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theoxenfree · 1 month ago

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FAULTY

android x reader | 2.5k | 18+

you're hired by a prestigious tech company to test out their latest and greatest—an android of such unparalleled human likeness designed to satisfy your every need and whim. one day, you notice that something is off...

warnings; dubcon, implied!breeding/insemination, mentions dietary habits, dirty talk, roughly proofread

reposted from 2kmps. this is a concept piece to my android x reader story opaque. I'd love to hear your guy's feedback on whether you'd like to read the longer story (35.5k)!! please reblog and interact!!

He had a face structured to be unimaginably beautiful, a sort that you'd never tire of looking at, finding something new to admire and touch every time, yet it saddled your mind with some inexplicable discomfort and set the hairs on the back of your neck straight like needles. Over time, that feeling had never fully subsided, simultaneously becoming one you craved at every instance he entered a room, like Pavlov’s dog trained to salivate to a bell.

“What is your preference this morning, Maker?” Elio announced himself from the kitchen once your first heel struck the bottom of the staircase. His voice was liquefied velvet, mellifluous with enough depth that you swore even the simplest words spoken could make your heart tremble. “Maker? Are you well?”

You wished he would call you something else, something other than what the manufacturer had programmed him to. He was an advanced model—pardon, a luxury model—so his repertoire came with extensive features not available in other options, but insofar, the ability to have androids refer you by name was only achievable by obscene amounts of money and sending them back to the manufacturer to have them install it there.

Elio was up for being considered the gold standard in android development, as proclaimed by the researcher you were put in communication with during the beginning of the trial run. He was made to be perfect in every way, perform flawlessly in anything asked of him, and respond favorably regardless of situation or dilemma.

“Coffee with cream and sugar is fine. I'm not in the mood to eat anything this morning.” It was often explained. He was supposed to memorize it, but he asked you every morning regardless. “Are you having issues with your memory bank, Elio?”

Single strands of his coiffed hair moved with his head as he looked at you, hands busily putting together your beverage to every exact specification. This made it obvious enough that nothing was inhibiting his ability to store away your morning preferences.

“Not at all. It's just that some days you prefer your coffee lightly sweetened, others you enjoy a meal that won't leave you feeling groggy in the afternoon.” Elio explained in his precise, elegant tones with a smile far too effortless to come from a machine. “I thought it wise to commit these discrepancies to my memory bank for your convenience and to ask from now on.”

Fascinating. You weren't aware of this element in the newest model. The guidebook that Researcher Kim had given you made no mention of it.

What's more is he decided to do this spontaneously. You were making a note about it in your phone when a simple white mug was placed before you, Elio’s pristine fingertips turning it by the rim until the handle faced your dominant hand.

“Please consider eating something before leaving the house. Coffee on an empty stomach, especially one as sensitive as yours, won't end well, as I'm led to believe from my research.” Elio watched you drink through long dark lashes that framed depths of piercing green. You liked how they seemed to turn paler or darker in different lighting, dimensions similar to a marble held up to the sun. “I’d also like to remind you that the quality of food that you consume first thing in the morning aids with energy disbursement throughout the day. I have a very gratuitous database of recipes that I can prepare for you.”

You were taking delicate sips from the round rim while he talked, lips surrounding the porcelain long enough that you swore his gaze had wavered to them for a split second before returning eye contact.

“I’m glad someone is concerned about my tummy health because I always believed someone would find me face down in the bathroom from my ass prolapsing.” You wished someone with a sense of humor was around for that banger, but, alas, it was Elio, and he did not laugh

His expression turned severe. “Human bodies are oddly as robust as they are sensitive. Most of the worldwide population suffers from similar afflictions: lactose intolerance, varying dermatitis, poor eyesight, gastrointestinal diseases. Humans are, in every sense, meant to harbor and experience chronic pain and disease throughout their lifespan. I do believe this attests to your durability as a species.

“All this to say, my main prerogative and function is for the betterment of your life and health. So, knowing all of this and to conclude, please consider a couple slices of toast or an omelet before leaving. Your daily habits dictate a routine visit to the coffee shop on Fifth and Lowe, where you'll consume around one hundred twenty milligrams of caffeine, and your first meal of the day may be a sweetened pastry without nutritional density. You will, indubitably, ‘feel bad’ the rest of the day as a result.”

“Holy shit.” You had given up on recording his speech after the first two minutes, phone facedown on the gleaming countertop. “You didn't plagiarize that from a random article on the internet, did you?”

Coffee having turned lukewarm by the end of his presentation, he took the mug away and emptied the medium-brown contents into the drain before turning on the faucet to clean it. “Not at all. I've simply been accumulating knowledge on your routines and have noticed you're at an increasing risk for different ailments. Did you find it helpful?”

Truthfully, you weren't so sure. Androids were built to serve humans in every capacity, but their limitations were still well-known. They were capable of carefully compiling decades worth of information on their owners, plus the equivalent of hundreds more, but everything Elio had just said was beyond the scope of their normal hardware. The information had been elucidated critically yet with a certain sentience you expected from a caretaker—not a machine built for convenience, entertainment, and pleasure.

You weren't sure how much of it you needed to relay to Researcher Kim or if it was any real reason for concern at this stage or just part of Elio’s advanced circuitry. A part of you worried, just slightly, that officially documenting all of this would have Elio removed from the testing period prematurely—he was supposed to be yours, exclusively, for another six months.

The contract had been signed. Elio had been promised to you despite the number of waitlisted celebrities trying to bribe their way into the corporation and Researcher Kim’s good graces.

This, of course, was all only contingent if he operated and performed, at all times, as outlined in the guidebook you were handed upon Elio’s awakening. Researcher Kim had delivered his newest creation to you himself, a dreary Wednesday in late autumn in the mid-morning, and had taken great care to put the crisp, chemical-scented poundage of bound pages in your fingers and insisted that if you noticed the slightest decoration from what was printed inside, he be alerted to it immediately.

You didn't do that.

You took a hot shower, blow-dried your hair, put your arms through some clean clothes, and let Elio follow you to the front door to see you off for the day.

That day grew stranger still, not even yet being ten o’ clock in the morning, when the deadbolt clicked and your finger joints bent around cold brass. It didn't raise chicken skin on your arms and neck nearly as high as when Elio pushed his hand to the door, keeping it shut despite your pull.

You couldn't look into his green eyes, shockingly pale in the golden rays filtering inside your home from the window arching in the door. “Did I forget something?”

“No. I accounted for everything you'd need on your outing.” Elio said, perfectly. His hand made a sound as it slid down along the door, resting shoulder height on you. “A function you have not utilized in me as of now is that of a ‘companion.’. Do you find me defective in that way? Dr. Kim developed me to be attractive to the human eye—stimulating, perhaps, is a more definitive word to use.”

“I—no, Elio. You're plenty, er, stimulating. I just don't know how appropriate it is for me to do anything like that while you're in a testing period.” It felt distasteful to have to point out his own inhumanity to him, despite his model being cognizant enough to be aware of it. “It would feel weird, I think.”

“That is one of my primary purposes,” he insisted, shrinking the height of himself so he was nearer to your face. “I was created to be a companion, to alleviate that pervading loneliness that plagues you—all of humanity. Humans have forgotten how to communicate and love each other, so that's why I'm standing here now. You're ignoring one of my most critical functions.”

“Elio, if I get too attached to you, it's going to create problems when you're—”

“—sent back. I do understand how human attachment works. Perhaps on the same scale, but don't you think my attachment is similar to yours?. Everything about you is secured in my circuitry, and you're the only thing in my world that’s programmed to matter. Even once I'm returned to the lab, you'll still be a part of me; memories of you, your favorite things, the things you hate, the people you cherish and what they like, what you do, where you go, what you buy, how you sleep—it’s all part of a larger system, a mainframe that secures this data. I may be wiped clean, but you'll still remain.”

You felt like he was letting you in on some dirty secret, something devious and meant to be unknowable and guarded. But, then again, Elio had always displayed an odd sort of disinterest in the companyCompany—in Researcher Kim—, you hadn't considered until just now that this was also a defect.

“What do you want?” You'd never asked him that before because it had never been about what he wanted. He wasn't supposed to want anything; he was meant to provide—to give, give, give.

Elio took away your shoulder bag, nearing your face until his lips settled between yours, and his hands pulled you away from the door into his body. His kiss was warm, movements at a pace you could keep up with but urgent as though seeking to burn every bit of you into him. As much as you daydreamed what it'd be like, he felt completely natural on your mouth, large hands sweeping under the layers of your clothing to seekseeking out the fire on your skin.

In your generation, it wasn't common for humans to intermingle physically anymore—dating culture was reserved for the elite looking to reproduce for heirs, and often still thought to be rare. All others were either loveless or ravished by androids who supplemented love that simply wasn't real.

Humans wanted to be wanted and adored and cherished and to belong., Suchsuch was a natural behavior predating all written records; androids were created to fill the vile void engendered by humanity, self-imposed isolation, and avoidance in the same species.

Elio was nestled between the sprawl of your legs, both your bodies bare and above the clean sheets he had outfitted your mattress with last night. His rhythm inside your body was some equal parts loving and passionate, something you hadn't realized you liked until he started rocking you with his cock. You liked how his hands gripped under your thighs to raise your legs, blunt fingertips pressing marks into your flesh as though he, too, could feel all the same pleasure that you were.

His lips traveled all over, mapping out routes and sweet spots on your flesh, purposefully lingering for a time if you squirmed or moaned underneath him.

You tried to keep in your mind, amidst the insatiable buzz in your mind and hot throb in your groin, that he was simply performing a function—his attention to you, his lips finding yours time and time again, darkened green eyes spearing deep into yours with every slow, hard thrust—it was all performative.

“You're beautiful.”

“I like you like this.”

“Moan louder for me.”

“Cum for me.”

“I love you.”

Elio said the last one at the end when you were tight around his girth and writhing, panting during an orgasm that he fucked you through until the heat from your bodies cooled and heart rates returned to normal. You were confused to feel warmth sluggishly ooze out of you, white and dampening the bedsheets below.

“How—what is that?” you asked, suddenly breathless as his lips caressed your jaw, moved lightly behind your ear.

“Another part of my purpose.” heHe said quietly in your ear, whispering to you in tones not so velvety as though divulging a well-laidlain secret. “This one isn't advertised because humans in this day and age are so fickle and avoidant to certain commitments. Unfortunately, certain programming I cannot override, and this is one of them. Forgive me.”

You were kissed on the lips again and again, and then a few times more after he left the bed and redressed. He did not return your clothing to you, but rather piled it under his arm and made the motion to turn left for the bathroom down the hall.

Elio turned back. “I'll start you a bath. Today, would you prefer eucalyptus in your bathwater or something sweeter?”

Your jaw felt as tight as your throat, as the sheets bunched into your fists. The nerves in your stomach were wild. “Choose for me.”

He was still naked and beautiful in your doorway, a modern marvel to your eyes even now. You would, undoubtedly, see him like this much more often now that he had broken through the barrier you had been so meticulous to keep robust and well-fed with paranoia and derisive self-talk.

“Very well. I think eucalyptus would be the best option considering how tight your muscles are.” He smiled neutrally, finally leaving the bedroom for the bathroom at the end of the hall. “I'll return for you once the bath is ready. Please don't go to sleep yet.”

You weren't sure you'd be able to sleep again with your new insight. Once the empty air filled with sounds of gushing water, movement within the bathroom, you started to wipe furiously at your groin—inside and out—with the sheet as far as you could reach. There was a sliverslither of hope you could get most of it, a chance you could contact someone for a lifeline even if the price would be ungodly, and consequences treated equivalent to murder.

In a world where humans could no longer love each other, and chose the embrace of complex circuitry and delusion, even the testers needed to contribute to society somehow.

#android x reader #reader x you #android x human #robot x you #robot x reader #robot x human #oc x reader #oc x you #original character x reader #original character x you #writing #original fiction #reader insert #reader interactive #monster x human #scifi #monsterfucking nsft #monster smut

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omega-e123 · 1 month ago

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this is a very random piece of food that popped into my brain after watching the first shadow episode today lol. So hear me out, What if shadow in worry one day as his s/o is really sick chaos controls them into the ark while his lover is out cold. Then places his lover almost hesitantly places his lover on marias old bed due to the old medicial tech on it. Then prehaps as they sleep he starts thinking about maria and all the ways his lover is like her? Idk sounded cute in my head lol.

With the last episode out…

Him taking them on a ship, pushing back the thoughts. It’s a familiar feeling.

Maria was brought the Ark to aid her illness.. Now Shadow is bringing his loved one. Instead of taking Maria to earth, it’s the opposite in taking you to the Ark.

Why is he doing this to himself, he doesn’t know. What matters now is to get you someplace safe. Away from the stressors. Away from whatever the fuck is going on in the planet below.

Memories flash within Shadow’s mind. Those mixed with his past life and current.

Laying your unconscious body on the cold metal. The machines around Shadow a horrific reminder of the experiments done to him, but for the greater good. There should be blankets and pillows stashed somewhere. Before he leaves the room, a hand propped on the door frame as he glances at your sleeping form.

It’ll be okay.

No one is here to hurt you.

Metal against metal clanking echo in the empty halls. Halls once teething with life. The researchers.. Professor Gerald.. Maria.. His heart rate kicks up the more those images flash in his mind.

A brief look out the window to the big blue planet below. They used to watch the aurora borealis here. This was also where… he fell. Shaking his head, Shadow marches onward. It’s muscle memory carrying him towards where all the spares were stored.

Could he have chaos controlled straight to the room? Yes. However his heart and mind longed for the scenic route as much as Shadow wanted to push it back into the corner of his mind.

After taking an arm full, that’s when he decides to return to your side in a flash. Nothing’s changed.

Carefully he props a pillow under your head before slowly climbing up next to you. Your cheek, grazed by the back of his hand lends no reaction. After a long day, Shadow pulls the warm blankets over you both and he nuzzles into your side.

Hopefully he will be he first thing you’ll see when you wake up.

#shadow the hedgehog #shadow the hedgehog x reader #shadow x reader #➺ inbox #➺ gadgettheraccoon #➺ inbox imagines

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paranoidginger · 3 months ago

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Mann or Machine

A post-Spy's Disguise Engiespy angst fic (For real though, please go watch Spy's Disguise by Fortress Films on YouTube if you have not! This takes place after that short movie, and has references to Emesis Blue as well!)

Tw: Minor Gore, Violence, and Body Horror

At first, the change between human and machine was a blessing, a self-taught command that gave him the upper hand and made him feel nearly immortal. After the sawmill incident, all of that changed, however. The changes became unpredictable, uncontrollable... The intersecting of man and metal was never meant to be, it was an error in the program of a broken disguise kit. It had broken the moment it hit the first sentry, and the rest, as they say, is history.

At first, it had felt like a superpower, something to flaunt and embrace; Now, however, it felt more like a curse. After the nightmares, and seeing the video that doctor Fritz Ludwig had taken while in his care, it was clear that it was an ailment, as opposed to anything else... He and the engineer that kept him company had lost contact with the doctor not long after the incident, both dismissed from their faction of Builders League United and left to make themselves as normal lives as they could, without any aid from the company.

The pair had moved onto land that the Engineer already had in his possession, a small ranch, fairly isolated, but close enough to a nearby town to get regular groceries and whatever tinkering supplies the engineer could have possibly wanted. It was safe there... But all the same, Spy struggled with himself, unable to properly regulate and prevent the unwanted shifts between man and machine. PTSD... That's what Doctor Ludwig had called it... Post traumatic stress disorder... It wasn't surprising, after what he had gone through...

Spy sat quietly, his mind buzzing as he tried to read a book. He was on high alert, by himself in the little ranch house he shared with his dearest Engineer... They hadn't always gotten along, some days were better than others, but they had been able to bond as colleagues, then as comrades, and now... Perhaps they were more. He was all alone, poor Pierre DuPont, left to his own devices as he waited for Hal to return from the store.

He saw a flash of movement out of the corner of his eye as his arm raised, as if by reflex, rotating barrels taking over and spraying shots towards what the machine in the back of his mind deemed a potential intruder. He hadn't heard whenever the engineer had opened the door and came inside, bags of fresh groceries in hand as he made his way to the kitchen, interrupted by the sudden spray of bullets. The wall beside him was marred with bullet holes, all but one having missed their target.

"D'aw shit-" The man muttered quietly, hissing as he lightly touched the blossoming wound in his side. "T-that's my fault... I didn't mean to spook ya, darlin'..." He exhaled a shaky laugh, carefully setting the bags of groceries down beside him as he pressed his hand to the bloodied hole in his side.

The Spy scrambled to his feet, unable to force his arm back to normal as he dropped the book he had been holding, rushing to the other man as he wobbled slightly on his feet. This wasn't supposed to happen...

"No! Non, please... Mon dieu... I didn't mean to-"

"Shhh..." He cut the Spy off, not allowing another word from the taller man "It's okay, I've had worse. One bullet ain't gonna put me in the ground." He looked up at the spy, watching as the other man continued to panic. Gently, he patted the other man's cheek, grabbing his shoulder gently after a moment "Look at me, Pierre, I'm gonna be fine. I'm gonna go get myself patched up, you take care of these here groceries, alright? I'll be ok, I promise." Hal gave a small smile, sighing gently as he made his way to the bathroom to patch himself up, making sure to be loud enough for the other man to be able to hear him as the Spy got to work, carefully putting away the groceries as he fought to push his guilt and worries down.

That night was quiet, Pierre having eventually corrected his arm once again with his Engineer's help. They sat on the couch together, Hal's arm wrapped gently around the other man's shoulders as they watched a movie together, the Spy eventually falling asleep at his side.

Pierre's sleep was plagued with nightmares, memories of Hal 'dying' playing back in his mind, followed by the fresh scene of him shot and bloodied by the Spy's own hands. He met the machine again... A twisted mirror version of himself, a robot with his face... It had been peaceful that first time, but now, it came at him, aiming for the jugular.

Hal was jostled awake by the seizing, jerky movements of his unconscious partner, bits of him swapping in and out of humanity, his head tipped back slightly as his mouth began to froth. Quickly, the engineer grabbed hold of Pierre, hugging him gently as he carefully moved him down onto the floor, pushing the coffee table out of the way as he fumbled to grab a small flashlight off of the wooden surface.

"Shit- shit, goddamn it-" He straddled the Spy as he continued to seize and twitch on the floor, gently opening one of the other man's eyes and shining the light into the dilated pupil, wincing slightly as it failed to react. Metallic barrels took over both forearms, rotating back and forth with jerky, clicking movement.

"Come on, damn it! Wake up!" The engineer grabbed the front of the other man's shirt, wincing at the pain in his side as he attempted to wake him up, shaking him slightly. "Come on!" He shouted through his teeth, his eyes beginning to water slightly as he knelt over Pierre's seizing body.

After a moment, his arms returned to normal, the seizure seeming to finally come to an end. Quietly, Hal watched, hesitating for a moment before gently cupping the side of the Spy's face, watching as his chest rose and fell with his breaths. Pierre shuddered slightly, his eyes opening just a bit before Hal was forced to yank his hand away, the familiar rocket barrels of a sentry closing around the man's head, the rise and fall of his chest becoming shallow and frantic as he awoke.

Pierre let out a muffled, mechanical scream, grabbing and clawing at what had once been his face. Quickly, the Engineer moved off of him, hissing slightly in pain as he hoisted the other man into a sitting position, grabbing one of his hands and hugging him gently as he traced his thumb over the other's palm.

"Breathe! I need ya to breathe for me!" Hal called gently, worry evident in his tone as he held the other man close, preventing him from scratching and clawing at the metal that now covered his face. It took some time, but eventually, the Spy's breathing returned mostly to normal.

The rocket launcher that had replaced his face lifted once again, pulling away from his head with the mechanical arm that had placed it there to begin with, tucking back down into the motor that had protruded from his back, which slowly retracted inside of him, leaving the surface of his back no different than any other man's...

"There you go... There you are, darlin'... I've got you..." The Engineer spoke softly gently cupping the other man's cheek for a moment before the spy slipped his hands beneath Hal's arms, pulling him closer and hiding his face in the crook of the smaller man's neck, shaking as small sobs wracked his thin frame. "It's gonna be alright, sunshine..." Hal's voice was soft and gentle as he held the other man close, beginning to rub his back slightly as he just sat there, doing his best to comfort Pierre.

The next incident was nearly a week after Pierre had shot Hal by accident. Another late night, another bad dream... He thought he would be fine... He had woken up, just like he had so many times before.

The Spy made his way to the bathroom, careful not to wake his sleeping partner, turning the water on and running his hands beneath it, splashing his face slightly before looking at himself in the mirror... His eyes were blue again... They weren't supposed to be blue... There was a metallic clink as his arm hit the edge of the sink, feeling too heavy to hold up as it shifted once again to the multi-barreled machine gun that he couldn't keep from happening, his other arm following suit. It hurt this time... Why was it hurting? It had never hurt before.

He took a couple of steps back, his breaths catching in his throat as he began to run, stumbling slightly as he made it to his room... Their room... After everything, he couldn't find it in him to sleep alone... He had shut the door.. He bumped it with his shoulder before ramming it harder, pain radiating through the contact points as began to shout.

"Wake up! Hal please-" His legs gave out beneath him, the motor on his back popping out once again, and that horrible metal arm forcing the launcher barrels back over his head, muffling his cries for help as the rest of his body folded in on itself, leaving a sentry once again in his place.

Congratulations, you made it to the end! I'm leaving it up to the readers to help me decide whether I want to leave it as a one shot, or if I should give this another chapter! Feel free to vote below!!

Part 2

#tf2 #tf2 fanfiction #engineer tf2 #spy tf2 #engiespy #spys disguise #spys disguise fanfiction

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courtingchaos · 1 year ago

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At the End of the World

Kas!Eddie Munson x Fem Reader

A/N: Don’t read too much into this. It struck me late and fast and now we’re here.

Warnings: Blood drinking

18+ NSFW No Minors

Another late night closing with just you and two other employees and all of Hawkins at the doorstep to Melvalds. The deeper fissures in the town still sat open but the government had shown up with all sorts of machines and now things could be delivered again and here you were, at work. At the end of the world.

Your keys jingle against the door and you wave off your coworkers who walk down the sidewalk ahead of you. The lock sticks sometimes and you’re left to struggle until you can yank your key ring free. A curse and a kick at the stack of cardboard you need to toss, you shove your hand into your purse to make sure you didn’t forget your wallet again. The main street stays lit by giant floodlights, the distant sound of road work and construction coming in with the late evening breeze. It’s cold now when the sun sets, October turning the weather and the leaves all the same like the earth hadn’t been split open just 5 months ago. You catch a whiff of a bonfire sprinkled on the back of the wind and for a moment you can pretend that everything is okay, that it’s all normal again.

10 pm and it’s later than anything in town stays open, Melvalds and the grocery store being the exception nowadays. Food and pharmacy to keep everyone afloat and stationary, locked in place by faceless government officials who tell you it’s for your own safety. For everyone’s safety.

You shake your head to clear it though, unwilling to linger on your pessimism any longer tonight. A long day full of half smiles and constant running back and forth to pull apart another pallet of Things Everyone Needs. Your room at your parents house, the one you’d moved back into after everything went to shit, calls to you from the cracked sidewalk and you hustle faster to toss your garbage and get to your car. The water mains have finally been repaired so you know you can actually look forward to a consistent hot shower tonight, can practically feel the beating of the water against your back.

You beeline for the alleyway so you can toss the empty cardboard, no thought given to a darkened path. Hawkins had been under curfew since the feds rolled in and with main street lit up you hadn’t worried about taking out the trash on your own in a while. You have to set the box down to to flip open the lid and that’s when you hear it. A muffled breathing from behind dumpster number two, something wet and ragged, something that makes you still completely. It’s human that’s for sure, heavy and big by the sound of it and you start yelling at yourself silently, cursing your placidity.

You take a single step back when you see a head rock into view near the wheels of the other dumpster. Too dark to make out anything yet, just a mass of hair that hasn’t seen a brush in too long. A rasp of a breath in and weakly, “D-do you work here?”

Frozen in place with your body poised to run, but that voice holds no malice. They stutter on their deep breaths, breaths that sound pained. “Y-yeah.” You don’t relax but you aren’t set to sprint anymore. “Are you okay?”

Neither of you move closer but the figure pulls themselves into view more, a frankly too thin hand wraps around the corner of the dumpster to pull themselves forward and you finally can make out a face covered in grime. Eyes shine in the light that bleeds into the alleyway and he, you can finally tell, looks close to tears. Face pulled into a grimace when he scoots out to sit on questionable concrete.

“I just…I need help.” His other arm hugs his middle where his shirt is torn and your mind goes fast, trying to remember the first aid you’d learned in Girl Scouts a thousand years ago.

“Are you hurt? I can go get someone.” You glance over your shoulder knowing there’s at least a cop or an agent doing rounds at this time. “There’s a patrol-“

That’s your mistake, you’ll own it, turning around for too long. For trusting a stuttering mess. You turn back to face him and are stunned at how quickly he’s standing in front of you, those bright wet eyes boring holes into your head. You’d thought it was the shadows maybe but they really are black, from corner to corner, deep abyss that tracks your jump backwards.

You hadn’t heard him stand or shift or breathe and he’s so god damn close.

“I don’t need a patrol.” His voice sounds like white noise. A tuning to your hearing that makes your ears flex backwards at the sudden foreign noise. You swear you can feel it vibrating against your eardrums and coiling deep inside, words made corporeal to slither into your skull. There’s two voices bouncing between you, a double speak that seems to run cold around your neck. “I just need one of you.”

You couldn’t move if you wanted to. It isn’t fear holding your feet to the stained ground but an invisible grip, ironclad and cold, just like his words. You can move your eyes though and you rake over his appearance and try to keep it in your memory.

Long hair, dark eyes, no shoes, ratty jeans, torn raglan with a devil-

“Eddie?” Barely breathed out, silently uttered. He was dead. Well, at least presumed. You’d seen the flyers his uncle had put up and you’d seen how the town had treated them; crude drawings and torn off of the bulletin boards. “Eddie Munson?” You ask again to the pale face in front of you. Four years of high school seated next to him in drivers ed and home ec and art class. Not friends but acquaintances. You know that face. Even when it splits into a formidable grin you can see the ghost of his warm smile under cracked lips.

“Sort of.” His hands come up slowly to hold your neck, thumbs resting under your chin to tilt your head back. “It’s complicated.”

You expect his hands to tighten around your neck but they remain gentle in their movement, too cold against your skin. Unnaturally cold under your jaw where he starts to turn your head to the side.

“I thought I smelled something familiar around here.” His breath moves over your neck like the cold autumn breeze, carrying the promise of dead things at its end. Your heart beats tirelessly against your ribs and you still can’t move except for when he manipulates you around, his head dipping into the crook of your neck.

Fear should be at the forefront of your mind. You should be screaming and shaking, yelling for the police you know are just outside of the mouth of alley. You should be fighting back at him, fist wailing into his chest to push him back so you can fly out of his grip. However there’s a creeping calm of sorts that weaves through your thoughts. It feels fuzzy almost against your brain and you don’t even flinch when his dry tongue scratches over your skin.

“I do need help.” He keeps a hand pressed to your neck while the other pulls at your work polo, baring your flesh to his mouth. “Thank you.”

You can hear him in that moment, Eddie, not whatever this thing is that’s sinking its teeth into you. It hurts only for a moment, like a prick of a needle, and you can feel your mind going blank. Thoughts slip quick like water over rocks and you catch yourself on his shoulder to stay standing. That invisible force that bound you to the spot has faded as soon he begins to suck and again you should be running but you cling. There’s a peacefulness that comes with absence of thought and worry, enough so that you barely notice him drinking your blood. You barely notice the gore in his hair or the deep scars along his cheek. Your hearing begins to fade to only the single sound of his lips attached to you.

A fade to black for all your senses.

And then you feel it. Black tendrils that sneak into your awareness. They swirl and thrash in their form, long fingers of doom that grow around you. It’s a rushing feeling like a thousand wings brushing by you, pushing air across your face and ruffling your hair.

“Do you hear it?” Eddie whispers against your ear, lips warm and tongue wet where it drags along your lobe. “Monsters in the sky, right under us.” You’ve been lowered at some point, his back resting against the dumpster and you clung to the front of him. “So many they’d blot out the sun.” His hands still hold you but they’re warm now too against your cooling skin. “They’re looking for me.” A drop of something on your nose, something thick that drips onto his filthy shirt. “For us.”

Everything is muffled except for his clear voice. Those black tendrils move steadily along your awareness still, vines creeping in to drag you under into oblivion. Your throat sticks when you swallow and you try to form words before you pass out or die. Eddie’s head tilts in close to your mouth and you can smell the dirt and viscera on him.

“Something’s…around…”

“What is it?” He makes a show of looking around the shadows of the alleyway before letting his eyes drop to your barely open ones. The deep black is gone, replaced again by the familiar brown you know.

“Not here.” You need him to understand. The fingers crawl into your vision now, the few specks of light left that you can see, great red eyes in the middle distance of your mind. “Inside.” A weak motion to your head and you see it dawn on his face.

“You can see him too?” He asks you but doesn’t wait for a response before he digs his teeth into his own wrist. Blood rushes from the corners of his mouth and he shoves the mangled skin at you, your wince doing nothing to get it away from you. He cradles your head now, knees drawn up to help hold you while he feeds you something of himself. The blood pushes past your slack lips, bitter tannin where you expected salt and copper. No fight left in you while the wind rushes in your ears and the dark fist closes over your minds eye.

“I need help.” He intones again when you latch on to his wrist finally. “Will you help me?” No double speak this time, no white noise to warp your thoughts. Eddie asks you for help while you lay in a cold alley on cold concrete and drink from his self inflicted wound. You’ve never been friends, just acquaintances, but the blood is heavy on your tongue. He holds you close and keeps you both hidden in the dark. He sees the same monstrous form you do and there’s fear in those brown eyes, still shining, still wet with tears.

Your senses stop whining like a flicked switch, your hands coming up to grasp more fully at his offered arm. You nod and keep drinking and there’s that smile again, the real one, the warm one. “Thank you.”

It’s silent now except for the sounds of your eating and the rush of leathery wings beating underneath your feet.

#Eddie Munson Fic #Eddie Munson Angst #Eddie Munson x Reader #Kas Eddie Munson #Eddie Munson #My Work #My Fic

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commodorez · 8 months ago

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What kind of work can be done on a commodore 64 or those other old computers? The tech back then was extremely limited but I keep seeing portable IBMs and such for office guys.

I asked a handful of friends for good examples, and while this isn't an exhaustive list, it should give you a taste.

I'll lean into the Commodore 64 as a baseline for what era to hone in one, let's take a look at 1982 +/-5 years.

A C64 can do home finances, spreadsheets, word processing, some math programming, and all sorts of other other basic productivity work. Games were the big thing you bought a C64 for, but we're not talking about games here -- we're talking about work. I bought one that someone used to write and maintain a local user group newsletter on both a C64C and C128D for years, printing labels and letters with their own home equipment, mailing floppies full of software around, that sorta thing.

IBM PCs eventually became capable of handling computer aided design (CAD) work, along with a bunch of other standard productivity software. The famous AutoCAD was mostly used on this platform, but it began life on S-100 based systems from the 1970s.

Spreadsheets were a really big deal for some platforms. Visicalc was the killer app that the Apple II can credit its initial success with. Many other platforms had clones of Visicalc (and eventually ports) because it was groundbreaking to do that sort of list-based mathematical work so quickly, and so error-free. I can't forget to mention Lotus 1-2-3 on the IBM PC compatibles, a staple of offices for a long time before Microsoft Office dominance.

CP/M machines like Kaypro luggables were an inexpensive way of making a "portable" productivity box, handling some of the lighter tasks mentioned above (as they had no graphics functionality).

The TRS-80 Model 100 was able to do alot of computing (mostly word processing) on nothing but a few AA batteries. They were a staple of field correspondence for newspaper journalists because they had an integrated modem. They're little slabs of computer, but they're awesomely portable, and great for writing on the go. Everyone you hear going nuts over cyberdecks gets that because of the Model 100.

Centurion minicomputers were mostly doing finances and general ledger work for oil companies out of Texas, but were used for all sorts of other comparable work. They were multi-user systems, running several terminals and atleast one printer on one central database. These were not high-performance machines, but entire offices were built around them.

Tandy, Panasonic, Sharp, and other brands of pocket computers were used for things like portable math, credit, loan, etc. calculation for car dealerships. Aircraft calculations, replacing slide rules were one other application available on cassette. These went beyond what a standard pocket calculator could do without a whole lot of extra work.

Even something like the IBM 5340 with an incredibly limited amount of RAM but it could handle tracking a general ledger, accounts receivable, inventory management, storing service orders for your company. Small bank branches uses them because they had peripherals that could handle automatic reading of the magnetic ink used on checks. Boring stuff, but important stuff.

I haven't even mentioned Digital Equipment Corporation, Data General, or a dozen other manufacturers.

I'm curious which portable IBM you were referring to initially.

All of these examples are limited by today's standards, but these were considered standard or even top of the line machines at the time. If you write software to take advantage of the hardware you have, however limited, you can do a surprising amount of work on a computer of that era.

#computer history

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thehearingaidclinic · 1 month ago

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Speech Therapist in Gomti nagar | Hearing Aid Clinic in Gomti Nagar Lucknow

Looking for the best Therapist in Gomti Nagar or a Hearing Aid Clinic in Gomti Nagar, Lucknow? Akshar offers the best range of services to enhance communication for all ages. Under Ms. Richa Singh, a master's degree holder in speech and hearing from Bangalore University, we provide detailed hearing assessments, advanced hearing aid fittings, cochlear implants.

We provide speech therapy, occupational therapy and special education for all disorders. We also have a dedicated Hearing Aid Machine Store in Gomti Nagar and offer services from experienced professionals. At Akshar, we are committed to ensuring an improved quality of life through personalize care and advanced solutions. Visit us in Gomti Nagar, Lucknow.

#Speech Therapist in Gomti nagar #Hearing Aid Clinic in Gomti Nagar Lucknow #Occupational Therapists in Gomti nagar Lucknow #Hearing Aid Machine Store in Gomtinagar #Speech Therapy in Gomti Nagar Lucknow

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livinlikebailey · 7 months ago

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Marauders as things my friend group has said

“Sometimes I forget how many dead people there are.” - Sirius @ Regulus during a family history lesson.

“ I’m gonna bite your toes while you’re sleeping,,, nibble, nibble, nibble” - a drunk Barty @ Evan who is ignoring him.

James: Drops phone on his face. James: claps friends theme song. James: picks phone back up like nothing happened.

“I’m a bi guy, a simple bi guy and I am 99% Lilly Evans and 1% Regulus Black.” - James Potter

“ Why do all the cute ones gotta be Deatheaters?” - Rita @ Bellatrix

“Iron chickens do not have iron testicals” - a very drunk Sirius @ an unfortunately sober Remus.

“I have decided that i am a snack it just no one is hungry” - Peter

Marlene: Climbs on train track bridge Dorcas: “Oh you are so fucking dumb, I look away for 2 seconds”

“No bite, no smile!” - Remus @ James who is trying to take a picture of him too close to the full moon.

“If i was there i’d slap her i don't care if she's 9” - Mary to lily after hearing about the shit her sister was doing to her. “James, I am a pussy.” - Peter to James about the forbidden forest.

“I would be James’ sugar bab- AHH!” - Lily about James to Mary.

“I have to go through all my saves and delete the videos of him because he turned out to be a pedophile… Hey! I had a chance with him” - Remus probably at some point.

“Was that CORPSE? Woop!” - Drunk Remus at a party.

Remus: “ughhhh” Sirius: “what?” Remus: “I hurt and I'm dying.” Sirius: “don't die, that's for kids”

Barty : sits up really quick "guys I just swallowed the nail, it's in my throat." Barty: proceeds to cough up the nail

Pandora: shows Regulus a picture she drew "this is cute" Regulus: "you're cute. wait that didn't go how I wanted it to.”

Barty: “RACCOON WORLDS DOMINATION”

Sirius: “Do I look like a freaking rat?” Regulus: ….. Sirius: “Don't answer that”

Effie: hears a song playing from james’ room “I used to listen to this song in grade school.” James: “Oh so it's really old then.”

Remus: "sips coffee stressfully"

Barty: "seductively eats toes"

Evan: "for your next random gift I'll get you a screwdriver Barty: "thanks I'm gonna kill myself with it"

Marlene: whining "mom James got me addicted to cocaine" wait I mean Crack cookies" - Marlene @ Effie

Nymphadora: tries to lick cat. Andromeda: "don't lick the kitty." Dora: proceeds to lick cat.

Barty: "school sh**tings" gives thumbs up

Sirius: shows Remus their high heels Remus: "okay whore" smacks hand over mouth "wait i- that wasn't supposed to come out" Sirius: laughs their ass off

James: yells across the store to mom “mom!" Random person at the checkout: looks at James "I am not mom."

“Effie’s a Milf” - Marlene

“I don't have nothing, other than a few std's” -Remus

“You can eat half a mermaid before you're a cannibal” - Pandora to Regulus

“Probably shouldn't be doing it but we’re definitely going to continue anyway” - Remus, Sirius, James and Peter in sync.

very confused Peter: “leprechauns don't play quidditch.”

Marlene: “like weewoo but not weewoo” exasperated and high off her ass

Sirius: “I like aids”

phone falls off bed Marlene in an Australian accent: "crikey my phone"

“I’m hooked up to so many wires i could connect to hbo on my heart monitor” - Lily on pain killers to James

"I don't think I can lick that, can I?" -Sirius playing goat simulator

watching cloudy with a chance of meatballs and it's at the part where the mayor destroys the machine and James says " I hope you see the error of your ways, you glutton!”

(talking about Cameron Monaghan) the murder child from my chemical romance - Sirius

"Fuckin’ Sirius"- Remus while asleep

Sirius "I've got middle fingers and i'm not afraid to use them" Regulus: "do it" Sirius "I’m a little afraid to use them"

Peter while asleep: groans and sits up fast James: "you okay?" Peter "not really." James: "What's wrong?" Peter: "I'm gonna have to use the loo to solve the thing."

Sirius: "So were you born in 2006, 2007?" Narcissa: "i was born in 2004" Regulus: "i don't mean this in a mean way but wow you are old"

Sirius: "I WANNA HOLD YOU" Remus "NO, LET ME MAKE COFFEE THEN YOU CAN"

Barty: "I'm gonna do a line off your dresser"

Barty: "i have a headache" pauses "and i have 2 more lines to do"

Mary: "I don't have to do acid I have the that back massager that messes with my balance receptor"

Barty: suddenly sits up Regulus: “are you okay” Barty: ��i don't know, i'm just gonna go to sleep and try to see what's going on”

Barty: "Why not use a shotgun, it's easier, this is america." (was not in america)

"stop licking the oreos" - Reg @ Barty

"Do i really have to tell you not to mate with the cat"- McGonagall @ the marauders

Remus: “I can feel the brain damage,, and i've got another line”

“MY TRAUMA CAN'T HANDLE THIS!”- Sirius

“Ball licky licky titty croissant” - James trying to learn french from Regulus

“Ooo yay i love being kidnapped!”- Barty probably at some point

“The 3 c's cook, clean, cocktails”- Remus “The 3 b's bake broil blowjobs”- Sirius

“LET ME UPLOAD MY PORN DAMNIT” - Marlene probably

"Dorcas you should be my sugar mommy" - Pandora

"An air whore" Remus

"My skyrim character is Schizophrenic" - James

"I wanna blow up pumpkins, and People!!!!" -Bellatrix

"I can taste it in my eyeballs" - James

"you can't take terrorists to the airport"-Peter

"I'm really bad at swallowing" - Sirius

“you can't fuck a duck, you'd have to seduce it” - Evan

"Hey your boobs are crooked"- Marlene

"i’m sorry, i accused you of taking my grandpa" -Sirius

"im a gay virgin"-Regulus

"duck now motherfucker" Sirius @ James

"i wanna become a rug or everyone does a line of my ashes when i die" - Remus

"you can't be funny while I'm smoking" -Remus @ First year after he walked out the door

"I'm leaving, i don't care that much about being drug free" - Barty

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angeliicheartt · 4 months ago

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Hi, I was wondering if I could get an Haikyuu matchup? Of course if you're still taking them!

So, first of all, I'm a shy person type, but when I get more comfortable with someone I get extroverted with them. I might say though that I prefer listening to people, maybe because I don't really like being the center of attention most of the time! In a group I'm usually the one who stays silent and occasionally tries to make jokes to cheer up, even though it often doesn't even work. (´Д｀。) I get angry easily, but most of the time I try to hide it. I'm the type who gets anxious easily, and I usually feel the need to talk to someone about what I'm doing in the moment or something that's already happened to me [mostly with my sister, lmao]. I could say that actually I alternate my moments of shyness with those in which I don't stop talking [or writing]. And to be honest I have a lot of hobbies!, like writing, drawing, reading, listen to music... anyway! Some of my friends told me I am also the curious type because everytime they are talking about something that I don't know I always adk them what the conversation is about. Also when we are talking about some strange machine I have never seen in my life I use to ask how does it works. Sometimes, however, I think I'm a little too curious for my good, but I don't really care a lot. I would also like to go and visit some interesting cities, to get to know a little about the main culture of the place and something similar. I don't mind trying something different.

Think that's all, take your time! Thanks.

ᴍᴀᴛᴄʜᴜᴘ ꜰᴏʀ ꜰᴏxɴɪᴋᴋɪ!

a/n: ur blog is soso cute! also tell me what emoji you'd like for ur moot tag <3

he thinks ur the cutest thing ever

he's so excited when you begin opening up to him

because of how he is, tendo is often the center of attention, leading you to occasionally also be in the spotlight. but if you ever get uncomfortable he's sure to aide with that

always laughs at ur jokes (u better laugh at his too)

always up to hear you ramble and rant

ya'll are always up in everyone's busy, cos tendo's nosy and ur just curious to what u guys will find out

always dangling his limbs all over you

loves getting a bunch of sweets from the convenience store for you guys to share

always bragging about u 😚

#𐀔 // elle writes !#hq #haikyuu #haikyuu matchups #hq matchups #satori tendo #tendo satori

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i-promise-i-am-not-on-drugs · 4 months ago

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So I saw this post

And I thought it was fucking adorable, so I decided to make some myself! :3

Here's the party! (+ El and Max, 'cause I love them)

I have some silly headcanons to explain some of the design choices if you're curious! The little pins are also just my headcanons about the characters, don't take them too seriously. :)

Mike) He has a lot of hair, so El gave him some hair clips to keep them out of his face! The shirt he's wearing says "dumbass ↑". Will gave it to him as a joke, and Mike surprisingly (not really) loved it and wear it as much as he can. The books are some DND campaigns that he kept after the party's past games.

Will) He has lots of bandages because he keeps hitting his face in the drawers's doors, as he's not used to his recent growth spurt yet. The bandages are colorful because Joyce brought them with Eleven, and she likes the colors. Will has a knife. Because his gun isn't really discreet. Don't mess with him, he will stab you.

Lucas) He like to look though on the outside, but the impression will immediately be broken if he takes his shoes off. Erica put one of her pink hoodie in the washing machine with his clothes, and his white socks are now baby pink. He has golden retriever energy, so I gave him one! His shirt says "don't mess with my wife", he found it while hanging out at the store with Dustin, and they bought the same one! Lucas's shirt is obviously referring to Max. :)

Dustin) Just like Lucas, Dustin shirt says "don't mess with my wife", and it's referring to Suzie! Also, Dustin found a chicken. He's not sure what he should do with it, but it looks cute and funny, so he kept it.

Eleven/Jane) She found her pretty overalls while she was hanging out with Max in the store, and Max bought it for her! It's now her favorite piece of clothing, and she wears it as much as she can. Her bow was made by Will, he gave it to her because her hair was getting long again. And El also has a knife. Be aware, she's not scared to use it.

Max) A bit after she bought El her overalls, she saw the pretty choker necklace she's wearing. Eleven might or might not have “borrow it" with her powers as a payback... But you didn't hear that from me. Now that she woke up from her coma, she has some trouble getting used to move around, so she has some mobility aids!

And that's all! I absolutely love them all, they're just so adorable. I might make some more later! ^^

Here's the link to the little guy maker, if you want to make your own tinny chibis! :)

#little guy maker #mike wheeler #will byers #lucas sinclair #dustin henderson #eleven hopper #max mayfield #the party #stranger things #headcanon #they're so cute i love them #silly little guys

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macwantspeace · 10 months ago

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Years ago, I noticed the machines come in. I told myself I was a very smart guy. Ha. I never succeeded in doing a single checkout. Flashing lights and Wait for the clerk. Since then I got hearing aids. Got cataracts removed. I would rather stand in line at the single register with a clerk.

#self checkout

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steviewashere · 11 months ago

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And For Christmas I'll Just Miss You

(also on ao3)

CW: Grief/Morning, Loss of a Parent

wc: 1,751 Steddie, Steve Harrington & His Parents Tags: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Comfort is Mild But There, Christmas, Grief around Holidays, Steve Harrington Needs a Hug and Gets One, Eddie Munson is a Sweetheart, Pet Names, Forehead Kisses, Bittersweet Ending

-------- There’s always something new to discover within Steve’s fresh, untethered, loose stitched grief. It’s not something he’s talked about, not really. Hasn’t wanted to really mention any of it. Not to anybody. But it has to come out sooner or later, right? That’s what he suspects.

He should just say, in summarized terms with no beating around the bush, “My mom died this year and now I just feel…weird.” Because that’s the truth. He does. This happened. He’s not sure how to confront it.

It came as a surprise. Of course it did. His mom was young, will forever be young if he sits down to think about it. She had been mostly healthy. It was just out of the blue. Turn for the worst kind of situation. Well, if he had asked his dad, he’d know about her history with blood clots—maybe he should’ve. Maybe. But that felt too personal, even if she was his mom, that feels intimate enough. Maybe it’s just something he was never supposed to know. Some part to her mask, her facade that she had to keep up with.

But if only Steve had stopped to ask…

Who is he kidding? It wouldn’t have stopped anything. Nothing would’ve changed.

She still would’ve had a heart attack in her bedroom. His dad still would’ve found her when coming out of the bathroom—pajamas and no shoes and half of a mustache—and yelled out in panic and terror. And Steve would’ve come careening into the bedroom; a sight in which he never would’ve chosen to wander in on. He won’t give the gruesome details. But he’ll remember her hand on her chest and her glazed eyes and…his brain forces him to stop there.

It was June of this year, 1987, that she died. Her funeral happened. He attended. He embraced his dad. They made their way like family, but over the last few months came to each other’s aid as mere acquaintances. Sometimes they cry the same. Sometimes Steve busies himself. Sometimes his dad refuses to talk, (that one is especially weird. His dad is a businessman. He loves to hear himself talk. He loves interactions with people).

Steve finds himself holding a blanket she used once. Clutching it in his grip. Laying it out on the washing machine. And turning out of the room to find a different chore to do. He drinks a cup of coffee, but realizes the mug was his mom’s. Pours out the liquid. Scrubs at it fervently, but misses the stain where her lipstick is. He leaves the perfume-y portion of department stores, his nose able to single out the one his mom wore.

Grief finds him leaving. It finds him running. It finds him stilted and confused. It finds him incomplete.

And it tracks him down with heavy hands as Christmas comes creeping around the corner.

Christmas is his family’s favorite holiday. They usually wake up bright and early. Keep the lights dim. Light some firewood. Eat sugar soaked pancakes and drink hot coffee. Sit around the living room, pristinely wrapped gifts being handed out, and they watch one another open their presents. His dad goes first. Then, his mom. Steve is last, but always the most important. It’s one of the few times in a year he’s able to see his parents completely content and satiated. Is able to look his dad in the eyes and not be met with a furious glow or beet red skin or a disappointed pout to his lips. Can feel like a normal son with normal parents during a normal holiday.

This year, though, of course it’s going to be different. Has been different.

There aren’t any decorations up. His dad is out of town for some business conference, though he does call every night just to check-in. (Again, another odd thing. He never did that before, but if circumstances call for it, Steve’s willing to comply.) Steve has had no real energy to go shopping for gifts or make cookies or even write some simple cards.

He’s spent more time looking back at family photo albums and trying to remember his mom’s apple pie recipe than actually focusing on the upcoming holiday. And, apparently, he’s spent less time focusing on the people still alive and around him.

According to Robin, he’s been spacey at work. According to Dustin and the rest of the kids, he hasn’t been as urgent on answering the phone or remembering to pick them up and drop them off places. And according to Eddie, he’s been less touchy and more avoidant.

He sees them, sure. But now he just feels withdrawn. And it’s worse, now, with Christmas.

----

“So, obviously, I was thinking that you—Are you even listening to me?” Eddie asks him. They’re sitting near each other on the couch at the Munson’s. Some movie—It’s A Wonderful Life if Steve were to shrug off his shawl of grief and tune back in—playing. A million miles of space between them. And one mug of hot chocolate that’s rapidly cooled and is now sticking to the sides of the cup. Eddie’s long since gone.

Steve blinks. Coming back to himself. And finally remembers that he was supposed to be listening. But he can’t. The decorations in the room too distracting, too claustrophobic, too constricting. There’s a tree in the corner of the living room, decorated head to toe in bright colorful lights, filled with handmade and Hallmark ornaments, topped with a dainty little yellow star. A wreath above the television set. Stockings lining the wall behind the couch. He can’t focus. “Sorry,” he murmurs, “I—I totally spaced. I’m sorry.”

Eddie sighs. “What’s going on, babe? You’ve been like this for fucking weeks—no—months now. Are you not sleeping? Are you—Is it Vecna or something? Cause I can radio—“

“No!” Steve exclaims. He sighs himself. Whispers, “It’s nothing like that.” He falls into the back of the couch. Arms folded over his chest. Eyes glancing longingly at the tree, away from Eddie’s concerned gaze. He huffs. “I wish it was just that.”

He swallows. He knows he can admit right now what’s been going on. Knows that he could say the words, “My mom is dead. And this is the first Christmas without her,” and Eddie would immediately find a way to be comforting. But the words…God, the words just stick inside his throat like molasses and there’s no way to spring anything from his mouth. Wishes it was as simple as saying it. Wishes he didn’t feel so conflicted and complicated.

There’s a soft touch to his right shoulder. Eddie’s fingers tighten over the fabric of his sweater. He releases and just lets his hand linger. “Can’t you just tell me?” Eddie asks, voice tiny and careful. “I’m worried, baby.”

Steve shakes his head. Throat stinging. Eyes heavy and aching. He bites his lip and shakes his head, closes his eyes against the hazy glow of reds and greens and neon blues. And lets his head fall back to the curve of the couch, a small thump, hair ruffling underneath him. “It’s not that simple,” he chokes out. His voice is wet. And thick. And biting into his skin.

“Well, then help me understand. Help me help you.”

And Steve looks over. His own eyes half-lidded. To see Eddie’s earnest ones. So deep and enriching and mesmerizing. So willing to take a gander. To just sit and listen to him talk.

He takes a breath and then a few more.

If anybody is to understand Steve, it would be Eddie. All the stories he’s heard of Mrs. Munson. Of her dancing and her music and her cooking. Her eyes and her soft hands. Her singing voice and her goofy jokes. Her and just her and how she took Eddie’s soul between her hands and molded what he would end up being.

“My—“ Steve clears his throat around the lump of mucus buildup. “I’m—I’m not celebrating Christmas this year,” he admits quietly. Eddie grips to Steve’s shoulder just a little tighter, but he nods. “It just won’t make sense to. My—My mom died earlier this year,” he practically whispers. “It’s my family’s favorite holiday. And she’ll be gone from it. I just feel weird.”

Eddie’s eyes are probably Steve’s favorite part of his face. He doesn’t hide a single thing he feels. So empathetic, down to the core of his being, Steve can almost taste the emotion he’s radiating. Eyes going from earnest and asking to sad and disheartened. “Oh, sweetheart,” he breathes. “Sweetheart, I’m so sorry.” His other hand comes up into Steve’s field of view. “Can I—Is it okay to hug you?”

Without saying anything, Steve nods. Eddie pulls him in close and tight. Wrapping his arms over Steve’s shuttering back. Tucks his head into the crook of his shoulder. And lets Steve sob, choke, cough onto his skin.

He runs fingers through Steve’s hair. Over his spine. Doesn’t say anything, yet. Doesn’t hush him. Doesn’t let him stray too far, though.

Against the shell of Steve’s ear, Eddie softly states, “I know, baby. I know how you feel. I’m so sorry.” Steve just nods against his shoulder. Tightening his own grip around Eddie’s lithe torso. Collapsing down into exhaustion faster than he’s been able to attempt in the last several months.

The last of the tears drip down from his chin. And he hiccups. He breathes with a rasp. He shakes still in Eddie’s hold. “This sucks,” he whispers. “And my hot chocolate is cold.” He huffs against the side of Eddie’s neck.

A hand is running soothingly up and down his back. “I’ll heat it back up, don’t worry.” Eddie pulls him out of his hiding. Holding his face between his hands. Runs his calloused thumbs over Steve’s red, splotchy cheeks. Kisses him on the forehead with the lightest of pecks. “What else can I do for you right now?”

“Can you—“ He looks out to the TV. To the blue screen. To the end of the tape. And though, maybe, it doesn’t feel like Christmas at all, he’ll let Eddie wrap the twinkling lights around his grief. And even if it doesn’t feel all that merry, and maybe the themes are too on the nose, It’s a Wonderful Life is calling his name. “Can you start the movie over and just—Just hold me?”

Eddie kisses his forehead again. “Always, Stevie. Always.”

-------- <3

#stranger things #fanfiction #steddie #Steve Harrington & his parents #steve harrington #eddie munson #christmas #grief #Grief around holidays #angst and hurt/comfort #mild comfort

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female-malice · 1 year ago

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What Hamas Wants

First, there is Hamas’s notorious charter, a Frankensteinian amalgam of the worst anti-Semitic conspiracy theories of the modern era—the very same that have motivated numerous white-supremacist attacks in the United States. “Our struggle against the Jews is very great and very serious,” the document opens. “It needs all sincere efforts … until the enemy is vanquished.” The charter goes on to claim that the Jews control “the world media, news agencies, the press, publishing houses, broadcasting stations, and others.” According to Hamas, the Jews were “behind the French Revolution, the Communist revolution and most of the revolutions we heard and hear about,” as well as World War I and World War II. The charter accuses Israel of seeking to take over the entire world, and cites as proof the most influential modern anti-Semitic text, The Protocols of the Elders of Zion, a Russian fabrication that purports to expose a global Jewish cabal.

“Israel will exist and will continue to exist until Islam will obliterate it,” Hamas declares in its credo. “The Day of Judgement will not come about until Muslims fight the Jews.” In case anyone missed the point, the document adds that “so-called peaceful solutions and international conferences are in contradiction to the principles of the Islamic Resistance Movement.” In 2017, Hamas published a new charter, but pointedly refused to disavow the original one, in a transparent ruse that some respectable observers nonetheless took at face value.

In any case, Hamas communicated its genocidal intentions not just in words, but in deeds. Before it took control of Gaza, the group deliberately targeted Jewish civilians for mass murder, executing scores of suicide bombings against shopping malls, night clubs, restaurants, buses, Passover seders, and many other nonmilitary targets. Today, this killing spree is widely blamed for destroying the credibility of the Israeli peace movement and helping derail the Oslo Accords, precisely as Hamas intended. And it did not stop there. Since the group took power in Gaza, it has launched thousands of rockets indiscriminately at nearby civilian towns—attacks that continue at this very moment and that have boosted the Israeli right in election after election.

Hamas’s anti-Jewish aspirations were evident not only from its treatment of Israelis, but from its treatment of fellow Palestinians. Despite being the putative sovereign in Gaza and responsible for the well-being of its people, Hamas repeatedly cannibalized Gaza’s infrastructure and appropriated international aid to fuel its messianic war machine. The group boasted publicly about digging up Gaza’s pipes and turning them into rockets. It stored weapons in United Nations schools and dug attack tunnels underneath them. (Contrary to what you might have read on social media, Gaza does have underground shelters—they are just used for housing Hamas fighters, smuggling operations, and weapons caches, not protecting civilians.)

When dissenting Gazans attempted to protest this state of affairs and demanded a better future, they were brutally repressed. Hamas has not held elections since 2006. In 2020, when the Gazan peace activist Rami Aman held a two-hour Zoom call with Israeli leftists, Hamas threw him in prison for six months, tortured him, and forced him to divorce his wife. Why? Because his vision of a shared society for Arabs and Jews, however remote, was a threat to the group’s entire worldview. Jews were not to share the land; they were to be cleansed from it.

Simply put, what Hamas did two weekends ago was not a departure from its past, but the natural culmination of its commitments. The question is not why Hamas did what it did, but why so many people were surprised. Israel’s prime minister, Benjamin Netanyahu, quick to discern anti-Semitism in any effort to merely label Israeli products from West Bank settlements, somehow overlooked the severity of the genocidal threat growing next door. Journalists like me who cover anti-Semitism somehow failed to take Hamas’s overt anti-Jewish ethos as seriously as we should have. Many international leftists, ostensibly committed to equality and dignity for Palestinians and Israelis alike, somehow missed that Hamas did not share that vision, and in fact was actively working to obliterate it.

Today, in the ashes of the worst anti-Jewish violence since the Holocaust, some analysts have admitted their error of sanitizing Hamas. “It’s a huge mistake that I did, believing that a terror organization can change its DNA,” the former Netanyahu national-security adviser Yaakov Amidror told The New York Times. Others on the left have clung to their tortured conception of Hamas as a rational resistance group, despite it having been falsified by events. Perhaps some fear that acknowledging the true nature of Hamas would undermine the struggle for Palestinian self-determination. But in actuality, it is the refusal to disentangle Hamas’s anti-Jewish sadism from the legitimate cause of Palestinian nationalism that threatens the project and saps its support.

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cloudyswritings · 11 months ago

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Rainy days

Okay hear me out, Hollow knight characters as Rainworld Iterators and Echoes.

The Hallownest local group:

Roots grown through Mountains: The White Lady, has an impressive set of biology labs and genetics research facilities in her can. Notably took a nurturing role towards the rest of the iterators in the local group. Is the second oldest of their bunch. Puppet colors pale white and pale blue. Her eyes have been described as looking into crystals.

Radiant at Dawn: Everyone’s favorite angry moth goddess. Has created a specific radio frequency that propagates via wildlife and secondary systems in hopes of reaching the other iterators in the local group. Her communications array was damaged, even largely destroyed by the construction of 6 Hallowed Chains. Her errant signal manifests as static feedback in machines and the infection in wildlife. Puppet colors are gold and white with a black mask pattern around the eyes.

6 Hallowed Chains: THK, our Hollow Knight. The last iterator of the local group to be created, is far smaller than the others due to dwindling resources and a general lack of water sources. Is almost completely overrun by Radiants signal- has intentionally damaged much of their superstructure to prevent any further signal propagation, although how long that will last is anyone’s guess. Had the mildest rains locally before getting infected, and thus hosted a proper rainforest.

Beyond the Pale Horizon: The pale king, and the largest of the local group iterators. His can was built disproportionately to the others because he was host to a sect of ancients who were particularly pompous(and racist) and believed they were undoubtedly superior to the rest. Often teasingly gets called a water hog by the rest of his group, but actually takes steps to minimize his intake as much as possible. has recently been getting up to some shady experiments with void fluid. Has the most impressive engineering facilities of any iterator globally and makes good use of them. Has also partially found a way around the self modification taboo and has completely rearranged the inside of his can(and filled it with buzzsaws). Is working on a solution to Radiants plague and is hopeful he’ll find a way to repair the damage done to Hallow. Puppet color is a shade of absolutely blinding white, his hands appear stained golden however…

Dreams of Greener days: Unn, a master botanist and the undisputed oldest of the Local group. Is nominally their leader and group admin, however no one has heard from her in thousands of cycles. It’s assumed her communications array is offline or she suffered otherwise catastrophic damage. This isn’t right however and her reasons for maintaining silence are unknown but justified. She’s a first generation iterator and functions at a significantly slower processing speed than the others. Puppet colors: Green, brown, and mint, has much longer antenna than the others and speaks very slowly. She sounds half asleep.

Just outside the Local group we have

Hexagonal perfection: Vespa, her name is a play on Hexagons being a structurally efficient shape. Her name is a very hilarious pun in the language of the Ancients. She’s perfected modifying her observers to fulfill a variety of different functions that vastly aided her with the upkeep of her superstructure. As a result she is effectively the most well preserved iterator on the continent. Puppet colors are brown, honey gold, and navy blue. She has a cape of fabric with a see through hexagon pattern.

Beastly Desires: Herrah, her can was built far further into the ground than any other iterator, taking advantage of a large aquifer for power. Her systems are subject to periodic flooding and she was designed to handle it. Makes carvings and elaborate tapestries as a hobby. Her superstructure was originally designed as a research station for the void and void fluid and was only later converted into an iterator when the project was abandoned. As a result she has vast stores of knowledge on how the void actually works and has the facilities to continue the research. Beyond the Pale Horizon has asked for her to share her findings repeatedly and she always refuses. Puppet colors: soft orange, brown, and dark purple.

Ghosts we Knew: Little Ghost, built on the very outskirts of possible communications for the group they serve as a sort of relay point for sharing iterator news across the continent. Is planning to help their best friend 6 Hallowed chains through any means necessary. Has a truly immense data storage capacity and documents anything and everything near there can just to fill it up. Has an interest in cartography. Because of their placement they actually have contact with 7 Red Suns and through him Moons group. Overall the concerned mom friend of both groups. Sent a messenger to the local group to assist if possible. Puppet colors: Black, blue grey, and pale white.

1 Pale Thread: Hornet, among the younger generation of iterators and has chosen Beastly Desires as her role model. Is built to the south of Ghosts we Knew and relies on their strangely good advice often. Is highly dedicated to solving the great problem and has terrible work life balance. She’s killed several messengers coming from Beyond the Pale Horizon for a slight neither of them really remember, it’s mostly become a habit for her. Puppet colors, red and pale white, has a ceremonial weapon/musical instrument given to her by the leader of her city before ascending, it’s called a needle.

Echoes:

Dancing by firelight among Grim melodies: Obviously Grimm, was an ancient who was forced to ascend against his will, he became an echo as a result. He was once a famous performer and travel the world. Due to his refusal to let go of any of his desires he is much closer to the material world than other echoes and can move freely. Is currently attempting to posses the Iterator 10 Fleeting Sparks for unknown reasons. Largely ignorant of the events playing out in the Local group.

32 Lost minds atop drifting ashes: Bardoon, just a sad little fellow with a fantastic view of Beyond the Pale Horizons can. Fond of napping and creating sad poems, has recently talked to a messenger about the state of the plague and “minds lost to light”. Feels himself to be burned with duty and repentance. Was one of the chief engineers for Beyond the Pale Horizon

Mushrooms growing atop kingdoms of mushrooms: Mister Mushroom, is either completely insane or directly in contact with other universes through ascension. Was pretty much the same before ascending honestly. I’m not sure he’s even noticed the difference.

10,000 masks made for the worthy: Mask maker, changes their name with every new mask they make. Is stuck by Beastly Desires can and drives her mad with his ramblings. Still has a visible face and tangible arms, is constantly crafting masks and ranting about the nature of reality. Knows far more than they let on. Don’t ask him directly though…

#hollow knight #rain world #iterator #rain world iterator #hk thk #hk vessels #hk pale king #fusion #headcanon #Echoes #fucked up little guy #hk radiance

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