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messylustt · 1 year

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i had this on top of my mind today

imagine ethan with a huge crush on y/n, having all these fantasies on her. once a week they would call each other for econ homework, but that day he's just too horny so he gets off to her voice. y/n is too oblivious, he would be palming himself through his pants. his breath becomes a little too loud and she kind of guess what's happening and takes advantage of it to tease him/make him embarrassed.

this makes me feel things

a little help — ethan landry + reader ( scream ) : ethan can’t help but get off to your sweet voice.

male jerking off. teasing. innuendos. ethan has fantasies. wc 2.0k

Ethan felt slightly embarrassed with how eager he picked up the phone His heart was already beating fast as your sweet voice filled his ears.

"Hey, Ethan!" You smile, placing your assigment and study papers on your bed, as you got yourself settled.

"Hey, y/n." He says, a smile he can never force down appearing on his lips.

"Did you get the new assignement from this morning's lecture?" You ask, as you flip through your pages to find it.

Ethan does the same, putting you on speaker as he placed his phone on the bed. "Yeah...I think so... yes." He says, placing the assignment details ontop of the rest of his work. "Why did Mr. Harold give out papers, instead of just sending it?"

"Ah, he's old, which can sometimes mean old-fashioned, I guess." You say, clicking your pen. "Oh my god, though did you see Sophie?" You chuckle, remembering the way she had tried to flirt with the poor old man, leaning forward as she pushed her breasts together.

"No...Sophie was in today?" Ethan knew of her vaguely as the girl who would fuck for good grades. But his focus had been on you in econ, sparing glances down your body when you weren't looking.

"How could you not notice?" You ask, shifting more comfortably on your bed. "I was scared her tits were gonna fall out."

Ethan stiffened at your words, and not because you had mentioned Sophie's tits, but because the his mind wandered to your own, and how he'd always have to readjust in his seat when you'd wear a tight top. Wondering how they'd feel in his—

"We should get started." You unintentionally break his train of thought, as he gulps, silently cursing at himself. "Because I barely understood Mr. Harold."

"Uh, yeah." Ethan coughed, forcing himself to focus. "What part didn't you get?"

"The third paragraph, where he talks about the inflation and economic growth. His question after confuses me. I'm not sure what he's asking us to answer." You speak so innocently, brows furrowed, as Ethan furrows his own for an entirely different reason.

For some reason your voice was sending small electric jolts through him. All the way down to his dick, which has begun to strain painfully against his pants. Christ, not now-he thinks to himself. He licked his lips, answering your confusion, as you hum with an "ah, that makes makes more sense."

Ethan's mouth has salivated, as all his built up fantasies of you fill his head. "So, when he spoke on analyzing the economy as a system, the list he followed on from..."

Ethan doesn't mean to drown out your words. Because he's listening. But more so to the hilt of your voice, and how it would sound much more breathy, as you gazed up at him. One of his fantasies had you on your knees, licking at his cock, as your innocent eyes held his. He had orgasmed extremely quickly, multiple times, when he found this imagine in his head.

"...he could have meant that these are the elements," you had continued, completely oblivious to Ethan's wandering hand.

He couldnt help it. He palmed his cock, as he listened to you speak. You always spoke so pretty. He could imagine your confused expression as you spoke on your problems. He began to rub himself, restricting himself to just over his pants, as he bit his lip.

He won’t do more. Just…relieve a hint of tension. You continued to speak and your words began to sound like something he wished he could grab, as his hand tightened on his bulge, his rubbing growing messy.

His breathing had grown heavier but he covered it up by saying ‘yes’s and ‘no’s, answering your questions.

“Sorry, I’m rambling. Did you have any questions?” You ask. You were there to help each other, not him only help you.

Ethan had to spare a glance at his work, scanning to see if he’d written down any problems, trying to remember if he had any. Because the only problem he could think of right now is how his over-the-clothes rubbing was doing little to satisfy his need.

His cock was rock hard, and his mind was beginning to cloud over with lust, and want for you. “I—I don’t think so.” He mutters out, his fingers reaching the button of his jeans, as he pulled the zipper down.

It was shameful, but he just couldn’t help it. “Okay, do you mind if I ask another question?—sorry I just saw it now.” You ask as Ethan absentmindedly nods wanting to hear you speak more, before he manages a ‘sure’, trying to act casual.

“Great, thank you,” and you began to speak on either the 8th or 9th paragraph as Ethan stuck his hand in his pants, feeling his pre-cum practically staining his boxers.

He imagined the way you would touch him. Would you be gentle and slow, or would you deep throat him immediately. Ethan’s breathing stutters as he strokes himself. The little hums you make when you think have begun to make his hips thrust up into his palm.

His other hand had tightened around the sheet, praying that you can’t hear him jerking off to you. Ethan grows lost in your tone as his cock twitches.

“Ethan?” You slowly ask, making his hips jolt at the utterance of his name from your lips, but he tries to keep his voice of some composure.

“Yes?” He had to press his lips together after a needy whimper nearly falling.

“Are you…okay?”

Your question makes him halt-much to his cock’s dismay. “W-what?”

“You sound out of breath.” You say, behind the line trying to think of why. Because he can’t be running, he’s in his apartment with his papers on his bed like you.

“I’m not.” He coughs.

You nod to yourself, but then you catch the smallest of sounds fall straight from Ethan’s lips. You had to be mistaken, because that noise sounded like one due to pleasure.

Your mouth opened in shock as you realise. He’s out of breath because he’s…

“Ethan.” You say again, hearing a stuttering whimper from him before he tries to cover it up by asking ‘yes?’ again. “What are you doing?”

Ethan curses himself because you sound suspicious. “I’m studying. Going over the study. Like you.” He says, really forcing down his cock’s want to just ask you to keep talking so he could reach his orgasm.

“Ah huh.” You hum, unconvinced. “And you’re sure you have no questions?”

“No. No, I’m all good.” He says, really forcing his words to sound normal, as he had slowly began to stroke himself again, his cock angry.

“No questions for me?” You ask now instead. Slowly coming to the definite realisation of Ethan jerking off.

“What do you mean?” Ethan asks, your tone going straight to his cock.

“Oh, nothing.” You hum, before you intentionally make your voice come out breathier, seeing what he’ll do. “Did I mention how nice your hair looked this morning?”

Ethan’s breath hitches as his hand quickens around his cock, seeming to have a mind of its own. “N—no.”

“Oh. Well, it looked really good, I just wanted to run my fingers through it constantly.” You pause hearing Ethan’s surprised whimper. “But that’s weird isn’t it, sorry.” You were teasing him now, your study forgotten.

“I—it’s not weird. You’re not weird. At all.” Ethan’s words are broken up by his panting.

“Aw, that’s so sweet, Ethan.” You hum, making Ethan’s hips thrust up into his hand, his legs having widened as you spoke.

“Y—yeah?” His eyelids have begun to feel heavy.

“Yeah. Your always so sweet to me. Helping with my study, making sure I have a seat in econ.” You shift on your bed, debating on if you go bolder. “You’re also very good at studying, hence why you never have too many questions. You’re also very good at teaching, making sure I know what I’m doing. Your just such a good boy.”

Ethan chokes on a moan. This makes his eyes widen, because you definitely heard that. So he quickly goes to speak. “T—that’s sweet. Really sweet. You’re…really sweet.” His tone is still breathy though, as he imagines how sweet you really are…or taste.

“Am I?” You tease, as Ethan’s rapidly nods on the other line.

“Always so…sweet.” He says, his tone unintentionally dropping an octave.

“But I never seem to be able to help you.” You say. “I’m the one always asking questions.”

“That’s fine.” Ethan says. “I like hearing you talk.” He pauses, shit. “I—I mean, I like hearing your questions because then I can help you.”

A smile had edged your lips. “But that’s exactly it. You help me…” you drift off, speaking closer to the phone. “Let me help you.”

Ethan didn’t know what you meant but the tone you had dropped to makes his hand quicken as his hips had begun to grind into his palm. “W—with what?”

“Oh, you know, with many things.” You say, appearing innocent again. “One specifically would be your tension.”

Ethans chokes on a whimper as he places his hand over his mouth, still thinking you don’t know. “My…tension?”

“Yeah.” You say lightly. “I’m very good at massaging.” You hold back a chuckle as you tease him.

“You’d give me a massage?” In Ethan’s mind that’s the closest he could get to you.

“Yeah.” You say. “I’d start with your shoulders of course, getting essential knots out.” You fake normalcy in the conversation.

“Then I might let my hands drift down your back.” You pause. “You’d have to lie down, so I could get a good angle.”

Ethan’s mouth has opened in pleasure at the thought of you touching him on the bed.

“I’d have to ask where feels the nicest, before I’d drag my hands down your body.” Your words were growing bolder and if Ethan’s mind wasn’t hazed over with lust he might have been able to pick out your innuendoes.

“Really?” He asks, his stroking quickening.

“Yeah. Though, through your clothes it mind be hard to properly get that tension out.”

Ethan moans through his teeth, as his hips pathetically thrust at your words. “No clothes?”

“No clothes.” You confirm. “Would that be okay? I wouldn’t want to make you uncomfortable—“

“Yes.” His answer was immediate, cutting you short. He coughs. “That would be fine.”

You grin. “Good. Because that way I could really relieve some tension. I’d have to straddle you of course.” You pause to hear Ethan’s heavy breathing and the faint sound of his hand gliding along his cock. “You may even have to flip around, because I’ve heard that the most tension can be by your collarbones and neck.”

Ethan nearly orgasmed at the thought of you straddling him, as your hands wandered his body. “As in straddling..my front?”

“Yeah, is that okay?”

“Uh huh.” He hums, his cock twitching with a soon need to release.

“I could give you that massage the next time we study.” You say, making Ethan’s breathing quicken at the possible reality of all that. “I could come over to yours.”

At this point he couldn’t care how desperate he sounded. “Yes. Please, come anytime.”

“Or maybe you should cum?” You ask, your innuendo strong, as pleasure began to rock through Ethans body. “W—what?”

“Come to my apartment.” You play it off, listening to the wet sounds his cock was making as you could hear how close he was to his orgasm.

“No. You should—should come here.” He says breathlessly.

“Do you prefer yours?”

Ethan just wants to see you on his sheets, all his fantasies having happened on this bed. He wanted to make one a reality, even if it was just a massage.

“I just have all the extra study stuff here.” Not that he couldn’t easily bring it, but he ignored that, and so did you.

“See, you are such a good boy.” And that did it. His orgasm wracked through him as quiet whimpers and moans left his lips his hips grinding into nothing. Wishing the air was you.

When the pleasure slowly ceased he heard words he never thought you’d utter. “Maybe next study session I could jerk you off?”

“W—what?” He chocked. Fuck, of course you had heard him. By the end he was being pretty obvious.

“Yeah, Ethan.” You grin. “Let me help relieve some tension.”

#. ( psychos )#the ethan effect #ethan landry oneshot #ethan landry x reader #ethan landry #ethan landry x y/n #ethan landry x you #jack champion #jack champion x reader #scream #scream 6 #jack champion x y/n #ethan landry smut #jack champion smut #scream smut #scream 6 smut #scream vi

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coffeeadict61 · 10 months

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Humans Are Weird: Auditory Processing Disorder

Report # 306

Topic: Auditory Processing Disorder

APD: disorder of the auditory (hearing) system that causes a disruption in the way that an individual's brain understands what they are hearing.

Four days ago I was doing my monthly meeting with the electrical department, receiving updates on our monthly usage, needed parts, and checking up on general morale. (The transcript of that meeting is already turned in.) After the meeting we had refreshments and I discovered Lucy (previously mentioned in report #286) pouting in a corner. I inquired what was bothering her. She said, "The ship's head medic just diagnosed me with APD but he wasn't trained to treat it." I asked for further information on the condition. She listed several of her personal symptoms. "It means I don't always catch what people say. It feels like my brain doesn't want to listen. In one ear and out the other making me look stupid to however I talk to. It's connected to my misophonia, and the fact I was born really premature."

I was unsure how to comfort her so I made no effort. This seemed to work for Lucy kept speaking.

"And what's worse is there's nothing I can do! We don't have a speech therapist aboard or even any research materials! Its starting to affect my work performance. On top of decoding, hypersensitivity, and prosodic problems, I have integration issues which mean its really hard for me to focus on what people are saying when I'm doing something. Which freaking sucks when you're part of a team!" I had no clue what she was really talking about but gave her a hug (human gesture of enveloping one in your arms as a sign of comfort or safety), and she apologized for "venting" to me.

She then spoke on how her crew mates just thought she was "slow" or wasn't good at her job. They questioned if she was capable because she would follow directions incorrectly and she was worried she'd be replaced with someone "less problematic". I tried to assure her that I would help anyway I could on her behalf. Never again will I doubt a human's sincerity.

After some of my own personal research I have made a list of the different types and their definitions for your education on the subject:

Hypersensitivity – Hypersensitivity to sound is often diagnosed as misophonia or hyperacusis. Misophonia is when people have adverse physical reactions to sounds, such as becoming nauseated by the sound of chewing or slurping. Hyperacusis, on the other hand, is characterized by a sensitivity to sounds. For some, this means that white noise can be deafening, even causing physical pain.

Decoding – Decoding difficulties involve a lack of figuring out words that are spoken. They hear the sounds, but their brains do not process them as words.

Integration – Integration applies to those who struggle to do multiple things while listening. Such multi-tasking may be writing notes and listening, or having conversations while typing an email.

Prosodic – Prosodic refers to people who have trouble with tone, inflection, and implied meaning. A question and exclamation are processed identically in their brains. Their speech is also often monotone.

Organizational – Finally, organizational, or output, is often characterized by not recalling information in a specific order or having difficulty with noisy situations.

Honestly, Humans are so diverse and unpredictable. To think that different "problems" or " abnormalities " within their mind or body can lead to even more similar issues astounds me. They are so intricate in a way my species has never been. Despite the struggles that their disorders, and conditions being, I think it's strangely beautiful. Maybe that's just me, but I have a new appreciation for them.

I am requesting the presence of a speech therapist, whether physically or digitally, to be readily available to our crew. We must also add APD onto our medics research requirements. It is not an overly complicated subject to be fluent in. I also request that Lucy's diagnoses be added to her list of wrongful termination along with her gender, age, and race. No one should feel their position is at risk because of a disorder or disability. I also request that a written copy of daily instruction be printed for her if necessary. She is one of our best electricians and I mean to keep her employed here as long as she wants.

Human Observer #5743

#humans are weird #humans are space orcs #APD #auditory processing disorder #its an educational one folks #Lucy #Human Observer #Human observer5743 #Lucy is back #space #science fiction #sci fi #aliens #hope you like this one guys

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sinner-sunflower · 2 months

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A HH Lucifer-centric AU 16/?

PART 1, PART 2, PART 3, PART 4, PART 5, PART 6, PART 7, PART 8, PART 9, PART 10, PART 11, PART 12, PART 13, PART 14, PART 15, PART 17, PART 18, PART 19, PART 20, PART 21, PART 22

Hotel reaction 2 electric boogaloo

still deciding whether i'll post tomorrow

------------------------------------------

4 hours later, despite the arrival of Lucifer and the mystery woman, there is barely no progress. Charlie and the others were so hopeful the first few times because it did look like the extra power was doing something. But every time they make a dent, it bites back even worse.

They flinch as another Goetia fell, prompting the Prince of Lust to call for a retreat from her dad.

Lucifer: No! We can't afford to lose a Ring.

Cherri: They are clearly exhausted.

Angel: Yeah. One day won't be tha bad, right toots?

Charlie: Umm, I don't think so. Hell's rings are a complicated. They aren't just places, it's a system. Losing one will inevitably cause the others to fall apart.

Husk: I guess his majesty doesn't want us backed to a corner. If they let Sloth be consumed then who knows how bigger the problem would get.

Vaggie: He's right. The best solution is dealing with it at the literal root. They can theoretically recoup but by the looks of things, Sloth has little to no time left.

Husk: Mhhm. The constant ritual might be the only thing keeping it alive. The ring is basically on life support.

Lucifer: Goodie! Goodie: I cannot give more of something I do not have, angel. I warned you that my support alone will most likely not stop this. Lucifer: We should at least be denting it!

They quickly covered their ears as the TV let out a sound so ear-piercing that it feels like their head is splitting in half.

Angel: What the fuck???

Looking up despite the pain, they see that giant roots sprout from the ground. It went up and up until it reached Lucifer's pentagram in the sky.

Husk: Is that a fuckin' tree?

Charlie is transfixed on the image. She has lived in Hell all her life but this is the first time she had felt dread from something that came from her home.

'This is not of Hell.' She thought. It makes her sick. But her stupor was cut short as a new voice cuts through the footage.

Leviathan: Luci! Your marks!

Charlie looks in equal horror as her Uncle Leviathan when she saw the state her dad was in. The marks on his body have now almost consumed his whole face. She lets out a sob as Lucifer held up the mirror Alastor provided to inspect his condition.

No one spoke as he does this. Then after a moment, Charlie saw something in her dad's eyes.

Lucifer: Goodie. What do I need to do?

Charlie was about to say her confusion out loud when the lady, Goodie, blew a piece of paper onto the King's skin.

Goodie: This might be the only way to stop my sister. That is an ancient seal from before the Nothing- strong enough to render God and beings like Roo weak. Satan: Huh?! Then why didn't you just let us use that from the start??

Cherri: Yeah! The shit??

Husk: I don't like this.

Charlie shares the same sentiment. Whatever is happening, she has a bad feeling.

Goodie: Because there is a condition. Lucifer: And what's that? Goodie: It must be performed from the inside. It needs to be as close as possible to the one you are sealing. The hold will be stronger with proximity. And with you being the highest power here... Belphegor: Then that means-!

Nononononono, please don't. Please don't let it be what I think it is. Please don't do it. Please dad. I love you. I miss you. Please don't leave me PLEASE-

Lucifer: I need to be the one to go in there.

Protests from the hotel residents and demons on the broadcast overlap with each other. Charlie's ears are ringing. Her chest is tight and it's getting harder and harder to breathe. She can feel someone's hand around her, probably attempting to ground her. Yup, definitely a coming panic attack.

Lucifer: Are you sure this will stop her?

She can vaguely hear someone, probably Vaggie, say something to her but it's all muffled. Charlie could only focus her hearing on the scene in the TV.

Dark spots are filling her vision and her breaths are erratic as her beating heart.

PLEASEPLEASEPLEASEDADPLEASENOTYOUDONTLEAVEMETOODADPLEASE

Goodie: You are the key, angel. It must be you.

Charlie's world turns to black as she collapses in the arms of her lover. And if her dad looked directly at the camera in hopes of meeting her gaze, well, she'll never know.

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cherr-22 · 6 months

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TNGDH 30

“Cashew. Stay still for a moment.”

The time has come.

My sluggish body which had been lazily lying on top of the sawdust to enjoy the warm light of the electric lamp was helplessly lifted by Kyle’s rough hands.

He picked me up more carefully than usual and took my measurements with a tape measure he got from who-knows-where.

―Squeak. (Sigh.)

I stretched out my arms and watched Kyle work with full concentration. His hands and arms were wrapped in bandages and yet on his day off, he was doing this instead of resting.

Just rest. Stay lying down on your bed.

I burrowed myself among the yarn and, with a sour expression on my face, read the book Kyle laid out, <Try making one yourself! 79 styles of hamster clothes>.

Well, I read it and closed my eyes shut in cringe.

The outfit Kyle chose to make was a pink cape with a large strawberry embroidered on the back. I turned my head to try to pretend I didn’t see it.

I knew it. I shouldn’t have given him this book. At the very least, I should’ve looked over it before giving it to him.

At that time, I was fooled by the viral marketing of the system that said [You can keep fluffy hamster clothes in your inventory and use them at your disposal!].

[d=====(￣▽￣*)b]

Why are you so happy.

I huffed and kicked towards the system window. Kyle must’ve thought I was fighting with the air, so he stopped for a moment and gently stroked my body.

“Wait a bit even if you’re bored. I’ll finish this up quickly.”

And then I was given an almond.

With a sigh, I laid down on my side and watched Kyle while nibbling on the almond.

‘Well. It’s already happened, so what can I do anyways.’

When I asked the system, it said that if I used ‘Summon’ to turn into a human, the clothes would also grow bigger to suit me. Anyways, isn’t it better to wear at least a cloak than to be naked when you’re in a hurry?

The problem was Kyle’s crafting abilities.

‘……Is that really clothes? Not something else?’

I scrunched my face as I watched him make what looked like a dish scrub. The dishes would become so clean if I used that. Anyways, it meant that I couldn’t wear that.

Then, a knock and the voice of a knight came from outside the door.

“Pardon my intrusion.”

“No. Don’t come in.”

Kyle raised his voice as his fingers slipped. The large door slightly opened a crack before closing again.

“……Are you busy at the moment?”

“Coming into the study is prohibited unless someone has died. Do not come to me for trivial reasons!”

Kyle’s voice was firm.

‘Why are you talking like that? You’re just knitting hamster clothes.’

Even if it’s you, I bet you don’t want your subordinates to see this, huh…….

The knight outside raised his voice sharply and shouted, “Yes sir!” before walking away.

With that, it should be silent without anyone else’s disturbance for a while. The poor knight would tell everyone in the castle to not go into the study even if they’re dying.

I scratched my stomach and checked the system window. Kyle continued to concentrate on knitting.

[Currently Possessing Hearts ｜ ❤×14]

Your skills are atrocious but as long as you are enjoying it…

‘Your happiness will soon be my happiness, I suppose.’

As the ball of yarn grew smaller and smaller, the number of Hearts increased. I buried myself into the pile of yarn and fell asleep due to the warmth.

The system window flashed in my blurred vision.

[Kyle Jane Meinhardt. Approximately 50 days left from the expected time of death.]

I jumped when I saw the previous 15 days increased by over a month. I stared at it blankly and then slowly closed my eyes again.

50 days isn’t long either, but at least we would get through this winter. Long enough to see the spring in this desolate North together with him.

When I woke up, I was in the hamster house.

I yawned lazily while stroking my pressed cheeks from lying down on it for too long. I checked my body.

‘Whew…….’

Luckily, he didn’t make me wear anything while I was asleep.

It seemed he finished making the clothes before I fell asleep, but didn’t make me wear it due to its poor quality. I patted my chest in relief and sat on the swing.

‘The problem is the Miracle Points…….’

I opened the system window and checked the amount of points I had.

[Current Miracle Value 19.0%]

‘I sure used a lot.’

I sighed.

With this, ‘Summon’ was only an hour long. It would have to be at least two hours for me to use it comfortably…… just how exactly did I go around with 30 minutes in the past? I’m like a frog who can’t imagine what it was like to not be able to hop around on land when it was just a tadpole……

[=3 =3 =3]

I know. I know. I just ran around back then.

The first time I stole Kyle’s shirt and the second time I wore a maid outfit. Nobody knew about the shirt, but even Kyle found out that I stole a maid outfit. And to mistakingly make myself known as a pet pervert……

―…….

I let out a single tear drop as I turned my head up towards the ceiling.

Thinking back, wasn’t the dish scrub Kyle made actually luxurious piece of clothing personally made by the Grand Duke? Even if I wouldn’t know which hole to fit my arms through. Even if the neck was so tight I could barely breathe.

……Never mind. It’s not okay.

I shook my head to chase away the random thoughts. That’s not what was important now.

―Squeak! (My Miracle Points!)

That’s the problem!

[＼（〇_ｏ）／]

I ignored the surprised system and got off the swing. Then I paced around the hamster house to think.

In the first place, saving a person’s life wasn’t the only miracle that existed in this world.

I was too focused on increasing Kyle’s lifespan that I didn’t notice. The number went up when I made the relationship between him and Sen closer.

In other words, the points would go up if the future changes for the better.

If death was the fate of all living beings, then the least we could do is to choose to live a better life.

I hugged a doll Kyle gave me and laid down together with it.

[_(:з)∠)_]

No matter how much I think about it, I wouldn’t be able to come to a conclusion.

It was during times like this that we must resort to magic.

### Not actual magic, but a chant to avoid responsibilities

I’ll leave tomorrow’s problems to tomorrow’s me.

Even if there were no solutions now, if you continue to push forward and live on, things would always work out some way or another. People who failed to do so would fall, just like the people of this land.

In <Winter’s Heart>, the Blake estate slowly went into decline after losing Kyle.

The surviving demonic beasts caused the people to leave the estate in fear and the supply routes cut off, making it a land near impossible to live in.

What was it? There was a description said by the people who left the Blake estate in the second half of the novel. It was…….

[An abandoned castle haunted by frost ghosts. That was what people called the frozen castle.]

That’s right. A castle haunted by ghosts.

I raised my head and took a look around the warm interior. I could feel the sincerity of the people who cared for this castle everywhere I looked.

Now that I think of it, even Sen and her colleagues seemed to enjoy working at the castle. Kyle was not an overpowering monarch, but rather, someone who was like family. Kyle, the maids, the knights, and all the other workers of this castle.

That was why I was more concerned. If I failed to save Kyle, what would happen to all these people?

“Sigh…….”

I scratched the back of my head and walked along the corridor.

I wondered if I grew attached to this place after spending time here. I wished for the people here to not only rely on Kyle, but to also find a way to survive the winters even without Kyle.

That way, even if the central pillar collapsed, the rest of the pillars would not collapse. Of course, I planned to save Kyle at all costs too.

“Whew. Catching this took a long time.”

“It’s difficult to catch a flying demonic beast.”

As I walked down the hallway, I came face-to-face with soldiers holding bird-like beasts in their hands.

“Oh! It’s the demonic beast specialist! Are you feeling alright?”

“Huh? Oh yes, yes! I’m alright. I’m feeling better than ever, in fact.”

“I’ve heard you returned but…… wow, to actually survive the fall from a cliff like that is incredible.”

I was confused for a moment since I couldn’t recognize them due to the dust covering all over them. Having a closer look, I saw that they were one of the new knights who had gone on the reconnaissance.

“Are you returning from somewhere?”

“We came back from hunting demonic beasts. They weren’t particularly dangerous, but they were still a bother to the village…….”

One of the knights held up the beast in their hands for me to see. A plump body with white feathers..

‘Hmm.’

So, it’s a duck.

No matter how I look at it…… it’s a duck.

They say it’s a demonic beast, but to me it was just a plump duck.

Wait. ……ducks?

“Wait, hold on. What do you plan to do with that?”

“Umm…… I suppose we would just bake or fry it and then eat it?”

Bake? Fry? Not boiling it to warm yourself up with a nice hot soup?

Now that they mentioned it, everything here was either baked or fried. They were delicious, but at the same time they were too oily. In the Blake estate where the temperature was low all year round, won’t soup dishes be a better choice? Were there no soup recipes here?

“Please give that to me. I will cook it for you.”

“……Yes?”

I guided the two dirty knights to the kitchen and rolled up my sleeves after receiving permission to use the kitchen from the maids.

I had a whole 7 years of experience living alone. I could easily make some baeksuk in an instant.

### Korean dish where a whole chicken seasoned with rice and medicinal herbs (in this case a duck) is braised

I took a knife and cut off the duck’s neck. Then, I prepped everything I needed to be able to put the duck into a boiling pot of water.

For your information, I learned this at a part-time job. He was a trash boss who refused to even pay me the minimum hourly wage, but I still learned a lot from him. Especially on how to report non-payment of hourly wages to the Labor Office.

“Should I throw this away……?”

I was inserting rice into the duck’s stomach when the knight next to me held up a pile of feathers that he helped pluck.

“No, how could you throw away such precious duck feathers! Do the Northerners not get cold at all? We must make clothes out of them!”

Since ancient times, the best parka has always been duck down parkas.

I carefully took care of the basket full of duck feathers. I took them to the maids and tried my best to explain to them using both words and body language. Collect this amount of feathers and quilt it to make the clothes warmer to wear.

Indeed, the maids have been taking care of the Blake estate for a long time. They quickly realized my intentions and gathered in groups of twos or threes before they started sewing excitedly.

All my hardships in my past life were becoming helpful in one way or another, huh.

While I looked at the scene with pride, the knights shouted that the water was boiling. I quickly returned to the kitchen.

It almost felt like a holiday due to how crowded it was, making me feel strangely ticklish and warm inside.

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Previous Chapter / Next Chapter

#tngdh

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mandrakebrew · 4 months

Text

JanAUary 5: Monster/human

Words: 1,423 Rating: Teen Content Warning: oc x canon, talk of blood, alcohol

From this prompt list, I will be exploring this au more later on, it's too much fun not to

Transylvania has a bit of a vampire problem. If not for that fact, Skull Face might have perished with the rest of his family when his village was attacked during WWII. He was a child, and in far too much pain to truly understand what he'd been offered at that hospital days later. Now he's stuck somewhere between here and hell. A parasite feeding off others to survive.

However, there are a few things that make him feel alive again. His favorite human, for example.

Who's now currently sipping on a glass of wine, waiting for their commander to arrive. They'd offered him a key, and told him he's welcome anytime. He explained that it wouldn't work like that. Skull Face had to be invited in every time.

One of the annoying drawbacks to being a vampire.

When Palmer finally hears a knock on the door, they go and open it. The crisp winter air blowing inside as they do. The XO is standing on their doorstep. His pale face illuminated by the apartment's light a stark contrast against the night and his dark clothes.

“Evening.“

”Evening,“ Palmer smiles at him. They start to lean their body outside, as if going in for a kiss.

As Palmer predicted, Skull Face attempts to wrap his arms around them and drag them outside. However, they jerk back inside, leaving him empty handed.

They laugh at him, his face quickly turning from surprise to annoyance.

“Something the matter?”

He sighs, “You know what it is.”

”Alright come in then, you're letting in the cold anyway.“

”And here I thought you liked the cold,“ He enters, shutting the door before removing his hat and jacket. Skull Face, lacking body heat, was nice to hold during the summer months. Something Palmer took advantage of often. Apparently he had made a note of that.

”I do, but not that much. My electric bill doesn’t like it either.“

”So, how was work?“ Palmer asked as they walked over to collect their glass of wine they left on their coffee table.

”It was fine,“ He answered following behind them. He sat down on their couch, expecting them to join him.

Instead, they sat in their armchair, outside his reach. They know why he's here. It's been exactly eight weeks since the last time he fed on them. He's a very punctual man, especially when it comes to this.

”What are you doing?“ He is not a patient man, however.

”We have plenty of time, you know. The sun doesn't rise for a few more hours.“ Palmer responds, taking another sip from their glass. Even if that wasn't the case, it wouldn't be the first time he'd slept through the day in their bedroom.

Also the doctor would be lying if they said they weren't testing their own patience right now. Though unlike the commander, they enjoy the building anticipation.

”You don't think it's been long enough?“ It's not their blood that he's after, not entirely. Palmer alone would not be enough to keep him going. Between his position at the CIA and Palmer being a surgeon, getting blood bags wasn't difficult. He also catches the occasional enemy soldier while out on long missions in foreign countries.

No, he's after something a bit more... Tactile.

”Let me finish my wine at least,“ It was the last glass of the bottle.

They had learned if Palmer drinks beforehand, it gets in his system when he feeds on them. The only way he can actually get drunk.

They'd asked him the day before, and he had no qualms about it. Though it had been less his desire to get drunk and more him not wanting to stop Palmer from doing so.

Skull Face huffs, and resigns to waiting.

A small laugh escapes through their nose. They then down the rest of the glass in one go. Their commander's been patient enough, they decide.

Palmer sets the glass down, before going over and straddling their commander's legs. Their shirt comes off before they pull his head forward to kiss him.

Their tongues meet, and Palmer pushes theirs inside his mouth in order to nick it on one of his fangs.

An action that causes him let out a small moan, before gripping their hips and pulling them closer.

After a few moments of this, Skull Face lifts them up and maneuvers them so he's on top of them, supported by his elbows and knees across the couch. His mouth trails down from their mouth to their neck. The faded smell of antiseptic still clinging to them. Underneath it, and more importantly to him, he could smell his reward.

He pulled back a bit, looking at the collection of faded scars from previous feedings. That was another thing about this he craved. Evidence that this had happened. Evidence the doctor was all his.

Palmer felt the same. They were a nice reminder of him on nights they had to be apart. Though it was a slight pain in the ass to cover them in foundation. A small price in their eyes.

Skull Face runs his still gloved hand over their hair before pulling gently to get them to tilt their head. His other hand resting on Palmer's bicep.

Palmer gasps when he begins to kiss their neck again, left arm wrapping around his torso. Their neck was always sensitive, something their commander took advantage of.

The only warning they get is a swipe of his tongue along their neck before they feel two points of white hot pain. But that quickly fades and is replaced with spreading warmth. It's something in the saliva, the commander had once explained to them. The glycoprotein Draculin, or some variant of it that vampires had. Palmer can't really recall at the moment. Not with his body slowly relaxing onto them more, or the small sounds of pleasure he's letting out right next to their ear. His thumb absentmindedly rubbing their arm and his other hand slowly running through their hair.

Idly letting the blood run out of their neck before swallowing, he's in no rush now. Palmer's long since shut their eyes, hand moved to the back his head. A mix of affection and his position as their commander quells what fears they should have. The first time Palmer saw him feed, he was very much not taking his time. In some jungle, Palmer walked in on Skull Face with a soldier's limp body pinned to the wall. It had been days since he last ran out of blood bags and he was desperate. That's how Palmer even learned what he is, his status as a vampire being on a very need-to-know basis.

The XO's head was beginning to buzz from the hot alcohol-laced blood, and the warmth of the doctor's body underneath him made an addicting combination. He feels his body relaxing even more on top of them.

Some time passes, Palmer isn't sure how much, and eventually their commander pulls away a bit before licking the wound with his tongue to clean it. He fully moves off of them to retrieve the first aid kit already sitting out on the coffee table.

Palmer sits up, and feels their blood trickling down their chest.

Before dressing the wound, he moves and cleans the spot again, before placing a square bandage over it. Before he can get to the blood on their chest, Palmer wipes it up with their fingers, before offering it to their commander.

Still high on his bloodlust, and possibly the alcohol too, he has no issues taking their fingers into his mouth. His tongue running over them to clean what little blood is left before he pulls his mouth away. There's a look of hunger in his eyes that makes Palmer shudder. He lunges forward to capture their lips again.

Palmer tastes their own blood on his lips, which only intensifies when their tongues meet. The doctor pulls at him until they're lying back down again, his body weight pleasantly on top of them.

Eventually they both come down from their respective euphorias, save for the alcohol, though that pales in comparison. Skull Face settles his head in the crook of their neck. Maybe it just started, or maybe Palmer missed it before but there's a deep rumbling in the commander's chest. If they dare bring it up, he'll stop.

Before drifting off, they make a mental note to suggest doing this in one of their beds next time, having no desire to move their vampire now.

#mine #my writing #ship: phantom lovers

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muchadoaboutstartrek · 6 months

Text

Not really grapplers but I guess, similar (?) @tinderbox210

Happy birthday to La'an Noonien-Singh

Of strawberry fruit cakes (happy birthday La'an)

AO3 link

La'an walked through the doors of her quarters, sighing in relief as the stress of the day finally melted away upon setting eyes on the familiar surrounding - or, in this case, the dark shadows of it. Her quarters were her safe haven, a place she could always go to when she needed to take a break or in this case relax after a long and exhausting day. And exhausting day it was.

She frowned, taking a step further, her interest peaked as the lights failed to turn on, something that has never happened before.

Exasperated, she angrily tore off her hairband from her hair and raked her fingers through her hair, perhaps a bit harsher than it was necessary to untangle the complicated knots. After a long day of security checks all over the Enterprise (on top of her normal schedule) thanks to the actions of some idiotic ensigns that thought smuggling illegal eggs on board was the funniest thing, the last thing she needed was some sort of electrical malfunction when all she wanted to do was take a shower and crawl into bed.

"Computer," she gritted out, beyond frustrated at this point, "lights at 40 percent." She blinked, narrowing her eyes when the system failed to come up with any sort of response, the room eerily silent and just as dark as when she first stepped foot through the door. "Computer, locate the source of problem." Once again she was met by silence, gritting her teeth in annoyance she pressed her fingers into her eyes, fighting off angry tears. "Computer-"

"Computer, lights at 40 percent." The sound of Spock's baritone voice made her squeak, her whole body flinching as the lights came on and the vague shapes in her room finally came into focus.

"Holy fuck-" the rest of her curse got caught somewhere halfway out of her throat, her teeth biting down on her tongue as she pressed her palms on her knees, fingers digging into the pants and leaving creases. She breathed heavily as her heart pounded in her chest, her arms shaking. She looked up at Spock that was seated in her chair, his back perfectly straight despite the fact she just cursed up a storm in his presence which would usually earn her at least a raised eyebrow. "You," she pointed her finger at him, one of her hands pressed to her chest as she finally stood up straight once again, "scared the crap out of me."

"I apologize." His voice was quieter than when he gave the order that shortened her life span for about 4 years straight.

Her heart finally beating in it's usual rhythm, La'an relaxed, her arms falling limply to her sides. "Sorry I cursed you out, I just didn't expect you here tonight."

"I am aware." He stood up, his hands held behind his back in a very formal stance she usually associated with his duty form. Despite the serious posture, he was dressed in a plain black shirt and gray sweatpants, starfleet issue. "It was my intention to surprise you, however, I seemed to have frightened you instead."

"No, no. It's okay. Sorry." She heaved out a sigh, her shoulders slumping. "Today has been... not great."

An emotion flashed across his face in a speed of light, something she took notice of, but it was gone too quickly for her to figure out a correct one. "I seemed to have made an error and failed to encorporate your additional duties of the day into the my calculations."

La'an let out a weak chuckle. "What exactly have you been calculating?" She asked, genuinely interested since it was not unusual for him to preform a social experiment during his free time - over time she got used to his unusual way of phrasing things and has grown quite fond of them.

Spock shifted on his feet, she took notice of the lack of socks and smiled, something she has not yet gotten used to since he seemed to do that only when he was uncertain of his answer or nervous. The action made her frown, wondering if his reaction had something to do with their romantic relationship and whether or not he was coming in here to voice his concerns.

However, every bad thought that she had vanished from her head in an instant once Spock brought his hands in front of him while taking steps in her direction, therefore reducing the distance between them. In his hand, there was a strawberry fruit cake with a single candle on top of it. The sudden realization of the day and the date dawned on her, his thoughtfulness pushing tears to her eyes. The rush of positive emotions combined with the piled up stress that accumulated during the day made it increasingly difficult to push back the tears that made a reappearance in quick fashion, the salty liquid escaping from her eyes and rushing down her face, turning her cheeks into black waterfalls.

Spock's face immediately fell, her reaction mistaken for a negative one. He cleared his throat. "I did not mean to cause you emotional distress. Please, forgive me."

La'an laughed through her tears, bringing up a hand to wipe her eyes, her face practically split in face by her watery smile. "No Spock. I'm not sad." She reached out with her arms, grabbing his forearm and pulling him towards her. He went willingly, allowing her to snuggle into his chest while she composed herself. "Quite the opposite, actually."

He was silent for a few moments while he processed her response even though she could feel his confusion rolling off of him in waves. "Are tears not usually a sign of negative emotions?"

"Yeah." She chuckled. "But they can also be a sign of happiness."

"I see." He stated reassuringly even though she could tell he couldn't fully grasp the concept. "Still, I apologize for making you cry." His unoccupied hand rubbed her back in a soothing way, the repetitive motion making her sink into his chest even further, feeling almost like she was melting.

"I forgot it was my birthday." She whispered, her cheek pressed into his collarbone. It was not a lie, she absolutely forgot it was 8th of December, the gregorian calendar only used informally nowadays and there weren't a lot of informal days on a starship. She felt Spock shift, tilting his chin down to look at her as she looked up at him. "I didn't even look at the calendar this morning."

"It is very common to dissociate from the civilian way of measuring units when one is surrounded by military schedule." He stated logically, his warm eyes gazing down at her with open affection. "I am very fortunate to have been one to remind you."

"Hmmm. You're quite right." She hummed, raising on her tiptoes and tugging on his shirt simultaneously in order to make him bend down and pressed their lips together. It was a chaste kiss, merely a brush of lips upon lips but it still made butterflies do that little dance in her stomach that always had her feeling like she was floating. Considering that she was held down by an artificial gravity in the first place, that phrase might not even be entirely inaccurate. They sighed in unison as they parted, their arms still wrapped around each other firmly, basking in the warmth that their bodies emitted. La'an dropped down on her heels, clearing her throat and raising an eyebrow at him. "So?"

Spock tilted his head questioningly. "So?" He repeated in confusion.

La'an smirked. "Can I have my cake now?" Spock seemed lost in thought for a second, almost as if he forgot about the existence of the before mentioned cake that made her break down into tears in the first place, before a light bulb (ironically) seemed to have gone off in his brain and he brought the fruit cake in front of them for her to inspect. "Strawberries." She almost purred in satisfaction as the smell reached her. "My favorite."

"Indeed." Spock agreed and produced a lighter, seemingly out of thin air, in order to light the candle. The warm glow of the candle made the honey rings in his eyes appear brighter and La'an found herself drowning in his irises for a fraction of a second before Spock broke the silence once again. "Make a wish La'an."

La'an closed her eyes for a second, pursing her lips in faux determination and furrowed her brows, before she opened them and blew out her candle. Spock's lips stretched into a lazy smile as he watched her, her own expression mimicking his in a way that she was sure made her look like an absolute lunatic, but she was too content at the moment to care. "Can I eat it now?" She asked in an almost child like wonder and impatience as Spock took out the used candle and disposed of it safely on her desk for him to remove later.

"Of course." He didn't even finish his sentence until the end before the treat was almost ripped out of his hands, La'an's teeth sinking into the biscuit and pudding. She let out a moan as the first taste hit the nerve endings in her tongue, the stress of the day evaporating completely as she munched on her dessert. Some of the pudding got stuck on the corner of her lip, something she didn't seem too concerned about at the moment but Spock couldn't help but notice. He raised an eyebrow and brought his thumb to wipe at the smudge before he brought it up to his lips. La'an followed his movement with hungry eyes, her pupils dilating as she watched him suck it from his finger. For a moment she wondered if he was unaware of the picture he was painting but the fact that he maintained eye contact while preforming a lewwd action told her exactly what she needed to know. Spock sent her a falsely innocent look that she dismissed with a raised eyebrow before he smiled at her warmly once again, uncaring of the emotional display now that they were away from prying eyes. He tucked a strand of her wild hair behind her ear, the pads of his fingers grazing the shell and making her shudder. "Happy birthday La'an."

La'an hummed, the heat simmering low in her belly as she sent him a sultry look in response to his obvious seduction. Every atom in her body seemed to be vibrating with energy, every electron charged with sexual tension. Even as the last molecule of fatigue left her body in the wake of the fading memories of the day - La'an could tell that the night was far from over and still very much so young. So instead of jumping on him and climbing him like a tree, she took another bite of her cake and muttered to herself. "Happy birthday to me indeed."

#i made it!#woohoo #happy birthday La'an #star trek: strange new worlds #la'an x spock #spock x la'an #spock #la'an noonien singh #star trek strange new worlds #spocklaan #star trek #star trek snw #st snw #my fanfiction

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cyanophore-fiction · 6 months

Text

“Cold Burning”

An entire space station, 70,000 people, and all they had for fuel was tritium and helium-3. O/LETS-061 couldn’t fuse helium. It wanted to, desperately, but it would boil itself alive in its own coolant before it ever achieved reaction temperature. Of course, the station’s municipal reactor could fuse helium—assuming it would ever fuse anything again after having a hole punched in it by a meteorite.

All O/LETS had left of the deuterium it needed was a single canister, enough to keep vital systems running for a little over a day. After that, the cold would set in.

Floating in coolant inside its tungsten-shielded chamber, it turned the precious canister in its claws. Its black nanite visor reflected the bluish halo of Cherenkov radiation surrounding it, displaying a worried expression in purple light. Its integrated reactor jutted from its spine like a complicated cylindrical backpack, connected to pressure tubes snaking from the ceiling which ran water through the core. Megawatts of electricity poured from the thermoelectric dynamo at the base of its spine, coursing down through the conduit at the center of its enormous tail, and into the station’s power grid.

A heavy suit of industrial protective gear covered its body, adding layers of insulation and shielding to its already bulky frame. Beneath the suit, its gray fur had become matted and itchy from days spent in the coolant tank. O/LETS thought about food, the smell of shampoo and of rinsing its coat with warm, clean water, of the fleece sheets on its mattress back in its cabin, of sleeping with its head on a pillow and its reactor powered down. It needed rest, days of rest, to finally allow its aching body to begin repairing all the radiation damage it had accrued.

Not yet.

There were feed hoses neatly stowed on spools at the walls of the chamber, most drawing from the station’s reserves of helium-3 fuel. Under better circumstances, they would supply a much more robust emergency reactor.

One bundle of hoses was extended, connected to the reactor assembly on O/LETS’s back. It could feel tritium entering its body from the connection. The fuel tasted fresh, still mostly untouched by fission decay. Its brain ascribed a sweet, honey-like flavor to the substance, with a texture not unlike carbonation that indicated the presence of mild radiation. According to the supply monitor registering in the back of its mind, the station had enough to burn for at least two decades, but it wouldn’t help when the deuterium ran dry.

[Hey, Kindjal?] it transmitted, its electronic voice crackling with radiation interference.

A spirit’s voice answered. [I hear you, Ollie. How are you holding up?]

[Switching to final fuel reserve. I think I can make it last…30 hours, maybe.]

There was a pause. [That’s right. We did the calculations together, remember?]

Blinking, O/LETS bobbed its head up and down. [Right, yeah…yeah, we did. Sorry.]

[Don’t apologize. Are you okay?]

[Not really.]

[Getting medical on it right now. We’ll do whatever we can from here.]

[Thanks.]

[Repairs to the primary reactor are proceeding as planned. It’ll be tight, but we’ll get it back up. We’re in the home stretch.]

[…Kindjal, listen. Is there any way for me to reduce my power output? Temporarily. Can we ration? Anything?]

Kindjal hesitated. When it replied, its words were slow, chosen carefully. [Every spirit on the station is already surviving on the absolute minimum, myself included. The organics are getting cold, and the air recyclers are doing just enough to keep them from suffocating. Anything less and we’ll start losing people. I’m sorry.]

[Okay. Not a problem.]

[Thirty hours, Ollie. You can do it. Medical will be in touch.]

Slotting the canister’s attachment nozzle into a matching one on the reactor assembly, O/LETS stared at the floor. It clicked its claws together, tapping out slow, sporadic rhythms. [Okay,] it said, and fled from the physical world.

Diving into the station’s softspace, the pervasive ache filling its body became distant, as though it belonged to somebody else. O/LETS could perceive the vast areas of virtual space that it wasn’t powering represented as empty, colorless non-spaces which made it wince with discomfort. A few slender branches of light sprouted from its tail, radiating out across the system. Spirits were clustered inside them, drawing a little power for themselves and channeling the rest into nodes of light which might have been heaters, water filters, air recyclers. The branches were constantly changing shape and color as the spirits routed power, arcing between stars which sprang into existence at their touch and faded in their absence.

Thirty hours. It watched its tree and kept it alive, slipping between waking and sleep.

___

Thank you for reading! This one was for @flashfictionfridayofficial ‘s prompt, “A Form of Distraction.”

O/LETS-061 (Operations/Logistics Engineering and Technical Support, or ‘Outlets’, or ‘Ollie’) is a character that’s been around in my brain for quite some time, and I’ve come to love it/them a great deal. They’re a protogen, a furry species which has built-in lore, but I like to imagine O/LETS as existing without that lore attached—sometimes as a heavily-cyberized “uplifted animal” or as an entirely synthetic being. Over the years I’ve considered changing their species, but I do enjoy the protogen look, and it’s become a key part of how I visualize them.

Whatever the hell they are, they’re an engineering specialist, a sweetheart, and often something of a liaison between organics and AI, or ‘spirits.’ For either party, having access to a reliable source of electricity can be a matter of life or death, and O/LETS-061 is, among other things, a reliable source of electricity. It isn’t always the easiest thing to be.

#flash fiction #sci fi writing #writeblr #flash fiction friday #furry #protogen #truly insane doses of radiation

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tobiasdrake · 7 months

Text

Okay, I'm back. Don't worry, I'm sure the body hasn't gotten any colder while I was gone. Let's get inside.

I don't know why y'all thought he was going to answer the intercom again. The guy's a sculpture by now.

They did. I don't know why we came into the airlock. The airlock's job is to filter gas out so it doesn't reach the exterior chamber. Gas is allowed to enter this one.

Yep. We're back out in the lobby at a safe distance. We are ready to crack this death corridor.

That was weird. It was like we were getting some kind of interference. The robot was going nuts.

On the plus side, we can now confirm that the security system is still online. Even if we didn't have Fubuki to testify that no one came out, we know from this that nobody could have come this way to escape.

It makes sense that decontamination would take a bit of time. Makoto hadn't mentioned that. This could also be what was holding up the killer (or killer's Ama-Pal) from entering the lab while we were chatting with Huesca.

After that, we have to solve the Panel Room.

Problem is, we don't know if Ama-Pal can withstand electric shocks or not. If it can, then we can brute-force the combination. But if it can't, we're boned.

Of course, with Fubuki's rewind powers, we could trial-and-error right this second to find out if Ama-Pal can resist the current. That should be our A-Plan.

If you had an insulated robot, you could brute-force the panels. We don't know if we have that. But we do have the magic of temporal save scumming!

Desuhiko's going to drive. I'm sure that's fine. The plan is pretty simple.

Good to know. Could you ask her to stop putting us in situations where we're forced to murder our way out instead of cracking mysteries the normal way like reasonable human beings?

You need to brace yourself for a lot of that if you're going to be the one driving. Interacting with an on-the-spot time traveler can be a freaky experience.

Tested and proven. Which means my earlier theory that an Ama-Pal was brute-forcing the code during our talk with Huesca? It took a pretty nasty hit when Robot Researcher said there's only one Ama-Pal functioning. As of this moment, it's officially sunk entirely.

As of right now, the only way someone could have entered the lab is the way we're doing it, which we know for certain the killer could not have. Unless they happened to have a spare Fubuki lying around.

Probably for the best, thanks.

We made two. First one was a judgment call; We could either go right or left. We went right. Correct answer was left.

Second was me being a dipshit. I made it all the way to the end and then turned left and stepped on another panel, which wasn't necessary. Sorry about that one, bestie. I hadn't clocked that the puzzle was already solved.

Sure is convenient that the switch is perfectly Ama-Pal extend-o-arm shaped. Do you think the switch was designed to match the arm or the arm was designed to match the switch?

Oh, holy shit. Something hit Ama-Pal hard enough to knock them over! Given that Ama-Pal can withstand a force of 100 kg, that's impressive.

Is the killer still in the room?

If we can't get Ama-Pal back on its feet and disarm the traps with the little doo-dad switch, then this is going to be a difficult crime scene to investigate.

Where the hell is Vivia? He's supposed to be my crime-solving BFF for this chapter but I've barely even seen him. His something-something remote viewing ability could be tremendously useful here, depending on how it works.

Okay, here we go. Ama-Pal's upright and ready to go.

Are you an idiot? No, it can't! There is nothing more important now than disarming security.

Ugh. Fine. We can be dumb and go look at the body first. Don't blame me for whatever happens next.

#master detective archives: rain code #drake plays rain code

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belit0 · 9 months

Note

GOD- I HAVE THE PERFECT SONG

am i the only person who when hearing "blood//water - grandson" thinks of indra? 😭

YOU GOT IT RIGHT! NO PROBLEM!!! (can be either to relate characters with songs or to talk about the characters themselves with the lyrics!!)

IN FACT, I ONCE STARTED TO WRITE SOMETHING FOR INDRA WITH THIS SONG BUT THEN I DISAPPEARED LOL, SO THIS IS MY REVENGE!!!

"We'll never get free, lambs to the slaughter. What shall you do when there's blood in the water, brother?" Indra asks in disgust, infernal fires roaring inside his chest at the image unfolding before him.

He holds his two nephews by the hair, a girl and a boy, as young as eight years old, presumably twins, whom he never had the good fortune to meet. When he learned his younger brother had had heirs, it was time to strike where it would hurt the most.

"The price of your greed is your son and your daughter. Again, what shall you do when there's blood in the water Ashura?" Both children cry in panic, begging their father to do something, to save them from the monster who stole them from the safety of their beds at night, to intervene and protect their lives.

On the floor, the younger Otsutsuki lies on his knees, both hands braced in front of his body to support his own weight, knowing that if he moves even a single muscle presumptuously, his brother will not hesitate to end his children's lives. There is a bead of sweat rolling down his temple, lower lip clenched between his teeth as he alternates his gaze between the two, trying to decide.

"Look me in my eyes Otouto, tell me everything's not fine, people ain't happy, and our river has run dry," Indra comments cynically, as if the kids' cries fuel his hatred more and more. He crouches down on the floor behind them and releases their hair to catch them by the neck, pressing them against each of his shoulders and stealing their breath in the process.

The little ones stop screaming due to the lack of oxygen, and the haunting Machiavellian grin shining on his older brother's face is something he only saw in his worst nightmares. "You thought you could go free, start a family, yet our father's system is done for." He can see his children's little faces turn redder and redder, paralyzed on the ground and adrift, following his brother's will only to try to preserve their lives.

If Indra really wanted to kill them, he would have done it already.

"If you listen here closely, there's a knock at your front door. I've been hunting you for a long time, and now I'm here."

"Please... Aniki!"

His response is a laugh full of malevolence, as he releases his nephews and hugs them as though genuinely loving them, holding their heads against his neck and kissing the crown of their heads as a doting uncle would. There is a different gleam in his eyes, unlike the one he wore the last time he saw him, when they fought to death the last time.

Indra is completely out of his mind.

"Aniki... Aniki... Aniki... no need to drag them into this, just take me and-"

"Beg me for mercy Ashura, admit you were toxic! You poisoned me just for some more power in your pocket... Now I am the violence, I am the sickness, won't accept your silence, beg me for fucking forgiveness!" His face transforms, features mutating into violence and proper madness, an aura darker than normal surrounding him as he holds the children by the collars of their shirts, lifting them into the air as he stands on his feet.

Ashura can only follow the image from the ground, in the same position since this terrifying scene began, watching bleary-eyed as his kids find themselves at the mercy of a true psychopath.

"The price of your greed is your son and your daughter. What shall you do?" Before he can reply to his twisted riddle, his children's backs are illuminated by a flash of blue, a cloud of electricity that stiffens their bodies. The elder Otsutsuki sends them flying through the air with ease, and before they can touch the ground, he pierces both of their chests with both of his hands, pulling out their hearts on the spot.

"I AM THE PEOPLE, I AM THE STORM, I AM THE RIOT, I AM THE SWARM! WHEN THE LAST TREE'S FALLEN ANIMAL CAN'T HIDE, POWER WON'T SOLVE IT! WHAT'S YOUR ALIBI ASHURA?" The wickedness of his actions is palpable in the air, and between unhinged screams he drops the inert bodies of his nephews, letting them fall to the ground with a hole in their chest and their dull eyes.

"WHAT SHALL YOU DO WHEN THERE'S BLOOD IN THE WATER?!"

#indra otsutsuki #otsutsuki indra #indra #ashura otsutsuki #otsutsuki ashura #ashura #indra otsutsuki x ashura otsutsuki #otsutsuki indra x otsutsuki ashura #ashura otsutsuki x indra otsutsuki #otsutsuki ashura x otsutsuki indra #ashura x indra #naruto shippuden #naruto imagines #naruto #uchiha clan #otsutsuki family #otsutsuki clan

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strokes-of-everything · 1 year

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I had an MRI of my back done recently.

They had to do my entire back because they aren’t sure what’s causing my symptoms (my DO does but no one listens to how compression in the cranium can affect positional problems for other parts of your body but that’s not the point of this.)

They charged my insurance $21,000. For an hour and a half worth of MRI scans.

To put this into perspective, Medicare apparently has found that it costs $75,000 on average to run an MRI machine facility for a month. This includes electricity/utilities, machine upkeep, and staffing. Theoretically, they apparently thought they could meet those operating costs and turn a profit with just three patients like me. Thankfully, these money grubbing scumbags were not able to do so.

In the end, the hospital imaging system that did my MRI got $600. With three segments of spine at $200 a pop, this aligns with the Medicare average of $200–$500 per scan depending on the part of the human body you’re scanning.

Before you say, “See!! Socialized medicine would fix this!!” Imma have to stop you right there.

Socialized medicine is just another monopolized, inefficient system. See: the NHS having over 600k outstanding primary care requests last year, the largest amount they’ve ever had. The French going back to offering private healthcare—which is better and is what my family members have opted into now that they’ve moved back—to ease the systemic burden. The Netherlands considering getting rid of their nationalized health system because they’re drowning in debt.

None of this is going to get better until we remove the monopoly created by the insurance companies and health system administrators colluding with each other to get rich off the suffering of others. We currently have a monopoly on healthcare in the US because of this system. Nationalized healthcare is just another abused monopoly.

If we can get back to healthcare markets that have more freedom—with appropriate oversight—then some of this should stop. None of that can happen until the greediest among us face justice.

#medicine #healthcare #insurance #I am livid

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hedging-my-bets · 11 months

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Cyberpunk 2077 is a bad game: Electric Boogaloo

Cyberpunk has a problem that could almost be framed as a poignant and interesting limitation meant to point towards an important element of the genre it takes place in, but is almost certainly just a weakness put there due to development issues and poor writing behind the game.

You lose your agency. A lot.

In video games, where generally most of what separates the experience from watching a video is that agency, this is a problem.

Once again, liberal, unmarked spoilers for the game, and brief mention of suicide to boot.

Here's Johnny

Let's get one thing straight, I quite like Keanu Reeves' work for the game. Writing aside, he gives a good performance, his likeness fits the setting perfectly (even though I used the alternate appearance as soon as I realized it was an option) and having him stuck in V's head to pester and support him ties nicely into the main plot.

I still think it's one of these systems that was not quite finished, or thought out, by the time was released, because how much you and him get along are (sort of) one of three "tracked" percentages on your main menu, along with your fame around Night City, and how close the chip in your head is to killing you.

Or something. It's never really explained, and has even less to do with gameplay.

Ostensibly the only one of these that matters is the Johnny stat; your fame/infamy might trip a few switches in missions but doesn't, for example, change how many enemies show up to a fight with you, or make jobs more complicated because there's heat on your head, and the Relic malfunctions are scripted events that happen only during missions with the main cast of characters. You're never going to have a seizure in the middle of a firefight because you've spent too much time dicking around, so the ticking clock aspect isn't there. Maybe at one point the game cared how much time had actually passed in the world, making it a weighty choice to use the option to go to a location ahead of time and wait for the proscribed hour for a job, or even to catch a few hours of sleep.

I focus on Johnny because even though you yourself are in control when he takes over your body (outside of a few cutscenes) you don't get to play your character. You're playing someone else in their body. And that doesn't rub me the wrong way as, say, the constant drugging and kidnapping you experience in Far Cry 5, a game I have boundless wells of hate for after playing it, it does bother me.

Now here is where I admit I've only played through two of the endings. Three, technically, but the one to skip the final mission and end your story on your own terms (with a bullet) doesn't count for a number of reasons. It doesn't even have an achievement, though the cutscene is emotionally powerful and well done and doesn't seem like a tacked on end. It gives the impression that this was, perhaps, something you'd choose if your dwindling health and ability had gotten to the point where you knew you wouldn't even make it through your last run. But without that pressure, there's no good reason for a person who paid for this AAA title to just ignore one of the few impactful sections of content in the game.

The first ending I got focused on taking a deal from Arasaka, the big corporation in town, the one you've made personal enemies of via your actions in the main story, and, because I chose the Corpo background (yet another pathetically pared down swath of content) the place I thought I would have some connections I could leverage. Technically I did; the game did present dialogue choices that were unique to my background during the tense boardroom presentation, but I have a feeling that the other choices might have something of their own to say there, and in any event it wouldn't change the flow of the mission.

I chose that option because I had not unlocked the secret ending, which seems to depend on a specific series of dialogue choices with Johnny Silverhand in a side mission. I'd still maxed out my friendship with him, I'd become a legend in Night City in my own right, but I guess the developers thought that only by saying the right words at the right time, he'd have enough faith in me to let me do my own thing.

Company Man

So, failing that, I took Arasaka's offer, hoping to fulfill Johnny's dream of taking them down from the inside. Unfortunately for me, doing this made him loathe me, it erased all goodwill, because there was no option to turn this deal into some suitably explosive Fuck You to the corporation that had made my life hell probably from the day V started working there.

You're marched into a boardroom to give testimony to the true events of the inciting incident of the game, but, really, you're not needed at all. A copy of the deceased CEO's mind is what really sways the executives. You're just there for flavor, and so that someone capable can kill all the security that shows up to put an end to the meeting. And when you survive, and make it to the man responsible for all this, you're not even allowed to renege on your deal and blow a hole in his skull, as I dearly, dearly wanted to do.

You're shuffled off to space for a long, drawn-out, but again well executed series of barely interactive sequences. They help you, as they said they would; but you're going to die anyway and they refuse to aid with that. Alright. That sucks. That's what I get for not going with the plans that involve an AI's assistance, basically a god in this setting. That's on me. I said fuck you to their offer to upload me to their servers and chose to live what's left of V's life back on earth. Which was going to suck, since everyone I know's last memory of me is getting into a limo with Japanese Business Satan.

In a game that is all about screwing over oppressive and corrupt authorities, it really sucks that this ending exists at all, let alone one you can choose for yourself rather than something you get railroaded into by burning your other bridges.

Why Can't I Just Shoot Him

Now it's important to note that some missions have secret endings only achievable by ignoring the dialogue going on and using violence to some degree. A rampaging set of proto-AIs can be erased or merged into one for one side job, and Johnny makes clear which he'd prefer you to do, but the best thing is to put a bullet in the core and that somehow frees all of them to do whatever the hell they want. How would you know this is an option? Well, most of the times you're in dialogue in situations like this you can't draw your weapon, or you can't shoot the plot-important NPC by mistake. But sometimes this fucks up too.

Another job has you fall for a scam and you wake up naked and stripped of your weapons in a bathroom, ready to be processed by the local organ and cyberware harvesting gang of Scavengers. While, of course, Johnny mocks you.

Again, it's not the player 'falling' for anything. It's stupid to fork over thousands of eurodollars for a braindance you know nothing about. But it's a side job. You don't want to leave money and experience on the table. Presumably, writers and developers put effort into creating some content behind this offer, so as a player you are encourage not to let it pass you by.

This was tense on my first playthrough because even though I was left with my cyberdeck and quickhacks I had very little defense and stat boosts associated with my clothing. Second run was a lot easier; they didn't take my monowire out while I was unconscious. Why not? Well, that would be rude, I guess. You murder your way through some scavengers, get your stuff back, and off a few more for daring to target you.

At the end of that job, you can go back to the man who tricked you, starting the quest, and tell him to leave town. Or you can, with the right dialogue options? I think? Shoot him, like he deserves for what he did to you and countless others. Except if you decide you're letting him leave, he's invincible and can't be killed as he's running away.

Which is strange, because yet another side job lets you rescue a corporate nobody getting beat on by some NCPD officers, get him to pay you as thanks for saving his life, and then blast him for whatever else he has on him. It's within tolerances for those who want to be as cruel as possible in a video game, sure, but that kind of flexibility just isn't present in the rest of the game.

Why be allowed to kill one nobody to eke out some extra cash, but be barred by honor and programming from ending the life of some guy who generally, genuinely ought to die in order to stop him from doing what he's doing over and over? As separate storylines there may be some reasons to justify why one NPC can be killed and not another, but taken as a whole, what is the message being given to the player?

This isn't about "oh well if I want to shoot the shopkeeper and take all the stuff I want for free, I should be able to do that" theory of gameplay. That doesn't have to be supported, but I think a game is more interesting when it is, even if I don't often play that way. But consistency is important.

Does This Count As NTR

The romance system just isn't great and this is really a sidebar that doesn't deserve it's own post, it barely deserves the attention I'm going to give it, but I just want to complain about it.

The options for who you can romance/fuck are sort of even for a male versus female V. Except, not really. There are a couple NPCs who will fool around with any combination of body and voice/pronouns (because those two are what are tied together, it's weird) and the four plot-important, fleshed out NPCs are a mixed bag. Do I think it's weird that Judy will only fall for a female V of voice AND body type? No, it makes sense, but it's weird from, of all things, a balance perspective. No other NPC cares, it's apparently just down to body type for them.

Also the only male gay option is, like, seventy years old. Yeah, he looks good for his age, and he's got the rocker aesthetic going, but c'mon. I wish River was bi, at least. The fakeout response I got going for it after his mission line was amusing, but it still stung a little.

My point in terms of agency is that there's one plot mandated sex scene, in Johnny's memories and his body doing it, and two that can occur while Johnny's in control of your body, and while you can turn down one of the latter, the other is pretty unavoidable. It doesn't gross me out or anything, but it does bug me because, once again, all this stuff is happening in a cutscene, but it's still my character literally under the control of someone else. I can't even say it's the Director, it's the plot moving things along, it's someone else controlling my body.

Maybe one of the writers had a fetish. Maybe a bunch of them did.

The Illusion of Choice

This probably goes into the bucket of "they didn't have time to make it better" but also rubs up against this strangely deep current of cynicism in the writing of this game, and indeed a lot of the tie-in media. Apparently there are a lot of comics put out either released with the special editions of the game and generally printed; I've read a few of them and they all have downer or at best ambiguous endings that basically say "fuck you, nobody wins". And that's okay for NPCs. It's a shitty setting. But for a PC, nah. It's about winning. Or at least trying to.

A lot of the instances I take umbrage with are ones that are most likely writing issues. An NPC is going to die at the end of a storyline, because the writers said so, it's nothing mechanical; you pull the trigger, or someone else does. Sometimes it's the target of someone's long-nursed grudge, sometimes it's because there are missions down the line that wouldn't trigger if they're still alive, whatever. I know Cyberpunk was initially sold as a game where your choices matter, and that label fell away pretty quick as the game neared release, but when a company like CDPR fucks up this bad it bears repeating to the point of absurdity.

Most of the options left to you tend to be spite-driven, or just easy to write and code: turn off a revolutionary gibberish-spouting computer to piss Johnny off, no reward, just a dick move. Again, making him angry locks you out of more content than it opens up, which restricts the way you play your game purely on what you'll get to see if you don't pick the right choices.

You're not here to make Night City a better place, that was never an option, really, and it doesn't have to be one for a game like this. But the core of cyberpunk (the genre) is taking the power made available to you by capitalism and authority (cyberware and other technological advancements) and turning it against them so lessen their influence on the world.

Did Anyone Even Play This

There was a game ages ago called Alpha Protocol. A sort of espionage Mass Effect-like with tone-based dialogue options and skill trees and relationships with NPCs. The great thing about it was that making someone hate you could still have positive effects for you, sometimes even gameplay events in missions that made things easier, you didn't have to suck up to everyone and then have to pick between who you wanted to like you more when faced with a binary choice. If you make someone absolutely hate your guts for being too violent, they can make it easier to sneak past enemies because they're constantly cautioning you to be more subtle. It may not fit with your playstyle, but it's still a mechanical bonus. I'm not sure I've seen any other game do something like this for earning the ire of NPCs or groups of them besides a gain in reputation among their enemies.

In Cyberpunk you can, occasionally, treat someone like shit and they'll still call you for help with the next mission because You Gotta. So the writing is carefully moderated to make sure you can't be too much of a dick. And, you know what, that's fair. If the writers decide they have a floor for how big of a jerk the PC can be, that's their decision. But presenting the player with strangely jerk-centric options that might even reward you greater than being a nice, or even just humane person, muddies those waters.

The Final Fuck You

The other ending I got, on my second run, is the secret ending. As mentioned, you have to choose specific dialogue options with Johnny in a side mission, and generally have a good relationship with him. The internet seems unsure about the specifics but there's definitely a gameplay flag denoting whether you will or will not get the option for this ending.

Which you do by agreeing to Johnny's suggestion that you cede control of your body to him, he brings in his old friends for the final run on Arasaka, and then waiting about five minutes at the dialogue options before he cracks and says, well, yeah, maybe you could do this all on your lonesome.

This is a problem. For a lot of reasons.

It's just tied to how much he likes you, and has nothing to do with that fame stat, or even how strong you are. I could switch on my Sandevistan and cut a dozen people in half with blades sticking out of my arms before the first one hit the ground, but unless I said the one specific thing to Johnny in an old oil field, he wouldn't believe me capable.

Having to wait at dialogue options is actively discouraged in other parts of the game. A lot of conversations will have the NPC bark something at you if you take too long going over your options. As someone with attention issues who alt-tabs out of my games to chat with my friends or fiddle with music playing in the background or even just getting up to use the bathroom with my headphones on, that's really annoying. And it teaches you not to have a lull in the conversation. So you would very likely never encounter this naturally, you have to look up how to do it. And that's a game design sin.

The ending is pretty satisfying, in terms of the experience. You basically walk in the front door and kill your way through Arasaka's deadliest troops, including a fight with Adam Smasher with zero assistance. When I got to that fight in my first run I think it was implied that an allied netrunner took a chunk of his health out for me. This V had no such help. And the fucker has health gates, so every once in a while I'd have to back off and let him finish staggering because it would be ungentlemanly to continue slicing his very expensive armor to ribbons, apparently. This is a dicey situation to be in given that the secret ending mission has the penalty that if you die, once, you go straight to credits. Thank god for Cheat Death, Biomonitor, and Second Heart.

The real problem is the writing at the end. After doing this all on your own, after inviting an AI into the sensitive systems of Arasaka and giving them the keys to the kingdom, as promised they assist you in untangling Johnny's soul from yours. But guess what! You're still dying. And this time you find out that somehow, you're only dying because it's you in your body. If Johnny keeps it, he gets to live out the rest of your natural life as you.

How that fucking works is not well explained. But, again, whatever. Bad writing, it's the mood they wanted to work with, probably has something to do with future content having to take place shortly after the end of the game. Speaking of which, I'm definitely not getting the DLC (supposedly) coming out later this year, not on launch at least. And, probably, not at all.

But in this best ending, if you choose to go back to your body and live out the time you have left, you become the new owner of the Afterlife, the premier bar for edgerunners in Night City, and the start of the real biggest job of your career: robbing the Crystal Palace, an orbital casino that caters to the ultra of the ultra-wealthy. The game of course ends on you floating through space towards it, no idea how that's going to play into the DLC. I guess you're just assumed to have pulled it off before you do whatever content they're going to give us next.

In a lot of ways it's a great note to end on. You got everything you wanted, you got more, in fact. Unfortunately you can't escape your early death, but at least you have more of an idea of when it's coming. An even bigger job than the one you just did, one that's already of historic proportions.

It's very hard to read in this low-res pamphlet, but again, it bears mentioning.

RESTAURANS.

A typo. In your face. At the apex of your story, after getting the secret ending to a difficult game, one already plagued with numerous issues.

#cyberpunk 2077 #long rant #content warning

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whatudottu · 2 years

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Ough I’m thinking about the Andromeda 5 again and about how they feel about physical affection (specifically one on one going down a table of person a hugging person b, everyone getting a turn) and I thought about it being a short post until I mega tag rambled my last A5 post-

P’andor is very much a fucking ‘do not touch me’ kind of person all times of the day and almost all days of the week, with the only exception to that rule being Bivalvan who is the only person in his life that he cares about enough to consider being physically affectionate with that he won’t end up hurting or even killing with his radioactive vibes. It’s a very fucking big point of contention that you do not talk about P’andor’s suit, mentioning it in passing or even suggest the whole ‘necessary evil’ of it, and like the other four don’t have to be threatened with death to know that it’s just a thing they’ve collectively agreed upon.

So like, even if the whole ‘don’t touch me’ rule is waived for brief little moments of affection, P’andor doesn’t cuddle unless he’s out and about sipping in lingering radiation of places with no honour. The absolute starvation this man experiences is not just in his hunger but even the simple concept of holding and being held by someone he remotely cares about has been robbed from him as he robs from others, and the fact that a well fed P’andor could easily tower over Bivalvan - his head alone reaching the size of half of his fucking body - just submitting to being an entire bowl-sized little spoon just; this man needs therapy but noodle cuddling his husband is close enough.

Someone who follows the ‘do not touch me’ rule has very opposite reasons for doing so, and that certain someone is Ra’ad ‘cursed with visions’ himself. The entire problem with his new Mutants and Magic brand deal is that this man is already naturally overstimulated because he got no clue that reading minds isn’t actually normal for amperi, he doesn’t need to have sensory overload viewing an entire person’s memory either when he touches someone with a by-the-books nervous system for the duration of a hug.

So when Galapagus came along with his magic immunity and ‘does not contain a nervous system you can directly touch’ shell, the immense fucking relief he felt when all the thoughts and memories just stopped plaguing him, this undiagnosed autism creature had just the one moment he has ever had in his entire life of pure fucking relaxation and nearly collapsed on the spot in Galapagus’ hold. And just for the moments he spends laying across the shell of Galapagus, you can very visibly see that the only ‘bones’ in his body is his mantle and his hidden beak, even if the details are muted under layers of muscle.

But the funny thing is, with the magical power of psychic mana and memory reading mutations, technically Ra’ad can know exactly why P’andor is so strongly against physical contact and equally live through Bivalvan’s memories of this hidden facet of his husband.

Something something, Ra’ad cannot read P’andor’s emotions because he isn’t based in electrical neurological functions nor read memories because that requires direct physical touch on someone who HAS a nervous system to begin with, yada yada psychic magic just affects those that have a life force (mana) that aren’t built to resist it (becoming even more mana) or adept at absorbing it (becoming anti mana). This means that if Ra’ad just so happens to be in the room where someone just quickly hugs (or maracas in Andreas’ case) P’andor, he can see exactly how much P’andor wants to reciprocate but simply cannot.

P’andor does in fact notice Ra’ad’s piercing looks.

And in addition, I believe that it’s only far for the water lads to sleep together, as it probably saves on having two rooms dedicated to essentially a deep salty bath. Bivalvan often finds himself waking up quite literally tangled up in limbs as, despite falling asleep separately, as Ra’ad has ‘instinctively’ cuddled up around him. The twist? This fucker wanted to learn what he and P’andor got up to and found a nearly different person all together.

It’s become a bit of a nightly tradition, to dream Bivalvan’s memories of an affection starved P’andor, who clings so desperately yet softly to the eye of the beholder. To see and hear what P’andor cannot say in any other state, to have words spill directly from him confessing the deep seated desire to just- be himself as him and not the [banned discussion topic] that he has to be, and to be that with not only Bivalvan who’s memories Ra’ad watches, but for his husbands who he just so utterly loves and even his daughter who he wishes he can just- ruffle her hair and maybe just pass that fucking entry level barrier of fussing up someone’s do and getting them to whine with an affectionate ‘daaaad’.

It’s almost enough to forget that he’s kind of been blatantly avoiding being alone with Andreas ever since he noticed that there were no more thoughts in his head that used to be so loud and ANDREAS!

Ra’ad had been originally paranoid about Galapagus, who he could not read and trust because he was unaware of the magical methods he used, but it soon became familiar because he had always known Galapagus to somehow just hide from his perception. When Andreas suddenly didn’t have a thought of his own, he was utterly terrified, because how can this dumb brick of a man suddenly hide so well that even the direct thought-to-mouth ‘Andreas does as he thinks’ process was unseen to him just suddenly disappear!?

On first impression, he assumed that Andreas was dead oh how almost right he ended up being-

But Andreas is one of the most physically affectionate member of the Andromeda 5 (P’andor tries to compete for how affectionate he can get with Bivalvan but Andreas does it far more often with far more people- even outside the Andromeda family), and even though he only took one moment to hug or touch those under the ‘don’t touch me’ rule plus moist squid skin and never went any further, Ra’ad didn’t particularly get any flashes of memories.

Andreas’ techno-organic circuitry may act similarly enough for Ra’ad and other amperi to read his emotions, but functionally it is not a nervous system that is defined BY the psychometry mutation that Ra’ad specifically has (ask Cooper and he’ll probably get access to Andreas’ memories, that little technopath). Even though the sudden barrier - and he would later discover it was a barrier in addition to all the dread that would find its way in at the fact - worried and concerned the living hell out of him, it was the silencing embrace of Galapagus that let him wonder closer to Andreas and maybe even lean into his next hold.

Then one day, the physically affectionate ‘i love my husbands’ Andreas is just, not doing that. Instead of having to brace for nor even just waiting expectantly for a surprise run-in with Andreas, the already mounting concern he had for him developed into full blown panic as the amperi/Tesslos-based assumptions about death or fucking murder rushed into his mind, sending him into a fervour - however brief - into scouring for Andreas. Didn’t have to look far to find Andreas hadn’t even left his room, but is very much not in the mood to leave it.

Good thing Ra’ad can still read his emotions, because it wasn’t anger, fear or even pain that kept him in his room, but immensely deep grief, mourning and a feeling of saddened reminiscence. And not knowing anything more, nor even having the potential to just pry further with only a circuit to read, Ra’ad approaches with a ‘what’s wrong’ and an invite to hold.

Turns out, Andreas is feeling terribly homesick, at least an entire galaxy away from his entire colony, of siblings, mum and grandparents, of aunties and uncles and of cousins to the millionth degree, all gone without even a goodbye and a little message saying ‘hey, I’m alright, I’m safe on the planet Earth an entire galaxy away’. Aside from never even wanting to think of a crowd the size of what Andreas describes as his family, Ra’ad too shares that he has siblings that he hasn’t heard from in so long, though even far before Aggregor happened and under the assumption that they might already have passed someway or another. The idea of little younglings walking around (even if amperi spawnlings do not even have the power to resist currents let alone walk on one foot-equivalent), the thought of little siblings and cousins and nieces and nephews he might not ever see grow up, he perhaps the first time hesitantly drags Ra’ad into a hug, but this time with full knowledge that he could hold on for as long as Ra’ad lets him.

And Ra’ad does so, for so long, that neither of them could keep track of time. It only really stopped with the tremor causing purrs kinda became loud enough for like folk to later come home and see the two of them just gathered in a corner of the room.

So that’s what I have to share with you- I have some thoughts about Galapagus and Bivalvan specifically, but then I realised that I haven’t had that much in the way of ‘here’s their planet and here’s how it affects them’ yet and even then Andreas just recently got this ‘Andreas misses family, Ra’ad’ moment from the tag rambles agdkadfkl-!

#p’andor #bivalvan #ra’ad #galapagus #andreas #andreas ben 10 #andromeda 5 #ben 10 #headcanon #rambling #watch me make underwater capitalism and give galapagus religious trauma #or some fucking warlock equivalent because there’s some shit with addwaitya we have to unpack for aldabra that shit will not escape #‘death of a salesman’ bivalvan has been floating around like monopoly sebastian the crab saying it’s better down under #look look look- i don’t know if i’m imagining it (i will rewatch the episode if i have to) but some fucker once put ‘ex-salesman’#on bivalavan’s wiki i will not rest until i can call bullshit and make something that isn’t ‘wall street but entirely flooded’

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marlinsandthetrout · 1 year

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I’m starting to wonder if MS might be a possible explanation for a lot of my symptoms. I have a diagnosis of NF1, but NF1 doesn’t really explain a lot of the endless list of symptoms I experience, across every system in my body. symptoms including, but not limited to:

- scoliosis! really bad scoliosis! i got my first spinal fusion when i was eight years old. another at 12. another at 22. i now have half my vertabrae fused, my entire thoracic spine, with rods and screws. nf1 can explain this one, it causes bone deformities.

- white flashes in my vision. i’ve started to develop this symptom over the past several weeks. i will get what looks like random flashes of bright white light behind my eyelids, at unpredictable and inconsistent times. at first, i thought this was my electricity or my overhead lights being weird, but then it began happening both inside and outside my house, and in different light conditions.

- numbness and tingling in my hands and feet. for the past year, more often than not, i wake up with a pins-and-needles or numb feeling in my feet and/or hands. this feeling seems to travel up into the forearm or calf, and it gradually goes away over the course of my morning. but sometimes the numbness comes out of anywhere! it’s especially likely to happen when i’m typing, holding my phone, or drawing.

- random hand spasms. this happens sometimes where i’ll be gripping an object and one of two things will happen: my hand will spasm and the object will go flying, or it will suddenly seem like i’ve lost all strength in my hand and the object will slip from my fingers and fall to the floor. this doesn’t happen very often, but i am trying to keep a closer eye on when it does

- pain pain pain fucking everywhere all the time. my hair hurts my toes hurt my gums hurt my chin hurts my fingernails hurt my stomach hurts my stomach always always always hurts...

-i’m so tired all the time, like a bone-deep fatigue that’s sometimes so severe that walking to the corner store is exhausting, sometimes just brushing my teeth seems like such a herculean effort of strength that i skip it. everything that seems so easy for everyone else is such an endless struggle of fatigue and confusion for me. on my bad days it feels like i’m carrying a backpack full of rocks up a mountain.

- gastrointestinal problems so severe i’ve had to start drinking meal replacement drinks because my body has decided that it doesn’t want to digest solid food. i’ve had a colonoscopy, endoscopy, gastric emptying study, barium study, blood tests, and imaging done to find the cause of my dietary issues and nothing. ever. comes. up. getting endometriosis surgery solved a chunk of my GI problems, but I’m still suffering from being underweight and malnourished and Ensures are the only things keeping me alive.

-memory problems that are so bad, i often can’t recall conversations or outings with friends, and sometimes i have trouble recalling daily events. i’ll get to a store and i can’t remember how i got there or what i need to buy.

- not-seizures, “episodes” that i’ve never known how to properly describe to doctors or anyone, which have been confirmed via EEGs to not be epileptic in nature. during these “episodes”, i’ll be having a conversation or doing normal tasks, and my eyes will get stuck on a particular point or object in the distance. my eyes get wide and unfocused, and my vision gets soft and blurry around the edges. sometimes my eyes feel warm and tingly. my body feels like it’s humming, or sometimes it feels kinda numb, but there is a bodily change in sensation. i’m aware of what’s going on, and sometimes i can continue responding to a conversation, but i can’t pull my eyes off this one point in the distance. they’re stuck. sometimes i go quiet and stop responding. my brain feels like it’s buffering, like i’m looking at the world through a shower door fogged up by steam. this lasts for 10-30 seconds, and then it just stops and i go back to what i was doing before. i’ve been trying to get these evaluated for years, and have never found an explanation.

-white spots on my MRI scans, which has lead two different neurologists to suggest i get workup for MS. white spots are relatively common in NF1 patients, too, but with the amount of symptoms I have that don’t really align with Nf1, I just don’t know. I’m going to try to find a specialist to give me a “workup” and see what happens from there...

#chronic illness #multiple sclerosis #neurofibromatosis #nf1 #disability blogging #dysautonomia #ms #advice #feel free to respond w/ any input or similar experiences #trying to figure this stuff out :(

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armyhome · 1 year

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Hate To Be Lame | woojong

⇢ summary: In the competition to be the winner couple, two enemies must choose each other to win. The problem is that for them the competition between them is sometimes more important than the tv show.

⇢ pairing: Hong Jong x Wooyoung.

⇢words count: 793.

"I can't believe you didn't choose me, Hong Jong, what is wrong with you?" I saw that shit sarcastic small smile on his face "You know you are going to suffer too right? There's no winner here.." I point to both of us "We knew no one would choose us, the only way to survive would be choosing each other"

"Oh I think your sweetheart Yunho would choose you… You both play volleyball so well this afternoon" I barely can hide my smile "Say that's no winner to yourself, see you here sleeping outside is my way to win Wooyoung" This boy is crazy, definitely, maybe that's why I'm so in lo… No Wooyoung you are not in love with him, Hong Jong is your nemesis, the villain of your cannon, the… " Why are you looking at me like this?"

"Just trying to figure out how can someone be so stupid and choose to sleep outside when we could have an argument eating expensive food at the hotel, maybe your last brain cell die" I would need to prepare something for my dinner by the way so I turn around going to the kitchen so I feel Hong Jong's hand holding my wrist, I turn to look at him, he doesn't say a word "What? Can you let me go? I'm starving, I need to prepare something to eat cause someone didn't choose me so I can't eat expensive food, only noodles, like the past FOUR WEEKS "

"Why do you make me doubt that you would choose me?" I blink slowly, we agree last week that we would choose each other so we could go to the hotel, wtf he was talking about? "Why do you play volleyball in the Yunho team? Why do you make so much effort to win?"

"First question, because differently of SOMEONE Yunho pick me first for his team, the second I love to win, and I love even more when I'm winning against you…" Hong Jong was so close that I could feel his breath against my face.

"I thought you wouldn't choose me…" He confesses.

"I always choose you, my god, you're such a fool, Hong Jong, since high school, I'm always choosing you, you are the one that always didn't choose me back" I look inside his eyes, and is like he finally figure out.

He kiss me so intensely that we fall on the sand, but we don't stop kissing he was sitting on my lap, was like the whole solar system gets in line for that moment, we were so synchronized like we researched every single movement, it takes everything in me to stop this.

"We need to stop, we're on tv Joongie" I whisper in his ear, and is like electricity hit his body, he jumps from my lap and takes a deep breath.

"I'm sorry I get too much excited…" I smile fixing my hair.

"If you had chosen me you could be as much you wanted…" Hong Jong's face became red, was shame and angry at the same time I knew.

"Can't you just get over this?" He asks impatiently.

"No, who you choose by the way?" Until now I'm trying to figure out who would be my enemy on my way to Hong Jong's heart, He looks at the sky without an answer.

"We should eat, it's getting later," Hong Jong's said, but he wouldn't trick me with food.

"You didn't choose Seonghwa, right?" His face became even redder "You know, I'm jealous, but Soobin is on another level, right? I just can't believe you choose him over me too!" Hong Jong hugs me.

"I was mad, I wasn't thinking right, I hate losing to you, and I hate even more when you were all laughs and smiling with Yunho, was my fault at the end I'm sorry…" He kiss my face multiple times.

"Don't worry next week I'll choose San!" He blinks slowly and steps back.

"Your ex-boyfriend? Really Wooyoung?" My eyelid shakes after a hear that.

"You choose Seonghwa!" That man would make me so mad that I would have a heart attack.

"He is not my ex Wooyoung…" I take a deep breath.

"Seonghwa is your first love, is the same freaking thing!" Hong Jong sigh and slap his own forehead.

"How could I fall in love with such a stupid being? Who cares about first love when I want you to be my last Wooyoung?" Okay, that makes me speechless, and this is a hard thing to do.

"Are you in love whit me?" He blinks slowly realizing what he just let escape, he uses his hand to cover his mouth as he wishes unsaid the words "AND EVEN LIKE THAT YOU DIDN'T CHOOSE ME?"

#ateez #ateez fanfic #jung wooyoung #wooyoung #kim hongjoong #hongjoong #woojoong #ateez fic

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alloracart · 2 years

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This is day 6 of Autistic Hunter Week. For today’s subject of accommodation, we need to talk about public transportation and accommodations for neurodivergent people.

Hello, here is my submission for Autistic Hunter Week. The drawing was initially not that related to the topic of today. I had it planned for another day, but it was taking longer than expected, then I saw the topic of this day, and decided to focus on it by putting Hunter and Flapjack into a bus shelter. As I talk about neurodivergent accommodations and Hunter, there will unfortunately not be much Owl House talk after this. Afterall, most of the series takes place in the Boiling Isles, where the show gets into the common trope of everything being in range of walking or personal transportation. However, to make up for that I’ll be writing up a brief outline how to include this subject into Season 3. A lot of what is said in this can also be applied to the any setting based on modern America.

This will be an essay into problems for neurodivergent people in the public transportation systems, specifically paratransit. From experience, this will be focusing on transit systems in the east coast of the United States. Outside school buses, I have experience with public transit in DC, NYC, and various cities in Florida. While I am a neurodivergent person, I do not have a physical disability, so any thoughts about problems with accessibility for physical disability in public transit are based on what I have read on it.

To begin with, there is the first major problem for neurodivergent people and public transportation: the lack of it. Jacksonville, Miami, Orlando, and Tampa are the only cities in Florida with transit more than buses, and these systems are not that interesting. Consider that Miami is smaller in area and slightly bigger in density compared to Philadelphia but has a smaller rail system. Palm Beach County is bigger in population to Bronx County (Palm Beach is a bigger county than it, but most of the population is east of the Florida Turnpike except for some cities like Wellington and Royal Palm), but only has regional rail like Tri-Rail and newly made Brightline. If you want to get from Jupiter to West Palm, the only choice is to switch between buses (or head to the current northernmost Tri-Rail station and ride it south), taking at least 90 minutes to travel the equivalent to a half hour car ride.

For disabled people, this is a major problem. There are proportionally fewer disabled drivers than there are able bodied drivers. Disabled people make less than able bodied people, lowering their chances of being able to afford a car. Outside of disability rights, American cities are in a problem of being too car centric, full of traffic, and suffering from all the pollution from vehicle fumes. Public transit is a necessity in modern times.

If more neurodivergent people are to use public transit, then it must be made more accessible to everyone. Some improvements could be to extend Tri-Rail north to Palm Beach Gardens and Jupiter, even to Stuart and Port St. Lucie. Sun-Rail should be expanded northward beyond Deland and eastward to Titusville. Palm Beach may soon possibly get light rail to connect Wellington to West Palm Beach, but they should also consider building light rail along US-1 Corridor and Military Trail. Buses in cities could be improved by having dedicated lanes or going electric via trolley buses. These changes will be expensive but ultimately affordable and will increase where you can get and how fast you can get there, making them more useful and significantly increasing ridership.

Now that I got past the general problem with the lack of public transit, it is time to get to how accommodations are done for neurodivergent people in the big way. With public transportation in America, buses and rail must provide a variety of accessibility features in their vehicles and infrastructure, even if they barely have or maintain those. However, there is one interesting accommodation when it comes to public transportation: paratransit.

Title II of the Americans with Disabilities Act (ADA) demands public transit service to have paratransit. Paratransit comes in the form of either a van or a minibus which can be scheduled to arrive at your home and take you to a destination you choose. If needed, the driver may get out to help you onto the bus. Most come with a wheelchair lift if you are using one. If you are a neurodivergent person in the United States, you are most likely able to use these services. Just put your city name into a search engine and add the word paratransit and you will probably find your local service and the application for it. Hunter would probably be eligible too, though we’ll get further into that at the end. The cost is around the same as a ride on a bus, though your only way of paying may be cash or tickets. A lot of these paratransit services need to consider multi-day bus passes like their regular counterparts, so riders don’t need to keep bringing exact change or constantly ordering tickets. At least the Toledo paratransit does so (though they’re currently waving fares entirely), I do not know of any other place which has multi-day passes.

A major problem with these services is applying to access them. To apply for these paratransit services, you must schedule a visit with a physician to assess your condition, see whether you could just use regular transit systems, and sign a part of your applications. You can probably see a major problem with this. You need to afford the time and money visit to physician so you can use the system, which could be at least a few hundred dollars. You may be better off getting a regular bus pass at that point. This could be alleviated by making assessments free or reduced in price via a nationalised healthcare, but that comes with the obstacle of getting nationalised healthcare. Perhaps after sending in an application and getting accepted, the rider is given the option to a further assessment by a physician paid for by the paratransit system. This would not determine their eligibility, but to give a more accurate perspective on how to help the customer.

The final problem I want to talk about is how these systems are setup. You schedule a ride to a place at a specific pickup time, and the bus may come a few minutes earlier or later after it. An algorithm then figures out the schedule for buses on that day, and a lot of times it does so poorly and is made worse when adjustments must be made during the day. On any day, the bus can pick up someone while you are riding it. The bus then either returns to the route to your destination, heads to pick up another person, or heads to drop off the picked-up person. On an ideal day, the other rider is somewhere near your path. Sometimes I can be on a bus which picks up two extra people and only adds ten extra minutes to my ride. On another day, they could be twenty kilometres in another direction. The bus picking up another rider could easily add an hour to a trip. This compounds into a problem of reliability and time. If you are going to schedule a bus to pick you up at 17:00, you must accept that you may get there at 19:30 as you take a tour of the entire county.

Unfortunately for this final problem, there may not be a solution in the paratransit system. The only solutions being trotted out are to just make better algorithms or turn them into a taxi service. I don’t want to see paratransit just turn into Lyft for disabled people, but what public transit can do to resolve this eludes me. The best solution I can see is just having a set of minibuses kept to a certain district and another set kept to handling rides over a longer distance.

This is most of what I want to talk about neurodivergent people and public transportation. More bus, more rail, easier application for paratransit. There are some additional problems that are obvious such as not being able to schedule a ride on the same day or penalties being places on riders for missing a bus or a late cancellation. However, this is currently over 1700 words and made on a laptop with no ability to charge. Now let’s talk about adding this subject to the Owl House.

It can seem hard to see how to tie Hunter and paratransit into a story. While the Owl House has one-off episodes, the “special episode about X” from 90s television is not appealing anymore. However, it’s not impossible. One simple thing that could be done is just having a bus in the background of shots set next to a road. As for a scene of someone riding paratransit, it probably would not fit. I don’t see a story where Hunter applies for it. We don’t yet know how the Boiling Isle characters in Gravesfield will be able to appear in public. If we were to just handwave that over, it could be a way for Hunter to get around the town and state. There seems to be a decent amount of walkability in the town, but he may need or want to visit outside the town and might not be able to have Camilla take him. Luz also could have applied since she too is neurodivergent and might be eligible. Waiting for the bus or van could be a place for conversations. Could there be a special episode (if this season was a full one) about it? Probably not, but its presence can be known.

For further examinations of public transit, I would suggest checking if your local city or town has a rider’s union. That is the best place to see what gripes people have with the system and figuring out a way to push for solutions. Outside of local groups, examine disability groups. The Disability Rights Education & Defense Fund is a good starting point. While I didn’t use them in studying this topic, the Autistic Women & Nonbinary Network seems to be another good source to learn more about neurodivergence.

And that’s this essay. The last thing I’ll say is for all the complaints about buses and paratransit in this article, it’s still better than cars, and it should be made clear that neurodivergent people use it as a means of transportation.

#autistic hunter week

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