#Now that I got this out of my system I should be ok

[imitationgame77]

Mensah's family (from books 1, 4, 5, 6)

It takes slow deciphering to work out Mensah's family.

Ratthi came over to see if I was all right, and I asked him to tell me about Preservation and how Mensah lived there. He said when she wasn’t doing admin work, she lived on a farm outside the capital city, with two marital partners, plus her sister and brother and their three marital partners, and a bunch of relatives and kids who Ratthi had lost count of.

[All Systems Red]

That was the first mention of her family. It went right over my head - except, wow, she's married, wow, two marrital partners, and BIG family!! So. There Mensah, brother, sister, mensah's 2 marital partners, siblings' 3 marital partners - EIGHT adults! (+ relatives)

Then I picked up Mensah arriving in the outer foyer with two humans and a small juvenile human, who looked like a miniature version of Mensah. I stood up and waited.

Faint steps on audio told me the small human had followed me out. She stepped up to the railing, frowning curiously at me. She said, “Hello.” “Hello,” I said. “I’m your mother’s pet security consultant.”

[Exit Strategy]

OK, so Mensah and spouses have at least one little daughter.

(Thiago is a marital partner of Dr. Mensah’s brother, which is why I gave a crap about his opinion.)

[Network Effect]

Thiago is one of the three marital partners of Mensah's siblings, and married to the brother. So, Mensah's sister could still have one or two marital partners.

In the pavilion, I located Mensah near the edge of the crowd talking to Thiago and Farai, who was one of her marital partners.

[Network Effect]

Now we know one of Mensah's marital partners is called Farai, and the subsequent paragraph refers to her as "she".

(That didn’t apply to the seven kids. I was illicitly tradingdownloads via the feed with three of them.)

[Network Effect]

Now we know there are seven kids in Mensah's family. It is possible that all of them are Mensah's, but it seems more likely that some of them belong to Mensah's siblings.

It was just me-the-SecUnit they didn’t like. (That didn’t apply to the seven kids. I was illicitly trading downloads via the feed with three of them.)

[Network Effect]

At least three of the seven kids are old enough to be downloading media.

The fifth incursion was the one that got me in trouble with Amena, Mensah’s oldest offspring.

(...)

You might think the obvious thing to do was to notify Mensah or Farai or Tano, the third marital partner. I didn’t.

[Network Effect]

Amena is Mensah's oldest, and a teenage girl. She did not seem to know much about MB, so the ones swapping media did not include her. Oh, and Mensah's other marital partner is called Tano.

I said, “You need to sleep.” She (Amena) yawned. “Okay, third mom.”

[Network Effect]

Mensah is the second mon. Farai is a she, so probably she is a mom, too. If Amena is calling MB a third mom, Tano is not a mom. Could be dad, could be something else.

And Mensah had called her marital partners Farai and Tano on the planet, and said she thought the future of humanity was pretty dismal, and they should take all the kids, siblings, their kids, and assorted relatives and move to a shack in the terraforming sector on the unsettled continent and start working in soil reclamation, whatever that was.

[Fugitive Telemetry]

This takes place prior to Network Effect, chronologically speaking. Anyway, there could be more of them... assorted reratives??

CONCLUSION: Working out Mensah's family is like complicated detective work. Harder than trying to remember all the characters in Agatha Christie's mysteries with large cast!

[gensnix]

I'm gonna combust if I don't get this out

Totk rant underneath

I know I did review and I put a small rant in it but I got more shit to say and yes I might be repeating things because I have the need to point shit out

The writing is bad a lot of characters I loved in botw have turned into stale biscuits

I can't take the fact that the game goes against its own lore multiple times

"to become a dragon is to lose oneself" K. why tf was Ganondorf still fighting us in dragon form.

Also Zelda knowing when to join the fight or the fact that she cries her memories into the ground and the fact that she's perfectly fine at the end. Zero repercussion

Link your arm is fucked beyond repair... jk lol it's fine

Everyone talks about the shrines and sheika towers but no one talks about the giant sheika pillars that surrounded Hyrule castle I miss them :(

Link would you please react to something besides food and horse points I know you can, especially in a place where you were completely alone

Nope I'm not accepting that the ancient hero is part Zonai cause 2 things. there were only two zonai left that I don't see Mineru having kids and wouldn't that mean that hero and princess would be related or why isn't it just the princess. That is NOT A ZONAI WTF IS THAT IT IT LOOKS NOTHING LIKE THE TAPESTRY mf got blue skin and clearly wearing boots in the pic and I know that Hyrule can be racist but if the zonai were sooo important why would they make him look like a hylian(gerudo?) it really just feels like they just put Zonai stuff everywhere without actually thinking

I like the idea that the three dragons were once Zonai and went through with swallowing secret stones but shouldn't they have three eyes? Idk that's just a nitpick In fact, who even made the secret stones we get no explanation why do they do that.

another nitpick I have is that they should not be speaking the same langue in the past. Zelda shouldn't be able to understand a word of what they're saying

If Zelda gets her light magic from Rauru and time from Sonia why in botw does the triforce appear when she seals Calamity Ganon Sonia is the one with a triforce tattoo and yet they don't even talk about the triforce once in this game and correct me if I'm wrong but don't Sonia and Rauru not know what the master sword is

This game is trying way to hard to convince me that the Zonai were good people. An entire race of good people doesn't die out like that. They also don't have robots that kill everything on site. or doors that drain the life out of people. Or not correct anyone when they are called gods. Or have mining facilities everywhere underground. Or have a gerudo cemetery near all their underground shit

I want this game to stop trying to be Ocarina of Time it's not working.

Why are the labyrinths different especially the one that had all the guardians down there. All of them are gone. Who even went there to get them was it Link. The Zonai researcher makes it seem their the first one to ever go there

I usually see this on twitter saying that the missing sheika tech was stated to be decommissioned in Purah's diaries. Except what the FUCK are you talking about like is it different in other languages or are twitter people just saw one person say it and decide to spread it around. Please ya gotta tell me I know how bad American Nintendo translates their games

also about the shrine of resurrection I see a lot of people say that the yiga took it down. but uh... the whole reason the yiga started is cause one of the old kings banded their tech shouldn't they y'know use some of it and at least fuse it in some designs I know they can

As much as I love them I don't think the yiga really fit in this since everything sheika related got pushed off a cliff

I love the depths but there really isn't much there Like I feel like there should be some sheika stuff down there all destroyed and stuff. cause a lot of chasms are where old sheika shrines were wouldn't it be cool to go down there and see an old sheika shrine in ruins

demon king??? Secret stone????

Idk why I seem to be the only one who wants to know where the actual thunder helm is. I looked high and low for it. I even wore the replica to see if I'd get a reaction and I did but it's only for the speech bubbles above the gerudo's heads Most of them being "that helm..." one being "I want a helm!" Even RIJU with the fucking "That helm..." GIRL WHERE IS THE ACTUAL ONE. This game makes me confused about which side quests are apparently actually canon. Did Link lose it?? Why would they react like that?

Yunobo I love you please please please use your shield why are you not using it

Yunobo why won't you question why Zelda gave you a mask that possessed you please my baby boy don't let people treat you like a doormat be mad you are allowed to be mad that you got possessed

I will never not be mad they sidelined Teba. I didn't spend all those years convincing my friends that Teba was a crazy bastard cause they don't talk to npc's like I do and then proven right in Age of Calamity for him to not even get a redesign. Hell, he's fucking bored as an elder and he doesn't say the injury he got while fighting Medoh was lethal he shouldn't be standing if it was. In botw his wife, best friend, and elder all talk about how Teba acts without thinking and has been like that since a child. Who are you what have you done to my crazy speaks his mind bastard. It's hard being one of so few Teba simps but hey at least I'm not a Sidon simp who had to go through with his marriage.

Saki didn't even want Tulin to be a warrior why is she so ok with him being a Sage

Once again cause this pisses me off the most. In her diary Zelda says that Link follows her everywhere in there attempt to rebuild Hyrule. Everyone and their mothers knows Zelda she's the princess. But they don't recognize Link..? Does she not talk about him to them. Strange since she was so happy to share about him with her ancestors. They should know him he carries the fucking master sword and is always with Zelda. Hell I believe that they live in the same house but I guess Link's not important to them. Even though he's the reason that Zelda was able to seal away the calamity away.

Why does all of Hyrule just accept she's the princess? You guys haven't served under a monarchy in 100 years. You guys are so skeptical of Link but not her... and you're not gonna question anything she does. Even if it seems evil cause yeah that was a plot point in game that was completely dropped. the evil zelda thing could have been great. Get people questioning shit but you know whatever I guess

I don't know how true it is but I saw someone on twitter say that botw and totk take place in different universes (not from the timeline who cares about that but from each other) as stated on an official Nintendo site, even showed a picture, but it was in Japanese so I wanted to try and find this website cause it's easy to be fooled but couldn't cause once again it's Japanese I can't understand Japanese and I don't remember where that tweet was. And at this point I am going to believe that proof or not cause what is this story I know Nintendo is gameplay over story but I have never been upset at a plot like this before.

[deliciousnecks]

Kayvan Novak II The Emmy awards 2024

[reds-skull]

Me: damn I feel like painting Soap rn

Me an hour later: but what if I completely fuck him up tho

(inspired by this painting by Zack Zdrale)

[yourbuerokrat2]

One thing about the "Q wants to fuck Picard so bad it makes him look stupid" is that Q would behave in a way that would make him look even stupider if Picard and he ever had sex. Picard thinks that he is agreeing to a one-night-stand or something easy that might in the end calm down Qs weird obsession with him only for Q to become a 1000 times worse.

[heirofnepeta]

Heyyyyyyyyyy do ANY of y'all who follow me play Warframe and by chance have an Octavia Prime Chassis blueprint you're willing to sell to me and if so what's the uh. price?

[orcelito]

Flossing my teeth and getting in the gums like Yes I'm going to get a good grade in dental care. Which is normal to want and possible to achieve.

[medicinemane]

Always hungry, always broke, and always having my mom toss a new catastrophe my way... but never actually being given control of the money despite the fact that I've been able to hold on to my stimulus checks all these years only spending them on emergencies, but she blows her disability and wracks up credit card debt

But see... she'd feel like a child if she had to ask for money for things... it's much better when she has full control so she can do things like spend $300 on microtransactions in a single month

Then my grandma gets mad at me for having to help with money cause I don't have a job, and if I just had a job it would be fine (and no doubt I'm pretty shit for not working despite not having anything wrong with me)

When I get stuff cleaned up my mom just uses it as a new spot to dump trash so... there's no point

I provide nothing to the world, I have no talents or skills, everything I do is wrong, and I'm just kind of a drain on the world despite having nothing stopping me from actually doing shit except my poor character

...kinda hemming and hawing on ordering this cause even $18 is a hell of a lot of money to spend on killing myself unless I'm actually gonna do it. If I get it and then keep putting it off... well then that money would have been real better spent elsewhere

...but on the other hand this can't keep continuing... maybe I can take the money I was trying to save up to buy a new mic so I can actually talk to people and spend it on this instead

[smutstationchoochoo]

Desperate

COD Men x FemReader

Hear me out: a sex pollen fic where reader isn’t affected but he is and he is gone.

Word count: ~3.6k

A/N: It’s just the poorly written sex pollen drabble of my dreams, it’s fuck or die lads. Insert your favorite COD man here. Please forgive me for any spelling/grammar mistakes and my complete lack of knowledge regarding military things, all I know is that these men are hot and I love them.

Warnings: sex pollen, unprotected PIV (wrap it up), overstimulation, dubious consent (consent is sexy folks)

Banner credit: @cafekitsune

You all had been briefed at 0200. The flight to Berlin left at 0300 where the team would be infiltrating a terrorist hideout, a suspected manufacturing site for a new chemical agent. You were told that as long as you didn’t ingest it, you would be fine.

The fact that it had been made airborne was not in the fucking briefing.

The team had been split into pairs, you and he took the North side of the suspected warehouse. The size of it should have tipped you all off. Everything was running smoothly until 3 combatants had come from the door at the end of the corridor. He called for cover and ran ahead. You dropped two before he even got a stride in. The other he disarmed in seconds and then with a deafening crack, both men slammed through a door and into the resulting room. A brief struggle then silence. You heard him start to call the ok, his voice in the comm sounding clearer than earlier, then a noise, a pop, and the sound of air. You froze, watching a gas spill from the open door and dissipate immediately. Just when you started moving again, a growling, “Don’t,” tore through the comm. Then, the sound of ripping Velcro and something hard (his helmet you realized with a sickening drop) hitting the concrete floor echoed out to you. Soft murmurs that grew into angry outbursts of fuck fuck fuck transformed into one that became a groan of what sounded like complete and utter pain. You didn’t even have to think, the severity of the situation settled in. “It’s a gas,” you barked into the comms, “Northside hit, need medevac in 30, going dark.” You waited for confirmation, seconds after getting it and receiving news that the warehouse was almost cleared, you went to find him.

You knew what it did, you all did. Jokes had been made, smirks shared, but you all knew how bad it was. You weren’t even close to prepared. He was sitting against the far wall or rather pressed into it using it to keep his now shaking frame upright, gear strewn around the room, combatant on your immediate left with a mask (his mask, the masks you all were wearing just in fucking case) gripped in a dead hand, an empty canister mockingly sitting in the middle of the room. 

You gripped the combatant by his legs and dragged him to the hall, before slamming the door shut upon reentry and grabbing a near chair to jam the door. You immediately began stripping yourself of your outer tactical gear until you both matched in only your boots, pants, and base shirts and then you turned your attention to him. Now kneeling by his side you took him in, looking for any other injuries noting nothing serious. That almost made you laugh with relief until you saw the front of his pants and him frantically palming the growing outline. You swallowed and quickly looked at his face shocked back to the reality of the current situation. The usually stoic, always larger than life, incredibly strong man in front of you was reduced to tears dripping from his now blown and hazy eyes, falling down flushed cheeks and landing on the front of his shirt that clung to his hyperventilating chest. You knew he had been shot, stabbed often, and left for dead a time or two, but this…

Shiny and new neurotoxin, you remembered the brief, attacks the nervous system, causing the mark to feel intense arousal and as if they have been lit on fire, specially formulated not only to cause pain but a complete and utter breakdown of will as victims often experience hallucinations and loss of self. If left in the system, it raises the core temperature until convulsions set in, and then heart attack occurs. Do not touch it.

No one had to ask how it was worked out of the system. Then again, they all believed they were too smart to touch the shit. Couldn’t do much about breathing it in when your mask was ripped from your face though.

  Your hand pressed to his slick forehead now radiating heat, and feeling as if it could burn you like an open flame. At the touch of your blessedly cool hand, he hissed a low fuck through his gritted teeth, keening into your touch. You swallowed, hand tilting his cheek to look up at you when you asked, “Can I help?”  His hair was sticking up at all angles from the helmet being hastily pulled from his head, and he looked up at you and gave one weak nod, “Please.”

Upon looking at the desperation pooling in those dark eyes (those eyes you often were caught staring at) any small reservations evaporated from your body under his burning gaze. You swiftly reached out, mercifully helping him escape from the now too-tight pants, the bite of his zipper. The moment your skin brushed against the head of him he was bucking up against it. You had to reach the other hand out to steady yourself against his shoulder, another touch that jutted his hips and had him twitching into your grip.

“Is- is this helping?” you croaked out, struggling to swallow, struggling to contain the wave of arousal that was threatening to course through you. He nodded, chin slack against his chest as he watched your hand work against him, moving up and down against the veins seemingly trying to break through his skin. No thoughts went through his mind other than the knowledge that you were jerking him off and that it felt so good that he could cry in relief. But then something shuddered within him, something loud and fast like a wildfire, burning just as much, and hot thick ropes of cum spilled over your hand. He couldn’t even cry out, it happened so fast. His breath was coming out in loud pants, when a new thought, the thought that he had just come in maybe thirty seconds flashed through his mind but it was quickly replaced with the horrible realization that the feeling of being on fire wasn’t going away. It was getting worse, out of control, containment measures failed. At this, he let out a sob as his hips moved of their own volition into your still soothing grip. It wasn’t enough, he knew, you knew, it wasn’t enough.

 You stood, and he whimpered at the loss of your touch but all sound stopped in his throat when he watched you decisively unzip your pants and pull them down to your ankles underwear included, kicking off a boot, and one pant leg. When you straddled his lap he desperately pulled you down onto him, your exposed core grinding down where he wanted you, where he fucking needed you, that’s when he began to talk. Begging you to help him, saying that he’s sorry over and over, that he needs your help, incoherent babbling from a breaking mind, please it hurts so bad, I-I don’t, I can’t- fuck, I need you... All cool, calm, collectedness burnt to fucking ash. Just a man reduced to pure longing and want. A longing and want that might be what was threatening to kill him, not the toxin, just the build up over the days, weeks, months he had been around you threatening to crush him. He almost wants to die, this was never how it was supposed to be. He wanted it to be good for you, you deserve that, you deserve better, he could have given you better-

But now what was he? A heaving chest under a sweat soaked shirt beneath eyes that watch you like some feral animal. Hands wanting to claw at the clothing now so heavy, hot, and itchy against his burning skin, but instead were gripping onto your hips like it’s going to save him from burning to a crisp. The broken moans tearing their way from his throat when you line up his painfully hard cock to your entrance makes you throb, and then his choking cry as you slide down on him punches the air from your chest.

“Does this feel ok?” you panted out after a moment, struggling, trying not to drown in the pleasure of him stretching you, filling you. He couldn’t form the words, couldn’t even nod. His forehead falling to your shoulder in utter relief, mouth dropped open as he repeats your name over and over like an apology, a thanks, a goddamned prayer. How all he can do is sit there on the floor of some warehouse, back against a wall, the only thing resembling his usual strength is that ironclad hold he has on your hips as he helps you drag yourself up, then, accompanied by the tortuously obscene sounds of your wetness, back down. Brokenly pleading with you not to stop, don’t stop, fuck p-please don’t stop. You feel like molten heaven against his cock, your moans like angels (or devils, he’s too far gone to care at this point) singing through the blood rushing in his ears. One of your hands again steadies yourself on his shoulder, the other steadying him, an anchor point, with your achingly gentle hold on the nape of his damp neck (so gentle that it breaks his fucking heart, he wanted to give you more, you deserved more) as you ride him. Your hips rock once more, twice more, before his body seizes up with electricity that ricochets up his spinal cord and reverberates through his skull. His fingers dig into the soft skin of your hips, teeth grinding and eyes slamming shut, as he releases inside of you with a shattered cry. The sound of you gasping, now clutching, raking your fingers into him, has his hips continuing their rutting up into you, pushing his cum as deep as he can within your walls.

He stills for 10 seconds at most, panting breaths thunderous between you two, before pulling you into his chest, his hips slamming up into you, hard and hot as if he didn’t just fuck you until he could see every neuron firing behind his eyes. His hot open mouth finds your shocked one in a perfectly surprised “o,” more apologies pushing from his lungs and into yours between loud wet kisses as he listens (is blessed with thank you God) to you beginning to come apart. You couldn’t help it, as you ground down into his thrusts, even though you knew the threatening climax was going to be terrifying. Your breathing was ragged now as well, the air becoming harder and harder to drag into your lungs in between you cursing and moaning, and then- fucking hell- you’re at the precipice. Before you can even utter a syllable you are being flung over the edge. The pleasure rips through you, waves breaking against the rocky shore, with such intensity that it hurts, causing you to dig your nails into his skin, and bright spots to dance behind your closed eyes while the distant feeling of wetness registers from between you two. He explodes again with a gasp, feels you clench around him like a vice, his name, his real name, forcing its way from inside you and into his mouth with every pulse and it tastes so so good that he can’t stop, he never wants to stop, just filling you up until it drips from you, filling you with him because you’re his, his. Even when you both whimper and shudder with overstimulation, his arms shaking in their grip around you, he can only press his forehead to yours, rolling it desperately, as he begs for your forgiveness. I can’t stop, it won’t stop, I’ll make it good, please next time I’ll make it good.

“It is good,” you whisper to him with hitched breath from each thrust, trying to reassure him, “It’s ok, it’s ok.” You don’t know if he can hear you, his eyes are wild and don’t seem to even register that you are actually on top of him, that he’s inside of you, that he has made you yell out his name over and over and over. You don’t think he even knows what he is saying. Next time.

 His own voice comes to him from somewhere far away, through the flames licking at his mind, please- fuckin’ hell please, just a little more- I just need one more, I need you, please don’t stop, I don’t want to stop nearly unrecognizable as he comes inside you again and again and again.

It isn’t until the medevac came and he was sedated that what just happened began to sink in. For a week, a fucking week, he’s in critical condition. No one talks about it, at least not in the way you all did before this. You saved him, you’re told. You don’t want to think about it, if you think about it then you think about how good it felt, how fucked it is that it felt good, and how everything is gone. If you think about all he said, you’d overthink, give meaning where there was none. He probably won’t be able to look at you anymore. You went to see him that first day. You sat next to him for mere minutes before bolting, the fear of him waking up and looking at you with disgust, telling you to get out in that icy voice you knew so well, sent you running straight to the mats to train until you wanted to scream. That’s all you did now, and that was where you decided you would stay until you died. That is until someone came and found you, told you he was awake, and that he had asked for you. The whole walk to the infirmary had adrenaline coursing through you, you wanted to run, to fight, to freeze right there in the hall and never move another fucking muscle. The thought of losing him, him being there but not wanting to be near you anymore made you feel sick. It had been so long, so long of repressing those feelings that flared in your chest when he smiled at you during sparring, the feeling of him seated next to you on a flight, his eyes catching yours just so you could stay with him. Well, you thought with dripping ire, that had literally and figuratively been fucked now hadn’t it?  

You knocked, heard his gruff voice, and entered. You stopped dead in your tracks three steps into the room after mistakenly looking up and finding him staring at you from where he sat on the edge of the bed, already dressed, looking like he was about to head out on another call. You were desperately trying not to shake but your hands gave you away. You could take on a man twice your size without batting an eye but this?- you were terrified.

The moment you walked into the room, all his time that morning when he first woke thinking about what he would say to you, how he could face you, was knocked from his mind. You had saved his life. He never wanted that. He wanted to give it to you, it was yours after all. He didn’t know when it had become yours, every single part of him, but if he had to wager a guess it was the moment he found you in his life. And it might all be ruined.

The memories had started coming to him immediately after waking up, almost more clear and real now than in the moment.  It jolted him awake so hard that the attending ran into the room for fear that his hammering heart had in fact given out. Once his breathing had calmed a little, he tried to sift through the fog. His recall of the smell of you, the arousal dripping from between your legs, mixed with your sweat and the familiar scent of your grapefruit and ginger shampoo, nearly pulled a groan from his chest. The soft touch of your hands, cool and strong against the fire that spread through his blood, had brought him back. The feeling of you breaking, the soft whines, the way you said his name… the things he had said, he couldn’t just shut the fuck up could he?

He had to bring his hands up to cover his eyes, willing the images to go away, just for a moment, please, he just needed some time, if only he had time- next time. Next time, he had told you. A desperate promise, a reassurance, trying to tell you that it wasn’t just the chemical coursing through him, it wasn’t just his hijacked nervous system. Did she know? Did she understand? That’s when he asked for you, without thinking, just wanting to see you, to explain. He had never been good with words unless it was biting sarcasm across comms or coolly delivering ultimatums in an interrogation. Then he remembered, the thing that sent his heart barreling through his chest for the second time, the machine next to him screaming. It is good, you had said, it’s ok, it’s ok, you had whispered.  

He ripped the monitors off his chest, ignoring the doctor's protestations, found the clothes that had been brought in for him and got dressed. Now that you were standing here before him he was unsure. You looked scared, and he could count on one hand all the times he had seen you in such a state.

His staring was unnerving, more unnerving than if he had shouted, yelled, grabbed you, anything but this, this was fucking torture. You had to leave, just get off base, go somewhere, anywhere but here- the sudden sound of your name shook you from the reverie. The tone had your eyes finding his immediately.

He stayed seated, scared that if he stood, if he made his way to you, you would run, and you both knew that you were much quicker than him. If you ran, if you left, he would never catch up.  Only when his knuckles began to ache did he realize how tightly he was gripping the edge of the mattress in an effort to keep himself there. It was hard to look at you and not remember the way you had looked when you pressed your hand to his forehead, when you had thrown your head back in pleasure, when you had grabbed his face when he was too exhausted to continue but thankfully no longer felt like he was burning alive. It was hard to remember and not stride across the room and hold you. He took a breath and forced his shoulders to relax in a way that he had done so many times before.

“I-,” he started, his voice cutting through the room, his normal voice, the one you recognized as him and it set you slightly at ease from sheer familiarity, “I’m so sorry.” Now he had to turn his eyes downcast.

“What?” Your response, the shock in your voice, forced him to look at you again. Your hands itched at your sides, confusion rippling across your face.

His eyes narrowed, he knew you so well. Always blaming yourself. “I’m sorry,” he repeated, “I’m sorry that happened, I’m sorry you were put in that position,” the word choice made him nearly cringe. He continued, “I never-I didn’t want it to happen that way.”

Your brain jolted, standing there in shocked silence, his words thundering through your ears accompanied by the pleading of next time.

He pressed on, desperately trying, “I know you, you’re going to think this was your fault. It wasn’t. There was nothing either of us could do, thank you for your, uh, help. Just- fuck, please just say some-,”

Shock still swept through you, the words escaped your mouth before you could think, “Did you mean it?” You figured by the way he leaned back that he knew what you were talking about. Then he held out a hand, palm up, an offering. Before you knew it, you had crossed the room, putting your hand in his and letting it gently pull you between his legs. His giant frame meant even sitting on the gurney that his gaze was level with yours, and those eyes searched your own when one word sounded through the room.

“Yes.”

This word broke you. One fucking word, one word that answered every glance between you two, every smile shared, a word you brokenly whispered into the night when you had a hand between your legs thinking about him knowing you shouldn’t. You hadn’t cried all week, but now the giant tears rolling down your cheeks felt like a release. When his free hand, warm and rough, swiped them away you couldn’t help leaning into it, just as he had done. All tension, all fear, dissipated from the room. That hand continued to just below your ear, cupping your neck, and gently pulling you forward to press his head against yours, eyes shutting, just resting there against each other in the moment.

“What the fuck are we gonna do?” you sighed.

You could feel the smirk that you knew was slipping across his mouth.

“Well, I did say next time.”

This time when you rode him with the small bed creaking beneath the movements, he stopped you any time you tried to speed up (it was your turn to beg and plead), keeping you at a languid torturous pace. That way the bastard had all the time in the world to whisper into your mouth, letting you taste each word, all the things he would do to you next time and all the times after that.

Thank you so much for reading, please let me know what you think! :)

[transqifrey]

hey would anyone get mad if i suddenly got into dmmd in the year of our lord 2023

[lawofcollage]

From a Campaign Perspective: Why Endorsing Kamala Harris Makes the Most Sense

Yay, Biden stepped back! (if this is how you found out and not the supernatural alert system meme... oops)

Let's talk about why Kamala Harris makes the most sense even if she, like Biden, is not one of our first choices (though she's higher on my list, certainly)

(My credentials: Former campaign worker, poli sci degree, etc)

It'd be really fucked up for him to step back and cause a PR disaster for the Dems. Kamala Harris has been at his side this whole time. Stepping over her, a woman of color who has already been doing much of the work, would cause a public relations crisis.

Kamala Harris has name recognition. We know who she is, and we at least vaguely know what she stands for. Name recognition is hugely important in an election and we do not have enough time to build it right now. This is not the time to pick someone that we've never heard of before or even vaguely never heard of.

She's run a campaign before. She knows how to do this, she has a platform that she can modify a little as needed and be ready to go over night. She has the donors from last time and everything.

She's already got a campaign schedule for Biden, she can modify that easily to suit her own needs and has more freedom to campaign than the current president because she's *not* the current president, she doesn't have COVID right now, and she's not older than dirt.

She is perfectly capable of making Trump look like a fucking idiot on stage. The highlight reel is gonna look so much better next time, hopefully.

Personal speculation: I think people are far less likely to sit it out with her name at the top of the ticket.

So what should you be doing right now?

Let's start simple. Understand that Biden did what many of us wanted right here. He stepped away from the campaign he was running and handed it off to someone younger. Fuck yeah!

Also remember that anyone who encourages you not to vote likely has an alternative agenda that involves you having less power to use your voice.

Ok, what else?

Check your voter registration here.

Not registered? You’ve moved and it’s out of date? Update your voter registration/registration here.

Don’t forget to vote up and down the ballot! Local elections matter, and hopefully you’ll find someone you’re a lot more passionate about on a local level.

And make sure your friends do the same!!!!

This website also covers what you may need to bring with you the day of. Some states require you to bring your ID, for example, so go check.Your state may have early voting options, and you should definitely use those! They make life a lot easier. You can check those out here.

P.S. Make sure to check your voter registration closer to the election as well, just in case. Probably sometime in September would be best, but just keep an eye out.

[feyburner]

I loved LOVED a word, a look, will be enough. I’m obsessed with the way you write jason and tim. No pressure to answer this at all, but I was curious if you have a headcanon about how the missing spleen reveal eventually goes

Jay »

Good afternoon Timothy.

« tim

uh oh

Jay »

I just had a fascinating conversation with Doc thompson

Care to hazard a guess about what?

« tim

pollen season

Jay »

No.

« tim

bird flu

Jay »

Is there a reason you havent told anyone in your life that you dont have a fucking spleen?

« tim

okay first of all

i’m not sure why doc thompson felt the need to tell you my private medical information

pretty sure they have a rule about that

Jay »

It’s not her fault.

I mentioned that you got whammied with that stupid germ bomb from Typhoid Tony or whatever the fuck his name was

« tim

vik vyral

Jay »

And she got all serious and told me I should get you into the clinic asap, and I was like no he’s fine now, it was basically a 24 hour bug, and she was like no, theres no such thing as a 24 hour bug for him, he needs to come get his blood tested yesterday

And then she clearly realized I had no fucking clue what she was talking about and clammed up. Wouldn’t say a thing. Told me to ask you myself.

Jay »

The look she gave me when I said you slept it off and went back to work. Like I should know better. like I was letting you be careless and shit bc thats just how I am or something.

« tim

“letting” me?

Jay »

yeah. Letting you. I know you know what I mean

« tim

i’m not sure i do.

Jay »

When youre with someone you take care of them.

I dont pretend to know much about this shit but I know that.

I’m not talking about handcuffing you to the radiator. Im talking about knowing whats going on with you and knowing that sometimes you let shit slide that I wouldn’t. When it comes to you

You do that for me and the others all the time. Thats how it works.

« tim

doc thompson doesn’t know you’re “with” me

Jay »

If you think everyone doesn’t know exactly what’s going on then your detective skills need work

Jay »

Also, Jesus, Tim.

« tim

ok sorry, i didn’t mean the scare quotes part

but did you pause to consider maybe there’s a reason i haven’t told everyone other than whatever shortsighted masochistic bs you’re assuming

Jay »

I dont need you to tell everyone. I’m not asking you to write a report on it.

Just like. if there’s any other major medical shit can you maybe tell me

Before you fucking die of a sinus infection or whatever bc the asshole who lives with you didn’t know your immune system has the horsepower of a bicycle

« tim

did you know you curse more when you’re fronting like you’re not worried about me

Jay »

I’m actually not fronting! in this moment!

« tim

okay

well. i am sorry

that sounded sarcastic bc of who i am as a person

but it’s not. i mean it.

Jay »

Sorry for yelling at you

« tim

i dont wanna go into it over text but i’ll tell you tonight. okay?

about what happened.

also there’s nothing else. it’s just the spleen thing

ok?

Jay »

Okay.

« tim

well and the mango allergy

well. and i’m double jointed specifically bc i have joint-hypermobility syndrome

which is why im so flexible :)

but also why i dislocate things a lot :(

um and im mildly allergic to carrots, bananas, pineapples, and most legumes, but it’s fine they just make my tongue itch

i think that’s all

Jay »

Tim can you be honest with me for a second

« tim

yeah…

Jay »

Are you inbred

« tim

NSJDN/&2&jdj?!_£_??

Jay »

Like are you that type of rich person

You can tell me. We are not going to procreate so I dont mind either way

« tim

just scared the living shit out of an intern who had never seen me laugh before. i think she thought i was choking

jesus CHRIST

i will see you at home.

Jay »

You

didn’t answer the question….

[phantom-0-writer]

prompt 02: tim’s birthday present

Tim sat in his empty house at the empty dining table. The table was actually quite large; it had enough seats to sit at least 15 people. But there was just Tim there. 

His parents had promised and sworn up and down that they would come back in time for his birthday. He had everything planned out. He picked out the birthday cake, put on the candles, decorated, ordered his parents' favorite foods, his parents' favorite movie for movie night, popcorn the likes. But that morning, just when Tim was double checking to make sure everything was ready for the most perfect birthday ever, his parents had called to tell him that something really important had come up, and they wouldn’t be able to make it. Tim figured it was better than last year, at least they called this time. 

Tim stared down at the cake, the candles lit. He had heard online that people would make wishes on their birthday cake and blow it out. Tim thought that was a weird thing to do, but it wouldn’t hurt to try. 

What should he wish for? It would have to be something special that he doesn’t already have. Tim thought for a long moment, the candles bleeding into the frosting of the cake. 

A brother. 

Tim closed his eyes and put his hands together like he’s seen the other children to do in the cartoons. And Tim wished for a big brother. When he finally wished hard enough (whatever that meant) he opened his eyes and blew out what was left of the candles. 

Tim waited. What exactly was he supposed to do now? In the cartoons, everyone would celebrate and cheer and the birthday boy would open his presents. There wasn’t anyone to cheer for Tim, or any presents for him to open. 

Suddenly the house shook, and the loud sound of a crash sound came from the backyard. Quickly, Tim did the sensible thing and go check out what the noise was. That's what the characters always did in horror movies. 

In Tim’s backyard, there was what looked like a weird space ship that had crashed into his backyard. There wasn’t any fire or anything, but the spaceship looked pretty wrecked. Getting closer, Tim could vaguely make out that someone was inside the spaceship. Looking around, he saw what looked like maybe the handle. Tim couldn’t really tell. 

When Tim put his hand on it and tried to open it, something poked out mechanically and pricked his finger. He flinched back instinctively, caressing his finger tip.

“Recognized: Danny Fenton. System Override.” A robotic lady spoke. Who is Danny Fenton? As if to answer him, the space ship opened its hatch, and inside was an unconscious black haired teenager. “System Malfunctioning. Please Assis-” The robotic voice spoke again, before getting cut off as if the power had died. 

Suddenly, Tim remembered his wish. A big brother. 

This was Danny Fenton, and he was supposed to be Tim’s big brother

----

When Danny woke up, he found himself in a very soft plush something. Something that definitely wasn’t the Spector Speeder. Alarmed, he sat up quickly to find that he didn’t recognize where he was at all. He also didn’t recognize the weird kid that was staging at him from two feet away. 

“Hi, I’m Tim. Timothy Drake.” The boy introduced himself almost business like. 

“Uh, hi Tim.” Danny responded awkwardly. “You got any idea where I am?” Danny sat up properly, moving the blanket (?) off of him and turned to face the weird and kinda creepy kid. 

“You’re in Drake Manor. Which is where I live.” He answered again. 

“Ok…ay” Danny nodded thoughtfully. “Any idea how I got here?” Truthfully, Danny hadn’t really been expecting an answer, but he still got one. 

“Because I made a birthday wish to have a big brother.” He answered in the same way he had answered the other question, very matter-of-factly. 

“Ok- Wait. What?” Danny asked, doing a double take at Tim. 

“You’re supposed to be my big brother, right?” Tim was starting to look a little hesitant, and as weirded out as Danny felt he couldn’t help but feel bad about the whole situation. 

“Where are your parents, Tim?” 

“There not home, because they had really important things to do for work.” 

Danny nodded. “Do you know when they’ll be back?” 

Tim shook his head. “They were supposed to come back today, because it’s my birthday. But they said they couldn’t make it.” 

Well, shit. Didn’t that sound awfully like Danny’s birthdays before he had given up on his parents showing up. At least he had Jazz. This kid looked like he was alone. 

Not liking the silence, Tim started fidgeting again. “So, are you gonna be my brother, then?” 

And what was Danny supposed to say, No? Besides, if he was really causing problems being in this random universe, then Clockwork would figure it out. 

Bonus: 

Danny sat at Tim’s dinner table, the kid looking at him radiating in excitement, each with a plate of stupid expensive pasta in front of them. “You said your name was Tim, right?” Danny started thoughtfully. Tim nodded, drinking up everything Danny said. “Well, first course of action as you, big brother. I need to give you a nickname.” 

Tim’s eyes sparkled at the prospect. “Like what?”

Danny tapped his chin exaggeratedly, “Hm… Tim, Tim.” Turing the name around while he absentmindedly twirled his fork between his fingers, Danny wondered what he should come up with. Suddenly, in a misplaced strength, Danny’s fork flew out of his hand. 

Before Danny could even say anything, “I’ll get you a new one!” Tim offered quickly. Getting up from his chair, his foot got tangled behind the leg of the chair and Tim fell quietly on the floor with an oof. 

Danny laughed at him. “You okay, Timbers?” He asked, getting up to check on the boy. 

“Yeah, I like Timbers.” Tim said, a bright smile on his face despite the blossoming bruise on his arm.

------------

table of contents

[cavegirlpoems]

I see we're talking about XP!

@thydungeongal and @imsobadatnicknames2 have interesting posts up, and now it's my turn to throw my thoughts out there. SO. I think of XP as the game itself offering you a little bribe. Do the things the game wantss you to be doing, and the game gives you an XP to say thank you. Get enough XP, and you're reward is greater a permanent bump in power, meaning greater ability to exert your will over the world and therefore greater agency. (Systems like Fate Points, Willpower, Inspiration etc work the same, except the increased agency is a temporary one-time thing, not permanent, so at times I'll lump them in).

So. Let's talk about a few different systems and how they handle this.

Let's start at the very begining (a very good place to begin). In the very early editions of D&D - back when Elf was a class - you got XP for treasure. Every gold coin you got out of a dungeon (or equivallent value of other treasure) was 1 XP. This worked well; the game wanted you to go into a dungeon and explore it for treasure, while trying not to die. If you succeeded, you got XP, which made you better at doing that so you could do it again in a more dangerous dungeon. And because treasure is XP, and treasure weighs you down, getting it out is a meaningful activity. Hell, many of these games measure weight and encumbrance on a scale of 'how many coins' to drive this home. It was a good loop. Early D&D has many faults (like the weird racism in the MM) but the xp system is something it absolutely nailed.

Next up, let's look at classic vampire the masquerade. At the end of each session, you get 1 xp just for being there, and then another if your character learned something, if you portrayed your character well, and if your character was 'heroic'. So, what's classic VtM rewarding? Ultimately, it rewards the player for being the kind of player the game wants. If you get into character, engage with the game world, and act like an interesting protagonist, you get rewarded for it. It's a bit fuzzy, and at the GM's discretion, but its very up-front with what it wants to incentivise. It was the 90s, they were still working out how to be a narrative-driven game, but you can see where they were going with it.

OK, now lets look at something a bit weirder; monsterhearts. The main source of XP here will be Moves. Rather than a bolted-on rewards mechanic, each game mechanic you engage with might grant you xp. You can use your strings on another PC to bribe them with XP when you want them to do something. Lots of abilities just give you an XP for doing a thing, such as a Ghost ability that gives you XP for spying on somebody, or aa Fae ability that gives other players XP when they promise you things. Here, XP is baked into the game, but its very up front about being a bribe. Act the way the game wants, or go along with other players' machinations, and you get rewarded for it. And, critically, XP is just one part of a wider game-economy of incentives and metacurrencies; it links in with strings and harm and +1forward in interesting and intricate ways that push the game forward. Monsterhearts is a well designed game, and you should study it.

Finally, let's look at how D&D 5e does it, as a What Not To Do! We have two different options. The first is XP for combat. When you use violence to defeat something, you get XP for it. Under this option, the only way to mechanically improve your character is by killing things. So, we can conclude that D&D is a game that wants you to engage in constant violence. The other option is 'milestone XP'. IE: you level up at the GM's whim, when they feel like it. What does this reward? Fucking nothing. Or, at best, you're rewarded for following the railroad and reaching pre-planned plot moments in a pre-scripted story. You either have no agency in the matter, or are rewarded for subsuming your agency to the will of the GM. (This pattern continues with inspiration rewards, which are given 'when the GM is entertained by you'. Fucking dire.) "Oh!" the 5e fandom says "But a good GM can write a list of achievements that will trigger milestone XP". And yes, they can, but that's not how the text of the game presents it. That's a house rule. That's the GM doing game design to add a new, better, mechanic to the game to fix its failings. Is it any wonder, then, that the 5e fandom puts so mucn weight on the GM's shoulders, and has such a weird semi-antagonistic relationship between GM and player? Is it any wonder that absolutely brutal railroading (and the resulting backlash of disruptive play) is so rife over there? Look at how the incentive structures are built? It's either killing forever or GM-as-god-king! Anyway, yeah. Consider what you reward with XP, because that will become what your game wants. And if you're hacking a game, one of the most efficient hacks is to change what you get XP for and suddenly the game will pivot to something very different.

[iguessthisisanewobsession]

this is a sequel to this.

The hoodlums and nightlings: @skulld3mort-1fan, @satanicrutialspecialist, @terzatheunderscorerima, @autumnwulf, @jaggedheart11, @froartuck,

Danny is panicking.

Not to say that he isn’t usually in this state of mind, but it has became very clear that he had fucked up as he looked down at the two unconscious vigilantes in his living room.

He had just moved to Gotham for a scholarship.

He can’t go to jail!

Glancing around Danny threw the creep stick behind the sofa.

‘Think Danny think! Fuck who to call? Should I even call?? I can’t lose my scholarship, I’ll have to move back to amity!

“Uuhhh-“

Dragging two unconscious men into his bedroom was not how is Thursday morning would go.

But here he is!

He gently plopped the two on their sides and closed the door.

“Fuck.. fuck.. ah fuck.”

Grabbing his phone, he scrolled through his contacts and pressed call.

“Pick up pick up come on don’t be the first time you sleep in-“

“Yo man what’s up?”

“Hey- Tim! This Danny from film class!”

“Kinda figured man, caller ID and all. Why are you awake anyways you said we would continue our call tomorrow?”

“Yeah.. about that uh this going to sound a bit odd but I’m a transfer so I don’t really know much about Gotham rules and stuff so there might be a code for this or something but-“

“Danny, you’re rambling. Just spit it out and-“

“IMAYHAVETWOOFTHEVIGNETTESONMYBEDPLEASEHELP!”

.

.

“Come again?”

Danny took in another deep breath,

“I was getting a glass of water, and someone broke into my apartment, so I knocked them out. Turns out it was a vigilante. And he was not alone. So now I have two vigilantes in my bed. Please help.”

There was another pause and Danny heard what he thought was a snort through the speaker before Tim cleared his throat.

“Ok, don’t panic, I know a guy. He’ll come over and take them out of your hands. Just need an address.”

~~~~~~~~

There was a tap at his fire escape half an hour later.

Danny unlatched the window to let in Batman and Red Robin.

“Birdy retrieval system; you bag em’ we drag em’. How may we help you?”

Danny scuffed his slippers against his rug with a weary chuckle,

“I am so sorry I-“

Batman gently rested his palm on Danny’s shoulder,

“The two of them were supposed to do surveillance in the area and had the wrong complex. You did nothing wrong; this entire situation is on their fault, and they will be properly dealt with for their actions.”

Before swiftly walking into Danny’s bedroom and slinging Red hood onto his back.

Red Robin for his part was holding back laughter as he shouldered the larger nightwing like nothing.

“Yeah man, it’s not everyday someone gets the jump on one of us let alone two.”

And before he could even begin to comprehend how weird his life was, the four left Danny to his own.

With a shake of his head, Danny grabbed to creep stick and leaned it against his radiator before locking his window once more and headed to bed.

“It’s too early for this..”

~~~~~~~~

Meanwhile in the Batcave:

Tim: YOU GOT TAKEN OUT BY A TWINK!!

[wobster109]

Dissecting the post-Sunday conversation between Ratio and Aventurine

This conversation is not, as many are interpreting, proof of Dr. Ratio's loyalty.

It couldn't be: they are still in the dreamscape, where the Family's eyes and ears are everywhere. No, this is a post-mission debrief, heavily encoded and disguised as a quarrel.

Dr. Ratio: You look pale. Or, is that also part of your act? Aventurine: Didn't think you'd have the nerve to show yourself. Dr. Ratio: I thought this was exactly what you wanted. After all, I faithfully fulfilled my duties as you instructed. Dr. Ratio: Just tell me if you can't hold on any longer. Aventurine: So, the "genius" of the Council of Mundanites wants to be my undertaker now? My… what an honor.

First part of the convo. Aventurine is playing his part perfectly. He’s acting angry and hurt: Ratio you rotten betrayer.

Interestingly, Ratio is slipping. Are you ok? Tell me if you can’t hold on. It almost sounds like he's a bit unsure about what happened. "I thought this was what you wanted", like he's asking for reassurance in some form.

Aventurine has to work hard to drag Ratio back on-script. "Have you forgotten, Doctor? You betrayed me." It's a hint and a reminder: stick with the plan, Doctor!

Dr. Ratio: Yes, and I'm pretty sure the people at the Strategic Investment Department would love to be notified of your death in due time, but let's not forget you won't be seeing them, because I'm the manager of this task. Aventurine: Great, then tell your people that Aventurine is ready to go in seventeen system hours.

Ratio asks for instructions (disguised as a taunt), and Aventurine provides them. I'm not entirely sure what instructions were given. It seems to be What should I tell the IPC? / Here's what you tell them.

Aventurine: My conversation with Sunday convinced me that there's a traitor in The Family, and that they hold the secrets of Penacony… So, I took the opportunity to set everything in motion. Aventurine: I even managed to recover the gift money. Things haven't gone this smoothly since I walked through the doors of The Reverie… Now, I'm only one step away from victory. Let's just wait and see.

Confirms that everything is on track. I believe the line about the gift money is actually him confirming that he has the aventurine cornerstone.

Dr. Ratio: Sounds like a very elaborate way of saying that you failed. Aventurine: That's all I can say. Have you forgotten, Doctor? You betrayed me.

This sounds like a bit of a warning from Aventurine. Remember we can't say too much here.

Dr. Ratio: You've got a lot of nerve — how exactly do you plan on completing your task while you're hands are tied by The Harmony? [...] Dr. Ratio: That's true, but what's your plan? Did you conceal an Orbital Support beacon in that gift money bag?

This is interesting. Ratio doesn't know the full plan! I imagine he's tremendously on edge. He's fishing for info, again disguised as taunts, specifically info about how Aventurine is going to get himself out—but of course, Aventurine can't say it out loud, not in the dreamscape.

Ratio is at the breaking point.

Dr. Ratio: Fine. Here, take this. Open it when you're on your last legs. You'll thank me.

YES this is what I was waiting for, the moment when his whole voice changes! His usual tone is very much like giving-a-speech. He pronounces each word and syllable with precision, and clearly enunciating all the ending consonants.

Not here though. It's all grumbles. I think this might be the first time we're seeing cracks, and the personal Dr. Ratio is showing through instead of the public-speaking one.

Aventurine: You catch on pretty fast, Doctor.

He caught on that he was supposed to play along and not say anything that outright gives the plan away. (In my opinion he was pushing it a bit.)

I wonder if that's why he pulls the sudden disappearing act. He's slipping up, and/or bad at saying good-bye. Can't trust himself to get another word out. 🥺