#d cell battery

[hometoursandotherstuff]

They do hold 1.5 volts each like a triple A battery but they're slightly shorter, and the diameter is narrower. But if you ever need a AAA they will work with a small piece of aluminum foil.

#science #other stuff #batteries #d cell battery #things I didn't know

[slimetony]

#music #original

[buccini555]

𝐋𝐨𝐬𝐭 𝐜𝐚𝐥𝐥 - 𝐁𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧

≡ 𝑺𝒖𝒎𝒎𝒂𝒓𝒚... They called you (their wife) several times but you didn't answer because your cell phone just ran out of battery, but this ended up worrying them

⌕ x r e a d e r !

★ 𝑭𝒕. Manjiro Sano, Sanzu Haruchiyo, Rindou Haitani and Kakucho Hitto

𝐌𝐚𝐧𝐣𝐢𝐫𝐨 𝐒𝐚𝐧𝐨

Manjiro called you frequently when he wasn't idle to make sure you were okay even though he was so far away from you, at that moment, he had been trying to call you for some time, when he realized that your cell phone was out of range, he began to become extremely worried.

"Honey? Answer, now, dammit!" He would say dialing your number countless times, with each missed call he became more distressed, pacing from one side to the other, all he could think was that something bad had happened to you, Manjiro began to tremble, as if his heart was being crushed, even so, he continued to call you insistently, leaving several messages and sending several messages.

"Babe? Where the fuck were you? Shit, I was worried about you." As soon as you managed to charge your phone's battery, you returned Manjiro's calls, who answered immediately.

"Sorry, my phone died." You said, noticing the distress in Manjiro's trembling voice and the anxiety in his intonation.

"Start paying more attention to your damn phone battery... I'm glad you're okay." He felt calmer knowing that his concern was unnecessary, so he soon ended up hanging up the phone call.

𝐒𝐚𝐧𝐳𝐮 𝐇𝐚𝐫𝐮𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐲𝐨

Haruchiyo cares extremely about his wife's well-being, so whenever he's not around to keep her safe, Sanzu takes advantage of any free time to make a few calls to see if everything was okay or if you were really in need of something.

As usual, he called you, noticing the delay in a response, the taller started to get a little impatient and uncomfortable, realizing that this was an unusual situation, concern took over him.

"Shit, shit! Something happened... I'm sure it happened." Sanzu said in a loud thought as he sent you thousands of messages, still calling you instantly and realizing that your cell phone was out of range, his desperation only increased every minute as if he was about to have an anxiety or panick attack.

"Honey? Honey where were you? I was worried, did something happen?" As soon as you could answer, Haruchiyo didn't even allow you to explain yourself, already filling you with questions.

"I'm sorry, Haru, my cell phone ran out of battery." You spoke, relieving his anxiety at that moment.

"Holy shit, I thought you were kidnapped." Haruchiyo laughed nervously and reassured himself that you were okay.

𝐑𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐨𝐮 𝐇𝐚𝐢𝐭𝐚𝐧𝐢

No matter how busy and busy Rindou was, he always found a way to call you to see if you were okay even with his absence because he was far away, Rindou remained even more worried in case something happened to his wife.

"Hey love?" Rindou said, but before you could even respond, your cell phone's battery died, as soon as the call dropped without the older even hearing your voice, a huge worry took over your chest.

"Fuck!?" He sent you countless messages and tried to call you back countless times, however, he realized that your cell phone was out of range, probably turned off, this fact made him feel even more distressed by your sudden absence.

"Rin? Sorry, my phone died." When your cell phone called again, you could finally talk to Rindou, seeing so many missed calls, you couldn't even imagine how worried he was.

"It's okay, princess. The important thing is that you're okay." He breathed a sigh of relief as soon as he heard his voice, Rindou spent a few minutes questioning if you were really okay as he was on the verge of a nervous breakdown.

𝐊𝐚𝐤𝐮𝐜𝐡𝐨 𝐇𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐨

When he had to be away from you for some reason, Kakucho was completely concerned about being away in case something happened to you or that you needed him by your side, even if he was busy to the bone, Kakucho always found a way to get away from you a time to at least give you a call to make sure his wife was safe and well.

"Love?" He questioned himself as to why his cell phone was turned off and out of range, as unusual as it was for you not to answer his calls, at first, Kakucho tried to simply remain calm, but with each missed call his concern only increased, making him call you countless times and send countless messages, Kakucho began to think about what bad could have happened to you, making his heart beat increasingly faster due to anxiety.

"I'm sorry! My phone was out of battery, Kaku." When I finally managed to talk to him, he noticed how desperate he was, Kakucho honestly worried a lot, but all of this was a reflection of his love for you.

"Are you okay? I'm sorry for calling you so many times, I'm worried, I love you." Kakucho replied, still frantic but with his heart relieved to know that nothing bad had happened to you as he had compulsively imagined.

#bonten sanzu #bonten x reader #sanzu bonten #bonten mikey #bonten tokyo revengers #bonten #bonten headcanons #bonten x you #bonten x y/n #bonten rindou #bonten kakucho #tokyo revengers manjiro sano #sanzu tokyo revengers #ran haitani #kakucho tokyo revengers #tokyo revengers #tokyorev headcanons #tokyo rev x you #tokyo rev #tokyorevengersheadcanons #tokrev #tokyorev x reader #tokyorevengers #tokyo rev hcs #tokyo revengers x reader #tokyo revengers x you #tokyo revengers fluff #sano manjiro #sanzu haruchiyo #haitani rindou

[transmechanicus]

Love the idea of laser weapons that still create bullet casings, or some equivalent. A bolt action laser rifle that ejects burnt out fuses, a gatling energy cannon that ejects a stream of spent fuel chunks, a pump action shotgun that spits out a used D cell battery with every shot.

#my stuff #writing

[elliottkay]

Hi, I’m Elliott, and writing smut changed my life.

I also write military sci-fi and fantasy and D&D shitposts, but this is about the smut. I promise it won’t get weird. Much.

In 2010, I was scraping by as a substitute teacher and things were not great at home. I had only written gamer fic for friends, my aspiring mil sci-fi novel was stuck, and I needed some sort of escape… and I thought, “Well, I like sexy stories, and Literotica is free, and…”

My story was a feel-good adventure about a college guy with a heart of gold, a jaded demon weary of evil, and Heaven's hottest mess. It was silly. It was sexy. It was polyamorous, warm, and irreverent, and Literotica loved it: high ranking, tons of comments, and holy shit am I getting positive feedback from the internet?

So it became my first book:

…and that book plugged some holes in my life. It didn’t get me out of subbing, but it filled the financial gap, and it picked me up after a break-up. More importantly, it gave me an audience. When I published Poor Man’s Fight, I already had readers, and that led to more readers… many of whom then picked up Good Intentions and loved that, too, though some had the shocking experience of “Oh my god, it’s full of butts!”

If you’ve read this far, it’s probably time for the content warning. I’m a big believer in these, for serious reasons and, um… less serious.

WARNING: “Good Intentions” contains violence, explicit sex, nudity, inappropriate use of church property, portrayals of beings divine and demonic bearing little or no resemblance to established religion or mythology, trespassing, bad language, sacrilege, blasphemy, attempted murder, arguable murder, divinely mandated murder, justifiable murder, filthy murder, sexual promiscuity, kidnapping, attempted rape (which is never comedy), immolation of said attempted rapists, persistent disrespect for vampires (which is always comedy), arson, dead animals, desecrated graves, gang activity, theft, assault and battery, panties, misuse of the 911 system, fantasy depictions of sorcery and witchcraft, multiple references to various matters of fandom, questionable interrogation tactics, cell phone abuse, reckless driving, even more explicit sexuality, illegal use of firearms within city limits, polyamory, abuse of authority, hit and run driving, destruction of private property, underage drinking, disturbances of the peace, disorderly conduct, internet harassment, bearers of false witness, mayhem, dismemberment, falsification of records, tax evasion, bad study habits, and an uncomfortably sexy mother.

…and that’s just the first book.

They've all got those warnings. Even the short story collections.

Credit to the incredible @leemoyer for all my book covers, and for teaching me so much about this biz. And while he's not on the book covers, I've gotta share the other central protagonist as illustrated by the awesome @juliedillon:

...yeah, Alex gets into some shit.

If you're looking for protagonists who really communicate, if you want polyamory instead of love triangles, and if you hate when steamy scenes fade to black, I've got you covered.

If you’ve read this far and you’re interested, or even if you just want to see more content warnings, please give my stuff a look on Amazon (including Kindle Unlimited) or on Audible where they’re narrated by Tess Irondale. Give her a listen and you’d be happy to hear her read just about anything.

#books #bookcovers #good intentions #urban fantasy #polyamory #extremely thorough content warnings

[seat-safety-switch]

When I go to the big alternative energy conferences, people ask me: what’s the most recyclable battery out there? Is it lithium-ion? Lithium-polymer? Lithium-iron-phosphate? No, friends: it’s Home Depot.

Let me explain. Stealing batteries from Home Depot is a renewable source of energy. Wow, I guess that was actually pretty simple. Allow me to expand further: the definition of renewable is that it comes back after it’s gone, right? When you fill the false lining on your jacket with flashlight D-cells, or just stuff a bunch of Evereadys down the back of your pants and constipated-penguin-walk your way off of the show floor while pretending to yell at “your wife” on “your smartphone,” those batteries will be back on the shelves the very next day, like it never even happened.

Unlike solar, too, this energy source is available all the time. In fact, it’s quite a bit easier to harvest this power at night, because the parking-lot security guard has to take his break around then.

Sure, it’s not a perfect solution. Sometimes they move them around, or they put a camera near the batteries. We’re going to need to develop new strategies to extract this energy, and it will take cooperation from everyone in society (for instance, a big guy who can stand around the paint aisle and block the loss-prevention lady.)

Overall, we need to use less energy, because I am getting tired of driving to the store every day just because I had to use an entire shipping crate full of double-A batteries to boost my car. I’m doing my part, by only using solar calculators to compute my profits from selling the excess batteries on Kijiji under the name of a local tough-on-crime politician.

[gavamont]

A wizard that uses a really long D cell battery for their magic staff. Some say it’s not really a D cell battery because it’s too long, it can’t fit in any device, and it’s not made by any normal battery maker. But the wizard knows it’s got the important part. Which is that it holds electricity, and it can magically power any vibrator within 500 yards.

#wizard #wizardposting #wizard shit #wizardblogging #wizardblr #d&d #dnd #make up a guy #character idea #magic items

[farolero-posting]

Notes on Niko

Hello! This is basically a post where I wanna compile facts and thoughts about Niko, for now it's just shorter facts or thoughts on them, but I may share more later c:

Let's start with a list!

Niko is a crafty child, since they can manage to fix the battery in the Barrens and the button for the Elevator with our suggestions.

They also know how to herd rams, and is implied they do similar things in their village.

They have looked after small children so they probably know a few things about looking after someone else, but they still have a lot to learn.

And they do learn! Niko remembers information they've been learning, such as what power cells, yellow phosphor, or blueprints are.

(maybe) it's likely they're at that stage where they can get by on their own with what they know but they still learn plenty of things in a day.

They hear a lot from movies and cartoons. Sometimes fiction helps explain ideas.

They know what death is, even if it's not mentioned out loud they can still deduce what the suicide note was about, or what could happen if they return the sun or break it.

They don't like being described as a cat

They tend to default to "noun guy/lady" to refer to people they don't know the name of. (elevator guy, plant lady, robot lady)

They're scared of ladders, but not heights, they're fine with the flying machine or walking around the top of the Refuge.

They also have fear of any other things that are potential hazards but nothing paralyzing.

They like fire! They even talk to Alula about it. They also know to lit up a fire in the starting house. Also the devs words on Niko doing arson lol.

They love fish, but think eating it raw like sushi is weird.

They know a few "big words" like "precarious" but probably don't know more technical words. They're around eight years old so I personally assume it's a mix of fiction and children's stories often trying to teach words incidentally.

They likely don''t like people assuming they can't do things, like them insisting they know how to read, it's just that the strange journal is not in a language they understand.

Part 2 to be released soon! ...I hope :D with longer notes.

#oneshot game #oneshotgame #niko #long post #analysis #most of these are very surface level things lol #i just like picking up on quirks so I wrote down things off the top of my head #niko oneshot

[justabeautifulgirl]

The next morning Venua woke up, and immediately thought of the robot girl in her basement. She got up and walked to her kitchen, the sunlight streaming in through the stained glass flowers in her window above the sink, casting multicolored lights onto the cob floor of the cottage. She started her electric kettle and started to make her favorite lemon strawberry tea. Once her tea had the proper amount of honey in it she headed down to the basement to see the solar cell's battery life reach 100 percent. "Wakey wakey." She said softly in a joking tone. Venua had always made a habit of talking to the bots she works on. She hears a startup sound and the bot opens her eyes, and screams. She starts to thrash around screaching in a harsh tone, the vocal module clearly damaged. "Please don't kill me!! Please! I don't want to die!!!" "Shhh. Be still! I'm not going to kill you." The girl stopped thrashing but still clearly panicked, looked around at her surroundings as if everything in sight was a threat. Her eyes finally focused on the woman in front of her, she had dark curly hair with gold streaks running through it and a large muscular frame which only served to compliment her femininity. She didn't look a thing like the people who were trying to murder her, in fact she didn't look familiar at all. "Who are you?" The girl asked, a quiver in her voice. "My name is Venua, I... I helped you." "Where am I?" "We're in my basement, I helped you. Are you... sensing, any issues? Anything I can help fix?" "I... I think my voice, it's wrong. A-And there's something wrong, I c-can't move my legs!" Venua looked down and saw that her legs weren't moving despite lights indicating that they were definitely powered. "Okay don't worry, I can help make them work. It just might take some time." "Well, how much time?" "I'm not sure but don't worry, I have a wheelchair around here somewhere, let me go find it." "Wait, where are you going?" "Just upstairs, I'll be right back down okay?" The robot girl sighed, and hung there waiting for her rescuer. As she calmed down she was able to notice more about her surroundings, like the boxes of spare, unfamiliar looking parts and the walls that looked like they were made of sand and clay. She looked down at herself and saw that the clunky battery she was once fitted with is replaced by a sleek, pill shaped device glowing with a light blue light. She tried to reach down and touch the device but her arms are held in place from the hooks under her armpits. "Alright I have a smaller folding wheelchair from when my friend had to use it before they got their prosthetic legs." Venua walked into the basement and unfolded the contraption, it looks similar to ones she used to see but a lot more sleek and refined. "Okay, let me reattach your chest and stomach plates." She quickly moved to fit them back into place, noticing that the girl flinched as she moved. "Can I touch you? I'm gonna have to lift you into the chair." "Y-Yes it's okay, just please d-don't hurt me." "I won't. I promise." Venua slowly held her arms out and lifted the girl off of the hooks and into the wheelchair, making sure that she fit well and was comfortable. "Now please don't try to go rolling off just yet, I want to fix your voice module and see if I can't get your legs working again."

#love #short story #writing #writeblr #solarpunk story #solarpunk #robot girls #robot girl #pt. 3

[faranae]

"Hey, the laptop feels weird."

So, Sander's lid isn't closing flush. On closer inspection, the touchpad sure is popping up out of the keyboard by about the same amount as that gap you see in the above picture, so roughly 1/8".

"Ah, fuck." I think to myself. "That's probably a spicy pillow."

So, I flip Sander over and break out my handy-dandy T5 Torx bit to take the bottom of the case off. I ease my way in by working at all of the screws at once. I am careful. I am cautious...

... And I jump 3 feet out of my skin when the plate suddenly releases with a resounding CRACK:

That 1/4" gap you see there? That's not the lid. That's the bottom plate of the laptop, pushed up by the swollen chunk of chemical oh-no underneath it now that there are no screws to keep the delinquent battery subdued. Normally there are sets of clips along the inner edge of the chassis that hold the plate on, but they were no match for the Spicy Pillow.

There he is! Sander Cohen's undoing in all its glory. If you've ever wondered what a 50Wh 3-cell lithium-polymer battery looks like once it's going spicy, now you've seen it! :D

A few hours later and he's now recovering from surgery and doing quite well, though he will forever be tethered to the wall AC now that he's got no cell in there. I'm glad, because I'd just finished wiping the machine clean and setting him up for BabyCat to use for her schoolwork and some games. @_@; Her phone recently shattered (wasn't her fault either, the poor thing) and this was a way of cheering her up, and it almost went so horribly wrong.

#computer stuff #Fara speaks #story time #computer problems #Spicy pillow #Sander Cohen the Laptop #photo post #Kudos to this chassis though it snapped right back into shape

[table-cat-games]

Another round of Ghostbusters modding!

I dedicated some time to modding the Hasbro proton pack. The pack was crowdfunded on their platform called Haslab and was modeled after the proton pack scene in Ghostbusters Afterlife.

They did a pretty good job on it except for a few things. The primary thing that bothered me about it is that it used D cell batteries instead of a modern solution that is rechargeable.

The solution was cracking it open and installing a battery myself.

Now it's accessible from a little side door.

At the same time I also installed a keep alive kit which you can use to keep the proton pack running almost indefinitely as you walk around with it on. Otherwise it shuts off after 3 minutes.

That's it right there, it's super tiny.

Next up was replacing the lens on the power level doodad. The frosted looked really bad in my opinion so I got a more clear blue one.

I can only do one video per post, so you'll see it in action at the end.

They also have some stuff that looks really fake like molded rubber tape or clamps that are molded rubber. I covered up a lot of the faky stuff with actual electrical tape or clamps.

Also this guy on YouTube did this interesting thing with little bits of wires to give it a little more authenticity, so I did that too.

And while I love Ghostbusters afterlife I wasn't super in love with the modified pack in that film, so I toned it down a little bit.

In the final image You can see that I took these little fake copper wire things and removed them. I covered up the holes at the top with a sticker and at the bottom with just some electric tape. Not the most elegant solution but it works for me.

And here's the final result for now. There's only two more things on the list for this pack: 1. Replace the yellowish wireloom cover. 2. Replace the really dirty ribbon cable. 3. Replace the fake tape on the handle of the neutrona wand.

#Ghostbusters #cosplay #costuming #ghostbusters afterlife #hasbro #haslab

[luckyshotwrites]

Ch. 94 // Weren't You Happy? // Day 68

Contents (Warnings): Happy? (Angst, slight blood mention, character and monster info as always). Read full chapter on A03

Wordcount: 3,000+

Song I correlate to this Chapter: None Yet

-------------------------------------------------------------------

(Current Day)

Drake

His thoughts that went on all night were interrupted by Lynette stirring awake. Her sound quickened realizing that everything that had happened wasn't a dream and she was trapped with him in a cell. There was little to no light within—Drake could only see because of his species. 

He wouldn't suppose she could. 

"D-drake." Her shaken voice called for reassurance, looking in his direction but too afraid to physically reach out for it. 

He hadn't moved his back from the corner. "Yeah..." The ease of her relief did nothing to calm his nerves. 

His anger festered and bubbled like flesh in frying oil. I should have fought like hell. I should have died trying to do something. Drake gave in for her sake more than his. 

Lynette was innocent. 

"Are you still hurt?"

"Physically, no." He felt the words expelling from his mouth. "I let this maniac catch us. He somehow was able to perfectly imitate Ace, and now I'm stuck as his damn merchandise, and he's keeping you here as a hostage and for me to drink from. This whole situation is-" Drake wanted to yell. "If I ever get the fucking chance, I'm going to rip his smug head from his body."

When Lynette's heart rate spiked, he noticed the guttural growl in his vocal cords. He wasn't going to apologize for what he said. He meant it. 

It created silence between them. Usually, it was something Drake enjoyed. At the moment, it felt heavier, like his torn clothes, hair, limbs, and even the air pulled him to the ground. 

"I'm just glad you're not alone," Lynette said. His ears felt the honesty past her fear. 

Drake winced—he thought the same. "You shouldn't have gotten involved." 

"Neither should you have."

Yet I did.

An encroaching heartbeat made his fangs tense together. It's that girl. He heard Victoria through the others whom he listened to all night.

It made Andras's words flood his mind.

"However, starting tomorrow, you and your battery will be getting your work cut out for you. I expect you to have at least five to ten clients daily." [...] "Until you make up for all that precious time I lost not having you."

I can't do that. I'll go insane. It's only midnight. Drake masked his panic with anger. His eyes darted across the room to Lynette. He barely pulled back yesterday. He couldn't imagine it being a repetitive cycle.

"If either of you," Victoria said with a slight irritation, "move in a way I don't like, I'm covering your 'home' in fire." She gestured to the cells she stepped in front of it. "And I only think one of you guys will survive being a crisp."

He could feel Lynette's frustration. They both remained still as Victoria opened the gates and walked in. Drake contained his reflexes. He knew Andras had little purpose for Lynette, so Victoria's threat wasn't a bluff. 

Her boots thumped with each step. 

"Turn around." She ordered. 

He did so. 

She roughly snapped them shut and made sure he was held with his arms behind himself. He pulled at the dampeners, much like their cell. They drained the user of energy when they used magic. 

Given my defect, I'll probably be close to dying, if not dead. 

"Open your mouth." She instructed next.

Drake hesitated. He didn't want to feel the metal tendrils dig and squirm inside his mouth and throat again. Damn it. She moved the slightly luminescent metal piece closer.

"That hurts him," Lynette whispered. 

Don't be stupid. Drake knew she'd move. It was something he knew Lynette shared with a particular friend of his. The need to meddle. 

"LYNETTE." Drake snarled viciously. 

Victoria didn't seem to care since Lynette's movement was stopped. 

She put the item to Drake, and it activated. It broke into the tendrils and wrapped around the inside, clinging and tearing anything it could: teeth, flesh, even in the back of his throat. It barely left him enough room to breathe.

Victoria then flipped him around and made him march out of the cage, leaving the cell and Lynette behind. 

...

His mind tugged back and forth between his yearning for blood and logical thought—his instincts were winning. 

The promise of clarity after drinking blood tempted him as his energy dipped dangerously toward less functional levels. He balanced on the cusp of going rabid and making anyone his meal if he could. 

Until he was brought into the office. 

Andras sat on the front of his desk, facing the door where Drake entered. He seemed to be reading over some odd book missing its cover. 

As he glanced up, Andras put down his book and approached Drake. "You look in a lot better shape than before. Glad to see you're playing your role better." 

Drake's muscles started to flex with anticipation to end him.

Andras put his hand up and out to Drake's face. He got the part of the bar that had forced his jaw open and tore it out, tendrils and all. 

His bloody mouth soon healed, and he stared at Andras as it did. The tendrils shook themselves off and returned to the shape of a bar. "Since Drake has another client in two hours, why don't you go downstairs and get-" He scanned over Terrance, who still held Drake's arms. "On second thought, can you retrieve Zetsu to do it instead? He should be assisting a client a few doors down."

Terrance let Drake go, leaving him alone in the room with Andras.

"I hope one of these days I don't forget that Terrance eats humans," Andras muttered.

Without sparing another moment, Drake twisted his head and pushed himself to Andras so he could bite into him. 

...

Lynette

It wasn't a time for self-pity.

Not that I could focus on that. My mind was too busy running what happened hours ago, like reruns of a Christmas special. He couldn't have...he didn't even think twice.

I perked up at every noise and little shuffle. I assumed it might be someone bringing Drake back. 

I can't even remember what happened when he attacked me. The whole thing seemed to blur when I tried to think about it. 

I hope they bring him back. 

I didn't want to imagine Andras eating Drake the same way. He went through all that effort. He wouldn't kill Drake just like that. I chose to believe that. 

The faint ding from the elevator caught my attention. I used the wall to bring myself up. What's the point of getting up? I still did so. 

I can't do anything. This is different than with Claudia. I'm not going to get lucky for being reckless.

I softly took another breath and heard a voice beyond the bars.

"I'm sorry."

That's not Drake, Andras, or Victoria. Their sound was far too timid, almost like they held tears welling up in their eyes.

"Zetsu?"

I didn't receive a response right away, just the creak of the cell door. "Andras sent me to get you," he muttered.

"You don't sound like you want to do this," I replied. I followed his blob in the darkness. I couldn't fully discern it. 

He struggled to speak. "You seem nice."

I can't imagine how he feels. "And you don't seem bad either." Should I really think like this? He's working for them or was somehow.

He approached. I kept myself in place. He stood over me, and his fingers gently touched my shoulder. He was guiding me out of the cell. We walked down the corridor amidst murmurs from the others trapped in theirs. 

"I don't know what I want. I wanted to be free of him for so long. I thought it'd make me free..." His fingers dug slightly into my shoulder. I flinched. "I didn't even want Osiris to die. I just wanted him to stop."

All I knew was that Osiris worked with Andras to do this. There were undoubtedly countless others that Osiris might have tricked or forced into doing what he wanted.

'I just wanted him to stop.' What he said reintroduced a painful memory. "You didn't do it to him. Andras did." I said, through hurt breathes. It had been so many years, and my guilt, though settled, never truly left.

"I should have died, not him."

"No." I said sharply. I grabbed his hand. I don't know what he's done. Whether he's good or bad. He might be manipulating me. We're in trouble, so why do I care.

We neared the elevator. He wouldn't gain anything by saying this. Andras has us both. 

"You should find a way to leave," I said when we reached the elevator doors. It's what I wanted. I wanted to leave safe and sound with Drake. Yet...I can't leave these people down here. If we did escape, he'd relocate, right? Would they be able to find them? I can't even call Wicks. Can Wicks even find me? I didn't want him to. I don't want him to die trying to help me. 

Zetsu stirred me from my thoughts. "I can't." He put his hand on my back again.

The elevator door opened and blinded me. It was as if I were engaged in a staring match with the sun. It took thirty more seconds for my eyes to fully readjust, and I saw my reflection staring back at me. My clothes were slightly bloodied near my neck, my hair a frizzled mess of curls, and my face was dirtied from being on the ground. 

It'll only get worse. 

I attempted to fix what I could and glanced at the looming, scared figure. "You have more of a chance than me." The honesty tasted bitter. "Take it."

His stared at the floor, his words left without emotion. "I don't have enough power to leave alone."

...

Drake

He couldn't buck Andras off. The dealer sat on his back like he was a bench. He couldn't do anything but argue, until his senses made him tune in on the heartbeat, hers. It came closer, rising from the elevator shaft toward them.

And then his eyes locked onto her, he could feel his body pull toward her. He also saw Lynette react as well, unlike his initial eyes that never left her, she went out toward them.

Andras leaned forward, "don't worry, he's fine." Andras's hand patted Drake's head. "Don't be so hostile, you did this to yourself."

Drake snapped his head back and Andras smiled, "Get the hell off me."

"You don't want her to know do you?"

"That you made me believe in your lies?!" Drake painfully twisted his wrists, he wanted to break out form his shackles.

Andras worked up a chuckle, "those 'lies' made you happy though, didn't they?" He said. "You wanted to be be looked at like everyone else." He moved his hand by Drake's mouth, he snapped at it, Andras moved it away in time.

"But they only looked at you with pity. Poor Poor little flawless."

He struggled profusely and it made Andras leap up.

"I gave you a way out of that, one that you loved, remember?"

"SHUT UP!" Drake stumbled up to his feet, his cuffs kept his arms locked.

His focus wanted to drift, he sickeningly didn't let it. He refused to be part of this game. His own heart beat like it had been bruised. "I wasn't happy at all!" He shouted, less confidently, at the time he knew he was.

"You were," Andras took his chance to tease. He approached Drake, slowly. "So happy in fact you wanted my help to cut the only tie holding you back."

His vocal cords twinged and tightened. They wouldn't let him hum out a single word. He exhaled in response, his lips trembled before they pushed into one another.

Everything was quiet. The eyes fell on him. Their piercing gaze choked him and it sent him into a frantic haze.

He had forgotten why he held himself back.

He launched himself at Andras. He was powerless. His best idea was to smash his head into the dealer. At least to shut him up.

Andras moved his head to the side, and threw his hand up. It caught Drake's forehead and eyes. Andras made sure Drake's ear was at his lips.

"Wipe that guilt from your face," Andras snickered, "I can tell you still hate him, don't you?"

Andras curled his fingers tighter around Drake's face before he could answer. It felt like a clamp. Is he using enhancements? His eyes weren't glowing again.

"I missed your tenacity," he said, "so how about this. If you answer me honestly, we can work as a team again."

Fuck you. Drake wanted to say as his energy was being syphoned.

Andras's tone pulled Drake's ear, "all you have to do is tell me, Drake. Do you still want to kill, Alexander?"

...

Hey, you, thank you so much for reading. I'm glad I put out a story that people can enjoy! I hope you continue to enjoy it as WE have a LOT more to go! YOU BETTER KEEP PROSPERING! (Nonnegotiable, as always~).

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Catch up, see some maps/art, or check the latest release dates down below  ↓ ↓ ↓ 

What I’d do for a Livable Income Part 2 (Synopsis/Chapter - List)

#widfali #vore story #vore writing #v.ore #soft vore #v/ore #v.0re #v/0re

[spinupthepornograph]

cw: some robotgirl non-con/dub-con.

You take your robot girl's personality card out, and she goes ragdoll.

You clip it into the new adapter that just arrived from aliexpress, then dig through some drawers and pull out a few more personality cards, clicking them all into the slots. The whole assembly goes back into your robogirl's chassis, and you wait a moment for the diagnostic lights to turn green.

You pull out the remote from the dusty package, and stick in a fresh battery. A single button press and the adapter clicks, and an LED blinks a few times. You close up her chassis and and long-press the power button on the back of her neck.

All her servos jerk momentary, then the light in her eyes comes back. Unfocused eyes look around rapidly, then see you, and she smiles.

"Master! Are you done with my upgrade?" "I sure am, my pet. Want to see what I've added?" "Of course, master!".

You help her to her feet, then tell her to stay there. You step back, and click the remote. Her eyes go fuzzy for a second, then come back. She drops to all fours, tongue lolling out of her mouth. She pants, looking up at you expectantly. You pull a tennis ball from your pocket, and gently toss it out the open workshop door and down the hallway.

She excitedly arfs and races out the door, still on all fours. You hear her rooting around the packages waiting around the door, then she emits a muffled happy "yip!" and there's the sound of rapid quadrupedal footsteps as she scrambles back into the room. She kneels at your feet, dropping the slightly-wet tennis ball at your feet, and looking up at you, smiling as wide as she can but saying nothing.

You tap the remote, and again she seems to fuzz out of it for a moment, and you hear the soft click of a relay turning over inside her. She looks around in confusion, and gets back up on her feet. "Master, what... why did I do that? I remember searching for the ball and bringing it back to you, but I don't remember why I did that! It's like I'm remembering someone else's memories!"

You show her the flimsy piece of paper that came with the adapter, and she quickly scans the badly auto-translated english text.

TELPO PM-04 Personality Multiplexer

attach every personality cards into slots A, B, & C, D

insert the card proxy into any Syntek Central Unit (48 only pin)

On attached remote, button press to select toggle active personality card slot

Use only CR3220 cell

Memory Storage is reserved to slot A, other cards will share space

"A personality multiplexer, master?" she says, looking up at you with some confusion.

"Yep! I can swap your consciousness out for one of my choice. Slot B has this.". You hand her the small box, and she goes over it quickly, turning it over in her hands. It's covered in pictures of puppies, and advertises an accurate simulation of a loving "pupper", compatible with any Syntek chassis on the market.

"You turned me into a dog?!"

You rarely get her flustered enough to forget to address you properly. It's cute, though you'll have to punish her later for it. It might be your imagination, but you swear you can hear her fans spinning a little faster at the revelation...

"More or less. I pretty much just put you on pause, while letting a different personality take over your body. And I can do that at the click of a button!" You hold up the remote, showing her the four unlabeled buttons. "Want to see what's in slot C?" You reach towards the button, intentionally slowly...

She reaches out her arms "No! I mean, No thanks, master. Maybe I can look at the boxes first? I'd like to know more about what I'll be before we test it out."

You smile as devilishly as you can manage. "I don't know, that doesn't sound like something little dolls get to choose. Maybe you'd enjoy some time as a mindless sexbot?" Her already-big eyes manage to go wider, and she reaches forward for the remote impudently. You slam the button, and she stops mid-reach.

A moment later, she drops to her knees, and opens her mouth. She says nothing, as sexbots don't need speech synthesis routines. "I'm going to have a lot of fun with this", you think. Mainly in making her remember what you're going to make her do... You unzip your fly, and she leans forward hungrily.

#robot girls #robotgirls

[e642]

En fait, ça dépend bcp des jours mon humeur. Je sens que je m'acclimate dans l'ensemble. J'ai eu des bonnes notes. J'ai repris le yoga. Beaucoup de choses restent dures pour moi, rien que manger, c'est compliqué, ou me lever le matin, ou ne pas passer des heures à rien foutre, ou travailler. Mais voilà, ya des soirées comme celle là où je me sens en paix avec moi et c'est imperturbable. Je range, je fais mon yoga, je mange un repas sain et voilà. Je pense que je suis dans une transition identitaire où j'essaie de subvenir maladroitement à mes besoins. Je comprends certaines choses, j'en assimile d'autres, et j'en rejette aussi... La solitude est moins compliquée à gérer, du moins, ma compagnie ne me crée plus autant de chagrin. En revanche, à chaque fois que je suis entourée, ça me frappe, ça me peine. J'ai toujours préféré moi aux autres même quand moi était pas là meilleure configuration. Il y a eu certaines personnes où j'étais mieux avec elles, mon ex copain, ou celui actuel, mais au final, ça n'a toujours fait qu'un temps. Je réalise toujours, ou du moins, je reprends toujours conscience, de ce décalage incessant avec les autres. Non, je suis pas exceptionnelle ou intelligente, juste j'ai du mal à apprécier sur une longue durée l'Autre. Certains parlent de batterie sociale, d'autres d'"ambivertisme". J'ai pas d'avis concernant sur la norme de mon ressenti, je sais que c'est là. En fait, je sais qu'à chaque fois que j'atteins une certaine quiétude interne et organique, je me passe des autres. Comme un parasite, je compense avec ce qu'on me donne, jusqu'à pouvoir me donner moi. Est ce de l'indépendance ? De l'opportunisme ? Le principe même des interactions sociales ? Je ne sais pas pour être honnête.

[wolveria]

The Raven’s Hymn - Ch 9

Pairing: SCP-049 x Reader

Series Warnings (18+ only): Eventual smut, dubcon, slow burn, violence, horror, monsters, human experiments, dark with a happy ending

Chapter Summary: So soon after the attack, you're forced to return to SCP-049's chambers.

AO3

More tests. More scans. You assumed nothing had changed, because after the doctors were done prodding you, you were returned to your barren room, your cot removed. It was such a petty thing, removing one of the few things that could provide comfort, but you bore the indignity in sullen silence.

When Dr. Leahy joined you in your cell, bringing a metal folding chair to sit on, you glared at it with envy. Your bones and joints ached like someone three times your age, and the concrete floor did nothing to help.

“We’re changing tactics for your next session with SCP-049.”

“No small talk today, Site Director?” you asked, your voice croaking. A parting gift from the SCP’s rough treatment. “Not going to ask me how I’m doing?”

The man didn’t look up from his tablet.

“Your tests came back the same as before, perfectly healthy. However, we still don’t know how you and SCP-049 are having an effect on each other, and that’s what the focus of today shall be.”

You said nothing. There was nothing much to say.

“I will feed you a set of instructions from the intercom, and you will obey them. If you do not, your accommodations will be revoked.”

You glanced around at your concrete box.

“Accommodations?”

He looked at you over the rim of his glasses, catching your dry note of sarcasm.

“If today’s session goes well, you will be transferred to a standard D-Class cell. Continue to be an exemplary employee, and you may even be reinstated in the staff quarters.”

You considered telling him to shove his “accommodations” up his ass, but your sensibility overruled your pride. As much as your fear had begun to ripen into anger, you knew Leahy could make things much, much worse for you. It was better to take what you could get.

He took your silence as agreement.

“You will follow my instructions to the letter, no matter what they are. If you disobey, encouragement will be given.”

A nice word for punishment if ever there was one.

“You will be escorted to SCP-049’s chamber immediately.”

The words barely registered before Leahy stood and tapped on the door with a knuckle. Two guards came in, one of them strapping a biomonitor on your wrist and the other grabbing you by the arm and hauling you into the corridor.

The walk wasn’t any more pleasant than it was before since your cell wasn’t close to your destination. SCP-049’s chamber was located in Heavy Containment Zone Sublevel 09, and each checkpoint you crossed drained what little anger you’d managed to harness.

Light Containment was an almost comfy section compared to the thick concrete and reinforced steel corners of Heavy Containment. The two were separated by a long catwalk and a longer elevator ride, compartmentalizing the segments enough that a breach in one would not affect the other. It was a clever design, but it meant everything was far apart, and wearing only thin sneakers your feet were aching by the end of your journey.

You were led into the control chamber and released once more, not bothering to try to run when the doors slammed shut behind you. You simply waited in front of the inner containment doors, your stomach twisting as the magnetic lock disengaged and the doors slowly rolled open.

SCP-049 walked forward, albeit slower than usual, its gait burdened. Its wrists and ankles were bound in shackles connected to each other, ending at the collar around its neck in a Class III Humanoid Restriction Harness.

On top of that, there were two collars around its neck, one constructed of metal and attached by chain to the wall of its inner containment cell, giving it just enough room to make it a few feet but no further.

The second device around its neck held a small black box to house a high voltage battery unit.

A shock collar.

It was the first time you’d seen one employed on an SCP. Dr. Puli never would have authorized it, and it wasn’t difficult to guess who had.

As the SCP shuffled forward, it favored its left side, injured from its confrontation with the guards. Confrontation was too gentle a word, perhaps. Yesterday’s beating would have been enough to kill a human, and you wondered if the SCP had been given any medical treatment. Knowing the Site Director, it was doubtful.

SCP-049 came to a sudden stop when its chain went taut, dragging it back a step. It steadied itself and straightened its posture with as much dignity as one could in shackles.

It seemed about to speak, but its eyes trailed down your neck, specifically the bruises peeking above the collar of your white jumpsuit.

“I have harmed you.”

Its voice faltered, as if this knowledge was troubling. There was no use denying it had hurt you, but you weren’t going to linger on that fact, either. Not with the Site Director watching your every move, documenting every word, and seeing how the interaction would play out.

“It’ll heal,” you answered without inflection.

The plague doctor seemed to frown, or at least its gaze narrowed with dissatisfaction as it gave you a thorough visual examination. You forced yourself to remain still under that piercing stare.

“Perhaps, but I… I should not have…”

It trailed off, uncertainty creeping into its words, along with something else. You would have called it guilt if it was coming from someone else.

The SCP rallied once more, drawing itself up and raising its head to look you in the eye.

“I owe you an apology, Doctor.”

Technically, you weren’t a doctor, having never gotten past a bachelor’s degree, but you didn’t correct the mistake. As far as you could remember from the recorded interviews, this particular SCP rarely showed regret, let alone apologized, and you didn’t want to derail its attention. You gave a nod to show you were listening, genuinely curious of this change in behavior.

“My actions yesterday were unbecoming of a professional of my standing,” it continued. “I was… vexed by my lack of progress, which is in no part due to your effect on the patient. It is clear your set of skills differ from my own, and I should attempt to understand them, not place blame where there is none.”

It gave a slight bow of its head, though its eyes never left your face.

“I also broke our covenant, disregarding your wishes so soon after you voiced them. But I have gained clarity since our separation, and if you will allow me the chance to prove my integrity, I swear this breach will not happen again.”

It shuffled closer, once against stopped by the chain. Its eyes beseeched you to listen, and you found yourself unable to do anything else.

“I ask for your forgiveness but understand if you do not grant it. If we must part ways here, I hope we may do so as colleagues. But I do hope you will stay. It is my wish for you to continue to assist me in my work. It is… quite important to me.”

The SCP stopped speaking, waiting for your response. A response that wasn’t forthcoming. You wanted to parse through each word, study it to unravel what the SCP was truly saying, because it couldn’t be a simple apology. Could it?

When several seconds passed and nothing was said, you could practically sense the burn of Leahy’s gaze on your back through the observation glass.

“I forgive you,” you said, your words no longer stiff or flat.

Because strangely enough, you did. Its outbursts and abrupt changes in mood weren’t truly its fault, no more than any SCP was to blame for its existence. Unpredictable behavior was part of SCP-049’s nature. You had upset it, and it had responded. Stimuli and reaction. It wasn’t personal.

No. What seemed personal were the guards’ brutality and the unnecessary application of chains and a shock collar.

You eyed the heavy manacles.

“And I agree to continue to be your assistant.”

Not like you had a choice in the matter—the Site Director was forcing this role on you whether you wanted it or not—but the SCP’s reaction made it a little easier to bear. It visibly perked up, head lifting to meet your gaze, eyes bright. A far cry than the dull, stony grey they’d been when the containment doors had parted and it saw the damage it had done upon your throat.

“I truly am grateful for this second chance.”

The SCP really did sound sincere, its mechanical voice warm and satisfied. It was unexpected. You hadn’t realized it was capable of sounding so… well, almost affectionate.

“Our collaboration in the coming days is something I look forward to with great anticipation,” it crooned. The praise was so genuine, so eager, you had to look away. Your gaze landed on the one-way mirror, and you gave a subtle nod, indicating you were ready for what happened next, even if you truly weren’t.

At least you and the 049 were cooperating now. That was something.

“We are ready to start,” the SCP announced to the observation glass, behaving as if it were in charge of the tests despite the fact it had about as much control over the situation as you did.

The chain detached itself from the metal collar by remote control, letting the SCP have free roam of the containment chambers again. The Site Director must have been ready for the next round of experiments, and you dreaded what he had in store for you.

For both of you.

You blamed the SCP’s uncharacteristic apology influencing your own behavior for what happened next. You approached its side, taking your place between it and the doctor’s bag, your notebook and pen at the ready as you picked them up from the lab counter. You kept your voice low, lips barely moving.

“It’s good to see you’re still in one piece.”

I’m glad they didn’t hurt you worse.

The SCP may have understood what you didn’t say aloud, or maybe it just knew the need for discretion, because it turned only enough to catch you in the corner of its eye.

It tilted its head by a fraction. You couldn’t tell if the gesture was an acknowledgement or curiosity, but its gaze lingered all the same.

Next Chapter

#scp 049 #scp 049 x reader #scp foundation #wolveria writes #scp fanfiction #the raven's hymn

[tobiasdrake]

We've had a hell of a day and I want to go home. And pour one out for a dear friend.

His death is a heavy weight on all of our hearts. He will be sorely missed. By us. By the Master Detectives. By every booze retailer in town. Truly, Kanai Ward is lesser without him.

That doesn't sound like good guy talk. We've succeeded in bringing an end to the internal strife plaguing Amaterasu, and helped Makoto to consolidate his power into an unapproachable citadel of control.

...let's hope for the best! d(^_^d)

EVERYBODY DIED MAKOTO.

Our boss DIED.

The scientist we were supposed to question DIED.

Vivia LIVED and he's mad about it.

I'm glad you're happy but this was a complete shitshow on my end. Even if you wind up being a well-meaning saint I still kind of hate you for manipulating us into this.

Yomi manipulated Yakou into killing Huesca. Makoto manipulated Yuma into distracting Yomi. The entire Nocturnal Agency was the ball in a game of power between these two rich dipshits today.

I'm mad about it and I want to hit something, but I'm powerless in the face of the corporate machinations that have taken place here. All I can do is go home, cry about it, and pour my grief into a big pot of my arsenic and battery acid stew. T_T It was Chief's favorite.

Maybe YOUR FACE is just a rumor.

...

That comeback hits so much differently when delivered to a man never seen without a mask. At this time, Makoto's face is, in fact, a rumor. There exists no evidence of it being real.

So what I'm hearing is "Anywhere but the Restricted Area." Not the Restricted Area, where we're at now, but the Restricted Area Restricted Area. The one nobody ever goes to, not even Peacekeepers, but there are allegedly shipments of corpses being trucked in.

Where we will most likely find the secret secret lab, instead of this classified secret lab.

Of course, even trying to go there at all is fucking reckless. I don't know how we're going to sell that to Yak--

...

...

T_T

Makoto, that looks like a ring box. So help me, if the next words out of your mouth are "You can give this to Kurumi when you propose" then I'm going straight to prison in the cell next to Yomi.

Yomi: The hell are you in for? Yuma: Punched Makoto square in the dick.

I hope it's a bomb.

I mean. I do not. Hope it's a bomb. For obvious reasons. Because I do not want to open a bomb present.

But if it is a bomb, then at least we'll be able to brush away the ambiguity and know exactly where to stand on the Makoto subject. I would rather know that he's the enemy than continue to have to wonder.

Halara, Yakou's been stone dead for at least ten minutes. You can stop with the chest compressions. There isn't a medical technician in this world that can bring him back from what I-- uh, the deadly assassin Fink did to him.

In seriousness, I talk a lot about how much of a poser Halara is. That they are not an emotionless stoic mercenary but try very hard to give off the image of an emotionless stoic mercenary. The traumatized desperation visible in Halara's unceasing attempts to resuscitate a body that has to be cold by now speaks volumes to the character buried beneath their façade.

We'll go home and pour one out for him.

...does anyone else drink alcohol in this group? We may wind up pouring a lot out for him.

It's okay. We got to say our goodbyes. Don't ask what that means.

BESTIE NO. There's a very important moment of frozen time in recent events! If you make me have to do the Mystery Labyrinth and kill Yakou all over again, then so help me I will give you passive-aggressive silence for at least three days.

...

Come to think of it, Fubuki would be a perfect lifehack answer to the whole "Mystery Labyrinth reaps the soul of the victim" conundrum. We use the Labyrinth, find the deeply held secrets, and then grab her hand and skip back a few seconds over that frozen moment. Bob's your uncle, we know everything and no one had to die for it.

Fubuki can fix the central moral conundrum baked into the premise.

No, he's been through a lot. We spent hours undergoing an important emotional and philosophical journey five minutes ago. He's exhausted. I can't blame him.

This is, once again, the recurring theme. The Mystery Labyrinth reveals tons of information but doesn't help. Whoop-de-dee, we learned about Yomi's corruption in the most secret hidden truth the Labyrinth held. Didn't matter. Makoto already got that information another way and confronted Yomi without our involvement.

The effect is mitigated only because Yakou was already dying. But otherwise it'd be another reaping of a soul for no goddamn reason whatsoever. In chapters 1 and 2, we reaped souls that didn't deserve it. In 3 and 4, the killings we committed contributed nothing of value whatsoever to the predicaments we were in.

Going into the Mystery Labyrinth never does anything good. How could it? It's a murder weapon. That's all it can be. I've been saying non-stop about the Peacekeepers that they are an institution of violence that exists for the sole purpose of violence and cannot be anything but violence. The same is true of the Mystery Labyrinth.

It only exists to kill.

Oh good, Kurumi's here to offer half-informed advice about how it's super-virtuous that Yuma's killing people like this.

Okay Kurumi, I'm not gonna be too hostile 'cause I like you now. Let's hear what you've got.

Oh, no, that has nothing to do with us. Don't even try to blame yourself for that.

In fact, it's the biggest irony of the case. After all that fuss we made, running out the door and trusting that his lanky bones won't keep up with us, it barely even mattered. Yakou's plan for tonight's entertainment was to round everyone up and take them to the same place I snuck out to visit anyway.

In fact, if we hadn't roped Makoto into our shenanigans, everything would have played out the way Yomi planned it, and it would have ended with all of us being shot Halara putting a few more dead cops on my tab.

If you think about it that way, your questionable plan to go ask Makoto to his face if he's doing shady shit was the curve ball that saved the day, Kurumi. You should take a victory lap. You gambled it all on black and came away with a big score.

In a roundabout butterfly-effect chain-reaction sort of way, Kurumi Wendy took down Yomi Hellsmile. Don't fuck with high school girls, man. They're feral.

Do YOU have the answer to Photo Lady's identity!?

Kurumi, you are this close to getting Best Informant in Kanai Ward validation from me. That's not an accomplishment. You're the only informant in Kanai Ward. But still.

BOOM, Photo Lady. Figured it was something like that.

Unfortunately, Huesca was conspiring with Yomi, the head of the Peacekeepers. So. Obviously. The Peacekeepers weren't going to arrest Huesca over it, were they?

No, when you're in a pincer trap like that, there's only one outcome. She fell off a balcony onto some bullets. Accidental death.

Yakou is no different from the Theater Girls in chapter 2. Someone close to him was murdered in a city where justice is a farce. Abusers thrive and victims get fucked. Even murder's just part of the game that unchecked capitalism is playing on its people. What other recourse did he possibly have?

When murder gets rewarded and cries for justice are brutally punished, the only option left to you is to become a murderer.

It explains a lot about his behavior since we got here. Ever since the WDO burdened him with this huge investigation, Yakou's position has effectively been, "Guys, I'm begging you, PLEASE don't get me killed before I do."

I'm not onboard with the overarching message of "Conviction is more important than being right or wrong," which keeps getting brought up. I think a lot of people have done terrible things with absolute conviction in what they were doing. It's good to doubt yourself and question if you're making the right choices.

But as a character beat, I respect this for Yakou. I honestly think, like the Theater Girls, Yakou did nothing wrong. But I can believe that Yakou believed that what he was doing was immoral. That on some level, a part of him was like, "Dude, we're really going to go full murder-suicide?"

But he chose to follow his feelings and do what his gut wanted him to do, even if it's "bad". He was true to himself, to the very end. That's why he was able to face Shinigami's oblivion with a smile on his face.

In a roundabout way, I think Yakou came close to my own philosophy of morality. He just phrased it differently.

#master detective archives: rain code #drake plays rain code