dreamspacing:

written bc sungmin calling the shots is the greatest thing

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suavebadass:

AU and non-powered oops sorry ALSO I DEEPLY APOLOGIZE FOR HOW LATE THIS IS ANON this is also unbeta’d if anyone finds spelling or grammar issues don’t hesitate to let me know!

untitled
Cherik
R/NC-17 
1,600+ words 

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AU and non-powered oops sorry ALSO I DEEPLY APOLOGIZE FOR HOW LATE THIS IS ANON this is also unbeta’d if anyone finds spelling or grammar issues don’t hesitate to let me know!

untitled
Cherik
R/NC-17 
1,600+ words 

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crocodilepatronus:

Fright Night

pairing: Michael Fassbender/James Mcavoy

warnings: vampires, blood, slash, RPF

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Submitted by my anon that’s dubbed themselves the Weyland Feels Specialist, and trust me when I say they live up to their name. This was sent via multiple asks but I was feeling lazy about printscreening so I just c/p’d it. Enjoy!

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David had always understood that he would outlive every one of his human counterparts. It had been an integral part of his initial programming: the understanding of human mortality, and why he was more or less exempt from it. He even understood the grieving process, how best to deal with humans experiencing loss, what social customs to follow in the event of death among his fellow Weyland employees. He had always assumed that was all the knowledge he required to deal with death

Then, people started dying. Upon reflection, he supposes that the events onboard the Prometheus were as good an introduction as any to death. He had understood the concept, but not the reality, and the Prometheus was very real. He learned that not all grief could be smoothed away by watching Dr. Shaw. He learned that grief could be rekindled when they returned to Earth and everything had to be relived “for the record”. After that, David stopped presuming, and simply watched.

He watched Dr. Shaw age, watched her remarry, write groundbreaking dissertations about her Engineers. He watched as the haunting look she picked up in space never left her eyes, not even on her deathbed. He watched the friends who’d sat by Elizabeth’s side die, one by one, and their children, and their children’s children. He watched as wars were begun, fought, and ended, both as an onlooker and a participant. He watched the world change without him. As it forgot him.

He still visits the memorial every decade or so. He remembers when it was dedicated, six months after their return to Earth. The crowds gathered to remember the first massively unsuccessful deep space mission. There were more, after. Worse in terms of body count. There were other memorials. But this one, now forgotten and clogged with weeds, with the names carved in marble wearing down more with every passing year because of the rain and the winds, is his.

After all, he was a member of the crew, too. That makes him the last surviving member of the Prometheus. Long after space travel becomes commonplace, as does members of his own kind (both more and less advanced than he). Long after Weyland Industries crumbles, and is forgotten. David remains, always the same, always alone. He spends his time traveling, now that it is his time to spend, sometimes in space but more often along the globe’s surface. Alone, with no home. 

There were other humans, of course, and other robots. Not as many as some might think, though. David always found it difficult to fully express himself to others. Not a flaw in his programming, but a preference he picked up from the humans. He wanted someone to understand him, not someone he had to explain himself to. He’s still waiting. He keeps moving, as well, because stillness always brings back the memories. He has never seriously considered deleting them. They’re too important. 

No one ever told him that the dead don’t truly die. Not for him. Although many religions teach it, it’s always to suggest that life goes on after death. David doesn’t believe in that, although Dr. Shaw did her best to explain the nature of her beliefs to him. No, life doesn’t continue, but that doesn’t mean the dead are gone. For him, they’re alive. Because David remembers them. He remembers all of them. He remembers everything. They exist, frozen in time, within David’s mind. Forever.

He doesn’t relish the fact. The memories bother him, because they are perfect, and do not reflect the reality of his life in the least. All he has to do is think, and he’s watching Dr. Shaw’s dreams again. Feeling Meredith’s hand against his face again. Listening to Weyland’s last breath again. But no matter how hard he tries, he can’t change it. Any of it. Ever. He has, at times, decided this constitutes a plausible definition of hell. And David, always and only David, is damned.

Submitted by my anon that’s dubbed themselves the Weyland Feels Specialist, and trust me when I say they live up to their name. This was sent via multiple asks but I was feeling lazy about printscreening so I just c/p’d it. Enjoy!

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David had always understood that he would outlive every one of his human counterparts. It had been an integral part of his initial programming: the understanding of human mortality, and why he was more or less exempt from it. He even understood the grieving process, how best to deal with humans experiencing loss, what social customs to follow in the event of death among his fellow Weyland employees. He had always assumed that was all the knowledge he required to deal with death

Then, people started dying. Upon reflection, he supposes that the events onboard the Prometheus were as good an introduction as any to death. He had understood the concept, but not the reality, and the Prometheus was very real. He learned that not all grief could be smoothed away by watching Dr. Shaw. He learned that grief could be rekindled when they returned to Earth and everything had to be relived “for the record”. After that, David stopped presuming, and simply watched.

He watched Dr. Shaw age, watched her remarry, write groundbreaking dissertations about her Engineers. He watched as the haunting look she picked up in space never left her eyes, not even on her deathbed. He watched the friends who’d sat by Elizabeth’s side die, one by one, and their children, and their children’s children. He watched as wars were begun, fought, and ended, both as an onlooker and a participant. He watched the world change without him. As it forgot him.

He still visits the memorial every decade or so. He remembers when it was dedicated, six months after their return to Earth. The crowds gathered to remember the first massively unsuccessful deep space mission. There were more, after. Worse in terms of body count. There were other memorials. But this one, now forgotten and clogged with weeds, with the names carved in marble wearing down more with every passing year because of the rain and the winds, is his.

After all, he was a member of the crew, too. That makes him the last surviving member of the Prometheus. Long after space travel becomes commonplace, as does members of his own kind (both more and less advanced than he). Long after Weyland Industries crumbles, and is forgotten. David remains, always the same, always alone. He spends his time traveling, now that it is his time to spend, sometimes in space but more often along the globe’s surface. Alone, with no home. 

There were other humans, of course, and other robots. Not as many as some might think, though. David always found it difficult to fully express himself to others. Not a flaw in his programming, but a preference he picked up from the humans. He wanted someone to understand him, not someone he had to explain himself to. He’s still waiting. He keeps moving, as well, because stillness always brings back the memories. He has never seriously considered deleting them. They’re too important. 

No one ever told him that the dead don’t truly die. Not for him. Although many religions teach it, it’s always to suggest that life goes on after death. David doesn’t believe in that, although Dr. Shaw did her best to explain the nature of her beliefs to him. No, life doesn’t continue, but that doesn’t mean the dead are gone. For him, they’re alive. Because David remembers them. He remembers all of them. He remembers everything. They exist, frozen in time, within David’s mind. Forever.

He doesn’t relish the fact. The memories bother him, because they are perfect, and do not reflect the reality of his life in the least. All he has to do is think, and he’s watching Dr. Shaw’s dreams again. Feeling Meredith’s hand against his face again. Listening to Weyland’s last breath again. But no matter how hard he tries, he can’t change it. Any of it. Ever. He has, at times, decided this constitutes a plausible definition of hell. And David, always and only David, is damned.

Pairing: James McAvoy/Michael Fassbender
Rating: NC17
Kinks: Corset kink hnnnnng
Summary: lbr, who doesn’t want to see Michael’s perfect waistline wrapped up in a corset? PWP, bottom!Michael
Notes: This is all Comp-Lady and Shayzgirl’s fault for being horrible enablers. With thanks to vice-x-verses for beta-ing and rohnoc and whimsical-ramblings for the wonderful manips.

Read it after the cut or you can read it on Ao3!

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Anonymous sent: how's that Michael/You fic coming along? :)

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Michael lays out, all long limbs and lean muscles, he puts his arms above his head (and they’re not tied or cuffed, they’re clutching the bed post because you told him to. In this room, your word is his law.) and spread out for you on the bed like this, he is beautiful. 

Settling yourself between his legs, you run your hands down the soft skin of his thighs, causing a tremor to go through him. You watch him adjust his grip on the headboard as his body tenses up, cock already half-hard just from following a few of your simple commands.

“Easy now. Easy.” you settle your hands on the v-line of his hips and rub little circles into the skin of his hip bones  to calm him. It’s been weeks since the both of you have been able to see each other, and you don’t want him to get too excited so early. 

“Look at me.”

He furrows his brow, as if he hadn’t been aware he has even closed his eyes, but he’s not used to this. Not used to being so open and on the other end of this type of admiration, even after all the times you two have done this before.

“Michael, look at me.”

He does, finally. Usually you would punish him for making you repeat yourself, but not today. You have something else in mind for this evening. Instead, you raise a hand to trace along the shell of his ear, down to his jaw and he leans into the touch, “Good boy.” you smile, “I bought something for you.” 

He looks at you curiously as you move from the bed to pick up a small bag. You tip the contents out—

“Oh my god.”

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OKAY THAT’S ALL YOU GET FOR NOW AHAHA

this was sent via multiple asks so I just decided to c/p it into one post. Bb, next time just submit it! All you have to do is log out of tumblr, then use a fake email (10 minute mail is a good one) to send in anything this long :D

that goes for my other anons as well :)

by my ~David Feels Anon~

While David’s face remains neutral, he does feel curiosity toward the strange human ritual. His research revealed that it was originally a religious celebration, but besides Shaw, David isn’t aware that any crew members are spiritual in any way. As they exchange gifts, they appear a little happier than in previous days. Well, perhaps not happier. He’s not sure exactly what it is, but they’re laughing and talking more than they have for the entire journey.

Not only that, but they’re talking and laughing about things that aren’t related to the mission. Their families, loved ones, the first Christmas they can remember. It’s odd to David, and very foreign. In all his ten years, neither Weyland nor Vickers mentioned anything to do with Christmas. Perhaps not all families celebrate it.

Holloway looks up at David and catches him observing them. David smiles peaceably. “You didn’t get any, huh?” Despite the seemingly innocent question, his voice holds nothing but spitefulness. “I’m afraid I do not have any use for gifts, Dr Holloway. I feel they would be wasted on me.” Holloway’s eyebrows lift a fraction. “You feel? I doubt it. Well, that’s too bad. Here.” The next moment, David catches something in his hand.

Holloway probably meant to catch him off guard, but David’s reflexes never falter. He looks down at his palm, and sees pack of batteries; his expression still impartial. When he looks back, Holloway is laughing and shaking his head. “Hey, man, it’s a joke. Lighten up. I sure as hell don’t need ‘em. It’s for your…circuits or whatever.” Again, he’s laughing. Curious. Why does he find this funny? Surely he knows David doesn’t run on batteries? Unless…ah. It is a joke at David’s expense.

He forces a smile. “Thank you, Dr Holloway. I appreciate the thought.” With that, David stands up and leaves Holloway’s smirking face behind him. Once he’s as far away from the room as possible, he tosses the batteries aside with more force than intended and slams his fist into the side of the wall.

He closes his eyes, and tries yet again to imagine what it must be like to feel, to be human, to be an equal. Of course, he doesn’t get any closer to knowing. But it must feel good. And if David could feel, knowing that he will never be able to feel that kind of bliss would be the most painful thing he had ever felt.

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Reblogging this again because FEELINGSSSSSSSS

this was sent via multiple asks so I just decided to c/p it into one post. Bb, next time just submit it! All you have to do is log out of tumblr, then use a fake email (10 minute mail is a good one) to send in anything this long :D

that goes for my other anons as well :)

by my ~David Feels Anon~

While David’s face remains neutral, he does feel curiosity toward the strange human ritual. His research revealed that it was originally a religious celebration, but besides Shaw, David isn’t aware that any crew members are spiritual in any way. As they exchange gifts, they appear a little happier than in previous days. Well, perhaps not happier. He’s not sure exactly what it is, but they’re laughing and talking more than they have for the entire journey.

Not only that, but they’re talking and laughing about things that aren’t related to the mission. Their families, loved ones, the first Christmas they can remember. It’s odd to David, and very foreign. In all his ten years, neither Weyland nor Vickers mentioned anything to do with Christmas. Perhaps not all families celebrate it.

Holloway looks up at David and catches him observing them. David smiles peaceably. “You didn’t get any, huh?” Despite the seemingly innocent question, his voice holds nothing but spitefulness. “I’m afraid I do not have any use for gifts, Dr Holloway. I feel they would be wasted on me.” Holloway’s eyebrows lift a fraction. “You feel? I doubt it. Well, that’s too bad. Here.” The next moment, David catches something in his hand.

Holloway probably meant to catch him off guard, but David’s reflexes never falter. He looks down at his palm, and sees pack of batteries; his expression still impartial. When he looks back, Holloway is laughing and shaking his head. “Hey, man, it’s a joke. Lighten up. I sure as hell don’t need ‘em. It’s for your…circuits or whatever.” Again, he’s laughing. Curious. Why does he find this funny? Surely he knows David doesn’t run on batteries? Unless…ah. It is a joke at David’s expense.

He forces a smile. “Thank you, Dr Holloway. I appreciate the thought.” With that, David stands up and leaves Holloway’s smirking face behind him. Once he’s as far away from the room as possible, he tosses the batteries aside with more force than intended and slams his fist into the side of the wall.

He closes his eyes, and tries yet again to imagine what it must be like to feel, to be human, to be an equal. Of course, he doesn’t get any closer to knowing. But it must feel good. And if David could feel, knowing that he will never be able to feel that kind of bliss would be the most painful thing he had ever felt.

submitted by Anonymous

You walk into the dressing room only to find that there’s someone else already occupying it. “Close the door!” A panicked male voice tells you. Closing it behind you, you find yourself staring directly at Michael. “Well,” he said, giving a low chuckle that you swear makes your bones vibrate, “I didn’t mean for you to join me. But now that you’re in here, maybe you can give me your opinion.” 

You look down, blushing fiercely when you realize Michael’s wearing nothing but a Speedo that leaves nothing to the imagination. “Oh, god. I’m so sorry,” you say, covering your eyes with your hands. He laughs again, and you feel his hands encircle your wrists. He tugs on them, trying to pry your hands away from your face, but you resist him. “Let go, you idiot, so I can leave.”

“Not until I have your opinion,” he repeats, his hands still on your wrists. You can feel the heat from his body as he crowds you against the door. Leaning against it, you finally let Michael see your face, but you refuse to open your eyes. When he speaks, his voice is dangerously close to your ear, and his hands slide down from your wrists, only to twine his fingers through yours. “Come on, just a little peek. I won’t tell if you don’t.”

Opening your eyes, you find Michael staring intently down at you. He’s taller than you, something that you never fully appreciated until this moment. You swallow, and his gaze flickers to your throat. It’s enough to make your knees weaken. Part of you curses your body for betraying you so easily. You force yourself not to look away from him. “What do you need my opinion on?” 

Lowering his head, his lips brush against yours, and it’s like he’s trying to kill you with the way his lips move against yours, his teeth gently nibbling on your lower lip. Your eyes close, and when you gasp, the tip of his tongue darts out to brush against yours. Before you can properly respond, he pulls away, resting his forehead against yours. The kiss lasted all of seconds, but it leaves you shaken. “You know,” he says, clearing his throat, tightening his grip on your hands, “I can’t say I remember.”

suavebadass:

crocodilepatronus:

Shame/Prometheus crossover

warning: slash for mature readers

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SCREECHES @ DAT PAIRING OMG YES

reblogging this again because of reasons

laughingalonewithrvb:

she got five years older (no consequence, her beauty is timeless, you think) and you remained the same

but you found nothing in space

what a bitter, empty feeling

you think she cried when all your directions took you and her to was a dead planet, long evacuated, silent as gravestones

but she had fled from the room and you had not had the legs, at the time, to follow her

not that your programming knew how to handle comforting a human, anyway

she repaired you on the way back to earth - those long three years - and you offered her cryo, because three years seemed almost too much.

‘that’s too kind of you, david’ - but she refused, a glimmer of something iron-tasting - distrust - still filtering through the rich brown of her irises. 

docking at earth was something akin to a nightmare, and you remembered little - funny, for you, because you were built to remember everything. but things dissolved into a flurry of images, sounds, and smells. 

the only thing you truly remember was her voice, raised and furious, asking for something - pleading for it - pleading for you to be kept as a functional android - to not be shut down. shut down? why would weyland do that?, you had seen so much -

you think maybe she had post traumatic stress disorder, or the whole ordeal had completely messed something up inside her head - why would she want you, the pers- android who completely destroyed her life? 

maybe you didn’t listen hard enough.

soon enough, you and her were camped together in a small apartment perhaps not fully designed for two people (well, wait, there was only one in residence), and weyland was keeping an eye on the both of you twenty four seven, and months and months of interrogation went on and on and on until - until you were both blessedly free

to 

live, you suppose

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crocodilepatronus:

Shame/Prometheus crossover

warning: slash for mature readers

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SCREECHES @ DAT PAIRING OMG YES

suavebadass:

Finally got the fic I posted yesterday up on Ao3, with a proper title and everything \o/ I uh tagged this as best I could, haha.

Light James Mcavoy/David 8

Heavily inspired by this gorgeous fanart. Title from here.

Excerpt: 

“I could replace you with a thousand, a million other David 8’s, but none of them would be like you, David. Not a single one of them.” James doesn’t know how else to explain it, “I don’t want any other David’s, I want you.”