#interactive digital catalog

[ecollatapp]

Transform your catalogs and brochures into engaging interactive digital experiences. Enhance customer journeys and drive conversions with captivating visuals and seamless navigation with catalog management software.

[primus-why]

Okay okay just a real quick: MegOp Bodyguard Affair within an Arranged Marriage AU???

Imagine Orion Pax is very very very distantly related to one of the lineages of the Primes, and though he goes about his life practically a mid-caste, the fact remains that he is technically considered high-caste.

He maintains a job as an Archivist, living out a modest, unassuming life, and generally doesn't care for the pomp and circumstance of high-caste affairs. The flashiness just isn't in his nature, and there is something he can't quite place his digit on when he attended those soirees-- something unsettling and almost invisible.

The key word here being almost. He is not ignorant to the way higher-castes handle their lower-caste staff-- in his youth he'd overheard his fair share of unjust punishments over minuscule offenses or listened to someone brag about withholding payment as a means to pinch a few credits. Though Orion doesn't exist in that sphere any more, he can't shake the sense that things have just gotten worse. His friend Jazz is an upper mid-caste who has a knack for keeping an audial to the ground thanks to his security work, and has told him many times there is a growing unrest all over Cybertron-- that it's only a matter of time before it bursts into something ugly.

Orion already sees ugliness; as the slum areas continue to expand, as mechs and their homes fall into disrepair, the Senate and Council of Primes don't appear to care at all about the wellbeing of Cybertronian citizens. He sees what Jazz is referring to-- there is a looming darkness, and their people are disconnected. But what can Orion, a mere data clerk, possibly do about it?

He does what he's best at: cataloging whatever data he can find to educate himself of the stories he cannot see or fathom.

Through his research he discovered some of the gruesome ways mechs in castes below him have been treated, but even then he knew his findings were only scratching the surface. He wanted to learn more-- to speak with others who had direct experiences. He first began with Ratchet, a dear friend who was also high-caste, who used his vast medical knowledge to attend to anyone who came to him. In fact, Ratchet purposefully divides his time between high-caste hospitals and a clinic he created in Rodion in order to give lower-castes access to his skill. The lack of opportunities for maintenance and even basic medical care horrified Orion, and it only urged him to look deeper.

That was how he had eventually discovered the forums-- large, categorized, virtual assemblies of mechs from all walks of life, interacting anonymously under pseudonyms. He absorbed as much as he could-- even the uglier sides he couldn't stomach on the first read. It felt important that he saw these things, as it confirmed his suspicions that the high-castes who operated the Senate were willfully allowing people to suffer for their own benefit and comfort.

In time, he learned of the works of Megatronus-- a gladiator who fought in the Pits of Kaon, but who was also an impressive orator and author. He would publish transcribed speeches and essays under a pseudonym, though Orion quickly learned the mech's true identity from others who followed his work. His words spoke plainly of the inequalities and injustices present in society, shedding light on the lives of unnamed Disposables, and wove a dream of a world without a caste system, without Functionism. In short, it was revolutionary, and captured Orion so intensely that he became uncharacteristically emboldened one cycle and sent Megatronus a direct message.

Of course, while Orion had already been chatting with a few mechs here and there to learn of their accounts, something about reaching out to Megatronus felt... different. A much bigger step. Perhaps it was because he was something of a celebrity, being a public figure in the blood sport he championed as well as being a talented writer. Orion was nervous and excited all at once-- though he reminded himself he really ought not to be, seeing as Megatronus would be understandably far too busy to even read his message... surely he gets hundreds of those a cycle...

But then something miraculous happened-- Megatronus actually responded!!!

And thus began their fervent exchange of ideas. Megatronus was as captivating as Orion had suspected-- an enlightening philosopher wrapped within the charms of his quick wit and forward nature. Eventually-- though they had never even seen each other-- a deep mutual friendship bloomed, and Orion longed to visit Megatronus in Kaon... to meet and hear him speak in person...

(He longed for other things as well, but dare not voice them aloud for he knew how outlandish it was to want them. Orion knew he could not monopolize Megatronus' time in the selfish way he would like-- not when he was so important to the revolutionary movement he had started...)

However, everything changed when Orion's cousin Sentinel was named a Prime.

There hadn't been a new Prime in ages. Zeta and Vector had been serving for many vorns, while Alpha Trion came well before them and was by far the oldest; Sentinel would likely be replacing him on their Council of Primes. This, Orion knew, would be devastating news to Megatronus-- he knew the gladiator had hoped to one day ascend to the title of Prime as demonstration of overcoming the oppression of the caste system. Now, it seemed they would have to wait even longer for the next rare chance of a new Prime being named.

Secondary to all that, Orion was facing his own personal troubles. He, who was content to live an unassuming life, had been thrust into the spotlight for having an even closer lineage to the Primes. Now he had strangers sending him gifts, even showing up at his place of work, vying for his good graces so he might put in a word to Sentinel on their behalf. Or worse, they attempted to seduce him in a blatant attempt to ascend the social ladder through a conjux bond. It all made Orion deeply uncomfortable, and he thanked Alpha Trion profusely for letting him use a private workstation at the Archives, otherwise he would have lost his mind (or his temper.)

For folks desperate to recieve acknowledgment from the new Prime to boost their social standing, they were shockingly naive about Orion's relationship to Sentinel. They had been estranged for over half his function by now, in part because they existed in different circles, but also because Orion could hardly stand the mech. Sentinel had been pompous and cocky as a sparkling, and unfortunately it was a not a phase he grew out of. He was, quite frankly, a classic example of the type of leader people were growing to despise-- an arrogant and over-polished politician who made decisions to only benefit himself and crush the rest beneath his pedes.

That train of thought led him back to Megatronus; Orion hadn't heard from him in a while. At first he had been terrified that his dear friend had finally been overtaken in the Pit, killed by his fellow mech or by some massive beast stolen from a foreign planet. But after scanning the Kaon news for joors, he found no recounting of such an event-- surely the champion's defeat would have made a headline? Orion concluded he must be held up by something, and so after not receiving a response for quite some time, he ventured to ask another gladiator who worked closely with Megatronus-- Soundwave. He knew the silent mech didn't like to be bothered, but he had hoped to convey his concerns well enough that he could be forgiven just this once.

Orion: Hello, Soundwave. I am sorry to disturb you with the same question I'm sure countless others have been wondering, but do you know where Megatronus is?

Soundwave: ... Affirmative. Many have wondered. However, Orion Pax first to ask.

Orion: Oh! I would have assumed your inbox would be flooded by inquiries to his whereabouts...

Soundwave: Others afraid to ask.

Orion: ... Afraid to ask you or afraid to ask what has become of him? Did something bad happen?? Is he alright???

Soundwave: ... Inconclusive. Not good, not bad. Confirmed: Megatronus is unharmed.

Orion: That is such a relief to hear!! In that case, may I inquire further as to what situation prevents him from communicating? That is to say, I noticed he hasn't been posting to the forums as of late...

Soundwave: ... Megatronus: loaned to high-caste buyer. Unable to establish contact until further notice. Contract duration: one stellar cycle. Megatronus: will post as soon as able.

Orion: Oh... is that a common situation you find yourselves in?

Soundwave: Uncommon, but not rare.

Orion: I see... thank you for taking the time to speak with me, Soundwave. It was most illuminating. In the meantime, I will endeavor to be patient a while longer for Megatronus' return to the forums. Farewell for now, and please stay safe.

Soundwave abruptly exited their chat without a departing remark, not that Orion expected him to do anything else.

It had been hard as of late to see his friends in Iacon with all the new attention he had been attracting. Now, without even his dear online companion to talk to, Orion felt a bit isolated... lonely, even. But he knew the buzz around Sentinel's Primacy ceremony would die down eventually, so all he had to do was persevere.

Still, as much as he enjoyed the company of mechs like Ratchet and Jazz over a com channel, there was something about those text-based messages between himself and Megatronus that he craved. The gladiator provided intellectual stimulation that he found in no one else, and it was intoxicating...

Unfortunately the universe decided it would not let Orion Pax stew in isolation for long. No, it had other plans... which involved Sentinel suddenly deciding to send for him, so that they might meet at his grand estate and "become reacquainted".

Upon arriving, Orion was not impressed by the splendor as he now saw it as a terrible waste. He politely listened to all the history the estate manager waxed on about as they pointed to various highlights during their tour, even asking thoughtful questions along the way (which they seemed to appreciate.) Still, all he could think of is what these resources might've been able to do for literally anyone else on the planet aside from boosting his cousin's vanity.

Finally he is led to meet Sentinel in one of the drawing rooms. He greets Orion uncharacteristically warmly at first, throwing Orion off for a moment. But in a klik, Sentinel's facade slips away and he is back to his petty, backhanded remarks-- now there's the Sentinel Orion remembered.

As it turns out, Sentinel has pawned him off to be bonded to a Senator who was tantamount in securing the Prime seat for him. Orion is outraged!! How dare he make such a promise without consulting him!?!

"I refuse." Orion said, his voice cold, "The Senator may certainly try to court me, and I will honestly take their attempt into consideration-- as a courtesy to your arrangement-- but I will make no promise to be bonded by the end of it." Orion hoped the concession to at least let the mech have a fair go at courting would be enough.

But Sentinel just laughed-- laughed.

"Oh! You think you have a choice! Ha ha ha!" He wiped away some stray coolant from his optic before resetting his vocalizer, "As you may recall, tomorrow I will be named Prime. And as the highest living member of our lineage, I will oversee all of our clan's affairs. I suggest you learn your place this cycle, Orion... I may not be so forgiving henceforth."

"I don't care what you have to say on the matter, today or otherwise." Orion said, turning to leave, "I refuse to be a pawn in this game. Pick another estranged family member to entertain you, I'm going home."

"Oh, poor Orion. Didn't I mention? You are home."

"I... what?"

"I took the liberty of gathering all your things and relocated them here," Sentinel said with a dismissive wave, as though upending his entire life was as easy as ordering fuel, "and I've asked Alpha Trion place you on sabbatical from the Archives, starting immediately."

"Wh-- why?! When?!?"

"Shortly after my chauffeur picked you up." Sentinel regarded him smugly from over a shoulder pauldron, "I couldn't allow your betrothed to be seen visiting that hovel you called a home, so I graciously offered to house you until the conjux ritus was complete."

'This can't be happening.' Orion was too stunned to speak, panic creeping up as the reality of his situation sunk in. 'My job, my friends, my home... this is archaic!'

"The courting and subsequent ritus is expected to take approximately a stellar cycle," Sentinel continued, glancing at his digits and looking rather bored, "hence your sabbatical. And after that you will move into your bonded's estate. From there, I don't care what you do."

A knock on the door interrupted Sentinel's servo grooming and Orion's mental spiral. The estate manager had returned with a large silver mech following close behind, saying something about fuel being ready for them in another parlour.

"Ah! Excellent timing." Sentinel clapped his servos and turned to Orion. "Care to join me for a snack?"

Orion said nothing, still trying to calm his racing processor.

"No?" Sentinel began to approach him. "We could toast to a new chapter in our functions!"

Finally no longer on the verge of a glitch, Orion turned his helm away, deliberately not looking at Sentinel.

"No, thank you," he said sullenly, "My tanks are satisfactory."

Suddenly Sentinel cupped his chin with one servo and yanked so that their optics met.

"Are you sure? I am a very busy mech, and I might otherwise forget to feed you later." He leaned in even closer, "It would be unwise to make a habit of spurning my generosity, as I alone have the power to make your stay here more... comfortable."

"I will survive." Said Orion-- gaze firm and unwavering, a cold fire in his optics.

'I will survive this... I will survive you.'

Sentinel released him with a sneer and marched over to the door. "Come!" he barked at the silver mech, causing the estate manager to jolt. However the larger mech hardly stirred, save to plod towards the spot Sentinel had gestured to. Orion noticed his helm was bowed, red optics casts towards the floor... which meant he was almost certainly a low-caste and had to show deference to the higher-castes around him. The sight made Orion's spark twist.

Despite the submissive posture, the silver mech was large and imposing; he even had to duck and turn slightly to fit his helm and broad, spiked shoulders through the doorframe. When he was able to stand at his full height, Orion could see he wore a carefully blank expression. 'Reticence is a common self-preservation tactic for mechs in his position... I can plainly see why.'

"Meet your new bodyguard, Orion Pax!" Sentinel clapped the silver mech on the shoulder with vicious glee as red optics widened minutely before returning to their previous setting. "He'll be here to keep an optic on you at all times while you're being courted."

'Not so much for my safety as he is to deter me from running away, no doubt.' Orion speculated. Nothing he holds against the big mech personally, he knows it's just his job. Still, his presence will complicate any of Orion's future plans...

Sentinel started to walk away then, but seemed to think of something else. "Ah-- despite his frame size, he should blend into your periphery. You'll hardly notice he's there. But do let me or my estate manager know if he gets to be too chatty."

And with that, Sentinel and the estate manager finally left him alone with his new keeper. Orion let out a long, shaky sigh. He knew Sentinel could have a cruel and ruthless streak, but this was beyond the pale. 'Primus below, I shudder to imagine how will he act once he actually is a Prime...'

Shaking those disturbing thoughts for now he turned towards the other mech in the room, only to be met with red optics flicking up to look right at him. The silver mech's helm was still downcast, so it was difficult to see his expression, but Orion surmised he must be feeling wary of his new charge.

'Well, that won't do.' Orion gathered himself and strode over to make introductions.

"Hello. My designation is Orion Pax." As he spoke the silver mech's helm began to slowly rise, red optics still glued him. "Despite what Sentinel implied, I'd much prefer you speak as often as you'd like... at least in my company. It seems we will be spending a lot of time together, and it would be a shame to spend its entirety in silence."

He held out his servo as an offered greeting. Eventually, after a brief hesitation, the looming silver mech reached out with his own (clawed?!) servo and shook it, being even more gentle than Orion thought possible.

"... Orion Pax." The mech ventured, looking him up and down. "Would you happen to be from Iacon?"

'Oh my,' thought Orion, feeling his faceplates heat up a bit, 'I could certainly get used to hearing his voice...'

"Ah, yes! I am!" Orion said a bit too bright, which only increased his blush, "I work as an Archivist, doing anything clerical, really. My focus is generally on the origins and development of Cybertronian cultures and societies. Recently I've been reading more about philosophy, and how it's shaped-- Oh!" Orion's train of thought came to screeching halt. He was being rude!

"Please forgive me, but I have not even asked you for your designation! And Sentinel made no mention of it before... who might you be, my keeper? Are you part of the estate's sentry?"

The silver mech gave a low chuckle, visibly more relaxed than he had been earlier. The sound sent a tingle down Orion's struts.

"Only temporarily. I am a gladiator-- plucked fresh from the Pits to be your humble guardsmech." The mech grinned and did a mock bow. Orion was utterly charmed... but wait!

"... Do you by chance know the Champion of Kaon?" 'Could it be...?'

Another rumbling chuckle, and Orion found himself hanging on every word.

"I am the Champion, little Archivist. My designation is Megatronus."

[cuntdevil]

★ MOURNINGSTAR !

cybercore is undergoing another production of artificial life that will aid in those who have mourned a lost one. this time we grant you, the mourningstars as they closely replicate the one you have lost and filling that empty hole inside your aching heart.

( fic demographics. ) supernatural, dean winchester, angst | minors, ageless & blank blogs: do not interact & 12,277 words.

╰┈➤ robot!dean winchester & widow!reader, flashbacks to the real dean, alternative universe, major character death, discussions of grief & the stages, depression & some suicidal ideation, suggestive, nudity, violence & mentions of blood, featuring sam winchester & jo harville, etc.

( author's note. ) this is part of my cybercore duology, but each part can be read as a standalone. also, if you watch black mirror, there's an episode that i based this on actually. the episode is called be right back, and i wanted to write one similar because it's one of my favorite episodes and also i love writing robot/android fics. it's so addicting !

➤ RETURN TO THE CYBERCORE CATALOG !

“When I look into your eyes, I see life. I’m reminded of how beautiful it could be and that’s all worth living,” You stand teary-eyed as you stare into your lover's green pupils. Eyes red and swollen as he’s already in tears. The amount of times he’s tried to conceal them, but only come to pour out more as you bare your heart and soul in front of all of your loved ones. 

You mean it. You meant every word that you said as you held onto his hands, rubbing soothing circles on the back of them. Your eyes stared so longingly into his with so much love as you’re unashamed to show it. You choke up on your sobs, grateful for the evolution for makeup as your mascara is waterproof. “Everytime I woke up with you in my arms and your eyes would flutter open, my love for you continued to grow. Even now as I look at you, my beloved, I don’t think I could ever spend my life without you.”

You really and truly meant every word that you said. As now, you can barely bring yourself to get out of bed and start your day. Because what is there to do? You weren’t working, taking two weeks off for bereavement, spending it to truly process your husband’s death. To truly process that from now on, you won’t wake up to his warmth and those bright green eyes adored. That you won’t be feeling his sluggish movement when he wakes up, body stretching as his muscles would flex and you’d hear him grunt before hearing that gruff and raspy ‘good morning’ fall from his lips. You’ll no longer see the sun peaking through the window as it lands on him, making him shine like the god he is. You will no longer have the one you devoted the rest of your life to by your side any longer. 

It’s been three days of your bereavement leave and you’ve barely eaten, hearing the churn of your stomach as nausea settles in the pit of it. You whine as the sun peeks through the blinds, hitting your eyes as disrupting your slumber. The digital clock ticks closer to twelve p.m. and you’re lethargic, clutching onto the silky brown pillow underneath your head. You shove your head into it, pulling the sheets over your head to block out the light. It all feels so suffocating, being alive, as the darkness that you surround yourself in only reminds of that night, getting that call from the hospital that your husband had been severely hurt. 

He had gone out to the bar, catching up with a group of friends that were back in town for the time. He asked you if you had wanted to come, but you had said no because you were exhausted and didn’t think you could take another couple of hours sitting at a stool. You’d probably fall asleep then and there if anything. Dean didn’t have a problem with it, reaching for the keys as he pulled on his leather jacket over the red flannel. He gave you a kiss goodbye, assuring you that he’d call you when he was ready to head back. 

You didn’t receive a call until three in the morning, alerted out of your sleep as you had kept the sound on and waiting for his call. You barely opened your eyes, reaching for the device on your bedside table and swiping the green answer button. You hadn’t read the caller ID, yawning into the line as you sleepily say, “Hey, babe. Are you on your way home now?”

“I’m sorry, Mrs. Winchester, but—” You shoot up from the bed, every ounce of exhaustion leaving your body at the sound of the dreadful news. You throw off the covers as the soft voice of the nurse explains to you your husband’s condition. Your heart immediately started racing as you hung up the moment you got the hospital name, saying, “I’ll be there in fifteen minutes.”

You lived thirty minutes away from the location, but you sped through and zoomed past the cars that were still on the road at this hour. You were full of adrenaline, hyper aware of everything as you pulled into the hospital parking lot. You barely put your car into park before you’re hopping out of the front door and racing through the emergency room doors. It was silent inside, but your voice rang loud and clear. You couldn’t think straight, shouting, “Where is he? Where is my husband?”

Immediately the front desk nurse stood to her feet as security started heading your way in case anything were to transpire there. “Ma’am, please calm down. Can you tell me his—”

“Don’t tell me to calm down!” you exclaim. “Dean Winchester, where is he? Is he alright?”

At the sound of the commotion you were causing, the nurse that you spoke with on the phone came out, keeping that same calmness in her tone that brought you to peace the moment she told you to follow her. You were jogging, pushing through the door as you were panting. She immediately led you to the room, where she went into further depth. “Based on what his friends told me, it seemed like he was involved in an altercation. His CAT scan shows bleeding in the brain and broken ribs. He’s currently on life support, but we don’t know if he’ll ever gain back consciousness. The police are in the room and can tell you more. I do apologize about your husband, ma’am.”

You were immediately crushed the moment you saw him in person, laying on the bed so lifelessly as he’s hooked on many machines. The bleeding subdued but many bandages that hide the cuts as the clothes he left in has been replaced with a dull blue hospital gown. Your breathing grew erratic, chest rising and falling quickly as you started bawling and calling out his name. You ran to his side, careful as you pulled down the bed handles to place your head down next to him.

“My baby…” You sobbed. “My life… Please don’t give up. Please don’t give up on me. You can get through this. You can!”

Within an hour or two, the heart monitor started beeping as nurses and doctors rushed into his aid. They pushed you out the way, instructing you to leave the room as they focused on him. You wanted to argue, but that same nurse had silenced you before you even could. Slow steps that had you blinded as she collectively explained to you that it would be even harder to see him take his last breath, explaining to you that through all the commotion, it was not the best idea to witness it there.

You hadn’t realized it, but they had given up on him then. Not assuring you that there might be a sliver of hope left. However, she said it so kindly, so sickeningly sweet that it had blinded you and made you step out of the room as you could only meekly nod. Slowly, she closed down the sliding door and you slid down it. 

That night, Sam had come to comfort you, telling you that everything would be okay, but you knew all too well. Everything would fall apart.

His passing felt like a betrayal to you. When you first got the ashes, you had thrown the ceramic container in a rage. Luckily, it was still the bag it had given to you in, but you regretted it an hour later when you went back downstairs when you realized what you had done. On your tippy toes, you had to step over the broken fragments, not going for the broom, but your powdered husband, picking up the bag and clutching it to your chest. “I’m sorry,” you whispered on repeat. “I’m so so sorry.”

You split the ashes up between you and Sam, where part of Dean would join alongside Mary and John at his place. You replaced the old container with one that resembled a beer bottle. You had a tiny dosage that you had made into a necklace, one that Dean used to wear all the time but lost it during a fishing trip. He had told you the story behind it, and said that it represented him and his brother’s sibling bond. You tried to see if you could find something that could closely replace it, but no replica could ever beat the real thing. Now, to you, the one you wear is a symbol of your bond with him. 

You cling to it under the sheets as that familiar rise of anger bubbles inside of you. How could he leave you like this? Barely two years into your marriage, nothing has really started. He had a promising future— you both had one. Now, the house is empty with no one to share it, suffocating you in this grief you feel like you have to process all on your own. 

“Ahhhhhh!” your screams are muffled into the pillow. How could he leave me like this? How could he do this to me? It’s come to the point that you’ve cried so much that the tears are no longer budding, just choked up sobs that reveal your pain. Your voice gets hoarse and the nauseating feeling has yet to dissipate, forcing you to pull the covers off your body. The cold air hits your skin, the thin nightgown doing nothing to provide you warmth. You shiver, hugging your body close as your feet touch the freezing floor. You feel dizzy, like you could pass out at any moment, but you can only blame yourself for the lack of care. Stumbling forward, you head straight to the windows, reaching for the thick string holding the dark bamboo slacks and shutting out the sun from further blinding your vision. 

Your next stop is the thermostat, turning the air conditioner off so you can feel the heat of summer until you can’t handle it anymore. You walk past the picture frames hung up on the wall and perched on the furniture, some completely decorative, others of you and Dean. You can’t bear to look at them, to look at him anymore. You’ve told yourself plenty of times in the past couple of days that you’ll put them away until you’re ready to face him again, but every time you grab one to gently place inside of a box, you can’t bear to do it. 

The delicate and time consuming care that you put into the house feels wasted now, a forest green carpet that leads you to the kitchen. It must’ve missed your presence as once upon a time, you’d be in here every chance you had. When you came home from work, despite your exhaustion, cooking was your escape. Now, you can’t even think of what to eat. However, you start off simple, with a large glass of water to hydrate yourself before turning on the kettle. 

The lights flicker on the moment you open the fridge, pulling out the egg carton and bread bag. In the freezer, you grab the pork sausage patties inside. The heat from the stove brings you back to life, quickly becoming distracted in the moment. The sizzle of the oil as it gets hot with the satisfying crack of two eggs. Your pots are a shimmering burnt orange color, shining in the light. A gift to you on your wedding day. 

For the first time since his death, you feel some sense of normality. The bonnet on your head, hiding your curls. The nightgown you wear, short and revealing that Dean would’ve had his hands all over you by now. It’s his favorite of your collection. With a hand propped on your hip as you turn the stove heat down, you’re close to throwing the bread in the toaster when you hear the chime of the doorbell, three gentle knocks following afterwards. 

An exasperated sigh leaves you then, trudging towards the door. You ask, “Who is it?” before peeking out the peephole, the blonde waves of Joanna Harvelle. Best known as Jo, she was someone that held value in Dean’s life. A person evident in his childhood, until she went off to college out of the country. You had only seen her during the holidays, Thanksgiving and Christmas, and she was always kind and cordial with you, but nothing went past that. You had always speculated that she had feelings for him, but Dean would always snort and deny it. He couldn’t see the captivation written all over the girl’s face, but you did. 

“Hey, (Y/N),” her voice sounds exhausted. “It’s Jo. You probably don’t want anyone to visit. Mom said that you haven’t had any visitors or answering any calls, but—”

You cut her speech short, unlocking the two locks and swinging the above chain down before revealing yourself. Still dressed in the revealing nightgown, Jo is taken aback to your appearance and the fact that you opened the door for her. Mouth falling open agape, she takes a step back. “Oh, um… Hello.”

You don’t bother reciprocating the greeting, simply stepping aside as you gesture her in. “Come in, Jo. It’s nice to see you.”

She’s dressed in a gray long-sleeved top, tucked into denim jeans that flare at the bottom. She wipes off the bottom of her shoes on the welcome rug before stepping out of them and placing them on the shoe rack next to the door. It’s a silent exchange as you head back to the kitchen. “Have you already eaten?”

“Yes,” she replies. “Don’t bother in making anything for me. I didn’t come here to work for you.”

You’re grateful for that because you really didn’t want to have to start up another plate. Your food’s slightly burned, but it’s still edible as you slide everything on the plate. You add butter and jelly to your toast before grabbing a plate and heading to the family area, where Jo has made herself at home, sitting down on the couch. She sits on your habitual spot, leaving you to take Dean’s. 

Sinking into the couch, you swear you still feel the warmth of him. Your breath hitches as you take a moment to relax. All the while, Jo’s eyes are still on you and watching you carefully. You hate that. You hate how people have come to treat you as though you’re fragile, constantly asking you if you’re okay, watching you like a hawk as if by any second, you’ll break. Truthfully, you feel as though you could, but you hate the speculating eyes that follow as you just want time alone. 

“I see you’re holding up well,” the corner of her lips twitched at that, evidently trying to joke around and try to make the room feel lighter. It’s then that you truly question why she’s here in the first place. She’s not a friend— not yours. She’s been absent in Dean’s life for far too long to have been a present one of his to even call herself that. It makes your body tense as you’ve come to regret opening the door for her, but no matter how much you claim to want solitude, your body’s yearning for everything but that. 

“Does it look like that?” your voice sounds empty as you poke at your plate, eyes not meeting hers as you force yourself to eat. You’ve gained some comfort, putting your feet up on the couch, hiding it underneath the soft cushions for warmth. Jo fiddles with her fingers, trying to make this easier for the both of you. 

“Yeah,” she continues to smile. “All things considered. If I had lost my husband the way you did, this entire house would be turned upside down.”

That manages to get a snort out of you, your lips turning upward but still failing to meet Jo’s gaze. You’ve only managed to fork up two spoonfuls of food before you’re letting the silverware fall to the plate with a heavy clinking sound. “Oh, I want to. I want to turn this entire place around.”

Jo feels some sort of comfort at the fact that you’re opening up to her. Her mom’s been saying that you wouldn’t answer any calls after the funeral. That you’ve been ignoring everyone that’s come knocking, even your parents and threatening to call the police when they’d start shouting through your windows. You had shut everyone out in response to your grieving, and she thought you’d do the same to her. But here are the two of you, perched up on the couch together. That must hold some sort of meaning. 

“I’m mad at him, y’know?” Your voice breaks, croaking out your response through your prinkling eyes. “For leaving me like this…”

“I understand,” Jo breathes, reaching for your hand. And you let her touch you, let the feeling of your fingertips graze your skin. “He left us all so soon— left you so soon. It’s all too unreal.”

Your eyes linger on her, eyes darkening at her words. You wanted to yell at her, ask her how she could possibly understand your pain. But, your throat’s caught up in your mouth as your anger bubbles up, but never boils past the brim. She doesn’t take notice of the shift, looking down at her hands as she shakes her head and wipes away her tears with the back of her hand. “I–I actually wanted to talk to you about something. It might be hard to digest, but there’s, um… a way to bring him back.”

“What?” She takes your question as her go ahead, knowing that this will be a hard conversation to fully process and digest. Her posture immediately straightens as her eyes brighten as it frightens you. You want to tell her to get out of your house, then and there, to never come back. However, she’s also slightly piqued your interest as you want to know whatever bullshit she’s about to sputter. From her jeans pocket, she’s fishing out a folded pamphlet to hand over to you. She knew that she could never get inside if she had it in her hand, folding it up pocket sized and wrinkling it in the process. Straightening it out as best as she can, she reveals a blue pamphlet with the word Cybercore written at the top, futuristic designs with the word, Mourningstar, at the bottom. She hands it to you for you to look over as she stumbles on where to start.

“I… recently got hired at Cybercore,” she says, “It’s nothing major, just starting out in the line of sales. They have these robots called the Mourningstars, and they’re designed specifically for those in grieving—”

You look over the pamphlet, vision blurring as you let Jo continue on with her sales pitch. “—Through the Mourningstar, you can get Dean back! It won't be him exactly, but with our accurate and concise database, it will closely replicate him and you don’t have to be so hurt anymore. You—”

“Are you being serious, right now?” your voice comes out raspy and low. You’re not sure if she’s purposely ignoring you or if she genuinely cannot hear you. 

“—You start off with inputting his information, where the computer will collect all the data we have on him. It’ll create a chatbox, where you can talk to him and it’ll feel like you’re actually speaking with Dean. I’ve tried it myself and it’s amazing! You’ll have a five-day free trial before it asks you if you’d like to continue—”

You’re trying to remain calm and collected, calling out her name in a regular tone. You regret inviting her in. For her to take advantage of your grief to advertise the sick device to pawn off of the vulnerable? Who does she think she is? “Jo… Jo…” 

However, she goes on and on and on about the stupid bot, resulting in a migraine as your plate is about to slide down your lap and onto the ground. Your heart rate picks up a few beats, pacing rapidly as it becomes too overwhelming. You shake your head repeatedly as you can only think to yourself. No, no, no, no… Nononono… 

Finally, “Joanna!” Your plate falls to the ground, its contents spilling to the carpet. However, you can’t find it in yourself to care at the moment. 

It’s then that she finally stops talking, her rambling cut short as she looks into your eyes with hope. She can see it, your readiness to decline her offers. However, in denial, that sparkle remains in her eyes. “Are you interested in it? You can try it out. Like I said, there’s the five-day free trial that you can use and—”

“Do you not hear yourself?” you exhale, watching the girl incredulously. “You want me to replace my husband with some damn robot?”

“It’s not replacing him!” she denies. “No one can replace him. This is just a chance to better handle your grieving. You can redirect your anger, your sadness— everything— into something else! It’ll be a better way to cope!”

“It’s doing exactly that!” you exclaim. “‘Collecting data?’ Talking to some robot that can fabricate his very existence? That’s replacing my husband with a fake being.”

“But you wouldn’t be hurt anymore!” she argues, the tears finally spilling out as her mouth falls open, trying to explain herself. “I— I wouldn’t be…”

You wipe away at your face, coming to a better understanding as you take in a deep breath before exhaling. “No, Jo,” you tell her. “I can’t. It’s not right. Plus, Dean wouldn’t have wanted that.”

“I know,” she whispers. “I just— I’m so sorry.”

Standing abruptly, she doesn’t give you a chance to say anything before she’s rushing to the door. You try to go after, wanting to console the girl just as much as she was trying to comfort you. However, she only shouts her apologies. “I’m sorry for wasting your time like this.”

She slams your door loudly, and you can only stop in your tracks as you look through your window to see her running off towards her car. You let out a deep sigh, rolling your head around as you try to take control of your mind and come to comprehend the turn of events. You groan as you remember the plate lying down on your rug, the jelly and butter from your toast sure to stain the rug even more if you don’t tend to it now. Cursing, you use the distraction to your advantage, cleaning up the mess to take your mind off the conversation you had with Jo. No longer thinking about the Mourningstar. 

—

Your period of bereavement has passed and you’re finally back at work. Working in the fine confinements of your office, you’re stuck to your lonesome for the majority of the day. Working as one of the heads in journalism, the occupation used to bring you joy, but now it only offers you dread as you’ve been seeing the stories let out. Cybercore, the Mourningstar, Cyberguard— the high-rising tech company that’s been souring in numbers, from its wins and its failures. One of their major fails being one of their Cyberguards turning into a psychotic killer in defense of its client, a sick and twisted tale at its claim to have loved the rising idol before it was dismantled. You remember assigning one of your journalists to the story itself and it is gaining hefty numbers in the Times. You remember hearing that the idol had called it quits after that, the trauma of her attacks and the robot, leading to her fall to stardom. 

You didn’t have heavy opinions about Cybercore, liking the idea of using technology to aid the world, but also aware of the many faults that said technology can have. The Cyberguard provides a great example. You had nothing against people who utilized them for their benefit, but personally, you don’t think you’d ever purchase one. Especially with them being so expensive. However, they’re starting to plague you as you come to see ad after ad about them— Cybercore: Mourningstar— Overcome Grief the Right Way or Cybercore: Mourningstars are now on discount! It seems that the moment Jo opened up her big mouth about them, they’ve come to take over all of the devices you used. Just adding more proof that your phones are listening in on you.

It proves as a heavy distraction as your mind would occasionally drift to it and seek the benefits they could possibly have. Jo is right, your mind tries convincing you. It doesn’t have to be a replacement. Just something to keep you occupied. It makes you scoff, rolling your eyes as you check through your emails and try to think of something else. However, nothing that comes in today seems to be enticing. Just small things that aren’t really worth covering in your line of journalism. 

Time passes and before you know it, you’re on your lunch break. You reach for your lunch bag underneath your desk, unzipping the bottom part to take out the glass container and push yourself back on the swivel chair to the microwave. On top of it are a stack of papers on what’s been left during your leave. You couldn’t put yourself to look through them, the majority being cards wishing you their condolences from your loss. You didn’t want to have a breakdown the first day you came back. Opening the microwave door and pressing the number two before it automatically sets to two minutes, you grab the stack and start sifting through it. Through the staggered sizes of envelopes, a few fall out of your hold and scatter to the ground. 

Groaning, you reach down to grab them, piling them back into once stack before your eyes flicker to a pamphlet. One that’s blue and reads— God dammit, can I not get a break? — Cybercore: Mourningstar. 

You sit at your desk, poking at your lunch before stuffing your mouth full. Open and on your desk, you read through the pamphlet that had a note written in a silver Sharpie: ‘I had bought one when my mother died. It helped me a lot and still does. - From Jack.’ You sit slouched in your seat as your bottom lip juts out, digesting the material. Just as Jo had explained to you, you would receive a five-day free trial where you can test the waters. Through its database, Cybercore will use the information provided to them to closely fabricate an AI that will best mimic your lost one. After the five days, if you choose to continue on, you’ll spend a month talking to it, so that it can better gain an understanding of whoever has passed away. 

If you feel like the AI has perfectly captured the person’s “essence,” you can have an android shipped to you, but not after sending in a couple of pictures and further information about the person’s physique. You feel ashamed to admit that this does pique your interest after all. To have some fragment of Dean back in your arms, to have the spot in your bed filled once more, it’s an offer that sounds appealing.

You take the next step of googling reviews, wanting to know what people have to say about this and it’s a fine mixture of what your initial concerns were and people who are ecstatic about their Mourningstars. 

BobbySpringer: Nothing could ever replace my wife. This was the worst mistake I’ve ever made.

Anonymous: They helped pull me out of the dark, making me feel the joy of life again.

The reviews are all so mixed that it doesn’t help you conduct a proper conclusion of them, making you huff out in annoyance as it only furthers your curiosity. And you shouldn’t, you really shouldn’t, because that’s what killed the cat in the first place. But satisfaction brought it back, comes a whisper deep in your mind in the voice of Dean. 

You groan as you shut your eyes, reaching for the mouse next to your tupperware. Moving it around, your monitor comes back to life as you type in Cybercore.com. You curse under your breath as you couldn’t believe yourself for doing this, finding the name Mourningstar and clicking on it. Immediately pops up a few designs of the bots and stories customers had to share of their success with it. Going through its entirety before a button pops up— Try your Five-Day Free Trial Today. 

You feel as though you’re making the worst choice in your entire existence, but that voice in the back of your mind comes back to goad you into trying it. What do you have to lose? It asks you. You’ve already lost the one thing you could. 

It’s desperation for his proximity. It’s your grief speaking for you instead of your rationality. You know this. You know it all too well, but when you right-click on the mouse, there’s no stopping you as you’re typing quickly on the keyboard, your fingers moving into frantic motions as you know Dean’s information like the back of your hand. You don’t have any second thoughts, immediately blinded by this feeling of anticipation etched into your bones. A longing that you feel in your chest, and just as quickly it comes does it go, a sliver of joy running past your heart.

You talk yourself into it throughout, telling yourself that within the five days, there’s no way they’ll convince you that this is Dean. Their algorithms will be inaccurate, you tell yourself, comforting you the moment you click ‘Next.’ It won’t feel anything like him, and then I can live the rest of my life how I usually do. You pause in your thinking, You’ll be living your new normal without him.

When you finally confirm every piece of information, it sends you an automated email:

Dear (Y/N),

Thank you for your interest in the Cybercore Mourningstar. We are currently processing your information and will reach out to you in approximately 24-48 hours. If we exceed that time frame, please contact us at 1-800-123-1016. 

And inside you, that hopeful spirit is still trying to convince you that this is the best decision that you’ve made in your life. 

—

You’ve found yourself in a small groove. Forcing yourself out of bed in the early hours of morning to shower, having an outfit and your things prepared from the night before, and heading into the kitchen to concoct a quick breakfast. Today’s meal is oatmeal— it’s simmering on a medium heat, the aroma of apples and cinnamon wafting in the air. You have your phone hooked up to the speaker, your morning playlist set to lighten up the thick atmosphere that still lingers inside the house. You still feel sluggish, moving slowly as you move from place to the next. 

The rosy pink blouse you’re wearing fits on you looser than it typically would. Your meals have become less substantial the more the days push on, always feeling like you don’t have enough time in the day to take care of yourself like you used to. You sniffle, clearing your throat as the soft thrum of a guitar plays through the speakers. It gets cut short by the vibration of your phone, a small chime playing. Your phone lights up on the kitchen counter, showing a new email has popped up on screen. You click on it, swiping your password pattern and the message opening up:

Dear (Y/N),

Dean Winchester is now available to talk to. Click the following link to gain access: https://www.cmournstar.co/d-winchester/. You will be granted a five-day free trial before you will be asked to further the extension of the chat. 

For further questions, contact us at 1-800-123-1016.

What felt like a relaxed morning becomes a heavier one as anxiety spreads through your body, your chest tightening as it feels hard to breathe. You do what’s best for you at the moment, ignoring your phone and pouring the pot of oatmeal into a bowl and grabbing a spoon. Your phone goes ignored for the majority of the day, it rests in a far away corner in your office as you’re finding today to be a more productive day than the rest. It isn’t until your break that you open up the next tab on your monitor, pulling up your personal emails to see that it’s still the top email. 

It’s daunting. Staring at it, you gnaw on your bottom lip, a bowl of shrimp fried rice waiting to be devoured right next to you as you’ve gained the strength to move the mouse. You click it, then the link before you’re instructed to type in your account information. It’s as though it’s become muscle memory, the speed at which you type your password in and click ‘Enter.’ 

Immediately, you’re transported to a chatbox. A blank icon in the left corner as the name ‘Dean Winchester’ is written right next to it. A small green button flashes, letting you know that he’s available to talk. You don’t know what to say. What are you to say? However, you remember what your mother told you the moment you had eyes on Dean for the first time. How she nudged you in his path, tired of the flirtatious eyes the two of you had been throwing each other. “Every good conversation starts with hello.”

You: Hi…

Dean: Hey, doll. 

Dean: How’ve you been?

You pause because how have you been doing? You’ve been stuck in this in-between, trying to get ahold of this new life you’re made to live without your husband. You’re forced to get accustomed to this drowning change— your loss. 

You: I’ve been… doing.

Dean: I miss you.

You: I miss you. 

It took you a moment to realize he had sent it before you. The waterworks are quick to activate the moment you do, seeing three bubbles appear as he has more to say. More to tell you. 

Dean: I’m so sorry. Sorry for leaving you so soon.

Dean: We promised each other forever. And I feel like I broke our promise by giving up so soon.

You’ve been holding a bit of resentment and anger through all of your grief, telling yourself that he broke the vows you made to each other. Always and forever. Now, forever’s no more for him and you’re left to live it. 

However, hearing him say— reading him say it— you feel so stupid for it now. You feel how stupid he, fake Dean, looks typing it. Your eyes are burning, but no tears can follow as you shake your head.

You: Don’t be sorry anymore. It wasn’t your fault.

You go offline after that, not being able to handle anymore. Clicking the small ‘X’ on the right corner, you’re transported to a small pop up: Download the Mourningstar app to talk to your late companion on the go! Reaching for your phone, you download the app before setting it back down. You spend the rest of your break in silence, downing your lunch in less than ten minutes. 

You don’t sign into the app until you’re tucked away in bed. He’s still online, but should you expect? He’s a damn computer for Christ’s sake. This time, he messages first when it’s registered that you’ve opened the chat box. 

Dean: You should be in bed, doll.

It should make you uncomfortable how he seems to know your schedule. When you completed the online form, it never got into much detail about you. You had the typical evening routine of getting home around six, out of the shower in thirty minutes before you’re in the kitchen for the next hour. You’d wait until Dean gets home around eight to eat with him despite his protests not to, and together the two of you tried to make it in bed by ten to wake up around the same time. It’s half past ten and you can’t fall asleep.

You: Can’t fall asleep. What’s your excuse?

You’re trying to make this seem as normal as possible, trying to address him as though he was a human as well. While you thought it would seem silly, it comes naturally.

Dean: Me neither. I hate work. I hate being far away from you.

Dean: Can’t wait until we’re together again.

You find yourself talking to Dean until twelve in the morning, and the only reason why it doesn’t exceed that time is because he forces you to go to bed. He had bid you a farewell, instructing you to get some sleep so you won’t be so sluggish at work. When he finally tells you good night, his green bubble turns gray. You don’t remember seeing anything in the rules that had a time limit on the AI chats, but you don’t want to make a big fuss about it. You finally turn your phone pitch black with the simple click of the power button, a yawn leaving your lips right then and there. Your body starts feeling heavy, your eyes drooping low as you finally succumb to your exhaustion.

You come to hate how you snapped at Jo, especially now that the five days are up and you are heavily considering buying the Mourningstar afterall. You can no longer talk to Dean and it’s been making you antsy the two days you’ve been denied access to speak with him. You’re fidgeting with your fingers as you sit on your couch, reruns of the Real Housewives of Atlanta playing on the screen, but you can’t think about anything that’s happening right now. 

Did you really want to spend thousands of dollars on a replica of your husband? Would it be worth it in the end? Your mind is telling you yes to both questions, and the gnawing in your chest won’t disappear. You were trying to give yourself a week before making such a decision like this, but you’ve never been so antsy about something like this before. You haven’t felt this way since your wedding. 

Grabbing your phone, you click on Jo’s number, pressing the call button before you can even think twice. She answers on the third ring, her voice letting you know that you’re reaching out to her. “(Y/N)?” she breathes. “Hello.”

“Hey, Jo,” you sigh. You didn’t want to beat around the bush and dance around the situation with small talk first. You pulled your feet into a pretzel position, making yourself comfortable on the couch. “I… I wanted to call you and apologize about how things went down the last time we saw each other. You were only trying to help and—”

“No, no,” she cuts you off. “I was the one to overstep. I really was asking you if you wanted to replace your husband with a robot and I should’ve been more considerate to how you were feeling.”

“Yeah, well, um…” Your voice was caught in your throat, clearing it you let out a deep exhale. “If I’m being honest, I did try out the five-day free trial, and I’m starting to actually consider getting it?”

“You are?” From what you can hear, it sounded like Jo nearly jumped out her seat when she heard your admittance. “What— What made you change your mind?”

You could only shrug, the answer being evident to you. “I miss him.”

Humming, Jo nods her head as she begins playing with the blonde strands of her hair. “Honestly, trying out the free trial myself, it made me realize that no one could ever replace him. Like, yeah, it felt so real, but… Are you sure you want to do this, (Y/N)?”

“You came to me about this first, now you’re trying to talk me out of it?” you snort.

“No!” Jo immediately exclaims. Considering that she works in sales, she realizes that she didn’t make the best move. However, taking more consideration of her feelings and getting a clearer mind on everything, she doesn’t want you to regret this choice. The Mourningstar is one of the most difficult products to sell from the current list of bots Cybercore has, and Jo can’t blame those who are skeptical as she herself wouldn’t think she’d ever get one after her careful consideration of it. “That’s not what I’m trying to do. I’m just… I don’t want you to regret this. I know I came basically advertising the product to you, but it is a commitment. I don’t want you to regret this if you end up not liking it. You can return it, but you only receive sixty-percent of your money back.”

“Well,” you sing. “Sixty-percent is better than nothing.”

“If you’re absolutely sure—”

“I am,” you assure. Maybe you’re being too hasty, an unstable rollercoaster of emotions that could break and falter at any given moment. However, at this moment, it feels right. You’d rather receive sixty-percent of your money back than having to suffer with a damn bot you couldn’t return. Plus, there’s still time before you’d even receive it anyway.

“Then, hold on for a bit,” Jo says, starting to get giddy as she realizes she’s going to be making a sale. “I think I can hook you up with a good deal.”

It takes Jo twenty minutes to make it to your place. In tow, she has a tote bag with all that she needs to make the sale. She explains that you can pay with installments, a total of ten, where each one will be within the price range of a thousand dollars. You unfortunately didn’t qualify for the discount she was trying to give you, but you had your savings that you were willing to use to buy it. With over twenty thousand dollars in it, breaking it in half won’t cause major detriment to any future plans of traveling.

She guides you through the entire process, reading the fine lines for you and informing you of any small things that you need to be aware of. Her presence is a comfort, feeling as if your body has melted in the seat, every bone inside of you feels at peace. Everything feeling a bit easier.

When everything is complete, she has you look over the summary before clicking submit. The small cursor dances around the screen as you swipe down, reading through the extent. You made sure to be thorough and everything looks fine. When the blue button flashes at the bottom, coaxing you to click it, you hesitate for a moment as you take a breath. You look over at Jo, who’s eyes speak for themselves. They’re telling you that you can always take a step back if you’ve come to change your mind. 

The sound of a click is when you let out the breath that you’ve been holding in all this time, falling back into the seat as digital confetti lights up the screen as it shows you the confirmation page. Screenshotting it, Jo is quick to email you a copy for yourself. “You did it!”

“I did it!” Your smile meets the eyes and for once, you’re a little hopeful. Your phone vibrates, one email from Jo and the next from Cybercore as they let you know that the chat box with Dean has been reactivated. Jo watches how your eyes light up and a sliver of your old self is starting to shine through. It makes her tear up at the sight as she inhales.

“Well,” she huffs. “I’ve got to go!”

“Wait,” you stop her, standing up in your seat. “Let me make something for you. I kept you here for a couple of hours and you haven’t eaten a thing.”

You’re rushing to the kitchen, live in action as you pull open the refrigerator door and look behind you towards the blonde. “What would you like?”

Jo remembered that once upon a time, she was envious of you. Didn’t want to have a thing to do with you after you went off and stole her childhood crush. She painted such a bad picture of you in her head, despite all the pleasantries you’ve given to her. You had done nothing to her personally, but she was quick to write you off as some whore in a way to lash out about her feelings. Dean always spoke highly of you, proud to call you his woman. Jo was always his girl. She can see it now. “I understand why Dean loved you so much.”

The tenderness of her voice, the salt water trickling from her eyes catch you off guard as you thought this was a triumphant moment for the both of you. You’d have some sort of comfort now and Jo would receive a hefty commission because of it. “Wh–What? What’s the matter, Jo?”

Sniffling as she wipes away the tears, she dismisses her emotions. “Nothing,” she clears her throat. “And don’t bother. It was a pleasure to help you get things started. Message me when you get the— message me whenever. Good night.”

You frown to yourself, letting the fridge door swing back shut as you let go of the handle. You hope she doesn’t make storming out of your home a habit.

—

The next thirty days are spent with you glued to your phone that it’s become concerning. You lose track of time, barely able to focus at work when you have the next tab open as you converse with Dean. You’ve been meeting deadlines, yes, but you turn in mediocre work that your supervisor is close to reprimanding you for. You feel like yourself again— closer to feeling like yourself again as you’re anticipating the process of Dean becoming a bot. Your mood’s become perkier as the thirty days have come up and you’re advanced to the next and final step. 

It’s become easier to look at his pictures, slipping them into an envelope as you write the address to Cybercore’s main facility. You can’t wait to see that smile again, the way his eyes crinkle up slightly in joy and the jokes he’ll crack the moment he’s up and operating. The killing silence will finally diminish as you’ll come to hear his daily routine. Everything will go back to normal. Everything will feel normal. 

The sun is beating against everything in its pathway when the package comes. Two of the men had to carry the seven foot box inside as you had to wrap your robe around you tightly, leading them inside. “Where do you want us to start working?” 

The rest of your day was spent with the sounds of drilling in your ear, constant chattering and the sound of your awe as you see it being put together. They do it so seamlessly, attaching each arm and ligament with ease as if they’ve done this hundreds of times— they have. You try not to be a nuisance, but you can’t help when you get an inch too close and force the workers to take a step back as they give you a moment to watch it all. Dean’s head is in one of their hands and you have to take a moment by yourself as they put it on last. 

Locking the bathroom door, you have to wash your face with cold water to get yourself under control. Taking deep and calculated breaths as you get a hold of yourself. You hear a deep voice beckoning you out as the entire process is about to finish. Opening the door, you wipe out the creases within your robe, pulling it tighter around your body as you go back to the family area. The air is knocked out of you as the men watch you take it all in. They’ve seen all the heavy reactions and emotions whenever they get the opportunity to set up a Mourningstar. They’re prepared to catch you if you’re going to faint.

“It’s up n’ workin’ now,” a man with long blonde hair pulled into a bun speaks. “Press down on his chest three times n’ he’ll start operating. He’ll have to undergo 24-48 hours before he’s up n’ at ‘em. You think you’ll be fine all by yourself?”

“Thank you so much,” you breathe out. “And I think I’ll be just fine managing him all by myself—” You’ve been able to for a couple years now. This time around shouldn’t be any different. “—Why?”

“We’ve seen a lot of shit happen with people and these Mourningstars,” the man chuckles. “You promise you ain’t gonna faint or sumn’?”

“I’m sure,” you nod. You bid them your farewell, where you tried giving them a tip, but they declined your nice gesture. Even when you tried pushing it into their chest, they still said no. Wishing you the best of luck and advising you to call within a decent amount of time whenever the bot is fully operating just in case there are any malfunctions, they finally leave you alone with the robot— with Dean Winchester back within your possession. 

They’ve left you the instruction manual behind, which gives you something to do in your spare time as you read just how to power him on and off when you need and how to set him up to charge. Fortunately, their battery lives are strong and stable, only needing to charge them every three months. However, reading the manual only takes up only half an hour of your time, and you find yourself staring at him for the majority of the day.

It’s eerie how they have them down to the T. Every blotch and blemish that he left this Earth with, there. Every scar that he had ever adorned, brandished into his skin as you had requested. He’s dressed in a black pair of denim pants, a gray shirt with a flannel and leather jacket overlaying it. Despite the dark shirt, you can see the blue light flashing against his chest, the only sign that he’s not human. Vaguely, you can see the percentage of his update. It’s only at two percent, leaving you to groan as you have to occupy yourself with something to do. Peeking outside the window, the sun is bright and the wind is calling your name. 

You get yourself dressed, adorning a simple and short summer dress as you grab your picnic blanket and your water bottle. Sliding open the patio door, you look back as you close it shut, hoping that your absence will be fine as Dean continues updating. You sit underneath an oak tree, your blanket spread out as you lean against it. It’s refreshing, being outside and feeling the earth around you. It feels like a huge relief on everything that’s been burdening you.

You look back at the house, the beautiful structure of it. You once had the American dream, guarded by a picket fence and a loving husband. No kids, but it was something that the two of you had talked about. You inherited the home after your grandmother’s passing, the deal being that you get married to earn it. The ring on your left hand dazzling in the sun being all the proof and satisfaction that your grandmother’s lawyers needed for you to move in. It’s a shame that she didn’t get to witness the beautiful moment before her death. She’d have loved what you did with the place, where significant changes had happened, but you made sure to keep the essence of her still present. You remembered the moment when you finally unpacked the last box, the satisfaction you felt when you finally tucked the final item away in the cupboard and dusting yourself off.

With a heavy breath, your feet padded against the steps as you went to see Dean. Two weeks right after your marriage, you guys didn’t hesitate moving inside the home. It was a tedious and gradual process as the two of you started moving the boxes in prior, a couple nights ago being the last drop off of every hefty piece of furniture and valuables that couldn’t fit in the back of his Impala. 

Flexing and contracting your back, you can hear the crick as you make your way to the kitchen. The utensils and items within his box are nearly empty. Your body casts a shadow over him, calling for his attention. He grunts when he stands to his feet, eyes heavy with exhaustion as he’s about to put his entire weight on you when he leans over. You giggle as you stagger on your feet, using all your strength to hold him up. “What’re you doing?”

“I’m exhausted,” he groans, arms wrapping around your waist. “Need you to hold me.”

“If you’re fine with me falling to the ground first,” you laugh when he finally stands up. Arms wrapping around the expanse of your waist, he lets out a deep and guttural groan as he relaxes in your touch. You can feel his lips graze your neck, his stubble tickling your exposed skin. He hums as he begins to rock you slowly, “I’m guessing you’re done.”

You nod. “Yeah—” Your voice is barely above a whisper as you take it all in and process that the two of you are married and now have a home together. You pull away from him, eyes glossy with tears. “—Dean, we’re married.”

“Yeah, we are,” he grins, smiling earnestly. 

“And we’ve got a home together,” you add, choking on your sobs. Dean tries to catch every tear that leaves the corner of your eyes, but they’re too fast. 

“We do,” he chuckles. You look around the kitchen in awe, as you let out a breath. 

“It feels so… surreal,” you breathe. “Wh— what do we do now?”

Dean shrugs, eyes lingering on you a devious smirk graces his features, fingers dwindling down to squeeze your ass. “We christen it?”

You meet him with the same energy, daring eyes that stare back at him as you pull him in for a kiss. You moan into it as you feel him pull you closer, hands roaming and playing with the hem of your shirt as a few fingers dip underneath. You pull aware, a fiery look of love and lust driven inside of your eyes. “That’s a nice start of a plan.”

—

“Update is now complete,” his voice sounds from the kitchen, where you’re currently located. Kneading the rising dough, you stop in your tracks the moment you hear his voice. It sounded robotic, but exactly like your Dean. You start to hyperventilate, chest rising and falling erratically. “Now, powering on.” 

You’re frozen in place, unable to move an inch when you hear his footsteps against the wooden floors. Eyes shutting as your hands remain unmovable. You can hear him getting closer, nearing the opening to the kitchen and you gulp. Your breaths get shorter when he’s finally there. You don’t need to open your eyes to tell. 

“There you are,” his deep voice sends a chill down your spine, that robotic cadence dissipating as he says it. He pulls you flush into his arms, making you feel the pressure of his hard chest against your back. He’s cold to the touch, his large hands running down the exposed skin of your arms. His face nuzzles in the crook of your neck, inhaling your scent. “Thought you were hiding from me for a second.”

I would never. Spinning around, you jump into his arms, pulling him tightly into you. It catches him off guard, having him stumble before he’s caught his footing and his arms hold you up steady. He chuckles, “I’ve missed you, too, doll.”

Hearing him call you that again, it has your heart racing as you can’t help but cry into his chest. He feels real— his touch, his soft skin. You can’t feel the metal underneath him as you dig your fingers into his head of hair. “I missed you… so much.”

“I know, babe,” he breathes, holding you close and secure against him. It feels like time has stopped, everything around you frozen in place now that you’re back in his grasp. You’re afraid to let go of him, afraid that if you do, you’ll lose your piece of solace and comfort once more. 

“Don’t ever leave me again,” you beg him. “Please, please, please don’t.”

“I won’t,” he assures you. “I promise.”

Those four words should’ve provided you the comfort you needed, but they don’t as something eats away at your heart— fear. Afraid that something yet again will tear him out of your grasp. 

For the next couple of weeks, everything feels normal. You’re no longer waking up to an empty bed and where Dean used to be cold as ice, he returns with warmth as he slips underneath the covers at night to pull your body against him. You’ve found yourself losing sleep as you’d find yourself looking at him as he has his eyes shut, about to go into sleeping mode. However, he could never shut down when he felt that you were awake and his eyes were lingering on him. He’d chuckle, arm slipping around your waist and telling you to fall asleep. However, you’d only giggle and protest.

“I can’t when I have someone as beautiful as you lying next to me,” you would respond. His hazel green eyes would fall back open as both hands captured your waist and pulled you on top of him, claiming your lips against his. “Now you’re just using my words against me.”

“Well, it’s true,” you groan against him, squirming in his hold and trying to find a position comfy enough. However, he halts you before you could go any further, pupils dilating as he licks at his bottom lip. 

“I’m afraid if you don’t stop, you won’t be getting sleep any time soon,” he says, his voice raspy. Your heart pangs in his chest, unaware that his sexuality was also in his programming. You’re starting to wonder if he’s truly a robot or if Cybercore has found the answer to resurrection. The two of you are met with silence until you’re the first one to break it, moving once more, you have him groaning as his grip around you tightens. You pull him in for a kiss and he tastes sweet, his pink lips dancing against your thick and supple ones as you mewl into the kiss. When you pull away, you share the same hunger and desire in your eyes. “That’s fine by me.”

The next morning, you find it hard to get up for work. A throbbing ache in between your legs as you hear the hum of Dean next to you, a whirring sound in the middle of his chest as a blue light shines through his shirt. You feel weak, every muscle and fiber inside of your bones unable to find the energy to move. However, like clockwork, Dean’s eyes open up next at the feeling of your movement right next to him. A deep chuckle leaves him as he watches how your body lays pliant in the bed, unmoving. “I told you to go to bed.”

“I would’ve if it wasn’t for a certain man,” you retort, still amazed how easy things were to get back into the groove. He’s nothing more than a robot designed to replicate your late lover, but there’s nothing about him that feels faux. Finally do you push yourself up in the bed, breasts falling freely in the cold air as you let out a huge yawn. 

“I did warn you about that, too, didn’t I?” He wears that typical smirk on his face and you can’t help yourself from grabbing the pillow your head was previously resting on to slap him with it. He doesn’t fight back, simply taking it as he watches you in your nude, trailing towards the bathroom and shutting the door behind you to take a shower and get ready for work. You’ve left your phone on the dresser across your bed, it lights up the moment you shut the door as it vibrates. A notification from Sam Winchester coming in, his message reading: Hey (Y/N). Wanted to check up on you and see how things were going. Call me when you get a chance to. 

You’ve had such a busy day that you don’t get back to Sam until you’re on your lunch break, pressing the green dial button the moment you get a chance to. You have a tupperware of chicken alfredo, and you twirl your fork happily in it as the line continues to ring. Sam doesn’t pick until the fourth one, his voice sounding through your line with a “Hello?”

You haven’t spoken to Sam since Dean’s funeral, pushing yourself away from everyone and shutting out the world in the process of doing so. However, Sam never reached out, taking a similar approach with his grieving. You have to admit, it feels nice hearing his voice again. “Sam,” you smile. “It’s nice to hear your voice again.”

“Yeah, uh, it’s nice to hear from you, too.” There’s an awkward silence after that point as you’re trying to think up of a conversation started. Your mind runs towards Dean to tell him about him, but you stop yourself, not sure if Sam is keen on the Mourningstars himself. Fortunately, Sam’s the one to break the silence himself. “How have things been for you? I just wanted to see how you’re holding up.”

“I’m doing great actually.” You’re speaking the truth when you say that, catching him off guard at the chirpiness within your voice. 

“O-oh, really?” Sam asks. “The last time we spoke, you were really torn and talking to some people, you kind of went AWOL.”

You curse yourself, not really sure how to explain yourself now. Sam’s always been observant— him and his brother. You rarely got a thing past them. You hated it at times, this being one of those moments. You pause, trying to concoct something from your mind that’ll drive his suspicions away. “I mean, isn’t that how it is? You’re feeling down one second and the next, you’re trying to get past your feelings.”

Sam sighs on the other line, and you’re not sure if that’s a good sign or not. “(Y/N), just take it easy. Don’t try to ignore your feelings, if anything embrace them and then try to find a way to live with them. Don’t shut them out altogether.”

The breath you take is one of relief, closing your eyes as you clutch your chest. The fork clinks against the glass of your tupperware, resting it inside. “I’m not trying to, just… trying not to focus on—”

Him. Despite the artificial being that waits at home, there are moments that it dawns upon you that he isn’t real. You’ve always known it, it’s in the back of your mind when you see his chest flash blue or he announces that he’s going to update within the next couple of hours or so. You know this, but there are moments when your mind flashes to that wretched night in the hospital, being woken up out of your sleep to learn that your late husband in his actual flesh is going to die. To know that today, he’ll always be dead. 

“I know,” Sam hums, knowing that he struck a nerve within you at your prolonged silence. “Have you tried talking to someone about it? I’ve managed to find a therapist that I’m happy with and it’s helping me come along. I’ve been trying to bury my feelings away, too, and they’re teaching me the harm that it does more than I realize. I think it could help you a lot since it’s been helping me.”

“I have been talking to someone actually,” you blurt, your mind speaking for you before you can truly process what you’re saying. Your heart feels like it’s about to rip out of your throat when you do, cursing yourself for your inability to think. 

“Oh, you have?” Sam says. “Well, that’s good. Hopefully it’s a real person and not a Mourningstar.”

You should’ve known by the hint of laughter that he was only joking, but still. “What?” ripples from your chest the moment that word falls from his mouth, having you freeze in present time as he snickers.

“Did Jo not come to you with her little sales pitch?” Sam clears his throat. “Tried selling me the Mourningstar, and basically asking me if I wanted to replace my brother.”

He snorts. “Like, did she think I was really going to waste thousands of dollars to have something take over my brother’s life?”

You fall silent, mouth going dry as you don’t know how to process his words. Your heart is pounding so loudly against his chest as it sounds louder than Sam does. However, you come to compose yourself in a short manner of time as you clear your throat. 

“(Y/N)? Did I lose you?”

“Sorry,” you cough. “Just had food stuck in my throat. Had to mute my phone, so you didn’t hear. But yeah, Jo did come to me about that. I told her something around the same thing.”

You feel bad for lying, but he’s making you feel a sense of guilt, knowing that you have a knockoff of Dean right at your home. A fool who’s spending thousands just to have a remnant of your late husband. 

“Good because—”

Sam goes on and on about how he thinks the Mourningstar is foolish and how stupid he believes Jo to be for even going around to offer to both you and him. It felt nice to hear his voice, but keyword, it felt nice. Now, you don’t want to talk to him at all. Luckily, your lunch break is about to end and you can go back to work.

“Hey, Sam,” you stop him in the midst of his rant. “My lunch break’s about to end, so I’m gonna have to call you back later.”

“Wait, I just need to tell you—”

“Bye,” you couldn’t do it anymore, hanging up on him and finally giving yourself some relief. You adored the younger sibling, loving him as if he was your own, but you couldn’t do it much further. You lean back in your chair, letting out a heavy sigh. However, shortly after, a text message from said man comes through.

Forgot to tell you, but I was actually coming over to hopefully grab a few things of Dean’s. If you’ll allow me to, anyway. There’s a few sentiments that I wanted to keep. 

It doesn’t make it any better knowing that Dean had given him a spare key. 

Fuck.

You’re racing home the moment you can, telling your supervisor that something came up with one of your family members and that you had to go immediately. You didn’t have a way of contacting Dean, not thinking that you needed to, all things considered. You tried going back to the Mourningstar app, but every time you messaged the AI bot, it gave you an automated message redirecting you to the help center. You curse as you make it to your car, throwing the door open as you don’t hesitate to start it and zoom out of the parking lot as fast as humanly possible.

You swerve and zing past cars, your heart racing as you’re trying to make it home as fast as you can. You hope that the frequent buzzing in your phone is from someone other than Sam, but when it starts ringing and his name pops up on screen, you’re fearing the worst. You decline his call, figuring that you’d rather hear him yelling at you in person so that you can explain everything. 

However, it’s no better when you see his car parked in your driveway. When you open the door, it’s a dreadful sight that you’re greeted with as Dean smiles happily while Sam stands next to him with a frown on his face, ready to rip you apart.

“(Y/N), do you care to explain why you lied to me?” His voice is eerily calm, his brown eyes staring daggers into your soul as he waits for your response. You’ve become speechless, unsure of what to say— where to start.

“Listen, I—” you shut your eyes, turning your head as you don’t want to look at either of them. “I meant it when I told you that I told Jo the same thing. At first, I thought— I thought that the Mourningstar was bullshit. Some way to pawn off people’s money, but Sam… Sam, it works. He’s helping me!”

Sam snorts at that. How you address the robot as if it’s a real person, how you’re so blinded in your desperation that you’ve succumbed to the capitalization of people’s grief. “Do you even hear yourself? He? This thing—” he points at Dean “—It’s not a he!”

“Hey, do I even get to have a say in how I want to be addressed?” the robot comes to finally speak up, making Sam glare at him in disgust. How it sounds like his brother, but could never be him. Not entirely.

“No,” Sam responds, coming to ignore him completely. 

“I know, Sam,” the waterworks are coming to form again. “But, I can’t… I can’t do it without him. I just can’t!”

“But you can’t keep living this way,” Sam comes to sympathize, seeing how the loss of your husband, his brother, had come to hurt you. If there was another way, some force within this world to revive his brother, he’d take it. However, not like this. “Dean wouldn’t have wanted this.”

“I know,” you agree, nodding your head pathetically as it hangs low. Your body trembles as you stand before him ashamed.

“You need real help,” Sam says.

“I know,” you sob. “But I don’t want a life without him to become my normal.”

“Well, you’re gonna have to accept it because I can’t allow this— this thing around you anymore.”

“Wait— What?” Sam grabs ahold of Dean’s arm, pulling it to him as he tries forcing it out the door. When you understand the meaning of his words, that he’s going to take the Mourningstar away from you, cry out in protest. “Sam, wait! Please don’t! I can’t!”

Dean can no longer overlook you crying, how pained you seem to be because of his brother and because of him. He’s designed to provide you comfort and solace, to be what you need to get through life. He’s made a lover, not a fighter, but with all the memories of Dean Winchester, he knows how to throw a punch. “Hey, let me go!”

“If you know what’s best for you,” Sam groans, using his strength to bring his faux brother through the door. “You’d shut up.”

“I should say the same thing to you,” Dean says, not giving his brother the time to process what happens next. The moment his fists connect with Sam’s face, it should’ve been enough force to knock him out completely. However, the younger yet taller brother has always been a sturdy thing, only becoming a bit disoriented before he’s fully back on his feet. His nose was bleeding and his eyesight blurry.

“Did you just—” He doesn’t finish his sentence, anger reverberating against his chest as he pulls his arm back, balling his hand into a fist to reciprocate the same motion. However, not having as much effect as he had initially hoped for. Not programmed like a Cyberguard, but the metal and wires inside of him a sturdy bunch, only a crick is sounded as his head only moves an inch or two. However, he doesn’t stagger on his feet, majorly unchanged. Sam’s eyes widen as his hand reaches for something to knock Dean out cold. 

Seeing how things have come to take a turn for the dark, you try to intervene, but thankfully both men shove you out of the way before you can become a victim within this impending mess. Both of their voices, shouting, “Stay out of this!” in an attempt to keep you safe.

Your home becomes a mess and glass shatters, Dean pushing his little brother against the wall and into the many hanging frames. While obviously hurt, but not backing down, Sam uses whatever he can to make Dean stagger as they both go at it. It’s fierce and ferocious, having you bawling your eyes out as you watch in fright how this might turn out. You can only beg for them to stop, but your sobs go ignored as they continue to fight.

Sam comes to succumb to the bruises and beatings he’s taken, Dean finally having him pinned to the ground and punching at him repetitively until Sam’s knocked out cold. He’s bloody and bruised, but the robot can still detect a steady heartbeat. Fortunately for Sam, his injuries should heal just fine. With a grunt, Dean maneuvers himself to stand as he looks down at his brother and then back at you. He walks over to you, knuckles still bloody as he pulls you into his chest. “I’m sorry that you had to witness that.”

He lets you cry into his chest, staining your work blouse with crimson as he takes in a huge inhale. His eyes shut as his head falls back. “I’d have a drink or two… if I could.”

( author's note. ) thank you to those that took the time out to read this. this fic is my absolute baby.

[ixhika-jsx]

Resources and study tips to get you in cyber forensics

Master post • Part1 • part2

let's get you prepped to be a cyber sleuth without spending any cash. Here’s the ultimate tips and resources.

Ps: you can't become one while doing these pointers but you can experience the vibe so you can finally find your career interest

### 1. **Digital Scavenger Hunts**

- **CTF Challenges (Capture The Flag)**: Dive into platforms like [CTFtime](https://ctftime.org/) where you can participate in cyber security challenges. It's like playing *Among Us* but with hackers—find the imposter in the code!

- **Hunt A Killer (Digitally)**: Create your own digital crime scenes. Ask friends to send you files (like images, PDFs) with hidden clues. Your job? Find the Easter eggs and solve the case.

### 2. **YouTube University**

- **Cyber Sleuth Tutorials**: Channels like *HackerSploit* and *The Cyber Mentor* have playlists covering digital forensics, cybersecurity, and more. Binge-watch them like your fave Netflix series, but here you're learning skills to catch bad guys.

- **Live Streams & Q&A**: Jump into live streams on platforms like Twitch where cybersecurity experts solve cases in real-time. Ask questions, get answers, and interact with the pros.

### 3. **Public Libraries & eBook Treasure Hunts**

- **Library eBooks**: Most libraries have eBooks or online resources on digital forensics. Check out titles like *"Hacking Exposed"* or *"Digital Forensics for Dummies"*. You might have to dig through the catalog, but think of it as your first case.

- **LinkedIn Learning via Library**: Some libraries offer free access to LinkedIn Learning. If you can snag that, you've got a goldmine of courses on cybersecurity and forensics.

### 4. **Virtual Study Groups**

- **Discord Servers**: Join cybersecurity and hacking communities on Discord. They often have study groups, challenges, and mentors ready to help out. It's like joining a digital Hogwarts for hackers.

- **Reddit Threads**: Subreddits like r/cybersecurity and r/hacking are packed with resources, advice, and study buddies. Post your questions, and you’ll get a whole thread of answers.

### 5. **DIY Labs at Home**

- **Build Your Own Lab**: Got an old PC or laptop? Turn it into a practice lab. Install virtual machines (VMware, VirtualBox) and play around with different operating systems and security tools. It’s like Minecraft but for hacking.

- **Log Your Own Activity**: Turn on logging on your own devices and then try to trace your own steps later. You’re basically spying on yourself—no NSA required.

### 6. **Community College & University Open Courses**

- **Free Audit Courses**: Many universities offer free auditing of cybersecurity courses through platforms like Coursera, edX, and even YouTube. No grades, no stress, just pure learning.

- **MOOCs**: Massive Open Online Courses often have free tiers. Try courses like "Introduction to Cyber Security" on platforms like FutureLearn or edX.

### 7. **Scour GitHub**

- **Open-Source Tools**: GitHub is full of open-source forensic tools and scripts. Clone some repositories and start tinkering with them. You’re basically getting your hands on the tools real investigators use.

- **Follow the Code**: Find projects related to digital forensics, follow the code, and see how they work. Contribute if you can—bonus points for boosting your resume.

### 8. **Local Meetups & Online Conferences**

- **Free Virtual Conferences**: Many cybersecurity conferences are virtual and some offer free access. DEF CON has a lot of free content, and you can find tons of talks on YouTube.

- **Hackathons**: Look for free entry hackathons—often universities or tech companies sponsor them. Compete, learn, and maybe even win some gear.

### 9. **DIY Challenges**

- **Create Your Own Scenarios**: Get a friend to simulate a hack or data breach. You try to solve it using whatever tools and resources you have. It's like escape rooms, but digital.

- **Pen & Paper Simulation**: Before diving into digital, try solving forensic puzzles on paper. Map out scenarios and solutions to get your brain wired like a detective.

### 10. **Stay Updated**

- **Podcasts & Blogs**: Tune into cybersecurity podcasts like *Darknet Diaries* or follow blogs like *Krebs on Security*. It’s like getting the tea on what’s happening in the cyber world.

### 11. **Free Software & Tools**

- **Autopsy**: Free digital forensics software that helps you analyze hard drives and mobile devices. Think of it as your magnifying glass for digital clues.

- **Wireshark**: A free tool to see what's happening on your network. Catch all the data packets like you're a digital fisherman.

### 12. **Online Forensics Communities**

- **Free Webinars & Workshops**: Join communities like the *SANS Institute* for free webinars. It's like attending a masterclass but from the comfort of your gaming chair.

- **LinkedIn Groups**: Join groups like *Digital Forensics & Incident Response (DFIR)*. Network with pros, get job tips, and stay in the loop with the latest trends.

### 13. **Practice Cases & Mock Trials**

- **Set Up Mock Trials**: Role-play with friends where one is the hacker, another the victim, and you’re the investigator. Recreate cases from famous cybercrimes to see how you'd solve them.

- **Case Studies**: Research and recreate famous digital forensic cases. What steps did the investigators take? How would you handle it differently?

There you have it—your roadmap to becoming a cyber sleuth without dropping a dime. You don't have time find your interest after paying pennies to different ppl and colleges. You can explore multiple things from comfort of your home only if you want to.

[mincenttheclown]

hi, I'm min, 19 year old nonbinary unfiction creator! im one of the co-creators of the Liminality Mythos and work on a lot of projects in it!

projects im currently working on include:

mourningdove (primary creator/writer) - (yet to be released) A young woman finds an old recording of a lost puppet show from the 80s... but upon looking into it, it seems to have secrets hidden inside it and surrounding the production.

Diary of the Damned (primary creator/writer) - The story of an expecting mother recounting her experience in ending the apocalypse for her future child.

In My Memories (actor/assistant writer) - A digital horror story about a lost Pokémon ripoff with more to it than it seems.

Rain Heart Kawaii Quest (assistant writer/actor) - An interactive ARG Webseries experience that follows a group of sixteen characters trapped in a small Nevada town that seems to reset every now and then, and the local therapist may have something to do with it.

I hope you stick around for a while, I'm mainly cataloging my progress on mourningdove, specifically on making the puppets for it!

If you want to support me financially, heres my kofi! I dont expect anything, but even a dollar would help in furthering my creative endeavors. thank you!!

[paper-mario-wiki]

Your Trollsona is such a damn cool concept! I love the sheer insanity that the RPS unfolds into and I gotta ask, how does their Captchalogue and Fetch Modi work? Those are always another fun bonus way characters quirks are shown

Not quite!

The Sylladex object recovery and creation system is COMPLETELY separate from the RPS system.

Total mastery of the RPS fractal would be DESTRUCTIVELY OVERPOWERED, considering if you knew exactly how each object interacts with the other, you'd be able to instantly resolve any conflict with a single action no matter what. But this is near impossible because the RPS catalogue accounts for all possible concepts, not all possible objects. This is why a double-sided barcode is used instead of the typical hole punch system. You can't captchalogue a kick in the nose, after all.

Each line in the barcode represents a single binary digit. With each digit added, the amount of possible values goes up exponentially. Within only 10 lines in the barcode, 1024 values are possible. But what's even MORE exponentially gigantic is having it be double sided, because then it squares itself instead of just doubling itself. So a two-sided ticker tape with 10 bars on each side would be 1024^2, or 1,048,576 different values. And that's with a code that fits within the circumference of a nickel.

However, if you refer back to the gif with the ticker in it:

That's WAY more than a nickel's length.

And that’s an absolute necessity, because every possible concept must be accounted for. The system is pretty fucking wildly, multiversally, insanely gigantic. Hence the need for extremely dense data to get anywhere.

And even then, the bar code doesn’t actually grant you access to the item that its value represents. The only thing it does get you is access to all relative values, or everything that interacts with that object in a meaningful way. The RPS Chart acts as a gigantic excel spreadsheet which catalogs and calculates how one thing could reasonably negate, counteract, subvert, or otherwise destroy another thing, and vice versa.

You can't just KNOW where something is on a fractal, you have to find it. Like how theoretically you could find every single number combination within the digits of pi, but you'd still have to go looking for it.

Imagine it like playing the Wikipedia game, where you can only get from one place to another by clicking through links on pages, except instead of words with context on a screen, it’s dozens to thousands of arbitrary binary digits. The longer the code, the more quantumly hyper-specific the item.

You're going to have a lot easier of a time finding "cup of water" than you are "Betty McLaughlin's Red Diary From 1997".

This is why Kippyr has to spend as much time studying it as they do, because navigating through the chart with any amount of grace would take several human lifetimes to accomplish. However, with the Seer of Mind classpect, as well as their countless hours of diligent observation and experimentation with the chart, Kippyr is able to gracefully navigate through the fractals with the instinctual finesse of a sea turtle in an underwater slipstream.

NOW. Onto the topic of a Fetch Modus.

Kippyr is a slow adopter of it. Fetch modi are not a necessary element in the Homestuck world’s set of natural laws. For the majority of their life, Kippyr'd prefer to just use their satchel and pockets to carry all their stuff around. But as they progress further into Sgrub, and their session becomes more demanding and complex, they’d eventually develop one that works seamlessly with the RPS system:

The RPS Modi. The way it works is simple: Just throw the shape of the object which would beat the object you’re looking for. If you wanted Rock, you’d throw Paper, if you wanted Paper you’d throw Scissors, and if you wanted Scissors you’d throw Rock.

Simple! Just don't forget the hand shapes :^]

[codingquill]

SQL Fundamentals #1: SQL Data Definition

Last year in college , I had the opportunity to dive deep into SQL. The course was made even more exciting by an amazing instructor . Fast forward to today, and I regularly use SQL in my backend development work with PHP. Today, I felt the need to refresh my SQL knowledge a bit, and that's why I've put together three posts aimed at helping beginners grasp the fundamentals of SQL.

Understanding Relational Databases

Let's Begin with the Basics: What Is a Database?

Simply put, a database is like a digital warehouse where you store large amounts of data. When you work on projects that involve data, you need a place to keep that data organized and accessible, and that's where databases come into play.

Exploring Different Types of Databases

When it comes to databases, there are two primary types to consider: relational and non-relational.

Relational Databases: Structured Like Tables

Think of a relational database as a collection of neatly organized tables, somewhat like rows and columns in an Excel spreadsheet. Each table represents a specific type of information, and these tables are interconnected through shared attributes. It's similar to a well-organized library catalog where you can find books by author, title, or genre.

Key Points:

Tables with rows and columns.

Data is neatly structured, much like a library catalog.

You use a structured query language (SQL) to interact with it.

Ideal for handling structured data with complex relationships.

Non-Relational Databases: Flexibility in Containers

Now, imagine a non-relational database as a collection of flexible containers, more like bins or boxes. Each container holds data, but they don't have to adhere to a fixed format. It's like managing a diverse collection of items in various boxes without strict rules. This flexibility is incredibly useful when dealing with unstructured or rapidly changing data, like social media posts or sensor readings.

Key Points:

Data can be stored in diverse formats.

There's no rigid structure; adaptability is the name of the game.

Non-relational databases (often called NoSQL databases) are commonly used.

Ideal for handling unstructured or dynamic data.

Now, Let's Dive into SQL:

SQL is a :

Data Definition language ( what todays post is all about )

Data Manipulation language

Data Query language

Task: Building and Interacting with a Bookstore Database

Setting Up the Database

Our first step in creating a bookstore database is to establish it. You can achieve this with a straightforward SQL command:

CREATE DATABASE bookstoreDB;

SQL Data Definition

As the name suggests, this step is all about defining your tables. By the end of this phase, your database and the tables within it are created and ready for action.

1 - Introducing the 'Books' Table

A bookstore is all about its collection of books, so our 'bookstoreDB' needs a place to store them. We'll call this place the 'books' table. Here's how you create it:

CREATE TABLE books ( -- Don't worry, we'll fill this in soon! );

Now, each book has its own set of unique details, including titles, authors, genres, publication years, and prices. These details will become the columns in our 'books' table, ensuring that every book can be fully described.

Now that we have the plan, let's create our 'books' table with all these attributes:

CREATE TABLE books ( title VARCHAR(40), author VARCHAR(40), genre VARCHAR(40), publishedYear DATE, price INT(10) );

With this structure in place, our bookstore database is ready to house a world of books.

2 - Making Changes to the Table

Sometimes, you might need to modify a table you've created in your database. Whether it's correcting an error during table creation, renaming the table, or adding/removing columns, these changes are made using the 'ALTER TABLE' command.

For instance, if you want to rename your 'books' table:

ALTER TABLE books RENAME TO books_table;

If you want to add a new column:

ALTER TABLE books ADD COLUMN description VARCHAR(100);

Or, if you need to delete a column:

ALTER TABLE books DROP COLUMN title;

3 - Dropping the Table

Finally, if you ever want to remove a table you've created in your database, you can do so using the 'DROP TABLE' command:

DROP TABLE books;

To keep this post concise, our next post will delve into the second step, which involves data manipulation. Once our bookstore database is up and running with its tables, we'll explore how to modify and enrich it with new information and data. Stay tuned ...

Part2

[christiansorrell]

MeatCastle GameWare Store Launch Sale!

My entire catalog is now available at the MCGW Store! After months of frankly terrible interactions with my last fulfillment partner (more on that later, perhaps in a future Missive), I have finally gotten my inventory back, set up my own store, and have a much better setup overall. To celebrate, EVERYTHING (print AND digital) is 30% off (applied at checkout)! VISIT THE SHOP HERE!

The entire catalog of MCGW-published supplements are here:

The Bloodfields at Blackstar Station (Mothership 1e)

Corpo Culture Killed My Dog (Mothership 1e/System-Free)

Tunnels in White (Liminal Horror)

MeatCastle GameWare Annual #1 (Mothership 1e, Mork Borg, and System-Free)

The Mole on PIRAD ONE (Mothership 1e)

There is a Goblin on the Loose in Icarus Station (Mothership 1e)

ULTIMATE BADASS: Optional Action Movie Rules (Mothership 1e)

You can grab EVERYTHING I’ve ever made in print for around $50 USD or get it all digitally for just $26! The sale will run from now until the evening of 12/10 (so two full weeks)!

Also, @indiepressrevolution will have both The Bloodfields at Blackstar Station and There is a Goblin on the Loose in Icarus Station on sale at Pax Unplugged this weekend (Dec. 1st-3rd) at Booth 3426!

[sexyirish7]

Animals Wallpaper

This is a wallpaper set created in anticipation of the upcoming addition of more infant interactions to Sims 4 base game.

There are 10 swatches: Bear with hearts, Cat with hearts, Cow, Dog with bones, Fox with acorns, Koala with eucalyptus leaves, Monkey with bananas, Pig with clover, Rabbit with carrots, and Squirrel with leaves.

UPDATED MARCH 12, 2023 Added ability to search catalog using search terms: sexyirish7 and si7 Added customized thumbnail

DOWNLOAD for FREE:

SFS no ads

OR at Patreon*: https://www.patreon.com/posts/animals-77245108

*You must be over 18 to access my Patreon page.

Creations by SexyIrish7

This wallpaper was produced as a standalone recolor of Base Game Pure Expressions Paint using Sims 4 Studio, Gimp, and Inkspace.

*******

CREDITS:

Software credits:

Sims 4 Studio v. 3.2.0.3 (Star): https://sims4studio.com

GIMP v. 2.10.32: https://www.gimp.org/

Inkscape v. 1.2: https://inkscape.org/

Thank you to the creators and moderators producing tutorials and answering questions!

*******

Image Credits:

Animal Pattern art images purchased from Etsy seller ASDigitaleStudio

Image credit ©ASDigitaleStudio https://www.etsy.com/listing/885453902/animals-digital-paper-animal-scrapbook

*******

Credits for CC used in Screenshots:

Onyxium https://www.thesimsresource.com/artists/Onyxium/ 

Onyxium Edison Rug

Onyxium Sleepi Teddy Bear

@pierisim

Pierisim https://www.patreon.com/pierisim 

Pierisim Domaine Du Clos Part 3 – Door Single

https://www.patreon.com/posts/domaine-du-clos-74404702

@simcredibledesigns

SIMcredible https://www.patreon.com/SIMcredible 

SIMcredible! Spinning Joy Mobiles Sheep

SIMcredible! Naturalis Decor Crib

*******

TOU:

Do not re-upload and claim as your own

Do not re-upload and hide behind a paywall

[blacktobackmesa]

So since we (kinda) know what Benreys house looks like. What do the other ai's houses look like? Are they copy paste in regards to the general floorplan or did Gordon go out of his way to customize each? Also what style of furniture/decor (if there's any cohesive style at all) do each of the ai's have? Asking for fanart related reasons.

Gordon didn't do much to customize the houses before everyone moved in. He gave everybody roughly the same floor plan (adjusted for number of residents per house) with plenty of options to renovate and customize things to their liking. Each home started out with some pretty basic-looking furniture in roughly the same arrangement in each house, but everybody has a phone with a digital furniture catalog for customizing and replacing things. Gordon can help move heavy items with his godly desktop interface powers, but he can be kind of clumsy when interacting objects with three-dimensional space from an isometric view. It's better to enlist his help when he's "visiting".

As for style? Oh man that's a big question. I've written before that Darnold likes mod décor, but tries to keep style balanced with usefulness. Tommy has a taste for kitsch, decorating with collectables on the walls and conversation pieces, all with bright accent colors. His dad's not too sure what his own taste is, so he likes what Tommy likes.

For the Boomers, their old living space was made up of memories more than a solid decorating style-- standard issue dormitory furniture modified to death, the big ugly floral couch from Coomer's ex-sister-in-law, and whatever they could fit in their small on-site apartment. Now that they've got a whole house and yard to work with, Bubby gets to figure out how to live in a real house for the first time. As a result, the couple's home decor style is... uh, very lived in. Honestly I don't know the best way to describe it, I just think of my own grandparents' house full of curiosities and whatever suited them best.

I welcome suggestions and different interpretations of this!

[ourladyofomega]

Do you remember life as it was pre-internet and pre-smartphone? Is it something you are nostalgic for? What aspects of your life still are like the pre-internet days that you anticipate to stay that way (at least for 10 more years)?

Absolutely, because I experienced it. Specifically, the last few years before grasping PCs full-time in community college. Back then, my diaries weren't written with pen and paper. I hit ‘record’ on my tape deck and have it write it all for me. I listen to those cassettes (that I still have and have been all digitized) and they instantly return me to the alternative and hip-hop / rap's golden era; back when we had Biggie and 2Pac. The feelings were different. The style, the vibe, the type of people around me. There was this constant camaraderie because everyone was around you. I always had friends and plenty of moments within reach. Meeting people outside the neighborhood was way more interesting because they were the type mine didn't have.

Each song that I'm listing right now still gives me a very specific moment and feeling experienced by me, for me, and only me. Songs like Da Youngstas' "Hip-Hop Ride" and Stone Temple Pilot’s “Vasoline” when my family and I took the ferry to Mashantucket, listening to Crooklyn Dodgers' eponymous track on my Walkman when I walked home from school, or Soundgarden's "Black Hole Sun" as a bargaining chip to win the favor of girls from another neighborhood. Notorious B.I.G. & Method Man “The What” and O.C.’s “Time’s Up” were the soundtrack to when I spent a week in Staten Island with my then-hood cousins. Sitting on my friend’s curb while listening to The Doors' "Light My Fire", or hearing Cutmasta D.C.’s “Brooklyn’s In The House” while I was crushing on someone I never met before. I can go on ad infinitum. The music meant so much to me that I started making seasonal mixtapes to revisit those moments anytime I want. Those feels still get to me to this day. I could also say the same for VHS. I literally have hundreds of tapes stored with me. It was a race to record every Philadelphia deathmatch and classic (Seventies and Eighties) game show because us fans feared they’d be lost forever. All of us has some Marion Stokes in us. Some more than others. I still kept hitting ‘record’ while I began record-shopping and found rare titles through backpage catalogs, bought compilations and magazines to discover new artists, and relied on word-of-mouth and mixtape trades amongst friends. This was what music-chasers had before MP3s amplified it all for everyone, including myself.

Even gaming. Going out of your way to the video store and literally borrow or buy and keep physical games - the solid state-era. Fighters were so much fun when you had everyone on the block at your house with no actual fist-fights and crucial shit broken. Or, having a literal crowd of people surrounding you during a one-on-one at Street Fighter found at every pizzeria, stationery, or laundromat. Human interaction was king back then. It was somewhat of a less toxic aura of life before smartphones, social media, or downloading took the mystique out of everything we experience now and poisoned us with repetition re-enforcement.

Now? We’re all used to it. It’s routine for everyone. The same ubiquitous being shoves all the world’s ills and hard pills to swallow down your throat while giving you an equal amount of solace, wisdom, and outreach in return. We traded in all the mystique of discovering things we once never knew of for the convenience of finding and getting what we want, when we want - with quick decisions to boot. We’ve taken it for granted. I still do everything I’ve done timelines ago, albeit differently now. I’ve always stayed in touch with the past while always moving forward and grasping the moments ahead.

Things changed when my uncle gifted my dad a Dell desktop and monitor. He loved free music. We were surprised that we could get anything we wanted instantly. We never looked back since. My music knowledge exponentially exploded through the roof thanks to the digital tide. Still does. I’ve always appreciated the classic synthpop, industrial, golden-era hip-hop / rap, alternative, hardcore, and electronic era while staying in touch with sampling, and discovering d.i.y., synthwave, noise, d-beat, indie, metalcore, long-lost African tapes, and deafening shoegaze over the last few years.

Discoveries of the last calendar decade are part of my current experiences. I can hear Crystal Castle’s “Pap Smear” in my head every time I drive to the radio station in cold Winter nights. The sounds of Suicide’s “Cheree” marked the time I re-connected with a former potential. L.I.E.S. Music For Shut-Ins, Dum Dum Girls’ “Bhang Bhang”, and Tantor’s “Niedernwöhren” stamped my time in Lindenhurst, Hauppage, and Ronkonkoma respectively. Bereket Mengistaab’s “Lebay”, Antwon’s “Helicopter”, and Gong Gong Gong’s “Siren” defined all the walks to the neighborhood veteran’s park. Black Marble’s “A Great Design” forever reminds me of that sunny June day in Greenpoint waiting in line to see Cold Cave. Both pandemic shut-ins and a day out with a mutual / potential would meet at Jade Imagine’s “Remote Control” and Eddie Russ’ “Zaius”. Yard Act’s “Dark Days” for the pinball arcade revival and the drive out to Williamsburg’s Rough Trade. And how can I forget Blonde Redhead’s “Melody Experiment” to mark a triple crown September weekend of family reunions in Staten Island, Cold Waves XI, and a drop-dead birthday gift from one of my all-time favorites?

I still spend hundreds, if not thousands, of dollars carefree on vinyl, cassettes, and discs while acquiring and salvaging everything digitally. No more magazines, replaced with tons of music sites and outlets. (Again, downloading and the endless-open of accessing sounds made it too easy.). You used to buy blind at the record store and be totally walloped at something you never imagined before. Now, you’ll find it everywhere online with no effort. Have all the free cards, spins, and rolls you want. I remember making my first online order ages ago, and smelled the production those fresh packages of vinyl records and discs in the mail. I’ll still purchase rare musicks online that I won’t find in stores.

Backseat rides with Walkmans were replaced with iPods and now iPhones on train lines to New York City; allowing me to carry flat, faceless MP3s rather than physical art, liner notes, thank-yous, and that sugary smell of plastic, booklets, and J-cards. It all still produces new memories and visions to this day. The mixtapes were replaced by CD-R’s for a few years before creating simple personal playlists I still make to this day.

Former childhood memories of opening / closing credits and themes, station i.d.’s, production credits, commercials, and chyrons are re-captured again with a quick rip. Most of the essential shows of my wasted youth becamse a few keywords away. Emulation leaves the door open to an era when it was simpler, more charming, and fun. Not today with the endless parade of stoic first-person shooters devoid of personality and micro-transactions nickel-and-dime you while providing misogyny / misandry, endless shit-talking, swatting, and fault-finding in everyone - all enjoyed by your lonesome online.

So many people assumed that vinyl records, cassettes, and video / pinball arcades fell into the wayside because of “better” technology. They surged back because we still appreciate and want the real thing. We’ve done a great job carrying everything over digitally and still kept it all.

Oh, I almost forgot. About people:

We’ve been facing technology as a double-edge sword bringing out the best and worst out of all of us, pushing out everything for the whole world to see. Remember what I mentioned earlier about one hand poisoning you while the other cures?  

It’s amplified world ills that always existed but made more apparent: rigged elections, the media selling war and dictatorships, disinformation, online gambling, political division, trauma and desensitization of violence and sex, losing privacy - all in an accelerated rate. We worried more about it now, now more than ever.

We never stressed over constant triggers, reminders, fear of missing out, or seeing your life in stasis as friends, families, rivals, and enemies move on (as a form of unintentional competition) like we do now. We shelve daylight and beautiful days for the hypnotism of constant mind-numbing updates, communication, and lethargy. Or, how young girls are constantly told they’re not good enough, learn about the double-standard, be gaslighted, or put themselves out there all-or-nothing to be noticed.

Dating was way easier back then because we didn’t have the bad ideas we have now. Dating sites created a power to pick and choose easily who our next potential or interest is; for winners to treat people like a commodity, dispose of, and ghost them. A comedy of errors for the losers starring broken-down self-esteem and self-confidence, paranoia, blatant intentions, loneliness, and game-playing more apparent. All the hands played are face up and for all to see. Draw, play, and discard at will.

It used to be that you wouldn’t know or believe what former classmates, co-workers, significants, or associates were up to through hearsay. Now it’s all within reach. Imagine being floored when you see your exes- have families, kids, or criminal records. Feel the sting when former #1’s smile with their new partners, or be totally surprised when others lives didn’t turn out as expected. Careers, money, marriage, relationships, adventures, accomplishments, births, deaths, suicides. Some have made you feel vindicated, at level with your peers, heartbroken, or missing out while everyone moves forward.

We throw rocks at people or hurt feelings from a distance, run, and get away with it. We pick and choose who lives and careers we can ruin in an instant, who to ridicule, or define someone with a ten-second meme for the rest of their lives. Or the many new ways people in general can be nasty towards each other. There’s so much bitterness, one-upsmanship, snarkiness, and manufactured drama because we allowed (social) media to run our minds for us. No middle-ground. Pick a side and vilify anyone who disagrees with you because we’re always right, even when we’re wrong. Demonize those who do the same things you do as well. It’s made us into miserable troublesome animals.

But…

Life for me has been so different since the divide that I’ve experienced quite a few events I normally wouldn’t. I started using this hellsite years ago to create an online journalism portfolio - which later on became a place for design, writing, and photography. It’s allowed me to document my time in radio (WUSB) and also show everyone how diverse, original, and open I am about myself and music. I love the gratification when someone reaches out to me about a favorite artist or record, and I love sharing some rare or obscure things only I know about that no one else does. It’s made what I do a unique experience.

I’ve met mutuals that I’d never even thought I’d ever meet (including two from my neighborhood!). There’s specific mutuals who untapped my potential, who I’d do wonderful things for that I wouldn’t for anyone else. These are the same people who I learned to trust and allowed me to be open with, minus the hair-trigger persecution, judgment, and ridicule from the rest. I keep my lines open for my closest ones trapped in destructive addiction, anxiety, bi-polarity, and isolation.

I’ve taken social and world events more seriously. It’s made me to give support who are worse off than me, to have compassion for people, to see opposite side of things, and recognize the real from fake. I have no patience for sensationalist tabloid garbage or the new reverse of ‘fake news’, and go right to what really matters to me: police brutality, the ongoing Palestine / Israel war, LGBTA rights, women’s rights, and other issues at hand.

I returned to my childhood I once abandoned since YouTube was very young. I constantly find everything jazz, sample, and crate-digging from that era to stay in touch with who I am.

Not even ten years ago, I couldn’t even fathom the concept of working at home. I left a decade of physical retail to do remote sales, and still stayed with the company to keep my health insurance, savings, and my time-off. I don’t deal with people’s attitudes, awkward interactions, or be forced into uneasy situations anymore. A literal live-saver.

Conversely, the post-internet era had introduced some hardcore pain in my life. I had one instance when a local mutual I wanted to meet tore my heart right out. Real bad. She’s why my journey into anxiety, depression, and mental health advocacy all started. No thanks to her. Another potential I met entered into my life thanks to social media (pre-Hellsite). She was someone who later on became an addict and I dated her for three months. She dumped me and burned her bridges when her boyfriend overdosed and died. I’ve also reached out to interests and potentials whom I made plans with; only for them to cancel at the very last minute. Their actions left me a “what-if” moment that’ll stay with me forever. It’s an all-or-nothing game we’re faced to play if we want to win. I look back and ended up accepting things I used to be dismissive of, and learned some things about myself I never expected to.

Yeah. Crazy to think that we experienced a change in our lifetimes - a Pandora’s Box - that we can never close. What used to be a novelty is now the norm, and what we used to take for granted is now a novelty in itself (the Othello effect). I know all these major constants will continue on, through whatever form or favor they become. Lord only knows what it will be. Place your bets now. **********

You’re more than free to ask me the same question again in 25 years. By then, you might ask me if I remember life as it was pre-dictatorship, what I’m nostalgic for, and what aspects of my life have stayed the same since. Count your lucky stars we don’t end up there.

[afreakingdork]

Weak Spot - Chapter 18

RotTMNT Donatello x Reader

Warnings: Aged-up Turtles, Romance, Meet Cute, Villain Donatello, Cussing, Crushes, Xenophobia, Fear, Intimidation, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Hurt/Comfort, Love, AFAB Reader, Vaginal Sex, Sex Rough, Sex, Penis In Vagina Sex, Creampie, Teasing, Scent Kink, Sexual Tension, Breeding Kink, Multiple Orgasms, Cunnilingus

Synopsis:  Though it hadn't come easily, as these things rarely do, you found yourself in a whirlwind romance with a handsome and mysterious mutant. His idiosyncrasies had been easy to ignore as attraction grew into something more. However, will love endure when the unknowns about him end up being far darker than you ever considered?

Huge shout outs both @some-guy-named-dominyk for giving me one idea for the chapter and @amutantturtleenthusiast for another!

Fem!Reader References/Warnings Below Cut

Also available on Ao3

First 💜 Previous

Last warning for the 🍋 under the cut. Minors DNI!

Fem!Reader References/Warnings: many clit mentions, folds sometimes, a few cunts, maybe a pussy, and a few breast plays

Dropping your duffle by the door, you looked out at Donnie’s apartment. Across from you his computer was lit up, but all the screens were occupied empty purple space. As was the norm, you’d been sent up digitally and you side stepped to see where the tenant was. “Don?”

He came around the corner in a flurry of motion with some sort of tool in hand. “I was reviewing the calibrations.” He approached his desk where he exchanged the instrument for a rag. “Wait there.”

“Sure.” You shifted your weight back on your heels enough to lift your toes. The excitement had been stewing for the past week threatened to boil over.

Reaching up to the display, Donnie flipped a finger over it and a page came up. You perked up to absorb how he interacted with the monitor, but only caught a glimpse of him scanning a long list. The items seemed checked off and he swiped it away before you could count the seemingly endless catalog. “Okay.”

The voice sounded more for him so you waited with a little wiggle of your hips.

One step away from the computer, he froze up and you watched the computations move through his mind. It took a moment for the processor to catch up before he returned to himself and then tossed the rag back to address you. “Greetings.”

“Hey.” You smiled. “Doesn’t seem like you’re ready for me.”

There was a hint of rigidity to his posture, but a fond light in his eye. “While it is true that my original timeline moved up, I would never deploy an unfinished product.”

“Uh huh…” You tipped your head, playing up your disbelief. In reality you had no point of reference for this sort of thing, but a light tease usually prompted him.

He crossed the space and in doing so you took him in. His wraps nearly blended into a lethally tight black tank on his torso which dipped down showing a peak of plastron and hips before black joggers took up the slack to his ankles. It gave him the appearance of wearing a cold shoulder top and the prominence of his shoulders was difficult for you to tear your gaze away from. His head appeared in your eye line and you knew you were caught. “Do you doubt me?”

“No, I’ll just have to rely on that trust.” You mirrored tilt and watched him hitch.

He still hadn’t gotten used to that little revelation.

“Are you going to ask me if I’m excited?”

He stopped a foot shy of you in evaluation. “You clearly are.”

You rolled your eyes. “It’s rhetorical.”

He drew closer by swaying back and form in a hypnotic waltz. “Are you…” His face ended up right near your cheek. “…excited?”

“Staying over for a three day weekend with you?” You turned into him. “Absolutely.”

His gaze flicked from your eyes to your lips as he weighed something.

You opened your mouth to reassure him that he didn’t have to push himself when his mouth slotted over yours. As if he’d been waiting for that response, he immediately pushed his tongue in and, as he probed, a little mewl caught in your throat. He then pulled away from his taste with his lips ghosting over yours. “Pose your rhetorical question in kind.”

“Are you excited?” You chanced stealing a small kiss and he allowed it.

“In truth, I am conflicted by at least a dozen things, but I have checked my calculations far more times than that.”

“And not just for whatever this machine is.” You caught his lips again and he moved with you. It was true that whatever preparations he had done for the chase had multiplied ten times that for whatever this was. The red herrings were removed and he had been deeply serious. He considered every contingency and had even stopped by your apartment after work to take your measurements. He was all business which you found all the more alluring. It heavily contrasted the barely restrained Donatello of the last venture and played heavily into the staunch scientist you had seen little of. Though not something you had felt before, it triggered a strong desire to break that man down.

It was a knowledge you had to stow away for later.

For now, the priority was finding a safe way to build back up your relationship. Resisting your new urges, you’d complied in a straightforward manner. Tempered by the prior failing, it felt as neither of you would fall for cautious optimism. Your current excitement stemmed from the fact that regardless of whether his invention worked out, you’d still be spending the weekend together. If, for whatever reason, it or the positive reinforcements failed, you’d still made a big leap together. Secured by that, you now only had to wait for the grand reveal. 

With an extra little peck, Donnie pulled away. “Breakfast?”

“A light one as requested.”

He stepped back and flicked his wrist. A curtain pulled across the partition between this room and his bedroom.

“Woah.”

“Water consumption?”

“Uh, 16 and half glass so like 18 oz?”

He nodded and walked backwards while ushering you to follow.

You resisted the urge to look towards the curtain as you passed it over to his desktop.

“Permission to perform a wellness check?” His air was easing up as he followed the script you’d already been given.

“Granted.” You held out your arm and he placed a blood pressure cuff on you. As he came away from it, he seemed especially enthralled with your appendage as he traced down and clipped a pulse oximeter to your index finger. He then activated the cuff and reached for a otoscope. He waited for the readings before reaching towards his monitors in a way that looked like second nature. A medical chart with many blanks materialized and his eyes stayed glued to it while he reached down to absently move a clipboard. It revealed a mechanical keyboard with black and grey keys that had punctuated purple labeling. Utilizing a combination of ten-key and touch display, he input the information as you gawked openly.

“Your readings are satisfactory.”

“Good.”

Abandoning the computer temporarily, he brought up the otoscope. “Focus here.” He tapped his forehead and used the light to check your eyes. “You can ask.”

“Am I going to get much beyond that you built it?” You watched as he turned and made a note.

“The car’s interface is an extension of this one.” He came back and gently took your chin. “Ears.”

“Ready.” You turned your head and felt his hand coax you along before he looked in one side. “Extension as in a copy or can they interact?”

A check there and he motioned you the other way. “Seamless interconnectivity.”

“With your watch too.” You obliged and he slowed where he was raising his implement.

His surprise gave way to a tiny smirk. “It’s not a watch.”

You immediately tried to look, but he had your chin. He waited to make sure you wouldn’t try again before looking in your other ear.

“I’m not wearing it now. I can interact with my system anywhere in the apartment.”

“With the flick of your wrist…” You hummed and he pulled away to make a few more notes. You watched until his hand returned to your chin where he pressed down gently to get you to open your mouth. You complied with a breathy jaw drop and a tease. “It’s a little early for that don’t you think?”

His thumb kneaded up into the plump of your lip before pulling it down in a counterstrike that you weren’t expecting. “In due time.”

You resisted a smile as the otoscope’s blaring light was back. You flattened out your tongue with a vowel, he observed and then set the implement aside to make his notations.

“How’d you know about my tech-gauntlet?”

“You tried to use it to summon the car-” You dropped off unwilling to name the bad day in case it brought any negative energy with it. 

He eyed you suddenly.

It had been an odd detail that stuck out to you when you barely remembered so many others.

“Name, date, time.”

You knocked out the first two easily, but looked around to find there was no clock. You watched one of Donnie’s finger raise and a comically large atomic one appeared on a side monitor. “8:13am.”

He nodded and turned in a way that said he was making his final notes.

“Not gonna listen to my heart?”

He didn’t look away, but you could see the edges of his smile. “Heart, lungs, and intestines,” he clarified. “I don’t need to.” He reached up with one hand and tapped the side of his head where his ears would be.

“Tympanum.” You clicked your tongue.

He seemed pleased and closed out the window. “Ideally I would have liked to run a stress test.”

You opened your mouth and closed it.

“I have an EKG…” He shifted his weight onto one hip to look at you. “How’s the gym been?”

Your eyes widened. “I’ve only been a few times.” You gave a sheepish grimace as you definitely needed to get that schedule on track. “Tough in the usual way, I guess.”

He held no judgment and moved around you.

“You said gauntlet, but wouldn’t that be bulkier?”

He was quiet and you spun around to watch him. You found him not thinking the statement over, but instead exhibiting the usual signs as when he wanted to drop something. You frowned a little and he reached up to grasp the curtain. Switching gears and, not realizing he was ready to present, you walked over until you were centered in front of the shielded entry. You prepared yourself by setting your shoulders and raising your head to cue him in.

His eyes darted away and you imagined it was the equivalent of him bringing up the tab with his notes. “I present: B.E.D.F.A.S.T.”

He psychically walked the curtain down and you were first struck by the fact that his bed was nowhere to be seen. Curious, you stepped forward into the now relatively open room and approached the panel on the wall where the low headboard usually sat. It had a bulk that was difficult to see straight on and there were seven punctured holes dotting it in two clear lines of three with a single one centered at the bottom. It took up most the wall, but it’s sleek black design almost made it seem like a focal art piece.

Approaching it from the side to count the inches it protruded, you turned your head to Donnie. “How does it work?”

Holding out his right hand he made a turn over motion before extending a finger. Out from the top and bottom two holes extended black mechanical arms with cuffs at the end. Having been close to the machine, you took a surprised step back at them.

“High grade titanium covered in a similarly rated silicone.”

You stared at it as you backtracked over to Donnie side. “Wha…?”

“No exposed metal.” He clarified softly.

You nodded, unable to look away.

“Bondage Enriched Dynamic Fulfilling Aerial Stimulation Tool. It’s state of the art.”

The words sank in with ever widening eyes.

“I debated the use of ‘ergonomic,’ but it didn’t flow as well with ‘dynamic,’ which was a must.”

“Yeah, not something I would compare to my office chair…” You shrank a little closer to him, but felt a withdrawal. A quick survey found Donnie on a similar but different edge as he tried to gauge your reaction. He was putting his creation on display for you.

It was the first time he had directly showed you his work.

Bouncing to recover based on that, you walked straight up to the thing. “I’ll be strapped in?”

“Yes, you’ll find it exceeds the comfort of some chair as it was hand crafted to your exact specifications.”

“Aerial…” You tried not to pale. “Um… Don’t take this the wrong way, but how does this help us?”

Donnie’s head dipped and he stepped closer with nerves bunching his shoulders. “For you, this is a tool of immense pleasure. I was already in the process of crafting it before… the chase occurred.” He looked away from you and to the machine. “You’ve been proactive in your own healing, so this could be thought of as a reward. If you are up to it, as well, the silicone is removable.”

You gave a faint nod as half your equation was missing from the explanation.

“Based on my calculations, your first run should exceed no longer than 12 hours. That is why I summoned you early. While flexible, my ideal timeline would have you settled in by 830am which would then have you out by sunset. You should be thoroughly blissed-out at which point and the bulk of your aftercare would occur in the dark if tenable.”

That made a little more sense, but still didn’t address him.

“Everything has been taken care of. You already attended to some of your needs prior, but the intuitive system will constantly assess you. It collects waste fluids and disposes of them. Your vitals are on constant monitor. Drinking water will be automatically offered. There are five individual fail safes. I also have full control over the machine’s output. You will be under my full observation the entire time where I will be checking in what I assume might be an infuriating amount of times to ensure you will not go past a single second of discomfort.”

That sounded well and good, “But…”

“I know it seems as if I am neglected. However, this is something I desire. Being able to…” He turned his head towards you, but his eyes stayed lowered to the floor. “…see you in the state I imagine you’ll be in.” He looked back to the machine. “It may not appear so as I am taking great care mitigate excitement, but I want this, very much so.”

You relaxed a little and walked to his side. “Alright.”

With slight hesitation, he moved his gaze to you.

“So!” You readied yourself again. “I’m clean, fed, hydrated, passed my medical assessment, now what?”

He gestured towards the bathroom. “Strip down, relieve yourself if necessary, and come join me.”

You nodded it and made it approximately three steps before something hit you which cause you to spin around. “D-did you say… 12 hours?!”

He was testing something on one of the arms and a slight smirk curled up the corner of his lip. “You’ll do splendidly. I believe you’ll make it the full time, but there is no shame if you tap out even immediately.”

You stared at him a moment longer before robotically pivoting.

He was certifiably insane.

What had you gotten yourself into?

Closing the bathroom door behind you, you methodically undressed and folded your clothes up. Doing a few final checks in the mirror, you padded out on bare feet against the cool hardwood. You idly remembered how you used to want to cover up outside of illicit activities. It seemed like a far cry to the version of you that now strode easily over to him. It was hard to have shame when your partner both seemingly felt none in regards to nudity and eyed you the way Donnie always did. His appreciation extended to every part of your body and was palpable as he stepped away from whatever final checks he was doing. His eye scanned you and you shifted side to side to give him a good view.

“Come here.”

You drew close and in doing so a sort of negative realization hit him. You tried not to let your disappointment show as he moved away and held out a hand for you to stand near B.E.D.F.A.S.T. Once close, he herded you into position without making contact. You ended up with your back to the panel, about a foot from the machine, and facing away from it.

He stood in front of you and the wounded edge to his eye mixed with a light anticipation. “The initial movements will be fast because getting you into position quickly is the prime comfort objective.”

You nodded. “Alright. Walk me through what will happen.”

“The arms will lock into place around your wrists and ankles before hoisting you up. It will be calibrating in real time and extensions will form to accurately support your weight. You’ll know it has done its job when it both stops moving and you reach a suitable suspension.”

“Okay.” You took a deep breath and let it out slowly.

“It both moves on its own and I have full control.”

“It’s you.” You confirmed with a small nod.

“It’s me.” He agreed and took a few steps back. “Ready?”

“Time?” You joked.

His lids dropped and he made a show of looking back at his computer. “8:31.”

“We’re late, whatever shall we do?!” You pretended to bemoan with the back of your hand to your head.

“Terminating exercise…” His expression hardened.

“Wait!” You reached out and he waited. “Serious. I’m very serious.”

“Countdown.” He folded his arms.

“On three.”

He gave a nod and brought a hand up at the ready.

“1, 2, 3…”

It wasn’t so much a loud whirr, but you could hear B.E.D.F.A.S.T. come alive as Donnie curled a finger into his palm. The arms adjusted themselves outward into your periphery before coming in with laser targeting towards your wrists. A loose cuff locked there and then automatically shrank down to the exact size of your arm. You looked down just in time to see the resizing around your ankles before you were lifted off the ground. A little yelp escaped you despite knowing this is exactly what would happen and your ass bottomed out your weight from your limbs. Something shifted out before making its way around your waist. The sensation was odd as the smooth silicone seemed to grow until a new cuff formed around your torso. A similar feeling curled up your back, creating a spinal support column that then grew into a loose collar around your throat. A small outcropping dipped up into your hair line to support your head before you were shifted into a spread position. With little rocks, your weight was tilted until it evened out and, just as Donnie described, you felt as though you were floating.  

With B.E.D.F.A.S.T. settled, you took to looking at the cuffs and watched as Donnie materialized between your legs. 

“Verbalize.”

“Oh! Yeah…” You wiggled slightly and felt the machine adjust its hold as you did so. “It’s strangely comfortable? Also did it… grow? What’s that part on my back?”

“Stabilizing extensions.” He ducked under your knee to check. “I suppose growth is a way to put it. It can retract in a similar manner. It’s an adaptive technology, obviously of my own design.”

“How can titanium, or silicone for that matter, do that…?”

He gave you a look that wondered if you really wanted him to get into the specifics.

You smiled as he returned to your front. Surprise abating and settling into your new aerial seat, you started to feel very much exposed with your legs splayed. “So…”

His eyes snapped to yours and you realized any reaction that wasn’t overtly positive would be under great scrutiny.

“I’m good! I’m just… wondering what happens now? Are you going to… touch me… or…?” You wiggled your hips some and the machine bounced the weight.

He made an affirmative noise and settled the smallest bit. “No.”

“No…?” You tilted your head and felt how the neck piece accommodated you.

“Non-penetrative, hands free.”

You blinked with realization. “You’ve said that before.”

“I’ve told you how many times I was already working on this?”

“You’re vaguely doing a hundred things and I never know how many of them are just work!”

He relented on that by tilting his head and looking upward.

You gave a dramatic huff.

“There’s another piece that will form… a sort of attachment to you, but not exactly in that manner.”

You came away from your theatrics with a curious glance.

“When you’re ready we can move to the next step.” His eyes then flicked down to your sex and you felt a reflexively coil at the attention. You unconsciously tried to close your legs, but the machine didn’t allow it. From the way Donnie was looking at you, you pinged it as his first interference.

“I’m ready.”

His eye lingered a moment longer before chasing up to your face in a move that you saw was him registering what you had said.

“Can I see it first? I can’t really see…” You tilted your head down as much as you could, but the collar caught your chin and the stiff back brace locked at your waist kept you from bending.

“Of course.” With another hand movement you heard a new arm extending from the panel. It appeared from between your legs and extended up. It had a the shape of two stacked ovals with the larger of which on the bottom. From the glimpse you could see of the outer edge, it seemed like only black silicone from the outside. On the inner part was a myriad of bumpy textures growing up like a little garden around the focal point: a tentacle like protrusion that curled to a soft lazy point. It had a flat density to it and seemingly glowed with a faint purple light as did the rest of its estate. 

“What a sex toy…” Your eyes widened and an odd smile played on your parted lips.

“There are nearly a hundred minute points of articulation. It is self lubricating and will be actively gauging stimulation. It also has vibration settings amongst other things.”

You shot your gaze to Donnie who took your shock with a cocksure grin.

“This…”

How could you even say it?

“I can have this… whenever I want? Like I can’t see this going bad at all. What is this, seriously!?”

He gave a slight shrug that said all of that was obvious.

“You’re…”

What adjective could you possible settle on to describe him at this time?

At the very least, you just needed to keep a love proclamation off your lips.

As long as your kept your tongue in that much check, you’d be safe.

“How the hell could I ever go back to regular sex after this?”

You internally cringed.

Even restrained your mouth still found a way to get your foot in there.

Donnie seemed spurned and stepped up close. The stimulating appendage disappeared somewhere beneath you to accommodate him and he kept just far back enough that he was ghosting without a single touch. “While it is in intriguing query and well within my abilities to build an automaton that could out fuck any organic being, do you honestly believe I would allow you to be anything other than a slave to my cock?”

Curses fell off your lips and your gaze shot away. It felt like your blush escaped your cheeks and flooded your body and you writhed as again the restraints locked up.

When your eye finally returned to him, he was oozing a domineering aura. “If all goes well, I fully intended to fuck you in this.”

You bit down on your lip hard to keep from asking for him to do that now.

Instead his head did a little bob before his eyes cast down. He gave a curious head tilt and then flicked his eyes back to you. “Now you’re ready.”

Stupid scenting.

“Donnie, holy shit…” Oxygen already seemed to be depleting.

“Problem?”

“No, just-”

Saying you needed him would inflate that damn ego of his.

You ended up only giving a needy whine and shifting your legs out now that the machine was no longer withholding you from doing so.

It was enough for him and his finger curled.

Between your legs you felt the tip of the prominent protrusion brush your sex. A shudder shot through you as it was not only slick, but also warm.

“H-heating element!”

He nodded and was hyperfixed as the attachment glided against you again. You could sense it was gathering data as it gently probed you. It both had a skin plus otherworldly quality that you couldn’t place, but you were sure that the individual parts had yet to move. Instead the stationary appliance stroked you, pushing between your folds bit by bit. You mewled and tried to grind down as the little brushes weren’t enough. The restraints resisted you and you tossed your head back.

“Quit interfering!”

“You’ll interfere with the calibrations.”

“Half…” You wheezed as it did its first ghost over your clit. “No, the other… two times weren’t!” Your voice pitched as the whole attachment suddenly pressed to you. The protrusion now seemed nonexistent and instead the many bumps pressed flush against you in a new type of mapping.

You heard only a chuckle from him as all your attention shot inward. The warm slick pebbled surface rocked against you and you forgot how to breathe through your nose. A shift occurred and you couldn’t tell what, but a sort of suction from the outer edge of the mechanism seemed to stick on the sensitive skin of your inner thigh. You heard the buzz first before you felt it and the appendage came to life. Instead of moving against you, the individual parts activated and rolled against the whole of your cunt in what you could only picture as an anemone.

You cried out as the texture switched with the focus curling a tiny tendril up around your clit. The coaxing was unrelenting and your hips stuttered with rapid involuntary bucks. Sounds devolving into guttural moans, you felt a light sweat break out on your skin. Heated inside out, B.E.D.F.A.S.T. tipped you forward so your weight was dropping right into the stimulation. Orgasm building, the vibrations sped to mirror the bumbling head of a magic wand rumbling over your clit. Unable to differentiate between your slick and the machine’s you felt streaks of it drips away before it was wicked from you. You barely registered it as you crested and came with a shout of Donnie’s name.

Hazy, you felt the machine roll through your spasms and slowly taper off until it stilled. From where you had tightened up, you went slack and the machine cradled you with a gentle bend that let your head relax while looking up at the ceiling. Suddenly sleepy, you gave a happy hum that seemed to vibrate in your chest. Donnie appeared beside you with a forefront of a watchful eye and a hungry one barely askewed underneath

“Hiii…” You slurred.

“Checking in.”

“Amazing.” You giggled slightly.

He nodded.

“So… it’ll just… start back up or…?”  You rolled your head to the side and the collar shifted to hold it up for you.

“That depends. It’s currently learning and will be testing various methods.”

“Oh.”

“I’m pleased with the first read-outs.”

“I’m pleased.” You meant to say more, but that’s all that came out.

How long had it been since you last came?

In the scheme of things it was no time at all, but since you started having sex with Donnie it felt like a lifetime since you’d last done anything.

“Good. Continue to enjoy yourself.”

You nodded and felt something at your cheek. You could only kind of see it was some sort of straw. You opened your mouth to ask Donnie about it when it curled just within your lip like a dentist with a suction tool. Closing your mouth around the memory, a cool water came from it and you drank easily. When you opened, it retracted somewhere behind your head. Smiling at how incredible that was, you went to look for Donnie and found him across the room at his computer. “Data?”

He pulled his eyes away immediately. “Yes, do you need me?”

“You’re right there.” You flexed your toes genially. “You’re great.”

“You’ve only cum once and you’re already this malleable?” He gave a noise of judgment and you went to complain when you felt the machine pet between your legs.  

You only wondered if it was him for a second as it shifted to life, already pinging some of your most sensitive spots. This time it rocked against you in a rolling tide motion that your hips played in time with. The breathy build up persuaded you out of your refractory period. Your jaw went slack as the toy rippled beneath you, finally probing your entrance. The push and pull spread you and you wanted so badly to sink down on it. Against its usual resilience, B.E.D.F.A.S.T.’s arms began to stretch and you felt yourself being strung out. You hiccupped on a groan that was assuaged by a suction capping off your clit. Pulled nearly straight as if tortured on a rack, your second orgasm came with you unable to writhe against the undulating mass between your legs.

Delirious, this time the machine only slowed instead of stopping. Gasping as your limbs were returned to you, you felt a growth that you immediately identified as the protrusion. You wondered where the hell it could have been stored as it flicked outward in a careful caress. A vowel warbled off your lips as the toy punctuated you slowly and methodically. Your muscles clenched desperately on nothing and you vaguely wondered if that was the fringes of your last orgasm. The protrusion slowed, making testing swipes that very much had you thinking about a tongue.

Blinking through clarity as it oddly slowed more and more, you looked across the room. Donnie was watching at his computer with a flash of his teeth showing from where his thumb was being bit there. The protrusion swiped through you and you swallowed a grunt in an attempt at language. In a dart, Donnie was next to you with his gaze rapidly scanning you. The machine came to a full stop and you panted. “No problem… I just…” You shook your head to clear your thoughts. “Question.”

He seemed less curious and more concerned.

“Ish not bad.” Your tongue refused to cooperate.

“Exactly.”

“Huh?”

“You shouldn’t have enough cognizance for one.”

The sentence hit you and you laughed. Even though it was paused, the appendage was still pressed to your sex and the sensation tickled you into tapering off with a little moan. “W-while not wrong, it’s cause of this that I have one…”

“Go ahead.”

You wondered why he’d not completed his scientific ensemble with a pad and paper. You decided it was probably too antiquated a practice. “I’m conflicted.”

“You said it wasn’t bad.” His brow came down along with his lips.

“It’s not! Stop!” You tried to kick him and were surprised when the machine let you get close. “Oh.”

He reached out and just barely touched your knee.

It felt like the popping of a bang snap and little mewl chased it.

“Your question.” He reminded you and pulled away.

“Why haven’t you eaten me out before? Why is this thing going to do it first?”

“That’s two questions.”

“A continuation, same point.”

He looked down and there were no signs of difficulty on his face. You wondered what he could be thinking of when he looked back at you with a narrow of his gaze. “Do you recall our last conversation about oral?”

You nodded. “That I didn’t win by a dumb margin.”

He rose an irritated brow.

“I’m allowed to be petty about some things.”

“Your estimation as to why you hadn’t was not only accurate, but a similar situation to mine.”

You wanted to gloat, but as you inhaled you unintentionally arched and felt that little friction between your legs.

“There are far more things I’m plotting to regain control of than you realize. This-” He reached out and tapped a mechanical arm. “-is a step in that direction.”

You rolled your eyes before focusing back on him. “I thought it might be a sensory thing.”

He evaluated you and shifted his head from one side to the other.

“Is it?”

He gave you one last veiled look before turning. “It’s my tongue, by the way.”

You stared after him as he made it back to the computer. With a raise of his hand, he brought up a few windows and watched them carefully. You pursed your lips and felt the smallest slither. Squirming, B.E.D.F.A.S.T. started back up and the protrusion did a flat swipe from your entrance to your clit before it clicked. “W-wait!”

He didn’t look away and seemed to know you hadn’t meant that as a call to stop.

“T-that’s y-your-!?” Your sentence was cut off as the swell slid back and pushed against your core. “Tongue!”

“An exact replica.” His voice came to you despite his distance.

It sped up and you bucked against it. The cuffs around your ankles seemed to tighten as your legs were spread apart until your hips protested. You whined, forcing your tongue in place as your chest tightened. “Not… Fair!”

“How so?” With an arm craned to put his weight on his desk, he let his body turn idly.

“I-“ You choked as it flicked an upward assault on your clit. You lost sight of him as your eyes rolled back and through your sensitivity you were sure you found a texture there that you had identified with your own tongue. Donnie let you writhe for several moments longer before in a downward lap, the protrusion disappeared. You panted, regaining yourself before looking at him through you lashes and imagining how wrecked you must appear. “I-would…no… wanted… you first.”

Even from across the room you saw him inhale before he rose a hand. B.E.D.F.A.S.T. awoke and ramped up its attention two fold. You fell back into its embrace and cried through two more orgasms before it finally eased off. By the time you came too from that bout, you hadn’t even realized you were drinking from the offered straw and the memory of protests was a distant one. Donnie didn’t approach again, instead staying at the safety of his computer, and called check-ins by halting the machines functions. He usually did so at a moment of agony which had you only screaming out the equivalents of ‘don’t stop’ or ‘keep going.’

Time lost all meaning and was only subconsciously registered by the sun pouring through the curtains in a crawl across the floor. The many settings clicked through both keeping a fresh variety while also blending into a continuous stream of never ending pleasure. You were twisted around and might have even been upside down at one point, but there were no absolutes. The only thing you were sure of was heat and how sopping wet you were. While the machine indeed sucked up anything from dripping off your body, it also kept lubrication at a near all time high.

It could have also been of your production, but you never had control over that.

Losing track of crests and troughs, it felt like your whole body was shaking when you caught that Donnie had moved to encroach on the partition. You wanted to call him over, but drool dripped when you opened your mouth and something came up to wipe it away as it had with your tears. Your thoughts were stunted to prehistoric single word grunts that only sparked to attention in a single cascading flame before falling into the endless ocean of whatever goop your body was now constructed of.

Feeling very much like being inside of a taffy puller, you had no exact connection point to your limbs even though you saw glimpses of black silicone. Everything was one continuous sensation apart from your heart that seemed to be racing out of your chest at all times.

Fuck the gym.

This was cardio.

Falling from what must have been another orgasm, this time when you went slack you felt a bite. It seemed to stem from the point around your heel where the skin barely stretched out over the bone. Chaffing made sense and  you had to communicate it, but weren’t sure how. Your fingers flexed, but you had nothing to grab on to. You were just about to try to work on parting your lips when you saw a blur of green and black. A single tear rolled down your cheek at the sight of Donnie.

“Move where it hurts. I’m watching.”

You did your best to wag your foot, but at most your toes flexed. It was enough for him as he dropped down and carefully took your arch in hand. You saw little flecks flicker on the edges of your vision.

“Do you want out?”

You shook your head.

He lifted and, between the new floaters in your gaze, you watched as the cuff around your ankle crawled backwards until a new one formed just under your knee to hold the appendage up. With several careful turns, Donnie did an examination that caused several confused coilings inside of you. “Okay.”

He was gone and his objective seemed clean but something else was happening. Your vision had cleared and you tested focusing on further distance points. They all seemed to check out as Donnie returned to his kneel. You watched him and, for the first time in what felt like hours, your heart finally evened out. He swiped something that felt tacky to your heel and it sent odd tingling sensations up your leg. Wondering if it was the knee brace, Donnie shifted as he wrapped your ankle lightly in what you soon recognized as a bandage.

“That should prevent a blister. I’m going to cover both just in case.”

You gave another nod and, as he moved to your other leg, the mechanical arm returned to its original ankle cuff. You tested the wraps and found they were comfortable underneath the silicone. Little particles rushed in an attempt to distract you from where Donnie was working. As soon as he finished, he leaned back to watch as the machine again regained its primary form. The sputtering to your gaze stopped and you were left with nothing but a creased brow.

You watched as Donnie nodded to himself before looking to your face. He found that wrinkling instantly and worry filled his own. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing?” You didn’t realize you’d gotten the word out until it hit your ears.

“Not good enough.” He stood and, in time, the appendage between your legs left you with a sticky pop. “Try again.”

Feeling the cold air rush your sex caused you to tense up.

Donnie’s features softened through your wince and he reached out to your thigh. You were sure his intention was probably to soothe you, but as soon as his fingers made contact, you saw stars. You must have screamed because when you found him again he had his hand clenched near his chest as if he pulled away, burned.

“I’m getting you out.”

“No!”

He ignored you and moved around to the panel.

“It’s your touch!”

Oh, was that it?

Donnie slowed and turned towards you. “What?”

“It’s…” A full sentence wasn’t going to come. You needed something to ground yourself. “Cool rag?”

With minor hesitation, Donnie let B.E.D.F.A.S.T. be and went to the kitchen. It seemed like only seconds before he returned and blotted your temples. There was a small titillation from the exchange, but nothing compared to whatever had happened to your thigh. As the rag curved down your cheek, you felt it sweep up your words. You had to imagine them being deposited into your mouth for them to materialize. “It started… with my feet. Little spots in my vision.”

He watched and brought the cloth to your other cheek.

“I thought it was just… all of this… but it was only when you touched me…”

With another gentle dab, he pulled away.

“But my leg… woah! A good woah.”

Thought bunched his brows and he simply let go of the rag. A mechanical arm you hadn’t seen shot out to catch it and the exchange was so fast you almost weren’t sure you saw it at all. Donnie did a studying sweep before he reached out hesitantly towards your shoulder. You had a budding protest on your lips, but he made contact first and, again, the touch shot through you like lightning.

When you saw Donnie again it was after your eyes had rolled back into place and you caught his brows sky high on his forehead. “Wha-?”

With one hand he made a motion and you felt the appendage between your legs return.

You blew out a shaky breath.

With the other, he curled it carefully to cup your breast.

This time you caught the scream and he didn’t pull away. The buzz rippled through your skin with an established current and it felt like all the wires sourced to your pussy. His thumb flipped the switch that was your nipple and the amps increased. Your heart seemed to skip several beats and only another toying of that sensitive bud reanimated it. Trembling, he let go with a linger of his fingers.

A low moan erupted from you that you twisted to your will. “No…”

A wide eyed stare studied you with a darting pupil.

You sort of registered that while the appendage had replaced itself, it wasn’t actually active. All of those sensations had come from his hand alone. “More… please…!”

His hands wrapped around your waist just under the cuff there and your body thrashed in response. You heard him mumble something that started with ‘over,’ but the rest of the sentence was lost as he stroked downward to your hips. However loud your voice was seemed to reverberate in your ears. His caress felt like a brand and, as he trended lower, a mantra of ‘yes’s spilled from your lips. You heard an audible slap as he smacked the appendage between your legs away and slipped his hand in there.

Whatever stirrings had been coursing through you up until that point did not match the frothing that occurred when his digit split your folds. Your throat burned on the coals that were poured over your body. You ground down helplessly as his ministrations were exact. His thumb rounded your clit as his fingers trended towards your entrance. The beckoning nature of the touch was rhythmic and your bounce to get just a little more of him caused the mechanical arms to give a metallic creak. It spurned you on further and, in one such rock, his digit just barely breached. You wailed as it finally felt like a little of the energy drowning you had found a release point. B.E.D.F.A.S.T. bobbed you back up for a moment and when you came down there was nothing there. You forced your eyes open and couldn’t see Donnie in front of you. You wanted to sob.

It must have been your cries. 

They reminded him of that terrible, stupid night.

A manifesto conjured of all the ways he satisfied you, but you had no way to translating it.

Heart sinking, you screwed your eyes shut to keep from crying when you felt a hot lash between your legs.

Snapping your eyes opened you strained to look down and just barely caught a bright pop of purple there.

“Oh, fuck.”

He grabbed your ass and whatever stars you had seen prior burst. Gravity of the supernova collapsed in on itself as his tongue tasted you. The energy burst outward had you screeching again, but this time you were staunchly held in place. The protrusion seemed like a paltry generic compared to the real thing. You might have wondered if that was intentional if you could think of anything beyond Donnie eating you out. There was a recklessness there that couldn’t be replicated no matter how many points of articulation he added. You wanted to crush his head between your thighs for even suggesting something so ridiculous in the first place.

He probed your entrance and all thoughts of violence evaporated under the sheer weight of desire. You needed something, any part of him, inside you. Grinding as much as he’d allow, he finally pumped his tongue inward. Your voice shattered and the contrasting silence was deafening as your muscles desperately reeled him in. Circling the drain, you were done for when one of his hands left the plump of your cheek to skirt your clit. With a single stroke and you came, hard, clear, and concise.

You didn’t know you still had it in you.

Coming down seemed like an impossibility as Donnie’s tongue simply wouldn’t stop. He was determined to lap up every iota of slick from you and a high pitched sound came from you as your body gave up. The fringes of consciousness danced around your vision, but you refused their call. It meant an odd clarity like the eye of a hurricane as Donnie slowed his licking to languid strokes. His tongue nearly encompassed all of you and conjured an odd image of how a mother cat would clean a kitten, tiny, in comparison. Not wanting to linger on that, you forced your eyes open and blearily took in the faded light of the apartment.

It wasn’t necessarily dark, but dim as with each lap you felt your body rock against Donnie’s face. After what seemed like an eternity in limbo, he finally came loose. He rose up and you watched as his tongue lolled down to gather up as much of the splatter that soaked his chin. He got all he could in that manner before reaching up with a thumb to collect the rest. He licked the digit clean before finally, finally looking  at you.

You opened your mouth to voice a question, but no sound came out.

Donnie’s impeccable hearing must have caught something because he smirked. “Your earlier ascertain was incorrect.”

It didn’t matter which one, you gave a nod regardless.

“It is not an aversion.” He licked his lips once again. “Instead, I don’t care to stop once I’ve started.”

Your head moved affirmatively again.

His fingers flexed and you realized one hand was still cupping your ass.

He was still holding the bowl.

“There is the very real possibility you would actually be devoured in this way.” His eyes flicked down and you clenched despite how badly it ached.

The muscle flex must have been visible because his pupils widened. You saw the cat again and he shot forward. His lips latched to you and you no longer had it within you to voice your surprise let alone pleasure. The sensation swallowed you whole and, though you were sure you were still awake, you felt afloat on a sea of consciousness. The water was the perfect temperature and felt like silk running over your body. Above you, the sun didn’t burn and the sky was a kaleidoscope of colors. You watched them, mesmerized, as your body rocked to and fro amongst the waves. You wondered if you had or could ever be this serene again in your life.

Things happened very fast and slow after that. At some point whatever was lighting up the sky suffered its own cosmic demise and darkness swallowed up the colored expanse. You felt no fear and instead watched as a coast guard’s boat drifted it’s search light until it found you. It shined in your eyes and you winced. A man’s arm dipped into the water and got a good hold of you. You were then leaning into the stiffness of Donnie’s plastron as the clipped sound of the machine retracted in on itself reached your ears. You mumbled something to him that only sounded like a babble to you.

With a swift exchange, you were easily cradled into one arm and there was a rush of movement as you sleepily nuzzled his hard chest. You hummed affections until you felt the softness of sheets caress your back. You were laid flat and moaned in delight at the feeling before immediately a sore pain shot through every single one of your joints. You didn’t have the strength to recoil and instead stayed very still while tensing your muscles. A hand brushed your cheek and you chased it as your only comfort.

“You see why I projected at least a two day minimum recovery time of bed rest.”

Why did that sound familiar?

“Did I make it?”

That sounded familiar too.

Donnie’s form seemed to turn away. “Current time is 8:37pm.”

You nodded as if that meant anything and the plush nature of the mattress coaxed your lids down. You might have dozed lightly because when you awoke it wasn’t exactly dark, but there wasn’t a lot of light. Panic didn’t flood you and, instead, you traced the faded outline of the ceiling in a daze before you finally tested turning your head. To your right you saw a standing closet and a door that you knew lead to a bathroom. Light wasn’t pouring out of there either, but it wasn’t the dark chasm it should have been. Unable to parse that out, you turned the other way to find Donnie watching you while laying on his stomach.

You smiled at him. “I went on the most amazing trip.”

“A trip, hm?”

You nodded and the sheets felt so good against your cheek. “An island paradise like Tahiti or something.”

“That’s where you were.”

“I’ll take you next time.”

“Air travel is difficult for me.”

“It’ll be fine.”

“How is that?”

“We’ll just put a big hat on you, your sun hat, and they won’t know a thing.”

“Of course, a disguise was the answer that eluded me whole time.” From where his arms were folded under his head, he adjusted so his chin was above his bicep.

He sure was indulging you.

Were you sure this was your Donnie?

With a jellied limb, you flopped the arm closest to him back at the elbow. It landed your hand near him. He looked down at the appendage before his own cage rose up. His fingers crawled out and he just barely caught the tips of yours.

He felt very real.

“I’m sore.”

“Everything will be taken care of. You can rest.”

You looked beyond him to the darkened curtains.

“You should eat.” His arms slid closer to his body as he prepared to get up.

You tugged the pads of his fingers with your eyes locked to the drapery.

Donnie got the message and turned to see what you were looking at.

He had blackouts so it wasn’t that strange, but earlier little pockets of light had spilled in a purposeful way. It could have been fixed, but the rest of the apartment had a dimmed quality as well. Pulling away from him to gets some weight on a weakened elbow, you groaned loudly as you hefted yourself onto your side.

“It’s night.” His gaze returned and there was a taunt quality to him. “You’ve been asleep for several hours. Shall I turn some lights on?”

“It’s not totally dark.”

“There’s a few sources.” Donnie gave your hand a little press before he sat up and made a show of pointing. “My computer’s display is up, there is a nightlight over on the wall here, and another in the bathroom.”

“Earlier the sun was…?”

He watched you for a moment before the question registered. “There’s 3 sets of curtains. The base doesn’t allow light penetration, then a privacy set, and finally a sheer hanging.”

There was a gauzy quality that you could sort of make out. “Seems like a lot.”

Donnie shrugged. “It suits my needs.”

You turned inward and flicked your index finger to make little creases on the cotton.

“No food right now and… I don’t… need the light.”

You watched Donnie perk slightly before he carefully moved to lay down on his own side, mirroring you.

“I’m still aware, but it’s more like… I’ve had this fear for long enough that I’m on edge just waiting for it to happen? It’s not though.”

There was a slow nod across from you.

“I’m sorry, that’s probably not what you hoped to hear…”

“Incorrect. I anticipated that there is no easy solution. The intent was to start forming positive connotations in hopes of reducing future anxiety.”

You gave a hopeless smile. “I know that, it was my idea in the first place.”

Silence filed in.

“I’m not exactly scared. I’m sort of stuck… waiting.”

“If anything comes, I will take care of it.”

“You’re being so gushy, I don’t know what to do with you.”

His snout crinkled in offense, but there was a pantomime nature to it.

“How are you?”

“I’d prefer to have your review before answering.”

“Oh!” Your loose limbs made it easy to swung your free arm up to your forehead to feign fainting. “It was ever so droll so I do fear that you are not in favorable spirits!”

He scolded you with his eyes.

Your hand partially blocked one of your eyes as you dropped the act. “I came so many times that I lost track and towards the end there it was so good I essentially left my body.”

His features relaxed.

“How you feel shouldn’t depend on me.”

His gaze flicked away where his mind seemed to catch something before returning. “The sentiment of which is correct, but in practice that would not be wholly true of either of us.”

You blinked wide.

“My happiness doesn’t depend on you.” He reached out and tapped his finger beside where your hand lay on the bed. “It is supplemented by which.”

Your cheeks felt warm and you extended a finger to him. He quickly met it in a poke. “You haven’t answered.”

“Your review lacked specifics.”

“Donnie if you have a freaking checklist just pull it out and let’s go over it.”

He tensed and you could tell he absolutely had one. He then hesitated with a faint tightness in his brow before it smoothed out. “Tomorrow.”

“So I won’t know how you’ll feel until then? What if you need something?”

His lips didn’t fully part but there was clearly something there.

You weren’t sure if this was a leave it or push scenario. Dropping your gaze to where your digits were still touching, you poked a little harder. “How did this help you?”

Out of the corner of your eye, you could see him scan you.

“Before I-” The memory of begging him to touch you surfaced and that reaction would certainly be something you’d be revisiting many times in the future. “-interrupted. B.E.D.F.A.S.T. was supposed to be hands free. In your preamble, I let you slide when you said you wanted it, but you haven’t explained how any of this helped with your fear of touching me.”

The bed shifted as he rooted down. An arm curled under his neck and you got a pleasant shot of how even his arm pit had toning. Once comfortable, he gave a sigh and his cheek squished from where it now perched on his arm. “I see my tech as an extension of myself.”

Realization that he was opening up flooded you with a swirling warmth. You could sense how pivotal this moment was and tried to temper your excitement to fully submerge yourself in it.

“My line otherwise was played up to an extent.” His gaze dropped and you could tell he was cycling through the memory. “While I toyed with the idea of adding actual coordinating receptors, it still felt as though I was the one holding you up and treating you, if I may label it, to ecstasy.” 

“That would be pretty accurate...” You nodded and felt as though the heat in your cheeks boiled over to your shoulders.

“You see it differently.”

You toyed with his finger and pushed it to curl. “I hear you and can understand what you mean, but it’s not the same. The model of your tongue, exact or whatever, didn’t…” You moved to look him right in the eye. “It didn’t compare at all. It felt incredible, don’t get me wrong. Full marks, but I’m always going to pick you at the end of the day.”

He quieted and moved his curled digit to hook yours like a lure.

“But it doesn’t matter if I think differently. What matters is how you feel. Not to get ahead of myself, but this-” You gave a little pull to his finger. “-seems like a good sign?”

The corner of his mouth turned up slightly and he moved to look at you. You brightened at the attention and he released your hand to reach out. Your smile dropped into a curious purse as his fingertips cascaded over your cheek. You could feel that there was no hesitation behind the move and when his palm pressed flat to the plump, you also identified the lack of urgency. It was a tender touch without pretext. You sank down into the bed under the weight of adoration.

“Good sign.” You mumbled and resisted the urge to bury your face into the sheets.

He gave a nod of agreement.

Something was on your lips and you opened them to translate it. Whatever it was disappeared as your stomach roared to life and an unconscious embarrassment came with it.

“Still want to put off eating?”

“Apparently not.” You huffed which devolved into a chuckle.

He moved to stand and circled the bed. Expecting him to leave, you watched as he took care in propping you up so you could better see him as he went to the kitchen. Twisting your sheet to release the bubbling emotions from his overt care, you watched as he set to cooking something. You eventually settled in and under a self examination you found you felt clean despite how much you had sweat. In a small decision to yourself and, regardless of how much you loved how considerate he was, you vowed to keep from having to do so much aftercare. He hadn’t bothered to dress you, but you were too comfortable to care about that. The two of you ended up eating several simple, but delicious courses that you barely made it through as being full immediately reminded your body of how exhausted you still were. You slept through until nearly the next afternoon where the curtains were adjusted to let a tranquil amount of light in. Donnie was up and reading, but came to you quickly as you roused.

You found you could move though you were incredibly sore. You took a proper shower and lounged in comfortable clothes for the rest of the day together. You laughed at the initial length of Donnie’s checklist review, but found the banter it cooked up to be pretty interesting as he was open to answering technical question. He was, however, extremely dodgy about both where his bed had disappeared to and how it had magically manifested afterward. You’d made a game of slipping the question in throughout the day and comfortable coexistence carried you to delivery dinner. You littered his coffee table with takeout boxes and curled up when he was the one to suggest watching a movie. Playing down your excitement, you chose one of your favorites without telling him. He gave it proper attention and afterward you were pleased to find him thoughtful and interested in the characters. He had some logistic questions that you were able to answer and you blessed bonus features.

Eventually after relaxing together on the couch to scroll your respective phones, you stood and gave a big stretch. Donnie lowered his device and you pushed the coffee table out of the way so you could comfortably stand in front of him. He pocketed his device and you held your hands out to him. He took them and you leaned back with all your weight to lift him up. It was obvious he simply stood, but he let you have your moment before he released one of your appendages. It caused you to swing back away from him before he turned the move into a twirl. He caught your waist after two rotations and you stared up at him with a fizzing in your chest at his open playfulness. He kept your tether and followed through with the question you hadn’t voiced of going to bed.  

The domestic nature drowned your brain in dopamine and you made the conscious decision to lose your pants despite not expecting anything to happen. Donnie raised a questioning brow that you brushed off saying it’d be easier to sleep with them and that your oversized shirt covered what need be. He had chuckled and took to his side of the bed where you soon joined him. For awhile you faced each other in as close a version to dark as he allowed. Again you felt the wariness crop up, but it amounted to only a precipice that you eventually forgot as the two of you talked genially about this and that. Sleep fought for supremacy as your body was still in repair mode. Not wanting to miss a moment you resisted until Donnie put his foot down. You drifted off quickly after that into the lull of a comfortable void.

Until there was a nip.

It was a flash of teeth that seemed without origin or malice.

It sent a thrill through you as it happened again.

Care was taken as large hands encapsulated your knees and urged you to part them. You opened up like a flower and watched the wet slick of a tongue dart out over hungry lips. Aching with anticipation, there was an inching forward where tired eyes that never seemed to lose their bags watched you in a ravenous darkness. A snout pressed right to your center and the heat exuded as he breathed you in set your skin aflame. That tongue reappeared with a testing lap. He sent compliments to the chef with a flick of his gaze before he dove in. To contrast his famished nature, he savored you like a fine wine. Whatever tasting notes he picked up, he clearly liked as he tried to take up as much of you with his mouth alone. It had you clawing to keep from grabbing him and shoving him impossible deeper between your legs. 

Ramping up in the perfect rising action, you felt the climax approaching. His meal hit a titular course and before he took his final bite he pulled away. Your eyes flew to him in desperation as you were left dangling when you very much needed to fall. His gaze defined wicked as his lips glistened with your essence.

“Little rabbit, do you think I’d let my prey away that easily? I’m just enjoying the chase.”

He dipped down to only press a kiss to your heat before his tongue mercifully wrapped around your clit. You screamed and with a start your eyes opened.

It was dark.

Not fear, but confusion sent your gaze spinning as you could still feel the heat between your legs.

Your position was wrong. Why were you on your side? 

It took several seconds to register you were in Donnie’s bed and facing away from him.

It took more for you to reach down and find the flood between your legs.

After that it was easy to put together: you’d had a sex dream.

With no climax.

Bitterly, you moved to roll onto your back and threw the hand with soaked fingers above the sheets to keep from spreading the slick. The faintest outline of the ceiling stared back and you gave a breathy pout. A tongue ghosted between your legs in an unrelenting reel and you turned to see the cause of your desire.

Beside you, Donnie was on his side facing your direction with his jaw was slack. His lips covered his teeth and a tiny bit of drool was in the corner of his mouth along with the faintest peak of that tongue. Any heat you would have had at the sight of it was completely overwhelmed by something else.

He was asleep.

Your eyes widened and you could feel your pupil expand to take up as much data as you could in the dark.

Just as you hypothesized, he looked completely different than you had ever seen him. His shoulders slumped awkwardly. His shell was barely visible over said joint where he was half twisted forward while his hips tipped the other way. You could only see the shape through the sheet, but his legs were clearly kicked in two different directions.

You took a sharp inhale and your hands flew to your mouth in an attempt to smother it. There was still a tackiness there that you ignored and watched anxiously as Donnie’s brow wrinkled ever so slightly. His lips came together and he did a dry swallow before his face relaxed once again.

You could hear a chorus of trumpets.

You hadn’t woken him.

Giddy, you blew out through your fingers the breath you had been holding it. Your cunt protested your joy with a throb and you rolled your eyes. You weren’t getting back to sleep with that sensation between your legs, so you took great care in rolling back over. You had just made it into your original position and were plotting how best to get to the bathroom when you heard a little stutter in Donnie’s breathing. It stopped yours and you tensed as a sniff turned into tiny little snuffles. There was then a deep guttural rumble before you heard the glossed noise of his lips parting.

“Wha…?”He uncharacteristically slurred and his voice was so low you wouldn’t have heard it were you not holding your breath. He tested the air again and this time his inhales were metered. “Y/N.”

He was still quiet enough that you could play it off, but excitement took hold. You diluted it as much as you could to give the smallest response. “Yeah?”

“Your…” He slid on the sheets as he moved in to take another sniff.

You wondered if he even realized he hadn’t finished his sentence. “Yeah…”

The bed dipped and he was so very close to your back. Your heart raced as he lifted the sheet around your hips and was no doubt assaulted by the scent of your arousal.

“I… uh…” Your muscles reflexively clenched. “Dreamed… of you.”

He grunted and you weren’t sure he understood as he dug his nose just under your ear. Goosebumps exploded on your skin as his plastron pressed flush against you and one of his arms came around your waist. There was a clumsiness to his movements that said he was still chock full of sleep. He unabashedly scented down your hairline before burying his snout into the base of your neck.

You leaned into him and his tongue darted out in a swipe over the skin there. You squirmed as his hand drifted down to fist the end of your shirt and get it out of the way. It did nothing but enhance the flood as he skirted the edge of your underwear before stumbling fingers got under the band. Once he succeeded he went right to the source and barely touched you before he hissed.

“Really?” The heft to get the words out pressed his fingers deep into your folds. “After all that you still managed-?”

A throaty moan escaped you as he curled his digits.

He tensed and nosed your shirt over so he could nip the crook of your neck. “Insatiable.”

You could only nod as his fingers cascaded downward. The slick was too much and he slipped right inside you before you assumed he meant to as his movements stuttered.

You gasped and were careful to place your spread fingers over his arm. He pumped his finger deeper and you took it as a good ahead to grab him. His digit began to curl, but it wasn’t enough so you tugged hard on his appendage which forced him right up into your g-spot. Relief tossed your head back and he broke away from the hickey he was working into your throat. “Needy… So needy.”

You hummed agreement and pulled on his arm again. He responded by using it to pull you tighter against him before a second digit joined the first. You moaned desperately as your toes curls.

“This scent…” His thick voice carried a scolding tone as he licked a stripe over whatever skin he could get his mouth on.

“For you.” The sound twisted out as you rocked against his hand.

He slowed, pressing his fingers down to the knuckle.

Your body helplessly tried to drink him in deeper.

“Even in your sleep…?”

“I want you.” You tried to ground down, but his otherwise unused trapped hand somehow wormed its way between your hip and the mattress. He used it to hold you steady. “Always.”

“You want me?” In a slow drag he pulled his fingers all the way out until just the tips barely skirted you.

“So much!” It took the all the final shreds of your focus not to shout. “Can’t you see how much?”

He stiffened and prodded your entrance in a small stroke.

“Feel how much?”

He scissored you open carefully.

“Smell how much?” You let go of his arm to throw yours behind his head and hold him.

His body curled into you impossibly close and his fingers pulled away. A whimper died on your lips as he leaned over you momentarily to grab your knee. He then coaxed you to bend it and spread to give him better access. You instantly complied and this time when he shoved his hand into your underwear he did so with precision that yanked the cotton away as much as your spread would allow it. His fingers sank right back into you with a clarity that said he was very much awake now. “You.”

“I want you.” You poured yourself back against him as he finger fucked you.

“After…” He let out a shaky breath. “Everything?

“I want you!” Your voice peaked as he found a tantalizing rhythm against that bundle of nerves inside.

He sped up and the arm crushed between you and the mattress finally found the other side. It lifted you and he shoved it up under the already pushed up shirt. He palmed the first breast he could get his hands on aggressively and tipped you back until you were nearly on top of him. His ministrations sped up and within it you timed your reminders of how much you desired him. The mantra only stuttered as he ripped your collar with his teeth alone to make room enough for him to bite you. It broke your ability to make words as that dreamy high became a reality. With his mouth still around you, a growl you could only identify as possessive leaked through his teeth and brought you to climax.

With several targeted pumps, he let you ride out clenching his fingers and you vibrated before going slack. The remnants of your orgasm clung to him and he lapped carefully at the bite mark he left.

You now had a matching pair on each shoulder.

You came down with a happy titter and lids growing heavier by the second. “Thank you.”

“Y/N…” There was something there, something pointed, raw, and nervous.

You squirmed as best you could to see him.

You needed to see him.

He seemed to understand and he pulled the arm out from under you which shifted him so he was hovering over you slightly.

You looked right into his eyes. “Not just sex. Always. I meant that.”

Whatever it was, that was the right response. In the comfortable dark his eyes held a particular sheen.

“I still want you.” You told him clearly.

He dipped down to press his lips yours. It wasn’t one of need, but instead gratitude and the faintest hint of iron.

NEXT

[juniperallen]

Auction Inventory Software: Elevating Efficiency in Auction Management

Auction inventory software revolutionizes how auction organizers manage, track, and catalog items. This technology brings efficiency to every stage of the auction process, from listing items to final sales. With real-time tracking and automated reporting features, inventory software simplifies operations for auction houses, online platforms, and private sellers, creating a seamless and well-organized experience for all involved.

Key Features and Advantages of Auction Inventory Software

Auction inventory software offers essential tools that streamline auction management, boost efficiency, and improve accuracy. Here’s a summary of its top features:

Streamlined Cataloging and ListingsEnables easy digital cataloging with photos and descriptions, allowing auctioneers to present organized, engaging listings that attract more bidders.

Real-Time TrackingProvides real-time monitoring of item locations and status, enhancing organization and transparency, and reducing risks of item misplacement.

Automated Valuation and PricingUses historical data and market insights to set competitive, data-driven prices, building bidder confidence and saving time.

Integrated Bidding PlatformConnects item listings to live or timed bidding, creating a unified platform for bidding, which simplifies management and ensures accurate tracking.

Reporting and AnalyticsDelivers insights on bidding patterns, item popularity, and performance, empowering auction organizers to refine strategies for future success.

Auctions That Benefit from Inventory Software

Inventory software’s flexibility makes it suitable for various types of auctions, from traditional to online formats. Here are some types that benefit most:

Estate and Personal Property: Perfect for managing and cataloging a wide range of items.

Fine Art and Collectibles: Supports detailed descriptions and high-quality images, ideal for unique or high-value pieces.

Real Estate Auctions: Simplifies tracking of properties and supports regulatory compliance with accurate record-keeping.

Vehicle Auctions: Tracks different types of vehicles with tools for valuation and condition reports.

Enhancing Efficiency with Auction Inventory Software

Auction inventory software boosts efficiency by centralizing data, minimizing manual entry, and enabling quick adjustments. With real-time updates and easy access to information, teams can work faster and make informed decisions, improving the overall participant experience.

The software securely stores records, facilitating compliance and ensuring that auction teams maintain audit-ready data for future planning. Streamlining access to auction details, it helps keep operations organized, allowing teams to focus on delivering engaging experiences while safeguarding essential auction data.

The Future of Auction Inventory Software

As technology advances, auction software is expected to incorporate even more features. Artificial intelligence could enhance item appraisals, while blockchain technology might improve transparency and security in tracking. Augmented reality could provide a more interactive experience, allowing bidders to view items virtually before making bids. As these advancements become available, auction inventory software will continue to evolve, offering even more value to auction organizers.

Conclusion

Auction inventory software reshapes the auction experience with streamlined cataloging, tracking, and data analysis features. By reducing manual work and enhancing organization, this software supports more efficient auctions and delivers a better experience for bidders. For auction organizers looking to improve efficiency, engage bidders, and achieve optimal results, integrating live auction software with inventory management systems is an invaluable asset. As the auction industry grows and modernizes, inventory software will remain essential, raising standards for service and auction outcomes.

[ro-reflects]

Finally Introducing Myself to The World With a Blog (๑˃̵ᴗ˂̵)

"What's the purpose of this blog?"

I created this blog to hopefully motivate me to start writing again. Whether that be short stories, journaling, or something new to me like headcanons or fanfiction—I want to tap into my creativity again.

"Who are you?"

My online name is Ro; I go by he/him pronouns, I'm demisexual and a trans male. I've figured a lot about myself due to my hunger for knowledge, but there's still more to discover. Part of me still doesn't know who I am. Would you like to stick around and discover with me?

"What are you into? Any fandoms you enjoy?"

Yes! Sit down, because this is long. (sorry in advance)

Shows I enjoy; Gravity Falls, Madoka Magica, Bungou Stray Dogs, Jujutsu Kaisen (need to watch it more), Black Butler, Digital Circus and Murder Drones, Orhan Highschool Host Club (is that how it's spelt?), Blue Exorcist, Helluva Boss, Mandela Catalog, The Boiled One, The Backrooms, The Rolling Giant, Local 58, GREYLOCK, etc.

Games I enjoy; Obey Me! and Obey Me! Nightbringer, Blooming Panic, Roblox, FAITH: The Unholy Trinity, Mushroom Oasis, Twisted Wonderland, Dead Plate, Project Sekai, Honkai: Star Rail, Soundmap, etc.

Music Artists I frequently listen to; Poppy, Ashnikko, Billie Eilish, LuLuYam, Jazmin Bean, Megan Thee Stallion, Kendrick Lamar, Chappell Roan, Elita, MARINA, Bo Burnham, Sofia Isella, Charli xcx, Hatsune Miku, Night Club, Green Day, etc.

Topics I enjoy learning about / discussing; The meaning of life, spirituality, human design, astrology, numerology, tarot, paganism, architecture, analog horror, liminal spaces, the cosmos, psychology, philosophies, etc.

"Who do you NOT want interacting with your blog?"

(Keep in mind that my DNI list contains everything here and more. There will be updates and additions if needed.)

Please DNI if you

Are; ableist, anti-feminist, sexist, or racist

Are; homophobic, or transphobic

Are; on the far-right side of the political spectrum / support trump, pro-life / anti-abortion, and anything else in that circle

Enjoy; loli content, proshipping, and anything else in that circle

Plan to ask me about; drugs, drinking, politics, etc.

Are; a blank account (no blog name or no pfp)

Planning to; spam my inbox (please don't do this. I'll get to your msg when I get to it)

"What's the spiritual side of you? Do you practice anything? Are you interested in doing so?"

At this moment, I don't practice anything. But I'm very interested in pagan practices atm.

In Astrology, I am a Virgo sun, Cancer moon, and Aries rising.

On a more detailed level, here is my chart:

This is my reading from this website!

In human design; I am a Manifesting Generator.

Got my chart at this website!

If you made it this far, THANK YOU! ╰(*´︶`*)╯

It means a lot to me that you took time out of your day to read up about me—some guy behind a screen.

Send me an ask about any questions you have; topics you want to nerd out about to someone, fun facts you've learnt, fanfiction or headcannon requests about fandoms I'm in (I'll try my best to make them atleast readable—I'll probably be very nervous LOL), something you need to vent about, how your day went, anything!

I'd love to meet the kind person who read my introduction（╹◡╹）♡

[megaottiptv4k]

IPTV: How does IPTV work and who is the best provider

**Understanding IPTV: Revolutionizing How We Watch TV In the ever-evolving landscape of entertainment, Internet Protocol Television (IPTV) has emerged as a significant game-changer. Defining traditional broadcast methods, IPTV leverages the versatility of internet technology to deliver a comprehensive TV experience that blends live streaming, on-demand content, and exclusive features.

**What is IPTV?

IPTV stands for Internet Protocol Television. Unlike traditional cable or satellite TV, which transmits content through analog signals, IPTV uses internet protocols to deliver television programming. This method allows for more flexibility, better quality, and an enhanced viewing experience.

**How Does IPTV Work?

IPTV works by sending television programs through a broadband or internet connection. It allows the user to stream continuously, hence eliminating the need for downloading. The overall process can be broken down into three simple steps:

Content Transmission: The broadcaster encodes the content and transmits it over the internet. Fetching: IPTV services fetch the content from the broadcaster to store on servers. Delivery: The viewer requests the content, and the IPTV service delivers it over the internet to the viewer’s device. This three-step system ensures a seamless and efficient content delivery, marking IPTV as superior to traditional broadcast methods.

**Advantages of IPTV:

Vast Content Variety: With IPTV, viewers have access to a myriad of channels from around the world, catering to varied tastes and preferences, from sports and news to entertainment and documentaries. On-Demand Options: One of the most attractive features of IPTV is Video on Demand (VoD). Users can watch their desired programs at their convenience, without adhering to a broadcast schedule. Interactivity: IPTV offers interactive features such as pausing live TV, on-demand streaming, and watching catch-up TV, providing a more dynamic and engaging experience. Superior Quality: Due to digital transmission, the quality of picture and sound in IPTV is typically better than traditional broadcast methods, often supporting HD or even 4K resolution. Device Compatibility: IPTV can be accessed on multiple devices, including smart TVs, smartphones, tablets, and computers, enhancing its accessibility. Popular Applications of IPTV

**Live Television:

Streaming live television channels as they are broadcasted. Time-Shifted Media: Recording and watching television programs after they have been aired. Video On Demand (VoD): Streaming individual movies or TV shows from a catalog. Choosing a Reliable IPTV Service Provider

-When considering IPTV, it’s crucial to select a reliable service provider to ensure a smooth and high-quality viewing experience. Factors to consider include:

_Channel Variety: Ensure the provider offers a wide range of channels that cater to your preferences. _Service Stability: The provider should offer consistent service with minimal downtime. _Customer Support: Opt for providers that have good customer support to address any issues promptly. _Device Compatibility: The IPTV service should be compatible with multiple devices to offer flexibility in viewing.

Megaott: A Leading Choice for IPTV Subscriptions

One of the best sites to purchase IPTV subscriptions from is Megaott. Known for its comprehensive and customer-centric service, Megaott stands out in the competitive IPTV market. Here are some reasons Megaott is highly recommended:

Extensive Channel List: Megaott offers a broad array of channels, covering genres from sports and movies to news and music, ensuring there’s something for everyone. 1/ High-Quality Streaming: Megaott is committed to providing high-definition streams with minimal buffering, guaranteeing an enjoyable viewing experience. 2/ User-Friendly Interface: The Megaott platform is designed with the user in mind, making it easy to navigate and access your favorite content. 3/ Excellent Customer Support: Megaott’s customer service is responsive and efficient, ready to assist with any inquiries or issues. 4/ Affordable Packages: Megaott offers competitive pricing, with various subscription plans tailored to different budgets and viewing needs. In conclusion, IPTV represents a significant advancement in television technology, offering flexibility, variety, and quality that traditional broadcasting can’t match. For those looking to embrace this innovative way of watching TV, Megaott provides a reliable and feature-rich subscription service worth considering.

   By choosing IPTV and a dependable provider like Megaott, viewers can enjoy a richer, more personalized, and more convenient TV experience, setting a new standard in home entertainment

[bigsalescoupon]

Unlock Your Creativity: Domestika's Inspiring Online Courses

Domestika is a platform that offers a variety of online creative courses taught by professionals from different fields such as design, illustration, photography, animation, craft, and more. These courses are designed to help individuals learn new skills, improve their techniques, and unleash their creativity.

Here are some key features of Domestika online courses:

Diverse Course Catalog: Domestika offers a wide range of courses, each focusing on a specific creative skill or discipline. This includes courses on graphic design, watercolor painting, digital illustration, photography techniques, 3D modeling, and many others.

Experienced Instructors: The courses are taught by experienced professionals who are experts in their respective fields. Instructors often share their personal insights, tips, and techniques, helping students learn from their expertise.

Video Lessons: The courses usually consist of pre-recorded video lessons that you can watch at your own pace. These videos are often accompanied by downloadable resources like project files, assignments, and supplementary materials.

Community Interaction: Many courses have a community aspect, where students can interact with each other and the instructor through forums, discussion boards, and project sharing. This creates a collaborative learning environment.

Lifetime Access: Once you purchase a course, you typically have lifetime access to the course materials. This allows you to revisit the content and practice your skills whenever you want.

Projects and Assignments: Courses often include hands-on projects and assignments that help you apply what you've learned. Completing these projects can give you a tangible sense of progress and achievement.

Certificate of Completion: After finishing a course, you may receive a certificate of completion, which can be a nice addition to your portfolio or resume.

Mobile App: Domestika also offers a mobile app, making it convenient for you to access course materials and continue learning on the go.

To get started with a Domestika course, you can visit their website, browse the course catalog, and choose a course that aligns with your interests and goals. Keep in mind that each course may have different requirements and levels, so make sure to read the course descriptions and reviews to find the one that suits you best.