#like I know ozone is a gas (right?)

[mxalexwhat]

Holy shit, when statement givers said they smelled "ozone" around Michael Crew, I didn't know what that meant.

I just found an "ozone generator" when I checked into my hotel room (because the previous guest apparently smoked) and holy shit... Mike smells kinda bad.

[thedndgoblinwholivesinyourwalls]

Proposition: we make a shirt. What does it say? “Number one Adele hater.” We make like 200 of these bad boys, go to Kentucky USA and find a gas station, where we plant the shirts at a free shirt booth as if they are being sold there. We know that nobody knows who Adele is. But her sense of garbage bitchness radiates from her picture on the shirt and people hate it so much she hey get it without knowing her. Now by this point we are in Kentucky and it’s too hot for my Canadian ass so i crumple under the heat. You are wearing a jacket because it’s probably kinda not hot for you because your ozone is typically nonexistent. What does your jacket say? “NUMBER ONE ADELE HATER.” You realize I have died of heatstroke and are so sad but you can’t give up now so you start monetizing the shirts and manufacturing more of them. You make a butt ton of money and use some of it to throw us an Adele hater themed funeral, then because I’m a ghost now I can access all the worlds that ever were so I go and see Adele in real life and hit her with a chair.

Conclusion is that I am so sleep deprived right now lark please send help/j

Don’t ask why there’s an F on your forehead (it stands for figg LMAOOO)

[number1mongrel]

OKAY SO. Originally I didn't have much about my AU because I was focused on other stuff, it was just very driven by my annoyance that people write Enkidu like they're Gilgamesh's conscience, or are overall less awful than Gil, and I wanted to see more things where Enkidu, not Kingu or Gil, gets to be 'the bad one'. Or not even bad, but moral in a way that's harmful to humans. Because in FGO they don't consider themself 'a person', they consider themself A WEAPON, and a weapon's intent depends on the intent of its user. But then you said to keep talking and I spent an entire shift thinking a lot about this AU SO ANYWAYS!

At first Enkidu and Tokiomi seen almost perfectly suited. Tokiomi is the perfect mage and master, who made every effort to prepare for this Grail War, and whose victory is certainly assured. Enkidu is the perfect Heroic Spirit and Servant, they are unspeakably powerful and unfailingly loyal. But both of them are wearing masks, with Enkidu masking so hard that they believe that they're incapable of liking individuals at all. So it's only natural that they feel absolutely nothing for Tokiomi, right? They're a weapon and nothing more. And Tokiomi makes absolutely no effort to really get to know Enkidu or learn about them, so one could say that they make an unstoppable combination, and one could say they're incredibly professional together. But at the same time. Kayneth and Diarmuid have more of a relationship here. Kiritsugu and Artoria have more of a relationship.

Anyways, you remember that one bad end in the Fate route of Fate/Stay Night where Saber betrayal-kills Shirou, and then they're both really confused about why they even did that, and it's because you missed basically every affection flag for Saber somehow, which should be impossible? That's how Enkidu and Tokiomi's partnership ends. It's going absolutely fantastic, they actually seem to be winning better than anyone else they're about to get the Grail, Enkidu hasn't even consciously meant to betray Tokiomi, and then they just. Murder Tokiomi because Tokiomi completely failed to build ANY sort of relationship with his servant, and it's always the Master/Servant pairings that actually get along who succeed.

Because Enkidu was telling themself that they were the perfect weapon. But that's not true. They tell themself they've lost the capability to care for individuals, but in Fate/Strange Fake they still care for Gilgamesh, and come to care for Wolf. So even as they're telling themself they're the perfect weapon, things are going on in the back of Enkidu's mind that they're not fully registering. Things like how much this world BOTHERS them, with the knowledge of things like pollution, deforestation, extinction of animal species, melting ice caps, the ozone layer(since this is the 90s and the ozone layer is probably still An Issue--in our time it's actually repairing itself!) And there's also how Enkidu is now summoned and remaining inside a city, rather than remaining on the outskirts with their master. And their master, as I've said before, is not a Wolf that knows nothing about the Grail War and just wants to live. It's Tokiomi, who lives in the middle of the noise and buildings and cars, and who very very much DOES want to win the war. And while this is happening, Enkidu is just watching all the betrayals and tragedy going on around them, The Perfect Servant, The Perfect Weapon.

And when they're standing in front of the omnipotent wish-granter, either the last Servant standing or the last one aside from Saber, they snap. And the Grail grants their wish to fix all this in the worst way possible, because a lot of Fuyuki's buildings are now destroyed--they're incredibly thick forests and savage wild animals now, and living there is an incarnated and half-feral Enkidu, who is becoming a local cryptid in Fuyuki, and who the Clock Tower is having a HELL of a time covering up. The Fuyuki Fire was easy, just blame a gas leak or something--how the hell do they cover up SUDDENLY TREES??? They try and cut it down again but Enkidu is having none of it, so they just assign Kirei to keep an eye on it and make sure it doesn't get even more out of hand.

Enkidu had no interest in corrupting Kirei, I don't think, so Kirei never grew a backbone and just stepped down from the Grail War when Assassin was defeated. But upon seeing the awesome destruction Enkidu and the Grail caused, he ended up speedrunning his corruption arc. I'm not sure if Enkidu stays in the woods as The Local Cryptid, or if we get the inherent comedy of Kirei trying to accommodate a feral clay being with horns in the Orphan Basement for ten years. Anyways I think Kirei and Enkidu, like Kirei and Gilgamesh, both want to see the fully manifested Grail do its Grail thing, only instead of making it so only The Worthy can survive in the new world, Enkidu has gone full Eco Terrorism.

And that is my 'Tokiomi Summons Enkidu' AU. I'm not sure who is Archer instead of Gilgamesh, but presumably that's who Kayneth ends up summoning(It's probably not Gilgamesh, because Enkidu needs to be miserable. Or maybe it is Gilgamesh and Tokiomi keeps going 'no, you can't battle the King of Heroes, I need you doing These Things' and it just adds to the misery).

Sorry Diarmuid, maybe it's better this way.

OH I LOVE THIS SO MUCH!!! yeah, enkidu is very calm and gentle in strange fake even before they realize gil is there- because they're in an environment they're comfortable in and they have a master they can understand. while they chide gil for being a tyrant it's not really like they have a personal ideal to not kill people or anything like that- they just think of themself as a weapon, and if no one tells them what to do, they have to figure out themself what they want to use their weaponry on, and what they want to protect

also gil handshake enkidu sensory overload in gross modern stinky city

[futurebird]

Trump gets a lot of millage complaining about: - electric stoves - meat alternatives - low flow toilets and showers - CFC free hair spray (he's still mad we fixed the ozone hole) - LED light bulbs (which are objectively better than incandescent) - masks

But it's not just one old man's weird fixation, he's people really relate to these complaints. Some know-it-all do-gooder wants to lecture you, make you do something a little differently. It chafes. I almost understand, I almost relate to the frustration at things being degraded. It's like "enshittification" -- or I think it must feel like what we'd call "enshittification" though, the essence of functionally public "free" services getting worse has to do with greed. Someone is making my computer programs worse just to make a few pennies off of me and my data. The exploitation is what brings my anger.

Not making a hole in the ozone layer shouldn't be like that. But, I think many people don't see it this way. I think the people who feel angry about this stuff think it must be a scam in some way. Someone is getting rich.

With the electric stoves and masks its even more remarkable -- because the greatest impact is local. Your gas stove is putting particles in your lungs. Your mask makes you personally safer.

Maybe, being told to change makes people feel stupid, looked down on? Then when they don't listen liberals come right out and call you stupid... look down on you.

A similar issue is when people get angry that a vegan option simply exists. Not: "We are no longer selling meat burgers." just "If you want, if you like, you can have this non-meat burger."

This makes a certain kind of person see red. It is just being reminded that meat has a greater impact? Is it a feeling of being judged?

I'm not vegan btw. I don't think I'll become vegan either.

Could it be that "shopping your way to a green planet" is toxic in more ways than just not being viable? Maybe putting the responsibility for stopping climate change on "the consumer" chafes and opens the door to other kinds of ugliness.

[haberdashing]

because now I’m curious. self proclaimed air quality nerd, what recommendations have you for CO (and/or CO2) detectors?

...I will admit that I don't actually know a ton about the science here, but I definitely did my research into air quality monitors, and the things they monitor, before getting my own.

This... might be more detailed than you need, and it's less recommending specific monitors and more an overview of air quality in general, but I figure it doesn't hurt to err on the side of details.

First off, you need to figure out what substances you're looking for. Carbon monoxide (CO), carbon dioxide (CO2), radon, ozone, particulate matter (at various sizes), the catch-all category volatile organic compounds (VOCs)... probably other things, but those are the main ones. Frustratingly, you can't get them all in the same monitor. If there's one in particular you're especially concerned about, you can get a dedicated monitor for that; otherwise, you can probably pick two, three, maybe four of the things on the list if you're lucky. At worst, you can mix and match, but then you're the person with multiple air quality monitors in your home, lol.

This is my thought process about each of those categories and what's worth monitoring:

You need a carbon monoxide (CO) detector in your house, just like you need a smoke detector. Similar logic for both: they're not super common things to have an issue with, but you really don't want to need one and not have one. Simple carbon monoxide detectors along the lines of smoke detectors--where you're not really looking at the levels or necessarily looking to catch low-level chronic stuff, you just want it in case there's a Situation on your hands--are pretty inexpensive and easy to find. If you don't have one, get one.

If you're more worried about low-level carbon monoxide exposure, you can get a more detailed monitor for that too. Probably not necessary unless you have reason to worry about it. But if you're worried about leaky or badly-vented appliances, chimney/fireplace issues, car exhaust, anything like that, better to know than to find out the hard way.

The tips to avoid CO poisoning: make sure your appliances and the vents for the gas used by 'em are in working order, and get them checked out if anything's unusual. Keep fireplaces and chimneys clean. Don't run your car in your garage for any length of time, and definitely have the garage door open whenever it's running. Don't use gas appliances to heat your house, even if the heat's out. Don't use outdoor equipment indoors. And if you think you might have a problem, leave the area and get it checked out right away.

Carbon dioxide (CO2) mostly comes from people (or animals) breathing. Not gonna kill you aside from a few highly unlikely scenarios, but if there's a lot of people breathing in a small space, it can get to the point where it makes thinking harder, maybe causes headaches. We don't have a ton of research on what that does long-term, or even how much of an issue it really is short-term when it's not at those rare acute levels. I covered this a bit in the earlier post.

If you think there might be a lot of CO2 building up in your place, you can get a monitor, but just getting the air moving can make a big difference, too. Open a window. Turn your fan on high. Make sure your vents are moving air around in your place, that nothing's blocking 'em. Plants take in the carbon dioxide, so they can help some too, though that's hardly a quick or easy fix.

Radon's an environmental risk, not a personal one. It leaks out from the soil all around you. Either it's in the area or it's not. A one-off test can be all you need to know that much, but if the levels are high, monitoring them is a good idea.

Radon's a worry in the long-term, not the short-term. Chronic exposure causes respiratory issues, including lung cancer. If it's an issue, ventilate your house like with carbon dioxide, seal up cracks in the floors and walls, and think about calling in an expert. And if you've already got respiratory issues, or if you're a smoker, taking care of this is that much more important.

Ozone... is something I keep forgetting about personally, but it is relevant here. Unlike most of the others, ozone does have a smell to it, but olfactory fatigue means you probably shouldn't rely on just that for safety if you're concerned. Like radon, it's more of an environmental risk, unless you're using an ozone generator or something. (Pro tip: don't do that. Or if you must, at least check your ventilation first.) Also like radon, it causes respiratory issues with chronic exposure, and it's worse if you've already got respiratory issues.

AirNow lets you check levels in your neighborhood if you're in the US. I don't know international equivalents but I bet they're out there. If you can use AirNow or a similar source, I doubt a separate air monitor for it is really needed unless there's an ongoing problem, or if you're using stuff that'll generate ozone inside. (Again, ozone generators aren't a great idea. Laser printers and copiers let some out too, but it's probably not an issue unless there's a ton of machinery in a small, unventilated space.)

Particulate matter is anything that's in the air. Dust, dirt, smoke, soot, anything floating around in there. Different air monitors will track different sizes of particles (PM10, PM2.5, PM1)--the smaller ones can get deeper into your lungs and other parts of your body where you don't want 'em. Particulate matter can irritate your eyes and lungs, make asthma flare up, make some other problems worse too. If that sounds familiar, that's because this is a big one with those wildfires we've been dealing with. Smoke gets in your eyes, gets in your lungs, makes life annoying. But it's finer smoke than the kind regular smoke detectors will sense.

Honestly, these days, it makes sense to have some sort of particulate matter detector if you're concerned or interested, just as a heads-up. While opening windows is usually good for air quality, it's exactly the wrong move when the outside air's filled with wildfire smoke. It'd help if you've been smoking inside, though, or if your home's dusty, and those are particulate matter issues too. If it's bad in the area, break out your mask again. The masks you used for Covid will help here too.

Volatile organic compounds... sounds vague, and is pretty vague. It covers a whole bunch of types of air pollutants, including big names like benzene and formaldehyde, but also a lot of more obscure stuff. You find them in paints, solvents, pesticides, air fresheners, even cleaning supplies. Which seems a little backwards, that freshening the air and cleaning your home can create pollutants, but it's true. They can also come from furniture, carpets, and construction materials, especially stuff that's brand new.

Since there's so much lumped in here, the details of what they can do vary wildly. Eye and lung irritation can happen here, and also headaches, fatigue, dizziness, nausea, all those fun vague symptoms. Again, ventilation is the key here, especially when there's a specific issue--you just repainted your kitchen, you renovated your whole second floor, you had to break out the heavy-duty cleaning supplies after your pets made a serious mess, etc. And don't buy any of those things they come from in bulk and let them sit around in your house until you need them some years down the line. Just get rid of those old paint cans. Probably not a huge issue unless you have some specific reason to think otherwise, though, and if there's a specific chemical you're concerned about, you can look into measuring that more specifically.

Finances matter when you're looking at air quality monitors, naturally. The really good air quality monitors, especially with several different things being monitored at once, are a few hundred bucks each. If you don't have a ton of money and aren't really that concerned, there are lower-end ones too.

Some are portable so you can bring them places, especially if they're measuring one specific thing, so you can be that fun guy who brings the carbon dioxide detector to the party if you want. But if you just want to keep track of your home or surrounding area, that's not necessary. If you really get into this stuff, some monitors come with apps and connect to other devices and fun things like that.

I won't really get into specifics of different air quality monitors; it depends what you're looking for and what your budget is, and Googling "best air quality monitors" or "best (insert specific air issue) monitor" will give you some good information there.

But I'll provide my own air quality monitor as an example of how this can apply to a specific person's life, and hopefully it doesn't come off too much like a plug.

For a while I've been struggling with some vague health symptoms: fatigue, headaches, trouble focusing. Obviously there are a lot of things that aren't air quality that can cause that, and I don't have known respiratory issues or any other reason to think I'm especially sensitive to these things, but I wanted to cover the air quality angle of things too, just in case. And I was willing to plop some money down on this, but not quite the full several hundred dollars of the most high-end ones.

We've already got a basic carbon monoxide detector in the house, never had the alarm go off, no real reason to think our appliances might be having issues there. But my room was recently painted, and we've had some recent renovations in the house besides that, so VOCs were on my radar.

I went with a Qingping brand air monitor for about $130. It tracks particulate matter (PM2.5), VOCs, and CO2, as well as temperature and humidity. There's some simple green/yellow/red color coding, not a lot of frills, it's small but not exactly portable, but it covers a fair bit of ground while being cheaper than a lot of the higher-end, big-brand stuff.

I wasn't really planning on using the CO2 tracking much, but it turns out my room's great at keeping air in and not letting it out, and after a night where several pets have been sharing the bed with me, the levels can get on the high end. (I've seen levels higher than 2500 ppm a number of times--for reference, that's the high end of some of those studies I shared in the earlier post, so it could definitely be interfering with my sleep and concentration when I hang out there!) But turning on the fan or cracking a window generally gets levels down. I'm thinking about having someone clean our ducts, too--it hasn't been done in the over 30 years my parents have owned this house, and that could be part of the reason my room's so bad about keeping air in it.

VOCs, on the other hand, were a lot of why I got the monitor, but haven't been a major issue, except right after my room got painted or right after our house cleaners stop by. They tend to stay in the vague yellow range, where it's not great but not horrible, and aside from house cleaning and that one time my room got painted, I can't easily tie this to anything in particular going to cause it.

Particulate matter... I used to joke that it was just a good way of knowing whether my parents have smoked pot inside lately. (It's legal here and I'm not judging, and it never caused really dangerous levels of PM or stuck around long, but I could definitely see the spike when it happened.) Then the Canadian wildfires hit, and. Well. Now it helps me know when to close the windows to keep the wildfire smoke out. And reminds me that there's a reason my eyes were watering when I took that walk outside.

As a snapshot of the current data here: PM2.5 is up to 104 μg/m3, which is orange-red on the monitor--we did cook breakfast inside a few hours ago, which might've made some smoke, and I think my parents let a lot of outside air in when they were coming and going a few minutes ago, and it's definitely a day where the Canadian wildfire smoke traveled down here and made itself a problem. Might skip my daily walk today with that in mind. VOCs are 2.072 mg/m2, or yellow on the monitor... but I never really know what to do with that information, honestly, since it's such a big category with so many possible sources. CO2 is 1173 ppm, or yellow--I've got pets in the room with me, but the fan's keeping air moving, though it's still not down as low as I'd like it.

I'm enough of an air quality nerd that I've actually made a spreadsheet where I log my chronic headaches and the VOCs and CO2 levels at the time of the log. (Not PM--that's not usually a headache thing, I don't think, and it wasn't an ongoing concern here pre-wildfires.) It looks like there's a bit of a correlation there, but not a huge one, and it might still be too early to know for sure. I've also got a cheap digital barometer and log the air pressure in there, too. I've always suspected my headaches came with the storms, and that does seem to be supported by the data, with lower air pressure leading to worse headaches.

And actually, come to think of it, I might go look into one of those one-off tests for radon. A neighbor mentioned having issues with it in her house, I don't think we ever had it checked since moving in, and it's definitely something I want to know about, especially with my dad's asthma.

I do check AirNow now and then, and actually we've got one of those smart home devices (not my choice) which has AQI (air quality index--basic overall air quality tracker, generally focused on particulate matter and ozone outside) listed on it right with the weather, and I generally check that before heading out for a walk or anything else where I'll be spending a good chunk of time outside.

So... hopefully somewhere in there is information that'll help you, anon!

[flars-in]

How do you squeeze out an F# fart note? I've got the hang of the E, G and the others, but the F# seems to give me trouble. I'm laying on the side, with my right knee squeezing against my stomach like you said, but all i get are wet sounds. Is there anything dietary i should change?? Help Chef Flars!!!

Hello, my beloved and splendid fan,

First of all, welcome to our emerging community. I’m glad you chose me to address your query. It sounds like you might have trapped gas. I recommend you visit one of our greatest specialists in gases, Dr. Frankaka Poto Fartke. She has created and developed an amazing technique to relieve trapped gas, and it doesn’t involve any weird implements—just her hand (or more specifically, her finger).

There is no dietary change that can replace the expertise of Dr. Frankaka Poto Fartke. If you want to know more about her, I recommend checking out the Daily Magazine The Fart Press, where you can read some of her exceptional articles, such as: How Farts Have Evolved, How Farts Will Reign Our Planet, The New Farty Ozone Layer, Unknown Farts, Fart Selection, Fart Tectonic Theory, Theory of Moral Fart, Farts: Theory of Combustion, Evolution by Natural Farting, Fartcentrism, The Universe is a Fart, Anti-Fartism, Larsi Farty: The Apostle, and more.

[ziskeyt]

oooh. i mean it's such a good line cause why the hell wouldn't we care about where we live? I am not a superhero movie person so i am just like huh neat lol. For sure. Even now with what we do, there is no perfect. It's trying to get the message out of what needs to be done in a way that will be heard and will mobilize people. Then it seemed that what they were doing could work, and things did work! There's been improvement with the ozone layer. Did they know the full extent to the ruin that gas and other corporations were doing to our world? i don't think so? idk. seems doubtful. we know so much more now, and more connected now, so it can be easy to turn around and say those behind didn't say it all or do it all right. but i feel like a lot of what we know now is also due to actions then anyway.

lol that linke is from guardian's of the galaxy? haha i never saw it i was just like yeah nice tweet

The tweet was good! The line is good and it works well as a call back to the movie, intentional or not. (Rocket asked why he was risking his life for the galaxy/universe when it'd never done nothing for him, and the hero replied with "I live here." or something close)

I just hate when people blame previous activists for being imperfect. With hindsight, they too would've tried things differently but most of the time they didn't do (or not do) what they're accused of.

[worldsover]

Judgement to the Desiccated ft. Karina

length ✦ 5573

genres ✧ sm type future; asphyxiation; blackmail; virtual_servant!Karina;

✦✧✦✧✦✧

Air did a poor job of not being polluted so Lee Soo Man flooded the world instead. The man himself certainly must be long gone and could not have been in charge of that decision but the legacy of his company far exceeds the legacy of any other human collective in history. Once on this planet, gas was the fluid of choice for respiration and breathing was an unconscious reflex. Now there’s Aether by SM. How very on-brand of them to have the liquid air you breathe follow perfume naming conventions.

Open your eyes and exit the sleeping chamber. Aether has you work for each inhalation, it desaturates the color of the bedroom—maybe there’s a subtle but uncomfortable tinge of yellow—and it makes your nose itch. Your muscles wield much less force than they used to because of the lack of resistance the fluid provides. Moreover, it smells like hairspray as though the ozone layer is taking sardonic revenge.

Screens impersonating windows track your eyes to ensure realistic parallax, playing the scene of divine blue heavens that could not exist. An azure sky is a reward for those planets that have an atmosphere and a sun for light to scatter. Your walls are either chrome or drywall white and your whole bedroom is plainly decorated just like the day you moved in.

“Etymology of bedroom,” you think out loud, though it falls on no ears.

“Bedroom is a compound noun consisting of bed and room. Bed goes back to Old English bedd ‘sleeping place, plot of ground prepared for plants,’ which goes back to the Germanic-”

Plants and sleep are both strong words to use nowadays. The former doesn’t exist in nature and it seems you’re the only one who bothers with the latter. Faint buzzing distracts you from the AI’s response and signals you to the nano drones that swim throughout the liquid to process carbon dioxide from your lungs. This whole ordeal could’ve been much worse if you didn’t have brain interfaces doing the hard part of controlling your diaphragm. The most you need is a purposeful thought. Still, it gets tiring having to think the same thought every three seconds. In. Out.

Was the metaphorical Soo Man teaching a lesson in perseverance? You love K-pop and imagine it’s how trainees used to practice dancing, singing, being charismatic. Being an idol had to be as natural as breathing air. Inhale and exhale. Right now with any antiquated programming language you clung on to, you could write a single for loop that did the same job. For every three seconds: breathe in, breathe out.

“What’s for breakfast today?” Not loud enough. “What’s for breakfast?” you think it louder.

“Welcome, master. Ae-Karina is ready for service.” It’s quite a kindness for SM to blur the bland dystopia you live in by augmenting reality through your neural device. A bosomy woman in a gold-lined but otherwise modest maid outfit appears from the corner of your eye and she bows. Ae-Karina is bewitching and almost becoming of her basis as its graphics have gradually upgraded over the rotations but you wouldn’t misconstrue the avatar as human.

“I said, what’s for breakfast!” It feels impolite to scream in your head, there’s other residents there, but finally the fridge lights up.

“Of course master. May I remind you eating is unnecessary?”

In. Out. Every day, she does remind you, yes. How kind of the company to put all your nutritional requirements in the new air. Aether goes in then Aether goes out. You wish the thoughts of breathing could fade into the background but they’re just like your cravings for food. Always hungry but never starving, whole though not once satisfied. Your eyes pause at her gorgeous face and she tells you there’s bacon. Take it from your fridge. Bacon goes in. Well, the drones take care of the out.

Your assigned living space is the entire 207th floor of a tower. Two hundred and seven floors below the surface. The neighbor a few floors upstairs says that he thinks living deeper is a sign of status. What a luxury. That guy should check the status of his facial muscles, maybe improve his code that lets him tell lies while he’s at it. A couple hundred flights of stairs to swim up is a useless skeuomorphism of skyscrapers in the days of the sun. In fact they were more than useless, you would've preferred a single vertical hallway as it would have let you propel upwards unimpeded. Each floor is the exact same, a glass door that affords no privacy for its residence, a false tree on each side. At the upper levels, malls, convenience stores and other gaudy retail, but it’s the gyms that mock you that you mock in return. They’re always empty.

Finally reaching the top is no true break even if it is a change in scenery. Inhale. Aether tastes a little different up here. Exhale. Can’t say you like it.

Countless satellites form a parody of the star from which the planet flew away, the false image refracted by the upper boundary of Aether. They can’t take away your memories of this star. Looking up at the sky once blinded you with ultraviolet radiation, burning your cornea. It was beautiful. Now everyone’s decided that if they’re playing the part of corporate dystopia, they might as well fit the aesthetic. In a way, it’s self-fulfilling. They wouldn’t have chosen a neon pink sun to compliment the blue and metallic gloom of the cityscape if it weren’t so ingrained in popular media already.

Still, you would’ve expected Google or Walmart to become the megacorp responsible for the state of the world, not a Korean entertainment company. Must’ve been quite the red paperclip scenario. Instead of material design or utilitarian architecture, tacky artistic structures line the streets. The same advertisements for albums that they’ve been selling for the past however long. It's all so obvious, the city could've been designed from scratch to accommodate new forms of travel and goddamn liquid air but instead they went with futuristic Tokyo.

Dubstep permeates your inner ear implants. A notification informs your thoughts that it’s “Hip-hop EDM dance pop with a strong jungle house groove and urban influences.” It’s dubstep. Liquid carries barely any sound so SM affords the option for implants if you're nostalgic for one of the senses. Even though it’s a slower form of communication than direct neural transfer, the noise comforts you. Of course the company would choose dubstep as their background music, but maybe they make money off refunds somehow. It switches to Ice Cream Cake. Much better.

You walk the not so busy roads towards a short brick warehouse in the distance and heavy rain soaks your clothes. No such thing as weather without the sun and water but it’s all simulated anyway.

A warm Seulgi adlib and you know it’s Psycho that starts playing. No, none of your senses are real. The most you could trust is your vision but even that’s being lied to. You could be living in a vat and fed all these thoughts, but then why make it so mediocre? Not paradise, nor torture but a lukewarm in-between. Guess that's what happens when SM Entertainment manages the post-apocalypse. Good on them for trying. The alternative would be a frozen hellscape without solar radiation. Can’t deny their work with geothermal and nuclear energy to keep the Aether warm so that you didn’t have to live underground for the rest of human history. It’s quite great PR to save humanity.

“Hey now, we’ll be okay,” repeats a few more times than you remember.

The Idea Factory Alpha White Delta Green says the neon tubes lighting the front of the brick and mortar building. Your ID card bears a name but it’s not yours, not until they approve your name change. Those usually get processed faster with how often people liked changing their names.

Sit at a desk with a sterile white keyboard and slick new monitor. Type and empty words appear on the screen: “Think for the many, not for the one. We need to think ahead.” A thumbs up. The company appreciates the input. That’s probably enough work for one day. Some SNSD live stages help the time pass, SM certainly appreciated the streaming numbers and it would net you some social points.

It’s hard to say what comes to mind when they ask you to envision a world without the sun and air, especially since it’s what you’ve known for... Two hundred years? There’s no frame of reference, that much you can tell from when you counted seconds to see how often the satellites completed their orbit. SM really took time to have them propel at random speeds, they love withholding sensitive information like that from citizens. To be fair, time is sensitive. Guess the meaning of that phrase changes like all parts of language.

Look around. Dozens of employees at identical workspaces all try to answer the same questions. Naturally, there’s no need for manual labor anymore but there will never be a replacement for human ingenuity. Nice slogan but you know you’re only here for data. Can’t see a need for customer retention though—what’s the alternative, skip Earth? See you on another planet?

“Hey bro, you come up with anything new?” Dave says. Two desks away, you see the enthusiastic, surprisingly spry man play around with a Newton’s cradle. The balls at each end bounce back and forth, not slowing down their rhythm any time soon.

“I think I got something,” you say, “Earth is not the answer. It can’t be, long term.”

“Ooh, I like that. Actually, I really like that.”

“What are you gonna do, copy me?”

“Of course not. You know how much SM hates plagiarism.” Click. Clack.

“Ha. As if there’s a single original thought left in the world.” Click. Clack. The imaginary sounds of metal spheres bouncing play in your mind. They got the volume wrong, no way it’d sound that loud from that distance. “You’d think with all their resources, they’d have figured out space travel by now.”

“I don’t think they want to leave, bro. Wouldn’t be great for profits.”

Your mouth opens to laugh and causes laugh8942.mp3 to play in Dave’s head. “I love it. SM probably hates that sass too,” you say.

“Oh no, they’re gonna arrest me for thoughtcrimes. Nah, they love creativity, just when it suits them. Also, if they actually did bust you for wrongthink like rumors say, I wouldn’t have this on me.” Dave twirls a finger and points at you and you thank his absurd flair for the histrionic that keeps you amused with such drab work.

“NewDrug.mp6. Would you like to play it?” the dry system voice notifies you.

“Woah woah there tiger, hold on.” Dave must’ve noticed your intrigued eyes and holds his hands up. “You might wanna experience that at home. But if you’re interested in more, ask for chicken parm at the vegan place. You know the one.”

Dave leaves his desk. He doesn’t return. You finish your work. Inspire. Expire. You’d rather not.

In contrast to your commute to work, the roads fill with others on your way home. You have to know. Take solace in the comfort of a bench where a huge McDonald’s arch bathes the surroundings and its people with a yellow glow. Really shouldn’t watch it now, especially if Dave says it’s a home type of watch but you have to know. A family of five watches you pass out. They, along with every other passerby, ignore your still body draped over the chrome outdoor seating as you look like yet another junkie. The title is correct after a fashion, the simulation is some sort of new drug. The details of the exploits that happen in the immersive replay wash over you but you don’t need them to know that it’s the sort of lewd that SM would not allow—at least not publicly and not without the right exorbitant payment.

Suit pants and underwear go straight to the laundry. That must’ve been an embarrassing sight but no one bothered to stop you, so it doesn’t matter. Look up where this vegan place was that Dave so presumptuously assumed you knew about and you find that it’s about four Avengers’ stores down from work. He must’ve eaten there before.

“Yo Dave, just wanna make sure, what’s the name of the vegan place called?”

“What are you talking about, man? You telling me there’s some secret underground farms that SM wouldn’t know about?”

You can’t tell when you got to work, a lack of standardized timing would help as well the haze of living in a monotonous dark. “Nah, I mean, for the-”

“I have no idea,” Dave emphasizes each word, “what you’re talking about.”

“I see.”

Work flies by, unusually.

“Hey, can I get a chicken-”

“Uh, this is Maron’s Veggies Only, it clearly says on the sign.”

Clear your throat. “Parm.”

The shifty part-time worker looks around and rubs his fingers gesturing for money. “No digital.”

Over the counter, you pass him a gold coin stamped with a holographic 1 and he hands you a USB stick and a laptop in return. How old-fashioned.

“It’ll sync with whoever you have set as your avatar experience aspect,” the worker says.

“Thanks.”

Ever vigilant as the patrol is, the alleys are the last place you want to go to hide with the obvious criminal element within them all but you head to one anyway. Dump the anachronistic technology in your storage pocket dimensions. Looking at its contents, you’d have to clean that mess up later, but the more you look like an average slob the better. The biggest problem with the inventories is all the people squatting in them. Inspectors wouldn’t care about the archaic ruins you left in yours.

“Welcome, master. Ae-Karina is ready to service.”

“I’d like to go on a date. A special date.” You highlight the key word special and sit on your living room couch. No one’s going to look in your glass door and regardless, you wouldn’t be the pervert for glimpsing into someone’s home.

“Ah yes, master. Ae-Karina is ready to fully service,” she says with a provocative tint in her tone, her sclera disperses to black to match. A pole drops from the ceiling while parts of her maid outfit dissolve which reveals more of the silky skin of her thighs, her lissom arms and most importantly her overflowing breasts. Ae-Karina wraps her legs around the pole and spins around, teasing fingers trace curves on her body to harden you. Her dance is precise but sultry regardless. She pulls up her short skirt to flaunt more of her ass beneath white panties and then pulls down to flourish her cleavage, not trapped by a bra. “Are you enjoying your maid’s show?”

“Very much so, yes,” you say.

Half of a smile forms before a glitch occurs and she teleports next to you, fully nude. It doesn’t pull you out of the illusion however. You just stare and drink in the splendor of her created body.

“You’re not going to touch?” Ae-Karina says.

A feel of her tits and you find it softer than pillows you used to rest on. Soft isn’t much of a character that exists anymore when the whole world is engulfed in liquid. No one has beds, especially with the rarity of sleep. Therefore, her mounds are a consummate dedication to the texture as you squeeze and pinch at her cute nipples.

Her maid outfit rematerializes as she straddles you. It provides more friction to your pants as she begins her lap dance. The weight of her body dragging across your legs and clothed erection induces your carnal impulses further. If only you could fuck the virtual idol. You have to make do with the imprint of her pussy lips on your bulge sliding up and down. Breath in. Breath out.

Ae-Karina pulls down your boxers and spits on your erection. It's not real but her hands so slick on your cock and you let reality slip. Real is for the past, you have desires gratified in the present. There is no real person nibbling at your neck but your nerves activate in sexual desire without discernment for truth. No, she doesn't love you, but when the voracious mass of ones and zeroes says it loves its master, you say it back.

"I love you."

ILOVEYOU infected ten million computers in 2000. An explosion. Calibration engaging. It’s 1:21 PM, Sunday, July 18, 2286 and hypothetically the sun would be out in its full rage. At this latitude and longitude, you’re at what was once the epicenter of all—Seoul, where a fountain caused a chain reaction allowing the hopeful remnant of a world to exist. It lasted a surprisingly long time without the sun and without Aether but the dying planet would succumb inevitably to the ever-increasing contamination so SM of all corporations took charge. A different kind of chain reaction occurred when they acquired a restaurant chain that discovered the recipe for liquid air. The law is on its way and prepared to punish you to its full extent.

You reel while your ears ring. An even sexier version of the woman you already fantasized about appears from your peripheral vision in the crater of your floor. A skimpy cop outfit, striated with reflective material that seems to wane black at different angles, outlines Karina’s curves. She has a tool belt with absurd gadgets, such as a knife baton hybrid, a taser combined with a spray bottle and a Tamagotchi. None of this is necessary. They could just immediately arrest you, impose limitations on your devices. Sure, SM cloned people to deal with underpopulation, but why Karina would be the enforcer is a whole nother issue. Maybe the entertainment company loves their irony?

“Halt. You’re under arrest. Any resistance will be penalized according to the combined Terms of Service of all SM and SM associated products.”

Fucked anyway, you figure you might as well go for it. Escape into your inventory and only seconds later you’re forced out. You manage to get what you need regardless.

“Violation of access rights will be charged to your account.”

It’s so obvious but there’s a reason you kept so much gold in physical storage. As you swim away, the sides of your apartment start to bubble. Bubbles? Already, your limbs feel unsteady. Something’s wrong in the Aether.

“This is standard procedure for escaping suspects that are indoors. Again, this is all agreed to under the Terms of Service.”

“When the fuck did I ever click accept to that shit?”

“When you were born in this world and decided you want to stay in it,” Karina says out loud. You hear her say it. Your physical ears process the vibrations in the air that come from her mouth. Gravity thwarts your desperate escape as your limp body floats on the limit between liquid and air. The atrophy of your muscles becomes apparent within the gaseous atmosphere. She watches you sink down as the room drains of all the false air though her eyebrows crease when she inspects you closer. Your breaths are involuntary. Despite your muscles shorting out, the force of gravity and the pressure of the gas bearing down on you, you’re breathing and you don’t mean to. Her eyes wander farther down. On your pants, a concrete rod stamps the fabric.

“Oh, you like what you see?”

“Shut up, criminal. Anything you say can and will be used against you.”

“Your pussy,” you say and she scoffs.

“Original.” Karina bites her lip as your erection continues to grow behind its prison. You use all effort to put your hands up.

“Please, miss Karina. I’ve been bad.”

“I could punish you even more for sexual assault.”

“Then do it.”

Heat radiates the room in a way you haven’t felt in a while and droplets of sweat form on each of your bodies, especially on the thighs that her revealing outfit parades. Her facial features contort in deliberation and the wait kills you. You bat your eyes at her before Karina takes off her tight shorts and drops herself into your anticipatory face. This makes no sense but none of this life made any sense so you decide to go with the tides.

Centuries of training your respiration has led to this moment, but when you finally have real air to breathe, you spit at the opportunity and choose to suffocate. Then you spit at her pussy and lap it up. Karina’s nectar transfixes your olfactory glands, for once a smell that isn’t the sterile Aether. Your eyes are mesmerized in parallel because of the perfect design of her pussy, a single crease that leads into her hole that your tongue emphatically explores. Karina spreads her thighs wide to reveal a small nub that craves attention. So give it. Suck and swirl and flick your tongue, and the woman provides you the tight clench of her legs as a gift. And the sounds, rediscovered glorious noise. Loud, almost too loud, and clear is how they assault your ears, even surrounded by the flesh of her thighs. Muffled by the weight of her legs, you hear Karina moan in approval but she’s still clearly in charge with how she chokes you with her legs. This is not about your pleasure but hers, and any satisfaction that you derive is not only incidental but probably punishable by SM copyright law.

Karina squirms her hips subtly on your mouth. Her eyes are sharp and she’s just about to stop your hands from moving but she notices them clasp together.

“I’ll do anything to make you cum, please.” you say sloppily as her pussy juices fill your cheeks and drip down your chin.

“God. I can’t.” She takes deep, contemplative breaths. ”That’s more time added on for inappropriate behavior.” Her groaning and brief squeals make her words sound incogent.

You give her a concluding lick and a kiss on her slit. “So what have you been doing right now then?”

Point to a corner of the room and a subtle red light indicates a recording camera. At once, she pulls out a hose from a pocket that could not fit it and the vacuum submerges the room with noise. Her expression shifts quickly to serious.

“We don’t play games here in SMTOWN unless it’s SuperStar so don’t fuck with me.”

“Look who's trying to be a comedian. How about you fuck with me any further and the video gets released.”

“That’s funny, you think you have any sort of power-”

“Yoo Jimin, I suggest you don’t push me more.”

“Where do you know that name from? Right now.” She weighs herself down on your neck.

“You think I don’t have contingencies for if I die too? Karina, we can make this a  win-win scenario. We both get to cum, we both get to walk away unscathed.”

“Fuck you.”

Your weak arms wander between her thighs. At any moment, a feeble punch towards your face or another ten seconds of asphyxiation and she could call your bluff. Even if you did have the ability to expose her perversions in any way, there would be no permanent recourse, not as long SM was in charge. So it surprises you when Karina takes off her shorts. 

“Goddammit. Your cock just looks too good. And your mouth, how are you so good with it?” Put up five fingers when she motions to remove her top as well, and instead she opts to take off your clothes, seizing your pants and throwing them to join the rubble in the room.

A finger slips in, then two and a third dares. Her flawlessly architected pussy lips clings to your digits and Karina shudders in reply. You explore her wetness and find it’s smooth to the point of having no faults, but her juice inside is gloppy and causes your fingers to stick more than the liquids she spills from her slit.

“Who said you’re allowed to have more?”

You lap up the nectar on your fingers. “Then why’d they make you taste so good?”

Your thumb teases her sweet tight asshole and puts just the slightest amount of pressure on it while you finger her with more intensity. The mass of her butt burdens your torso the closer she gets to orgasm. Her eyelids squeeze close and you see her body ripple in anxious pleasure. Karina shows off her pearly whites, teetering on the cliff of hysteria.

“Yes, yes! I’m so close,” she screams.

"Not yet."

“Fuck." Karina sobs, "God. Damn, fuck I'm sorry. I'm sorry. Just fuck me.”

“My pleasure,” you say. There’s no need for you to grab her since she brings herself down to your groin, which you’re thankful for as your arms are as good as jelly now. Fortunately, your cock throbs as hard as ever while Karina’s slit rests on it.

“Say you’ll delete it all, all the evidence, promise me.”

“You’re gonna fuck me first or what?” Your breath hitches while she makes a strangled noise as her velvety walls swallow your cock whole to leave no room for comfort. Her tightness is stifling and you have to start counting just to breathe again.

“One two-”

“Be quiet.”

But there is no quiet when pleas for your cooperation intersperse her excessive profanities when she seats herself into your cock and ricochets up and down. Sweat emanates from her creamy skin while her legs widen to find a better angle for her supporting knees in her cowgirl position. Grapefruit and other citrus mingle with the scent of the sweat, fruits you haven’t seen except on billboards in music videos. As much as your mind crackles and your blood roars for every atmosphere of pressure Karina’s walls provide on each thrust in and out, you can’t help but reminisce on sweeter, more innocent times.

The white fluorescent lights in your apartment sputter. For all the advancements in technology, some among many things never change. Light refracts differently in air, less bright, but you can see the pure enjoyment on Karina’s face no matter the luminescence. Karina slows her ride to pull her hips down harder instead and she jolts when your cock finds the most tender spots inside her pussy and it interrupts her babbling.

Karina almost hyperventilates when she gets up to spit on your cock. She pulls out some kind of meter from her tool belt and sighs when there’s no beeping and you recognize it having to do with carbon dioxide. She gets back to dribbling saliva and the filament trailing down to your shaft mesmerizes you. This spit is real, not simulated, and it wettens your erection in a mix with her pussy juices to paralyze you further in your already listless state. Her bare thighs jiggle and you can’t exert much force with your hands but her buttcheeks are firm with just a bit of give.

“Thank you for this cock, thank you for being bad,” Karina says as you watch her ass sink deeper while her pussy holds your dick taut. She’s frenetic when bounces up and down to play an unadulterated orchestra of slick noises between your groins.

“You’re welcome,” you accomplish getting out the words between planned breaths. Your hands cup her buttcheeks but you fear they may break with how she strikes her ass into you.

Karina turns around once more to give you the spectacle of her facial expressions as she fucks herself into you. Knead her calves laying on your torso and they take no energy to spread them though she brings them back together, compressing your hard shaft within her pussy. A new game you play with her, a separate rhythm of loosening and tightening. Her feet press on your chest to help her bounce, but the way they bear down on your lungs against the timing of your breathing causes you to fumble. Your cock bends straight forward as she plunges herself into you and it sends prickles to your entire skin, making the new angle difficult but worth it. Karina takes your hand and starts sucking on your fingers.

“You want my promise that bad?” you say.

“Yes, as bad as I want your cum. I swear, I need it.”

She draws her knees up to her torso and hugs her legs to keep thighs as tight together as possible. Karina couldn’t keep her word, she was trying to kill your cock with constriction.

“Fuck, your pussy is so fucking tight. God, Karina, fuck. You’re so good.” Even if good isn’t the word you want to use to describe her.

“Do it, please, please. I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, baby. Karina can be a good girl, a good maid, a good cop, whatever you want. Just don’t get me in trouble, please.”

Karina’s mouth stops saying words though her lips writhe, drunk in increasing lust. Her cheeks flush, before the rest of her skin joins in redness while she grapples your chest and whatever spare limb she can find. You still struggle wresting control of your body but nature seems to take over when you drive yourself into her and match her needy cadence. The air in the room is replaced by a new air but it isn’t Aether. Passion, sweat, heat and all fluids that you both exude join squelching sounds, slaps and moans in harmonic bliss when her body tenses and she screams. As her body tightens, her pussy especially holds your cock for dear life and endeavours to wring out all your semen as her wetness throbs and spills. Karina starts counting to three repeatedly and you laugh though your amusement quickly subsides when you feel her juices become more viscous and she continues her ride, even in the dying pulses of her climax.

“Was I good?” Karina asks.

Just a moment goes by before you mentally send her a screenshot of all the recordings being deleted. Karina hasn’t stopped fucking you yet so at least it wasn’t a ploy.

“Thank you, thank you, I love you.” The flexion of her pliant legs brings them all the way back to rest on top of your legs. Karina lays prone above you and finally give you a kiss. The citrusy flavor may be closer to lime than grapefruit but it’s been so long that you can’t remember which scent is which. Lips crash and her tongue lashes out at yours trying to establish dominance. Keep still to let her investigate your mouth while her pussy does the same to your shaft.

You savor the way Karina’s top emphasizes the bouncing of her tits synchronous with the rebounding of her waist on your cock, but your mouth waters when she frees them. Take the shortest moment to relish in the sight before Karina smothers you with her plump globes. You wriggle your face to try to breathe. Inhale, up and exhale, down, but all you inhale is the scent of her orbs’ sweat. Her hips undulate with a pace at least double yours breathing and the echoes of slapping flesh resonate throughout the air-filled chamber. The loudness is unlike any you’ve experienced in a long time. It’s almost a flashbang every time her ass slams into your lap, especially as you start to see white when orgasm threatens to overload you with preludial pulses.

The last words you hear infected ten million computers in 2000. Fade to black. Cut. You’re slammed out of existence back into existence as a sun rebirths both within you, heating your core to a dangerous high, and from your eyes, dazzling you in an unforgiving white light. In the throes of unconsciousness relapsing to consciousness back to tenebrosity, your streaks of semen suspend in the Aether like a dead tree resting from the wind. What flashes your mind in its orgasmic state are two things only you would remember, plants and weather. Your hyperventilation is unconscious but not unwelcome, as it’s the first time in a while your breaths were reflexive even in the liquid air. However, basking in your newfound power, you start to choke. Right. You breathe in and out again. In and out. In. Out. In. Out. Back in.

“Replaying KarinaArrestsYou.mp6.” A hint of vexatious glee in the system’s otherwise dry voice. You don’t stop for it.

✦✧✦✧✦✧ 

AFF, AO3

It’s pretty silly but the idea danced around in my head ever since I saw the absolute Black Mirror concept that SM had for aespa and I concur that Karina is insanely hot.

As I’m writing this, this Kurzgesagt video on the idea of a rogue Earth comes out and now I have to rewrite stuff to make it at least a little consistent. I’m obviously already going nuts with all these ridiculous sci-fi concepts but this video almost feels too targeted to me writing this for me to ignore it.

[medaknight4]

We’re Right Behind You

Chapter 8: Conversations in Coda

“Where to?”

It was a simple and daunting question. The Matoran looked to each other and, after deliberating, realized none of the five within their ranks had a solid answer. It was all vagueries, hopes and dreams.

“We were so focused on our past and present that the future eludes us,” Pukha explained. “Council would be most welcome.”

Varian pondered for a moment. “We know of an old Toa of Gravity who could point you in the right direction. Then again, I think he might actually be younger than some of us in present company.”

“I'm not against the idea but wouldn't directions be magnetism's purview?” Vinik added. Only Vare laughed; Basa rolled his eyes so hard there was the danger of having to comb the beach looking for them.

Norik raised a brow and glanced towards the Toa Cordak. “The word I'd use is grizzled but he has seen his fair share. He hasn't lead us wrong yet.”

“In lieu of a lack of other options,” Nikila began, “I vote we return to your base of operations and delegate a deal with them there.”

“Deal? Nikki, you'd be lucky if he doesn't sign adoption tablets right then and there.” Norik shot his teammate a petrified look and glanced elsewhere, clearly in silent and begrudged agreement. Lesovikk turned to Tohi. “How does that sound?”

“Hypothetical stonework aside, I doubt we see ourselves living it up all cushy like with a bunch of Toa. Maybe their team knows of a village down on its luck that needs a fresh tide of Matoran.”

Vinik smiled. “A Koro Defense Force. I think we have a future Captain of the Guard in our midst.”

The Ga-Matoran would have beamed with pride if she didn't deflate out of embarrassment first. Sehu lightly punched her on the shoulder. “Hey, I can see it.” The others nodded in agreement to put their de facto leader at ease.

The vote was unanimous: the Leftovers would find a new place to call home and make things right.

----

Nikila paced along the large canoe and lazily gazed towards its siblings that were moored behind. The responsibility of being night watch for the small fleet also came with the boredom of having no one to talk to.

At least Vinik has his ear training to center himself. If I tried to pull something like that with my powers, I'd have Les at my back complaining about the smell of ozone.

The thought amused the Toa enough to let out a chuckle. She was surprised to find out that it was responded in kind by the very soul she was thinking about.

“I was worried I'd never hear that again.”

Nikila swore under her breath, not even turning to face Lesovikk as she whispered. “What are you doing? You're supposed to be asleep like everyone else.”

“I'm not everyone else in this moment, I'm afraid.” The Toa of Air managed to rest his hands on his comrade's pointed pauldrons. “I, um, wanted to speak with you privately and figured now would be a good a time as any.”

“I hope you're just an insomniac tonight; I don't know how I'd feel if you faked being asleep just for my sake.” Lesovikk's lack of response told her everything she needed to know. “Mata Nui, you're hopeless.”

“Not when I have you around.” The warrior paused to sigh before he continued. “I realized something after being around Matoran for the first time in a while: most beings on this planet are just trying to get by in the circumstances they find themselves in. In extraordinary cases, it's even a matter of survival…”

Lesovikk found himself staring at Nikila's back, scarred and dented by battles long since fought. The newest was quite the scare: a Dark Hunter's power drills nearly skewered the Toa. She had tried to flank the behemoth to gain a tactical advantage; only her quick thinking and lightning saved her from a more grisly fate. In the moment, Lesovikk felt that she had run off again. Upon more recent considerations, he now understood that she was trying to mitigate losses like she always had done before.

I should have it more often.

“Have what?” The Toa of Lightning turned on her heel to look at her brother in arms. A few meandering clouds parted above and the moon, in its silent wisdom, shed its light upon the two. Les was not much taller than his fellow Toa but now he seemed so small, weighed down by the light of a realization that should have dawned ages ago.

“Your back. I should… I should have your back more often.”

Lesovikk hung his head in shame. Nikila simply huffed in approval and rested her forehead on his. Might as well, it was right there.

“It took you long enough.”

----

Norik's eyes lazily fluttered open as he breathed in the early morning air. Images floated through his mind as he took in the sky above: a smiling sea of silver; a peaceful, empty beach; a cool breeze that felt like laughter; a gentle hand on his shoulder; Varian–

“Varian, is that you?” Norik whispered. “Have we arrived? Felt like no time at all.”

His fellow Toa gave a grin. “Not yet. I wanted you to have some peace and quiet for once. You've earned it.”

Norik frowned in thought; he chuckled once he put the pieces together. “So you've traded the nightmares for daydreams. Why the change of heart?”

Varian flopped down into a hammock she made with her mind. “I got a taste of my own medicine if you can believe it.” She noticed her partner about to pipe up and deftly countered. “And yes, it was awful. Just the worst.” A pause. “I think we both deserve a break.”

Norik gently lowered himself and was glad to find a hammock of his own appear beneath him. “I would be coy but I could only imagine what you had to go through to take down Gatherer. It must have been… harrowing.”

“That's one word for it,” replied Varian. She pulled her knees to her chest and sank into the canvas she occupied. Her mask drooped, staring wistfully into the mentally synthesized sunrise. It felt like hours before she broke the silence. “I'm tired, Norik. I'm just… tired.”

The Toa of Fire's blood ran cold. Here was the paragon of hyperactivity laid bare before him in such a sorry state. That Dark Hunter ship was a crucible, Norik reasoned, and this newfound sorrow precipitated from the blaze. The revelation formed a lump in his throat and the warrior found himself reaching for his friend.

Curse this meager distance between us. If only I could–

Norik exhaled, closing his eyes. When the Toa opened them again, he found himself next to Varian. Neither of them knew who teleported who, but in this shared mindscape, did it really matter?

“I thought I could bite the bit and bear it for a couple more decades, you know?” Varian began, her voiced trembling. “But the fights took more and more out of– is there any of me left? Should I swear off combat missions? I've bottled this in for so long. What should I do?” She looked at Norik expectantly, waiting for her torch to light the way.

“I can't decide your Destiny,” he replied, a warm smile eventually gracing his mask. “I'm just thankful that the bottle shattered and not you.”

Varian was stunned to silence as Norik gently squeezed her hand. She stared for a while before realizing that the two had a week long boat ride to think about the future; the time for words was over. So there they sat, bathing in each other's company until it was time to wake up and smell the roses.

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[ceilingfan5]

do we request those? Uhh number 42, “I’m only here to establish an alibi.”, and bonus challenge you want to like add a leetol spreenkol of somting extra to it somehow involve a lochaber axe and/or crouching under a counter at 7-11 leetol spreenkol not necessary have fun

Anonymous asked:

42+43 from that prompt list for some taakitz sounds like it could be fun if you're interested :v

Anonymous asked:

42. “I’m only here to establish an alibi.”

Listen, everybody has to work a shitty job once in a while. Or maybe a lot, all the time, until it feels like your inside goop is threatening to become outside goop on a minute-by-minute basis, and you can barely hold on anymore, but you gotta keep holding on, because a few hours smiling and getting fucked with by customers is all that’s keeping you from the literal and financial brink, and you don’t have time to analyze the mental one you’re headed for.

It happens. It’s normal. It doesn’t mean you failed at your one dream in life and can never aspire to anything worth doing ever again, or anything.

So Kravitz is working at a fucking 7-11. He, for the most part, is working there pretty much by himself, and works the night shift pretty frequently. It makes him feel like a vampire in the least sexy way possible, but hey, he can have a slurpee whenever he wants. You’ve never lived life until you’ve had red sugar poison on tap. It’s not a pretty job. Dealing with truckers and teenagers, that sucks. Cleaning the bathroom? That sucks. Running the cash register? Believe it or not, also sucks. He was born to be a conductor. How often do conductors get guns flashed in their faces?

Kravitz has a pretty good poker face, and also doesn’t give a single fuck how much money the good ol’ negative four retains. His life may be worth peanuts, but it isn’t worth the fuckin sweaty sticky dollars that 40% likely have been in someone’s bra.

That? That he can deal with. But when a man--a beautiful man, The Most Beautiful Man, listen, Kravitz has fucking eyes--when a man in a shiny jumpsuit vaults over the counter, Kravitz doesn’t know how to react.

“Get down!” TMBM hisses, and, Kravitz, stupid, gets down. He puts his hands up, though, just in case.

It was kind of impressive that he just vaulted the counter like that, though.

“Is this-” Wait, you’re not supposed to say it. “What’s going on?”

“I’m only here to establish an alibi, get your hands down. I don’t want your nasty paper money.” TMBM scoffs and rolls his eyes, like the idea of money being made of paper and also touched by millions of people who do people-things with their time and bodies is both insane and also completely outdated.

“Rad,” Kravitz says, which is also stupid. “What, what are you running from?” Is he going to get shot by someone else? He would like the minimum amount of holes in his person, please. No no, keep the change.

“The Time Intervention Taskforce.”

TIT, Kravitz thinks, and does not say with his delicate mortal mouth.

“Right, cool, uh, are you drunk?” Kravitz backs away a little, just in case, but he, listen, he works at a gas station, he knows how people that are drunk enough to invent time police smell, and TMBM actually smells kind of nice, plus a weird layer of almost...ozone.

“Nah,” TMBM says. “Just in trouble. Sorry for getting you involved.” He peers over the counter, and then turns to Kravitz. “Name’s Taako.” He holds up his elbow and waits, like this is a reasonable and normal request for a reasonable and normal interaction. Kravitz cautiously bumps his own elbow to Taako’s.

“Kravitz,” he says, pointing at his nametag.

Taako laughs.

“You look like you’ve never done that before. What year is it, even?” He prairie dogs up again, catches sight of the cigarettes and tobacco on the wall, and gasps. “Holy shit. I went way too far.”

“Uh, yeah, it’s 2021?” So clearly he’s having some kind of episode. Kravitz certainly doesn’t want to call anyone about it, but Taako really can’t be behind the counter, either. “Do you have a vehicle you can go back to, or did you walk here?”

“No, I climbed through a rift in the parking lot.” Taako adjusts a stray lock of light blue hair from his bun. “So I’m a little bit fucked. But at least I’m in 2021 and nowhere near the explosion.”

“Explosion?”

The world slices open in the chips and pretzel aisle, and three people in silvery suits like Taako’s with shiny opaque helmets raise what look like fucking laser guns at the two of them behind the counter.

“CITIZEN 16,934,207,773, DO NOT RESIST ARREST,” the three figures seem to say in unison, in a horrible, hauntingly scratchy metallic voice. “RELEASE YOUR HOSTAGE AND RETURN WITH US TO THE PRESENT.”

“He’s not my hostage!” Taako calls over the counter. “HE HAS SEEN TOO MUCH AND WILL RETURN WITH US FOR PROCESSING.”

“Taako,” Kravitz says, as calmly as he can manage. “I don’t think you know how alibis work.”

“Maybe so,” Taako drawls gravely. “Hey, are you busy tonight? Cause I was thinkin’ we could get out of here.”

“I’m at work,” Kravitz explains slowly. He points to the nearest camera. “My boss can watch what happened and he’ll know I left-”

One of the three figures shoots and completely evaporates every camera in sight.

“You know, on second thought, let’s definitely get out of here.”

“Cool,” Taako grins, and seems to unzip a hole where nothing used to be. “Let’s see if we can shake ‘em, and then I’ll buy you a milkshake. Those still exist, yeah?”

“What happens to milkshakes in the future?” Kravitz has to wonder, and Taako shoves him bodily through the hole, and wraps his arms tightly around him, and they fall through space and time and worlds connected by strands and pipelines and dreams and wishes and data and long forgotten memories, and Kravitz only doesn’t lose his lunch because he’s busy using his mouth to scream.

He hopes he still gets paid for tonight.

[morvantmortuary]

hector my beloved!! im normally a bit shy about sending asks like this (hence the anon) but im very burnt out and just. love him so much and would very much like kisses and cuddles from the ghost man ;w;

- 🐈‍⬛ anon :)

There’s a slight pause, followed by a cacophony of crashing sounds from a door with chipping paint off in a corner of the foyer. After a moment, the door kicks open from the inside, the eerie light of a photography darkroom flooding the doorway for a moment. A moment later, the lone(?) occupant emerges: Hector! He braces himself against the doorframe, trying to kick something off his right ankle - something we can’t quite see though it seems to be trying to pull him back into the room.

“And! Stay! There!” He punctuates each word with a kick, finally seeming to shake whatever it was. It retreats to the shadows of the room with a ghastly wail. He slams the door behind him, leaning against it for a minute to catch his breath. “…Heard my name?” he says at last, shoving some of his long brown hair back away from his eyes.

“There’s an exhausted little soul here for you,” Rora says where she sits on the client couch, scrolling through endless Instas of exotic plants on her phone. She glances at you briefly out of the corner of her eye before she goes back to her screen. “They’re cute, but they seem like the world’s catchin’ up to ‘em.”

“Aww, now, we can’t have that.” Hector’s brow furrows until he spots you. “What’s the matter, sweetpea?” He makes his way across them room to you, pulling you into a firm hug. He smells like cinnamon from his coffee this morning, and lavender from his soap, and the hoodie where you rest your cheek against his chest has clearly been freshly washed. There’s also a smell just beneath that, something like a cross between ozone and old paper, something that doesn’t quite match the smell of film developer…

He kisses the top of your head softly before running a hand over your hair, leaning back to look you in the the eye. “The world’s not playing fair lately, huh?” He smiles at you, and despite the fact that his eyes still have the faintest explained sheen of purple to them, they’re warm. “That’s okay, sweetheart. We all run out of gas eventually.” He cups a hand to your cheek, and it’s softer than expected. (Man’s been keeping up with his hand lotion regimen, that’s for sure.) “Sometimes I have periods where I don’t take a new photo for like… a week. Maybe two. One time it was a whole month. And then I panic and I wonder if I’m ever gonna take one again, y’know? I freak out and think that I’ve lost my Sight.” He tilts his head to look at you, his smile crooked. “And then wouldn’t you know it, I find a really rad looking deer ribcage when I’m on a hike somewhere, and it’s like I never stopped.” Or something… bigger, but we’re not gonna talk about that right now.

He leans forward to very gently rest his forehead against yours. “You’re gonna be okay, sweetheart.” He says this plainly, as it’s a fact. “It’s alright if you’re running on empty. You’ll get it back. You’re tough.” He moves to kiss your forehead, his beard brushing your skin. “But you don’t need to be tough right now, okay? Take it easy where you can, be gentle with yourself. Whatever’s going on, it’ll shake out how it’s supposed to, and you’ll be where you’re supposed to be.” He seems certain of this as he continues to hug your waist, looking at you.

There’s a pause as he considers something. “Although, if someone’s giving you a hard time…” he takes one of your hands, lightly kissing the back of it. “You’re more than welcome to tell me all about ‘em, hm?” He holds it in his own, his smile just a touch darker. “I’d love to let you get it off your chest.” And he’s been needing a new subject for this current shoot, anyway. “But I’d be happy to help any way I can, though.” He carefully tucks your head under his chin so he can rub your back in slow, calm circles. “I got you, Querida, you know that.”

[moonliiteallniite]

Alkemia Sample Set Review - Curious Oddities

I originally posted this on reddit awhile back but I’m reposting it here because I’m trying to find mutuals and other blogs to follow on here surrounding the indie perfume community :^) So without further ado, here’s my first impression reviews of Alkemia’s Curious Oddities Sample Set. 

Memoriam: "Heirloom roses, memories wrapped in woodsmoke, a scattering of ashes" I wanted to like this so much, but honestly right now it's just this awful, acrid smell like something burning that reminds me of barbeque. I catch whiffs of rose and as it dries down it isn't as intense, but even then, I don't think it's something I'll wear. I might let it rest longer and give it a second chance someday. 3/10

Deus ex Machina: "fire hardened steel, rusted iron, warm motor oil, wet cement, burnt copper wires, and grey amber" Okay, I had no idea what to expect going into this one but I am pleasantly suprised! I'm definitely getting metallic and concrete, and what I'm assuming is the grey amber is tying all together very nicely. This one brings to mind an image of a steampunk laboratory for me. Overall it seems very wearable, and I'll definitely at least use up the sample. 8/10

St. Louis Cemetery: "Spanish Moss, crumbling stone, old cement, red clay brick, and graveyard dirt" In the bottle, this is QUITE chemical smelling, guessing that's the concrete. On the skin the moss takes over and gives it a very green scent with that chemical bite lingering in the background. As it dries it begins to have a much more manageable scent with the dirt starting to come through. Closing my eyes and smelling it I can imagine walking through a cemetery after a rain storm, it captures the smell of wet moss and stone and dirt quite well. It's almost uncanny. Not sure how often I'll wear this but it's so damn unique and well blended that it's a solid 7.5/10 in my book.

Industrial sabotage: "burnt wires, twisted melted steel, shattered machinery, and gunpowder" Another one that I'm not entirely sure what to expect at first. And once again, WOW oh my god. Smelling it in the bottle it's such a surprisingly addicting metallic scent. As it dries down it doesn't change all too much but the gunpowder becomes more prominent as well. I don't know how to describe it in a way that does it justice. Imagine being in a chemistry lab, or outside at a gas station, or in a factory, and there's those scents wafting around that are unmistakably manmade and industrial in nature but also a bit intoxicating in a way that makes you want to keep inhaling. Dare I say... 10/10? I might have to full size this one.

Center of the universe: "Welded metal, gunpowder, burnt almond cookies, ozone, raspberries, rum" Such an odd combination of notes! But somehow works pretty well? I don't know if I really like it but it's definitely fine to smell. I almost feel like I get a whiff of a different note every time I smell this, alternating between those metal and gunpowder notes and those sweet foodie ones. Interestingly it sort of makes me think of being in a bakery or kitchen that's been freshly cleaned with chemicals, surrounded by all the metal utensils and food ingredients. A solid 5/10, I like it but not enough to FS and wouldn't be my go to sample choice either. Also it seems to start smelling like fruit scented cleaning products as it sits longer on my skin.

Supernatural: "Iso-E, ambrox, cruelty free tonkin musk, and intricate spirals of aroma molecules" So I have no experience with any of these notes so I cannot speak to if it smells like one would expect, but I can say that whatever it is, it's realllllly nice. I can't place it at all, and from what I've read about iso-e I guess it's pretty individual skin dependent anyways. I can't decide if this smells like something I've smelled in chemistry class before or at a spice shop or in the woods. There's definitely something sweet about it but not in a food way like with center of the universe. I think it reminds me of pine trees or maybe vanilla. Argh I just wish I could place the smell! I'll go with a 8/10 because it doesn't absolutely knock my socks off but it is incredibly intriguing and I'll probably use up the sample.

[kittenofdoomage]

Traps

@badthingshappenbingo​ Prompt: Compelling Voice

Fandom: Supernatural

Ao3 Link: Traps On Ao3

Rating: Mature

Summary: She’s on Michael’s trail to get Dean back (spoilers for S14)

Characters/Pairing: Michael!Dean, Dean Winchester x reader

Word Count: 2344

Warnings: angst, angst, angst, mind control, character death. This really is angsty, guys.

She’s too late again. The small cabin - more of a shack really - is empty except for the corpse on the floor, his burned and hollowed out gaze fixed on the ceiling. Michael’s gone, Dean with him, and she’s only following a trail of bodies.

With a weary sigh, she sinks down into the armchair by the door, sliding her hands along the upholstery to clutch the arms tightly. Her phone beeps, so she pulls it out, finding another hit, Singapore this time. There’s no pattern to his movements, except that there’s a body or sometimes bodies, wherever he goes.

Sam’s left voicemails again, begging her to come home. It feels like forever since she’s seen him, but it’s only actually been three weeks. A little more since she’s last laid eyes on Dean, stumbling through the portal from the apocalypse world. She promised Sam she’d go home but she can’t, not until she has him back.

She doesn’t bother telling anyone about the body in the shack, putting her foot to the floor of her battered Honda and gunning it away. Within hours, she’s got another possible sighting, and she’s turning East, still hoping she can get back the only man she’s ever really loved.

Sam calls. She ignores it. Pulls into a motel about sixty miles from where she needs to be because her eyes are closing on her and she can’t try and pretend she doesn’t need to sleep anymore. She manages four hours, still too much, and she’s back on the road, gas pedal pressed down, not even the radio for background noise.

There’s a good chance any song she hears is gonna remind her of Dean, and she’s not sure she’s strong enough to not cry.

The sun’s coming up as she pulls into Bridge Falls, over the steel construct that passes the waterfalls that gave the town their name. It’s picturesque, small-town America, and she hasn’t got a clue what Michael would want here.

A few hours of driving around leave her with nothing but an empty gas tank. She finds a motel, books a room, and tries to contact the witch who’s been tracking Michael for her. He doesn’t answer, and she’s left alone in the quiet, unsure what to do next.

The bedside lamp flickers and she hears wings before she sees him; her breath catches in her throat and she grips the edge of the bed she’s sitting on, staring at him in disbelief.

“You’ve been looking for me,” Michael drawls, inspecting his fingernails as he casually leans against the divider by the door. “Why?”

“You know why,” she rasps back, reaching for the pistol in the back of her pants.

Michael’s not dumb enough for that. She’s surrounded by grace in the next minute, suffocated by it, and the archangel steps towards her, finally looking right at her. Those green eyes she’s so familiar with hold nothing but contempt and amusement, glowing blue as he exerts his power to get into her head.

He’s watching her memories of Dean, right down to the explicit stuff, making her watch too, and there’s curiosity now when he looks at her. “What do you want?” he asks in a low growl.

His question is an order that burrows into her skull and forces an answer from her lips. “D-Dean,” she chokes out, and Michael pulls her to her feet with the squeeze of his hand around thin air.

“And what makes you think I’ll give him back to you?” he murmurs, inches away from her now. He doesn’t even smell like Dean - he smells like burned ozone and embers, like destruction on her tongue. “What makes you think,” Michael continues, lifting his chin, looking at her like she’s a bug that needs to be squashed, “he’s even still alive?”

She doesn’t. But she’s never stopped believing in Dean. She’s seen the things he and Sam have done, the things they’ve defied, and she refuses to believe that this is how it ends for him. Tears are clinging to her lashes as she fights Michael’s hold, staring him dead in the eye.

“I have faith,” she spits bitterly.

Surprisingly, he laughs, and it’s a foreign, stiff sound from Dean’s lips, almost as if the archangel hasn’t quite gotten the hang of it yet. He moves with a mechanical smoothness that belonged to Dean first, turning his back on her but keeping her in his celestial grip.

“Your witch is dead,” he comments; she thinks she might have known that already. “I thought it was Sam at first, he’s usually the one who comes running after Dean, right?”

When she doesn’t say anything, he glances at her, his lips quirking into a smile.

“Answer me,” he commands, and the order is too powerful to resist.

“Yes,” she squeaks. 

“Imagine my surprise when it’s you,” he continues, tilting his head as he finds her duffel bag on the floor. “The girlfriend.” He spits it like it’s a bad word, and she’s helpless to do anything but watch as he rifles through her belongings, finding her wallet and the stupid photo booth picture of her and Dean she’s kept tucked in there for twenty years.

Can Dean hear her? See her? Is he even aware?

“He’s not,” Michael informs her and she grinds her teeth together, willing him out of her head. He finds that funny, chuckling as he tucks the photo into his pocket. “I should send a message,” he whispers, drifting back towards her. “A way to tell Winchester junior that he’s not going to get anywhere,” his hands lifts and he drags his thumb over her bottom lip, “by following me.”

The pinning warmth of his grace recedes. He knows she’s not strong enough to fight him now, he’s seen every corner of her mind. She doesn’t move when he releases her, remaining on the spot, his fingers curled around her jaw now.

“I could snap your neck right now,” he hums, tracing the line of her cheek with one long finger. “Let Sam know where to find your corpse.”

His hand drops to her chest, sliding against the exposed skin where her stolen flannel is hanging open. It’s warm against her collarbone, and so much like Dean that she feels herself weakening, ready to beg for his life.

“I could keep you,” Michael continues. He’s pressing under her shirt now, his hand is almost right over her heart. “You’d do whatever is necessary to get Dean out of this alive, wouldn’t you?” There’s a lie on the tip of her tongue but she doesn’t let it fall, shaking as his fingers tuck underneath the strap of her bra. “I can see why he enjoys you,” he purrs. “You’re warm and soft.” He’s closer now, his nose pressed to her cheek as he inhales deeply. “He likes the way you smell.”

Please stop. Please stop. She can’t bring herself to voice her plea. If he’s going to kill her, she wants him to get it over with.

“I don’t think I’ll kill you,” he chuckles.

His hand gets warmer, and it doesn’t feel right, doesn’t feel good. It’s starting to burn, and she whimpers, trying to pull away.

“Stay still,” he orders, and she can’t help but obey.

The burning gets worse, like it’s reaching into her chest but worse, and she can feel memories slipping from her grasp, stolen away. Each little piece is hacked at, gnawed, burned out of her, and when Micheal finally pulls away, there’s a blank stare on her face.

He’s left a handprint that she’ll forget about in the morning.

“You’re going to sleep now,” he murmurs, the power of his voice just as strong even though he’s stepped away. She blinks three times, and the room is empty, and she doesn’t remember why she was even there in the first place. For a few seconds, she looks around, before a yawn splits her face, so she lies down, drifting off fully-clothed.

When she wakes, it’s daybreak. She packs her bag and checks out, trying to remember why she was even in Bridge Falls. There’s no hunt here, not even a whiff of demonic possession, so she’s back on the road by lunch, pulling into the next store she sees to buy a replacement cellphone. It’s easy to reload the numbers onto it, and almost instantly, she’s barraged by messages.

<<It’s Sam, can you please call me?>>

<<Sam again, just getting worried, it’s been three weeks, can you please call?>>

<<Y/N, please ->>

There’s text messages too, referring to someone called Dean, but she doesn’t know any Sam Winchesters or any Deans. As she’s mulling it over, her phone rings, and she answers, hearing a male voice on the other end.

“Thank god,” he sighs. “I was starting to think you were dead.”

“Who is this?” she demands, frowning at the familiarity in his tone.

He’s obviously surprised by her reaction as he stutters out his name. “It’s Sam, Y/N. Sam Winchester.”

“I think you’ve got the wrong number, dude,” she scoffs and hangs up. He rings twice more, she doesn’t answer and blocks the number.

By nightfall, she’s picked up a case in Lousiana. The odd phone calls have stopped and though it puzzles her, for some reason she doesn’t dwell on it. People are dying, and she’s got a job to do.

Two weeks later, she’s on the trail of a ghoul pack in Minnesota, and she’s stopped for some supplies at a local Walmart. She’s standing in the snack aisle, debating the merits of Cheetos vs Doritos when someone calls her, and at first, she thinks it’s her imagination. It’s repeated, closer, so she turns, raising an eyebrow at the slightly breathless and absolutely gorgeous man standing in front of her.

In the next second, he’s got her arms around her, and she reacts the only way she knows how; she flips him and puts him on his ass, swiftly pulling her gun free from her pants and jamming the muzzle into his chest.

“Who the hell are you?” she demands, and the guy splutters, staring up at her in shock with his hands by his face in surrender.

“Calm down, Y/N!” he stutters out. She narrows her eyes and jabs the gun in harder.

“How do you know my name?”

He seems confused, tilting his head, squinting at her like he needs to double-check what he’s seeing. It’s too familiar, it hurts her head - she pulls away, putting the width of the aisle between them. A security guard appears, giving her a quizzical look. “We all good here?” he asks.

“Yeah,” she snaps back, and he doesn’t seem to particularly care too much, wandering back off to his station.

The guy hasn’t moved from the floor, though he’s lifted himself up onto one elbow, and he’s still staring at her.

“You know me?” she grunts out, retrieving her basket of purchases as he gets to his feet, brushing himself down. His shock seems to have worn off but he’s still giving her a look that makes her feel like he knows her, intimately. The throb in her head becomes a burst of pain, and she hisses, pressing the heel of her palm to the middle of her forehead.

“Hey, you okay?” the man asks, concern in his voice, one hand touching her shoulder.

Someone’s laughing at her, a deep, throaty chuckle, but there’s no one there except her and the guy.

“You know me,” she whispers, blinking at him, and this time it’s a statement, to which he nods, visibly swallowing.

“Let’s get you some air,” he murmurs; she stops him with a hand to his chest.

“What’s your name?” she asks.

He smiles, and it’s a fucking gorgeous smile, reaching right to his eyes. “Dean,” he replies.

There’s a thousand images associated with that name, and it’s too much. He’s got her as far as the salsa aisle, and she’s flagging, the pain in her head like a flood, freezing every muscle, constricting her chest. Dean catches her when she falls, cradling her like he would a lover.

Which is exactly what she was, before Michael stripped away two decades of friendship and their final attempt at something real. He’s given it back to her now, but she’s not gonna be able to do anything. It’s a punishment, for not letting him go.

Dean’s begging, crying her name now - there’s a crowd gathering, none of them willing to approach - and she can feel tears in the corners of her eyes. How the hell could she forget him? Dean’s been the center of her universe for so long, she should have known something was wrong.

He’s crying. This punishment wasn’t just for her. The first thing Dean would do is look for her, and Michael’s just reminding him that he’s never going to be free.

She can’t even get the words out for the pain. 

She wasn’t supposed to go like this.

Her chest slows and stops, and Dean cries harder, cupping her cheek as his tears mingle with hers. Someone’s called an ambulance, they’re on their way, he hears it but he doesn’t really hear anything. He tells her he loves her because it might bring her back, he’s managed bigger miracles before, except her skin’s getting cold already and her eyes don’t see anything.

Sam’s there by the time they’re pronouncing time of death, and Dean’s got one of those stupid foil blankets around his shoulders. The EMT tells him it’s shock, and he’s very sorry for his loss; Dean’s quiet, staring at the covered lump of a body where Y/N used to be.

He doesn’t drive home. He lets Sam take care of him. Stays in his room and looks at the picture he found in the pocket of the tux Michael had been wearing. The photo of them, so long ago, when their friendship was the only thing that got him through. Now he feels like he’s got nothing.

Nothing except revenge.

[aphroditestummyrolls]

Tagged by: @rhubarbdreams @cactusdragon517 @morallygreywaren and @ceraunos (I’m so sorry this took so long! Thank you for thinking of me, it is so flattering <3)

Rules: List the first lines of your last 20 stories (if you have less than 20, just list them all!). See if there are any patterns. Choose your favorite opening line. Then tag 10 of your favorite authors!

This was SO FUN. It was so nice to go through my old stories... I’m really proud of my writing. That’s something I never thought I’d say, and it’s something I’ve decided I’m going to do unabashedly from now on. <3 Happy almost April, everyone! 

Gaining Heart (Spartacus) 

The days following the defeat of Glaber had been a flurry of activity.

Agron found himself not only leading on field of battle, but leading organization and defensive strategy. Those fucking Romans had moved into the temple as if it was their own home, claiming all that they saw— but they had also brought much of their own. Food, wine, supplies— it was a gift from the fucking gods, and needed proper inventory.

Agron knew not how to do that. Nasir and Naevia were invaluable, cleaning each chamber of any evidence of battle, cataloguing lists and categorizing everything from barrels of grain to rolls of bandages.

Tangles and Roots (The Old Guard)

He was covering Andy.

The hangar was dark, shadowed by the last of the night while dawn crept up over the skyline outside. The plane was set to land any minute now, and Nicky’s eyes flicked from corner to corner, finger on the trigger of his gun and his jaw grinding hard. He could swear he saw shapes moving along the roof— the banks of high windows above them left eerie patches of weak blue light, flickering with little flashes of darkness.

It was probably just birds. He was out of practice— they had done nothing but sit around in the six months since Merrick, trying to heal the deep wounds left in their minds… and bodies, in Andy’s case.

Nicky swallowed, stepping that much closer to his friend’s side as they took their places in the shadows.

Still Awake? (The Old Guard)

He pretended to sleep. His eyes were closed, and his muscles were stiff, tying themselves into knots where he laid in his cot between Andy’s empty bedroll and Joe and Nicky’s snuggled up bodies. Booker refused to be comfortable— he refused to rest. The day had been rough, and the fighting had left a bone deep ache inside him, even while the physical wounds had healed.

All the Time in the World (The Old Guard) 

The first time Nicolo and Yusuf bathed together, it was by the river— he wasn’t sure which river. It had probably changed names and countries a hundred times by now. All he remembered was that, by the time they heard the steady rush of water and cleared the brush and trees to the bank, he was half mad with annoyance.

If that man made one more grumbled complaint— one more clearly telegraphed grimace— about the supposed smell of him, Nicoló might have to break their truce and run the bastard through.

Kissed by an Angel (The Old Guard)

Nicky felt his lips flicker into a private smile, setting the pot on the stove to simmer and turning to look out the window into the garden. Joe’s garden.

He was humming to himself— Nicky couldn’t quite hear it, but he could tell by the set of the other man’s jaw under his beard and the purse of his lips as he concentrated. The weeds wouldn’t rip themselves, the overgrown shrubs wouldn’t miraculously be already pruned and waiting for them.

They were finally back in Valletta. Finally home.

Patron Saint of Satisfaction (The Old Guard)

It had been a long, long few weeks.

Joe’s shoulders were tense and knotted, and his whole body still ached from the train ride he and Nicky had taken all that day. There was a stifling, choked sensation in his gut that would rise in waves, up his throat to the tip of his tongue until he was ready to scream. The whole way to their safehouse, he brushed shoulders with his lover— practically leaning on him— and let himself take refuge in the feeling of Nicky’s warm hand entwining their fingers.

Waking Dreams (The Old Guard)

At first, they could’ve been anywhere for all Joe knew.

There was nothing in the world but Nicky— his scent, his body, his quiet sleeping breaths. Joe felt himself hover on the edge of sleep and wakefulness, the familiar thrum of pleasure making up the backdrop of his thoughts.

He nuzzled into his Nico’s neck, pressing sloppy, half asleep kisses to the back of his neck.

Here There Be Monsters (The Old Guard) 

The morning had been blustery and hot. The scent of ozone made the sea air thick as it blew through his hair where they all stood, crowded around the lower deck. They all squinted against the bright sunshine, but Joe knew better than to trust the blue sky.

”If I’m getting in, I’ve gotta do it soon—“ he spoke up, cutting into some conversation that he hadn’t been listening to, “There’s a storm coming in from the East.”

Nile— still so young, so far from the American Midwest, and in her first field season— raised an eyebrow at him from behind her sunglasses.

He smiled at her bemused look, shooting his gaze over to Andy. Andy smirked, huffing a laugh. “If anybody knows, Joe knows.”

In Loving Memory (The Old Guard)

The wind whipped up off the water, cold and salty despite the way the sun beat down on them. It was alright, honestly— refreshing after all those stuffy hours in the car.

These immortals were highly resistant to normal modes of transport. Like a plane— a real passenger plane, not a Russian cargo plane full of drugs. It was all cars and boats and trains, low to the ground, literally under the radar.

Nile understood why. She didn’t want to end up strapped down to a lab table like the one they escaped all those months ago. She’d just rather take a nice plane from the closest airport to Provence and get to Valletta in a matter of hours, rather than drive through three countries and all the way down the Italian boot, just to bribe a fishing boat.

Feed My Soul (The Old Guard) 

Malta looked good on Nicolò.

Joe leaned on the railing of their balcony, looking down into their old, old walled garden where his Nico shuffled around in the herbs. He was looking for something particular, the bridge of his nose scrunching as he peered at the mess of overgrown pots.

Joe beamed, the familiar, all-encompassing warmth of loving that man filling him up and making him feel expansive and bright. There was a cathedral ceiling in his chest, airy and golden with the light of dawn through its tall, jeweled windows. There was a house of worship where his heart should be, and he traced the lines of the other man’s body like he was devoting a painting to him.

Sono Qui (The Old Guard)

Andy left Booker on the beach.

She felt his gaze follow her, but couldn’t bring herself to look back.

It wasn’t as if they had never separated before— as if the four of them had been constantly attached from the time they finally found the Frenchman, even after months and months of dreaming and searching. There were plenty of times where they spent months, or sometimes years apart. They took breaks from each other, they traveled. Just a year ago, Andy had declared that she needed a break— was that last year of being alone the thing that led Booker to betray them? Maybe they should’ve stayed together. She never should have left him. She understood how it felt to be alone in the world… to lose someone so precious that life loses its color.

Andy had left Booker plenty of times. It wasn’t something she liked to think about now, but she had… She had assumed he was handling it like her. Somber and drunk, wishing for some type of release. They’d talked about it enough times. But not like this.

Brother of My Heart  (The Old Guard)

Joe clenched his hands on the steering wheel, flexing his fingers to feel the stretch in the tendons, even though any injuries from the fighting had long since healed.

While driving away from the ruins of Merrick’s car, the adrenaline was still rushing in his veins, and all his self control was devoted to staying reasonably within the speed limit. The last thing they needed was to get stopped by some bobby cop while covered in blood and dust, with a bullet through Andy’s stomach.

Right now, they needed to blend in. So, Joe didn’t press the gas pedal into the floor.

Care and Feeding (The Old Guard) 

Nile couldn’t ever remember liking the cold.

Even at home in Chicago. Sure, her memories of warm Christmas masses, bright lights on the tree, and gently falling snow outside the kitchen window made her throat dry with that familiar, wistful grief. She wasn’t sure she’d ever get used to seeing pine trees or twinkle lights without thinking of her mom’s mac n cheese, or how early her brother would wake her up on Christmas morning.

But loving Christmas, and loving snow? Those were two completely different things.

Going Underground (Star Wars) 

Poe wasn’t sure what it was like when they broke through the atmosphere into Yavin IV. He didn’t watch through the Falcon’s wide front window as the familiar jungles passed by in a blur of green underneath them, and he couldn’t pick out the roof of home from the surrounding grasses as they came in for a landing.

The first thing he saw as he came to, bleary and aching, was Finn. They’d fallen asleep right where they were, pressed shoulder to shoulder at the holochess table, Poe’s head on Finn’s shoulder. It took him a sluggish moment to recall why his hand had its own throbbing pulse, and why Finn’s soft, dark skin was pockmarked with strange cuts, glistening with bacta.

The second thing he saw, swallowing against the rush of memories filling his fuzzy mind, must have been a hallucination.

STAR WARS VIII: The Battle of the Force (Star Wars) 

“General, I don’t know how much longer we can hold ‘em off—”

Poe’s voice crackled from the shoddy reception, nearly engulfed by the constant bombardment in the background.

“Commander, the Resistance depends on taking down this dreadnought.” Leia kept her voice steady and strong “Stand your ground.”

Beyond What We Can See (Star Wars) 

If he was being honest with himself, he supposed that he’d been feeling the Force his whole life. He’d always just brushed it off as basic intuition— he thought everybody felt this way. It wasn’t until he started seeing the way the Force was treated in the First Order—as a myth, a fearful, distant thing—that he realized how much he needed to keep his head down. Even though he only felt it in small ways, he was different. He buried the feelings, tried to ignore the nagging dread that said that he didn’t belong there in his platoon. That none of them did.

But that wasn’t something he was allowed to feel. The Force wasn’t supposed to be something any of the troops knew firsthand.

Like She Always Did (Star Wars) 

The first time she left was barely a memory. More of a dream. He didn’t remember the fight they had, but he knew in hindsight that they must’ve had it for much longer than the tail end that he saw. Maybe it was what got his little feet out of bed in the first place. Daddy’s eyes were rimmed with red and Mama was pacing out her anger into the sitting room rug. Poe’s eyes were wide as he watched from the threshold to the hall, his little hand gripping onto the pillow that he’d tugged along with him from his room.

Love Will Help You Heal (Star Wars) 

Every inch of him throbbed, the last dregs of whatever the interrogation droid had injected him with still pumping through his bloodstream. He was so tired. How long had it even been? Getting captured on Jakku felt like a hazy dream, as if it was weeks ago.

No one was coming for him. He knew that much—he’d probably be mad if they endangered the resources to try—but he couldn’t help but wish anyway. Death seemed so close, like a cold hand on his shoulder, by his side in the recirculated air of the Star Destroyer.

He wished they’d just hurry up. His drug-addled, sleep deprived mind didn’t know if he was asking for rescue or death. Maybe they were the same thing now.

Dying a martyr. At least it suited the image—Poe Dameron, Poster Boy of the Resistance.

Ghosts of Future and Past (MCU/Captain America) 

His head was throbbing. His back ached. Everything in him pulsed with agony like he’d been hit by a train.

A train. Bucky.

“Bucky is alive.” 

He could feel the winter cold at the memory, his eyes snapping open as the past few moments came flooding back to him.

There had been another Steve. Even without the mask, he’d looked just like him. It must have been Loki playing tricks again, it had to be.

Sweet as Honey, Gold Like the Sun (Stranger Things) 

Steve was drifting after high school graduation. He drifted right out of the halls of Hawkins High and into a desk job at his dad’s office. If he was being honest, he’d been drifting since the Gate closed— maybe even since Nancy broke it off.

He wasn’t mad. She was his best friend. He and Jonathan were even friends now. No, he hadn’t been mad for a long time— but he was lost. The kids were going to high school. Dustin would be getting his license one of these days, and Steve’s last function to his little gaggle of brats would become all but useless.

The idea of not serving a purpose left the bitter tang of anxiety in his throat. Once the kids didn’t need him— and Joyce and Hopper and even Nancy— Steve would be left behind. Again.

Okay... Some of these may have been more than just what is considered “Opening Lines”, but I can’t just leave something feeling unfinished, and I’m a little tipsy, which means I am bending the rules <3

**EDIT** i forgot to look for patterns and pick my favorite! I mean, I think all storytelling/creative expression (anything from developing a recipe to composing a painting to writing a story) follows a distinct formula. And the best way to establish the story is by starting it with the most important element front and center— I almost always start with my main character. A thought or a feeling, a situation or a sensation. They’re the focal point from which everything ripples out. Those first ripples (the 2nd, 3rd or 4th lines) are usually about building the setting. It’s an equation that works so well for me, and though I sometimes shake it up by adding immediate dialogue or flipping the positions of setting and main character, it has served me well ❤️ i think my favorite has to be Brother of My Heart. It’s the first really, immediately big story Ive ever had. So many comments, so much warmth, so many kind people— it grew my confidence and helped me make friends. It reminds me of how truly wonderful fandom can be, even just with the first few lines.

I’m going to continue to bend the rules by not tagging anyone immediately-- it’s giving me weird anxiety levels, so I’m gonna wait and do it later maybe. If, in the meantime, you see this and want to do it, write me down as the one who tagged you! <3 Feel frrrreeeeeeee! 

[sharky857]

Smells like Warframe (locations)

Some time ago I was writing a fic (which is done, but also so... idiotic. I don’t think I’ll be posting it any time soon :°D); while I was at it, I started to have this idea of how each location would smell like.

- Anything Grineer:

Mostly smelling of ye olde repair workshop (motor oil, singed metal, etc...).

There might also be a hint of body odor; in case there are Nox roaming around, one might also catch a whiff similar to rotten eggs nearby them (which would definitely increase when the huge visor glass is shattered).

There might be also a whiff of "feral" or dirty animal cage if there are Hyekka and/or Drahk Masters with their respective companions.

Despite the past terraforming process, Uranus might also have a faint scent of methane, but only when outiside. Once inside the Sea Labs, this smell would be gone.

Open areas (like the Earth nodes) would smell like repair workshop + stagnant & polluted water.

- Corpus Galore:

Smells like an operating room that's just been sterilised, along with a mix of "new car smell" and that weird ozone-like scent (the one you could catch on people who's just come back indoors, after being outside for a few hours in a cold day).

Jupiter's Gas Cities would also always have that mild ammonia smell, there would be no escape from that.

- Infested infestations:

Decomposing/Rotting/Decaying flesh, with a mix of rotten eggs and a sprinkle of mould/fungus underneath (because spores). A pungent, metallic scent (very reminescent of blood) is absolutely everywhere.

Especially in confined spaces like the abandoned ships (where air filtering is not really working anymore as it should, for obvious reasons) everything might also be so strong/persistent that it could make one crave for that space vacuum.

HONOURABLE MENTIONS!

- Plains of Eidolon / Cetus:

Smells like ye olde "seaside with seaside flora" with a lot of fish smell (mostly good, at times bad). There would be also some whiff of blood nearby the Unum tower area, and the finest noses would still detect it even while roaming the market area closer to that side of Cetus, but usually it would be all bearable thanks to a mild and constant sea breeze.

Cetus would smell a lot, most of the scents would be coming from the market area. Usually it's smell of: wild animals, fish meat and entrails, cooked meat, and herbs & spices.

Nearby the gate leading to the plains all this would be mixed with a familiar scent of "motor oil & singed metal", given who keeps roaming that place. From time to time a disgusting smell of rotten flesh and blood would tag along; that's when everyone knows that Ghouls are (once again) "in da haus".

- Orb Vallis / Fortuna:

Overall, Fortuna would actually smell more like "Anything Grineer" than "Corpus Galore".

There could be also a very faint trace of "wilderness" due to the presence of some Venusian wildlife in the good cares of Biz, but this latter scent would be detectable only when in close proximity of Biz' "shop".

Orb Vallis smells like "ITS FRIKIN WIMDY + cold winter day with very crisp air". One might or might not detect also a whiff of mushrooms when the wind blows just right. There could also be a whiff of wildlife, mostly detectable nearby cave entrances and/or mountain sides, where the wind would be less strong.

Overall, all Corpus operational bases would have the same smell of sterilised operating room + ozone.

- Cambion Drift / Necralisk:

Rotten flesh, mould and blood everywhere. There really is no escape, not even inside the Necralisk nor one of the Isolation Vaults. Inside those other spaces the smell may be weaker, but still present nonetheless.

All this might also be combined with a generic smell that would be best described as "clogged septic tank/sewer". Nearby anything that would technically count as a body of water, there could be a scent of bad infection (yes: pus) thrown in the mix. Thankfully at least these latter scents would be only exclusive to Cambion Drift, so everyone inside the Necralisk would be still spared.

[arts-rock]

The History of the World I guess is below this cut. And I wrote it myself.

(1)

Hi. You’re on a rock, floating in space.

Pretty cool huh?

Some of it’s water :)

fuck it.

Actually most of it’s water :D

I can’t even get from 🇺🇸here to 🇩🇪there without buying a boat

It’s sad :(

I’m sad :(

I miss you.

How did this happen?

A long time ago-

actually never.

and also now.

Nothing was nowhere. When? Never.

Makes sense right?

Like I said, never happened.

Nothing was never anywhere.

That’s why it’s been *everywhere*

It’s been so everywhere you don’t even need a where. you don’t even need a when.

✨That’s how every it gets.✨

Screw this.

I wanna be something

Go somewhere.

Do something.

I want things to change.

I want to invent time and space.

And I know it’s possible, because everything’s already here. I just don’t know when to start...

And that’s exactly how it started.

*space noises*

Wait- I think I paused it.

I think there’s a universe now.

“What’s it made of?”

✨Quarks and stuff✨

Ah that’s a thing™️

In a place™️

Don’t like it?

Try a new place.

At a different time.

Try to stick together.

Cause the universe is gonna get bigger. And emptier.

But it’s not empty yet!

It’s still very full, and about a bajillion degrees.

Great news! The quarks are now happily married in groups of three, called a proton(+) or a neutron(=)

And there’s another thing trying to get in but it can’t cause it’s too- H̵̎͛O̴̽͘T̸̨̅

Great news!

The protons and neutrons are now happily married to eachother! :) (some of them even doubled up)

Great news! The electrons(-) have joined in-

-Congratulations! The world is now

A bunch of gas in space.

But it’s getting closer together.

and it’s getting closer together

and it’s getting closer t-

💥

It’s a 𝓢𝓽𝓪𝓻

New shit just got made.

Some stars burn out and die.

Other stars burn out and die with ✨passion✨

And makes some brand new, way crazier, shit.

Space dust!

which allows newer, more interesting stars to be made, and die, and turn into

Even ✨crazier✨ space dust!

So now stars have cool stuff around them

Like rocks, and ice, and funny little clouds, which can make some very interesting things.

Like this flaming ball of rocks for example(“earth”)

☄️!

Holy shit, we just got hit with another ball of flaming rocks

And it kinda made a mess... which is-

𝒩𝑜𝓌 𝓉𝒽𝑒 ✨𝓂𝑜𝑜𝓃✨

Weather update: it’s raining rocks from outer space

Weather update: those rocks may have had water inside them and now there’s hot steam in the sky

Weather update: cooler temperatures today and the floor is no longer lava 👍

Weather update:

It’s raining. 🌧

Volcano alert!

✨That’s land!✨

ᵀʰᵉʳᵉ’ˢ ˢᵒᵐᵉᵗʰᶦⁿᵍ ᶦⁿ ᵗʰᵉ ᵒᶜᵉᵃⁿ

What?

Something’s alive in the ocean

Oh cool, like a... plant or an animal?

No! 😃

A microscopic spec

It lives at the bottom of the ocean and eats chemical soup!

Which was left over from when it was raining rocks or whatever

*shoom, splits apart*

oh yeah, and it can do that

*shoom shoom shoom*

It has secret instructions inside of itself that teaches it how to make another one of itself, which is pretty nifty I would say :)

Tired of living at the bottom of the ocean?

✨Now you can eat sunlight!✨

Using a revolutionary technique(photosynthesis) you can turn sunlight into food.

Taste the 𝓢𝓾𝓷

Side affect,

now there’s oxygen everywhere and the sky is blue

Then the earth might’ve been a snowball for a while-

Maybe even a couple of times-

It’s a sponge, it’s a plant!

It’s a worm and some other types of weird strange water bugs and strange fish!

It’s the ✨𝒞𝒶𝓂𝒷𝓇𝒾𝒶𝓃 𝑒𝓍𝓅𝓁𝑜𝓈𝒾𝑜𝓃 ✨

“Wow that’s animals and stuff.”

But we’re still in the ocean, hey can we go on land?

No.

Why?

The sun is a deadly laser.

Oh okay. :(

✨Not anymore, there’s a blanket!(Ozone)✨

Now we can go on land!

Cmon animals, let’s go on land! :D

“Nope, can’t walk yet. :/“

“Also there’s no food yet, so I don’t care. >:/“

Okay will you learn to walk if there’s plants up here?

“Maybe” said some bugs, and fish

*fish being unable to get on land*

okay so I can go on land but I gotta go in the water to ✨have babies✨

💡!

Learn to use an egg.

“I was already doing that :(“

Use a stronger egg. Put water in the egg.

Have a baby on land.

Water is in the egg. Baby, in the egg, in the water. In the egg.

Works for me.

𝐵𝓎𝑒 𝒷𝓎𝑒 𝑜𝒸𝑒𝒶𝓃

...and now everything’s huge.

Including bugs.

Wanna see a map of the land?

Sure.

☄️

Ah fuck, now everything is dead >:(

Just kidding! Here are the survivors!(Thrinraxodon, lystrosaurus, proterosuchus)

Keep an eye on this one(proterosuchus) cause it’s about to become the dinosaurs 🦖

Here’s another map of the land

Yeah it broke apart don’t worry about it, it does that all the time :)

Here comes a meteor

💥

And the dinosaurs are gone :(

It’s mammal time, here come the mammals :)

Look at those “breasts”

Now they’re gonna dominate the world and one of them just learned to grab stuff-

and walk :0

no like, walk like that(🚶<- 🦍)

And grab stuff at the same time :O

And bang rocks together to make-

Pointed rocks(ouch)

And set things on fire(yeowch)

And make crazy sounds with their voice(gneursk), which can mean different things.

✨That’s a 𝒽𝓊𝓂𝒶𝓃 𝓅𝑒𝓇𝓈𝑜𝓃✨

And now they’re everywhere..

Well, almost everywhere.

Ice age!

“What? We can walk over here now? Cool.”

Not anymore.

“Well I guess we’re stuck here now.”