#cw discussions of medical experimentation

[sleepyfan-blog]

Hunger and Thirst

Author's note: This is the second part of the Warp-cursed Guillilman fic. Original idea by @men-want-me-fish-fear-me. Masterlist is here.

tagged: @gallifreyianrosearkytiorsusan @wolf-tail @men-want-me-fish-fear-me

If anyone else wants to be tagged, please ask

warnings: male lactation, non-consensual body modification via magic, discussions of medical experimentation, drinking questionable fluids, please ask me to tag something if I've missed it/something bothers you

summary: Four aspirants sniff out something delicious to drink. Afterwards, Asterios updates his gene-sire on the fallout of that.

“Do you smell that?” Mekanilus asked his best friend and Brother, leaning into the other boy’s slightly larger form, his body aching from the most recent surgery that he’d gone through. It was an honor beyond honors to be in training on Maccrage’s Honor, of course.. But still, the young aspirant hoped that one of the Medicae would come by to give them the all-clear so that he and Aklesius and the rest of their squad of Ultramarine-Aspirants would be allowed to go back to their shared barracks room to try and sleep off the worst of the surgery pains. If things followed according to the previous patterns, their physical training would be lighter until their surgical wounds healed…

But that meant that they would be drilled more ruthlessly on the logistical side of being an Ultramarine. How to fill out forms properly, different terms of address to the endlessly different kinds of nobles and other important kinds of officials within the Imperium. How to out-think one’s opponent and of course, how to uphold the honor of the Ultramarines, Ultramar and their Gene-sire.

“The burning-chemical smell? That’s the stuff that they use in order to keep this place clean.” Aklesius answered with a tired yawn, shrugging the shoulder that Mekanilus was leaning on “Oi! Don’t lean on me! I hurt everywhere too, and your additional weight makes me hurt more.”

“I know what that smell is. I’m talking about the new one. The sweet-creamy smell. Can’t you smell it? It smells like food and I’m so hungry…” Mekanilus grumbled, smelling the air again. His mouth was watering and he swallowed down his spit, his stomach grumbling loudly.

“What are yo- oh! I smell it too, now.” Aklesius answered, taking in a deep breath in through his nose. “Maybe it’s what we’re supposed to eat?”

“You mean the chalky tasting nutrient paste? That doesn’t have much of smell at all.” Jupitalin huffs, shaking his head a little. 

“Maybe we’ve graduated to better tasting food rations, since we survived this round of surgeries?” Amik offers, a hopeful expression on his face. 

“Hopefully. I wonder why the medicae suddenly ran off? It’s not like the emergency alarms went off, which would mean that the ship was under attack… and I don’t think anyone was scheduled to come back from a mission today…” Mekanilus sighed, yawning and stretching as much as his surgical wounds would safely allow before he stood up and followed his nose to the source of the wonderful scent, his squad-brothers following close behind him.

The four aspirants found themselves in one of the medical labs of Maccrage’s Honor. The source of the scent was some kind of milk, set on one of the counters in collection jars, for reasons none of the four aspirants could discern. It looked like regular grox-milk. It smelled better, though.

“Well, I dunno about you three, but I’m going to try it.” Mekanilus stated, walking across the lab and up to the collection jars. His hands were shaky from the painful surgery he had been out of for less than half a day, but not so shaky as to spill the bottled milk. It’s scent was even more intensely delicious when the lid of the bottle was off, and it’s sweet and hearty taste is easy for his pain-cramped stomach to hold. He drains half of the bottle before offering it to Amik, who is a step and a half behind him. “Here, try this. It tastes good and I’m already feeling better.” Some of the pain had gone away, and his breathing was already easier.

“... Are you sure that we’re supposed to drink this? It… There’s probably a reason why it’s in one of the medical labs.” Amik asked, staring at the milk in the jar, taking a small and cautious sip. His eyes lit up and he drank several large mouthfuls. “I changed my mind. This is really good!”

Aklesius has grabbed a second container of milk and drains half of it, before handing the rest over to Jupitalin as the other two talked. “Maybe it’s a new formulation of liquid rations? It reminds me of grox-milk.”

“Except Grox-milk tastes grassy. This tastes a lot better.” Jupitalin answered after taking three huge gulps to finish off the container. He put the lid back on and placed it back where Aklesius had taken it from. “Wow, whatever is in that stuff, I’m feeling a lot better. How are you three doing?”

“I’m feeling a lot better.” Amik answers, a broad grin appearing on his face. He over-stretches a little as he places the empty bottle back on the Astartes-sized counter… But finds that his stitches don’t ache in protest of the movement. In fact… His pain has faded almost entirely. “Like… A lot better.” He reaches up to cautiously prod at the surgical bandage, to see how his body would respond.

Before he can do so, however, Mekanilus gently grabbed his hand, stopping him from doing so “Hey, I know that I’m also feeling like no pain, but they told us not to go poking at our wounds while they heal. We should listen to them.”

“So you were listening, at least to part of what I told you. Did you forget that you were also told not to wander off from areas that you were explicitly told you were allowed in?” The Ultramarines chief apothecary rumbled, a small frown on his face. “What are you four doing in this lab?”

“We smelled something delicious, and since enough time passed after our surgeries that it was time for us to eat, and we were all really hungry, we found something to eat. Or… Err, drink, I suppose.” Aklesius answered, pointing to the two empty bottles of milk “We each had half of a container of that milk. It’s really good. The pain is almost gone and I’m full of energy - we all are. Sir!” He remembered to address the older Ultramarine as sir somewhat belatedly. Hopefully he wouldn’t notice.

“... You did what?” The chief apothecary asked, a flash of emotion crossing very quickly across his face before it went to a neutral frown once again. “Why would you drink something you found in a medical lab?”

Oh. Uhm. He kind of had a point there. “Because it looked and smelled like milk, sir? And I had a tiny taste before I drank half of it sir. It didn’t taste bad, nor did it trigger the poison eating gland so I figured it was safe to drink.” Mekanilus answered, shifting uneasily from foot to foot. 

“... And all four of you drank half a container of this?” The chief apothecary asks, looking each of them up and down assessingly, icy gray eyes narrowing a little.

All four Aspirants nod “Yes sir.” They know better than to lie to a superior officer, even as uncertainty and worry begins to gnaw at each of them. 

“Jamis, Meloc. I need you two in here now. Right. The four of you are going to come with me and will submit to a full physical exam. If you are dismissed, you are to report to the medical bay at the beginning of your next waking shift, and will do so every day until I instruct you otherwise.” The chief apothecary ordered, calling in two more of his fellow medical professionals. “The substance you consumed has… Comes from a unique source, but… Could potentially be very beneficial, if what the tests I have run on that substance hold true.”

“Yes sir…” Each of the four aspirants answered with an obedient nod, following after the chief apothecary, uncertainty pulling at their hearts.

~

“My liege, here are the results of the test that we have performed on the… Substance you’ve been able to produce for the past week. Additionally, These are the reports on the four Aspirants who got into the medical laboratory that held the liquid and each drank half a bottle of the substance.” Asterios reported to his Primarch, setting down the reports on the other’s desk. 

Guilliman’s eyes looked up at him, from where he had been studying recent battlefield reports on the eastern front against the Tyranid fleet, along with the reports of Eldar raiders and T’au encroachment. One of his hands had come up to rub absent-mindedly at his aching chest. He was currently out of the Armor of fate - as its additional bulk and weight caused his nipples to constantly weep the warp-cursed substance into his body-glove, and while the recycling system within the armor dealt with the liquid in the same way it dealt with his normal bodily fluids… Guilliman had decided to instead wear more casual clothes. At least, while he was upon Maccrage’s Honor. 

The Ultramarine blue toga was made of reinforced clothing that could withstand small to medium lasgun fire and every kind of bladed weapon available in the Imperium. But the cloth was much lighter against his aching chest, and its removal while he rid himself of the fluid that collected in his pectoral muscles was much, much easier than getting in and out of the chest plates of the armor of fate over a dozen times in a day. 

“Thank you for the reports. I thought that the tentative trials on the effects of this… Substance with others was to start with the captive renegade astartes held in the brig, not with aspirants of the chapter?” Father asked as he set down the report he’d been reading through and reached out for the lab results.

“As I mentioned earlier, sir. Four aspirants snuck into the laboratory that held some of the fluid you’ve been secreting. They apparently could smell the scent of the fluid and were drawn to it, my lord.” Asterios explains, keenly aware of the fact that his gene-sire was juggling much and may not have caught all of what he had said the first time that he had said it. “And as you can see, based on the results so far… The… Ah… Substance has high nourishing factors for Aspirants. Based on not only how the four aspirants were fairing before they consumed the… Substance, and after, along with how they compare to their peers, after they have been taking the substance for several weeks.”

“... I see. Have there been any signs that the substance potentially weakens the mind or will to the effects of Warp or The Arch-Enemy? Do they show any increased risks for potential mutations?” Guilliman asked. He remembered better the… Encounter he had with the entity that had gifted him with the ability to create breast milk in the first place.

Roboute found himself in a light and airy temple. Beautifully painted frescos depicting scenes of life, birth and the creation of such for animals, plants and humans scrolled across the walls. Despite the graphic nature of the artistry, it was surprisingly tasteful. Sunlight, golden and warm shone through the colored glass on the eastern side of the temple.

Flowers of every type and description grew in carefully maintained planters that surrounded the circular antechamber that Roboute found himself on the outer edges of. In the middle of the large room was a tall, radiant figure whose face was obscured by the burning golden sun behind them.

He did not know how he came to this place, and the air had a thick, not-quite-there quality to it that his dreams… And occasional visions of places that never quite were, or once had been did. The being in front of him shone with a lavender-pink light. 

The lord-commander of the Imperium cleared his throat and asked “Where am I? Who are you? Why have I been brought here?”

“Peace, Son of Anathema. I mean you no harm, nor your sons, nor the mortals aiding you. You did me a tremendous kindness, by routing the ever-hungering swarm from the worlds I care for. You work so tirelessly, and have so many children to care for. I cannot do much, but I give you a small gift. The ability to feed the many sons you care for.” The Lavender-pink entity murmured, walking towards Guilliman.

“And if I refuse this gift?” The Regent asked, taking a half-step backwards before viridian vines bound his feet and legs in place, his arms locked behind his body.

“Come now. I can see into your hearts. You dearly, desperately wish to provide for those whom you love. To eventually live a life of peace and prosperity. While I cannot grant you that, I can grant you a measure of ability to nourish and strengthen your many sons.” The being murmured, their voice a sweet-hypnotizing choir of birds and bells. They reach out and touch his forehead in benediction, even as the ever-burning golden sun flares bright and hot, searing some of the outermost plants.

The entity sighs, shaking it’s veiled face “Your Father is quite possessive, Son of Anathema. But as I do not seek to harm or kill you, He cannot reach me in the seat of my power. This blessing I bestow upon you, Roboute Guilliman, Thirteenth son of Neoth. Of Humanity. Go forth and feed your children.”

He had blinked and found himself again in the ruins of the world that he had been fighting with his sons by his side and the astra millitarum supporting them. He had thought it a hallucination, or a brief, waking dream as he had been waiting for a report and had closed his eyes for a couple of moments to center himself as the last of the Tyranids had been killed and burned.

Roboute was… Fairly certain that had actually happened, given the sheer volume of fluid he was creating. While not enough to feed every single Astartes who claimed to be of his gene-line, he had filled enough containers to have roughly three gallons of the fluid available for consumption every day, since the fluid had started to leave his body. The primarch hoped that the fluid volume would not increase, as his chest and nipples already ached quite a bit as it was.

“I see. Please continue to monitor the four aspirants along with the rest of their cohort. If it proves that this… Fluid does continue to have such a marked positive effect upon them. I…” Guilliman sighed. It felt ridiculous to say outside, but if these results held true, he couldn’t ignore how useful the substance would be in lowering the rates of surgical rejection and mortality rates of aspirants “May authorize wider-spread use of the fluid in assisting the Aspirants, at least in the days following their surgeries, to better increase the odds of successful implantation and integration of the new organs and glands into their bodies during the process of becoming an Astartes.”

“... If I may speak frankly, my lord?” Asterios asked, waiting patiently for his lord father’s response.

“Yes, you may.” Father responded with a small wave of his hand.

“I feel that to do a proper study, more aspirants would need to be put on the warp-enhanced breast milk, sire. That way we would have a larger sample size, as four individuals is not nearly a large enough for a proper medical study for a substance like this.” Asterios paused for a couple of moments, steeling himself before charging onwards. Courage and honor. Even as his Primarch watched him with an inscrutable face and Sicarius vibrated silently at his left shoulder “I would also recommend we send samples off to close allied non-Guilliman line Marines for study in how their aspirants respond to the fluid as well, if possible. I would not inform them of… Of the precise origin of the fluid of course. Merely that it is an experimental supplement to be used in testing to see if it is beneficial to aspirants during their transition to Astartes, my lord.”

“... While your suggestion has merit, I am unsure if there will be enough to do a full medical study for multiple chapters of astartes. I am… Also concerned that… As this… Ability to produce breast milk was forced upon me by a Warp Entity, that there may be… Darker or Chaotic long-term effects that off-set the short-term positive benefits that we are currently beginning to see.” Roboute answered after several long moments of contemplation “There is also the fact that none of us are certain how long the breast milk can last before it sours. Or if it is Warp-touched to the point where it cannot be affected by normal bacteria. Which would raise other concerns.”

“As you say, my lord. Do I have your permission to do a study on our own aspirants, my lord? I will ensure that all proper safety protocols will be followed and ensure that they are monitored spiritually by both a chaplain and one of the Librarius.” Asterios asked, waiting patiently for a response.

“... You do.” Guilliman answered, sighing internally. If the warp-milk truly could do what the initial results were saying it could… It would lower the rejection and death rates of Aspirants significantly… At least for those of his own gene-line. 

“Thank you, my lord. I will send you weekly updates on how the participants of the study are doing, until they become full battle brothers. Or their autopsy reports, should they fail the process, my lord.” Asterios murmured, saluting his gense-sire. He paused to pick up the filled containers of warp-milk at the edge of the room before leaving. He would ensure that it would be a double-blind medical study for the aspirants involved, to hopefully not skew the data one way or the other.

[finniestoncrane]

Kink Dialogue Prompts - If you fancy, any of the following with Egon Spengler (Receiving?) :3c:

🌱 Virginity, 🥇 First Time, ✏️ Marking/Bititng, 🩺 Doctor RP (Giving), 🔴 Humiliation

Experimental Methods

Egon Spengler x Female!Reader, word count: 3.5k HELLO!? finally another excuse to write nasty again for egon, my fuckin beloved ;-; also i have been COOKING this one and it got away from me so it is LONG lmao mostly because i didn't realise you said any of and not all of the prompts oops and then i also added in prem.ejac. my actual beloved👻 request info • prompt list • send me a request • kofi • masterlist minors DNI!! 🔞 cw: medical kink, losing virginity, marking kink, humiliation kink, premature ejaculation

The walk from the elevator to your apartment door at the end of the hall felt like it took an eternity, definitely down to the dead silence between you and Egon which had been ongoing since the moment you left the restaurant down the block. He was often quite quiet once a date had ended, but this was different. There was a distinctly awkward air to the way he shuffled uncomfortably along beside you, and the soft sigh he had let out as he agreed to walk you to your door didn't exactly settle your nerves. That discomfort in the pit of your stomach was only exacerbated by the way he avoided all eye contact once you had placed the key in the lock, and stood, turned to him, as you held the door ajar. "Egon, I think you should come in so we can talk."

"Talk?"

"Mhm."

You nodded solemnly as you headed inside. He was a sweet man, very kind, very straight to the point. Besides the very limited bursts of anger you had seen him display at questioning skeptics and otherwise disinterested city officials, you couldn't imagine him wanting to harm anyone. So you had to be the one to broach the subject, since it seemed like he never would.

Once inside, you watched him make his way to the sofa, sitting on the very edge with his hands placed on his knees, palms rubbing nervously at the woolen fabric. When you were sitting beside him, you could hear his shallow breathing and the sound of him swallowing his nerves. As much as you were apprehensive about this converation, it spurred you on to know you were putting him out of his misery.

"Look, Egon. I know you're a sweet guy, but I don't want you to be uncomfortable just so you don't hurt my feelings. If you don't want to see me anymore in a... romantic way... then we don't have to."

"What?"

"We can meet for coffee or go out for food alone or with other people, but as friends, y'know?"

"Yes. That is generally something we can do. I appreciate your time, and for being so forward with your feelings. If there's anything I can do to change your mind then-"

You raised your hands up, shaking your head in confusion.

"Wait, wait, wait. Change my mind? I... I'm not breaking up with you, Egon. I'm making it easier for you to break up with me."

His face was blank, except for the slight hint of confusion, and you could almost hear the gears of his mind grinding away as he puzzled over where you got the notion that he might want to break up with you. It didn't take him long though. He wasn't oblivious. The evidence was definitely piling up, although the intentions behind it had been lost in translation.

"I don't want to break up with you. I enjoy spending time with you. We share a lot of the same attributes in common and you are extremely tolerable of any discussions about my various interests."

"How romantic."

You smiled, emphasising the playful tone of your slight dig.

"And of course, I find you attractive. Very appealing, physically as well as emotionally and intellectually. Which is precisely the problem."

Egon sat in silence for a few moments, as though he expected you to psychically glean what he meant by that statement, waiting on your response. But when it was apparent that you had none, he took a deep breath and continued.

"This is our fifth date. I expect that you'll want to have sexual relations, or at least some form of physical contact beyond what we've experienced thus far."

Your eyes widened, surprised by how blunt he was, if not more technical or formal than you expected, and you stumbled over your words.

"I, uh... w-well, that would be nice! But, if that's not your thing then of course we don't have to."

Shocking you both, he abruptly removed his hand from his own leg and placed it on your knee, both of you looking at it before he snatched it back.

"I want to, of course. But, speaking openly, I haven't ever experienced that. Yet. With anyone."

In absolute disbelief, you blinked as your body moved backwards a little, your nose twitching, raising your mouth in a curious and surprised sneer.

"You're a virgin? You. Are a virgin. You?"

"Does that factual statement require this much questioning?"

"A little bit, yeah! I mean... I would've been all over you four dates ago if you'd seemed a bit more at ease with it. I don't know how you've gone forty years without someone-"

He interrupted you with a slight frown, lips pursed as he waved you off before he spoke.

"I've spurned a few advances, but believe it or not, there's something about my personality that other find rather..."

"Abrupt. Formal. Disinterested?"

Egon nodded in agreement, very well aware that you used the words with no hint of criticism or negativity, but rather truthfully, and, oddly enough to him, with an almost loving tone.

"And yet you find those attributes appealing."

"Of course! They come in a very nice package."

You leaned into him, placing your hand on his thigh, squeezing it gently between your fingers as you edged closer to him on the sofa. He watched your fingers moving, eyes closing as he took in the sesation of the touch. Even that smallest gesture was enough to excite him. Your hand, moving further up his long, slender leg, fingers tensing into the muscle and releasing their grip as your palm snaked higher and higher, closer and closer.

"Oh, ok. You definitely are interested then..."

It was impossible not to notice the distinct bulging at the front of his slacks, and you felt immediately bad for pointing it out, but Egon smiled, nervously adjusting his glasses and clearing his throat.

"I wouldn't have lied to you. Besides, I knew the biological response would betray me eventually. I'm only lucky to have gone this long with the problem arising, for want of a better word."

Taking stock of the situation, you considered the next steps. You didn't want to rush him, by any means, but you didn't want to let the opportunity go to waste. An intimate conversation could lead to a more intimate encounter, and that was definitely what you had been hoping for tonight.

"Egon, we can do whatever you want tonight. You can go home, with no hard feelings, and we can continue dating and wait until you're ready. Or we can give it a go. If you want to stop, we can. But I think this could be a nice experience for us, as a... couple. Let me guide you through this. I'll be very gentle, unless of course you tell me otherwise."

His face lit up with a warm smile, clearly in appreciation of your gentle offer and your efforts to make light of what was most definitely an awkward conversation. Still, though, he seemed too nervous to speak much, so the ball was once again in your court.

"Ok, so... is it the skills involved that are causing you problems? Or...?"

"I suppose so, but like most other things, you gain experience with practice..."

Your stomach flipped in excitement, a heat prickling over your skin at the notion that you might be involved in this practice.

"... It's an area I haven't really been involved with before. It's not as though you're something to study, to examine and figure out."

"That's... exactly what it's like, actually."

"Hm."

"I mean, that's what it could be. If that makes things easier for you. Maybe a little bit of roleplay, putting you in a position of control that you're familiar with... maybe that would make it a bit easier for you?"

Egon paused for a moment, considering your suggestion with a hopeful look, nodding silently before he spoke.

"Your hypothesis is intriguing, and I do think it would be beneficial to at least test it in an experiment before we rule it out completely as a possible solution. If... if you're sure...?"

Placing your hand over his, you squeezed it, reassuringly, as you leaned in to him.

"It's a new experience, yes. But don't worry, I'll help you through it... Doctor."

His eyes lit up, a fire suddenly burning in the pit of his stomach. Standing from the sofa, he took your hand and brought you up to him. Egon's eyes flitted towards the door to your bedroom.

"In that case then, please come with me and we can begin this examination."

You reached for his hand, hoping he'd guide you romantically to the privacy of your bedroom, but he was already fast ahead of you, his long limbs gaining the distance with his wide strides as you hurried excitedly into the room behind him.

"Now, if you'll lie back on the bed, please, and take a deep breath. Let me take care of you. I'm sure that whatever is wrong, I can provide some assistance."

Obedient, and with a level of excitement you weren't afraid to show, you bounced onto the mattress and laid back, inhaling and exhaling slowly and carefully as you listened to Egon pacing around the bed, finding the best place to conduct his examination. Standing on your right, looking down at you, you watched as he procured a small notepad and almost pointlessly short pencil from the inside pocket of his suit jacket.

"I think we should begin by noting the first examples you found of paranormal occurrences. Were the internal or external?"

Narrowing your eyes in confusion, you tried to think of an answer to the question, but before you could find a suitable one he had moved on to the next.

"If neither of those are pertinent to your experience, can you tell me if you had any sensations or evidence of being posessed?"

"What? Egon, what are you talking about?"

Blinking twice, he lowered himself to you, bending at the hip, and whispering in a lower voice as though he were trying not to break the roleplay experience.

"This is my area of expertise. The paranormal. I am examining you as a doctor of such, so... are you experiencing anything paranormal?"

Quickly catching on, you mustered up a few symptoms for him to use in his diagnosis.

"Oh... uh... yes! Well, Doctor Spengler, the reason I came to see you is that I've had a strange onset of problems, ones no ordinary doctor could diagnose. I think you might be my only hope now."

Reaching out, you took his hand in yours and squeezed, looking at him with wide, pleading eyes.

"And what might these symptoms be?"

"Well, I'm not sure if they're all related, but I do know that I've been feeling very irritable lately. Completely exhausted and filled with stress and tension. It's like there's something inside of me that I just need to get out, something that's controlling my behaviour."

"It sounds like you might need a formal adjuration addressed to the demonic presence that has decided to utilise you as its host."

"I need a what?"

"In layman's terms, an exorcism."

"Ah! Wow, that sounds very serious, Doctor Spengler."

The way you spoke his name, each consonant, each syllable, lingering on your lips and tongues, lustful and seductive, had him clearing his throat and swallowing the building, shaking nerves that it conjured.

"It can be. Could you detail when you feel these symptoms for me?"

"Hm... they mostly surface when I'm around my boyfriend. He's real neat, I think you'd like him. He's so intelligent, so sweet, and he's super hot."

"Ahem... he sounds, delightful."

"You don't think the demon, or whatever is inside of me, is targeting him, do you, Doctor Spengler?"

You forced a concerned pout onto your lips, looking up at Egon through your batting eyelashses as you watched him try to recover from not only the insinuation that he was hot, but that you considered him to be your boyfriend.

"I see... then I believe that perhaps this is not anything paranormal but very natural. I think a release of tension, of a more physical or... coital nature, is the required prescription here."

With his cheeks flushing at the mere mention of sexual activity, Egon adjusted his glasses once more as he avoided eye contact with you.

"Oh, thank you, Doctor Spengler! So... what should I do about this predicament? Do you think you could maybe administer the correct dosage for me? Perhaps we can do the procedure here?"

The deep red blush seeped further across Egon's skin, his pupils wider than you'd seen them before. Quickly, and with no attempt to do so discreetly, he moved his hands down in front of him, holding the notepad strategically in front of his pants.

"Are you hiding something down there, Doctor Spengler?"

Egon stuttered, dropping the note pad before bending to catch it swiftly, the tent at the front of his slacks visible for only a brief moment, but long enough that you could ascertain what he was working with below the tweed and formality.

"I-I-I'm... I-it's... I apologise, I didn't mean to rush things by getting ahead of myself. This is embarrassing."

"Oh, come on, Egon! You know as well as I do that it's a natural reaction. If you're going to be ashamed of anything, I would say it should be how easy it was to get you as flustered as you are... I mean look at your cheeks! Tell me... is any other part of you blushing pink?"

The silence was almost deafening, and he was once again unable to look into your eyes. Fearing you had taken it a little too far in your taunting, given it was his first time, you were quick to apologise, sitting up on the bed and holding his arm. But he brushed you off, working on his nervous habit of fiddling with the legs of his glasses as he replied.

"No need to apologise, I'm just quietly reconciling the facts. Yes, it was embarrassing, but your taunting made it worth it. It definitely played a fact in the increase in arousal, it would be a fascinating thing to study if I had any spare time. I'd even suggest that we experiment with that more this evening, but I'm worried it might lead to a quick conclusion to our combined efforts if the external stimuli is too... well, stimulating."

"How about we just remember that you're into it and add it to our list, hm?"

"We have a list?"

You eased yourself up onto your knees on the bed, holding on to the lapels of Egon's suit jacket as you watched his Adam's apple bob, his chest rising and falling as your hands soothed over his body.

"Now we do."

Your lips met his in a soft, interlocking embrace, with Egon catching on quickly after a sharp inhale. You could feel his smile against yours as the passion deepened, his hands falling to your sides as he held you steady as you balanced yourself against his surprisingly sturdy frame. Letting out a deep sigh as his hands curled around you, his palms flat against your spine as he stroked up and down, you found yourself leaning into him more, fingers pressing into the back of his neck as you kept him kissing you.

One of your hands pushed into his thick, tight curls as the other drifted back around and down his front, your fingers skirting over the buckle of his belt and hooking just below it, tugging his hips towards you. He came easily, putting up no resistance to your desire to have him closer to you.

Egon's breath haltered as he watched you in stunned silence, your fingers expertly, and quickly, unbuckling his belt and slowly, deftly, unzipping his pants. Looking up to him to make sure he was still on board, you caught his eyes, pupils wide, behind the slightly fogged lenses of his glasses. In response to the question you hadn't asked yet, you caught out of your peripheral the slight twitch of his cock, waiting impatiently for your touch.

As seductively as you could, you pulled his slacks down slightly, enough that you could hook your thumbs into the waistband of his white, y-fronts, watching as more of his cock was revealed until it sprang over the top.

He was an impressive length, and a thickness you could get used to with some practice. Looking at it, you considered that was probably why he so often wore looser slacks, given there was a lot for him to attempt to conceal. Without even realising it, you had begun to lick your lips, trying not to drool over yourself. So, to satiate your growing hunger, you wrapped your palm around the base of his length and began to stroke it.

Your movements were gentle, not too slow but not too fast. You were sure he had experienced some level of physical intimacy before, and he couldn't have gone forty years without some level of masturbation. Surely... but there was always a chance...

Either way, your ministrations against his thickening length had it pulsing and throbbing against the flat of your hand as you dragged it up and down, stroking his cock in rhythym with his breathing and matching the pace of his subconscious and almost imperceptible thrusting.

Despite having a grown man under your power, you were still preoccupied with his comfort, worried that you were moving things too quickly. So to counter your concerns, and keep things as pleasant as possible for you both, you took to looking deep into his eyes, past the lenses of his round frames. It was a piercing stare, one that was uncomfortable for only a moment before it deepened the intimacy, letting you see him in a completely new light as his jaw hung open and his tongue lapped at the air. You couldn't help but smile back at the lopsided grin he wore, your heartbeat unsteadied by the mere suggestion that you were making him happy.

A small, sultry giggle escaped your throat, and Egon groaned in reply, bucking his hips forward,standing on tiptoe and shuddering as he balanced himself back onto his heels again. Only when you felt the cooling of the warm liquid spread over your fingers did you realise what had happened.

With a quick glance down, you could see the last threads of cum spilling ont your hand from the flushed, pink head of Egon's cock. Drops and strands dripped down your knuckles, and as you loosened your grip, the action accompanied by a soft whimper from Egon, you fought the urge to lick your hand clean. There would be opportunities in the future to taste him, right now the priority was to assuage the concern you could see growing on his furrowed brow. You could feel your own underwear soaking in arousal at the idea of pushing Egon to climax so quickly, but he didn't seem to feel the same.

Looking to him, your mischievous grin was quickly contorted into an easy, comforting smile as you stood up and quickly kissed him. If your lips were firm against his, then there was no qay he could finish the entirely unnecessary apology that he was trying to make for what he felt was a speedy response to your touch. Resting your forehead against his, and letting his large nose press into yours, you pulled away from the deep kiss, a slowing tirade of softer ones following it until you were sure he would be quiet.

"It's ok, honestly. There's no need to apologise."

"Are you sure? I'd hate to be a disappointment."

"Hardly! In fact..."

You punctuated each word with a kiss, covering his cheeks, his chin, his neck and his collarbone in them.

"... I think it was pretty hot having that kind of power over you."

When you moved your lip back over his neck, you allowed your teeth to graze across his skin before sinking them in, closing your lips over and sucking at him, feeling his flesh warm in your mouth and delighting in the wet, smacking sound as you let go. With your drool settling in a strand against him, you bit your lip, suddenly a little embarrassed by the very forward nature of the bite. You waited for Egon's approval, or disapproval, of the flurry of affection, giggling when he finally spoke.

"To clarify, that bite was a positive response, yes?"

"Of course! I just wanted to... mark my territory. This way, whenever someone looks at you, they'll know you belong to someone. Just in case anyone else gets any ideas about being your first before I can get to you again."

Egon's fingers twitched, reachign instinctively in that recognisable flustered action to adjust his glasses, one side of his mouth lifted into a coy, but satisfied grin.

[dnpanimationstudioclone]

Will we get to see Sir Pentious's backstory too? I want to know what his backstory look like in your rewrite

Oh yeah! I def got plans with Sir P along for the rest of the gang. CW discussion of child death, experimentation of sorts,(general spoilers S2, brief discussion of what was shown during that leak phase)

So far, the main concept idea I have for My Sir P was that he was an aspiring inventor. Filled with grand ideas and aspirations but constantly dismissed, overlooked by others and for most of his life, spent stuck doing not exactly fulfilling maintenance/repair jobs just to make a living. before finally getting the chance, becoming involved in some shady unethical medical company using poor sick kids, to test medical devices on. ⛑️⚕️ One of those devices included a 🐍snake venom extractor🐍. Big thing is….they often made the problems they tried to treat but….often weren’t able to treat them….They weren’t exactly doing well to begin with and their families couldn’t afford to get better help and were desperate to just have a general living…they had no idea what the place was fully doing with their kids💔

While he wasn’t getting them….”prepared “ himself, he was still aware of what was going on but with his position(especially cause of his roots) aswell as not wanting to lose his job and best chance to become an inventor….didnt do anything and just kept trying to make something that work. He told himself it would all be worth it, for society, the greater food, that it wouldn’t be for nothing, that they wouldn’t….

Something he’d do atleast for the kids out of kindness(and guilt) was invent some toys they could play with. They really liked them…and him💔 🧸

Brainstormed stuff on HTH @hotter-than-hell-rewrite server and inspired by @stillwaitin76 MASH inspiration stuff, reminded me of that whole “Hawkeye and the chicken situation”. Sir P at first says he was having his inventions being tested on baby mice or baby chicks. Baxter-I mean, kinda a bummer about those baby animals but it’s not like companies now a days don’t practice animal testing themselves. The medical field did all sorts of things back then that’d be considered far more unethical today. It’s a pretty gray situation. And for what it’s worth, wasn’t for something unnecessary, u were testing out important medical items that could help people. I don’t see how that would condemn you to here.

Sir P-But there could’ve been a better way. We could’ve gotten some adults atleast. They were so young and full of life and their own dreams, they trusted me, to help them and-

Baxter-Hang on how would baby animals understand all-…they weren’t mice or chicks were they?

Oh! And the Egg Bois…Hell’s clever way to remind him of his sins. Always being followed by small, fragile lifeforms that put their full trust in you only to often get hurt or even worse for your projects….

I def want his sin to be involved with his inventions or atleast ambitions causing harm in some way. I feel like that would fit into his character and what he was doing in Hell more in my opinion. How he was in the show, alive and his OG inaction feels really different from the Sir P we were watching and what he was doing to really feel connected in my opinion. And with all the other stuff that was happening, there wasn’t really much foreshadowing shown of his past to begin with before his redemption which I feel like was a missed opportunity for his arc. TW, child death, ptsd/trauma.

What do u think? Any ideas you have for Sir P and his backstory? What do u think of his OG one? I’d love to know 💖

[evo-lutioneternal]

// Content Warning:

This blog will occasionally discuss topics of cults, religious trauma, and experimentation/medical malpractice. These topics will be addressed with the "cw: [topic]" tag. Please block these tags accordingly

Outside of that, this blog is low-stakes. The mod is not a huge fan of a lot of angst so I will mostly remain lighthearted and silly //

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Hello rotomblr.

I'm Evian, a university student at Naranja/Uva/Blueberry Academy. Any pronouns for me are fine.

I am what people would call a "chosen" — my patron legendary is Eternatus. Yes, the one blamed for Galar's darkest days.

Rest assured I have no intent on destroying anything or whatever. I and my... patron just wish to live quietly. Evil teams who wish to "recruit" me for their.. purposes are not welcome. Please leave and rethink your actions.

Pelipper and Musharna Mail are on, Magic Anons are off.

◇

I have one pokemon, a Hatterne named Astella. She was gifted to me by a close friend and she is my most trusted companion. Without her a lot of my daily tasks would be much harder to achieve

◇

My Tags

#☆Evian Answers -> Answered Asks

#☆Stellardex -> Important Posts

◇

Welcome to the OOC bit.

☆ Pelipper Mail | Musharna mail is ON

☆ Musharna Malice is ON

☆ Sentient pokémon + Legendary pokémon can interact!

☆ Canon character RP blogs can interact!

☆ Magic Anons are OFF

Hi again! It's Necro with another pokemon irl blog :) - this time we have the "chosen" of Eternatus! Though... something makes me think that they're not human at all... Probably just me though.

(The gimmick here is Evian is their world's Eternatus, but they are hiding that fact and claiming they are the chosen. That is a lie so they aren't bothered by people. NOBODY IN CHARACTER KNOWS THIS EXCEPT FOR ASTER)

I also run @4ster-bl4ster , so check out my other blog!! These two will interact occasionally :)

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General tidbits:

No NSFW with this account, but suggestive is fine. Evian might not get the jokes though

I literally made this blog to be silly and have fun, so please don't take things too seriously :')

If things don't fit 100% with people's canon it's fine, like I don't mind working with ppl. Again, this is just me making a blog for my pokemon oc for the sake of havin fun.

Here's a bit about myself:

Name is Necro/Nec

Main blog is @the-necrobotanist [follows and likes are from @wyrmoffthestr1ng though]

Pronouns are He/They

20 y/o, Illustration major in college

LGBTQIA+ (I'm trans/nonbinary!)

I mainly dabble in Wizardblr lol

Pokémon is my hyperfixation, and I am an avid shiny hunter :)

Chronically ill, and I have a lotta anxiety so I often will explain things in tags if I'm worried abt something.

If you want more just like, go to my main or smthn.

I can't think of anything else to add to this part right now, so I'll add things here as needed.

Btw no TERFS, Zi*nists, or your like. I will block you on sight. Get out

[aceparagoned]

In reference to this post I made about a couple of weeks ago, I'd like to go further into depth of how Hikaru's Crux was studied. In this headcanon, please be mindful of the following content warnings: child abuse, torture in a medical setting, and the ethics surrounding human experimentation in the name of "science."

When Hikaru was born and her Crux was discovered, scientists were intrigued on how this particular human could have developed another organ in the womb when her own mother, Katsumi, didn't have one. During Katsumi's entire pregnancy, the additional organ was discovered during routine ultrasounds, but there were discussions into the ethics of testing on an unborn fetus that could lead to Katsumi possibly miscarrying. Not just that, but Tamotsu, Hikaru's father, objected to the point of practically almost getting arrested for threatening to hurt the scientists that wanted to experiment on his wife and unborn daughter.

So, they held off until Hikaru was born so as to carry out their experiments when the Crux was fully developed.

This wasn't met without a great deal of resistance from not just Katsumi, but Hikaru's father, Tamotsu. The both of them vehemently argued to not test their daughter at all, thinking that she deserved so much more than being nothing more than something to gawk at because of being born with something else that no one else, at the time, possessed. For at least five years, Hikaru was able to grow up in a happy family until she was voluntarily given up to participate in the PIPE's training program in an attempt to turn the tides of war. They only gave her up on the promise that no experiments would be carried out on her because of her Crux.

The PIPE, desperate to continue living instead of losing the war against the Gnocem, promised they did. However, promises can be broken and it's one of the PIPE's horrible secrets that they've kept under lock and key this entire time.

See, after Hikaru had been given up by her parents, things were okay for a time. She was properly cared for, treated with respect, and told that things were going to be okay. That was, until, the same scientists who were intrigued when she was still in her mother's womb arrived and brokered a deal with the PIPE: they can test on her all they wanted if it'd produced the results they were looking for and that was to be humanity's weapon in the fight against the Gnocem. The deal was agreed upon and this is where things had taken a turn for the worst for Hikaru, who still was a child at this point.

At first, the experimentation wasn't that bad. Just a few shots and blood tests, really. But when that didn't reveal anything regarding the capabilities of Hikaru's Crux, they had to get "creative" with their testing and by being "creative", they resorted to procedures where sights like these [CW: needles in image] were unfortunately common practice with Hikaru strapped to a cold, metal surgical table and pleading for them to stop hurting her and that she was sorry for whatever she did to deserve this punishment.

Sadly, her pleas fell on deaf ears because it went so much further than just injecting her with multiple drugs. They wanted to see how she'd be able to heal and how much pain she could withstand. So, they went through with not just stabbing and lacerating her, but full on maiming by shooting her through her hands and feet. Again, her cries for mercy went ignored. However, these extreme methods of testing her endurance and pain tolerance finally paid off during her training regimen that she was still expected to go through. They ultimately made her stronger, and in their eyes fortunately able to withstand much more in terms of increased training.

Yet, no one thought about how she was still just a child. During these experiments and training, they slowly whittled away the bright and happy girl that started on this because she was promised that she was gonna be a hero and save the day! How could a child resist that? The PIPE and the scientists kept on saying that this was all in the name of making her a hero, like they promised she'd be.

Was being a hero worth all this pain and misery, though? That was one of Hikaru's many thoughts while she was in her room, quietly sobbing into her pillow at night until she finally was able to sleep, having passed out from the pain and discomfort she was in. Hikaru also learned that no matter how many times she cried or apologized, they'd still carry out the experiments on her, so eventually she'd just lie there and take it, trying to not make a single noise for fear that it'd only ramp up the experiments' intensity on her.

And the way that she was rewarded for this? They simply gave her treats, which were one of her only comforts. She couldn't contact her parents to tell them what was going on and the reports that they received told them that Hikaru was being well taken care of and was happy. Nothing was wrong in their eyes, even as they kept on forgetting the most important aspect of this whole matter: Hikaru was still a child. Yet, if it produced results such as giving them little victories here and there on the war, so be it — they would continue this extreme training regimen and keep on lying to her parents that she was being treated the way that they had promised. To this day, they still don't know what sort of hell their own daughter has been through and Hikaru doesn't want to upset them by telling them the truth, either, because of how these experiments gave them the stability that they have today.

As Hikaru grew up and became more powerful (along with being broken down and molded back into what the PIPE wanted of her), the experiments eventually ceased altogether, but this gave her a lasting fear of anything medical because of the hell she was put through. As previously mentioned, Hikaru is very critical of others tending to her injuries that she sustains in fights since she'd rather be the one to patch herself up because she doesn't trust anyone else to do it. Those in the medbay only admonish her for getting hurt for the umpteenth time and don't have any sympathy for her, no matter how grievous the injury really is. So, she'll often be by herself, dressing her own wounds while trying to stifle her sounds of discomfort however possible. This behavior of hers is still prevalent to this day because of how deep seated her own fear of anything medical is concerned — all because the PIPE saw her as nothing more than a weapon instead of a human being.

As far as anyone's concerned, the PIPE is heralded as this pillar of strength and hope, but no one publicly knows just what it took to get there. It's still classified information that only those who are higher up the food chain are privy to and have sworn to never reveal to the public the atrocities they committed to attain the semblance of peace that they have today. Anyone who tries to speak up about the human rights abuses they committed is silenced, never to be seen nor heard from again.

To Watanabe and others, the PIPE is nothing more than a shining beacon of peace and prosperity in the world and nothing shall ever taint that pristine image that they've cultivated for themselves all these years.

[sleepydross]

Chapter One, Route_B: A Hard Left Turn

A Chapter of the 'SEER' or 'Spontaneous Edifice Emergence / Reification' Storyline. This is Route_B. For Route_A, see the link included.

https://www.tumblr.com/sleepydross/736565213088858112/chapter-one-routea-clerks-too-a-chapter-of?source=share

CW: Gore, body horror, extreme death and dismemberment, surreal concepts, disgusting imagery, a lot of really quite rude words (I said fuck folks Im sorry), implications of loss, plainly stated memory alteration and manipulation, horror in general.

Excerpt, 'Dreams, And Their Implications,' Dr. Alex Sing, 2023

'…The understanding of dreams has come a long way, in recent years. We've seen sleep studies, and brain scans, and complicated medical procedures involving the implantation of probes in the brain and the use of radiological dyes. We have seen brilliant doctors, brilliant scientists, translate the language of the brain into perceptible images, things we can look at to see what people see when they sleep.

What most of you haven't seen is the secret, concealed studies that have been done into dreams and their… atypical side effects on local reality. In a number of cases, highly active psionics (Humans with the natural capability towards psychic phenomenon) have outright distorted reality around them during particularly intense dreams. This is, in fact, a detectable distortion due to the common presence of exotic particles and low level radiation.

In fact, the fabric of reality is what we are here to discuss. Some time ago, scientists working for the Department of Unnatural / Supernatural Knowledge, DUSK, discovered that this fabric could be willfully manipulated - and unwillfully. The very concept of luck is a manipulation of randomness in a local area, not a change in reality itself, but a wrinkling of probability…

And with this discovery came the first breakthrough in direct measure of the fabric of reality.

With THAT discovery, the scientists of DUSK discovered that the latent alterations made by dreams were growing more widespread, even in those not terribly active, those lacking psionic capability. Concurrently, a rise in psionic capability was recorded, and has been recorded every single year since.

But the reason why eluded them, has eluded them. Their experimentation began in 1971.

We have questions.

Did their experiment cause this? Or did they merely expand human consciousness into uncharted waters?

We don't know what could lie in those terrible, black depths, in the ocean outside of our collective thought based tidepool…

However, we are smart enough to fear it, unlike our predecessors.'

"I want to know what the FUCK is going on!" Haller shouted, standing in the action room. The site was deep black, so far off the grid and so unregistered that no one present even had so much as a dress shoe on - the FBI and CIA had erected it for counter terrorism reasons, erected being a strong word for appropriating an abandoned warehouse near a defunct rail line about six hours outside of New York City.

Outside of the blacked out windows, only forest and darkness waited. It was the middle of the damned night, and Haller had just arrived. The helicopter on the roof was already working up to beating gravity into submission, the soundproofing turning the thump-swah of its blades into weak vibrations one could only detect if they knew there was a helo taking off in the first place.

On the main screen, in place on the north wall, she stared at satellite photographs of an area approximately as far from NYC as the black site itself, which was little comfort considering that the area was apparently, very suddenly, taller than the empire state building and approximately a half mile in diameter.

"Ma'am, I assure you, we're trying to figure it out," Agent Muskwe said, quietly. Haller watched him sip his coffee and gesture at the screen. "Ground images."

An image replaced the satellite photos, digitally signed as being taken by field team November, one of Haller's favorite teams. Their names were classified, but she knew-

"What the hell?" she whispered. The image description said that the picture was taken five hundred and seventy yards from the 'border,' which had not been defined in any meaningful sense. All she could assume was that it meant the border of the gray, formless, bizarre zone they had looked at from above - a cacophony of squares and rectangles, impossible rooftop geometries laid in and around and over one another.

The 'border' looked like a wall of roiling, nearly oily fog. The next image was zoomed in, and appeared to show trees near to the border withering, branches blackened and dark and odd - wrong, stripped of leaves, coated in some shiny, slick, dark grease. On this image, the description said that even five hundred yards and change away, it stank like the parking lot of an abandoned fast food restaurant. Colorful descriptions were included, of disgusting rot stink and french fry smell and the hellish scattering of other disgusting odors…

Spoiled beef, rotting chicken, soggy and deeply moldy bread…

These descriptions were wholly unnecessary, but greatly appreciated. Haller needed every detail she could possibly get.

"Skip the pictures. November would've sent video," she said, already irritated when the next image was just a further zoom into the fog. Through it, she could see light, the pictures having clearly been taken in the dark. "Show me that, make sure everyone who needs them gets the images."

"Yes, ma'am," Muskwe replied, and the screen went dark. Moments later, a video frame opened, and then played. Compares to the hardware of the past, it was the highest quality video she'd ever seen, especially on a screen so large - save perhaps in a movie theater. Their video, however, had all sixty frames per second, crisp and clear.

"Check for the recording," November One said. "November one. Steadfast. Check."

"November two. Iron. Check."

"November three. Resolute. Check."

"November four. Eternal. Check."

"Alright, gang's all here," Steadfast, November One, said.

"Christ, this fucking STINK," Iron muttered. "We ought get goddamn hazard pay for this shit. It smells like a rotting corpse tossed in a dumpster near a particularly fucking shit drivethrough."

"Oil and diesel, too… gasoline, maybe propane. Smells like chemicals, under and around it all," Eternal added.

"Button up, whiners. Iron, light rig, take point. Etty, back him up with the shotgun, and don't fuck it up and shoot HIM. Reso, pull up the rear."

"Sir, yes sir!" they said in unison. Haller smiled. She liked November for a reason, a lot of reasons. November One's insistance they call her 'sir' was one of them. Out there, doing the work they did, they had some latitude to be weird. It was better than sitting in a goddamn field office all the time, poring over the most irrelevant shit on Earth.

The feed swapped then, to Iron's lightrig camera, and then… the rig flared on, bathing the fog in shockingly bright light. They marched across the field, orderly and in a line, a weapon in frame now and then as they walked. The closer they got the fog, the stranger it got, less white than before, and then swirling in a shiny, chemical-sick rainbow like a dribbling of oil floating on a puddle.

"Can't do it, sir," Reso said, finally. The line stopped. "I'm gonna pop, man, just fucking howl and puke."

"Professional," Steadfast muttered. "Mask up, though. Making me dizzy, too. Ought to call for hazzies. Reso, get out that vial of peppermint oil."

"It's like White River all over again," Rso muttered - but he complied, dabbing some of that oil on the filters of their gas masks. They sealed the high tech things with faint hisses, lenses shining. The peppermint oil was an old trick, from back in the before times, when Resolute was a nurse. Designated medic suited him better, with a gun in hand. "Feed's a mess, sir. We need to drop the rig. It's too foggy, ought to use mask optics."

"Make it so," she replied. In moments, after shuffling, annoyance, grunting and bad static, the light rig went dark, and then hit the ground. Pale, ugly green flooded the frame, and suddenly… they could see, the footage digitally enhanced and highly processed in near real time. "Better?"

"Clear as day," Reso replied. They returned to their march, approaching that ugly, roiling oil fog again. Through it now, a huge glowing sign could be seen, standing on a thick red pole, like-

"Huh… Megaburger," Haller murmured, baffled by that. She knew the colors, knew the ghostly specter of its shape. Silently, before the fog wall, Iron removed his camera and pointed it upwards without slowing their approach. It continued upwards apparently indefinitely, obscuring everything inside. Weather patterns in the area had gone to shit, it was what first alerted them - something was wrong when they were getting hit by sheets of rain in the middle of a New York winter.

"Rain's warm, what the fuck," Iron spat. "Feels slick, too. Droplets are milky white, contaminated with something… and I can just detect what seems to be a whiff of urine, through the damned mask. We gonna die, sir?"

"Composition from the rapid sample kit said it's just some kind of detergent, gasoline, a bit of oil… also piss, yeah, piss… yeah… it doesn't make sense, but it isn't toxic, mostly," Steadfast replied, evenly.

"Mostly! Wonderful," Eternal replied, sounding exhausted already - but they marched on, into the fog, as Iron reattached his camera. What followed was an engrossing twenty minutes of them walking in a white out, cable-clipped together so they didn't lose one another in the thickness of it. Three times, they stopped to dab new filters with peppermint and stagger their swapouts.

Whatever the fog was, it was clogging them, fast.

That made it all the more surprising when they emerged into the parking lot of…

A Megaburger franchise.

"Stop it," Haller said, and the video paused. "We have record of a Megaburger there? Lavar?"

"No, we don't. Look in the background, though, and around it… No roads. Nothing. The walls just extend outward, and then…" he trailed off, and gestured for the video to be played, and then he said, "pause. See? Suddenly, kitty corner, the bricks change to cement blocks, like… smoothly, and it becomes a Fast Jimmy's, complete with gas pumps."

"What the Hell?" Haller asked. No one had answers.

"Command, do you read?" Steadfast asked. After a long pause, she said, "no signal at all. Local comms working."

"Pull out? Something's fuckin' wrong. This shit wasn't here when we got here, before the fucking fog moved closer," Eternal muttered. "Did anyone transmit the recording, from when the fog moved?"

"Did, yeah," Iron spat. "What's the word, Steady?"

"Sir, to you, dipshit… and no. We don't pull back. No signs of life, no hostiles… we're going into that damn burger joint. I want material samples, though. Etty, split off with Reso. See where those bricks go all… blurry? Get samples there," she ordered. "Something is wrong, so we're going to find out what the fuck is going on. As soon as you have the samples, get inside."

A chorus of 'yes, sir!' met her, and she and Iron marched on, the footage continuing to follow them.

"Do we have footage from the Eternal or Resolute?" Haller asked, and got a displeasing 'nope, no transmit from them, their feeds cut out the moment they split off,' which made her want to put a hole in something. "Fucking why, precisely?"

"Interference, of some kind. That fog, maybe, something about it makes signal transmission inconsistent? We only got all of Iron's footage because… well…" he trailed off, and Haller blanched, falling silent and watching. Like every other Megaburger in existence, the restaurant that Iron and Steadfast were approaching was a squat sort of building with an overly decorative roof of red metal, atop which was perched an offensively oversized, bizarrely cartoonish cheeseburger, and a huge cup beside it. Both were lit up, casting an array of yellows and reds out into the parking lot. This was all largely washed out on the white lines of the parking spots out front by the bright fluourescent light coming through the windows that dominated every wall on the front and sides of the store, stopping right at the line where the kitchen began.

Despite that no one was visible inside, the doors were unlocked, and they pushed through them, weapons at the ready.

"It uh, appears to be a burger store," Iron said, quietly, turning slowly to film the majority of the restaurant in the sweep. Chairs were pushed out, food was piled up on tables, cups were stacked halfway to the ceiling and puddles of dark, bubbling brown liquid coated portions of the floor. None of this, critically, had been visible from the exterior. "Stead, sir, something… this place is a fucking mess. It was not, in fact, a fucking mess looking in from outside."

"I'd noticed, trust me," she muttered. "It stinks in here, like it was just jam packed and they all took a shit before leaving."

Rapidly, the camera approached one of the tables and was brought closer to the food - what was left of it. Huge bites, larger than any human mouth could make, were taken out of massive burgers, each one the size of a dinner plate. Thick beef patties steamed, red on the inside and ruddy brown on the out, too fatty, the 'ground' beef used to make them more akin to strange, mashed together chunks of flesh, a melange of unmistakably…

Meaty, fleshy colors. Biological, awful.

They were burgers in the loosest sense, the buns bizarre and over-dense and mealy looking but with an incongruous shiny brown exterior that looked like it was applied after the fact just to try and make it look good. In place of lettuce, there was some unidentifiable, vaguely leaf-patterned green gel mess, a few squirts of too dark, too bloody ketchup… mustard that was more white than yellow - or maybe it was mayo…

"Sir, this food is fucked up."

"This whole place is fucked up," Steady muttered, tiredly. "Weapon at the ready."

"Sir," he replied, and the shotgun came into frame. He squared up, following her to the counter. For a few long moments, they just peered into the half-shrouded kitchen through a cutout on the wall behind the register, and then Steady shouted.

"HEY! IS THERE A MANAGER IN THE HOUSE?"

The silence that met her in response was almost deafening. Slowly, Iron turned in a half circle, looking around - and then there came a sound, a terrible sort of sound. It overwhelmed the microphone on both his camera and its twin on his helmet, this awful air-raid siren parody that sounded more and more like hundreds of human screams forming this rising and falling tide of sonic ugliness.

As the video feed glitched and static flooded the image intermittently, they saw the building shifting, bricks and glass crystalizing outward in wobbly, overly organic sheets from the front of the store. Rumbling appeared to shake the building, and Iron was forced to grab a pillar to retain his footing. When he hunched, they got to watch tiles splitting and sliding and growing, a wholly unnatural ceramic mitosis.

When all was said and done, the entire parking lot had been subsumed, and the restaurant was twice as large from kitchen to doors, with new pillars erected haphazardly, still sluggishly sliding across the floor tiles towards presumably their final positions. These structural icebergs clawed trenches in tile that rapidly 'healed' in their wake.

Iron rounded as if reacting to something, staring at the staggered Steadfast clutching onto the counter as the tile rippled in bizarre, shattering ceramic waves drifting out from the counter, which itself was pushing her backwards towards the entrance as the behind-counter area expanded. She howled, screaming in agony, arms wrapped entirely around a cash register at that point. Red and pink and dark blackish pooled around her feet, those waves of ceramic shredding her up to the like they were made for shredding. Flaying flesh away from bone was horrifying enough, but something worse was unfolding itself.

Behind the counter, a widening, grotesque door peeled open, the wood flexing apart into shiny tendonous strings and awful flesh as a rose made of meat bloomed forth from within.

That screaming siren continued, grew louder even, and the video distortion worsened until all that could be seen, in the center of the frame, was a figure resembling a human being, if that human being was lit harshly and unevenly from the front, and cast a shadow consisting entirely of flesh, of meat and blood and bubbly yellow fat. The mass the 'person' was stuck to the front of slopped against the wall behind the creature, with the flesh seeping through the access window to the kitchen.

Sounds of hissing and popping made it through as the scream-siren trailed off into silence told them that this creature had carpeted over the fryers in back with gore, not giving a singular microfuck about the consequences thereof.

"What can I do for you?" the terrible, blistered avatar asked, a few moments after the screaming siren stopped. This mocking, sick parody of a human torso was still clawing and pulling its way from the meat mass, and as the stunned operators watched, clothing 'grew' over it. Disgustingly, it appeared to be made of woven hair, a chaotic hellscape of interwoven white and black that formed a button down shirt and a tie that were all one piece. Thick pads of calloused skin came next that blackened into a kind of belt-like construction, whose buckle was dark, blackened fingernail approximating shiny plastic polymer.

This same black fingernail formed an approximation of a tie clip, and then a nametag - unreadable.

There was a face, if one could insult the concept of faces so grotesquely, with a lopsided slash of a mouth where the lips were simply just bloody, blistered, skinless facsimiles, dribbling red and this sickly yellow syrup that made its chin all pink and slick.

"F-Fuck, I was just-" Steadfast said, slurring, sounding half drunk with blood loss and pain, but midword… the building went still, and her voice simply ceased. After a long moment, she half turned to Iron. Her lips parted, and thick black and red flooded out - and then the nearly naked bone of her right tibia and fibia, clothed only in tatters and leaking veins below the knee, broke. She staggered, and the top of her head fell away.

For only a moment they were treated to an awful anatomical cross section of her lower brain before blood covered that up completely.

Iron screamed bloody murder, cracking, and in the last frames they could see a thick meaty tendril draped over the counter, forcing what looked a lot like french fries into the sticky black-oozing meat that kept all of Steadfast's thoughts for her, one by one. With each salty new stick of nightmares shoved into what remained of he brain she twitched, or gurgled wetly.

The last man standing legged it, out into the parking lot, and then into…

Another parking lot, leading towards another building.

Towards a Pizza Jam.

"No, no, NO FUCK NO!" he barked, frantic. The poor man rounded, camera directed towards the burger joint, which was rapidly filling up with what looked like squirming, barely human bodies, a pale pink slurry of meat and breading, and enormous waffle cut fries so big they could've been swimming pool rafts. "FUCK! FUCK FUCK!"

While he shouted fuck several more times, he dug in his equipment pack and drew out a gray plastic box, slamming it on the ground and opening it. In a flurry of movement, he tugged something out, pressed something that beeped, and then jerked the camera off of his vest and turned it to stare in the lens.

"Look, I don't know what you FUCKING SHITFUCKS sent us into, but if you don't find a way to EVAC ME, I am going to haunt you until the end of time! EVERYONE IS FUCKED!" he barked, before setting the camera on what was identified in a small block of text in the corner as a transmission relay meant to burst transmit large quantities of audio visual data. He stood up then, and pumped his shotgun. "I'm getting the fuck out of here. If I make it out… I'll get back, I'll call in, I don't know. I gotta move."

When he stepped aside, they could see that strange plant-like structures were growing rapidly from the pavement of the parking lot. In seconds, they formed into beetle coated monstrosities nearly metallic in apperance. Seconds after that, the crawling, bug-covered blobs resolved into passable (At a distance) imitations of cars.

They then promptly rotted, leaving thick black sludge on the ground, from which more bugs, more plants and more cars began to rise.

"Fuck this," Iron panted, and he booked it out of frame.

The video ran for two more four to six minute cycles of 'cars,' and then… abruptly ended in static, with a disquietingly wet crunch.

For a long, long time things were silent in the action room (which was still just the main, large, open area of the . No one spoke. No one so much as breathed, not in any meaningful or audible way.

Finally, Agent Haller said, quietly…

"Well, what the fuck was that shit?"

"Ma'am, that was the last transmission from Iron. It was digitally signed, with little corruption beyond the visual distortion caused by that… management… thing," Muskwe replied, softly. "I did not feel it prudent to warn anyone of the nature of the footage, as… I was… concerned."

"You were fucking concerned? Muskwe, I'm FUCKING CONCERNED! What were YOU concerned about?" she demanded, a cold, hard edge to her voice.

"I was concerned, to be honest, that I had gone gloriously insane, sir," he replied, evenly. "…and I did not have time to ask one of the others to watch it, to confirm or deny my own madness."

"Well, you're not fucking mad unless we all are," she muttered, tiredly. "Everyone saw all of that, yes? Confirm with a yes or no. We saw a team enter a construction hellscape through a wall of oily fog and then get lost or massacred near a fast food restaurant that appeared, to my highly… highly trained eye, to be a fucking LITERAL NIGHTMARE."

A chorus of 'yes' came, then, like a soft rainfall made out of agreement. Really, Haller had hoped for one to thirty answsers of 'no,' because having simply gone batty would have been much easier and much less terrifying. This, this reality, that they had all borne witness to, was truly quite awful.

It bordered on deeply shitty that it hadn't been, in fact, some manner of hallucination - though that alone might have convinced her to go visit a bureau shrink.

"…so what's our theory?" she asked, softly.

"Theory is so often inadequate in the face of actual answers," a soft, faintly accented voice said. This voice was cool, steady, like a small stream flowing in the coldest days of early spring - and it was faintly processed, oddly digital. "Quite a bummer, really, that all of you are now in the fold. I really do find it tiring to orient newcomers, but, perhaps I will assign that task to someone else."

Every firearm in the room was trained on the newcomer before they finished speaking. This… person, of sorts, stood there right next to Haller - or had been next to, but was then in front of, having Haller's gun pressed to their forehead. All of this was well and good, as they had the intruder isolated and contained under threat of-

Death?

Haller stared at the gleaming lenses, lenses staring back at her. The creature, whatever it was, was covered in metal plating, their head all polished glass that might've belonged to a helmet if it weren't for the exposted struts and odd pistons of the neck that emerged from under their chin and around the base of the jaw.

"What the sam fuck are you?" Haller demanded. They chuckled, a strange sound like chimes and rings layering over one another. It was a musical sound, understandable only as a laugh because this creature's head bobbled a bit with it in unmistakable mirth.

"That is a big question with a complicated answer, Agent Haller - but I am, to keep it brief, a robot of a kind - but not a robot, really. Think of me as a mistake made right, but in the weirdest way possible," they replied, a smirk touching their smooth but undeniably digital voice. "I am Doctor Alex Sing, or… that is the name I use now, to conceptually distance myself from who I used to be - security reasons, you see. I've come to tell you all what you just saw."

"And what, the fuck, is that?" Haller asked, losing her patience rapidly - and she didn't have much of it to begin with.

"A 'Spontaneous Edifice Emergence and Reification' event. We call them SEER events, for convenience," Dr. Sing replied, quite pleasantly, waving their hand vaguely at the screen. "We know precious little about them… but we are aware that this is a new, far worse form than we have yet seen. You will ask for credentials. Here, look at this."

Haller looked, the machine person having produced from seemingly nowhere a badge holder. The badge ensconced in said holder insisted that the good doctor was part of an organization called DUSK - the Department of Unnatural / Supernatural Knowledge. In place of a typical shield and eagle so popular in governmental insignias, this bore a strange kind of… seal, or sigil.

"I've seen this before," Haller said, dizzily. The sigil was a pentagram, but its outer circle appeared to be a serpent, devouring its own tail - and in the central pentagon, there was a familiar sign. Brimstone, sulfur, the Leviathan Cross, in all its distorted, time-twisted glory. "I've… I've seen this…"

"A brimstone symbol? Yes, the satanists are rather fond of it, but we were using it first, before even the founding of this nation and our adoption of the DUSK name," Sing replied, blandly, as if this was all very boring to her mechanical ass self. Haller tried not to stare at her hand, a thing plated and padded to function like a human hand, but with open gaps showing moving metal beneath, rods and pistons and tiny little gears. For a moment, there was silence, and then Sing lowered the badge and leaned in, her camera lenses whirring as apertures tightened. "But you don't mean… brimstone. You've seen the DUSK insignia before? Fascinating, and of course, perfectly understandable."

"How the fuck is it understandable? My head hurts," Haller said, her last as she stumbled back and sat down. Muskwe rushed up, and handed her a handkerchief.

"Your nose, ma'am," he intoned, and she pressed her fingers to it, finding they came away bloody.

"Am I going to die?" she asked, a bizarre dread settling in her gut.

"No! My goodness, now, silly, no. You've clearly been geist hexed, some time in the past. You'll be getting memories taken from you back, which is so exciting, isn't it?" Sing replied, brightly. Silence so profound it weighed down on the room like a flow of molten lead followed this, and the doctor tilted her robotic head. "…or perhaps… not, to normal… people. Well, I will enjoy it, anyway, for your sake."

"Goodie for you. Someone fucking shoot her," Haller muttered. No one moved, so she stood herself, bleeding profusely into Muskwe's hankie, and drew her sidearm. Sing did not so much as flinch at the weapon being pointed at her - instead, she leaned in, peering at it.

"Custom work? Very nice, Agent. That's a real stomper of a pistol, and not remotely enough to do me harm," she said, pressing her 'forehead' to it. "I understand. I've violated protocol, entered a black site unannounced, and freaked you right on out. Go ahead. Blow a hole in me, if it'll help. The faster we get you FBI nerds acclimated, the better."

Haller, in a moment of raw rage, confusion and vague nausea, pulled the trigger. Dr. Sing's head snapped back with a loud CLANK, and then… with several heavy ratcheting noises, it returned to its previous position.

"Very nice," Sing said, one of her 'eyes' shattered, a curl of smoke drifting out of it. "High powered, effective, and you're strong enough to muscle down the recoil. Gorgeous weapon, truly."

"F-Fucking what?" Haller demanded. "You're fine?"

"Robot, nerd. Kind of," Sing replied, evenly, as if disappointed. With that, she clapped her odd mechanical hands together and turned to face the room at large. "Congratulations, everyone. You've been formally recruited into DUSK. Your lives as they were are officially over, bummer, but the pay is fantastic, our insurance is better than you'd even believe, and… you get to know all the things you haven't been told about. Vampires, psychics, magicians, nightmares and pretty little machines like me. Ghosts, demons, people who can alter their bodies, secret dimensions and dark dreams that don't die. Your families will be justly compensated after your mock funerals."

"Fucking WHAT!?" Agent Crenshaw demanded, stepping out of the crowd and stalking up to her. "Fuck you! I have a DAUGHTER! She was just BORN!"

"Then unrecruit yourself, dipstick," Sing told him, dismissively. "Divide yourselves into two groups! People who want to give up everything you have, go over there! People who want to keep your lives and forget this moment… over there!"

"F… Forget?" Crenshaw asked, his pale, watery blue eyes wide with a mixture of confusion and panic. "How?"

"Geist hexing will eradicate the memories, sever the pathways to them in an irrecoverable way, effectively removing it all from your mind. A cover story will be generated, and provided to you upon your waking," she explained, patiently, as if speaking to an infant. The doctor raised her arm, and pointed behind her, the limb at an unnatural angle so that an index finger could be directed right at Haller. "You, of course, have no connections, so you have nothing to lose, Agent Haller. I'd like you on this case."

"You can't just MARCH in here, you fucking ROBOT FREAK, and TAKE CONTROL of a literal FBI BLACK SITE. What I am GOING to do is detain your ridiculous metal ass and then call someone higher up the chain to tell me what the HELL is going on!" Haller all but shouted, thoroughly fed up with the utter helplessness she felt as that robot's head slowly tilted backwards like it had when shot, but slower, until it hung down her back and the camera lenses whirred, apertures tightening as they took her in.

"Agent, I am your superior, now," she said, simply, raising a hand. She snapped her fingers, and then… brought her head 'upright,' again, turning around. Haller ignored this, instead staring at her people, all of her people. They were frozen, creatures carved from dyed ice, flickering crystal effigies of themselves. They looked tesselated, rock candy, like models from some kind of videogame showing their triangles as each vertex undulated faintly outward and inward about its origin. "I really need you to stop freaking out, Haller. You're special, I can feel it, and I need your help with this. This is a problem, Haller, one that will kill people - a lot of people, if left unchecked."

"T-The… meat creatures? The manager, the… fast food place? That'll kill people" she asked, softly.

"There's worse about this than all that. Figments that fully instantiate are difficult to kill, for starters, and it will continue to spread… BUT, you have the ability to convince these people that what they do in my service will save the world. I can't convince them of that," Sing told her, quietly. "Get it together. You saw what you saw. That SEER event ATE your people. Working together, we can potentially reverse it, before it eats others."

"Doctor Sing, if you can just make us forget, why do you need to do this? Recruit us? Recruit me?" she asked, after a long pause in which she approached the frozen-mid-stride Agent Crenshaw. When she touched him, she touched what felt like softly undulating planes of glass, a few millimeters from his skin - but this glass was warm like flesh.

"Because you are necessary. When I have feelings, strong ones, I've learned to listen to them. If we are going to stop this, I… need YOU, Anna," the doctor said. Haller looked to the robot, and didn't bother to ask how Sing knew her first name - no one knew it, that was part of her position. She was an enigma, as fake as fake could be, because it kept her insulated from the threats they faced.

"What did you do to my men?" she asked. Sing approached, and drew from the pocket of her suit jacket a handkerchief. When she dabbed at Haller's cheeks, it came back damp, and the Agent didn't even know why she was crying.

"Nothing. There are six men in stupid robes outside, all of whom are affecting what DUSK calls a 'working,' using what we call a 'castgram.' Your men are unaffected, but in this place, time is having a bit of a problem moving forward, except for us. It's not something done… to them, but to the space they occupy, in a sense," she replied, quite forthrightly. Haller was deeply unsure how to deal with this information, but she was forced to accept it. Muskwe was in the middle of spilling a coffee, and it looked like a cascade of crystal that had made it only halfway to the floor. Touching the undulating crystalline surface just above that coffee, she hissed between her teeth and drew her hand back.

It had been scalding hot.

"Thermal energy makes it out," she said, softly. "They're going to freeze to death."

"Perhaps that's why I need you - you've only just seen what civilians call 'magic' for the first time, and you're already working out the flaws. It's true. In about six hours, they would reach a cold point so deep that unfreezing them would, ironically, flash freeze them - their arrested bodily functions no longer warming their insides and all," Sing told her. "So… return to your previous position. I will signal to the men outside to drop the working. Get your shit together, and ride the lightning into an exciting new career in saving the world."

"You're fucking insane," Haller said, shakily. "You know that, right?"

"I'm afraid sanity and insanity are far more complicated than you have been led to believe, Agent. Want to find out how?"

Haller stared at this machine, this woman, this doctor, this interloper and mystery and strangeness of a person. Her eyes, green and stippled with odd flecks of brown, were wide with a kind of feverish anxiety mixed with uncommon mania.

"Yes, I do. I do, god and fucking Jesus Himself Christ damn me."

"Your Christ has been dead a long time, and his so called father with him," Sing murmured, stepping close to touch the cross that Haller wore around her neck. "But, perhaps he was never your god. This was never your cross to bear."

"How could you possibly know that?" Haller rasped.

"I know what I have to know - and it's tarnished, and worn, and has not been well cared for," the doctor told her, in a soft, slightly processed whisper. "It is not something you love… it's someone you remember."

"I hate this," Haller said, in reply.

"You get used to it," Sing insisted, earnestly.

"Do you?"

"Not really. Are you with me?"

Haller stepped back, finding her feet had left softly glowing blue prints on the floor, showing her where to stand. The mechanical doctor sing reached up, and unscrewed what appeared to be the housing of the camera that Haller had shot out. As soon as it was removed, it started sparking and fizzling, molten metal running off of it. Sing threw it carelessly over her shoulder, and a metal plate slid into place beneath the hole, sealing it.

"I am, if that wasn't clear," the Agent murmured.

"Oh, yes, I had figured."

And the robot snapped her fingers, and time lurched back into motion with a sickening blurring of all lights and figures, and a heavy smattering of air shuddering around them like patches of broken, floating glass.

[mysteriousvoidbeing]

RANT AHEAD

I've been seeing a lot more fakeclaiming happening recently, including to people I know personally and care for deeply, and it's been pissing me off. So here's a rant that probably won't be read by the people who actually need to see it.

TW/CW for discussions on fakeclaiming. (If it's not obvious, I am very against it.)

I hold a lot of hatred towards fakeclaimers, and especially with that fakedisordercringe subreddit. So much so that I don't even know where to begin!

For starters, I guess, I see a lot of similarities between fakeclaiming and armchair diagnosis, mainly in the sense that you, as a person on the internet with no connections to the other person and no idea how they function in their day to day life, have no credentials to claim anything about said person. In the same way that you can't diagnose a random person on the internet with a disability from the few snippets of them you see, you cannot fakeclaim someone when you obviously do not have all the facts of their life. People choose how they express themselves on the internet, and you cannot diagnose a persona.

Second, MOST of the posts I have seen on r/fakedisordercringe or any other of those stupid subreddits or youtube posts are people that are actually diagnosed with the disorder they are being fakeclaimed for, which makes it so much more obvious that these people have no fucking clue what they're talking about! And the fact that so many people feel that it's necessary to divulge their own private medical history just so they have a CHANCE at getting people to stop harassing them is not only asanine, it's a downright violation! If you are so hellbent on calling people out for faking disorders that you end up hurting and alienating people who ACTUALLY have the disorder, rethink your fucking priorities.

Third, these disorders are not a fucking monolith, and you don't get to fakeclaim people because their disorder doesn't present like yours, or like the majorities, or even because some of their symptoms don't perfectly match up with the diagnostic criteria! Especially for disorders like autism, which is not only wildly understudied, but the studies we do currently have are still at least partially based in n*zi experimentation and propaganda!

Fourth, and this ties a bit into that last point, even if someone is faking, what does it actually matter to you? You claim that they're doing it to steal resources? What resources are they stealing? If it's medication, then you have to have a formal diagnosis to get medication in the first place, and I promise you that no one whose faking it wants to go through that often humiliating process just for some meds. Is it resources on coping skills? Those aren't a limited resource, and if the coping skills are working for said person, isn't that a good thing?

Is it accommodations in general? Like assistive devices, or 504 plans, or wheelchairs, or whatever the fuck else? Well hot take, those resources should be accessible to EVERYONE. Because if anyone is excluded from using it, then ultimately you will be excluding those who do actually need it anyway. On top of that, assistive devices are EXPENSIVE, how many people are actually gonna fake a disorder to the extent of buying expensive things they don't actually need?

If your worried about the concept that people faking disorders are giving those with disabilities a bad name, then I hate to break it to you friend, but the world already hates disabled people anyways. You fail to realize that people with disabilities are ALREADY treated like shit! You are actively perpetuating that with this fakeclaiming bullshit. It's like those people who "accept" trans people, but not nonbinary people or those who use neopronouns because it's "going too far" and "they won't give us rights if we're too strange." I promise you, "they" don't want to give you rights anyways!

Finally, if your worried about people claiming for the sake of getting attention, I have two things to say. One, it is better to give the attention, love, and care to someone who doesn't need it, then to deny that attention love and care from someone who does. One isn't harmful while the other is actively detrimental to someone's health. Second, if a person is faking a disorder to get attention, they probably do need it! Contrary to some people's belief, humans need attention! We are a species of community, and we quite literally need attention to survive! If anyone is doing anything to get attention, it is probably a cry for help!

Ultimately my whole problem with the whole fakeclaiming bullshit is that no matter what angle you are approaching it from, you are hurting someone. And anyways, I am a staunch believer in the fact that the world should be built to accommodate everyone as best as possible, regardless of if they are disabled or not. You shouldn't have to be disabled to access any sort of assistive device. If you feel like you need it, you should be able to use it, without shame and without having to be behind a massive pay wall and a bunch of restrictions.

Rant over, please do let me know if I missed anything, I am a very fallible human being.

[incorrect-toriko-quotes]

You people will really just give me any ideas for Toriko memes/quotes, huh?

Hi Chef! I've loved stopping in on this blog, it's really reignited my love for the series, and I've left a few asks here previously, mostly to do with the discussion on Coco's past. Well, I was really inspired by a lot of what you said, and I've written a fic, that I hope you enjoy. It's called "Immune but not invulnerable" on Archive of Our Own in the Toriko fandom tag. Hope you like it, and I'd love to hear your thoughts! Fair warning, some parts are a bit dark. Warnings are given though :)

Hey Anon! I just finished reading it, and I just want to pop in and say that I'm honoured to have inspired you with my analyses!

Personally, I enjoyed it -- it was an interesting investigation into Coco's character and past. (Then again, I'm very clearly biased on this subject, and I confess that wholeheartedly)

(If you're thinking about checking it out though, I have to concur with Anon's warnings. Not super graphic, per se. But definitely dark with some medical horror and a lot of dark themes, mostly unspoken, but some verge on the edge of some really sinister things. Anon has the warnings/tags done pretty well, but read at your own risk.)

[atundratoadstool]

Hi, if you happen to be taking asks right now, do you have any thoughts on Jack Seward and his place in the story? A lot of people doing Dracula Daily seem to find him creepy and off-putting and expect him to become a villain. Was he maybe intended as a sort of red herring? Especially his odd arc, which flirts with him becoming a full-on mad scientist? Are we intended to be waiting for him to fall into that behavior or was Stoker doing something else with Seward?

[Spoilers: Extended discussion of Jack Seward, his patient, and later portions of the book under the cut; also CW for mention of medical abuse]

I have many many many thoughts about Jack Seward, his arc, and his multitude of personal and professional failures. He was the topic of my Master's Thesis, and I feel that if I keep up with Dracula Daily through September I will be revisiting a lot of old posts about him and writing a lot of new ones.

I do think Seward's poor medical ethics and his temptation toward even worse medical ethics are incredibly significant to what I see as being as the major themes of the novel, and I think the reader should be apprehensive about his potential for villainy. The basic argument of my own work as regards him is that both he and Renfield are both committed to fundamentally materialist views of reality at the opening of the novel and are dehumanizing one another within those paradigms. Both of them treat the other, at some point, as experimental animals, with Seward explicitly discussing Renfield in terms of vivisectionist research and Renfield attempting to include Seward in his vitalist project by literally consuming him. I hold that Dracula asserts the reality of spiritual existence by allowing each man to have a transformative moment as regards the human soul. Jack, in being confronted by a Lucy who is not Lucy, can see a physical body in which a soul is absent--which affirms the soul’s existence as something beyond the physical contours of the brain. Renfield, in being confronted by Mina’s overabundant empathy, is made to confront the horror of his own vitalist project to the extent that he abandons his attempts to extend his own life in a profound moment of self sacrifice. I also believe that Seward and Lucy (who were a couple in the original outlines of the novel) can be read as a failed version of Jonathan and Mina, with Jack’s skepticism and Lucy’s passivity making them vulnerable in ways that the Harkers are not. I feel that poor Jonathan--for all the flak people give him right now--is a character who adapts to the reality of the supernatural with a grace that Jack cannot.

So that’s the very very brief rundown as to what I think is going on with Seward. I will hopefully be revisiting a lot of this in the future.

[whump-tr0pes]

Honor Bound 4 - 16

This is a series. Start here, continued from here.

This is a sequel to Honor Bound, Honor Bound 2, Honor Bound 3.

AO3

Cw: pain medication, discussion of potential narcotics addiction, blood (imagined), permanent injury, loss of use of a limb, past surgery, past noncon, victim-blaming, self-hatred, death mention

~

Sam followed behind Isaac as he walked down the hall and out the back door of the house. He paused to pull his worn leather boots on, and helped Sam step into their shoes. He pulled in a deep breath and walked towards the lake. The sunrise painted the sky in bright oranges and reds, stretching out above them forever, clearer somehow than when they were south. Isaac drew in another slow breath.

Sam walked quietly by his side. Their breaths weren’t so ragged as they were yesterday, though Isaac knew it would be painful for weeks. He winced at the memory of his own cracked ribs, and at his own dull ache with every breath. They walked through the overgrown grass of the yard, untended. The place must have been empty for a long time when Gray moved in. The quiet swooshing noises their shoes made against it made Isaac feel just a little calmer.

Soon the grass gave way to sand. It shifted under Isaac’s feet. His hands curled into fists as he walked slowly, making sure Sam could keep up. When they stumbled, he stopped and took their shoulders in his hands.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured. “I didn’t think… I didn’t think about it, that… Do you want to just sit? Would that be alright?”

Sam trembled in Isaac’s grasp. “Um…” They looked past Isaac and bit their lip. “If we could, could make it to that log there and sat down, that would be…” They drew in a quick breath. “That would be, would be good.”

Isaac glanced behind him at the log just at the edge of the water, roots gnarled and twisted towards the sky, the wood bleached by the sun. He nodded. “Sure,” he said weakly. “But please don’t, um, push yourself. I know that—”

“It’s fine,” Sam said breathlessly, and started walking again.

Isaac swallowed hard as he walked just behind Sam, watching how they limped as if their left leg was hurting them, how they shuddered every time they jostled their arm. When they reached the log and Sam lowered themself down, Isaac heaved a sigh of relief with them. He sat beside them and looked out across the lake, almost perfectly flat and reflecting the brilliant sky above them. A bird called in a nearby tree, and another answered it. Isaac breathed in the clean, cool air and felt his shoulders relax slightly.

They were quiet for a long time. Sam breathed stiffly beside him, rocking every now and then, holding their arm carefully against their body. Finally they took in a stilted breath and wet their lips.

“Finn’s been keeping the pain meds,” Sam said softly.

Isaac turned, his eyebrows pulling together. “What?”

“The pain meds.” Sam shifted uncomfortably. “Finn’s holding onto them, giving them to me one at a time. They say it’s so I don’t develop an addiction. Apparently morphine’s really hard to come by and they don’t want me having withdrawals.”

Isaac’s gut felt ice cold. “And do you… think you’re developing an addiction?” He laced his fingers tightly together.

“No,” Sam huffed. “Like I said, I can’t. I don’t get to take more when I want to. But it’s just…” They gritted their teeth and took another breath. “It hurts. And it… makes me mad that I can’t have more.”

Isaac chewed the inside of his cheek. “Pain still the same?” His hands itched to hold Sam, to ruffle their hair, to push back against everything in the world that threatened to hurt them. Somehow, he felt like that wasn’t what they needed right now.

“Yeah.” Sam winced. “Hasn’t gotten, um, better. I don’t know when it will.”

“What does Finn say?”

Sam scoffed weakly. “Finn says it should’ve been getting a little better by now.”

Guilt twisted in Isaac’s stomach. “Oh.” Muzzle flash. Spray of blood. Punch to his chest. Falling to the ground with Sam on top of him, bleeding. Always bleeding.

Sam’s lips trembled and they bit down hard on their lips. Their head tilted back and they looked at the sky, tears brimming in their eyes. “S-something’s wrong,” they whispered.

“Can I touch you?” Isaac murmured. Sam was still for a moment, then nodded. It sent the tears rolling down their cheeks. Isaac drew closer and took their hand, squeezing it in both of his. He tried to keep his hands from shaking.

“I d-don’t…” Sam’s voice went tight with tears. “I don’t know what, but… something’s… n-not working.” They shivered and leaned against Isaac.

“What’s not working?” Isaac said softly, leaning back so he could see their eyes. “What’s not working, Sam?”

Sam shivered and looked down at their right hand where it rested in the sling. “My hand,” they whimpered.

Isaac’s eyes fell shut against the sudden burn of tears. His shoulder was nothing, his right hand was nothing, they were things Isaac could deal with. It was just pain. It was just his pain. But the idea that Sam may be permanently damaged from a mistake Isaac had made…? Dread crept into his heart as his gaze moved over them. They looked up and met his eyes, their own wide and filled with tears.

“Wh-what’s wrong with your hand?” Isaac rasped. His throat worked as he swallowed the searing guilt that tightened there.

“Um…” Sam glanced down at their hand again. “I c-can’t move it.”

Isaac’s stomach lurched like he’d just been punched in the gut. “What?”

Sam whined softly and their face twisted. “I, I don’t know if it’s from, um, the bullet, or…” They shook their head fiercely. “It’s not Finn’s fault. It’s not. But I d-don’t know if, um, it’ll get better, b-but…” They winced. Their thumb and forefinger jerked in a clumsy, uncoordinated movement. The other fingers didn’t move at all. “And I’m, um, numb.”

Isaac swallowed the bile that crept up his throat. He forced down a sob, willing his voice not to shake. “Where?”

“Um…” Sam gulped. “L-last two fingers. And, um, the inside of my wrist. A-and my forearm.” They pressed their lips together and whimpered.

“Oh, god,” Isaac whispered. “Oh fuck…” He was crumbling in on himself, collapsing. Sam won’t recover from this. Finn can’t go in and fix this. They can’t fix nerves. He knew enough about the human body to know that that’s what this was, the bullet had torn through a nerve, and there wasn’t a surgeon in the world who could fix it that would be willing to treat Sam. He slumped forward. His arms wrapped around his chest. “No…”

“I don’t know what to do,” Sam whispered. They whined softly and pressed their left hand to their face.

Isaac’s hands jerked and he was pulling them into his embrace before he heard the gasp of pain and stopped. He angrily swiped the tears away and forced himself to look at Sam, at the tears staining their cheeks, at the way they winced with every breath, at the sling that concealed the truth: the damage caused by the bullet would probably never heal. He ran his hands through his hair and forced out a breath through his teeth.

“Sam, h-have…” He curled his hands into fists. “…have you told Finn?”

“No,” Sam whimpered. “I don’t want them to, to blame themself, I know they will, because they… they’re just like you, Isaac, sometimes…” Sam trembled and moaned softly as it jostled their arm. “They blamed themself the whole time C-Colleen had us. They blamed themself. I saw it every time they, um, touched me. They did their best and it still wasn’t enough and—” They cut themself off with a horrified gasp. “Oh, god. I didn’t mean that. Oh, I… I didn’t mean it wasn’t enough, I meant… nothing they could have done would have… um…” They reached out and grasped Isaac’s arm. “Please don’t tell them I said that. Oh, god, I’m so… sorry…”

“S-stop,” Isaac mumbled, his tongue feeling too big for his mouth. “I swear to god, Sam, stop. Please.”

Sam raised their eyes to Isaac’s. Tears clung to their eyelashes. “S-stop what?”

Isaac rocked forward and pressed his face into his hands. He groaned. “Just… stop apologizing. I know what you meant, and if Finn heard you, they would, too.”

Sam let out a shivery breath. “I just don’t want them to think it’s because of, um, the surgery. I kn-know they, um, they did their best, and no one else could have done it, and… and they saved my life, but they won’t, um, see it that way.”

Isaac blew out a breath through pursed lips. “I know.”

“I just…” Sam experimentally moved their thumb and forefinger again. They winced and gripped their right hand with their left. “Ahh. Um… I just wish it could be numb, um, up here.” They pointed to their shoulder. “Because it feels like a, um, a hot poker going through my arm.”

Isaac clenched his jaw. “And the pain meds don’t help?”

“No,” Sam breathed, their face twisting. “They do. They do. Just… not very much. Not enough to sleep very well.”

“I’m sorry, Sam,” Isaac whispered. He grasped their hand and squeezed.

Sam huffed out a pained laugh. “The cat helps, though.”

Isaac paused and turned to Sam. “The cat?”

“Yeah,” Sam said with a faint smile. “Gray’s cat. Nata. He’s been sleeping with me since we got here. He’s, um, really nice. It’s like he knows when the pain is really bad.”

One corner of Isaac’s mouth pulled up. “Just like Gray.”

“Yeah,” Sam said as they leaned against Isaac. “Just like Gray.”

The sky lightened over them. The clouds faded from their oranges and pinks until only their edges shone a brilliant gold. The lake shimmered in the slow breeze.

Sam took a shallow breath. “What did you need to tell me?” they murmured, looking out over the lake.

Isaac curled in on himself slightly. “Ah. Yeah. Um…” I’m fucking the man who hurt you, tortured you, broke you. I’m fucking the man who hurt me, too, and made me hurt for months after that. I’m fucking the man that nearly got us all killed. But I want him, I love him, so fucking much, and he makes me so fucking happy.

Sam turned their eyes to Isaac, worried and so damned hurt. Their eyebrows pulled together and they searched his face. “What is it, Isaac?”

Isaac shook his head. “Shit.” He let go of Sam’s hand, so they wouldn’t have to touch him after he told them. So they didn’t have to touch him when they found out Isaac was just some twisted, broken thing that folded at the first soft touch he’d felt in ages. When they found out Isaac gave in and liked it when he was tied down and fucked while someone watched his humiliation, just because it came from someone he thought he might have feelings for, when he was trapped in the middle of a nightmare. They didn’t have to touch him when they found out that Isaac was so fucking weak that he’d accept any love that was offered.

No. Gavin deserves more than that. He deserves so much more than that explanation.

Isaac set his shoulders and stared out across the water. He wet his lips and held his breath before he spoke.

“A lot happened between Gavin and I at Colleen’s house,” he said softly.

Sam leaned back and huffed out a breath. “Oh. Yeah. With the… um…”

…with the rapes, done by a man I already wanted, and I would have let him do it even if I wasn’t in chains.

“Y-yeah,” Isaac croaked. “Um… he’s… Sam, you know he’s different. I know you do. And when he was… when we were…” He cleared his throat. “I know the guards did the most to, um, to you. And that he, um, was forced to watch most of the time.”

“Yup.” Sam’s expression was unreadable.

Isaac swallowed uneasily. “But you know he… he never wanted that.”

“Yeah,” Sam murmured. “I know.”

“You know how much he loves us?” Isaac said, his voice weakening.

“I th-think so,” Sam said with a wince. They adjusted their arm slightly in its sling.

“Well I…” Isaac’s throat worked as he swallowed again, his insides tingling with dread and worry. After this, they won’t want to have anything to do with me. After this they’ll, they’ll know, that I’m… that I’m…

The refrain was always the same, no matter what. I’m weak. I’m worthless. I don’t deserve I don’t deserve I don’t deserve… Isaac shook himself and forced the thoughts away.

“I love him, too,” Isaac whispered. He shivered in the light tendrils of the breeze as it moved over his skin. He waited for Sam to respond. They blinked and stared across the water. Slowly, they drew a ragged breath in through their nose.

After a long moment, they opened their mouth. “Why him?” they murmured.

Isaac’s head fell forward. Because I’m weak. Because I’m broken. Because I want to punish myself by keeping my torturer in my life, in my bed, and I’m so fucking selfish that I don’t care if he hurt the others, too…

No. I love Gavin because…

“Because he’s a good man… now.” Isaac shifted uncomfortably. “He’s made so many sacrifices to keep us alive. Because he’s different, and he’s changed, and I trust him. And because he’s good to me.” Isaac’s voice faltered. “He’s so… Sam, he’s so damned good to me. He wants me to be safe. He wants me to feel, to feel good. He’d die for this family, Sam.” Isaac’s eyes burned with tears. “He almost died for this family. He’s one of us now. And I don’t know why. I don’t know how it happened. But I… l-love him. And I want to be with him.”

Finally, Sam brought their gaze back to Isaac’s. Old hurt burned dully in their eyes. Isaac quailed when he saw it.

“Does he make you happy?” Sam said.

“Yes.” The word rushed out of him.

Sam searched Isaac’s face with their gaze. After another moment, they reached out and clasped Isaac’s hand again. “Okay,” they murmured.

Isaac dared to draw in a slow breath. “Okay?”

Sam chewed their lip. “Does he feel the same way?”

Isaac nodded. “Yeah, Sam,” he breathed. “Yeah. He does.”

“Hm.” Sam’s eyes fell closed and they shuddered weakly. “I thought so.”

Isaac balked and his mouth gaped open. “You… you thought so?”

Sam nodded. “Mm-hm.” They hissed and held their left arm tight to their chest as they breathed. “I thought he might be… um…” They gave a one-shouldered shrug. “I don’t think he had any idea what love felt like before he left his mom. So I wasn’t sure, but… it looked like he was starting to feel that way for you.”

Isaac’s mouth was dry. “When?”

Sam gaze a wry smile. “While we were south. It just… looked like he had feelings for you.”

Isaac forced his shoulders to relax. “Well… he did.”

“Hm.”

Isaac let out a breath. The breeze ruffled Sam’s hair and tickled on the half-healed cuts on Isaac’s arms. He ran his hands through his hair and looked at Sam again. “You ready for breakfast?”

Sam shifted and smiled. “Yeah,” they said softly. “I’m, um… I’m hungry today. I kinda haven’t been, but today…” Another shrug.

“That’s good,” Isaac said warmly as he rose and held out a hand to Sam. “That’s a good sign.”

“I know you couldn’t eat for a while, after,” Sam said, and winced.

Isaac’s head dropped forward. “Yeah,” he rasped. It was such a well-trodden path, such a familiar burst of my fault my fault my fault I deserve… He shook his head to clear it. Will I ever be able to live without that? Who am I without my shame?

He gently rubbed the back of Sam’s neck, longing to pull them into his arms, sling an arm over their shoulders, just touch them, remind himself that they existed, that they were safe, that they were alive. He’d so very nearly lost them. They’d so very nearly died in his arms and—

STOP. He hated the refrain, the constant pulse of shame in his head that he’d never even realized was there. He hated the never-ending ache in his chest that reminded him of what he was, what he’d done. He hated the dread that came with every time he wondered, will I ever be enough?

Will I ever heal?

He squeezed his eyes shut and shook his head again. He turned towards the house and began the short walk back.

Continued here

@untilthepainstarts, @womping-grounds, @free-2bmee, @quirkykayleetam, @walkingchemicalfire, @inpainandsuffering, @redwingedwhump, @burtlederp, @castielamigos-whump-side-blog, @whatwhumpcomments, @cursedscribbles, @whumpywhumper, @stxck-fxck, @omega-em-z-02, @whumps-the-word, @justwhumpitwhumpitgood, @justplainwhump, @moose-teeth, @slaintetowhump, @finder-of-rings, @inky-whump, @thatsthewhump, @orchidscript, @insanitywishes, @this-mightaswell-happen, @newandfiguringitout, @whumpkitty, @pretty-face-breaker, @cinnamonflavoredhugs, @inaridriscoll, @im-just-here-for-the-whump

[myhusbandsasemni]

Burns and Rescue

The Adventurers

CW: Burns, mentions of torture and experimentation

WC: 2474

.............................

“I need your help, master,” Rin said. He stood in the dusty beams of light that filtered into Old Man Ralph’s house. The house always seemed to be bathed in a sunset glow, the light dancing across the piles of books and playing on the bottles in the cupboards and on the shelves. 

Ralph looked up and raised a bushy eyebrow. “What for? You Adventurers don’t need my help.”

“Well, I need your help this time,” Rin said desperately. “You have to understand, there’s a man I need to go rescue, but he’s severely burned. The shock of the rescue might kill him and I need another medic who can deal with deep tissue burns.”

Ralph froze and turned fully to Rin, his wolf ears tilted in high alert. “Rin,” the old man said, “I can just go dancing off into a fight. I’m old and frail and-”

“You’re not frail!” Rin protested seriously. “I’ve seen you work on a surgery for 9 hours straight. That is not a feat that a frail man could manage. Please. I know you hate adventures and motion and danger, but this is something we can’t do alone. He was sick and dying and I couldn’t do anything! I left him behind and I NEED to rescue him and I can’t do that without……. Oh. You’re coming?”

Ralph looked up from the bag he was packing and rolled his eyes. “Of course I’m coming, if only for the bragging rights. Stop your blathering and help me pack.”

Rin grinned and hurried to do as the old surgeon asked. 

…………………..

The dark building brought up unpleasant, half formed memories in Rin’s mind. It was a very unassuming block of concrete. There was no decoration to it at all. It really was just a hollowed out block of cement and metal. Rin grimaced, leaning into his best friend, Laurance, for a bit of comfort. He could almost hear Simon’s screams in his mind. 

He was back in the blank hallways, only decorated with his and Simon’s gasps of pain and fluids from their weeping wounds.

“We’re almost out,” Rin had gasped, holding his arm where a guard had dislocated his shoulder. “Come on, Simon. We’re almost out!”

Simon had panted behind him, his arms awkwardly out to his sides to avoid chafing the burns. “I’m coming,” he’d called, his voice pained. 

Rin barreled through a door, banging his shoulder on the way through. He screamed as his shoulder popped back into place, as intended. He shook stars out of his eyes as his healing processes bound his ligaments tightly back in place. 

He paused so he could run alongside Simon, one hand on his lower back to help him run. The sounds of the guards were coming up behind them. They didn’t have much time. Rin leapt up on a counter and smashed open a window. The first window he’d seen since he’d been brought here that led outside. The haze of light on the horizon where the sun would be rising gave Rin such a rush of relief and joy he nearly passed out. He climbed through, breaking the glass so Simon wouldn’t receive the cuts that were already healing across Rin’s own body. The adrenaline the werewolf felt was the only thing that was keeping him going. 

He turned to reach and help Simon, but the guards were already pouring into the room. Simon was backed up against the counter, shaking. He twisted his head, burned arms up in the air. “Rin!! GO!”

“Simon, I-”

“GET OUT OF HERE!”

Rin froze for only a moment. A guard shot a taser at him through the window while others took Simon roughly by the arms. Rin fell back, dodging the prongs and sickened by Simon’s screams of pain as his burned skin shed off underneath the rough treatment. 

Rin stood up and ran off through the trees, sticks stabbing at his bare feet, branches whipping across his hospital gown, and tears streaming down his face. 

He’d been found in a town about an hour away on foot, curled up in a ball outside of a vet clinic. He couldn’t remember much after his escape. His brain had shut down.

It was now two weeks later, and Rin had found his way back. Laurance glanced at his friend with a concerned look as Rin came back to the present. Rin shook his head, fingering the crossbow charm that hung around his neck. He could feel Kiera’s comforting hand on his lower back as she and Anisha discussed if they wanted to go in sneaky, or swords blazing. 

“Kay,” Laurance said when the discussion stopped. “Kiera and Souka will cause a distraction, Anisha will go and find the control center and solve what this place is exactly and if there are more of them, and Rin and I will go and find Simon. Is that what the plan is?”

“Sounds good to me,” Kiera said with a nod, icing her knuckles in preparation for the fight.

Rin nodded. 

“And what about me?” Ralph asked, sounding very miffed that they had forgotten him.

“You’ll be coming with Laurance and I to help Simon,” Rin said seriously, clicking back into his place on the team. “Who knows what they’ve done to him since I escaped.”

“Let’s go then,” Anisha said. She became invisible and was off like a shot.

Laurance and Rin waited until Kiera and Souka had entered before they snuck around with Ralph to where the window was that Rin had escaped through. Rin almost swore when he saw the opening had been filled with concrete.

“We’ll find another way in,” Laurance said reassuringly. “Maybe Anisha found a sneaky way and we can follow her.”

“Just hurry up,” Ralph said, med pack strapped to his back and cane in one hand ready for some butt kicking. “I’m ready to get my bragging rights with healing this Simon of yours.”

‘Nisha,’ Laurance said in the mind link. ‘How did you get through?’

‘Window on the second floor,’ came the cheerful reply from the Scaleon inside. 

Laurance located the window. Rin went first, scaling the wall. Laurance paused to let Ralph complain and get on his back before jumping up and getting through with Rin’s help. Once inside, they found themselves in a lab. The sounds of a fight had started up somewhere on the east side of the building that didn’t quite mask the sounds of a keyboard in the next room. Anisha was busy doing her job.

“This way,” Rin muttered, getting out into the halls. “We were kept in the basement.”

The other two followed, Laurance sticking close to Ralph as he was the assigned bodyguard at the moment. Ralph just seemed vaguely annoyed by the time it was taking to get down to the injured man.

Once on the first floor, Rin had no trouble remembering where the basement stairs were. He popped the locked door open after only a moment and descended into the horrid darkness. 

‘I’m sure there will be scientists we have to watch for down here,’ Rin mindspoke, eyes darting across the dark rooms.

Laurance sent an affirmation to Rin and drew his sword. With scientists, he doubted he’d have to use it, but it was a good threat display. 

Rin shuddered as he passed a room he remembered all too well as an experimentation room. He’d spent a good three days in that room being ripped apart and getting healed up again by his own magic.

They came to a room that was definitely full of people. Laurance pushed past the two to peer through. Scientists were conducting experiments with chemicals and whatever else. Laurance backed up. He had not seen Simon, or any other prisoners, in the room. Rin led the way past silently until they reached a corridor of cells. The doors were made of a see through material. Some had scratch marks in their surfaces, almost all were empty.

Rin only glanced at the cell where he was kept, recognizing the marks of each of the scotches he’d made on the walls. It was the only thing he had to entertain himself while he was trapped here. That and talking to-

“Simon,” Rin breathed when he saw the man laying in the corner of the cell. Rin quickly opened the pad, put in the numbers he’d seen the scientists put in hundred of times, numbers he’d memorized in case they’d need it during their escape. 

When the door slid open, Rin dropped to his knees by Simon’s side. The man had shifted upon hearing his name, but his eyes were dull with fever and he shuddered under Rin’s touch. He probably didn’t even recognize the werewolf. 

“Oh, no no no,” Rin crooned, pulling back the hospital robe Simon was wearing. The burns from whatever the scientists were giving him had spread. They coated his arms and hands, but were creeping out onto his torso and up his neck. It was a wonder the man was still alive.

Ralph was by his student in an instant, cutting open the sleeves and sneering at the poor attempt at bandages on the man’s arms. 

“I’ll give him something to bolster him. I can’t do anything else until we get back to the med bay,” Ralph said, pulling out a potion and taking some of it into a syringe. He quickly emptied it in the man’s chest where it would circulate quickly. 

Rin rolled out a shock blanket and they loaded Simon onto it gently. The man was so out of it that he could only twitch when pain lanced across his body. They wrapped the blanket around him and Rin lifted the man carefully. He was so skinny now. He’d been here longer than Rin had. Even before Rin had been brought here. Rin bit his lip, calculating everything. There was a very good chance that Simon would die, even before they made it back to the med bay. 

“It’s okay, my friend,” he murmured. “I’m sorry it took so long to come back. I’m getting you out.”

Laurance was out in the halls first. ‘Should I take care of the scientists?’ he mind asked.

‘I’m thinking we just lock them in their lab,’ Rin replied. ‘We can send people to deal with them later.’ Rin widened his call and mind asked Kiera, ‘Is it safe for us to leave through the front doors?’

‘Should be all good,’ Kiera sent, giving the impression of flicking her tails with a sense of satisfaction. 

Laurance went off to lock the scientist in the lab, which he succeeded in. He jammed the doors so they wouldn’t open, ignored the scientists pleas and caught up with Rin as they reached the front doors.

“Let’s get out of here,” Rin said to Anisha, who was waiting for them outside after finishing her job. Laurance opened a portal as Anisha finished. He put extra care into making the portal steady. A wobbly portal could cause injuries to become worse, and while he hadn’t made a wobbly portal in months, any detriment to Simon’s health could likely kill the man. They portaled into their medical room in the Hoard and Rin, Ralph, and Anisha set to work in healing the man. Laurance put a hand on Souka’s shoulder and smiled. From what he’d glimpsed through the mind link, his boy had done very well in the fight, even taking out a third of the force while Kiera dealt with the rest. All with minimal casualties. 

“Wanna go make some food?” Laurance asked Souka.

Souka nodded, knowing that making food was exactly what Laurance would need to distract himself while they waited for the medics to finish up with Simon. Kiera would have to help this time so she couldn't bug Laurance or play games with them until Simon was stable. Her cooling powers would be needed on his burns.

So, the boys left them to it and went upstairs to make food for the others when they emerged from the hours of healing that were ahead of them.  

……………………

The healing was exhausting. Thankfully, Rin had plenty of material to print new skin for Simon. He looked kind of patchwork when they finished, but he was breathing better and he didn’t look as sick. Rin had eaten afterwards and then gone to pass out while Laurance cleaned the med bay after the surgery and looked after Simon. It was nice to have a friend who only needed three hours of sleep, especially when there were things to be done and you needed sleep. 

Rin grabbed a cup of coffee when he woke and went down to sit by Simon’s bed. He was nervous, but hopeful. Simon had actually done very well during the surgery. Perhaps the scientists put something in him that made him more resilient. Rin mulled that over in his head, sipping at his coffee slowly. 

Simon woke up around the time Rin was thinking about getting a new cup of coffee. Rin leaned forward into Simon’s line of sight as the man took a deep breath. He whimpered a little and the werewolf quickly soothed him.

“Simon, I don’t know if you recognize me without those robes on,” Rin smiled a little to himself over the hours they’d spent complaining about the clothing. “But it’s me. Rin.”

Simon peered at him from one eye. “R...Rin? You…. no.'' Simon groaned. “They caught you again.”

“No, no, no, my friend,” Rin said, ears twitching as he put his hand on the man’s forehead. “Simon, I got away. And I came back. I’m just sorry that it took me so long to do so. But you’re safe. We’re at my house, now.”

Simon stared at Rin and a relieved smile grew on his face. He relaxed into the blankets with a happy chuckle. “I knew you’d come back,” he said warmly.

Rin smiled. “Of course. I promised I’d take you out to watch some movies. Not to mention have a drinking competition. Once you’re healed, of course.”

“Of course.” Simon was silent for a moment. “I imagined being free so many times while I was in there. I imagined how I would feel, what I would do……... Now that I’m out, I’m most excited to be able to sleep….. without having to worry about waking up to more experiments.”

“I can imagine,” Rin said, agreement in his tone. “Hey, are you in any pain at all?”

“No,” Simon said softly. “I just want sleep…. And Rin. Thank you.”

“No problem man.”

“When you rescued me, I thought you were a god coming to take me to the next life.”

Rin chuckled. “Not a god.”

“Not a god,” Simon agreed. “But….. unarguably a hero.”

Rin smiled as Simon drifted off to sleep. 

The Adventurers tag list: @dowings @writeblrfantasy @artrayasnow93 @doubi-ixi @extraisthmus @thethistlegirlwrites @thepotatowriter

[just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi]

Whump Concept: Legal Lab Experiments

CW: discussion of Human experimenting, implied lab whump

Human experimentation is perfectly legal as long as the regulations are followed. All rights are signed away before birth. In some special cases, there can be prenatal non-invasive research. 

There are two general types; Class 1 and Class 2. 

Class 1

Class 1 is the largest, most widely known type of Subject. 

Class 1 is mainly for medicinal purposes. Want to know if this medication causes any side effects? Want to see if that eyeliner is really hypo-allergenic? Need a subject for that med-school exam? Class 1. 

Health and Safety regulations for Class 1: 

Diet and nutrition is based on a government issued formula taking in age, weight, height, physical activity, and medical uses. 

Housing/storage must be at a consistent temperature; between 20–23 °C (68–75 °F). 

All Class 1 Subjects are required daily activity, one (1) stimulation/entertainment/comfort object [typically a type of rubber ball], as well as documented socialization. 

There are required quarterly inspections in Class 1 labs. 

Class 1 Subjects are not permitted education. (It would be inhumane for them. The less they know, the better.)

Class 2

There are fewer Class 2 subjects, due to their specialized nature. 

Class 2 focuses on developmental research, i.e language development, find motor skill development, social and peer group dynamics in controlled settings.

Need more information for your thesis on cognitive development? Get in contact with XYZ Lab. They might have some time you can book with their Class 2 Subject. 

Different labs have different Class 2 Subject specialties. 

Health and Safety regulations for Class 2: 

Same for Class 1, with a few exceptions. 

Class 2 Subjects are required to have a minimum of three (3) stimulation/entertainment/comfort objects. 

A book [minimum of 10 chapters] qualifies as one (1) object, but can quality for two (2) if it is part of a collection that rotates every two weeks. It is is up to the discretion of the lab manager if the Subject has a choice of content. 

Class 2 Subjects are required comfortable housing, minimum of one (1) of each; blanket, mat/mattress, pillow.

There are monthly inspections in Class 2 labs, including an interview. 

Class 2 Education:

All Class 2 subjects are required to able to read and write for testing purposes. 

Requests for higher education have to be made to the local governing body through the proper channels. 

Violation of these procedures will incur a fine, stricter regulations on your facility, and possibly even the removal of the subject. 

A Class 2 Subject sits with their back against the wall, curled up on the mat with their thin blanket.They look at the only other things in the room with them; a pad of paper with a pencil, and a worn down elementary picture book. In a few days, they would come and exchange the untouched book with the other on that Whumpee had already read a hundred times. They close their eyes, dry from staring at screens, and try to ignore the paste in their hair from the EEG. “At least I’m not class 1, At least I’m not class 1, At least I’m not class 1...” they try to remind themselves.

[heavyweightheart]

From a wonderful piece called “Coming out Blackened and Whole”: Fragmentation and Reintegration in Audre Lorde’s Zami and The Cancer Journals, published in 1994 by black poet/scholar Elizabeth Alexander. 

BIG CW for discussion of racist medical experimentation a little more than halfway down.

“Lorde's photograph makes up the full front cover of the first edition of The Cancer Journals. Here she makes herself, her body, empirical, the best evidence of her arguments and self-definitions. She illustrates that she is all she proclaims herself to be--fat and black and beautiful--but that cover is also a strange testament to her very physical existence: she is a survivor and alive. She shows us the inside of her body to gain a kind of documentary, empirical self-referencing authority as an expert on her own life and as the maker of a life on paper. For neither that life, her own, nor that of any black woman, has ever existed in representation as its possessor experienced it. Consider the case of the Hottentot Venus, a southern African woman named Saartje Baartman (tribal name unknown) brought to Europe in the early nineteenth century under the impression that she was to earn money performing that she could take back to her family. Instead, she was exhibited nude in circuses and private balls in London and Paris; eager Europeans paid to see her steatopygia. A french scientist, Georges Cuvier, made a name for himself by performing experiments of an unspecified nature upon her body and by dissecting her buttocks and genitalia after her death at the age of 25. Baartman came to signify sexual and racial difference represented in extremia, as well as the attitude that black women's bodies were easily commodified and utterly dispensable. Baartman's case represents as well another side of the exploitation of black women: the burning desire to see further and further inside, to have access to every crack and crevice of a black woman's body and to that which she has tried to keep sacred. This underlines the power of Lorde showing us her insides, that sanctified, veiled territory that looks so different because she is showing it herself.”

[nosleepuntilvacation]

Frisk and Mettaton’s continuing adventures through the True Lab, featuring beds, showers, videotapes, and special hells (and not just for the amalgamate featured in this chapter).

CW: discussion of canonical medical experimentation; one character ends up on the verge of an emotional breakdown later in the chapter

[ameliamike90]

MID LEVEL FULL STACK DEVELOPER - TRAINING TO BE A SENIOR DEV PROVIDED job at Comfort Works Malaysia

Comfort Works aims to breathe new life into living rooms across the globe, and we do this by creating beautiful handmade slipcovers for your old, tired sofas. Every aspect of our operations is done in-house, from web development to online marketing and content creation. To product design and product manufacturing. Nothing is outsourced. We design with the belief that we can live simple and beautiful by trying to revive the hidden potential of our old furniture and doing our part for the planet. Before we knew it, Comfort Works expanded into a huge range of products specializing in IKEA sofa covers, custom furniture slipcovers and other complementary accessories.

Why Join Us?

Comfort Works’ team members make an impact from day one. They have an opportunity to enjoy early responsibilities and be involved in making impactful decisions. Our team is encouraged to use their initiative to shape their roles and keep themselves on track to develop individual expertise. We love DIY Projects, hacking, shopping, discussing great design, collecting quirky items, up-cycling, decorating and re-decorating. Upon being on board you will enjoy an autonomous workflow, development opportunities, training, travel and an environment of like-minded people who don’t settle for anything less than doing what they love!

Pursuing growth and learning is one of our core values so expect to brainstorm cutting-edge solutions for everyday problems on a daily basis. Imagine having the freedom to propose and execute even your most out-of-the-box ideas.

At Comfort Works, we foster a culture of experimentation, teamwork, equality, humble confidence, and infusing hard work and fun. You’ll get hands-on experience and support in a team-oriented environment and have some fun along the way. If you are tired of boring work environments, singular task jobs, and typical “office rules”, screw that and join a collaborative environment that’s all about innovation.

Cliff Notes

A work hard play hard group with solid management and resources.

Opportunity to learn about e-commerce, online marketing, reputation management, international online customer service, product design and web development.

Great international workmates from Australia, Poland, China, Indonesia, Singapore, Morocco.

Cool office space with a fully stocked fridge.

We make pretty things comfort-works.com

Have you hit the 2-3 year mark? Are you ready for the next phase of growth before becoming a Senior Developer? 

Our Mission

Comfort Works is essentially a perfect marriage of Design and Technology.   Our mission is to rejuvenate the world’s tired homes. Through our platform, we give homeowners the ability to transform and customise their living space, all with a click of a button. Our application of 3D design, content delivery network and web engineering allows us to establish ourselves as the industry leader in the niche of living room fashion and soft-furnishing. 

In CW, we design, create, source, prototype, market, package and fulfil everything in-house. We’ve rejuvenated more than 50,000 living rooms to date. We have begun investing in machine learning commerce and mobile application as part of our future expansion and product architectures.

Our customer and products base are growing rapidly and we need a new site and new technologies to help propel us to the next thing in the e-commerce ecosystem.  We need great, like-minded people to help us further our mission and to join our team of talented folks, who are ambitiously and ridiculously determined to save people from ugly living spaces. 

If you like the early stage, we’re in that magic sweet spot. We are not a fad. We are 100% self-funded but have a REAL and PROFITABLE business on a global scale (find out how we did it!)

About this role

We are looking for a forward thinking, front-end loving, budding full stack ninja who is looking for growth. In this role, you will have a chance to put your development skill into redesigning the base of our tech & e-commerce platform as well as explore machine learning as part of our future expansions and product architectures. This position requires you to be working in our kickass Kuala Lumpur, Malaysia office. This is not a remote position.

We generally favour the can-do attitude over hardcore technical skills. We promote autonomy, proactiveness, sustainability & eco-friendliness in the work that we do.

Responsibilities:

Identify, address performance bottlenecks and maintain, upgrade existing e-selling platform

Collaborate with product development, user experience, production and customer service teams to build tools and automation for scaling up internal operations.

Participate in creating a new custom-made web shop and backend architecture for our high-traffic e-commerce platform that is scalable, extensible, and efficient.

Explore machine learning as part of our future expansion and product architectures.

Uphold team standards for code quality, test coverage, efficiency, optimisation, scalability, security and constantly pushing the bar higher.

If you are an awesome full stack Developer, you already know what we are looking for:

BS in Computer Science, Software Engineering or the equivalent.

Well versed with PHP (Object Oriented / MVC) with 2-3 years relevant working experience 

Ninja-like skills with frontend technologies like  JS, CSS, JQuery, VueJS.

Great logic, problem-solving skills (loves strategy games) and data-driven decision making.

Intermediate level (B1, B2, C1) written and spoken English 

Nice to Have:

Experience with popular analytics services like Google Analytics, MixPanel

Working knowledge of Prestashop, Magento, Woocommerce, Opencart would be an added advantage.

Experience with designing and optimising for mobile web and mobile device

A Github page or similar portfolio of previous work or contribution to open source projects

Benefits, Work Culture & Compensation

Competitive salary package, medical insurance, and 2 company trips yearly (We’ve done white water rafting, jungle paintball, escape rooms, flying fox, ATVs)

Work within a multinational team, from countries like Australia, Poland, Tunisia, Italy, Japan, India, Indonesia, Malaysia, Singapore & China.

Working Visa, Accommodation and Return Flight provided for Expats.

You’ll also get whatever hardware and software you need to ensure that you can play, create, learn, and grow more every day

A casual working environment with a fully stocked fridge.

Team lunches and social events such as board games nights, bowling, futsal, online gaming, BBQs by the pool.

Fresh graduates are welcome to get in touch.

Technical Skill Upgrade

Work for an awesome CTO who empowers his people. 

Sponsored courses for personal development in Node.js & PHP.

Cost covered for one work-related conference per year.

Business Skill Upgrade

Join a team of people who grew a startup from a garage into a PROFITABLE business with NO FUNDING. 

You will be working with cross-functional teams from design, marketing, international sales & customer service, and expose to all business decisions daily.

Sit in on internal digital marketing, SEO, social, Adwords training classes.

Soft Skill Upgrade

Be in an environment that will train you to be the best version of yourself.

Attend creative learning sessions, skill shares and leadership programs

How to Apply: Resumes are welcome of course but please feel free to include websites, blogs, portfolios, code samples, Github / Bitbucket / GitLab accounts or even just tell us a bit about what you’ve been working on and why you love it. We love to see people’s side projects, hobbies and toys.

StartUp Jobs Asia - Startup Jobs in Singapore , Malaysia , HongKong ,Thailand from http://www.startupjobs.asia/job/39793-mid-level-full-stack-developer-training-to-be-a-senior-dev-provided-full-stack-developer-job-at-comfort-works-malaysia Startup Jobs Asia https://startupjobsasia.tumblr.com/post/176714940054

[omegasamwilson]

Hi. Thank you for contributing to this discussion and I am truly sorry that the episode was triggering for you.

CW: blood, medical trauma, foot wound, discussion oF panic attacks, PTSD

I have pretty severe gender dysphoria + much milder body dysmorphia + some mental health issues and PTSD related to medical trauma lacking bodily autonomy amongst a physical disability and some other brain shit.

When I analyzed the scene, I looked at it from the prospective of the fact that it was a fight, one with many complex factors, including the fact that Bucky had helped an international fugitive that had killed the Wakandan head of state escape prison. This factor alone complicated the situation in ways that most people would never experience.

If someone took my mobility aid because we were arguing or because they were annoyed with me or because they were upset or even angry with me, I’d probably be triggered and feel as though my autonomy had been violated. Or at least, I’d be far more triggered than I would be if someone had removed the same mobility aid in the context of combat. I don’t want to get too much into explaining but I have a medical advice that I need near constantly but if I have an episode of am triggered, my use of the device can easily become a tool that can harm myself or others. I’ve had trusted folks that know how to get that device away from me to prevent myself from causing harm to myself or to the people around me. While this certainly isn’t the same as the situation with Bucky, these situations are less triggering for me than other situations in which I have had medical devices and other necessary equipment removed from me (often for the purposes of medical procedures, which doesn’t make things easier).

Thank you for bringing up the point about the power shift, though. I appreciate that. I am definitely going to sit and reflect on that.

I will say this: it was a low blow. It wouldn’t have been my first move or something I’d even considered. But I’m not a Dora milaje. The Dora Milajes have been trained to identify any and all threats to the Wakandan crown and to protect their leaders from these threats by any means necessary, even if it means fighting friends or not playing nice. We see how defensive they can become in movies like Civil War, in which the Doras tell Natasha (an ally) to move or she will be moved. We see this again in Black Panther when Okoye doesn’t want to bring Ross back to Wakanda (which would save his life) because having an American intelligence operative there presents a threat to the throne. We see this even as most of the Dora milaje demonstrates loyalty to Killmonger despite their grief and despite their disagreement with him.

Bucky, even though he felt himself justified, helped an international fugitive and murderer escape prison. This fugitive had previously threatened the Wakandan head of state. Bucky’s attempt to protect Zemo made him (at least in that moment) a threat to Wakanda, which means that he needed to be dealt with.

Any well placed injury is enough to shock and disorient someone, especially someone with PTSD. I imagine that breaking Bucky’s flesh arm or his flesh hand or even dislocating his shoulder could’ve caused a similar response and could’ve been similarly triggering. I had a full blown panic attack on Monday (+ the rest of my day spiraled) because I stepped on a lego hard enough to draw blood and the pain, sight of blood, + my inability to control my response to the pain was triggering af. I’d imagine that anyone with Bucky’s type of PTSD and trauma related to medical experimentation would probably be triggered by any sort of tangible or visible injury no matter the type or location of it. The removal of his arm was disorienting but perhaps might have been less triggering than having a limb broken or dislocated by someone you trusted would be.

Finally, I’ll finish up with this: I mentioned above that maybe the removal of his arm was less triggering than injury to another limb would be. Ayo was intimately involved in his reconditioning and treatment, and it is entirely possible that her decision to disable his arm was rooted in the fact that another move intended to incapacitate Bucky would’ve been more triggering to his PTSD and/or body dysmorphia. Going back to my above example of spiraling because I stepped on a lego, part of the trigger was that I stepped on the lego with good foot, and having that foot being bloody and in pain was what was truly horrifying to me. It could be that Ayo chose to target his prosthetic arm because that was the least triggering injury that would still remove him as a threat.

Sorry if this is rambly and distracted, I’m in a meeting right now and also doubled dosed my ADHD meds so my brain is all over the pace but very focused.

No, Ayo taking off Bucky’s arm wasn’t ableist. It simply wasn’t.

(Disclaimer: I am disabled but not an amputee so if anyone else wants to chime in, you are welcome.)

The context in which Ayo disables Bucky’s arm is important. In most cases, taking a disabled person’s mobility aid because of a real or perceived slight is incredibly problematic and ableist.

However, in this specific case, it was not ableist. Ayo wasn’t taking Bucky’s arm off because he was annoying her or because she wanted to make a joke, she was taking off his arm because he was literally fighting to protect the guy that had murdered her former head of state.

His arm, while a mobility aid, also has the capacity to be used as a weapon and is capable of things that most arms (human or prosthetic) are not capable of. Ayo made a calculated tactical move to disadvantage her opponent by removing one of his physical advantages, which was a super powered arm. Her taking off his harm is truly no different than if she were to break his flesh and blood arm or dislocate his shoulder in order to make him unable to use his arm.

Context is critically important to situations like these, and what happened was not ableist.