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imagine-knowing-a-name · 1 year ago

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At Your Service

Summary: As a trainee mechanic, you apply for an apprenticeship at Stark Automotives on a whim. What you don't expect is for Tony Stark to reply personally with an offer to train you, and if that wasn't enough, a certain redhead also takes an interest in your sessions.

Word Count: 2303

Pairing: (Mentor/Mentee relationship for both) Natasha Romanoff & Reader; Tony Stark & Reader

Warning: None :)

A/N: Thanks for the response to my last fic, all the comments and reblogs kept me writing even with all my deadlines, and Mechanic!R was the clear winner of the last poll, so here you all go! Enjoy :)

»»————-　★　————-««

You rested centimetres from the cold floor with the sight of oil-covered gears, shafts, and pipes overtaking your vision as you rolled under the automotive.

"Does the axle cover come off?" you said after a short inspection.

"Yeah, those two hex screws, I'll get you the tool. You've worked out the issue?"

"It's meant to be 4-wheel drive and only the front wheels are moving; I'd guess a problem with the connector shaft meeting the rear axle."

"You'd guess or you'd know?"

"I can't know anything 'til the cover's off and I can see inside."

"Good answer," Tony replied. "Hand out."

As instructed, you stretched your arm until your fingers just about reached out from under the car chassis, where a tool handle was placed in your palm.

"One 5/8 hex screwdriver, that's the one you'll need."

"The screws are imperial?"

"'Course, kid, we're in America."

"Yeah, but you sell these cars globally; I just assumed-"

"Dear old dad set up factories all over the globe – allows for some regional differences in the schematics, then each production line just does its own thing. It's easiest for everyone."

You hummed your acceptance of his method, then started to undo the screws, until a light rock to the car paused you. The movement stopped, so you assumed it was just Tony leaning on the car and you moved to continue your work, until the hum of a motorbike -- the sound of which you'd previously ignored -- grew even louder. You jolted when the bike pulled into the garage, causing you to smack your head against the car's underbody and let out a low groan.

"Watch yourself, kid; are you alright under there?" Tony said from above. At your murmur that you were fine, he continued, "roll yourself out, there's someone for you to meet."

"Why's there someone under your car, Tony?" came a woman's voice -- the person to meet, you assumed -- "can't get under the car like the old days, hm?"

When you emerged, the bright light of the outside world temporarily blinded you; you could make out Tony's figure, and as your vision returned, you saw the newcomer's back was turned to you, so only an orange plait could be seen from under her bike helmet.

"Very funny," Tony scoffed, continuing the conversation before he pointed at you. The woman turned and you only just managed to stifle a gasp when you recognised her face. "This is an apprentice, wrote to me a couple months back asking to learn about Stark Automotives, so I've been training them since. Y/N, this is Nat. Nat, Y/N."

From the moment Tony suggested training you here, in the garage of the Avengers Compound, you knew there would be a chance of running into the rest of the team you'd spent your childhood idolising. But truthfully, you were too starstruck that Tony Stark himself had offered to train you to truly believe that moment of meeting the other Avengers would ever come.

Now here you were, facing the Natasha Romanoff, looking effortlessly cool with her white vest, jeans, and leather biker jacket...while you laid on the floor in a Stark branded boiler suit and a definite grease mark where you’d hit your head. Your cheeks burned with embarrassment when you realised that the Black Widow's first perception of you was seeing you smack into an object directly in front of your face. You only hoped the blush didn't show when you finally met her eyes.

"Good to meet you," she said cooly, holding her hand out, but her eyes tracked up and down as if sizing you up.

You took her hand instantly, about to ramble through an introduction before a slight gasp from her shook you back to attention. Your eyes snapped down to where your hands met, and you realised then that you still wore your gloves, coated with oil from working on the vehicle, and now you've smeared it all over her uncovered hand. You instantly broke away -- apologising profusely -- and grabbed sheet after sheet of blue paper roll, offering it to her to help clean her hand.

"I'm so sorry," you repeated again, but she shook her head and smiled at you.

"I've had much worse meetings. I'll happily take a little bit of grease over being shot at."

"Woah-"

"Hey, kid," Tony began. Both your head and Natasha's snap in his direction; you'd honestly forgotten he was still there. "Not to interrupt, but have you ever worked on a motorbike? I made a few modifications to Nat's, and now that she's so kindly brought it to us I can show you how they work."

"Do not lay a finger on my bike, Stark," Natasha growled in a tone that reassured you that if she had actually been angry at the grease before, you would have known.

"I won't," Tony scoffed with a roll of his eyes, "...Y/N will."

You gulped, eyes darting between the two Avengers as you were drawn into the fold. "Me? Tony I'm not sure that's-"

"It's essential learning. We don't just make fancy cars so you have to learn it all. Nat, you wouldn't deprive Y/N of this learning, would you?"

Natasha groaned, but eventually relented, crossing her arms and perching on the counter by the wall. "Okay, but I'm not leaving you alone with it. And Y/N?"

You looked up, fear probably showing on your face. Natasha smiled in return, and allowed you to see a glint of mischief in her eye, "give me a running commentary of what you do. I trust your honesty more than Stark's." She smirked at the last part, rolling her eyes as she pointed to Tony behind his back, an action for you and you alone to see. Something about it put you at ease, so you nodded, smiled back, then got to work, spending the rest of the session under the assassin's watchful eye.

»»————-　★　————-««

You watched the phone in your hand, hoping and waiting for those three little dots. Tony Stark was not a man famously known for his punctuality, but he’d been early to every lesson so far and now, ten minutes after you were due to meet, you’re starting to worry.

The worry wasn’t the lesson being cancelled so much as the worry that one of the other Avengers would walk in and accuse you of trespassing – there were still so many residents you hadn’t met, and without Tony present, you were just a stranger loitering unaccompanied in the Avengers’ garage, surely that looked suspicious. No matter the fact that you were supposed to be there and had gained authorised access with your security card, your anxieties continued to grow and grow.

Your heart rate sped up proportionately to the increasing rumble of an approaching bike. The seconds seemed to elongate when you knew there was no escape to being caught there alone. In the remaining time you had, you pulled your phone back out and, with shaking fingers, messaged Tony one more time – at least then you had proof, you kept your eyes on the device even as you felt the newcomer pull in and dismount from their motorbike.

“Let me guess, Tony didn’t tell you he’s away?” Your head snapped up at the familiar voice, face breaking into a grin as red hair broke free from under the helmet. Natasha had been showing up more and more frequently to your sessions, so her arrival was no surprise, but you were glad to have a friendly figure to justify your presence, lest anyone else appear. Natasha set her headgear to the side and hopped up onto the counter, following her usual routine; you watched her intently until you realised she was watching you too, still waiting for an answer.

"Oh, uh, yeah, no, he didn't- he didn't tell me. He's not coming?"

“He got called on a mission last night. Should be back in a few days, if all goes to plan, but I’ll have a word with him about keeping you informed.”

Her undivided attention unnerved you – Tony had always acted as a buffer before – so you fidgeted, avoided eye contact, and wondered what your next move should be. Thankfully, Natasha answered that last question for you: “It wouldn’t be right to send you home so soon,” she said, “And I am officially a Stark Industries employee still, you know, if you wanted…”

“Yes!” you exclaimed instantly, speaking before you thought. “I mean, yeah, if it’s no trouble. That would be awesome.”

“We both know I’d sit here and watch anyway.” She spoke softly and with a smile that you found yourself drawn to replicate, feeling more at ease in the spy’s presence. “Now then, I know about a lot of things but mechanics is an area where you might already have me beat, so how about something else?”

“Like what?”

“What do you want to know?” she shrugged, “Russian? Latin? Artillery? Archery? Wrestling? Weightlifting?” At your dumbstruck expression, Natasha smiled and realised she would have to make the choice for you, “how about the gym? You can impress Tony with your strength next time he makes you use that scissor jack.”

Your cheeks burn at the memory – neither Natasha nor Tony had said anything at the time, but both of them had needed to jump in and assist when you’d been unable to turn the jack enough for it to actually lift the car and fulfil its purpose. From Natasha’s warm smile, you could tell she still wasn’t mocking you for the incident, but you still nodded quickly and murmured agreement with her plan, before following her through the Compound towards the gym.

“Can I ask why you’re a Stark Industries employee?” you asked on the elevator, as a way to fill the silence and out of curiosity from her earlier words.

She laughed, “It was back in ‘09, we had to get intel on the newly revealed Iron Man, and the man behind the suit-”

“Tony-”

“Exactly. So, S.H.I.E.L.D. made some edits to the employee list, added my cover there, and I successfully infiltrated the company for as long as I needed. I only officially revealed myself at the 2010 Stark Expo – do you remember that? – and in all the chaos afterwards, they never officially took me off it.”

“I think I remember seeing it on TV – you were there?”

“I left before the explosions started, but I was around, trying to make sure as few people were in harm’s way as possible-” Natasha cut herself off as the two of you entered a space larger than any lecture hall, fitted with all sorts of workout machines – the majority of which you’d never seen in your life. “Here we are.”

“You use…all of this?”

She nodded, then paused, before pointing to a section in the corner where the machine structures and weights seem almost treble that of the current area. “That section’s for Steve, or Thor if he ever bothered to train. Us regular humans wouldn't move it an inch if we tried to use those machines.”

Natasha smirked and shook her head again, guiding you towards one of the regular machines: a chest pad adjusted to press against your front as you sat on the stool, while Natasha adjusted the weight and pulled the two handles back for you to grab them. With the position set, you looked up to her for advice,

“Pull the handles towards your chest and push them back to neutral, it'll work out your upper arms. That's where a mechanic will need strength the most, so aim for 10 repeats.”

Natasha watched carefully, adjusting your posture where needed, until you completed the set. You broke into a grin at the realisation that you'd managed it, one which Natasha happily replicated as she held her hands up for a high fives. “You'll be a pro in no time,” she promised, “ready to increase the load?”

The rest of the session continued in much the same manner – Natasha introduced you to different bits of equipment and perfected your form until your phone buzzed with a routine alert to mark the end of a session.

Natasha accompanied you to the door, smiling, receiving, and occasionally rebuking the many thanks you bombarded her with for stepping up. “It was truly my pleasure,” she said at last, “I'll make sure Tony is back next week, but if you want to do this again, you have my number.”

She squeezed your shoulder, turned, and began to walk back inside – all before you came to the realisation: “I don't actually have your number!” you shouted after her. Natasha didn't respond, but when you checked your phone only seconds later, a message had appeared in your notifications.

‘Yes you do :)

-N’

She really was some spy.

»»————-　★　————-««

Everything changed from then on: you walked in to Tony and Natasha arguing a week later, their sudden pause at your presence a very good indicator that they were discussing you, something they confirmed only moments later.

Next thing you knew, both Tony and Natasha had taken you on as their mentee, a session with each of them once a week, and neither of them wanted you to leave. Your apprenticeship was extended into the next academic year, where you moved even closer to the Avengers Compound to visit them more often, the two Avengers – not to mention the others they'd introduced you to – always making sure you were well cared for whenever you visited. Eventually, Tony even offered you a full-time job post-graduation as the Avengers' official mechanic, and who were you to refuse? You loved the work just as you loved spending time with your mentors, so you could think of no better job in the world.

»»————-　★　————-««

taglist: @canvascoloredin @fxckmiup @wizardofstories

#natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff & reader #natasha romanoff & y/n #natasha romanoff & you #tony stark #tony stark & reader #tony stark & y/n #tony stark & you #ikan writes #self insert fanfiction #reader insert #marvel #fanfiction #natasha romanoff fluff

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san8ny · 7 months ago

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Figure it out?

an: Maria is very condescending, reader cant stand on SHITTT, slight tommy slander, maria eats ur box idk

req: @fleshunger

It’s been days.

A week to be exact.

7 whole days that you’ve been sitting at the phone, wallowing as you twirl the cord mindlessly around your fingers.

She said she’d call. She wouldn’t lie, I mean, she said she’d send something over as a telling that he’d be gone for the week, yet no damn sign.

Sighing, you slam the phone down on the rotary dial and kick your feet over the lovechair, leaning back. She got you again.

This hasn’t been the first, second or even third time that Maria has played in your face; you like to think her job around town gives her this complex, that she can do whatever she wants with no regards to anyones feelings. That, or she really is an asshole. Or both?

After some time, (and the embroidery of the chair practically branding onto your skin) you decide to head on down to her office, see for yourself if she really is busy—

ok, you didn’t.

Lunging at the phone, you dial her work phone hastily, walking around a bit as it dials, you had it bad.

“Hello?” A scratchy voice answers, knees giving out at the raspiness laced in her usual smoothness.

“You didn’t call.” You quietly murmur into the reciever, “and you said you would.”

The older woman sighs as she instantly recognizes your sweet voice, “Baby, i’m at work.”

it’s met with a scoff, “Of course you are.”

The blonde cocks a brow at this new-found attitude, though it wasn’t unexpected, she had been admittedly avoiding you since Tommy’s departure to Arizona.

“Since when do you care what I do with my time?” She grazes, taking the end of the ballpen she’d been writing with inbetween her teeth.

“Since you started seeing me instead of your husband.”

Silence.

“That’s funny. I don’t remember you ever complaining about that?“ She chuckles, eyes trained on the plain cream wall—all while your hands grow increasingly clammier with each moment that passes

“Infact, I quite vividly remember you begging to come over whenever he left for patrols.”

“So?” You retort, pathetically trying to hide the croak in your voice that threatens to peek thorugh as Maria’s demeanor becomes cockier than ever.

“So why the sudden concern in what the fuck I do?”

She had a point; a point so concrete that it made you put the phone down all while Maria confusingly talks into it, asking if you’re still there.

So why are you tearing up now?

Were you hurt over the only woman you’ve ever liked now blatantly saying she doesn’t give a single fuck about you, or it being the cold truth?

After a moment of gathering yourself, you reach a point.

“You know what?” you clear your voice, “So be it. Be with your fucking husband, see if I care.”

“You will—

“I won’t.” You cut her off, throwing the phone across the living room, chips of dry wall coming off as the connector detaches from the wall socket.

Harshly running your palms up and down your thighs anxiously, you try to not cry.

What did you deserve to be so unloved by a person?

Meanwhile, Maria internally conflicts with herself in the office as she begrudgingly grabs her keys and walks out, unfinished papers scattered all over her desk.

she’d been debating whether or not she should continue this act up, in a sliver of a chance you get the hint and drop her like she’s done with every girl she’s ever set her sights on prior to you, but it’s only proven to have edged you on.

She likes you, she really does,

but who, in this god forsaken town, would take her serious if they found out she’d been hooking up with some random woman..all while cheating on her husband?

It’s not cheating, Maria reminds herself; she and tommy had been separated for some time, they’ve just never found the right time to announce it, or finalize it.

I mean, they’d just gotten Ellie and Joel back, set up new perimeters around town, established telephone towers and—

Fuck, does she need a drink.

Question is, if the bar is that way..

why was she at your door?

That’s the question you ask yourself as you stare up at the bleach blonde woman who seemingly tilts her head at you blankly.

you’ve got to be kidding me.

Neither one of you talk as Maria clears her voice, and you shift your weight from foot to foot.

“Well?” Maria shrugs, reaching back into her pocket and grabbing a lone cigarette, “I’m here, aren’t I?”

You blink a few times before immediately closing the door, which isn’t met with success, sterling cowboy boot wedged in-between the doorframe and the literal door.

“Mrs. Miller, get your foot out of my door.”

“Oh, it’s ‘Mrs. Miller’ now?” She taunts, looking you up and down, from the camisole you wear to the ridiculously small pajama shorts.

“It’s been that before I even met you, so yeah.”

Maria takes a few more drags as your words sink in, ultimately nodding and clicking her tongue, turning back towards the dirt path she’d just came from.

You take that as initiative to close the door, but she points a finger at you warningly, “Don’t you even try.”

After a bit, she turns back around, and walks into your home— sitting on the couch like it was nobody’s business; as if she hadn’t just left the busy office to be with her infamous call-up.

“You’ve got nerve.” You hiss, crossing your arms as you scan her attire: For a woman caring for everyone else, she barely had time for herself. Her usual put-togetherness was just..off.

Maybe that’s why she started this with you, because you’d been the only one that hasn’t seen her as some up-tight.

Maria’s low-lidded eyes drink you up, like the first time she met you outside the stables with your dad when you both arrived in Jackson.

She remembers exactly how you reacted when Tommy introduced her to you as his wife, wide eyes that screamed animosity, envy and every greed-like feeling out there.

It wouldn’t have been the first time Tommy has been chased after, I mean, look at her.

So one warm summer night, Maria decides to invite you over to help with dinner; it’d be fun, getting to know you. You arrive with some of your own cutlery and containers, smiling at her with saccharine glossy lips as you hug her.

Maria should’ve set boundaries.

She should’ve, when she saw the way your eyes would be trained on her figure as she made dinner,

Or maybe she was a hypocrite, from how she’d been using her own excuses to touch you that night.

From feeling up the silk nightgown you had on, to pressing her groin into your plush backside to ‘pass by’ or smelling your hair when you mentioned you’d switched over to this new shampoo you found.

She should have told you it was wrong,

To be feeling this way about a married woman.

She didn’t.

Instead, she took you on every surface in that house of hers that night, remembering your gasps and whines so clearly when she’d tap 2 fingers on your swollen clit, arousal spreading through her loins like a forest fire while simultaneously sitting and spreading you on her own jean-clad thighs infront of the oakdoor— the same door they were expecting Tommy to exhaustingly walk in through after patrol any minute now.

It downright was the most exhilarating thing Maria had ever experienced in her entirety of living in an apocalyptic timeline, all while being being married. The scenario that her estranged husband could walk in on her while she toys around with your messy cunt.

To say she went through some sort of realization would be an understatement, that singular event altered her brain chemistry so much so, that she could physically no longer stand to sleep in the same bed as her husband without picturing him as you, which might’ve been one of the very catalysts that caused their separation— who knows?

And it didn’t bother her, it didn’t bother her that you didn’t mind sleeping with her. The bother, was how long they could keep this up.

Until then, Maria would continue to see you.

She’d drop anything, just so she could bury her head inbetween your thighs.

Which brings us up to where they are now.

“You have to leave”

You sigh as you lean on the doorframe, shorts accentuating whatever you did or didnt have under.

“Do you want me to?” Maria whispers as she spreads her legs ever so slightly, eyes boring into your doe ones as she leans back, practically inviting you to sit on her lap.

Overstimulated and overwhelmed, your eyes begin to water up, she was so mean. How could she expect you to forget that phone call?

“Cmere, doll..” Maria utters lowly as she throws the cigarette onto a nearby ashtray and ushers you over with a beckoning hand, weak legs treading over to her as you try not to act the slightest bit effected.

You should be mad, but how could you?

How could you be mad when the older woman’s eyes glaze over as she pulls you into her arms, letting you voice your profanities and anger as she rubs your lower back?

“I love you, you know that..” She says, nodding as she looks up at you.

You sniffle as you pull back from her shoulder and look down back at her, straddling each side of her leg like your life depended on it; Maria’s gaze trickles down your body as she reaches both hands down and begins ever so lightly kneading your inner-thighs, groans betraying and escaping you.

“You can’t fucking treat me like this, and expect to come back..” You manage to say through clenched teeth, eyes looking everywhere but her own— anywhere.

Maria hums as she buries her face into your nape, littering messy kisses as broad arms wrap around your figure, grinding you down onto her own like you weighed nothing.

“I treat you better than him.” She murmurs, giving you one final chaste kiss on the lips before laying you down— both switching positions as she crouches down in between your legs— leveling her head to your mound, “Wanna see?”

You bite your bottom lip as you stare up at the ceiling, “please..” Maria licks at her dry ones, hooking her thumbs inside your shorts and rolling them down slowly, gasping at the light string of pre-cum that connects to them and your sheen pussy.

She smiles as she probes a finger lightly around the most sensitive part of you, tapping to test the waters as your hips stutter.

She’s always loved how shaven or not, it seems to always be the prettiest part about you other than your eyes and breasts.

With one final kiss to your lower stomach, Maria licks a fat strip up your pussy to your hidden-away clit, whispers of how good you taste as she lets a light glob of spit spread in with the other mess she’s going to have to clean up— happily, why of course.

“F—fuck! Maria..” You sigh contentfully as she goes to town, ravishing you like no other; Your hand busies itself by tangling inside Maria’s slickback hair, bunching up whatever you can and steering her through whatever speed you wanted.

Lifting your head up from the couch throw pillow, you finally meet her gaze, tongue darting inside and out your twitching hole. So many thoughts, yet nothing at all.

She’s lazy as she laps you up, wanting to get every detailing of your cunt before she makes you cum. She does it for herself mostly, though it makes you feel good so it’s killing 2 birds with one stone.

“Gonna, g—na! oh fuck fuck fuck! I’m gonna cum!” You cry out as Maria speeds up, drawing figure 8’s on your pearl, as her other hand holds your erratic hips down.

“There we go, there we go, ‘cmon now..give it to me.” Maria rambles into your pussy, opting to alternate and instead latch on your clit, slamming 3 long digits into you harshly.

Once you feel the hot coil in your gut begin to unravel, you feel lighter, seemingly drenching both your couch and Maria’s face in your cum.

Catching her own breath, Maria smiles, and after a while—pops the fingers out of your hole, and into her mouth instead, as she watches the milky fluid escape you and onto the ruined sofa.

And for the first time,

You notice Maria is not wearing her wedding band.

#maria miller #tlou #lesbian #wlw #tlou smut #the last of us 2

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kaeso4ka · 18 days ago

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You're favoring your Prime today…. Or is that a lie?

Pairing: yandere shattered glass Optimus Prime x reader

Somehow that cycle begins with a burning desire in the roaring systems. Prime stares and stares and stares, gazing into the familiarly bubbling room of his own throne room. Notices the flasks - and the housings in them, of course - the muted holy glow of the Arc lamps, the extraordinary silence… Has he gone into forced offline from lack of power right on his throne?

“My Prime…?”

A voice like the finest symphony catches Optimus' attention. Only now does he notice you sitting on his lap.

This is perhaps the first time Prime has ever seen you so seductively submissive. Never before have you clung to him so trustingly and willingly. A collar shimmered around your slender human neck… One you had once rejected. But not now?

“What's wrong with you?” you settle more comfortably, stroking the almost-hot metal. You try to get your palms under the joints of the armor. “I thought you'd be offline longer. Even kicked Jazz and Prowl out when they came in with some kind of report.”

Listening to you babble doesn't happen the first time. Prime doesn't want to think about anything else, especially when you're so close to him. And so benevolent.

“You're… Here today.”

“What do you mean? I'm with you every cycle,” you frown, but only for a click. The smile quickly returns, “you're tense. I want to help you.”

Before Prime can answer anything, you pull him into a kiss. The already attention-demanding systems heated up more. Optimus pressed his palms on your thighs, savoring the softness of a human body. Still human, for now.

“Open up,” you broke away from Prime's lips, tapping the mech's crotch armor, ‘I'm hot to sit on you,’ the slyness added to your familiar look. Less submissive and proactive. But it was all erased when you knelt down between Prime's servos, “I'm waiting, Optimus.”

“Slag,” Prime threw his helmet back, commanding the release of the connector. The mech didn't know the reason for your good mood today, but if there was one, it was worth taking everything. “My Spark…”

Prime looked at you, capturing every lazy movement. Capturing your every sigh and barely perceptible half smile.

The ringing of the alarm systems interrupted everything.

It took Prime a couple seconds to come back online.

A dream. It was only a dream. With a quiet growl, Optimus rose from his throne. He planned to head to you, to your shared quarters and your cage, to make the dream a reality.

#transformers #optimus prime #reader insert #yandere #optimus #optimus x reader #optimus x you #optimus x human #transformers shattered glass

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sombrashe · 8 months ago

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not edited | written on mobile | gn! reader

taking the tip of your tongue you trace over the very prominent vein. Letting out a hum you lap at his tip. The tang of pre cum and sweat burn your cheeks. His dick jumps against your palm and you smile giddy. so reactive. Gently sucking on his glans you allow the spit filling your mouth to trail down his dick. Gathering it with your palm you focus on squeezing and tugging at his shaft. Making sure to squeeze just a little tighter, only wanting to hear him whimper with every rough yank. Moving him further into your mouth his tip hits the back of your throat with every bob of your head. Twisting with every inch you took before squeezing when you pulled off. Gasping breaths took over the loud noises your throat makes every time you pull back. Breathing heavily through your nose you focus entirely on his pretty cock. Tracing the tip of your tongue along the edge of his cut tip you pull away to admire the subtle curve of his shaft. He really is such a pretty little thing and you made sure to let him know as such. His fingers tightly grip onto the end of the cable. Usb connector presses into his fingertips as you continue to tease him with your tongue. Switching your attention to pumping him you look up at him with misty eyes. Your throat strained with every inch you took him. His girth stretches your jaw so you're forced to take small breaks. You take this break opportunity to shower him with praise, his whimpers only stirring you on.

"My pretty boy. You know that? How pretty you are, baby? How pretty your dick is? How much I love having you in my mouth? Of course you don't, baby. Bet you can't even think much about anything right now. So close to cumming. Do you wanna cum?"

He can only make the subtlest of sounds. Faint whines crescendo into noisy moans. Taking him back into your mouth you bob your head with newfound vigor. You want nothing more than to hear him break. Feel him lose control on your tongue. His musk invades your every sense, in every sense of the word. The taste of him lends to the intense smell invading your nose with every motion. The smell helps your eyes water as they stay gently closed, teardrops floating down the swell of your cheeks. The brush of his pubic hair tickles the flat edge of your nose. His flesh on his hips start to spasm with every bend of your neck. Tender touches leave a fire on his unblemished skin. Nails delicately trace around the few moles littering the lower half of his body. He's no match for your endless movement. The bobs, squeezes and vibrations are sent straight to his abdomen. You can feel the way his lower abdomen contracts as he nears his end. Muscles convulse as that coil finally snaps. The long build up leads to a sneeze of pleasure bursting from behind his skin. When he comes down he is all gasps and cries of your name. You place a tender kiss to the spot right above his belly button. Moving up with your body you can finally undo the phone cord keeping his hands in place.

baners made by cafekitsune

#call of duty #call of duty smut #cod mw2 #call of duty mw2 #task force 141 #task force 141 smut #los vaqueros #los vaqueros smut #fear the walking dead #fear the walking dead smut #sombrashe writes

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girlonthelasttrain · 23 days ago

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Trying all these old consoles out again is bringing back memories though... when I was at home as a kid I usually played the green Game Boy with one of those "universal" power supplies with all the barrel-shaped connectors, so I wouldn't end up with dead batteries all the time (and ask my parents for them, which would mean getting frowns). The cable of that power supply was hilariously short so I had to play sitting on a kitchen chair backed against the wall next to the stove, angled a certain way to get maximum light from the kitchen window (again, no backlight on Game Boys!)

Anyway, once I forgot to take out the batteries when I plugged in the GB to the power supply, and after a while my hands started getting damp, which is not an unusual situation if you're playing a tough section. I wiped them on my clothes, but they were weirdly sticky, and it wasn't working. So, being a bit of a slob and not wanting to stop playing, I licked the palm of my left hand to get the stickiness out and suddenly my tongue was ON FIRE like I'd eaten a really concentrated lemon. After a few moments of 'what the hell is going on' the burning started getting really concerning so I went to wash my mouth with a toothbrush and all. When I went back to the kitchen I saw that the whole back cover of the battery compartment of the Game Boy was equally sticky and wet and the batteries were the source of it, so I hastily threw the evidence of my misdeeds away. That was my first experience of batteries catastrophically leaking, and I don't think I ever told my parents about almost swallowing battery acid because I dimly realized I'd really fucked up lol

#good times...#game boy tag

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actual-changeling · 1 year ago

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"Oh, fuck, sorry."

The connector drops with a shattering clang loud enough to echo through their pod, the glass valve inside springing apart on impact and showering her feet in a rain of splinters. In hindsight, working with bare feet is an obvious health hazard, but the sun their current station is orbiting is bringing their cooling systems to their limits, and she'd rather risk a few cuts than overheat. Still, her hands are sweaty, and while this is not the only part that has slipped from her palms so far, it is the first to break.

Cee barely feels the sting of a dozen bloody pinpricks across her skin, too busy sucking in a much needed breath after the last one got stuck in her throat long enough to make her dizzy. She steadies herself against the wall, eyelids fluttering as panic crashes over her in waves, a feeling not as old as she would like it to be, and the internal mantra of not him, not him, not him fades in the light of a new situation. It's not that she is a clumsy person, the opposite, really, yet every small mistake, every slip of hand, every broken glass, or every smoking soldering point had been followed by a gut-wrenching sigh of deep-seated annoyance at best and a bone-chilling surge of words at worst.

Her mind is wandering before she can stop it, memories flickering by like stars, only more horrifying and less beautiful while burning just as bright, and with her vision darkening, the sudden weight of a hand on her shoulder makes her flinch. Glass crunches beneath her soles when her body sways in an attempt to move away, sending pain straight up her leg. The fall she was about to take was only stopped by the very same hand wrapping around her arm.

The collision with Ezra's chest knocks the air out of her as a bitter mixture of anxiety and relief fills her mouth, shame burrowing its way through her skin.

"Sorry, I- sorry."

Catching her breath, her head finds its way to its usual resting place, and she closes her eyes to bury her face fully in his neck.

"Sorry," she mumbles again, her words muffled by his skin, and she isn't even sure what exactly she is apologizing for - dropping the connector or once again flinching away from him.

His arm slips around her back with practiced ease, the pressure of his palm rubbing circles between her shoulder blades not only comforting but gently urging her lungs to relax.

"Nothing to be sorry for, little bird. I should have asked first, I simply meant to prevent you from further injury - not that I was very successful."

The pain fades as tears sting in her eyes instead, and she clamps her jaw shut and grits her teeth to keep them from falling, willing her brain to just shut up. Ezra, she reminds herself, Ezra, not him. Ezra, Ezra, Ezra, his name looping and bouncing around her head, erasing the panic obstructing its path, and she doesn't realize her fingers are clinging to the back of his shirt until her knuckles ache. Cee swallows another bout of tears when he presses a soft kiss to her temple, not loosening his hold but tugging her away from the mess on the floor.

"Come on, birdie, let me fix you up."

#alex writes prospect #prospect 2018 #cee and ezra #ezra and cee #cee prospect #ezra prospect #prospect movie #sharing smth i wrote on discord for my besties #cause they liked it and this fandom is small and we all need the crumbs #if you like tlou I SWEAR you will like prospect #pedro found family father daughter relationship #thats all you need to know #watch prospect and join us in the brainrot

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fandombead · 6 months ago

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Returning the Favor

Word count: 2,690 || It's on AO3!

Summary: When you help a fae, you are owed a favor of equal value. And fae do not forget their debts. Patton always just wanted to help, with no strings attached. That isn't how it works and maybe he's grateful for that, in hindsight.

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Chapter 1: Kind

[Prologue]

Janus’ heart pounded in his skull, a steady reprimand for the situation he’d gotten himself into. How could he have been so stupid? He’d allowed himself to get separated from his attendant, foolishly thinking he could handle an outing on his own. How quickly circumstances had gone awry.

He pulled for the eighteenth time in vain against the spider web, and only seemed to get more of himself stuck in the sticky cross-strands circling the connectors of the web. It really was just bad luck: the young fae had been distracted trying to hide from a hawk overhead and, of course, the first bush he ducked into had a near-invisible massive spider web.

He’d flown into it at full speed, and the recoil of it had gotten his limbs tangled in the fine threads. His poor wings had it the worst, as he’d made the mistake of trying to flap on instinct to get free and only pinned them directly into it. He had no leverage to push off of the web and he didn’t particularly want to deal with a pissed-off hungry spider. A shadow fell over him and he had to wonder if his luck truly sucked so much that the bird had actually found him.

“Oh! You’re– You’re not a butterfly.”

Janus blinked and found himself looking up, perplexed and dreading at the young voice…two giant blue eyes on a round freckled face stared down at him, a half-done flower crown carefully clutched in the hand sticking over the bush. Janus’ eyes narrowed. A human was the last thing he needed to get involved.

“Away with you! Leave, I don’t want your involvement.”

“But aren’t you stuck? I can help, I won’t hurt you.” the human replied, walking around the bush and kneeling behind Janus, which was unnerving.

Janus scowled, trying to keep eyes on the human despite being trapped on his front. He renewed his struggle but all it was doing was making him tired. “I said I do not need it.”

The human sat back with a worried expression, but their big hands made no move to grab Janus. “Okay. I’ll make sure you get out safely, though.”

Janus craned his neck to squint at them unhappily, but they seemed intent on just keeping watch for the spider that was surely around. Janus scowled to himself, humiliated as his pulling and twisting did nothing to improve the situation. No matter how he tugged or tried to rip his arms free, the strands stuck to him. It was all he could do to not get his head stuck too.

He grunted in frustration, silently cursing this human for bearing witness to his vulnerable moment as he was quickly tiring but refused to stop on principle with the large, wide eyes occasionally turning on him with what couldn’t be worry. No, it was likely pity, as he struggled like a mere insect waiting to die as nature intended for small creatures like him: victim of his size and bad luck. He gritted his teeth, refusing to succumb to the hot frustration behind gold eyes.

The human suddenly squealed in alarm as the spider crawled down the web towards its net’s prey. “Careful!! It’s coming! Oooh– please—“

Janus flinched as he saw the massive spider crawl out onto the web. He struggled futilely to get a hand free as panic got to him. “Okay! O-Okay, get me– oof!”

Janus felt a gentle pinch of his sides and felt himself get pulled up. The web tore away easily, though he was still covered in it as he found himself in the human’s loose fist.

The child scampered back from the bush with the fairy cupped in their palm, looking around frantically for where the spider had fallen when he’d torn its web. He shuddered, trying to shove it from his mind after checking around for a long moment. He then looked down at the web-covered fae he’d saved and tried not to think about the web now stuck to his hands as a result.

“Are you okay?”

Janus ignored the question, electing instead to keep swiping at his arms and legs as he hopelessly tried to get the webbing off of him. It wasn’t so much too strong for his pulling as it was sticky, just getting more onto his hands as he knelt trying to get it off of him.

The human let him stay in his palm as he watched, and Janus did not like being gawked at. If his wings weren’t still covered and weighed down by the webbing, he’d have already tried to take off. But he was rather grounded as he worried how he was going to reach and clean them himself.

He frowned up at the human after a moment, more wary than upset. He’d accepted help without asking the conditions. It was foolish to let himself. “And what would you ask of me after doing such a priceless favor?”

He hoped it was just that, a favor. He knew how valuable his kind were to humans in the trade for magic items. He didn’t know if a child would grasp the sort of value he had. Stars, even he didn’t know. Only his mother and caretakers had warned him of such things while venturing out, that humans weren’t to be trusted as they’d take him regardless of his age. He was just an object to them and now he’d gotten himself at the mercy of one. Maybe he should have taken his chances with the spider. If he got back home, his mother would surely never let him leave the kingdom again.

If he called for help, he wondered if Emile would hear him. Would that only alert the human to more fae for the taking? He didn’t want to drag Emile into this, but he now wanted the teacher here to get him out safely. Emile would be upset if he just allowed himself to be taken for his sake, though. He’d know what to do and say to appease the human.

But while Janus had been spiraling down those thoughts, he hadn’t noticed the human shifting until he felt his stomach drop.

He looked around in a panic as the human stood, the slightly crushed flower crown hanging in the crook of his arm as he focused on cupping Janus securely. “Um. I ask if you need some water to help get the strings off?” he answered a bit unsurely.

Janus blinked, staring blankly until he remembered the last thing he’d said.

The fairy made an unamused face, but the human seemed entirely genuine. Janus shifted uneasily but knew that it would help. Still, he wasn’t keen on wracking up more unpayable debts. But how else would he get back to flying? And the longer his large wings were covered in the spider silk, the harder they’d be to clean.

“Why?” he demanded, eyes narrowed. “So you can take me to the other humans that sent you and sell me??”

The other looked startled. “Wha– no! No, I didn’t even know you weren’t a butterfly,” he defended. “I really thought you were a poor swallowtail that got trapped. H-How else are you gonna get home?”

Janus studied him for a long moment, making the human squirm a little. “…okay.” he sighed, covering his face. “But don’t take me far!”

The other child perked up and nodded quickly, his caramel curls bouncing off his head with each nod. “No problem! There’s a stream right over here.”

The tiny fae grimaced. He already knew that, as it was the very one he’d run into minutes before. Emile was probably losing his mind on the other bank with worry. “Silly mortal. I cannot cross running water, let alone get in it. It is a wretched barrier to my kind.”

Blue-eyes looked perplexed. “How did you cross it in the first place, then? Did you fly really high?”

Janus sighed. “Of course not, that wouldn’t work. I…I rode a turtle swimming across.” he admitted, embarrassed. And admittedly he hadn’t thought it through until he was halfway across. If that turtle had decided to duck under...

“Oh. You’re stuck over here?” the larger child asked, something like sympathy in his tone that made Janus bristle a little.

“I just wanted to see what was on this side because I’ve never been, and I can find my own way back! And I’ll be cleaning my own wings, so you can keep your huge human hands to yourself.”

He chose not to acknowledge that he was already in the human’s palm, because then he’d be reminded of the little power he truly had. But maybe he could trick the human into not realizing that. At that, he added, “And I don’t even know your name.”

Even as they talked the human child still had been walking and stopped at the stream. He knelt beside it, looking across curiously before down at his passenger now only in one hand.

The child tilted his head, then opened his mouth eagerly before pausing. “My Ma says I shouldn’t give strangers my name,” he said apologetically and Jan smirked if only to hide his nerves and rolled his eyes.

“Yeah, I bet she did, then. Still, I should call you something.”

The human thought for a moment, looking at the abandoned wildflower crown to his right. “You can…call me Blue? Like Bluebell— my family calls me that sometimes,” he explained, hoping that would work.

Janus sensed no lie and he acquiesced. Not hard to see where they’d gotten that.

“What can I call you?” Blue questioned, eagerly leaning forward some.

The young fae folded his arms and shook his head. “I did not agree to an exchange.” he deflected, and Blue wilted.

“Oh. I suppose that’s true,” he replied, rubbing his arm awkwardly.

Jan eyed him for a long moment. “You can call me Jay.”

The human’s eyes widened and just as fast he shifted back to beaming.

“Okay, Jay! Aw, it’s like the bird, right? That’s a little funny,” he giggled. “Blue and Jay. Blue Jay~”

Jan shook his head at the antics. “Alright, Blue. Tell me what exactly your reasoning was for bringing me here?”

Blue set him down beside him. “I’m gonna help you clean off so you can fly and then I can get you back home across the river,” he explained before grinning. “No strings attached!”

Jay didn’t look particularly pleased. “I already said I did not want you to help with my wings,” he said, the black and yellow wings fluttering anxiously behind him as he tried very hard to not let them close on each other.

Blue nodded. “Don’t worry, I won’t have to! Trust me, I have an idea.”

Janus eyed the human and then the stream. “I cannot trust one of the same who have harmed my kind for centuries, no matter how naive. You will be just like them one day.”

“I refuse to be.” Blue insisted, not even wavering at the accusation while reaching into the water with cupped hands. “I can't prove it now but I can help you. If you let me,” he said, gazing over at Jan as he offered the carefully captured water to the fairy. “Just flap your wings in the water and the web should come loose.”

Jan stared up at him as if trying to find the answers written in the tan freckles splattered across Blue’s face. “Why would you just help me for nothing?”

“Because you need it. And I can give it. That’s enough reason to help. You don’t have to do anything but maybe trust me a little bit. It’s just like…like a favor. I don’t need anything back.”

Janus stepped closer, then looked down at the lightly dripping pool of water in Blue’s palms. He wouldn’t be able to fly until his wings dried, but he already couldn’t do that anyway. He wouldn't be any more at the human’s mercy than he was now unless the human planned on getting him sick. The idea was outlandish even to him.

He set his hand gently on Blue’s index finger. “…okay.”

Jay ended up sitting together with Blue for over an hour, after having dipped his wings into the water and to his relief, making them easier to clean. He didn’t like his wings being wet, but it would not damage them. They talked while Janus sunned for a bit, hesitantly at first then more at ease as it became clear Blue was keeping to his word.

The sun was getting lower in the sky and Blue set down the small flower crown he’d been painstakingly weaving out of a bunch of tiny purple wildflowers they’d found nearby. Blue offered it to Janus, who had been watching curiously as the human struggled with large fingers to not crush the plants as he worked. The fairy took it gingerly, then peered up at Blue curiously.

“You wear it! If you want to. It’s a flower crown.” he explained, and Janus’s eyes widened. How had this human even known?

Janus looked down at it, before carefully setting it on his head and Blue looked delighted. “Aw, purple looks lovely on you!” he giggled happily, and Janus’s wings fluttered unconsciously.

Blue beamed before looking around, then down at his companion again. “Your wings look like they’re all dry, can you fly yet?”

Janus blinked, looking back at them. He flapped testingly for any extra water weight and was able to get off the ground with no problem. He smiled lightly, nodding. “They’re dry,” he confirmed. “I could get home.”

Blue nodded back and stood, offering Janus his palms. “Let’s get you across, then. We don’t want your family being any more worried.”

Blue took him to a shallow, narrow part of the stream not too far down and carried Jay back across, simple as that. It stunned Jay how easy it really was.

He looked back at Blue and gave him a bow as he hovered, intrigued by this strange human he would never run into again. Blue waved and did not follow as Jay zipped off to find his distraught mentor for the scolding of a lifetime.

A favor.

Such a simple phrase for something that was so valuable that he could not repay with anything he had to offer. Considering what could have happened had Blue not intervened, it was a life-debt. But that was the point, wasn’t it? Blue had chosen not to bind him to the deed and yet it felt like something he couldn’t be released from so easily, beyond the laws of magic and hospitality and dealings.

He’d never heard of a human-like that before. And he couldn’t stop thinking about them long after he’d made it safely back home.

He set the flower crown on his intricately carved toadstool table beside his bed. It would stay preserved, as bright as the day it was created, forever. It was a reminder. A fitting symbol of a debt that was not something he could truly even repay, he knew, but that didn’t mean the opportunity would never arise.

He went to sleep, with many questions and thoughts on the boy who had helped a fae for nothing in return and, not one to accept things for free, wondered if he really would continue to hold those beliefs or grow up to regret having not taken advantage of his finding as a foolish young one. Janus wondered if he himself would, in a swapped scenario. It only made Blue’s actions that much more perplexing. Maybe he could ask Emile. Maybe he would understand it after some years: this level of thoughtless selflessness.

He concluded it just had to be that the boy hadn’t understood what kind of offer he’d had. Janus figured he’d gotten very lucky for that: as the crown prince, he had much to lose being captured by humans.

But the kind eyes and the easy conversation were hard to consolidate with simple ignorance. He would find out what it really was, someday.

((Thank you for reading!))

#sanders sides #patton sanders #janus sanders #ts patton #ts sides #ts janus #tss fanfic #sanders sides fic #how do i tag this on tumblr omg #my writing #returning the favor AU

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itsuki-minamy · 1 year ago

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"K - RETURN OF KINGS" (Novel)

CHAPTER 9: NEKO'S DREAM (Part 4)

* List of Chapters

Translation: Naru-kun Raws: Ridia

"Seems more like foul play, Seri-chan."

"I'll do whatever it takes to get the job done."

Awashima knelt down and touched the staff member's body. She quickly found the PDA on his chest and tossed it at Kusanagi. Kusanagi activated it, used a connector hacking tool to breach the security, and started viewing the data on it.

When he searched the history, he found what he was looking for in one go.

"There is a list of participants in the party. If we take this..."

"We will be able to identify influential people who have been touched by "Jungle"."

Once again, Awashima's gaze returned to the sharpness of a bird of prey. Who is leading the various acts of sabotage that "Scepter 4" is currently suffering in public and the plans to introduce "Jungle" into ministries and agencies? In the end, they are probably just Hisui Nagare's limbs, but if they are raised, their movements will slow down. The disqualification of "Scepter 4" may be stopped.

Seeing Awashima look at the PDA, Kusanagi shrugged and laughed.

"Hey, let's go. If we stay too long..."

At that moment, he heard someone's voice under his feet.

"D4, answer me. The retinal response disappeared. What happened?"

Awashima and Kusanagi saw it at the same time. Communication voices leak from the mask of the lying down staff member. The retina response means that the skin has the function of notifying the user when something goes wrong.

"Come on."

"Yes."

He turned quickly on his heel and opened the door. Almost at the same time, a loud voice echoed from the end of the hall.

"They are there!"

Three clan members with mechanical masks. It is not a number that he cannot win in a direct fight, but it is troublesome to draw a pistol. With a click of his tongue, Kusanagi turned and ran. Awashima did the same.

"I don't care, shoot!"

Along with the incredible words, gunshots and live bullets were fired. Kusanagi lowered his head and rounded the corner, turning around and cursing.

"Are they crazy?! There are some VIPs though!"

"Even if you delete one or two, you should be able to get rid of them…just leave them there!"

"I understand!"

The elevator was about to reach the end of the hall. He pressed the button as if to slam it shut, look back. Almost at the same time the doorbell rang and the elevator doors opened.

From inside, a burly man wearing a mask stretched out his arms.

"Kyaa?!"

"Seri-chan!"

With his log-shaped arm choking Awashima's throat, the giant man drew a gun with his other hand and fired at Kusanagi. A bullet grazed Kusanagi's hair, but he jumped undeterred, daring to jump into the narrow elevator shaft.

"No!"

The big man raised an annoyed voice and his muzzle twitched. He pulled the trigger two and three times, but Kusanagi bounced inside the box with a masira-like movement, preventing him from aiming. Using the springs in his body, he jumped near the floor display panel and delivered a strong kick to the big man's head.

"Uh...!"

The giant staggered, but perhaps it was because of the protective mechanism of the mask, or because of the resistance of his physique, that he stopped in a moment. A hail of bullets rained down on Kusanagi, who was crawling in a crouch. Kusanagi dodged it with a breakdancing move and raised her voice.

"Seri-chan!"

"Eh!"

Awashima wriggled free of the kick-loosened restraint and jabbed her elbow into the pit of the giant man's stomach. Awashima grabbed his arm, which had gone limp in pain, and twisted with all her might. By the principle of leverage, the giant man's body leaned forward, Awashima's palm sank into his neck, and Kusanagi's kick that slipped on the ground swept across his foot almost at the same time.

Kusanagi let out a huge sigh after delivering the final blow to the face and crotch of the giant man who had fallen on his back.

"Don't throw him at me in such a small space. If he bounces, he'll hit you."

"There's no way this kind of idiot would think of such a thing, right?"

Saying to spit it out, Awashima reached for the gun, pulled out the magazine, and fired the last shot remaining in the chamber at his feet. With the quickness of a soldier, Kusanagi whistled. At that moment, the elevator reached the underground parking lot. While he was wary of an ambush, he immediately jumped.

The underground car park, where many luxury cars were parked, was not popular. Awashima warned him as they ran.

"The exit is closed."

"Let's do it. But with this...!"

Kusanagi quickly searched for the stolen PDA. In a hotel where "Jungle" is alive, the security system should be able to work through an electronic network. Sure enough, security-related applications were quickly found. Continuing the operation, the blind at the rear of the parking lot was finally opened and light from the electric light came in.

"Ugh, looks like we managed to escape."

It was then that he took a deep breath and felt relieved.

A green flash appeared, brushing against Kusanagi's hand.

"Kusanagi-kun!"

Awashima let out a surprised voice. Kusanagi couldn't even do that and stared at his empty hand. The valuable evidence that could identify the collaborators stolen from the "Jungle" PDA was pierced by the thrown knife, destroyed without a trace, and fell to the ground.

"Damn...!"

With a bitter groan, Kusanagi turned his hostile gaze into the darkness at the rear of the parking lot.

"Emergency mission accomplished! You get 3000 "Jungle" points!"

An electronic voice sounded like a reward for completing a game that doesn't fit the scene. A flash of green lightning pierced the darkness, revealing someone standing there.

Awashima took a deep breath.

"Who is...?!"

In contrast to the annoying Awashima, the person only had a mechanical, expressionless expression. He pulled out two knives from his chest and wrapped them in green supernatural powers. That glow, this time clearly, began to illuminate the man's face.

"Rank up! Saruhiko Fushimi has been promoted to J-Rank of "Jungle". Congratulations!"

"Fushimi!"

The moment he called out his name, Fushimi threw a glowing green knife at him. Kusanagi stepped forward and crushed the knife with the flames from his lighter.

He wasn't allowed to say the many "whys" that were going through his head. Kusanagi said in a suppressed voice, the red eldritch wrapped around his lighter arm.

"Fushimi. I will listen to your story at the hospital."

The next moment, Kusanagi created multiple fireballs. A direct hit would inevitably cause severe burns, but he unleashed it at Fushimi without hesitation. Fushimi looked at him with an expressionless face.

Suddenly, a man emerged from the ground behind him.

The person emerged from the ground and grabbed Fushimi's shoulder. Fushimi was sucked into the ground as if he was repeating the moment when he appeared upside down. The fireball went through an empty space, hit the rear wall of the parking lot and exploded.

Kusanagi clicked his tongue and muttered.

"Green clan member...!"

"Fushimi! Why, Fushimi?!"

Awashima's agitation was no match for Kusanagi's. With grief more than anger, she called out the name of her former subordinate who had already disappeared. Her feelings were too difficult to guess. Because he showed her his betrayal in the cruelest way possible.

That's why Kusanagi couldn't afford to be carried away by his emotions. He put his hand on the shoulder of Awashima who was standing up and urged her on.

"Seri-chan, that's all for today."

Awashima bit her lip, but nodded clearly. From somewhere far away, the roar of the enemy guards approached them. Kusanagi and Awashima fled from the voice and headed towards the exit of the parking lot.

++++++++++

"Congratulations!"

An unexpectedly bright voice greeted Fushimi as he entered the room.

Hotel Milenio, VIP room. Sitting on a long couch in the center of a room so large it could be mistaken for a hallway, the man slowly clapped his hands. The easy smile that floated on his lips seemed welcoming and ridiculous at the same time, at least to Fushimi's eyes.

The CEO of "Jungle" Corporation, Mishakuji Yukari. Until just a month ago, this man was his adversary. Mishakuji knows this too.

Even so, he calmly pointed to the couch opposite.

"Please make yourself comfortable. Saruhiko-chan. You have the right to."

Fushimi obeyed his words and pursed his lips in a bow.

Mishakuji reached out and took the champagne from the wine cellar. He poured the two glasses of wine onto Fushimi's side and then poured. Raising his glass slightly, Mishakuji winked at him.

"To the birth of a new classifier. And to your free soul. Let's make a little toast."

"Freedom?"

Fushimi didn't even reach for the glass. He doesn't know what's in it and drunkenness slows his judgment.

Mishakuji didn't seem to mind that, and he calmly raised the wineglass to his lips and tilted it.

"Isn't that so? Izumo Kusanagi and Seri Awashima, whom you defeated, were your acquaintances. The reason why you can throw knives in front of your former comrades without hesitation is because you are free."

"In short, are you saying that I am a traitor?"

"It's up to you how you take it. But I don't mean to disrespect you. I mean it, I don't hate it. The determination of people to do what they want without being bound by rules or ethics is beautiful."

Mishakuji narrowed his eyes and stared at Fushimi. Like to see through his thoughts.

Fushimi clicked his tongue sharply in response.

"I don't care about your assessment. Instead, would you let me meet the "Green King" quickly?"

Mishakuji raised the champagne to his mouth again and chuckled.

"Oh, you're pretty impatient, aren't you? You've become the classified you've always wanted, so why don't you soak in the glow a little more?"

"It's not my wish and it's not like I'm immersed in the afterglow. I just did what I could."

"That's not cute. If Sukuna-chan heard that, he'd be mad."

As he said that, Mishakuji put down his glass and got up from the couch. With slow steps, he walked towards the cabinet placed in the corner of the room. When he touched the elegant wooden door with his palm, a scanning light swept up and down, and an electronic voice resounded.

"J-Rank confirmed, Mishakuji Yukari. I'll open the door."

The cabinet was lifted without a sound and opened to the left and right. Beyond is a stout freight elevator. Mishakuji entered and called out to Fushimi.

Fushimi sighed and got up.

"Is it a spy movie or something?"

At that irony, Mishakuji smiled brightly.

"Because it's our "secret base". Without that trick, it would be boring."

Fushimi entered the elevator and looked inside. There were no floor numbers or buttons like in a normal elevator, just a palm-shaped interface on the side of the door. As Mishakuji put his hand on it, the door closed and the elevator began to move silently.

From the acceleration applied to his body, he knew that he was descending at considerable speed. After several tens of seconds, the elevator slowly came to a stop, and the doors opened to the left and right.

The place he entered was a dimly lit corridor. A motion sensor was activated, the lights came on, and a blind appeared, blocking the way.

While Mishakuji was in front of him, a scanning light was directed at his face. Retina authentication. After that, the shutter began to open vertically.

He did not know that such an underground passage existed in the middle of the city. The locks are tight and it's pretty deep.

Behind the shutter was a vast underground space. Stone pillars that look like temples stand side by side, and the light falling from far above illuminates the two in front of them in white. As he walked by, Mishakuji chatted casually.

"It is a secret passageway to our hideout. There are more than 100 exits in Tokyo alone. In the main subways and underground floors of skyscrapers. It is one of the most important secrets that no one knows except the top of our "Jungle"."

Fushimi raised an eyebrow. As a member of "Scepter 4", he knows better than anyone how important current information is. By exhaustively searching the main subway stations and skyscrapers with underground floors, and discovering them from the entrances leading to their hideouts, it is possible to invade the "Jungle" headquarters, which has been hidden until now.

"Is it okay for you to tell me that?"

"Of course. You're already a classified. A companion who shares secrets with us."

Or, Fushimi thought. Maybe they think it's okay to be located. Will they believe "Scepter 4" is lost and no longer has the power to defeat "Jungle" head on?

As if he ignored Fushimi's thoughts, Mishakuji continued with a light tone.

"This time it was a great achievement, Saruhiko-chan. Against "Homura" and "Scepter 4", the number 2 of both clans, fighting alone. Fufu, you should have called for reinforcements, don't exaggerate."

"I don't like cooperative play or anything like that."

"You're lying."

Saying that lightly, Mishakuji looked at Fushimi. The color of his smile and his purple eyes, which had a bit of a piercing light, stared at Fushimi.

"You personally recruited U-Rank Hirasaka Douhan, monopolized the "Jungle" points for two people, and thought of achieving a quick rank rise. You cheating child."

Fushimi didn't bother even though he was caught off guard. That's because he expected the title to have been fulfilled. Faithless whispers.

"It was possible in the system, but couldn't it be done?"

"No way. It's selfish and wonderful. Besides, my Nagare-chan doesn't care about fouls."

Fushimi's eyebrows twitched at the name.

"The "Green King" Hisui Nagare."

"Our King I think likes people who think like that."

The words rang in Fushimi's ears as if they had various meanings.

Fushimi doesn't know anything about Hisui Nagare. But still he knew very well what he was thinking.

Did Saruhiko Fushimi really betray "Scepter 4"?

If so, "Jungle" deliberately invited internal disease. The information that Fushimi, who became a J-Rank, can obtain at his base of operations is immensely important. If that information can be brought to "Scepter 4", the situation can be reversed.

If Fushimi were in Hisui Nagare's position, he would be the first to be suspicious. He would not be promoted to J-Rank. Even if he made a mistake, he couldn't invite it to his base.

But Hisui Nagare does.

Fushimi doesn't like that. Because he makes him feel like a monkey dancing in the palm of Hisui Nagare's hand.

He sometimes he feels that he is swimming.

But the really important things only exist in the tiger's den.

"Come here."

Mishakuji stopped in front of a huge wall.

A thick old door was attached, resembling a shelter, which blocks the underground space. Facing that door, Mishakuji calmly spread his arms.

"Welcome, Saruhiko Fushimi. The "secret base" of "Jungle" welcomes you."

It was unlocked. The door opened slowly with a heavy sound.

Once he set foot there, there will be no going back. Will he fulfill his purpose or leave as a corpse? One of two. He had been prepared for that for a long time, so he did not hesitate to take the plunge.

Still, the moment he stepped forward, the face of a man flashed across his mind.

(Will he get here?)

He may not come. Anyway, he's crazy. He is an idiot who shoots 0 points in a row. It's possible that he doesn't understand what he was saying and it's all over while he's going back and forth.

However, there are times when he gets 100 points.

Fushimi's lips twitched slightly, but when he took the next step, he was gone. With a bored expression on his face, he advanced into the darkness of the tiger's den.

++++++++++

The glass fell to the floor and shattered with a screeching sound.

But Yata didn't notice that. The fist that hit the counter table trembled. His blood seemed to drain and he squeezed his voice through the cracks in his teeth.

"What the hell is he thinking?!"

Kamamoto and Anna looked at Yata as if holding their breath. Kusanagi, standing behind the counter, called out to him in a low voice.

"Calm down, Yata."

However, those words did not reach the current Yata. Yata yelled his anger at that man, Saruhiko Fushimi, who is somewhere.

"You betrayed us, and this time you betrayed even the blue ones, so what are you going to do? What the hell is going on beyond that?"

There is no response to the words that he spits out with passion. Nobody should have known. What Fushimi is thinking and what he is trying to do, the answer can only be found in Fushimi.

He is a traitor.

Those words came to mind and Yata carelessly scratched the mark on his chest.

++++++++++

It's been a long time since she finished her report.

Every time the second hand ticks, a drop of anxiety runs through Awashima's heart. Beyond the office desk, Munakata's expression seemed to be the same as always, but Awashima wasn't sure if that was really the case. After being defeated in the "Battle of Mihashira Tower", something in Munakata decisively changed. That fact has turned into a stagnation of anxiety, and there is always pain within Awashima.

"I see."

Suddenly, Munakata opened his mouth.

"With this, Fushimi Saruhiko's secession became decisive. It's like having your dog bite your hand."

There was also no change in tone from him. Quiet and young, everything is in the palm of his hand, and his eyes say that even if someone like Fushimi leaves him, it will have no effect.

(Is it really so?)

Awashima lowered her head to suppress the voice that seemed to come from within.

"Sorry. It's my responsibility to supervise."

Munakata narrowed his eyes as if he was considering whether he was listening to the apology or not.

"Anyway, we have to fill the void he left as soon as possible. To reinforce the front line, we will transfer several personnel to the Special Forces. 2 people from the Mobile Division general platoon, 3 people from the Information Division and 1 person from the Reference Room of the General Affairs Division."

General affairs section.

She thought she heard it wrong. General affairs departments are often staffed with non-combat fit personnel. There are no adequate personnel for the most elite "Special Forces Corps" in battle.

No. It's also different.

Awashima knows that there is only one suitable person.

"Excuse me."

At that voice, Awashima trembled and turned around.

With a slimy movement, the demon entered the office.

"You...!"

Like flowing water, demons never stop moving. With very natural steps, he advanced to the center of the room.

At that moment, the demon exploded.

Awashima's eyes could not capture the moment when the stillness turned to action, just as the murmur turned into a torrent in an instant. Within a few meters of a single step, the saber running from Zenjo's waist was perfectly positioned on Munakata's neck, beyond the office desk.

"......"

Awashima not only acts as the vice commander of "Scepter 4". Her swordsmanship is the best of the Special Forces and she has never been behind most of the members.

Even she, far from stopping Zenjo's outrage, couldn't even react. It was the demon who had his hand on the hilt of his saber.

Munakata did not lose his composure. A white blade approached the nape of his neck, literally a piece of skin. From there she saw something fall.

It was a mistake. It was cut in half and twitching nervously.

With one arm, he swung the long sword around and Zenjo returned it to his sheath.

"I'm sorry."

"Amazing."

Now that he had picked a fly out of his clothes, it seems that was it. Thinking of that, Awashima cleared her throat.

"Gouki Zenjo, the "Zenjo Demon" who killed the predecessor "Blue King" Habari Jin. From now on, I will have you behind me."

The "King Killer" would be behind.

Awashima understood exactly what that meant.

When Weismann's deviation from the "King" reaches a critical point, the "Sword of Damocles" that was looming over his head falls, bringing ruin to the land. However, if the "King's" life disappears before it drops completely, that is not the case. Yes, if someone can kill the "King" before that happens...

Just like Zenjo did with Habari Jin.

Just like Munakata did with Suoh Mikoto.

Placing that sword behind his back meant that he had his own destruction in sight. To drop his own head before the sword above his head falls. As a sword for that purpose, Munakata chose Zenjo.

Awashima bit her lip and lifted trembling fingers from her saber.

Various emotions swirled and she couldn't contain a single shock.

And she, smart, knew it. That tremor, that fluctuation, was the main reason why she was not chosen.

++++++++++

Pan-pan-pan, a somewhat silly sound resounded.

Ribbons and confetti fluttered and piled above Fushimi's head as he stood in the doorway. Fushimi didn't even pay, he just stood under the board that said "Welcome Fushimi-kun" with an inorganic expression on his face.

"Hey, nice to meet you Saruhiko-kun! Welcome!"

"Thank you for coming, Saruhiko. Welcome."

"Kwah! Welcome!"

Iwafune, Nagare, and Kotosaka greeted him. Even so, Fushimi did not lose his iron expression and answered in a low voice.

"...Thank you."

His line of sight moved slowly, scanning the room.

It was a room like a cheap apartment. The kitchen is full of soot and a rickety fridge has a note telling you when it's your turn to take out the trash. If you look all over Japan, there are probably tens of thousands of one-room apartments with six mats that you can find anywhere.

No one would believe that this is the home of the "Jungle" Green Clan.

But Fushimi knows it's true. This show, which seemed like a practical joke, would be "like" if you know "Jungle" well. The one in the middle, a man in a wheelchair, has that hobby.

The "Green King" Hisui Nagare.

He was younger than he had imagined and more disturbing than he had thought. Even now, he looked at Fushimi with a mysterious smile.

"Okay, let's not just stand up talking. First of all, sit down."

The cheerful middle-aged man is Iwafune Tenkei. His other name is Otori Seigo, the "Grey King". It was the trump card of the Green Clan that won the last battle of Mihashira Tower.

The trump card put a plate of sushi on the table with a happy-go-lucky smile.

"This lazy Iwa-san went all the way to town and bought it. Real sushi! Not one of those food stalls. Look, what would you like? Tuna? Sea urchin? Salmon roe or shrimp?"

Despite the familiar welcome, Fushimi insisted on not placing orders.

"Okay, eggs."

"Heh, are you a boy?"

The only one who whispered was Sukuna Gojou, a boy who had his back to Fushimi. Sukuna's disgusted attitude from the moment Fushimi entered was, on the contrary, easy to understand and comfortable for Fushimi.

Iwafune rebuked Sukuna.

"Hey, you're the kid, aren't you? Oh, yes, there's more than just sushi! Eat chicken! Fried chicken!"

"Eat chicken! Eat chicken!"

"Don't say that, you silly bird!"

Sukuna punched Kotosaka, who spread his wings and made a racket. Seeing that, Iwafune frowned in embarrassment.

"What's up, Sukuna? You've been acting weird for a while now. Are you shy? Huh?"

Sukuna snorted and turned around. Iwafune looked at Fushimi and shrugged slightly.

There, Nagare intervened.

"Saruhiko, you've risen five ranks in just one month. This speed surpasses Sukuna's previous speed. It's really amazing. It's a new record."

Immediately, Sukuna's disgust turned visibly darker. Fushimi observed the situation emotionlessly.

"Nagare... let's talk about that another time."

"Eh, why do you say that, Iwa-san? I'm confused."

"Why? Sukuna, it's okay, so put yourself in a good mood. The beginning of a relationship is important and a smile is essential. You can't do well if you keep getting angry like this. Isn't that right, Saruhiko-kun?"

Through his observations up to this point, images of each person and their relationships have emerged, albeit vaguely.

Hisui Nagare, despite all the brilliance of him, seems to have a simple childishness. It seems that the blunt way of saying that something is awesome honestly doesn't fit with the intricately twisted conspiracy of "Jungle". Or maybe that distortion is the reason why he is called the "Green King".

Sukuna, on the other hand, was unmistakably just a child. His desire to be recognized by Hisui Nagare is transparent. That's probably why he's hostile towards Fushimi. Fushimi can be seen as a rival that threatens his position.

On the other hand, Iwafune is an adult. It must be said that he is suitable for his age, he is trying to mediate in the place of the pure and somewhat unsympathetic Nagare. Including his ability, he can be the base of this "secret base".

While he was thinking about those things, Fushimi responded with a single answer.

"No, it's fine. It doesn't matter."

"Oh, really?"

Iwafune relaxed and sat down on the couch. He raised a beer and made a toast.

"Ok, if you want to act cool, that's fine by me."

"I didn't come here to make friends."

"Then why are you here?"

Mishakuji Yukari, who had been silent until then, whispered.

He could feel the air in the room warm for a moment. Fushimi Saruhiko. Former number 3 of "Scepter 4". Why did a man who used to be his enemy get promoted to Ranker? Even if he didn't put it into words, everyone including Fushimi was probably thinking about it.

Fushimi said it nonchalantly.

"No reason. It's a game, right? I'm just trying to see what happens when I push my score to the limit and if I see something new. I don't think a "sushi party" is the goal, right?"

Nagare narrowed her eyes and answered that question.

"Of course. Our plan starts here."

"Ready, go ahead!"

"I have high hopes for your work. Saruhiko Fushimi, Rank-J, the elite of our "Jungle"."

Everyone present looked at Fushimi.

Expectations, irritations, doubts, curiosity, and various other emotions, Fushimi took for granted. From the moment he took off his blue clothes, he was prepared to be seen with those eyes. Deserter. Traitor. There is no point in trying to remove the labels that have been placed on him. If so, he would make the most of it.

That's why Fushimi smiled fearlessly and said calmly.

"Please, just tell me what to do. I'll show you how to complete any mission. It's much easier than interpersonal relationships."

#k #k project #reisi munakata #scepter 4 #seri awashima #zenjo gouki #k rok #homra #izumo kusanagi #yata misaki #kushina anna #kamamoto rikyo #fushimi saruhiko #jungle #iwafune tenkei #kotosaka #mishakuji yukari #nagare hisui #sukuna gojo

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awriternamedart · 1 year ago

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infodump on gepard landaus arm (in akrasia)

(this is outdated now)

hi this just a large infodump on how gepards robotic prosthetic arm works in my sampard fanfic Akrasia copied from discord enjoy

so when i started writing akrasia i was doin research into both gepard and sampos character stories to glean any sort of details i could (this was back in launch patch so there was not much for me to work with) so with gepards arm I tried to base as much of it as possible in canon story

the canon details are -

he got it as a reward after a super intense battle from the arcitects (character story)

it is powered by geomarrow (character story maybe lightcone)

and that is it thanks video game give us nothing

so what i came up with is that gepard lost his arm protecting his men somehow

serval (who was an arcitect at some point i remember reading this im p sure but if not thats my hc) managed to convince the arcitects to use some half tested technology to give gepard his arm back, and was the main designer and engineer behind the prosthetic

the way it works is it uses a unique chunk of blue geomarrow stored in the power base that connects to gepards arm. It uses Gepards body heat and blood as a kickstart fuel source, which reacts with the geomarrow core and causes a chemical reaction that produces a very cold vapor as its excess

using the energy from the chemical reaction , thats how his arm is powered and able to function without a need for a charge

however the cold vapor leaks out and condenses into ice like fragments through a sort of resonation with the original geomarrow core, and that can harm the mechanism so serval designed it in a way that could store the vapor in the bulk of the hand kinda like a battery that gepard can discharge

the arm.is also in three main parts - the machinary, the body, and the plating

the machinery is the bulk of the arm, the connector-convertor where the geomarrow core is held, the actual conversion chamber and discharge in the forearm , and the storage in the palm of the hand

the body is the around it, specially.made metal and screens to moniter, plus emergency creviced where ice can safely grow out of should a malfunction happenthe screens (theres two) show both Gepard vitals and the current conversion rate and status of his arm

the second screen is interactable and gepard can change around some of the rates n stuff for different scenerios

the plating is purely decorative

its the armor on the outside of the body, a mixture of cloth and classic metal armor plating , and its designed to make the arm look more like a gauntlet then an arm

he only wears the plating when hes on duty, but hes not ashamed of having lost his arm its just tiring to answer questions and it makes life a bit simpler, plus his punches land harder with the armor plating

when he first got the implant surgery and the arm itself it was super draining for him, since it took heat and oxygen from his blood to create the reaction that powers the arm in a way his body was not prepared for

it was really high risk and really stressful for the entire testing process , and it took quite a bit of gepards concentration to control it properly since it is integrated into his neural systems

the worst of it sent him into a multiweek coma from exhaustion alone and they nearly gave up on making the arm work but he insisted on it, knowing that if it worked he could go back to the frontlines and go back to his duty

eventually it did obviously work , but he had to train alot for it since his major issue with it was stamina and concentration

but once he mastered it he realized that he could also manipulate the vapor because of its connection to the geomarrow core and its connection to him and from there he figured out how to create "barrier energy" or a shield , by having the vapor basically cling to a persons body and harden into ice on impact, softening the blow or halting it entirely

he also takes it off to sleep because since concentration is a huge part of his control over it, when hes asleep the vapor will leak out and freeze sometimes , he found this out onxe when he fell asleep with it on and woke up to his room being frozen over

the unique thing about the vapor is that the ice it creates is not really "ice' it just looks like it and kinda feels like it though its not freezing cold to touch

its like cold but not ice cold

lukecold f you will

and he can use this ice as either actual barriers and shields, spires that produce the barrier energy mist (ex the spires on his ingame model gauntlet) and also he can use it on offensive but rarely does so because hes not confident in his exact control and hes to worried about it hurting the wrong person

it also doesnt melt it shatters, and then turns into the vapor which then disappates as its mixed in with oxygen and whatever else jarilos atmosphere is made of

but yeah i think thats the bulk of gepards arms lore that i made

#gepard #gepard landau #landau #fanfic #honkai star rail #hsr #fanfiction #akrasia #read akrasia i put far to much energy into it /hj #gepards arm is a prosthetic and i will die on this hill #headcanon #hc #gepo #sampard #to atttact my people

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wr3tched-guts · 14 days ago

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my body !! my body is so pretty !! body positivity rant !! long ass rant, be ready if you plan on opening this.

clouds

one time ! i was on camp. i had stayed up all night, so when fajr came i got up to watch the sunrise. i sat on the bay for hours and watched how the sun rose, changed the sky and the clouds. my eyes were drawn to the clouds, they usually are, but this time i felt a stronger familiarity to them. i watched how they changed from grey, to a purple going into red. i couldn't put my finger on where i had seen that before. i realised after a while i had seen them on my body ! my stretch marks. they went from red to purple when my body was hot, like the clouds were at sunrise, and they were dark in the shade, like the clouds were without the sun. ( the vid cuts cause my phone dies but i promise the clouds went from red to purple. )

i had gotten my stretch marks pretty rapidly. going from nothing to many within the span of 5 months. i wasn't used to seeing them on my body. i was insecure of them. this gave me solace. i found beauty in them, how they mimicked the clouds and carried down the marks of my mother.

hands

i often dislike the way my hands look. how my palms are so large and my fingers so short. i cover them up with gloves shamefully. whenever i think of my hands like that i remember all that they've given to me. how much they've learnt. i can draw, i can weave, i can stitch. they're my creators. hardly under my control. they express. they stim and show my joy. they clench and show my anger. they are my emoters. they allow me to touch, experience. the waxiness of the leaves, the chill of metal, the warmth of a body. they are my connectors. how magical is that.

eyes

this one seems silly. my eyes are stunning, but i do find myself insecure of them sometimes. of how they don't match each other when i smile. which is stupid. no one's eyes are even. mine are barely different. not the point ! when i find myself being an asshole to them i remember how grateful i am for them. for all that i get to see and love ! how much they've given to me. to look into the eyes of another. to see the sunlight flit through the leaves. theres a lot. plus. the stars my eyes catch are pretty damn cool.

pain

as annoying as muscle cramps may be sometimes i genuinely adore them. they serve as a reminder of how hard my body worked. they're developing, healing, growing, and i think that's awesome. same goes for wounds, the pain you feel as your skin weaves itself back together like magic. i think it's beautiful. like my soul and body communicating with each other.

there's a lot more i could write but i'm getting lazy. i love my body. i don't always love me body. in those times i try to remind myself of all i've said here. if you struggle with body issues you should try too !

i don't view my body as my own a lot of the time, it's difficult, especially while being trans, but it is my vessel.

your body is an extension of the nature around you ! the vessel of your soul. cherish it and treat it kindly.

stop comparing your body to others and start comparing it to nature !!

done now <3

#bakr barks

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dietraumerei · 1 year ago

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I wrote a little something about Crowley, Aziraphale, and touch.

Crowley – then

He touched you.

He touched you often, it had to be said. Over the millennia, from time to time, there was the touch of a hand, fingers brushing together. More when you got drunk together and held each other up through the streets, laughing or sobbing or both. His arm had been firm around your waist, that time in Edinburgh.

And when you were a group of the two of you, but before you opened your fool mouth, he touched you so much you got used to it. His hand is square, strong, with thick fingers and well-manicured nails. He is dextrous, very good at close-up magic, and you will literally die before you tell him that. It is warm, when he rests a hand on your chest, or when he takes your hand. You both like holding hands, but you didn't do it very often. Too much of a good thing. But it's nice, when he presses his palm to yours, when his fingers curl around your hands, when he touches your back, or your waist, when you lean into him because you're tipsy.

He touched you. When Beez said the thing, the thing you can't think about too much. His hand squeezed your arm, fast, faster than he usually moves. He touched you, he held you, a little part of you. For all you want to forget those days, for all they're a swirling bit of horror in a life that has been filled with the alleged horrors of hell, you don't want to forget what he did without thinking. When he reached for you, hand on your shoulder, when he said that you were the one he wanted more than anything else, without saying it.

You should have paid attention to that, and not his words, although that is probably not fair to either of you.

Aziraphale – now

He never stopped letting you touch him, and this is the great joy of your life. You went away, and you came back changed irrevocably. You had grown wiser, and he grew wiser too. You broke his heart, and he didn't understand you. Assimilation versus revolution with a side of escape; you both should have recognized what was going on, and you didn't. The war came, and your assimilation failed. The war came, and there was no escape, so you found each other and wrapped one another in wings, and took the hands of humanity. You didn't touch each other then, because your magic, the terrifying power you have together – it needs a connector. You can't just mash two batteries together. But with a conduit, with a willing heart who just needs your help, you can do anything.

And you did, and it was over, and you were back home, both of you. He moved in with you, because you didn't want him to live in his car. (He lived in his car and you never even knew, you never thought to ask, and you try not to self-flagellate but this one hurts.) You started to talk, broken words at first, terrified, but he listened. He has always been at his gentlest with you. You have always, always loved him, just as he is, and you finally told him that. You tell him that every day now and he scowls and rolls his eyes or he cries a little, or he smiles and kisses you – a good kiss, a soft kiss, a kiss that isn't about what you're losing but what you have. You struggle to make words the first time, but repetition is easier for you, so you repeat yourself a lot.

And he lets you touch him. The way you always did, an arm on his chest or his shoulder, because you love touching him. You hold hands together all the time now, you're obnoxious about it, but it feels so good to move through the world together with your hand in his, his hand in yours. You dance together at night, sometimes, a song on the gramophone. He's very natural, in your arms.

He touches you, of course. A hand at the small of your back, guiding, a protection from London crowds, is your favourite thing. And the kisses, that's touching, when he holds you very gently and kisses you, again and again. Sometimes, then, you touch his hair or his neck, but you like to span your hands on his back the best. That's what you did, the first time he kissed you. It was awful, but it was still your first kiss, and you feel a certain fondness.

You touch him whenever you can, because he's your home, and you're his. Like Beez and Gabriel, but unlike, because you didn't run off together. You couldn't. You didn't have a love story that easy, and, selfishly, you think that that burnishing maybe makes you stronger. You love him so much, and it's a scarred and broken love, but a very strong love. For, after all, you've saved the world – well, helped save the world – twice now. And you still love to touch him, and he leans into you, and it's good. It's good.

#good omens #good omens fic #ficlet

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justsomeguycore · 2 years ago

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i’m not going to be nice to get along anymore. i don’t care if i offend you snowflake. i think any appliance that you can operate via bluetooth or your phone or requires wifi to work is stupid. i don’t think you need a computer in your fridge or your doorbell or your washing machine or your dishwasher. i don’t think the lights of your house should be accessible from your cell phone. i think you should have to put a physical key in a physical ignition switch to start your car. i don’t think touch screens should be on or in any of these things either. i believe in switches and buttons and levers. i miss my palm pre which was the last cell phone i had that still had physical keys. i hate mall security robots and i hate table service robots and i hate seeing tablets and phones in the hands of anyone under 10. i hate proprietary cable connectors and i hate the removal of headphone jacks from devices. i hate bluetooth earbuds and i hate VR headsets and i hate everything.

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sombrashe · 8 months ago

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not edited | first time writing a full blown blowjob scene, hope you get as much out of it as i did writing it

#divider by cafekitsune #call of duty #fear the walking dead #fear the walking dead smut #troy otto #troy otto smut #troy otto x reader #troy otto x reader smut #serena writes

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fireteam-silentstrike · 7 months ago

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@fireteamepic and I's chapter about Ester's first brain connection with Bandit, set during season of arrivals.

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

Ester watched Bandit closely as she slowly lowered the device onto her head. Bandit flinched as soon as it made contact, Ester withdrew her hands quickly. She held them palm up so that Bandit could see them.

“Okay?” Ester asked, trying to not let nerves show.

Bandit gave a small nod, her eyes darting away and back again, as if looking at Ester was overwhelming. She settled on some point on the floor, keen and unfocused all at once. Ester felt a pang in her chest: even seated, the hunter seemed ever-ready to bolt. Knees tensed, shoulders raised, knuckles flexed on the edge of her chair. They'd picked some old Braytech conference room for this. The irony didn't escape her.

“I’m going to start plugging in the connectors.” Ester put on the best comforting tone as she could. She reached back into Bandit’s space and grabbed the frontal lobe connector. “I’ve been told this doesn’t hurt much.”

Bandit looked at her again, eyes going wide with fear. Ester felt a painful knot twist in her stomach, wrong thing to say she thought to herself. She lifted her free hand to Bandit’s forehead, flipping open a tiny plate to reveal the port. Bandit flinched hard, fully turning away from the warlock. Her throat made some involuntary squeak, her hands going up instinctively to shield her face before, self-consciously, lowering them again. Ester felt bile rise in her throat, fighting the urge to throw up.

What could have happened to have her react this way?

Bandit turned back toward her, still afraid and shaking. Her eyes flashed wildly, noseplate tightening up to her brow as her jaw clenched so hard it began to grind. "What are you waiting for?" she forced out, losing any bravado the words were meant to summon as her voice crackled with a familiar panic. She reminded her too much of Mute, sometimes, she thought, fighting back a grimace.

Ester deeply regretted taking her helmet off for this, taking a few shaking breaths to calm her own nerves. This must be done, for everyone's sake. She slid the connector in with a click.

“This is difficult for you, I understand that.” Ester’s tone was flat, devoid of any emotion. “You must hold still or else you risk damage.” Bandit flinched at those words, making a face almost like a snarl. Ester shoved all of her roiling emotions away, reverting to the cold and calculating demeanor she used to hold.

Ester grabbed the next connector, “turn your head,” more of a command than a request. Bandit held her snarl as she turned her head to the left. Ester brought her hand up once more, quickly finding the port and connecting the plug before Bandit could jerk away. Bandit yelped. “Now to the other side.” Ester repeated the action, Bandit yelped and flinched.

“Now look down.” Ester said firmly. Bandit lost hold of her snarl for a brief moment. Ester felt her stomach churn but did her best to ignore it, this must be done. “This will go quicker if you cooperate.” Bandit averted her eyes and grimaced before looking to her feet. As Ester’s hand came to touch the crown of her head, Bandit twitched and began to shake. Ester took a deep breath, finding the parietal and occipital ports and plugging into them with quick succession. Bandit flinched at each one.

Ester gave a sigh and stood up. “Calm yourself.” She said as she walked around behind Bandit. “You will have to hold still for this one. It connects to your brain stem, any damage will have grave consequences.” She warned as she came to a stop and looked down to find Bandit gazing up at her with dim, unfocused eyes. Her jaw and shoulders had gone slack, and she swayed slightly, a low, constant whine emitting from the back of her throat. It was as if each port drained the fight from her a bit more, leaving this small and empty thing where she’d sat.

“I know we are both guardians but I don’t want to risk any possible lasting negative effects.” She crouched down to become eye level with the brain stem port. “I need you to hold still and focus.”

Bandit seemed to shake herself awake, a near-growl bursting from her chest as she slapped her leg, seeming angry. With the situation, or with herself? “Okay,” she mumbled, her voice barely audible. “Okay.” She reached down to the knife sheath at her hip, yanking the blade free with a metallic hiss that stung the air. It flashed red in the dull glow of Martian sunlight that filtered through the dust-stained window. Bandit rested the blade across her palm before curling her fingers around its edge.

“Now I can’t flinch,” she explained, the sentence coming out slow and clipped. Her voice was even-toned now - distant. It sounded not unlike Ester's own.

It was Ester's turn to look wide eyed with fear before she regained control of her face. She let out a shaky breath and returned to her seat, hoping that Bandit didn’t notice.

“You’re being very brave.” She spoke quietly as she took the final connector and took Bandit’s face by the chin, gently guiding her to look up and to the side to reveal the regular connector port on the right side of her neck. This time, she felt the young hunter's jaw clench, but then - maybe she imagined it - felt her barely relax into the touch, her head growing heavier against her thumb by that small fraction as the low whine kicked up from her throat again. “I realize I may seem… cold, but I do appreciate you trusting me to do this.” Ester let herself relax, a slight tremble in her hands as she pulled away from Bandit. She grabbed the receiver end of the device and placed it onto her head, aligning the single plug to the neural implant at the back of her head. The world around her began to grow blurry.

“Try and relax as much as you can.” Ester said firmly. “Hold still.” Ester brought her hands up to cradle both sides of Bandit’s face. Eyes so full of fear met her own, shattering the composure Ester had tried so hard to maintain through this ordeal.

She tried to speak, tried to say something - anything - that could comfort Bandit but her voice failed her. The world was growing more blurry, the sensation of her stealth armor against her skin became a dull barely there tingle. Everything grew distant and muted except for Bandit trembling in front of her. Full of terror but still somehow having the trust to allow Ester to hold her head between her hands.

Ester felt a sensation she could only describe as those glowing orange eyes cutting into her. Sharp and pleading right into her very soul. The world finally began to twist and bend as the mind link was established. She felt her consciousness float up and away from her body. As she drifted skyward she realized for the first time just how small Bandit really was.

The world was now a wash of orange.

Orange.

Orange, red, yellow.

A sunset.

The memory of a sunset. Not her own memory but one she had seen before.

A campsite, a pot of stew boiling over an open fire and a single tent with two helmets set beside it. The person the memory belonged to walked over to the tent and opened the flap. They paused and Ester felt a sense of shock, dulled from it not being her own memory. There in the tent lay a tiny hunter, battered and frail from some unknown incident. The person leaned in closer, allowing a beam of sunlight in, illuminating the hunter’s face.

“This is Mute’s memory.” She said aloud as the realization hit her. He had shown it to her years ago, back when she would have brushed it off as unimportant. The memory began to dissolve around her. “Wait!” She lunged toward the sleeping Bandit, desperate to get another look. She found herself on her knees and she cursed her past self for being so callous.

The world around her still glowed a strange yellow-green color. She looked up and slowly brought herself back to her feet. The air around her was heavy, blotted with a dreamlike haze that obscured her surroundings like thick fog in the pre-dawn light. Vex architecture punctuated the gloom with unforgiving angles, hanging down from someplace high above her. Ester blinked, and they seemed to crowd closer, tangled branches that reached and clawed their way towards her. Like trees in an inverted forest, she thought. If she squinted, she could see the fractal patterns of light they cast, could see how they almost looked like stars, or like… eyes.

She shook her head. These were Bandit's thoughts, not hers. She had to stay focused, had to find Bandit's own manifestation before she lost the line between them. The towers seemed to recede back into the sky, and she took a steadying breath.

“Bandit!” She cupped her hands around her mouth to shout. “Bandit?”

At first, there was no response. Then, slowly, she began to hear something - a faint sound, hovering maddeningly just at the edge of her auditory range. At first, it sounded like a whisper. She turned her head sharply, and the sound peaked briefly, then retreated. She let out a frustrated sigh, and forced herself to close her eyes. She was able to pick out the taunting threads of a melody, distant yet seemingly all around her at once. Some pre-Golden Age composition?

“Bandit!” Calling once more, the world around her shimmered in response to her presence. Ester reached out with her own consciousness, trying to feel for where Bandit might be. “Bandit, where are you?” A sudden crack and boom sounded above her. She whirled around as a second bolt of lightning struck the towering structure behind her. Some rubble fell loose, she was quick to dodge. She took a moment to look at it, dark and angular with what looked like red detailing. She picked up a small piece and felt a chill run down her spine. It reminded her of the sleeper simulant; she turned it over to see Rasputin’s symbol staring back at her. The music boomed overhead, causing her to jump and drop the rubble.

“Ballet.” She said aloud as she realized she did recognize the song. She remembered being in a Warmind vault on Mars and then the same ghastly music played when safety measures were triggered. She had been separated from Howard in the resulting chaos and even though she had him back, the feeling of complete loss of control was a searing burn in her mind.

Ester's vision swam as the music swelled to a roar - throbbing, pulsing noise. Her ears rang from it, a thunderclap of sudden silence sending her staggering from the vertigo. She felt the vibrations lance up her legs, seize her own heart in its rhythm. No, no, how can this be happening? She felt her own lungs stutter and stop in her ribs, felt the implosive force of vacuum as Rasputin's symbol flooded her vision with red…

Then, nothing. The impossible sound dropped from existence, and the world around her seemed to shudder as the Vex domain struggled to reassert itself. Several of the towers seemed to be entirely missing - the rubble, too, was gone.

Ester shook herself, a hand straying up to instinctively push her hair back from her face. What was going on? Mute's mind had always been strange, but this felt… different. The cold clamp of dread in her spine, the lack of control…

It was the feeling of being on a battlefield, she realized. It felt as though Bandit's mind was fighting… something. Not her, she thought. But here she was, caught in the crossfire.

Her gaze strayed across the increasing incoherence around her, and noticed something that had been hidden behind one of the vanished towers. A giant, haphazard form of metal, tangled limbs splayed across the ground, single eye dulled. Her eyes widened. A Gate Lord. Inactive, or…

What is that doing here? she thought as fear twisted her gut. Then, realizing the small form curled up, asleep - she hoped, she hoped she was just asleep - against one leg of the Vex, she cried out in alarm. "Bandit!"

Ester did the closest approximation of a run as she could. The air around her felt like it was pushing back, as if it became more viscous in response to her intrusion into Bandit’s mind. She was then on her knees, hesitant to touch at first but felt some of her anxiety subside when she saw that Bandit wasn’t visibly injured.

“Bandit.” She shook the small hunter’s arm.

Bandit stirred, groaning as she sleepily shook off Ester’s unwanted touch. Had Ester done this in the waking world, Bandit would have been alert and fighting-ready in an instant. Here, she seemed sluggish, confused. It took several achingly long seconds for Bandit to open her eyes, and several more for her to drag her gaze towards the interloper, to focus on her face.

“Whuh…” she mumbled. Her speech was thick and slurred. She seemed almost like a child, attempting to rouse herself from deep sleep. “You are…” She brought a hand up to slap clumsily against the dome of her forehead. “...Ester.”

“Yes, and we need to get moving. Get up. Come on.” She chanced a stronger grip on Bandit’s arm, and to her surprise, she allowed it. But those bright orange eyes locked onto her own, searching. Ester realized she could hear the melody again - thin, but steady. It seemed to strengthen Bandit, somehow, making her feel more solid, more real beneath her fingertips. Suddenly, it felt like Ester was the one left grasping for safety.

Bandit’s eyes grew more urgent. “You can’t be here,” she said simply. “It’s bad here. It hurts. It’ll hurt you.”

“I can assure you I can hold my own inside an Exo’s mind. Try deep linking with Mute sometime if you want a real workout.” Ester tried to sound comforting but the expression on Bandit’s face proved otherwise. “Erm. Not that you are… simple… you would just have to see how… warped his mind is.” Another beat as Bandit now seemed to be visibly cringing. “Not that having a warped mind is a bad thing! Its-“

A sudden cacophony behind Ester made her jump and knock into Bandit. They both clung to each other to steady themselves and looked at the source of the noise. What looked like a projection played out before them, filling Ester’s field of vision with a scene of the Tower, through someone else’s eyes. Wild screaming, flashes of people running. Lord Shaxx giving a speech, words loud but indistinct. The nauseating closeness of emergency lights, dull red and clouded in smoke. And then the person is running, gun in hand. Their movements are frantic, untrained. They look skyward, and Ester gets a view of the Traveler covered in Ghaul’s Light-stealing machine. She remembers that day so achingly clear, yet through the eyes of another, it feels almost alien. They flee from Cabal that seem to tower over them, fear-blind and scrambling, firing off wild shots. Their flight takes them to an open street, where they stand, frozen. They hear a man shouting, and look wildly in his direction. An Exo titan in parade regalia stands in an alleyway. He motions frantically to the person as if begging them to come towards him.

“Is that…” The dark metal with white markings looked very similar to Jameson. Before Ester could get a closer look, however, a loud roar filled her ears. She jumped back, watching wide-eyed as a Cabal drop pod plummeted from above. The person only had an instant to look up, to see the fireball racing towards them. The cobblestone street gave way beneath them, an eruption of rubble and ash, and in the next instant, the projection went black.

“I’m amazed you made it through the Red War.” Ester mused, turning to see Bandit sitting on the floor with her knees held tight to her chest.

“I almost didn’t.” Bandit said quietly. “I didn’t know what I was doing. I was… I was scared. And stupid. If Iota hadn’t found me, I… they… They fixed me.” She rubbed at her wrist, as if in memory of some wound. “I didn’t want them to leave me, and I couldn’t bear to… owe them like that. You know what that’s like? The way people look at you…” It was more than Ester had ever heard Bandit say at once. She was unguarded, vulnerable. At least that meant Bandit wouldn’t fight her as she prodded deeper.

Hopefully.

“Our connections to other people is our strength.” Ester offered her hand to help Bandit up.

Bandit gaped at her for a moment, her mouth working around words that she couldn't seem to speak. She snapped her mouth closed with an audible click and stood, the swift movement sweeping her into Ester's space. "Come on," she said, already spinning on her heel and striding away.

The world around them seemed to shift in random, unpredictable patterns as Bandit walked, Bandit either not noticing or not acknowledging the change. Vex-etched stone seemed to shimmer and reshape into fossilized fragments of shell and bone. Ester shook her head and found them hiking up the rolling red dunes of Mars, her calves burning. The sky rippled like a sheer curtain on a thin exhale of wind. She felt the air grow dense and dreamlike around her again, and in the next ripple, she almost thought she saw Mars as it had been - before the Collapse. But then the haze cleared, and it was gone. They were in a hallway now, the Braytech logo emblazoned on the walls and floors.

Still Bandit walked, saying nothing. Her shoulders were tense, head thrust forward determinedly, fists swinging at her sides. Though she was smaller than Ester, she kept a punishing pace. They continued down the long corridor in silence, a low hum steadily growing stronger.

“Here.” Bandit stopped suddenly. A projection began to play on the wall to the left of them. Ester reached out her hand and touched it, feeling a slight jolt as she connected to the sensations held within the memory.

Bandit is standing inside of a Warmind bunker, peering down a hall of server banks. She creeps around a corner, her eyes darting across shadows. Ester could feel the memory of Iota's training taut in her muscles, each movement a mimic of him. She doesn't feel at home with it, but she is… skilled. Satisfied, Bandit sags against a server bank, sighing in relief.

“You are very quick.” A voice sounds behind her; she jumps and turns to see Ester standing about six feet away from her. Her skin begins to prickle, the sense of something crawling down her neck, knotting at the base of her throat. Ester's eyes staring at her, searching her for something.

"Stop that," Bandit says, voice low in her throat. Her body tenses, and she springs into the air, fingers scrabbling for purchase against the top of a server bank, feet kicking against air for an instant before she finds stability, hauls herself up. This, now, feels right, and Ester could feel her nervous exhilaration through the memory. Bandit bounds across server banks, her feet light. She feels the bunker react to her, the hum of old systems kicking to life.

“Fascinating.” Bandit hears Ester say as she kicks off the final platform and takes a flight of stairs running. She snarls, tries to shake the word out of her head, and ends up tumbling down the final steps. She cries out; tucks her chin to her chest; rolls with the momentum. When she comes to a stop, she hears music. It clamps down on the base of her neck. When she looks above her, all the screens light up. They look like eyes.

Ester’s eyes, too, look down at her.

“The system seems to be responding to your presence.” Ester sounds gleeful. “You have truly been one surprise after another. So much to study in so little time.” She steps past Bandit to look at one of the screens, tapping it a few times until a command console unfolds from a nearby wall.

Bandit manages to roll herself to a sitting position. She must have hit her head in the fall - Ester could feel the dizziness, the dull, throbbing ache. Or was that… the music? How could Ester have missed that? Bandit puts her head between her knees, pounding at it with the heel of her palm as Mute comes walking from behind a bank of servers.

“There you are.” He signs, and then he squats to get closer to Bandit’s current level. “You doing okay?”

Bandit hesitates for a long moment before nodding. Her eyes track Ester's movements warily. "Just… don't like feeling watched," she signs back.

Mute stood back up. “Ester.” More of a squelch than a word.

“Remind me to recalibrate your helmet later.” Ester heard herself say.

Ester stepped back from the memory, arm still outstretched. She stared at the memory projection, not processing it as it continued. She remembered that moment from her own perspective so clearly. She thought that would be the highest compliment you could get from her, but now having felt what Bandit felt her flesh crawled.

“I…. I-“ Ester took a ragged breath and looked at her hand for a moment. “I didn’t think… I hadn’t considered…” She turned and looked at Bandit. The hunter's eyes slid from hers, her arms crossed over her chest, the lights in her face flaring with shame.

"The way people- the way you look at me," she manages to croak out. "I don't… I feel like… a thing, sometimes." She shrugs, as if trying to shake off a heavy weight. "It's fine. I don't know. You need something useful from me, right?"

“Bandit…” Ester began to reach her hand out to Bandit but stopped midway, sensing it would be the incorrect thing to do. “I don’t think I can convey myself with words. I realize any attempt I make grievously misses the mark. You are very far from just being a thing.” She took one step closer to Bandit, gauging her for a negative reaction. “While yes, you do contain useful information, that isn’t exactly the reason I am in here with you now. Something is clearly wrong, something you can’t quite place, and I want to help you.”

Bandit startled at that, her eyes wide as they snapped back to stare at her. That look of hers lanced through her each time - this ever-watchful war-child. Every Guardian she'd ever met had been forged by battle, true, but Bandit seemed to carry it marrow-deep, chaos wrought in every nerve. Instead of recoiling again, though, Ester watched her breath quicken, her noseplate wrinkle - and realized she was holding back tears. Finally, she nodded. "Okay," she whispered. "Okay."

“I know I am tight-lipped but I have good reason to be.” She stepped closer to Bandit once more. “Mute is now able to hear his old name without encrypting, but I don’t know if other information will or not.” She lifted her hand once again. “And I don’t know if the same might happen to you. You’ve been on the verge of something during this whole ordeal, I’ve managed to stop Mute’s encrypting before. Maybe I can do the same for you.”

Bandit watched her movements, but didn't widen the space between them. "If… If that happens…" She didn't seem able to finish the thought, instead letting it hang between them.

“I won’t let that happen.” She touched Bandit’s shoulder.

"Promise?" Bandit asked weakly, and the question was so big, she almost seemed to flinch from saying it. Promise I can trust you?

“I promise.”

It wasn’t trust in her voice, but it was a good enough start. Bandit turned and walked away, her footsteps hesitant but steady.

“Where are you going?”

“I don’t know,” Bandit said. “This is the only thing I can think of. He…”

The world rippled again, and they were on a catwalk, the room around them vanishing into void. Ester swayed from vertigo as she tried to right her vestibular system, when up ahead, she watched Bandit stumble.

“Bandit?” she asked, rushing forward when Bandit sank to one knee, one arm draped over the railing for support while her other hand flew to clutch at her head, as if in pain. Ester rushed forward, instinctively gripping her beneath the shoulder as if to pull her up.

“Don’t…” Bandit mumbled, almost as if speaking to herself. Her head raised to stare at something ahead of them, mouth hanging slack from pain. “I have to… please.”

Ester followed Bandit’s gaze and shuddered. The world became a wash of orange light once more, cast now by the giant wireframe ball of light hanging above them.

Rasputin.

He bellowed something, and Ester felt her stomach twist as Bandit recoiled. Small, fragmented memory projections exploded around them, but these were… different. Incomplete. In them, everything seemed to match that wireframe image they’d found in the bunkers. Of Felwinter. The images shuddered and jerked as if they were puppets on a string. She heard Bandit strain to speak, felt her struggle to push herself forward, closer to the Warmind.

One memory floated past them, and even through the strange distortions, Ester recognized Bandit’s small form, a Valkyrie in hand. It came just close enough for her to touch, hovering, taunting. She reached out for it, extending her pointer finger to make contact. She saw a brief flash of orange once more before a sharp pain drew her out of the memory, realizing the orange was sparks coming off of the memory. Almost like a Warmind cell

“Ow,” she shook her hand and glared at the memory. “Hhhhmmph.” She brought her hand back up and open-palm slapped the memory. She felt a strong jolt as she connected to the sensations stored within.

Bandit stood on a high platform, trembling, Valkyrie held at her side in a tight fist. She hollered something Ester couldn't make out as all around her, the all-seeing lights of innumerable dormant Warsats sprung to life. Ester felt a ravenous seething rage come alive inside her, racing down her arms like a forest fire. It was Bandit's rage, her grief, but swept up in the undertow of something impossibly huge. A surge of noise and light and emotion overwhelmed her, deafened her… Was this Bandit's link to Rasputin?

And then a bolt of orange energy struck just beside her, the shockwave strong enough to knock her off her feet and send her tumbling off of the platform. As she fell, more bolts of energy flashed all around her, and Ester realized the platform had been the top of a very tall tower.

The memory severed abruptly as Rasputin bellowed something that sounded like a command. Bandit was pulling herself towards the furious orange glow on her hands and knees, and as Rasputin repeated the same command, she seemed to respond in the same language, pleading with him in Russian before collapsing with a wail that quickly cut off into wracking sobs.

“Okay, we are leaving,” Ester said flatly as another memory shard whizzed by a little too close to her head. She crouched down to where Bandit lay on the floor and hooked her arms under the hunter’s armpits and lifted. At first Bandit struggled, flailing weakly, but she relaxed once she realized it was Ester. “We’ll come back here another day.” She slung Bandit over her left shoulder and marched back the way they came.

Slowly, Bandit's wracking sobs quieted, her body going limp against Ester's chest. The angry red glow of the world began to throb and dull as the catwalk fell away, and they were once again in the inverted landscape of the Vex forest. Bandit whimpered quietly into Ester's shoulder, Ester's heart clutched at the feeling of the small hunter nuzzling her face into her neck before allowing her to slide off onto the floor.

Bandit made a noise in the back of her throat, a ripple of half-formed words.

“What was that?” Ester asked. Bandit shook herself, holding her head between hands and hunched shoulders, eyes caged behind splayed fingers.

“Get up,” Ester said. Control was a thin, tattered veil over the edge of concern in her voice, but she knew how to turn that edge. Give it a command of its own. Mute listened to it; Bandit would, too. “Keep moving. We don’t have time to waste.”

Bandit staggered to her feet, her legs shaky, gaze unsteady. The look of a floundering swimmer writ in the tight lines of her face. Wide eyes, gaping mouth. She mumbled something again, lips working themselves around the words as though they were the last gulp of air before she went under. She staggered again, swallowed around the words as she spoke them. Her head swung from side to side. Her hands groped, knuckles crackling as she reached for something unseen out in front of her. She took a step forward. She staggered and spoke. Stepped forward. Staggered. Spoke. The words thick and blurred, desperate and reverent.The sounds of a holy chant.

“Oooookay.” Ester stepped closer to Bandit. “I’ll just pick you back up then.”

Bandit let out a shuddering groan, flinching away from Ester’s outstretched hand. When she looked back, her eyes had… changed. Orange gave way to a darker scarlet, the fractal patterns in her gaze all too familiar. The hunter’s head lolled to one side, then the other, and Ester watched as pale, twining ivy and lichen burst, newborn and ravenous, from her cracking fingertips, crawling up her arm, across her neck, down her spine. It corroded what it touched, Bandit’s armor quickly turning to foul, tarnished copper. She lunged - screamed - and the scream was a many-voiced thing: Rasputin’s harsh bellow, the high shriek of a Harpy, and beneath it all, Bandit - Bandit in pain, Bandit crying, Bandit reaching out with hands that were no longer her own, twisted and broken in claw-like approximation of Vex limbs. Her neck snapped, sickeningly, and when she looked back to Ester once more, her face had been reformed to bear a single, red Vex eye.

Ester screamed, but stood rooted in the fixed gaze of the thing that should have been Bandit, frozen by dumb animal instinct. The empty vessel of so many impossible machine gods before her shook, and sobbed, and still it chanted its obscene hymn, clutching at its face and rocking in wide, crazed circles.

"No, no, no, no, no," Ester pleaded, the word becoming a chant of its own in her mouth. "No, no, no, NO!" She surged forward, collapsing to her knees, wrapping the thing that should-but-could-not-be Bandit tightly in her arms. She felt it struggle, felt its festering song thrum against her chest. This Vex-thing, this… perversion, held in her arms like a child.

Then, in her ear, a voice that was distinctly Bandit's: "Please…"

And the body of the thing that had to be Bandit convulsed in her arms, the song growing louder now, the song woven all around them, all nonsense and rhyme, and Ester rocked the thing in her arms, pleading with it.

"Bandit," she cried. "Bandit, please, I don't…" She choked on the words. "I don't know what to do! I don't know what to do! I missed something, I don't know what I missed and I can't stop this please I'm sorry I'm so sorry I can't… You can't do this! This isn't supposed to happen, don't you understand? You're not supposed to encrypt! This isn't possible, this shouldn't be possible, I can't… Fuck!"

A sudden bright flash of light caused Ester to look to her right. A brilliant orb pulsed, its surface roiling like plasma from a star with fractal shards shooting off in random directions. Ester could see images of the Vex within; she looked at the Vex-Bandit thing and then back to the orb.

“We have to try.” She steeled herself as she stood and hooked her arms under the Vex thing’s arms and pulled with all her might. She howled with effort as she managed to tug Bandit inch by inch towards the orb. It was like trying to haul a Red Legion Gladiator up a mountain as the music rose to a deafening pitch.

Ester reached out to the orb once she was close enough, fingertips grazing the surface. She heard whispers in languages she did and did not recognize. She pulled back and pulled Bandit a few steps closer and then plunged her whole hand below the shining orange surface. The smell of ozone and iron, the sensation of falling and a devastating impact, someone coughing and gasping as if their lungs didn’t work. Vivid and disjointed all at once while only being half connected to the memory within. She then felt it push back against her, ejecting her hand with what looked like a large wisp of plasma.

“Bandit!” Ester cried over the noise, “I need your help, take my hand!” She desperately hoped Bandit understood her. Below her, the profane creature had curled in on itself, arms hugged to its chest, a single Vex leg kicking, sporadically, as ivy climbed over the wreckage of its body, a perfectly ruined circle of pain slowly being dragged back into the earth-

And then its single, red eye raised to look at her, to see her through the fog of its torment, and Ester realized that Bandit was not the thing in the shape of a Vex, but was some shred of self wearing its skin like a prison-shrine, and the body of the Vex-thing clambered forward, shattered fingers reaching, grasping for hers as both Bandit and Vex let out a wail-

And she took Bandit's hand and plunged forward, the boiling surface of memory subsuming her.

You will know yourself as the seams of you fracture and tear.

Ester rises, thrashing, through the blinding bloom of refracted light. Her lungs strain and heave as something that is not air floods her, colonizes her, its dominion of her body complete and entire. She tastes copper, tastes blood, tastes ruin. She is drowning (please please please) as hands hold her down, hands that grasp at her from below, from above, and she can almost make out a face…

You will make offering of your flesh to the tides of time.

She rises, crawling (let me go), dragging the wreckage of herself behind her, shattered limbs and weeping wounds. Upwards, ever upwards (please let me go), no rest never any rest the corridors twist and twist and twist a fractured spine of stairs…

You will kneel at the altar of your divinity.

She RISES, borne up by the light (there is no light there is no light) as she splinters - scatters - screaming - as all around her the seething, swarming mass of all that she has been or will ever be cocoons her in their many reaching limbs (it hurts), sings to her in choirs of voices that sound just like her own.

You will bear witness to the miracle of your being.

She drowns, she drowns, she DROWNS she drowns she-

-She felt a hand claw weakly at her arm, metal fingers dragging down skin as Bandit tried to free herself, sobbing weakly (it hurts so much). Her face was her own, but battered and ravaged - her forehead wept from an open wound as if it had been bashed against something, and her jaw didn’t hang right.

“Ester please, please, it hurts, pleaseithurts, pleaseletmego pleaseletmego you’re hurting me you’re HURTING me please-”

At that Ester let go of Bandit’s hand, hoping that would disconnect her from the memory. Ester felt the pull of gravity suck her arm further into the memory. Again she heard the sound of someone coughing and gasping for air. Then her shoulder, and then her head fell into the orb, the pull inescapable. She yelled with effort as she tried to leverage herself out with her other arm. The surface gave way suddenly, dragging Ester in up to her waist. She gasped alongside the chorus around her, the pull ripping the very air from her lungs. She saw a hazy figure above the water, covered in jagged pyramidal armor.

“Do not fight, it will be okay.” She heard a distant voice that sounded so very familiar. “I have control now, I will keep you safe. Give yourself to the Deep.”

Ester felt hands close around her ankles and a sharp tug that followed. She draws what strength she can, fighting to find purchase on the figure’s arms.

“No!” Ester screamed, pushing against the figure as she felt her legs get tugged once again. The water suddenly crystallizes around her, all sound and sensation stops for a brief second. Then an enormous pressure wave shatters the memory orb, the shockwave sending Bandit and Ester flying. Ester watched as the orb reformed itself as they flew further and further away. She feels her back slam into something hard and then the sound of glass shattering as the world went dark.

Ester stood up first, walking a few paces and then lifting her hand. She reached forward and felt an invisible wall stop her hand. The barrier. She turned around and saw a shard of the fractalized memory orb lying not far from Bandit. Ester walked over to and stood over the small hunter.

“Bandit, wake up.” She nudged Bandit’s shoulder with her foot.

“Whu…” Bandit slowly sits up, looking around at the white void that stretched before her.

“Here.” Ester offers her hand and hauls Bandit to her feet. “This way.” She chooses a random direction, looking at Bandit until she sees her follow her. “We simply need to travel farther ‘inward’ and things will start to become apparent.”

Long angular shadows began to appear, cutting and shaping the void around them as they walked. The open expanse narrowed into a tunnel like hallway, foot steps echoing as the shadows shift. The hallway began to widen, ceiling sweeping high above their heads as they crossed a threshold, shadows solidifying in place.

They both took in their new surroundings, stark white high vaulted ceilings and long corridors that faded into shadow. A hospital lobby. The aura of sterility was almost oppressive as Ester motioned for Bandit to follow her down one of the long hallways.

“Do you remember anything from the golden age?” Ester asked softly, dread beginning to build.

“I was… sick? Maybe?” Bandit screwed up her face, trying to summon something, anything, to mind. As she did, there was a brief telescoping of detail, as if the air around them was taking form, solidifying into something they could touch, something they could walk on. The shadows grew starker; the fluorescent lights began to buzz and whine. Bandit let out a soft gasp, and the world snapped back to bleak, solid white.

"There's one word. I don't… know what it means. I guess I was scared to find out. But it's been in my head, ever since…"

Ester tensed, already knowing what it would be. "What is it?"

"Cancer."

As she spoke the word, a fluorescent light hummed to life over a wide, semi-circular desk. Atop it sat a computer, marked by life and memory, its screen covered in dust and its console scratched and worn. Ester stared at it, her stomach churning with anxiety, apprehension. But the pull was undeniable, and she found herself drawn, step by inexorable step, towards it. The computer screen glowed brighter the closer Ester got to it. She reached out and touched it with her finger tips. A login screen flashed in her field of vision. Ester's fingers flitted over the keys, trying any password that sprang to her mind. Rasputin. Warmind. Ivey. Blade. Hale. Finally, she got one that passed.

Dahlia.

The Golden Age. Ester knows it first by the healthy shimmer in the air, the green-gold autumn leaves lining paved boulevards. The fresh smell of cool air against her face, the freedom of movement. She watches a young human girl - perhaps sixteen, seventeen? - coast lazily on her bicycle. Without a helmet, her choppy brown hair flies wild, strands plastered against her forehead. She wears a backpack, old and beaten, but clearly packed with meticulous care.

And then the girl is standing against the wall of an office, arms crossed, head tilted back slightly. She is pale, clammy, and Ester can now see the deep shadows worn beneath her eyes. Her bright green eyes flit dimly across the room - the lifeless gray of the cubicle partitions, the humming of the fluorescent lights. The framed employee of the month - a young woman named Dahlia Locklear. A phone rings, and she flinches, closing her eyes.

"Ivey!" a sharp voice calls out, and the girl's eyes snap open. Ester feels her heart clench at the name - worn into her mind from months of poring through Braytech files. Ivey Locklear - selected for entry into Rasputin's Blade.

"Mom-" Ivey half-mumbles, but she's cut off. The woman storming towards her is the same as the face on the employee of the month photo, but Ester can now recognize the tired lines on her face, the weariness at the corners of her eyes that the tight smile could only barely cover.

"What are you doing here? Why aren't you at school?" the woman - Dahlia, then - snaps.

"I couldn't… I don't… feel good."

"Well, then, you should have gone home. Did you forget your key again? You need to-"

"It's… worse. Mom, I…"

She's cut off by another voice, fragmented and indistinct. Ester strains to hear it, but the words slip away from her - water through her fingers. She sees her mother talking to another woman, her features hazy and blurred. Straight-backed and shorter than Dahlia, hands folded behind her… but of her face, Ester could make out only a pale, shimmery outline.

"Mom," Ivey calls out again, a strange hitch in her throat. Dahlia turns, sighs.

“I gotta run, talk to you tomorrow?”

“Yes. I’ll be here,” the other woman says in a chopped tone. It's familiar, that voice, Ester thinks. She can't place it, but it hovers there, at the edge of her hearing, a ghost of a memory long forgotten.

Ivey's head jerks - once. Her eyes roll back, eyelids fluttering - Ester can see bloodshot whites, can hear her teeth clack together. Her face goes slack. She sees these things all at once as time slows, an instant drawn out and stretched to its breaking point. Ivey is falling, falling…

Falling…

As Ivey falls to the floor the other woman’s face finally becomes clear. Ester sees her own face staring on in horror as Ivey hits the ground. Ester feels a violent jolt run down her spine as her own memory from the Golden Age played in tandem. She rushes over to Dahlia’s side, shock coursing through her veins. It burns, it burns all over her body. She wants to disconnect from the memory but she’s frozen, the agony mounting to an unimaginable level.

Pain, hot searing pain. She hears Bandit scream in the distance. Then it came closer and closer, the doppler effect raising the pitch until Ester felt like she was the one screaming. She felt a sensation like someone had sliced into her brain, the image of Dahlia and herself exploding into thousands of tiny fragments. She opened her eyes to see Bandit holding the prefrontal cortex connector. She then registered that Bandit was screaming… no, not just Bandit, they were both screaming.

Ester watched as Bandit’s head jerked back with a violent, sickening snap, then lolled limply forward. For a moment, she was still, silent. Then she stood. It was as if her bones couldn’t quite recall how to move, as if she were being pulled up on marionette strings. One hand twitched; one foot stutter-stepped forward. Ester heard her mutter something in that strange Vex tongue again.

"Bandit," Ester called out - hoarsely, her tongue thick in her mouth. She stared, feeling helplessly adrift in the tides of this catastrophe she'd wrought. Bandit did not turn around, did not move except to sway, slightly, mechanically, from side to side. Ester's fingers fumbled at the wires now dangling from her neural implant, throwing the assembly to the ground as if it burned her. Then she was lurching towards the small hunter, gripping her by the arm and spinning her around. She shouted, called out to her, orders and instructions she could barely hear herself make. There was a roar in her ears, a colossal wave of terror surging through her blood as she recognized the horrible blankness in Bandit's eyes.

Then she felt a hand on her own shoulder, a voice that cut through the panic in her chest, the steadiness of Jean beside her, a shelter in the storm. "Ester." The words were faint, as if from a great distance. "Ester. What happened?"

Ester couldn't do anything but shake her head, staring at Bandit's placid expression as Jean folded the hunter into her arms and carried her back towards their camp. As Ester followed, hugging herself tightly, she realized how long it had been since she had last felt this small.

#enter the cornball zone

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