching her hand.

The Reverend Mother spins in surprise, lips open, but her words are severed along with her head, terrible voice silenced forever as Mikhail's blade cleaves through her neck and spine with an awful crack. The world spins together with her head. The headpiece comes off, giving away thinning, grey hair. Voicelessly, she curses that her last ever sight is Baron Vladimir's Harkonnen's bloated face, dead eyes locked with dead eyes.

Feyd-Rautha whips around from the racket, blade quivering in his clenched fist. The relic's nails have dug inky crescents into his wrist. For a moment, no one moves and three humans and one humanoid wait with bated breath for Feyd to drop the blade.

But the voice is no link to be severed by the wielder's death, it is a temporary alteration of the brain, and so Feyd's face remains empty, shark eyes glaring at the intruders. Mikhail sees it too.

"Back! Back I say!" He roars and barges like a bull. Feyd-Rautha releases the woman's shirt, facing the threat that is bound to crash into him with hissing metal.

Blades collide.

Lilia jumps over the Reverend Mother's corpse and dashes past the fighting pair to  collect her weeping Lady from the steps. Glugo's hand-feet splatter after her with haste and it picks up the discarded gun, cradling the devious, shiny thing protectively against its misshapen chest.

Glugo had known right away, when it scuttled past the tall, old witch in the hallway and she had commanded it in that terrible voice to leave, that she meant harm. So, it had ran as fast as it could and pulled at Lilia's hands and skirt, because Lilia would know what to do. 

The three of them huddle down in the corner, the relic crying into Lilia's chest. Glugo slips a quivering hand-foot into her palm but its milky eyes are aimed at the center of the room where its friend and Mikhail are grappling and grunting.

By the Sun, the na-Baron fights like a demon! His pupils are shrunken into pinpricks and his mouth is pulled apart into a gashing grin. Mikhail's armor is torn at the shoulder and black blood weeps down his armpit. Every next parry burns as if his muscles were about to tear apart and with the rush of pain comes a rush of clarity.

Fists, not blades. 

Mikhail drops his blood-slick sword and catches the na-Baron's wrist, stopping the tip of the blade centimeters away from his neck. Roaring, he shoves the na-Baron backwards until he collides into the wall and slams the taller man's wrist against the tiles, once, twice. Feyd's blade slips out of his twitching fingers and clatters to the ground as his lips skin back from glinting, black teeth in anger.

Mikhail doesn't hesitate. He drives his thick-knuckled fist into the na-Baron's guts like a battering ram. Wearing no armor, Feyd doubles up, spitting saliva across his own chest. Ringed hands grasp at Mikhail's chest plate, attempting to hurl the guard to the ground, but Mikhail's boot crashes into Feyd's pelvis and scarred knuckles find Feyd's soft cheek. Skin splits open and his molars sink into the soft flesh inside his mouth.

"Stop, stop, stop!" Feyd blurts out, choking on spit and blood, hands raised in the air as Mikhail's final blow cracks across his jaw. He lurches to the ground and rolls on his back in defeat, his eyes clear and wide in terror.

"My Lord," Mikhail pants, raising his bloodied fists in a shaky salute.

"I— I didn't—" Feyd's head turns to the corner where both women are huddled up, Glugo in front of them, clutching the handgun in one of its oily-black hands.

"My darling," Feyd rasps, spluttering blood. "I nearly killed you."

"It's not your fault," she sobs immediately and frees herself from Lilia's embrace. The pair meet in the middle and her arms whip around his neck, his around her waist and he squeezes her until he feels her very heartbeat against his own, convincing himself that she's still alive.

Their foreheads fall against each other and she gently cradles his aching jaw, thumb stroking under the bleeding cut on his cheek. Feyd-Rautha's long, lowered lashes cast shadows across his eyes and something dark and bitter flashes in them.

"No," she insists immediately and her tone forces his eyes back on hers. She won't allow him to hate himself for something he almost did. "We're alive and they're dead. This is our victory."

Next to Feyd-Rautha and his Lady, Lilia has rushed over to her husband, making an endearing fuss over the wound on his shoulder and his bruised hands. Deft fingers have unclipped the shoulder piece and tugged the cut fabric apart to inspect length and depth of the laceration.

"S'fine, my darlin'," Mikhail rasps with exhaustion and slings his good arm around her middle, pulling her into him to place mindless kisses atop of her head.

The relic peeks over Feyd's shoulder and unlatches one hand from her beloved, beckoning for the pair to come closer. "Thank you," she sighs with tear-thick voice.

Lilia confidently seizes the offered hand, thumb brushing comfortingly over her Lady's knuckles. Mikhail stands awkwardly behind her, one hand on Lilia's waist, not daring to touch the woman of higher standing so affectionately. "My Lady."

Feyd-Rautha releases his woman after all and turns to face his saviors. At once, the guard and the handmaid drop to one knee before him and lower their heads in devotion.

"Baron Harkonnen," they mumble in unison and a muscle twitches across Feyd-Rautha's cheek.

"No," he interrupts with grating tone. "Stand up!"

The pair obey, glancing up with confusion as they raise themselves. Feyd-Rautha regards them with a long glance and exhales deeply, then slowly kneels in front of them, pale head rolling forwards until his eyes are trained on the ground.

"Thank you," he says. "You saved her life, and mine."

"My Lord," Mikhail mutters, overwhelmed and looks to the Lady for help while squeezing Lilia's waist. "It was only our duty, eh?" He insists but that is hardly true. Not duty but friendship had hastened their steps and fueled his fists when they barged into the room.

Glugo can no longer contain itself and scuttles over on hasty hand-feet, mewling with worry as it flings four of its eight limbs at Feyd's chest, tugging on the thick fabric while pressing its misshapen pug face against his sternum.

Feyd winces when shiny plastic is waved about right next to his face and he tries to capture the gun out of Glugo's innocent, little hand-foot while cradling the creature's head with one big, pale hand.

"It's jammed," his betrothed reassures him. "Come here, give that to me, hm?" Gently, she grasps the weapon and places it back in its holster.

"Hush, hush," Feyd mumbles and allows himself in a moment of vulnerability to rest his bruised cheek atop Glugo's head while his darling softly squeezes his shoulder.

"It is actually Glugo who deserves your gratitude, my Lord," Lilia reveals and Feyd holds the glugging creature a bit tighter. "It came to me crying and begging and I knew you needed us."

Glugo doesn't know exactly why everyone smells so much of tears and joy, but it knows it did something right and that it is surrounded by the kindest beings it has ever known.

"I wouldn't go near," the relic remarks, stopping Feyd whose prowling footsteps have carried him closer to the round tub in which the fleshy, white mountain of his uncle's corpse still floats, unmoving. "He's radioactive."

"I won't," Feyd grates out, plush lips skinned back from his teeth in distaste. He feels none of the morbid fascination he had always assumed he would feel when his uncle is finally dead by his hands, only a grim, long-awaited sense of accomplishment. Turning his head, he finds Glugo tugging curiously on the dead Reverend Mother's dress. The poor thing does have a penchant for liver after all. Feyd clicks his tongue. "Don't touch that!" 

Glugo scuttles away and back to Lilia's outstretched hand. It will receive a proper victor's feast later, something more worthy of its bravery than an old witch's, rotting corpse.

"I want the bodies completely eradicated, both of them," Feyd demands. Lest they return as Gholas, a voice of paranoia whispers to him, but he is all too happy to listen.

"How?" His woman curls her arm around his middle and Feyd pulls her to his chest, inhaling the scent of her hair before he makes a decision.

"Burn it down," he rasps. "Burn down the whole wing."

In the afternoon hours, the citizens, guards and slaves of Barony are left gawking and gasping, faces turned in shock towards the colossal palace pyramid where vicious smoke curls from the very top, black claws against the crass, white sky. At the na-Baron's behest, no one is to extinguish the wrathful flames. 

Proudly, he watches it burn, the place that holds two decades worth of abuse. The biting smoke soars towards the stars, like the herald of a new age.

I am Time (Death), cause of destruction of the worlds, matured And set out to gather in the worlds here. Even without thee (thy action), all shall cease to exist, The warriors that are drawn up in the opposing ranks.

- Krishna in the Bhagavad Gita

A/N: Killed the baddies with the power of friendship and science 🥹 (2 more chapter to come)

FEYD TAG LIST

@nostalgichoya, @forgedfromthestars, @sweetiee-o, @missbingu, @minedofmoria

@sebastianswallows, @charmingballoon, @flower-frog, @welliah, @aoi-targaryen

@coastalcowgirl35, @esolean, @szapizzapanda, @tatertooted, @sunny747

@ughdontbeboring, @meetmeatyourworst, @gravesdiggergirl

[witchofthesouls]

I'm going to follow up on the fantasy-horror thoughts to be expanded Transformers, so-

Medical/Biological Horror

I haven't really seen takes about established Cybertronian medical biology and the complications with the "humans into Cybertronians" trope.

Like we see the heavy emphasis on T-cogs across the iterations and how it's deeply connected to independence, identity, and person-hood, so how about an ex-human that lacks a T-cog?

Ironically, T-cogs have a lot of emphasis on that particular organ is similar to human hearts in terms of emotional, cultural, physical, and physical capabilities and significance. Similar to how humans are capable of donating hearts to others, Cybertronians can perform an equivalent procedure with T-cogs. (On a related side note, the phenomenon of 'cellular memory' has to be extremely appalling to the mechanical species. Not in the sense of upcycling parts, but in the sense that the organs, frame, and equipment still retain the echos of the last person to the point that it influences the new body.)

Imagine that once human inside a medbay as the medics tutted and sadly inscribe their new medical file about their new monoformer status. What a shame, they said. They could have been an excellent addition to (insert whatever frame kibble visible that correlates to a function), they said. Poor thing! With that kind of extrasensory equipment, they'll be a walking target, they said.

So that monoformer with no kibble or those visible beastformer traits without the means to completely escape... What. A. Shame.

Until a random Cybertronian sees that monoformer casually wheeling around with heelies. It's easy to wave away as a reinvention of training wheels, but then they notice those heelies disappear back into the monoformer's frame. The ex-human still has no T-cog. Sweat breaks out because said ex-human had done the fucking impossible.

They're paying closer attention now. They're seeing little micro-transformations happening. The subtle signs of a frame shifting to accommodate an area or space, the way fingertips would sharpen too easily with a file or with a raw cut as a tip is used to scrape away at something, the seams expanding and contracting, so something is happening, they just can't tell...

While this can overlap with the body/psychological horror aspect, I say we should take it more extreme. There had been takes with dysphoria, particularly with the play between mechanical parts and human organs, the differences in senses, and if 'sticky sexual interfacing' is part of it, then sexual hardware of both sets.

However, what about acceptance? The exploration of feeling truly at home in your own new skin? Even if it's high-tech and something out of a sci-fi film/video game with a platform that's incomprehensible because you don't understand the language it uses, but guess what? You can download a packet to fully comprehend a new language. You may not be fluent or comfortably at ease with speaking, but you can read and understand what's being said. A possibility of delving into human disabilities that translate into something easily curable or nonexistent or have well-established accommodations in a Cybertronian framework. Something like hormonal disorders or gastrointestinal issues due to upset gut biome would be wiped clean. Poor/limited eyesight can be compensated with a visor that can't be easily removed or taken away or the additional sensors that provide environmental data. Cybertron has a form of sign language with chirolinguistics where communication is done "by stimulating the nervecircuits in the fingers, wrist and palm of their conversational partner. It seems to be fairly common to know at least a little hand." TFWiki page And it pairs well with internal comms that double as cell phones or an unique user on platform where a Cybertronian can live chat or text another.

A massive tradeoff for this kind of comfort? You now have a visible soul.

Think about it, your soul can be directly handled, as in someone can physically go mess with your most distilled sense of self.

Humanity had long debated the existence of it via philosophy, spiritually, scientifically as well. The heart is the most recent popular choice, but major historical contenders had been the stomach and the mind as well as arguments of the soul isn't found in one specific organ but rather the bridge between them.

People swear by souls and the afterlife. There are many myths and legends that involve souls. Even the most doubtful had been deeply raised in a cultural framework of the concept via media usage, figurative speech, religious imagery, and depictions in art.

That has to be the most mind-blowing and deeply unsettling reality a former human must accept.

I see the comparisons of sparkeaters to vampires as they both prey on the living, but the more apt description should be the product of Harry Potter with Dementors as those Dark creatures eat souls.

So this touches on another genre-

Supernatural Horror

Human adaptability combined with the Earth transformation myths/magic would deeply terrify modern Cybertronians as those new cybered beings don't fit the established medical reality they function with.

This can easily tie very well with expanding Cybertronian folklore of otherworldly beings of their version of fae, demons, spirits, or yōkai. Beautiful, terrible beings that mimick Cybertronians too well... unless to look closer: the shadow missing or not matching (can be tied to Unicron), conflicting kibble, EM fields too wild with a chaotic rhythm no one else can match, colors that change to suddenly, a strange wardrobe (made of deaf creatures) that ripples and warps without a breeze, an mechanimal with too much intelligence glittering in its optics...

I'm not even fully delving into the rampant chaos of ex-humans having a host of adaptations suited for tolerating far more ranges of environmental stress and disease-resistance due to the rapid evolution by organic life compared to Cybertronian fauna. Remember, humans are animals. Highly intelligent apex predators that specialize in endurance/persistent pursuit with strong social and communal behaviors, and the cleverness to suit the environment from aquatic to deserts to wetlands to forests to grasslands to tundra. Humanity found ways to not just survive but to thrive in those biomes.

This opens a potential storyline where cybered humans become Cybertron's extremophiles, so that can easily translate into those beings capable of manipulating their own selves to a multitude of frames and shapes.

The example above with the human to monoformer was a show in how transformation mechanisms could be different between the species. If T-cogs are an inherently modern Cybertronian biological trait, then cybered!Earth natives should be either throwbacks or have another approach to it.

And that's the more muted fuckery, but what about straight-up transformations that were deemed unthinkable? Where unnatural formations keep twisting upon themselves, collapsing just to rise higher and higher? The sudden appearance of not one or two extra limbs, but dozens, even hundreds without a sequence as they try to compute how the hell they pull all that mass from nowhere? Armor plating, sure and steady, then turning into a substance that swallows everything and anything as a solid becomes a liquid.

The repression technology may or may not even work as it targets the frame's T-cog. What can it do to a mecha that doesn't have one?

Another aspect overlooked is the animal-human relationship in domestication of wild animals or how communities form symbiotic relationships with different kinds of wild fauna. Combined humanity's collective love for highly dangerous creatures... Wouldn't it be absolutely sick as hell if cyber!human got a sparkeater as their companion? It's still a wild 'animal,' not a fully tame one like a domesticated animal, so they're trying to tedtalk on a human's approach to curating a stable relationship with a predatory species while the rest of the Cybertronians are basically dead-white from sheer fright.

Or on the opposite yet equally delightful spectrum of said exhuman caring for orphaned creatures that reminds them of human pets (like a bunny or a mouse), but those 'cute babies' usually cause massive structural damage to city-states and a known mech-killer. Something like a Scraplet (because, let's be real, deep in your heart, you know a person that would try to keep it as a pet and succeed at it), so their tedtalk about behavioral training, 'reasonable precautions,' and emotional/physical fulfillment is filled with scientists who's curiosity (slightly to completely) overtakes any sense of self-preservation.

[dalekowrites]

What would your favourite choice of the games interactive stories be? Would you have a favourite type? Romance, Fantasy etc. and did any of the inspire you with the ones you are currently writing? 😁

Oh boy! This is going to be a long answer, brace yourself lol

Let me start by saying that I have a degree in English literature (in fact, I'm going to do a PhD on it), so reading, in general, is one of the core activities of my life.

As for text adventures, even if not from Choice of Games Ltd., I'd like to mention a few inspirations: my passion first came from the original Choose Your Own Adventure series, and I still remember which numbers obsessed me as a child: Mountain Survival #28, The Dragons' Den #33, and more than any other, Space Patrol #22! (The latter may have also fueled my unhealthy obsession with Star Trek TOS, actually). For those unfamiliar with this fantastic book series, the genres of the three books I mentioned are, respectively, adventure, fantasy, and sci-fi. This gives you an idea of how varied my tastes are...

Later on, I discovered interactive fictions and text adventures. Dude, it was a dream come true. I started with Adventure ('76, never finished it, of course) and Zork ('79, never finished that either… of course. How damn hard were they?!). Then Mystery Mansion ('78), Castle Adventure ('82), and too many, many others. I'm a sucker for Sorcery! from inkle, and I deeply loved Magium (RIP Chris, you won't be forgotten). For my Italian-speaking friends, I also really enjoyed the Fra Tenebra e Abisso series (although its current status is unknown).

But back to CoG-related things. I've read a lot, and I'd probably be faster telling you what I didn't like! As you may have figured out by now, I don't have any particular genre preferences as long as a story is well-written, though horror-thriller stories usually grab my attention more easily.

Important note: I've read a lot of stories and, with a few exceptions, I liked most of them. To avoid writing a too-long list, here are the published stories that really impressed me:

A Crown of Sorcery and Steel,

A Midsummer Night's Choice,

Blood for Poppies,

Blood Moon,

Broadway: 1849,

Choice of the Cat,

Choice of the Vampire,

Donor,

Doomsday on Demand (1 and 2),

Gilded Rails,

Golden Rose: Book One,

Jazz Age,

Lies Under Ice,

Life of a Mercenary,

Life of a Space Force Captain,

MetaHuman Inc.,

Noblesse Oblige,

Paradox Factor,

The Evertree Saga (all four books),

Rent-a-Vice,

Revolution Diabolique,

Siege of Treboulain,

Tally Ho,

The Daily Blackmail,

The Dragon and the Djinn,

The Fernweh Saga: Book One,

The Fog Knows Your Name,

The Gray Painter,

The Grim and I,

The Ghost and the Golem,

The Lost Heir,

The Midnight Saga: The Monster,

The Parenting Simulator,

The Play's the Thing,

The Soul Stone War (1 and 2),

The War for the West,

Tudor Intrigue,

Vampire Regent,

Vampire: The Masquerade (all of them),

Way Walkers: University (1 and 2),

Welcome to Moreytown,

Werewolves: Haven Raising,

Zombie Exodus,

Zombie Exodus: Safe Haven.

And now, onto works in progress! There aren’t that many because I barely have time to follow my own (heh…), so here, in alphabetical order, are the ones I'm following with the most interest:

Adoriel's Tears (@adoriels-tears-if),

A Father's Love (@kal-down),

Crown of Ashes and Flames (@coeluvr),

Dawn Chorus (@dawnchorus-if)

Disenchanted (@disenchantedif),

Dragon's Edged (@dragonedged-if),

Elysium (@elysiumcircusif),

Fallen Lights (@fallenlightsif),

For King and Country (@forkingandcountry-if),

From The Ashes We Rise (@kal-down),

Hubris (@hubris-the-if-game),

Kingdoms and Empires (@kingdoms-and-empires),

Return to Misty Cove (@fluorescent-if),

The Abyssal Song (@ri-writes-if),

The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes - An affair of the heart (@doriana-gray-games),

The Lonely Shore (@thelonelyshore-if),

The King's Hound (@the-kingshound),

The Reaper Watches Me (@thereaperwatchesme),

The Bureau (@thebureau),

The Unseelie (@theunseelieif),

Van Helsing (@vanhelsing-if),

When Life Gives You Lemons (@when-life-gives-you-lemons-if).

Okay, that was… a lot. As for direct inspirations, I don't have any direct ones, but I can say I felt like writing a post-apocalyptic story after reading Doomsday on Demand! Other than that, I guess the collection of narrative, text adventures, and interactive fiction I've read have led me to where I am now.

Damn, it took me hours to write this answer. I hope it's satisfying at least! Thanks for asking ☺

[sparklecarehospital]

HI COMETCARE FANS. for the past couple months ive been working on designs for some side characters and i wanted to share them publicly (because i've done that before and it's fun :3)

aster is one of sly's online friends, he's an artist like sly and works on a ferrie webcomic. they do a lot of commission art and afford to live on their own because of it. he also really likes space stuff, which is where their comic takes place!

mars is a kid at the comet's high school. she's into sci-fi movies and books. she seems to have a secret of some kind...

crayola is another kid at their school. he's a paint artist and does abstract art and such.

pinch is soob's boyfriend, he's a (semi) professional clown! he's super silly and loves to prank people, like using his balloon-self to create static electricity and zap people!

jerry is another one of sly's online friends. he is also an artist really into warrior cogs, and he just really loves cogs in general. he volunteers at a ferry shelter and loves to care for cogs and other small ferries.

pinch is my personal favorite. you can probably see why!!!

[doshi-sukiru]

Divergent au

Yeah..so I made a new au so here we go-

Part 2!

this one I don't think I'll make a fic out of, mainly because I'm already trying to get back to my shadowpeach one (I have NOT forgotten, uni is just a bitch and for some reason I'm procrastinating too much which is scaring me but I can't stop it it's awful-)

So, this was something @/angstychilz and I discussed one day in our megop server and it was basically "what if Megatron and a few other decepticons got captured by the Quintessons while they were on the surface?"

And of course I'm in a chokehold so now you're forced to deal with this horrifying au I twisted with my knowledge of sci-fi / doctor horror.

**TW!! I might get a bit graphic with some details so please tread carefully! I don't want to scare any of you with what I have for this au, it is disturbing in some areas**

So, to start, I've considered that for now, Megatron, Soundwave, and Blitzwing would all be taken by the quintessons to be experimented on, mainly to help the quintessons understand their anatomy and to use it to their advantage in order to help conquer Cybertron (suggestions for other bots to be taken and experimented on is welcome!)

Of course, it is considered that they are different species, and in a way I believe that the quints would see cybtronian's as lesser beings (especially seeing how they managed to persuade sentinel easily with the idea of having more power in return for killing the primes and providing them with energon). This would play a big part during their experimentations, especially with Megatron because he carries a Prime's cog, that too Megatronus's, who was definitely one of their biggest enemies.

Megs and the others are kept with other mechs, some dead some alive, and they all go through terrible transformations (I'm still deciding how to ruin blitz, especially with his split personality).

I'll just summarize how Soundwave's transformation becomes bc it's really easy- he just goes from tfone sound to tfp sound (angsty's idea), since he has moveable cables similar to the quint's tentacles. He is still in control of his body and mind, and even holds conversations with Megatron to give him some sense of normality between them, but will black out whenever the quints need him to go scout on cybertron to avoid autobot patrols and seek out new victims.

Megatron's treatment I have more detail on (and why wouldn't I, he's my comfort character I need to detail his agony-). There is no anesthesia, Megatron is staying awake as they tear through his chassis and tear out the cog, forcing him to go back to his cogless form. I will also add that before he was taken, he also lost his right arm in the fight before capture, so he's dealing with two types of pain.

Through that the quints learn that mech body's can shift, so while Megs is sent to recover with the other bots they grab some poor mech and experiment with their cog, and they take their time just experimenting on how to make a cog of their own. This also includes them doing several types of dissections on a lot of mechs, pulling and twisting wires, tearing apart limbs and then forcing them to reconnect after forcing the mechs to transform. Keep in mind none of them are under anesthesia, so it's like an old victorian surgery, you're awake and watching a bunch of aliens piercing through you, dismembering you and forcing you to stay still as they go through your systems and organ parts, and even through your spark (guess how you think they learned that was what kept them alive).

Through all that, once they get some form of a twisted, functional cog that mimics an original one, they immediately do everything they did to those mechs to megatron.

By then, he's no longer filled with rage, but fear. Indescribable fear of whether or not he'd survive this. He was a miner once, and while he had his moments he was always assured by Orion he'd be fine and he'd be safe. Orion's not here anymore, and most of the time Sound isn't either, so he's stuck spiraling in fear.

Obviously he's more resistant against them, but he can't fight them anymore. At the same, his helm is forced open, leaving his core processor open for them to dig in and used what memories he has to twist him into a more submissive mech, especially his momentary regret that he got when he shot Orion, and later after dropping him to die. He's forced to endure several procedures, most that left him bleeding out or vomiting blood to the point of exhaustion, and waking up in a tank only to be pulled and put through it again. And again. And again. And again.

Until- they get it right. Now, he looks like a normal mech, similar frame and shape, but with changes. His frame color no longer is a silver/grey hue, it's green with how often he's kept in the dirty cells or in the tanks. His arm got replaced, but with a quintesson-like arm. His voicebox is damaged from the constant tests, so he speaks very little before his voice gets glitchy and incomprehensible.

His body, while accepts the cog and gives him a new alt (flier), will still reject it after a long period of time (consider it between every 8-10 orbital cycles/months), which causes internal bleeding and erratic movement from his body, often times leaving him disfigured and in agony when it occurs. This can range from his body trying to transform mid-form into his alt, to whole on twisting his limbs, or both.

I'll open my inbox for you guys again for this au, I'll do a part 2 for orion's part. But yeah, here's my twisted horror au that I keep a latch on. hahaha-

Bonus art!

[in-another-april]

─ movie date | s.r

summary/prompt - spencer invites you to his apartment to watch one of his russian sci-fi films with him | fluff

warnings - small mention of burns

wc - 735

notes - this was inspired by me rewatching and falling in love with awkward early seasons spencer all over again 😭

────────────────

 You sink deeper into the brown leather couch as the alarm of the microwave rings out behind you. Tilting your head back, you watch as Spencer empties the freshly popped popcorn into a bowl. You let out a soft chuckle as you see him holding the steaming bag as gingerly as possible to avoid burning his hand, a practically inevitable occurrence whenever he prepares food, his clumsy nature almost never failing to bring a fond smile onto your face.

“Need any help?” Your question makes him look from over his shoulder at you.

“Oh, I got it.” He shakes his head before pausing. “Thank you, though.” He rushes to add with an awkward smile, hoping you can’t tell how painfully out of his element he was.

So far, you two had been seeing each other outside of work for a few weeks, but you had yet to meet up at either of your respective apartments. He’d like to think he presented himself as “cool and collected” as Derek had coached him to be when you first suggested the idea of going to his place for a movie date, but he knew he was done for as soon as you mentioned wanting to watch the Russian sci-fi film he had been eagerly rambling about on the jet. He finds himself struggling to even think about the way your eyes light up with genuine curiosity whenever he goes on one his tangents without his face heating up. You’re going to be the death of him, he swears.

You can’t help the cheerful smile that makes its way onto your face as Spencer finally sits down next to you, after some fiddling with the TV and disc. You think for a moment before offering the other half of the blanket laid on your lap to him. His face turns red as he stares dumbly for a moment before happily accepting his side of the soft material, sliding closer to you. He’s eager to start the movie, in hopes it’ll serve enough of a distraction so you don’t notice the blush on his face getting brighter from simply being in your proximity.

He almost forgets he’s supposed to be translating for you until he sees the expectant look on your face after the first few lines pass. He mutters a quick apology before clearing his throat and reciting the words as they come, voice low as to minimize the disruption to the experience as much as possible. As the minutes pass, Spencer feels his nerves calm and breathing steady as he finds himself slotted securely back into his comfort zone: rattling off information regarding subjects he’s passionate about.

That is, until he feels the slight weight of your head against his shoulder, cuddling up to him like it’s second nature. His body instinctively tenses up under the contact, halting his translations as he stares off into space, cogs turning in his head as he tries to understand how his mind can feel blank while simultaneously housing so many rushing thoughts.

You lift your head off him slightly, turning to meet his eyes. “Oh, I didn’t mean to make you comfortable, I’m sorry.” You say, cursing yourself for being too forward. “I can move-”

“No!” Spencer interjects quickly, cringing at how desperate it made him come off. “I- sorry, I didn’t mean to sound so, uh, I just meant to say…” The deep breath he takes only serves to fluster him more as it ends up being just a whiff of your perfume. “You don’t have to move, I don’t mind.” Is what he settles on, trying his best to read your expression as he stares up at you.

“Are you sure?” You’re not sure why you ask, but you still revel in the sweetness of his answer.

“I’m positive. I’d… prefer it, really.” He shyly admits, looking everywhere except your eyes. “O-Only if you want to, of course.”

He’s happy to see that answer satisfied you, returning to your position leaning against him. You don’t think it’s possible for your smile to grow bigger, but you prove yourself wrong as you feel him hesitantly wrap his arm around you, pressing his head against yours. He resumes his whisper translations, but you’d have to admit that the movie is lost in the back of your mind as you opt to focus your attention on the man sitting next to you.

[janeallover]

teasing and fucking u in the morning <3

hiiiii guys. basically i grope your tits and rub between your legs with my thigh while making you have a normal conversation with me. then i finger you, and then fuck you with a rabbit.

word count: 2920

“So, what else do you have to get done today to feel good enough to go out tonight?” I say, breaking apart from our kiss.

My leg is slung across your thigh delicately and deliberately, close enough to your core that you know what's coming, but far away enough that you want more. My hands are on your sides, underneath my t-shirt that you’re wearing, my hold on you securing what you already know; I’m in control right now. 

“Well, I need to work on my cog sci essay for at least two hours. I want to take my meds soon so I can really focus.” 

As you’re talking, I’m inching my hands up your body. You know I want to make you nervous, and you don’t give me what I want yet. Your tone is cool and calm, although your body gives away a slight twitch as the tips of my fingers brush the undersides of your tits. 

“Two hours?” I groan, tightening my grip on you as if to not let you get out of my hands for such a long time. “I want you to pay attention to me.” I inch my leg higher up between your legs. Just barely, but I know you feel it, and you know you can’t acknowledge it. 

“I’m always paying attention to you.” Still confident, almost begging me to try my hardest to make you fall apart for me.

“When you take your meds, are you gonna stop wanting to just be with me and want to work?” I put on my most convincing tone, sliding my thumbs over your nipples and taking your soft tits in my hands. My leg is fully in between yours now, but I haven’t started pushing up the way I know you want me to. I’m moving quickly but with purpose, partly because I can’t help myself. I love how your perky tits feel in my hands, love touching them and teasing them. It makes me feel like I own you, knowing I’m the only one who gets to touch you like this so casually. “I wanted to take a shower with you. Are you just gonna be thinking about your essay?”

“You act like the Vyvanse is magical. I don’t think I would be able to just think about my essay if we were in the shower together.” I slide my leg up, pushing up on your chest at the same time. “I can take it and we can still have a slow morning.” 

I kiss you, slowly, but increasing the pressure between your legs and in my grip, pushing deeper into your nipples with my fingers. 

“I have to get some work done too. I can show you where I go in the library.”

Now you’re starting to get a little bit worked up. Your face is flushed and your body melts into my touch, your hips unable to stop themselves from grinding down onto my leg, your breath quickening as I grope your chest.

“Sounds good.” Your answer isn’t clipped, but it doesn’t do much for advancing the conversation. 

“So…how are you doing?”

“I’m really good.”

I love when you’re earnest like this. I kiss you and it’s sweet, and then I kiss you again and you’re grabbing onto me, pushing your aching cunt harder against my thigh. 

“Oh yeah?” I’m whispering now, and I’m by your ear, my own ear hovering above your mouth. “Why are you so good?”

“I think you know why.”

I kiss you and push my leg up harder and faster, my tongue exploring your mouth as my hands explore your body. One hand snakes down to your ass, ruthlessly squeezing the firm muscle and helping you ride my leg.

“Do you want to feel even better?” I slide my other hand down your front, holding my palm right over your lower stomach as I play with the waistband of your underwear, letting it spring back against you.

“Yes.” You admit, knowing the confession of your desire despite your discomfort is what I’m looking for. 

I extract my leg from between your thighs, move onto my knees as I take the waistband of your underwear in both of my hands.

“Can I take these off?”

You nod, and I pepper a few kisses from the sides of your mouth down to your jaw and your neck before slipping your underwear to your ankles. I kiss you again, deeply, and I know you feel vulnerable like this, knowing how I'm going to make you feel good. One of my hands is supporting your neck, locked into your hair on the other side, pulling you closer into me. The other touches your chest, before I slowly run down your body to touch where your leg meets your abdomen. I move my hand closer to the warmth between your legs, and you gasp and arch. 

“Is this okay?” You know I know it is, but you also know I love hearing you say it.

“Very.” You still manage to be somewhat collected. I just want to make you a mess for me, but you hold back so much.

I finally make my way down to your needy cunt, indulging myself in feeling how wet your hole has gotten from my teasing. You gasp as I feel your aching entrance, circling your clit with my index and middle finger. 

“You’re really wet for me.” I look into your eyes, your cheeks are flushed and you can’t give me an answer besides nodding. 

I position my middle finger at your entrance. 

“Do you want me to?”

“Mmm-hmm.” You’re breathless, and I think your affirmation comes out in a more desperate tone than you would have preferred. 

I press my finger into you, as you shift down onto it, your cunt tightening as I curl it up slowly. I continue this motion, before pulling my finger out and teasing your clit. You’re arching your head backwards in pleasure, and I use the hand that’s in your hair to pull it back a little bit further. You feel the extent of the control I have over you, and it forces you to let out a whimper. 

“Is that good?” I whisper.

“It’s really good.” I kiss your neck, almost as a reward for your admittance, sucking and biting as I press into you with my middle finger again.

I come back up from your neck, positioning myself in such a way that I can hear your breath quickening because of my touch. 

“I love hearing your breath get like that.”

You can’t do much in response other than give a bashful smile and a shameful giggle, but I speed up my circles on your clit and your breath falters again, making my own core throb. 

“You’re so fucking hot.” I kiss you, loving the way you accept my tongue so easily into your mouth, the way you let go and let me make all the decisions for you. 

“Do you want another finger?” I tease my ring finger with my middle finger now over your warm hole. I know it’s aching to be filled up more, I can hear how wet you are, but I want to hear you say it.

“Yes, please.”

I don’t hesitate before pressing two fingers inside you, extending and curling as deeply as I can. I’m rewarded with a small moan escaping your mouth, in response to which I increase the pace of my fingers curling inside you, pressing my arm further up into you and using my leg to support you from the back of your thigh. I kiss down your neck to one of your tits, sucking and biting the skin and licking and kissing your nipples. Combined with my fingers filling you up, the stimulation puts you in a haze, thinking about nothing except my fingers touching your cunt. I’m stretching your pussy with my fingers, spreading them apart with each push deeper.

“Do you think you can take another one, baby?” I whisper gently into your ear. I know you love being treated like this, being made to feel good and treated nicely the way you deserve. 

You nod, and I know you feel like if you said anything it would come out sounding a lot like begging. I press a third finger into you. You’re getting desperate now. Your breath itself is stuttering, and it only makes me want to go deeper and harder. Every little noise you let out makes me need you more desperately. 

As soon as I feel you starting to get close, I pull my fingers out of your cunt. It’s abrupt and you’re left grinding into thin air, looking up at me 

“What are you doing?” You’re sharp, but you can’t help but sound disappointed and confused. 

I kiss you, and you kiss me back reluctantly. I bring my fingers up to my mouth and lick your wetness off of them. Your breath hitches and your expression has a hint of skepticism, although it doesn’t do well at covering up your desperation. 

I get off the bed and stand up, leaving you half naked and legs crossed under my sheets. It becomes clear to you now why it felt like I was getting your cunt ready for something instead of focusing on getting you off the way I normally would. I climb back into bed with my pink rabbit and little blue bottle of lube, and watch your nervous smile grow. 

“I would really love to fuck you with this.”

You look desperate, laying on my pillow and looking up at me with your shirt pulled up like that. You pull me close, it’s hot having you whisper directly into my ear but I also know it’s partly because you can’t look me in the eyes for what you’re going to say next.

“I need you to fuck me with it.”

I smile and kiss you quickly before tugging at your shirt. You sit up and I take it off. Even though I love fucking you in my clothes, I love seeing you like this for me even more. I straddle you, and you know I’m going to make you work for it, the way I never let you get anything too easily, even though I give you everything you want. 

I trace the toy up your chest, giggling at your look of reluctance. 

“I kind of feel like you know what I’m thinking of having you do with it,” I tease, as I draw closer to your neck and collarbones. 

“I think you want me to say it.” 

“You know I do.”

“You want me to put it in my mouth.”

I nod and grin, placing my other arm on your shoulder and holding you down as I inch towards your mouth with the plastic cock. You look shy, but you’re grinding back up into me as I shift in your lap. I tap your bottom lip with the tip, and you part your lips obediently. It’s a start, but I move my hand from my shoulder to your jaw, placing my thumb on your bottom row of teeth.

“Wider.” You listen, parting your lips further as I gently pull your mouth open. A warmth builds in my core from the sight of you. 

“Come on baby. Like you mean it.”

You look up at me, and lick up the underside of the toy, before sucking the tip and taking it in your mouth. I move my other hand into your hair, forcing your head up as I push it further into your mouth. 

“That’s it, get it nice and wet to go inside you.”

This seems effective, as you groan and take it further down your throat, gagging a little bit as you salivate all over it. I know I have lube, but I love making you use your mouth to get the cock ready to go in your needy pussy.

I pull it out of your mouth slowly, watching the string of saliva between your lips and the toy hang. 

“Good job, baby.” I said, shifting my leg to rub up against your aching cunt as a reward for your enthusiasm. I can tell you like being told you’re doing a good job, as you whimper and uncontrollably pulse against my thigh. 

I grab the lube and add some on top of your spit, using my hand to rub it together. I fully dismount from on top of you, instead positioning my knees on either side of one of your legs, bringing the rabbit to tease your wet pussy. You’re desperate for me, holding back moans as I lightly trace your nipples with my tongue and tease your hole with the cock. 

“Is it okay if I start going in?”

You nod, and I make an initial brief push into your entrance, stopping and hearing your gasping and feeling you clutch the back of my t-shirt. You nod for more, fervently, and I comply. I push the toy deep inside you, and watch you gasp as you’re filled so wholly for the first time. You moan as I thrust slightly and I kiss your tits once again, making you squirm. 

“I’m gonna turn it on,” I tell you, not asking anymore. Your eyes widen. It seems as though you’ve forgotten the toy can do more than fill up your needy hole. 

I rotate the rabbit so that the little ears are on your clit, and then turn the base knob to the lowest setting. 

You shudder as your clit is all of a sudden stimulated while your cunt is filled up, your moans tumbling out even louder as I thrust it deeper inside of you. 

“Can you tell me if that’s good, baby?”

“It’s really good,” you whimper, melting into my touch. I know you love when I talk to you while I’m fucking you. You love when I make you admit how much you like what I’m doing to you. 

“Aww, I’m so glad,” I say, continuing to leave marks on your tits with my mouth. 

I sit back to look at you as I continue going harder, moving the cock in and out of your pussy.

“Is this a good pace, or do you want me to go a little faster?” I whisper into your ear. 

You flush at the thought of saying it out loud, but you know that if you tell me what you want, I’ll give it to you. 

“You can go a bit harder,” you admit breathlessly into my ear, making my core tighten. 

I easily comply, fucking you so hard that you’re bouncing up and down on the mattress, gripping onto me for support. I turn the vibration up a notch, and you lurch and twitch your hips violently. 

“Oh, does that feel good?”

You can’t help but let out moans in response, less and less able to think by the second. Seeing you become such a mess for me  is turning me on so much. I stop thrusting as hard and let the vibrations make you squirm. 

I feel powerful like this, holding the rabbit in you and to your clit, making you a mess with a toy while I calmly sit back and watch you unravel. I turn it up to the highest level. 

“Fuck,” you moan, your back arched completely off of the mattress. 

“You’re so fucking pretty like this.” I kiss your neck. “Tell me how good it feels, baby.” I know this is hard for you, but I want to hear you desperate.

“It’s so—” You’re interrupted by a moan as I press the toy firmly onto your clit, simultaneously thrusting it upwards deeper into your cervix. “Fucking good.”

I can tell you’re close, and I let the sensations course through you as I tease your nipples with my other hand and tongue. Your chest heaves and your moans are intermittently pushed out of you by the force of your movement up and down on the bed. I can’t get over how good you look, fucked out for me even though you’re usually so composed.

“Don’t stop,” you sigh breathlessly, and I’ve never needed to be told something less. I move my arm down to grab your side above your hip, guiding you up and down the length of it. Your head is completely thrown back, one hand wrapped up in the back of my shirt, the other on the back of my head. I kiss you as you arch once more, your hips slowing down but pushing down and taking the length of the rabbit more firmly. I bite your bottom lip and let my tongue feel around your mouth as you sigh, your hips shuddering and your legs twitching. 

I slowly release the pressure of the toy on you, kissing you gently as your body releases its tension in my arms. I pull the toy out slowly, and you gasp as it fully exits your dripping hole. I reach down, and pull your underwear back up over your hips, and then my shirt back over your head, tracing soft kisses across your face. 

“Are you tired? You can take your meds and then we can relax for a little before you start your essay.”

You look up at me, chest heaving slightly, but eyes steady. You bury a hand in my hair, and pull me in for a slow kiss. 

“I think we should take that shower you were talking about earlier.”

[cogandcataclysm]

Looking for Co-Founders for a Steampunk Roleplay Server: Cog & Cataclysm!

Hello, adventurers and storytellers! I’m working on creating Cog & Cataclysm, a steampunk-inspired roleplay server that blends sci-fi, fantasy, gothic horror, and body horror into an intricate, immersive world. To bring this vision to life, I’m searching for three dedicated co-founders to help with lore creation and running the server. If you’re passionate about creative storytelling and building a strong, welcoming community, this might be the perfect opportunity for you!

What I’m Looking For:

Kind and pleasant to work with: A positive and supportive attitude is key!

Active participation: Be ready to stay involved in server creation and activities while understanding that IRL comes first.

Roleplay and server experience: Familiarity with roleplaying, server setup, and/or moderation is essential.

Discord bot knowledge (huge plus!): Experience with bots like Tupperbox, Dice Maiden, or others is a big advantage.

What You’ll Be Doing:

Collaborating on lore development to build a rich, engaging world.

Assisting with server setup, structure, and functionality.

Helping moderate and guide the community as it grows.

How to Apply: If this sounds like your jam, message me here or on Discord! my name is hexheathen

Let’s create something amazing together!