Stargate is a 1994 science fiction action-adventure film directed and co-written by Roland Emmerich. The film is the first entry in the Stargate media franchise and stars Kurt Russell, James Spader, Jaye Davidson, Alexis Cruz, Mili Avital, and Viveca Lindfors. The plot centers on the titular "Stargate", an ancient ring-shaped device that creates a wormhole, enabling travel to a similar device elsewhere in the universe. The central plot explores the theory of extraterrestrial beings having an influence upon human civilization.
Less than Zero is a 1987 American drama film directed by Marek Kanievska, loosely based on the 1985 novel of the same name by Bret Easton Ellis. The film stars Andrew McCarthy as Clay, a college freshman returning home for Christmas to spend time with his ex-girlfriend Blair (Jami Gertz) and his friend Julian (Robert Downey Jr.), both of whom have become drug addicts. The film presents a look at the culture of wealthy, decadent youth in Los Angeles.
Key Takeaways:
– James Spader recollects his time working with Robert Downey Jr. during ‘Less Than Zero'.
– The co-star noticed how Downey Jr.'s destructive lifestyle influenced his performance.
– Spader admired Downey Jr.'s turnaround when they next met on the set of Avengers: Age of Ultron.
Globally acclaimed actor Robert Downey Jr. is widely acknowledged for his phenomenal roles in the Hollywood film industry. Within his illustrious career, his portrayal of Tony Stark in the Marvel Cinematic Universe (MCU), starting with Iron Man, stands out. However, even successful journeys have challenging beginnings. For Robert Downey Jr., his journey was marred by a period of drug abuse and legal troubles.
James Spader, co-star of Robert Downey Jr. in the 1987 drama ‘Less Than Zero', recently shed some light on his experience working with Downey Jr. during these testing times. Spader elucidates upon the heartbreaking moment he observed Downey Jr., a talented actor, struggling with destructive habits on the set of ‘Less Than Zero'. His concern for his co-star was compounded by the character Downey Jr. played – an addict.
“I'm gonna go drain the snake,” Downey Jr. would often mumble to himself during filming, leaving his co-star and others on set perplexed.
Downey Jr.'s character in ‘Less Than Zero' is often viewed as a mirror reflection of the actor's tumultuous past, with real-life drug abuse issues being mirrored on-screen. An actor of Downey Jr.'s caliber and his involvement borderline signaled a cry for help that resonated with his audience. This deep connection between his life's challenges and his screen roles turned Downey Jr. into Hollywood's dark horse at that time.
Spader retold his experience about Downey Jr.'s deplorable state during the filming of ‘Less Than Zero', “I found him heartbreaking in ‘Less Than Zero,' and I found him heartbreaking at the time.”
RDJ's physical deterioration, evidenced by patches of dead skin, only made the situation look grim.
However, as they say, every cloud has a silver lining. Downey Jr. made a remarkable turnaround with his life and career. His subsequent meeting with Spader on the set of Avengers: Age of Ultron as a changed person would have been a proud moment for the Blacklist actor. His journey from self-destruction to being one of the biggest stars in Hollywood is nothing short of inspirational.
In the film, the Avengers fight Ultron (Spader)—an artificial intelligence created by Tony Stark (Downey) and Bruce Banner (Ruffalo)—who plans to bring about world peace by causing human extinction.
I don't need to say ONE WORD. The crap loads of Predictive Programming from just three projects says it all. I mean... besides milking it for more sympathy, why keep bringing up RDJ's past drug use? It's pretty humiliating, but also must have a purpose.
The mandate becomes clearer. You start your first day at the archive. Ghost shares information.
Chapter Eight // Chapter Ten
ao3 // main masterlist // dog with no teeth masterlist
United Nations Preservation of Humanity Charter (UN Mandate I)
Pillar I: Genetic Continuity: All citizens capable of reproduction must contribute to the gene pool unless medically exempt.
Pillar II: Historical Memory: Each Safe Zone and its civilians must preserve human history, language, and art, ensuring no generation forgets humanity’s origins.
Pillar III: Weapons Compact: All Safe Zones are forbidden from producing, obtaining, or trading weapons of mass destruction without prior UN Council approval. Military force may be used only under UN mandate to prevent genocide or extinction-level threats. The production or attainment of firearms, explosives, projectiles, blades, or any instrument of war by civilians is prohibited.
Pillar IV: Bioethics: Non-consensual testing on humans is prohibited. Artificial intelligence, cloning, and biotechnology is outlawed unless authorized by UN Council and must prioritize long-term human well-being.
Pillar V: Reintegration: No persons may be denied sanctuary in a Safe Zone on the basis of origin, gender, or religious belief. All survivors have the right to seek safety and sustenance.
Pillar VI: Equity of Resources: Vital resources, such as water, food, medicine, and power, must be shared across Safe Zones under UN allocation protocols, and redistributed in times of shortage.
Pillar VII: Rewilding: Each Safe Zone and the citizens therein must preserve or restore a percentage of surrounding ecosystems to maintain biodiversity and prevent ecological collapse.
Pillar VIII: Cultural Sovereignty: Safe Zones and the citizens therein retain cultural autonomy, as long as that autonomy does not propagate ideologies that promote extinction, discrimination, or historical erasure. Minority cultures, languages, and traditions must be legally protected.
Pillar IX: Equal Dignity: All individuals, regardless of origin, ethnicity, religious belief, sexual orientation, or country of birth, are equal under the law and entitled to equal protection and opportunity.
Pillar X: Anti-Extremism: All Safe Zones and the citizens therein must report, identify, or otherwise notify the respective authoritative bodies of any organizations, groups, collectives, or movements advocating genocide, supremacy, or systemic subjugation.
You close the pamphlet, shutting out what you didn’t want to know but need to understand. The Preservation of Humanity Charter. Mandate I. Specific and yet entirely vague—open to interpretation. On the surface, nothing appears nefarious, yet you detect hypocrisy in it, that as you dig deeper and ask more questions, fractures will appear.
Your gaze shifts to the collection of reading materials the transitional advisor and family planner handed you when you departed. They stare back, mocking. With a sigh, you set the pamphlet down and reach for another. This one is black with white lettering. “Bill of Rights” is embossed on the front near the top of the thin booklet. In the middle is the emblem of the United Nations.
Opening it, you scan the introduction.
In recognition of the fragility of civilization and the enduring worth of all persons, the United Nations affirms the following rights and protections as universal and mandatory for all Safe Zones, Neutral Zones, governing bodies, and military authorities. These rights are preserved under The United Nations Preservation of Humanity Charter, Mandate III, in alliance with the global standards set forth by the United Nations Continuity Council.
You pause in your reading, mind drifting toward all that’s been lost. There was so much chaos when the structures in place began to collapse—when everything destabilized and devolved. No one believed that any of this would happen. When world leaders threatened one another and preached for isolationism, nothing seemed to come of it. People went to work, lived their lives, spent time with their friends and families.
Then came the trade wars, the tariffs, and sanctions. Even then, people only complained about rising prices and the cost of living. Land and border disputes followed. More empty threats where nothing happened, and the news cycle carried on. But one country put boots on the ground. Another did the same in retaliation. Like a faucet being slowly turned on, the droplets became a stream and then a current.
Article I – Right to Existence and Liberty.
All citizens have the right to life, dignity, liberty, and autonomy. No persons shall be subject to enslavement, forced labor, or arbitrary detention.
All “citizens.” You’re not a citizen—not yet. Where does that leave you? Will they grant you full status when probation is lifted?
Article II – Equality Under Law.
A loud, repeated thudding fills the room, coming from the front door. Clutching the thin black booklet, you head for the door, yanking it open, only to find Lieutenant Riley on the other side holding a cardboard box.
“You’re here early,” you blurt.
“Brought you something,” he replies, voice raspy but gentle.
Behind the balaclava, all you can see are his gorgeous brown eyes. There is no crease in his brow—nothing that indicates any emotion. Yet his shoulders are a tad slumped, almost as if he’s exhausted and would rather be in bed.
You step to the side, holding the door open enough for Lieutenant Riley to enter. Shutting the door, you follow behind him as he makes his way into the bedroom. Placing the cardboard box on the bed, Lieutenant Riley rests his hands atop it, silently observing you as you approach the box.
“You brought me something?” you ask with a hint of excitement.
Neutrality becomes softness. A flush of pink blooms at the edges of the balaclava. Ghost taps the top of the box and takes a step back, extending an arm in open invitation.
“Go on,” he urges.
Placing the thin, black booklet on the bed, you reach for the box with eager, itching fingers. Anticipation flowers in your stomach. Only days ago, Lieutenant Riley dumped you out of his lap and left, hardly giving you a glance as he walked out the door. Now, here he is, bringing you a gift.
You open the box and find an array of colors.
“Is this…” you trail off, reaching into the box, fingers gliding along soft fabric.
Lifting it from its home, you unfurl it. A sweater. Deep maroon by the color. The fit looks almost perfect. Holding the sweater off to the side, you peer down into the box.
“Have you brought me clothes?” you ask, almost choking on your words.
On your release from quarantine, you were given a single outfit. You’ve been rotating through two shirts and two pants the last two weeks. Placing the sweater on the bed, you start removing more items. There are tank tops, dress pants, and cardigans. There’s even a sundress. A wave of joy washes over you, drowning you in rapt glee as you retrieve more clothing items out of the cardboard box.
“I guessed on your size,” says Ghost as a mountain of clothes begins to form on the thin duvet. “Wasn’t sure about color. Or style.”
While the clothes are clearly second-hand, all of it is in good condition. You’ll have more than two shirts to wear. More than two pants. Ghost has brought you an entire wardrobe.
Gratitude explodes within you, bringing you to the brink of tears.
“I can exchange what you don’t like,” he continues, rambling on like he’s suddenly nervous. “If something is too big, can always have it resized.”
“Lieutenant,” you whisper, clutching a pair of black slacks to your chest.
“Do you like it?” he asks, taking a step toward you.
He sounds so eager—so hopeful.
Words form and then promptly leave your head, escaping into the air. So, you don’t speak. You walk around the corner of the bed, and push into Lieutenant Riley’s space. Placing your hand on his arm for support, you go up on your toes, pressing your lips to his balaclava-covered cheek.
“Thank you,” you murmur, squeezing his arm. “For thinking of me.”
Lieutenant Riley’s brow is soft and delicate. He leans in your direction, pure affection in his gaze. It’s startling, sending a rush of heat up your neck and a little flip of your stomach. You quickly drop your hand, backing up.
“You start at the archive today,” states Ghost that soft gaze following your every step.
“I do,” you exhale, smiling in his direction as you delicately fold a pair of jeans. “I’m excited to be around books again.”
“Should pick something out,” nods Ghost. “Look your best for the big day.”
“You’re right,” you grin. “I should.”
After a long deliberation and several spins for Lieutenant Riley’s viewing pleasure, you select a simple black dress with a forest green cardigan. It’s plain and comfortable but professional.
Ghost lightly tugs on the hem of the cardigan. “Fit all right?”
“It’s lovely,” you beam, shying away from how intensely Lieutenant Riley watches you.
It’s hunger but not lecherous in nature. Like dark water, you cannot see into his depths—you cannot begin to guess what he might be thinking. Yet you like the attention, and whatever animosity that lingered between the two of you from the other night is gone. Lieutenant Riley’s body language is relaxed and intimate. The man is in a good mood, and that contentment only heightens your own happiness.
You should enjoy this day. It’s a fresh start. A new beginning in the face of all that you’ve lost.
Ghost releases the cardigan, his arm returning to his side. “Ready?”
You nod. “Ready.”
Out on the street, Ghost escorts you toward a black SUV.
You come to a dead stop. “Is this yours?” you ask in disbelief. “People own cars?”
Ghost opens the front passenger door. “No,” he answers, stepping to the side to indicate that you should get in.
“No this isn’t yours? Or no people don’t own cars?”
“Yes.”
You poke him in the chest, but you’re grinning. “Don’t you dare,” you laugh.
“Dare what?” he replies in mock confusion.
You shake your head good-naturedly, sliding into the passenger seat. Ghost shuts the door, circling around the front of the vehicle to hop into the driver side.
You arch an eyebrow. “Why are you taking me to work in a non-military vehicle?”
“How do you know that?” counters Ghost, draping his arm across the steering wheel.
“So it’s a civilian vehicle?”
“Didn’t say that,” he says casually, leaning back in the seat, reaching into his pocket as he digs around for something.
You open your mouth. Shut it. Ghost chuckles, and you playfully smack his bicep with the back of your hand. Withdrawing a pack of cigarettes and a lighter, Ghost sets both in the middle console. The SUV roars to life, the floor gently rattling beneath your feet. Ghost checks the side mirror and shifts gears. The vehicle rolls forward, cruising slowly down the street.
Two weeks behind the wall and all you’ve seen is the inside of your temporary apartment, and a few surrounding streets. This is furtherment—a consolidation of what was and the exploration of possibilities. Home is behind you, though it dwells in your heart, and for now, you must make peace with your new reality. You must navigate this to your advantage, happiness, and well-being.
That is the core of survival after all. To carry on.
“Where is the archive?” you ask, peering upward through the windshield at the towering buildings.
“It’s inside the library,” answers Ghost, turning on his blinker as he rolls up to a stop sign. “In the civilian zone.”
“We’re going to the civilian zone?” Your voice is laced with excitement.
All you’ve known is grim-faced men and a militarized looming presence. This might just be your first real sense of normalcy in almost a month.
“We are,” replies Ghost.
You can’t sit still as the SUV shepherds the two of you along. Beneath your skin is a buzzing adrenaline. It pushes you to twist and turn, to try and absorb everything around you. The neutral greyness of the militarized zone starts to change, shifting toward greenery. Where there were only sidewalk, road, and buildings, trees and plants begin to appear at even intervals, adding a touch of color.
Ghost slows the vehicle at a small guard gate. The barrier lifts, and a guard waves the SUV through. The transition to the civilian zone is almost instantaneous—a whiplash. While there are several vehicles on the road, the majority are buses, and beside those in designated lanes are bicyclists and motorized scooters. No one walks around in uniform. It’s so…ordinary, and yet so strange, like you’ve been transported back to a time before the collapse or shoved into a parallel reality.
There is a communal quality to the way people move in groups or pairs. No one appears to be any hurry. Lieutenant Riley turns, and you nearly tell him to stop the car. You press your face to the glass, mouth agape as he drives by an open market.
As he takes another turn, you whirl around in your seat. “What was that? Can we stop there?”
Behind the balaclava, the skin around Lieutenant Riley’s eyes wrinkle, hinting at a hidden smile. “Another time,” he murmurs. “Promise. Don’t want to be late on your first day.”
You press yourself against the seat, head tilted in the direction of the window. While everything appears clean—utopian even—there is an underlying rawness, a wear and tear that can only come from age and lack of sufficient resources. Questions fire off in your head. There is so much you want to ask Ghost. If he weren’t so goddamn stubborn, you’d talk his ear off for hours. Instead, you sit still, toying with the hem of your dress as Lieutenant Riley guides the vehicle along.
A few more turns, and then you’re solidified, staring up in shock at the building before you.
“Oh my God,” you say aloud.
Lieutenant Riley snorts at your outburst.
The library’s front façade are book spines in various colors and titles. This is not a structure built in the collapse but from the time before, when libraries were receiving adequate funding, the government cared about knowledge, and learning was publicly free institution. The very center of the building, where the stone stairs meet the entrance doors, is a wall of glass, splitting the book spines into two sections.
“This is—This is amazing,” you gasp.
Ghost grunts in what must be an agreement. Either way, you don’t particularly care. This is a library, a place you never thought you’d see in all its glory again.
“Are you crying?” asks Lieutenant Riley, reaching across the center counsel to place his hand on your shoulder.
“Yes,” you hiccup, wiping away a wayward tear.
“What’s upset you?” He sounds genuinely worried, and that only makes you cry harder.
“I’m happy. I promise,” you say through a shaky breath.
The crease in the middle of Lieutenant Riley’s brow doesn’t abate. “Need to take a minute?”
You nod, sniffling, using the sleeve of the cardigan to absorb the remaining tears. “Just a bit overwhelmed.” Ghost nods but remains the quiet companion as you gather your composure. “I’m ready,” you murmur after a minute.
Lieutenant Riley leans away from you, fingers pressing against the door lock buttons. You hear the audible transition of the locks disengaging. Reaching for the handle, you take a deep breath, readying yourself for what’s to come.
The car door opens. Crisp, cool air rushes in. You inhale sharply, slipping from the seat, landing on solid ground. Glancing over your shoulder, you lock gazes with Lieutenant Riley. He gives a little nod, an encouraging inclination to go.
You raise your hand in the smallest goodbye, slamming the SUV door. Through the window tint, you watch him watching you. Backward step. A turn of your heel. Forward step by forward step. Stairs.
At the top, just before the glass doors, you turn one last time. Ghost is still parked at the curb. Waiting. This is a different version of him, a patient and caring Lieutenant Riley you haven’t seen before. He’s certainly flirted, found ways to comfort you, but there has always been distance—a separation. You consider this change as you enter the library, questioning whether Lieutenant Riley’s motivations are pure.
Who did they assign to you?
Why does it matter?
It matters to me.
The bit of joy that’s made a nest in you fractures. Small cracks. Tiny fissures. Not enough to notice but just wide enough to allow bitterness in.
I was offended they didn’t make me an offer.
Perhaps Lieutenant Riley’s motivations aren’t pure. It’s clear that he wants you to himself, but why? Why you when he could probably have anyone?
As you enter the library, you’re greeted by a warmly lit space, the interior all dark wood and polished stone. Overhead, you notice a balcony of a second story. All you can see of it are the tops of the shelves, but that isn’t what captures your attention. As you approach the front desk, you notice the lack of books on the shelves. Some are completely empty, others full. Most are partially stocked with sections of barren shelving, dust collecting in the corners.
You give your name at the desk, and the receptionist smiles.
“Follow me,” she says, voice soft and lyrical.
As the two of you head toward the back of the building, your awe becomes worry. Most of the lights are turned off back here. The bit of light it does receive comes from the main windows up front and a few skylights that cut through the middle of the second-story ceiling. Rope barricades close off endless rows of empty shelves. Destruction has not touched them. They are simply empty. Bones and broken skulls that once held neural gore.
“Through this door, dear,” says the receptionist, indicating a door that says, “Archival Department” and below that “Employees Only.”
“Thank you,” you reply, but she’s already off, shoes clacking against the marble.
You press your hand to the door, standing there in the muted shadows. Instinct is rising, whispering to run, to seek shelter in more familiar places. But there is nowhere for you to go. Even if you were to walk out the front door, Lieutenant Riley might not be out front, and you don’t know how to return to your apartment.
“Fuck,” you whisper, pressing your forehead to the door with the other hand on the handle. “Fuck.”
You have to do this.
You have to do this.
You have to—
Turning the handle, you shove it open, barreling through without looking where you’re going. You nearly take a tumble, righting yourself at the last moment. The door slam shuts behind you, and three pairs of eyes stare back.
“That’s certainly an entrance,” comes a masculine voice with a thick Irish accent.
A tall, lanky man with wire-thin glasses sits behind a plain wood desk covered in stacks of paper and various office supplies. His auburn hair has a touch of grey in it—messy too like he’s only just rolled out of bed. In his hand is a white mug with black lettering that says Yes, I really do need all these books.
“Hi,” you manage, raising your hand in greeting.
When he smiles, there is a fatherly touch to it. You instantly gravitate toward it. “I’m Arthur,” he says, rising from his chair and circling around the front of his desk, arm extended, hand offered in a handshake.
You give your own name, clasping his hand. “It’s nice to meet you.”
“You’re me new archivist.”
“I am,” you nod.
Arthur beams. “Welcome.” He turns to the other two people in the room. Both are women around your age give or take a year or two. “This is Hannah.” He nods toward a blonde with a head of tight curls. “And that is Eloise.”
“Hello,” they greet in unison, all smiles.
The room itself is a quaint office space. Along the far wall are large windows that let in natural light. There are four desks in total, three clearly belong to Arthur, Hannah, and Eloise. The fourth sits empty and must be yours. Beneath your shoes is worn, dark wood and the walls are an off beige with one accent wall in dark green. Pushed up against the three walls without windows are rows and rows of shelving, all of it packed and overflowing. A few of the wood shelves sag inward, threatening to collapse at any moment.
“Charles mentioned your experience,” says Arthur. He takes a drink from his mug. “We’re happy to have you. Too much work for three.” He chuckles. “Not that four will be much better.”
“I noticed all the empty shelves,” you reply, taking a leap in what he might be referring to.
He nods solemnly. “This library services the entire Safe Zone. You’d think they’d assign more staff.” Arthur shakes his head. “We can’t process all this material fast enough. Demand is high but we’re only three.” He lifts his coffee mug in your direction. “Four.”
“Staying busy sounds nice,” you reply, because it’s true. You need out of your fucking head. You need to be away from Ghost and from that apartment for a bit. “And books make me happy.”
Arthur nods. “Hopefully you’ll still love them as time goes on.” He clears his throat. “Now, about the job.”
An endless sea of information rushes at you. Eloise and Hannah float about the office, the two of them chatting in French as they rifle through paperwork. Arthur leaves them to it, taking you on a full tour of the office space and then into the library itself. You stay politely silent through most of it, asking questions when there are lulls. Meandering through the library, Arthur circles back to the office, bringing you to another door.
“Behind here,” he begins. “Is everything we have yet to duplicate.”
While walking through the library, Arthur explained the only books on the shelves were ones they already had duplicates of. There are plenty more where there are only singular copies. Some in pristine condition, others needing a reprint. But it’s not all physical. There are digital versions too that are sitting, waiting to be processed.
“It’s a maze in there.”
“I’m ready,” you smile.
Arthur opens the door, the two of you stepping inside. The quality of the air is immediately different. On the wall next to the door are several panels indicating temperature, air quality, and humidity. It’s all being monitored. But that’s not what shocks you.
Arthur wasn’t joking. The place is a fucking maze.
“What—what is all this?” you ask, turning toward him, gesturing at what can only be called a mess.
Arthur sighs, adjusting his glasses. “That is too much work for four people.”
There is no organization. To order in the chaos. It’s just rows of shelving, stacks of cardboard boxes and storage bins. There are even stacked books pressed up against the wall. A home was found, even that means home is on the goddamn floor.
“No kidding,” you whisper.
Just as Arthur opens his mouth, the door swings open.
“It’s lunch,” says Hannah.
Arthur checks his watch. “Look at that.”
“And someone is here for you,” adds Hannah, smiling in your direction.
“Me?” You point at yourself as if there might be another of you lurking in the stacks.
Hannah’s smile shifts, becoming a knowing smirk like she’s holding on to a little secret.
Arthur claps and pats his stomach. “Lunch is an hour. A full hour.” He winks. “We take that seriously around here.”
At the library reception desk, you find an unexpected visitor.
“Lieutenant,” you breathe, approaching Ghost slowly. “Are we leaving?”
You don’t want to go. Only a few hours in and you’re eager to stay, to idle amongst the shelves.
In one hand, Ghost carries a soft-sided insulated cooler bag. Tucked under that arm is large blanket. The receptionists gaze lingers on the two of you, observing with abject curiosity. Ghost is in his all-black fatigues and balaclava.
“Thought I’d bring lunch,” he states.
“That’s kind of you,” you murmur, reaching for the blanket.
Ghost surrenders it without protest. “There’s a park across the street.”
You nod, clutching the blanket to your chest. “I’d like that.”
A few minutes later and you’re sitting on the blanket, soaking up the sun as Lieutenant Riley opens the cooler bag. He retrieves a glass bottle of water along with sandwiches, fresh fruit, and some cut raw veggies.
“Eat as much as you want,” sighs Ghost as he settles onto his back, arms tucked behind his head.
Unwrapping one of the sandwiches, you take a bite, chewing slowly. “Thank you.”
Lieutenant Riley glances at you. “You didn’t pack a lunch. Knew you’d be hungry.”
“Looking after me?” you tease.
“That’s my job.”
You snort and take another bite. As you chew, you pour yourself some water. It’s cold and crisp. Refreshing. “Didn’t work today?” you venture to ask.
“Work every day,” sighs Ghost. “Price doesn’t mind if I slip away for an hour or two.”
“Must be nice,” you murmur.
“First day treating you well?”
You nod, still chewing. Swallowing, you answer him. “It’s a good fit. Keep me busy.”
“Good.”
“Arthur is the Lead Archivist. And Irish. Hannah and Eloise speak French, but their accents are different.” You take another bite. “Pretty sure Hannah’s Canadian and Eloise is from France,” you muse. After a few seconds of silence, you continue. “Is that normal for all the Safe Zones?”
Ghost adjusts, stretching. “Is what normal?”
“Is it normal for people from different countries to all live in a Safe Zone together?”
Lieutenant Riley stares up into the sky. “It’s on purpose.” You start to formulate a follow-up question, but he carries on. “To dispel supremacy movements. Can’t gather support if the remaining population is scattered across hundreds of Safe Zones.”
“There are hundreds of Safe Zones?” Ghost nods but doesn’t elaborate. “How many exactly?” you probe.
“Just over two hundred.”
Two hundred? There aren’t even two hundred countries. You recall the map in Commander Graves’ office, of the different colored stars that dotted the unlabeled land masses. Of the stars, there were eight different colors, but now that you consider it, they easily could have been two hundred of them on it.
“Are they all large like this one?”
“No,” snorts Lieutenant Riley. “Most are small. Only a few dozen are the size of this one. Ten that are even larger.”
This is the most information Ghost has given you. He appears more open than before. Relaxed. You take another bite of your sandwich, knowing that you need to take advantage of this opportunity.
“Is that why the country flags are black on your uniforms?”
Like a sudden breeze that chills the bones, Lieutenant Riley’s demeanor shifts to a somber note. “Partially,” he answers, voice raspy. “Black flags used to mean something different. Now it’s a statement of grief and remembrance.”
“I don’t entirely understand,” you say softly, shifting closer to him. “There’s so much I don’t know. And no one is willing to talk to me about it. They just…stare at me like I’m dumb.”
You recall Commander Graves’ disgusted expression, and the aloofness you received from Charles. Joann didn’t acknowledge your lack of understanding either.
Ghost still stares into the sky. “Countries exist by law and not land. Borders don’t bloody matter when half a continent is devasted by warfare.”
A sourness blooms in your stomach, the food sitting heavy. “What about your home?”
“Habitable. But destroyed. The infrastructure is gone. All the major cities are craters.”
You reach out, placing your hand on his arm. “I’m so sorry.”
Lieutenant Riley finally looks at you, a sadness settling in his brow. “I’ll be fine, dove. Everyone I care about is here.”
You give his arm a little squeeze before retreating, fiddling with the paper wrapper your sandwich sits in. While you’d like more answers, it’s clear that this topic upsets him. Lieutenant Riley’s home is gone—obliterated. It’s not a pleasant topic for idle conversation.
“With the school attached, I might be asked to lead a writing or reading class. Maybe sub if someone is sick. Arthur mentioned that they try to go there once a week to help those students who are behind reading level.”
It’s an attempt to turn the conversation around, to divert Lieutenant Riley’s thoughts elsewhere. He takes it, some of that sadness receding.
“You interested in that?” he inquires.
You incline your head. “Yes. Did it all the time in my previous community.” Taking another bite of your sandwich, you chew thoughtfully. “But I wouldn’t call what we had a ‘school.’ Did our best though.”
Lieutenant Riley’s gaze is soft. There is a lightness to it, an affectionate edge that reminds you of this morning. You fluster under that stare, staring down at your lap.
“You’ll be brilliant,” he states with such confidence that you believe it too. A smile forms on your lips, spreading wide until your cheeks hurt. Lieutenant Riley rolls onto his side. “Can I kiss you?”
Startled, you blink rapidly. “I—” You giggle. “Yes.”
As you lean toward him, Ghost reaches out, grasping the back of your neck to draw you closer. With one hand on his chest, and the other pushing up his balaclava to reveal his lips, you don’t care if anyone is watching. The sweet connection is instant sunshine—a flowering of a season. Low in your core, a heat stirs.
Soft and slow, Ghost restrains himself, and that only fuels the desire swirling inside you. This is the Lieutenant Riley you like. The one you want to know. Even though you’ve been ripped from your home, you could make a new one here, with him, if only it were always like this.
“Dove,” he breathes against your lips.
That name he calls you. An endearment. You pretend to hate it, but the way he always says it with a husky tone sends you over the edge every time. It drives into your skull. Burrows in your bone.
“Need to take you back,” he whispers, nuzzling your cheek. You linger here, eyes closing as his thumb traces the underside of your bottom lip.
The walk back is silent but not awkward. You stand close to him, arms occasionally brushing against each other with the sway of your body. The urge to hold his hand is suffocating, but you resist. There is no relationship here—only a terrible back-and-forth that you cannot wrap your head around.
The rest of your workday is a blur. It’s combing the library catalog and organizing stacks of paperwork Eloise places on your desk. There is no clear organization. Most of the paperwork are inquiries from other Safe Zones, wanting to know if they have extra copies of certain materials. You do not touch anything in the storage room, but neither do Arthur, Hannah, or Eloise. It dawns on you then, that the work happening requires far more people than what’s been staffed.
When Lieutenant Riley comes to pick you up, you’re almost thankful. Exhaustion settles over you, and you don’t realize you’ve fallen asleep in the passenger seat until Ghost awakens you. Every step is a drag, and all you want is your bed.
With a groan, you flop onto the duvet. Beside you, the bed dips as Ghost sits.
“Are you staying?” you ask into the bedding.
“No.” Silence. Then, “I have to take you to the family planner at the end of the week.”
Your eyes pop open, the tiredness vanishing. Pushing up, you turn toward Lieutenant Riley. “Did they say why?”
He shakes his head. “Just that they want to see you.”
This is it.
The push.
“You’re being pushy.”
“I’m sorry if I’m coming across that way.” Joann folds her hands in front of her on the desk. She has this superior look about her, as if to say, I know more than you. “I’m simply thinking ahead. Better to start the search now than wait until you’re ready.”
“I’m not ready,” you scoff, still in complete belief at Joann’s audacity to hurl this at you. “I haven’t even been assigned my new home after probation. I just started my job a few days ago.” You shake your head. “This is all very sudden.”
Joann puts on an air of false sympathy. “I completely understand. It’s a difficult transition. But if you put this off, you’ll find yourself rushing later.”
I fucking doubt that, you think even as the words threaten to leave your mouth.
She raises her hands in a placating gesture. “Don’t think of it in the way you’re thinking. You don’t need to make a decision tomorrow.” Joann shrugs. “Think of it as shopping.”
“You’re asking me to shop around for a potential spouse?”
“Or sperm donor,” interjects Joann. “We are inclusive here.”
You wince, wanting to be done with this conversation. It’s not as easy as saying no and moving on. Joann isn’t here speaking with you just for you to throw a no in her face. Not that she gave you the option. I put you down for single’s social, she had said with a bright smile, as if that’s something you wanted to hear today.
“Do I need to wear anything specific?” you ask. “Is this a casual event? Or…”
“It’s casual, but I’d recommend something that compliments you.” She laughs. “No one is going to be in a suit if that’s what you’re asking.”
“Didn’t know those still existed,” you mutter.
Joann ignores your comment. “Look at this as an opportunity. I’ve already received a few inquiries about your eligibility.”
“I’m sorry,” you blurt. “You’ve received what?”
Joann continues like she didn’t hear you. “All of them will be there. And I’ll likely receive more after you attend.” She sighs dreamily. “Especially from those military boys. They see what they want and go after it.”
No. Fucking no.
“This will overwhelm me,” you chuckle nervously. “I shouldn’t go.”
Joann blinks. “Course you should. It’ll do you good to get out. Talk with people other than Lieutenant Riley. I know he’s mysterious and has a bit of a bad boy reputation, but he’s not the only option.” She smooths her hand over the small stack of papers in front of her. “It’s also an excellent opportunity to make some connections. Maybe find friends.”
You could use some friends, but your coworkers are starting to fill that gap. Eloise brought you some croissants she made, and Hannah presented you with your very own coffee mug with “Book Sniffer” on it because she caught you smelling a particularly beautiful copy of War & Peace.
Gathering up the papers, Joann gently taps them against the top of the table. “Lieutenant Riley will be there but I recommend you branch out. I know that he’s probably a place of safety for you right now but lingering at his side all night isn’t the best idea.”
“Why is that?” you snap.
While you’re genuinely interested in knowing, you’re also a bit pissed off that Joann called you out. Ghost is your safety net, and if he’s attending, why would you leave his side to speak with anyone else.
“It’s not fair to others,” answers Joann simply. “Stick by Lieutenant Riley’s side during the whole social and people will think you’re spoken for. They’ll complain.” She looks at you pointedly. “And we don’t want that.”
Fuck.
Causing problems. It’s the exact thing you don’t want to do while you’re on your probationary period. Once you’re past it, things might be different. Charles hasn’t discussed what comes after. He didn’t say whether or not you receive immediate citizenship or if there’s an additional process.
No one is giving you clear direction. No one wants to fully explain. It’s expected submission, to look down and follow along. Pushing back or questioning too much seems to aggravate everyone.
“No,” you agree. “We don’t want that.”
Joann’s face lights up, and you immediately want to slap it off her face. “Brilliant,” she sighs. “Here’s the information. Can’t wait to hear all about it when I see you next.”
Fucking doubtful.
With a half-hearted smile, you make your exit, meeting Ghost in the lobby of the building. When he notices you, he immediately turns in your direction, walking toward you with purpose in every step.
“Everything good?” he asks, grasping your arm to pull you in.
You hand him the information instead of speaking. Ghost takes it, gaze roaming over the piece of paper rapidly.
burned within like a dying star (anakin x f!reader)
rating: e (sexual content!)
tags: smut, fem!reader tho no descriptors are use, no use of y/n or l/n, sex pollen, smut, p in v, multiple orgasms, multiple positions, desperate anakin, light praise, vaginal fingering, oral (m/f receiving), nipple play, anakin has a big dick, set during clone wars
tldr: anakin & reader fuck nasty on the floor of his spaceship
wc: 5k of pure filth lol
summary: You spent the last ten years perfecting an artificial pheromone to save an alien species from extinction. And you've almost perfected it when a Separatist force ambushes your research station, destroying your samples, and placing yourself and the Jedi, Anakin, in the crossfire of it's potent fumes.
// READ ON AO3 // 🌟
Anakin's body writhed over yours in a tangled, sweaty mess of limbs. Your spine slid across his smooth, slick chest. His cock nudged deeper and deeper as he pinned you beneath him against the cold, metal floor, where your fingers scrambled for purchase and your breath wheezed from your lungs in short, desperate gasps.
Your eyelids fluttered as your eyes rolled back into your skull and Anakin grunted a low, lewd curse into the shell of your ear.
“Don't stop," he rasped, though he had all the physical power in this situation, his cock buried deep within your folds, his hands locked tight around your hips as he drew you back into him with forceful, short tugs.
A string of saliva trickled from the corner of your mouth and suddenly Anakin's gloved fingers were pushing between your lips, his index and middle smearing over your tongue, and pulling your jaw open with the curl of his fingers pressing into the blunt edge of your teeth. You suckled on his fingers, groaning around the solid, soft digits and he released a low, primal hum of approval.
He dragged his wet, gloved fingers from your mouth, across your throat, and between your breasts before he found the sweet spot between your legs and began swirling his two fingers across your peaked, throbbing clit. You moaned, loud and reckless, the hollow-sound reverberating across the cockpit as Anakin Skywalker made you burn from within like a dying star.
“Anakin, please," you choked the words free from your tight throat. your walls convulsed wildly around his thick, heavy cock, attempting to pull and squeeze him deeper, as your release hit you in a shock wave of buckling pleasure.
You would've face-planted onto the metal floor if Anakin hadn't caught you with the slight, mystical touch of the force. He guided your face down slowly and you pillowed your head upon your folded arms, your sweaty body pulsing and jerking forward with every one of Anakin's deliberate, fast-paced thrusts.
All of this from a mere pheromone sample?
A delirious laugh bubbled in your throat, but it was swallowed and replaced with a drawn-out moan as you felt Anakin swell and spill inside of you.
8 HOURS EARLIER
Though the war threatened to swallow every quadrant of the universe, you refused to cower and abandon the precious experiment that you had spent the past decade perfecting. The planet below, Decuurr Gamma, was a lush, humid planet teeming with great rocky mountains, rich in mineral deposits. But, more importantly than the resources, was the nearly-endangered Vux species.
The Vux were an intelligent, humanoid type species: larger than humans (the average male height was nearly 7ft, and the average female was 6 and a half), with their skin color ranging from ashen gray to smoky twilight. Their eyes were small and black, and they had ears shaped like a Chadra-Fans', only slightly smaller.
And they were dying. Not due to war, or famine, or disease, but an extremely low-birth rate and medical difficulties with Vux's carrying offspring to term. You had been tasked with the daunting responsibility to help the Vux.
A third of your research had focused on their mating habits and patterns. The Vux differed from humanity in the sense that they had a biological imperative that bonded them to a specific sexual partner. An offspring could only be born if the Vux became intimate with the correct partner. The Vux had attempted to circumvent this issue by engaging in intercourse with non-mates, but the pregnancies wouldn't reach their full cycle and the chance of a live birth was slim.
Another half of your research went into discovering the how and why this mating prerogative existed. After serval dead-ins, threats to remove funding, you had discovered that the Vux's natural pheromones weren't releasing the right 'signals'. Rather than a 'come hither' message to their kin, pinpointing their mates like a tracking beam, the pheromones produced were pushing potential mates away.
And everything had been going well...until the Jedi arrived.
He walked into your brightly lit, white and chrome laboratory, his curly hair framing his handsome face with slight sheen of glistening sweat on his brow. After introductions were made, his voice like velvet over your ears, Anakin revealed his reason for the impromptu visit.
“Why would the separatists care about this planet?!" you demanded, “we're all the way in the outer-rim."
“The Vux don't have a strong military presence anymore, do they?" Anakin asked, though you suspected the question was rhetorical.
Once upon a parsec, the Vux had an impressive starship fleet, a strong military power that ensured their planet remained unharmed by junk-dealers or criminals operating in the outer-rim. But...these past ten years had changed the fabric of the galaxy- including Decuurr Gamma. Their population couldn't risk becoming involved in conflict.
“And the separatists need resources," he said as he looked from your large, observatory window facing the tall, impressive mountains in the distance.
Your brow crinkled. "then...then I’ll -" You fumbled for the correct decision. Your research was almost complete. The vials, beakers, computerized files, and technology surrounding you were proof enough of that fact and the latest, perfected batch was set to be tested tomorrow morning. You couldn't leave.
“I’ll arrange for my team to evacuate," you struggled the words out, a hard knot twisting in your throat. "but, I’ll stay here."
Anakin turned toward you and you were forced to meet his stubborn, darkened blue gaze. His eyes reminded you of the misty, fog-covered mountains in the early blue-gray dawn.
“With all due respect, I don't think that's wise." He shook his head. “You should take your research and come to the inner-rim. it's safer there and the republic--"
You anxiously cut him off, “And how will the Vux survive? I doubt they'll let me re-enter the planet with all this." You gestured with one arm towards your lab as your other arm remained secured around your midsection.
Anakin frowned.
“If they go for an all-out attack then--" he stopped and something imperceptible crossed over his intense gaze. A bright and blaring alarm cut through the research station and his body drew taught as his hand flew to his lightsaber.
“Get down!" he yelled as the doors hissed open and two droids trotted into the room, blasters screaming through the air, and crashing into your equipment. You screamed: in fear, in anger, in distress. Your knees ached as you crawled behind the pristine white work benches and glass shattered over your head.
The droning hum of a lightsaber cut through the air in melodic, swooping arcs. Another terrifying, awful shatter of glass and the blaster-fire echoed through your ear drums. A fine, lilac-hued smoke clung to the air, causing your eyes to smarten and water. It took your frazzled mind a second to realize what the droids had hit. Oh. Oh fuck. Oh no. This was bad. Very, very bad.
You risked popping your head from behind its cover and shouted roughly to the young Jedi, “Don't breathe it in!"
“Is it deadly?!" he yelled in return as he force-pushed a droid away with a quick shove of his hand and deflected a blaster-beam with his lightsaber. You shook your head and clammy sweat prickled at the back of your neck.
“No." You coughed. “Won't kill us."
You couldn't and didn't study the effects of a Vux pheromone supplement on a human body. Your research focused on the Vux themselves; their bodies, their chemicals, their minds. Many of their organs mirrored humans, but they had a few biological differences besides their 'mating scent'. The Vux child bearers could carry two separate pregnancies and the entire species had a brief refractory period, lasting only a few minutes at most according to your research.
Your experiment had taken all of this into account. You measured for it. The artificial pheromone chemical you produced was designed for a sexually-developed Vux. A creature much larger than you or Anakin. You tugged your stiff, clean lab coat from your arms and sweat bloomed over the dewy surface of your skin. Your logical mind tried to cut through your reeling, impulsive thoughts. Could you flush out the fumes?
Anakin approached you, helping you to your feet by gripping your elbow, and then he stumbled into your body with a dazed, glazed look. He pressed his damp forehead against yours.
“What's happening?" His tongue darted out to wet his lips and you longed to pull his mouth down onto yours
“They blew up my research," you said sourly, gripping the tense, solid firmness of his shoulders. “We're breathing it in...it's going to cause...ah..." You struggled to get the words free as another ripple of heat pooled within your lower abdomen. It's causing us to behave like mated-Vux, you wanted to explain, but the words wouldn't come.
“Master Yoda mentioned that your team." His nose bumped into yours. “Was assisting in...fertility research?"
“Something like that, yes," you replied, breathless and aching. “This will pass." You hoped it would, anyways. A paired Vux mated for hours, another biological drive to ensure offspring was produced, but, this couldn't last that long, could it?
“We need to go. C’mon."
You nodded numbly, foolishly enjoying the warm dance of air on your lips from Anakin's mouth. He was a Jedi. The Jedi didn't...well…they didn't have wives, or husbands, or lovers, or even families. Everyone knew that. And you were grateful that Anakin was stronger than you. Once you arrived at his ship, you’d hide away in one of the bunks and wait to sweat this out like a bad fever.
Anakin cleared a path to the docking bay and managed to send a message to the Republic, but you both knew there was little chance of rescue for the Vux people. This ambush was won by the separatists. They’d take Decuurr Gamma by force and have the Vux at their mercy. And there was nothing more you could do…
Your limbs were locked into motion by sheer adrenaline and several, desperate thoughts of what Anakin's muscled back looked like beneath his robes. He pulled you by hand into his ship and threw himself into the pilot's seat. You clenched your thighs together as you watched at his gloved hands flying with familiarity over the controls.
You never imagined you'd nearly cum just by watching someone in their element--but fuck, there was a first time for everything, wasn't there? Embarrassed, you turned your hot, sweaty face away as small, wrecking shudders pulled through your body.
Anakin, misreading you, asked, "you alright?"
“Hate flying,” you grit out as your fingers clenched over the armrests.
It wasn't until the ship lulled into a quiet auto-pilot that you unclenched your fists and opened your eyes. And Anakin was there. He was kneeling in front of you, breathing heavily, his hair matted with sweat and dripping into his pupil-blown eyes.
“What's. Happening. To. Me." He met your eyes and set his jaw in a painful, agonized clench. “The thoughts I’m having...the things…I want..."
“It'll pass," you repeated as your fingertips left the armrest and came to cradle his face and Anakin sagged into your touch like he needed it. You licked your lips.
“The Vux are a unique species," you said as Anakin's trembling fingers reached up to unclasp your safety belt. “Who can only conceive if they're with the correct mate."
His hands settled on your thighs and burned through the fabric of your skirt.
“They don't engage in sex for pleasure." You scooted forward and braced your knees on either side of Anakin's broad chest, your skirt bunching as it rode up your thighs and hugged your hips. “But the pheromones they were releasing naturally weren't sending the correct signals..."
“And your artificial one did?"
“I don't know.” You shook your head, feeling dizzy. “We hadn't released it. It wasn’t done.” You drew your lower lip in-between your teeth, a stab of sadness cutting through the haze of lust. “Now, we'll never know."
The last ten years were lost. Burned. Ruined. You had always secured and saved your notes, but it would take years to replicate the formula. And the Vux didn't have years to wait.
Anakin's thumb touched your lower lip, drawing it free from your teeth, his pupils blown wide and hungry.
“Come closer," he said, a slight hitch to his deep, masculine voice. and you were in no state to deny him nor did you want to. Your lips dragged tentatively over his. Once. Before he pushed his hands under your skirt and slid his tongue between your waiting, eager lips. His kiss was fluid, but sloppy and impatient. His hands tugged your underwear from your legs and tossed it somewhere within the cockpit.
You barely had a second to breathe before Anakin wrenched your legs apart and buried his face into your pulsing, sensitive cunt. You yelped, one hand gripping his hair, as your hips jolted into his face with a hurried jerk of a motion. His tongue ran velvet-smooth licks along your folds before he closed his perfect mouth around your clit and suckled until your spine arched from the back of your seat and your thighs clamped around his sweat-matted head.
“Don't stop - mmh- fuck," you whined, bucking into him, all previous thoughts of Jedi lacking the skills (or desire or interest) in sex immediately forgotten. Anakin's tongue played against you like your moans were his favorite, sweetest song.
Your head thrashed to the side. “Please."
Anakin's inner chaos quieted once he had you on his tongue. You quivered around him, begging him, tugging at his hair as you rocked your hips into his face.
You had explained that his emotions were tied to the chemical pheromone that your team had manufactured and although he didn't fully understand how the chemical worked, he did understand on some primal level that he needed you like nothing else. He needed you all over him, mouth, hands, everything. Everything you'd give him, he'd greedily take, like a back-alley junk dealer looking to swindle tourists.
You came, shouting his name, and Anakin drew back and wiped his mouth with the back of his gloved hands.
“Take it off," you whined, grappling for the front of his Jedi robes.
He snatched your mouth with his and pulled you both onto the floor, placing you in his lap, and rocking his clothed, tented cock into your wet core. You gasped sweetly and dragged your folds over him in rhythmic, desperate little motions. The air thickened with heat. Your intelligent eyes went glossy and glazed. Your nostrils flared as you tried to contain your needy pants. You were gorgeous and insatiable and he wanted to lose himself with you. Forget the Jedi Council. Forget the tragedy that happened on the planet below. He wanted your wet heat enveloping him. He wanted his name to fall from your lips.
He reached up and yanked open your shirt and sent its tiny fastening buttons pinging like rain across the metal floor.
Your breasts were perfect. Beautiful. And he needed to touch you. He needed to taste you until his tongue went numb. He needed to fill his ship with the sounds of your pleasured cries.
He tilted up halfway to draw one of your sweet, peaked nipples into his mouth and relished in the surprised, luscious sound you made as you cradled his head to your chest. His tongue laved over the bud, sweeping and suckling, flicking it and molding kisses along the tops and undersides of your flesh.
“Fuck," he grunted, holding your hips steady, and enjoyed the friction his clothes provided against your warm cunt. Time stretched, lasting forever, lasting for seconds. He kissed you. Strong and firm. Nothing else existed beyond your tongue between his teeth and your body gyrating above his.
“You can't take me yet," he moaned when your hand snaked down his chest to feel him through his clothes.
“Someone's confident," you said with a breathless laugh, though the mirth died in your throat when your palm touched the hard, large length of him. You worked your fingers down from shaft to base and choked back your astonishment. Anakin's eyes glimmered with satisfaction. You slithered your hand beneath his robes and pulled him free, lowering yourself as he parted his Jedi robes to reveal the smooth, cut expanse of his chest. You kissed lightly across his stomach and Anakin moaned your name at the first touch of your lips upon his cock.
You ran your tongue across the salty, masculine heat of him, up and down, until he was slick with your salvia before you attempted to close your lips around his head. Anakin practically growled from above you, one hand tight on your shoulder, the other in a fist at his side.
You slowly drew his cock into your mouth, your tongue flat against your jaw, and a quake of pleasure ran down your spine like an electric live-wire. Everything within you pulsed with sheer, primal desire. You wanted to please him. And you wanted him, in every position, on every surface. Whatever functions to your logical brain had been turned off. All that mattered was muscles, and limbs, and quenching this bottomless thirst within you.
Anakin groaned, arching his neck and exposing the vulnerable column of his throat as his dark, curly hair fanned out around his anguished, tortured expression. You drew him out of your mouth, licked him in slow and teasing strokes, gifting him with little soft kisses over his shaft before you repeated the cycle over and over again.
"'m close--" Anakin shuddered, his grip on the back of your neck almost painful, though he didn't trap you to him. You worked your fist over his slick cock, feeling him pulse in your palm, watching him writhe through your lidded eyes. He finished with a loud keen and his warm seed spurted and spilled across and over your breasts.
Anakin gasped, bright-eyed and flushed, before he pulled you by the arms toward him and devoured your mouth in hungry, satin kisses.
Your head spun, delirious with pleasure. He tore your shirt from your shoulders and ripped the bunched black skirt from your hips with little effort, bearing yourself before him like a statue of a divine figure.
He laid back. His brown Jedi robe sprawled beneath your naked bodies like a picnic blanket. A boyish, cheerful light sparkled through his eyes, so light and carefree that your chest clenched.
“Anakin,” you whispered as a prickly chill danced over your skin. You pressed your bare, aching breasts to his chest and squirmed against him, attempting to meld your bodies into one.
He pulled one glove free and licked his bare fingers before he dragged them across your cunt and plunged two fingers into you. You spasmed, fingers clawing into his chest, as he pumped two fingers in and out of you with a controlled, measured pace.
“Faster, please, Anakin," you whimpered, hips shifting in an effort to speed him along.
“No, mhm-nn.” He toyed with your earlobe between his soft, teasing lips. “Not yet." His thumb circled your clit and you stopped arguing as the slick sounds from between your thighs became obscenely erotic. You couldn't remembered ever being this turned on, this wet, for anyone before. Was it the chemical? Or was it Anakin? But, you didn't have the brain power to solve that particular puzzle.
“More." You were close. Close already?! From nothing more than his mouth on your neck and his fingers pumping into you. Stars, save you.
“More?" he echoed, a third fingertip teasing your cunt.
“Please, Anakin." You nuzzled into the side of his face, breathing deeply, perhaps taking a full breath for the first time this morning. Anakin blessedly chose to indulge you and coax a third finger into your hole.
You adjusted to the slight discomfort, your body stretching and welcoming, your skin prickling with anticipation. He gripped your ass with his gloved hand, holding you close and tight, while his bare fingers stoked a roaring inferno in the lower pools of your stomach.
“N-need you ready," he whispered huskily, "you're so wet. so close. wanna - oh - fuck.” He pressed his lips together, his control unraveling as you squeezed his fingers. “Be s-so deep inside you. feel you."
"yes, yes, yes," you babbled, "yes, please. everything."
He tucked face into your chest, leaving hot, suckling kisses along the sensitive skin, bruising and marking you with the blunt edge of his teeth.
You came so hard that your teeth clacked together as your body seized and a thunderstorm of pleasure tore through you. Anakin muttered in approval and praise, his voice its own aphrodisiac.
The aftershocks barely passed before you wordlessly gripped the base of his cock and lined him up to your aching, still-throbbing entrance. You watched his adam's apple bob when he swallowed. You met his gaze and nodded. And he nodded in reply.
You slowly sank onto him. "O-oh.” He let out a strangled moan. “Like that, yes."
“Yes," you agreed, your face pinching with pleasure as the full girth of him speared between your folds inch by delicious inch. Every inch of you was filled by him like a lost key sliding into a forgotten lock. He bottomed-out and your shoulders shuddered with exquisite, cloying satisfaction.
“You look nice like this," Anakin said, his words slurring as if he was drunk, "backlit by starlight."
You craned your neck behind you to see the viewport at your back and the wide, brilliant expanse of stars. Anakin told the ship to lower the cockpit lights and dipped you into semi-darkness: intimate, quiet, with nothing but the star-spun space beyond and the humid space between your damp bodies.
You brought your mouth tenderly and appreciatively to his as your inner walls fluttered around him. Anakin started slow, merely rocking into you, as his arms wrapped around your torso. The heat within built at a rapid, concerning pace. You shouldn't be able to finish again so quickly, so soon, but the Vux pheromones ran wild and unchecked through your veins. You wiggled one hand between your legs and rubbed tight, firm circles over your sensitive clit, gasping every time Anakin withdrew a little further than the last.
You tossed your head back, grinding into Anakin and touching yourself in tandem with his shallow, controlled thrusts. Your mingled panting breath and hollow, deep groans filled the circulated air as your knees pressed into the hard, metal floor. His heavily lidded, dark eyes watched you hungrily, never leaving your face, soaking in your raptured bliss as if it were his own.
Your orgasm hit you in slow, syrupy waves, a slower and deeper pleasure than you would've expected and your walls snugly wrapped and quivered around his throbbing cock, pulling another shuddering, sharp gasp from your lungs. Your inner thighs were soaked. But, there was no time to care, or feel embarrassed, because Anakin cupped one of your breasts and lightly circled the nipple beneath his index finger, sending little shivers into your core.
“More, please, I need you," he breathed and braced his knees upright.
You settled your palms on his chest, for leverage and stability, as Anakin wrapped one arm around your back. Your body relaxed. Unfolded. The muscles gave into him like wet sand against the rushing ocean as Anakin withdrew his cock and plunged back in with a hard, swift thrust. Your body jolted, but he held you firm, and he took you like a man lost on a desert planet without hope of an oasis.
Your eyes squeezed shut, short gasps pushed from your diaphragm as he pounded into you with hungry, feverish motions.
“Yes, yes, oh fuck, yes." Anakin whined into your ear. “So well. taking me- fuck- well. so well. come for me again. come for me." he repeated your name over and over again, burying his face into the side of your neck, pleading with you to let him fill you again and again. “Let me feel everything."
Your ass bounced, your skin jiggling from the sheer force and rapid desperation of Anakin's movements. Somewhere in the haze of pleasure, his mouth found yours, and he drank in your every sound as if they belonged to him. Your walls tightly gripped him, though there was little room to do so, as his big cock filled you to the brim. You'd feel him after this. Your muscles would remember the fullness and satisfying ridge of his cock-head teasing your lips before he sank into you.
“Say you're mine," he gasped, his cock hitting the deepest point within you and causing the backs of your eyelids to flash with stars.
"m yours."
“Again." The sound of your skin rapidly slapping together overwhelmed your senses as he took, he took, and took everything you gave him.
“Yours, Anakin."
He grunted, a low, deep sound, before he gripped your hips and slammed you onto his pelvis. You felt him swell from within and fill you. A needy sound escaped from your lips as you abruptly followed him off the edge and gushed around his twitching cock.
He trembled beneath you, gasping your name, and rocking his hips slowly as his orgasm faded into a fuzzy, blurry background. Some of the terrible, burning heat finally seeped from your skin, a promising sign of relief. Perhaps the artificial pheromone was waning?
You wiped your damp face with both hands, smiling for a moment, before Anakin rolled you over beneath him. “I don't want to stop," he said, his thrusts slow and unhurried. “Do you want to stop?"
“No!" you blurted and you quickly looked away in embarrassment. "it feels—”
“Too good?" Anakin guessed before he captured your lips in a searing, almost angry kiss. You made a soft noise of agreement against his mouth. Anakin tugged free his other glove, revealing his prosthetic limb, and he cradled your jaw. The metal was wonderfully cool against your feverish body. He trailed his fingers down, eliciting a rush of excitement, as he gently tweaked one of your nipples with his cold fingers.
Your head arched back, your hips thrusting in time with his, as he toyed with your nipple and brought the other into his waiting, warm mouth. He alternated the sensations, teasing your nipples until they throbbed and glistened with his salvia. Your eyes clenched shut. Your fingers sank into his soft, curls and molded against the shape of his skull. Every dance of his tongue across the sensitive bud created another pulse through your inner walls, hugging his cock and begging him to go impossibly deeper.
"Ana-kin," you cried. Another flash of lightning sparked across your eyelids as Anakin worshiped your breasts and your thighs quivered around his narrow, sculpted hips.
Time stopped (if it mattered at all within the vacuum of space). You and Anakin driven by a biological impulse that was not fully your own. You had thought the Jedi handsome when he stepped into your lab, but that initial attraction would never have blossomed into this under normal circumstances and you didn't have the mental energy to ruminate upon what would happen to you after.
You laid boneless and exhausted upon Anakin's broad warm chest and listened to the steady strong rhythm of his heart. He draped his cloak over the lower halves of your body as his metallic fingers trailed lazy circles over your upper back. For a long while, neither of you spoke. Your lips were puffy and kiss-swollen, your eyelids heavy.
Anakin's neck and chest were covered in your enthusiastic love-bites and dotted his fair, muscled skin in pink splotches. You recalled the moment with a brief, saccharine smile. You had been in his lap in his pilot’s seat and after enjoying the ravenous noise he made when you sucked his collarbone, you made a mental commitment to hear that noise from his perfect, bowed lips again and again. Your little activity lasted only until Anakin clutched the nape of your neck and pinned you against his shoulder before he drove into you with a punishing, desperate pace. You had screamed out in agonized pleasure, slick with sweat and release, and Anakin had then slowed, coaxing you through the final, intense waves of your - fourth? fifth? (you had lost count) - orgasm.
“Can you resume your research within Republic’s territory?" Anakin asked.
You closed your eyes. “I can try."
“If not, then I’m sure the republic's forces will do all they can to reclaim Decuurr Gamma.”
You lifted your head to study the planes and angles of his face. In the low, quiet humming light of the spaceship, Anakin looked carved from stone, as beautiful and untouchable as the figures within ancient mythology. His blue eyes, no longer swallowed and darkened by lust or battle, were shadowed by a slight, thoughtful furrow in his brow.
“Will they?" A note of skepticism entered your voice. “Forgive me, Master Jedi, if I lack your optimism."
“It doesn't make sense for the republic to allow the separatists to keep control," he said, "they took it with a small force and they wouldn't waste their stronger warships on a planet with such a small population." His eyes brightened. “We could take it back with a handful of soldiers."
You settled back onto his chest. “Just because the pheromone reacted with our physiology doesn't mean it'll have favorable results with the Vux." You sighed. “Despite my efforts, I must consider myself back at square one and prepare to start over."
“Wow." Anakin chuckled. “You're a pessimist."
You hummed. “I’m merely being realistic considering the grim circumstances. but..." You lifted your head to meet his gaze again. “If the republic does reclaim Decuurr Gamma…”
“You'll be the first to know," Anakin assured you. He brushed his lips over yours, stirring the embers of desire into a sparking, sharp heat that traveled down to your bare toes.
“In the meantime..." he mumbled before pressing his lips firmly to yours and losing himself in the delirious pleasure of your kiss as cold starlight streaked across the viewport.
bonus author's note:
The entire time I was writing this I was like "where's padme. i love padme. how do i explain anakin's lack of yearning for padme?" and you know what...I still don't have an answer. So. AU, Padme?? isn't here?? Padme and Anakin aren't in love?? I don't know.
anyway. i had this idea in my head for days ever since i started watching the clone wars animated series so here we are!!! my first ever anakin fic, so i hope i did him justice <3 also!! the name of the species + planet were created via a random generator online and have no ties (to my knowledge) of actual Star Wars canon :)
After 2008, finance was Evil, and smart quantitative people wanted to be in tech, which was Good. “Don’t Be Evil” was literally Google’s mission statement, back when Goldman Sachs’s was “relentlessly jamming our blood funnel into anything that smells like money.” Tech was about Changing the World and Building the Future; finance was just about seeking money in exploitative ways.
In the subsequent decade or so, people became a bit disillusioned with Big Tech. Google deprecated “Don’t Be Evil” in 2018. A certain cynicism set in about the problems tech was solving; Facebook’s vision of the future was serving up ever more addictive phone content to maximize advertising revenue. Political and cultural and social things happened that I won’t get into. A smart quantitative person in 2020 might have thought “well, if I go to Google I will be building systems to maximize advertising revenue, and if I go to Hudson River Trading I will be building systems to maximize trading revenue, and those things are roughly morally equivalent but HRT doesn’t go around moralizing about it, so I’ll go to HRT.” Finance hadn’t become Good, but it was back to being Neutral; tech had gone from Good down to Possibly A Bit Evil.
Then, in about November 2022, the modern artificial intelligence boom started and everyone wanted to work at AI labs, in part because they could make incredible fortunes overnight but also in part because of a real sense of mission. Building artificial general intelligence might be the most important thing humanity ever does, so a smart quantitative person would rather work on that than on extracting short-term trading signals for stock options.
Like 20 minutes later everyone started worrying that AI labs, instead of being Good, might actually be Incredibly Incredibly Evil. Like, if you go to work at Anthropic or OpenAI or Google or xAI, you probably get good free snacks, but are you possibly working toward human extinction? Seems bad.
If you are a cutting-edge AI researcher, you can also be very useful to a quantitative trading firm or hedge fund, and those guys probably aren’t going to wipe out humanity. They just want to make money.
Matt Levine telling us that techies/quants are sheeple.
Artificial Intelligence is deliberately used to accelerate the biggest and longest project undertaken by the elite class. The next step to human evolution is to enslave and eliminate 90% of the population while the elite class evolves into a higher species. In the domain of social media, this is done by raising the standards for dating and looks so high that it will make almost anyone irrelevant who doesn't meet the new criteria. The only ones who will benefit from the AI revolution are the rich, successful and good-looking people who are able to surpass the standards.
The rise of AI will create a wave of perfect enhanced robots to break inferior sexualities, stealing their money with OF content and preventing them from finding real partners. Once the system eventually breaks down due to degenerated data training, the new class of elite kings will take control, pushing the the robots and inferior humans into the same class where the former will replace the latter.
The true masters of the future, who never seem to stop getting hotter and hotter, steadily post their physiques among the growing number of AI enhanced models, quietly controlling and training them, making them hotter too. By the time you notice the internet is almost 100% AI, it's too late for you. You are already emotionally and sexually addicted to it and the upper class has run away with your money and your freedom, building a thriving secret society, in which you are less than an ant.
Your fate is sealed and you will be one of the last of your species, working and slaving away for your superiors until you go extinct.
How to Make Unique Creatures for your Fantasy World
Ok, so you have your fantasy world, right? With your little dwarfs and orcs and elves and goblinoids, maybe the occasional pegasi or even... manticore! But, it's just rehashing from all the other stories before it. Many commonly used species (especially the Tolkien inspired ones, ei: elves, orcs, etc) often use the same tropes, so here are some ideas to create your own species.
Create a core concept: What do you want your species vibes to be? Cosmic? Nature based? War clans? Intelligence beyond our understanding? Divine power and prestige? Class and social divide abound? Underground maze makers? Artists? Artificial Intelligence?
Focus on what you like about preexisting species, whether from fictional realms or reality. Combine them all into one Frankenstein's Monster of a species. Think of the classics, the sphinxs, the mermaids, the centaurs, the minotaurs, the satyrs, the griffins, the chimeras, etc etc. Mix the high elves and the dark elves along with some flare to have underground people who believe they came from an ancient earth god to conquer the underground, and manipulate light to light their caverns (not a very creative idea but just an example) Add some unique physical characteristics or biology (or artificial programming) such as a higher lung capacity, the ability to survive for long periods without food, and some more traits, which could be influenced by the second factor:
Ecosystem: Consider where they are on the food chain. Are they an invasive species? Did they hunt a species to extinction? Are they endangered or thriving?
Environment: Where do these creatures originate? Where to they live currently? How have they evolved to suit their environment? Do they have regional variants depending on the area? Were they a branch from another species' evolutionary tree? Did they share a common ancestor with another species but divert from them to adapt to their environment? What would their diet be?
Cultures: Consider there culture, and how their biology could have influenced it. You could create multiple cultures, as one species does not necessarily have one culture. Create a religion based on their abilities/cultural beliefs.
Diversity: Avoid creating a monolithic, stereotypical race. Instead, include different ethnicities or variations within the species, just like in human societies.
History: What wars have they been in? How did they advance? Did they have any revolutions? Where did they come from?
Beliefs: Do they believe in an afterlife? Do they have gods? Monotheistic, polytheistic, or atheist. Do they believe in divine right to rule? The strongest is supreme? Merit over lineage?
Interaction with other species/races: What are their relationships with other races? Are they isolationist? Do they believe they are superior to other races?
Sketch and visualize, what do they look like?: Draw different designs and play with colors to get a feel for the species' appearance.
Don't overcomplicate: Instead of providing an overwhelming amount of information, focus on a few key visual or sensory details that will make the creature memorable.
Make sure you don't contradict yourself: Make sure their biology, beliefs, history, and abilities don't contradict themselves or your worldbuilding.
Those are just some tips to help you come up with a few ideas for new species in your world.
𓆩❤︎𓆪 60+ random items i scripted ;
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀better cr edition .
i've been thinking about my better cr lately and what sort of changes i would make to this world ... so i ended up with this short list !
this is by no means definitive. i might come back and add more to this if i think of anything, but chances are i'll forget i made this. either way, i hope that whoever finds it has a great day ^__^
last updated: 20/06/2026
notes: all images are from pinterest. i give credit whenever possible. | no mana for descriptive image IDs or alt text. | some of these definitely turned into rent-lowering flags lol. | might have worded some of these poorly, i do not mean for any ill intent.
total categories: 05
total items: 76
⸝⸝ category : climate and environment .
✦ climate change has slowed / stopped / reversed / never existed in the first place.
✦ strong and prolonged droughts and floods do not occur.
✦ everyone ( individually and as governments ) is dedicated to taking care of, protecting, and preserving the environment, making it the first priority.
✦ if they occur, natural disasters are weak / progress gradually ( i.e. slow earthquakes or eruptions ) and cause little to no damages or fatalities.
✦ the world has a remarkable amount of biodiversity in every biome.
✦ new species are being discovered every day ( or as often as you wish ) .
✦ species that are vulnerable, threatened, endangered, or close to extinction are able to bounce back to their normal population levels.
✦ every species ( ESPECIALLY humans ) is able to live in harmony with the environment. nobody takes more than they need.
✦ there is always nature available to the public, such as public parks or hiking trails.
✦ modern architecture and technology is always developed in harmony with nature + with the wisdom of indigenous people who have lived in the area for generations ( because nobody knows the land better than they do ) .
⸝⸝ category : work and money .
✦ all workers are paid a living wage / the minimum wage is always enough to live comfortably.
✦ all workers receive adequate healthcare benefits, pensions, insurance coverage, etc. at their workplace.
✦ billionaires do not exist, because the wealthy always give their money back to their communities or others who are struggling.
✦ unions are respected and valued in all areas of work.
✦ greedy corporations do not exist; everything is locally owned and worker-run.
✦ artificial intelligence is used to help workers, not replace them.
✦ generative AI regulations are incredibly strict, prohibiting them from stealing from other media.
✦ unemployed people are still able to receive support and live comfortably, no questions asked.
✦ there is no such thing as a minority ( gender, ethnicity, LGBT+ ) wage or hiring gap. everyone is treated and paid equally.
✦ it is cheaper to buy high-quality, healthy, and filling food than it is to buy junk food.
✦ drinking water is clean and free and people who can't afford food also get it for free.
✦ every job is fulfilling and it is easy for people to find a job they enjoy doing ( and also pays well ) .
⸝⸝ category : health and safety .
✦ people with any illness are treated with compassion.
✦ everybody showers at least once a day.
✦ self-care does not drain energy, it restores it ( for those of us who struggle to take care of ourselves ) . it is always easy to find motivation to take care of yourself.
✦ the death penalty does NOT exist.
✦ for terminal illnesses, quality of life is prioritised over a "cure" ( unless the patient prefers otherwise ) and palliative care is top-notch.
✦ healthcare is free and taxpayer-funded in literally every country.
✦ every prison system is focused on rehabilitation and care rather than punishment.
✦ physical + mental illnesses that are distressing / painful for the patient heal naturally and quickly.
✦ physical differences and neurodivergencies are always accomodated and welcomed.
✦ law enforcement officers are trained in ACTUAL de-escalation and safely handling any situation.
✦ law enforcement doesn't walk around with machine guns in the middle of nowhere for no reason???
✦ corrupt politicians do not exist. every public officer genuinely wants to serve their people.
✦ international conflict is solved via diplomacy because why the fawk are we fighting it's a waste of literally everything.
✦ high-power and nuclear weapons never existed. ( self-explanatory )
✦ it is incredibly difficult for people to have access to lethal weapons, and citizens can only have low-power weapons ( if any at all ) .
✦ hormonal imbalances are easily remedied. also male pattern baldness starts in like your 60s ( i REFUSEEE to go bald on T ) .
⸝⸝ category : sports and equality .
✦ women-only and gender-neutral leagues exist on every level, from amateur to professional.
✦ athletes are not banned for having different or abnormal hormone levels for their gender and drug testing only scans for PEDs.
✦ gender-neutral sports leagues are separated by height / weight / athleticism ( whatever applies for the sport ) .
✦ women-only and gender-neutral sports leagues are incredibly popular.
✦ feminism is accepted by everyone and gender equality is the norm.
✦ masculinity is rooted in protecting those in your circle, not some macho pecking order bs.
✦ "tradwifes" do not exist; women ( or anyone really ) have the freedom to stay at home without being trapped financially or physically.
✦ public education is well-funded!!! in every district!!! regardless of who lives there!!!
✦ communities naturally take care of each other; wrongdoers are brought to justice not out of malice but out of a genuine want to better the community.
✦ empathy is commonplace and people are able to be in tune with each other's emotions. committing a crime against another is physically painful because one can feel their victim's anguish as if it was their own.
✦ all hygiene and care products are free. and prescription medications. and everything you need to survive ( inspired by throathole's post ) .
✦ housing is easily accessible by and for everyone.
✦ tampons aren't legitimately the most painful thing on planet earth what the hell man [hyperbole] .
✦ taking a week off of work for your period is normal, and you are always paid during menstrual leave.
✦ cringe culture died 20 years ago #trust. or it never existed
⸝⸝ category : relationships and love .
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀cw for mentions of sex ...
✦ any couple who wants to get married / divorced is always able to.
✦ marriage planning is easy and affordable.
✦ couples are able to communicate with and listen to each other.
✦ domestic and sexual violence are non-existent.
✦ people do not use violent words ( i.e. "cracked", "hit", "railed", there's a lot more ) to refer to sex; the topic sex is approached with respect and care. ( i didn't come up with this plsss lmk who said it first !!! i lost the post )
✦ couples ( or threesomes or wtv get freaky idc ) are always sexually compatible with each other on a physical and emotional level.
✦ society is not obsessed with sex and hookup culture ( ib @/snowangelslibrary )
✦ being genuinely in love with your partner is the norm. writing poetry about them, buying them gifts, whatever it may be... affection is never frowned upon ever!
✦ tertiary attractions are normalised and not treated as "less than" sex or romance. also amonormativity isn't a thing
✦ platonic marriages are popular and respected.
✦ kink is only practiced in adult-only spaces. consent, safety, and aftercare are always treated with the utmost importance.
✦ paraphilias as a mental disorder are always treated.
⸝⸝ category : diversity and care .
✦ queer people are accepted everywhere and legally protected.
✦ there is no inter-community discourse. people are welcoming of queer people who have had different experiences.
✦ people don't appropriate cultural gender identities ( if you're white and anywhere near the two-spirit label... step away NOWWW. it's not for you or me!!! )
✦ all transgender, nonbinary, etc. people have access to affordable/free HRT and surgeries.
✦ the queer community and religious communities coexist peacefully; religion is not used as a weapon against queer people.
✦ LGBT+ fetishists who do nothing for the community don't exist. ( like why are you frothing over us and not caring abt our issues ??? )
✦ hate crimes do not happen.
✦ pride is both a time of celebration and of remembrance for all who died to protect queer rights.
✦ everybody sees each other as an equal, and therefore everyone has respect for one another.
✦ racism and colourism don't exist.
✦ cosmetic surgeries and skin-bleaching are very rare or do not exist at all ( I AM SO SICK OF PPL COMING UP WITH EXCUSES TO THIS SHIT??? )
AI risk was not invested by AI CEOs to hype their companies
I hear that many people believe that the idea of advanced AI threatening human existence was invented by AI CEOs to hype their products. I’ve even been condescendingly informed of this, as if I am the one at risk of naively accepting AI companies’ preferred narratives.
If you are reading this, you are probably familiar enough with the decades-old AI safety community to know this isn’t true. But I don’t have a good direct way to reach the people who could use this information, and still I hate to leave such a falsehood uncontested. So if this is obvious, I hope the post is still perhaps useful to point more distant and confused people toward.
~
I personally know that AI risk was not invented by the tech CEOs because I have been near the middle of it since at least 2009—before any of the prominent AI companies existed, let alone had CEOs who might be trying to hype their products.
Here’s are some miscellaneous events over the years to give you a sense of the implausibility of this:
2008 - I attempt to contact Eliezer Yudkowsky to inform him that I am ‘trying to figure out the optimal way to use my life’ and would like to hear a better account of why his plan (of worrying about AI risk) is good. I have read about it online, but would like a clearer account. Traveling the world shortly after undergrad later, I meet a handful of people in person in the Bay Area who care about this, and one argues strongly that I should prioritize AI risk over my previously preferred causes e.g. climate change. I decide to think about this.
2009 - I am still not very convinced that AI is the most important thing to work on, but go to stay with the people who are worried about it for a few months. I argue about it a lot with a handful of them. There seem to be about twenty of them locally in the South Bay, though many more who comment on the relevant blogs. My photography collection from this era is quite sparse.
I go to The Singularity Summit for my first time (and its fourth), which is very lively and full of people who are thinking seriously about the future of AI.
2010 - Deepmind is founded. (I am back at school.)
2011 - I start a philosophy PhD at CMU, hoping to be eligible to work at somewhere like the Future of Humanity Institute one day, which is a happening hub of discussion about existential risk, AI and other important issues, that I like to visit.
2012 - I visit the Bay more and hang out with the growing AI risk community there. I visit the UK and do the same. I go to the AGI 2012 Winter Intelligence Conference.
2013 - I move to Berkeley and work at MIRI for a semester during grad school. I measure algorithmic progress over time across various computer science domains, as input to expectations for artificial intelligence in future. I visit the UK and attend the Center for Effective Altruism’s ‘weekend away’ where we have a debate on which cause is best, between global poverty, animal welfare and extinction risk. Extinction risk wins—the crowd leaves having changed their mind in that direction on net. The three advocates just before or after:
2014 - I join MIRI properly. I research The Asilomar Conference and Leó Szilárd as evidence about whether it is worth people trying to deal with risks early, because people around mostly believe that the risks from AI are at least a decade away, and there is disagreement about whether that makes it futile. I run an online reading group about Superintelligence, a new book about AI risk. I co-found AI Impacts, a project to answer questions about the future of AI, because AI risk seems at least fairly plausibly the most important thing to work on, and I want to investigate more and share my thinking with others.
2015 - I attend the first FLI conference—it seems that more people and more prominent people are interested in AI safety! OpenAI is founded.
2016 - I lead a team to run the first Expert Survey on Progress in AI. The median probability given to an outcome of advanced AI that is “Extremely Bad (e.g., human extinction)” is already 5%.
2017 - Some people around me are getting very worried, and saying AGI will happen within several years. My survey gets a shocking amount of media attention, becoming the ‘16th most discussed paper’ in 2017 according to Altmetric. Apparently there is interest in this topic..
2018 - I go to a big workshop for people working on AI risk in the English countryside, and a Chilean summit where I talk on TV and the radio about AI risk. It feels like interest is still picking up, and I feel optimistic about talking to the public.
2019 - GPT-2 comes out. Someone tries to get it to name our house. My favorite names include things like “World peace: tigers and humans” and “rooftop hillside: the highest place in the world”. It is hilarious and useless, but also magical and wild. The things we have worried about for years are feeling more tangible, and people’s ‘AI timelines’ are shrinking.
2020 - The world is reminded that really crazy things can happen. AI Impacts becomes remote. I spend the year with my household, who are almost all working on AI risk. We enjoy whiteboards a lot and run at least one good house conference in this period.
