#I needed an increase in my lenses

[thats-how-i-like-it]

I just got one of my wisdom teeth removed 👍 (and I got my new glasses!!)

[collecting--stardust]

TIL that my right eye had gone haywire and shit

[0o-junebug-o0]

First Meeting

summary: You're having difficulty with some code so you stop by Penelope's house for help, unaware that she has a guest. Spencer takes one look at you and is immediately head over heels.

genre: fluff

cw: meet cute (is it a meet cute?) completely gn!reader (reader is not described at all), no use of y/n, autistic!spencer (because every spencer is autistic!spencer), season 1 spencer, university/college student reader, talk about research and coding, pov switch from reader to spencer

wordcount: 1.5k

a/n: this is an actual error I had this summer when writing my spectra analysis code

You lean back in your chair with a sigh, scowling at the code you’re trying to write. You’re still relatively new to coding, the first time you ever took a class on it was just under two years ago, so this code has taken you significantly more time to write than it would have taken Penelope. But you’ve written it. You read through the code again and rerun it. Everything runs fine, the code should work, but it doesn’t. 

You rub your eyes and groan with frustration. You should be able to get a wavelength solution out of this. The professor you’re doing research with told you what you need to do to get the wavelength solution and then how to use it to find the redshift of the lensed galaxy and the foreground lensing galaxy, but nothing is lining up!

You’ve opened the data, plotted the variation in flux for each line in the image, fit a Gaussian to it to get the brightest point, and converted the pixel value of that point to vacuum wavelength, but none of the wavelengths you’re finding match up with what lines should be present in the spectra for this lamp type!

You briefly consider emailing your professor but decide against it. Even though he told you that asking him things wouldn’t bother him and that it’s his job, you don’t want to take up more of his time than you already have. 

You look around your apartment for anything that might help. Your eyes land on your keychain and the spare key Penelope gave you because she enjoys it when you stop by. You quickly shut your laptop, tucking it under your arm, grab your keys, slip on a pair of shoes, and make your way down the hall to Penelope’s apartment, not bothering to lock the door behind you. 

_____

Spencer sits awkwardly on one of Garcia’s kitchen stools, tapping his fingers on the Tardis mug she had filled with tea and given him. He’s not exactly sure why Garcia invited him over. She said she wanted to bond, but they’ve known each other for almost two years now, and Spencer considers her a good friend, so he doesn’t really know what bonding entails. So far, Garcia has just been bustling around her kitchen preparing snacks and drinks for their Doctor Who marathon.

The lock clicks and Spencer’s head whips toward the door just in time for it to burst open. Spencer freezes and stares at you in awe and confusion. 

“Penny!” you cry, your voice a mixture of a shout and a whine. 

Garcia calls your name with a surprised look. “What happened? Are you alright?”

“What?” you ask. Then you wave your hand flippantly. “Yeah I’m fine, I just need help with some code.” Your eyes land on Spencer and he can feel his heart rate increase. He really hopes his face isn’t as red as it feels. 

“Oh, sorry, I didn’t know you had someone over,” you say. “I can, um, I can come back later.”

Spencer watches as your posture stiffens slightly and you start to fiddle with your keychain. 

Spencer opens his mouth to reassure you but Garcia beats him to it. “No, no, it’s fine,” she says. “I’ve been wanting you two to meet anyway.” You shoot Spencer a small, awkward smile and wave from across the room when Garcia shares your name. When she introduces him, your eyes widen and you look toward Garcia with an expression Spencer can’t decipher and mouth something to her that makes her laugh loudly. 

Spencer can feel himself flushing at your reaction and takes a sip of his tea to hide his face.

“Anyway!” Garcia says cheerfully. “Do you mind if I help them real quick?”

“Go ahead,” Spencer responds, trying to sound as nonchalant as possible. It’s difficult with you there, though, all his thoughts suddenly seem much harder to grasp. Like your presence is forcing them aside. 

Your eyes seem to linger on him for a moment before you head over to the counter and set your laptop down. “Right,” you mutter, opening it and entering the password. Spencer listens intently as you describe to Garcia what your code should be doing and he can’t help but smile at the clear passion in your voice. It sends butterflies to his stomach. 

“What do you study?” Spencer blurts out. 

You close your mouth and cock your head at him for a moment. “I’m, uh, I’m studying astrophysics. Specifically strong gravitational lensing. I’ve already made preliminary models of the system and I’m just working on analyzing the spectra now.”

Spencer nods and leans over to look at your code. 

“Do you want to help Penny find the issue?” you ask. You sound a bit nervous and Spencer looks up and smiles what he hopes is a soothing smile.

“I would if I could. I really don’t know how to code, though.”

“Seriously?” you ask. Spencer cocks his head at the tone of surprise in your voice. “Sorry, it’s just that Penny has told me a lot about you and about how you’re a genius and have three PhDs, which is insanely impressive by the way, so I guess I’m just surprised you don’t know something.”

“There’s a lot I don’t know,” Spencer admits. “Coding and other technological things are some of it. I don’t know too much about astrophysics either.” That’s not exactly true but it isn’t a lie either. He’s read papers on several astrophysical topics but he’s never come across one on strong lensing before. But the truth of the statement is irrelevant, the only reason he said it was to find an excuse to spend more time with you.

You smile and Spencer’s stomach feels like it does a backflip. “I won’t be much help teaching you how to code, Penny would be better for that, but I can tell you about some astro stuff at some point.”

“Alright, lovebirds,” Garcia teases and Spencer’s face burns. “Let’s focus.” You nod, clearly also a bit embarrassed, and turn back to your laptop.

“How about I go line by line and tell you what it should do and you let me know if something doesn’t do what I think it does,” you say. Garcia nods and both she and Spencer follow along as you point to and describe each line of code. You get to a printed image of the data file you’re analyzing before Garcia stops you.

“Can you open the file on your computer?” she asks.

You nod and open the file in a new application and move it so it’s side by side with the image in your code. “Wait,” you mutter, glancing back and forth between the two images. “Is that seriously the issue?” Spencer leans forward to get a closer look, the x-axes of the images are flipped. 

You throw your head back with a groan and change the rotation of the file in your code. “I swear, if this works,” you growl. The clear exasperation in your tone makes Spencer chuckle slightly. 

You rerun the code and compare several of the outputs to a list of wavelengths before groaning again and letting your head fall onto the counter. “I hate Python,” you grumble. “Why does it have to switch the axes!” 

Garcia laughs and pats you on the back. You raise your head off the counter and tap your forehead against her shoulder in a gesture Spencer assumes expresses gratitude. “Thanks, Penny,” you sigh. “You’re the best.”

“Of course I am!”

“Oh, and Spencer,” you say, turning to look at him. “We should get lunch sometime. I can tell you about astrophysics and you can tell me about all the crazy things you know.”

“I-I would love that,” Spencer stutters, unable to speak clearly with you looking into his eyes. He's hardly able to wrap his head around the fact that someone as beautiful as you would want to spend more time with him. Spencer's not sure whether you’re asking him on a date or just to go out as friends, but he doesn’t care either way as long as he gets to spend more time with you.

“Great!” you say happily. You stand and cross the room to quickly grab one of Garcia’s pens before returning. You hold the fluffy pink pen with a smile on your face and hold out your hand for his. “May I?” you ask. 

Spencer’s eyes widen and he nods, setting his hand in yours despite his usual aversion to touch. The contact makes his heart feel like it’s about to burst from his chest. You scrawl your number across the back of his hand before handing Spencer the pen and holding out your hand for him to do the same. He writes his number on your hand and watches in a sort of daze as you gather your computer and keys and wave goodbye before leaving.

Spencer jumps slightly as Garcia ruffles his hair. He looks over at her to see a knowing smile on her face. Spencer blushes and hides his face in his hands. “Shut up,” he grumbles, embarrassed.

“No way,” she laughs. “Derek’s going to have a field day with this. Boy genius has a crush!”

_____

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[ms-demeanor]

So I have vision insurance again which means I was able to go to the optometrist and get glasses through insurance for the first time in 11 years (instead of paying out of pocket and getting glasses from zenni) and here are my notes:

It's *NOT GREAT* that Luxotica is mentioned by name on the insurance card printout

I know everything got more expensive in the last ten years, but frames also got a lot more expensive and for some reason there was a huge gap in prices - my insurance covered $130 for frames and the office had a bunch of frames for $70 and a bunch of frames for $150 but basically no frames between those two price points.

When you say "I can't afford to go over the allowance" on XYZ thing they are not even *considering* the cost of progressive bifocals. So I was like "no coating, cheap frames, no extras" and then they were like "okay so the progressive bifocal is going to be over a hundred dollars more" and I was like "how much is the bifocal with a line" and they were like "oh that's only $15 but we don't consider that appropriate for your age, we recommend this other kind of lens" and it doesn't matter what you consider age appropriate for me, I can't afford that so we're not doing that.

The seventy dollar frames are all kind of trash. Super thin, super bendy, and not in a good "flexible fit" way but more in a "if you fall asleep in these you will wake up with broken glasses" way.

They wrote down my reading prescription wrong? For the last ten years I've been slowly creeping up from +.25 to my current +2.50; they told me it had increased but the printout said +.75 so either my prescription has been wrong for a while or they missed the 2 at the front of that number and my glasses are going to show up with a low magnification. (I noticed after I'd left the office but before the glasses arrived).

Given all of that, with insurance: $25 for a pair of glasses, which included the office copay.

So then of course I went to zenni and ordered glasses anyway because I've been wearing the same frame design for seven years and want another pair that look exactly like that.

Progressive bifocals WERE the most expensive part of the order, and because my prescription is stronger they are getting progressively more expensive - initially the upgrade to bifocal cost something like $30 for a lower magnification, now they're $85 for the stronger prescription.

And that's it, that's the expensive part. Fifteen dollar frames, five dollar anti-reflective coating, total for bifocals was around a hundred dollars; I got a pair of single-vision sunglasses for under $20.

Part of the reason I decided to spend more at zenni than at my optometrist's office was because I was able to get good, sturdy frames that I know fit my face and will survive mosh pits and me falling asleep on them without cracking. In order to get the same thing at the optometrist's office I would have had to pay thirty dollars more for lenses as well as forty more for frames so I would have walked out of there paying more for a pair of glasses with frames that I wasn't super excited about (there was a pair that was *okay* but not great that were similar in construction to my current frames but more bulky and square) than I did for glasses that I know I like and a pair of sunglasses.

I did end up paying less out of pocket for the visit than I would have without the insurance, and $15 for a pair of back-up glasses isn't bad. But it was all-in-all a frustrating experience.

However: I've been wearing the same pair of glasses for three years and the anti-reflective coating is worn away in some places and they're so scratched that they're impossible to actually clean in some places and large bastard looked through them last week and was like "OH! No wonder you can't tell when you need to clean your windshield! You don't get to drive at night until those are replaced" so no matter what glasses I'm wearing next week they're going to be an improvement.

[blackiron11]

Be careful what you wish for

Pairing: reader x rio vidal

Trigger warning: body shamming, self harm, suicide attempt, hate self (if you find more, pls let me know)

English is not my first language, etc etc etc. I don't know how to write romance very well either, but I tried. besides, I'm sure I exaggerated the amount of "you" written. I hope you like the story

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

You are tired of the daily humiliations and an unhappy life, you want to die. Luckily, a certain Lady Death has a few things to say about your life.

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

You come home tired every day. Tired of the humiliations at work, of having to report every mistake made by employees, of your boss yelling at you, all for a mere minimum wage.

You even asked for a salary increase, but he laughed in your face. A promotion would mean that you would have to present yourself to the shareholders and he couldn't allow that, you know why; to get ahead in life, you need to have the right weight and the right face. You don't have that. You know it, your parents know it and your boss knows it, because he looks you up and down, while denying all your dreams.

"But you are a good employee, who knows next year?" he says before you leave. You feel the humiliation run through your veins.

Yes, next year. If your size "L" becomes "XS", if you put on contact lenses and don't wear glasses, if you do facial harmonization. Yes, you have a chance.

Your colleagues don't like you either. They focus on your appearance and the fact that you're too shy and introverted. They've never invited you to Happy Hour after work, or to one of their birthdays either; you don't like drinking, but you've always wanted to fit in.

You decide you don't care. But the truth is that you care so much that it's hurt so bad, and you need to do something to stop this pain.

You also get tired of your parents asking for money or wanting to get a boyfriend to you, never asking how you are or coming to visit you. You get tired of not having friends, or anyone to lean on. You get tired of life.

You sigh as you change your clothes. You always wear long-sleeved shirts and jeans. You don't want anyone to see how ugly you are... inside and out.

You look at yourself in the mirror, only in your underwear. You analyze the cuts on your skin, everywhere you can reach, you made a lot of cuts, especially on your arms and thighs; some are older, most are recent, leaving blood stains on the clothes you wore.

Your reflection stares back at you, looking amused. You hug yourself, trying to hide from your own gaze, but to no avail. You feel dirty, your sagging skin falling apart in tour hands.

In a world where there are Avengers, supreme wizards, witches, heroes and villains, you feel like nothing. You are nobody.

With no desire at all, you take a shower, using a sponge forcefully on your body, as if that would wash away all the extra pounds. Your hard movement causes the fresh cuts to reopen and you see blood going down the drain along with the soap and water. You are numb.

You remember the ways to calm down your therapist taught you, but they don't work. They never did.

When you see your sleeping pills, you decide that this suffering is no longer worth it. You are not worth it. This will be the first and last time you put yourself first.

You won't leave any letters or explanations, it's not necessary. No one will miss you.

You gather all the medicines you can find and put them in the blender along with the alcohol, there's no going back. You know won't be, you don't want to go back.

No amount of stomach pumping will solve it, in case some gossipy neighbor decides to help you. You've made sure of that.

You need peace. If what's necessary for that is for you to face death, you'll do it with a smile on your face.

You put on the first pajamas you find and drink the entire contents of the glass, grimacing and choking as the liquid burns your throat.

Finally, you lie down on your bed one last time, ready for a dreamless sleep, and then, never to wake up again.

-----------

You opened your eyes, still groggy, and found a vision. A woman in a black robe stared at you. You just thought she was beautiful.

Y/N doesn't believe in God; But if there is an afterlife, you always thought you would be punished for killing yourself. At the very least, you are at the Valley of Suicides, and would suffer in mourning for ages. Either that, or you would go to hell.

However, looking at this woman in front of you, you thought you were in paradise.

The figure softened her expression, smiling a little bit, as if she had heard your thoughts, but soon closed herself off.

"Why did you do that?" she asked you, worried.

Y/N couldn't understand where she was or who that woman was... Maybe she was a neighbor? She thinks she's never seen you in her life, but her vision betrays you, completely blurred.

"I didn't mean to," you answered automatically, not used to someone talking to you for more than five minutes.

The woman didn't believe you. Rio saw your arms and the scarred cuts, but chose not to comment; she didn't want to scare you.

It wasn't the first time Rio had been called to a death by suicide and it certainly wouldn't be the last, but you were intriguing. Usually the others had someone by their side, but you were alone. She didn't want to leave you like this, not when you looked so fragile.

"Who are you?" Your conscience was leaving you, but you wanted to understand.

"I'm Lady Death , my dear." Rio approached you. "I'm here, because you called me."

Was that supposed to make sense? No coherent thought was going through your mind, the various medicines you had swallowed doing their job.

"Am I still alive?" You asked rhetorically, before your body shut down from the pressure.

Rio sighed, wondering where she had gotten herself into.

As the natural order of all things, she could simply heal you and leave, but that wouldn't solve anything. Death can't heal someone's psyche; and once your senses returned, you would try to kill yourself again. Rio couldn't let that happen. She would help you, even if it meant saving you from yourself.

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

For weeks, Rio healed your stomach and your injuries a little at a time, and you were getting better, with no more risk of complications because of it in the future.

She would make you food, wake you up and help you to eat, staying with you until you fell asleep again, your body still very weak.

She started to notice you more, how you slept peacefully, the dimples that formed on your face when you smiled, or how your eyes looked at her curiously, even though you couldn't hold a coherent conversation for long.

You don't remember any of this. Your consciousness came and gone the whole time.

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

Until one day, you woke up completely lucid. On autopilot, you went to get ready for work and saw yourself in the mirror. You were horrified when you remembered...

You...were alive? You're not even good enough to kill yourself, my God! How is that possible?

You wanted to scream, throw yourself off the building, hit your head hard against the wall until blood came out, anything. You were confused, your mind was all jumbled up. You had planned everything!! Did someone save you??? Why would someone do this?

You were going to puke. You ran to the bathroom, trying to hold on to the walls, shaking. You needed to calm down. You needed to understand what was happening.

The easiest thing to calm you down was your old friend; but when you made the first cut, you noticed that all the others were missing.

No. No. NO!

This can't be happening. It's a nightmare, right? A medication-induced nightmare. Soon it will all pass and you will be dead. Just as it should be.

Meanwhile, you made all the cuts you could, your hand shaking more and more. It didn't work, you hadn't calmed down.

You got up with unsteady steps and went to the kitchen, looking for a knife. You couldn't find one. You also didn't notice the presence behind you, until she spoke to you, her tone mild.

"You need to stop this, Y/N."

Rio was collecting some bodies from the other side of the world, when she felt a tug towards you. You needed her. She hoped it wasn't too late.

"Leave me alone," you shouted, feeling your eyes water. Rio tried to get closer to you, but you backed away. It took you a while to remember who she was, but the clothes she was wearing helped. Death... you almost didn't believe it. You felt betrayed. The only being you thought would truly welcome you with open arms took everything you had; including your reminders.

"You... You saved me," you accused her. Rio had the decency to look guilty. "You took away my free will, you healed me without my permission! You hurt me more than anyone else, you took everything I had." Y/N cried freely now. Tears blurred her vision.

Rio knew what you were talking about. It hurt her that you felt that way. She never wanted to hurt you, only to help you. Lady Death wished she had permission to kill everyone who hurt you throughout your life.

"You don't need them, Y/N." Rio still spoke softly, you could barely hear her.

"Why do you care?"

"I... I fell in love with you." Rio admitted what she had been thinking for days. At some point while taking care of you, she fell in love. Death had never loved anyone before.

Y/N stared at her, motionless. Then, she laughed.

"Is this some kind of joke?" she asked when she caught her breath. Rio shook her head. "Some kind of dirty game between the cosmic entities to attract the weak human's attention?" Rio shook her head once more.

"Seriously, look at me," you shouted, not understanding.

And Rio looked at you. Even with your face red from crying so much, even with the fresh cuts and so much self-loathing, Death found you beautiful.

"I'm looking at," Rio whispered. His heart heavy with your suffering.

"No!" Y/N thought Rio didn't understand. "Look at me!," you shouted with contempt this time. "How can someone like you fall for something like this?" you pointed to yourself.

Rio saw you, she understood you more than you remember. You talked a few times, even with the loose and incoherent words, Death heard you. And she was saddened by every word you said. With the self-loathing that society forced upon you at every step of your life.

Vidal didn't know how to calm you down, so she did the only thing that came to her mind at the moment. She ran to you, grabbed your face and kissed you on the mouth.

It was just a light brush of lips. Rio wanted to show you that she liked you, but you hadn't stopped talking. She wanted you to listen now.

"I see you, S/N" the woman in front of you tried to wipe away your tears, in vain. They kept coming freely. "I see you and I understand you" you found yourself relaxing your face towards the hand that caressed you. "I want to kill all those idiots who once hurt you, because you, Y/N Y/S, are an incredible woman. And not a "it thing", I am sure".

You wanted to complain, but Rio didn't let you. She wasn't finished.

"S/N, you're so sweet, so selfless, you have such a good heart" Rio continued. "Never believe anyone who tells you otherwise, because you are beautiful. Beautiful inside and out. Your life is worth living" by the look she gave you, you saw the truth in her eyes. She truly believed the words she said, even if you didn't. "I think you are the prettiest girl in the world, and The Death doesn't lies, sweetie".

Y/N couldn't answer, your body gave out and you passed out. Rio caught you before you fell and carried you to your bed.

"It's okay, my love" Rio whispered, kissing you on the forehead "I can be strong for both of us, until you make it"

-------

You woke up completely healed. Rio would leave you alone now, if you wish. It would break her heart, but she wanted you happy.

You didn't need to look around to know she was still there.

"Are you ever going to leave?" You stood up, sitting up.

"Only if you want to" Rio approached you, this time you didn't back away, but you didn't answer her.

With the physical healing, you began to remember the previous weeks and found yourself enjoying her presence; the moments you spent together. A smile escaped your lips and it did not go unnoticed by Rio.

"May I?" Vidal pointed to the space next to you and you nodded. You felt the bed sink with the new weight, and you looked down at your hands; you were suddenly embarrassed, very aware of yesterday's closeness.

"Thank you," you thanked, realizing that the cuts from yesterday were still present on your skin.

Rio nodded. "I apologize for before, I shouldn't have done that without your permission, if they were important to you."

Rio didn't apologize for saving your life. That, she didn't regret it for a second. She would do it again if she had to, but Rio really hoped it was the first and last time.

Y/N didn't answer, instead asking another question.

"Do you really like me?" You were afraid of the answer, both the "yes" and the "no."

"Yes, I do." That simple sentence made Y/N look into Vidal's soft eyes. You saw the same thing as yesterday: Unconditional love. You still.don't know how it's possible for Death to fall in love with someone like you, "And I want to be with you."

You opened your mouth, but quickly closed it. Everything that had happened to you flashed through your mind.

"The heart doesn't choose who it falls in love with, Y/N." Rio realized that you were afraid of getting hurt again, maybe it would be better to leave you alone.

"You don't have to answer, dear. I won't take up any more of your time." Death stood up, ready to leave and never see you again, if that was what you wanted.

"Wait..." you asked, your voice barely louder than a whisper, "stay." You grabbed her hand and squeezed it lightly.

Rio turned around and listened carefully.

"I... I like your company." you continued.

The "I like you too" was still stuck in your throat. You couldn't say it yet, it was too early. Fortunately, Death is a patient being.

"And from what I remember these past few weeks, I had a lot of fun with you," you sighed. "But I can't return your love." You looked at the floor, embarrassed. "I don't know how to love someone or be loved, I don't even know how to love myself."

Rio was silent for a few minutes. Y/N was sure she had lost her chance at happiness.

"Oh, darling," Rio knelt in front of you and caressed your face, softly. You could get used to this every day. "I can teach you to love yourself, like I love you...if you let me. I want to spend my eternity by your side."

Her eyes were so beautiful and bright, you could get lost in their immensity. You could love her over time, you know that. You just have to let yourself.

You nodded slightly and Rio smiled, moving closer.

"May I?" She asked for the second time that day, but this time it was to kiss you. You smiled, taking the initiative now.

It would be a long journey for the two of you, with some ups and downs, but Y/N would never feel hated again. Rio Vidal would kill everyone before they had the chance to hurt you.

[hero21us]

Gold Reigns Supreme

Brody, a dedicated member of the Golden Army soccer team, has always admired Trey’s track and field prowess. He follows Trey’s career closely, inspired by his relentless dedication and impressive achievements. However, recently, Brody heard unsettling rumors about Trey’s sudden disinterest in his sport and his peculiar obsession with a black rubber polo shirt. This strange behavior reminded Brody of his former teammate, Christian, who had disappeared soon after obtaining a similar shirt.

Brody decides to reach out to Trey.  Trey agrees to meet at a local outside gym.  Trey is sitting alone on a bench, lost in thought when Brody catches sight of him.  Taking a deep breath Brody walks over, his heart pounding with anxiety and anticipation.

“Hey, Bro,” Brody begins, trying to sound casual. “Thanks for meeting me.  I heard about your experience with a black polo shirt.  How are you doing?  Trey looks up, his eyes filled with a mixture of relief and apprehension. “Brody, thanks for reaching out.  It’s been tough but I’m okay.” 

“Trey, Brody begins, you may remember that the Golden Army brought on a new wingback, Christian #55, a few months ago.  Wanting to prove himself during his first game he did not stay in his position or listen to our captains’ instructions ultimately costing us the match.  His life became hell after that match.  One day he showed up to practice wearing a black rubber polo just like the one you described. 

He began handing out the polos to the team saying that we would win if we became one, obey and serve.  Some of the team seeing his focus and intensity accepted the shirts. They all quickly stopped caring about the team and our matches.  All they wanted was for everyone to start wearing the polos.  When no one else on the team would accept the polos, Christian and those who did all vanished.”

Brody continues, “Reading the stories about your experience I am hoping you might have some information or insight that can help me to find out what happened to Christian and the rest of my teammates.”

Trey takes a deep breath and begins to share his experience. “It all started when I received a package from 009, filled with advanced workout gear. Each outfit seemed to enhance my performance, but the last item was different—a black ‘Fred Perry’ rubber polo shirt. When I put it on, I felt an incredible surge of energy.  I was able to focus, increase the intensity of my workouts and be more synchronized with the team while running the 4x400 relay.

One night after a great workout two men in black came up from behind and put a gas mask on me.  The gas did something to change me.  I no longer had a will.  I existed to obey, serve, be one with my brother drones in the collective.  Our command was to make all men one, united in the black rubber polo.  I was specifically commanded to not wear the polo but to spread the love of all things rubber and polo.  I was to put the shirt on at night along with a gas mask.  The tight rubber shirt on my skin combined with the gas was intoxicating.  It was so powerful and overwhelming that it became impossible for me to act normal.  I needed the rubber and the gas.  I needed to be one with the collective at all times.” 

“I couldn’t have broken free without my friends.”  Trey continues.  “They physically tore the polo off of me and destroyed the gas mask.” 

As Trey and Brody talked a figure emerges from the shadows striding toward them.  Its movements are unnervingly precise, its body clad in black rubber with a black “Fred Perry” buttoned up polo with gold accents and a laurel leaf on its left pec.  Most striking of all was the gas mask obscuring its face, the lenses dark and impenetrable.

It carried another gas mask in its hand.

“Trey,” the figure states in a voice that is deep, monotone and eerily robotic, yet disturbingly human. It is less a voice and more a command programmed to sound alive. “You are required to wear this.”

Trey jumps up, a chill running down his spine, a look of terror on his face.  He remembers the nights he spent under the influence of the gas, how it clouded his mind and made him act against his will. "What the hell? No way! Never again!” "I won't go back," "I’m not a puppet, and I won’t let the collective control me."

But the drone persists; "Resistance is futile. The collective will prevail," he drones, reaching out to place the mask on Trey with mechanical precision.  "You must return to the collective. Your purpose is to spread the unity of the collective." “For your safety. Resistance is prohibited.” 

Brody steps forward; his tone confrontational. “Hey, back off! You’re not forcing anything on him.” 

The polo drone’s head tilts slightly, as if recalculating its approach. 

"Resistance is futile. The collective will prevail." It states matter-of-factly as it suddenly lunges at Brody, attempting to secure the mask over his face. Brody dodges, shoving the polo drone back. Trey joins the fray, grabbing the drone’s arm and pulling it away from Brody.  The gas mask it is holding falling to the ground.

The battle is fierce, each moment filled with tension and determination.  The polo drone displays remarkable force, but its movements seem pre‑programmed, predictable. Trey manages to lock its arms behind its back while Brody reaches for the polo drone’s mask.

The polo drone fights like an animal; its desperation palpable. It claws and thrashes, trying to reclaim the gas mask and put it on Trey. But Brody and Trey hold tight, their combined strength overpowering the drone's frantic attempts.

“If there’s someone under this, we’re pulling them out!” Brody yells, his fingers prying at the mask’s straps.

The polo drone’s muffled voice protests. “Unauthorized action. Cease immediately.”

“Yeah, no thanks,” Brody grunts. With a final tug, the mask comes free landing on the sidewalk, and the two friends stumble backward.

Beneath the mask is a pale, sweating face. The man looks disoriented, his eyes blinking rapidly as if waking from a nightmare.

“Who... where am I?” the man stammers, his voice trembling.

“Christian!” Brody snaps. “Is it really you?”  You just tried to force that gas mask on me!”

Christian looks at the two masks on the ground and begins to reach out for one before Trey stops him.  He reaches for it again becoming more agitated.  Brody holds him tight.  Christian’s attempts become more frantic, his addiction driving him wild. But Brody keeps an iron grip on him determined to keep him away from the mask.

"Look into my eyes Christian. “You will be okay,” Brody states, his eyes beginning to glow gold, while offering Christian a big hug.  “We are here for you!” 

Slowly Christian begins to calm down.  He stares at his own trembling fingers.

“Where have you been for the past few months?” Brody asks.

“I—I don’t remember. The last thing I recall, I was at Pulse waiting for Cap.  He arrived with someone else who I didn’t know. Then... nothing.” 

While explaining and continuing to stare into Brody's gold eyes and the aura of gold that now completely surrounds him, the gold begins to return to Christian’s eyes.  Slowly the black polo is absorbed into Christian’s skin as his gold jersey reemerges bringing a clarity to his mind. 

In a trance like state, Christian continues; “Bros, after I f*cked up during the match I went into a deep depression.  I lost all my confidence.  When cap put the polo on me, I felt my focus, intensity and ability to synchronize with the team return. It was empowering.  Then the gas mask was put on me and all that focus changed to obeying, serving and growing a collective. Nothing else mattered.”

“What are you saying?”  Brody asks.

“It was not the polo that made me fight for the collective but the gas.  I can still feel the polo within me.  It is now part of my being.  It has united itself to the gold within me to sharpen my focus and intensity in order to support the golden army.”

Impulsively Trey decides he must destroy the gas masks. Spotting two kids walking through the park on the way to baseball practice, he runs toward them and grabs a bat from one of them. Running back, he is about to smash the masks.

"Stop!" Brody yells. Trey freezes in place. "What?"

Without a word Brody grabs a mask, and to the horror of Trey and Christian, places it over his face. He becomes frozen and blank his individuality beginning to drain as the mask blacks out Brody's gold eyes. At that exact moment a group of polo drones emerges and surrounds the three men holding polos and gas masks repeating: "You will submit. You will obey."

Brody is standing frozen in place lost to the gas. The drones are approaching. Time seems to have stopped for Christian and Trey not knowing what to do.

Brody's head twitches slightly. It begins to shake. The back eye sockets start to glow. Brighter and brighter as a gold spiral appears. Brody's gold aura shines brighter than it ever had before. His jersey becomes metallic in nature and shine. The entire mask turns gold and a gold gas seeps out from the edges of the mask.

The polo drones freeze mid step.

After what seems an eternity to Christian and Trey, but is only a few seconds, Brody removes the gas mask as if nothing had happened.

The eye sockets of all the polo drones surrounding them have become gold spirals. A gold gas can be seen swirling behind the lenses. They stand erect facing Brody and in unison intone: "We are one. We obey gold. We serve gold. Gold is supreme. Awaiting commands."

"Gather all drones to the pitch where team management will provide instructions," Brody commands. The drones turn and walk away in unisan.

Brody, Christian and Trey, all exhausted and overwhelmed, leave the park supporting one another to find a place where they can rest and process all they have just experienced.

A few months later Trey wins Olympic gold in the 4X400 wearing his gold proudly wanting nothing to do with polos or drones. Christian rejoins Brody and the team on the pitch wearing his black rubber polo during the day filled with confidence, focus and intensity while easily shifting into his gold jersey which shines brighter and stronger than it ever had before. The polo drones remain mindless and obedient to every command of the collective which has become gold. The collective supports the Golden Army in all things. It only assimilating members of the golden family who willingly submit. The polos obedience being reinforced by wearing the black rubber polos and the gold gas flowing through their masks.

[shinybearnerd]

"Healing Wings"

GOOD OMENS SEASON 2! SPOILER WARNING! IF YOU DID SEE IT YET, DO NOT INTERACT!

Hi!

So, I'm a mess since I finished the new season.

I tried to cope by writing something (since I'll be pretty busy for all of August). And this is the result.

Justice for my boy! He deserved his happy ending.

I wanted to thank everyone that send me requests. As I said before, I'm a bit busy but once I'll have some time, I'll write. Promise.

Enjoy!

Pair: Crowley x reader

(Hints of: Aziraphale x reader, Aziraphale x Crowley, Aziraphale x reader x Crowley)

Words: 2,8k

Genre: Smut +18, fluff and angst

Story: when Aziraphale goes away to become the archangel in heaven, Y/n and Crowley find themselves alone. They both with a feeling of abandonment. As they lean on each other for support, their relationship blossoms deeper.

English is not my first language. I'm sorry if there're any mistakes.

The ride to your house is quiet.

You don't remember much about what happened earlier. You only recall screaming at Aziraphale for deciding to go away and leaving you and Crowley alone. His eyes were covered in tears.

     << Y/n, I can- >>

     << Do not fucking bother! Go on. Go play with your little mates. Is what you wanted after all, right? >> You cut him off, returning to Crowley.

The demon looks at the scene inside the car. He doesn't hear what you are saying but can imagine by the looks of you and the angel. He even doesn't say anything about it once you step inside the car. He only starts the engine and begins to drive.

Once you arrive, you convince Crowley to come inside without effort. Once you lock the door behind you, you see him. Sitting on the sofa. He stares blankly in front of him. Or at least you think so. He didn't take off his glasses or have any intention to.

You walk towards him without saying a word. When you take your first step, it seems like he only notices your presence at that moment.

You walk to him. Crowley's gaze fixed on you, making you feel exposed.

You're now in front of him. You try to say something, but he makes the first move by hugging your legs and placing his head on your stomach. He's tired. You both are.

You remain like this for a few minutes. You caress his red hair and try not to cry, as he enjoys your touch.

He then looks up at you.

You're starting to feel a particular jolt invading your body. Something that grows deeper when the demon stands up and obscures you with his height.

He takes your chin, his thumb exploring your lips. He then kisses you. It's a needy one. A desperate one.

You start to undress one another, but when you try to take his glasses, he freezes.

     << I... I prefer to leave them on. >>

Once Nina and Maggie get out, you pop out from your hiding spot.

Crowley hears your movement but doesn't say a word. Too scared about your reaction to actually do something. 

He listens. Listen to the way your clothes sound when they rub against each other. Listen to your increased heartbeat and your hitching breath, wishing he could feel it against his skin while-

     << Is it true? >> You finally take some courage.

Crowley physically can't turn to look at you, like something is blocking him. But he manages to stand up and put on his glasses. And suddenly, he feels like he can at least try.

When he turns around, your heart sinks a little.

     << No, please... >>

     <&lt; What? >>

You try to reach, but he takes a step behind, trying to have some space between you two.

     << You know that you don't need those >> you point at the black lenses << when you are with me. We've already been through this. Remember? >>

     << I would like to keep them on. If you don't mind. >>

You sigh, knowing that he's too stubborn to listen. So you ask again, trying to look into his eyes. << Is it true? >>

The demon doesn't respond.

     << It's pretty easy, Crowley. It's a "yes" or "no" answer... >>

Your voice seemed calm and amused by all of this, trying to ease the mood. But every fibre of your body tried to remain calm and not rush things.

Something was still blocking him. His pride, maybe. Or even the fear of you rejecting him. He doesn't know which.

     << I'm sorry... I-I can't. >>

He tries to exit the bookshop, but you stop him.

     << Where are you going? Hold on! Why can't you say it? What's wrong? >>

     << Because-... Fuck! >>

He walks in the room, stomping his feet like a wild horse that's been caught and imprisoned. He's trying to focus on something that isn't you and elaborate a clever way out. He's a demon, after all. He's the master of lying.

He can do this.                                                                                                    But once he turns to look at you, he suddenly can't lie to you anymore.

     << Because it's true, Y/n! There. I said it! >>

Your heart is bursting, but you let him talk first. You feel like he needs to.

     << You don't understand how you made me feel in all these years we knew each other! I only thought that Aziraphale would be the lo... >> he sighs, trying to calm himself by rubbing his eyes. << But then you came along. So full of life and wonder, and it j-just... happened!- >>

In the beginning, he's doubtful. The poor devil thought that was an act of pity towards him, but once he comprehend that you're not going to leave soon, he deepens it. A rush of emotions adds to the kiss. Passion, desperation and relief. All put in Crowley's kiss, who is touching and hugging you like you'll disappear.

You don't even spend time saying something. You've already waited enough.

With big steps, you end your distance. You take the demon's sunglasses with one hand while the other takes the head, smashing your lips together.

You start to caress each other. Your hair, your back, your arms... All you two can reach has been touched and loved.

     << Please tell me this is not a dream and that I'm not gonna wake up in the Bentley with a boner... >> he whispered on your lips between a kiss and another.

You smirk against his mouth while pressing yourself towards him.

     << I don't know about the dream, but I hope this isn't something you have in your pocket. >> You replied, touching his clothed erection.

The demon growls, squishing the flesh of your hips under his fingers.

     << You're playing with fire, doll. >>

His pushes are erratic and hopeless. Like he can release all that pain he's feeling.

But suddenly his pushes stop. You feel his hold tightening as he's afraid to lose you too. Little and muffled sobs start to fill the air as the demon tries to hold you as close as possible.

     << Crowley? >>

You caress his head, trying to escape his grip to look at him.

     << I'm sorry... >> he muffles in tears.

His head is against your chest. Tears are starting to wet your skin.

     << Hey... No, no, no. Hey, look at me. Please, look at me, Crowley... >>

You take off his glasses. Once you look at his eyes, your stomach tightens. His eyes are full of sorrow, ache and distress. And it all makes you feel awful. It's like you can't do anything to make him feel better...

You manage to take his face in your hand. You voluntarily start to caress his cheeks with your thumbs while you look into each other's eyes. And what you see breaks your heart.

Crowley's lips are a little parted, quick breaths leaving and entering his mouth. His cheeks are starting to get wet too. The eyebrows narrowed in an expression of pain. 

The demon makes a face, like he has something to say about that, but you don't give him the chance.

     << I-I'm sorry. I should not... >>

He tries to avoid eye contact. 

     << No, hey... Hey. It's okay, darling. It's not your fault. >>

     << But it is! >> He finally looks at you. << If I wasn't the way I am, maybe Aziraphale- >>

     << Do not dare finish what you are about to say! >> You snap.

Your voice is trembling with anger and pain. How could he think that?

<< I don't know what that idiot was thinking. But he shouldn't have said that! And mostly, you mustn't even consider that! How could you even think that there's something wrong with you? That you're the messed up one?

<< Every time I look at you, I fall in love with you even more. I love everything about you! How you say that you're evil and not nice after saying or doing the sweetest and most beautiful things that even an angel can't do! You are infinitely better than a legion of angels. Aziraphale included. >>

     << Aziraphale does not define you, my love. I know that it fucking hurts. Him choosing heaven over us hurt me, and I can't imagine how heartbroken you must feel right now... But he had no right to tell you to change for him. Love is not like that. Love is not changing the other person. Love is feeling like you own the fucking world! Like you've been struck by lightning every time you see them... Love is supposed to make you feel like this. >>

You take his hand and place it against your chest. Your heartbeat is accelerated. The demon can feel it under his hand and thinks it's the most beautiful music he's ever listened to in centuries. 

Your eyes lock one last time. Every limb of your body is linked to the other, trying both be close.

You discover that you're crying once Crowley slowly slides his hand from your chest, then to your neck and to one of your cheeks, wiping the tears from your skin. He then cups your head with both hands, leaning closer to kiss the new tears forming. Your eyes are closed. You try to enjoy this moment that you indulge with the other. You put your hands on Crowley's wrists, rubbing them with your thumbs. Suddenly you feel something odd.

     << You have a heartbeat... >>

You open your eyes only to see that Crowley is already looking at you.

Under your fingers, you can feel his fast heartbeat.

     << I didn't know you had one. >>

     << In your defence, I didn't tell you... >> replied, starting to wander his hand along your hips. He felts like the luckiest entity in the entire universe.

     << Is it supposed to be this rapid? >>

You see him smile a little, then look at your eyes.

     << Didn't you say that love was supposed to feel like that? >>

Crowley leans closer, one hand on your hair. Once your lips meet, you feel fireworks spreading all over you. The demon's lips are so soft against yours. Kissing you with gentleness as if you were made out of porcelain.

You blush and smile.

He does the same. The first real smile after Aziraphale's departure, even if it's little.

His trusts are slow but deep.

Then, he slips the other hand around your hips, bringing you close as he thrusts deep inside you. A moan dies in your mouth.

Crowley smirks a little before he resumes kissing you. His hands are both on your hips as he's helping you move.

Your eyes are locked as your messy breaths get mixed. Sometimes you kiss, but you prefer to look at each other. You can't explain why. You just feel a deeper connection between you. Like you are making love with your souls too.

-.-.-.-.-.-

You continue moving without saying a word. Smiling, touching, squeezing and scratching (on your part) one another.

And when you come, it's like you feel complete and truly loved.

Your foreheads touch as you start panting and giggling. 

Moments before, after you got dressed, you asked your favourite demon if he could pick a movie while you were calling your favourite takeaway restaurant.

     << What are you doing? >>

Crowley quickly turns towards you. A pillow is still in his hands.

Once the call ended, you saw his figure walk the hallway one last time before disappearing. You came to understand that he went outside, in the garden. You decide to sneak out and follow him.

As you were talking with one of the staff, in the corner of your eye, you could see Crowley walking the hallway front and back multiple times. Different things in his hands every time he passed in front of you.

You were so curious and amused that you almost forgot you were ordering food.

Under the moon's soft light, you can see that the grass is covered with blankets and pillows. Over them, there's a bottle of wine and two glasses; while the outside was filled with battery candles.

You can't move or form a single sentence. Your mouth, on the other hand, is curved in the most beautiful smile the demon has ever seen.

Crowley's now looking at you. A nervous smile on his lips.

     << Surprise!>> He throws the pillow on the blankets with the others. << Do you like it? >>

     << I-I... don't know what to say.>>

He walked closer, putting his hands on your hips. << I thought we'd have a post-love-making/little night picnic date under the stars. I figured it'd be nice to talk about the constellations and all that celestial stuff you enjoy while we get drunk. >> he smugly smirks as he hears your chuckle.

-.-.-.-.-.-

With a snap, the two glasses get filled. Crowley passes you one. << What do you say? >>

     << I'm all yours.>>

He smiles at you and kisses you passionately.

     << You know... I've always wanted to ask something. >>

You two have just finished eating and are now on the blankets, cuddling and trying to get drunk.

     Crowley has spent all dinner talking about the stars. He also told you about his time as a nebula creator. You could see a sparkle in his eyes as he spoke. Some sadness behind it, too. Even if he tried to hide it.

Crowley was amused by all of this.

     << Shoot. >>

     << What's it like having someone making up stories about your work? You know, the constellations and so on... >>

     << Oh. Well... I don't mind. It's like reading- What is that you read... Ehm... -Yes! Fanfiction. It's like reading a fanfiction. I don't mind. >>

     You chuckle, a little flustered. << I don't read fanfiction! >>

     He brings the glass to his lips. << Oh yes, you do! Every time I see you with your phone and reading something, you always giggle and kick your feet- >>

     << How dare you! I do not! >>

     << Oh, yes, you do! >>

You laugh. Your face turn all red by now. << You liar! >>

You both chuckle and lean against the other. The demon's free hand is now running up and down your arm. His head is on yours as he leaves a kiss.

     << Thank you. >> you said, breaking the silence. << I loved all of this. >>

Crowley smiles, proud of himself. << Glad you like it. >>

He put his glass near yours and made them touch. A little high-pitched "tin" followed after. << To the perfect night. >>

     << But I have to admit... >> You continue, teasingly raising an eyebrow. << you seemed flustered when I found you setting all up.>>

     &lt;< Flustered? Me? Nonsense!>>

You chuckle, leaning in to peck him on the cheek. Your affectionate gaze never leaves his.

He couldn't help but smile, feeling a warmth in his heart that had nothing to do with the wine. 

     << Jokes aside, you know how to make a moment last forever.>>

Crowley looks at the wine in his glass. A soft and smug smile on his face.

     << Well, I must admit, this wasn't originally on my plan... >> he confesses.

     << What do you mean? >>

Crowley shifted slightly, trying to find the right words to explain himself.

     << I mean... I had planned to take you and... Azirapahle out on a proper date tonight. >> He admitted, his voice soft and hesitant. << I wanted it to be perfect, you know? Wine, dine, and all that... >>

A suffering smile is on his face as he gunks down his wine.

     << I wanted tonight to be special...>> he softly admitted, looking at his empty glass before grabbing the bottle. << You know... after a week of... well, hell. >> He pours the rubin liquor. << For you. For me... for him. For us. >> 

     You take his hand and kiss it. << Well, I must say, this night picnic under the stars was a perfect first day. >>

     He looks at you, uncertain. << Really? >>

     You kiss him and nod, smiling. << Today was hard... >>

     << Yep. >> he takes another sip of wine and clicks his tongue.

     << But this has been the best date I have ever been to! >>

He smiles, looks again into your eyes and says only two words: << Thank you. >>

You know that he's not talking about the date.

You kiss him again and look at him, stroking his tattoed cheek.

     << Don't even mention it. >>

[praxcrown5]

Geology and the World of Cars: Part 1

Ask and ye shall receive. We're gonna discuss geology, y'all!

Because there's a LOT to unpack, here, I'm gonna do it in parts, and I'll provide explanations as we go. I'll be tagging all of these posts with "WOCgeology."

One of the big things I want y'all to take away from this is that all rocks on Earth fall into one of three groups depending on how they form: Metamorphic, igneous, and sedimentary.

Metamorphic rocks: Form when a rock is altered by high temperatures, and/or water, and/or high pressures without melting.

Igneous rocks: Form when rock is heated to the point of melting (becomes a liquid) and allowed to cool.

Sedimentary rocks: Form when a rock is broken down chemically or physically (weathered), and the pieces/ions move to a new place (erosion/transportation), stop moving (deposition), and solidify (cementation and/or compaction and/or crystallization--but at temperatures outside of those what would melt or metamorphose)

I'm gonna start with metamorphic because I could only find three examples: The mountains near Thomasville, GA (Cars 3), Gasket Geyser at Piston Peak National Park (Planes Fire and Rescue) and the Himalaya Mountains (Planes). There might be more, but I gotta do a re-watch of all media with my geology lenses on. If I find more, I'll add them to this post and reblog it. :)

The mountains around Thomasville were very clearly modeled after the Great Smokey Mountains, a sub-range within the broader Appalachian Mountain Range. Compare the image below of the GSM in North Carolina to the thumbnail at the top of this post.

Metamorphic rocks need high temperatures and pressures in order to form...and the geologic forces that create non-volcanic mountains are perfect for that.

These are the conditions that we're talking about:

This image above has a lot of stuff going on...but it's got some useful takeaways. First: Metamorphism occurs over a WIDE range of temperatures and pressures. Second: different T and P regimes create different types of metamorphic rock. Third: The parent rocks, themselves, have unique compositions that react to changing T and P in different ways, creating unique mineral assemblages ("facies"). Fourth: Metamorphism has limits. If rock gets too hot, it melts. If it's not hot enough or if the pressures aren't right, the parent rock won't change at all.

So...how do we change T and P?

The Earth's core is hotter than the surface. The rate at which the temperature increases with depth is called the "geothermal gradient." The deeper you go the hotter things get. Pressure, called "lithostatic pressure," also increases with depth. If molten rock or really hot water touches existing rock, the heat from either is enough to alter it (contact and hydrothermal metamorphism, respectively). Geysers, like Gasket Geyser in Piston Peak National Park, are places where hydrothermal metamorphism can occur. Fun fact: the hot water fueling geysers is generally heated by molten rock deep under ground...so it's not all that uncommon for hydrothermal and contact metamorphism to occur in the same area.

But...consider this satellite image of the Appalachian Mountains from space:

How did they get so squiggly when they're solid rock (and were solid even when they were being metamorphosed)?

The Earth's surface consists of large slabs of rock (called "plates") that are in constant motion. They are pushed and pulled by the rocks deeper down. At that depth, the rocks behave more like dense putty (tho not actually liquid) that moves up and down, heated by even hotter rock and metal deeper within the Earth. Wherever this "putty" goes the overlying rocks have no choice but to follow. The chemical composition of the plates varies from place to place, and depending on the type of rock and the way the plates interact along their boundaries, you can get everything from giant mountain ranges (like the Himalayas) to lush, volcanic islands (think Japan).

Nearly a billion years ago, various types of rocks began colliding with the eastern cost of ancient North America, resulting in a series of mountain building events that would go on to create a giant mountain range, stretching from modern Newfoundland in Canada to northern Georgia in the US. The rocks caught up in the middle of these events became warped and twisted forming metamorphic rock. They likely had a "coating" of sedimentary rock, however, once the mountain building processes stopped, water, ice, and gravity began to gnaw away at them, leaving behind their metamorphic skeletons.

You can think of the Himalayas as a newer version of the Appalachians. They're still growing as I write this, as rocks from the Indian Plate are smushed against rocks from the Eurasian Plate. Because the mountain range is so young, the "coating" of non-metamorphic rocks (sedimentary, in this case) is still present along some parts of the range, though they have been tilted and bent.

Real Himalayas

The Himalayas as depicted in "Planes."

The Planes movies landscapes are a LOT more stylized than what we see in the Cars movies. Even so, they definitely captured the look of the range, and there are even places where you can see some layered sedimentary rock (as seen from snow laying in lines along the layers), like you see in the real Himalayas!

One thing I will note, here, is that the Appalachian mountains stop well north of Thomasville, Georgia (Smokey's hometown). In Cars 3, the area around Thomasville is more reminiscent of what you'd see in Kentucky or North Carolina. One of the images below is a screencap from Cars 3, the other is an actual photo taken in Magoffin county, Kentucky; can you tell which is which?

It's clear that they definitely wanted this rural, hilly aesthetic, but official artwork from Cars 3 (the poster below is is hanging up in the Cotter Pin) puts Thomasville in GA and not in NC.

More to come in part 2. :D

Thank you for reading!

[sunandflame]

I was again trapped in my very personal Pinterest hell when I saw this beauty here and now I can't stop thinking about an AU where Kyojuro is a photographer.

Because just imagine how he takes pictures of a building or something of his interest on a open street and suddenly you appear in front of his lenses and the only thing he can do is lower his camera and just look at you with his own eyes just to confirm himself that he is not dreaming or hallucinating. You are legit an angel with your white summer dress that flows in the wind. He stands there perplex for a second and baths in your beauty before the noises of the street hit him again. And before he lost sight of you, he takes his camera and makes pictures of you. How you walked along the street and before he could even realize it, he was following you.

And you were not only beautiful from the outside, but also on the inside. He saw how you knelt down to caress some stray kitten, that begged for your love. How you searched for a coin in your purse to give it to the people in need. Always with a smile on your lips.

Kyojuro feeling weirdly drawn to you and he did not realize how many pictures he had made of you until your head turns directly to him, noticing that he was taking pictures of you. But you were not angry, you gave him a smile and waved which took him so by surprise that he nearly drops his camera.

And while he catches his camera in an awkward and embarrassing way you were already on your way to him. Should he flee or wait for you? He was not sure, but he knew he was running hot as a flush increased on his cheek.

EDIT: Here is part 2

[genderqueerdykes]

hi um. i’d like to ask you for some advice, since it seems like a lot of people come to you when they need it. i’m a trans girl who’s been taking estrogen for 2.5 years but. i’m just so disappointed and unhappy with what hrt has done for me. i feel like i’ve been completely taken over by doomerism from me constantly comparing myself to other transfems both online and irl, and from spending too much time on trans reddit (i’m sending you this ask instead of writing another vent post on r/mtf). through this i’ve convinced myself that i will never be happy with my body, or that i’ll never have real boobs or a feminine body at all. i really really don’t want to give up hope, but it just seems so far out of reach, and i’m stuck down here in this inky abyss. what do you do in dark times when you need to regain hope, but you can’t do it yourself?

first of all, i wanted to say i'm sorry that you're feeling this way. medical transition is a very finicky thing. there is no way to predict what will happen and when, so it's okay to feel just. completely bummed the hell out when you're not seeing the changes you hoped for yet. i definitely see how it can be crushing, especially when you know your body needs to look a different way for you to be happy. it's important to consider people look a lot different irl than they do in photos and videos. camera lenses can only capture so much. pictures and videos can be edited. it's hard to compare yourself to something like that

& i did want to say that you're definitely not alone! there are a lot of girls in your exact situation. with everyone responding to HRT differently, you'll see girls who get changes right away, and girls where it takes a long time. changes with HRT generally happen very slowly, way slower than the eye can perceive, so it's okay if you feel like nothing is happening. your body just may need more time to adjust

have you ever increased your dose? if not, that is totally an option! you may also want to look into progesterone if you find that you're not happy with your breast growth after some time. it's best to look into progesterone first to make sure it's right for you, as it will affect more than just breast growth, but i wanted to throw it out there as an option! if you're not on an androgen blocker, this could also potentially help you

for both estrogen and testosterone HRT, it can take a minimum of 5 years for people to begin seeing the effects they were desiring. 5 years, minimum! that's a very long time, comparatively, you are very early on in your journey. the effects you want to see may just come along further on down the road. i know it's easy to fall into the trap of comparing yourself to others. it's good to remind yourself that they are not you, they do not share your genetics. they look like them. you look like you. it's okay that you don't look like those people- they're not you.

it doesn't make you any less of a woman just because you haven't seen these changes yet. there are plenty of women who look just like you, cis, intersex, trans, genderqueer, and otherwise. there are many cis and intersex women who don't "pass", and it doesn't make them any less of a woman: the same applies to you, and every trans girl. dysphoria can be a real pain in the ass and make things harder than it needs to be. it's okay to not be content with where you're at now. it's okay to be frustrated that you're not seeing the changes you want to right now. many, many trans people feel just the same way you do.

you may feel awkward and uncomfortable right now because you're literally in a transitional phase. think about when teenagers go through puberty, about how awkward they look and feel. cracking voices, bodies that are "in the middle" and not fully developed. that's what you're going through at the moment, and its okay. it just takes time for things to fully settle in.

what i would suggest is trying to find ways to do some self care that affirm your gender that don't involve your appearance. validating yourself in other ways is extremely important. building yourself up takes time. if you feel insecure about how you look, it's okay. you can start building your confidence in your identity and gender in other areas of yourself, first, then move on to your appearance. try to spend time with people who respect you for who you are, no matter how you look. try to surround yourself with people and things that affirm you

i hope you start seeing those changes you want to see soon. if you need more advice, feel free to ask! if any other trans girls on E have any advice for the asker, or relate to the experience, please feel free to chip in with some feedback on this ask, or by sending an ask! due to being intersex, i was taking estrogen and progesterone despite not wanting to, so i was not cataloguing what was changing or anything like that, so i can't speak from personal experience there despite having been on E HRT in the past.

take care of yourself for now. try to go easy on yourself, you're still in your coocoon. the day where you emerge as a butterfly is on its way, it just takes a little time. please feel free to come back any time. i hope we can get some good insight for you

[flowerbetweenfangs]

Cream Filling: Chapter Seven

This is part of an ongoing series. You can read the previous part here!

“No,” Ramses said flatly. He turned away from her. 

“Please!” Elle half-whined, throwing her arms around his shoulders. She had to lean into the grab to do it. 

“Right here?” Ramses pulled her out of the booth and started to walk toward the loft. Elle took a few stumbling steps after him. He grabbed her wrist to keep her from face planting onto the floor. His grip was firm and wet, the inky residue seeming to drip more in his irritation. 

Chorus’ laughter increased in volume from the kitchen but Ramses didn’t break stride. Various pots and pans began to bang around as the demon started the prep for the bar’s opening. 

“I’ll be your best friend!” Elle insisted, squeezing Ramses’ hand tighter as they walked. 

“Friendship has nothing to do with it!” Ramses insisted as they stopped at the bottom of the stairs. Shadow covered them both as magic hummed behind him. The sign’s wards floated upward, giving a visual warning before he stepped further. 

“You’re going to get yourself in trouble!” He insisted, looking over her shoulder. Scratching at the bandages wrapped around his face, he started to pull them loose and they came to a stop at the stairs in front of the loft. 

Elle groaned and leaned against the railing. Her arms were smeared with black. It quickly dried and she picked up a rag and started to wipe it off.  

“Come on. Just once. That’s all I’m asking.” She scrubbed vigorously as Ramses unwound more bandages. 

With a frustrated groan Ramses rolled his eyes, adjusted his glasses, and crossed his arms. The corner of his lip twitched in irritation, showing white flashes of fangs. His head tilted side to side as he seemed to weigh out her proposition. 

“Fine. Chorus and I need help on Fridays.” He held up a single bandaged finger, shaking it in warning. More ichor dripped between the wrappings. 

“You will work one night shift. I need you during the day.” 

“Yes!” Elle pumped her fist and smiled. She rocked on the balls of her feet, about to throw her arms around Ramses, but she caught herself at the last second. Flattening her feet, she grinned ear to ear. 

“I won’t let you down!” 

Ramses pushed his glasses up and rubbed his face. Miraculously, he didn’t smear any of the sludge onto the lenses. He slipped off the rest of the wrappings and stayed in the shadows. He moved to the bar. 

“Why do you want to work the night shift anyway?” Sitting on his haunches, he pulled out a pair of gloves from a basket under the bar.

He stood and knocked against the barrels behind the counter, then put an ear to them. Pulling out a pen and paper, he began to scribble down notes. 

“Simple,” Elle stayed on the opposite side of the counter, but leaned over it. She put her index finger and thumb together, rubbing them vigorously. 

“I know it pays well.” 

Another eyeroll, but Ramses kept silent. He pulled out bottles of alcohol and various other drinks and started to arrange them on the counter. 

“My lease is almost up at my new place!” Elle continued, leaning further of the counter. She put her weight on her hands. 

“They’re going to raise the rent if I renew with them,” She’d seen the new price and about choked. After a quick bit of research, she figured with gas and maintenance to the clunker, she may as well move out closer to the Mammon district. It had been multiple sessions of budgeting and number crunching. While she hadn't secured a new lease just yet, she knew it would be better for herself to do it.

“So, I figured I may as well move closer to my job. I have to be pragmatic.” She put a hand to her chest.

“And a certain demon I know likes to take care of his employees!” 

Ramses shot her a look and sighed. He combed his gloved fingers through his hair, then pulled a ribbon out of his vest pocket and started to tie it back. The way his fangs poked out past his lips, lightly digging into the ribbon had her reaching for a menu and starting to fan herself with it. 

Thankfully it had been warm out as well. The summer season had resulted in an uptick in business, with the summer solstice on the way. While she still only worked days, poor Aki had to swing back and forth as the “extra pair” of hands. 

She’d stayed the night over at his apartment and gotten a look at the envelope containing his tips for working an open to close and about screamed at the amount. Instead, she had gasped loud enough for him to hear over his hair dryer. The cat boy had thrown the bathroom door open so hard she thought it was about to rip off the hinges. 

And looked a mixture of impressed and annoyed when she explained. 

With a sigh, Ramses rapped his knuckles against his brow. Wiggling his fingers, he murmured to himself. His pointed ears wiggled, and he nodded as if he’d just answered a question. 

“Tell you what, if you and Chorus get along–” 

“I don’t mind her!” Chorus called from the kitchen as meat began to sizzle. Smoke began to billow out of the kitchen window. Whether it was due to the season or the equipment, the room began to get hot. 

“She’s fast and gets the job done, just like you said the human would. That’s all I need to know.” 

Elle’s cheeks burned at the frankness of the statement. Sweat trickled down her brow and she wasn’t sure if it was from the praise or the heat. 

“-we’ll see about getting something arranged. Just…” Ramses’ tone suggested that he was one step away from jumping the counter and going to the kitchen to give the other demon a piece of his mind. Probably throw in a few punches. 

His fangs grazed his lower lip. Crimson drops welled on it. Wincing, he picked up a towel from the counter and pressed it to his mouth. Black and red marbled in the fabric as he let out an exasperated sigh. 

“Be careful, alright?” He put his free hand on her shoulder, voice muffled by the cloth. “Between the Dryders, Tanpopo… Ash… ” His eyes narrowed and he spat the incubus’ name out like it was a dirty word. Lowering the towel, he twisted to the sink and let more blood drip out of his mouth. His hand never left her shoulder.

“I’ll be fine.” Elle waved a hand in front of her, finally releasing the demon’s grip. 

“I’m sure you guys are more than capable!” She unzipped her purse and pulled out her protective charm. It gave off a comforting glow, a vibrating pulse going through the chain and her fingers. While she had stopped wearing it around her neck at during the day to keep it from zapping Aki, she wasn’t about to be stupid. 

“This too, remember?” 

Ramses didn’t flinch. He stared at the necklace, then sighed. 

“You can’t wear that while we’re open. You’re going to upset customers.” 

Elle frowned and looked at the charm. He was right. While the morning customers didn’t seem to do much to set it off, she thought about how demons would be coming out at night. It’d be like running around the room and spritzing patrons with holy water. Or a UV light. 

“The maid uniform will have to go,” Chorus said as he came in, tapered claws threaded through the handles of what looked like a dozen beer steins. 

She found her mind drifting to how dexterous his hands could be at other things. 

No. Boss’ best friend and business partner! Above you! 

Then her mind started to drift to just how above the demon could be, and various other positions. 

No! Focus!

Elle looked down at her attire, trying to distract herself. It would be weird wearing something else to work. Sure, she wore casual clothing for the catering job, but… 

Her eyes went to the vest and tie both men were wearing. Would she have to wear the same? 

“What’s wrong with my uniform?” It was stained and dirty from the day shift, and Ramses grabbing, but nothing a quick wipe down or change of apron couldn’t fix. 

“Nothing,” Chorus assured her, flitting back to the kitchen again. More dishes clinked and clattered as he moved around. How he ran both stations, she couldn’t say. Maybe him speaking in multiple voices meant he had just as many areas of expertise? He was older… 

“But a vest and scarf would help add a sense of unity in our clothing. Make us appear more professional.” Chorus poked his head out of the kitchen window as flamed burst behind him. He paused, scratching at the prongs in his horns. They were charred and cracked from the summer sun. The burnt pieces came off in chunks, but it didn’t seem to be causing the demon any pain. Maybe he was like a deer who shed their antlers? 

Chorus collected the pieces into a towel and folded it up. There was a bright flash and a wave of heat that made her hair stand on end. It happened so quickly Elle didn’t even have time to flinch away. 

When her eyes readjusted, the demon’s hand was empty, and the air smelled like burnt meat. He flexed his fingers and wiggled some soot and ash free. It glowed and never touched the ground. 

“Nekokuro also had to get a uniform for the night shift as well,” Chorus continued. “You may have seen it.” 

Elle inhaled sharply and found herself looking around at other parts of the restaurant.  

“And to put it into terms you would probably find the most agreeable: More money.” 

“Well, you could have led with that.” Elle thought about the day crew. She was always at the front counter and lobby. Wrecks and Horac were in the kitchen the entire shift. Aki ran in and out of both areas, but he still only wore a button up shirt and bow tie. 

“We should have some spares downstairs.” Chorus headed to the top of the entrance to the basement. He paused at the top step, hand on the rail. “Which reminds me, did we ever add you to the ward to give you access?” 

Elle pondered the question. She’d never had to go down into the basement. Sometimes she forgot the restaurant even had one. Everything she needed was in the work fridge or in the immediate area upstairs. The delivery and food trucks always dropped off supplies in quantities that never required (or lasted long enough with how busy they were) going into overstock. 

She looked at Ramses with a raised brow. 

“... An oversight on my part,” He sheepishly admitted. As he scratched the back of his head, he nervously chuckled and started to turn red. “What’s your size again?” 

They headed to the basement. Elle could feel the threshold spring up when she ventured too close. Stopping, she waited for Ramses to dismantle the ward so she could walk through. 

Their footsteps echoed as they descended down the stairs. 

“Hope you don’t mind it being a little cold.” Even as he spoke, a small fog came out of Ramses mouth. 

Elle rubbed her arms. It figured. There were probably more ingredients down here that needed to be kept cool for storage, on top of basements just being cold in general. She half expected to see frost forming on the walls. 

They got to the last stair. A second threshold sprung up and it was like Elle stepped on a springboard. It launched her back to the top of the stairs. Energy crackled around her, and an ancient power loudly hummed. 

Chorus grunted when she slammed into him. They both stumbled back, but the demon managed to find his footing. 

“Are you alright, Elle?” A legion of voice asked, making her head spin. 

“Fine…” She put a hand to the side of her head and took a few teetering steps to the booth. Her entire body felt like she’d jammed each joint. 

“Sorry!” Ramses was at her side. “You remember how I said people were sneaking up to the loft? Well… We had more people trying to poke around in the basement. It’s been so long since I’ve had to give someone permission to go down there I just… Forgot.” 

Elle shook her head. Her hands were shaking, even laid flat on the table. 

“I’ll uh… Pay you triple overtime.” 

***

“Night shift!?” Wrecks nearly dropped his cigarette. He overcompensated and clenched his jaw, spraying the area in front of him with embers and ash. 

“Shepard, are you crazy!?” He rubbed his forelegs and hands together, mumbling to himself about how it was a bad idea. The cloud of smoke around him began to envelop them both. 

Elle stepped back and waved a hand through the air, coughing. Now she’d have to wash her uniform three times to get the stink out. Maybe having a spare wouldn’t be a bad idea… 

He waved his arms with her and winced. 

“I’ll be fine!” Elle insisted. She grabbed his forelegs with one hand and his wrists with the other, having to stand on her toes to do so. Even then, she only came up to just above his navel. 

“You’re working yourself up.” 

The phrase made the Drider’s body go taut under her touch. 

“This isn’t the day crowd,” Wrecks warned as he took a long drag off the cigarette, burning it down to the butt. Without pausing, he lit up another and took another puff. His hands shook as he did. 

“Demons will be at their peak power! And not to mention all the creatures that come out in the dark.” He rubbed his forehead in a pattern that pulled the bottom of his eyes down. 

“I’m with Peter Darker here,” Aki’s voice came from above. The lid of the dumpster creaked as he hopped down from the roof. He held another paper doll by its neck. It caught fire and turned into a puff of smoke. Shaking his hands, he wiped them on his pants. 

Elle groaned and let go of Wrecks, who was mumbling in confusion at the name he'd been addressed by.

When was the kitsune going to let up? She wasn’t even sure what the dolls were supposed to do. But if Aki pouncing on them caused a small bit of fire, it probably wasn’t good. 

Aki jumped down from the dumpster with a grunt and sat on his haunches in front of it. 

“I know you guys mean well,” Elle sighed and crossed her arms. “but I’ve got to make sure I can get some funds together before my lease is up.” 

The thought of taking out another loan or going back into debt when her head was about to breach the surface made her chest feel tight. 

Every time her phone rang, she was hoping it was Ash, telling her that they’d finally found Adrian and she could sleep a little easier. She’d paid off the charm and the table. Moving out of the studio and into something closer was going to do wonders for her mental health. 

“Just don’t quit the day shift over it!” Wreck’s forelegs went back to rubbing together. “I–”

“We’d miss you.” His eyes flicked back and forth between Aki and Horac in the kitchen.  

“It’s just a temporary thing!” Elle assured him. “I’ll work this Friday night into Saturday morning, and I’ll have all of Sunday off!”

And if things went well, then it could become something a little more permanent. She tried to imagine her nights ahead, actually being able to save some money and possibly buy something a little more extravagant, maybe a new wardrobe and make up. Actually live somewhere where she had walls around her bed, not just a large open area. 

“Don’t forget you’re still human,” Aki crossed his arms, ears flat against his head. “Despite the company you keep. All the money in the world won’t mean anything if you’re too sick to enjoy it.”

His tail thrashed behind him, drumming the metal of the dumpster and filling the area with a bassy echo.  

“You can crash at my place if you really are worried about a living space.” 

“Mine is a little farther and more secluded, but it’s private!” Wrecks added. “And Horac has a whole house to himself, except when his daughters come over…” 

“I’m not going to put you all out like that!” Elle waved her hands through the air as another cloud of smoke covered her. She shot a dirty look at Wrecks, who stubbed out his cigarette and stuck it back in the carton. 

Despite her protests, she did feel happy knowing that they all were willing to offer up what they had. Ironic that she found some of the most generous people in the city overrun by the demon brother who represented greed. 

Before she could open up her mouth to argue further, Horac bellowed: 

“Lunch rush is coming! Get your scrawny asses back in here! If I’m late for another one of Izzy's soccer games or Jojo's dance recitals, I’m not going to let any of you forget it!” 

***

Elle wove through the crowds, balancing one tray in each hand. One held drinks, the other plates of food. They rattled as she made sharp turns and jerks to avoid limbs, tails, and the occasional tentacle whipped into her path. Most of the occupants of the bar towered over her. It wasn’t a contest of who would win if they bumped into one another. 

Miraculously, she hadn’t dropped anything. There had been a couple close calls and stumbles, but she managed to plant her foot down just in time. Part of her wished she had Wrecks’ extra legs. Or Aki’s ability to just parkour his way around things. It would be easier to just climb up through the loft at this rate. 

So many people had packed into the tiny space. Quartz had been placed on tables, with a large piece in the middle of the floor. They glowed with magic, projecting images of a pair of minotaurs engaging in what looked like gladiatorial combat. 

Elle couldn’t keep up with it, but occasionally she caught the two asterians clashing with one another, punctuated by cheers and jeers that shook the entire bar. Then she was there to top off drinks and refill more food. Most didn’t seem to even notice her until she was right beside them. Aside from a few startled expressions, most had been cheerful and polite. 

She made a day’s worth of tips in two hours. 

“You’re doing well,” Ramses assured her as he loaded drinks onto the tray. “The Asterian fights always draw in big crowds like this.” 

“Talk about a baptism by fire!” Elle giggled nervously, feeling the smile become strained as she tried to hold it. Her legs were killing her, and she was sure that she’d be sleeping over at Aki’s tonight. The thought of driving made her want to fall on the floor right there. 

“They can get a little rowdy, but if any of them put their hands on you, let me know.” Shadows moved across the wall behind him. His eyes caught the light to make them look like burning coals. 

Elle’s cheeks flushed and she nodded. 

“Oi, human!” An ogre bellowed. “Can we get a pitcher of Merale?” 

“Coming right up!” Elle called back, putting on her cheery ‘customer service’ voice. It felt weird being addressed in such a way after having so many regulars who called her by name on the day shift. 

Ramses poured something from one of the many barrels into a copper pitcher, then placed it on the tray with the rest of the drinks. One of the people at the bar called for  him, and he whirled around to face them. 

Chorus’ arm stretched out from the kitchen window and placed another entree onto a waiting tray. The demon then came out and picked up the drink tray. He was a blur through the crowd, whipping up a breeze behind him. A few patrons twisted to try and see when he stirred their hair or clothes. 

You’re still human, despite the company you keep.

Elle grabbed the pitcher and was on the move. The liquid that sloshed around inside smelled foul. When it caught the light, it looked red and thick. There was red crust around the rim when she reached the table. Before she could put it down, it was snatched from her grip by a large green hand. The liquid sloshed, the ogre who had called her drank it down in only a few gulps. 

“Girlie!” Another ogre flashed a copper coin in her face. She didn’t recognize what currency it belonged to. It was roughly minted, values looked like they had been scratched on. 

“Who should I bet on? Earthshaker or Thunderhoof?” His eyes were eager, lips drawing back to reveal sharp tusks. His wild mane was pulled back into a tail, but the ribbon he’d used was frayed and looked ready to snap. 

No, Elle! Customer! Focus! 

More coins gleamed on the table. There was metallic clinking as stacks quickly formed a haphazard pile as the minotaurs clashed above. She couldn’t tell who was who. As the money climbed higher, she could feel the tension in the room start to rise. 

“Uh… Earthshaker.” She said quickly, the name coming out as a squeak. Ducking away she headed back to the bar. When her back was turned, there was another triumphant yell. 

Once she was behind the bar, she dropped on her haunches and took in a deep breath. Only a few more hours of this and she could head home.  

“You look like you could use a break,” Ramses dropped next to her. “If you want to go home early, there’s nothing–” 

“I can handle it!” She said, perhaps too loud and quickly. She tried to keep herself from grimacing at how hastily she’d yelled. 

He raised a brow. 

“I just need a moment to catch my breath. A bit different than what I’m used to, it all!” 

“Alright. Go ahead and take your fifteen minute break.” Ramses straightened and began to chat with someone in front of the counter. 

Elle shuffled for a few steps, then popped back up and quickly headed for the basement. There wasn’t an empty booth for her to sit in, and there was no way she’d hand around outside in the dark. If she went to her car, she might fall asleep. 

The threshold crackled as she passed it. Sparks of energy shot up around her, bathing the concrete walls in red and purple light. It illuminated the room just enough to see, although Elle didn’t have to go very far. 

Her purse was hanging on a hook next to the door. She pulled it off and unzipped it to check her phone. There were two messages. Neither from Ash. 

‘Wanna die yet? :p’ From Aki. ‘I warned you. Nights suck. =^.^=;’ 

‘I hope you’re safe.’ From Wrecks. ‘If you want to call in tomorrow, let me know so I can tell Horac.’ 

More cheers from upstairs. As they echoed off the walls, Elle could hear another humming coming from deeper within the basement. It was followed by a loud snap, someone cracking the spine of a book.

Holding up her phone, she turned on the flashlight and saw a doorway at the opposite end of the room. 

The door was wide open. Something glinted as the light swept over it. 

Venturing closer, she saw that it was a strip of metal around a wooden bin. Blinking rapidly, she stared at them. They were all over the room, filled with various pieces of clothing. A few buttons and accessories sparkled when the light hit them. 

When she hovered in the doorway, she saw the area was filled from floor to ceiling with the bins. None of them seemed to have any sort of lid on them. There were a few folded up shirts and vests inside. More uniforms. The fabric was smeared with black sludge. 

She swept the light around the room, and jumped back when she saw white fangs. Reddish drool dripped between them. Nostrils flared on a scaled snout. A red eye with a slit pupil stared right at her.  

The light washed over it, and Elle realized it was a painting. A black scaled dragon who was perched on a pile of gold, his claws clenching the coins. 

“Greedy Mammon Guards His Lair.”   Was engraved on a golden plaque beneath it. 

While Elle had never seen the Prince or any of his proxies, it didn’t surprise her that they chose a dragon to represent him. It fit. A greedy creature to match the sin he was named after. 

Sighing, she shook her head. No wonder Ramses hadn’t told her about this place. He probably knew she would snoop around. Although the painting of the dragon was unexpected. The eyes bore into her accusingly. 

Rubbing her face, Elle tucked a few stray bangs behind her ears. It was late and the night was starting to get to her. 

The hum of power grew louder, almost tantalizingly so. Elle hesitated at the doorway. 

The fifteen minutes were up, and Elle flew back up the stairs. 

***

When the fights ended, the bar quickly cleared out. 

As she collected empty plates and cups, Elle sighed in relief.

Despite the exhaustion and aches rolling through almost every muscle, she felt good. Once she made it through the day shift, she was going to soak in the tub and not come out until she looked like a raisin. 

Once she’d gathered everything onto a tray she started to head back to the kitchen. The dishes rattled noisily with her movement now that the area was empty. 

Chorus chatted with a few ogres at the entrance, slowly shifting his body more and more to push them out of it. Then, one of the group caught sight of Elle and made a beeline for her. It was the one who had asked for her to make a bet. He held up a few shimmering coins between his fingers. Judging from his smile, he’d won. 

“You were right!” He said triumphantly. The reek of alcohol on him made Elle stagger back a step. Her eyes watered and she wished she could cover her nose. She debated setting the trays down and blinked rapidly, trying to clear up her vision. 

“Earthshaker got a second wind and took out Thunderhoof with a classic one two.” He mimed the punch, his fist whipping by her face. 

Elle flinched and the tray fell to the floor with a crash. 

“Elle!” Ramses was at her side in an instant. 

“You should probably go.” Chorus said, prodding the ogre on the shoulder. The claws sunk into the top few layers of skin and drew blood. The ogre winced, but quickly turned and left, leaving his winnings scattered all over the floor.  

“Are you alright?” 

She was being carried bridal style over to the bar. The words didn’t register, and she found her mouth opening and closing as she tried to respond. 

Ramses plunked her down on a stool. Grabbing another, he sat it in front of Elle and propped her left up on it. He pulled a rag from his belt. His fingers were warm as they touched her ankle, rolling it back and forth.

Putting a hand on her skirt, Elle kept the fabric from hiking up as he lifted up her leg and continued his inspection. A rumble that came from him made her hair stand on end. He caught himself, eyes wide.

“That wasn’t directed at you. That was…” He looked over his shoulder at the door. “I told you if a customer put their hands on you–”

“I’m fine.” She finally said, shaken out of her thoughts. “He didn’t touch me. He came close though.” 

White hot pain went up her right calf. Looking down, she saw blood dripping onto the floor. Crimson bloomed on her tights, seeping into the nylon. A few glass shards were sticking out of her leg. Despite the blood, it didn’t look terribly deep. 

Ramses moved quickly, plucking them dexterously. The glass shredded the gloves he was wearing, and his sludge began to drip onto the floor, mixing with her blood. 

She took the rag and held it to her leg as he went to the sink and washed off the worst of the sludge, discarding the gloves without a word. He sighed. 

“Do you want me to call a healer to come down here?” 

“After hours? No. I can’t afford that.” 

“Elle.” He said sharply, before sighing. “It’s a work injury, I’ll cover the cost.” He looked over his shoulder at Chorus, who had collected most of the dishes and swept the floor. The other demon paused in his work, leaning on a broom as he watched the two of them. 

“Go home, I’ll finish things up here.” 

Chorus nodded and left without another word. The lock clicked as he left. Thresholds snapped into place. The lights dimmed, and the last projections from the quartz crystals blinked out. They glowed with heat and magic, before dimming. 

“I have a first aid kit,” Ramses explained. “It’s… Potent. It can get the job done, but it’ll sting. Can you hold on long enough for me to get it?” 

“I’m cut, not helpless.” Blood seeped through the fabric and smeared on her fingers. There were still flares of pain, but at least she could collect her thoughts. She tossed the rag into the sink as Ramses handed her a new one. 

“I will call a healer if you want me to-” 

“No!” She insisted. “If you have a first aid kit, just use that.” So much paperwork and questions that she didn’t want to answer. It had taken so much to get the papers and documents needed to separate her from the academy and Adrian. 

“Okay. Stay right here.” He went down into the basement. 

Elle put her forehead to her knee, calf throbbing as she clutched it tight. Where was he expecting her to go? He could just follow the blood trail and see her hobbling away. That was assuming she was able to get anywhere before she collapsed from pain or lightheadedness. 

“You bound me with your blood, not power.” 

Elle jerked her head up, heart pounding. 

The lobby was empty. 

Sighing, she made a mental note to stick with days from now on. It seemed like the universe was telling her that she was biting off more than she could chew. 

Stripping off her tights, she winced as the nylon tugged at dried areas. She only just managed to get them off when Ramses was back, carrying her purse and a bright red bag with a medical logo on the side. 

He set the kit down on the counter and began to rifle through it, pulling on a fresh pair of gloves. 

“When are you planning on moving?” He suddenly asked.

“As soon as I have a place.” Elle lifted her leg and stopped squeezing the rag. The bleeding seemed to have stopped, or at least slowed down enough that she didn’t have to apply pressure. “I’ll try to make sure I get everything moved on a day I have off.” 

Ramses pulled the rag off. It stuck to Elle’s skin, and he winced apologetically when he had to pull it loose. Once he’d set it down and assembled a line of tools, he pulled off his vest and passed it over to her. 

She stared at it, raising a brow. 

“I’m going to be right between your legs.” He shook it insistently. “So you’re not exposed.” 

“I’m wearing underwear and you’ve seen me naked before.” Elle shrugged and resisted the urge to roll her eyes. She took the vest and laid it across her thighs. Of all the things to be worried about right now… 

“That was different,” Ramses insisted, starting to wipe off the dried blood. “You were drugged.” 

He shook a bottle against a gauze pad, still holding her leg with his other hand. His grip was tight enough that his hands were shaking. If he hadn’t been wearing gloves, it probably would have slipped out of his grip. 

“You make it sound so sinister.” Elle winced as he moved her leg to get a better look at it. “It wasn’t like–” 

“This will sting.” 

Before Elle could say not to worry, he pressed it to her calf. It was like he’d pressed a hot poker against the wound. She shrieked and heard a grunt as her foot connected with Ramses. 

There was a flash of white. The world spun, and she could smell something chemical in the air. As soon as it struck, it was gone just as quick. Slowly, the room came back into focus. 

Ramses had her right ankle on his shoulder. His other hand was wrapped around her left knee. A few buttons had popped off his shirt below the abdomen. Taking a few deep breaths, he looked at her injured leg. 

“Well, it works.” He dropped her ankle. The only evidence of the wound was a few smooth pink lines, maybe a finger’s width wide. 

And he was still clutching her knee. 

“Good thing I wasn’t wearing heels.” She forced out a nervous giggle. “Are you okay? I didn’t mean to kick you.” Judging by the location of the missing buttons, any lower would have incapacitated him and left them both up the creek without a paddle. 

“I’m durable.” Ramses sighed with a roll of his eyes. “If a kick from an injured woman is how I go down, then I deserve it. It would be a small bit of karma that I’m sure I have coming.” 

He shifted, seemed to realize that he was still holding her knee, and let it go. 

“You rest that leg. I’ll clean up.” He slipped away and started to put away the tools. 

Elle watched him. His words repeated over and over again in her mind. 

“Ramses… What happened wasn’t–”

“You can say it wasn’t my fault over and over again.” As he spoke, shadows moved across the wall. The air thrummed with power. 

“There was so much I could have done to prevent things from playing out the way they did. I failed you as an employer. And then Wrecks was attacked by another drider when he needed to be safe. Then, Horac had to deal with Ash all over again. I figure it will only be a matter of time before something happens to Chorus or Aki.” 

He sighed, staring down at the medical kit. 

“I keep saying I take care of my employees, but I wish that I could do more. Those underneath me should be able to trust that I’m…” 

Elle reached over and rested her hand on his forearm. She could feel the ichor stick to her fingers, but she didn’t pull away. 

“You’ve done more than you realize!” She smiled. “I’ve come a long way in the last year, and I have you to thank for it. You started quite the domino effect!I know everyone here would say the same! You gave Wrecks his freedom, helped Horac out of Temptation…” 

He reached across and put his hand on the back of hers. 

“Thank you, Elle.” He leaned forward and kissed her on the forehead. His lips lingered for a few seconds, before he pulled them away. 

They stared at one another, silence falling around them. 

“You should head home.” He turned away from her, putting his hands on the counter. 

“I’m going to be opening the cafe, remember?” Elle forced a smile and hopped off the stool. “So it’s okay if I help clean up.”

She took a couple steps, putting weight on her healed leg. Aside from some itching on her calf, there wasn’t any sign of injury. 

“See?” She stepped right on the mess at the floor and slipped. Windmilling, she skidded forward, managing to catch herself on one of the tables. Spinning around on the ball of her foot, Elle faced Ramses and put her hands on her hips. 

“I know you think you took advantage of me, but I’ve had a lot of fun. Even if I wasn’t your employee, I…” She struggled to find the words. Clasping her hands in front of her, she forced another smile. 

“I like you, Ramses. I told you I took this job for a reason. But I understand that you regret what you did. Just know that I wouldn’t have changed what happened.” She could only think of the heat, the emptiness that needed to be filled, and how she just needed to have something inside her. Even now, she was finding it hard to focus. 

“Maybe how… But…” 

He closed the distance between them. A wet hand cupped her cheek. Warmth dribbled down the curve of her neck and dripped down the front of the uniform. 

She stared up at him. Bringing up her hand, she ran from the base of his horn to the tip. She closed her fingers on the tapered end. 

He took her wrist and brought it to his lips, running his thumb over the inside of it. Fangs peeked out, the points barely scraping the vulnerable flesh. Warm breath rolled over her skin as his mouth traveled up, stopping at her sleeve. 

“What about the bar?” 

Ramses grip on her loosened and he brought his head back. 

“The mess isn’t going anywhere. But I understand.” He gave a slight nod, a blush creeping between his scales. "I got... Carried away."

His sighed.

"I know you don't think I took advantage, but some days... It's all I can think about. And knowing that you were only that way because of my negligence... It made me want to try and fix it. But I could never approach you about it. Because I'd know you'd always feel pressured to submit."

Elle stared at him, before shaking her head.

"You seem to think I lack agency, but I-" She cut herself off. What was she doing? He was vulnerable and she was taking advantage.

"I'm not under an influence now..." She let her voice trail off.

Fuck it, I’m not going to be getting any sleep anyway. 

Grabbing him by the horns, Elle stood on her toes and brought their lips together. His hands gripped the back of her vest and she heard the fabric of both articles of clothing rip. A cool breeze rolled over her now exposed skin. 

“...I’ll get you a new one.” Ramses promised as he started to kiss down the curve of her jaw and neck. The scraping of his fangs made her knees weak. So close to being able to tear her apart, but having the self control not to. 

He pinned her to the bar. The wood stuck to her back as he formed an arch over her. She stared up at the dim lights, rubbing her foot from his thigh up to the waist of his pants. 

Buttons scattered on the floor as he yanked the front of her shirt open, mouthing more of her collarbone and chest. He took the strap of her bra between his teeth, a few threads starting to fray under the point. His fingers explored under the cups. 

“Please,” She put a hand on his chest. The last syllable wavered as he started to circle her nipples. The sludge felt close enough to a mouth. 

His heart thrummed under her fingers, even through fabric. Warmth burned against her palm, and for an instant, there seemed to be a literal glow behind his shirt. 

“Don’t rip the bra apart. Unless you want to buy that one too.” Although she had a feeling that the sludge from his hands was going to be a pain to get out. 

He opened his mouth, and she put her finger over it. 

“And one more crack about you taking care of your employees and I’ll–” The protest died off as he went back to nibbling the v of her throat.

Soft moans escaped her as she tangled her hands in his hair, inhaling his scent and feeling the slickness of his sweat. His tongue rolled over her, leaving a glistening trail of saliva as he tasted every inch of skin he could find. 

“Fuck, you’re warm.” His hips rolled and he ground into her, the material of his pants rubbing against her inner thighs and panties. The motion betrayed his erection, which seemed to only grow harder as he continued. He traveled lower still, seizing her skirt and panties and pulling both down, then dumping them on the floor. Horns scraped against her legs, but she didn’t care. 

Warm breath tickled her folds, before his tongue followed. His hands wrapped around her thighs. She reached up and seized fistfuls of his hair as he continued to lap up her wetness, his moans sending a wave of heat through her. 

He raised her legs higher, his tongue slipping in and out with a rhythm she couldn’t follow, but it made her squirm, moan after moan escaping. 

“I didn’t get to do this right the first time, so allow me to correct it.” Ramses pumped faster, only pulling out to swirl it around her clit and suck. He didn’t slow down, only pulling her legs higher and further apart when she tried to escape, exposing her further. 

“Ramses!” She yelled, grabbing the bar so hard she could feel it shake when her palms slammed against it. Her white knuckled grip only grew tighter as his tongue  and lips increased their speed, a barrage that ripped an orgasm from her. 

She rocked her hips against him, her breaths becoming short and huffed. The colors in the room started to blur, before the quakes of pleasure hit and she could feel the aftershock. 

A bottle rolled, then shattered when it hit the ground behind the bar. 

Ramses snatched Elle up, his hand on the exposed small of her back as the odor of the alcohol started to waft through the air. His arms looped around her and she wrapped her legs around his waist. Her chest pressed against his, their hearts both racing. 

“I think it’s best if our activities continue elsewhere.” 

The thought of going anywhere, even just a quick walk down the road, made Elle ache. She groaned and buried her face in the curve of his neck, twisting her fingers in his hair and shirt. The emptiness needed to be filled now! 

Her back hit the wall, and Ramses mouth was on her again. She slid her fingers in the gap between his shirt buttons and tugged, exposing a strip of skin to the dim light of the quartz. 

He leaned her against the wood and attempted to unbutton his shirt with shaking hands, leaving black smudges all over it. Elle greedily seized it, about to tear it open like he’d done to her, but they simply fell loose. 

More scales glimmered on Ramses’ abdomen. The sludge on his hands seemed to stop at his shoulders, marbling black in with the skin. The veins and indent of his sternum glowed with heat, like magma below the ground’s surface. When she traced her fingers over it, the light seemed to spread, becoming brighter and dimmer with each heartbeat. 

His belt’s buckle jingled when his pants hit the floor. A dripping hardness brushed against her soaked sex, and she let out another shuddering moan. With a bit of adjustment, he managed to get his cock out. The head prodded at her, and Elle threw her arms around Ramses’ neck and lowered herself down. It slipped inside, and Ramses’ hands slapped the wall behind her as he let out an appreciative groan. 

She could hear nails scrape the wood as he brought his hand down, a few shavings falling to the floor around them. His hot breath on her neck sent more arousal down her body. 

He held her tight as his hips rolled, stray strands of hair tickling her bare skin. 

“Elle,” He whispered into her shoulder, nails scraping between her shoulder blades. 

Another shuddering gasp escaped as she arched her back, crushing them together further. Grabbing a fistful of his hair, she pulled him to face her. His eyes gleamed in the dark. 

Bringing their lips together, she moaned into his mouth as the thrusts sped up, filling the silence with the sounds of her wetness. Their gasps and sighs echoed in the lobby, the silvery light of the moon peeking through the windows above in the loft. 

His cock twitched and he hilted, his pubic bone grinding against her clit. The motion sent another climax through her and she felt herself go limp against him as he began to drip onto the floor. Fingers brushed the nape of her neck as he planted a kiss on her temple, leaning on his elbows as he took in a few breaths to steady himself. 

She wasn’t sure how long they stayed like that, but he peeled them both off the wall and took her to a booth. 

***

“Shepard.” Wrecks was shaking her. 

Elle gasped awake and went to shield herself from being exposed, but she’d been redressed in a new nighttime uniform. The lobby and area around them was spotless. 

“Did you sleep here!?” Horac shouted from the kitchen as ovens began to roar. 

“You never got back to us,” Aki chided. “I told you that you’re working too much.” 

“What can I say?” Elle yawned and stretched. “There’s a lot of perks to this job.”  

You can read the next part here!

[severalowls]

Look I'm extremely pro-luigi but some of the posts about how he's "the wrong guy" are fully nuts conspiracy shit.

"It was a different jacket" yes, the surveillance picture where you can see his face is from the night before, when he checked in to a hotel. Having a backup jacket and backpack to ditch (which he did, in central park) is like the most basic thing you can do to evade identification.

"He looks different" People look different from different angles and especially different lenses. This is basic shit yet its still the basis for shit like "Avril Lavigne was replaced by a lookalike" stuff

"He said police planted evidence" yes, but please don't just read headlines. The planted evidence was 1. Large amounts of cash, which would potentially increase the severity of the crime 2. A 'sophisticated' backpack, which is just completely nonsense it was probably just expensive. They're using both of these things to inflate a case of him being some kind of professional assassin or danger to society. This is the part that he is denying. Because it's bullshit, it's inflated, and its extremely deniable. But...

"Why was he carrying a manifesto and the gun and all that other stuff, why not dump it" now I'm not Luigi any more than the next poster, but when you escape from a high profile assassination in a major city, and are on an intercity bus which by some miracle, has not been stopped by the police for like 3 days your paranoia is through the roof. It doesn't calm down, it just gets worse as the improbability increases. I imagine the mental space to be similar to my great grandfather's friends, who escaped a prisoner of war camp in fascist italy, and those few weeks on the run left them on edge, moments from being caught, for the rest of their lives. Compare his remarkable calmness "in the moment" vs descriptions of him visibly shaking when approached by the cops.

So the gun is either 'security' or, my initial assumption was that he was heading to another city to do another one but that is likely the narrative the prosecution will try to construct.

The manifesto is also security. He was up against the nypd, who recently shot about 4 bystanders over a subway fare. If he was gunned down, he needed to be able to communicate his motivations weren't just (as I've seen some clown on here say) "wanted to kill somebody"

"The manifesto is terrible" yeah its pretty weak, its not impossible that it's fabricated but its also possible it's of the "written on his phone while on the run" variety, see above point.

"Why was he in a McDonald's" he had been on the run for days, the places that greyhound buses stop are irregular and also stupid. He didn't come out of hiding and pop down the road for a big mac. As noted above, he may not have planned not to be caught, and have overestimated the nypd.

"He's innocent until proven guilty" yeah thats how the US justice system works. He's innocent of the crime, particularly of terrorism. Does this mean that physically literally he didn't cause bullets to enter a CEO who subsequently died of bullet wounds? No, honestly, he almost certainly did that. It remains to be seen whether, legally, this makes him either a murderer and/or a terrorist. People who demonstrably shot bullets into a person who then died are acquitted on a regular basis, though most of them are cops.

[cryinginthefkncorner]

So I’m in ED recovery and also fat, and have been reading “The Diet Myth” by Paul Campos.

In the beginning of the book he talks about how Americans have an “Anorexic World Lenses” that they are seeing the concepts of health and wellness through, mainly thanks in part to the diet industry and pharmaceutical lobbying groups that are filled with what he refers to as “anti-fat warriors.”

And reading about his anorexic world lenses theory makes a lot of things make sense. especially when it comes to fat people recovering from restrictive eating disorders.

These anti-fat warriors will scream about how people who are fat during or after recovery just “swapped one ED for another” (implying that a person is now binge eating to the point of having BED instead of restricting to the point of AAN).

While this can be the case for some, If the person who is recovering is working with a care team they most likely are not binging. It’s just a 8” to 10” plate, filled with carbs, protein, and fruit or veg with little white space on a plate (common way to portion food to make sure a meal is actually a meal in ED recovery) is so foreign to them, that they think a normal meal constitutes “over eating”.

They personally don’t eat that much (because they bought into the bogus, manipulated science and stats from the weight loss industry hook, line, and sinker) because they don’t want to be “fat and die young” (<- a myth with little scientific backing btw) so a fat person eating a normal amount of obviously bingeing, and needs to stop.

And they’ll scream this perception at fat people in recovery, because how dare they start learning to accept size differences, how dare they accept their body no matter how it turns out! Why aren’t they buying into the big pharma propaganda!?! Why aren’t they destroying their livers and GI tracts with Ozempic and metformin for a few pounds of weight loss?! Why aren’t they following the script?!

It’s a typical freak out akin to what I felt when I saw the number on the scale increase by half a pound when I was deep in my eating disorder.

The anorexic world lenses is very real, it’s what causes us to label an average hight woman at a typical weight “ob*se”, it’s the system that labels people like George Clooney and Dwayne “the rock” Johnson as “ob*se”.

It’s the system used by our government to justify torturing fat people with drugs they don’t need for minimal weight loss so they can determine who is the compliant fat and who is the “bad” fat who has seen through the BS.

Anyway, I highly recommend the book as of right now, and if wanted I will post more as I read more.

[techs-goggles9902]

Can you do at Tech lives fan-fic (like if Tech is CX-2)??

CX-2 is all that remains

Warnings: prosthetic stuff, mentions of blood and stuff, contact lenses 💀 scars and stuff, bacta usage, memory issues (ik nothing super bad but what if you had a fear of contacts??) TBB SPOILERS

Word count: 1457 (WHOA I WENT OVERBOARD)

A/N: IM SO SORRY I TOOK SO LONG ANON. I genuinely love the bad batch but I HATE WRITING THEM SOMETIMES 😭 I feel like I’m butchering their characters. But I gotchuuuuu!!! Lmk if I should continue this.

Requests are open! See Masterlist for details!!!!

IMPORTANT NOTE: some of this was supposed to be italicized but my copy and pasting removes it, so some of this stuff are their thoughts. Just an FYI

“You recognized it, too,” Hunter whispers to Crosshair as the group hurries up the rocks.

”I did. You said he died on Eriadu,” the sniper replies in a low mumble.

“He did… Wrecker watched him fall.”

”Well, obviously he survived. Next move?”

”Follow through with the plan, Cross. I’ll have Echo double back and take us down there.”

”But… it’s him?”

Hunter pauses. When he speaks, his voice cracks, “Tech’s alive. And with the Empire.”

Tech - no, CX-2! He had to get used to that - needs to get out of the water, and fast. The current pulls at him as he grips a narrow rock beneath the surface.

His helmet can only keep him alive for so long, he needs air sooner rather than later.

This isn’t ideal. The cybernetics will never last if their circuits are drenched.

His slender fingers lose their grip on the rock. One, two, three. The Shadow loses his grip entirely, his gloves ripped apart at the seams as the sharp ridges cut into the calloused flesh of his fingers.

The current throws him back into another rock, his backpack absorbing most of the impact.

There, he thinks as the water starts to seep into his body suit, I just need to make it to that ledge and my odds of survival increase significantly.

He feels his cybernetics digging into the tender flesh of his legs. The part where the river meets land was so close, yet so far. Reaching out a bloody hand, his shredded fingers are met with rough sediment.

Finally…

”Echo, Rex, please. It’s him! I feel it,” Hunter says, trying to keep Echo from making the jump into hyperspace.

“Hunter, what if it’s n-”

”Rex, your buddy isn’t coming after us. He let us go. There’s no risk in going down there,” Crosshair cuts in. Echo and Rex glance at each other.

Rex, Echo’s expression says, what if…

Echo, Rex’s body language reads, you said it yourself. He’s gone.

You didn’t give up on me.

Rex’s gaze softens. “Fine. You have ten minutes.”

Hunter lets out a breath, clasping Rex’s shoulder. He says, “I owe you.”

”You owe me a lot, Sarge.”

Echo lands the ship just off the riverbank but is still hidden in the trees in case Wolffe changes his mind. The ramp opens with a soft hiss and plants itself on the rocks with a gentle thud. The river laps against the rocks like white noise, the water running down the cliff adds to the effect.

And there, lying on the rocks, still half in the water, lies the Shadow. Barely conscious and panting, his bloodied fingers groping the sediment.

“Maker… Gregor, get the med kit!” Echo yells back into the ship as Hunter, Crosshair, and Wrecker trip over themselves to get down to the riverbank.

“Shit… Hunter, is he…” Wrecker asks in a low tone, kneeling down beside the semiconscious clone.

“His heart’s beating,” the sergeant replies.

“Damn… Wrecker, can you get him on the ship? Gently?” Echo asks, leaning down to check the assassin’s pulse.

“I got him.” Wrecker slowly turns the clone onto his back and snakes an arm beneath his knees and back. “I gotcha, I gotcha…”

CX-2 feels himself being lifted up off the ground, his helmet removed, his head resting on someone’s shoulder plate. He hears voices calling out to him, hands lowering him down onto something somewhat comfortable. A bunk?

His armor taken off his wet bodysuit, said bodysuit is either peeled or cut away from his body.

“Cybernetics aren’t the best quality… just a pawn in Hemlock’s game,” a gruff voice says.

“Oh, Tech…” a softer voice says.

“I told you that you should’ve taken medic training,” a different voice comments. A scoff follows.

“Stow it, Cross.” Cross… that seems so familiar to CX-2. All the voices do, even the soft, feminine one. A warm liquid oozes out of where prosthetics meet flesh. Blood.

“Shit, Gregor, hand me the gauze,” He knows this voice…

“Echo, keep pressure. I’m getting him bacta,” Echo… warm hands trail down his body, checking for further injuries.

“Crap… these prosthetics are absolute trash, I should know. Not even connected properly… Tech, if you were awake to see this mess…” the voice, Echo, scoffs. CX-2 hears a smile in his voice.

“Are…are they as good as yours?” CX-2 hears his own voice ask that. He doesn’t know why he said that. In fact, his mouth moved on its own accord. All sounds around him cease and everything’s quiet except the soft hum of the ship.

“I… no, sorry, bud…mine are cooler,” Echo responds. CX-2 feels a subtle smile tugging at his own lips. Why? These are the enemy. Someone tends to his mangled hands, cleaning them and wrapping them tenderly.

“Tech…” CX-2 hears that name being called over and over again. Whispered in his ear. Murmured into his forehead as soft lips make contact with the scarred skin. Breathed into his hands as someone holds them gently.

His eyes open, just for a moment, meeting the gaze of five pairs of brown eyes. “Tech is gone,” he says. “CX-2 is all that remains…” He’s out like a light a second later.

Hunter’s heart felt like it was stabbed, trampled, cut out of his chest, and thrown out onto a rock to die. Tech is gone… the words echo through his mind all the way back to Pabu. This wasn’t the reunion he had in mind when he realized the Shadow was actually his little brother.

Crosshair doesn’t know how to feel. He abandoned his squad, his family, for the Empire. Is this karma, he thought.

Nonsense, Tech’s voice whispers in his head, this has nothing to do with you. The rational explanation is that the Empire succeeded in turning me into an assassin where they failed to turn you. Do not blame yourself, Crosshair. There was nothing you could do to stop this.

But I could’ve known, Crosshair’s voice whispers back to Tech’s, we would’ve been at Tantiss together.

And how could you possibly have known that, Cross?

Wrecker just tries to keep Omega away from their unconscious brother. “He needs his rest, Meg.”

“I won’t leave until he wakes up,” the blonde replies, crossing her arms. “I’m not bothering him, anyway.”

Wrecker sighs, placing a hand on her scrawny shoulder. He mutters, “Tech’s always been the one to take care of us… it’s weird that we’re taking care of him.”

“I know… what did he mean by ‘Tech’s gone’?”

“I… I don’t know. Cross said the Empire erases their previous lives while they turn them into… this. He’ll pull through and we’ll be losing to him in dejarik in no time.”

Echo was confused. Tech had just asked him about his cybernetics, meaning he did in fact remember them, at least somewhat. He stares out the viewport in the cockpit, his fingers picking at his scomp link. Tech always hated when he did that.

The next time CX-2 resurfaces, he’s staring up at a - wooden? - ceiling, definitely not a ship’s. A house? Hut? Cabin? He groans, lifting a hand up to pinch the scarred bridge of his nose. His face was littered with thick, ragged scars. Ever since Eriadu.

He looks at his hand in surprise as he sees its bandage has been changed recently. Where is he? CX-2 sits up slowly, orienting himself as he goes. The room is warm, small but not small enough that you feel claustrophobic. A window is above the bed he’s currently lying on, soft light filtering through the translucent curtains. He strains his neck to peer out of it.

Pabu…

He gets off the bed, looking down at his prosthetics, which start just below the knee. They’re sturdier as he stands and they don’t restrict his movement like they used to. They’re… comfortable.

He quietly - as quiet as you can get with two durasteel feet - leaves the room, examining the hallway. A kitchen is down the hall, so he heads there. Wincing, he looks around the corner to see if anyone’s there.

There is.

Crosshair…

“C’mere, Tech,” the sniper says, gesturing to the seat at the island beside him. CX-2 hobbles over to it, taking a seat silently.

“I’m not the brother you remember,” he rasps, looking out the window.

“No shit… no goggles?”

“Hemlock thought I should wear contacts so the goggles don’t break out on a mission.”

Crosshair hums in response.

“Why did you come back?”

The sniper takes a moment to respond, “Couldn’t leave you behind.”

It’s CX-2’s - no, Tech’s - turn to hum in response. He feels Crosshair leaning against him slightly.

“You’re not who you used to be, but we’ll get there. Right?”

“Possibly.”

Crosshair scoffs, “Good to have you back.”

Taglist: @will-is-silly @fionajames @sevdidntdie @hellhound5925 @dangraccoon @skellymom

Please let me know if you want to be taken off or join the list!!!

[blindbeta]

hi! i'm currently writing a blind character in a futuristic sci-fi setting (think fifth element). some backstory just so there's additional context: she's orphaned as a baby, and while very young, contracts a virus that leaves her with minimal light and shadow perception. she later gets adopted, and her father acts as her guide until she's 12. when she turns 12, she's gifted a droid who acts as her mobility aid (visually, her droid is similar in design/size of r2-d2 from star wars). i thought this fit the futuristic setting. here's my question. originally, i had her (let's call her C) commission a special pair of glasses that connect to her droid so it can see what she sees and better help it guide her in public spaces, especially if it's too loud for her to hear it or if they get separated somehow, because the glasses have an auditory link for them to communicate with each other. after doing more research, i've learned that the "blind character covering their eyes" trope is super common and kind of looked down upon in the blind community. i'm really worried now, as someone sighted, that i've fallen for it by designing C's mobility aid this way. have i? and if i have, what is some advice or tips for ways i could alter this to where it doesn't come across as trope-y? should i get rid of the glasses, scrap the droid idea completely, etc?

Guide Droid And Character Covering Her Eyes With Glasses

The glasses remind me a bit of the OrCam My Eye, which is a pair glasses and an ear piece. You have an already-existing precedent for this. Additionally, my main concern with covering eyes, which I discuss here, [link], is that there is often no thought or explanation behind why a character’s eyes must be covered. Narratives often twist themselves into knots simply to cover a blind person’s eyes with something like sunglasses or a blindfold, which the character never removes.

Regular glasses are, however, a different story. Regular glasses are transparent. They are usually for protection of the eyes. They may also make objects slightly clearer, which can reduce eye strain. Not that your character will need to worry about that.

The glasses are not able to correct vision. They serve a purpose, and one that isn’t covering the person’s eyes.

My suggestion is to provide an explanation for the glasses and make sure they are see-through. They shouldn’t be sunglasses unless she has transition lenses, which can protect her from damaging UV rays.

The key is not to cover up your character’s eyes. Especially for no particular reason.

However, if you are worried about the glasses, you can also simply have bone-conducting ear piece that sits on top of her ear. Avoid implants or anything that might disrupt her hearing or other senses.

The Guide Droid

Speaking of senses, having a droid as her guide means she will miss out on a lot of tactile information provided by a cane and, to a lesser extent, a guide dog. For example, a handler can feel elevation.

Walking behind a droid is not going to provide that same information.

Yes, there is a step down, but where? Is it an even step or does it curve? Are the steps the same width?

I suggest giving her a cane, as they can be used with sighted guide and to a lesser degree, service animals. Her using a cane won’t interfere with a droid the same way it might with a guide dog or horse.

Alternatively, you can also find a way to connect them so she can get tactile information. Another, cuter option might be a droid service animal with a more futuristic harness.

About Using Sighted Guide Until She is 12

Something about this bothers me.

Sighted guide is a legitimate form of O&M and can increase independence in a way only blind folks can relate to. I also know that sighted guide may be more encouraged in some cultures that value interdependence. Sighted guide is a great and should be used more in fiction. I personally prefer it in unfamiliar areas and at night time.

However, it also feels off to me that she so happens to use a human guide all her life and not a cane. It may be because I am imagining times where her father may not be able to accompany her. Or perhaps I am sensitive to the lack of mobility aids in fiction that feature blind characters.

Lastly, cane skills are a part of O&M, which is needed before being able to work properly with a guide animal. I think she should have at least some cane skills and some navigation techniques even if she prefers to have her father guide her. This also gives her more agency to experiment and choose what is comfortable for her.

Here is a post I made about mobility aids that might help.

I hope this helps.

[ysociety]

Very cool photos, I love all of them… I recently bought my first camera and I’m enjoiing it so much. For night photography you need to increase your ISO to much right?

Thank you! It all varies. You can increase, shutter, iso, fstop. I try and keep iso on the lower side to reduce the amount of noise I’m getting for night time images. A lens with a 0.95/1.2/1.4/2.8 fstop will help tons with your night time photography. They tend to be on the pricier side, but if you’re shooting mirrorless, you can always buy converters for older lenses with those sorts of fstops and tend to be on the cheaper side on ebay. Down side is, you’d be shooting manual, but it’s the best way to get familiar with your cameras depth/distance. Good luck.