#defrost cycles

[hnkparts]

Whirlpool WPW10643378 Refrigerator Electronic Control Board | HnKParts

[nature-played-a-trick-on-me]

When I shot the first arrow I heard everything in my shoulders crack and crunch lol

[dayandnightphx]

Heat Pump Defrost Cycle

When a heat pump is operating in the heating mode or heat cycle, the outdoor air is relatively cool. The outdoor coil acts as an evaporator, the same way an indoor coil would in the cooling mode. When certain outdoor conditions exist, the outdoor coil can begin to frost or ice. After the system is operating in heating for an extended period of time, the outdoor coil temperature may drop to a level that requires the system to switch into defrost mode in order to remove potential ice and frost build-up. The defrost cycle on your heat pump is activated when the temperature of the outdoor coil drops 32 degrees. At 32 degrees or below, frost can form on the coil which can cause damage if allowed to build up. 

[today-i-am-thinking-about]

the way ice cubes shrink if you leave them in the freezer too long

[elmundodeflor]

And just like that, she’d fallen for him.

Spring. Summer. Autumn. The world had its cycles. There had been peace before war, and peace would come after bloodsheds and battles.

Katara looks at Zuko, at how he stares out to the width in the horizons. The curves of his nose and lips are soft, much like the colors of the leaves around them. The lines of his jaw and cheeks are sharp, in contrast.

He’s a beautiful man; she’s always thought so, even when they were enemies and he’d sworn he’d kill them. She likes it better this way, though— being friends, confidants, long-time companions. Kindness suits him more, either way. She likes how his face looks when he’s calm, — when there’s no rage to contort his scar, no scowl furrowing his brow.

She also likes that he knows her. That they can stand, silence pending between them, and it’s never too tense or uncomfortable. Zuko is just that good to her. He never puts too much pressure on her shoulders, — she’s had enough of that already. Instead, he soothes the rough edges. Lets her make her own choices and never judges her for them.

He looks back at her. An easy smile grazes his features; baffling, tortuous, beautiful. Katara has to fight the urge to freeze some water from her bottle and smash it across her searing face.

“Do you wanna…”, his voice cuts through the wind, raspy as it ever was. When he talks, it’s evident that he’s nervous. That he’s been circling around his thoughts and can’t seem to find the words. “I mean…”, he tries again. “Do you wanna stay here until you decide what to do?”

She hums, then turns her gaze back to the gardens. Aang had asked her to travel the world along with him, — to be by his side and help other people, from other nations and villages. She had yet to give him a proper answer.

It wasn’t that she didn’t want to— go on missions, hear the masses’ suffering and be present in whatever way she could. Maybe, it was that she simply had pictured something different for herself. She could be so much more than just the “Avatar’s girl”! She could go home, lend a useful hand to Sokka and her dad advocating for their tribe. She could be an ambassador.

She could be with Zuko.

She can imagine the whole thing all too well, actually, — being on the palace, with him, until she could confront Aang about what to do. They could go for an evening stroll, feed turtleducks by the lake. Zuko’d make tea way past dinner time, and she’d laugh along with Suki when he’d burn his tongue by the first sip.

“There’s nothing I’d like more.”, she tells him, then. They are in one of the many balconies, staring out at the sun. The last scraps of summer have flushed with the breeze, and now the trees look all kinds of reds, yellows, oranges. Almost like they’ve caught on fire.

Zuko smiles at her again. A shy, wonderful thing that makes his eyes glint. His hair’s shaggy and overgrown, and falls limp between the honey of his irises. His cheeks burn a bright pink that, Katara deduces, might be from the gentle light warming up their faces.

“Okay.”, he says. He likes this, as well, — having her around. That he can open up to someone he can share his scars with, both the physical and the ones that lay underneath.

Katara inches close to him, just enough so that their elbows nudge together. The world has its cycles, she believes. Blue skies bleed into the darkness of the night. Ice defrosts when heated-up. And just like that, she’d fall for Zuko— delicate, and raw, and over and over. Helpless, like the moon that carries down the tides. Hopeless, like the autumn leaves that fall, ever so slow, and now gather at their feet like sea-foam.

“Okay.”

[bits-and-babs]

⋆ 𝐏𝐎𝐀𝐂𝐇𝐄𝐃

Dark!Commander Mills x f!Reader

word count: 3.7K

warnings: 18+ MDNI, Dead Dove Do Not Eat; this fic may be unsettling for some readers. Dark!Mills, Chasing Predator/Prey, fear, tense scenes. DubCon [Non-Con Themes?]. Mentions of body hair, Size Difference/Size Kink. Pussy slapping, unprotected p in v sex, tummy bulge, claiming, cream pie

➛ mills masterlist I| main masterlist |I send an ask I| taglist

Jagged bark digs into the skin of your back through the thin, soft cotton fabric of your shirt. You feel the amber tree sap seep into the canvas, sticking uncomfortably to your back and clinging to you as you try to ease your hyperventilation. The cells of your lungs vibrate with alarm, stinging as you suck in mouthfuls of oxygen.

Get away.

The sunshine thrashes you, your skin slick with the sweat that rolls down your temples. Heat ebbs at the edges of your mind, teasing you with the promise of unconsciousness. Rest. It urges you to let your knees slump, to ease your aching body down to the forest floor and close your eyes for a moment– you can’t. You can’t be certain how far ahead you were or how much of a head-start he had conceded.

It had been freezing when you awoke, the cold biting your skin raw even as it thawed. A low hum deafened your ears, subconscious tears frosting your coarse eyelash hairs together and forcing your lids shut. Panicked, you had pushed the heels of your palms to your eyes in an attempt to melt the frosty glue, feeling something slippy and thick smear across the skin of your cheekbone.

The metal tang to the scent that pierced your nostrils indicated you were bleeding, pain leaping forward in your skull and forcing your eyes open in your discomfort. Like a mallet smashed over your head, the sounds of your surroundings cracked through your ear drums. A deafening siren screamed, blurring your vision with the intensity of its volume. Glass tinkled against the metal shell of the cryogenic chamber as you’d wearily pushed yourself from the leather seat you had called home for an estimated double solar-cycle. Your limbs were stiff, unused and preserved in ice for twenty-four months.

Green flooded your vision as you rose to your feet, a flashing light on the data pad of your chamber indicating your apparent survival following defrost. You’d been thankful to see your vitals displayed across the screen– you had felt so awful upon waking that you were almost certain you had died.

Relief that had flooded your veins curdled into distress when the data pad beeped, a cursor swiping across the pixels to dismiss the notification of your stirring.

You hadn’t given the scene much notice from then, jittery fear shuddering over your skin and forcing your feet forward. The ship that had meant to deliver you to Somaris was nowhere in sight, but debris pieces of the vessel had lay strewn across the forest floor. Orange embers still glowed within the metal of some large slabs of metal.

The realisation had been slow to arrive, the throbbing remnants of a concussion sweeping nausea throughout your body as you stumbled over the fallen trees. The piercing ring of the alarm continues to circle your agitated mind, tormenting you with the sinking reality of your plight. Stranded on a planet far beyond the solar system you had come from, surrounded by alien creatures you hadn’t seen stored in information holo-pads and without a ship to re-enter orbit– all while attempting to avoid the person who you had no doubt was hot on your heels.

Initially, you had assumed that the scaly, lizard-like animals were causing the snapping of the twigs in the thick treeline of the forest. While some were humongous, you noticed some were of a smaller size. Even the creatures that reached your hips posed a significant enough threat for you to avoid them by ducking behind tree trunks and bushes, their sharp teeth dripping with saliva when they caught your scent.

Whipping around at the sound of another ‘crunch’, you’d caught sight of him. Long, ebony hair fell in strands in front of his face; his brows pinched together in a stalker's concentration. His lips set in a grim, thin line, recharge-blaster aimed directly at your calves. The amber sap that had coated your skin from the trees appeared to have drenched his eyes, irises burning a bright honey colour in the brutal sunshine.

You hadn’t stopped running since, chest heaving as the cells of your lungs screamed at the intensity of your pace. The thick fabric of your flight suit, coated in leather around the collar, was heavy to carry, your legs aching as you’d lept over each of the fallen trunks in your way.

Shuddering at the memory of the hours you have spent evading capture, you inhale shakily in an attempt to ease your thumping heart. It threatens to crack your sternum, bludgeoning the bone with its rapid pace. Even though you’d stopped for some time, dread kept your heartbeat thrumming like the wings of the birds on your home planet, your blood rushing in your ears and drowning out the squawks of the flying lizards, their beaks long and sharp, wings leathery with clawed hands at the joint.

A stream trickles nearby, the running water rippling around the surrounding rocks. The breeze is cool against your face, tickling your cheekbones in a soft kiss. Despite the rustling of the leaves, the babble of the small brook, and the distant hiss of the hot spring geysers, it’s utterly quiet.

Foreboding chills you to the bone, wringing you dry.

It feels off, this delicate balance of stillness. Trepidation crawls up the vertebrae of your spine and prickles your skin with goosebumps. There’s an ambience; thick with something sinister. It coats your surroundings and lingers in the air like unsparked lighting, threatening to pounce.

Your hair stands on end, blood freezing along with the beat of your heart when you hear it; the zooming charge of a blaster.

“You can’t run from me forever.” It’s delivered with an alarming deadpan, his even voice ricocheting off the tree line. You can’t tell where he is like this, your neck reeling on its shoulders as you frantically search the area.

Darting your eyes amongst the bushes, you spot him- his footsteps cautious as he picks each footfall carefully. He’s learnt from his previous mistake, ensuring not to reveal his position with a snapping twig.

You swallow back a whimper, skirting around the trunk of the tree. Palm pressed to your nose and mouth; you hear your trembling breaths as you attempt to smother them. It’s terrifying, the level of noise you make. You’re certain your pulse gives away your hiding spot- that the vibration of the very cells of your being is connected to an amplifier and blasting through the woodlands.

In contrast, your pursuer is almost silent, barely making a sound as he picks through the undergrowth. You wonder how it’s possible for such a large man to make so little noise. He’s so careful, so silent that you pause your breath to listen for him better. Where-?

“Sweet Thing…” you hear him coo, a slight taunt to his voice that makes your nails dig into the tree's bark. Your lungs threaten to scream, ankles promising to buckle beneath the suffocating pressure.

Crouching as low as you can onto the balls of your feet, you attempt to shuffle around the trunk's circumference. You’re careful to test each footstep, feeling for fragile foliage beneath the sole of your shoe before setting it on the floor. You swallow thickly, wincing as the dried leaves rustle quietly.

It’s as though time momentarily stops. The rubber of your heel catches on the roots of the tree, slipping down the curved surface and sending your foot crashing through the sun-baked foliage with a sickening ‘crunch.’

Oh.

Tensing up all at once, your muscles pinch with fear. You fail to suppress the heaving breaths that rattle through you now, sucking in mouthfuls of oxygen and wheezing in terror when you exhale.

“Hmm,” a hum sounds to your left, loud to your ears. You bristle, the seams of your person screaming that you need to move, to run. Instead, you stay rooted to the spot, fight or flight bested by the primal instinct to be still. To hide. The atmosphere shifts, the chill of the breeze twisting to an icy disquiet.

Don’t. Don’t move, be still. If you’re still, he won-

They crawl across the curve of your jaw at first, fingertips creeping along the line of the bone before gently grasping your chin. White hot fear holds you perfectly still as his thumb pushes into the soft flesh of your cheek, the scrape of his knuckles biting into your skin as they purse your lips together. With your feeble attempt to shake him, his grip turns solid.

“Got you.”

His gruff voice rasps against the shell of your ear, lips brushing the thin skin and raising goose pimples across your neck and down your spine. Breath caught in your throat, you barely manage a whimper of response– the sound cracks in your vocal cords and sounds more like a startled exhale.

Your resolve fractures into tiny shards as he uses the grip on your chin to tilt your head backwards. Tension cracks between your shoulder blades at the awkward angle, your muscles straining as he pulls them taut. There’s a tensity at your throat, too, the thew connecting your jaw and neck almost pained by the extreme flex.

Amber. The thin strips of gold lay stark against the pitch black of his dilated pupils, irises merely a slither as the abyss swallows them whole. An eagerness paints his expression, even as his thick, dark brows pinch together in concentration. The hulking frame of your hunter stands above you, neck practically folded over to stare down at your kneeling form. He’s scanning your face, assessing each aspect of your visage and taking in the details. The paw grasping at your face tilts it left and right as he searches for… something.

Again, you wail as you feel his thumbprint dig into the soft flesh of your cheek. It braces against the edge of your molars, prints embedding– branding itself into the skin beneath it.

“Shh-Shh,” He hushes you softly, voice somewhat soothing now as he sweeps his knuckles across your temple and over your cheekbone. “Quite the hunt. Chased you all over, 70652. ”

The five digits of your passenger number ring through your eardrums like the alarms that had alerted you to your crash landing. It flits across his expression, a smug, mocking look as the realisation strikes you between your ribs like a wet blade—the pilot. Commander Mills, you had been told before cryostasis, was a skilled enough aeronaut to deliver you safely to the destination of Somaris. It appeared he had failed his mission.

“I- I don’t-”

“Everyone in the cryo-bay is dead,” he speaks over you, matter-of-fact in his unwavering tone. Your eyelashes flutter closed, confident Mills can feel your pulse pump blood through your veins as he trails his fingertips down your jugular. It tingles, the feather-light touch, adrenaline rushing over your body in surging waves. “It’s just us.”

“Hngg-” you mewl as he crouches behind you, dragging his lips gently across your pulse point as he breathes you in- the scent of your evasion. Soil coats you in an earthy smell, the metallic tang of blood from the scrapes of the thorny undergrowth. Mills groans against your jugular, scraping his sharp incisors over the thrum of your heart while savouring you.

“Aren’t you lucky?” He whispers, gravelly voice barely registering at this volume. Mill’s hand slips down your throat, calloused fingertips tracing down your central points. Your throat, your sternum between your breasts. The deliberate trail has your breath quickening, an underlying threat of danger making the hairs on your arms stand on end. “Lucky that I found you before those creatures did? Hmm?”

The delicate intonation of his question is deceptive. He’s not being kind- he’s mocking you. Still, the enamel of his teeth sinking into the concave connecting your neck and shoulder has you crying out, wetness pooling between your thighs.

“Mhm,” he lathes his tongue over the indents his teeth leave behind, splaying his fingers wide as he trails his palm over your stomach. Need unfurls beneath the weight of his hand, twisting and coating your abdomen when his fingers dip just beneath the waistband of the joggers you had been provided before entering cryostasis. “This... Is thanks enough.”

Heat creeps across the apples of your cheeks as you feel his hand slip further into your pants and wedge beneath your panties. You can do nothing but turn your hot face away from him, squeezing your eyes shut when his fingers brush through the thatch of curls across the curve of your pussy. Mills hums softly, your only warning before he’s sliding the pad of his finger through your slick cunt.

“Shit,” he grunts softly, the tip of his nose trailing up the length of your jugular. “So wet for me already.”

Sinews in your jaw ache at the force with which you clench your jaw, trying desperately to swallow down the moans that threaten to bubble up from your throat. Mills is circling his fingertip just barely over your clit now, the delicate touch coiling a throbbing heat between your thighs.

It’s a subconscious response, one that bypasses your brain and jolts your hips forward onto his hand. You don’t mean to, your fingers sinking into the soil beneath you as your body tenses. It sends a bright, hot arc of pleasure through your body and you wail raggedly, the short-lived friction enough to blur your vision.

Mills leaps.

Ripping his hand from your pants, he grabs ahold of your waist in a bruising grip, flipping you over onto your back harshly. It’s so fast, the world careening sideways. When you land it almost winds you, your spine hitting the ground with a thud. Twigs and rocks dig into your flesh, but Mills gives you no real opportunity to complain when he pins your body down with the hulking weight of his own.

Urgency spurs Mills on, pushing his fingers under the waistband of both your joggers and your panties before yanking them down your thighs. He doesn’t bother to remove them, abandoning them over your shins. They bunch around your ankles, movements restricted by the fabric. Your body is trembling, buzzing with something far from the fear he had originally inspired in you.

Mills is huge. Broad and muscular, when he leans his body over yours he almost blocks your whole line of sight. His muscles shadow through the thin fabric of his shirt, sweat causing the material to cling to his damp flesh. The chase across the forest seemed to have had little effect on his athletic frame, the exhaustion that had afflicted you unapparent when he pushes your knees back against your chest.

“Just look at you. Trembling. Panting. It’s gorgeous.” Subtle cruelty drips from his tongue when he praises you, watching your nipples harden as your folds are exposed to the cool air. Honey irises drag over your sopping cunt, greedily lapping up the view. You shouldn’t be enjoying this, so exposed to a stranger you had been running for in fear of your life just moments before.

“Please,” you beg, pathetic sobs cracking in your throat at the desperation to be touched.

“You’re in no place to be directing me, Sweet Thing.”

Despite his apparent refusal, Mills is pushing the trousers of his flight suit past his hips to expose his cock. Again, he refuses to waste time in removing them entirely, removing just enough to ease himself out of the confines of the material. You only catch a glimpse of his cock before he hoists your thighs over his pelvis, but your heart seizes at the sight– an angry, red tip leaks precum that smears across the inside of your thighs, veins protruding across the large shaft. You can’t fit tha-

God, he pushes the pad of his thumb into your clit and you yelp, seeing stars. A steady, wicked throb of bliss pulses through you as he applies pressure to the bundle of nerves, swiping his print back and forth. It’s overwhelming, and you can’t help the way your hips jolt as you feel him attempt to breach your entrance with the head of his cock.

“Stop moving,” Mills orders, hand wrapped around his dick as he sweeps through your folds. You’re sobbing now, tears welling in your eyes as he continues to abuse your swollen clit. He slips again, dark eyes flicking up to your face when your hips jolt upwards to chase his touch, the build of your impending orgasm catching you off guard with how quickly it seems to blossom. The third time, when the tip of his dick notches the inside of your thigh rather than taking root, his patience snaps.

Mills suddenly draws back from you, removing his hand from your clit before bringing his open palm down on your throbbing cunt with a brutal slap. Pain bows through you, blending seamlessly with your bliss and causes a sharp, high pitched cry of his name to tumble from your lungs. In your shock, your hips momentarily still. Taking advantage of your dazed state, Mills quickly lines his pulsing cock against your cunt and drives home, swiftly ramming into you with an abrupt snap of his hips.

A haggard gasp rips through your throat at the sudden intrusion, the painful stretch of his cock cracking through you and making your eyes roll back. Dirt cakes under your fingernails as you grasp feebly at the damp soil, trying and failing to find any kind of purchase to ground yourself.

“Take it,” Mills orders, his gruff voice impossibly reaching lower octaves as he pushes his length further into you. He sits back slightly, his eyes almost pitch black with how his pupils swallow them up as they settle on your cunt. Fascinated, he watches your lips stretch around his girth and paint his protruding veins with your slick. “Make it fit— Shit!”

His crude growl scrapes your eardrums as he bottoms out inside of you, hips flush with your own. You can’t breathe, feeling as though he’s big enough to settle amongst your lungs. You heave shallow breaths, your head pulsing with mind-numbing dizziness.

Then he’s moving. He drives forward at first, reaching depths inside you that make your abdomen ache before pulling out of you. The stark emptiness he leaves you with is short-lived, thrusting forward and stealing what little oxygen you had swallowed down.

Heat simmers through you with each shred of the head of his cock against something blinding inside of you. It gives you no room to think, to move, the cruel pace Mills sets. It’s merciless, pummelling into you and driving you up across the forest floor. “Fuuuuck, that’s good,” Mills groans loudly, holding on tight to your hips to prevent you from sliding away from him. You sob brokenly, hitting his chest with the heel of your palm as you struggle against the orgasm that’s practically hurtling towards you. Christ, his dick is so hard, ramming through you and pushing up against your cervix and causing a delightful ache.

The wet sounds of him thrusting into you are obscene, slick and desperate as he begins to pull you down onto the snaps of his hips. Fat tears stream down your cheeks, collecting in your hairline as you sob his name over and over.

“Look at you,” Mills practically snarls, eyes set on the bulge in your lower abdomen and in awe of what he finds there. Fuck fuck fuck. You can see him, see the outline of his cock driving in and out of you through your abdomen. “Mine.”

Through your haze, you feel Mills press his giant palm against your abdomen, feeling himself twitch and thrust inside of you. His forehead drops against your shoulder, hips beginning to stutter as your walls flutter around him.

It’s overwhelming; the intense pace, the brutality of his thrusts, the way your clit brushes against the pubic hairs on his lower pelvis. You sound fucking wrecked, wails spluttering with each devastating rock of his hips.

“Aha-ah- ohfuck,” you babble, eyes rolling back as your body curls inwards. You’re burning, tightening, your orgasm creeping across the pit of your stomach. “I-I’m gonna-“

Mills groans loudly, and your back arches suddenly when he bites into your collarbone. His teeth sink into your flesh, hard enough to draw blood, and the pain shoves you right over the ledge you’d been dancing over. You cum with a scream of his name, clamping down around his cock as ecstasy surges through you from head to toe. Your vision blurs, hearing cuts out.

“Shit,” you hear him spit distantly, despite the close proximity to your ears. Mills’ hips push up deep inside of you, his body lurching and trembling as he cums inside of you. It feels, even in your altered state of consciousness, like it takes forever. Milking him endlessly, his breath shuddering against the wound on your clavicle as he gently grinds into you to ease himself down from the high.

There’s no movement, no sudden release of your body and flopping to the side. Mills stays stuffed within you, your mixed cum dribbling down the inside of your thighs as he squeezes the flesh of your hips with his palms.

Your sobs of his name had been loud, noisy enough to draw in all kinds of lizard creatures, but Mills seems insistent on remaining like this, scraping his teeth across the curve of your shoulder and beginning to rock into your swollen cunt again.

“There’s a few hours before nightfall,” he talks over your garbled string of noises, overstimulated and exhausted from the hours of running and the brutal way he had fucked into you. “You can take me again before then, can’t you, Sweet Thing? Before we head back to the ship?”

Your body resigns to his question, already far too wearied and submissive to argue what feels more like an order than a question— besides, bliss is already pooling in between your thighs when he pinches your clit with the pads of his forefinger and thumb.

“Good Girl.”

END

Join the Tag List Misc Character Taglist: @glassbxttless, @peachyproserpina, @pansa-1-san @htccu7gho9

Gif belongs to @zachsnydered

[darkwitchingflower]

ITS BEEN A WHILE but here's things me and my friends have said as pjo character pt 4/5???

Annabeth: That's not very feminism of you (@wraith--2)

Hestia: maybe build like a life size bread bloke (@carpcranium)

Leo: Feels like my toes are bleeding but it's just cause they're defrosting (@wraith--2)

Percy to annabeth: Nooo pookie don't leave ill get her a spider abortion (friend not on tumblr)

Annabeth: I thought I'd die before seeing common sense in this gc (friend not on tumblr)

Jason: It's not boring to want money and to not be even more mentally ill (@indecisivenb)

Leo: Sure bud (me)

Piper: Jesus was not straight (@wraith--2)

Some random camper in the dining pavillion: Hes staring into my soup (@wraith--2)

Leo: Everyone needs a piece of Leo (friend not on gc)

Leo: Me dehydrated: must not drink sex juice (@wraith--2)

Jason: Me and Percy cockfight like 3 times (@chefchennan)

Piper: Harry x hermione

Ron x jesus or smth

Luna x whoever tf she ended with? (Friend not on tumblr)

Mr D to someone being given a quest: You don't have a choice

They don't have a choice

It's equality all around (me)

Piper: Im not a people pleaser, im a woman pleaser (friend not on tumblr)

Jason (idk why but i instantly thought Jason): saggy balls? (@chefchennan)

Thalia: From your local asexual xx (@wraith--2)

Thalia: Homicide on Pinterest is an interest (@wraith--2)

Chiron: oh that's nice to see! A camper with a smile! (My criminology teacher)

Annabeth: ye I made percy smile by telling him I didn't like him in greek! (Friend not on tumblr)

Apollo: Will! Thoughts on be crime do gay?! (@carpcranium)

Thalia about Frank: Me and him are still friends we shoot kids together yesterday (@chefchennan)

Will doing some form of doctor test idk: I'm gonna skedaddle into your scrotum (@wraith--2)

Thalia: I f**king love garlic bread yummers. Its gotten so bad that I eat is everyday. I sweat garlic butter and shit out logs of bread. It's an endless cycle and I remake the garlic break with what I unleash (friend not on tumblr)

Percy to Annabeth (leo helped after frank found them in the stables): Thine eyes are blessed with the sight of her. Her.

Who I wake to every morning and think of

Who I dream of at night

Aphrodite has forsaken me yet she is my light

The waves will roar and crash

And I know, she is always up for a smash (@wraith--2)

Leo to literally any girl with a pulse: When I see her thoughts are gone

And all I can do is simply long

She could never be mine

Yet still I pine (@wraith--2)

Rachel thinking abiut percy: Days will pass and the sun shall set

All the while I'd place a bet

That I'm still there

Twirling my hair

Dreaming of something that was never fair (@wraith--2)

Thalia: is is the most fun I've had in ages, I'm trying to teach the bot aromanticisum (@wraith--2)

Thalia: As a matter of fact I am definitely aromantic but thanks for the suggestion (@wraith--2)

Leo, he meant to say floppy disks: Have you ever seen one of those floppy dicks-...🤏 (friend not in tumblr)

Mr D: Anyways orgies (@wraith--2)

Will to Nico: She's like nah, no love hearts have an onion were like Shrek now (me)

Percy: When I go to sleep I'm going to dream about gay sea creatures aren't I? (@wraith--2)

Annabeth: It's okay I'm a big girl I cry into my pillow (@wraith--2)

Annabeth: ohhh right in the trust issues (@thatonelazyghost)

[ofsunnydays-and-moonlitnights]

Another great day of saving the sharks.

Into (mer-creatures explained) Chapter 1 Chapter 2 <- You are Here.

Chapter 2: Lights out ~

You Dwell on the assignment at hand as you lean on the desk. 

If this shark doesn't survive the night all your hopes will be dashed. And you're still worried about the fact he's all alone. He must have been separated from his Daycare during the storm. That must have been so scary.

You sigh.

He's still asleep so you can't even check his stress levels or anything. You'd decided a while ago that you were definitely taking this next night shift to look after Ray but you still had to do the rest of your shiftly duties so as he sleeps you decide it's time to check up and feed the rest of the Celestials.

You're thankful for the fact each team only has one species each to look after. That meant you could focus on the Celestials while other Mer-creatures would be looked after by other people. But Mer-creatures aren't the only sea life at Cove Aquariums. Imagine looking after all the hundreds of fish by yourself.

Thankfully the night shifts were quiet, with no guests and only one or two from each team staying and all keeping to their sections. It was refreshing, especially from the hustle and bustle of today.

Before checking on the mini-mers you head to the break room to grab a quick coffee. Most others on night shift would probably be getting their cup of Joe later they've probably only just arrived. It's not usual for someone to take a day and night shift at the same time. But this was a special case.

The break room was empty. As you grabbed a coffee you remembered you should probably eat… you grab a handful of snacks as you head off to the mini tanks. 

It wasn't quite time for the lights to shut off for the night cycle so the Solars are still active just in time for their last meal of the day. As you look over the tank you see no one has scraped the algae from the edge of the glass, it's usually a day shift job but with how busy you all were with the rescue mission it makes sense it was forgotten. It'll add to their meal anyway. You quickly scrape the algae away with the mini squeegee. You notice Sunny, your Solar clownfish quickly snatching up flakes of algae to munch on, while Clips your eclipse mer barely notices the free meal. 

You then head to the cupboard, unlocking it and grabbing a feeding tray. There are two betta and three clowns to feed. You open up the mini freezer in said cupboard and take out a few portions of frozen brine shrimp and a pinch of pellets. Not forgetting a net for the feeder fish and a cup and pipette for the brine shrimp. 

You place your equipment by the tanks and start prep. You defrost the brine shrimp in some tank water and pipette them into the clownfish tank, just a little. Clips is immediately swimming around catching them all.

Variety is key to a mer clown's diet so next you drop in a few pellets. These are Sunny's favourite for sure and he grabs one to start chewing on. 

Sun your betta isn't so fussed on brine shrimp so you drop a frozen portion into the betta tank, it'll defrost in time for Moon to enjoy overnight, you instead opt for feeding Sun some pellets. As a final step, you open up the cupboard underneath your tanks to reveal a little tank full of feeder fish, a common practice among merkeepers. You scoop a few minnows up, dropping a couple in each tank, the Lunas and Clips will enjoy hunting those later. 

You can't forget to rinse your cup of brine shrimp in the feeder fish tank, allowing the dregs of the premium meal to be eaten by them before sprinkling some flakes in, healthy feeder fish make healthy meals. It was a routine you were all too familiar with. You watch the merfish swim around for a moment, Clips is busy chasing his food around the tank. As both Solars tuck into some pellets. You also spot a little hand emerge from one of the caves just in time to snag a fish. It's good to know Moonmoon got his breakfast. You smile at their fishy antics. “And people call you guys sea monsters.” You whisper to well no one, the fish? They can’t really hear or understand anyway.

 Ray should be waking up soon so you finish cleaning up and say good night to the Solars. Normally you'd stay long enough to say good morning to the Lunas but you have more pressing matters to attend to. 

As you re-enter the Aqua clinic you notice a twitch from Ray's fins. You have at least an hour before lights out so hopefully he wakes in time to check his health. Thankfully the clinic tank had a little hidey space so he can hide away and sleep at night. 

You would try to keep the lights on but that's just as dangerous. You wonder if some company would help. You first head to yet another freezer, yes where there is a fish that needs feeding there will be a fridge and or freezer nearby for your convenience. You open the fridge and take out a few defrosted mackerel, placing them in a bucket, it's not ideal a crab or catfish would be better but this is what you have at hand, you weren't expecting to be feeding a lemon shark when you put this week's order in. You then suit up in your wetsuit, your black one since the blue one is still wet from this morning. And not forgetting the fish aid kit. 

You climb the steps up to the top of the large tank and set everything down not too close to the edge of course. You watch as his fins twitch some more… Now you could wait until he wakes up all by himself or you could use a little trick you've learnt over the years. This job is definitely not for the squeamish. You take a pair of scissors and stab one of the mackerel before you waft its blood into the tank. 

You can see his shark instincts stirring him awake. His face scrunches and his little nose twitches as he sniffs the water. He finally opens his eyes, follows the scent and pokes his head out of the water in search of where the fish might have gone. He tilts his head as he looks at you. 

“Here for you.” You chuck the fish in his direction. It's so odd to be speaking to him, that's usually not allowed.

He catches the fish and starts to munch it happily. 

You've never actually gotten the privilege to work with a Solar in a tank before, it's usually just tagging them and releasing them back to the wild, and even then you don't get to join those trips often. Seeing him so close is fascinating, this will be this aquarium's first bigger variety of Solar, no of a Celestial. 

You quit marvelling at him and set up the equipment. This part is usually a lot harder but you think he's gonna be pretty cooperative. 

He finishes his fish and you stretch your hand out to him hoping he'll understand. He inches closer curiously. 

“Can I have your hand?” You ask. 

He comes as close as he can and sniffs at your hand. You're glad now you didn't extend the one you'd held the fish with. He then slowly places his hand in yours. You can't help but smile. And he mimics smiling back at you, his glowy eyes sparkle. 

You then strap a health monitor around his arm. It then starts sending data to the monitor tablet. You give it a check to see how he is. Everything seems normal and at pretty good levels. You let go of his hand to scroll through his results and immediately his stress level peaks, not too dangerously but enough to be noticeable. You take his hand again and it evens out, you let go and it peaks again. Interesting. You note that down. 

“Here, have some more for being so good.” You throw him another fish. 

You start to wonder… Could you start your research with some tricks? How about come here? That could be handy.

You wait until he's finished his fish and then stretch your hand out before opening and closing it. “Come, come here, Ray.” 

He looks at you puzzled for a second and then slowly approaches again. 

“Well done.” You throw a fish in the middle of the tank. 

You continue a few times and he gets faster at recognising your call. You run out of fish so you stop. That was so cool. You note down a couple things about the whole experience. 

“Ah, that was fun.” You sigh, sitting down at the edge of the pool dipping your feet into the water. A small chime echoes through the whole Aquarium, which means lights out. You quickly check the monitor tablet, this might freak him out. 

All tank lights slowly shut off, and all the other lights dim to keep the tanks from having too much light pollution. You see his stress levels spike to dangerous levels. He swims over to you almost leaping out of the water as he wraps his arms around you. 

“Woah there.” You pat his head. Checking the monitor it shows his stress lowering into the safe range, still high but safe. 

You sigh…  “I'm going to have to be your Luna for tonight, aren't I. You sigh again, slipping into the water. The fish meds are going to irritate your skin beyond belief but at least they weren't toxic… right? 

Thankfully you had thought to bring a pair of goggles in case you had to get in the water because you'd dropped something. You don't, though, have a rebreather or a snorkel. You hang onto the edge of the tank. He slowly lets you go and the stress alert hasn't gone off. Good.

 You need to make him feel safe. What would a Luna do… you think back to watching the little fish. They always do a perimeter check. You sigh and adjust your goggles before taking a deep breath. You dip under the water and make a show of swimming around before coming back up for air. 

“Feeling safer yet.” 

He tilts his head looking at you. 

“You need to go to sleep or you'll never get better.” 

He just stares. 

You sigh… you then take his hand and with a deep breath you take him down into the water and show him the little hidey space with the kelp and a little cave. You grab another gulp of air at the surface before swimming around in his tank hopefully communicating to him that you'll protect him. You resurface before looking down under the water. He looks up at you before back to the hiding spot. Back at you. You have to take another breath before you lower your face into the water to watch him again. A few bubbles leave his mouth reminding you of a sigh. He then swims over to the kelp and curls up in it. Still staring up at you. You get some more air checking on him again. He lays his head down and closes his eyes. You resurface. Taking a moment to breathe. You’re going to have to wait a while, to make sure he’s asleep. This is an odd scenario you’ve gotten yourself into but if it keeps his stress levels down and keeps him safe and alive you’re going to do it. 

You can’t help but yawn. It’s been a long day. If the lights have just gone off it’s probably about 12am, day shift will come about 6… you sigh. That's a lot of hours to stay awake for. You had to make sure Ray would last the night, He might not have lasted even this long without you. 

You lie on your back floating on the water. 

“This is gonna be awesome,” you reassure yourself. You close your eyes. “Just don’t fall asleep…” You feel yourself drift. 

Your head gently bumps into the glass of the tank. “I’m awake.” you gasp. You have no idea what time it is but the lights are still off so it can’t be too late. If someone found you like that, you don’t know what would have happened, they’d probably think you’d died or something. 

You need to get out and check the time. You first check on Ray… he’s still sleeping, so you should be able to sneak out. You swim over to the ledge and hoist yourself up that weightless feeling leaving you. 

You just lay there for a moment before you gain the strength to move. You dry your hands on your towel and check the tablet you abandoned earlier for the time. You sigh in relief it’s only 1:30. You then groan it’s only 1:30. Maybe the night shift wasn’t a good idea after a rescue mission. 

You drag yourself back to the changing rooms. You rinse off and get back into your uniform. Before grabbing a coffee and fetching some work from your desk, bringing it to the clinic so you can keep an eye on him. 

You have a handful of paperwork to get done and a few reports to write up. You’ll get some of that done. You get a couple hours of work done, take an impromptu nap, check on all the fish, and they’re all fine. Then get to work again. You can’t help but notice how itchy your skin is.

 As the hours tick by you decide to do some more research you were pretty well versed in Celestials of course but looking at the latest studies never hurt. Oh… an MRI of a Lunas brain has shown they have very similar brains to humans, you knew they had similar IQs but the resemblances are striking. Another article about their ‘secret language’, it’s no secret it’s just sonar. Ok, this study has more evidence to support the theory that Solars do most of the Star rearing in their daycares interesting. Aw… do they always have to go into the terminology? If you’re reading an article like this you’re no noob and probably know that daycares are the celestial version of schools, stars are the baby celestials who haven’t yet developed into a solar, a luna or an eclipse yet, and we all know a village is where a big daycare lives. We know all this, they’re the first things you learn. You sigh, scrolling through more articles.

Nice, a new Celestial village has been discovered in the Great Barrier Reef. Oh goodie… another theory on how they reproduce, until someone finds some actual hard evidence you’re not going to believe them, what do they have this time? Oh… interesting they believe there might be another type of Mer-creature, a female one, not the most outlandish theory. 

Your mind then wanders back to the first article with the MRI. If it’s that similar maybe you could look into how humans learn communication. You do a little googling… it says… ‘There is no innate system for humans creating knowledge and language.’ Oh fun, you keep reading, ‘Instead, we learn from the “inputs” that we're given;’ ok… ‘in other words, we are able to mimic the language spoken around us and slowly build our grammar and vocabulary.’ well Celestials are pretty good at mimicking, usually fish but it could work… You keep searching, maybe looking at how people teach children languages can help. ‘You can support language development by talking with your child and responding when your child communicates. Reading books and sharing stories is good for language development.’ you note that down, talking, responding and stories. 

Reading a story to a fish sounds kinda funny, sure they’re not just fish but still. You might try it. You know the only other study to teach mer-creatures to speak used training methods similar to teaching parrots. You’re not sure you’ll go in that direction. You keep looking into different articles but in time you start getting bored of the repetitive answers. You lean on your elbow sinking lower your head almost reaching the table. 

The alarm chimes as all the lights slowly brighten. 

“Morning already?” you sigh. The next shift will feed the miniatures but Ray is your sole responsibility. You know everyone is scared of him now that he’s imprinted? No befriended you! You decide that's better. You’ll coin that term. You chuckle, your all-nighter is getting to you. You grab some fish, you’ll feed him before you leave. Not bothering to change since both your wetsuits are probably still wet anyway, you make your way to the top of the tank. You wait this time sitting there yawning. It doesn’t take long, the light system in this area of the Aquarium is set to the average Celestials internal clock after all. He pokes his head up out of the water. And smiles at you. 

You smile back. “I brought breakfast.” you throw a fish his way.

He catches and enjoys it. “I bet that's good huh? Want more.” 

You feed him about two small mackerel and head back to clean up. 

Once you're done you sigh and clock out. You make sure to reassure Ray you’ll be back soon.

The next shift is arriving as you head out, you say a quick good luck and head home. Once home you grab a snack and get to bed, as soon as your head hits the pillow you’re out like a light.

Your ringtone stirs you from your sleep. 

You check your phone.

It's Kai, your boss.

[malewife-overlord]

Six Cycles Later -- Part IV Puncture

hi i promised an update soon and here it is. everyone meet the woman the myth the legend the awful bully who will absolutely rip your head off and eat it, Puncture! fun little fact, Puncture was my first TF OC :) anyways, she's here at long last! which is, frankly, awful news for everyone else. this is another "transition" chapter, but dw, we're getting right back into it in the next one >:)

and once again thank you to @callsign-relic for starburst :)

previous chapter can be found here, start can be found here

word count: 4409

chapter below the cut!

triggers for this chapter: robogore. puncture's a bruiser and she doesn't take prisoners, rip.

She needed to get up, but she couldn’t even fragging move. Face down in the filthy water, Helmbreaker fought against her own systems for control, cursing both them and the Seeker who’d done this to her as pain wracked her circuits and wires. Error messages for every system she had stacked upon one another, fighting for the endless dominance of alerting her to just how fragged up she was.

Just one blast from the Seeker had done this. The damn mech had bite, she had to admit. The prior shock in her stasis pod had barely felt like a tickle–at the time, she’d been too enraged to even think about why she’d felt anything, locked within it. Now? She possibly owed the damnable thing a small apology, at least for keeping her from initially frying. 

For 2.3 million years trapped in a half stasis, though, she thought it more than deserved the painful death she’d given it. 

The little Autobot who’d inspired her current predicament was lying on his back in the water nearby, wings and servos twitching. She could see his mouth moving, but no sound was coming out. Just as her voxbox was currently glitching, proudly displaying its panic in the form of a bright red textbox, his was as well –which meant he couldn’t ask for help.

Good. It gave her time to permanently silence him. Given their prior interaction she knew he’d phoned for reinforcements, but as with all SOS calls, said reinforcements likely weren’t arriving for at least fifteen kliks. Which meant she had about five to get up, one to completely snuff his spark out, and nine to figure out whether she was in proper form to slaughter them all. 

Oh, and she needed to do something about the Seeker. That needed addressing, too.

‘Come…on…’ she thought to herself, twitching her claws. They sent ripples through the water as feeling began creeping back in. Her frame felt cold despite the heat around her, like she was being defrosted after an expedition on a dead planet. 

What in the Pit did that Seeker do? She found its ability interesting–something that completely disabled other technological forms, including other Cybertronians. Judging from how it had made her malfunction, it seemed to be rooted in causing glitches; none of the error messages she was observing were critical, notably. It was as if her systems had all been forced to grind to a halt, and the resulting build-up of inputs with nowhere to go was what actually caused her to become stuck.

Very, very interesting. Such an ability would make sense on a ‘con who specialized in weaponry, she’d think, like a tank or perhaps a drone. Why a Seeker? Seekers were by nature weak, lightweight soldiers designed to be flung at the enemy in droves so that the real hitters like herself could come in and clean up. They were expendable. Why put something so devastating on one?

They’re all dead. The words played in her processor again. She’d been in the dark for 2.3 million years about the status of the Autobot/Decepticon conflict, but she wasn’t fool enough to believe those lies. The Autobot lying nearby was proof enough that the conflict still raged. And the Seeker lying nearby, with such a devastating ability…

She wondered if, perhaps, the thing was in some way related to them all being ‘dead’. 

Which was what she would be if she didn’t pry herself off the ground. 

“GET…UP…” She ordered herself, arms shaking as they struggled to lift her heavy body out of the water. Her voxbox displayed one more warning, then blinked back online. Still, static distorted her words as they were spoken. “You’re…better…than…this…!”

If she had been down for as long as she was now in The Pit, she’d be dead. Period. Once one hit the dirt they had all of four seconds to recover, usually less. The higher level matches she’d participated in, the ones which had given her a name, were the ones where only one mech walked out functioning. And she was not about to be taken away in a body bag. 

“Hey…’Con…can ya pipe down?” The little Autobot squeaked out, his arm raising slightly as he spoke. “I’m…a’ready…tired…of ya voice.”

Oh, joy. He was back online too. 

She cast him a glare more venomous than the concoctions swirling beneath her mask. “How’s about I rip your audials out? Then you don’t have to listen anymore.” 

“If it means…never hearin’ you again…” And he chuckled, which sent a flare through her system so powerful her legs finally responded properly. 

The errors in her HUD swirled as Helmbreaker rose to shaky pedes. Her claws flexed over and over, forcing feeling back into them. She cracked her neck both ways, rolling it a few times before pushing her chassis out and parting her shell. 

Shell. Ugh. She didn’t even want to think about how horrible she looked right now. Did she even still resemble Helmbreaker? The claws were a drastic downgrade to her fists, and the shell on her back could never make up for the two halves of the battering ram she’d previously sported. Even if she couldn’t see her helmet, she knew it was missing her characteristic horns. And the mask she now wore, with its undesirable probosces? 

In all truths she understood why the Seeker purged on her when they’d touched it, but that hadn’t made the fact that it purged on her any better. 

The little Autobot was surprisingly unafraid as she took a step forward, then another one. It was hard going–her systems continued flashing errors, though they were gradually dissipating as time ticked on. When she loomed over the tiny Autobot like the Necrobot itself, he smirked despite his situation, wings flitting with agitation. 

“Well lookit…you! Comin’ ta…kick me…while I’m down? Typical ‘Con…can’t beat me…when I’m up…could ya?”

Her optics narrowed. “You misunderstand me, Autobot. I’m not going to kick you.” Looming over him, she raised a pede. “I’m going to crush your helm and hang your body from the trees.” 

And that’s when the reality of the situation finally seemed to hit him. The little Autobot’s wings suddenly stopped, his entire body stiffening. Beneath his visor she could see how his optics went wide. 

Primus, she loved that. The fear in their optics when they realized they were going to die was just as thrilling as the portent of a strong opponent. She grinned beneath her mask, probosces twitching excitedly without her even thinking of them. 

“Any last words?” She said. “Beg.” 

And beg he did. 

“My buds–my buds are coming!” He yelled. “If-If ya don’t hurt me, they’ll–they’ll be nice with ya! I can put in a good–a good word! I’m, hey, I’m just a little guy, ya know? A little guy! What was I gonna do to you and the seeky?”

Seeky. Oh, she was absolutely using that against the next one she found, considering the other one was probably dead. Probably.

“I recall you saying you would put in a ‘good word’ if I surrendered. You seem to be offering me the same thing if I spare you.” She tapped a claw against her mask. “Seems like you don’t have much to offer beyond that, hm?” She lowered her pede, letting the claws on it grip the edges of his helm, but applying no pressure beyond that. “Your allies, they’re on their way now, right?”

“Ye-yeup! And they’re more’n capable of takin’ you down, so you better keep me ‘round, so they won’t–”

“How many of them?”

“Wha? Uh…at least seven!”

Seven Autobots. She looked her claws over, opening and closing them. They were no fist, and with the last of her errors closing in her HUD, she decided some practice wouldn’t hurt. Seven was plenty. 

“Then it seems you’ve nothing substantial to offer me, Autobot.” She spoke it without even looking at him. “Bye.” 

He screamed out a “WAIT–” right as she began to apply pressure. The impact forced him below the water, pink bubbles rising as he screamed in pain. She smiled sadistically at the sound of his helm cracking, splitting open to reveal his delicate inner circuitry and processor. That was her favorite part. Pink rose up in streams. Applying a bit more pressure, she counted on her claws. Three, two, o–

An energon bolt shot into her chassis, the impact knocking her back. Planting her pedes, her gaze shot in the direction the bolt had come from as her body hunched, probosces flexing as an enraged buzz roared out from within her. Was that seriously her battle cry now? 

“Back off, ‘Con!” Through the trees, an Autobot only about half her size emerged–he looked like some kind of water vehicle. She raised an optical ridged and quickly scanned the area, where was his–

Another bolt zapped into her helm, this one from the left. The surprise left her staggering back, almost losing her stance as she struggled to adopt a wider one to face them both. Her HUD flashed red for just a moment before the damage scan automatically began, confidently informing her that her armor was at 85%. 

The blow had been more of a surprise than anything else. 

The second Autobot swooped down, doing a flip to transform back into his robot mode. A kind of aircraft, though nothing like the Seeker jets that her fellow ‘Cons utilized. Even the aerial forms of Autobots were inferior to them, just like their fighting styles. 

Two of them. She could take them. But where were the other five? 

“Starburst!” With the aerial one defending him, the terrestrial Autobot quickly moved to Starburst’s side, pulling him away from her. She scoffed at the motion, staring down the barrel of the rifle aimed for her helm. 

“That’s it? This is all you Autobots thought to send!?” She scoffed, splaying her claws. “Don’t make me laugh!”

“Back down,” the aerial one warned, servo snuggly fit on the trigger of his rifle. “There’s no need for anymore fighting.”

“Damage is bad–he needs urgent repairs,” the terrestrial one said, hoisting Starburst out of the water. Oh, yes. Her handiwork was on full display with his shattered visor and bent faceplate. His helmet was crinkled like pathetic aluminum, and Energon was leaking from dozens of cracks. “Can you handle him?”

“I’ve got this,” the other assured, not once taking his eyes off Helmbreaker, who was now rather annoyed. 

“I’m a femme, you inconsiderate slag,” she snapped. “And if you had even half the broken processor he does–” she gestured at Starburst, “--you’d both be running for your sparks by now.”

“You wish, ‘Con. Radio for help and get him back, I’ll–”

And before he could even finish his sentence, she lunged. The aerial one discharged his weapon immediately, a painful bolt firing clean into the right side of her chassis. Her armor smoked, an irritating heat building just beneath it, but held. She was on him before he could even comprehend the lack of damage, claws swiping straight for his helm. 

It didn’t knock it off, like her proper fists would have. Instead, she claws pierced clean through the metal, ripping it open like paper. She felt cables snap and heard metal shriek as the impact knocked him to the ground, rifle abandoned to grip at his face. Energon splattered into the water and painted her claws in a thick layer. 

She flicked the stuff away and she turned her gaze on the terrestrial one. His optics were wide with terror, caught between defending himself or trying to make a break for it with his injured ally. She took immediate advantage, charging for him. 

He dropped his ally just in time for her to tackle him to the ground, crushing him with her full  weight. Judging from just the creaking of metal alone, he’d need a trip to the mechanic after the action. She’d change that to the morgue. 

Rearing up, she clicked her claws together into their scythe mode and punctured clean through his helm, ripping it free from its cables with a twist. Pink rained out of the wires that hung from her trophy, which she raised overhead as if displaying to an invisible audience. Rivulets of the stuff ran down her helm and chassis, leaving trails over her new black paint. 

A burning pain suddenly lit up in the center of her back, the impact causing her to stumble forward ever so slightly. Glaring over her shoulder, she spotted the aerial one on one knee, pointing his rifle at her again. Several gouges had completely torn his faceplate and helm, displaying his delicate inner workings to the world. One optic was threatening to fall from its socket. He didn’t care.

Bolt after bolt shot into her as she turned, tossing the helm of her trophy aside, and calmly walked to finish off her prey. As death closed in on him, manifesting as a wickedly sharp sickle, she didn’t once see fear in his optics. 

SLUTCH

And his limp frame hit the ground, now devoid of its vital helm. She met its gaze on her scythe as his lights went out, ensuring that the last thing he saw was her victorious expression. He was a fighter, that one. How unfortunate he picked the wrong side. Then, like she’d done so many times before, she raised his helm over her head and roared. 

There was no audience besides the organics, but they would suffice. And hey, perhaps there were a few Autobots in waiting, hiding after what they’d seen her do to their friends. 

“REMEMBER MY NAME!” She screamed. “KNOW WHOM YOU FACE! I AM–”

A ripple in the water caught her attention and drew her gaze to her own reflection. There, looking back at her from the murky depths, was a black Insecticon. Long hooked claws made up her servos. A shell in the shape of wings hung on her back. Segmented plating covered up her chassis and bent antennae twitched on her helm. 

She was Helmbreaker. But the mech looking back at her was not. She’d felt it when she first woke up, all those millions of years ago, this sense of wrongness, that all of a sudden, the plating she had been forged into had changed, and it wasn’t hers anymore. And the thing in the water, the thing she was currently inhabiting, was not named Helmbreaker. 

She was not Helmbreaker, if she was this. Then who was she? 

The sound of water splashing broke her out of her thoughts. She looked to the sound only to see Starburst back on his feet despite his injuries. Their optics met for only a second. 

And he immediately transformed, blasting off into the sky before she could swipe at him. 

A dozen thoughts ran through her processor. He’d bring back reinforcements. He’d announce her presence to everyone. With his escape this planet’s hostility towards her was sealed. The entirety of the Autobot army could very well come for her now–her and the Seeker. The clock was ticking on them both–the very last of the Decepticons. 

And she laughed.

“TELL THEM! TELL ALL OF THEM WHAT HAPPENED HERE!” She roared after him. “AND REMEMBER MY NAME!”

She had about one second to pick a name, and decided to follow the tradition of her finishing move. 

“I AM PUNCTURE!”

—---------

The organics were weak, but they did their job well enough. Puncture pulled the vines taut and wrapped them around the roots of the trees, suspending the Autobot’s heads just below where the branches sprouted. Beneath the trees she’d dragged both the bodies, slumping them against the trunks. Stepping back, she admired her work only for a moment–it was a pitiful display of her capabilities, but it would serve well enough as a warning to any who wanted to approach this place. 

She’d have to bet on it intimidating her future opponents in some way. Autobots attacked in swarms. There were few lone fighters who knew the true glory of combat and who dedicated themselves, body and mind, to the thrill of taking down an equally skilled opponent in a rapturous death match. No, the majority tended to pair up and gun down whoever they saw running across the field. And they called it victory. 

She spat, additional pink Energon mingling with the stained water. Then she headed back for the Insecticon ship. 

The Seeker was slumped against a chair on the bridge, optics dark. It had entered stasis before she’d even found it, and no amount of banging its helm with her claws had woken the damn thing up. This was inconvenient to her for a multitude of reasons, with the least being that she didn’t have someone she could boss around, and the most being that her connection to the rest of the Decepticon force, be they alive or dead, was now cut off. 

She perhaps had herself to blame for it a little, but she was too proud to admit such a thing, and instead blamed it on the faulty wiring of mass producer shlock. It wasn’t like Seekers were particularly useful on the best of the days. The Elite Trine earned their name (and place) from the fact that, unlike the rest of their ill-fated brethren, they’d had the fortune to be blessed with abilities that made them slightly more than sitting cyberducks on a pond. 

Didn’t mean any of them were particularly good at combat, though, and didn’t mean that the Seeker she had, despite boasting such an ability, was any good. 

She stepped into the ship and did her best to at least partially pull its stuck door closed. She’d done a number on it while enraged, and the metal cried with an agony often reserved for gamblers regretting their life choices. Leaving it, she gave the damn thing a powerful kick that left it dented, just as she’d done for all those gamblers who’d been thrown into The Pit. The door, unlike them, survived. 

Her best bet was the stasis pods, she thought, or perhaps reactivating the bridge in some way. All ships had self-repair mechanisms, and all of them had at least some way of repairing their crew. It had been millions of years, and she didn’t doubt that her Insecticon brethren had possibly ruined their ship beyond repair, but she had to have some hope. 

Because if she didn’t, and what the Seeker had said was true…

But it wasn’t, because Seekers were weak and lied to get what they wanted. Ask Starscream. 

She snickered and ducked into the stasis pods room, her danger sensor already going off. She tried to mute the damn thing as she approached the last of the pods, still as dark as the day she’d stepped into her own. It was fully intact and completely unused; surely, it had to be functional. 

She tacked her claw onto the screen and encountered her first problem: it wasn’t picked up by the sensor. Puncture tacked it a few more times, tried pressing all of her claws against it, and even bopped it a few times with her palm. Nothing.

Without proper servos, she was dead in the water. Well, nothing the Autobots couldn’t fix. One torn off servo later, she was back with a proper appendage. The screen responded this time, lighting up with a cheerful blue…and immediately corrupting.

She growled and gave the pod a kick, which made a dozen error messages pop up. When she tried to close them, more took their places. Her danger sensor was beeping wildly in her HUD, filling her processor with reminders of being trapped in a small, circular space, crammed in on herself, plating melting and reshaping, code being pushed straight into her mind and replacing everything she was, rewriting her from gladiator to Insecticon–

She yelled and punched, not even thinking about what she hit. Despite claws having replaced her fists, they still broke through the glass from force alone. The entire upper half of the pod shattered and fell away, clacking onto the floor in a glittering mess. 

She screamed in frustration and threw the severed servo away, turning and unleashing her frustration on the pod. Metal tore and sparks flew. Wires poked forth and were promptly chopped. Throughout it all she screamed, over and over, as if berating the mindless thing would somehow make its death all the more humiliating. 

When it was done she gave the mess of mangled metal one final kick before returning to the bridge. The damn thing was probably fried from the stupid Seeker anyways. That meant she only had the bridge to work with. 

She approached the computer that had once powered their small shuttle and tapped on its keyboard, commanding it to wake up. When the screen failed to respond to the buttons, she yelled at it, demanding it function. That didn’t work either. 

Exasperated, she ran her claws over the keyboard, scattering keys everywhere. They made quiet ploosh sounds as they disappeared into the water submerging half the ship. That irritated her even more, and she considered turning her rage on the walls before her optics landed back on the Seeker. 

Perhaps she could just pick its processor instead. It ran the risk of killing it, but hey, can’t make a clock without breaking a few gears. Stepping forward, she grabbed the Seeker’s helmet and attempted to wrench it from the Con’s head. 

Cables and wiring strained as she pulled. It seemed Seeker helmets were directly attached to their heads, which made the entire process more difficult for her. Scowling, Puncture let go and considered just what parts she could rip off nonlethally. Audials, optics, finials…

But the more she thought it over, the more it seemed that she wouldn’t be able to access the Seeker’s processor without ripping half of its helm open and killing it. Huffing, she backhanded the thing and crossed her arms, glaring down at its unconscious form. Part of its faceplate was now ruined, stricken with three marks. 

“You sure left me in one hell of a situation,” she muttered, tapping a claw on her arm as she began to pace. “Where the hell even am I?”

Earth, she knew that. But where on Earth? How close was she to the nearest Autobot and Decepticon outposts? What was the approximate amount of soldiers each side had? 

How hadn’t her side won yet?

She needed answers. Before taking on any great opponent, it was important to study them–their habits, their flaws, their strengths, and most importantly of all, their morals. How depraved her foe could become when desperate was key to preventing herself from being caught off guard. 

They always grew desperate when they realized they were going to die. She’d seen it happen thousands of times before, whether it was her hand causing it or one of her brethren’s–her real brethren. The mechs she’d been forged alongside in the Pit.

They were dead now. They’d been stupid. Strength was the most important trait to have in the Decepticon ranks, but intelligence could not be understated–and that was what she’d had over them. Even if her fighting spirit had also once demanded to take on Megatron, despite seeing what he’d done to Strutsnapper and Sparkripper. 

Strength wasn’t cutting it here. She’d killed the two Autobots with ease, but what of when fifty of them came raining down? A glorious death in the field was her fate, but so early? And as this…thing? Her claw tapped faster. No. There had to be something else more she could do. 

Passing by the open door, Puncture looked at the display she’d made. The two Autobots had been weak, and all they were now was evidence of such. They were weak, and their brethren would come to take them home and bury them in coffins, as opposed to leaving their bodies out in the middle of the field…

Her gaze drifted back to the Seeker. Trapped in stasis and on the brink of death, if she left its body outside by the Autobots, then they would certainly find it, and being soft-hearted, take it in. Repair it. Claim it was to be “brought to justice”.

And wherever they went, she could follow. Wait till they were finished, then take her freshly repaired ally back. 

It would be a lot of fighting though…and she had no way of repairing herself. She looked at her newfound claws and frowned. They were nowhere near as effective at instant incapacitation as her fists had been. Her body had been drastically changed from its original state as a tank, surely it had to have come with some kind of benefit to make up for such a loss of power. 

She supposed, then, it wasn’t an awful time for a self-examination. Even if it was something she had been putting off. Acknowledging how much she had truly changed made it harder to convince herself that reverting completely was possible. 

She didn’t know if she wanted to live in a world where this was what she was stuck as forever. 

Running a self scan and checking her joints and features over, Puncture learned a few things about her frame she already knew–and didn’t. 

What she already knew? Her new frame was modeled after an Earth organism. This modification came with new features such as claws, a shell to defend her back, antennae to detect changes in the air, and venom in her proboscis to incapacitate prey. 

What she didn’t know? It was something called an “ambush bug”. Ambush bugs were, true to their names, ambush predators. They used their scythe-like claws to grip onto their prey, and jammed their proboscis in to paralyze it. From there, all the prey could do was watch, trapped in its own frame, as its innards were liquified and consumed. 

As a predatory creature whose primary food source was Energon, her prey choice was apparent. The probosces on her faceplate were designed for piercing plating, and the venom boiling behind her mask was more than sufficient for melting it. And as an ambush predator…

Well, it wasn’t her style. But it would do fine enough for infiltrating an Autobot base. They’d come back for their dead. They always did. They’d find the Seeker and take it in. She’d follow right behind. 

And if what else she read on her scan was true…they wouldn’t once see her coming. 

[daemon-in-my-head]

The human body has all its cells fully exchanged by new ones approximately every 7 years.

Do u think it works the same way for elves or does the longevity come from a much slower cell cycle?

Like their tree of life magic sht kinda just idk, magically decreases the speed cells take to mature or acts like a booster for cells so they just last longer? Is it like some kinda stasis? The magic cryotherapy?

Also... How we doing w mutations and sht? Do elven cells have the same control points? Do they have less, more, are they different to ensure less fuckery? What's the deal with that. How do their cells work?

Also also what if you get cut off from the tree? I mean Irenicus did and he turned kinda mortal again. So, does that mean elf cells just get defrosted if they're cast out/cut off? The magic seals unlocking and releasing otherwise normal cells to do as they please again or is it more like a curse nd removing the link speeds up the process?

I need answers.

Hoping nd praying I'll get to the tags nd sht tmr, I've been cooking but also in severe need of sleep lmfao

[pixlokita]

She must not defrost

Why can’t they send her to the North Pole so this stops happening fr it’s an endless cycle every Christmas

[crew-of-the-detz]

Return

Establishing connection..... 10...30....70....100% Complete Defrosting systems..... Power-Cycling Life Support.... Awakening Crew..... All Systems Online: Mainline Battle Carrier Detz Fully Optional Playing Recorded Message: Kev, it's.... well, it's Kev. Listen, I don't have a lot of time before we have to go under. All that you need to know is that you put the required information taped under your desk. If the files can't be decoded, get Johannson to help you. Also, one last thing. Welcome back to the world of the living you old bird, pity you didn't croak.

[pokemoncaretips]

Whats a feeder pokemon?

[A photo of a large, plant filled terrarium. A few large, plump wurmple are lazily eating cabbage. Out of focus on the edge of the picture is the side of a similar large cage. A toy and a rattata tail can be seen.]

A lot of pokemon eat other pokemon, and struggle with kibble. These pokemon require feeder pokemon. We have a room dedicated to providing for our carnivorous patients. Feeder pokemon are allowed to live natural, comfortable lives, both for their sakes and for the health of the pokemon we feed them to. When the time comes, they're humanely put to sleep with a combination of carbon dioxide and nitrogen.

It sounds grim, but its part of the natural cycle. Some pokemon like ariados literally cannot eat carnivore kibble due to the way they feed. We try not to get attached to the feeder pokemon, but they get treats before they're scheduled to be taken to be euthanized.

A lot of pokemon stores sell frozen feeders that can be defrosted. An important safety note is that if you defrost a feeder and for whatever reason your pokemon rejects it, for example, if your ekans is starting to shed, do not refreeze it to use again later. That's a health hazard. Feed it to a wild pokemon.

[cosmererambles]

Costober Short Oct 20th (18th)

“You know…” Kelsier began, throwing a ball against the garage wall. His brother, Marsh, was in the process of brushing his Ninetales. He cringed with every smack the ball made, his scowl growing deeper. Kelsier smirked. He and Marsh had never got along. “I think I’m gonna sign up to be a trainer.” “You missed that particular milestone. Remember?” “Doesn’t matter.” Another thunk against the wall. He caught the ball, grinned at Marsh, before rolling it towards Empoleon, who stood sentinel on the farside of the garage. The massive Pokemon surveyed it as it rolled to a stop before him. “You can be any age. That’s just the starting age.” “Do you honestly think you have what it takes to be a trainer? It takes diligence, dedication, responsibility. Things you lack.” Kelsier set his jaw, his smirk melting away. “You really have no faith in me, do you?” “I watched you barely pass highschool. Yes. I lack quite a bit of faith in you, Kell.” Kell balled his hands into fists. “I’m more than you think, Marsh.” “Are you? Capable of doing anything other than goofing off with your buddies? Who, I might add, also chose not to become trainers.” Marsh ran the brush along the pokemon’s tail as she laid on the ground, obedient. Kell leaned against the wall, determined not to show any sign of Marsh’s words getting to him.

His decision had been an impulsive one. He was tired of school, tired of the boring repetition of life. Moreover, he was tired of Marsh. His brother had been increasingly intolerant and demanding. Asking him more and more, demeaning and belittling him in that cool way of his. Becoming a trainer would allow him to drop out of school. If he stuck with it fulltime for five years, he could even get free college tuition. At least in Sinnoh. He left Marsh to his brushing, walking outside the garage and staring up at the sky.

He knew more than Marsh thought; he knew Marsh found him tiresome. Knew that Marsh blamed him for having to quit his training and raise him full time when their parents had died. Knew that their fathers abuse had led to both of them adapting complexes; Kelsier becoming carefree and rebellious, and Marsh hard as ice and stone.

I can do it. Easily. He knew the theory; he’d watched Marsh battle hundreds of times. Plenty of trainers came by to challenge him, and his brother never turned one down. He’d have to find a way to explain why he chose to start a year late, though. Why does it even matter? Marsh started a year early. His brother had lied about his age in order to escape the cycle of abuse at his house, running off to challenge gyms and leaving his brother, and poor mother, at the mercy of their father.

Kelsier shook. Wrapping his arms around himself, he forced himself to think of anything else. The sky, the grass, the leaves rustling in the breeze. Anything but his mother. Anything but his father. Anger, frustration and betrayal were kept safe, locked in his breast. Emotions that had never left him, not since…

“Kell?” Kelsier started, turning around, hand flying to his hip. He withdrew a switchblade, held at the ready. Marsh stared at him, normally stern eyes…defrosted. He almost looked human. Kelsier sucked in a breath, glancing away. It’d happened again. “Come inside, Kell. It looks like it may rain.” “I’m not going inside just to be lectured by you.” “I don’t plan on lecturing you. If you’re serious about this plan of yours…” Marsh took a breath, sighing. “I want to help.” Kelsier had turned away, but spun, looking back at his brother. He still gripped the knife in his hand, knuckles white. “Put the knife away, Kelsier.” Behind Marsh, Empoleon waddled up. It cooed softly, voice comforting. He slipped the knife away, following his brother into the house, just as three fat rain drops splashed his cheeks.

It happened again…why does it keep happening? He wondered, throwing himself into a chair. He wanted to huddle up in a ball, but he forced himself to be strong. Despite it, he scratched at his arms, a nervous tick he’d developed after the event. “Stop that.” Marsh set a mug of tea in front of him. Kelsier raised an eyebrow, stopping his incessent scratching. “You’ll give yourself scars.” He turned towards the fridge, pulling open the door and staring inside. “Might look cool.” He grumbled, pulling the tea closer. “You know, I’d rather have beer.” Marsh gave him a look over his shoulder, and Kelsier rolled his eyes, sipping the warm drink.

“That’s the second time I’ve found you like that, Kell.” Kelsier froze. He didn’t want to talk about it. He didn’t want to talk about it. He didn’t-. “I know you went through a lot when I was gone, but I didn’t think-.” “I don’t want to talk about it.” Kelsier interrupted, setting his mug down on the table a little firmly. It sloshed over the rim, burning his hands. He bore the pain.

“I’m worried.” “You’re worried?” Kelsier snorted. “Worried about me? When are you ever worried about me? All you do is lecture me, belittle me, mock me. And you wonder why I’ve turned out the way I have?” “That’s not my influence.” Marsh turned from the fridge, arms crossed. “I should never have left-.” “No. You should have. You had just as much of a reason to leave. So what if you left mom and I behind. We survived, didn’t we? Oh wait. We didn’t.”

Silence. Empoleon, sensing the tension, cooed a long, soft note. Marsh’s Glaceon hopped on the counter, rubbing it’s head against her trainers crossed arms. Marsh finally sighed, picking up the pokemon and petting her. She purred in his arms.

“Listen, Kell. Enough.” Marsh crossed to him, setting Glaceon on his lap. Kelsier pet her absently; her fur was chill to the touch, as if blown by a cool breeze for hours. “I know why you want to go on your own journey.” Kelsier raised an eyebrow. He doubted his brother knew his true motives, but…sure. Let him think what he wanted.

“Mare left you for one a year ago.” “Sure.” Marsh looked at him. “Why, then?” Kelsier shrugged. “Does it matter? I just want to leave. And I can do it, Marsh. I’m more competent than you think I am.” A look of recognition crossed his brothers face, and he exhaled.

“Come on then. Battle me. Let’s see what you’ve got.” He crossed the kitchen, pulling on a coat, hood up to block out the rain. Kelsier looked out the window; dusk was fast approaching. “Now?” “Yes, now, before my good mood is gone.” He clicked his tongue, motioning for Empoleon to follow. The massive beast waddled behind him, ducking out the front door and into the back yard. “This is your good mood?” Kelsier followed, and had a pokeball thrust into his chest a moment later as they stepped onto the patio. “Yes. Enjoy it while it lasts, brother.” With quick steps, he left his side, walking into the grassy yard. Kelsier examined the Pokeball; noting it’s make. An ultraball from seven or so years ago. This was Magenton’s ball. He never had been able to evolve the thing.

“Magneton?” He asked, following him into the grass. The wind had picked up, the rain coming down harder. Kelsier wished he’d grabbed a jacket. “Go inside and get on a coat, you idiot. I’m not taking care of you if you get sick.” Kelsier obeyed, grumbling under his breath, grabbing the hoodie from just inside the house and slamming the door behind him. He pulled it over his head, pulling the hood strings tight. Right.

“I’m going to figure out your battle style. If you’re as “competent” as you say, you must have one.” He nodded to the Pokeball Kelsier held.

“I’m using Empoleon. You use my Magneton.” “Magneton? That’s strong against your Empoleon.” Marsh smiled, hard to see in the waning light. “Don’t worry about me, brother.” Kelsier eyed him for a moment, feeling rain splatter against his cheeks, before tossing the ball up. Magneton popped out in a flash of red light, screaming it’s metallic, ear-splitting cry before spinning towards earth. Kelsier caught the ball.

“Magneton, listen to my brother until I give you the cue to stop, alright?” The pokemon spun, rotating midair and it screeched. The wind picked up. Kelsier raised his arm to his face, blocking the rain as it drove down.

“Uh, Marsh?” He called. “The winds picking up. You sure about this?” “You’re going to face a lot worse weather if you head out on a journey. Suck it up.”

It wasn’t the wind and rain that worried him. It was what it would do when combined with Magnetons electricity. Still, he stood tall, shaking off his earlier discomfort.

“Empoleon! Don’t go easy on him.” The pokemon trumpeted a loud note, stepping forward, clawed, triangular arms outstretched. It’s feathers blew in the wind. Magneton hovered.

“You’re move, Kell. Show me what you’ve got.” Kelsier stood, thinking.

Empoleon is a water steel type. Thus, it has decent defenses. I could test with a take down, though that would probably get me flung aside. I’ve seen it used it’s arms. No. Best test with a thunderbolt. He called the attack, conscious of his voice on the wind. Marsh was far enough away he couldn’t make out his expression. Magneton shuddered in place, zipping forward and cracking out a bolt of yellow lightning.

“Catch it with metal claw, Emploeon.” The pokemon caught it, unphased. Kelsier stepped back in surprise. No matter. He smiled, understanding. Marsh had always relied on defensives rather than outward offense. Empoleon was built like a tank. His Magenton, however, had a move that cut right through that tank.

“Metal sound, Magneton. Get right up there.” It zipped forward, screeching. The sound was agony to his ears, and he clasped his hands over them. Marsh’s eyes went wide, and Empoleon ducked forward, letting out a shriek. “Move in with a take down, Magneton.” He called. He wasn’t planning on make contact; in fact, he wanted Magneton to get caught. Empoleon recovered, straightening up in time to catch Magneton mid-air. The two grappled, the smooth steel body of Magneton slipping from Empoleon’s frontal claws.

“Thunderbolt, now!” Inside Empoleons defenses, the attack landed. The pokemon screeched in agony, stepping back, angered. Marsh called an attack, and Magneton was pushed back, letting out beeps and metallic gurgles as the attack landed.

That was a flash cannon. Not good. Empoleon took damage but was barely phased by Magneton’s attack. Best try one more final- “Enough. Magneton, to me.” Kelsier, poised to call and attack, stopped short.

“What? I wasn’t finished.” “You didn’t need to finish.” Kelsier scowled, running up to Marsh, the rain falling faster. It was quickly soaking through his hoodie. “What did I do wrong this time?” “Nothing, actually. I’ll explain inside.” His brother turned on his heel, his Pokemon following faithfully. Kelsier stood for a moment, lips parted and brows knitted in confusion. He stepped forward, tripping over his toes as he followed his brother, glancing around as if anyone were standing in the rain to see that.

“I figured you’d bash against me endlessly with electric attacks. Your knowledge to Magnetons specific attacks and strengths, not to mention Empoleons, impressed me.” Marsh began speaking as Kelsier closed the door, stripping off his wet hoodie. “Metal sound, then take down to get into range and then thunderbolt was not something I expected.” Kelsier looked at his brother, expected a caveat. There always had to be something.

“I’m not going to insult you, Kell. You did well.” “Thanks, I guess.” Marsh leaned against a kitchen cabinet, and Kelsier, pausing for a moment in hestitation, went to get himself a glass of water. Glaceon hopped up on the counter, rubbing it’s face against him as he stood at the sink. He sat back down, feeling the chill of the water against the glass. Grounding himself.

“Where did you learn to battle like that?” Kelsier shrugged, turning to face Marsh. “I watched you.” Marsh studied him with those cold eyes of his, turning away. “I suppose.”

“Will you let me go, then?” Kelsier asked, tracing a pattern into the wooden grain of the table, not looking at his brother. He still upset over his earlier freeze, the embarassment of being caught fresh on his mind. “I can’t stop you. But if you want my approbation, you have it.” Kelsier looked up, surprised.

“You…think I can do it?” Marsh sighed, putting dishes away as he thought. “Sure.” He finally said. Kelsier sat back, crestfallen. A simple Yes, you can do it, Kell would be nice to hear. He sighed.

“I have to tell you that with tensions between the Kanto and Johto coalition, it may be wise to stay home.” Marsh spoke suddenly, freezing with hands on the cupboard drawers.

“Tensions?” Kelsier didn’t pay attention to politics. He knew something was going on, but had no idea of specifics. “The energy crisis coupled with the recent murder of a Kantonian official has things on edge.” Marsh turned, meeting his eyes. Kelsier looked away.

Ah. So that’s what they’d been talking about. He’d seen something on the television at the local diner he hung with Dox at, but they’d turned it the Hearthome Tag Team battles instead.

“I’ll be fine.” He shrugged. “I don’t want to stay here longer than I have too.” Marsh eyed him, and for a second it seemed as if his eyes turned downcast. “Is living with me that bad?” Kelsier didn’t respond immediately. He sipped his water, not wanting to respond. He felt like a child. “Yes. It’s hell, Marsh. You don’t understand, do you?” “I don’t understand because you never told me.” “I WAS THIRTEEN!” He slammed the glass on the table top. It spilled over, wetting his hands, and Glaceon flattened her ears to her head and scampered out of the room. “How the HELL was I suppose to go to a brother I hadn’t seen in a decade and tell him what I went through? You didn’t think to ask! You came home, angry that I dared to survive his abuse-.” He paused, chest heaving, anger spilling out. Marsh stared.

“I don’t want to see you. Ever again.” He tore his eyes away and ran from the room. Marsh called after him. Concerned? No. Marsh wasn’t concerned about anything but his damn Pokemon. His brother, who had went through hell at his own fathers hands, never mattered.

It took time for Kelsier to calm down. He managed to escape another episode by losing himself in maps and planning, staying up well into the night as he jotted down pokemon sightings on various routes. He nodded off, head against the heating duct that ran through his room, embracing the warmth it gave against the chilly fall air. A knock at his door startled him. He jolted awake, knocking his head against the metal.

“Kell? You awake?” “I am now.” He snarled. He pulled into his closet, wedging himself between the duct and the shelves that lined the interior. Marsh stepped in. Glaceon darted about his legs, finding Kelsier and immediatly sitting in his lap. He blinked, before petting her.

“I want to apologize. For what it’s worth.” Marsh began. He sat himself down on Kelsier’s bed. “Apologize? For being a terrible brother?” To his surprise, Marsh nodded. “It’s all I can do.” “…I guess you could try being better.” Marsh cracked a sardonic smile. Kelsier didn’t return it. He pulled deeper into his cubby, avoiding his brothers gaze.

“Planning your routes? You have any idea what Pokemon you’re going to choose as your first partner?” Avoiding the topic. Typical. Kelsier shook his head. “I have no idea. I guess I’ll choose what speaks to me.” “Choose Turtwig.” Marsh ordered. Marsh never advised. He ordered. “It’s the easiest to raise.” “Why? You have an Empoleon.” “Learn from my mistakes. It took me years to get Empoleon to listen to, and trust me, completely. They are stubborn, headstrong pokemon who will only follow trainers they deem worthy. Chimchar are similar; their line can be down right dangerous if in the wrong hands.” Marsh closed his eyes, taking a breath. Kelsier looked away. He still doesn’t believe I can do it…

“I’m not saying you can’t raise them. But that, for your first time, a Turtwig is a partner that you can depend on. They are smart, loyal, and grow to trust their trainers easily. Torterra is an incredible Pokemon with major offensive and defensive traits. If there is one piece of advice I can pass onto you…this is it.” Kelsier listened, unable to see his brother from within his cubby. Finally, he pulled himself out, straightening his shirt. Glaceon purred against his legs as he stood up, leanding against the shelves, his clothes pushed to the far edge.

“I guess I appreciate it. Can’t promise you anything though.” Marsh stared. His eyes were softer today, but they grew harder at his words. Annoyed, of course. When was Marsh not annoyed by Kelsier. He smirked.

“I…I think you’ll do fine.” Marsh spoke the words as if they were an effort to say. Kelsier didn’t believe them. He looked away, shaking blond hair out of his eyes. “Thanks. I guess.” “Get some rest. You have a long day ahead of you tomorrow.”

He did have a long day. He laid in bed, curled up in his usual ball, thinking about what he was going to do. Call the Pokemon Center. Ask if he could get a starter Pokemon. Go shopping. He had enough funds to get trip essentials. He’d earn more money by battling and winning. And then start out early the next day.

“By this time tomorrow I’ll my Pokemon.” He drifted off. It wasn’t really the Pokemon he was excited about. It was the chance to escape. Perhaps getting out of this house would help him recover.

The next day dawned, clear and bright, muddy from the last nights storm. He trudged his way towards the Pokemon Center, hopping over fences and stealing through backyards, picking up anything he thought might be useful. It wasn’t his fault if people just left valuables hanging around. A few Poke’dollars, left out to get wet in the rain? Why, they’d dry nicely. Pokeballs could be found easily, just lying around. People were careless with what they discarded all the time. Sure…maybe sometimes it wasn’t truly discarded, and was lost, but…Kelsier didn’t care to make that distinction. He picked up a wallet, pocketing the cash and tossing the rest aside. He supposed he could have returned it, but that wasn’t really his style.

The clock on the Pokemon Center’s front told it was 7:00 by the time Kelsier got there, having taken his time moving through the city. Built on a marsh and close to sea, Pastoria had quite a few breathtaking views he enjoyed stopping at when he could. His brother lived on a cliff, overlooking the city, and it was quite a hike down to sea level and the Pokemon Center. He entered through sliding glass doors, looking around. It being so early, most of the main lights were off.

“Hello? Nurse Joy?” He called. He stood, muddy boots and trouser cuffs dripping onto the mat at the doorway. He glanced down, grimacing. Shouldn’t have taken that muddy back alley short cut…He thought, heading towards the front desk. He looked around; he’d been here a few times with Marsh, but they’d always skipped the whole desk rigamarole. He looked over the desk; pens, pencils, plenty of paper with documents haphazardly placed hither and thither. A large streamlined monitor that was currently off. A video phone. Old model, by the look of it. A little bell.

He rang it. A loud chime sounded throughout the center, causing him to start and flush with embarrassment. He heard the tip tapping sound of heels on the linoleium floor, and spun, expecting to find Nurse Joy.

Only to find a Blissey. He blinked. “Uh. Blissey?” The Pokemon bowed, it’s voice akin to a windchime. “Is Nurse Joy available?” Blissey shook its head. Kelsier paused, thinking. “Uh…I’m here for my Pokemon. Left a message.” He didn’t add that it had been an hour ago. Blissey crossed to a monitor he hadn’t seen, its waddling gait amusing to watch. She pressed the screen, maneuvering the touch screen expertly as she pulled a wireless headset from a secret compartment and listened to it. She turned, her egg many feathery ornaments fluttered as she did so, eying him.

“So?” he asked, as she waddled back towards him. Blissey smiled, bowing, and raised a paw. Wait. It seemed to say. It waddled off. Kelsier sighed, leaning against the desk, hands in his jacket pocket. He hated waiting.

“I am so…” He heard a massive yawn. “So sorry! Blissey just told me you’re hear for your first Pokemon!” A woman popped around the corner, hair up in a tail, cartigan pulled over her shoulders. The women who ran Pokemon Centers didn’t have to be so pretty. He swallowed. “Uh, yeah. Sorry it’s so early.” “It’s-.” She yawned again, covering her mouth. “Understandable! Your name?” He gave her his name. She looked up at him, smiling brightly. He smiled back.

“You look nervous.” “I’m bit ashamed I rang that loud-ass bell, honestly.” He followed her into the backhall. “Especially since I’m not here for an emergency.” “It’s fine. That’s what it’s there for! Besides, I normally get up around 6; I guess I slept in today.” She turned a corner, took another right, and entered a large room. “This is our labratory.” He looked around. Centrifuges and monitors clung to every surface, and in the center, on a table top, sat three little Pokeballs, clustered together. “Why do you keep the starter Pokemon in the lab?” He asked. “Seems like a way to lose samples.” “We don’t usually.” She smiled. “I was running tests on them. Please don’t touch anything.” He kept his hands firmly in his pockets. The Pokeballs were all the same, with only slight differences between them.

“Do you ahve any idea which Pokemon you’re interested in?” She asked, picking one up. Kelsier paused. “I little. I’ve gotten some advice from my brother, but…” He looked at her. “I just want to go with what feels right.” She smiled. “That’s always the way, in my opinion. These Pokemon are rather feisty, just a fair warning. It’s good you’re a year older than most trainers on their first day.” He nodded. With that, she released the first of them. Piplup.

Piplup was a little, round Pokemon with a big blue head and bright, shiny eyes. It glared at him with abject disgust, and turned away, wings on it’s hips. He blinked. “He’s…like that.” She frowned. “I doubt he’ll ever find a trainer, no one can ever compare.” Kelsier shook his head. He didn’t want to fight with his partner. “I think I’ll pass.” She released Chimchar.

The Pokemon let out a screech and immediatly hid behind Nurse Joy, peering out from behind her legs. She shooed him away, speaking gently, but it simply hung onto her tighter. With a bright orange body and strong, dexterous hands, Kelsier had been interested in one. Not anymore. He again shook his head.

“Nah.” She smiled sadly, finally releasing Turtwig. It shook its head as it emerged from the ball, then stared at Kelsier from the table top. He gazed at it. It cocked its head, studying him. It let out a low long note, and stomped a solid foot on the surface of the table. Kelsier approached, amused.

“Well, you’re a little nicer than your friends.” It grunted again. “That little Turtwig is a female! She’s very curious.” He smiled, crouching down to eye level with the Turtwig. She promptly head butted him.

“Oh, my! I’m so sorry!” He heard her say. He grinned through the stars spinning about his eyes, clutching his head. “I…I don’t mind. Great Pokemon. I choose her.” He placed a hand on the Turtwigs head, patting her. She grunted with pleasure, eyes closed.

“That’s nice to see.” She handed her ball to Kelsier, who gazed at it, looking from it to Turtwig. She didn’t seem to want to go back in yet.

“You can stay out for a bit, Turtwig.” He smiled, picking her up. He followed Nurse Joy into the main foyer.

“You have a bit of paper work before you can leave, but after that, you’re all set.” She beamed at him. “I’m so happy you chose her! She’s fiesty, but very strong. Obedient too.” “I heard from my brother they make good first Pokemon.” He said, filling out the paperwork. Simple things; name, number, method of contact, age, and date. Emergency contact. Simple things, to track where the Pokemon were picked up. He’d have to file similar paperwork every time he visited a Pokemon Center in the future. It was how they tracked contagious Pokenotic diseases since the pandemic fifteen years ago that killed billions of Pokemon world wide.

“They do! The males tend to be easier to raise, but the females, in my opinion, are smarter!” She let out a giggle. “Females tend to be rare in the Torterra line; but they live much longer lives. You’ll have her the rest of your life!” He finished, looking up at her. “How long to males live?” “Oh, around eighty years. Females can live upwards of two-hundred.” He smiled, sheepish. “Best put her in your will!” She winked.

“Please feel free to stop by if you ever come home! We’re here to help!” She waved goodbye, and Kelsier, Turtwig tucked under one arm, left the center.

Hey all. Thanks for reading this short. I’ve been steadily working out the bones at work, and I plan to continue it a bit, as this entire thing with Kelsier’s PTSD is very interesting to me and I enjoy working with a character that has some major psychological damage. Mare will not be present, nor will the rest of the crew, but the Turtwig is going to be named Vin and Mauve will be around. The website bulbapedia is a great resource to look up pictures of the various Pokemon I listed, if you are unfamiliar, or a simple google image search :)

[kerryweaverlesbian]

Pondscum

Family doesn't end -

But it doesn't begin either.

Stagnant pond not rushing river,

Stale and lifeless, no channels, no estuary.

I reach my hand under the surface,

Not cool water but boiling weeds,

I pull them up as they pull me down,

Slimey, incongruous scalding in a cold, wet grave.

It's rotten work.

It's bitter, thirsty,

The oysterbirds mock me:

Why are you wasting your time on this?

There's water in Heaven,

Water in Heaven,

Water enough for us all.

But the water is here, I see it, I touch it,

Only choked out by the fact of neglect,

Only made history by history.

I clear out the azolla and a dead fish rises,

Pale, floppy and frightened through its expressionless death mask.

I give it a spot next to the others, tenderly, brushing smooth head with coarse fingers.

When I am done I will take them to the ocean,

A scattering of defrosted ashes,

A mourning for the lives they missed, as well as the lives they had.

The life I have -

Knelt at the pondside, gritted green with watermeal, pulling up weeds.

My jeans becoming saturated, mud and mud and water,

Primrose growing over me, part of the landscape,

Musty green infesting my nose, my throat my lungs.

I don't think I will ever smell anything else without the tinge of green surrounding it.

It's rotten work.

Rotting work, metastasizing,

The more I dig out the more it digs in,

The lesson; that water brings life and life, suffering,

And yet -

As I start to abandon myself to my own inevitable drowing -

The sky cracks above me,

Thunderous, wonderous, blasphemous rain.

I turn up my face and open my mouth.

It cleanses my lungs, my throat, my nose.

Lightening screens through me, a light then a crash,

I am struck with a vision: the project, completed.

A clear and fresh spring,

A lily,

A koi.

Remade, I continue, refreshed and renewed,

Family doesn't begin -

But it doesn't end, either.

For the @spnpoetryrenaissance prompt "cycles". I'm so proud of this one and I never would have written it without this poetry month.

[miss-kittys-kombucha-log]

So I wanted to do a post sharing some of my easy brewing hacks.

I was having a chat to my therapist about health problems and chronic fatigue, and how much it fucks with your life - and he pointed out that a common problem for people with CFS, is that you have so little energy available each day that you use it all up doing the things you HAVE to do, and so you never do any of the things you WANT to do. By default, your life becomes an endless cycle of chores & recovery, with zero fun or recreation. And it really messes with your mental health. So it's incredibly important to make a conscious effort keep some fun and creativity in your life (without sapping too much of your energy!)

The great thing about brewing is kombucha follows it's own timetable. When it's ready, it's ready - time to brew! So it forces me to devote some time and energy to something that I really enjoy.

But brewing can be quite physically demanding if you're already running on half a tank - so I've been fine tuning my processes to make things more manageable.

The first thing I did was turn brewing day, into 2 days.

On day 1, I do all the prep. Chop fruit, clean equipment, filter water - that kind of stuff. Then on day 2 I flavour the F2 and make the next F1.

(This is tip that's probably only relevant to other spoonies. When I was fit n well, extending the tasks over two days wouldn't have seemed like a better way to do things!)

Next, I started using frozen fruit.

I have a whole drawer in my freezer, just for booch ingredients. That way I have all the fruit I need ready to go. It's already cleaned, peeled, and chopped, so all I have to do is defrost.

(this is also why I repeat the same 5 or 6 fruits over & over 😊 - there's a limited selection of frozen fruit at my local supermarket!)

And recently, I've started preparing and freezing other ingredients ahead of time.

There are a bunch of ingredients I like to use on a regular basis (that I can't buy ready-made) so whenever I have a few extra spoons, I prep & freeze them in batches

I've got my chillies sliced, my ginger & turmeric grated, and my citruses juiced 😁. That way if I'm having a low energy day, or a brew catches me by surprise, I've got everything I need on hand.

... I also bought myself a benchtop dishwasher (perfect if you're a renter like me) which has made the post-brew clean up so much easier!