#like pass down to generations durable

[rotationalsymmetry]

I realize this is kind of a swimming upstream opinion on tumblr, but I think "lighter but less durable" is actually a reasonable trade off for things like bookcases and sewing machines.

People move a lot, and also increasingly adult children live in smaller homes than their parents and don't have room to accept big things that are passed down. Something that's cheap and takes relatively get-able components to make and is going to be easy to take somewhere else...given the world is the way it is, that's better.

Specifically people complain about particle board a lot, and I get it, but I also have a writing desk from my grandparents that's solid wood and never gets used because it's heavy and the doors stick and it's just...awkward. It was made for a different generation with different needs. And the next generation might have different needs yet. Probably will, actually. We don't live in a time where it makes sense to buy furniture that's still going to be in good shape when your great grandchildren will hit adulthood.

And particleboard is basically made from industrial byproducts. It's cheap because it involves cutting down fewer trees to get it.

And yeah second hand stores and all. But space is more expensive than stuff in a lot of places.

[ghulehunknown]

Clergy Headcanons - Proposals!

Rated G - Purely fluff! Gender neutral reader

How I think the head members of the Clergy would propose to you 😌

(inspired by Älva’s Papa engagement ring post!)

Primo

Very romantic

He asked a parental figure/someone important in your life for your hand (well, at least told your loved one(s) beforehand to give a semblance of traditionality)

Plans a picnic with all your favorite foods, and he brought your favorite roses and other pretty flowers from his garden. He actually secretly grew a special engagement bouquet just for you!

He doesn’t get down on one knee because of his arthritis, but proposes while you’re both sitting down

The ring is very traditional and likely passed down for generations in his family. He’s been waiting a whole lifetime to give it to you 🥺

Secondo

Whatever he has planned, it’s completely with your personality in mind - whether you are more inclined for something quiet or a something with a little more opulence

But it’s probably something a little more lowkey, like after a lovely dinner that he cooks for you. He may not be one for grand gestures but he does know how to make you feel very special

He has a very romantic, although not super long, speech before he gets down on one knee and hands you the most wonderful ring you’ve ever seen

The ring is beautiful, but dark - much like him. It’s probably got some black star sapphires in it or something, and the band is made from tungsten or titanium because it’s durable and lasting like his love for you

Terzo

He…may or may not have proposed impulsively one evening after a date because he got excited…then remembered he’s Terzo and vows to do better with a surprise later. (Eloping isn’t out of the question for him)

He plans a grand day out doing all your favorite activities before coming back to the Ministry which is decorated to the max and all your loved ones are there in attendance

He gets down on one knee and gives an elaborate, moving speech and promises you the world

The ring is GORGEOUS and extravagant and must’ve cost a fortune. But your love is priceless, so a silly little price tag doesn’t stop him (don’t worry, he paid full price and didn’t use the Papa discount; he makes sure you know that)

He definitely planned a flashmob for you with Siblings and Ghouls dressed in tuxedos and wedding dresses, but waves them off after he sees how overcome with emotion you are

Can’t wait for you to see the second part…alone in his room, because you have to “christen the engagement”

Copia

Oh god he’s nervous AF, he’s sweating and stumbling. He doesn’t want to mess this up because he’s been planning it for a long time. He knew you were the one the day he met you

He takes you back to the spot you had your first date. You can tell something is up because he’s acting a little funny

He definitely messes up his little speech he has prepared but he says something like: “You will never walk alone”

He’s so, so sweet and everything is perfect no matter how nervous you both are 🥺

He gets down on one knee and everything and you feel like the most special person in the world, because to him you are

He gives you a traditional, but absolutely beautiful ring. It’s probably got diamonds or your birthstone in it. He’s not a fully traditional man, but for things as important as this he doesn’t want to miss a beat

He’s ready to start planning the wedding!

Nihil

“Here,” and hands you the ring

He probably proposes immediately after you have an argument in attempt to makeup and show you he still wants you

The ring is simple, but durable. It’s probably solid gold, because to him you’re golden

Afterwards he takes you out to your favorite restaurant then a drive in movie (it reminds him of the good ol’ days)

Sister Imperator (bonus round!)

Very methodical and planned to a T

Lots of beautiful decorations

The speech is simple and to the point, as she often is, so there’s really no way to get lost in flowery language. You know what she wants, and it’s you and her forever

“We would be good together, don’t you think?” she’d say with her all-knowing smirk

She hands you a sturdy stainless steel ring and got herself one to match

[kayakima]

Headcanon list: how the 104th cadets are when they’re drunk (bonus Porco and Pieck)

Eren: Exclusively shotguns Twisted Teas. Could go either way between the one itching to fight anyone and everyone (especially Jean) or the one that ends up getting really emotional and crying in the bathroom. Sometimes he’s both. Wants to take his keys and start driving and has to be stopped by multiple people.

Armin: THE karaoke king. He’s awful, too. Nobody butchers ABBA quite like him and there’s probably 10+ blackmail videos shared between JCS that they hold over his head whenever they need him to do a favor. Annie gets really flustered watching him but everyone knows she loves seeing him have so much fun. Sasha joins in at some point.

Mikasa: Can down seven grapefruit White Claws and you’d never be able to tell she was drunk. Cleans up Sasha after she pukes and then makes sure Eren’s sleeping on his side after he finally passes out so if he pukes in his sleep he doesn’t choke. Stands in the corner watching and is generally very pleasant and active with everyone. Brings her own snacks but happily shares with Annie. Takes videos of Sasha and Pieck playing pranks to post online.

Ymir: Hogs a bottle of Crown Royal and gets really touchy with Historia later. Winds up taking her to the couch in the corner and they’re that couple that everyone ends up steering clear of out of a fear of interrupting because they’re making out and are really bad at being discreet about it

Historia: Chugs Pink Whitney like it’s nobody’s business. Is initially hesitant about going to the corner with Ymir because she wants to socialize but once she does she will not leave unless the house is burning down. Wears NASTY white air forces that are her go-to party shoes.

Reiner: Pretends to like Casamigos because he thinks it looks nonchalant but discretely steals all the Jell-O shots and takes them in the bathroom so nobody sees him. Everyone thinks he’s doing coke and he’s forced to admit to the Jell-O shots when Connie notices they’re all missing after an hour. Plays King’s Cup with Porco and cries with joy when he wins.

Annie: STRAWBERITAS!!!!!!! Similar to Mikasa in that she pretends to not be drunk but is a lot worse at hiding it. Surprisingly gets really huggy when she’s drunk and when she’s not watching Armin sing she’s clinging onto Pieck like a baby koala. Compliments everyone in really awkward ways (“Mikasa, you and I use the same fabric softener, I can smell it.”)

Bertoldt: Quiet drunk until that Deep Eddy’s lemon hits his bloodstream and then suddenly he’s “freestyle” dancing. Everyone considers it a hazard because he’s swinging his arms and legs around not knowing he’s hitting people on accident. Accidentally raids Connie’s room and eats his “special” brownies and then greens out.

Marco: Brings his own homemade raspberry lemonade. He’s happy to be involved but generally wants to make sure everyone’s safe and gets home alright. Puts half a shooter of Tito’s in it and freaks out because he’s scared he’s gonna fail a breathalyzer now. Brings a Polaroid camera to take pictures (mostly of Jean). Calls an uber for Sasha and goes home with her to make sure she doesn’t puke in the uber.

Jean: Jack Daniel’s is like water to him. That one guy that has the durability of a toddler and will jump off the roof onto a table to break it and somehow walks away with no injuries and no memory. LOVES to beat Porco at beerpong and asks Pieck if she saw him throw the winning shot. Always suggests going swimming. “Punch me in the face Eren, I swear I won’t feel it!”

Connie: ACTUALLY likes Casamigos. Gets so drunk he starts yelling at people in Spanish and nobody even knew he could speak Spanish, not even himself. Made Jell-O shots for Sasha. Somehow knows and has official setups for every possible drinking game in existence. Hosted the party and refuses to let anyone change the playlist that’s like 90% fetty wap.

Sasha: Green Apple Smirnoff. A Taco Bell cravings box HATES to see her coming. Ends up throwing up on Jean. Raids the fridge and pantry with Pieck. Takes videos of EVERYTHING because she knows she’ll forget what happened if she doesn’t.

Bonus Pieck and Porco

Pieck: Mixes the jungle juice and puts a fuckload of Beefeater gin in it. Dances for a bit with Benzodiazepine and can throw ass but chooses not to because “I only do that in the club”. Double checks to see if Jean is actually hurt after he jumps off the roof. LOVES to see Jean and Porco fight over her but doesn’t go home with either of them. Takes all of Connie’s cups out of the cabinet and then fills them with water before putting them back in the cabinet.

Porco: Watermelon Four Loko is to him like bread is to butter. REALLY sore loser when Jean beats him at beerpong and Reiner beats him at King’s Cup. Yells at everyone to talk to them even if he’s two feet away. Gives Pieck his jacket and Jean gets really jealous. Willing to get into a fight with Eren and actually does start kicking his ass until the fight is broken up.

Lmk if you want a part 2 lmao

[arecaceae175]

Skyloft and Embroidery

I’m having so many feelings about the embroidery on Sky’s and Sun’s shirts in @linkeduniverse Entrance Pt. 3

His shirt is actually so beautiful . The more I’m staring at the picture the more I am appreciating the complex embroidery on it.

Throughout history, embroidery has had lots of different meanings. Women gathered and embroidered together and had time to speak with each other away from other pressures, and embroidery became the medium for powerful social movements. It was used in many cultures to wave stories into fabric that could withstand the flow of time. Elsewhere, embroidery symbolized wealth and status with intricate designs. And for some, and more often today, it’s just really really pretty.

I think Skyloft would lean toward embroidery as a method of storytelling and passing down legends. The outside of the Skyloft bazaar is so vibrantly colored, so colors and beauty are clearly important to the people.

The Bazaar, which is one of Skyloft's cultural hubs, is made of fabric and you can see the designs on even such large, durable fabrics. I can imagine Skyloft houses being covered in rugs and tapestries adorning the walls, telling the stories of the family who lives there and ensuring their history is passed down to the next generation.

Not only the big events of history, but the small, personal stories important to individuals and families. The big events and the history of the society would be held in places like the bazaar or the academy or with the goddess statue. But in a household, their tapestries might show the story of two people falling in love, of siblings who protect and love each other, of the largest pumpkin ever grown. Those things are the stories the families would smile and laugh about while sitting together over a meal.

The embroidery on clothing could represent a person’s attributes and dreams, or aspects of their personality they want to share with the world.

Image from @linkeduniverse Entrance Pt. 3

The embroidery designs on Sky’s shirt are light blue like the sky itself and red like his loftwing. There is green to ground him to the earth of his home when he feels the urge to fly forever. The blue is whispy and less distinctly patterned than Zelda’s, showcasing his head in the clouds personality and love for flying.

Zelda’s blue is a more regal shade combined with the gold. The shapes are well defined and confident, just like she is.

[adragonsfriend]

none of this clones painting their armor in mandalorian traditions thing. clones actively annoyed at people expecting them to paint their armor like mandalorians. mandalorians actively horrified at whatever the clones are doing with that paint and their beliefs about armor in general. full on stuttering unable to react to these blaspheming people, like a stereotype of a grandmotger hearing the grandkids curse. clones who are like 'yeah I lost my bracer I painted elaborately last week. it was cracked from those bombs on geonosis anyway. now i can request a new one without the brass getting persnickety. soon as it gets here I got a new art project'

In all seriousness though, the difference in durability between plastoid and durasteel/beskar would I think create very different cultures surrounding care and reverence for armor. Like the difference between handkerchiefs and tissues.

People would buy/make handkerchiefs as gifts, they could be embroidered nicely, even passed down families.

Are tissues very useful? Of course. Have I drawn some sick doodles on tissues? Absolutely. Did I still throw those tissues in the trash? Yes.

[literaryvein-reblogs]

Hello! Currently im working on my story and I need to write my character Fainting/falling unconscious and I need help with writing that. General things I would like to know is how long would someone be out cold in which situations and what are some aftermaths. You can (and please do) add extra info. I dont see alot of posts covering this topic so I would request this :>

Hi! I have these previous posts: On Fainting ⚜ Some Reactions

Some Additional Notes

Faintness

‘Light- headedness’.

Seen in anaemia, low BP, postural hypotension, hypoglycaemia, carotid sinus hypersensitivity, epilepsy

Syncope

This is sudden loss of consciousness over seconds.

Another word for fainting or passing out.

Think of abnormal ‘electrical’ activity in the central nervous system or a temporary drop in cardiac output and BP that improves as soon as the patient is in a prone position.

Fits can occur due to a profound fall in BP so they are not specific of epilepsy.

Someone is considered to have syncope if they become unconscious and go limp, then soon recover.

For most people, syncope occurs once in a great while, if ever, and is not a sign of serious illness.

However in others, syncope can be the first and only warning sign prior to an episode of sudden cardiac death.

Syncope can also lead to serious injury.

Talk to your physician if syncope happens more often.

Pre-syncope - is the feeling that you are about to faint.

Someone with pre-syncope may be:

lightheaded (dizzy) or nauseated,

have a visual "gray out" or trouble hearing,

have palpitations, or

feel weak or suddenly sweaty.

When discussing syncope with your doctor, you should note episodes of pre-syncope as well.

Becoming unconscious due to a seizure, heart attack, head injury, stroke, intoxication, blow to the head, diabetic hypoglycemia or other emergency condition is not considered syncope.

WHAT TO DO

Someone who faints should be moved so they are lying down to allow blood to flow to the brain.

If they do not regain consciousness promptly, start CPR.

Reflex syncope - the result of a reflex response to some trigger, in which the heart slows or blood vessels dilate (widen).

This causes blood pressure to drop, so less blood flows to the brain and fainting (syncope) or near-fainting (pre-syncope) occurs.

Reflex syncope is the most frequent cause of fainting.

Vasovagal syncope — the common faint — occurs in one third of the population.

It is by far the most common form of reflex syncope.

Often triggered by a combination of dehydration and upright posture.

But it can also have an emotional trigger such as seeing blood ("fainting at the sight of blood").

Some Vasovagal Syncope Triggers

Seeing blood (not considered a serious symptom)

Getting an injection or having blood drawn (not considered serious)

Standing up quickly (a "head rush" is considered pre-syncope)

Standing upright for a long time

Sudden and unexpected trauma, stress or pain, such as being hit

Blood donation

Other types of reflex syncope include:

Situational syncope - a sudden reflex response to a trigger other than those listed above. Triggers include:

Coughing, sneezing, laughing, swallowing

Pressure on the chest after exertion or exercise

Defecating

Urinating (post-micturition syncope: occurs in men while standing to urinate)

Eating a meal

Sudden abdominal pain

Blowing a brass instrument or lifting weights

Carotid Sinus Syncope - a response in older adults that occurs when pressure is applied to the carotid artery in the neck. A hard twist of the neck, wearing a tight collar and pressing on the artery are triggers for carotid sinus syncope.

How is syncope treated? The treatment for syncope will depend upon the underlying condition but may include:

Catheter ablation: procedure to cauterize the specific heart cells that cause abnormal heart rhythms

Pacemakers: device inserted under the skin below the collarbone to deliver regular electrical pulses through thin, highly durable wires attached to the heart; used to treat bradycardia, heart block and some types of heart failure

Implantable cardioverter-defibrillators (ICDs): a small implanted device that delivers an electrical pulse to the heart to reset a dangerously irregular heartbeat; often used to treat ventricular tachycardia or heart failure

Avoiding known triggers

Vasovagal Attack

Simple faint precipated by emotion, pain, fear, prolonged standing, etc.

Suggested by: syncope within seconds or minutes of preceding precipitant.

Nausea,

sweating, and

darkening of vision.

Recovery within minutes.

No incontinence.

Confirmed by: history. No abnormal physical signs.

Finalized by: the predictable outcome of management, e.g. reassurance and advice regarding avoidance of preciptating causes.

Cough Syncope

Suggested by: sudden loss of consciousness after severe bout of coughing.

Confirmed by: history. Normal examination.

Finalized by: the predictable outcome of management, e.g. treating cause of cough.

Panic Disorder

Suggested by: Intense feeling of apprehension or impending disaster.

Developing quickly and unexpectedly without a recognizable trigger.

Shortness of breath and

sensation of smothering, nausea, abdominal pain, depersonalization and derealization,

choking,

numbness,

tingling,

palpitations,

flushes,

trembling,

shaking, chest discomfort,

fear of dying,

sweating,

dizziness,

faintness.

Confirmed by: recognized criteria, e.g. the ICD.

Finalized by: the predictable outcome of management, e.g. reassurance about nature of symptoms, cognitive behaviour therapy, anxiolytics (e.g. diazepam), or antidepressants (e.g. SSRIs).

Sources: 1 2 3 ⚜ More: Notes & References ⚜ On Hemophobia

Hope this helps with your writing!

[libraryofgage]

A Place Like Steve in a Boy Like This

Part of: Steve Deserves Good Parents, Actually

Debbie and Fester Addams One | Two | Three | Four Rick and Evelyn O'Connell One | Two | Three (you’re here!) Harley Quinn One 10th Doctor and Rose One | Two (on the way!) Scooby Gang (there are plans for this one lmao, so plz be patient with me orz) Jedidiah and Octavius (from Night at the Museum) One Queen Clarisse (also on the way and also a modern royalty au cuz I got the urge to write one so bad lmao)

This AU was line-jumped on Ko-Fi, which means y'all got it sooner!

If you want to line jump your favorite series, you can learn more here

I hope y'all enjoy this part! It was a lotta fun to write, actually, since I got to talk about folklore I'm more familiar with lol

As always, if you see any typos, no you didn't ;)

----

Steve huffs as he kicks a pebble down the street. It bounces a few times before settling on the sidewalk, doing nothing interesting enough to alleviate his boredom. He turns around, squinting against the sun shining in his eyes, and looks at his parents. His mother is speaking quietly to a woman with a shawl around her shoulders, both of them bent over some book that definitely should have been crumbling by now. His father idly taps at bricks on the building next to them, looking relaxed but alert.

Steve glances at the building his parents are avoiding, the one the woman with the shawl walked out of. It’s a pale, faded yellow, the kind that tells him the building is old, old enough to have seen wars and generations pass it by. Shingles line a low roof, but something that’s either incredibly durable wood or stone so old it’s turned brown makes up the vaguely mountain-shaped top that reaches to the sky. Steve studies the building, his eyes wandering until he sees the door cracked open on the side. 

He takes a slow step towards it, checks that neither of his parents noticed, and takes another. This continues until he’s in the shadow of the building, his fingers brushing against the wood. It’s cool against his skin, and the door isn’t nearly as heavy as it looks. He pushes lightly against it, an eager feeling building in the pit of his stomach as he slips inside.

A dimly lit hall made of stone sprawls out in front of him, and Steve hums softly as he passes by the paintings and scraps of scroll that are framed along the wall. He recognizes Hebrew on all the scrolls, but he doesn’t linger long enough to read any of it. Instead, he continues to walk, glancing through an opening that leads into a sanctuary. The opening is to the left of the bema, and he’s momentarily caught by the ark that contains the Torah. He can’t even see the holy scrolls, but something in his spine jerks and he’s overwhelmed by the urge to open the doors so he can gaze upon them. 

He’s already going to get in trouble for slipping inside, though. Maybe he shouldn’t make it worse. Steve grasps this thought tightly, holding it in his mind until he’s able to tear his gaze away and continue walking down the hall. Other than that opening, there’s only one door left at the very end. It, too, is made of wood and opens far easier than Steve expected.

Shafts of sunlight stream in through narrow windows, illuminating dust that floats in the still air of an undisturbed staircase. Steve looks down at the first steps, crouches, and drags his finger carefully over the stone. A layer of dust comes off, and Steve comes to the conclusion that nobody has been up these stairs in a long, long time. 

With a grin, Steve begins to climb. 

The stairs wind up and up, far higher than Steve thinks should be possible given the height of the building itself, but what does he know? He just focuses on climbing, on reaching the top as he passes narrow window after narrow window, breathing in stale air that stirs in his lungs and builds. Strangely enough, he’s not breathless from the climbing, but from something else entirely. He isn’t able to name that feeling until he finally (finally) reaches the top of the stairs. 

As he stands on the top step and looks over the loft spread out before him, he realizes it was anticipation. Like the stairs, this attic-loft is covered in dust, untouched by people for a very long time. A large window is opposite the stairs, allowing sunlight to stream into the area. The space holds a desk, a bed, more books than Steve has ever seen before, and a statue.

Steve stares at the statue, licks his lips nervously, and steps into the room. He doesn’t spare the books or anything else a second glance, instead making a beeline for the statue. It’s huge, towering over the twelve-years-old Steve even though it’s sitting. Its legs are crossed, and its hands are held palm-up just above its navel. The statue is round and smooth, not a straight edge in sight. It doesn’t have a neck, and its head is like a little bump on its shoulders, just big enough to hold triangle-shaped divots for eyes. Carefully placed next to the statue is a small clay jar and a paintbrush.

Without thinking, Steve picks up the jar and looks inside. Golden-hued paint shimmers inside, and Steve wonders how it hasn’t caked over or disintegrated after all this time. He tilts the clay pot a few times, watching the paint slide against the edges, and then looks up at the statue again. At second glance, he sees that the statue’s head is big enough for more than just its eyes. He could probably write on it, too. 

With that thought, Steve grabs the paintbrush and very carefully pokes his foot against the statue’s leg. It seems strong enough, so he climbs up, following the statue’s calf to its knee. From there, he carefully holds the paintbrush with his teeth so he can steady himself on the statue’s arm. Once he has, Steve pulls himself up onto the statue’s hands, finding himself at the perfect height to reach its forehead.

Steve holds the paintbrush and dips it into the jar. The brush comes out covered in the gold paint, and Steve pauses, looking at the statue’s forehead.

He remembers a story his mother once told him about this very city, this very building. It involved a statue like this one, a golem, that was brought to life to protect his mom’s ancestors. Steve hums softly and carefully paints aleph, mem, tav on the statue’s forehead. His mom will find it funny when he brings her up here to show her the “golem” he found. 

As he finishes off the tav, giving it a pretty little flourish just for the fun of it, the ground beneath him jerks. No, not the ground. The hands he’s standing on. Steve yelps, losing his balance and about to fall only to be cradled and carefully set on the ground.

Steve blinks, looking up at the golem to see it leaning down and staring at him expectantly. “Uh. Hi,” he says, breathless as he receives a small nod and wave in return. “Holy shit.”

Before he can say more, he hears a familiar voice in the distance shouting, “Steve! Where are you?”

Keeping his eyes on the golem, Steve sets the jar and paint down, scooting back along the floor until he reaches the top of the stairs. “I’m up here!” he shouts, hearing a muffled curse and the slam of a door far below. He sighs and stands, slowly approaching the golem.

“You’re really real,” he mumbles, stopping in front of the golem as he hears someone running up the steps.

He turns just in time to see his father reach the attic, guns at the ready, and panting from adrenaline and the climb. “What the fuck is that?!” he shouts, aiming the guns at the golem without thinking. 

“Don’t shoot it!” Steve yells, barely getting the words out before he’s scooped into the golem’s arms and completely covered by its hands. The world goes dark, and he’s pressed close enough to the golem’s chest that all he can smell is pomegranate and the old ink and paper of Talmud studies. 

“It’s holding you captive, and you’re telling me not to shoot it?!” his father asks. 

“It’s protecting him!” his mother shouts, her voice shrill and panicked enough about his father shooting a golem to make Steve almost laugh.

Steve wiggles around, tapping the golem’s chest. “Those are my parents,” he says, “Please let me down.”

After a few seconds of hesitation, the golem does, carefully and slowly placing Steve on his feet once more. Its hands stay on either side of him, looking ready to pull him back into its protective embrace. His father looks harried, but his mother looks awed as she steps forward. The golem allows her to approach, and she carefully runs her fingers over the golem’s arms. “This is amazing, Steve,” she says softly.

“Can we please step away from the dangerous statue now?” his father asks, taking a step forward only to stop when the golem suddenly stands and towers over him. “Uh, what’s it doing?”

“You’re not Jewish, Rick,” Steve’s mother says, looking over her shoulder. “The golem is a protective figure in Jewish folklore, among other things. It’s most famous stories are about keeping Jewish towns safe from pogroms. It’s wary of you.”

“I’m your husband!” Steve’s father protests, angrily shoving his guns back into their holsters, “And Steve’s father! We should be on the same team!”

“It’s okay,” Steve says, walking over to his father and taking his hand. “I just have to introduce you.” With that, Steve leads his father over to the golem, placing his father’s hand on its arm, and saying, “This is someone you should protect, too.”

----------

After explaining everything, with plenty of interruptions from the kids after they came running back into the living room to escape Uncle Jonathan’s gin, Steve’s parents demanded to see the lab where it all started. 

And now they’re here, standing in one of the lower levels, surrounded by dead vines that still haunt Steve’s nightmares on particularly bad nights. If he’s lucky, he won’t have one of those while his parents are home, but Steve has never really called himself lucky in situations that don’t involve life or death. 

The wall that once held a gate to the Upside Down is nothing more than charred cement, reduced to a jagged line of something Steve really hopes is soot and not, like, disintegrated demogorgon. He carefully makes his way through the vines, avoiding them when he can and holding his breath whenever he has to step on one. 

“Did you know this was a lab?” Rick asks, his voice echoing in the hall ahead of them. 

“Of course, not,” Evelyn replies, and Steve can picture the glare she’s aiming at him. “I wouldn’t have let our son live here if I’d known.”

“Well,” Eddie says, “I, for one, and very relieved Stevie lived here considering several of us would be dead without him.”

“Me, too,” Dustin says.

“Me three,” El says.

“I think Steve and I would’ve found each other even if he wasn’t in Hawkins,” Robin says, nudging Steve’s ribs with her elbow as she grins. “Platonic soulmates can’t he kept apart.”

Steve snorts and stops when he reaches the wall. He looks around and notices the corpse of a demodog a few feet away. Or, well, he thinks it’s a demodog corpse. “Stay here,” he says, tightening his grip on his bat as he takes a step closer to it.

“Hold it right there, young man,” his mother says, her tone bringing him to an immediate halt. “Your father will go towards the monster, and you will stay a safe distance away.”

“Gee, thanks for asking,” Rick mutters, rolling his shoulders as he makes his way over to the demodog corpse. He studies it for a second before just kicking the thing with his foot. Steve nearly jumps in to yank his father back, but stays frozen in place by Robin’s hand coming to rest on his shoulder.

His father kicks the corpse again, and Eddie suddenly asks, “Why do I feel like this is disrespectful?”

“Because it used to be alive,” El offers.

“It’s definitely not anymore,” Rick says, crouching down and using the barrel of his gun to push back one of the petals on its head. “Shit, what’s it need so many teeth for?”

“The better to eat you with,” Steve says, earning a snort from Robin and Eddie.

“And there were how many of these?” Evelyn asks.

“Dozens. Like, multiple packs, and they were all connected by this hive mind kinda thing,” Dustin explains, walking over to the corpse with no fear. “I mean, they weren’t all bad. Dart was okay.”

“He ate your cat,” Steve says.

“Yeah, and then he didn’t eat us in the tunnel.”

“I can’t believe you were facing these things and didn’t use your guns to spare some girl’s feelings,” Rick says, looking at Steve over his shoulder.

“I can’t believe you didn’t just use the golem,” his mother says, frowning as she turns to Steve. “I mean, you know where it is, dear. You know how to bring it to life.”

“A golem? Like…from Lord of the Rings?” Dustin asks.

“You had a golem? Why didn’t you tell me you had a golem?” Eddie asks.

“How did we not think of the golem? Holy shit, we’re dumb,” Robin says, smacking her forehead with her palm.

“I couldn’t trust that it wouldn’t hurt one of my friends,” Steve says, ignoring Dustin for now. “It would only protect me and Robin. If something happened to one of us, it would abandon the kids without question. What’s the point then?”

“Hello! Confused people over here!” Dustin shouts, getting their attention. “What golem?”

“You know,” Robin says, “like…of Prague.”

“No, still lost,” Dustin says.

Steve sighs, about to explain it when Eddie beats him to it. “The golem is from Jewish folklore,” he says, tilting his head as he looks at Steve, “It was created and brought to life by a rabbi in Prague to protect his congregation from pogroms and acts of antisemitism. There are debates on why he had to disintegrate the golem, though. Some stories say it started killing innocent people, others say it fell in love, and others say the congregation were using it to do chores instead of letting it focus on protecting them.”

“Yes, exactly,” Evelyn says, smiling at Eddie and nodding with approval, “The golem doesn’t speak much, but it can answer basic questions. According to it, Rabbi Loew removed its aleph because it requested to go to sleep.”

“Oh, so it just wanted a nap,” El says, nodding as though this makes perfect sense to her.

“You said you had the golem,” Eddie says. “Where?”

“At the house,” Steve replies, watching as his father stands from the corpse and drags Dustin away from it. “I keep it in the locked room downstairs.”

“You said that was your parents’ room,” Dustin says.

“No, you assumed it was, and I never corrected you.”

“Can I see it?” Eddie asks.

Steve looks up, meeting Eddie’s gaze. After a few seconds, he nods once and looks at his parents. “Did you see what you wanted?” he asks, “Can we head back?”

“Yeah,” Rick says, frowning as he nudges a vine with his foot. “I’ll come back later with Ardeth. See if he knows anything that might help.”

“What do we need help with?” Dustin asks. “The portal is closed for good. We closed it.”

“There’s nothing wrong with making sure,” Evelyn tells him, smiling reassuringly before turning back the way they came. “Now that Rick and I are here, we’ll do everything we can to make sure those gates never open again.”

“And if they do,” Rick says, bringing up the rear as the kids follow Evelyn, “we’ll take care of it. You kids don’t need to put yourselves in danger anymore.”

Something in Steve settles at hearing this, his next exhale taking all the stress that had made its home between his shoulders with it. For the first time in a long time, he thinks about something normal. He glances at Eddie and Robin and thinks about going to see a movie with them, drinking at the lake, and just being stupid teens that don’t have to worry about interdimensional monsters.

------

Tag List (there should be room still! So, if you’d like a tag, let me know!)

@trueghostqueen, @swimmingbirdrunningrock, @thoughtfulbreadpolice, @mogami13, @blcksh33p1987, @beawritingbooks, @remus-is-trans, @your-confused-friend, @estrellami-1, @nburkhardt, @vacantwatchers, @yeahhhh-suga, @phantomcat94

@blackpanzy, @ape31, @croatoan-like-its-hot, @plantzzsandpencilzzs, @flustratedcas, @anne-bennett-cosplayer, @just-a-tiny-void, @disrespectedgoatman, @fallingleavesinthewind, @nymime, @nectandra, @moomkin77, @nadenia, @resident-disappointment, @copper-arrows, @romanticdestruction, @rowanshadow26

@nadenia, @northernlight-witch, @steddie-as-they-go,

[dreaming-hibi]

In my quest to better understand the dying will flames’ system in KHR, I once again went into a deep dive of both the manga and the anime (as I have few other sources to consult). I immediately got derailed by the rings. 

I began my search at the very beginning of the future arc, considering that’s where most of the explanation on the dying will flames is, and found some interesting facts about the rings before I found anything about the flames. The interesting facts opened a can of worms I had purposefully decided to overlook many times, but now it was open so dig in I did!

In chapter 139, Lal explains the rules of fighting in the future. Fights in the future are fought with rings and boxes, completely changing the whole fight aspect of KHR going from there. Anyway, 

「リングはマフィアの黎明期に暗黒時代を生きぬくために」

“At the beginning of the mafia, the rings were (used) to survive in its dark age.” = when the mafia started, the purpose of the rings was for survival (perhaps through legitimization of the power? as rings are passed from one generation to the other, especially from boss to boss)

「先人達が闇の力との契約を交わしたことの象徴だと思われてきた・・・」

“It has been considered to be a symbol of a pact made between our ancestors and the forces of darkness” = the rings were so weird and mysterious that everyone thought they were forged from a satanic ritual

「だが沈黙の掟に守られてきたマフィアのリングには 人知を超えた力が宿っていたんだ」

“However the mafia rings, which were protected by the vow of silence (omertà), held a power far beyond human comprehension” = only the mafia rings protected by the omertà hold powers, and these powers are beyond human understanding

Lal points out that Tsuna and Gokudera must have seen the rings light up with flames at least once. And while she’s interrupted when she tries to explain that the rings are capable of more than just that, it’s obvious that she was hinting at the rings’ ability to open boxes. Lal’s explanation makes it very clear that only MAFIA RINGS are capable of… er, lighting up. So what do we understand from this? 

Mafia rings are made with a special conductive material, which automatically transforms wave energy into visible dying will flames. This material is not found in common rings, something which simultaneously answers a lot of questions and rises just as many. 

You can’t accidentally light up a wedding ring or a candy toy ring just because it’s a ring and you know how to use dying will flames

Where the hell is everyone finding all these rings? 

 If they’re not finding them and actually making them (implied by Gokudera’s Skull Rings used for his Sistema C.A.I), how come everyone seems to know the recipe for making these rings but still consider them “Oh so mysterious��? 

Who the fuck crafted all these rings? And still is! (cause the Varia gets some custom-made rings)

Further down the line, we also get a ranking system for the rings, with E-rank being a low grade ring and an A-rank being the highest grade of ring, and the Tri-ni-sette being OVER RANK-A (basically SS). Considering the Tri-ni-sette was made from the seven stones supporting the Earth, it’s obvious how they would be of superior quality — which to me honestly just confirms that the mafia rings as a whole are made with a special material, not on par with the seven stones but somehow similar material.

So, the difference in quality of rings is probably due to: 

High quality material (A-rank) vs low quality material (E-rank) (it’s the same principle as choosing which material to use for a normal ring, some are more durable while others tarnish easily so think of it like that)

.

.

.

Where was I going with this?

[boxboxblog]

How Do F1 Cars Work?: Braking, Cooling, Sensors

I never know how to start these posts. Let's dive in.

Braking and Cooling

Brakes are an incredibly important part of any car, but most especially in F1. With the speed and power the cars have a sensitive, sturdy, and strong braking system must exist. In the case of modern cars, F1 uses an extremely efficient and durable carbon-carbon disc brake system. This allows the car to screech to a halt in a split-second, and allows drivers to use their speedy reaction times to the best of their ability. When the driver steps on the brake pedal, it compresses two master brake cylinders, one for the front wheels and one for the rear, which generate fluid pressure.

For the front tires, the fluid pressure is delivered directly to the front brake calipers (part that houses brake pads and pistons). Inside each caliper, six pistons clamp pads against the disc and it is this friction that slows the car down. For the rear tires it is a bit different.

At the rear, the car can brake by three separate sources: friction from the brakes, resistance from the spinning engine (engine braking) and electrical braking that results from harvesting energy from the MGU-K . Although the driver can adjust each of these on his steering wheel, when he presses the brake pedal, the three systems work together via the Brake By Wire (BBW) system.

When the driver presses the pedal, the fluid pressure generated in the rear braking circuit is picked up by an electronic pressure sensor. The signal from this sensor represents the overall rear braking demand from the driver and is passed to the Electronic Control Unit (ECU) where it is turned into a series of commands to brake the rear of the car. The ECU distributes its efforts to the three systems according to the the set up of the car and this is altered by the way that the driver has adjusted the switch settings on the steering wheel. This is what teams mean when they say changing the setting on the car.

Going hand-in-hand with braking, cooling is another important part of the car, especially for brakes. Basically, there is a series of systems that cools the power unit, brakes, and electronics. If the car overheats, it can lead to damage and lack of performance. There are a few ways to cool. Radiators cool the engine and hybrid system. Intercooler cools the air that the turbocharger compresses before it enters the engine. Brake cooling ducts bring air to the brakes in order to stop them from overheating.

2. Electronics and Sensors

So i'm sure many of you have looked at the steering wheel and been baffled that this thing that looks like a Nintendo Switch steers that car. The F1 steering wheel is incredibly complex and has a variety of buttons, screens, and knobs. For example, on the steering wheel is an area for strat settings, where their plans for all eventualities are mapped out. There is also a rotary knob for MGU-K settings, where drivers can switch around when faced with possible failures. The menu allows drivers control over every setting in the car. Beyond that there is the pit lane speed button, gear change buttons, race start button, energy recovery button, and brake balance knob, among others. It really tells you how much drivers do in a race beyond racing.

Other than the steering wheel, there is also the telemetry, over 300 sensors which gathers race data and sends it back to engineers on the pit wall. This way, engineers can either remotely alter settings and strat, or advise the driver on what to do.  F1 uses a customized mesh wireless network system based on WiMax 802.16 at each racetrack. The sensors record data, which is then temporarily stored in the Electronic Control Unit (ECU), which controls functions like engine performance and power steering. That sensor data then travels wirelessly to a centralized location managed by F1. F1 then sends the data to the relevant team, of course very securely. Teams then use a system called Advanced Telemetry Linked Acquisition System (ATLAS) to view and analyze sensor data.

The final pretty important electronic devices on an F1 car is the many many cameras. The most recognizable camera is found in the "T" structure that sits atop of every F1 car. It gives viewers that top-down, forward facing view used often by broadcasters. this is also how viewers often distinguish between cars of the same team. One driver will have a yellow camera, the other has black. The two nose cameras provides a view of the front wing and low circuit. The 360 camera is on top of the chassis and provides a wide view of the race track, and everything else around the car. The driver facing camera is pointed directly at the driver and helps keep track of how they are doing, and in the event of the crash helps marshals and rescuers figure out the best way to help. The two rear cameras are settled on a rear facing structure, and allows the pit wall to see what is going on directly behind the driver and advise. Beyond these ones, drivers also have cameras inside their helmets, showing exactly what they see. Can't get away with much in an F1 car.

3. How They Work Together

So, we now know the basics of most parts of the car. But these parts all must work together before that car will go anywhere. How do they do it?

One of the more obvious relationships is between aerodynamics and power. The better the aerodynamics, the more usable the power is. They also work in tandem around different parts of the track. On corners the aerodynamics keep the car stable while the power peters off. On straights the power keeps the car boosted. Suspension and tires are also very connected. It is the suspension that keeps the tires on the ground. A good suspension will also mean that the tires are easier to manage, something any driver knows is highly important. Brakes and ERS are also connected because the brakes help recover ERS, pretty simply. Also the cooling system works with most of teh car, cooling engine, tires, and brakes. The biggest connection is probably between all the sensors on the car. They are connected to every single part, and even a small bit of damage can destroy them. The non-sensor components have to accommodate for the sensors and work perfectly with them in order for proper data to be sent back.

The ultimate goal of engineers is to create a car that works in harmony all together. The integration of the engine to the chassis is highly important. There have been cars that the parts were fantastic on their own, but the minute they were put together stopped working completely. Its why teams that produce their own engines have such a leg up over non-manufacturers. Its also why sometimes you will see a car that is running poorly until one small thing is changed, and then suddenly its brand new. Car harmony really is terribly important.

Alright, done! While I covered most of the important stuff, as always if there is any particular part of the car anyone wants me to dive deeper into, please let me know.

Cheers,

-B

[signedeclipse]

Gyokko anon here to claim a topical emoji 🏺 and lay down a request (while also generally informing you that you're awesome and to take your time, please). Request specs: an NSFW oneshot where reader is a vase maker who gets so into her work she's completely oblivious to her surroundings, which of course irritates poor narcissistic Gyokko who came out to see who this rival vase artist is. Instead of going the violence route like he did with Haganezuka, he decides to go the sexy route to get her attention because he finds her surprisingly lovely. He pulls out all the stops, maybe even with those aphrodisiacs? Your choice if it works and have the best of days! 😄 - 🏺

The Monster and The Ceramicist [Gyokko X Reader]

Reader is Human Female | NSFW

Recomended Song - Cooler Than Me by Mike Posner

Any other pottery artist was a fraud, buying clay, using stamps, air drying their work, imperfect edges that are riddled with cracks.

Everyone was a step down from him.

That was why Muzan adored him so much. After all, Gyokko's porcelain was worked in ways no human could, and sold for the highest value in all of Japan. So long as he made enough or they were bid on high enough was all that mattered; until something made a mockery of his work.

Not purposefully, not directly, but he'd notice his were selling for less, and sought out for less. They still came up to extraordinary amounts, but it was starting to pull at his ego.

When his pen name lost the title of number one, it infuriated him! Certainly no other could compare, not to his extravagant patterns and perfect composition-

At least, that was how he felt until he promptly stole one of the new number one's pots.

It was clay, more specifically stoneware, different from the porcelain he worked with. It was heavier, and durability comparable to that of porcelain, but it was also much easier to dry out and crack.

Surprisingly, no matter how long he inspected the exterior or interior of the piece, he found no such imperfections.

Not only that, but he could tell this has not been bought, it was collected by the maker themselves, kneaded, cleaned and refined until it was perfect for working with. It was mostly perfect, aside from one fingerprint left on the inside of the vase, along the ridge before the rim.

"Tch, only amateurs could make a mistake like that." He scoffed, though he'd still gently placed the pot on a shelf in his studio, to motivate him of course, not because he liked it.

Unlike him, he was certain the name you'd used was authentic, and there were articles written about you in town's newspapers, especially in larger cities with more of the wealthy folk, where he was certain some of his pots now sat next to yours in their homes.

That meant it would be easy to find you, since you'd never have expected such an attack.

Or, so he thought. Because as it turns out, you weren't some pompous artist in the most luxurious place you could find in Tokyo city.

Instead you were hidden in the rural areas of Tokyo prefecture, by the river passing Mt. Odake, the small quaint village of Hinohara. It was unexpected to say the least, considering how small the village was. But he understood you likely went by the river bank to find the rich clay you used, which Tokyo city wouldn't have much of.

Moving only at night was easy, considering the lack of a night life most people in rural areas had. There was only one ceramist sign of all the shops along the river, and it led him to a small minka hidden above the steep edge of a road, shrouded in trees and bush that almost concealed it, had it not been for the warm glow of the lights from within.

You were up later than most who had long gone to bed, with a few windows slid open, along with two doors that led to a small covered patio of sorts. It was facing the road and down the mountain to the stream.

Had it not been for the spinning wheel in front of you, you'd have been gazing out at the beautiful view of extending mountain ranges and glittering skies.

Fortunately for him, your undivided attention on the craft at hand allowed him to hide in plain sight, amongst the many of your pots was his own, which he peeked carefully from the edge of.

At the moment, the only sounds were of you humming quietly to yourself, the bamboo chimes hanging from the roof of the porch, and the white noise that was the wheel slowly turning, grinding into slit that had likely fallen between the cracks of the contraption. It was a moment of peace, which he watched you work in contemplation.

His pot stood out from yours, so he was certain you would spot him the moment you took a break from your work. It was just a waiting game, because what fun would it be for him to jump out and kill you just like that?

Your death wouldn't be a waste, at the very least you deserved an exquisite demise.

Except, you seemed very, very enticed in your craft.

He watched you pull the clay till it thinned and collapsed.

Saw your slip-dried hands slice the piece in half with a thread the moment it was lopsided.

And rebuild the same structure over, and over, and over, until several hours had passed and the break of dawn was only an hour or two from rising.

His captivation melted his patience with time, until he finally had enough of hiding, opting instead to roll out in front of you and slam his hands into the wooden floor, resulting in a large banging noise.

"I don't get it! What are you destroying these pots for! It's been hours, hours of me waiting for you to finish! How hard could it be to make one-"

"Shhh...." You raised a finger to your lips, carefully raising your foot from the pedal so the wheel could slow as you worked delicately, only glancing up at him once, "I'm working."

For an entire moment, the demon slouched, defeated by your reply. You had looked at him, seen his form, yet you paid no mind.

His frustration was reaching a boiling point when he noticed you were entirely ignoring him, was this stupid craft really that important to you? More than your life? More than being stalked by a monster?

He tried waving his claws hand before you, but the only response was an annoyed scoff, followed by your shifting to get a view where his arm wasn't.

As upset as he was, as much as he had intended to slaughter you to reclaim his title, Gyokko was holding himself back from crushing you into a bloody slurry.

Because… because...?

It surely wasn't that he admired your concentration to a point of deep envy, no, and it wasn't that he found you as beautiful as your handiwork, that'd be stupid.

It had to be him being so kind, so generous, that he wanted to best you naturally, to watch you fall behind him in skill, to prove he was not only a talented killer, but the perfect ceramist.

Even then, he had to do something to help his shattering ego, and he was running out of both time and ideas.

"Don't you know how rude it is to ignore others? You ought to learn some manners..." He mostly spoke to himself, considering his voice lay a low whisper, but his actions were anything but personal.

Whether you realised it or not, the being returned to his pot in order to shed his skin, slithering out with a new body just out of your peripheral vision. The gleam of his scales seem to catch your eyes, because he noticed you pause for the first time.

"Oh? Are you interested now?" Though you'd finally given him even the slightest of attention he craved, it wasn't enough to react to the now looming shadow behind you.

Webbed fingers wrapped around your torso, squishing his toned chest into your back, easily felt through the fabric of your top. His talons were sharp enough that the slightest drag cut through the cloth, leaving a hole for your chest to spill out of.

Be it out of stupidity, ignorance, or concentration, you snapped your focus back onto your potter's wheel, though he felt your arms had tensed, making it harder for you to work the material.

Gyokko wouldn't give up so soon, if you wanted to play this idiotic game, he would happily win.

The thin slime along his hand was cold when it met the exposure of your chest, pinching at your nipple with the flat of his finger, making sure his claws didn't get too familiar with your sensitive skin. The webbing allowed a more encompassing grab, which you seemed to enjoy judging by the sharp inhale you let out anytime he squeezed his hand.

Despite that, you kept going, and so did he.

While the clay slip on your palms dried out, his free hand slithered between your parted legs, using a nice level of force to press against your clit through the thicker fabric of your canvas bottoms. His hands were so large, big enough to keep you from closing your legs, had the wheel not already been keeping them apart.

A devious chuckle teased from each of his mouths, dancing a hot breath into your neck, which his face had shoved itself into in order to trail green lipstick marks along your sweet skin.

He was quick enough with his claws that you hadn't noticed them cut through your pants, only feeling the same cold sensation on your chest now pressing into your folds.

It was then that your hands stopped, one grabbing onto his wrist and the other hesitating just beside your pot.

His skin was all scales, which stretched under your grip. They were much harder, though, as you'd been completely unable to move his wrist.

Finally pleased that his performance was heeding results, the upper moon pushed two fingers oozing with a blue opaque substance, coating your inner walls with it by stretching his fingers throughout. It was slippery, and let him pump his fingers comfortably into your tight hole.

"That's it, finally paying attention, are we?" As happy as he was, Gyokko didn't just want to stop you for a moment, no, he wanted to leave you unable to continue for enough time to give him a head start on his next project.

Fortunately for him, he'd given you a double dose of yohimbine, an aphrodisiac that would certainly increase your blood flow, but would also act as a nice relaxant.

The girth of his two fingers were nothing like his true size, which is what made your choked moans so adorable.

"You can't take it? Aren't you supposed to be creative? Make it work~!" He teased your nature, sliding his thumb against your clit with the same substance, though this one had slight warming properties, leaving your clit pulsing beneath his teasing touch.

The mix of his cool skin to the warmth of his aphrodisiac was confusing, leaving you in nothing but a daze as he continued feeling you up.

It's as if the gods themselves had sculpted your body, every curve, dip, bump, it was all memorised by his other hand while he took in the scent of your hair, skin, and sex, which was intoxicating to the demon.

He wanted to plunge his face between your thighs, to mark you up and down, but he had restraint- for now.

Finally you seemed to lose interest in the pot, your other hand reaching back to hold onto the back of his neck with your back arched, which he happily pushed into so you couldn't unto your position, pulled back into his lap and away from the pottery wheel or stool.

"Doesn't that feel so good? I know, it must feel amazing being worshipped by me." As cocky as he was, his cheeks were still pink when your head nodded rapidly, rutting your hips into the thrusts of his fingers.

He happily obliged with your needs, meeting an inhuman pace to satiate your slutty needs. His free hand finally rose to your face, roughly squishing your cheeks to shove two fingers in your mouth and forcing your head back to stare at the ceiling.

Saliva dripped from your mouth, coating said fingers and leaving your moans strangled. It was effective enough to keep you silent when you came to a shattering orgasm, body convulsing into his.

But he didn't stop, no, he still had himself to take care of, though the rest of the night was nothing but a blur into darkness.

...Since then, Gyokko hasn't visited, allowing you to recover. Much to his plans, you had no recent work hitting the market until almost a month later, when you released something different from usual.

It was a thin, tall post with two handles, and on each side was the imprint of two webbed and taloned hand marks, indenting each side so it almost looked like they were grabbing at a pair of hips.

Not for sale, titled "The monster and the ceramicist."

Author Note -  I hope bananaberry anon sees this because so similar to what they wanted and I think it would make them HAPPY!!! Anyways, thank you for requesting!! I added your emote to my pinned too <3 Fun fact! While picking the place you are from (Mount Odake) I actually found out thru google questions its the place Inosuke is supposedly from! That means you could have run into Douma, Gyomei OR Inosuke LMAO

Word Count - 2,103

[evenmorefatallyobsessed]

Prof. Rose AU Concept

To be clear this isn't the only Au/ comic I'll put the model in but it is the one that comes to mind for me most often.

All of team RWBY are born into the previous generation.

Ruby would've never thought of herself as the teaching type of Huntress and yet here she was in Beacon showing students how to Huntress with the best of them.

So yeah she was a bit late to the classes she taught, and liked to dress... Um, a bit messily BUT THAT WAS HER METHOD GOSH DANGIT!

Besides she was a adult, and a awesome one at that. Heck Gynda barely ever scolded her... Anymore.

Today was no different either as she walked to the auditorium. Near the launch pad, watching as new students came flocking out looking around with stars in their eyes and hope in their hearts.

She remembered being like that back then... Okay, maybe not like that one blonde blowing chunks into the garbage can but still.

A bunch of Weiss's Dust packed, she was Enough reminiscing she had stuff to do like being a awesome partner, moving her friend's Dust to their room. Now she didn't need to pay extra for them to navigate Beacon and, and, ACHOO!!!

'Boom!'

What Was This Place Cursed!? Really? the same spot she blew up I on her first day her all those years ago!

At least she didn't have a fuming Weiss to deal with this time again... Right now.

She sat there sulking remembering back then to. That'd nearly broken her back in the day. But she knew better now, nobody would come to help he-

"You okay?" She blinked, looking up and meeting gazes with a boy.

"Aren't you the guy who blew chunks in the trash?" And like that she'd instantly insulted one of her students and a nice cute one too... Wait, cute?

"Hey I have motion sickness! It's a common problem that a lot of people have." They walked through the school, him quick to follow her lead. The boys name was Jaune, obviously he was a first year.

And he wielded a classic bastard sword with a mecha-shifting sheath/ shield. Nothing fancy but the metal was like freakishly durable and seemed immune to rust! She'd admit to drooling over the thought of what she could make with a alloy like that.

Oh And Jaune Was A Arc!

A Actual Arc! To most people that wouldn't mean much, heck to hear even just a few years ago it wouldn't mean much. But now that she and her team were Part of Ozpins super secret decret circle she knew better.

Jaune came from a long line of heroes, heroes who fought against Salem and in just about every war you could look up. Heck one of the two people exemplified on the statue were a Arc!

Yep Jaune was gonne do great, awesome things, she just had a gut feeling about these sorta things. He even got that she was older then him! And with her baby face that was saying something!

Though admittedly he did only think she was a senior, but still. Jaune was hitting every box to being her favorite student this year. She was so excited she was gushing about her new friend to Glynda and the rest of the staff that night.

Still if Jaune was gonna be her new favorite student she wanted to know everything about him she could. Some research was in order... And he cheated his way into Beacon...

Cool, and here she was expecting worse like him being a former terrorist or bandit like Blake or her uncle Qrow. He just never went to combat school.

That wasn't so bad, he probably had the basics down and could he taught the rest. Yep, everything would be A-Okay!

-0-0-0-

EVERYTHING WAS NOT A-OKAY!!! Heck It wasn't even C-Okay! It was F-Bad! Real Bad! Jaune Didn't Have Aura! Nope Nadda! HOW!?

What Kinda Parents Didn't Unlock Thier Kids Auras When They Wanted To Fight Grimm!

Thank God Pyrrha There... Touching his chest, unlocking his aura... One of the most intimate acts you could share with another person...

Huh? She, she didn't like that... At all. Though there were some hiccups Jaune and his team managed to pass, with Jaune leading it... Yeah she was getting flashbacks to her first year.

The party started and his team was the center of attention or to be more accurate Pyrrha and very very much not normal knees. Good thing Jaune seemed to catch on quick cuz he quickly took the lead and acted like a buffer between her adoring fans. And now Pyrrha was blushing as she looked to him.

Did she like him... No.

No no no no NO!

Okay, so maybe she had a few drinks, but she was a adult so it was fine... Besides the drinks just made Jaune look yummiest after all... Yummier?

She dragged him off for super secret team leaders advice that none of the other leaders needed. Why would they?

Nope Jaune was her friend and student, which meant she won, Pyrrha was just his partner.

So they talked, about how imitation went, about his family (And geez what a family) and what he wanted to be... Like her? Her?

"Yeah, I looked some videos up and figured out you were some kinda hero Craterfac-, I mean Ms. Rose.

Nope! She did not like that! And refused to let it stand. And when he dared to refuse her refusal she decided force was needed and tackled him down.

Pinning down her new friend/ student she threatened him to start calling her Ruby again like all her friends only to freeze up. Becaus something was pushing up against her. Something big and hard, and in Jaune's pants... Oh!

And like that he was off, rushing away with a absolutely tomato colored face. And she was left there, everything clicking in her head and tingling in her body... Oh, so she had a crush on Jaune...

And didn't that present a problem, Ruby Awesome Rose had butt tons of experience in a lot of stuff.

Fighting Grimm, Weapon Repair, Baking... But romance was very much not her field. And Weiss and Yang were nowhere in sight to ask for advice. Well, at least there was once source of study she had available on hand.

Thank Oum for Blake and her books, she was sure they'd make Great references material...

And great they did, especially with a drink or two... Yep Jaune could definitely be like these studs and... Heheh and do fun stuff to her.

Actually 'Hic' why did she never think about making babies? She was a grown woman, and Jaune she could chisel into a super hunky knight.

Yeah, the more she thought of it the better that idea got. And drinks made the plan all the sexier. utterly sloshed, she worked another orgasm off of watching a teacher student porno, and found herself quite annoyed.

Why was she using this? There was a cute dork who just passed Initiation AKA was totally and utterly legal.

Her mind made up she whipped out her Scroll and made her way down go JNPR's room. Knocking on it, waiting for someone to answer, for 'Him' to answer, the door opening her prize came half confused as and all flustered as he readied to speak. But she didn't let him, after all she wanted a taste really bad...

Lips smacking she pulled back and found him landing flat on him ass face red as a tomato and pitching a new tent.

Her drunk mind worked a lightbulb and she smiled. .

That was just the sorta reaction she wanted, she would pressed on, already getting ready to pull down her top but she could hear the familiar sound of Glynda's heels as she made her way there.

-0-0-0-

Jaune was flustered, not sure how he was gonna face Prof. Rose, yep, Professor, Ruby as it turned out wasn't just some quirky fourth year student. Nope, his dumb butt went and made buddies with his teacher... He could already hear the bullies cracking their knuckles. That team CRDL group had been bugging him ever since, but somehow that wasn’t even the worst of it. Nope, the worst was Ruby herself, well… What she did while drunk…

 His cheeks pinked, still vaguely recalling the taste of strawberries… He really needed to clear the air, he knew asses who tried to take advantage of his sisters when they were drunk and he had no intention of falling in with that lot.

All he could do was try to clear the air with miss Rose and hope she would be understanding, she might’ve kissed him but he did lean into it instead of rejecting it. So even if others would argue it he felt guilty… Still he was in his first class here and she was gonna teach it, fingers crossed she wouldn’t hate his… His. Sexy… Wha!? No he meant what was she wearing!?

-0-0-0-

One awesome thing about having a Drunkle Qrow was that Ruby Rose was a expert drinker, highly adapted and incredibly quick to bounce back. AKA no hang overs and a crystal clear memory… And oh did she make great memories last night!

Hehe, he tasted like honey, and his face got all red, she bit her lip thinking about it, okay so yep Ruby Rose had it bad. And usually she might hesitate, but Drunk Ruby had nailed the assist! And now Ruby knew Jaune was interested and that she wanted it!

Oh she panicked at first, but then looked up the rule book and yeppers it was all cool and legal! Heck her dating Jaune wasn’t nearly as bad as half the stuff her team got into back when they were students!

Maybe when she was a freshman she might’ve panicked, have second guessed herself… But that was then, she’d gone through to much, to many difficult experiences to be thwarted by romance… Mt. Glenn… Dr. Merlot and Salem’s sinister circle and the Hunters disappearing in Mistral. Ruby Rose had faced death and danger on scales most hunters would never know.

And from them she’d learned above all else the value in being decisive, and Ruby Decisive Rose had a new goal! And that goal was a blonde young knight husbando! Mark her words! Ruby Rose was Gonna get herself a man! And Jaune Arc didn’t stand a chance!

She would use all the knowledge and know how of Blake’s many smutty books, and years observing her big sis flirting to her full advantage! She was no longer a member of the itty bitty boobie club dangit, she had Ruboobies to match her Bubooty! And she was gonna use it to it’s full effect!

And Ozpin was all for her making some Silver Eyed Babies! Which meant Jaune Arc was as good as her’s! Ruby Rose had it going on and every student in the class had their eyes on her in her sexy dress including Jaune!

Operation Lancaster Start!

[unbidden-yidden-deactivated20240]

For a number of years, I've been thinking about what an alternative to fast fashion might look like that wouldn't rely on companies to decide suddenly to stop selling us garbage or government regulators to actually make rules with teeth on planned obsolescence and externalities.

Obviously the goals would be to have the whole process from field to closet to waste degradation be environmentally sustainable and rely on fair, well-compensated labor.

The items themselves would need to be designed to last for a very long time: socks and underwear for a minimum of five years; bras for a minimum of ten; leggings, undershirts, t-shirts, and shells for a minimum of five hard-wearing years or ten light-wearing years; and outerwear, bags, and accessories for decades. Wool and leather coats, properly maintained, should be able to be passed down to your grandchildren. Shoes would vary greatly based on the exact material and purpose, but would be designed with the same durability considerations.

The fit should be unique to the person, and tailored to fit their exact proportions, body fat, and hard-wearing points. Therefore, items would not be labeled by size at all, but generally shown in different schematics to demonstrate what the item would be tailored to look like on different body types. Instead of just designing items for straight sizes and items for plus sizes, make general design plans that are easily adjusted to be shrunk or hemmed in some places, reinforced in others, and let out or expanded in others.

How the person wants to wear the item should also be taken into account: is this going to be a neck scarf or headscarf? Is this sleeveless dress going to be worn as a sundress or over a shell? Is this person going to be wearing breast forms or binding? Does this person use a wheelchair and if so, what are the touch points/hard-wearing points based on their actual chair? Etc.

Lifestyle should be taken into account: what is this particular item going to be used for? Are you hiking? Climbing mountains? Working on a farm? Working in an office or courtroom? Working retail or in a restaurant? Lounging with friends in your home? Playing sports? Wrangling small children? What do you need to do in your clothes? And what if you need something that will get your kids to daycare, yourself to your office day job, to a post-work workout or date with friends, and then to moonlighting as a cashier at a pizza place? (This is a real example of one of my friends, btw.)

It should not only be possible to move comfortably in the clothes to be able to do everything you want to do, but should be possible to easily modify the look to allow for multipurpose use with a simple reconfiguring of the garment and/or changing up the accessories. Pockets and ways to adjust the clothing for different external factors like temperature, weather, and time of day would be a must for basic items like button-up shirts, dresses, pants, and skirts. Additionally, sensory aspects should be taken into account as well - no itchy tags or ill-placed seaming, and certainly no plastic seam support tape or interfacing to make up for poor base materials. How the item wears over time should be considered, so that it starts out feeling good and wears into being extra comfortable and lived-in.

Simply put: the clothes need to be designed for practicality and comfort.

To the greatest extent possible, it should be easy to do immediate care for the clothes at home - stain removal, washing, drying, and even basic mending. However, for items with more technical maintenance and/or repairs, that service should be provided in-house to allow for more durability and control over sustainable practices for things that can't simply be washed, like wool coats. Repairability would need to be considered for common hard-wearing areas; extra panels in the inner thigh, elbow, knee, and armpit areas to help make the garment easily repairable to look as good as new would be things to consider.

Similarly, the look and style should be considered for the intended duration of the item. If it needs to look elegant for twenty-five years, then it needs to be designed with a classic look that will last the full time. Things like consistently flattering lines, colors, and patterns that tend to stay in fashion should be prioritized, with the ability to easily add or subtract embellishments to update the base garments. Accessories should be designed with a much greater range of colors and styles to allow for outfit variation and customization.

And the idea I keep coming back to is of a subscription styling, tailoring, mending, and recycling service with a lot of different plans and multiple payment structures to offset the cost of all of this. Realistically, the Vimes boots theory of economics is well in effect here. A dress that could replace thirty cheap fast-fashion items but will cost $5000 isn't going to happen for anyone who isn't exceptionally wealthy, even if over time it actually costs the individual less. The only real way to do this would be to treat it like an asset and structure payment accordingly. In the meantime, having a staff to handle maintenance of the items (such as repairs, style updates, and refitting as the person's body changes) would help to improve the sustainability of it as a business.

Anyway I'm not a business major, but I'm curious about what y'all think of that approach? Is this something you'd consider?

[spiritboxies]

if you don’t mind me asking because I don’t feel like scrolling down all the way to see a post if you did explain it, but what is with your theory that boo 9, choir/astra, and lead are all the same person? Not saying I don’t like it. I’m just a little curious.

it's alright! admittedly this is more of a crack theory than something i'd seriously consider as potentially canon 😅 but here's what i suppose i'd call my "evidence":

the lead = astra evidence is probably the strongest: both characters are associated with the same symbol! lead has it on his shirt, and astra has it on the glowing circle in his chest (i'm assuming thats his battery/core/whatever sci-fi power supply he runs on)

in addition, there is some continuity between past versions leading up to dystopia. most noticeably the triangles indicating the cumulor's control in dystopia can also be seen in alive's 1st & 3rd bonuses!

there's likewise signs of continuity between dystopia & wekiddy, such as the arcade machine showing the events of dystopia's 2nd bonus, and lyrical references to that same scene in wekiddy's 2nd bonus. i believe this means wekiddy takes place after dystopia (probably a very long time after, like decades)

another interesting thing about the 2nd wekiddy bonus' lyrics are that they seem to lump "makula" in with the general "bad guys" the mech pilot is battling. at the same time, the arcade game treats him like a protagonist. i interpret this as astra ending up a controversial figure after the events of dystopia: some see him in the same heroic way the audience does, and some think he was a dangerous criminal.

the first similarity i notice between boo 9 and astra are their eyes: both have cool-tone irises and black sclera

mechanically speaking, both lead and boo 9 have the same functions in their versions as the foundation of the beat. in terms of lore, i'd like to think this means astra returned to his passion for music now that he doesn't have to battle an evil technocracy anymore

boo 9 also has a symbol from alive's 2nd bonus on his hat. as i mentioned before, alive & dystopia seem to be connected to each other, so this would imply boo 9 was around for both versions (as lead/astra)

one more general observation: usually cyborg characters are extremely hard to kill off, and can survive all kinds of extreme damage (looking at you genos lmao). so it's too much of a stretch to think astra could've survived the pyramid explosion and be rebuilt

so with all that in mind, here's my full explanation: lead became a full-body cyborg to better resist the cumulor's forces since he'd be a lot stronger n more durable. after he blew up the main power source in the pyramid, some other person in the resistance (i like to believe it was follow for shipping reasons lol) found his body and slowly rebuilt him, also upgrading him with more human-like features since he doesn't need to fight anymore. as time passed, the story of what astra did to end the dystopia became warped. to avoid dealing with the backlash, and to try and return to his life of music, astra gave himself the new identity of "boo 9."

hope this made any kind of sense at all @_@

[vintageairplanehub]

Are Old Planes Safe to Fly?— A Look into the Reliability of Vintage Aircraft Models

Have you ever seen a vintage airplane model  fly and wondered, "Are old planes safe to fly?" The sight of these classic aviation models gracefully soaring through the sky can evoke a mix of nostalgia and admiration. Yet, it also raises questions about the safety of flying aircraft that have been around for decades.

The vintage airplane models lies in their historical importance and timeless design. These aircraft models represent an era when aviation was still in its infancy, and each flight was a pioneering adventure. However, the reality of flying these older planes in today's world requires careful consideration.

One key factor in determining the safety of old planes is the rigorous maintenance they undergo. Unlike modern aircraft, which are designed with advanced technology and materials, vintage airplane models rely heavily on regular inspections and meticulous upkeep. Owners and operators of these planes are often passionate about their aircraft, dedicating countless hours to ensuring that every component is in top condition. This attention to detail is critical because the safety of an old airplane models hinges on the reliability of its parts, many of which may no longer be in production and need to be custom-made or sourced from specialized suppliers.

Moreover, the regulatory environment for old planes are strict. Aviation authorities, such as the Federal Aviation Administration (FAA), impose strict guidelines on the operation of vintage aircraft models. These regulations ensure that only planes that meet specific safety standards are allowed to take to the skies. This means that an old airplane model must pass the same rigorous checks as a modern aircraft before it can be deemed airworthy. The pilots flying these planes are also subject to special certifications, ensuring they have the skills and knowledge to handle these unique aircraft models safely.

However, flying a vintage airplane model is not without its challenges. These aircraft were built in a different era, using materials and techniques that may not match the durability and performance of today's standards. For example, older engines may not be as fuel-efficient or powerful as modern ones, which could impact the plane's overall performance. Additionally, the aerodynamics of some old planes may not be as refined, making them more challenging to handle, especially in adverse weather conditions.

Despite these challenges, many aviation enthusiasts argue that old planes can be just as safe as their modern counterparts when properly maintained and operated. The key lies in understanding the limitations of these aircraft models and respecting the knowledge that has been passed down through generations of pilots and engineers. Flying a vintage airplane is not about getting from point A to point B—it's about preserving a piece of aviation history and experiencing the joy of flight in the early days of aviation.

In fact, some vintage airplane models have become iconic in their own right, celebrated for their unique design and historical significance. Aircraft models like the Douglas DC-3, the Boeing Stearman, and the Piper Cub are beloved by pilots and aviation enthusiasts. These planes have earned their place in the annals of aviation history, and their continued operation is a testament to the dedication of those who keep them flying.

So, are old planes safe to fly? The answer is that with the right care, expertise, and respect for the aircraft's heritage, they can be. Vintage airplanes represent more than just a mode of transportation—they are living pieces of history, connecting us to the golden age of aviation. For those who appreciate the beauty and craftsmanship of these aircraft models, the joy of seeing them take flight is worth the extra effort to ensure their safety. Whether you're an aviation enthusiast or just someone who admires the grace of these old planes, there's something truly special about watching a piece of history roaming the skies in todays world.

[ganymedesclock]

So that #Syrin the Dread Blade tag, thats a new one. Seems like a interesting character, a sentient sword, how did Tyler happen upon them? What does the sword look like, and does it have any special magical abilities? How do they like the other members of the party? Do they actually speak or do they have a telepathic voice?

Technically it's just a tagging misconception; I haven't tagged Syrin reliably before because his nature as a sword does mean he's kind of attached to Taylor. But he is his own dude!

A short primer: magic items in this setting tend towards a level of awareness. Magic is essentially what souls are made of, ergo, if you stuff enough magic in anything, it starts to have a soul, and behaves accordingly. Entities as fully developed and chatty as Syrin are rare; far more common is that magic items tend to feel just a little bit haunted, inclined towards some things and away from others. It's a bit creepy if you're not used to it; enchantments are commonplace and widely accessible, so that 'not being used to it' is more a statement on if the individual is used to handling a particular thing.

Syrin himself is the ostensible opus of the previous Lord of Darkness, a Dark Sword that was meant to contest and cancel out the legendary sword of light wielded by the hero. Ostensibly, because for unknown reasons Syrin was left in storage the eve of the fateful battle. Being groomed exclusively for this purpose by someone he regarded as a father and then abandoned for ten years definitely wasn't traumatic or terrifying for someone with the cognitive level of a child, we promise. Especially since Syrin needs to eat.

Syrin's construction, and what leads Taylor to point out he's a bit like a 'needle', is a crystal-bladed thrusting sword with a hollow core. Despite its delicate looks, the blade is actually both quite sharp and highly durable; the thin tube at the center being essentially his mouth, by which he is supposed to drink blood. His victims', if he can get it, or, failing that, magically drawn from his host. As a result his blade itself ranges from grayish translucence to dark red if he's gorged to fullness.

From there, he has the power to generate and shape a kind of magical flesh, allowing him to weave more elaborate forms around his core body, the sword.

As you can guess, this gives Syrin a somewhat unpleasant and brutish first impression on people, as he has no verbal filters, was raised by a would-be conqueror of the world, and is dependent on blood and thus interested in more fights than not. I've described him before as like a preteen on xbox live who talks up a nasty game mostly out of loneliness and a need to be liked, where you can tell the kid themselves is not as bad as the people who taught them all those words and that they were "funny".

Deep down (and not all that deep, like I said, no filters), Syrin is a vulnerable child who was groomed to do violence and got no experience with it until strangers came to loot the dangerous ruins he was held in, at which point he did what you'd expect a strong but sheltered child to do faced with a home intruder, and killed/devoured that individual in a panic. His first kill being no glorious conflict or victory approved by his father, but essentially a desperate scramble in the dark with himself on the edge of fatal starvation messed him up even more than ten years of silence.

Enter Taylor and party, who happen to pass through those same environments. Syrin makes an attempt to body-snatch Taylor that fails due to the latter's particular properties, and Taylor, being both a good-hearted person and a stubborn busybody, feels obligated to bring this chatterbox with them and attempt to bully him into developing some sense of tact while Syrin attempts to Corrupt His New Wielder To Violence.

This doesn't work because Syrin has no real ideas how to go about corrupting someone besides loudly telling them to stab things more, while Taylor is an apprentice surgeon and mortician who is a lot more desensitized to bodies and their workings such that if they have a weapon, they'll at least consider it as a solution to most problems. So the punchline is that Syrin is more often thrown/flabbergasted by Taylor than vice versa, while the latter just sees him as a sort of annoying kid who's easily talked into almost anything as long as you compliment him first.

[clownhoodieguy]

An unidentified object crashes into your backyard - well, less of a backyard and more like an open field that you happen to own.

Examining the red hot ruins of what appears to be an escape capsule, the interior of the emergency shuttle indicating that whatever was inside seems to be anthropomorphic.

A glace behind the smoldering wreckage reveals that it's inhabitant didn't make it all that far from the crater, a massive, hulking creature laying limp in the dewy grass.

Guess you finally have a use for that sled, huh? Since it doesn't snow here anymore. Sliding the extraterrestrial onto your sled, you heave the being all the way back home.

Days pass, nothing. You're too scared to handle the alien any further, and they may well have passed away from their injuries long ago. Investigating the crash site reveals little to nothing about the creature, as anything comprehendible was either destroyed in the impact, or melted on the way down to earth.

Judging by the scraps of clothes just barely clinging onto the creature's body, they don't appear to be all that advanced, more resembling what a tribal warrior would dawn before heading into battle. The material the cloth and faux feather were made of tell a different tale, as some crude experimentation reveals it's sheer durability.

One particularly cool evening, while you are applying a damp cloth to their burns and cuts, it stirs, then awakens. All four of their eyes flick open, their slit pupils dashing over to you.

Before you even have a chance to react, it grabs your shoulders, yanking you in close, and thanks you from the deepest parts of their twin hearts...

By devouring you.

[Tw: vore, blood, mild injury from here onwards.]

Your head grazes the warrior's serrated fangs, leaving shallow gashes around the back of your head, it's hard to tell if the warm, thick fluid flowing over your face is saliva or blood.

Roughly cramming your dome down it's gullet, the surrounding walls firmly squeeze and suck you down the being body, muscular hands gripping your form and funneling it down their neck.

Any kicking and squirm was soon quashed by the deep scrapping of this alien monster's razor sharp claws, the claw marks all over your arms, legs and back burning like hot coals.

Finally, relief from the constant squeezing and rippling of your devourer's gulch - though this wasn't much better. Plunged face first into a puddle of green, glowing goo, and forced to remain under it as the rest of your shredded, blooded body piles in.

This is it, this is what you get for trying to be kind. You put in so much time and resources into saving this being's life, only to end up as it's- BRWOOOOAAARP!~

Disgusting, it unleashes a deep, unapologetic belch into the evening air, shrinking your confinements down until you're forced to hug your legs.

Ugh, and now those cuts are starting to itch, it must be that sludge you're now generously slathered in, seeping into every open gash and scratch. What a terrible way to end.

It speaks to you, their voice is rough, hardened, with a hint of teasing to their words. Maybe it was mocking you? Hard to tell when their language isn't even from earth.

Your world shifts, and so does the alien, the imprint of that hand presses inwards, steadily holding you in place as they arise from their "bed", which was just a couple of old mattresses on your dinning table.

Their bones crack and pop loudly with each movement, and it groans softly, perhaps relief in the ability to stretch their muscles again. After a few soft pets to the lump in their belly, it relaxes it's abdomen and gives you some wiggle room, a reward for settling down.

Speaking of that, the itching becomes unbearable, and with the gift of squirming space, you take the scratching your wounds.

Instead of tearing them open, opening your gashes for their stomach juices to flow in and break you down further, your scaring tissue scrapes away to reveal new skin. It's a little pink and raw, being a fresh new layer of skin, but its... not bleeding anymore.

The undulating walls around you close in again, the alien is hugging their stomach, claws gliding over the protruding paunch. For some reason, the smell is only just hitting you now, it doesn't reek like stomach juices should - which sort of makes sense, being that you're in an alien stomach.

It smells distinctly of honey and vinegar, and it's beginning to make your head spin!

You feel drunk, words slur and there's pins and needles in your fingers. Running your hands along the slick, squishy insides of the alien seems to temporarily relieve those pins and needles.

At this point, you're so intensely drowsy from the adrenaline rush fading away, the rapid healing process, and this drunken trance, that you cannot help but slump over to one side of the stomach and let the world get blurry until your faint.

Darkness. Sleep, or death? Oh, nope, you've just had the strangest fever dream where you were trapped in a familiar place that had been merged with another familiar place, you guys ever get those dreams? Uh- sorry.

Light at the end of a tunnel, it's rays of purifying white blind you to anything else around you.

Blurgk-

Forced from the extraterrestrial's stomach and onto a cushy cot, you bring your hands to your face and flick away a heaping glob of drool. It lears above you grinning widely at their catch.

This was not home, the gravity here was much too strong, and the stars are usually not this bright. Apparently they managed to call for rescue, but decided you were just too fun to leave behind.

The mattress under you creaks and groans as they alien plonks themself down next to you, slipping those frightening claws under your arms and lifting you into their lap like you would with a cat.

It clips a little badge to your soggy shirt, then beeps to life. The alien speaks in their tongue.

"Hello hello? Testing, calibrating... am I coming through clearly?", the magical translation device transforms it's words into cohesive English for you, with very marginal error.

For a while, you exchange words with the alien, discovering things about their culture and sharing things about yours. You were correct about the assumptions that they were a warrior race, they were forced to abandon ship, else they get killed in an unforseen abush.

After many-a story telling, fatigue takes hold again, and their strong, solid arms feel so safe and cozy. Seeing as you were growing unresponsive again, they'd hug you closely to their torso as you slumber to the rhythmic beating of their duel hearts.

===============================

Hhhhhhh I hope others like this as much as I do, I love cruel preds turned gentle so much! Wish I could've written more, but I need to study.