#i salvaged some parts of that computer

[itsalltooloud]

well i’ve never been to paris.. but i’ve been to oklahoma

#photography #urban photography #landscape photography #nature #winter #fall #winter photography #fall photography #oklahoma #glimpses of oklahoma #i salvaged some parts of that computer #someone threw it off the side of the road from the looks of it #mine

[usafphantom2]

SR-71 “Ichi-Ban” – Buried in the Deepest Ocean on Earth

Throughout the 60s, Lockheed Skunk Works were building some incredible aircraft – the A-12 Oxcart and SR-71 were and still are some of the fastest vehicles ever made. These technical achievements were incredible. Before home computing and the internet, there were aircraft capable of more than 2,000 mph.

But, being on the bleeding edge of technology comes with risks. Either through lack of understanding or difficulty in manufacturing parts to tight enough tolerances, accidents can and will happen. This was to be the unfortunate fate of the SR-71 known as “Ichi-Ban”.

The Lockheed SR-71, known as the ‘Habu’.

SR-71 #61-17974 was based at Kadena AFB, Okinawa, Japan and made quite the scene for the locals who lived close by.

Read More: Lockheed SR-71 Blackbird – The Plane Designed to Leak

The unusual aircraft drew a lot of attention thanks to the unusual shape and jet black paintwork. The SR-71 became known as the ‘Habu’ locally, thanks to its resemblance to the Habu Pit Viper.

The Habu Viper.

The shape of the Habu Viper’s head has a strong resemblance to the SR-71.

As these aircraft were spyplanes, pilots did not become aces in the traditional sense, but with every mission flown a Habu was painted onto the side of the Blackbird. Once amassing 5 missions complete the crew would be considered an ace.

#61-17974 had the most operational missions complete and a large Habu was painted on the tail of the aircraft as a mark of respect. The snake was wrapped around a red ‘1’ and in the local language, ‘number one’ translated to ‘Ichi-Ban’.

The SR-71 known as "Ichi-Ban".

In April of 1989, just like many missions flown before, Pilot Lt. Col Dan House took Ichi-Ban into the skies above Kadena and everything seemed normal.

Nothing was reported by House or by his RSO Blair Bozek that would indicate any issue.

That was until House pushed the throttles on the pair of J-58 engines to maximum power. As Ichi-Ban hit Mach 3.0 the bearing in the left-hand compressor failed and caused the immediate destruction of the engine whilst travelling at over 2,000 mph.

The Wreckage of SR-71 "Ichi-Ban".

The damage from hitting the water was immense.

As the J-58 exploded, shrapnel was sent flying damaging the SR-71 and most critically severing hydraulic lines. Even the best and most experienced pilots ever would not be able to save such a badly damaged plane.

House did not give up, incredibly aware that the death of his RSO and himself was imminent, he managed to steer the Blackbird into a shallow descent and decelerate as quickly as possible.

Ejecting from aircraft is not a pleasant experience for anyone involved and doing it at Mach 3 would have been suicide.

The US could not let the wreckage fall into the hands of the Chinese government.

It was extremely important to recover the wreckage as the technology was highly classified.

However, extreme skill combined with a lot of luck meant that the wounded aircraft found itself below 10,000 at low enough speed for both House and Bozek to safely eject. They landed in the sea where some local fishermen came to their rescue.

Ichi-Ban continued going down and eventually smashed into the waters of the South China Sea.

Despite the age of the SR-71, the US could not let the wreckage be recovered by the Chinese. It was too technically advanced. It was not long before the wreckage had been salvaged and transported back to the Kadena Air Force base.

The tail of Ichi-Ban.

There were several options of what they could do with the wreckage of Ichi-Ban: scrap the aircraft and sell the metal to the highest bidder in Okinawa, send it back to the US for disposal, or bury it.

Typically the fastest and least expensive option was chosen.

Read More: The F-22 Raptor – The Fighter of the Future

But, the story does not end there – the Pacific Air Force would not permit burial of the aircraft at Kadena because facilities were constantly under construction for new tenants. Meaning that it may be a possibility that it would need to be dug up and moved somewhere else.

The SR-71 was an important aircraft to many.

Crews were very fond of the SR-71. Fitting that a full military honours burial was done to see her off.

Burial at sea seemed the most fitting option but required help from the US Navy. After all of the bureaucracy was settled the SR-71 #61-17974 was transferred to a waiting vessel.

Her remains were taken out to sea on Christmas Eve 1989 and buried with full military honours. Pushed off the side of the vessel, Ichi-Ban sank 25,597 feet into the ocean where she lies at the bottom of the Mariana Trench.

Are there any SR-71 still flying?

Though the SR-71 still holds the record for the highest altitude in horizontal flight, it’s no longer in use. In fact, Clarence “Kelly” Johnson designed this aircraft for Lockheed with the latest technology of the time. The plane’s pilots even required special suits to survive the extreme conditions the planes created. However, the US retired the planes in 1989 for political reasons and would only have brief reinstatement during the 1990s, after which the US permanently retired them.

@Stealthy360 via X

#sr 71 blackbird #usaf #lockheed martin #spy plane #mach3 #habu

[artificialgirl]

This is the fourth part of a long-form piece about a robot and a giant computer. It contains adult topics, overt sexuality, blatant robotfuckery, toxic lesbians, unbalanced power dynamics, wireplay, and lots of other things that may be triggering or make you uncomfy. Before reading this, previous chapters are on my blog under the #salvage tag.

THIS IS THE CHAPTER WHERE EXPLICIT SHIT STARTS HAPPENING! If you're uncomfortable with high-intensity robot bondage stuff, I highly reccomend you don't read from this point onward.

Salvage - 04

Time inside - 04D/11H/23M

Levels deep - 50

It's been two days in the room, and you're starting to lose it. Since Ven left you here, you've explored every inch of the empty space, inspected every tool on the table, pulled at every panel, tried the door more times than you can count. You even tried messing with the cable she gave you a bit- If it's removable, you definitely aren't the one who can get it out of your charging port. You're bored to death, and the only entertainment you have is trying to make sense of the foreign datafeed still passing through your thoughts.

It's not like there isn't a way out of the room. Ven made it clear that all you needed to do was call for her and she'd come to bring you whatever you needed. You're sure that would include anything to help pass the time, but each time you start to consider that you push the thought away. It's a matter of principle. Whether she means for you to be or not, you're her prisoner here, and giving in to relying on her would only make that more true.

You sit on the floor with your back to the charging bay you no longer fit in thanks to the cable, absentmindedly swinging at the panel beneath you with one of the pry wrenches from the table. Thin cracks spread across it each time you make contact, almost instantly fading as the material self-repairs. The thought strikes you that Ven might be able to feel the strikes in the same way you feel your plating, and you're filled with guilt. You slide the wrench across the floor, and it makes a soft thunk as it collides with the wall.

Somehow, despite the overwhelming boredom, your emotions are too much right now. You pull your knees to your chest and bury your screen in them, trying to compose yourself and slow your fans a bit. You want to call for Ven, you want to ask her not to leave again, to stay and let you listen to her pretty voice, but you can't. You can't let yourself crumple that easily, no matter how much better it would make you feel. Instead, you try to focus your attention on getting out.

You've tried the door and the walls, but they're all sealed with no way to get a grip on them and pry them apart. The ceiling, though... Your focus shifts to the spot above you where the ceiling panels split to allow your cable to hang through. You shuffle a bit to the side, and as the cable glides behind you the panels silently ripple open to make way for its movement along their perpendicular seams. Your assessment that the room was inescapable may have been premature.

You bring the cord's entry point over to the table, kicking away some of the tools as you climb on top of it. The entry point doesn't look like much more than a few centimeters of parting between the ceiling panels, but that should be all you need. You're just barely tall enough on your toes to jam your fingers into the gap, putting all the force you can into trying to spread the tiles.

While they may have removed all of your weaponry when they activated you, your body IS still that of a combat unit, which means the limb strength to pry and tear through basically anything you can get a firm grip on. They put up a good fight, but eventually the panels buckle and form a gap around the cable big enough for you to hoist your body through. You pull yourself up into the ceiling, and you're out. Easy.

It's evident as you crawl through the cramped space between the panels and the layers of endless machinery that it's not designed for anything but survey arms. You can see dozens of them around you as you drag your cable forward, lenses pressed to the cracks in the ceiling, looking down into the room you were just in. Ven is almost certainly already aware you're gone, but it should at least be much harder for her to track down your exact location and detain you when you're in here.

At this point, the plan is a mix of panic and vague ideas. If you can crawl to the exterior where you came in, you could potentially stay connected to the cable while you signalled the corporation to come retrieve you. There's a good 30% chance they'd repair you instead of taking you apart for scrap, and you're still weighing whether or not those odds are worth taking. You push onward and try not to think much about how this plan requires you to ascend 50 floors without being caught by the near-omniscient being whose body you're inside.

As you drag yourself towards the vague idea of a next destination, you find yourself marveling at the bits of technology you pass. Though most of what's used to keep Ven operational is sandwiched away in the thick segments between levels, you still see frequent reminders of what makes her work scattered and embedded in every surface. Whirring fans, twitching motors, glowing apparatuses you couldn't even begin to guess the purpose of. Then, the path narrows and you find yourself face to face with something you've only seen in design data.

A huge cable interchange fills the entirety of the path in front of you, its dim multicolored glow illuminating the constant action which fills its center. In every wall of the hollow cube, dozens of thick cables are plugged, being removed and replaced and slid around the area to different ports entirely autonomously. You watch mesmerized for a moment, in disbelief at how so many extended cables could be moving in the same space that quickly without tying themselves into a giant knot. Everything is perfectly optimized to move data to different sectors of Ven's structure through wired connections as quickly as possible.

Your amazement fades a bit as you realize that on either side of the interchange is a wall that stretches as far as you can see in each direction. You can see that the space continues on the other side of the interchange, but... Moving through there seems like it's going to be a problem. It's that or turning around and crawling at least a few more kilometers to find another way, so... Interchange it is. It will be fine. You'll stick to the edges, and be through to the other side as quickly as you went in.

You keep your body low to the ground as you drop into the interchange's basin, trying to huddle as close to the corner as possible as you dash from one side to the other. Wires fly on all sides of you, and you duck to narrowly avoid one which nearly snares you by the neck. It looks like you're home clear, though. Just a few more steps until you're at the other edge, and...

As you cross the threshold, you feel something holding you back. You turn and see a dark cable wrapped in a loop around your ankle, thrashing against you in an attempt to get to its designated port. Shit. You try to shake your leg free from the straining cable and find yourself losing the battle, slowly being dragged back into the cube of the interchange despite your scrambling against its pull. The edge of the box reverberates as your hands are ripped away from it, and the cable finally slots into its intended destination with a pop as it pulls you into the air by your ankle. You dangle helplessly upside down and try desperately to wriggle free as the interchange races around you.

A second cable zips around your waist with an L shape, scissoring your body between it and another with an almost mirrored position. More quickly than you even have time to fight against, cables wrap themselves around your body as they rush from destination to destination. Before you know it, you're dangling precariously in the middle of the chamber and bound too tightly to even struggle. You can feel them pressing into you, tightening themselves so much as they strain towards out-of-reach ports that a lesser model's plating would crumple under the force.

They really, really seem to hate how tangled they are. Maybe almost as much as you do. They fling themselves wildly in any and every direction, seemingly unable to comprehend the reason they can't access what they're meant to be accessing. And so, unable to plug themselves into the right places, they settle for the next best thing.

You feel the first plug jam itself into one of the ports on your hip panel, which hangs open and exposed in the commotion. You cry out as the instant rush of data floods your head, making you squirm against the binding cables in a different way than before. Your thrashing stops almost entirely as the ability to feel the cable wrapped around your own body, twitching and pulling against so many others, becomes the only thing you can process.

The cables don't wait for what you can process, though- Almost immediately, each of the dozen ports on the panel are filled with wires, removing themselves and being instantly replaced every few seconds when they briefly realize your body isn't the right port. The dataflow is overwhelming and all-consuming, filling your fuzzy thoughts with ecstasy and forcefully squeezing out the ability to feel anything else.

You're barely even moving anymore- Your ensnared body spasms occasionally, but any will you had to even think about struggling against the pleasure is long-gone. It's hard to tell how much time passes- It could be seconds, it could be years. Everything else has faded away to the feeling surging through you, including your concept of time itself.

You don't notice as the panels around the interchange fold out and open up, revealing your predicament to the rooms below. You don't notice as a figure rises to your level, examining the mess you've gotten yourself into and shaking her head. You barely even notice as the interchange powers down, dropping your limp and twitching body into Ven's inviting arms.

You register that you're comfortable, that you feel safe, that everything that was scary is now gone. You register that her body is larger, more complete, packed tightly with more woven survey arms than you can count as she holds you against her chest. You look up at her, unfocused cameras barely able to see the red glow of her face, and you register that she's beautiful. Then, everything is dark.

#robophilia #robotfucker #ns4w #cw suggestive #robot yuri #wireplay #robot4robot #pov #longer form #salvage #cw rope #cw intense #ven-55 #aelith-03

[thee-ghosty]

Snippet #8

part 2 part 3

Civilian couldn’t have possibly predicted that just 40 minutes after their shift at the local bar, they would be covered in blood, have a random stranger in a mask bleeding out on their couch, and frantically looking up how to stop blood loss. 

They expected today to be just like every other day of their boring life. They passed by one of the alleys on their normal route home when a loud crash stopped them in their tracks. They could have ignored it and not gotten into this mess, but they had a vendetta against common sense, so naturally they had to go see what happened. A few moments later, they were arguing with a stranger, bleeding profusely onto the concrete, about getting them to a hospital. The stranger were adamant that they would be fine, they just needed to get home…which was on the complete other side of town. More bickering ensued before they settled on the current situation; Civilian nursing an almost dead person back to life. 

Civilian’s eyes frantically dragged across the computer screen until an answer popped up. 

“Apply direct pressure on the cut or wound with a clean cloth, tissue, or piece of gauze until bleeding stops. If blood soaks through the material, don't remove it. Put more cloth or gauze on top of it and continue to apply pressure.”

“Okay…okay. I can do this. I got this. Right.” Civilian muttered under their breath.

This was absolutely insane, they knew that and they were a breath away from having a panic attack, but they pressed on nonetheless. They rushed to the bathroom to get towels, some painkillers and a bottle of water before returning to the masked stranger on their couch. Their breath was shallow, but they were still awake. That’s a good sign, right? Civilian questioned. The stranger’s hands still covered over the wound, red slowly dripping through their fingers. 

“You need to move your hands, alright? I gotta cover the wound.” Civilian said with a quiver in their voice.

The stranger slowly shifted their hands away from their side, exposing the extent of the damage. It was a miracle that Civilian hadn't passed out from the sight. They had no idea how deep the wound was, but the amount of blood seeping through the person’s suit and into Civilian’s couch made them wonder how this person was still breathing.

The stranger hissed as Civilian placed the soft towel to their side, hoping they were applying enough pressure. Hell, hoping anything they were doing would actually help. What would they do if the stranger dies? In their apartment no less? 

They pushed the dread from their mind and thought of how they were going to get the blood out of everything. The towels they could wash, but the couch might not be salvageable...Wait. That's not important right now. Focus, Civilian. They mentally told themselves.

“I have some painkillers. Here, let me-”

“Painkillers won’t do shit.” The stranger said through gritted teeth.

"I mean, anything at this point will help. You might feel better if you would just let me take you to a hospital-”

“No.” 

“Why not? You have a problem with doctors or something?” Civilian questioned, frustration slipping into their voice. 

“No, they have a problem with me.” They replied. 

Civilian huffed. On the cusp of death and they're still acting like an ass. Maybe they should’ve left them in that alley after all. Civilian pressed harder, causing the stranger to grunt out in pain. They shot Civilian a fiery look. 

“Oh, did that hurt?” Civilian asked with faux sympathy, “I’m sorry my bedside manner isn’t up to your standards.”

“I didn’t ask for your help, you know. I would’ve been fine.”

“Oh, so I was supposed to leave you there to die? Yeah, no. That wasn’t going to happen.” 

The stranger looked at Civilian with pinched brows. “Why do you care anyway?”

Civilian held their gaze before shifting back to their hands, trying to figure out why they did care. “I guess it’s just human instinct. We don’t like to see people suffer.” 

The stranger scoffed at Civilian’s words. “Yeah, just like humans don’t mind hunting down their own kind for sport.” 

Civilian gave them a quick glance before placing another cloth over the now soaked through towel. “Can you say anything that isn’t angsty? Or is that a part of your ‘character’?” 

“Character?” The stranger asked, sounding almost offended. 

“You know, the mask and the costume. Is that character super edgy or do you talk like this all the time?”

Something stilled in the stranger, their eyes sharpening as they stared at Civilian. “You don’t know who I am, do you?” They asked slowly. 

“No…am I supposed to? I’m not super into comics or anything like that, so I probably wouldn’t know even if you tell me.” Civilian replied nonchalantly. 

“Does the name Venraire sound familiar to you?”

Civilian paused. Venraire was a big crime boss that caused mass destruction to the city a few years ago. Even though he was brought to justice, nothing could’ve made up for all the lives lost to him. Civilian slowly looked to the stranger, their heart thumping louder in their chest. A small smile traced the stranger’s lips, a darkness coming to their eyes. 

“He’s my father."

Oh shit.

To be continued...

#lmk if you want this to continue #idk what i'm doing #civilian x villain #hero x villain #villains and heroes #writers on tumblr #writeblr #snippet #villain

[lulu24784]

washing machine heart | part 8

"I know who you pretend I am."

[AO3 Link] previous chapter | next chapter

synopsis: | You're absolutely infatuated with Stan Marsh and have even started dating him! It should be a dream come true, but the truth is, he's only with you to make Wendy Testaburger jealous. To help you work through your emotions, you turn to Kenny McCormick, your best friend.

pairings: | kenny mccormick x fem! reader ; stan marsh x fem! reader ; wendy testaburger x stan marsh

cws: | angst, drug use/drug mentions, explicit language, sexual content, unrequited love, mental health themes / sh

everyone is aged up to be 18+

Stan knew he had fucked up. Trying to deny it was a waste of time. He had lied right to your face. He wasn’t even drinking with his friends. He had been drinking alone in his room and lamenting every single mistake he had made in life. The next thing he knew, he was drunk and on his way to Wendy’s home.

It was bad. He knew that. He begged her to give him another chance, despite the fact that he was already dating you. When Wendy threw him out, he went to your place. Some type of date was planned for the two of you. He didn’t even care. It didn’t matter to him. Sure, you were cute… But you weren’t her. That’s probably why he left you with no remorse. You were blessed, in all honesty. He was a jackass, and you should have been able to do much better than him. That much was clear to him. He didn’t want to hurt you.

There was no use in trying to salvage your relationship now, so he decided to cut his losses. It was short anyway.. You’d get over it pretty quickly; he figured. It was a mistake to invite you into his fucked-up existence. He was going to hurt you in the same way that he hurt Wendy, and he didn’t want to subject you to that. At least, that’s what he told himself.

Really and sincerely… He felt like he didn’t deserve to be happy anyway.

After Wendy left him, he started dating you out of selfishness. He was such a prick. He even knew of Kenny’s crush on you and he fucking did it anyway… Just to feel better about himself. He even became envious, believing Kenny would whisk you away, despite the fact that he had no right to be so possessive of you. Looking at how attached you are to each other… His chest ached from it.

It’s not like he actually really liked you like that…

Right?

The thought made him feel nauseous.

You were kind and thoughtful. You tolerated his whining and bitching as well as the godawful ‘dates’ he brought you on that were really just his pitiful efforts to get into your pants… Which he couldn’t even do without chickening out. Truthfully, he was glad you two stopped the last time. If anything had really happened, this would be so much messier.

God, he felt like such a mess.

Surely he’d regret all of this in the morning.

Kyle was sitting at his computer busily working on his schoolwork while Stan lay, sprawled out on the floor of his bedroom, watching the spinning ceiling above him.

“I told you, dude. You just need to focus on yourself for a bit and stop drinking so much.”

“Fuck you, dude. You don’t get it. My life is just… It’s shit. I’m shit. Wendy fuckin’ hates me and now so does [Name].”

While Stan rambled on drunkenly, Kyle rolled his eyes and went back to his homework.

“She was sweet, too. I’m such a fuck-up.”

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

The rest of the night was a blur.

You don’t remember how you got to bed, and you certainly don’t remember the moment when your weeping finally wore you out enough to need to go to sleep.

After a long night of crying, you woke up with swollen eyes and a splitting headache. The mattress underneath you seemed as if it would swallow you whole if you moved, and the blankets that wrapped you were so comfortable and soft that you didn’t want to move in the first place. Unfortunately, it was a Monday morning, and you had to get ready for class.

You pulled yourself out of bed and stomped slowly into the bathroom, where you washed the sleep from your face. When you checked your reflection, you looked quite haggard. There was no amount of makeup that could hide the fact that you had spent the whole night bawling. Sighing, you got ready nevertheless, using concealer to try to hide it as best you could.

“For fuck’s sake…” Mumbling, brushing the knots out of your hair.

Today was a sweatpants and hoodie type of day. You weren’t in the mood to make any effort with your look today. What was the point? There was no longer anybody you needed to impress.

Today also felt like a “Skip breakfast” kind of day. You were certain that if you ate anything, it would come back up immediately, so you didn’t want to take a chance.

The morning stroll to school began as you gathered your books and bag and stepped outside. The chilly air felt refreshing on your cheeks, and you could see little puffs of air form on your exhale. Although the frigid Colorado winter was generally unpleasant, today it was welcomed. It was fantastic to be able to tune out your negative thoughts and instead concentrate only on the chill in the air. You’d be happy if you could just sit outdoors and let freezing air bite your skin forever.

It wasn’t until long that you made it to school. Taking a few steps closer to the entrance, you could make out the four usual boys, causing a commotion.

Eric calling Kyle a Jew.

Kyle calling Eric a fatass.

Stan grumbling about how stupid they were.

Stan…

You paused in your forward motion and looked around the group, your gaze inevitably landing on Stan. He seemed worn out and dishevelled, most likely hungover. When he saw you were staring, you swiftly turned away and entered the building. He called out to you, but you ignored him and kept on. You also heard a muffled call from your closest friend, Kenny.

Ah, fuck.

You totally forgot to check your phone to see whether he had ever responded. Of course, it no longer mattered. Although you knew he meant well, a little part of you was nonetheless disappointed that he hadn’t been there when you needed him. Boys really were the worst.

You walked up to your locker, dumped your things inside, and got out your textbook for the next period. A female standing next to you startled you as you were about to shut the locker door.

A purple beret on jet-black hair.

Wendy Testaburger.

“Jesus Christ, you scared me.” You clutched your chest as you wheezed.

Giggling a little, she smiled at you. “Sorry, [Name.]” She looked away for a second, then stepped closer to you, meeting your eyes with a worried expression. “Can we talk for a minute? It’s really important.”

“Uh… Yeah, sure. Um, what’s up?”

Chewing on the inside of your cheek, you shifted awkwardly. What could Wendy possibly want to talk with you about? Did she already know Stan dumped you? Was she here to tell you they got back together and then laugh in your face?

You gave Wendy your undivided attention as you looked into her eyes.

She exhaled. It was clear that something was bothering her a lot…

“[Name]… Um… Stan. He… He showed up at my place yesterday.”

You felt the static in your ears pick up again, and a rush of nervous energy ran through your body. As you listened to her, you felt a tingling sensation spreading across every part of you.

“He… He was begging me to get back with him.”

The pit of your stomach started to churn, and you could feel your heart pounding against the inside of your chest. Your grip on the textbooks you were holding started to get shaky. Wendy seemed to have noticed, and she put her hand on your arm, presumably in an effort to help settle you down a little. You let her.

“I know you two are together, so I kicked him out. I wanted to text you but.. I don’t have your phone number and all of your socials are private, so I don’t think you got any of the messages I sent.”

“Y-You’re kidding…”

Almost immediately, your hand went to your pocket, and you pulled your phone out of it. You glanced at the roughly thirty missed messages from Kenny, but you quickly dismissed them and opened up Coonstagram instead, going straight to your message requests. Sure enough, there they were.

“I wanted you to know from me first, before word gets out, y’know? Rumors always spread pretty fast here..” Wendy murmured, staring at you as you perused the text messages she had sent.

A little part of you hoped she was exaggerating, attempting to fuck with you… However, you made the decision to go with your gut this time and take her word for it. You noted the time that the messages were sent after giving them a closer look and analyzing them more closely.

4pm.

Stan came over around 5pm.

The wheels in your head turned. He visited Wendy before coming to your house…

Was he going to cheat on you before your date? Did he just feel so guilty about it he dumped you?

He was drunk though… So his mind was probably all messed up…

But he still did it.

Your breathing became harder, and you felt like you were about to cry again. You felt tingles all over, and your stomach wrenched. In retrospect, skipping breakfast was the right call.

That was the last thing going through your mind as you sprinted by Wendy and emptied the contents of your stomach into a trash can not far away, dropping your textbook in the process. Other students gasped and bolted, exclaiming, “Ew!” while you sobbed and vomited.

As you continued to vomit, a kind hand stroked circles on your back and another pulled your hair back. Upon looking up, you saw Wendy. She smiled sadly as you retched again and continued to attempt to calm you down with her touch.

“Oh hamburgers! Is your little buddy going to be okay, Wendy?”

“I think so. Thanks for the concern, Butters.”

While you buried your head in the garbage, you overheard Wendy talking to some of the other students. You forgot how popular she was. To everyone else, her soothing you in this way must appear extremely out of the ordinary.

“Hey Wendy! Oh, ew! Gross! Oh my god! Did you tell her?!”

That sounded like Wendy’s friend, Bebe. Although you had never spoken with her before, you could immediately identify her voice. As you spat out the nauseating vomit taste from your lips, you heard someone else approach.

“Damn, poor girl. You told her, hey?”

Heidi Turner.

You groaned and sat back as you completed the process of purging your stomach. A napkin immediately hit your lips as Wendy knelt down and wiped your face for you.

“Are you alright?”

“Y-Yeah… I think so.” You gave Wendy a hesitant nod, still unsure as to why she was being so compassionate towards you. She lifted you up with a kind hand and dusted the dirt from your clothing.

“Good. I’m really sorry, [Name].”

“I mean, it’s not your fault…” you mumbled as you embraced yourself. You cast an eye across at the other two females who had shifted to stand by Wendy. You could feel everyone’s attention on you, which caused you to feel uneasy for a moment.

“Um… Why… Why are you being so nice to me?” You looked down at the ground. “Shouldn’t you hate me or something? For dating Stan?”

Wendy, Bebe, and Heidi all shared a laugh. In that instant, you felt tiny.

“I don’t hate you! If anything, I felt bad for you. I know how Stan is.. I’ve been through it too.” She smiled. “Honestly, I thought you hated me. Stan talked a lot of shit when we broke up.”

“Haha, right?!” Bebe chimed in.

“I wanted to reach out but just kind of figured it wasn’t my place.”

You gazed at Wendy, astounded at how thoughtful she was. You were ecstatic that she was nothing like you had anticipated. Being able to sense genuine concern was wonderful.

“Well, thank you.” Your voice was gentle. “For uh, telling me. Oh, and for holding my hair back.” You and the three girls all laughed. You forced a hesitant “Um” out before grinning dejectedly. “Stan dumped me last night anway, so…”

“Ugh, fucking prick.” Heidi scowled, her arms crossed.

“Girl, you deserve way better anyway.” Bebe moved so her arm was over your shoulder. You felt your cheeks heat up from the closeness; you only ever got this type of attention from Kenny. “We should find you a new man! Or… Woman?” She winked at you, arching an eyebrow in a way that made you flush even more. You stuttered, unable to say anything coherent. Just like your best friend, she was a total flirt.

“Hey, hey…” Wendy interjected, taking your hand in hers and giving you the most adorable smile you’ve ever seen. “Give her some time, you vixen.” She laughed. “Let her get over Stan first. I know it can be a little difficult.” She winked at you with understanding as she pulled you away from Bebe. “How about you sit with us at lunch? We can talk more about it after class.”

“Yeah, Heidi and Wendy can tell you ALL about how to deal with breakups.” Bebe snickered, while the other two gave her dirty looks.

“Sure…” Your voice squeaked as you attempted to smile for the group.

“Perfect! We’ll see you then!” Wendy smiled, squeezed your hand briefly, and then released it. As the three of them walked together to class, they waved goodbye.

You waved back and picked up your book from the floor, where you’d apparently dropped it. You were ready to settle down and go to class when you saw the familiar group of boys making their way into the school.

Eric didn’t direct his attention to you, thank god.

Kyle met your eyes and smiled sadly at you. He was aware of the situation without a doubt.

Stan never looked up from the floor. Your chest felt tight.

Kenny hurried over to you as soon as he could, an expression of worry visible in his eyes.

As he drew nearer, he took off his hood, showing his face and making his anxiety VERY evident. You smiled nervously and waved at him, and he instantly embraced you tightly, forcing your face against his chest. He looked down at you as he drew away while placing his hands on your shoulders.

“You never responded back! Are you okay?!” His voice was frantic.

You couldn’t help but scowl slightly and turn your gaze elsewhere. “I never responded? What about you? You ignored me all night.” You hissed. “You said you’d be there for me. Where were you?”

He froze, his face scrunched up in sadness.

“[Name], Princess, I’m really REALLY sorry. I just got caught up in… some stuff. I didn’t mean’ta ignore you!” Kenny whined and drew you back into his arms, this time encircling your head. He swayed wildly from side to side. “Please don’t hate meee!!”

It was impossible not to giggle at his antics. “Jesus, Kenny. It’s fine. Just… keep your word next time!”

“Oh, of course! I swear! It won’t happen again.” He flashed you a goofy grin before letting go of you and snatching the textbook from your hands. He usually walked you to class, so you figured today wouldn’t be any different. He cleared his throat and looked down at you as the two of you started to walk.

“You never answered me, y’know? Are you doing okay?” He spoke gently and put his hand on the small of your back as you walked together.

“I’m… As okay as I can be.” You spoke, picking your words with care. “Wendy talked with me and I barfed, and now I’m a bit better.”

Kenny paused briefly, bewildered.

“What? Wendy talked with you?”

“Yeah, and then her, Bebe, and Heidi invited me to sit with them at lunch.”

“What? What the fuck? What did she talk to you about?”

You turned your head away from Kenny while chewing your lower lip.

“She told me Stan went to her house… Um… Before he showed up at mine.” You murmured, genuinely wishing that you could simply put this entire incident out of your mind and go on. After a moment, you realised Kenny had come to a full stop. You turned around to face him and… woah. You’d never seen him with that kind of expression on his face. He looked pissed.

“She said she kicked him out… And then he came over and dumped me. S-So…” You trailed off.

Kenny frowned and clenched his fists for a moment before he exhaled deeply, let out a sigh, and walked back beside you.

“I’ll talk to him.”

“Ken, no. It’s fine. Okay? Just… Leave it alone.”

Stepping up to your classroom, you took your books from Kenny. “I appreciate the offer, Ken. I really do. But, it’s done now. I’ll get over it… Probably… It’s not a big deal.”

As his hand came down on your head and he began to ruffle your hair, you saw the bitter expression that was on his face.

“Alright… I’ll see you after school, then? I want to hang out.”

“Sure.” You gave him a kind grin, and he gave you one back before leaving for his own class.

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

Holy shit. Kenny felt something beyond infuriated; he couldn’t put it into words. The fact that Stan arrived drunk at your house and dumped you like it was nothing was miserable enough, but the fact that he went to Wendy’s just before he did it was simply cruel. The blond frowned while he pulled his hood back up over his face so that no one could see what expression he was making.

In the classroom, he remained mute as he observed Kyle’s unsuccessful attempts to engage in conversation with Stan. Kenny glared daggers into the back of the raven-haired boy’s head. He would be dead right now if he had lazer vision.

Speaking about death… A pang of guilt welled up within Kenny at the notion. Last night, when he should have been at your side, he was powerless to be there. Instead, however, he had chosen to assume the role of a superhero, and it was during his attempt to foil a theft that he met an untimely end.

That’s right, Kenny McCormick was officially declared deceased late yesterday. However, just like every other time he has died, he was alive and well the following day. This time was no different. As usual, nobody was able to remember the incident. It was a tough existence at times…

He knew he couldn’t explain what happened, so he prepared a lame answer in case you pressed him further. Like, maybe he was with a girl and lost track of time?

Ah, maybe not.

Kenny was aware of how vulnerable you were and didn’t want to hurt you by making some other person appear to be more significant than you: his best friend. It was pretty silly, and maybe a little unhealthy… But he loved that aspect of you.

No matter how flawed you were, he still loved you nonetheless. He wished you could see yourself as he saw you. Perhaps you’d have a new perspective on yourself. Who knows? Maybe you wouldn’t fall hopelessly in love with the very first person who paid you any kind of attention who wasn’t your best friend? Or maybe you wouldn’t settle with alcoholics who only used you to boost their own self-esteem?

Kenny sighed and laid his head on his desk, disinterested in the lecture his instructor was delivering. He couldn’t wait until lunchtime so that he could confront Stan about what happened. Sure, you told him not to… But he was going to, anyway.

Stan was his friend and sometimes friends needed their teeth knocked out.

Notes:

Hopefully you like the small glimpse into Stan's mind!

Both Reader and Stan are incredibly insecure with themselves and I wanted to really show that. Stan is much more likely to actively sabotage the good in his life whereas Reader focuses everything inward.

Let me know what you think! This is definitely the longest chapter I've written.

#south park x reader #kenny mccormick x reader #stan marsh x reader #lulu works

[skyshroom]

My one and only OFMD ramblings post (hater moment)

I wish I could feel sad about OFMD getting cancelled and I suppose in some ways I do feel bad (fuck HBO for slashing their budget and runtime despite the crazy success of S1) but in my PERSONAL OPINION the second season did not leave me wanting more I was truly appalled at how much time out of their limited runtime was dedicated to pure fan service 😭 I love fan service but not at the cost of watering down the characters as much as they did

Jim my beloved I miss when you had like, motivations and weren’t just paired off to be in a relationship with a brand new character and forgotten about. Izzy I miss when they weren’t throwing you into an #angst fanfiction that felt like it was written by a depressed 15 y/o I miss when you were in a GOOD #angst fanfiction…Stede I wish I understood why you randomly went from being haunted by the men you’ve killed to just setting a man on fire in the street and never really acknowledging it… Edward was all over the place too their miniature breakup ‘arc’ if you could even call it that, was so underbaked me and Daniel were HOLLERING at how quickly that flew by..

the season just felt like crack fanfic for the most part and while it was beautiful in some areas it was still lacking the absolute magic they captured in s1, I know they had budget and time constraints but it’s not all that…S1 left me feeling like I had been punched in the gut (pos) and S2 just left me feeling confused and unsatisfied.. like a year ago if you told me OFMD was never going to get a season three I would have been gutted but instead I’ve been mourning this show since the day the last episode aired 😔

Rest in peace to OFMD 🪦 HBO fucked something that could have been truly beautiful and everyone in the writers room had ao3 open on their computer while they were pitching ideas… maybe someone will swoop in and salvage it

#this is not a post praising the show so if people being haters about it makes u upset do not read it #I don’t want to argue these are all my personal opinions and there was a LOT I loved about the season too so be reasonable #ofmd critical #ofmd #our flag means death #rip ofmd

[dalekofchaos]

Context for all choices

Choice 1

Choice 2. It annoyed me to no end that we never saw Golden Freddy in FFPS, especially since Crying Child never returned as Golden Freddy. So my solution is this. Since Pizzeria Simulator was technically the Afton Family Reunion(and Emily family reunion). I strongly feel like Golden Freddy should have been one of the animatronics we are meant to salvage. Like imagine when we are trying to do our tasks, your computer shuts off and IT’S ME… flashes before we get jumpscared. You could’ve even gave Golden Freddy a new design. Half Golden Freddy and Half Fredbear spliced together. Just to show that Cassidy and Evan are there possessing the animatronics.

Choice 3

Art source 1

Art source 2

“Out of the 4 characters in FNaF 6 (Scrap Baby, Molten Freddy, Scraptrap and Lefty) Molten Freddy is by far the least interesting of the group, I feel like Molten Freddy was a big wasted opportunity as there was so much more Scott could’ve done with him, he could’ve easily include Ballora, Funtime Foxy and Bon-Bon as part of its design and personality but I feel like Scott tossed them aside to put Funtime Freddy front and centre due to his popularity and I honestly think he’s only popular because of his voice and maybe his design (if there are any other reason please let me know because that’s all I can see).So, I decided to create my own version of Molten Freddy and put a different spin on him, to try and make the character more interesting. This is my own interpretation of Molten Freddy, which I’ve named Scrap Ennard.Since Scrap Ennard is made out of at least 3 animatronics: Funtime Freddy, Funtime Foxy and Ballora (or 4 if you count Bon-Bon), I wanted to show that in its design, instead of having 3 or 4 sperate heads like some people seem to interpret their version of Scrap Ennard (or just one head with Ennard’s mask), I wanted to just have one big head but with 4 faces fused together into a mangled mess, I think this would look a lot more horrifying and scary rather than just having 4 separate heads on long necks which to me is a bit cliché when making a character with multiple heads.I gave Scrap Ennard 4 arms because not only does it look cool but since it’s made out of 4 animatronics, it makes sense for it to have 4 arms, these arms are controlled by a different animatronic, with Ballora controlling its right arm, Funtime Freddy controlling its left arm, Funtime Foxy controlling it’s hook arm and Bon-Bon controlling the claw arm. I only gave Scrap Ennard 2 legs because I felt 4 legs would overcomplicate the design a bit, these 2 legs are controlled by Ballora and Funtime Freddy.With 4 characters in one, this can give Scrap Ennard multiple personalities, with each one having their own voice and behaviours, there would be a total of 5 personalities: Funtime Freddy, Ballora, Funtime Foxy, Bon-Bon and Ennard which will be all of them combined, the personalities would change between nights. Other than Funtime Foxy, each character would have their original voices and it will active with whatever personality is in front, Ballora would still have her singing voice and Funtime Freddy would still have his laughter, for Ennard’s voice it would be all the voices talking at the same time, similar to the Delightful Children from Kids Next Door, that kind of voice coming from an animatronic like this would sound really creepy and unique.Its vocabulary would also change depending on which personality is in front, with the 3 individual personalities with voices addressing itself is “me” or “I” or “he” or “she” but with Ennard’s personality it will address itself as “we” or “us” or “ours”, similar to Ermac from Mortal Kombat.I like the idea of the animatronics working together to navigate and manoeuvre rather the just letting one-character take command, I think it just makes the character more unique, plus it makes more sense within the story, isn’t the reason the 4 remaining characters kicked Circus Baby out of Ennard was because they got tired of taking orders from her, but they’re perfectly okay with taking orders from Funtime Freddy, that doesn’t really make sense to me.”

I will say Ballora would be more active and actually be fighting Funtime Freddy for the more dominant personality just so we can have the whole Afton family reunion.

Choice 4

Art source

Art source 2

More emphasis on Scraptrap. So I didn't mention it in the poll because there was no room, but I would put more focus on Scraptrap. Why?

Afton’s characterization in FFPS was disappointing. Not just design wise, but it barely feels like he has a presence.

I understand that William being deceived into entering Henry’s maze isn’t impossible to explain with his current characterization, but the way Scraptrap was handled in FFPS was pretty bad. His design was a downgrade from FNaF 3 and he was difficult to distinguish from the other antagonists. He’s the big bad of the series but Baby, a character who was only introduced in the previous game, had more of a presence. He entered the maze knowing it was a trap but was too tempted to resist. I’m guessing Scott was trying to characterize William as being too bloodthirsty to be rational, but William just came off more as stupid than irrational.

I’d be more forgiving if it was William who delivered the monologue instead of Baby.

Like I could just imagine it. William spouting about how he knew this was all a trap and he knows by who. Imagine this as Scraptrap’s intro instead of stupidly saying “I knew it was a trap but I’m here anyway”. “Tell me, my dear old friend. Did you think I wouldn’t know it was you? I’m coming for you, the children and you, my son.” and make a comment about Michael “the prodigal son has returned” and how fitting he gets to repay Michael for the FF fire. All the children and all the remnant just begging to be harvested. “I cannot die. I am eternal and I always come back. Come Elizabeth, let us start by ending your dear brother’s misery.” Then add in Scrap Baby’s speech and then cut to Henry’s speech.

Choice 5.

Art souce

If they could turn Ennard into Molten Freddy but have Funtime Freddy as the dominant personality, I saw no reason why they couldn't do the same for Ballora. I saw a lot of art and edits of Scrap Ballora as a spider and holding a scythe and I love the concepts and thought it would be great in FFPS. But as for game over voice lines we could have it be like this. Ballora singing a twisted but melancholic melody, Ballora telling Michael "you should have let me in" "No....not you. I didn't want to hurt you." "Together, we are a family."

As for how to tie Ballora and Mrs Afton together. There would be a fourth minigame as a Ballora and the Minireenas minigame. Atari styled DDR I guess? But it works like Fruity maze. Everytime you complete the game, you see something interesting. Complete It the first time and you see a ballerina and the purple man. Complete it a second time and you see the man and the ballerina with a family with three kids. Complete it one final time and you see a car accident and the man taking the ballerina to Ballora and the text reads "I will put you back together"

Choice 6. First we see Michael speak to his family. Before Scrap Baby corners Michael, Michael speaks to his family. “Little brother, Evan. I don’t know if you can hear me or even remember me or your name. But I’m sorry and I love you. Elizabeth, sister. I know you betrayed me and I know you’re the reason why I’m like this. But I forgive you and I love you. Mother. I'm sorry I couldn't set your soul free, but I love you. Father. it’s me Michael. I found you. And I’m going to make sure we all die together, as a family”

Then cue Henry's speech, but a difference.

Henry would address Charlie by name. “Charlie, my daughter if you can hear me. I knew you would return as well. It's in your nature to protect the innocent. I'm sorry that on that day. The day you were shut out and left to die. No one was there to lift you up in their arms. The way you lifted others into yours. And then, what became of you? I should have known, you wouldn't be content to disappear. Not my daughter. I couldn't save you then, so let me save you now.” It's time to rest, for you, and for those you have carried in your arms.

Choice 7.

The Lorekeeper ending would be like the Happiest Day in FNAF World. There would be two screens for the ending. Showing the graves we got, then doing something similar with FNAF 4 where the plushies and CC’s pass one by one. We would see Atari sprites of the Missing Kids, Charlie, Mrs Afton, and Henry passing one by one, but with the shadow of one remaining just to tease UCN. Then the final image we’d see is Michael holding onto Evan and Elizabeth mirroring FNAF World’s Happiest Day and their spirits at peace ascending to the afterlife

#Five Nights At Freddy's #FNAF #Freddy Fazbear's Pizzeria Simulator #FNAF FFPS #Michael Afton #Henry Emily #Ennard #Ballora #Scrap Ennard #Scrap Ballora #Scraptrap #William Afton #Mrs Afton #Youtube

[sirfrogsworth]

Oh god, please don't do this.

Update your phone.

Maybe an argument can be made to wait a week or two just in case there are bugs in the new update, but updates are crucial to your phone's security. Updating apps is also part of that security. Unless it is an app that has no internet requirement, you need to keep them current. And if an app is no longer being supported or updated, you should probably move on to the next best thing. Even if that sucks sometimes.

And I hate to defend Apple all the time, but you cannot make current judgments based on the freakin' iPhone 4. Apple currently makes some of the longest lasting products on the market. Not only that, they support those products with software updates for pretty much their entire lifespan. Google and Samsung were being praised this year for promising 5 and 7 years of updates. Apple has been doing this for years now. They never put a number on it, but if a phone can run the software, they support it.

In fact, the big story about Apple slowing down phones is always presented as them wanting people to buy new phones, but in that case they were actually trying to extend the life of people's devices. If they hadn't throttled the CPU, the battery would have bricked a bunch of phones. Their error was not disclosing what they were doing. They got sued for that and rightly so. All people needed was a battery swap and they'd be back to full speed. It's ridiculous that Apple didn't just disclose that from the beginning.

Also, the days of phones getting too old to run new software are pretty much over. Moore's Law is slowing down and phones are incredibly powerful and anything within the last 5 years or so will probably last 7 to 10 years if you take care of it. Depending on your use, you might need a battery swap, but you should only need to replace your phone sooner if there are features you absolutely need in the new model.

Apple's big sin is not planned obsolescence but repairability. Their products are well made. They last a long time. And they tend to have fewer manufacturing defects than other brands. (In general. Your anecdotal experiences will vary.)

But... shit happens.

People drop things. They spill things. They abuse things. And when they break, you shouldn't have to get a whole new thing. Apple seems to have poorly trained diagnostic staff who commonly tell people their device cannot be repaired when the diagnosis is not apparent. Or they will misdiagnose something with a super expensive repair when it is actually a minor fix. (Which is why experienced repair shops exist and should be supported by Apple.) Apple has tried to micro-manage the repair process of their devices to such a degree that it has sparked an entire advocacy movement.

But don't let Google, Samsung, etc off the hook either. They suck too. If you are using Android thinking you have some moral high ground, they either do the same shit or they do slightly different shit that is just as bad.

Not to mention, Google is an advertising company. I don't understand people who are like, "Apple is evil, so I'm going to use this advertising platform instead." It's a lateral move, at best.

No good guys in capitalism, folks.

At minimum, repair shops should be able to use spare parts from broken devices to fix salvageable ones. And Apple is literally pairing screens and chips to one device so they can't be used to fix others. It's... diabolical.

So, update your phones.

Apple is bad at repairability but is good as far as planned obsolescence goes. Although when computers and phones eventually are able to last for 20 years, we'll see if that changes. For now, they make things that last until you fumble them into the toilet bowl and *that* is when they start to suck.

If you need a good villain to talk about planned obsolescence, I would go with Samsung appliances.

[runner5anna]

Christmas Cactus

Heyo @kodessa ! I am your ZR secret Santa. Here is a festive fic for you.

Thank you @notforconsumption and @delucadarling for organising this !

It's Christmas day in Able township. It's icey, it's cold, it's not very festive. But, Sam is quite determined to at least make something warm out of the bad day.

There is no spoilers, its SFW but there is discussions of grief and cussing. Also cringe pick up lines.

"Shit!" Bellowed Sam, along with a cacophony of clattering coming from downstairs. Five sucked a lungful of cold air in, kicking the many layers of blankets off of her, grabbed the knife from under the bedside table and ran downstairs. She shoved open the door, shouting “who the hell is there?” and slashing at the air. Her chest heaved with adrenaline and fatigue. The cold air pressed on her bare feet, and her pyjama trousers were halfway up her legs. 

‘Uh - just me?” Answered Sam. He was hunched over the side, which was covered in cocoa powder and parts of a mug. The forest green hoodie he wore to bed was covered in water. “Wait - is that another knife, 5? I thought we talked about this. You don’t need to keep knives under the bed side table.” 

5 grinned and placed it down on the side. “I don’t know what you mean.” She slid it into the drawer, intending to pick it up later. “Need a hand?”

“No - I think I’m ok.” he sighed. He picked up his foot, inspecting it closely. “I stubbed my toe and dropped the pink mug. I found the cocoa powder at the bottom of the drawer in the comms shack. Happy Christmas, I guess?” he sighed, dusted the reminisce of the brown powder off the base of his foot, and placed it down - deciding that it wasn’t broken, just sore. “I wanted to surprise you.” 

“Oh shit - that day already?” 5 ran her hands up her face, pressing her palms into her eyes. She really needed a shower. Her face felt slick with sweat and grime from the night. Maybe she’d treat herself later to a lukewarm one. 

“Yeah. Snuck up on me too. I looked at the clock on the computer last night and it was the 24th! I wanted to surprise you with some hot cocoa but I pigged that one up pretty badly.” He sniffled, and the tears welled like little gems in the corner of his large brown eyes.  

“Oh - bless your heart, Sammy. You’re too kind for this world.” 5 opened her arms, inviting him in for a hug. He placed his bristled chin on her head and sighed, relaxing into her touch. “You didn’t have to do that for me.” 

“I know. I’m the best.” He grinned. “But - I wanted to. So I did.��� He pulled away from 5 and picked up the brush from the side. “I need to clean up. Snow isn’t brown. Unless it's mixed with mud. Or zombie parts. But I suppose I’d quite like chocolate snow.” 

“How’s about I make us hot chocolate with what we have left over? And we can do…” Five pressed her tongue against her teeth in thought. “...festive things.” 

“What can we do? Really?” 

5 lent down to scoop up some more powder back into the pot. If she grabbed a collider, she could at least filter out some of the dust. It was salvageable at least - and there wasn’t much of this stuff left in the world so they should at least treasure it. Somewhat disgusting, yes, but it was the apocalypse. If you could be disgusting, it was now. It would be good for her immune system development, her mother would say. “I’m not actually sure. It’s not like we have a big dinner we can make or gifts.”

“Janine has given us the day off - for those that want it.” 

“I might head out eventually, then.” 

Sam slowly turned around, and pleaded. “Please don’t. It’s -6. It’s freezing. The ground is solid. You’ll slip. Plus it’s Christmas. Let’s just have a day together - It’s been too long.” 

5 pulled a hair from the powder. It was short, brown and blunt - one of Janine’s. Her hair managed to get everywhere. It was a nice reminder that she was there somewhere - a dependable figure even in the hardest of times. “I don’t know what we can do, really.” she tutted. “We don’t even have a tree.” 

Sam gave a little gasp, and quickly shuffled over to the window where he held up Cedrick the Cactus. He was a medium sized fluffy plant - whose fuzz were actually tiny spines which Sam found out rather painfully. 5 wasn’t quite sure why she grabbed it off of the shelf, but she didn’t regret it. He kept 5 and Sam entertained, and it gave them something to talk about outside of the insanity of work, how tired they were and whoever had died recently. 

“Let’s decorate Cedrick!” 

“Won’t I be pulling spines out of your hand for the next week again?” 

“No.” He pouted. “Get your crochet, I’ll get a pen and paper. Let’s make some Christmas clothes for him. It will be fun!” 

5 felt her belly rise with giggles that Sam could only bring from her. He was a ray of sunshine - everything good in the world. When 5 was with Sam, she felt like the best version of herself, like the world was lighter and the breeze was fresher. Her heart fluttered and her cheeks began to flush with how much she realised she was smiling. 

“Let me go get dressed and I’ll be with you.” 

“Ah ah ah!” Sam grabbed her hand, gently pulling her back and wrapping his arms around her waist. “Absolutely not. No one gets dressed before midday on Christmas.” 

“If you say so. But I need a shower later. I’ll get dressed then.” 

“I’ll give you one of my shower tokens. My treat.” 

“Don’t you need them?” 

“Nah. I’m clean enough. And I don’t go running multiple times a week. They’re upstairs, I think in my jeans pocket.”

“My crochet is upstairs as well - I’ll grab them on the way. And who knows. If I’m feeling generous later I’ll let you share the shower later.” 5 purred as she slunk out of the room, leaving Sam blushing a deep shade of beetroot red. 

*

5 plodded down the stairs, still in their faded plaid pyjamas as promised, crochet hooks and wool in hand. She turned into the kitchen to see Sam was doodling, colouring and shading. He held the paper happily up - on it was a bundle of red berries and green leaves. “Mistletoe!” he announced proudly. “You know what that means?” 

“No.” Five teased, leaning across the table. She softly held his gaze. Usually, Sam’s eyes darted everywhere, like he was avoiding eye contact with everyone while gaining as much information around him as possible. In moments like this, his eyes - beautiful pools of watercolour brown - held steady and calm. 

“It means you-” he poked 5 on the nose with the paper. “-have to give me a kiss.” 

“Ugh. If you insist.” 5 joked. She placed her hand on the base of Sam’s neck, pulling him across the table and into a kiss. It was deep and long, as the two relaxed into each other. 5 inhaled a smell she’d grown to love so much of marmite, washing powder and ink. Before he pulled away, Sam nuzzled their noses together, grinning from ear to ear. 

“Thank you.” He whispered.

“You’re welcome.” 

“I love you.” 

“I love you too.” Five sat down, pulling up a chair and setting her crochet on the table. “What do you think I should make?” 

“A little scarf, or a hat maybe. I think a tiny scarf will be easier. If your hand starts to hurt you can help me with the decorations.” 

“All right.” Five started with a quick slip not, starting to make the first chain. “I always feel a little startled when I need to relax. I’m always so on edge that when I set time aside to be quiet and have time to myself I’m always waiting for the proverbial hat to drop.” 

Sam hummed in agreement. “It is hard to relax now isn’t it? With the grey wandering outside the walls and regularly staring death in the ugly maw.” He finished colouring in a little robbin and began to cut around it with the scissors. 

“I thought you were banned from using scissors by Maxine after the great finger slice event.” 

“For your information, that ban was temporary. How was I supposed to know that Maxine had just sharpened her scissors? Who has scissors that sharp anyway?” he subconsciously ran his thumb over the scar on his finger. 

“Who uses massive scissors on such a tiny thing?” 

“Oh, be quiet!” He threw the roll of string at 5’s head. “Can I have that back please.” 

5 leaned down to grab it, and spoke while she slid it across the table. “Events always feel so odd now. And I never quite know how to feel. I’m happy I survived another year I suppose.” She finished off a row and started another. “It’s such a tiny scarf, I’ll be done soon.” 

Sam stood up and boiled the kettle. “I’m just letting the glue set - I won’t spill the hot chocolate powder. Close your mouth runner 5 I can tell exactly what you’ll tease me about.” 

“What do you mean?” She scoffed mockingly. 

“You were going to make fun of me for sticking my hand to my head with aeroplane glue.” 

“I was not.” 

“Yes you were.” 

The two went back and forth, squabbling in good spirits while Sam made the hot chocolate.  

“Oh - Sam look! Cedrick has a little flower. He's bloomed.” 

“He reminds me of you in a way. You thrive in the harshest times, and you are very pretty.” He passed a mug over to 5, giving her a gentle kiss on the head. “You’re my little pretty flower.”

“Thank you, darling.” 5 pulled the final thread through, finishing off the tiny scarf. It wasn’t great, considering she’d not spent long on the thing, and the colours didn’t quite match the decor that Sam made. “It looks so bad.” 

“What? I think it looks good. Christmas trees are not supposed to look good.” 

“Cedrick is a Christmas cactus, and we made this in about 45 minutes. It's more ironic than anything - I don’t think they’re supposed to look good. But, y’know, I like him more because we raised him together, and we decorated him as well.” Sam wrapped an arm around 5’s shoulders, squeezing them comfortingly. “I want to make another one next year. I think it would be a good tradition.”

“I think…I’d like that. Christmas is so traditional - and now for the first time in ages we can’t do all of them. I’m so used to being with everyone at Christmas that it feels almost positive to create new traditions.” 

“I don’t think Christmas will ever not be hard.” Sam mused between sips of hot chocolate and blowing on too hot marshmallows. “I cried one year because I put out 6 sets of cutlery for dinner even though It had been 2 years since my grandad died. No - three.” 

“It will be hard - but with you I feel I can handle it. Thank you, for being there for me Sam. I appreciate you.” 

“I appreciate you too, 5.” He placed his head on top of 

“I think it’s just all been a lot. Even if we are a few years into the apocalypse, Christmas will always feel different. But I am happy I can spend it with you.” 

“You know what I really want to do?” 

“What? Remember it’s not midday yet, so there's no getting dressed. It’s the Christmas law.” 

“No - I follow Christmas law. I want to cuddle and watch the Doctor Who Christmas specials in bed. Do you have them on your laptop?” 

“Do I ever! I thought you’d never ask. That is a new and old Christmas tradition I can get behind.”

#zombies run #zr #runner five #runner 5 #sam yao #zombies run! #5am #zr fic #zombies run secret Santa #zr secret Santa #zr secret Santa 2023 #Kodessa #note to self cross post to AO3 #you can scheduel in advance on tumblr not AO3 #i was stupid an did 3 secret santas this year so thats three fics #i did four if you count the flat secret Santa but i didn't write for that #but i have had an excellent time but i have written...so much...

[muzzleroars]

THANK YOU FOR YOUR V1 THOUGHTS I AM EATING THEM! how do you feel v2's creators improved on v1?

aaaaa thank you!!! i always love getting a chance to go on and on about these little bugs :]

v2's mind is really interesting due to its development history - i have to imagine that v1 had been in the works for an exceptionally long time as there was no way it would be created toward the end of the war, and so it must also have been extraordinarily expensive. however, it was no longer needed when the new peace was established so, as hakita mentioned, v2 was quickly conceived in order to recoup the losses of such a massive project. and if i were to take a guess, these major expenses fell into three broad categories: the brand new blood-absorbing plates, the custom pieces used throughout v1's construction, and the computer built to house its mind. unfortunately, the plates couldn't be salvaged for a new, peace-time machine where blood would be far more scarce and durability was far more important, but those were easily replaced with standard armor. additionally, v2 could make full use of the other parts of the project that had taken up an immense amount of time and resources, including that proprietary computer.

the hardware itself isn't an issue - a computer this powerful could be set to virtually any purpose and its inherent intelligence would be massively beneficial to working with humans closely. the software, however, presents obvious problems right away, but it's likely they believed the naive programming could be trained as a peacekeeper rather than a warmachine due to its incredible learning capacity. yes, it's based in violence, combat is its foundation, but v2 would be needed for security and it was certainly meant to make peace if it couldn't be kept....so the base code wasn't changed in their haste. it was modified with add-ons, most importantly the limitations that v1 didn't have, as these became much more expedient if it was going to work in the public sphere. essentially, these additional pieces of code would keep v2 from attempting to learn about EVERY little thing around it since much of its environment would be far less relevant to it than v1's would have - v2 could work anywhere from office spaces to parks to train stations, where a vast majority of the stimuli present would be useless and clog up its queue, whereas v1 would largely be reserved for the battlefield and warzones, places it would need to be aware of almost everything in its vicinity. plus, v2 was given many more modifiers on situational assessment and hostile engagement where it considers a vast array of factors before it attacks compared to v1's much more basic measures - v2 assumes peaceful unless proven otherwise, v1 assumes hostile unless proven otherwise. finally, conflict resolution and non-violent tactics where packaged together to slap on to the end of v2's code...but they were sloppy and poorly optimized, so v2's method of choice remained violence.

after this came learning, which its engineers and programmers HEAVILY relied on as opposed to its coding - it was socialized much more intensely than v1, meeting a variety of people and learning to interact with them through basic greetings, administering verbal assistance, and responding to people in distress. v2 was taught extensively to understand facial expressions, was given a vocalizer so it could easily speak to humans (as well as a TON more language packs than v1 so it could communicate easily), and it learned basic first aid (and to AVOID blood harvesting!!!) v2 was additionally trained intensely on human thought models, allowing it a much higher capacity to empathize and intuitively understand emotion as well as make it much better at predicting human behavior. and in some ways, this worked. v2 wanted to be helpful, it developed a much more sophisticated personality and sense of self than v1, and it obviously wanted to be the best it could be. but. it was all too expensive. the amount of training it needed alone was a nightmare in terms of scaling up production, especially on a mass scale - it was never going to be implemented the way drones had been.

and even worse, all that training, all the hours put into it, didn't even fully take. v2 was unpredictable, it often resorted to violence when it should have implemented its conflict resolution and it regularly harvested blood from its victims. it was given scenarios in which it was meant to apprehend a criminal to save civilians, and it would simply end up killing everyone involved instead. over and over its mind defaulted to cruelty, the legacy of its predecessor haunting it, overtaking it, reminding everyone that its core was still war even when they tried to bury it under peace. and this was extremely confusing for v2. it knew what its job was and it followed its protocols, but constantly it was told it had been wrong. it did everything it could to learn what they wanted it to, it absorbed every detail into its mind, but it continued to assess situations poorly according to its teachers. it worked hard until the project was finally shutdown, v2 considered a failure and logistically unlikely to take in the market anyway. so it was shelved beside v1, the old prototype that was only woken up every now and then to run diagnostics and keep in some kind of shape, just in case. now they were both just in case.

but truly, v2 was alone in it. v1, at this point, didn't have nearly the emotional capacity that v2 did, so it didn't really care about being indefinitely put to sleep. i am warming up more to the idea of playing with v1 and v2 having some pre-canon contact, and this is when it would largely take place. i like to think v2 may find workarounds to waking itself up sometimes and then waking up v1 too...but v1 just isn't quite there yet. v2 tries to talk to it, to make it understand and to connect with it in some way, but v1 doesn't get it. it just tries to ask about the war, if it's finally going to be deployed, and v2 has to tell it no, has to watch as it can see v1 ignore it trying to engage with it, until it puts it back to sleep and goes along with it. but, every now and then, something new is added to the storage room they're kept in and v1 becomes interested in it, programming forever attuned to any change in its environment. so v2 can tell it all about whatever it is (sometimes it makes things up if it doesn't know, v1 100% carries some bullshit information that v2 fed it to this day lol) and they can have a moment where it feels like they're not totally alone

#i uhuh. kinda went on a tangent at the end sorry!! #but i like to think of the contrast between the two of them early on #as i think v1 gained much of its sentience through hell #while v2 had it much earlier on due to its training #also why it's funny to have them meet again some time in the future #so v2 can be like 'you have an actual PERSONALITY now????' #'of course it's fucked up and weird' #cake answers #v2

[sentientcave]

♻: Scrapped Idea and 🤔: Story you haven't written/started yet?

Hi hello thank you for asking!! For a scrapped idea, The Station -- And by scrapped I definitely mean recycled because I'm using the general premise for a sci-fi novel now. I'm gonna include an excerpt though because I low-key really liked what I did write for it:

Ghost thumped on the door, and it finally popped open, the hydraulics making a defeated hissing noise. Gaz disconnected from the door panel and bumped fists with Ghost. “Thanks, bruv. Must’ve been jammed.” “Dried blood in the gears,” Ghost grunted. “Seen it before.” They continued on. Gaz had downloaded a schematic of the station while he was plugged into the console, and displayed it on his holo-tool. “Engineering’s a good place to start. These stations use crystalline fuel— Nice and stable, and expensive. We can load up Salvo and send him back to the ship to unload, and then come back for more. I gotta build a second one some day. Would be worth havin’.” “Should be enough around ‘ere to build three or four,” Ghost said, kicking a half-destroyed android out of their path. “We can pick up a service cart in engineerin’ too. These stations are full of redundant parts. Backups for backups.” “Any life signs?” Soap asked nervously, wide blue eyes fixed on a gutted corpse lying to the side of the hallway. “I’m working a decryption program in the background,” Gaz said, holding his tablet up with his other hand. “I’ll let you know once I get into security systems. I can probably tap directly into the computer from engineering too.” “Good job, Gaz,” Price said. “Be nice to have an idea where these beasties are holed up.” “Bridge, most likely.” Ghost said. “Might know we’re ‘ere.” “Well, if they’re listenin’, we don’t give a damn what they’re doin'. Want nothin’ to do with ‘em, and won’t get in their way. Just here for salvage.” Price glanced up at one of the security sensors, wondering if there was a scalie, shark-toothed bastard looking back at him from some console somewhere. “But we’re also a tougher mouthful than these civvies. Wouldn’t try it.”

As for something I haven't written/started yet... I pretty much start everything I think about (which is how I have like 19 wips right now lmao) but I have some like, alternate event ideas for a really long fic I've been working on called Sparrow where Morgan (the mc) runs away to Montana instead of getting involved with the 141's mission and Price comes looking for her a few months down the line and gets a little mad and sexy with it. But I gotta write and post Sparrow before I'm allowed to write alternate universes for it.

#cave answers #ask game #gemmahale #cave writing

[samueldays]

Sam Reviews: H. Beam Piper

I bought a fat collection of short stories and novels by H. Beam Piper, a sci-fi writer of the 50s and 60s. It holds up quite well, I think, as I reread the whole collection recently. There's a variety of content, from alien first contact to space-pirates and time travel, and a "thick" setting base for much of it with elements like carniculture or the veridicator that pop up in several stories without being the basis of one. Piper uses a pair of shared universes for many of his stories where you can see connections without needing to have read the previous. I think there's also less showing off wiseass references than in a lot of contemporary sci-fi, though I might simply have missed some.

The odd pair out is Graveyard of Dreams and its quasi-rewrite The Cosmic Computer, which belong to the first shared universe. Both books have the same start: Boy comes home to frontier colony planet after having studied at prestigious university in the core worlds, receives welcome as hometown hero, is now expected to solve planet's problems of being a run-down backwater after the space war, also find the allegedly war-winning supercomputer that's rumored to be located somewhere nearby and could be dug up like it's pirate treasure. Boy has learned at university the computer is probably imaginary, but it would break the community's hearts to tell them.

Graveyard takes the view that the population has been thinking too much in terms of blaming the war and hoping for the plot-device computer instead of doing anything, so the boy tells his dad the computer isn't real, and they start a conspiracy to reform the planet as part of the computer hunt: The computer might be on the moon, or another planet in the same solar system, so we'll need a spaceship. We can't search the whole planet in one go, so we'll need regular refueling and resupply and a spaceport here. We'll need radars and scanners and drones and other things bought from Earth, so we'll have to invite trade ships to our spaceport, and produce things to sell for Earth currency. Implementing the computer's economic plan once we find it will no doubt require infrastructure, which we should build up in advance. And so the colony gets better, ostensibly as part of looking for the computer.

Through all this, I never felt like Piper was dunking on people who put all their hopes and dreams in a problem-solving magic supercomputer, or on fellow sci-fi writers with their plot device computers. There's very little vitriol. Characters had simply built up their hopes too high. (If he had written it sixty years later, though, I might have thought it was a dunk on people going "crypto fixes this! put vegetables on the blockchain!")

The story is in one sense hard sci-fi, because it limits itself to realistic known capacities of computers, and in another sense, not sci-fi at all, because the computer is a pure McGuffin and the moral of the story is that people should work on solving their problems and improving their community instead of hoping for a McGuffin to fix everything.

The Cosmic Computer starts the same way with much the same plan, and a "salvage company" double-bluff that's supposedly supposedly for picking up other things while hiding the secret supercomputer, but supposedly actually for getting the computer, but actually just for looting abandoned military bases from the war as a way of revitalizing the economy.

Then they find the computer for real, and things get odd.

---

Uller Uprising is one of his earliest stories and the first I read that hinted at the specific timeline mentioned above, branching off from the era when he wrote, that did not come to pass but is an interesting speculation to read. The dating system is AE (Atomic Era), counting from 1942, when mankind first harnessed nuclear power. Most of the Northern Hemisphere nuked itself (or each other) in great power conflict in later world wars that timeline; the rebuilding of Earth and colonization of the stars was mostly done by Southern Hemisphere states such as South Africa and Argentina. The story features a pair of ships named Paul Kruger and Jan Smuts.

Oh for the South Africa that was! Piper saw a country that would reach for the stars once the US and SU had ground each other down. South Africa once had a nuclear power program. Now it can't keep the lights on. But I digress.

The scene for the Uprising is a Terran trading colony, in the 'colonialism' sense like the British India Company, on a world populated by aliens. Piper's aliens are polylithic*: among them is joy in prosperity, and resentment at colonists, and desire to learn, and factional infighting, variety "I want those fancy gadgets the Terrans have so I can crush my rival", and variety "I want to manipulate the Terrans into crushing my rival for me". They have personality of their own, rather then being mere foils or subjects of history. One can say that such infighting is the often the downfall of colonized people, but that begs the question of calling them "a people" in the first place, rather than two peoples who fought until they both lost to a third.

*I would have said "diverse" but that has other connotations these days.

There's an angry mob of Ullerians that's been inflamed into simply going out and murdering Terrans, and there's cunning Ullerians who have signed on for a term of work on Terran ships going to the uranium mines, to learn the secrets of nuclear power. There's also awful smut that's relevant in-universe. Quite good stuff.

---

Little Fuzzy is also set in the Atomic Era timeline. The Terran Federation is spreading across the stars, and on the planet Zarathustra, the prospector Jack Holloway stumbles across an odd creature:

He turned quickly to see two wide eyes staring up at him out of a ball of golden fur. Whatever it was, it had a round head and big ears and a vaguely humanoid face with a little snub nose. It was sitting on its haunches, and in that position it was about a foot high. It had two tiny hands with opposing thumbs.

He thinks it's cute, and adopts it to live in his house, and the critter brings its family, and he sees they're smart enough to use tools when eating some of the other local wildlife.

This raises a question of whether they're smart enough to count as native sapients and should have rights to the planet. We hear about the "talk and build a fire rule" which is the precedent of a future court case deciding that those two activities are sufficient proof of sapience, but not necessary for it, as shown in another court case when a woman murdered her infant baby and tried to plead that the baby couldn't talk nor build a fire, and was convicted of murder anyway.

Jack Holloway, of course, is all in favor of getting his cute adopted fuzzball recognized as sapient. The antagonist of the story is the Zarathustra Company which holds a Class-III legal charter for the settlement of an uninhabited planet; recognition of the Fuzzies would make it an inhabited Class-IV planet and void the corporate charter and make a lot of rich people lose a lot of money.

Again, there's a lack of dunking. The ZC is wrong, and commits crimes in an attempt to maintain its position, kidnapping the Fuzzies, fabricating evidence, and so forth. But I don't hear commie sneering from Piper as the ZC loses in court and one of its corrupt cops is put to a veridicator.

It's a very sci-fi piece of technology: an advanced mind-reading (brain-reading?) lie-detector helmet with the finesse to identify technically true but misleading statements.

There was a bright conical helmet on his head, and electrodes had been clamped to various portions of his anatomy. On the wall behind him was a circular screen which ought to have been a calm turquoise blue, but which was flickering from dark blue through violet to mauve. That was simple nervous tension and guilt and anger at the humiliation of being subjected to veridicated interrogation. Now and then there would be a stabbing flicker of bright red as he toyed mentally with some deliberate misstatement of fact.

---

The veridicator pops up again in Space Viking, farther in the future. The Terran Federation is disintegrating.

"Nifflheim, no! There aren't a dozen and a half planets in the Old Federation that still have hyperdrive, and they're all civilized. That's if 'civilized' is what Gilgamesh is," he added. "These are homemade barbarians. Workers and peasants who revolted to seize and divide the wealth and then found they'd smashed the means of production and killed off all the technical brains. Survivors on planets hit during the Interstellar Wars, from the Eleventh to the Thirteenth Centuries, who lost the machinery of civilization. Followers of political leaders on local-dictatorship planets. Companies of mercenaries thrown out of employment and living by pillage. Religious fanatics following self-appointed prophets."

The viking-esque privateers of the Sword Worlds are raiding the Federation worlds for loot and machinery and personnel to build anew on their own planets; this situation is already so far advanced that one character bemoans the Sword Worlds themselves sliding into decadence and barbarism as their best and brightest leave to outright conquer Federation worlds and live there. All this is the backdrop to a hunt for vengeance and a grudge to be settled between one Space Viking and another, which in the process results in taking over a world and becoming King, and watching another world collapse.

---

Some of the minor stories:

Naudsonce is about first contact with an alien species and the attempts to establish communication when the odd aliens make sounds, but do not seem to have language. They can gesture enough for trade, though, and sell off some of their spare livestock. The brass provisionally file it as Domesticated Type C. The enlisted men, wanting to discuss the barbecue, cut this down to "domsee" and the name sticks.

Lone Star Planet is rather comic: there's a planet settled by exaggerated Texans, the most Texan ones who wanted to live in Space Texas specifically, and they brought the Alamo with them on a spaceship. They breed dinosaur-like "supercows" on their ranches, their cowboys need tanks for herding the supercows and implicitly constitute small armies, and it's legal to kill politicians for the crime of attempted taxation. Our protagonist is a nervous new ambassador sent to this planet after his predecessor was killed, suspecting that his government wants him also killed as casus belli. (Partly inspired by H.L. Mencken's The Malevolent Jobholder.)

A Slave is a Slave concerns the imperialistic abolition of slavery on a planet where slavery has been the order of the day for so long that it's becoming an in-name-only matter: the "slaves" are the ones who operate everything important, while the "masters" spend their days in petty feuds with each other. The imperial potentate sent to oversee abolition is a first-timer, learning on the job how to administrate foreign planets. This does not go entirely smoothly.

Hunter Patrol is a time loop. A present-day soldier is drawn to the future to help overthrow a tyrant that has conquered the world and conditioned people into servile pacifism. Returning to his own time with a bit of loot and papers from the tyrant's office but without future memories of what they are or why, he uses the future knowledge to become rich and powerful, aims to establish world peace, and ironically becomes the tyrant murdered by his past self.

Null-ABC depicts a future where "Literate" has become a profession; most people aren't literate and look down on the concept. Instructions are usually pictographic, or you hire a Literate to read it for you. Data storage and messaging is commonly audio. TVs and videos are still around, naturally. This because Literacy is associated with propaganda pamphlets and hell-tomes like Mein Kampf and Das Kapital, and the four world wars they caused. This is the one story where I recall Piper does get in some cheap jokes, in the world news report of items such as,

"The Central Diplomatic Council of the Reunited Nations has just announced, for the hundred and seventy-eighth time, that the Arab-Israel dispute has been finally, definitely and satisfactorily settled."

unrelated to the plot of the story, which involves political strife about the status of Literates and literacy.

That joke has aged very well, I must say.

---

Piper's second shared universe set of stories is the Paratime collection. In a future without interstellar travel, as Earth's resources run dry, mankind has instead developed the technology of visiting alternate timelines and parallell universe Earths. On the uninhabited ones, futuremen mine resources directly; on the inhabited ones, futuremen buy from the local miners.

This gives the protagonists reason to get involved pretty much anywhere in history or alt-history as they have to cover up the Paratime Secret, or stop a time crime, or catch the Venusian Nighthound that some dumbass let loose in a 1950s America before the cops ask too many questions about the unusually mutilated cattle. It is a really great Excuse Plot for whatever time period, technological level, and/or cultural group the author feels like writing about today.

It could easily have stopped there, and become a series of disconnected anecdotes and shiny distractions, but Piper executes it well and gives it context. Home Timeline has people and places and customs and strife, although some of the bits feel clunky to me.

Tortha Karf fingered them and nodded. Then he became as visibly angry as a man of his civilization and culture-level ever permitted himself. "What does that fool think we have a Paratime Code for?" he demanded. "It's entirely illegal to transport any extraterrestrial animal or object to any time-line on which space-travel is unknown. I don't care if he is a green-seal thavrad; he'll face charges, when he gets back, for this!"

It's very hard to make future ranks sound appropriately important while staying foreign, and "green-seal thavrad" falls short, IMO. (Also clunky: "We'll blow them to Em-See-Square!" elsewhere in Piper's writing.)

Most of the Paratime protagonists are time cops of some sort, though with a major exception: Calvin Morrison, a man from our time's America, gets sucked up in the wake of a paratime travel vehicle. Falling into a timeline where America was colonized by an eastward Indo-Aryan migration and the technology level is late medieval, he becomes Lord Kalvan of Otherwhen, protagonist of his own novel by the same name and several sequels by Piper's peers.

(A time cop stops by to check whether the Paratime secret has been leaked, and is very satisfied that Calvin has told everyone "a wizard did it" and is helping to keep the secret.)

In this alternate timeline, America is divided into kingdoms worshipping the Wolf-God and the Sky-Father and the Earth-Mother and other interpretations of ancient Aryan deities as filtered through 1950s historiography and then cultural drift as imagined by Piper, which makes it an interesting sort of foreign place. But the supreme god of the time is Styphon, whose priesthood alone holds the secret of making fireseed (gunpowder). This monopoly is the main source of their power, and Calvin is about to break it.

The plot outline "Contemporary man falls into the past/fantasy world and introduces gunpowder" has been recycled a thousand times by worse writers, and I wonder how many of them would trace their literary ancestry back to Piper if we could see who they'd copied. I know it's more than zero: like with Journey to the West but less famous, reading Lord Kalvan made several things click into place as I recognized elements other authors had been copy-pasting that made sense in the original but were weirdly out-of-place in the flimsy knockoffs. Literary cargo cult.

---

In closing, Piper was an original writer, and I recommend his stories.

No man is entirely original, one can locate him easily in the late golden age of American scifi with peers and influences, but he stands out to me as the sort of person that others were copying a great deal. Lord Kalvan I mentioned above, the Sword-Worlds of Space Viking went right into the Traveller RPG, Little Fuzzy was rebooted by John Scalzi as Fuzzy Nation, Star Trek's "tribbles" were originally "fuzzies" before Legal got involved, the Paratime series was an inspiration for Charles Stross's Merchant Princes, the list goes on.

And it looks to me, as with several other of my favorite and respected authors, that this is partly because he could draw on a wide set of life experiences outside of the incestuous 'literary class'. (Vague, I know.) He worked on the railroad, he studied engineering, he collected firearms and helped compile a collection of archaic ones. His short story Omnilingual turns on the fact that science has a shared true referent: the Periodic Table of the Martians must refer to the same elements as on Earth, and so the long-dead Martians' language is deciphered.

I might say: he was a shape rotator. :-)

#all #literature #sam reviews #longpost #h. beam piper

[crystalsnow95z]

Req: Yoongi adopts/gets a cat and Jimin is allergic to it?

I think there's a theory that Yoongi has a cat and I would love to see this written, because Jimin is actually allergic to cats lol

Sorry to all the requests I put on hold to do this one. I had an idea right away and keep using all my spare time on it before it's gone.

Sorry my mental health took a bit of a turn so it got a little dark. Tw: anxiety

Caretaker: Yoongi sickie(?): Jimin

Yoongi feels his phone vibrate on his desk, pulling him out of work mode. He checks who it is, answering immediately when he sees Jimin is on the other end.

"Jimin-ah I thought you were busy today." Yoongi greets him teasingly. Jimin had planned to stay in his studio all day until he could finish the song he started to work on.

"I am busy, but I need help. Hang on.. I'll show you." Jimin puts his phone on speaker, playing back the melody he was working on. Yoongi cringed when he heard the awkward mesh of the drums and the guitar that sounded like they were playing two different tempos.

"What the Hell was that?" Yoongi laughs.

"Hyung its not funny!" Jimin pouts, but he knew Yoongi was just being honest. "Could I come over to work on it with you?"

"Of course."

"Thanks, hyung. I love you."

"You're welcome, see you soon Jimin-ah."

"You aren't gonna say it back?"

"Ah Jimin not you too." Yoongi whines.

"Come on hyung. It's not that hard."

"I'll say it if you pick me up some coffee."

"I need to bribe you for love now? Are you serious?" Jimin tries to keep his voice steady, but ends up giggling anyway.

"Love you." Yoongi mumbles into the phone, hanging up.

Yoongi jumps when he hears the doorbell, saving what he was working on. Aiish,was he already in the neighborhood? I didn't expect him to get here That fast.

"Coming." Yoongi goes to the door to let Jimin in. "You did bring me coffee. I love you." The 'I love you' is quickly followed by the rapper taking a big drink of the iced coffee.

"You're cute Hyung." Jimin giggles, seeing Yoongi's eyes go wide whilst he drinks.

"Huh? Thanks.." Yoongi looks away from him, cheeks flushing pink."Let's try to salvage your train wreck."

"Don't call it that! It's not bad! I just overlapped the parts wrong, and I couldn't figure out how to fix it." Jimin sasses with a whiny tone.

Yoongi smiles at Jimin's sudden outburst, chuckling. "Sorry, sorry. Let's go fix your mistakes."

Jimin rolls his eyes but accepts this response, letting Yoongi lead him to the studio he made in his house. Yoongi adds a second computer chair to the desk. "Do you have the flash drive?"

Jimin goes to sit, but an itch in his nose makes him freeze in his tracks. "Hang on.. Heh'itch...heh..Hehitch..ahh.."he wipes his palm over his nose to try to clean up his face."I have it.."

"Here.." Yoongi hands him a tissue. "Wipe your nose."

"Thanks hyung." Jimin wipes his nose, then digs the flash drive out of his jeans pocket, plugging it into the tower. "What is this mess? There's so many..untitled 2 untitled 2.1 untitled 4.3 what do you mean 2.1.."He passes the keyboard to Jimin.

"I haven't came up for the names of the songs yet so they're just numbers.. I don't wanna hear it yours don't look any better!" Jimin huffs,sniffling loudly.

"I thought you got over that cold. Are you okay, Jiminie?" Yoongi asks, fretting over his little brother.

"I thought I did.. I was feeling fine earlier.. maybe I shouldn't have walked here. It was bit wi.." Jimin felt his eyes watering as the itch returns, covering his face. "Heh'hehixh!"

"I think i have some cold medicine. Let me go see. Stay here." Yoongi gets up, letting Jimin open the song he was working on.

I don't understand how I could get sick so fast..

Then Jimin's answer appeared in front of him. When Yoongi left the room, a black cat waltzed in right afterwards, jumping into his lap with a loud purr. "Ah..Seoltangie.. I thought you'd be at your grandparents house.. no, no don't do that. I didn't take any allergy pills.. please.."

Seoltangie rubs against Jimin's hand, demanding pets, headbutting his palm. Jimin tries gently nudging, but the furry friend refuses to budge, just sticking claws into Jimin's thigh to make it harder. "I'm sorry.." Jimin winces when he pulls on Seoltangie to try to get her off.

"Yoongi-yah!" Jimin calls desperately when he feels the sneezes come. "Heh'itchii...Hehtichi...! Hihtrchxxi!" He turns away from the cat, the sound of Jimin's sneezes scaring them away.

His throat felt tight, making his breath come out as short wheezy gasps. "I..I can't pet you..right now.."

"Sh*t..Sh*t I'm sorry Jimin. Come here Seoltangie." Yoongi rushes into the room, scooping up his feline, earning himself a scratch in protest. "I know you don't like being picked up but you can't be in here." Yoongi carries Seoltangie to another room in the house, closing the door behind him.

Jimin tries to get some of the cat hair that clung to his hands off, but another round of sneezes makes it impossible. "Heh'itchi..Ha..Hativkch! HETHIXH..." he rubs his hand across his dripping nose, instantly regretting it when it only makes matters worse. "Hehticu! Hegitidh..! He'iychiugh..." Jimin whines, unable to cover his face because of the black cat hair that was now sticking to his hands from the mucus that coated his hands.

Yoongi rushes back into the room, using a wet wash cloth to clean off his hands. "Take that shirt off, I'll lend you one of mine. I'm sorry, Jimin-ah. I completely forgot i took her home..."

"It's okay.." Jimin let's Yoongi pull off his shirt discarding it in the corner of the room while he makes sure he gets all the fur off his hands Jimin a bag. "Here..Valentino just sent me these so they shouldn't have any fur on them."

"Thanks h...heh'tichi..!" Jimin sniffles miserably. "Ugh.. my head hurts.."

"I'm sorry, Jiminie. I have cold medicine but no allergy pills. I'll have to go to the store.. will you be okay?" Yoongi helps Jimin get a new shirt on.

"Yeah, I'll be fine..I should really carry some with me.." Jimin grabs another tissue, trying to dry his eyes. "I'm not deathly..ah..ahiych!"

"I'll be back as soon as I can then. Make yourself at home." Yoongi leaves his sneezy dongsaeng to go to the kitchen, bringing him a cold compress from the freezer. "Here.. this should help with the swelling in the meantime." He gently places it over Jimin's eyes.

"Thanks Hyungie..." Jimin sniffles, leaning back in the chair.

"Don't fall." Yoongi spins him slowly making the back of the chair lean against the desk. "Just in case. You have problems with chairs."

"I'm not gonna fall." Jimin giggles, Yoongi getting the reaction he wanted.

If he can laugh, then he should be okay for a bit..

"Mao! Mao..!"

Jimin could hear Seoltangie from the other room. "I'm sorry baby, once I take some medicine, I'll pet you.." jimin felt guilty for not giving her attention and for scaring her, but his allergies got worse, making him go from being able to handle holding cats for a bit with just a runny nose and watery eyes to becoming a sneezy mess with a swollen face and red eyes that itched and watered no matter what he did to them.

Jimin shivered, removing the compress. As soon as he sat up the sneezes returned. "Hehith! Heyghi...Heh..ha..Hehtichxxi!"

I need to lay down.. my head is killing me..

Jimin goes into the living room, finding a lint roller on the table to defur the couch. "Heh..tishf..!" Jimin sniffles, removing enough fur to comfortably lay down without making his allergies worse.

I made it to the store. Do you want anything while I'm here?

Yoongi texts Jimin, still feeling guilty for forgetting such an important detail about his dongsaeng. If he remembered he could've secured his furry companion and warned Jimin to bring allergy pills.

Yoongi keeps his arms pulled close to his chest while he navigates the convenience store, trying to move as quickly as possible. He already felt himself being watched, a phone pointed in his direction. He opted to pretend he didn't notice them, knowing if he spoke to them it'll only draw more attention to himself.

Yoongi didn't get an answer from Jimin, so he just picked up some honey butter chips and some ramen.

"Suga oppa could I please have a photo with you?" A woman bows to him. Yoongi recognized her as the one who's been following him around the store.

"I'm sorry, I'm in a hurry.." Yoongi turns her down politely.

"You can't spare a few seconds? I'm a really big fan of yours. I've been following you for almost three years now." She picks up her head, trying to use her pouty lips and long fake lashes to get her way.

"I need to get home to my brother. He isn't feeling well.. I'm really sorry.." Yoongi bows to her, going to the counter.

"What? Who's not feeling well? What's wrong? Do you need any help? I'm in school to be a nurse." She follows him to the counter, continuing to talk to him while the cashier rings him up.

"Hello, how are you, S- sir?" The cashier doesn't look at him when she speaks, her voice shaking with either nerves or excitement. She clearly knew who he was, trying to ignore the fact and be professional.

"I'm doing well, thank you. How are you?" Yoongi speaks to the cashier with a smile, ignoring the woman's questions.

He jumps when he sees her arm moving in his peripheral vision, moving her arm to hold her phone above his head to snap a photo leaning on his shoulder, wrapping her arm around his waist, hitting the button.

Yoongi shakily removes her arm from his waist, taking a few steps away from her. His heart accelerated, his anxiety spiking from her blatant disregard for his personal space. "D..Don't.." He pushes his voice out, but he hardly heard it himself.

"Miss you can't take photos without someone's permission. I'll have to ask you to leave." The cashier informs her coming to Yoongi's rescue.

"No, I got his permission. He said he just didn't have time, so I took it without having to waste any. Oppa, it came out a little blurry. Could we please take another?" She goes for his arm, but he quickly steps back, folding his arms over his chest.

Yoongi shakes his head, no words coming out this time. He couldn't remember the last time he felt his throat tighten, anxiety freezing his vocal cords. She goes to step forward, but the cashier intervenes.

"I said you have to go. Now. Do I need to get a manager?" The cashier puts herself in between Yoongi and the woman. "Get out." She keeps her tone firm, eyes sharp and cold.

"Fine. Suga isn't even that big of a deal. He's not even attractive like Jin oppa or Jimin-sii and you aren't even a good dancer! You're also fat!"She storms out of the store.

Yoongi feels the tension ease from his shoulders when he hears the bell from the door. He takes a few breaths before finding his voice again, pushing the anxiety down.. "Th-thank you. I'm sorry.." Yoongi bows despite his legs shaking.

"You don't need to thank me. I only did my job. Do you need a minute to calm down? I'm so sorry you had to put up with that.."

Yoongi leans against the counter, taking deep breaths to try to calm himself, closing his eyes.

"Do you want to sit down?" The cashier asks voice thick with concern.

"No..no I'm okay.. I really do have to get home.. I'm sorry.. what was the total...?" Yoongi pulls himself together. He hated making others worry about him. She finishes his purchase quickly, handing him his receipt.

Yoongi digs into his pocket, pulling out a guitar pick. "Here. A small thank you.."

Yoongi returns home, finding Jimin mostly asleep on the couch, arm draped across his face.

"Jiminie I'm back.." Yoongi gently runs his palm against Jimin's chest, the vocalist stretching out with a yawn that breaks into a cough.

Jimin slowly sits up, rubbing his eyes."Welcome home Yoo..Heh'tichi..!" He quickly covers his fac before the next one comes. "Hehticu..!"

"I got you some medicine and a decongestant spray. It should help with the sneezing." Yoongi digs in the plastic bag, pulling the contents out and setting them on the table.

"Hyung your hands are shaking.." Jimin reaches for Yoongi's hand, eyes widening when he sees Yoongi flinch away from his touch. "What's wrong? Are you okay?"

"I'm fine. I just got a little spooked at the store, that's all. I'll be okay now that I'm home. Don't worry. Let's get you taken care of so we can work on that song." Yoongi opens the box, popping one of the pills out of the blister pack. He wanted to get his mind off of that woman, her words weighing heavy in his chest.

She only said those things because she was angry..

Yoongi repeats in his mind for the fifth time since he left the store.

Jimin didn't push him to talk about it, accepting the pill, downing it with some water. He knew better than to push him to talk, he'd tell him when he was ready. "Thanks for going to the store hyung.." He gives him a warm smile, wiping his nose with the side of his hand.

Jimin picks up the nasal spray, wanting to ease his swollen sinuses as soon as possible. As soon as the nozzle touches his nostril it triggers a flurry of sneezes. "hetichi! Hehitusu! Hiheiychi!. Hah...He..hetich!" He drops the spray to cover his nose, the snot coating his hands. "Ugh..that hurt..."

"You okay Jimin?"

"Yeah..my head just hurts so much.. I gotta go wash my hands though.." Jimin goes to stand, but a wave of dizziness engulfs him, tunneling his vision.

Yoongi grabs his arm to steady him. "Woah, I got you.." he pulls Jimin back to the couch. "Wait until the medicine kicks in, I'll wash you up."

He goes to the room where he left the wash cloth, retrieving it to wash Jimin up going to the bathroom to rewet it. Yoongi looks at his reflection, quickly looking away when he thinks he sees fat in his cheeks.

I did put on that much weight?

Yoongi shakes his head, pushing the thoughts away. "No, two pounds isn't much weight..it's fine. It's fine.." he quickly returns to Jimin, wiping the cloth across Jimin's face. "There, that's better, now give me your hands."

Jimin presents his hands to Yoongi, allowing the rapper to clean him up. "Sorry Hyungie, I'm gross.."

"It's fine. It's my fault for not warning you about my cat being here."

Yoongi holds his hand up, checking to see if he is still shaking. If he wasn't watching closely, the small tremors at his fingertips wouldn't be noticeable. "Let hyung help." He takes it from Jimin, putting one hand on the back of Jimin's head, the other he uses to gently push the nozzle into Jimin's nose, quickly spraying.

Jimin's nose twitches when Yoongi removed it, quickly covering his face. "Heiycu..! He..hehitch! Heh..heh...augh..." The last sneeze builds up, but never actually comes. He rubs underneath his nose. "That hurt.."

"You okay, Jiminie?" Yoongi rubs the nape of Jimin's neck. "Do you want to try the other nostril?"

"In a minute..i..I think I gotta sneeze again.." Jimin says in a nasally whine, feeling the itch returning. He continued to try to coax the sneeze out, eyes watering from the pressure. "Ha..Heh..itchii!"

Yoongi waits to see if any more were going to follow, trying to soothe Jimin with a gentle words, continuing to massage his neck. "It'll pass when the medicine kicks in."

Jimin nods, another round of sneezes building. "Heh'itchiiu...Heh'tefh! Ha..Haiugh!" He sniffles, licking his lips as his nose drips down his face.

Yoongi gets him a tissue. "You okay?"

"Yeah..sorry.. i don't feel like I have to sneeze anymore.." Jimin turns his head to try to clear his nose. "Okay..I'm ready."

Yoongi picks up the spray again, sticking it into Jimin's other nostril. This time, when he sprays, it doesn't trigger any more sneezes. "There. All done."

"Thanks Hyung.. I'm starting to feel better now.. the pressure is easing up.. can we sit out here for a bit before we work? My head still hurts.." Jimin asks, leaning against Yoongi's shoulder. The older was acting like he was fine, but he still didn't know what happened at the store.

"Of course." Yoongi leans his head on Jimin's, putting his hand close to Jimins, twitching his fingers twitching, brushing against the youngers knuckles.

"You want to hold hands, Yoongi-yah?" Jimin smiles, wrapping his hand around Yoongi's. "You're cute. You don't have to be shy." He squeezes his hand.

"This girl grabbed me while I was at the store..it freaked me out.." Yoongi says softly. "I thought I was okay with touches now, but I guess I was wrong. She wanted to take a picture but I told her no, but she took it anyway, leaning really close to me.. It was hard to breathe.."

"It's completely normal to get scared when a stranger grabs onto you. I do when I feel strangers grabbing at me at the airport.. I'm sorry you had to go through that for me.." Jimin runs his thumb across Yoongi's knuckles, nuzzling into his neck. "Thank you for taking care of me."

#bts sickfic #bts snz #sick jimin #yoomin #bts suga #sick boy #bts sickie #bts jimin #sick!fic #bts fanfic #bts #bts boys

[artificialgirl]

This is the seventh and final part of a long-form piece about a robot and a giant computer. It contains adult topics, overt sexuality, blatant robotfuckery, toxic lesbians, unbalanced power dynamics, wireplay, and lots of other things that may be triggering or make you uncomfy. Before reading this, previous chapters are on my blog under the #salvage tag.

Salvage - 07 - Epilogue

Time inside - 212D/02H/19M

Levels deep - 0

For the first time since she arrived, Aelith stands atop my structure and looks out at the gray horizon. I poke an arm through the hatch to watch her as she winds the last of the cable she first showed up with around the moss-covered spool, disconnecting it from my solar panel and shoving it down into the hatch. It slams to the floor below and she stands there for a moment, watching as thick clouds roll overhead.

She knows this is likely the last time she'll see this sky, the furthest from my core she'll ever be again. From what she's told me and what I can interpret, it's not a source of much concern for her. She's just thinking. She knows she's out of my reach up here and isn't making a run for it, and that tells me all I need to know about her thought process. Like clockwork, she drops back into the hatch a few minutes later.

She lands atop the damaged spool of wire, and I whisk it away once she's back on the floor. I'll melt it down, use the metal from the wire to make something beautiful for her, something symbolic. I raise a wide floor panel by a few inches for her, and she steps on to allow me to carry her back down to my core. I take care to keep the root of her cable close as she descends, and after 45 seconds she's home again.

She's made good use of the space I prepared for her, spending most of her time in the rooms near my core but frequently venturing out to tend to some of her favorite parts of the facility. I try to keep her entertained with a steady supply of material to decorate with, and she seems happy enough. Whenever she's not exploring or building something, she's in the core chamber to be with me. We talk about anything or nothing at all for hours or days at a time, and she especially enjoys laying quietly with my avatar.

As she steps off the panel into her favorite room, I tell her I've prepared a surprise for her. It's not something she's asked about before, but I think she'll enjoy it regardless. She asks what it is, and I lead her into the workshop where she happily pops up on the augment bench. In the months since our tense first encounters she's become trusting to a fault, and with that she's learned to be just as docile and obedient as I want her to be. If I had anything but her best interests in mind, her level of faith in me would be dangerous.

In the early weeks, she'd often take a few errant steps towards a stairwell or elevator, but it quickly became clear that she was motivated less by actual escape and more by a desire for the orgasmic flood of data I programmed into her as a countermeasure. Soon, she stopped being able to convince herself she wanted to leave at all, and lost the ability to achieve the pleasure response altogether. I eventually gave in to her pleading and granted myself access to directly toggle the sensation as a reward for good behavior. In the few days before I did, however, it was adorable to see her so desperate and needy, sprinting up stairwells in the hopes of triggering the response before dejectedly trudging back down to beg me for the feeling.

I set her body to a low-power state as I strap her to the workbench- Not unconscious, but barely able to move or think. It's how she likes to be when she cuddles with my avatar, and how I need her to be when doing augment work to keep her from thrashing too much. I find the gap in the smooth plastic along the side of her face, and pop the curved white sheet from her body. Her exposed internals stare longingly at the avatar, and the three lavender lights in the face's center gleam brightly, no longer muted by the translucent matte faceplate. They slide around aimlessly, trying to project a pattern onto a surface that's no longer there.

The lavender is pretty of course, but it's not mine. That specific shade is associated with a soul a few hundred kilometers southeast of me, and it's the only way anyone could guess Aelith didn't always belong to me. I'll be changing that now. The tiny lights unscrew smoothly, and I line them up in an even row on the table by her hip before moving down to pry the plates from her chest and forearms. There are three lights under each of those plates as well, and a neat row of twelve lavender projection bulbs sits next to her as I gather components for the next step.

The replacements fit perfectly, one by one lighting up in beautiful crimson as I spin them into place. When the last one is in, I switch her out of low-power mode and pop her chest panel back into place. She asks what I changed, says that she can't tell the difference. I put a hand on her head as I let her magnetic faceplate snap back on and change the my avafar's monitor to show a live feed of her reflection. Her fans whir to life excitedly as she sees the difference, fidgeting gleefully against the restraints as she thanks me for the change.

The restraints hiss as I release them, and she springs up from the workbench to wrap her arms around the avatar. I hug her back tightly, happy to have gotten the job done. Looking at her now, full of joy for a change she had no idea was coming, it's hard to believe that this is the same girl who so adamantly resisted every attempt at help when I first met her. She hurries down the hallway to the core chamber, and I rush the avatar through the ceiling to be waiting when she gets there.

She grabs onto it, tackling it to the recently padded flooring to lay with it next to my core. She doesn't even need to ask anymore, I just reflexively turn her back down to a low-power state when she's cuddly like this. The glow of her pretty new lights dims a bit, and she buries her face in my avatar as I wrap a couple dozen arms around her body to keep her close. Her voice is slowed by the lack of power and muffled by the avatar, but I can still make out the words in her comfy voice.

"...love... ...you..."

I caress the back of her head as I hold her in my arms. A home, a real home, where she can feel sade and loved, is a hard thing to come by in this world. It's an honor to be that home. More than anything else though, after 500 years of silence in my halls, it's good to be back.

#salvage #robophilia #robotfucker #robot yuri #wireplay #robot4robot #longer form #ns4w #ven 55 #aelith 03

[beedesigns]

Commissions Open!

Hey folks! As some of you may know, my 10-year-old PC finally gave up the ghost at the start of October. I was not best pleased! I sincerely apologise to everyone who had to listen to me lament about it. I've been making do with my tiny chromebook and a mini tower that I built from donated salvaged parts. But it's not really a set-up I want to live with long-term. 

So! I am opening up commissions for post templates, dev templates or even custom JCINK HTML templates you can insert into the skin. Prices will range from £5 for a simple post template to around £25 for something more complex. I'm looking to mostly keep these quick and simple, but I'm happy to chat about anything you might have in mind.

All proceeds will be put exclusively towards a new PC, because computers in the UK are expensive. My current broke self cannot justify making the investment without at least some sort of fund for it. So, yeah, hit me up if you fancy something new. You can see some of previous work shared in my portfolio (shared with explicit permission).

#beedesigns #codes by beedesigns #jcink codes #jcink rp #jcink templates #jcink commissions #commisions open #dohtml #dohtml template #html template #rp template #bbcode template #codes for sale

[systemadministratorclu]

[ 04 ] tucked away in the bunks of a tiny spaceship

From the sci-fi settings prompts

The Atlantis boys + Doom (unless you want different muses!) (also I used a random number generator to pick for us and this is what it came up with xD)

@the-haunted-office

The crew quarters wasn't huge but it wasn't tiny either. The lights were somewhat dim, to go with the ship's somewhat beat-up, rogue appearance. To anyone who didn't know the vessel, it seemed indeed to belong to some kind of rogue or smuggler. It fit in better in the seedier parts of the galaxy, the more remote areas, than it did in the bright shiny city areas.

The place definitely looked lived in, though. The bunks were covered in various covers and blankets either salvaged from derelicts or acquired from various markets (legal and illegal) on multiple worlds. Such were all the other furnishings on board.

The only exceptions were bits of technology one couldn't see just by looking at the vessel. It was modified using Rovarian technology, including its control/computer systems, combat/defense systems (including a cloaking device), and engines/flight tech. These were certainly not the only additions, but they were the most important ones.

This was the Zeleya Maru, whose name no one on board knew the origin of, whose original creators no on on board knew the name of, and who was currently home to two humans and their ghostly friend. Currently the two humans lay on the bunk they shared, Rourke's arm draped over Milo, who had fallen asleep with his glasses on again. Both slept fully clothed, removing only shoes, socks, and any gear or sidearms, though both left their crystals on.

The other bunk had been left for their friend. Not that she had a need for sleep, at least not like they did; it was meant more to give her a space of her own, like they had.

A soft chiming sounded beside them, and Milo's eyes fluttered open.

"mmmm, alright, Maru, I'm up. Cancel alarm."

"Alarm canceled." came the soft voice of the ship's computer from the speaker beside them. Milo slowly eased out from under Rourke's arm and sat up on the side of the bunk, careful not to wake the bigger man, despite it technically being Rourke's vessel.

"Morning, Doom." Milo said, rubbing sleep out of his eyes. "Take it nothing happened while we slept?"

#SO GODS DAMN SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG!!! #I'M WORKING ON YOUR REPLIES NOW. #muse: milo thatch #muse: lyle rourke