#found in: the wires archives

[withinthecode]

TRANSMISSION FROM UNKNOWN SOURCE

Saama 10th, 42 AAI. Origin of transmission: UNKNOWN, assumed around the Krast river basin. Target of transmission: Suren, Kyarr

Transmission was blocked and buried, unknown reason as to why.

(?) Can anyone hear me? Hello? It’s been two years. We are still alive. Hello?

Please. Leo is 4 now. He keeps asking when we can go home. I don’t know if home exists. I’ve been telling him we are on our way to the Suren compound but it’s not safe to get there.

(Static)

(Static)

(Static)

Hello? Asa? Sahra? Ami’va? Did you guys forget about me?

I’m still alive. Please. Someone please tell me you’re getting this. I miss you all.

(Static)

I turned 15 two days ago. We were able to go into town and get a slice of cake, there was a festival happening that week. I just really want to be home. But home doesn’t exist.

The Cyev houses were scrapped, right? Because we are all supposed to be gone? I’m hoping that the Suren compound is still there. I hope everyone is safe.

(Static)

(Static)

I’m starting to lose hope, to be honest. It’s been 2 years, and none of my transmissions have gotten through. Or, if they have there hasn’t been any response. I guess this is me saying that I’m going to stop sending them.

I’m going to keep running. I don’t care if I survive this, I don’t think I will, but to Urral’ba above and Akiil below I will keep Leo safe.

I guess I’ll see everyone in Uvara. Some of you have to be dead, maybe all my siblings are dead now. If you aren’t all dead, why haven’t you come for us?

This is my last transmission. Goodbye. You never heard them anyways.

(Static)

(Static)

(Static)

(Static)

I love you.

SIGNAL LOST

SIGNAL LOST

SIGNAL LOST

[kirbyddd]

what happened to the Dive In Tokyo archive i didnt download it yet.....

[mostlysignssomeportents]

Utah’s getting some of America’s best broadband

TOMORROW (May 17), I'm at the INTERNET ARCHIVE in SAN FRANCISCO to keynote the 10th anniversary of the AUTHORS ALLIANCE.

Residents of 21 cities in Utah have access to some of the fastest, most competitively priced broadband in the country, at speeds up to 10gb/s and prices as low as $75/month. It's uncapped, and the connections are symmetrical: perfect for uploading and downloading. And it's all thanks to the government.

This broadband service is, of course, delivered via fiber optic cable. Of course it is. Fiber is vastly superior to all other forms of broadband delivery, including satellites, but also cable and DSL. Fiber caps out at 100tb/s, while cable caps out at 50gb/s – that is, fiber is 1,000 times faster:

https://www.eff.org/deeplinks/2019/10/why-fiber-vastly-superior-cable-and-5g

Despite the obvious superiority of fiber, America has been very slow to adopt it. Our monopolistic carriers act as though pulling fiber to our homes is an impossible challenge. All those wires that currently go to your house, from power-lines to copper phone-lines, are relics of a mysterious, fallen civilization and its long-lost arts. Apparently we could no more get a new wire to your house than we could build the pyramids using only hand-tools.

In a sense, the people who say we can't pull wires anymore are right: these are relics of a lost civilization. Specifically, electrification and later, universal telephone service was accomplished through massive federal grants under the New Deal – grants that were typically made to either local governments or non-profit co-operatives who got everyone in town connected to these essential modern utilities.

Today – thanks to decades of neoliberalism and its dogmatic insistence that governments can't do anything and shouldn't try, lest they break the fragile equilibrium of the market – we have lost much of the public capacity that our grandparents took for granted. But in the isolated pockets where this capacity lives on, amazing things happen.

Since 2015, residents of Jackson County, KY – one of the poorest counties in America – have enjoyed some of the country's fastest, cheapest, most reliable broadband. The desperately poor Appalachian county is home to a rural telephone co-op, which grew out of its rural electrification co-op, and it used a combination of federal grants and local capacity to bring fiber to every home in the county, traversing dangerous mountain passes with a mule named "Ole Bub" to reach the most remote homes. The result was an immediately economic uplift for the community, and in the longer term, the county had reliable and effective broadband during the covid lockdowns:

https://www.newyorker.com/tech/annals-of-technology/the-one-traffic-light-town-with-some-of-the-fastest-internet-in-the-us

Contrast this with places where the private sector has the only say over who gets broadband, at what speed, and at what price. America is full of broadband deserts – deserts that strand our poorest people. Even in the hearts of our largest densest cities, whole neighborhoods can't get any broadband. You won't be surprised to learn that these are the neighborhoods that were historically redlined, and that the people who live in them are Black and brown, and also live with some of the highest levels of pollution and its attendant sicknesses:

https://pluralistic.net/2021/06/10/flicc/#digital-divide

These places are not set up for success under the best of circumstances, and during the lockdowns, they suffered terribly. You think your kid found it hard to go to Zoom school? Imagine what life was like for kids who attended remote learning while sitting on the baking tarmac in a Taco Bell parking lot, using its free wifi:

https://www.wsws.org/en/articles/2020/09/02/elem-s02.html

ISPs loathe competition. They divide up the country into exclusive territories like the Pope dividing up the "new world" and do not trouble one another by trying to sell to customers outside of "their" turf. When Frontier – one of the worst of America's terrible ISPs – went bankrupt, we got to see their books, and we learned two important facts:

The company booked one million customers who had no alternative as an asset, because they would pay more for slower broadband, and Frontier could save a fortune by skipping maintenance, and charging these customers for broadband even through multi-day outages; and

Frontier knew that it could make a billion dollars in profit over a decade by investing in fiber build-out, but it chose not to, because stock analysts will downrank any carrier that made capital investments that took more than five years to mature. Because Frontier's execs were paid primarily in stock, they chose to strand their customers with aging copper connections and to leave a billion dollars sitting on the table, so that their personal net worth didn't suffer a temporary downturn:

https://www.eff.org/deeplinks/2020/04/frontiers-bankruptcy-reveals-cynical-choice-deny-profitable-fiber-millions

ISPs maintain the weirdest position: that a) only the private sector can deliver broadband effectively, but b) to do so, they'll need massive, unsupervised, no-strings-attached government handouts. For years, America went along with this improbable scheme, which is why Trump's FCC chairman Ajit Pai gave the carriers $45 billion in public funds to string slow, 19th-century-style copper lines across rural America:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/02/27/all-broadband-politics-are-local/

Now, this is obviously untrue, and people keep figuring out that publicly provisioned broadband is the only way for America to get the same standard of broadband connectivity that our cousins in other high-income nations enjoy. In order to thwart the public's will, the cable and telco lobbyists joined ALEC, the far-right, corporatist lobbying shop, and drafted "model legislation" banning cities and counties from providing broadband, even in places the carriers chose not to serve:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/03/19/culture-war-bullshit-stole-your-broadband/

Red states across America adopted these rules, and legislators sold this to their base by saying that this was just "keeping the government out of their internet" (even as every carrier relied on an exclusive, government-granted territorial charter, often with massive government subsidies).

ALEC didn't target red states exclusively because they had pliable, bribable conservative lawmakers. Red states trend rural, and rural places are the most likely sites for public fiber. Partly, that's because low-density areas are harder to make a business case for, but also because these are also the places that got electricity and telephone through New Deal co-ops, which are often still in place.

Just about the only places in America where people like their internet service are the 450+ small towns where the local government provides fiber. These places vote solidly Republican, and it was their beloved conservative lawmakers whom ALEC targeted to enact laws banning their equally beloved fiber – keep voting for Christmas, turkeys, and see where it gets you:

https://communitynets.org/content/community-network-map

But spare a little sympathy for the conservative movement here. The fact that reality has a pronounced leftist bias must be really frustrating for the ideological project of insisting that anything the market can't provide is literally impossible.

Which brings me back to Utah, a red state with a Republican governor and legislature, and a national leader in passing unconstitutional, unhinged, unworkable legislation as part of an elaborate culture war kabuki:

https://www.npr.org/2023/03/24/1165975112/utah-passes-an-age-verification-law-for-anyone-using-social-media

For more than two decades, a coalition of 21 cities in Utah have been building out municipal fiber. The consortium calls itself UTOPIA: "Utah Telecommunication Open Infrastructure Agency":

https://www.utopiafiber.com/faqs/

UTOPIA pursues a hybrid model: they run "open access" fiber and then let anyone offer service over it. This can deliver the best of both worlds: publicly provisioned, blazing-fast fiber to your home, but with service provided by your choice of competing carriers. That means that if Moms for Liberty captures you local government, you're not captive to their ideas about what sites your ISP should block.

As Karl Bode writes for Techdirt, Utahns in UTOPIA regions have their choice of 18 carriers, and competition has driven down prices and increased speeds. Want uncapped 1gb fiber? That's $75/month. Want 10gb fiber? That's $150:

https://www.techdirt.com/2024/05/15/utah-locals-are-getting-cheap-10-gbps-fiber-thanks-to-local-governments/

UTOPIA's path to glory wasn't an easy one. The dismal telco monopolists Qwest and Lumen sued to put them out of business, delaying the rollout by years:

https://www.deseret.com/2005/7/22/19903471/utopia-responds-to-qwest-lawsuit/

UTOPIA has been profitable and self-sustaining for over 15 years and shows no sign of slowing. But 17 states still ban any attempt at this.

Keeping up such an obviously bad policy requires a steady stream of distractions and lies. The "government broadband doesn't work" lie has worn thin, so we've gotten a string of new lies about wireless service, insisting that fiber is obviated by point-to-point microwave relays, or 5g, or satellite service.

There's plenty of places where these services make sense. You're not going to be able to use fiber in a moving car, so yeah, you're going to want 5g (and those 5g towers are going to need to be connected to each other with fiber). Microwave relay service can fill the gap until fiber can be brought in, and it's great for temporary sites (especially in places where it doesn't rain, because rain, clouds, leaves and other obstructions are deadly for microwave relays). Satellite can make sense for an RV or a boat or remote scientific station.

But wireless services are orders of magnitude slower than fiber. With satellite service, you share your bandwidth with an entire region or even a state. If there's only a couple of users in your satellite's footprint, you might get great service, but when your carrier adds a thousand more customers, your connection is sliced into a thousand pieces.

That's also true for everyone sharing your fiber trunk, but the difference is that your fiber trunk supports speeds that are tens of thousands of times faster than the maximum speeds we can put through freespace electromagnetic spectrum. If we need more fiber capacity, we can just fish a new strand of fiber through the conduit. And while you can increase the capacity of wireless by increasing your power and bandwidth, at a certain point you start pump so much EM into the air that birds start falling out of the sky.

Every wireless device in a region shares the same electromagnetic spectrum, and we are only issued one such spectrum per universe. Each strand of fiber, by contrast, has its own little pocket universe, containing a subset of that spectrum.

Despite all its disadvantages, satellite broadband has one distinct advantage, at least from an investor's perspective: it can be monopolized. Just as we only have one electromagnetic spectrum, we also only have one sky, and the satellite density needed to sustain a colorably fast broadband speed pushes the limit of that shared sky:

https://spacenews.com/starlink-vs-the-astronomers/

Private investors love monopoly telecoms providers, because, like pre-bankruptcy Frontier, they are too big to care. Back in 2021, Altice – the fourth-largest cable operator in America – announced that it was slashing its broadband speeds, to be "in line with other ISPs":

https://pluralistic.net/2021/06/27/immortan-altice/#broadband-is-a-human-right

In other words: "We've figured out that our competitors are so much worse than we are that we are deliberately degrading our service because we know you will still pay us the same for less."

This is why corporate shills and pro-monopolists prefer satellite to municipal fiber. Sure, it's orders of magnitude slower than fiber. Sure, it costs subscribers far more. Sure, it's less reliable. But boy oh boy is it profitable.

The thing is, reality has a pronounced leftist bias. No amount of market magic will conjure up new electromagnetic spectra that will allow satellite to attain parity with fiber. Physics hates Starlink.

Yeah, I'm talking about Starlink. Of course I am. Elon Musk basically claims that his business genius can triumph over physics itself.

That's not the only vast, impersonal, implacable force that Musk claims he can best with his incredible reality-distortion field. Musk also claims that he can somehow add so many cars to the road that he will end traffic – in other words, he will best geometry too:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/10/09/herbies-revenge/#100-billion-here-100-billion-there-pretty-soon-youre-talking-real-money

Geometry hates Tesla, and physics hates Starlink. Reality has a leftist bias. The future is fiber, and public transit. These are both vastly preferable, more efficient, safer, more reliable and more plausible than satellite and private vehicles. Their only disadvantage is that they fail to give an easily gulled, thin-skinned compulsive liar more power over billions of people. That's a disadvantage I can live with.

If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/05/16/symmetrical-10gb-for-119/#utopia

Image: 4028mdk09 (modified) https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Rote_LED_Fiberglasleuchte.JPG

CC BY-SA 3.0 https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/3.0/deed.en

[cobaltperun]

Woe out the Storm (9) - Hard Comes the Rain

Wednesday Addams x female Reader

Summary: It took some time, but eventually you came to realize only Wednesday Addams could look at the raging storm of chaos and destruction and make a home out of it. Only she could listen to the cacophony of the roaring thunder and hear a melody.

Story warnings: Wednesday Addams, violence, slow burn

Story Masterlist / First part / Previous part / Next part

Word count: 2.5k

-You pray for the storm of your life, it's over and nothing survived-

This school year was officially turning into the biggest mess you had ever experienced. Oversized Gollum-looking monster that killed a bunch of people, finding out from Wednesday that Weems was a shapeshifter who had no issues with covering up Rowan’s murder, and now this ominous message burnt onto school grounds.

Fire will rain.

There had to be more to it than that.

Let it never be said Wednesday was the only one who could sneak in and out of some secure place. And your methods were more suited for what you were aiming to do.

You were sitting in a tree, close to one of the open windows of the mayor’s office. There was probably someone there, so you’d need to do this quickly. Just go in and out, and if you can’t get what you need in fifteen to twenty minutes, try again tomorrow. You stabbed a knife into the branch, one of the knives you didn’t mind losing and jumped down, using a small burst of lightning to slow down your fall. When you landed you sent some electricity through the ground, searching for electrical wires, you wouldn’t damage them, you’d just use them to cut the power at the very source.

A drop of sweat slid down your face. It was difficult to locate the wires, to recognize what was your electricity and what wasn’t. And you needed to stay in control and not fry the wires. You took several deep breaths, focusing as hard as you could and finally, after what felt like eternity, you found it, the steady current going toward the building. That was the hardest part.

With a bit of a smirk, you sent your own electricity toward the power source and disrupted it, cutting off the power in the entire building, you would have cut the power off for entire block to make it less suspicious, but you didn’t have that kind of control.

Well, more optimal solutions aside, you accomplished what you were after. You zapped to the knife in the tree and tossed another one through the open window, zapping inside. For once you allowed the beast within you to somewhat come out as your eyes turned red and your vision cleared, the darkness around you was no longer an issue. Perks of your primary beast being what it was.

You broke into the archive, making sure to make as little sound as possible as you did that, and powered the computer on with your electricity. Your eyes narrowed as you forcefully bypassed the security. This was why you were so focused on learning all about technology you could, with your powers and knowledge you were a human hacker, capable of breaking into any device you were familiar with, regardless of passcodes or any other protections. With full access to the PC you began searching through the files, starting with Crackstone. There wasn’t anything there, at least not anything you didn’t already know. So, you went with another tactic.

Garrett Gates, dead family, the mansion that was long abandoned but recently bought by some woman. None of this was helping you, at all. You should have brought Wednesday with you somehow, maybe she could have seen something in this mess of information.

“Come on, it’s an old family, surely someone wrote some kind of book about it?” you muttered, already anxiously searching for Garrett’s grandparents or someone even further back. Nothing, it was as if one of Jericho’s oldest families just vanished from records older than a century ago and you weren’t sure if it was them specifically or if it was just in general. No books, no records, the only new information was the existence of their mansion, which you could have figured out without extra effort.

As the last ditch effort you wrote ‘Fire will rain’ and all of a sudden something strange began happening, it was as if something was disrupting you, as if there was a security in place that was specifically meant to stop a raiju or someone else capable of using lightning from getting into the system.

“Shit!” you cursed, turning the computer off and running outside, no longer caring if someone working here would catch you. You didn’t know exactly what was wrong, but just for a moment you felt as if you could sense the danger, as if you were on a timer and needed to get away as soon as possible, otherwise you’d be in way over your head. You reached the window you came in through and were about to zap to the knife in the tree when you froze and ducked. Someone was in the tree, right where your knife was.

That figure, it didn’t feel human, it didn’t feel like you were looking at some outcast, just one glimpse was enough to freeze you on the spot. It didn’t matter that staying near the window made you vulnerable, that it was the obvious entry point for you, none of that mattered. You just couldn’t move.

Your heart hammered in your chest, there was nothing you could do, to escape or protect yourself. Somehow, despite only catching the glimpse of that figure you knew not even shifting into your beast form would help. You were at the mercy of whatever was in the tree, you couldn’t even pull out your phone to apologize to your parents for being reckless, you could just sit there and wait.

And then the tension vanished, but so did your knife. And the power was back on. You dared to look outside and the moment you did that you were met with completely blue eyes staring down at you, no pupils, nothing, not even the sclera was white, everything was pale blue. Before you could even begin to understand what was going on; before you could even take in any other features of the one in front of you, you were struck by pain and slammed into a wall. There wasn’t even a sound, there was nothing, just pain, excruciating pain you couldn’t endure.

~X~

Wednesday was always a light sleeper, though she learnt how to ignore certain sounds in the middle of the night. A loud thud against the wall and a body dropping to the floor was one of those sounds. Thing frantically tapping her arm wasn’t something she could ignore though. Especially when he insisted on repeating your name in Morse code.

“What?” she didn’t appreciate being woken up, and it didn’t sound like you were losing control over yourself. But Thing was persistent, so she opened her eyes and sat up. Due to Enid’s excessively colorful side of the window Wednesday couldn’t see it quite clearly, but she could swear she saw a body lying there. Thing jumped from her bed and ran outside, turning around just once to make sure Wednesday was following him.

Surely it wasn’t you, right?

But it was you.

You were right there, unconscious and lying on the cold stone of the balcony. “Y/N,” she touched your neck to make sure you were alive, only to be struck by a vision. It was just flashes this time, chilling completely blue eyes, a shadowy figure in the tree, being thrown against the wall, and then nothing. Wednesday almost gasped, both due to the vision and the realization that you were alive.

What were you doing? How did you get into this situation? Wednesday didn’t know, all she knew was that she needed you to wake up, because carrying you and risking another vision wasn’t something she wanted to deal with. So, she shook you slightly, ignoring how the grunt of pain you let out didn’t sound as good as she hoped it would. Not when she wasn’t the one that caused it. No one else should have that right and whoever did this, sooner or later she’d get her revenge.

“Y/N,” she spoke again as you blinked a few times. You looked disoriented, in pain, and barely aware of where you were, and then your eyes widened and you frantically looked around, jumping to your feet, and pulling Wednesday behind you before she could even realize what was happening.

“What? Where is that?!” you were looking for whatever or whoever attacked you, and there was no doubt in Wednesday’s mind that you were instinctively making sure you were between her and whatever danger you were worried about.

“Calm down, we’re alone,” she assured you, but you didn’t listen, still stuck between flight and fight response. “Y/N,” she tried with your name and that reached you as you let out a shuddering breath and calmed down enough to turn around and look at Wednesday. “Can you walk alone?” she asked and though wide-eyed you nodded slowly.

You didn’t move and Wednesday realized you were waiting for her to get inside first. With a heavy sigh she did exactly that. A thought came to her mind, entirely related to the information her mother revealed to her. About that generational bond between her family and raiju.

As far as Wednesday was concerned this, from your interaction with Wednesday to this apparent protectiveness, simply wasn’t your choice. You couldn’t help it if her being an Addams made you drawn to her. That would certainly explain your behavior toward her, your acceptance of who she was. She was different, she was stronger than some curse that brought the two of you together, she knew about it, she wasn’t influenced by it. Every experience she had with you was of her own free will, and so was this. If a raiju was meant to die for an Addams, it certainly wouldn’t be you dying for her.

No matter the consequences of that choice.

And that decision was even more definitive now that you came back from wherever you were like this. Clearly in pain, though without visible injuries, and attacked for something she was almost certain had something to do with her and/or her investigation.

Even she could see how distraught you were, but there was nothing she could do other than lead you to your part of the room, only guide you to your bed until you went through the motions and got on the bed. You were anxious, still focused on perceived danger and frantic and Wednesday had to do something about it. As you were, you wouldn’t go to sleep, and she had no patience or will to deal with that right now. So, she did the next best thing and struck a pressure point on your neck before you could react.

As Wednesday watched your unconscious form she found herself biting her lower lip, angry and frustrated at what just transpired.

~X~

You were alive.

Somehow.

When you woke up the next morning the first sight you saw was Wednesday sitting at the bottom of your bed, reading a book with Thing dutifully staying next to her.

“How bad was it? Since you are sitting here?” you couldn’t help but ask, revealing to her and Thing that you just woke up. Wednesday didn’t move, she didn’t even look at you and that made you even more worried. “Wednesday?” you remembered how disoriented and afraid you were, how you followed her, frightened that whatever attacked you would come back and that she’d get hurt too if that happened. Was that really enough for this kind of reaction from her?

Thing jumped to your side and asked you how you were feeling.

You smiled a bit, bringing your fist up to fist bump him. “I’ll be fine, Thing,” and you would be, the pain from last night was mostly gone. Being a raiju meant you had a higher than average tolerance to pain and that you healed faster than normies and most outcasts as well.

Wednesday just stood up and went to her bed, not even looking at you in the process. You sighed softly and glanced at Thing. You thought he’d just shrug, keeping Wednesday’s secrets under lock and key, but he didn’t. He openly told you she was worried and that she spent the night watching over you, that the lack of pain had a lot to do with the medicine she injected you with and you just leaned your head back into the pillow and nodded.

You made Wednesday worried and had nothing to show for it. All you accomplished was getting caught and hurt.

~X~

Two days later Enid approached you while Wednesday was tending to Eugene’s bees and the two of you were alone in your room with an idea you would have loved, if there wasn’t one tiny detail that made you refuse.

“Come on, it’s Wednesday’s birthday and there’s no better place for her!” Enid tried to persuade you.

“I agree, that’s the perfect place for Wednesday’s surprise birthday party, but, there’s a lake I need to get across and I’m not doing that,” you were absolutely never going to give in and approach that lake. Or any other bigger body of water. Not even for Wednesday.

“Y/N, come on! If you aren’t there there’s fifty percent higher chance she won’t even tolerate it!” Enid kept trying, as stubborn as she always was.

You sighed. “No, not even for Wednesday,” besides, you had a feeling Wednesday would hate the surprise either way. She barely spoke to Xavier, and you were fairly sure she never spoke with Yoko, or Ajax and whoever else Enid was going to convince to join. Frankly, you and Enid were the only ones whose presence at Wednesday’s surprise birthday party was understandable. “Besides, she is going to hate it either way,” you pointed out.

“Well, maybe she will, but I will show her that she is appreciated and accepted!” and you thought Enid’s reasons and way of thinking were perfectly reasonable and something most people would appreciate, but that was the thing about Wednesday, she didn’t need to feel like she was appreciated or accepted, she was the one in complete control.

Besides, you were still shaken by what happened at the mayor’s office building. At the end of the day you owed Wednesday for taking care of you. And you weren’t about to repay her with a surprise party, even if it was for her birthday. You’d wish her a happy birthday the morning of her birthday and you’d hand her the gift you’ve more or less had ready ever since you took Wednesday’s knife.

Frankly, you were just glad that knife remained in your possession, unlike the knife you left in that damn tree.

“I really can’t convince you?” Enid tried, hopefully, for the last time.

“You really can’t. I’m not getting close to that much water, no matter what,” you stood your ground. It wouldn’t matter what the reason was, you just, plain and simple, wouldn’t risk falling into water, no matter how safe the transportation was.

Not even for Wednesday.

A/N: Well, there’s chapter 9, a bit short, but I feel like I accomplished what I was after. Honestly, I’m gambling on that line from Laurel, that it’s a part of the bigger game or whatever she said, paying off and blindly adding to that part of the plot. Will it work out? Well, I hope it will. Worst case scenario I can use ‘wrong people’ line from Bianca’s mom as an explanation. Oh, well, we’ll see when season 2 comes out.

[dinodorks]

[ Visitors pass by some of the iconic sculptures of prehistoric life within Crystal Palace Park. Photo by Richard Baker. ]

"When the Crystal Palace and Park opened in south London in 1854, it was an instant sensation. Visitors came from far and wide to see the giant glass structure that had been rebuilt there, bigger and better, after the Great Exhibition of 1851 in Hyde Park. Wide-eyed spectators wandered freely through Egyptian and Medieval Courts, delighted in high-wire circus acts, and were transported by a 4,000-piece orchestra. Tucked away in a corner of the vast gardens that fanned out from the palace, past sweeping terraces and more fountains than even at Versailles, was a smaller but no less ambitious attraction. Scattered across several islands in the middle of a lake stood three dozen life-size sculptures of prehistoric animals, including several dinosaurs up to 30 feet long—the world’s first attempt to model them at full scale. The Crystal Palace Dinosaurs were the work of Benjamin Waterhouse Hawkins, a natural history artist who, aided by some of the leading scientists of the day, had dreamt up a grand experiment in visual education, bringing to life the “dry bones or oddly shaped stones” found in the British Museum and introducing the masses to the burgeoning science of paleontology. By reconstructing Britain’s long-extinct animals, he hoped to “render the appearance and names of the ancient inhabitants of our globe as familiar as household words.” The palace burned down in the 1930s, but, almost 170 years after they were crafted, most of Hawkins’ original sculptures still stand sentry in the park. Today, they’re mostly famous for being wildly inaccurate. With few complete fossils to work off, Hawkins had to use his imagination and the advice of comparative anatomists to breathe life into his models, which, in addition to four true dinosaurs, also depict prehistoric mammals, reptiles and amphibians. As a result, the sculptures look suspiciously like many modern-day creatures. ��People kind of scoff and giggle, because they look so wrong today, but at the time they were really cutting-edge,” says Bob Nicholls, a paleoartist who, through careful study of archival images, recently reconstructed a lost sculpture that had disappeared from the park sometime in the 1960s. His tapir-like model of Palaeotherium magnum, an animal we now know looked a lot more like a horse, was unveiled in July and now stands among Hawkins’ own surviving creations."

Read more: "How a Victorian Dinosaur Park Became a Time Capsule of Early Paleontology" by Yannic Rack.

[phoenixcatch7]

More possessed doll au!

Each time a bat is ready to take on a new form, they must pay a visit to the tea party. Should they be accepted, through whatever strange reasons the dolls use, they will find another figure seated at the table, dressed in full tea party doll regalia. It is up to them to modify the doll within the limits imposed, and learn its form to achieve its full potential. The Robin doll, so far, is the only one to return to the table despite being moved to a display case, and truly makes the mysterious sidekick timeless.

Despite its obviously supernatural origins, the bats have found very, very little can effect the dolls outside of physical force. They do not use wires and electricity to move or think - they cannot be hacked. They are not, to their knowledge, superseding other minds - they cannot be exorcised. They use no magics to fight crime - they cannot be traced. They have no blood to be identified, no teeth pattern to compare, no fingerprints or retina to give them away. Gas cannot affect them, hypnosis requires a brain, pain cannot override them. For all intents and purposes, the dolls are perfect for fighting crime.

So where, Bruce thinks, lying awake in bed one night after patrol, do they come from? Alfred knows nothing, neither of them found anything in the archives or library. His father grew up on the estate - surely he'd explored the caves himself at some point? The doll had been right at the well entrance - had he simply never entered that way?

After the first time meeting their doll, they do not need to touch it to transfer their consciousness again. It's a breeze through an open window, ever so slight, in the back of their minds, and one simple twist can send them spiralling into their other body.

But when Robin became Nightwing, and the child sized body was retired, it was placed in a sturdy glass display case. Jason was already making noises about joining them on the streets, but a transition had never been attempted. They assumed a third doll would become the new Robin, and the first would simply become inert.

That was not the case.

When Jason - against Bruce's decision to wait a few more months - decided to make the walk to the doll house, and deeper still to the tea party cave, he found, waiting, an untouched child sized doll. The light from his torch cast across its Victorian style waistcoat, the plumped breeches and buckled leather booties, all in the bright and bold colours of his predecessor. It sat at the right hand of the empty throne, porcelain tea cup in hand, as though left by a rich little girl called away just a moment ago to supper.

The doll had been sorted in a locked case. Glass. In full view of the main area of the batcave. With cameras. It should not have been able to be taken away without several people noticing. He had taken a different route to try and sneak past Bruce, but...

It was not the first time a doll had moved. It would not be the last.

@puppetmaster13u

@dehydratedmockingbird

[cod-dump]

I feel like Ghost, Soap and Gaz are just slightly different flavors of neurodivergency. All of them have at least a touch of the 'tism and it's the most apparent with Ghost. Hell, that big boy can't even mask without a literal mask covering most of his face. Gaz on the other hand has much healthier coping mechanisms but struggled all his life with unmasking even alone. Johnny has ADHD to top it all off and he can't for life determine if he's overstimulated or understimulated.

No, Price isn't safe either. But after gathering together his gaggle of adopted kids, he has adjusted his already elaborate routine to get out of the dodge whenever there's a slight possibility for chaos to arise... or when the differences between the neurotypes break out WW3.

There has been times when the boys clashed in all the wrong ways. Price has been lucky enough to catch it early on and stop things from escalating. But, he doesn't always notice when things are about to go nuclear. He had a rough week. PTSD kicking his ass, three missions went horribly with injuries but thankfully no casualties. The stress from it all was keeping Price up at night.

He wasn't as vigilant as he should've been. He wasn't paying attention to the boys, either, and not quite noticing them riling each other up. Soap was being loud because things were too quiet, Gaz was trying to get him to shut up because it was too much for him, and Ghost was quiet. If Price was paying attention he would've noticed that Ghost was a ticking bomb and Soap and Gaz prodding him with their arguing.

Ghost was the one to come into Price's office, now it being obvious he was trying to escape Soap and Gaz and was hoping Price would get them to leave him alone. But Gaz was following him because he was quiet and he was hoping Ghost would get Soap to shut up (but Ghost was in one of his moments where he got quiet and just didn't talk). Soap followed Gaz because he wanted to spend time with him and was lonely.

If Price wasn't so tired, he would've noticed the boys clashing and would've been able to calm things down. But he wasn't paying attention and only noticed when things were already about to go to shit. At one moment it was all just background noise, then he looked up and realized that it was a lot worse than what he had thought.

Ghost turned and grabbed Gaz, who had his back to him, and shoved him into Soap. The two tumbled and Soap was wired by that point, grabbing Gaz and putting him in a headlock. Gaz just bit Soap instead of doing anything else which set Soap off more. Now they were fighting and Ghost had stormed out of the office.

The entirety of it all snapped Price out of his tired, stressed mindset and into a even more stressed, anxious mindset. He had to get in between Soap and Gaz and pull them apart. Gaz actually bit him a couple times but Price grabbed him by the back of his shirt and held him away while he grabbed Soap by the front of his shirt and held him away.

"Take a breath, sergeants."

He kept his voice firm and the two stilled, breathing heavy. Price didn't let them go until he thought they were calm enough. After a moment, Price released them but still stood between them.

"I want you two to sit in here while I go find Ghost. You better be here when I come back."

Price left them there, mind racing as he went to search for Ghost. It took him a moment to find him, sighing when he did. Ghost found a desk in a archive to hide under. Price let him know he was there but didn't touch him. Instead he sat near the desk and stayed quiet. Ghost was worked up because of Soap and Gaz bickering and he would need a moment to breathe.

Ghost silently let Price know when he was okay by reaching out and touching his hand. Price took the man's hand and gave it a light squeeze before standing. Ghost followed him back to the office where he had left Soap and Gaz. The two were back to back, muttering about something when Price had opened the door.

Price said nothing as he walked over to his desk and sat down. He motioned Ghost to sit on the couch while he dug into his desk drawer. Price handed the MP3 player to Gaz with some headphones, the man immediately putting the headphones in and started to play some music. Price looks to Soap, who had a split lip.

"Come over here and let me look at that," Price said while pointing at his own lip.

After he cleaned the cut, Soap pulled his chair over and sat beside Price, quietly talking about anything that came to mind as Ghost napped on the couch and Gaz listened to music.

[wolfspurr]

So, I might have lost my mind and decided that being in four teams for this year's @sterekreversechallenges Reverse Bang was a good idea. I wasn't planning on writing two fics, but I saw the art and immediately knew that me and @sugareey-makes-stuff had to work together and the rest, as they say, was history! We pushed it to the wire with the last chance deadline (sorry, and thank you mods!), but somehow (despite a lot of interference from life) managed to get this done, and I'm really proud of what we achieved. We definitely worked for it!

So, here's my final offering for the Sterek Reverse Bang 2023. I hope you all enjoy it <3.

Molten (27896 words) by sugareey, Wolfspurr Rating: Explicit Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski Additional Tags: Sterek Reverse Bang 2023, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Friends to Lovers, Getting Together, Fluff and Angst, Mutual Pining, Kidnapping, Magical Accidents, Accidental Bonding, Spark Stiles Stilinski, College Student Stiles Stilinski, Pack Beta Derek Hale, Idiots in Love, Some Humor, Stiles Stilinski is a Mess, Derek Hale Takes Care of Stiles Stilinski, Sharing a Bed, Meddling, Unresolved Sexual Tension, Sexual Frustration, Hand Jobs, Shower Sex, Anal Sex, Coming Untouched, Creampie, Awkward Conversations, Kissing, Feelings Realization, POV Stiles Stilinski, Digital Art, Illustrations

Summary: "Stiles, is that you?" He recognizes that voice. He doesn’t know why he’s hearing it here though, in whatever cold, dark cave he’s found himself in. The owner of that voice is supposed to be miles away, back home in Beacon Hills. Unless Stiles is the one that’s ended up further from home than he could possibly have predicted. "Derek?!"

Read it Here

[jayaury]

Autumn’s Harvest

Another short story from my Patreon archive. I hope you enjoy it!

---

Michael Colter walked by the pumpkin patch every year, and every year he wondered how Old Man Wittig managed to make those pumpkins grow so big.

There were those that said Wittig sold his soul to a spirit of the Wire Woods. And true, there was always some poor sod that seemed to vanish along that road as the years grew long. But Michael put little stock in such tales. There’d not been a witch in the region for eighty years, and the cursed lands had been pushed back far beyond the borders of their village. The wards on the distant posts that separated the fields from the forest glowed hot with power, strung along the distance like a ribbon of stars, and not a devil, sprite, or any other fey thing could cross that boundary.

But when he walked by the patch and saw those orange gourds growing ripe and heavy, and when the wind whistled through trees growing thin of leaves and a sky overcast with a steely grey, he recalled the rumors of the missing, and shivered in the cold.

He was on his way back to his family’s farm that late night, later than he should have been. He’d spent overlong in the town’s library and hadn’t realized the time until the librarian had told him they were closing. The air was growing dark, the moon yet to rise, and even as he walked the night closed in more and more. A time the old folks knew as the Whispering Hours. Back when the forest grew closer, it was said the spirits of the Wire Woods would tempt men and girls of marriageable age to cross beyond the borders of the wards, and find their destiny in the arms of giggly sprites and hungry alraunes.

Michael shrugged off such talk. Superstitions were not for him. He was a man of education. His family did well enough. His brother would inherit the farm. His sisters went off to marry some of the tradesmen in town, and he was to go to the Academy in Morrinton come spring’s breaking. He had the mind of a scholar and no small skill in magic, and life on the farm had given him the build of a workhorse, which stretched his coat comfortably over his chest. He was meant for greater things than to be a farmer. Greater things indeed.

Come to me.

Michael stopped dead and looked out over Wittig’s fields. He noted with some interest that the pumpkins hadn’t been coming in as well as other years. The rinds were still pale and nestled in their vines like eggs waiting for a broody hen. Michael rubbed his chin, wondering, then shrugged and started off again.

Here.

He turned to the patch again, his eyes roaming across the field. He hadn’t imagined that one. He was sure of it. A plaintive whisper hanging in the wind. A woman’s voice that tickled his ear and made pins and needles dance up and down his arms.

“Hello?” he called.

No answer came but the soft sigh of the wind and the rustle of leaves blown across the acres. But as he stood there, he saw something glowing through the gloom. A flicker of a lamp swaying out among the fields. Michael leaned over the fence, trying to see who carried it, but the green flame merely hung in the air, swaying softly.

A new sensation came over Michael as he watched that distant glow. He felt again that tingle in his arms. A strange sense of vertigo gripped him, making him lean against the fence. He shook his head, banishing the momentary befuddlement, and tried to spot who it was that carried the lamp, but the gloom had only grown deeper, and the lamp seemed to recede further.

Michael drummed his fingers on the fence, then climbed over and began to make his way across the patch.

He was careful not to tread on the vines or pumpkins. He knew the labours involved in growing such crop, and it would shame him greatly to damage anything of another man’s harvest. “Hello?” he called again. “Who’s there?”

The flame retreated as he approached. Or perhaps it was further away than he expected. In no time, he found himself moving beyond the pumpkin patches, and towards one of the small shelters of willows that grew in tangles on every farm. The glow of the lamp danced between the trunks, flickering as if through the bars of the cage. As he approached, he spied a trail that wound into the trees.

Come here.

He paused then, uncertain. Uneasiness rose in him. Something was wrong here. Though he was still some distance from the ward posts, something made him wary of what lay before him.

Help me.

The words held such a pleading tone that it made Michael nervous. There were many rumors about Wittig. A man secretive, churlish. Quick to anger and jealous of his lands. Could he have harmed a woman who’d been walking by? Dumped her body among the trees thinking she were dead? Or had she escaped here, and was waiting for a rescuer?

His stomach clenching, but his mind made up, Michael moved down the narrow path through the trees.

Now, at last, the light of the lantern grew closer. The glow grew brighter. Brighter. Its flames fluttered, and Michael swore he could make out a figure among its embers. A feminine form that swayed and danced and spun in dizzying patterns of ragged green. A heat that burned bright and hands that swung and beckoned and-

Michael’s foot hit something, sending him crashing to the ground. He hit it hard, bruising his palms and knees, his brain seeming to rattle in his skull. The shock cleared his head and he shook it, looking back to see what it was he’d tripped on.

His mouth dropped open as he saw the prone figure laying on the ground. Though wearing a heavy brown coat with a high collar, it was near three sizes too big for the body it garbed. Wrists thin as twigs and twisted fingers clawed for the heavens. A face as wizened and wrinkled as the bark of an oak tree stared up, mouth and eye sockets gaping at the world with the dumb idiocy of death. But Michael could still make out, just barely, the familiar features of Old Man Wittig.

It was only then that Michael realized he could see easily despite the dark. He turned back towards the source of the light, and his shock was only compounded by what he saw.

Before him, nestled in the middle of the willows and atop a vast, sprawling tangle of green vines, sat the biggest pumpkin Michael had ever seen. It swelled in a huge orange orb, and several vines grew high around it, their tips curving outward like birdcages, and within them danced the fluttering green light of witchfire.

A creaking groan came from the pumpkin, and from its top leaves rustled and stretched apart. Michael stared, stunned as a figure rose out of the pumpkin. Skin a pale orange. Hair a bright green. A face radiantly beautiful, and breasts as large as the pumpkins in the field yet so much softer. Her hips plugged the pumpkin’s top as she stretched from the peak, her eyes opening, glowing the poisonous green of the witchfire as she looked down on him with a smile.

“Hello,” she crooned.

Michael slammed his jaw shut and scrambled to his feet. An alraune. A dryad! A creature of the forest. Winsome and cunning, he had heard countless tales of the fates that awaited those they tempted into their groves. He reeled back from the figure, only to trip again on the corpse of Old Man Wittig, this time finding himself on his rump.

“Oh dear!” the pumpkin alraune giggled. “You are a clumsy one. Here, let me help.”

“I ah!” Michael gasped as vines pushed against his back, twisting under his arms and hoisting him to his feet.

“There we are. Much better,” she said, then put a coquettish finger to her lip. “Hmm, although we aren’t quite on the same level, are we? Why, you’re just tall enough to talk to my big melons, aren’t you?”

Michael stared as she hefted her impressive bust, giving those plush, orange orbs a bounce in her hands, the shadows of the lanterns fluttering across them in a way that made his head spin. He shook it off, trying to take a step back. “I… who… you can’t be here,” he said.

“Can’t I?” the pumpkin woman said. “But I’ve been here for such a very long time. I am Cucuria. A pleasure to meet you.”

“But… the barrier…”

She giggled again. “Ohhh, I’ve been in place much longer than your silly barrier. But I’m a… seasonal spirit. I only get big… and strong… and jiggly now,” she cooed, giving her breasts another teasing wobble.

Michael swallowed, trying not to look at those impressive tits. “I uh… I don’t…”

“Ohhhh, but let’s not talk about me,” Cucuria said sweetly. “Let’s talk about you. And what we can do together.”

“S-sorry?”

“Oh,” she said, cocking her head. “Didn’t you come here for me?”

“N-no! I thought I heard a woman in… in distress.”

“How fortunate!” Cucuria giggled, sending her melons bouncing with mirth and the lanterns bobbing around her. “Why, that’s exactly what I am. A pretty damsel in distress.”

“You… are?” Michael said dubiously.

“But of course, silly! I’m in ever so much need of a handsome, strong young man. One who loves big… soft… breasts…”

She gave her bust another jiggle, but Michael managed to avoid staring at them this time, focusing instead on her face. Lit by the green lamps, there was something menacing in the light of her eyes and turn of her lip. Something that made his stomach flip and his pants feel tight.

“You…” He cleared his throat. “You needed help?”

“Oh yes! It’s been such a terrible season this year. I fear poor Walter simply didn’t have it in him to help me.”

“Walter? You mean…” Michael looked back at the shriveled corpse and felt another shudder.

“Poor soul,” Cucuria sighed. “He tried to give me his all, truly, but I’m afraid he was just too old now.”

“Y-you mean, you…”

“It was a mutual arrangement,” Cucuria said, touching her impressive chest. “I give him the biggest pumpkins around, and he gives me just a little taste of his lifeforce. Just a quick nibble. And I make the meal… mmm… so very good…”

So that was the secret. Michael knew that alraunes could feed on the essence of their prey, though some preferred to keep their thralls in a permanent state of love-drunk, perfumed submission. But he had never heard of one like Cucuria.

“You killed him,” Michael breathed.

“Oh dear, but I didn’t. He killed himself. Poor thing,” Cucuria sighed, once more fondling the plump orbs of her breasts. “He was just obsessed with pumping into me. Just pumping and pumping his needy cock into my flower. All so he could make these girls even… mmm… bigger.”

“B-bigger?” Michael said, again caught by the bobbing of her breasts.

“Oh yes,” Cucuria murmured. “So much bigger. Do you really think this is as big as I can make them? My breasts can grow so much… mmm… bigger. So heavy. So soft. So big you could bury your head between them and just… mmm… rest…”

Michael blinked. The lanterns were swaying around her again, their glow framing her, illuminating her as her hips began to slowly sway from side to side. He felt a pull towards the alraune. As if the world were bending around her. Twisting and shaping itself to draw him in deeper and deeper towards her.

“I… I sh-should go,” he gasped, turning.

“Are you sure?” Cucuria said, one of her lanterns suddenly dangling before him, the flame within swaying, captivating his eyes. “But I haven’t even made my offer.”

“I uh… I don’t think…” Michael said distantly as he watched the lantern bob, the green flame flickering and dancing. Fluttering and swirling…

“But you haven’t even heard what it is,” Cucuria said, her lantern moving around him, pulling him as if his eyes were tethered to the flame, compelling him to again face the pumpkin girl, her pouty lips filled with a smile, her lidded eyes gleaming with glowing promise. “Shouldn’t you hear my offer first?”

“I don’t… I don’t think…”

“Would it really be so bad?” Cucuria said.

Michael hesitated, his eyes following the lantern as it swayed, the witchfire again vaguely resembling a woman. A woman with big… soft breasts…

Would it be so bad? Just hearing her out surely wouldn’t… wouldn’t be a problem. “I… I suppose I could listen…”

“What a good boy,” Cucuria cooed, her words sending shivers up Michael’s spine. “I knew you would. Such a clever man knows a good deal when he hears one. And it is suuuuch a good deal. I’m sure you’ll absolutely love. It.”

“Uh huh,” he said, watching the flickering green flame sway, her tones rising, falling, like the ticking of a clock with every pendulous sway.

“It’s very simple, my handsome human. You give me some… mmm… of that wonderful lifeforce of yours, and make my breasts… mmm… all big… and soft… and you can do just… anything with them.”

“A-anything?” Michael said breathlessly.

“Anything,” Cucuria crooned.

Michael… Michael knew something was wrong here. And yet… and yet he couldn’t look away from her. From her chest. From her big, soft breasts. And to make them bigger… it stunned him to imagine. Those ripe melons growing heavier. Softer. Big as his head. Bigger than his head. Big enough to bury his head between them.

And yet… and yet…

He forced himself to remember Wittig’s body, because he couldn’t quite seem to move his head and look at it. Not while that lantern flame was swaying above her big orange breasts. Not when the shadows danced and chased each other over those curves with the swing of the lantern. He licked his lips. “I… I can’t… Wittig…”

“Was so veeeeery old,” Cucuria said, her voice like the whisper of an autumn breeze. Dripping with honeyed condescension. “So old and… used up… And it took him ever so many years to get so… drained… And you’re so very young. So very strong. So very…” Her tongue flicked across her lips. “Virile. Not to mention your magic. Why, I bet I won’t even need to touch your lifeforce. I bet I can just drink that sweet magic of yours. Just a quick sip, and you can do anything with my breasts. Why not sample them? Why not see if it’s worth it? Would one try really be so bad?”

Michael knew it would be. Instinctively he realized this. Yet he couldn’t seem to look away. He felt the warmth in his veins. The tingling arousal and heaviness of his balls. Gods he was warm. Gods he was horny. And what was a taste? A sample? Would it be so bad? Wittig had lived for decades. What was one quick try?

“I… I suppose… suppose a taste…” he said softly.

“Attaboy,” Cucuria said, her eyes shining in the glow of the lamps. “Now, take off those silly pants. You don’t need them.”

“Don’t need them…?”

“That’s right.”

Michael’s hands moved slowly, as if still not quite believing he was doing this. But he was. And it was fine. Everything was fine. He’d just get a taste. See what happened. Then he could head home. He could go home and… and forget all this happened.

But only after.

Only after…

He shucked his pants off, his cock tingling in the cool autumn breeze, his balls aching in the fondling of the wind. Cucuria’s eyes lit with anticipation.

“Good boy. My my! That’s a lovely cock. So big and thick. Mmmm. I can’t wait to give it a taste.”

Michael flushed with embarrassment and pleasure. His eyes were caught as a vine twisted up from the base of Cucuria’s pumpkin, the tip ending in a large bulb. As he watched the bulb opened, revealing a slick hole, drooling with sap.

“Come closer,” Cucuria said, her voice a whisper tickling in his ears. “Come closer, and let me show you… some fun…”

Michael nodded, drawn forward by the bobbing lamp. He found himself right before the alraune, her impressive breasts before his eyes, wobbling tantalizingly in the fluttering shadows of the witchfire lamps.

“Good boy,” Cucuria crooned.

“Ah!” Michael gasped as the bulb engulfed his cock, swallowing it in the warm tightness of its embrace. He groaned, his legs wobbling as the bulb gave a hungry suck, rippling around his manhood, sucking him like the most wonderful pair of lips he had ever known.

“Mmmmm. That’s it,” Cucuria breathed. “Goooood boy. Oh, I can feel how virile that big, thick cock of yours is. And those balls!” She giggled as vines slithered around his groin, cupping his balls in their twining grasp. “Mmm. So very full. I can’t wait to get a taste of that cum.”

Michael panted, barely able to process her words. His cock throbbed, needy, desperate. The flutter of the lamps sending shadows spinning around his eyes, their glow washing over his rapturous face as he thrust shamelessly into the hungry bulb, the slick sap making his cock so sensitive. So slick. “Ah!” he gasped. “Ah… ah… nnnnn! G-good. So gooood!”

“I know, stud,” Cucuria said, her hands gently cupping his cheeks, tilting his head back so he was looking into her glowing eyes. “It’s so good. So good for you. I’ll be so very good for you. And all you gotta do is pump. Pump that thick, manly cum for me. Pump for my tits. Pump it, stud. Pump. Pump!”

Michael obeyed. He couldn’t stop. Couldn’t dream of stopping. The feel of her bulb sucking his cock was beyond anything he’d known. The sap oozed down his shaft, warm on his balls. His body ached. He could feel his cum churn. His pleasure grow. His orgasm growing nearer. Nearer. His balls fit to burst! Just a little more. A little more…

“O-oooooooh!” Michael groaned, his body shuddering, his orgasm surging up from his heavy balls, pounding through his veins, rushing into his cock and exploding into the waiting flower. He shuddered as he pumped, as the bulb swallowed, thick bulges working down the vine and feeding into Cucuria’s base. He sagged, eyes fairly rolling back, body shuddering in unspeakable pleasure as her bulb drank down his cum, only remaining standing by the vines supporting his back and her hands on his head.

“Oh yesssss!” Cucuria moaned, her eyelids fluttering, lashes beating like leaves caught on an autumn breeze. “Oh baby yesss! So mmm… so goood! So much better than Wittig’s watery seed. Mmm. And look… ah… look at that.”

She tilted his head down, and Michael gaped as he watched her breasts bulge, swelling with every swallow of her stem, her orange tits growing so big and heavy he could fairly hear them slosh with her sap.

“Oh… Oh g-gods,” he breathed.

“All thanks to you, handsome,” Cucuria cooed. “Quite the taste, hm? And you’re still so hard! So vigorous. Do you want another taste?”

“A-another?” Michael gasped. “B-but…”

“Pleeeease?” Cucuria cooed, easing him forward, burying his face between those swelling orbs. “For meeeee?”

Michael’s eyes rolled back as those massive breasts engulfed his head. Perfect. Flawless. Soft. Firm. A farm boy like him knew the quality of good produce, and the melons engulfing his head were blue ribbon winners for sure. He shivered in the cool autumn night, but not from the cold. Another teasing suck engulfed his cock, and Michael groaned in delight.

“Y-yesssss,” he gasped.

“Good boy,” Cucuria giggled. “We’ll make a wonderful farmer of you yet.”

Michael could only moan as he found himself bending his knees, kneeling against the pumpkin of her lower body, his hips working, pumping him into the milking bulb. His hands cupped her massive breasts, squeezing them around his head, bouncing them, nuzzling them, his lips kissing those orange tits. Adoring them. Entranced by him.

By the witchlight of the pumpkin girl, Michael rutted into her, every spurt of his cum swelling the breasts around his head, yet never blocking out Cucuria’s words. Words that slithered into his helpless mind, wrapping up his thoughts in their dulcet tones and gentle instructions.

After all, there would be no question as to him taking over Wittig’s farm. His family would be delighted he was staying in town. Wittig had no heirs, so there would be no question of his ownership. Most would simply chuckle and shake their heads, saying that to farm was in the blood.

And his pumpkins would be even bigger than Wittig’s ever were. Even heavier. Even plumper.

And with his help, the growing season would last long in the coming years…

[mllllonsknlves]

Knives’ Knives

Reposting another twitter thread I made for archival purposes. Its literally a copy and paste and more images are shown on the original twitter post just because tumblr is janky when adding so many images to a text post.

So I was watching tristamp for the hundredth time and noticed something I hadn't picked up on before. Millions Knives' blades have different modes. Four that we've seen so far to be exact.

The one shown here is most common. A default state, folded and seemingly duller than others. Even the wire connecting the blades is rounded. This is the form we see most often, and the only form shown directly in front of Vash (that we've seen so far, will touch on again later.)

These seem to be an attack stance for the blades. The wire even expands into what could cause more damage than just the blades alone. The first are pointed outward while the second is pointed inward, depending on the purpose being served- attacking versus grabbing.

We then have the detached blades. They start in the default state but seem to expand as more form.

Even in the preview for episode 11, Knives uses the folded, almost rounded blades. Because he's in front of Vash and doesn't REALLY want to harm him, at least not more than necessary.

Obviously, Nai uses the folded blades when trying to connect with the core. He does not want to harm it. The end of the blades act at a connecting point, and its likely very similar to how he connected with Vash in the first place.

What is particularly fascinating is that even when attacking Meryl, his blades are folded. It's most likely due to the fact that Vash is RIGHT BEHIND her and doesn't want to get him in the crossfire. His blades are still folded upon impact with Vash's gun.

He does not extend the blades at the start of their fight. Not once do they open beyond the folded state, not at a distance, and not hand to hand.  Even when theyre out in the open and hes flinging Vash around, theyre still folded. We see him manipulate them with extreme accuracy, and yet even when they're in freefall, he does not USE THEM AT ALL. Not to grab Vash or the cube.

Even after slaughtering all the soldiers and he floats menacingly above Vash to continue their argument, his blades are folded. So, either he can still cause that damage while folded, or the more likely thing, is that he refolded them after killing them to confront Vash again.

The entire rest of their fight. Folded. Grabbing the angel arm. Folded.

HOWEVER. AND THIS IS THE MOST HEARTBREAKING THING OF ALL. ONCE HE HAS DECIDED THAT THE NAI THAT VASH KNEW IS DEAD. That is when the blades expand. Because he's snapped. Broken. He has /truly/ and /wholly/ become Millions Knives in that moment, because he has lost Vash.

Its also worth noting that his blades and his wings are burned off before he lets go. Something something symbolism. Anyway, hope you enjoyed the agony uvu

I found more things to add to the things that were said above upon another watch through. Not sure theyre particularly poignant, but thought they were interesting enough to tack on. 

So I was watching ep3 and noticed how many times Knives swaps between the modes. The initial grab of the first women, the blades are pulled in the back position, but the second woman is grabbed with them in the forward position and dragged away and killed with the back position.

Immediately after, we see Knives advancing the steps and his blades floating around them in the forward stance. When they shoot forward to seek out the Plant, theyre back. As he goes to jump, theyre forward again.

As soon as the Plant is grabbed, the blades are folded, showing the care he has for them. There is one instance of them being forward, but likely just to get a more secure hold. Otherwise, always folded.

The ONLY INSTANCE (save for those final moments in 12) where Knives uses an "attack stance" of his blades in front of Vash is when he's using them to block bullets. In defense.

He is INCREDIBLY deliberate with how his blades are used and shows a high level of skill. He wields them with PURPOSE. Anyway, thank you for tuning into another episode of my hyperfixation o/

[kodared]

Welcome Home Neighbor~ ✨ You and your friends enjoy passing the time exploring old and abandoned places and selling the leftovers for spare cash, but what would happen if things don't go according to plan?

Chapter 1/?

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

You did not like this adventure one bit.

“Oh come on Y/N! What’re ya? Chicken?!”

Your friends Badgered you relentlessly as you all approached the tattered and run-down building. The once brightly coloured sign is now barely legible reading “Playfellow Workshops” In bold letters.

“I don't know guys... This building looks old anyways, I doubt there's anything in there worth taking”

Your eyes scan the shattered windows and brightly coloured “No Trespassing” sign, You don't know how you always get into these situations with your friends. It seemed whenever you were around it was always,

“Hey, I know a good spot to go to!”... or... “C'mon! We can use the money for a new Game!”

Nevertheless, your friends would never try to put you in danger... Right?

…

Yeah, nope they definitely would if it meant you guys could afford the new Nintendo game.

“C'mon, what if there's some vintage film in there? Think of all the possibilities Y/N!”

One of your friends shouted as he pushed you toward the entrance of the building. Your shoes made an imprint into the gravel driveway as you tried to stop yourself from going any closer.

You did not like the look of this place, the energy was off and bad vibes were lingering all around the already busted open wired gate.

However as you looked behind your shoulder, you knew from the looks on all of your friend's faces you weren't getting yourself out of this one.

So, with a heavy sigh, you marched forward past the tattered gates and steeled yourself for what you might find.

As you approached the giant red doors of the Studio, you remembered most places when they are shut down have the door bolted shut from the inside for this exact reason!

A small grin sneaked its way onto your face as you put one hand out and turned your head, ready to tell your friends there was no way to enter the building.

…

Of course, the door had to open flawlessly with a small push. Your small grin disappeared as fast as your friends had, with them nowhere to be found in your sight. They did that a lot though so you pushed forward into the studio.

First and foremost this place was big. It must have had many productions and props for it to be filled to the extent it was.

Boxes and cobwebs littered the concrete floor, a thick layer of dust coated the walls and plaques hung on the walls, the only light source being the dim light provided through the shattered windows.

You wouldn't get far without a flashlight though, as you searched your pockets for your phone your eyes found themselves scanning the walls for a light switch. Your efforts for a light switch proving to be for naught as you finally found your phone and clicked on the light.

Papers littered the floor, some covered with sketches of what you could only assume to be characters, and some with writing and... Was that a contract??

This place seemed to be in a devastating mess, even the concrete flooring felt unstable as you took steps farther into the Studio.

One thing caught your eye regardless, making you trek deeper and deeper to get a better glimpse. It was hard to tell by the dim light coming from your phone, but it seemed to be a Set used for the Characters to interact with.

A bright red house sat in the center of the room, its mechanical eyes shut with rust covering the surface. If the required items were remaining to get it to work, you knew by now there was no hope of restoring it.

You moved on to a farther corner of the warehouse, your curiosity seeming to reach its peak as you saw a door leading to an office. You rolled up your sleeve to wipe the dust from the door, it read

“Directors Office.”

Well… If there were any profitable things to be found you guess they would be in there, reaching for the door handle, it jiggled in your grip. Locked. Of course it was.

Dropping down onto one knee, you began to search your pockets to see if you had anything that would help with breaking into the office. Not very keen on returning to your friends empty-handed.

All you could find though was a wadded-up Five, a broken pin from your school backpack, and a soda tab…

…You considered yourself a very organized person.

Rising to your feet once more, holding the broken pin in your hand you began to try to finagle it into the lock, and by some miracle it... Worked?

You weren't one to doubt your talents but this just felt wrong, the lock should not have opened the door as quickly as it did.

The thought left your mind as you pushed forward, you didn’t want to be in here longer than necessary.

To your dismay, all that you could find were more animation and puppeteering sketches, they looked very intricate and old, with detailing on how to hold the strings for a puppet named Wally Darling and such.

From what you could gather from the scattered documents, this studio used to run a show titled Welcome Home, where the main Puppet named Wally would go and have adventures with his friends.

You ‘wished your adventures didn't always lead to trespassing’ you thought as your eyes landed on a rather cute piece of art containing Wally and his friends.

The designs were cute and simple, it was no wonder the show had its successes, one thought still lingered, why did this place shut down?

You understood the concept of bankruptcy, it was a common theme in your economics class, but this didn't make any sense.

The papers on the desk nonetheless clearly stated a bankruptcy claim, and a lawsuit file, with highlighted words stating there were OSHA violations, and rumours of puppeteers being harmed on the job.

It felt as if your mind was being run in circles the more you examined the papers on the desk,

Until you heard footsteps.

Your breath is caught in your throat. The footsteps sounded like they were coming from the front of the building, recognized by the sounds of glass being stepped on. Of course they had to be coming from the only known entrance to this place.

Your brain quickly jumpstarted back into functioning as adrenaline coursed through your veins. Clicking off your flashlight you picked up what papers you could recognize, At least you wouldn't be empty-handed. Making quick work of them and folding them into your jacket pocket.

Your hair stood up on its neck as the steps rapidly approached. You had that cold feeling running up and down your spine as you scanned the room for any sign of escape.

Other than the main office door of course there was no other way to flee. Your muddied shoes provided you with quieter footsteps as you crept towards the door.

The broken windows allow for minimal light to produce shadows of boxes and various rusted equipment.

One thing remained prominent in your mind, however,

Where were the footsteps coming from?

There was no shadow in the front of the building, yet those menacing footsteps kept crescendoing in your direction.

You had no time to worry about this, you needed to escape, and from the looks of it, this may be your only chance to do so. With a final deep breath, you shot from your previous place of hiding and took off in the direction of the doors.

The dim sunlight from the windows allowed you to avoid various boxes and obstacles in your path, You were not expecting however to feel the eyes of a predator on your back.

You tried your best to ignore it, but your breath proceed to become more laboured and panicked. Feeling as if you were a mouse caught in a glue trap. Your feet feel as heavy as concrete bricks as they hit the floor, where are you even running?

You couldn't tell. You tripped on what seemed to be your own feet, the world spinning around you, and you felt sick. What was going on? You felt panic proceed to grip your very soul as you felt the weak structure crack under your body.

This was not how this was supposed to go.

You wished you just stayed home. You could have minded your business and scrolled on the internet, but no. You had to be nosy and go exploring.

Your breaths became crazed and your eyes glued themselves onto the gray concrete. Not daring to look behind or beside you, in fear of making eye contact with what had frozen you with fear.

…

None of that seemed to matter anymore as the spinning feeling took hold of your brain. You could feel a migraine begin to pierce your eyes making your head throb.

Before you passed out,

you could have sworn the concrete was not this soft.

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

~Taking Welcome Home Requests! The full story can be found on my Ao3 ʕ •ᴥ•ʔゝ☆ -

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

[sexiestpodcastcharacter]

I want to do more adaptations polls but unlike with television adaptions I haven't found a handy Wikipedia page, so I only know what I know and would appreciate help filling in this list.

Novel and Graphic Novel Adaptations

The Adventure Zone (ongoing)

Alice Isn't Dead

Bubble

Oz 9

Tabletop Roleplaying Game Adaptations

Old Gods of Appalachia

The Silt Verses

The Magnus Archives (forthcoming)

Welcome to Night Vale (announced for 2024, but we'll see)

Novel and Graphic Novel Tie-Ins

Welcome to Night Vale (3 novels)

The Bright Sessions (3 novels)

Limetown

Within the Wires — You Feel It Just Below the Ribs

SAYER — Welcome to Typhon

[irondadfics]

Hi I'm looking for a fic with hydra in it....I really remember that Peter got taken by them and that it was somehow Steve's fault in someway....Peter also did a wired thing where he pointed at body parts and reiterated rules from hydra that stuck out to me a lot...I haven't found the fic and it was one of my favorites sry if to vague

Could this be your fic?

[viridiave]

it's not often that any piece of literature can impact me so much that it goes on to define how I see the world and how I want to live but I just need to get it out there that Ray Bradbury, Harlan Ellison, and Julian Gough's works have changed my life

I'm working through reading the rest of Ray Bradbury's works that I've found in my university's library, but I need you all to know that when I spotted The Fog Horn in our archive, I almost cried and missed my shuttle home. There Will Come Soft Rains has permanently instilled in my mind visions of the quiet world without us. Kaleidoscope broke my heart and mended it again when all the men fell like stars and wondered if that was how all dying people felt.

I know Harlan Ellison for one thing and it's I Have No Mouth And I Must Scream, and it forced my brain open so it could accept it in its entirety. AM's malice and hatred is engraved into my mind as his own is engraved into miles of his own wires.

then there's Julian fuckin Gough and the Minecraft End Poem and like - I can be funny about this but I have genuinely never felt more loved than when I was reading through that thing for the first time. There is worth in dreaming and being alive.

anyway they're the reasons I really want to take short story-writing seriously thanks for sitting through this short post of short, unhinged praise

[zadrkinkmeme23]

Full 2023 ZADR Kinkmeme Fill Masterlist

We received 22 fills in total for the 2023 Kinkmeme, which are all listed beneath the cut. If you haven't read them already, we'd greatly appreciate if you'd leave kudos or perhaps even a comment on these wonderful fics! Doing so greatly helps our event to thrive.

Please remember that all characters in these NSFW fics are depicted as 18+.

'You, And Me, and Keef.' - After finding out that Zim has asked Keef of all people out on a date, Dib decides to tail them in order to figure out just what Zim's diabolical scheme is.

AKA - Dib's jealous, and has a wank about it.

[Tags: Dib/Zim, Keef/Zim, Explicit, No Archive Warnings Apply, Masturbation, Obliviousness, Jealousy, Unrequited Crush, Unresolved Sexual Tension, Awkward Dates, Car Sex, Stalking]

.

'Post Blue' - "Dib wanted to tell Zim how nothing had felt right since he left, but he couldn't. The words withered in the back of his throat before they could even fully bloom. But he had to do something to let Zim know, something to convey the depths of the maelstrom that threatened to consume him. Swallowing down all of his common sense, he surged forwards, and pressed his lips to his ex-husband’s."

[Tags: Ex Sex, Closet Sex, Drunk Sex, Post Divorce, Ambiguous/Open Ending, Unresolved Emotional Tension]

An Extended Cut of this fic can also be found here

.

'Only Because I Love You' - by Wipmoy

"Oh no! Zim and Dib have been abducted by alien pornographers, who really want some footage of them fucking. And they can’t leave, or else they explode.

Well, that’d probably suck way worse, if they weren’t already secretly into each other. Zim’s pride cannot be vanquished so easily."

[Tags: Dib/Zim, No Archive Warnings Apply, Dubious Consent, Mildly Dubious Consent, Fuck or Die, Aliens Made Them Do It, Exhibitionism, Praise Kink, Humiliation, Tentacle Dick, Zim Has A Penis And Vagina, Oral Sex, Kissing, Rough Kissing, Unsafe Sex, Swearing]

.

'Slightly Less Boring' - by Wipmoy

"Turns out, intergalactic space travel isn't that exciting. Dib thinks he can fix that, though."

[Tags: Dib/Zim, No Archive Warnings Apply, Oral Sex, Blowjobs In Car, Blow Jobs, In SPACE!, Road Head, Established Relationship, Choking, Coughing, Flirting, Oral Fixation, Tentacle Dick]

.

'Trip My Wire' - After getting stood up on one of their scheduled fights, Zim discovers that Dib blew off their plans to go and hang out with some other hideous human instead.

This won't do. This won't do at all.

[Tags - Dib/Zim, No Archive Warnings Apply, Interns & Internships, College AU, Zim is Bad at Feelings, Dib is Bad at Feelings, Frenemies Dib & Zim, Dib is So Done, Jealousy, Stalking, Masturbation, Sexual Awakening, Sloppy Makeouts, Grinding, Coming In Pants, Flirtatious Bullying, Mutual Pining, Enemies to Lovers]

.

'Let Him Bite Your Fingers' - A tiny alien flew into Dib’s room and now he’s keeping him.

[Tags: Dib/Zim, Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Micro/Macro, Captivity, Eventual Smut, Eye Trauma, Praise Kink, Dubious Consent, Torture, Blood Loss, Forced Orgasm, Stabbing, Object Insertion, Dib Being Creepy, Come Eating, Mild Gore, Intoxication]

.

'Closer' - A fight between Dib and Zim takes a decidedly more lustful turn, forcing Zim to get creative in order to fully conquer his nemesis.

AKA - Zim uses his own slick as lubricant to fuck Dib.

[Tags: Top Zim, Bottom Dib, Alien Biology, Zim Has a Penis & Vagina, Intersex Zim, Slick As Lube, Anal Sex, Anal Fingering, Teasing, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Edging, Biting, Light Breathplay, Power Play, ZADE]

.

'Balderdash!' by SlimySlugJuice - Dib and Zim attend a Victorian costume party. Also, they're idiots.

[Tags: Dib/Zim General Audiences, No Archive Warnings Apply, Dib/Zim, Victorian, Costume Parties & Masquerades, Bad Flirting, Aged-Up Characters, No Sexual Content]

.

'Twisted Transistor' - Frustrated by his inability to catch and expose Zim, Dib makes a poppet doll of his life-long rival. Now, all he has to do it test it.

[Tags: Dib/Zim, Rape/Non-Con, Explicit, Non-Consensual Voyeurism, Non-Consensual Touching, Forced Orgasm, Wet & Messy, Vibrators, Dib makes a spirit doll of Zim uses it for sexual purposes, Masturbation, Starts off non-con but ends consensual, Aged-Up Characters, Dib Being Creepy, Multiple Orgasms, Coming Untouched, Coming In Pants, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Public Humiliation, Public Masturbation, Non-Consensual Oral Sex, Bathing/Washing, Light Bondage, Sensory Deprivation, Cock Rings, Begging, Light Dom/sub]

.

'Dwarf Star' - by bachmanroad - Dib wasn't cut out for this.

[Tags - Dib/Zim, Teen Audiences & Up, No Archive Warnings Apply, Dib/Zim, Unplanned Pregnancy, Complicated Relationships, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, (That tag is for Dib btw not their unplanned smeet), Aged Up Characters]

.

'Putting My Foot Down' - SlimySlugJuice

'Zim is forced to dip his toes into uncharted waters.'

[Tags - Dib/Zim Explicit, Rape/Non-Con, Aged-Up Characters, Foot Fetish, Foot Jobs, Mind Control, Power Play, Dib Being Creepy, Spit As Lube, Verbal Humiliation, Come Shot, Come Eating (Implied), Starts off as non-con but Zim gets into it]

.

'Strict Machine' - Fed up with his lab drone's bratty attitude, Taller Dib sends Zim in for "treatment".

[Tags: Dib/Zim, Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Dubious Consent, Fantastical Hysteria, Alien Cultural Differences, Fucking Machines, Vibrators, Irkens Are Terrible, Medical Kink, Public Humiliation, Light Bondage, Forced Orgasm, Forced Ejaculation, Masturbation, Power Play, Irken Dib, Voyeurism, Exhibitionism]

.

'Fairground Freak' - Dib is a university student who came to London from the Americas with a not-so-hidden interest in the supernatural and bizarre. He then learns of a new and fascinating creature of unknown origin, and simply must know more.

[Tags: Dib/Zim, Teen Audiences & Up, Dib/Zim, Alternative Universe - Victorian, Carnival, Nonbinary Zim, Victorian Attitudes, PAKless Zim, Drug Addiction, Strip Tease, Dib Being Creepy]

.

'Diet Stripe' - “You will finish this comically large beverage - yes, all of it - and we will wait. Even once you have reached capacity, you are not allowed to void liquid waste until Zim is touching your sossidgemeet.”

“Can you quit calling my dick that?”

[Tags: Dib/Zim, No Archive Warnings Apply, Mature, Urination, Omorashi, No Sex, Desperation Play, Don't Like Don't Read, Submissive Dib, Aged Up Characters]

.

'Dib's Game' - After Dib falls asleep in a compromising position, Zim is left trapped in something of a predicament.

[Tags: Dib/Zim, Explicit, No Warnings Apply, Dib/Zim, Fight Sex, Hate Sex, Light Bondage, Handcuffs, Cock Warming, Vaginal Sex, Zim Has A Penis & Vagina, Somnophilia, Technically Consensual Somnophilia but Dib falls asleep by accident, Praise Kink, Affectionate Insults, Subspace, Sleep Sex, Ambiguous Relationship, Whether this is ZADR or ZADE with benefits it up to the reader, Predicament Bondage, Aged-Up Characters, ZADRKinkmeme23fill]

.

'Straight To Video' - Back on Earth, Dib wouldn’t ever have imagined himself falling into this line of work, but out here, with the opportunity to become anyone and anything he desired, he found it oddly fitting that now he was the one being filmed and spoken of like one of the cryptids he’d spent his whole life chasing back home. 

[Tags: Dib/Zim, Explicit, No Warnings Apply, Dib/Zim, Alternate Universe - Different First Meeting, Porn Star AU, Sex Work, Aged-Up Characters, Vaginal Sex, Size Difference, Desk Sex, Plugs, Alien Biology, Zim Has A Penis & Vagina, Older Dib, Xenophiliac Dib, Sexual Roleplay, Porn Video, Porn Tropes, Literally Porn With Plot, In SPACE!, Wet & Messy, Squirting, Now with Dib's traumatic backstory, Oral Sex, Riding, Topping from the Bottom, Come Swallowing]

.

'What is love?' - “Aliens can't orgasm can they? I can't do anything for you?” Dib asked as Zim crawled onto the couch. He awkwardly shoved his softening cock back into his pants, too tired and lazy to properly clean up. “Considering Irkens have no genitalia, no.” Zim laid his head in Dib’s lap. “Will I ever be able to see whatever 'nothing’ you have down there?” “Maybe one day I’ll deem your puny human eyes worthy.” Dib sighed.

[Tags: Dib/Zim, Explicit, No Archive Warnings Apply, Dib/Zim, Awkward First Times, Alien Cultural Differences, Queer Themes, Aged Up Characters]

.

'Horny Dib, What Will He Do?' - Dib is drunk on some mysterious off-planet sex pollen, what will he do?

[Tags: Dib/Zim, Explicit, No Warnings Apply, Dib/Zim, Creampie, Sex Pollen, Multiple Orgasms, Multiple Sex Positions, Vaginal Sex, Zim Has A Penis And A Vagina, Mildly Dubious Consent, Smut, Aged-Up Dib]

.

'Howl' - Irritated by Dib’s recent strange and cagey behaviour, Zim decides to follow him to a strange house in the woods.

Unbeknownst to him, Dib is a werewolf. And unfortunately for them both, it’s rutting season.

[Tags - Dib/Zim, Explicit, Rape/Non-Con, Dib/Zim, Werewolf Dib, Dubious Consent, Werewolf Sex, Accidental Knotting, Knotting, Rutting, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Mating Bites, Mating Bond, Master/Pet, Bottom Zim, Top Dib, No smut in ch1, Eventual Smut]

.

'The Exchange' - Zim finds a rare supernatural item that Dib is willing to do *anything* to get his hands on.

[Tags: Dib/Zim, Explicit, No Warnings Apply, Dom/Sub, Dom Drop, Top Drop, Unintentional Dom/Sub Dynamic, Top Zim, Bottom Dib, Boot Worship, Spanking, Bondage, Vivisection, Exhibitionism, Masturbation, Anal Sex, Throat Fucking, Zim Is Bad At Feelings, Bless These Idiots, Denial of Feelings, Pre-Relationship, Adult Dib, Adult Zim]

.

'Makes me wanna take Charles Atlas by the hand' by SlimySlugJuice

'A rather large Zim winds up in Dib's timeline. Naturally, Dib has some questions regarding the anatomy of his musclebound nemesis.'

[Tags: Dib/Zim, Explicit, No Warnings Apply, Aged Up Characters, Alternate Timelines, Non-Canon Compliant, Post-Zimvoid Arc, Size Difference, Muscles, Large Cock, Hand Jobs, Come Shot, Come Eating, Grinding, Praise Kink, Coming In Pants, Post-Coital Cuddling, Some canon-typical grossness]

.

'Proper Discipline' - All his life, Dib had dreamt of being the one down on his knees. Thanks to The Club, he can finally act out his wildest, naughtiest fantasy.

[Tags: Dib/Zim, Explicit, No Warnings Apply, Irken Dib, Irken Empire, Irkens Are Terrible, Sex Work, Sex Club, Dom/sub, Fantastical Kink, Role Reversal, Power Imbalance, Power Play, Implied Non-con Sex Work, Zim Used To Be A Breeding Drone, Oral Sex, Vaginal Sex, Top Zim, Bottom Dib]

[sometimesbrave]

read chapter 1: here, chapter 2: here, chapter 3: here

warnings: dead bodies

June 1986

***

"The death of me was so quiet

No friends and family allowed

Only my murderer, you, and the priest

Who told you to go to Hell"

- doomsday by Lizzy McAlpine

***

Today was the one year anniversary of Raja Mannar's reign in Khansaar. As a gift to their king, a Mannar Dhora delivered the Khansaar court the good news: Dhaara Shouryanga Raisaar's wife and son are dead.

They were both found in Odisha. They were captured to bring back to Khansaar. But they both had tried to escape again, so, they were beaten so much their faces were brutally disfigured and eventually they died. Raja Mannar had planned to hang the bodies outside Khansaar court, but he was advised against it, as it may instigate a few rebels. After seeing the two bloody corpses, he was finally at peace. This chapter has finally come to an end. No rightful claims to the throne remained. The throne of Khansaar belonged to him and him alone.

When Varadha received this news, his soul left his body. He felt as though he was observing himself from the outside. Then he heard someone screaming very loudly. Then he realised it was him. He had actually fallen to the floor, screaming his guts out while Baba hugged him to try and calm him down. Baachi was peering at his brother through the door, not understanding what to do.

After a few hours, Varadha went to the hospital to see the bodies against Baba's wishes. The most important thing now was to make sure the death rites were done properly. It was the least Varadha could do. He can deal with his grief another day. Today he had to be responsible. When he was about to enter the mortuary, Baba took him aside.

"Varadha, whatever you see in there, must be between us. You cannot get shocked. You must accept the truth that Deva and his mother are gone, forever."

Varadha nodded his head. He entered the mortuary and saw two bodies covered in white sheets. He asked the helper to lift the sheets.

The helper looked at Baba concerned, "Sir, I don't think that's a good idea."

Varadha would not budge from his position.

"I am ordering you to lift the face covering. I will not ask again."

The helper relented and lifted the covers off both the bodies.

Varadha did not recognise the faces. There was nothing recognisable. They were so beaten. The eyes and lips were swollen while the scalp was ripped in a few places on both of them. Varadha's hands shook as he approached the bodies. He stood beside the boy's body and began to cry. He fell on his body and started weeping hysterically. Baba tried to pull him away from the body when Varadha noticed something. The bruise Deva got after his fight with Rudra's pahalwan….the electric wire shocked him. The bruise spanned from his arm to his neck and it was no longer there.

This was not Deva.

Varadha looked at Baba in disbelief.

Varadha was about to speak when Baba interrupted him, "Varadha, you are just in shock. We should get you home as soon as possible and plan for the death rites. We have to honour your friend and his mother. We must leave now."

As soon as Varadha and Baba reached home, Varadha hugged him.

"That is not Deva and Amma", he choked.

"No, they are not.", Baba admitted,

"They are just dead bodies of couple of poor strangers who will be buried in a strange land."

"But why?!", Varadha asked in disbelief.

"Because you are not the only person who cares about Deva and his mother. There are few powerful people in Khansaar who want them to be left alone"

"Who are they? Is it a Mannar Dhora?!"

"I also don't know alright. Just be grateful that this worked out in your favour. The most important thing for you to remember is that Deva and his mother are dead to Khansaar. So, your behaviour must not raise any suspicions.", Baba warned.

Though Varadha was overjoyed that Deva and Amma are not dead, he was sad that these strangers' bodies were mutilated and not given to their rightful family. The least he could do was provide them a proper funeral.

Thus, Raja Mannar believed that, on June 27th 1986, Deva Shouryaanga Raisaar and his mother's pyres were lit by his traitorous son, Varadharaja Mannar.

****

tags: @deadloverscity @ghostdriftexistence @sambaridli @rambheem-is-real @sinistergooseberries @vardhamannartitties, @moonnpaww @literariyumi @sana2410 @varadevaficrecs