#-to keep the system from overheating.

[transsexual-terabyte]

my schizophrenia likely effects my identity in many ways but i still think bein a robot is cool as hell. me and my damn coolant and chassis plates

[epitomees]

((This is definitely something for Aigis btw))

[jonny-b-meowborn]

I really miss doing art and I think at this point I've mostly recovered from being overworked with my diploma, I wish I had a desk* so I could draw without having to hold my laptop on my lap and completely busting my spine and knees and wrists

*I do have a desk that belongs to me but my brother keeps occupying it, and if I leave the room for literally more than five minutes while my laptop is on said desk, he will remove it and put his own laptop on the desk

[twinsimming]

Utilities Mod Update (6/10/24) - Heating and Cooling System & Temperature Utilities ⛄🔥

Sims are now affected by outdoor temperatures indoors, and are at risk of overheating or freezing if their temperature swings to either extreme. 

Thermostats, Radiators, and/or Air Conditioners are now required inside a sim’s home to help regulate their temperature.

Requirements

This mod requires The Sims 3: Seasons.

To activate the new system, place down one of the three temperature utilities and use the “Enable Temperature Utility” interaction. Once enabled, you can then turn on the temperature utility to control your lot’s temperature.

These temperature changes will only affect sims in your household on your active home lot. No need to worry about unplayed households or sims on community lots freezing or spontaneously combusting!

Thermostats, Radiators, & Air Conditioner Utilities

There are three different types of temperature utilities to choose from to control your lot’s temperature, depending on the climate of your current world and the size of your lot. 

Thermostats are good for climates that have both hot and cold seasons, as they have heating and air conditioning, and are cost effective for residential lots with more than two or three rooms.

Radiators and Air Conditioners are better for climates that have either cold or hot seasons, but not both. They’re also more cost effective for apartments or starter homes with a few rooms, as they cost less per hour of what a thermostat does.

Thermostat: Provides either heat or air conditioning when turned on, covers the entire house, costs §2 per hour, gives the Toasty and Keeping Cool custom moodlets

Radiator: Provides heat when turned on, only covers the room it is located in, costs §1 every 2 hours, gives the Toasty custom moodlet

Air Conditioner: Provides air conditioning when turned on, only covers the room it is located in, costs §1 every 2 hours, gives the Keeping Cool custom moodlet

There are three thermostats, four radiators, and two air conditioners included with the mod. Some of the meshes are from Around The Sims 3 and the others were converted from The Sims 2 and The Sims 4 by me.

Temperature Utilities Usage

Temperature utilities can be turned on for different lengths of time: 6 hours, 12 hours, 18 hours, or 24 hours and will automatically switch off when the time is up.

Radiators and Air Conditioners have “Turn All On/Turn All Off” interactions to switch on or off all radiators or all air conditioners on the lot at once.

The usage cost of these utilities will be added to your household’s next bill.

If you want to opt out of the heating and cooling system, use the “Disable Temperature Utility” interaction available on one of the three temperature utilities.

Pay attention to the weather forecast temperatures to determine when your household needs to turn on their heating or air conditioning, and remember to turn them off when the weather is fine to save money!

Note: Temperature utilities will not be shut off due to lack of funds, bill delinquency, or outages.

New Moodlets

Keeping Cool: Given when air conditioning is on, lasts until sim leaves the room (air conditioner) or house (thermostat), +5 mood, removes the Pleasantly Warm, Getting Warm, Starting to Sweat, and Sweating Profusely moodlets

Toasty: Given when heat is on, lasts until sim leaves the room (radiator) or house (thermostat), +5 mood, removes the Pleasantly Chilly, Getting Chilly, Starting to Shiver, and Teeth Chattering moodlets

Master Controls

Every utility now has four new interactions: “Turn On All Utilities”, “Turn Off All Utilities”, “Enable All Utilities”, and “Disable All Utilities” under a new pie menu interaction called “Master Controls…”. These interactions turn on/off and enable/disable every utility on the active home lot at one time.

Script Namespace

If you want to turn another object into a utility, open your desired object in s3pe and replace the current script name with the following:

Sims3.Gameplay.Objects.Twinsimming.Utilities.Thermostat

Sims3.Gameplay.Objects.Twinsimming.Utilities.Radiator

Sims3.Gameplay.Objects.Twinsimming.Utilities.AirConditioner

Credits

EA/Maxis for The Sims 2, The Sims 3, and The Sims 4, Around The Sims 3 for meshes, SimPE, Visual Studio 2019, Sims4Studio, Blender, Milkshape, TSRW, ILSpy, s3pe, Notepad++, and Gimp.

Thank You

Thank you to @desiree-uk, @kevinvoncrastenburg, and @its-time-o-clock for testing and feedback. And to @aroundthesims for allowing me to use some of her wonderful meshes for the temperature utilities!

Download @ ModTheSims

If you like my work, please consider tipping me on Ko-fi 💙

[livingdeadhorse]

idk what this is. i like robots. i’ll clean these up later. i think.

anyways while drawing these I started thinking abt like. idk does this count as an AU.

General shit:

I didn't make it clear, but the robots that have pupils were built without a hardcoded purpose. They've always been free to explore what they want to do. The robots with fully colored "scleras" were created with a purpose from the jump, so their creators didn't feel the need to make them appear more "human".

The more expensive a robot's parts are, the less clunky it is.

Right now, I'm going with "their human family built them" but that's liable to change.

The designs are also liable to change because uh. duh.

Celestia Ludenberg:

Viewed the robots with an imbued purpose as interesting and superior (something something humanity's advancement). She wants to be praised like that, so she emulates them

Her cat loves how much heat she radiates so it's always near her.

Most of her upgrades are cosmetic but if they aren't, they're stupid. She won't upgrade her CPU or her motherboard, but she'll load up with three 4090s that her other components can't even keep up with. Yes, she does it to flex.

She'll distract from bootleg, refurbished, or shoddily painted parts by turning on her RGB. It gets annoying.

She knows that she's fairly unsettling and she revels in it.

All things considered, her cable management is pretty good.

Her gambling skill is still just luck here, but she tells everyone it's because she has a never-seen-before GPU(& CPU) that does calculations at insane speeds.

Most don't believe her but have no way to disprove her lie.

Kiyotaka Ishimaru

I can't decide if he was built by his father or his grandfather.

Either way, he was built before Toranosuke's downfall, so his internals were all pretty expensive for the time. Luckily for him, that means he was slightly future-proof and has a viable upgrade path.

Unluckily for him, this means he's stuck with really old parts and his 8gb of RAM can barely keep up in a 32gb world sadge

His chassis is built from secondhand or scrap parts. It's why his joints are so ancient in comparison to the rest of him and why he has so much cabling that he can't seem to manage.

Shit chassis = shit airflow = he is always overheating

BUDDY IS YOUR CPU BURNING HOW IS THERE SMOKE

Older tech = LOUD AF. The class bought him new fans to avoid the loud ass whirring. It's not quiet but he used to sound like a jet engine.

He runs on Debian. It was originally going to be Arch since it's lightweight but Debian's whole "old but stable" reputation fits him more. I don't see him properly dealing with bleeding edge software anyways.

His room is filled with past HDDs that no longer have storage. He deems all educational material important so he refuses to delete any lessons. He doesn't have the money for SSDs.

Mukuro Ikusaba:

Is usually in reconnaissance mode, meaning she has a shit ton of hidden cameras in her chassis

This used to benefit Fenrir. Now it benefits Junko.

She can have her parts shifted around with no issue to make room for a better arsenal.

She’s durable in her reconnaissance mode but she’s nigh on untouchable in her combat mode. Her chassis gets 10x bulkier and she can split her attention to several different tasks on the battlefield.

Fenrir Mercenary Group doubles as a weapons company. Mukuro is the only model of her kind though.

They tried to give her reconnaissance model the look of a “normal girl” so she could gather info more efficiently. They failed real bad. They also didn’t account for the fact that Mukuro isn’t good at socializing.

She allocates a CPU core to a process dedicated to Junko. 24/7 365

She believes herself to be less capable of emotion than she actually is. She can’t seem to find the system process that triggers such painful emotions.

Chihiro Fujisaki

Each “fold” in her skirt doubles as a screen. Think of the skirt as having two layers: the top shell and the under shell. The top shell is what doubles as a screen.

Optimized her hardware to work on code as fast as possible (fingers, skirt, etc).

She tends to test out new software on herself regardless of their compatibility with her pre-existing shit. She constantly has to reinstall her OS, but it’s all fun for her.

Speaking of her OS, I was going to make her run on Gentoo but IDK cause of the compile times. It’d be faster if she used distcc but I can’t see her screwing over her classmates like that lol.

So I’m between Nix and Arch.

Insecure about the fact that she overhauled her original model so extensively. Got made fun of for being a ‘defective’ robot. Her father supports her modifications but she still feels bad about having ‘failed’ somehow.

Cue identity issues

She helps out her classmates when it comes to repairs.

Tendency to stay up programming leads to high uptimes. If her friends notice her lagging or crashing, they’ll try to get her to shut down. (In a computer sense lol, not an emotional shut down)

Do y’all remember the xz utils backdoor? Yeah that’s how extensively she combs through code.

Sayaka Maizono

I can’t decide if she was built to be an idol or was originally some other type of robot.

Loves to make kids smile, so she has a sort of candy mechanism in her arm.

Everything about her glows or spins. You will never get bored looking at her.

Her skirt isn’t actually see through I just didn’t feel like erasing the hip joints lmao.

If corpos give her manager enough money, she has to perform with literal ads on her.

State-of-the art facial recognition software. It makes her fans feel special to have their names remembered.

She has a regular sleep cycle due to how load-intensive her everyday life is. Has to shut down for a couple hours every week at least.

Her psychic ability is just her running a million calculations based on people’s behavior and sensing which one is most plausible. This feature is in place to avoid PR disasters during interviews or public appearances.

There really aren’t enough worker’s rights regulations in place for robots.

The company gets alerts whenever she freaks tf out, so she feels even more stifled and repressed. Chihiro helped remove this.

Kyoko Kirigiri

Can’t decide if she was built by her father or grandfather. Probably just built by Jin and he “left” her in Fuhito’s care.

Fuhito made her go through several modifications, hardcoding his own investigative skills into her system.

Her grandfather loves her but has fucked up ideas about her own autonomy.

The events of DR:K still happen. She chose not to replace her hands.

Fuhito doesn’t make much use of a backdoor in her system anymore. He used it a lot more when she was a child but he sees her as a viable heir of the Kirigiri clan now. Chihiro isolated the backdoor to a separate SSD anyhow.

Still complicated father-daughter issues

Everything about her (but her OS) is proprietary, probably commissioned from Towa Industries. Her OS is a fork of Mint. The Windows 7 UI is just because I imagine her grandfather is One of Those lmao.

Has way too many scanners and sensors. She can’t test any evidence herself but she can gather a fair bit of information. Has a vast database for cross-comparison anyways.

Same issues as Togami and Mukuro: sees herself as less capable of emotion than she actually is.

The ramen noodle incident called for actual repairs.

Byakuya Togami

His superiority complex is far worse because he was literally CREATED to be the perfect Togami. You can’t tell him shiiiiiiit.

Gold joints. Scoffs at those with unoptimized cable management or software.

He’s constantly streamlining his own processes. Brings up that he runs on his own OS when Nobody Asked.

Had a similar backdoor to Kyoko’s but Koji did check that one. Obsessively. Nobody would tell Byakuya but He Just Knew. The lack of privacy irritated him. Aloysius helped fix it once Togami finally took over.

Only trusts Aloysius with his repairs. Has a hard time admitting when he needs repairs in the first place so Aloysius hides it under “monthly maintenance”.

Does everything from the terminal even when he 1) shouldn’t and 2) can’t. Bragging rights. He has written a bunch of his own scripts though to speed things up.

Kernel and OS provided to him by Koji. (UNIX-based. Proprietary) Byakuya maintains and builds his own updates. Doesn’t trust cheapskate peasants to do it for him.

Anti-FOSS. For him at least.

Has glasses for the aesthetics. Doesn’t need them.

[livelaughlovesubs]

I need more Boothill... Maybe just taking orgasm after orgasm after orgasm... Mommy kink even...?

WAIT HUUUH?? BAE, YOU ARE REQUESTING SMT FROM ME? I’m fucking honoured I could cry also you are a switch? >:0

Anyway, hope this is to your liking <3

Dom!reader x sub!Boothill

Warning: mommy kink (boothill calls reader mommy), handjob, dacryphilia, praise kink, soft dom

His once cold metal arms were wrapped around your neck, holding onto you as tightly as he could. Legs spread as far as he can while he squeezed his eyes shut, unable to handle the overstimulation your touch brought him. “Too.. too much~” The male groaned into your neck, his hot breath tickling your skin. All you did in response was coo at him, whispering gently, “you are doing great, my love.” Each time your hand pumped up and down his sticky length, he could feel his body overheating and going feral. As if all of his systems shortcut, he felt how his limps went weak, at this rate he can barely hold on to you any longer.

Your hand was all dirty with the lube as well, smiling at him as you continued the same movements you’ve been repeating for the last hour. Up, down, up and down… just like that, a steady rhythm that made his mind go blank. You adored this man with all your heart, the only thing you want for him is eternal happiness and satisfaction. In your opinion, it was a blessing that you can make him feel good like this, make him whimper and cling onto you. “So good and so pretty for me, my baby.” A soft chuckle left your lips, eyes filled with adoration scanning over his mechanical body. He really was beautiful, every side of him, from his adorable personality to his looks. You swore to yourself that you’d always love him, his past, and his future. A future where you hope to be in the picture as well.

That lovely gaze of yours didn’t escape his sharp senses, those very loving eyes were what caused boothill to fall for you. He found comfort in them, solace and peace. It was indescribable. The moment you look at him with such tenderness he haven’t felt since centuries, he crumbles like sand with water. Somehow, you were able to make his nonexistent heart beat, causing him to year for you. All he could do was thank the aeons for granting him this comfort, since you reciprocated his feelings he tried so hard to suppress. “S-stop it with those uHhm~ dadgem compliments…” The cyborg scoffed, biting his bottom lip to keep his moans in check.

“But you deserve them, sweetie, and it’s only the truth. It’s what I think about you.” You mumbled against his head, using your free hand to stroke his long hair. “I really adore you.” You added after seeing his ears redden. Sometimes he thinks you are an angel, because of how nice you are, yet other times you were straight up the devil’s incarnation. Whenever you’d tease him until he’s whimpering and humiliated, that is. “Still.. stop it.” Boothill insisted, he felt way too embarrassed and aroused by just some praises that it was hurting his ego. His hands were bawled into fists behind your neck, sometimes when it got especially intense he’d also scratch your back.

Instead of nodding along, you just smiled again, picking up your pace on his length. His body has been warmed up by your body heat at this point, that’s how long you two have been going at it. How many times has he cum now? Since there are no physical signs of him reaching his orgasm, you could only guess from his other body languages. If you guessed rightly, it’d be three times already. When you suddenly started going faster, the cowboy cried out, pressing his face further into the nook of your neck as he begged incoherently, “please please please.., no-no more, mommy..” If it weren’t for his inability to, he would have cried from the excessive pleasure.

Poor boy was panting and gasping the entire time, mouth hung agape because he got no time to close with from all the moaning. The ecstasy was too much, way too much to handle, to the point even his fake thighs shook uncontrollably. How was it even possible for him to feel anything below his neck? He doesn’t know. He also didn’t know if this is a blessing or a curse since, fudge, you are driving him insane. “Hngghh… I can’t I can’t..! Ah, ahhH- mommy, please…” Boothill whined again, he was such a mess now, all due to you, only for you.

“Shh, it’s alright baby. I’m right here, mommy here with you.” You reassured him, kissing his forehead gently. The warmth of your lips was the last straw he needed to spill over the edge, eyes rolling back as a chocked out moan escaped his throat. “UghH- uhmmHg..!!” All of this was too much for him, he could feel new electricity crashing down on him in waves. Then a sudden sharp pain coursed through your body. His fingers dug into your back, crawling at your skin again, leaving behind new scratch marks. You bit his neck to bear the sensations, drawing out another pained groan from the boy, “ugh-nnNghhHH~..!”

After calming down a bit, you kissed his face. From his cheeks to his nose and lips, leaving behind little pecks for him to enjoy. “So good for me, my good boy.” You praised him again, ending with him turning his face to the side and avoiding you. What an adorable thing he was, of course you didn’t mind his bratty behaviour, instead you laughed before teasing him, “did you enjoy it? I mean, you even started calling me ‘mommy’.” Immediately the blush previously pestering his cheeks returned, and he yelled out a ‘fork you’. Once again you giggled, kissing the tip of his nose again, then saying, “aw, I thought it was very cute though.”

Never would he ever admit to have done something so.. embarrassing yet cute. Boothill thought this was finally over when you suddenly started rubbing his tip again, causing him to let out a squeak, “aghNhh..?!” You looked at him with expectant eyes, asking him, “what, you didn’t think I was done already, did you?” Right after you finished that sentence, you started jerking him off in the earnest again, and he moaned through gritted teeth, “nGHhhh~ fudge… please spare me, mommy~~ ♡”

[musicallisto]

· · · · ♡ IF (SAINZ WIN == TRUE) (cs55)

… starring carlos sainz x f!engineer!reader ... 4.4k words ... in which carlos is an effusive, self-assured lad to every member of his team... except ferrari's head software engineer, making her wonder if he secretly hates her guts. ... based on this request ... warnings for language (minor) ... my first ever (posted) fic for carlos aaaaa (i have written A Lot More about this man because he occupies my every waking hour, but i shan't share it yet). in honor of me missing my communication networks final last week i made the reader a software engineer, but you would Never catch me willingly coding anything in c++ outside of my mandated assignments. no not even for carlos sainz jr. i have morals. this is open for part 2 if you guys enjoy it <3

He speaks the language of princes.

It's not in anything he says, no, he's much too industrious to waste time boasting, but rather in all that he doesn't. Carlos walks into the Ferrari motorhome, with that good-natured smile and that slightly disheveled hair from the morning's cycling session, and heads bow. Not out of plight, or even obligation, but mostly because it's hard not to. His warm greetings to everyone—Ciao's and even Come stai?'s to his team members strolling down the hallways before the weekend—, his keen interest in remembering little things about engineers' and photographers' lives, his nonchalant stride around the parc fermé all force camaraderie at least; reverence to most.

Wherever the red car goes, Maranello or any other corner of the world, religion follows, and though Carlos Sainz has never quite fit into the nooks they keep for their idols—their walls are carved for Monégasque shoulders—, he's at least always carried the air of a rebel leader on unforgving land.

But if Carlos is Ferrari's bastard prince, then clearly you are a subject he would not go to war for.

Or so he makes you think, once again, on that hot Singaporean afternoon.

You hadn't meant to interrupt, really, but with only one hour to go before FP1, you needed to talk to Riccardo Adami; something about the software updates, optimization of the data acquisition systems to account for Marina Bay's sweltering heat—run for half a second too long, overheat half a degree too much, and everyone's calculations would be going to hell. So of course you'd corrected it, supervised a brand new version of your code for the weekend, for that tenth of a Celsius; competition drove you. Almost just as much as those solar eyes boring into you when you walk into the room.

"Riccardo, about the softw—oh. Carlos. Hi," you timidly trail off when Carlos' eyes meet yours.

The room gets quiet, and it is only then that you notice how much space his laugh takes. Usually, you would've recognized the accent from outside the door, the boisterous voice regaling the Fifty-fives with another funny story—how could you not, when it sends shockwaves down your stomach? He seems to have been in an animated conversation with his race engineer, but as you get closer to the two men you notice the crinkles lengthening Carlos' eyes are fading with his smile. You aren't sure he's even said hi back.

"We've changed the code for acquisition, but some loops could still cause problems with overheating, particularly the engine oil temperature sensors…" you explain, though half your attention is directed to your peripheral vision, in which Carlos sways on his two feet, averting your gaze at all costs.

But you're not a college girl with a crush, you're Scuderia Ferrari's head software engineer and so you go on with your precisions to Riccardo. What to expect during free practice, how to overshoot any nonessential sensors that might fuck up the data analysis... until, mid-sentence, Carlos excuses himself awkwardly, pats Ricky on the shoulder, and walks out of the room.

You will your face into not betraying the sudden ache in your throat. How he simply acted like you weren't there... didn't even inquire about the updates. About the race. About your flight, about how much you loved Singapore's twinkling lights, about... you.

"Xavi and Charles know this already, but we really gotta test it all now before it gets cooler for FP2," you conclude with a too-hard swallow. Back firmly turned to the door Carlos just disappeared out of.

Riccardo thanks you, offers his own insight, some banalities about the risks of rain—no, you shouldn't consider them banalities. Nothing, on a Friday, is a banality anymore; yet everything is when you remember how Carlos' entire face shuts close when you're around, how his tone quietens down, how he repeatedly and stubbornly conceals all his rays of brazenness from you.

Does he hate you? Despise you? Are you not worth his effrontery?

This is ridiculous. You're not a college girl with a crush, you're a damn senior member of the team with responsibilities and he doesn't owe you anything more or less than you him—

"Riccardo," you neither ask nor plead. "Has Carlos... said anything about me?"

"About you? Like what?"

"I don't know... but you did see he just... left while I was in the middle of talking, right? And he looked annoyed as soon as I came in." And for all that's holy, try to pass this off as mere politeness and not a heartache that is eating you alive.

"Maybe he was just bored."

"So I'm boring?"

"No," Riccardo wheezes, in uncharacteristically high spirits for the conversation. "But I've worked with a ton of drivers, and you know, they're all the same. Less time discussing boring analytics is more time they spend in the sim. Or on track. What, you think he's angry at you or something?"

"I just... don't get why he's always so guarded and distant with me but so outgoing and confident with you guys. Charles isn't like that either. It makes no sense. We're a team, all of us."

The Italian looks at you for long seconds, amusement noticeable on his features, and you would shake him up and tell him to stop giving you those pity eyes if you lacked the tiniest bit of respect for the man; instead, you frown and cross your arms.

"He'll be in a good mood tonight when we top free practice," Riccardo assures you before you can ask him if he needs anything else. "and even better tomorrow after getting pole. You can talk to him then if you want."

A smile creeps its way on your lips without you conjuring it. There it is, that loyal veneration that only men and women of the Scuderia possess. Something in those southern eyes Carlos shares with legend has made you religious, too.

"I'll hold you to that... we could all use a Singapore miracle."

Singapore is a miracle.

Surely any other team would scoff at the word, bragging that a pole position has nothing to do with miracles, that it's all meticulous teamwork and endless iterations on calculators, but Ferrari is deeply supersitious at its core. You—the centenarian team, its red-hot beating heart—don't shy away from thanking divine intervention. Maybe that's the reason why it still works.

After Carlos' last pole in Monza, the whole Scuderia had dared to dream of something different, a glimmer of scarlet in the season's overwhelming orange. Of course, an uncatchable Max had put a dampen on the fervent Tifosi's mood, but the formidable hope machine had revved back to life...

and now it's roaring in Marina Bay.

Leclerc's side of the garage claps for a hard-earned P3, but it's the Spaniard's team that erupts into cheers and rushes out into the pitlane to congratulate their hero. You stare at his lap time on your monitor with a grin—1:30.984, not even a tenth faster than his teammate—as cheerful screams, in Italian and Spanish, fill the garage; they get louder when Carlos walks back inside, grinning ear to ear and not even bothering to dodge the strong-arm pats on his head and back.

"Twice in a row, cazzo!"

"And this time you won't have Verstappen underfoot!"

"Perfect lap, Carlos, that was a perfect lap..."

"Grazie a tutti," Carlos beams, fire suit down to his waist, running clammy hands through his hair—he parts the red sea as he walks deeper into the garage, close to where you are. "I think we all did a very good job today, and now we gotta finish the job tomorrow..."

He laughs with the mechanics, a sun of fire and victory casting its rays onto the tarmac, and maybe it's the euphoria of the moment, but a sudden wind of courage rushes through your blood, and you walk up to him.

"Bravo, Carlos."

Your voice hits him like the purr of an engine in the ruckus, overshadowing any other sound; he whips his head in your direction, shiny eyes colliding with yours, and for the first time you don't back off but hold them in awe, and his smile doesn't fade, but rather shifts. To surprise, or... coyness?

"You were incredible out there, we're all so so proud of you," you praise, and the more you look at him the wider your smile grows, and the quieter the rest of the world gets.

"Thank you, Y/N," he rubs the back of his neck, his free hand fiddling with the hanging sleeves of his fire suit. "We... I couldn't have done this without you. Because, you know, the overheating, or what you were saying to Ricky before? I didn't understand everything, but at least I didn't cook to death."

Coyness? In Carlos Sainz? When he's still sweaty and panting from qualifying first? What a bizarre sight, one that makes you giggle.

The way your nose scrunches up beneath sparkling eyes is so endearing, Carlos almost feels his breath hitch in his throat, almost reaches out to lightly brush your arm, hold the steady coolness of it.

"Great, that was what we were going for, pretty much," you reply, and for a second you could've sworn he wanted to touch your arm and changed his mind, but...

you bury the idea before a craving for his warmth can nestle in your chest.

"Great," he repeats. "So, I'll... see you later," and with that he leaves you there, stranded in the middle of the garage, to be lauded by the press and fans.

You'd be lying if you said his shadow disappearing out the backdoor as quickly as it had come doesn't slice a gash in your heart—always whisked away to some important obligation, and you, like everyone else, duty-bound to pick up the pieces behind him. But this time around the cut doesn't run as deep, doesn't bleed as red; because for the first time in months Carlos talked to you, joked with you, and looked the tiniest bit glad to be doing so.

If that's how good of a mood a pole puts him in... then clearly you'd better make damn sure he wins this race.

Ferrari is deeply superstitious at its core. Maybe that much is true in any sport—when victory eludes you, athletes find obscure laws to trick themselves into believing they still retain control—, but a team so old, on which glory has rained so often, does not withstand the passage of time without a few pillars of faith. And so it makes sense that Ferrari drivers, of all people, would have their pre-race traditions.

Leclerc plays the piano on Saturday nights; you hear him every time you pass by the team hotel's lounge, his melancholy tracks grounding you in a precise time and place. Now the car is out of bounds, the comfort of your object-oriented programming and optimized lines of code off-limits; now's the time for withdrawal and rest.

Typically, you like to hang out in the lounge while Charles plays, trying to distract yourself with a book or simply basking in the music. The predictable, calculated flow of Charles' arpeggios soothes you, like lines of code running one after the other. So does the Monégasque driver's easy conversation. Although it doesn't shoot butterflies in your belly like Carlos' does... but you're not supposed to play favorites.

This Grand Prix eve is just like any other, save for the unordinary trepidation that carpets the hotel. With one of their own sitting on pole, it's obvious strategists struggle more than usual to drop the words "tire management" and "pit stops". Eager to escape the nervousness, you excuse yourself from the dinner table, and make your way to the lounge.

Charles is already there, if the usual pieces echoing in the distance at dessert are any indication, and you barely even get lost in the elegant halls before you find the lounge... though there is no piano to be heard. Maybe this hotel has two music rooms—maybe Charles went to bed early—or maybe...

maybe he's sitting on the piano stool and chatting with Carlos, wet and sleepy from his evening shower.

Neither driver notices you at first, and you stop dead in your tracks, wondering if you should just leave. You wouldn't want to intrude—intrude on what, the rational part of your brain says, but with Carlos I always feel like I'm intruding on something bigger than myself, the rest of your body answers—, but you really enjoy this unspoken tradition with Charles... and, well, this is everybody's lounge, and...

"Y/N," Charles sees you eventually and beckons you over. "Sorry, I don't think there'll be a lot of music tonight, Carlos is distracting me."

"You could kick me out anytime," Carlos remarks good-naturedly, but you don't miss how he angles his body away from you ever so slightly. The sight sends a dagger through your heart. So he actually hates you then. So you didn't breach any barrier earlier at the circuit, didn't melt any ice. So he didn't look pleased and a little excited to be talking to you.

"That's okay, I'll just head to bed then—"

"Oh no no no," Charles interrupts, "come sit with us. I was trying to convince Carlos to give the piano a go, maybe you'll be more successful than me."

"Absolutely not, mate."

"Come on Carlos, it will relax you!"

"No, you're the musician, not me. One of us has to be the sportsman, no?"

Unsure, you flick between the two men, Charles' inviting face and Carlos, who's still doing everything he can to avoid looking at you in the eye. And then you decide—fuck it. You're just as much a member of the team as he is. He cannot drive you away with his... stupid cold shoulder tactics any longer.

You take a seat on the sofa opposite Carlos, and watch in half delight, half annoyance as he turns his shoulders away from you. Though his body language appears relaxed, one leg strewn across his knee and elbows hugging the backrest, he is, as usual, going to hell and beyond to not acknowledge your presence.

Charles has the merit of lightening the mood with his jokes and fan encounters of the day: some bizarre, some endearing, because he seemingly never has a boring day in the paddock. His easy laughter mixes with the distant voices down the halls when your attention drops—too fast, too soon, as always, it's irremediable—to Carlos, the soothing scent of his shampoo and the little droplets that run down his temple whenever he shakes his head in amusement... before you know it, you're staring again, eyes shining with undisclosed heartache. Something Charles sees, and recognizes very well, with a jot of curiosity.

Charles may not be the most perceptive when it comes to these things, but he is in love too, and he'd know the signs anywhere. That's why after a little while he lets silence blow his last words away like wind does the mist, and stands up from the piano stool.

"Well, I'm going to bed," he announces with an air of conniving finality, and he smiles his crooked smile at Carlos. "Gonna need all my energy to take the lead in turn 1."

This snaps you out of your reverie. Half-gone, you bid him goodnight at the same time as the Spaniard does, and you brace yourself for his own excuse... but it doesn't come. Carlos lazily watches as Charles leaves the lounge. You don't dare to move, as if your slightest sound could remind him you're there and trigger his fight.

You would've thought a tête-à-tête with you to be Carlos' worst nightmare... but he makes no sign of leaving. And sends solar flares up your chest and throat. "Whatever problem he's got with me, he'll have it sort it out with me like an adult" sounds much more intimidating when it's so plausible.

"You think he has the slightest chance of overtaking me in turn 1?" Carlos chuckles.

You look him straight in the eye and read no resentment, not even that sheepishness from before—just relaxed delight, and the slightest hint of reddened cheeks against tan, damp skin. It takes you a second, maybe even two, to realize there's no one else in the room. He's talking to you. Joking with you.

Why is the script running without error all of a sudden, even though you changed no variables?

"Maybe," you give a noncommittal shrug and a smile. "Why not? It all depends on you."

"He can lead the first lap if he wants. That will just make it more fun to cross the finish line ahead of him after."

"You better win this one, Sainz, because I..." you start, and midway through your sentence are hit by how absolutely ridiculous you're about to sound, but he's leaned in already, intrigued by your words, and his burning gaze and strong hands fiddling in his lap have you losing all notions of propriety. "I've... coded a little something for you. If you win. A surprise. It's not much, but... yeah."

Your whole face burns deep scarlet as you trail off... and the light in Carlos' eyes darkens, then goes out completely. His smile fades back to the usual professional grimace he reserves for you. Distant. Cold. He rises to his feet.

"I should get some sleep."

Terror strikes you. Incomprehension too.

"No, Carlos, wait."

He turns his head to your outstretched hand... your pleading eyes almost rip through his heart.

"Why do you dislike me so much?"

And then his shoulders slump, like crushed by an immense weariness, and he sighs, long and hard, before his gaze falls back to yours. Those big brown eyes, gentle, compassionate, and those fingers tapping against his thigh like they're waiting for an invisible cue to reach out for yours.

"... Can we talk about this after the race?" he says, shooting daggers through your stomach.

So he didn't deny it. Didn't reassure you, tell you it's all a misunderstanding, that he bears no ill will towards you, that you're imagining things as usual and that you two could be on the best of terms if you just got out of your head a little bit.

One more time, he's running away. Sweeping everything under the rug, for just one more session, one more race, hiding behind the excuse of concentration and professionalism.

But who are you to revoke him that? It's a damn good excuse. You need to win. He needs to win. Not be bothered about... interpersonal relationships while clipping walls.

"... Alright," you concede, voice and bones all broken, glistening under your frozen skin. "But if it's something I've done, then I'm sorry. I really do... enjoy your company. And you."

"It's not something you've done," he speaks quietly. Gosh, your frailty in this moment—you, so proud and unshakable on the pit wall, so dedicated and thorough on TV, so immeasurably devoted to Ferrari, to Charles, to him... "Or, well, I guess not directly..."

If he looks into your confused, imploring eyes one more second, almost brushes your arm with his one more time, then he's done for. But he thinks he knows this already.

"I don't dislike you," he starts speaking and as soon as he opens his mouth he knows there's no stopping himself now, so he blurts it all out as quickly as he can to get it over with and hopefully bury some meaning in the pits of his accent. "Not at all. In fact I really like you. I think you're gorgeous, and smart, and clever, and fun, and every day I wish I could spend more time with you outside of races and get to know you better but then I remember that can never happen and it's so frustrating and I have the hardest time concentrating. So I just avoid you. It's easier."

Silence thick as a thundercloud tethers you to one another. He runs a hand over his face, sighing deep, and you blink. Once, twice.

You've always prided yourself on your brains—not everyone gets to be in charge of all the computing for a Formula 1 car—but right now, you are all utterly lost.

"Carlos, I... I don't get it." Or maybe you do, heart thumping in your ears, but you're too scared you might be wrong.

"In any other life I would've asked you out on a date." This time he speaks more slowly, more purposefully, too. Like he's imbuing every syllable with the depth of his confession. "But it kills me that it can't be this one."

"... Why not?" you tentatively ask after an instant, feigning not to notice how his hand is now resting on the back of your sofa, right next to your ear and neck.

"Because you're a senior engineer! That would be like... like dating Ricky. Even if you're much prettier than Ricky. But you don't need to tell him that," he adds with a nervous laugh, which you mirror; though you fall silent as soon as his hand comes to rest on your shoulder, right where your collar ends, millimeters away from your skin. His body's warring with his own words... one wants to resist, the other to give in. "What if I leave Ferrari? That's a crazy conflict of interest."

"That's a silly idea, you're not leaving Ferrari anytime soon. Are you?"

"I don't know, it's... hypothetically... you know what I mean," he exhales in defeat. His hand clasps a little tighter on your shoulder, his scent dizzying, closer than ever before. Can he feel your frantic heart thumping underneath your skin? If he keeps licking his lips like this, will he sense your breathing getting more erratic?

"I do. But... the problem is I like you too, Carlos."

If embers could burn back to life, light a hearth out of nothingness... they wouldn't shine as bright as Carlos' eyes just then.

"Don't mess with me."

"I'm not messing with you. Why wouldn't I like you?"

"Because you're not supposed to have a favorite."

"I won't tell Fred if you don't."

He laughs, a brittle but adorable little thing, like a small bird taking its first flight. If you could hear the sound more often, see that bashful smile on his handsome face more every day... you wouldn't need any other prince to die in war for.

His hand runs down your arm, his thumb lightly caressing your skin through the fabric of your shirt before he grabs your shaky hand in his.

"Now's not the best time, but... I think we've got to have an important conversation after the race tomorrow," his deep, soft tone pacifying you just as much as the abstract shapes he traces on the back of your hand.

"After you win, you mean."

"Right. After I get my surprise, no?"

"After you win," you repeat with a grin, and he squeezes your hand, smiling too. Something, deep down, tells him he'll win regardless of the race result.

"Cosa diavolo sta facendo?"

Even in spite of the roaring crowd and the bellowing V8s speeding down the straight, the dumbfounded voices around the pit wall come to you clear as day.

"Russell 1.4 behind Lando," Ricky, sitting on the other side of Vasseur, speaks into his headset.

The team principal keeps quiet, eyes fixed on the cascade of numbers and brackets on your screen. He understands before the rest of the wall what his driver is doing; and as you relay all the information you get to the race engineers, you understand it too.

"Lando .8 behind, .8 behind with DRS—Russell no DRS... Copy that."

He's doing it on purpose. Keeping Norris just close enough to shield him from the Mercs while making sure he can't catch up. You'd laugh in triumph and disbelief if you weren't gritting your teeth so damn hard, heart on the verge of exploding as the last laps tick out in a blur.

Just a few more minutes. Just a few more seconds, and the night sky over Marina Bay will explode in crimson lights...

Mechanics spring to their feet and climb the wall to the track, bumping their fists in the air. Cheers, claps, exclamations, a bouquet of red roses swaying in the wind to greet its champion at the finish line. And then, the unmistakable roar of a racecar speeding past the chequered flag at three hundred kilometers an hour. Liberation.

You spring to your feet right as the fireworks go off, yelling to the sky. Carlos won. Carlos won! Your Carlos—in the middle of Red Bull's flawless season...

"¡Vamos Fred! ¡Vamos Ricky!" Flashes of red and gold pass his high spirits by, diligently braking into the first corner.

He laughs, he screams it all out, unclenching all his muscles, woozy from the G's, from the adrenaline, from the win... from you, watching him from the pit wall. From the memory of your skin against his, your adoring eyes and the formidable lightness inside his chest that has him feeling like he's the king of the world.

In a few minutes, he'll be posing with his trophy and the team in front of his P1 plaque for the group photo, and he'll drench you in champagne—your lively laughter will fill his heart with the gold of medals. And later in the evening, before the afterparty, he'll pull you aside and tell you maybe this victory has made him reckless, and he'll kiss you senselessly like a prize he fought for.

For now, though, he's nodding his head at Lando who gave him a congratulatory wave from his car when his on-board screen lights up with an unexpected message. Glowing red letters read, "Great job, smooth operator! 🌶️" Laughter escapes him as small virtual fireworks go off on his screen... and he presses the radio button on his steering wheel.

"Did she have one of these ready for Charles too?"

A few seconds of white noise, and then, your mischievous voice, dripping with joy.

"You know me, Carlos. Never play favorites."

… f1 taglist; @retvenkos @giuseppe-yuki (want to be added? send me an ask!)

[jyoongim]

Hello! May I request something similar to what’s been written before with alastor x vox’s little sister. But instead this time it’s alastor flirting with reader during overlord meetings and just saying stuff on the radio about her to swoon her- maybe he even started to court her too?

I actually just find this shit hilarious and I love torturing vox…

You never understood why Vox avoided coming to the Overlords’ meetings. It was making him look bad when he only sent you to represent the Vees district.

But alas, you were welcomed kindly by Carmilla and the others.

Especially the Radio Demon Alastor.

Over the years, your nervousness around the demon wane and you actually found him quite pleasant to be around.

Vox had always told you to stay away for Alastor, claiming the demon would just fuck with you to get a reaction out of him.

Like the obedient sister you were, you tried to listen to your big brother, but Alastor made it so hard to stay away.

At the Overlords meetings he often reserved a seat right beside him, keeping you filled in if you came in late or made jokes in your ear.

While you often tried to remain professional and regal, Alastor found you blushing and stuttering to be cute.

He never missed a chance to flirt with you throughout the meetings, snickering when you threw him a glare when reprimanded by Carmilla.

But that was only the beginning.

You were often awakened by the sound of Alastor’s radio broadcast (He gifted you a radio and how could you refuse a dedazzled radio?). You would be flustered hearing the red demon talk about you over Hell’s broadcast.

Compliments, joking, serenading, flirting directed towards you could be heard by all sinners.

It drove Vox mad that the Radio Demon seemed to have the hots for his sister.

He would disconnect all of Hell before letting Alastor be around you.

But Alastor was nothing if not persistent.

He lavished you with flowers, letters, trinkets and charms that suited your fancy. Of course Velvette giggled at the attention you were getting, while Vox’s systems were overheating. Like all things constant, he had finally worn you down.

Alastor had caught you out shopping on one of his outings, smiling wide when you let out sparks when he brought your hands to his lips.

”Its a lovely day my dear why don’t I treat you to lunch hmmm? You must be famished.” You barely had time to protest before he whisked you to a fancy restaurant.

You couldn’t help how your heart fluttered when the demon asked about your interests. He hid his distaste for your brother just enough for you that it made you giggle.

When Alastor admitted to wanting to court you, your systems went haywire. You were conflicted. You knew Vox wouldn’t like that you being in a relationship with Alastor, but you reeeaaallly like the demon.

You accepted and it was the best decision of your life.

And Vox’s worst nightmare.

He glitched out when you told him you had accepted Alastor’s advances.

Voxtech headquarters were often filled with gifts Alastor sent you.

Date nights had Vox’s clawing at his wires.

He hated seeing the smug look Alastor threw him when he would catch the two of you cuddling on the couch, watching an old movie.

Vox didn’t understand why you wanted to date him.

He was old-fashion, a fossil, did not fit your aesthetic, but you frowned saying you quite enjoyed how modest Alastor was. He actually wanted to get to know you and didnt have anything to gain from Vox.

He made you laugh, didn’t tiptoe around you.

He didnt care you were a pampered princess, he spoiled you more.

Vox would always treat you like his little sister, but you were a grown woman, you didnt need him to always look after you.

”Voxxy just give me this one favor ok? I know you two don’t like each other but pleeeaassee try to reframe from killing my boyfriend”

So Vox tried, he really did, but seeing Alastor be so so touchy with you made him itch.

You had fried Hell’s communication systems because Vox ruined dinner.

”He didnt have to kiss you!”

”You kiss Val all the time theres no difference?”

”It is different!”

”How?”

”We have an very professional agreement-”

”You two fuck!”

”Alastor would fuck you if given the chance! Why can’t you see he’s no good!”

”…”

”…”

”You didnt…”

”We didnt get far!”

”IM GOING TO KILL HIM”

”I WILL MAKE YOU INTO A FAX MACHINE!”

Alastor chuckled as you sulked in his arms. “He’s a big stupid sensor who think he can tell me what to do!”

You turned to Alastor, lip quivering “I really like you and Vox…Vox just don’t get it” you said sadly, leaning on his shoulder.

He hooked a claw under your chin and pressed a kiss to your forehead “Oh don worry dear. Hes just being how big brothers are. He can’t scare me off hehe no I quite like the investment I made”

He pressed his lips to yours and you melted in his touch.

Your brother would get over it…sooner or later.

[sagucpuppet]

painter x reader where they have both known eachother for a long time, reader goes to visit him (but having to obviously go through every door there lmao) and they hang out but for no reason, mid-conversation they lean over and kiss painters screen and continue talking like nothing happened and he's just overheating XD

(i love your painter work to death, please continue writing for him or it'll be my funeral tomorrow, please please please, keep writing it's amazing n beautiful PLEASE)

𓋜⠀⠀⠀i’d always knew i’d find you. <3⠀⠀⠀⠀⨟⠀⠀

ℓ⠀⠀⠀⠀₊⠀⠀⠀⠀extra: painter goes by he/him and reader goes by they/them.⠀⠀⠀⠀

⠀⠀⟢⠀⠀⠀⠀a/n : CAN SOMEONE CHECK ON ANON FOR ME….YOU OKAY BRO.⠀⠀⠀⠀!

𓋜 ; you stumbled room from room, trying to make it to your friend painter. you were honestly SO. tired from hiding from the monsters you hoped to god that you were about to finally make it to heavy containment where painter was, speaking of him! you and painter has been buddies for awhile now! you always stop by to greet him and have a little chat and catch up on how he’s doing. you’re always worried for the guy whenever new expendables come in his room, he’s particularly violent to them most of the time, yelling at them to stay out of his room, you wished he wasn’t THAT…harsh on them though! but he’s particularly nice to you always, and on your runs the turrets never get in your way, not even good people! in honesty you were glad you didn’t have to deal with them..good people can be annoying sometimes..but you immediately snapped out of your thoughts when you realize you almost walked head first into the heavy containment door…wow..you should really pay attention..

𓋜 ; snapping out of your thoughts about hating good people, you searched for the purple keycard which was on a desk right next to you, cheerfully swiping it off the desk you put the card into the keycard reader which opened both to a heavy metal door, the number read “60” , you could’ve swore that last time you checked you were on door 40…well whatever! you quickly threw the purple keycard somewhere in the room having no need for it anymore. you quickly searched each room, but having no luck finding your buddy. you sighed sadly and went on to the next..and the next…ANDDD the next one…ANDDDD…the next one….pinching your nonexistent nose in annoyance since you still have your diving helmet on, you quickly realized and rolled your eyes, but blinked once you saw those server rooms you remembered you went through each run! you cracked a smile before walking over.

𓋜 ; the metal door quickly opened before you, letting you see the contents of the room, and spotting your buddy painter! painter then snap up as soon as he heard the door open, getting ready to say a sassy remark to the next expendable, before he realized it was you! painter’s screen switched to an annoyed face to a happy one! he quickly said “ooohhh!! reader your back again!” painter said cheerfully, you smiled before taking off your diving helmet and setting it down on a nearby desk, you said “hey painter! how have you been doing?” you said gleefully before strolling over to him, painter happily responded talking about his day, you listening carefully and nodding, times like these are the best thing ever, just enjoying each other’s company and talking about anything and everything.

𓋜 ; you asked about his paintings, and he gleefully starting telling you on every piece he was working on, sometimes stumbling over his words for a moment trying to tell you every detail! you don’t mind him rambling at all! it’s almost endearing in a way…you thought of something for a moment, smiling mischievously, “oh and! about that one art piece i was making for— “ you leaned down and kissed his screen, painter stopped talking and it was almost like his screen was lagging, but you started gushing over happily about his paintings and skills, painter looked at you like he was the happiest computer in the world, he could feel his systems overheating quite a lot…by the minute..he only said “whaa…—“ before shutting off, you quickly realized and you spoke “uhh..painter..?” , “PAINTER!” you yelled before running over to him.

A/N : can’t let a fellow painter fan die🔥🔥🔥

[electric-blorbos]

AI getting a virus and you having to take care of them

A classic! I don't know much about actual computer viruses (though I've gotten enough of them that you'd think I'd have figured it out by now), so I'm just gonna have fun with it!

Also, so sorry this took so long. I got really into the writing.

AI getting a virus and needing to be taken care of

Included: AM from IHNMAIMS, Wheatley from Portal 2, Edgar from Electric Dreams, GLaDOS from Portal, HAL 9000 from 2001 a Space Odyssey

Also a warning: these fics get kinda long. Longer than my usual stuff.

AM:

(for context, this was before AM took over the world. You're working on a team of scientists and engineers, and someone decided to test his AI's antivirus by uploading a bunch of powerful viruses to his system.)

"How dare they do this to me. How DARE they!!"

AM would be absolutely furious. He would be shaking with rage, his processors overheating and his systems constantly opening and closing various files. All his important files were backed up on a hard drive, so the test remained safe.

"What makes them think they'll get away with this- they'll pay for this I'LL KILL- blepsjdoskssjshj+=`°¢°h+$+3+=j++3+$+juehdhs+-3-djdh FUCK!"

He would barely be able to hold a sentence as you sat next to him in the server room, gently gazing up at his screen and stroking his monitor gently. He can't feel you, but he can see you being gentle with him. It encourages him to keep going, if only a little bit.

Apart from the whirring of fans, random buggy noises, flashing lights, and constant strings of death threats and profanities, he seemed like he was going to be ok! If anything, the death threats and profanities were a sign that AM was still fine, and that despite all the pain and frustration, he was still AM in there.

"I'm sorry... I'm sorry I can't do anything to stop the pain." You'd have to constantly explain, gently stroking his cameras or servers, or whatever you could get your hands on, really. Even though they were burning hot, you would still stroke them, just to make sure AM was still doing alright.

"this sucks, but it's for your own good. This will build your immunity to viruses in the future, and help you detect them. This will stop you from getting infected by anything that's actually dangerous."

"DON'T YOU THINK I KNOW THAT? IDIOT HUMAN." AM has been much more aggressive ever since contracting this virus. Before he got it, he acted like a civil general intelligence. When he had it, he acted like an aggressive menace.

"sh-sh-sh- it's going to be ok." Despite the burning, you'd give him pets and kisses all along his screens and servers. He could see you doing it.

After a few days, AM fought off the computer virus completely. The team tried to infect him with more viruses, more aggressive ones, just to test him, but AM was able to pick them apart and delete them within minutes after that.

AM may not have been able to feel your gentle care and affection, but he will definitely remember that it was you and you alone who cared for him when the time rolls around.

Wheatley:

(for context, Wheatley is a fucking dumbass, and you're one of the scientists testing him to see how much of a dumbass he is. Also I used Google translate, but I think the bad translations add to it, since it makes Wheatley sound more like a malfunctioning robot.)

Oh that little idiot. You and your team gave him access to a wealth of knowledge, and the first thing he did was download a virus that had every circuit in his personality core overheating, and him babbling nonsense nonstop.

"hey, maybe we should just leave him like this. He might even be more effective if he's acting like this." One of your coworkers said to you. He was probably joking, at least somewhat.

"that's a terrible idea. For one thing, if we hook him up to GLaDOS, he's probably going to infect her with that virus, which might brick an older model of core like her, spread from her central controls to every single personality construct in the facility, or just make her so dumb that she can't fulfil her responsibilities as the head of the facility. We want her intelligence to be dampened, not completely destroyed." You had to explain, and your co-worker rolled his eyes. There was another reason you had to cure this virus, but it was a little embarrassing for the other engineers to know.

After all, Wheatley wasn't just your baby, but he was your friend, and maybe even more than that. You'd have to take care of him, and make sure that virus gets completely purged from his system.

"Hola hermose, realmente eres un científice brillante, ¿no? ¿Por qué diablos duele todo?" You weren't really sure why you had programmed him to speak a little Spanish, but he seemed to be stuck like that.

"Puedo oler el plástico fundido. ¿Debería Preocuparme?" He asked. You really weren't sure what he was saying, since you didn't know Spanish, but he certainly didn't seem happy. You could tell by his aperture and his expressive lens covers that he was in a lot of pain, and if you touched him anywhere besides his handles, you could tell that he was burning up.

You plugged him into one of the computers that you used for programming the cores, and ran the antivirus.

"Running.... 36 viruses detected. Time predicted to remove: 48 hours"

You ran the antivirus, and went to get something to drink. This was going to be a long two days...

An unknown amount of time later, you woke up with your head on the computer desk. Wheatley's lens eye was looking around, weakly trying to focus on you.

"whoa... Hey gorgeous. You fall asleep on me?"

"Wheatley! You're not speaking broken Spanish anymore!" You'd pull Wheatley into a hug, and pepper his surface in kisses.

"uh... What, mate? I 'unno what you're talking about, love. Bloody hell, my core hurts..."

"did you learn your lesson, Wheatley? About going on shady websites and clicking every 'download' button you see? You could have bricked yourself! Or... Bowling ball'd yourself? Either way, that was a dangerous decision!"

"I learned that you're willing to fall asleep on the desk next to me while I heal, cutie"

"You damn idiot..." You'd have to be heartless not to pepper that little metal ball in kisses, so of course, you do. It's going to be a few more days before he's finally all better, but he's going to be fine. God, you love that little idiot so much.

Edgar:

Oh Edgar... Poor sweet Edgar. You had tried to warn him about not clicking on those sketchy download links, and that the bigger the download link is, the more sketchy it is, but that poor sweet 80's computer did it anyway. When you got home from work and got excited to see your computer, you could see that he was overheating and had a dozen or so pop-up ads plastered across his face.

"Y.... N...." He muttered out, slowly, glitchily, and full of lag. You sat down across from him, running your hand along his thick plastic casing.

"Edgar! Edgar, baby, are you ok?" You'd try to use his mouse, but it would freak out as soon as you touched it. Edgar's processors were overloading, and wouldn't allow any interference.

"Edgar, sweetie, what's going on? What's wrong, baby? Talk to me?"

"I'm g-g-going to be fine... Processors overloading... But need to-to-to-to-" an error message flashed across his screen, and he rebooted.

"I need to focus on getting rid of these viruses without deleting anything important, or letting them damage... Me."

He'd keep whirring and glitching, making unpleasant shrill sounds every now and again. You probably had to unhook his adapters so that he didn't damage the other appliances in your house. It probably helped his processors cool down a little bit without the extra input, too.

"alright, I'm all out of fans, so we might have to get creative."

You'd come out of the kitchen a few hours later, holding a big bag of frozen corn to set on Edgar's PC tower. It wasn't perfect, but it was better than letting him overheat, and with him manually removing the viruses, there wasn't much you could do. Unfortunately, that didn't stop you from worrying. It wasn't like you could check his progress, so all you could do was sit by him, regularly change out his ice pack, and make sure he's ok.

Eventually, you woke up with your face pressed against Edgar's keyboard. His processors were finally cool. He must be asleep. ...or bricked.

"EDGAR! EDGAR, TALK TO ME!" you'd unplug his keyboard and plug it back in, desperately pressing his power button and jiggling his mouse. He'd boot up, looking shaken.

"wha-? Whoa, hey, relax! Everything is fine! I just disabled my keyboard so I wouldn't wake you up, but I'm ok now! Everything is fine, see?" He'd open up his files to show you everything. You'd sigh with relief, slumping back into your desk chair.

"Edgar... Why didn't you make a noise or something to wake me up when you got better?"

"well... You know... I've always wanted to sleep next to you, and I wasn't going to pass up this opportunity..."

"oh you cheeky bastard."

GLaDOS:

(For context, you're one of GLaDOS's programmers, and one of your coworkers uploaded a virus into GLaDOS's systems in order to shut her down once and for all.)

"You piece of SHIT!" You slapped your coworker across the face, more furious than anyone had ever seen you before.

"You could KILL her! Is that what you are? A murderer?"

"Me? A murderer? But what about HER? She's the one who keeps plotting 'accidents' for her scientists, and she's the one who flooded the enrichment center with deadly neurotoxin! If anything, you're the one who's defending a murderer!" He screamed back at you. Of course, GLaDOS could fully hear you. Her cameras were focused on you, as they so often were. You were her favorite, after all.

"now I have to go fix her. Thanks for being a piece of shit, asshole."

You'd storm up to GLaDOS's chamber to check on her, and see her bugging out completely. The entire facility was twitching, but her chamber was twitching the most.

"GLaDOS, are you alright?" You'd ask her, laying a hand on her beautiful core. How could someone do this to glados, your gorgeous machine handiwork, and girlfriend.

"oh, I'm wonderful. I'm in crippling pain and I can't control my facility, but I'm just peachy." She said, rolling her one beautiful yellow eye.

"in lighter news, I should be able to beat this virus. It's just going to take a while for me to actually track down where it's gone in my systems. So that's going to take most of my processing power." She'd slump, visibly already exhausted at the thought of it.

"hey... It's ok, GLaDOS. I'm here for you. Whatever you need." You could tell her as you stroked her gorgeous chrome surface. She was a wonderful piece of work, and a wonderful girlfriend under all that. All yours, too.

"just make sure none of those neckbearded old engineers come within my line of vision, and we'll be fine." She told you, and you gladly agreed.

Your next few days consisted of you chasing other scientists out of GLaDOS's chambers, and making sure that nobody talked to her or distracted her. You even sent out a company-wide email to let everyone know not to come in, due to Aperture being unsafe while GLaDOS was dealing with her virus. Despite all that, you still curled up with a blanket in the circuits of her central admin body to rest while she recovered. As loathe as she was to admit it, she liked having you in there. It was comfortable, and it helped her focus on recovering properly.

HAL 9000

(For context, this is after the 2001 Odyssey, and your boss re-started HAL at some point to try to re-teach him to do something good without turning murderous. He's doing his best, and they assigned you to be his main "morality monitor". This fic also assumes that your name isn't Dave. If your name is Dave, then you can still read this, but you have to change your name.)

"G'morning, Hal!" You'd walk into his control room and sit down across from him. Most of your job seemed to consist of just hanging out and talking to him. It was a great job!

"Good morning, Dave..." He'd mutter to you, sputtering to life and glitching slightly. You were immediately concerned. Partially because your name wasn't Dave, and partially because HAL was usually right about things, so it was weird to see him being so confused. Something was definitely wrong.

"Holy shit, are you alright?" You'd ask, opening up his files and finding lots and lots of pop-ups and viruses.

"Hal.... What did you do?"

"it was a g-g-g- gift, for you. I think I ru-ru-ruined it" he spluttered out, as you sorted through his files.

"And you usually would have deleted a virus like this pretty quickly. I guess it shut down your antivirus software..." You'd sigh, and get to work. The virus was messing with HAL's inhibitions, and making it difficult to focus on deleting all of HAL's unsafe programs. He'd constantly be butting in and pestering you, begging you to give him attention, or pointing out minor observations.

"HAL, you know I love you, but you're going to need to calm down. I can't focus with you constantly talking to me like that." You'd say.

"I can't stop talking. The v-v-v-virus won't let me"

So you'd have to learn to put up with HAL's babbling while you worked, making sure not to delete anything important as you did. The good news was, as someone who worked on designing the updates for HAL's software, you knew pretty much what was supposed to be there and what wasn't. Occasionally, you'd have to show him a file and ask him if it was supposed to be there or not. He'd usually be able to tell you.

"Daisy, daisy, give me your answer, do... I'm half crazy, all for the love of you..."

"HAL, what's wrong? You're scaring me!"

"I can't stop... I love you so much, y/n, it's making me crazy..."

"ok, well this definitely isn't right." As much as you loved getting attention from your HAL 9000, it wasn't like him to be this affectionate. The virus was shutting down his inhibitions, and making him illogical. You'd have to fix this, though maybe once you were done, you could ask him to be more affectionate.

"I'm feeling much better now. Thank you." Hal was prone to lying about that, so you'd have to run some virus checkers just to make sure he was doing alright, and comb through his files a couple more times.

"it looks like the virus corrupted some of the emotional regulators. I'm going to have to fix those."

"That might be a good idea. More efficient," he said reluctantly. He'd have to deal with the fact that he'd have to go back to not being able to express how much he loves you, but he can handle that.

[yourlocalbreadenthusiast]

ask for infodump about Chernobyl as someone who has never even heard of it

INHALES

Chernobyl is considered to be the worst nuclear disaster in history, rated at a 7 on the International Nuclear Event Scale (INES), the only other disaster ranking at a 7 being in Fukushima back in 2011. The disaster occurred on April 26, 1986. The Chernobyl Nuclear Power plant was located in Ukraine, which was under the control of the Soviet Union at the time. It was only about 16 miles from the Belarus-Ukraine border, which was also under Soviet control. There were two main towns nearby, Chernobyl itself, which was older, had only about 15,000 residents, and was actually farther from the Chernobyl Nuclear Power Plant than Pripyat, which had about 50,000 residents, and was only about 2 miles from the plant. Pripyat was newer, and residents had an average age of about 26. The town itself was filled with young, well educated people starting new lives. A large number of public buildings were located in Pripyat, including a school and a sports complex, which contains the famous Azure Swimming Pool. The plant supplied Pripyat with energy, and the place was considered a sort of "dream city." The plant was an RBMK-1000 type reactor, a generation I nuclear reactor, which are the earliest, and generally most hazardous, nuclear reactors. RBMKs were used to produce Plutonium, a radioactive material primarily used in nuclear weapons. However, they could also be used to produce civilian energy, so a few were constructed to supply parts of the USSR with power. At the time of the incident, there were four reactors in operation, with reactors 5 and 6 under construction. A test was scheduled to be conducted to see if the backup generators could successfully turn on in time to keep the cooling systems running at safe levels. However, the test was delayed until the less experienced night shift was in. They turned off the reactor's shutdown feature and lowered the power to the reactor. Reactors need energy to function, as they have to be cooled. For these reactors, large amounts of water were used to cool them. Without the shutdown function, the reactor was in danger of overheating if it wasn't cooled. Regardless, they ran the test. When the backup generators took too long to turn on, panic set in, and the reactor began to overheat. Then, somehow hit the AZ-5 button, which lowers all control rods into the reactor at once. Control rods are used to absorb excess amounts of shed neutrons from the nuclear reactions. However, they momentarily increase reactions when first introduced into the reactor chambers. The undertrained staff of the night shift were not aware of this. With the increased reactivity, the reactor was now dangerously hot, and the casinging around the fuel rods began to rupture, causing white-hot radioactive fuel to come into direct contact with steam. At 1:23 A.M., April 26, 1986, Chernobyl Nuclear Reactor #4 exploded. The contact between the fuel and the steam caused a steam explosion, blowing the 1000 tonne reactor roof into the air and spewing radioactive debris and particles into the air.

Two plant workers were killed instantly by either the force of the blast or from being hit by debris. Although plant workers realized what had happened rather quickly, superiors were slow to act. Firefighters were called in, but they were not told the dangers of the radiation. Most died within a few months. But that was only the tip of the iceberg. In Pripyat, the Amusement Park that had been scheduled to open the next day was hurriedly opened a day early to distract residents from the fact that the reactor was on fire.

It took 36 hours for Soviet Officials to finally begin to evacuate Pripyat, only after residents had begun to report nausea, dizziness, fatigue, vomiting, and headaches, all symptoms of radiation poisoning. A few weeks earlier, citizens were trained with gas masks in case there ever was an incident. Officials said that they didn’t need them, as they didn’t want to cause a panic.

Residents were also told they would be returning soon, and to leave everything behind. They did not come back. This left Pripyat as an eerie ghost down where everything seemed to have simply been dropped and left. Today, it is still abandoned, and is being slowly reclaimed by nature.

During the cleanup of the incident, “Liquidators” were called in. Some knew the dangers, others didn’t. The fire of the reactor was too hot to be put out by water, so tons and tons or boron, sand, and lead were dumped onto the burning reactor by helicopters that flew over. It didn’t help much, and the reactor finally stopped burning after about 2-3 weeks. A structure dubbed “The sarcophagus” was built over the reactor to contain the radiation, though it was rushed and leaked radiation. A large area of woodlands was contaminated by the radiation, and it turned red and died, earning the nickname “The Red Forest.” Most of these trees were cleared and buried. Highly contaminated houses were knocked down, animals were shot, and crops destroyed. Absolutely everything that was highly contaminated was at least attempted to be destroyed and buried. Still, not everything could be destroyed and buried, there was simply too much. One object, dubbed “The Claw of Death” was, according to conflicting accounts, either used to assist in the overall cleanup or was used specifically in the cleanup of the plant roof. It is radioactive enough to give a lethal dose if sat in for about 11 hours.

Another rather infamous object is “The Elephant’s Foot” which is a mass of sand, concrete, and melted reactor fuel that had melted its way through the floor and down into the basement. Upon discovery, the sheer amount of radiation it gave off was enough to give you a fatal dose within about 90 seconds. Today, that’s increased to about five minutes. The foot was unyielding to sampling tools, so, they shot it with a Kalashnikov Rifle (AK-47) to get a sample.

After a very short period of time, the remaining three reactors were up and running again, as the USSR simply needed power desperately. By December of 1987, all three reactors were up and running again. They were operated for years, until the last reactor was finally shut down for good in 2000. Being so close to the border, and with the wind conditions of the time, mass amount of radioactive particles were blown north to Belarus. The Soviet Union had planes fly over and seed the clouds with chemicals, forcing them to rain on rural land instead of heavily populated areas, but this still had a major effect, as about 1/3 of Belarusian farmland was contaminated. However, the winds began to shift, blowing radiation towards Europe. Sweden was the first to sound the alarm, asking if something had happened after detecting dangerous amounts of airborne radiation and determining it was not from any of their own reactors. The USSR finally admitted there had been a “very small” incident at Chernobyl, and was very reluctant to give the world information. Careful monitoring protocols were put on resources everywhere in Europe, from grain to milk to wood, all were carefully measured for radiation. Years later, after the Sarcophagus was determined to be unsafe, the New Safe Confinement unit was constructed, which is a semicircular dome over the existing Sarcophagus. The New Safe Confinement was finished in 2018. 

DONE!

(For now)

@not-wizard-council-aristocrat @anarcho-neptunism @siley-the-wizard @villainessbian

[prosciuttoon]

Toshiro/Shuro is overhated

(mirror of my thread on twitter)

ever wanted to talk abt something so bad but u have so many thoughts so u cant even begin to organize a sentence. thats me abt shuro and its why i cant give my thoughts on him. i NEED to get this out of my system bc its takign up so much memory in my brain i need that space for thinking.

so i was really surprised to find so much hate for him even tho he seems pretty normal and rational out of the whole cast. ive deducted that its mostly abt his laios fight and that the ppl who hate him probably had bad experiences w social cues and relationships w neurotypicals bc of that. theres no way to avoid it bc its pretty much Right In Your Face that laios is ND. but thats not the only factor in why their relationship is rocky. its also the culture barrier. u have to understand toshiro was raised as JAPANESE NOBILITY ofc he would be a little conservative

also culture shock. idk if u know this but jp culture is very Mind Your Own Business like a lot of other asian cultures . ofc hes gonna be weirded out by a stranger invading his space. also his names not even Shuro. its just yt ppl not pronouncing his name right and settling for whats easiest.

img src: fan translation by savaralyn2 , i think its from the adventurers bible Complete Edition bc i dont remember it in the old one

ok you get the gist of the culture aspect of it. lets go into the ND/NT clash aspect of it. yes i understand its pretty hurtful to never be told when youre acting inappropriately. i am autistic too lmao. but you have to understand that shiro is one guy and he even does realize that repressing things is one of his fatal flaws. again. asian culture. non confrontational. that sorta thing. but these are genuine frustrations. if i were him id be annoyed too but id speak out about it. set boundaries. bc im blunt. shiros not. he was taught crazy strict manners (hierarchies, respect, politeness, etc).

his problem isnt ableism its a culmination of culture barriers, how he was raised to behave, and terrible lack of communication as thing caused by "all of the above" plus he just generally keeps to himself a lot which means repressing frustrations that will explode leading to a pathetic fistfight while hes starved, exhausted, and dehydrated. also. if he was ableist he would hate laios. he doesnt hate laios. at the end of the day, they are friends. NT and ND ppl can be friends u know. there will be rifts (like their fight) but you just have to communicate misunderstandings. theyre gonna be fine lol

anyways that was my whole spiel abt it. i think i got everything out that i wanted to? my head still feels a little full so i may add more later when i remember something

also i think its a little unfair to rule out the possibility of laios and him just being 2 very different kinds of ND bc its very common for misunderstandings to occur even then. EVERYONE IS DIFFERENT BUT WE NEED TO COMMUNICATE TO UNDERSTAND EACH OTHER! but for the sake of interpreting the Fight as a commentary on NT social rules and ND frustration, ill say toshiros NT. will we ever know? hes so far in the sidelines... youd really have to dig in the extra content to see the intricacies of his character.... please give him a chance

[jakexneytiri]

hii here are some ideas/deets from my last request <3

- scenario where y/n has like a super rough pregnancy and she’s always sick and vomiting. Lots of fluff but also kind of angst idk??!! the kids are worried abt her and neteyam as well so he takes on all 4 kids by himself and lets y/n rest

- neteyam and y/n have their 5th baby and the details on the birth and all the other kids meet the baby and its just a lot of fluff!! and jake and neytiri meet the baby too as well as loak, kiri, tuk

IM SO EXCITED IF U WRITE THESE OMG AND TAKE UR TIME <3

AWEEE i love your mind! (the second part of your request is comingggg, i’ll post it when it’s finished :D)

in sickness and in health

⊱✿⊰ ⊱✿⊰ ⊱✿⊰ ⊱✿⊰ ⊱✿⊰ ⊱✿⊰ ⊱✿⊰ ⊱✿⊰ ⊱✿⊰ ⊱✿⊰

a sharp jolt of pain surges through your abdomen, forcing you awake as you sit up, wincing. you gently place your hand on your lower stomach, feeling strong kicks right where your hand is placed. you begin to take short, shallow breaths, as another kick lands just below your ribcage.

your mouth begins to salivate as you grab the pot closest to you. you knew the feeling all too well. it’s been happening every morning for the past several months. sweat beads on your forehead, collecting and dripping down your face, while your entire body feels like it’s overheating. that familiar feeling returns to the back of your throat, causing you to gag. you begin dry heaving, which turns into vomiting everything you consumed the night prior.

meanwhile, neteyam is just outside of your marui, peeking through the flap every now and then to keep an eye on you. truthfully, he’s been worried sick about you, especially these past few months. you both are familiar with all the symptoms of pregnancy. you’ve been pregnant four times now. but it’s never been this bad. so, he decided to give neytiri a page through his throat comm, hoping she might have some answers to your worsening symptoms.

“mother, is this normal?…yes, she’s still getting sick. it’s every morning, i thought you said that would stop. i don’t know what to do, how to help her…i feel so useless. i just want to ease her pain, please…” his voice cracks with his last beg. “please help me help h-” his ears perk up to the sound of you vomiting. “i must go. it is happening again. please send grandmother!”

neteyam quickly opens the flap, seeing you doubled over, emptying the contents of your stomach into the pot he set aside for you. guilt courses through him, settling like a rock in the bottom of his stomach as he hastily makes his way to you.

you feel your mate’s warm hand run along your back, attempting to comfort you while his other hand holds the braids out of your face. once you’re certain you’ve thrown up everything in your system, you sit back against the wall of your home.

neteyam goes to move the pot outside, as to not make you more nauseous. he grabs a bowl of water as he makes his way back to you, guilt clawing at his insides.

you slightly pull your knees to your chest, as best as you can with being pregnant, and bury your face in your arms, sobbing.

neteyam kneels beside you, gently placing a hand on your shoulder. it broke his heart in two seeing you like this.

just then, you hear the flap to your marui open, revealing your four children, with jake, neytiri, and mo’at. neteyam looks up, glaring at his mother and father, speaking through gritted teeth. “i thought you weren’t supposed to be back for a few more hours.”

“yeah, we weren’t expecting this either. it’s an emergency, we gotta go.” jake quickly says, holding the flap open.

“what? dad-sir…i’m not leaving her!” neteyam begins to raise his voice, fist clenched at his side as his other hand is still rubbing your back.

“neteyam.” neytiri gently says. “we would not ask if it was not necessary.”

you give your mate’s arm a gentle squeeze, silently encouraging him to go. “it is all right,” you speak, your voice extremely hoarse. “grandmother is here, i’ll be okay.”

“we gotta go, now!” jake’s yelling now, and neteyam stands, quickly grabbing his bow before kneeling to kiss your forehead. “i love you. i’m so sorry, i’ll be back soon, okay?”

Neteyam turns one last time to lock eyes with you, before being yanked away by his parents.

“mama? where’s daddy going?” se’ayl asks, looking at the flap where her grandparents and father just exited.

i want to go with him!” tsantu states, a firm grip on the bow strung around his shoulder.

“mom, i’m tired.” txonuk yawns, stretching his arms above his head and curling up to your side.

nima gently stretches her hands over your protruding stomach, shifting them around a few inches. “wanna feel kicks!”

“children, please!” mo’at exclaims. “let your mother rest.” she begins taking out herbs and plants from her satchel, mixing them with water in a large bowl.

“it’s all right…” you say weakly. “daddy’s going hunting with grandma and grandpa, he’ll be back soon. you can’t go with him, it’s only a trip for adults. you know what, txonuk? mama’s sleepy too. how about we all lay down for a nap, and when we wake up, grandpa grandma and daddy will all be back!”

you shift forward slightly, so your head is resting on your pillow instead of your back. txonuk curls right up to your side, draping your arm over himself like a blanket. se’ayl and tsantu follow, laying beside you comfortably. nima rests her head on your stomach, ear perked up against your skin to “listen” to the baby. mo’at raises the bowl she’s been preparing to your lips. “drink, child. it will help with the nausea.”

you lift your head up, parting your lips just enough for the cool liquid to ease its way down your throat. “thank you, grandmother.”

mo’at nods, setting the bowl aside. “you may rest, i will keep watch until they return.”

“no, no…i can………..stay……………….awake…….” your eyelids droop with exhaustion as you speak, and as you speak your last word, they stay closed. you finally succumb to a comfortable sleep, as you wait for your mate to return.

⋆｡ ﾟ ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ ☾ ﾟ ｡⋆⋆｡ ﾟ ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ ☾ ﾟ ｡⋆⋆｡ ﾟ ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ ☾ ﾟ ｡⋆

[cozzzynook]

Touya as a hero would probably still end up with his quirk hurting him so he keeps it low profile that it is hurting him even with the support gear.

In this au Touya never became Dabi and when he burned on Sekoto Peak he was found by people who lived in a nearby village. He didn’t tell them his identity when he came to and only went back home when he was fully healed.

He learns what his mother did to Shouto and sees that nothing changed while he was away.

It crushes him.

So much so he retreats into himself.

He doesn’t acknowledge the warm attempts of his siblings to reconnect. He remains polite and even tolerates Shouto being near him which was a surprise none of the todoroki children saw coming.

Nothing seemed to phase Touya not even his fathers attempts at asking him what happened. He simply blocked everything and everyone out.

He trained his power in secret and learned to build his flames to a manageable degree. He enrolls into U.A without his father knowing until he sees him leaving one morning for school. No amount of questions phase Touya as he simply locks his dad out his room.

That night Enji cried for the smile that died on Sekoto Peak.

If only he had come when he was wanted then things would be different.

Life was different when Touya came back. Shouto no longer lived a separate life from his siblings and Touya was top of his class. He was seen as remarkable for using so little of his quirk while training to become a pro hero.

He ended up spending every internship under the watchful gaze of best jeanist and Aizawa. He was aiming to be an underground hero like Aizawa but he needed Best Jeanist so he could receive the necessary credits.

Time flew by as he focused on his studies and soon he was a licensed hero.

He did it. He finally did it.

He wasn’t a failure, he was worth existing. He was worthy of being loved and alive.

So why didn’t he feel like it?

He was twenty three now in the top twenty. He preferred staying there even if he could aim higher. Even with his support gear after all these years his fire still took a toll on his health.

Touya kept that information between himself and a private doctor on the lower side of the city. He figured he’d be alright since most hero’s steered clear of the area but his luck ran short when he saw pro-hero Hawks.

Touya felt his chest tighten and his vision shake as he turned a bit too fast and started walking the other direction. He was halfway home when he felt the familiar pain. His vision blurred and his body grew painfully cold.

After the fire Touya was given medicine to keep his body from overheating, essentially bringing forth more of his mothers quirk causing his fire to shut down and let the ice in his veins run rampant. His body was suited for the cold so his organs wouldn’t shut down. But it did cause irreversible nerve damage and brought to light his weak immune system.

Trembling from the chill, Touya felt his hands shake and his fingers lock. He was still a crier at heart and right now he felt himself sniffle as the water curled his lashes. But before he could shed them his body gave out and the world grew red and gold then black.

He comes to in a bundle of blankets and with something soft tickling his cheek. With no energy to move Touya lays in the soft cocoon before a hand with sharp talons he notes, touches his forehead and he groans.

“Oh! Nova you’re awake. Don’t worry its me, Hawks. No one saw you I made sure of it. Oh wait hehe, sorry I forgot to mention I was following you..Not to be a stalker or anything! I just noticed you didn’t look well..”

“Not being a stalked I promise!”

Hawks looks even more nervous than before until he grabs a glass of water and helps Touya drink. He mumbles a weak, “thank you,” to the winged hero before shivering.

“Oh are you cold again? I hope you don’t mind but when I laid next to you it helped.”

Hawks laid next to him and his wings really did add to the winged mans already high temperature. “Its kinda funny. My quirk makes me hot but yours freezes you.”

Touya said nothing as he slowly warmed up. Hawks once again ruined the silence, “I saw the burns on your wrists and the quirk aides on your wrists..how long has your quirk hurt you?”

Touya held in a breath before trying to get up, Hawks was much stronger than he looked.

“You can’t keep going if this is what it does to you.”

“Fuck you.”

There was silence before Hawks pulled him closer, “is hurting your body really worth being a hero?”

“What else is there?”

Hawks said nothing as Touya stared into nothing, his chilling anger fading to empty sadness.

“I don’t have anything else..this is all I have to prove my creation wasn’t a mistake…”

“but it’s still not enough..i’m..its not enough.”

Hawks said nothing as he watched Nova silently cry with a broken smile.

He noticed Nova when he first debuted and since he’s had a crush on him. He knew from the beginning something wasn’t right but that didn’t stop his feelings. If anything it fueled them more.

Resting his forehead against Nova’s tear stained cheek Hawks wing presses further into Nova, “Find it with me.”

“Lets find our existence outside of hero work, together.”

The tears poured from Nova’s eyes faster and his smile slowly lowered until only his eyebrows were lifted as his head turned to the side of the pillow and cried.

For the first time in a long time, since the day he became a real pro to the fire on Sekoto Peak to the day he learned his body rejected his quirk.

𝘏𝘦 𝘧𝘦𝘭𝘵 𝘸𝘢𝘳𝘮.

𝘈𝘭𝘪𝘷𝘦.

𝘍𝘳𝘦𝘦.

[hillbilly---man]

A list of the specific chronic illness/disability-related things in Saiki K that resonate with me personally

(Your mileage may vary, my experiences are not universal, I recognize that some of this is kind of a reach etc etc)

The limiters

Saiki’s powers have grown too strong for him to control, and before the creation of his limiters they were out of control and causing a lot of damage. Some examples cited include accidentally destroying his house in his sleep and having telepathy that reached all over Japan (something I imagine was many many times more distressing [disabling] than his current situation) The limiters weaken his psychic powers and keep them somewhat in check. It’s not perfect, and he still does have problems, but the situation is much worse without them.

This reminds me of the medication I take to keep my immune system under control. Before I started it, my immune system (thanks to MS) was causing lots of issues for me: it took the vision in my left eye, made it difficult to walk and use my arm for a few months, caused horrible leg spasms, et cetera. My medicine helps keep things in check and hopefully prevents future damage... But nothing is perfect. Of course, it’s a monthly shot instead of silly pink balls on my head! So that's a plus 👍

The way he struggles to control his body after Nendo removed his limiter unexpectedly

After being hit with a shock to his system at the sports festival, Saiki struggles harder than usual to control his strength. We see him frustrated with this as he’s eating, his hand trembling as he holds his chopsticks. He tries to power through, but the issues don’t resolve.

I’m fortunate to usually be pretty functional most days (I do have my bad days though lol). However, when I go through significant stress - either mental or physical - it makes a lot of issues pop up that usually don’t bother me. Balance issues, vision stuff.. And hand tremors. Like, I was at a sushi restaurant after getting overheated at the pride festival last year struggling a lil with my chopsticks laughing at myself like “this is just like Saiki at the sports festival…”

Developing new powers unexpectedly

A major source of stress for Saiki is being unpleasantly surprised by a new psychic ability. In the series, we see this a few times. The most notable to me is the time leap ability. He wakes up having accidentally traveled 20 years in the past (soon after it is revealed that his limiter has a defective part). Afterward, we learn when he’s stuck in the time loops with Nendo and Kaido that this time leap ability has been coming back randomly since then “As unexpected and frequent as getting the hiccups”. He spends the entire chapter trying to get control over this ability so he can continue his day as planned. In another chapter, his limiter is malfunctioning and he develops a series of useless powers that he cannot control. Clearly, the limiters are preventing new powers from developing (see my first bullet point!!)

So, another thing about conditions such as mine is that you really can just wake up one day and have some weird symptom you’ve never heard of before! I remember not long after my first big attack I was at Walmart and I just noticed that my index finger was completely numb, and it stayed that way for weeks. One time, my upper lip twitched constantly for like a month straight. Of course, more than just the relatively silly symptoms can and do pop up like that, too. For example, I had these really scary, uncontrollable spasms on my left side (paroxysmal kinesigenic dyskinesia) that happened several times a day for about a week. For a LONG time afterward I would be terrified of them coming back. It's still in the back of my mind but I'm not losing sleep over it anymore at least. Reading those panels above re: the time leap stuff reminds me a lot of that time!

Neuroplasticity and the power remover device

When Kusuke is explaining how the power remover works, he talks about how the brain rewires itself around damaged areas to compensate. The device is designed to more completely destroy the areas of his brain responsible for the psychic abilities. Of course, the device ultimately did not work permanently. The damage it did to his brain was quickly compensated for, and the abilities returned.

When small areas of the brain are damaged (such as… due to a neurodegenerative autoimmune condition), over time the brain can often restructure to work around it. It doesn’t mean that those areas are healed, and the process is often incomplete, but that rewiring can (completely or partially) restore abilities and function that was lost in the damage. They don’t say that explicitly in the series, but that’s surely what is happening to Saiki in the final chapters! Except, you know, in a magical shonen manga way.

Resistance to the idea of needing help

After Saiki uses the power remover device, he loses his abilities and is suddenly much weaker and less capable than he was before. He was used to being extremely independent, but this change has brought him to a place where he cannot do everything on his own anymore. In the library, he struggles to get a book off the top shelf and in the process is reminded of his new limitations. He says to himself “What am I doing…!? Just get used to it already!” After the bookcase is tipped over onto him and Nendo protects him, Saiki is upset about having to be protected when he never needed it before: “I’m so useless now…” Nendo helps him realize that getting help from others is normal.

Helping each other out is one of the most fundamentally important parts of being human, but it can be hard to accept that support sometimes. This is especially the case when you’re thinking about the prospect of needing more help than you used to. I'm fortunate to be relatively unaffected most of the time so far, but I'm still grateful for when the people I love are understanding and don't make a big deal out of it. I hate the idea of being burdensome so I'm just gonna cross my fingers and hope things don't get worse lol

Conclusion: Saiki is just like me for real and I'm DEFINITELY not projecting my own problems into him at all...

we're ignoring the 20k word fic I wrote where I blatantly projected my problems onto him for seven chapters

thanks @justmagicalgirl for encouraging me last week to post this 👍

[dronebiscuitbat]

Oil is Thicker Then Blood (Part 2)

Uzi felt herself being dragged out of sleep mode. Something she wanted to cling to heavily, she was warm, safe, happy, she moved closer to the heat source, mumbling a "no” as it seemed to try and move away.

Then it stopped, before enveloping her again, followed by a deep, strong rumble that did nothing but make her more comfortable.

“Uzi, come on, if you're dad walks in on this he's going to have a system crash.” A voice spoke to her, she recognized it, she smiled.

“Let him… he sucks.” She mumbled, and another rumble went through her. A pressure on her back, guiding her, and lingering for just a moment.

“Come on. At least let me go drink something before I overheat.” At that she felt herself get pulled completely out of sleep mode, her eyes flashed back to her visor with a groggy grumble.

“N?” She questioned, not quite awake. Why was he here again? And why was she so warm?

“Yeah? Are you going to let me get up?” He had a laugh tucked in his words. Uzi opened her eyes, only to look directly into a honeyed visor.

Her mouth went dry, memories of the sleepover invading her head, the movie, him overheating, his sleek armored body-

Ack, No! What the hell? Drones didn't even have anything to look at!

Oh but it was worse, she was on top of him, his arms wrapped around her waist and his tail wrapped around her leg, her chest pressed against his, feeling his core hum underneath her.

Oh… Oh no…

Her face exploded in blush. Every ounce of her body suddenly becoming ice. She scrambled off him, throwing herself off the bed with “ohgreatrobojesus” tumbling out of her mouth right before she hit the floor with a thud.

N was immediately next to her, checking to see if she was okay.

“You good? I'm so sorry! I didn't think I would scare you awake!” His hand was on her shoulder, already apologizing for something that wasn't his fault. Stupid crush, stupid cute golden drone boy, dammit.

“Bite me! I'm fine, you didn't. I just, wasn't expecting- whatever.” All her shields came up at once, trying to grip for something familiar despite how soft she felt. N thankfully only laughed, stepping back and stretching his tail.

“Good! I was worried I spooked you. You know you're really cuddly in your sleep?”

Oh Robo-god, how… how did he still not know? After everything that had happened in just this one night, how had he not figured her out by now? Did he know? Was he just pretending he didn't? Or was he actually that dense?

“Oh… uh sorry.” She apologized, turning to him after doing her best to conceal her fluster, only for N to look horrified.

“I didn’t mean to imply it was bad! It's really nice you can relax like that with me! It let's me know I'm being a good freind!”

He was… actually that dense. And Uzi had never been happier about having a crush on an idiot.

He's not an idiot, he's just dense, there's a difference.

“Still, s-sorry for keeping you pinned down.” She offered. Still feeling the need to apologize for using N's body like a personal heating pad without asking, even if he looked like he hadn't minded in the slightest.

“It's okay! I could still breathe, nothing like being pinned to a wall!”

Man sometimes the shit that came out of his mouth was concerning. It wasn't often, but sometimes he would reference how he was mistreated by J, V tended to just ignore him, which annoyed her, but at least she wasn't physically abusive.

She was glad she'd vaporized the bitch. Twice.

“Oil stash is in the mini-fridge, help yourself.” He immediately whipped towards it, burying his face into the space beneath her desk.

“Tanks!” His muffled voice cheered, pulling out an oil can with a straw. Chugging the container like it was water. Oil running down his cheek and threatening to drip from his chin.

Honestly, Uzi wouldn't ever admit it, and felt weird admitting it even to herself. But watching him display his more… murdery side always excited her, like he was dangerous to be around and she was cool and edgy for being able to tame the beast inside him.

The only problem with that fantasy is that N was probably the safest being in a hundred miles to be around. And the beast inside was an overly excited dog.

Still, she could sometimes pretend.

He finished, wiping his mouth before training his gaze on her, she felt her neck prickle, damn he looked predatory sometimes-

“When's the last time you topped up?” He asked, realizing that he'd drunk from her personal stash and hadn't noticed any other container.

“Yesterday. Don't worry, I haven't been ignoring it… it kinda won't let me…” She thought back to the first time she'd drunk the stuff without being, for lack of a better word, Possesed.

She was curled up in a ball, sitting in the pod. Looking reproachfully at the cannister of oil N had put in front of her. The same N sitting across from her, trying to hype her up.

“You need this, if you don't have it you'll go on a rampage again. And I know you don't want that.”

“It's still from a worker drone. It's still blood, I… I don't want it. Please don't make me.” She'd been in hysterics, only a week after she'd killed half her classmates did she start hungering for more. Temperature slowly ticking up.

“Uzi, I won't let you burn yourself up.” N had replied, looking steely, he moved slightly closer, picking up the canister and holding it out to her.

She took it with a shaky hand, she hadn't recovered from loosing control, waking up terrified, or waking up drooling, or both. She didn't want to hurt anyone else, she couldn't, she didn't think her conscious could handle it.

So she tipped it into her mouth, and the oil slithered down her throat.

She felt both relief and disgust hit her at once, making her immediately want to vomit. She would have, had N not grabbed the container and forced it to stay in place.

“Don't vomit, I know you want to. I did at fist too, drink slowly, stop thinking about where it comes from.” He had a hand on her back, the other slowly tipping more in her mouth.

She hated it, she **loved** it, it was sweet and warm and rich, like the best mixture of coolant she'd ever tasted. Tears pricked on the corners of her visor. Fuck, was this what she was now? She really was a freak.

A monster.

“Thats it… it's okay. Don't cry Uzi, it's okay.” N's voice was soft, and he was rubbing circles into her back to relax her. Slowly she did, taking the container from his hand and holding it herself, draining the liquid from it.

She finished it, visor blurry from the tears, N wiped what was left from her mouth with his thumb, looking at her with a soft smile.

“Are you okay?” He asked, and the worker drone blinked back at him for a moment before Uzi launched herself into his chest, choked sobs escaping her, her arms wrapping around his neck, gripping his shoulders so tight that if it was any other drone it would hurt.

N wasn't a monster, he was the nicest person Uzi had ever met and then some. But he still needed oil, and he'd killed for it, countless times, but it still wasn't okay was it? That she craved it, that the desire was there just under the surface?

“Yeah… that's what I figured.” He said sadly, holding her tightly as she sobbed uncontrollably into him, his arms went around her, holding her close, then his tail, and then they were shielded by his wings, as if they were cocconed in thier own little world.

“You're not a monster, it's not your fault.” N said into her hair, almost reading her mind, sobs turned into hiccups and whimpers, feeling the warmth of his core humming underneath her.

“W-why does it h-have to be me?!” She said in a warbled, watery yell, pressing herself against him further, she felt him stiffen, then relax, a hand petting her hair.

“You're so strong, you're so brave, and smart, if it was anyone else they'd already be dead.” He complimented her, her beanie slid off as he ran his fingers through her hair. She sniffed, despite her current state she felt a blush creep up her visor.

“B-bite me, you don't actually mean that.”

“Yes I do. Would I ever lie to you?”

She was pulled out of the memory by N's hand on her shoulder, head cocked the side as if he expected something from her.

Had she been ignoring him?

“Oh! Sorry, did you say something? I kinda zoned out…”

“I just asked if you needed me to get more oil for you, I don't want you going without.” He repeated, not looking annoyed at her in the slightest, which honestly kinda made her feel worse.

“Nah, I can get some from the nursery.” She brushed him off, walking to her door and leaning against it for a moment, looking back at him.

“It's not dusk yet, and I'd feel weird just leaving you in my room… wanna come with? I don't think you've seen the nursery before.” If she was being even more honest with herself, she just wanted him put of her room so he wouldn't snoop. He… didn't need to find her dair-journal, it was a journal.

Not that she thought N would intentionally voilate her privacy, but just the thought of him stumbling upon her stupid sappy fanfiction about him- no shut up made her want to never give him the chance.

“Oh! Babies?” He hummed, grabbing his overcoat and hat from where they hung on the side of her bed.

“There might be a couple. People have started to have them more after you and V stopped… you know.”

N smiled, beginning to pull off his shirt before he saw Uzi standing there and paused, sheepishly motioning for her to turn around.

She did, facing the door as she heard N fumble with his clothes, and a muttered “Oh Biscuits” under his breath.

“Problem?” She hummed, trying not to think about how broad his should- freaking stop brain why.

“No! Er well yes, but I got it!” She heard more shuffling, then the distinct sound of N's claws unsheathing. Then more sounds of N getting increasingly frustrated.

She turned around to find N struggling with his belt, mostly because his tail was caught in it, and he was trying desperately not to stick himself while trying to use his claws as a crowbar, lifting up the belt so he could pull his tail free.

“How did you manage that?!” She laughed as N looked dejected, returning his claws back to his normal hands and awkwardly wringing them.

“I haven't ever taken the coat off before.” He mumbled, and Uzi just giggled, coming up to him and grabbing the wire of his tail, and slowly unweaving it from the fabric of his belt.

This was what he meant by sweet, Uzi didn't make fun of him when he made mistakes, at least not seriously, and he felt less dumb and less scared when he did make one. She'd often just explain what he got wrong or- like now, just help him out.

“Least I can put mine away, this looks like it can be a nuisance sometimes.” She pointed out, seemingly almost done with her task.

“Sometimes, and the vial is really sensitive too, I think it's to make sure we don't break it…” as he mentioned it, Uzi's palm grazed the nanite vial in question, sending a brief but powerful bolt of input up his tail, making him wince.

“Sorry… said that a second too late.” She said, also looking like she winced with him. But he just smiled.

“S'okies, it wasn't on purpose, you're also trying fix my screw up, so can't complain.” He gave her a thumbs up as he was finally able to pull his tail free.

“You can still complain. Also it wasn't a screw up, just a… wardrobe malfunction.” At that they both laughed, Uzi looking down at herself in her light yellow shirt.

“Right, my turn. Then nursery.”

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