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swiggity-swexual-i-am-asexual · 29 days

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Basically, it’s discovered that to help stabilize Danielle, aka Ellie, it’d be best to have her be smaller. She refused to be turned into a kid by Frostbite/her own power ability, when Danny remembered the shrink ray his parents made. The side effect is that they’re kind of stuck as humans when they’re that small—they can use some ghost powers, but basically, it’s a weird side effect of the shrink ray. That’s canon, by the fucking way, lmao

Anyways, so Ellie agrees, and Danny will shrink himself with the ray to her size to help her out when needed/when she wants company her size, with Jazz, Sam, and Tucker occasionally helping out. Sam buys one of those really ornate Victorian dollhouses, with wooden everything, and Danny does some… renovations… so that it no longer opens and is a proper house. There’s still some oddities because it’s a dollhouse originally, but it was easier and faster to give her a home. One of the first additions was a water/wastewater system, followed like two hours later by an electrical system. Since it was so small, Danny was able to do it fairly quickly in his big size, occasionally going small and using the small window for using his powers to double check on things.

The water system had to be refilled every week, unless hooked up to a plumbing system in a house, which Danny made some outlets for in Jazz’s room—it was easier and had significantly less questions/didn’t stand out as much if placed in Jazz’s room. They usually did it every three days, though, as the plug-in process was still a bit… hinky. The tanks for holding the water were in the ‘basement’, which was mostly inaccessible from the inside of the dollhouse but basically looked like a big stand the dollhouse stayed on. Like someone ripped a full house out of the ground WITH the basement attached. There was a small access hallway down some stairs in the house for the clean water system, though.

The electric system was fairly simple, as it didn’t cost much energy to light a dollhouse and heat/cool water. There was an AC unit, Ellie’s request, but it hardly was used and was fairly efficient just due to pure size. It was fueled by ecto batteries, which Danny made sure had a few rechargability options—just because it was efficient energy didn’t mean it didn’t ever need recharging. There was a very small ecto filter, but due to its relative small size, was easy to clean and was fairly stable, so they had a whole closet of them just chilling out, both filled and empty. The battery itself could be charged by ecto sources, Danny’s own blood, or ambient ectoplasm gained by using something that looked like a solar panel and a satellite dish had a child that the batter could be placed in. The hookup also allowed for like… normal D cell batteries.

They would buy dollhouse furniture, and occasionally just buy the big version then shrink it down. Ellie had a huge old house to herself, basically, might as well go ham. And she had a fun time with the designer doll clothes Sam liked to get, although the cheap doll clothes from the store were also fun. Best option was just buying normal clothes and shrinking them, but using things that were already small or just making stuff using normal sized objects was fun.

At some point, though, the Fenton siblings decide to go on a trip. Ellie begs to be taken along, and Jazz agrees—there’s a doll showcase in Gotham, and Jazz wanted to see if anything caught Ellie’s interest. Danny, having a room in the dollhouse himself, also went along. Might as well make it a sibling’s trip, right?

Ellie can be full size for small chunks of time, which they did while exploring the expo. They found some cool things to add, and some doll clothes Ellie was far too interested in trying on, as well as some to force on Danny later. He sighed, but like—that’s his little cousin-sister, he’d put up with it. After all, he learned how to plumb an entire (miniature) house in two days when she refused to move in until it had a fully functional bathroom, so.

Anyways!

They have a fun time, and sure, lugging the relatively giant dollhouse was a PAIN, but it was Ellie’s home, and some stabilizing tech made it relatively safe to move without risking everything freaking breaking. They load everything in again, and the dollhouse is now restocked with clothes, tiny furniture, and a lot of shrunken supplies—some foods are just hard to work with full size, and are easier to shrink, okay? Also soap, paper goods, pencils and pens, books, etc. Jazz loads the thing into her car, and Danny offers to stay with Ellie in the dollhouse—so Jazz gets them in, and shrinks them down, holding onto the shrink ray in the meantime.

All is going relatively well in Gotham traffic until there’s a rogue attack.

Go figure.

Jazz ends up unconscious, and Danny and Ellie can’t do anything before the rogue is taken care of and a paramedic team comes up. They hide back in the dollhouse, listening as the medics say she seems to be okay, just unconscious. A relief, but now they’re taking Jazz away. Fenton luck states she’s one of the few actually injured. The Bat Brigade comes by, and Batman notices that there’s a wallet for one Danny Fenton. Red Robin confirms that Jazz was likely here with at least two other people, based on the ticket stubs for the expo. However, there is a strange lack of social media presence, Danny doesn’t have a photo ID, and there’s no way of knowing for SURE that it was just Danny with her, if it was just two other people, or if Danny was in the car with her. Still, as they can’t find him but DO have his sister and his wallet, they assume he might be missing, possibly kidnapped.

The Gotham PD of course take in the car, although it’s pretty trashed. Knowing well and good that the dollhouse and such things are actually quite expensive, Commissioner Gordon mentions that it wouldn’t be a bad idea for Batman to maybe hold onto the Fenton’s things that *aren’t* related to the investigation.

Batman just takes everything. Including a rather peculiar looking gun that seems to have sustained some damage during the attack and car crash.

Gordon sighs. Figures.

So, Danny and Ellie end up in Wayne Manor. Most of the things end up in the Batcave, but Alfred insists that they place the doll things upstairs in the manor proper—the cave isn’t *that* damp, but doll things are small and delicate. So, upstairs they go.

At first, it’s fine. Danny and Ellie are fine in the dollhouse, and it’ll be at least a week before any of the systems NEED to be worked with.

Then Ellie ends up with a massive migraine. She gets them, on occasion, a sort of growing pain. Usually, they just shrink some medicine for her as she needs it, because she’s like—twelve. While they did have some medicine that had been pre-shrunk, when they were stocking up in Gotham, it turns out pain medicine was more expensive there. Not by much, but they figured—they’ll just stock up in Amity Park, they’ll be there in two days.

Haha. Nope.

So, Danny finally has to venture out. He lucks into finding the first aid kit—why there was one in the main living room, he’s not sure—and is currently working on trying to get open the blister packet of an ibuprofen when Alfred finds him.

Alfred stares at this tiny boy with a tiny make-shift knife trying to get into… over the counter pain medication.

Danny stares at this butler guy who had very gently cleaned the outside and noted the strange fact that the dollhouse did not open.

Danny waves at Alfred.

Alfred waves a tiny finger back.

“Hello,” Alfred says softly, which is fantastic because loud noises could get painful—part of the reason for Ellie’s headache was an argument between Tim and Damian. “How do you do?”

Danny hesitates, before he makes an exaggerated so-so gesture.

“You understand me?”

Danny nods—it’s rare for people to understand what he’s saying when he’s 5 inches tall.

“How wonderful,” Alfred smiles. “And how can I help our young guest tonight?”

Danny gestures to the blister packet.

“Pain medication? Isn’t that a little bit large for you.”

The teen thinks for a second on how to communicate. He points to the pill, then makes a slight show of pretending to grind something, like a mortar and pestle.

Thankfully, Alfred got the idea. “Would it be easier if I ground it up for you?”

Danny takes a moment to think before accepting with an enthusiastic nod.

“Very well,” Alfred says, taking the blister packet in one hand. He then hold his other out, palm up, like a platform. “Would you like to come with me?”

Danny ‘his survival instincts died when he did’ Fenton gets into Alfred’s hand.

Alfred grinds up the pill into a fine powder. Danny hands him a tiny bottle—still large in Danny’s hands, as it was not a shrunk bottle—that he had tied around his waist. Alfred fills it, and hands it back.

“I assume you came from the tiny house we have in our living room?”

Danny again nods. Alfred takes him there, setting him down outside the front door. Danny bows, and sure it’s Japanese as hell, and he’s white as all get out, but it’s a generally understood gesture of thanks. He hopes.

Alfred understands it just fine. “I bid you goodnight, then. Perhaps we will talk more, when you are feeling better?”

Danny hesitates, again, but he nods. Alfred had been nice enough, so far.

Danny heads in, quickly measuring out the medicine—shrunk pressure plates and scales and weights made what it was measuring relative—to him the weights on the hand balance scale felt the same weight. Ellie got her medicine, and they both went back to sleep.

He told her in the morning what happened. Ellie was strangely gung-ho about meeting this butler guy, and so—when no one else was around—, she and Danny went onto the tiny balcony as Alfred came in to dust.

“Oh my,” he said. “There’s two of you, now. Should I expect more?”

Both of them did an exaggerated ‘no’ dance.

“Very well, I don’t believe I’ve introduced myself. I’m Alfred Pennyworth, the family butler. Welcome to Wayne Manor.”

#dp x dc #dpxdc #dc x dp #danny phantom #prompt #I’m clearing out my notes and idk if I’ll continue this but figured it worked out well for a prompt?#do as you will

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legobiwan · 1 year

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For a writing prompt: maybe something with Luigi and polterpup? Or just Luigi and ghosts in general. The fact that ghosts are Real and Present in that world has always been super fascinating and a little upsetting to me haha. Could be as light or as angsty as you wish I just think Luigi being terrified of ghosts and having to (or in polterpup’s case, choosing to) be around them constantly is a fun concept to toy around with.

Apologies this took so long, anon. I vastly underestimated the demands of my travel schedule over the past few weeks. Oof. But now we're back!

Minor TWs in this one for general talk of death, existentialism, and broad references to both animal and child death (nothing graphic, nothing extreme, no on-screen death).

~~~~~~~~~~~

Of Ghosts and the Afterlife (Luigi’s Mansion 1)

Luigi didn’t like to think about death.

Not that there was much he could do about it. Death was as inevitable as a subway car with broken air conditioning on a hundred-degree day.

There was no such thing as the afterlife, Luigi having long ago abandoned the faith his brother and what remained of their family clung to, a practice more cultural than spiritual, steeped in the mores and traditions of a country and people he shared little in common with beyond his last name and an untamable mane of wavy, thick brown hair.

For Luigi, death was death - game over, end of the line, see you never. A philosophical problem he didn’t enjoy contemplating, but one he could easily shove into a forgotten closet of his subconscious, the more pressing concerns of his daily life taking up his mental energies, banal things like scraping up enough plumbing jobs to pay the rent, dealing with corroded spark plugs in the repair van, and being forced make a meal of the questionable meatball subs from the corner bodega.

Death was death. Religion was religion. And ghosts were…a fairytale, a folklore conjured to rationalize away the heavy weight of existential dread. That, or something used as a cudgel, to keep people on the side of moral righteousness, lest they be doomed to walk the earth for all eternity in the shadows of existence.

Ghosts were a thought experiment. A fun diversion in a cramped Bensonhurst studio, the heating bill long unpaid, he and his brother buried under a set of fraying blankets, their father’s hefty industrial flashlight in hand, competing to see who could scare the other the most as the D Train rattled its metal bones past their window at two in the morning.

Mario was good at stories. (Mario was good at everything). And it wasn’t that Luigi was afraid of the spirits his brother would describe in gruesome detail, the way they’d seep through cracks and keyholes, wrapping their grey, misty arms around skinny, lost children who kept too many secrets. No. He couldn’t be afraid because ghosts weren’t real.

Not until he had been unceremoniously dumped into the Mushroom Kingdom, that was.

He could deal with the existence of Boos. Well, that wasn’t entirely true, but he could at least assign them a category outside the paranormal. Boos were just another strange species, a bunch of floating marshmallows that looked like ghosts and acted like ghosts, but in no way were actual ghosts. Boos were something real, something alive, but beyond Earth’s limited taxonomies, just like everything else in this impossible world of talking mushrooms and tyrant turtles and evil wizards and booted dinosaurs and a million-and-one things that could leap out with fangs or fire or spikes and kill you at any moment -

Death, he had once nervously told his brother over a campfire on the outskirts of Toad Town, felt like it had become a way of life.

The letter had arrived on a crisp autumn morning, the early sunlight peeking through the gaps of Luigi’s drawn curtains. He remembered thinking it was a clean kind of light, unsullied by the drudgery of heavy coats and thick scarves, of greying slush and oily puddles pooling in the gutter, cigarette butts bobbing up and down like the stained buoys off Brighton Beach. Life had been, if not normal (he didn’t think he’d ever consider his existence in the Mushroom Kingdom normal), at least less chaotic than usual. There had been no invasions, no kidnappings, no pleas from neighboring kingdoms for help. For the first time in a long time, his daily routine was…pedestrian. A little boring, even. It was a nice change of pace.

He should have known better. Did know better.

No one gave away mansions.

Yeah, and I’m sure they also have a bridge in Brooklyn they’d like to sell me he had muttered, crumpling up the notice, tossing it into a dented, mushroom-shaped garbage pail without another look as he groped for a gurgling coffee pot.

Three days later, a short, wiry old man was thrusting a souped-up vacuum into his hands, blathering all kinds of nonsensical instructions about ectoplasm and strobe lights and hearts and all that Luigi could think through the high-pitched static descending on onto his brain is that my brother is in danger and holy shit this entire mansion is filled with actual, real ghosts.

There was no time to wrap his head around the metaphysics of it all, the very real danger of being killed by an entire army of irate specters overriding any considerations as to the how or why of the entire situation. Ghosts apparently existed, not only as Boos, but as colorful, globulous forms, as cantankerous old knitting women, as mechanical, murderous toy soldiers, and worst of all, as small children and even screaming babies, the terrible implications of which rattled around Luigi’s already frenzied consciousness as he sucked the heart from a wailing infant, in all likelihood murdering it a second time. (A hazy memory had surfaced, a small, doll-like figure laid on a cheap, linoleum kitchen table, legs unstable as a small cadre of extended relatives wept and laid kisses on the child’s forehead. Forty and eight hour, their great-grandmother had commanded in broken English. To be sure the true dead. Spirito.)

It had been less than twenty-four hours, he reminded himself. Mario wasn’t dead. Or undead. Or whatever. Not according to tradition, and certainly not according to Luigi’s empirical observations (which seemed to be holding less and less weight as the paranormal evening drew on). No, he had seen his brother through the marble fangs of the dragon’s head. He was in the painting, banging for his life against an invisible prison of oils and canvas, his mouth open in a silent scream.

A victim of magic, but not a ghost.

Not if Luigi had anything to say about it.

He ran. Up broken, splintering sets of stairs; down dimly-lit corridors with threadbare rugging; through trap doors and flocks of toothy, golden bats, vacuum hose at the ready, sucking away at anything even resembling a ghost (how many curtains, how many dresses and bedsheets had he whisked into shreds all because of the ripple of a breeze or a trick of the light?)

He fought his way through chamber after chamber, slurping phantasms from earthly existence, unwilling to consider just what he’s damning his enemies to, if he’s killing them again, if they can feel pain or remorse, if this whole situation is maybe a figment of his imagination and in reality he’s back in Brooklyn, or worse, committed to a padded cell in Bellevue, colorful apparitions dancing on blank, white walls, the evidence of a broken mind.

He found his brother’s portrait hung in a baroque, gilded antechamber, the room something as alien as the specters he had been fighting, his grimy boots sinking into blood-red, lush carpeting as gems and pearls and other precious-looking stones twinkled in the light of a silver candelabra.

The keeper of Mario’s canvas prison turned to greet him, a gargantuan Boo with a jeweled crown named “King Boo” - an uninspired moniker if there ever was one - who pontificated at length, swearing vengeance on both Mario and Luigi, demanding reparations in blood and soul for crimes Luigi couldn’t even begin to understand, no less remember.

Did I kill him? Luigi had panicked, rooted to the spot, Poltergust in hand as the Boo continued his long-winded diatribe. Is that why he’s a ghost? Did Mario do something? Luigi tried not to think too hard about the ethical dilemmas of their adventures, of their roles as protectors of the Mushroom Kingdom. Sure, people got hurt, that was the nature of the beast, but…

It didn’t matter, not when King Boo conjured a several-story tall likeness of Bowser, whisking Luigi through a portal to the stark rooftop of the dilapidated mansion to engage in a twisted game of cat-and-mouse (ghost-and-plumber), the giant Koopa puppet doing its best to stomp Luigi into a fiery, broken heap of ashes.

He escaped with his life. That, and the promise of retribution from beyond the grave, King Boo spitting all forms of vile epithets and visions of eternal pain as Luigi sucked the last of his bulbous form into the squealing, smoking Poltergust.

When Mario was spat from E. Gadd’s printing machine, tumbling across the floor in a confused pile of limbs - his brother, real, corporal and definitely not dead - Luigi didn’t know whether to laugh or cry.

He never wanted to see - never wanted to think about another ghost again in his life.

Of Dogs (Luigi’s Mansion 2)

He supposed it made sense. In a way.

After all, if there were Boos, if there were ghost adults and ghost children and ghost babies - there were bound to be ghost dogs. Maybe ghost cats, as well. Hell, maybe an entire ghost civilization living (dying?) in tandem with his own flesh-and-blood world.

He hated the idea. It trampled on every tenet of thermodynamics he had carved into his brain at the age of ten, made a mockery of the physics and chemistry and engineering that had carried him through adolescence and into adult life.

The Mushroom Kingdom - that was something he had at least managed to rationalize, had begun to construct a loose schematic for, notebooks upon notebooks filled with messy diagrams and rambling equations, an inadequate translation to his Earth-bound science, but one that allowed him to find some kind of solid footing in this incomprehensible new dimension.

Ghosts did not fit into his neatly constructed template.

Least of all, ghost dogs.

Of course, the dog had to eat the key and run away, leading Luigi on a wild goose chase (he dearly hoped there was no such thing as ghost geese). He ran pellmell through gardens, through labs, through a series of mansions and other haun -

Other decidedly creepy spots in the Evershade Valley. Places where he was left to battle groups of angry, globulous…shadows. Specters. Phantoms. Spirits. Poltergeists.

Ghosts.

Again.

He would have been angry if he weren’t so terrified.

The dog, as much trouble as he was (He? She? Did it matter?) had at least not fallen under the spell of the Dark Moon, making him the Least Frightening Ghost of this particular run-in with the ethereal undead and King Boo.

And Luigi could almost get himself to…well…maybe not like him, but tolerate him. Even though the dog ate his keys, left messy trails of crumbs and soggy, half-eaten baguettes, slobbered all over Luigi’s pants, and managed at least once to urinate in a public fountain, a phenomenon Luigi would be puzzling over for months after the fact.

Best of all, the dog, unlike almost everyone else here, wasn’t bent on killing him.

He was just a normal dog.

Who happened to be a ghost.

Luigi wondered if he had had a family in life. Children to grow up with. A big house with a yard. He acted more like a puppy than an adult dog, his exuberant chaos reminiscent of the little Golden Retriever pup his second cousins had gotten when their family moved out to the Island. Oyster Bay, he remembers, real fancy stuff. Sal and Tony’s house had had trees. A garage. Separate bedrooms. He and Mario had begged for a dog for weeks after visiting, shuffling furniture around their tiny-windowed room, marking out places in purple chalk for the dog’s water bowl, his kibble, his toys.

Their father had grunted at the proposal, noting the two brothers would have to sleep in the same bed to make the space for their imaginary new pet. This ain’t no place for a dog, you two. You want animals, get a job with the pound. What, you’re still going to beg? Santa Maria. You two share that bed for a week without beating each other up and then come back to me. But I don’t like the odds. You boys haven’t shared a bed since you were seven. Five’ll get you ten you last forty-eight hours before someone’s fist is in the other one's face.

They lasted three whole days before Luigi had planted his foot in Mario’s kidneys at two in the morning.

They never saw the dog in Oyster Bay again.

A car accident, real unfortunate stuff, Aunt Maria had told them later.

The memory haunted Luigi as he unholstered the Poltergust, forcing his fingers to twist dials and push at levers. He needed that key. It wasn’t just his life on the line if he failed.

He squeezed his eyes shut as he sucked the ghost dog into the machine, trying his absolute best to ignore the little whines and terrified yips of the struggling not-animal. After what felt like an eternity, he heard the tell-tale “pop” of the Poltergust, signaling his success in capturing yet another ghost, the silver key clanging to the cobble-stoned ground.

Luigi had never felt less heroic in his life.

I just think he wanted someone to play with, E. Gadd had commented offhandedly later, emptying the Poltergust's canister into the gigantic silver ghost vault with his usual detached efficiency, oblivious to the way Luigi's features had paled at the comment.

When he got word of the dog’s escape a few hours later, Luigi didn’t even try to deny his relief.

Of Half-Lives and Vengeance (Luigi’s Mansion 3)

Fatigue. Carelessness. Hubris. Naivete.

Or maybe it had just been sheer stupidity.

An invitation to vacation at an exclusive, luxury hotel, addressed to him.

Nice things never happened to Luigi. Or if they did, he could hardly enjoy them, waiting on tenterhooks for the other boot to fall.

The boot fell that evening. It was ghosts. Of course, it was. Nearly twenty floors of ghosts. At this point, he could say he was almost used to it, the creeping shiver up his spine, the gluey residue of ectoplasm which would leave him tattooed with ugly, mottled rashes for weeks on end.

Once again, he had to act as a one-man army against the mass of spectral, malevolent will. Once again, his brother had been trapped in a painting.

There were differences, of course. Polterpup was by his side, the ethereal puppy proving more loyal to Luigi than his fellow spirits. (Luigi could never say Polterpup was "his" in the way most pet owners would lay claim to a regular cat or dog. The ghost puppy had a disturbing tendency to disappear for weeks, sometimes months on end, only to make his return in the most startling manner possible, more than once sending Luigi screaming, flailing off his bed at some weird, inconvenient hour of the night. But for as much as Polterpup could have a "home" - Luigi's house was it).

Luigi also had the help of his pseudo-clone, Gooigi, a horrifying creation of E. Gadd's, an unholy combination of ghostly discharge (the nature of which Luigi did not want to know), coffee, and, Luigi's own biological samples. An impossible being with whom he shared an inexplicable telepathic connection, and if Luigi had had any semblance of a minute to consider what that all meant (was he part ghost now? Could Gooigi outlive him? Would he maintain that consciousness after death?) he would have likely run screeching into the night.

(The fact Gooigi had proven essential to his continued existence did not distract from the wildly dubious ethics behind Gooigi's creation, an issue Luigi was definitely going to have a long talk with E. Gadd about at some point. If he could manage to broach the topic without falling into a breathless panic).

But the most striking aspect of his third encounter with King Boo and his minions, something that wriggled at the base of Luigi's cerebellum as he fought floor upon gimmicky floor the largest array of ghouls he encountered yet, was the element of premeditation.

King Boo had easily disposed of Mario, the Princess, and the Toads during their first midnight encounter. Sure, Luigi had escaped down a laundry chute, chest heaving as he toppled onto a pile of dirty towels. But that shouldn't have posed an issue for this crazed version of King Boo, a being who could literally phase through walls.

Luigi should have been dead, or worse than dead, ten times over.

No, King Boo had decided to wait. To draw out the deep, sustained hum of terror far beyond its final breath.

Security cameras were posted everywhere in the hotel. Luigi had no doubt the ghostly tyrant was following his every move, watching, salivating as he fought and struggled against Egyptian gods and malevolent Mozarts, and bearded, Bayou beasts. (Were these the literal souls of the departed? Was Mozart truly in these walls? Or was this like a ghost Halloween, a once-in-a-deathtime opportunity to fulfill that longing urge to finally be someone who you will never be?)

(He remembers being six years old. Remembers dressing as his brother for Halloween, Luigi stealing Mario's iconic red t-shirt, his parents pleading with him to go as anything else - a spider, a rat, a baseball player - Luigi refusing each entreaty. The other boys aren't going to like it, Luigi, his mother had said, consonants slurring. You're going to get the snot pounded out of you, Dad had added a beat later).

(In the end, he had thrown an old floral bedsheet over his head, not even bothering to cut out eyeholes. I'm a ghost! Luigi had boasted. You're a loser, Vinny Malanga had laughed).

And worst part of it was, Luigi knew it. Knew he could turn any corner, go down any dark hallway and be met with that signature violet gemstone, that bladed, fanged smile ready to slam an empty frame down on his head and trap him for all eternity in oil and canvas.

Death waited in every shadow.

And King Boo was going to enjoy every minute of it.

Of Death (Epilogue)

Luigi thought he knew death. After three, separate encounters with buildings chock full of the undead, after countless hours spent in the company of the best paranormal researcher he knew (the only one he knew, admittedly), after providing part-time shelter for a genuine ghost puppy, after meeting his half-undead clone - Luigi considered himself, if not comfortable, at least conversant in the hows and whys of the afterlife.

One day, he tried to stop a wedding between a princess and a monster.

Death, he would learn, was only the beginning.

#hello there #ask legobiwan #luigi #polterpup #writing #the eternal struggle #i'm not sure WHAT this is guys #but enjoy luigi's mansion stuff with some luigi backstory thrown in #note luigi's halloween costume is based on something i did for real when i was an undergrad #just threw a sheet on my head and said ghost!#luckily it was music school and everyone was insane #yes the ending to this is 100% an spm reference #i had more material with dimentio but jt didnt fit with this so i cut it #lets just say i have a TAXONOMY of tje mario verse afterlife going

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mostlysignssomeportents · 2 years

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Decrapify cookie consent dialogs with the Consent-O-Matic

Remember when they sneered at Geocities pages for being unusable eyesores? It's true, those old sites had some, uh, idiosyncratic design choices, but at least they reflected a real person's exuberant ideas about what looked and worked well. Today's web is an unusable eyesore by design.

Start with those fucking “sign up for our newsletter” interruptors. Email is the last federated protocol standing, so everyone who publishes is desperate to get you to sign up to their newsletter, which nominally bypasses Big Tech’s chokepoint on communications between creators and audiences. Worst part: they’re wrong, email’s also been captured:

https://doctorow.medium.com/dead-letters-73924aa19f9d

Then there’s the designer’s bizarre and sadistic conceit that “black type on a white background” is ugly and “causes eye-strain.” This has led to an epidemic of illegible grey-on-white type that I literally can’t read, thanks to a (very common) low-contrast vision disability:

https://uxmovement.com/content/why-you-should-never-use-pure-black-for-text-or-backgrounds/

Often grey-on-white type sins are compounded with minuscule font sizing. You can correct this by increasing the font size from teeny-weeny-eyestrain-o-rama to something reasonable, but when you do, all the static elements on the page size up with the text, so the useless header and footer bars filled with social media buttons and vanity branding expand to fill the whole screen.

This, in turn, is made a billion times worse by the absurd decision to hide scrollbars (shades of Douglas Adams’ description of airports where they “expose the plumbing on the grounds that it is functional, and conceal the location of the departure gates, presumably on the grounds that they are not”).

https://www.goodreads.com/quotes/3205828-it-can-hardly-be-a-coincidence-that-no-language-on

Scrolling a window (without using RSI-inflaming trackpad gestures) is now the world’s shittiest, most widely played video-game, a hand-eye coordination challenge requiring sub-pixel accuracy and split-second timing to catch the scroll-bar handle in the brief, flashing instant where blips into existence:

https://twitter.com/doctorow/status/1516136202235043841

One of the scariest things about the precarity of Firefox is the prospect of losing some of the customizations and stock features I rely on to decrapify the web — stuff I use so often that I sometimes forget that it’s not how everyone uses the web:

https://www.wired.com/story/firefox-mozilla-2022/

[Image ID: Two side-by-side screenshots comparing the default layout of a wired.com article ('The intoxicating pleasure of conspiratorial thinking' by Virginia Heffernan) with the same article in Firefox's Reader Mode.]

For example, there’s Firefox’s Reader Mode: a hotkey that strips out all the layout and renders the text of an article as a narrow, readable column in whatever your default font is. I reach for ctrl-alt-r so instinctively that often the publisher’s default layout doesn’t register for me.

Reader Mode (usually) bypasses interruptors and static elements, but Firefox isn’t capable of deploying Reader Mode on every site. The Activate Reader View plugin can sometimes fix this:

https://addons.mozilla.org/en-US/firefox/addon/activate-reader-view/

But when it can’t there’s my favorite, indispensable Javascript bookmarklet: Kill Sticky, which hunts through the DOM of the page you’ve got loaded and nukes any element that is tagged as “sticky” — which generally banishes any permanent top/bottom/side-bars with a single click:

https://github.com/t-mart/kill-sticky

A recent addition to my arsenal is Cookie Remover. Click it once and it deletes all cookies associated with the page you’ve currently loaded. This resets the counter on every soft paywall, including the ones that block you from using Private Browsing. Click this once, then reload, and you’re back in business:

https://addons.mozilla.org/en-US/firefox/addon/cookie-remover/

Today, I added another plug-in to my decrapification rotation: Consent-O-Matic, created by researchers at Denmark’s Aarhus University. Consent-O-Matic identifies about 50 of the most commonly deployed GDPR tracking opt-out dialog boxes and automatically opts you out of all tracking, invisibly and instantaneously:

https://consentomatic.au.dk/

We shouldn’t need Consent-O-Matic, but we do. The point of the GDPR was to make tracking users painful for internet companies, by forcing them to break down all the different data they wanted to gather and the uses they wanted to put it to into a series of simple, yes/no consent requests. The idea was to create boardroom discussions where one person said, “OK, let’s collect this invasive piece of data” and someone else could say, “Fine, but that will require us to display eight additional dialog boxes so we’ll lose 95% of users if we do.”

https://pluralistic.net/2021/11/26/ico-ico/#market-structuring

What’s more, the GDPR said that if you just bypassed all those dialog boxes (say, by flipping to Reader Mode), the publisher had to assume you didn’t want to be tracked.

But that’s not how it’s worked. A series of structural weaknesses in European federalism and the text of the GDPR itself have served to encrapify the web to a previously unheard-of degree, subjecting users to endless cookie consent forms that are designed to trick you into opting into surveillance.

Part of this is an enforcement problem. The EU Commission we have today isn’t the Commission that created the GDPR, and there’s a pervasive belief that the current Commission decided that enforcing their predecessors’ policies wasn’t a priority. This issue is very hot today, as the Commission considers landmark rules like the Digital Services Act (DSA) and the Digital Markets Act (DMA), whose enforcement will be at the whim of their successors.

The failures of EU-wide enforcement is compounded by the very nature of European federalism, which gives member states broad latitude to interpret and enforce EU regulations. This is most obviously manifested in EU member states’ tax policies, with rogue nations like Luxembourg, Malta, the Netherlands and Ireland vying for supreme onshore-offshore tax haven status.

Not surprisingly, countries whose tax-codes have been hijacked by multinational corporations and their enablers in government are likewise subject to having their other regulations captured by the companies that fly their flags of convenience.

America’s biggest Big Tech giants all pretend to be headquartered in Ireland (which, in turn, allows them to pretend that their profits are hovering in a state of untaxable grace far above the Irish Sea). These same companies ensured that Ireland’s Data Protection Commissioner’s Office is starved of cash and resources. Big Tech argues that their Irish domicile means that anyone who wants to complain about their frequent and enthusiastic practice of wiping their asses with the text of the GDPR has to take it up with the starveling regulators of Ireland.

That may change. Max Schrems — whose advocacy gave rise to the GDPR in the first place — has dragged the tech giants in front of German regulators, who are decidedly more energetic than their Irish counterparts:

https://pluralistic.net/2020/05/15/out-here-everything-hurts/#noyb

The new EU tech competition laws — the DMA and DSA — aim to fix this, shoring up enforcement in a way that should end these “consent” popups. They also seek to plug the GDPR’s “legitimate purpose” loophole, which lets tech companies spy on you and sell your data without your consent, provided they claim that this is for a “legitimate purpose.”

But in the meantime, GDPR consent dialogs remain a hot mess, which is where Consent-O-Matic comes in. Consent-O-Matic automates away the tedious work of locating all the different switches you have to click before you truly opt out of consent-based tracking. This practice of requiring you to seek out multiple UI elements is often termed a “Dark Pattern”:

https://dl.acm.org/doi/pdf/10.1145/3313831.3376321

But while “Dark Pattern” has some utility as a term-of-art, I think that it’s best reserved for truly sneaky tactics. Most of what we call “Dark Patterns” fits comfortably in under the term “fraud.” For example, if “Opt Out of All” doesn’t opt out of all, unless you find and toggle another “I Really Mean It” box, that’s not a fiendish trick, it’s just a scam.

Whether you call this “fraud” or a “Dark Pattern,” Consent-O-Matic has historic precedent that suggests that it could really make a difference. I’m thinking here of the original browser wars, where Netscape and Internet Explorer (and others like Opera) fought for dominance on the early web.

That early web had its own crapification: the ubiquitous pop-up ad. Merely opening a page could spawn dozens of pop-ups, some of them invisible 1px-by-1px dots, others that would run away from your cursor across the screen if you tried to close them, and they’d all be tracking you and auto-playing 8-bit music.

The pop-up ad was killed by the pop-up blocker. When browsers like Mozilla and Opera started blocking pop-ups by default, users switched to them in droves. That meant that an ever-smaller proportion of web users could even see a pop-up, which meant that advertisers stopped demanding pop-ups. Publishers — who knew their readers hated pop-ups but were beholden to advertisers to keep the lights on — were finally able to convince advertisers that pop-ups were a bad idea. Why pay for ads that no one will see?

Pop-up blockers are an early example of Adversarial Interoperability, AKA Competitive Compatibility (comcom for short). That’s the practice of improving an existing product or service by making an add-on or plug in that changes how it behaves to make it more responsive to its users’ interests, without permission from the original manufacturer:

https://www.eff.org/deeplinks/2019/10/adversarial-interoperability

It’s been more than 20 years since the Platform for Privacy Preferences (P3P) tried to get tech companies to voluntarily recognize and honor their users’ privacy choices. It failed:

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/P3P

Do Not Track, another attempt to do the same, did not fare much better:

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Do_Not_Track

But you know what actually worked? Tracker-blockers and ad-blockers, “the largest consumer boycott in history”:

https://www.eff.org/deeplinks/2019/07/adblocking-how-about-nah

Making it impossible to track users is of great assistance to efforts to make it illegal to track users. Tools like Consent-O-Matic change the “security economics” of crapification, by turning the consent theater of illegal cookie popups into actual, GDPR-enforceable demands by users not to be tracked:

https://doctorow.medium.com/automation-is-magic-f4c1401d1f0d

Decrapifying the web is a long, slow process. It’s not just using interoperability to restore pluralism to the web, ending the era of “five giant websites, each filled with screenshots of text from the other four”:

https://twitter.com/tveastman/status/1069674780826071040

It’s also using a mix of technology and regulation to fight back against deliberate crapification. Between Consent-O-Rama, Reader Mode, Kill Sticky and Cookie Remover, it’s possible to decrapify much of your daily browsing and substantially improve your life.

[Image ID: A GDPR consent dialog with a rubber stamp in the center depicting a snarling man flipping the bird.]

#pluralistic #plural system

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beautifulhigh · 2 months

Text

The update for @oldfarmwitch if no one else...

Last time on "Jen's grand plans"...

Clean kitchen, all going well. Happy Jen. (This will not last.)

Order the new tap I want for my kitchen sink because the current one is leaking at every joint and I think in places where there isn't one...

Discover we can't move the fridge on the wheels due to them being offset so the wheel braces are sitting like / \. In the process of discovering this both me AND my dad received injuries

Couldn't find the water stopcock. Took apart cupboards, moved the washing machine (more on that in a bit), found it behind a fucking panel

Discovered that one of the cupboards is rotting away due to ill fitting pipes

Struggled to move the washing machine, only for Jen to later realise that they forgot to unplug the fucking thing which was why it was a chore. Therefore the plug had been ripped out of the socket, but not before the socket had been ripped out of the back of the cupboard it was (barely) attached to.

Failed to have any food in the evening because I was just Done™ with the whole thing and went to bed.

This morning on "Jen's LOLZ life":

Woke up, ankle still hurts. Just great. I don't want to move so I stay in bed as long as possible

Get up just in time for Dad coming over. He has brought EVERY tool he has and most of his plumbing kit.

His plan: sort out the cupboard and then tackle the sink and its pipes.

Cupboard panel comes apart in Dad's hands. Whoops. We manage to get the new feet in place and get it level. It was a great time to discover it's also holding up the end of the unit so that will need resealing on the tiles.

Washing machine goes back into its hole.

Look to the pipework. Dad has the wrong sized... things. They're elbow shaped so I shall call them Elbow Things. Anyway, the Elbow Things are 10mm, we need 15mm. Look online but can't get anything this side of the holiday weekend.

Go off to this little plumbing shop Dad knows. They don't have any either. Go to B&Q to have a look at what they have (we'd checked their site but Dad wanted to check out what I shall call Flexi Pipes). While there we talk about the tap that's coming and I find a picture online where a reviewer took a photo of what came in the box.

I suddenly love unboxing videos because thank you.

Dad realises that we can get away without the Elbow Things because the tap is coming with its own Flexi Pipes and so we can use Straight Things instead. He knows he has one, so we pick up another in B&Q.

At checkout, Dad realises his wallet is in the car. (No, really.). That's fine, I'm a modern girl, I have a pay app on my phone. Which doesn't want to connect to the machine. Takes three attempts to pay for the £2.50 Straight Thing.

Get home, Dad is now under the sink. Plan: heat up the pipes to break the seal, put in the Straight Things, wait for the tap to be delievered.

Universe: LOLZ

The water is turned off, all pipes are drained.

Washing machine comes out, that's drained too.

The sink pipework is VERY tight and crammed in together so we have to take the washing machine back out so he can get that pipework out of the way.

One pipe is fine, the other one has Separation Anxiety and will not let go.

Washing maching goes back in to give more working space in the kitchen as when it's out it cuts off access to the other side of the room (think galley style kitchen, long and somewhat narrow).

I realise I haven't eaten all day. I've had a caffeine drink and I've had two lots of paracetamol (because ankle). Just Eat is now becoming my most-used app. Sorry to my bank account and to my trainer.

Dad is swearing up a storm. He used to be a sailor. People forget that. The second pipe will not move and he's burned the back of the cupboard and he almost melted the U bend thingy that comes down from the sink. He takes the U bend thingy off, takes off the drawers and facias of the cover, and gets in there with some Proper Tools. The pipe is cut - no conscious uncoupling here.

Nice man arrives with my lunch.

Dad imparts instructions for how to get the sink out of the unit. The waching machine comes back out again because we need to get at the clips under the sink.

Dad leaves because it's his brother-in-law's birthday. I sit down and INHALE my Greggs sandwich. I also bought treats. Again, sorry to my trainer. Sent @wtfuckevenknows a few voice notes with a short summary of what has happened before this point.

The water is back on but my kitchen sink is no longer plumbed in. Neither is the washing machine. I use the bath tap to get a bucket of hot water and put soap in so I can finish cleaning the oven and the racks which have been marinading in the cleaning stuff overnight.

The rack bag has leaked and some of the fluid soaked into and stained the wooden shelf I put it on.

I manage to mostly dismantle the over door to properly clean it, but the latches for the door to come off will not move. I do the best I can.

I have to go back upstairs to refill the bucket and I'm doing the cleaning outside on my wooden decking which gets slippery when wet.

My ankle still hurts and yells at me when I slip a little. This is also the ankle I have broken twice, although I didn't know I'd broken it twice until I broke it for what I thought was the first time and then ortho then showed me on the X-Ray where the old break was and how the new break was actually just me re-breaking it although not as badly. That was an interesting moment a decade ago.

Anway. Ankle is not broken but it's not happy.

Oven is now cleaned although I have the bowl of the goop that I scraped out of the bottom of the oven to dispose of. It needs to be diluted with a lot of soapy water and that's another trip up the stairs.

I use the bucket I have to dispose of the fluid in the cleaning bag and go to pour it in the outside drain, only to find out that's blocked when it all overspills.

I don't want to do this again with the stuff from the oven.

I also bought more treats from Greggs (very, very sorry, trainer) and I inhale two caramel shortbreads while I load up Tumblr and see that @oldfarmwitch is wondering how my day is going.

I sit down with my laptop and I type what is absolutely going to be tagged with "long post" because I can't even see the top of THIS bullet point list.

So I now need to put the over back together, then I need to get the sink out of the unit. That involves:

Cutting the current sealant

Removing the remaining clips

Lifting it out of the hole

Cleaning down the sink and the worksurface with remover which then has its own, bespoke clean up process which will allow further sealant to be applied. If I do not clean this up properly then no future sealant will, well, seal.

Removing the tap from the sink and waiting for the new one to arrive. Which, given the family's Easter plans, will be Monday morning when Dad has a "bit of spare time".

I still need to prime and paint the walls. The masking tape I put up yesterday isn't sticking properly to some of the window facias and is falling away already so that will be fun

There is more of my kitchen in the living room and more to come yet. Because I figured the Universe owed me a break I put £10 on the EuroMillions last night.

I won £6.20.

So that's where I'm at. New tag for these posts because yeah.

#Jen's LOLZ life #long post

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subspaceember · 10 months

Text

Things I do not understand about the design of my parents house

Bathroom

The shower head is mounted a foot too low. I'm around 5'10 and my eye level is right where the pipe comes out of the wall. (This is the case for every shower in the house) which means the water starts to hit you around your nipples

The toilet paper holder thing is in between the toilet and the tub and requires an uncomfortable reach, actually hard to use, and so no one does

None of the towel racks are within reach of the tub, there's one on the opposite end of the room and on the opposite side of the toilet

There is a fan - however it just vents into the attic - no actual vent was ever installed - also it's the scariest looking fan ever made, you can put your hand through it. The one downstairs was a complete afterthought, when we moved in there was just a random plug hanging out of the ceiling that went to the fan - which vents into the drop ceiling... of the basement

That's right the bathroom that's in a basement and has no window that can open and also used to have carpet in a house with no HVAC system has NO FUNCTIONAL VENT FAN

There is a window - it's just a regular window that faces the front lawn, so hopefully no one's out there. There's blinds on it, but they're mounted away from the window so you can still absolutely see in if you stand in the right spot

It has an absurd amount of countertop - not really a bad thing, but it's very overkill for a bathroom

The soap tile thing came off the wall and refused to be glued back on - so there's just a big duct tape patch there now

General

The entire downstairs is drop ceiling, yup like an office building.

On top of that the entire downstairs was originally only lit by single bulb fixtures, like for closets, just bare bulbs in a dark, damp basement - except bathrooms which were fluorescent lamps

The basement has a very uncomfortable hallway, it's about 3 feet wider than most hallways and is of course lit by one light bulb

There's a random angled wall here, so one of the rooms has a random angled wall for some reason

The house has TWO water heaters, a more common full size one and a smaller like half sized one. Guess which ones plumbed to the showers - that's right the small one, the big one is only connected to the kitchen sink, washer, and the nasty added on shower in the garage that no one has ever used.

Right - there's technically a third bathroom, it is IN the garage, i mean it's literally added on it's like a box that just juts out into the room. No one has used this bathroom as it is - like i said in the garage and thus smells of dust and mold and also there's no floor.

The floor plan is very odd, there's a BIG room and I mean big on both the first floor and the basement, and lots of tiny rooms, including the one my parents tried to move me too, which is quite frankly too small for a twin bed what you're supposed to do with a room that size I don't know.

There's no water filter of any kind here, not really a big deal, although the water is literally pumped out of the ground so uh sediment is in everything - like, the water filter for drinking has dirt in the top of it

The dust the downstairs of this house has dust like no other dust, the networking stuff is out in the garage where the dust is the worst, and it's killed 2 ethernet switches and a modem, it's this thick brown dust that - even though the house has been cleaned - will never go away

The deck - which is covered in plastic fake grass terf carpet and is nasty - is actually held up by a big iron rod that was clearly added much later than when the house was built, along with a much newer staircase

There's just a big gap in the wall on the side of the carport with a 5 foot drop - no one knows why it's there

Oh yeah also- the carport is on top of the garage - the garage is not accessible for cars, as it's on the basement level, so hearing a car roll ON TOP OF THE ROOM YOU'RE IN is really nerve-wracking

There were no lights of any kind originally installed in the back of the garage, it was literally permanently dark (the part under where the cars park btw

I mentioned the lack of HVAC - the house does has an oil-burning furnace - which smells of oil and makes a loud BANG every time it turns on and off

The stairs

The stairs don't really fit so there's no landing and instead there's a angled stair to rotate into the hall basically right across where the landing should be - I've tripped and nearly died on this a lot.

The stairs have only one light, at the top, which is almost impossible to reach to change bulbs, (you have to put a ladder at the top so you're at risk of falling down the entire stairwell if you fuck up) oh and this means the weird angled step is ALSO in the dark :)

The stairs extend out into the hall which is great for tripping over and dying on the concrete floor.

I'm living in the house of leaves

#thoughts #the house #ember writes #house of leaves

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mishwanders · 11 months

Text

• For The Love Of Moonlight •

Summary: The stench of old blood is really starting to put a damper on things. It’s time to get the Fierce Deity cleaned.

Warnings: a little bit NSFW because nakey Fierce, but he’s covered in a towel. Safe For Everyone (SFE)

Author’s Notes: Fierce is flirting again, lord of pinning, some really tooth rotting domestic stuff. Written by Mishwanders. Please do not take or repost it.

FTLOML

I had to leave my new cohort to himself for a few days to return to the castle, attending my courtly duties by the princess' side. Although, I have to admit I found it rather difficult to keep him off of my mind, worrying about his state. I feel as if I have done well enough to hide his existence from the princess and everyone else in the castle. Well, everyone except for my Kargarok-like friend, Lili. She has been constantly sniffing me and berating me via screeching about the unknown stench. I’ve tried to keep her quiet, feeding her the food that she shouldn’t have to keep her happy and content enough to not screech at me, but she’s still eyed as if I were hiding something from her, like the suspicious little creature she was. But I just need her to stay quite a bit longer, until I figure out exactly what in the Dusk I’m going to do about this situation.

Which, speaking of “the situation”…

When I opened the door into my home I was met with a terrible smell, one that I knew could only come from the stench of old blood and body odor. I couldn’t help but plug my nose with my arm as it wafted out of the place.

Did the Fierce Deity not bathe?!

I could see him lying back on the bed with his eyes closed. I walked up to the side of the bed, taking one look at him and knowing he was wide awake even if he was pretending to be asleep.

“Has the stench really not become a bother to you?”

He never answered, preferring the silence to answer for him. I rolled my eyes at him and walked over to the window, opening it and the others around the room. Only then did he decide to rouse, sitting up in bed and watching me. I turned around to face him, leaning forward on my staff ever so slightly.

“You’re getting a bath.”

I didn’t even wait for him to argue or “jest” with me before leaving the room into the bathroom. It was rather large considering the rest of the layout of the place. The stone tub was in the middle of the room, sink and plumbing towards the left, toiletries and a divider to the right. Thankfully there was a spring close by, which made it easier to run water into the place as opposed to others. I allowed the water to run as I grabbed some things, placing them on a small tray by the tub. I noticed then that Fierce was standing in the doorway, leaning on the right side against the frame to keep from falling over. I walked over to him, handing him my staff for his own sake of balance.

“Get undressed and get in the bath, I’ll be right back.”

He cocked his eyebrow curiously at me.

“Oh don’t look at me like that - you have blood matted in your hair and I intend on helping you get it out. I don’t want you trying to reach up with that wound in your shoulder and causing yourself more pain.”

He stood there for a moment longer, looking me over for a lie I assumed. He then turned to the divider and I walked into the living area, disposing of the bloodied rags and grabbing a bowl before heading back into the bathroom. I found that the Fierce Deity was much taller than the divider, the top of it coming well below his shoulders. I truly hoped he’d be able to fit in the tub. Maybe this was a bad idea…

“If you’re going to be in here I will need something to cover myself.” He said, staring down at me.

I moved to open the cabinet, pulling out a washcloth and tossing it to him. He held up the cloth as if it were a measly piece of tissue and looked down before replying, “I’m going to need something bigger.”

I rolled my eyes at him and tossed a towel at his face, to which promptly caught and grinned. Only then did he walk out from behind the divider, the towel situated around his waist as held on to my staff. This was the first time I’d seen him standing on his own since I helped carry him here. He truly was a hulking figure, muscles in places I didn’t think could even exist. He made my staff look like a twig in his hand. I found myself so lost in thought over how he looked that I hadn’t noticed I had been staring until he began to speak.

“You’re staring again, little moon. What are you thinking of?”

I shook all thoughts out of my head, feeling the glow emanating off of my body in embarrassment as I cleared my throat. “I’m hoping you’ll be able to fit in the tub without breaking it.”

He chuckled at that comment and my embarrassment, walking closer to the tub. He leaned down to me and whispered, “No peeking.”

I rolled my eyes at him, in disbelief that he was acting so childish around me at this moment, but I did as he asked nonetheless. I turned away from him, closing my eyes, waiting for him to get in. When he finally spoke again, I turned around to find him with the towel draped over the tub, his knees sticking out well past the edges of it, his arms resting on the edge of the tub with the wash cloth over his face. I shook my head at the sight of him. He looked like he was packed in too tight, but at least the stone tub hadn’t broken. I stepped over to the stool and took my seat behind him. I tapped on his non-wounded shoulder and handed him the bowl for water. He removed the cloth from his face, filled the bowl up with bath water and handed it back to me. I then proceeded to get to work on taking care of his hair, wetting it and gently combing through it to get out the blood.

Fierce kept his eyes closed the entire time, unmoving. The only sounds that could be heard for a while were that of his breathing, the sound of my comb being washed out in the water, and the subtle outdoor air coming through the windows in the other room.

If I had to be honest, it was oddly nice. He was very compliant with me in his silence, allowing me to do what I needed to, although I was trying to be as careful as I could to ensure there were no tangles. When I brought out the shampoo, he seemed to enjoy himself even more, leaning back into my hands. I could see his lips were pressed together, his eyes closed. His throat strained slightly and I wondered if he was trying to suppress any sounds that would dare escape from him. I chuckled at the mere thought of him trying to restrain himself.

“My little moon finds something funny?” He asked.

“Only over the fact of how quiet you seem to be right now. Are you getting shy on me?” I asked in return.

He opened his eyes and narrowed them at me, trying to hold his demeanor together, but I could see the crack of a smile on that stone-like face tugging at his lips. I knew he was enjoying every second of being pampered. I chuckled and he huffed a laugh at me and replied, “it’s not every day I get treated like this by anyone, no less a beautiful little moon.”

I stop my motions, hovering over his face and peering into his eyes. “Your flattery isn’t going to get you anywhere, Fierce. Besides, did you forget what position you’re in right now?”

“Well, if you’re so eager to be in control, you could give my hair a tug and you will be able to hear that silly little sound you were so eager to question me about.”

I looked at him, dumbfounded and shocked that he would even say that. I felt so embarrassed that I could feel the heat of my skin glowing once again. He laughed, knowing the tables of the conversation had turned in his favor. I let out a sigh. “You’re jesting is insufferable.”

He chuckled, “You are an easy target for it.”

“I am the only target for it.” I reminded him.

“Yes and an easy one.”

I handed him a cup of water and began to wash the soap out of his hair, allowing the soapy content to fill the rest of the bowl. I then stood up and made my way to the sink pouring out the mess of it when my eye caught sight of something I didn’t expect to see. The flap of wings and a luminous stone soaring through the window.

Oh god - Lili!

Lili came soaring into the room, heading straight for Fierce, screeching like a siren. I stood in the way of her path, catching her, but the impact hit so hard that I stumbled backwards into the tub. I closed my eyes, waiting to land on the stone, but I felt the arms of Fierce catching me as he stood up out of the water. Lili was still screeching at him like a rabid animal ready to attack. I turned my attention to her and shushed her, soothing her to silence.

“It’s okay, Lili, he isn’t going to hurt me, he’s a friend.” I explained.

I could tell Lili was still unsure of him, keeping her attention on him, but she was no longer screeching, so that was something. Lili then climbed up out of my arms and onto my shoulder, getting even closer to Fierce. I knew she wouldn’t try to hurt him too terribly in my presence, not unless I asked her to, but I could hear her breathing, taking in his scent to ensure he wasn’t some type of predator. I felt Fierce’s arms grip onto me a little bit tighter, which caused me to glow slightly once again.

“Is she always like this?” He asked

“She’s just very protective over me and wants to make sure you’re not evil. Give her a few seconds and she’ll leave you alone.”

And as true to my word as I was, Lili hopped off of my shoulder and waddled around on the floor. She looked back up at me and flicked her tail, the luminous stone at the other end glowing brightly. That was her way of telling me to kick him out.

I crossed my arms and shook my head. “Not going to happen, Lili. He’s still healing from his injuries.”

Lili gave another screech, lifting up her black and blue wings at me in an attempt to appear bigger than she was, to make me listen to her. I just shook my head at her. “Not going to happen.”

I knew Fierce was probably looking at me like I was insane, for I could even see his confused look in the mirror - which reminds me -

“Uh, you can let go of me now.” I said, tapping his arm around me.

He was slow to react to that, as if he hadn’t even remembered that he was holding on to me. I looked away from him in the mirror and allowed him to settle back down into the water before making my way back to my stool. Now that all of the blood was out of his hair, I took a small amount of oil and coated the ends in it, ensuring that it wouldn’t tangle now as it dried. I then took a look at the wound on his shoulder.

“Well, that seems to be healing up nicely. How about the others?”

“Roughly the same. If I had some healing potion it would make this faster.” He stated, tilting his head back to look at me now.

I gave him a confused look. “A what?”

Now he was looking at me confused. “You don’t know what a healing potion is?”

I shook my head, “Nope.”

He settled back into his position, looking forward. “No wonder you haven’t given one to me. I was beginning to think you were keeping it from me on purpose.”

“Why?” I asked

I knew he was smiling by the way his words had a hint of sarcastic glee to it. “I just assumed you wanted to keep me here, all to yourself, little moon.”

I tugged on his hair, hearing him let out a grunt as he laid his head back and looked at me again.

“You know that’s not why I’m doing all of this.”

“But you’ve never explained why you have me here like a secret to be kept. Even your… Lili, wasn’t aware of me until now.” He stated, looking over at Lili who was eyeing us from the doorway.

“I told you most of my kind don’t typically like Hylians and even if you aren’t technically a Hylian, you still bear their ears. I’m pretty sure someone might attempt to hunt you for sport if they saw you like this, especially injured.” I explained.

He chuckled at my response. “I’d like to see them try.”

“Give Lili long enough and she might actually attempt it.” I laughed.

I could See Fierce turning his attention over to Lili, dropping his hand outside of the tub towards her. She waddled over to it, sniffing it, her petal-like face closing around on his hand as if to taste him before releasing his hand and allowing the petals to close up, presenting her head for scratches. He gently petted her head and I could have sworn I heard her purring.

“I think me and Lili will get along well, my little moon.” He said with a smile.

I smiled at their little interaction, happy that she was at least on non-screeching terms with him now. “That she does. Just be careful with her, you piss her off, she will attack.”

“Duly noted.”

“Well, now that the blood is out of your hair you need to wash the rest of the stench off of you. Would you like some help with your back or prefer to do this in private?” I asked, tilting my head to the side.

“If you could help me with my shoulder -“ Fierce began.

I nodded, tapping on his good shoulder. He leaned forward allowing me to later up the wash cloth I had given him earlier. I gently scrubbed the area, ensuring that it was clean before washing it off and handing him the rag back. He then proceeded to take care of the rest of himself, to which I looked away trying to keep myself busy with gathering the old bandages and other items in the room that needed to be tossed or put away. When I heard the water sloshing I looked up, completely unaware of what I was about to see.

I quickly turned my gaze away and back down to the ground, my body warming profusely in embarrassment as I got mooned by him. I just hoped that he didn’t notice -

“Something wrong, little moon?”

Dang it.

“N-Nothing! I just dropped something, clumsy me!”

He was silent after that, to which I didn’t know if he knew I was lying or if he bought it. Either way, towel was quickly around him as he got out, making his way out into the other room with Lili waddling close in tow. I drained the tub and followed them out there. He was settled at the table with Lili on top, still inspecting him further. He held out his hand to her again and she moved her head under it, rubbing up against him. He smiled at her and I was genuinely happy that they were actually taking to each other pretty well.

“I’m going to need to keep your pants for a moment while I mend them. In the meantime, you can try and do something with this.” I said, placing an old bed cloth on the table.

He looked up at me, an amused smirk on his face. “You have been stripping me since the moment I walked into this place.”

I was glowing again - I knew it solely by the way he laughed.

“It’s not like that and you know it!” I stuttered, “it’s not my fault you ripped everything. Although the pants are my fault. I did rip those.”

He chuckled in return, “It is alright, I will make due until the repairs are made. In the meantime, do you have any more bandages?”

I quickly grabbed them, handing him what he needed. I helped bandage the one on his shoulder up and watched him do the others, grimacing when he got to the one on his thigh. It looked better than it did, healing up as well as it could, but it had been so close to a vein, there was a chance he might have died here if it had hit any closer…

I shook my head, trying not to think about it, but I knew that gathered his attention. “Something wrong?”

“No, it’s just - it’s been a long few days and I’m finding myself rather exhausted as of late.”

“You have been sleeping on the floor in the most uncomfortable of ways.” He stated with a chuckle, “Would you care to sleep by my side tonight?”

I must have looked shocked by the way he said, “Should I take that as a no?” Next.

I shook my head, “No I’m sorry - I just - I wasn’t expecting you to ask that. But I will take you up on that. Sleeping in my own bed sounds nice. Just let me take care of these first.”

I moved away from him and over to the bed, removing the old and bloodied sheets and leaving them with fresher ones. I then tossed all of the bloodied cloths and bandages in a bag, putting them away outside where no one would be able to see them. After that I shut the windows and turned back to face him. Fierce had already tied the bed sheet if given him around his waist, replacing that of the towel, what was left of it draped over his shoulder. The way he held onto my staff made him look more like a monk than a Deity.

As he made his way over to the bed, I walked back into the bathroom and changed out of my long skirt and into a simple sleeveless dress before returning out into the living space and getting into bed beside him.

“I promise I’ll get to work on that tear tomorrow, but right now, I’m tired.” I stated with a yawn to emphasize my sleepiness as I crawled under the covers.

Fierce chuckled at me, laying back on the bed beside me. I turned to face him, watching as his chest slowly rose and fell. I guess he felt me staring at him again, because he turned his attention to me, rolling over on his good side. He looked as if he wanted to ask me something, as if something was weighing on his mind - but that groan of thought was quickly run off the tracks by the sight of Lili crawling up in between us, circling in the spot and finally settling down, closest to me of course. I chuckled and draped my arm over her, kissing the top of her head.

“Goodnight Lili, Goodnight Fierce.”

Fierce looked at me over Lili’s form and gave me the sweetest smile as he whispered, “Goodnight, my little moon.”

#fierce deity #fierce deity x oc #fierce deity link #loz fic #loz fanfic #loz tp #legend of zelda fic #legend of zelda fanfiction #series: for the love of moonlight #oc: moonlight #lu fierce deity #twili oc #twilight princess fic #twilight princess fanfic

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drylan · 20 days

Note

ryan gets sub drop after a scene and dylan takes care of him like the sweet soft dom he is

"All done, sweet thing." Dylan cooed into Ryan's ear, untying the blindfold and pulling the other man upright. Something was...off, though. Ryan hadn't replied, hadn't so much as moved besides a small twitch. "Ryan?"

Still, nothing. He held Ryan's chin in a gentle grip of his hand. His eye's were glazed over, off, not focused at all. It wasn't uncommon for Ryan to drift off to a different place, sometimes a new place, during their scenes.

But it didn't linger like this. Not often. He was dropping. Maybe Dylan had taken it too far. Maybe it just wasn't a good night for them. But they both seemed to...enjoy it in the moment. Maybe? No...he kept trying to replay the scene, wondering where it went wrong, what he did wrong.

Dylan swallowed the bitterness and concern for his own potential inadequacies to focus in exclusively on his lover. "It's okay." He began, pulling Ryan into his arms and standing upright from their bed, arm hooked under Ryan's legs and hand gripped around his torso. "You don't have to speak if you don't want to. Or can't. I'll take care of you, Ryan. I promise."

He brought him into the bathroom, placing him gently on the chaise lounge opposite most of the plumbing in the room. Ryan made a weak noise when Dylan stepped back.

"I'm not going anywhere. Just going to get a bath started for us, okay?" He spoke soft and slow, running his hand gently down the side of Ryan's face. Ryan nodded, but said nothing more.

He started the bath tub, complete with lavender soap (one of the few strong smells they could both tolerate). It took a bit of maneuvering, but both of them ended up in the tub with minimal spillage.

Dylan made quick work of washing himself, but spent much longer on caring for Ryan. He wiped down each inch of him with soft cloth, one that wouldn't upset his sensibilities, cleaning him inside and out. "There you go, all nice and squeaky clean, huh?"

Ryan made another weak noise, but this one sounded more pleased than pained or broken. He helped him back out of the tub, pulling the plug to drain it out as he did.

While his lover's legs were still wobbly, he was much more upright than he was prior. Dylan took as much time drying Ryan off as he did washing him, before using the same towel to do a rush job on drying himself.

Once they were done in the bathroom, he took Ryan's hand and led him back into their bedroom. He rummaged in their closet for a while before finding that soft, oversized hoodie of his own that Ryan loved despite it was pastel pink and baby blue.

He tossed on his own pajamas, a t-shirt and briefs, before fetching a water bottle from their bedside table and getting Ryan to take a few sips. They cuddled, Ryan's face buried into Dylan's chest, hidden from the word, from their scene, from everything.

Dylan swallowed hard. Even as Ryan's soft snores filled the room, he couldn't help but feel a boiling simmer of guilt, concern, trouble...repeating the question of what had he done wrong? Had be pushed Ryan too far? Fuck.

Despite all these racing thoughts, domming took a lot out of Dylan, and he found himself deep asleep in under an hour.

When he came to, Ryan's eyes were fluttering awake as well. He hesitated for a moment, before Ryan nodded and he wrapped his arms back around him, holding him close. "Feeling better?"

"Yeah." Ryan's voice was hoarse, but clear. "Thank you-"

"You're thanking me?" Dylan sat up further, staring down at Ryan in disbelief. "I should be apologizing, I...I-I pushed you too far. I don't think, well, I mean, you only go nonverbal when-"

"With really, really intense feelings." Ryan completed for him, not exactly what Dylan was going to say. "It wasn't bad. I promise, heh. It's just, I've rarely ever felt so...cared for, man. It was intense, yeah. More intense than anything we've done before. But I could have safeworded. I didn't, because I wanted it. I want you. Needed it. And...and need you."

"I need you, too." Dylan replied quickly, his voice growing tight as he was incapable of managing to say much else in response. It was a lot to take in. "My lovely Ryan. God, you're-"

"Hush. Kiss me."

"Don't have to tell me twice." Dylan leant down, a soft press of their lips, before pulling Ryan back into his arms.

The rest of the day could wait.

#my stuff #fanfic #ficlet #drylan #rylan #radioheads #dylan lenivy #ryan erzahler #the quarry

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demoness-one · 4 months

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The vinyl siding came in for my house so i went and bought siding blocks for the electrical and plumbing crap on the outside, came to $160. 1 block for the meterbase, 4 for lights and plugs and 1 for generator inlet since im not an animal. But good fucking lord i should have stuck with wooden ones maybe. But then theyd eventually rot and augh id need to flash them too. The simplicity of screwing them to the wall and calling it done is worth $160 in adhd tax unfortunately 😔

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misspetsyourcats · 1 year

Text

Things men have offered me in exchange for ownership, a nonexhaustive list:

- goats

- heroin

- “as much alcohol as I want”

- “the good weed”

- a farm full of goats

- a house

- a cruise every year

- shoes

- an apartment

- legal guardianship over said man

- more goats

- dabs

- “you’ll feel better trust me”

- enlightenment and the knowledge of gods

- weed and a massage

- $5

- a boat

- canadian citizenship

- the truth behind the CIA

- goats but only 3 this time

- a nice fish

- a truck

- also a truck but it was a toy and he was 6

- 16 alpacas and 2 goats

- plumbing work

- a space on his private bunker homestead

- sex with his wife

- a nice rifle

- the blessings of the old gods on my womb

- the “joys of birthing the next aryan generation”

- an enchanted knife and spoon

- a gold thumb ring with some sort of spirit in it

- not making me pay for condoms

- a whiskey tonic

- carrying my bag

- a tick

- “my heart”

- his virginity

- 150 goats

- tricare

- a house in Canada

- the position of holy whore in his totally-not-cult

- a joint that was 90% sage

- “the privilege of being owned by a true alpha”

- a collection of automatic rifles

- position as head of the harem he did not have

- “it’s a secret drug formula from the russian mafia, just lick the powder off my hand”

- goats AND the pen they live in

- he will make me toast

- airfare to his apartment

- “if you never have to be sober you’ll be happy by my side regardless, just pick your poison”

- free tattoos

- a coffee

- a coffee and a trip to france

- just the trip to france

- a cell phone that he would pay

- a single goat

- pretty rocks

- “I won’t hit you”

- a whole group of goats and a nice dress and wellies to tend the goats

- 40 acres of logging and gravel pits

- his dad’s house

- a few goats and some sheep

- to never give me a traffic ticket

- a nice pocketknife

- his ex’s lingerie

- as much vodka as I want but no jäger

- a four course homecooked meal

- everything in my etsy favorites

- his sister

- his FAVORITE goat

- a beach house

- position as his first wife

- position as his second wife

- a firearm he made in his garage delivered to me every few weeks

- protection from his militia

- the blessings of a god from dungeons and dragons

- to never need to see him again (as long as we had sex)

- only 8 goats (the ninth was his mother’s)

- health insurance

- use of his home gym

- literal godhood, as in he would bestow the power upon me

- meth.

- him stabbing me 37 times (not 81, that was for more important people)

- I could meet his ghost

- he would keep the ghosts away

- psychic powers

- keys to a nissan altima currently located in a ravine 20+ miles offroad

- his plug’s phone number

- cheese

- a pen

- a goat pen *but not the goats in it*

- his dad’s house (don’t worry the dad will die soon)

- an illegally imported russian sniper rifle

- a dog

- flowers once a week forever

- “if you don’t marry me my mom will be sad”

- a horse

- country club membership

- shrooms

- his left kidney

- a few acres of forest and pasturelands

- a new iphone

- good grades in x class

- a baby goat

- a tractor WITH the gas in it

- cocaine

- a free tattoo (but only one)

- a plant (iirc a lily)

- a gangbang every month

- a cashew farm

- a room in his house to be mine forever

- goat cheese

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theworldwalkerswols · 10 months

Note

23. Describe the physical environment in which you write. Be as detailed as possible. Tell me what’s around you as you work. Paint me a picture.

Version 1.

In between patrons. The building is more window than wall, all concrete and five stories of south-facing glass. This is all hell on me, a fucker with light and heat sensitivity. The building has won accolades for its Green design and energy efficiency, which means that the HVAC is half-assed at best and always several hours behind the actual current temperature outside, leaving us with eighty-three thousand square feet of microclimates. Summer is my detested. Even so, on a clear day, the view south across the river, to the hills beyond, is breathtaking. When they built the place they didn’t think about all the expanding and contracting the floor panels were going to be doing with temperature changes, and failed to outfit the literal millions of bolts with rubber gaskets. Over a decade later, the floors, hollow to accommodate plumbing and cables, pop, thunk, creak, and squeal with the weight of passerby. Every desk has its quirks, but thankfully most of them have a Taller station; this is important, as I now need to be able to switch between sitting and standing, sometimes several times an hour, so I always place myself where I can more easily manage that. I end up having to turn the vast majority of the computer monitors to portrait position thanks to the polarization of my prescription sunglasses. I open chrome in incognito mode, use a privacy screen, and zoom docs out to 75 or 80 percent, depending on the floor I’m on. Often I do little more than reread, but depending on the day, I might peck away at my WIPs. Passerby inevitably comment on the fact that I wear a mask, brimmed hat, and sunglasses every day this time of year or on my metal water bottle, which holds A Gallon. I like it because I don’t have to tally how many times I refill it, but also because it could kill a man.

Version 2.

Home, nestled in the comfiest chair in the house I grew up in, a brown armchair with detached ottoman. The fabric has a shallow nap like velvet: smoother one way than the other. I have my lumbar pillow tucked into the small of my back and my feet up, a cheap lap desk balanced on my thighs and my guttering fifteen-inch laptop atop it, its fans blazing away, and it perpetually plugged in as though it’s on life support. To my left is a little side table beneath a wall lamp, which I prefer to have off unless it’s full dark, with a drink - tea, coffee, beer, or whiskey on the rocks are all likely candidates. With my back to the southeast corner of the house, I’m inevitably facing the piano I learned to play on and, above it, the sloped, vaulted ceiling that reaches its apex over the stairs. The dining room table, further to my right, is cluttered with projects and things my wife and I have yet to put away, lacking the energy, space, or both to do so, living in a household of four adults and two dogs. Mom’s Corgi, named in honor of a footballer (whose name we nevertheless technically mispronounce, Gods forgive us), barks at everything and nothing, her semi-howling hitting a high enough decibel to cut through my sound-canceling headphones, which play nature sounds that fit what I’m writing—Ishgardian fics almost always get a combination of wind and the snap of a wood fire, for example. “Xabi!” I borderline yell in a desperate bid to get her attention, “Leave it!” Or, if I’m really at the end of my chain, the idle but deeply cathartic threat, “I’m going to put you on the roof!” (My wife coined that one.) Sometimes her little brother, the chihuahua daschund mix Bear, succumbs to his perpetual FOMO and joins in, his higher-pitched, piercing barks enough to rattle my teeth in my skull. I take my headphones off - they’re not doing their job anyway - and go to the tall, narrow window flanking the door to physically shoo them away from it, saying “There’s nothing out there! You know what that means!” I extend my arms, hands open, toward Xabi in a this time very real threat to pick her up, repeating “You know what that means!” as I advance toward her and she scrambles to run away, her claws skittering over hardwood floors and tile. She knows that if I catch her, I’ll hold her in my arms like an infant, belly-up, and (gently!) bounce her, chanting “Act like a baby, get treated like a baby!!” which is a time-honored tradition from a past household. Inevitably she gives me her Most Disapproving Side-eye, possibly even licking my cheek or my nose in a desperate bid to win her freedom - this from a dog who we sometimes have to literally beg to get affection from (I am not above admitting that I have, in fact, fake cried to get her pity). Once I put her down, she may go straight back to barking. Or she may only huff and chuff, more air than sound, and earn praises of “Good girl, that’s a good quiet, thank you.” When she at last settles and I sit back down, Bear jumps up on the ottoman and stares at me until I let him curl up between my knees under my lap desk (and he’ll whine at me, with increasing levels of pitifulness, until I comply - he’s even pawed at my laptop screen). Now that it’s quieter, I can tell what my parents are watching one room over - almost always soccer, though sometimes some tv show or other - and I put my headphones back on, drowning it out.

—

Thank you so much for the ask! Game here~

#asked and answered #writing

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somediyprojects · 8 months

Text

Stone Top Coffee Table

Project by Lauren Chorpening Day:

Revitalizing preowned furniture is a well-loved hobby in my house. There’s a reupholstered sofa in the sunroom, bentwood chairs with new velvet seat covers in the dining room, and a mid-century dresser in the bedroom that got a few coats of paint on the chipped veneer shell.

Earlier this spring, the wood veneer surface of our Craigslist-find coffee table was showing some wear. It didn’t bother me too much, but my husband Austin wanted to try and coat the top in concrete to give it a different look. We sanded it down and then applied the concrete. It was not a great success. The next morning the sides had already broken away from the concrete top and it did not seem like a long-lasting solution. We removed the concrete layer to find that the wood veneer had soaked in the moisture from the concrete and was now looking worse than ever. I’m sure we could have done more research and tried to make the concrete work, but it was such a disappointment that we just started looking for new coffee tables.

One thing we both really loved about our coffee table was the design of the legs. Instead of individual legs attached to brackets like most tables we had seen from the 50s and 60s, this one had solid wood legs that were braced together in the center. When I started looking at replacement tables, I kept coming back to what I liked about the one we already had. Austin had a great idea to go the Habitat for Humanity ReStore and see if there were any stone pieces that could work as a replacement table top instead of getting a new coffee table.

Thankfully, there were about 20 pieces of 2-by-3-foot sierra white granite that were just the right size and $40 apiece. The only problem was that all of them had been drilled with 2-inch holes for plumbing fixtures. Austin came up with a solution and we went for it. This DIY project was much more doable for us than the concrete top and we completed it in less than an hour. I hope this project inspires you to reimagine pieces in your own home! —Lauren

SUPPLIES

Coffee table with pedestal base or braced legs

Stone countertop cut slightly larger than coffee table leg span

8 clear non-slip furniture bumpers

Hardwood scrap similar depth to stone (if applicable)

Hack saw

Medium grit sandpaper

Drill and drill bit (if applicable)

Hole saw drill attachment 1/4-inch larger than hole in stone (if applicable)

Towel

Hammer or small rubber mallet

INSTRUCTIONS

Step 1

Lay the table on its top. Use a hack saw to separate the legs from the top at the seam.

Step 2

Place the set of legs right-side up and gently sand the leg base where the top was removed.

Step 3

Place two non-slip furniture bumpers on each leg where the top will sit.

Place the leg frame where the coffee table will go. While the furniture bumpers and the weight of the stone top will ensure the table will be sturdy for everyday use, it will be too heavy to adjust and move around easily being two pieces.

Step 4

If your stone piece has a precut hole that needs to be plugged, use a drill with a hole saw attachment that is about 1/4-inch larger than the hole to cut a disk from a hardwood scrap (we used walnut). Use sandpaper to clean up the edges and to buff down the sides until the disk fits into the hole with a bit of pressure. Place the disk in the hole, place a towel over the top and lightly hammer it until it is set in place. Our original idea was to hammer it until it was flush with the table surface, but we ended up liking the look of it sticking up from the surface.

Step 5

Place the stone surface onto the legs with another person and readjust until it is centered — and you’re done!

#diy #crafts #home decor #x

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rogueofsoup · 2 years

Note

I was under the belief that determination gives you the power to save and reload and that's why flowey had it because he was a most determined person in the underground before frisk

But don't worry I understand Emmet's determination literally makes him unkillable

Emmet is the only being alive with more raw Determination than Frisk. However, as his ability to reset has been removed, Frisk is left the one with the ability still.

However, in Giritina breaking the game, the rules have changed. Thanks to Gaster's help, Giritina has enough control over the timelines that it can move the beginning of a reset, as well as straight-up remove an ability to reset entirely. Emmet's inability to reset despite his frankly disturbing amount of Determination is a prime example of this. However, Giritina does not have the ability to give someone this power, much less use the power itself. It's much easier to pull a plug than it is to fill the giant wash basin, especially when you have to do so by walking to and from the nearest stream and the wash basin with only two buckets, both of which have holes in them. You need to either patch up the buckets or fix the entire plumbing system of the house so the hose works.

(Translation: holey buckets = Giritina is weak, plumbing system is broken = Giritina is not built to work with time, water = time-manipulating ability)

In addition, Dialga (the God of Time) is the one that gifted the ability to reset to Humans. However, it is only accessible in the presence of Monster magic. Because of this, Frisk can only reset when around Monsters.

As for the reason why Humans have this rather limited power, during the wars that eventually drove Monsterkind underground, many gods tried "helping" by giving Humans abilities they could only use when in the presence of Monsters or while in a place filled with residual Monster magic (a place where Monsters live for extended periods of time), ideally living harmoniously with them. As you can probably tell, none of this worked in the slightest. In addition, it was Arceus's idea to do all this.

Dialga gave those with Determination the ability to turn back time to a point, also known as Resetting.

Palkia gave those with Kindness the ability to create barriers to protect others, which ended up being used by seven Humans led by Arceus to create the Barrier keeping Monsters inside The Underground, a big reason why things can go in, but can't come out (they were outside when they cast the barrier, so oops).

Reshiram gave those with Integrity the ability to manipulate heat, often appearing as the ability to create fire and ice just by moving heat around.

Zekrom gave those with Justice the ability to manipulate electrons, which most often manifested as the ability to manipulate electricity (and for the smarter and more clever people with excellent control, Telekinesis caused by manipulating the electrons around atoms together to make objects float; fucking this up leads to extremely dangerous side-effects).

Groudon gave those with Bravery the ability to manipulate rocks and dirt, also known as Terrakinesis.

Kyogre gave those with Perseverance the ability to manipulate water and similar liquids, also known as Aquakinesis.

Arceus itself gave those with Patience the ability to "Call upon thine Gods for direction or aid", also known as Asking Mom To Do It. Those with this ability were essentially prophets.

Few nowadays still have access to these powers. Psychics are most often powerful Justice souls with such perfect control that they don't even know the electricity side of their abilities, people with actual Prophetic abilities are always the most patient of Patience souls, and some martial artists with Bravery souls have so much bravery that they have the ability to split giant boulders in half without even thinking about it.

Before his ability was removed, Emmet was the only currently living person with a Determination soul that had the ability to turn back time an hour or so without being around Monster magic. That's why Ingo is so used to being in a constant state of Deja-vu.

#ns:tu #next stop: the underground #pokemon #undertale #pokemon x undertale au #pokemon emmet #giritina #arceus #pokemon ingo #lots of poke-gods #there's just so much #they really have to stop letting Arceus make all the big decisions #it has fucked up so many goddamn times #you'd think they'd have learned by now #don't trust the creation deity it's an idiot #wheeee worldbuilding shit #anyways it's 1am #i'm going to bed now

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micropowerappliance · 13 hours

Text

5 Most Common Dishwasher Problems & How To Fix Them

Imagine how difficult it is to get someone in the family to load the dishwasher properly or simply to switch a button for the loaded dishwasher to run…

Now imagine getting one of them to do a load of dishes!

This is an unimaginable task to many mums (well… most anyways!)

Understanding these problems and knowing how to fix them can save you both time and money.

Keep reading to find out what the dishwasher repair experts listed as the five most common dishwasher problems and detailed steps on how to fix them.

1.Dishwasher Not Draining Properly

Usually, you might notice that the water is pooling at the bottom after a cycle or slow or incomplete draining might indicate a clogged filter or drain hose, faulty drain pump or a blocked garbage disposal (if connected).

These are the easy fixes if your dishwasher is not draining properly:

Check and Clean the Filter (if necessary) and this is how you do it!

– Locate the Filter: In most dishwashers you just have to open it and check the bottom beneath the lower spray arm.

– Remove and Clean: Unscrew or unlock the filter. Rinse it under warm running water, using a soft brush to remove debris and buildup.

Inspect the Drain Hose:

– Check for Kinks or Clogs: Trace the drain hose from the dishwasher to the sink drain or garbage disposal. Ensure there are no sharp bends or visible blockages.

– Clean the Hose: Disconnect the hose and use a long brush or a plumbing snake to remove any clogs.

Examine the Garbage Disposal:

– Clear Obstructions: If your dishwasher drains through a garbage disposal, ensure it’s not clogged. Run the disposal to clear any blockages and check the knockout plug.

Test the Drain Pump:

– Listen for Noises: During the drain cycle, listen for any unusual sounds from the pump, which could indicate a malfunction.

– Professional Help: If the pump is faulty, it might need to be replaced by a professional dishwasher repair technician.

2.Dishwasher Not Cleaning Dishes Properly

There is the reason why mums usually shout not to load the dishwasher with food leftovers! If the dishes are not clean after the washing cycle if you noticed cloudy or greasy residue on glassware and utensils, it could possible due to dirty spray arms, low water temperature or incorrect loading of dishes.

Let’s try the following before you rush to dishwasher service in Melbourne.

Clean the Spray Arms:

– Remove the Spray Arms: Depending on your model, unscrew or unclip the spray arms from the dishwasher.

– Rinse Thoroughly: Rinse the spray arms under warm water. Use a toothpick or small brush to clear any clogged holes.

Check Water Temperature:

– Adjust the Water Heater: Ensure your water heater is set to 120°F (49°C) for optimal cleaning.

– Run Hot Water: Before starting the dishwasher, run hot water in the kitchen sink to ensure the dishwasher starts with hot water.

Load Dishes Correctly:

– Avoid Overcrowding: Arrange dishes so that water can circulate freely. Place larger items like pots and pans at the sides and smaller items like glasses and plates in the center. (Just like how your mum yelled at you!)

– Face Dishes Correctly: Ensure all dishes face the center of the dishwasher where the spray arms can reach them.

3.Dishwasher Making Unusual Noises

This is what grinding, humming, or knocking sounds during operation could mean obstructions in the spray arms or pump or loose components inside the dishwasher.

What could we do to fix it?

Inspect the Spray Arms:

– Check for Obstructions: Remove the spray arms and check for food particles or other debris that might be causing noise.

– Clean and Reattach: Clean the arms and ensure they are securely reattached.

Tighten Loose Components:

– Secure All Parts: Inspect the interior of the dishwasher for any loose screws or bolts, particularly around the spray arms and the door.

– Test the Racks: Ensure the racks are properly seated and not causing noise during the cycle.

Examine the Pump

– Listen for Irregularities: Unusual sounds from the pump area might indicate a need for professional inspection.

– Professional Repair:If the pump is determined to be the issue, it might require professional servicing or replacement.

4. Dishwasher Door Not Closing Properly

If you noticed the door doesn’t latch or seal correctly or water is leaking from the door during cycles, it could be a misaligned door latch or a damaged or worn door seal.

You could try the following solution but do not force anything on the machine as it could cause more harm to it! Make a quick trip to the closest dishwasher repair center!

Adjust the Door Latch:

– Realign the Latch: Check the latch alignment and adjust it if it’s off-center. Tighten any loose screws that may have shifted.

– Test the Door: Close the door to ensure it latches securely and evenly.

Replace the Door Seal:

– Inspect the Seal:Examine the door gasket for signs of wear, cracks, or deformities.

– Install a New Seal: Purchase a replacement gasket specific to your dishwasher model. Remove the old seal and press the new one into the groove, ensuring it’s seated evenly.

5.Dishwasher Leaking Water

Water leakage during or after a cycle or if you notice that water is pooling around the base of the dishwasher, perhaps it could be due a damaged door gasket, loose or cracked hoses or a faulty float switch.

These are the simple solutions you can try to fix your leaking dishwasher.

Inspect the Door Gasket:

– Check for Damage: Look for any tears or gaps in the gasket around the door.

– Replace if Necessary: If damaged, replace the gasket to ensure a watertight seal.

Examine Hoses:

– Check Connections: Inspect the water inlet and drain hoses for any signs of cracking or looseness.

– Tighten or Replace: Tighten loose connections and replace any damaged hoses to prevent leaks.

Check the Float Switch:

– Ensure Proper Movement: The float switch prevents the dishwasher from overflowing. Make sure it moves freely and isn’t stuck.

– Replace if Faulty: If the float switch is malfunctioning, it may need to be replaced by a professional.

Proper usage and regular dishwasher maintenance could prolong the lifespan of the dishwasher and also maintain its efficiency!

Be very cautious when you are trying to fix by yourself because you could end up doing more damage to the dishwasher. Ensure that you seek professional help whenever necessary. The golden rule in using a dishwasher is – listening to your mum!

Our services including dishwasher repairs Pakenham and available anyone living in the Southeastern suburbs of Melbourne including; Berwick, Officer, Clyde North, Narre Warren, Dandenong, Cranbourne, Beaconsfield, Clayton, Pakenham and Glen Waverley.

We are ready 24/7 to assist you with your appliance repairs in Melbourne – 0426274400 or via [email protected].

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diaryofagamesmaster · 2 months

Text

Day 1!

Dear Diary,

A LOT HAS HAPPENED IN THOSE 6 SHORT HOURS WOW

SO! Started off simple enough, got to work for 10:50 (wanted to be a bit early), and it was nice enough. Spoke to the Regional Manager (same guy who interviewed me, was pleasant to see him again), sat down with a guy and waited for the rest to arrive.

Now, importantly, our workplace (situated inside of a larger complex) isn't open to the public yet, which means it's a bit barren and liminal. But, that's okay, and is especially important for a bit later in this entry.

They're testing the fire alarms you see, to ensure the place is fully safe and all, so we have to stand outside (in the cold rain, by the way) and wait for the evac to be over. The rest of the people arrived luckily so although I was early, we didn't miss anything (and that's good!). Got to know the people there, and we've got a nice mix of people.

However, there is 1 person who is, shall we say, "interesting". I'll refer to them as "That Individual", for narrative convenience. You'll see why shortly.

That Individual doesn't seem to quite get professionalism, or really social interaction in more public spaces. And whilst I understand wanting to crack a crude joke or two, you're starting to reach certain limits when you bring up repeated sexual stuff

(including NECROPHILIA)

and certain jokes about ethnicities in front of the team leader. And unfortunately throughout the day, this happens a lot. Here's hoping tomorrow it's less intense, though I'll give you an example of That Individual's wonderful usage of the English language.

As the site's being built still, some facilities are partially complete. This includes the toilets, where there's plumbing but no toilet paper (or soap for that matter). For guys, that's fine, but for women naturally there's an issue present; luckily our site is close to a fast food place, so our female coworkers have to use the toilet there for a few days. Sounds normal so far, right?

Well, one of them comes back from her break a little late and out of breath, and we ask if she's alright. She gives the brief explanation we'd naturally forgotten, and accepted it as-is. Except for That Individual. Oho, no, That Individual needed to craft a response to this matter. So, rather than live and let live, That Individual pries a bit more, and says to her, in response to her plight with toilet paper;

"Why not just use a sock?"

Clearly, the pinnacle of human interaction.

And from now on, we're all a little bit concerned with what That Individual is doing with their socks in the lonely hours of the night.

There was ALSO, in unrelated news (after the first day at work), a funny anecdote of mine. I needed to get myself a taxi (as the place I was headed next was on the other side of the city), so I was trying to book it with my phone. Simple enough, just open the app and-

It just shuts off. I had the charge, but no, not for this app. This is the one that keeps killing it at 10%~. I try multiple times to book the taxi but no, it can't cope. So I head over to this restaurant, and ask the manager there if there happened to be anywhere I could charge my phone. She says "No; there!" in a comical exaggerated way, pointing to the table next to us that happened to perfectly have those plug sockets needed to charge my phone.

When things got rough, they got better immediately, and it was just wonderful. Furthermore, she came over later after I'd booked it and saw me beaming happy, so she offered to get me a free drink whilst I waited for the taxi. And so, I requested (with great appreciation) something I rarely get if ever anymore: a small plastic bottle of milk. And she was so amused, she had a good laugh and brought out that bottle back to me on a tray.

All in all, a really good first day. Here's hoping day 2 is just as good!

#my gm diary #dear diary #first day of work #woo!#went great #very pleased

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820619 · 3 months

Text

Update 2 - Oct 2023

I like tech, and i like tinkering with automation and programming, so part of my ambition for Sanctuary is to automation where it makes sense and make things easier when a) I have guests over to entertain, and b) should I need help with something in an emergency.

I've always been interested in the idea of a smart lock, and having remote access to a home without a key, however most devices look really obvious and I wanted something discrete from a manufacturer I vaguely knew. I started reading into it and the lock company Yale actually released a new smart lock whilst i was doing my research, the Conexis L2. The L1 was met with lukearm reviews, as the app was janky to use, it didnt always work, and some of the most obvious features were left out of the device. Luckily though, reviews of the L2 seemed to suggest that this was all addressed with the new device, so I decided to give it a shot.

One of the best things about this lock is the ability to check if the doors locked from wherever. I constantly leave for work, lock the door, walk 3 steps and then think "did i lock the door?", go back and then check it. Now I can just check from my phone (even though I always lock the door). Its also very useful for house sitting, as i can get spare keyfobs, assign them a name and then hand them out to immediate family. Similar for contractors too - if im at work, I can either unlock the door from my phone should they ring me, or give them access through the app via a guest email address and account. I can then restrict access as and when they do work for me. This is basically the same as giving them a key, but i dont have to chase them up to get the key from them should they forget to give it to me.

It does have a Geofencing feature too so that it primes the unlock when youre in a specific range, and then when your phone is near the door it will unlock for 30ish seconds before locking again, but this is only really useful if you have your hands full with shopping and you cant really get to your keys - otherwise its a bit of a gimmick.

Overall, pretty happy with it - its not overly "look at me - im a smart lock" and its been faultless since i installed it.

The dishwasher also arrived, so I spoke with R - a work colleague who suggested i get a dishwasher and he could help install all the pipework and get it all set up - and we penned in a date to get it all plumbed in. I got all the bits and pieces he specced out for me beforehand.

On the day, we took the washer out of its slot, removed the cabinets either side of it, and then looked at the plumbing. We just needed to put a T piece in and another line for the washer water supply - we did this with JG Speedfit components, that are simply push fit fittings and snap together like Lego.

We noticed that either side of where the washer was, there were tiles missing. This wasnt an issue, as we put some wood board in the slots, but made levelling the washer a PITA.

We also had to relocate the plug socket on that wall so that it didnt foul on the back of either of the appliances.

At that point, I realised the cupboard next to the washers new position wouldn't open because it didn't have enough clearance, so we moved a door from the other end of the kitchen cupboards with hinges on the opposite side, and put it next to the washer. This meant i could now open the washer door and the cupboard door.

The last thing to do in terms of pipework was replace the pipework under the sink with a U piece that had two waste points instead of a single waste point. This involved some cutting of the cupboard sides to accommodate the pipework, but that wasn't an issue either as I have more than enough cupboard space and could relocate things if needed.

Once it was all connected, we ran both appliances at the same time to make sure the connections for the waste water were all tight and could handle both lines being pressurised at the same time, and then started measuring out the new end-board, as previously this was the side of the small cupboard we had removed.

The end-board was due to be delivered that day, so we waited for it to get here. When it did, we measured it to size, cut the board, and then fit it into place - we cut snuggly and reinforced its location with some L brackets that went into the sideboard and the wall. Pleased with the fit and it was a pretty close match in terms of colour and surface to the rest of the kitchen, so I was happy with that too.

Once all that was completed, checked the connections for the waste water and noticed the washer was leaking a little - i hadn't tightened it up enough it seems! We retightened, and then ran the washer again to check if it leaked and when we were confident it hadn't, we then spent half an hour levelling the bastard thing. Super annoying and some of it was guesswork as the far corner had to be levelled, pushed back into position, then we had to rock it gently to see where it moved, pull it back out and adjust and rinse and repeat. Even now, in March 2024, its not perfect and I am going to have to replace the wood board with something else as it seems to be getting noisier with each cycle, but its running for now and that's the main thing.

Overall though, I'm pretty happy with how it turned out, and the appliances themselves have been faultless so far. Both are LG, with "smart" functions, which are somewhat useful and somewhat gimmicky.

Useful features including telling me when it is time to run a cleaning cycle with some sort of cleaner , as well as the washer auto stopping if it senses too much vibration from an unbalanced load. It will then send a message to the LG ThinQ app asking me to remove some items or to rearrange them in the drum - this will stop it damaging itself or from running across my kitchen. The dishwasher has a steam mode to really clean glass or ceramic items, like stained glasses or casserole dishes with years of baked on crap - whilst not tied to a smart function as such, its been pretty handy to use. The dryer function on the washer/dryer is also pretty energy efficient, i think in part because its got a heat-pump to generate the heat which it then just cycles round for a few hours, and on the other hand its about 10 years newer than the previous dryer left behind by the previous owner.

Gimmicks include being able to download "niche" cycles onto the machines, which so far has been pointless since none of the cycles that you can download offer anything you cant already achieve with the standard, in machine ones.

Having a dishwasher is much better for me as an individual, as its a good way to make the most of my time outside of work - it can do the washing whilst i sleep :)! Still, at this point Sanctuary didn't feel like my home. It felt like i was house sitting and being a super generous house sitter by maintaining it and buying new appliances whilst it is under my watch... I think as I put more of my own mark on it, it'll feel much more homely - even now, 8 months into ownership, im 50/50 feeling like a house sitter and like this is my own space.

#home upgrades #lg electronics #plumbing #first home

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