#macro extensions

[sineout]

In addition, that 260mm of extension, even if it worked, would only net 5.2x magnification with the lens he was using (so a total of 6.2:1, as magnification from extensions is additives with the lenses native magnification).

It's possible to get a similar level of magnification with a 300mm lens mounted to the camera and a 50mm lens reverse mounted in front of it. It's also possible to get actual images with this configuration, unlike with the excessive extensions.

Let's talk about macro extension tubes.

I just saw this video recommended to me.

This has so many views and it is so bad.

This is not how macro extension tubes work.

At all.

You can't just keep adding more of them to get more macro. All you are doing is reducing the amount of light reaching the sensor and making it harder to take your photo.

All lenses have a minimum focusing distance (A) and a minimum working distance (B).

The minimum focus distance is measured from the sensor. This is the absolute closest distance where you can attain sharp focus on a subject. This is usually the spec the camera manufacturer gives you, but it isn't very useful because it doesn't take the length of the lens into consideration.

Minimum working distance is how close the end of your lens is to your subject. You figure this out by adding the flange distance (google it for your camera), and then add the length of your lens, and then subtract that from the minimum focus distance.

Whatever is leftover is how close you can get to stuff.

In this example, this is as close as the lens can get to the flower before it can no longer achieve sharp focus. If you get any closer, it will be blurry.

If you have a short working distance, this can be problematic for macro work. Your lens could create a shadow on your subject. You might be so close that you disturb the insects you are trying to shoot. You risk scratching your lens if you are shooting near rocks or other scratchy objects. So finding a macro lens with a decent working distance is always optimal. You can back off from your subject and get a lot of light in there and not have to worry so much about disturbing critters.

But if you don't have a macro lens, you can increase the magnification of any lens by adding extension tubes. It is a low cost way to get into macro photography, but it isn't a perfect solution.

Before I can tell you what macro extension tubes do, let's quickly talk about what macro actually is.

Macro magnification is usually measured starting at 1:1 reproduction or 1x. (Some manufacturers start at 0.5x or 1:2 reproduction, but most photographers don't actually consider that macro. So watch out for that in lens specs.) 1x magnification means the thing you are shooting will appear on the sensor the same size as in real life.

So if a lens has a 0.25x magnification, an object will only take up 25% of the image sensor. (The rectangle on the right side.)

But at 1x magnification, it will be reproduced exactly as it is in real life on the sensor.

If you have a 2x lens or 2:1, it would appear twice as big as the image sensor.

So what does an extension tube do?

Extension tubes are just spacers that shorten your minimum focus distance. They take the red arrows and change them to the yellow.

They push your lens farther from the sensor and allow you to get closer to your subject.

This causes an increase in magnification.

Think about how a magnifying glass works. You pull it closer to you so that everything gets bigger in the lens. That's essentially all the tubes are doing.

The first downside to extension tubes is they reduce the amount of light by quite a bit. The inverse square law says the farther light travels, the lower the intensity. So the more tubes you add, the more light you have to add to the scene. Or you have to do a really long exposure on a tripod.

But the decrease in working distance is a problem as well. You may find you have to put the front of the lens a few millimeters away from your subject to get a meaningful increase in magnification. And because you can't phase into objects, there is a limit to how many extension tubes you can use to affect magnification.

At some point, you are actually placing the working distance *behind* the front of the lens. After this point you can no longer increase the magnification. You're just making your lens focus farther away.

You could keep adding more and more extension tubes, but it would not allow you to get any closer to your subject.

If you put 20 of them on, you are just doing this...

At some point, you'll have to violate the laws of physics.

The lens used in the video is already a macro lens capable of 1:1 reproduction.

This lens has a minimum focus distance of 160mm. But it has a minimum working distance of only 43mm (1.7").

Extension tubes are measured in millimeters. The ones in the video come in 16mm and 10mm sizes. He alternated them.

So in order to reduce the working distance to the point a subject would nearly be touching the front of the lens, he could put on a maximum of 3 tubes.

The red lines below show how much each tube would reduce the working distance.

A 10mm, a 16mm, and a 10mm would reduce the working distance by 36mm—leaving him about 7mm of space in front of his lens to achieve focus.

He could add another 10mm tube if he didn't mind his subject basically touching the lens, but it is very difficult to get that close in a real world scenario and achieve a decent result.

If he put on 20 tubes, that would reduce the working distance by 260mm. And since there is only 43mm in front of the lens to work with, he is overshooting the minimum possible working distance by 217mm or about 8.5 inches.

He's basically doing this...

He overshot by about 17 tubes—worth about $400. Though he probably made that money back in views. So I guess it was worth it.

But it is really bad information and may cause people to buy a ton of tubes expecting to get super macro results.

The only real way to significantly increase magnification is to buy a lens specifically designed for it. They make macro lenses up to 5x and after that you are looking at microscope objectives.

With extension tubes you might be able to get a non-macro lens to achieve close to 1x or better, but there is no low cost way to get much beyond that.

To review...

Figure out your minimum working distance. If google fails to give you the answer, you can just get a tape measure and figure it out on your own.

Let's say that the working distance is 50mm.

That means you can add up to 50mm of extension tubes to get a bump in magnification. (Though that would be touching the lens, so I'd probably do 30 or 40mm of tubes maximum.)

Adding more tubes beyond 50mm will not increase your magnification.

It will just make your camera look like it is compensating for something.

[scribeartistjo-tan]

WARNING: A shit ton of tiny baby spiders, including some close-ups!

I mean, I'll tag it, but just in case anyone happens to not have those tags filtered, I'm using a cut as well. ^^

Doing a bit of gardening earlier today, and saw a cluster of tiny little baby garden spiders on my fence. They're soooo cute! <3

I took quite a few macro photos, although even the ones that didn't come out completely blurry still had some blurred areas. I just wanted some pictures of these little guys!

These are the best four:

And a few cropped and slightly sharpened isolated babies from other shots:

Thanks for looking if you did. I know they're not the best you'll ever see, but I'm still so pleased with them considering I'm new to macro photography, plus I couldn't use my tripod because it's too short and they were too high up on the fence! ^^

[rosanacafe]

Daisies por Rosana Por Flickr: For Macro Mondays: "Fill the frame" Helios 58mm f2

[skydarcyedwards]

Nostalgia: 12 years of macro photography.

Probably my first good macro photo. I had recently bought my 60D, original nifty fifty 50mm f/1.8, extension tubes, and snoot for the built in flash. For the price it's an excellent way to get into macro photography.

An unidentified tiny hopper on a blade of grass.

Sky Edwards

2012

Canon 60D

Canon EF 50mm f/1.8

Extension tubes

[neocogent]

Pouting Angel

(macro using extension tube, focus stack of around 10-11 images using linux script)

(Heliios 44M-4 58mm lens, on focus rail)

[simply-sithel]

Always interesting to see where or even if ego/identity/identification can be found in one's work. This beauty here was out for display at the Renegade retreat (we had a little library table where folks deposited their books for admiration & check out) but it contained no identifiable information. We (myself and several others at the time) all remembered having seen it posted to the server but could not recall name nor find imprint. To have crafted such a striking book but left no indication as to artist... it was almost a little disturbing? Which paired wonderfully with the well executed centipede-like stitching across the spine!

[ it's @hoopsnakebindery's binding of Red Days by EntameWitchLulu, originally shared August 2021 ]

[scatter-snz]

Best Laid Plans - Part 3

Details: 11k, M sneezes, no pairing (for this part)

Summary: A secret agent is going undercover for a few days, and his target has a sneeze fetish. When preparing his next move, he finds even the best laid plans go awry.

PART 2 - PART 3 - PART 4

EVERYONE 🥹💖 Thank you so, so much for your continued support and kindness!!!! 😭 I’m just over the moon that folks are enjoying this and I’ve deeply appreciated all the likes, comments, reblogs, and asks!! I feel like I’ll never be able to say thank you enough times to everyone 😂💕 Please know that I’ve read each and every wonderful word you all have said and those sentiments have given me soul power!!! 💫

This is a fluffy interlude, but it will spice up again in Part 4! 😏 These are original characters, all in their mid twenties to early thirties. Please mind the warnings if anything here might be uncomfy for you.

(Warnings: Unrealistic science, Mess Lite™, getting sneezed on [accidentally, not in detail], questionable coworker dynamics [discussing sexual pleasure in a professional way], humiliation themes [main character gets embarrassed from sexual discussion], micro/macro [it’s a dream], masturbation, being induced by another person [not on purpose], feeling pleasure from sneezing).

THIS STORY IS NSFW!

-

The Wooden Lantern, tomorrow, 6:30pm. 

Omicron knew the place. He’d studied the resort’s directory extensively before they arrived. It was a high class, low-light, white table cloth and well-dressed waiter kind of restaurant. Either Josaline and her husband booked a reservation far in advance or they had the clout to demand one. The backdrop set the tone — extravagant, intimate, an evening of whispered banter. They better not expect me to pay, he thought, weaving around a housekeeper with a cart of towels and sheets. Head office probably won’t foot the bill.

It took longer than planned to pry himself away from Josaline. She was content to lounge for as long as he’d let her, asking him idle questions and tracing shapes on his chest with the tips of her fingers. All the while, she watched his nose. To Omicron it seemed like she was reluctant to miss even a second of his nasal misery, and she was treated to a fair amount of sniffling, sneezing, and nose blowing while they talked. When he finally managed to extricate himself, he surmised his nose was as red as the sunset. The light painted brilliant streaks over the coastline and reduced distant seagulls to silhouettes as they flew over sparkling water. 

And somehow, looking too long at the birds flapping their wings meant he had to sneeze. Bitterly, Omicron tucked a finger beneath his nostrils. They began to flare, anxious as the tickle took flight somewhere in his sinuses. Indulging this in his hotel room was better than the hallway, so Omicron picked up his pace. He could feel the sensation worsen, his nerves trembling, and soon a whole flock of frantic tickles startled into motion.

“-hhHH-” He flipped his hand up over his nose and increased his power walk to a near sprint.

“-gUH!hhh..HHH-” He skidded to his room door and through tears he scanned the keycard, shoved himself inside-

“HHEH’DZZssch!”

“Oh, here he is. He just got back.”

Omicron eased his eyes open long enough to see Agent Delta with his phone to his ear, frowning at him.

“Bless-”

“-IHCHZSSH’oo!” He flattened a hand to his chest, feeling himself breathe and breathe and- “..hah!-CHIZSSH’uh!.. ngghh..”

Omicron groaned and belatedly nosed into his shirt, at this point a decimated, jumbo-sized rag hanging limply from his hand.

“Bless you.” Delta delivered it firmly, and asked in the same tone, “How are you feeling?”

“Whad?” he asked, muffled at first before he lowered the shirt. “I’b fine.”

The senior agent gave him a doubtful once-over, then spoke to whomever was on the phone. “He says he’s fine.”

Muzzily, Omicron looked down at himself. Then sidelong to the closet door mirror. He stood only in his swim trunks, bare from his hips up with hair made wild by hungry hands and a smattering of burgundy lipstick across his throat. Worst was his nose, just as raw and sore looking as it felt. It twitched as he watched, his nostrils slowly stretching wide. His expression collapsed by degrees, jaw slacking, eyelids fluttering, chin tilting, chest lifting in one long breath.

“hhhhhHHH’ADZSSHiew!!” he sneezed, and threw himself a step forward.

Delta sighed. “Bless you.”

Once again Omicron lifted his shirt late and huffed a frustrated sigh of his own. When the tickle came over him, he couldn’t do more than simply sneeze. His days of diligent etiquette were long behind him now. There was a tap on his shoulder and when he looked up, Delta was standing in front of him with a fresh box of unscented, lotion-infused tissues. Omicron could have cried.

“Thag’k you-” he choked, snatching a handful just before he “-hd’ZZSSCH!-guh..”

He transitioned his groan into a strengthless blow of his nose. Even for how little effort he used, the action was productive — more audibly than he would have preferred. At least the tissues didn’t chafe. It took several rounds, Delta patiently holding the box for him, until Omicron’s sniffling was stuffy but dry. The tickle relaxed as much as it ever did, tracing shapes against his membranes. It reminded him of Josaline. By the time he was finished, Delta had traded the box for the room’s little trash bin. 

“Yes, just a moment..” he said into the phone, then tipped the bin expectantly at Omicron. Meekly, he dropped in all his tissues (as well as his shirt, it was a lost cause) as Delta continued. “Let me speak with him first.”

Omicron tried to cobble together some semblance of professionalism. He straightened his spine and folded his hands into a parade rest to deliver his report. “Sir, there is a new development-”

“Apologies, Omicron, that will have to wait,” Delta bulldozed over him. “Something’s come up.”

A prickle of anxiety raised the hairs at the back of his neck. “… Sir?”

“It concerns your condition,” Delta replied, and his faltering loss of eye contact didn’t reassure Omicron in the slightest. “It’s a.. delicate subject, so I’ll leave this to Dr. Voster.”

Omicron closed his eyes in exasperation. He’d forgotten about her. Shit. Delta passed him the phone, and then very conspicuously occupied himself across the room.

Bracing himself, Omicron lifted the phone to his ear. “Yes?”

“Hi, Agent Omicron,” said Dr. Voster in a tinny voice from the receiver. “You’re a hard man to get a hold of lately.”

“Well, I’ve been a bit busy,” he said, then lifted a fist to his nose. Idle as the tickle was, the incessant, gossamer sensation of it was beginning to bother him. “Forgive me if I don’t have time to shoot the breeze.”

“You think I’d come to you for small talk? I’d have better luck with a brick wall.”

“Noted,” he replied as he glanced around for the tissue box. He found it sitting on his bed. “Are you calling to berate me or is there something you want?”

“If you remember from yesterday,” she insisted with unnecessary attitude, “I’m calling to talk about your nose.”

The tickle twinged, perking up like a dog to a whistling call. The rims of his eyes grew wet. His breath hiccuped. “I’d reahh- hly rather not.”

“Too bad, I’ll cut to the chase: are you getting erections when you sneeze?”

Her words pierced him like arrows, followed by the bleed of heat into his cheeks, ears, and neck. Omicron’s hand froze halfway to his face, tissues hovering. She knows, his mind shrieked. She knows. He whipped his head to Delta, who was faffing pointlessly with his suitcase while pretending to ignore the conversation unfolding across the room. And so does he.

“Your silence is telling,” said Anita.

“No.” His mind was static and his mouth was dry. Words wouldn’t flow. “I’m not.. No.”

The lie was so poorly delivered that it wouldn’t have fooled anyone. Sweat slinked down his nape. Dr. Voster blew a breath over the line, sharp and rueful. “Welp. That one’s on me.”

He darted another glance to Delta and caught the man staring just before they simultaneously turned away. Meanwhile, the tickle followed the path of a twitching nerve with a light, curious touch. Hunching his shoulders and scrunching his face, Omicron mumbled into the receiver. 

“What’s that supposed tuhh.. to mean?”

“Your reaction at the lab was extreme, in relation to the vigor of your sneezing as well as the presence of physiological responses indicating arousal,” she explained, her tone appreciably analytic despite the awkward topic. “Dilated pupils, shortness of breath, difficulty concentrating..”

She suspected it from the beginning? Omicron reeled. It made sense; she was impressively educated and one of the most respected techs at the agency. Her knowledge ranged from biology, physiology, immunology, and beyond. In retrospect, he’d been a fool to think he could ever hide something like this from her. 

“Even so, I couldn’t be sure. It warranted further research and I found something unexpected.”

Omicron pushed a hand through his hair, pressing his thumb into the soft indent of his temple. He’d walked in here with a headache and he could tell this conversation would only make it worse. “Oh?”

“It’s a little known fact that parts of the nose contain the same type of erectile tissue as the genitals, and both are linked to the body’s autonomic nervous system.” 

As she spoke, the tickle feathered a persistent, teasing swirl around a sensitive spot. His inflamed membranes pulsed insistently, as did his chapped nostrils. He tried his damned best to ignore it. “... Pardon?”

“I believe because I gave you a higher dose of viral particles than you needed, the overstimulation of your nasal nerves is causing an echoing effect to the erectile tissue in your penis.”

A dangerous emotion lurched up from Omicron’s stomach and got caught behind his teeth: anger. It warred, then mixed, with his humiliation. Exhaustion eroded his willingness to swallow it back down. 

“This is actually not unheard of. Kinks aside, some people experience this during intercourse, or even from simply thinking about sex, though usually the arousal causes sneezing rather than the other way around..”

Anita blathered on about speculative science, and the bubbling pot of annoyance he’d nursed since the start of this assignment at last began to boil over. Frustration erupted into rage.

“..Still, it’s a variable I completely overlooked. I’m sorry, Omicron.”

“Sorry?” he barked, raising his volume to a throat-scratching degree. “You’re sorry? Are you serious?”

There was a pause over the line. “.. Yes?”

“Sorry isn’t going to cut it.” The ardor in his voice vibrated in his sinuses, heightening the caressing sensations of the tickle, which only angered him more. “Yhh-You told me I wouldn’t b-be comprhhuh-.. hhmised by your stupid experiment!”

“That was before I saw its effects in action. I advised you not to go forward with the mission, remember? I only agreed in front of Delta because you looked so sad. It was foolish on my part. I should’ve grounded you.”

“So that I could suffer for your mbistake??” he demanded. His nostrils shivered and he shoved them with the heel of his palm. Congestion clogged his words. “I’ve waited so long for this mbission, Anita, you kdnow I have!”

“It wasn’t my intention to compromise you, Omicron,” and while she said it with contrition, there was also resignation. “I can’t predict every outcome. It’s just one of those things.”

The pragmatism in her voice only fueled his fire, but before he could assemble his response, the tickle struck. Even in the throes of wrath it wouldn’t leave him be. Its touch seeped through his nose like a spill. His lungs jumped with a single breath, and then Omicron’s head snapped down. 

“DDJZSSsh’oo!”

The sneeze staggered him two steps back and another was fast on the rise. It held him hostage in its grip, but Anita’s curt “bless you” in his ear waylaid the urge. He fulcrumed a finger beneath his nose to buy time. Emotion roared up from his chest and broke out of him in a rambling crash. 

“I get one chandce! One. To prove mbyself and if I fail they’re gonna relegate mbe to archives and filing duties for the rest of mby career!!”

He was peripherally aware of Delta, who’d at some point moved to stand in front of him. There was something in his hand, a gadget Omicron recognized but couldn’t think to name. His vision tunneled, dark at the edges. His heart pounded in his ears. His nose twitched ominously, not to be delayed much longer. 

“I c-.. hhhan’dt lose this case,” he was babbling, quicker and quicker when his nostrils began to flare. The burgeoning sneeze tugged his eyelids shut and stole his breath away. “It’ll- it.. iyeehh…h-HH!hck’KZSShiu!”

Dr. Voster took the opportunity to cut in; she sounded deliberately calm as he sniffled fitfully through a recovery. “Omicron, listen to me, you’re catastrophizing. Slow down for a second and breathe.”

“Ndo, you listen!” His voice cracked and an ugly desperation made itself known. “They’ll really do it, if I’b ndot perfect they’ll write mbe off a’d I’ll end up a cautionary tale, they’ll laugh mbe out of the agency, everythi’g I’ve worked for will be for dnothi’g, I-”

Glowing numbers flashed in front of his eyes. Omicron startled, teetering unevenly on his feet. At first he had no idea what it was, but as his vision steadied the image formed. Delta stood before him, grim, offering the readout screen of an infrared thermometer.

The numbers read 102.4°F / 39.1°C . Omicron squinted at them, uncomprehending.

“... what’s thad?” he rasped.

Delta’s reply was immediate and immutable. “Your fever.”

Omicron blinked. Squinted harder. Read the numbers again even as they started to blur. I have a fever? he asked himself. As his fury ebbed, new sensations emerged: the painful heat radiating from his head, a pervasive chill seeping from his core, the weakness in his knees and the cotton in his ears. He began listing to the side. The phone slipped from his hand.

Oh, he realized. I have a fever.

“Oop!” Delta dashed and caught him before he could swoon to the floor. Together they sank in a controlled descent as the senior agent muttered, “Easy now, easy..” under his breath. Once they were down, Omicron tucked his head into his knees and tried to fend off the headrush.

Indistinct voices floated around him. He could only catch snippets of conversation — “high grade temperature,” and “want you here by morning” — and he gave up on the rest. Instead, he concentrated on the bracing passes of Delta’s broad hand across the span of his sweaty shoulders. It took longer than he liked, but eventually Omicron raised his head with minimal dizziness. He stared into the weave of the carpet.

“Did she hang up?”

“Yes,” Delta said beside him. “She gave me a list of questions to ask you when you’re feeling a bit better.”

Omicron dropped his head back to his knees. “... is she upset?”

“At your outburst?” Delta asked, and his subordinate cringed. “She’s more worried about you than upset, but you wouldn’t be remiss to apologize when she arrives.”

In the aftermath of his tantrum, clarity pricked him like a thorn. This was as much his fault as it was Anita’s. It was true her virus yielded unexpected results, but by concealing them from her, he’d failed in his responsibility as a teammate. She put her trust in him, and he let her down. There were few things more painful for him than owning his mistakes.

Stewing in his shame, he sniffled and said the only thing he could say. “I’b sorry, sir.”

Delta’s smile grew warm at the edges. “I’m not the one you shouted at, but I’ll accept your apology since you lied to me too.”

God, he wished the ground would just swallow him whole. Omicron folded into an even smaller ball, arms tightening around his shins. The position made his nose run, which required frequent snuffling for maintenance, but he’d rather do that than look Delta in the eye.

“I expect honesty from you, agent. Full stop. Not a single lie moving forward, either directly or by omission. Am I understood?”

Omicron could barely force himself above a whisper. “Yes, sir.”

“Not just about the virus,” his superior continued, “but also your wellbeing. You’ve put so much pressure on yourself, Omicron. I had no idea you were under the impression that this assignment would be your only chance to succeed.”

Without anger as a shield, he’d lost his last defense. Delta’s sympathy felt like a punch in the gut. Even worse, his near constant sniffles were going to make him sneeze. He keenly felt each bead of moisture drip down his stressed passages, then skate back up with every subsequent snatch of air. It was unabating, alluring, and it coaxed little sighs from his lip when he exhaled. He didn’t have to wait long.

“..hh’MMPHssh!!Huh..” Omicron muffled it into his knees, his entire body trembling. Then he hurried to respond before he could be blessed. “-but it’s true, righd?”

“Come again?” Delta asked, and when Omicron spoke it again with more volume, he could hear Delta’s brow furrow just from the way he replied, “No, it’s not true at all. Did someone tell you differently?”

With reluctance, Omicron lifted his head and confirmed with a stuffy mumble. “.. Agent Rho did.”

“Rho!” Delta scoffed, as if he could scold the agent from here. His voice lowered to a grumble, and that told Omicron exactly how Delta felt about Rho. “Don’t listen to them. They enjoy scaring less experienced agents.”

(Here Omicron swore a silent, seething vow that he would exact calculated revenge upon Agent Rho for their transgressions against him. Delta continued, oblivious.)

“A reprehensible practice, but between you and I, head office rarely entertains my complaints on the matter.”

Head office… Fuzzy worries came into focus as Omicron muddled through another lazy, slow-to-arrive sneeze. The fog of it clouded his expression as he tried in vain to soldier on.

“Are you goi’g t-.. hih’KIZSsh!” he bobbed his head, then slitted his eyes open only for them to flutter closed again. “..ehKZSSh’uh!... mmbgh..” 

“Bless you,” said Delta, watching Omicron cup a hand over his nose. “Here, use these.”

Delta held out the tissue box, still half-full with soft paper, and Omicron plucked out several. His breath hitched high, voice heady, as he attempted to relay gratitude. 

“Th-hhah.. ah’NKZSSS’hoo!” He crushed it into the tissues, and then flushed with a fresh layer of chagrin when Delta chuckled.

“Bless you, Omicron, you’re welcome.” He waited for the nose blowing to stop before he continued. “You were saying?... ‘Am I going to’ what?”

Oh, right, his question.. With fever, congestion, and the pledge of sneezes crowding his head, holding onto a thought longer than a few seconds felt next to impossible. “Are you going to ground me?”

“I’m not sure yet,” Delta replied. “Considering your condition, I should say yes, but I’d like Dr. Voster’s opinion first. You’re making progress on this case and I’d hate to halt your momentum prematurely.”

That was fair. Uncontrollable boners and a fever on active duty would probably dissuade any overseeing officer from adapting a ‘push through’ mentality. Especially Delta, since the man had the most heavily bleeding heart Omicron had ever known. It would be up to Anita, then; he couldn’t muster the energy to fret about it right now. They sat together while Omicron tended to his fidgety nose, still side by side on the floor, until Delta made a sound of recollection.

“Speaking of the case, didn’t you mention a development? I interrupted you earlier. What was it you wanted to tell me?”

Ahhhh, dammit, Omicron lamented. I forgot about that too.

Even before Anita threw her wrench, he hadn’t been sure how his date tomorrow would go over with Delta. He’d had plans of carefully breaking the news, laying out the variables and working gradually to the big reveal. But now he could barely remember the basic idea, let alone complex and eloquent details. Wracking his boiling brain did nothing but cost him his opportunity; the meandering tickle of his cold stumbled yet again on sensitive territory.

“-Hah…” It lured a dreading sound from his lips as the urge niggled him. Hadn’t he sneezed enough? His count had to be over a hundred by now, and yet his nose wasn’t satisfied. Overworked as they were, his nasal nerves were as ceaseless in their goals as the virus was. “..hiH-.. ngh..”

Omicron cut his losses. Either he ripped the bandaid off or wasted another ten minutes sneezing while his cold tickled him senseless. He took a moment to steady his breathing before saying, “...She has a hus’BEHSsh’oo!”

It startled them both, barreling out of him freely and with an unfortunate lack of cover. Delta flinched away, visibly caught in the crossfire, and Omicron panicked. Both hands jerked up to cover his nose as a whiplash of shame froze him to the bone. 

“Fuck, I’b so siihH-” Oh god, again? His breath wavered at the top of his throat, almost a whimper, and he was so discombobulated from the first one that he couldn’t prepare for the second. “-ih’GXCHHT!”

It ran roughshod, mostly through his nose, and it scraped his sinuses on the way out. Very unpleasant, but fortunately the tickle had to play second fiddle to the stinging aftermath. Omicron hitched down from the high, hands still cemented to his face for modesty and eyelashes sticking with tears as he threw a glance to his superior.

“b’sorry!” he eked out, and he must have looked truly miserable because Delta’s eyes widened.

“It’s alright, it’s alright!” he said earnestly, with a shake of his head and a consoling pat to Omicron’s back. “I’m not upset, I know that was an accident. Don’t worry about it, hm? Here..”

He fished up the tissue box in offering before politely turning away as Omicron cleaned himself up. The mortification nearly crushed him, but still the junior agent reeled with relief. He could trust his superior at his word that he wasn’t upset; it just wasn’t in Delta’s nature to lie, unless it was for his cover. It took nearly the rest of the box before Omicron deemed himself decent, and even then he pinned a preemptive bushel of tissues around his nose in case another sneeze got away from him. Delta was looking at him with such effusive compassion that Omicron delivered his news without preamble, desperate to change the subject.

“I got invited to a threesome with Josaline and her secret husband,” he said from behind his hands.

Agent Delta was gobsmacked. “Wh- Josaline Jewel has a husband?”

Omicron nodded.

“We have no intel to suggest that at all. Are you sure?”

Omicron nodded again.

There was a bewildered pause, then an even more disbelieving, “And you’ve scheduled a threesome with them?”

For a third time Omicron nodded, bleary-eyed over the edge of his tissues. Beneath his hands, his nostrils spasmed around the shape of a sluggish itch. It stalled out somewhere in his sinuses, too present to dismiss but not yet committed to climax. Don’t tease me, he begged with a slow blink. Either hurry up or go away.

“Omicron,” Delta said, a note of wonder in his voice. “I knew you were talented, but this exceeds expectations. Particularly with the knowledge that you did this while contending with unforeseen complications. Well done.”

His heart fluttered weakly at the praise and Omicron squashed any pleased feelings that arose from it. There would be nothing to celebrate if he couldn’t finish the job.

“Th.. hhagk you, sir.”

“When are you meeting them?”

“T-.. Tihh-..” As he spoke the tickle squiggled like a banner caught in a breeze. He rushed the rest on an exhale — “..t-t’mborrow nhhigh..” — heaved in a huge breath, and then- “IDTZSSH’hoo!!”

“Bless, tomorrow night, hm..” Delta rushed the blessing as well, rubbing his chin with a long sigh. “This does complicate things. I doubt we’ll get a chance like this again, but I’m not granting clearance until Dr. Voster takes a look at you-”

“ht-.. HD’JZSS!uuh..”

“-bless you, because that fever of yours concerns me. That side effect wasn’t listed in the literature and it surprised her to hear that you’ve developed one-”

“.. eh-.. eH’TSCHHOO!”

“-bless you. So better safe than sorry. Your health and safety takes priority over any assignment, Omicron, do try and remember tha-.. oh, bless…?”

“.. h-HDT-!”

Omicron waiting on the cusp of another, eyes rolled skyward and lips parted in desire, still cloaked behind his curtain of tissues. He could feel he had Delta’s undivided attention, which made the tickle shy. It shivered inside him, sending his nostrils into a fit of flaring. Stuttered breaths filled his lungs in tiny bursts, emptying again on uneasy sighs, and he-.. he-!..

.. relaxed, defeated, with a groan. 

“Lost it?” Delta asked, then quirked a smile at Omicron’s moody nose-blow. “I’m sure it’s very disappointing. My condolences.”

Because Delta was being very gracious about all this — Omicron’s dishonesty and careless sneezing — he couldn’t summon up any feelings of exasperation. It helped that he was running on empty, too enervated by his fever to do much more than slump with a nod that made his head gently spin. He waited it out and only when he startled to awareness at a gentle touch on his arm did he realize he’d been falling asleep where he sat. He squinted up at Delta who was now standing, smiling down at him.

“Dr. Voster asked me to collect more data on your condition, but that can wait,” he said, and hauled Omicron to his feet. He guided the smaller man toward the bright fluorescence of their hotel bathroom. “Why don’t you wash up? It might help.”

Too dazed to protest, Omicron stood shivering barefoot on the cold tile in his swim trunks while Delta babbled about this and that. A couple blinks later he was holding a set of sweats from his suitcase, his toiletry bag, and a clean pair of fuzzy socks that wasn’t his. Probably Delta’s. He’d seen the man wear a different pair around the room just last night. Juggling the items and mumbling thank-yous, he nudged the door shut with his foot as Delta stated he’d be going out to grab dinner.

And thus commenced his character assassination. 

Omicron laid to rest and mourned what remained of his dignity. He was, in essence, sick on the job with an unseemly cold and his boss was playing nurse. In other words, a nightmare. Never had any of his coworkers seen him T less than peak health, and he hadn’t bargained on Anita’s monster virus turning him into… this. As he shambled through a shower, pajamas, and then curled up into bed, he hoped in vain that his fever would be bad enough to knock him out before Delta got back. No such luck.

Omicron knew how he could look, especially with fresh, fluffy bedhead and sleeves that drooped over his hands. He could only assume this aesthetic was exacerbated by his glowing red nose and glassy eyes. ‘Cute’ was a moniker he’d take to his grave unfortunately, much as it haunted him. He’d never managed to escape it in any disguise, not for all the leather, fake piercings, or platform boots in the world. 

So when Agent Delta turned around and caught sight of him, snuggled in a poofy duvet clutching the tissue box with a little twitch troubling his nose, Omicron beat him to the punch. “Please don’t patronize me, sir.”

Delta’s smile threatened laughter, but he reigned it in with a polite cough and clear of his throat. “I wasn’t going to, agent. I’m just glad to see you’re more comfortable.”

‘Comfortable’ was a generous word that only got further from the truth as the night wore on. Omicron was treated to dinner in bed, complete with a serving tray borrowed from the staff, and the gesture was enough to obliterate any shred of appetite he had for the hot and sour soup Delta brought him. He just wanted to dissolve into the atmosphere and disappear. What he did manage to eat sprung tears in his eyes and a menacing prickle in his clogged sinuses. He spent most of the meal with a tissue held to flexing, leaky nostrils.

The conversation after dinner was yet another exercise in torture. Omicron would have tried choking down more soup if he’d remembered Delta had orders from Anita to question him about his ‘condition.’

Rationally, Omicron knew he shouldn’t be embarrassed. He had sex on the job now and then, and those wild whims he pursued on his personal time were a cure for boredom more than anything. There was something different about this though, the pleasure he felt from sneezing. It felt intimate, self-generated, and to some extent outside of his control. That he might accidentally get aroused without a purpose, beyond that it simply just felt good, was a thought he couldn’t bare to share with anyone. 

“I find it endearing that you are so bashful about this, considering your line of work,” Delta said, understanding yet undeterred, “but as this pertains directly to your ability to perform on the job, I’m afraid Voster and I are on a need to know basis. I promise it will be quick and painless.”

The unyielding furrow in Delta’s brow told Omicron he wouldn’t escape this discussion, no matter how badly he wanted to avoid it. Maybe by some miracle he’d black out and not remember it after.

Once they got started, the questions were mercifully clinical: How often are you experiencing unexpected symptoms? Under what circumstances do they arise? Are you experiencing any unexpected symptoms beyond those already identified? And so on. All the while, Omicron dissuaded sneezes with nose rubs, nose blows, and general nose abuse of that nature. Each ticklish surge that scrambled for a foothold he countered with equal obstinacy. Nothing he did would rid him of the itch, so there was no reason to indulge it.

Yes there is, said the steady drip of tension into his abdomen. Feel that? It was a formless need, faint enough to ignore. For now. Given time the drip would form a puddle, then a pond, and eventually an ocean of want churning in the core of him. And it will feel so good to let go. 

Omicron resolutely ignored that feeling. 

When they finished with the questions, he didn’t even realize it was over; he dozed off while Delta prattled on too long about meaningless things, his voice soothing in its familiarity, and awoke with a start minutes or hours later from a soft touch on his elbow. Just Delta, whispering something about acetaminophen, offering pills and a glass of water which Omicron tossed back wordlessly before hurtling headfirst back into sleep.

He surfaced in and out of consciousness throughout the night, plagued by chills, sweats, and the strange dreams only a fever can cook up. Vivid, nonsensical adventures that ranged from confusing to harrowing, until Omicron eventually found himself spelunking. How he ended up in this damp, drippy cavern eluded him, but he remained committed to his single directive: explore. 

It was an odd place, even in a dream. Rather than rough-hewn stone, Omicron walked barefoot on a soft, plush surface that spanned the walls and even the ceiling. Caves were usually quite chilly, but this one was comfortably warm. Steady breezes cut through the humidity, first blowing one way and then the other, ruffling Omicron’s hair at each pass. He staggered when a particularly strong gust dragged him like an undertow and leaned against the wall to keep his balance. This immediately backfired because the wall was unexpectedly slick. With a frictionless glide, he tumbled to the ground.

“Sheesh,” he muttered, planting his palms to push himself up. When he did so, there was a near imperceptible shudder through the cavern. The rhythmic wind stuttered, stopped, then continued with an unsteady edge. He raised arm against a blast of air. “What-..?”

A light caught his eye, and Omicron glanced down to find a nexus of thrumming veins spidering out from his epicenter. They pulsed with a beautiful glow, casting a red hue across his face and illuminating the cave floor with a pink, stained glass iridescence. Curious, he trailed his fingers along the branching paths and watched the veins spread further. Again the cave floor lurched, stronger this time, and the wind around him escalated into trembling, intermittent squalls. For some reason he didn’t feel afraid, only determined.

Omicron clamored to his feet. He approached the wall where the veins began to climb. They pulsed weakly, wanting, and he felt that he needed to help them. Feeling around on his person, he unearthed something from his back pocket: a feather duster. The feathers waved in the strong breeze, plentiful and downy. How he’d managed to fit this in his pocket was dream logic he didn’t question. 

“Let’s see,” he mumbled, and crouched to sweep the instrument along the wall. It seemed to cringe from the sensation, twitching madly as the veins hungrily advanced. 

Omicron kept it up, dusting as much as he could reach even as the cavern began to shiver in earnest and the wind whipped his hair like a storm. But he couldn’t stop. He just had this feeling that if he lit the cavern completely, it would be a magnificent sight. As the paths flourished, they brought with them a gorgeous backlight to the tender, rose-petal surfaces of the cave. Funny, they looked almost inflamed. Irritated by his influence, intolerant of his presence here. The thoughts didn’t deter him. Omicron raised up on his tiptoes to take a swipe at the ceiling and had his feet knocked out from under him when the world tremored in response. The gale sucked inward with authority, and the feather duster was ripped from his hands.

Something was happening. Around him, the veins fanned out on their own and he’d been right: the radiance of the cavern was incredible with it all lit up at once. Beneath him the ground throbbed contentiously, convulsing, hot to the touch, and for the first time, Omicron wondered if he might have done something he shouldn’t have. No longer distracted by his goal, he became aware of a weird sound. Something deep, rumbling beneath him, the desirous moans of uhh.. uHhh.. uHHh-!... growing in volume, pitch, and power. 

And suddenly, he felt the echo of this urge manifest in his nose. Its vigor sprung tears to his eyes and his jaw dropped open, helpless as it consumed him. His gasps and groans synced up to the wild chaos around him, and he could feel the very nerves he squirmed against crying out for mercy. It tickled insufferably, teased to heights he couldn’t believe — and there was only one way down.

I’m inside my own nose? was his first bizarre realization. The second was, I’m going to sneeze.

Omicron opened his eyes, only to snap them closed again. “-HP’BBSZZCHHHOOO!!!-”

He groaned, arching against the mattress, as the sneeze went straight to his dick. Bleary, barely awake, all he could do was coast through a yearning gasp and “HEEHDZJJSSSZH!Nnngghh-!”

Raw relief tingled through him, shimmering through his nose and groin, and autopilot took over. Omicron plunged a hand down his pants and gripped his morning wood, firm and ready to burst. There was enough precum trickling from his slit and staining his boxers that he could smooth his thumb over the head and ignore the slight burn from dry skin friction.

His nostrils flittered in anguish, and his sinuses drummed with an insatiable itch. Please, they implored him. This tickle tortured us all night long. Do something. And Omicron was happy to serve. 

A monumental gasp - “hHHHHIIH!” - heralded an comparatively monstrous sneeze - “EEHDDZZZCHHH’Uh!!-hoohhh..”

This was so much better in bed. A tidal wave of pleasure rushed through him, from his nose to his toes, and he couldn’t catch his breath. He gritted his teeth, bowing his back as he thrust into the grip of his hand. It was just on the edge of too much; Omicron wasn’t normally so sensitive, but he’d woken with every inch of his skin tingling and thought it had to be the fever. 

The tickle flexed deep inside, and Omicron recalled the striking visuals of his dream. Wet, pink walls. Encroaching red veins. Sensitive nerves, shuddery membranes, the way he’d ignorantly worked himself up to this very fit with a bundle of soft, stroking feathers. He could imagine himself doing it again, deliberately this time, sweeping the inside of his nose deftly and thoroughly, tickling and tickling and fighting to keep his eyes open even as the sensation forced them tightly closed. Coaxing a hitching breath. Making him sn-..

“-hoh fuhhck-.. hh!HUH!. UHHZZSSSHH’iu!-ooh!” His heels slipped on the sheets, straining for purchase, as he panted his way up to another. “-igih.. iH’GISSCCHOOO!-hah!!”

Each one got him an inch closer to orgasm. He bobbed over every wave with surety the next one would break over his head and drown him. Omicron snuffled unsteadily, aware his nose was running without the care to wipe it, and began twisting his wrist when he felt his nostrils blow wide in preparation. 

Yes yes yes, he cheered. Let this be the one.

He hitched through a dazed smile, a deceptively dainty hh-hht-htt! that then curled him up with a bed-shaking, “HAH’TSSDCH’UE!..hh’mmngg-!..” 

Omicron’s whole body clenched, tense with the impending release, but before it could come he was hitching again. His dream self dusted away, dauntless with a single-mindedness to make him sneeze. And he’d assuredly succeed, as his real self shuddered through a fit-and-start buildup.

“-hihg..ihh!hhoh.. HHT-!chhhoo..” 

It wouldn’t come, hovering so close to the brink that whenever he breathed into the tickle he sighed out the approximation of its finale. His hand never stopped, the steady pumps easier now that he was wet enough. Through the haze of fever, grogginess, and arousal, Omicron imagined the dutiful brush of that duster against his quivering membranes. He was a thorough man, never one to leave a job half-finished, and he visualized himself venturing deeper, farther, to a cowering patch of nerves hoping to escape torment. The feathers caressed them, velutinous and inviting.

“.. iih!HHhhh..”

Deeper, to the responsive edge of his sinuses, where he trailed the duster along the border with deliberate care. The tickle’s magnitude tripled, aching in its eagerness. His dick pulsed in reply, hot and heavy in his frantic hand. 

“-HIH!..hh..hgIHH-”

Deeper still, to the end of the line, so far inside his nose he’d never hope to get it out. The feathers touched quivering flesh. With a smirk, his dream self stroked so gently, agonizingly slow, barely a tease and yet it tickled him to an unbearable degree. He could feel every fiber of the agitating feathers, the promise they whispered. 

Come on, he said to himself. You know you want to.

Omicron’s gasp cut the air like a knife, inflating his lungs to capacity, before he roared violently into his blankets. “-iihHHHHH-?!..WRRIZZSSSCHH’IIUHHH!!-mmbb!!”

He turned his head into his pillow to moan through his orgasm, stroking through it as a euphoric, tingling balm spread through his sinuses. It lasted longer than he anticipated, a continuous ripple of ecstasy that had him whimpering, panting, trembling. All his muscles relaxed, every part of him sated, and when the aftershocks ebbed Omicron sunk into the sheets, hand still in his pants, to let sleep call him back into its arms. It’s not like he had somewhere to be. What did he have to do this morning..? Vacuum the apartment..? Get groceries..? Cuddle with his cats?.............wait-

OH NO.

Omicron jackknifed into a sitting position, then immediately regretted it when his head spun. He drooped onto an elbow, coughing, heart hammering, and in a panic he scanned the room. Nobody here. No sounds from the bathroom either. The relief was so intense it sent him into another sickening dose of dizziness. He flopped flat to the mattress and tried to steady his breathing.

I didn’t just jack off in front of my superior officer, he assured himself. Everything is fine. He finally slipped his hand out of his pants and wrinkled his sore nose at the stickiness of his skin and underwear. But I have to clean up.

It took a pitifully long time to do so. Shivers wracked him the moment he crawled out of bed, and every step was a wobbly gamble. He forgot spare clothes and had to backtrack, then couldn’t figure out how to clean up without taking a shower he didn’t have the energy for. All the while his head pounded, his throat stung, and eventually the whims of the virus brought him to the brink of feeble, fallout sneezes.

Finally, with his dirty clothes stuffed into the bottom of his suitcase and most of the sweat wiped off his skin, Omicron zombied his way back to the bed and collapsed face down. Some flailing got him purchase on the sheets, mercifully spared from most of his fluids, and at last he was horizontal. Of course the position dutched the congestion to a new angle. It tickled him.

Omicron huffed weakly, wearily, and  ducked under the cover of his blankets. “-iih’KIZSSH!’iuh…” Only the one. He sighed, rubbing the edge of his sheet beneath his fussy nose. Now, maybe he could just….

From the door there was the sound of a keycard clattering, then the latch lifting, and a boisterous pair of voices entered the room. “Honey, I’m home!”

Omicron buried his head under the blankets.

“Anita, he may not be awake..” That one was Delta. “Shouldn’t he rest?”

“The sooner I examine him, the better. Where-?.. ah! There you are.”

Omicron tightened his grip on the blankets, and was right to do so because seconds later there was a tug from the outside. It was hot and stuffy under the covers, hard to breathe, but he’d rather suffocate than deal with Anita Voster right now. She tugged again and he didn’t budge.

“Oho?” she tittered. “Trying to avoid treatment, mm? You should know better, Agent O.”

He remained tense, blinking weakly against a flutterish niggle. His nostrils flared, nervous, and he would have soothed them with a touch of his finger if his hands weren’t occupied. He scrunched his nose instead, squirming it side to side when the tickle didn’t abate. Dr. Voster was on the move, he’d lost track of her-...

“Anddd.. voila!”

Cold air and light entered his cocoon. She’d rounded the bed and flipped the covers up from the back side, which was a dirty move. A chill swept up his spine, prompting a shudder that shivered into a sneeze. 

“h-hhi’hHTSSsh!-hh..” He flinched his knees to his chest, tucking an arm around himself as he threw the other behind him for the covers. “Gih-..ig’IIZSSH!”

“Bless bless you,” she cooed in a playful tone that made him bristle. Her hand cupped his shoulder and pulled. “Now, let me see… oh.”

Her smile dropped away as she looked at him, lips parting in genuine surprise, her manicured eyebrows marching up toward her hairline. She was wearing an obnoxious summery ensemble, no doubt excited to exploit the mission for a few days at the beach. When no reply was forthcoming, Omicron glared at her. The ferocity of it was undercut when a twinge in his nose prompted a squeaky sniffle.

“.. Whad?” he croaked.

“You’ve never looked so pathetic before,” she said in wonder. “And I’ve seen you faint after getting a vaccine booster.”

It was an open secret that he hated injections as much as he hated the dentist, but everyone kindly agreed not to acknowledge it after that one time. He growled his words, snatching the blankets back from her. “The ndeedle was really big and you said you’d dnever mbendtion it againd.”

“Voster,” chided Delta, hands on his hips. “Please refrain from teasing him when he’s not feeling well. He’s under enough stress as it is.”

As infantilizing as it was as a grown man to have another grown man scold somebody on his behalf, Omicron shot her a smug look that she met with an arched brow. 

“Fine,” she sighed, and crossed to his side of the bed. “I guess I’ll cut him some slack. Omicron, sit up a little.”

There would be no getting out of this. Delaying the process would probably get him another lecture from Delta, so Omicron reluctantly shimmied to a half-reclining position, arms crossed to ward off chills as she sat gracefully on his bedside. She crossed a leg at the knee, reached for his face, and cool hands cradled his jaw. He let her move him as she wanted, wrinkling and wriggling his nose to keep it appeased. 

The sly bullying he expected didn’t come. Dr. Voster was professional when she asked, “Any fluctuations in symptoms since last night?”

“Umb.. ndot really..” Omicron sniffed sharply and swallowed. He considered leaving it there, but his promise to Delta wouldn’t let him. He mumbled through the rest and could only hope she understood what it meant. “.. there was an.. idncident this mborning. That I resolved.”

“Gotcha,” she said, and didn’t press. Omicron relaxed under her handling. She took his temperature (101.3°F / 38.5°C), tested his glands, pulled down the edges of his eyelids, and then at last took a cursory glance up his nostrils with a wince. “I didn’t think it was possible to see a sneeze but the inside of your nose looks like one.”

Apt, since he could feel it forming between his eyes. He leaned away out of her grip, and without any tissues in reach, Omicron shook his sleeves over his hands and tucked into them. “hh!MMPSSH!..” 

“Bless you,” chorused the other two. 

He surfaced briefly as the tickle toyed with him, playing his nerves like batons on a xylophone. Every note vibrated, compounding in harmony, cacophonous as it crested, “..aak’KZSCHue!.. hh?..hh..”

“Bless you,” chorused the other two, again. Anita passed over the tissue box but he could barely keep his eyes open and his breath from shaking. She took pity on him as his hitches became jagged, pitching in his upper register, and she held out a few in his direction just as he- heeee-!

“-ick’SSHIEW?!”

It relieved him, but his shoulders flinched to his ears at the embarrassingly high sound. Delta quickly turned away with a hand to his mouth and Dr. Voster snorted unabashedly.

“Bless yew!” she parroted, and he kicked her off the bed. She rolled with the momentum into a smooth dismount before plopping right back where she’d been. “I’m done, I’m done! But you owe me a couple free jabs after yelling at me yesterday, you know.”

Right. His stomach soured at the reminder, and he stared at the blankets with a sleeved swipe under his septum. “.. I’mb sorry about that. I shouldn’d have taken out my frustration on you. Or lied to you in the first place.”

Dr. Voster softened, the lines of her face smoothing into something genuine. “Mm, I’m sorry for my sloppy science. It’s my fault you’ve got such a lousy cold.” 

Omicron never knew what to say after such sentiments. He considered and tossed out several replies, still boring holes into the blankets with his gaze, until she reached up and flicked the tip of his nose. His inhale was a hitch into the next before he flinched down toward his chest. 

“h-h-H’TZssh!” He brought a sleeve to his nose belatedly, throwing a scowl her way. “Whad was that for?!”

“For lying to me about that other thing,” she said, leering over him with a grin. “... Seems like you really are the man-cold type.”

Omicron hurled his pillow at her, which she dodged and Delta caught one-handed when it soared across the room. His firm voice broke up a squabble before it could begin. “Enough, you two.” He fluffed the pillow and returned it to his sheepish subordinate before looking to Anita. “Well?”

“Either his immune system is reacting to the engineered virus, or somehow he’s caught another cold on top of this one,” she said. Both looked to Omicron, who was trying to blow his nose without popping an eardrum. “If it’s the former, the mission can proceed. If it’s the latter, we bench him. That’s my opinion as his physician.”

“I’b righd here,” Omicron grumbled behind a mask of tissues.

Delta ignored him. “How do we know which is the case?”

Dr. Voster reached for the medical bag on the floor by her feet, which Omicron only just now noticed was in her possession. “By administering a test,” she replied, digging through it. When she found what she sought, Anita presented it to Omicron with an apologetic smile. “You’re not going to like it though.”

He thought it was a syringe at first. Before he could react, she peeled open the thin package to show him what was inside. Somehow, it was worse. Delta hissed through his teeth and Omicron hovered a protective hand over his nose.

“No,” he told her, eyes glued to the offending object. “No, no. That’s not going to work.”

Dr. Voster twirled it between her fingers: a wickedly long plastic rod with a cotton tuft on the end. “A nasal swab is the fastest way, O.”

He shook his head, unable to look away from it. The sight alone caused his nose grief as the tickle found inspiration. Omicron did his best not to imagine how it would feel. “Anita, it’s not possible. I-.. I can’t evehhn.. look at- at it withhou..HH!with.. withhHHAH-”

Omicron jammed a finger beneath his nose and shoved the sneeze back inside. He could tell he’d be on a roll if he started, and while he’d literally just cum he was terrified this impending volley would get him going again. If at all possible, even if everyone was aware of the situation, he’d like to avoid erections in front of his fucking coworkers. He held his breath and waited until his pulsing nostrils quieted before letting it all go on a sigh. Pointedly, he avoided looking at the swab.

“Hmmmm,” Dr. Voster mused. “I wonder if we blindfolded you..”

“Trust me,” he said, knuckling his nose. It wasn’t happy he’d ignored its demands. “That’s not going to help.”

“Rather than hold them back, could you try holding them in?” Delta suggested.

“Absolutely not,” Dr. Voster said. “He’s terrible at it, and I wouldn’t recommend it anyway. Not everyone can be as proficient at stifling as you are, sir.”

Delta’s smile weakened, properly chastised, as Voster tilted her head back and pressed her palms on the bed. Her leg bounced in thought. The three of them sat in a contemplative silence broken only by Omicron’s sniffling before Anita slapped her hands to her knees and stood with purpose.

“There’s nothing for it,” she said. “You’ll just have to avoid sneezing.”

“I won’t be able to,” he told her. His cheeks flushed, and the flash of heat mingling with his fever made him tremble with a chill. Stubbornness alone wouldn’t deter her, so he forced out the rest with emphasis. “And it-.. might cause an unexpected symptom.”

That gave her pause, but only briefly. “When exactly did you last experience the culmination of this symptom?”

This was embarrassing. “... approximately ten minutes before you arrived.”

“And would you expect yourself to experience that again so quickly after the last occurance?”

Somehow, he felt miffed on behalf of his refractory period. “.... I guess not.”

“Then even if you sneeze your head off after this, you’ll be fine,” she said with a dismissive wave of her hand. “If for some reason you’re not, it’s not a big deal. Agent Delta and I will just leave the room until it passes.”

I’d rather chew glass, Omicron thought, than have it come to that. The tickle nestled comfortably against his nerves, weighing his eyelids and prompting a reflexive sniffle. Cheeky bastard. He wouldn’t let it win this time. He grated the rough edge of his sleeve under his nostrils and squared his shoulders.

“Fine.” His flinty gaze locked onto the swab, his opponent in this battle. “Let’s do it.”

The other two exchanged a LookTM and preparation shortly followed. Delta announced he’d received a message from cyber security earlier that morning that required follow up, so he left to wire into the agency’s VPN in one of the hotel’s private conference booths. Voster snapped on some gloves and cracked open a fresh tissue box to place at Omicron’s elbow. He begrudgingly unearthed a wad of them to keep ready in his lap. Better safe than sorry.

Anita watched him carefully. “Would you like to get a few out before we start?”

If she was asking, he probably looked sneezy already. Omicron made an effort to sharpen his gaze and settle the tiny, twitching microexpressions that told plainly of a persistent tickle. “No. I want to get it over with.” He sniffled with a flutter of his nostrils. “Quickly.”

To her credit, Anita didn’t dawdle. “I’m administering a nasopharyngeal swab for the best results. If I can’t get enough from one sample, we’ll have to do the other nostril.”

Omicron nodded, tilting his chin when she stabilized him with a hand to his cheek. He blinked hard against a lurching itch as the swab came closer, hovering just in front of his flushed, prone nose.

“I need to rotate it for ten seconds, and then I’ll slowly remove it,” she told him. “Would it help if I counted?”

He flicked his gaze to the ceiling, hands fisted in the sheets over his lap. “Yes.”

“Alright, the count won’t start until I have it in place.” Dr. Voster eased his head back further, giving him a moment to arrange himself against his pillows before she touched the swab to the edge of one nostril. It pulsed, uncertain. “Here we go.”

This wasn’t Omicron’s first time with this particular type of swab. Normally he preferred it because of how deep it reached, so foreign and uncomfortable that a sneeze never crossed his mind. It was the shorter swabs, the ones that remained inside the borders of his persnickety nasal membranes that caused him agony. Maybe this wouldn’t be as bad as he feared? 

A second later that confidence was swiftly and callously dashed.

This cold was unlike any respiratory infection he’d ever had. It was engineered to inflame every cell of his airways, heighten them to such a state of paranoia that the very act of breathing registered as intrusive. This tickle wasn’t a physical thing; his nasal cavity was affected by such sensitivity that it inevitably itched and twitched and worked itself up into mayhem. Sneeze was the answer to every problem, even nonexistent ones. So to have himself in this state and introduce a material object into the mix was an instant and powerful regret.

The swab burned as it was threaded through his sinuses, razing his nerves as it went, and when the tip of it touched the back of his throat he could feel every millimeter of its length. He slammed his eyes shut. There was a brief moment of shock, as if his nose couldn’t quite believe what had happened. Then the swab began to spin.

His nostrils flew wide. “HHHHHHHH-”

“Shit,” muttered Voster. “Stay with me, c’mon, it’s just ten seconds.. Two….”

Just?! his brain screamed, overwhelmed by nasal panic and frantic to sneeze. Oh, he could feel it. An instant and oppressive demand. None of the usual hitching hesitation, just a massive and mandatory release sitting at the shores of his dilated nostrils. He couldn’t even communicate to Voster that it was coming. 

“.. Three, fight it…”

Omicron pinched himself as hard as he dared by digging his thumb into the pressure point of his other hand. It took the edge off the swab’s insidious stimulation and downgraded the sneeze from automatic to imminent. Lungs at capacity, all the air sat at the top. His body wouldn’t let him exhale without irritation-induced force. A pitiful sound escaped, heady and weak without breath behind it.

“-uuhh-”

“I know, we’re halfway, hang in there.. Six..”

God, this was torture. His nose throbbed with need, the insides puffy and convulsing. Please, they cried. It tickles so badly. Too much. We have to! He hovered just on the verge of the inevitable. Grinding harder into the pressure point on his hand dampened the sensation enough to keep it from progressing, but it never diminished. Just waited an inch from the finish line. Another high, helpless whimper trembled his chest.

“-huUH!-”

“Eight.. you’re doing great, Omicron, nine..” The hand on his cheek shifted to brace him firmly. “.. almost done, try to exhale..”

He couldn’t. His lungs wouldn’t let go. All he could do was live on the brink, tears skating down his cheeks and his features frozen in what he knew had to be a ridiculous face. Yearning or dreading, he didn’t know, but his entire expression flinched when the swab retreated. She was slowly pulling it out, still twirling it. He could feel the thin ropes of his control snapping, the dam crumbling, the glass shattering. An urgent, breathy shout slipped out, pure desperation, and it heralded something enormous.

“-HUUHH--!!!”

The swab slithered out of his nose completely, leaving behind a trail of unbearable sensation. “Okay! Y-”

“--HHEZZSSCCCHHHHUUUEE-!” Omicron hurled himself over his own lap, dizzied by the release, and gasped immediately for more. “-hH-HH!IIHZSSSSHH’UUh!!”

More. “-HH’AADZZSSCHH’HOO-!!”

More. “-HEH’DTSSHHH’HAH-!!”

More still. “ohh-.. HD’DIZZSHHHH’HUH!!”

But the relief wouldn’t come. His nose was so angry by the intrusion, it would give no quarter. Big, heaving sneezes weren’t doing the job, so he found himself next encumbered by small ones. They burst out of him in a row, each igniting a furious itch to prompt the next.

“ihDSH!-.. hck’ISSH!.. uh-HH’TZIshh!.. ugh, god-hHIH!” Omicron fought his eyes open through another gush of tears and caught a blurry glimpse of white. Oh right, the tissues. He gathered them up as his gaze rolled skyward, mouth agape and nostrils vast. It took a couple hitches before the tickle caught again. “h-hHT.. idzz..iiH!..mgh.. aH!KZSSCHH!”

He sneezed through his teeth, then belatedly raised the tissues. His eyes fluttered closed as even the soft touch of them pried another sneeze loose. They mounted in power as his nose, fed up with the lingering tickle the swab left behind, puppeteered him through an increasingly vicious fit.

“-h’ETZsh!... huh.. TZSSCH!ue… h-H!...EHPZSH’Iu!!-oohh..”

At last, a wave of pleasure rushed through his veins. It was faint, but after the hellish holdback and punishing sneezes, Omicron welcomed it. The knowledge there would be more spurred him onward; he breathed into the next ticklish swell with hope.

“uh-HHUH-HESZSCHUUE!” Cool prickles swept through his nose, soothing the frazzled nerves even as they clamored for another. Omicron complied. “heh.. HET’JZZSSSCHHOOO!-nngh..”

He shivered as his skin erupted with goosebumps. A warm, wonderful feeling unfurled in his gut. Head spinning, nose twitching, lungs hitching, he knew the end was close. He breathed deeply, relishing the way it tickled all the way down. Then-

“HEH…uh.. hHP’BIZSSSHHIEW!!-oooohhhh..”

Omicron massaged his nose through the tissues with quiet noises of relief until somebody clearing their throat caught his attention. With wet eyes, he raised his head to see Dr. Voster across the room mixing the swab in a vial with some sort of solution. She kept her attention on it as she spoke.

“Feeling better?”

He paused to cough and swallow. The fit left him raspy. “Yeah.”

“Any unexpected symptoms?” she asked. Fuzzy headed, Omicron looked down at his crotch. There was no tent under the covers, and while he felt boneless, he wasn’t turned on.

“Ndo.”

“Great!” Dr. Voster chirped. “In other good news, I got enough particulate matter on the first try that we won’t have to do it again.” She continued her work, but glanced over to shoot him a smile. “Bless you a dozen, by the way.”

“Thagks,” he huffed, then collapsed back onto the mattress with the solace of a job finished. 

It took a few minutes for him to clean himself up, and as he got his wits about him, he was appreciative that Voster kept herself busy so he could tend to his nose without scrutiny. His pleasant haze dissipated and Omicron realized he was totally spent. His head hurt, as did his throat, and his abs were aching. Once he was huddled under the covers, Anita swung by with a bottle of water and hushed instructions to take another fever reducer, which he did without complaint.

Some time passed. He didn’t know how much. One moment he was nodding off to the tinkling the whirs of Voster’s on-the-go mini-laboratory, and the next he was startling awake to a door opening. For a split second he forgot where he was, what was happening, but then a hand smoothed over his hair. 

“Just Delta,” came Anita’s voice. Tension left his sore muscles and he melted back into the mattress. For once his nose took pity on him, smoldering with a widespread ticklish sensation he could chase away by pinch-rubbing the sides of his nostrils.

“Ah, I didn’t mean to wake you!” was Delta’s contrite greeting. Omicron cracked open dry eyes to see the man coming around the bedside, eyebrows turned up in dismay. “Sorry, Omicron.”

“S’fide,” he replied, voice creaking, and he had to turn his head into the pillow to cough. Fuck, felt like he’d swallowed a sword and left it there.

“Goodness, you sound terrible.” Delta turned anxious eyes to Dr. Voster, who was leaning a hip against her makeshift workstation at the desk by their balcony doors. “Did you get the results?”

“Yep,” she said, cheerfully brandishing the culture sample. “No secondary infection. He’s just having a pronounced immune response to the engineered strain.” Here, she smirked at the Omicron-shaped lump on the bed. “And being very dramatic about it.”

Delta caught the pillow lobbed in her direction before it could knock any lab equipment over. He arranged it back on the bed, then passed his hand over Omicron’s brow. The smaller man let him, closing his eyes as the cool touch moved to his cheek, to his neck, then glided to his shoulder to offer a reassuring pat.

“How are you feeling?” he asked. “Please be honest.”

Omicron thought of the mission. It didn’t escape him that Dr. Voster confirmed he wasn’t actually sick. His body thought he was, but with proper symptom management he could see this assignment to the end. Josaline would probably love seeing him like this; hopefully her husband would too. 

“Ndot great,” he admitted, and Delta’s puppy-dog expression ramped up tenfold. Omicron rolled his eyes before he could stop himself. “I’b ndot dying, sir. If I get someb rest, I’ll be ready for tomborrow.”

The fact that he’d said all this without even sitting up likely undercut his claims, but Omicron truly believed it. When the time came, he’d rally. He always did. Delta considered him for a long moment before plopping down onto the other bed with a dejected bounce.

“Even if that’s the case, the situation has changed,” he said, lacing his fingers together between his knees. “I got word from Ops that there were attempted hacks into multiple independent identification networks for a ‘Nicolas Foster.’”

Omicron struggled up onto his elbows. 

.. So, they were onto him. At the very least, they were wary of his cover. This wasn’t entirely unexpected. At the agency they explored every outcome, including this one. Josaline Jewel was a suspected cyber criminal. She was rich enough, powerful enough, smart enough to avoid the law. They’d chased her for years. This outcome wasn’t unexpected, but it still ripped a hole through Omicron’s sails.

All this work, he thought, blinking away a sting behind his eyes. For nothing? Because I wasn’t good enough?

“Don’t despair,” Delta commanded. “The hacks left traces and the cyber team is on it. It’s possible they’ll identify a source, and if they do, we can hack them back. This is a victory.”

It didn’t feel like one. Omicron slouched against the headboard, sniffling and sniffling as he compartmentalized any emotions he felt on the matter. Hopefully the others would attribute it to his cold. He nodded at Delta’s words, casting around for his tissue box. He’d knocked it off the bed at some point. Anita silently fetched it from the floor. 

“Intel also shows that they have not left the resort,” Delta continued, gaze glued to Omicron as the man piled tissues under his nostrils. “This suggests they either found nothing dubious in your cover, which I doubt, or…” 

Here, Delta paused and gave his subordinate a little ‘go on’ wave. Omicron flushed, but did as he was told. One big, trembling breath and then a gurgling nose blow. As always, it was much louder than he wanted and yet again he asked himself what unspeakable deed he’d done to deserve this level of karmic retribution. His nose didn’t feel refreshed afterward; rather, it was peeved. He wrinkled the bridge against a dull, undulating tickle.

“Or?” he prompted.

“Or.. they know you’re not who you say you are, but want to meet with you anyway.”

.. Could they be that horny? Omicron mused, swatching the length of his forefinger back and forth beneath restless nostrils. He recalled his time with Josaline by the pool. Yes, probably.

Sniffling, he asked, “Does this chhh..change anything?” 

“They didn’t hack our network directly, so they have no idea what your true identity is or who you work for,” Delta said. “But the nature of the encounter will be unpredictable.”

Red-rimmed eyes tightened at the corners and he gave up on the finger method in favor of tissues. He spoke as he gathered them, his voice wavering into breathier territory as the tickle took shape.

“I c-.. cahhn.. hh..handle unpredict-t.. tahbBBZZSH!” He caught it one handed, not bothering to open his eyes as he lowered the tissues just enough to continue as he contended with an encore. “.. I can handle that.. hhah..” A sharp sniffle. “.. but I doubt they’d t-.. they’d tehh.. hih!PPZSH’uh!.. nguh, tell mbe adythi’g..”

“Well about that, bless you, we need them occupied and away from electronics if we attempt a hack.”

Omicron squinted over his tissues. “So I’d be..”

“A distraction, yes.”

The original mission was to extract incriminating information from the target, but considering the new variables at play, this new directive would be just as effective. Honestly, with this cold, Omicron wasn’t sure he could finesse a subtle interrogation with stellar results. Acting as smoke and mirrors for the cyber team, however.. 

“..hh!uhh.. hHT-”

That, he could definitely do.

“-DZSSh’oo!”

/tbc!

Next up, the big date!! ♨️ Apologies to anyone who was hoping for the threesome this chapter 😅 Had to indulge my rabid desire for hurt/comfort lol. A big huge thank you to anyone reading who’s stuck around!! My next update might be a little slow because of work stuff, but hoping to have it up in a decent time frame. See you soon! 🥰

PART 4 IS HERE!

[spiciestmango]

Even More Obscure Kinks Ask Game :3 🔎

Feel free to add on to this- pls do actually im having a hard time finding more and more kinks and my pupbrain doesnt hold onto info very well!! (also please be mindful of people's limits!)

Everything assumes adults having either fantasy, roleplay or full consent of all parties even when stated otherwise yadda yadda yadda yall know how to be safe in kink im not your sex ed teacher

Milder Section (For stuff that is still fun to ask abt but isnt that obscure in the grand scheme of things!)

Facefucking or Facesitting

Breathplay or Sensory depravation

Biting or Scratching

Somnophillia or Intox sex

Kigurumi/Onesie or Job Uniform (Nurse, Mailperson, etc)

Latex or Leather

Intercrural sex or Dry humping

Felching or Snowballing

Authority Figure or Monster/Alien

Robots or Undead

Age play or Pet play

Fauxest or Fauxbeast

Dacryphillia or Sexual obsession

Crotch Spanking or Crotch Worship

Pool/Hot tub sex or Sex in the wilderness

Edging or Overstim

Stuckage or Leash pulling

Sex While Pregnant or Guaranteed Impregnation

On display for an audience or All hands on you

Omorashi or Piss Drinking

Cum Marking or Piss marking

Pissing inside orifice or Public Pissing

Knotted or Equine cocks

Barbed or Tapered cocks

Tentacles or Alien genitals

Queefing or Farting

Hands or Feet

Squirting or Lactation

Thighs or Tummy

Underwear gag or O-Ring gag

Pain/Blood/Fear section (Some gore-y themes warning)

31. Period Sex or Drawing Blood Elsewhere 32. Cupping or Waxplay 33. Electrostimulation or Temperature Play 34. Cattle Branding or Name Carving 35. Gunplay or Knifeplay 36. Figging or Flogging 37. Medplay or Kidnapping 38. Blackmail or CBT 39. Tummy punches or Nipple clamps 40. Spanked until bruised or Hickeys everywhere 41. Quadruped Suit or Gimp 42. Pinwheel or Ice 43. Spiked paddle or Caning 44. Anal punishment or Kicking 45. Ball squeezing or Cock Pulling 46. New Piercing or Wound Stinging (With lemon, alcohol, etc) 47. Orgasm from spanking or Orgasm from Biting 48. Vivisection or Woundfucking 49. Waterboarding or Chained torture 50. Cigarette/Blunt/Joint burning or Predicament Bondage

Wilder Section (Stuff you might not see often!)

51. Vacbed or Claustrophilia 52. Forced Exposure or Unknowing Participant 53. Crush Fetish or Spinning Fetish 54. Pullups or Puppypads 55. Sneeze induced orgasm or Hypno trigger induced orgasm 56. Foodplay or Mysophilia 57. Lithophilia or Pygmalionism 58. Oviposition or Improvised Sex toy 59. Plant sex or Primal play 59. Locked in clothing or Locked out of bathroom 60. Sex with Planes or Sex with Trains 61. Bound together or Suspension play 62. IRL Hypnosis tracks or Clicker Training 63. Rapebaiting or Public Stealth Toy 64. 24 hour insertion or 24/7 servitude 65. Ponyplay or Cattleplay 66. Sybian or Through wall 67. Boofing or Forcefeed 68. Stock/Pillory or Hogtied 69. Navel sex or Armpit sex 70. Emetophilia or Nasophilia

Fantasy Section (Stuff that you probably cant even come close to replicating or cosplaying IRL)

71. Macro or Micro 72. Pooltoy Transformation or Plushie Transformation 73. Mummification or Cobweb bondage 74. Parasitic Pregnancy or Alternate Pregnancy 75. Living Toy or Oral Vore (this is just regular vore) 76. Unbirth or Anal vore 77. Earfucking or all the way through (ass through mouth) 78. Portalpanties or Voodoo doll 79. TGTF (Not detrans) or Huge size difference (5 ft or more) 80. Knotted and hanging between or Instant egg laying 81. Nullification/Nullcrotch or Amputation Bondage 82. Petrification or Slime absorption 83. Clone gangbang or Selfcest 84. Magic during sex or Being put on the experiment table 85. Instant aphrodisiac or Body swap 86. Crowded public use (Train, Bus, etc) or Cursed Womb Tattoo 87. Feral x Feral or Monster x Monster 88. Cumflation or Other fluid inflation 89. Hypergenitals or Bodily fluid bath 90. Ghost hands or Magical/Alternate cum

Bad ends (Kind of an extension of the fantasy section)

91. Mind Break or Perma Vored (Digested) 92. Permanent Ownership or Perma TF 93. Loss of sentience or Loss of body control 94. Drowned or Bled out 95. No escape from corrupted reality or No escape from compromised mind 96. Torn apart by monster or Experimental mishap 97. Coerced and forced betrayal of a loved one (rape, harm, etc) or That betrayal being done to you without you ever finding out. 98. Slow painful mutation or merging with another being 99. Never finding a way home or Home never being the same 100. Blackmail released to the public or Falsely accused but never believed

BONUS: Pokemon themed section (Because its MY blog and I have the right to invoke the author's poorly disguised fetish in my fetish post 😡)

101. Trainer x Pokemon or Pokemon x Pokemon 102. Type advantage or Level drain 103. Stage 3 evo x Stage 1 evo or Evolution denial (Everstone) 104. Quadruped, Biped or Other 105. Breed till a shiny egg or Status effects during sex 106. Mid-sex evolution or Forced, unwanted evolution 107. Getting Mystery Dungeon'd or TF into pokemon but in the mainline world (You can no longer speak to humans) 108. Raped/passed around by your pokemon team or Team of pokemon specifically for sex 109. Bondage themed moves (Vine whip, Freeze shock, etc) or Coercion themed moves (Hypnosis, attract, etc) 110. Caught in a pokeball or Unremovable pokemon costume

[mutant-distraction]

Zuhairi Avian

Spotted orb weaver spider - Neoscona sp.

Malaysia, Damansara | 03 February 2025 | OMD E-M1 MKII | Zuico 60mm macro | Meike Extension Tube 10mm | Godox TT520II | ZyMacro2 diffuser (DIY) | Crop & Editing LR | Handheld / Single Shot | DoP 040225

[housemdork]

house md rewatch: 2x12, "distractions"

kinda messed up of them to pair such a traumatic patient story with one of house md's funniest b-plots (imo).

oops, all gregory house!

it was smart of them to ease us into house's mega-destructive tendencies through humor first. season 7 would only be more jarring if we didn't have such an extensive lead-up. and i just love this episode. the goofiness is refreshing, but it doesn't lose its poignancy by the end, wilson looks cute, cuddy is here (for once), the fellows are exhibiting genuine teamwork and bond over concern for house, and house trips balls.

on the whole, i think this episode is about layers - quite literally the layers of dead and burned flesh they remove from adam, the patient, and the layers house adds onto himself to avoid confronting his real feelings post-stacy. interestingly, house choice to disprove his nemesis, dr. weber, parallels the same layers he accumulated post-infarction that have led to his misanthropy:

infarction -> self-destructive choice -> pain -> vicodin -> maladaptive behavior.

loss of stacy -> self-destructive choices -> induced pain -> LSD -> maladaptive behavior.

on the nose though it may be, like i said, it's an important precursor to the ever-increasing number of instances where he does Dumb Shit.

i also appreciate that this episode reaffirms wilson's harsh reality check from the end of 2x11; it wasn't just wilson blowing off steam, but a real condemnation of house's worst behaviors. he reminded house that, while he doesn't like himself, house admires himself because of his intellect. the misery he is so quick to infect other people with comes part and parcel with that intellect, so the fact that he threatened his very way of thinking by dropping acid says a lot about his state rn. but by proving dr. weber wrong, he hopes to regain his surety in himself & deflect the pain he feels in coming at him from all sides.

and it's his guilt over waking up adam and putting him in excruciating pain that motivates him to "take something." his haunted expression here is hard to miss:

this reminds me of, again, what he tells wilson in 1x22 about stacy - does he want "to be with her" or to see her "suffer?" 2x12 features this dilemma in a macro scale; does house want to solve this case in the name of doctorly altruism, or is he solving it for selfish reasons, to regain his sense of self?

i love the following visuals that highlighted house's isolation in spite of the overly colorful bathroom tiles. his cane is the darkest streak of color, or lack thereof, and it makes his half of the shot weighted. the perspective is somewhat bent towards house, like the gravity of the room is spilling out of the open shower stall, plopping house on the outside. very disorienting!

cameron's introduction into the scene is a shock of reality. the red of her shirt is the kind of striking visual that house wants to avoid during his pseudo-migraine. she also breaks up the otherwise solid rule-of-thirds in the previous shot, representing another mote of disruption.

house's parting words to cuddy are even another layer deeper/better than what they seem at first. he describes how he took a cocktail of everything to counteract every modicum of pain incurred by the migraine drug test run until he arrived at equilibrium: "the universe always settles the score," he claims, until retracting with "no, but it should."

what i like about this is what it says about house's balance, or lack thereof. i was worried throughout my first watch of 2x12 that one of the various substances house was taking would interact with his vicodin. that's house balance, a layer of separation attempting to hold his disparate pieces together; in his mind, those pieces are pre and post infarction. wilson - again, however harsh and one the nose - was right when he reminded house that he "gets distracted by pain." i'd even wager that, on top of pain being a distraction, the puzzle of how to avoid/mitigate it is equally as distracting.

also - this was cute. fake ass bitch. i saw how you undercut your mean lecture with a loving action, which we've textually established means more in the way of love than any kind words do.

i'm gonna bullet point the remainder of my notes since 2x12 is mostly made up of moments that i like, rather than a super cohesive message:

cameron, chase, and foreman being mutually concerned over house in the cutest way possible. this is a rare instance of them all agreeing on something - to be worried about him. i also love how they all insist on disliking each other at different points in the show because moments like this remind me of how silly that is.

this is the funniest scene ever. or at least it's very high up there. wilson walks in with the following agenda: listening to nothing dr. weber has to say; pretend to be mad that house is going to do something disruptive; enjoy every second of that disruptive thing; reminisce about his weird med school history. thanks for the exposition, james!

one moment, house and foreman are walking down the hallways alone. in the blink of an eye, cameron and chase just materialize wordlessly behind them.

the introduction that house cheated off weber, though to no avail, strikes an unexpected and almost uncomfortable chord with the audience who presumed, basically by instruction from the show, that he was infallible in that department.

foreman hands house his cane after they both had a physical altercation in the sterile room where house was trying to wake foreman up again. i love how that gesture is filled with so much solidarity yet it so casual. the idea that there's a literal weight in house's leg, alleviated somewhat by his cane, that's then alleviated by receiving the cane from his friends? goes crazy.

he's even clutching at the wall for support before foreman arrives.

finally, the introduction of House's Hookers. i don't like this moment, per se, but it's a plot thread that stands the test of time, and undercuts the lighthearted tone of this episode in general.

overall? 10/10 from me in terms of just general Viewing Pleasure. tons of episodes deliver way more punch, emotional depth, and drama, but i think i've seen 2x12 more than any other house md episode apart from 5x04 and 8x20. another installment in my strange collection of favorites, i'm sure.

[olis-inkwell-symposium]

5 Occult Concepts That Explain the World Better Than Science

Throughout my extensive research into occult philosophy, I’ve been fortunate to gain a ton of knowledge that has truly enriched my understanding of the world. This journey has been deeply personal, as it has allowed me to explore the hidden corners of my mind and connect with a broader spiritual and philosophical landscape.

What I’ve come to realize during this time is profound: if the world weren’t so rigid and complex, we could all live and practice our lives in such diverse and meaningful ways that are truly personalized to our unique needs and desires. This realization has inspired me to seek out a more balanced and harmonious existence, one that embraces the individuality and creativity that lie within each of us. It’s also motivated me to share this knowledge with you all, hoping to spark a similar sense of wonder and empowerment in your own lives!

Now don’t get me wrong; science is brilliant at breaking things down—atoms, ecosystems, the expansion of the universe. It gives us answers, solutions, and a framework to navigate the physical world. But let’s be honest: science often trips over itself when trying to explain the messy, intangible, and deeply human parts of existence.

The cracks where logic doesn’t fit? That’s where the occult slips in. Occult philosophy thrives on the edges of understanding. It doesn’t just ask “how”—it asks “why,” “what if,” and “what does this mean for me?” While science maps reality in clean, objective terms, the occult dives into the subjective, the mysterious, and the uncomfortable truths that can’t be measured in a lab.

Here are five esoteric concepts that, in their raw and provocative nature, offer a far more compelling explanation of the world than science ever could:

1. As Above, So Below: The Reflective Nature of Reality

This phrase is a cornerstone of hermetic philosophy, a cryptic little mantra that implies the micro mirrors the macro, and vice versa. In simpler terms: the structure of the universe can be seen in the structure of a single human life.

Science has its own version of this idea in fractals and self-similarity across scales—patterns that replicate endlessly from the molecular level to the cosmic. But where science stops at structure, the occult digs deeper.

As above, so below isn’t just a reflection of patterns; it’s a commentary on how everything—your struggles, desires, and choices—ties into larger systems. Your internal chaos mirrors societal chaos. A broken relationship might reflect a deeper imbalance in your worldview. It’s not just poetic metaphor; it’s a map for self-awareness.

When science shrugs at the meaning of human patterns, the occult says, Look closer. What’s happening out there is happening in here, too.

2. The Law of Correspondence: Connection Beyond Logic

Occult philosophy insists that nothing exists in isolation. Every force, event, or idea has a counterpart. Correspondence suggests that unrelated things—symbols, objects, emotions—are part of an invisible web of connection. You lose something important, and suddenly, you’re flooded with strange coincidences that feel almost intentional.

What science brushes off as statistical anomalies, the occult embraces as part of the design. For example, synchronicity—the idea that unrelated events can feel meaningfully connected—is often dismissed by science as cognitive bias.

Yet, anyone who’s experienced these “coincidences” knows they carry a weight science can’t quantify. Correspondence doesn’t just explain why these events happen; it dares to ask what they mean. It argues that your personal reality is shaped not just by physical actions but by symbols, metaphors, and the unseen forces tying them all together.

3. The Hermetic Principle of Polarity: Duality Without Simplicity

In science, opposites are defined by contrast: positive and negative, light and dark, heat and cold. The occult, however, sees polarity not as opposition but as two ends of the same spectrum. Hot and cold, for instance, are both expressions of temperature; they’re not enemies, just different manifestations of the same underlying force.

The principle of polarity teaches that extremes are always interconnected. Love and hate, joy and grief—they aren’t separate forces battling for dominance. They’re two expressions of the same energy. This doesn’t just help explain emotional complexity; it’s a tool for navigating life. Feeling overwhelmed by fear?

Polarity suggests that courage isn’t its opposite—it’s a reframing of the same energy. Science is great at measuring extremes, but it struggles with the liminal space between them. The occult lives in that in-between, showing how the line between opposites is much thinner than it seems.

4. The Rule of Threefold Return: Consequence Beyond Physics

Karma often gets watered down into a pop-culture idea of “what goes around comes around.” But the occult’s threefold law takes it further, suggesting that every action—good, bad, or indifferent—comes back with amplified force.

Cast harm into the world, and harm returns not as punishment but as a natural ripple of that consequence. Put good into the world, and its return carries exponential weight. Science traditionally examines phenomena through straightforward cause-and-effect relationships, often focusing on linear progressions where one event leads directly to another.

However, it often struggles to capture the complex and layered nature of our decisions, which can produce effects that multiply and interact in unexpected ways. Our actions as humans don't just create simple, predictable outcomes; they can initiate chains of events that grow in complexity and impact over time, creating a web of consequences that are difficult to predict or quantify using standard scientific methods.

Why does a single act of kindness resonate so deeply? Why does unchecked anger spiral into unforeseen consequences? The occult’s perspective on consequences isn’t moralistic; it’s mechanical. This concept is as much about accountability as it is about empowerment. It forces you to think beyond the immediate result of your actions, asking: What are the ripples I’m setting in motion?

5. The Alchemical Process: Transformation as a Cycle

Alchemy is often reduced to the pursuit of turning lead into gold—a quaint historical footnote in science’s evolution. But true alchemy was never just about metal. It was—and still is—a philosophy of transformation. Lead and gold are metaphors for the self. The base material (lead) represents the parts of you that are raw, unformed, and heavy. Gold is the refined self—lighter, brighter, and forged through struggle.

Science can tell you how cells regenerate, how the brain processes trauma, how habits form. But alchemy explains the why behind transformation. It frames struggle not as a problem to be solved but as an integral part of growth.

Calcination, dissolution, and coagulation form the stages of a chemical journey that mirrors the human experience of transformation and self-discovery. The process begins with calcination, a fiery purification that strips away the unnecessary, burning away the dross to reveal the essential core beneath. This is a time of intense reflection, where one begins to cast aside the illusions and impurities accumulated over time.

Next comes dissolution, a stage of deep introspection where old structures and beliefs are broken down. It is a time for letting go of outdated habits and ideas, much like dissolving bonds that once seemed unbreakable. This phase requires courage, as it involves dismantling one's protective barriers, leaving behind comfort zones to explore the unfamiliar.

Finally, there's coagulation, the phase of reconstruction. Here, from the remnants of the past, something new and robust is forged. It's the alchemical rebirth, where a person emerges transformed, having integrated the lessons learned from the previous stages. This rebuilding is not simply a return to the original state, but an evolution into an entity more aligned with one’s true self.

Through each stage, the journey can be deeply personal, reflecting a unique path of self-awareness and growth. Calcination, dissolution, and coagulation are not merely chemical stages but serve as a profound blueprint for personal evolution, guiding one towards a deeper understanding of themselves and the world around them.

This transformative cycle encourages embracing change, fostering resilience, and celebrating the unfolding of a renewed identity. Where science provides explanations, alchemy offers profound meaning. It asserts that transformation isn’t merely possible—it’s inevitable, provided you’re willing to endure the transformative fire.

Why the Occult Makes You Ask Better Questions

Science excels at answers. It gives us the tools, cures, and frameworks to navigate the tangible. But answers, for all their value, are useless without the right questions. This is where the occult shines. It doesn’t care about tidy conclusions; it cares about pulling you deeper into the unknown, daring you to challenge what you think you understand.

Occult principles don’t aim to replace science—they simply just… fill in its gaps. They explain not just the mechanics of life but the meaning, the purpose, the strange and chaotic connections that defy logic.

They don’t seek to fix the world; they ask what the world is asking of you. And sometimes, just by asking the right question; life is far more enjoyable than always trying to find the answers.

taglist ; dm or reply to be added 🫶🏾

@slenders1ckn3ss @lucistarsfire @mai2themai @fond-illusion @p00lverinecentral @ambidextrousarcher

[rosanacafe]

Smile more, please! por Rosana Por Flickr: For Macro Mondays: "April Fools" Helios 58mm f2 + Extension tubes

[ataleofcrowns]

hi i'm so sorry but if you feel like it could you help explain how to create a codex page in twine... i've just started figuring out twine and i'm extremely lost

There may be easier ways to do this, so mind you that I can only explain to you how I did it way back when I first made AToC. I'll start from the beginning, since I'm not sure how much you have or haven't figured out yet. I'm also not especially adept with coding, I just know enough basics to help me along!

Mind you these are instructions for Sugarcube, I don't know anything about Harlowe. You will need to know how <<if>> macros, variables and links work in order to understand this explanation.

First, if you want your codex links to show up in your sidebar, you need to create a passage called StoryMenu, which is where you can drop the links to your codex passages.

Further, if you only want the links to show up after the player has reached a certain point in the story, the easiest way I figured out how to do it is to create a variable.

Let's say, you only want your Character Codex to unlock after a player has reached a certain passage in the main story, then you should create a variable for it (e.g. $charcodex). At the passage where you want the codex to unlock, simply set $charcodex to true, and in your StoryMenu passage, qualify the link to the Character Codex with a simple <<if>> macro.

This is an example of what the StoryMenu of a very early build of AToC looked like:

Very basic! For AToC's current build, it looks a lot more complicated as I'm using a template with additional CSS code for formatting. I'm sure there's other ways to do it as well, but I'm not particularly adept with code so this is what worked easiest for me.

So, you've created your Character Codex, and it shows up in your StoryMenu, what now? Simple: just link to individual passages in your Character Codex however you want to format it. Like so:

There's a whole host of ways to format individual codex pages depending on your needs, like images or basic CSS code, but I won't get into that right now, you should be able to find tutorials for that!

Another important note: make sure to include the following code to your Javacript section, under the "Story" tab of the menu in Twine. It prevents players from getting caught in a loop of passages while they're going through the codex pages and the main story:

// MAKING SURE RETURN TO GAME LINKS DON'T CREATE A LOOP $(document).on(":passagestart", function() { if (!tags().includes("noreturn")) { /* If it doesn't, then set $return to the current passage name. */ State.variables.return = passage(); } });

This code requires you to tag any codex passages, both menus and individual ones, with "noreturn", like this:

Hope that explanation helped you!!

But, as I said, I'm not particularly skilled with coding. For future reference, if you need more coding resources, I would recommend checking out @/nyehilismwriting, @/idrellegames, and @/manonamora-if who have all set up extensive masterlists for coding resources or have answered questions from others that may be useful to you!

[gym-x-plus]

QUAD DAY // 4 exercises ✔️

Excited to say my Train Like Me series is officially live in the MMF App 📲

You can now follow my exact training plan (or choose from others in the app), alongside personalised calories/ macros based on your goals, shred/ build guides, recipes, tons of education and more 🫶🏼

Providing you all the tools you need to achieve your goals and transform your health and fitness journey - 🔗 in bio

——

Workout:

Heel elevated smith machine squats

Deficit Bulgarian split squat

Leg extension

Seated adductions

©️Credit ig @millie_marshall

Fit is @dfyne.official code MILLIE

#fit #fitness #fitgirl #fitnessgirl #gym #fitnessmodel #workout #squat #sportgirl #abs #glute #glutesworkout #glutegains #hip #leg #legs #legday #cardio #core #body #bodypositive #bodybuilding #bodygoals #backtraining #walking #beach #bikini #bikinimodel

[dragonflycap]

What to expect from the stock market this week

Last week, the review of the macro market indicators saw with October in the books and heading into the election and FOMC meeting, equity markets experienced a Halloween spooking. Elsewhere looked for Gold ($GLD) to continue its uptrend while Crude Oil ($USO) consolidated at the bottom of a broad range. The US Dollar Index ($DXY) looked to consolidate in its uptrend while US Treasuries ($TLT) pulled back in their consolidation. The Shanghai Composite ($ASHR) looked to continue the short term move higher while Emerging Markets ($EEM) pulled back in their uptrend.

The Volatility Index ($VXX) looked to remain at a neutral level, above the base established this year, and was likely to stay there at least until after the election. This might make for choppy light trading for equity markets to start next week. Their charts looked strong on the longer timeframe though. On the shorter timeframe both the $QQQ and $SPY had reset momentum measures lower and could reverse or turn bearish, likely a couple of days’ time would tell. The $IWM did not seem concerned about an election or Fed policy, churning sideways.

The week saw major movements happen following the election. It played out with Gold pulling back from its high Wednesday before a partial recovery while Crude Oil found some strength and moved higher in a choppy range. The US Dollar jumped to a 4 month high while Treasuries fell back to a 5½ month low Wednesday before a recovery. The Shanghai Composite continued the move to the upside while Emerging Markets chopped in a wide range.

Volatility crashed down to the low end of the range since August. This put a stiff breeze at the backs of equities and they started to move up Tuesday and then accelerated Wednesday through the end of the week. This resulted in the SPY and QQQ printing a new all-time highs Wednesday, Thursday and Friday and the IWM gapping up to a 1 year high. What does this mean for the coming week? Let’s look at some charts.

The SPY came into the week at the 50 day SMA on the daily chart in a pullback from the top. It had a gap left open from the end of the week. It held there on Monday and then started higher Tuesday, into the gap. It gapped up Wednesday to finish at a new all-time high and leaving an island below. It followed that up with new all-time highs Thursday and Friday. The Bollinger Bands® are open to the upside. The RSI is rising deep in the bullish zone with the MACD positive and rising.

The weekly chart shows a strong, long bullish candle rising from the 161.8% extension of the retracement of the 2022 drop. The 200% extension is now within view at 614 above. The RSI is rising near overbought territory in the bullish zone with the MACD drifting up and positive. There is no resistance above 599.60. Support lower sits at 585 and 580 then 574.50 and 571.50 before 565.50 and 556.50. Uptrend.

With the Presidential Election and November FOMC meeting in the rearview mirror, equity markets showed jubilation as they vaulted higher. Elsewhere look for Gold to in its uptrend while Crude Oil consolidates in a broad range. The US Dollar Index continues to move to the upside while US Treasuries consolidate in their pullback. The Shanghai Composite looks to continue the move higher while Emerging Markets chop in their short term uptrend.

The Volatility Index looks to remain low and drifting lower following the election making it easier for equity markets to continue higher. Their charts look strong on both timeframes, especially the SPY and QQQ. The IWM has now joined the party, a stone’s throw away from making its first new all-time high in 2 years. Use this information as you prepare for the coming week and trad’em well.

Join the Premium Users and you can view the Full Version with 20 detailed charts and analysis: Macro Week in Review/Preview November 8, 2024

[sirfrogsworth]

I have some guys here taking pictures of my mom's stuff. Yesterday I noticed they put a white cloth over our big kitchen light. "Oh, is that for diffusion?" I thought it was a clever hack to get softer light for their product photos. They were surprised I knew what it was for. I told them I was a photographer. I mentioned I actually had a bunch of special plastic that I use for diffusion. One mentioned he had an interest in photography and was curious about my diffusion material.

He told me about his camera and how he wished he had a better one so he could take better pictures of jewelry for his job. I didn't say anything, but his camera was fine. All modern cameras are fine. Smartphones are even fine. If he wants better pictures of jewelry and whatnot, he needs to learn about lighting. I didn't want to correct him, but I thought maybe if I showed him my lighting setup with the plastic he was interested in, that might send him on the path to better pictures.

So today I brought out my computer and showed him some examples of my product photography and my lighting setup with the diffusion plastic. But once he saw my photos his attitude changed very quickly. He acted like he suddenly lost interest. I found this really odd.

The leader of the group asked to see the pictures. He was impressed and wished his auction photos could look that good. I told him my approach would not work for the assembly line style photos he needs to do, but there was a different approach that might work. I showed him the Karl Taylor light cone.

You just put two lights on either side and take a picture through the hole in the top. You get wonderful gradient lighting with almost no effort and you could create a system to take many photos very quickly.

He was very interested and asked his friend, "Have you seen this light cone? You should also look at all of these product photos he did. They're amazing."

He was once again dismissive and uninterested. And it was then I figured out his issue.

Jealousy.

I kept trying to explain the cone and lighting to the leader and the other guy would say, "Yeah, I already knew that. I just need a better camera is all"

The leader then made me show him my photos and I already knew it was a bad idea, but I was kind of stuck. I showed him more of my product photos of bottles and jewelry and he was like, "Yeah, I could do that. That's called a "sexy bottle shot." I've done that. I just need a better camera."

He was in pain seeing my photos. I'm pretty sure he felt like I was showing him up. Asserting photo dominance. And that was never my intention. I just wanted to share what I knew. I was excited to meet another person with the same interest. But that turned into an awkward and jealous dismissiveness and he did not want to know how I got the results I was forced to show him.

And then, despite the dismissive lack of interest, he says under his breath, "What kind of camera are you using?"

After all the awkwardness, he still didn't catch on to the lesson I was trying to teach.

It is not the camera.

"I just need something to get better closeups."

I should have kept my mouth shut after that. I already knew he didn't want to listen to what I had to say. But I also felt bad that this guy was going to buy an entire new camera and lens to get the same results he is getting now. And so I was like, "Have you heard of macro extension tubes?"

"Oh yeah, I know about them."

He did not.

"You can get some of those and put them on any lens you have and get really great close up shots. Works even on a cheap $100 lens."

"Yeah, I've seen those. Not sure they're what I need. I just need a better camera."

Oof.