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emiqip · 4 months ago

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apocalyptic ponyo au!! ft. shockweaves little menaces. @keferon

One week had passed since Skids saw the ocean swallow their city whole.

It happened during one of those lazy days in the Dead End: with the cold season drawing near, few people roamed the dirty narrow alleys, more preoccupied scavenging for a place to settle down and spend the winter. He and his sort-of-not-really-adopted bunch of siblings had the luck to find an old gazebo made of sheets of rusted metal, basically a five star abode especially when your main concerns where a) not getting pissed on by the sky and b) find an actual place able to hold ten scruffy kids.

And even with nothing, life was good- or as good as it can get. Not having to fend and fight on the streets for yourself, having someone to bicker and argue with for the stupidest little things but still knowing everyone will have your back until the very end. The nights spent huddled together for warmth while Thundercracker, being the only one who knew how to read, dramatically re-enacting the scenes from a fairy-tale book and when storms so loud the walls of their shelter shook hit the city, you could pick out the soft humming of Damus, lulling the younger kids back to sleep.

Yeah, life wasn't anywhere near perfect but it was enough.

But now...

The partially sunken landscape could suck all hope from one's soul. The once lively and bustling city was now a wet husk of rubble and toppled buildings. Abandoned vehicles and all sorts of trash floated on the surface, littering the water for miles. He was honestly impressed at how fast it all went down- them barely making it out only thanks to their shitty shelter, that served as a make-shift raft until they eventually reached a patch of dry concrete.

They've been walking for a few hours now, trudging between shallow water and debris, never daring to test their luck and trying to swim- they all got a taste of what lurked in the deepest parts during their little trip on their rackety raft and came to a general consensus to give those areas a very wide berth and not risk their lives more than they were already.

With a last distrustful look aimed at the water, he re-adjusted the heavy weight of the shotgun strapped on his right shoulder and walked away from shore, joining the others at their new alcove.

\\\

Finding a place to truly call their main base of operation was surprisingly easy- the mess of destroyed and eroded buildings that titanic wave left behind made for a pretty cushy place if you ignored the smell of seaweed and moist drywall.

They were separated from the main patch of dry land and the chance of encountering any survivors was nearly slim to none- not that he was complaining or anything, less the possibility of meeting any hostile adults and being stripped of what little resources they had. From the wrecked remains of the city they managed to find quite a few useful things, but sadly not enough for ten kids. The food was especially low, the only way was fishing and catching it themselves but they had already established it as a big fat No.

As the evening was slowly closing in, everyone was working to start their nightly routine. The oldest kids were in charge of the fire, which usually entailed watching TC read the partially wet copy of "Little Survivalist" to a very much not interested Trailbreaker and Windcharger. At the mouth of their shelter Soundwave was meticulously arranging their sleeping mats, while Skywarp sorted their blankets. Skids was chosen to stand guard today and soon after Damus would join him to keep watch on the others while they slept.

Main while Bluestreak and the twins where- uhm. Where were they actually?

"Yo, 'Warp! Have you seen the little goblins?" Skids approached the teen, still intent in choosing the softest blanket for himself- aft.

"Ah-what? Uhh, i think they wanted to explore the area but it wasn't my turn babysitting them so..." The other shrugged, returning to his task.

"I swear if they come back with another mutated crab I'm going to lose it."

"Naaw, everyone loved Bob, why do you have to be such a grump?"

"Well, if 'Bob' had the courtesy to try and not pinch me while I was slee-"

A shrill scream broke their conversation.

In a second all of them were at their feet or reaching for their nearest weapon as they watched the small shapes of the twins quickly getting closer. Sideswipe and Sunstreaker were sprinting towards them at full speed, and when they arrived they almost toppled Skids over, while still screaming and shouting frenetically.

Witnessing this, Damus came swiftly forward to try and assess the situation.

"C'mon guys, deep breaths- what's going on?" The oldest tried to sooth.

"BLUE IS DEAD! THAT THING GOT HIM AND IT'S MY FAULT" Sideswipe screeched snatching both of Damus sleeves like a lifeline.

"Whoa- hey 'Sides-"

"IT WAS SUPPOSED TO BE DEAD! But me and Sunny wanted to take a closer look- But turns out it was napping! And we tried to run but Blue fell and he hurt himself and that thing sNATCH HIM UP!! HE'S DEAD AND- AND IT'S MY FAULT!!"

After that the thirteen year old broke into a storm of unconsolable blubbering sobs- they all looked at each other in the eyes: 'Sides and Sunny were known for two things, being unsufferable little shits and that they never cried. Even when sad or scared they were used to put on their brave faces and endure like how they were taught.

So a crying or upset twin meant trouble.

Damus, understanding this quickly shifted his behavior and started barking orders to the others: he, Trailbreaker and Skids would go and find Blue the rest were to remain at the shelter and prepare in case they needed to flee as fast as possible.

With that they braced their weapons and ran into the direction the twins came.

\\\

He felt his heart beating in his throat as they ran towards whatever had attacked the youngest children. He couldn't help but picture small innocent Blue, laying on the shore motionless, a pool of blood beneath him- NO! Blue was okay! He had to be! And they were going to make sure of that. No one was keeping him from getting his littlest brother to safety.

When they reached the shore, the smell of blood didn't greet them like they were all secretly dreading- but something else did.

Something much, much worse.

Bluestreak had always been a talkative little bugger- one of his siblings would sometimes even catch him talking to himself or inanimate objects when none of them were around. He always held conversations all by himself, jumping from topic to topic without catching a breath.

However Blue wasn't really the type of kid to talk to strangers without getting shy and ducking behind one of the others for safety.

Apparently, following little Blue logic- GIANT FISHMEN don't count as strangers.

"...and so I thought it would be cool, you know? but then 'Sides told me that I would get worms but I don't mind worms! They can be cute if you aren't a little baby who gets scared of everything and TC reads to me a lot so I know I won't get worms but I'm still very careful you never know..." The young boy happily ranted away as he sat snugly under the fish- man? argh! The mermaids giant flippers.

The huge being wasn't bother at all by the little morsel chatting away at him- on the contrary, it looked fond of Blue as he let the kid talk. Skids almost pulled the trigger as he looked as the fishman slightly moved his massive head to nuzzle Blue in a show of complete affection. (if Skids strained his ears he could almost hear the soft vibrations the giant fish was producing)

Only then, as he was giggling like mad, did Bluestreak notice them as he lifted his left hand and waved frantically at them.

"HI GUYS!! LOOK WHO I FOUND!! SAY HI TO SIR. PANCAKE!!"

He felt Trailbraker sagging beside him as his weapon almost slipped from his grip.

"...what the actual fuck."

///

pt.2 :P

#transformers #apocalyptic ponyo #shockwave #how do i tag this mmh #local fish gets ambushed by ten homeless kittens #im so sleepy #hope you enjoyed!!

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damlahayal · 7 months ago

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blueiscoool · 9 days ago

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A 2,000-Year-Old Pompeii Garden Springs Back to Life

The Pompeii Archaeological Park has recreated an ancient perfume garden—right down to its antique roses.

A garden once flourished in Pompeii. There, alongside a typical row house, olive trees, roses, and vines blossomed, nourished by hand-carved irrigation channels. The entrance to the site bore the Latin inscription “Cras Credo,” translated to “Credit will be offered tomorrow,” a touch of Pompeiian humor. The Vesuvius eruption in 79 C.E. wiped out the grounds—but preserved hints of its purpose.

Now, a new garden is taking root the same spot. The Pompeii Archaeological Park has just unveiled the restored Garden of Hercules (so named for a statue of the mythical hero uncovered at the site), freshly planted with 1,200 violets, 1,000 ruscus plants, and 800 antique roses, as well as vines and cherry and cotton apple trees. The botanical display is intended to mirror how the garden appeared 2,000 years ago, based on the findings of botanist Wilhelmina Jashemski, who identified pollen, spores, and plant fossils in the area in the 1950s.

“In Pompeii, the natural and archaeological landscape are one,” Gabriel Zuchtriegel, the park’s director, said in a statement. “The green of Pompeii, which was once perceived as a management and maintenance problem, an element almost separate from archaeological structures, is now recognized as an essential component of archaeological areas, as well as of the largest agricultural project of the Park.”

Located on Regio VIII, Insula 2 of the archaeological park, the house joining the garden was uncovered in 1953 before the rest of its grounds was excavated in 1971–72, with further studies carried out in the ’80s. Researchers found that the house was rebuilt following a 62 C.E. earthquake, with its owner buying surrounding land to plant the garden.

In the garden, archaeologists discovered holes in the earth that once held the roots of olive trees, impressions left in the soil by vine trellises, and biological traces of roses. Numerous perfume bottles found on the site indicate the garden was once involved in the commercial production of perfume. Flowers would be pressed with olive oil or grape juice, researchers found, before the concoction was bottled and sold.

Also significant was the discovery of an ancient irrigation system, which allowed gardeners to water the plants through a hole in the wall, without having to enter the site. The water would then flow through channels that wound their way around flower beds, or pool in reservoirs created by earthenware pots, or dolia, situated around the grounds.

“If a gardener needed to give extra water to a plant, they could take it from a dolia,” historian Maurizio Bartolini told the London Times.

Bartolini, who worked on the replanted garden, believes that the garden’s owner might have been experimenting with scents at the site, as opposed to running a full-scale operation. The garden, he noted, measures a mere 98 by 98 feet, while creating 5cc of perfume takes some 2,000 roses.

The irrigation system has been recreated for the Garden of Hercules, its troughs meandering across the new beds. A terracotta statue of the Greek legend has also been reproduced, installed in a small nook next to an outdoor dining space.

“This was a productive place,” Zuchtriegel told the Times of the space, “but also really beautiful.”

The recreated garden is part of Pompeii Archaeological Park’s efforts to shed light on daily life in the ancient Roman city before its destruction. Also currently on view at the site is “Being a Woman in Ancient Pompeii,” an exhibition that delves into the lives, roles, and activities of Pompeiian women.

By Min Chen.

#Pompeii #A 2000-Year-Old Pompeii Garden Springs Back to Life #The Pompeii Archaeological Park #Garden of Hercules #mount vesuvius #ancient artifacts #archaeology #history #history news #ancient history #ancient culture #ancient civilizations #roman history #roman empire #roman art #ancient art

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01zfan · 3 months ago

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through the phone

lawyer!eunseok x sahm!reader | 5.5k words

contains: phone sex, neglecting workaholic husband and lonely housewife

Eunseok took his glasses off in an attempt to clear his mind. Sometimes the absence of clear vision saved him from becoming overstimulated to the point of no return. The numbers for the collection billing turning to a black blur did help ease the incoming stress migraine that was forming on the sides of his head. He squeezed his eyes shut for good measure and put his elbows on the table so he could try and massage out the tension with his fingers.

The end of the quarter always was the worst time. No matter how much extra work Eunseok did to try and alleviate the stress of deadlines there was always so much work to be done.

Sometimes it felt like the people he oversaw were working against him. He knew that he couldn’t blame the new paralegals too much, but some of their support seemed to be a hinderance. Sohee wrote chicken scratch in the margins of notes, Anton misspelled names on client documents, and the two had terrible organization skills. Eunseok spent a majority of the first night rereading the top of documents over and over again, sorting and stapling things that were supposed to be sorted and stapled a long time ago.

His surprise audit and early collection of everyone’s notes was meant to put fear in their hearts. They were supposed to feel guilty for forcing their hardworking boss to do extra work. The point that might’ve been missed isn't worth the headache Eunseok is putting himself through. He just can’t bring himself to threaten with unemployment—it’s a fatal flaw of his easygoing character—so he resorts to more troublesome methods for himself instead. He just prays that Sohee and Anton don’t forget the fear they felt getting their reports taken after Eunseok warned them about the deadline weeks in advance.

Even if this proved a point, Eunseok still lost. He was here in the office by himself past business hours, papers stacked on his desk and numbers on his computer being ran over again and again.

Eunseok hated not being home. He made the impossible rule to keep his work and home life separate, even when he became the manager of the firm and he took on a larger workload than he expected. At most he thought being home being home before midnight was wishful thinking, not actually impossible. But even when he wasn't at work he thought about work, anytime he saw numbers he envisioned a countdown, anytime he saw landscapes he thought of mountains of papers and numbers, and anytime he saw his kids he thought about the younger paralegals he was essentially babysitting everyday.

The end of the quarter brought out the worst in him. The work he was grateful for turned into something he hated. He hated being the leader of a team where everyone looked up to him and he was responsible for the oversight of operations and recruiting new attorneys for the next quarter. He hated that he had all this work to do by the end of the week if he wanted to keep his job up and running.

Eunseok let his forehead fall to the dark mahogany edge of his desk and let out a deep sigh. His large rolling chair leaned forward with him, and Eunseok took a moment to try and recenter himself. The job is awful, but it pays well. He’s doing good work, he's helping people who need help, and he’s due for that bonus and a vacation to Tulum. He has you and a family photo perched on his desk, right by his monitor when he needs an extra reminder of who he’s doing all this for. Eunseok lifts his head to see you smiling back at him and sighs again.

What a terrible fate that to take care of his loved ones he has to be so far away. Locked in his office towards the top of the building like the Rapunzel of Wallstreet. You’re probably Sleeping Beauty, at home by yourself, waiting for your prince to come. He misses his kids, his daughter who was going through a Disney phase and his son who was going through a phase that made him hate all of those movies.

Eunseok looks at the analog clock hanging on the wall. The green digital time tells him his kids are fast asleep, another night he’s missed of reading bedtime stories and kissing his babies on the forehead. He figuratively smacks his palm against his face when he realizes he was supposed to call you a long time ago. Another night of you attempting to wait up for him despite neither of you knowing when he’s coming home.

All of this is ironic, when Eunseok first started this job as a paralegal he was always able to make it home in time for dinner. He always left his cubicle exactly at five, turning off his desktop and grabbing his suitcase before cramming onto the 7 train until he made it to Flushing. Now he drives to work in a fancy Cadillac and being home before dawn seems like a luxury.

He closes his eyes again trying to remember the last time he was sitting at the dinner table with you and his kids. The memory is fading of asking what they were doing in school and getting enthusiastic replies back. He was starting to forget what non-reheated food tasted like and what age his kids were. Sometimes Eunseok was scared that they were forgetting who he was, and that he would just become a man who slept under the same roof as them. He should really find a work-life balance before he becomes the person he swore he never be.

When this quarter comes to a close he’ll really do it. He’ll start forcing the paralegals to do their own work, maybe even the lawyers too. He’ll have a strict work schedule, office hours he abides by with no exceptions. He will do it all once that bonus hits and he hands in these finished reports.

But right now, as New York creeps further into the night he is stuck here. He has one more report to go over and a few logs to verify, but then he’s home before he faces another marathon tomorrow. He just needs something to get him through this last hour, and running his fingers over your framed photo like you've died isn’t enough.

Eunseok puts his glasses back on but still ignores the numbers on the computer to reach for the corded office phone instead. The millions of buttons on the office phone is confusing and he feels like a caveman when he tries to use it. Eunseok always entertained the idea of hiring a personal assistant, but he actually had to hire a receptionist when he unboxed your gift for his office. You picked the phone out, the brown finish to match the desk you also picked out and the red details of the phone matches his lounge chair that you also picked out. He always thought the red was a little too bold, but you always complimented the way Eunseok looked in red. So he dealt with the eyesore and offset the boldness with black furniture. The buttons on the office phone are bothersome, but he knows exactly what to press to reach the house.

When the phone rings Eunseok leans back in his chair. He knows the ringing on the bedside table will wake you up, but still he’s nervous. What if you’re mad at him for waking you up at such a terrible time, what if you’re mad he’s missed another day with his family? Eunseok chews on his nails as he swivels his chair side to side. He takes his hand out of his mouth to flick at the large monstera plant standing tall and healthy next to his desk. He thumbs the large leaf between his fingers, letting his glasses slide down his nose.

Before Eunseok loses hope the call connects. It’s a loud and short click, there’s silence and he’s frozen in his chair waiting for what he’s going to hear on the other end of the line.

“Eunseok?” Your voice is husky from being pulled out of your sleep. He imagines your eyes are still closed and the phone is just resting on the side of your face as you try to wake yourself up. Eunseok leans further into his seat. “Is everything okay?” You ask.

He’s spending another late night in the office instead of sleeping in bed with you. His only companions right now are the green plants you bought for him and the smiling photos of you on his desk. He was running so low on steam that he had to just hear your voice for a little motivation to continue working himself like a dog.

“I’m okay.” He lies. “I just wanted to hear your voice.”

Your tired hum is barely picked up. Eunseok starts picking at the corner of his black mousepad trying to ignore that feeling in the pit of his stomach.

“Well.” Your voice is husky, crackling right into his ear. He can’t stop the shiver up his spine. His hand that doesn’t hold the phone clasps in on itself, until his fingers graze his sweaty palm. “Here’s my voice.” You say.

“What about the kids?” He asks.

“Eunseok.” He can hear you turning in the bed to check the time next to you. His name floats between your two landlines for a moment, and he can hear you sigh. “You know they went to bed hours ago.” You say.

“I know." He tugs at the extension cord of the phone, wrapping the coil around his fingers. He hears the frustrated edge to your voice and how tired you are. He prays you take pity on him and forgive him for calling you this late at night. He hopes you forgive him for using you as a distraction and wasting your night. "Did anything interesting happen to them at school today?” He asks.

Eunseok hears you sigh on the other end of the line. He can hear your hand rubbing over your face and he feels that tension headache forming at his forehead again.

“You should really find the time to ask them yourself, Eunseok.” He draws in a breath and he can hear you moving. “They’re good at adjusting, they’re alot like you. But they feel your absence, you know?” You continue.

He can barely stand to hear that. He doesn’t remember the last time he saw his kids when they weren’t already asleep or being herded out the door to be rushed to school. He has to shake his head when he remembers his own childhood and he has to hold the phone a little tighter to forget it completely.

The fact that you hesitated tells him you’ve thought about this for awhile. He wonders when exactly you noticed your children noticing his empty space at the dinner table. He knows you’ve vouched for him in the past. His son was alot like him but his daughter was like you. She didn’t develop the ability to keep a secret yet, so when Eunseok apologized for falling asleep in the middle of telling her a story she was unfazed. His daughter read the book herself, thumbing to the next page while saying Mommy told us you work alot and we shouldn’t wake you up even if you fall asleep in the middle of your sentence. He didn’t know her vocabulary had gotten so developed, but she was just going through the book to look at the pictures.

Eunseok’s knew you kept your grievances to yourself to not upset the children. If they asked, you told them their father was working hard and hopes that they had a good day at school. You kissed your children an extra time on the forehead for him and only brought up Eunseok’s abscence in the family when he brought it up first. Your empathy hurts Eunseok, because you force him to become a man that has to talk about how he’s feeling.

You never withheld information about your kids, you never rubbed it in that you got to spend more time with them. He doesn’t know how you have so much patience for him, even when he’s so tired coming home he can barely reach out his arm to hold you. You always woke up and buried your head in his chest, bringing him closer and sighing so contently like he never left. The fact that he’s constantly so locked into his work he can barely muster the energy to call pains him.

“I know, I really do.” Eunseok speaks truthfully into the line. He sighs himself, leaning deeper into his chair.

His voice must’ve been desperate enough because he hears you hum again as your sleepy mind tries to recollect how their days went. He can imagine the gears turning in your mind, and he feels another pull at his chest.

“Well your son has that soccer game this weekend. Your daughter’s school play is next week. They’ve been preparing for that like crazy, it’s all either of them talk about.” You answer.

Eunseok remembers seeing you put together your daughters costume for the play, and picking his son up from practice when you had to go to a doctor’s appointment.

He gets all the quick updates throughout your day, ranging from taking the kids to practice to cleaning the house to making dinner to doing practically everything else. He has missed every single practice and rehearsal for his kids, forcing you to take on the role of being the active parent in addition to you living your life. He wouldn’t be able to do what he does here if you weren’t working tirelessly from sunrise to sunset. Times like this is when that all really hits him. Eunseok is taken aback by the fact that you were probably on your feet all day and still have the energy to humor him this late at night. He also realizes that you two have fallen into the roles you told yourselves you'd never fall in to. You swore to be a modern couple, where the husband becomes a stay at home Dad and the wife becomes the CEO.

“Thank you for all that you do.” Eunseok says after a beat of silence.

“I like doing it. Thank you for all you do.” Eunseok can hear you trying to sound clear on the other end of the line. He hears you making an attempt to wake yourself up to be the energizer he needs while you imagine a life where your husband comes home in the evening. “How’s everything going?” You ask.

Eunseok has told you the gist of what’s going on at his job. In the moments when you are both awake when you get ready to start your day and Eunseok reluctantly gets ready for his, you two can occasionally have a conversation. Sometimes it feels like two old friends catching up over a cup of coffee, or estranged lovers when you lean in close to fix his tie.

Over time you’ve picked up how stressful this time of year is for him, and how he has to manage so many people. He tries his best to hide the immense pressure he’s under, but over the years and being able to pick up on his body language he knows you can tell. You let him know you’re there for support in your own little ways. Rubbing out his tense shoulders or fixing his posture when he’s slouched eating reheated dinner. Slipping in tiny notes into his lunchbox. Nursing his dying office plants back to life. Answering phone calls in the middle of the night. You do things for Eunseok that lets him know he’s not alone and that you see the work he does for you and your family. Just thinking about it is enough to get him to blast through the rest of these reports, but it also makes him miss you so much it feels like his heart is about to beat out of his chest and swim across the Hudson to find you.

“It’s alot, but I’m almost done.” He answers.

Silence on the other end of the line. Eunseok pushed his glasses back up his nose and tries to listen for snoring.

“They have you working hard for that corner office.” You say.

Eunseok laughs to himself and realizes he hasn’t done that in God knows how long. Everything has been too serious to him as of late, he’s been so worried and stressed that he’s kept nothing but a straight face. He thinks by the end of this he will have stress lines embedded into his skin.

“I have to atleast put three hours in before they let me roll up the blinds.” He adds.

Now it’s your turn to laugh on the other end of the line. Eunseok can’t stop himself from smiling at your quiet laughter, even when you sigh wistfully directly into his ear.

“That view is to die for, though. You can basically see the whole city from up there.” You say.

Eunseok turns in his chair, making the cord from the office phone strain to follow him. You were right, Eunseok could see the whole city from up here. Even at night the lit up buildings were beautiful, and in the daytime it was so breathtaking it even made his two rowdy kids stop mid cartwheel to press their grubby hands to the glass.

“I still remember when you visited me here.”

Eunseok remembers the feeling of pride swelling in his chest at the sight of his family loving the office he got in his promotion. He smiled at your wide eyes as you asked him if this was really his office now. Ever since then he’s worked extra hard to keep it.

Another beat of silence. Eunseok thinks you’ve really fallen asleep this time.

“Which time?” You ask. “Because I’ve been there a couple times.”

The change in your voice is too obvious, the shuffling on the other end of the line makes Eunseok’s heart drop. He feels anticipation already swelling in his chest.

There was that time you brought the family to see the office for the first after you picked the kids up from school, there was that time you came by for an office party. You drop by atleast once a week to have lunch with Eunseok on his break, or when you forced him to leave to stop him from working too hard.

But there was also that one time you showed up after everyone had left only wearing that long fur coat Eunseok bought you and red stockings. He was sitting in the same chair he was now when you revealed your big surprise to him, you even took the time to tie a bow around your waist. Eunseok has never forgotten about his work as fast as he did then, he’s never done anything as risky as pushing your naked body against the big glass windows of his corner office. You two did less than savory things for the better half of an hour, before Eunseok pulled you into the back of a taxi to finish the job at home. Just thinking about it made him pull at his tie to loosen it around his neck.

“Which time were you talking about, Seok?” You repeat.

You haven’t said his nickname with that type of infliction in your voice in ages. Eunseok feels that churn in his stomach at the thought of you in front of him.

“I was thinking about the first time—”

“The first time I sucked your dick underneath your desk?” You interrupt.

Eunseok starts using his other hand to grip the edges of his office chair. When he looked down at the space that you fit into perfectly he gets lightheaded. The delirium from caffeine and lack of sleep makes Eunseok see you vividly, he can feel the way your hands pressed into his thighs as you did your best to take all of him.

“Or the first time you bent me over it?” You continue.

He can’t stop his dick from pressing against the fabric of his slacks. When he adjusts himself in his office chair he rubs against his clothes in a way that makes him sigh directly into the phone as he sinks lower into the cushion.

“I still remember that time you were on the phone with those clients that were really rude to you—“

“The delivery company from Staten Island?” Eunseok interjects because he’s too excited remembering that time with you. He feels pride swell in your chest when you make a sound of recollection on your end of the line.

“I remember they called you on the phone and I was sitting in your lap. Your voice started to get all shaky when I started grinding on you—“

“I remember.” Eunseok interrupts you again because he can barely stand hearing you repeat it back to him. He still has scratch marks on the lip of his desk where you were holding onto it for stability. He still has the underwear you were wearing that day locked in the bottom drawer of his desk.

“You hung up on them so fast when they started asking you why you were breathing all heavy.” You finish.

Eunseok hums and readjusts in his seat. His sensitive dick rubs against his slacks and he lets out a shaky breath. He slowly lets himself grind against his pants, the slightest bit of friction makes him grip the armrest of his chair.

“Are you alone?” You ask.

Eunseok chuckles dryly at your terribly timed question. You should’ve asked it before you tortured him with memories of you two being together. He lets go of the side of his chair and presses the base of his palm into his straining dick. The force is almost too much, and the fact that he hasn’t touched himself in forever makes everything more intense.

“I’m alone.” Eunseok quickly reaches for the string hat brings the shutters down his windows. “Are you?” He asks.

“Yes I’m alone Seok. I was waiting for you.” You say.

“I’m sorry, baby.” He immediately gives into your taunts, remorse and desperation makes him almost whine for your forgiveness. “I’m here now, though.” He says.

You hum and Eunseok can hear you place the phone on your chest. The speaker of the phone presses to his ear with your heartbeats and he can hear the sound of sheets moving.

He already knows you’re undressing yourself, starting with your bottoms. Eunseok can hear the muffled sound of effort as the sheets rustle some more. He presses the heel of his hand deeper into his crotch, until he can’t fight the urge to grind his hips against his palm.

“What are you wearing?” You ask him quietly.

He continues slowly grinding as he looks down to his feet. His legs are already spread across his carpet, out in front of him for maximum comfort.

“I’m wearing those black suede dress shoes you bought me last year for Christmas.” He says. He clicks the tips of his shoes together three times, maybe you’ll appear in front of him on his desk the same way you’re on the bed.

“They’re comfy right?” You ask desperately.

Hearing the tilt in your voice makes Eunseok sink deeper into his office chair. He moves only his hand so he can fully focus on your question.

“I can be in them all day no problem.” Your shaky breath comes through the phone and Eunseok smiles. He can see the look of relief you get when he praises you. He imagines you’re still trying to take it slow, only applying light pressure to your clit to match his excitement. “Everyone compliments them all the time. I tell everyone my wife got them for me.” He adds.

“I love when you call me that.” You whimper on the other end of the line. “What else? You’re wearing that gray suit I laid out for you this morning right?”

“Yeah baby. But I got a little cold so I put on my black sweater.” He says.

“Take it off for me. Please.” You beg.

It’s been too long. He’s had trouble mustering up the energy to do anything beyond a few pecks on the cheek. At his worst there were times he was so tired he couldn’t get it up, just apologizing profusely while scissoring his fingers into your cunt. There were also times you had to do all the work in bed too, using his body merely as a vessel to get all of your frustrations out.

The begging tone in your voice is different from the times you were demanding him to give you one more, and that you weren’t done with him yet. You already sound like you’re close. But he only blames himself for not touching you in so long. He was unfortunately too busy thinking about how to reprimand his paralegals without being too mean to do things to you. Your tolerance for teasing in bed and your endurance had slimmed down, making you already teeter on the edge before Eunseok could even start with the dirty talk.

But he has to admit he’s proud you haven’t slipped your fingers inside of yourself. The last person on Earth that listens to him; you wait because he hasn’t told you to do it yet.

He feels that pride swell in his chest and it mixes with the intense longing. He listens to your plea, purposefully making extra noise with his belt so you might be able to hear it. Eunseok scoots his office chair across the dark carpet until his legs are under the desk. He lets his dress pants fall to his ankles, and he shivers at the cold air of his office. There’s already a splotch from precum seeping through his briefs, and Eunseok moans when he sees himself twitch. You moan back, helpless and weak as you try to think of what to say next.

“Did you take it off?” You ask.

“Just down to my ankles.” Eunseok folds his waistband just enough for his dick to spring free. It slaps against his stomach. He wishes you could see how pink and angry his tip is and how his dick pulses at the mere thought of you. “Can’t wait.”

“Me neither.” You huff.

Eunseok wraps his hand around his tip, letting the sticky precum coat his palm. When he has enough he slowly thrusts up into his hand, gripping the phone with all of his might.

“You’re already playing with yourself, right?” He asks.

“Yeah.” You whine.

“What are you doing?”

When you answer with a whine again Eunseok has to add a little more bass to his voice. He needs you to stay with him even if he’s miles away. Him rutting into his hands in his office when he should be doing work is barbaric. This goes against everything Eunseok practices, it’s a risk and if he thinks about what he’s doing too much he’ll never finish. He needs the visual of what you’re doing on the other end of the line. You laying on top of the covers with your eyes closed trying to keep your moans quiet is beautiful. The way your body is screaming for more is poetic, like an innate part of you needs him to get off.

“Tell me everything.” He orders lightly.

“I’m on top of the bed because it was getting too hot underneath the covers.” You say.

Eunseok hums in acknowledgment and tightens his hand around the base of his dick. He’s slow and squeezes himself out, trying to match the steady tone you attempt to have in your voice.

“I only took my bottoms off because I’m too impatient.” You continue.

Eunseok disapprovingly clicks his tongue at you as if he’s any better. He’s the one that’s fucking his hand with his pants around his ankles.

“And I’m only touching my clit with two fingers, the way you always do it.”

Your words are high-pitched now. Eunseok can hear you trying so hard to hold on.

“What’s your other hand doing baby?” Eunseok asked.

“Holding the phone.” You sighed.

Eunseok finally let his hand speed up. He had the perfect visual of you now, and he could fill in the gaps of the details you missed. He’s sure you’re squirming on top of the mattress and arching your back when something felt particularly good. Eunseok is locked onto his dick, he watches a glob of spit fall on his shaft before his hand uses it as extra lubrication.

He tries his best to mimic the way you’d pulse and close in around his dick. His hand isn’t warm enough and he can feel spaces in his fingers. Nothing can come close to emulating you or what’s between your legs. It’s futile, it almost makes Eunseok cry into the phone about how much he needs to fuck you in his office again. He tries to find a solution elsewhere, if he can’t see you or feel it maybe he can hear it.

“Put her on the phone.” Eunseok tugs at himself again and his back arches from the chair. “I wanna hear her.” He huffs.

Eunseok can hear your quick okay then the sound of the phone pulling away from your breathy moans. He presses the phone as deep as he can to his ear, as he imagines your current position. Legs bent with one hand on your clit while the other brings the phone between your legs. Eunseok holds his breath at how shameless and compromised you probably look just to follow his orders.

Then it breaks through. The lewd wet sound of your fingers slinking down to tease your entrance. His mouth waters at the thought of you coating your fingers, purposefully moving a little faster and rougher so the sound is more prominent. You just do so much just for his benefit, and all he has to do is work for you. You are too giving to Eunseok’s take, it makes him feel like a terrible husband but also lights a fire so deep in his stomach that his hand picks up the speed.

“Did you hear it?” You sound like you’ve run a mile when you pant into the phone.

Eunseok nods, as if you’re right in front of him before he releases his bottom lip from his teeth.

“I heard it.” Eunseok feels his throat go dry and he’s swear he can taste you. “You’re so wet.” He whispers.

“I am.” Your voice trembles on the other side of the line, the same way you always did when he would sink into you. “My fingers are just sliding in and out.”

The visual description and astonishment in your voice makes Eunseok rut into his hand. He does it so abruptly the things shake on his desk and he almost pitches forward to really focus on fucking his hand. He fights everything in him to remain sitting upright, cursing directly into the phone through clenched teeth.

”Fuck.”

“Can I hear you, too?” Your question is pushed out when you slide your fingers back in.

Lust makes your question sound like an order, and Eunseok is humming yes baby into the receiver when the pulls his phone from his face.

Eunseok woke his computer screen up by his sudden movements. He averts his eyes from the numbers to look down underneath his desk. The sight is dirty. If he told himself as an intern he’d be in a fancy corner office jerking his dick off extra loud so his wife could hear it through the phone he would’ve had a heart attack from the shock. Quiet and professional Eunseok would never do such a thing. But now he moves his hand a little faster for your benefit, biting his lip so hard he thinks he might draw blood.

He keeps going, getting lost in the debauched circumstances of it all. He feels like a caveman chasing after something so primal while pretending like you’re right there. If he could have his way he’d look up from his dick and see you laid out on his desk the same way you were on the bed, hand between your legs while you looked directly at him.

Eunseok brought the phone back up to his ear, swallowing deep because it felt like his tie was choking him.

“Could you hear it, baby?” He asked.

“I heard it.” Eunseok can hear you squirming on top of the sheets. You always needed his hand planted on your waist to stop you from moving so much. “She misses you.” You finally stutter over the line.

When Eunseok puts his phone between his shoulder and chin he can smell you. Your hand lotion still lingers on his clothes from when you smoothed his dress shirt this morning. When he closes his eyes he can see you teetering around his office, holding up the dying monstera leaves and frowning at their droop.

“I miss you.” Eunseok says it clearly, fucking into his hand faster than before.

“I miss you too.” He knows you’re fingers have sped up by the way your voice has gotten pathetic and quiet. “I haven’t seen you in so long.” You say.

Even though you technically saw him this morning, he understands completely what you mean. You two haven’t seen eachother in weeks. Eunseok hasn’t had enough time to do something like kissing your shoulder or pulling you close throughout the day. You’re too sweet to complain about it. Even now when you should be mad you only sound weak and apologetic, like you’re the neglecting workaholic husband and he’s the lonely housewife.

“I know baby, I’ll make it up to you.” He has to grip the middle of the phone tight to keep his voice even. ”You’re close though, right?” Eunseok asks.

His steady tone only makes you fall deeper. One of your legs slides out from underneath you, your other digs into the mattress. You went back to rubbing your clit, the absence of Eunseok’s fingers inside of you makes it impossible to cum from just penetration. Rubbing tight circles on your swollen bud gets the job done, because within seconds you’re fighting your thighs from closing tight around your fidgeting hand.

“Keep your legs spread.” Eunseok grunts into the phone. “Don’t stop either.”

It’s like he’s here in the room with you, right beside you on the bed. Even though you say nothing you’re sure he can hear and see it all, that he’s already painted himself an accurate picture of yourself.

“Are you close?” You ask.

Eunseok looks down again. He’s almost in pain from the impeding orgasm. He can feel his spit-slicked veins bump against his hand, and his sensitive tip still leaks precum. He can’t stop himself from twitching in his hand, and he can feel the coil in his stomach tightening.

“So close.” Eunseok seethes behind his teeth. “I’m so close.” He continues.

He has to hold his phone up with his shoulder to free his other hand. He quickly reaches across his desk, making sure to not hit anything in the process of grabbing tissues. He pulls them out in a frenzy, readjusting the phone to keep it in place. He needs to hear your muffled sounds clearly as he continues tugging on himself.

He’s quick with preparing the tissues and faster with his other hand. He wonders if the lewd sound filters through the phone the same way it does in his spacious office. Part of him wants to pry, to ask in a low voice if you know how bad he wishes his hand was yours. He hopes you know he’s imagining you in the empty space underneath his desk. Eunseok takes mercy because he assumes you’re too busy to notice, because you’re practically crying while you beg Eunseok to cum first.

He’s methodical with it. His neck is bent at an odd angle to keep the phone up but he ignores the pain as he balls up the tissues preemptively. He leans back in his cozy office chair, closing his eyes to get lost in your voice.

“I already came.” You moan.

“Good.” Eunseok coos at you before you can apologize for indulging in something you so clearly needed. He can’t stand the idea of you apologizing almost as much as he can’t stand that he wasn’t the one who did it for you.

He stills his hand and begins thrusting his hips upwards through his fist. He tightens it even more until there’s a struggle, until he has to grunt from the effort to get his tip to poke out from the top. He imagines your tongue laving his angry tip and your hands rubbing over his flexed stomach. “Just keep talking to me. I’m almost there.” He says.

“Eunseokie.” Eunseok hums loudly to your whimper, and he squeezes his eyes tight. He is losing his resolve with each passing second. He is panting into the phone by the time you speak again. “Is the view nice?” You ask.

He screws his eyes shut tighter. His loudest moan rips through his office as he leans back into his seat.

“It’s beautiful baby.” Eunseok says quietly.

“I wanna see it again soon.” You say. “There’s so many things we haven’t done in there yet.”

Eunseok doesn’t get the chance to tell you that he’ll get an apartment closer to the office because he thrusts into his hand one final time. His full body relaxes into his office chair and he works his hand one more time before he feels it. Relief spreading across his body and warm cum spurting from his tip. It’s a dribble at first, sliding down Eunseok’s fist and getting between his fingers. Then it’s a mess, getting on his thighs and his desk. He’s too strung out to use the tissues clutched in his hand, he has no choice but to ride it out completely. Your voice on the other end of the line doesn’t help. You’re a cooing mess, your bothered voice talks him through the orgasm that wracks through his body.

“I can hear you.” You tell him.

“I swear I can feel you.” He whimpers.

“I’m there. And you’ll be home soon, too.” You assure.

Another wave of pleasure comes through him. Eunseok’s toes crack in his dress shoes and his glasses are all the way down to the tip of his nose when he opens his eyes again. He has partial vision, everything is blurred and wobbling when his thighs shake.

“Shit.” He feels the droplets of cum on his thigh cool and he sees the mess he was trying to prevent. He lets his dick go and it helplessly flops to his thigh. Still everything about him is sensitive, he shivers when he gently presses the crumbled tissues to his sensitive inner thigh. “Fuck.” He curses.

“Did you make a mess?” You ask on the other end of the line.

Eunseok looks at his wet hand. He uses the tissues to dab off the wet trail marks and finishes cleaning up by wiping his palm across his black sweater. He grimaces at the thought of defiling his cashmere, but he needs a free hand to hold the phone to his other ear.

“A little bit.” His voice is weak and hoarse as he talks.

You hum. He knows you’re sleepy again, and for a moment he selfishly wants to rile you up again just so you can offer to take a cab to come clean him up. But Eunseok has kept you from your sleep long enough, and he also feels exhausted. He’s been at this desk looking at numbers all day and just came so hard it made his whole body shake. He thinks he could sleep for a week straight if given the chance.

“Can the rest of your work wait until tomorrow?” You yawn.

Eunseok pulls the bottom of the phone away from his mouth to yawn. His balled fist in front of his mouth forces him to smell himself and he grimaces again. He can tell that he won’t be able to make sense of these numbers and reports for the rest of the night. He reaches underneath his desk to pull his slacks back up his legs.

“It can.” He answers.

“Okay. I’ll wait up for you.” You say.

He can hear the smile in your voice. Eunseok tells you he loves you a million times before he hangs up the phone.

#01zfan: eunseok #eunseok smut #riize smut

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payblogs · 10 months ago

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nopanamaman · 1 year ago

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How does the stalker business work?

Loredump. October 2023

A web of alliances, insiders, clients, and territorial disputes - this is what forms the stalker business, a domain that’s as illegal as it is profitable.

Today, we’ll delve into the basic origins and inner workings of this peculiar profession. Let’s find out how these glorified marauders operate!

How did the stalker business develop?

The stalker business emerged almost as soon as the Zone itself was born. But, much like every structure based around the Zone itself, it became more refined - and more corrupt - as years went on.

What started as individuals travelling the Zone completely on their own accord grew into a network of organised groups with their own informants, clientele and designated territories. Yet when it looked like major alliances had become fully solidified with a couple of large groups operating across vast stretches of the Zone, the development of the internet put a dent in the system.

Yura: Do I really need to know the territorial policies of 70s factions Sergei: YES Olya: No.

As many information-gathering and order-related operations moved online, doing business in smaller groups became a more viable option. Nowadays, the majority choose to operate in gangs of up to 30 people.

Since the business has grown more decentralised and, in a way, accessible, the competition within it has increased dramatically. Territories are less clearly defined and run-ins with members of rivalling gangs are commonplace. When it comes to the human factor, it’s more dangerous than it ever was.

How are the little groups organised?

Modern stalker groups are typically formed around somebody who has direct connections to potential clients or those able to nicely aggregate information about the Zone’s current state. So any group needs at least one product reseller and one strategic leader, which can sometimes be the same person.

The latter is true for Sergei's group, for instance.

He is responsible for processing orders, evaluating the delivered artefacts, reselling them, gathering up to date information about the Zone’s landscape and traffic, and helping the available stalkers plan their trips accordingly. It’s a heavy workload, so having just one person performing all of those tasks wouldn’t be manageable on a larger scale.

Obviously enough, smaller groups are more reliant on the quality of their individual members, even more so when they have a specific role to fill. If we use known members of Sergei’s group as examples, they fit pretty neatly into the following roles:

Radar (радар). Formerly fulfilled by Kolya – a stalker with an outstanding sense for anomalies. Irreplaceable for navigating the more treacherous parts of the Zone. Yura was going to inherit that role.

Doctor (доктор). Self-explanatory. While it’s recommended that all stalkers undergo some form of first aid training, it never hurts to have someone with a deeper knowledge of medicine on the team. This role was filled by Nikita.

Insider (свояк). As the name suggests, it’s a person that helps in various aspects of stalker work by providing client contacts, guard post information, info about other gangs’ operations, and so on depending on their position. Insiders don’t usually take part in actual trips or even work with specific stalker groups, but Olya is built different.

Ram (таран). The muscle of the group. You don’t need to be especially physically fit to navigate the Zone,but when things become dire, it absolutely helps. This was Sergei’s role when he still travelled the Zone.

These are arbitrary designations and many don’t fit into one particular role. That said, creating a balanced group of 3 is easier when there’s a fair understanding of each person’s strengths.

Yura: Oh, kinda like video game classes! Sanya: Yeah, I guess. Yura: So who would I be? Sanya: Support.

What does the typical work cycle look like?

An order is either placed on an online marketplace or is mailed directly to a trusted trader. The trader then passes the information to the strategist, who analyses the current Zone layout, as well as the latest available information about the placements of various artefacts and anomalies.

The strategist then determines the optimal routes to retrieving the ordered goods. Some use special software to aid in the process. The service price is then estimated based on the difficulty of retrieval and transportation. If the initial price suggested in the order is lower than this estimate, price negotiations will ensue.

Once the minimal price is agreed on, the actual planning starts. A group of three is gathered from the pool of available stalkers. They are all informed about the mission specifics and the route they need to travel - this is when the team can discuss and make adjustments to the plan.

Nikita: No, no, this route will be way too stressful for Olyechka. Perhaps, she should sit this one out? Olya: If we don't make this route shorter, Nikita won't come back, I'm afraid. Nikita: Well, aren't you a treat. Anyways, Serozha, my leg has been getting worse and I won't make this climb. Olya: Perhaps, you should sit this one out.

After the artefacts are delivered to the trader, their quality is evaluated. Stalkers tend to pick up whatever valuables they find on the way, which means extra cash for them and more work for the trader.

Once the evaluation is complete, stalkers are paid off and the products are resold at a significantly higher price. The artefacts that were specifically ordered are exchanged for the agreed upon amount of money and the extra stuff is peddled to other high-paying customers.

Since selling artefacts is a risky and complicated endeavour in itself, most stalkers are content with the paychecks they get from their trader.

Finally, when everything is done, stalkers may anonymously share information about their trip to the online community. But considering the competitive nature of the business, not everyone is willing to help out their fellow colleagues – or really, not everyone wants to talk about the things they’ve seen.

What is the online stalker community like?

As was already mentioned, the internet has majorly changed how stalkers went about receiving orders and information about the Zone. It has become an important channel for communication and securing deals.

Firstly, all of the relevant platforms are on the deep web. Secondly, all of them are invite-only.

The three major platforms are:

Doska (literally “the board” as in bulletin board)

A marketplace where orders are placed and taken up by anyone interested, as well as an auction platform for selling off artefacts. Widely used by groups and stalkers who have not yet gained established clients.

Krematorii (crematorium)

A closed forum. Discussions, rumours, shitposting.

10K Crematorium karma

14KKM (as in 14 thousand kilometers, the approximate area of the Zone)

A dynamically updated map of the Zone. User-managed, hence chaotic and unreliable.

Users can mark locations of witnessed anomalies and artefact positions, which others can confirm or downvote. A marking needs to be confirmed by at least 4 people before it is put down and is removed if at least 4 people downvote it. All markings can be commented on.

Most of the community tries to maintain it more or less accurately for the sake of their own future missions, but there are malefactors that will add false markers to it. Should be taken with a huge grain of salt.

Of course, it bears mentioning that there are plenty of fake online communities on the surface web. Those are rife with people roleplaying as stalkers, scammers, kids, and just shitposters. No actual stalker uses those for business.

Rules regarding the Zone

Though the information side of things has changed a lot, the core methodology of travelling the Zone itself remained the same. Sets of universal rules became solidified over the years, which can be described as a mixture of operational protocols and esoteric beliefs.

What are the basic operational protocols?

Basic operational protocols outline best practices for dealing with simple anomalies, traversing the Zone, bypassing guard posts, and handling difficult situations (mercy kills, painless death, encountering other stalkers).

Some common recommendations include:

use projectiles (usually bolts with pieces of cloth attached for visibility) to check for gravitational anomalies;

operate in groups of three - two do the job, the third one watches on;

do not consume any food or drinks you find;

avoid unnatural shadows;

do not stay at the Hollow for over 20 minutes (your body will start to decay);

do not approach the Town (your body will permanently distort);

do not handle fizzy clay without rubber gloves (will leave you debilitated or addicted to the substance);

always send the draisine back;

don't photograph ghosts;

etc.

They are objective results of many years of trial and error. Going against them is likely to end in death or injury regardless of your personal qualities. In other words, there is little dispute over the validity of these rules. The same cannot be set for the second ruleset.

What are stalker beliefs?

The Zone favours the miserable. The desperate, the broken, the lonely. The Zone favours ones that are willing to give up their whole being to her, to completely entrust themselves to her whims. She rewards dejection.

These are common truths to some and hogwash to others. There is no solid proof for any of these claims - how can there be? However, there is no happy stalker, and there is no living stalker without a scar. To many, that's evidence enough.

On top of that, there are some group-specific philosophies. They include:

the Zone is a holy place that needs to be revered;

the Zone is an ulcer of the world that needs to be cleansed;

the Zone is the new stage of Earth’s evolution;

the Zone is divine punishment;

the Zone is a point of contact with a parallel universe;

and many others.

These philosophies dictate how people go about their activities in the Zone in a more ritualistic sense. It’s hard to devise whether or not those little rituals have any effect that isn’t purely psychological.

There is a good number of people that hold a purely cynical view of the Zone. But whether they admit it or not, everyone gradually develops a sense of fear and reverence for it. How they compartmentalise it is a different question.

Conclusion

I could write more about the topic, but as of now, I think this general outline should suffice. The stalker business is a multifaceted enterprise to say the least, so hopefully this article has shed the light on its most essential aspects.

Perhaps, there will one day be a more in-depth follow-up! Who knows. As we continue to unveil the enigmatic layers of the Zone, only time will reveal the full extent of its mysteries... And the engimatic layers of shitty Stalker forums, I guess.

#parties are for losers #loredump #deepest lore #sergei #olya #yura #nikita #sanya #myart #scraps #the mill

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so-i-did-this-thing · 3 months ago

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I hope you dont mind me asking, what kind if stuff do you do for a job?

Do you work in a safe environment for trans people?

I work in civic technology, which is the concept of using tech to make the government kinder and more efficient for the citizens it serves. I have been a Service Designer, Product Owner, and Product Manager. These are all "real" jobs you can Google to learn more about.

Right now, I do this at the US federal level. (I am not a fed, but I work for them as a contractor.) While my company is generally safe & affirming, because of the current regime, I am doubtful I will ever get a "public trust clearance" again (this is not security clearance, but it is the govt's way to decide if you are trustworthy/honorable enough to serve) due to being trans. I can NOT be stealth here, due to all the background checks and interviewing that goes on (your family and friends get calls).

So, once my current gig with the agency I'm assigned to expires, I am likely done with fed stuff. It is clear my company, as affirming as they are internally, will not push back if I mysteriously get denied clearance. Or retain me if my presence as key personnel on a contract puts winning it at risk. I literally lectured my CEO about my risk landscape the other week. 🙃

I previously came from the municipal level (I worked for a well-known city) and again, everyone was very affirming and respectful. I involved trans people in my research and did a lot of good work, from improving emergency operations to launching food pantry home delivery, to getting potholes filled faster. I even got a multi-stall gender-neutral bathroom installed at City Hall, in the state of Florida, no less (alas, it had to be closed down when the state governor went on his transphobic rampage, and luckily I had already left by then).

Civic tech is interesting and fulfilling work, but you need a strong personality to cut through bullshit -- I frequently would be at odds with fire chiefs, commissioners, and crusty old accountants and had to either persuade or bully them to affect any sort of progress. Luckily, folks tell me I am both a charismatic and intimidating man. 😅

Again, it was impossible to truly be stealth because of background checks. When I had to take a polygraph, I was asked (by an ex-CIA guy to boot) if anything about me would "embarass" the city. I said I was trans and that my credit score (at the time) was in the shitter. The dude said, "as long as you're working on the latter, you're fine, and no one gives a crap about the former."

I did not have to be publicly trans, but I chose to. I even let the city do a TDOV feature on me on social media, which was a bit scary because that put a target on my back, even in 2019.

Did I still get the stink eye from some employees? Yup. I even had to sic HR on one. But overall, your average civil servant (maybe not federal anymore) tends to lean left, and civic tech itself is a very, VERY queer-friendly field. (Again, not so much federal anymore. I would suggest folks interested here stick to state & municipal work.)

I hope that helps. If you are interested in tech, as long as you are in fields where the purpose is *helping* people, you are bound to find a lot of trans people and allies.

#chit chat #I had considered once interviewing for the agency DOGE took over and obliterated #USDS used to be so queer folks and killing it first was absolutely meant to send a message to queer technologists

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elodieunderglass · 1 month ago

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Are there any trans characters in the Killieverse? Obviously, there’s a good selection of queer ones, including the titular jockey, but, just off the top of my head, I can’t think of any trans ones.

There’s a little bit of background activity -

Derek has a trans mother. His lesbian mothers are his biological parents, and she came out in his childhood. He inherited early baldness from her, but she decided to do a whole shaven-head butch thing with it. This is part of the general chillness of Derek’s mental landscape. (So he went bald early. So did his mom. It’s whatever.)

Miles is a bit GNC, in a baby Gen Alpha way. I think a lot of that cohort of kids are going to have their Own Thing about it.

BUT

Apologies for the quantum fucking nature of this response

in the quantum state we operate in, which is regrettably defined by the fact that I didn’t think about writing a book until five minutes ago, nobody major to the plot is currently trans.

However, this is the plan.

Throw Your Heart Over - a messed-up family falls apart. Lots of horses run in circles. Being very brave about it, a guy recovers his twin. (Probably about 10 chapters. Will require paid Irish, racetrack and horse behaviour accuracy readers, to be paid up-front. Was thinking of writing it and selling it to try to recover cost of paying various helpers.)

The Straight and Narrow - a messed-up guy flails around. Has narrowboats in it. (Will require Irish and Scottish dialogue readers, but much less work for them, and should be be cheap enough to produce. Thus, while possibly less interesting to the audience that wants to see Killie making a tit of himself, it could generate enough money to pay in advance for…)

Run for the Roses (working title) - idiot twins meet nerds while becoming Embroiled in situations. Killie gets taken out back and beaten up by the twin wolves of his demisexuality and bisexuality, whom he’s managed to avoid this far, but to his own disgust, he has to not only meet but master them, because he unfortunately met them at the same time as The Best Human In the World and he’s in love. (Will require Jewish accuracy reader, Irish dialogue reader and some form of RPG-knowing person.)

The Blood Always Comes Through (Heirs Above the Ground) - the horse dynasty has to deal with itself eventually, including such exciting set pieces as meeting Derek’s parents, forcibly rebooting Charlie’s horsegirl powers, Miles (could unpack to be a Whole Fucking Thing), several horse dynasty fights and showdowns, What The Hell That Murder Bill Did Was About, Killie’s gay wedding, and possibly a trans character. (Absolute carnage. Will need every sort of sensitivity and accuracy reader on the books. May never get to this one. Could be two books tbh.)

^^ I’d like to have a trans character come out during that one!! but I’d like it to be a bit of a surprise.

So unfortunately the answer is NO. But WATCH OUT.

If a SPECIFIC SERIES OF EVENTS unfurls to the point where I can produce four books, with ideally paying for the help needed for the next, there IS a trans named character.

So like, yes but also no.

But in a way that hopefully makes sense. There aren’t many reveals I’m specifically protecting but I feel like I gotta leave something worth paying money for (since I need the money for the next team of editors.)

And of course we can all headcanon whatever at any time. I think the merfolk in the mermaid AU should all be intersex on a level we can’t even comprehend, while still referring to themselves as the default/normal humans, and with everything happening on land having a qualifier (Air Gulls, Air Plants, Land Meat.) and the merfolk should, like, refer to land humans having things like Land Penises. This is very funny to me

#throw your heart over #this is actually a good outline #and a horrifying amount of work. oh no.

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popp1n · 1 month ago

Text

GHOSTING THE GOVERNMENT

|masterpost| ao3

Chap 1: A Not-so-Ghostly Getaway

Pt 4

The faded green exit sign for the State Park loomed ahead, weathered decals indicating only a couple miles drive to a dusty salvation. Jazz, her hands slightly more relaxed and confident on the steering wheel, executed a smooth, almost imperceptible turn off the interstate. The car, though having seen better days, responded obediently, carrying its cargo of empty chip bags and discarded soda cans with hardly a rattle.

“About time,” Tucker grumbled from the passenger seat, stretching his arms over his head. “My eyes are starting to blur from all these interstate signs.”

In the back, Danny, who just hours before was a restless whirlwind of nervous anticipation, was slumped against the window, his usually vibrant blue-green eyes dull and darting nervously. His leg bounced a frantic, incessant rhythm against the floorboard. Sam, perched behind him, leaned forward, her usually calm demeanor tinged with a quiet excitement. “It’s perfect, though, isn’t it? Miles of open space. No one for miles. We can really… disappear. Or, well, we'll come one step closer."

Jazz spared a glance to the front passenger seat, catching Danny’s haunted, twitching reflection. “We need to make this car look like it’s been through a natural disaster. Something that screams ‘we just went off-roading for fun,’ not ‘we’re trying to lose a tail.’” She navigated the initial paved road, which quickly dissolved into a pockmarked gravel track, kicking up a thick plume of reddish dust. “The idea is to get it dirty enough to legitimately explain why the tracker might stop working after a car wash. We want to destroy the tracker, not the Corolla itself.”

“Operation: Dirtbag Corolla is a go,” Tucker announced, already eyeing the terrain. “I’m thinking a good deep rut to really cake the undercarriage, maybe some mud flung onto the windshield for that authentic ‘I was just driving through a prairie’ look. Something that says ‘adventurous teens on a detour, definitely not avoiding government surveillance.’”

Sam, however, was already in her element. As the car lumbered deeper into the park, the landscape shifted from forests to a majestic, eroded wonderland of sheer cliffs and splashing waterfalls. She leaned out the window, breathing deeply. “I can feel it, can’t you? The quiet. The sheer… ancientness of it all.” Her fingers trailed through the dust on the window frame. There was something about Sam; a natural empathy, a connection to the world around her that bordered on the mystical. Ever since Overgrowth hijacked her body several years ago now, she seemed to draw comfort from the raw, untamed earth.

They found a secluded campsite just a scant few hours before the sun began its dramatic ascent, painting the sky in lush pinks and purples to chase away the midnight blues. The Corolla, now a magnificent monument to vehicular abuse, was parked off to the side, caked in so much mud it looked like it had wrestled a badger. Tucker, with his meticulous eye for detail, had even managed to ensure that the dirt was strategically placed for maximum impact at the car wash, without risking any actual damage to the vehicle. He immediately set to work, pulling out a device to evaluate the tracker.

While Tucker was busy running diagnostics, and Sam was meticulously arranging rocks around their small campfire, Danny found himself drawn away from the familiar hum of their anxieties. He wandered a short distance from the flickering light, drawn by the deep indigo of the sky, his hands shoved deep into his pockets, his shoulders hunched.

He lay flat on his back on a surprisingly soft patch of grass, the coolness seeping through his worn t-shirt. Above him, the velvet blackness of the night was slowly, gloriously, coming more into focus as he gazed upon it. First, faint pinpricks of light, then more, and more, until the entire dome of the sky was a glittering tapestry of stars, stretching from horizon to horizon. It wasn’t just stars; it was the Milky Way, a shimmering river of cosmic dust and light, starkly visible without the oppressive glow of city lights.

Danny had seen stars before, of course, but never like this. In Amity Park, they were a distant, filtered memory obfuscated by an increasing number of street lights. Here, they felt close enough to touch, an almost overwhelming presence. But even this couldn't entirely quell the frantic beat of his heart. The knot of fear in his stomach, tight and cold, loosened a smidge. The constant hum of suspicion, the whispers of “unidentified ecto-energy signatures” and “unexplained phenomena,” seemed to recede, dwarfed by the sheer immensity above, but the feeling of being watched, of being hunted, still prickled at the back of his neck.

He felt a soft thud beside him and turned his head to see Jazz settling down, mimicking his position. Her usually furrowed brow, a permanent fixture of her academic intensity, was smoother tonight, softened by the starlight.

“It’s incredible, isn’t it?” Jazz murmured, her voice a hushed whisper, as if afraid to disturb the profound silence.

Danny nodded, unable to articulate the depth of his feelings, still feeling a tremor deep inside. “It’s… huge. And we’re… not.” He paused, searching for the right words, his gaze flitting nervously from star to star. “These past couple months, I felt like… like I was shrinking. Like the world was closing in. And then we started driving, and it was still closing in, but now… now it feels like it’s opening up… but what if it’s a trap?”

Jazz reached out, her fingers gently brushing his. “That’s the beauty of it, Danny. The universe doesn’t care about our petty squabbles, our human anxieties. It just is. And seeing that, it puts things into perspective.” She shifted slightly, propping herself up on an elbow, looking at him. “You’ve been carrying so much, little brother. Too much. But out here, under all this… it’s a reminder that there’s something bigger than all of us. And that means there’s something bigger than them, too. They’re just people, Danny. Even with all their resources, they’re still just people.”

He let out a shaky breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. “I thought… I thought we’d never feel free again. Not really free. It felt like they were closing in, like they were going to find me out, no matter what. Like it was only a matter of time.” He looked back up at the stars, a newfound clarity struggling to emerge in his gaze. “But looking at this… it’s like a promise. That we’re getting closer. Just like those stars are so far away, but you can still see them. And you know they’re real.”

Jazz’s eyes, usually so analytical, held a rare warmth. “We’re almost there, aren’t we, Danny?” she said, her voice barely above a whisper. “Almost free.”

A sense of profound comfort, though still tinged with a persistent hum of anxiety, settled over him, a feeling he hadn’t experienced since before his life had been turned upside down. The chill night air, the soft rustle of the long grass, the vast, comforting blanket of stars overhead – it all coalesced into a single, overwhelming sensation of fragile hope.

“Yeah, Jazz,” Danny said, a genuine smile finally touching his lips, though his leg still jiggled a nervous tremor. “We’re almost there.”

#ghosting the government #dcxdp #dc x dp #dpxdc #dp x dc #danny fenton #danny phantom #fanfic #i wasnt in the mood to research state parks along the theoretical route they're taking #take all nature scenery descriptions with a grain of salt #potential minfic of them lobbing mud at this poor car #i dont care who writes it

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