#Moisture Control System | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

explorevenus · 1 month

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dirty laundry ♡ re6!leon kennedy x puppy hybrid!reader

nsfw (18+) - minors dni or i will call ur mom. and also the cops

word count: 5.1k

tags/warnings: re6!leon, stubborn/reluctant puppy reader who pretends she hates him, brief chris redfield appearance, forced proximity (kinda), leon pining for u (he wants u to call him daddy btw), hybrid heat cycle shenanigans, thigh riding, dry humping, oral sex (f receiving), fingering (f receiving), no use of y/n

description: leon's had a tough time figuring out his new puppy hybrid roommate... outside of the fact that she's sweet on him, and just won't admit it. lucky for leon, he comes home from a mission to find her airing her dirty laundry.

a/n: this piece was commissioned by my beloved and adored @pupthepokemonenthusiast who is one of MY FAVORITE PEOPLE ON EARTH EVER ?!!!! and i luv yapping w them and that makes collaborating w them such a dream every time....

divider by @cafekitsune !!

my masterlist ♡

my ao3 ♡

fic under the cut, thanks so much for reading and i hope u enjoy ;w;

-venus ♡

Loose gravel crunched beneath Leon's boots, uneven pavement glittering with moisture in the streetlights. It was somewhere between raining and snowing, the wind splattering his rosy cheeks with little drops of condensation, every breath puffing out in a visible cloud, head tilted down at just the right angle to protect the lower half of his bruised face from the cold while still being able to see where he was going.

He didn't have a specific destination in mind, and truth be told, he couldn't really read most of the signage around here anyway-- it was all in Mandarin, and his Mandarin was even less reliable than his Spanish, to put it gently. But he could read what he needed to, at least, enough to find the basics like food, bathrooms, lodging, or hospitals, and more importantly, he could discern the backlit lettering above the shop two doors down; antiques and collectibles.

That was a phrase he'd familiarized himself with in damn near every language under the sun by now.

A bell dinged quietly overhead as he stepped into the storefront, grateful that it was even open past 9 o'clock at night. It was only one room and didn't have much space to walk around, but every available surface was stacked to the brim with knick-knacks of all shapes, colors, sizes, and price points under no apparent system of organization. Where some might be overwhelmed or put off by the volume of things to look at, Leon felt his heart skip a beat with excitement. He still had some time to kill before his transport back to the States was due to arrive, and not a single minute of it would be wasted overlooking any potential gems.

Judging by the horrified stares he was attracting, Leon could imagine he looked fucking insane right now, clothes still splattered with wet, rotting blood and the barrel of his gun practically still smoking in his holster as he towered over a shelf in the back corner, scrutinizing a darling little plush bear in one hand and a set of hand-painted matryoshka dolls in the other like it was the hardest decision he would ever have to make.

Ultimately, he chose not to decide at all-- money wasn't a factor, so why not buy both? If it weren't for the issue of luggage, he'd just say 'fuck it' and buy out the whole damn store. Unfortunately, helicopters tended to be quite limited in space.

Self control was a skill Leon used to have mastered, perhaps even too well-- for a long time, every uncomfortable, unsightly, pesky little emotion was pressed down into a condensed cube to be neatly packed away in the very back corners of his brain, boxes upon boxes of dense feelings continuing to pile up and take over more and more space up there until the pressure became too much, the lid blew, and he went off the fucking handle. It wasn't something he was proud of by any means, all those long months blurred into mush through a lens of alcoholism and other reckless behaviors, but what he did try to let himself be proud of was his relative success in making it to the other side.

That, of course, was a feat he did not accomplish without help, nor would he ever claim to. Chris Redfield was instrumental in his recovery in more ways than one, and at times, without even realizing it. He was a listening ear, a dealer of tough love, a trusted confidant...

...and the reason he had you.

For obvious reasons, Leon had never gone out of his way to get a pet in his adult life. It just felt irresponsible with the inconsistency and uncertainty of his work situation, even with all the money in the world to spend on trainers and walkers and boarding and... whatever else, but at that point, it would feel less like a pet than an accessory, and Leon didn't have much interest in material. Never saw the need for it. Then one day Chris woke him up in the middle of the night banging on the door to his apartment with a gift he never expected.

"She's a... what?"

"A hybrid. She's a human-canine hybrid, Leon."

Leon glanced between you and Chris with skepticism in his eyes, only to find the same look peering back at him in you. It was almost kind of funny that he'd have a hard time believing there could be such a thing as a human-canine hybrid, considering all he'd seen in his line of work, a thought that made his shoulders and his expression relax almost instantly.

You were a real cutie, that was for sure, tucked behind Chris and staring up at Leon through your eyelashes with this grumpy little look on your face, a plush, patchwork bear clutched to your chest. The toy was equally as vibrant and colorful as your clothing, if not a bit worn with time. Your ears were long and droopy, your tail hanging low but swishing side-to-side with cautious interest, and the longer he studied you, the more he became endeared by you.

"The B.S.A.A. rescued a group of hybrids from an illegal facility a few weeks ago, but finding accommodations for them isn't as simple as it sounds," Chris continued, resting a hand on your shoulder in an apparent move to reassure you. "Long story short, the people who were in charge of that facility aren't too happy about the acquisition, and the hybrids aren't safe at the B.S.A.A. anymore. Would you be willing to shelter her for a while?"

The firm look in Chris' eyes-- and the fact that he just had to bring this up with you right in front of him-- made it clear he wasn't really asking. No mind, Leon would have done it anyway. It just would have been nice to have had a heads up to rectify the state of the apartment.

"Yeah, of course," Leon nodded gently, stepping aside to allow you and Chris further into the apartment. "Make yourself at home." He caught the way your head tilted up a bit, as if you were studying the scent in the air, and he supposed it made sense that you likely were.

That was four months ago. And for the past four months, Leon quite enjoyed having you around. You were silly and playful, always bounding around the apartment with a toy clenched between your teeth or lounging in the sunny spots in front of the windows, pawing at him for belly rubs and treats and infinite tug-o-war matches. All that being said, you were equally stubborn, resisting him at every turn like magnetic repulsion, always kicking up a fuss seemingly just for the sake of it.

He wasn't sure. You were tough to read. Not only did some of your canine personality traits make you a bit forgetful and distractible at times, but you were also just terribly inconsistent with your affections, and he wasn't always sure what to make of it. All he knew was that he was determined to win you over in one way or another, and if he was going to do that, he'd have to figure you out first, and so far that was shaping up to be quite the herculean task. At least it seemed you would be here for a while.

With the way he guarded your little treasures during the flight home, one might assume he was smuggling something, but he just couldn't stomach the thought of coming home without something to present to you. The hardened federal agent was determined to crack a smile out of you on his terms, to get you to admit what you both knew to be true.

You had a crush on him. A big, fat, embarrassingly all-encompassing crush on him, and you rejected the idea of owning up to it so staunchly that it was turning you into a bit of a brat. That was the one thing he could read about you, and it drove you up the wall.

He certainly wasn't judging you. It would be an absurd lie to say he didn't have a big, fat, embarrassingly all-encompassing crush on you too-- he'd be insane if he didn't. But the back and forth was far too enjoyable, and Leon was always up for a good natured challenge.

See, self control was something Leon had worked really, really hard to regain a handle on, and when it came to his drinking and brooding, he certainly had... but when it came to you? Not by a longshot. That being said, he would rather be pouring himself into courting you than pouring himself another bourbon. That's what he used to shut up that little voice in the back of his head that questioned whether or not he was putting too much energy into this, banking too much on it.

It was innocent, right? It's not like you were a bad influence or whatever. If anything, a lot of nights that he would have spent at the bar were instead being spent at home playing with you. Surely that had to be a net positive, especially considering you would have otherwise been getting poked and prodded at in a lab.

Stepping back into the apartment for the first time in weeks, Leon hadn't even bothered bringing his duffel bag in with him from the car, the only thing in his arms being the wrinkled paper bag from that antique shop. His own belongings could wait. As soon as he shut and locked the door behind him, stepping out of his shoes, the first thing he noticed was how quiet it was.

No lively music from the shows you liked to watch, no little bumps or growls from you playing toys, no quiet padding of your feet across the hardwood from you coming to see who was at the door. He glanced at his watch, finding it was only half past nine in the evening, and while you often proclaimed to abide by a healthy bedtime for yourself, you had a habit of napping all day and bouncing off the walls all night. Something was amiss.

Stepping further into the apartment to investigate the scene, Leon peered into the living room. The lights were on, the TV was off, there were a few toys strewn about the couch and the floor, but not a glimpse of the sweet puppy who left them there. Odd. Suspicious. Maybe even staged.

His lips came together in a whistle meant to grab your attention, knowing your sharp ears would hear it from anywhere in the apartment, even if you were sleeping. When that call garnered no response, he began to wonder if you were mad at him. After all, he was supposed to return almost three days ago, and while Chris had been able to stop by and check on you when he had the time, it just wasn't the same, and you didn't do well with loneliness, and Leon knew that.

Turning on his heel to head deeper into the apartment, he continued to find you nowhere. Not climbing the countertops in the kitchen, or playing under the dining table, or even reluctantly having a bath. As he reached the end of the short hallway, there were only two doors left to open.

Leon tried another whistle and called out, "Hey, pup? I'm home!"

He waited, and listened... and heard nothing. Your bedroom door was closed, and it looked like the light was on in there, judging by the subtle glow spilling out beneath it, but still, no response.

His bedroom door, however, was cracked open. The overhead light was off but the bedside lamp was on, and his dirty laundry basket was tipped over on the floor. When he stepped forward to turn it upright again, he thought he saw the bedding shuffle out of the corner of his eye. Closer inspection of the bed brought the case of his missing puppy girl drew to a close. Your soft tail was peeking out beneath the edge of the covers, the markings and patterns in your fur being undeniably familiar to him now.

It was perfect timing, really-- he was just about to tip over into the realm of worrying about your safety, but now he was back to just worrying you were mad at him... and he couldn't help the amused grin that tugged at his expression.

"Is that a little puppy in daddy's bed?" He asked aloud, his tone taking on a smitten and adoring lilt. Once again, he received no response... at least not verbally. Quietly setting down that paper bag, he stood there and watched with his arms crossed as your tail fluttered to life in response to his tone, the tip silently patting the sheets in a lazy and reluctant little wag that you might have actually gotten away with, if it weren't for the fact that your tail was in plain view.

He was initially going to try a few more times to get a response out of you, hoping to make sure you were okay and to see if you wanted to talk, but he quickly realized that wasn't going to work with you. You weren't all doom and gloom like he tended to be, you were silly, you were playful, you were fundamentally kind. A lighthearted approach wouldn't work with him, or with most of the people he dealt with on a day-to-day basis, but it would almost certainly work with you.

"Well," Leon stretched his arms up with a dramatic groan, "Since there's no puppies in the bed..."

And then he playfully toppled over the lump in the bedding, bracing himself on his elbows so as not to actually crush you, of course, music to his ears being the muffled squeal of stubborn discontent that sounded out from beneath the covers.

"Leon!" You whined, arms squirming around beneath him in a desperate flurry of moves to find the edge of the blanket, tugging it down to free your face for some air. Soon enough your head poked out from beneath the covers and your eyes were already narrowed into unamused slits at him.

But that wasn't really what caught his attention about the look on your face. You were panting for breath, your ears flopped back lazily and your hair an absolute mess, your skin hot to the touch and clammy with sweat. Now his eyes were narrowed at you in suspicion, because you were certainly frustrated, just... not the kind of frustrated he was anticipating, if his suspicions were found to be correct.

"You look guilty," He commented, brow raised as he took you by the chin and tilted your head this way and that, as though in observation. "Why do you look guilty, puppy?"

"I'm not," You were quick to defend yourself-- much too quick, in Leon's opinion-- and you stubbornly recoiled back from his hand, continuing to squirm and resist beneath him. "You're squishing me!"

You planted the palm of your hand dead in the center of his face in an attempt to push him away, the bedding slipping further down in the process to reveal your flushed collarbones and shoulders, both of which were bare. Were you naked? In his bed?

He took you by the wrists to pin your hands down with ease, staring down at you in scrutiny. "Don't lie to me, sweetheart," He said, tone firm, but not unkind. "You're red as a tomato."

With a stubborn whine, your ears flattened back against your messy head in what could only be read as shame, and that certainly wasn't what he was going for at all, even with the compromising position he had you in at the moment. It was just meant to tease you, but you looked mortified, and he could only imagine why that might be.

"Puppy," He softened, letting go of your wrists, one hand taking you by the cheek to gently caress you. "You know I can't help you if you don't tell me what's going on."

Your mouth fell open and then snapped shut again a time or two, a clear indication that you were tripping over your words in search of the right ones. Finally, you managed, "It's... I-It's hot."

"Then why are you all bundled up, huh?"

You didn't even really need to admit it at this point, because it was clear as day what was going on here-- after all, Chris had warned him this might happen, that hybrids could have... intense reproductive cycles-- but he also wasn't going to push it if you just wanted to ride it out on your own. He wasn't an expert on this, he didn't know exactly what you needed, and he didn't want to overstep and freak you out.

That being said, the thought that you'd retreated to his bedroom, desperate to surround yourself with his belongings in his absence just to cope with being in heat, was a remarkably good one.

This time you didn't seem to have a retort, still writhing under him and trying to push him off of you, which wasn't new behavior for you, though this time he did take it upon himself to give you some space instead of continuing to mess with you.

"Alright, alright, relax, daddy's not making fun of you--"

"You're not my daddy," You interjected stubbornly, but just like always, the rosy, searing blush on your face betrayed how you really felt about the topic, even as you added, "Stop trying to make me call you that!"

Leon dearly and sincerely adored you, that much was to be sure, but your hard-headedness could run him ragged sometimes, when you'd dig your heels in so hard about things that seemed so innocuous. Whether or not you should be expected to call him daddy-- which he regularly enjoyed teasing you about but would never legitimately force you to do-- didn't feel like the biggest issue at hand here. Not by a mile.

How was he supposed to focus on that when you were just... burning up? Panting for breath and shaking and whining? Oh dear God, this wasn't good, and for as much effort as he was putting into focusing on your wellbeing, it was becoming increasingly difficult not to focus on the way his pants were beginning to feel uncomfortably cozy in the front. He brought one hand down between you to adjust himself only to find he'd unintentionally solicited a faint, but distinctly needy moan from you in the process, presumably because you'd touched you somewhere he hadn't necessarily meant to.

"G-Go away, Leon," You insisted, eyes screwed shut as you turned your head to the side and maintained that stubborn frown he knew so well on you. "Get off of me!"

But your tail was wagging in an absolute blur, thumping mindlessly against the damp sheets and knocking in between his knees at an intensity that was impossible to miss. Leon's eyes narrowed and he bared his teeth in an intrigued grin before finally sitting back on his haunches, still straddling you, but at least freeing your upper half.

"Leon, quit--"

You poor dear, you were so, so close to finishing that sentence, if only it weren't for the way Leon swung one leg between your own, driving his knee right up to the apex until you felt the muted pressure lavish your clit. Whatever you were about to say fizzled out on your tongue and instead popped out in a string of whimpers, your back arching up off the bed. The movement caused the bedding to slip down just a little bit further, confirming his suspicion that you were in fact naked, at least from the waist up.

Taking the soft globe of your breast into the palm of his hand, Leon let his thumb brush over your already pebbled nipple and asked lowly, "Oh, c'mon, pretty puppy... you're totally sure you don't want daddy's help? I think you're just being fussy..."

Your chest rumbled with a little growl, but it was more of a moan than that, and the fiery glare on your face was the perfect image of it. You were pissed, and quite frankly, it was a good look on you. Maybe even one of his favorites. Suddenly you were baring your teeth at him too, just pretending it was in the opposite way. You were such an open book to him.

"You're being mean," Huffed the stubborn little puppy, but of course, Leon could be meaner.

So he was. Leon snatched the covers off the bed in one quick swipe, and what was revealed to him beneath had to have been a thousand times better than anything he might have expected. You were naked, yes, but tangled between your legs was a pair of his sweatpants, undoubtedly retrieved from the depths of the overturned laundry basket, the grey cotton soaked through in patches with slick all over the crotch and thighs.

Fucking Christ, you weren't just getting off to the thought of him, but also the scent of him, the feeling of his clothes on your skin, and presumably, an idea not unlike what he was already teasing you with; letting you rub one out on his thigh.

Squishing your cheeks in one hand, he said firmly, "Look at me. Do you honestly feel like I'm being mean to you?"

There was a pause while you stared at each other, your eyes searching his own skeptically. It didn't really seem he was messing with you, no, in fact he appeared like he really wanted to help you. The back and forth was fun and he enjoyed the little game you'd made out of getting to know each other, but when it came to your comfort and wellbeing, he wasn't interested in being forced to solve puzzles. You couldn't really blame him.

"N-No," You admitted.

"Exactly, so just... simmer down, will you?"

This time Leon didn't give you another chance to tell him to fuck off. He scooped you up at the waist and pulled you to your knees, drawing your body close to his until you were straddling his left thigh. Eyes wide, you stared at him stiffly, like you were too afraid to move. Huffing out a breath, he rolled his eyes with a smirk and gripped your hips, tugging you down until you were finally bearing your weight on him.

For as fast as your pointed teeth sank into your bottom lip to quiet yourself, it didn't even matter. You still let out a pleasured whine, ears flat against your head and your tail hung low, the tip swishing in a reluctant little wag that patted the outside of his knee with every other beat.

"You're too precious for your own damn good," He grumbled, thumbs brushing soothing circles into your hips. "Y'know that, pup?"

Breaths falling short, it felt like your head was full of warm mud, teetering for balance on your neck as your upper body tipped forward to grasp at his arms. As expected, Leon caught you effortlessly, steadying you by cupping your face in his hands so he could look you right in your braindead little eyes, your noses almost touching as your tongue lolled out in lazy gasps.

It was obvious he wasn't going to get much more out of you in the way of words at this point, so it was a damn good thing you had that pretty tail knocking about. He figured all that wiggling was the closest he'd get to a literal window into your mind.

"Go on, then," Leon smoothed your hair away from your sticky forehead, still mindful to hold you upright. His tone was low and, as always, far too sweet for you... but it was so nice, it vibrated down to the base of your spine and made you dizzier. You were just about to fulfill what he was encouraging you to do when he added wryly, "You've already made such a mess, don't get shy on me now."

A quiet whimper stuttered from your dry throat-- you couldn't sit still anymore, he was being evil and he knew it, downright evil... and you typically would have stuck up your nose at him and brooded on it for a while, but you didn't even have the strength of mind for that at the moment. You hardly even realized you were already rocking your hips back and forth against the clothed meat of his thigh, nails threatening to snap under the pressure as they begged to sink past his shirt and into his muscles.

It was pleasant, sure, but it wasn't nearly enough, especially not after hours and hours and hours of tossing and turning in his bed, rubbing yourself nearly numb with your fingers and your toys and his pillows and his clothes, aching for something tangible and warm to nurse the pain away. You let your forehead rest against his own for a moment to catch your breath, hoping to find the right angle, but you just weren't getting what you needed, and the frustration alone made your glassy eyes sting with the threat of tears.

That just wouldn't do.

"Oh, you really made a mess, didn't you, sweet girl?" Leon cooed sympathetically, shushing your delicate cries. Thumbs skimming over your burning cheeks, he asked quietly and carefully, "Why don't you let daddy lick it up, hm?"

Your expression scrunched up in a weak pout and your empty little head bobbed up and down in an airy nod, and just as soon as you gave him that go-ahead, he was moving to make it so. You were on your back in seconds, Leon's broad hands spreading your plush thighs apart to make space for himself between them, and for as cool and composed as he was trying to appear right now, he couldn't help the low moan that made it past him just at the sight of you.

Sure, he'd seen more than enough by now to guess that you were wet, but you weren't just wet, you were dripping all over yourself. It was all he could do to collect as much of you on his tongue as possible, groaning at the taste and dragging you closer by your hips until he was as close as he could get, the tip of his nose buried against the curls at the lowest point of your mound as he lapped you up with abandon.

You were writhing and crying, legs kicking out at the stimulation before drawing back up to dig into his shoulders and pull him further into you, into the mess of you. He'd managed to find it somehow, to become that something tangible and warm and redefine it, unraveling you from the root with a sanguine sense of desperation that was tempered by his undying commitment to treating you like you were made of glass.

Your tail was curling up tight against the base of your spine, your chest was heaving for breath, you couldn't keep your eyes open anymore, and he hardly could either.

But he also couldn't stand not to. If you had the capacity to pay attention to small details, you might have noticed his eyes were just as bleary and drunk as yours were. Leon recorded your every movement in his mind like scripture from this angle, his own hips rutting down into the bed while yours bucked into his mouth, and it was only when he found the strength to pull away for air that he found a moment to reorient himself in reality.

His lips were puffy, rosy, and slick with you as he caught his breath, two fingers toying with your puffy, aching clit in the absence of his tongue. It was almost like muscle memory for him to reach up with his free hand and pat your belly, an affectionate hum ringing from him at the near-immediate reaction it got out of you, even in a state like this. You were squirming and arching beneath him as your quivering body fought to determine priority over the attention brought by either hand, a rather endearing dilemma to have found yourself in.

"Oh, my poor baby," Leon preened, lavishing the inside of your right thigh with kisses. "You're so cute..."

Unable to help himself from letting you have the best of both forms of pampering, he replaced the tips of his fingers with his tongue yet again, freeing both hands to pet your soft tummy. The movements were lazy, but sure enough, your tail was going off as fast as it could while you laid there shivering and whining and clawing at him, tumbling over the edge into release before you could come up with a way to warn him first.

As if he would have cared anyway. A warning wouldn't have changed anything. Hell, it might have even spoiled what turned out to be a dizzying moment of unabashed indulgence for him.

Gentle, adoring hands kneading delicately at all your favorite spots, Leon willfully deprived himself of oxygen in pursuit of every drop of your syrup as it flowed from you, knowing he would come to regret being wasteful later if this should turn out to be a one-time thing. He lost himself to the throes of hedonism for several drawn out moments until he was confident you were licked clean, until he came to again and realized you had gone completely limp in the wake of your expenditure.

Rolling over onto his back, Leon spread out just as bonelessly across the bed as you did, the both of you a sorry sight of sweat and heat. He spent several minutes trying to find a way to break the silence. With the haze of lust wearing off a bit and clearing up space in his mind for more intelligent processes, Leon was already beginning to dread the inevitable conversation this would warrant between the two of you.

Lucky for him, that was so far outside of the realm of your current train of thought... or lack thereof. You certainly felt better, but that didn't mean your brain wasn't mud anymore. Little else mattered to your muggy, muddled mind but the here and now.

In an unexpected move, you rolled onto your side to rest your head against his chest. The way you struggled to meet his eyes was enough for him to know you were likely still struggling to talk, or maybe you just didn't really want to, but the olive branch you'd extended demonstrated your agreeable state, which was more than he could've said for you half an hour ago.

Shit, half an hour ago he was still hoping a couple presents from his trip would win your affections, yet here he was with the taste of you lingering on his lips, your naked body curled up to him for comfort.

Wrapping his arm tightly around you until you were tucked up comfortably into his side, Leon rested his chin atop your head and mumbled fondly, "What am I gonna do with you, huh? Can't even sleep in my own bed after a long mission 'cause this pretty little puppy made such a big mess... I hope you know how to work the washing machine."

#venustext #sintext #resident evil #leon kennedy #leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy x you #re6 leon #leon kennedy smut

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lockheed-martin-unofficial · 2 months

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In Transformers Prime, Cybertronians are apparently vulnerable to extreme cold. (“You know prolonged exposure to sub-zero conditions can cause permanent system damage.” -Ratchet, S1 E7)

They are in danger of freezing when they go to the Arctic which continuously becomes a plot point, but somehow handle themselves just fine in space which is definitely way colder. Which leads me to believe it’s probably not the cold itself that’s dangerous to them, but the moisture in the air that freezes up around all their joints and crevices that immobilizes them.

The humidity in the Arctic is actually quite low, but in a snowstorm (like the one we see in S1 E7 where Optimus and Arcee nearly die) the snow that hits their bodies could totally melt from their body heat only to re-freeze around them as clear ice, expediting the process. It would gradually make it more and more difficult to move.

It’s like the clear icing that planes encounter when they fly through moist air, where supercooled water droplets freeze on their surfaces and make it difficult to move the control surfaces on the wings. Which is why I imagine flyers are probably more resistant to the cold+moisture conditions, since they already have built-in anti icing. Starscream does complain about the cold a lot in S2 E13, but that might just be Starscream being Starscream, or just trying to manipulate the others into letting their guard down. Dreadwing and the flying vehicons don’t appear very bothered, but then again neither does Optimus, so that one is staying as a headcanon for now. Maybe Starscream is bothered because he doesn’t have paint for extra insulation.

Optimus does say “the current temperatures are not extreme enough to affect our biology.” during that episode, and when he does there’s only a little bit of snow, which might confirm that when they say “temperature” they actually mean “moisture”. I don’t know.

#transformers #transformers prime #tfp #headcanons #transformers headcanons #tfp headcanons #starscream #optimus prime #arcee #dreadwing #ratchet #but that’s just a theory #a transformers theory #thanks for reading #cybertronians struggling with temperature and humidity

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carionto · 7 months

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Too tough for paradise

One peculiar side effect of Humans hailing from a Deathworld is that their biological well-being is partly dependent on some degree of microscopic hostility from the environment and what they consume.

It is normal among most species that, should their surroundings change to more hospitable conditions, their minds and bodies would feel relief and be under less stress. However, as with any changes, if they deviate too far too quickly from their normal, you risk damage from a sudden shock to the system.

___________________________

Abigail "Abby" Hostaz had been legally grounded by the Gyin-Trov due to her, ahem, "expansion of business" without the right permits. Not that she bothered to learn that nobody outside Human controlled space in the Galactic Coalition would allow the creation of a deadly asteroid race track AND let sentient beings directly pilot ships through it.

Hell, finding an Alien crazy enough to partake in an activity even most Humans consider insane is one in a trillion. She still did find seven non-Humans, so that math actually is within a reasonable margin. Everything else is not reasonable.

The local Gyin-Trov government learned of the true nature of her activities when a rogue asteroid suddenly appeared on their threat detection systems. The unnatural change of course quickly pointed to where she had set up her latest "thrill track", which the authorities rapidly dismantled, impounded her vessel, named "Victor", and put her under house arrest in the Human embassy awaiting the conclusion of the investigation and subsequent trial.

While station based embassies are effectively fully contained perfect habitats for the respective species, planet based ones tend to adopt a lot of the local elements and integrate what they can simply due to proximity and availability.

Humans, the resourceful buggers that they are, used everything the planet had to offer (that wasn't outright lethal to Humans, which in the case of the Gyin-Trov homeworld were only a few pollen producing crops found in the poles of the planet).

A combination of a almost perfect temperature range (near constant lows of 14C at night, highs of 21C mid-day), slightly higher moisture levels, and bio-engineered local flora that made the water into this somewhat thicker soup containing virtually every nutrient, vitamin and mineral a carbon-based lifeform could ever want, leaving little for the digestive system to tackle. Heck, just being within a field of such plants lets the body absorb everything for healthy survival.

In short, the Gyin-Trov homeworld, also named Gyin-Trov, is as close to Utopia as you can get.

Aaaaaaand Abby is not having a fun time there.

It's not like she was imprisoned - she was allowed to wander around the city and surrounding area under light supervision, she even had her cat, Hector, with her. But there just wasn't enough excitement to be found anywhere.

They had arcades and various physical activities, but she never felt her body grow tired after hours of competitive gaming and contests. No feeling of hunger or exhaustion ever disturbed her focus. The only thing that kept Abby from becoming, essentially, a zombie perpetually engaged in whatever activity was most fun at the moment was the inherent nature of the Human brain - it gets... wobbly after a while and needs sleep.

Not even a week had passed and people noticed Abby had become... different. No strong reactions to anything, no outbursts of some crazy ideas, just a general positive but not quite cheerful apathy. The Human ambassadors had experienced a much milder version of this, and it is theorized that they did not deem it as concerning due to the simple fact the ambassadors always had something to do, and more importantly - something that put their minds, if not bodies, to the test. Regular challenges, worries, and stress from work in general kept them on edge in some ways.

Abby was just waiting around, "put on vacation" as one of the ambassadors had put it. After a couple of more days of this peace, she seemed more like a automaton than anything else. Mindlessly going from place to place, trying out whatever activities were available, but clearly none offered anything close to the level of excitement and danger she had grown so used to. Not even the flawed thirty year old Human body she was in offered any surprises or discomforts.

Everything was just perfectly fine.

When the paperwork finally cleared and she was issued a fine and formally banned from engaging in any construction efforts in Gyin-Trov controlled space, she was reunited with Victor, and the personality changes she had undergone during her short time were seemingly instantly reversed.

Once she was in her ship and the self-diagnostics showed a few blinking lights, Abby immediately became energized and took action. Breathing in the recycled air with a hint of dry rust made that old bruise on her right side make itself known again. She pulled an all-nighter making repairs and "adjustments" to Victor and collapsed from exhaustion on the hard floor.

The next day, she was already near the border to neutral space when she noticed a dwarf planet with a rock formation in the shape of a trebuchet (very vaguely, if you squint really, really hard, and imagine half of the parts), and that gave her an idea.

All the while, Hector the cat did not exhibit any noticeable changes during his stay with Abby on Gyin-Trov. Maybe just a few more hours of sleep per day than normal.

#humans are space orcs #humans are space australians #humans are space oddities #humans are deathworlders #humanity fuck yeah #carionto #story

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ms-demeanor · 1 year

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Do you know how invert sugar works? I've heard a lot of conflicting things about it and it seems to be increasingly popular in packaged foods and restaurant food which is frustrating cause it seems to be an IBD trigger for me. I avoid artificial sweeteners cause they're triggers for me, but invert sugar is increasingly in things that say all natural or no artificial sweeteners, is it natural? what is it?

It is natural! Or, well, it uses natural ingredients. It's sucrose (a disaccharide, white sugar) split into glucose and fructose (monosaccharides) through a simple chemical process (boiling and optionally adding some acid).

Sucrose is the common kind of sugar that we use all the time; it is made up of two simpler sugars: fructose, which we often think of as "fruit sugar," and glucose, the most common carbohydrate in nature (it's the product of the Krebs cycle and it's the carbohydrate that your body turns into stored energy through glycolysis). Here's a diagram of a sucrose molecule:

you can see that it already looks like two molecules, kind of, with just one oxygen atom in the center to hold it together. If you split this molecule with a chemical reaction, it will create distinct glucose and fructose molecules:

(Glucose is on the left, fructose on the right).

If you want to make your own invert sugar you can do so on your own stovetop right now. All you have to do is mix sugar, water, and lemon juice.

Have you ever made simple syrup for sweet tea? Or made hard candy? Simple syrup is 1:1 white sugar and water. Hard candy is 4:2:1 white sugar, water, and sugar syrup. Invert sugar is a syrup in between those two which is about 2:1 sugar to water with a very small amount of acid added.

There are several reasons that bakers and confectioners will do this, including:

moisture - invert sugar is a humectant

texture - the addition of invert sugar can help control crystallization of sugar in candy-making

sweetness - invert sugar is slightly sweeter than white sugar

appearance - invert sugar helps things to brown faster

So invert sugar can be totally natural, it's easy to make at home, and it has lots of uses in cooking that are difficult to achieve without introducing more ingredients or ingredients that might change the appearance or structure of the final product. However, if you have issues with processing fructose, invert sugar is likely going to be a problem for you.

Honestly this kind of question (which I had a lot more of after getting diagnosed with food allergies and celiac disease!) is part of why I started getting more into cooking and more into learning about food production and nutrition. When you have to learn about hidden sources of corn in the American food system you have to learn a LOT about food and you come around firmly to the idea that "natural" on food product labels is at best useless and at worst misleading.

When you (you specifically, anon) are looking at a food label you're likely looking to see if it's going to cause problems for you. You're not really looking to see if it's natural, but "natural" has become a kind of shorthand for "no high fructose corn syrup" - if what you're avoiding is fructose, natural is not the word to look out for.

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jymwahuwu · 10 months

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hi! It's my first time sending ask so I am a bit nervous hehehe... What do you think about small breast darling? Will Jingyuan loves them? I want to heard your opinion about this, thank u! 💖

Hello 🤗💓 Thank you for sending. Don’t be nervous, here are Jing Yuan’s thoughts on small breast darling. I really think Jing Yuan will accept darlings of all body types as long as he falls in love😹

-CW: yandere, non-con, abuse of trust, nipple stimulation, overstimulation, mentions and some descriptions about lactation

✧- If this were to describe other people, it might seem disingenuous, and as if they don't have an opinion of their own. But- Jing Yuan's acceptance and worship are all based on love, and his openness is extraordinary. He adores darlings of any body type. This is also reflected in the preference for breasts.

✧- Jing Yuan noticed that your small breasts were small and exquisite, flat, and covered by a layer of fabric. He stopped himself from peeling off the obstructing piece of fabric.

✧- On a quiet afternoon, the raindrops wet your shirt. The clothes absorbed the moisture and clung tightly to your skin, revealing the lines and structure of your bra and breasts to the world. Jing Yuan is your considerate friend, providing warm tea and shelter from the rain. He had a lot of self-control so he didn't start jerking off.

✧- He ordered some bunny and kitty bras in your size from an online store. Don't dig into why he knows your exact bra size. By the way, Jing Yuan ordered matching underwear.

✧- Until one day, the preparation is completely completed. Seize the opportunity and flip your bra up immediately. You exclaimed, covering your nipples with your hands in panic. "Jing Yuan…!? What are you doing?" Firmly but gently fixing your hands on your head, prohibiting you from any resistance.

✧- Poor you, you always thought Jing Yuan was a trustworthy friend/general before this.

✧- Finally get a close look at your nipples. That is a wonderful experience that cannot be replaced by any number of photos automatically sent by the surveillance system. Your areolas tremble, stiffen and bulge under the gaze. Lovely flat hills. "Don't look - don't look at me like this!" You struggled awkwardly, your breathing quickened and your eyes flickering.

✧- Being caught up in a storm of desire without explanation. Your nipples were being caressed, sucked, rubbed and swirled by his thumb, occasionally given a light pinch. Those sensitive nerve endings continuously transmit pleasure to your mind, "Don't-don't…" You moaned, your waist bounced up, your legs rubbed against each other restlessly, and the petals were glowing with water.

✧- Refuse to have any part of your body other than your breasts touched…for now. Like a lion who has found a favorite toy, he teases his little rabbit and attacks. You threw aside your dignity for a moment, letting out some high-pitched moans and your vagina twitching, begging for his cock to come in. Not allowed. Nipple orgasms are the only thing you get for hours.

✧- "Stop touching… no more… can't…" You express your meaning intermittently, desperate and helpless, not knowing why Jing Yuan is so obsessed with your breasts. You feel like there's nothing left to get wet, you're drained - but at the same time the deep, wet marks on the quilt continue to grow.

✧- When that cock invades and expands your soft and warm walls in accordance with your "will", it does not mean that your breasts are ignored. A pair of custom-made bunny vibrators are glued to your nipples, the wet slaps humming along with the mechanical sound. You twitched helplessly.

✧- When sowing seeds, Jing Yuan is daydreaming about the day when your small breasts will secrete milk. By then your nipples will be swollen, and the smooth and sweet milk will be pumped out… The breast pump will be ready now.

✧- For those who don’t understand the charm of small breasts, Jing Yuan’s point of view is: Lost pearls are usually covered in dust. Their ability to see one of these colors is permanently lost throughout their lives.

#yandere hsr #yandere honkai star rail #yandere jing yuan #yandere hsr x reader #yandere jing yuan x reader #honkai x reader #honkai star rail x reader #honkai star rail x you

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fxckn-sxck-fr · 6 months

Note

Okay so maybe this it too dark, but I’m taking a chance because your inbox said “disgusting or dark themes” lmao. Imagine Dick goes through with the paralyzing of his darling, and it’s successful, but something goes wrong during one of his patrols, and he gets knocked out/kidnapped or other. Now Darling is there in the apartment all by herself, with no way to move or care for herself. I imagine she’d be incredibly sick if enough time passed, like near death if she’d been allowed to just sit there for a few days or more. What would dicks reaction be once he finally made it back to her and saw her in that state? Would it be enough for him to admit what he’s doing is wrong, or would he rationalize it away?

Love your work btw!! 💗 you keep us fed!

𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐀𝐋𝐘𝐒𝐈𝐒 𝐆𝐎𝐍𝐄 𝐒𝐎𝐔𝐓𝐇…

!!! GN reader, paralyzed reader, drugging, starvation, dehydration, brief blood mention (extremely non-graphic), emaciation, near death experience, brief mention of poor hygiene, feeding tube, infantilizing.

(I know this ask uses she/her pronouns, but I thought it was better to keep this consistent with the other immobilization asks, so I used the same gender neutral reader.)

(Also, how dare you think this is too dark for this blog. I eat this shit up, MM-MM-MMMMMMMMMMMMM.)

I’ve actually wondered about this before. If you’ve seen my previous asks, then you know that yandere Dick Grayson is still all in with the hero game. This already has an impact on his ability to care for you, as he sometimes comes home later than he’d want to, so it’s only natural that something like this would happen.

I can see him having to leave for a Nightwing emergency around noon-ish. You’re left sitting upright in his bed, head lulling to one side with your hands delicately poised in your lap like a porcelain doll. Now, whether you imagine him paralyzing just your legs or your arms as well, I think it’s safe to say he’d still keep you on a drug that immobilizes as a precaution, so the only movement you can manage is your eyes. With any luck, he wraps up whatever he needs to quickly and he brings you back to the living room where you can at least watch TV. You can only sit alone with your thoughts for so long before you become just as fucking insane as your captive has…

Noon turns into evening. Evening turns into night. Your stomach bubbles uncomfortably from the lack of dinner, making it difficult to fall asleep. Still no signs of Dick when you finally manage to drift off, and when you wake up the next morning, your mouth feels like sand paper. A loud gurgle emits from your stomach, your groggy mind filled with prayers that Dick got home last night and is currently preparing your breakfast in the kitchen, but those holes slowly diminish as the hours tick by, the pain in your stomach becoming almost unbearable.

From the corner of your eye, you can see your IV drip practically empty. This confirms the unfortunate reality that Dick has yet to return; otherwise, he’d take the needle out of your arm, or at the very least, replaced the bag. You’re still unable to move with the drug still in your blood stream, but as soon as it wears off, you plan to use the limited control you have over your body to at least try and inchworm your way out of here… or even just to the kitchen.

By the time you approach the 24-hour mark of Dick’s sudden departure, you feel like you’re agonizingly rotting away. Dehydration is making your mind fuzzy, but before you’re granted the release of passing out, starvation sharply pulls your consciousness back in. This a persistent cycle that taunts you through the day, midnight providing a small reprieve as your mind finally shuts down before the torture begins again in the morning.

The drug has long left your system, allowing you to try and generate some moisture in your mouth. You viscously gnaw at the inside of your cheeks, swallowing the chunks of skin you manage to tear off and almost crying in relief when you’re blessed with the flavor of blood. It’s not much, as you doubt you can survive off this alone, but it would tide you over long enough until Dick showed up, right?

… He’s on his way home… right?

It’s been 3 whole days. You’re fighting a losing battle between a mouth filled with sand and a stomach trying to digest itself. Through your bleary vision, you can vaguely make out the outline of bones in your arms, the twist of the radius and ulna prominently bulging through your skin. Drifting between two planes of consciousness, you tried to focus on anything other than your eminent demise, like memories before this never-ending hell or the smell of your own horrendous odor.

This is it. This is how you die. If you didn’t feel like your brain was slowly turning into mud, you might’ve been more afraid. But fortunately for you, death seemed to be kind enough to numb your thoughts entirely, allowing you to pass on with serenity rather than terror. This may have been the most merciful thing the universe has been towards you in the past several months. After weeks of being a captive in your own body, you’re finally being relieved of this nightmare…

… But, of course, you should’ve known you would never be granted the privilege of pity.

Dick is greeted with the horrifying sight of you on death’s doorstep by the time he stumbles into his room. After making sure you’re still alive — and almost sobbing from relief when he feels a feint pulse — he quickly prepares an IV bag of actual sustainable fluids to replace the empty one filled with just the drug. Hopefully, it would be enough to stabilize your electrolyte levels until he can put you on a feeding tube.

Now, remember that Dick isn’t an idiot; he does his research before doing any sort of medical procedure on you, and it helps that he already has some preexisting knowledge thanks to his field of work. But, again, since he isn’t an idiot, he knows that there’s only so much he can do as one guy, and a condition like this requires a team of professionals who can monitor your vitals and nutrient levels. There’s a chance he may actually take you to Gotham, either to Leslie’s Thompkin’s clinic or even the Batcave depending on what’s closer. I think it’s possible that Leslie and/or Bruce are already aware of your paralysis, albeit not the true story behind it. Dick wouldn’t have to explain himself much other than the reason he couldn’t take care of you for the past couple of days.

However, after you’re fully stabilized, it would only be a matter of time before someone talks to Dick about what’s good for you. Having your only caretaker be a vigilante who can’t always be there for you is a huge risk to your safety. Leslie, and/or Bruce would try to convince him to move you into the manor, where Alfred could keep an eye on you, but Dick would only be enraged at the suggestion. He almost just lost you, and now they want to take you away from him?! He’s the only one who can take care of you because he knows what’s good for you!!

(The cracks in Dick’s carefully crafted façade are showing… Leslie and/or Bruce can only hope this is just him being overwhelmed from all that’s happened.)

Anyways. One way or another, you find yourself waking up to the familiar sight of Dick’s ceiling. The stinging sensation of a feeding tube irritates your nostril, and you feel like you’ve just been hit by a steamroller. Dick immediately takes to your side the moment he realizes you’re awake, desperately clutching your hand (which you can’t feel, cuz… y’know… paralysis) as he sobs into the bony crook of your neck. He’s practically in hysterics; the way he gasps for air between agonizing wails makes you distantly worry he’s gonna pass out on your weak form.

So, what would be Dick’s takeaway from this? Does he finally recognize how fucked up it is to paralyze someone so he can take care of them easier? Well… no. Not at all. In fact, as soon as he’s allowed himself to grieve over the fact you almost fucking died, he realizes that this is actually perfect for him. You’re in a critical state and he needs to nurse you back to health? He absolutely adores coddling you to the extreme, so this is like living the dream. Really, the only thing he regrets is not putting you on a more sustainable drug before he left (though it’s not like he could foresee his initial Nightwing emergency going south like that. But it’s okay, cuz now he knows to take precautions!!).

Your recovery would take months, but things return to normal very quickly… much to your anguish.

#❥ CALL INCOMING: DO YOU LIKE SCARY MOVIES?#❥ TW: YANDERE #❥ YANDERE CHARACTER #❥ PLATONIC YANDERE #❥ YANDERE DICK GRAYSON #❥ YANDERE DICK GRAYSON X READER #❥ GN READER

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extremeepoxycoatings · 2 years

Text

The Importance of Moisture Control Systems at Home

Water is life. It is absolutely necessary for human health. But not for your home’s structural foundation. Water can damage the physical structure of your home in many ways. This is why the amount of water, in the form of moisture, that enters your home must be controlled. Otherwise, you run the risk of suffering from several health and financial consequences. Moisture control systems at home must be put in place. Why? Read further to find out.

Why is Moisture Control Important for Your Home?

It prevents cracks on wooden structures The wooden flooring and other fixtures at home will draw in more moisture during summer. This causes the wood to expand and warp. However, when winter comes, the opposite thing happens. This is because you will be using your heater a lot more often during the cold season. In turn, your air will dry out and then draw moisture out from the wooden structures that you have at home. This leads to wood flooring cracks, gaps and loose boards. You may also see cracks in your wooden furniture and other wooden items at home or contact an expert for analyzing floor and wall crack repair.

It prevents mold and mildew growth Having too much moisture inside your home can make it conducive to mold and mildew growth. This leads indoor air to become polluted and more likely to cause allergens and other indoor pollution-related illnesses. It can also cause damage to your wooden flooring. Unfortunately, if the moisture doesn’t dry out, it creates a breeding ground for bacterial growth. But with moisture control systems at home, the growth of these mold and mildew can be prevented.

It protects the foundation of your home When water gets absorbed into the ground where your foundation is built, it will lead the soil to swell thus putting pressure on your home’s foundation. The result would be hairline cracks, floods and the deterioration of your home’s foundation. Therefore, moisture has to be controlled before it starts to disrupt and compromise the integrity of your home’s physical structure.

What Should You Do to Control Moisture-Related Problems at Home?

If your home is having these issues then it is high time that you should consider calling the experts who will help you address your home’s moisture-related problems. Call on the professionals at Extreme Industrial Coatings who are known to be the best when it comes to applying effective barriers on walls and floors to avoid moisture from damaging your home.

Extreme Industrial Coatings employ epoxy products that have been proven effective in making your walls and floors highly impermeable. This will not only make the physical structure of your home less prone to damage. But a high-quality epoxy coating can also help you save thousands of dollars since you no longer have to think about repairing and replacing some parts of your home.

What are the Other Benefits of Hiring Moisture Control Experts?

When a moisture control system that is made by experts is in place, you can sleep with much peace of mind that no matter what the weather is, your home will be safe from any damage caused by too much moisture.

Not to mention the fact that when your home possesses an efficient moisture control system, it will also be free from any microbiological activity. This largely spares you from any allergens and diseases brought about by mold and mildew buildup.

A home is where your family’s heart is. Protect your family’s health. Protect your property’s integrity. Don’t let excessive moisture be a part of it. For any signs of cracks or too much moisture, call the experts right away. Call Extreme Epoxy Coatings.

#extremeepoxycoatings #epoxy #Moisture Control #Moisture Control System

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wolven91 · 6 months

Text

Drifting - Part 2

“Okay, make a fist.” Asked the serious geckin, blue in scale but the owner of long spines that started on his nose and continued up and over his head, down his back and finished at his tail. Zeet was his name.

Casper the friendly human, made a fist and felt the action drain him, as if he’d been at the gym for the last hour doing the same action. However, as his fingers met his palm and the tendons on the back of his hand tensed and corded against his skin, the giant metal fist not a few metres away, suspended in a secure field; made an identical fist.

“What’s the drift?” The blue geckin asked the second geckin who monitored the process not a few feet away, but a fair distance for the diminutive creatures. Her name, as far as Casper knew, was Wren.

“0.001%.” She retorted with an equally serious tone, she turned back and adjusted the two round panes of glass that sat across her snout. If not for the fact that Casper was sweating with the exertion of making a fist, he would have found her cute.

“Impossible. Check it again.” The first geckin demanded, turning to face her as if she had just made a poorly timed joke.

“Sir, I checked it three times, then used the older program to see if it got a different result.” Wren explained, quite confident despite Zeet’s incredulous tone.

“And?”

“It reports 0.002%.”

Both geckins turned back to the human, almost expectantly and gazed at him. No; studying him.

“W-what?” He asked, strain in his voice.

“You can relax Casper. You did very well.” Praised Zeet as Casper gasped, unclenching his fist, and slumping in the chair. He’d been fresh as a daisy when he’d sat down; why had a few wires been so draining?!

“That… took effort…” The young man explained, slipping his arm from the sleeve, and ensuring it was placed carefully onto the caddy.

“You were controlling more than just muscle and sinew young man.” Zeet explained, touching a finger to the control rod of his own personal walker and approached the human. At a foot tall, just like the rest of the geckins, he utilised mechanical legs attached to a platform that he stood upon to move around larger distances.

“Why am I exhausted?”

“Because, unbeknownst to your conscious mind, you not only controlled your own limb, but also controlled that robotic limb.”

“I’ve seen that done before…” Casper licked his lips to try and bring moisture to them. “They used electrodes or something… they had to concentrate, but it didn’t tire them out.”

Wren appeared at Casper’s side and pressed a bottle of orange liquid into his hands. It was almost as tall as her.

“Drink this, you’ll feel better.” She promised, her green scales were a deep emerald, her it was the frill around her neck that was only partially pulled in that made Casper smile. She was agitated. Perhaps worried about him?

The man gave her a curt nod, which caused her frill to pull in tight before he grasped the bottle and drank from it deeply. It wasn’t quite ‘orange’, but it was certainly something citrus and refreshed him almost immediately. After the first gulp he took a breath and downed the rest of the bottle in one, almost immediately feeling better and like his old self.

“What you just did was unconsciously control every single servo, circuit, and piston within that machine. Your mind: without your knowledge, was able to manage and steady all of that. The electrode method, that you mentioned, is a low intensity method of controlling simpler systems.”

“And we can’t use that method with these?”

“These are not for domestic use. I make it quite clear to you; these are bleeding edge machines. Capable of not only reacting as your body, not as a mere extension, but also your mind being able to incorporate the advantages these machines have.”

“Like what?”

“We can have a play with telescopic vision if you like? I’ve heard that is the easiest to manage. If you get addicted to the world those eyes, we can try out electromagnetic wavelengths, infrared, perhaps-“

“Sir.” Wren cut in, a frown on her face and her small, pointed teeth being bared.

“Mm, yes. Carry on.” Zeet surrendered, holding up his hands as if giving up.

“Before we go on, how are you feeling?” Wren asked, looking up at Casper and adjusting her specs.

“Better.” The man replied, giving her a warm grin.

“Better? You weren’t well before?” She poked, not letting him off the hook yet.

“I was tired, like I’d been doing bicep curls all morning. But now it’s like I’m fresh again?” Casper admitted honestly, if she was a doctor checking on him, then he wasn’t about to lie. The speed of his recovery was as if he had been fooled into being tired, rather than actually being tired.

“Marvelous.” Zeet whispered.

“*Sir.*” Wren immediately hissed; the respect of his seniority gone. Casper frowned then cut in, there was something he wasn’t being told.

“What’s going on? Is this about the.. the ‘drift’ thing? What was the drift you were on about?” He asked, demanding an answer.

“I knew he was bright, am I allowed to answer that *direct* question doctor?” Zeet asked the green geckin with a near taunting tone.

Wren merely sniffed, flattening her neck ruffle against herself and shrugged with a single hand, offering Casper up to Zeet, seemingly satisfied.

“’Drift’ is the natural loss of signal strength between your mind and the mechanical parts. The more parts, bits, and pieces, the greater the chance of drift and the more sluggish the movements and actions of the piloted mechs will be, all the way until failure.” Zeet explained with a toothy grin. It was Wren who spoke next, softly explaining it to Casper without infantizing him.

“Geckin have a fantastic drift score. We can manage mechs of incredible size and complexity without much loss of control. Realistically, the next closest would be chintians, but they refuse to be pilots for our mechs.” She said, turning her hand in a gesture as she spoke, still calmly and softly.

“Why?” Casper asked.

“You know the plug in your arm?” Zeet began, pointing at the limb that was limp in Casper’s lap.

Casper looked down and turned his arm over. There was a single dark red dot of scabbed blood. Around it was a bright red circle with the metal casing of the plug had been pressed into his flesh.

“Yeah?”

“It can lead to fur-loss.” Concluded Zeet, rather offhandedly.

“Along with other things.” Cut in Wren, with the speed of someone adding ‘terms and conditions’ at the end of an advert.

“They consider that unacceptable. We consider it the cost of having faster reaction speeds to our machines. They rely on taking hits and surviving them. We believe in the philosophy of never getting hit.” The tiny lizard explained with a mouthful of sharp teeth, eager at the thought.

“Do geckins have any fur to lose? Do you lose scales?” Casper asked, if there were side effects for some species, were there any for geckins?

“No.” Zeet answered immediately.

“Well…” Wren began, but was immediately cut off.

“No, we do not lose scales with use.” Zeet said again, staring at the doctor.

“They can dull though.” She explained, closing her eyes then turning her head to look at Casper before opening them again. She held his gaze firmly.

“Not through usage doctor!” Zeet snapped, certainly exasperated.

“A pilot who is connected for long periods or who is in intense environments requiring constant movement will find side effects, such as scale fading.” Wren continued, putting across the idea that it was not without a cost.

“He doesn’t need to hear this, what is the chance he’s going to be in that environment? Zero!” Zeet shouted, throwing his hands up before gesturing to Casper, then then inert arm.

“Look, it’s fine. As you say; unlikely.” Casper agreed, trying to calm the tension in the room. “So what about me? What about human drift”

“Ah, good male. A fine mind between those big ears.” Zeet grinned again, turning to Casper and clasping his hands. “Your drift, at worst calculation was about 0.002%. That is nothing. That is about as good as a prostetic replacing your actual arm. Unheard of for managing an arm that complicated.”

“What’s a geckin’s drift percentage?”

“5.” Wren said pointedly. “On average. Ace pilots are around the single percent or less range, but that is through biological luck, augmentation and prolonged life-long training. Your natural ability appears to be quite potent.” The tiny green lizard admited.

“Yours, baring in mind your evolution wouldn’t have any sort of natual selection for this, is considered a one in a life time pilot. If humans are all this well adjusted, each and every one of them will be very much welcome in geckin territories…”

Casper turned to the arm and gazed at it. A mech pilot? That would be fantastic! He didn’t like the idea of ‘stressful environments’ though.

“You wouldn’t want me in like, a fight or anything, right?” Casper asked, staring at Zeet carefully.

“May my tail fall off! No! Could you imagine what the GC would say if we endangered a human? Immediately after your new classification? Absolutely not. Completely out of the question.” He promised, waving his hand as if to dismiss a fly that was bothering him.

“Normally I would warn you about listening to our Zeet here, but he’s right. The geckin people are still under threat by ssypno aggression. Their seat at the table of three means all they have to do is convince one of the other two to agree that they be allowed to create a vassal of our people and we can expect no support from the GC to stop them. Endangering you would all but guarantee the support of one or both of the other two.”

A small hand touched his arm as she leant forward to rest her’s against him, the good doctor offering him a smile.

“The danger to you is over, you can rest easy knowing the rest of your life will be free of hardships.” She lied.

[r/WolvensStories]

[Ko-Fi]

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paingoes · 3 months

Text

Destroyer - Mercy

(Masterlist)

(Content: panic attack, body horror, threat of dismemberment, crying, begging)

======================

Delta wished he hadn’t done it. He had never wished for anything in his entire life. He had saved it all for now. He wished, more than anything, that he hadn’t done it.

The holding cell was strangely warm, giving the impression of being on the inside of some massive creature. He supposed he was close to the engine. There was no light in the room, no sound besides his own choked breathing noises. He didn’t understand what was happening to him physically and that yet it was all the stimulus had to think about. Despite the room’s warmth, he was shivering. Sweat was beading at his bare arms, an unwelcome moisture. He was losing fluid through his eyes too, though he didn’t think of this as crying, oddly enough. He ached where they had grabbed him, but he knew it was nothing compared to what would come next. It was almost funny how little all of this would matter soon. His life was over, he knew it. It’d been a good run, at least. Maybe. Well, not really. It didn’t matter.

The door slipped open, letting a thin line of light in. Delta didn’t move. He didn’t have to. They’d drag him, sure now that his movement must be restricted, that he couldn’t be let out of sight. And they did drag him, upwards, out the door. It scared him that he did not recognize the guards, but his fear was so overflowing by then that it made little difference. He barely looked up as they moved him down the hall of the Thorn. Maybe he should have. Maybe he’d never see it again. He realized, to his own shock, that he would probably miss it.

Another set of doors slid open. It was small, but it was unmistakably a throne room. The General Nezu and his counsel Chanyu Brooks were standing in attendance. Sitting on the throne, almost entirely obscured by shadows, was His Highness, Paris of Thales.

The guards threw him unceremoniously to the ground, scraping up his hands and knees. He straightened himself into a kneel immediately. General Nezu was standing over him, in his blind spot. It would not have been right, under ordinary circumstances, for an old man who did not have any claims to Delta to be presenting him back to his owner. But these were not ordinary circumstances. Nezu had caught him, fair and square. He had nobody to blame but himself.

He kept thinking, if he’d just waited until the ship was airborne, he might’ve had a chance. They couldn’t reasonably accuse him while they were hurtling through the depths of space. There’d be nowhere for him to go. But instead he had done it while they were docked on a sanctuary planet. It didn’t matter what he was trying to do. Paris would never, ever believe him. And even if he did, now he had to save face. It didn’t matter. It didn’t matter. In the eyes of the law, Delta had attempted escape.

“Your Highness,” General Nezu spoke, “This is quite a high caliber security risk. I’m astonished you’ve given Δ-107 such free reign to begin with. Your father was very specific in his demands that the weapon be contained within the controlled environment that the Institute had constructed for it. This is precisely the reason why.”

Delta didn’t look up, knowing preternaturally that if he did, the General would wrench his neck. His man, the Chanyu, went on in a mechanical fashion.

“I discovered it attempting to access the engineering console in the middle of the night. That is the system that controls all functions of the Thorn, including her passenger doors. It is my belief that Δ-107 was attempting to exit the ship without authorization and to take refuge on the planet below. Needless to say, even the attempt to take control of the ship constitutes an existential threat to not only the Empire but the galaxy at large.”

Delta winced. How had he been so careless? He’d been building up to this for weeks, but he had gotten too absorbed to even hear the footsteps down the hall. Maybe it was their irregularity that had escaped him. It was not the sound of anyone he’d been trained to look out for. If Paris had caught him, he might’ve been able to beg for mercy. If he begged well enough and the two of them were alone, he might’ve even received it. But Delta had been caught by Nezu’s men, the ones who were always chomping at the bit to take over. He’d made Paris look bad in front of his competition, which was about the worst thing you could do to him. Delta was pretty sure he’d never see the light of any sun ever again.

“Not to mention the danger to your legitimacy. I’d remind you, nowhere in your father’s will did it stipulate that Δ-107 should enter your possession. It would not be a hard right to challenge, if one was so inclined. For that reason, I’d recommend you address this situation swiftly and effectively. I have some suggestions of my own,” Nezu picked up where his man had left off, as if they had rehearsed.

Paris was silent, which Nezu took as a cue to continue.

“Are you familiar with The Damian Foundation?”

No. No. No. Delta felt bile rising up in his throat, his body shaking so much he was sure they all could see it. The voices rose up in an awful cacophony from the dredges of his memory. He saw their mutilated forms as if they were there with him, the limbs strung up, the eyes gouged out, the bones pushed through the skin to better attach to the metal grating.

“The standard procedure there is to just remove the offending limb. Here it would be the legs, if you want it to retain some degree of independence, the care needs would be lessened. But if you have the labor to spare — or if you would accept mine — quadruple amputation is also an option. They’ve learned to do it very safely. When the threat level is this high, I think it’d be appropriate to respond in kind.”

This isn’t happening. This is not fucking happening. No. No. No.

“All they really need is the brain, you know. The jarring tech is still experimental, but so far it’s very promising. Of course, its applications are not as flexible, but all the power is preserved and is able to be drawn from. We believe this is in your best interest, Your Highness. From your current position, there is nothing that is better left to chance.”

It was happening, though. In some sectors of the Empire, it was becoming the go-to solution for unruly psychics. It was a safe, intuitive way to get the energy out of someone who refused to give it up willingly. The other generals and their factions would surely agree this was a great compromise. Delta was going to pass out, which only made him panic worse, he’d be out and then when he’d wake up it would already be over. He wasn’t even sure if he was alive anymore, half convinced he had died in his sleep and was now stuck in a kind of hellish afterlife. He would be stuck forever, he was sure. God, he was so young, he would live forever like that, trapped in his own body, a body that had been-

“From my current position?” Paris asked.

The General stiffened.

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you were trying to undermine my authority,” Paris said, a bit testy.

“Not at all, Your Highness. It’s si-“

“Did I give you permission to speak?”

Like that, silence filled the room. Paris took a deep breath.

“Thank you for the warning. It’s a very serious issue you’ve brought to my attention and so I will go over it with my own people. At no point did I request your advisement in the matter. I don’t appreciate you offering it unsolicited — and I don’t ever want to hear you suggest it again. Delta is mine. I’ll discipline him as I see fit.”

Silence. The General didn’t move an inch.

“If that’s all then, the two of you are dismissed. And in light of this security crisis, I think it’s best if you disembark as soon as possible. I’ll flag your ship right now.”

Like it pained him, General Nezu bowed out. The two of them left without saying goodbye, disappearing through the large doors of the throne room. The doors slammed shut violently, and then there was no sound at all.

Delta looked up. Paris’s face was hidden in the shade. He could not see his expression. Delta was still shaking badly, his skin a pallid color. He wouldn’t have been able to stand up if he was asked. He didn’t know if he could move at all, the animal terror rolling off him, the relief. The gratitude. It scared him. He’d never felt this way in all his life.

Paris pulled his own leg up onto the throne, rocking it gently.

“Well?” The prince asked.

“Thank you,” Delta said, “Thank you. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. Thank you.”

He was crying. He hadn’t meant to. He was lower than he had been a second ago, closer to the ground, half bowing and half keeling from the exertion.

“Thank you,” Delta said and meant it. It shocked him how much he meant it. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. Please. I’m sorry.”

Paris didn’t say anything, letting him grovel or cry for as long as he needed to. It took a while. Paris closed his eyes. He was so tired. He held up a hand and the sobs quieted.

“Go to your room, Delta. I don’t even want to look at you right now,” Paris’s voice was deceptively calm, only the words revealing the anger beneath them.

Delta felt a rush of shame. Paris was still angry at him, of course. He always was. Why did it hurt so badly now?

~~~

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