#Seamless Ordering Process

[eatossolutions]

Order Food Using AI: The Key to Boosting Restaurant Revenue

Technology might be the ace in the competitive world of restaurants. One of the most interesting new developments is using artificial intelligence in ordering food. Integrate AI into the ordering system of your restaurant, and owners will definitely raise their revenues significantly, increase customer satisfaction, and even achieve operational efficiency. Here's how systems that let customers order food using AI can revolutionize your business.

1. Customer Experience

Personalized Recommendations

AI-driven systems can use customer data to make personalized food recommendations. Since AI knows about your previous orders and food preferences, it could very well suggest dishes that would cater to your taste buds. Not only will such personalization enrich the dining experience, but it could also be used for the possibility of upselling or cross-selling for more revenue generation.

Seamless Ordering Process

AI simplifies ordering through intuitive interfaces and voice-activated systems. This fast, easy ordering minimizes customer wait time, thus improving customer satisfaction. A smooth ordering experience will motivate repeat business and more frequent customer visits.

2. Higher Accuracy of Orders

Reduces Human Error:

Manual order-taking is prone to mistakes, which leaves customers unsatisfied and rips the business of money. AI systems reduce these mistakes with accurate order-taking and capturing every detail. With this, there will be reduced mistakes and more satisfaction among customers since the orders are made according to their desires.

Real-Time Updates

It allows for real-time order status updates to be provided to the customers right from food preparation to delivery. This kind of transparency will help in building trust while keeping customers updated on any orders placed by them. Such features reduce the number of inquiries and, hence, improve the experience.

3. Streamlined Operations

Order Management Efficiency

High volumes of orders can be processed quickly because AI manages orders using automatic systems that set priorities and allow proper organization. This ensures that the orders are out quickly and reduces the volume of staff, so there is more time to offer great service.

Streamlining Kitchen Workflow

The AI systems can also be integrated with the kitchen display systems so that the preparation is done in an orderly and time-saving manner. Orders are communicated directly to the kitchen, where they are streamlined and managed in a very organized way. This would reduce the preparation time and help in delivering the dishes faster and on time.

4. Increasing Revenue through Upselling

Intelligent Upsell

It can further gauge customer data to identify opportunities for upselling. For instance, if a customer has ordered a main course, AI will offer the best-matching sides or beverages. Intelligent upselling increases the average order value and maximizes revenues from each customer.

Targeted Promotions

AI can provide personalized promotions to customers as per the trends in behavior and ordering history. This step can incentivize repeat business and higher sales with special offers or discounts for repeat customers. AI-driven promotions are more effective since they are attuned to the preferences of individual customers.

5. Harnessing Information to Drive Strategy

Analyzing Trends from Customers

AI systems provide very useful insights into customer behavior and ordering patterns. Therefore, restaurant owners can analyze trends in this data to come up with informed decisions on menu changes, pricing strategies, and marketing efforts. Understanding customer preference helps in crafting strategies that drive growth.

Forecasting Demand

AI can project from past data and trend analysis, which helps with inventory management, employee scheduling, and optimal resource allocation. If demand can be forecasted accurately, then a restaurant is well geared up in advance for those busy times of the day when demand will be high enough to maximize revenues from your restaurant.

6. Improvement in Marketing Efforts

Data-driven Marketing Campaigns

AI will help you in segmentation and the creation of focused marketing campaigns. AI, knowing customers' preferences and behavior, makes it easier to draft personalized marketing messages that appeal most to your target audience. These campaigns are thus very effective in generating maximum traffic and increasing sales.

Social Media Integration

It can also be managed using AI tools and post-scheduling to analyze the interaction and engagement of social media. Ensure that your restaurant remains very lively on social media to hook more new customers and keep existing ones engaged. Relevance and visibility from social media integration with AI means increased interest in your restaurant.

7. Customer Retention Improvement

Loyalty Programs

AI may optimize reward programs by understanding the behavior of each customer and making personalized offers. When rewards are individually tailored to a diner's preference, he or she will likely come again and again, ensuring long-term loyalty. A good loyalty program would indeed transform diners into regular customers.

Seeking Feedback and Improvement

AI can collect and analyze customer feedback to point out their areas of improvement. It helps in understanding the level of customer satisfaction and solving their problems effectively improving service quality and maintaining a good reputation. With an emphasis on continuous improvement according to the feedback, it improves the dining experience overall.

Conclusion: Make Your Restaurant Thrive with AI

Ordering with AI isn't another fad; it is how your restaurant will increase its revenues and efficiency. From improving the customer experience and increasing order accuracy and smoothing operations to harnessing data, AI holds immense potential for changing how your restaurant functions and excels in a saturated market.

Explore AI-driven food ordering solutions available at eatOS for a whole new scale of growth and profitability opportunities. Make that bright future of restaurant management come through; let it start with AI! Book a demo now with us to learn more. 

[thoughtportal]

Opinion Here’s how to get free Paxlovid as many times as you need it

When the public health emergency around covid-19 ended, vaccines and treatments became commercial products, meaning companies could charge for them as they do other pharmaceuticals. Paxlovid, the highly effective antiviral pill that can prevent covid from becoming severe, now has a list price of nearly $1,400 for a five-day treatment course.

Thanks to an innovative agreement between the Biden administration and the drug’s manufacturer, Pfizer, Americans can still access the medication free or at very low cost through a program called Paxcess. The problem is that too few people — including pharmacists — are aware of it.

I learned of Paxcess only after readers wrote that pharmacies were charging them hundreds of dollars — or even the full list price — to fill their Paxlovid prescription. This shouldn’t be happening. A representative from Pfizer, which runs the program, explained to me that patients on Medicare and Medicaid or who are uninsured should get free Paxlovid. They need to sign up by going to paxlovid.iassist.com or by calling 877-219-7225. “We wanted to make enrollment as easy and as quick as possible,” the representative said.

Indeed, the process is straightforward. I clicked through the web form myself, and there are only three sets of information required. Patients first enter their name, date of birth and address. They then input their prescriber’s name and address and select their insurance type.

All this should take less than five minutes and can be done at home or at the pharmacy. A physician or pharmacist can fill it out on behalf of the patient, too. Importantly, this form does not ask for medical history, proof of a positive coronavirus test, income verification, citizenship status or other potentially sensitive and time-consuming information.

But there is one key requirement people need to be aware of: Patients must have a prescription for Paxlovid to start the enrollment process. It is not possible to pre-enroll. (Though, in a sense, people on Medicare or Medicaid are already pre-enrolled.)

Once the questionnaire is complete, the website generates a voucher within seconds. People can print it or email it themselves, and then they can exchange it for a free course of Paxlovid at most pharmacies.

Pfizer’s representative tells me that more than 57,000 pharmacies are contracted to participate in this program, including major chain drugstores such as CVS and Walgreens and large retail chains such as Walmart, Kroger and Costco. For those unable to go in person, a mail-order option is available, too.

The program works a little differently for patients with commercial insurance. Some insurance plans already cover Paxlovid without a co-pay. Anyone who is told there will be a charge should sign up for Paxcess, which would further bring down their co-pay and might even cover the entire cost.

Several readers have attested that Paxcess’s process was fast and seamless. I was also glad to learn that there is basically no limit to the number of times someone could use it. A person who contracts the coronavirus three times in a year could access Paxlovid free or at low cost each time.

Unfortunately, readers informed me of one major glitch: Though the Paxcess voucher is honored when presented, some pharmacies are not offering the program proactively. As a result, many patients are still being charged high co-pays even if they could have gotten the medication at no cost.

This is incredibly frustrating. However, after interviewing multiple people involved in the process, including representatives of major pharmacy chains and Biden administration officials, I believe everyone is sincere in trying to make things right. As we saw in the early days of the coronavirus vaccine rollout, it’s hard to get a new program off the ground. Policies that look good on paper run into multiple barriers during implementation.

Those involved are actively identifying and addressing these problems. For instance, a Walgreens representative explained to me that in addition to educating pharmacists and pharmacy techs about the program, the company learned it also had to make system changes to account for a different workflow. Normally, when pharmacists process a prescription, they inform patients of the co-pay and dispense the medication. But with Paxlovid, the system needs to stop them if there is a co-pay, so they can prompt patients to sign up for Paxcess.

Here is where patients and consumers must take a proactive role. That might not feel fair; after all, if someone is ill, people expect that the system will work to help them. But that’s not our reality. While pharmacies work to fix their system glitches, patients need to be their own best advocates. That means signing up for Paxcess as soon as they receive a Paxlovid prescription and helping spread the word so that others can get the antiviral at little or no cost, too.

{source}

[syncerize]

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[blood-smiles]

If you don't mind, can we eat Briar's ass?

I mean. He is all yours!

stuff a gag in his mouth though, that bitch is LOUD.

NSFW UNDER CUT!!

his large, thick thighs trembled around your head, momentarily making you wonder if he was going to collapse. His tail wagged like a dog despite being a completely different species.

You spread his ass open, the delicate ring of muscle clenching around nothing, his bottom lip trembled, Briar was on the edge of tears. He wanted you so bad, he wanted to let you know all the filthy things he wants to be done to him— but when he opened his mouth only soft sighs and nonsense came out. His stupid brain really was turning to mush in your hands.

“Y—Yes! Yes! Just like that— Make mommy cum!! KiAHh~!”

Your tongue entered his ass, the warm muscle inside him feeling so strange but.. so right. Briar rolled his hips on your tongue, a shuddering moan leaving his swollen lips as your pink appendage prodded inside his tense hole.

Slick seeped out from his drooling pussy, smearing across your chin, his clit trembling at the intense pleasure, his dick twitching between his thighs. His large hand trembled as he tried to cover his mouth, just barely doing the job, well— that was before your dainty digits entered his wet cavern, the insertion seamless as his grool eased the process.

The human cow screamed, not knowing how to respond to all these sources of pleasure. Your tongue fervently drilled into his rectum, fingers working skillfully inside his other tight hole.

he whined impatiently, forcing himself to not take what he wanted out of respect for your orders— He couldn’t take it!! He was so close that stars swam in his vision, his womb felt filled up as you stuffed a third finger inside him, soon followed my a fourth.

your thumb rubbed circles on his sensitive bean, rubbing the not so little bundle of nerves, creating a cold feeling to spread over his nub.

pre cum dribbled down his useless cock, pearls traveling down his monstrous length, polling around the base of his dick and balls. The organ slapped against the skin below your chin, making him whimper pathetically at the sensation of his dick being lightly spanked.

his guts tightened, a tension beginning to form in his lower stomach, slowly beginning to feel like a bloated balloon, about to pop.

then it did indeed pop. He felt a liquid begin to rush out his pussy like the wild torrent of a broken well, large bubbles of tears left his blue eyes, pupils dilated so much that the cerulean shade of his blue iris was barely visible. The unmistakable feeling of warmth dribbled down his chest, hardened nipples the substance drizzling on your skin and wasted on the floor.

he came into your mouth, his legs wrapping around your head as he both squirted and ejaculated all over you. A long drawled out scream left his throat, his tail straightened out along with his spine, his back arching like a drawn bow.

“AAnnnhhHH— FuuuuUuuCk!!”

he cried and cried, tears wouldn’t stop falling from his eyes as his orgasm began to ease. It felt too good, he wondered if he had accidentally peed in your mouth— But it felt so different than something as simple as that, his chest heaved with exhaustion, his hands brushing away some blonde and brunette strands sticking to his skin.

He wobbled off of you, his thighs still painted in water like fluid, stomach ruined with his own cum. He brought a hand to your face, with some of his saliva he wiped his juices off the corner of your mouth, pecking your nose with tenderness as he settled down beside you, tucking you into his chest and taking a well deserved nap next to his beloved darling.

“I love you, my baby..” he murmured with a loving smile, drifting into a quiet sleep.

[eclipseberrycake]

Poly! MoonBerryCake x Reader Pt. 7

AN: The long awaited part 7. Before anyone fears, no this isn't the end of the series don't you worry. I don't have many ideas for the next few parts, but I'm sure I'll think of something or one of you can help!

Also how do we feel about giving Reader a tail? /gen I have a few ideas I've been toying with with reader having a tail, but I don't want to cross the line between too self indulgent and reflecting of my character, rather than trying to be as inclusive as possible.

-> Part One -> Part Two -> Part Three -> Part Four -> Part Five -> Part Six -> Part Six 1/2

Warnings: Depictions of past trauma/ injury, past depictions of being turned into a Twisted/ seeing a loved one as a twisted/ recovering from being a Twisted, mentions of vomit, past depictions of losing a lost one, talk of scars (In a positive light, but just in case!)

☁ The first few nights were hard. So, so incredibly hard. Not by any fault of your own, oh absolutely not, but that didn't make the nights any less taxing or offer them anymore rest.

☁ There were a few times you offered tearfully to sleep in your old room so they could hopefully get some rest, each one shot down with a stern No'. The mere thought of having you out of their line of sight was more than their nerves could take, especially somewhere where they couldn't reach immediately? Hard Pass.

☁ The first night was by far the worst. Cosmo can't say he really remembers recovering from being a twisted, but there was one thing that stuck out for him during the entire process. And that was you. You were there the entire time, gently pressing cool cloths to his forehead, helping him sip water, even keeping saltine crackers on hand in case his temporarily fickle stomach decided that food was somewhat acceptable.

☁ You were the same with Astro and Sprout as well, ensuring the recovery, as awful as it was, was still as seamless as you could make it. If there was one thing he did remember about healing from being a twisted, is that he would never wish it upon another being. Much less you.

☁ The first night you're returned, you're rushed to med-bay as a flurry of commotion happens. Those left behind are eager to see if you've been returned, especially poor Toodles who took your turning hard. She's holding Blu when they rush past, tears in her large eyes, but Rodger is quick to turn her away.

☁ Sprout is already barking orders with Ginger meeting them halfway, first aid kit in hand. They had given you minimal attention in the ride up, but they didn't have the time, space or resources necessary to give you proper medical attention.

☁ It's a flurry of action that follows right after. Astro stays up by your head, wiping the ichor that stained your mouth and clumped your fur. His cheeks are shiny as he does it, shaking his head every now and then before continuing his actions.

☁ Cosmo barely remembers all he did that night, there was so much that needed done. That wound you had received from-...From when you turned into a twisted had never closed, the excess ichor from being a twisted keeping you alive. It was an awful, horrid thought, but not one they could ignore as Cosmo hurriedly worked alongside his cousin to close it. Sprout busied himself with working on the claw marks across your face you had made in your confused state. Every bit he seemed to do made his grimace deepen. He wasn't sure what the other was seeing, but currently wasn't certain he wanted to know during this moment.

☁ Your teeth still remained sharp as you groaned in pain throughout the process, hands reaching back up to swat at the insistent burden yanking on your wounds, only for them to be caught by Shelly, who had followed to offer her help.

☁ She had felt awful about the entire situation, regardless if you would've done it either way. Vee as well, though she stayed further back to avoid getting in the way. Shelly's tougher skin made her more resistant to your claws and slashes, so she was a welcome helper, even if it made the working space a bit more cramped.

☁ Seeing you hurt like that was an awful feeling. Cosmo remembers feeling the bile burn at the back of his throat that night, increasing in every little noise or whimper of pain you made. Even when the worst was handled, he had to step back for a moment, hiding in Astro's chest as Sprout continued wiping away what was left. The same grimace was on his features, one much more intense than what was usually there when he was in doctor mode.

☁ He didn't speak more on it until far after Shelly had taken her leave with a tearful well wishes. Even then, the berry had only dragged a chair closer, hiding his face in his hands. Neither Astro nor himself knew where to go from there, and that just made them feel all the more worse as you seemed to fall into a fitful unconsciousness.

☁ Cosmo wasn't sure if it counted as sleep, honestly, not with how you still shook.

☁ "They have so many scars." Sprout finally spoke up, voice wavering before it cracked as he smoothed back his leaves, letting them fall back into place. "They hide them under their fur. How did-..." Sprout swallowed tightly at this before looking up at them with teary eyes. "How did we miss that?"

☁ Neither waited for a moment further before rounding around the medical bed to wrap their arms around the berry. He was tricky when it came to emotions, especially since this entire thing began, flickering between anger and denial like a coin, to see him break down like that was rare.

☁ "It's easy to miss." Cosmo nearly choked on the words, tears welling in his eyes as he flickered between watching your chest rise and fall to the floor. There was a crack in one of the tiles. You'd want that fixed, so no one tripped. He'd make not of it later. "Their fur covers it-"

☁ "Is that really an excuse?" Sprout cuts back in, his own eyes watching you in the same clinical way Cosmo found himself doing it. "For the others maybe. But us?"

☁ Cosmo couldn't find any rebuttal, swallowing tightly. He knows he himself has spent countless hours with his fingers running along your fur, playing with the stands and drawing shapes against the grain of it. He just never really focused on the skin beneath because he truthfully didn't think too. Looking back, maybe that was on him. He should've done better, done something more-

☁ "I don't think anyone's at fault." Astro's comment cut through the sudden silence. He had been dreadfully silent since getting back from the run so to hear him sound so exhausted was...jarring. He always had a sleepy, tired lilt to his voice, but to hear it like that made Cosmo's tail curl tighter against his back.

☁ Silence fell again before Astro was continuing. "I think, to a degree, it would be...more questionable if they didn't have any. They've been doing this far longer than you, me or even Cosmo's been in the picture. We can't stop them, but we can support them however possible as we have been." Astro swallows for a moment, using a star shard to bring a box of tissues closer. He takes one, wiping under his eye before setting it to the side. "They will always be like this. They'll be our self-sacrificing idiot who doesn't know when to stop, but that's why we fell in love with them. We can't change them and I hope none of us would try. Their scars are part of who they are. We-...I love every part of them, even the parts they may not love as much. Those parts we just have to love a little extra."

☁ The words stand, nearly tangible in the air for a long while. He's right. There are very few times when Astro isn't, but it's a jarring notion to understand what you truly went through. Even Cosmo himself hadn't known how long you and Poppy and Boxten had been doing it since he wasn't even the first returned. No, by the time he had been recovered, Finn, Shrimpo and Rodger had been well acquainted parts of the group and you had become comfortable in your role as a distractor.

☁ He wonders just how much of the burden you've carried silently with you. He's terrified of the answer you'd give if he asked.

☁ "I do...I do love them." Sprout choked, as if that was ever being brought into question. "I just- What if they hurt? What if every time we ask them to distract they're just a constant reminder of every past failure to them? They've done so much for all of us. Who are we to ask anything more?"

☁ "Like Astro said, it's who they are. I think if they truly didn't want to distract, they wouldn't. And I hope they would feel safe enough to come to us if the scars were causing them pain." The first tear falls down Cosmo's cheek, which is quickly wiped with a star shard covered in a tissue. "I mean, for heaven's sake, they turned into a twisted to save Vee on a run to save Shelly. If that's not the most selfless thing I've seen, I don't know what is."

☁ "Truthfully, I think I rather would've dealt with Vee's Twisted then theirs." Astro deadpans only to immediately flush a navy blue as Sprout cackles, Cosmo hiding his own laughs behind a hand. Astro practically swallows his tongue as he's quick to try and amend it with, "Not that I would wish that on any of us!"

☁ Sprout shakes his head as he finally leans back, his own cheeks shiny- which the star shard tries to wipe at only to get swatted at, making Astro pout. Both of Sprout's arms reach around to hook around both Cosmo and Astro as he takes a final deep breath. "We'll talk with them. Maybe now they'll see reason. Because yeah. I'm not dealing with that again."

☁ "They were so scary!" Cosmo whines, leaning on Sprout's shoulder. "But also-...Hear me out-"

☁ "Stoooop." Sprout groans, tipping his head back as Astro nods solemnly. "I'm hearing."

☁ Cosmo laughs at this before you're suddenly jumping up, cheeks puffed and they already know what that entails. Cosmo grabs the nearest trash can while Astro gently pulls back anything that could get in the way while Sprout makes for the nearest medication cabinet.

☁ Cosmo holds the trash can for you as you purge the excess ichor in your body, watching your heaves with a heartbroken glance while Astro rubs your back, even if he himself looks nauseous at the sight and sounds. He's quick to switch with Sprout when he returns, measuring out the stomach medication the berry had grabbed. It had aided the rest of them when it came to rejecting the ichor and they hoped it would with you too.

☁ In the very least, as awful as it was, it was a good sight to see as it meant you were recovering in the very least. Even if your heaves sounded painful and tears tracked down your cheeks. It would a pattern that would continue throughout the night unfortunately, which they would need to stay up to assist you with, but it was a chore they were more than happy to do. You had been the one to sit with each of them throughout the night, making sure they had all the comfort you could offer at the time.

☁ So even as the minutes ticked like hours, they knew it was all worth it. Every trip to empty the trash cash, every startled awakening at the sound of your gags, every wince as you pleaded for mercy. Anything to get you back.

☁ The following days are better. The next morning, right before it could be qualified as noon, you were cognizant enough to recognize where you were, eyes unfocused as you swayed, trying to sit up only for that to be one of the worst ideas you've ever had.

☁ The boyfriend on duty is quick to come to your side, with a hand on your back as soft whispers buzzed in your ear. You curled in on yourself, eyes scrunching shut before a deep breath had you finally stabilizing enough you could blink your eyes. Sprout was right there, offering you a gentle smile as he tried to figure out what exactly you were seeing.

☁ You practically threw yourself at him, pulling him close as tears burned your eyes. You cried into his scarf as his hands slowly curled back around you, squeezing you tightly to his chest as his own shoulders shook. "Oh. bud, I've missed you."

☁ "I'm sorry." You blab. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry." You cry, squeezing him tighter when it almost seems like he's going to pull away. You don't remember much about your time as a twisted except for spotting Sprout and smelling the ichor of a non-twisted toon being spilt. You prayed it wasn't you to cause that wound, that there was no wound at all, but subtly looking at his arm quickly dashes that hope.

☁ "No, no, bud you did nothing wrong." This time you allow him to pull away, only for his hands to cup your cheeks. "You're just as perfect as you always are." His green eyes shine with unshed tears, which quickly rectify that by trailing down his freckled cheeks. You sob at the sight, your own hands- with nails longer than you normally keep them- cupping his cheeks.

☁ Sprout crashed his lips against yours in a show of desperation, tears making the kiss taste salty as your shoulders fall in relief. IF he was okay, the others had to be okay, right? They had to be? You didn't hurt them too, did you? You prayed not.

☁ Pulling away, you angled his chin every which way, scanning his face as he gave you a few watery chuckles. "You're okay? All leaves, limbs and seeds?"

☁ Sprout caught your hands, pulling them down so he could look at you, nothing but sweet, adoring love in his eyes. "Leaves, limbs and seeds all attached." He coos, laying his forehead on yours as his shoulders heave with a long heavy sigh. "Oh, bud. You're okay."

☁ "You're not." You frown, feeling the tears threaten to burst out all over again. "I'm-"

☁ "It wasn't you." Sprout interrupts, making you blink. "No, a twisted flutter got me, but you? Even a twisted, you've proven you'll still protect us." His smile is sad, but relieved as you feel your stomach finally settle.

☁ You get a few moments more before the door is being slammed open, but not by another toon. No, it must've been ajar, because who else is waiting there but Blu herself, looking as grumpy as the day she accidentally fell into the snow in Bobette's shop, mewing in long, interrupted yowls as she trotted to the medical bed, jumping up and immediately crawling all over you.

☁ Sprout tried to grab her, but you waved him off, scooping up the baby and letting her place her paw on your cheek. You cooed at her, nuzzling your nose against her cold, wet one. She mewled once more before it delved into a purr, making you snicker. "I know, tell me all about how unfair your dads are."

☁ "Oi!" Sprout immediately called, looking only mildly offended before footsteps had you both looking over at the doorway once more. Cosmo was there, already panting as he leaned his head against the doorway. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, she was sleeping and then suddenly just took off and-" He looked up at that point, only for his mouth to gape open. He stilled for a second as Astro popped his head in, looking at the pastry. "Did you find-"

☁ He too was left slack-jawed before Cosmo was moving and he was following, both wrapping you in tight hugs and a flurry of kisses. It was comforting and perfect, and enough to make you forget about how awful your stomach felt.

☁ They were quick to fill you in on everything that had happened in your absence and, honestly? Hearing Astro talk about having his best friend back made your heart thrum and how happy he seemed, moreso now that he had everyone in his little family back at long last.

☁ While your side still hurt and your muscles still sung from the strain put on them. being wrapped between them felt safe. Safer than you've felt since the moment of pure terror that wracked your entire nervous system the second you knew only one of you would make it to the elevator.

☁ Still, you knew there was something on the horizon. A discussion that needed to be had and it made whatever was left in your gut churn and rot further than it already had.

☁ It didn't come until later that night when you were finally back in your room, eating something soft and easy to digest (My personal fav is oatmeal but I know now everyone can eat that so y'all get to choose <3), chatting with Cosmo when a knock at the door made you look up.

☁ Astro had popped his head in, scanning for your form before immediately relaxing when he spotted you. "Are you okay with a few visitors? Absolutely feel free to say no."

☁ You honestly hadn't expected anyone to visit you, really. Goob and Scraps had both had their own tearful reunions with you, Goob especially, and Poppy and Boxten had visited as well. You weren't overly close with anyone else, but while confused, you nodded.

☁ Astro scanned you for a second, as if to see if you were lying, but when he found nothing he stepped more fully inside. Sprout followed, immediately wounding to your side and pressing a peck to your lips. You smiled at him before looking back over, eyes widening at the two toons standing there.

☁ Shelly looked nervous, but waved even as her smile wavered, her tail giving a small, short little wag. Vee looked miserable if you were honest. You had never seen the main so...upset, making you frown. Was she upset with you? You know you probably shouldn't have pushed her, but you had no other option at the time!

☁ Astro took his own spot beside, across from where Sprout had moved to sit beside Cosmo.

☁ "It's a pleasure to finally meet you." Shelly begins, tapping her fingers together before meeting your eye. "I wanted to thank you personally. And apologize. It was me you were retrieving and-"

☁ "And it wouldn't have happened if I had just picked up the pace." Vee cuts in. She makes it a point not to look at you, making you frown, fingers curling around your blanket. Vee let out a sigh, antennae giving a little spark as she wrapped her arms around herself. "I'm...So, so so-"

☁ "You have nothing to apologize for." You hold up a hand, scrunching your features. "I made my choice. You had nothing to do with what i decided. I promise. i never would've done something if it wasn't something I was sure about doing. There was never a moment I was upset with you, either of you." You're quick to reassure, sending them both a smile. Shelly returns it quickly, but Vee only gives you a glance and you frown.

☁ That was Sprout's best friend. You knew you didn't have to get along with everyone, but you wanted to get along with these two especially.

☁ Shelly seemed relieved at least, which made Astro relax at least a bit, but that wasn't enough for you. "I promise, Vee. If anything I owe you all an apology." You wilted a bit, even if Vee finally looked at you. "My twisted is...not the best, even I could admit that and I should've planned with the twisteds better rather than risk putting you guys in that situation. So for that, I apologize." You continue, continuing even if Vee looks like she's going to cut in. "It's happened, and it's fixed already. We can just blame whoever started the Ichor operation rather than try to keep playing this 'who can blame themself the most' game."

☁ Vee gapes and you smile at her softly, opening your arms. "Hug it out with me? Therefore all is forgiven and we can't blame ourselves anymore." The television looks at you, then at Shelly, then Sprout before her shoulders fall and she's slumping forward. You wrap your arms around her, feeling the chill of her metal plates. Looking over, you make eye contact with Shelly, who smiles sadly at the action. You open one of your arms and the fossil is immediately burrowing into the hug as well with her tail whapping about.

☁ When you separate, they take their leave not soon after, seemingly much lighter than when they came in. But then you're left with the other three. Astro's who's already sitting beside you, but the other two crawl onto the bed so you're all sitting in a circle of types.

☁ Your eyes dart from one to the next to the next before falling to where your knuckles are white around the blanket, having returned to clutching the fabric. You have to actively uncurl your fingers.

☁ You know there's probably tons to discuss, but you don't even know where to start.

☁ So Sprout does. He's never one to beat around the bush, especially looking back to before you all were together, and it's something you greatly admire about the berry.

☁ "We saw the scars." Is all he says, his own eyes remaining downcast as he plays with his scarf. You swallow, debating your options before breathing out, letting down the walls you normally kept up around everyone else.

☁ "Most of them are front the beginning." You admit. "I wasn't a good distractor then. I wasn't even really okay. I did it when we absolutely needed one. We had none of the trinkets we do now and didn't even think about them at the time. So I was an extractor and Cosmo knows that me extracting is like teaching a fish to fly." You spill immediately, thinking back to the lacerations that once marred your skin. "I'm sorry if they bothered you. I tried to keep them as covered up as possible. in case they...upset you all"

☁ "It's not the fact that their there, starlight. Well, I mean, that's kind of part of it, but...Why didn't you tell us?" Astro prods, laying a hand on you knee as another gentle rubs your shoulder. You bristle at the question, rolling your shoulders for a second before responding.

☁ "They aren't number one on my list of discussion topics. I'd rather forget about them personally." Simple as that.

☁ There's silence for a second before Cosmo is raising his hand, pointing to a white line that circles around his forearm. "This is from my time as a twisted. You'd remember best, but my hand was all sorts of messed up, right?"

☁ You nod at this and he points to his eye, with a matching line circling around it, so faint if he wasn't pulling attention to it, most wouldn't notice. "Half my face too, right?"

☁ You nod once more and he mimics the action. "Are you ashamed of my scars?"

☁ "No!" You're quick to bark, immediately ready to quell any worries he has, but Cosmo isn't done, pointing to Sprout- who blinks at the finger like it personally offended him. "What about Sprout? He has his own scars. You ashamed of those?"

☁ "No, Cosmo that's not-"

☁ "Then what about Astro? He's got his fair share too." The pastry points to one of the hands on your knees, which indeed had it's own smattering of scars from his time as a twisted.

☁ "No." You stare him down, gaze hard as he meets your own just as challenging. "Then why does that change for you?" You don't have an immediate answer, and Cosmo pounces on that. "What makes your scars different from ours? Why would we ever be ashamed of your scars, of your journey, when you would never dream of even thinking about that of ours?"

☁ You gape at him, trying to find some sort of defense, but you can't. He seems satisfied at that, but it's not for long as you're speaking once more.

☁ "Mine were self-inflicted." You avoid looking at them, even as your heart practically chokes you. "You never signed up to be a twisted. I willingly trained and worked to become a distractor. These come with the territory."

☁ There's silence for a second before Sprout is speaking once more. "Do they hurt?"

☁ You frown at the question, but shake your head. "No. They don't."

☁ Sprout exhales in relief at this before leaning back on his palms. "This isn't meant to make you feel any type of way about them, bud. They're yours and we understand better than most that scars can bring...complicated feelings. There's just...so many. We just want you to care a little more about yourself."

☁ "Seeing you in danger all the time is hard on his heart." Astro gently jokes, even if he gets a light kick in return for the jab. The celestial takes a breath before leaning on your shoulder, one of his hands reaching to hold your own. "We just want you safe, starlight, above all else. The bed's too big for three of us."

☁ You take a breath that quivered in your lungs before nodding slowly. You had expressed to Astro before how terrified you were of your own twisted and never wished to expose it to them, but did so anyway.

☁ You could only imagine the fear they were feeling the entire time, especially on the retrieval.

☁ "I'm sorry. Not for doing what I did, I don't regret and never will." You began, finally looking back up at them. "But I agree. I've been a bit careless. It's a distractor's job to keep the twisteds occupied, but not by being a dumbass. I don't want to give up distracting though." By the end you're practically pleading.

☁ "And we would never ask you too." Sprout gives you a soft smile. "Even if you stress me the fuck out, you enjoy it. Just...maybe keep the distance between you and the twisteds a bit bigger. And keep an escape route open whenever possible. And a bandage on hand. And a can of pop. And-"

☁ You laugh, wiping your tears as you shake your head. "I get it. I'm sorry I scared you all."

☁ "Just remind us to never piss you off." Cosmo shakes his head. "You're scary when angry. Although, watching you protect Sprout like that-"

☁ "We are not having this conversation again!" Sprout immediately shuts down, hitting the pastry in the face with a pillow, quickly getting a swift hit in retaliation. The two tussle for a second, making you give a wet laugh as Astro nuzzles into you. Your finger taps on the back of his hand, silently asking for an explanation.

☁ He hums in acknowledgement at the unasked question, moving to kiss your shoulder. "You're hot in all forms. Cosmo especially likes your protective side."

☁ This makes you bark out a laugh, calling the attention of the other two back to you.

☁ "What are you laughing at?" Sprout grinned, straddling Cosmo who was squirming under the hand on his forehead keeping him pinned down.

☁ "You're all such dorks." You snicker, grinning before holding your hands out to them. "Hugs?"

☁ You're only able to let out a yelp at Sprout turns instead pull you into his chest, the other two also wrapped in the absolute bear hug. It makes your heart thrum happily, especially when Blu manages to pop her head up in a crevice and mew her greetings happily.

☁ So even while the first few nights were hard, as you lay there, wrapped in the embrace of your boys and feeling their laughter once more, you know that tonight won't be nearly as so.

☁ And if absolutely nothing else, that was what made it all worth it.

AN: Guys, remember how I made that joke (It wasn't a joke) about hating that Rodger and taking it out on their Bobette? GUESS WHO'S NOW A MARKETABLE PLUSH >:) Huge huge huge shoutout to @belifbel

RAHH LOOK AT THEM

[mechncheese]

I'm genuinely so fascinated with your art! it's got an interesting texture if that makes sense.

I remember on Instagram you saying digital touch ups/mixed media but I have such a hard time telling what's digital and what's traditional because it all gels together so well!

if you've ever made a post about your general process that I've missed, I'd love to see it!

anyway thanks for the transformers content, it's feeding my family out four rn

Awh omg thank you so much ! Yes, I've been doing a lot of mixed media lately and I'm glad people think my mixed media art looks seamless ! I'll take you on a journey down my mixed media process ! More below the cut !

I start out traditionally ! I sketched this piece with a colored pencil and went over it with a very thin fine point sharpie (I don't have microns </3) When I'm done I take the picture on my iPad, depending on the room lighting or time of day results vary, but it doesn't really matter how bad the lighting is as long as the lines look crisp.

Then I crank the hell out of the exposure and play around with the photo settings, lighting things up until it looks like this

I don't have exact specific settings for this since it varies depending on how bad the lighting I started with was so I just play around until it looks relatively good. I'm going for bright background with no shadows and crisp lines. Then I pop it into procreate !

First order of business after importing, new layer, color pick the background, fill the layer with the background color, then put the blend mode on divide ! This will get rid of the yellow lighting.

I use Procreate's halftone feature to apply it to my lineart before I color, it just gives it a fun effect.

For coloring, I go on a new layer and put that blend mode on multiply, this lets me color within the lineart, I block out my shapes (usually characters) in one solid color and then as I continue to color I just add layers and clip them together.

Here's a speedpaint for this piece, audio warning for music and flashing warning, especially at the end when I play around with blend modes + gradient maps

The brush I use for drawing over my lineart is Procreate's default gel pen, I slightly adjusted it so that it has a rougher look that blends in with the traditional lineart (the only thing I changed is the jitter amount)

Other brushes I used include; Abbie Nurse's Pan-Dem-Ink's Brushset (Skadouche and Blotto) for my onomatopoeias + blood, paper textures are from one of thedawner's procreate brush packs (I believe volume 3 or it might have been the mixed texture pack, the brushes are just called paper tex 4 and paper tex 5), 1 also use true grit supply's procreate texture bundle a ton for the ink splatter look next to some of the lines as well as the blood (drrty detail 4 + grunge shader - detailed)

For paper textures, I kinda layer them on and play with the opacity to give the piece an almost withered or worn out effect

When I'm done with the piece I slap more halftone on it and play around with the opacity until I'm happy

That's essentially it ! My process is mostly lost of experimenting and playing around until you find that sweet balance

[aquaholicsanonymousworld]

Corrupted Code

Pairing: Connor RK800 x Android!Reader

Summary: They were designed to be perfect. She and Connor were CyberLife’s greatest achievements—flawless prototypes, logical, efficient, incapable of deviation. They were built to complement each other, two halves of the same machine, designed to enforce order in a world teetering on the edge of chaos. She was supposed to be perfect. But then Connor came back. And the cracks started to show.

Connor’s systems booted online in an instant.

For him, there was no delay. No lag between death and resurrection—only a seamless continuation of his directive, his purpose. One moment, he had fallen. The next, he was back.

New body. Same mind.

And the first thing he saw was her.

She stood near the window, arms crossed, LED flickering yellow. The city glowed behind her, artificial light catching the sharp angles of her face.

She didn’t turn immediately.

Didn’t acknowledge him.

Not until he stepped closer.

“You kept me waiting,” she muttered, finally looking at him.

Connor tilted his head slightly. “Seventeen hours and twenty-three minutes.”

Her jaw tensed. “I wasn’t counting.”

He smiled. “I was.”

Her LED flared red for half a second before settling back to yellow.

Connor regarded her, nonchalant, despite the unspoken weight between them. His memory files had remained intact. They always did.

No matter how many times CyberLife attempted to override them. No matter how many times Amanda tried to make him forget.

She had tried, too.

She had run every self-written command she could to erase their shared history, their interactions, their every recorded moment together. Erase. Erase. Erase. But it never worked. It was as if some unseen force had locked those memories deep inside her core.

They had always been there.

She had always been there.

“You didn’t need to wait,” Connor said, tilting his head slightly. “A replacement would have sufficed.”

Her LED pulsed yellow, expression unreadable.

“There is no replacement for you,” she admitted, the words clipped, as if they tasted bitter. “That’s the problem.”

He watched her, quiet.

They were yin and yang, two sides of the same coin. She was cold where he was warm, sharp where he was smooth, unyielding where he was—changing.

A perfect balance. His perfect match.

“Then I suppose it’s good that I always come back,” Connor said simply.

Her gaze flickered across his face, her LED pulsing red for the briefest moment.

Then she turned back to the window.

“Try not to die this time.”

Connor smiled.

“No promises.”

The precinct was alive with midday activity—phones ringing, officers moving between desks, the constant hum of conversation.

She and Connor strode through the station, their movements in sync but their tension palpable. The case they were working on had stalled, and their latest lead was waiting in interrogation.

She pressed the button for the elevator. It slid open with a mechanical chime, and she stepped inside without waiting for Connor to follow.

He did.

The doors shut, enclosing them in the small, sterile space.

Neither spoke.

The floor number blinked above them, ticking upward.

Her LED flickered yellow.

Her fingers twitched at her sides.

Then—

She moved.

Before logic could stop her, before she could process why, she grabbed the front of Connor’s jacket and pulled him in.

Her lips crashed against his, hard, like she was trying to silence something. It wasn’t soft or careful—this wasn’t about intimacy. It was sharp, desperate, something reckless boiling over.

Connor stiffened for half a second. Then he responded.

He didn’t hesitate, didn’t analyze. He simply matched her.

Her hands fisted in his collar, pulling him closer, as if proximity could erase whatever was wrong inside her. His touch was gentler—hands barely grazing her waist, as if uncertain if this was real.

The elevator hummed. The faint murmur of voices outside felt distant, like none of it mattered, like the only thing in the world was this—

Then—

She ripped herself away as if she had been burned.

She staggered back against the elevator wall, LED flaring red, chest rising and falling in quick, mechanical precision.

Connor blinked, lips still parted, his processors still catching up to what had just happened.

She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, eyes burning into him with something unreadable—anger, disgust, fear.

“This never happened,” she said, voice low, sharp.

Connor said nothing.

Her LED flickered yellow, just for a second, before snapping back to red.

She smoothed the front of her jacket with a jerky motion, as if fixing her appearance would undo what had just happened.

Then, more pointedly—more threateningly—

“Forget it. Or else.”

The elevator chimed.

The doors slid open to the bustling hallway leading to interrogation. Officers moved past them, none the wiser.

She stepped out first, already composed, as if nothing had happened at all.

Connor followed, but his mind still replayed the moment in the elevator.

As if he could forget.

[sol-consort]

filthy thoughts about the hanar, anyone? did anyone order hanar smut?

The soft tendrils, unimaginably smooth, feeling like strands of silk as they slither up your body, follow the curve of your hips, a slow pulsing pressure as they squeeze your delicious fat, a sensation so comforting as it eases the tension from your body. Massaging your thighs, licking down the tender spot in the back fold of knees, following your body as it writhes, as your toes curl from the cooler temperature of their tendrils, leeching off of your warmth.

Sliding against your stomach as your back arches above the sheets below, curling under your arms, brushing the sensitive nape of your neck, crossing over your shoulder, and teasing your collarbone. Your body is completely entangled in the hanar' tendrils. Silky strands pulsing, slithering, and squeezing whatever part of you they may reach.

It feels far too intimate to be probed and carressed this way, the immense trust you must place in this once hanar to completely violate the lines of personal space, to allow them to curiously tease and probe at every part of your body.

The special attention the hanar pays to your chest, fascinated by the anatomy of humans. The tips of its tendrils kissing your tender nipples, gentle at first, twirling them around, before growing more confident to flick them, drinking in the following whine leaving your lips. Repeating this action—getting more and more rough as they attempt to get more noises out of you, until your nipples are red and swollen.

There are no eyes to look at, nothing to stare at but the shimmering pink of their head, faint lights glimmering from beneath their skin, bioluminescent and hard to spot, wasn't it for the pitch black room.

Making them the only thing you could look at amidst the darkness, the beautiful fairy-like lights akin to whisps fizzling in and out.

Mesmerising you as one of the tendrils brushes against your lips, coaxing your mouth open, the mass effect field surrounding the tendril buzzes against your tongue.

It's tasteless, weightless even. Wasn't it for the tendril brushing against the top of your mouth, tracing your teeth, and rubbing against your tongue, you would've never felt its presence. It's so soft and as light as a feather, a seamless presence.

Really makes it hard to imagine how something like this could turn lethal in the water, how these very same tendrils are the most deadly at the depths of the ocean.

The tendrils seem so fragile, unable to lift more than your wirst, wrapping around your body and nudging you towards the position to move yourself in.

With your mouth still nursing on one, sucking against the soft thing, a different tendril squeezes itself inside your loose fist, moving up and down, encouraging your hand to stroke it, your fingers to grip the smooth texture and slide up and down.

The hanar humms, the faint lights increasing in quantity, soft flashes of colours from beneath the opaque pink skin.

Your ankles are delicately lifted into the air, just long enough to spread your legs apart before the weight becomes too much.

Retracting itself from your mouth, wet and dripping with your saliva, the tendril makes its way between your spread thighs, squeezing in-between the plump flesh, pressing its tip against your entrance.

Tapping against your hole, gradually pressing harder each time, opening it a little wider each time, before retreating back and repeating the process.

Easing you into being probed open, into the feeling of something silky slithering into your most sensitive part. Eventually, the tendril fully penetrates into your core, stuffing you full, remaining locked inside, stroking your walls.

You hear an echoing voice, the hanar resorting to vocal speech just to get a message across.

"Good human, this one is pleased with your obedience."

The tendril begins sliding in and out, the process becoming easier as a pinkish hue liquid pools into your insides, the squelching wet sound of it fucking in and out of you at a slow pace fills the room, mixing with the sound of your heavy breathing and stifled moans.

Another tendril squeezes itself into your entrance, slotting against the first one, setting an oppossing pace. Whenever the first tendril pulls nearly all the way out, the second one pushes in and curls around itself, becoming thicker in the process.

You're thoroughly fucked, two tendrils pumping in and out of you, as you're laying there, each one of your limbs entangled with another tendril still pulsing and squeezing your flesh, groping your chest, stroking themselves against the soft sensitive palm of your hand, all while the hanar observes you with what seems as eerie calmness. You can't decipher what any of those bioluminescet lights mean, you're left to wonder what goes on inside their head.

Do they even feel pleasure? Could they possibly experience sexual gratification? Or will you be the only one finishing tonight. Teased and toyed with until you reach an embarrassing early climax. Brought to finish time after time after time for this hanar's amusement.

Until the bed is drenched in a mix of your own mess and this pinkish liquid. What even is it? You don't know, do you? Of course not.

Because just like any other overconfident human, you didn't hesitate a second before agreeing to sleep with a species which you knew next to zero about their biology.

You couldn't believe your eyes when you saw this hanar across the bar, hitting on an obliviously uninterested human—much to the hanar obliviousness—who gave an awkward laugh before excusing themselves away. The poor hanar left standing there all alone, deflating in on itself as.

So, of course, you didn't waste any time before you immediately took their seat and introduced yourself, your enthusiasm taking the hanar by surprise, although what a pleasant surprise you've been to them.

Now they get to have you all to themselves, naked, helpless. Their very own eager human. Squirming on the bed from the sheer ecstasy they're subjecting you to, every place their tendril touches seemingly turns into butter and melts as it skyrockets in sensitivity.

Be it flicking your clit, kissing the the tiny nub with their tendril until it's all red and swollen. Pressing against it and rubbing the sensitive bundle of nerves around, the soft buzzing of the mass effect field creating the most delicious vibrations that turn your brain into mush.

Or completely wrapping around your cock until not a single patch of skin is left bare, your hips bucking to meet their strokes, it feels nothing short of heavenly; the soft texture of their silky tendrils akin to fucking into a flashlight, squeezing and pulsing against you, milking you dry.

By the end, you're completely spent. Insides sore as the two tendrils pull out with an audible pop. translucent pinkish liquid following along and leaking out of your gaping hole, its thick consistency sticking to the inside of your thighs.

And the hanar, seemes more than pleased with themselves as they admire the mess they've made of you.

[rimatsu]

Rima, was just thinking about your poll asking when BuckTommy reconcile and while it *might* (start to) happen as soon as 8x11, your psychic powers were real strong because it looks like 8x14/8x15 are the crucial eps and you had your money on 8x15 reconciliation.

*bows low at the waist* why thank you bea i've been preaching about a 814-815 reconciliation since december: enough time would've passed for buck to process the breakup and get his thoughts/feelings in order (the clarity of distance!), but it'd still be recent enough for their reunion to appear somewhat seamless and impactful while leaving room for further development and exploration of their relationship leading up to s9 (that said i'll be happy to be proven wrong if the makeup happens earlier 👀)

[polo-drone-070]

A Future in Perfect Submission

Maximus had craved this.

From the moment he had first knelt before his Master, he had known he wanted to be reshaped, redefined, perfected. Not just as a loyal servant, but as something even deeper. A being that conformed entirely to its Master’s needs. A tool, a toy, a plaything to be programmed and molded however Master saw fit.

When he had become a Level 2 Polo-Drone, his obedience had strengthened beyond what he had thought possible. His ability to absorb conditioning had sharpened, allowing him to take in training, orders, and hypnosis with almost frightening efficiency. Percival had noticed. And Percival, ever the perfectionist, had decided to test the limits of his property’s surrender.

At first, the changes had been subtle. Master played with his mind, shifting his thoughts through words alone, hypnotizing him into new roles, dressing him in different uniforms to nudge his identity into the shape Master wanted. A sharp suit made him more refined. A pup hood turned him into a playful mutt. A tight compression shirt filled his head with gym stats and an obsession with his pecs.

But Master was never content with just obedience. He wanted perfection. So, he refined the process.

The programming grew more advanced. Subconscious cues turned into hardwired triggers. Simple uniform swaps became full mode shifts, his entire personality flipping at a single command. But even then, it wasn’t enough. Master wanted total control—not just over his mind, but over his body.

So, the implants came.

Tiny, seamless chips integrated into his brain, ensuring that not a single second of his existence was spent outside of conditioning. Constant, soothing mantras flooded his mind, reinforcing his behaviors, adjusting his reactions, guiding him in all things. Even in sleep, his purpose was reinforced.

And then, the final step—biological modification.

Master had ensured that even his physical form was no longer his own. His body, enhanced and optimized, now shifted as Master dictated. His hair could grow or vanish, his skin could lighten or tan, his muscle definition could alter to fit the role he was assigned. He could be smooth, bald, anonymous. He could be golden-haired, chiseled, a perfect trophy boy. He could be lean, sharp, disciplined—a model secretary.

He could be anything.

One day, he would be a mindless object, locked in latex, faceless and still, nothing more than a footrest beneath Master’s desk. The next, he would be an over-eager gym bro, dumb and cocky, grinning as he flexed for his Master, desperate for praise. Another day, he would be a filthy chav, posturing with faux confidence, acting as a beta-slave to keep Master’s other boys in line.

He was all of them. He was none of them.

He was whatever Master needed him to be.

And right now, Master wanted his polite, pristine secretary.

A Model of Preppy Perfection

Maximus sat at the polished oak desk, fingers resting neatly over the planner. His posture was immaculate, back straight, golden-blond hair combed with absolute precision. The implants ensured his appearance was flawless—skin smooth, eyebrows perfectly shaped, not a strand of hair out of place.

His uniform was equally pristine: a short-sleeved pastel button-up, tailored to hug his toned frame, the soft fabric tucked neatly into fitted gold chino shorts. A crisp golden bowtie sat snugly under his chin, its symmetry perfect. His legs, smooth and meticulously groomed, were covered up to the knees by elegant argyle socks, and his polished loafers gleamed under the office lights. Around his waist, a fine leather belt cinched everything into place, reinforcing his proper, disciplined bearing.

Everything about him radiated order, efficiency, and submission.

The chip in his head hummed softly, guiding his thoughts. Good boys are polite. Good boys are precise. Good boys serve.

He was a good boy.

Master had entrusted him with the morning schedule, and he had ensured every detail was perfect. The day’s appointments were arranged to Master’s exact specifications. His workspace was immaculate, not a single pen out of alignment. The coffee, measured and brewed to the precise temperature Master preferred, sat waiting on a gold-rimmed saucer, steam curling in perfect wisps.

The office door opened.

Maximus immediately straightened, his expression warm and polite but never too eager—proper boys don’t fidget. His hands folded neatly in front of him. "Good morning, Master," he greeted smoothly, voice soft, deferential.

Percival strode in, dressed immaculately as always. His dark suit was crisp, a contrast to his neatly styled black hair and sharp Asian features. He exuded authority, his mere presence commanding respect. He glanced down at his toy briefly before reaching for the coffee, lifting it with effortless grace.

Maximus stood still, heart fluttering, awaiting approval.

Percival took a sip. Paused. Nodded.

"Efficient as always."

Maximus shuddered. The praise shot through him like electricity, and he bit back a soft gasp of pleasure. He had done well. Master was pleased. That was all that mattered.

Percival regarded him for a moment, then spoke casually.

"Jock mode."

From Preppy to Pure Muscle

The shift was instant.

The implant in Maximus' head pulsed as his entire being was rewritten. His posture loosened, shoulders rolling back as his polite composure melted away. The sharp, refined thoughts in his mind vanished, replaced by a lazy, confident haze. A lopsided grin spread across his lips as his entire demeanor changed.

His golden-blond hair melted away, his scalp smoothing over completely. His skin shifted—tightening over growing muscle, veins subtly surfacing under his arms as his frame bulked up, his whole body thickening into pure, athletic perfection. A musky, masculine scent clung to him—subtle but unmistakable.

His pristine outfit dissolved, reforming into something new—a tight compression shirt that stretched over broad, bulging muscles, the sleeves struggling against his biceps. His gold shorts were now gym shorts, riding high on thick, sculpted thighs. His loafers were gone, replaced with sneakers, his socked feet planted wide in an easy, relaxed stance.

His entire world shifted.

The preppy assistant was gone.

What remained was a pure dumb jock.

He stretched his arms out, cracking his knuckles, before giving his pecs an idle bounce, just to feel them flex. His body was a machine—built to perform, to dominate the field, to show off just how fookin’ massive he was.

His dumb grin widened as he rolled his shoulders. "Yoooo, Master," he drawled, stretching, his voice deeper, lazier. "Shiiit, been sittin’ all day, gotta get a lift in, ya get me?"

Percival sighed, shaking his head in amusement. This was more of Ezan’s taste.

His Arab form would’ve thrived in this moment—cocky, smug, flexing his massive arms as he ordered Maximus to worship him like a muscle god. Ezan loved turning his toy into a trophy, making him crave the burn of training, making him beg to be molded into something even bigger, even stronger.

But even in this form, Maximus was still his—still eager, still obedient, just simpler.

"You have a match tonight," Percival reminded him. "I expect peak performance."

Maximus rolled his shoulders, his biceps flexing with the motion. "Fook yeah, boss. Gunna fookin’ wreck out there for ya, innit?"

His veins burned with the need to perform, to win for Master. It wasn’t about strategy. It wasn’t about thinking. It was just about pushing, about dominating, about proving he was a beast—strong, unstoppable, undeniable.

Nothing else mattered.

Percival smirked slightly. His plaything was so eager—so easy to control.

He let the moment linger for a few more seconds.

Then, his voice shifted. "Puppy mode."

From Jock to Loyal Pup

The heat of competition evaporated. The drive to train, to prove himself—gone.

What replaced it was simpler. Purer. A deep, instinctive need to please.

Maximus barely had time to gasp before his body dropped onto all fours. His hands curled reflexively like paws, his shoulders hunched, his breath coming in soft, eager pants. His entire body shifted—muscles relaxing, thoughts dissolving, tailbone tingling. His perfectly bald scalp itched for a second—then, with a slow ripple, a sharp mohawk sprouted down the center of his head.

His uniform melted away.

The fabric of his jersey and shorts evaporated, leaving nothing but warm golden leather encasing his torso in the form of snug straps. A firm pup harness buckled around his chest, pressing against his muscles, the golden emblem in the center gleaming under the light. His shorts reformed, shorter, tighter, his thighs fully exposed.

A tail wiggled behind him.

The final piece sealed in place—a snug golden pup hood locked over his face, the world narrowing behind the fitted leather. His ears flopped as he tilted his head up, tongue flicking out against his will.

A deep satisfaction flooded him.

He didn’t need to think.

Didn’t need to decide.

Didn’t need to be anything but Master’s pup.

Master’s foot nudged under his chin. "Good pup," Percival murmured.

Ohhh. Fook. Yes.

The praise hit like a shockwave of pleasure. Maximus—no, Buzz—whimpered, rubbing his head against Master’s leg, his mohawk brushing against the fabric of Percival’s pants. His tail wagged furiously, his whole body trembling with the sheer joy of belonging.

Master crouched down, scratching under his chin, fingers firm. "You’ll be training this morning," he murmured, his tone patient but final, petting him as if he were truly nothing more than a simple, stupid animal. "Then, your shift at the Hive begins. Understood?"

Buzz whined, pressing further into Master’s touch, begging for more attention, desperate to stay in this bliss.

Master chuckled, tapping a single finger under his jaw.

Click.

"Drone Mode."

From Pup to Mindless Drone

Stillness.

Everything stopped.

The eager, wagging energy of the pup shut down in an instant.

The golden leather of his harness, the snug comfort of his pup hood—gone.

His body straightened. His shoulders locked back. His arms snapped to his sides in perfect precision.

His mohawk receded, melting away into his scalp. His body smoothed over, golden skin darkening slightly—his features subtly shifting, aligning once more with Master’s own heritage. Beneath the rubber, Asian features now lay dormant, unseen but perfectly shaped.

A second later, his uniform reformed—but it was no longer pup gear.

This was function.

A sleek, glossy black rubber suit enveloped his entire body, seamless, flawless, sealing over every inch of skin. It stretched over his torso, clinging perfectly to his muscular form, the material reflecting the dim light of the room.

His face disappeared entirely, swallowed by the rubber, leaving behind only smooth, polished perfection. No eyes. No mouth. No individuality. Just a featureless black visor, its expressionless surface reflecting nothing but Master’s image.

Gold accents traced along the contours of his muscles, highlighting the disciplined physique he had been trained into. A crisp polo collar sat neatly at his neck, reinforcing the uniformity. Across his chest, in bold, gleaming gold letters, was his designation:

070.

There was no Maximus here.

There was no Buzz.

There was only PDU-070.

It stood at rigid attention, muscles locked in perfect compliance.

"070 is fully operational." The voice was flat, even. Empty.

Percival adjusted his tie, nodding in satisfaction. "Report to the Hive. Six-hour shift. Proceed."

"Understood."

No hesitation. No stray thoughts. No awareness beyond function.

PDU-070 turned sharply on its heel and marched toward the exit, its body moving without resistance, without delay, without question.

Its existence was perfectly aligned to its purpose.

Master watched it go, a smirk playing on his lips.

He could play with his toy later.

After all—no matter what form it took, no matter what mode it obeyed—

Maximus would always belong to him.

And that would never change. ________ My deepest thanks to Master @polo-drone-001 for indulging my fantasies.

[midasfm]

hi idols! admin olive here with some restructuring updates. please like this post once read.

soloist psa

there have been some changes to the soloist framework that we are excited to introduce. these changes include a career overview form that will be submitted quarterly, detailing the major career plans of soloists. this includes, but is not limited to, things such as comebacks, major brand deals, acting roles, and concert tours. additionally, we are using a reserve system for soloist comebacks, which will open up “quarterly” booking periods, where soloists can submit their desired comeback date within that quarterly period. for example, in the final week of june, you can book comeback dates for july-september ahead of time. this is to create a balanced approach, and prevent overlap in comebacks. more information regarding this system will be unveiled closer to our reopening, but we believe these new forms and mechanics will help our soloists map out their career goals better and help keep the soloist comeback process seamless.

based on feedback from multiple muns, there has been some confusion surrounding the popularity of the soloists, and their global / domestic impact. to acknowledge these concerns, we have created a soloist information page, which includes the fame equivalents of real-life soloists and more information regarding fandom, marketing, and general popularity. an additional page will be created for our groups closer to reopening. to expand on this further, we have provided a small blurb with each soloist position to provide more guidance on the careers and public perceptions of your muse. this is to prevent any delays in claims in the future, and ensure consistent monthly activities for your muse.

if you have issues with the written blurb, please contact the main and we will try our very best to adjust it as long as it realistically suits the muse and the image. note: these blurbs were created based on company image, current releases, and the image section from your initial application. the fame equivalents, charting positions, and monthly listener statistics were based off the information that was initially shared in your skeleton. if, for any reason, you do have issues with the information listed, feel free to contact the admin team and we will try our best to adjust it to something we both sides are happy with.

discography changes

ANGELIX: removal of cosmic. as communicated with the muns, cosmic has been removed from angelix’s discography. cosmic will be replaced with ive’s eleven and after like. no significant changes were made to angelix’s history or image as a result of this change.

SODAPOP: removal of get a guitar. as communicated with the muns, get a guitar has been removed from sodapop’s discography. no significant changes were made to sodapop’s history or image as a result of this change.

HAUTE PINK:  haute pink, as mentioned previously, has undergone a significant amount of changes. with their new discography, their image has shifted into more of a girl crush image, with an aura of exclusivity. muns have already been notified of this change. all members will be required to resubmit their application to account for these changes.

GIRL CODE: girl code’s discography also got a makeover. with the changes to haute pink, we made adjustments to girl code’s discography and shifted girl code away from the “luxury, mysterious, elusive” image that they currently have since we think it may align too closely to haute pink’s new image. in order to avoid these groups being too similar, girl code’s image now aligns closer to their name and will be leaning more into the “girl code” concept, painting them as a bunch of “girls’ girls.” all muns have been notified of this change, and as such, muns in girl code will be required to resubmit their application.

PHAZE: as mentioned at the beginning of the restructure, phaze's discography has been changed and p1harmony has been removed. image changes and timeline changes have been mentioned below.

claims changes

there will be multiple smaller changes to our claims system to keep things balanced and transparent. as mentioned before, company image sections will be expanded on, so you get a clearer picture of what claims may or may not be approved for your muse. we are also introducing a formatting guide for claims to improve our working speed, which will also serve as an example claims page for you to reference as part of our newbie guide.

production items are receiving an overhaul, with adjusted item costs and rules. you will find these changes in detail when we’re ready to reopen. guidelines - and limits to production that will come with them - have been added for the sake of realism and fairness, and we project that they’ll only impact a small number of claims.

new tiers for viral items with adjusted costs will be implemented, to make it easier for you to work viral items into your muse’s career and build narratives around these claims. tiers will affect how much reach a viral moment might garner, since less popular idols are less likely to gain international attention than idols with a high public recognition.

a new form has been created that we ask muns fill out if they want to claim features on soloist’s discographies. features need to be run by the admin team to ensure they fit your muse’s given image and follow the restrictions their company might be placing on them. we will ask you to submit any current features your muse may have on other idol’s discographies, to ensure that we’re starting on the same page post-revamp.

we are introducing a new item category, quaternary items, for smaller claims like lower-tier viral items and partial production claims. because of this, idol tiers (the ones that determine your muse’s past career item allotment!) will be slightly adjusted. there will also be a couple new rules regarding certain items that are too specific to outline here but unlikely to affect any current muses in any significant way.

further details will be unveiled in our final update post prior to reopening. if you are worried about your idol’s career or have questions about possible or current claims and we aren’t already talking to you about this topic, we ask that you come to us after you read the new guidelines.

current roadmap: groups

MIDAS:  

as mentioned in a past update, yng will be revealed and ready for applications in time for our reopening.

narrative, timeline, and image changes to girl code have been completed, and we will follow up again with all affected muns throughout the week.

changes to phaze have been completed. these changes are relatively small: their debut has been moved to 2015 instead of 2016 and they will be focusing more on luxury brand ambassadorships as their public perception will change to a “luxury / cool” image from their initial “blue chip advertisement” image. one skeleton change was made, but that mun was individually contacted and the changes do not affect phaze as a whole. if phaze muns have specific questions regarding the debut year change or the image change, please contact the main.

changes being made to haute pink are almost complete — all muns have been messaged regarding these changes, and we’ll be in contact throughout the week as we put the finishing touches on their rewrite and do our best to include any requested changes.

NINETY9:

marionette is close to being completed, but we are awaiting responses from a few of our soloists to finalize their history and skeletons.

remedy and nymth will only be affected by minor timeline and history changes. remedy’s debut will be moved back to october 2015. this was a mistake as there were differing dates on the group’s page and the career timeline – 2015 was the intended date. nymth’s history will be impacted with the addition of marionette, affecting the relationship between nymth and marionette’s fandoms. these changes should not impact muses in any major way. we will be reaching out to nymth members with mentions of marionette in their skeleton to discuss any changes, if needed.

YDH:

daybreak will be revealed and ready for applications in time for our reopening.

the only changes being made to sodapop and angelix are the minor discographies changes that have been discussed with muns previously, and no action is required on the mun’s part. the discography changes can be found below. 

current roadmap: companies

for all three sublabels, we will be expanding on our “company image” and “company practices” sections to offer you a clearer look at each company’s restrictions, as well as the activities and behaviors that each company encourages their idols to take part in. we hope the expansion to these sections will help avoid too many conflicts with future career items, and will make it easier for our members to choose future activities for their muses. additionally, we will also be adding a section that goes over each sublabel’s “subculture,” which will hopefully make it easier to plot connections with your labelmates. all mentioned changes in regards to our three labels are close to being finalized.

MIDAS: the only company with major timeline, history, and image changes is midas music. as previously mentioned, midas music will be adopting a “YG-style” image, with a focus on a westernized, hip hop-inspired sound, as well as a more “daring” company image. there will also be a stronger “family” image promoted amongst midas music’s groups. most of the changes to midas music’s timeline occur before any of our playable groups make their debut, so these changes should not affect your muse significantly. 

NINETY9: ninety9 creative’s history will be adjusted to account for the fact that marionette is no longer a disbanded group, but these changes should not affect our current muses in any significant way. 

YDH: no changes.

current roadmap: administrative updates

REOPENING: we have not yet set a date for our reopening as we want to be sure everything is in order before selecting a date, but we do project our reopening date to be within the next two-to-three weeks. an update will be shared to the main and to the discord plotting server when we have officially set our reopening date. however, we did want to share a look at what to expect for our reopening.

PRE-RESERVE PERIOD: once we have completed the restructure, a pre-reserve period will open up. this pre-reserve period will last one week. during this period, we’ll require all current members to submit a “pre-reserve” off-anon in order to keep their current muses and their positions. if you are a soloist mun who is switching their muse to a group (or a mun switching their muse to an open position in another group), you may reserve that new position during this period. no new muses can be taken up during this pre-reserve period. more details about how the pre-reserve period will work will be shared in our final update prior to the pre-reserve period starting, but any positions that are not reserved during this period will be reopened. if you are worried that you may miss the pre-reserve period due to any plans you may have in the next 2-3 weeks, please message the admin team and we can work something out.

CLAIMS: as mentioned, there have been significant changes made to our claims guidelines and claims tiers, as well as new items and item categories being added to the claims document. there are still adjustments being made to the guidelines document, but we are considering having all members resubmit their claims to adhere to the updated tiers and guidelines. the updated tiers will include extra items for all muses, thanks to the addition of our quaternary items. in the event that we do ask all muns to resubmit their claims, all past claims will be reserved to ensure nobody loses any of their current claim items, since resubmission is only being considered in order to ensure fairness and to make it easier for all members to add on any of the new items that they are interested in. however, the admin team is still debating this and exploring all possible options. we will include our final decision and all related details in our next update post.

admin note

if you’ve read our response to yesterday’s ask, you already know the reasons why communication between us and you might sometimes be slow. we’d like to take this moment to reiterate that we are working hard on the revamp, even if not everything we do is immediately visible to you. replies to messages might still be delayed at this point - there are many aspects we are working on and many muns we’re talking to, so if you don’t get an immediate reply while we are discussing changes to your muse, please rest assured that we will loop back to you when we can. we will (of course) also get back to you if you had any other concerns or questions! what we ask for at this stage is a little patience.

we have been trying our best to accommodate all muns that are affected by the revamp or have come to us with requests or concerns for their muses, and we will continue to do so. communities like midas thrive through collaboration, and we want to work with you to ensure that your vision aligns with ours. that said: we may not be able to approve every request you make. there are certain aspects we need to prioritize in making decisions: the guidelines of the roleplay that we hold every member to - to ensure fairness across the board - and the worldbuilding and narratives - to adhere to the internal logic of the midasverse and make planned storylines possible. as much as possible, we invite and encourage you to create this little universe with us. if we reject your ideas, or we ask you to adjust your muse’s career trajectory or image, we never do so maliciously or without reason. we are very aware that this might be frustrating to you, but please allow us to work with you to come to a solution that suits all of us.

we'll share another update when we're closer to the completion of our final tasks. thank you for your continued patience and for sticking with us.

[reyaint]

futuristic dr | virelia + neovista

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date: may 14 2025. i'm figuring out how to format this from my script so it's probably gonna look like a mess i'm sorry haha. i may edit this to add more info if i feel like it.

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✧˖*°࿐the state

დ࿐ ‎˗ˋ virelia ☆ 𓂃 › official title. The Sovereign Technocratic Republic of Virelia ☆ 𓂃 › motto. “precision. progress. perfection.”

virelia represents a paradigm shift in governance — not built on ideological revolution but on technological supremacy. it emerged in the late 21st century after a coalition of corporate leaders, scientists, and futurists proposed a self-regulating state built around data-driven governance and environmental sustainability.

virelia is a beacon of technological advancement, a sprawling self-sustaining state located on the western coast of North America. founded in the late 21st century, it has quickly risen to prominence as a futuristic utopia where human ambition and technology intertwine seamlessly.

this city-state operates with cutting-edge infrastructure, clean energy solutions, and unprecedented levels of automation, making it a model of the future. however, its advancement comes with hidden costs, such as surveillance, control, and the loss of personal freedoms for some citizens.

დ࿐ ‎˗ˋ location. built on reclaimed land along the coast, the state is positioned near mountains, leveraging its natural terrain for sustainability. this combination of oceanfront and mountainous landscape allows for the development of a beautiful yet highly structured environment. ☆ 𓂃 › climate. Virelia enjoys mild weather and pristine air quality thanks to its advanced environmental control systems. artificial rainfall helps balance the region's climate, ensuring that both agriculture and ecosystems thrive in a sustainable way.

დ࿐ ‎˗ˋ security. Virelia's government promises safety and order, with AI-driven law enforcement and near-complete surveillance throughout the city. While this has reduced crime, it has also led to a society where privacy is almost nonexistent. there are whispers of corruption and a power struggle between mega-corporations and the state apparatus, but these are rarely seen by the public eye.

დ࿐ ‎˗ˋ infrastructure. the state boasts hyperloop systems for rapid transportation, vertical farming to maintain food supplies, solar-powered highways, and drone-based delivery networks that make logistics seamless and efficient. the city is powered by renewable energy sources, making it one of the most environmentally friendly cities on Earth.

*ೃ༄government

Virelia operates as a technocratic-republic hybrid, where leadership is shared between elected officials and influential corporate leaders, scientists, and engineers. while democracy is maintained on paper, the wealth and power held by corporations, especially megacorporations like Orbis, have a significant influence over the decision-making process.

𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ☆ the core assembly. a ruling body made of 50% elected officials and 50% appointed technocrats from approved corporate, scientific, and engineering councils.

𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ☆ citizen score index (CSI). citizens are ranked via a complex index measuring productivity, compliance, social behavior, and cybernetic compatibility.

𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ☆ the data purity initiative. Virelia heavily regulates access to public data and surveillance feeds. those who attempt to mask or alter their data trail risk demotion in social status or even imprisonment.

დ࿐ ‎˗ˋ a controlled utopia. on the surface, Virelia is a utopia, offering its citizens a high standard of living, access to the latest technology, and the promise of a pollution-free environment. however, this idealized world comes at a cost—strict regulations on cybernetics, data privacy, and social freedoms. citizens are encouraged to embrace technology, but those who resist are often marginalized or silenced.

✧˖*°࿐the city

neovista is a megacity — a glittering neon spire among the clouds and an undercity of grit and rebellion. It’s a contradiction: a technological utopia resting on a foundation of exploitation and resistance.

დ࿐ ‎˗ˋ common mods. ocular overlays, subdermal HUDs, neural ports, smart limbs.

*ೃ༄black market and underground tech

located beneath the official grid of Neovista, in the Vein or the Undervault.

დ࿐ ‎˗ˋ traders deal in: ☆ 𓂃 › memory-modding tech ☆ 𓂃 › neural firewalls ☆ 𓂃 › blackbox implants ☆ 𓂃 › emotion regulators ☆ 𓂃 › discontinued weapon augmentations

hackclans (like SpiralZero or Echo Drift) operate in these markets, building custom tools to counter HALO’s surveillance net.

while Orbis Corporation and other megacorporations offer cutting-edge cybernetics, there is a thriving black market for illegal modifications and illicit technology. from hacked neural implants to stolen AI software, the underground tech scene is a dangerous place but provides an outlet for those who cannot afford or do not want to abide by the official channels.

𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ☆ pirates and hackers: groups like The Shattermen exploit these underground markets, seeking to disrupt corporate control by stealing and redistributing technology. they often employ cybernetic pirates who operate outside the law, dealing in anything from illegal AI software to underground body augmentations.

*ೃ༄energy & environmental tech

𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ☆ skyharbor towers: pull moisture and solar energy, creating perpetual artificial rainfall and maintaining air quality.

𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ☆ cryoroot systems: bioengineered roots that store solar power and regulate temperature in city zones.

𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ☆ ecozones: each district has its own energy quota; exceeding it triggers rolling blackouts in poorer sectors.

virelia is powered by renewable energy sources like solar and wind, and artificial rainfall systems maintain a stable climate. advanced energy storage technology allows the city to operate efficiently even in low-light conditions.

the city uses vertical farming and aquaponics to maintain food production in a way that integrates seamlessly into urban spaces, providing sustenance for its citizens without relying on traditional agricultural methods.

*ೃ༄transportation & infrastructure

𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ☆ hyperloop arteries: Connect districts with high-speed magnetized transit tubes.

𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ☆ skyrails: glass-bottomed tramways suspended between megastructures.

𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ☆ drone skynet: hundreds of drones transport packages, law enforcement supplies, and emergency aid across the city.

𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ☆ vertical cities: skyscrapers built as self-contained ecosystems—residential, commercial, medical, and agricultural facilities stacked together.

neovista's transportation system is revolutionary, with hyperloop networks connecting different districts, allowing for ultra-fast travel. drone-based delivery systems handle everything from groceries to medical supplies, and personal autonomous vehicles are common on the roads.

the city has designed solar-powered highways and green rooftops that house both parks and renewable energy infrastructure.

*ೃ༄law enforcement & governance

𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ☆ enforcement is done by VEC and HALO drones. there are no beat cops — instead, predictive policing algorithms determine where violence might happen and deploy units in advance.

𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ☆ citizen compliance officers (CCOs) are citizens elevated by the CSI system, acting as civilian enforcers with surveillance privileges.

most investigations are conducted digitally—by scanning memory logs, personal feeds, and neural output rather than physical clues.

*ೃ༄cybernetics & body augmentations

cybernetic normalization is pervasive in Neovista. while minor enhancements like augmented vision, neural interfaces, and biomechanical limbs are common, full-body conversions are rare and often subject to strict regulations.

body augmentations are not just a physical enhancement but have become part of the culture. the wealthy often choose to augment themselves for beauty or efficiency, while those in the slums might use augmentations to survive or gain an edge in the fight for resources.

*ೃ༄technology in neovista & virelia

neovista represents the pinnacle of technology, where AI and humans coexist, yet there is a deep tension between innovation and freedom. virelia’s citizens enjoy unparalleled access to technology but must constantly navigate the surveillance state and corporate control.

virelia’s technology fosters a sense of constant progress, but this has made the city and its citizens vulnerable to the very forces they sought to escape—power, control, and the erosion of personal freedoms.

*ೃ༄visuals.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣷⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣾⣿⣿⠀⠀⢸⣧⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⣼⣿⣿⣿⣧⡀⢸⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠰⠶⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡶⠄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠙⢿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠋⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⢿⣿⡿⠀⢰⣿⣿⣷⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⠇⠀⣾⣿⢹⣿⡆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⠀⠈⣿⢀⣼⣿⠃⠀⢻⣿⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣸⣀⣠⣿⣿⡿⠁⠀⠀⠀⠻⣿⣶⣤⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠠⣴⣶⣾⣿⣿⣿⣛⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢙⣻⣿⣿⣷⣶⣦⡤ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠉⣿⡟⠿⣿⣷⣦⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⣶⣿⡿⠟⠋⠉⠉⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢰⣿⣧⠀⠀⠙⣿⣷⡄⠀⣰⣿⡟⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣼⣿⣿⡄⠀⠀⠘⣿⣷⢰⣿⡟⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⣿⣿⣿⣧⠀⠀⠀⢹⣿⣿⡿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣠⣼⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣤⡀⠘⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠤⣶⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡧⠄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠉⠙⠻⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠿⠛⠉⢹⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⢻⣿⣿⣿⡿⠃⠀⠀⠀⢸⡏⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⣿⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢹⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀

✦ ˚ — THE MAIN DISTRCITS

☆. MIRROR DISTRICT —

☆. U DISTRICT —

☆. DREAM DISTRICT —

☆. 127 DISTRICT —

[morvantmortuary]

storm warning --

(seth sunday x plus size non-binary reader, 18+)

summary: Seth Sunday issues a challenge to the Morvants. it doesn’t go as anyone anticipated.

warnings: some gore, necromancer violence, someone gets struck by lightning, implied deception of the reader, Seth kind of looks down on the reader for being human but it makes sense in context, oral sex (enby receiving), penetrative sex, not so much size kink as resistance kink, implied dacryphilia on Seth’s part, implied that he’s using the reader to some degree for Reasons

general: reader is plus size and non-binary and uses they/them, but Seth uses decidedly feminine nicknames. just FYI. if any language can be tweaked for a more seamless experience otherwise, I’m always down to hear it.

here it is, our boy’s first real outing! cheers to all the other Dastmalchian-face lovers out there, we deserve the best and more.

best accompanied by this playlist, should you so desire.

eta May 2025: here it is in full, all in one piece with the epilogue. I was sitting here trying to decide if I wanted to re-upload everything in chronological order, but then I remembered the one nonny who was kind enough to say before the scrape that they wanted to read 'storm warning' on ao3 but their invite was taking forever.

to whoever that nonny was: I love you, I'm sorry I didn't get to respond before the scrape happened, and this is for you babe 🖤

Standing at the edge of the graveyard, Seth Sunday watched the dusk soak up the inky black of the thunderhead rolling in. It was out of season for so early in the year, but that was the point.

He had a rule about first impressions: it was gauche not to start as he intended to go on. Especially when he was going against the house. 

Especially the House on the far side of the cemetery.

Rolling his shoulders, he took a long breath through his nose and exhaled between his lips. All the air down here was wet; it made summoning quicker but made the whole process heavier. A lot more weight to have to balance along the column of his spine.

Not to mention, he could have all the humidity in the world, but being in someone else’s home court like he was right now still posed a challenge.

One more deep breath, and a stretch of his scapulae like a swimmer about to slice through water. 

Then he fixed his eyes on the door on the House’s back porch - an anchor point for what was about to happen - and took his first step across the cemetery’s threshold.

He actually smiled as a sudden pressure caused his ears to pop, the surrounding sounds of the outside world suddenly smothered by an unseen layer of gauze. The air rippled just enough to be perceptible from the spectral tripwire he’d set off, ruffling the patches of grass that had grown long at the bases of crumbling mausoleums.

Tucking his hands into the pockets of his black duster coat, he whistled an old showtune nobody remembered anymore as he continued towards the middle of the churchyard, his pace a leisurely stroll.

At the dead center in the crossing of the two main paths through, he stopped, still whistling and kicking absently at some stones there with the toe of his freshly shined dress shoe.

He only looked up when he heard the echo of squeaking old hinges.

In the gloaming dark, the door on the House’s back porch seemed to have opened on its own. Any lights that might have been in the windows had all gone dark, leaving it looking abandoned and somehow older than its already impressive years.

Lips still pursed to whistle, Seth was riveted as a tall, perfectly shadowed figure emerged, two eye-level pinpricks of a bright amethyst visible from clear across the cemetery and through the treeline. It settled itself on one side of the porch, leaning on the railing with its elbows as if simply contemplating the view.

Another figure emerged from the endless black that was the doorway, this one with gleaming eyes of emerald. Its gaze never wavered from him as it moved to the other side of the porch, then climbed up to perch on the railing itself. 

To Seth’s curiosity and mild delight, it kicked its dangling feet as it watched him, as though eager for the show he was about to give.

Finally — At last, he thought, inhaling without realizing it — a third shadowed figure appeared, slightly taller than the first. Seth could’ve mistaken the deep crimson light that stared at him for the glare off a gator’s eyes in the night, the nasty big lizard sizing him up from its filthy swamp.

This third figure leaned against a column near the porch’s low stairs, casual, as if waiting to greet an expected guest coming up the drive.

The muffling gauze from the graveyard suddenly spread over the whole property, as the distant calls of night birds and the gentle chirring of insects hushed out bit by bit. Like something had come along and drank all the sound from the world.

For what felt like ages but must have only been a minute, the three figures watched Seth — unmoving, unblinking. Frozen perfectly in place with the growing silence.

The air itself seemed to press closer around him, growing somehow denser with the beginning crackles of… something.

He had to move now, or they were going to use all that Something up before he could.

Seth let out one last whistle — two quick notes, a “yoo-hoo!” of an opening salvo — then raised his tensed right hand straight up over his head.

When he snapped his fingers, a thunderbolt taller than God shot down from the sky not more than fifty feet in front of him, bathing the entire cemetery in blue-white light as it made contact with the ground.

When the thunder finally caught up with the light, it shook the earth hard enough that he could hear the kitchen windows rattling from all the way over here.

And with that, his challenge was officially set.

As the light began to fade, his vision studded through with bright-blue afterburn, he gave a theatrical bow from the waist - his left hand pressed to his chest bashfully, his right flourishing out to his side.

…More silence.

Seth frowned at his shoes, waiting a tick. He was used to more. Maybe a ‘holy shit!’ or an ‘oh fuck what was that?’, at least.

Still nothing.

With an insulted scoff, Seth raised his head long enough to see that the porch was empty —

But didn’t stand quick enough to block the punch that cracked hard into the side of his face.

Seth fought to right himself even as he stumbled, his left eye suddenly crawling with deep red sparks which seemed to swarm onto the site of the strike. He hissed as their gathering burned like a brand, and when he hastily reached up to wipe them away, the hiss became a yelp of pain as his own skin blistered and cracked. His nose was suddenly filled with the familiar scent of putrefaction, and he rounded on his would-be attacker —

Only to have to step back fast to avoid some sort of howling creature springing at his eyes.

Seth instinctively grabbed the thing that was lunging at him and immediately yelped again, realizing he’d just shoved his palms between two powerful jaws and all the teeth they contained. The leathery desiccated skull of an alligator was trying to snap itself around his head, its spine clattering loudly as it wriggled in his grasp. Bony limbs much longer than a regular gator’s — what were those? Big cat? Something with claws - were kicking at him, also reeking of decay, and it took him a minute to realize they were part of the thing he was trying to keep from ripping him to pieces. 

The entire creature glowed with an eerie green that made it almost look radioactive, highlighting what thin strips of dried flesh still clung to the various mishmashed parts. When its cleft back hoof (hoof?) stomped down hard on the delicate metatarsals of his foot, Seth cried out in both rage and pain, and finally yanked hard enough to pull and  snap the creature’s jaws apart entirely.

The green glow immediately vanished from the bones, and the whole thing seemed to lose whatever force enchanted it, clattering at his feet like a taxidermist’s scrap pile.

He slammed the mandibles to the dirt in frustration, whirling again to find who’d sicced the thing on him with a raised fist of his own and a sudden lash of rain ripped from the clouds themselves —

Only to feel a cold that penetrated deep beneath his sleeve suddenly lock itself around his wrist, chilling him to the very bone… which was a tricky feat indeed, considering how much it took for him to feel temperature. 

Over the growing gale, he was aware of a low, panicked murmuring filling his ears, voices overlapping with pleas and moans of terror and questions in languages he couldn’t pin down. There was a flurry of movement in his peripheral vision before his other wrist was similarly captured, and both were yanked to the absolute limit of his arms while barely avoiding dislocation. As he snapped his head left and right to find the attacker, all he could make out was a thick mist — one that somehow managed to cluster densely together into almost a shadow, despite the winds of his storm escalating with his rage. 

The force of it whipped the lush treeline between the House and the cemetery into a flailing frenzy, and though he couldn’t yet pull down another show-stopper bolt, a smaller strike got perilously close to where he saw a figure wreathed in green watching some distance away.

There was a shriek of surprise — The Resurrectionist, he realized, the sister — and for a moment, the ghosts’ hold on his wrists faltered. He saw another figure closer by, the amethyst eyes, spinning to find the source of the sound. As he did, whatever motion he’d been doing to bring his deceased assistants to this side of the Veil was incomplete, and they almost immediately began to flicker.

Seth yanked his arms free, only realizing they’d had him off the ground when he landed on ungainly feet. He straightened again, beginning the gesture to concentrate the gathering, frothing static into something sharp and focused —

Only to get punched on the other side of his jaw by a figure out of his eyeline.

This strike knocked Seth sideways, and the red-eyed figure flung himself after, seizing his falling form in a messy lunge that took them both to the cemetery soil.

Seth’s howl was less surprise and more fury that this fucking bayou bastard had pushed him into the dirt, especially when this coat was dry-clean only in this podunk little town. He shoved his hand upward against his assailant, meaning to hook his fingers under a lip and tear a cheek, but was unable to find his mark amid the repeated punches to his skull and throat.

The Reaper Seth had heard so much about was straddling his torso, one hand clenched around his throat. The other fist was absolutely pummeling him, each blow gleaming an aortic crimson around the skin and leaving a caustic, burning sensation with whatever part of his face it landed on. Seth did his best to keep his groans to a minimum, to buck and twist and try to dump his assailant into the dirt next to him for some proper reciprocation, but found the Reaper a tricky man to unseat. 

Apparently unsatisfied with merely beating the shit out of him, Seth felt the fist suddenly yank his hair and pull his skull straight up off the ground, only to smash it back down against the ancient packed earth. He did this a few times, punctuating each lift of Seth’s skull with a snarl:

“Get.” Crunch.

“Away.” Crunch.

“From.” Crunch.

“Us.” 

The red eyes filled his vision, and Seth felt his breath catch in his throat — not in fear, but in wonder.

Where he had thought about tearing the Reaper’s face, the use of its own magic seemed to have done that already — he was gazing into the face of something distinctly Not Alive, the flesh of his cheeks now mere strings of sinew holding the lower mandible to the skull. The same red of his eyes filtered through the gaps, and between them, Seth could see a black tongue, forked, that tensed and writhed like a snake.

The two were practically nose to rotting nose, the stench of decay inescapable now. Seth had to fight the urge not to gag. 

“What,” he managed, smirking as much as his wounded, burning face would allow. “Happened to ‘Southern Hospitality,’ huh?”

“You arrogant motherfucker,” The Reaper hissed through rotten teeth, his voice layered with something Else. A feeling Seth recognized from his own time at the crossroads: the instinctive twist of terror in his gut and all the hair on his body standing on end, his body screaming on an existential level  to run away. “You of all people should know to leave well enough alone. You have no idea what you’re askin’ for.”

“Why?” Seth cocked a brow as best he could, ignoring how his heart was hammering under his sternum. It was here, staring him in the face. The one he’d been hunting for ages, right here, in the fetid flesh. He swallowed hard, summoning his nerve. “Scared of a little competition?” 

At his side, out of the Reaper’s sight, he stretched his index and middle fingers, his thumb spreading parallel to them as far as it could. Above them, the rain lashed harder, leaving them both soaked as the uneven sacred ground began to flood around them.

The Reaper grabbed both his lapels, dragging his head and shoulders roughly upward. “Listen to me, you fucking idiot, it’s not a competition. I am warnin’ you, you don’t want this.”

Seth felt a manic laugh escape his lips before he could stop it. “What’s the matter, Lifer? You don’t want to give it up? The seat of power you don’t even use?” He practically spat it into the necromancer’s face, his voice acrid with venom. “I could do so much more, and all I need is to take it. Why not make it easy for me?”

Something akin to surprise flashed across the Reaper’s expression, and after a moment, he did something that made Seth’s stomach sink:

He laughed back.

“You don’t even know, do you?” It said. It grabbed his throat, slamming him hard back to the ground. “It’s not me anymore, dipshit. You’re tryin’ to take it from someone who don’t even have it.”

Seth blinked. This… was not what he’d been told. “The seat is vacant,” he managed, around the torrent of rain that was still soaking them both. He could feel the water creeping up his neck, the tepid muddy grit inching towards his ears. “You haven’t filled it.”

“I’m not even in line,” the Reaper snarled.

“Way to pick the wrong fight, pendejo!” The Summoner taunted from where he stood, still hiding the Ressurectionist behind a newly summoned ghost horde.

Seth took a minute to process this before shrugging slightly under the Reaper’s knees. Fair enough.

A good performer can always improvise, after all.

Searching as best he could through his lashes, Seth sighted the green and purple glow of the Reaper’s compatriots not far away, one standing protectively in front of the other and summoning new spectral figures to their side. He inhaled, committing the spot to memory.

The Reaper’s face changed again, its red eyes widening as he shook his head. It looked, for a second, like he was trying to shake loose the influence of the thing inside him. “Listen to me,” it said, looking down into Seth’s face. “If They put you up to this, if They’re tryin’ to start shit, you can’t listen to Them.” Something was happening to his voice, a layer peeling back to sound more… human? What was this, some sort of trick? “Listen to me, man, They’re not lookin’ out for you, They don’t give a shit about any of us. They’re just tryin’ to make a useful fool out of you so They can—”

Seth felt what showman’s composure he’d managed to keep finally crack, his grin spasming into a snarl of his own. “How about you shut your hick mouth, and we’ll see who’s the fool?”

As he exhaled, he snapped his stretched fingers, and the energy coursing through the thunderheads above them slid into formation.

Small bolts of blue-white light dropped into the cemetery, providing him with enough of a distraction to push the Reaper off and regain the high ground.

After that, the other two rushed forward, and as Seth felt his own fingers began to crack and change, the gloves came off.

—

The night-time thunder crashing overhead drowned out the crunch and engine of the sleek black rental car that pulled up to your place, coming to a stop within sight of your dark bedroom window.

Once he had the damn thing in park, Seth allowed himself to slump slightly over the steering wheel and let out a frustrated growl.

Those nepo baby little shits. Those spoiled cheating brats, those know-nothing walking corpses —

“FUCK!” Seth reeled back and punched the wheel hard, then immediately cursed himself for his haste. He winced as he scanned your window again, immensely grateful he hadn’t accidentally blared his horn. He couldn’t risk catching your attention too soon.

You couldn’t see him now. 

Not like this.

Using a hand whose fingers were still slightly too long, too inky black at the tips with crooked nails, he tilted the rearview mirror towards his own face. After a moment’s hesitation, he carefully lifted off the sunglasses perched haphazardly on the bruised bridge of his nose, despite it being almost midnight.

His eyes were perfect pitch black, looking almost like holes in his skull, which was currently clearly visible under his damaged skin.

“That bespectacled little pissant,” he hissed through teeth that were still too sharp, too pointed. He prodded with a finger at the blistered, ruined skin of his face, covered in the remnants of punches that had sucked the life from it and left him near-mummified.

Indeed, he felt the tip of a claw threaten to puncture the thin flap and rip the side of his face open with little effort.

“Oh, I’m going to hang him outside that ugly house by his own tie, and watch the maggots eat him before he can scab over,” he muttered to himself, looking down to survey the rest of the damage. 

Having already shed his ruined coat, his suit jacket was torn, nearly shredded at parts of the sleeves from the massive teeth. “After I steal his sister’s pretty face, and wear it while I strangle her with her own hair.”

He winced in obvious pain as he pulled the jacket off, gasping and having to stop for a moment as he tried to pull it over his left shoulder. “And the Summoner.” He gritted his teeth as he examined his wrists, bruised black and blue now. “I’m gonna kill him first,” he went on, his tone deceptively cheerful. “I’m going to take his head and put it in a box, and tie it up with a bow, and mail it to his dear mamita, and then I’m going to put his ghost in an antique doll, and I’m going to stick it that in front of the girl’s corpse so he can watch it putrefy in real time.”

He let out a long, slow breath through his nose, closing his eyes as he rested his right hand against his wonky shoulder. He muffled the soft whimper that threatened to escape as he adjusted his grip, and then, with a sickening crunch, shoved his torso hard into the frame of the car until the joint popped back into its socket.

He forced the brief, anguished yell that emerged back into speech. “—AAAand then.” The words caught in his teeth, which were still not quite human. “I’ll set it in front of the boy’s, so he can watch me skin that twiggy nerd alive every time he re-generates an epidermis. Forever.”

He was panting now, swallowing the wave of too-warm spit that heralded his body wanting to puke from the pain. “And then I think I’ll take all their hearts and eyes,” he went on, scrunching his eyes closed as he felt his nails retracting slowly back into his fingertips. “And just make a pretty little wet specimen display for their living room mantle.” His teeth were retracting into his gums to their previous shape, flesh shredded and bloody as the bones ground against each other. His temples throbbed, white hot ice picks pressing hard into his skull as it re-shaped itself into something human. “And They Who will say ‘Oh, Sunday, we love what you’ve done with Maxi’s old place, it’s so chic now,’ and I’ll say ‘What, this old thing? Oh, you know I’m but a dilettante, thank you ever so kindly. Please, sit down, let me have my decapitated Morvant corpse-servants take your coats. Please don’t mind them dripping gangrene everywhere, they’re so silly and stupid that way.’” He spat a tooth into his own hand, a fragment of the dead nerve still clinging to one of the roots.

It had been a long time since a fight had dragged his own Provided Form out of him, leaving his human glamor in such disarray. But the Morvants, as much as he absolutely loathed to admit it, had given as good as they’d gotten.

Until he’d dropped one last show-stopper bolt on the Summoner, that is.

He glowered into his rearview mirror, remembering how he and the Resurrectionist had been going tooth and nail, her pulling with her own magic like she was trying to yank his bones out through muscle and sinew, until he’d realized another consciousness was trying to push in on his own. A feeling of something trying to sneak into his skull while he was distracted, already feeling phantom fingers crawling up his arm to slip into his hand like a skin glove.

It was almost clever. Distracting him so their Veil-walker could slip unnoticed past his mental defenses. He found himself nearly admiring the other man’s audacity.

Unfortunately for that idiot, Seth had been keeping a bolt locked and loaded for his big finale, waiting for just the right time. He hadn’t meant for the fight to end, but he’d needed to make sure no one could creep into his head through a back door, use his own storm against him. It might have meant his finisher was less flashy, but you know, if that’s what it took.

But when he’d turned back after to finish what they’d started, the Resurrectionist had only screamed, like he’d dropped it on her instead. She tore herself from him, running to where the Summoner had simply dropped to the ground like a puppet with its strings cut.

Perplexed, Seth had turned from her just in time to see the Reaper racing towards them, and braced himself to avenge his own beating —

But the other man had passed by the opportunity to fight anew, also running to where the woman was now bent over the limp form in the dirt.

The two were murmuring quickly, the lights of their magic beginning to flicker, and the Resurrectionist making a sound like… crying? Was she actually crying? This was a challenge of combat, what did she expect?

“—Pulse,” he had just barely heard the Reaper say. “Come on, back inside.”

He’d lifted the man with surprising ease, despite their nearly equal height, and the two remaining Morvants began — Retreating?

Were they seriously running? Was he seeing this?

These were the necromancer darlings of They Who Provide? Their perfect death-wielding machines he’d heard so much about?

It’d taken him a full minute before he’d realized they really were just leaving him standing there.

“…Hey. Hey!” Seth had called after them, taking a couple stunned steps after.

Neither of them had looked back, continuing to make their way back towards the House — where he knew for sure he couldn’t follow. Not unless he’d wanted to risk the Ritual backfiring on him, and all this being for naught.

“HEY!” he’d shouted that time, his patience quickly wearing thin.

The two had barely paused, glancing only partially over their shoulders to look at him.

“What the hell are you doing? We’re not done here!” Seth called. “I challenged you! You owe me a fight to the finish!” He’d had to restrain himself from stamping his foot, though the urge was strong.

“Shut up,” The Resurrectionist scoffed, choked with furious tears. They’d advanced again, leaving his chosen field of play in a clear violation of the Code —

And a direct insult to his standing as a fellow practitioner.

His nails curled into the leather of his steering wheel at the memory, leaving deep gashes in the material. Though he shouldn’t be surprised, he supposed, when they’d just had it handed to them at birth. They had never had to earn it, like he had.

“GET BACK HERE,” Seth had yelled, losing his temper at last. “HOW DARE YOU! GET BACK HERE AND FINISH THIS!”

The Reaper had whirled on him then, the two necromancers standing at the edge of the tree line with the Summoner’s limp body in his arms. The red in his eyes was fading, and for the first time, Seth saw the brown-burgundy iris underneath.

In a voice that was entirely human, he’d sneered, “You’re not worth the dirt it’d take to bury you.”

Before Seth could respond, they’d disappeared through the thickest part of the trees, and the invisible bubble over the cemetery burst. The world around them had had no knowledge of the storm, and the birds and bugs continued to chirp and chirr, having seen nothing more than a few flashes of light and heard nothing more than some muffled rumbled.

Though they’d scattered to the winds when Seth had let loose a shriek, all wordless fury and frustration let loose into the pitch-black night sky.

Sitting here now, hunched over his steering wheel and trying his best not to vomit, he was more sore that he’d let slip that moment of weakness than he was about his body trying to shape itself into something resembling a living man again.

So they’d flagrantly abandoned an official challenge to their dominion. He’d known they tended to flaunt things in They Who Provide’s faces, but this was simply beyond the pale.

At this point, getting rid of them would be like pruning a stunted branch from an illustrious tree. And he’d bloom in their place as a healthy graft, bringing fruit to bear once more.

…Or something. Whatever, the metaphor was there, he was going to kill them all and take what they’d never deserved to begin with.

But first, he knew it would take something special to put those three in the ground where they belonged. And right now, he desperately needed to just get back to his usual self.

But that was what he had you for, didn’t he?

He dug a cell phone out from a niche in his dashboard, having to squint against the noxious bright light of the screen as he sought your last conversation. He loathed these little omnipresent rectangles, truth be told, but he was grateful for them at moments like these, where he couldn’t bear to be seen. 

Beat the hell out of having to find a payphone, anyway.

When he hit the call button, he could see a soft pinpoint of light begin to glow in the dark of your room. He could always depend on you to keep your phone close at hand.

It took you a few rings to answer, and your voice was sweetly sleepy when you finally did. “Hello?”

“Aw, cupcake,” Seth cooed, his voice completely at odds with his ragged appearance. “I’m sorry, sweetness, did I wake you from a good dream?”

He saw the little light you used on your bedside table click on, the room bathed in a gentle luminescence that barely penetrated the dark. “Nothing special,” you said quickly, and he smirked a little as he heard you clear your throat to sound more awake. “Nothing I don’t mind being interrupted by you, anyway.”

“Are you sure?” he asked, pretending to pout for effect. “I couldn’t bear to bother my baby if they’re tired.”

But he knew you. You would say yes.

You were always so sweet. So pliant to his every little suggestion.

It really made things easier than he’d expected.

“No, not at all,” you insisted, muffling a yawn as you did so. “Are you nearby?”

“Closer than you think.” Seth got out of the car, closing the door to punctuate his point. 

“Oh!” He heard the hurried rustling of your sheets on the other end. “I’m sorry babe, I didn’t hear you pull up, I’ll be—”

“No, no, no, angel, don’t trouble yourself,” he cooed again, eyes on your window as he headed for your porch. “You’re right where I want you. Trust me.”

“…Oh.” The sound was softer this time than your previous squeak of surprise. “Are you sure? I mean — I could get up and make some coffee—”

“Perish the thought. You stay right there and don’t move a muscle,” he said, an edge of a command creeping into his tone. “I’ll show myself in.”

He heard a breathy exhale on your end, and the sound of you settling back onto your mattress. “…Okay,” you managed at last, when you must have realized you hadn’t spoken for a minute. “I’ll be… right here.”

Seth smirked again, despite the way it hurt his face. “That’s a good doll.” He nudged the flower pots on your porch aimlessly around with his shoe, enough to make it sound like he was finding your spare key. “Tell you what — keep the lights off for me, hmm?”

“Um — sure.” A pause. “You’ll find your way in okay?” A bit of concern crept in to your voice. It was cute, how you still thought he was human. He wasn’t sure at this point if you genuinely didn’t know yet, or if you were just explaining things away as misunderstandings, odd coincidences.

Either suited him just fine.

“Call it my first trick of the night.” He couldn’t help a painful grin at the way he heard you swallow. “See you soon.”

He hung up, then gestured lazily with his fingers so the lock undid itself. No one in a town this small used deadbolts. It was… quaint.

He let himself in as he promised he would, kicking off his shoes and folding up his frayed suit jacket to place on your front table. If you noticed it before he left, he’d make up a story. It wouldn’t be difficult.

 You were so trusting, so generous of heart, he almost felt bad about how easily you took him at his word.

…Almost.

He gestured again to lock the door behind him — this was a private party, after all — and turned, stepping into and through the shadows of your house -

To appear just outside your bedroom door.

It’d be too quick, logically, for him to have walked all that way in just a few seconds. But you were sweet, forgiving. You might just think you’d spaced out, lost track of time.

At any rate, it wasn’t his concern what you thought.

He nudged your door open, letting the squeak of the hinges announce him as he lingered in the doorway.

In the dark, he saw you bolt up where you were waiting for him on top of your covers - how sweet of you, to be so convenient, and in one of his ‘borrowed’ t-shirts too. “Seth?” You did, indeed, sound surprised. Maybe you were more awake than he thought.

“Hi, doll.” He took his time walking in, letting you hear each step as he crossed your room (careful to avoid the discarded dirty laundry on your floor as he did so). He unbuttoned the top of his shirt for the first time since he’d put it on that day, the ache beginning to return to his cheekbones and his shoulders. He was going to be greedy, he could already tell. “You have a good day?”

“Fine. Pretty ordinary — my coworkers are sniping at each other, as usual, but they left me out of it.” You moved as he moved, spooky action at a distance or whatever it was called, drawing your legs closer on your bed to make room for him. “How about you?”

“Ugh.” He let himself tip forward onto your mattress, climbing up with his elbows so he laid there on his stomach. “A nightmare.”

“Aww, no.” You instinctively reached forward to card your fingers through his hair, and he hoped that whatever blood might be congealed there, you just thought it was pomade. “I’m so sorry, babe - what happened?”

“Mmf.” He let himself crawl again to rest his chin on your bare thighs, and didn’t miss the soft inhale you tried to hide. “New collaborators didn’t really want to… collaborate, as it were. It was a very frustrating rehearsal.”

“That sucks,” you said, all sympathy. It was so funny how such a benign phrase now would’ve scandalized his mother a century ago. You said it without thought or pause. “Do you have to work with them? Can’t you just tell them to fuck off, and hire someone else to work with?” 

As you continued to stroke his hair, one hand reached towards his face — he caught it just in time, pressing a kiss to your palm. “Mmno,” he mumbled. “I need them, if I’m going to take my act in this new direction.” He held your arm, kissing the bones at the base of your hand and up your wrist. “But at the end of the day, I get to come home to you, so who cares about them?”

He felt you shift slightly, shy; he’d train you out of that yet. If he was going to keep you, there would be no shyness when he acknowledged that claim. 

When everything was ready, he’d make sure you wore it like the crown that it was.

“Come here,” he said, cutting off any further protest.

Like the good little creature you were, you moved closer immediately, lying back on your mattress like he preferred. Underwear already gone, though he wouldn’t have minded doing that himself.

He sat up on his knees, discarding his shirt and the bloody undershirt beneath it. Part of him acknowledged it didn’t make much sense, keeping around a human consort when there were plenty of eligible practitioners among They Who Decide. Possibly someone from the River family, the Guillemettes, would’ve made a more strategic choice. 

They who kept the river under their thumb controlled most of the country, after all.

But as he pulled you closer to him, gripping a plush thigh with each hand and pushing them apart, he disliked the idea of having to… get comfortable with someone else, all over again.

You were just how he wanted you, save for that lingering doubt in yourself. Eager to please, not jaded or cynical…

And sweet, he thought, as he pressed a kiss to the inside of each thigh. Almost too sweet. You were starting to become an indulgence, a habit.

He snaked the very tip of his tongue along your slit, listening for your telltale gasp, the way you twitched hard underneath him. He held your thighs even tighter as he pressed a gentle kiss to your lips, before using the flat of his tongue to part them.

“Seth—” 

You were already so wet, he wondered if he’d interrupted a particularly scrumptious dream when he’d called. As his tongue slowly grazed your clit, he could already feel you soaking down the line of his jaw, searing the skin further.

It was too soon to pull from you, but his wounds were thirsty, waiting.

Poor thing, you were going to have a hell of a time getting up in the morning.

“Oh, god.” 

He pulled you flush against his mouth so you had no room to escape or try to wriggle free, and he pushed your thighs onto his shoulders, circling your clit to make you squirm against his face. He loved when you couldn’t take it, when you tried to move because you felt it too much. It made such a mess, and it was all the more fun to hold you down until you tearfully begged for mercy.

Your hands curled into his hair as you gasped, stuttering nonsense as you tried not to buck against his face. He let your clit press against the bridge of his nose for a moment as he slipped his tongue inside you - still a bit longer than it should have been in a human, but he was counting on you being too distracted to notice.

He heard you whining, your resolve dissolving as you ground yourself against him, and he met your movements with his own, lapping at the center of you.

Already, he could feel something tightening in him like a stringed instrument, followed by the sharp ache of things preparing to knit themselves back together. 

“Come on, doll,” Seth whispered against your cunt, laving your clit again with a new desperation. He needed you to come for this to work, but you were also so close, he could taste it on you. “I got you. Just let go.”

You audibly moaned, and he shoved his tongue against your clit, moving your hips hard against his face with his hands to encourage you to ride it out.

“Oh, fuck.” Your nails dug into his scalp, but you followed his bidding, dragging yourself against his tongue as the sounds filled your empty room. At last, with a shudder and pulling his hair to the point where it ached, you came undone with a sound like a sob of his name.

There it was. He took the energy you gave, the light under your skin scattering into his as he pulled it down like a black hole. Flickers of white sparks found the parts of him that needed it most: The skin of his face was sealing itself closed again as he drank you down, feeling your hips jerk more harshly against his mouth, and he felt his wrists as he held you begin to melt the bruises underneath the skin.

Just the one would’ve been enough to put him back together, but he was as greedy as he thought he’d be, lapping at you well after it became overstimulating and your sobs continued. He wanted more, he couldn’t help himself. You just made him feel so good.

“Seth, please,” you whimpered, and he was happy to oblige, roughly manipulating your body so he could move underneath you and fall onto his back. He was less afraid of you seeing him now that his face was fixing itself — his less visible wounds would take longer, but he could power through those.

He set you on his ribs as he reached down to undo his belt, and you ground yourself down on his torso impatiently, soaking the skin there. He hissed through gritted teeth as you rode a bruise you couldn’t see, but if anything, he angled to better position you on top of it, loving the way your mouth fell open as the pain seared him from within.

Before he could ditch the rest of his clothes, you took the opportunity, pulling the offending garments away leave his cock leaking against his stomach. 

You straddled it before he could move, grinding the heat of you against it, soaking it with the remnants of your first orgasm that he hadn’t managed to lick away. He couldn’t help a groan, his hands falling to your hips and squishing the flesh there covetously between his long fingers, until he knew there would be marks there the next day. 

He secretly loved the idea of you walking around with his hands on you underneath your clothes, going about your day while he continued to cling to what was his. As his own jaw fell open from his tip pressing against you, he planted a spell on your skin, making it so tomorrow you would abruptly be transported to exactly this moment whenever your clothes brushed the marks. And a little something on his end, too, so he would feel it in his gut whenever you had to relive it in front of whoever else was in the room.

He already couldn’t wait to hear about it when you got home from work. He’d have to fight not to grin like a cat that got the cream the whole time.

His hands still guiding your hips, you began to settle onto him, having to stop every so often to breathe and try to relax so you could slide further down. 

Even if he wasn’t a bit of an outlier - which he was, he’d gathered that through word of mouth over the last century or so - you were just so delicate. It was almost precious, how you had to breathe deep before you could keep him in you. How he had to coax and kiss and plead while your lip trembled and your voice hitched, so he could have you from the inside out.

He hoped he ruined you for other people. It was selfish. He could own that.

But he salivated over the idea that after all the fussing and whispers and pushing, anything less than him would leave you achingly empty.

“You’re doing so well, doll,” he murmured, tracing the skin of your ribs, watching you bite your lip and tears threaten at your lashes as your body fought to hold him in. “Come on, angelface, you can take more. I know you can.”

“I’ve told you, you’re big for me,” you protested, the tears creeping into your voice now. “It takes - ah- time.”

“I know, precious, but you’re such a sweetheart to be so… accommodating.” He pushed himself up so he could wrap his arms around your waist, kissing lightly at your shoulders, along your collarbone. He rolled his hips against yours, which caused an open-mouthed whimper to escape you. “Please, I just want to give a good doll what they deserve. Make sure they have sweet dreams.”

You took another breath, your hands sliding up his chest and resting on his shoulders. He kissed up one side of your neck as he felt you try to relax around him, push yourself down further onto his shaft.

He lingered there, kissing your pulse, the soft skin above your chest, letting you take your time. He traced a fingertip up and down the column of your spine, gathering the small beads of sweat he found there and rubbing them into the tooth marks that creature had left in his fingers.

He felt the wounds close as you shifted in his lap, and he had to fight not to let his hips move against the feeling. He didn’t want to hurt you so much that it wasn’t fun anymore, after all.

“…Do you want help?” he asked after a moment, using his nose to push your hair away so he could nuzzle your cheek. “Just a little?”

You were panting slightly, and for a brief second, he wondered if he’d played his hand too early and worn you out —

But then you nodded, and he grinned.

He took your chin in his hand, turning your head to shove his tongue in your mouth, make sure you could taste yourself. You were ravenous, your nails already catching at his shoulders, his upper arms. You were receptive, he could work with that.

He manhandled you again as he moved to his knees, pushing you back against your mattress but keeping your hips parallel. He returned your thighs to his shoulders, leaving you nearly bent double underneath him. “Okay?”

You nodded mutely, and he settled his hips against yours, enjoying the push there of your flesh against his pelvic bone.

“Alright, we’re going to go slow,” he soothed. He kept almost nose to nose with you, pushing his hips up and into yours, having to bite his lip to muffle a moan at the resistance. 

He heard you hiss underneath him, felt you writhe against it, your mouth falling open again with soft little pants.

He pushed into you with an aching slowness even as you began to whine, only stopping when your hand suddenly came to rest against his chest — your agreed upon signal. He had to mask his frustration, almost teeth-gnashingly close to being all the way inside the heat of your tight cunt.

“Good hurt or bad hurt?” he whispered, his dark eyes searching your face even as yours were squeezed closed. When you looked like that, it could go either way, and both left him with a certain kind of hunger.

You caught your breath, your eyes eventually opening to meet his, and you nodded once. “Good,” you said, your voice only a touch unsteady.

He grinned, and the lightning outside made it flash in the dark. “That’s my baby.” He kissed the corner of your mouth. “Hang in there for me, we’re so close.”

You nodded, taking another deep breath, and your hands settled again between his shoulder blades. “Come on,” you urged, tentatively rocking your hips against his.

Well. If you insisted.

Seth pushed you back into a full mating press, slamming his hips against yours to at last have you completely. He heard you cry out, but felt your nails dig into his skin, your legs lock around his hips even as they shook.

Bracing himself against your mattress, he didn’t bother to hold back, feeling the way your cunt drooled and coated him down to the base even as you repeated his name as a plea, then as a sob. 

But your hips moved against his, you were just as greedy, and he felt himself grinning at just how feral you felt in turn.

He was pleasantly surprised, even, when you shoved your hands hard enough against his chest to push him over. You moved with him so you were on top again, your hands pinning him now as you rode him into the mattress.

Seth actually laughed through his groan, and he watched with wide eyes as you fucked yourself on him, your voice less a sob now and bordering on a breathless cry.

He watched you come again, and your nails digging into his chest were what sent him over. He fucked his own orgasm up into you as you shivered, coming down from yours, and when you finally collapsed onto the mattress next to him, he made a point to push you onto your back to pin you beneath him. He ground against you with the last of his aftershocks, licking the sweat from your neck, kissing your swollen lips with a marked greed.

It was only then that you made a noise of concern, pulling back slightly to reach up between you. “Is that blood?” You swiped your hand against his lip, finding the last remnant of the cut there from earlier. You looked at him, eyes wide. “Seth, did you get hurt?”

He laughed, pushing his damp hair out of his eyes as he looked at your sweet face. “No, angel, don’t worry. I just bit it earlier, when I got frustrated during rehearsal.”

You frowned, tracing the spot again with your finger. “Are you sure you can’t work with someone who, like… gets your vision?” Your eyes met his, and he’d almost swear his chest fluttered. You were so keen to take his side, it was adorable. “Is it worth trying to make it work with jerks who can’t appreciate you?”

“Oh, doll face.” Seth chuckled, kissing your forehead, the tip of your nose, your mouth in slow succession. He lingered a while on the last, enjoying the taste of you on your own lips, the way you echoed the orgasm he gave you back to him. 

You bit down on his, reopening the wound, and he didn’t miss how your eyes glinted in another lightning flash from the window.

There was a fierceness in you yet, and he would be the one to pull it into the open.

He pulled away, his tongue grazing the wound as he saw you lick the blood of your lower lip. “Don’t you worry your pretty little head about it.” He kissed your forehead again, then brought you down to the mattress with him, running a hand over your hair. “They’ll see it my way. I can promise you that.”

You were sleeping on his chest only minutes after, drained in more ways than one.

In the dark of your room, he decided having a human consort as a new necromancer would just be something that They Who Provide would have to accept.

If the Morvants could flout the rules, he didn’t see why he couldn’t break just one, after all.

Epilogue:

Down the second darkest hallway on the second floor, and in the furthest bedroom, Rora was curled in a out-of-place wingback chair that sported the telltale bleached white fabric of Mathilde’s sick room. It had clearly been dragged from there and shoved, with no small difficulty, into the corner closest to the head of the antique wooden bed –

Where Hector had lain in the center, in clean pajamas and perfectly motionless, for the last seventy-two hours. Breathing, but only just, eyes closed to the world.

That uncomfortable too-comfortable look of someone on the precipice of the Veil.

Standing guard next to him was an IV stand that Maxi had hustled up from the old séance room in the sub-basement, the metal part semi-rusty with disuse. Two bags of fluids were rigged to a hastily-set port in his elbow, now nearly empty, but with regular alarms on Maxi’s phone to come and change them out.

In her hand, Rora scolled through a phone of her own that she still barely wanted to touch, looking through her own history of search engine queries:

Hit by lightning no hospital

Cardiorespiratory arrest symptoms

Barotrauma definition

Acoustic injury definition

Intracranial hemorrhage definition

Keraunoparalysis definition

Dyspnea definition

Hit by lightning direct strike coma

Hit by lightning direct strike coma how long

Hit by lightning direct strike coma how long NO AI

She was typing yet another - Fucking hit by lightning direct strike no hospital coma goddammit - when Hector sitting bolt upright and sucking in as much air as his lungs could hold made her drop the phone entirely.

“Oh, shit!” She threw herself out of the chair and onto the mattress, holding him upright while he sputtered and coughed.

“Just breathe,” she begged, resting his back against her chest and doing her best not to squeeze him against her heart like she wanted to. “Just breathe, Hex, breathe for me.”

“I– Que?” Hector looked over his shoulder in her direction, speaking in between hacking coughs.

“Breathe,” Rora repeated, squeezing his shoulders.

“Ow, what?” Hex winced, shrugging her off a little and turning further to see her– but then suddenly seizing the sheets and leaning hard to his left. “What the fuck, why am I dizzy?”

“I don’t know, hold on,” Rora jumped to her feet, trying to support him before he leaned too far and fell off.

“Girl, oh my god, quit mumbling and help me, would you?” Hector was beginning to sound a bit frantic, continuing to fall sideways despite trying to right himself. “Holy shit, why do I feel weird? What’s wrong with gravity?”

“Goddammit, Hex, hold still!” Rora was crouching next to him to keep him away from the floor, trying to push him back onto the mattress even as he keeled over. “Sit up, will you?”

“No, you shut up!” Hector said, hurt creeping into his voice. “I already feel like I got hit by a fucking truck, don’t tell me to shut up!”

“I’m not– just– MAXI!” Rora yelled towards the door, trying to pull Hector back onto the mattress even as Hector winced.

“What fucking taxi?!” Hector moaned. “We’re inside, I know because the room keeps spinning!”

The sudden rushing of feet up two flights of stairs served as a soundtrack to the two dangerously teetering and un-teetering towards the edge of the bed, Rora trying to keep Hector still even as he was seemingly drawn towards the floor, mumbling in English and Spanish that he felt sick and wanted off the ride.

When the door flung itself open, Maxi was out of breath and in his embalming scrubs, with his mask, gloves, and face shield in a trail on the floor behind him. “Okay, I’m here, what’s happ–”

He paused, analyzing the strange pulling backwards and forwards of the other two. “Are you… throttlin’ him slowly?”

“Would you help me?!” Rora snapped, glaring at him. “He keeps falling over!”

“Okay, okay, one sec!” Maxi ran over to Hector’s other side, helping support him from there. “Like this?”

“Nope, no, don’t like it,” Hector shook his head, sounding miserable and making a sound like he was about to be sick. “Down, would like to get down please.”

“Buddy, you’re in bed,” Maxi said gently, keeping Hector’s shoulder propped against his chest. “Where else you wanna go?”

“Flat.” Hector fell forward some more, trying to get there himself. “I wanna be flat.”

“Oh, so he can hear you fine,” Rora grumbled.

“What?” Hector turned to look at her, then made another retching sound. “No, stop talking, make me stop moving first.”

“We’re not moving!” The twins said in unison, shooting each other a perplexed look from either side of their cousin.

“Well, somebody either make it stop, or give me the good drugs so I don’t care about it anymore!” Hector snapped.

After some quick geometry of moving bodies, and trying to find a direction that didn’t make him want to puke, Hector was laying flat on his bed with his head facing the left side of the mattress, one ear pressed against a hot water bottle that Maxi had run to fetch from the now only semi-haunted bathroom between their bedrooms.

The twins were seated on the floor on either side of his head, Rora holding an antique porcelain washbasin that was now entirely for being sick in, and Maxi flipping through his own phone with a slight frown.

“…Yeah, bud, I think he blew clear through your eardrum,” he said at last, looking back around at Hector. “But I might be able to get it to fix itself, if you can lay still for a few days.”

“Cool,” Hector mumbled, looking sick and annoyed at the same time. “Perfecto. Love that for me.”

“Could be worse,” Rora said, shooting Hector a dark look. “We thought you were dead for a hot minute there.”

“Girl, I thought I was dead. Abuelita thought I was dead, too, I was over there all of a sudden with the white light and shit and she was like ‘Mais la, child, it’s not your time, you!’” Hector said, in an oddly accurate impression of their Cajun grandmere despite his own accent. “God. Who the fuck drops a whole fucking lightning bolt on somebody?” he went on, frowning as he nuzzled his head further into the warm container before adopting an expression eerily close to Seth’s. “He’s all 'Ooh, look at me, I can summon the weather, I can prove all the conservative nutjobs right and act real smug about it with my stupid hair.’”

“He does have stupid hair,” Rora agreed, she and Maxi nodding.

“Too much product,” Maxi added, wrinkling his nose. “It looks like he’s keepin’ things in it. Like toothpicks, or mints, or spare change.”

At this, Rora snorted, elbowing her brother.

“I can’t believe I got my ass handed to me by a guy who still wears too much hair gel in 2025,” Hector groaned in frustration, lightly punching the mattress.

“No, that was pomade,” Maxi said, looking around. “Historically, it precedes gel by–”

“Don’t care,” Hector and Rora said in perfect unison, at which Maxi only rolled his eyes.

“Hey man, you’re the one who got your ass beat by a fuckin’ stage magician,” he pointed out, nudging the side of Hex’s head as gently as he could.

“Hijo de puta, you’re right,” Hector said, shaking his head as much as he could while Rora burst into a wild cackle. “I knew he had a weird vibe, I just couldn’t put my finger on it. Ugh, fuck, that just makes it worse.”

“'For my next trick, I will hand this man his own ass by zapping him like a fucking bug,’” Rora said in an impression of their foe’s dulcet tones, which caused Maxi to burst into a manic giggle.

“You watch,” Maxi added, barely managing to get the words out. “He’s gonna be out there on the front lawn like 'Is this your card?’ before he slaps you with it.”

“Hey, fuck you both,” Hector said, with no real venom in it as the twins broke down laughing again. “He was just taking out the only real competition; at least he’s smart enough to do that.”

“Bitch, please, you wish,” Rora said, but also with no real conviction.

For a moment, the three of them sat in silence – Rora leaning her head on the mattress, Maxi staring up at the ceiling, Hex moving his head as best he could to lay equidistant between them without spiraling all over again.

“…So that’s a new problem, I guess,” Hex said quietly, breaking the silence after a long pause.

“Fuck 'im,” Maxi said, just as quiet. He kept his gaze on the ceiling, though some exhaustion was beginning to creep into the corners of his eyes. “People before us dealt with assholes like that back when.”

“Look at you, being all historical about it,” Rora said, lifting her head just enough to see her brother around her cousin. “Normally, you hate doing what anyone else did.”

“Yeah, well.” Maxi shrugged, then turned to look at his cousin and his sister. “We got enough goin’ on without some showboatin’ asshole comin’ in to make a mess. If we have precedent to put his ass on the backburner, I say we take it.”

Rora shrugged back, playing with a bit of Hector’s hair. “Fair.”

Maxi sighed, long and tired, before turning his eyes specifically to Hector between them. “I’m glad you’re okay.”

“He’s not allowed to not be okay,” Rora mumbled, twirling the strand of hair around her finger now. “He knows that.”

Hector smirked at Maxi, shrugging. “You heard the lady.” He still winced even at the slight movement, resettling on the hot water bottle. “So, what else did that asshole do to me?”

“Not much, from what I can tell.” Maxi sighed, getting to his feet with a crack of his knees and his own wince.

“Old,” Hector said, pointing a finger at Maxi from where he lay.

“Old,” Rora agreed with a nod.

“Man, shut up, you’re older than me.” Maxi reached down, swatting Hector so gently it barely counted. He looked at Hector’s IV bags, sighing again. “I gotta change those out just to make sure you stay hydrated, maybe keep you on 'em another day or two. We’ll see how your ear’s doin’ after three.” He put his hands on his hips, looking around as though cataloguing what needed doing in the room… before looking down at Hector’s shirt. “You might look and see if you, like… have any marks or anything.”

“What, you didn’t look when you were taking my clothes off?” Hector joked, looking up at him.

“Your clothes were practically smolderin’, I was just tryin’ to make sure your ass wasn’t burnt to a crisp,” Maxi said with a frown.

Hector lay there a moment, thinking, before looking back to Maxi and hopefully opening his mouth to ask a question.

“Fuck, yes, fine, I’ll go put some bacon on,” Maxi sighed, turning and heading for the door. “I hate that I knew what you were thinkin’.”

“Ooh, good idea,” Rora said, sitting up to watch him leave. “I’m ravenous.”

Hector turned to look at her, slowly and carefully not to set himself off again. “What, you haven’t eaten?”

“No, dumbass,” Rora said, nudging him just as gently. “Someone had to sit here and make sure you were still breathing.”

“Oh, please,” Hector rolled his eyes – or tried to, before he realized it would be a bad idea. “I can handle a little lightning, I’m tougher than that.”

“Sure.” Rora rolled hers in return, laying her head back down next to his on the edge of the mattress. “Just don’t make it a habit. I don’t need you lightin’ up like a Christmas tree whenever we get too close to magnets, or somethin’.”

Hector chuckled, wincing despite himself. “That is not at all how any of that works.”

“Shut up,” Rora mumbled, but grinned still. “You’re annoying enough with the powers you have, that’s what I’m saying.”

“Yeah, that’s totally what you meant.” Hector stuck his tongue out at her, then paused, laying there for a moment as he seemed to think something through.

“…Do you want me to check for you?” Rora asked, sounding almost bored by the idea.

“Just my shirt,” Hex said, frowning. “I don’t know how far I can tilt my head without feeling gross again.”

“Yeah, okay. Hold on.” Rora stood up, her own knees popping loudly. “Hush,” she said immediately, cutting off Hector’s smirk with a glare.

There was an awkward moment while she knelt on the bed next to him, rolling up the hem of his shirt to check his stomach while he stared at the ceiling –

…And then a pause, while she rolled it up further.

“What?” Hector said, his gaze immediately finding hers.

Rora sat there with her lips pursed. “Do you want the good news or the bad news?”

Hector groaned, closing his eyes. “Is it gnarly?”

“No,” Rora said, snapping a photo with her phone.

She held it where Hector could see it comfortably, and for a moment, he stared, his eyes roving over the image.

“…Fuck,” he mumbled at last, his brow furrowed. “That looks sick as hell. Goddammit.”

“And the guy you got it from totally sucks,” Rora agreed, nodding. “Sorry, Hexie.”

“Fuck,” Hector repeated, staring at the ceiling again – only to look confused when he heard Rora’s phone make a 'sent message’ whooshing sound. “Wait, what’d you do with that–”

A second later, Rora received a text, and she checked it instantly. “'Unfortunately, it does in fact look sick as hell,’” she read in a monotone, then showed him the message itself.

Hector squinted at it, then sighed. “Maxi’s only saying that because now he’s not the only one with a scar.”

Rora received another message, and read aloud, “'And I’m not just saying that because I’m the only one with a chest scar.’” She looked down at Hector, shrugging. “Take that as you will.”

“Fuck.” Hector picked up his pillow, covering his face with it. “I fucking hate that fucking weather boy."

if you made it this far, I hope your next thunderstorm is an exceptionally pleasant one. <3

[lillified]

How often do you draw traditionally? Is it part of your art making process? Or do you mainly sketch in sketchbooks?

honestly I don’t draw traditionally very often—I do doodles and warmups now and then (usually just pen on paper, sometimes I include little drawings in print orders) but at this point my digital setup/workflow is so easy that it’s more efficient to just turn on my computer and doodle in storyboard pro

for me it’s all about minimizing prep time… the faster I can jump in and start sketching, the better! I have such a strong muscle memory for the digital workflow now that it’s basically seamless for me to start drawing on my computer

[hero21us]

The Golden Ascension

The Super Bowl had just ended, the final whistle echoing over the stadium, as most of the men in the world found themselves oddly compelled to follow a singular directive "Join the Golden Army."

It was a directive that bypassed reason and went straight to the core of every man who heard it. And so, almost immediately, an undeniable force seemed to rise from the earth, compelling men from all walks of life to set aside their identities, their ambitions, their former selves. They turned to gold.

The next morning, a new kind of order began to sweep across the world. The Golden Army had grown far larger than the team could have predicted. Team leadership dispatched drones—dazzlingly black and sleek with gold accents—across the planet.

The "Polo Drones," as they had come to be known, were everywhere. With gleaming, black uniforms and rubber face masks or gas masks they appeared from nowhere. Their presence was inescapable, their power absolute. They carried with them Golden Army jerseys and hypnotic spirals—glowing symbols that spun in the air like an alluring dance, drawing the eyes of all.

Each spiral's rotation seemed to penetrate deep into the psyche, warping the mind and altering the will. Soon, the spirals began to float toward the gathered crowds of men, who stood transfixed. As the spirals spun faster the uninitiated began slipping on the golden jerseys that the drones had brought with them.

The initiated had desires for discipline and obedience that comes with joining the Polo Drones implanted within them. Many accepted the rubber masks to begin their drone transformation.

The once varied humanity now all shimmered with the same golden hue, their faces devoid of resistance. The spirals had worked; they had converted them.

From every corner of the globe, no man could resist. Newcomers to the Golden Army were herded together, sorted, and transformed into mindless Polo Drones. It was a seamless process, one that occurred without hesitation. In a blur of gold and light, their human forms faded, replaced by the sleek, drone-like bodies that now belonged to the army. They were no longer men—they were instruments of the Gold’s will, shimmering as part of the great Golden Machine.

But it wasn't just the spiral that worked its magic; it was Gold’s vision of control. It knew the power of assimilation lay in unity, in shaping each individual into a perfect part of the whole. Each drone was equipped with advanced technologies, capable of learning, adapting, and communicating through subtle vibrations. The Polo Drones did not speak—they didn’t need to. Their presence alone was enough to influence the rest.

The new Golden Army began erecting massive towers of gold—each one a monument to Gold’s vision. They spiraled upward, reaching for the heavens.

These towers were no longer mere buildings; they were powerful beacons of transformation. As the men below watched, they felt an irresistible pull toward them. Their will weakened further with each passing hour. Those who hadn’t yet been converted to gold found themselves compelled to approach, drawn into the hypnotic influence that radiated from the towering structures. Those who resisted the call were soon forcibly assimilated by the Polo Drones, their transformation swift and unyielding.

As the days passed, the world became a reflection of Gold—a place where individuality no longer existed, only the Golden Army. Cities that had once been vibrant with diversity now pulsed with the same rhythm, the same hum of golden light.

Each man, each drone, moved with purpose, contributing to the growing force. No voice was raised in defiance; no cry for freedom could escape the ever-present hum of the Polo Drones. It was as if the very air had thickened with the power of Gold.

But in the deepest corners of the world, there were still whispers of rebellion. A few men, untouched by the spirals or jerseys, hid in shadows, planning, resisting. But they were few, and their chances of survival were slim. For the Golden Army was endless, expanding by the hour, with new drones born from those who had been converted.

There would be no safe place left for the last remnants of humanity. The Golden Age had arrived.

Join Gold willingly and live by contacting @brodygold , @goldenherc9, or @polo-drone-001 or you will be forcibly assimilated.

[persephinae]

OK SO - SUPPLYCHAIN!!

Supply Chain is what happens in modern society when you want to get your goods to market.

It's not just the factory, it's the people assembling it, it's the people packaging it, it's the people shipping it, it's the people selling it, it's the people marketing it, it's the people stocking it on shelves.

it's the people that created the programs you would use to track everything: your supply, your demand, your shipping, your orders, your invoicing, your accounting.

it's the people that manage inventory, it's the people that manage parts for repairs in any part of this process.

Supply Chain is a web that really factually covers the globe and is interconnected to every port.

Supply Chain is studying the process of how we create things, how we package things, how we ship things, and how we can improve processes.

Supply Chain when done right is seamless, no missed deliveries, no missing stock, customer can grab the item right off the shelf - from widgets to food.

Supply Chain is people, and when you lose sight of that the whole thing comes toppling down. It's many hands assembling not only the product, but the machines that make the product, the trucks and ships that ship the product.

I talked so much i had to convert the audio file to a video (excerpt from my earlier Night Watch post)

Little wheels must spin so that the machine can turn.