#spoilers for soldered wires?

[thecryptidart1st]

When the MJ musical was visually very aesthetic to the lore of Soldered Wires:

[becauseplot]

Back on my bullshit with another AU for Inktordem! Jesus Christ I need to start making these prompt fills shorter BUT I had a lot of fun playing with ideas :D Debating how much background I should give you on the AU, hmmm...

Spoilers for character stuff revealed in OPD: Episodes 1 & 20, but nothing on OPD lore itself.

DAY 10 – RITUAL

Loneliness AU is an AU wherein Kaiser (once "Cesar") was introduced to the power of the Other Side at a young age. At the time of OSNF, as well as the winter following it, he's an Energy occultist operating in the criminal underground. He uses his coding and fabrication skills, in his conjunction with his Paranormal know-how, to work "by commission."

~*~

Kaiser taps his soldering iron against the wire frame and leans away from the fumes. He can’t hear the hiss of it over the music pounding through his earbuds—a lot of synth and a lot of noise, too much to let his brain make thoughts, allowing his hands to do all the thinking for him. He spares a moment to turn the dial on the heat down a notch, then eases right back into his rhythm.

It's the last section before this wire circuit mesh is complete. Not an overly complex design, but they’re a little different every time. That’s the fun of it, after all: no two flash drives are the same. He cannibalized two of his old meshes for the base of this one—about the size and shape of a small dinner plate—then added a scatter of new connections by tossing a fistfull of copper wire strips over it and soldering the ends more-or-less where they landed. The wires have been bent to resemble the familiar shape of the symbol of Energy, and a few of the old connections have been cut to solder new ones.

He solders one last connection. He waves away the vapors and gives it a once over. He has no idea what he’s just made. Perfect. Kaiser puts his iron aside (remembers to turn it off this time; no more burns on his fingers, thank you) and leans forward. He peeks through the abandoned office’s window and looks down at the old warehouse floor below.

Valéria and her “Bloodhounds” are still beating each other to shit downstairs. Well, actually, it looks like they’ve moved on to beating each other up to ganging up on some random guys Kaiser’s never seen around here before. Probably “enemies” of theirs they dragged in, or something. 

Kaiser doesn’t keep up with their politics too much, he just keeps up with whatever rent Valéria wants him to pay. Last time it was knuckle knives with electrodes installed in their tips. And then fixing said knuckles when she broke the capacitors trying to clean them.

Kaiser watches as one of Valéria’s guys shouts (or laughs; he can’t tell over the music in his earbuds) and swings a punch at one of the victims, an explosion of blood chasing after his knuckles as the other hits the ground, hard. They try to get up, and another kicks them square in the gut, once, twice, three times.

Oh, yeah. They’re definitely laughing now. I looks like they’re having fun. Kaiser thinks they won’t really care if he fucks with the power for a minute. But he also knows that Valéria likes a heads-up. Kaiser fishes his burner out of his pocket and sends a message.

You (23:44)

ritual soon. lights might get funny. -k

Kaiser watches the floor. Valéria, standing off to the side and cheering for her Hounds as they beat the victims to bloody messes, suddenly reaches into her pocket and pulls out a cellphone. She begins to type.

Unknown Number (23:44)

Kk!! <33

Have fun!!

Kaiser pockets his burner. He leans away from the window and spins out of his chair, grabbing his mesh as he goes. He swings around, shoes sweeping through the fog settled over the ground, and kicks away the ratty, bloodstained rug.

The transcendence symbol painted on the filthy, cracked tile stares up at him. He stares back. He flips it off, steps into it, then drops down to one knee to lay the mesh square in the center.

First piece in place. Kaiser bounces up onto his feet, stumbles, and looks through the tables of broken laptops and warped metal scraps for wherever he tossed his backpack when he came in.

The chair across from his workbench, of course. He rifles around in it looking for his box of etched flash drives. Well, no, first he rifles around looking for his spare box of cigarettes and lights one up for himself because he can already feel the shake in his hands coming back and he knows it’s only going to get worse the closer he gets to actually doing this and he still needs to be able to arrange the other pieces. 

So. Cigarette first. Once he’s taken a couple drags, he pulls out his box of flash drives, each with the Energy symbol already etched into the plastic, along with a few other Sigils. He plucks one from the bunch, clicks on his laptop, and sets the files uploading. Eight whole gigabytes worth of code that goes nowhere: variables that accumulate based on random number generators, recursion loops that fold in on themselves, and generations of parent-child classes that have become Theseus’ ship in terms of the functions they inherit—plus some uncompilable code ripped from files of various video games, for flavor. The curse will need something in the flash drive itself to latch onto, after all.

As it uploads, Kaiser checks his helm. He used his soldering iron to weld the spider web cracks in the plastic casing along the side, then left it to charge. He reaches under the jaw and feels around for a switch. Some of the purple LEDs in the side come on, and Kaiser counts the lights: seven of ten full, the eighth flashing. Not bad. Assuming nothing goes horribly wrong and he’s out of here soon, he should still have a decent charge on it. 

Just as he’s thumbing over his other patch jobs, mulling over if he should just get a new visor for this thing already, his burner vibrates in his pocket.

Unknown Number (23:47)

Ya kno, u should totally come down here sometime

It’s fun!!

I think some of the guys here have literally never seen ur face lol

Kaiser raises his eyebrow. He looks at the dark, one-way tint of his helm’s visor.

You (23:47)

that’s kind of the point

Unknown Number (23:47)

HA 

You know what I mean tho

Files uploaded. Flash drive is ready. Now the last part—where the fuck did he put that box. He puts his burner in his pocket to sift through his boxes of junk components. A second later, it buzzes again. He picks it up as he keeps rummaging.

Unknown Number (23:48)

Like I know ur not big on teh ring fights but Geraldo and Tati are literally just playing cards out back

When ur done up there they can deal u in if u want :D

Kaiser pauses to tap out an answer.

You (23:48)

busy. maybe some other time.

Yeah right. Kaiser tosses his burner into his backpack before he can see Valéria’s nagging replies.

After a little more rifling, there it is. Box of used, broken Gameboys and Gameboy cartridges he bought (yes, bought, with his own money this time) from the second hand store two towns over. The guy working the counter practically gave them away, to be honest; they were junk to him. Kaiser had been over the moon. He’s since modified the Gameboys, tossed aside their back paneling (if they had it) and soldered in connections between their motherboards and USB adapters.

Would that actually work if he were to plug in his flash drive and power it on? Hell no. But all that matters is there’s some sort of channel to have the Paranormal talk between the save files of the used game cartridge, the heart of the Gameboy itself, and Kaiser’s nonsense code.

Kaiser plucks one out. This Gameboy had probably been owned by a little girl, given the peeling heart stickers on the back. There’s a name written in purple marker that’s half-faded, half missing with part of the broken casing. Kaiser can make out “E-L-I–” and then nothing more. The cartridge is too busted to see what game she was playing. Kaiser hums, plugs in his flash drive, and scoops the whole thing up into his hands. 

Onto the mesh it goes. A tangle of cables arranged carefully so the flash drive sits in the middle, exposed wires of the Gameboy wrapped around key junctions in the circuitry of the mesh. Kaiser steps back and looks at it all, listening to music and smoking for a minute. Two minutes. Three minutes. Four. 

Kaiser taps his heel. He taps his finger against his thigh. He puts out his cigarette on the table—clearly doing nothing for him, not that it matters—and goes to fetch the cable.

His heart is already picking up when he finds it. That’s fine. It’s fine. Part of the process. The cable was ripped from an old vacuum cleaner. It plugs into the wall, and its other end is stripped so the wires are exposed. Connection point. He grabs it by the casing and drags it over to the transcendence circle.

He kneels down in front of his flash drive. He shrugs off his hoodie and tosses it somewhere, then pulls out his earbuds (whiplash from the vacuum of sound; he can hear echoing shouts from downstairs, words he won’t parse) and tosses those with his mp3 onto his hoodie.

Only one thing left to do now. The fog curls around his knees. His hands have long since started shaking again. He’s sweating.

Okay. Deep breaths, Kaiser. Part of the process. He picks up the cable again. His other hand lays over the flashdrive, the old Gameboy, the mesh. The heel of his palm connects with the transcendence symbol painted on the floor. 

He concentrates on it. His fingers quiver around the cable. He feels slightly light-headed. He concentrates. He remembers everything he doesn’t want to remember. He lets it drive his heart rate faster, lets it kick up a hum beneath his skin where the old wires still lay, watches as the glow traces up his arms and chest like veins, hot and sparking. 

He concentrates on the symbol. He closes his eyes, takes a deep breath, and touches the exposed wire of the cable to his wrist.

Energy fires through him. Bursts of exploding stars behind his eyelids, the supernovas revealing every regret, every possibility, every road not taken and every choice not made and every road that can be taken and every choice he can make firing through the synapses of his brain like a switchboard; a screeching in his ears, a blazing under his skin, a reality too big for his own body being forced through him regardless; all of it coalescing into the image of an ever-changing, violent specter that screams with the voice of a little girl, taken and ripped to shreds and patched together with distorted 8-bit music, given new life, new form, new pixels, new beginning, new memory, new, new, nothing lost, new, breathe again, breathe new, breathe—

Kaiser gasps. He blinks the sparks and tears out of his eyes. He coughs like he’s choking on a bad drag of a cigarette. The glow under his skin begins to fade, the heat and the hum of electricity with it. His heart is beating so hard he can feel it in his throat.

But when he lifts his hand from the mesh, arm twitching in the aftershocks, there lays a flash drive with new etchings in its surface that look like they were carved by a lightning strike. The Energy symbol sits like a brand in its center.

A new flash drive. A new creature. Kaiser thinks of the ear-piercing scream it gave, and a creaky laugh bubbles out of his throat. Good fucking luck to whoever’s gonna have to kill it, because it sure as hell won’t be Kaiser.

[bellygunnr]

Daedalus

KR spoilers for "Chariot of Gold." Kitt and Bonnie come to terms.

Bonnie arranged her tools. She organized them alphabetically, by size, by function, and by color, rending the functionality of her garage asunder. A plain black box leers at her from her work table, unmoved, sealed, and untouched. Within it lies her reason for working, secondary only to the binder of papers stamped with the Foundation Knight.

The sound of tires shuffling against metal draws her attention. Her grip loosens on the handful of ten millimeter wrenches she'd been fussing with, causing them to slide to the floor with a clatter. She flinches at the sound.

"Bonnie."

Tires shuffle again, back and forth, giving the sleek black car nestled in the rear of the semi-trailer a nervous appearance. She watches his steering yoke waggle back and forth through the windshield.

"Yeah, Kitt?"

His wheels should be chocked in place. He trembles violently in time with the semi as it crosses over broken asphalt. Her skin crawls with the unseen gaze of the car.

"When will we be installing the new component?"

He speaks softly. The gentleness is not lost on her, so different from his confident inquisitiveness. She can tell he doesn't want to overstep-- but what is there to overstep?

He didn't do anything wrong.

"…I'm sorry, Kitt," Bonnie says.

"You didn't do anything--" Kitt starts.

"Yes, I did, Kitt. And I know you've forgiven me, and I'm very grateful, but it's still-- it's hard, Kitt," she wrenches out. "I never want to do that to you again."

Before she can think better of it, she pulls the metal tabs keeping the box together. The lid falls open, revealing a knot of plastic that she delicately pulls apart. The component within-- a security upgrade.

Kitt pops open his door without a word.

Bonnie lingers at his side.

"I'm scared, too, Bonnie," Kitt says, just as she pulls open the door handle.

His cabin, usually so inviting and familiar, terrifies her. Only the gently pulsing light indicating his voice encourages her to slide into the driver's seat, already warm to the touch.

"But I know it will never happen again. It was not your fault. But the logic loop may never go away."

Bonnie swallows against a lump in her throat. Her hands shake as she unseals the control panel beneath Kitt's dash, lowering it slowly to the floor with her fingertips. Here, everything. The three daughter cards that support the microprocessor.

They'd shocked her as she ripped them out.

"You can do it, Bonnie," Kitt says gently.

"You're scared?" She asks.

Kitt's CRT monitors warm up slowly. Instructions and blueprints coax her into beginning the arduous process of modification.

"It is the only… reasonable… conclusion to the kind of processes I have been experiencing. I do not relish it, nor do I enjoy it. Emotions are beyond my scope. What use is a car that gets scared? Angry?"

His voice is a soothing vibration from the speakers. Her fingers memorize the texture of hard plastic and high-end alloy as she draws measurements and ideas.

"It's okay to be scared," Bonnie murmurs.

There's a brain inches from her hands. She's lobotomized him once. There's a person she can cut holes into and solder new connections and thread wires through. Blood and wine and electricity flows beyond her vision, a nervous system only she understands.

And is that not the issue?

"We can be scared together," she says.

"I have found that things are easier to face with a friend," Kitt says thoughtfully. "But is it alright that I feel?"

Bonnie breathes in, holds it within her chest.

"Always, Kitt."

[scifimagpie]

9 Lines, 9 People

This time, @mrbexwrites got me! More SPOILERS from Monsters and Fools, the wip, and sequel to this.

***

I’m so tired, I can’t even shape Dust very well right now. It’s hard to hold it together properly, and when I tried to make shirts, I kept forgetting stupid little details, so they looked wrong. It’s one thing to shape a soldering iron; I know how those work. But clothes? Like obviously I still remember how to patch and repair things, but mostly for modern clothes. Old-fashioned stuff is different, and has all these stupid hems and little details—augh. I can’t imagine what it was like for those lucky bastards, with their huge factories and all those different styles coming in and out every month. Anyway, point is, old-style clothes are hard and I’m barely keeping it together. Someone scavenged me a few pairs of pliers and some scrap wire, and I’ve been making little bits of jewelry just to keep my hands occupied (and so I don’t kill someone when my nerves are too raw).

***

@moonluringfrost​​ @on-noon​​ @charlesjosephwrites @gummybugg @stories-by-rie @rmgrey-author @jasperygrace @acertainmoshke @tabswrites

[sleepingjasminetea]

IVE GONE MAD AND REDISCOVERED MY LOVE OF JEWELRY MAKING

All copper and various stones

All prototypes of better versions coming

I FINALLY FIGURED OUT THE SOLDER!!!!

The absolutely massive one and the red copper ring belong to Serif , specifically, to Yahya and his father. The large one is a prototype of the Serif's signet ring where the stone will be replaced by a carved cabochon. The red copper one was a gift from an adolescent Yahya to his father....with hidden symbolism in the rose. (Ehehehe, DM me if you want the spoilers of what it is)

The remaining ring y'all have seen before. This is the prototype to Paix's ring in @valoisfulcanellideux These Stones Remember. I'm still in the process of redesigning the decorations to make it fit for the Prophet-King.

I'm sticking more technical bits under a read more.

That red gloss on the rose ring? Completely natural. Likely a reaction between the flux I'm using and extreme heat! I loved it, so I'm keeping it!

That stupidly large ring is wire wrapped. And a pain to get on and off. 3/10 do not recommend on jewelry that is intended to be worn directly against skin....or at least wire wrapping at my skill level and care......

[agp]

hey if youre on turtle island or still tuesday and feel like trying a quick silly browser game you should check out tradle. (i think it updates at midnight based on time zones?) todays is real fun i prommy.

you get five guesses to figure out a country from its export data, and after each guess they tell you how far away you are and what direction the county youre looking for is. i know it sounds like a ridiculous challenge but this one has a bunch of easy hints and giveaways that are accessible to your average westerner

if its wednesday by now or you want to see the data presented differently check out this silly economy under the cut (bolded 'spoilers' ig)

total export value: 371b (usd)

gold: 86.7b (23%}

packaged meds: 48.5b (13%)

vaccines, blood, cultures, etc: 40.3b (11%)

base metal watches: 15.2b (4%)

nitrogen heterocyclic compounds: 14.2b (4%)

jewlery: 9.35b (2.5%)

precious metal watches: 8.97b (2.5%)

orthopedic appliances: 7.02b (2%)

hormones: 3.38b

coffee: 3.36b

electricity: 3.19b

medical instruments: 3.09b

machinery w indv functions: 3.04b

platinum: 2.54b

chemical analysis instruments: 2.27b

nucleic acids: 2.17b

valves: 2.17b

silver: 2.01b

electric motors: 1.78b

scented mixtures: 1.72b

sulfonamides: 1.71b

diamonds: 1.64b

planes, helicopters, and spacecraft: 1.63b

beauty products: 1.58b

other heating machinery: 1.43b

flavored water: 1.43b

gas turbines: 1.38b

low voltage protection eq: 1.34b

gas and liquid flow measuring inst: 1.3b

carboxyamide compounds: 1.26b

other measuring instruments: 1.24b

air pumps: 1.16b

motor vehicles, parts, and acc: 1.14b

petroleum gas: 1.12b

electrical transformers: 1.11b

aluminum plating: 1.07b

other plastic products: 1.01b

metal working machine parts: 988m

vitamins: 965m

polyamides: 963m

washing and bottling machines: 925m

chocolate: 887m

oxygen amino compounds: 885m

integrated circuits: 884m

iron fasteners: 881m

paintings: 873m

transmissions: 855m

special pharmaceuticals: 837m

insulated wire: 828m

electrical power accessories: 826m

plastic lids: 818m

cheese: 800m

antibiotics: 797m

liquid pumps: 797m

cars: 789m

ink: 752m

non mechanical removal machinery: 737m

trunks and cases: 734m

centrifuges: 730m

interchangeable tool parts: 728m

high voltage protection eq: 705m

hand saws: 693m

other edible preparations: 680m

electric heaters: 679m

electrical control boards: 672m

polyacetals: 664m

plastic pipes: 636m

electric soldering equipment: 616m

precious metal compounds: 608m

industrial fatty acids, oils, and alcohols: 608m

hot rolled iron bars: 590m

self propelled rail transport: 582m

refined petroleum: 577m

hydrazine or hydroxylamine derivatives: 565m

precious stones: 563m

rubber working machinery: 561m

unpackaged meds: 557m

other iron products: 553m

precious metal scraps 550m

computers: 545m

surveying equipment: 523m

other plastic sheetings: 519m

metal finishing machines: 516m

scrap copper: 514m

semiconductor devices: 511m

raw plastic sheeting: 494m

documents or title and stamps: 490m

rolled tobacco: 487m

malt extract: 469m

other electrical machinery: 467m

other paper machinery: 450m

oxygen heterocyclic compounds: 441m

non knit mens suits: 441m

synthetic coloring matter: 436m

locomotive parts: 432m

non knit womens suits: 428m

iron structures: 424m

leather footwear: 421m

industrial printers: 415m

lifting machinery: 415m

scrap iron: 412m

therapeutic appliances: 410m

office machine parts: 410m

other clocks and watches: 405m

metal molds: 403m

other furniture: 403m

glaziers putty: 377m

liquid dispersing machines: 376m

knitting machine accessories: 370m

other small iron pipes: 369m

broadcasting equipment: 367m

aircraft parts: 363m

industrial food prep machinery: 362m

glues: 357m

pesticides: 349m

oscilloscopes: 344m

raw aluminum: 344m

knit sweaters: 339m

optical fibers and bundles: 334m

excavation machinery: 332m

non iron/steel slag ash and residue: 319m

carboxylic acids: 315m

xray equipment: 315m

electric motor parts: 315m

watch straps: 313m

tanks and armoured vehicles: 310m

forging machines: 309m

cleaning products: 306m

metalworking transfer machines: 298m

animal food: 294m

combustion engines: 282m

engine parts: 271m

electric generating sets: 254m

scrap aluminum: 249m

laboratory reagents: 249m

perfumes: 244m

other rubber products: 241m

photo lab equipment: 240m

wheat: 236m

lubricating products: 234m

printed circuit boards: 233m

aluminum bars: 230m

explosive ammunition: 230m

brooms: 224m

lcds: 223m

refrigerators: 223m

motorcycles and cycles: 221m

large construction vehicles: 221m

coal briquettes: 221m

corn: 220m

aluminum cans: 219m

textile footwear: 217m

thermostats: 207m

coffee and tea extracts: 206m

other aluminum products: 204m

ball bearings: 203m

knives: 199m

machines for additive mnf: 195m

raw iron bars: 187m

delivery trucks: 185m

milling stones: 176m

aluminum foil: 170m

collectors items: 169m

soybean oil: 169m

wood fiberboard: 166m

other stainless steel bars: 164m

sculptures: 160m

cutting blades: 159m

baked goods: 150m

navigation equipment: 146m

hydrometers: 137m

watch cases and parts: 134m

laboratory ceramic wear: 134m

wood carpentry: 124m

mirrors and lenses: 117m

[vernallagom0rphs]

Welcome to Year of The Spring Rabbit~!

———————

Q&A

What is Year of the Spring Rabbit?

Year of the Spring Rabbit is a year long project where I intend, to the best of my ability, draw one picture of William Afton of Five Nights at Freddy’s every day for the entire year of 2023.

Just William?

I’m allowing for William’s different aliases and personas (Dave Miller, Spring Bonnie, Springtrap, Peepaw, yadda yadda) because they are all William

Wait a minute, this William doesn’t seen canon to me

This William Afton is based on the lore of the Soldered Wires AU (aka my canon on the FNAF lore while squeezing in a missing character from the books) As such, most posts will be spoilers for this AU

Who are you?

This blog and all its art was made by me, @thecryptidart1st .

Can we submit asks?

Yes! While I do have some ideas in mind for daily Williams, suggestions are appreciated at this time due to my lack of upkeep on this blog. Keep in mind that some posts will be put under “Mature Content” filters to be allowed onto Tumblr

———————

Ask Inbox Status: Open

[oetravia]

Every Brainia Scene Ever: 6x16 [5/8]

[redsabres]

momentum • 1 • a humbling battle against a trash can

a peter parker x reader story

prologue • next (coming soon)

•add yourself to the taglist here•

warning(s): blood mention. scientific inaccuracies regarding how much time it takes for a person to fall from six thousand feet. probably some typos. spaghettios.

word count: 4.7k

mild nwh spoilers

WARNING: Velocity Exceeds Safe Limit

WARNING: Altitude Greater Than Ten Thousand Feet

WARNING: Life Support Systems Offline

Those were just some of the many warnings within your vision. There were many more flashing vibrantly across the corners of your eyes, but your suit had sustained too much damage for them to be readable, much less could you comprehend them in your current state. None of the warnings came off as worrying to your somewhat oxygen-deprived, freezing self, until a bright red emergency code came flashing on in the center of your vision, obscuring nearly all the other warnings.

COMPUTER SYSTEMS OFFLINE: ERROR CODE 31

In small text below it, read:

Error code 31: a device attached to system is not functioning.

This nearly made your heart stop, as if the fall wouldn't hurt enough.

Ragnar is gone. The realization sank in.

Now panicking, you sprawled around in the air, trying to think of a solution. In your panic, the hood of your suit snagged on the web shooters, ripping a small section of the seam, tearing it from the bodice of your suit in the process.

That's it!

You carefully ripped the rest of the seam until your hood came off, while still leaving the wire that connected the visual systems to the main hub in your lower back, an area you couldn't reach given your current predicament. Following the cord down as far as you could, you prayed your soldering job was as good, then pulled as hard as you could.

The tiny computer systems chip slid out of its compartment in your suit, whipping around wildly in the air as it came free. You pulled it in front of you, careful not to damage any of the components. Manually zooming in your field of vision with a sliding dial on the side of your neck, you attempted to find the problem. That is, until your vision started fogging up.

Frantically, you ripped off your mask, clutching it in your mouth. Through teary eyes, you found the issue. The CPU had become knocked out of place after Venom had decided to play a game of dodgeball with shipping containers. You pressed it back into place, as good as one could with freezing, shaky hands. Once it was back in place as best as you could get it, you promptly jammed it into a hidden compartment in the abdomen of your suit.

The startup thing greeted your ears. You slid your mask back on.

Computer systems back online flashed across your vision, a welcome change in scenery.

"RAGS," You screamed into your suit, fighting to be heard over the rush of wind, " HOW HIGH UP ARE WE?"

"Six thousand feet and descending." Their voice calmly responded,

"Now five thousand."

You attempted to stay conscious for the rest of the fall, but the adrenaline had begun to wear off.

Closing your eyes, you let fate take the reins.

Unbeknownst to your unconscious self, fate was a trusty steed.

EMERGENCY PROTOCOL 4 ACTIVATED. VELOCITY ARRESTED

You awoke to a searing pain in your abdomen and the smell of spaghettios. A small glyph of the number four was burnt into the left corner of your vision, indicating that emergency protocol 4 was activated.

ah, so that's how I'm alive.

"Ragnar?" You groaned.

Your call was met with silence.

"C'mon bud," you whined, "this isn't funny right now."

Still no response. Even though you were no longer falling, your heart dropped.

You set up, hoping it would help you regain a sense of your surroundings. However, you were immediately forced back down by the pain in your abdomen. You roll onto your uninjured side in an attempt to get up through bypassing the injured side. It worked, and you were able to sit up and see where you were.

a dumpster.

You waited for a moment, hoping Ragnar would jump in with a snarky joke. Silence was your only response. You sighed in defeat. Continuing to lean over the uninjured side, you started to swim through the garbage to the side of the dumpster. It was a grueling process. Along the way, random pieces of god knows what would keep snagging on you, especially on your abdomen, which was concealed by the chest-deep trash.

Finally, you made it to the edge. Careful not to further agitate your side, you slowly hoisted one half of your upper body over the edge, while using your feet to stick to the sides and push yourself up. You were met with the disheartening 'zrrrp' as your feet just slid down the wall, bringing you down with them as you pitifully slid down the side of the dumpster, ending right back where you started. You laid there for a bit, basking in the misfortune. Oh, how much Jonah Jameson would love to see you like this. You could imagine the headline flashing on the billboards of Times Square, reading something along the lines of 'White Spider Found Dumpster Diving in Alley!'

Carefully sitting up, you reached up and over your shoulders to clear any garbage that had tumbled into your hood, but you felt nothing. You must have let go of it when you passed out. It could have floated down anywhere in New York. Even worse, you couldn't get any visual feed from your suit’s computer system if you didn't have your hood, due to the fact that the two were connected. Even worse than that, Ragnar wouldn't be able to help you because they wouldn't be able to see what you're seeing.

You let out a deep, controlled breath, in return taking a slow inhale. Yep, it still smells like spaghettios. That's going to take a while to wash out of the suit. Pushing through the sea of trash with a new sense of determination, you pull yourself up the wall, using the momentum from zooming up to the edge to tumble over the wall. You awkwardly hit the ground, letting out a small 'oof' as you did so.

Now, you could hopefully find another quick fix for your computer system and bring Ragnar back. You glance down at the compartment in your suit that you have haphazardly stuffed the chip into, only to feel emptiness. You glanced down towards your torso, immediately spotting the chip.

Halfway inside your abdomen, the emergency protocol must have kicked in a bit too late and failed to slow you down completely, thus lodging the chip into your abdomen when you fell stomach-first into the dumpster. Overwhelmed with falling nearly ten thousand feet and escaping a spaghettio-scented hell, you must have not noticed the chip was what was causing the pain in your abdomen.

Suddenly, goosebumps filled your arms. A deep, unsettling feeling of dread settled deep within your stomach, right alongside the chip. You cloaked yourself, quickly scaling the small apartment building closest to you, in an attempt to try and find whatever was setting your sense off. What you didn't expect, however, was nearly getting kicked in the head, by a person who was also wearing a spider-themed suit. They stopped at the rooftop across from you, staring straight into your being.

Please don't tell me they have a high-tech plasma mask that can see me right now, you thought.

Luckily, the mystery imposter continues to stare straight through you. It was almost as if they sensed you were there, but couldn't prove your existence to their own conscience.

"Hello?" They called out.

You stayed frozen on your rooftop, unsure if you should reveal yourself or not.

The mysterious person continued to stare through you.

You decided against showing yourself, being in no state for a possible brawl against a possible threat with unknown abilities. You shrunk into the shadows, hoping they would continue on soon.

Almost as if hearing your internal monologue, they turned around and swung away. You sat in somewhat stunned silence for a moment, before pulling yourself together. Thankfully they left when they did, as you could feel your energy weakening, falling out of your cloaked state as they swung away.

For now, you need to worry about getting Ragnar back. After being uncloaked against your will, you glanced down at the computer chip that was still poking out of your abdomen. It was somewhat shallow, as the chip was very small, however you still decided not to mess with it. The last thing you wanted was to underestimate the internal damage and end up bleeding out, alone in a random alleyway.

Upon closer inspection, the small backup memory card still seems to be intact, albeit a little bloodstained. If you could get to a computer, you could probably transfer Ragnar to a new chip. Now, where could you find a relatively unguarded computer in a place that would be easy to infiltrate? You pondered for a moment.

The library!

However, you couldn't show up to the library looking fresh off the set of a horror movie. You groaned, looking back down the garbage disposal below you. Cringing, you didn't want to go through that again. Looking around, you saw a row of garbage cans down the alley. There's got to be a shirt in there somewhere, that's all you need to pass off as a regular civilian.

Not falling off the wall was a challenge in and of itself. Finally reaching the bottom, you made a mental note to practice conserving energy. Popping the first trash can open, you lightly dug through the layers of trash. After digging around for a while to no avail, you closed the lid with a slight 'hmpf' and moved on to the next. You opened the next one, leaning into it to get a better look at the bags. Tearing into one of the bottommost bags, you spotted what appeared to be a T-shirt.

Before you could grab it, a huge rat attempted to crawl up your arm. Caught off guard, you tried to pull back, but you just ended up smashing the back of your head into the top of the trash can on accident. Even worse, when trying to pull out of the trash can, you ended up tipping it over. Straight on to yourself, as you tumble backward and attempt to further avoid the rat.

Oh, how Jameson would love to see you now.

At least the shirt was easier to grab now, as the contents of the garbage can had spilled all over the ground, including you.

You pulled the shirt on, careful not to irritate the wound. Setting out for the library, you made another mental note to practice energy endurance for invisibility.

Climbing back on top of the apartment building, you looked around to get a sense of where you were, and what library you were closest to. After looking around for a bit, you got your bearings and headed off in the direction of Times Square.

It wasn't too far of a walk. From here, the library was only a short walk away.

Arriving at Times Square, you took in the many large digital billboards. As always, Jonah Jameson's annoying face was plastered front and center on the largest one. Unsurprisingly, he was ranting about the city's untrustable, reckless superhero. However, an all too familiar face popped up on the screen.

Beck, that lying little bitch.

Ironically, you teamed up with Venom to get rid of him. He was a mutual pain in both your sides, so the two (three?) of you decided it would be in every party's best interest to temporarily work together. Afterward, everyone agreed that such a truce was never to happen again.

However, Quentin had been gone for a long time.

Things aren't adding up. Unless…

No. The multiverse theory can't possibly be true…

Not after all this time.

Your parents had devoted their life's work to prove the existence of the multiverse, only for them to mysteriously disappear one day, their labs ransacked.

Caught up in your thoughts, you had stopped paying attention to the billboard for a short span of time. Glancing up at it, you saw an unfamiliar face labeled 'PUBLIC ENEMY #1' in big, angry letters.

"That's right folks," came Jonah Jameson's booming voice, "Peter Parker is Spider-Man, and he killed Mysterio!"

He continued, "This is J. Jonah Jameson, signing off."

Since when did he have an extra J in his name?

Hold up- The person you saw earlier was just a kid close to your age?

People around you started murmuring, pointing to the skies. You froze, once again having your sense get set off. You followed the gaze of the crowd, eyes landing on the spider-suited individual that nearly concussed you earlier.

The person- who you learned to be Peter Parker, landed on the ground halfway across the square from you, holding a person in his arms. Immeasurably, the two were surrounded by the crowd, overwhelming the two with questions and accusations. While you couldn't relate to the public finding out your identity, you were fully aware of how it felt to be cornered against your will.

You understood the crushing anxiety, the helplessness, and the feeling of betrayal that Peter currently faced at this moment. So, you decide to do what superheroes do best:

Cause property damage.

Making sure everybody was too focused on the disgraced hero to notice your actions, you shot two strings of web, one from each arm, at the caps of two fire hydrants near the crowd. Pulling as hard as you could, you tore the caps of each respective fire hydrant off, causing highly pressurized water to shoot up and at the crowd.

Everyone who had gathered immediately scattered, rushing away to avoid getting wet.

You continued onward to the library, unaware of the two curious gazes settled on your form as you walked away.

The library was a gorgeous stone building about half a mile from Times Square. Walking into the library- such a public place, with your suit on (albeit the top half was covered, leaving the bottom half looking like a pair of overly detailed leggings), but no mask felt strange. Honestly, in a way, it made you feel naked.

You were able to snag a computer at the library pretty easily. Upon sitting down on the cheap desk chair, you promptly shoved Ragnar's memory component into the computer. It was nanotech, so you didn't have to worry about ripping the whole computer apart to get it in. Once Ragnar was set up, you plugged in the headset you stole from the front desk, and opened their program.

"Ragnar?" You cautiously asked into the headset, fearing for the worst.

"You look like you battled a trash can and lost." Came a welcome, sassy response from your robot companion.

"Look, there was a rat, okay? Then it tried to eat my arm, or something."

"Oh my god, you actually fought a trash can?"

"I don't wanna talk about it," you mumbled, looking anywhere but the webcam of the desktop, "plus, I have bigger problems at the moment."

"Like what?" Ragnar asks, as if the two of you weren't falling out of the sky just earlier that day.

"First of all, I lost my hood sometime during the fall-"

"Oh that's easy," Ragnar cut you off, "here, let me pull it up on a map-"

"And," you sternly continued, "the suit's main chip is stuck in my abdomen." You finished, the last few words escaping in a rushed, quiet whisper.

"Oh, shit." The sentence came out awkwardly, as the AI had never experienced physical pain. Yet they continued, "at least your hood isn't too far away."

You stare blankly into the webcam of the computer, in an attempt to convey the fact that you would've just slapped Ragnar's soul out of their body if they were a person sitting in front of you. It must've worked, because the next thing they chose to say was actually useful.

"What if I used some of the nanotech still inside the chip to pull it out and seal it?" Ragnar suggested. "It won't hurt too much, the chip isn't that deep."

You glanced around at the other people in the computer lab. There weren't many, so just maybe could you get away with this.

"Fine, but please be gentle."

Ragnar didn't directly respond, but a pop-up opened on your screen.

Chip removal: initiated

Good luck! I'll try not to fry you up too much

-R

You glared into the webcam again, but had to hunch over due to a searing pain in your abdomen. It was equivalent to someone pulling a thousand rusty needles out of you. You bit the inside of your cheek so as to not draw any attention to yourself.

"aaaaand we're done!" Came Ragnar's voice.

"Great, let's never do that again."

You laid back in your chair, closing your eyes with a sigh of relief, appreciating being computer chip-free.

Your eyes shot open.

You still had to explain to Ragnar that you were in a different universe. However, you didn't really know how to explain the situation without just going Hey, in the short time you were offline, we were transported to another dimension, in which there's another spider-based hero- who isn't me, and the public hates him because Mysterio- not the one from our dimension, even though this fact is also applicable to him, is a lying little bitch who framed him. Good luck taking that in!

But you also had no better ideas on how to phrase it.

You opened the terminal, where you would write code, but instead wrote a note to Ragnar, so the other people in the computer lab didn't think you were insane for muttering about dimensions and universes.

You began typing furiously.

Hey Rags,

The fall transported us to what I think is a different universe. There's somewhat of a version of 'me' in this universe- the other spider suited guy I saw earlier, he's called Spider-Man, but his name's Peter Parker and the public hates him. That's because Mysterio, not the one from out worlf, but the one from this world blackmailed him from beyond the grave.

Ragnar typed back,

What's 'out worlf'?

You typed back,

Shut up, I was trying to type fast.

Ragnar didn't respond after that, no doubt still taking in the fact that the two of you were trapped in a different dimension.

"Rags? You good bud?"

Ragnar didn't respond, prompting you to briefly panic.

A small, grey and blue error box popped up, filled with exclamation points. Instead of the operating system logo, however, was Ragnar's little logo of a small spider.

You giggled at their antics.

"Yes," came an uncharacteristically stern answer from Ragnar, "With that out of the way, would you like me to update to local time?"

"What?" Now it was your turn to be perplexed.

"Here, it is March fifteenth. Back home, it was March Eighteenth."

You sat still for a moment, processing the information.

"So... We went back in time?"

"I believe so. I am unaware of what repercussions this may have."

"Oh my god, am I gonna get like, inter-dimensional jet lag or something?"

"Possibly. Would you like me to monitor your brain waves for fatigue- oh, never mind. Forgot I can't do that like this."

You let out a quiet hmmm, pondering what could be done to get your robot friend out of his 2011 desktop prison.

A solution came in the form of a bright yellow USB poking out from the back of the desktops tower.

"Rags, you can transfer yourself to a new chip, right?"

"Yes," said Ragnar after seemingly pondering for a moment. "It would take quite a while though"

"Ok. Transfer yourself to the USB in the tower."

"That thing?! No! It's old and dirty, and god knows what's already on it!"

"Fine," you sighed, opening the file management app, "Have it your way. "

Moving the files off the USB, you move Ragnar's program over and press ENTER.

"You little sh-"

You giggled as Ragnar's voice was cut off by a pop-up on your screen:

File transfer initiated.

6% complete

You sighed, pushing off from the desk to stretch your legs. You decided to grab a book to entertain yourself, since Ragnar would probably be taking their sweet time. On your way out of the computer lab, you propped the door with a pen. You cruised into the first aisle of books you saw. Grabbing the most flashy book you could find by just glossing over the shelves, you quickly headed back to the computer lab.

Sitting back down at your desk, you were finally able to get a good look at the book.

Superheroes: A Complete History

Sort of ironic that you, of all people, grabbed this exact book. You were drawn to it's gold lettering and flashy cover art.

Now that you didn't have the constant interruption of your somewhat annoying, yet dearly beloved companion, you could finally get some reading done. The book started in the nineteen forties, with the emergence of SHIELD and the creation of Captain America. Then, it had a subsection on an evil foundation called HYDRA that apparently operated secretly with basically nothing keeping it in check. Then, the book skipped ahead to Iron Man, who you learned to be Tony Stark, and all about how he built a full suit stranded in a cave. You thought that part was cool, but didn't really agree with the part about missiles.

Most of the book was about the Avengers, a group of superheroes who you learned operated out of New York. Apparently, the group consisted of a bored billionaire, an ex-Russian spy, an old man, a Greek god, and an archer, and they got more members along the way. You were sad to find that they were no longer around, save for a few members. Most of them had gone off the grid, except for one; Spider-Man. You definitely spent the most time reading his chapter, making sure to absorb every word on the paper. Spider-Man fascinated you. The two of you had so many differences- yet so many similarities.

"Are you done yet?" A familiar voice came, startling you out of your thoughts.

"Oh shut up," you started, giggling at your friend's antics, "show me where my hood is so we can do fieldwork together again."

A blue and black map popped up on the screen, showing a location. It looked like an intricate building, with a large metal sculpture near the roof.

"It's here. 177A Bleecker Street, in Greenwich Village. About a forty minute walk, ten minutes if you swing over."

"Great. I'll be leaving now, I'm gonna pull you out of the tower now."

Without any more of a warning, you ripped the yellow USB out of the computer, gently holding it in your hand.

Leaving out the north doors, you set off to get your hood back.

177A Bleecker Street was a stunning building. It wasn't that big, but it has gorgeous architectural details that made you jealous you didn't have this in your dimension.

You cloaked yourself, then continued to climb up the front side of the building. Sure enough, one of the windows behind the sculpture was able to be opened, so you silently entered through there. The building appeared to be the private collection of some collector, with books and artifacts everywhere.

You quietly stalked through the aisles of books in search of your mask. Finding nothing, you scale the wall down to the level below, not wanting to risk setting off a creaky stair.

It was ridiculously cold on the main floor, and the floor was covered in what appeared to be snow.

A large, strongly built man walked into the room.

"Dammit! Someone left the window open again."

Window? It's the middle of March…

He stalked off to a narrow side hallway. You followed him, silently crawling along the ceiling.

The hallway came to a room with three windows, each to a different climate. As he said, the wintery-looking window-door-portal thingy was open, blowing snow inside the building.

He groaned, closing it with force.

He spun around and left. You continued to follow. The man went off down another hallway and down some stairs. You still continued to stalk behind him, ending up in what appeared to be a sort of office space. You followed him in, crawling around to the center of the ceiling as he sat down at his chair.

Your mask didn't appear to be here. You were just about to look for a way to sneak out, but then the man, opening a desk drawer, revealed your mask. It was so close, all you had to do was extend yourself toward it and steak it off his desk, and make a run for it. However, he continued to inspect your mask very closely, scribbling down things in a journal as he did so.

"How did you get here, you strange little cloth?" He pondered aloud.

Before he could write any further, a loud boom echoed through the building. He sprung out of his chair, out the room, and down the hallway. You took this opportunity to grab your mask and leave the office as well.

"Is this all for a holiday party?" You heard a new voice ask.

"No. One of the rotunda gateways connects to Siberia. Blizzard blasted through." The Man Who you stalked said. Against your better judgment, you perched yourself on the railing overlooking the main floor. The man continued,

"Because someone forgot to cast a maintenance spell to keep the seals tight!"

Spell?

The two continued to argue. You surveyed the room. Along with the two men, stood Peter Parker.

What could he be doing here?

As if he heard your question,

"When Mysterio revealed my identity, my entire life got screwed up, and I was wondering, I mean, I don’t even know if this would actually work, but I was wondering if maybe you could go back in time and make it so that he never did?" Peter rambled.

Back in time? Maybe this could help you answer the question of how you got here.

The three then had a brief argument, something about dark magic and runes.

In all honesty, you were kind of stoked magic existed here.

Caught up in thinking about magic, you almost missed the two descending a set of dusty stairs into a cellar. You followed them, too, into a room filled with ruins.

"Some of these walls are thousands of years old," The older man started, "and they shot an episode of Equalizer here in the ’80s."

You positioned yourself sitting atop a short wall, ready to throw yourself backward if your energy started to wane again.

Now, the two were standing across from each other in the center of the room. The older one, who was probably Stephen, as you guessed from the earlier conversation, was crafting a spell while Peter was rambling on.

"Everyone in the world is gonna forget you’re Spider-Man, except your girlfriend."

"Thank you so much… Oh, my God. Ned."

"What is a Ned?"

They went on and on, back and forth for a while. You sat on the wall, amused.

"Basically, everyone who knew that I was Spider-Man before, should still know." Peter stated, finally done with tweaking the spell.

You were entranced by the golden rings filled with glyphic writing that flowed around Stephen in the center of the room. So entranced, that when the spell collapsed, you were knocked out of invisibility.

As soon as the walls around you disappeared, your body felt as if someone was injecting magma into your bones. The sense of something being just so carnally wrong filled your mind, trapping you in a cage crafted of the flesh of your own mind.

You curled into a fetal position, praying the pain would subside. You couldn't help but believe, out of everything you've been through today, it was a wizard that was going to get you killed, not a nearly twenty thousand foot fall.

Fun Fact: While uploading source content to Ragnar's AI during their creation, you accidentally uploaded an episode of RuPaul's Drag Race, which is where they get their attitude from.

[mandoalorian]

Hot Springs [Din Djarin x Reader] SMUT

SPOILERS FOR THE MANDALORIAN SEASON 2, EPISODE 2. [CHAPTER 10].

Summary: when The Mandalorian crashes his ship into a barely habitable and unfamiliar ice cold planet, he has to spend time on repairs. Little does he know, his bounty (you), has sauntered off into the depths of the crystallic cave, finding a hot spring to lounge in. When he discovers you pleasuring yourself amongst the thermal blue waters, he just can’t keep his hands of you. 

Warnings: SMUT (duh...) m receiving oral, p in v, lots of touching and affection.

Word count: 3k

Rating: 18+ only

Authors Note: The devil works hard but I work harder. Chapter 10 was literally released three hours ago and I’ve already knocked this up. The scene with the hot springs gave me ~thoughts~ and well, I hope you enjoy!

MASTERLISIT | Submit a request!

The Mandalorian was just about finished the repairs on his ship when the cooing of his child interrupted him. He put down the soldering iron, and turned to face the little green bean who was knee deep in fluffy white snow. After a few beats of silence, the child let out an incoherent garble and Din sighed. "Are you going to just stand there, or do you want to make yourself useful?" he quizzed, gesturing towards the Razor Crest. The child blinked momentarily and Din let out another huff of annoyance before returning back to solder together some pieces of wire

The child's next garble came only a few moments later and when Din turned around, he noticed that his son was gone. Din dropped the iron once more and raised to his feet, walking around the perimeter of the Crest until he saw the child again. The child turned to his father, babbling and pointing his finger. When Din followed the directions of the child's small claw, he realised that his son had been trying to alert him of something. Din flicked the tracking switch on his visor which highlighted the footprints through the snow.

"She's gone?" he questioned himself out loud. "Wait here." he told the Child, who slumped down in the snow and began to roll snowballs with his small hands.

Din followed your footprints through the depths of the ice cold caves until finally he found you. There you were, lounging naked in what could only be described as a pool of steaming tranquil water. It was a vibrant blue colour, comparable to the beautiful lakes of Naboo or rivers of Alderaan.

"I told you to wait by the ship." The Mandalorian's voice was low and dark through his modulator. There was something sultry about it. If you weren't engulfed in warm water, you might have sworn his voice alone could do things to you that no other man has ever. 

You took in his broad stature. Tall, wide shoulders, and covered in the most pristine Beskar armour. And he was just standing there, watching you.

"Just about all ice planets have hot springs," you informed the Mandalorian, dodging his statement only slightly. "They're almost always in crystalline caves, just like this one. They're heated by underground volcanic activity. I know what you're thinking— volcanoes on an ice planet? But trust me. Legends says they have healing powers and well, I believe them. The natural oils that these thermal waters possess make my skin so smooth." you drew out, kicking your leg out the water and rubbing your hand along your calf and up your thigh, humming in delight at the touch.

"Stars." Din gritted out as he watched you touch yourself. You noticed upon his entrance to the springs, he had completely stiffened up, not moving an inch. His eyes were locked on you. But you didn't mind. In fact, you kind of liked the attention from a Mandalorian. "So you knew about the hot springs here?"

"I knew there'd be hot springs, sure," you shrugged, continuing to drag the warm thick blue water over your skin. The oils in it made it slippery but all the more appealing to the Mandalorian. He shuffled in his boots slightly, dragging them across the thick snow beneath him. "I got bored waiting on the ship. Not much to do for entertainment."

The Mandalorian scoffed, but he couldn't exactly argue with you. "You could've put yourself in danger." he muttered, looking around. Your eyes followed his.

"Do you see anything?" you prompted him. "No? Exactly. It's safe here, I promise." After a long beat of silence, you took a deep breath and inhaled the fragranced air around you. "Join me." you murmured.

The Mandalorian was taken aback, but your offer became harder to refuse by the second. Maker, his cock was throbbing now, constricted and feeling tight under his pants and armour. He tilted his head slightly and watched as you let your hands grace your body and squeeze your own breasts. You knew exactly how to lure him in. You gently closed your eyes at the sensation, a sweet moan escaping your lips.

Of course, the opaqueness of the turquoise water left very little visible to the Mandalorian's eye but judging from the way you were positioned and the slight slushing sound of the water, he knew you were touching himself. 

The Mandalorian wanted to hear that moan again. If that sound was the noise you made when you touched yourself, then he wanted to hear the noises you could make when he touched you.

You were utterly a sight to behold. He wanted to engrain the image of you, lounging in the hot springs, for the rest of his life. 

The thought of you pleasuring yourself in front of him created a fire in his stomach. He felt his already hard cock twitching at the sight of you. Your hair wasn't completely wet, but damp from the condensation in the air, sticking slightly to your skin. Pearls of sweat beaded across your hairline and as he trailed his vision down, he noticed the way it glossed over your collarbones— defining them.

"If I join you," the Mandalorian gulped. "I might not be able to control myself." he warned, a strong level of sterness in his voice.

You bit your lip and extended your arms, propping yourself up in the tub so he could see the way you spread yourself out for him. "Consider this an invitation." you gazed up towards him, fluttering your eyelashes which framed your doe-like eyes.

The Mandalorian discarded his armour one by one, the Beskar of his chest plate and knee pads clanking as he dropped them to the rocky ground beneath him. As he undressed himself, he didn't take his eyes from you, and so, you decided to give him a little show to watch.

You hopped up on to the side of the tub, exposing your naked body. You even heard Din's breathing hitch when he took sight of you. You crossed your legs over, not wanting to show him too much yet, but dropped your head back and your breasts together. The sudden coldness in the air hardened your nipples and made them sensitive as you ran the pad of your thumb over the little bud, pinching it now and again. You dipped your hands back in the water and gently let the warm, oily water drip down your body. Din watched, completely enthralled as droplets dripped down the curve of your breasts and pooled in your belly button. He wanted to spread you out— take you now. Fuck you fast and hard in the snow if he could.

But there was something so delicate about the way you performed for him. The way you gently touched yourself and your whimpers which echoed throughout the crystallised caves. It struck something inside of him. He wanted to take it slow, touch every part of you like it had never been touched before. Grace his finger along every edge and dip of your body.

It wasn't long until the Mandalorian had stripped completely down, his clothing pooled on the floor amongst yourd. You let out a small gasp as you took in his manhood which was hard and pressed against his tummy. Dark brown hair trailed from his belly button down to his crotch and you swallowed a lump in your throat that you didn't realise you were holding. You knew he couldn't take his helmet off, but seeing the colour of his hair on another part of his body awakened a primal feeling inside of you.

He stood there, awkwardly, almost like he was awaiting your instruction. His hand dropped to his cock and he began to rub his length slowly, up and down. It was in that moment you got an eyeful of the precum that was beading at the dark pink tip. Oh Maker…. he was desperate for you.

"Come here." you gestured with a finger that beckoned him to walk around the steaming hot tub. Still jerking himself, he walked to the edge of the tub where you were sitting and you continued to swirl your feet into the water.

When he stood before you, you took his hand and gently removed it from his cock. The loss of Din's grip made his cock bounce forward. You looked down at it, taking in the sight of all the bumps and veins and licked your lips at the thought of how he would feel inside of you. He was big, you knew he'd stretch you out, but you had hope in the oils from the springs that maybe they'd lubricate you before that time came. "I want to taste you, is that alright?" you asked, dipping your hand into the warm water and taking it back out before rubbing his length.

"Y-yes," he stuttered, jerking his hips deeper into your first. You tutted and slowly shook your head at his lack of patience. The oils from the thermal water had made your hands slick and wet.

You rolled your hand to the bottom of his girth and cupped his balls before skillfully swirling your tongue over his pink tip, earning a groan from him. Your lips curved into a smirk as you continued with the kitten licks, savouring every drop of precum that he had created. You wanted to be vocal for him, making sure you moaned when his salty seed hit your tongue. Licking your lips, making sure you could devour every last drop. "Tastes so good," you cooed before taking his full length in your mouth and bopping your head.

On impulse, Din grabbed a fist full of your hair, holding your head in place as you took him as far as you could. With his remaining length, you lifted your hand and began to pump him. You slowly drew back from his cock, a line of your saliva mixer with his precum drawn from the tip of his cock to your swollen lips.

"What are you doing?" Din growled, pushing your head back on his cock. 

"Cmon, I know you want to fuck my mouth. I see the way you jerk your hips. And I want it too. Fuck my mouth, Mando," you commanded, reaching up and pressing a hand along his v-line.

You parted your lips only slightly, but enough for the Mandalorian to push his length inside of you. You immediately found yourself hollowing your cheeks as he began to fuck your mouth, illicitng curses in what you could only assume to be Mando’a. You grabbed onto his hips, fingernails pinching into his ass as he thrusted inside of you. "S-such a good mouth for me," he praised. "Good girl. Take me so well." It wasn't long before you felt his cock twitch in your mouth and you drew back, not wanting him to cum just yet.

"Join me in the water," you pleaded, hopping back into the tub and letting the wetness engulf you. The Mandalorian sat on the edge of the tub and carefully slipped in, the water rising to his chest. He shuddered at the heat and you couldn't help but smile. "You like it?" you asked him, and he nodded his head in agreement.

"Yeah, haven't felt anything this nice since- since-" The Mandalorian couldn't finish his sentence because you were already dragging him through the water and on top of you.

Once again, you leaned against the side of the tub and brought the Mandalorian warrior in between your legs. You hooked your legs around his waist and the water pushed his cock against your wet folds, a soft moan escaping your lips. Liking what he could hear, the Mandalorian teasingly rolled his cock over your clit, and your fingers dug into his back.

You didn't think it was possible, but somehow you managed to get closer to him. You pressed your breasts up against his chest and rested your chin the crook of his neck. He pushed the hair out of your face, revelling in your beauty.

In one swift motion, he pushed himself inside of you, desperate for some kind of release. You screamed, fingers digging into his tan skin. His back was strong and muscular and he held himself there, inside of you, warming his cock. You traced his back, enthralled in the way he was using his upper body strength to hold you up against the side of the tub.

"Move." you begged, pressing your lips into his shoulder blade. The Mandalorian groaned at your soft kisses. He hadn't felt such affection from anyone before. His hips moved slightly but his cock still filled inside of you, throbbing as your walls contracted around him. You bit down on his skin at the sensation. You loved how long and thick he was. You loved the way he filled you up. "Move." you repeated, but this time it was a cry of desperation.

The Mandalorian obeyed your order, slowly and somehow pushing himself deeper inside you. His cock curved and hit your sweet spot with every thrust. Fuck, he was good. You whined, rolling your hips and meeting his every thrust. 

"Stars, you're so tight," he cursed and you clenched around him once more. He was certain you'd milk him from his seed shortly.

"Mando, you don't have to be gentle. I need you to fuck me hard and fuck me fast." You whispered, your breath tingling his skin. He wasn't going to say no to that.

The Mandalorian increased his speed, and his thrusts became more erratic. As the oils of the thermal waters seeped into your cunt his actions became sloppier and he had to clutch onto you like he was afraid you'd break beneath him. The waters of the hot springs rolled over the edges of the tub and splashing noises, as well as your moans and his grunts echoed throughout the caves.

"I'm close," he warned. "Fuck. Your cunt is so soft. Ngh- feels so good around me."

"Mando," you wailed, your hands wrapped around his helmet for support as he continued to messily thrust into you. He lowered one hand under the water and found the bud of your clit, rubbing at it as he continued to fuck you. "Shit, don't stop that. I'm gonna cum."

"Yes baby," The Mandalorian growled. "Cum for me like a good girl."

The words spurred you off and you dropped your head back, your entire body shaking as he fucked you through your climax. Your walls clenched around his cock and he started twitching inside you. "Fuck!" he cried out, holding you by the shoulders.

"I'm safe," you gasped, as he continued to thrust deeper into you. "Please cum inside of me. Please."

"You take my cock so fucking good." He praised, his modulated voice echoing through the cave as his hips snapped into yours. His hands drop as he holds your lower back and the pressure feels sharp. He's rough, he's hard just like you had requested of him. You could feel every edge and vein of him as he slammed inside of you, groaning out your name with each savage thrust.

Before long, Din spills inside of you. And he was containing a load. You feel his sticky heat rope your and coat your walls as you yelp in pleasure. He stays inside of you, letting the cum bury deep within you before he softens and gently pulls out. You whine at the loss of his fullness, your eyes fluttering shut as he doubles back.

Both of you are a heaving panting mess, standing before each other in the hot springs. Your legs felt shaky, like he just fucked every last beam of life out of you. You grabbed onto the edge of the tub and pulled yourself up, letting the cool air dry your body.

The Mandalorian took another good look of your body and he felt himself get hard again. Fuck, no credits could amount to that experience. There was no way he could return you now. You were his to keep.

Permanent taglist:

@goth-topic​  @supernaturalgirl @phoenixhalliwell @ah-callie @luvzoria

[analviel]

TIM DRAKE IS NOT ROBIN

It just so happens when Tim was planning to find Dick, his parents suddenly call him to tell him that there's a party or an event or just something on the other side of the world he can attend with them.

Sometimes they do this and Tim always says yes. It's as rare as leap years. Meaning it has happened only three times in his life before. He agonized over it. But you know, Tim's just a kid and there's no guarantee he can actually do something about Batman and Nightwing. Besides, Batman's been managing -if you can call it that- this long, with Alfred by his side, who's words certainly weights more heavily than the neighbours kid. He can afford a couple of weeks away from Gotham. By that time, Batman probably would've gotten his head straight. He's a hero, he's like, really strong, if anyone can get through this... besides, Tim figures Superman or Wonder Woman will do something before he truly crosses the line, right? Why would a kid know better than real superheroes, right? They must just be waiting until they're really needed. Right? Even though Tim personally thinks they should've at the very least locked Batman up somewhere he can't harm anyone or himself if they can't convince Dick to go back to being Robin. They're heroes.

Tim really wants to spend time with his parents. But before he leaves, he sends letters to every place he thinks Dick may be. The Titans Towers, his apartment in Bludhaven, where he lives with Starfire, Haly's circus, even to houses of his friends heroes. (Tim is twelve/thirteen alright. And one that has maybe below average self-awareness and his letters were very polite even if the act itself might've been vaguely sort of threatening).

So Tim leaves Gotham to spend time with his parents. It's busy, his parents keep him busy, and he doesn't have much time to dedicate to the news from Gotham. And really, if this is how it always is, no wonder his parents don't always have attention to spare on their kid in Gotham. So many things to do, so many things to attend, so many people to meet, and even more sites to visit. And the fighting. Tim hadn't realize it was this bad and suddenly thinks that, you know, it might've been better if he did stay back home. He realizes his parents actually brought him with them because they think a kid will somehow... magically fix them...??? Tim doesn't know, adults can be stupid.

Eventually, they realize the wrong in their ways and sends Tim back when his presence proves ineffective. Tim comes back to the city burning.

Well, not literally, but sort of.

Parts of it are burning. But not the whole thing. That's something.

Batman has been missing. And looking into it, at his last appearance, Tim surmise he retained a heavy wound.

(Or he's dead, not like they'll reveal it to the city just to cause more chaos and panic.) Batman seems to be out of the field and that was what Tim wanted, before he would've crossed the line.

Only, thing is, he'd already revealed too much weakness. The Batsignal had been taken down after one too many close calls on the perps they pick up. And the violence only raised from there.

(The first month when Batman and Robin and Batgirl's absence started to become suspicious. The second month Batman is deep in his spiral of violence. The third month Tim follows him around and then makes plants to pick up Dick that doesn't come to fruition and then sends his letters and then leaves. Six weeks with his parents, a few days from and to Gotham, two weeks to get caught up with what happened in Gotham. Batman is out, recovering, resting, dying, who knows.

Five months was all it took for Gotham to go to hell. And all it took was one dead son.)

Spoiler rises.

Gotham has a new champion.

Tim regrets that he hadn't been able to help. Tim will help.

Tim has a new champion.

Spoiler has a fixation on Cluemaster. It's not that difficult to go from there.

As long as, one, you know who was giving the police the answers to Cluemaster's gimmick. And two, that you know there even is a new vigilante because Spoiler is not like Batman who beats perps and leave them on the sidewalk for the police to pick up.

For wearing an almost eyesearing purple costume, Spoiler prefers to keep in the shadows and if not for the time Tim had trailed after Batman's madness, he wouldn't have learned the streets enough to notice the hints.

Tim purchase a laptop, watch tutorials day in and day out, buys pieces from junkyards to fiddle with wires and boards, and leaves Stephanie Brown a gift on her windowsill with a purple ribbon. Tim greets Spoiler over the comms. He calls himself Asset.

(It is not well-thought out because Stephanie takes to calling the mystery person who snuck into her room and refuses to give anything about themselves out 'Ass'. Tim did not actually sneak into her room but sent a drone to drop off his gift. Steph doesn't budge.)

Tim is not yet good enough to hack into cameras around Gotham. He finds he's good with a computer but not that good, his real talent lies not in the software but in the wires and soldering iron and the tiny bug camera/audio he has Spoiler plant around Gotham. If he can't take other cameras, he'll make them. (Also in case someone more experienced at hacking than he is manages to get in the system, Tim has a self-destruct button just for that. Yes, Dr. Doofenshmirtz is a good role models for mad scientist wannabes.)

A week is all it takes for Spoiler and Asset to get all the necessary evidence against Cluemaster. They celebrate. They are thirteen year olds and they just prevented a bomb from going off and put a bad man behind bars. They are high. They find more cases, for the most part C-rank villains and bellow but they also help with the big names by Spoiler planting more cameras and Tim sending the data and feeds for her to drop off to Jim Gordon. He is the only one who knows of the characters that have risen after Batman's sleep and can guess enough from Spoiler's stiff shoulders to keep that to himself.

Then...

Then it is six months and two weeks.

Tim watch from his now multiple screen behind his walk-in closet as a grave is dug out from the inside. Because S&A have put cameras everywhere just in case. After all, it's places you think are of no interest that criminals will sought to make deals in.

Tim does not send his partner to what may be a zombie but instead tells her to clear the direction Jason is stumbling towards. It takes him minutes to realize that Jason is patrolling his Robin patrol. Jason is sent to the hospital and Tim contacts them to list him under the Drakes, paying for his room and every other necessities. Has him transferred to the hospital that Drake medical industries is personally funding. When asked the name, Tim says Alvin Draper. He gets a cab to the hospital, finds Jason knocked out, peers at Robin's face. It's when they're alone, the previously dead boy's hands wrapped in bandages that Tim confirms in disbelief that as far as he knows, the boy matches Jason Todd. As if him digging his way out of Jason Todd's grave wasn't enough. Granted, Tim doesn't even know the shade of his eyes, so he's not the best judge.... Tim snaps a picture from different angles of the room and takes another cab back to Bristol while thinking up a story.

Tim knocks on the neighbour, tells them he's got something of Jason and if he can see Mr. Wayne. Tim is surprised himself by how relieved he is to see Bruce standing alive and well. Or not standing, leg and arm in a cast, an IV beside him on the couch in the drawing room. Tim weaves his story. Little Tim Drake wandering around Gotham, stumbles on a bunch of medic picking up a boy that Tim recognises as the neighbour's dead kid, pays for his hospital bills, takes a couple of pictures after the first aid or whatever and gives Bruce the pictures. Bruce makes his way to the hospital.....

I've lost steam at this point.

You decide if they arrive to see Jason and Bruce and Alfred is all tearful while Tim awkwardly leaves the room to resume his brainstorming on the S&A latest case, or they find an empty bed and Bruce goes on a frenzy tracking his undead lost son.

Additional idea: So Tim not being there didn't kill Bruce, but Bruce has been crippled and Batman is dead now. So without Robin, Batman did die.

Maybe Dick comes back to become Batman with Jason as his Robin, since that's not a combination often seen (Or the Batman Jason and Robin Tim, that's more common, though I'm loath to give up Spoiler and Asset). Around this time Babs comes back to the scene as Oracle with the birds of prey.

Additional additional idea to how they'll work with everyone back on the scene: since the Bats have the fighters and more equipped to report to time sensitive stuff, maybe S&A focus more on cold cases. Where Spoiler goes sneaking around, poking at old cases with Asset in her ears, figuring out puzzles and old clues, making breakthrough after breakthrough and bringing long overdue justice together.

Either the Drakes dies without Batman there to slap the poison out of Jack's hands because he's too busy searching for his son, or maybe they live with Tim able to direct Batman there immediately. Either way, Drake industry sponsors S&A, so now Spoiler also has toys like the Spoil... er plane??? Spoiler bike??? Eh, the name's work in progress.

[thecryptidart1st]

In one of your posts you said that there were some songs you were gonna animate with some characters either from The Graveyard Shift or idk. Are there any animatics about that topic that you have started?

I have no animatics, but a butt ton of hyperphantasia, so this ask was an opportunity to draw out scenes that haunt my mind every day

For The Graveyard Shift in particular, I have ideas for the following songs (sorta in order from least to most unhinged and including spoilers for future TGS characters)

"Shit" by Bo Burnham

Probably most of Tom Cardy (Perception Check and Hey I Don't Work Here shown here)

"You Didn't Know" from Hazbin Hotel , bc Lute's line didn't need to go that hard but its burned into my memory at this point (also this animatic somehow evolved from its initial concept while working on this ask so now it's Rosemary and Gregory)

"We Don't Talk About Bruno", but Michael Afton is Bruno being talked by every other mascot horror because Sammy's looking for him

"Waiting In The Wings (Reprise)" from Tangled the Animated Series (this is actually the most serious bc it's actual character growth between Mike and Doug)

"Forklift Simulator" by Sbassbear (bc I base Mike's and Ethan's friendship and humor off of Game Grumps interactions)

and finally "Bring In the Love" by Dankmus, bc this stupid remix has been haunting me for the better part of half a year now and stupid sexy workout William won't leave me alone

[quiet-onset]

New Suit

Pairing: Sam Wilson x Black!Reader

Word Count: 3.8k+

A/N: it’s been forever since I’ve posted, but I have been writing since I was stuck at home with covid 😅 Hopefully I can post something else next week too! ANYWAYS, this fic does not have any TFAWS spoilers and (as usual) does not give a fuck about Endgame, meaning our favorite dysfunctional couple Tony and Steve are alive. Steve simply passed on the mantle. Enjoy!

So Sam was Captain America. And he was proud of that fact. 

The day that Steve decided to retire and give him one of his most prized possessions was a day Sam would never forget. A whirlwind of emotions had swelled in his chest. Shock, unworthiness, gratitude. But after talking it over with Steve — and surprisingly enough, with Bucky — Sam agreed to take in the role.

The thing was, no one knew yet. At least, no one outside of the Avengers facility.

Immediately after Thanos, there weren’t really any Avengers level threats. Most threats could be handled by one team member, and it was usually one of the newbies — Peter, Scott, even Wanda. That being so, Sam didn’t have much of a reason to even make public appearances. So he didn’t.

Sometimes, he’d stand in the training room, the red, white, and blue shield strapped to his arm, and just stare in the mirror. Something felt wrong. Out of place. Like the reflection before him was almost right, but he still couldn’t tell what was wrong. Tony had caught him one time as he stepped into the room, a sports bottle full of ice cold water in his hand. “Mid-life crisis?”

Sam jumped at his loud voice and almost scrambled to detach the shield from his arm, like a kid caught with his grubby little hand in the cookie jar. “My bad, I’ll just—“

“No no, keep it on.” Tony waved a hand. “I gave it to Steve, he gave it to you. It’s yours, no give backsies.”

Sam nodded but took the shield off anyway. He decided that he didn’t need to train anymore and headed toward the door. “I’m just gonna go put this back.”

“What is going on with you, Wilson?”

“What do you mean?”

Tony raised a brow, “What do I mean? You staying cooped up in this facility. Barely training with the shield. Opting out of assignments. That’s what I mean.”

“There’s not much of a need.”

“There is. You just don’t see it yet.” Tony walked toward him. “Look, I know being the new Cap has you freaked out—“

“I’m not freaked out.”

“Sure. But Steve chose you and that should be good enough.”

“It is.” Sam huffed as he turned the shield in his hands. “I don’t know, man. I just… It’s just hard to believe. Hard to put in action, I guess.”

“Well, seeing is believing.”

“What the hell are you talking about?”

“Head to room 626 when you get a chance.”

“What’s in room 626?”

“You’ll see.”

—

Sam exited the elevator on the sixth floor to loud muffled music. Looking around, he realized he’d never even been to that part of the facility before. The white walls and obscure art seemed strange and misplaced in a building full of superhumans. Too clean, too elegant. 

Each of the rooms seemed that way too. Sam paused in the hallway, glancing through some of the glass doors with people’s names painted neatly at the top. Hardwood floors and marble countertops in each room. So impeccably clean that even dust bunnies wouldn’t dare step foot inside. 

Yet, when Sam approached room 626, he realized this was where the loud music was coming from. Different from the other rooms, this one was messy and colorful. He slid the glass door open, flinching at loud volume. 

He recognized the track — his father used to listen to it all the time when he was growing up. He could almost hear his dad’s deep voice teasing him: “You don’t know nothin’ ‘bout this, son. This was before your time.” Of course Sam knew the song. His dad was the one who put him on. Still, Sam’s dad always got a kick out the playful fight he put up. 

The long, seemingly endless hallway was painted a blinding white. He could make out a peculiar smell as he walked toward the end of the hall. Wet paint or fumes, he wasn’t really sure. He just pulled his shirt over his nose and kept looking for… well only God really knew. 

Finally, he arrived in the main room and saw you and your controlled chaos. You had ten or twenty different fabrics pinned to one wall and sketches of different outfits pinned to the opposing one. Against the back wall were mannequins wearing your works in progress. And just in front of Sam on a large wooden desk were schematics and what looked like engineering tools. Soldering iron, wires, circuit boards, and the like.

Everything seemed like a tornado of colors, clothes, and fabric. But you? You were as cool as a cucumber with your expensive looking spray painting mask strapped on as you sprayed the back of a jean jacket with bright pink paint. Sam chuckled when he heard your muffled voice sing along to the song, not noticing his presence. “Sherry bay-yay-by. Sherry, wontcha come out tonight.”

Sam pulled his shirt back down with a small grin on his lips, debating whether he should disturb you. In the end, he decided to save you the embarrassment, but by then, you’d already moved on to the next verse. You dropped your voice down low in an attempt to sound just like Nick Massi, singing, “Why don’t you come on.”

Sam let out a loud laugh, only covering it with his hand as you jumped, finally realizing someone else was in the room. “Sorry.” Sam chuckled. “Didn’t mean to interrupt your concert.”

You pulled the mask over your head, revealing a nervous smile. You jogged to the desk and grabbed the remote to switch off the stereo. “Concert’s a flattering choice of words.”

“Well you were really nailing that Massi.”

You raised a brow as you set down the can of spray paint. “You listen to Four Seasons?”

“Growing up, it was a staple in the Wilson household.” He offered his hand. “I’m Sam, by the way.”

“Y/N.” You shook it, an impressed smile on your face. “So what can I do for you, Sam?”

“I’m actually not sure. Tony just kinda sent me up here.” He raised a brow when you gasped, amused with your excitement. He smiled as the cute squeal that pushed past your lips. “I assume you know what that means.”

“I’ve been asking him forever if I could design your new suit!”

“New suit?”

“I mean, if you’re okay with it.” You added.

“I just don’t see why I need a new suit is all.” Sam shrugged as he looked around at all your work. He knew, way deep down in the rational part of his consciousness, that he needed a new suit. There wasn’t anything wrong with his Falcon suit, but wearing a new suit seemed too definite. If he put on a new combat suit, it meant that he was fully stepping into this new role. That he would be Captain America in more than just name. People would look at him, at his suit, and recognize that he was the Captain America.

“How about this?” You stepped toward him, prepared to bargain. “Let me make you a suit. If you don’t like it, I’ll just give your Falcon suit an upgrade. Deal?”

He let out a nervous chuckle at your offer. He had nothing to lose, really. Either way, he got upgrades. Still, he looked over at you and decided he couldn’t be the one to snuff the ambitious look in your dark eyes. He shook your hand, smiling softly at the triumphant grin that broke across your face. “Deal.”

“Great!” You were bouncing on your toes when he agreed. You practically raced back to your desk and started shuffling through your sketches and until you found the folder you were searching for. You handed them to Sam, “You can come back tomorrow morning so I can take your measurements. Till then, look through these sketches and tell me what you like.”

“So you’ve been working on this for awhile?” Sam asked, briefly flipping through the many colorful sketches.

“Ever since Tony told me about you.”

He let out a breath of amusement through his nose. Of course it was Tony, trying to set things in motion before Sam was even sure of what he wanted. Still, he knew Tony was trying to help. Sam gestured with the folder. “I’ll take a look.”

“Cool. Tomorrow?”

“Tomorrow.”

— 

When Same woke up the next day, he found himself immediately thinking about meeting with you later. He felt weird. Nervous, even. Whether it was due to the idea of a new suit — of being Captain America — or seeing you, he wasn’t sure. All he knew was that he felt like a swarm of butterflies had flown from his stomach to his throat and decided to make a home there.

After stepping out of the shower, which took twenty more minutes than usual, he fumbled around for something to wear. What was he supposed to wear to fitting anyway? Sweats? Jeans? As his mind wandered, he thought of you. Rather, he thought of how you would see him. Maybe I should wear the green shirt, he thought. Girls always seem to like the green shirt.

He paused. Why was he thinking that?

He’d just met you. He knew a total of two facts about you: your name was Y/N and you listened to Four Seasons. That was hardly enough for Sam to be worried about how he looked for you. Yet, there he was, slipping on the dark green shirt that seemed to stretch ever so slightly across his broad chest. He settled on a pair of dark jeans before heading down to the kitchen for a cup of coffee.

As he stepped into the communal kitchen, Bucky was already sitting at the island, back facing Sam. He had just returned from his daily run, still in his sweatpants and white T-shirt with a cup of coffee in front of him. “There’s still fresh coffee in the pot.” Bucky mumbled into his cup as he flipped to the next page of the newspaper.

“Thanks.” Sam walked past him, slapping the newspaper into Bucky’s face as he walked by. “Why are you reading a newspaper?”

“To keep up with the news. Like a normal person.”

“There are these great new things called cell phones. Most people read the news on those now.” 

“Well, I’m not most people, am I?” Bucky lowered the newspaper and furrowed his brow at the sight of Sam. “What girl are you trying to impress?”

“What are you talking about?”

“Green shirt.”

“What about it?”

“That’s your ‘I want a girl to like me’ shirt.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Sam scoffed as he poured a second cup of coffee. “This is just a shirt.”

“The shirt.”

“I’m not having this argument with you.”

“Not much of an argument when you know I’m right.” Bucky smirked. “Who’s the second cup for?”

Sam paused as he realized he’d been caught, but quickly recovered with an eye roll. “For me. So I don’t have to come back and hear your annoying ass voice.”

“Mhm. Tell the girl I said hi.” 

“Screw you.” Sam left the kitchen to the sound Bucky’s chuckles, reluctant to admit that he was right. Moments later, he was waiting for the elevator, tapping his shoe to distract himself from the butterflies that were starting to flutter around again. When the doors slid open, Tony briefly greeted Sam before stopping and pulling off his glasses. “Green shirt?”

Sam stepped past him. “Shut up.”

Every step closer to your workspace had him jittery. Not only was he forced to deal with these unfamiliar feelings for you — if that’s what they were — but he was finally being confronted with his new position. One step closer to replacing Steve. To being Captain America. Yet, he couldn’t deny, he could envision himself in some of the suits you had sketched for him. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad.

When he entered 626, there was loud music playing once again. Another old song he recognized, Van Morrison. He smiled at the thought of you dancing around your space again, singing along to Brown Eyed Girl. It wasn’t so much about him catching you in the act. It was nice, a privilege really, to see the natural you. Eyes closed, arms up, hips swaying. Seeing how you act when you believed no one was watching was like strangely endearing.

And there you were, almost matching his wandering thoughts to a tee. You were setting up for work, once again not noticing Sam’s arrival. You danced across the room as you moved things from place to place. You began to sing out the words as you prepared to lift your tri-fold mirror. Sam broke from the trance and called out your name. You jumped and placed a hand over your heart, laughing quietly when you saw it was only him. “Caught me again.”

“To be fair, you seem pretty easy to catch with the way you get lost in music.” Sam smiled, placing the coffee cups on your desk, far from any of your papers. “Let me get that for you.”

“Oh, you don’t have to—”

“It’s no problem. Just tell where you want it.”

You stepped away from the mirror, tossing a stray braid over your shoulder with a smile. “Just over there, in front of that pedestal. Thanks.” When he went to lift it, your eyes were drawn to his arms, watching his biceps flex. You caught yourself before you could begin to stare, heat rising to your cheeks as you went to look for your measuring tape.

“Oh, by the way, I brought you a cup of coffee.” Sam mentioned as he set the mirror down. “You know, if you drink it? I didn’t know what you put in it, if anything, so it’s black. Is that okay?”

“That’s perfect, actually.” You sighed happily. “I’ve been trying to replace coffee with loud music in the mornings, hence the dancing.”

“Of course.” He chuckled in response.

“And while I love to blast Morrison at nine in the morning, it’s not the same without a hot cup of coffee.” You took the cup he offered with a smile. “Thanks for thinking of me.”

Sam couldn’t help how his heart skipped a beat. “Don’t mention it.”

You took a sip, “So, you ready to get measured for your new suit?”

“As I’ll ever be.”

“Great, just step onto the pedestal for me, and relax.”

“Got it.”

It was quiet as you brought the tape measure under his arms and around his chest. It wasn’t exactly uncomfortable, but Sam was sure his nerves had to be radiating out of him. The butterflies were beating against his ribcage as you pulled just tight enough on the tape measure. You took note of the number and bent over to write it down on your notepad. Being so close to you, Sam felt himself tense up as you measured around his waist. You chuckled and looked up at him. “You gotta relax.”

“I’m relaxed.”

“If you don’t loosen up, your new suit is gonna be super tight in all the wrong places.” You joked. “Talking usually helps.”

“About what?”

“Anything.” You shrugged. “Like why are you so opposed to a new suit?”

Almost as if it was a reflex, Sam tensed up again with a nervous and playful chuckle. “Way to get me to relax.”

“I’m just saying.” You laughed, adjusting the tape once again. “It’s not like you’re not qualified. I mean, Steve chose you.”

“Yeah, he did. I wish it were that simple in my mind.” He admitted.

“What’s your mind saying?”

“What isn’t it saying?” Sam rolled his eyes at himself. “It’s just… I don’t know.”

“Yes, you do.”

“I don’t want to put that on you. That’s not your job.”

“It’s not.” You agreed with a chuckle. “But that’s not why I asked. You can tell me.”

Again, with a wave of confusion, he felt the tension melt away. He didn’t know why he felt this way, like he could tell you anything and everything. There was a familiarity about you, like you were someone he’d known his entire life despite only meeting twenty hours ago. His father probably would’ve called you an old soul. Maybe in some other lifetime, in another universe, you knew each other. Or maybe, this was just fate coming to pass. Destiny finding, not two halves, but two wholes — putting them together like some sort of experiment to see what would come of it.

“It’s just… how am I supposed to follow after Steve?” He asked. “He has such a huge story, this legacy just hanging over my head. He’s been saving people since before either of us were born. And now here I am, some dude from the Air Force that met Steve completely by accident, about to take up his shield. It just seems unbelievable. Literally.”

You nodded as you measured around his left thigh. “First, let me say that your feelings are completely valid.”

“Why do I feel like you’re about to decimate everything I just said?”

“Not decimate!” You laughed. “Just gently prove wrong.”

“Oh, in that case.” He smiled down at you.

“Shut up.” You snapped him with the tape measure before measuring his other thigh. “Steve is not the only one with a story. I mean, Sam Wilson, the guy who grew up in Harlem, lost his parents and his best friend, and still managed to not give up? The guy Steve Rogers trusted with his life almost immediately after meeting him? The same dude who stole a top secret government project and used it to become a superhero? I think that’s pretty badass.”

Sam considered your words with a small smile. Sure, he may have seemed normal — maybe even mundane — to himself, but the fact is that he had also been through a lot. Just like Steve, Sam realized that his life was no walk in the park. Not many people couldn’t have lived Sam’s life and come out the other side not just okay but strong. He wasn’t Steve Rogers, but that didn’t matter. He was Sam Wilson, and maybe that was okay. 

“You’re good at that.” He commented quietly, looking down at you. He just about caught himself staring at you. The bright smile across your ruby shaded lips, the almost childlike excitement in your eyes. And your eyes — jesus. They were the same color as his, a dark brown. Yet, he couldn’t help but find yours so much more interesting.

“At what?”

“Talking to people.”

“Not everyone. Just...” You shook your head as you stood up straight. There was something indecipherable in his eyes — or maybe you wanted to believe it was. Still, it was there. Admiration, confusion, gratefulness? You weren’t sure. But the intensity of his stare made heat spread across your cheeks one more, and you ducked your head, moving to the side to measure the length of his arm. “Just people like you.”

Minutes later, you finished his measurement and moved on to the designs. You and Sam went through each and every one, noting his likes and dislikes. As time went on, it became very apparent that he was ready to be Captain America. Even if he wasn’t sure yet, you were. Much too soon, every detail of his new suit was planned out, and it was time for Sam to go. 

“If I make this my top priority, I can have your new suit finished in two weeks, tops.”

“You don’t have to do that.” Sam said bashfully. “I’m sure you have other work to do.”

“None as exciting or as important.”

“Now you’re just stroking my ego.” He joked.

You scoffed painfully, “Like you need me to do that.”

You walked beside him, down the hall and to the elevator. He couldn’t help but wish he had some sort of excuse to stay, but leading the Avengers meant a mountain of responsibilities. Still, he wanted to see you again. Not for work and not for designing a new suit. He wanted to get to know you away from the fabric and tape measures. He wanted to find out how someone as sweet and breathtaking as you could even exist in a world filled with such evil left and right. So, he rocked back and forth for a moment before turning to you. 

“And um, Y/N?”

“Yes?”

Sam fully intended to ask you out just then. But he felt like he couldn’t move. A feeling of nervousness he hadn’t gotten since he was a teenager, he was frozen. Staring at you like a deer in headlights, his brain screamed at him: Just ask her, you dumbass! Then, the elevator announced its arrival with a ding and broke his concentration. He cleared his throat and smiled nervously. “Thank you again. You’ve been a huge help.”

You blinked in confusion but stammered out, “Glad to be of service.”

It wasn’t until a few days later that Sam had gained the courage to do what he should’ve done in that moment. 

The city was in danger — some high-level Hydra threat — and the Avengers were needed. Everyone rushed off to suit up, including Sam. That’s when he saw it. You had just finished his suit, and it was more than Sam could’ve ever imagined. A shiny white breastplate with red decals on the torso, blue pants lined with bulletproof material, and to top it off, his signature red wings. That was something he wanted to keep. They reminded him of his humble beginnings, of what made him the man that Steve chose to be Captain America. 

And Captain America he was. 

Sam was aware of all the stares he got as he fought the Hydra agents and ended the crisis with the rest of the team. He knew it would take some getting used to. But he was pretty sure — no, extremely sure that he could do this. He could be the symbol that the public needed. 

He strolled back into the Avengers Complex, handing a handcuffed Hydra agent off to be questioned, when he saw you. You were usually there waiting, ready for feedback on your new toys and inventions. But what Sam said surprised you. 

“Hey Sam,” You started. “Did your new suit fare well? I was already thinking of some modifications based on —“

“Would you like to go out with me this Saturday?”

You blinked, lowering your clipboard in shock. “What?”

“Would you like to have dinner with me on Saturday?” He smiled wide and unabashedly. Then, with no hesitation, you smacked him on the arm with your clipboard, making him bark out a laugh. 

“Took you long enough.”

[cowkitty]

I decided to keep the electronics super simple for this quick proof of concept test. Instead of a #neopixel + #arduino, I’m just using a flickering LED. I did go ahead and solder my usual wire connectors so I can swap in something different later (and to also test how much room I’ve got to work with in there. Spoilers: not much. XD) #starwars #customlightsaber #lightsaber #galaxysedge #batuu #blackspireoutpost #savisworkshop #dokondars #legacylightsabers #starwarsmerch #drillBabyDrill #princessleia #jedileia #lukeskywalker #electronics #arduino #led #pinout #vector #cad #3dmodeling #makerbot #3dprinting #soldering https://www.instagram.com/p/CP1YtltLId-/?utm_medium=tumblr

[jamiebluewind]

Misunderstandings

OC Perspective (Lyric)

Word Count: 1466

Notes: nonbinary character (Lyric), transmale character (Aultho), occasional use of fantasy language (elvish)

Characters: Lyric (original character), Aultho (original character), and Fabian (mentioned)

Warnings: bigotry, fantasy based racism, violence mention (please message me if I missed any)

Ships: None

Spoilers: Fantasy High Season 1 (minor)

Summary: Aultho had a bad day at work (due to a particular half-elf). His sibling Lyric tries to help.

Takes place after the bonus comic for Fabian's Gifts.

Requested by @rizbian

****

Lyric sat in their room tinkering with a new crystal array. Normally they would be in bed already, but their brother had messaged them from work saying that he would be home late. It meant one of two things; he either had a big last minute order or he had stuck his foot in his mouth again.

While soldering a few stray wires on their latest project, they heard their brother slam the door, followed by a loud "Vyshaana darrdartha biir!" Yeah. That was never a good sign. They put their tools away and headed towards the sounds of angry sun elf.

They leaned against the doorway to the kitchen, eyeing Aultho. He was facing away from them, searched for something in the upper cupboards. "I'm guessing your evening went well," they said with a smirk.

"Not now Lyric," he replied flatly without turning around. Uh-oh. This was bad.

Lyric reached out and placed a hand on their brother's shoulder. He was tense. The twins stood like this for a moment as Lyric's thumb made soft circles on the other's shoulder. Finally, Aultho's shoulders slumped with a sigh as he turned his head. A deep bruise blossomed across his jaw and he had the beginnings of a black eye. "Seldarine!" they exclaimed. "What... how... go sit. I'll bring some ice and healing aid."

A halfhearted smile appeared on Aultho's face as he shook his head. "Gys sa salen?" he said more like a question than a demand as he nodded towards the liquor.

"Sure," Lyric replied. "Elven wine or something harder?"

"Whichever you grab first," he answered as he walked towards the small livingroom.

Lyric poured up two drinks, sending a small machine to grab the healing aid while they got the rest. They pulled a coldpack out of storage and activated it with a tap before pressing it between their body and arm so they would have two free hands for the glasses. By the time they walk into the livingroom and sat the glasses down, the machine had returned, healing aid in hand.

Aultho glanced and the tin. "I only asked for a drink," he said. It was an absentminded observation, the kind he often made that got him in the most trouble.

"And I brought you something that will actually do some good," they replied. They dipped their fingers in the magic infused balm and applied a thin coat to his face. They made a mental note to make more for him to keep at work. Aultho would have never let them see him like this if he had any left.

Slowly, the balm did it's job as the scraps knitted themselves back together, the harsh bruise faded to a softer hue, and the swelling became less pronounced. "Thank you," Aultho said with a sigh. Lyric wordlessly ploped the coldpack in his hand before taking their seat. Aultho placed the pack on the sore area and sighed again before reaching over to grab his drink.

Lyric gave him a few rare moments of silence to collect his thoughts. They were going to find out what happened of course, but Aultho looked so drained that they decided he needed a little more time than normal. It wasn't the first time he had come home like this since they fled to Solace. In fact, when the twins first arrived it had been almost a daily occurrence! Lyric had gotten in their fair share of stupid fights too - especially those first couple months - but they had adapted and found friends that helped them understand. All Aultho had was Lyric, a prickly exterior, and a strong aversion to admitting when he needed help.

Lyric was about to start prodding when a heavy sigh came from Aultho. "I really have no idea how I pissed this one off," he said. His head was leaned back and his eyes were closed. "The gods damned biir."

"Did you call him a biir?" Lyric asked. Serious or no, they could never resist getting cheeky with their brother.

Aultho leaned up to roll his eyes at them, only to stop with a flinch and an "ow". He looked like he had a headache coming on. "I haven't been that stupid since the second month we arrived here," he replied.

"And yet-" they started

"I know," he said. "It still comes out sometimes when I'm mad. Apologies."

They reached out and patted his leg. At least he was trying.

"I was about to close shop when a customer came in," he said, looking at his sibling. "Tall. Loud. Probably half-elf or human. Wearing one of those stupid school sports coats..."

They furrowed their brow. "Letterman jacket?" they guessed.

"Yes!" he said. "That's it."

"So probably in high school or college?" they asked.

He nodded and then seemed to immediately regret it. "Yes," he answered. "That sounds about right.  A real gabreth. He banged on the counter, demanding a small briefcase. I suggested he make it a briefcase of holding. Then he punched me, yanked me up by my collar, said he wanted the feature while threatening me, requested initials, and then said he would be back in two hours to pick it up!"

They stared. "That's... how could that even be done," they asked.

"Not easily," he answered. "I luckily had a small black briefcase already made plus several scrolls on hand to help with the magic and lettering, but it was close." He winced. "Too close. I half expected him to punch me again once I explained that the magic had to settle for a couple weeks before the holding feature he requested would work, but he seemed quite happy with it." A humorless laugh came out. "Even gave me a tip."

Lyric breathed out heavily and sunk into their seat. "Wow," they said. They blinked a few times, trying to figure out what to do next. "Okay. Lets go through EXACTLY what you said. Because this is either a learning moment for you or a perfect time for me to test out my battle tech."

This got a real laugh out of him. "Okay," he answered. "Let's see..." He scewed his face in thought. "I think he said 'I demand a goblin sized leather briefcase.' I told him it would be a tiny thing and turning it into a briefcase of holding would give the goblin a lot more space to store the shiny things they stole. Then he punched me and-"

"Wait," they said, holding up a hand. Lyric was pretty sure their brain quit working for a second there and was desperately trying to catch up. "Did you actually tell this person... that goblins are thieves who like shiny things?"

A pause. His eyes widened. "...yes?" he answered, drawing out the eh sound.

Oh dear gods their brother could be an idiot sometimes. "Al," they said. "You can't... that's month four stuff!"

"But just last week someone told me..." He stopped and closed his eyes as he breathed out, defeated. "Mhaor kiira," he whispered.

"Hey," they said, taking their brother's hand, "whoever told you that was the asshole here. It's not your fault. Not completely anyway." It was hard enough for Aultho to sort through the lies and truthes without some idiot making it harder on him. Unfortunately, their brother was an accidental bigot magnet.

"Maethe," he said solemnly, "but I am still the fool falling for their false truthes after nearly a year."

They glared at him. "I will fight you ya know?" they replied. "I have a pile of battle tech ready to unleash at a moment's notice."

He raised an eyebrow. "Is it beside the pile of gay stuff?" he asked.

"My dearest brother," they answered with a hand to their chest, "Everything I own is gay stuff. You have to be more specific." They punctuated it with a wink.

He chuckled softly. "I should have realized," he replied. He looked at them with a genuine smile now that reached his eyes. "We should probably prepare for bed," he said suddenly as he stood up and stretched. "Would you mind if I borrowed your mini crystal while I trance? I might need a refresher."

Lyric smiled brightly at him. It was the first time he had asked for the mini crystal instead of having it pushed on him. Progress. "Sure," they answered with a nod as they unclipped the purplish pink crystal and handed it to him. "No problem." They made a mental note to get him one of his own that they could update regularly.

He looked down at the crystal now cradled in his hands. "Thank you," he said with a soft smile before turning to walk away. "Goodnight, Syolkiir," he said over his shoulder as he went into his room.

"Goodnight, Quinpah," they answered. "Love you too."

~~~~~~

Elvish Words Used

Aul: in

Tho: truth

Vyshaana: vile curse or an insult (reference to the Vyshaan clan of sun elves).

Darrdartha: foamjaws, rabies

Biir: garbage, used as an insult against half-elves or those of human heritage

Seldarine!: Gods! (expression of exasperation)

Gys Sa Salen: Give Me a Drink/I Need A Drink

Gabreth: untrustworthy, likely to turn on you, cruel in battle (dangerous/vicious)

Mhaor: corrupt/corruption

Kiir: gem (plural is kiira)

Maethe: perhaps

Syolkiir: wild star/gem (meteor)

Quinpah: a type of elvish bread/pastry

[starfleetdoesntfirefirst]

Teen & Up | 1,376 words | No Archive Warnings Apply

Characters: Jett Reno, Michael Burnham, Christopher Pike, Tracy Pollard, Jett Reno's Wife, Paul Stamets

Additional Tags: Spoilers, Season 2 Episode 12 "Through the Valley of Shadows," War, Implied/Referenced Injury, Fix-It, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Technically COULD be canon-compliant if this happens offscreen post-ep, Jett Reno's Wife Lives

Jett is halfway inside a control panel, squinting at the wiring through the magnifier held in her left hand as she fiddles with the soldered-on staple holding the cluster of wires together with her right, when her communicator crackles, “Burnham to Reno.”

Another quickly-written fix-it fic—apologies for typos! This is really just a written-out first scene from the series of Jett’s Wife Lives headcanons I posted to Tumblr the other day. I would love to continue this at some point, but I’m not sure when I’ll have time, so I’m calling it a completed work for now! <3