#Argentine Noise

[inportant-spam-rsvp]

the way you draw The Noise makes him look sooo fine

I want him to rizz me up

I also adore the sketch you made of him and Noisette snuggling

Can I request some Noise n Noisette fluff? Just being a cute couple?

If not, maybe just The Noise being a rizzler?

I would like to thoroughly apologize for how long this took to respond to. Being living garbage is hard work-

But I did manage to make one of your requests!

[elbiotipo]

I can't do a more deep opinion on this orca thing because yeah one can say "go orcas!", it feels good, doesn't it?...

but in fact those must be very scattered cases that won't change the fact that the current situation is that ocean transport is noisy, it's everywhere, and it must be driving these very, very sensitive animals crazy. Before motors, a whale could listen to what was happening in South Africa from the Argentine coast. Now their range of communication must have dropped to only a few kilometers: moreover, all the noise must be insane. There have been studies saying that even things like lawnmowers can make permanent ear damage to small rodents, and birds have had to adapt to city noises (their songs changed to a more "natural" pattern during the pandemic lockdowns) So I can't imagine what such things must be doing to the minds of orcas, one of the animals with the most complex and intelligent behavior registered outside of primates, and extremely sensitive to sound. Can we even understand what they're going through right now.

And this is not to mention the widespread whale (baleen whales, not orcas) hunting that decimated their populations to an absurd degree. All the world is currently going through a beyond worrying trend of defaunation, but whales were particulary hurt. There were 250.000 (estimated) blue whales before whaling, and they were decimated to less than 2000. Even today, with strict conservation measures, there's around 10-25k blue whales, and that's one species. Let that sink in.

Is there a solution to this, besides returning to the age of sail and banning ocean explotation? I don't know, there might be. I hope there is.

When I read about orcas, about their behavior, about their pods with their own almost cultural quirks and even dialects, so much we don't know about them, I only remember Arthur C. Clarke, when he spoke about blue whales: “We do not know the true nature of the entities we are destroying”

[cryptid-quest]

Cryptid of the Day: Argentina Gnome

Description: On March 11th, 2008, The Sun picked up a report from an Argentine newspaper about a gnome. At 1:00 am, a group of teens heard a noise and filmed an encounter with a tiny biped with a pointy hat.

[sassycheesecake]

Here’s part 2 for this OS <3

It’s currently 3:24 am and you’re puking up the dinner you had earlier.

Again.

It’s been going on for two to three weeks already, you can’t keep any sort of food down, certain smells make you nauseous, you feel like you can hear people blinking.

It’s driving you crazy.

Unfortunately you have to deal with it by yourself, since your boyfriend and love of your life, Atsumu Miya, Setter of the MSBY Jackals is currently out of the country for an away game.

He doesn’t know about your ongoing illness, since he is busy with winning games and training, most of the time not being able to video call you, just checking in on you by texting.

You’re not stupid, you know what’s going on with you.

Atsumu and you were a little irresponsible when he was packing for traveling to Argentine.

Little meaning, no condom during sex. You do take birth control but you only started taking it about two months ago.

The blonde wanted to feel everything inside of you and you wanted to feel all of Atsumu, no barrier in between.

So you went to your gynecologist and got a prescription for birth control.

Just when you were finishing up after getting the indigested food out of you, you phone plays 'Problem’ by Natalia Kills, indicating that Atsumu is calling you.

Groaning in irritation, you accept it nonetheless.

"Hey baby! Wanted ta call in an’ ask how ya doin’."

"Hey Tsumu. 'M doing good, I was just sleeping." You lied.

"Oh sorry, ya wan’ me ta let ya go?" Atsumu asked with understanding.

"No it’s okay, tell me how Argentine is." You smile, while walking back to bed.

The Setter excitedly tells you all about Argentine, about the weather, the food, the people and the team he is currently training with.

A former famous Setter of a Japanese High School is now the Setter of the Argentinian national team and Atsumu complains to you about how overconfident annoying and cocky he is.

Sounds like someone you know.

All of sudden, you can feel your stomach getting upset again, nausea hitting you like a truck.

"Hold on Tsumu-" You manage to choke out before you toss your phone to the side, running to the bathroom.

On the other side of the world, Atsumu can hear your vomiting noises and it causes the Setter to worry deeply.

He lays in his hotel bed, waiting for you to come back.

After a few minutes, he can hear your footsteps approaching and taking your phone back into your hand.

"Sorry about that, I uhh… almost burned my food and the smell of smoke made me nauseous." You lie once again.

But Atsumu doesn’t believe any of it.

"Baby, I heard ya pukin‘ yer guts out. Ya sure yer fine? Did ya eat somethin' bad?" The Setter asks worryingly.

"It may have been the paella I made earlier Tsum. I‘ll be fine."

"Well if ya say so. Please keep me updated an‘ if there’s somethin‘ wrong, call me an' I‘ll be on the first flight home."

"Sure honey. Have fun and take care of yourself while you’re still there. Say hi to everyone for me."

"Will do baby, love ya."

Hanging up, you take a nice and warm shower, getting ready for bed once again.

You press Atsumu‘s pillow to your face, his remaining scent fills your nose.

You miss his stupid jokes, his strong arms that hold you in your sleep and his soft chocolate-brown eyes that shine love and warmth only for you.

Little did you know, Atsumu and his team return tomorrow already, instead of staying another week.

And Atsumu is keeping it a surprise, just as much as you have a surprise for him to tell when he comes back home.

[sashimiyas]

cw: suggestive content

“Harder, Iwa-chan, harder!”

“If you don’t shut your shitty mouth, Shittykawa.” Said man dodges an attack, one that consists of his toiletries bag thrown at him. It’s a foreseeable event because Iwaizumi’s predictable in that sense. He’s always been that way, structured, routine, disciplined.

“If you got all your shit together before we left and didn’t reopen it, we wouldn’t be here,” he complains.

“But I had to get out my passport,” Oikawa says while pulling harder on the zipper of his suitcase while his best friend pushes it closed, “and my face mask.”

“You’re a headache to this day.”

“But you had so much fun while I visited, right?”

Silence.

“Right?”

Your husband decides to focus on the task at hand, pressing his full weight onto Oikawa’s suitcase. Oikawa though, he’s taken to pouting into his best friend’s avoiding gaze. He weaves his head back and forth like a boxer dodging punches, while Iwaizumi cranes his neck to look at anything else but him.

“Yes, Tooru, we had so much fun while you were here,” you supply. The conversation won’t move until one of their stubborn butts budge and traffic is building behind you at this drop-off lane.

The brunette grins while your husband gives you a betrayed glare.

“Fine, fine,” Oikawa waves flippantly and goes back to the task at hand. He slides the zipper suspiciously easily. The Argentine setter then stands, a smug look upon his pretty face that you’ve learned to smile at, albeit while you roll your eyes. “I’ll visit for the holidays. You don’t have to beg.

Iwaizumi crosses his arms, staring at his best friend, and says, “sure, whatever.”

Both you and Oikawa know what that means. He looks to you, touched, and you return with an adored grin because for as much of a headache Oikawa is, he is family.

“Bye, Tooru!” you wave from your open window while your husband gives his friend one final hug. “Be safe! Let us know when you land.”

He waves back, already slowly walking away with his bright pink neck pillow latched onto his nape, “I’ll be updating you from the lounge with a glass of champagne and then from the plane with my free wifi.”

“Just when you land,” your husband tries to emphasize as he pushes his wide body over the middle console to yell out your side of the vehicle.

“Can’t hear you Iwa-chan! Bye! Love you!”

You watch the way your husband stiffens, how his lips thin into a line, suppressing the words that you know want to come out. So you nudge his shoulder. He looks at you with faux ignorance, one that says what but you know he knows what. You glare at him with your eyes and though Iwaizumi is strong at his core, he is weak to the ones he loves. And that includes Oikawa.

Iwaizumi groans as if the labor is difficult, but he stretches even further over your lap to get closer to your window, “bye! Love you!”

There’s a startled pause in Oikawa’s step. The two of you watch as he stands there for just a moment, a hand coming to his face and you can imagine it’s to hide his expression, whatever it may be. You’re guessing it’s elation.

Then, with his shoulders back and head high, Oikawa passes through the automatic doors and his figure is lost to the crowd.

Your husband returns to sit back in his seat properly. He signals to merge back into traffic, the sound of the clicking the only thing noise filling the car as the two of you fall back into the quiet routine of partnership.

“That wasn’t as bad as I thought.”

You nod, “no, it wasn’t. Terminal wasn’t busy.”

“Yeah, and there wasn’t any traffic.”

“Do we need to stop by anywhere while we’re here?”

“I don’t think so.”

It’s mundane. It’s boring. It’s nothing like how the past week has felt with Oikawa visiting. Though the silence is very welcome, it is a reminder that Oikawa is already missed.

But with the athlete gone, it also means the two of you are finally alone. And that means—

Your husband places a palm on your thigh. He does it effortlessly while he looks over his right shoulder to check for a blind spot before changing into a different lane.

He inhales deeply. It’s the kinds he does when he needs a little peace, ones he’d take right before knocking on your door when you first started dating, the one he needed to provide courage to get on one knee.

You look to him, sun shining spectacularly on his bronze skin as excitement builds in your chest because you know.

You think of the way Iwaizumi’s eyes had lingered on your body last night when you said you were off to sleep while he was still busy helping Oikawa pick an airport outfit. You think of how he bit his lips while you grabbed his ass when he went on for a kiss while Oikawa had quickly gone to use the bathroom. You remember the words he’d whisper into your ear when Oikawa wasn’t listening.

“Are we about to go home and have hot, crazy, tantric se—”

The beautiful man keeps his eyes on the road but he grips your thigh tighter. In his assured and seductive tone, as always, he gives you what you want.

"Fuck yes."

[madame-fear]

sending kuku dirty texts in a room full of the rest of LSDLN cast 😶‍🌫️

𐙚 𝐃𝐈𝐑𝐓𝐘, 𝐃𝐈𝐑𝐓𝐘.

ೀ amira speaks! : two fics in one day?? zoo wee mama! anyways,, (n/n) means ((your) (nickname),, enjoy this my baby! 😘 ˗ˏˋ ꒰ summary : request above. ♡ ˗ˏˋ ꒰ word count : 503.

˗ˏˋ ꒰ genre : suggestiveness, mentions of smut, drabble. ˗ˏˋ ꒰ pairing : Esteban Kukuriczka x (fem!)Reader, Matías slightly appearing.

(n/n) 💗 is typing. . .

The Argentine man’s coffee-coloured eyes stared down at his phone attentively, awaiting for your message. Despite his insisting, you preferred to stay at home, rather than go to the small getaway the boys of the cast organised— and your boyfriend respected your decision.

But you still managed to get your fun, somehow.

(n/n) 💗: Kukuuuu (n/n) 💗: Tebiiiii (n/n) 💗: Miss me, darling? Because I do. (n/n) 💗: I wish you were here with me, I feel horny as fuck for you, you have no idea

A warm fluster occupied his face, his pale, freckled skin turning into a crimson haze. Gods, you were such a teasing girl. It was hard for him to ignore such bold texting.

It didn’t matter what the other boys were talking and laughing about, all the background noise faded away, as his eyes were glued to the screen of his phone.

(n/n) 💗: I don’t know where the fuck are you, (n/n) 💗: but if you are sitting on a chair and have a table in front of you, (n/n) 💗: Don’t doubt for a second that I would be fisting your cock under the table (n/n) 💗: and you’d have to keep quiet (n/n) 💗: Unless you want someone to find us, right? 🥰

Fuck. You knew exactly what to do, and say, to get to him. Had you stayed at home just to tease him like this? Maybe you did.

It was a bit of an impossible task to keep himself, pretending he was simply on his phone. It was already a dreadful pain to fight back his growing erection from appearing, not when you sending messages like that.

“Demanding girlfriend, eh?” Matias’ voiced surprised him, making him rapidly stare away from the phone, right when Kukuriczka was about to reply back to you. Was it too obvious? Perhaps it was because his phone was constantly chimming, and his eyes wouldn’t leave the screen. The younger Argentine scoffed.

“Don’t answer that. I can tell.” he retorted teasingly without allowing Kuku to answer, before leaving once again to be with the rest of the cast. It was too obvious, and who wouldn’t be in that state in his place?

(n/n) 💗: Wouldn’t it be fun if I were there, (n/n) 💗: And I took you to somewhere more private with an excuse... (n/n) 💗: And I sucked your cock until I milked every last drop, having me drooling and gagging? (n/n) 💗: in exchange, you could fuck my wet, aching pussy. ♥️

That’s it. He wouldn’t stay any longer on the little organised getaway by the cast. Kukuriczka could come up with an excuse, after all. Not being able to bury his cock deep inside your dripping pussy was painful enough, already.

Kuku 💍 is typing. . .

But after all your messages, you wouldn’t so easily get away from this. He’d make it clear, the horny feelings are always mutual.

Kuku 💍: I’m going back home. And you are keeping your promises, nena.

◞ ꙳ ๋࣭ ⭑ ` taglist .ᐟ

@luceracastro @castawaycherry @creative-heart @deepinsideyourbeing

[c0ntraversial-h0rr0r-c0ntent]

jiji hello, I read you from Argentina (I'm Argentine) and I like to ask you for a nsfw if possible of Jason Voorhees with a y/n (it can be GN/Female, whatever you want) who walks around the house in underwear. (⁠･⁠ω⁠･⁠)⁠つ⁠⊂⁠(⁠･⁠ω⁠･⁠)I like your writings mau

Sorry it took so long 😭😭😭 I so so appreciate you

Jason Gets Excited | NSFW

(So bad at naming things) Jason gets hard when you’re in just your underwear and he fucks your thighs. 800 ish words. [thigh fucking, shame (obviously, it’s Jason)] hope you like ittt

When you got back to the cabin you hadn’t given it too much thought—it was routine, get home, get settled in, put on comfortable clothes. The cabin was cozy, with a fire in the fireplace, so you just stripped down to your underwear and through on one of Jason’s flannels, which was warm and smelled like him.

You hear the door thump close a few minutes later. You’re at the kitchen counter and he stands on the other side and tilts his head at your hands.

“For soup, I picked up some bread earlier.”

He nods at the vegetables on the cutting board then walks around the counter. You turn to greet him and you watch his eyes shift under his mask.

He usually pulls you in close, resting his chin on the top of your head, arms around your waist, but he turns and walks to the other side of the room and into your shared bedroom.

You give him a minute, then knock on the closed door. You’ve worked out that if he’ll knock back if he needs a few more minutes alone and he’ll open the door himself if he’s okay with you coming in. You don’t hear either, but there is noise coming from the room.

You press your ear to the door. You expect quiet sobs like you usually hear when he’s shut himself away.

He’s grunting and he might be crying, but you can’t quite tell.

“Jason?” You knock twice.

Two knocks, from either of you, is your way of asking if the other person is okay. It’s something you’ve agreed that you have to respond to, with signals for yes, no, and I need space.

You hear the floor creak underneath him as he shuffles to the door. He opens the door and looks away, hiding his already-shielded face. He still has his shirt and jacket on but his pants and underwear are off and his cock is hanging half hard between his legs.

“You don’t have to hide,” You soothe. “It’s okay. Remember what we talked about?”

You’ve made it clear that he shouldn’t feel pressured to do anything and that if the two of you never do, that’s okay. In written out conversations he’s told you all about the shame and guilt that have been instilled in him.

A few nights ago he had asked if he could watch you touch yourself. You had obliged and he had gone outside to finish himself off after. It was so intimate, him spreading your legs and watching, but this was something completely new.

You try so hard not to stare but it’s impossible—it’s just so big.

Then, realization dawns on you. “Is it because I’m in my underwear?”

He nods. You can tell that he’s grimacing under the mask.

He holds out a hand to you and when you take it he pulls you close. You can feel it in between your legs.

His arms are wrapped around your waist, his grip soft but firm, keeping you in place. He moves his hips forward, gently thrusting in between your thighs.

“Oh.”

He looks down and tilts his head.

“It’s okay.”

He nods and bucks his hips again. You slide your hand down the front of your underwear and adjust yourself then look up. “Again.”

Now his hard cock is pressed against your clit and there’s friction with every bump of his hips against yours.

He’s breathing heavy and his chin is jutting out underneath his mask, mouth open. He pushes you away from him, just a few inches, and lets his right hand fall from his hip to his cock.

He holds it a few inches below the tip and lines himself up so just the tip is pressed to the fabric. He fucks it up against you slowly.

He groans and his grip on your waist is firmer, which you’re sure will unintentionally bruise, not that you mind. The harshness of his hand, the feeling of his tip bumping up against your clit, it’s all so much but it’s fucking perfect.

He whimpers when he cums. Deep and guttural and rough but a whimper nonetheless. You watch as it shoots of the tip, coating your underwear and then falling to the floor—there’s so much.

When he’s done he pulls you back to him and you stay like that for a while, holding you and crying softly.

“I know that was a lot for you but you did so good.” You whisper. “You didn’t do anything wrong, it’s okay to let yourself feel good.”

When he’s collected himself he cleans his mess on the floor. It’s a big milestone and you’re so, so proud of him.

[fante-di-denari]

CAN’T HELP FALLING IN LOVE (English)

Description: A night with the moon in the high sky, Price dance with his partner and do an important question

Warnings: none, just two dumps in love, fluff. I'm sorry if this have grammar mistakes, English is not my first language. TagList:@yeyinde

Spanish version

Masterlist

It was a warm night in the safe house, it was outside of a town somewhere in the world that was important enough to have the Task Force 141 and one of the units of Santos Vega together on that mission.

The captain begins to look after the sub commander the moment he had finished checking up both teams, they decided to stop and rest before the final move. He looked for his love in the living and the hall, but found him when he entered the kitchen. He found him outside, in the back garden’s porch, he was leaning on the railing of the fence that prevented one from going to the grass, he noticed the smoke from the cigarette and how he had gotten rid of his sewn braid, his hair could be seen moving with the wind and how the moon illuminated his figure. He approached calmly, making a soft noise when he stepped, announcing that he was coming and while he did so he smiled sweetly, damn he loved that man, he listened to both teams discuss whether it was a good idea to play music or not.

–Hello my love.

He leaned by his side, watching him, watching his face from the side, how it moved to look at him- no, that word was superficial, he was watching him with his honey eyes, as sweet as real honey, full of feelings, full of life and love.

–Güenas amor –He whispered, approaching him, feeling his warmth and resting his head on his shoulder, he handed him the cigarette, he noticed that it was one of those you can arm yourself –. ¿want some? Maybe it won’t be like your cigars, but have quality, made by my own hands –The brit accepted the proposal, holding the cigarette butt between his fingers to inhale and return it, exhaling the smoke a few seconds later, making sure that the smoke does not hit his love in the face. In the background they both could hear their teams continue arguing, Ghost, Kamari and Gaz said that it might not be good for their safety, but Soap, Phoenix and the Argentines said that it was not going to be like that, that they were sure –. They're going to kill each other if they keep arguing like this – he chuckled, looking into the house.

–Yes, but it helps them to not think about tomorrow.

He also looked inside, shook his head, looking back at his sea, how his cheeks formed two small holes every time he smiled, simply beautiful.

– take a picture, they last long. – Sanma's smile made him stifle a small laugh and smile at him in a cute way.

– Yeah, but that means someone could see it and they'll know I'm dating the best man in the world. – he expressed softly, placing his hand on the opposite waist.

– That would be nice, they wouldn't flirt with you – He smile at him in the only way Martin know how to

– But they would also try to take you away from me.

–u’te vah a ser el único pajuerano al que mi corazón le va a pertenecer Jo. (you are going to be the only outsider to whom my heart will belong Jo) –his voice was low, but full of love and affirmation, the captain had gone dumb admiring him, softly music began to be heard, a slow song, apparently the two Scots and the Argentines had won, the melody was one of Presley's.

Wise men say Only fools rush in But I can't help falling in love with you Shall I stay? Would it be a sin If I can't help falling in love with you?

The Brit glanced inside and then looked at his lover, tucking the lock of hair that hid his eyes behind his ear, to smile at him, a silent question as he offered his gloved hand, his smile widening as he watched him place his hand on his own after putting out the cigarette, they both moved a little away from the railing, with one hand on the argento's waist, his lover's hand on his shoulder and their intertwined fingers, they started to move gently, to the rhythm of the music.

Like a river flows Surely to the sea Darling, so it goes Some things are meant to be

There’s no words, no need for them, because with their looks said everything, how much they love each other, how much they worry about the future. Price was taller than Martin, so he had to Price was taller than Martin, by three inches, but he still had to bend down a bit to kiss his love's silky hair.

Take my hand Take my whole life, too For I can't help falling in love with you

They both felt the looks of four of their soldiers and how they smiled looking at them, happy with those little domestic moments that appeared when both teams got together. They liked to see them interact, how they looked at each other, how they cared for each other, how they both spoke each other's language fluently, the little acts of love they did, inside and outside the fire, the four of them watched as Price admired the Argentine under the moonlight.

-I want something like this. –Express Venti, one of Ferrero's sergeants, receiving an "same" from the Scots and her partner.

Like a river flows Surely to the sea Darling, so it goes Some things are meant to be

–I want to dance like this in our wedding.

He proposed in the middle of the dance, turning his sea around and attracting him again, provoking a tender and mischievous smile from the shortest, and the excitement in the spies in the kitchen, they felt that the proposal was coming.

–I don’t see a ring in my finger Price, I think you have to propose first to can dance it. –His smile was big because of the anxiety of the conversation, his heart raced at the image of both of them dancing at their possible wedding with their family and friends looking on.

–You are absolutely right, love –He stops the dance, looking at him in the eyes, he grabs both of his hands and kisses them above the gloves –Let me marry you and make you happy.

–¿Que? –he asked surprised and smiling, watching his love

Take my hand Take my whole life, too For I can't help falling in love with you For I can't help falling in love with you

– What you heard honey, marry me, when we retire we can live in a house like this, far from the city, have dogs and horses, even children if you want, but let's have that life together and let me make you the happiest man in the world. – he spoke serious, but with hope in his voice, he observed his love's smile, how it broke into a nervous laugh and his eyes crystallized, he saw how he nodded.

–Yes I want, John, I want to marry you. – He laughed nervously as he drew his now fiancé into a kiss full of emotion and both crying, at the end of the song "La Resaka '' by Supermek2, causing laughter from both commanders and the anger of the Argentines.

–¡Wacho, rompieron el momento! (Dude, you broke the moment!) – The other sergeant exclaimed, looking at her partner, who had changed the song by the time the previous one ended.

–Me deprimía. (It depressed me)

–¿Vos ves que me importa? (I look like i care?)

–De última pone algo que los británicos entiendan, pelotudo (At least, put something that the British understand, asshole)

– Congratulations Captain, Lieutenant. –While the Argentines were fighting with their partner, the twins approached their superiors to congratulate them.

[thepancakewitch]

All Fic Ideas

can't have SHIT anymore!!!!

Fic ideas

KLK

Aikuro x Momoko x Tsumugu

Gamagoori x Momoko

Toriko

Coco

Sunny

Bedazzle suit

Zebra

?

Brunch 

Electric….

Komatsu

Befriending, smooch

Nono

Also befriending, smooch

Starjun

smooch

Midora

TO N G U E

Jujutsu Kaisen

Mahito

Centipede form

Human form

Curse filling

Impregnation

Also tongue… is this a curse thing?

done - >

Sukuna

Non con

Sleepwalker

Tongue…. Sigh

He looked up, eyes focusing in. "You're awake? Good."

Fist of the North Star

Toki cures depression

Shin picks out something for you, modern AU maybe?

Kengan Ashura

Rihito takes you to Tokyo Destiny Land

Reams you in the bathroom - RECENTLY CLEANED

Xia Ji Gets Owned

Dorohedoro

Risu……..

Risu cums on you

Risu more like UR MY SUGAR MOMMYsu

Fujitora

You want to be My partner?

FF7

I am not and will not fuck Hojo but unfortunately I will

tes

Ancano and Llrium

MHA

Bimbo reader x Shigaraki

Uh oh my like, ex bf Keigo is over there??? Quick be my bf in this mall

Naruto

Heavenly Peach Banquet - Momoko x Family

House of Red Clouds - Reader x Akatsuki

One Piece

Condor - Reader x Peruvian Rosicante Donquixote

Idiot llama herder

Tímido Dino - Reader x Cubano X Drake - Diez Drake

Meet him at college, he’s floored you recognize he’s latino, complains about it…..

H o r n iiiii ( fog horn noise )

Mexican Perona - the mall goth

Mexican Law - adopted in by Rosicante

Argentine Robin - studies up in the andes

Colombian Nami - heart breaker

GENDERFLUID*~* Brazillian Sanji - OUDRI KANDA LAIHAI

https://twitter.com/saintdevour/status/1381967022011998209?s=20

Mixed Dominican Katakuri ( i see big mama being european, like Germanic or something )

Panamanian Cavendish - tu quieres!? Si si estoy bonito!

Resident Evil 8 - Village

Inner Workings - Heisenberg experiments on ReaDER HHAHA FNNI 0_0 haha wouldnt that be so funny!!!!!!

Alicia turns you into a husk!!!

Ace Attorney

Modern AU - barok the english professor has no time for you

Scoffs at your twilight but then talks about team jacob

Bends you over the desk to fuck you because idk that has to be a staple

Wine mom

Hunter X Hunter

Illumi uses a magic wand on you and is like :| i wanted to see your reactions

[audio-luddite]

The music, here's some.

With all the recent talk of A&M albums I decided to look at the A in A&M.

Herb Alpert. He had an unexpected hit with a tune with a non-existent band. But that success lead to more and more and eventually starting his own label.

I played the two albums I have of his, "Beyond", and "Rise". Not fancy reissues just the vanilla originals. To a degree they reflect recovery from a bad place or two of Mr Alpert. The music is pleasant. The recording is very clear. A&M had high standards apparently. One of those was the first album fully done with a digital recorder according to Wiki-thing.

I wanted to play them as it had been a long time. Nothing in the chain was as it was when last played. Yes it was different. Different TT, phono cartridge, preamp, amplifier and yes speakers. More stuff yada yadda.

It was a warm up exercise. The machines need to warm up and get the thermals all happy.

Next up Daft Punk. Random Access Memories. Double album super well recorded. Both Digital and Analog. Apparently they had a classic AMPEX running and picked what sounded better when they were done. Really complex. The track "touch" is close to epic.

That was the intention. Lots of disco type sound, and those old synthesizers doing the Sci-Fi stuff for the fans. But they were shedding the robot masks and getting real and moving on. This thing won a few Grammies.

Hey even if it is digital and a total phoney studio atmosphere it sounds really good. Solid bottom end and tiny bits to tease out. It reminds me of Dark side of the moon you know. I bought it new, and was surprised to find they had been selling a 10 year anniversary version last year. Am I that old?

It is good and yes if you are under the spell of audiophilia it is worthy.

Sometimes you just gotta let it run. Digital is fine if that is what you got and what the artist wanted.

You will never guess what is next in line. Back in the mid 80s I surprised my wife with a show downtown. It was the touring company of "Tango Argentino". For the record the only Tango is Argentine. Tango California just don't sound right does it? She was mesmerized. The music the dancing, the costumes. It was a great show. I have the double LP original cast recording.

I cannot for the life of me recall if I bought the album at the show. Probably as the playbill from the show is in the bifold. This is not supposed to be an audiophile album, but it is very quiet, clear and detailed. By quiet I mean no tics, or noise or that stuff. So what is an audiophile album? Is it something with a single cut to show off to your limited bandwidth buddies? Or is it a well recorded document?

The bass is great. The Tango uses an accordion like instrument called a Bandoneon. Usually several. That and a gypsy like violin are all you need. Both those have really dynamic mids and treble. Oh ya there is a piano, but it is extra.

This is a studio recording, but had they miked the stage that would have been great. Did not as it was not practical given the time constraints. Still a simple and naive recording that honestly reflects the smoky brothel based heritage of the Tango.

I am going to stop typing now and listen.

[inportant-spam-rsvp]

So, the Noise update-

Should I draw more Noise while my brain deepfries itself in Luigi plots? If so, which one: Show Noise or Argentine Noise?

I'll keep doodling regardless, I just really appreciate the feedback ; ;

[ophthalmotropy]

But also, my condolences to my fellow noise-hating Argentines. Manifesting our survival.

[icarianonager]

The Institute: Episode II

The Artemisian Artifice

The primary structure of a typical Knowledge Tower was not steel and concrete, but a type of solid synthetic crystal. The Institute’s towers could rise over 10 kilometers high, grown from tiny seed crystals in deep foundation pools that rapidly exploded into colossal blue-white spires. The tower could then be even further strengthened with steel reinforcements; hollowed out into a honeycomb of dormitories, laboratories, and public spaces; and fitted with human comforts by Institute construction drones. Beneath the decorative coverings, the crystalline structure was specifically designed to be incredibly strong, incredibly light, and incredibly soundproof. The fact that Andromeda could hear someone hammering away with what had to be a jackhammer through the walls of her dormitory was utterly perplexing.

Programming the cryonic beam had not been a simple matter. Though the device was functional, there was all sorts of fine tuning that needed to be implemented to prevent malfunctions and provide limitations so the device would not spontaneously self-immolate, primarily developing an operating system to control its many delicate systems. In this job, Andromeda excelled. Like all programmers, she had a simple, almost meditative process when developing her software. She ordered an entire box of Chimera energy drinks and pounded nothing but the sour mixture of sugar, caffeine, and carbonation for three whole days, only stopping when the software for the cryonic beam was finished. Then, as dawn broke on the fourth day, she finally crawled into bed, hoping for a peaceful crash into a sleep as close to death as she could reach, which was presently being denied her.

Andromeda shoved her head under her pillow. The din ripped through the goose down like a sonic-driven blade. She threw her headphones on and played the sound of rain. The hammering broke through like a clap of thunder. Her bloodshot, dark-ringed eyes peeked out from under the covers like a frothing beast ready to attack.

“Odysseus,” Andromeda croaked, “Help me.”

The A.I. construct’s avatar shimmered into existence. “Good morning, Andromeda,” he said. “What can I -” His question was cut off as a high-power drill revved up.

“Go find out what that is,” Andromeda said. “Go find them and kill them.”

“I am not permitted to harm any human being,” Odysseus said, “Not that it would be possible for me to. But I will find the source of the noise for you. I will return shortly.” He blinked out, and then, a few moments later, returned.

“The Altair Tower manifest says her name is Artemisia Argentine, a doctoral candidate in the Department of Mechanical Engineering,” Odysseus said. “However, it lists no advisor for her.”

“Must be a glitch,” Andromeda said, hauling herself out of bed. “Anyways, I’m gonna go give her a piece of my mind.”

“Do be careful,” Odysseus said. “Dr. Zimov is still in the hospital. It would be dreadfully lonely in the laboratory were both of you to be gone.”

“I’ll be fine,” Andromeda said, storming to the door. “This Artemisia character just needs a reminder she has a neighbor.” She slammed the door behind her and locked it, just in case anyone had a smart idea to try and nick anything from her room, especially the ice cream gun.

Andromeda stomped over to the next dormitory and pounded on the door. There was no response. She knocked again. No response. She knocked a third time. No response. Her temper rising, she decided to just throw her weight against the door and maybe break it down. The wiser part of her brain knew this was impossible, for solid steel doors were very strong, and Andromeda had the muscular strength of a pastry bag of cake frosting. However, that part of her brain was currently being pummeled to death by an overriding rage and a demand to sleep. She took a step back, then ran with her right shoulder forward as fast as she could. However, what she met was not the hard steel of the door, but a far more yielding, fleshy material, which cushioned her impact as she toppled to the floor.

Andromeda lay on the hard surface next to a cold pair of viridian eyes. The face which held them seemed unimpressed with her exploits, to say the least. Andromeda then noticed the submachine gun pointed at her.

“Are you Artemisia?” Andromeda asked, not making any sudden movements.

Artemisia nodded.

“I’m sorry for barging in, but I’m your next door neighbor, Andromeda. I’m trying to sleep, so could you please keep it down?”

Artemisia slowly lowered her gun from Andromeda’s forehead, and pushed herself up to stand. Andromeda followed suit, and, getting a better evaluation of her neighbor’s figure, came to realize why her landing had been so soft. Even though Artemisia was about a head shorter than Andromeda, she was significantly bustier, a pair of massive balls of dough rising from her bosom, supported by her pudgy, soft belly. Reflexively, Andromeda brought her arms over her own comparatively small chest. Noticing she was staring, Artemisia’s eyes narrowed.

Andromeda snapped out of her stupor. She spotted the source of all the noise: a number of construction drones, though currently deactivated, had been cutting a shaft straight through the floor and installing the supports for a small elevator. “Oh, uh, yeah. Sorry,” she said to Artemisia. “Just, you know, try not to make loud noise before, I don’t know, noon? I’ll usually be out of here by then.”

Artemisia, for her part, was silent.

“Okay, I get it, this is just awkward,” Andromeda said. “I’ll, uh, get out of your way.” She slowly backed towards the door.

Artemisia slowly nodded.

“Well, how did it go?” Odysseus said.

“Poorly,” Andromeda said, flopping back on her bed. “Apparently, she’s not just a jerk, she’s also a mute.”

“What is she doing?” Odysseus asked.

“Are students authorized to build new elevator shafts?”

“If they receive proper clearance, then yes.”

Andromeda was nonplussed. “And how did she get that? It’d be nice to have my own personal elevator to, I don’t know, the pastry shop on level 35.”

Odysseus processed through records for a moment. “It appears that there was a cargo elevator already scheduled to be installed on this floor. She may have just modified the order. Plus, she is in the Department of Mechanical Engineering, so that may have given her extra resources.”

The further explanation still did not satisfy Andromeda. “One of these days, Odd,” she said, “Some monster is going to escape from the Deeps, and, when it does, I hope it eats your entire processing bank.”

However, the rest of the day was surprisingly peaceful. Andromeda finally got a few winks of shuteye, before waking up at the crack of 8:00 PM for a late-night breakfast of several cartons of instant ramen and ice cream from her now fully operational ice cream gun. She then eliminated a few hundred more demons in Immortal Apocalypse and browsed through dozens of posts of brain-numbing internet garbage before collapsing back to bed.

So it went for the next few days. With Vanya indisposed, there were no projects for her to work on in the lab. One night, she was still a bit peckish, so she decided to go down to her favorite pie place on the 35th floor for a slice of blueberry, with its perfectly flaky crust and sweet fruity filling that left her zaftig belly gurgling and mouth drooling the entire elevator ride back up. When she returned, she nearly dropped the box and ruined her late night snack.

She’d forgotten to lock the door to her room, and the door was open.

“Fucking shit,” Andromeda swore. She rushed inside, and her worst fears were confirmed. Two toaster-sized grey androids were grabbing up her laptop and the cryonic beam with their spindly metal arms. “Hey!” she called out.

The two startled robots jumped as their rectangular heads swung to her. The pair of mechanized thieves grabbed their prizes and rushed under her chubby thighs. Andromeda gave chase with the agility of a beached seal as the pair of electronic crooks wirelessly opened Artemisia’s door and slipped inside, locking it behind them.

Andromeda pounded on the door. “Open up! If you don’t give my shit back, I’m calling Security.” There was no response.

Fuming, Andromeda stormed back to her room. She paced back and forth across the tiny dormitory, plotting her next move. Clearly, retaliation was in order, especially for such a powerful (and hunger-satiating) piece of technology as the cryonic beam. She could just call Security, but this felt personal. This was Artemisia’s form of revenge against Andromeda’s noise complaint.

“Odd, what’s the status of the α-particle gun?” Andromeda asked into her phone.

“Well, considering you have done nothing for the past three days but sleep, play video games, and eat ice cream, it is still broken,” Odysseus said, his avatar popping into existence.

“How long would it take to fix?”

“Maybe... an hour?”

“Good enough,” Andromeda said, grabbing some goggles and throwing her lab coat on. “Do you think it could blast through a standard dorm door?”

“Undoubtedly, though that would of course have serious consequences.”

“I’m willing to take that risk,” Andromeda said, and headed down to the laboratory.

Patching the gun back together proved trickier than Odysseus said it would, considering Andromeda decided to further optimize the weapon’s operating system and fried one of the first circuit boards she used by accident. She chucked the blackened electronics at the wall in fury, snapping the green plastic and scattering transistors and diodes across the floor. “Odd, can you order a case of Chimera?” Andromeda grumbled, her head in her hands.

“Do you even know what is in these?” Odysseus said, shimmering onto the work table. “The fourth ingredient is very strange. Helothermidase citrate... it’s not in any of my chemical analysis databases.”

Andromeda bored her gaze into the A.I. “I could not care an iota less about that right now. Just get it for me.”

Four hours, several cans of Chimera, and a tub of chocolate ice cream later, the improvised door opener was done.

Cradling the α-particle gun under her arm, she ascended back to the 178th floor. There was no one else awake at this time of night, and Odysseus let her know there were no security patrols nearby. Reaching Artemisia’s room, she shouldered the gun and fired. The bolt of white blasted straight through the door, leaving a scorched hole oozing red-hot molten steel. Inside, Andromeda found a room devoid of anything except the standard metal dorm furniture: a bed, a refrigerator, a desk, and a chair.

“Great,” Andromeda said to herself, waiting for the slag to finish cooling before she entered. “She obviously hid the elevator, so where is the....” She noticed a portion of wall that had a nearly-imperceptible panel in it. Gently pushing on it revealed a small lever. Pulling that down moved Artemisia’s bed out of the way on a sliding piece of floor into an alcove that opened up on the side. A small cargo lift rose into the bed’s place.

Andromeda smirked and boarded the car, which promptly descended down the shaft into the darkness. The light of Artemisia’s room was soon replaced only by the glow of red indicators along the sides. The lift was not as fast as Altair Tower’s main elevators, though it still dropped at a steady clip. Cold air rushed past as Andromeda sunk farther into the depths.

Abruptly, the car jerked to a halt as it reached the bottom of the shaft. It disconnected from the vertical carrier and switched to a small monorail track. Soon enough, the car pulled to its terminus, and the loading gate opened.

Facing Andromeda as she stepped off the elevator was Artemisia. She sat in a leather swivel chair, a cone of vanilla ice cream in one hand and her submachine gun in the other, Andromeda’s cryonic beam and laptop in her lap, and one of the two thieves on her shoulder. An army of similar spindly-limbed, rectangular-headed androids surrounded her.

Andromeda’s brow furrowed as she shouldered the α-particle gun again. Her and Artemisia’s eyes locked down the sights of their respective weapons, and each awaited their next move.

“I need those back,” Andromeda said.

“Come and take them!” the android on her shoulder said in a squeaky synthetic voice. “We need them.”

“If you don’t give them back, I’m calling the Security Division,” Andromeda shot back.

“We’ll do the same,” a second android said, popping out from behind Artemisia’s chair. “You melted our door and invaded our lab.”

“Doors can be fixed,” Andromeda said. “That cryonic beam is irreplaceable. We’ve already had one scientist try and take it, and she’s now imprisoned. I thought the news about Dr. Voltaire would get around more quickly.”

“You can’t have them back,” a third android said, jumping onto the armrest. “We need them for our experiments.”

“What specific components do you need?” asked Andromeda, her visage confused. “You couldn’t just order another laptop?”

“Kurchatovium-354!” the first android said.

“Programs!” the second android said.

“Kurchatovium and programs!” the third android said.

“Ugh.” Andromeda buried her forehead in her palm. “The Deep Labs should have another kurchatovium sample by now. I can get you some through the nuclear physics department requisition, since it’ll be easier. The programs on that computer are fingerprint encrypted, but if you want them so badly then I can give you whatever you need. The scientist I work for is in the hospital right now, it’s not like I have anything better to do.”

The androids all looked to Artemisia. She crunched down on the last bit of her ice cream cone and set her weapon down on the armrest. Pulling a tablet out from between her boobs, she typed a singular phrase: “I work alone.”

“Oh, you’re just insufferable, aren’t you?” Andromeda said. “Yeah, I get it: every scientist here thinks they can do it on their own, but if you can’t put aside your ego for one second, then you’re going to be in a lot more trouble than this whole thing is worth.”

Artemisia dropped the tablet in her lap and leaned back in her chair, her head cradled in her interwoven fingers. Then, she groaned, and dropped her arms to her sides. “Fine,” she wrote on the tablet. She handed the cryonic beam and laptop to her assistants, which toddered over to Andromeda and plopped the two technologies at her feet. Wheeling her chair around, Artemisia booted up a large drafting surface behind her, revealing a number of mechanical blueprints.

Andromeda approached, the robotic horde around Artemisia opening to let her pass. She gazed at the designs over Artemisia’s shoulder. “That’s a big mech,” Andromeda said.

Artemisia nodded.

“Do you have the space to build that in here?” Andromeda asked. Artemisia’s lab space was quite a bit smaller than Vanya’s and lacked an omniprinter to produce or any mechanical arms or cranes to move heavy components.

Artemisia got up from her chair and motioned for Andromeda to follow her. A few of her androids scuttled along behind them as a retinue. She placed her hand against a portion of the wall, which glowed white, scanning her palm, fingerprints, and DNA. The sensor turned green, and two metal wall panels slid aside, opening into a much larger room.

The two stood on a catwalk above a deep pit that descended at least 50 meters down, with catwalks at each level. 100 meters above them, Andromeda could just barely spot a large hexagonal silo door with two interlocking plates leading to the surface. The steel and titanium skeleton of a mechanical giant filled the pit, held upright by a pair of clamps on electromagnetic launch rails. More of Artemisia’s army of androids, along with larger construction drones, swarmed over the titanic machine like worker bees on a honeycomb, sparks flying as they welded new components into place to cover the thick bundles of cabling and hydraulics. Painted on the wall in white was “Launch Bay 31-A.”

“Of course,” Andromeda said. “No scientist has just one lab space anymore....”

Artemisia puffed out her chest, exposing more of her generous cleavage through the neckline of her t-shirt.

“Alright, so what do you need me to do?” Andromeda asked, rubbing her hands together.

Bringing out her tablet, Artemisia began typing up a list. She passed the tablet to Andromeda, who looked it over.

“Alright, I think I can do that,” she said, then thought for a moment. “Do you like Chimera?”

Artemisia gave her a quizzical look.

=0100111101000010010100110100010101010010010101100100010101010010=

Institute scientists produced many byproducts of their experiments. Most of these results were positive: amazing new technologies, medicines, and theories that astounded the world over. However, others were decidedly less so. A few errant genomes from some radiotrophic fungi and a belting of gamma rays can turn a green iguana into a 200-ton behemoth. Such mistakes were firmly held in stasis in the Deep Labs, kept for potential use in later studies and as warnings against the bolder students and scientists at the Institute.

However, in any complicated system, unforeseen variables always existed that could sneak in and wreck it. The keepers of the monstrous lizard assumed that the creature could never become resistant to its sedative-laced food, and that its claws could never tear through the 3-meter thick steel cage that held it captive. Chaos had sown destructive intent into those seemingly safe assumptions, and now the carnage would be reaped.

When the scientists came down to check on their pet one day, they found nothing in the enclosure but a gaping maw of twisted wreckage that the lizard had left behind as it tore open the floor. They looked to one another, and both mutually and wordlessly decided that it would be worth both their hides not to tell anyone. In all likelihood, the creature’s feeding patterns would lead it to one of the Deep Lab’s many nuclear reactors, where the high levels radiation would fry it.

But, Chaos again waved its hand. The reactors of the Deep Labs were well-enclosed, lest they irradiate the entire Institute. The gigantic iguana instead sensed a relatively small source of radiation, contained only by a titanium cylinder, moving out of the labs towards Altair Tower. It began to tunnel its way through the crystal foundations of the island towards the delectable morsel of food....

=010000010110111001100100011100100110111101101101011001010110010001100001=

Andromeda and Artemisia made quite the formidable scientific team. While Andromeda pounded away at lines of code and drowned herself in energy drinks, Artemisia directed her legion of androids, redrafted her designs to adjust for changes she’d found during construction, and soldered and welded the more delicate components that she didn’t trust to her machines.

Artemisia slept regularly, like her constructions, even though she often conked out on the couch in the launch bay anteroom instead of taking the cargo elevator back up to her dorm. When she lay down to rest at precisely midnight every night, someone simply pulled her plug, and she dropped to sleep like a stone.

Andromeda, by contrast, was in a near-complete coding trance, and would remain awake as long as possible, dulling her tiredness with overdoses of caffeine and sugar. She had to pass out after a few days, but just dropped a pillow on top of her keyboard. After a 14 hour nap, it was back to work.

Artemisia was not exactly one for words, so the laboratory was usually filled with whirring robotic servos, the hum of processors, and the occasional belch. Using so much brain power did consume plenty of calories, but the two scientists went far beyond the caloric needs of those who just needed the energy to power through difficult problems. Although their sleep schedules differed, the two nerds did share a propensity for meals and snacks as they worked. They were not just competing to see who could complete their respective job the best, but also to see how much they could pack away into their stomachs over the course of the project. Andromeda was partial to slurping down long instant ramen noodles in salty broth and bowls of sweet and sour takeout Chinese food, while Artemisia munched on sugary chocolate bars and slurped down thick, whipped cream-topped milkshakes. That is not to say they did not eat other things as well, though. The two began to enjoy ordering a nightly extra large pizza to share, half sausage and pepperoni for Andromeda and half mushroom for Artemisia. The two took time to sample plenty of other delights from restaurants all across the Institute, from greasy fried chicken to spicy curries to simple American cheeseburgers and fries.

If they didn’t want to wait for delivery, they could always point the ice cream gun into a cone or bowl and enjoy a creamy frozen treat. The frigid ray of energy flash froze the custard mixture, creating ice crystals so small they were imperceptible to the human tongue. In other words, it created the smoothest ice cream known to mankind, dense and without a hint of airy filler. Every flavor they tried, from simple vanilla and chocolate to more experimental varieties like earl grey tea and blueberry. Their hunger for food was only matched by their hunger for knowledge, and neither seemed able to be truly satisfied even as they stuffed their squishy stomachs with food and practically handcuffed themselves to their computers.

Unfortunately, their wardrobes did not seem to respect such appetites. Adipose tissue began to further fill out the two girls’ frames, fat piling around their rolly-polly bellies and cellulite dimpling their rears. Andromeda’s sweatpants were beginning to split at the seams, a few patches of pink skin showing through the grey flannel. Artemisia’s shirt was constantly riding up as her boobs took up more and more of its potential surface area. Neither really cared about appearing indecent in front of one another.

As Andromeda took a break to eat her lunch one day, one of Artemisia’s robots clambered up onto her desk.

“Fatass!” the little android said, poking its arm into her upper stomach roll. A cold hard digit pressed deep into the warm, memory-foam soft blubber before springing back out.

Andromeda flushed scarlet. “I’ll turn you to scrap for that, you little bastard,” she growled, grabbing at the mischievous robot. It leapt out of her reach and off the table, scampering to its master.

Artemisia glared at the tiny machine. She picked it up off the ground and plugged its USB port into her computer. She shifted through a few programs, changed a few parameters, and then let the android go.

“Sorry, Andromeda,” the robot said, seeming rather embarrassed now. “You have been helpful to Artemisia. That was wrong of me.”

Andromeda looked to Artemisia, and put down the monkey wrench she hoped to use to pulverize the irksome machine. “Well, yeah, it’s been... enjoyable, at least, to help you guys out,” she said, rubbing the back of her head. “Probably would have just been bored otherwise.”

The kurchatovium finally arrived at the end of the week. Andromeda had worked tirelessly to secure it, since her first request had been denied since the Zimov lab had already nabbed the last 200 grams from the previous production. Fortunately, 10 kilograms had just come hot and fresh out of the particle accelerator, so there was plenty for everyone. Despite that, Andromeda did hack the requisition system to make sure her request was on top.

They had an android team install the kurchatovium into its place in the mech’s fusion reactor core. This ensured they were protected from its radioactive glow. A housing was already prepared to receive the ring of blue metal. The superconductor provided the magnetic force to keep the fusion reaction stable. As Artemisia and Andromeda watched the tiny robots shove the kurchatovium into place, the laboratory suddenly shook.

“What was that?” Andromeda asked.

Artemisia rushed over to her computer. She checked for the Institute’s earthquake warning service (tsunamis were always a threat on an artificial island), but found not even a microquake reported by the seismometers. Both scientists were at a complete loss for explanation.

“Hopefully it was nothing,” Andromeda said, sidling next to Artemisia. “Let’s get back to work. I’m really close to finishing the last few bits of software implementation. I just need to wait for the program to finish compiling, and then we can install the OS. We should be ready for the first test today.”

Indeed, Artemisia’s great invention was nearly complete. The colossal mech stood 40 meters tall, clad in interlocking angular plates of crimson composite armor. On its oversized pauldrons it sported a pair of automatic railguns and four embedded missile pods. Its right arm carried a long-barreled neutron blaster cannon, fed by the byproducts of the fusion reactor. Booster rockets were attached to its back and ankles to provide quick boosts of speed. Its sturdy legs faced backwards like a raptors’, with flexible plates over the joints. The feet were tridactyl with wide sloping toes to provide greater stability. Two sensory antennas were attached to either side of the head-mounted squarish cockpit, along with a host of cameras and other instruments capable of detecting different optical wavelengths and providing backups should another system go down. The cockpit was further protected by a thick, rounded gorget that obscured the lower portion of the mech’s face.

However, as Andromeda uploaded the operating system to the mech, the shaking beneath the laboratory only worsened and became more frequent.

“Odd?” she asked. “Do you know what that is?”

Odysseus’s figure appeared on top of her laptop. “No, but I have a hunch. Do you perhaps remember the giant crab-turtle that escaped from the Deep Labs back in January?”

Artemisia turned away from her desk to listen in.

“The one that nearly took out the space elevator? Yeah, I remember.”

“We could be facing a similar situation,” Odysseus said.

Artemisia looked suddenly frightened. Her robots scrambled out of the launch bay. “Save the mech!” one of her androids called out.

Andromeda thought for a moment. “We’ll draw it to the surface,” she said. “That’ll get Security’s attention. Then they can help us take it down.”

“How are you going to do that?” Odysseus asked.

“It wants something inside the mech,” Andromeda theorized aloud. “Maybe it sensed the radiation from the kurchatovium. Whatever it is, it’ll try and follow us wherever we go. And, if it’s not after that, then that will at least get the mech out of here if it tries to attack.”

Artemisia looked to Andromeda, nodded, and gave a thumbs up. She dashed to her locker, threw off her t-shirt and sweatpants, zipped up a red jumpsuit with haptic interface gloves. The skin-tight synthetic fabric of the suit hugged every contour of her curvy figure, snagging in her folds and bulging significantly outwards around her bust and belly. Artemisia then rushed off to the mech as fast as her chubby legs would carry her.

After checking five times that the OS was stable and fully uploaded, Andromeda changed into her own unflattering electric blue suit, which rode up deep into the canyon of her chunky ass as she stumbled along the catwalks to the robot with her computer folded under her arm. With the launch systems already primed, the fueling lines attached to the gargantuan machine hissed opaque clouds of white vapor of rapidly evaporating liquid oxygen.

Andromeda clambered into the cockpit, winded from the short sprint. Artemisia was rapidly flicking on sets of switches on her control board, beginning the startup sequence. The fusion reactor hummed to life, and the dim red lights of the cockpit flickered to bright fluorescent white. Holographic and physical sensor and diagnostic screens displaying multicolor gauges, graphs, and targeting reticles booted one by one around the cockpit. Andromeda took her place at the weapons station behind Artemisia, setting up her laptop on her thighs.

“It’ll take us too long to run the whole systems checklist ourselves,” Andromeda said. “Odd, do you think you can do it?”

Odysseus’s avatar appeared on top of Andromeda’s laptop. “I’ll see what I can do, but no promises.” He blinked out. Andromeda stowed the laptop at her side.

“Artemisia, you need to give Odd access to the system,” Andromeda said.

Artemisia gave her a thumbs up. She rapidly typed a few commands into her holographic keyboard. Odysseus’s voice soon emanated through the mech’s speakers.

“Cozy in here. Okay. Reactor core is nominal,” Odysseus read out. “Currently using 30% power. CPU usage nominal is nominal at 20%. Fuel tanks are fully pressurized. Railgun 1 is primed. Railgun 2 is primed. The neutron cannon is primed, but will require more flux to reach full charge. The missile pods are primed. All boosters are primed. All servo-motors are fully functional and primed. The haptic interface is online. I can confirm that all systems are green, and you are go for launch! Starting countdown at T-minus 10....”

The screens in front of Artemisia and Andromeda changed to a precise countdown clock, the milliseconds rapidly ticking down to liftoff. The floor beneath the mech rumbled, enough that Artemisia and Andromeda felt it 50 meters up. The silo doors overhead opened up, allowing a faint beam of moonlight to trickle down through the launch bay and meekly compete with the overriding glare of white fluorescent spotlights.

“T-minus 9....”

The electromagnetic catapults clamped down hard on the mech’s shoulder and back maneuvering fins. The two pilots pulled down their respective harness over their heads, Artemisia wincing a little bit as her boobs were compressed until the system automatically adjusted. Andromeda noted to herself that the two of them both had plenty of padding to help protect their internal organs from injury, though what protection this would provide were the reactor core breached was uncertain.

“T-minus 8....”

The shaking beneath them increased in magnitude. The beast’s claws crunched and scraped as they tore into the steel floor.

“T-minus 7....”

The mech’s many weapons locked into place with a loud chunk.

“T-minus 6....”

5-kilogram snowflakes of concrete cracked off from the walls and fell around the mech. A larger, car-sized piece bounced harmlessly off the left shoulder pauldron.

“T-minus 5....”

The cables, fueling lines, and data uplinks plugged into various ports on the robot detached with a series of loud snaps and bangs. The catwalk leading to the cockpit swung silently out of the way so that it would not be torn to ribbons like a flimsy piece of aluminum foil in a category 5 hurricane.

“T-minus 3.... Booster ignition.... now!”

A thunderous roar echoed through the launch bay as blue cones of flame and white smoke shot from the rocket engines. The mech quaked and croaked as tremendous force shot through its structure. Andromeda crossed her fingers.

“T-minus 2....”

A rend tore open in the bottom of the launch bay, a single yellow reptilian eye visible through jagged metal slit.

“T-minus 1....”

The thrusters reached full throttle, and the mech began to slowly lift, even without the aid of the catapult. Blue sparks flew from the catapult clamps as the electromotors reached full charge.

“T-minus 0. Launch!”

Andromeda was instantly thrown into her seat as the catapult and rockets shot the mech out of the cavernous dark and into the light of day. A black and green clawed arm burst through the launch bay floor and strained at the mech’s right leg, just barely missing.

“You have cleared the surface,” Odysseus said. “Switching control over to manual.”

Artemisia took hold of one the many joysticks and pulled hard backwards. The mech’s thrusters pulled it back away from the launch bay just in time for them to meet their foe as it rushed out of the depths.

Covered in iridescent emerald and onyx scales, the mammoth lizard crawled out from the open pit of the launch bay and let out an ear-splitting roar, fortunately dampened by the mech’s sensors. It had meter-long razor-sharp claws, a head crest of blade-like translucent silver spines, and a muscular barbed tail. The creature had grown at least as big as the mech itself, if not bigger.

Andromeda immediately took aim with her control sticks and slammed on the triggers. Both railguns let rip with a hail of bullets, flying so fast they turned the air around them into tracer-lines of burning plasma. With few mechanical parts to impede them, the only limit on the railguns’ rate of fire was the risk of overheating, which a robust system of air and water cooling prevented. The guns sawed across the lizard’s hardened skin, leaving cauterized scars oozing green blood around the edges.

However, that just seemed to make it angrier. The iguana reared up, hissing in pain, then galloped forward. Artemisia fired the boosters again. The mech leapt backwards, trying to gain as much distance as possible, blue streams of railgun fire whizzing from its guns all the while as it retreated.

“Odd, has Security noticed the problem yet?” Andromeda shouted as she tried to keep on target.

Odysseus put on his audio. “You have reached the Institute of Advanced Studies Security Division hotline,” a female automated voice said. “For general issues, please press 1. For radiation concerns, please press 2. For laboratory and Knowledge Tower access, please press 3....”

“Ugh, I can’t believe they kept that old phone line. Just tell her 8, that’s for genetic experiments! And see what info you can find on this thing, maybe it has a weakness!”

“Copy that,” Odysseus said. He returned momentarily. “I found a paper from a few months ago on some sort of radiotrophic lizard hybrid. It appears Dr. Andros was creating a hybrid between iguanas, chameleons, frilled lizards, and gila monsters. He then injected the genomes from radiation-consuming fungi from Chernobyl. It seems that the unexpected consequence of all this was that it became giant.”

“Sometimes I wish the scientists here would not try so hard, just for once,” Andromeda groaned.

“Pot calling the kettle black,” Odysseus shot back, “Considering you just built a robot capable of leveling an entire city.”

Despite the pilot and gunner’s best efforts, the lizard was unhindered by the mech’s deft maneuvering and volleys of railgun fire. It made a final leap at the robot. Claws screeched and sparked as they tore jagged ruts into the armor. Knocked off balance, the mechanical titan crashed into one of the Institute monorail lines as it fell to the street below. However, as the lizard attempted to rend the mech into slivers of twisted metal, Artemisia fought back with a pummeling series of blows to the skull from the robot’s hardened fists, cracking two of the reptile’s head spines. Andromeda lined up a shot from the right missile pod at the creature’s neck and let loose with a barrage of rockets. A thick cloud of black exhaust obscured the visual sensors until the projectiles struck their target. The detonation of twenty 120 millimeter, 30 kilogram high explosive warheads burst into rosettes of orange and white flame, blasting the iguana off the mech. It crashed into a nearby Knowledge Tower, sending a spider web of deep cracks through the crystalline structure. The creature’s chest rose and fell as it struggled to breathe through a pounded windpipe.

Security ornithopters soared overhead, illuminating the battle with searchlights. The cavalry had arrived. The lizard’s chameleonic eyes scanned in opposite directions at the swarm of machines flitting and hovering about it like a plague of locusts. Suddenly, they locked together on a single target, and a sticky mucus-coated tongue shot forth, swatting the surprised ornithopter from the air and drawing the now-smoking flyer towards its maw. The monster crunched down on the airframe, rotors, wings, and all, groaned, and then spit the battered wreck out before its burning fuel tanks detonated.

The other ornithopters launched dozens of electrified cables at the beast. Only a dozen or so managed to penetrate its thick hide. The high voltage shock that coursed through the cables was enough to vaporize a human being, but to the monster it was but a mildly painful tingle that made it rear up in annoyance. Two ornithopters lost control as they were flung about by their cables. One crashed into a tower in a gout of flame.

“Odysseus, how long to charge the neutron cannon?” Andromeda asked.

“Untested!” One of Artemisia’s androids had snuck aboard and popped its head out of its master’s cleavage.

“We don’t have a choice,” Andromeda fired back.

The lizard broke free from the rest of the cables, lime ichor oozing from its wounds, and again charged the largest threat: the mech. Its great lizard brain could barely process the events before it. Where had the tiny food gone when it had been so close? Why did the giant human attack it with its fiery bursting shoulder darts? When did flies shoot electrified stingers from their mouths? Right now, it really wished only to chomp on a radioactive bug and sun itself on a giant rock.

“Nothing we’ve tried so far can take this thing down,” Andromed said. “What other options do we have?”

The robotic stowaway climbed onto Artemisia’s head. Artemisia turned back, nodded, and gave Andromeda the thumbs up.

“For the record, at current power usage of 98.5%, the neutron flux will reach capacity to charge the cannon in sixty seconds,” Odysseus reported.

Andromeda’s brain ran through a few calculations, powered only by adrenaline and the last few drops of Chimera still in her system. Her throat was dry and achy, and her head pounded. “That’s too long!” she cried, letting loose another salvo of rockets which sent black streaks of smoke spiraling through the air. Enraged burst after burst of railgun fire ripped forth in a near laminoid stream of ionized metal shards.

“I’m giving her all she’s got, captain!” Odysseus yelled back.

Artemisia juked the robot sharply to duck under a heavy claw swipe, just barely avoiding smashing into a tower. With enough distance between them, the mech battered the creature with its fists, a storm of missiles from both remaining pods, and shredding railgun blasts; but the iguana, though heaving in pain, absorbed it all and desperately attempted to dish it back out with strike after glancing strike. Artemisia feinted left, and the beast fell for it, allowing her to get a solid strike to its side, followed up with another bombardment from the twin guns.

“We need to finish this now,” Andromeda said. “We’re out of rockets and the railguns aren’t doing anything but piss him off.”

Artemisia nodded emphatically.

“Odd, can you get the reactor to 120%?” Andromeda asked. “Override the power control systems and get us as much neutron flux as possible without turning us into a mushroom cloud. Discharge the overload into the mech’s fists.”

“That’s highly dangerous,” Odysseus said.

“Can you do it?” Andromeda asked.

Odysseus processed for a second. “I can,” he said.

The reactor below the cockpit rumbled louder as more and more hydrogen fed the miniature star powering the mech.

“I can only keep this up for two minutes,” Odysseus said. “Otherwise we risk a magnetic quench when the cooling system fails. You’ll only have one shot.”

“That’s all I need,” Andromeda said, pulling the neutron cannon targeting reticule into view.

Artemisia landed a series of now-electrified blows to the lizard’s soft underbelly. Arcs of lightning flew from the mech’s fists as excess power flowed into them. The creature wheezed and croaked; its eyeballs swirled in different directions in their sockets. The stunned iguana was forced to the ground, giving Artemisia a chance to fire the boosters and vault the mech backwards.

“Neutron cannon is fully charged!” Odysseus shouted. “Fire now!”

“I’m getting a clean shot!” Andromeda yelled back. Artemisia stabilized the right arm on the mech’s left hand and drove its feet firmly into the ground.

The monstrous lizard gave a plaintive roar, opening its maw to reveal its venom-coated serrated jaws.

“Now!” Andromeda cried and pulled the trigger.

The neutron flux capacitors released their deadly payload into the cannon’s firing chamber. A crackling electric hum rose in frequency and amplitude until, at the resonance peak, a white-hot beam of magnetized neutron plasma flooded forward through the barrel of the cannon and rushed towards their target. The atmosphere split with a sonic twang as the sheer firepower tore the air apart. The beam colored the mech and its reptilian prey in a high contrast monochromatic glare, pure white and black shadow, as it flashed forth. The visual sensors were blinded, but the beam struck true, piercing right through the roof of the monstrous hooded gila chameleo-iguana’s jaws and out the back of its skull, leaving behind a charred, perfectly circular smoldering hole. The creature roared its earth-shattering cry one last time, then collapsed in a crumpled heap, completely still.

Artemisia breathed a sigh of relief, then turned to face her co-pilot. In her very soft voice, she said, “It worked.”

“What the fuck!” Andromeda cried. “You can talk?”

Artemisia shrugged.

=010000010110111001100100011100100110111101101101011001010110010001100001=

Security dealt with the corpse of the now-dead monster and the damage the battle had inflicted. Considering Institute scientists wrote most of the algorithms used by insurance companies, their coverage was very generous. Plus, the Institute had a very large endowment for just such accidents as these. Knowledge Towers would need to be reseeded, pavement would need to be repaired, and the A7 monorail line would need to be temporarily rerouted and eventually rebuilt. Fortunately, the strength of the crystalline structures and introverted nature of Institute scientists had prevented any serious injuries or deaths from the battle. The ornithopter pilots had all safely escaped their craft before they were destroyed.

After Security took their testimony and thanked them for their invaluable assistance in preventing a full-blown disaster, Artemisia piloted the mech back to its hangar without incident. The two scientists unstrapped themselves from the cockpit and heaved sighs of relief. Some small bruises and batterings dotted the two girls from the blows the mech took from the lizard, but otherwise the armor plating, cockpit stabilizers, and seat harnesses had done their job. “Well, that was certainly enough adventure for a lifetime,” Andromeda said as they made their way along the catwalk back to the anteroom.

Artemisia nodded, having returned to her usual silence. Her robotic companion climbed down her shoulder to join its compatriots standing at attention along the railings in celebration of their master’s return.

They changed out of their jumpsuits back into their equally ill-fitting casual clothes. Andromeda tried fruitlessly to get her sweatshirt entirely over her stomach and gave up with a sigh, leaving a sliver of pink belly to hang out of the undersized garment. She picked up the cryonic beam from the couch and stowed it next to her laptop under her arm, then made her way towards the cargo lift. “I’m gonna go pass out in my room,” she said, yawning. Her eyes had deep purple bags and she could barely keep their lids open. “It was... fun, I guess. Collaborating with you was fun.”

Artemisia fumbled with her hands and stared at the floor for a moment, but then nodded. She smiled and gave Andromeda a thumbs up, which the other scientist returned. The entire corps of androids turned to Andromeda, gave the same gesture, and then saluted as she began her journey back up the tower.

After a long night of sleep, Andromeda awoke the next afternoon when someone knocked on her dorm room door. “Is Vanya out of the hospital?” she muttered, padding over in the same outfit she’d worn yesterday except for the change of a pair of slippers for her tennis shoes. Answering it, one of the androids toddered up to Andromeda with a bright red and gold box, bearing artwork of a dark green mech with a fluttering black cape and the title Mechanical Warrior: General Zhukov, held above its head.“Artemisia wants to hang out,” the robot said.

Andromeda blinked. “Uh, sure,” she said.

“Bring the ice cream gun,” the robot added.

“Oh, yeah. Let me just ask my A.I. to do something first. Odd?”

“Yes, Andromeda?” Odysseus said from her laptop.

“Can you put out an order for a case of Chimera?” Andromeda asked. “Gonna go hang out with Artemisia, figured I might as well be prepared to stay awake for a little while. Just in case we need to build, I don’t know, an entire starship in order to fight aliens or something.”

“Of course,” Odysseus said. He appeared to be thinking for a moment. “Unfortunately, all the Chimera appears to be gone.”

“What do you mean all the Chimera is gone?” Andromeda shrieked.

Odysseus chuckled. “Hm. Yes. It seems that the acidic venom of Dr. Andros’ genetic experiment was, if processed and diluted correctly, I quote, ‘a perfectly sour flavoring agent; a strong, reversible adenosine blocker; and a good source of calories.’”

Andromeda frowned.

“In addition to making those terrible beverages taste good, it also works in tandem with caffeine to reduce drowsiness,” Odysseus reiterated.

“I know what that means,” Andromeda shot back.

“Also, it was highly... nevermind,” Odysseus began, but cut off as his holographic eyes nearly imperceptibly shifted to the waning crescent of belly fat that hung out of Andromeda’s sweatshirt. “Apparently that is why they were keeping around in the Deep Labs instead of just euthanizing it. The case you polished off a few hours ago was the last one ever produced for the Institute.”

Artemisia somehow heard Andromeda’s frenzied shouting of invectives and curses from the room next door.

[undergroundarling]

Scrawny's Feelings

When I was six or seven years old, my father would pick me up every night to take me to my grandparents' apartment for dinner with his nine siblings. Dinners were always chaotic, loud crossed conversations, shouts, fights, laughter, mistreatment and complicit glances when choosing who was to be mocked that night, amidst the default background noise of any Argentine family, a soccer game or a meaningless telenovela. The sounds colluding would have made anyone want to rip their ears out. My grandmother would go back and forth from the kitchen to the dining room, bringing food, sodas, napkins, etc. There was always a reason for her to get up. If she tried to sit down and eat with everyone without being interrupted, my grandfather would yell at her from his designated place to go get something, while he sat there watching tv and being immune to everything that was happening around him. I watched in silence, almost like studying them, and wondering how I could be related to them. To this day I don’t understand it. I never felt comfortable with so much movement and noise. Everynight, I tried to eat quickly to return home as soon as possible, but my dad would always say that I had to wait because he still hadn't finished. Having dinner, discussing the football game, or chatting about something trivial, then finally lighting a cigarette on the table, the wait was endless. While I waited, everyone would scold me for eating little, they used to say I was scrawny, that if I caught a cold I was going to die and that it was going to be my mother's fault. I learned to ignore them and focus on nothing itself. 

Once my dad crowned the night with a cigarette on the balcony, I would hear him say “let's go” and then begin the ritual of greeting each one of my relatives, which always took me at least fifteen minutes. My uncles’ would ignore me, my grandparents would hug me and say nice things to me, my great-grandmother would give me money on the sly and I would then head out the door. As we walked the few meters that separated the buildings where my paternal grandparents and my maternal grandparents lived, my dad used to ask me the same question every night: "Are you sad?" and I always responded by saying "no". My silence and my childish contemplative look for some reason made him believe that something bad was happening inside me. Maybe he was right  and my instinct was to say "no" but the reality is that I don't remember anything significant, which leads me to think that I simply carry hints of nostalgia on my face.

The truth is that I was always a melancholic person, even as a child, I was always missing what had already happened and trying to replicate it, or waiting for it to happen again, which obviously frustrated me. The days gone by always seemed sunnier to me, the food richer, the laughter louder, the love more intense, the smells more pleasant, and the existence more bearable. It's hard for me to enjoy the present and to appreciate what's going on around me. The few times I feel whole and at peace, no one is around to witness it. Among others, the gaze is always nostalgic, the feelings frozen, the mind gone and the words lost or vomited in badly ordered sentences. It has been this way since I can remember. Could it be that he saw this in me at such a young age? I don’t know and I don't think so. 

This memory has been lingering in my mind for the past few days. I remember spring and summer nights more than winter nights, the cool and soft wind blowing through the buildings, the green noise of the plants moving, the huge moon accompanying us on those stone paths, the red windows opened with their curtains hanging out of the frames, the neighbors sitting on the stairs and sidewalks drinking mate and chatting, as if it were three in the afternoon. I remember the smell of grass, of the flowers next to the building’s entrance. I also remember the farewell hugs with my dad, the warmth of his arms, the touch of his hands caressing my head and the smell of cigarettes in his thick dark hair. In those days, there was nothing to indicate to me that he would eventually stop asking if I was sad, or that he would also stop picking me up for dinner, or that sometimes he would pretend I wasn't real.

[sweetmastermind]

You have great trip with ur family 🤍😄

_you re argentin, what is your fav celebrity here?

I can't completely say it was great 😅  got pissed off a few times with some family members but the rest was really good!

and well i personally not really fond of celebrities here, its just people that just make trouble to get noise (except one or two that could be Flor de la V, Lizzy Tagliani, Maju lozano that are more on the tv and do some news)

[neptunianashes]

9 out of 10 people in the streets have the argentine jersey, every car, train and bus is making noise, people are chanting in the train, i love this energyyyy