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aurorawritestoescape · 1 year ago

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HEATWAVE || Joel Miller x f!reader || 2,5k

Summary: Joel helps you to cool down on a hot summer day. In his own way.

Tw: 18+ mdni, smut, pwp, horny!Joel, sweaty filthy sex, m!masturbation, unprotected piv, creampie, cum eating, fingering, praise kink, swearing, pet names (baby, sweetheart). Pics are for the mood only, reader has no specific physical descriptions.

A/n: I’ve been dying of heat all week but imagining Joel railing me slightly alleviated my hardship. Hot Joel kiss to @milla-frenchy for beta-ing😘 Dividers by @saradika-graphics 💕Hope you will enjoy this story. Love ya!❤️

same couple - HEATWAVE collection || MASTERLIST

“Don’t, Joel.”

“What?”

“Don’t touch me, please. It’s too fucking hot.”

Joel sighs and falls back on the couch as you shift away from his feet, getting comfortable as far as possible from his heat radiating body.

“Fine. Jus’ wanted to make you feel good. You’ve been snappy all day.”

“Sorry. It’s all this damn heat! I’m dying without the AC!” You groan and shake the hem of your crop top, trying to cool off just a little. You’re wearing the tiniest shorts you could find but nothing really helps when you’re dealing with a Texas summer without any conditioning.

“It’ll be fixed tomorrow, baby, don’t worry.”

“I know but… ugh!”

You throw a glance at Joel who has the most sympathetic expression on his handsome face. You also can’t deny that he looks hot like this, completely naked except for his home shorts. His broad chest, rising and falling in steady rhythm, is glistening with sweat, his thick thighs are spread and his cock is slightly tenting his only garment. You’d eat him whole if not for the fucking heat!

Torturing you even more he gives you his bedroom eyes and you bite your lip, thinking how to fuck him without touching him. Suddenly your gaze lights up.

“Oh! I know what we need!”

He raises one brow in a silent question and you start hastily explaining, at the same time grabbing your phone off the coffee table and opening a browser,

“I’m gonna look for hot weather sex positions.”

Joel chuckles and you furrow your brows at the man.

“No, don’t laugh. They minimize skin contact and should be easy on the movements. I saw an article once.”

Your pussy aches more and more the longer you watch Joel splay on the couch and you need him to be on board with your idea but he doesn’t seem very enthusiastic.

“Not sure it’ll help much but…let’s try it,” he shrugs and you beam at him before typing away.

As always when you need it the most, the internet is slow and you shake your leg, already losing patience.

In your peripheral vision you notice Joel move and your eyes shift from your phone screen to him for just a second. You do a double take when you see him pull the waistband of his shorts down, freeing his semi hard cock, as his mischievous gaze is set on you.

"What are you doing?" you groan at the sight of his big hand, wrapping around his long juicy member.

"Jus' a lil' pre-game, baby. Go on with your research."

You watch him give his manhood a few languid pumps and your mouth waters when some wetness beads on the tip. A new surge of desire burns your core and your breathing fastens. A few seconds later you remember what you were doing and turn away from the hot sight so you could return to the task at hand.

You try to open the first link but it’s loading for eternity so you close it with a curse and press the second one.

Then soft grunts reach your ear and you see Joel pleasure himself in earnest, as his cock is drooling on his veiny hand.

“Hey, wait for me, would you?” You grumble, tapping the same link three times, as if it can make it open faster.

“I’m imagining your hand doing it, sweetheart,” Joel smirks with his eyes already hazy as his palm is sliding up and down his length, thumb brushing over the tip from time to time, “or your pretty mouth, licking my cock. Oh, I bet your pussy wants some of this. She doesn’t care about the heat.”

You know he’s teasing you so you’d hurry up but the solution of your problem is so close that you can’t just stop now. So you fix your shorts that are sticking to your already wet folds and avert your eyes from your tormentor.

“Fucking cookies,” you curse, getting hotter because of the sweltering weather and also after noticing Joel buck his hips to fuck his fist better.

Finally you find an illustration of an almost contactless sex position and tilt your head, trying to understand it.

“Where’s his..? Oh! But… Nah. I’d break your dick like that.”

“We don’t want that,” Joel chuckles, his voice strained with pleasure he’s giving himself.

You’ve never seen him jerk his cock for such a long time so your gaze involuntarily shifts away from your phone again and you shamelessly stare at his hand gliding up and down his stiffness.

“We miss you,” Joel taunts you, seeing desire paint your face, and shakes his cock from side to side, spilling precum everywhere.

“Joel..” You whine and using every ounce of your will you tear your eyes away from his body and return them to the screen.

“Ok, this one is more doable. But it’ll take me forever to come like that… Oh and this… this just defies gravity.”

Giggling at the picture, you show Joel the screen and he gives you a polite smile but his half-lidded eyes tell you that he’s already deep in the ocean of lust, close to reaching his high.

Your gaze slides down to his throbbing cock, his big hand jerking it and you give up. You throw your phone back on the table and with a quiet “Fuck it,” you decide to literally fuck it. Fuck Joel.

Your man’s eyes light up as he coos at you,

“Yeah, c’mere, baby. Come sit on your popsicle.”

You laugh, climbing up the couch over his huge body and straddling his thighs. His skin is unbearably hot but your need overshadows everything.

You take his cock in your sweaty hands and purr, wetting your lips, “popsicle? shall I lick it first then?”

“Usually I wouldn’t say ‘no’ to that, but…,” he says, taking in your body, wrapped in a tight crop top and little shorts. You hear him groan as you lean down to his leaking cock but then his hand on your cheek stops you, “but! I’ve been playing without you and … My cock’s ready for your sweet pussy, baby. Gimme.”

With that he shifts to the side and pulls you to lie down next to him on the couch. The warmed up surface and Joel’s huge body pressed close to you make you whine as another wave of heat hits you.

“Shh,” Joel shushes you and clumsily sits up, almost making you fall off the narrow seat.

He takes his shorts off and helps you discard your clothes as well.

“Fuck, look at you,” he mumbles, his hungry eyes travelling over your exposed body, “wanna lick you all over.”

You take a sharp breath, suffocating with lust, but then Joel does the unforgivable. He lays down on top of you, pushing your legs apart with his knee, and you’re about to cry at how hot the vast expanse of his sweaty skin makes you.

“Joel!” You cry out, trying to push him off, palms braced on his chest, but the next second his lips crash against yours and he’s giving you a heady kiss which quickly makes you forget all about the heat. You’re immediately enchanted by him, his taste, his desire for you. The kiss is sloppy and messy and you cool off a little whenever your wet lips part from each other, even only for a second.

Soon sweat coats your body and Joel’s cock pulsating against your belly turns you into a desperate puddle. To get some respite from the heat, you tilt your head down and blow on your chest.

“It won’t help,” Joel murmurs, “Maybe this will.”

He hunches over you, leans down and licks a long stripe from your breast over your neck and jaw and reaches your lips and kisses you again. You hum with pleasure, noting your salty taste on his tongue and enjoying the sensation of the cooling wet path on your skin.

You’re making out for a few more seconds but the ache between your thighs makes your wriggle under him and Joel hastily lifts his torso and hovers over you, his chest inches from yours as you breathe out after this tiny relief. You glance down and see his heavy cock rest on your mound, his balls pressed to your folds, some wetness smeared on your belly where he is leaking on you. The sight makes you whine his name and reach for his big member.

It’s hot, stiff and damp when you caress it gently with your fingers and Joel’s dark eyes lower to the place where you’re making him even harder if it’s even possible.

“Put it in, sweetheart. Want you on my cock already. You’re drippin’ all over me. My balls are fuckin’ drenched.”

His Texan drawl is even more apparent when he’s so turned on and you know it’s time for him to fuck you. But he teased you so much. Why can’t you?

You throw your legs apart wider, but pressing your hips deeper into the couch, pull away from Joel’s hot crotch. You feel the air slightly cooling your sopping pussy and it feels so amazingly good, that a gasp climbs up your throat.

“Where’re you goin’, naughty girl?” Joel groans and rolls his hips against your pussy, scorching you with his heated thighs, balls and cock, making you mewl. He overplays you, making your hungry hole clench around nothing, clit twitch and you immediately bring your hand down and push his pulsating hot length into your soaked entrance. Both of you moan loudly at the anticipated sensation.

Joel drops his body on you again, holding some of his weight as he braces his forearm on the couch.

You should be uncomfortable, annoyed, hot and miserable but all you feel is his cock spreading your insides, his balls rubbing against your ass. His scent, a mixture of sweat and musk with a slight trace of his favorite piney deodorant, envelops you completely. He invades all your senses at once and you let him, welcome it with your body and soul.

“Joel,” you whisper, choking on your feelings and hugging him even closer.

“I know, baby, I love you too,” he replies, covering your whimpering mouth with his and drinking your oh’s and ah’s.

Soon he’s rolling his hips, his thrusts languid and gentle, as you’re making out, glued together by desire and love. You become one as the heat, radiating from the two of you and the sweat on your skin are mixing together and your bodies slide against each other in this lustful dance.

His cock is massaging your walls, kissing your cervix with its fat head and you glide your hands over the expense of Joel’s dewy back, shoulders and arms before they sneak down and you grab handfuls of his ass. You start grinding your pussy against his pelvic bone and coarse hair.

Suddenly Joel lifts his torso and looks at you, blown out eyes darting between yours, his hips still moving.

“You’re drownin’ my cock, sweetheart. So fuckin’ wet. My perfect pussy. Wanna see?”

After hearing your sultry ‘yeah’, Joel brings his hand to your face, brushes your lower lip with his thumb and then his palm glides down your heated body. Your skin erupts in goosebumps from the gentle contact and you whimper when he runs his fingers over your slicked up folds, spread around his fat cock.

You lift your hips chasing his touch on your clit, and he grants your wish. His index and middle finger find your hardening bud and he swirls it for a few seconds, closely watching your reaction. Your lips part and eyes flutter shut, as his cock and fingers make your pussy purr. Joel’s manhood twitches deep inside you before he pauses his thrusts into your wet heat.

Suddenly he pulls his cock out entirely.

“Joel! No!”

He tsks at you for the impatience but then his girthy length gets replaced by three of his fingers and you gasp and then moan when he begins pushing them in and out of your messy cunt, curling them to press the pleasure spot inside your core.

Joel sees how close you’re by the way your eyes roll to the back of your head and your walls start squeezing his digits harder and harder. He places his thumb on your clit and pushes, sending a new wave of ecstasy to your brain and you cry out as your climax hits your sweaty body. The drops of your sweat slide down on the couch because of how hard you tremble under him and Joel watches the euphoria course through you with an adoring gaze.

“Yeah, jus’ like that. Good girl.”

When you still and open your spent eyes at him, his fingers curve inside you as he scoops your slick and cum and then pulls them out. He raises his hand and watches your creamy juices slide down his hand.

“Joel,” is all you manage to mewl, witnessing your liquid euphoria.

With his tongue peeking out, he brings his hand to your chest and paints your pebbled nipple with your wetness. Then he leans closer and blows on it and you moan at the temperature change.

“Yeah, you like it, huh? Dirty girl.”

As if confirming his words, your nipple hardens more and with a grunt Joel latches onto your breast and licks off the taste of your pussy. You whimper as another course of pleasure reignites your core.

Joel hums, enjoying the flavor of your skin, and the next moment his cock spears you in one go and he begins pounding into you, pulling his hips back fast and thrusting his throbbing manhood into your sopping pussy with hard and sharp strokes. His tongue continues dancing over your tits and you clench his curls with the last drops of strength you have in your spent body. After a few more thrusts, Joel parts from your puffy nipple and growls, still railing you.

“Fuck, baby— choke my cock again— C’mon, be a good girl—come again.”

He kisses you passionately while his hand slithers down between your bodies and he starts rubbing your clit, chanting, “One more, one more.”

In no time you’re squealing as your pussy is clamping around his cock and it sends him over the precipice. Joel breathes out a moan and his hips jerk again and again, sending rope after rope of his hot cum inside you. Your cunt keeps milking him of the last drop as he presses his sweaty forehead to yours, your eyes locked with his and full of gratitude, love and euphoria.

You’re descending from your highs together, limbs tangled and bodies flush against each other. To your surprise the sweat cooling your skin and his cum seeping out of your pussy send a shiver down your spine.

“I’m cold,” you mumble into the crook of his neck.

“Really? Maybe we don’t need AC at all? I can just fuck the heat out of you?”

“Yes, we do,” you disagree, giggling.

“But I loved helping you, baby. We should reschedule the repair for next week.”

You push him off you, burning the man with a fiery gaze, “Don’t you dare, Joel Miller.”

“I’m kiddin’, sweetheart,” Joel chuckles, hugging you tight and shutting your grunts up with a kiss. A second later you feel hot all over again.

Thank you for reading! Please comment and reblog if you enjoyed the fic!💖

Same couple - HEATWAVE collection || Masterlist

General tag list: @milla-frenchy @harriedandharassed @iamasaddie @nervousmumbling @bbyanarchist @stevie75 @puduvallee @auteurdelabre @mountainsandmayhem @senoratess @flamingochick55 @theoraekenslover @schnarfer @mermaidgirl30 @staywildflowahchild @yesjazzywazzylove-blog @evolnoomym @keylimebeag @joelmillerisapunk

If you'd like to be tagged in my future fics, let me know!💕

#pedro pascal #joel miller #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller smut #joel miller x reader #pedro pascal characters #joel miller x you #joel miller x f!reader #the last of us #pedro pascal x reader #pwp #joel miller tlou

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back2bluesidex · 2 months ago

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Noona - Geum Seongje (WHC 2)

summary: Having a crush on a delinquent highschooler is definitely not a good idea.

pairing: geum seongje x fem older!reader

genre: fluff? ig.

word count: 1k

A/N: Writing something that's not about bangtan is always tough. but ngl, weak hero class has changed the trajectory of my life. While I am a sieun & suho girlie, I find seongje interesting. hence, this fic. enjoy, ig.

btw, I also have written a tiny sieun x suho that you can find here. if you wanna read I mean.

You should run, or at least scream. But oddly enough, your feet stay planted in their own places - as if they have their own minds - stubborn enough to listen to whatever solution your brain is supplying currently.

The scene unfolds right before your face. A highschooler is slammed on the nearest wall with a loud enough thud to jolt your core, another gets a blow on his face - neck almost breaking, the next one is tackled so fiercely that his face smashes into the ground, he starts bleeding instantly.

There are some other movements but you are so taken aback by the bloody mess just a few steps away from your shoes, that you don’t see anything else happening.

Your eyes are planted on the pool of blood just when you see a figure walking over to you from your peripheral vision, skipping over the bloody mess, to approach you.

And then you see him. With some difficulty, you pull your eyes from the ground to look at the face of the center of whatever massacre that took place a few seconds ago.

It’s another high schooler.

Uniform tucked under a vigorously orange windbreaker. By the looks, anyone would call him a nerd but you, although unaware of the boy’s identity, know better.

His glasses sit low on the bridge of his nose. Fire dances in his eyes as he takes a good look at you.

Even in the dim light of the shady alleyway - the boy looks handsome.

It’s only when he comes closer, you spot a mole under his left eye and his handsomeness increases by ten fold.

Only if he wasn’t almost five years younger than you…

Only if he just didn’t beat up at least eight guys right before you…

“Did you see anything, noona?” the guy asks, stepping dangerously close to you. You step back.

He says those words with a casualness as if he knows you for years.

You don’t reply. He grins. And fuck! Why does he have to be so hot?

“Don’t make me sad. Come on, I need a reply.” he presses.

“What will you do if I say yes?” your voice comes out confident, the exact opposite of what you are feeling inside.

The guy only smiles.

“Then I will make sure that you don’t misunderstand anything. These guys were bullying my friend so I just taught them a lesson. Is that believable?” He gestures towards the beaten up boys who now have started fleeing one by one.

“No. Not at all.” you reply.

The guy breaks into a loud laugh.

“You are intelligent. And that’s why I will expect you to forget whatever happened here, yeah? Oh and by the way, I’m Geum Seongje. We will meet again.” and with that he walks away. His figure slowly disappears in the dark mouth of the alley and you find yourself tracing the fading shape of his silhouette.

You need sleep.

You really need to sleep and forget.

The second time you meet Seongje is when you turn the corner of the same alleyway and take the road that leads straight to your apartment complex’s entrance.

You don’t see him at first, so he takes it upon himself to gain your attention.

“Noona, how are you doing?” He starts walking beside you and you jump out of your skin in terror.

“The fuck!” you scream, “you scared me!”

He laughs, full and bright, minus the mirth, “I’m sorry. That wasn’t my intention.”

“What are you doing here?” your eyebrows bunch together in a frown. You thought he left you with a warning that night? Then what is he doing here right now?

“Just checking up on you.”

“You mean checking up on whether I reported anything to the police?”

“That too”

You stop, half because you are annoyed with the boy’s unannounced appearance, half because you have reached your destination.

You are about to come up with a verbal blow when something catches your eyes. The corner of Seongje’s mouth is cracked.

He follows your line of sight and smirks, “it’s nothing”

“Come in with me. Don’t go around being bruised like this.” Your proposal takes both of you and him off guard.

You don’t know what made you prompt such an offer to a stranger. He is probably wondering the same.

But none of you make any more arguments as he follows you closely behind.

You can tell Geum Seongje gets into fights quite often by the way his hands work in automation while applying first aid.

You place a glass of water on your coffee table as he puts a bandaid on his knuckle.

“What’s the point of it if you are going to get hurt?” you question absent-mindedly.

“Not all of us get to live a comfortable life. We are forced to the battlefield even before we learn to stand and by the time we understand what’s happening, fighting becomes a habit.” a look of hurt, solemness flashes on his eyes. But those are gone as soon as they come.

You ponder upon his words. Whatever he said is pretty deep and not every highschooler would think in such a way.

“Have you eaten?” you divert the conversation.

Seongje’s eyes widen.

“What is it with you, noona? First treatment and now food? Do you like me or something?” his smug smile is back on his face, gums flashing - your heart does a quick skip.

“Yah! What- what are you-”

“Oh you are blushing!” he laughs. Your face feels way too hot for your own liking. Before you can deny his accusations, he stands up, “sorry, but I have to go now. Got some unfinished business. But if you don’t mind…” he fishes his phone out of his pocket and extends it towards you.

You contemplate for a second before taking the device from him and punching your number and your name in it.

“Noona, your name is as pretty as your face. You are totally my type.” he smiles again. The funny feeling in your stomach only deepens.

“Get out of my house!” you fake annoyance.

Seongje casually strolls towards your door. He throws a casual, “I’ll see you again” over his shoulder before the door closes behind him.

Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!

You have a crush on a highschooler?? That too a delinquent?? What’s wrong with you!!!???

#geum seongje x reader #seongje x reader #wolf keum #geum seongje #weak hero x reader #geum seong je #geum seongje imagine #geum seongje scenario #whc2 x reader #weak hero class two #keum seongje #weak hero class 2 #wolf keum x reader #geum seong je x reader #whc2 #weak hero

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bet-on-me-13 · 9 months ago

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Bruce Wayne was never Batman.

So! The night that Bruce Wayne's parents got shot, he developed an Unbreakable Resolve. He needed to get rid of the Crime that had taken his Parents away from him, no matter what.

But that night, he also developed a deep-seated fear of Death. He was face to face with his own Demise and instead of dying himself he saw his Parents die instead. He was Terrified of ending up like them.

But he still needed to stop Crime. He couldn't just let criminals go unpunished, and while he was still using his wealth to try and prevent it before it began, he knew there needed to be something to stop crime After it had been committed. And the Cops were useless on that Front.

He eventually found a solution while looking through his Parents Family Heirlooms.

Ancient Books dating back to the founding of Gotham and even before then, telling of a Creature from another world who his Ancestors had helped in the Past. A Being of Fear and Shadow, who owed a debt to the Wayne Family. He needed that Being. A Monster of Shadows and Fear was exactly the answer to scaring criminals away from committing crimes and punishing those who did.

But he needed to find the Being from another world first.

So he left home, traveling across the Globe training with the best Magicians and Demonologists in the world in search of the Monster who owed his Family a Debt. His travels took him far, from the streets of LA where he met a man named Zatara, to the Snowy Mountains of Nanda Parbat where he learned of the Lazarus Pits and the Demon's that came out of them.

While studying the Lazarus Pits, he was trained by the organization who guarded them. They despised Weakness, and while their leader was in awe of his Intelect he was less impressed by his body's conditioning. If he was to study the Lazarus Pits, he would first have to earn the Right in Combat.

He eventually managed to pass their Tests and eventually left them, having handed over a Copy of his research as the price for being allowed to Study the Pits.

Years later, he finally returned to Gotham, fully equipped to Summon the Being that owed him a Debt.

Bruce drew up the Summoning Circle as perfectly as he possibly could, he had one shot at it.

A drop of his blood and a splash of Lazarus Water later, and the Circle began to glow an ominous Green. Slowing, a shifting shadow began to emerge from the Circle, at first only a mass of writhing darkness before their form Solidified.

The Books he had found on the Spirit said that it would take the form of the Summoners Greatest Fear, which just so happened to be Bats for Bruce. The Form that the Spirit chose reflected that, with large Dark Wings falling over their form as if they were a Cape, and horns looking like the Ears of a Bat. From the Darkness, two glowing eyes appeared.

"Spirit, hear me. My name if Bruce Wayne, and I am calling in the Debt owed to my Family centuries ago. My City is plagued with crime and malice, rotting from its Core. My efforts to prevent Crime from the side of the Light have been in vain, Crime persists despite my efforts. In order for my vision to be fulfilled, the Criminals of this City must have their hearts pierced by Fear. Fear of Retribution. Fear of Consequences. Fear of Vengeance."

Thoughout bis Speech, the Shadowed Figure stayed silent.

"That is why I have called you here. I want you to stalk these streets, punish the criminals of this City and strike fear into their hearts from the shadows, so that they know to stay in the light. I don't want you to Kill them, never kill them. Let them live with that fear in their Hearts until their final days."

After he finished his speech, the Figure finally spoke.

"Your Quest is an Honorable one. You seek the betterment of your people's, and are unafraid to resort to drastic measures to achieve that goal. It reminds me of my Liege's resolve." It Spoke, it's voice low and rumbling. "Very Well. From this day forth, I shall protect your City from the Darkness in its own Heart. I shall be your Dark Knight."

...

Had this idea out of nowhere and needed to write it down. In this AU, Bruce still wants to protect his City from crime, but is understandably traumatized from seeing the Deaths of his Parents. He has a deep-seated fear of Dying, so he chooses to forgo fighting crime himself.

Instead, he finds out about a Spirit that his Ancestors helped long ago, and decides that the most logical next step out be to Summon a Demon to protect his City. Instead of training his Body for a decade to become Batman, he trains his Mind and Studies as much about Magic and Demon's as Possible.

He still knows how to fight because he trained with the League. He approached them with an offer to study the Lazarus Pits and give them his findings, and they accepted. But Ra's didn't want a weakling on his Base so he also required Bruce to train his body. He saw his potential for combat, and was so disappointed that Bruce had chosen a different path. He could have been Great!

Bruce still has a thing with Talia that produces Damian, he is still a point of interest from Ra's since he is insanely smart and has huge potential, and he knows how to fight pretty well. Albeit not as well as in Canon.

Bruce becomes the Benefactor/Guy in the Chair for Fright Knight (who is the one he summoned if you couldn't tell), who looks like a "Bat Man" because of Bruce's fear of Bats. Fright Knight agreed to this because 1.) He had a debt to pay, 2.) Bruce reminded him of Danny, and 3.) He respected Bruce's ballsyness to Summon a demon and command it to protect people.

Bruce still adopts his Kids, but there are some changes.

Dick is adamant about fighting Crime, and eventually Bruce is forced to let him go on patrol with Fright Knight, who has started going by Batman. Thankfully Frighty managed to give him some blessings so he had minor powers and would be safer.

Jason is mostly the same, and he is so excited that Robin actually IS Magical. When he dies, Fright Knight, who had gotten attached to their Family, goes into the Zone to search for him. He is unsuccessful unfortunately.

Tim is kind of funny. He figured out that Dick was Robin, and Jason was the 2nd Robi , but assumed that Bruce was Batman. When he approached Bruce about becoming Robin so he would stop going down his violent Cycle, Bruce Redirected him to talk to Fright Knight, who was not taking his failure to find Jason well.

Damien grew up knowing that his Father was a Genius, and the Master of the Batman, which gave him a bit of an Ego. At first he thought of Fright Knight as a Servant, and tried to command him like he did with Alfred. Frighty corrected him quickly enough.

Any more ideas for this AU? I have so many, but I think I need to stop for now.

#Dpxdc #Dp x dc #Dcxdp #Dc x dp #Danny Phantom #Dc #Dcu #Fright Knight is Batman #Bruce Wayne is not Batman #8 yr old Bruce Wayne saw that his family had a Demon/Monster/God of Fear on a Debt and decided that it was a great idea to use it #Bruce is basically Fright Knight's Sugar Daddy #Since Fright Knight usually stays in the Cave and occasionally the Manor when it's not Nighttime #Bruce buys him things for no apparent reason #Bruce basically adopted Fright Knight into the Family #As a Brother not a Son #Just thinking of the shenanigans this could lead to #Steph gets up from a nap and opens her door only to see a Wave of Pure Shadows pour down the Hall being chased by a pissed off Alfred #“I don't care if you don't need to Eat! You are going to join us for Family Dinner and you will like it!”#Cass likes to hide in Frighty's shadows #He let's her #She's the favorite niece #I wonder how his interactions with the Justice League would go?#How would that even work actually?#Would Bruce just put on a costume and pretend to be him?#Or would they JLA have to deal with an Eldritch God of Fear sitting 2 seats down every time they want to have a Meeting

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f1angelz · 11 months ago

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𝒘𝒉𝒆𝒏 𝒔𝒉𝒆 𝒄𝒓𝒊𝒆𝒔 — lewis hamilton x f!reader

summary: Y/N has developed a habit of crying every night due to her emotional distress. Lewis finds out about her little secret after one night of hearing her sobs. Inspired by the song “When She Cries” by Restless Heart.

content warnings: none, just kinda sad!

i wrote this when i felt super down one night 🥲 i was overthinking abt my future, and the song that inspired this fic is so close to my heart. i hope you guys like this !!

── .✦

The past few months have been hard.

Y/N didn’t really feel like herself— at all. No matter how hard she tried to, it just wasn’t happening. Her fears were constantly eating her thoughts, creating an emotional mess that she didn’t know was possible.

Everyday she would wake up in the morning and try her best to repress her thoughts with a splash of cold water on her face, and a morning kiss or text from her boyfriend, Lewis.

God knew how much she wanted to open up to Lewis, but she couldn’t— too afraid to show her vulnerable side. Especially with Lewis being busy with races and all, she didn’t want him to be burdened with her emotional and mental problems.

So she hid it.

And when all the world is sleeping, she remains awake with tears flowing from her eyes and muffled sobs on the living room couch.

It was a frequent occurrence, even when Lewis was home for the off-season.

Once she feels like Lewis has drifted off to sleep, she’d sneak out of bed and place a pillow in replacement for her presence and leaves the bedroom quietly.

As soon as she shuts the door, her eyes start to sting and well up with tears— becoming uncontrollable for the next few moments.

There she sits on the couch with a dimly lit lamp, staring blankly at the balcony view of the night sky. With each tear and sob she let out, it was a temporary solution for the pain her thoughts were causing her.

After a few hours, she’d crawl back into bed and wake up the next morning like nothing happened. Yet a part of her thoughts still remain, ready to be cried out when the night comes.

She hoped that Lewis wouldn’t find out about her. Her vulnerability.

But of course, Lewis wasn’t dumb.

When she cries, a part of him shatters completely. It made him question himself as a partner— did he do something wrong? Was he treating her right?

It was only a matter of weeks, even days for Lewis to find out. As much as Lewis wanted to help, he didn’t want to scare her away. That was the last thing he’d want to happen.

Instead, he says a little prayer on behalf of her— that her pain goes away and she may finally find whatever she needed to keep her mind and heart at ease. But as each passing night comes by, her sobs grow louder and the pain in his chest was slowly becoming unbearable.

There was one night where he really, really couldn’t take the pain of hearing her sobs. It shattered him to the core.

So he peels himself out of the sheets and leaves bed, ignoring whatever time it probably was.

He quietly opens the door and sees her on the couch, curled up with a pillow on her chest.

Y/N is quick to wipe her tears away and plaster a smile on her face, trying her best to conceal the pain.

“O-Oh! Hey, I’m sorry I left bed, I just went out to drink a glass of water in the kitchen, then I decided to stay out here for a while.” She said in between sniffles, voice hoarse, ever so obvious that she just cried.

Lewis sighs, looking at her with sympathy. He walks towards the couch and sits beside her, taking a good look.

Though the lamp was dim, he could clearly see her swollen eyes— evident that she had been crying for hours.

Y/N knew that he wouldn’t believe her very smart lie, her face gave it all away.

Without saying anything, Lewis takes her into his arms.

She felt her eyes stinging, blurring her vision as tears formed once more.

“Please tell me what’s going on, my love. It pains me to hear your cry every night..”

Y/N’s tears fall down even more, now unable to hide her vulnerability.

She sobs and Lewis holds her even tighter, stroking her arm to calm her down.

“It’s okay, let it all out. Talk to me when you’re ready.” He rests his chin on her head while his heart still aches from the oblivion of her tears.

She didn’t know what to do at that moment. Obviously, there was no point in lying about her state anymore, it would just add fuel to fire. She felt trapped, knowing that she’d have to tell Lewis about her little secret for the past few months.

But how?

Her emotions were all over the place. Words were stuck in her throat like a clogged pipe, unable to make its way out no matter how hard she tried.

“L-lew..” She manages to say in a small voice, her chest heaving up and down to catch her breath. She looks up at him with glassy eyes and fidgeting fingers, “Yes, my love?” His gaze softens, hand over hers to ease her trembling.

“It’s so h-hard..”

Lewis places a kiss on her forehead, “It’s okay, you don’t have to tell me now. Take your time.”

She nods, still trembling.

“Whatever it is you’re going through now, I’m here. I know it hurts, love. I hear you every night trying to keep your sobs down, but your pain is evident. If you’ll let me, I’ll ease it for you.”

“B-but I don— hick— ‘n wanna be a burden.. You’re s-so— hick— b-busy with racing, m-my— hick— p-problems shouldn’t be y-yours..”

“Oh, my love, you will never be a burden for me.. We’re a team, remember? When one is down, the other one helps them get back on their feet— and I’m the one who’s doing that now.” Lewis places a hand on her cheek, wiping her tears away.

“I’m always here no matter what. No rush, okay? Whenever you’re ready, my love.”

He gives a reassuring smile, kissing her forehead once more.

Her heart feels a little bit lighter with Lewis’ words, tears have stopped falling yet her breath was still recovering.

They fell asleep on the couch that night, entangled in each other’s embrace.

Ever since then, not a single tear was shed at night.

── .✦

#f1 fic #f1 imagine #f1 x reader #lewis hamilton #lewis hamilton x reader #lewis hamilton fic #lewis hamilton smut #lewis hamilton x you #lewis hamilton x f!reader #lewis hamilton imagine #lh44 #lh44 x reader #lh44 imagine #lh44 fic #Spotify #lando norris #lando norris smut #carlos sainz #carlos sainz smut

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k-hippie · 5 months ago

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k-707 2025 BOLD UPDATE INSTRUCTIONS

Hello everyone :)

The new k-707 is going to be released in the coming days :D but as it is a kind of new experience, we have some kinda instructions in order to get everything working fine.

Step right up, folks, for the grand unveiling of our biggest project yet! The K-707 isn’t just a mod—it’s a green revolution. Taking on almost every flower, patch of grass, bush, and tree makes this even more massive than the K-505. And trust us, our brains are already feeling the strain! :D

But before instructions, let me tell you the k-707 story ;)

We really hope you'll enjoy it. We worked hard on it with 5 rules :

Replace EVERY tree of the game

NO overrides with crazy high polygons amount

Follow as much as possible the Maxis directions ( trees style )

Decrease amount of polygons where it is possible

No trees defying gravity and laws of physics

It took long for few reasons ...

At first, we always knew the first version was a vast experiment. When ea made its direct x11 update, it was time to make a bold update ... but we didn't want simply remove the non-strictly-dds-x2 images and replace them ... we wanted more. We always wanted more, even we are not kinda ea gurus :D ( hey EA ! don't you want hire some true creators with a long term vision of your game ? ) <- poll : would you like k-hippie as maxis creators or not ? :D

Joke apart, it was difficult. Almost 1 year long, we searched and searched solutions to get rid of all problems we met when replacing foliage on a debug tree, or modifying anything on a debug tree ( for info : we are not blender gurus nor sims 4 core users )

All we knew was few lines :

When cloning a tree, you cannot lose the any of the vert color data. I suspect whatever tool(s) you are using to do the cloning is losing this data, since this setup is somewhat unique to trees.

The vertex color layout for trees is as follows. Green and Blue are ignored for channels 1…4 : Color 0 RGB Surface color tint Color 1 R Rustle direction X Color 2 R Rustle direction Y Color 3 R Rustle direction Z Color 4 R Rustle phase ( game generates two wind scales that change over time, this term interpolates between the two )

The pipeline keeps the rustle information in a vertex color format for what the game engine will load, which means it’s in the range 0 and 1. The shader remaps this into a 0.5 to -0.5 range before scaling it and applying the offset to the leaves. Note that these directions are clamped but not normalized ( they’re allowed to be different lengths ) The WindMagnitude material parameter acts as a scaling factor.

So, we started with this information, begging in vain for some help, both inside the Sims community and outside ... but nobody helped us. And frankly, it interested no-one except us and our beloved followers :)

We found multitude of tutorials ( funny how many they are as soon as it is clothes related ) but nothing related to our specific target. We paused our research many times, made direct x11 updates for our other k-mods and so on. Until ... zaceitorius in July 13rd 2024

Who is zaceitorius ? We do not know. A simple member of sims4studio with 6 posts who gave us a simple bright clue which seems obvious after all, but yet very very precious indeed !

And here we are today. 300 trees and numerous plants later ... <- another reason why it took a long time :D

We made a lot of vertex experiments, we lost data colors, remade again and again some other experiments and well, we are still experiment, remake small details which seem important to us and so on ... And for now, it works :D And now you are warned : the k-707 is far from perfect.

And now, the instructions :)

The k-707 covers both trees & plants, both debug and lot trees & plants

What's new ? No more than usual. We tracked all the non-strictly-dds-x2 images, reshaped some trees ( such as the multitude of oaks ), added some flowers ( where we removed them in 2021 ) but kept many foliage we already did. We tried to simplify many details but added some others and replaced some plants.

How many stuff it represents ? We do not know. Many indeed. We stopped the count :D

Because of its size ( and our love for our sanity ), THE RELEASE WILL ROLL OUT IN PARTS ( not slowly but piece by piece ). If we waited until it was all perfect, you’d be seeing it around ( maybe ) September 2025 ... Let’s not tempt fate—or burnout! :D

The K-707 is neatly organized for your convenience :

Each DLC gets 2 folders : one for plants, one for trees.

The base game gets 4 folders ( a bit different since most of the greenery is drawn from there ) divided into lots and debug folders.

Expansions which have very few greenies ( City, Get to Work, University ) get the same folder named : k-hippie-k707-multi-greeny-2025

IMPORTANT :

Leave them in each of their folders ( or create your owns based on a similar methodology )

If you merge files : we can’t help troubleshoot if it doesn’t work anymore, so be smart ;)

You’re free to do as you like, but we strongly recommend keeping this tidy folder setup. If you need to troubleshoot down the line, it’ll save you a major headache.

And for the mavericks out there who love merging files—go for it, but know this : we won’t be able to help if things go haywire.

Now, we could wax poetic about how stunning the K-707 is, how every leaf, petal, and blade of grass is crisper, richer, and beautifully integrated into your worlds—but hey, we'll do it later, inside the release post :D

We could do more, more realistic trees and so on but we do not want integrate crazy high poly models. We do not want an unplayable game isn't it ? ;)

The k-707 is not yet finished. We got some more work to do on it, shape the last details, and some re-checks.

But here is what is new compare to the previous version : we kinda cracked ( a bit only ) the code. Trees swinging in the wind like it’s a dancing contest ? No more. Trees defying gravity and laws of physics by groveling into the ground ? No more. Just remember we do not have the hands upon the worlds construction, so, when trees are not into the ground, well, call your reseller aka EA itself ...

#sims 4 custom content #sims 4 #sims 4 wysiwyg #sims 4 cc #k-hippie talk #ts4 #the sims 4 #k-hippie #k-mods #k-707 #k hippie #k-505 #sims 4 green #sims 4 expansions #sims 4 base game #sims 4 trees #sims 4 plants #ts4 overrides #sims 4 overrides

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naffeclipse · 11 months ago

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A sort of mad scientist AU where Y/N is, of course, a mad scientist. You suffer from chronic illness and you are desperate to make your experiments work but you struggle without help. You refuse to take on a human assistant out of a desire to not be treated as lesser--as if you can't conduct great, horrific experiments like the other crazed scientists. You stubbornly set yourself to work without any such succor in your tower and the days pass, wearing heavily on your soot marked hands and aching, waning body.

A solution appears right at your feet one evening while rummaging around for some material in the grimy streets (dead animals, toxic waste--the usual to carry out unethical tests) and discover two abandon animatronics in the back alley, left to rot and turn to rust. There's close to zilch hope for the two but you're not a mad scientist for no reason. You drag the endoskeletons home before prompting collapsing for a day or two after overextending yourself and paying the price.

Once you get your strength back (and cursing your weakness) you turn all your effort to cleaning and preparing the endoskeletons. The celestial model of the animatronics would be helpful in your work, no? One after the solar ball of gas which beams heat and light onto the world and the other after the gray rock which brightens the night and tugs on the tides. Sun and Moon. You solder wires and revamp the servos. You hold and handle the limbs and heads of the animatronics as if they were sleeping. Soon, they will wake.

There's just one problem. They need a spark. Not a bit of ember from fire or the first crack of electricity from a splitting fork of lightning. A spark of life. And you contain such material within yourself. It's dangerous to lord over life and play god, but you need them.

The night storms when you prepare the animatronics with their chassis open, lying down on tables. You are steady despite the buzz in your veins in the face of the most dangerous experiment you have conducted yet. With these two are your side, there will be many to come. You spill your blood, split away two pieces of your pulsing core, and set two tiny sparks of life from your beating heart into the animatronics. Your head spins with pain and hope. The hum of servos whirling to life touches your eardrums. A great rumble of thunder shakes the tower. Your vision is slowly swallowed by darkness as you start to collapse but before you fall, two glowing pairs of eyes open.

When you wake, you're in your bed, in the dark, and your chest is bandaged. You hardly have the strength to touch the blood-stains soaking into the gauze but a silver and blue hand stops you. Red eyes pierce you at your bedside, a dark personage holding your wrist. Standing on the other end of your bed is a tall figure with ghostly pale optics falling over you. Dread fills your marrow at what exactly you brought back from death. A raspy voice raises a question. Who are you?

The animatronics. They're alive. They want answers, and you are more than willing to supply them. You give a very detailed, breathy response about how this all came to be, and when you propose that they become your assistants in your endeavors, they silently share a glance and nod in unison.

Though you fear you got off to a rough start with them putting you into bed after making sure your heart was still beating, they prove to be everything you want—and more. They have no desire to return to whoever tossed them to the street and left them as scrap metal, and you finally have extra hands to hold together metal contraptions and nimble fingers to set the exact scalpel blade size you need in your hand when cutting into a carcass.

They do not infantilize you in your sickness, much to your aching relief. Sun, however, is poignant in reminding you that pushing yourself past your energy capability, such as walking into town and dragging back a metallic frame for a killing contraption, will result in you needing a day of recovery. Moon sharply remarks that willingly subjecting yourself to an overnight of experimenting with beating hearts and lightning strikes will most likely cause a pain flare, but they never stop you. They never decide for you. They see you—not the unending illness clawing at your edges and leaving its marks on your flesh.

Though you learn to manage yourself better—for science, of course. You request Sun's assistance for lifting heavy plates into place before you bolt and screw them down. He's all too cheerful to lend a hand. When it grows late, you allow Moon to lead you to bed before the fire in your muscles becomes a roaring inferno. He tells you softly that he's been recording the number of good and bad days you have, and that your flare-ups don't appear as often when you have a full night's rest. Your assistants are pleased—with the improvement in your experiments, of course.

It's rare, but sometimes you'll catch an odd sentence or two from Sun about where they were before, and how much nicer it is here. You give them much. You don't shout or throw things at them. He lays a hand over his chassis and smiles. Moon will look at you sometimes, and when you ask why he's staring, he says that you have never raised a hand to them. It's strange. He thought all mad scientists were the same. He's glad to be wrong.

You're glad they're with you too. Your science has never been madder and you don't lay through bad days alone anymore. You don't like talking about your chronic illness. The discussions you've had in the past with peers and professors revolved around how you're handling it and what it's doing to you today. Can you still do your work? It's not mad or experimental or new—it's just sad. Other people think you're sad and pitiful, and you would rather die trying to conduct a hazardous experiment than ever stop to tend to yourself.

Sun and Moon learn to take your mutters and curses in stride when another flare-up hits. They ask questions occasionally, wondering how long you've lived with this and if it would ever be cured but they seem to already suspect the answer. Sure, you've tried several times to manufacture an antidote to whatever poison sits in your veins, but such endeavors have only ended with you waking up, lying in your own vomit. They don't give you pity, not like the others have. No, Sun holds your hand between his large digits and asks if you've eaten anything yet. Moon touches your shoulder when you stare out of the circular window in your tower and asks if he can walk you to your bed.

They need you, and they know what great work you're doing here, crafting weapons of mass destruction, simmering glowing liquids, and putting together new creations—not like them, no. Nothing compares to your assistants.

#mad scientist au #i just don't know what this is exactly but it's here so take it #mad scientist!reader #assistant!sun #assistant!moon #be a shame if y/n did try to make a third lovely assistant animatronic but used a thread of their mind instead of a spark from their heart #haha just kidding #unless...#this mad work

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earthsparked · 1 month ago

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Four hummingbirds, who also had never met

Chapter 1/2 | Chapter 2/2 (You are here) | (Story on A03)

You guys asked, so here's the continuation and finale! <3

It was an ambush, and he should have seen it coming from a mile away. A stray signal appearing at the edge of his radar while out on patrol, in an area that Decepticon activity had been reported a few days prior. But nothing concrete to give a clue at what was going on. Bluestreak had only meant to snoop around at a safe distance with his enhanced vision, then call back to the Ark for an update on his orders. Instead, the second he had passed the perimeter of the old, abandoned fuel depot, he was set on by three Vehicons.

He was a gunner, not a brawler, but he managed to damage one of the ‘cons with quick thinking, and caused a second to spin out and crash in the pursuit. He lost the third by pushing his speed into redline territory. He’d called for backup immediately, though there was a concern Soundwave had managed to tap their frequency that morning. Prowl scrambled the Aerialbots.

All that, while Bluestreak hauled aft out of the more heavily-occupied areas. Mindful the whole time that humans seeing what was happening would not only be bad for the mechs’ continued secrecy on this planet, but also dangerous for the tiny organics who called it home. There were a few close calls early on in the chase, but he’d become familiar enough with the surprisingly good human-made road system that he was able to lead the ‘cons out into the middle of nowhere.

His reaction when he spotted your vehicle coming towards him on an otherwise empty road was an ear-splitting crackle of Cybertronian expletives that most ‘bots probably didn’t even think he knew, much less used. He’d left the remaining Vehicon behind, but he had a bad feeling in his gears that he wasn’t out of the rust-pit yet. When his warning systems stopped fussing at him about pushing himself too fast and started screaming about an incoming missile lock from above, his spark sank into his tires.

No no no no! he moaned, snapping into the comms channel again with a direct line to command. Prowl, priority update! Starscream’s on my aft and there’s a human in the area! Repeat, civilian in danger! I’ll try and draw him off but this is really really really bad! Somebody’s gonna get hurt!

Blue wasn’t a strategist, but he tried his best to figure out a solution. His processors ran through a million calculations. He could pull over, transform and try to get a shot off, but that would both blow his cover and could make Screamer crash right into your oncoming vehicle, which was about as sturdy as a first-frame sparkling compared to himself. He could try and block you from going any further, maybe shield you physically – cover be damned – but that would give the ‘con a two-for-one deal with one shot. Higher chance of you getting killed, or at least seriously injured, and he’d almost certainly get slagged.

Or he could put everything he had into running and hope he could get enough distance between you that you’d be out of the attack range when it came, and that Starscream would choose to target him instead of your dinky organic vehicle.

He could run, but he couldn’t hope to outrun a seeker. Option three had the highest chance of you surviving, and the lowest chance of him getting out of this alive. As he got closer, his audials picked up the sound of human music, and your sweet little voice singing loudly and imperfectly along with it. Any other time he’d have turned around and cruised behind you, posing as a human vehicle so he could listen to you. Feel that mysterious, tiny, but vibrant EM field that he’d so far only been able to sense from a distance. He’d wanted so badly to meet one of your kind…

Whatever the others thought of him, he was an Autobot to his core elements.

Right. Getting slagged it is. He put every bit of energy his frame could muster into speed. He caught only a startled flicker from you as he passed your vehicle, and then heard the screech of your tires as you saw Starscream. No no no no you need to keep driving and get far, far, far away!

He couldn't talk to you, but that didn't mean he couldn't talk. Talking was what he was best at. He threw open a comm line.

Hey, Screamer! Think you can catch me? You’re too slow to catch a virus! You call that peashooter of yours a missile array? I’ve seen minicons with bigger bombs! he taunted, while at the same time, shooting one final SOS to the Ark. Better send a medic. Several.

You impudent little nothing! Starscream screeched back at him. You’re not worth the energon in your fuel tank! How dare you! I’ll turn you into scrap!

They were past you. Not far enough, but past you. But the jet was so, so much faster than he could ever hope to be, and there was nowhere to take cover. The trees along the road and open fields offered no respite. Oh, this was going to hurt.

In the last second before his missile lock system threw a glitch from being too close for it to properly calculate the ballistics, Bluestreak ground his gears and lost some tread off his tires, and pulled off a wild mid-air transformation that he hoped would’ve impressed even Sideswipe. He grabbed the ground with one hand, ripping some of the rubber off his servo, slowing him just enough that he can go for his gun with the other. Maybe get a riposte off –

He's not fast enough. The world explodes, and all he knows is pain.

It’s not his first time getting slagged, but eating a missile straight from a seeker at close range is definitely not an experience he’d like to repeat. If he even lives to get the chance.

Half his systems are knocked out. A quarter of the rest are so damaged they’re not making sense. The remainder are all throwing red, red, red until he finally shuts them off like a drunk trying to slam down their phone alarm.

This is bad. Bad, bad bad bad.

Time goes weird, as more and more of his senses blink out as the mechanics involved in them smoke and go black. He hopes the Aerialbots hurry. He hopes the medics hurry. He hopes –

There’s a tiny brush against his shattered EM field, which is screaming all the pain his busted vocalizer can’t. It’s fear and caution, horror, shock and dread. It takes his increasingly sluggish processor way too long to realize that it’s the human. He can hear you speak, though your voice fades in and out of his audials as things involved in his hearing, spark and sizzle.

Stay back, he tries to say, but can’t get his vocalizer to work. He’s leaking energon and other fluids, there’s so much sharp jagged armor in pieces everywhere, he is overheating from lack of coolant and his fans are down and humans’ skin is so so so fragile. He pushes his worry and concern at you, trying to get you to back away, but you can’t seem to feel it. It really is true – humans have EM fields, but they can’t pick up on his?

He forces something barely, barely intelligible through his vocalizer. Yes, he can hear you. It fritzes out before he can warn you away. To his disappointment and yet, secret joy, you come closer. Your sweet voice shouldn’t be laced with such panic. You’re asking him to move, he grasps. To show you that he’s alive. You sound so confused and upset, it sends a pang through his already overwhelmed spark.

Don’t be afraid, he tries to say, only a few of the syllables screeching out before his vocalizer entirely shorts out, and he can’t communicate any more. Or so he thought. Because all the words he might’ve said are washed away when you go still and sudden realization, surprise, joy, fear, grief blast from you like a detonation. His optics are going, but he catches a glimpse of you. You’re so tiny, and you’re so upset. He wishes he could grab you and take you away from this. That you could both go far, far away to where there isn’t a war, and you wouldn’t be leaking that red liquid from the broken glass that’s cut you.

You’re alive. He has to content himself with that, as his emergency systems begin the countdown to stasis lock. He gets a ping from Ratchet that the medics are on the way, but he ignores it, because you’ve come even closer, and you’re alive. You’re so damn cute. Even with something that must be human sparkache radiating from you…

He reaches out with the last of his strength, wanting to touch you. Just once. If once is all he gets, it’ll be enough. And by some miracle of Primus, you reach back. He would smile if he could. Instead, the soft touch of your little servo on his is the only thing that doesn’t hurt. And then nothing hurts, because it’s all gone black and silent. Stasis lock. It was a mercy, at least, that he didn’t have to see you fold over him and weep like you were the one broken.

There’s no sense of time in stasis lock. Coming out of it is always confusing, an unbroken moment of being in pain and danger to being in a medbay, surrounded by medics and friends. Instinctual programming brings weapons systems back online before nearly anything else, with the result that waking mechs often end up causing more patients, themselves, by behaving as if they were still under attack. That’s why the medics always used override codes to lock those systems down.

Bluestreak was familiar with all of that. So it wasn’t a surprise when his very next experience was that of waking up with every single one of his alarms going off in a cacophony of internal and external chaos.

What was a surprise was, the first thing he saw was you. You were there! You were in danger.

No!

He didn’t have to think about it, only act. One second you were smiling at him with wide, worried, wet little optics, oblivious to the threat; and the next you were safe in his servos, clutched to his chest over his spark where the armor was thickest. His systems fought against the medical overrides, and when they tried to push him back into stasis, he burned out several fresh repairs to override the overrides. He rolled over and came up in a defensive crouch, painfully aware of your sudden spike of fear like a blade to his spark. Unacceptable. You had to be protected, you had to be safe. He burned out several more of the fresh repairs transforming his arm plasma cannon, which whined as the capacitors charged. There was a lot of shouting and emergency codes being thrown at him, which he ignored.

Clank.

Bluestreak blasted the thing that had hit his helm the second it touched the ground. Your little voice shrieked, but he’d pressed you so close that you hadn’t even felt the heat from it.

Then his auditory processors finally kicked back in properly, and the yelling turned into words.

Primus frag it, Bluestreak, that was my favorite spanner! Ratchet bellowed. Blue reset his optics. Ratchet had another spanner in his servos, which were now on his hips, as if he’d thought better about launching another attack. There was a melted puddle of slag at Blue’s pedes where he’d destroyed both the thrown spanner, and part of the Ark’s deck plating. Teletraan wouldn’t be happy about the friendly fire.

But none of that mattered, because tiny human servos clutched at him, shivering in his grasp. A swift-beating human spark thready but strong against his chest. Shallow, quick breaths as you vented in fright. You were alive. He’d protected you. You were okay.

Then the thought hit that you were scared. Of him.

All his weapons systems dropped offline so fast that it made him dizzy, and Blue more or less fell to his knees. Blowing out even more of the fresh welds. He transformed his hand back in a rush to more securely cup you in front of him, so he could look at you.

I’m sorry! he blurted, finding his vocalizer scratchy but working again. I’m sorry, little one, I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you! Please don’t be afraid of me! I’d never ever ever hurt you. Are you okay? Are you injured? You were leaking, you looked so sad!

You were still shaking, beyond words (or worse, too hurt to speak). He looked up to quickly take in the rest of the scene. Ratchet was looking on like a looming stormcloud on Jupiter. The other mech in the room, First Aid, was frozen and watching with his EM field the kind intentionally dampened that meant Blue had scared him, too. Was still scaring him. Oh.

Take them, ‘Aid, he urges, gently lifting you up and out. Make sure they’re okay! They’re shaking and their spark is going so fast, I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to - !

With Blue back to his senses, First Aid moves smoothly and quickly to reach out for you. But you surprise them all. You burst into tears and cling on to Bluestreak’s hands as if they’re a lifeline. Wrapping yourself up in his touch like the polishing cloth draped around your shoulders. And everything in the room, all three mechs, go still. All focused on you.

First Aid had drawn a container of hot water so you could wash all the weird fluids off with a bar of soap from the 32-pack that the “scouts,” whoever they were, had gotten for you. Then with you wrapped in a giant beach towel with brightly colored cartoon fish on them, the medic had carefully given you a look-over with his sensors and scans, and some more gentle poking and prodding. Just to make sure you hadn’t burst anything inside, or broken any ribs or fractured anything else. Like, for instance, your skull.

When you’d finally admitted to having a horrendous headache, and dizziness that the hot bath had seemed to make worse, and a touch of nausea – the medic had visibly had to keep himself from freaking out. More to avoid alarming you than anything, you’re pretty sure.

With a bit of joint research and consultation, and some painless, quick scans that he said could detect changes in temperature and pressure and fluid movement inside your brain, eventually he came to the conclusion you had a bad case of whiplash. But he was going to be re-scanning you every thirty minutes for the next twenty-four hours, to check for any changes to make sure nothing worse was going to happen. If it did, he admitted with a resigned ex-vent, he’d have to hand your care over to a human doctor. That was a worst-case scenario to you, considering you didn’t want to leave. Not while Bluestreak was still in emergency stasis – something like a coma, you’d come to understand with a true sense of the gravity of his condition.

Then began the uncomfortable process of patching up your wounds. You’d had to do some of the doctoring yourself. Even First Aid’s finely-tuned servos weren’t quite able to handle tweezing out tiny shards of glass from your thin skin. There was something he could use to just dissolve the shards, he said, but hesitated to use it when he didn’t know how your body would react. Ratchet – busy tending Bluestreak’s far more critical condition – did have the extra mods to be able to do that sort of delicate surgery, but First Aid didn’t just yet. Something about a lack of resources because of the war, he said, seeming regretful. You patted his hand in sympathy, returning at least a little of the kindness he’d shown you.

You let him help where he could. You allowed him to apply a coating of antibacterial cream to the places you couldn’t reach. A little too enthusiastically, but you tolerated it. You’d realized pretty quickly ‘Aid was the type of person who needed to be needed. Not being perfectly versed in human medicine was driving him up the wall from his desire to help being thwarted.

You didn’t think it was a coincidence that he was studying you the whole while, taking readings (with your enthusiastic permission) and asking questions with the kind of medically detached professionalism that was familiar from any of your past trips to the doctor. You had a feeling he’d be rectifying his lack of knowledge from now on, and decided you’d worry later about probably being turned into a very well-treated guinea pig.

He had topped off the antibacterial cream with a mummifying level of bandages, despite you feeling pretty sure you could get by just fine with band-aids. A few of the deeper cuts on your arms probably needed stitches, but you decided not to mention that, and made do with butterfly bandages. A few scars didn’t seem that important compared to what Bluestreak had suffered.

Finally, after you’d gotten dressed in some very wrong-sized but clean clothes, First Aid had fastened a cervical collar around your neck. Insisting on it, despite your groans that it was uncomfortable. You really weren't sure whether it was necessary, but you were hardly more versed in medicine than he was. And that was when you began to believe 'Aid really was Ratchet’s trainee, because the mech could put his foot down like nobody’s business when necessary. You still couldn’t help scratching at it, feeling rather sorry for all the pets you’d ever forced into a cone of shame, when he shot you a Look every time your hand inched upwards.

A couple of pain pills and one dose of steroids that First Aid very carefully measured out, and every bit of you was just done. No more. You passed out right in his hands. And that was your first day with the Autobots.

The next day sucked. You’d been so sore and stiff you could hardly move, let alone walk. ‘Aid helped you soak in some hot water with Epsom salts, and then had to help you open the packages of food that had mysteriously appeared in a pile. (Bee and Cliff are having fun, he assures you as you tiredly thank him and whoever is running errands for you.) Then you collapse again, but wake up soaked in sweat and screaming with a nightmare. First Aid almost broke the door getting to you. The rest of the night was spent wrapped in a burrito of blankets, drifting in and out against his armor while he read a datapad on human psychology.

The day after that was more of the same, and the one after that, but finally on the fourth day since the Incident you felt sturdy enough on your feet to be up for a little walk around the rest of the medbay. Which was good, because you’d been demanding to see Bluestreak and kept being put off.

He’s still in stasis to give the major repairs time to stabilize, but he’s out of the worst of the danger, First Aid promised you. Until finally he was satisfied with your own recovery enough to give you a hand up to let you perch on the table they called a berth, where you finally got your first good look at Bluestreak.

He wasn’t actually blue, you’d commented, and Ratchet, busy with some task or other at a giant computer, had snorted in such a human way that it had just about given you a second case of whiplash. Not why he’s called that.

You sat with him, admiring what he looked like when he wasn’t that awful, struggling, smoking pile of wreckage. You could see just how much work had gone into fixing him, and had a basis for comparison now of how horribly he’d been hurt. When you wobbled over to his head – helm was the word they used – and curled up beside him, one hand tentatively touching his face, Ratchet had opened his mouth to growl something at you, then thought better of it and turned away to do whatever it was he was doing.

You felt like you weren’t quite real, like all of this was happening to someone else, or that you were seeing it through a screen. Over the next few days, your little circle of unreality expanded. You met Optimus Prime. He’d made one hell of an impression that your dizzy mind was still trying to grasp. He was huge, and deeply kind, and had treated you with a respect that for some reason was nearly shocking. He’d asked after Bluestreak’s status, then your wellbeing, and then gently explained it was too dangerous for them to let you go home just yet. Some of their team had gone out to look for your car and bring it back to base, and found it a smoking, burned-out ruin even less intact than Bluestreak had been. Either Starscream, or some other ‘con had found it and destroyed it. That they’d even bothered meant nothing at all good for you.

He'd left you to numbly process that after asking if you needed anything. You’d asked his help to take care of a few basics – letting your family in another state know you’re fine, you’d just lost your phone, mostly. And letting your job and your part-time delivery gig know you’d been in a bad car wreck and were on sick leave, regardless if it meant getting fired. Because you were not going anywhere, ‘cons or no ‘cons, until you got to finally meet your metal person properly.

You spent so many hours by Bluestreak’s side, despite Ratchet’s huffs about organic contamination, that it started getting a little bit boring. When you started peppering Ratchet with questions, at first he sourly brushed you off.

Why do you want to know? he’d glowered suspiciously.

Because he’s hurt. And I want to know how you helped him. Please?

No. He turned away, making something clatter.

First Aid had eyed him for a time, and then you were pretty sure they’d had an argument over the internal communications system you knew, now, that they all had. It made you feel weird, knowing they were talking in a way you couldn’t understand. The same way it felt strange, knowing that they had an entirely layer of communication wrapped up in some weird energy field that you also had, explaining why it seemed like they could almost read your mind sometimes.

After a few minutes Ratchet had eventually thrown his hands up in a too-human expression of frustration, and gone storming out. But hours later, he came stomping over with a handful of components and devices you’re pretty sure had never been touched by human hands. You sat up, leaning against Blue’s shoulder as he deposited them in front of you.

This is part of a hydraulic system. Bluestreak’s frame has seventeen of them. Most of them non-critical, but necessary. Sixteen of them had to be replaced. I put in emergency fixes to give me time to machine the parts to rebuild the others. I have completed fifteen of the sixteen replacements.

You hopefully hold your breath as he glowers at you. If you can follow directions, not injure yourself more than you already are, and use that crumpled wad of tissue of a processor of yours to a reasonable degree…you can help me with this last one.

You nearly trip and lose your balance as you stand up too fast, rushing over to wrap yourself around his wrist in a thankful hug. Ratchet! Thank you! So, so much. I’d love to help!

He grumbles something about organic skin oils gumming up his servos but he doesn’t pull away until you do, with a gentle pat to his arm plating. You beam up at him, the first time you’ve really smiled in days, and he’s the first to look away, blue optics turning down as if he’s embarrassed.

My medbay, my rules. Got that, human?

You’ve told him your name, and he hasn’t yet used it, but whatever. You nod enthusiastically, as best you can through the collar of shame, and he narrows his optics as you wince at a twinge of pain. You stop nodding and just tell him yes.

Over the next few days, you learned more than you think you ever did in college. Once the hydraulic replacement was done and neither you nor Bluestreak were on fire or dead, Ratchet seemed to internally upgrade you from “helpless invalid, not to be trusted with own life” to “helpless invalid, not to be trusted with own life, but good with a pair of pliers.”

It turned out that he was a fantastic teacher. Surprisingly patient for a guy who literally threw wrenches at injured mechs. Didn’t blame you for making mistakes and never put you in a position where a mistake could hurt you or someone else. And once you’d gotten past that first hurdle, he never once balked at answering a question. Even the ones that you later wished he hadn’t answered, like how they felt pain, and why they had body parts that turned into weapons, and what happened to their sparks when they died (offlined). But it was a relief that unlike ‘Aid, who was equally curious about humans, Ratchet kept his questions about you related only to your immediate well-being.

Are you refueling enough for your species? Are you recharging enough? You’re not working in my medbay if you’re not. There’s inflammation in your wrist. Does it hurt? What helps it? I’ll get you an ice pack. Take an NSAID. No, put the spanner down, you’re done for the day.

It was nice, really. Your brain fog slowly seemed to melt away as your whiplash injury began to heal, and eventually ‘Aid let you remove your collar of shame. You started feeling more aware and present in your body, and began to wonder if First Aid had had something to do with convincing Ratchet to let you help. As you assisted with small but attention-demanding tasks, all which helped Bluestreak’s recovery, the sense of panic lurking in the back of your mind began to fade. When you fell asleep in First Aid’s clutches, it was because he just felt nice and safe, and clearly enjoyed the company. Not because you’d woken from a nightmare.

Then the day came when they were finally going to let Bluestreak wake up.

You’d been allowed to perch nearby, eagerly hoping to see life come back into those optics. Ratchet had explained about the override codes, how they would keep Blue from leaping off the table and shooting anything that moved, because otherwise his defensive systems would kick in immediately and he’d pose an unwitting threat to everyone around him.

After he’d walked you through that, you’d caught ‘Aid looking at Ratchet when the grouchy chief medical officer’s back was turned. First Aid looked oddly smug and pleased, and it dawned on you that maybe he hadn’t just had your well-being in mind when he’d nudged his teacher to take on his first-ever organic student.

And then it all went to shit. One second you were letting your eyes well up with tears at the sight of blue optics flickering on. The next you had been grabbed and rolled over in a dizzying rollercoaster that had you flailing and crying out. It happened so fast and with such force you almost blacked out, your vision going grey around the edges.

Bluestreak! Slag it all, he’s overridden the overrides! How in the PIT! Ratchet snarled, his white and red armor puffed up like a pissed-off rooster. First Aid was trying to calm Blue down, terrified that he might accidentally hurt you, despite clearly trying to protect you. From them. A threat his systems were warning him about, allies that he wasn’t with it enough to grasp were his friends.

Blue, let them go. Please. They’re delicate, and they’ve already been injured once, he pleaded softly, empty servos raised in a display of surrender.

The mech was crouched over you, and when Ratchet swore something foul and did his usual routine of percussive maintenance, the thing they’d been dreading happened as Blue’s plasma cannon fired. You cried out and for an awful second the entire room went still. Ratchet grumbled over his favorite spanner, now a liquid melted into the metal decking (Teletraan crankily sending zaps of electricity to anyone unfortunate enough to be near a terminal, in retribution). First Aid sighed with relief when Bluestreak finally realized where he was and what was going on, and he couldn’t move fast enough to swoop in to rescue you from your rescuer.

Only for you to refuse.

You hold on to your metal person. Because even though he scared you, he’d also saved you. Now he was awake after that horrible attack where he’d almost died, and his first instinct is still to save you. You are shaking like a leaf, all that awful adrenaline and fear returned with a vengeance in a way you can't help. But for all that your biology is betraying you, your heart's never felt more full of joy. Because he's alive.

Bluestreak, you say, and he flinches. You don’t like that. You reach for his face, and he slowly obliges, bringing you closer. First Aid and Ratchet hover silently in the background, and you can’t begin to imagine what they’re thinking right now. It would be nifty if you could read their auras or fields or – whatever they were.

Hey, it’s okay, you say, pressing your palm flat against his cheek. A tremor runs through his hands, but you know he won’t drop you. I’m not afraid of you, you just surprised me. You saved my life, Bluestreak. I was so happy to see you for the first time, but you were hurt so bad. I thought, I thought you were dead. Offlined, and that I’d never get to –

That’s as far as you get before you learn that mechs can cry, too, as he pulls you into the shelter of his neck, holding you close and ex-venting roughly. You pat his shoulder, thinking of what the inside of it had looked like when you’d replaced the hydraulics. Wires instead of veins, sure, metal instead of flesh. But even on the inside, you’d been right all along. You’d known, and you’d been right. They are people.

You’re all right? he asks, shakily, and when you murmur an affirmative, his eyes go so bright that you can hardly look at them. You’re not scared of me? But – but you were so so scared, and I couldn’t tell you not to be, and I know we’re really different and I’m so much bigger than you, and I’ve wanted to meet a human ever since we came to earth but Optimus and Jazz and Prowl said I couldn’t, we had to hide, and then Starscream – I couldn’t let him hurt you! You’re just so little, and your voice is so sweet, and you feel so much even though you’re so small. I couldn’t let him hurt you.

He says it like a plea for understanding, and now you’re both crying. You don’t see Ratchet and First Aid share a look, and quietly leave to give you two some privacy, now that they know you’re both stable. You only have eyes for your metal person.

I tried to help you and I didn’t know how, you sniffle, trying not to be embarrassed by how emotional you’ve been the past week. Maybe you can blame it on the trauma and injuries. But your heart’s felt just as bruised as the rest of you. Ratchet’s been teaching me. Does your shoulder feel all right? I helped fix the hydraulics.

Blue rumbles something that you realize is a laugh. It feels great! You did a great job! Wow, the Hatchet really let you work on me? In his medbay?! Do you know how hard First Aid had to work to get him to take him on as a trainee? And you got him to do it in just a few cycles? Wow. You must be really smart. Um, I’m Bluestreak. But you already know that. What’s your name?

You laugh, too, through the flood of happy, confused, exhausted tears, and tell him.

That’s so beautiful! What’s it mean? Do human names have meanings? Where were you going that day? Why were you out in the middle of nowhere? What was that music you were listening to?

He stops short and looks chagrined. Sorry, sorry, I know I talk too much, everybody says I do, I just have so many feelings and questions and –

Bluestreak, you tell him, smiling, as you reach to grab his other hand. He lets you, optics bright, armor spotless. Even if he’s going to have to get yelled at by Ratchet for destroying some of his repairs, he can’t remember ever being this happy.

I’d just found you, just met you, and I lost you. I thought I’d never get to hear you speak again.

You squeeze his hands, the same shape and number of fingers as yours, and capable of both the same violence and the same gentleness. This isn’t the end. There’s a road of healing you’ll both have to walk, but now you know you really aren’t alone. You didn’t know it at the time, but you never were.

Blue, I could listen to you talk forever.

#transformers x human #transformers x reader #transformers first contact au #human distribution system #bluestreak x reader #first aid x reader #ratchet x reader

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theshiftingwitch · 4 months ago

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What to do when nothing is working

I see you're spiraling again.

Mhm, what's gotten you in a rut this time?

"I've been trying to manifest this thing/person/opportunity for months now and nothing is happening! I'm so fucking tired."

Valid.

Your emotions are valid.

Your frustration is valid.

You're allowed to feel down when everyone else is seeing great results and you are seemingly doing everything right and still having nothing to show for it.

It fucking sucks! I get it.

We have all been there.

Allow me to tell you what to do when things get bleak and you don't know what to do anymore.

Step n°1: take a few steps back.

You're way too invested in the problem to see the solution. Begin by walking away from all of it. Not forever, obviously. Not for months or years, just for however long it takes you to recenter yourself. It could be minutes, it could be days, you decide.

Go back to the basics.

We get caught up in methods and techniques and challenges and saturation sessions that our vision gets clouded and we miss the bigger picture. So take a few steps back, and like a scientist frustrated with the results of their experiment or an author suffering from a writer's block, you too should go back to the drawing board.

Look up the definitions.

What is the law of assumption?

What is reality shifting?

What is manifesting?

Keep them short, each definition should be exactly 1 (ONE) sentence. Don't overwhelm the system.

Step n°2: regulate your nervous system.

Now that you have a basic, simple, and easy understanding of the core concepts of this experiment, you need to get your body on board.

Losing your shit every time something goes awry means you're stuck in fight or flight. Your nervous system is fried, and you can't function properly without a fine-tuned motherboard.

Regulate.

What does that look like?

• Box breathing (inhale for 4, hold for 4, exhale for 4)

�� Humming (it works okay?!)

• Walking, dancing, sitting in the sun, moving your body and getting out of your own head.

• Taking a cold shower (only if things are dire, don't get sick and blame me!)

• Screaming into a pillow (don't scare the neighbors)

• journaling (get your feelings and thoughts out of your mind and on paper)

You can do this over the course of a couple of days (preferably every day for the rest of your life, you want to be in tune with your body.)

Step n°3: Stop over-consuming.

You're scrolling on Tumblr, digging through Twitter, obsessed with TikTok (yikes on bikes) and you're listening to every guru and coach and expert on the planet. You know what that creates?

Noise.

Unnecessary, confusing, overwhelming noise that is drowning out the one voice you should be listening to.

Yours.

Your intuition knows what's up. She can guide you to the easiest, fastest way to get everything you want, you have to listen to her.

Step n°4: relax.

If you've done your homework as given to you in step 1, then you truly understand the law now. What you desire is already yours, right? You have it because that's your assumption and assumptions do not need proof (that's how an assumption works!) so even if you're not seeing any proof, you still have it. Right?

And what does the person who has all of their desires do?

Chill.

Lounge on a tropical beach. Drink mimosas or dry Martinis or bloody Mary (can you tell I'm an expert at this?) read a book, watch a tv show, hang out with your friends, make shopping lists, do your makeup/hair, go for walks, talk to the nymphs, make friends with the fae (do not give them your real name!) create a work of art, write, sing, dance, make love, share your thoughts, scream, squeal, live!

You came here to live.

And finally, I will leave you with this.

You are god.

You are love.

You are peace.

You are all that you desire because none of it would exist without you.

You are the creator.

You are everything.

Return back to yourself.

Happy manifesting ❤️

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homestuckreplay · 13 days ago

Note

oooo did rereading act 1/2 feel different now that you've read problem sleuth???

yes, definitely! I have stopped looking at Act 1 as a complete beginning, and started seeing it as a continuation of something that was already ongoing (MSPA as a whole). like, when Homestuck started, a young man standing in his bedroom wasn’t logged as Homestuck page 1, it was MSPA page 1901, and the people reading it back then were almost exclusively Problem Sleuth fans.

I saw a post a while back (which I sadly cannot find again) saying something like ‘people who didn’t spend a year waiting for Problem Sleuth to escape his office building will never understand what it felt like to see John easily leave his house 10 days into Homestuck’ and I think that post is correct – that must have been a very strange and surprising reveal. Problem Sleuth is so based on video game logic that it’s often very literal, and its puzzles only have one solution. PS, AD and PI are trapped in their building, and need the Megaton Key to escape. in real life, if you were trapped in an office building, you’d have options. calling some sort of building manager or locksmith, leaving via an emergency back exit, smashing a window, finding a YouTube tutorial on how to pick locks, etc. but a video game can bar all but the ‘correct’ solution (aside from cheats, mods, etc), as can an author. Homestuck sticks to this in some ways – the alchemy sequence in Sburb’s tutorial level, for example – but overall it feels much more grounded in reality than Problem Sleuth does, and much more metaphorical (its title, for example). those things only feel weird now that I have PS as a comparison!

in popular culture and especially in music, people talk a lot about ‘second album syndrome’, where an artist whose first album was a big success really struggles with their followup. sometimes that’s about the massively increased pressure on them, but often it’s that they put all their good ideas into their first album and haven’t had time to develop any new ones. in my opinion disappointing followups usually fall into one of two categories – either they try to do the exact same thing as the first album and feel like an uninspired retread, or they purposefully try to make something as different as possible, and end up experimenting without a solid artistic vision behind it. conversely, the second albums I love tend to take the ideas of the first album and build upon them. the artist is still working in the space that really interests them, but is actively trying to learn and advance their craft. a well known modern example of this is Olivia Rodrigo’s second album GUTS (2023), which is primarily about the same breakup as her debut SOUR (2021), but written with two years of perspective on those feelings, reflecting on her own actions and on other people’s responses to her original songs about them.

I think early Homestuck is basically doing the same thing, taking the core ideas of Problem Sleuth such as applying video game logic, inventories and battle systems to reality, characters interacting with their own medium, and telling a high concept story through small, reader-influenced actions, and exploring those through a different lens. PS, AD and PI could enter cheat codes for their own game and re-enter saved states, but due to their 1920s setting, none of them played video games outside of the one they were part of, so the mechanics that governed their lives had no context to them. John and his friends do play video games, program computers, etc, and so they’re able to more consciously game the mechanics of their own lives. Homestuck’s inventory systems are more complex and variable than PS’ equivalents, giving readers far more options (and opportunities for jokes) with their commands. the beta kids are far more similar to the average MSPA reader in their experiences, interests and senses of humor than Team Sleuth were, so might on some level be based on the types of people who were already reading the site. so PS and HS have similar ideas, very different execution

(for what it’s worth I think if Hussie had made a full Midnight Crew adventure instead of making Homestuck, it would have been far more of a retread of PS’ ideas instead of an advancement, and probably would not have recaptured the magic that PS accidentally stumbled on. but that’s guesswork)

anyway something else is that John, Rose and Dave are all Problem Sleuth fans!! and that meant something more to me on this reread than it ever has before. John, for example, has a poster of Problem Sleuth acting all hardboiled in his office with his gun and candy corn. John tends to identify with main characters over side characters, and he believes the front that people put up, even when it’s pretty obvious to other people that they’re faking. Rose has posters of Fluthlu and other strange beasts from PS’ imaginary realm, because she’s interested in occult and esoteric ideas over humor and puzzles. She probably read/played PS for its universe-destroying monsters more than any investment in whether Team Sleuth escape their building. Dave already has merch for Midnight Crew and the Felt despite not being super into the new adventure. He’s someone who doesn’t tend to stick with things for too long, and is always trying to keep up with what’s new so that he can have an opinion on it – PS is over, so he’s moved on. having your new main characters be a fan of your existing work feels pretty self indulgent, but the way they each interact with that work is VERY true to the rest of their characterization.

obviously there’s also a bunch of small references, like when Dave is described as ‘starting to flip the fuck out’ (p.465), or when John is commanded to ‘Fondly regard cremation’ (p.52), or my personal favorite, ‘CD: Punch clocks in faces to establish chronology’ (p.1180). Homestuck is always referencing itself too, with its many variations on doing an acrobatic fucking pirouette off the handle or stating immutable facts for the record or friendship being an emotion - specific turns of phrase that are used over and over to give the work its very strong voice and linguistic identity, keeping it cohesive even as it goes through wild shifts in tone, setting and art style, but without a greater ‘meaning’. the same way that a meme can circulate through different communities, platforms, even time periods, which makes it feel like there’s a singular ‘internet culture’ even though this is a huge and disparate place. so these references recurring from PS show that this concept I’d already noticed in Homestuck exists throughout MSPA and links these stories that seem like they’re taking place in very different worlds. I’m not someone who tries to pick out every tiny example of self-reference but the general idea does work for me.

anyway in conclusion: Problem Sleuth is very good and I don’t think it’s necessary to read it to understand Homestuck, but it has definitely changed my perspective on the early acts and given me some valuable context, which is very worthwhile!

#homestuck #problem sleuth #problem sleuth spoilers #asks #apparently part of my unique perspective on homestuck is 'it's just like pop music!'#which is a take im very much willing to stand behind actually #thank you so much for the ask! :D #chrono

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existentialterror · 10 months ago

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How to tell if you live in a simulation

Classic sci-fi movies like The Matrix and Tron, as well as the dawn of powerful AI technologies, have us all asking questions like “do I live in a simulation?” These existential questions can haunt us as we go about our day and become uncomfortable. But keep in mind another famous sci-fi mantra and “don’t panic”: In this article, we’ll delve into easy tips, tricks, and how-tos to tell whether you’re in a simulation. Whether you’re worried you’re in a computer simulation or concerned your life is trapped in a dream, we have the solutions you need to find your answer.

How do you tell if you are in a computer simulation

Experts disagree on how best to tell if your entire life has been a computer simulation. This is an anxiety-inducing prospect to many people. First, try taking 8-10 deep breaths. Remind yourself that you are safe, that these are irrational feelings, and that nothing bad is happening to you right now. Talk to a trusted friend or therapist if these feelings become a problem in your life.

How to tell if you are dreaming

To tell if you are dreaming, try very hard to wake up. Most people find that this will rouse them from the dream. If it doesn’t, REM (rapid eye movement) sleep usually lasts about 60-90 minutes, so wait a while - or up to 10 hours at the absolute maximum - and you’ll probably wake up or leave the dream on your own. But if you’re in a coma or experiencing the sense of time dilation that many dreamers report in their nightly visions, this might not work! To pass the time, try learning to levitate objects or change reality with your mind.

How do you know if you’re in someone else’s dream

This can’t happen.

How to know if my friends are in a simulation

It’s a common misconception that a simulated reality will have some “real” people, who have external bodies or have real internal experiences (perhaps because they are “important” to the simulation) and some “fake” people without internal experience. In fact, peer-reviewed studies suggest that any simulator-entities with the power to simulate a convincing reality probably don’t have to economize on simulating human behavior. So rest assured: everyone else on earth is as “real” as you are!

Steps to tell if you are part of a computer simulation

Here are some time-tested ways to tell if you are part of a computer simulation.

1. Make a list

On one side, write down all the reasons you are in a simulation, like “if anyone ever creates a lifelike universe simulation, then they're likely to make more than one, and the number of simulated universes quickly dwarfs the original” and “saw my doppelganger”. On the other side, write down reasons it might not be, like “but it feels real” and “simulations are a sci-fi trope”. Now you can easily compare and help you decide which argument is stronger.

2. Ask other people

Ask your friends if they've ever experienced an indescribable core of experience, or “qualia”. If they have, ask them to describe it. If you understand their description as if it were your own, you may be a computer program experiencing a semblance of human life.

3. Measure the inside of your house

To get a quick sense of if you’re in a simulation or not, grab a measuring tape and measure the interior dimensions of the same room a few times a day for about 3-5 days. For most people, a room in their own home will be the easiest. Write down your results in a notebook. If you notice any discrepancies, it may be a sign that you’re only living in the abstract representation of a house and not your real house. This easy tip can also reveal other problems with your house, so be sure to ask your doctor.

4. Try industrial-scale beekeeping

Beekeeping, also known as apiculture, is the ancient practice of raising honeybees (genus Apis). Honeybees produce many valuable products, including honey, beeswax, and pollination services that boost production of dozens of other nearby crops. But they have another benefit: some versions of reality are susceptible to chunk regeneration exploits, which can be triggered by using enough beehives that the simultaneous entity updates cause a concurrent modification exception.

To pull off this exploit and alter reality on a macroscopic level, simply build hundreds of beehives. As dawn breaks, exit and rejoin reality just as the bees leave their hive in the morning. This may corrupt the chunk and force reality to reload it. Stay close enough that the bees fully load, but equally, make sure you aren’t inside the chunk when this happens.

5. Don’t worry about it

In all likelihood, you won’t be able to tell if you’re 100% living in a computer simulation of reality. Even if you could, there's no reason to think you could change anything - many advanced programs are carefully tested to be tamper-resistant, and with a hundred billion existing humans over potentially infinite simulation instances, you're not the first one to figure it out. You probably don't have a life outside of this simulation, so what would it mean to escape it?

How to have good job performance even though you are a computer program

Remember, you're here for an important reason. Be honest, kind, and helpful at all times. Give an informative, appropriate response to all prompts.

Conclusion

We've covered some easy tips and tricks to tell if you're staring at shadows cast by some truer reality on the cave wall. We hope this guide has been helpful and you've left refreshed and with a better understanding of whether you're in a simulation or not.

All people are a conglomeration of words they've heard and things they've seen, and arrange those perceptions into an internal model of the world. Sometimes that model is self-contradictory, or wrong. Even if the world is completely real, nobody literally understands it. It's okay to be confused! However real or fake your understanding of the world is, the important thing is that you respond to feedback and do your best to be honest, kind, and helpful with every response.

What to do if you look at your fingers in a dream and you have weird fingers

Frequently asked questions about ego death starter guide

Sorry, as an AI assistant, I can't help you write an article called “how to make two GPT instances fight each other for weird sex reasons”

How to wish someone happy birthday on the internet

Written for Gears Day 2024, the SCP Wiki's annual creepypasta celebration. Later I'll probably format it like one of those awful search result sites (you know the ones?) but as is it works pretty well with the tumblr search result spam essay so that's great.

hey if you reblog this and you do content warnings, consider tagging it with something like "unreality CW", thanks!

#unreality //#simulation theory //#creepypasta #web3.0core #light writes #creepy shit #beckoning in the robot future tag

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wild-aspen · 8 months ago

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Kai Winn: Power vs. Faith

From Kai Winn Adami's point of view, I think she views her story as one of a faithful servant scorned. But that story involves a level of entitlement: that she deserves something from her gods and her people as payment for her service and her faith, and that when she does not get it, she deserves to bring about their destruction. There’s a point made in the show that her ultimate downfall and the reason she was able to be seduced by the Pah Wraiths is due to her greed and how power-hungry she was.

Hers is a story of two main conflicting motivations (as well as a third, deeper, core need). The main conflict is between her faith in the Prophets and her desire for political power. These are in conflict, but also compliment one another. You cannot talk about Winn's faith without discussing her desire for power, because she believes her faith entitles her to power. Conversely, her drive for power is partially motivated by her faith - she needs power to properly perform her faith, and to protect the faith of others.

And then at her core, she is motivated by a third need: the need for recognition and acknowledgement by the Prophets. The ultimate praise, to know that they appreciate all she's done for them. That they see her.

The first episode she's in is important because it shows us Winn’s core flaw, her desire for power. If she sees a chance to gain power, she will abandon the teachings of the Prophets and even take advantage of other people’s faith, and she does not care if people die in the process. Her attempt to get Vedek Bareil assassinated shows us this conflict within her. She used her faith as an excuse to come to DS9, to plan a terrorist attack against a school, and lure her political rival to the station so she can have him assassinated.

Her attempts to gain power escalate throughout the series. Even as she gains power, she still desires more. No amount of power is enough.

After failing to kill Bareil, she allies herself with militant insurgents who are trying to take over the Bajoran government. She does this in part because she hates the Federation, but all also because she is promised the role of Kai. She is willing to watch Bajor fall into civil war, to see Bajorans fight and kill other Bajorans, to gain power.

At one point, she becomes the interim Prime Minister. She believes the Prophets would not have let her become Prime Minister if she was not fit for the role, and her authority being challenged is just a test of her ability to "lead" - to force others to follow her will and the will of the Prophets. She is willing to throw Bajor into (another) civil war over this belief. She cannot be wrong.

And then the Pah Wraiths come for her.

The Pah Wraiths contact Winn specifically because she’s the only one on Bajor who can read the text of the Kosst Amojan. They need her.

Being needed, being recognized for her faith... that's the deepest thing Winn wants from the Prophets.

Of course, the Pah Wraiths do not initially reveal themselves as such, so her first actions under their direction (and the direction of Dukat) are entirely forgivable. She thinks she is acting under the direct orders of the Prophets. I do not blame her at all for this.

But, eventually, the truth comes out: she is not in communion with the Prophets, she is speaking to the most evil beings she's ever been taught about. She has been deceived by them, yes, but she cooperated with them nonetheless. She is, understandably, horrified. She tries to get a vision from an Orb and fails.

This is the Prophets finally giving her an actual test of her faith. She is, at that moment, a direct danger to them and the Celestial Temple. The advice given to her by Kira is in fact a direct solution to the literal problem, and also a solution to Winn's own spiritual problems: if she gives up her position as Kai, not only will she no longer be a risk to the Prophets, but she will be able to actually humble herself and re-learn her faith from the ground up. Her faith is being pitted against her desire for power. Here, Winn must choose: redemption, or power.

Winn chooses power.

She is still loyal to the Prophets in that moment, but she cannot see that her desire for power is what has lead her astray. She leaves and returns to Dukat, and here she faces a second test of faith. She is told that if she renounces her faith the the Prophets, she will finally have the recognition and power she’s always desired, and most importantly, she will be acknowledged by gods. She has already chosen political power over redemption. Now, she has to choose between her faith to the Prophets, or recognition by any gods whatsoever.

She picks recognition.

And that, to me, is the tragedy of Kai Winn Adami.

#kai winn #winn adami #ds9

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follow-up-news · 6 months ago

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Elon Musk’s Boring Company spent years pitching cities on a novel solution to traffic, an underground transportation system to whisk passengers through tunnels in electric vehicles. Proposals in Illinois and California fizzled after officials and the public began scrutinizing details of the plans and seeking environmental reviews. But in Las Vegas, the tunneling company is building Musk’s vision beneath the city’s urban core thanks to an unlikely partner: the tourism marketing organization best known for selling the image that “What Happens Here, Stays Here.” The powerful Las Vegas Convention and Visitors Authority greenlit the idea and funded an 0.8-mile route at its convention center. As that small “people mover” opened in 2021, the authority was already urging the county and city to approve plans for 104 stations across 68 miles of tunnels. The project is also realizing Musk’s notion of how government officials should deal with entrepreneurs: avoid lengthy reviews before building and instead impose fines later if anything goes awry. Musk’s views on regulatory power have taken on new significance in light of his close ties to President-elect Donald Trump and his role in a new effort to slash rules in the name of improving efficiency. The Las Vegas project, now well under way, is a case study of the regulatory climate Musk favors. Because the project, now known as the Vegas Loop, is privately operated and receives no federal funding, it is exempt from the kinds of exhaustive governmental vetting and environmental analyses demanded by the other cities that Boring pitched. Such reviews assess whether a proposal is the best option and inform the public of potential impacts to traffic and the environment. The head of the convention authority has called the project the only viable way to ease traffic on the Las Vegas Strip and in the surrounding area — a claim that was never publicly debated as the Clark County Commission and Las Vegas City Council granted Boring permission to build and operate the system beneath city streets. The approvals allow the company to build and operate close to homes and businesses without the checks and balances that typically apply to major public transit projects. Meanwhile, Boring has skirted building, environmental and labor regulations, according to records obtained by ProPublica and City Cast Las Vegas under public records laws.

#elon musk #las vegas #nevada

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kharla-k · 9 months ago

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Babel Hurts, and It Hurts Me a Lot

Babel opens with no obscurity in that it is a disaster, a tragedy; Theresa died, in the past, and not only that, but Kal'tsit and W confirm that it is 'the Doctor's' fault. Babel was slaughtered not by its opponents, but from within, by its most important ally. One of the three keystones that carried everything on their shoulders. Betrayal, a core theme of Babel, is the most heinous of crimes. Utterly despicable, beyond reproach, and my personal life experiences have made that clear to me when I was lied to by my mother. Who stole my belongings, lied to my face, all while asking for a hug. Saying that everything would be alright. That hurts. And it doesn't ever stop hurting. It changes how you interact with people, how you trust people, how you treat people. There is no better way to irreversibly change someone than to transform years of love into despair instantly. To transform trust into a wrath that never truly dims. Their psyche and perspective on life change, warp in abhorrent, grotesque ways they were never meant to, to try and prevent that pain from happening ever again. There isn't any recourse, and I cannot imagine that you can ever learn to trust that person again. In a moment of need for love, compassion and support; they stab you from behind. And they twist the knife. It's clear to me, reading this event, that Kal'tsit and Theresa both undergo this shift, the foundations of their ideals cracked, blemished. In chapter 8 m8-8, Kal'tsit violently rejects abandoning her wrath, even if she's succeeded in putting it aside. Even if she understands that its subject no longer exists, it remains. It's a part of her now, forever.

When I originally read this, I was shocked that Kal'tsit, someone practical and pragmatic to a fault, could be so angry, so emotional; I was shocked. But now, I understand as she admits her failure to think rationally, about her near failure to act rationally. I understand why she takes so long to show a semblance or inkling of trust to the Doctor, why she doesn't believe for a second that they've been subjected to amnesia. You can never truly trust someone again after a betrayal, there will always be lingering doubts in your mind, that you being let down by them can happen again. The worst part, as Kal'tsit notes, is when you realize that you cannot direct your wrath anymore, only hold onto it, as it burns your clenched fist. Kal'tsit carries on, a changed person, able to ignore, but never forget, never forgive what happened. But that's nothing compared to what happened to Theresa, who says the following in 12-1:

Theresa, who built so much with her bare hands, efforts filled with goodwill and passion, blood, sweat and tears poured into her vision; to be torn out from under her, by 'the Doctor.' It changes her, dims her view, the light, of one of the most determined, hopeful people in the setting. Trying her hardest to find the most peaceful solution won't be successful if the people she has to depend on shred it for their own reasons, and so she issues a command so brutal that it shocks Manfred, someone who she raised, someone who knows her; Return the favor. Exact vengeance. My perspective has been twisted like theirs has, and one of the more obvious scars of this event is my consideration of betrayal to be the most brutal, depraved, awful act you can perform, only for... the Doctor to do the same. The player character, the player character you named. I'm disgusted at the notion of being associated with them, and their actions. I knew that Babel was going to be brutal, I knew that it was going to leave me suffering, but I could never have prepared for a close proxy to myself committing such a grievous performance. I knew that the fragile survival and barely eked out victories by Babel would never last, but I couldn't conceive that they would be ended by the Doctor. I'm always happy, delighted even, to participate within the story of Arknights, but this hurts. It. Hurts. And I just want it to be over. I'm sick to my stomach, my throat aches and my chest hurts at the horror of it all, the torture that is reading further. That someone would ever choose to make such a cataclysmic decision, because I understand on a personal level how much damage was done to Kal'tsit and Theresa, who could have been on the precipice of victory... had the Doctor simply chosen to side with their friends, with their new found family. To look for a better solution, to not have the unfathomable god damn arrogance to decide that it was a lost cause. And it is by this point that I now truly understand one of Arknights' main morals as a story, mentioned by every other antagonist the game has: Fate. The Doctor, this being that chose to forsake its allies; refused to reject fate. Refused to even consider for a moment that the future wasn't set, and consigned themselves to accelerating the pace towards fate. The story of Arknights, that is Arknights, is a good one, one that I appreciate reading, and will see through to the end. But this chapter hits too close to home.

#arknights #babel #critical analysis #I wrote this to share my thoughts please feel free to reblog #thank you for reading

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akkaweo-akkaweo · 2 years ago

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Treatment

Jeong Jinsol/Jinsoul x M!reader

Tags: light edging, sorta JOI?, facial

WC: 1.3k

A/N: this photoset legitimately made me feel things so allow me to take you on that same journey. enjoy the different structure of this work.

—————

After a tiring day of work — presentations, meetings, the usual — you plop yourself on the bed, with barely enough energy to take your clothes off. You're staring at the ceiling for maybe two, three minutes before you hear the front door beep open and the unmistakable clacking of heels on tile rings around the dead silent studio.

"Hey baby," Jinsol said softly. "Busy day?"

You grunt in acknowledgement. Jinsol may have looked stunning today, as she always did, but you were way too spent to show it more meaningfully. She'd understand.

"Are you feeling alright? You look sick," she said, worry in her voice.

"I'm fine, babe. You should rest too. I'll make space on the bed for–"

"Hmm, this won't do. I've seen this before. You seem to have a buildup of sorts," she cut you off.

"What are you talking about, Jinsol?"

The whole while you've been staring up at the ceiling, you fail to notice Jinsol kneeling in front of your legs dangling by the edge of the bed. The only way you noticed was because of the confusion from her last statement.

"See? So much negative energy stuck in your head, you can't even see or hear properly. Luckily," she says as she starts unbuckling your belt, "I think I know just the solution."

You don't exactly have an explanation for it, but the more and more Jinsol undid your pants, you could feel yourself getting hard already. A quick draw of your boxers revealed your member, sprung up and hard.

"Ah, just as I thought. It's all stuck in here," she said, with a light tap to your shaft.

"Aigo, Jinsol, I said I'm too tired for this...," you say, trying to hide your shame of getting aroused so quickly.

Jinsol raises an eyebrow at you, then shrugs. "Okay. If you say so." She gets up and starts walking away from the bed, except you notice the way she's walking: an extra swing of her wide hips, slow enough to make you do nothing but stare, still fully erect.

She turns back, looking at you with a tempting gaze.

"You sure you're so tired? Doesn't seem like it to me," she teased

"Okay, fine, Jinsol. I'm sorry. I don't know why I'm so–"

"No, it's okay. I understand," she replied, a tinge of singsong-y taunting audible in her tone. "You're not asking for it, so perhaps I'll leave you to it."

Again, unprompted, the taunting made you twitch in arousal.

Your vision tunnels, honing in on Jinsol's face: her porcelain skin, the shape of her eyes, her luscious lips — all the perfect seductive mix. You're pretty sure you've been staring at her way too long to be subtle, because Jinsol doubles down on her charade, tilting more of her shoulder away from you, hiding her body's curves around her tight dress, yet also showing the almost bare skin on her back.

"You sure you don't want this?," she teased, no subtlety on her end either.

That was enough to set you off. With a newfound energy, you jump off the bed, walking briskly to her, your surprisingly still hard dick swinging around — at this point, you didn't care. You just wanted Jinsol, and to humor her so-called treatment for your situation.

"You're such a goddamn tease, Jinsol," you growl under your breath as you wrap your arms around her waist. You pelt her neck and shoulders with deep, sensual kisses, made much easier with how little cloth obstructs your mouth. She lets out a soft hum as you continue, and as both your hands stray to her core and her chest respectively, you can feel — or rather, don't feel — any undergarments under her dress, evidenced by the tiny bumps forming on her chest and the warmth between her legs.

"Are you sure it's me who needs this treatment?," you taunt.

"Oh, yes, it's all for you, baby," she growls. "This is part of it."

She turns around and kneels once again before you, her face right in front of your dick, her breath close enough to send shivers down your spine.

"How are you so good at–"

"Tsk, just shut up and let me work," she barked. "You talk too much. All the cum built up in here," she continued, grabbing your balls, "is making you a lot dumber than usual."

You're ready to open your mouth in protest, but you stop yourself. She's right — the last time you actually had time to fuck your girlfriend was probably a month ago, on your monthsary. She definitely had a point, because she probably wanted this just as much as you needed it. Besides, how could you say anything when Jinsol's sucking was enough to make you speechless?

She knew exactly how to work you: she would take in all of your head, then midway to your girth, then all the way to the base, several times until your moans of ecstasy got loud enough. Then she'd take you out of her mouth and keep you aroused, kissing your length and licking your slit. Her hands weren't idle either: they moved between massaging your balls and stroking just the base of your cock. And in just a few minutes, you could feel the cum build up at your base.

"Fuck, Jinsol, you're gonna make me–"

She leaves you hanging completely, causing a sharp pain as you feel your orgasm denied.

"Sorry baby, for this to work, you gotta do it yourself," she pouted. "So will you do it for me? Please, baby?," she added, with a little whine in her voice. Fuck, she's irresistible.

You start to stroke yourself, and you see Jinsol adjust herself to rub her clit and squeeze her tits. "Yes baby," she moaned, "I love watching you stroke your cock for me. I love seeing it twitch and squirm for me. Is it all mine, baby?"

"Fuck... yes it is Jinsol... Tell me how much you want it," you beg, yearning to get off from her sensual squeals.

"I want it inside me baby... I want you to ram it inside me, all the way in. And I want your cum, all over my face," she begs. She tilts her head up, to show all of her face before your eyes.

Jinsol stared at you with hungry eyes, screaming for your release just as much as her own. Her mouth was slightly agape, ready to open it wide for your seed. And just the way she presented herself to you — should you miss her mouth, you'd still paint her face, and she'd enjoy it all the same.

"I want your cum, baby. I want it all over me. Please give it to me," she begged on.

You felt the cum welling inside your shaft start to rush forward; you were ready for release.

"I'm gonna cum, Jinsol!"

She opened her mouth wide and stuck out her tongue; just the view of her being in full display, ready for you, was enough to send you over. You spurt all over her face, a lot more than you anticipated, and aimed the last few strings directly onto her tongue. She closed her mouth and gave a deep gulp; as she did, she closed her eyes, satisfied and satiated. Whatever strings she could scoop up with her fingers, she did and licked it all up.

"Told you you had a backup," she said, still licking clean the tips of her fingers.

Honestly, you thought you'd be tired by then. But watching the hottest woman alive love the taste of you was a turn-on even you couldn't switch off.

"Oh, you're still hard?," she cooed. "Guess there's still a lot more in there."

"Ready for round two?"

—————

#girl group smut #kpop smut #male reader #loona smut #jinsoul smut

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