#PI Monitoring

[curekahealthcarestore]

Dr.Odin’s Pulse Oximeter + PI – YM-201 

Dr. Odin’s pulse oximeter is used to measure blood oxygen saturation level and pulse rate. It is a durable and reliable oximeter with an OLED display. The first number that comes up is, most often, the pulse rate. The second number that comes up is the level of oxygen in the blood.

https://www.cureka.com/shop/healthcare-devices/medical-equipments/pulse-oximeter/dr-odins-pulse-oximeter-pi-ym201/

[italyveneziano]

Cling

[tamara-kama]

You know.. I kinda thought this would be a bad hack of an existing game but this Titanic NES game seems well made and I like how you can play as Rose escaping the Titanic! 😁💜👍🏻🎮

It does play a bit like Prince of Persia though IMHO but I kinda like the gameplay here more than PoP TBH

[knifesxedge]

genuinely genuinely. the party poison themed microphone was truly a Step Above. like gerard had already brought so much cunt to both the character and their onstage presence in danger days (the hair, the dye on his neck, the fur coat, the costumes…) but to then commit to the character enough to have their MICROPHONE be THEMED TO MATCH THE CHARACTER’S GUN…………who is doing it like them. for real

[recreationaldivorce]

seriously considering buying a cheap second hand laptop for trying out new distros and otherwise fucking around with linux so i dont have to mess with my actual main setup

[jade-curtiss]

Btw j'explique pas les détails, 5 ans de lore vraiment bouetteux, comme c'est juste maintenant que chu comme ça parce-qu'avant je clownais, mais tsé quand les cops sont comme che vous pour toute niaiserie imaginable, tu sors pu trop mettons (la majorité du temps c'est juste du vibecheck, mais ayoye, jamais eu autant d'attention, toute que des fans, compliqué de tenir une job tho, pas tout le temps facile à bouncer ce monde là mettons, des fois tu sors par la fenêtre(presque, très presque)

[nightingale-prompts]

Field Trip-DCxDP prompt

(Another Danny the Cosmic Babysitter pompt)

Danny had little patience for the adult heroes with a handful of exceptions. That is most of the heroes are fine but Danny likes to complain because he isn't called to be on missions often.

Instead, he often gets calls on Friday nights to watch Superboy and that means Robin comes too.

Danny is their favorite babysitter and the only people Danny doesn't complain about. He treats the boys with as much care as he does his little sister but he is also pretty negligent. If the boys were unharmed and not traumatized then he lets them do whatever they want. Much to their father's concern.

The boys were dropped off at Danny's portal after school with their bags and Clark gave Danny one of his mother's cheese apple pies and a batch of Alfred's cookies.

Clark wished them luck and reminded them to do their homework and to be respectful to Danny.

Bruce called and reminded Danny to....blah blah blah. Danny wasn't listening he was a busy god.

Danny instead took the boys on a field trip when Jon asked for help on his science homework.

Danny took them to his observatory and showed them just a fraction of the infinite cosmos. The observatory was a place he made to monitor the realms, tracking the path of stars and galaxies, and the life on planets.

"So how does life form on different planets?" Jon asked staring into the rainbow-colored galaxy twisting around them.

"Let's go see!" Danny opened a portal to a far-off desolate world under a purple sun making sure to put a protective barrier on the boys so they would survive the environment.

"Are suns supposed to be that color?" Damian asked.

"They can be any color," Danny said reassuring "Large amounts of potassium salts cause the star to look this way."

The boys looked around on this planet hoping to see new aliens. But there were none. Danny laughed at their puzzled expressions.

"This planet has no life on it. In 5 billion years the right conditions will be met to form organic life when this star burns enough of the potassium around it. Frozen ice in asteroids will hit this planet and water will form and the heat will create an atmosphere. Organisms will form and die and for a brief moment, this world will have life." Danny explained laying out the beginning of life.

"What? So they won't live? Why not?" Jon asked in distress of the idea.

"Haha, don't worry. That's how it's supposed to be. Life is a miraculous thing and the beings that will one day grow here are one of the billions of planets that share the same fate. They will never gain sentience of course but they will live and living in a universe so fickle and absurd is a testament. Think of just how amazingly it is to live on earth." Danny said taking the boys into another portal to a world populated by beasts.

Alien beasts that walked on four legs and birds flew.

Damian marveled at the giant birds that dwarfed any on Earth.

"This is a super planet with enough oxygen to support 50 Earths. Full of life and animals who have evolved from the small bacteria that would have died like on the planet before had the environment been different. Life is a roulette wheel though and even the same environment could yield different results." Danny said as they stood on the grassy clift.

"There really are no people?" Damian asked.

"No, and there never will be. You two are the only people who will ever reach this planet. This world will never know society. No government. No civilization." Danny hummed in thought.

"That's a good thing." Damian said.

"Is it? Maybe. Even a lowly beast still looks up at the sky and dreams of a better existence. But here this world will never know a truly peaceful life. It will always be predator and prey. Survival is all they know. No, they will mostly live short lives knowing only fear and violence. They will not know art or music, things gained from learning and sharing. They have not reached that part of development and they never will know. An ice age will soon come when their planet loses its orbit and they will all die." Danny said as he ushered the boys to another world.

Jon and Damian when silent in despair. Learning the benign cruelty of the universe was harder when you had to see it.

The next was a world that was a smoking wreckage.

"This world was once populated with billions. The people had evolved from the smallest life forms, surpassed their beastly heritage, and grew into tribes. They built cities and hubs. But they also built weapons. The truth is boys that the progress of a species hinges on the ability to evolve and the greatest driving force is competition. The greatest opponent is yourself. These people chose to give in to that call and they suffered for it. Some turned towards the stars and had long fled to start a new life on another planet." Danny said soberly.

Damian and Jon looked at the space god and noticed he suddenly didn't look like his usual self. He was slightly weathered and creased at the edges.

Danny opened another portal to another world. A city full of lights where below them.

"This boys is a planet of strange aliens. They dream constantly of a better life but don't know how to achieve it. They work together and they break apart, always arguing. But time and time again they come together to prove they care for one another. True there will be those who work against this collective and care only for themselves. Take pity on them, they have succumbed to their instincts from when they were just simple beasts trying to survive. If they can one day look up and see that all they have in this lonely universe where life can be blinked out of existence if the tide shifts differently then they'd truly become a better species. Boys you must understand that your existence is nothing short of a miracle upon miracle. We are all made from stardust and it is next to impossible that you exist at this moment but despite all odds you are here." Danny said as he flew over the city carrying the boys.

As Damian and Jon looked down they recognized landmarks this was earth.

"Will the same thing happen to us as that other planet?" Jon asked.

"I don't know. You mortals tend to surprise us. I can probably predict a billion futures and still be wrong. I'll have to ask the time god. Still, there is no telling what I do know is that the future will have you two and that tells me that it's going to be okay.

[hellothisisangle]

Relationship Analysis

Prefacing this by admitting I had to rewrite a good chunk of River. He’s notoriously got few quests leading up to the romance side of things. The actual relationship jump is marked with an arrow a bit below, here’s some backstory

↓

V would never willingly work with a cop. They’ve been disillusioned enough by the system and the people who enforce it to build their life on chaos and middle fingers. But the job that lead to River was backed by the kind of money that made V bite their tongue, swallow the “ACAB”, and resist the urge to spit on the guy’s polished boots. Doesn’t mean there wasn’t more than a few off-color statements thrown out here and there though. River barely rolled his eyes, didn’t instigate. He was a model lawman, like something out of a movie. Actually, too much like a movie. Because when the preliminary investigation of the Peralez’s case [I FOUGHT THE LAW] came to a close and River’s superiors told him to stop pursuing, V could tell this was another one of those NCPD cover-up situations.

“Exactly what I expect from donut munchers. Good thing my client’s an independent contractor,” V snidely remarked.

“I’ll take this to the top if I have to,” River said with conviction.

So, so virtuous. Then, another distraught call came from the Peralezes [DREAM ON]. They’d had a suspicious break in, needed a professional to look into it. V shows up, and who’s already on-site, all badge-and-honor attitude? River fucking Ward. Again. Definitely not because the NCPD told him to, so what- Out of the goodness of his heart?

“You make it sound like it’s something to be ashamed of,” River sighed.

(…) “Not something you come across in this city,” V pointed out. “And especially not in cops.”

Somehow, V is able to get more information, why River is really doing this. He’s not a stranger to home invasions, lived it first hand, lost both his parents. He doesn’t want to see another family torn apart. River is starting to seem more like a real person than a one-dimensional neon sign that reads, ‘I believe in the law’. If there’s anyone who could get V to even remotely reconsider the idea that not every badge is a pig, it just might be River.

They managed to track down the Peralez’s boogeymen together, although- the case involved more victims than just the affluent family who hired them, and somehow seemed to be related to a power with ties to the NCPD. River immediately wants to go whistleblower. He’s talking protective custody, full exposure. V raises an eyebrow. It isn’t only the Peralezes being monitored- strings all across Night City are being pulled. And if River wants to trigger a massacre just to save the few people in front of them, that blood’s on him. On the other hand, if the Peralezes fork over however much they think their lives are worth, V isn’t complaining- V could give a shit about politicians. River, ever the hero, insists he’ll take the information back to the station- see if he can’t orchestrate protection for everyone. Noble, but stupid, V thinks.

Afterwards, V gets a call from a mysterious number- a scrambled voice telling them to detour from this trail they’re following. V attempts to check in with the Peralezes- the line has gone cold. V then contacts River, who sounds a little different over the holo, kind of forced. He requests to meet in person. Chubby Buffalo’s BBQ in The Glen. V already got their pay, they wanted to wipe their hands of this whole thing, but curiosity got the better of them. And what does River have to say? He got canned. Tossed out by a system he believed in. V? They laugh. Double over. Find it darkly poetic. The guy who walked the line, booted the second it became inconvenient.

River doesn’t think it’s so funny. His parents’ murderer that was never brought to justice, the Peralezes, countless other investigations swept under the rug…

“So what’re you gonna do about it?” V asks.

“Become a PI,” River replies.

Fitting. Suits him better. He already owns the long leather trench. Some time later, V and River accomplish [THE HUNT] together. River is offered a position back on the force. To V’s surprise they turn it down.

↓

V is convinced to work a few private cases with River, split the profits, and the more they’re side by side, the more they notice the little details. A familiar broad frame. A voice too caring. A laugh a bit too loud. Awkward. Earnest. The kind of man who tries to look away when V leans close, but can’t help but blush and stiffen. V sees echos they’re not sure what to make of. They push River- how about bending a rule here and there? You ever use handcuffs for something off the books? And River gives. Slowly but surely. He thinks dipping his toe in the darkness to be with V isn’t so terrible. However, V isn’t a toe-dip. They’re a deep-dive into the black. River starts falling, answering texts too quickly, giving in too fast, can’t say “no” to V.

V teases him that his code of ethics had a weak spine. Internally, it catches them off guard. Maybe this is how people are supposed to act when they really care about another person, without expecting something in return and all that. It’s not like V would know. And the look River gives when V says something absolutely filthy with a straight face is kind of irresistible.

V thought they’d enjoy ruining him, pushing him past his limits just to say, “I told you so.” All the while, River’s still polite, still checks, asks, holds back before doing anything impulsive. Makes V want to unravel him completely, to see a raw side. But when it started happening for real, it didn’t feel as good as they imagined. Turns out River likes a grip on his wrists and V isn’t sure they’re in any position to be the one in control. The one to say “love me” when they could be gone tomorrow. Under normal circumstances, V wouldn’t mind stringing someone along. With River, he’s just too genuine. Maybe they like him because he somehow still sees something good in V, or maybe it’s because V’s scared no one else will as much as River. Not even themselves.

[bibleofficial]

they’re flirting ❤️

i need to feel a man’s beard stubble on my neck rn immediately

[curekahealthcarestore]

Dr.Odin Pulse Oximeter + PI(A-330N) 

Dr.Odin Pulse Oximeter is an easy and helpful way of monitoring the level of oxygen. It is easy to use, supports six display modes for easy evaluation, and comes with a low battery voltage indicator. It has a perfusion index indication for measuring.

https://www.cureka.com/shop/healthcare-devices/medical-equipments/pulse-oximeter/dr-odin-pulse-oximeter-pia-330n/

[jinjeriffic]

How about some Babs&Jazz?

Just thinking how Babs is usually sidelined/just tech support in dcxdp, so here's her being the protagonist:

Babs has a nose for trouble, and she keeps her fingers in a lot of information pies as Oracle. Working at the library, it raises some red flags for her when she gets inter-library loan requests from a small town in Illinois for publications on topics like: How to Help Someone Recover from Medical Trauma? PTSD from Supervillain Attacks (this is a Gotham library after all). Dealing with Meta-phobia. Having a Supervillain Relative etc.

All from the same person.

So Babs starts digging and runs into the suspicious lack of information about news from Amity Park. And how certain topic searches seem to be tracked and monitored. Hm.

She backtracks the Amity library account to find Jasmine Fenton's identity. Looks into the internet activity of her household. She finds Jazz's account on a psychology forum (she's using a fake name, nat) and the questions she's been asking have Babs even more worried. She DMs Jazz with some helpful advice, they strike up a conversation and over the following months Jazz both lets little details slip and confides more and more in Babs.

(just imagine a ton of Bat related bullshit happening in the meantime too, so Babs can't focus all her attention on Amity)

The picture Babs puts together is not pretty. There is some kind of shady government activity going on in Amity, hence the restricted and monitored information flow. Jazz is worried about her younger brother. Their parents are mad scientists who are involved in the government BS somehow, her brother is some kind of meta, and both kids are terrified how their parents will react if he gets outed.

Jazz has been looking into her options for getting them both out of that house and preferably the entire town. What it takes to become an emancipated minor, what she would need to get custody of her brother etc.

Babs helps her set up an extraction plan by getting them fake IDs, setting up a bank account and getting a used car under her fake name etc. Jazz is understandably suspicious at first, but ultimately she's just so relieved to finally have a competent adult in their corner!

It all comes to a head when Babs gets a text from Jazz's burner phone.

"t kno w g2g"

[tamara-kama]

Wolfenstein 3D, iD Software, PC

Recalbox OS, Native:ecwolf port

800x600 IR, 640x480 external, bicubic upscaling

Mac/Jaguar/3DO graphics pack w/rotation sprites

Raspberry Pi 4 OC to 2Ghz

Toshiba 19A26 19" CRT TV

Wireless XBox 360 controller with evil backplate

[tanoraqui]

In Which Space Orcs are Men

[AO3] A "what if humans are space orcs" take on Dagor Dagorath. (Aka the prophecied apocalypse of Middle Earth. Scifi story accessible to non-LotR nerds!)

Elves weren't really supposed to leave Earth. That's what they told us—the Elves, that is, told people thousands of years ago, when Elves could still be found here and there. When I was born, elves were nearly as much a fairy tale as they’d been on Ancient Earth.

Elves weren't supposed to leave Earth, the Elves said in the fairy tales, and in a few old scraps of records scattered around known space. They literally weren't made for it. They could only do it if they brought Earth with them—Arda they called it, leaves or dirt, water or a rare bubble of air, perfectly preserved in a white crystal. There are tons of tales about Elves losing their lifeline jewels—their hearts, their silimirs—and roping people into epic quests to get them back before they—the Elf—faded to nothingness. 

Even the jewels weren't enough, though. That's why there are also stories about Elves who fell in love with a person or a place and stayed there until they faded, or Elves who charmed someone into following them back to Fairyland on Earth...because whatever they said, Elves didn't really live on Earth. Humans have maintained their home planet as a monitored nature reserve since like the 40th century, open only to vetted research teams and serious Human religious pilgrimages. The most confirmed accounts of Elves that exist are of their ships appearing out of nowhere, with no trace of any tech that would enable it, at random, always-changing points within 100 miles or so of Earth.

Nobody ever came back from trying to follow Elves home. Mostly Elves tried to dissuade people from trying. But there are always crazy and curious people—and Elves usually attracted those, because any Elf who left the home they were "made" for was usually crazy and curious themselves. 

Those were the stories I grew up with. There was a cave near the orphans' creche which was supposed to be haunted by a faded Elf. I didn't really believe it—like I said, the last confirmed Elf was last seen like 5,000 years ago, and not even on my planet. People have met two dozen new sentient races since then. We've discovered that reincarnation is probably real (just functionally untrackable), prompting the Pan-Religious Reform Wars. The last person to see a live Elf was still traveling via natural wormholes—they literally didn't know that you could loop pi.

.

When the Human natal sun started to turn really red, it wasn’t that big a deal at first. It’s a very important, very sad event for any species, but it happens to everyone eventually. It happened to the Hectort just after we invented interstellar flight. There were some unusual gravatic waves around Earth’s Sol, but nothing worth noting to anyone who didn’t already care for personal reasons.

Then the Elves sent us a message.

The local Parks Service picked it up, of course. I bet the Humans meant to hush it up at first—though the Centaurian government still won’t admit anything—but someone leaked it immediately on the intergalactic net. It should’ve only been famous as a joke of a hoax, but…

It was basically just a metal box with rudimentary fire-thrusters soldered on the sides. It contained two things. The first was a recording/replaying device so antiquated that the only way they got it working is that it was already playing on loop, and didn’t stop until someone disconnected it from its power source.

The message was in Ancient Bouban, which some folklorist soon announced is the latest language an Elf could know, since the last known Elf went back to “Arda.” The voice somehow sounded melodic to every species with a concept of music, from the screeching Vesarians to the deep-sea sub-sonic Thinkers, even when translated through cheap, staticky speakers. And to most species, the speaker was audibly distraught.

They said,

This is the final message from the Firstborn of Eru to the Secondborn, and everyone else. The Battle of Battles has come, and we…are losing. If there are any who remember the ancient love and loyalty which bound our peoples, if there are any heirs remaining of Thargalax the Magnificent, of Nine-Fingered Frodo, of the noble Houses of Haleth, Hador and Beor—

The speaker drew a sharp breath, there.

—by great oaths and greater friendship I bid you now to raise your swords and ride to our aid. Ride as swiftly as you can!

We will hold for another year. We will, they said determinedly. After that, it is unlikely that…

Another, shakier breath. A smile forced into a voice which would rather weep.

Fëanáro and Nienna believe there is a way to destroy the Straight Road. If we must, if it comes to it, we will do so, and trap the First Enemy here in this dying world with us. Though I don’t know about—

Hair-aristocrat! a more distant, slightly less perfectly melodious voice called, in a language so dead that they needed computers to decode it. The walls are falling, we need to go!

If you never hear from us again, and no sudden discord arises among you, you will know we succeeded, the first speaker said quickly. If otherwise…I am sorry. Either way, I bid you all only, remember us! Oh beautiful flames, remember us, as we have ever remembered y— 

There was a sudden screech of tearing metal, a defiant, musical battle-cry, and a jarring silence. Then the message restarted.

And that wasn’t even the strangest thing in the box. The strangest thing was the recorder’s power source, which was powering the whole tiny rocket mechanism as well. It was an Elf-jewel right out of a fairy tale, a fist-sized, translucent not-quite-diamond—but instead of rock or water or a much-loved scrap of plant, the only thing it held was light.

...Kind of. It isn’t normal light. It arguably isn’t light at all, as we know it—scientists now think it’s technically some sort of plasmoid aether, except it only acts like a plasmoid aether about half the time. 

It has no detectable source within the jewel. It fully illuminates whatever space it’s in, no matter how big. Its visible radiation is a frequency, the scientists say, that matches a hyper-accelerated version of what the universe must’ve sounded like in the split second after the Big Bang.

It makes people remember things, when they see it in person or sometimes even across a holo. Some remember a similar light in a strange traveler’s eyes. Others, dreamily enchanted valleys where spring never faded, or tall castles, bright swords, and stern and glorious lords and ladies. And some of us got hit with a whole lifetime of memories in one go: an identical gem on the brow of a sober forest king, friends who slipped through trees like shadows save for their merry laughter, an impossibly beautiful gold-haired maiden dancing in a glittering cavern...

(And all the pain and loss that came with them.)

And some people just remember the sight of a distant star—in another world, in another lifetime.

Reincarnation was provable but untraceable…until now. 

The Thinker ambassador on Astrolax Station 5 was the first to kick up a fuss. Most Thinkers never leave their home planet, they're too huge and aquatic. But like I said, there's always crazy and curious people. The ambassador started bellowing the second che heard the message, without even seeing the light, because, "I know him! My Wisdom! We must send aid!" That made some news, and random other people shared their own, less dramatic revelations, and soon a compilation swept the net with timestamps showing that most of them were organically independent, not just jumping on the bandwagon….

Even that might've gotten written off intergalactically. The Thinkers are big in reincarnationist circles, on account of how they claim that deep in their planetary ocean they can hear echoes of their past lives. But being mostly planet-bound means they're not really influential on a big political level. Or it would've sparked another surge of the Reform Wars, and everybody would've remembered the rock, but not the recording. Or there would’ve been a fight over this potentially infinite energy source (though that is so last giga-annum)….

But first it was shown in person to the current Director of the Admiralty of the Astral Alliance, President of the X-ee Empire and Matron of the House of S,sh, Ch’ees/i’i S,sh. I was actually there—I was Captain of her ceremonial Alliance guards, in a last-ditch attempt to salvage my career after Zanzibus. Very ceremonial, considering the X-eee have laser-proof shells and pincers and I have, what, opposable thumbs? Vestigial tusks?

I wasn’t paying attention at first, too busy being suddenly assaulted by all my own memories. So I missed the President freezing mid-step and gasping (in X-eee), “Mother.” I also missed her rising alarm call of an attempt to speak Ancient Elvish without an Elvish tongue or lips.

I sure didn’t miss her snap back to X-eee for a sharp call to attention, and everything that followed: the call to arms! The rousing of the Alliance! A tour of the galaxy, to find anyone and everyone else in whom the Light could awaken ancient memories! And for the love of X'eeh, why had nobody figured out how to get back to Fairyland with this thing yet, and every warship in the quadrant?!

If I believed in the One Behind, or in any other creator god or gods—I'm not saying I do, but if I did, if there really is something out there all-powerful and all-kind—then it'd be because out of every soul in the entire universe, the probably one in the best position to act on the Elves' message turned out to have, from a past life, two parents and a much-loved twin still in Fairyland. Like, that's insane, right?

I stayed with the Director's ceremonial guards for the whole tour, actually more than ceremonial for once—it was the weirdest mission of my life, and I've been on a lot of weird missions. Or supposedly routine missions that got weird (and usually disastrous). My friends joke that I'm cursed. S,sh requisitioned an Inquiry-class ship, so the science boffins could study the Light and jewel along the way, and we started wormholing at weft speed, hitting a new planet every week. Sometimes every day. In each major spaceport and ground-city, S,sh stood with the jewel on the highest available point and gave a recruitment speech for going to save the Elves and fight the oldest enemy of all reality. 

Honestly, it seemed a little redundant? The Astral Alliance was made for this sort of rescue mission (and for escorting trade convoys). But I was...if not happy, then sure as hell more self-certain with my ancient memories restored, and most people who joined up seemed to agree. It was mostly people who remembered, when exposed to the Light, who joined—so before long, we had a whole tag-along trail of mostly civilian ships, trying to get up to Alliance Fleet standard on the road in less than a year.

Three different religious sects tried to kill S,sh for "profaning the mysteries." Five others tried to steal the jewel because we were apparently appropriating a holy object. The boffins announced that, bar the can't-prove-a-negative possibility, the evidently sourceless Light should be counted as an infinite energy source, and at least seven different groups, ruthless financiers and sustainability idealists, immediately tried to steal it for that. And I still don't know what the rival thief-queens of Likkiliani were about, except that I got tied up upside-down from a palmdar tree for two hours trying to stop one, the other paid me 700 cron then threw me off a cliff, and in the end they recognized each other from past lives and just made out on worldwide live-holo before joining our growing fleet. 

It turned out they were the Director's past life's great-grandparents, and a Canid pop princess was her niece. The Thinker ambassador was some sort of ancestor, too. Crazy extended family. 

Most people who remember just remember the sight of a star in the sky. A buddy of mine from Fleet Academy remembered looking up at it as a Human sailor. The historians—and you’d better bet we picked up some Earther historians on this mission as well!—say this jewel or one like it was probably astrologically conflated with the planet Venus by early Humans.

(The more time I spent around the jewel, the Silmaril, the more I remembered, of my first life and more. Lifetime after lifetime with bad luck dogging my steps, killing loved ones in my arms, destroying cities I was supposed to save… One restless, haunted night, I met a Rigilic in the cafeteria who’d been awake with some of the same nightmares, who’d been my dead older sister once.)

The tour was cut short when word came from the Earth system that there was a black hole growing in the center of their reddening sun. 

No, the sun wasn’t compressing into a black hole millennia ahead of schedule—one had just spontaneously manifested within it, like it’d teleported in. No, not literally—that was impossible. We were pretty sure. No, the sun wasn’t falling into it…somehow. Yet. The black hole was only 17 quectometers wide, but it was growing at an erratic but unceasing rate. If their best estimation of the pattern held, it would consume the sun 2 months before the Elves’ deadline, and the Earth 4 to 950 minutes later.

We pulled back to Earth—well, to the dwarf planet Eros, on the edges of Earth’s star system. That’s where the nearest shipyard of any note was, and we were gathering the whole Astral Alliance. This is exactly the sort of thing the Alliance is for. 

I was released back to ship duty. Zanzibus was still a black mark on my record, as was Jorab, and really everything on the AAS Endeavor…and that thing in third year of Fleet Academy… But no matter how bad my curse, I was an experienced captain and one of the best pilots in the Alliance. For this, we needed all the best.

The boffins had pretty quickly mastered limited manipulation of the Light, using modified aetheric resonators, and every day they came up with something new for us to test. They focused the Light into a laser cannon like no one has seen before. They laced it through plasma shields until a fully shielded ship glowed like a distant star. They managed to nearly replicate the Silmaril’s crystalline structure, so they could make “copies” that shone like the original for first a few hours; then, with refinement, a full week…

The one thing they couldn’t pin down with any real confidence was how to get to Fairyland. The frequency of the Light resonated with large bodies of Earther saltwater in a particular way, and models suggested that if the Light source moved horizontally along the water within a certain range of distance and velocity, the resonance would create a wormhole-like ripple in space—but wormhole-like, was the key word, and models suggested. The closest anyone had seen to that spatial distortion was in a logbook of dubious veracity from the Delta Quadrant, four hundred years ago. Alteia, my Academy buddy who’d been a Human sailor, took the Silmaril in an M-wing on a series of highly monitored test flights above the Atlantic Ocean, and space did repeatedly start to hollow in front of bom—so bo had to stop every time, rather than risk vanishing with our single, maybe-one-way ticket.

Then Earth’s moon stopped shining in the sky. Its albedo just dropped nearly to zero, from one night to the next. There was nothing wrong that anyone could figure out—nothing with the orbit, nothing with the surface rock, nothing with the artificial atmosphere. Inhabitants reported feeling colder by several degrees, but no measuring equipment recorded anything.

The black hole slightly off-center in the middle of Sol was now 844.9 zeptometers, and growing more steadily.

We didn’t have time to keep testing. We needed to raise our swords and make our ride, even if we only got one shot at it.

I was given command, for seniority, skill, and because I was the one who managed to talk S,sh out of leading the fleet herself. (If my lives had taught me anything, it was the importance of having someone, anyone, ready to be emergency backup.) Ironically, I was back on the Endeavor, with most of my old crew—though we got permission to rename the ship, in honor of the mission. A lot of people did. Alteia was now commanding the AAS Elendil on my right flank, star-friend in Ancient Elvish. That Canid pop princess had taken over a hospital ship and renamed it Rivendell. An Earth Park Ranger, of all things, remembered being my dad—briefly—and he was leading the Rangers plus my Rigilic drinking buddy on the EPSS Elfsheen. 

We weren’t sure if any ship but the one with the Silmaril would get through. The fleet numbered in the hundreds in battleships alone, not counting scouts and scuttlers. Twelve races had sent ships on top of their typical Alliance Fleet tithe, and S,sh had brought about half the full force of the X-ee Empire. We all just locked tractor beams and hoped. 

I was piloting as well as captaining, with the Silmaril between my forehorns. It was held in place by about a dozen wires and other connectors to the ship, like an old-timey pilot’s headset. We took off in orbit around Earth, as close as possible to the surface—not very close, in warships of Class S and higher, but within range of the oceanic resonance. A Likkilianian thief-queen stood at my shoulder, ready to advise if anything “Musical” started to happen.

Think about what you’re trying to get to, and why, the boffins had advised, so I did—bright-eyed kings and dancing maidens; lost friends, families, cities, planets and all. The jewel got warmer against my skin and shone brighter with every pulse of the engine, brighter than we should’ve been able to see through.

The silver-gold Light twisted and diffused as space did around us. But there was no familiar rippling wormhole boundary—instead, spacetime thinned to a curtain like driving rain, like Vesarian silver-glass.

A ghost appeared next to me. She looked like the oldest, grumpiest writing teacher at the crèche, though I knew that was only in my head.

“There you are,” she said, impatient and relieved like I’d been hiding in the sandbox again, rather than coming to class on time. Her sewing scissors went snip snip snip as she darted them around my body—and a chain on my soul faded into guiding threads.

Before she’d even disappeared again, I punched the engine and blasted through the silver-glass curtain.

Fairy tales said there’d be a peerlessly beautiful land on the other side, green with eternal spring, full of endless light and laughter. They said there’d be sunlit shores and shimmering waves, with welcoming docks for sea-ships, sky-ships and space-ships all…

We flew into the worst battlefield I’d ever seen, in any lifetime. It was more desperately vicious than Jerusalem V at the height of the Reform Wars, more ruined than Glaurung’s wake, more desolate than Zanzibus after the nuclears fell.

Either a massive supercontinent or a small moon had been shattered, leaving nothing but a roiling debris field. The brand-new meteoroids ranged from pebbles to rocks the size of a small space station, and included space-frozen corpses, forests, and what might have once been city blocks.

I gave the helm back to my Pilot Officer—zer had, I can admit, slightly better reflexes for dodging debris—and focused on captaining.

Most of the life signs were clinging to the larger rocks. There shouldn’t have been atmosphere for them, but walls of thunderstorm wrapped around every shard with even a single life sign—wind and water desperately hand in hand to safeguard the last of the Elves. The only thing visible through the impossible storms was the Light of a second Silmaril, on a meteoroid shaped like half a broken eggshell.

A corpse lay at the epicenter of the explosion—what might’ve been a corpse, if it wasn’t also shattered. The broken pieces of a massive stone humanoid, taller than my ship if it’d stood beside her, still bleeding lava so hot that it burned even in frozen space. Another titan knelt at the shards of its head, a figure of towering bark and leaves, wailing with grief even worse than the end of the world. 

A slimmer tree-woman stood with one hand on her shoulder, comforting, and the other wielding a skyscraper-sized club spiked with incandescent wildflowers. Guarding her sister’s heartbreak, she fended off a swarm of bat-sized monsters with wings of darkness and whips of flame. 

Bat-sized relative to the gods of Elves and ancient Humans. About the size of an M-wing, in flight.

Countless more of the bat-things flung themselves at the storm-bubbles, like carnivores chasing the prey hidden inside. They were fended off by an equal army of creatures with wings of light and swords of lightning, led by a towering figure who seemed to dance from one bloody battle to the next.

The biggest battle by far was the farthest away, over where the sun had been. In this dimension of stories over science, Sol was another woman-shape, smaller than the others but burning just as brightly as her star. Also just as blood-red. The light was centered on a fist she kept clenched at her chest, and instead of containing the black hole, the unseeable thing that it was here surrounded her, striking at her with a thousand hungry jaws and grasping legs, and she had only a one-handed whip of a solar flare to fend it off—

But she didn’t fight alone. A warrior tore at the Darkness’s spidery limbs with his fists, image on the cameras flickering impossibly between every hero I’d ever heard of. A snarling figure bit at it with jagged teeth, gored it with horns, shredded it with claws and talons, and generally made every ancient prey-instinct in me scream. And a queen with a crown of stars, a shield like the night sky and a sword like a streaking comet, stood dauntlessly at the sun-holder’s side. 

With all that, and with the speed of even her most exhausted strikes, I thought the sun-holder could probably have gotten away if she’d tried. But I knew how a person fought when they weren’t willing to leave a friend, and a smaller, silver figure lay at her feet, unmoving and drained of light.

But even the battle for the sun wasn’t what grabbed my eye. No—all my attention, all my guiding threads of fate and the quick temper that always used to get me in trouble, before (and sometimes after) I learned to leash it in an Alliance uniform— All of that took me straight to the fight happening orthogonal to the stone giant’s corpse.

It was another one-versus-many. Morgoth, the First Enemy of Elves and Men— Master of Lies, Maker of Chains, Sonofabitch Curser of Bloodlines—towered over even his fellow gods. His shape changed constantly, sickeningly, but it was always black-armored with eyes like dying stars that hated you personally. His maul dripped with lava and every other kind of blood.

He fought against three great gray figures who moved as one. The tallest wielded a star-studded scythe with swift, efficient strokes, and wore the dark gray of corpse-shrouds. The shortest shimmered with more colors than even a Stamotapadon could dream of, and his weapon shifted likewise. The third was the clear, clean gray of skies after rain or tears run dry, and fought with only a shield—and hit harder with it than either of her brothers.

Around their heads darted the only Elves on the battlefield, in small fliers more like sea-ships than aircraft. But they moved fluidly, pestering the Dark Lord like flies, pricking his skin and threatening his burning eyes.

Until Morgoth swung his maul with a roar of fury that traveled even though soundless space. My ship and heart both shuddered. The gray gods all staggered back, and the Elves fell from the no-longer-sky—all but their leader, more fire than flesh, who wore the third Silmaril. Morgoth caught him in one massive black hand and with sharp claws plucked the jewel away, as easily as a ripe berry from a tree—

“All power to fore-cannon and fire,” I ordered—and the jewel on my brow shone bright again as several stored months’ worth of infinite Silmaril-Light slammed into Morgoth’s chest with all the force that the best scientists in the Astral Alliance could engineer. 

He stumbled. He dropped both the jewel and the elf-king (who’d been trying to bite him). The Lady of Mercy tossed her shield to catch them, staying low and out of sight—though she needn’t have bothered. The so-called “Lord of All” had already found his next enemy.

“All ships, move forward and join shields,” I ordered, and met his burning stare though the viewscreen. “Then broadcast me on all external frequencies.”

The wires on my forehead shimmered as we shifted Light-flow to the shields—and to my right, so did the Elendil, and to my left, the Cosmian Blade, and all around us the Minas Tirith, the Elfsheen, the Muse, the Rivendell, the Heart of Zanzi, the Longbottom Leaf… They were still soaring out of the silvery distortion behind me, tractor- and Silmaril-towed: sleek Rigilic eels-of-prey and Centaurian cruisers full of Humans eager to fight for their homeworld, Betan mine-ships and Canid X-M-wings and my own Hectoan starlighters, a full third of the X-ee navy with their X-eee–shaped six-engine dreadnoughts, and hundreds more. 

“This is Captain Pel Cinia, once Túrin Turambar, of the Astral Alliance ship Gurthang,” I said. My words were broadcast from every ship on every frequency in every language that the people of Arda might know, as the Fleet assembled from forty-plus different worlds flew into position. Our Light-infused shields blazed and locked together, until we formed a seamless wall right in the Enemy’s face, with the Elves and their other allies safely behind us.

I’ve never felt more proud to recite the most cliché line in the Fleet:

“We got your distress call. We’re here to help.”

[how-about-some-more-whump]

Black & White 痞子英雄 (2009) - Whump List

Also known as: Pi zi ying xiong

Synopsis: Wu Ying Xiong (on the left) and Chen Zai Tian (on the right) are two radically different cops. Forced to collaborate on a drug trafficking investigation, their opposing personalities lead to clashes and distrust between them. Monitored and manipulated by organizations with dark agendas, will they be able to put aside their differences and work together?

Notes: Yet again an amazingly whumpy show (just check this list below!) that I never see mentionned anywhere. If you're into bromance, and not too bothered by never-ending plot-twists, then you're in the right place. Just try to ignore the 2000's hairstyles and fashion, and the weird af siblings relationships (well... it's a Taiwanese show... it's to be expected...). Enjoy!

NB: Timestamps might be off (< 1mn) depending on where you watch the show. I do not disclose any character death on purpose. The characters are listed by chronological order of whump in each episode.

------ EPISODE 1 ------

Chen Zai Tian

2:11 Shot at

20:19 Jostled, scared

21:35 Disarmed, at gunpoint (with his own gun lol)

Wu Ying Xiong

7:20 Going undercover

9:37 At gunpoint, tasered, gagging on the ground, searched, wincing in pain, angry, panting

14:12 At gunpoint

17:15 Discovered as un undercover cop, fighting, shot at, running away, more fighting

19:43 Chased, shot at, more fighting, manhandled, shot at more

21:34 At gunpoint, fighting

------ EPISODE 2 ------

Chen Zai Tian

9:10 Handcuffed, manhandled, angry

12:57 Positive drug test, puzzled

47:31 Shot several times in the chest, thrown backwards, unconscious

------ EPISODE 3 ------

Chen Zai Tian

1:33 (Continued from previous ep) Shot several times in the chest, thrown backwards, unconscious

2:48 Startled, heavily breathing, in pain, reveals he was wearing a bulletproof vest, struggling to stand

8:32 At gunpoint

Wu Ying Xiong

2:05 At gunpoint

8:32 At gunpoint

------ EPISODE 4 ------

Wu Ying Xiong

17:59 In a fight, drugged, woozy, unsteady, fighting more

22:45 On the floor, dazed, weak legs

25:15 Still feeling the effects of the drug

Chen Zai Tian

22:51 Shoved

25:13 At gunpoint

48:05 Running after someone, falls, hurts his leg, limping, collapses, wincing in pain, shouting

------ EPISODE 5 ------

Chen Zai Tian

14:48 Sees a friend get shot, scared

16:15 In an interrogation room, considered as a suspect, puzzled

23:17 Interrogated, gun to his head, scared, panting

48:11 Bitten

------ EPISODE 6 ------

Chen Zai Tian

9:52 Shot at

11:50 Shot at (a lot), scared

47:42 Surrounded by a group of men, trying to talk his way out of it, hit and knocked out, abducted

Wu Ying Xiong

9:52 Shot at

11:50 Shot at (a lot), shot

13:19 Wincing and groaning in pain

47:35 Hit on the back of his head, knocked out, abducted

------ EPISODE 7 ------

Chen Zai Tian

2:02 (Continued from previous ep) Unsconscious, tied in the air with his partner, bleeding head injury

4:10 Wincing and moaning in pain

5:35 Wincing in pain

10:35 Still bleeding from his injury, holding a tissue on it

Wu Ying Xiong

2:02 (Continued from previous ep) Unsconscious, tied in the air with his partner, bleeding head injury

4:10 Wincing and moaning in pain, pissed off

25:13 In a fight, laughed at (understandable honestly), taunted, fighting more

27:32 Surrounded

------ EPISODE 8 ------

Wu Ying Xiong

4:45 Feeling sorry, apologizing, slapped

10:08 At gunpoint

43:45 At gunpoint

Chen Zai Tian

10:08 At gunpoint, scared, arms in the air

43:45 At gunpoint

------ EPISODE 9 ------

None.

------ EPISODE 10 ------

Chen Zai Tian

9:40 Blown by an explosion, in shock, inhales smoke

13:17 Sitting on the ground, still in shock, not talking

15:51 Crying

16:20 Still sitting on the ground, drinking, isolating himself, unsteady on his feet, bursts in tears, collapses, grieving

26:13 Helped to walk

42:50 Grieving, sobbing, drunk

Wu Ying Xiong

40:23 Worried for his partner

------ EPISODE 11 ------

Chen Zai Tian

26:01 Drunk, beaten up, lying on a pile of trash, bloody face, angry

30:49 Sobbing, lost, comforted, leaning on his partner, holding onto his partner (Vic Zhou is ACTING here damn)

34:06 Shut down, not talking, not moving

43:45 Crying

48:17 At gunpoint

Wu Ying Xiong

26:54 Worried for his partner

28:00 At gunpoint

36:55 Feeling betrayed, angry

40:51 Done with his partner, pissed

------ EPISODE 12 ------

Chen Zai Tian

1:30 (Continued from previous ep) At gunpoint

Wu Ying Xiong

14:40 (Not whump but… she’s aking the right questions here lol)

------ EPISODE 13 ------

Chen Zai Tian

20:05 Upset, about to throw up, teary eyes, shaking

------ EPISODE 14 ------

Wu Ying Xiong

11:13 Fighting, kicked, disarmed, punched

12:38 Shot at, in a gunfight, attacked with a knife, fighting, outnumbered, chained, beaten up, stabbed, wincing in pain, blurry eyesight, passes out

17:16 Bleeding, holding his wound

------ EPISODE 15 ------

None.

------ EPISODE 16 ------

Wu Ying Xiong

14:59 In a heated argument with his partner

36:40 In shock, heavily breathing, whiping his eyes, shaky voice, repeatedly punched, collapses, about to cry

42:38 Face covered in bruises

Chen Zai Tian

14:59 In a heated argument with his partner

39:00 Holding back tears

------ EPISODE 17 ------

Wu Ying Xiong

1:55 Face still covered in bruises, drunk, tearing up, ashamed

24:30 Drunk, put to sleep, kissed in his sleep

Chen Zai Tian

30:48 Feeling sick, dizzy

------ EPISODE 18 ------

Wu Ying Xiong

31:50 Manipulated (this scene is super damn hot though, this big softie is such an idiot)

46:24 At gunpoint

------ EPISODE 19 ------

Wu Ying Xiong

1:30 Interrogated, wrongfully accused, pissed off

6:03 Suspended from work, holding back tears while saying goodbye to coworkers

9:20 Blaiming himself

18:50 Drinking, coughing, sad :(

------ EPISODE 20 ------

Chen Zai Tian

31:48 Heartbroken

41:49 Furious

Wu Ying Xiong

34:23 Drunk, has been drinking for two days, in disbielief, depressed, heartbroken, crying

48:26 Betrayed, running away

------ EPISODE 21 ------

Wu Ying Xiong

1:31 (Continued from previous ep) Betrayed, running away

8:18 Depressed, drunk

15:18 Sees a friend get shot

27:42 Locked in a basement, suffocating, panicking, collapses

33:00 Unconscious

Chen Zai Tian

32:52 Electrocuted, unconscious, given CPR

34:56 Helped to walk

------ EPISODE 22 ------

Wu Ying Xiong

16:05 In a gunfight, at gunpoint, tearing up, heartbroken, pissed, sees someone he loves get shot, crying

26:36 Grieving, exhausted, sobbing, at breaking point

Chen Zai Tian

36:00 At gunpoint, gun to his head

42:50 Handcuffed

------ EPISODE 23 ------

Chen Zai Tian

19:50 Sees someone get shot in front of him, shocked, at gunpoint, running away, shot at, surrounded, running away

37:32 In a gunfight, out of bullets, shot, passes out

39:45 Sweaty, can't stand on his legs, bleeding

Wu Ying Xiong

27:25 Hands tied behind his back, black sack on his head, threatened, crying

39:24 Fighting while tied up, smacked in the face, falls down

44:47 Shot at

------ EPISODE 24 ------

Wu Ying Xiong

2:05 In a gunfight

13:10 Attacked from behind, disarmed, fighting

15:07 Joining his partner in a fight

Chen Zai Tian

12:05 Disarmed, fighting (more like beaten up but he’s trying, okay?)

14:40 Still getting beaten fighting, spitting blood, struggling to stand up

22:22 In disbelief

___

Head to the WHUMP MASTERLIST for more whump! For more of Vic Zhou (Chen Zai Tian), click here.

[spicycinnabun]

your little rebel 1/2

@tommykinardweek for brat/brat tamer ♡ rated e ♡ read on ao3 ♡ tags: sex toys, sexting at work, d/s, daddy kink, brat!buck, sugaring (more tags tba for pt. 2)

Tommy had finished performing routine maintenance on his bird and was sitting down for a quick lunch break in the hangar. He was just about to bite into his sandwich—pastrami on rye, nothing fancy—when his phone chimed. He dug it out of the pocket of his jumpsuit.

Tommy’s lips quirked when he saw the notification was from Evan. He had the day off. He’d said he was going to go grocery shopping, hit the gym, and then run a few errands. They were planning on seeing each other that night. 

Evan had a key to Tommy’s place. Though they hadn’t moved in together and still spent time at Evan’s loft, Evan seemed to prefer it at Tommy’s. 

Tommy didn’t mind. More than not minded, actually. It made his chest ache to come home to the lights on, warm homey smells, lively chitter-chatter, and someone who’d missed him and was happy to see him. He was trying not to get too used to it.  

Evan was going to cook dinner: chicken parmesan, a recipe of Bobby’s he’d made his own creative tweaks to. 

“I’m calling it chicken plantmesan. You’ll be amazed at how good it tastes,” he’d told Tommy. “You won’t even be able to tell the difference.”

Tommy had mentioned wanting to cut dairy from his diet for a while to see if it’d help with some bloating, and Evan had said he would do it with him. It was sweet, especially since Tommy knew Evan liked dairy products even more than he did. Evan was the guy who told the waiter to keep going when he came by the table with the cheese grater. 

“Bet it won’t taste as good as you,” Tommy had flirted, pitching his voice low on purpose just to see the blush light up Evan’s cheeks. 

Smiling a bit wider at the memory, Tommy put his sandwich down and opened the text. 

Finished my errands early.

Beneath that was an image. Usually, Evan sent him random pictures. Stupid memes, a photo of a stray cat he’d seen during his jog, his breakfast smoothie, Eddie, the rest of the 118 and their daily hijinks. This wasn’t any of those things. 

Tommy stared, a little dizzy, as all the blood in his upper body immediately rushed south. 

It was his bedroom. The shot was taken from a distance, probably from his dresser. Evan was naked on the bed on all fours, long legs spread wide on the mattress. He was down on his elbows, ass up on full display. He was glancing over his shoulder at the camera, heavy-lidded eyes drowsy with pleasure, lips red like he’d been biting them and parted like he was panting. Evidence of how turned on he was hung heavy and visible between his thighs.

But what really caught Tommy’s gaze was what was sitting snugly inside Evan. The flared base of a toy. It was red. The shape of a heart.

Tommy quickly zoomed out (when had he zoomed in?), saved the image to his photos and then deleted it from their conversation, just in case some busybody snuck up behind him without warning. He'd almost forgotten where he was.

He typed out a message with fingers that shook only slightly, heart pounding, mouth dry.

Evan. You know I’m at work.

Evan had never been so bold as to send him something like that while he was on shift. They’d sent dirty texts before; that was nothing new, but this was. 

Couldn’t wait to show you what I bought. 

Sorry, Daddy ❤️

Tommy’s arm slipped, and like an idiot, he knocked over his steaming hot coffee. “Shit!” 

He grabbed the napkins from his lunch pail and quickly mopped up the mess before it reached his keyboard or monitor. He recovered swiftly when one of the other pilots walking by gave him the stink eye.

“You okay, Kinard?”

Tommy nodded, stone-faced. “Fantastic.”

He squeezed the damp napkins in his fist and took a bite of his sandwich to occupy his mouth and seem normal. He obviously wasn’t thinking about the food anymore.

The pilot shrugged, accepting it.

Tommy’s phone buzzed again. He waited until the pilot was gone before picking it back up. “Christ, he’s going to be the death of me,” he muttered. 

You like it though? It has a remote. Thought you might enjoy controlling it.

And now it was time to get out of plain sight before he completely embarrassed himself. Tommy dropped his garbage in the trashcan and walked briskly to the washroom, locking the door behind himself. He leaned against it and tried to maintain his cool before he replied. But he was starting to sweat.

I was wondering what that charge on my card was, he answered.

He was lying. He hadn’t actually checked his statement, but upon looking now, there was one purchase of $59.74 from Cupid’s Closet. 

It had taken some cajoling for Evan to let Tommy buy things for him—little treats, clothes he wanted, toys—especially since he’d been a bit pushy about Evan paying for things at the start of their relationship—but eventually, Evan had given in. He’d even started buying for himself without needing to ask. Evan acted like he didn't deserve any of it, of course, that he didn't need any of it, but Tommy could tell the attention was doing it for him.

Tommy never thought it’d be his thing, but he loved sugaring Evan. It felt nice. Cliché, sure—the whole ‘go ahead, baby, go wild with Daddy’s credit card’ thing—but who cared? Turned out it gave them both joy. Tommy liked spoiling him. Marie Kondo would be proud of Tommy for not throwing that shit away.

Haha, yeah

Tommy could hear the faltering, uncertain gears turning in Evan’s head, so he quickly sent another message. 

I love it. Pretty. Keep it in. But you know the rules, honey. Hands off. Wait for me.

The bubbles started and then stopped. Started and then stopped again. 

I’ll try to…

Evan.

Fine. But you better make it worth my while. 

Tommy smirked. What a brat. 

Keep talking like that, and I’ll leave you all on your lonesome tonight.

This time, Tommy received a selfie of Evan’s exaggerated pout. His cheeks were flushed strawberry pink, his blond curls looking soft and tousled against one of Tommy’s dark green pillows. 

Mean.

Oh, Evan had no idea how mean Tommy was capable of being. 

You have to behave if you want my attention.

Evan’s reply was lightning-fast. Smug.

That’s not how I remember it.

Tommy chuckled as he thought of what had gotten them to this point. Touché.

And I already said I will! Evan continued. …But it feels kind of amazing. 

Tommy sighed, wishing he was home already. 

I bet it does.

♡

A little while later, Tommy received a new text. He made another escape to the washroom with the excuse that he’d drunk too much coffee, feeling like a teenager and not almost forty as he hid from his crew.

This time, it was only a photo of Evan’s naked torso. A close-up of his abs and pecs in all their glory, painted with streaks of translucent white that dripped down muscled valleys. He’d come all over himself. 

All the accompanying text said was Oops.

Tommy exhaled a noisy breath. “Do not get hard at work, jackass.” 

Honestly, he never thought he’d have to scold himself regarding that. 

Tommy put his phone on the edge of the sink, turning on the taps to give his face a quick splash of water. He wiped off with a paper towel, willing his body to cooperate and calm before he texted back.

Guess you don’t need me now, huh, hotshot? I was going to have fun playing with you, but maybe I’ll catch the game on TV instead.

Evan's bubbles started bubbling. They seemed to be moving wilder than usual, somehow. 

It's not like I can’t get it up again. I’m not an old man like someone I know.

Tommy’s brows rose sharply. He almost barked a laugh, but that was just what he needed: people outside thinking he’d lost his fucking marbles. 

There was silence for a few more moments and then a series of dings, each coming quicker than the last. 

Wait

I didn’t really mean it about the old thing

I want to be with you tonight

And your refractory period is remarkable for a man your age!

Tommy snorted. 

Wow, thanks.

I was thinking about you the entire time and how sexy you are and what I want you to do to me when you get here. I just couldn’t control myself.

Next time, I promise I won’t come until you're here and you say so.

Tommy? 

Tommy grinned to himself. He needed to make Evan sweat for a bit. It was all part of the game.

Tommy knew it. He’d played it before with other men, but…

None of them had excited him like this. Not at this level. Not like Evan did. Evan was a little (well, big, muscular, and adorable) firecracker. He was impulsive, curious as hell, and wanted to dive headfirst into all sorts of new situations. He was exploring his kinks and surprising them both with what he was learning he liked. 

Tommy was learning a few things, too. Funny because he thought he’d figured out all there was to know about himself years ago. He guessed even old dogs could learn new tricks.

Evan let Tommy drive and followed every safety precaution—for the most part. Sometimes, he tried to push too hard, too fast. Sometimes, he tried hiding his discomfort to gain Tommy’s approval and wouldn’t yellow or red light. That people pleasing, low self-worth, and fear of rejection clear as day in his every action.

They’d learned that bratting was a tangible way to break out of that mindset, at least a little. Something Evan had never let himself do. Stop trying to be good all the time. A cathartic release to say no, go against the rules, be bad, and take what he wanted. In a healthier way than maiming his best friend, of course.

But Tommy didn’t push too far in his punishments. There was only so much Evan could handle. Tommy was careful with his limits.

And… well, he felt too much goddamn affection for the kid to be as cold as he had been with previous partners. That side of him just wasn’t meant for Evan.

You’re still in trouble. 

Tommy let that sit for a minute before sending a final message.

I’ll be home soon, sweetheart. You can make it up to me.

He chuckled at the litany of heart emojis he received approximately five seconds later. Oh, cute.

[fratttymatty]

Bro, It's Haunted

(All characters are 18+)

It was the perfect night for a paranormal investigation. The kind of night when a full moon hung low in the sky, casting eerie shadows on dilapidated buildings, and the air was thick with the smell of old dust and mystery. A group of nine friends—paranormal investigators and self-proclaimed nerds—had been itching for their latest adventure. They weren’t just any nerdy crew; they were a tight-knit group of gay, liberal, and openly eccentric thirty-year-olds. They had faced haunted dolls, cursed objects, and even poltergeists. But tonight’s location was a bit… different.

The Alpha Sigma Pi frat house, once the pride of their small college town, had been abandoned for years. No one had lived there in at least a decade, and rumors about the place circulated like wildfire. No one dared go near it anymore—except for the team, of course.

The nine of them gathered in the parking lot, adjusting their equipment and checking the cameras on their phones. There was Nate, the confident team leader with a deep love for horror movies and a perpetual dark hoodie; Jesse, the sarcastic and dry-witted one, constantly cracking jokes but deeply sentimental when it counted; Finn, the tech genius who could hack anything and had a fascination with all things supernatural; Liam, the sensitive one, who was always the first to believe in things like ghosts and spirits; Ollie, the curious but quiet skeptic who had a soft spot for astrology; and then there was the rest of the crew—Emory, Miles, Theo, and Xavier—each one an essential part of the quirky, nerdy ensemble.

They stood in front of the house, which loomed like a forgotten monument to a time long past. The windows were boarded up, the paint peeling, and a thick fog curled around the crumbling structure.

“Alright, so the legends say this place is haunted by the spirits of the worst kind of frat boys—those who never grew up and are stuck in the 'glory days' of their youth,” Finn said, adjusting the strap on his backpack, filled with ghost-hunting equipment.

“Yikes,” Liam muttered. “Not looking forward to meeting that kind of energy.”

"Eh, at least we won’t have to deal with them 'till we're dead and rotting," Ollie quipped, eyes scanning the dark silhouette of the house.

The team filed into the front door, which creaked open easily, as if welcoming them in. The inside of the house was just as abandoned as it looked on the outside—empty beer cans, broken furniture, and posters of former college athletes lined the walls. It smelled like stale alcohol and faded memories.

“This place is definitely haunted,” Jesse muttered under his breath, looking around. "Either that, or these are the vibes of my worst nightmare."

“Let’s get to work,” Nate said, trying to focus the team. “We’ll split up. Emory, you and I will check the basement. Theo, Jesse, check the upper floors. Finn, Liam, and Xavier, you’re with me on the ground level. Ollie, you’re on monitoring. Keep an eye on the cameras.”

Everyone nodded in agreement, and the investigation began. At first, nothing seemed out of the ordinary. They set up their cameras, EVP recorders, and motion sensors. Every now and then, a strange creak echoed through the house, but that was hardly enough to draw anyone’s attention—until it started happening.

The first person to notice was Theo. He stood frozen in the hallway, staring at an old photograph hanging crookedly on the wall.

“Uh, guys,” he said slowly, “this picture looks weird.”

The photograph was of a group of young men, all smiling proudly in front of the house. But as Theo looked closer, the faces seemed to shift, almost imperceptibly, until the men no longer looked like their college-aged selves.

"Did… did those guys just move?" Theo whispered, voice quivering slightly.

Finn rushed over, but by the time he reached the wall, the image was still and normal. Nothing had changed.

“Bro, you good?” Jesse asked, clearly trying to joke, but something in his tone felt off. “Just a picture. Maybe you’re seeing things.”

It wasn’t until the lights flickered that the first real sign something was wrong occurred. The house itself seemed to breathe, the walls exhaling in a slow, deliberate shudder.

Suddenly, a wave of nausea hit them all at once.

“I feel dizzy…” Liam said, his hand reaching to steady himself against a doorframe.

“I’m good,” Jesse muttered, “but I swear I’m too good.” He let out a low laugh, as though something was tickling his brain, but not quite reaching the punchline.

Then things got… stranger.

One by one, the group started to change. At first, it was subtle—nothing more than a shift in posture, or the way their voices sounded. But soon, their bodies began to morph, skin tightening, muscle mass increasing, faces becoming more angular and chiseled. Their clothes felt tighter, their jeans more fitted—though most of them couldn’t quite put their finger on why.

"Hey, bro, I feel kinda… strong all of a sudden," Miles said, flexing his bicep absentmindedly. “Like, I wanna, I dunno, lift something heavy. Bro things.”

“Bro?” Jesse blinked, his voice coming out in a deeper tone. His hand shot out to slap Miles on the back, but instead of the usual playful gesture, it was almost an aggressive, over-the-top bro hug. “Yeah, man! Let’s get that pump going.”

“I… I don’t know what’s going on…” Theo’s voice trailed off. He ran a hand through his hair—hair that was suddenly much thicker and styled differently. He felt the front of his shirt and blinked as if waking up from a strange dream. “What the hell? Why am I—?”

“It’s the house,” Nate said slowly, his own voice shifting into a more gravelly, assured tone. He glanced around at his friends, realizing, with growing panic, that they weren’t the same people they’d been an hour ago. “We’ve been taken.”

Finn turned around in disbelief, his fingers instinctively adjusting the collar of his polo. “Nah, man. I feel good. Like, really good. Like, I’m the king of this house or something.”

The transformations continued—tighter jeans, broader shoulders, more swagger in their steps. Their personalities were shifting too, as if something in the house was rewriting their identities. The sarcastic and clever remarks gave way to cruder jokes, and deep thoughts were replaced with loud cheers about football and frat parties.

By the time they had all fully transformed, they stood before one another—completely unrecognizable from who they’d once been. Their names had changed too, though they couldn't remember exactly how or when.

Nate was now "Chad," Jesse was “Brock,” Theo was “Kyle,” Finn became “Tyler,” Liam became “Brad,” Ollie was “Zach,” Miles was “Jake,” Emory was “Ryan,” and Xavier was “Max.” They looked at each other in confusion—before bursting into raucous laughter.

“Bro, this is sick!” Chad (formerly Nate) shouted. “I feel so… alive, you know? Like, we’re living in the moment, man!”

“I dunno about you guys, but I love being 21 again,” Brock (Jesse) chimed in, punching Kyle (Theo) on the shoulder with a laugh. “This is what life’s all about, man! Football, parties, and, like, grilling stuff, y’know?”

They all laughed again. They had no memory of their past selves—no interest in returning to who they once were. The house had changed them, and now they belonged here, in their new lives.

“Who needs ghosts?” Max (Xavier) added with a chuckle, slapping a high five with Zach (Ollie). “We’re the real menace now, bros.”

And so, the abandoned frat house stood—alive, buzzing with energy as its new inhabitants reveled in their transformation. The doors closed behind them with a final, definitive slam, and the house hummed as if content, its newest bro occupants already planning the next big party.

The Spellsisters were a tight-knit group of ten liberal, nerdy, 28-year-old paranormal investigators who prided themselves on their intellect, critical thinking, and love of all things supernatural. But when they stepped foot into the abandoned Delta Kappa Omega sorority house, they had no idea they were about to face something that would completely change them.

The team consisted of:

Cassidy – The level-headed leader, calm and collected, always keeping the group grounded.

Lana – The intuitive one, deeply attuned to spiritual energy and the vibes of any place.

Sierra – The techie, always with gadgets in hand, trying to find logical explanations for everything.

Ella – The free-spirited dreamer, often lost in mystical thoughts, fascinated by energy fields.

Bailey – The pragmatic skeptic, always on the lookout for rational explanations for the unexplained.

Tessa – The tarot card reader with a sharp wit and a skeptical edge, always questioning the unknown.

Zoey – The empathetic one, sensitive to emotional energies and trying to understand the deeper forces at play.

Emilia – The witch-in-training, passionate about crystals, herbs, and mystical rituals.

Riley – The scientist, logical to the core, though secretly intrigued by the supernatural.

Morgan – The dramatic one with an epic flair for storytelling and a surprisingly deep intuition.

They had come to investigate the Delta Kappa Omega house, a once-vibrant sorority that had long been abandoned and was rumored to be haunted by the spirits of its former sisters. Now, as the house lay in ruins, they were determined to uncover the truth.

"This place is... heavy," Cassidy said as the group stood before the house, the old, dilapidated structure looming before them. "It feels like it's holding onto something... dark."

"Yeah, dark energy," Sierra muttered, fiddling with a device meant to detect electromagnetic fields. "This place is off."

“I don’t like it,” Bailey added, scanning the area with a frown. “It’s like something’s watching us.”

“Well, we came here for answers, not to get freaked out,” Lana said, looking up at the house with determination. “Let’s do this.”

As they entered the house, the air felt charged with an unnatural energy. Dust swirled in the air like a ghostly mist, and remnants of the sorority’s past—old furniture, faded photographs, and posters of smiling young women—lined the walls, now decaying with age.

“I’ve got a bad feeling about this,” Zoey murmured as she stepped cautiously into the living room. “The vibes here are… weird.”

“Well, whatever it is, we need to figure it out,” Cassidy said firmly, taking charge. “Let’s split up, cover more ground. Stay in contact. If you sense anything… strange, let me know.”

The group split into smaller teams: Cassidy and Riley headed for the kitchen to investigate, while Zoey, Tessa, and Morgan set up their base in the living room. Lana, Sierra, and Emilia went to the attic, where the coldest, most oppressive energy seemed to gather.

It didn’t take long before something went terribly wrong.

The house began to hum, an eerie vibration that rattled the walls. A heavy, oppressive feeling filled the air, and a sudden dizziness struck all of them, as if the house itself were rearranging their minds.

“Something’s not right,” Cassidy said, gripping the edge of the kitchen counter to steady herself.

"I—I feel weird..." Bailey said, her voice trailing off. She glanced down at herself and froze, blinking rapidly. Her loose, comfortable jeans and hoodie had been replaced with a form-fitting, trendy crop top and high-waisted shorts. She was now, suddenly, perfectly toned—her stomach flat and abs defined. She ran her hands through her hair. "Wait, what the hell just happened?"

Cassidy looked at herself in the same reflection—her shirt was now tight, and her body had shifted in ways she couldn’t explain. Her once wild hair was now perfectly styled, and her makeup—subtle yet flawless—somehow appeared. “Is this… real?”

“What’s happening?” Riley asked, tugging at her jacket. It now clung to her body in a way that was completely foreign to her. Her voice, once confident and logical, now had a higher pitch, more energy, and a certain tone to it. She caught sight of her reflection in a broken mirror. Her jeans were now tight and trendy, her hair styled in soft waves. "I look… good."

Lana, standing near the window, twirled a lock of hair and glanced at herself in disbelief. Her long hair had become voluminous waves, framing her face in a way that made her appear effortlessly glamorous. Her baggy clothes were gone, replaced by tight pants and heels that somehow made sense. "Oh my god, I look amazing," she said, flashing a grin at the others.

"Okay, I’m freaking out," Sierra said, now feeling herself. Her hoodie was gone, replaced with a fitted jacket that hugged her body, accentuating her curves. Her hair was styled with perfect volume, and her usual intellectual focus had been replaced by something a little... lighter. “I look, like, totally different. And I kind of love it."

“I don’t know about you guys,” Zoey added, glancing down at her now-bodycon dress, “but, like, I’m feeling myself right now. Like, I could totally get used to this."

“What is going on with us?” Tessa asked, her voice oddly high-pitched and bubbly now. She fidgeted with her hair, which had grown shinier, thicker. "Like, I’m literally glowing right now. What happened to us?”

"I—I don’t even care," Bailey said with a shrug, her voice now more carefree than before. "I’m, like, so over the ghost stuff. I feel hot."

Cassidy, the former leader, stood still, her hands on her hips. Her old, rational thoughts slipped away, and a strange new energy surged inside her. “Honestly? I’m kind of digging this whole vibe. I feel like we should just go out and party. We can figure out the ghosts later.”

“That’s what I’m saying!” Tessa laughed, flipping her hair dramatically. “Why deal with spooky stuff when we could be living our best life? I’m, like, ready for a night out.”

“I need, like, so many more outfits,” Zoey giggled, now twirling in the middle of the room. “I’m obsessed with how cute I look!”

Lana spun to face the group, her attitude completely transformed. “Let’s hit up a frat party. I need some attention, and I’m ready for it.”

“I’m like, so ready for this,” Sierra added with a wide, confident grin, brushing her hands through her hair. “We’re totally in charge now.”

Each of the Spellsisters had undergone a full transformation—not just physically, but mentally, as well. Gone were the curious, thoughtful, and empowered women who had walked into the house. In their place stood something else entirely: young, fashionable, superficial versions of themselves, obsessed with parties, boys, and their looks. They were no longer concerned with the supernatural or solving any paranormal mysteries.

Their names had changed along with everything else:

Cassidy became Carmen – the bubbly, fashion-obsessed, carefree girl who only cared about herself and looking perfect.

Bailey became Brianna – the ditzy, energetic girl who was all about fun, partying, and catching attention.

Zoey became Zara – a sparkling, happy-go-lucky girl obsessed with shopping, boys, and being the life of the party.

Tessa became Tiffany – the fun-loving, ditzy girl who lived for drama and self-love.

Lana became Kylie – the confident, flirtatious sorority girl who was always the center of attention.

Sierra became Sienna – the outgoing, trendy girl who always knew what was in style.

Ella became Ellie – the ditzy girl who cared only about getting Instagram selfies and looking cute.

Emilia became Mia – the fashionable, self-centered girl who only thought about herself and her future popularity.

Riley became Riley (yes, Riley kept her name, but now her personality was transformed into that of a carefree, boy-crazy party girl).

Morgan became Madison – the dramatic, always-the-center-of-attention girl who thrived on admiration.

The house had claimed them, and they no longer cared about ghosts, spirits, or mysteries. They were new people, and they were loving their new lives of shopping, partying, and social media fame.

“Ugh, I need a cocktail,” Kylie said, tossing her hair over her shoulder. “Let’s go hit up a party or something. Who even cares about ghosts anymore?”

And just like that, the Spellsisters were gone. In their place, new, ditzy, party-obsessed sorority girls had emerged. They were more than happy to leave the house’s haunted mysteries behind and step into their new lives.

After a strange, eerie night spent in the haunted Delta Kappa Omega house, the Spellsisters had transformed into something completely different. Gone were the intellectual, nerdy women who had entered the house. In their place were confident, party-obsessed, fashionable girls—completely unconcerned with the ghosts or the mysteries they came to uncover.

At the same time, across town, the former paranormal investigator guys—the Bro Hunters—had undergone a similar transformation in the Delta Kappa Omega’s brother house, Alpha Sigma Pi. Just as the Spellsisters had been turned into bubbly sorority girls, the guys had turned into frat boys—cocky, straight, and eager to hit the nearest party scene.

Cassidy, now Carmen, stood outside the Delta Kappa Omega house, looking up at the massive structure, her perfectly styled hair fluttering in the breeze. She twirled her keys in her hand, glancing down at her new, super-cute outfit—a tight crop top and high-waisted shorts that accentuated her toned body.

“God, I look so good right now,” she muttered to herself, checking her reflection in the window. “I’m literally going to make all the boys fall for me.”

“Carmen! You look like a snack,” Zoey—now Zara—called from across the street. She was leaning against a car, her eyes covered by oversized sunglasses despite the fact that it was nearing dusk. “Like, I swear, you’re hotter than anyone on Instagram.”

“Oh, stop,” Carmen giggled, flipping her hair. “But, like, you’re right.”

“You know what we need to do tonight?” Zara said, a mischievous grin crossing her face. “We need to party, girl. And I know just the place.”

Across the street, a group of frat boys were walking out of Alpha Sigma Pi’s mansion, all loud, cocky, and looking for their next big adventure. Among them were Jax, Max, Zane, Derrick, and Brock—each of them now fully immersed in their frat boy personas, with names to match their new identities.

“Oh, hell yeah, tonight’s gonna be lit,” Jax—formerly Jake—said, his grin wide and confident as he checked out his reflection in the nearby window. His frat brothers—Max, Zane, Derrick, and Brock—flanked him, all dressed in the tightest, most stylish clothes that fit the frat look perfectly.

“We’re gonna own this town,” Zane said, flexing his muscles and striking a pose. “The best party in town? It’s gonna be at our place.”

Brock slapped Zane on the back. “Dude, I don’t know about you, but I’m ready to get some attention tonight. Some real attention.”

“Well, we’re gonna get more than attention,” Max added, cracking his knuckles. “I’m thinking we’ll get ourselves some new girlfriends tonight.”

Just as the frat boys approached their cars, they saw a group of girls walking down the street toward them—Carmen, Zara, and the rest of the new “Spellsisters,” all of them laughing and chatting, their heels clicking against the pavement.

Brock’s eyes immediately locked onto Carmen. “Damn,” he muttered under his breath. “She’s fire.”

“Yo, check it out,” Zane said, pointing at Zara. “She looks like she’s ready for some fun.”

“Hell yeah,” Max said with a grin. “Looks like we’re not the only ones looking to have a good time tonight.”

“Yo, ladies!” Jax called out, flashing a confident smile. “You girls lookin’ to party or what?”

Carmen turned around at the sound of Jax’s voice, and her eyes immediately scanned the group of guys. She felt an overwhelming rush of energy, her pulse quickening. This was it—this was exactly the kind of attention she craved. “Uh, yeah, we’re looking for a good time,” she said, flipping her hair back with an exaggerated flourish. “What’s your deal?”

“Oh, we’re definitely looking for some fun,” Jax replied, stepping closer. His new, cocky swagger was undeniable, and Carmen could feel the electricity between them. “I’m Jax, and this is Max, Zane, Derrick, and Brock. We were just about to hit up a party at the frat house. You down?”

“We’re totally down,” Zara chimed in, flashing a sweet smile that had a hint of mischief. “I’m Zara, and this is Carmen, Ella, Tessa, and Sienna.” She winked at Jax. “We know how to party, trust me.”

“Well, that’s what I like to hear,” Jax grinned, his eyes scanning her body. “You sure you can handle us?”

“I can handle anything,” Zara replied, crossing her arms confidently. “And you guys look like you could use some serious attention.”

Brock stepped forward, grinning. “I don’t know about you, but I’m ready to make this night unforgettable. Let’s make sure you get the full frat boy experience.”

The Spellsisters and the frat boys laughed together, the instant chemistry between them undeniable. With every word exchanged, the former nerds and introverts grew more confident, their carefree personalities fully taking over.

As the night went on, they moved into the frat house, music blasting and the sound of laughter and chatter filling the air. Carmen was inseparable from Jax, Zara kept flirting with Max, and Sienna couldn’t seem to get enough of Brock. Tessa and Derrick were in the corner, gossiping and laughing about their latest party experiences, while Ella and Zane were dancing together, their chemistry undeniable.

“I’ve never had more fun in my life,” Carmen whispered to Jax as they sipped drinks and stood near the dance floor. “Like, why would I ever go back to my old life?”

“You don’t need to,” Jax replied, his arm casually draped around her waist. “We’ve got everything we need right here. Who needs the paranormal when we can have real fun?”

“Exactly,” Carmen said, leaning in to kiss him on the cheek. “Who needs the ghosts?”

And in that moment, it became clear—both the Spellsisters and the frat boys had left behind their old, nerdy selves. They were no longer investigators or skeptics; they were now young, fun, and living for the moment. The ghosts that once haunted the Delta Kappa Omega house? Well, they were just part of the past. What mattered now was the party, the attention, and the fun of their new, carefree lives.

And, of course, there was a whole lot of dating going on—because in this new world, the only thing they cared about was each other, the fun they were having, and their new, exciting, drama-filled lives.

(From row 4, 2, 1 left to right, Brock, Zach, Ryan, Tyler, Max, Jake, Kyle, Chad, Brad.)

(From row 4, 3, 2, 1 left to right, Sienna, Zara, Tiffany, Brianna, Ellie, Kylie, Riley, Madison, Carmen, Mia.)