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motor-1-ous · 2 years ago

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BCBS Association,

bit.ly/Cord_CB_CR | https://www.nytimes.com/1981/07/03/us/rare-cancer-seen-in-41-homosexuals.html | Kaposis Sarcoma; ARC: AIDS Related Complex; Multiple Opporrtunistic Infections beginning with Shinglea: 2015.16.02 | HIT Syndrome: Heparin Induced Thrombocytopeniahttps://www.mountsinai.org/locations/union-square (two weeks of IV Heparin when I don’t have a clotting disorder); Intestinal Hemmorrhage: https://www.mayoclinic.org/diseases-conditions/gastrointestinal-bleeding/symptoms-causes/syc-20372729 ; Squamous Cell Carcinoma (Rectal Cancer); treated with Full Body Radiation and Oral/IV Chemo (rather than surguical resection) after the creation of an implant; which according to your Denial: https://doctor.webmd.com/doctor/ayodeji-fayemi-288b828c-dec5-11e7-9f4c-005056a225bf-overview. Raffi Kabbariti, MD (Montifiore Hospital: where my mother was a radiologist on staff: https://doctor.webmd.com/doctor/ayodeji-fayemi-288b828c-dec5-11e7-9f4c-005056a225bf-overview

https://www.mayoclinic.org/diseases-conditions/supraventricular-tachycardia/symptoms-causes/syc-20355243

The first time it happened, my father https://www.researchgate.net/profile/Alfred-Fayemi drove me to the ER at about two in the morning: https://www.wphospital.org/services/emergency-room/

The second time, it happened in the machine: 200-250 bpm; requiring emergency

www.mayoclinic.org/tests-procedures/cardiac-ablation/about/pac-20384993

The only reason we are still talking, is that you cover STEM CELL THERAPY/Transplants, which have to be cheaper than covering PrEP for life, in order that a bunch of homosexual men can be PREVENTED from catching it; while the Global Epidemic rages, afflicting mostly Black/Latino men/women and other heterosexuals EVERYwHERE: except Europe and among heterosexuals of European descent.

Please call me 646-941-0698; or return email. What I need IMMEDIATELY is all of the numbers on the front of my card necessary to fill a prescription at the pharmacy tonight (next hour) ideally.

Thank you very much:

Wolé M Fayemi

SSN: 051-60-0659

Medicaid: SWJ52963N

Medicare: ?

Footnotes:

[1] Attached images: Spots on my bicep, testes. I thought I might be turning into a leopard, but it’s either an allergic skin reaction to bactrim (PCP Prophylaxis) or KS Lesion.

[2] Implant designed by Raffi Kabbariti MD, who’s purpose is to direct radiation to the heart (where I already had a loop recorder implanted) for bradycardia. The machine and much of my wardrobe was thrown out in trash bags in Brooklyn (Williamsburg) icvc-nevada-blog.tumblr.com. Maimomedes ER treated me for an ear infection; told me I was infected with COVID-19 (first of two times); vaccinated 3 times. I’ve had COPD and multiple episodes of syncope; a colonoscopy with unsterile equipment led to a wicked intestinal infection which required hospitalization.

Depakote and Wellbutrin (and Zoloft), Valcyclovir; Marinol (Sunrise Medical: Brooklyn and Jedediah Burack, MD) performed a Visible Genetics TruGene: Test | TAG Line: resistance is futile to determine what mutations I may have (K103) which might lead to resistant strains of virus to various classes of anti-virals.

My medical records were stolen by a cashier in Walgreens, Union Square, which somehow made it to the CEO who met with President Bush. Little did they know that I routinely “spammed” my email broadcast fax list.: https://www.wsj.com/articles/SB105633607593064000[3]

1 Combivir: AZT + 3TC (Biochem Pharma): Tim Wilson, PhD; UBS Biotech Analyst

2 Protease Inhibitor: Ritanivir (side effects: tingling/numbness lips); nausea & vomiting (full stomach require, but get ready to hurl)

[3] Legal definition of SPAM: a randomly generated list of possible email addresses; used by direct marketers to try to induce you to buy something you probably don’t need. #PitneyBowes pb.com | easily thwarted by an eStamp: usps.com for ALL email messages.

https://www.wsj.com/articles/SB105633607593064000

[email protected]

https://www.reuters.com/article/us-microsoft/microsoft-bids-44-6-billion-to-buy-yahoo-idUSWNAS89422008020

Nostalgia, Gratitude & Optimism

The Yahoo-Verizon transaction closed this morning. Here’s the email that I sent to company, looking back at the last 5 years and the company’s whole history.

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323 days ago, we announced that Verizon would be acquiring Yahoo’s operating business. Today, I can announce that the transaction has officially closed. While reaching this moment has certainly been a long road traveled, it marks the end of an era for Yahoo, as well as the beginning of a new chapter – it’s an emotional time for all of us. Given the inherent changes to my role, I’ll be leaving the company. However, I want all of you to know that I’m brimming with nostalgia, gratitude, and optimism.

It’s been my great honor and privilege to be a part of this team for the last 5 years. Together, we have rebuilt, reinvented, strengthened, and modernized our products, our business, and our company.

Looking back on my time at Yahoo, we have confronted seemingly insurmountable business challenges, along with many surprise twists and turns. I’ve seen our teams navigate these hurdles and mountains in ways that have not only made Yahoo a better company, but also made all of us far stronger. During these past 5 years, we’ve built products that delight our users, focused on our clients’ businesses, driven substantial value for our shareholders, and endeavored to make Yahoo the absolute best place to work. I want to take a moment to remind you of some of our many achievements together. They are remarkable, and we should all be very proud.

To our users: We have enhanced our products to be far more modern and engaging, especially for mobile

We became 1 of 3 internet companies in the world with more than 1B monthly users

We grew our monthly mobile users to more than 650M (one of the largest in the world) by launching and improving our products for mobile devices

We dramatically focused our product strategy, dispensing 150+ subscale products and features

We invested in search, building an offering that drew on strengths from Microsoft, Google and Yahoo, to provide dramatically improved search to our users and attract impactful partnerships, like Mozilla

We fundamentally improved Yahoo Mail, completely rewriting much of the infrastructure to provide a far more flexible and reliable system, while creating a robust mobile offering. Mobile Mail recently surpassed desktop Mail in daily users, which shows the power of the product and the platform we reinvented

We invested in our homepage and key verticals – news, sports, finance, and lifestyles – with each remaining as the go-to destinations in their categories. And, they have found new followings on mobile through the Yahoo app, Yahoo Finance, Yahoo Sports, and Yahoo Fantasy. It’s hard to believe, but, in 2012, we didn’t have any of these 4 now-cornerstone apps on iOS or Android, we weren’t developing native apps, and we didn’t use these sought-after brands outside of desktop. Today, our users collectively spend an equivalent of 1,400 years on these products EVERY day.

We bolstered our security defenses with cross-company initiatives like SSL, HTML5, Account Key, and HTTPS

We committed to and invested in technical excellence in our architectures, reducing user-impacting incidents by more than half over the past 5 years

We won 2 Apple Design Awards in 2013 and 2014, and put unified product design front and center with Fuji

To our advertisers: We completely rebuilt our advertising business, putting our clients first

We rebuilt Yahoo’s ad tech around the fastest growing areas of digital advertising - mobile, video, native, and social (the Mavens)

We delivered $2B+ in Mavens GAAP Revenue last year (42% of Yahoo’s revenue!) up 10x from $200M in 2012 and essentially zero in 2011

Our GAAP mobile revenue last year was nearly $1.5B, making us one of the largest mobile ad platforms in the world

We pioneered Yahoo Gemini native and search ads, completely from scratch, now generating more than $1B in revenue annually

We acquired BrightRoll and Flurry to generate substantial new revenue streams in areas that aligned with our strategic growth areas of video and mobile

We dramatically streamlined our ad product suite, improved the functions of our auctions and exchanges, and made our ad formats work better for our advertisers while enhancing the design of our products

To our shareholders: Our stock has hit a 17-year high, more than tripling since July 2012

We oversaw the creation $43B in market capitalization and shareholder value. Our market cap has gone from $18B to $51B (increasing our valuation by $33B), while we returned nearly $10B in cash to shareholders.

We bought back 27% of our outstanding shares at an average price of $28.64. This scale of buyback is nearly unprecedented in its size, efficiency and accretion.

We negotiated the ability to retain an additional 122M Alibaba shares after the IPO. Today, those shares are worth an additional $9B beyond the IPO price.

We generated more than $800M in cash by licensing and selling non-core patents and real estate

We rebuilt Yahoo with the most efficient workforce and operated with the lowest cost structure in more than a decade

To our employees: We’ve helped bring to life the best of Yahoo’s culture

We increased transparency, accountability, and innovation with FYI, Corporate Goals, PB&J, and Hackdays

We expanded benefits including free food, extended maternity and paternity leave, and encouraged using Yahoo products by providing smartphones for our employees

We prioritized leadership empowerment, diversity & inclusion, and giving back with Yahoo for Good

We strategically reshaped our technical and sales talent, with a workforce that became 48% tech and 25% sales

As I look back on these achievements, I want to sincerely thank every single Yahoo employee, past and present, for your contributions both large and small. I’m tremendously grateful for all of the hard work and the many sacrifices you’ve made. We always endeavored to do the right thing for our users, advertisers, shareholders, and fellow Yahoos. This has required the most impressive displays of teamwork, innovation, and resilience I’ve ever seen, and working with you has made my time as CEO nothing short of a privilege.

Finally, I want to thank our founders, Filo and Jerry. Every entrepreneur’s wildest dream is to change the world with their ideas, and you’ve done just that. From day one, your tenacity and whimsy helped create one of the most special companies of all time – one that has employed more than 175,000 people, generated over $77B in revenue, and has informed, connected, and entertained a large portion of humanity. You’ve inspired all of us with your brilliance, values, and passion, and I will forever be in awe of you and I will forever be your biggest fan :-)

Yaho-o-oo!

Marissa

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tennessoui · 2 months ago

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incredibly self-insert at the moment but

silly lil completely normal and understandable au where anakin moves to a new country and he's got most all of the complex paperwork and documentation sorted so he thinks he's doing great but for some reason he cannot for the life of him figure out how to use the appliances in his apartment. and this is doubly gutting because he's usually very good at this sort of thing! he has a degree in chemical engineering for gods sake, why can't he logic out how to turn on his shower or unlock the washing machine after a wash cycle???

not one to admit defeat, he googles basic questions like 'how turn on radiator stewjon' and 'common oven hieroglyphs stewjon' and finds this youtube channel where this older (hot hot very attractive hot) man named obi-wan films himself doing basic things like going to the store and messing about with his car's oil and also explaining basic appliances and how they work in stewjon

and anakin is addicted. he is in love. he watches all of them. he doesn't even own an iron but now he knows how to use a stewjoni one and obi-wan even gave him tips about how to look his best (like what colors go together and how he should never wear brown shoes with black pants, etc)

meanwhile obi-wan kenobi had to make these videos like five years ago as community service for some minor crime (like murdering his neighbor's plants because they kept getting pollen on his car) and he's very confused when he opens his mailbox one day to a piece of...fan mail?

#kit's silly lil aus #obikin #obi-wan of course is old and crotchety and knows nothing about internet safety #so his address was incredibly easy for anakin to find #for fanmail purposes #surprisingly mr kenobi is not reassured by this fact #when anakin tells him earnestly #anyway yeah ive had to google all these questions #to different levels of effectiveness #my radiator is still not on tho #al on youtube has failed me #or even worse #i have failed al on youtube

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dreamauri · 1 year ago

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♪ — 𝗧𝗛𝗘 𝗗𝗔𝗬 𝗧𝗛𝗘 𝗠𝗨𝗦𝗜𝗖 𝗗𝗜𝗘𝗗 - part two max verstappen x girlfriend! driver! reader (angst) “. . . you were close to wining your first world title, until you weren't.”

( fic master list | general master list ) ( previous | next )

You arrived at the track with your parents, each at either of your sides, talking you through the weekend like it was your first time as you made your way to the paddock. You were exhausted. You've been trying to improve yourself all winter break. You wouldn't even consider it a break from all the training you’ve been doing.

The only good thing out of this was that your parents were agreeing on something ( which was treating you like an idiot who was ruining their image ). Although divorced, they still came to watch your every race and coached you through everything. They might have not been the best parents, instead of providing you with what you needed as a kid and adult, you were tweaked and regularly maintained into becoming a machine.

And it was paying off, you had successfully delivered a grand slam. Fatigue finally caught up to you as you slowed down to complete the cool down lap. You could hear booing from the grandstands. The hate from last season was still there. Claiming you were wasting money for losing the championship, suing the FiA, and for car damages. And that all that could've been avoided if you just opened your eyes and dodged the derbies.

And you of course, let the hate get to you. You drove by on the track, watching as many people cupped their mouths shouting your name and throwing thumbs down, the middle fingers, and other vulgar insults. This was a reaction you were quite used to as a female driver. What you weren't used to was the black liquid splashing onto you.

In quick reaction time, you were able to flip your visor up to see the track. But you were not ready to react to the second splash, a larger dosage this time. The unidentified chemical burned your eyes. Your first instance was to pull over and get out. You stumbled with the seat belt before running eyes closed to where you remembered you last saw marshals.

And that was another mistake. Your assailant was able to get to you before the marshals did. He tackled you down, shouting in your ear. His assault was short lived to your fortune. Max had stopped by your side and pulled him off you, delivering a good punch and pinning him to the ground.

Your eyes were washed out with water quickly after, helping you recover most of your vision. You spent your podium celebration in the hospital, getting your eyes treated.

Your parents fought in the background and you listened as the nurse applied droplets on your eyes. Your sight was weakened and sensitised. You were not going to be able to race next week, which hurt more than the whole incident.

later that night, Max successfully sneaked in to see you, scared to be caught by your parents or by paparazzi, or any other driver for that matter. No one needed to know how close you two had become. no one. you didn't need anyone up either your asses.

He was sitting on a chair beside your bed, bushing strands of hair off your face as you listened to the race on the TV, laying on your side quietly. "I'm so proud of you for being so strong, lieveling." [sweetheart] He whispered to you.

You opened your eyes for the first time, looking him straight in his gorgeous blue ones with an empty expression on your face. You sighed, leaning up and pressing your forehead against his. A gesture you two had developed throughout your relationship.

Max was quick to lean into your touch, cupping the back of your head gently to keep you close to him. You were so preciouses to him, it got him so scared he thought his soul would jump on his body. He was quick to react when he saw what happened, jumping out of the car and pulling the guy off you.

Seeing you so weak and hurting on the ground, Max wanted to do worse. It took all of his strength to hold himself back.

"Will she cross it first? And, yes she does! A great start of the season for Porsche with their star driver winning!" David Croft's voice came from the television. You pulled away from Max's touch to watch and see what happens next ( even though you knew ).

Max was quick to cover your eyes, gently pushing you back down on your side to rest. "I thought you said the doctor told you to avoid looking at screens and bright light." He reminded her, only receiving a scoff before you closed your eyes again.

"What's he doing here? There's a person right there- Oh! They- they dumped some sort of liquid on-" "OH SHIT." Max watched the footage, raging at the sight of the other man hurting you.

"That's Verstappen's car- Is he? Oh! Right in the face." “Bloody hell.” You sighed listening, reaching forward in search of the blonde's hand. You were grateful that he held yours instantly, intertwining your fingers together. "Max Verstappen ladies and gentlemen. The marshals will-" The television was turned off, giving you a moment with max.

★ ☆ ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

"Couldn't we go through a back door maybe?" To say you were scared was an understanding. Walking behind your parents in the paddock, you made sure you were all covered, too scared to face another rogue person. Sunglasses, cap, long sleeves, baggy pants.

"You're Porsche's golden girl." Your mother reminded you, rolling her eyes. "Stop being a pussy. And don't make me walk next to him." Your mother pulled you in between herself and your father, rotating your cap backwards to make you look less scared.

Your father only scoffed, starting a bicker with your mother as he wrapped an arm around your shoulder in an attempt to comfort you. You sighed, making eye contact with Max as you passed him.

Everyone was pretty sure you would end up strangling someone at this point, they could tell you were losing your cool. You weren't that same girl from last year and at some point you were going to snap, maybe sooner than expected.

Anger was bubbling inside you as you took off your helmet. After parking in the garage you marched over to Perez who had clipped your car, costing you a flying lap, Q1 and Q2. It was all in vain as well because he did not even improve his standing.

Thankfully, Max was quick to stop you, pulling you back from your bicep before things got dirty. "Why are you here?! Why don't you go celebrate with your team or something? Huh?" You pushed him away proceeding with your fight against Checo ( who looked absolutely shocked and apologised multiple times, but you were not having it ).

And when it was race time, you were a beast. From P19 to P2 you were attacking max, switching positions with him every few seconds. Cuss words slipped from your mouth each time he overtook you. You eventually parked in the P2 spot, heaving from the battle that lasted to the last second.

You screamed as you got out, not from joy or excitement. From anger. Slamming the steering wheel on the asphalt, you were not satisfied. It was not enough. You were hugged by your team and praised by your parents before taking your weight and sitting in the cool down room.

Taking your helmet off for the first time gave you room to breath as you sat in the chair, closing your eyes and leaning backwards. "That was a good race." You heard Max say from beside you, running a towel gently over your face.

There mustn't have been another person or cameras in the room. So, you were currently sitting beside your boyfriend, not your rival. "Tell me about it." You sighed, sinking into the chair tired. "You did very well, I'm proud." You could hear the smile in his voice, and you looked to see. He was indeed smiling at you, but you still felt . . . frustrated.

"But I lost." You scoffed sitting upright. You wanted to be angry at him, but you couldn't. You just couldn't.

And when it came time to celebrate, you put down the trophy as soon as you received it. Looking at it, the only thing you felt now was shame. When the Austrian anthem came to an end and champagne bottles were opened to be sprayed, you were downing the bottle instead.

part three →

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eiightysixbaby · 2 years ago

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blue raspberry syrup

(part 2 to sunscreen and chlorine)

word count: 3.9k

pairing: lifeguard!eddie x fem!reader

summary: a second meeting with your favorite lifeguard after pool hours… what will you get into this time?

cw: 18+ ONLY MINORS DNI - SMUT. oral (m receiving), eddie watches reader get herself off, unprotected p in v, creampie, sex in a public place (they’re alone tho), use of pet names, temperature play

author’s note: here she is, finally! hope i did part one justice with this sequel, let me know what y’all think!!

Milky twilight began to fall over the community pool, the sunset casting orange and lilac reflections on the surface of the water. Fireflies flickered on and off in the grass beyond the fence, communicating in their own way. Meanwhile, Eddie busied himself with any task he could think of as he waited for you to return. He took out the trash, cleaned the disgusting bathrooms, washed his hands ten times afterwards, closed all the umbrellas positioned between lounge chairs. Billy had been the last one to leave at 7:30, telling Eddie he ‘better not pull anymore bullshit tomorrow’, and now Eddie finds himself taking a well deserved quick swim in the pool, cooling himself off after a scorcher of a day. One half of the water, the deeper end, is concealed by the pool cover, Eddie having left the shallower end open for use. He submerges himself underwater, propelling himself forward and then coming up to the surface, shaking his hair wildly like a dog. He pulls himself out of the water, hands flat on the concrete as he pushes his body up and out. His swim trunks drip the chlorinated water all around his feet, hitting the pavement in loud droplets. Drying himself off with a towel, he sees headlights pull into the parking lot, hears faint music playing from the car radio. You step out of your car and catch his eye, giving him a wave - the same little delicate wave you directed at him when he first saw you lounging by the pool earlier that day. You have a towel tucked under your arm, and another popsicle in your left hand. Eddie’s head swirls with delight.

You’d been antsy all afternoon after your shower session with Eddie, pacing back and forth around your room at home just trying to distract yourself. The minutes seemed to drag, moving slow like thick honey as you waited for your next meeting time with the lifeguard that made your heart pound. You’d showered and slipped on a different bathing suit, the other one being damp and cold and reeking of chemical water. You forced yourself to gain some sense of composure as you stepped out of your car after arriving back at the pool, unwilling to let Eddie know just how much he’d occupied your brain the last several hours. He beams at you from behind the painted metal fence and you feel butterflies take flight in your stomach.

“You and those damn popsicles,” he laughs, opening the gate to the pool to let you in, still towel drying his hair.

You held the frozen snack at your side, still in the crinkly white wrapper. You try to bite back a smile but ultimately fail. The squeaky metal gate closes behind you, Eddie positioning the latch into place with a clink.

“Thought you liked it, don’t tell me you’re gonna complain if you have to watch me eat another,” you look up at him innocently with round eyes, batting your lashes for effect.

Eddie just rolls his eyes, giving you a dismissive wave as he walks with you towards the water. The heat has dissipated slightly with the gradual nightfall, the intense glare of the sun now faded into a subtle wink. Crickets chirp in the grass, filling the night with sound, a lullaby coaxing the town to sleep. He finds himself sick with adoration as he looks at you, looking so effortlessly perfect. An oversized t-shirt covering you down to your mid-thigh, concealing the swimsuit underneath - he can see where it ties at the back of your neck. You wear white flip flops on your feet, toenails painted a bright shade of purple. The backs of the shoes clap clap clap as you step towards the pool, Eddie’s bare feet padding silently next to them. You lay your striped beach towel down onto the concrete, next to the pool’s edge. Eddie watches your every movement, his heart pounding in his chest. He wants to touch you, to taste you, to feel you all over him.

You sit on your towel, leaning your head to the side to glance up at Eddie. “Well, Munson? What kind of lessons do you have for me?” you ask playfully, itching to get his hands on you.

There’s a pause as Eddie thinks. His eyes trail to the still wrapped popsicle, and then back to you. His face twists into a devious grin. He sits so he’s facing you, legs spread as he gently pulls you to sit between them. He pulls you in for a kiss, forcing back the moan that threatens to break free at the mere contact with your lips. He hears you sigh into him, hands coming up to cup his face. Soft lips move against even softer ones, tongues searching the inside of cheeks eagerly. Your hands tangle in his damp hair, cold droplets covering your skin. When he finally pulls away, he admires your kiss swollen lips, rubbing the pad of his thumb across the bottom one. He picks up the popsicle, slowly working the wrapper off of it, and you eye him curiously.

Eddie holds the stick of the popsicle with one hand, other hand gripping your jaw, pulling your mouth open gently.

“Stick your tongue out, baby,” he murmurs, watching you intently as you oblige.

He presses the popsicle to your tongue, prompting you to suck it past your lips. You take only a little bit into your mouth at first, and Eddie doesn’t seem pleased. He tsks at you, lips forming a slight frown.

“Surely you can take more than that, sweetheart,” he coos, his eyes steady as they observe you.

He pushes the popsicle further past your plush lips, enjoying the way you let it all happen without protest. Less and less of the blue tinted ice is visible the further he coaxes it into your mouth, and your eyes tear up a little as it reaches the back of your throat. The muscles tense, making you gag a little.

“That’s right, honey, choke on it for me. You were such a good girl gagging on my dick earlier, you can handle this too, right?” his voice is almost patronizing, yet it sends shockwaves right to your core, wetness beginning to pool in your bathing suit bottoms.

You pull away for a moment, suddenly the cotton shirt on your body is too much, too heavy on you. You pull it over your head hastily, setting it beside you before turning to face Eddie once more. You open your mouth, sticking your tongue out for him, prompting him to keep going. Eddie groans as you eagerly suck the popsicle, taking all that he gives you without complaint. He pulls it from your mouth suddenly, a soft slurping sound forming as you gather the sticky sweet juice from dripping past your lips. Without warning, Eddie puts the treat in his mouth, blue raspberry syrup coating his tongue. You feel a persistent throbbing between your thighs, watching his sloppy tongue lick remnants of your saliva off of blue ice. It’s not what you expected him to do, but you’ll be damned if you don’t find it fucking hot. He looks at you with heavy lidded eyes, sucking slow on the popsicle, driving you crazy.

You can’t take the teasing anymore, needing more of him, and you grab the popsicle from his hand. You lean into his personal space, getting him to lean back on flat palms. He watches you silently, hears his heartbeat in his ears as you suck the popsicle into your mouth once more, proceeding to pull it back out and kiss his neck with cold lips. He shudders, gasping when you press your cold tongue flat to his warm flesh, licking and nipping at the thin skin. You travel down his body like that, taking a lick of your frozen treat, then putting cold lips and tongue on Eddie’s skin, sucking hickeys into his chest. For the first time, you notice he has a nipple piercing. Just one, two silver balls resting on either side of puckered skin. The metal seems to gleam for you, calling you in. You take it into your mouth, icy tongue teasing the skin and tasting metal. Eddie whimpers, laughing a little when you pull away.

“Just now noticing that, honey?” he asks, pretty teeth on display for you as he smiles.

“I like it,” you reply easily, licking flat across his nipple once more before continuing your journey down.

Eddie knows where this is going, and his body practically vibrates with anticipation. Goosebumps break out on his skin as your mouth finds its way beneath his belly button, mouth kitten licking and kissing over his happy trail. He thinks he may die when you hook your fingers in the waistband of his swim trunks, coolly sucking on your popsicle all the while, getting your mouth nice and cold for him. His dick throbs, begging for attention. You coax the damp fabric down his legs, his cock springing free, curving towards his tummy. Before Eddie can even register it, your mouth engulfs him, cold tongue licking his shaft. Eddie tenses, throwing his head back and letting out a puff of air at the new sensation. A thin ribbon of saliva connects your bottom lip to the head of his cock when you start to pull away, licking up and down the popsicle again, tongue turning more blue with each swipe of it. You suck on the head of Eddie’s weeping cock, hollowing your cheeks out as he moans your name, fingers tangling in your hair. His cock practically aches, every cold press of your mouth against it has his breath catching in his throat, strangled moans escaping his pretty lips. He lets you work your magic for a while bobbing your head up and down, rolling his balls between your fingers.

The popsicle starts to melt where it rests in your free hand, and Eddie takes it from you, sucking on it while you suck on him. You pull off of his cock with a quiet pop, and Eddie grabs your chin, urging you up towards him. He kisses you hungrily, two blue tongues swirling around one another. Eddie stifles a groan, you taste like artificial berries and him and it’s turning him on even more. He’s not gonna let you have him so easily though, oh no, he’s gonna give you a taste of the teasing you gave him earlier. Just as he has you whimpering for him, he pulls away. He walks over to the trash can, bare feet on gritty pavement, tossing the remnants of the popsicle away. Turning back to face you, a grin spreads across his face and he goes running straight for the pool, completely naked, landing in the water with a huge splash. He comes back up for air with a gasp, hair sticking to his forehead.

“Eddieeeeee,” you whine between giggles, toes dangling into the water, watching him as he paddles around. “Need you,” you pout at him. “Now you’re being a tease.”

Your pussy throbs beneath skimpy bikini bottoms, so desperate for him to fill you. You can still taste him in your mouth, briny pre cum lingering in the back of your throat, and you chew on your lip in anticipation.

Eddie looks at you for a moment as he bobs in the water, arms splayed over his rescue tube that he snatched from beside the pool, keeping him effortlessly afloat. He has to hold back a devious laugh when he gets an idea. He paddles closer to the ledge where you sit, pulling the safety equipment from under his arms, holding it out to you.

“Show me how bad you need me, baby. Why don’t you ride that, and pretend it’s me,” he smirks at you, only growing more satisfied when you fail to form words in response, your mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water.

“Go ahead, honey, don’t be all shy now. Grind on it,” Eddie commands, gesturing for you to get on with it.

You delicately wrap your fingers around the safety equipment, GUARD written in bulky white block letters on the side. You straddle the rubbery red tube, one end of the object brushing against your clothed clit as you position yourself. An involuntary moan escapes your lips even at the minimal contact, and Eddie huffs a laugh, face sickeningly smug. Your face heats up instantly, suddenly ten times more aware of his eyes on you, like a specimen under a microscope. Your eyebrows knit together in concentration as you find a comfortable rhythm, riding the slippery material in desperation, dying to soothe the heat between your thighs. Pitiful mewls escape your lips, and Eddie raises his eyebrows at you.

“Oh, feels good, huh?” Eddie says, his tone mocking.

You want to reply with something witty, don’t want to give in this easy, but your core aches and pleads for more. Instead you whimper, wiggling your hips lower to rub across the tube, material dragging underneath your clit. The friction is so good, your hands grabbing desperately at the flat pavement beneath you, seeking purchase on anything and failing to find it. Your hips have found a steady pace, grinding against the spongey edge of the object, hair falling in your face with your head hung low. You moan his name and Eddie instinctively reaches down to palm at his hard cock. He shouldn’t be enjoying this as much as he is, but all he can think about is how he’s going to be using that same equipment during his shift tomorrow, keeping this little secret all to himself. Your cheeks are flushed with arousal yet also a slight twinge of embarrassment as Eddie watches you come undone on a fucking rescue buoy, pretending it’s his muscular thigh you’re riding. You soak the material beneath you as your legs tremble, glancing up at Eddie with pouty lips, silently pleading for him to have his way with you.

“Fuck, honey,” Eddie murmurs, reaching up from the water to brush hair out of your face. “Get in here with me, take everything off,” his eyes are dark as they watch you, standing up on shaky legs.

You shuffle out of your swimsuit bottoms, untying the straps on your top and letting it drop to the ground. You ease yourself into the water, cold touching every inch of your sun soaked skin as you lower your body in. Your feet touch the smooth bottom of the pool, water rising up to your breasts, making you shiver. Eddie pulls you to his chest immediately, naked bodies radiating warmth onto each other in the cool chlorinated liquid surrounding you. Darkness seems to have crept further in now, like a blanket shielding your naked bodies from the rest of the world, keeping these secrets for you. Eddie brushes your hair to one side, kissing and licking at your neck as his hands find their way to the globes of your ass, squeezing.

“Need to fuck you, baby, right here,” he says, voice muffled slightly as he presses kisses to your shoulder.

“You’re sure no one will catch us, right?” you breathe out, voice wavering slightly as his lips tickle your skin.

“It’s just you and me, honey. No one will catch us. Promise,” he’s pulled away from you, looking you straight in the eye so you take him seriously.

And he’s telling the truth. The cops make their rounds nightly, stopping by the pool at 10:30pm on the nose every. single. night. Eddie knows this partly because of several almost-busted drug deals he’s attempted to host late at night in the pool parking lot, and partly from stories he’s heard from other people who’ve tried to have late night swims in private. Given the fact that their whole goal is to catch people doing illegal things, the cops have really become far too predictable, doing their routine runs and making the same stops in the same order over and over. Eddie chuckles to himself as he thinks of this, pulling you even closer to him, giddy with the promise of more time alone with you.

He lifts you slightly and you instantly wrap your legs around his waist. He dips his head down, sucking one of your nipples into his mouth as his hands toy with the fat of your ass. His mouth sucks bruises into the skin around your breasts, teeth biting at the skin just for his tongue to soothe it afterwards. You can feel his cock pressing against you and you squirm in Eddie’s grip, aching to be full of him. His blunt fingernails dig into your skin where he grips you, mouth finding its way up your neck and to your ear, leaving kisses in its wake.

“Want me to fill you up, honey?” his voice rasps in your ear, cold wet hair tickling the side of your face.

“Y-yeah, fuck,” you inhale sharply as he sucks on your earlobe, pulling it gently between his teeth.

He pins you against the side of the pool, your legs still wrapped around him as he attempts to line himself up with your entrance. You finally feel him slip in, both of you letting out heavy sighs at the feeling. You swear you can feel him in your guts by the time he’s fully inside you, and your body feels like it’s going to short circuit from sheer pleasure. He bucks up into you, teeth biting hard on his bottom lip, brows furrowed as he concentrates on making you feel good. Water ripples around you with every movement, sloshing gently around your partially submerged bodies. Your fingernails claw at the soft skin of his back, sure to leave scratches on the otherwise empty canvas. Eddie’s barely keeping himself together as he fucks you, his pace less brutal than round one in the shower, but you feel too good around him and he finds it hard to will himself not to cum so soon. You’re so tight around him, so warm, and every time your muscles clench he’s cursing under his breath. You lean your head forward, resting it on his shoulder, incredibly grateful for Eddie’s tight grip on you - your body is far too overwhelmed with pleasure to focus on keeping yourself upright, limbs feeling like jello. Eddie’s hips snap into you with a particularly rough thrust, the tip of his cock hitting your sweet spot in just the right way, and you bite down on his shoulder to muffle a cry.

“Right there, baby? Y’like that?” Eddie’s voice is low and hovering just above your ear, sending a shiver right down your spine.

“Feels so good, love when you fuck me Eddie,” you moan, and god Eddie swears he could die from the sound of you saying his name alone.

He continues to plow into you at just the right angle, hands fighting to keep their grip on your ass, skin growing slippery from the water. You’re close, Eddie can tell by the way your breathing is staggered and your eyes are pinched shut, his name tumbling out of your mouth in barely coherent strings.

“E-Eddie, ‘m so close,” you whimper, confirming his suspicions.

“Me too, honey, fuck,” Eddie’s panting, hips faltering slightly in their movements as he pushes his body through water.

“Wanna ride you, Eddie, please,” you beg him, and he pulls out of you almost instantly, hoisting himself out of the pool.

“Come on then, baby, what’re you waiting for?” he smirks, laying back onto your towel, the thin layer of fabric easing the roughness of laying on pavement.

You follow him out of the pool, water dripping everywhere as you straddle his lap on shaky knees. You sink down onto his cock, hips falling into the same rhythm they’d had on Eddie’s rescue gear earlier, this time feeling so enticingly full. Eddie groans as your gooey walls envelope him, gripping onto your waist to ground himself. Heat pools in the pit of your stomach once again as you rock yourself on top of him, the new angle stretching you in different ways. You bring a tentative hand down to rub circles on your clit, the sensitive bud begging for more attention. Eddie can’t help himself, he starts rutting up into you, trying to match your pace. He’s right on the edge of bliss but determined to get you there first, pushing himself as deep inside of you as he’ll go. He’s sick with lust as he watches you ride him, delirious with the way your tits bounce with every jolt of your body.

“Gonna cum, Eddie, don’t stop,” you warn, fingers moving quicker on your clit, brows furrowed in concentration.

“Not planning on it, sweetheart,” Eddie grunts, driving into you again and again as you squirm on top of him.

A few more thrusts from him and you feel the rope finally snap, hunched over Eddie’s body as you come undone around him. Your chest heaves as you work through your high, walls fluttering harshly around Eddie’s throbbing length. You feel like your bones turned to mush as Eddie keeps bucking his hips into you, your limbs tingling with the overstimulation of it all. You press chaste kisses to his neck as his moans grow louder, biting and licking at his skin before he finally reaches release. He paints your insides for what feels like forever, loosening his grip on your sides when he’s finally done.

“Shit, honey. Milked me fuckin’ dry,” Eddie laughs, breathing heavy with exertion.

You giggle as you slowly pull off of him, a mix of your release and his leaking out of you, sliding slowly down your thighs. Eddie sits up beside you and you pull him in for a lazy kiss, sloppy lips on lips and tongues peeking out to greet each other. Pulling away, Eddie glances over at the clock hanging on the wall near the locker rooms. It reads just about 10 o’clock. He huffs a sad sigh as he turns back to you.

“We should probably get going, baby. Cops usually show up pretty soon,” Eddie stands, holding a hand out to help you up as well.

You stick out your bottom lip in a pitiful pout as you rise from your sitting position, earning a laugh from Eddie.

“Wish we could just stay here all night,” your pout persists as your press your palms to his chest, scrunching your nose when he kisses it.

“Trust me, honey, you’ll be seeing more of me. No way you’re getting rid of me now,” Eddie chews on the inside of his cheek, attempting to suppress his smirk.

You wait for him by the gate as he covers the rest of the pool and puts his equipment in his locker, admiring every stride his long legs take, thin frame lit up only by the light of the moon and the subtle glow of the flickering lamps in the parking lot. He jogs over to you, kissing you sweetly as his hands unlatch the gate behind you, metal scraping on metal as it opens. He walks you to your car, shaggy wet curls falling over his shoulders as he leans through the window to give you one more kiss goodnight. You pull a pen from your glovebox, writing your phone number in blue ink on his wrist, then kissing the back of his hand before letting him go. He keeps looking over his shoulder at you as he walks to his beat up van, giving you a little wave as you pull out of your parking spot.

Almost as soon as you get home, your phone rings - and you have a feeling it might be one particular lifeguard you know.

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x fem!reader #lifeguard!eddie munson #eddie munson fanfic

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lisafication · 1 year ago

Text

Digging Graves for your Morals; Or, The Ethical Problem of Outlawry

Hello, yes, I am here again. This one is shorter, I swear (it’s under four thousand words, even). If this is the first post from me you’re seeing, this is a follow-up to my prior essay posted here on the game The Coffin of Andy and Leyley, although it should be able to mostly stand alone.

At the end of my last essay, I touched on both the game’s nearly uncompromising moral scepticism and relativity, but I didn’t really dig into it. I outlined that the game only textually frames actions as ‘morally bad’ in the context of a morality set by the society and the world that has treated them as no better than farm animals raised for the slaughter. Well, I have a lot to say on the topic of ethics on the topic of The Coffin of Andy and Leyley, so buckle in, this one’s going to talk about the social contract, moral scepticism and everyone’s favourite topic: Mrs. Graves.

As usual, this was originally posted and formatted for on Sufficient Velocity and you can perhaps more easily read it there. Spoilers abound, and my content warning from last time still applies.

She’s not too hot on either ethics or her mother

The Meat of the Matter

Since a lot of this is optional or otherwise missable information, let’s review the premise the game gives us. If you’re already aware of all of this, I apologise, it won’t take long.

First off the bat, the quarantine at the start of the game was a hoax-driven money-making scheme of which you can pick up more-or-less all the relevant details of. This is entirely missable and by the time it’s possible to discover, our protagonists have better things to dwell on and have dialogue about, so I’ll give you a summary of what you can deduce from reading the notes and thinking about it.

The quarantine is an organ harvesting operation, as per some documents you can discover in the wardens’ office. They entrap the residents, test their blood types and starve to death those they deem surplus to requirements — alternatively the starvation itself could be their method of ‘preparing the harvest’, there’s evidence in both directions and it hardly matters — harvesting the organs of the others for sale. As our protagonists are AB-typed, the ‘universal recipient’ or ‘most selfish blood type’, they’re some of the first on the chopping block.

If you read through the newspapers and the documents in Mr. Washing Machine’s car, you can discover that ultimately ToxiSoda are responsible, and a similar thing is happening in a different city under the guise of a ‘chemical leak’. Should you further investigate matters, you will find mentions of the ‘man behind it all’, the doctor, or the Surgeon, as the fandom have been referring to him — you may recall Mrs. Graves mentioned someone similar! Yeah, he’s the guy who runs ToxiSoda, who are themselves partners with the water company that faked the parasite outbreak in the first place.

It’s all a life insurance scam, apparently

How much the details of the operation matter is something open to interpretation — it might just be something for players to figure out and Episode 3 will not cover the Surgeon at all, or he might play a major part; it's not particularly relevant to this essay. What matters is that it happened at all — indeed, it’s fairly easy to justify Ashley and Andrew in everything they did in Episode 1 (flashbacks aside), arguing that if they’d made any other decisions they’d have died — an argument that the victims dug their own graves, even if the Graves siblings put them in them. How correct that is is a matter of debate, but that you can make the argument at all matters, and we’ll be returning to this later. In my last essay (and again in the introduction here), I made an analogy to farm animals, raised without love and for slaughter. Let’s put a pin in the ‘for slaughter’ part for now and take a look at the ‘without love’ part.

That’s right, it’s time to meet the parents.

As Andrew notes, there are significantly more compelling reasons for you to say that

They Fuck You Up, Your Mum & Dad

They really do.

Our charming protagonists are, as with many things depicted in this game, an exaggerated, almost farcical example of this phenomenon — one that’s just grounded enough to still feel very real, just like the siblings themselves.

The late and lamentable Mrs. Graves is just the same: originally a teen mother, hopelessly out of depth with two difficult children — even if one was good at masking it — and an unreliable, emotionally unavailable (at least to their children) partner who can’t hold down a job, ends up foisting them off on each other and doing a Parental Negligence because she simply Cannot Cope. That’s the real part. The part where she gets paid off by an organ harvesting operation to leave them to die, that’s the borderline-farcical exaggeration that throws all the nooks and crannies of her character into sharp relief.

Mrs. Graves does not have a good relationship with either of her kids. Having self-admittedly fobbed the job of raising Ashley off on her son, to the degree that they did not even celebrate her birthday as kids, both of them hold differing degrees and types of resentment for her.

For Ashley, it’s hate — perhaps not quite so clear cut as that, as it’s her that calls for the eulogy and she shows some potential signs of discomfort while cleaning up her parents’ corpses, but by and large, it’s fairly simple and straightforward, as usual for Ashley. The sentiment is not exactly unreturned, either.

This brings Ashley’s heart great delight!

The most clear incident raising her from everyday ‘neglectful’ to ‘wow she wanted nothing to do with this kid’ is the optional ‘birthday cake’ scene, obtained by finding the present in Ashley’s first ‘transitory world’ dream, in which we see Ashley’s birthday and the founding of a lemon cupcake tradition between Leyley and Andy. She has received nothing from her family, notes that her ‘friends’ would say they were busy before she even told them the schedule and Andy takes her out to buy cupcakes with his pocket money.

This scene gets a callback in Andrew’s dream later. Just remember to Ask Nicely, rather than Kill Her.

Parents of the year, everyone.

So with Ashley it’s as straightforward and obvious as she herself is — she hates her mother, her mother hates her. With Andrew, as with Andrew himself, it’s a fair bit more complicated. His mother is a much more nuanced figure, who is believable in her role as an unfortunate teen parent who was trying her best. He has a degree of trust in her against, seemingly, his own good judgment In her conversation with Andrew, she acknowledges her fault in raising him and seemingly sincerely tries to offer him a ‘way out’, an olive branch.

I think many people have had relationships where they might say this

This scene in particular intrigues me, because she is acknowledging fault in a way that Andrew strictly avoids doing — and well, there’s nothing Andrew likes more than a good way to avoid acknowledging any fault of his own. With her dominant relationship over their father as a model for Andrew to draw comparisons to his own relationship with Ashley with, it’s no surprise that the narrative resonates with him to the point of ‘Accept’ being many people’s first completion.

Of course, that’s not all there is to it. There is a fascinating contrast with her later conversation with Ashley, where she — despite accusing Ashley of brainwashing Andrew — refers to Leyley and Andy as ‘two psychos’ and states that she always knew they were responsible for Nina’s death and that, implicitly, they owe her for not turning them in.

There's something about mother-daughter relationships here that I just do not have the time or reading to dig into, unfortunately.

Meanwhile, when Andrew interrogates her on her possession of their death certificates, she has… an interesting, plausible story about a life insurance scam and claims that she really did think they died in the fire, implicitly denying the claim that she sold them. It’s entirely possible that she’s describing the details of the ‘scam’ correctly — you can even buy that she genuinely does care for Andrew in some way, if not Ashley, but her claim about being an honest, grieving parent shocked at their deaths… doesn’t add up?

This is a very normal reaction to your supposedly dead children showing up in your house.

As Andrew himself notes after hearing her story, she’s full of shit. This gets into speculation, because there are a few ways to read this, but the most plausible ‘gist’ is that she and her partner were paid off in money and jobs to not raise a fuss — the surgeon she mentioned is almost certainly the founder of ToxiSoda, remember?

The overwhelming difference in presentation between how she speaks to Andrew and Ashley invites investigation — and when Andrew turns down her offer and tells her he isn’t interested in her offer in Decline, her reaction isn’t… despair, it’s shock — and well, there’s a good reason for that.

Why do you think she did it in the first place?

This is the happiest we see her

Well — it’s so she can finally fit into society. That white picket fence, that idyllic 1950s life — hell you can call it the American Dream. She wants that, or as close to it as she can get — the working-class teen mother, living in poverty, aspiring to the middle-class. It’s a very common, very real and very grounded motivation.

And to that end, she effectively sold off her children. It’s no wonder she can’t fathom why Andrew wouldn’t choose the same.

That’s the part that makes you think — just like the deaths in Episode 1, well- maybe the siblings are justified here, too. It’s a weaker argument, but it’s still one you can make under many common moral paradigms today — what goes around comes around, all that jazz. Just look at how awful she was to Ashley.

She’s finally found what she’s been striving for.

Here’s the thing, here’s the thing though — what, reasonably, could she have done? Andrew and Ashley briefly highlight this in conversation about Ashley’s ‘friends’ in Episode 1 — was she supposed to fight gunmen to try and break them out? Throw food to the balcony from four stories?

Moreover, as she herself says to Andrew… would anyone really have been able to do better than her in her position? She was seventeen when Ashley was born, living in poverty with a partner who couldn’t even remember Andrew’s name when he was a kid. Anyone would have had difficulty, let alone with these kids.

Her evils are — they’re not any deliberate action, but rather… prompted inaction. She didn’t have the emotional energy, resources or plain capability to properly parent her children, she didn’t have any solutions to their murder of Nina in a state so blatantly hostile to its underclass, she didn’t have a way to connect with Ashley and she took the money rather than fight a futile and likely suicidal battle against a corporation and its armed goons in a dystopian setting.

Ashley, notably, does not deny this.

Her sin is the one we’re all, I think, guilty of — that of not trying hard enough, that of inaction in the face of difficult tasks, of not standing up on principle because it’s just too much that day and you don’t have the spoons, you’ll do it tomorrow (no you won’t). It’s a petty, everyday kind of evil — that of not doing enough.

Is that enough to condemn her? Certainly, there’s a pretty manipulative read of her that likely has some truth to it — in the locked door in Ashley’s dream in ‘Decay’ you can discover that she has a ‘not-hatched’ tar soul — but consider that lens — the game won’t make up your mind for you, so you’ll need to choose that for yourself.

The dad is interesting in terms of negative space — but he’s mostly important in that he doesn’t matter, so I decided to not fit him in here. He has art, though — just no sprite, because, well, he’s never mattered to either sibling.

The Contract We Call Society

Right, it’s time to get a little bit Theoretical in here. Not much, but a little. Social contract theory is a complex topic with a lot of nuance, much of which I will be eliding in the name of not writing a twenty thousand word paper on semiotics, law, and anthropology, but the short analogy is… the idea that as long as you play by society’s rules, as long as you are a good citizen, a good person, the state, or the community, will take care of you.

In a number of ways, the harshest penalty levied by many historical states and legal codes was not death, but rather the criminal status of outlawry, a practice that’s cropped up a number of times in history — the practice of no longer being protected by the law. This meant one could be killed or worse with impunity — you were no longer protected by mob justice and, while overexaggerated as a term of reference, certain texts from Medieval England refer to outlaws as bearing a wolfshead, ‘for the wolf is a beast hated by all folk’. Never minding that wolves are actually delightful, this was a time when wolves were actively hunted and sold by people — and the same was intended to happen to outlaws. They were ‘fair targets’ as far as society was concerned, no longer to be treated as your fellow citizens.

This was the gravest punishment on the books, for most of these legal codes — something saved for those who had broken the social contract so completely that there could be no turning back (civil outlawry is… a bit different, that’s not the topic here). Among others, a modern critique of the concept is that it offers no incentive for improvement, no incentive to change or to cease harming society — if an outlaw has none of the social contract’s protections, what reason do they have to obey… any of the social contract? If that seems familiar, well, let me ask you this:

What if the state or community fails its end first? What responsibility does the innocent outlaw have to that contract?

It’s an interesting phrasing, that the world is better off.

It’s time to talk about the incest, and part of why it’s there. The cannibalism too, but that’s less impactful here. If you’ve seen me elsewhere, you might have seen me say that the incest is a load-bearing narrative pillar — in large part due to it being a critical facet of the siblings’ relationship, but in another large part due to it being an equally critical part of how the game uses taboo.

A taboo is in this context something that is considered repulsive and to be avoided by society. It’s a more complex term than that — you can also use it for certain sacred actions or utterances that are only permitted to certain people, for example — but that’s what it is here. Swearing, premarital sex, BDSM and murder are, approximately from weak to strong, some example taboos held in modern Anglospheric society.

Strong taboos are a staple of horror — they shock, they disgust, they draw people’s attention and it’s that last one that’s critical here. Incest is a very strong taboo — while I am absolutely not segueing into its historical context, the very well-established Westermarck effect gives it a certain timelessness and immunity to desensitisation that most other taboos don’t have — murder, to contrast, is a taboo we’re largely desensitised to in modern media and works of modern media have to put in actual work to make a murder seem horrifying — through atmosphere, cinematography, evocative prose etc.

And this is important because the use of taboo I’m covering in this essay is that the incest is used to invite judgment — it is so ingrained as a ‘wrong thing’ in people’s brains almost regardless of background that it forces the player to engage with the work morally. And that’s where the fun starts.

I’ve mentioned before, very briefly, about the juxtaposition of tone between the Burial & Decay endings, contrasting with the very monstrous difference in morality. Burial is remarkably light-hearted — they play around with the drain blockage, they joke about their mother’s personality and this is further exaggerated on the Love path, where Andrew is much more comfortable with casual contact and the two make a game out of how far they can throw their parents’ skulls, the humour is directly contrasted against their abhorrent actions.

I’ll be real Ashley is far more merciful than I, I’m shuddering at the thought of that gunk in my hair

In comparison, Decay is… bleak. I’ve seen it being referred to as being ‘emotionally sandblasted’ and, yeah I think that’s fair — it’s uncomfortable, it’s heavy and it’s just not fun. And this is the route in which, if you chose Trust into Accept, Andrew has bought into the narrative that his mother’s offered — that he can fit just fine into society if he wasn’t stuck, if not for Ashley — the route that ‘fits’ most closely to the social contract, to Andrew feeling the guilt that we think he should and hating the monsters that they’ve become, as the social contract deems them. Given the pains the game takes to attach the player to the protagonists, this normative moral ending is very easily interpreted as the bad ending.

And well, isn’t it?

Thing is, as mentioned above, the social contract has never held up its end for them. The game takes careful pains to point out to a viewer that they’ve never had the life that society promises people, so why do its moral standards apply?

The game invites you to judge the characters, and in the same motion, asks you from what principles you judge them, making a pretty good guess in that, like most people who haven’t spent a large amount of time navel-gazing and reading some very boring books by very dusty old men, they come from the society around you.

Love even has Ashley express this sentiment directly after the incestuous dream — she asks you — well, Andrew, but this is also something for the player to mull over — why this is what’s engaged your morality or sense of revulsion, rather than the desecration, cannibalism or murder.

Andrew and Ashley are both very funny and very fascinating in this scene.

And that’s the framing that it casts all of its own moral judgement in — even the ‘tar-soul’ aspect is… well, it’s unclear what it even means. Mrs. Graves was a ‘not-hatched’ tar soul, after all. Other than that, it’s society and the world being better off without them, rather than any kind of assertion of objective morality. Due to the present of ‘soul colour’, we’ll presumably see the game make some moral statements in Episode 3, but as it stands?

It’s nearly completely morally sceptical, in and of itself — it’s not interested in moral assertions or education, it’s interested in making you question your own morals. Deconstructive (not that kind), rather than dialectic, to be mildly pretentious.

It uses taboo and shock to invite moral judgement, but then uses tone, charm and our instinct to look for the happiest end for our blorbos to get you to recognise that these are principles you yourself brought into the game, rather than any it’s handed you.

To summarise: you’ve brought these principles in from society, but what do the siblings, the protagonists, the villains to the world, owe society? Enough that they should follow them? It failed them first, after all.

Closing Thoughts

This one is a bit less energetic than the last, tragically — my sleeping schedule is the stuff of nightmares recently, I love windy weather. Wait, no the opposite. Huge thank you to everyone who commented on the last one, you are the wind beneath my wings and the main reason I managed to get this out this week.

This essay is a bit more interpretative than my last one — certainly, there are alternative readings and I’ve been toying with the idea of deliberately taking a reading I don’t like very much and writing from that perspective as a demonstrative exercise recently — mostly that you shouldn’t just take my word for things!

Otherwise, if the last bit at the end seemed murky, I apologise — I did try to write a more detailed version, but firstly, it was three thousand words and secondly, I re-read it the next day and I could not understand what the fuck I was talking about. Personally, I blame Derrida — suffice to say that I strongly recommend playing through it with an eye towards considering culpability, morality and why you think certain characters are more or less forgivable than others, and for what deeds. See what you get out of it.

I managed to keep one particular thread open to wrap up with here — I try to keep speculation on Episode 3 content to a minimum in the main essays, but it should be fine here — you might have noticed that I refer to Episode 1 and Episode 2 being on something of a spectrum of justifiability, with the siblings’ actions being ‘more’ justifiable in Episode 1 and ‘less’ justifiable — but still justifiable if you try — in Episode 2.

To continue the thought of the happiest ending being the one in which they step the furthest away from common morality and to further jar the viewers’ sense of morality by contrasting societal morality and blorbo-oriented morality, Episode 3: Burial could continue this trend in having a major victim be someone who, well, has done nothing wrong and isn’t even guilty of bystander syndrome.

I wonder if there’s any good candidates, someone who’s sweet, harmless and will indisputably be an innocent victim…

…I’m sure she’ll be fine

#the coffin of andy and leyley #tcoaal #analysis #essay #ashley graves #andrew graves #mrs graves #nnnnot sure what the next topic will be #might do a deranged take on purpose #this one and the last one have been very grounded #I'll get to my asks tomorrow #probably #I've been busy sorry

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chemicalsgreenz · 5 months ago

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Car Wash Chemicals

#car wash chemicals #car care products

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rustedhearts · 2 months ago

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the one where steve is a hometown lover from the past that you’ll never outgrow (also mechanic!steve, also the same steve as in asleep)….

moodboard

“hey.”

he’s on the front steps of your trailer with a cigarette between his lips. the afternoon sun has gathered and festered under the weight of thin cotton down your back. it’s glowing bright orange on his bronzed cheeks. he spent a lot of time outside this summer. he spent a lot of time away.

but here he is, at 5:00. just off work. just like you, holding your keys in one hand and an empty lunchbox in the other. holding pulsing aches in your feet, suffocating in a pair of high heels.

“hey.”

one eye shutters closed when he tips his head back to see you. to inspect you the way only he ever does. his lips curl sideways to release a furl of smoke.

“uh…what are you doing here?”

steve pats the rickety wood beside him. his knuckles are scabbed, fingertips dirtied with soil and grease. 5:00. just off work. the navy blue collared shirt hand-stitched with his name.

your lunchbox swings when you step forward, whirl around, and sink down. it clunks with a hollow tupperware container when you set it on the concrete.

steve pulls the cigarette away from his mouth and rests his elbows on his knees. a fleck of ash flings toward the patchy grass near his feet. he reeks of chemical car exhaust. when the wind whispers through the park, it wafts the cheyennes toward your just-washed-hair.

just like old times.

"wanted to see you," he says.

you kick your legs out and cross one over the other. steve's eyes wander their way, hazel mutating into amber in direct sunlight. you haven't seen them this close in ages. haven't felt the solid heat of him in months. longer, if you thought about it.

you aren't sure what to say to him, and the quiet sound of lips latching to paper fill the space. he sighs the next cloud of smoke out. the sheen of sweat on his skin makes it glitter.

"how’s, uh…how’s your mom?”

you glance at him, lip between your teeth. “better. been clean a couple months now.”

he hums, mouthing at the cigarette butt. it’s getting smaller and smaller by the second. the crackle in his lungs feels better than the silence.

“how’s your brother?” you offer.

another bout of ash springing toward the concrete. it lands on the toe of his boot. they must be sweltering cages in this heat.

“back home.” you know that means not good.

using the pointed toe of one, you kick off your heels and wiggle your swollen toes. the cheap, glossy shoes scrape the sidewalk where they fall.

a few rows over, the hiss of charred meat erupts into a stream of smoke. the grill lid slams. a dog yips until someone snaps at it.

“we should’ve gotten outta here.”

it’s steve that says it and he’s shaking his head. head tipped back to the sky like it might be different elsewhere. but it’s always been the same shade of blue above the trailer park.

you watch his bicep spill over his knee. a bead of sweat drip to his elbow. you can’t help but lean forward and drop your head to his shoulder. above you, his head snaps aside with the swiftness of lightning.

the cigarette is gone now. steve stubs it on the porch and flings it toward the grass. you watch it nestle between overgrown blades, just behind a dandelion.

he folds his arms together over his tucked-up knees.

“it wouldn’t have been different,” you tell him.

steve turns away. tufts of hair cling to the back of his neck with sweat. patches grow dark where it’s damp. the chain of a dog tag peeks above the navy collar.

it’s his brother’s. the one who didn’t make it home.

a gust of wind rushes through the park. it flutters through your hair, flaps through the bottom of your skirt. steve tips his head back to feel it. you watch the sun gather and sit glowingly on his nose. he has a new freckle under his jaw.

“i think it would’ve,” he murmurs. it seems like a remark mostly for himself.

you felt your hand sneaking through the warmth under his arm before you knew it. worming through the gap, looping over his forearm until it comes back to you. once intertwined, you feel a relief waiting to be released. balled up for months in your chest, soothed only by steve.

steve drops his head down on yours. the weight of it like a paperclip, holding you together. you let your eyes close and imagine what he always said leaving his mouth right now. i love ya, kid.

you hum against his arm, cheek pressed into soft, slick flesh. in your mind, it mimics the same sounds of your usual response. i love you too.

"wanna stay a bit?" you say instead.

steve shuts his eyes. "okay," he says back.

when the pair of you finally move a few minutes later, you hook your fingers in your heels and steve takes your lunchbox. he kicks his shoes off near the door on the outside, sets the lunchbox on the coffee table.

he takes the hand that reaches for him, angled behind you at the base of your spine. your feet journey toward the bedroom without question.

he forgets the dog tags around your bed post when he leaves.

a familiar excuse to return again.

#rolly!#steve harrington #Spotify #mechanic!steve harrington #steve harrington blurb #steve harrington angst #steve harrington x reader #rolly’s blurbs #steve harrington blurbs

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ghostinthez0nes · 6 months ago

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Chaotic Fun Ghoul headcanons lets goooo💚

This mf refuses to wash his hair and needs to be restrained for a shower.

He moves in his sleep and does NOT lie still. The others have too many bruises from the constant flinching, Party got punched in the face while sleeping next to him once. The best way to counter this is to sleep on top of him.

Always on some kind of shit solely because he fucking feels like it. Whether that’s weed, battery acid or some other chemical he decided to huff, Ghoul is hardly ever sober.

Really good at making animal noises.

Can’t hear out of his left ear, thanks to his explosives.

Dare him to do something and he will do it. Will even ask the others to dare him to do stupid shit.

Has no regards for his own safety, but doesn’t do it on purpose.

A horrible flirt but makes it look fucking hilarious, which ultimately gets him a date anyways.

Carries sand in his pockets to throw at people.

Does parkour in his free time, thus why he’s constantly injured.

A goblin that likes to collect dead things, bonus points if it’s a lizard.

Scared of spiders and will cry if he sees one too close to him.

Fashioned himself some grills with sharp teeth which he wears during claps to do extra damage. When he bites he does not let go until he rips something to bits.

Got his ass beat by Kobra many times due to his pranks.

Shaved off his eyebrows one time, he doesn’t want to talk about it.

Has tripped into cactuses of various kinds on multiple occasions.

Passes out a’lot due to lack of sleep.

Constantly gropes Poison just to annoy them.

Likes the smell of spray paint and rust.

Due to his skill in making bombs he’s also really good at making fireworks, which he uses to scare the shit out of everyone at random.

Always covered in dust or motor oil.

A bipolar drunk that flips between laughing his ass off and sobbing profusely.

Starts fights constantly but hardly wins any of them.

Good at opening bottles with his teeth.

Horrible dad jokes.

Not allowed anywhere near the car since “the dune incident”.

Always gets lost, no one can take him anywhere without him wandering off.

Screams to get attention.

Always climbing on top of shit, whether that be tables, cabinets, walls, the Trans Am or Jet.

#he has one braincell and it’s on acid #chaotic ghoul my beloved #posts from the zones #zone posting #zone shitpost #fun ghoul #fun ghoul headcanons #danger days #danger days: the truest lives of the fabulous killjoys #danger days headcanons #ttlotfk #the fabulous killjoys #fabulous killjoys #my chemical romance #mcr #the killjoys are not mcr #party poison #jet star #kobra kid

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insightcracker · 2 months ago

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5 Reasons Why Chemical Guys After Wash Sprayable Gloss Boosting Car Wash Drying Aid is a Game-Changer for a Perfect Shine

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#Chemical Guys #Chemical Guys After Wash #Chemical Guys After Wash Sprayable Gloss Boosting Car Wash

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exhausted-exho · 2 months ago

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Spider-Pez

Imagine Pezzy as Spider-Man. There’s so many little moments I can think of but here’s the most prominent ones.

Before you know he’s Spider-Man, you have two crushes. Your cute lab partner in chemistry and the hero who saved your life a few months back. It all happened so fast. You were running late to class one day-balancing a work schedule and college classes was hectic-and as you were crossing the street a car came hurtling towards you. You didn’t have much time to process anything other than the fact that the little white walking person was still featured on the signs on either side of the road.

Yet here you were, about to get decimated by a bright pink SUV.

Then, out of nowhere, a red and blue blur registered in the corner of your eye before an arm was around your waist and you were hurtling through the air. A strangled scream escaped your mouth as your hands grabbed at any spare bit of his suit. From your new vantage in the sky, you watched the pink SUV fly by, not even slowing down.

When you touched down on a roof, your brain went into overdrive. Trying to catch up and process what just happened. Panting, you fell to your knees and looked up at your savior, who was a bit frantic as he tried to make sure you were okay.

Spider-Man.

You were sitting on a rooftop with freaking Spider-Man.

And he just saved you from getting hit by a car.

I almost got hit by a car.

The realizations hit slowly until your brain can fully catch up. From that moment on, you’d wake up at night, remembering what it felt like to have his arms around you and how giddy it made you feel when his adorable worry made him panic.

Your lab partner was a similar story. Not the Saving-Your-Life part but the adorable worry. First day of class, your professor had picked partners for each of you and you ended up with Max. Pezzy, as he went by on local Spider-Man forums. The man loved to keep up with the local hero.

Teaming up with him was a stroke of luck. His cute fluffy hair, his tired eyes, his contagious laugh. And, of course, his worry three weeks into class when a bit of mercury got on your forearm.

As soon as it happened, you let out a sharp hiss and a curse, setting down the rest of the beaker before moving straight to the sink. Max followed, rational through his panic, directing me to wash it all off while he yelled for the professor to come over.

Luckily, you just had a mild rash for a while, but for the next two weeks of classes, Max hovered, making sure your bandage was always secure and that you were alright.

Altogether, the cuteness had you absolutely down bad for both men.

Finding out had you quite literally facepalming. How much more obvious could it have been? There’d been quite a few times you came across Spider-Man after he saved you. Sometimes he walked you home, sometimes he brought you snacks, sometimes he just wanted to take you up to a rooftop to have some company.

Yet you only ever saw Max in class. Otherwise he was busy. He’d always say work, but who’s schedule was that intense?

But their habits were identical when it came to you. The days Spider-Man walked you home were the days you didn’t have chemistry. The days you did have chem, Max told you to text him when you got home.

Both always worrying about you and always wanting to know you better. They had the same body language, the same inflections as they spoke, hell they had the same voice. How oblivious could you be?

So when you were kidnapped by some villain wanting to take Spider-Man down at his weak point, of course he rescued you. And of course, when he finally got you safely home, he hung upside down from your parent’s porch roof and unmasked himself to kiss you before he left, giving you a full view of Max’s face as he flushed red as the chemical burn you’d gotten all that time ago and swung away.

You’d immediately texted him, calling him a doofus.

After finding out, you find yourself both relieved and constantly stressing. On one hand you no longer had to try and pick between the two men since they were the same damn one but on the other now you had twice as much reason to worry about the hero.

He was your boyfriend, afterall, who wouldn’t worry?

However you allowed yourself the luxury of going with him on quieter nights, sitting on a safe roof top while he surveyed the surrounding blocks before moving on with you in one arm. You said it was to cure your boredom. To alleviate your worry.

Which it was.

But it was also to be able to appreciate the view as you went with him. The way the suit hugged his shoulders and chest was too good to let go unappreciated. Especially given the fact that he was yours. You could check him out all you wanted with no shame. You knew he did the same to you whenever you sat on the edge of a roof in his hoodie and a pair of leggings just waiting for him to come sweep you up again.

Maybe you were a distraction now since he was always worried about you both on and off patrol (and because he generally couldn’t keep his eyes off you-not since the first day he saw you) but you also kept him from being too lonely. Because even when you weren’t with him, he either had you in his ear or was texting you. You were his personal good luck charm and he was never letting you go.

Just as you were never letting go of your Spider-Max.

#frouse #drabbles #streamtube #twitch #pezzy #pezzy x reader #frouse x reader #spiderman #fanfic #spiderpezzy #just imagine him as a hero #or in that suit #he'd be so fine #im not ok #i need this now

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