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mostlysignssomeportents · 9 months

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Autoenshittification

Forget F1: the only car race that matters now is the race to turn your car into a digital extraction machine, a high-speed inkjet printer on wheels, stealing your private data as it picks your pocket. Your car’s digital infrastructure is a costly, dangerous nightmare — but for automakers in pursuit of postcapitalist utopia, it’s a dream they can’t give up on.

Your car is stuffed full of microchips, a fact the world came to appreciate after the pandemic struck and auto production ground to a halt due to chip shortages. Of course, that wasn’t the whole story: when the pandemic started, the automakers panicked and canceled their chip orders, only to immediately regret that decision and place new orders.

But it was too late: semiconductor production had taken a serious body-blow, and when Big Car placed its new chip orders, it went to the back of a long, slow-moving line. It was a catastrophic bungle: microchips are so integral to car production that a car is basically a computer network on wheels that you stick your fragile human body into and pray.

The car manufacturers got so desperate for chips that they started buying up washing machines for the microchips in them, extracting the chips and discarding the washing machines like some absurdo-dystopian cyberpunk walnut-shelling machine:

https://www.autoevolution.com/news/desperate-times-companies-buy-washing-machines-just-to-rip-out-the-chips-187033.html

These digital systems are a huge problem for the car companies. They are the underlying cause of a precipitous decline in car quality. From touch-based digital door-locks to networked sensors and cameras, every digital system in your car is a source of endless repair nightmares, costly recalls and cybersecurity vulnerabilities:

https://www.reuters.com/business/autos-transportation/quality-new-vehicles-us-declining-more-tech-use-study-shows-2023-06-22/

What’s more, drivers hate all the digital bullshit, from the janky touchscreens to the shitty, wildly insecure apps. Digital systems are drivers’ most significant point of dissatisfaction with the automakers’ products:

https://www.theverge.com/23801545/car-infotainment-customer-satisifaction-survey-jd-power

Even the automakers sorta-kinda admit that this is a problem. Back in 2020 when Massachusetts was having a Right-to-Repair ballot initiative, Big Car ran these unfuckingbelievable scare ads that basically said, “Your car spies on you so comprehensively that giving anyone else access to its systems will let murderers stalk you to your home and kill you:

https://pluralistic.net/2020/09/03/rip-david-graeber/#rolling-surveillance-platforms

But even amid all the complaining about cars getting stuck in the Internet of Shit, there’s still not much discussion of why the car-makers are making their products less attractive, less reliable, less safe, and less resilient by stuffing them full of microchips. Are car execs just the latest generation of rubes who’ve been suckered by Silicon Valley bullshit and convinced that apps are a magic path to profitability?

Nope. Car execs are sophisticated businesspeople, and they’re surfing capitalism’s latest — and last — hot trend: dismantling capitalism itself.

Now, leftists have been predicting the death of capitalism since The Communist Manifesto, but even Marx and Engels warned us not to get too frisky: capitalism, they wrote, is endlessly creative, constantly reinventing itself, re-emerging from each crisis in a new form that is perfectly adapted to the post-crisis reality:

https://www.nytimes.com/2022/10/31/books/review/a-spectre-haunting-china-mieville.html

But capitalism has finally run out of gas. In his forthcoming book, Techno Feudalism: What Killed Capitalism, Yanis Varoufakis proposes that capitalism has died — but it wasn’t replaced by socialism. Rather, capitalism has given way to feudalism:

https://www.penguin.co.uk/books/451795/technofeudalism-by-varoufakis-yanis/9781847927279

Under capitalism, capital is the prime mover. The people who own and mobilize capital — the capitalists — organize the economy and take the lion’s share of its returns. But it wasn’t always this way: for hundreds of years, European civilization was dominated by rents, not markets.

A “rent” is income that you get from owning something that other people need to produce value. Think of renting out a house you own: not only do you get paid when someone pays you to live there, you also get the benefit of rising property values, which are the result of the work that all the other homeowners, business owners, and residents do to make the neighborhood more valuable.

The first capitalists hated rent. They wanted to replace the “passive income” that landowners got from taxing their serfs’ harvest with active income from enclosing those lands and grazing sheep in order to get wool to feed to the new textile mills. They wanted active income — and lots of it.

Capitalist philosophers railed against rent. The “free market” of Adam Smith wasn’t a market that was free from regulation — it was a market free from rents. The reason Smith railed against monopolists is because he (correctly) understood that once a monopoly emerged, it would become a chokepoint through which a rentier could cream off the profits he considered the capitalist’s due:

https://locusmag.com/2021/03/cory-doctorow-free-markets/

Today, we live in a rentier’s paradise. People don’t aspire to create value — they aspire to capture it. In Survival of the Richest, Doug Rushkoff calls this “going meta”: don’t provide a service, just figure out a way to interpose yourself between the provider and the customer:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/09/13/collapse-porn/#collapse-porn

Don’t drive a cab, create Uber and extract value from every driver and rider. Better still: don’t found Uber, invest in Uber options and extract value from the people who invest in Uber. Even better, invest in derivatives of Uber options and extract value from people extracting value from people investing in Uber, who extract value from drivers and riders. Go meta.

This is your brain on the four-hour-work-week, passive income mind-virus. In Techno Feudalism, Varoufakis deftly describes how the new “Cloud Capital” has created a new generation of rentiers, and how they have become the richest, most powerful people in human history.

Shopping at Amazon is like visiting a bustling city center full of stores — but each of those stores’ owners has to pay the majority of every sale to a feudal landlord, Emperor Jeff Bezos, who also decides which goods they can sell and where they must appear on the shelves. Amazon is full of capitalists, but it is not a capitalist enterprise. It’s a feudal one:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/11/28/enshittification/#relentless-payola

This is the reason that automakers are willing to enshittify their products so comprehensively: they were one of the first industries to decouple rents from profits. Recall that the reason that Big Car needed billions in bailouts in 2008 is that they’d reinvented themselves as loan-sharks who incidentally made cars, lending money to car-buyers and then “securitizing” the loans so they could be traded in the capital markets.

Even though this strategy brought the car companies to the brink of ruin, it paid off in the long run. The car makers got billions in public money, paid their execs massive bonuses, gave billions to shareholders in buybacks and dividends, smashed their unions, fucked their pensioned workers, and shipped jobs anywhere they could pollute and murder their workforce with impunity.

Car companies are on the forefront of postcapitalism, and they understand that digital is the key to rent-extraction. Remember when BMW announced that it was going to rent you the seatwarmer in your own fucking car?

https://pluralistic.net/2020/07/02/big-river/#beemers

Not to be outdone, Mercedes announced that they were going to rent you your car’s accelerator pedal, charging an extra $1200/year to unlock a fully functional acceleration curve:

https://www.theverge.com/2022/11/23/23474969/mercedes-car-subscription-faster-acceleration-feature-price

This is the urinary tract infection business model: without digitization, all your car’s value flowed in a healthy stream. But once the car-makers add semiconductors, each one of those features comes out in a painful, burning dribble, with every button on that fakakta touchscreen wired directly into your credit-card.

But it’s just for starters. Computers are malleable. The only computer we know how to make is the Turing Complete Von Neumann Machine, which can run every program we know how to write. Once they add networked computers to your car, the Car Lords can endlessly twiddle the knobs on the back end, finding new ways to extract value from you:

https://doctorow.medium.com/twiddler-1b5c9690cce6

That means that your car can track your every movement, and sell your location data to anyone and everyone, from marketers to bounty-hunters looking to collect fees for tracking down people who travel out of state for abortions to cops to foreign spies:

https://www.vice.com/en/article/n7enex/tool-shows-if-car-selling-data-privacy4cars-vehicle-privacy-report

Digitization supercharges financialization. It lets car-makers offer subprime auto-loans to desperate, poor people and then killswitch their cars if they miss a payment:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4U2eDJnwz_s

Subprime lending for cars would be a terrible business without computers, but digitization makes it a great source of feudal rents. Car dealers can originate loans to people with teaser rates that quickly blow up into payments the dealer knows their customer can’t afford. Then they repo the car and sell it to another desperate person, and another, and another:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/07/27/boricua/#looking-for-the-joke-with-a-microscope

Digitization also opens up more exotic options. Some subprime cars have secondary control systems wired into their entertainment system: miss a payment and your car radio flips to full volume and bellows an unstoppable, unmutable stream of threats. Tesla does one better: your car will lock and immobilize itself, then blare its horn and back out of its parking spot when the repo man arrives:

https://tiremeetsroad.com/2021/03/18/tesla-allegedly-remotely-unlocks-model-3-owners-car-uses-smart-summon-to-help-repo-agent/

Digital feudalism hasn’t stopped innovating — it’s just stopped innovating good things. The digital device is an endless source of sadistic novelties, like the cellphones that disable your most-used app the first day you’re late on a payment, then work their way down the other apps you rely on for every day you’re late:

https://restofworld.org/2021/loans-that-hijack-your-phone-are-coming-to-india/

Usurers have always relied on this kind of imaginative intimidation. The loan-shark’s arm-breaker knows you’re never going to get off the hook; his goal is in intimidating you into paying his boss first, liquidating your house and your kid’s college fund and your wedding ring before you default and he throws you off a building.

Thanks to the malleability of computerized systems, digital arm-breakers have an endless array of options they can deploy to motivate you into paying them first, no matter what it costs you:

https://pluralistic.net/2021/04/02/innovation-unlocks-markets/#digital-arm-breakers

Car-makers are trailblazers in imaginative rent-extraction. Take VIN-locking: this is the practice of adding cheap microchips to engine components that communicate with the car’s overall network. After a new part is installed in your car, your car’s computer does a complex cryptographic handshake with the part that requires an unlock code provided by an authorized technician. If the code isn’t entered, the car refuses to use that part.

VIN-locking has exploded in popularity. It’s in your iPhone, preventing you from using refurb or third-party replacement parts:

https://doctorow.medium.com/apples-cement-overshoes-329856288d13

It’s in fuckin’ ventilators, which was a nightmare during lockdown as hospital techs nursed their precious ventilators along by swapping parts from dead systems into serviceable ones:

https://www.vice.com/en/article/3azv9b/why-repair-techs-are-hacking-ventilators-with-diy-dongles-from-poland

And of course, it’s in tractors, along with other forms of remote killswitch. Remember that feelgood story about John Deere bricking the looted Ukrainian tractors whose snitch-chips showed they’d been relocated to Russia?

https://doctorow.medium.com/about-those-kill-switched-ukrainian-tractors-bc93f471b9c8

That wasn’t a happy story — it was a cautionary tale. After all, John Deere now controls the majority of the world’s agricultural future, and they’ve boobytrapped those ubiquitous tractors with killswitches that can be activated by anyone who hacks, takes over, or suborns Deere or its dealerships.

Control over repair isn’t limited to gouging customers on parts and service. When a company gets to decide whether your device can be fixed, it can fuck you over in all kinds of ways. Back in 2019, Tim Apple told his shareholders to expect lower revenues because people were opting to fix their phones rather than replace them:

https://www.apple.com/newsroom/2019/01/letter-from-tim-cook-to-apple-investors/

By usurping your right to decide who fixes your phone, Apple gets to decide whether you can fix it, or whether you must replace it. Problem solved — and not just for Apple, but for car makers, tractor makers, ventilator makers and more. Apple leads on this, even ahead of Big Car, pioneering a “recycling” program that sees trade-in phones shredded so they can’t possibly be diverted from an e-waste dump and mined for parts:

https://www.vice.com/en/article/yp73jw/apple-recycling-iphones-macbooks

John Deere isn’t sleeping on this. They’ve come up with a valuable treasure they extract when they win the Right-to-Repair: Deere singles out farmers who complain about its policies and refuses to repair their tractors, stranding them with six-figure, two-ton paperweight:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/05/31/dealers-choice/#be-a-shame-if-something-were-to-happen-to-it

The repair wars are just a skirmish in a vast, invisible fight that’s been waged for decades: the War On General-Purpose Computing, where tech companies use the law to make it illegal for you to reconfigure your devices so they serve you, rather than their shareholders:

https://memex.craphound.com/2012/01/10/lockdown-the-coming-war-on-general-purpose-computing/

The force behind this army is vast and grows larger every day. General purpose computers are antithetical to technofeudalism — all the rents extracted by technofeudalists would go away if others (tinkereres, co-ops, even capitalists!) were allowed to reconfigure our devices so they serve us.

You’ve probably noticed the skirmishes with inkjet printer makers, who can only force you to buy their ink at 20,000% markups if they can stop you from deciding how your printer is configured:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/08/07/inky-wretches/#epson-salty But we’re also fighting against insulin pump makers, who want to turn people with diabetes into walking inkjet printers:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/06/10/loopers/#hp-ification

And companies that make powered wheelchairs:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/06/08/chair-ish/#r2r

These companies start with people who have the least agency and social power and wreck their lives, then work their way up the privilege gradient, coming for everyone else. It’s called the “shitty technology adoption curve”:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/08/21/great-taylors-ghost/#solidarity-or-bust

Technofeudalism is the public-private-partnership from hell, emerging from a combination of state and private action. On the one hand, bailing out bankers and big business (rather than workers) after the 2008 crash and the covid lockdown decoupled income from profits. Companies spent billions more than they earned were still wildly profitable, thanks to those public funds.

But there’s also a policy dimension here. Some of those rentiers’ billions were mobilized to both deconstruct antitrust law (allowing bigger and bigger companies and cartels) and to expand “IP” law, turning “IP” into a toolsuite for controlling the conduct of a firm’s competitors, critics and customers:

https://locusmag.com/2020/09/cory-doctorow-ip/

IP is key to understanding the rise of technofeudalism. The same malleability that allows companies to “twiddle” the knobs on their services and keep us on the hook as they reel us in would hypothetically allow us to countertwiddle, seizing the means of computation:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/04/12/algorithmic-wage-discrimination/#fishers-of-men

The thing that stands between you and an alternative app store, an interoperable social media network that you can escape to while continuing to message the friends you left behind, or a car that anyone can fix or unlock features for is IP, not technology. Under capitalism, that technology would already exist, because capitalists have no loyalty to one another and view each other’s margins as their own opportunities.

But under technofeudalism, control comes from rents (owning things), not profits (selling things). The capitalist who wants to participate in your iPhone’s “ecosystem” has to make apps and submit them to Apple, along with 30% of their lifetime revenues — they don’t get to sell you jailbreaking kit that lets you choose their app store.

Rent-seeking technology has a holy grail: control over “ring zero” — the ability to compel you to configure your computer to a feudalist’s specifications, and to verify that you haven’t altered your computer after it came into your possession:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/01/30/ring-minus-one/#drm-political-economy

For more than two decades, various would-be feudal lords and their court sorcerers have been pitching ways of doing this, of varying degrees of outlandishness.

At core, here’s what they envision: inside your computer, they will nest another computer, one that is designed to run a very simple set of programs, none of which can be altered once it leaves the factory. This computer — either a whole separate chip called a “Trusted Platform Module” or a region of your main processor called a secure enclave — can tally observations about your computer: which operating system, modules and programs it’s running.

Then it can cryptographically “sign” these observations, proving that they were made by a secure chip and not by something you could have modified. Then you can send this signed “attestation” to someone else, who can use it to determine how your computer is configured and thus whether to trust it. This is called “remote attestation.”

There are some cool things you can do with remote attestation: for example, two strangers playing a networked video game together can use attestations to make sure neither is running any cheat modules. Or you could require your cloud computing provider to use attestations that they aren’t stealing your data from the server you’re renting. Or if you suspect that your computer has been infected with malware, you can connect to someone else and send them an attestation that they can use to figure out whether you should trust it.

Today, there’s a cool remote attestation technology called “PrivacyPass” that replaces CAPTCHAs by having you prove to your own device that you are a human. When a server wants to make sure you’re a person, it sends a random number to your device, which signs that number along with its promise that it is acting on behalf of a human being, and sends it back. CAPTCHAs are all kinds of bad — bad for accessibility and privacy — and this is really great.

But the billions that have been thrown at remote attestation over the decades is only incidentally about solving CAPTCHAs or verifying your cloud server. The holy grail here is being able to make sure that you’re not running an ad-blocker. It’s being able to remotely verify that you haven’t disabled the bossware your employer requires. It’s the power to block someone from opening an Office365 doc with LibreOffice. It’s your boss’s ability to ensure that you haven’t modified your messaging client to disable disappearing messages before he sends you an auto-destructing memo ordering you to break the law.

And there’s a new remote attestation technology making the rounds: Google’s Web Environment Integrity, which will leverage Google’s dominance over browsers to allow websites to block users who run ad-blockers:

https://github.com/RupertBenWiser/Web-Environment-Integrity

There’s plenty else WEI can do (it would make detecting ad-fraud much easier), but for every legitimate use, there are a hundred ways this could be abused. It’s a technology purpose-built to allow rent extraction by stripping us of our right to technological self-determination.

Releasing a technology like this into a world where companies are willing to make their products less reliable, less attractive, less safe and less resilient in pursuit of rents is incredibly reckless and shortsighted. You want unauthorized bread? This is how you get Unauthorized Bread:

https://arstechnica.com/gaming/2020/01/unauthorized-bread-a-near-future-tale-of-refugees-and-sinister-iot-appliances/amp/

If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this thread to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/07/24/rent-to-pwn/#kitt-is-a-demon

[Image ID: The interior of a luxury car. There is a dagger protruding from the steering wheel. The entertainment console has been replaced by the text 'You wouldn't download a car,' in MPAA scare-ad font. Outside of the windscreen looms the Matrix waterfall effect. Visible in the rear- and side-view mirror is the driver: the figure from Munch's 'Scream.' The screen behind the steering-wheel has been replaced by the menacing red eye of HAL9000 from Stanley Kubrick's '2001: A Space Odyssey.']

Image: Cryteria (modified) https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:HAL9000.svg

CC BY 3.0 https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/3.0/deed.en

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ghouljams · 10 months

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Omg I LOVE your konig!cowboy story, it's entertaining just how dumb bee is around this whole farm life, but what if she wasn't really that stupid? Like imagine konigs computer completely shuts down, and he's not the most tech literate but bee sees the problem and goes full city slicker tech bro mode and fixes it in no time, showing she is in fact competent, just not about her current life

Congratulations on unlocking Bee's expertise.

This is almost exactly what I had in mind when I was trying to figure out how she could just up and move and do wfh and generally have no clue how to own a farm. I think she's 100% a tech jockey of some kind, maybe a little bit of a hacker type. She's very smart but only about her areas of expertise.

König's laptop is open on the kitchen table when you drop by, the blue screen staring at you like an angel of death. You wince a little. You hope he wasn't working on anything important. You set your fabulously not failed cookies on his kitchen counter and pull out the chair in front of the computer.

"König, you mind if I poke around on your computer a little?" You call, straining to hear any movement before he pokes his head into the kitchen. He narrows his eyes at the computer for a moment, and damn you've never seen someone think so long about having their tech salvaged. "I won't check your browser history or anything if that's what you're worried about, just wanna get it running again."

König makes a noise of surprise and embarrassment. "I am not worried about that!" He sputters, which tells you he actually was worried about that. You shrug and flex your fingers a little. "Don't poke around too much." He relents, you grin, men are all the same.

"I'll stick to drivers and operating files only," he gives you a blank look, you press a few command keys to pull up your favorite little black box, "I'll just get it back to working."

You spend a few minutes manually filling in code and resetting the garbled muck that's filling your neighbor's computer. It's not too bad but he's got a nasty worm that seems to have been installed through a lousey torrent. You wipe the last few installs as best you can, calling König over to translate every so often. It's bad enough reworking an operating system in English, you're losing your mind trying to parse German files.

Eventually he finds a chair to sit next to you and watch. You pull your feet up onto the chair, your posture atrocious as you concentrate.

"I don't even know what half of this is," You grumble, staring at what looks like a matrix of some sort, a really sparse one.

"Which one is giving you trouble," König follows where you point on the screen, eyes narrowed against the brightness as he reads through named files, "Ah, this is security."

"Your place has security? We're in the middle of nowhere," You shoot him a look, he hums half agreeing, "I'll leave it."

"Braves Mädchen," he breathes, "you're very good at this."

"I hope so, can't exactly fall back on farming." You grumble, fingers working to finish your repairs to Königs frankly ancient laptop. This thing is going to be running marathons when you're done with it. Probably best to avoid any major changes to the OS though, König doesn't seem like he'd be willing to learn new shortcuts.

This is good though, you feel like you're paying him back for helping you out so much. Especially when you hit the button for the final restart and everything springs to life with a pleasant chime. You smile at your work, typing in König's shitty password to check that everything is working alright. You check the time, updating the clock to the correct time zone.

You stop, dread making your stomach roll. Is it really that late? "We were supposed to see a movie," You frown. König shoos your hands off the keyboard and shuts his laptop, it rings like a death bell on your ever present forgetfulness. "I'm sorry, I didn't even realize, and now we've missed it," König raises a hand to stop your apology.

"I don't mind," He's so sweet, his eyes smiling at you over his bandana, "I enjoyed watching you work, it was very... informative." You offer a hesitant smile, that's certainly one way to put it.

König watches you straighten up from your position over the computer, knees dropping from where you'd pulled them up by your chest as you arch your back to stretch out the kinks. The satisfied little noise you make at the quiet pop is going to bounce around his mind for a while yet. The same way your focused stare and the silent movement of your lips as you read will stick with him.

He would have asked you for help sooner, but there was too much about you on that laptop to be safe. Still, your discretion was a credit to your professionalism. Although your flagrant dismissal of what you must have thought were his porn habits was... telling. How many men have jumped to get their computer out of your hands?

"I better go home, gotta feed the critters and all." You stand, grabbing your bag from the floor, "Thanks for letting me fix your computer."

"Of course," König stands as well, walking with you to the door, "Danke Schön, hummelchen." He tells you quietly, holding the door above your head.

"Bitte schön, König," your pronunciation is hesitant, but still leaves him wide eyed staring down at you, "I Googled a few basics." You explain, as if that could be the reason for his silence.

"I see," König tries to keep his voice from sounding too tight, thinks he even succeeds at it, "Then, Gute Nacht."

"Gute Nacht!" You reply enthusiastically, giving a wave as you turn to leave. His fingers tighten on the door, grabbing something other than your throat. If you were going to speak his mother tongue so prettily, you should have at least warned him. Maybe then he wouldn't have to close the door half hard. You are going to be the death of him.

#cowboy!König #Bee very excited to have a fun movie night with her good friend and neighbor #könig coaching himself in the mirror that this isnt a date and he will not ruin this for Bee #oc: Bee #könig x you #könig modern warfare #könig x oc #colonel könig #könig cod #cod x reader #x reader #cod mw2

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writeforfandoms · 7 months

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Warrior Song 13

Find the series masterlist

Okay guys, we're approaching the end! I think we've got two chapters left in this story. And remember, if you kill me, I can't finish the story.

Medic learns more about Atriox's plan, and has a difficult decision to make.

Warnings: canon typical violence, canon typical plots against humanity, nobody likes humanity I guess, playing fast and loose with canon, canon is my sandbox. Mention of injuries.

Word count: 2k

Master chief/John-117 x f!reader

“Humanity has been more opposition than I first imagined,” Atriox growled. He’d left you on the ground, for which you were grateful. It was easier to hide the shaking when you were already seated. “But you will not be for much longer.”

You couldn’t see exactly what he was doing. You were a medic, not an engineer. But you knew it was bad.

You wished you did know what he was doing, so you could find some way to stop him.

Not that you really thought you could. You were, after all, the third most harmless person on this ring.

“Why did you not break when you lost your Master Chief?”

It took you a solid two seconds to realize that Atriox was not speaking to you, but speaking of humanity in general. You swallowed hard.

“Well, he died before, so.” You almost immediately winced at yourself. Oh yeah, great plan, snark at the maniac with the weapons and hands as big as your head. Good job.

Atriox huffed. “Then I will see to his death permanently this time,” he growled. “He will be the first, but not the last.” He looked down at you over his shoulder, the blue lighting only making him more intimidating, somehow.

You swallowed hard. That was very much a threat. One he apparently intended to see through.

This was so bad.

Two of the Endless floated nearer to him, and Atriox once again elected to ignore you, back to you. You took the chance to look around, carefully. You were far from alone, after all.

There were weapons and supplies stacked neatly. More than you were comfortable seeing.

It looked like war preparations.

Which was terrifying, of course, but also rather useless here. Sure, Atriox could lead the Endless and whatever of his forces remained against the humans here on the Halo, but that was far from all of humanity.

Fernando had told you the Halo was non-operational, John had dismantled whatever it was that made it a weapon.

So what was Atriox’s plan?

Not that it really mattered, so long as someone thwarted his plan. You doubted you could do much, but you could try.

Very carefully, you scooted back away from the control panel and Atriox. Nobody even looked at you, clearly deeming you harmless.

Maybe you could use that to your advantage? Somehow?

You could feel the Halo humming under you, gentle vibrations that would have been soothing if you weren’t absolutely terrified. Nobody else seemed to pay it any attention, but you leaned into it a bit.

Look, you could really use anything to help you calm down a bit just about now.

Okay, so you couldn’t tell what they were planning, and they were currently ignoring you, correctly deciding that you were not someone they needed to worry about. Okay. What else could you do?

There were tons of weapons, of course. Most of which you didn’t know how to use. And which you had no chance of doing any real damage with. Okay, yeah, not your best idea. Moving on.

The Endless seemed to be doing their own thing - only a few were around Atriox. You didn’t know where the rest had gone, because when Chief had been chasing them there had been many, many more. Possibly they were around the rest of the Halo? But for what purpose?

Maybe they knew how to repair it.

The thought stirred dread in your chest, cold seeping into your bones and your mind. That… was horrifying. And terrible. That would end so poorly.

But you had to consider it.

From what you remembered, the Endless had been around with the Forerunners, so there was a possibility they knew how to work this tech.

Which was honestly pretty terrifying. But this whole situation was pretty terrifying, so you weren’t sure how to qualify the actual level of terrifying anymore.

Okay. So. Atriox and the Endless were definitely up to something. You couldn’t do a lot from here. But you could watch, observe, try to piece together their plan.

And that’s exactly what you did. You sat there, thigh aching, gaze fixed on Atriox and the Endless around him. Maybe if you watched you’d get some hint, some clue as to their plan. Maybe.

It was the least you could do, anyway.

For the large part, they all ignored you. Atriox, the Endless, the Sangheili. All of them. You were beneath their focus, not worthy of watching more than to make sure you didn’t grab a weapon and start shooting.

Not that you were offended by this. They were pretty much right about that.

You had no idea how long you sat there. Time was meaningless and impossible to track. You just stayed exactly where you were, watching everything.

So when the Sangheili approached you again, you flinched. But he just sneered down at you and hauled you to your feet, grip uncaringly tight around your upper arm. You winced but kept quiet.

You were moved through a doorway, though your thigh ached and threatened to give out from under you. A walkway went around the circular room, with a single walkway stretching out over nothingness to a central point.

“Move,” Atriox growled from to the side of you. You chanced a quick look, but he was just watching you. So you stepped forward carefully, slowly.

“What am I doing?” You kept your voice low - it felt wrong to speak at full volume here.

“Ensuring my victory.” Atriox stepped up behind you, too close, looming over you. Then again, being on the same damn Halo as him was too close. Two of the Endless floated near you, watching with open curiosity.

So. They needed you to do something. Some way to interact with the Halo, or activate it, or something. But they needed you to do it. Or else why bother grabbing a human at all? Why bother keeping you alive?

Too many questions, not enough answers, and no way to get them. You blew out a slow breath, looking down at the interface in front of you. You could probably throw yourself off the walkway, which would at least slow down his plans. Give Blue Team a chance to catch up and stop him.

But you didn’t want to. You really didn’t want to.

Apparently tired of waiting for you, Atriox grabbed your arm, pulling your hand forward to slap against the interface. It lit up vibrant blue, sending chills down your spine.

“The Forerunners thought they were being so clever,” he growled, watching various statuses show up, flicking through them. “Leaving their technology to humans.”

The two Endless moved closer, and you stepped away. Carefully. Slowly. Your arm ached and throbbed where you’d been grabbed twice now, but nobody stopped you. They were focused on the displays.

Okay. Maybe you could back up, grab a weapon, and… do something.

You didn’t have a chance to plan more than that, though, as the sound of gunfire echoed down into the open room. Atriox started barking orders, his remaining soldiers gearing up quickly.

You used the distraction to scuttle away as fast as you could, trying to remain out of the way. Partially because you didn’t want to get shot, and partially because you didn’t want to get grabbed as a shield. It was easy for you to hide in the growing chaos, looking around almost desperately for some way to defend yourself.

The sounds of fighting grew louder, the shots getting closer. You had just turned to look back at the weapons stash, so you had a perfect view of Blue Team advancing into the room. Your breath stuttered out of you. They were okay. They were all okay.

“Master Chief,” Atriox rumbled, taking one step forward. “We meet again.”

Chief didn’t respond, just shifting his grip on his gun, helmet fixed on Atriox.

“You will not be so lucky again.” Atriox started forward, the floor shaking under his steps as he ran towards Chief.

You didn’t watch. You couldn’t watch. Two of the Endless were still working at the terminal, completely avoiding the fighting. Whatever they were working on was bad, clearly. They were trying to get it done.

You’d just have to disrupt their work.

A shotgun slid towards you, bumping into your shoe. You picked it up quickly and then looked at Blue Team. Fred nodded to you once before he threw a whole Unggoy into the pit, the high-pitched squeals fading quickly.

You didn’t hear it hit the bottom.

You knew the basics of gun safety, at least, so you were able to point and shoot. Which you did. Your first shot was a little wide, but the second hit both Endless. One of them turned on you with a furious sound while the other continued working.

Well. Damn.

You pressed your back into the wall, eyes wide. That had not gone according to plan!

But the Endless didn’t have a chance to attack. Two more shots hit it in the back, and it turned and… teleported? It did something and moved away from you.

Giving you a chance to focus on the remaining one. You needed to stop it. Somehow. You had no ammo, no convenient ally to help.

So you did what you could. You threw the entire shotgun at the Endless.

The Endless turned, energy crackling at its fingertips. Oh shit. It floated towards you slowly, seemingly just to enjoy the panic on your face as you scrambled backwards, away from it.

Kelly dropped down out of seemingly nowhere, pinning the Endless beneath her and shooting it in the face three times. “Stop taunting them,” she scolded you, sparing you one look before she leapt off to deal with something else.

You breathed out slowly, shakily. Yeah. Right. Good idea. You’d accomplished your goal, anyway.

Back still pressed against the wall, you hunkered down a little, trying to be as unobtrusive as possible. The fight around you was loud and far too close, but there was nowhere else to go.

You had the perfect vantage point to see Atriox look back at the control panel. You saw two Sangheili descend on Chief to distract him. You saw Atriox leap back to the control panel.

You looked down when you felt something bump into your shoe. Another weapon. But this time it was a grenade. You had no idea what kind it was, or what it did, but you recognized the shape.

You picked up the grenade. Blue Team was scattered across the room, dealing with the veritable flood of Endless.

Could you make that throw? Maybe.

A sharp clang jerked your head to the side as Fred hit the wall across from you, getting back to his feet quickly, in time to block a shot from an Unggoy.

Your Spartans were doing well, but they hadn’t known the extent of what they faced. They didn’t know Atriox’s full plan.

Neither did you, of course, but you knew more than they did. You knew that he couldn’t succeed.

You knew what you had to do.

It took all your courage to take that first step forward. Then another. You moved slowly, softly. You didn’t even register to the combatants - the Endless were focused on Blue Team, and Blue Team was focused on eliminating the actual threats with extreme prejudice.

You nearly wobbled the last step you dared, your instincts screaming at you to run away from Atriox. But you didn’t. You held your ground, facing his back, shaking. You pulled the pin on the grenade, crouching a little. Okay. You could do this.

You rolled the grenade right between Atriox’s feet until it hit the bottom of the control panel and stopped.

Your gaze met John’s across the room, his visor impenetrable as ever, but still comforting. He shouted, and it took you a moment to realize he’d called your name.

Atriox made a triumphant noise.

John lunged.

The grenade went off.

#warrior song #john-117 x reader #master chief x reader #f!reader

146 notes · View notes

techhasmjolnir · 4 months

Text

Trivial Pursuit

Plot: It is a dark, stormy night... Wait, let's not use that trope for the millionth time, shall we?

You're home alone thinking your plans for the night are cancelled, but things change quickly when Tech comes home late and wants to pursue what the two of you originally planned...with a major twist neither of you envision.

Author's Notes:

This is my first time crafting a Bad Batch story, let alone a smutty one. I wrote this after receiving inspiration and encouragement from a friend of mine, and I'm quite proud of the final result. I usually don't write anything on a very short scale, so while this is a one-shot story, it is quite lengthy (word count is 12,450).

Some sections have notes in parentheses, listing names of songs and artists I paired with the scenes at hand. I strongly suggest looking them up as you read, in hopes you can make your own connections to the story that much stronger.

Important Notes:

This content is strictly for audiences 18+. The roles in this story assume female readers & Tech. Concepts introduced include: dirty talk, fingering, M & F masturbation, oral sex (giving & receiving), PiV, creampie, female ejaculation, and soft dom Tech.

Summer nights on Coruscant bring one of two things – either endless, driving rain or nearly unbearable heat and humidity. Tonight is the former; the rain spatters angrily against the windows of your high-rise apartment in the Uscru District. Despite the inclement weather, the entertainment district still bustles with throngs of beings from every corner of the galaxy. You wisely choose to stay in tonight, knowing that you could have been out in any one of the district's numerous clubs, but then you remember that when it rains, the clubs become overwhelmingly claustrophobic with seas of bodies looking to stay dry.

Tech sent you a holo-message earlier in the afternoon, letting you know he wouldn't be home for dinner, as he and the rest of the guys were experiencing a few mechanical issues with the Marauder, and needed to stop for emergency repairs. You're disappointed, because it was supposed to be a stay home date night for the both of you, but you're pragmatic; machines are made to eventually break, and the Marauder is no exception.

Since you're already having dinner alone, you decide to load up your browser with half a dozen scientific journals you'd been meaning to catch up on. Pouring yourself a glass of desert wine (the real deal, too – you'd been lucky to exchange services with someone coming back from Tatooine who had a bottle directly from the Tuskens), you take your dinner and sit on the floor in the immense pile of thick, fluffy blankets you threw down to create a nest, of sorts. You know what will happen. You'll read one article. One becomes three. Three becomes six. Six becomes four hours later.

Who cares?, you think. Tech's not coming home tonight, the weather is shit, and I've nothing better to do than read and possibly get very drunk tonight. Sipping the desert wine slowly, you open the first journal, “Frontiers of Marine Science (Kamino).” You choose this one on purpose. You've been fascinated with Kamino for as long as you've been with Tech, hanging on his every word when he would tell you stories of when he and his brothers were young, and what the Kaminoans are like, although you suspect that there's a great deal he hasn't told you, and likely never will. Down the proverbial ash-rabbit hole you go...

You stare intently at the computer screen, not even cognizant of the last time you blinked. You sigh, and you realize it happened again. Glancing at the clock, you realize it's close to midnight. The wind has picked up even more, howling and threatening to drive the raindrops through the windows. You want to sleep, but without Tech by your side, it will likely be another restless night.

You get up painstakingly, stiff from sitting in one place too long, taking your dishes to the sink and washing them quickly before you turn off most of the lights, except the one that casts ambient blue-green light throughout the entire living room. The sound of the rain is spiking your anxiety and hurting your ears, so you put on some music to try and mask the sounds of the raging tempest outside.

“Much better,” you say to your empty apartment. “Now I can get back to more reading...and maybe I'll fall asleep before four? Fat chance,” you mutter.

Nestling back into your blankets, you pull your computer back in front of you and open the umpteenth article of the night. “Landscape and Urban Planning (Coruscant).” You laugh loudly at the title of this one, given the complete lack of any discernible “landscape” on Coruscant.

“Urban Planning? On THIS planet? Let's see what the so-called “experts” have to say on this topic.” As you delve into the article, you let the background music ease your mind to a more focused state. You'll never sleep if you can't quiet your mind. Tech...where are you? I need you...

(Peter Murphy – All Night Long)

You slip back into your reading easily, and it's not long before you're completely engrossed again. The state of hyperfocus takes over you so much, you don't even hear the tone of your security alarm chiming as it's being deactivated, and the front door sliding open with an audible hiss. Tech stands in the vestibule and reactivates the security alarm before removing his helmet and walking slowly into the living room, bathed in relaxing ambient light. He isn't surprised to see you're still awake; he knows when he isn't home, you rarely sleep more than a few hours.

He stops when he sees you bundled up in the middle of the floor, your computer on the coffee table, your eyes wide and glassy. He knows this look well, because as you're so fond of pointing out to him, he looks exactly the same way when he's working intensely on something. He smiles softly, and waits to see if you'll even look up and notice that he's there. When he notices you're pretty far gone, he chuckles quietly and puts his helmet down on a side table where you've got medical journals piled high. He knows better than to startle you, so he comes into the living room a little more and stops.

“Cyaré...I'm home...I am quite sorry about tonight, but we had a malfunction with the Marauder's hyperdrive and an unscheduled trip deviation was necessary. If it is quite all right with you, I would like to make it up to you...”

You don't acknowledge him and he sighs. He knows you heard him, but nothing has registered. It's been some time since you've been stuck in a hyperfocused state like this, but Tech feels like he's responsible for this one, and it's up to him to ease you out of it. “Cyaré, please...” he tries again. Nothing. His brow furrows and he walks over to the control panel that controls the audio system. The music isn't even loud, but he eases the volume down, and when the raging wind and rain outside is heard once more, it snaps you back to reality.

Blinking hard, you look up from your computer, and you see Tech standing there, arms crossed, looking down at you, and for a moment you could have sworn it was Crosshair in your living room. The switch flips in your mind and you finally realize it's Tech, and while he doesn't look exactly icy, he doesn't look at you with the warmth he normally does.

“Tech...?” you croak, your throat parched. You haven't even remembered to drink any water.

(Sundial Aeon – Iced Melancholy Spectacle)

“Mésh'la, have you been up all night waiting for me? For your sake, I hope you have not. You know how I feel when I find out that you have not been getting proper sleep. I ask you again, were you up all night waiting for me?”

Your pulse quickens as he speaks to you, for his tone is becoming increasingly frigid. You wonder if he's doing this to purposely get a rise out of you, because he knows you're incredibly easy to bait. Many times he uses this tone of voice with you before the two of you engage in sexual relations, because he learned early on in your relationship that he could send you into extended periods of arousal just through that alone.

“Yes...and no, Tech,” you reply meekly. “You know I have a hard time sleeping when you're not here, and the storm tonight has sent my anxiety into overdrive. I thought I could sit here and read until you got back...and with luck, maybe sleep a little before then.”

This answer appears to satisfy him, for he now walks over to you and sits on the couch just off to your side. You catch a bit of his scent as he sits down...metallic, earthy, sweat. Nothing you haven't smelled on him before, but longing for his presence and his touch all night turns those simple scents into potent triggers. Your pulse is still elevated from him speaking to you, and as you turn to look up at him, those beautiful golden brown eyes of his look down upon you, and his face softens with that little grin you've always found to be one of the sexiest things about him.

He leans forward slightly, resting his arms on his knees, and you can see that he's definitely tired. Tired, but not so tired that he isn't interested in spending any time with you now. As he glances at your computer screen, he can see what has to be at least a bare minimum of 30 open tabs in your browser. Moving over so he's behind you, he shifts his legs a little so you're sitting between his feet. His strong hands close on your shoulders, and before you know it, he's firmly massaging them. You've been sitting hunched over for so long, that everything feels taut and pinched.

“Y/N, please do not let this become a habit. I know your mind works very much like mine. But you need your rest.”

You can't help but groan softly as his long fingers manipulate your skin through the material of your light sweatshirt. It doesn't matter if his hands are under his work gloves, or if they're bare...there's something magical about the power of his touch that you can't get enough of. You let your head loll forward as his thumbs dig in around your shoulder blades, and this time you let something more akin to a pleasurable moan escape. Accidental, of course, but you feel like you could melt into a puddle under his ministrations.

“Mésh'la, was that what I think it was?” he asks, amused.

(EN Voice – Hold On)

“What was what?” you reply, confused.

“I think that was more than just a casual groan. Is this turning you on?”

One hand remains to work on your shoulder, but his other hand has now moved down your back slightly, and come around to the front, gently cupping your breast, then closing around it and squeezing lightly as his thumb traces across your nipple.

Your head snaps up as he does this, your back straightening up into his hand, and your eyes close, holding back the moan that desperately wants to leave your throat. This is what you've craved all night, and you bring your hand up over his, holding it lightly as he begins to flick his thumb over you, feeling the tissue grow firm under his touch. You feel a very gentle pulse in your clit, and a tiny contraction inside as he touches you, and this time you let him know how you feel, letting out a soft, feminine moan through parted lips.

“I will take that as a yes, cyaré... Don't hold back anything from me.”

This time he lets go of your shoulder, and his other hand comes around to take your other breast, repeating the process. As your drop the hand over his, you lean back against the couch, your head resting close to his groin. You look up and you can see eyes growing heavy with lust. As he catches your gaze, he takes each nipple and pinches them firmly. You gasp and feel the unmistakable heat beginning to pool between your legs. The first instinct is to reach down and lightly touch yourself, but as you move to do so, Tech takes your wrist firmly and holds it in place.

“I don't think so, mésh'la... Would you like to play a little game with me? It is something we haven't done before, but I have been thinking about it for awhile, and it would be fun for both of us.”

“What kind of game?” you ask dubiously.

“It is a game of intellect...however, there are several rules. The first is that I am the only one that may ask the questions. I know you are well versed in many disciplines, and in the interest of fairness, will keep them based in subjects you know well. The second rule is, you will only have a maximum of three minutes to answer me. The third rule is that if you answer correctly, you must remove an article of clothing. I will also remove something, starting with my armor and gear. When your clothing is gone, each successive correct answer will net you a physical action from me. The fourth rule is that if you are incorrect, or fail to answer at all, everything will stop and you receive nothing.”

“Oh, what?!” you fire back indignantly. “How is THAT fair, Tech?”

“I do believe this is called “being a tease, mésh'la... That is the correct phrase, is it not?”

You sigh a little huffily. “Yes, it is. But...you've piqued my curiosity, and more importantly, by the end of this I want both of us to be in post-orgasmic bliss. You got that?!”

His eyes widen a little at the slight aggression you fire back at him, but he can tell you've been worked up all day, and need some relief soon. He does too, because the thought of him buried to the hilt inside you by the end of the night has been on his mind all day. He feels his cock beginning to stir a little under his codpiece...no time to waste.

(Desert Dwellers & Phutureprimitive – Praise Her, the Fire Keeper (Phutureprimitive Remix))

“Move over a little, Y/N...let me sit next to you. It will be easier this way. Move the table out of the way, too. You know we're going to need the extra space.”

You smile at him cheekily as you shift the coffee table out of the way, leaving plenty of room for both of you. Those long legs of his have zero chance of having room with any furniture in the way. Images of you running your hands up the length of his body, stopping at his hips, pausing to lick and gently suckle on his cock flit through your mind and you feel your face grow briefly hot. We've never had sex in the living room yet... I wonder what kinds of questions he'll ask me?

Tech shifts the blankets around so that he can be next to you, and he stretches out his legs, letting out a groan of his own. Being cramped up in the cockpit of the Marauder all day left him just as stiff and sore as he was sure you were, being in front of your computer all night. You turn to look at him, and he smiles softly at you. What he's really thinking right now is beyond you, but you hope it's something incredibly wicked.

“Are you ready? I will set a timer for three minutes with each question. We will start with something easy, as a warm up. What is the definition of the “instar phase?””

“Tech, come on, this is super easy.” You look at his grinning face, eyes never leaving his as you give your answer: “this is the developmental stage of arthropods, such as insects, between each molt, until they achieve sexual maturity.”

“Of course, you are correct. Take off your sweatshirt, cyaré...do you have anything else on underneath?”

Without hesitation, you skin off your sweatshirt, and you're wearing the sexy black and red lace bra that Tech would have seen much earlier in the night, had he come home on time. Normally you wouldn't have bothered with a bra if you were planning on being alone at night, but you know Tech is very much a visual creature when it comes to sexual endeavors. You hear him sigh softly as he catches sight of you, and you see him pull off his work gloves, casting them off to the side. All you can think about now is feeling his bare hands on your flesh...your face, your neck, spine, and especially between your legs.

“Have I told you lately how beautiful you are, Y/N? You truly are one of the most exceptional creatures I have encountered in all of my travels.”

You can feel the heat rising in your face, and you're thankful that the ambient light in the room can hide the fact you're beginning to flush, but you know how perceptive Tech is, and he will pick up easily on other visual cues.

“Tech, I...” you begin, but you can't think of anything meaningful to say. How do you follow up after such a grand statement?

He flashes you that sexy grin of his again and you're melting inside. “Next question, love. Are you ready? What are eubacteria?”

It's been awhile since you had to discuss microbiology with anyone, but this was another easy question, and you're wondering if Tech keeps planning on asking easy questions just to get you naked faster. Not like it would bother you if that's the case, but he has more things to take off than you do...

“Eubacteria are simple celled organisms, many with rigid cell walls, often needing a flagellum for movement. They are considered “true” bacteria, along with cyanobacteria. They are often found within the intestines of animals, and can also be found in soil.”

“Very good, love, although you took a little longer to answer this time, and I know you knew the answer easily. Stand up and slowly take your pants off for me.”

Slowly, you rise, and your first inclination is to deeply stretch, because of being on the floor too long. You are tempted to make him wait, but you're afraid if you do, he might stop the game just to make you wait for another time. You hook your thumbs into the waistband of the soft, loose pants you like to wear around the house, and as your eyes lock on his, you begin to sway your hips a little and laugh as you draw your pants down over your hips, then let them drop to the floor. You've got on the matching panties that go with your bra, and you watch Tech's eyes move down to look between your legs.

You know he's wondering if you're wet for him yet, and you watch as he takes off the breastplate of his armor, and everything else off his arms. You can see the musculature of his chest through his blacks, and this time there's no denying that you're aroused. Your clit pulses with heat and you can feel yourself starting to grow wet, as you think about skinning his shirt off, tracing every line of his flesh...burying your head into the crook of his neck and showering him with hot kisses...

(Nor Elle – Silent Storm)

“So much better,” he breathes, running a hand down his chest, letting it rest on his stomach. He looks up and you and his eyes almost seem to shimmer behind his lenses. Oh yes, he's turned on. “Turn around for me, mésh'la, I want to see that beautiful ass of yours.”

You can practically hear the lust dripping in his voice now, and you comply, turning around for him. You're not wearing a thong, but there's very little material, and to sweeten the pot for him, you decide to be a tease. Curling your finger into the material, you lean forward a little and pull your panties aside, so you're completely exposed for him...and now he can see glistening moisture, inviting him home.

Hearing him groan softly and shift around a little as his codpiece suddenly becomes much more restrictive makes you smile. You know what you're doing, and you're damn good at it. Letting the material go, you turn back around and look at him. You look down and see that he's slipped his fingertips just under the material of his blacks.

“Do you have another question for me, or are you in shock right now?” you tease gently.

He laughs and removes his hand from his blacks, letting it rest on his stomach again. The urge to start stroking himself is incredibly strong right now, but this needs to be a waiting game. If he's going to make you wait, he has to, as well. He brings his knees up and puts his other hand behind his head, leaning back against the couch, trying to think of a more difficult question for this round.

“All right, this one is a little more involved, and I do not want you answering in a simplistic fashion. Tell me what happens when an individual suffers a crush injury.”

While you have plenty of knowledge of anatomy and physiology, it's been quite awhile since you've had to draw from it. You're frantically thinking back to your university courses in medical terminology and A & P, trying to remember. You are drawing a serious blank, and you look over at Tech, who smirks at you a little because he can see the creeping panic in your face.

“Time's fleeting, cyaré...you have a minute and a half.”

Fuck, come on! I know this! Why can't I remember it?!

You're looking around the room, grasping at straws, mind racing as you try to give Tech something...anything. You shut your eyes and you're not even conscious of the fact you've slipped a hand between your legs, rubbing your clit through the gossamer fabric of your panties. Tech cocks an eyebrow when he sees you doing this.

“Fascinating, my love, but you're at 45 seconds. I need an answer.”

Your heart is up in your throat, robbing you of your breath, and your voice. Still touching yourself, and feeling your clit pulse beneath your frantic fingertips, the connection is made. You don't know how, but here it is. You have to be at somewhere under 20 seconds at this point, and the minute you open your mouth, it becomes a raging torrent of words. He's not going to rob you of pleasure tonight, and if he wants an answer, he's going to get one!

“It's a reperfusion injury that appears after the release of crushing pressure. The mechanism is believed to be the release into the bloodstream of muscle breakdown products – notably myoglobin, potassium and phosphorus – products of rhabodmyolysis, the breakdown of skeletal muscle damaged by ischemic conditions. Devastating systemic effects can occur when the crushing pressure is suddenly released, without proper preparation of the patient, causing reperfusion syndrome. In addition to tissue directly suffering the crush mechanism, tissue is then subjected to sudden reoxygenation in the limbs and extremities. Without proper preparation, the patient, with pain control, may be cheerful before recovery, but then may suddenly die shortly thereafter. This sudden failure is called the "smiling death." TECH, WHAT THE FUCK?!”

The sudden obscenity catches him off guard, and he can't help but laugh at you, standing there, looking so flushed, with wild eyes and heaving chest. Just to tease you even more, he does a slow clap before speaking.

“I am seriously impressed, mésh'la... Not only did that outburst have the correct answer in it, but you clocked in with just two seconds left. I will not apologize for the question, but I will apologize for inadvertently stressing you to the point where you felt it necessary to touch yourself for me, without me ordering you to do so.”

You feel your cheeks go hot, instantly embarrassed that you've now accidentally shown Tech something you've always done when pushed to your maximum stress levels. “Tech, I...fuck. This is embarrassing. I'm...”

“You have nothing to apologize for, Y/N. I have extensively studied what can happen to people with minds like ours, when we are pushed beyond our ability to cope with certain situations. You acted well within the parameters of normal behavior. That being said, I believe I owe you something now. I'm feeling generous, so for that answer, I'll take off more than one thing.”

He gets to his feet, and seemingly towering above you, he looks down at you as he unhooks his utility belt and drops it on the floor next to the rest of his gear. You can see that his breathing is becoming a little more shallow, and you wonder just how hard he is, hidden by that infernal codpiece. Off comes the armor on those lithe, muscular legs, along with the other utility pouches. Suddenly you don't feel so close to naked anymore, but now you wonder what he'll ask you to take off first. He sits back down next to you, looking up with eyes full of wonder.

“I can almost read your mind, Y/N. I will make it exceedingly easy for you. Take off your bra; it's beautiful, but those breasts of yours are so much more so. So much so, that once it's off, I want you to show me how you play with them when you're thinking about me.”

(Sister Machine Gun - Burn)

You almost let out a tiny squeak with his last sentence, but you find yourself actively wanting to show him. Besides, once you're done playing this game, you can always ask him to return the favor, and show you how he touches himself when he's fantasizing about you. Reaching behind you, you unhook the band and slide the straps down your shoulders, letting it fall into your hand, and holding it at arm's length, you wink at him, dropping it to the floor.

Swallowing hard, and trying to ignore the fact you've mostly soaked your panties through with your juices, your hands come to your chest, one hand squeezing, while the other pinches, rolls, and tugs at a nipple. You bite your lower lip and close your eyes, thinking about Tech pulling you down to the floor, unleashing his cock and taking you right then and there. Moaning softly, you show him just how much he affects you, and through doing this, show how much you adore him.

“That's it, cyar'ika, don't be shy...show me...teach me,” his voice getting husky with deep arousal now. “Please, baby, don't stop now...”

Breasts still in hand, you step in between his slightly parted legs, nudging his foot aside to make room for you between them. Tired of standing and feeling like you're a trophy upon a pedestal, you sink to the floor on your knees, sitting back on your feet. He has an overwhelming vision of grabbing and pulling you to his chest, sinking his tongue into your mouth for a deep kiss, bucking his hips up into you so you gasp at the sudden intrusion of his cock between your outer lips...

You flash a mischievous smile at him. He caves, as his hands come to rest on your hips, pulling you closer to him so quickly that you put your hands out in front of you to keep from falling. For a moment you hope you don't come crashing down face first on his codpiece, but you manage to get your hands on either side of him, your face a hair's breadth away from it.

A harsh gasp rises from you and you look up at him. He's unperturbed by your current position, and only wishes the codpiece was off so you could kiss him through the fabric of his blacks and feel how hard he is for you.

“I've got you, don't worry. Although I do believe it's prudent I ask the next question, don't you think? No, I won't ask another question like the last one...at least just yet. You look uncomfortable down there, love. Be a good girl, and sit in my lap. Here, let me help you.” Hands still on your hips, he pulls you toward him more so you can creep your way onto his lap. You don't want to sit down on him fully because you know he's hiding a massive erection under the codpiece, but you can still straddle him. You let your hands come to rest on his shoulders and he sighs contentedly, happy to finally have you in his arms after a particularly stressful day. Wanting to return the favor from earlier, your hands begin to gently massage his shoulders, and he's so tight and knotted up, he closes his eyes and lets out a soft moan.

“Mésh'la, please...you're distracting me!”

“Me? Distracting you? If that's not the pot calling the kettle black, I don't know what is!”

“All right, I concede...so here is your next question. What is a myelin sheath?”

Finally, an easy A & P question! “The myelin sheath forms around nerves, including those in the central nervous system. Composed of fatty substances and proteins, it allows electrical impulses to travel easily along nerve cells.”

A triumphant smile crosses your face and Tech's expression softens once again, his eyes smoldering with invisible fire. You know your panties are coming off next, but it's the manner in which they'll be removed that's in the front of your mind. His hands move down from your hips to your ass, squeezing your cheeks firmly, fanning the flames of desire ever higher within you.

Your hands move from his shoulders to rest on the back of his neck, stroking the soft flesh lightly and for a moment he lets out a brief moan. In return, his fingers sink just a little lower down your cheeks toward your outer lips, and you gasp as you feel him beginning to move your panties aside. A fingertip begins to draw its way over your lips, slick with moisture. You moan his name unbidden, wanting him to sink that finger deep inside you, but he knows the game you're playing, and he's not willing to play that hand just yet.

“Not just yet, Y/N. You should know better than that. Get those panties off, NOW.”

The razor sharp edge to that last word sends chills down your spine. He releases your ass and lets you climb off him, and as you stand between his knees, you look down upon him. He's got his hands behind his head now, looking up at you expectantly.

“Take them off now, cyaré, or I rip them off you, and I'm sure you'd like to keep them intact, yes?” “Yes, Tech,” you murmur, not exactly sure you still want to keep holding his gaze.

Hooking your thumbs under the waistband, you begin to roll your panties down, skinning them off slowly in a little bit of a striptease. You swirl your hips to and fro as you part your legs just a little bit as you get them all the way down, and as you step out them, you chuck them behind you, not really caring where they land.

You feel wetness beginning to seep from you freely now, and you shift your legs apart a little more so Tech can clearly see that there's a thin bead of your juices getting ready to drip on the floor. He's never seen this particular phenomenon up close before and you smile as you watch his eyes widen in surprise, and his lips part silently.

“This is what you do to me, Tech. You make me so fucking wet, my pussy weeps for joy. All for you, baby...all for you.”

You slip a hand between your legs and let your fingers pick up your wetness before it falls. Time to show him something else you do when he's not there, and you're thinking about him... You trail your fingertips through the cleft of your outer lips, picking up a great deal of moisture. As you bring your fingers back to your mouth to suck them clean, you see Tech activating the release for his codpiece in a big hurry, and he almost whips it off to the side as it lets go, and now you see what he's been trying carefully to keep under control.

Under his blacks, you see the prominent outline of his cock, fully hard, lying long and thick, begging to be released. You can't see anything because of the material, but you wonder if he's also wet for you; you've always loved seeing him ooze pre-cum for you, and as you've discovered, he loves it when you tell him you love how wet he is for you.

“Mésh'la, I need you to move out of the way. Let me get my boots off, and then you're going to come back and stand over my face. I must taste you, before your next question.”

(Asura – Crossroads Limiter)

You waste no time stepping back to let Tech ease himself back up onto the couch so he can get his boots off, which he does in what seems like record time, kicking them off to the side before sinking back to the floor and urging you to come forward with a few short waves of his hands. Carefully planting your legs on either side of him, he lets his head rest on the back of the couch cushion and puts a hand on your thigh. He's breathing hard now and his free hand has slipped down between his legs to start touching his cock through his blacks. He doesn't want to reveal himself to you just yet, but the mounting arousal can no longer be ignored.

You have a hand on the couch's armrest for a little stability as Tech bids you to lower yourself down within reach. Another bead of your juices threatens to fall, but this time Tech is ready with his dexterous and skilled tongue, ready to catch it. His cock twitches heavily under his hand, and you can feel the heat of his breath against your outer lips as his tongue traces its way through them, picking up every bit of wetness he can, as if he's starving.

“Let me feed you, Tech...you're so hungry... Eat your fill, my love...”

He moans deeply against you as you say this, the vibrations tickling you, making you twitch and squirm. The hand on your thigh begins to close down and squeeze as his tongue probes deeper now, slipping through your inner lips, very nearly to your entrance and now it's your turn to cry out sharply. Your clit begs and aches to have attention lavished upon it, but as you slip your free hand down to start touching it, your hand is pulled away.

“Not just yet...you don't get to play with yourself until I tell you, remember? As much as I'd love to eat you out right now, go sit back down. It's time for your next question. What are the four main components of physical science? I do not need any elaboration for this response.”

“Wow, this takes me back to my high school days,” you chuckle. “Let's see if I still remember all of them!”

“You'd better, because you know what will happen if you fail...and we're too far along for this to become a disappointment, cyaré...”

You swallow hard at his response, because you know he's serious. You're both too far along now to have this be a night of completely ruined edging and orgasms. You remember two of them immediately, but the other two are escaping you, and panic begins to set in once more. He's watching you intently as he continues to touch himself, letting out intermittent moans on purpose to help keep you focused.

“Uhh, well, I remember there's physics, chemistry...I'm having trouble with the other two.”

You look over at him and he just shakes his head at you, one eyebrow raised as if to say, “you're smarter than this, and you aren't getting my help.” He lets his head rest against the couch cushion again as he strokes himself through his blacks, and the hem of his shirt has ridden up his stomach just a little. Looking down, you can see the head of his cock peeking out of the waist of his pants and you suddenly get the chills, knowing that it's only a matter of time before he lets that beast out to play.

“Time's a-fleeting, honey. You'd better hurry up, because if you want any hope of riding my cock tonight, you will answer me.”

“Goddamnit, Tech,” you mutter, trying to focus the incessant loud chatter in your brain. “Okay, it's physics, chemistry...” You look over at your bookshelves for answers, hoping there's something there that will jog your memory. Books on botany, biology, genetics...no, that's not it. Wait...biology? Terrestrial sciences...yes, that's it!

“One minute, my love. It'd be prudent if you stopped wasting time.”

Physics, chemistry, Earth sciences (like meteorology and geology), and...and...come the fuck on, I know this!

You look out the expanse of windows to see that the storm finally stopped, and the clouds are beginning to dissipate. The glittering lights of the Uscru District seem to twinkle like stars, and then the light went on. It's so simple, and it's been here the entire time! “30 seconds, mésh'la. You really like pushing your luck, don't you?”

“Tech!” You look over at him and he picks his head up, blinking a little owlishly as he refocuses on you. “It's physics, chemistry, Earth sciences, and astronomy! Told you I knew it...and you know I don't have the greatest long term memory.”

“I am aware of your memory capabilities, and know it is a limitation for you. You have done well, and you're one step closer to being fully rewarded.”

Sitting up, he pulls off his shirt, and that is a gift unto itself. You long to touch every single inch of his finely chiseled chest and abs, kiss your way from his mouth all the way down to his cock, taking him in hands free in a small display of dominance of your own. The vision is so real, you can almost taste him. He leans back against the couch and gives you that irresistible sexy grin, and one of his hands comes back down to touch himself, not caring that his cock is now peeking prominently out of his pants. He's content to stroke himself through his clothing for as long as it takes.

“Just one more question, and then the real fun can begin,” he says lowly, his voice reminding you of roiling smoke. “I've been thinking about coming home and fucking you senseless all day...so much so that Hunter asked me if something was amiss, because of how unfocused I was. You are my undoing, cyaré, but I would not trade it for anything in this galaxy, or any other.”

You feel a deep twinge of arousal deep in your chest as he tells you this, and you close your eyes and moan his name, making a conscientious effort to not reach down and touch your clit as you do so. At this point, all you want is Tech to be touching you, gently swirling his thumb on the underside of your clit as his fingers stroke your insides, bringing you to a juicy wet orgasm...

“Tech, I'm ready...what's the next question?” You reach out and gently touch his calf, stroking your fingers over the soft material of his blacks. “Please don't make this one that spikes my anxiety again, okay? I'm not sure I can handle much more of that...”

“I promise you, Y/N, it won't be a question that made you panic like that first one. I am still impressed with your response to that, by the way.” He grins at you and slowly closes his eyes, trying to think of a question that will yield a response that will tie in with all of this foreplay. You look over at him expectantly, wondering if he'll keep his word. Without opening his eyes, his silken voice flows with the query: “the arrector pili muscles are responsible for what phenomenon?”

“I think you've finally realized that the A&P questions are where I generally feel most comfortable, Tech,” you chuckle. Tapping a fingertip to your lip, you try not to glance over at Tech, who has slid one of his thumbs into the waist of his blacks, and is ever so slowly beginning to pull downwards. He's still not looking at you, but he knows that you're unable to stop watching him.

“Arrector pili...hm, arrector pili...pretty sure this one is a dermatological term, if I'm not mistaken,” you muse.

“Two minutes, love. You should be thinking much harder about the answer, than about me getting my pants off,” he fires back.

“I wasn't...! Tech, I wasn't even...”

He starts laughing at you and now he finally opens his eyes. “You're wasting time again, mésh'la! Must you always do this?”

You'd love to just say “fuck you, Tech,” right about now, but you know how well that would go over. Grasping your ankles, you rest your head on your knees as you look around the room again. There's definitely nothing here to give you any visual clues like last time. You look over at Tech, and your breath catches in your throat as you see that while you've not been focusing, he's gotten his pants down to his knees, and as you look up at him, he cocks an eyebrow and then winks as he's now got his cock in his hand, and he is fully primed. Sudden chills zip down your spine and you feel yourself breaking out in goosebumps. Wait a minute...

“Hey, Tech? The arrector pili muscles are responsible for goosebumps, also known as horripilation, piloerection, or the pilomotor reflex!”

“That's my girl...I knew you could do it. For your reference, you responded with approximately one minute left. You are going to come over here now and finish taking my pants off for me, and when you're done with that, my cock is going in your mouth. Is that acceptable?”

You know your face is flushed, and behind your eyes, you feel the strong heat of arousal burning. Tiny pulsations deep within you trigger wetness to begin flowing once more as you crawl over between his feet, and grab hold of his pants, skinning them off with ease.

Before you comply with his request to start sucking his cock, you do something that momentarily catches him off guard, as it's nothing you've ever done before. Since he's sitting with his knees propped up, you curl an arm around one of his legs and then lean against him, pressing your face to the hot flesh, closing your eyes and savoring the moment. It isn't just arousal devouring your mind and body now, it's the deep love you have for Tech.

“Cyaré, is everything all right? A note of concern is quite detectable in his voice, and he begins to reach for you. Are you feeling ill? What's the matter?”

You sigh happily. “Nothing is wrong, Tech...don't worry.” You open your eyes and look at him, smiling softly. “I love you, Tech. As you said to me earlier, you're the most beautiful creature I've ever encountered in all my travels. Now let me come and take care of you. I can't wait to have you in my mouth...taste your wetness...maybe even let you come there, too...”

He certainly wasn't expecting this reaction and for once, the chatterbox that is Tech, is silent. You giggle and then let go of his leg, moving on all fours until you're right up against him. “Let me help you, baby, please...”you plead quietly.

Guiding his cock into your mouth with one hand, you slowly ease him in. You hear his breath hitch for a moment and he moans quietly as you ease him a little farther in; your free hand knows just what it needs to be doing to make this even better for him, and as you take him in as far as you can, your other hand closes around his balls, slowly squeezing and massaging him.

“M...mésh'la, don't stop... Be a good girl and suck my cock...”

(Aquascape – Phoenix Dance) His head falls back against the couch cushion and his legs close around you just a little. One of his hands comes to rest on the back of your neck lightly, and as you begin to suck on him, you feel him stroking the flesh there, sending more chills shooting down your spine. You always love it when he touches your ears and your neck, because he knows how wet it can make you, and like clockwork, wetness begins to slowly seep from you again.

Closing your eyes to refocus, you begin to move your head to and fro, tongue gliding effortlessly along the underside of his cock, sucking hard as you reach the tip, pulling away to let the tip of your tongue flick rapidfire, eliciting a sharp cry from Tech, and the hand on your neck closes down suddenly, pushing your head back down as he bucks his hips, nestling himself back inside the safe, hot haven of your mouth.

You moan deeply as that incredible thickness fills up your mouth, the vibrations traveling all the way down his cock, earning you quick flexing and even more swelling. You'll have to be careful, or he'll come too soon, and you want to make this special night even more special for the both of you.

You release his balls from your grasp, and you pull your mouth off him, purposely leaving a long trail of saliva behind. You're going to need two hands to stroke him adequately. Inwardly, you can't help but laugh because although he's never directly come out and tell you, it drives him wild when you give him super sloppy blowjobs.

He looks down at you and your eyes meet, and when he sees your tongue connected to his cock only by saliva, he starts to breathe faster and shallower. He can't remember a time when your eyes have shone this brightly, consumed with both love and sheer primal lust. He brings a hand under your chin gently with his index finger, lifting your head up.

“Y/N, do you know how beautiful you are when you have my cock in your mouth?”

You shake your head slightly. “Tech, let me feed...I'm so hungry!”

He lets go of your chin and his hand comes to the back of your head again. He starts pushing you down and your hands guide him back in to your waiting mouth. “Eat your fill, cyar'ika, there's more than plenty...that's the way...”

Grasping his cock tightly, as you draw him farther back in your mouth, your hands corkscrew their way down his shaft, gliding easily as you purposely let saliva dribble out of your mouth. As your hands come up to meet the head of his cock, you pull your mouth away, letting one of your hands close over him, massaging and stroking the sensitive underside with your thumb.

Tech begins to slowly buck his hips, and you hold your hands still for him, closing firmly around him once more, letting him feel that indescribable tightness that mimics what it's going to feel like for him once he decides he wants to fuck you. His moans have become much more frequent and louder, and you know you're pleasing him exactly the way he wants.

“Your cock feels so good in my hands, Tech... So perfectly hot and hard... Do you want my mouth again, baby? I'll suck you dry, if you want me to... You're so fucking beautiful, Tech...I love you...”

“Mésh'la, let me go right now, I'm getting too close,” he chokes out.

Immediately, you release him and his breath comes hard and fast. You can see a light sheen of sweat building on his forehead from the strain of trying to remain totally in control and not lose himself. You scoot back on your heels a little, and put your hands on his knees. In a flash, his hands grab your hips and suddenly you're being picked up and heaved onto the couch, your legs spread wide open for him, glistening with wetness.

“Now it's my turn,” he growls, and he brings his mouth close to your entrance, giving pause to stop and smell you. His olfactory senses are not as acute as Hunter's, but he can still detect pheromones at moderate levels, and right now, the scent of your dripping pussy is almost enough to send him over the edge without even having to touch himself.

Hands gripping your thighs, he lets his tongue snake out and drag through the cleft of your outer lips, picking up the delectable salty and slightly sweet taste of your juices. You let out a gasp of surprise at the sudden intrusion of his tongue, and then you moan his name deeply when he slips his tongue farther in, letting it work its way just inside your entrance, greedy to consume everything you can give him.

You realize he never gave you permission to touch yourself, but the pulsing in your clit is driving you mad. Slipping your hand down just enough so your fingers can graze the slightly retracted hood and the lustrous pearl of your clit, you get no more than a few seconds of contact before Tech's hand comes up and seizes your wrist. He pulls his mouth away from you, your wetness smeared across his face.

“Cyar'ika, once AGAIN, you're not allowed to play with yourself unless I give you permission. Until I tell you otherwise, your pussy is mine do with what I please. Is that understood?”

You're so flustered and aching for release that hot tears begin to prick the corners of your eyes. Your voice wavers slightly as you plead with him, hoping that he'll either let you touch yourself while he works your insides, or hoping that he'll slide his cock in, filling you to your absolute limits, and bang you like a broken screen door.

“Tech, please let me touch myself, I wanna come for you so badly...”

“I'm not ready for you to come, my love. You will wait, and when it's time, you'll be given release...not a moment before. Now, where was I? Oh, yes, just about ready to slide my fingers into you. You've been such a good girl for me so far, Y/N. You will be rewarded soon, I promise.”

He lets go of your wrist and then turns to plant light kisses on your trembling thighs. His lips moving across your flesh feel like butterfly wings, and as he kisses his way down your thigh, he plants kisses on your pubic mound, before turning his attention to the treasure at the center of it all. You hold back a scream of pleasure as his mouth closes over your clit, and as he begins to suck on it, one of his fingers begins to push into you.

(Delerium - Serenity)

Your hands grope the couch cushion blindly, looking for something to hold onto as you watch him digitally penetrate you. No such luck, and you begin to swirl your hips gently in an attempt to get Tech to pick up the pace and start fucking you with those gorgeous long fingers of his. As you did to him, he now does to you, and pulls his mouth away to let his tongue flick effortlessly over your fully engorged clit, chuckling to himself as he pushes a second finger inside you.

Even now, you feel quite stuffed with just his fingers, and the thought of eventually taking his cock triggers another seep of wetness. He moans deeply as he feels the gush around them, and it doesn't take him long to find the tiny spot within your walls that when properly triggered, makes you come hard and productively.

Tech closes his mouth over your clit once again, swirling his tongue across it while alternating with sucking it like you would his cock, letting his head bob just a little bit as he does so. Your head falls back against the back of the couch as now he begins to move his fingers fore and aft within you, gently hooking the tips up so he can stroke that little sweet spot. He has no intentions of letting you come just yet, but he's more than content to edge you.

Deep seated groans of pleasure escape you as he continues his delicious torture. You feel yourself starting to grow close to orgasm, and as much as you want to come, you need him to fuck you good and hard first. “Tech, slow down, I'm getting close,” you nearly sob. You moan his name repeatedly in attempts to get him to stop, but he's purposely ignoring you.

“Cyaré, if you keep moaning any louder, what will the neighbors think?” he murmurs as he pulls his mouth away once more. He can feel your walls starting to constrict around his fingers, the telltale sign that your orgasm is getting ready to break.

The obscene squelching noises his fingers are making as he's stroking your insides is the other tell that you're ready to take him. He slows the gentle stroking and then carefully pulls his fingers out, reaching back down between his legs to start stroking himself once more, using your juices as lube.

“Fuck the neighbors, Tech, I don't care what they think!”

“I don't want to fuck the neighbors, love...I'm only interested in fucking you. Move forward just a little bit, please...” He shifts positions as you move yourself right to the edge of the couch, propping yourself up on your elbows. With cock in hand, he shows you exactly what he wants, stroking his thick length slowly, eyes locked on yours the entire time. “Tell me, Y/N, what shall I do with this, hm?”

You're trying to control your breathing, which has long since become erratic. Your face flushes with intense heat once again, and even though Tech is quite composed, it's taking every ounce of his being to stay in control. “Tech...please,” you whimper. You're not even sure how much you have left to beg him. “Fuck me, Tech, I can't wait anymore... Slide that big cock in me and fuck me senseless...”

“Are you sure, mésh'la? As much as I'm disinclined to acquiesce to your begging, there's one thing to which I cannot say no, when it comes to you.”

He doesn't wait for a reply from you asking what that one thing is, as he positions himself in line with your entrance, and slowly begins to push his way inside. This time that scream can't be held back, and your hands fly to his forearms, gripping them so hard your nails dig furrows in his flesh. He lets out a hiss of shock, rather than one of pain, and his eyes narrow. You've never been quite this way before with him, but as you pull his arms forward in an attempt to get him to push his cock in even deeper, he's more aroused than ever by this primal behavior.

His eyes close and his head falls back a little as he slides ever deeper into you, his girth stretching your inner walls to what feels like their maximum. You feel especially tight, and he can't help but let out a deep sigh, followed by an equally deep moan as you squeeze your walls around him, creating exquisite friction. It would be very easy to lose control and come inside you far too soon, but there's something he'd like to try with you tonight, that the two of you have never done before.

“Cyar'ika,” he groans, “take my cock...take all of it...you're so fucking wet for me...”

You begin to swirl your hips just as he finally parks himself inside you fully, the head of his cock lovingly kissing your sweet spot and your cervix. Letting go of the death grip you have on his arms, now you reach for his hands, closing yours around his as he begins to move. He rocks his hips slowly, watching himself move in and out of you, the sounds of your cries the finest music he's ever heard.

“Oh, Tech,” you moan airily as you squeeze his hands. “Harder...faster...this pussy's all yours, Tech. Ner cyaré...please, I love you...” You've never spoken a word of Mando'a before now, but you learned what some of the terms of endearment are, considering how frequently all of the guys used them with you.

Tech squeezes your hands hard and for a brief moment, you could swear he's getting misty eyed. “...Your accent is a touch peculiar, my love, but...it will suffice. Ni kar'taylír darásuum...”

He lets go of your hands, running his own from your hips down to your silky inner thighs. Closing his hands gently around them, he honors your request, and the lazy thrusting becomes faster and more insistent. Soon he finds a pleasant rhythm that sends you into a state of deep bliss, your moaning constant and deep.

Tech curls his arms under your legs near your hips, pulling you in closer to him as he begins to fuck you just a little harder, slipping over your sweet spot, teasing your walls to start constricting around him...calling for you to touch yourself and bring about the ultimate release... You bring your hand down between your legs one more time, giving pause before touching your hard, swollen clit.

“Tech, please...let me,” you nearly whimper. “Let me come for you...I want you to watch me come on your cock...”

He lets out a harsh groan as you squeeze him tightly, urging him to spill inside you. “Permission granted, mésh'la, but when you're at the eclipse, you must stop...” He slows his pace now, knowing that it can be difficult for you to get close to, or have an orgasm, if he's fucking you too fast. “It's all right, love, show me how you touch yourself when you're fantasizing about me...”

(Lords of Acid - Venus)

You pick up wetness on your fingertips by letting them run over his cock as he pulls back from you, stopping just before he's all the way out. He flexes hard under your touch, amazed by how sensuous you're being, moaning softly as you slowly retract the hood of your clit, the beautiful pink pearl underneath glistening with moisture. You close your eyes to help focus, as your fingertips begin to swirl over the hot nub of flesh; Tech slips his way back inside as you, exhaling sharply as he watches you touch yourself.

“That's it, Y/N, show me how...” he whispers hotly.

A deep sigh lets loose from you as your fingertips draw concentric circles around your clit, then along the sides, and finally underneath, flicking it gently like you would with your tongue on his cock. “Tech, you make me feel so fucking good...look how hard I am for you...” With each deep stroke from him gliding along your sweet spot, the pulsing in your clit continues to grow, and you know you're starting to get close. Everything pulling into a singularity, seemingly crackling with electricity...

As he watches you swirl your fingers a little harder over your clit, he instinctively knows that you're on your ascent. Your gaze meets with his once more, and his eyes are so full of love and deep desire as you share this level of intimacy with him. Faster you work yourself, and subconsciously your back begins to arch upward, your inner walls squeezing his cock like a vise.

“Cyar'ika, slow down, I can feel you getting too close,” he warns. “If it's all right with you, there's something I've always wanted to try with you...will you let me?” He starts pulling out of you as he makes sure you're not touching yourself anymore. As he does, you adopt a mock pouting expression. He's used to you doing this to him to be purposely annoying, but he's not having it now. “Don't be a little brat, Y/N, or I'll stop right now!”

You recoil slightly, and in a small voice, utter words you normally wouldn't for him: “I'll be a good girl, Tech, I promise. You can try anything with me, you know that. What do you have in mind?”

“Let me help you up, and I'll show you. I promise you, I think you will really enjoy this,” he says, getting to his feet, and taking your hands in his to pull you up off the couch. “Come on, mésh'la, follow me; we're not going far.”

He leads you around the back of the couch, then takes your hips in his hands as you wrap your arms around his shoulders. At long last, your lips finally connect in a deep, passionate kiss...his tongue slipping through your lips, moaning deeply into your mouth as your tongue collides with his. “You taste so good, my love...if I'm not mistaken, I do believe you've been drinking desert wine tonight, have you not?,” he murmurs, softly kissing the corners of your mouth, then your forehead.

You can't help but laugh at this. “Shit...you caught me, honey. But you know I can't help myself when it comes to desert wine!” Returning the favor, you cradle his face in your hands and bring your forehead to his, before kissing it gently. “So...what is it you wanted to try, Tech? The suspense is killing me,” you say, with a little bit of sass.

He returns to gently kiss you a few more times, his lips lingering just above yours as he whispers, “why don't you turn around, and I'll show you, hmm? Here, let me help you.” Suddenly, he spins you around and pushes you over the back of the couch. Yelping, you put your hands out to brace yourself as you're bent over, standing on tiptoes as Tech pushes your feet apart. You are fully exposed to him with no way to stop whatever he has in mind.

You hear him laugh softly as he drops to his knees, and then you feel his hands on your ass, kneading the flesh firmly before he begins to spread them apart. For a moment you think he's going to try and feed his cock into your ass, but instead, you feel his tongue plunge into your pussy, gathering every bit of your wetness. Back to your clit he goes, hungry mouth closing over it once more to suck and tease briefly, before pulling away and standing back up.

“I will never tire of seeing you spread open for me like this, cyar'ika... Now take my cock all the way, like a good girl!”

You moan loudly as you feel him press the thick head of his cock flush against your entrance once more. Taking your hips in his hands, he begins to push his way back in so slowly, it's agonizing. He groans deeply as your insides begin to swallow him whole, and once more, he looks down to watch himself disappearing inside you. As he buries himself all the way in, he flexes hard a few times, making you squirm and cry out as you try to get your feet on the floor.

“Don't fight me, baby... Relax, cyaré, I've got you,” he says reassuringly. You feel him pick you up by the hips just a little, relieving the stress in your legs, and now he begins to fuck you, slowly rocking his hips up against your ass, stretching your insides to the maximum. “Take my cock, Y/N, it's all yours,” he moans, as he feels you squeeze your walls against him once more, coaxing him to let go inside you.

“Tech, faster...harder...” you cry, eyes shut as he rocks you into a state of sheer bliss.

Something between a sigh and a deep moan rises from Tech as as he picks up the pace, hands gripping your hips tightly. As a moth is drawn to flame, his gaze can't be pulled from watching himself slip in and out of you effortlessly; it is an endless fascination. You hear his breathing becoming increasingly ragged the harder he fucks you, and you can feel him beginning to swell with each successive stroke. All you want him to do now is push forward with one final surge, lock himself in place, and come hard for you while moaning your name...

“You're so close, baby...come for me, please...fill me up!” you cry.

“Not...just...yet...” he groans, slowing his pace down yet again. He's panting heavily with exertion now, and his grip lessens on your hips. “There's just one more thing I want to experience with you before you and I both have our release...”

You want to scream in frustration as he pulls out of you, but you feel his chest pressing down on your back as his arms come underneath you to lift you up. Your legs feel like wet noodles, and you're afraid you'll fall to the floor, but Tech's strong hands hold you tight against him, his damp cock poking you in the back. Your heart is racing now, feeling slightly apprehensive over what he has in mind.

(Sundial Aeon – Our Eternity)

“Hold still, cyar'ika, I'm going to pick you up. Put your hands behind my neck and hold on. There's something I want you to see.” “See? Tech, what are you...agh, Tech!” you cry out as his hands come down between your legs, resting on your hamstrings as he begins to lift you up. You raise your arms and slip your hands behind his neck as he asks, your head resting against his shoulder. “Tech, this feels so strange,” you moan softly, eyes tightly shut.

“Bear with me, my love...this is new to me, too. Let us learn together,” he murmurs with his nose buried in your hair. Once he has you securely in position, he turns around and slowly moves toward the full-length mirror that is mounted on the closet. It doesn't dawn on you what he has in mind until he stops in front of it. “Look, ner cyaré...look at yourself with a set of fresh eyes.”

You open your eyes and see your reflections in the mirror, Tech looking at you with a serene, loving gaze, holding you perfectly steady, mere inches above the perfect curvature of his thick cock. The soothing blue-green light encompassing the living room serves to accentuate every curve and line of both your bodies. A small gasp of awe leaves you, as you're reeling from how beautiful both of you look.

“By the Maker, Tech...this is unreal,” you say quietly. “Look at us...”

“There are times when I feel like you do not appreciate yourself, mésh'la...as if you do not understand your importance or worth. I want you to see yourself the way I do...as a most resplendent star. With darkness spreading unchecked across the galaxy, I know your light will always guide me home.”

You feel a thick lump in your throat and you can feel yourself getting misty eyed. He's never spoken like this to you before, but you know every single last word is true. Tech is not one to mince words, nor speak half truths. Coming from the man who couldn't even hold your gaze for more than a few seconds at a time, and who was so shy that it took him months to gather the courage to ask if he could hold your hand... This is nothing but love of the highest order, girlie...if you needed any more proof of his devotion to you, this is it.

“Tech...” “Just breathe, baby. Here we go.”

With that, he lowers you down until you feel the head of his cock nudging against your entrance. Moaning lustily, your legs begin to tremble as he brings you down further on him, that beautiful heat and fullness taking over your senses once again. You watch your reflection as he fills you, clit pulsing wildly. You've never seen yourself being spread open like this and penetrated, and the enormity of how arousing this all is, is almost overwhelming.

“Fuuuuuuuck,” you moan deeply, “this pussy's all yours, Tech...”

He lets out a deep moan as he finishes lowering you into place, feeling you constrict your walls around him. “That's right, cyaré...it is!” Now you witness the extent of Tech's immense physical strength as he begins to lift you just a little so he can start fucking you. You watch the mirror transfixed, unable to tear your eyes away from watching him spear you; even in this light, you can see his cock glistening with wetness. Your clit peeks out from its hood, thick and swollen, begging to finally be caressed over the edge.

“Tech...let me come, please,” you manage to utter in between uncontrollable moaning.

“Move with me, mésh'la. I want to watch you come all over my cock... I won't let you go,” he replies gently.

With that, you start to bounce on his cock each time he thrusts upward, your eyes never leaving the mirror, watching Tech's musculature ripple as the two of you quickly find a common rhythm in your motions. You feel his chest heaving against you, breath coming hard and fast as he fucks you. It's when the low, ceaseless moaning starts that you know it's time for you to finish yourself off and give him the ultimate release.

Carefully you release one hand from his neck and bring it down between your legs. You've been edged so much tonight that an orgasm will not take very long, and you know Tech is well on his way to his, for you feel him beginning to swell just a little more inside you with each upward surge. Swirling your fingertips over your wet, hard pearl once more, the electricity returns quickly. Amplified by his cock sliding over your sweet spot, you let out a deep moan as you feel the tiny contractions beginning to swarm and intensify.

“Oh, Tech, I'm getting so close...” you groan as you tighten your grip on the back of his neck.

“I know, cyaré, don't hold back...let it all go,” he whispers. “Give me everything you have...I love you, baby.”

You feel everything beginning to pull inwards into that little singularity, every nerve ending in your clit ablaze, your very breath streaming fire. Tech slows his pace down just a little, moaning deeply as your fingers press into his neck. He can't tear his gaze away as you swirl your hips lightly, stroking your clit for all it's worth, just about at your peak. His cock swells yet tighter within you, and you know he's just about to come, too.

“Cyaré, please...”

“Tech, my good boy, I love you,” you gasp, before unleashing a near-scream as your orgasm breaks, writhing in his arms as the waves of pleasure flood your body.

His hands squeeze your thighs hard as he tries to get you under some semblance of control, before he bucks his hips up hard into you a few short times before you feel him swell to maximum within you. He buries his face against your hair as he exhales sharply, deep moans vibrating against you as he starts to come. Crying out his name as you feel him flex hard a few times, he finishes depositing the last of his seed, then immediately starts fucking you again, still riding the highs of his orgasm.

You're caught off guard by this, and your free hand comes back up around his neck to hold on for dear life. Each successive thrust means you're steadily dripping an admixture of fluids all over the floor, but you couldn't care less. Your gaze returns to the mirror, and you watch breathlessly as Tech runs blindly on sheer instinct. You're both bathed in sweat, your hair completely disheveled, and his lenses are starting to slide down his face a little... “Bear down, mésh'la,” Tech chokes out. “I want to see you push that load out.”

“Whatever you want, ner cyaré,” you reply. “Look up, baby, or you might miss it!”

Tech's attention returns to the mirror, a blissful smile on your face awaiting him. He buries his cock deep in you one last time, then quickly lifts you off him as you let your pelvic floor take over, pushing hard as his cock slips out of you. His eyes go wide in amazement as a gush of fluid comes out of you, spattering all over the floor, with some of it managing to hit the mirror, too.

You can't help but let out a gasp when you see what you've done, and then you start to laugh when you catch Tech's expression – he's completely dumbfounded. He starts to sink down to the floor, bringing you with him, carefully setting you down. Looking back at the mirror, you can see the wetness slowly rolling its way down, and you're feeling pretty proud of yourself for rendering Tech speechless. You look over at him and he pushes his lenses back into place, shaking his head a little.

“Cyar'ika... You are absolutely incredible. But I must ask...all of that...that wasn't all mine, was it?”

You grin and shake your head. “No, Tech, it wasn't. A good part of it was all mine. Pretty sure this is the first time you've ever made me do that, too.”

“Beyond fascinating,” he murmurs, tapping his index finger against his cheek. “I think I must explore this a lot more with you, if that's all right.”

You lean over and kiss the corner of his mouth softly, then slip your tongue in for a deep, loving kiss. “Anytime you'd like, Tech. I can't believe everything that's happened tonight, and I must admit, you are quite creative....”

He chuckles softly. “Contrary to popular belief, mésh'la, I do have good ideas from time to time.” Painstakingly, he gets to his feet and braces himself on the back of the couch, momentarily unsure of his ability to not collapse after all that. “Why don't you go fix up your...nest, and I'll clean all this up.”

You do as he asks, rearranging the giant pile of blankets before burying yourself within them. You feel like your entire body is glowing, radiating not just heat, but all of the love you have for Tech. Exhaustion finally sets in, and it's not long before Tech joins you in your nest, pulling you up on him so your head rests on his chest, his arm around you protectively.

“Tech? I want to do game night again some time, if you want,” you murmur sleepily.

“Oh, is that so? Even after all I subjected you to?”

“Mhmm...but next time, I get to pick the game.”

#star wars #the bad batch #clone force 99 #tbb tech #tech x reader #tech x you #tech smut #tech bad batch #soft dom tech

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lifblogs · 2 months

Text

Better Late Than Dead

Fandom: The Bad Batch Rating: Teen and Up Audiences Pairing: Tech/Phee Word Count: 1268 Summary: Tech arrives on Pabu for the first time since he was rescued from Dr. Hemlock, and put his mind back together (mostly). A special someone is there waiting for him. AUTHOR'S NOTE: Disclaimer, I have PCS (Post-Concussion Syndrome) so this story could be a mess, it could be great. I don't know, but I tried, and I had fun. First story I've written since I hit my head. I am sooooo nervous about it for some reason. This fandom seems like nothing but kind, though. If you read it, thank you. READ ON AO3

Tech paused getting off the ramp. Once he stepped off onto Pabu he would no longer just be on the Marauder with his family. He would exist in a public space, with people who… might not understand, who would see him differently. He was different.

There were some stares from the crowd, but he couldn’t track all of them, faces blurring and disappearing as he watched. But maybe those eyes were still on him.

Subconsciously, he touched the back of his head, feeling the metal plate there that replaced part of his skull, felt the lines where his scalp had split, where either through injury or one of his many surgeries his brain had been exposed. His new and enhanced left eye (replacing the gouged one from Plan 99) searched the space before him frantically, but he tried to take in what the right saw first: bright, blue skies with white, puffy clouds; a calm ocean for kilometers on end; happy people in colorful clothing—survivors, every one of them. How could such a place exist when he’d been through such horrors in Hemlock’s dark labs? Now it was like this beautiful place only half-existed.

The beauty was what his right eye saw. The left one… He hadn’t had a chance to reprogram it yet. Most of what he saw through it was a dizzying array of heat signatures, structural integrities, and the best places to shoot a target. According to his eye, everyone was a target. This was all superimposed over his regular vision from his right eye. The confusing signals to his brain usually left him with the feeling as if his eyes were being scooped out (half a phantom pain and reminiscent of his real horrors), and it would throb up into his head. With the metal plate added in, he had more headaches than he could manage on most days.

Still feeling anxiety churning in his gut; cold, clammy fear gripping the back of his neck and stripping him bare, he held up his new datapad. Tech decided to do a quick check of his metabolic system, and the absorption levels of his various injected pain meds, and their half-lives. This was done through a chip implanted at the base of his skull. Unfortunately that had required an extra surgery, seeing as that hadn’t fit in the area where he’d needed his skull repaired.

His datapad beeped quietly, and a yellow bar showed up near the top. He’d need to re-inject his left hip soon.

Tech glanced up, the real galaxy around him becoming too real. Coming towards the ramp with a hesitant smile and shining eyes was Phee.

His heart suddenly seemed too big, blood somehow beating hard all across his torso, even as it crawled up his throat. Phee. He really had thought of her, even remembered one instance of Hemlock torturing him for mentioning her name. He shuddered, his mechanical left leg shifting in a way that seemed too obvious and inhuman to him.

Tech wasn’t the same.

Am I even Tech?

No, no. You’ve… you’ve been over this already. Done the work. I. Am. Tech.

And he had thought about Phee in what he had thought would be his last moments. He’d surprisingly had the time to think about a lot of people.

He’d thought about his last-minute realization, and he’d mourned what could have been. And now… there she was. Here he was. Pabu. Safety. Phee.

Tech took a deep breath, tried to swallow back his fear, and stepped down the ramp, all too aware of how he looked now. Feeling clumsy with this changed body, he struggled to put his datapad back on his belt. One last thing to put between this moment and the next, the inevitable.

Phee met him at the bottom of the ramp, letting him step off. For a moment the voices around them dimmed, but neither of them spoke.

Oh no, she’s horrified. She’s disgusted. She’s—

“You look different.”

Blunt, as always.

“Oh.”

“I think I like it.”

“You… do?” Tech asked, caught off guard as he usually was with her. (How could anyone script conversations with a flirtatious, bold pirate?)

She shrugged. Was she… crying?

Some of his vision blurred. His eye malfunctioning? No. His right one. He was crying.

Hesitantly, she touched his shoulder. Tech jumped a little, but let her warm, assuring touch stay there. He wondered what that hand felt like—strong, calloused.

“It’s you, isn’t it?”

Was this him? All these differences, and injuries, and modifications?

Well, he was still Tech, so he supposed that made the plate in his skull him, the chip, the cybernetic leg, and eye. Still… Tech. Just different. A new Tech.

“I suppose.” He was surprised to hear himself speak.

“Then of course I like it! But I have a bone to pick with you.”

Tech almost backed away, startled, as her finger prodded against his chest.

What bone?

What—Oh!

“Seven months?!” she went on, voice raised and rough. “I don’t see you for seven months?! And all I could get out of Mr. Face Tattoo was that you were ‘indisposed.’”

“Sorry I’m… late,” he got out, as if that somehow summed up everything that had changed his life, that had even affected hers.

That’s when a sob left Phee, and her tears spilled, and she cupped Tech’s scarred face in her hand. It was calloused, just like he’d thought it’d be. Something about her touch was reassuring and invigorating all at once.

And it was kind.

Tech hadn’t realized how much he’d needed someone outside his family to support him until that moment. It left him weak in his right knee, and he might have trembled.

Phee sobbed again, and then got out with a smile bright enough to rival the stars, “But still—better late than dead, I always say.”

Tech held her hand against his face for a second, marveling at the feeling, her words. Then he wasn’t sure who pulled who into an embrace, but suddenly she was flush against him, her heart beating fast, chest moving with her sobs, a wild scent of ocean salt, island fruit, and some kind of warm spice surrounding him. With his chin tucked against her shoulder, and her head resting against his he learned her hair was a softness he’d never felt before.

“Though of course you had to lose one brown eye on me,” she joked. He was surprised when it didn’t hurt, not from her.

“I’ll try not to lose the other one.”

“You’d better. What am I supposed to call you now? ‘Brown Eye’ doesn’t sound romantic.”

“We could… make it romantic,” he ventured, voice a soft murmur against her.

Phee laughed, and pulled back, patting his cheek. “Honey, I’m not sure you know what romance is.”

For the first time since Plan 99, months and months ago, Tech laughed—something he’d thought he would never be capable of again. And, he thought, maybe he’d like to do it again. With Phee.

“I’m smart,” he assured her, watching as she wiped away her tears, wishing he could do it for her. He went on, surprising himself, “I’m sure I can learn.”

Phee took his hand in hers, and Tech was startled by how much he enjoyed that her hand was smaller than his.

“Well, come on then,” she said, starting to drag him along, towards society as a whole new person. “You’re gonna have a lot of studying to do.”

Tech smiled, somehow, as he followed her, leaving just a little bit of that dark lab behind him.

#star wars #the bad batch #tbb #tbb tech #phee genoa #tech x phee #techphee #techphee fanfiction #tbb fanfiction #the bad batch fanfiction #star wars fanfiction #star wars tbb #star wars tbb fanfiction #fanfiction #tech #writing #my writing

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inconspicious-random-thoughts · 3 months

Text

Alastor my favorite, but Vox is not close behind. (Story of Vox afterlife amrite?) I just find this guy intriguing. Mostly his dynamics with the other overlords.

I would like to share some ideas I have on this guy. I only know Vox from the one episode he appeared in. Some of these ideas might have been said by someone else. I haven't been following anything, so as far as I know, these are been unsaid and I figured to share my ideas. I already mention my thoughts about his and Alastor dynamic last week so I won't go on with that in this post.

Vox seems to be the most level headed, patient, mild one (Alastor trigger aside) out of the three Vs that we seen so far. Val is volatile and violent. Velvette is rather level headed but she also a bit hot headed as well. Granted we haven't seen too much about the V's, but Vox seems to be the "nice" one out of the three. We seen the other two yell and berate their employees. Vox, we haven't seen lash out at anyone but Alastor. I'm sure Vox is guilty of cruelty. He did climb up to become an overlord in Hell after all, so he screw over A LOT of people to do so, if not straight out disposed of.But I think he went about it more strategically and intelligently over brute strength or force.

I find his relationship with Val interesting. They are definitely friends with benefits. But Val being...well..Val-volatile and violent. I have no doubt Vox had been a victim during those moods. I'm really curious on the dynamic of that. Val is use to taking his aggressions on weaker demons. So I wonder how it goes with someone own power level. Why Vox just let it keep happening? I do think Val does get Vox hooked up on the same "poison" as Angel Dust but Vox has a greater immunity by being an overlord so the affects are dampen or its just used sparsely on him.

I think Val alive is very similar to how he is in Hell. A abusive pimp and a slew of criminal activity. He just a lot more successful in his after life. It's easy to see why he's in Hell.

Vox on the other hand, I don't think he really committed any crimes. If he did, it was white collared stuff. But he did sin, Either by pride or greed or both. I think Vox lied heavily while alive which may lead in why his motto is "Trust us with..." with whatever service he selling. Sadly, when someone ask you to trust them, its usually someone you shouldn't outside of someone you know well.

I have a few ideas what he may be doing while alive.

We know he died during the 1950s and its life was more likely involved with tv. With his charisma, Vox screams showman or salesman, since he seems most concern about the Vs brand.

My first idea is he a Tv salesman. Think sketchy car salesman but with Tvs. He lies, he bait and switch. He knowingly sells knock offs for brand name prices...etc. The deceiving and the greed can easily land him in Hell.

My 2nd idea is he's a appliance repairman, mainly tvs. His business model is similar to example one but a bit more honest work. But having knowledge to repair items might explain his interested keeping up and ahead on the technology field. I like the idea having a more tech savvy trade job while he alive but in the 1950's I think tech support knowledge was rather limited for common folk.

His death was accidental electrocution fixing a faulty tv.

Now my last idea and one I lean heavily one over the other two is, he was a tv host. Which would add another level to his and Alastor rivery. Both being host of a program on their preferred media.

I'm not entirely sure what played during the 1950s. But from the top of my head, his hosting choices would be news anchor, Talk show or game show (possibly game show announcer). I'm going with, he was a very popular game show host, going by the game winning noise he emitted when Val guessed correctly.

It would fit his showmanship. It would also explain his salesman side as well. Back in that era, game shows was basically huge advertisement.

"Bobby, tell him what he won!"

-"He won a brand new kitchen! Complete with 'brand name here' wood cabinets and mint green appliances! Above is 20 feet of smart modern cabinets of maple covering the full length of the kitchen. Which includes a new 'brand name here' 13 cubic foot refrigerator freezer....etc"

I'm guessing his sins would be lying and stepping on anyone to get to the top to where he is. Maybe he committed some low fraud or embezzlement etc... for his show or his personal life.

He seem youngish/prime of his life 30s to have a natural death. Not that he exempt from that but lowers the possibility. I'm guessing he had a quick random accidental death. I'm still going with electrocution to help explain his powers. I have no idea what the 50's electric grid on stage is like but I'm sure they're not always OSHA approved. Or maybe a stage light fell on him, who knows?

That's all my thoughts and ideas on the Tv man. Hopefully it seems logical and interesting.

#hazbin hotel #alastor the radio demon #hazbin hotel alastor #hazbin alastor #hazbin hotel headcanon #hazbin hotel theory #hazbin vox #hazbin hotel vox #hazbin valentino #hazbin hotel valentino

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zoeykallus · 7 months

Note

After Reading your stories again, damn, I missed them, they were so good and fun :D

So I've got this head canon that Echo wears his headset to improve his hearing (which got bad after getting blown up).

So what about it got damaged and tech needs some time to repair it. In the meanwhile the reader tries to help him get along with his impaired hearing. (And maybe they found out something about their feelings in the process ;)

I just love your one shots and Echo is just my favorite ^^°

And as always, just have fun and don't feel pushed to do anything which you don't like to.

Aloha my dear!

So nice to still have you around! I'm glad you are still enjoying my stuff 😊

And again, sorry for the long wait! Let me see what I can do for you...

Echo x Fem!Reader One-Shot - Without Words

Warnings: Mostly Fluff (Possible Trigger: Mentioned Hearing Loss)

___________

Ko-Fi (If you feel like giving me some coffee)

___________

>Master List<

"Do you really have to do this now?" asks Echo critically, frowning unwillingly as Tech sets about taking the headset off him. He feels uncomfortable, his eyes wandering to the clock again and again. He's excited enough as it is, it won't be long until your second date, and he wants to be on time, especially he doesn't want you to notice any more of his problems. It's enough that you know about his legs and his arm, he doesn't really want to reveal his hearing loss to you right away. Not yet. He wants to wait for the right moment, but when is the right moment for that anyway? Tech says matter-of-factly as always, "You want the problems fixed as soon as possible, don't you? It won't take long." Echo sighs somberly. "Yeah, I do, but I'm about to meet her". "Oh? A second date?" asks Tech, surprised. Echo says grumpily, "Don't act surprised, she simply likes me". Tech shrugs and says nonchalantly, "Our squad rarely has prospects of a romantic nature, by that I mean all of us, not just you" Echo laughs softly and says, "She's only dating me though, and I'm certainly not going to share that girl with you" "If you did, that would be weird too" Tech notes dryly.

He loosens the last screws and takes off the headset. Echo blinks a few times, hearing a low hiss he always hears when he's not wearing the headset. "This feels like shit," he grumbles, only partially able to hear his own voice as he does so. He feels Tech tap him on the shoulder and follows his finger pointing, in your direction. You've arrived earlier than scheduled. He sees your smile and can't help it, he has to smile too. "Hi," Echo says softly, almost timidly, and raises his hand in greeting, a gesture you return. But then you say something to him and all he can hear are muffled, distorted sounds that barely penetrate through the constant static noise. Echo raises both hands toward his ears, shakes his head and shrugs helplessly. "I can barely hear anything," he says louder than usual, and it feels very strange to barely hear his own voice as well. You look from one to the other for a moment, but then you smile in understanding and nod. You exchange a few words with Tech, but he can't understand what you're saying. A moment later, you gently grab Echo's hand and pull him with you. Over his shoulder, he calls out to Tech, "Hurry up with that thing, please."

Tech makes a shooing hand gesture to signify for him to go with you. Outside the Marauder, you walk just a few steps, to a bench beyond the landing area under a tree with a sweeping, low-hanging canopy in full bloom. It's a nice spot, and for the moment you're alone. You feel Echo looking around frantically as you walk, hearing phantom noises and expecting to run into someone or get hit by a speeder. You squeeze his hand encouragingly, gently tugging on it so that he closes in on you. You place your other hand on his forearm and smile at Echo. You can't use words, but Echo sees in your expression that you want to tell him you have everything under control, he doesn't have to worry. He's a little wobbly on his feet, every time he walks without his hearing aid his sense of balance suffers a little, but you gently and safely guide him to the bench beneath the flowering tree. His hearing has deteriorated over time after the Citadel, the damaged eardrums simply not recovering, Tech's guess is that this is also due to some nerve damage. Occasionally, however, the headset needs to be serviced and Echo is actually glad that Tech is taking care of this.

You sit down together on the bench, in the shade of the low-hanging branches. You hear him sigh in relief. Echo trusts you, yet he is glad to be able to sit down and not have to rely on his hearing or sense of balance for a moment. He looks at you, and you sense that something is on his mind. When he speaks, he is again much louder than you are used to, but you don't mind. "Didn't think you'd agree to a second date." You laugh softly, and he smiles when he sees it. Then you raise your hand, showing him first one finger, then a second, a third and so on. Showing him the whole again and again with a big smile. "You want more dates?" he asks, surprised. At your nod, he asks with a wry smile, "What do you want with damaged goods like me, anyway?" You pull a pout and shake your head, wagging your finger reproachfully, before smiling and kissing his cheek. When you look at him again, his cheeks have a little more color than usual. He laughs softly and says, "I like you a lot, too."

Your radiant smile makes his heart beat faster, and he has to take a deep breath to collect himself. This feeling that you trigger in him is quite new for him, but yet he already doesn't want to miss it. The fast pulse, the fluttering in his stomach, the tingling under his skin and this constant urge to smile. He's so excited with you and at the same time more relaxed than ever. "You're very special," he says a little breathlessly. You emphatically place your hand on his chest. "Me too?" he asks with a grin. At your energetic nod, he laughs softly again. You hear Tech say, "Finished with the headset. Am I interrupting?" and turn to face him. "No, you're not interrupting." Echo sees his brother with the headset and sighs in relief. You give them both some space and Tech puts the headset back on Echo. When he's done with it, Tech asks, "So, how does it feel? Can you hear me?" Echo gives him a thumbs up and says, "Fine, Tech, thank you very much" "You're welcome anytime." As Tech leaves you alone again, Echo looks at you, he grins and says, "Now let me hear your wonderful voice" You laugh softly and say, "It's not that wonderful"

Echo beams at you in love and says, "Oh yes, for me, it is". The way he looks at you is so wonderfully dreamy, makes your heart beat faster. "So you said last time you wanted to show me something?" you ask curiously. Echo smirks and says, "Hunter let me have the secondary shuttle for the day." You laugh softly and ask, "Are you trying to kidnap me?" "Something like that, of course, only if that's what you want." "As long as we don't go to Tatooine," you say with a little giggle. Echo laughs heartily. "No, don't worry about it. But have you ever seen a sunset in the lake scenery on Naboo?"

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@starwarsnerd111

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batvvvvv · 4 months

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"and this has nothing to do with the plume of smoke rising from... oh, just about where your lab was, last i checked?" "shut the fuck up"

our plot begins on edward's doorstep! i'm still trying to figure out how i want to format all of this so um... bare with me! but this is what i'm doing for now because i don't have the patience for comics. story introduction below !!

after the world ended (not actually; although gotham had collapsed into ruin, the rest of the world was quite content ignoring their existence. let the city eat itself alive, they reasoned, and the problem would solve itself.) edward found himself incredibly, mind-numbingly bored. with everyone making chaos and scrambling for power, there’s no audience to his crime, and no payoff. money is obsolete, he already has all the power he needs with essentially a monopoly on tech and repair, and there’s no thrill of the chase without a functioning gcpd. he needs someone to BOTHER.

and who better than his old friend (read: guy who wants him dead) jonathan crane to bother while everything else goes to shit! so he heads over to jonathan's last known residence and proposes an alliance. jon tells him where he can stick it, and slams the door in his face.

then, about a week later, jonathan's entire laboratory is blown sky-high. jon has no idea who did it, (a lot of people hate him enough for that) and if ed has a clue he's not going to say a word. but nonetheless jonathan is now homeless and in dire straits! all of his supplies were destroyed, half of his work didn't make it out of the fire, and they're having a pretty bad goddamn day, alright, so their judgement isn't the greatest right now!

his first thought is the sirens. ivy is pretty much his only friend in gotham, but the sirens are at full occupancy right now with plenty of their own problems to solve, and jon knows ivy: she'll just tell him to suck it up and figure it out

again, no one else in the city likes him, so he's pretty much out of luck. until he remembers a... certain someone. and jon hates the idea. he really, really hates it. but they're down on their luck and if they want a chance at finding their footing and saving what's left of their hard work, they need a place to stay, and fast.

so he shows up covered in ash on edward nygma's doorstep, to request a second chance at that offer. edward laughs in his face, obviously, but lets him in nonetheless! he reasons that he could use the entertainment around the house, anyway.

neither of them have any idea what they're getting themselves into, but don't worry! the horrors are just around the corner <3

#first plot post everyone cheer #i mean not technically since it precedes the plot but it's necessary info and it counts #can't say anything about the frequency of these posts. midterms are coming up soon for me #so as always. Who Knows #but i'm excited to keep working on this :D #batman au #batman v #edward nygma #jonathan crane #riddler dc #scarecrow dc #scriddler #technically? they're here and it'll happen eventually #batman v plot #i guess i should tag that too for organization purposes

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dreamswithghosts · 1 year

Text

Tech's Wires (Tech x Reader)

This is an 18+ fic, anyone who is under the age of 18 please do not read this!

Summary: You and Tech were peacefully traveling through hyperspace on a small mission when all of a sudden something happens to the ship. Tech had to crawl into a small space to get to where he needed to fix the ship. Something scandalous probably ensues afterward.

Author's Notes: This was purely inspired by an old sailor story my dad and his navy buddies always talked about. They were all on the same nuclear submarine back in the day. There was a time when the nuclear reactor that was on the sub was malfunctioning and they were going to lose power to the ship. My father had to crawl into this little hole full of wires to fix the malfunction so they could all still have power. Very much a do-or-die moment, but the kicker was he couldn't fit with the safety gear so he had to crawl in there in just his underwear. Also, I want to thank everyone who reads this and likes this. This is the first time I have ever publicly shown any of my writing. I hope you guys like it and if you have any ideas or suggestions you want to share please let me know! I plan to eventually post this on ao3 as well once I make an account. I have always been a reader and have written for my own personal pleasure. I really hope you like this. Edit: Link to fic on AO3

Warnings: 18+, NSFW, grinding, mild biting, unprotected sex (please wrap it before you tap it boys and girls and everything else), creampie, after care is important y'all

Word Count: 2.6k

You are jerked awake from the feeling of the Havoc Marauder being yanked out of hyperspace and the alarms instantly blaring throughout the small modified attack shuttle. Tech was out of his bunk in a flash before you even had a chance to lift your head from your bunk. He was in the cockpit in seconds and his voice could barely be heard over the blaring sound of the alarm. You pulled yourself out of the bunk quickly making your way to the cockpit.

"Take over the controls and keep the ship steady." Tech hollered, he was pulling a panel off of the inner walls of the cockpit. You threw yourself into the pilot's seat, grabbing the steering wheel and holding the ship steady. You also reached over, turning the alarms off so you could think clearly as you flew the ship through the dark black vacuum of space. Behind you, you heard Tech grumbling and grunting as he reached into the open panel pulling out some wires.

"Tech, what's going on?" Your voice was full of worry as you noticed that they were in the middle of nowhere.

"The wires to the hyperdrive must have short-circuited and fried the system. I'm going to need to get into the wall to fix it." Tech explained. You then heard the sounds of plastoid armor dropping to the ground and the sound of the leather from his belts followed quickly after. You glanced over the back of the red seat spotting Tech pulling his shirt off of his body, and you felt your face flush a little.

"Tech? What are you doing?" You quickly yanked your eyes back over to the dash of the ship.

"I need to crawl into the wall to do the repair and I cannot fit with my armor and clothes," Tech said simply. Your hands gripped the wheel tighter, "Tech, that's dangerous."

"If I do not do this, we will be floating in space with no power soon." He argued. You made a small sign knowing that once Tech sets his mind on something, you know there's no changing it. You peeked over the chair again to see the last of Tech's bare leg disappear into the wall. A few minutes later, the ship started to fly more smoothly and you heard Tech remerge from the open panel in the wall. He appeared next to you, shooing you out of the pilot's seat to get the ship back on track and back into hyperspace.

"We should be fine until we land back on Ord Mantell." Tech signed, getting up to retrieve his things, but you stopped him.

"Wait. You're bleeding." You reached out, grabbing his arm. He made no protest as you led him into the main hull of the ship grabbing the medical supplies.

"It's just a small cut. I will be fine." Tech objected vocally, but made no move to move away from you.

"Yes, but who knows what else is in these walls? I don't want to risk any kind of infection." You argued, sitting him down in one of the chairs and opening the medkit. You started to clean the small cut on his bicep. It took you little time to put a bandage on it and fix up the other small one on his back. Once you were done, you gave him a quick, light kiss on his cheek.

"All done soldier." You smiled lightly at him and put the medkit away. Tech looked over at you, a very small flush on his cheeks in the dark lighting on his cheeks. He might have finally caught up to the fact that he is sitting next to you in just his underwear.

"How much longer till we are back at Ord Mantell?" You asked lightly, moving to sit in the other chair in the main hull of the small fighter ship.

"Oh, probably only for another hour or two," Tech answered after a second like you had pulled him out of his thoughts. You raised your eyebrow at him, "You alright?"

Tech sat still in his chair, his sharp brown eyes staring you down. The only movement he made was his left hand reaching up to adjust the goggles on his face. He took in a deep breath, "Come over here."

You gave him a surprised look. This tends to be out of the ordinary for him. The two of you had been doing a small dance around each other for months now, trying to see if the other liked each other more than friends. It was obvious to everyone else around them and they never failed to tell you that. Tech has never been forward like this.

Your curiosity gets the better of you. You stand up walking the short distance from your chair over to where he sat. When you were close enough, he reached out and pulled you into his lap, making you squeak in surprise. His hands lightly rested on your hips, leaving you plenty of space to move away if you wish.

He gazed at you through his goggles, "Would you allow me… To make love to you."

You blinked once or twice, your brain processing his words for a second. Being this close to him, you could see the small blush on his cheeks. You made a small smile, nodding your head, "Please."

Tech took the opportunity and leaned forward, kissing you on the lips. You made a small hum, moving your head to accommodate his goggles. This isn't the first time you've kissed him. There was a drunken night between the two of you where there was a small bruise on your cheek from accidentally hitting his goggles. This was the first time the two of you kissed without the hindrance of something else in your systems.

You wrapped your arms around his bare shoulders, lightly pressing yourself up against him as he ran his tongue over your bottom lip. You gave him easy access, making a small moan at the feeling of your tongues sliding against each other. That seemed to push Tech forward, he pushed his hands under your shirt, pulling it up over your head. The clothing dropped to the floor followed quickly with your bra. Tech's hands started to wander, mapping out your torso, taking a moment to grope your breasts. His thumbs ran over your nipples, playing with them until they were hard.

You decide to take the initiative, moving away from his lips and starting to kiss down his jaw and neck. You paused at the sensitive skin right at the base of his giving that spot more attention. He granted you with a whimper that sounded amazing from him. You instantly wanted to hear that again and again, so you started to slowly grind your hips down against his lap. Through your pants, you were able to feel he was already hard as he rocked his hips up against yours.

"Is that a pistol in your pocket or are you happy to see me?" You teased him lightly, leaning back some to get a good look at the man flushed in front of him. His goggles were knocked out of place and his blush had increased dramatically, it spread to his shoulders and chest.

You got a snort and a small crooked smile from Tech. Moving his hands down to your ass, using them a moment to guide your hips on top of him. Both of you shuttering at the pleasure you got from each other.

"You might be a little surprised when it doesn't shoot blaster bolts." Tech teased, his hands moving away from your clothed ass to the underside of your thighs. He promoted a laugh from you from his words, not expecting him to say something like that.

While he had you distracted with your laughter, he shifted under you, pulling you into his arms and standing up. He held you with some surprising strength that only a clone could have. You instantly wrapped your arms around his shoulders, holding onto him out of the small worry that he might drop you. He walked the two of you over to the bunks, laying you down on the bottom one.

"This spot is probably better for now." Tech hummed as he crawled over you, "Eventually I want you in the pilot's chair. If this ever happens again."

"You've thought about this with me?" You asked, pulling him close to you again, his chest pressing flush to yours. The warmth from his body was already starting to become an addiction.

"Yes." He hissed out, leaning down, pulling you into another kiss. You made a small groan from the kiss once again, your legs instinctively wrapping around his hips so he could grind down against you.

He moved away from your kiss, slowly moving down your body, kissing and sucking on your neck and chest pulling all kinds of sounds from him. Eventually, he got to your hips, his long fingers dipping under the waistband of your pants. He paused for a moment looking up at you to silently ask you again for permission. You nodded your head and your pants and underwear were quick to be pulled from your body.

"Marvelous." Tech breathed looking down at you completely bare for him. You were flushed just as much as him feeling a little subconscious now that you had his complete attention. His hands moved down your sides to your hips and then between your thighs. His hand moved between your legs, being quick to find your clit, rubbing it in small circles. Your back arched off the bunk a little as you let out a deep moan from the pleasure it brought you.

"Oh my god, Tech." You gasped as you felt him slide one of his fingers in you, meeting barely any resistance from how wet you were. His breathing was uneven as he watched you squirm under his touch.

He was quick to add in another finger to make sure you would be able to take him. You were so worked up that his menstruations had you already close to your peak. Tech let out a heavy moan at the sight, pulling away, "You are absolutely gorgeous."

"Tech." You shuttered at his compliments. He smiled down at you, shifting himself as he pulled the last bit of clothing that was still on his body off. You gasped at the sight of him in his naked glory in front of you. He looked divine.

"As much as I would love to see you cum from just my hands, I would prefer to see you cum on my cock." Tech's voice was deep and breathy, sending shivers up your spine. He grabbed your thighs to shift the two of you in a good position between your legs. He ended up pulling one of your legs on his shoulder.

"W-Wait." You gasped suddenly freezing, "Protection."

Tech paused looking down at you confused for a moment, "You mean condoms? I doubt they're hardly necessary. Clones are sterile and we were designed to not be able to contract illnesses easily. Plus we were tested regularly. I'm clean. Are you?"

"Yeah." You breathed still looking up at him, a little concerned. He leaned down kissing you softly on the lips, moving your leg so you didn't have to stretch it too far, "Then there should be nothing to be concerned about."

The two of you kissed a bit more and you slowly moved away again to ask him a question, "Are you sure? You're not lying to me are you?"

"Why would I lie to you?" Tech gave you a confused look and you looked away from him off into the distance, biting your lip.

"If you don't want to do this, you can just tell me." Tech's voice was laced with concern now. You jerked your eyes back to the man on top of you, "What? No, I do! Sorry."

Tech stayed where he was. His thumbs lightly stroked your skin, "Would you feel better if I were to find some form of protection?"

You thought about it for a second, a little concerned you ruined the mood. But as you glanced down, you saw he was still hard, flushed red, and leaking precum out of the tip. You found yourself shaking your head no.

"I need to hear you say it." Tech's voice was soft as he leaned down again giving you a small kiss on your cheek.

"Tech, I want you to fuck me." You breathed, your hands reaching up to wrap around his shoulders. Tech's breath hitched, his exhale another whimper.

"As you wish, my dear." That was all the motivation he needed, moving the two of them again between your legs. He slowly slid his dick into you making you gasp at the stretch. He started to set a steady pace, the both of you pulling moans from each other. You ran your nails up his back, probably leaving small little lines. He leaned down kissing your neck more leaving small bites that will probably leave a mark.

Eventually, he angled his hips right, hitting a spot in you that practically made you scream. The both of you panting and moaning, a small sheen of sweat on both of your skins. He hit the spot a few more times and before you could warn him, you felt yourself cuming around his cock. His name is like a prayer on your lips.

"Oh fuck." Tech gasped his hips rocking into you as you felt your walls squeeze around him. He made a few more weak thrusts and then he was cumming inside you. You moaned at the feeling of his warm, white seed filling you. The both of you held onto each other tightly, panting hard as you came down from the high of the orgasm.

"That was…" you breathed as Tech shifted himself so he could lean up and kiss you on the lips. He smiled softly against your lips, "Yeah."

The two of you stayed like that for a moment, softly kissing each other as he got soft in you. Eventually, he pulled away both of you groaning at the feeling of him pulling out of you.

"I will be right back," Tech informed, moving off the small bunk the two of you were on. He went into the small fresher on the ship, eventually coming back with a small damp towel. You had moved to your side but moved again as he settled himself between your legs again. He gently ran the cloth over you, efficiently cleaning you up. Once he was done he lightly tapped your thigh, making the sound of a slap, but not being painful at all.

"Okay. Go use the fresher and then come back here." Tech instructed, his voice is softer than it normally is. Honestly, it sounds very similar to the sound of him waking up and still feeling tired. You nod, moving out of the bunk as he laid down on it in your place. You went to the fresher doing your business and returned like he had asked you to. He was still in the bunk, naked, but with a blanket laying over his hips. He had his tablet in his hands. He put it aside when he saw you, motioning for you to join him.

"Didn't think you would be the type to be a cuddler after sex." You teased him lightly as you laid back down on the small bunk, Tech wrapped his arms around your waist pulling you into a spooning position. He made a small huff kissing your shoulder as you wrapped the blanket around the two of you.

"Don't want to let go of you yet."

#bad batch #the bad batch #tbb #star wars #star wars bad batch #clone force 99 #tech #tech bad batch #bad batch tech #tech x reader #reader x tech #tech fic #bad batch fic #tech bad batch x reader #tech bb #reader insert

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vashbug · 1 year

Text

Dropped into No Man’s Land Ch 3

Summary: Vash fixes your phone and wonders about your life on earth. The two of you travel through the desert. You run into an old friend.

Notes: I’m having such a good time writing this. If you want more extensive notes, you can find them on AO3. :)

First Chapter: Here

Second Chapter: Here

Read on AO3: Here

***

Vash thinks his new companion is a little strange. Well, a little might be a bit generous. He thought, at first, that this stranger he picked up in the desert was... quirky. Wearing clothes that looked far too clean and traveling way too light, but innocent-looking enough that he didn't spare a second thought about helping them.

Now he's wondering if he's going to regret that decision.

He sits beside them now, watching them flash through an incomprehensible range of emotions as they practically slam their fingers down on a set of ancient keys. He wouldn't have believed they were a being from another dimension if it weren't for the strange old computer and the pristine coat and shoes. He watches them cautiously as they let out a manic laugh and run their hands through their hair.

He's not going to ask them what they're looking at; most of what he can see on the screen is text and tiny boxes arranged neatly in rows and lists. It's not really his business, and although he's dying to know, keeps his mouth shut.

As his new friend is staring into the glowing screen of their computer, Vash decides to tinker with the strange little brick of technology in the firelight. He flips it over, examining the edges, the buttons, the charging port. They called it a phone, which he thinks he remembers from Rem's stories. At least, the name is familiar. He thought phones would be bigger.

He doesn't ask for permission before he decides to pry it open. Laying out the cloth and tools he uses when he cleans and repairs his gun, he pops the screen off with little effort. The inside has wires and circuits he's never seen before. If he didn't believe this person was from the past before, he certainly believes them now.

He notices that a few wires are loose, probably from their accident. It doesn't take long before he's carefully reconnected everything and snapped the screen back into place. He presses the buttons on the side of the phone, mimicking what he had seen them do earlier.

The screen comes to life in a similar way the computer's did. "Hey!" He laughs and hold the phone up in their direction with pride. "A master gunman and a genius. Who knew?” But his friend is too engrossed in whatever they're looking at to notice, and Vash is disappointed when they don't acknowledge his handiwork. His disappointment is quickly replaced with curiosity when he sees the phone's screen. The background is a picture of the stranger and someone else, bringing their hands together to form a heart. He touches the photo, only to be surprised that it responds to his fingers. It's so interesting how this tech is so similar and yet so different from what he’s familiar with.

He slides up on the screen and the home page comes into view, revealing more neat little squares organized into rows. He taps a few of them, surprised to learn that each one is it's own program. One of the last ones he taps opens a program that is rows and rows of photos, photos he knows he probably shouldn't look at without permission, but he's too curious and they're not paying attention. He glances at them, and with a mischievous grin he decides it's fair game if the thing didn't even have a passcode.

He looks through them carefully. A large portion of them are photos of an animal of some kind. It looks like a cat, a very fluffy cat with pointy ears, but he's sure it's not (later he learns from them that this is an animal known as a Pomeranian). Many of the photos are of them with other people, hugging, laughing, and sometimes posing together. His chest aches as he looks through the pictures; he hadn't really thought about how many people were missing them on Earth. Just how many people had they left behind? You're so far from home, he thinks, looking at their face in the dim light. He knows the feeling all too well.

He comes across a sequence of photos that, for some reason, stirs something deep within his chest. They are all photos of the stranger, candid photos of them somewhere surrounded by books. They're leaning over a few scattered journals and texts, a pen balanced gracefully in their hand. Their face is peaceful, almost bored. His heart stutters at that expression; he doubts he will ever see it in person.

The next few photos are taken immediately after, in which they realize their photo is being taken and they reach out for the camera, first with mock anger and then with unrestrained laughter. He looks at the one where they're laughing for a long time. They hadn't said much about their own life on Earth, cautiously sticking to broader subjects. Who were you? Who are these friends? What was your life like? Did you have someone special to you? Did you have someone you love? Suddenly, he wants to know all the details.

He puts his tools away and gets up, phone in hand. He sits across from them and gently taps the top of the computer screen to get their attention. Their head snaps up at him, and he can see in their eyes exactly how tired they are.

"Hey, I uh, I fixed this." He hands them the phone sheepishly. Their eyes light up as they take it from him, navigating the controls on the cracked screen with practiced motions. He watches them swipe through the photos he had just looked at, a mixture of relief and sadness plain on their face. He thinks, briefly, that with the right voltage he could probably manage to keep the small device running for a while…

His thoughts are interrupted when he feels arms wrap around his shoulders as his companion throws themselves at him, tightening their grip around his neck as they pull themselves into his lap for a clumsy hug.

"Thank you," they mumble into his neck, their voice hoarse. "I thought it was broken. You have no idea how much it means to me... I was worried I would forget what they all look like.”

This alone nearly breaks him, and he returns the hug, holding them tightly against him. He can feel their pain in the way they breathe—short, hitched breaths that shake their entire body. He lets them stay like that until they're done crying again, and they settle neatly into his lap, cradled between his legs like a child. They go back to looking through the photos before turning the device off entirely.

"I need to save the battery," they say. They look up at him with watery eyes and tear-stained cheeks, and he does his best not to break down crying himself. "Did you look?" Their voice is flat, as if they already know the answer.

He's knows he's not in trouble, but he still feels like a child caught in a lie. "I saw a few of the photographs. You have a lot of friends. It looks like you were always having fun with them.” He's smiling, but he can't mask the sadness in his voice. They smile at this and look at their own reflection in the blank screen.

"Yeah, I guess... I did." They lean their side into his chest, curling up against him. “They’re not my friends anymore, though. I don’t have any friends now.”

"You still have friends, they're still your friends," he says softly, gently taking the phone from their hands and placing it with the computer. He’s quiet for a moment. “I’ll be your friend. Your first friend on No Man’s Land. Then you won’t have to be alone. Okay?”

They sniffle and smile weakly. “Thanks, Vash. I’m glad it was you who found me.”

He watches their face as they close their eyes, exhausted. They look so much smaller than before, and he has a hard time believing he ever doubted they were innocent.

He takes in their features in the soft light of the fire, memorizing the shape of their nose, their eyes, everything. He knows what it's like to lose your home, to find yourself stranded on a strange planet. He knows what it's like to have to leave the people you love behind. And what’s worse, it seems like they left behind a happy life, where people really loved them. He looks at them and he feels… Responsibility? Pity? He can’t pin down the feeling, but he knows that he wants to protect them. He worries that this experience will hurt them beyond repair, in the same way he hurts now. He’ll do whatever it takes to keep that from happening.

Once he knows for sure they're asleep he picks them up gently and places them under his jacket near the fire. They groan a little, then curl up, pulling the jacket around them. Cute, he thinks.

He gets up and moves to the other side of the fire, watching it for a while.

And then he allows himself a moment to break. Fresh tears roll down his face as he remembers everything--every moment, in detail. He wonders, as he does often, if this is a curse. A life doomed to losing everything and remembering everything. He finds small fragments of comfort in his memories of Rem, in the kind people he's met, the children he's played with. And now, in his strange new companion who fell from the sky.

After a while he settles down near them, close enough that he can see the details of their face in the firelight. He thinks about their stories of Earth, the sound of their laugh. The photos.

He doesn't sleep.

*** You wake up to the sound of metal clinking together. The soft light of the rising suns is not yet hot enough to make you sweat. You sit up, groggy and still sore, but in better shape than you were the day before.

Vash is sitting three paces away, dismantling his gun and cleaning each part with care. You watch as his hands delicately move the pieces under a cloth.

“Well, well, look who's up. Good morning, sleepyhead.” He has his usual disarming smile. You almost forgot how beautiful he is. You grumble at him and flop back down, pulling his jacket over your head. You hear him chuckle at this. “Not a morning person, are you?”

You answer with another groan. You’re still not used to seeing him, here in the flesh, and you’re embarrassed about what happened last night. He’s seen you cry twice now. And you even sat in his lap. Your face grows hot at the memory and you take a moment to sit under his jacket and compose yourself. It doesn’t help that the coat smells exactly like him.

Last night you were able to read about half of what you had left of the fan fiction before you were interrupted by Vash. As the story goes, he will be in Octovern soon, where he’ll run into Wolfwood earlier than he expected. The two of them fight off a group of mercenaries that are terrorizing one of the local taverns in search of information on… something not really specified by the writer. The important part is that Wolfwood is injured, and Vash blames himself, then tends to his wounds, and…

Your heartbeat picks up as you recall Vash and Wolfwood spending an intimate night together in a room with only one bed. It’s cliché, sure, but it never gets old. The writer didn’t spare any details, either. Thinking about it makes you tense up, and you feel warmth in the pit of your stomach. Get a grip, you think, you’ve read a dozen of fics of them together. The problem is, none of them have ever come true. You’re scared to even look at Vash, worried that you’ll start thinking about it. Come on, you’re an adult. Behave like one.

Either way, you now know the name of the tavern, and that you’ll be seeing Wolfwood soon. The thought of meeting him makes you nervous, like you’re about to meet a celebrity. Which, in your case, is sort of true. You are a little worried that you’ll become a third wheel, and wonder if you should try to stay out of the way to maintain the plot. You’ll decide later, when you’re in the city.

Finally, you gather the courage to sit up again, just as Vash begins to clean up his equipment. He notices you and smiles again. “Did you sleep okay?”

You look at him and your face gets red immediately. What happened to behaving like an adult? “Yeah, thank you for lending me your coat.” You hand it back to him with some reluctance, hopeful that he doesn’t notice the blush on your face.

“I’m happy to help,” he beams, slipping his arms into the sleeves and fastening the protective plate back onto his left arm. You feel a little disappointed that you can’t see that tight-fitting turtleneck anymore.

You turn your attention to your laptop. When you flip it open, you find that you drained the battery while reading last night. You’re not surprised in the slightest. “It’s dead,” you say nonchalantly.

Vash looks concerned. “Did it break?”

“No, it’s just run out of battery. I have a cable for it,” you say, pulling it out of your backpack. “But it’s going to need electricity. I doubt you guys have any adapters for American plugs here,” you say with a laugh. Vash gives you a puzzled look. “Ah… never mind.”

“We can find a way to charge it, it should be pretty easy when we get to Octovern.” He looks at you with your laptop in your hands as though he wants to say something.

“What is it?”

He realizes he's staring and looks away. “Sorry, it’s nothing. We should probably eat something.” He walks over to his bag and pulls out a few rations. They look sort of like candy bars. “I usually only carry meal bars when I’m traveling. Perishable things don’t do well in the heat,” he says, handing one to you. “It’s enough for one meal, which should be enough to hold us over until we get there.”

You take it, your eyes wide in awe. You flip the small bar over in your hand, looking for the nutrition information out of habit. So cool, you think. I’ll finally know what this tastes like.

Vash is watching your face as you study the bar, peeling the wrapper off his own. He laughs. “You look like I just handed you a priceless artifact.”

Your face flushes a little. “Well, to me it is. I never thought I would get to try one of these.” You tear the package open carefully and bite off the corner of the small, pinkish bar. It tastes like styrofoam. “Ew.”

Vash laughs again. “Sorry, it’s not very good.”

You eat the rest without complaining, washing it down with a bit of water. You put the wrapper inside your backpack for safe-keeping. If you do ever get home, you’ll want to show your friends every little bit of your adventure. Vash watches you do this with an amused look on his face, but he doesn’t tease you further.

“Okay,” Vash says, standing and dusting off his pants. “Are you ready to go?”

“Yeah,” you say, shoving your belongings into your backpack. “How long will it take for us to walk there?”

“Oh, probably only about… three or four hours?” Vash says casually. “We’re pretty close.”

You try not to look too upset about the idea of walking that long through the desert. It isn’t hot yet, but it will be soon. You wish you had worn more comfortable shoes. If only you knew you'd be dying yesterday.

Vash notices you look at your feet. “If you get tired or your feet hurt, just let me know. I’ll carry you.”

He’s doing this on purpose, you think. “I’ll probably be fine. I walk all the time.”

You follow Vash into the great expanse of sand, determined to get there without a complaint. Your determination runs out after about two hours of walking. Walking on pavement or on a hike is one thing; walking on sand for hours is exhausting. The heat from the suns isn’t helping.

Vash notices you grow quiet as your pace begins to slow down. “You okay?” He stops to look at you.

“I’m… fine…” you pant. “I think… I need to sit down.”

Vash doesn’t hesitate to take your backpack from you and sling it over his chest. He positions his own bag so it hangs off his prosthetic arm and kneels down, his back facing you. “Come on,” he says. “You’re probably not used to the desert. I can’t have you passing out on me again.”

You aren’t in a position to argue. Feeling ashamed at your neediness, you climb onto his back. He hoists you up, careful not to jostle you too much. Much to your relief, he seems entirely unaffected by the extra weight.

He smells faintly of gun oil, a smell you’re beginning to find comforting. You let yourself lean into the back of his neck and close your eyes. He hums a little to pass the time, and you can feel the vibrations from his voice. You think you might be getting used to being around him, although you’re positive he can feel your slightly elevated heartbeat through his back. You hope you can blame it on heat exhaustion.

“What were your friends like?” Vash asks out of nowhere. His tone is soft.

This takes you by surprise. “Uh…”

“You don’t have to tell me,” Vash says quickly. “I’m just… curious about what your life was like on Earth. I mean, you told me a lot about Earth, but you didn’t tell me much about yourself.”

His interest in you makes you feel shy, and you’re glad he can’t see your face. You tell him about your friends, about your family, your job. It feels a little silly to talk about your comparatively easy life on Earth, knowing what he’s been through. But as you talk you can tell he’s hanging on to your every word. He sometimes asks follow-up questions, but mostly he listens intently.

He’s quiet for a while after you finish.

“I’m a little jealous,” he laughs softly. His tone strikes you with guilt, but he keeps talking. “Not in a bad way. I’m glad you’ve had such a peaceful life so far. It must be why you’re such a good person.”

You bury your face in his neck and say nothing.

“Earth sounds amazing, even with its flaws. I hope No Man’s Land is like that someday. I’m going to do my best to make it that way.”

“I think you will,” you say. “I mean, the book never said if you do or not. I just think that you will. If anyone can, it’s you.”

He laughs. “Thanks, but I won’t be able to do it without everyone’s help. I can be pretty useless on my own. The only reason I’m even still alive is because others always help me out.”

How can someone be so arrogant and so modest all at once, you think, chuckling softly.

“That’s true. You’re a walking disaster,” you say, pressing a finger into his cheek.

“Hey! Only I get to make fun of me,” he laughs, and it’s bright and warm. “I supposed you know me better than, well, almost anyone.”

Oh, that’s definitely not true, you think. “In No Man’s Land, maybe.” You pause. “But it also feels like you’re… somewhere hard to reach. It’s hard to explain. I know a lot of things about you, but you’re a stranger to me, and it feels like it will always be that way.”

You’re worried you were too honest with that last part, but he hums thoughtfully.

“We probably won’t ever be able to fully understand each other; it’s always like that. I know I’m a plant, and I’ll always be strange to you. The only person who knows what it’s like to be a plant is Knives.”

You can feel him holding back. You know that he is trying to tell you that he is dangerous, far more dangerous than you can imagine; that he has powers even he doesn’t understand. You know this is a younger Vash, one from before… everything. But you think about what he said during the Fifth Moon incident. Maybe we should never have been born. Your heart squeezes painfully in your chest.

“You know a lot about me, though. More than any other human I’ve met. So,” he adjusts you on his back. “I don’t think we’ll always be strangers.”

You smile into his neck. “Yeah, I guess.” What about Wolfwood, you think. But it’s not the same. They’re partners, something beyond lovers, sharing the kind of bond you can only share when you go through hell with someone. You won’t take that from him. You’d never want to take that from him.

You think of the couch and quickly push Wolfwood out of your mind. You don’t want to think about that right now.

Vash carries you on his back for a while longer, and you tell him more details about Earth. In exchange, he tells you things about No Man’s Land. He talks about how the days are a similar length to yours, how the planet takes less time to travel around the suns so they have to measure the years in days, not orbits. You tell him about American units of measurement, and the idea of measuring things in ‘feet’ makes him laugh. You keep the topics light, exchanging the mundane parts of your lives.

You begin to see the city in the distance about three hours into your trip. You insist that Vash put you down for the rest of the way, too embarrassed to be carried into the city. Still, he asks you several more times on your way there if you’re okay.

When you arrive, you’re surprised to see how normal it looks. There are homes and shops, children running and playing in the streets. In the distance you can see what you assume is the tower housing the city’s plants.

Vash buys you each a surprisingly normal looking sandwich, and you eat while you walk.

“I think we might want to get you some new shoes,” Vash says, looking down at your feet. You can’t argue with him, and silently wonder how Wolfwood is running around in loafers.

You find a pair of sturdy black boots that have a bit of a platform, and Vash manages to haggle the price down to something reasonable. As you focus on lacing them up, you feel something wrap around your shoulders. You look up to find that Vash is knelt down and reaching around you.

It’s a cropped jacket with a hood, made in your favorite color. It’s clean and new, and looks well-made. You look at Vash, your eyes wide. “The boots were already enough, I can’t accept this…”

He chuckles softly at your expression. “It’s not much, but it will help keep you out of the sun. Think of it as a welcome gift. Plus I couldn’t help it when I saw the color.”

Warmth blooms in your chest as you slip your arms into the sleeves. Somehow he guessed your measurements, because it fits perfectly. The material is soft but durable.

Just as you are about to thank him, you hear gunshots ring out from down the street. You and Vash exchange worried looks before taking off in the direction of the shots.

You come to the tavern just in time to find three mercenaries brandishing their guns. Vash puts a protective arm up in front of you instinctively.

Across from the mercenaries, standing in front of the cowering patrons, is a single man. His shoulders are broad, and his eyes are shaded by a pair of dark frames.

He is holding a massive cross under his right arm.

He looks in your direction when you enter, and his mouth cracks into a wry smile.

“Well, well. Fancy meeting you here, needle-noggin.”

#trigun #trigun stampede #trigun fic #trigun fanfiction #vash the stampede #vash x you #vash x reader #vash fanfic

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ellisnyeland · 4 months

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I can't believe this call for submissions caps the word count at 2500 words! I can't work under these conditions! It's impossible to write a story that short! (<- conveniently forgetting that one of my published stories is under 2000 words)

#op #submission process #story: thirteen dancing princesses #story: the last repair tech

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papermint-airplane · 3 months

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List 5 facts about a favorite sim of yours, and send this to simblrs whose sims you adore 💜

Omg yesssssssssss thank you for tagging me Ana! I love the shit out of these!!!! I did Aiden last time so I'm gonna do Roman this time!

Roman and his sister Rio are Ichthyans. They're amphibious aliens from a distant planet that was (allegedly) created by an elder god. The jury is still out on whether or not that's true, but there's some evidence to support it, namely that every single Ichthyan is cursed. Their eyes glow at night and distorted whispers emanate from the eye sockets. Aside from that, they're totally normal. Toootally normal. There's definitely not another aspect of their cursed nature that could show up later in the story. *cough* Anyway, Ichthyans spend the first few years of their life in water before growing legs and lungs and spending the rest of their lives on land, like frogs and salamanders! They have more of a fish-like appearance with their scales, though.

Roman's favorite color is black, which is reflected in his wardrobe. He also likes leather, corset lacing on every piece of clothing possible, and chains. It's not really that surprising considering everyone on his cursed home planet embraces alternative fashion. It may or may not resemble a Hot Topic circa 2006. It may or may not be a Hot Topic circa 2006.

Roman is extremely protective of his little sister. He has broken off relationships because the guy he was into was mean to her. That's just how it goes with him. You look at Rio sideways, you're gone. Other than that...that's basically Roman's only relationship criteria. You can get away with a lot as long as you're nice to Rio.

He's hot. You know it, I know it, everyone knows it. And yet, he still has surprisingly low self-esteem. He covers it well but it comes out sometimes. Maybe it stems from the complicated relationship he has with his absentee mother.

He's not the tech genius in the family but he is a domestic GOD! He can cook like a Michelin star chef, repair pretty much anything around the house, keep everything as sparkling and spotless as it can be in rust-filled Woeford, and suck the chrome off a trailer hitch. He is perfect househusband material.

#ask #answer #ask meme #ask game #just simblr things #sims 3 #5 facts

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freesia-writes · 9 months

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Chapter 5: Insight

During the Clone Wars, the Bad Batch is tasked with a variety of missions across the galaxy. An unexpected addition to their team throws a wrench in the mix, particularly for Tech, who finds a particular connection with this disillusioned Padawan-turned-mechanic named Vel throughout the events in this action-adventure romance.

COVER ART BY @zaana!! And this was my first fanfic ever, y'all! :D

Master List of Chapters

Another mission, another risky departure. This time, the hyperdrive wasn't working, and as a last resort, Tech asked Vel for help. Once again, she came through, in another impossible situation. The team was amazed at her mechanical knowledge. As soon as they had a break between missions, though, they had their orders to drop her off. But she had so much knowledge. All mechanical, delivered dryly and peppered with laments about her now-useless status to both the Bounty Hunter's Guild and the Jedi Order. After much deliberation, the team asked her to stay, as a ship mechanic, until she decided where she wanted to go.

At this point, it had been long enough that she agreed, having grown accustomed to the ship's little nuances and quirks. But it came with one stipulation: she wasn't to be a prisoner anymore. She had no reason to turn against them and she was grateful for their help, though still hopelessly jaded about her future and resentful about her past.

She fashioned some makeshift quarters in the hold, still dark but better than bars and a stark cell. She had no personal items except a pouch with some credits, a basic medpack, and the multi-use weapon that Crosshair had relieved her of upon her capture, which wasn't returned to her just yet. The ship was under constant need of repair or maintenance, so she worked frequently alongside Tech, as well as the others, depending on what was needed. She was quiet and efficient, grateful for the lack of conversation when she assisted Hunter or Crosshair and chagrined at the constant questions and thoughts that accompanied any project with Wrecker.

Tech, however, was hard to discern. He spoke factually -- only when needed and immediately applicable. He did sometimes tend to explain a single topic in far too much detail, but she found it preferable to any questions or conversation directed at her, so she didn't make any effort to stop it. She found her interests piqued at his different approaches to certain processes, and they both shared an endless curiosity for the various intricacies of the galaxy.

They spoke of past missions, of their childhoods and experiences. Vel divulged bits and pieces here and there, and Tech began constructing a mental map of her story. Born on a lush forest planet, she was taken to the Jedi temple as a youngling when her Force abilities had surfaced, but throughout the Padawan training, it became painfully apparent that she was insufficient.

"Diplomatically dismissed," Vel said, rolling her eyes and waving the spanner in front of her, "Although I'd just call it what it is -- I wasn't good enough."

Tech remained silent, considering the ramifications. He was lying flat underneath a control panel, welding some rough edges while she rerouted the wires to avoid damaging them. "I went back to my dad, but he had moved to Corellia," she continued. "He tried to hide his disappointment, but it was apparent. So he thought he could make me the best mechanic in the shipyard instead. He hired me out as an apprentice to every specialist he could find. I worked during the day and studied in the evenings." "It sounds quite intensive," Tech responded, momentarily pausing from the flying sparks in front of him. "He was trying to do whatever he could to make me useful," Vel answered, her voice tight to conceal the deep pain. Tech remained silent, keeping his thoughts to himself, partially due to the emotional precision required and partially due to the discomfort of the situation. He lifted the face shield to rest atop his head, patiently awaiting any further revelation.

"Anyway," Vel continued, clearing her throat and regaining an air of carelessness, "It was never enough. I made him so much money, got him known throughout the system for ship modifications, but I made one small mistake on a Techno Union transport, and he kicked me out."

She shared the story factually, as if it meant nothing to her, but the constriction in her throat was unmistakable. "His own daughter -- imagine that," she said, returning to her work with a clenched jaw.

Tech felt deeply unsettled, not having much training on this sort of situation. He racked his brain, searching through the literature and studies he had consumed regarding human interaction and family dynamics before settling on his best attempt at encouragement: "The hardcell-class interstellar transport was a notoriously unique model, especially since it did not use conventional repulsorlifts for flight but opted for--"

"--rocket propulsion for atmospheric and stellar travel," Vel interrupted, "I know... Now."

"Ah," was his only response. He regarded her for a moment, and considered returning to his welding, but felt a compulsion to try again. He considered what she had shared, noting her body language, and decided on a different approach.

"I am sorry that your father failed to exhibit the loyalty one would traditionally expect from a birth parent," Tech said. "I would posit that it had more to do with his own ethical shortcomings than your perceived incompetence. If I had been born in the traditional human method, I would likely feel similarly disenfranchised by a lack of a secure attachment."

Vel didn't expect to laugh at this, but a chuckle burst out nonetheless. First of all, she had never expected to be sharing her aches and pains with a random clone engineer, and second of all, she had never guessed she would be comforted by a factual analysis of her developmental psychology.

She looked at him, staring solemnly right back at her without a trace of sarcasm or judgment, and couldn't help but smile. "I don't even know what to say to that," she said.

"No response needed," Tech responded matter-of-factly, pulling his face shield back down and returning to his work. Sparks began to fly again, and not just in the literal way this time, yaknowwhaddimean? ;)

Tag List: @merkitty49 @vimse @arctrooper69 @dystopicjumpsuit @starrylothcat @ghostperson69 @dreamie411 @savebytheodoresnonjosestuff (If you're on my regular tag list, let me know if you want to be tagged in this; I didn't want to spam ya!)

Click here to join or leave the tag list. <3

#the bad batch #tbb #star wars fanfiction #the bad batch fanart #bad batch #star wars the bad batch #the bad batch fanfiction #tech fanfiction #tech romance #tech x oc #slow burn romance #tech #tech bad batch #tbb tech

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dysthanasia-series · 3 months

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Story (Re)Intro

Title: Apophenia

Genre(s): Urban fantasy, paranormal fantasy, vampires, near-future,

Summary:

Mermaids don't exist. Every agent of the Coven, the organization that researches and governs the supernatural community, knows that. Accepting a classified assignment to investigate sightings along the Broken Coast is just an easy paycheck as far as Isaac Soto is concerned (not to mention another way to avoid dealing with his trauma and relationship issues).

A chance meeting with a charming stranger in a roadside diner changes not only the course of Isaac's assignment but the trajectory of his life. A life now in danger of being cut short unless he figures out how to escape the bloodborn who takes him hostage, a necromancer out to kill both of them, and the corruption at the heart of the organization he thought he believed in.

Apophenia is the introduction to Dysthanasia, a series that follows a cast of human and supernatural characters as they navigate a post-climate apocalypse Earth, fight against (or with) various factions vying for control, and find peril, solidarity, love, redemption, and purpose along the way. Discover what the world became and meet those who will determine what it might yet be.

Taglist Sign-Up (or just ask to be +/-)

Dysthanasia Taglist: @thecyrulik @k--havok @thatndginger @space-writes

Full first chapter under the cut

Words: 3,553

Content Advisory: Swearing, flirting, mentions of past bad breakups

Taking an assignment along the Broken Coast always got a reaction. Everyone from the archivist gathering relevant case materials to people not even in Isaac’s department eagerly volunteered a list of their deepest fears as soon as they heard where he was headed. Storms out that way were ten times as crazy—tornadoes, hurricanes, flash floods that could sweep away anything or anyone in their path. Then all the earthquakes left over from the break to boot? It was a miracle humans survived out there at all. The drive from Chicago alone was brutal, at least twenty-six hours, assuming the highways were in decent repair and smugglers hadn’t set up roadblocks to ambush travelers. No civic guards in the territories made it a wonderland for criminals plying their dark trades, from thieves to murderers. Any decent people that far outside a reliable grid scratched out an existence through hunting and gathering, their tech and habits straight from the paleolithic. The coast was as far from civilization as anybody could get without joining half of California under the Pacific.

So, Isaac had let out a sigh of relief when Director Khang told him this job was strictly classified. Not a word breathed to his colleagues or even archives—all the info he needed would be accessible from his tab. As great as the other agents in his department could be, salt of the earth really, Isaac preferred breathing space to work. Nevermind if that work was the Coven equivalent of a wild goose chase. He got paid per diem anyway.

He did have to admit his coworkers’ unsolicited past comments had one thing right. The drive to Nevada territory, while scenic at times, wore him out even when broken up over two days. He might’ve dragged the trip out to twice that long under normal circumstances. Stopped to buy roasted corn or a pie at the farms strung all across the Midlands, whether indoor or outdoor. Maybe taken a morning hike when he’d hit the Rockies and allowed himself to think of his dad, tía, and cousins where no one could see him break down. Director Khang, however, had made it clear that getting to the coast had urgent priority. Still, when he spotted a roadside rest stop with a little place to eat a couple of hours east of Sin Strip Beach, Isaac decided he’d earned a leg stretch and some breakfast.

Parking under the last row of solar panels, he patted his car on its hood, leaving handprints in the layer of dust there, then plugged it into the charging station. Eight other vehicles shared the lot even at three a.m. Mostly pickup trucks that had the rusty scars and mismatched parts of salvages, but there were a couple of humble sedans just like his mixed in. A breeze tousled his already messy curls but didn’t have the teeth to bite through his jacket. Under the smell of sun-baked earth and creosote, Isaac caught a whiff of sea brine. He squinted toward the western horizon. The glitter of stars remained unbroken until they met the gentle swelling silhouette of hills in the distance. No incoming clouds to warn that storm season was on its way, not yet. Roads and weather permitting, he’d reach the shark settlement in Eureka by mid-morning.

The rest stop had all its windows intact, metal storm shudders rolled up. Though a big terra cotta pot beside the entrance brimmed with gravel and cigarette butts, the walkway itself was swept clean. A little bell over the door tinkled to announce Isaac’s entrance. About a dozen pairs of eyes spared him a glance, but his old jeans and faded green flannel jacket sparked zero interest. Just another traveler passing through. He made a beeline for the narrow order window. No kiosk interface waited there, only a board on the wall listing menu items and a magpad to jot down the ones he wanted. The chilaquiles plate was crossed out, which was a shame. Isaac settled on a waffle, huevos con nopales, and coffee. He pushed the magpad and a credit charge chit through the order slot, nodded at the kitchen staff behind the glass, then snagged the only remaining table, conveniently beside a window.

Isaac pulled his tab from his jacket pocket and checked the outer screen. Two message notifications greeted him. The same two he’d been putting off replying to for a month. Jonah, ever patient, hadn’t added anything since sending his initial one, of course. The number of unread replies on Elfy’s, however, had ticked up, making for a grand total of fourteen. A long string of attempts to reach out, starting at hey, how’ve you been, morphing into I’m worried about you, and winding up around don’t make me hunt you down, prick.

He'd answer soon. The moment he finished his assignment he’d get back to her, to both of them. A week, at max. Elfy would let him have it for keeping her in the dark for so long, but then they’d make plans to grab drinks and catch up once he returned home. Jonah would joke about Isaac training to become a hermit before telling him all about his weird adventures in the northwest territories, tracking down tales of dire wolves and Bigfoot. Maybe Isaac would even get an assignment out that way so they could see each other outside of the Coven’s winter solstice party for once. Nevermind how awkward the visit might be at first because of Isaac’s drunken decision making at the last one.

Promises made, Isaac flipped his tab open to use the full inner screen. He tapped the file application and scrolled through until he found the assignment info Director Khang had sent him. He’d skimmed the basic objectives between rushing to pack for the sudden trip, so he took his time looking them over again. Sightings off Broken Coast. Integrated wereshark community in Nevada territory headed by Hart, Lawrence M. Verify eyewitness testimony. Coordinate search efforts and data collection. Isaac continued down to the attached transcription of statements. He kept them on one side of the screen while making notes on the other.

Multiple unidentified creatures had been encountered along the shoreline as well as in open ocean, both near the surface and as deep as a thousand meters. Anthropoid from the midsection up—arms, hands, shoulders, rounded head. Below the belt, however…caudal fins or flukes. Tentacles. Even a spiny carapace equipped with four or maybe six segmented legs in one case. If the reports had come only from humans in the community, Isaac wouldn’t have bothered to accept the assignment, per diem or no. It wasn’t like drunk people seeing mermaids while they were out fishing was a first. The fact that the bulk of the details came from three weresharks, though…well.

We couldn’t smell any plastic or rubber o algo así, claimed Tecla Santana Machado, speaking for both herself and the spirit of the great white shark bound to her soul. Didn’t smell like any prey we knew either. Se nos cayeron los chones cuando lo vimos. Scared the hell out of us tambièn.

One second it was there, and the next it kind of, like, I dunno, flickered? And then it would show up somewhere else. From Anaru Shortland, a thresher. We could sense the little pins and needles coming off it when we saw it. The, you know, like, electricity. When it disappeared or, or teleported or whatever it was doing, it felt more like a current. Just water pressure swirling around.

Isaac had formed a couple of hypotheses by the time the order bell announced his food was waiting on the pickup counter. First, that someone had figured out how to bind new types of animal spirits. While the Coven only had records of success with big cats, wolves, seven species of sharks, alligators, crocodiles, and bears (though not since the sixteenth century) that didn’t mean people weren’t experimenting. Isaac scowled while drizzling salsa over his eggs. He refused to congratulate anyone for butchering wildlife just because they didn’t like the species of spirit being handed down from their elders, or they wanted to stand out. Turning the culprit(s) in wouldn’t necessarily fix the problem either. The Coven might prosecute them, but once word got out that another kind of transformation had been discovered it would inspire other careless people to replicate the results. Not such a simple assignment, after all. Then again, the werecreatures Isaac had become familiar with preferred to enforce their own codes of conduct. It wouldn’t be the first time he’d studiously buried his head in busywork while the community beat a greater sense of responsibility into a troublemaker. He added inquire about local customs to his list of notes.

The second, more optimistic explanation for the whole situation involved forms of sorcery or witchcraft above his paygrade. Illusion or summoning or other stuff that involved drawing intricate chalk diagrams under a certain phase of the moon. In which case, he’d gladly report what was happening and let the higher-ups bicker amongst themselves about whether the werecreature or magic department held higher jurisdiction.

Headlights pierced the night outside and slashed across Isaac’s vision. He shielded his face with one hand, peering through his fingers. A sleek black sedan with official-looking plates whipped around a corner of the parking lot, looking for a space. His heartbeat gave an arrhythmic jump and kicked into a faster pace. Corporate farm or railway reps never made a night more relaxing. Highway bandits and smugglers at least had the decency to let people go about their business after a modest bribe. Isaac slouched farther into his seat and noted all exits.

A lone, slim figure wove its way through the parked cars from the back of the lot. Isaac allowed himself to breathe a tad easier. Company shitheads were always at their most dangerous in packs. The light filtering out from the diner illuminated the newcomer as they approached. No suit, although there was a white button-down shirt beneath their close-fitting athletic jacket. Isaac’s hand clenched around his knee when he caught a nocturnal-green flash reflected from their eyes. Or…no. No, they were just a light color. Perfectly natural, if remarkable. He relaxed and stopped pressing against the window to stare. Straightening up, he tried his best to fake nonchalance.

Every gaze in the diner locked onto the owner of the fancy black car as soon as they were through the door. Rather than shrivel up and wither into dust, they offered a smile, complete with dimples, that could’ve been brought home to even the most skeptical parents. They gave a shallow yet sweeping bow to the room in general before strolling straight up to the order window. The click of dress shoes against the tile floor sounded loud enough to carry for miles into the surrounding hills.

The newcomer paid no further mind to their audience as they put in a quick order and received a steaming coffee mug in return. Turning from the little window, they scanned the room for a spot to sit. A collective shift of unease rolled through the crowd. Isaac’s blood pressure doubled when the stranger’s eyes—a startling shade of blue-green like a tropical sea—settled on him. He considered bolting as they made a beeline for his table. Which was both silly and stupid, given it would only draw more attention. So, instead, Isaac grit his teeth and resigned himself to a bit of unplanned social interaction.

“Olá, tudo bem?” The stranger motioned to the chair across from him. “Posso me sentar aqui?”

Portuguese, judging from the way some of the words formed through their nasal passages and others got half-swallowed in their throat, but Isaac understood enough. “No hay bronca,” he mumbled.

That did the trick. The stranger sat and gazed out the window, hands wrapped around the mug but not sipping from it. One by one, wary stares glazed over with indifference and disengaged. Isaac’s returned to his plate. Mostly. Between bites he snuck peeks at his uninvited guest. Smooth brown skin a couple shades lighter and warmer than Isaac’s own. No ink, no mods, no scars or lines on face, neck, or hands. Early to mid twenties, though one could never be sure. People tended to place Isaac a few years over his actual age of twenty-nine—his grumpy attitude and habit of dressing like somebody’s abue threw them off, according to Elfy. Like Isaac’s hair, the stranger’s was black. Unlike his, it was combed and stylish, shorn close at the sides but left longer and tamely wavy on top. Even their brows didn’t have a strand out of place, thick and arched and providing a perfect frame for the unusual eyes that darted over and caught him.

Isaac choked a little on the piece of waffle in his mouth. He coughed and swallowed, a hasty apology loaded on his tongue. Too late. A dimple appeared along with the stranger’s smile.

“Você é local?”

He had enough social grace not to sigh. At least the rest of the place had resumed their own conversations so one more wouldn’t stand out. “No.”

“De onde você é? Você percorreu um longo caminho?”

“Eh…”

“Oh, desculpe! Você fala espanhol, não? How about English?”

“Sure.”

“I was asking you where you’re from. Sorry—the coast is the only place I get to speak Portuguese anymore, so I use it whenever I can.”

Coming from anyone less well-dressed, Isaac would’ve flagged the question as a prelude to robbery. Not that he had much worth stealing besides his tab and the pistol he’d left in his bag in the trunk. Well, they could swipe the six silver-tipped bullets the Coven had issued him in the side zipper pocket too. He’d tossed the rifle the rounds had come with into Lake Michigan years ago, though, so unless they had their own he didn’t see much of a point. Interesting conversation pieces maybe.

“I’m from Chicago,” said Isaac.

“And I thought I had a long trip!” A second dimple appeared to match the first. Combined with lips and a set of cheekbones won in the genetic lottery, it really wasn’t fair. “Ah, looks like I have to apologize again, this time for my manners. I’m Renato, he and him. A pleasure to meet you.”

Stomach fluttering like a restless bird, Isaac shook himself and then Renato’s hand. Elfy would skin him alive if she found out an attractive stranger had crossed his path and he didn’t even attempt friendliness. “Isaac, also he, him, his. So, um. I take it you’re not from the coast either?”

“Oh, no, though I travel up and down it for work sometimes. I just finished a job down in the Floodlands and am on my way up to another in Denver. No rest for the wicked, as they say.”

“What do you do?” Something illegal probably, but the ritual of small talk demanded he ask.

Up close, Renato’s eyes didn’t catch the light so much as glow faintly from within. “Security for a research organization. I’ll be escorting someone to a new project for a few weeks. Something about taking stock of the marine life in the area.”

“Like seeing how the fish population is doing, or looking for new species?” The files hadn’t mentioned witnesses not affiliated with the Coven, but that didn’t mean some uninitiated humans hadn’t caught sight of the mystery creatures too. Isaac suppressed a grimace. Being roped into helping with a coverup was always a serious pain in the ass. He didn’t look forward to planting half-rotted seal carcasses on the beach or whatever the higher ups deemed necessary to maintain secrecy.

Renato’s shoulders rolled in an elegant shrug. “Oh, I don’t know the details. I’m only the muscle after all.”

Compact muscle. Isaac was willing to bet they’d come to the same five and a half-ish feet if they both stood—he might even beat Renato by an inch if he stopped slouching so much. He looked down at the tan hands wrapped around the plain white coffee mug. Long fingers with short and manicured nails, prominent sinew under the skin, no nicks or bruises on the knuckles. Maybe he wore gloves when he punched people. Maybe he just carried a gun under that sporty jacket of his. Or, like Isaac, maybe he relied on negotiation instead of the skills he’d acquired on a shooting range (six months as required by Coven regulations for all researchers, plus blasting empty bottles or cans in a field for the fun of it sometimes). A face like Renato’s had to be a free pass to charm his way past a lot of obstacles.

“What brings you out to the western wilds, Isaac?”

“Well…something similar actually. I study big predators. Wolves and cougars mostly. Alligators once in a blue moon. I keep track of their movements and population sizes, births, deaths, habits, that sort of thing.” It was true in a general sense, even if the predators in question spent most of their days on two legs and paying the bills just like him.

“Que coincidência. Do you enjoy your job?”

“Mostly, yeah.” Nevermind that if not for the Coven—and Elfy, for that matter—he didn’t know how he would’ve made it through the past ten years. “I get to travel a lot, see tons of interesting places, expand my horizons and all that.” Rather than huddle on his sofa until he degenerated into a mat of depressed lichen.

“Doesn’t your sweetheart…or hearts…get lonely with you away that much?”

Tension knotted between Isaac’s shoulderblades, but he managed to keep his face neutral. “I don’t have any to worry about. Turns out having a partner who isn’t home for weeks or maybe months at a time is a big turnoff for most people.” It’d definitely been a dealbreaker for Jeremy, who’d come to believe the long absences and great pay meant Isaac was secretly a smuggler kingpin. A couple of years after their breakup, the absurdity almost outweighed the pain.

“True. Except my ex-girlfriend and I actually work for the same employer and used to do many of our jobs together. So…I don’t know what my excuse is exactly there. Things are going much better in my current relationship, though, so perhaps there’s hope for me yet.” With a gleam in his eye, Renato dipped a hand into his jacket and pulled out a tab. “Do you want to see a picture of my darling Tes?”

Isaac shrugged as much to loosen his muscles as to respond. After a bit of scrolling, Renato proudly turned the screen toward him. Isaac stared, glanced up at the man smirking at him, then returned to the picture again to make sure he wasn’t hallucinating.

“She’s beautiful,” he said with a snort. “Did you buy her a castle or a cave?”

“Please. Meu amor deserves only the best—I got them a castle and a treasure chest that blows bubbles to decorate their tank. And I have no idea if Tes is a girl, now that you mention it. I’ve never bothered to look up if you can tell that sort of thing with goldfish.”

“Either way, I’m sure your ex is seething with jealousy.”

“She should be. I won Tes as a prize at a carnival game for her the night we had our final breakup fight.”

“I think I get why your best relationship doesn’t involve another human.” Yet Isaac said it through lips twitching with the urge to smile.

Renato clutched his free hand over his heart. “Such cruelty and harsh judgement. You and my ex would get along great, I think.”

“Do you have her contact info? And is she still single?”

“Sadism. Pure and simple. I can’t—” A notification ping interrupted. Whatever Renato saw on his screen put a dent between his brows.

“Do you have to go?” The sinking sensation in Isaac’s middle caught him off guard.

“No, no. It can wait for a while.” His tab protested with another ping. “I’ve been driving nonstop since sundown, so I’m ahead of schedule. Besides, an interesting distraction came up.” Eyes never straying from Isaac, Renato held down the tab’s power button until it went dark, and slipped it back into his pocket.

A sudden storm of butterflies buoyed Isaac’s stomach and spirits. They also stirred up the old excuses he used whenever a new acquaintance showed interest in him. One by one, though, he swatted them down. Two years since Jeremy, almost five months since he’d behaved like an idiot with Jonah. He could let that stretch into three years…ten…twenty-five…an entire lifetime measured in loneliness.

Or.

He could take the first step toward rebuilding his crumbling personal life. If he made a leap of faith here and he landed in a huge pile of disappointment, well, so what? It wouldn’t be the first time, and he’d be driving up the interstate come morning regardless. If it went smoothly, he’d have an exciting story to share with Elfy as an extra peace offering over those drinks.

Allowing his smile to break containment, Isaac rested his chin in his hand and looked out the window. “Is your car as nice on the inside as it is on the outside?”

#urban fantasy #vampires #writeblr #wip intro

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