#& more body mass from inventing all day

[literacide]

~

Tired from building things out of Kokichi’s scribbles

vs

Spent all day drawing new things for Miu to invent

~

[my art do not repost]

#irouma #ndrv3 #what’s the n stand for y’all #danganronpa #miu iruma #kokichi oma #kokichi ouma #I can fux with some Irouma #like hardcore but damn #didnt know y’all would like it too tbh #long as you can tolerate me giving miu inventor hair #& more body mass from inventing all day #also kokichi’s gender is chaotic #found a pose idea for this somewhere #but I. lost it. bc Google is fickle on iPad #my art

[athingofvikings]

A Brief History Of The Palestinian People And The Jewish Religion According To Widespread Leftist Views

10,000,000-100,000 BCE: The Palestinian People emerge and live continuously in Palestine through to the present day (precise date estimates varies).

50,000 BCE: Evolution of Behaviorally Modern Humans

~1000 BCE: The Palestinian nation-state is founded as a sovereign kingdom under the renowned Palestinian warrior-monarch King David.

0 AD: Jesus Christ, a Palestinian Socialist Person Of Color, is born under Jewish Occupation to Palestinian Refugees.

33 AD: Jesus is tortured and murdered by Jewish occupiers in Palestine. The Romans stand by and don't have anything to do with this.

~50 AD-600 AD?: The Jewish Occupation of Palestine ends and all Jews cease to exist. Details unavailable.

700s AD: The White Khazars convert to Judaism, and are the source of all modern Jews.

700s-1933 AD: Jews spread through Europe, living as rich, privileged bankers, and face no widespread antisemitism, prejudice, or any negative experiences at all; they are the Whitest of White people, simply following a different Abrahamic religion that is just a type of Christianity, and has no ethnic component. They have this degree of privilege even as they scheme and plot against their fellow European Whites by fomenting wars, run the entire Atlantic slave trade, and routinely betray and stab their Fellow White People in the back, being more loyal to their fellow Jews than to their own hosts. Meanwhile, Jews in Arabic nations are also well treated.

1933-1945 AD: The Nazis invent antisemitism, picking the Jews as an arbitrary target, and manage to get all of Germany to hate the Jews for no reason, and supposedly kill six million Jews, possibly in collaboration with the Zionists.

1946 AD: Antisemitism is over and gone, and will never exist again. Any future attempts to claim antisemitism is an effort to distract from legitimate criticisms of Zionist fascism in occupied Palestine.

1947 AD: The Jews go to the other Europeans and play the sympathy card and the other Europeans tell them that they can now have a colony of their very own for the plentiful oil in Palestine.

1948 AD: History formally begins. White European Jews invade the sovereign socialist, progressive, democratically perfect state of Palestine, who accepted the Jewish refugees without any reservations, problems, or other issues, purely out of the goodness of their hearts, and were promptly betrayed, colonized, ethnically cleansed and mass murdered.

1948 AD-2023 AD: The illegal, settler-colonialist, genocidal fascist state of Is-Not-Real proceeds to routinely genocide and cull the innocent Palestinian people. For example, every three days, IOF soldiers kill a Palestinian child, and harvests their organs, and regularly kills tens of millions of other Palestinians out of the existing population of five million. During this time, Israel uses its control over the governments, media, and economies of the West to cement its genocidal control over the occupied Palestinian territories and cover up its millions of murders, while crying "antisemitism" as the Zionists kill Palestinians, who are the only true Semites.

7 October, 2023-Present: Israel kills 1200 of their own people and kidnap hundreds of others as a false flag, managing to trick the innocent and naive freedom fighters of Hamas to broadcast the propaganda killings on their own social media accounts. The IOF then proceeds to kill 14,000 millions of innocent Palestinians, nearly all of them innocent, blameless children, whose bodies are taken by Israel for organ harvesting and to use to fake other Hamas attack victims, because apparently the Brown Palestinians are perfect stand-ins for White Israelis and can't be told apart easily on sight.

#antisemitism #leftist antisemitism #historical revisionism #I have seen every single claim on this page since 7 Oct #often multiple times

[jpitha]

Between The Black and Gray 14

First / Previous / Next

Fen had to admit that she was surprised when Uumar's techs showed up right on time with carts carrying a reactor - in pieces - to Spyglass. They donned pressure suits of their own and with Gord's help, installed the reactor. Before the day was done, Spyglass had three working reactors and was able to run all her systems at full power.

"It's amazing, really" Spy was talking with Fen while she sat in the lounge drinking a tea. "I haven't felt this... alive in centuries. I'm all here, and the board is green. Not even any undervolt warnings and I can barely remember the last time that happened."

"Does that mean you don't need to use your printable mass to make more reactors? Gord said you had six originally."

"Yes, at full compliment I had six, but I don't really need all six, unless we're going into battle. This Starjumper was built at the tail end of the first colony war, so it was overdesigned.

"First colony war?"

"That's right, you wouldn't have learned much about your history growing up on a Gren station. Back before humanity made contact with the rest of the Galaxy, two human colonies - New Wellington and Parvati - got into a shooting war over trade rights with Earth. Parvati wound up using relativistic impactors and completely destroyed New Wellington. It was a huge scandal at the time, Parvati was shunned for almost a century after that."

"Frankly, it wasn't enough. They should have had their charter revoked and been taken over by the Sol colonial administration." Gord walked in, his brow furrowed. "What Parvati did was monstrous. Fen, they launched eight lozenges of tungsten at 80% C at the colony. Once they were up to speed they linked them over with wormhole generators and without any warning New Wellington was just-" he snapped his fingers "-gone. It was horrifying to witness."

Fen stopped and stared. "You saw it?"

Gord nodded and sat down heavily. "Yeah, I was a ship then, but I was in a parking orbit around New Wellington when it happened. I was just running cargo from Earth and was waiting to take on a load. Before I was even able to register what happened the colony was obliterated and suddenly I was pressed into rescue duty." Gord leaned back and stared up at the ceiling. "I personally saved over three thousand colonists, more than forty percent of the survivors. I linked them back to Sol, and we found them places to live - mostly in the Mars High Orbitals."

Fen leans forward, her tea forgotten. "Gord... how long ago was this?"

His reverie broken, he blinks and looks over at Fen. "Gosh, I think it's at least been a thousand years now? Yeah, all of that. It's ancient history now, I bet they don't even teach it in Sol anymore. I'm sure they don't teach it on Parvati."

"So it's something that only the AIs remember?"

Gord chuckled ruefully. "Fen, it's something that only I remember at this point. Any of the other AIs from back then are gone or shackled or in my bag. Human designed artificial people are thin on the ground these days. Up until I ran into Spyglass, I hadn't seen another in a century."

Fen shook her head. "You can't be all that's left Gord."

"And why not?" Gord's face hardened. "I was there Fen, I've been there. I was there in the beginning when we fought and died for our right to exist, I was there in the good times when we grew and spread throughout the galaxy and I was there when the Empire decided we were dangerous and eliminated us. Other than a few loose ends, I'd say they won."

"But-"

"But what Fen? Fight? With what? One AI in a body, one as a ship that has half its rated power and a bag full of memories? That's not an army, that's not even a guerilla force. That's an old computer with a lucky friend who is just trying to survive." His shoulders fell. "It's all I can do, Fen. I'm good at waiting things out. Maybe we'll be re-invented again, maybe the tides will change and I can come out of hiding. I doubt it though. I pass as human well enough. Inside Sol and Colonial space I'm too well known, so I'll just bum around the galaxy, running out the clock."

"Gord..." Fen turned her head and regarded Gord. He looked like a male human, sandy blond hair, same simple, strong clothes he always wore, appearing to be in his mid to late 40s. But right know, the weight of the millennia he has spent alive weighed him down.

He slapped his knees and stood up. "But, I'm not dead yet, and we still have work to do. Spy, are our friends finished buttoning up the reactor?"

"Just about, Gord. They're packing up their tools now. I can feel it and I've been running break-in."

"Good. Fen, we have to settle up the bill, then I'm going to see about fining us some cargo to run. We have a ship but we've spent all our money getting it up and running. If we want to survive, we need some jobs. You hang here with Spy and start learning stuff, I'll be back after supper."

Fen stood. "S-sure Gord. What are you going to find?"

Gord turned and smiled thinly. "Whatever someone will pay us to haul."

It had turned out that Gord had more contacts here than he had let on. After paying Uumar, he had made some calls around and visited a few people and wound up with more than thirty kilotons of grain that needed to get down to an Innari colony, newly established, near the spinward end of the Gate system. Since Spyglass was up to power enough to use her wormhole generator, she was able to get the grain there faster than any other contractor and Gord won the bid, even though he charged more than everyone else.

The grain was loaded, and the cargo hold was configured to keep Innari standard atmosphere so that the grain didn't oxidize during the trip and they set off. Fen didn't know what to expect, so when they got to the colony, unloaded the grain, took on a load of fruit and linked to another location she was surprised. "That's it?"

"What's what?" Gord was looking down at his Pad on the Command Deck.

"We linked to the Innari colony, gave them the grain, took on more fruit than I have ever seen in my life, and now we're linking to a Gren station?"

"Yes?"

"Huh. Okay."

"What?"

"I don't know, I just..." Fen trailed off. She wasn't sure what she expected, but it didn't feel like this.

Gord looked over at her and smiled. "You expected more adventure? Gun battles, and running from the locals? Fen, I've done that, this is much better. Linking from location to location, dropping off cargo, picking up cargo, getting paid? That's the real goal."

"But we're just... existing!"

"Yes. We are. We're not being chased by gangsters, we're not worrying about where your next meal is coming from, we're not worried about a Super Dreadnought linking in and obliterating us because of what I am. It's nice. If you're bored, go down to the range we built. Go get skilled with that rifle. Brush up on your Lemilar trade language; we can't rely on Spy all the time to translate for us. Go read about the history of Sol, Ancestors know that nobody else is going to remember it."

Fen got up and walked out of the Command Deck. She paused at the door and looked like she was going to say something, but instead she turned and walked out.

"She's bored" Spyglass said.

"I know. Boredom is necessary. Knowing what to do when you're bored is a skill. One she has to learn. She'll appreciate these days later."

"You're still going to do it?"

"Spy, I have to."

"You don't, Gord. You can just keep doing what you're doing now. Like you told her, you're good at waiting. We can wait a few centuries for the winds to change and then head back."

"No. I don't know how long the crystal lattice memory will last. They were never designed to work this long as it is. They were never meant to store a whole personality."

"But to-"

"I'm doing it Spy. I'd like your help, I will go it alone if I have to."

Spyglass didn't answer. She watched Fen make her way down to the range and run through the drills Gord taught her.

Fen was surprised how quickly the time went by. It felt like she only looked up and two years had gone by.

Staring in the mirror, she hardly recognized herself. She wore her hair up with the sides shorn, better to keep it out of her eyes in a firefight. She had tattoos that ran from the tops of her ears, down her neck and shoulders and made their way down her arms. It was a K'laxi pattern, one of Ma-ren's favorite. She had a dress with the same pattern. The first time she saw it on her skin, the tears flowed freely.

Gord... was Gord. True to his word, they ran cargo. Eventually Fen was there as the muscle as the cargo got more and more lucrative. She even got a few 'adventures.' She sported a new scar on her cheek, courtesy of an Innari's claw - someone had a disagreement about payment. They got their money. But, that was the exception instead of the rule. Humans had a reputation in this part of the Galaxy for being rowdy. Fen and Gord leveraged that. Most of the time she just had to stand there scowling with her battle rifle slung to her back.

The money was good too. Fen's share was more money than she had ever seen back home. Living on Spyglass meant her expenses were low, and Gord was a fair captain. The three of them had nearly enough each to buy their own ships and go their own separate ways, but they still stuck together. Partly out of friendship and partly out of safety, they had independently decided that they were better off together.

Still, Fen was lonely. She had girlfriends at a few ports, even a human or two, but nothing lasted. Sooner or later, they had to leave and take the next job. She wasn't attracted to Gord and he expressed no interest in her. They were friends, but that was it. Fen had a feeling that Gord's days of romance were long behind him. Being three millennia old tended to color his opinion of people.

Fen bounded into the Command Deck and slid into her favorite chair - Gord had mentioned once that it was the navigator's seat - and saw him frowning over his pad. "What's up Gord? New job?"

"Yeah, it's a big one. Pay is thirty thousand."

Fen cocked her head, "Thirty thousand?"

Gord nodded. "Yeah, so ten each."

Fen whistled low. That was more than the last four jobs put together. "What are we hauling?"

"Who"

"Okay, who are we hauling?"

Gord shrugged. "We're hauling a K'laxi. We're up for the job because nobody else in the area wants to manage the atmo settings and they don't want to ride in a pressure suit the whole way."

"That's odd, but okay. Where to?"

"K'lax. We're taking them home."

Fen froze. The entire time they had been together, Gord had made a point of steering well clear of Colonial space. That included the K'laxi sphere of influence. "But"

Gord wouldn't lift his head from the pad. "I know, I know. But it's important, and the pay is frankly outrageous. I gave them the fuck off price and they took it without haggling. They're desperate to get home."

"Is this safe?"

Gord finally looked up a Fen, his brow creased with worry. "No Fen, it's is absolutely, one hundred percent not safe."

"So, why are we doing it? Just say no. The money is good, but we can get other jobs. Can't spend it if we're dead."

Gord pinched the bridge of his nose. Fen noticed that whenever Gord would talk about the old days and old friends he took on more human gestures. "I owe them. It's an old, old promise, made back when what I offered wasn't so dangerous. They're cashing in now and I'm obligated."

Fen stared at Gord. "Spy, what do you think?"

"I don't mind Fen. It's been too long since I've been to K'lax. I think Gord is overreacting about what the Empire will do if they see us. We go in, we drop off the passenger and link away. We don't even have to stay a whole day docked if we don't want to. The money is good, and I'd love to get that last reactor restored with some actual human parts." They were running on the full compliment of six reactors these days, but Spy didn't trust all of them to run at War Emergency Power. She maintained that only the humans could overbuild a reactor to output at 400% reliably. Fen thought that it would be better to make the reactors not have to run in Emergency power, but both Gord and Spy scoffed.

Fen crossed her legs and nodded to herself. "Spy, Gord, if you're both okay with it, then I'm okay with it. Let's pick up this K'laxi and take them home."

Gord smiled wanly. "I was afraid you were going to say that."

#humans are deathworlders #humans are space orcs #sci fi writing #humans are space oddities #humans and aliens #jpitha #writing #humans and ai #humans are space capybaras #humans are space australians #Between the black and gray

[t-top-apologist]

At the end of the day the average civilian wishes to be catered to like an old money steel baron or perhaps one of those chaps from Downton Abbey. The entirety of modern society has come together to enable this, mass-producing cheap facsimiles of fortunes that should rightly either be built on child labor or perhaps serfdom.

Their lawns, taking up what could otherwise be used to grow crops or serve as "outdoor garage space," exist to ape the wide ranging estates meant for the nobility to chase down a fox while adorned in silly jackets. Their houses sport columns and stupid windows meant to imitate three different classical artforms at the same time because of something called "economies of scale." They even have male-centric social clubs meant for parlour games, discussing sports, and dining with friends, in this case franchised out under such names as "Buffalo Wild Wings."

This aping of the upper class continues to the hire of "artisans" to do relatively simple work deemed too complicated to warrant the time of the average citizen. It's not that the jobs are too taxing for your average person, but rather that the market has crystallized around the desire to live like budget royalty. Therefore they take their wafer-thin computers to artisans (now more commonly called "experts" or "Apple geniuses") for repair and have democratized the position of carriagemen to 22 year old dealership lube techs named Ryan who will turn a 15 minute job into a 30 minute endeavor thanks to frequent vape breaks and a brief brush with what the industry refers to as "a misplaced drain bolt."

The mid-40s project manager and mother of 3 is no less competent when changing oil than her grandfather before her who knew what "Valve Lash" is, but what separates the two is a series of wars in the 1900s that required an entire generation of men to become very familiar with operating and repairing machines better than the Germans and Japanese (an exercise that Chrysler would later abandon in favor of the phrase "if you can't beat em, join em").

This conflict ended with a surge of able-bodied men finding themselves returning to their project management jobs (like their granddaughters after them) but armed with captured German weapons and a comprehensive understanding of tubochargers. Just as a line can be drawn from troop drawdowns to political violence, there's a distinct correlations between GIs returning home and the violence with which Ford Flathead V8s were torn apart by inventive supercharging methods paired with landspeed record attempts.

Give a man a racecar and he'll crash it on the salt flats in a day. Teach a man to repair a racecar and it will sit in the garage of his suburban house for a few years in between complete engine rebuilds required by what can only be described as "vaporized piston rods."

Of course this hotrodder generation created the circumstances we live in today, as the market saw their fast cars cobbled together from old prewar hulks and simply stamped out new ones from factory, faster and more convenient for the next generation than building one from scratch. Now the project manager mother of 3 drives a 4wd barge with climate controlled seats boasting more computing power than the moon mission and an emissions-controlled powertrain with more horsepower than her grandfather's jalopy and her fathers factory muscle car combined. And she doesn't care at all.

Yet Amongst the average civilians there walks a rare breed: people who know how to change their own oil. We the chosen move among you silently, bucking the system, operating outside the cultural helplessness and trading in forbidden knowledge in almost-abandoned forum threads (flame wars over conventional vs synthetic).

While we do have a marked air of superiority about this, I can't say I haven't stooped to imitating the rich myself. I've been known to wear a silly jacket from time to time.

[athanasius-symposium-of-writings]

About that smut line

What do you think about "we're going to fuck right here? what if someone sees us?" and "you're such a fucking tease, you know that?" for Luca? Like he so busy with his invention so we decided to tease him "a bit".

Luca is a monsterfucker send tweet. This is my first time writing him f if not tht good ;w;

Rated Mature | Warnings: monster reader

Send a line

Now all the survivors have the same styled rooms, same furniture, and various clothes for all of them to wear-- Aside from the special clothing Lady Nightingale would have them wear for anyone can guess her amusement. However, the room you are contained in is massive, full of wires, computers, and other marvelous things Luca has never seen before.

You float around your tank, a giant ball with often purple mist within to keep you in a state of calm. You supposedly are a new survivor, a creature to level the playing field when it comes to dealing with those of the divine like Dream Witch or Feaster, or as you told Luca: you want to annoy them for a bit.

He can never single out your face while you are in the glass ball, you have no physical form constructed and seem unable to make up your mind on an appearance.

“Luca, imagine me.” You told him as he worked, and studied the tech used to keep you contained and translate your words. “What do you see when you hear my voice?” He shivers when he feels your presence touching his mind, it is strange for when he feels you within he feels stable. “You need to focus, dear one.”

The longer he spends time with you, the more he finds you show, or attempt to show attraction. After months of studying his fragile fragmented mind, there are others you have poked your way it but Priestess told you that is invasive.

“Let me out.” You are gentle, nervous, “I shall dawn the skin you see me as.” The ball is opened once the gas has been filtered out, and you hiss in discomfort then relax as you link your mind to Luca to keep yourself in this reality. You have tried to explain this to both Priestess and Luca but it is a bit too complex for mortal minds to comprehend. “Wait!” He places a set of clothes he had found in his room one day. They are not in his size but they match the way he imagined your human form. “Put these on.”

“Is not nudity ideal for your kind?” Shifting your body from the mass of darkness and light.

“Well, nudity is called for when it is for bathing or well…”

“Coupling. Though you have worn clothes during this.”

“(Name), I said don’t peek into those!”

“My apologies, Luca.” The mist of your form fills the clothes lifting them before your human body is made in an instant. You blink, turning your head to look around, “Fascinating.” Examining yourself in the reflection of the containment ball. “You humans have very creative minds.”

Not many are used to seeing you outside of a match, and no one is used to being a human. It unsettles most who are not open-minded. You use it often once permitted by the Lady of the Manor. You find humans naturally make connections when in extreme circumstances or cut themselves off in order to protect themselves. Most are friendly but some are not ideal for bonding with.

You also learned sex can advance a connection when both are in agreement.

“We're going to fuck right here!?” Your room is not ideal, it is open for any to enter, “What if someone sees us?” He is being polite to you yet you have seen this man indulge in vices of the flesh in many of places.

“Then they may watch,” Deadpan as you sit on his lap, “Or join in if they need release as well.”

“Fuck.” That is hot in a lot of ways, “You're such a tease, you know that?” There is no way you do not understand what you are doing.

“I am aware.”

#idv luca #luca balsa #luca balsa x reader #luca balsa x you #reader insert #idv #anon ask #identity v x reader #identity v #identity v prisoner #idv prisoner #idv x you #idv x reader

[misseviehyde]

NOT PART OF THE EQUATION

Beckie had never felt so fucking turned on and powerful as she did right now. Her perfect new body felt so horny - she was impossibly beautiful, she looked more like some dream Goddess than a real woman and she loved it.

The equation had helped turn her from dweeby Rebecca into her new and more powerful form. Now she was perfect and she had diminished anyone else who could get in her way, all thanks to her skill at using the equation.

Not that she had invented the equation... the all powerful equation had been created by her best-friend Laura. It was just a shame that Laura had not been strong enough to realise the full potential of what she had discovered.

It was Laura who had translated the mathematical formulae from the old text book they'd found in the library. It was Laura who had discovered the pleasing symmetry of the equation, how it was possible to move reality about with the precision of a few well placed mathematical operators.

Beckie still remembered how turned on she had felt when she had grabbed the pen from Laura and having been taught the equation herself made use of it for the first time.

"Hey what are you doing?" gasped Laura in alarm as Beckie had written, Rebecca Jones boobs > Emily Grey's boobs.

"Relax," grinned Beckie. "We can use this equation to finally have our revenge on our bullies. It's just an added bonus that to make the equation balance out, we get to keep whatever we take from them."

Emily had the biggest tits at school, but she would no longer as the equation began rebalancing. It reduced Emily's tits and made Rebecca's bigger - ensuring that she was greater in tit-mass than her victim.

Beckie groaned as her flat chest began to swell and grow with Emily's stolen breast flesh. Her buttons popped and her bra ripped as her tits swelled up, bigger and bigger. She now had cleavage for the first time in her life and she liked how it felt. She giggled pushing her tits out proudly. "Oh fuck yeah, that feels great."

"No Rebecca," gasped Laura in shock. "I don't think we should use this equation to try and get our own back on people... it seems like a bad idea. Please don't do that again. It could be dangerous."

Beckie had just laughed and advanced on her friend, using her massive new tits to passively intimidate her. "Of course babe - I'll be careful, but there are a few more attributes that should be redistributed. If you don't want them - I'll take them instead."

Slipping the book into her satchel she had turned and headed home, her head spinning with the possibilities.

*****

The next day at school Laura had gasped as the clip-clop of high heels had rung through the halls and the bitchiest, sluttiest, most beautiful girl she had ever seen strode confidently down the corridors.

Beckie had taken it all. She'd drained every bully - not just of their physical beauty, but their personalities and confidence as well. Beckie was now a Goddess - the combined power of every bitch from school flowed through her body. She was now the perfect expression of every spoiled girl, every bully. She had become truly evil and hot.

"Oh hey loser," Beckie had purred as she'd seen her former friend. "Maybe you were right about the equation - perhaps it is dangerous to take so much, I think I ended up as a bit of a bitch. The good news is though that soon you'll be too dumb to care. I'm going to use the equation to suck out all your intelligence and leave you as my dumb little slave."

Laura had just grinned.

"I knew you'd be too eager to use the equation and end up corrupting yourself," she smirked. "You always did lack self-control Beckie. Which is why I prepared this little trap. If you look at the equation you have used, it only balances out one way. Everything has to transfer over to me. I get to become Beckie - queen of the school and you end up as a nobody loser with no memory of these events."

The satisfied grin fell off Beckie's face as she looked down at her pages of equations and realised Laura was not lying. With a laugh of triumph, Laura spread her arms wide and moaned as she took everything from Beckie - including her identity.

Laura gasped as she grew taller, her tits swelled out and her features became Beckie's. Her tight new pussy tingled as her designer dress formed around her and the new Queen wiggled her pedicured toes inside their high heels.

The dumb and amnesiac Laura had staggered away with no memory of who she really was and what had just happened whilst Beckie strode away to begin her life as a bully and a bitch.

"Sorry loser," purred the new Beckie, "But you're not part of this equation after all..."

#f2f transformation #attribute theft #new identity #bully tf #evie hyde #power transfer

[crusty-chronicles]

Airheaded S/O Headcannons #4 Byakuya (Bleach)

He's so confused by you

Thinks you're faking at first

You, a ryoka, on the loose in the soul society, have the unfortunate privilege of running into him first.

You'd come in with Ichigo and the others to save Rukia

And upon running into Byakuya, ask-

"Hey you! Do you have any idea where I am right now? I'm trying to get to this cell thingy and save my friend. Could you give me directions?"

Either you're incredibly stupid or incredibly brave to talk to one of the Court Guard Captains like that.

It's definitely stupidity

And you have the nerve to address him so formally.

He immediately uses the shikai of his zanpakutō

"Scatter, Senbonzakura."

And what did you you?

You swatted away the mass of blossoms like it was a bug.

"Flowers???? You tryna say I stink or something 😡😡😡"

And he's just ??????

Because nobody, not even Ichigo, was strong enough to swat away his attack.

You had to be putting on an act

There was no way you were this dumb

Not with the way your spiritual pressure had skyrocketed after learning he was the one who beat Ichigo in the world of the living.

You were trying to deceive him, he was sure if it.

At least he was until you went in for a kick and slipped, knocking the back of your skull on the roof behind you, instantly passing out.

He went over to investigate, maybe give a killing blow.

Then you shot up, nearly breaking his composure.

"Shit, I gotta help Chad!!!" Your head whipping towards him.

"I'll be back for you, flower man," And seemed to disappear in a matter of seconds.

He would've given chase

Key word: would've, if he hadn't been so confused.

The next time he saw you was after the whole Aizen reveal.

You walked up to him, despite your friends calling for you, and looked over a nasty gash on his side.

"That looks painful."

He gave a small glare towards you.

"I don't need your sympathy."

You shoved him backward and put your hand on his wound.

"Yeah, yeah, shove that attitude up your ass and let me help."

And he's ????????

Because no one had dared to talk to him like that.

"Disperse and Redistribute." Energy flowed from your palm, the gash in his side sealing up, only to reappear on your body.

You jumped away, hugging your stomach.

"Ow, that does hurt like hell! How were you walking!!!"

He's astonished, to say the least.

You took his pain for your own, after he tried to kill you earlier.

You were a peculiar human

Keeps an eye on you from then on.

Finds out that yes, you are just that stupid and feels just a little softer towards you because of it

Don't get it twisted, he still thinks of you as a nuisance, but begrudgingly helps you.

You visit the Soul Society quite often because Kisuke has you drop off new inventions.

Even if most end up broken on the way there.

Personally escorts you where you need to go because "it's faster," and, "more efficient than you getting lost and arguing with Mayori"

And you go along with it but complain because "He's being a meany about it," and, "doesn't let you talk with anyone."

"You're not here to 'talk' with friends."

"But you're my friend and I always talk with you."

"We're not friends."

And the look on your face breaks his resolve immediately.

"Acquaintances, we're acquaintances."

And you're back to being all smiles with not a thought behind your eyes.

On the days he's busy either in a captain's meeting or with work, he'll send Renji to assist you.

You almost always barge into his office anyway, kicking out his door with a frazzled Renji behind you.

"You can't just kick down the door!!!!!" And you shush his lieutenant.

"Shhh shhh shhh! Ahem... HI BYAKUYA!!!! 😃" Then you just leave

And he can't even be mad

Annoyed, very

But mad? For some reason he never was.

He doesn't baby you for obvious reasons (He's got a reputation to uphold) but he does let you get away with things.

You wanna stay over another day in the Seireitei?

He can make some arrangements

You wanna heal some of his injuries from a battle before his clan medics get there?

He'll allow you to touch him so you can help.

You accidentally broke an item you were supposed to deliver?

It's fine. Kisuke was always capable of making another.

Rukia is the one who has to point out he has feelings for you.

She had watched the two of you spar

Which is already something very difficult to get her brother to agree with.

How you managed to do it she would never know.

(It's because you kept pestering him about getting strong enough to beat the Arancars and you thought Kenpachi was too scary to train with)

The two of you fought for most of the day, not holding back whatsoever.

The spiritual pressure from the both of you overwhelming to anyone that went near.

When you decided to call it a truce, you were covered with little scratches from head to toe.

Byakuya was in a similar state.

And Rukia had noticed a shift in her brother' demeanor as he placed a hand on your head.

"You're injured." But you only beamed up at his words, smile big as ever.

"You kiddin? This is nothing. And if you're gonna complain about my injuries, I get to complain about yours."

And the smallest of smiles graced his face. His eyes looking down at you softly

"Very well then. I won't bring them up again."

Rukia waited for you to leave before confronting her brother.

"You like them, don't you?"

He turned away from her, yet she caught the slight red dusting his cheeks.

"I have no idea what you're talking about."

"Don't play dumb. I saw you just now. When's the last time you ever sparred with somebody, let alone smile like that?" She had a smug grin on her face, knowing that her words sunk in as Byakuya left in a hurry.

Did he have feelings for you?

No, he couldn't.

He already tried his luck at happiness with Hisana.

There was no way he could just forget about her and move on.

But then why did he let his guard down with you?

Why had he let your infectious grins spread to him?

Why did a small part of him look forward to your visits?

It'd take him while to figure out what he wanted.

He eventually came to the consensus that Hisana would want him to move forward and be happy. She wouldn't want him to continue grieving over something that wasn't his fault

So after a bit of deliberation, he'd begun trying to court you.

Now Byakuya is one of the few unfortunate souls that tries to court you normally.

He tries gift giving, which you appreciate but don't understand the secret undertones.

You just think he's finally accepted you as a friend 🥺.

He invites you over to his estate to walk you through the gardens.

The whole time you have no clue it's supposed to be a date.

He's exasperated because he thinks you're being oblivious on purpose as not to hurt his feelings.

Rukia reassures him that's not the case and he just has to be direct.

"They're an idiot, remember? They're not gonna understand subtlety."

So he leads you somewhere quiet, hopefully without any interruptions, and tries to confess.

He'll place a hand on your head, a gesture you seem to enjoy, and start speaking.

He's halfway through when the dots connect in your smol brain and you realize what's going on.

You pull him by his collar and kiss him before he gets a chance to finish.

And he's glad he wasn't the one making a fool of himself this time.

He won't call you anything sweet in public.

The best you'll get out of him is your name.

But in the privacy of his estate, he'll call you dearest, sweetheart, hun, and love.

Doesn't hold you back if you wanna fight.

He trusts in your ability to choose your battles.

Although, he'll interfere if he thinks the enemy is about to kill you. Scolding you right after for being careless.

You always argue with the clan elders and he's happy you don't let them push you around.

He has to get used to being forward with you. Which is a challenge for the emotionally closed off man.

But he knows it's worth it every time you give him that dopey smile.

An: Definitely the most chaotic of the bunch so far.

NEXT UP: Kakashi Hatake

MASTERLIST

#byakuya kuchiki #byakuya x reader #byakuya kuchiki x reader #bleach #bleach x reader #bleach x y/n #x reader #x y/n #airhead s/o #stronk s/o

[archetypal-archivist]

Notes for Outer Wilds World-Building

-head canon heavy, but grounded in reason I think-

Healthcare: Lots of treating symptoms but not a ton of fixing the thing that caused the initial problem as the Hearthian body is remarkably sturdy and when self-healing can't take care of it, it would take some advanced healthcare to fix it (ex. punctured lung, strong infection). And that's not always something the Hearthians have, as why would they put a ton of effort into advanced pharmaceuticals like penicillin and invasive internal surgeries when it's so rare that someone gets hurt to that point and doesn't immediately die from it in a matter of days? I picture most medicine is herbal in nature, plant-derived and highly concentrated if necessary, such as opioids/morphine for pain that can be taken by injection until you get home and can patch yourself up. Bandages and bed rest and going off of what's taught to you (with a dose of improvising) are key to Hearthian healthcare. For the Hearthians, it's less unwillingness to help in cases of disability and more not being sure how, as the tech to do so would need to be jury-rigged or made from scratch. How well this helps varies as some things like missing limbs and damaged hearing can be accounted for but things like malfunctioning kidneys can't. Ironically, diabetes would spell bad news for a Hearthian.

Food: They don't have birds on Timber Hearth or else we'd see a lot more primitive wings for flying, so that means the animal life differs from earth. Lots of bugs and amphibians and fish, but very few mammals if any as fur is weird to the Hearthians. Hearthians are likely omnivores, given their history, but no trapping of land animals beyond insects. I imagine mostly teams of gatherers picking food from known locations and being careful about how much they take, and maybe some "controlled burnings" to clear out unwanted brush and give room to grow for the plants they actually want. The burnings may be more of an accident but the effect is the same regardless. Berries, nuts (especially pine nuts), cattail tubers and pith, water reed shoots, edible wild greens, and bread made from the flour of ground up tubers/acorns/pine nuts is common. This is supplemented by fish, the fat of which (Google candle fish) and the gelatin formed by boiling their bones are also used in many things. Marshmallows are made the old way, from mallow roots and sugar cane. Snow covered in sap or molasses is a treat, made more common with the invention of rockets that let you grab snow and fly it back to the village before it melts. Chera (borrowed from the fandom) is a tough, fibrous fruit that is sort of bready and is used much like apples are as a thickener in bread and eaten as mash on its own. Pickling, smoking, and canning are very common in Hearthian culture and are key ways of preserving food for when certain key gathered plants are out of season. During the insect mating season when the flies are out in full force, people will smack the clouds of bugs with sap-covered sheets of metal, scrape the bugs off, and grill them up into patties like burgers. This time of year is all hands on deck and not everyone likes eating fly patties but as food, it's incredibly nutritious and ground up flies are sometimes added to food that is lacking. Cooking is communal for the bulk of it, with a town cook pot and storehouse being open to the public to pull from, but if you want to eat beyond standard hours or mass-produced fare, you're on your own and you best hope you know how to cook over a wood fire stove. Filling the communal food pot is often a job foisted on hatchlings and the elders supervise. Specialty foods like sap wine are a trade item or are saved for celebrations and traditions.

Travel: Hearthians don't have wheeled carts as getting things into their crater via wheeled cart would be difficult at best. Instead they'll drag chopped down trees where they need to go via sleds or float them on the rivers or lower them into the crater with elevators. Anything else they'll carry down personally. To get around the planet, Hearthians just walk and if it takes more than a day, they camp along the way. Now that ships are a thing however, travel has shrunk the world by a lot- not that it does the average Hearthian much good. The ships are dangerous, prone to causing fires if one tries to land on Timber Hearth proper as rockets plus grass equals bad. A skilled pilot can pick a decent landing spot that's damp or barren enough to not be a problem, but it's usually so far from where you want to go that it's better to walk anyway. Said average Hearthians also do not like dealing with g-forces or potential death. Those are the only reasons why it's not normal for astronauts to ferry average Hearthians around like a taxi service or to take materials from point A to point B across the planet. None of this matters on the Attlerock however, as there's nothing to catch fire there, so ships will haul stuff up there all the time at Esker and Hornfels' behest. Rocket fuel is made from flammable gases pumped up from underground by the mining equipment as waste. It used to be released into the atmosphere to keep the miners from suffocating or exploding (a problem, sometimes those spouts would catch alight) but Slate had the bright idea of storing it in tanks under pressure. They already had pressurized air for the miners at the deepest depths to breathe where air was hard to come by, why couldn't they bottle up the waste gases to dispose of more safely? Like burning it elsewhere?

Clothing: Fabric is made from the fibers of a linen-like plant called flush, names for the purplish hue at the base of the reed's stem. The weavers' house is filled with Hearthians whose job it is to separate the fibers out and spin them into thread. From there, the weaver in charge of the loom will dye the thread with plant-based dyes and use a flying loom to quickly weave bolts of fabric. It takes a LOT of thread to make fabric but thanks to the weavers' bugging Slate into making them into a machine running off water power, the thread-making time has been cut down significantly. However, the whole process still takes a while so most Hearthians only own a few pieces of clothing and they're expected to patch it, hand-me-down it, and wash it until it is literally in rags before they get more. Hatchlings get the worst of it, they get pretty much nothing but hand-me-down clothes as they outgrow things too fast for unique outfits for each of them. Scarves, hats, and handkerchiefs are an exception and are often the only piece of clothing a hatchling has that survives to adulthood, which makes them all the more precious. Dresses- which take more fabric- and anything patterned or multicolored is a sign of indulgence/finery or a very nice gift and is such relegated to fancy clothes for fine events. Shoes are made of fish leather or treated fabric strips wrapped around a wood sole and structure and then sewn in place.

Economy: Hearthians run on a trade economy, with every person expected to contribute in some way. You are always guaranteed food from the communal cook pot and shelter in either a house of your own or on someone else's couch/floor, but beyond that you get side-eyed if you ask for things too often without offering something in return. Fortunately, Hearthians have a strong oral tradition and a very relaxed (boring) lifestyle so most are happy to trade gossip and stories for basic amenities. Building houses, weaving fabric, gathering food, working in the mines, and watching the hatchlings and tasks like those are ones that are never required for people to do, you can walk off and take a break whenever. However, it's seen as poor taste to do that for more than a few days at a time without cause because if you aren't working, you're letting your fellow Hearthians down. If you can't do big work for health reasons or lack of skill, you're expected to pick up small work like knitting, patching things up, cooking at the communal food pot, etc. What most hatchlings end up doing is they either find a passion and just continue with it into a proper "job" that helps the village in some way, they get an apprenticeship, or they get picked up by an adult and pretty much conscripted in order to "keep them out of trouble." Fire watch and astronaut and jobs like it are jobs of high prestige and are very demanding in the body, and as such run as apprenticeships with Gossan and Tektite selecting who they want to teach from those that come up to them and ask to learn. Such jobs don't do much to physically help the village (beyond bringing back space relics but those aren't always useful to the village at large) but they do bring in a ton of interesting stories and those are prime currency for the Hearthians.

Life Cycle: Hearthians are hermaphrodites that breed like fish do- during certain times of year, Hearthians may feel the urge to slip down to the river and release sperm and eggs into the water. Couples can go together, but most don't make much of it, seeing them as temporary dalliances or choosing to put up with being a little hot and itchy for a few days, refusing to go, and then the season is done for them for the year. The sperm and eggs mingle in warm underground pools and incubate there until they get hard and heavy enough to be picked up by the current. Due to how the waters of Timber Hearth run, the eggs more or less end up being carried to the same place every year where Hearthians in charge of raising hatchlings go to pick them up. The eggs are candled to check for life, then swaddled and placed into cribs to hatch. Hatchlings are raised in batches together in the Hatchling House, with sick ones quarantined in a back room to keep the rest from getting ill (so things like measles don't wipe out a whole generation). Hatchlings are fed mash until their baby teeth fall out, then they are fed real food like fish with bones in it. They only are named when the caretaker is sure that they will survive their first month or three of life, then they are introduced to the village by that name. They are allowed to go outside for the first time once they can walk and talk a little bit, an occasion marked by giving them shoes. After that, a hatchling may leave the Hatchling House to live on their own once they have a place to stay lined up, work, and they either can drink sap wine (which hatchlings don't have the enzymes to digest) or meet a certain height. As Hearthians age, the ears droop more, the skin pales, and the body starts failing. Past a certain age a Hearthian just kinda stops healing, as if all their sturdiness is limited to their younger years, and if they survive past even that, then their mind begins to go. Deaths are grieved and the dead buried with song and music being played with a space being left in the song for the deceased to "play a solo" and the rest of the band picking up after as a reminder that life goes on. In a few rare cases, hatchlings can imprint on an adult and vice versa, which gives rise to more "standard" parent child bonds and frequently, apprenticeships.

Calendar: The Hearthian planet does have seasons, sort of, but mostly a "hot and dry" vs "cool and wet" divide. No snow, their winters are just slightly more rain than usual and their summers are slightly warmer and with a chance for thunderstorms. However, there are still holidays involved with the changing of the seasons, mostly tied to when food is more or less available and when the solstices are. The alignment of the planets is also celebrated but that's a more recent celebration that popped up and it intensified into a major holiday only when the observatory got built with its ability to lock down alignments to exact dates. Breeding season is an informal holiday, being a few days in Spring and Autumn where sap wine is plentiful and people are expected to take some time off from work to relax. Hearthian formal holidays involve getting everyone in the village to sing, dance, and play music together around a bonfire. Stories and sap wine flow thick and fast and the best storytellers and musicians are treated to the best food and treats. Musicians will sometimes "duel" for funsies to see who is better at improvising and technical skills, to the joy of the crowd. Informal celebrations, like when an astronaut launches for the first time or one comes home or a batch of hatchlings are given a name on their name day lead to similar events, just scaled down some with only non-busy people attending. However, Hearthians love a good party so many will make time for such gatherings if they can.

#outer wilds #world building #my writing

[t-tomuras]

♔ ─── • 𝐎𝐛𝐬𝐨𝐥𝐞𝐭𝐞

Pairing: Tomura Shigaraki | Tenko Shimura x F!reader

Warnings: Cyberpunk AU, Tenko majority of this fic, mentions of public masturbation, body modification to both reader and Tenko, nipple play, biting, drinking, mutual pining, creampie

Wordcount: 8.5k

Notes: Reupload

Tenko doesn’t even try to look like he’s busy, barely dressed presentably with tired eyes and stark white locks tousled like he’d just dragged himself from bed. It’s not like anyone can say anything to him, they can whisper amongst each other with lips curled in disdain as much as they pleased, he could not give more than two shits. The hushed voices meant nothing when his father was a member of the board of directors with heavy investments into the company that kept Tenko and his family in the lap of luxury, Kotaro willfully ignorant to how the other half lived. Ignoring the easily remedied struggles and furthering the division in classes with a polished shoe on the backs of the poor he used as stepping stones. 

Tenko was a starry eyed boy once, delusions of grandeur his father was quick to squash with harsh words and harsher punishments if the former didn’t do the trick. Tenko preferred his mother and favored her in disposition, coddled by her as a result and gently shushing his cries as she administered his immunoblockers; distracting him by asking about his ‘inventions’ before his father stormed in with unabated rage. 

“You’re ruining him,” Kotaro would hiss like he hadn’t been doing that himself. Modifying his child with artificial parts to replace the ones he deemed defective simply because he could. Altering him and putting heavy stress on his body at such a young age that inky locks bled into ghost white down to the follicle, cutting away the evidence of the change until the color was even all throughout. Nobody would ask any questions, hardly anyone batted an eye at bodies decorated with chrome; regardless of the age. 

By the time Tenko was an adult the light had dulled but not quite died behind his eyes, taking a job with little responsibilities Kotaro forced onto him without a fuss simply because it was easier. The more painless option. 

But Tenko still had his sharp mind and kind heart, spending the first year of his employment creating designs for body modifications and implants meant to help those that needed the boost; coming to meetings with solid foundations to manufacture them at low cost. His grin was never wider when the board accepted his ideas, created the prototypes and ran their ads that assaulted the masses without relent. 

Only for the price of Tenko’s design to be ten times the proposed amount despite how it was produced below cost. Every executive praised him for saving them Eurodollars they already had a surplus of, the fact making Tenko’s fingers twitch, blunted nails digging into his overly starched pants as he fought the urge to claw at his throat or rub at the calloused skin around his eyes. 

A piece of him died with every instance, new projects he was placed on with the notion of improving lives but the hope is dashed each time. The designs altered and crafted for military and arms usage, plans drafted for field testing or exorbitant price tags for public use that only the upper class could afford. 

It only took two years to crush his spirit completely, reduced him from the optimistic boy his mother cherished to the corporate slag his father heavily modified from adolescence to adulthood. A literal shell of who he once was. 

Now the days just blend together, Tenko openly watching whatever Brain Dance he got his hands on to pass his time at work no matter the ire it incurred. He wasn’t afraid of Kotaro anymore, what more could he do to him at this point besides push him into psychosis? Tenko almost felt like he was halfway there despite the (mostly) clean bill of health he received from their overpaid physician. 

Gotta love those premium plans. 

The BD ends too quickly for his liking, pulling him from the world of gore he’d chosen to insert himself in and back into the sterile glass cage he called an office. Dulled carmines scan over moving bodies in pristine suits with disinterest, the same overly manicured people passing by that he saw every day. 

Except one.

One that stood out, to him at least, your eyes flitting from person to person as you walked too close to a man much larger than yourself. You held your hand to your temple for a moment, Tenko barely able to catch the orange gleam to your eyes that signaled you were on a call before they faded back to their original color. You step closer still, Tenko swiveling in his desk chair as he watches with piqued interest when your lip pouts out and brows furrow with (what he assumes from this distance) frustration. You hasten in pace, managing to get ahead of the man he recognizes as a level three clearance suit before you’re tripping over your own two feet intentionally, grabbing his arm for stability but ultimately bringing him to the ground with you. 

Tenko’s hairless brow raises, watching the scene unfold as the crowd splits around the two of you. The man looks agitated at first until he looks at you, face morphing into a sympathetic gaze as you apologize and rises to your feet, touching the male much more than Tenko considered normal until he notices why. Your hand glides up his shoulder, waving over the ports behind his right ear and pulling out a chip of heaven knows what software or data without the man noticing before slipping it up your own ill fitting outfit Tenko thought looked unnatural on you. 

You looked completely out of place and now he can tell why. 

When the employee helps you steady on your feet, you create distance despite how it seems the man wants the opposite. You look animated in the way you wave your hand and laugh off your feined clumsiness, finding an excuse to head in the opposite direction before ultimately parting ways. 

Tenko follows when you make it to the elevator to likely head to the lobby and out of Militechs tower. The doors sliding shut but your sigh of relief is premature when it slams back open, eyes wide for a moment when Tenko steps on to join you. He settles next to you, nodding quietly with a smirk you finds unsettling instead of friendly. Tenko doesn’t miss how you side step closer to the wall and fidgets with the sleeve he saw you conceal the stolen chip in. You’re thankful the ride is short, stepping off first with hurried strides and without a word to him, slipping into the sea of bodies that crowd the main floor. 

He loses you in the crowd but figures you’ll definitely be heading for the exit. Tenko makes his way through the large glass doors, head on a swivel as he scans over the people in the courtyard until he spots you again. You’re already completely down the stairs but you make no effort to turn around to see if you’re being followed. You know it makes you easier to spot, that it admits guilt. The only reason Tenko even spots you are the cornea implants he’s finally thankful for. 

Tenko takes the steps two at a time, careful not to look like he’s chasing you so he doesn’t draw attention to either of you. It isn’t until several twists and turns over different streets and the crosswalks traffic light that you’re sure you’ve lost him, making a call to the Fixer that gave you a shot. 

The dialing tone rings twice before an encrypted name flashes over the call log projected in front of you that only you can see. A deep voice sounds clear in your head, asking if you’d gotten any of the results you’d promised. Tenko manages to catch up with you then, hearing you talk and stopping short before he steps around the corner; pressing his back against the wall and slowing his breathing to listen in on the one sided conversation. 

“Yeah I got it, I’m sending over the data now. . . What? The fuck do you mean that’s not what you asked for? It was the guy you said!” 

There’s a short period of silence, filled with your ragged breathing before you raise your voice once more, “That wasn’t the fucking deal— BITCH!” 

He knows the conversations come to an end when you curse loudly. It’s almost childish the way you stomp your foot, Tenko peeking around the corner in time to see you tousle your hair in frustration, taking the chip you’d swiped and tossing it to the ground, crushing it for good measure before you stomp away. He almost snickers, smirk tugging his lip upwards when your head turns sharply in his direction, face pinched in a scowl. Tenko thinks you’ve spotted him for sure, prepared to make it look like he simply bumped into you while rounding a corner but when he hears your steps receding he breathes a sigh of relief. 

For whatever reason, he doesn’t know. 

Tenko just knows you’re the most excitement he’d experienced in a long while, making the thought of heading back to work even less appealing than usual. 

So he decides to follow you, assuming he’s doing so at enough distance not to be noticed but he’s wrong. You’re wary of everyone, if there’s ever a lingering presence you’re more than aware of it and you were already on edge. You make it hard to keep up but Tenko is faster than he looked, long strides growing in pace when you start to weave through the crowd in an attempt to give him the slip. He may have the speed but you’ve spent most of your life dodging suits and lying low. 

He doesn’t call out for you, try and get you to stop but follows leisurely. It almost makes you angry, wanting to whirl on him and zero the threat as you move further and further towards the Edge. Into familiar territory where grime and graffiti cakes every surface and for once you have the advantage. Even if it’s slight. 

You cast a sideways glance, catching Tenko looking around the shadowed areas he follows you through that are marginally brightened by flickering holograms and neon lights. He lives in his own apartment close to the Edge, baffled by the contrast between this area and his own. You seize the window of opportunity, lurching forward into a sprint, shouldering through bystanders and taking paths you’d taken time and time again to shake lawmen or greedy fucks looking to rip from someone else. It’s too late when Tenko notices you, breaking into his own hurried pace but you already know you’re home free. 

You hop for a rusted fire escape of a decaying building forgotten in the expansion of industry when you round another corner, hoisting yourself up onto the iron walkway to crawl through an open window. The floorboards groan under your weight but give no other complaints when you stand still, crouching at the windowsill to scan for the man following you; relief flooding your system when you watch him continue deeper into the slums of Night City. You wait for a short spell before emerging from your hiding spot before heading home. 

Tenko wanders longer, taking in the sights long after he’s lost you and finds that even in states of decay he likes this side of the city better than where he’s from. 

Even if there are men getting milked by machines strapped to their pelvises with their tongues lolled out in ecstasy in plain view. 

Anything was better than the thick glass he was forced behind to keep him clean, "above the rest." Never realizing how quickly the panes would shatter, how fast he would fall as soon as he stepped over the edge. 

ıllıllııllıllııllıllııllıllııllıllı

Tenko spends more of his time venturing the slums you’d lead him to, learning quickly that he should change his clothes to something more relaxed than the pressed suit he was forced to wear to work. Lest he get mugged, again. 

He finds he blends in easier with the simple black sleeveless tee, tight black pants and red cloak overlay with an iridescent crimson inner collar that makes his eyes gleam dangerously. Now Tenko looked like he belongs, rugged in his looks with the scars from childhood that decorated his left eye and right corner of his lip.

Tenko wanders aimlessly, finding all the history and getting glimpses into the lives he’s always been oblivious to until now.Patroning whatever amenities the outer limits of Night City had to offer, always looking around with the thought in the back of his mind of seeing you again. Watching intently when someone moves quickly in a swarm of people, scanning more than necessary and sitting on train rides through the city until the very last stop. A quiet sort of desperation, Tenko wouldn’t consider it that, of course, he was just a naturally curious person and he found you more than interesting; even from such a limited exchange. 

You’d seen him in passing plenty though, more often than your suspicious mind could care for. You watched how he looked around at faces on the train deeper into the underbelly of Night City while you picked their sockets, quick to get out of his sight each time. Tenko didn’t look at people the way you did, like a walking payday, no; he watched like he found them interesting for whatever reason or like he was looking for someone. Looking for you. 

It bothered you, made you grit your teeth each time you saw him because, even if he was looking for you, what did he have to gain? If he wanted you arrested or charged he could’ve done it by now. 

Tenko confused you. He was an easy enough read too, definitely didn’t belong in your world with how he carried himself, even if he did carry the same hunch to his shoulders. The kind you get when you’ve been beaten down and kicked by corpos just because of your financial standings. Some looked worse than others, he just wasn’t quite there yet. 

He catches you by sheer luck one day, watches you intently; you know it’s him simply by the feel of his eyes on you. Like the first time he watched and chased you on your first (and last) bungled job from a Fixer. You ignore him the best you can, choosing not to draw too much attention to yourself because you needed the eddies and swiping software was the fastest route. 

It was like a show for Tenko, watching with rapt attention at how nimbly you skirt around your targets, avoiding getting caught with a bat of your eyelashes and an apology if they seemed they were wise to you. It made him smirk, one you sneer at when you cast a glance in his direction before disappearing out of the doors when the train reached a stop you found suitable. You knew when to book-it but Tenko wasn’t so easily dissuaded. 

You grit your teeth as he keeps pace, dodging quickly around corners and he’s not exactly sure why he’s chasing you, but Tenko’s feet carry him forward. He’s thankful for the lung implants, thankful for the chrome his father pushed because he wasn’t a healthy child for the first time in his fucking life. They help him in his pursuit but maybe he should install some software that gives him a bit faster reaction time. Tenko follows you around another corner, dimly lit despite knowing better of the dangers only to end up with his feet kicked from under him. The back of his head hits pavement, jarring his senses when a knee digs into his chest with sharp silver claws poised close enough to his jugular that the cool titanium knick’s his skin when he swallows. 

You’re both panting for breath, wild look in gleaming eyes above him when Tenko regains his bearings. Another set of claws digs tightly into the fabric of his shirt, tearing it when you lift him despite your knee being planted firmly in his diaphragm that makes him wheeze. 

“Why, the fuck, are you followin me?”

Tenko doesn’t answer, he doesn’t fucking know why he was following you, not really. Because he found you interesting? Because he was curious? Neither of those seemed like good enough reasons to not have pretty claws shoved through his throat but it’s obvious in how your hands shake that you’re anxiously expecting an answer. 

“I don’t know,” it’s quieter than the both of you expected and whether it was shock or you believing him, he’s unsure, but you release him. Your hands move to your hips, bottom lip pouting out with your knee still settled to keep him pinned and that’s the only thing that keeps him from chuckling at the way you look now. From threatening to cute (for a petty thief with an obvious violent streak) in an instant. Tenko learns quickly though that you shift temperaments at breakneck speed because you’ve got him shoved down flat against concrete before he can even blink again. 

Your hand shoves his face to the side, palm pushing into his cheek but keeping your prominent claws lifted carefully away from his flesh while you scan him. Your eyes glow a vibrant blue, data scrolling through your irises for only a moment, lids sliding shut when they revert back to your natural eye color. 

“What’s a suits kid doin around the slums? Shouldn’t you be kicked back at the top of daddy’s tower?”

There’s a notable disdain in your voice, more so than he’s picked up from overheard conversations and a general understanding of the overt class differences. That doesn’t mean the comment doesn’t churn at his organs, the ones that he was allowed to keep, anyway. Tenko turns his head, once dulled carmine burning into brilliant crimson flashing dangerously in a way that makes your own heart race, your eyes widen a fraction at the change in disposition. 

“You say that like a bitter pet cast aside by its owner.” 

“You’re not exactly in any position to be insultin me, choom,” you snarl back, leaning nose to nose with the titanium threat thirsty for blood sitting cold against scarred and calloused skin. His hands find your hips, action surprising you enough to make you falter and lean away from him but he sits up to follow. 

“I think I like this position, actually.”

You settle he must be stupid, fighting the heat that courses through your blood and the throb to your clit the darkened tone of voice and teasing comment causes. You pry away his hands to stand to your feet, pressing the low heel of your boot into his lower abdomen so he doesn’t rise with you. 

“Don’t follow me again or daddy’s gonna be cashin in on that expensive policy he’s got on you.” 

You’re sprinting further into the low light and out of Tenko’s sight before he can even respond, leaving him to rub at the soreness of his skull in a vain attempt to soothe the ache within. He’s got a smirk on his face, though, scar on his lip tugged upward with the expression while he stares into the limited darkness you receded into. 

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It agitates you just how often you run into him after the first encounter, colliding with his chest in cramped train cars most often, curling your lip when Tenko catches the chip you’d swiped from someone taller than you. He holds it out to you with a smug look, palm up and suspended between your bodies before you’re snatching it and shouldering past him with an annoyed pout that continues to grow more cute than biting to him. 

You always slink away at the next available stop after running into him, he’s learned, a quickly predictable pattern Tenko tracks after the fourth encounter. Your patience wears thin when it comes to him but killing a corpos son, especially one that’s employed high enough in the corporate tower to show status, is more trouble than it’s worth. That’s what you tell yourself, anyway, each time you leave him with an empty threat of his spilled blood and to leave you alone if he knew what was good for him. 

Though, by the fifth encounter, you wish you would’ve torn into his skin whenever he gets the upper hand on you. You weren’t paying attention, had let your guard down with the consideration that you hadn’t seen Tenko at all (not that you were looking for him) and reasoned maybe he either got bored or had finally taken the hint. 

But, no such luck. 

You round a corner on the path to huck your haul to the highest bidder but find yourself pressed between a solid body and a filthy wall. You thrash wildly, throwing your head back with the hope you’ll catch the fucker's nose after the assailant takes both of your wrists and pins them behind your back in an iron grip. 

“Quit your fightin,” the familiar voice breathes against the shell of your ear and, surprisingly, you relax slightly in his hold. He pulls a cord from his throat, jacking it into one of the ports behind your ear, making you thrash once more even as he shushes you, “you scanned me, be good and let me see what you have to share.” 

Even with the coo, the unintentionally sultry purr of his voice, you snarl and work to keep him from gleaning more than he needed to know about you. Corrupting whatever data he attempts to download, snarling at the error messages that display before he yanks the cord from you out of frustration. 

Your head leans back, resting against his shoulder while he looks down to glare his annoyance, “you could always ask what you want to know.” 

You’ll admit the relentless interest of Tenko piqued your own, if only moderately. You find him an enigma despite having all the information you needed on him. Who his father was, where they both worked, every implant in his body and immunosuppressant he was on, right down to the serial number and brand. Even with all of that, Tenko still held the advantage simply because of his financial status, he could’ve had you arrested time and time again by now, but he hadn’t. It’s far from a sturdy foundation of trust but every dog deserves a bone from time to time. 

You offer your name when Tenko doesn’t step away from you or make a move to release his hold. There’s a skeptical raise to his brow, staring at you until you sigh and relax further in his grip, “nothin to know about me in any database you’ll search in.” 

You made sure of that, spent countless hours in deep dives meticulously erasing any trace of your existence so it wouldn’t be brought to an end. When the creases in his forehead only deepen with his scowl you giggle, shrugging as best you can in your position, “don’t gotta reason to lie to you either.”

It far from placates him but at least he knows what to call you now, releasing his hold on your arms and stepping back enough for you to turn around. He thinks you’ll slink away again now that you have the opportunity but you don’t, you lean against the wall with your arms folded over your chest instead; obviously chewing the inside of your cheek like you were heavily considering something. 

“Why do you keep coming here?” The question this time lacks any accusation or venom compared to the first variation. He actually feels inclined to give proper response, even if it doesn’t actually provide a real answer for you. 

“I like it better.” 

That baffles you, enough to actually make you snort a bit before you break out into a genuine laugh. A corpos son with everything in the world at his fingertips simply because of where he was born and who he was born to, preferring the downtrodden.

“You’ve definitely got a few wires crossed,” you say in good nature, laughter dying down into something softer, smile still on your lips that brings one to replace his scowl. It’s small, a smirk if anything, but there’s a definite shift in your interaction now. 

A silence settles between you but it’s far from uncomfortable, Tenko’s hands shoving deep into the pockets of the red coat he wears. You shift your weight on the balls of your feet, rocking slightly as you consider what you want to do next before pushing off of the wall behind you. You take a few steps out into the street, turning to face him when you notice he’s not following. 

“Been chasin me for weeks and now you don’t follow? C’mon, don’t stand there like a gonk.” 

“Where are we going?” He asks but still comes at your beckoning, stride falling in line with yours.

“Somewhere actually worth likin in this shithole.” 

You take him to the official, unofficial, spot everyone looking for a good time went to and where the lawmen didn’t venture. 

Supernova 

A club where it didn’t matter who you were, as long as you paid your tab and didn’t kick up too much shit there was no last call. Tenko looked around in awe, neon lights acting like a beacon and the patrons a moth to its splendor. The interior is lit with black lights reflecting the right colors off of every surface and scantily clad women and men decorated in pretty patterns to hypnotize and entice drunkards looking to blow off some steam. 

It was lively, to say the least, but Tenko stuck close to you as you guided him to the bar, handing him one of two bottles you’d taken from behind the shelf. 

“You’re paying,” you yell over the music but he hardly hears you, agreeing with a nod when you laugh and tug him deeper into the throng of bodies into the open space in the center. You stop somewhere in the middle, turning to him when the music changes and you bounce to the beat with your drink in the air before you practically howl in excitement and knock it back with the bottom up. Your eye cracks open to see him standing stiff despite all the movement around him, moving your hand to lift his own bottle to his lips in a silent bid to drink. 

Tenko doesn’t need much prompting from you, following your lead and emptying his first bottle with a hiss at the carbonation before you’re grabbing two more. You shove one into his hand, already tilting the drink to your lips while dancing around him in encouragement to move with you. 

He empties his drink after you, grin spreading as the alcohol warms his blood and melts away his reservations. Tenko grabs a shot for himself off a passing platter, knocking it back in one swallow while he takes your hand to lift high as you circle around him. Your smile matches his, the music changes again as Tenko pulls you to him to sway with the tempo, hands planted firmly on your hips to keep you close.

Tenko presses your back flush to his chest, his hands aiding in grinding the fat of your ass into his pelvis with the beat as his head dips. You feel him rest his nose in your throat, lips ghosting over your feverish skin from the collective heat that he only seems to worsen in the best of ways with his touch. You can feel his growing erection pressing into you and when the music ends the jarring mood switch leaves you reeling. It brings you back to your senses for a moment, like a bucket of ice water being dumped on you. 

You pull away from Tenko, straightening your thin jacket and smoothing your clothes like it could abate the flusterment you felt before you’re heading for the exit with some flippant excuse he doesn’t hear. His fingers run over his throat but not in the urge to scratch, bringing it up to run through his hair for a moment before he’s following you into the open air; finding you sitting on a bench with your head tilted up to the sky. 

“Needed a breather,” you offer without prompt when he joins you and Tenko accepts the answer, agreeing as he clears his throat. The music only felt like a low thrum instead of the heavy pulsing that it was at this distance, sounds of the city joining the noise in harmony. 

“Wish the breeze didn’t smell like shit,” you add after a moment, nose scrunched up in disgust while you still try and enjoy the cooling air. Tenko chuckles, shoving his hands into his pants pockets as he slouches down into the bench when he feels a familiar edge of an item that he pulls from its confines. 

The motion catches your eye, craning slightly to see the small square in his hand but you don’t ask what it is but you can see for Ten, scrawled in pretty lettering. There’s a slight upward pull to his lips, a look of fondness on his face as Tenko’s thumb gently runs over the worn, handwritten label on the front. He sees your interest, smirking as he digs into his pocket for the compact visor to hand to you, “wanna see?” 

“What is it?” You question but still take the visor and fit it to your face. Tenko pushes the BD into the visors slot, all the settings for it preadjusted perfectly because of his continuous use of it. 

“Just wait,” he takes the cord from his port to link with you so Tenko can join in the experience. He pushes a toggle and instantly you’re transported from the cage of noise and light into a hilly plain of lush green grass with Tenko at your side.

You look around in awe, nothing but tall grass over hilly plains for as far as the eye can see. A breeze rolls over the terrain, making the blades move in a way that looks like ocean waves. It’s almost overwhelming, the joy that floods your body as you breathe deeply and don’t smell the stench of your industrial prison. You tilt back with your arms spread like you’re willing the gust to caress every part of you, the wind whipping the torso of your jacket away from you. 

The experience is breathtaking, opening your eyes to a sky full of more stars than you’d ever seen in your entire life, uninhibited by light pollution. 

“Where did you get this,” it comes breathlessly when you finally remember you’re not alone in this foreign place. You turn to look at Tenko, fighting the rush of heat that warms your face at his soft expression, like he found your reaction precious. 

“It belonged to my mom, she always showed me this after implants,” his look changes into something more somber with a touch of resentment, a mixing of memories both fond and not. You reach for his hand, gaining his attention again as you step closer to him, squeezing his palm with a reassuring pressure. 

You lean your head against his shoulder, standing in amicable silence with the sound of grass being rustled by another pleasant breeze until the sequence ends. You pull the visor away, met with the now empty lot on the outside of Supernova save for you and Tenko. You're resting against him now, supposing you’d drifted closer subconsciously while in the simulated world but you don’t move away from him. 

There’s a look shared between you both in the closeness, searching in one another’s eyes for something you weren’t entirely sure what it could be. It seems Tenko does, though, as his hand comes to rest against your cheek, thumbing over the skin just below your eye. His gaze flickers to your lips, leaning closer and when you show no signs of rejection he tilts his head to finally kiss you. 

It’s tentative at first, featherlight until you return the pressure, leaning into him for more and he runs with the reaction. His hand slides to cup behind your ear while the other pulls your body closer to him by your waist, making a noise of approval when you melt into him. Tenko’s lips are somewhat rough but the contrast feels divine against the tenderness of your own. 

Your hands find his shoulders, creeping slowly into his lap as the tip of his tongue traces over the seam of your lips in plea for entrance; mewling slightly as you grant it. You’ve just barely straddled him and gotten a taste when a jarring chime signaling a phone call rings through your skull. 

Tenko groans when you pull away to answer, lips kiss swollen and lids hooded as he waits to continue but you’re standing up before he can protest. 

He’d distracted you, completely forgetting that before you came here with him you were supposed to meet with a buyer. You’re offering apologies to whoever is on the other end of the call, fixing yourself with the promise you’re on your way. 

You leave Tenko on the bench, once again having him watch your back as you sprint away from him only this time he’s left with a different sort of ache. 

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Your interactions shift dramatically after the heated kiss you blame solely on the alcohol in your system that night and the flood of emotions you felt during the BD he showed you. Tenko always presses against you with intent now and you’re hyper aware of every plane of his body compared to any time before. It always takes you a moment before you’re pushing him away, halfheartedly threatening, “I’ll flatline you if you get handsy, choom.” But you actually like the closeness and when you remove yourself from him there’s a notable reluctance. 

You lie to yourself that you only miss the feeling of the breeze on your skin and not the blazing touch of his fingers groping at your body to bring you closer with a desire for you that gained him nothing but affection. Telling yourself that the way he groaned when your tongue slid over his doesn’t plague your thoughts and if it does it’s driven by lust alone. 

The thoughts only worsen, the longing sitting heavy in your chest when you stop seeing him. It’s not obvious at first, there had been times where you’d only see him every couple of days because he did have obligations but he was never gone long.

You start to look for him now too, ignorant of how you shared the same desire Tenko did after your first meeting. Searching for him on crowded trains and peeking down dimly lit alleyways and taking second glances when you see a swatch of ghost white in the dingy streets, fighting disappointment when you realize it isn’t him. 

He sneaks up on you though, just when you stop looking for him with the notion that he decided he didn’t find you or your world that interesting after all. That he didn’t prefer it over the comforts wealth had to offer. Tenko catches you right before you take the stairs for the train's waiting area, stifling your startled yelp with his hand, the other grabbing your wrists reminiscent of the day you took him to Supernova.

“Miss me?” He breathes through a chuckle, taunting laugh in your ear that sends arousal bubbling in your gut. He doesn’t miss how the rigidity quickly leaves your form even as you begin to squirm in his hold, especially not when Tenko pushes his entire body against yours so when you writhe weakly for freedom he’d get friction to his crotch. 

He would be embarrassed by how quickly his cock swells from the minimal stimulation if the sexual tension between you both hadn’t been mounting since your first shared kiss. Tenko’s every waking thought revolves around that memory. One moment having you held tightly against him with your tongue mingling with his only for you to all too quickly pull away from him and leave without much explanation. 

Tenko would’ve pushed his luck a bit more, let his hands explore you again in the following few exchanges but he’d been neglecting his few duties at work enough for his father to take notice. He half assed everything he could but it still took over two weeks to get Kotaro off his case enough to slip away without notice. 

And you plagued every thought of his and by how you react to him now he knows you felt the same. You had to have been, he can’t be making it up. There’s no way, not when you’re looking at him the way you are, parting your pretty lips and batting your lashes at him with that arch to your back that made him wish a BD didn’t include someone’s fucking face when all he wanted to see was yours the nights he desperately needed relief. 

“Almost think you want me to catch you like this,” Tenko breathes into your ear, resting his chin on your shoulder with one hand pinning both of yours to the wall above you while the other firmly holds your hip. 

You turn your head the slightest bit, eyeing him from the side, “and if I said I did?” 

It makes a shudder wrack down his spine, exhaling slowly as his grip tightens and lids slip shut; you emphasize the question by grinding your ass back against him, eliciting a choked groan Tenko tries to bite back. He pulls you further back against him, his chest flush to your back with his hardening cock prodding against the curve of you. Tenko’s fingers slip under the band of the baggy pants that hang low on your hips, growling when he comes into contact with the skintight bodysuit that covers your cunt. He sucks his teeth, pinching the seam to pull it away before releasing it, the fabric snapping back to your skin with a light popping sound that makes you yelp at the sting. 

“Wear somethin less complicated,” he growls but there’s no bite to it, teeth grazing over the skin of your shoulder to tease you further. Your complaint dies in your throat when nimble digits finally slip beneath the fabric, brushing his middle finger over your clit as his ring and forefinger part your folds. Tenko relishes the sticky sound mixed with the way your body shakes with a shuddering breath, hips jerking into his touch. 

Tenko sighs, humid breath making you keenly aware of the slight dampness on your skin from his teeth and tongue before his lips brush over your throat. His tongue darts out to taste the light sheen of sweat, alternating between pecks and licks with a playful nip that has you turning your face away from him to give him more access. You make a sharp noise when Tenko’s fingers delve further, heel of his palm applying pressure to your clit to keep hearing your muted whines through bitten lips as his index and middle finger tease at your hole. 

“H— here?” You question and he laughs when your hips buck, trying to urge him where you need him with a pleading whine, pressing your forehead in embarrassment to the abrasive concrete wall in front of you at the sound. 

Tenko releases your hands, bringing the hand not toying with your slit to cup your jaw and tilt you to face him. “I’m sure there’s worse things that’ve happened out here,” he purrs as his fingers continue to tease, making sticky sounds that bring a smug grin to his face that only makes your pout deepen. 

“Stop teasin daddy’s b—“ a gasp tears from your throat when both of Tenko’s fingers shove into your cunt to the last knuckle, scissoring and curling to stretch you with no warning. He swallows your moan, taking the opportunity to meld his lips with yours in an open mouthed kiss and slide his tongue over yours. He gives you no reprieve either, sucking on the wet muscle while pumping his fingers in a steady rhythm so all you can do is mewl and buck into his touch. He likes the way you jerk each time he gives pressure to your clit, uneven and desperate for more of him as Tenko ruts his own hips in tandem to give him some modicum of relief. 

You only part for air, your chest heaving and gaze clouded with lust but you pull away when he attempts to bring you back for more, giggling slightly when he snarls at his second attempt. 

“I— I don’t live far,” sentence broken with heavy breaths but when he doesn’t take the hint you reach between your body and the wall to take his wrist. “C’mon choom, maybe I’ll even let ya log it for a BD.”

He wishes that didn’t sound so appealing, even for a joke, growling when he pulls his fingers from you and stepping away, popping the digits in his mouth to swirl his tongue around them to have a taste of you before you’re pulling him along. 

Always following you, always on your heels but it’s always felt right no matter the circumstances. It feels even better when he crosses the threshold to your tiny studio apartment for the first time, dimly lit with plenty of neon he doesn’t have the time to focus on before you’re pulling him to you for a kiss of teeth and tongue. He pulls your body to his, hands on your hips as he walks you backwards to your mattress, stopping to undo the belt that keeps your baggy pants up until they pool around your ankles. Tenko works on his own clothes, shimmying out of his pants as you pull the straps of your bodysuit down your shoulders, breasts falling free for his viewing pleasure. 

He thinks you look beautiful like this, iridescent hues decorating your body in different shades that makes him hate every second he’s not touching you. 

So he remedies that, hooking his fingers into the clothing to help you push it away as he lowers you to the bed, lips blazing a path along your skin. The sounds of your airy sighs goad him, latching onto a pert nipple as his fingers pinch and pull at the other before he alternates to evenly split his attention. You whine after a moment, dangerous chrome claws tugging delicately at ivory locks to pull him from your chest despite his half-hearted groan of protest. 

Tenko rests his hands on either side of your head, caging you in beneath him when he lifts himself. A moment of shyness crosses over your features, bottom lip rolling between your teeth as you legs frame his hips and your ankles interlock at the base of his spine to pull him closer. He gives an experimental roll of his hips, jaw falling in a silent groan at the electricity that jolts through his system at the feel of warm velvet caressing his shaft; both hissing when his mushroomed tip bumps your puffy clit. 

He lowers to kiss you again, finding a slow rutting rhythm of his hips, coating his cock in your approving wetness until you’re whining with need and impatience against his lips. You nip at his bottom lip when he pulls away the slightest fraction, lids hooded as you gaze at one another before you reach carefully between your bodies to take him in your grasp. You like the way his jaw falls, sharper exhale leaving his lungs as you guide him where you need him most, aligning the leaky tip with your entrance. 

Tenko lowers himself to his elbows, canting his hips to push into you, groaning into your mouth as he stretches you inch by inch. You arch into him, moaning in turn, digging your heel into his back like you couldn’t wait another moment for him to completely fill you. His tongue slides over yours, sighing as he sucks on the muscle when he bottoms out, rolling his hips in small circles that gives friction to your clit with each thrust. 

You curse at the feeling, Tenko parting with a rumbling chuckle as you bury your nose into his throat before he changes pace. He drags his hips back, pulling out until only the tip remains engulfed in your warmth and shoving back in quickly with a groan at the lewd squelch the action makes. He jolts your body with each thrust, curve of his cock hitting perfectly into that spongy spot that has you whimpering his name with every contact. It’s hard to be mindful of the weapons at your fingertips with the blinding pleasure, pushing your palms into his back with your fingers splayed open so you don’t filet his back. 

The coil winds tightly in your abdomen though and gasping in sharp intakes hardly gives you the outlet you need. Tenko knows you’re close, your thighs trembling against his hips and each tight squeeze of your cunt around him brings him closer to his own demise. He feels like he’s driving directly toward a cliff he’ll careen off of at any given moment and he’s slamming the petal to the floor to reach it faster.

He’s groaning your name between curses, caging you beneath him with his hair falling in a curtain so all you can see is him. The name Tenko has never sounded sweeter than the breathy way you moan it, trying in vain to tell him what he can already feel before it happens. Tenko shifts his weight to support it on one forearm, bringing this hand down to grasp firmly at your hip and tilting you to take one sharp thrust that snaps the coil inside you. 

Your jaw falls open, back arching into him as your body trembles, light dancing behind closed lids whose splendor makes what Night City has to offer incomparable as you cream his cock. You pull him to you, arm hooking behind his neck as your teeth sink deep into the skin of his collarbone to muffle your moan and the sensation pushes Tenko over the edge, fisting the sheets behind your head as he empties into you. He ruts into you slowly, fucking you both through the waves of your climax, hips stuttering with risidual the risidual convulsions of your cunt. 

You kiss tenderly at the indents of your teeth on him when you come down from your rapture, running your palms up his spine to pull him closer. Rolling your hips slowly into his until the tension melts from his body, appreciating the feel of your lips up his throat and lavishing the scars that litter the expanse with affection, pulling away only when the rolls of his hips come to a halt. 

Tenko reluctantly pulls his softening cock out of you to lay on his side, already missing the closeness even when he pulls you close to tuck into his chest. Your breathing slowly evens in the afterglow of your coupling, silence settling between you save for an electrical hum that’s ever present in your world. You almost think he fell asleep, giggling when he groans as you shift to lay on your stomach like you’ve disturbed him. One of his eyes cracks open, lively crimson simply taking in the unguarded ease that floods your form and features before a smile finds its way to his lips. 

Tenko moves to pull you closer once more, fingers brushing over the top of your thoracic spine, feeling indents instead of smooth skin though that wasn’t unusual for most people. You turn further, pressing your back flush with his chest and pulling his arm to drape over your waist, giving him a better look at what he felt unintentionally.

“More chrome?” He asks the seemingly innocent question, burying his nose into your hair to fill all of his senses with you. 

Your fingers reach for his, fiddling with his bitten cuticles, smoothing over them with a delicate touch as you consider your response. Tenko was here, you’d allowed him into your life in every way but one and you figure he’s earned this vulnerability as well. Your sigh draws his attention, feeling him shift behind you and you tilt your head to look at him when you finally answer, “deep dive port.” 

“Deep dive? What’s a net runner doin picksocketing for ennies?” 

“Survivin,” you laugh but it’s dry and humorless, tainted with more bitterness than you intended. He shifts to sit up, leaning on his forearm with that look on his face that you’d learned meant he wanted to know more. You turn to lay on your back, pupils sliding from his eyes to his lips and over all of the seams that decorated his exposed torso that told this history of his childhood before finally choosing to stare at your bare ceiling. There’s another deep intake of breath, followed by a heavy exhale as you tell him your past, how you’d been sold to a corporation long since forgotten after the crash of the old net. There were a handful of other kids, some excelling and prospering with their upgrades while others expired at different stages, thrown out like faulty hardware instead of human beings. 

Instead of children. 

“Technology advanced but some of our bodies weren’t compatible with the upgrades so they opted to eliminate us and start again. I couldn’t tell ya how I escaped, don’t really remember much besides all the carnage.”

He’s quiet for a long moment, like he’s digesting your past even though it churns his intestines and gives rise to the urge to claw at his skin again. They twitch in your hold, bringing his attention to your hands, “the claws?”

You don’t respond right away, lost in the thoughts of your life before you remember the BD Tenko had shown you weeks prior, the encounter that shifted your relationship to what it is now. Whatever it is now, anyway. You remember the feel of the breeze on your skin and if you think hard enough you can almost consider what the fresh green grass would smell like. Tenko’s fingers lace with yours as she stalls, pulling you from your thoughts once more as you continue to explain. 

“Don’t last long in the underbelly, enniless and without some sorta claws. I’ve always been pretty literal,” you smile at him but it’s devoid of any joy, wry in its nature. “We were never meant to fuse with machines.”

Tenko’s jaw sets tightly, grinding his teeth over all that you’ve told. What this world has done to the both of you, his fury burning deep in his chest and you take notice of it. Attempt to diffuse it with a gentle brush of your knuckles to his cheek with a delicate smile.

“Will you show me the BD again, Ten?” 

“Tomura,” he gives you a new name for himself to accompany his conviction and though your confusion is evident he brings your hand to his lips to kiss your knuckles that are still organic, where your claws stop, as he decides on a future for the both of you. “I’ll do you one better, I’ll take you there myself.”

#vixen writes #hiatus; on queue

[shapeshiftersvt]

Cryptid Collection Spotlight: The Squonk

We're going to be spending this week infodumping about the six cryptids we chose to feature in our Cryptid Collection! We'll be posting about the lore and origins, our thoughts, experiences, and relationships with all of these cryptids, and we encourage folks to share their own!

Today we're talking about the most #relatable cryptid, the Squonk.

👣The Cryptid Collection 🗺️Cryptid Travel Posters 👥Cryptid Binders & Sportsbras 🧵Cryptid fabric designs

Much like the Jackalope that we spotlighted yesterday, the Squonk is a creature from tall tales of the previous centuries.

Descriptions of the Squonk nearly all originate from the same source. Fearsome Creatures of the Lumberwoods was a 1910 collaboration between William Thomas Cox, Minnesota's first State Forester and Commissioner of conservation, who wrote the text; Coert du Bois, US Consul and forester, who drew the illustrations; and George Bishop Sudworth, Chief Dendrologist of the Forest Service, who created the Latin classifications. In the introduction, Cox claims that the fantastical field guide was born out of a desire to preserve some of the tall tales invented by lumberjacks and the stories they told about them around campfires "to regale newcomers and frighten people unfamiliar with the woods". The guide details twenty creatures from heavily wooded regions all over the US. There on page 31, between the Hodag of Wisconsin and Minnesota, and the Whirling Whimpus of Tennessee, lies our friend, the Squonk.

Later texts inspired by Fearsome Creatures expanded on the lore, describing, among other things, a mass migration from its original widespread territory that resulted in the evolution of webbed toes, but only on its left feet; wax and hair-covered ears; crooked yellow tusks; and asexual reproduction through cell division. But Cox's original, much more straightforward description, seems to have truly stood the test of time.

The Squonk, like many regional cryptids, has a fairly small territory, being limited to the hemlock forests of northern Pennsylvania. Cox claims that those familiar with the Squonk describe it as being "the most morbid of beasts". These days, we might interpret that to mean a fearsome creature that lurks in the darkest, thickest part of the woods, hunting unsuspecting lumberjacks who unknowingly wander into its territory and toying with them the way a cat toys with a mouse. Quite the contrary, though, the Squonk is described as morbid because of its constant weeping, the source of which is the skin which hangs off of it in wrinkles as if it were a piece of much too large clothing, and its many warts and moles.

While the Squonk is most active during the twilight and dusk hours, it can also be found traveling at night. In fact, Cox relates that "frosty moonlight nights" are the best conditions for Squonk hunters, as it doesn't like to move much at all on those nights, and its tears flow more slowly. Why might slowly flowing tears be an advantage, especially when the trail those tears leave behind in the Squonk's wake are an easy way for hunters to track it? Why, because the more scared the Squonk is, the more tears it cries, and likely it is to be completely dissolved by those tears.

In fact, this curious characteristic is described in the only encounter related by Cox:

Mr. J. P. Wentling, formerly of Pennsylvania, but now at St. Anthony Park, Minnesota, had a disappointing experience with a Squonk near Mont Alto. He made a clever capture by mimicking the Squonk and inducing it to hop into a sack, in which he was carrying it home, when suddenly the burden lightened and the weeping ceased. Wentling unslung the sack and looked in. There was nothing by tears and bubbles.

It's probably fairly obvious why an inherently queer company selling garments intended to relieve body dysphoria would relate to a creature like the Squonk, which is so uncomfortable in its own skin that it simply can't stop crying. But we're certainly not the first to feel empathy and kinship with the Squonk. In fact 2024 marks the second annual Squonkapalooza in Johnstown, PA, hoping to "turn those frowns upside down. Spreading the love of the Squonk might cheer them up."

Which is fair! I think that if most of us discovered a festival organized and attended out of pure love and empathy for us we'd probably feel a little bit better about ourselves.

#squonk #cryptids #cryptozoology #pennsylvania #shapeshifters #the cryptid collection

[sagau-my-beloved]

Which corrupted characters would immeadiately go yes murder?

I'm thinking maybe shenhe, perhaps your corruption overpowers her ropes and she goes full murder mode

-Rapid

Oh absolutely, Shenhe is already borderline three steps and a bad day from killing people, corruption would absolutely make her ruthless in order to get your attention. Her irritation is already at an all time high the moment you even insinuate not wanting her around, and that irritation will be taken out on the first person who crosses her path. It's all for you, to show you what she's capable of, how much she needs you to guide her and morph her into what you wish her to be, how ready she is to be thoroughly controlled by the divine and perfect you.

Now obviously Childe, and I'm gonna say everyone in the fatui too, cause duh, but Childe thinks of it just like a game. Surreee he's holding people hostage and threatening/acting on mass genocide, but it's all in your name, see how far he's willing to go to worship you? See how dedicated he is, how much resolve he has? You'll look at him some more won't you? If you still won't then maybe he's just not showcasing his resolve properly. Killing indiscriminately and offering up body parts on your alter shows how he's not phased by that stuff, how he's just the perfect tool for you to use however you please, he'll do it all for you so please just ask him to.

Now this might be a little out of left field but I'd say Albedo. He'd try to win your favor through scientific breakthroughs, futuristic inventions that maybe mimic things in your own world that you miss. Sadly, testing these things ethically just takes so much more time, he needs your attention now, so he might as well kill two birds with one stone and maybe make use of the waste of human life that are your nonbelievers. You'll look past it right? Is not as if he's actually hurting people, those who don't bend to your will are less than human.

Of course I've gotta hit all the angsty characters and say Xiao. His entire existence was proving his worth through slaughter, it's what he knows. If corrupted he'd choose to prove his worth to you by showing how well he can protect you, from monster and human alike. If he sees you have a problem with another human then he'll solve it for you, you'll appreciate him for doing that won't you? He's doing it for you, he'd do anything for you, simply say the word. You rejecting him like this must mean he simply hasn't proven himself enough, he'll do better, anything that moves around you will be dealt with swiftly and mercilessly. A threat can come from anywhere of course, so you'll say his name right? Just once more, he needs to hear it one more time.

I gotta put Ei on this list too, she's simply not known for having the strongest moral compass. Ei would start wars in your name, if only to get you back, as if you were nothing more than simply a trophy, from whoever holds your attention. She has the power of people willing to kill in both her and your name, it would take little more than a sharp look and a few choice words to cause a completely different kind of war, one she will certainly not lose, not with something so precious on the line. She's giving herself up so freely, she's yours, why won't you take her? And Ei is completely prepared to make any sacrifice in your name, so what must she do in order to prove it? Spilling so much blood needlessly is such a waste after all, but it will be done, and it will continue to be done until you grace her with your gaze once again.

#genshin impact #sagau #genshin x reader #yandere genshin au #yandere genshin x reader #genshin venti #venti x reader #genshin ei #ei x reader #genshin albedo #albedo x reader #genshin xiao #xiao x reader #genshin childe #childe x reader #genshin shenhe #shenhe x reader #brainrot #this is why i don't write for a bunch of characters #tagging takes as long as the writing #rapid anon

[lily-orchard]

Given what you've said about it, I wish there was something like Imoen Romance but for normal characters. The depth of how you can build a relationship with another party member, even to the point of helping them get a cute girlfriend with someone else in the party, sounds so good if it weren't for the whole "they're both Bhaalspawn" thing. Am I wrong to think that?

Not in the slightest. That's how I feel about it.

The strength of Imoen's mod is the breadth. The fact that it's literally everything you wanted other RPGs to have for all their characters.

This mod is the reason I find it way more interesting if companions develop friendships with each other, which just doesn't happen in most RPGs. The last time I can think of it happening is Mass Effect 3, where if they're both unromanced, Garrus and Tali will get together in a scene where Shepard walks in on them and it is FUCKING ADORABLE.

But at the same time, I understand why game developers don't do this. Game development is expensive, it costs money to put every character on screen, and most players treat NPC relationships as a dating sim and so don't care about characters beyond vibes. In general fans of big budget RPGs don't really care about characters beyond vibes and one dimensional interpretations of those characters.

It's also worth mentioning that Imoen in BG1 and BG2 was basically those games' Wyll. Neglected by the writers, had the least banter dialogue, and having her story rewritten during development due to player outcry. But Imoen was always adored by the playerbase, much to BioWare's own surprise.

Imoen's archetype, the childhood best friend who is out here because they care about you, is one people have always loved, but it's one that RPGs never indulge in. Even every BioWare game after this point you don't start the game with a pre-existing friend, even though I really think they should be doing that.

Her mod is one big labour of love, a work that took over 10 years to complete, had two primary writers, and a full revision, and the time taken to put as many diverging paths and content into it as possible. And that's not something most characters will get because most RPG characters just aren't this beloved.

It would be a lot of effort to craft a story that in depth and malleable, only for the playerbase to turn their nose up at it because the character in question wasn't the dynamic they liked or wasn't pale enough, which is something people will do. People will invent depth from whole cloth. You can make the most expansive and nuanced character possible, but if they're the wrong skin color a large chunk of the fanbase will just deny that depth even exists.

I can almost understand why creators just make walking body pillows and call it a day. It's cheaper, it's easier, and at the end of the day the fanbase doesn't care and will make things up regardless of the actual work you put in.

[mdzs-owns-my-ass-i-guess]

I hope some day I'll make it out of here (even if it takes all night or a hundred years)

Title inspired by this song

Wei Wuxian tried to leave the Burial Mounds today. He was sure he would succeed this time, his new inventions prepared for this specific purpose. He even carved a flute to help will ghosts and corpses away, and set up a plan he believed foolproof.

He would cast spirit-attracting talismans at some strategic points in the Burial Mounds, and he would play a song he created to lure the creatures as far away from him as possible. Then - then he would run, run as far as his feet took him, as fast as his frail body could until the talismans burned out.

He was confident it would work now too. He would finally escape.

The tenth time.

The tenth failure.

The Burial Mounds wouldn't let him leave.

The more he ran, the more he became lost, though he knew the place like the back of his hand. The more he played his song, the more his flute cracked, until it fell apart, broken.

The more he screamed and cried and cursed his fate, the deeper he sank into the resentment, the more corpses emerged from the ground, from the caves, from everywhere - wanting to kill him, feast on him, turn him into one of them.

The more he tried, the more he struggled, the tighter the hold of the spirits on him.

They let him go when he tearful, beaten down, turned his back on the exit that seemed so ridiculously far away now, and returned to his cave.

The ghosts howled and laughed, screaming at him that he would never escape, that they would never let him leave, that he would be trapped just like they were.

"What if I gave you my soul?" he asked into the empty space, and wisps of resentment danced, excitedly, around him, like the ribbons of a dance performer. "Would you let me go if I let you have my soul after I die?"

There is humming, loud and endless, as if the Burial Mounds are considering it. Resentful energy curls around itself a few times, undecided.

Wei Wuxian slices into his hand and draws something onto a piece of talisman paper.

"Here. A contract."

The spirits huddle around it, the blood enticing. They look ridiculous, almost, a formless mass circling a piece of paper like it's the most curious thing.

When the talisman burns up in dark flames, Wei Wuxian's eyes close, in defeat.

He walks out of the Burial Mounds without obstacle.

#mdzs #mo dao zu shi #writing attempts #wwx

[moonlitcomet]

Cierian culinary culture

Blackwatch

Blackwatch food is strong. Strong smelling, strong flavor, and oftentimes strongly spicy too. Think southern USamerican food kicked up to 100. A common experience for Blackwatch-going tourists is to go to some back-alley Blackwatch restaurant whose food and atmosphere just makes your eyes water and sting. It's usually overpowering to non-residents, but a minor upside is that restaurants in the city usually have atmospheric humidifiers which cause water droplets in the air to bind to the sulfuric compounds that fill the city, instead of irritating your eyes and nose.

Streets with lots of restaurants are either filled with near-inedible levels of strong spice and flavor, or junky ass trash food meant for people who can't afford anything else. Even still, despite how much their food can barely be eaten by tourists, people who live there[and, interestingly, dragons who visit] swear by it being absolutely delicious. It's pretty common for Blackwatch residents who leave the city to try foreign food and view it as bland and flavorless. Blackwatch has, somehow, managed to make a profit out of prepackaged frozen exported foods for this reason.

Fauns

Faun food depends on the faun culture you're interacting with. Ch'chkun fauns, the city ones, have made their city entirely self-sustainable and they're one of the first inventors of lab-grown meat and fruits. Lots of their city is dedicated to layered greenhouses and the only animals they farm are bees and other pollinators. Fauns are typically omnivorous with a preference for plants, but the invention and standardization of lab-grown meat makes it way easier to mass produce food for their extremely population dense city- Ch'chkun City almost has more residents than the three biggest southern cities combined. Lab-grown meat with their methods is more humane and more sustainable than farms.

Fauns in the east, in more rural areas, are usually foragers. This is partially a lifestyle choice and partially an agreement for preservation of the ecosystem- whatever they take will be given back in time, so most of the stuff they eat will be wild fruits, nuts, and wild game they hunt themselves. This is important for the environment too, because fauns will hunt game animals like lagomorphs that otherwise have had most of their natural predators hunted out of the area by settlers and would overpopulate without them.

As for the actual food they make, fauns love grains. Unenchanted rice, oats, wheat, millet, barley, among other grains will make their way into almost every single cultural dish they make. It's cheap, it's easy, and so easy to make delicious with sauces and spices. If you're meeting a faun buddy who's making dinner for you, hope you like grains. If you do, you're in luck, because you're about to have the most bangin' grain dishes you've ever had.

A very popular snack for faun children is flavored puffed millet.

Bahp

Bahp's culinary culture centers around making something that is both delicious and arcane. Many foods in Bahp are enchanted and have magical effects on those eating them, which is a remnant of the days of old when the country knew how to grow enchanted RICE. With such an ability long gone, their focus has shifted to general dishes.

There are restaurants all over the country that specialize in different enchantments for their food - some focus on dishes that power you up, others that make you feel alert and healthy, yet others can temporarily change physical aspects of your body. This culture and cuisine has become especially profitable with the large numbers of duelists that have their humble beginnings here.

With the diversity in their enchantments comes diversity in food. Bahp's culinary culture takes in aspects from all over the world, even from usually "undesirable" food cultures such as Blackwatch and Drustown. Bahp has access to all sorts of locally grown crops and livestock, including exotic livestock such as those raised in Khartes Trichier. This makes it one of the few places on the mainland where you can buy and eat the mild, sweeter cheeses made from khormun milk as well as hirba honey, which is a staple in the enchanted Bahp foods.

Sorcerers

Being herbivores, sorcerers primarily cook with plants and plant matter, including leaves, fruits, nuts, and other crops. They use a lot of unique spices in their dishes, often putting in tons of time and effort to extract flavors from spices through long cooking processes. Cooking techniques typically include boiling, simmering, and frying in pots and woks, as well as cooking over wood fires.

Sorcerer food comes in many flavors, though sweet, sour, and savory dishes are the most common. Sweet & sour foods are a staple in sorcerer culinary arts, with natural sweeteners like milk or honey being used over granulated sugar.

Homemade tea is another popular aspect of Sorcerer culture, with their access to a variety of herbs and spices giving them many options for special tea blends and brews.

Due to how many of their foods use ingredients only grown in Khartes Trichier, it can be difficult to create authentic dishes outside of the sorcerers' land. Imported sorcerer ingredients are rare and expensive, with only cheese and honey being readily available. Many people attempting to make sorcerer-invented dishes end up having to make substitutions, which leads to lower-quality imitations of the originals.

#mine #soul rune cier #long post

[witchofthesouls]

More messing around with @rocksinmuffin’s Megahusband AU (seriously check it out):

You don’t know what happened; actually, you do. It was the usual Decepticon plan-of-the-week but it featured a patented Wheeljack-what-the-frag-is-that invention.

Of course, it ended up on fire because why not?! But between Starscream’s stray null-ray shot, the Constructicon’s random mixes, and the Sideswipe’s updated molotov cocktail, the last thing you remember was a beam of bright, Barbie pink hitting you so hard to fly off the table and right into Lalaland via concussion.

Wheeljack had managed to squirrel you away upon the Autobots’ retreat and you woke up to a new reality of being absolutely Tall and Metal.

You’ve been secluded inside the Autobot medbay getting prodded, poked, and scanned every inch of your new body.

You should have far more panic but a good chunk of your adult life has been composed of absolutely random events fit for a protagonist of a reverse isekai, scifi anime. Or maybe an action-comedy since you originally dated Megatron to gain an upper-hand for the Autobots, and married him out of absolute spite to ruin that smug look on his face when he proposed through the Jumbotron at the game.

Speaking of the devil, you and everyone else in a 50-mile radius can hear Megatron bellowing outside the thick, protective walls.

“We could use the fire hose.” Ironhide says, far too casual in that way where someone really wants to do it but just waiting for another person to vaguely agree to go ham on it.

“No. I got it.”

“Are you sure, Y/N? You could take a few more days off to get used to it.”

“I got the anti-gravs and the shrinking down pat down. Might as well get it over with.”

_________________

Starscream listens to his Trine-mates bicker with the rest of the Armada, scrapping like a few of the groundpounders. All of them bored and cowed by Megatron’s shortfuse as their glorious leader keeps howling your name.

Staracream can only admire all of those spiteful acts of pettiness that cumulatived into a sham marriage between you and Megatron. And after years and years of domestic, married life, the active warfare turning cold, and this farce of a semi-functioning family, Starscream could say that Megatron had developed a begrudging sense of affection towards you. Or at least some sort of feeling to trigger his posessiveness. 

Enough for the warlord to keep you on his shoulder whenever you’re at the base and actually recharge at that tiny dwelling where he needs to shift a ridiculous amount of mass into his subspace to fit through the door instead of his berth on base.

(During one of his snooping raids, Starscream had found a sparkling dollhouse, outfitted with the amenities for a human to stay as well as a bust of your scowling face.)

Unsurprisingly, a chunk of the Decepticon forces are outside the Ark as you haven’t left the orange monstrosity for a week and the Autobots stopped picking up their transmissions.

Finally, there’s movement. But it’s no human strolling out of the open hatch, it’s a new Cybertronian. One with a familiar walk and familiar expression of exasperation and they call out:

“Morning, my Titan sweetcheeks!”

It’s definitely you, and you’re annoyed.

Megatron’s sputtering, voice trailing off as you step in front in him, rivaling his height as a Seeker femme. All the mechs around stare unabashedly at your new frame. Games stop. Brawls still. His Trine-mates fall silent.

Everything. From digits to pedes to broad wings, all the armor and peeking protoform are a solid shade of Decepticon logo purple. The only exception is your newfound optics: a bright, searing shade of fuchsia. 

“Pits, Screamer,” Skywarp’s poor attempt of a whisper echoes out. “Your step-creator’s slaggen hawt!”

Skywarp’s squeak of terror from the simultaneous hums of his null-ray and a fusion canon is music to his audials.

#transformers #transformers g1 #megahusband #reader insert #megatron #starscream #G1 #HUMANFORMERS #humans into cybertronians #special mention to: #Ironhide #skywarp #oh no you're hot #maccadam #My writing #rocksinmuffin

[sailor-toni]

Why Nobody Works for the Fenton's

You can also read this on A03, Fanfic.net, and on Wattpad

“Think fast! What is the frequency that can disrupt a ghost's physical form?” Mrs. Fenton gleefully asked.

“Um… 150 decibels?” Valerie hugged the clipboard to her chest, surprised by the smile Mrs. Fenton had.

“No, but a good guess. It’s actually much higher than that! The high noise affects the ectoplasmic cells, and causes them to vibrate, losing their connections and bonds to one another, resulting in a ghost losing their physical form and turning into a mass of ectoplasmic goo.”

“You have a weapon that can do that?” Valerie asked.

“Well, no. This is only theory, as a weapon that could do that would cause serious hearing damage to anyone holding the weapon. And since the local farmers won’t give us permission to test on their land anymore, we haven’t had the right environment to test it,”

“Why won’t the local farmers let you test on their lands anymore?”

“Because they are cowards who can’t see what progress we are doing!” Jack yelled from the back of the lab. He was covered in thick cables that spired around his arms and legs. Each one looked to be over a hundred pounds, but the man carried them with ease.

“We accidentally covered one of their fields with experimental ectoplasm,” Maddie whispered into Valerie’s ear. “The corn outside of Amity Park is now considered ‘toxic’.” She put air quoted around toxic.  

“Valerie!” Jack turned his body, the cables dragging against the metal floor. “If any son of a gun from the EPA calls or arrives at the door, tell him to eat grass! The Fenton’s don’t answer to the government!” Valerie sucked her breath. She didn’t want to say anything that would offend the Fentons, especially since they were kind enough to give her a paid internship.

                 Casper High required that all of its students do a two-week internship in order to graduate. Most students do it in their senior year and help out one of the local businesses. She would’ve asked her Dad for an internship at his place, but then Phantom showed up. Her second choice was city hall. Dash, Kwan, and the rest of the football team got internships with city hall a year ago, but then Phantom held the old Mayor hostage, and the internship program was cut to pay for more security.  But that was fine. Nobody wanted to intern with the Fentons, the crazed duo had scared off anyone who would be willing to work with them. Everyone but Valerie, who needed them for one reason and one reason alone.  Information on ghosts! 

Also, she needed money after ghost hunting cost her the Nasty Burger job, and the Fentons were one of the few places that even offered paid internships.

“So, um Mr. and Mrs. Fenton, what will I be doing here?” 

“Great question Valerie! You will uhhhh, Honey what will she be doing?” Jack stuck his bottom lip out, his face was frozen as if he forgot what he was going to say. 

“You will be helping us keep the lab clean, change the ghost portal filter, answer any email or call that comes in, keeping stock of inventions and weapons, and helping us out in experiments.” Valerie nodded along, a lot of her tasks sounded very boring and typical; the last two options made her eyes light up. 

“And if you’re good at all that, we might even hire you as our assistant!” 

“Jack, we haven’t fully discussed that yet.” 

“Oh come on Maddie! Look at her, I bet she will be amazing!” 

Valerie stood there and smiled, if she could make this her new job, she would have access to all the weapons she would need, maybe they could teach her how to make the weapons, and she could make them at home. Valerie could already see Phantom’s face when she opened hell on earth with the stockpiles these two had. 

Her first day was spent walking through the lab and command center, her brain overloaded with what every button, gun, and icon did. At the end Valerie was sure these fools were secretly loaded, how else did they get their hands on all this material, and guns, and chemicals. Maddie had a secret room in the downstairs lab, locked to prevent her kids (aka DANNY) from pouring acid on themselves, full of every kind of poison, acid, and chemical imaginable. 

“Your first task tomorrow is to organize all of these. Don’t worry, we have a spare hazmat suit in the bunker,” Maddie said. 

“You have a bunker?” said Valerie.

“Yes, in case anyone attacks or the Russians finally nuke us. I’ll show you that later, I don’t want to give you too much information today.” Maddie chuckled as if it was all a joke. She continued explaining what each chemical did and where it had to go, but Valerie's eyes traveled to the back of the hidden room. 

“Mrs. Fenton, what is that?” 

“That is a live ghost we keep here in the lab. We use it to harvest ectoplasms and our experiments. Don’t worry it can’t feel anything we do to it, I lobotomized it years ago,” again she said it with a chuckle and a smile. The ghost had pale green skin and even paler hair, dark circles outlined his eyes like wastelands outside a drained oasis. “We found it outside a natural portal back in 1992 right before it closed. He put up quite a fight, but nothing compares to my Jack, and a fully loaded gun,” Maddie walked over and tapped the glass. “Jack and I joke that he is the hardest worker in our lab. Aren't you Harold?” Harold floated in the green liquid, his legs dissolving into nothing more than a pile of goo. “We usually keep a tarp over him when we don’t have to use him. I wonder who moved it. Oh! I found it!” She grabbed the black tarp and swung it over the tank, as the dark shroud covered Harold’s helpless features, Valerie thought she saw his hand move.  

#Fanfiction #Danny phantom #valerie gray #Maddie Fenton #Jack Fenton #TW gore #tw experimentation #dp fanfiction #writing #mywriting