#vial production line

[adinathinternationalindia]

Vial Powder Filling Line

Vial Powder Filling Line (injectable powder filling line) including vial production line consist washing, sterilizing, powder filling, cap sealing and labeling machine for filling injectable vials. All machines aligned together to work as one complete system. Our range consist Semi Automatic Vial Filling Line as well as Automatic Vial Filling Line. In Automatic Lines conveyors of each machine connected with each other for untouched automatic operations hence it is also called Fully Automatic Vial Liquid Filling Line.

[ahqkas]

♯ DEALER ; theodore nott

PAIRING! theodore nott x fem!ravenclaw!reader

SYNOPSIS! smoking had never interested you before but when the local dealer catches your eye, you might get the experience of a professional

WORD COUNT! 2.9k

WARNINGS AND TAGS! smoking, theo is hogwarts’ dealer, reader is inexperienced in the area of smoking, theo teaches reader how to smoke, kissing

NOTES! i do NOT promote smoking / dealing in this, it’s simply a work of fiction!

HARRY POTTER MASTERLIST!

CIGARETTES, SLENDER CYLINDERS OF FINELY CUT TOBACCO WRAPPED IN PAPER, HAVE LONG HELD A FASCINATION FOR MANY. Each drag brings a mix of sensations: the initial spark and crackle as the flame meets the tip, the first inhalation that fills the lungs with a warm, almost soothing burn, and the exhalation that releases a plume of smoke, curling and dissipating into the air like whispers. The nicotine within offers a swift release, a rush that calms the nerves and sharpens the focus, although temporarily.

In the heart of Hogwarts, where the whispers of ancient stories mingled with the soft rustle of parchment, existed a sacred place of knowledge known to all as the library. To the ordinary eye, it was just a place of shelves filled with dusty books and boring atmosphere. But to those who knew where to look, was a hidden secret only some had the privilege of knowing. It was here, that Theodore Nott found his sweet spot.

Theodore Nott moved with a smooth, practiced ease. He blended in perfectly, among the towering shelves and the scent of old books. To most, he was just another student, perhaps a bit more mysterious than others. But to those who sought him out, he was a source of comfort, someone who could give them relief from the intense pressures of their magical education. A dealer.

Theo's operations were known to be like a well-choreographed dance. A subtle nod here, a quiet exchange there, all under the watchful yet unsuspecting eyes of Madam Pince. The library was the perfect place for his discreet business. It offered the privacy and anonymity that his clients needed - students from various houses looking for a way to escape their stresses.

Cigarettes, slender and neatly wrapped, were his main product to sell. Easily accessible and easily sold. Each one was more than just a tobacco roll; it was an object of escape. Theo understood the draw of that first spark, the way the flame flickered before lighting a moment of calm. He saw it in their eyes - the relief as the smoke filled their lungs and the world's worries seemed to disappear, even if just for a moment. He wasn't just selling cigarettes; he was providing a brief moment of peace.

But the Slytherin's trade wasn't limited to tobacco. For those in deeper need, he offered small vials of potions, each carefully brewed and discreetly hidden. These elixirs could calm stressed nerves or boost a tired mind, depending on what was needed. Theo got everything you could dream of.

His reputation spread quietly through whispers in common rooms and soft murmurs in the Great Hall. To some, he was a lifeline; to others, a tempting distraction. And through it all, Theodore Nott remained a mystery, a figure covered in secrecy, walking the fine line between the pursuit of knowledge and the lure of the forbidden.

He was intelligent, cunning, and unbelievably handsome. No one would suspect him for a dealer.

That boy got your interest.

You stood hidden behind a tall shelf in the back corner of the library, your heart pounding loudly in your chest as you peered through the gap between two dusty volumes of Hogwarts: History. The library was quiet, the usual hum of activity reduced to a soft whisper. You were careful to keep yourself concealed, not wanting anyone to notice your presence, least of all the Slytherin boy.

Your eyes were fixed on Theo, who was standing in a quiet corner of the library, partially hidden by the towering bookshelves. His movements were smooth and calculated as he reached into his cloak and pulled out a small vial filled with a bright blue potion. The vial shimmered under the soft light, casting an ethereal glow that caught the eye of the Hufflepuff girl standing nervously before him.

Theo handed the potion over with a calm, practiced ease, his expression unreadable. The Hufflepuff quickly slipped a handful of coins into Theo's hand, their fingers brushing briefly before the girl tucked the potion into her robes and hurried away nervously. You watched as Theo carefully counted the money,

Good to know you won't be first to approach him with those feelings.

You stepped out from the safety of your hidden place, your heart racing as you made your way towards Theo. The decision had been made in your mind - you needed those cigarettes, even though you had never smoked a single one in your entire life. The Slytherin interested you, and what was better than the idea of approaching him with a business offer?

Theo's eyes flickered up as you approached and a flicker of surprise appeared on his face before he quickly masked it by his usual calm demeanor. He had noticed you before, the pretty Ravenclaw with the fierce personality, always absorbed in your studies. You were the exact opposite of his usual clientele, and that piqued his interest. What was the Ravenclaw's good girl doing here, with him?

He watched you with a mixture of curiosity and wariness, noting the determined set of your jaw and the way your fingers clenched around the strap of your bag that clung to your shoulder. You were nervous, that much was clear, but there was also a resolve in your eyes that he couldn't ignore.

As you came to a stop before him, the faint scent of old books and parchment lingering in the air between the two of you, Theo tilted his head slightly. "[Last name]," he greeted, his voice low and smooth, a hint of amusement playing at the corners of his mouth. This would be interesting. "What brings you here?"

You took a deep breath, steadying yourself. "I need some cigarettes," you said, the tome of your voice firm despite the flutter of nerves in your stomach.

Theo's eyes narrowed slightly, appraising you. He had seen many students come to him for relief, but your request was something he wasn't expecting in the slightest. Still, he had watched you from afar, intrigued by your quiet determination and the air of mystery that surrounded you. Could you blame him though? You were pretty, smart, and had a flicker of fire in you.

Just Theo's type.

Your request hung in the air, tension crackling between you like static electricity. Theo's gaze softened, his expression a mixture of concern and understanding as he considered your plea. Sure, he was a dealer, but he wasn't heartless.

"I'm not sure that's a good idea," he began cautiously, his silver eyes flickering over your determined expression. "You've never smoked before, have you?"

Well, that was surprising. How did he know that? You shook your head. "No, but I need something, anything."

Theo paused, his mind racing with conflicting thoughts. He knew the risks of smoking, the addictive grip it could have on a person's life. Merlin, he smoked almost every single day, of course he knew. Yet, as he studied you, he couldn't not notice the desperation in your eyes - the same desperation that had driven countless others to seek him out.

But you  wanted him for something entirely different.

Finally, with a sigh, he relented, his hand reaching out to offer you the pack of cigarettes in his hold. "I'll give them to you, but only if I can share one with you," he proposed, his voice soft yet firm, insisting on it. He wouldn't take a no for an answer in this. "And I'll teach you properly how to smoke. It's not something to take lightly."

Your eyes widened in surprise, gratitude flooding your features. Your plan worked. “Thank you, Theo," you breathed out a sigh of relief. "That means a lot."

The Slytherin nodded and a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "Consider it a lesson in the art of stress relief," he said with a hint of amusement in his tone. "And the pack of cigarettes? It's on the house."

Decisions are the threads that weave the fabric of our lives, guiding us along paths both familiar and unknown. Good decisions illuminate our journey of life, leading us towards fulfillment and growth. They are born from careful consideration, informed by wisdom and experience, and guided by values and aspirations. In contrast, bad decisions cast shadows upon our path, obscuring our vision and stirring doubt and regret within us. They arise from impulsivity, fear, or ignorance, leading us astray and causing pain and disappointment. Yet even in the bad decisions, there lies the potential for growth and resilience, as we learn from our mistakes and strive to make wiser choices in the future.

You wondered if asking Theo for the cigarettes was a good idea.

You stepped into the cool night air of the Astronomy Tower, the darkness enveloped you like a familiar shadow. Above, the sky stretched out, filled with millions of flicker kisses stars. The moon, a delicate crescent hanging low on the horizon, cast a gentle glow over the landscape.

You tilted your head back, your gaze drawn upward to the constellations that adorned the heavens. To your left, the recognizable figure of Orion stood out, its three bright stars forming the distinct shape of the Hunter's Belt. Nearby, the sprawling form of the Great Bear dominated the northern sky, its outline marked by the gleaming North Star. As your eyes adjusted to the darkness, you identified the graceful curves of Cassiopeia, the Queen of Ethiopia, her celestial throne outlined by a delicate arrangement of stars. Nearby, the Pleiades cluster sparkled like a cluster of diamonds, its seven luminous stars casting a soft glow against the night sky.

The sinuous shape of Draco, the Dragon, snaked its way across the firmament, its serpentine form twisting and turning amidst the sea of stars. You through of the person whose name matched, and hung out around Theodore Nott every day since the beginning of your years at Hogwarts.

Theodore Nott. Of course your mind would run to him.

You found yourself leaning against the worn wooden railing of the Hogwarts Astronomy Tower, the cool metal digging into your forearms as you stared down at the pack of cigarettes you had received from Theodore nestled in your hand. With a heavy sigh, you traced the embossed design on the pack with your fingertips, your thoughts drifting like wisps of smoke on the night breeze again.

You had never imagined yourself in this position, a cigarette pack in hand, contemplating the choices that had brought you to this moment. Funny how decisions were full of consequences.

Theo - the quiet boy from Slytherin who had caught your eye despite the whispers that surrounded him. He was the one who seemed to exist on the fringes of Hogwarts' social circles, yet commanded a silent respect from those who sought him out for his promised offerings.

You couldn't deny the curiosity he stirred within you, the way his piercing silver eyes seemed to hold secrets untold, and his cold presence beckoned you like a moth to a flame. Despite the stark differences between the two of you - you, the respected Ravenclaw, he, the mysterious dealer from Slytherin - there was an undeniable pull between you, a magnetic force that defied logic and reason of the question: why?

Opposites attract, they say, and you couldn't help but wonder if there was truth to the saying.

Before you could react any further, Theodore Nott appeared beside you, his presence as silent and mysterious as ever. The faint scent of tobacco and earthy cologne trailed behind him. He smelled nice.

Without a word, he materialized a slender cigarette from his pocket, the tip ready to glow with a soft ember by the time he placed it in the corner of his mouth. He held the cigarette between his fingers and without breaking eye contact, he spoke in a low, calm voice, guiding you through the new experience with a patience you hadn't expected.

"First, hold it like this," Theo instructed, gently placing the cigarette between your fingers, positioning it just right. His touch was light, almost fleeting, but enough to send a spark of fire through you. You mimicked his hold, feeling the slightly rough texture of the cigarette paper against your skin. Theo's fingers lingered briefly over yours, adjusting your grip until he was satisfied.

"Now, bring it to your lips."

You felt a nervous tremor in your chest as you positioned the cigarette between your lips, its unfamiliar weight resting delicately. The cool night air brushed against your skin, but all you could focus on was Theo, standing close enough that you could see the slight smirk playing at the corners of his mouth. His eyes, sharp and penetrating, never left yours, holding your gaze with an intensity that sent shivers down your spine. How could a man be this beautiful?

Theo raised his wand, the tip glowing softly. "Hold still," he murmured, his voice low and steady. You complied, your breath hitching in the back of your throat as the wand's flame drew nearer.

He leaned in, his fingers brushing your cheek as he steadied the cigarette. The moment stretched out, and with a flick of his wand, the tip of the cigarette ignited, the flame casting a warm, flickering light over your face. It felt oddly comforting.

"Now, take a slow, deep inhale," Theo instructed, his eyes never wavering from yours. The flame's glow highlighted the depths of his gaze, making the moment feel both surreal and intimate.

You did as he said, drawing the smoke into your mouth. The initial harshness made your eyes water, but Theo's unwavering gaze kept you grounded.

"Relax," he whispered, his voice a soothing sound to your nerves. "You're doing fine."

As you exhaled, your shoulders relaxed as well, the initial discomfort easing into something more manageable. Theo's proximity made the experience less daunting.

"Again," he said, his voice gentle yet firm. "Slow and steady."

You gave him a nod, your eyes still locked onto his as you took another drag, this time more controlled, more assured. The smoke filled your lungs, and as you exhaled, you felt a strange sense of accomplishment. Theo's lips curved into a small, approving smile, a silent acknowledgment of your progress and your heart skipped a beat.

Just as you started to feel more confident in your actions, Theo reached out, his fingers brushing against yours as he took the cigarette from your hand.

With a deft movement, he placed it between his own lips, a smirk playing on his face. Your breath hitched as you watched him, your eyes drawn to the way his lips curved around the cigarette. The pink lipgloss you had carefully applied earlier left a delicate mark on the paper, and now Theo's lips were tasting the gloss.

His eyes glinted with amusement as he took a slow, deliberate drag, inhaling deeply. The ember flared briefly, casting a warm glow over his features, highlighting the sharp angles of his face, making him look like an angel. As he exhaled, the smoke curled and twisted in the air between the two of you, dissipating into the night.

He removed the cigarette and examined it, his thumb tracing the faint outline of your lipgloss. The smirk on his lips grew more pronounced, a blend of amusement and something deeper, something almost appreciative. He turned his gaze back to you, the intensity of his stare making your pulse quicken.

"Interesting choice," he murmured, his voice low and teasing, the words punctuated by a cloud of smoke. His eyes flickered to your lips, then back to the cigarette, the smirk never leaving his face. "Pink suits you."

Without fully understanding what compelled you in the moment, you felt yourself drawn towards Theo, the world around you fading into a blur. You leaned in, the distance between you closing in a heartbeat. The night air seemed to hold its breath as you moved, your focus entirely on Theo's face, his smirk fading into a look of surprise.

Your lips met his with a gentle urgency, capturing the soft, teasing smile that had been playing on his mouth like it was nothing. The cigarette fell from his fingers, forgotten as his hands moved to cup your face, the coolness of his skin contrasting with the warmth of your own.

The kiss deepened, and you felt the soft flutter of his eyelashes at the apples of your cheeks.

When the two of you finally broke apart, breathless and wide-eyed, the night air seemed to rush back in, filling the space between you. Your heart raced, your mind reeling from what you had just done. You searched Theo's eyes for a reaction, finding a mix of surprise and something that looked remarkably like admiration.

Neither of you spoke for a moment, the silence stretching out, filled with unasked questions and unspoken answers. Theo's smirk returned, softer this time, as he ran a thumb over your cheek, brushing away a stray lock of hair.

"Well, that was unexpected."

You nodded, your own lips curving into a shy smile. "I don't know what came over me," admitting, your voice barely held the tone of a whisper.

Theo's gaze softened, his fingers lingering on your soft lips. "I'm glad you did it," he said quietly, the words hanging in the air between you.

Tonight had changed everything, and you couldn't wait to see where this path would lead. After all, the consequences of your actions didn't disappoint and you would be a fool to let the aftermath of it go.

© ahqkas — all rights reserved. even when credited, these works are prohibited to be reposted, translated or modified

[libraryofgage]

Addams Family B-Side (3)

Part of: Steve Deserves Good Parents, Actually Debbie and Fester Addams One | Two | Three (you're here!) Rick and Evelyn O'Connell One | Two (on the way!) 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)

Did I already post today? Yes. Did I also post two chapters of Modern Steve in 80s Hawkins today? Yes. I am just incredibly productive today, who knows when it's gonna happen again lol

Anyway, finally! The next B-Side! This bitch has been stewing my guys, so I hope you enjoy it lol

There are two memes at the very end of this one, so definitely stick around

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

--------

For four weeks, Eddie feels himself losing his mind. He finds gifts in his locker every other day, and he's convinced they're from Steve Harrington. He now has a taxidermied bat, a fancy-looking vial with a skull and crossbones embossed in the glass and filled with mysterious liquid, an actual human skull that Eddie immediately incorporates into his next campaign, and a spider. An actual spider. A live spider that, after a little research, he learns is a fucking Black Widow that seems unnaturally friendly.

Eddie can't stress that part enough. Multiple people have mistaken the spider for an intricate vest patch because it just sits perfectly still over his chest pocket. It only moves to rub its head against Eddie's fingers whenever his hand passes over it, and even then it's careful to avoid hurting him with its pincers.

He names her Nox.

Those aren't the only gifts he's received, but they're the most notable, and Eddie is overwhelmed and flustered by the positive attention he's suddenly receiving.

The other thing driving him crazy is Pubert Addams, a guy Eddie had never paid much attention to before but now considers his mortal enemy. He's convinced Pubert is, at worst, potentially abusive or, at best, delusional and taking advantage of Steve's kindness and inability to brutally turn him down. Or maybe Eddie is the crazy one; he doesn't actually know. Whichever it is, Eddie is ready to take the very nice dagger he now has (gift number 15; yes, Eddie has been counting) and stab him with it.

Because he can't get more than two minutes alone with Steve before Pubert appears out of nowhere. Eddie runs into Steve in the hall while everyone else is in class? Pubert shows up with a hall pass two seconds later and literally waltzes Steve away from him. Eddie finds Steve camped out in the library during study hall? Pubert materializes in the chair next to Steve before Eddie can sit down, leaning far too close as he asks Steve to explain something from their shared Gothic Literature class. Eddie, by some miracle, is behind Steve in the lunch line (and he calls this a miracle because Steve always brings his lunch in a pink box with black skulls, which Eddie considers incredibly brave of him to carry around like it's nothing)? Before Eddie can do more than say hi and get a blinding smile in return, Pubert fucking Addams shows up and drags Steve away while promising to share his lunch.

Eddie is just about to lose the last shred of patience he's struggling to maintain when Steve finds him. Ironically, it's the same bathroom where they first talked, the one with mysterious mold growing in the corner that Eddie is convinced is some new species. It's the only bathroom with a busted smoke detector, and Eddie goes there to get high during his free period.

He's halfway through a joint, smoke curling around him as he sits on the sink counter and tries not to think about what else has been there, when the door swings open, Steve walks in, and Eddie chokes on his inhale.

"Don't die like this," Steve says, stepping closer and patting Eddie's back like they know each other, "It's no fun."

Eddie finally gets himself under control, taking a deep breath and wincing at the way his lungs burn. "No worries," he croaks out, regretting the departure of Steve's hand on his back. "What are you doing here? Please don't tell me you plan to use this bathroom."

"As curious as I am about the bacteria teeming on these toilet seats, no." Steve sounds genuine, like he really does want to swab the toilet seats and see what grows. Instead, he places his bag on the sink and pulls out a familiar vial with a familiar skull and crossbones. "I just came to drink."

"Oh?" Eddie says, leaning forward with a grin. He looks Steve up and down, taking in the pale blue sweater vest and immaculately pressed jeans. "You don't look the drinking type, Stevie."

Steve hums, popping the cork out of the vial and taking a swig from it. "This isn't exactly hard stuff," he says after he swallows, distracted enough that Eddie thinks he misses his eyes lingering on Steve's throat as it bobs.

"Just beer then?"

"What?" Steve asks, looking at Eddie like he's delusional. "No, it's cyanide and vinegar."

He says it with such conviction that Eddie believes him despite knowing cyanide is poison. "Metal," he says, looking away to take another drag of his joint as he struggles to break through his own awkwardness and hold a conversation that will somehow sweep Steve off his feet and make him forget all about Pubert Addams.

Before he can think of something clever and smooth and funny, Steve leans close and raises a hand to his chest. Eddie is about to warn him that Nox is, in fact, real when the spider scuttles onto Steve's fingers and settles in his palm. She does a little up-and-down motion, circles in his hand twice, and rubs her head against his wrist. "You've been taking good care of her," Steve says.

"Uh, yeah. How is she not biting you right now?" Eddie asks, remembering all the times Nox has warningly snapped at others who tried to touch her.

Steve snorts and allows Nox to return to her spot on Eddie's vest. "I raised her," he says, his tone casual like he isn't admitting to showering Eddie with inexplicable gifts for the past four weeks, "of course, she won't bite me."

"So, it has been you," Eddie replies, wanting to hear it from Steve himself.

With a soft hum, Steve takes another sip from his bottle. "Who else would it have been?"

Eddie licks his lips, takes another drag of his joint to brace himself, and hops off the counter. "So, uh, does that mean you li--"

Before the rest of the question can be asked, the bathroom door swings open again, and Eddie feels his eye twitch as Pubert Addams frowns at them. "So, this is where you were," he says, walking over to Steve and putting an arm around his shoulders.

"I told you I was going to the bathroom," Steve says, rolling his eyes as he stuffs the vial back into his bag.

Pubert looks Eddie over, a derisive huff escaping him as he dismisses Eddie and looks at Steve. "On the other side of the school? Really?" he asks, and Eddie would be overthinking what that means if he weren't sure his veins were about to burst.

"We were talking, you know," Eddie says, gaining Pubert's attention again. Steve looks at him, too, his eyes a little brighter.

"I'm sure," Pubert replies, rolling his eyes as he takes Steve's bag. "And now we're leaving." With that, he leads Steve out of the bathroom, the door swinging shut before Steve can do more than smile apologetically and wave.

Anger surges through Eddie, and the shaky drag he takes to finish off his joint does absolutely nothing to soothe it.

He's going to kill Pubert Addams.

--------

Funnily enough, Steve's mother doesn't learn about his crush until he's five weeks into it. When Debbie finally does discover the crush, it's because she walks in on Fester and Steve decorating homemade cookies shaped like anatomically correct hearts. She pauses in the doorway, looking between the two covered in flour and raspberry jam, and asks, "What on earth is going on here?"

Steve looks up, sees this as his chance to finally tell Debbie, and smiles brightly at her. "I'm in love, Mother. He's allergic to raspberry, and Father agreed to help me make him cookies with raspberry filling, so he can feel the same breathlessness I do when I see him," he explains, using his thumb to wipe raspberry jam off his cheek.

Debbie stares at him for a few seconds before looking at Fester. "How long have you known?" she asks.

"Five weeks," Fester admits, looking apologetic. "I wanted to tell you, Pumpkin! But Steve asked me not to so he could tell you himself."

She sighs and walks over to the island, sitting on the edge of a stool and taking one of the cookies for herself. She bites off a pulmonary vein, looking thoughtful as she chews. "I must admit, these are damn good cookies," she finally says, taking one more bite before passing it to Fester to finish. "Tell me about him."

And Steve does. He gushes about Eddie for a solid hour without taking a single breath, spilling everything he's seen Eddie do and how he's reacted to all of Steve's gifts and how he gets so obviously jealous when Pubert butts into their conversations. He tells Debbie about Eddie not screaming when he saw Nox, about him selling drugs, and about his interest in music. Steve laments his hair but eagerly describes the treatment routine he already has in mind.

By the time he's done, the cookies are decorated and his mother's expression has grown a little pained. "Steve, darling, come with me," she says, getting up from the chair and leading him out of the kitchen while Fester starts to clean up.

Steve waits until Debbie has brought him to her spare room to ask, "Did I do something wrong?"

"Well, did you remember my rules about crushes?"

"Yeah. I've talked to him a lot."

Debbie smiles and brings Steve over to the bed, sitting him down and straightening his hair before perching next to him. "Then, you're not in trouble, but you've been going about this all wrong, dear."

"Should I tell Pubert to stop making Eddie jealous?"

"Absolutely not," Debbie says, shaking her head firmly. "In fact, he could try harder. Nothing gets to a man like someone he can't have, especially if he thinks they're in distress."

Steve blinks, frowning slightly as he tries to figure out where, exactly, he's gone wrong. Eddie seems perfectly enamored with him, after all, and Pubert's goading is encouraging his affections, which is the only reason Steve has allowed it to continue. "Did I give him a live spider too soon?" Steve asks, figuring that's the problem here.

"No, that's not...," Debbie trails off, mutters something about Fester being an idiot, and clears her throat. "Steve, your father is the last person you should approach for love advice."

"But...you agreed to marry him, so he must have done something right," Steve says.

Debbie barks a laugh, waving her hand dismissively. "I married your father for his money. I attempted to kill his entire family and only stopped when he promised to give me everything I asked for. I would hardly call him a casanova."

Steve nods along, smiling a little as she speaks. He's heard their great love affair many times, but he doesn't get tired of it. "But you actually love him anyway, right? Father says it's because he showered you with gifts. So, that's what I'm doing."

"I...do love your father," Debbie admits, sighing as though she doesn't know how that happened either. "But it's less because of his gifts and more because...he gave me the devotion I wanted. Anyway, if you learn anything from us, it should be that love comes second."

"What comes first?"

Debbie smiles, the expression positively devious, and Steve can't help returning it. "Obsession," she says, her shoulders rolling back some as pride fills her. "Occupy his every waking thought. Make yourself irresistible. Make him dream of you at night. Overwhelm him with desire until he simply must act on it."

"Oh," Steve says, thinking of how his father acts around Debbie and realizing that obsession never quite went away. But it's worked out well for them, and he knows his mother has experience with luring men into her arms. He nods once and asks, "So, what should I do?"

"I'm so glad you asked," Debbie says, her smile bright and her eyes filled with excitement. "You'll have Eddie falling to his knees before you in no time."

--------

Eddie didn't think it could get worse. He was already attracted to Steve, already distracted by every little movement.

He was wrong. So incredibly wrong.

Because here he is, his mouth dry and his palms sweaty and his cheeks warm because of Steve. He's not even doing anything. Well, that's not true. Steve is curling his tongue around a lollipop before sucking it into his mouth like he'll die without it. But it's more than that. It's the painted-on jeans that hug his legs; it's the pastel pink hoodie (with little bats on the cuffs) that rides up whenever Steve moves to show off a strip of skin just above his waistband; it's the way he finishes the lollipop and pulls out lipgloss, casually telling Pubert it's raspberry flavored as he puts it on.

Eddie swallows around the dryness in his mouth, gripping his locker door so tight that his knuckles turn white as he looks inside it. Sitting innocently on top of everything is a Tupperware container of cookies with raspberry filling (according to the label), and Eddie is ready to eat one just so he can die knowing what Steve's lips taste like.

That's not even the worst of it. The worst is that Steve transfers into Eddie's Music Theory class, smiling innocently while the teacher introduces him and then directs him to sit at the empty desk next to Eddie. When he's close, Eddie realizes Steve smells like cookies and cream ice cream, and he's tempted to ask if Steve smells like his favorite flavor on purpose.

The teacher saves him from the embarrassment of blurting out the question by announcing a project. The teacher then dooms him by telling everyone they're required to work with their desk neighbor. Eddie grips his pen tightly when the teacher tells them to spend the rest of their class time discussing the project.

"So," Steve says, getting Eddie's attention. When he looks over, Steve is leaning forward on his desk, chin propped in his hand as he looks at Eddie. "Want to come over to my place after school? To work on the project, I mean."

Eddie stares at Steve for a few seconds, his tongue stuck in his throat. To his credit, Steve doesn't say anything or call Eddie out for staring at him. He just waits patiently with a little smile curling his lips. Eddie finally clears his throat, his voice coming out a little strained when he says, "Yeah, sure, sounds good. After school. Your place. Project."

Smooth. Real smooth.

When Steve just smiles wider and stretches his arms above his head, pulling his hoodie up, while suggesting they do the project on the evolution of heavy metal music, Eddie realizes he's probably going to die after school.

He can't wait.

-------

Tag List (I think there's still room for a few more people ^_^)

@estrellami-1, @itsall-taken, @mugloversonly, @fandomcartographer, @hippielittlemetalhead, @agree2disagre-kicks, @ledleaf, @just-a-tiny-void, @goodolefashionedloverboi, @ink1177, @maya-custodios-dionach, @littlebluejane, @steddieonbigboy, @ravenpainter, @read-write-thrive, @deadontheinside20, @yeahhhh-suga, @nectandra, @mogami13, @mx-jinxous, @thoughtfulbreadpolice, @anne-bennett-cosplayer, @xoxoladyclara

@zaddipax, @dycte, @breealtair, @geekymagicalpotato, @janea-grill, @juliasthename-adhdismygame, @yikes-a-bee, @wayward-people, @st-fics, @disrespectedgoatman, @bipusssy, @cottagecorebutnaturescaresme, @nightowl14028018, @that-binchh, @your-confused-friend, @irethsune, @goosesister, @strawberryyyenthusiast, @irregular-child, @theverywest

And, finally, a two-for-one meme special because I couldn't decide which was funnier:

[gothhabiba]

Measuring inequality قياس عدم المساواة

A measuring cup demonstrating the unequal division of water under the Occupation

[ID: A slim glass vial shown in 4 different states: empty; filled about 25%; filled a bit more; and filled nearly to the top. End ID]

€47,50

This measuring cup demonstrates the unequal division of water enforced by Israel across Palestine. Filled to the top line (500 ml), it represents the average 300 litres that Israelis consume daily. If you fill it to the middle line (167 ml), it means the amount of water the World Health Organization recommends per person daily. Filled only to the bottom line (117 ml), you see the average amount of water Israel allows for Palestinians in the West Bank.

The cup lacks traditional measurement values, reflecting that many Palestinians must constantly calculate the remaining amount of water because rooftop water tanks are refilled irregularly. Navigating this water apartheid, Palestinians have to think: “If I take a shower now and do the dishes, can I still wash my clothes as well?”

Measuring inequality was born during our create-shop in 2015.

Further reading: Water insecturity or Water apartheid? by the Slow Factory [Instagram post]

Palestinian Natural Resources: The Occupation Benefits and Palestinians Pay The Price by Michael Jabareen’ [infographic in PDF]

Targeted Environment: The Effects of Israeli Occupation on The Palestinian Environment [infographic in PDF]

Design

Mirte Van Duppen (NL)

Helen Underhill

Production

Jaba Glass Factory (PS)

Glass

26 x Ø 6 cm

[borderlandsresearcher]

MK1 Girlies x Reader:

What She Smells Like 🪷

WOMEN LOVERS COME GET Y'ALL FOOD!!!

CW: suggestive, mentions of polyamory, gn reader, not proofread.

(A/N @ the bottom)

Kitana

-lotus flower, cherry blossom, rose

* Kitana's fragrance is a comforting mixture of various native Edenian plants, as she spends most of her free time frolicking in the palace gardens. Every night she is greeted with a warm, steaming bath, littered with petals from her favourite flower. She loves nothing more than soaking in the essences of her homeland, feeling connected to both herself and nature.

* When she's on duty serving her sister, the leather from her armour overwhelmingly distracts from her natural scent. She found a way to kombat this by leaving small flowers in her pockets and spritzing on the perfume she made between each break.

* When you're not around, she misses your scent more than anything. She'll steal one of your shirts and cuddle with it until she falls asleep. She has gotten too used to you being around, and it devastates her everytime you leave.

* Because of this, you leave behind a bottle of your perfume for Kitana each time you know you will be gone for a long period of time. She is slightly embarrassed when she finds out you know about her habits, but is grateful for your thoughtfulness.

Mileena

-dark cherry

* Smells like you/Tanya let's be honest

* She tries her best to maintain a consistent scent by using various products, ranging from perfumes to body creams to lip gloss!

* Her scent may be a little overwhelming at times, but with the amount of running around she does it tends to wear off throughout the day.

* She sweats quite often, especially during training. Neither you or Tanya seem to mind, expressing that you both love her no matter how smelly she is after training 😆

Sindel

-lavender, sage

* She bathes in various flowers, similar to Kitana.

* During the mourning period of her late husband, she would burn many plants in his honour. She did this so often that the smoke would rub off on her, following her throughout the day.

* When she's feeling down, she allows her daughters to braid flowers into her hair, the aroma complimenting her feminine aura.

* Just like Kitana , she craves your scent whenever you aren't around.

* When Jerrod returns as Ermac, she is overjoyed. She now gets to revel in the warmth of her lovers, appreciating each of your unique scents.

Li Mei

-lavender

* Li Mei learned all of her beauty tips from Sindel, including proper perfume application.

* Sindel gifted her with a vial of lavender perfume from her personal collection for her to sneak into the Umgadi inner sanctum, although she never used it ...

* That was until she was disgraced, and she deeply missed the smell of her empress. She wore it as frequently as possible, and as she climbed her way up the ranks to First Constable, she was able to afford as many bottles of liquid lavender as she desired.

* To you, it was simply the scent she enjoyed. But to her, it was a reminder to whom she serves, and the memories she had lost along the way.

Tanya

-Almond, vanilla, coconut

*The Umgadi are strict on cleanliness, but not so much on luxuries such as perfumes or scented creams. It borders on the line of vanity, which they frown upon. Fortunately, Edenian women tend to value their hair above any other beauty aspect, a trend indirectly started by Empress Sindel.

*The Umgadi embrace this tradition, and allow for the sisters to indulge in frequent haircare, as long as it does not distract from their duties.

*Tanya takes advantage of this. She not only wants to look, but to smell good for both you and Mileena. She works scented oils into her hair, perhaps a bit more than what she actually needs, but anything to make an impression on her lovers. And if you're lucky enough to get some alone time together, she'll let you do it for her, as well as returning the favour.

*Begins to smell like you/Mileena if she's around you long enough.

Ashrah

-dragons blood, rose

* Demons emit a strong musk depending on their mood.

* When she's happy, she'll smell of dragons blood and roses, which is the one you are most accustomed to, seeing as your presence brings her joy.

* When sad, she smells of rain and moss. It is your least favourite scent for this reason...

* When she's lustful, she'll smell of cinnamon and other spices. You and Syzoth are the only ones to have witnessed such a scent.

Nitara

-blood orange, amber

* Despite what you may think, Vaternians care quite a bit about the way they smell, as they are always seeking a potential mate.

* Although, these scents will usually consist of things that attract their own kind, such as human blood.

* But for you? She goes the extra mile. Bathing herself with citrus, spending the few coins she has on exotic Sun Do spices to rub into her clothes, and even changing her diet to animal blood as to not attract others. You are the only mate she desires.

Khameleon

-Tea tree, peppermint, coconut

* Like Tanya, she takes advantage of this loophole. Before she met you, she never really paid attention to how she smelled. The only requirement was that she was clean and presentable in the eyes of the royal family.

* When the two of you started seeing each other, she started to notice little things she normally wouldn't in other people. Your scent, the way you breathe, the way your heart beats fast when she lay on your chest during those rare private moments-- she noticed it all.

* All she wanted was for you to see her the way she sees you, so she goes to Tanya for advice. Now, the girls pamper their hair together, giving each other knowing looks as they do so.

🪷🪷🪷🪷🪷🪷🪷🪷🪷🪷🪷🪷🪷🪷🪷🪷

A/N: Hope this was alright, lemme know your thoughts and whether you agree with my choices or not!!! I am open to constructive criticism :)

[herbgerblin]

i think the ask i just sent got ate so i will resend: taz tlt au??? :0 taako the necomancer and lup the cav or vice versa... whatever u feel in ur heart... otherwise i AM v interested in your gideon and harrow designs. mayhaps a little dulcinea

Ginny, this one was hard, I was sitting on it for days!! I couldn't decide who would be what. I realized I just really wanted to entertain "what if they were both necromancers?" first, so I will jump on those thoughts and if I have more about either or both of them as cavaliers I will make a follow-up (I also haven't landed on a Dulcinea design yet but I will keep u posted.) ID is in alt.

Taako | Bone Magic (Marrow) | Specialty: Organic Matrices

I think his interest in transmutation could translate to adeptness in living bone tissue, which is considerably more flexible and spongey than dead bone. Defensive capabilities include rapid bone growth and hardened cartilage. Offensive capabilities include severing nerves and fibrous tissue, inhibiting calcification, and malformed blood production. He'd be well-studied in mineralization and organic matrices (making fancy bone structures.) He has a bone hat, a hat with bones. Some of them are just decorations but you never know which :) He keeps several in stasis because he needs them to be fresh.

Lup | Flesh Magic (Blood) | Specialty: Circulatory Flow

I think her interest in evocation could translate to adeptness in cardiac conduction and thermoregulation. Defensive capabilities include conducting electricity to restart a failing heart and decreasing oxygen demand in low-oxygen environments. Offensive capabilities include restricting blood flow, forcing blood to pool in specific areas, or inducing hypothermia. She would also be well-studied in metabolic processes and hormone distribution (important!!) She has a cool cardiovascular tattoo on her back and arms (I was too sleepy to draw most of the lines don’t @ me.) And she carries vials of different blood types on a belt because you never know when you need blood :) :) :)

[painonthebrain]

Unaware

Whumptober Day 19: One way out

Masterlist

Content: Lab whump, sedated/unconscious whumpee, explicit surgical procedure, vivisection, noncon body modification, stripping whumpee while unconscious, nonsexual nudity, noncon touch, dehumanization, scientifically inaccurate/fantastical medical procedure

As Saul lays unconscious with the beeping of monitors and the hum of the surgical equipment surrounding him, the world grows small and sharp, focused. The environment becomes so much more productive than before. More streamlined. No longer is there a man before Dr. Greyson, but a living thing that looks like one, has the anatomy of one, breathes and has a pulse just like one. A subject.

Mechanical arms power on at her command, precise and ready to cut him apart, expose his insides, slimy and inky-blue.

Dr. Greyson readies a video feed to archive footage of the surgery, making sure the angle is perfect, the image crystal-clear.

Screens surround her with different images and graphs, vitals and data that will supplement her work, all glowing brilliantly blue, illuminating her and her subject with their icy glow.

There’s only one way out now. Only one way he’ll get out of here alive. An objective not even he is aware of.

Survive the surgery.

Dr. Greyson cuts away his uniform first. Her silvery scissors glint as she does, the motion swift and familiar, knowing. She drags away the unwanted fabric, discarding it. It will be sanitized and recycled later. (After all, nothing here should go to waste.)

She barely blinks at his naked body before her, not even giving it a second thought. It’s all flesh and blood, bones and organs to her, the content of anatomy textbooks.

Machines ready, she starts up the vivisection process, typing in a quick keyword to initiate it. The mechanical arms whirr and click ever so slightly as they move into position, barely audible, and a scan runs over his body, mapping out where to make incisions, a half-second flash of glimmering blue light that disappears as quickly as it made its presence known, passing over his body.

One arm lasers away his body hair until his skin is bare and smooth where they need to make the cuts, another changes its tip to a blade as it does, beginning to slice the skin after the other arm finishes.

The blade goes into his flesh easily, and blue wells up where it touches, creating a dark, shiny line across his chest and stomach. An additional set of arms help pry apart his skin as the knife cuts deeper, plunging through the layers of fat and skin.

Once it’s finished, one pins the skin back into place, leaving the ribs and his organs exposed. The scene is slightly lewd, wet and fleshy and slightly pulsing like insides usually do… and he’s all exposed and left so vulnerably open — however Valeria and her machines handle it with the unflinching accuracy and coldness only a Rigorian surgeon or their tech could have.

He doesn’t even stir, his only movements are the involuntary ones laid out for all to see. His hearts beating. His lungs shrinking and growing with every breath. The swell of his stomach following each inhale. All measured and recorded for posterity.

Dr. Greyson changes the machines’ procedures to a more custom set, the one made specifically for her experiments, and the machines follow her commands fluidly, transitioning into the experimental procedure without so much as a hiccup.

With a click, three of the arms change their tips to nozzles, panels in their sides opening to reveal empty glass tubes. Dr. Greyson fetches the vials with the specimen inside and loads the panels up. They click shut automatically after she does, stationary until each is filled, and then they return to working on him.

As they position themselves where they ought to be (his heart and on either side of his lungs), Dr. Greyson checks her subject’s vitals.

Stable…

Wonderful.

She watches closely as they pump his body full of the specimen, making sure it stays confined to his innards.

It should be fine, considering the modifications the biotechnologists have made to the specimen’s mental faculties and biological processes. Once it bonds with her subject’s tissue, it shouldn’t be able to rid itself of him — and vice versa.

It merges quite well, melting into his chest, squirming between his ribs and seeping into his serosa, making itself right at home. The screens before her show the very percentage of their coalescence, the number slowly creeping towards 100%.

It finally reaches completion, and the only change is the stained appearance of his internal organs, the slimy, desaturated blacks and greys clinging to his insides.

Good. The operation is now two-thirds of the way through.

Dr. Greyson manually moves the pumps away from his chest and torso, now-empty, dripping with remnants of the black goo. The tips recede back into the arms, self-cleaning – Valeria taps in the code for them to start sealing Saul’s body up, idly monitoring the machines, relaying her observations onto a screen. Her notes glow, reflecting against the surface of her glasses while the machines do their work, sealing his body up. 

He shouldn’t have so much as a scar left afterwards.

… Shouldn’t have.

The skin parts after it’s sealed. The specimen’s ooze leaks through the cracks as the skin parts, resisting the seal.

Dr. Greyson’s gaze hardens. Fuck. She’ll have to take this at a different angle.

Instead of beating a dead horse, she decides to go in herself, readying her tools to stitch him up.

The needle and thread go in easily, and come out caked in slime, filthy. The synthetic thread holds together though, and soon Dr. Greyson is able to tie it off, manually cleaning and disinfecting the area.

As she does, the skin on his chest darkens, turning dark and muck-colored. When she touches it, it gives, softer than skin normally should be.

She’s so glad she’s recording this.

Verbally putting down her notes, she probes his body, examining him.

“Subject continues to be stable after needing stitches. The self-administered mastectomy scarring is unaffected by leakage. Subject’s body and internal organs are considerably discolored. Subject’s skin in the thorax area –” she gives his chest another press, testing how much give it has, pulling her hands away when it dips under her touch like slime – “has a considerable amount of give.” She presses again, making sure she can feel his bones. “Ribcage is intact, however.”

“Specimen seems to have integrated with no offensive side effects. Subject remains unconscious.”

She disposes of her dirty gloves and snaps on new ones the moment her hands are bare.

“The surgery appears to be a success… I am entering the subject into the recovery phase now.”

He made it.

[the-ravens-requiem]

1 – Craft

There was a saying that Doctor heard once. ‘Idle hands are the devil’s workshop.’

Doctor liked to keep busy for this reason. There was no virtue in constant productivity, of course, but there was something of a nagging ache in their chest when sitting idle for too long. Like they were wasting time – time borrowed --No, stolen. Wrenched from the hands of countless others, a fact that Doctor would never forget.

So it was that Doctor often took up various hobbies. Something to occupy their sleepless nights, something to keep their hands working even when most of the world was asleep. They’d gotten decent at a few things; Paper-crafts, bookbinding, embroidery. Tailoring, flower-arranging, crocheting. Calligraphy, painting, woodworking…Just to name a few.

The newest endeavor that Doctor had undertaken was basket-weaving. It was both a simple, repetitive task and a complex artistic challenge. Utilitarian, as well – The baskets served their purpose in the shop, displaying dried flowers and herbs, vials of medicines and bottles of potions.

The first few attempts had been a delightful failure, of course, but that was part of the joy. The foundation of learning a new skill was built upon these failures, after all. Each mistake a new stone set, brick by brick until a brilliant spark of experience rendered a new plateau of challenges feasible to overcome.

Maybe that’s what Doctor really liked about these hobbies. The struggle – sore and tired hands shaking and trembling with fatigue. The triumph of another project completed. Sitting back after a long session to gaze upon their work, improving with each attempt. It was a tangible, lovely thing. A physical representation of time spent well. Something to keep them going, even amidst their tireless work. And it was soothing, too.

Sitting upon their chair by the crackling fire, contained by the fireplace fashioned from old stones from the lake nearby, the warm orange glow casting strange flickering shadows over the shelves lined with books and trinkets in remembrance of their many travels.

This was the closest thing to peace.

[adinathinternationalindia]

Vial Liquid Filling Line

Vial Liquid Filling Line (Injectable liquid line) including vial production line consist of washing, sterilizing, liquid filling, cap sealing and labeling machine for filling injectable vials. All machines aligned together to work as one complete system. Our range consist Semi-Automatic Vial Liquid Filling Line as well as Automatic Vial Filling Line. In Automatic Lines conveyors of each machine connected with each other for untouched automatic operations hence it is also called Fully Automatic Vial Liquid Filling Line.

[crushedsweets]

if nina could make a product of literally anything, what would it be?

i assume it would be something fashion-wise but i’m not sure

mmmmm.... i agree she'd probably lean into something fashion-wise, but im specifically thinking jewelry or heels!!! i could see her wanting to make lines of necklaces and earrings with little weapons and fake vials of blood and stuff like that.

yall know cybersigilism tattoos? i dont know if theres a name for it, but she'd make jewelry/shoes with that sort of vibe!! silver/black, shiny, sharp.

then probably a few gold lockets and stuff . . . for she is a lovergirl at heart . . . mmm... im just imagining a little jewelry/shoe line for her rn

[covid-safer-hotties]

Also preserved on our archive

By Adeola Adeosun

Amidst a resurgence of COVID-19 cases across the United States, pharmaceutical company Gilead Sciences, Inc. has announced a voluntary recall of its antiviral drug Veklury, commonly known as remdesivir, in cooperation with the U.S. Food & Drug Administration (FDA).

The recall comes after the discovery of glass particles in vials of the medication, raising concerns about patient safety at a time when the drug's importance in treating severe COVID-19 cases is once again being underscored.

The affected lot, identified as 47035CFA, was distributed nationwide in the United States beginning July 16, 2024. This FDA-monitored recall coincides with data from the U.S. Centers for Disease Control and Prevention (CDC) showing high levels of COVID-19 viral activity in wastewater across the country, despite a recent decrease in positive cases.

As of September 13, the CDC reports that while overall viral activity in wastewater has been demoted from "very high" to "high," 21 states still show "very high" levels, particularly in the West. Sixteen states exhibit "high" levels, eight are classed as "moderate," and only Michigan and Rhode Island show "low" levels. New York stands out with "minimal" levels, the lowest classification.

The recall of Veklury comes at a critical juncture in the pandemic's trajectory. While positive tests now account for 14.9 percent of all COVID tests (excluding at-home testing) in the U.S., down 1.6 percent from the previous week, the emergence of new subvariants has kept health officials on high alert.

According to Gilead's risk statement, the administration of Veklury which contains glass particles could lead to a range of complications, from local irritation to potentially life-threatening situations if particles enter the bloodstream and cause blockages in vital organs.

Veklury has been a key tool in treating COVID-19 since its FDA approval in October 2020. It is indicated for use in both hospitalized patients and those with mild-to-moderate COVID-19 who are at high risk for disease progression.

The recall affects the lyophilized form of Veklury in single-dose clear glass vials containing 100 mg of remdesivir in powder form. Gilead has reported no adverse events related to this recall to date but is taking proactive measures to mitigate risks.

This recall also comes as the U.S. grapples with a new class of COVID-19 subvariants nicknamed FLiRT. As of August 31, the dominant subvariant, KP.3.1.1, accounted for more than 50 percent of all U.S. COVID-19 cases over the previous two weeks, with FLiRT variants collectively responsible for over 80 percent of cases.

While these new variants appear more infectious, they generally do not cause such severe symptoms. However, the CDC continues to monitor for common symptoms including fever, cough, shortness of breath, fatigue, and loss of taste or smell.

Healthcare facilities possessing the recalled Veklury are urged to cease use immediately and return the product. Gilead has established a dedicated information line at 1-866-633-4474 for those seeking details about the recall.

Patients with concerns about their COVID-19 treatment are advised to consult their healthcare providers, and any adverse reactions can be reported to the FDA's MedWatch Adverse Event Reporting program.

[strayshornystuff]

An incident with… portals?

A knock on the door. It was those damn kids again, ding dong ditching again. During my episode with Mr. Slimey, who was safely stoppered in his little vial on my coffee table, with tape on the cork, those kids had decided to spray paint the door to my apartment, the brats. I’d never even seen them in person, but I heard them as they bolted off, laughing. I slowly walked to the door, hoping to catch them out by standing right next to the door. *Knock knock* “GOTCHa oh hi sorry are you okay?” Instead of a small child I saw the delivery man, jumping at my exclamation and falling on his arse, looking up with blood-filled cheeks. I quickly reached out to help him up, but before I could even apologise properly, he just looked at me sympathetically and said, “Those kids again?”

“Yeah,” I respond, “If you’ve seen my door, that was them.”

“Far out-” he vaguely gestured at the door “-they’re pretty good at drawing dicks for random kids…”

“Tell me about it.”

“Well, any case this is for you!” He scooped up the package that had fallen on the ground, and placed it in my arms. “Hope you can get someone for the door soon!”

“Thanks!” I call after him, and then I turn back in to my apartment.

I gently put the box down on the table, grab my kitchen shears, and look carefully at the cardboard cube in front of me. It was larger than the one the silver little devil had come in, but looked the same in every other way. I figured that I ought to get the matter over with, and so the tape was sliced, and the flaps opened. Inside were two plastic circles, each with a sticky, glue on the back, like on wall hooks. And on both of them, on the non-sticky side, were glowing holes, one with a blue glow, and the other with an orange glow. Except something didn’t look quite right…

I took each of the circles out of the box, and placed one on the table, while I kept the other in my hand. And when I looked through the table portal, I could see myself from where the other one was. I looked back and forth, mesmerised by the fact that I had legitimate portals, in my hands. While looking back and forth, I noticed a piece of paper in the box, with a couple of short lines of text on it. Curious for its message, I snatch up the paper, and read.

Congratulations! You have received our newly made portal product from our sci-fi toy line as part of your subscription! The portals have a range of about 200 km of perfect, seamless connection, and will not generate any undesired effects, such as collapse, cancer, or other crippling conundrums, no matter what you stick in the hole, or how long you do so. To change the size, flick the lock switch, place your hands on the portal walls, or the walls of the circle, and squeeze/pull to desired size! The rest is up to you to find out! Not responsible for any damage or harm caused through great misuse. To cancel your subscription at any time, message our customer service number at 04XX XXX XXX

I could hardly believe it. They had censored their customer service number, in a box that contained a wormhole. Even if it was stable, I needed to know who was sending me these. And secondly, this was considered a toy? Does that make Mr. Slippery slimey aphrodisiac mercury over there… a toy as well? And the word ‘line’… was there more of these toys? It was too much to wrap my head around, I couldn’t. I slumped down on the couch, and drifted off to sleep, my head spinning from everything…

…zzz…

I felt so good… someone was eating me out from behind, and they were good… I felt so fuzzy… I felt obligated to stimulate them, but there was already an ass in my face, I was already going to town on them… oh my… what was that glow on their skin? I tore away for a moment, looking up… and was greeted by the back of my own head raising at the same time, in front of me, as the pleasure paused for me, for them, for me again…

By the time I woke up, it was already… 1930? I’d slept through most of the afternoon, it seemed. I sat up, and immediately my eyes fell on the portals again. I blushed, thinking of the dream I’d just had. I placed one hand over my crotch, feeling overexposed, and recoiled when I felt myself completely soaked. My heart was fluttery, I was this wet, and the portals were just there… my hallway was about the right width… “should I?” Was the question I asked myself, only realising that it had been said aloud after the fact. I mustered up the courage, and grabbing the portals, moved over to my hallway. I grabbed a towel from the bathroom along the way, as well as a dildo (the one normal toy I seemed to own), and placed it under my feet once I was where I would do this.

Slowly, I stripped, peeling off my soaked pants, lifting off my hoodie, until I stood there naked, the air frigid against my lustful skin. I picked up the portals, sticking them on the walls, and pushing my hands against the walls of the portal, stretching it until I could have probably crawled through without much resistance, before finally locking their size. I took a deep breath. One small step, pull the other leg through, and my butt was snugly through the portal behind me, poking cutely through the wall in front atop my legs. Bracing myself with my hips against the portal walls, I leaned forward and buried my face into myself. Simultaneously, I let out a small yelp as I felt the same face touch my own butt, warm and soft. I looked up for a moment, before complimenting the me in front.

“Such a cute butt… be good for me…” my voice stretching forward, as the sound reached me from behind, sending a shiver down my eager body.

I took another deep breathe, and started gently licking, lubing myself up for later. It was a struggle to consistently hit the areas that made me feel good, but by the time my tongue had slipped inside of me, I had gotten pretty good at forcing sighs out of myself between dives. I kept going, harder, faster, wetter, more, ohh, ahh, AH! My legs trembled as I came, fluids leaking out of me, my brain only knowing pleasure and the command to keep going that the dopamine rush demanded. That was the first, soon it happened again, and a third time, my brain slowly melting, diving in, forgetting to breathe.

I was wet enough now for the dildo. I reached down, picking up its length, and gently started rubbing its tip against my hole. I had played with myself before, but for some reason, the sensation was just that much stronger. Maybe my brain couldn’t understand it was my own doing to myself. I could barely muster the courage to penetrate myself, but once I did, it slipped in with no resistance at all, sliding deeper, until it was up in my guts. I moaned as the wave of pleasure swept over me, engulfing my thoughts and forcing them all down toward my dripping, needy hole. Before I knew it, the toy was sliding in and out of me, my body moving automatically, understanding its task. For hours, I stayed like that, fucking myself over, and over, harder and deeper, until eventually, my memory faded into a fuzzy mess…

I woke up slumped over the portal edge, with the towel underneath me soaked and my legs dead. I reached for my phone, and saw that about a couple of hours had passed since I had started. How long I had been passed out exactly, I couldn’t tell, just knowing that I had fucked myself unconscious, and might be doing so in the future~

Hello reader! I randomly remembered that portals have some uses, and decided I might write this short story to think of how it might play out. Though, I think portals are best used when there are more people involved than just me… oh well. Hope you enjoyed reading, let me know any ideas of yours, or critique for what I might do better, and see y’all next time! :3

[ignitedfms]

Massive Heist Busted by United Authorities, Curfew Imposed in Sora District

𝐔𝐍𝐍 (𝐔𝐧𝐢𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐍𝐞𝐰𝐬 𝐍𝐞𝐭𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤) - 𝐀𝐮𝐠𝐮𝐬𝐭, 𝟐𝟒𝟎𝟓

New Jakarta, Mars – In an unprecedented operation, THE OVERSEERS today disrupted a high-stakes heist involving a significant quantity of the highly sought-after drug, NEMESIS. The drug, notorious for its temporary enhancement of strength, durability, speed, and healing, has long been at the centre of the city’s black market. However, this latest incident has escalated concerns to an all-time high. According to official reports, a gang rumoured to be the THE SKELETON CREW infiltrated a secure production facility and made off with large quantities of NEMESIS. Authorities have not disclosed the exact amount stolen, but sources within the investigation describe it as “enough to flood the underground market for months.” The drug offers short-lived enhancements but carries severe risks with frequent use, including physical deformities and irreversible health issues. In response to this bold theft, the SORA DISTRICT has been placed under a strict 11PM curfew, effective immediately. Officials claim the measure is necessary to protect residents, though rumours are swirling that those with enough wealth and influence might find ways to circumvent these restrictions. The curfew has sparked outrage among some citizens, while others are relieved by the increased security presence in their district. The heist’s execution has also raised alarms in the MAWAR DISTRICT, where public transportation systems are now under intense scrutiny. Speculation is rife that the gang utilised these networks to conduct their operation, slipping through the cracks of New Jakarta’s tightly monitored infrastructure. As a result, transit authorities have ramped up surveillance, leading to widespread delays and frustrations among commuters. Members of the THE ISLES, in particular are in danger of being mistaken for THE SKELETON CREW. Adding to the tension, an underground racing bust in the AKUMU SLUMS has led to the detention of the area’s most notorious street racer, known only by the alias SHATTERSTAR. Sources indicate that this arrest is connected to the broader investigation into THE GREY LILLIES, though details remain scarce. The AKUMU SLUMS, already rife with unrest, are now on edge as residents grapple with the implications of SHATTERSTAR’S capture and the increased presence in OVERSEERS. Authorities urge anyone with information to come forward, emphasizing the urgency of capturing those responsible before more Nemesis floods the streets. The city’s black market has long been a thorn in the side of New Jakarta’s leaders, and this latest incident only underscores the ongoing battle to maintain order in a city where the lines between law and chaos are increasingly blurred. Stay tuned to UNN for updates as this story develops.

SIDENOTE:

While UNN remains tight-lipped about certain details, sources close to the investigation have revealed that the NEMESIS vials were stolen from a facility linked to X ACADEMY. This connection raises questions about the involvement of high-profile figures within New Jakarta's elite circles. In a parallel move, the elusive GOLDEN TEARS have been dispatched to extract information about the drug's location from the SKELETON CREW. The tension between these factions is palpable, and the stakes are higher than ever as the city buzzes over these recent events.

OOC INFORMATION:

Welcome to our first mini-event and the kickoff for opening interactions! We hope this plot drop sparks inspiration for your open starters, exclusive threads, and unleashes the tension between your muses! Your characters can dive into the chaos—whether they’re part of the heist, caught in the racing bust, defying the curfew, frustrated by the delays in public transportation, or mourning the absence of SHATTERSTAR from the streets!

IC DATE: 3rd week of August, 2405 OOC DATE: 15th of August - end date to be announced PARTICIPATION: mandatory! THREADS OUTSIDE OF EVENT: allowed!

[melodyofthevoid]

Bodies are Business and Business is Good

Tw: blood, torture, amputation, etc. (It’s Heather) 

Word Count: 3,326

There were fewer things more satisfying, Heather thought, than the slight hiss of the gas lamp in her work office.

A frankly wonderful modern invention, much more controlled than simple wax candles and less likely to blow out at a moment’s notice when she had her back turned or was in the middle of delicate work. Natural light wasn’t exactly an option, not here. And her clients tended to demand their money’s worth.

Plus, it was so nice to listen to the small intake of breath when her victims realized she was there. And the narrowing of their eyes as she became fully visible.

She turned the key and struck a match, blinking as her own eyes adjusted to the light, bouncing off of the thick carved stone and cast iron tools lining the walls. The vials and jars just waiting to be filled. And, shining off of the few exposed scales of the exhausted mer panting and strapped to her operation table.

As expected, they flinched when she descended the stairs, pulling at the restraints with all of their might. Clearly not enough, but a valiant effort.

“Apologies for the delay, but since you so stubbornly held onto your disguise, it put a damper on my evening plans the other day. I’m sure you must be thirsty.”

The angel fish snarled, flaring their bright yellow tail and thrashing harder, their scales– iridescent– bright blues, yellows and greens that would make for excellent amulets or accessories.

She made a note to get more leather and wire for the necklaces. Accessories sold well. Not as well as her other products, but well enough. A status symbol to those who were in the know.

“Fuck off- you- you-”

“Bitch? Monster? I’m sure I’ve heard it before. Believe me, I have.”

A well in the back, hidden by a few boxes, caught her victim’s eye as she walked over to it, grabbing a nearby bucket and pumping it full. Saltwater smell filled the air, overpowering the metallic tang of Heather’s tools.

The mer eyed the bucket, thrashing less as she approached. Ah, good. Maybe this one would be cooperative. Or somewhat more cooperative.

“Actually… Before we get started, and I let you have this, I have a simple question for you. Do you happen to know the location of any other mermaid colonies? You don’t have to tell me all of them, just one or two.”

Any relief that the mer–oh what was their name again? It didn’t really matter, the mer’s relief vanished, eyes narrowing to slits and their fins flaring out.

“Tell you- no. Fuck you. You and your dog won’t get your hands on any more mer- not if I can help it.”

“Well, you’re right about one thing, he is something of a dog, look at you.”

She ran a hand along their tail, ghosting over the gashes that lined it. Wounds that’d barely scabbed over during transport. Other bruises and scratches marred their skin and fins. Heather scowled. Charles was new, but that didn’t excuse abject incompetence.

This would put something of a dent in what she could sell. Charles would be compensated accordingly.

“I told him minimal damage, and yet here you are. Can’t even follow basic directions right. But I digress. If you won’t offer what I need, there’s no sense in dragging this out.”

Heather mulled over where to start, eyeing her knives and branding rods. Carving took longer, but risked too much thrashing for a clean cut. Fins, for all of their use, tore rather easily if not handled properly.

Morro —ah, right that was their name— looked to be healthy enough that draining them first wouldn’t end in them bleeding out entirely.

The needle it was then.

“Now where did I put it… ah, here it is.”

She hummed under her breath, pulling out three glass jars, and her needle, cleaning off the point of it and eyeing Morro’s exposed forearms. A good thing that they were tense already. That certainly made things easier.

A particularly exposed vein on their right arm made for the perfect target and Heather couldn’t help the shiver that went down her spine as the metal slid into the skin, flesh giving way to the needle’s piercing point. So satisfying.

Immediately crimson blood filled the glass tank of the gun, flowing down to the tube and filling up the first jar. The lifeblood of her operation, so to speak. So many customers, all vying for that most viscous and vital of her products. And who was she to deny them when she was living testimony of its efficacy?

Of course she’d never give away all her trade secrets for her longevity. She wasn’t born yesterday.

Or even within the last half century.

In any case, the blood flowed easily, and already one jar gleamed with it. Full to the brim. Switching one out for the other, Heather placed it off on a table, taking a moment to admire the flicker of the gas lamp light against the glass and crimson. Perhaps one day she’d find some other substance, a gemstone, a resin, something that could capture the beauty of her craft.

She doubted it though.

With a second jar nearly filled, Morro’s skin showed the effects. Ashy, almost clammy in places. Their gaze unfocused and any attempts at thrashing much weaker than before. Reaching the limits of what they could give today.

Heather switched out the jars one last time, watching the stream slowly taper off as their breathing slowed down and body relaxed against their will. For their trouble, she poured some of the sea water in the bucket over them, giving them a pat on the shoulder as she extracted the needle from their vein and bandaged the wound. Some blood sluggishly seeping through the gauze.

“You,” Morro slurred, “you’ll pay for this. Indra will hunt you for the rest of your days.”

“Mmm, is that so? Tell me, how long do you think I’ve done this work?”

Her captive didn’t respond. Only glaring with bared fangs.

“Believe me, if your goddess really gave a damn, I’d think she’d have taken notice by now. I’m not going anywhere, and for the time being? Neither are you.”

“The debt will be paid- MHMPH!”

Heather tied the gag tighter, rolling her eyes.

“That’s enough out of you. I’ll spare myself the usual theatrics. Feel free to still scream though, I don’t mind. You’ll give me what I want either way.”

Finally, Heather could get to the real work.

Choosing the right knife to start with always proved to be the most taxing part of the work. She’d tried typical fish scalers in the past, but those were better suited for the fishmongers and fresh markets. The scales she worked with required more work than that. But on the other hand, using the back of the wrong knife chipped and damaged the scales, and no one wanted to buy half a scale.

Heather’s fingers danced along the different blades, intermittently picking one up, twirling it, feeling the heft and then setting it back down, moving on to the next one. Eventually she settled on her favorite, a long curving blade, sturdy and sharp. Tempered steel reflecting her own dark gaze back at her.

Starting from the base of the tail, as she’d done a thousand times before, she wedged the back end of it underneath the first line of scales, and pushed upwards.

The previously limp mermaid jerked up, a muffled yelp coming from beneath the gag. Of course, Morro barely possessed the strength to so much as twitch. Too tired to fully put up a fight, but Heather tightened the straps on their tail anyway. With that secure, she continued pushing up, the shining iridescent angelfish scales now tinted red at the base as they fell to the floor below. They’d be cleaned and polished later.

Despite the gag, Heather winced as the mer tried to shriek, to throw her off through the only means they had left. Admirable if it weren’t so annoying. She took a step back and stood back up, towering over her prey. Cooing with a voice as sickly sweet as she could make it.

“Oh relax, this isn’t even the worst part. But we can get to that if you want. It might make this seem pleasant in comparison. How does that sound?”

Morro shook their head, but she’d already flipped her blade around and dug it into the membrane of the main tail fin, slicing through with no resistance. The bright yellow would make for a lovely trophy for the right buyer.

It was a little too bright for her tastes though. It clashed with the decor.

Hitching breaths came from above, strained and hissing through clenched teeth. The poor thing was trying to keep themself calm even with the gag. She laughed, cutting through the dorsal and pectoral fins next, setting them aside to dry.

Muffled moans and cries left Morro and Heather checked their cheeks to see if there were tears. A frustratingly rare commodity. Not that they did anything but clients always wanted them. By all means she could just sell some sea water, but she had standards.

She clicked her tongue to see that there were no tears. A shame.

With the last of the fins removed, Heather spun her knife back around and continued peeling away the scales, with far less reaction this time, which was also in and of itself a shame. She liked the fight so long as she could still do her job. Heather’d done Morro a mercy if anything. After an amputation, pulling a few scales probably felt like nothing. Like pulling nails off of a hand freshly devoid of a few fingers.

Sometimes though, the sudden lack of fight signaled an end to that night’s session. Ignoring her subjects too much could be costly.  Brushing the last few whole scales into a second bucket, Heather stood back up, examining her work.

Morro was slumped over, exhausted from the strain and blood loss. Wiping any excess off of her knife on her apron, Heather did her usual checks, pulse, reflex, breathing, etc. They were still alive, which meant that she’d get at least a few more pints out of them by the time they eventually kicked the bucket. It’d be such a waste if she only got one day’s worth.

They’d hold out longer than that, she’d make sure of it.

With a sigh, she got out her needle and thread, stitching up the gashes Charles left and cleaning out the wounds. Bandaging up the stump near the tail. No infections, and no potential loss. The blood was no good from a dead mer.

As much as she liked the final processing steps, she still had other orders to fulfill, and going out of her way to catch another prospect? A waste of her time and resources. Nothing wasted, not if she could help it. 

Her hairnet came off, as did the gloves and apron, all placed in their proper places far enough away that any nearby officers couldn’t smell the fresh blood on her. She needed to replace the shirt though. Again. The price she paid for wearing white.

Ah well, no skin off her back. She disposed of any evidence once or twice a year. Fireplaces served a variety of uses.  

A quick shower and a change of clothes left Heather feeling far more accomplished and relaxed now that the euphoria of her work had passed. There was a certain… thrill to it, to the slice of flesh under her knife. But getting lost in that feeling led to less than precise work. In less vials of blood and damage to the organs she needed to sell later. So, for the sake of her own work, she had to take breaks. Balance was key, and experience taught her well.

Maybe for the evening she could fully unwind with some luxury time. She’d just have to find that bottle of wine and those chocolates she’d been saving.

The glasses were in the cabinet of her office, so here was hoping that there weren’t any last minute visitors. She’d had enough business for the day.

Though as she entered the room from the back, she sighed. No such luck.  

A certain red-haired captain stood in the main lobby, smoking a cigar. Blowing rings of smoke into the air with his usual air of disinterest. Odd, he’d delivered her fresh supply not even a year and a half ago. Confusion outweighed her irritation at the intrusion. For now.

“To what do I owe this visit, Captain?”

Fachnan exhaled, tapping the stray ash onto the floor. Sullying it.

Asshole.

“Ah, Heather. I was hoping you’d stay in that dungeon for a little while longer. I find it’s easier to take in your trophies without you drooling all over them. We were stopping here for a short time and well, I figured I’d drop by.”

“Mhm…sure.”

The twitch in Fachnan’s hand and dart of his eyes didn’t exactly scream “casual chat”.

“Why’re you really here, and make it quick. You’re getting ash all over my perfectly good carpet. I do try to keep an air of respectability here.”

“My apologies, your majesty, I’ll be sure to clean your lair to a shine.”

Heather’s jaw tensed, teeth close to grinding. Unnecessary stress meant unnecessary aging, deep breaths in, deep breaths out. She forced herself to relax, schooling her expression into neutral disdain.

“False deference doesn’t suit you, Captain. I’d get your nose off of the floor before I lose my patience.”

“Fine, fine. Since you’re in a hurry I’ll make it quick.”

Fachnan gestured wide, splaying himself across the couch in her office with all the grace and respect she’d come to expect. Letting out a sigh, Heather grabbed the first open bottle of wine she could find and poured some out. Counting down the minutes until he left.

“The reason for my visit is simple, I want to do you a favor.”

She arched her brow, sipping at her glass.

“You’ve just been a source of income for me, Lady of the Sea. Owe at least some of my success to you. I’ve got a tip you might be interested in, for a small price, of course. Can’t just give this sort of thing to any ametuer.”

Actively sending Charles out on another hunt before she could properly chastise him for damaging this merchandise? She’d pass.

Besides, she paid Fachnan for tangible work. If she threw her fortune any idiot who walked in promising a lead, she’d have exhausted her coiffers long ago. Her decades of experience were worth far more than what one measly captain thought he knew.

“Charming, but I’m not looking to take on another project or search for one at the moment. Frankly, I don't like drawing more attention to myself than necessary. You know how these new officers get, all bright eyed and full of belief in ‘law and order’. The guard’s changed in the past few years, and I’m not exactly looking to make any waves at present. The fewer bodies, the better.”

She sipped at her wine once more, mulling over the best way to politely but firmly tell Fachnan to fuck off. Alone time was calling her name like the sirens she cut to ribbons.

“Well that’s a shame. Here I thought you were interested in a shark mer. Guess not then.”

With an inhale, the wine went down her throat and Heather choked and coughed. It burned all the way up to her sinuses, but nothing compared to the spark of interest. Still catching her breath, she unlatched a compartment in the desk behind her, pulling out a sharpened knife and setting it on the wood beside her.

He could lie or take out his sword if he wanted, but her reputation spoke for itself. There’d be one winner here.

“I see I have your attention then,” he smirked, “I’ll admit, the gold was a bluff. This one’s on the house.”

“Bullshit. What do you want?”

“Fine, this mer in question is something of… a thorn in my side. You taking care of her would be doing me a service, Madame Butcher. She appears to be a hybrid, if that sweetens the deal.”

It did. Quite a bit in fact.

“And you’re sure about this?”

“Dead certain. Last saw her face off the coast of Paign. Goes by the name of Delta. About seven feet tall, blue fins, blue coat, she’s fairly hard to miss. Has a whole crew of mer from what I could tell.”

A whole crew… she let out a breath.

“No shit. Typically I don’t get in the middle of feuds, or do bounty work for that matter, but just this once? I think I can agree with that. In fact…”

Heather stood up, walking over to a mahogany cabinet, carved with intricate flowers and vines. An inherited piece, and not even a forced one. They’d handed it over after the funeral, which was well and good. Natural causes were less messy to deal with generally speaking. She pressed the central-most flower’s petals and the compartment toward the bottom opened up, shining vials revealed within it.

“A gift, to a valuable partner. For your health.”

She held out a crimson vial. Heart blood.

“I’d like to keep my more reliable freelancer at sea for a few more years.”

Seconds ticked by, and Fachnan shook his head, “No, like I said. This one’s free. I just want her gone.”

Pirates and their honor codes. She rolled her eyes and set the vial back into its case.

Although speaking of…

“By the way, how’s that associate of yours doing? Changed his tune yet? I know he’s got quite the reputation for finding what he’s looking for. I’d like to use his expertise.”

Deep lines set into Fachnan’s face as he glanced away. Shoulders lowered. His bravado evaporated leaving behind only bitter salt.

“He and I won’t be seeing each other any time soon, gods willing. My only hope is it was quick.”

Ah. So it was like that then.

“I see, I apologize. I’ve been rather busy as of late, haven’t kept up with the times. My condolences for your loss.”

He grit his teeth, expression darkening further.

“It was his decision. We parted ways some time ago. He knew the risks of going soft, and look where it got him.”

“Well, that is how it is sometimes. Connections come and connections go. Time stops for a lucky few.”

The dots weren’t hard to connect, as hard as Fachnan fought to keep his aloof persona intact. Whatever drama or series of events led to this, frankly she didn’t care. What mattered was her prize. He could mourn his lost flame all he wanted on his own time.

With the last of his cigar fully gone, Fachnan stared at the embers before standing up from the couch, lifting his chin to look down at her. She met his gaze with a smile every bit as sharp as her tools.

“I’ll be heading off then. Send word when you need my services again.”

“Oh I will, don’t you worry. Thank you for stopping by, your help is much appreciated.”

He didn’t respond, only turning for the door and leaving Heather alone with her wine and her thoughts. Her smile stretched wider across her face and she let out a laugh, growing in intensity as euphoria set in.

A shark. A shark hybrid.

Looked like she’d have to clear her schedule to ensure that this… Delta could get all the attention that Heather could offer. Get the care and quality work that she deserved as the future crown jewel of her collection.

Morro could be rest assured that their suffering would be brief. She had preparations to make.

[swappetf11]

Method Acting Pt 2.

As the sun dipped below the horizon on the final day of filming, the sense of urgency among the film crew escalated into quiet panic. Maria, the makeup artist, held the reversal potion tightly in her hand as she approached Azogar, who stood solitary against the stark alien landscape, embodying every bit the creature he had been portraying.

"Ethan, please," Maria implored, extending the vial towards him. "You need to drink this. It's not safe for you to stay like this. Think about everything you're leaving behind."

Azogar's response was a deep, rumbling sound that barely resembled Ethan's voice. "Azogar is home here. Ethan is no more."

Behind Maria, the director motioned urgently to the security team. Whispered instructions were given; the plan was to gently coerce Azogar into a secluded area of the set, away from any prying eyes or media cameras that might catch wind of the situation. They couldn't risk the public seeing their lead actor permanently transformed into a fictional creature.

The security team approached cautiously, forming a loose circle around Azogar. "We're just going to go somewhere a little more private," one of them tried to explain, a note of unease in his voice.

Azogar, sensing the tension, backed away, his animalistic instincts now dominating. "Azogar needs no protection," he declared, his gaze darting around as he assessed the situation.

In a desperate bid, Maria stepped closer, the vial outstretched in her trembling hand. "Ethan, if there's any part of you left in there, I’m begging you to take this. For all of us who care about you."

But as she stepped forward, Azogar's heightened reflexes triggered a swift movement. He swept the potion from her hand with a flick of his wrist, sending the vial shattering against the rocky ground. The luminous liquid seeped into the soil, lost forever.

The director signaled frantically, and the security team moved in, trying to restrain Azogar without causing harm. But he was too powerful, too attuned to his new form. With a few deft movements, he evaded their grasp, his actions not of aggression but of a primal need for freedom.

Realizing that physical efforts were futile, the director made a quick decision. "We need to keep this under wraps," he announced. "Set up a perimeter. No one in or out without clearance. And get PR on the line—any leaks about this, and we handle it as a stunt gone wrong."

The crew worked into the night, establishing a secure zone around the area where Azogar had retreated. Discussions were held on how to manage the fallout. Ideas ranged from declaring the transformation a method acting triumph to outright denial of any real change. Meanwhile, Azogar roamed the fringes of the set, now his domain, far removed from the world of Ethan Clarke.

As the set turned into a makeshift containment area, the reality settled in: they had not only transformed a man into a character for a film but might have altered his existence permanently. The implications were profound, echoing with legal, ethical, and personal consequences that they would have to face in the coming days.

The innovative yet desperate solution took shape quickly among the film's director, producers, and key crew members as they grappled with the reality of Ethan's permanent transformation into Azogar. With four more films slated for production in the series, the idea of maintaining Ethan as Azogar not only seemed feasible but potentially beneficial in numerous ways.

Strategy for Public Relations and Filming

The director proposed leveraging the situation for promotional gain, presenting Ethan's transformation as an unprecedented method acting dedication. "Imagine the press when they see Azogar walking the red carpets, staying in character full-time," he mused. The idea was met with nods; it would certainly create a buzz and might even set a new trend in film marketing.

Furthermore, with Azogar responding to scripted directions, the filming of the remaining four movies could proceed much faster. Without the need for the lengthy makeup process, production timelines could be significantly shortened, reducing costs and logistical headaches.

Managing Ethan's Role

However, there was the ethical concern about Ethan's well-being and identity. It was unclear how much of Ethan remained within Azogar, if at all. The team agreed that they couldn't simply ignore his possible existence beneath Azogar's persona.

The solution was as creative as it was bold: hiring a stunt double for Ethan. This double would undergo a similar transformation but reversed—taking a specially crafted potion to assume Ethan’s pre-transformation appearance and personality. This "Ethan double" would handle public appearances and some off-camera aspects of Ethan’s life, maintaining the illusion that Ethan could still switch between his real self and Azogar.

Implementing the Plan

The search for a suitable double was conducted with utmost secrecy. After rigorous auditions and careful consideration, a stunt actor with similar physical characteristics and acting ability was chosen. The makeup and effects team, led by Maria, worked closely with scientists to develop a reversal potion tailored to this unique scenario.

Once ready, the double underwent the transformation process, which was closely monitored to ensure it could be safely reversed. The experiment was successful; the double not only looked like Ethan but was also able to emulate his mannerisms and speech patterns effectively.

Ethical Concerns and Future Plans

This arrangement raised significant ethical questions. The team had to continuously evaluate the moral implications of their decisions, particularly concerning the true nature of Ethan's current state. Was he fully Azogar now, or was there still a part of him that could suffer or long for his old life? They decided to keep a close watch on Azogar’s behavior for any signs of Ethan's personality resurfacing.

Regular meetings were set up to discuss the ongoing situation, and it was agreed that if there were any indication Ethan's consciousness was still active or in distress, they would revisit their strategy and seek alternative solutions to restore him, if possible.

Meanwhile, Azogar became a sensation, both on-screen and off, with the "Ethan double" helping to maintain the public narrative. The films proceeded on schedule, with the unusual circumstances around their lead actor adding an intriguing layer of real-life drama to the fictional saga they were creating.

[nsewell]

Rook Questions! 12, 17, 23 please!

12. Does Rook have any family? Do they keep in touch?

runa brosca-theirin has a very well established family as the surnames imply. she's the product of one last union between katrin brosca, the duster who became the hero of ferelden and king alistair theirin before his arranged marriage to anora. she was kept a secret from alistair because katrin didn't want to complicate the line of succession of her daughter's life anymore than she had to already, and born at vigil's keep in amaranthine. most people except for the core companions were in the dark about alistair and katrin's romance so people just assumed she was born from an unimportant tryst. she was raised by her mother in vigil's keep for a time of about six years and doted on by the wardens there, espescially sigrun and nathaniel who became key family figures in her life. loghain also was very present when he made trips to the east to visit anora and would stop by vigil's keep to greet and report to katrin. when katrin decided it time to find a cure for the calling, runa was placed in his primary care as her closest confidant and he became her surrogate father until he was lost in the fade at adamant fortress when she was 10.

both her mother and loghain would take her to orzammar to see her cousin endrin aeducan and aunt rica. loghain would pretend he had warden business to conduct with bhelen and in the deep roads but used it as a guise so runa could be around her family.

17. How’d Rook get those scars?

she's accumulated a few scars over her years of training rigorously and handling blades, defensive wounds, and sparring accidents. there's a notable one that's a jagged bitemark on her right arm from when she was sent to the deep roads to recover a vial of darkspawn blood for her joining ritual and a hurlock lunged at her and sunk its teeth into her flesh. it was her first wound as a warden and it wasn’t a clean or honorable mark which just served as a reminder of the brutality of the blight.

23. What does Rook wear in the off hours? Do they like dressing up?

her off duty outfit is simple and utilitarian, usually just grey warden issued tunic and trousers but she does have a soft spot for the ocassional adornment, a bracelet or pendant of dwarven craftsmanship, something gifted by her aunt rica. dressing up is rare for her and only the occasions she has to represent the wardens at noble functions, or a fancy aeducan feast. the few times she’s dressed formally, she’s found herself almost self-conscious of her scarred arms and the calloused hands that don’t quite fit with silk and lace. she gravitates to dwarven styles over fereldan and carries this quirk into her monarchy.