#digital crate digging

[omanxl1]

Acid Jazz & Grooves Radio - 24/7

Sunday Jazz Continues check these menus as we rock these venues; check us out as we do our due diligence! Check us out as we broadcast live and direct from our remote outpost out off of I-20 in Atlanta dropping these hot tracks plus Brotha O will drop this good word / the facts; somebody should be able to feel this!  This is all the way live, following the advice;  just the facts ma’am was the…

[getout-ofyourownway]

"So afraid of the outside that you die on the inside."

-Lonnie Holley

[wafflexdguy]

Powering Off.

It's a normal day!

Until it isn't.

A Vee x Reader.

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

Side note: look up what happens when pressure builds up and you'll realize what happened.

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

When Gardenview closed down, the Toons stook together. Because they were all they had left. You were among those Toons. An Unnamed character that somehow got popular enough to get your own Toon for a one-off occasion. The anniversary of Gardenview opening. 

It was lucky enough that you were able to come into existence. You chose your own name, one that you felt you were comfortable with. 

You got along with the other Toons just fine, the one that you interacted with anyway. Dandy, Astro, Vee, Goob, Scraps... You've met some of the Toons, but all of them were aware of your existence in some capacity. You don't know most of the other Toons on a personal level either. Which was fine, you kind of liked being alone anyway. You were used to it. 

You got along with Vee pretty well. You hang out with her a lot, and she seems to enjoy your presence. You don't really go on her gameshows though, just kind of participate in the crowd. She's invited you a few times to host with her, which you accepted. 

...Until she revoked your second invitation because you made too many jokes. 

It annoyed her, but you two never stopped hanging out. It was weird in a way; the loner hangs out with the extrovert all the time. 

Funny.

Eventually, you found Vee in her room practicing for her next gameshow, reading over questions, practicing which tone she'll be using, putting in the whole nine yards for a small audience. You decided to interrupt her practice. 

"Salutations, Vee." You formally greeted, which grabbed the televisions attention. She smiled when her digital eyes landed on you, walking up to you. 

"Greetings to my #1 contestant!" She put her hands behind her back. "What can I do for you today?"

You smiled as you put your hands behind your back. "Well, I was just hoping I could stick around and watch you practice your show."

She perked up, smiling brighter. "Actually, I have a better idea." She went over to a box, digging through it as you looked at her quizzically. After a moment or two she popped back up with a microphone that wasn't attached to her tail in hand.

"How about you be a practice contestant?" She offered. "Not a real contestant in front of crowds, but as practice, without all the crowds."

You hesitated. Vee noticed and quickly dialed back. "Unless you don't want to, no pressure." She tried to play off cooly. After a moment, you grabbed the microphone from her hand.

"I don't see any harm in it." 

Vee gave a toothy smile. "Great!" She quickly waltzed on over to a crate and stood on top of it. After one robotic clearing of the throat (ignoring that she doesn't have one) she acted as if a spotlight had just shunned down on her and grabbed her microphone. 

"Ladies and Gentlemen! Today we have one of our most exciting gameshows yet!" She dramatically exclaimed, one hand up in the air and the other holding the microphone up to her face. "And today, as one of our contestants, we have the one, and only...!" 

She said your name as if you were a celebrity. Something she did with all the contestants, but this time she said yours with more vigor. You dramatically waved to the non-existent audience.

"Thank you, thank you! Glad to be here." You attempted to lean on the non-existent podium, only to fall flat on our face.

Vee let out a snort. "Clearly one of our smarter contestants too." She joked.

"Shut up..." You muttered. She let out a robotic giggle as she jumped down from her crate and walked over to you, offering a hand to which you accepted. "Thanks."

"No problem," she offered a smile, "you okay?" She questioned cautiously, still retaining a small smirk. 

You nodded. "Yeah, I'll be fine. Let's get back to practicing, yeah?" 

Vee shrugged, but you can tell she was still slightly worried. "If you insist." She waltzed back on over to the crate and climbed back on top of it. In a single moment, she was back in character, giving the confident smirk and a hand on her hip. 

"Question one:" She started, "How many legs does a lobster have?"

Finn usually gives off fish facts... a bit too often whenever he isn't making puns about them. Or even when he's giving puns about them. Either way, you know he's mentioned this once or twice.

"Ten." You confidently answer. Vee digs around in her bowtie, pulling out a card and reading over it for a moment. He screen turns into a checkmark as she gives a thumbs up.

"Ding ding ding! Correct!" She tosses the card behind her without a second thought. "That's 5 points to the contestant that answered first!" You let out a small chuckle as she got more and more into the act.

"Second question: What is a Deodar?" Vee questioned, raising her microphone towards you as you tried to think of a reasonable answer. The only thing you could come up with is a brand of deodorant.

"A.... Deodorant?" You guessed. Like clockwork, Vee pulls out a card from her bowtie once again and reads over it. 

A red 'X' flashes on her screen. She imitates a buzzer sound. "Sorry! Unfortunately, that's incorrect." She gives a weak smile. "The correct answer was a large Evergreen tree!"

You slightly beat yourself up for getting that wrong. Obviously the first thing you think of when 'deodar' comes up is 'deodorant'. You don't show it though and allow Vee to continue, only letting out a small 'dang' as a response to the failed question.

Vee discards the second card. "Third question:" Vee's toothy grin is now apparent and more obvious. "This one's a doozy," Vee commented, "Where in the human body would you find the medulla oblongata?"

"Oh!" A third voice enters the fray. "Is it in the brain?"

You look over to where the voice came from: Scraps appearing into your view as she smiles innocently. Vee's once happy go lucky attitude and expression evaporates into air as she quickly rummages through her bowtie, retrieving the card and quickly reading it over.

Vee glares at Scraps. "Of course you got that one right..." Vee mutters, clearly seething. You just tilted your head.

"How'd you get that one?" You questioned, not noticing Vee slightly fuming on top of the crate. 

Scraps just shrugged. "Just a lucky guess."

Vee rolled her eyes as she crossed her arms. "It's always a lucky guess." Vee grumbles as she hops down from her crate. "What do you want, Scraps?" She asks, unamused by the sudden intrusion. 

"Oh, right!" Scraps perks up. "Glisten wanted me to go get you for something, he didn't tell me what it was."

"Of course he does." Vee mutters something about 'breaking another microphone' and starts to move past Scraps, not even sparing a glance. 

"Are you mad at me?" Asked Scraps.

"Yes." Vee simply replies.

"Oh." 

Vee exits the room with you not too far behind her. You quickly catch up to her, looking at her quizzically trying to figure out what she was mad about.

"So," You started, "what was all of that about?" You tried to not come off as demanding when saying that, or rude. She just looks over to you briefly and sighs. 

"Scraps always 'guesses' my questions correctly." She explains. "Doesn't matter how hard it is, or how dumb it is, she always gets it right!" She yells angrily, throwing her hands up in the air as she continues to walk with you by her side.

"Which two months of the year are named for mortal men?" She questions, not towards you but more of an imitation. "Oh, July and August!" She answers herself; imitating Scraps voice. 

"Cows produce 3% less milk when listening to what kind of music?" She presses forward. "Country music?"

Vee lets out a small, frustrated grunt. "It's always her getting the right answer, no matter how hard the questions are, it's like clockwork that she guesses them correctly, every. Single. Time." She facepalms herself. "It's just more annoying than infuriating, at this rate I'm going to lose all of my prizes to give out to contestants." 

You pat her on the back. "Hey, that lucky streak can't keep going on forever." You attempt to reassure her. "And you'll get her eventually." 

Vee perks up at that. She smiles softly.  "Thanks, bonehead. I appreciate that."

"Bonehead, huh?" You smile. "Was that for failing the 'deodar' question?" 

Vee scrambles herself as she attempts to correct herself. "Er- No! It wasn't meant as-"

"Kidding, kidding. I know what you meant." You stick your tongue out at her. Vee composes herself as she chuckles.

"You're the worst, you know that?" You only giggle in response.

"So I've been told."

Both of you were interrupted by a sudden rumbling sound coming from the next room. The old playroom of Gardenview. Well, it's more of a library, but the kids never treated it like that, they always ran around even when they weren't supposed to. Both of you look at each other confused as the rumbling continues. 

You're the first one to speak up. "Uh, should we go check that out?" Vee looks back at the room. It wasn't anything out of a horror movie, the place was still well lit. No real sense of danger other than the rumbling sound.

"I don't see why not." Vee answers, beginning to walk over towards the library with you in tow. 

The room looked well kept; most likely by Dandy, who hasn't stopped trying to keep the place neat and tidy ever since the place closed down. The rumbling in the room, unfortunately couldn't be pinned down to one location, which annoyed both you and Vee. 

"Of course it's never easy..." Vee mutters, looking around briefly to try and track down the source of the noise. She taps her foot as her tail sways around, occasionally flicking around as Vee's frustration grows higher.

"Hey," She grabs your attention as you look inside a room -not entering it-, looking at you. "Maybe it would be easier if we split up. Just to cover more ground." She clarifies. 

"You sure?" You ask to confirm. Vee nods and you take that as your cue to look around, Vee briefly following behind you before splitting to look for the source of the noise. 

You don't have much luck. You see a few machines here an there, almost as if they're containers for something, but they're empty. So whatever was supposed to be in there, you won't know for now. 

Your search stops as you come across a poster. Usually featuring the Toons that are more prevalent in the show, but this one shows you; the one from the Gardenview anniversary. It describes you- What would have been you if the lawsuits hadn't come up. You sigh solemnly as you realize what you could have probably had. 

Too late to do anything about it now, though. 

you continue to walk around for a bit, coming across of fan mail directed towards the Toons. You find some that feature Astro, Dandy, Sprout, Cosmo... It was good times. Of course, you were only there in spirit, just kind of watching it unfold because corporate wanted you to stay hidden until the big reveal on anniversary day. But still, good times.

"Hey!" A robotic voice cuts through your reminiscing. "Think I found it."

You look to where the voice is, and It's Vee poking her head out from behind a bookshelf. You immediately walk over to her.

"You found it?"

Vee nods, gesturing her head towards the sound. "Yeah, turns out it's this-"

...

She doesn't get the time to finish her sentence as whatever she was gesturing towards exploded, sending what you could make out to be glass shards, mechanical parts and a black liquid. Ichor.

It sends her flying back, hitting a nearby table. You yell her name as you immediately rush towards her, sliding on your knees as you try to assess her situation. Her situation being that nothing seemed damaged or injured, but the unsettling amount of Ichor that she's covered in is unsettling. 

"Holy- Are you okay?!" You ask, grabbing her hand. She sits up slightly as she rubs her head.

"Yeah- I think?" She stands up as she shakes off the Ichor off her off hand. "What the hell was that?!" She yells, looking over to where the explosion happened. You look over too, seeing what was one of those machines earlier, except now mangled and broken beyond repair. 

She huffs. "Stupid fricking machine." She mutters, attempting to shake off the Ichor, with only partial success. "Ugh, I'm going to have to get Tisha to help me out with this. And I have a show coming up in a few days and this happens."

You don't get any Ichor on you when she waves her arm again trying to get the Ichor off, to no success, this time seemingly sticking like glue. Vee lets out a disgusted sound as she just dangles her arm there, with the goop slicking down like a weird slime. 

You sigh. "Well, hey; go check up with Tisha and get yourself cleaned up, m'kay? I'll go to Glisten on your behalf to save you the trouble, sound good?"

Vee looks at you, then her arm. With a sigh, she nods slowly. You give her a thumbs up and then make your way to the exit of the library. 

...

Was she supposed to be feeling sick?

-Pretend like I put a really smooth transition here wooooooooo-

Glisten didn't want much, only to show off to Vee that he built his own stage and seats out of an old room, much to Dandy's annoyance, who was off to the side with his hands behind his back. You didn't really care much for it, and you knew Vee wouldn't either if she was here. 

Glisten was disappointed that you were the one that got to witness his show-off, but nonetheless, here you are. 

As you walk away from the (rather loud and long) lecture about how to 'properly set up a stage', you come across Tisha. Who was walking way with a trash bag of... Something, you couldn't tell what it was from a glance. 

"Oh, hey, Tisha." You wave to her, immediately grabbing her attention. She waves back as she calls your name back happily. You walk up to her with a friendly smile weary with exhaustion.

"How's Vee?" You quickly ask, hoping for the best. 

She smiles wide in return. "Oh, she's doing great! Came to me covered in Ichor though and it was... really hard to get off..." She drifts her eyes to the trash bag, holding it up slightly. It's only now that you're noticing her hands are covered with Ichor. 

"Really hard getting it off." She repeats. "But I did it! I was just going to throw this out but... She looked like she was about to throw up."

You stiffen up at that. 

"Strange because she doesn't have... Y'know, a mouth to throw up from?" She comments, putting a hand up to her chin. "She said that she was going to her room if you wanted to go see her."

You recompose yourself. "I'll go do that. Thanks for the help, Tisha!" You wave off as you walk away. She waves you away as she goes out to take out the trash. 

You power walk your way to Vee's room. You figured her feeling sick was due to her colliding with the table from the explosion. Speaking of, you should probably go let Dandy know that the library was now considered a hazard due to that. 

You sigh, either way, you'll go help her. It's the least you can do; you figure; for being such a good friend.

As you make your way to Vee's room, you considered just walking on in like you always do, but... For some reason you felt like this time you should knock. Just out of respect.

As you do, you hear a weak 'doors open'. You gently open the door.

"Vee? You okay?"

Vee immediately perks up from her bed, looking over at you with a weak smile. "Hey, good to see you again!" 

"It's only been a few hours." You joke, leaving Vee chuckling nervously. 

"Yeah... It's just..." Vee pauses. "What's that look for?" 

You point at her. "Your eyes and antennae are different." You point out. Confused, Vee grabs a mirror and looks at herself, immediately noting the enlarged antennae and red dots in her eyes. 

"That's..." She pauses, "New."

"The unsettling kind of new." You finish, walking up to her and sitting beside her as she continues to inspect herself. She flicks at her antennae and makes other gestures with her face to see if the red glint will go away. None of her attempts work.

You clutch the bed. "How're you feeling?"

She looks back at you, trying to come up with the right words. "How do you describe it...? It feels like my stomachs twisting." She describes for you, leaving you giving a weak chuckle.

"And you don't even have a stomach."

"That's not funny."

"I know."

"This shouldn't be happening..." She stresses. "I shouldn't feel like I'm sick, I-I'm mechanical." You put a hand up to your chin, attempting to think of an answer to that problem.

You come up with something. "Did you download a virus?"

"I'll show you a virus-!" Vee jolts towards you, raising a fist before quickly catching herself. You flinch back, throwing your hands up in defense. Vee backs up from you, trying to give you space to feel more at ease.

"Sorry- I don't-" She keeps cutting herself off. "I don't know why I did that."

You start to get up. "I should go get Rodger, he might know what's going on with you." You start to walk towards the exit, only for Vee to grab onto your wrist. 

"W-Wait! Don't!" She pleads. "Don't leave me alone like this, please..." 

Your pupils dilate. "V-Vee... Your stomach."

She looks down at herself.

...

Taking the saying 'your stomach will eat itself' too literally here, Ichor begins to leak from her stomach region. 

She immediately panics, screaming as she attempts to cover her wounds with her hands, to no avail. You immediately grab her shoulders in an attempt to calm her down.

"What's happening to me?!" She quickly grabs your arms, her grip probably could cut off blood flow if you had any. 

You stutter as you attempt to come up with a cohesive answer to what was happening to her. "I- I don't know! I don't know h-how to..." Your hands were shaking. You knew this wasn't normal; there's just no way. 

"I- I'll go find someone; I'll go get help-" You failed to do so as Vee adjusted her grip onto your wrists.

"Don't! P-Please don't leave me here alone!" Digital tears flow from the digital eyes as they look at you pleadingly. You're panicking. You don't know what to do, what you could do.

"Vee, I don't- I don't know how to fix this!" You manage to get words out. "I have to go get help; I can't do anything by myself right now..."

You try to think of a temporary solution. 

"Count to 100 for me."

Her trembling gaze looks at you confused. 

"I have to go, count to 100 and I promise I'll be back by then, okay?"

Hesitantly and weakly, she nods. She lets go of your wrists and you immediately run to go find some help. She does as you say.

"One...

Two...

Three...

Four....

Five..."

'Why does it feel like my body is tearing itself apart?' She wonders through pained sobs.

"Six...

Seven...

Eight...

Nine...

Ten..."

'Why does it have to hurt so much...?' She thinks despite agonizing moments.

"Eleven...

Twelve...

Thirteen...

Fourteen...

Fifteen..."

'Please...'

"Seventeen...

Eighteen..."

'Somebody...'

"Nineteen...

...Twenty...

Help me..."

[postpunkindustrial]

Black Devil – Disco Club LP

May the 4th is coming and i was doing a litttle digital crate digging to help spice up this years cosmic offerings. But while trolling through Discogs I came across this album*, It is a weird little piece of leftfield electronic disco that I immediatly fell in love with. Check it out!

Get it from my Google Drive HERE

Yes I know postpunkindustrial is supposed to be sad noisy spooky angry and such. I will get back to it soon I promise.

[lucifermonsii]

König x Bottom M!reader

cw: fingering, masturbate (receiving), mentions of dicks

I am brain dead literally gotta study for my finalss rn

Footsteps echo through the hallway as he struts, silence fills the room. His arms were a bit sore from the heavy crates of unused firearms, groaning from the mere weight of it before arriving at the door of the storage area. Putting the heavy crate down before using his keycard to gain access to the room and picking the crate back up and walking inside, the door closed shut behind him when he bent over to place the crate down. Groaning after and stretching his back, "God.." Y/N groans before the door opens once more and closses. He looks over his shoulder to find König, his Colonel, entering and walking towards him.

"Sergeant." He greets in a deep and monotoned tone, his austrian accent apparent as he marches over to the smaller male, stopping behind him and Y/N turning to look up at the Colonel. "Can i help you, sir?" Y/N questions, "What were you doing last night." Says König as if it were a command. His body tenses from his words, and a feeling of worry and anxiety washes over him as he bit his lower lip. Realising König may or may not have heard him whimpering his name while getting off.

"I-"

"Don't lie to me, i heard you."

The man says as he takes another step closer, making Y/N take a step back out of hesitation.

* . °•★|•°∵ ∵°•|☆•° . *

He whimpers as his hands grip the sides of König's, thighs clenched and his ass hovering above the Colonel's lap. Face buried into his shoulder and soft pants fills the room along with occasional whimpers and soft moans, the way his large and callousness fingers fingers him was too much. Gently fingering his tight and warm hole as Y/N's gummy walls hugging nicely against his length, the tip of his fingers gently brushing against Y/N's prostate made him arch his back along with a soft moan. Blunt nails digging into König's waist and his flushed face now buried into the side of the larger man's neck, upon König realising he rubs his digits against the smaller man's prostate, making him moan and whimper softly.

His mouth agape as soft pants and whimpers leave his quivering lips, his back arches further when König's pace quickens. His fingers hitting Y/N prosate with each trust has the smaller male whimpering and moaning as he tries to muffle them, teeth slightly digging into the side of König's neck. He thrusts his finger deeper as his fingers bullies Y/N prostae, making the male moan from the brutal pace, his large lengths stretching the poor male. Y/N's hand crept down to his crotch as he stroked his dick, his chest heaving up and down while he moans and whimpers. His hand quickened as he was reaching closer to his climaxe, hips bucking into his own hand but quickly stopped when König took his hand away. Making him whimper from the loss.

"I didn't give you permission, did i boy?"

"M' sorry- im sorry, please, let me cum.."

He drags his fingers out, making Y/N whimper from the loss.

"Good boy.."

He murmurs, the way his warm breath brushes against Y/N's ear sends a shiver down his spine. Leaving him hot and aroused due to the current situation. He then eventually strokes the male's length, teasing the tip with his thumb as he jerks him off. Whimpers and moans escapes his lips as he bucks his hips into König's calloused hands, making him chuckle from how needy he was. Strings of whites shot out as he reaches his climax, panting softly as he limps against König. The larger man continued to stroke him, milking him dry as his hand was painted white.

"Im not done with you yet hübscher Junge."

[kybercrystals94]

As Luck Would Have It

Read here on Ao3!

Whumptober 2024 - Day 17 - Prompt: "We had a good run."

Rated: G | Words: 784

“Hey! Who threw my lucky blacks in the trash bin!” 

Echo sighs. He thought he had buried those things deep enough Wrecker wouldn’t notice. “Why are you digging through the bin?” 

Wrecker holds the undersuit close to his chest like they are his most precious possession. “You threw them away? Why?” 

“It’s a scientific wonder those things haven’t simply disintegrated,” Tech says, not looking up from his latest project taking up the barrack’s table. “Let them go, Wrecker.”

 “No, they’re fine!” Wrecker shakes out the garment before lovingly wadding them up in a ball. 

“Are you kriffing serious?” Echo asks, appalled. He begins counting on his fingers, using his scomp to point at each digit for emphasis. “They’re threadbare. They’re covered in holes. They smell like something crawled into them, died, and decomposed.” That last point counted for three. 

Tech chuckles. “That is an apt description.” 

“If I washed them, it would wash the luck off,” Wrecker says as if it is the most obvious thing in the world. 

“You haven’t washed them?” Echo cries. “Wrecker! That has to be a healthcode violation!” 

 Wrecker shoves the wad of cloth in his crate, and kicks the box under his bed. “What does it matter to you?” he asks. “They aren’t hurting anyone.” 

“The smell brings literal tears to my eyes!” Echo argues.

Wrecker smiles. “Not my fault you’re so sensitive.” 

Echo rolls his eyes. Obviously, this is an argument he is not going to win. 

**

Crosshair puts a hand over his nose. “Ugh, what is that vile smell?” 

 “Aw, shut up, Cross, they’re not that bad,” Wrecker says, pulling his offensive blacks from his pack. 

“They smell worse than they’ve ever smelled! What did you do to them?” 

Wrecker scowls. “Echo tried throwing them away, so I had to hide them. They never got a chance to air out.” 

“Kriff, you had one job, Echo,” Crosshair gripes. 

“He literally dug them out of the trash,” Echo grumbles, putting his helmet on and making sure the filter is on. 

“I don’t go around throwing away your guys’ stuff,” Wrecker grumbles. 

“Tell you what,” Crosshair says. “If I ever become insane enough to have something that disgusting, you have permission to burn it.”

Wrecker mutters something rude in Huttese, and begins to try untangling the limbs of the undersuit from their wadded mass. As he works at a particularly difficult knot, there is a loud ripping sound. Wrecker gasps. “Oh, no!” 

“You can’t honestly be surprised,” Crosshair deadpans. “Those threads were held together by filth alone.” 

“No, no, you don’t understand. I need these!” Wrecker cries, and Echo is stunned to realize that the giant is actually crying. 

If the startled look on Crosshair’s face is anything to go by, the sniper is just as surprised. 

Wrecker drops down into one of the crash seats, cradling the torn blacks in his hands. “I was wearing these the day that detonation went wrong,” he says, voice thick. He reaches up and touches the scars on the side of his head. “Could’ve killed me, but it didn’t. Ever–” his voice breaks, and he starts again. “Ever since, whenever I feel nervous about a mission, I’d wear these blacks, and nothing bad would happen, or if it did, it would turn out okay, ya know?” 

The tearful confession leaves Echo feeling lousy for trying to throw the blacks away to begin with.

“Listen, Wrecker,” Crosshair says. “Those blacks can’t do kark.” 

Echo scowls at the sniper. He isn’t helping. At all. 

But the man isn’t finished. “But if they could,” he continues, “you wouldn’t have to wear the whole thing for them to work. Here, give them to me.” 

Wrecker hesitates, sniffs, but hands the ruined article over. 

Crosshair pulls out a short blade, finds the cuff off one sleeve, and cuts it off. He holds up the circle of fabric. “Wear this. It’ll work the same.” 

“How do you know?” Wrecker asks, taking the cuff and slipping it over his wrist. 

“Because I said so,” Crosshair says. “If you can decide that a pair of blacks is good luck, I can decide that one cuff is just as lucky. Besides, now you can wear it all the time without worrying about it falling off your body.” 

Wrecker gives Crosshair a wobbly smile. “Thanks, Cross.” 

“Don’t mention it,” Crosshair grunts. He holds out the remainder of the fabric. “Now get rid of these before the noxious fumes kill one of us.”

Wrecker takes them, stroking the mutilated threads. “We had a good run,” he tells them. 

Crosshair rolls his eyes, but there is no heat in the action.   

Echo grins under his helmet. He knew the man was soft. 

END

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[feminist-space]

"In the age of smart fridges, connected egg crates, and casino fish tanks doubling as entry points for hackers, it shouldn’t come as a surprise that sex toys have joined the Internet of Things (IoT) party.

But not all parties are fun, and this one comes with a hefty dose of risk: data breaches, psychological harm, and even physical danger.

Let’s dig into why your Bluetooth-enabled intimacy gadget might be your most vulnerable possession — and not in the way you think.

The lure of remote-controlled intimacy gadgets isn’t hard to understand. Whether you’re in a long-distance relationship or just like the convenience, these devices have taken the market by storm.

According to a 2023 study commissioned by the U.K.’s Department for Science, Innovation, and Technology (DSIT), these toys are some of the most vulnerable consumer IoT products.

And while a vibrating smart egg or a remotely controlled chastity belt might sound futuristic, the risks involved are decidedly dystopian.

Forbes’ Davey Winder flagged the issue four years ago when hackers locked users into a chastity device, demanding a ransom to unlock it.

Fast forward to now, and the warnings are louder than ever. Researchers led by Dr. Mark Cote found multiple vulnerabilities in these devices, primarily those relying on Bluetooth connectivity.

Alarmingly, many of these connections lack encryption, leaving the door wide open for malicious third parties.

If you’re picturing some low-stakes prank involving vibrating gadgets going haywire, think again. The risks are far graver.

According to the DSIT report, hackers could potentially inflict physical harm by overheating a device or locking it indefinitely. Meanwhile, the psychological harm could stem from sensitive data — yes, that kind of data — being exposed or exploited.

A TechCrunch exposé revealed that a security researcher breached a chastity device’s database containing over 10,000 users’ information. That was back in June, and the manufacturer still hasn’t addressed the issue.

In another incident, users of the CellMate connected chastity belt reported hackers demanding $750 in bitcoin to unlock devices. Fortunately, one man who spoke to Vice hadn’t been wearing his when the attack happened. Small mercies, right?

These aren’t isolated events. Standard Innovation Corp., the maker of the We-Vibe toy, settled for $3.75 million in 2017 after it was discovered the device was collecting intimate data without user consent.

A sex toy with a camera was hacked the same year, granting outsiders access to its live feed.

And let’s not forget: IoT toys are multiplying faster than anyone can track, with websites like Internet of Dongs monitoring the surge.

If the thought of a connected chastity belt being hacked makes you uneasy, consider this: sex toys are just a small piece of the IoT puzzle.

There are an estimated 17 billion connected devices worldwide, ranging from light bulbs to fitness trackers — and, oddly, smart egg crates.

Yet, as Microsoft’s 2022 Digital Defense Report points out, IoT security is lagging far behind its software and hardware counterparts.

Hackers are opportunistic. If there’s a way in, they’ll find it. Case in point: a casino lost sensitive customer data after bad actors accessed its network through smart sensors in a fish tank.

If a fish tank isn’t safe, why would we expect a vibrating gadget to be?

Here’s where the frustration kicks in: these vulnerabilities are preventable.

The DSIT report notes that many devices rely on unencrypted Bluetooth connections or insecure APIs for remote control functionality.

Fixing these flaws is well within the reach of manufacturers, yet companies routinely fail to prioritize security.

Even basic transparency around data collection would be a step in the right direction. Users deserve to know what’s being collected, why, and how it’s protected. But history suggests the industry is reluctant to step up.

After all, if companies like Standard Innovation can get away with quietly siphoning off user data, why would smaller players bother to invest in robust security?

So, what’s a smart-toy enthusiast to do? First, ask yourself: do you really need your device to be connected to an app?

If the answer is no, then maybe it’s best to go old school. If remote connectivity is a must, take some precautions.

Keep software updated: Ensure both the device firmware and your phone’s app are running the latest versions. Updates often include critical security patches.

Use secure passwords: Avoid default settings and choose strong, unique passwords for apps controlling your devices.

Limit app permissions: Only grant the app the bare minimum of permissions needed for functionality.

Vet the manufacturer: Research whether the company has a history of addressing security flaws. If they’ve been caught slacking before, it’s a red flag.

The conversation around sex toy hacking isn’t just about awkward headlines — it’s about how we navigate a world increasingly dependent on connected technology. As devices creep further into every corner of our lives, from the bedroom to the kitchen, the stakes for privacy and security continue to rise.

And let’s face it: there’s something uniquely unsettling about hackers turning moments of intimacy into opportunities for exploitation.

If companies won’t take responsibility for protecting users, then consumers need to start asking tough questions — and maybe think twice before connecting their pleasure devices to the internet.

As for the manufacturers? The message is simple: step up or step aside.

No one wants to be the next headline in a tale of hacked chastity belts and hijacked intimacy. And if you think that’s funny, just wait until your light bulb sells your Wi-Fi password.

This is where IoT meets TMI. Stay connected, but stay safe."

https://thartribune.com/government-warns-couples-that-sex-toys-remain-a-tempting-target-for-hackers-with-the-potential-to-be-weaponized/

[tomwilkinsstreetphotography]

Musing For Music

[Cardiff Market, Cardiff UK]

Canon EOS 550D | EF-S 18-55mm

f/6.3, 1/319s, ISO800

In this striking image from the Unapologetically Cardiff series, a man is immersed in the quiet ritual of crate-digging at Kelly’s Records, a beloved institution within Cardiff Market. The high-arched industrial ceiling, adorned with iron beams and vintage lighting, frames the scene with a sense of history and permanence. Sunlight streams through the expansive glass windows, casting a warm yet moody glow over the rows of vinyl, their spines whispering stories of eras past.

The man, clad in a dark jacket and carrying a well-worn satchel, exudes the air of a seasoned collector, his fingers deftly flipping through records in search of a hidden gem. Around him, plastic crates overflow with vinyl, some spilling onto the floor, reinforcing the sense of tactile nostalgia that defines record hunting. The market’s subdued hustle lingers in the background, a reminder of the city’s character—unpolished, authentic, and rich with cultural heritage.

This photograph captures more than just a moment; it encapsulates the spirit of Cardiff—its independent businesses, its unwavering love for music, and its unapologetic embrace of those who find beauty in the analog world amidst the digital age.

[omies-odd-writing-spot]

Lifeboat 09 Mirth makes the time go by

[Story also on Ao3] This also was my add to GT july but...day late. good luck it being on time for that <.<

Chapter 09:

It did, in fact, take a longer time to get home for Sesa then she normally would have taken if alone. Talking to someone who she had to keep a sharp ear out for was interesting. As well as challenge to also keep watch over. 

Not that Lana was proving to be the kind of person to get into trouble on her own for the sake of it. Or to just bolt with an opening. No, the semi little beach lizards themselves decided that the Bitta smelled tastier than the last scraps from the fish that Sesa gave them.

“Good gods, what's wrong with them?” Sesa demanded, holding Lana against her front, pulling one of the big sailed males off her hip. And gently tossed it into the water off the dock. Knowing it was perfectly safe for it to swim, not the first she dropped off the dock. 

“I don't want to be eaten by dinosaurs,” Lana whimpered from where she was within Sesa's hold. Being grabbed and yanked away from gravity, let alone from the sail backed creatures in time was… well, at least Sesa did not seem to care that Lana had been sick. Transferring Lana to Sesa's other hand and just shook off the bit of yuk to her.

Really, Lana sees and meets her second clear dinosaur and they try to eat her with no hesitation. At least the ‘birdies’ were very friendly! To the point of demanding to rest with Lana in her spot on the mast. Lana got to pet the creatures and accidentally triggered the ones sitting on the shelf with her into an intensive grooming session. 

Sesa was moving, making sure no other of the lizards were on her before stepping over to her boat. Sail nearly folded up and tied to the dock. The giant reached down to grab and pull the mostly empty crate onto the dock, then stood up. “I hate to say it, but I think you're going to be safer in this while I load the wagon.”

“Yeah…” Lana could only sag against the supporting digits. “I'm… I'm sorry I threw up on your other hand.”

Lana sounded so guilty that Sesa paused to look down at the Bitta. Feeling her own guilt but still glad Lana was safe, “There's nothing to be sorry about Lana. I can wash my hand, but you wouldn't have likely survived missing a limb. I'll get you safe on the wagon here, and you can sit still.”

“Are there a lot of those at your house?” Lana worried as she was carried to the wagon that was just as titanic as Sesa's boat. The tiny human watching with wide eyes as the crate of safety was moved to what looked like the footwell of the riding section.

Lana realized she had no experience with wagons, no idea what parts were called but some basics.

���Thankfully no,” Sesa said as she made sure the crate was secure. In its spot, as well as running her hands over the outside to make sure that none of the beach lizards could get inside. “There's lizards, but not any that eat more than bugs and plants in the garden. They have little sticky feet, but like the outside walls then coming in most times.” 

Lana peered over the edge of the big hand, watching as Sesa nudged a few things inside. Mostly making sure the lifeboat was back on the scarf, and nothing spilled other than the water in the lid but that had already drained. None of the berries seemed tossed from in that boat. Sesa double checked that no beach lizards were on the wagon before lowering Lana inside the crate. “I'm going to put a weight on top for now, just to keep anything from knocking the lid open.”

“That seems like a good idea,” Lana wavered as she slid off. Grabbing at the nearest support of Sesa's hand. Took a breath and got her balance coordination back. “they can't dig in or claw in right?” 

“Only time they've gotten into a box was when I left the lid off it.” Sesa was still checking outside. “It's not fully sealed, I made these to drain water. I'll hear you for sure if you call out, no more open wind like on the boat. Ready?”

Lana flushed and backed away from the hand she was still partly leaning against. “Right, okay. It's loading and safe, right?”

“Loading, home and safe.” Sesa agreed, not minding that she would have to do all the loading and unloading. She fitted the lid and firmly wedged it down, finding something heavy to put on top before hesitating. Hand touching one of the sides, double checking that the few gaps were not large enough for any aggressive lizard heads. Sesa could have sworn she felt something tap her finger, but was not fully sure so drew back. “Call if you need, I'll get everything up and loaded. Maybe distract these brats.”

Sesa sighed and then moved away, shooing some of the beach lizards. Lana called them…dinosaurs? Something like that. They were almost acting normal now, trilling at her on the way back to the dock. “Rude, all of you, why did you try and eat the Bitta? Lana isn't good, and don't listen to those bad fairytales.”

Did the beach lizards understand her? Likely not so much, but it helped that little bit for relieving some stress. Sesa scrubbed her hands in the sand before stepping back onto the boat. Taking time to just unload everything in the late afternoon-evening light into the dock. Gear and supplies, only talking most care with the dry goods and the bolt of fabric to go put in the wagon. Sesa hesitated in some confusion, as it looked like Asin's handwriting on several crates. Like he had put things into some of the returned crates from others? One crate was definitely not her own and instead something that came.from the store shipments likely. It smelled like…baking things? Was there a mix up? Sesa turned the crate, pretty sure someone put that in her boat instead of by the dock. She was about to open it and saw the paper tacked to the other side. This had her drowning and then lifted the paper.

Not a mistake. Don't think of leaving it. Take what's the real value of the fish in trade, you stubborn woman. 

Next time you're in town, Sesa, bring me some fresh and dried mushrooms! I'll find some more mini plants for you.

Loves from Cally.

Yes I told Asin to hide all the goods in your boat. 

Sesa stared at the letter, thinking of the woman that did not come up to her chest. A woman she really did not want to be on the bad side of, or even a grumpy angle of her. Sesa opened the crate and took a shakey breath, startled but also understood why some of the crates were so heavy. Cally had stuffed them full.

Going back to the dock, Sesa carefully opened each crate, double checking now, to find what needed to stay dry. A few were filled with goods from others she had traded the fish for. Sesa was noticing a bit more of a generous amount from the others, and stood to squint over where Lana was on the wagon. Wondering to herself if this was the Bitta’s good luck. Normally people from town were a lot more stingy than this in Sesa's experience.

Sesa paused once.the wagon was loaded, walking over to check on said Bitta. “Are you okay Lana?”

“Yeah, it's a lot more stable now.” The little voice spoke up from inside, “how's it going out there?” 

“Everything is loaded that's going home.” Sesa assured, picking a onle of the beach lizards off the wheel, giving its own sail like fin a run before gently dropping it off on the ground. “Just going to put the gear away. And Buck should be close enough to hear me.”

“Buck?” Lana asked confused from in the crate. “Who's that?”

“He's the critter that pulls the wagon.” Sesa laughed, “I let him graze around the cove when I'm out fishing, good boy that knows to stay near his wagon.”

“Oh…oooh, that's going to be….big.” Lana realized, and Sesa just barely caught the softer words, “Why is everything so big? Is something in the water?”

Sesa grinned, covering her mouth and chuckling as she walked back to the dock and boat. With everything else moved it was not hard or long for the woman to put away the fishing gear in a shed well up off the shoreline. Then the sails, take the mast down and.pull the boat into the bigger shed that John had helped her make a few years ago. 

She paused at finding a note, the other hermit had come down the mountain and stopped by the cove. Leaving a net made bag filled with some good sized nuts inside that she liked. An offering to see when she would be in town next and if he could trade some of his bear hunt for some things. “Pfft, little do you know, you stubborn man.”

There was a low snort that had Sesa smiling more, taking one of the nuts out and offering it in a flat hand. The big creature rumbled happily at the treat, following Sesa back to the wagon. The woman set the bag of nuts on the seat, made sure the brakes were set, “Okay, found Buck. We can get home now.”

“This sounds so weird, but you might want to tie the box?” Lana spome up, and as Sesa looked over the tiny bita was sitting at a corner and peering out of one of the slightly larger gaps. Watching Sesa get the beastie into his gear and lined up.

“I can, had an idea too,” Sesa assured, coming back after judging the weight in the wagon. She paused to pull off the outer layers of shirts, so she just had her sleeveless under shirt, and pulled the vest over top. Checking the pockets. Then finding some line to tie the crate, moving the weight off to open the lid and peer inside, “Didn't spend all my money did you?” 

“I thought that was for me?” Lana asked, having been sitting on the coin pouch to look out. “Should only take  ...two days to move one thing inside.”

“Well, it shouldn't take more than a few months to move the coins.” Sesa grinned wide at the playful tone. She hesitated a moment before offering a hand near but not beside Lana, “Want to see some of the trip? I promise not to pull you around again if I can help it.”

The little Bitta blinked at the large hand. Then looked up, Sesa could have sworn there was a look like Lana did want to but hesitated. Remembering the beach lizards, the giant woman spoke again.

“You'll be riding with me, out of the reach of the lizards.” She started to pull back but froze as a small hand reached out, catching a finger tip. Sesa smiled again, not as big but delighted that there was some trust shown. The woman just hoped she was not forcing that trust as Sesa carefully lifted Lana out.

“Can we look at some of the local… pla…ants… what is that?” Lana started to ask and then trailed off at seeing the big burden beast now attached to the wagon. 

Buck it's name was, he was dosing a bit while standing in the rigging to the wagon. Massive enough that it's, his back came up to Sesa's chest, it had a broad back and hips. It had what looked like plates of natural armor over its back, hips and shoulders going down about half way. The beast had a base color of dart gray and highlights of brown striping down its legs and on its neck.

“This is Buck, he's my bull Parua.” Sesa introduced as she cupped both hands around Lana. Moving to let her see the Parua creature. “He's wagon trained, the cows are back home, they should be giving both here soon in spring.”

“It's amazing,” Lana's soft voice spoke, trying to peek over the edge of Sesa's fingers and look at Buck's legs. It reminded her of something. Something that tickles the back of your mind but just could not be grasped yet. It was almost alike an elephant, the legs and sort of the build but not exactly. Not like any big dinosaurs either. 

The big creature's face was surprisingly soft. It had larger lips like a horse or a cow, or other grazers like that. Large ears flicked and he sighed looking back at Sesa. As if asking if they were going yet.

“Para…?”

“Par-oo-ah.” Sesa sounded the word out as clear as she could. “Parua. Good livestock and working animals.”

“Parua…” Lana managed the name. “They, um, don't eat meat right?”

“Only grazers,” Sesa assured, but did not take Lana coae to Buck's head. This seemed close enough for the Bitta. “Never seen them even bother the garden birds, or anything small..but you don't need to worry about them. Like I said you'll be riding with me.”

“How?” Lana asked, still distracted by Buck it took a moment for her to look back. Blinking and then gave a nervous giggle at seeing Sesa messing with a small, high up breast pocket on her vest. “Really?”

“It's not deep,” Sesa offered, reflex using her free hand to poke a finger into the pocket that was indeed shallow.

Lana stared at the spot with an unreadable expression. Enough that Sesa started to deflate a bit, worried that she ended up with a bad idea after all. Then the Bitta dissolved into giggling in her hand. 

“I'm… pocket sized?”

Sesa blinked and then gave a relieved sigh, smiling a bit at hearing the giggles. At least she did not seem to be offended by Sesa's idea. “You are, I guess. But if you don't like it we can find a different way of…transport.”

Sesa knew everything was going to get shaken up on the wagon. Thus the extra padding that Asin had done for the small things. She did not want to shake Lana up as well, and was at least sure her own pace was smooth. Lana at least seemed willing to try, and it ended up with her standing in the vest pocket and could fold her arms over the edge of the spot. Looking around, the Bitta notably relaxed a little bit after a few paces of the giant walking to pull the breaks.

Lana felt surprisingly secure there. Then blinked and looked all around now that Sesa was moving and walking alongside Buck. Staring up at the trees, many were well over a good hundred feet tall, old growth trees for sure. Or ancient growth? They were definitely on a cleared path that was wider than the wagon, some smaller shoots of trees on the edges of the path.

Then Lana took in the ‘undergrowth’ between the massive trees, even bigger than Sesa. Who had to easily be between thirty and forty feet herself. The young woman squinted, realizing the grass she was seeing was not, in fact grasses. Lana nudged and pushed at Sesa’s chest, “What’s that?”

“Hmm?” the giant woman rumbled a confused sound. Glancing at Lana and then tried to see what she was looking at. “Stiff grass? It's been going wild the last few years, but they help with erosion.”

“Can I see it?” Lana asked, twisting in the pocket to look up at Sesa’s face, brightened when the giant shrugged lightly with her right shoulder away from Lana.

Sesa queued Buck to slow down before reaching up to help Lana. Really just catching the excited bitta from falling. Sesa was not quite sure how she ended up crouched on the side of the path, holding a tiny human between her hands so that Lana could reach for the ‘grass.’ but watching tiny hands grabbing at the thick grass, and then looked started at the excited yell the followed.

“IT’S CORN!” Lana yelled after unwinding a pod. Buck stopped and turned his head around to try and find the new voice while Lana was tossing up her arms in her own shock, “What. The. Hell. Is this place?”

“Cor-en?” Sesa echoed, baffled, but smiling at the excitement expressed. And at a demand shifted her hands closer to the biggest of the thick grass plants that had a bunch of pods from last fall but were not eaten yet by any wild parua. “Are you going to want to see every plant on the way home?”

Lana looked up, eyes wide, “Yes.”

The instant response and the complete lack of any silliness or sarcasm but the clear want to see all the plants had Sesa laughing. Closing her hands around Lana to both buffer the loud sound and to hold her as steady as possible while Sesa’s shoulders shook. “It’s going to take forever to get home…pffft!”

What normally would take an hour and half, took almost three as after so long Lana demanded to see something she spotted. Amassing a little collection in ‘her’ crate, foodstuffs that she readily recognized mixed into the wild weeds that Sesa knew them as. Even though it took much longer than normal, it did not seem like it. Only all at once realizing it was nearly dark by the time Sesa’s home came into view.

[whyileftthemusicindustry2024]

Why I left the music industry

By Lia Holland

About the Author The first thirteen years of Lia Holland (they/she)’s career were spent in the music and events industry, founding Bassnectar’s Ambassador Program, Electric Forest Festival’s Plug In Program as an employee at AEG Presents’ Madison House Presents, and Bassnectar’s Be Interactive nonprofit. Lia now works in digital and human rights activism. 

On January 25, I gave an eight hour deposition in a suit against my first employer, Lorin Ashton a.k.a. Bassnectar, for sex trafficking and child pornography. This journey took years. In fact, I’ve spent over a year working to protect my physical safety alone.

I first met Lorin online in 2007, when I was seventeen. He recruited me to put up posters, but I quickly became more. A hardworking superfan, I helped manage his Facebook, then sold merchandise on tour.

From the outset, I confided in Lorin about severe abuse from my overt narcissist mother. And when she gambled away my college fund after my family faced financial ruin in the 2008 crisis, getting on his tour bus in 2009 was my escape.

Out on the road, others spoke of Lorin very differently than as a sensitive-yet-righteous recluse. However, I had my first job, one that I desperately needed. I started crate-digging music blogs for the live show, taking the first ‘family photos’ of Lorin with the crowd, managing record releases, and did wide-ranging executive assistant work for both Lorin and his tour manager, Elliott Dunwody. Over the next two years, I organized support for nonprofits and activists at shows and online, founded the Dollar Per Basshead charity program, and founded the Ambassador fan volunteer program.

From the outside, I had the world’s coolest job. Yet I lived in a state of anxiety and burnout. Even when I quit in early 2012, I couldn't tell where my sense of fear and exhaustion was coming from. I thought that various superiors wanted to get rid of me. And up until Rachel Ramsbottom's recording came out on the Evidence Against Bassnectar Instagram account, I believed that Lorin, too, was a victim of incompetence and malice in turns.

  Now, I know better. Looking back, I believe I was manipulated to think that Lorin was the true victim. Today, it is easy for me to believe the women who have come forward with stories of being abused by Lorin. Articles repeatedly quote Lorin's aggressive legal team threatening individuals and reporters alike with lawsuits. And, if I were them, I would be highly motivated to punish me. To minimize the likelihood of Lorin suing me into bankruptcy and avoid contributing to any dynamic that his publicity team might pretend exonerates him, I must be careful. So, while incredibly painful, I hope that someday my whole story gets out. Giving this deposition was the culmination of over three years of hard personal work, guilt, shame, and ultimately the insight that freed me: I saw that what happened to me was intentional. It was only possible after my childhood of grooming from an overt narcissist, and all I can do now is take my power back.

In order to do so, I recognized that I had to end my career in the music industry. My experience of the industry, from grungy clubs to celebrated stadiums to some of the US’s largest music festivals, is that it is a very small place. You get gigs based on your relationships and your reputation. Everyone’s first job is to protect the musicians, even and especially from themselves—and coming forward would show I wasn’t willing to do that anymore. In a highly competitive industry, that is all you need to lose your livelihood. With few labor rights or other protections for music industry workers, this tyranny of bad behavior and culture of retaliation has no end in sight. Frankly, I’m done with the idea that you have to grin and bear assholes even as they take credit for your work.

Even my independent festival clients who might stand by me also depended on relationships with large monopolies of artist booking and management that are wrapped up with event ticketing giants, media conglomerates, venues, and vendors. And so I helped these festivals return from COVID while, painfully, training my replacement and beginning a new career in human rights advocacy.

Extricating myself from my first career has been profoundly isolating—because the truth is that I never really left Lorin’s orbit after I first quit in 2012. I worked with his collaborators and with the sister company of his booking agency on Electric Forest, a festival he headlined for years. Then, expecting new management would provide a better work environment, I returned to found Bassnectar’s Be Interactive nonprofit as its Executive Director in 2018. I profoundly regret doing so. But at the time, I couldn’t see that what I had been taught was the normal behavior of a genius artist, wasn’t. I broke out of my toxic cage thanks to the profound bravery of others who revealed new lows in Lorin’s conduct—lows that had been unthinkable to me.

Few people felt safe to speak to about any of this, because many of my friends were connected to him or in the industry. I was afraid his aggressive legal team would sue me. I also feared that unstable and violent people among his fan base would harm me. Wracked with shame, I faced threats and harassment myself. The gender-based violence nonprofits that helped me prepare for this day told me my instinct for silent self-preservation was spot-on. Then, I got my incredible attorney, and my plans became privileged even from my handful of confidants. Today, finally, my silence ends.

I’ve never been particularly good at standing up for myself, but I’ve always been a passionate advocate for others. And now I recognize that my advocacy also must rest in who I give my power to: that if they mistreat me, it is likely that such behavior extends beyond me. Today is the ultimate reminder of the importance of choosing my collaborators more wisely, and I encourage all those who remain in the entertainment industry, but are legally or economically forbidden from speaking out, to do the same.

Resources

RAINN and the National Sexual Assault Telephone Hotline: https://www.rainn.org/about-national-sexual-assault-telephone-hotline

Equality Labs’ Anti-Doxing Guide: https://www.equalitylabs.org/research/publications-resources/

Why Does He Do That? Inside the Minds of Angry and Controlling Men, by Lundy Buncroft: https://archive.org/details/LundyWhyDoesHeDoThat

Navigating Narcissism Podcast: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=i5BFyvPbIUA

[omanxl1]

Idris Muhammad ‎– Boogie To The Top

Digital Crate Digging Continues..checking out one of my favorite percussionists  Idris Muhammad ‎– with his joint called Boogie To The Top. It has kind of a latin jazz / disco feel to it…check out the players and the track.. Baritone Saxophone – Ronnie Cuber Bass – Will Lee Drums – Idris Muhammad Guitar – Hiram Bullock Harp – Gloria Agostini Keyboards – Cliff Carter Percussion – Nicky Marrero,…

[ultravioletfuture]

ULTRAVIOLET VISIONS: Mid August New Releases

Hello everyone! This week I've been going back and listening to some things I picked up during this month's Bandcamp Friday, as well as doing some digital crate-digging through the Vaporwave/Plunderphonic tags on Bandcamp. Let's get started with some of the new releases that have been in my rotation this week!

Starting off with the new Tabby release,"Macintosh Hell, this is one of the releases I picked up on Bandcamp Friday over at the Pause and Reflect Music label. This is actually my first release I've heard from Tabby and I have been pleasantly suprised. Macintosh Hell is 14 tracks of pure Vapor/Electronic vibes that fluctuate between upbeat and joyful tracks like the opener "Online", to heavier tracks like "Hacker". The vocal sampling is a core piece to this record and is something I instantly gravitated towards like in the track "Personalized Entertainment”. I love the heavy Electronics in tracks like "The Second Big Bang" where the synths creep in so beautifully, bringing you this larger than life soundscape that is so cinematic. The instrumentals of this record remind me of sounds you'd hear in something death's dynamic shroud's "Darklife" mixed with the terminally online lingo and presence of something like Death Grips "The Money Store" or JPEGMAFIA's "Veteran". Overall this album has been an extremely refreshing blend of my favorite Electronic sounds with some of my favorite Vaporwave tropes. With this record, Tabby has cemented themselves in my brain as an artist to keep a look out for in the future. Favorite songs: Online, Hacker, The Second Big Bang, Every Lie We Had.

"Someday We'll Find It" was a surprise collaboration announcement between the amazing Scarlett Lemieux and Serenade Systems Incorporated (aka Amanita), and released this Tuesday on First Class Collective! This album is a split release filled with 10 slushy Vaporwave tracks with 5 tracks by Scarlett and 5 tracks by Amanita. There is a common atmosphere of this "stage play" vibe where the collections of songs sound very large and grand, as well as having these sorta interludes between of sampled songs from the Muppets (something I would've never guessed to hear in a Vaporwave album lol). Scarlett and Amanita compliment each other beautifully and crafted this nostalgic mesh of ambient and slushwave where each song makes you reminisce childhood regardless of whether you recognize or relate to the sample material or not. Definitely a recommended listen as is a very unique blend of atmospheres for a Vaporwave release. Favorite tracks: Go Back There, Labyrinth Walk, A Call From A Child's Dimension

"Trois Mouvements" is the newest release from up and coming ambient vapor artist, Endless Corridors. I've been aware of this artist since their debut back in April last year over at Skyline Tapes. The album runs a little over 30 minutes and is split between 3 tracks, "I, II, and III". "I" starts off by building an incredible atmosphere with 13 minutes of smooth, ethereal pads that make you feel like you're gazing through skyscrapers in a city. As the song develops, the sounds start to crackle and deteriorate as we enter the track "II". "II" is a darker piece in comparison where we start off in a more simple somber note and then gradually progress into more harsh noises and textures. A little bit past the halfway mark is when things sound like they are coming to a climax as the track wails towards the end before entering "III". "III" ends the album off in such a beautiful way. The rain has fizzled out and we are left with extremely soft pads as this low key arpeggio comes in as if to welcome you and rewarding you for making it here. A flute melody comes in and is accompanied by these soft plucked pianos that make you feel so personally connected to the sounds being presented to you. An extremely gratifying ending with such a slow satisfying build up towards the end as we wind down and close off this beautiful sonic atmosphere. Favorite track: III

"MEMORIES保存する価値がある" is the latest release from classic vapor/mallsoft artist, 𝕄ꌦꌚ✞ỉር Ⓜᗩ爪𝕭ꋬ. Memories shows off Mystic Mamba's classic vapor style with their love and connection to the sample material. This record feels like a personal trip down Memory lane through this wide sonic atmosphere as we revisit songs from Mystic Mambas past. I think they gave such an accurate description to the emotions you may feel when listening in their description:

Sometimes, a special person enters your life. Someone with whom you share numerous wonderful experiences. Someone who you grow to love, as a friend, as extended family, as someone you could call a partner. And you feel like things are meant to last forever, but sometimes, that’s not how things turn out. The wonderful times come to an end, and while that may be sad, it does not mean that you should live with regret. Because those memories brought you happiness. The laughter, the smiles, the peace you shared, that’s what matters in the end. And those memories are worth saving…

I typically never gravitate towards mallsoft styled music, but this album feels very personally hand crafted to mimic a curated mixtape of tracks from their past that specifically remind them more than just a time, but a person and their connection with them as well. It's very common to invoke nostalgia in Vaporwave, but to invoke the feeling of longing for a personal time period in one's life is truly special worth listening to. Favorite tracks: ⓢ☋❡ꍏ☈Ϝ♗♫ꍏ, ❡ꍏ♔♗♫❡ Ϝ⊙☈ ♄⊙☋☈ⓢ, ⓢ​⌘​ⓢ​ω

Spencer Hodo dropped a small 2 track release over on the Anti-Club label. Both tracks feature Hodo's classic eclectic blend of break-beats and electronic music. Hodo wastes no time with these tracks and just hammers down idea after idea in order to keep things moving without staying still for too long. The first track "due diligence" is extremely electronic and glitchy at its core. Thee synths are shifting into different rhythms and melodies every second while retaining their familiarity. The drum breaks on this track are meticulously chopped to keep the track in a constant state of flow and movement. The second track "intentional lands" starts off on the opposite spectrum with its more acoustic sounds of a guitar melody on top of some more low-key drumming. Around the 1:20 mark is when things start to come to fruition with this insane wailing synth sequence that somehow blends perfectly with the original guitar without sounding at sonic odds. What we're left with is this beautiful blend of organic sounds mixed with electronic sequences. Favorite track: intentional lands This month's releases have been amazing so far and I highly recommend everyone to give each and every one of these projects a listen. If you have any newer releases you'd like me to cover, feel free to send me submissions over at my Discord, in the submissions tab here on my blog, or send an email at portals.rwb@gmail.com. Thank you all for checking out this week's UVF blog and please share it around to your friends :). I'm gonna try and come out with a new post every Friday and cover things from New Releases in the scene as well as albums Ive just been listening to and highly recommend. Have a great Friday UVF! -portal.uvf

[tseecka]

I peel oranges neatly.

The sections come apart cleanly, perfectly in my hands.

***

One day, Ximena buys Jayce a crate of oranges.

She hands it to him one Sunday morning; he still visits every Sunday, makes time early in the morning before the sun has even risen to find his way to the meagre Talis estate and let himself through the front gate and into her warm kitchen, where spiced chocolate is always steaming and waiting for him. She asks him about his work; she asks him about the Council, and about Hextech, and about the forge, and about Viktor and Heimerdinger and the Academy.

He asks her about her garden, and helps her remove and clean and oil the joints of her digital prostheses.

She tuts over a new burn or scrape on his hands--which have never been cared for properly, the skin red and inflamed around the site, a mild infection setting in. She finds the antiseptic and the gauze, withdrawn from the first aid kid mounted next to the kitchen sink, and does her best to clean it, and he indulges her. She is, after all, his mother. He hasn't needed her in a long time, but this is something he can do for her, let her mother him, and it's nice to sit in his childhood home with her fussing over his hand while the mug of chocolate warms his palm, a pleasant soothe against the sharp sting of disinfectant.

This is their weekly morning ritual; it does not typically involve oranges.

(Remaining fic under the cut, or you can read it on Archive of Our Own!)

"I know for a fact," she tells him mildly, digging out a sharp splinter of metal that got lodged at the base of his thumb two nights ago, "that you and that Viktor of yours don't eat nearly enough."

"Ma..." Jayce sighs, shaking his head. His tone is long-suffering, teasingly weary; but he can't say anything more than that, because she is unfortunately, right. There is an icebox in their lab, just a small one, installed in the corner next to the futon he liberated from his old bedroom. It's not wise to argue with Ximena Talis.

She clicks her tongue at him, and the sliver comes out, captured neatly between the precision points of her prostheses--more effective than tweezers. He winces, flexes his hand, and a drop of blood beads on his skin. He'd honestly figured it would work itself out, but she'd spotted it immediately.

"You're so busy, Jayce, I understand this; but you must eat, if only to give that brain of yours the nourishment it needs, hm? Coffee is not enough."

"Okay--but oranges?"

She tears open a small foil packet, withdrawing an antiseptic wipe from inside--a folded piece of damp towel, soaked with solution. She swipes it over the pinprick wound, wiping away the blood. "Your father always kept a crate in the forge," she says, her voice soft and fond. "He was like you--or you are like him. Always working, always moving, never a moment to stop and care for himself. But he liked oranges. The juice for his thirst, the pulp for his stomach, and the sugar for his energy. Convenient; clean." The towelette is set aside. She plucks a small square bandage out of the first aid kit, fitting the adhesive to the skin around the wound. The pale fabric stands out against his darker skin. "I used to come and sit in the forge with him while he worked and peel oranges for him." She laughs, "Useless man. For how fine his smithing was, he never could manage to peel them without smashing them to pulp."

Jaye laughs with her. He doesn't remember his father very well, but the recollection of a toddler brings to mind an enormous bear of a man, with strong, large hands. Maybe larger than they would have been in reality, memory unable to adjust to the passing of time, still remembering a palm and fingers broad enough to encompass the top of his head. It's easy to imagine hands as massive as that trying, and failing, in the delicate operation of removing a peel without damanging the fruit inside.

"Anyways," Ximena continues, folding both her hands over Jayce's one and smiling at him. Crow's feet wrinkle at the corners of her eyes; deep lines form from her nose to the corners of her mouth, etched by the years. "They were on sale. Take them with you and keep them in your lab. Then I will worry less, hm?"

"All right," Jayce agrees, laying his other hand on top of hers and squeezing gently. She is his mother; far be it from him to reject this expression of her love. At worst, they will turn green and fuzzy and end up in next week's trash. At best--a juicy segment of orange now and again does sound nice, against the dry acrid metallic taste of the lab's stagnant air. The bid for time doesn't go unnoticed, though, and he lingers a little longer with his mother today, seeing the gift as emblematic of her maternal worry, and doing what he can to assuage it.

She seems less sad when he leaves, the crate of oranges cradled in his arms. It is early enough still that he thinks he will reach the lab before Viktor does (unless his partner has stayed working through the night; he does that, sometimes, but if that's the case, Jayce was never going to beat him there). The aroma of citrus oil wafts into his nose the entire way to the Academy.

***

Of course they don't have fresh citrus in the Undercity.

It's not like Viktor doesn't know what they are, when he arrives at the lab later that morning (Jayce is pleased at the hour; it means Viktor likely got some real sleep the night before, and even if it was just because he was too exhausted from too many sleepness nights to fight it back any longer--a win is a win). His eyes land on the crate as he hooks his stool with his cane, pulling it over to him; he pauses, as it caught off guard.

"What...are those?"

"...Oranges?"

VIktor sighs impatiently, waving a hand at Jayce as though he's swatting at an insect nuisance. "Yes, I know what oranges are, Jayce. Why are they here?"

"Oh! My mother--a gift. She thought having some fresh fruit in the lab might encourage us to eat better."

Viktor's face shifts into a thoughtful moue, lips pulling down and eyebrows lifting as he considers, shrugs. He settles into his stool and sets the cane aside, leaning against the worktop. Jayce resists needling, asking if Viktor has had breakfast. He'll go for the oranges on his own time. It's irrational to think Ximena would somehow know, or sense, if her gift of care had been rejected. The two men settle into their work--Viktor pulling over an opened notebook and setting his pencil to the page, presumably picking up where he left off in navigating the complex mathematical proofs that have been occupying his mind, Jayce sliding his goggles down over his eyes as he turns his attention to soldering together a number of small components that, he hopes, will one day be capable of housing and conducting energy from a Hexstone. They work in a comfortable silence.

It's a couple of hours later, that Jayce--intent on his work, goggles magnifying the connections in the metal in front of him and by extension blocking out everything else in his surroundings--hears a pained hiss, followed by Viktor's huff of frustration. His back complains as he straightens--how did he end up slouched so far over--and he turns to look at Viktor. The magnification restricts his range of vision, and so it is that he sees--in extensive detail--Viktor's fingers digging like claws into the pitted skin of an orange. His index is buried in the fruit to the first knuckle; there is juice spattering the back of his hand. Hurriedly, he pushes the goggles up off of his eyes, and its in time to see the irritated embarrassment before Viktor wips it from his expression.

"...Doing okay there, Viktor?"

"No, Jayce," comes the exasperated reply. "I have citric acid in my nail bed, and this--impossible fruit refuses to come apart for me. And now my notes are covered in orange juice!"

Wordlessly, Jayce holds out a hand for the orange. Viktor drops it into his palm with another irritated eye roll, withdrawing his finger with a wet popping sound. His face twists in disgust, and he shoves his stool away from the workbench, grabbing up his cane so he can cross to where they keep the cleaning rags. Jayce listens to the retreating tapping of his cane as he considers the orange in his hands.

There are pale grooves in the skin, the pitted surface not quite scraped clean of zest, where Viktor clearly had tried to peel it; scratching at the tough exterior with blunted, chewed-off nails, obviously to no avail. He rotates it in his hands, unable to keep the bemused expression from his face as he notes the evidence of all of Viktor's attempts, culminating, finally, in a singular frustrated stab through the peel and into the flesh beneath.

"Viktor," he calls out, as he fits his own index finger into the wound and pulls, gently, teasing the pith away from the segments as the peel comes away, "what did the orange do to you?"

He hears the tapping of the cane as Viktor comes back to the workbench. He pauses next to Jayce's shoulder, watching as Jayce strips the flesh of its rind in large chunks, tugging away reluctant bits of the pith that refuse to come away cleanly. "Nothing," comes the reply. Jayce glances up at his face, then away; there's a faint tinge of pink to his cheeks, as Jayce peels the fruit with ease. "I just--didn't know the trick of it."

Which is how Jayce learns that, indeed, there are no oranges in the Undercity. And Viktor, for all that he lives in Piltover and has advantages he never could have enjoyed at home, is still staunchly loyal to the Undercity; he tends not to indulge in luxuries that are denied his compatriots. So he never had them at home; and never bothered to seek them out up here.

It's not the first time Jayce has unexpectedly run up against Viktor's rigid internal moral code, manifesting in unexpected ways in how he lives his life as a transplant from disadvantage to relative privilege. Privately, he adds this to his own list of grievances, which grows every time he learns some new angle as to how badly Piltover keeps the Undercity ground below its genteel boot.

He finishes peeling the orange for Viktor, setting the fruit on the pile of discarded rind, and shows him how to tease apart the segments so that they separate cleanly in his hands. Points out where the seeds can sometimes live, so that Viktor won't crack his teeth biting down on one. Viktor nods to him, offering a crooked little half smile, and turns back to his work, wiping away the splatters of orange juice on his notebook pages before turning over to a fresh one. Jayce waits, and watches for a moment, but Viktor seems uninterested in pursuing the fruit any further. Still--it's a good reminder to himself, as well, so he reaches out to snag his own orange from the box, rolling it along the countertop to loosen the peel before quickly stripping it down.

The taste bursts sweet across his tongue. Of course Piltover won't export oranges to the Undercity. They can't have Zaunites developing a taste for sunlight.

***

Viktor's hands are deft and skilled. Jayce knows this; has seen the evidence of his work, his elegant script in their shared notebooks, the fine detail work on the pieces and components of their creations. He has a light touch, deliberate and confident, and more than once Jayce has gotten distracted watching Viktor work. He compares Viktor's hands to his own, often; he knows his broad palms and thick fingers speak of strength, but Viktor's are no more delicate than his own, for all that they are lighter and more nimble. The both bear collections of small wounds; Viktor's nailbeds are often torn and shredded, red and inflamed at the corners where he nibbles off his hangnails and teases at flaps of loose cuticle.

And maybe that's the reason why--the remembered sting of citrus in an open wound making him shy of it--but despite his very adept hands, Viktor seems absolutely useless at peeling oranges. His nails, chewed bluntly down to the quick, can't pierce the skin; no matter how Jayce tries to help, showing him tricks of rolling the orange across a surface or digging in to the navel where it once hung from the branch, Viktor inevitably tears holes into the delicate flesh, juice squirting out in all directions as he craters into the skin. He tries, once, to bite through it with his teeth; Jayce can't help but laugh at the disgusted expression his face shifts into when the bitter oil lands on his tongue and gums.

He doesn't think Ximena would quite approve of the way in which they devour the crate of oranges between them, especially as it makes the need for trips out of the lab to the cafeteria or to the food carts on the streets outside less and less necessary; their diet dwindles down to primarily oranges, for 8 to 12 hours out of the day, when they remember to eat at all, both of them appreicative of the chance to fulfill their bodies' needs without having to get up from their work stations at all. But they're healthy, and its better than not eating anything at all, Jayce thinks--which has often been the case for Viktor, at least, unwilling to abandon his train of thought for even an hour to satisfy his body's demand for nourishment. And for all that trying to peel them frustrates the hell out of his partner, Viktor seems to have developed a taste for them.

Eventually, Viktor stops even trying. He'll reach for an orange and roll it about mindlessly on the table top for a few minutes as he thinks, or ponders a particularly challenging runic equation. He'll roll one of them back and forth between his palms as he stands at the chalkboard, eyes raking over their scrawled notes and diagrams. And sometimes, he simply grabs an orange out of their dwindling supply, and plops it next to Jayce's elbow without a word. In all cases, the wordless request is there; and every time, Jayce takes up the orange, peels it, and sets it back on Viktor's side of the table. Often--not always, but often enough--he'll get a quick smile from Viktor, a duck of his head in thanks, before he goes back to whatever he was working on or talking about.

Sometimes, he pushes the orange back to Jayce's side, and Jayce realizes that he has not in fact eaten yet that day.

Sometimes, when they get stuck, Viktor pushes his rolling stool a few more feet away. They bandy ideas back and forth, hypotheses and refutations, as they toss an orange to and fro across the lab; a break from the monotony, the bright scent of citrus oil sinking into their palms, waking up their tired minds, until one or the other has a sudden brainwave and they can get back to work.

Sometimes, in the time it takes for Jayce to peel the fruit, Viktor's mind has already moved on to something else; and the orange sits, bare and shining, skin slowly drying out in the staticky, dehumidified air of the lab. Jayce takes a certain kind of glee in pulling off a segment when this happens and waiting for an opportune moment--usually while Viktor is expounding on his latest theory, or ripping into one of Jayce's--to pop the orange into his mouth, interrupting him for a brief moment. Viktor's expression is always a delight--first the irate response to having food shoved in his mouth, but then, usually, a look of resigned bliss as he bites down, filling his mouth with a burst of flavour and brightness, and inevitably holding out his hand for the rest of his orange as he continues.

***

When Jayce visits his mother the next week, she doesn't seem surprised when he tells her, a bit sheepishly, that they've already worked through most of the crate. He tells her about peeling oranges for Viktor; he relays the series of misfortunes that Viktor has encountered, watching a soft smile spread, unconsciously, over her features. It makes him feel warm; he stumbles over the rest of his words, finishing the story lamely, but she doesn't say anything about it. Her hand rests over her heart, over the locket she wears around her neck. He doesn't know what her expression is saying.

She walks with him to work that day, forcing a detour to the produce market, where she insists on buying another crate and placing it in his arms. "You boys need to eat," she says, "and a mother worries. Oranges are better than a diet of coffee."

Its not until he kisses her cheek at the entrance to the Academy grounds and bids her a good day, tells her he loves her, that he realizes how similar his orange-story must sound to her own memories, peeling oranges for his father in the forge.

***

"More oranges, Jayce--!" is Viktor's exclamation when Jayce arrives, grimacing a little as he walks into the lab. The market detour made him later than usual. He thinks if he had gotten here first, Viktor probably wouldn't have even noticed the supply replenish, but it's hard to obscure an entire crate of fruit in ones arms.

"It's my mother," he explains, sheepish. "She is convinced we don't eat enough, and now that she knows we've been going through the oranges at a breakneck pace..." He shrugs, and sets the crate on the countertop. He tips the last few oranges from the week before on top, and tosses the empty rigid-paper crate in the direction of the door.

Viktor squints at him. "You are just enjoying my torment. You enjoy mocking me. 'Ah, poor Viktor, he is so incompetent he cannot even peel a fruit.'" The way his tongue rolls on fruit sounds like music to Jayce's ears; he can't help but laugh a little at it, which just causes Viktor's playful scowl to deepen further. "'I must continue to ply him with citrus, to keep him humble, in the hopes that he forgets that I am incompetent in everything but the peeling of oranges."

Jayce has already pulled out two oranges to approximate a breakfast for them both. He peels one in a long, continuous spiral while Viktor continues on his "tirade", plopping it down in one open palm as the gesticulations--a habit of Viktor's whenever he sets out to mock Jayce, exagerrating his admittedly expansive hand movements--come to a pause. Viktor looks down at the orange, then back up at Jayce, who grins, shrugs, and pops an orange segment into his own mouth. "You done?" he asks. "Because I can take that back, if you don't want it." Viktor's fingers curl around the globe, settling into the slight divots between the segments, cleaned of pith as best as Jayce can manage. "Mmm. That's what I thought." He turns away from Viktor, and pulls over a tray holding a pile of metal discs and a handheld grinder.

"Ridiculous man," he hears Viktor mutter; then again, the consonants shaped this time around a mouthful of orange, "absolutely ridiculous." It sounds affectionate, and pleased, and warm; like the sunshine in the orange is beaming out from Viktor's lips, washing over Jayce like a warm summer morning. Jayce shoves the remaining quarter of his own orange into his mouth, cheek bulging out as he chews, and begins notching gears.

***

It's not as though they only eat oranges. Jayce is well aware of his body's needs, to maintain his physical ability in the forge, to retain his muscle definition and physique; he takes pride in his body, he won't be ashamed of it. And, too, he is hyper aware of the needs ot Viktor's body; as it rebels against him, as it deteriorates, the need to eat a balanced diet and intake all of the essential macronutrients for survival becomes ever more present. Viktor doesn't thank him for the fuss, but Jayce keeps a careful tally of everything Viktor eats, to his knowledge, and tries to force himself out of his hyperfocused headspace when it's necessary to ensure they are both getting what their bodies need.

They still take short walks--shorter, now, than they used to be, and Jayce knows that Viktor knows even if he doesn't comment on it--to some of their favourite places, when the need to consume something that is not either coffee or an orange becomes strong enough to pull them away from the lab. When they have a breakthrough, they celebrate at a restaurant, rewarding themselves with a socially acceptable dinner (instead of digging into the work with even more fervour than before).

But every week, Ximena buys a new crate of oranges, and Jayce brings it in to the lab. The space constantly smells of citrus, now--it's a clean, bright, fresh scent, combating the metals and oils and the ozone-copper tang of magic that suffuses their working space. Jayce feels more awake when he walks in each morning, the sharpness hitting his olfactory senses and sending a signal to his brain that makes him alert and attentive. He thinks it is having an impact on Viktor, too--his mood noticeably lightens, his sharp edges of frustration growing a little fuzzier, a little softer, whenever Jayce hands him a freshly peeled orange to combat an ornery mood. He starts collecting the peels, tipping handfuls of them into the jar of vinegar they keep for cleaning their work surfaces. The orange oil infuses into the sharp, acrid vinegar, balancing out the harsh scents with something bright and warm.

And Jayce's hands--they smell like oranges all the time, the scent of it lingering in the bits of zest caught under his nails, the oils worked into his skin. He is surrounded by it; he closes his eyes and feels sun-warmed, comfortable, memories of walking through orange groves flitting through his mind's eye. It's comforting in a way that feels strange until he makes the connection--his mother, peeling oranges for his father in the forge, then coming to gather him up from his minder with orange oil on her own skin. It awakens something in his subconscious, a feeling of home and safety and family, and he realizes--

It's a scent he's started to associate with Viktor, too.

Which doesn't quite make sense--after all, Viktor doesn't peel the oranges, isn't getting his hands and fingernails sticky with orange juice, doesn't have to pry clumps of rind from under his nails when he goes home every day. It makes Jayce a little sad, to realize that this smell he associates so strongly now with Viktor and with their lab might solely be from his perspective. That maybe Viktor doesn't smell of oranges at all. That they haven't left their mark on him the same way as they leave their mark on Jayce.

How many oranges, he wonders, does a person need to eat per day before the essence starts to bleed through their skin; before their cells are infused, like the vinegar in the jar, before that brightness is lent out to their fingertips and palms? If he breathed Viktor in, would he smell of sun-bright citrus, warm and energizing, waking up Jayce's senses?

If he kissed him, would he taste oranges on his breath?

The grinder slips, scoring a rough scrape along his finger, and he bites back a yelp as he is brought forcibly back down to earth from wherever his thoughts have been wandering. Viktor's head shoots up from where he has been working on screwing together the framework for a calibrator, eyes wide and alarmed. Their gazes meet, and Jayce feels a flush creep over his cheeks.

Where did that thought come from?

***

Ximena tuts over the scrape, spanning along the side of his finger nearly from the mound of his knuckle all the way to the tip. The antiseptic solution stings, entering his skin and contacting his nerves through what must be hundreds of tiny nicks, each grain of the rough sandpaper abrading away a tiny piece of his skin.

There is another crate of oranges sitting on the counter, waiting for him to take it to the lab with him when he leaves.

He wants to ask her a question; but he doesn't know how to put it into words. About peeling oranges. About infusion. About how long something can sit in solution with something else before they become inseparable, orange oil in vinegar. It's a silly urge; he is the scientist, after all, these are things he should know, but its less about the combination of molecules than it is about something...more. Something he has no experience with, but which he knows she does; knows it in the way he thinks back to that conversation about peeling oranges, the expression on her face when she spoke about care, her hand resting over the locket, over her heart, the way his foggy memories of both his parents sharpen whenever he first splits an orange peel with his thumbnail and feels that fine mist spray into the air.

He doesn't ask her anything about that, doesn't say anything at all as she tends to his hand, wraps it up with thing gauze to prevent infection. "You're quiet today, caro," she remarks when she's done. He offers her an apologetic smile.

"Sorry. Thinking through a hypothesis. I'm fairly certain I know the answer, but...I'm having trouble testing it."

She tidies away the first aid supplies, taking them back to their place. Jayce cradles his hand, still stinging, against his chest. When she returns to the kitchen table, she's carrying a small plate with half a dozen golden-brown muffins. Their tops are dotted with gleaming jewels of candied peel, and large crystals of sugar, and curls of pale yellow zest.

"Maybe you're not asking the right question, then," she suggests. "Or maybe your heads addled from too many oranges, and not enough of anything else. Are you actually managing to eat a balanced diet? Or did I condemn my son to a lifetime of nutritional deficiency?"

Jayce has to laugh, as he takes a muffin at her urging. "Well, at least you know I won't die of scurvy," he jokes back as he tears off a bite. Her comment sends him back, to long hours bent over schoolwork; the frustration of trying to sort through scientific procedure, of having to rein in his instinct and enthusiasm for something testable and repeatable, experimental design.

The muffin is sweet and warm, a little bitter from the copious amount of zest inside. He groans his appreciation, and she answers it with a beatific smile. "These are so damn good, Ma," he tells her. She swats his arm for swearing. "Can I take one with me? For Viktor?"

She looks at him, and he swallows as the weight of her regard falls on him. There's something significant in her even gaze, as it flicks down to the muffins, then back up at him. He knows, before she tells him--

Viktor made them.

***

Jayce does take a muffin for the road--for himself, seeing as Viktor likely has as many as he would want after having baked the batch. He tucks it into a corner of the box of oranges as he walks, his mind racing. It's not--it doesn't need to mean anything. Anyone can slice an orange in half with a knife, cut through the barrier to get at the flesh inside, juice it and squeeze it into a batter. It's just--the peel. Diced, and finely, but not enough to hide the pieces with a rough and ragged edge, distinct from the knife work on the other four sides. The way some of the little chunks, enrobed in sugary syrup, still have tiny shreds of pith clinging to them, encased like a bug in amber. That's not--if you cut an orange apart to get at the pieces you needed, or if you bought those pieces already prepared, those things wouldn't be--

And of course, it's not like Viktor is incompetent. One doesn't need a pristinely peeled orange for use in baking, it's not like it matters, he could massacre a pile of oranges and still get what he needs for the recipe, but--

If I kissed him, would Viktor taste of oranges?

"Maybe you're not asking the right question."

Do I...want to kiss Viktor?

***

Jayce feels himself moving slowly, when he pushes open the door to the lab. There is a reluctance to it; not fear, but hesitance. For a man normally so bold with discovery, it doesn't quite feel like him, but for all their talk of changing the world--this hypothesis feels like it could shake every foundation of everything Jayce has known, up to this point, more than any he has had before.

He sets down the box of oranges; there are none left to replace on top, and he's fairly certain there were some still in the box last night, which means the fruit in the muffins came from their supply. Viktor took them home; he didn't buy the ingredients pre-prepared. He takes out the muffin, and sets it, carefully, at Viktor's work station; in the space where he normally deposits his coffee mug. It's maybe a bit overdramatic; the morning sun slants in through the window and falls directly on it, setting the candied peel to glistening.

He takes a few moments to bustle about the lab, pouring clearning vinegar onto a rag and wiping down the stainless steel surfaces until they are gleaming, until the only thing he can smell is oranges. His pulse is pounding in his ears.

"Maybe you're not asking the right question."

Does Viktor...want to kiss me?

An hour passes; two. Jayce can't sit still; he grabs Viktor's notebook, and flips through the pages, reviewing the work from the last week, jotting down some observations in the margins and copying some thoughts down into his own collection of notes. He grabs a second book, comparing work from two months ago to the work they are refining now; finds an inconsistency, corrects it, copies it into both books so that they are each correct. He balances them in one hand and copies a few figures onto the chalkboard, the chalk screeching against the slate, his lines shaky.

Finally, he hears the door open ehind him, the tapping of Viktor's cane as it hits the ground with every step. He hears the unusual pause as Viktor comes intot he room, enough to see the muffin sitting in its beam of light--or where it used to be; the sun has moved, and the shaft from the window is creeping now along the very edge of the workbench and up the wall, putting the pastry back into shadow. Still, he knows he sees it. He thinks he can hear Viktor's brain calculating from here. The other man says nothing. The tapping of the cane resumes, and when he hears the creak of the stool settling under Viktor's weight, he turns on his heel, plastering a nonchalant, sunny smile onto his face.

"Good morning," he offers, and aims for casual as he closes Viktor's notebook, tossing it gently towards the the end of the workbench so that Viktor can re-shelve it in the stack of books and notes and loose papers accoring to whatever strange filing system he's adopted. "Everything okay? You were a little late getting in."

"I am fine, Jayce," Viktor says. He doesn't sound quite fine; his voice sounds a little strained. Kind of like his own. Viktor clears his throat. "Just had a rough start to the morning. Pain acting up; I opted to move a bit more slowly, and allowed myself some time to soak in epsom salts before I made my way here."

Jayce makes a sympathetic noise, settling into his own chair, tossing his own notebook down onto the work surface. "I'm sorry to hear that," he says, and he means it. "You've been having a good couple of weeks; sorry that the pain's back."

"Eh. It is what it is. I will deal with it as I always do," is Viktor's reply.

"Is there anything I can do?"

The question is met with silence. Jayce tries to keep his hands busy, as though the question isn't loaded with weight and meaning, as though he hasn't placed an accusatory muffin right in pride of place on Viktor's work station, like he doesn't have a hypothesis buzzing in his head based on nothing more than instinct and disconnected observations. But his eyes flit to the side, trying to catch a glimpse of Viktor--his posture, his body language, his expression. HIs partner is extremely still, for a moment, then a moment omre.

Then he moves. Jayce watches as he reaches out, past the muffin, and snags an orange from the box. "I'm a little hungry," Viktor murmurs quietly. Jayce turns a bit more, swiveling in his seat to face him more directly. Viktor isn't looking at him; his eyes are watching the orange as he rolls it back and forth on the countertop, smooth, measured motions, flicking from it to the muffin and back again. The motion stops, the orange pinned between his fingertips--deft, nimble, strong--and the desktop. There's an orange tinge under his fingernails.

Then, decisively, Viktor flicks his fingers, sending the orange rolling to nudge up against Jayce's elbow. Viktor's eyes lift to his face, and there's a sweet, tentative half-smile there. Jayce isn't sure he's ever seen an expression like it, not on Viktor, at least. He can see the small gap in his teeth, the crooked line of his lower jaw. He's close; closer than Jayce realized. When he speaks, Jayce swears he smells oranges.

"Would you mind peeling an orange for me?"

***

"Kate," she says, "I don't know how you do it!"

When Emily peels an orange, she tears holes in it.

Juice squirts in all directions.

- Oranges, Jean Little

Emily is my best friend.

I hope she never learns how to peel oranges.

ETA: There is an edited, polished, better version of this fic at that AO3 link now--this one is much rougher!

Peeling oranges 🍊🧡

[adamtheamazing5]

Post mortem for Industrial Run

https://adamtheamazing.itch.io/industrial-run Type: Product Genre: Side scroller/platformer Engine:  Unity. Released: 11/6/2025. Last updated: 13/6/2025. Learned from: Originally from Diploma of Digital and Interactive Games (2018), but recently decided to expand it.

Before moving further towards my game dev journey, I wanted to exercise my game and level design skills. I decided to dig out one of my old assessments from my hard drive and expand on it instead of starting a new project from scratch. I also wanted to make a project that can demonstrate the 3D assets I created and my creativity in action.

Originally it was going to be a quick exercise, but due to some issues, it end up taking almost a year to expand it. I had to make sure the game was polished and running as smooth as possible.

This time: I didn’t code as much, and a few of my 3D assets are in the game such as the Glue Cannon, Lightsaw, Security Bot, Security door, and Giant pistons.

Originally the project had 1 level and few sounds. Now the new project has many sounds,9 levels, main menu, and a finish scene.

WHAT WENT WELL?:

Despite some of the 3D models have a higher poly count than others like the Pistons, I was able to make the levels short and run above 60 fps as possibly.

I managed to make and edit particles respectfully like smoke, fire, Glue Cannon particles and sparks really well due to what I learned about making particles last year. Doesn’t include electricity sparks for Tesla coils since I followed a tutorial to help me make it years ago.

For the first time I added a level select menu and a button that takes Players to my home game site.

Despite doing minor code changes, I managed to work around the code that my past programming teacher did. For e.g., I tweaked the checkpoint system to make a sound once when the Player collides with it instead of it sounding multiple times. I changed code for the big button by the Security Door to only press down and activate when a crate has collided with it instead of the Player.

I worked around making sounds activate within the animation instead of code. Good e.g. is the Security doors, once the door activates the animation, it enables a Game object to play a machine moving sound. Once it reach’s the end, It disables the game object and enables a new Game object to play a machine stop moving sound.

I created a endless loop of the player’s character running animation on the platforms on the main menu with the help of a project I made few years ago called Roller ball.

I edited some sounds with Audacity to fit with the game as possible.

WHAT I LEARNT:

•    Not much new things I learnt this time, but one thing is I have to think twice before working on a new project. I need to think about... - What good would it do for me? - What new things I will learn? - Is it worth taking months or years on the project.

WHAT WENT WRONG AND WHAT COULD I HAVE DONE BETTER?:

I didn’t realise at the last second that the Pistons had big poly count, I had to tone down the amount of Pistons in the levels so it doesn’t affect the frame rate. I could have reduced the Polycount of the pistons, but it was already animated and I didn’t want to risk  anything happening to the Pistons like it not animating or something like that.

I did a lot of breaking the prefabs that were attached to what I made were level prefabs containing all the 3D assets each level, next time I will not make level prefabs and just make a group contacting each type of prefab like I have done before. Once the prefab is broken, I had to manually update the prefab nearly each level rather than clicking “apply” each prefab .

The Player jumping on Pistons is a little sluggish, I could tweak the jumping code to be more responsive, except its not my code, so I don’t want to be breaking any major code. I may need to make a mechanic in future that the Player can still jump and move well on moving platforms.  

I tried to do Occlusion Culling, but it only seem to do minor improvements with the fps, Maybe I didn’t do it correctly or the assets already in the game are not designed to be LOD and blend with Occlusion Culling. I will need to understand it more in order to make noticeable fps improvements.

Making the short trailer for the game for the first time was a last min result, I need to plan and prepare more of what the trailer may showcase, sounds, music, possible cutscenes and what sells it compared to its similar recent competitors.

In the trailer, I don’t think I recorded the right wxh resolution of the video which made the it look outdated, I will need to adjust the record settings to fit on modern wxh resolutions that will fill the entire screen.

I accidently recorded the Mouse in the trailer, I should have the game turn the cursor off or move the cursor off screen and not touch it until recording is done.

Some sounds that that should be heard first (e.g. touch Finish flag), should have a bigger priority to be heard than other sounds, I will need to make sure sound priorities are set properly in the future.

I noticed they were missing faces on the Piston, at the time I thought players wont see that error, but I was wrong. I am going to let it go this time.

I think I should have spent more time getting players parameters and Pistons polished, it has few minor issues that cause the movement including jumping to be sluggish. I spent most of the time making levels rather than Player movement testing. I should REALLY spend more time with the core mechanics like Player movement as possible.

OVERALL:

• Despite this taking longer than expected, I learnt what I can do better next time, things I should consider improving, and what not to do.

It was a fair good exercise, but I do not want to dawdle any further, since I’m still working towards a commercial product rather than a free product.

This project is a definite reminder for me to prioritize Core mechanics rather than level mechanics since I have been building test projects for a long time.