#multi-level home accessible

[elitehomelifts]

5 Benefits of Compact Home Lifts for Sydney Residents in Australia

For many Sydney homeowners, multi-level living offers stunning views and ample space but can present accessibility challenges. Compact home lifts in Sydney, Australia are the ideal solution, offering numerous benefits.

1. Future-Proofing: As mobility decreases with age, installing a small home lift ensures long-term accessibility, allowing you to comfortably stay in your home.

2. Sustainability: Small home lifts in Sydney, Australia are energy-efficient, using less power than traditional elevators, making them an eco-friendly choice for sustainable living.

3. Customisation: These lifts can be tailored to fit your space and design preferences, blending seamlessly with your home's style.

4. Safety: Compact lifts reduce the risk of falls, offering a safer alternative to stairs for families with young children, elderly members, or those with mobility issues.

5. Quiet Operation: Unlike noisy traditional lifts, compact home lifts provide smooth, silent operation, maintaining a peaceful living environment.

Investing in a compact home lift enhances both convenience and comfort in your Sydney home.

[girlkisser13]

hermes cabin headcanons

children of hermes

• the most unorganized cabin BY FAR.

• they’re all HUGE gossipers. what do you expect, these children are the offspring of the og tea spiller.

• they know various pointless magic tricks and if they don't, their siblings will not hesitate to teach them.

• they can understand all languages since hermes is the god of language but when it comes to speaking, it comes out like google translate if there’s no education.

• they have a map of the world with places they’ve visited or want to visit. it’s color coded for each member of the cabin.

• they have a huge stash of (mostly stolen) cash hidden in multiple places around the world. its mostly used for bail money, college funds, and to help children of hermes start out in the mortal world.

• they will never get into an accident while travelling (i.e, shipwreck, car crash, plane crash, stranded, etc)

• they try and convince new campers their godly parent can be determined by "the sorting hat" which is basically an old straw hat they found lying on the beach.

• in the future, they set up a nationwide transportation network that works with the satyrs to get halfbloods to camp as quickly and safely as possible.

• they host frequent scavenger hunts around the camp. these hunts involve solving riddles, finding hidden objects, and sometimes include elements of trickery.

• they organize a secret santa every year where campers anonymously give small gifts or do kind deeds for each other.

• they tutor campers who want to learn new languages.

• when the underground railroad was formed, many children of hermes and athena assisted in its traversal and the freeing of slaves.

• they have wi-fi wherever they go. it’s only visible to demigods and only accessible to the children of hermes.

• there are no personal items in the their cabin.

• at first everyone was stealing each other's stuff but now it's in one big community pile and no one even knows what belongs to them anymore.

• they are seen as the mother hens of camp because almost every camp member has resided in their cabin and they're used to calming nightmares, comforting the younger kids when they get home sick or overwhelmed, and making sure that no one feels left out or rejected until they get claimed.

• every cabin has a loose floorboard that has been hollowed out underneath. every cabin thinks they’re the only one who has it. every cabin hides stuff in there like candy, soda, stuff like that that usually isn’t allowed in camp.

• the hermes cabin has dug out the entire underside of their cabin. they tore everything down there. It’s like the black market.

cabin exterior

• parts of their cabin are covered in ivy and other climbing plants, giving it a slightly wild and untamed appearance, much like the unpredictable nature of the hermes children.

• various symbols associated with hermes, like caduceuses, winged sandals, and messenger bags, are carved into the woodwork and painted around the entrance.

• their cabin is painted in vibrant colors that stand out, with murals or graffiti art depicting hermes-related imagery, like travelers, messengers, and playful tricksters. the art is regularly updated by the hermes children.

• besides the main door, there are several hidden or secret entrances around the cabin, known only to the hermes children. these are used for sneaking in and out, especially during pranks or after curfew.

cabin interior

• the cabin is filled with an eclectic mix of items, from maps and travel souvenirs to prank supplies and training gear. despite the clutter, everything has its place, and they can navigate it with ease.

• due to the large number of campers, the sleeping arrangements include not only bunk beds but also hammocks strung up in every available corner, creating a cozy, multi-level sleeping area.

• the walls are adorned with souvenirs from various quests and travels—postcards, photographs, foreign currency, and trinkets from different mythological locations. these serve as both decoration and inspiration.

• a wall is dedicated to an ever-expanding map of camp half-blood and the surrounding areas, filled with annotations, routes, and hidden spots discovered by the campers. this is a central hub for planning pranks and quests.

• they have a large, locked cabinet (with an ever-changing combination) that holds the cabin’s prank supplies— whoopee cushions, fake spiders, enchanted paint, and more. only the hermes head counselor knows the current combination.

• they have several hidden compartments and secret passages. these are known only to the children of hermes and are used for sneaking in and out or hiding during pranks.

cabin traditions

• they have an initiation ritual for their new siblings where they have break into the big house and steal something from it.

• they regularly organize prank wars within the cabin and sometimes with other cabins.

• they have nights dedicated to trading items. they bring trinkets, gear, or magical items they've collected, and trades are made in a festive, market-like atmosphere.

• they have regular craft nights where they create disguises, fake ids, lock-picking tools, and other items that might come in handy for quests or pranks.

• they have occasional midnight feasts where they sneak into the dining pavilion or other food storage areas, bringing back a feast to enjoy together while they gossip.

divider by @anqlicrosie

[eeriepromis]

LADS | SURVEY SUGGESTIONS

Feel free to pick and choose from these suggestions and copy & paste them into your in-game surveys. These are ideas a few girlies and I gathered, and I've restructured and condensed them into categories.

✦ GENERAL GAMEPLAY & EVENTS

Please increase permanent mini-game options to diversify gameplay beyond Kitty Cards and Claw Machine. A “My Room” or “Co-op Mode” (for mini-games or Orbit battles) would be amazing.

Add more long-term goals to Abyssal Chaos. Reset the reward track monthly so rewards can be re-earned. This would make it a consistent and reliable resource instead of a dead-end system.

Banner durations are too short. 7–10 days is not enough time to plan pulls or save. Please extend banners to 2–3 weeks like other gacha games.

Stop oversaturating multi-banners. Too many banners per month is overwhelming and discouraging for both F2P and spenders.

✦ RESOURCES & BALANCING

Add more consistent ways to earn diamonds, especially for endgame players. Increase rewards for Orbits, Abyssal Chaos, Bounty Hunts, and 5★ Memory upgrades. Plus better rewards for higher Orbit levels.

Improve drop rates for plushies (especially shiny & wanderer) and Bottle of Wishes/Crystals from Stage 9 Bounty Hunts. SSR bottles should also be obtainable on the last stage.

Allow trading in duplicate plushies (e.g. with friends) or refreshing plushie placement in Claw Machine.

Add pity system to Galaxy Explorer. The randomness makes ranking up 4★ cards frustrating.

Add more affinity-based rewards (Heartfelt Gift frequency, better poses for Rafayel and Sylus).

A way to initiate calls and video calls with the male leads.

Make Illusio permanent/bring it back with the ability to change MC's outfit too.

✦ CHARACTER & STORY CONTENT

Please give Sylus and Caleb more content to match the card counts, anecdotes, and bonds of Zayne/Xavier/Rafayel.

Release main story updates more regularly and provide a roadmap of upcoming content.

Let us decorate and use our own home as a meeting place with LIs, instead of being limited to the café.

Let us choose backgrounds like LI’s homes in the Café based on affinity.

Please include more voiced lines for the female lead. We would love to hear her voice more frequently, especially in 5-star memories and events. Also, please give us the option to mute her voice if desired.

Add bond scene choices (accept/decline date offers from LIs) and more romantic poses for underrepresented LIs.

✦ CUSTOMIZATION & UI QUALITY OF LIFE

Allow MC’s custom avatar to appear in battle, story, and mini-games. Currently the black-haired default breaks immersion.

Include a feature to turn back time inside a memory scene.

Add more customization options: curly hair, more skin tones, eye/hair color wheel, voice toggle in cutscenes.

Add wardrobe lock for outfits and accessories.

Include more outfits and poses in the chocolate shop (especially past banner content).

Increase the MC’s memory/photo showcase limit on profile beyond 6.

✦ TECHNICAL IMPROVEMENTS & ACCESSIBILITY

Game storage size is getting too large. Please optimize file size and fix long loading times and lag since 3.0.

Please address bugs more consistently. Many issues are reported after major updates and go unacknowledged.

Increase daily stamina cap (standard + Aurum Pass), or allow catch-up collection for missed Aurum rewards.

Make missed event shop items (e.g., BGM, stickers) available during reruns for newer players. Bring back the special store events that accompanied previous reruns.

Add landscape mode during kindles.

Make the pause button and photo button available in the Spring Banner memories especially. MC’s phone overlay is blocking them.

Allow claiming past daily stamina / Aurum rewards retroactively.

Adjust the lighting in animated scenes to properly represent Black characters and people of color.

Utilize crit rate for probability of DMG than RNG. (e.g. 100% crit rate should crit all the time)

We want to be able to see our MC's face clearly

PC Version of the game, because it will just keep growing and take more storage space. (Include better graphics and landscape mode for PC)

Controller Support

Settings for reducing motion sickness

Communicate how much GB free space a new update is going to require.

✦ COMMUNITY & ENGAGEMENT

Add a Golden Saucer-style area (Final Fantasy) where we can enjoy fun, live events and minigame challenges with other players.

Introduce a pseudo-open world area with major key locations where players can run around as their MC, meet LIs or friends, and play mini-games together.

Start regular Q&A or dev notes to engage with player feedback more transparently.

Let us gift premium items (Aurum Pass, Heartfelt Promise) to friends.

Add options for player-to-player interaction: co-op mini-games, voice chat links, or room visits.

The pity seems to get harder, increase the probability of soft pity.

[zazozaliad]

ramble I keep saying I'd make about sunday wrt adoptee trauma

so this is the promised screed where I talk a little (a lot) on the way society treats adoptees, which Sunday and Robin are & which I think is uhh a detail we're kind of easily prepped by Orphans As Media Trope to not really dwell upon on a deeper level. and I get it. but star rail is in fact writing these two on a level where this is an extremely important detail of who they are as people, it's intrinsically part of how they TICK. they don't just have a Complicated Flock of Dad Situation, they don't just have religious trauma, they have the adopted child version of these things which is every normal part of it but also backwards on roller skates while someone calls you ungrateful for wanting to stop and fix your skates' laces when they start coming untied.

from my own admittedly limited perspective — I am one, but it was a kinship adoption; I thus recognize the limits in my point of view and also want to try and elevate the voice of other adoptees whose experiences of displacement were different than mine. for instance: here's a great article by mirah riben, that also comes full of links for further reading.

anyway. they're adopted. this is an extremely critical decision in the halo sibs' design, and going further into the narrative foils territory the Aventurine and Sunday similarities don't stop at 'Aventurine and Sunday both lost their home and parents.' There is a next step, and it is 'Aventurine and Sunday were both once trafficked children.'

Soooo let's get to it! Ahem. Adoption, as it exists in modern society, is a multi-billion dollar industry. it is not, in fact, a noble act of salvation, undertaken by adopter on behalf of adoptee. It is, in blunt distillation, an intentional act of putting a human being under another's care — or, "mercy," how about we call it? That's a great word, isn't it.

With them at his mercy, Gopher Wood treats Sunday and Robin, these 'twins of Order,' as his golden opportunity. He used power and influence to secure the chance to raise them, after the senseless disaster that uprooted their lives. This last bit is a fact neutral statement, by the way; even if he turned out to be the coolest flock of birds dad ever, he still plucked them up like they were some choice shinies left laying around. They perfectly suited his personal needs, so that's the whole reason he's in their lives, and that they're in his.

I'm framing this merest act of adoption in a highly uncomplimentary way for a reason. By the way, peep the bits of canon showing Robin and Sunday as really young children, and how they aren't explicitly being called 'Robin' and 'Sunday' there. But moving on!

Adoption, and not just the circumstances leading toward adoption, is traumatic. It doesn't always result in unresolved trauma, because different people have different levels of resiliency to different things; a stressor is a stressor, whether you tanked it well or not. It is a disconnect with, or even a destruction of a portion of one's personal identity. The places we are from, the way those before us lived, these are intrinsic parts of our selves an adoptee loses partial or full access to.

Star Rail is pretty decent at showing this, actually; we've met adoptees in every major area (even arguably Amphoreus, if we stretch for the case of Pasithea) and each and every time you can see how the experience complicates. Bronya discovers the bittersweet answer to that hollow in herself in front of us in real time. Yanqing is maybe one of the Softest depictions of this, and he is still a relentless workaholic who itches to show himself as worthwhile. Because that's the thing.

Because society frames adoption as benevolent sacrifice, there's that weight, always there, in the mind.

In truth, adoption is acquisition, the factual motion of a supply (of people. of a person) meeting a demand. You don't, actually, pledge to take care of a child on accident. That's not a real thing. A child adopter is, when we ignore all pretentious sentiment, a person enacting a desire to acquire a child.

Sunday, I think, is my favorite depiction of a Star Rail adoptee thus far. He continues to commodify himself into adulthood to the point we see him literally turn himself into a big craftwork of unfeeling metal and porcelain. But they specifically chose to Not make him unrelentingly gracious toward his 'rescuer,' a move that has given me terminal brainrot about him, irrevocably, forever! ...And actually, by the time we meet him, he's gotten kinda fuckin' bitey at his "father," while still carrying out his Big Plan? It's a fascinating thing to see and a breath of fresh air, because it would have been pretty easy to write him a different way, and may have even made him more 'sympathetic' by showing him as just being some poor misled soul waiting for a wake-up call in the form of a train to the face.

but instead we have who Sunday actually is.

Sunday is, in fact, well aware of the wrongness of his own lived experience getting exploited for the Oak Family Order Conspiracy's ends, but ….

...he still chooses to do what he does because sure. You can know. You can know it's all fucked up, you can have that conversation until everyone involved is blue in the face, but there is a version of reality you would prefer to be true and then there's the version of reality that you personally live in, and Sunday, if anything, is quite used to feeling like he's the person starkly forced into facing the latter, so much so, he thinks, okay. What if I could make it so that I was the only one who ever had to live that, from now on?

…

there are no easy answers to tragedy. The 'answer' Sunday has dedicated the majority of his life to is that if he could simply personally suffer enough, conform enough even through the bitterest moments, everything will become easier and more harmonious for the world at large. this belief propels him on through acts of great endurance, into doing some real mean shit, and also, into crafting a fake fantasy version of reality ("I am okay with this state of affairs") to push other people to live in because things will be more convenient that way.

This is, in fact, "the vibe," of being an adoptee, In The RL. It doesn't matter if you win the fucking lottery and get adopted by the sweetest person to ever live, the messaging of society at large is still gonna blare ever in your ear: you're so lucky. you should be grateful. aren't you grateful? why aren't you grateful? what's wrong with you? if you won't appreciate what you have, you should imagine what it's like if it gets taken away.

an adoptee doesn't have to imagine what its like to lose what they have, by the way. even if their adoption happened when they were an infant. and even as sunday tries to seize the mantle of becoming 'the strong,' to reforge himself into a guiding star, he speaks from the perspective of one who has been 'the weak.'

I do not have my fandom PhD in Robin studies yet so I don't feel like I can get as in depth here as I like, but also, the trauma of being an adoptee is where I feel that a lot of Robin's more implicit characterization comes from, and also where a lot of potential misunderstanding of her comes from, because people I think.. don't very easily relate to the adoptee perspective, and instead think of it like a more 'normal' (bunny ears) (massive. massive bunny ears) family dynamic where there isn't that particular sword over the head. I am extremely understanding of this! if you haven't lived it, it can be hard to grasp how bone deep it goes into you. in everything. every moment. every day.

but. uh. TO ME, there are so many moments she is saying "blink twice" to Sunday while being very careful to not potentially have him pull away, because she sees him as way more 'in deep' and indoctrinated than she is. I think Robin sees her brother for most of the plot and fears she's looking at a Grateful Adoptee(TM), and it is a brick wall between their ability to communicate earnestly with one another. have you seen the letter Sunday almost-but-didn't-send her by the way? ho-ho-holy shit. I need someone to write that canon divergence yesterday, but that's also me huffing copium over the idea that that letter would have ever made it off planet when people were canonically reading sunday's mail.

...by the way, I think it's really interesting that robin's activist work seems to be aimed to try and stabilize areas in need, rather than rescue people from those places. this, too, is a mark of someone who understands The Problem With Adoption, To Me,

uhh. I don't really know how to end this. I just really need people to think more about this specific angle of his character other than it just being a source of sadness in his background he has moved past because it's actually extremely formative of his Everything and also I stare into the darkness between stars when we talk about Welt signing adoption papers. It's fine. I'm not gonna come for you for saying that even if I try to remove it from my own vocabulary. But oh my God. Oh my God. Please commit to EXPLORING THE CONNOTATIONS I would love to see people make fanworks of him reckoning with the extremely mixed and difficult emotions that "Welt attempts to dad at him explicitly" would inspire.

ok... peace..... I've spent way too much time writing this when I am sick and should be resting....

[urbancripple]

To able‐bodied people, wheelchair users have a certain mystique. They’re constantly asking us about how our bodies do or don’t work, whether we can have sex, why we haven't just killed ourselves yet. But despite their intrusive questioning, there is one area that ableds seem to be absolutely certain about: the existence of ultra‐convenient readily‐available accessibility modifications and mobility aids.

As wheelchair users, how many times have we been told to “put some chains on that thing!” As we struggle through the snow? How often is it suggested that we get a hand‐bike so that we can cycle to work like our coworkers? If I had a nickel for every time someone suggested I attach some tried‐and‐true motor to my chair, I’d have enough money to pay someone to invent it.

People are constantly sending me links to articles and videos to supposed life‐changing mobility aids that can climb stairs or move over rough terrain. They tell me that things can’t be that difficult with a constant stream of new, convenient doo‐dads being put out in the world. Hell, when discussing how difficult it is to find a single‐story home in Seattle (existing or custom), the suggestion was made that I simply build a multi‐story home but also put an elevator in.

Here’s the thing though: has anyone, wheelchair‐user or otherwise, actually seen any of these so‐called solutions in person? The stair‐climbing wheelchair? The magical snow tires? The super fast motor? I haven’t. As for the elevators and hand bikes, I can count the number I’ve seen on one hand and I’d need way more fingers and toes to show you the price tag.

Despite their near non‐existence or insurmountable financial cost, people keep telling me I just need to “get me one of those…” and continue to cast my existence and the problems that come with it in a mythical light.

An elevator for your house starts at around six‐thousand dollars. If you want one that doesn’t look like the rickety stair‐lift at your local Eagle’s Club, it’ll cost you upwards of sixty‐thousand.

The price of an average, entry‐level bike is four‐hundred bucks. If you want an accessible hand bike, you’re going to start around a grand.

Custom wheelchair tires can vary anywhere from two to five thousand, often times costing more than the chair they’re attached to.

That stair climbing chair? Eleven grand. Want something that’s a little more “every day”? That’ll cost you seventeen grand. Just need a motor for your day chair? Six grand and it weighs fifteen pounds.

Now, some folks might be thinking “sure, it’s expensive now, but the price will come down as technology improves and more people buy these devices”. But with an employment rate of roughly 7 percent (before COVID) and rules governing the amount of money disabled people on SSI can have in the bank (no more than two-thousand dollars), most wheelchair users can’t even save up to buy one of these devices. And no, insurance won’t cover any it.

A lack of accessibility is not something we can just “tech” our way out of and disabled people should not expected to purchase access to a world that everyone else gets for free. Talking about mobility aids you’ve never used or seen when someone is trying to explain to you the barriers they face in their day to day life due to a lack of accessibility isn’t helpful, it’s dismissive. Quit doing it.

[dayntee]

[Fic Preview] A Veiled Heart

So, I missed Bellara week because I was SUPER busy adjusting to the life changes that come with a new job. My intention was to have finished the first chapter of what I've called my "bodice ripper" fanfiction in the past by the time we reached Day 7 for the Free For All.

That didn't happen. It's close, but not finished. Still, Bellara deserves to be celebrated, so I thought I'd drop the summary, fore word, and stage setting as a teaser and maybe to generate interest. As we know, all authors are fueled on positive reinforcement, so... uhh, lemme know if you like what you see!

Summary: Bellara Lutare wasn't ready for her adventure to be over. Lingering in the lonely halls of the Lighthouse after the final battle in Minrathous, she decides to use all the resources she has available to do what she does best:

Write smutty fanfiction.

A retelling of a Solavellan playthrough from Inquisition through Veilguard through the eyes of Bellara, and featuring snippets from the sources she's gathered for her mostly historically accurate account.

Rating: Explicit (eventually)

Length: Novel/Novella; multi-chapter longfic

Pairings: (primarily) Solas x Female Rogue Lavellan; (light) DavRook

Preview under the break.

*****

Never in my life did I think I’d have the honor of digging into as renown a Dalish hero’s history than that of Inquisitor Lavellan. Though we crossed paths only a few times and quite briefly, her journey was remarkable and brings modern prestige to our People among so many more unflattering tales.

My time as a member of the Veilguard allowed me privileged access to many of Lavellan’s former cohorts, advisers, and friends. While some knew her better or more intimately than others, there were always going to be gaps to fill. Having personally been present for her reunion with Solas (or Fen’Harel as the People know him), I may have taken a few creative liberties… but in the face of the passion and irrefutable love that passed between them in those few intense moments, who could blame me?

Before you accuse me of embellishing for sensationalism’s sake, may I remind the reader that I am not the first to expound upon this couple’s romantic entanglements. It is rumored that the Inquisitor herself provided the personal accounts used to write and illustrate the Randy Dowager Annual: Inquisition Exposed. I can’t presume to know the truth of those claims. What I have done in lieu of verified resources is compared details between their publication and the personal accounts I’ve received and carried over any corroborated content as a result.

That said, if you enjoyed that particular issue, you’re bound to enjoy this (slightly) more historically accurate read.

As one last word, on behalf of the Veilguard, an organization of heroes who’d never have come to know each other without him, I’d like to dedicate this work to the memory of Varric Tethras. While we never personally met, you were an inspiration in this work and my other literary pursuits. You’ve inspired so many as an author, a hero, a viscount, a leader, a mentor, and most importantly—a friend. The foundation of the Veilguard not only gave me purpose, but an even greater gift of a second family.

You are missed and will be forever remembered.

Bellara Lutare

*****

Bellara dropped her quill into its ink pot and stretched back, cracking her knuckles over her head. In the weeks following the events in Minrathous, the rest of the Veilguard had scattered to their own devices. Bellara, however, hadn’t yet felt ready to depart the Lighthouse. It had come to feel too much like home, and the weight of other choices awaiting her with the Veil Jumpers, especially regarding the archival of the Nadas Dirthalan, were too much to bear just yet.

She needed the distraction.

The decision to document this particular story was one she took more seriously than anyone might assume looking at the project at surface level. It was also largely an excuse to stay in the Lighthouse until she was done. In a way, it was her method of grieving the end of her own epic adventure. Events had unfolded so quickly in the past few months until they suddenly were over. Minrathous was being rebuilt, other members of the team had departed the Lighthouse for one reason or another, and Bellara… Bellara was left to her own devices with no particularly clear path forward.

She frowned. She hated not having a goal to work towards and was keenly aware that her writing was taking that role now. It was, perhaps, the wrong way to deal with her feelings. Really, it was a form of avoidance. But it was keeping her focused and busy and away from the emptiness in her chest at a sudden loss of purpose and drive.

“It’s… probably a good time for some tea,” she smiled apologetically to no one in particular; she was, after all, alone. Even Rook had left the Lighthouse about a week ago, wrapping up loose ends with the various groups and factions with which they’d forged alliances. The only company she found these days were the roaming wisps that still clung around Neve’s former office, the occasional Curiosity spirit checking in on the suddenly empty spaces, an awkward exchange with the Curator, and the Nadas Dirthalen itself… which was hardly welcome company and more often a source of frustration.

She grabbed the first annotated stack of parchment she’d acquired and made her way to the kitchen. Thankfully, Lucanis had made a point to stock the pantry well before his departure to Treviso, promising to return on occasion to ensure Bellara didn’t “fail to feed herself properly.” A smile tugged at her lips; his concern wasn’t unfounded, and even now, her stomach rumbled in protest as she realized breakfast was long past and she’d forgotten to prepare herself a lunch. Between the nebulousness of the Fade and her tendency to fixate, she was prone to losing track of time.

After putting together a plate of dried fruits and a few hearty slices of Feraldan cheese (why did the Lighthouse have so many wheels of cheese?), she kicked out one of the chairs in front of the hearth and began to rifle through her paperwork.

“Guess I should start where it all began,” she mumbled around a bite of dried pear, her eyes flitting over the official Inquisitorial Report of one Cassandra Pentaghast.

[kallie-den]

The Subordinate Ch. 1

Olive, a mousy, workaholic middle manager with a strained relationship hires her old college bully as an assistant - and soon finds herself slipping back the abusive power dynamic they once shared

An ongoing commission I've been working on! Fair warning, this is going to be a mean one. Expect NTR, findom, and degradation of all kinks. My thanks to Brendon for commissioning the story

If you like my writing, please consider supporting me on Patreon!  For less than the price of a cup of coffee each month, you can get immediate, early access to everything I write - 4 pieces of hypno-smut a  month, including the latest chapters of all the multi-chapter stories I write. Your support helps me keep writing and is greatly appreciated <3

---

She’s so tall. She’s so much taller than me.

It’s difficult to keep that thought from filling my gaze with unwelcome awe as I stare across at her. My bully. No, my former bully. I need to remind myself of that. It’s been years. Still, I have to fight to keep my eyes narrowed with disinterested contempt, and my voice nothing more than businesslike.

“Ms. Robinson,” I say, straightening my back, “what makes you think you’d be suitable for this position?”

Ivy smiles, and her smile goes right through me. I have too many memories of being victim to that smile.

“Ms. Robinson?” she drawls. “C’mon, Olive. Is that really necessary?”

I twitch. “This is a job interview. Let’s keep things professional.”

Ivy shrugs. “Sure.”

I pause, waiting for her to answer. My patience breaks first. “Well? What makes you think you’d be suitable?”

“I think you’ll find I’m more than qualified,” comes her smooth reply.

She’s not wrong. It’s all on her résumé. For an entry-level position like this, she’s an outstanding candidate. When I was scanning through the stack of applications, that jumped out to me almost as much as her name did. Once I double-checked that it was actually her, I considered throwing her application straight into the trash. But I didn’t. I had to see her. Didn’t I?

She’s in really good shape. Way better shape than me. I bet she works out a lot.

“It’s about more than just educational background,” I retort, pushing down on that thought. “We take our work ethic very seriously here. You might be expected to work some long hours.”

Long, long hours. I can feel the heavy, gray bags hanging under my eyes. None of those on Ivy. She’s immaculate, as ever. Tonight will be another late one. I’ll have to tell Luna I won’t be home for dinner. She won’t like that, although I’m sure she’s getting used to it.

Maybe I should try harder to work less overtime. But…

“No problem,” Ivy assures me. “I work hard. You have my references?”

I do, and they’re all utterly hagiographic. Frankly, looking at it on paper, I have no reason to pass Ivy over. Looking at it otherwise, I have every reason. Christ, it’d be an HR disaster waiting to happen.

Her breasts. She’s so busty. So much bustier than me. How’s that fair? How does that even make sense? Isn’t she trans?

I push out my chest. “Well, you’d need to be a team player too. You’d be-“ I hesitate. “Ivy, you’d be working under me. For me. You get that, right?”

“Of course.” She’s unruffled.

“You understand that you’ll be my subordinate?”

For the briefest of moments, something glints in her eye. Something that frightens me. It passes. “Oh, yes. I understand perfectly.”

“And you’re… really OK with that?” I ask.

It’s difficult to believe. All through college, she took vindictive pride in having me wrapped around her little finger. I still remember how easily I fell for her. She offered me her hand in friendship whilst the clique of hyenas she kept around her barely hid their snickers. I was too stupid to realize what was going on. Too socially inept, as always, and too lonely. Too desperate for company.

Before I knew it, I was writing her assignments for her. She didn’t need that  - she’s smart - but she loved that I would. When she was tired after a soccer match, she’d make me rub her feet. And most of all, she’d make me buy things for her. All her meals, drinks at the bar, new clothes… whatever she wanted. Even drugs, I think. She’s always been into that scene.

I could have stopped whenever I wanted, I guess. But not really. I wasn’t strong enough, and we both knew it. She was in my head, completely and utterly. All my buttons were hers to push. I was intoxicated with Ivy Robinson. Probably, if you’d asked, I would have called her my best friend. Even as she took me to the brink of ruin.

God, I still remember that phone call I made back home, to my parents, asking for a little more allowance. Trying to laugh, trying to play off all my spending casually. Telling them I’d been going out a lot. Socializing. Enjoying myself. Overdoing it a bit. My folks didn’t question it too much. If I had to guess, I’d say they were just grateful their quiet, sheltered, weird, nerdy little girl was having a good time in college, not keeping herself cooped up alone like I always had in high school. They were inclined to be indulgent, but that didn’t mean my heart wasn’t pounding like crazy for the entire call.

Then, after our class graduated from college, it was all just over. Like it was a nightmare I was waking up from. I don’t think my heart has ever pounded like that since. Not even with my girlfriend.

Until here. Until now.

What do I look like, to her? I’m still so small everywhere. So mousy. I’m not athletic like her. Do I look just like I used to? Can she see how much I’ve grown? Can she?

“Why wouldn’t I be OK with that?” she’s asking me. She’s smiling.

What am I supposed to say? “We have some… personal history,” I settle on eventually.

She knew she was taking advantage of me. She always knew. I have no doubt about that.

But Ivy just shrugs. “Water under the bridge,” she replies easily. “I mean, unless you’re not OK with it.”

My heartbeat quickens even more. It’s an offhand comment, but I hear in it something more. A challenge: can I handle her?

Of course I can. All of that was ten years ago now. I’m a grown woman. I have a senior position here. I’m in charge.

“Don’t be silly,” I tell her, and smile. I feel good about being able to say it like that.

“Great!” Ivy beams back at me. “Do you have any more questions for me?”

“I don’t think so,” I reply, checking my notes. “Do you have any questions for us?”

She dials the job-winning smile up another notch. “Just one: when can I start?”

She’s so pretty. God, she’s so pretty. So much prettier than me.

“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves,” I say stiffly. “There are many other candidates under consideration.”

But none of them are going to stick in my mind like Ivy does. I definitely shouldn’t hire her; that goes without saying. It’s just that there’s genuinely nobody more qualified, and that means if I don’t, I won’t be able to shake the feeling that it was because I’m afraid of her.

I’m not, I tell myself. That would be ridiculous. I know that, but I need to make sure Ivy knows it too.

Anyway, maybe I can take pleasure in it. In having her under my thumb for a change. Bossing her around. Treating her like shit. Making her fetch me coffee. Making her days long and miserable.

Yeah. That doesn’t sound too bad at all. It’s kind of embarrassing how good it sounds, actually. The thought fills me with a girlish thrill I haven’t known since college.

I stand up and offer Ivy my hand. “Well, in any case, you’ll hear from us soon.”

She nods, rises, smiles politely, and takes my hand. And as we shake, she has this look in her eyes like she already knows what I’ve decided.

***

It’s little surprise to me when, after just a few weeks, Ivy is the office darling. The queen bee. She’s still an assistant, nominally, but you wouldn’t think it from the way they all treat her. None of it challenges professional boundaries, of course. It’s simply that they like her, and they want her to like them.

How could they not? Ivy’s so striking. She’s tall, and the contrast between her dark skin and her platinum-bleached hair makes a statement of her confidence. And she dresses so well - never flashy, just magnificently stylish, in clothes that make little secret of her perfectly-maintained body. It makes me embarrassed of the way I dress each morning, grabbing one of my rote outfits from the closet as I hastily brush my mid-length, plain, brown hair into some semblance of neatness.

Her presence and her popularity itch at me. I was never outgoing in the first place, but now, more and more, I find myself retreating to my little corner office. When the door’s shut, nobody disturbs me. One of the privileges of being a manager. It’s like my little fortress. While I’m in here, I don’t have to think about Ivy. I don’t have to think about the contrast between us; about how damn boring my life is, while she’s chattering about weekend plans, or about how nobody looks adoringly at me the way they do at her. All I have to do in here is work.

And work. And work, and work, and work. More than ever. The company keeps asking for overtime - it’s a crunch period - and I say ‘yes’ more often than ‘no’, even though Luna wishes I wouldn’t. I’ve always been like this, a little. Working is one of the few things in life I’m truly good at. It’s nice to feel like I have a place. A purpose. An identity. Finding the right balance with that has always been a struggle, but Ivy being here has made it worse. I’m not exactly sure why. It’s not career ambition. I think maybe I’m trying to show her up, in a way. Prove I’m more hard-working. Come in earlier, stay later. Impress her with my dedication.

Not a good way to try and show her up, obviously. Out of sight in my office, behind a door. Just the only way I’ve got.

Anyway, it’s not all bad. There are small pleasures to having Ivy Robinson working as an assistant in my office. She’s polite. Deferential, even. She has to be. When I ask her to do things, I get to hear her say ‘Yes, Ms. Barnes’ in that coffee-smooth voice of hers, and it sends shivers down my spine. It makes me fantasize. And there’s such a thrill to the little ritual that plays out each morning, when she knocks at my door and waits to be told to enter so she can set down my coffee on my desk. That’s always the moment I’m glad I hired her. Ivy Robinson, my subordinate.

There’s that HR disaster waiting to happen.

We don’t talk much, outside of functional little work exchanges. It makes sense; I’m no conversationalist. Not until one evening, when she cracks open my door to tell me she’s going home. She catches me at the worst time, mid-phone call to my girlfriend.

“Again? Olive, you said you were almost done with this…”

“I know, I know. We were… are. Just… not quite yet.”

“They work you too hard, I swear.” A little laugh, mostly to conceal the fact that it’s not ‘them’ she’s unhappy with.

“Sorry, Luna,” I offer eventually.

“It’s OK. You… gotta do what you gotta do, right?”

“Yeah.”

“We should really do something romantic soon. Something intimate. It’s… it’s been a while.” It sounds like more of an ultimatum than she means it to. “I miss you.”

“We will,” I offer quickly. “Promise. I miss you too. All this will be over soon. I’m just… well, it’s a busy time of year.”

“Right.” Another pause. “Well, take care, OK?”

“You too.” I hesitate. “Bye.”

“Bye.”

She hangs up. I sigh - and then see who’s standing in my doorway. I freeze. I wonder how much she overheard. 

“I was just about to head home,” Ivy says, entirely professionally. “Working late again, Ms. Barnes?”

“Yeah,” I reply, and end up yawning my way through the word, embarrassingly.

“Oh no.” Ivy frowns. “You work too hard, Olive.”

I’m instantly suspicious, but she sounds so genuine in her sympathy. It seduces me. “I know, I know. I really do.”

“Everyone’s always talking about it.” Now it’s more than an exchange. It’s a conversation. Ivy takes a step into my office. Into my territory. “You’re the most dedicated worker here!”

My heart skips a beat. Is that respect I hear in her voice? Is Ivy Robinson impressed with me? I dare to hope. “Well, I… the higher-ups are depending on me. You know how it is.”

“Of course.” Ivy carefully closes the door behind her. “It’s what I expected, when I started working here! I remember you telling me about that. I was pretty surprised when it turned out to be just another email job.”

I frown. “What do you mean?”

“Oh, I just mean… sure, they always put out those calls for overtime,” Ivy says casually, stepping over toward my desk. “But it’s not like they’re compulsory. Hardly anyone takes them up, except you.”

“Maybe everybody else should start considering it,” I tell her tersely.

“Point taken,” she admits with a laugh. “It just makes me wonder why, you know?”

“I’m a team player, Ivy. A hard worker.” I fold my arms. I can’t resist taking a jab. “Maybe that’s why you’re out there on the floor, and I’m in here with the nice office.”

It doesn’t seem to land. Ivy ignores it. “A hard worker,” she mulls. “A team player. Yeah. Absolutely. Takes me back to college. All those long nights you spent out in the library.”

Doing Ivy’s assignments. That part remains unsaid. I start trembling. It’s been ten years, but suddenly it doesn’t feel like it at all.

“Is this import-“

I start to rebuke her, but then she perches on the edge of my desk, and in doing so, knocks over my stationary. Shifts a few papers, too. She lets out a little ‘oops’, but the look on her face says it’s no big deal.

But it is. At once, it starts to itch at me. My desk is painstakingly arranged. Every paper, every pen, every computer peripheral in its place. It’s how I like it. How I need it. And now it’s all wrong. Everything scattered and strewn. Pencils rolling haphazardly around.

It’s no big deal - not to her, and I wish it wasn’t to me either. I’m instantly upset by the unfairness of it. Why does it have to throw me off this bad?

“Honestly,” Ivy drawls, “it’s like you can’t help yourself! You’re not saving up for something big, are you?”

“No,” I blurt out in reply, before I can stop myself indulging her. Her presence is overbearing. Perched on my desk, she looms over me.

An apology is on the tip of my tongue. Why? Why do I want to say sorry? What would I even be apologizing for? For… myself?

“Didn’t think so,” she says. Her amusement is plain. “Wild. It made sense back then. I mean, it’s not like you had anything else to make time for, right? But now you have a girlfriend waiting for you at home. That’s a little sad, Olive.”

“This… this is inappropriate,” I tell her quietly, just barely managing to keep my voice measured. Even saying that is a gargantuan effort. Ivy’s attention is so potent. I can’t quite hate it, even when it’s too much, and her slight but palpable mockery is all it takes to make my head spin.

“I didn’t mean it like that!” Ivy laughs and holds up her hands. “Don’t get me wrong, I’m grateful! Thanks to you pulling these crazy hours, the rest of us get to go home nice and early. You’re doing me a favor.”

“I am?” I squeak. “R-right.”

I didn’t think about it like that. But now I certainly am, and I know instantly I won’t be able to think of it any other way. Why did she have to put it like that? Why did she have to ruin it all for me?

Oh no. It’s happening again, isn’t it? It’s just like before. Nothing’s changed.

“Which, I mean, again, just like college,” Ivy remarks. She smiles. I twitch. I’m trying to marshal my thoughts, but it’s so hard. “Hey, why don’t we go out again sometime? It’ll be like old times. You clearly need to blow off some steam. Maybe spend some of all this overtime pay on some drinks and-“

“Ms. Robinson!” I yell abruptly, bolting to my feet. Ivy looks startled. I’m startled too; I didn’t mean to get angry like this. “This is inappropriate!”

I was this close to saying ‘yes’ to her. That’s what spurred me into action. That old instinct is rusty, perhaps, but it’s still there, oh yes, and everything Ivy said was helping to grease it up. I couldn’t take another word out of her. I’d break.

But that would be unbearable. It would make me the worst, irrecoverably. I’d never be able to forgive myself, and all the anger I’ve ever felt toward Ivy Robinson rose like a tide to save me.

Watching Ivy jump up and flinch back is like a red rag to a bull. I have to give everything not to let it all flow out of me. Everything I’ve been bottling up all these years. That little hint of fear in her face is the ultimate intoxicant. The only way I can keep control is by promising myself that there’s still more satisfaction to be found in holding the high ground.

“I am your superior,” I tell her sternly. I’ll make her listen. “You are my subordinate. I suggest you take that under consideration when you decide how to speak to me.”

“Woah.” Ivy throws up her hands. There’s still a kind of smirk on her face. I want to wipe it off. “It’s just a little reminiscing, that’s all! I didn’t mean anything by-“

“Enough!” I snap. “Yes, Ivy, you did. We both know it. Well, guess what? This isn’t college anymore. Grow up. I have.”

There’s a sudden, terrible darkening of Ivy’s face. It cuts through my anger. I’ve seen that look before. It’s the one she gets whenever she hears ‘no’.

“Be careful, Olive,” Ivy warns, her voice low, silky. “Why don’t you lower your voice? You wouldn’t want anyone to overhear us, would you?”

She’s wrong. I don’t care. Let them all hear. I want them to hear this bully getting put in her place. “That’s Ms. Barnes to you, Ivy. And if I have to remind you again, you’ll be looking for another job.”

Ivy stares daggers at me. I’m terrible with eye contact, but just this once, I push myself to my limit. I stare back at her, even though it makes me twitch a little.

When she blinks, I feel like a god.

“Of course.” Ivy nods her head submissively. “I’m sorry, Ms. Barnes.”

I want to smile and cheer and rub it in her face. Instead, I just keep staring. “Now get out.”

With that, I’m treated to the sight of the tall, busty, muscular, beautiful Ivy Robinson turning her back and fleeing out of my office. I can all but see the tail between her legs. Once she closes the door behind her, like she knows I want, the smile comes to my face. No, more than just a smile. A giddy, stupid, girlish grin I don’t think I’ve ever felt before. My hands are shaking up and down, overcome with the energy of the moment. I can’t stand still.

I did it. I beat her. I won.

Nothing could be more vindicating. Suddenly every single decision that led me here feels like the thread of destiny. It’s perfect. All of it.

And its glow keeps me warm even as I sit back down, fix my desk, and prepare myself for the long, lonely night ahead.

By the next morning, the glow has faded and curdled into trepidation. I have to see Ivy again. My rattled nerves tell me that she’ll have found some way to rally herself. To turn the tables once more, in the little psychological war between us. I’m far from best prepared for it. In the end, I crawled home for barely six hours of meager sleep. I barely got to speak to Luna.

When Ivy does make her appearance - not early, but certainly not late - my fears are banished. She’s dressed a touch more modestly than usual - black slacks, a plain blouse that buttons up very high - and she knocks on my door so meekly I don’t realize it’s her at first.

“Good morning, Ms. Barnes,” she says politely. “Your morning coffee.”

“Thank you.”

My eyes widen slightly as she sets it carefully down on the corner of my desk. It’s not the usual stuff from the shitty machine in the break room. I don’t recognize the cup, but the aroma tells me that it’s good. Pricey, I have to imagine.

“I thought you deserved something a bit nicer than instant,” Ivy says in answer to my questioning look. “Since you’ve been working so hard.”

Nothing on earth could keep my face from lighting up. At once, I get it: this is a peace offering. No, better. It’s tribute. She wants to get on my good side.

And why shouldn’t she? I’m Ivy’s boss. I gave her this job, and I can take it away. She’s in the palm of my hand. My hand. After all this time. Fuck, it feels better than I’d ever imagined.

Ivy’s watching me expectantly, and I don’t even mind that she’s seeing me with such a stupid, goofy grin on my face. Like I’m a kid opening her birthday presents while all her friends have to sit at the table and watch. Her watching is fine by me. I want to savor the moment, and I want her to marinate in it. So, I reach for the cup and drink. I hope Ivy will look relieved when she sees I’m enjoying it.

The flavor is wrong. It doesn’t match the aroma. The coffee is pleasant, but chasing on its heels is an aftertaste that’s faintly but unpleasantly chemical. Some kind of artificial sweetener? There’s no way it’s deliberate. If Ivy Robinson is lowering herself to bringing me a shitty cup of coffee as petty revenge, I’ve won by even more than I’d thought. Maybe it’s an acquired taste. In any case, it’s not that bad, and I really do need the caffeine. I drink more.

“How do you like it?” Ivy asks after a moment.

“It’s good,” I reply at first, reflexively, but the chemical taste is sticking in my mouth. I frown. Maybe I should just send her to get something from the machine. “It’s a bit…”

I look down at the cup and see two of them.

Two… cups?

No.

Double vision?

Why does it take me so long to think of that?

I’m so slow.

But then Ivy steps up to my desk, and she’s not slow at all. She’s quick and pretty and tall, taller than ever, and strong, and I can’t tell if there’s two of her, or five, or a dozen, or a hundred.

“Drink up, Olive,” she instructs.

And I do. I don’t want to, but I do. Ivy’s command is a weight on my back, one so much greater than I can bear. I sink to it. I bring the cup to my lips, slowly and clumsily, and slurp more of the coffee.

“Why does it taste like that?” I ask absently.

Why did I ask something so stupid?

There are a dozen more pressing questions I should be asking, but when I reach out for one, it slips through my fingers. Only the dull chemical taste in my mouth remains.

Stupid.

All the same, I look blearily up at Ivy for an explanation.

“Because it’s drugged,” Ivy tells me. “I put something in it on the way here. Something I got from a friend of a friend. I don’t think it has a street name yet. But it’s very strong.”

It’s… strong?

No, wait.

That’s not the important part.

But it’s so hard to tell, when everyone she’s saying is twinned too.

Echoing itself. Layering. Obliterating all sense.

“D… drugged?” I manage. The words ooze from my mouth.

I say them before I even remember what that means.

“Yeah.” Ivy is standing right next to me now. Above me. I look up, and the ceiling light behind her head forms a halo. It hurts to look at. “More specifically, you’re being put in a nice, calm, suggestible state. People have been using this to relax, but I have my own ideas about the kind of fun we can have with it.”

“Fun…” I echo dumbly. “R-relax?”

I smile, at first. That sounds nice.

Then I pull Ivy’s words apart, and the rest catches up with me.

“Sug… suggestible?” It takes two tries. The first time, my mouth ends up mangling the word. It’s like I’m drunk.

“That’s right. You know what that means, don’t you?” Condescension drips like overflowing venom from Ivy’s perfect lips. Yesterday, that would have made me angry. Today, it just makes me feel small. “It’s like… it’s like your mind is the kind of foam that holds its shape perfectly when you press into it. You know?”

Like… foam? I’m like foam?

I shake my head. Analogies are beyond me now.

Why? Why am I so stupid?

It must be the coffee. The drug.

That’s right. I’m drugged. Ivy drugged me. I almost forgot.

She laughs at my plight. “Don’t worry about it,” she says. That’s all it takes to quiet my mind. I can’t go against her. “You’ll see, soon enough. See, we need to have a little chat, Olive.”

I’m drugged. That thought is finally starting to stick.

That’s bad, right?

Out of the corner of my eye, I can see the door. It’s closed. Ivy must have closed it.

Is anyone coming to help me?

No. No way.

I could call out. Couldn’t I?

No. I can’t muster the will.

“I did a lot of thinking after I went home last night,” Ivy explains. Her voice isn’t loud, but it feels loud. Inside my head, it’s a cavernous, deafening sound. “About what we were talking about, Olive. Until you cut me off. That was very rude of you. Very rude.”

She says that with singular emphasis - and it hits me like a wave.

Rude. Very rude.

I cringe at myself as that conviction takes form.

I was rude. I shouldn’t be rude.

My wet lips shiver as they strain to form an apology. Ivy’s curl upwards. She can see the effect she’s having on me.

“All I was really getting at was: where’s the fun in your life, Olive?” Ivy asks. “The joy? The spark? When I took this job, I was curious to see how you’d turned out. But what’s there to see? You overwork yourself, day after day, in here, at this boring office job. You barely talk to anyone. You have a girlfriend at home that you barely see. I’d have guessed a lot of things for you, but not that you’d wind up this pathetic.”

I cringe and shrink back. Not from her words; no, when she speaks quickly like that, it’s all just meaningless sound.

I shrink from her tone. That serrated contempt that bites deep into me. I have no defense against it. My ego has been broken open. Ivy is pouring into it.

Her last word, though. That resounds.

Pathetic.

I whimper. Pathetic. It’s what I am.

“At first, I was confused,” Ivy goes on. “What makes you live like this, Olive? What makes you tick? But then I figured it out.”

I’m gasping like a fish.

She figured it out.

Figured… what?

Me?

Suddenly, it’s like I’m barely here. Like I have no substance at all. Ivy can see right through me.

“Oh, don’t look so scared,” Ivy admonishes. “I’m gonna help you out. We’re old friends, right? And that’s just what friends do.”

Friends. Yes.

I relax. We’re friends.

And she’ll… help? That’s so kind.

I soften. I exhale. The part of me that would normally see how insincere Ivy is has been smothered by her drug. Instead, I’m filled with naive, childlike gratitude.

Oh. That’s right. I’ve been drugged. She drugged me. I almost forgot.

“Thank you, Ivy,” I sigh fondly.

She laughs a little at that. “First things first,” Ivy says, fixing her gaze on me. “Let’s get something very important straight: I am superior to you, Olive.”

Her pronouncement is slow. Deliberate. She’s letting me drink in every word. Letting me absorb their meaning. Stew in their tremendous force.

Superior?

I feel it. Right away. Superior. Inferior. Just look at us. Look at her. So pretty, so tall, so strong. It’s only natural.

It certainly comes naturally to me.

“Y-you’re…” I babble. “S-superior?”

Ivy repeats it. Her words are like nails into my skull. “I am superior to you.”

Superior.

What does that mean?

It’s like something someone would say as a joke. But Ivy isn’t joking. And since she’s so completely and utterly sincere, my mind starts grappling with the task of absorbing her words as my new truth.

Superior. It’s such a big word. So encapsulating. My mind starts to race with the implications.

It’s one thing for someone to be better than you at something, or higher up in the company, or something like that. But superior? That’s something greater. It transcends any particulars. She is simply superior, and I am simply inferior. That’s a fixed point in our lives now. A guiding star. Something I can always look to. Something I can always know.

That way of thinking comes so easily for me. It’s not just the drug. It’s the fact that it’s just like riding a bicycle. It’s an old groove, easy to find once more, despite all the intervening years.

Superior. Inferior.

But then I learn that I’m not defenseless. Not quite. There it is again. That anger. It might not be enough to throw off the drug, but it proves to be enough to pierce the soporific veil it’s put over me. At least for a moment.

I can’t go back to that. To being inferior. I can’t.

“N-no,” I bleat. “I’m n-not.”

Ivy raises an eyebrow. “You’re not? Not what?”

“Not…” my voice trembles. Fighting her is so hard. “N-not inferior.”

Ivy laughs again, this time incredulously. Like my defiance impresses her. But she refuses me even a moment of indulgence.

“Olive,” she sings, “look at me, babe.”

I can’t resist two thoughts at once, so I look right at her, as close as I dare. Long practice has taught me how to fix my gaze just below someone’s eyes, sparing me direct contact.

“No, no, no,” Ivy chides. “Look at me. Properly.”

All of a sudden, her hand is on my chin. She grips it mercilessly. Her strength feels infinite as, between that and her words, she compels me to look directly into her eyes.

I start twitching. I’m not good with this. I’m really not good with this. And she knows it.

“You see?” Ivy coos, and her words are as soft as silk, threads pulling tight around me. “You can’t even look me in the eye. Can you?”

I can’t.

She relaxes her grip enough to let me shake my head. Maybe she makes me shake it. I can’t tell.

“Can’t even look a woman like me in the eye,” Ivy mocks. “How can you say you’re not inferior?”

How can I?

I…

Can’t. The words won’t come.

Her simple, brute demonstration has crushed whatever flickering spark of resistance had briefly flared. I could summon it again, but then I’d have to keep looking. I can’t handle that. It’s already unbearable. Her eyes are too sharp. They pierce me too deep.

“You can’t,” Ivy tells me. It’s a fact. More true than ever, now that it’s passed her lips. “Say it.”

“I can’t,” I repeat dully.

She rolls her eyes. “Not that, idiot. That I’m superior.”

“Oh.” My head spins briefly as I reel from my mistake. I’m an idiot. “You’re superior.”

She’s superior.

Instantly, it’s worse

Ivy was already taller, but now she towers over me. She was already hotter and stronger, but now she’s a goddess. The light behind her head was already bright; now it’s blinding, and it’s inside her, in her eyes and pouring out of her mouth as she speaks.

I’m lost to it.

“And…” she prompts, waiting for me to make the connection, before she realizes I’m way too fucked up for that. “You’re inferior.”

I nod. Even I can figure that out.

“I’m inferior,” I echo.

I am. It’s true.

I’m inferior.

Within an instant, that’s etched into every fiber of my being. Only, wasn’t it already? Wasn’t it always? When Ivy tells me that, it’s like connecting the last bit of a circuit. The Christmas tree inside me is lighting up.

Yes. I’m inferior.

And it’s so… comfortable.

How many times have I said that to myself over the years, inside my head or at the mirror? But now it’s more real than ever. Now there’s no doubt about it.

I’m inferior.

I’m inferior to Ivy Robinson.

She’s the one who puts me in my place.

“I’m taller,” Ivy pronounces slowly. Heavily. Letting each quality sink in. “Stronger. Hotter. Smarter. More confident. More sociable. More competent. More dominant. Superior.”

They build and build. My eyes widen, even though it hurts. They’re full of awe.

Stronger. Hotter. Smarter. Superior.

“Yes,” I whimper, because what else can do I for such a superior woman but agree? “Yes.”

“I’m so glad you get it.” Ivy releases me and turns away. Finally, I can breathe a little easier. Facing her is like being in the eye of the storm. I blink my eyes, grateful - pathetically grateful - for the respite. “Because that’s the key, really. To everything about you.”

That’s the key?

What is?

I don’t understand. It must be because I’m so inferior.

So stupid.

But that’s OK. I know Ivy will enlighten me.

“It’s like…” she pauses, considering, surely, how best to dumb down the concept for someone like me. “It’s like how, at a sports game, there are players and there are spectators. Both of them are having fun, but only players get to do. Spectators just get to watch. That’s you, Olive. You’re a spectator.”

Naturally, I nod. My mind is like the desert soil. Cracked, dry, parched. Eager to drink deep of whatever it’s fed. I absorb it all.

A spectator.

I just get to watch.

That’s right. That makes sense. I’m inferior, after all.

It hurts too, of course. What Ivy tells me digs into a wound that, in a way, has always been open. Since college, since high school, since before. But that doesn’t mean I’m resisting. My resistance has already been broken.

“That’s how you were in college, after all,” Ivy goes on. “My little spectator. Always watching. Always hanging on. Living vicariously, through me - because that’s simply the best you can do. That was exactly where you belonged.”

Exactly where I belonged.

I’m caught up in the terrible flow of her words now. It’s getting easier to follow, as my fragile self-esteem buckles and bends to Ivy’s will.

It’s where I belonged. Her spectator.

The notion feels so poisonously right. Didn’t I always enjoy it, a little? Ivy bullied me, yes, but there was a certain pleasure in being her hanger-on. I loved the little kiss of glamor it gave me. Made me seem progressive, too. And like there was more to me than just being some bookish, anti-social nerd.

I can’t tell if that’s the drug talking, or just me.

But if it wasn’t true before, it is now. My memories are already softening in their haste to conform to Ivy’s decrees. In my mind’s eye, those college days are already turning rosy and warm as a sickly kind of comfort colors them.

Yes, it was a shame that I couldn’t be a player. Couldn’t be like Ivy.

But at least she let me watch.

It’s where I belonged.

“Poor thing.” The faux-sympathy in Ivy’s voice makes me feel smaller still. “You’ve been lost without me, haven’t you? But don’t worry. I’m here now. I’ll give you something to latch on to.”

To latch on to.

It makes sense. That’s just what I need. A spectator like me. I need to live through Ivy.

I’m so grateful.

“I’m going to help you enjoy life,” Ivy drawls. Her face twists gleefully. “But I’m going to do it by taking away everything you have. Everything you’re too pathetic to enjoy properly by yourself. And you’re going to thank me for it.”

“Thank you,” I whisper at once.

Of course I’ll thank her.

I’d do anything for Ivy. My thanks are the least I have to give.

There’s a pit in my stomach, put there by insult piled atop insult, but a growing sense of anticipation takes the edge off the pain. I can’t wait for what Ivy’s going to do.

“Let me see.” Ivy glances around my office. She’s wondering where to start. “I wonder how many nights you spend in here. Working hard, when you could be doing anything else instead - if you weren’t such a loser. It sounds miserable. But I guess you must have a little fun when nobody else is watching, right?”

I must?

I frown, confused. I want to say yes, to please her, but my sluggish mind can’t grasp what she’s referring to.

“Oh, you know.” Ivy laughs at my baffled look. “I can just picture you sitting behind your desk, late at night, hand shoved down your boring panties.”

Shoved down my panties?

What does that mean?

Once it hits me, I blush deep. I really do want to agree with her, but telling the truth to my superior seems more important.

“N-no!” I pant. “I… never… I couldn’t!”

Ivy snorts mockingly. “Guess a private office is wasted on you, then. Time to start, Olive. Right now.”

"W-what?”

My blush deepens as I’m stained through with shame at the very thought, but that doesn’t stop my hand from twitching downward, guided by Ivy’s command. She is utterly in control of me.

“Go on,” Ivy urges. “Do it. Touch yourself.”

The way she looks at me is at once lurid and dispassionate. It’s the way you’d stare at a particularly interesting bug before you swat it away. Those eyes leave me no room to squirm out of this. Already, my hands are fumbling clumsily with the hem of my pants.

But it doesn’t make sense.

There’s something missing.

“But…” I’m not so much protesting as questioning. “But, what…”

That’s it. I’m not aroused. That’s why this is so strange.

Ivy senses it at once. And she grins at me as she says: “Just look at me.”

It’s simultaneously a command and an explanation. She wants me to look at her, and so I do. But my chemically-shattered brain takes it another way.

Look at her.

Ivy is pretty. Hot. Tall. Strong. Superior.

No wonder I’m touching myself.

Now the arousal comes. I find that I’m wet and desperately sensitive. It’s been a long time since I’ve had any gratification in that department. Longer than I’d care to admit. Sex just isn’t a big part of my life. I’ve never had much of a sex drive.

But I sure do now.

Within moments, I’m frantically rubbing at myself, letting out choked gasps of pleasure as my back arches. Maybe it’s the drug. Maybe that’s why this is so intense.

Or maybe it’s just her.

I’m looking at Ivy the way I’ve never looked at another woman before, with the shameless, rabid gaze of a pervert. My bulging, bloodshot eyes flick back and forth across her body, seeking out details to make the object of my lust.

Her tits. Her waist. Her ass. Her face, her lips, her tongue. Her legs. Even her height, her strength, her makeup. All of it dazzles me. All of it arouses me like nothing ever has. I can feel the rabid heat Ivy’s inflicted on me dumbing me down. Making my thoughts lewd and coarse. Warping me to fit her shape.

“See?” Ivy says casually. “This is what I do to you.”

This is what she does to me.

That makes sense, doesn’t it? She’s so superior to me. Every part of her I look at isn’t just a source of arousal. It’s a point of comparison. And everywhere, I come up short.

It’s a double-edged sword. But the gnawing insecurity just spurs me on.

This is right. This is how I belong. A spectator. Inferior.

“Yeah.” Ivy sighs fondly. Pleased with her handiwork. “This is so you, Olive. Locked up in your office, getting yourself off under your desk, while everyone else is out having fun. I bet you do it all the time.”

I don’t - but I do now. Her words make it a part of my being.

I nod furiously.

“You know, there’s something else about this drug I should probably mention,” Ivy adds. “It makes it very, very easy to form psychological connections. To make sure your wires get crossed, so to speak. Especially when there’s a source of pleasure involved.”

Now that I’m busy fucking myself stupid, it takes me even longer to process that. Once I do, I realize the danger. I should stop. Right now.

I can’t.

She hasn’t told me to stop.

It feels too good.

“I’m actually priming you for it just by telling you that,” Ivy throws out. “And with that in mind, since we’ve established that you can’t get any real use out of all that overtime pay you’re earning, let’s give you a new way to enjoy it.”

Ivy reaches for my phone, set down on my desk. She holds it up to my face, letting the recognition software unlock it. She starts scrolling through apps. She finds what she’s looking for. She’s tapping the screen. Typing.

I don’t stop her. I don’t even consider it. This is my place. Watching. A woman like Ivy can do whatever she wants.

“Here.” After a moment, Ivy shows me my phone with a flourish. “This is what you’re going to do.”

It takes a long moment for my eyes to focus on the screen, especially with my fingers still in my cunt. Once they do, I see that it’s my payment app and that Ivy has set up a transaction from my account to hers. To send her my money.

And the sum is eye-watering. In the hundreds.

Disobeying Ivy is unthinkable, but going through with this is just as impossible to conceive of. How many hours of hard, boring, thankless work does that sum of money represent? Admittedly, it’s not set aside for anything in particular, but seeing my bank balance grow and grow has always been a source of satisfaction. It’s made it all make sense - all my hard work, all the overtime.

If I just give it to Ivy, just because she tells me to, then what was it all for?

“Don’t worry,” she promises. “I’ll spend it better than you could.”

I shiver.

That’s right. She’ll spend it better.

She’s superior.

“And this is just the first installment,” Ivy adds. “You’re going to start putting in even more overtime from now on.” She licks her lips. “Go ahead. Press it.”

The app needs my touch to authenticate the transaction. My fingerprint. A security measure. My free hand is already reaching out, helpless to fight Ivy’s superior will.

My other hand is, of course, still buried between my legs. Any protests I might hope to make, any questions I might hope to ask, all of them dissolve into pathetic moaning. The yawning anxiety I feel about giving Ivy all my money melds with my arousal, becoming something greater than either individual emotion. Something sharp-edged that bites deep into my psyche, making my heart pound and pump me full of adrenaline. Something that fills me with a thrill I haven’t known since college.

To my drug-addled mind, it’s confirmation.

Ivy, my new god, is in her heaven. All is right with the world.

And so I smile as I reach out and press my quivering fingertip to the touchscreen.

In an instant, the transaction is done. It cannot be undone. All that money, gone. Given. Tributed.

To her. To Ivy.

My stomach drops. I feel like I’m in freefall. The pleasure has never been greater. My fingers are furious as they plunge in and out of my cunt. When I look at Ivy, I see stars.

Ivy checks the phone screen and grins. I can already see that this isn’t satisfaction, for her. It’s not the end. This is just the beginning. Then she looks at me and spits the command that seals my fate, searing my newly-formed fetish for financial domination into my every brain cell.

“Cum.”

—

I would like to express my gratitude for the generosity of all those who support me on Patreon, and to give a special thanks to the following patrons in particular for their exceptional support:

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Special thanks to Brendon for commissioning this story

[techav]

On Incremental Improvement:

With VCF Southwest almost here, and having run into a dead end on getting NetBSD running on my 68030 homebrew computer, Wrap030, I decided to circle back to my multi-user BASIC kernel. There are some important features the system is needing to get it ready for running as an exhibit for all three days of the show.

Memory Protection

There's a fun couple fairly standard BASIC commands, PEEK and POKE. The former will read a byte of memory from a specified address, and the latter will write a byte. These were commonly used in the 8-bit era to manipulate hardware registers. For instance, POKE 53280,1 on the Commodore 64 would set the screen frame color to white by writing 1 to the address 53280.

While there were ways to cause problems by writing bad values to the wrong address, on a single-user home computer the impact was only to the one user. On a multi-user system however, PEEK could be used maliciously to look at private data from other users. An errant POKE command could overwrite user data, kernel data, even code being run by users.

A good multi-user system needs some way to prevent one user from accessing memory used by another user, and to prevent users from overwriting shared code. The Motorola 68030 has a couple tools to solve this problem: separate supervisor & user states, and a built-in Memory Management Unit (MMU).

The supervisor state has access to all instructions and registers in the CPU. The user state is blocked from running certain instructions that would change system state or CPU configuration. I was already using supervisor state for my kernel and user state for BASIC programs, but it doesn't prevent users from accessing memory that doesn't belong to them.

That's what the the MMU is for.

The MMU takes the memory address the CPU is outputting (the Logical Address) and uses a table to remap it to a new address (the Physical Address). That table can hold additional information about how a particular region of memory can be used, and can be configured by the kernel at any time.

So we can, for instance, set up the table to mark the program code for BASIC as read-only when the CPU is in the user state. Or remap the memory allocated to each user so that it always starts at logical address zero. In fact, there's also nothing that requires the entirety of physical memory to be mapped — so as far as one user program is concerned, the other users' memory doesn't even exist.

Adding MMU support to my Multibasic kernel has been a goal from the beginning. It's a challenge though. The 68k MMU is a very capable, very complex beast. It supports tables that are up to four levels deep, supports page sizes from 256B to 32kB, and can use separate data and code tables for both supervisor and user states. It's something I've struggled to understand, but my work with NetBSD helped show me how to use it.

I decided to use 32kB pages and only map the 16MB of actual RAM I have installed. This allowed me to use a single-level table with 512 entries. During startup, the kernel initializes the supervisor table and a table for each user. When switching users, only the Root Pointer register in the MMU needs to be updated point to that user's table.

I was able to get the table initialization running after a few rewrites. And then realized I had forgotten to update the user initialization routines to point to their new logical addresses. And I was using the wrong table entry marker for the user tables, so the MMU was expecting more table entries instead of reading page descriptors. This got me to the point of the kernel running with the MMU enabled and I could even run a user program or two in BASIC, but if I tried to run three user programs, things got ... weird.

Overlapping exceptions is never a good sign. Or, it usually isn't. In this case I was trying to print out some debugging data for exceptions which takes a relatively long time. Longer than my timer interrupt, in fact … I had forgotten to disable the timer at the start of an exception handler. My timer was doing exactly what it was supposed to, I just needed to stop it when handling exceptions. That fixed the overlapping exceptions, but I still couldn't run more than two programs at a time.

This one had me stuck for a while, but I finally decided to review the NetBSD source to see what I was doing differently. All of my initialization and task switching code looked similar; there was just one thing that stood out to me as being different — NetBSD was clearing CPU cache on task switch and I wasn't. The 68030 doesn't have a large cache, surely that's not the probl…

It was the CPU cache.

Once I added the single instruction to clear cache when switching users, everything ran smoothly no matter how many programs I ran.

Loading from Disk

Having to enter programs by hand each time you want to run one is no fun. It's tedious and error-prone. Sure, it was common four decades ago for books and magazines to publish listings of BASIC programs. But after taking the time to carefully enter in hundreds of lines of code, most people are going to want to save the program to disk so it can be quickly reloaded later.

In my case, I would like to have a few demos, games, and interactive programs available for my exhibit. I do not want to have to type them in by hand every morning. It's time I finally sit down and figure out how to add file loading to EhBASIC.

The EASy68k applications page has a link to an archive of EhBASIC that supports the EASy68k simulator's I/O traps. This was the perfect starting point. All I needed was to add new system calls to my kernel for similar file open, read, and close operations, then update the EhBASIC file handling routines to use them.

I started by copying the Elm-Chan FAT filesystem library I had used for my bootloader into my kernel. It's a great minimal C library for FAT-formatted disks that doesn't take much to get up and running. I was able to write wrapper functions for its f_open(), f_read(), and f_close() functions that worked with my existing system call format.

This went surprisingly well. I found that EhBASIC was trying to re-open the file after each line, so I did have to update my code to keep track of whether it had reached the end of the file yet. That got me to the point where it would read the entire program and echo it to the terminal, but it couldn't run anything. It turns out EhBASIC was using address refused A0 for a line pointer; gcc C convention treats A0 as a scratch register that doesn't normally need to be saved. I just had to be sure to save the register contents to memory before calling the filesystem library functions.

Finally, I can load programs from disk instead of having to type them in manually every time!

Printing Disk Contents

It would be really helpful to be able to see what programs are on the disk. Loading a program requires entering the LOAD command followed by the filename. That's hard to do without knowing what programs are available.

Luckily, the Elm-Chan FatFs library also has functions for reading directory contents. I just needed to add three new system calls for the directory counterparts to the previous file operations.

EhBASIC didn't already have a command for printing directory contents though, I would have to add one. I wrote the function and was able to use the built-in CALL command to run it by the compiled address of the function, but CALL $100178 is not the easiest to remember.

I tried adding a new command, CAT (short for Catalog, a common directory listing command for early BASIC systems), to the command tables. All it would give me was a Syntax Error, however. I eventually stumbled onto the answer for this one — when parsing a line of code, EhBASIC will check if the token for a given keyword is greater or less than the token for the TAB keyword. Keywords less than TAB are treated as commands that can be executed at the beginning of a line; keywords greater than TAB must follow another statement such as PRINT. All I needed to do was move my new CAT command above TAB in the table.

On Incremental Improvement

These three new features go a long way towards making the system something robust enough and usable enough that I feel good about running it as an interactive exhibit for VCFSW this year.

But more than that, these new features bring my little Multibasic kernel just that much closer to a "proper" operating system — it is now a preemptive multiuser kernel with hardware memory protection and the ability to load programs from disk.

It currently does not support saving files to disk (intentionally omitted for now), doesn't support dynamic memory allocation, and can't run any processes other than the eight instances of BASIC. But it is starting to look the part. And I am definitely proud of the work that I have managed to do on this project.

If you would like to see Wrap030 running Multibasic in person, I will be exhibiting it June 20-22, 2025 at VCF Southwest in Richardson, Texas. This will be the third annual VCFSW since it was rebooted after a decade-long hiatus, and the third year in a row that I have had the opportunity to exhibit and volunteer for the show. This year is bigger than ever with over 90 exhibitors & vendors and a full schedule of workshops, talks, & presentations. If you're in the area, I highly recommend attending!

[xxun-punxx]

i think dess is the knight, but for a reason i havent seen anyone else suggest

long post ahead! may be very rambly and kind of hard to read at times since i have difficulty articulating my thoughts. so warning ahead if you have trouble reading word salad. tldr: dess is trying to get home

so ive been watching a lot of deltarune theory videos recently. with the incoming chapter 3 and 4 release ahead i wanted to re-familiarize myself with a lot of the fandom discussion surrounding the games themes and meta-narrative. this means ive also been eating a heaping helping of knight theory videos. i was always a long-time believer in multi-knight theory, that the act of becoming a knight could be adopted by anyone. over time, i started to wonder about a couple of things about the functionality of light and dark worlds and how that could relate to the identity of the knight. ive heard some VERY interesting theories out there about who it could be, but ive always found that these theories struggle with one question--

HOW

how was the knight able to make the chapter 1 fountain without being caught by anyone in the school? how was the knight able to make the chapter 2 fountain while noelle and berdly were in the computer lab? how, how, how. i think the assumption this entire time has been that these fountains NEED to be made in the light world in order to access the dark world. what is undeniable is that a lightner is necessary in order to make one, as seen with Queen in chapter 2. as a reminder, the only reason why she sought out noelle was for her to be able to make one. i say this because i feel like there's one major aspect of the game that we all just kind of... gloss over????? and its a one-off bit that happens at the end of chapter 2 which prompts ralsei to explain the negative impact of fountain creation.

we all remember this, right? berdly almost makes another dark fountain. another dark fountain... in a dark world. he's already in the dark world. and yet he's able to almost make another dark fountain. like i said i feel like we all collectively GLOSSED over this scene way too quickly and its only now that im realizing the implications of this.

lightners are not only able to make dark fountains in the light world, but in the dark world as well.

again, this is played off as a bit, but immediately afterward ralsei literally yells at him to stop because this is DANGEROUS. like. world-ending levels of dangerous as too many dark fountains means that the titans could emerge and the roaring would occur levels of dangerous.

this doesn't imply that creating a dark fountain in a dark world would cause the roaring, rather that its the assumed consequence of too many dark fountains

however, im getting off track here. what primarily needs to be focused on is this--

Lightners are the only ones capable of creating Fountains.

Creation of a Fountain can be done in both the Light World AND the Dark World.

Fountains create bridges between the Light World AND the Dark World.

With that in mind, let me actually get to what I wanted to talk about-- I think that December Holiday is the Knight.

"but pun!!" you may be saying, "dess is missing remember????"

yes. i do remember. which is why i think she's the knight. we know that through flavor text and general world-building that something happened TO dess. its very unlikely that she died and instead went missing prior to the events of the game. we know this because of Noelle's search history results as revealed in chapter 2 with the calendar marked with December 25th (December Holiday). if she WAS dead, why would she be looking her up? moreover, Spamton Sweepstakes makes a very clear connection between Dess and the phrase "FIND HER". this implies that Dess can't be dead, but what exactly happened to her? while there isn't a lot of concrete proof as to what happened to Dess, what we do know is that this is an event which haunts the narrative of deltarune. so many of the characters, particularly between the dreemurs and the holidays, were forever changed by her disappearance.

One very popular theory surrounding Dess' disappearance has to do with the Bunker. as we all know, the weird ambient noise that plays when you're near the bunker is a slowed down version of the garbage noise related to Gaster. this theory is supported by elements such as the goner code, a string of unused text which displays the dialogue of an unseen character.

There's a reason why this is so damning. the mentions of this person being somewhere that is "dark" and "quiet" has led many people to assume that Dess is in some kind of Gaster-y dimension similar to a Dark World. i'd say that this is furthered by some similar dialogue spoken by Spamton during one of his interaction options in his shop when selecting "FEAR".

"But it sounded like they were talking to you"? I don't think its a coincidence that this might be a continuation of that goner code possibly leaking into the game. plus, its not unfounded to think that Spamton would KNOW about Dess considering that the page with the guitar was found on the Spamton Sweepstakes website (and i swear another thing about not being able to "find her data" in reference to someone asking him where dess was but i cant find this for the life of me).

so like. where am i taking all of this connection between the goner code and gaster and dess? and how does this relate to her being the knight? dw gang this is when everything starts to come together.

Most of this theory relies on the idea of the "Dess wandered into the Gaster zone from the Bunker" consensus that i mentioned earlier. moreover, im also applying the theorized idea of the Depths, a place in which all darkness originates from. (the idea for that comes from here: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kZvsFCYuL2w)

Let's say that she DID go missing in such a way that she would end up in the Depths or some place Gaster-adjacent. as much as everyone back up in Light World is looking for her, i don't think its impossible to assume that Dess is trying to find her own way back. you would too if you inexplicably went missing, right? plus, Dess doesn't seem like the type of character who would wait for someone to find her or even fall under the "damsel in distress" trope, not with how Noelle and everyone else talks about her being so protective of Noelle. she seems very self-assured and capable, which means that not even she would just sit around waiting for someone to save her.

What if Dess is opening Fountains from the Depths/a Dark World/somewhere in order to find her way home?

As stated earlier, it is 100% possible to make a Fountain while IN the Dark World itself. while we don't know what the implications of this is, and as stupid as it sounds, could it be possible to make a Dark-Dark World? A connection to a world that is perhaps... dark, darker, yet darker? to create a Fountain is to create a connection between the Light World AND the Dark World. what if, by making a Fountain in a Dark World, you make a connection between both worlds AND the Depths/a Dark-Dark World/wherever Gaster is/wherever Dess is? it would help to explain a lot of the issues of "How" that i mentioned way earlier surrounding Deltarune theories. the Fountain in chapter 1 was made by her. the Fountain in the computer lab was also made by her, which explains how a Fountain was able to appear at all despite Berdly and Noelle being in there. so many people are working with this idea that Fountain creation is purely exclusive to the Light World and, as such, the Knight has to be someone in Hometown.

obviously, knowing what Kris does at the end of chapter 2, the is an inherent implication of there being multiple knights. however, i think the rest of the game's Fountains will be a direct consequence of Berdly's actions at the end of chapter 2.

Dess is making Fountains in order to find a way home. Berdly learns how to make Fountains and, by extension, everyone else who was there for it. It's how Kris learns how to make Fountains, which inevitably means that someone else from the main cast will TRY to make a Fountain as well. or, even more concerning, try to do what Berdly couldn't-- make a Fountain while IN a Dark World. at some point, someone from the main cast will try and use the Fountains as a way to find Dess.

that likely being Noelle.

but i feel thats enough speculation. i would be interested to see if this is an idea that other people have had. ik this is kinda a bad time to be making deltarune theories considering that chap 3 and 4 come out in like a couple of weeks but its better to get all my thoughts out NOW rather than later. ofc, i also want to acknowledge that this theory probably has a lot of holes in it and doesn't explain things such as the shit Seam says about the Knight. i didnt really think of the little details, mostly just the conclusion of all this.

let me know what you all think! sory for any misspellings that may be present

[sheydmade]

Home Protection in Folk Magic: Charms, Wards, & Work to Magically Protect One's Home

by Keziah

As times get harder, many more are turning to magical customs to find security and protection. In my piece Protection Work in Folk Magic: Herbs, Spells, & Charms for Protecting Yourself & Others, I focused on taking magical protection with you wherever you needed it, but there was nothing at all written about the protection of one's home and property. This piece focuses on just that, including accessible and affordable (even free) means of magical protection that any practitioner (from beginner to a true veteran) can utilize.

Evil spirits, malicious magic, unwanted company, and even the presence of law and immigration enforcement — magical protection of the home is incredibly versatile and accessible. Now more than ever, we're in need of as much help as we can get, so I hope that there's something in this piece that can bring you and yours even the slightest peace of mind.

Note: This piece focuses largely on the folk magic with which I am most familiar with. I'm from the Southern US and have studied folk traditions within the South, Appalachia, Britain, and Europe. You'll see some overlap amongst these customs, as many Southern traditions were birthed from British practices. There is also a sprinkling of Jewish custom mentioned within this piece, as I happen to be a Jewish person. I write that which I'm familiar with, and, as a Southern of mixed race (Black and white) who happens to be Jewish, this is the world of folk magic I felt comfortable writing about. While this piece is meant as an exploration and resource, please be respectful of the sources of these magical works. If that particular work is not relevant to you based on your practice or if it belongs to a closed tradition (such as a Jewish custom or a practice found within certain schools of hoodoo), please respect that and see the alternative recommendations.

Against Spirits & Evil

Southern Folk Prayers:

In Southern folk customs, prayers and Bible verses are abundant in magical workings, especially when it comes to protection work. One custom calls for the recitation of prayers/verses to rid one's home of an unwanted spirit.

What you'll do:

Open all the doors and windows in your home, ensuring the spirit has plenty of options of places to leave through.

Starting at the back of the house (and from the uppermost level if you live in a multi-story home), work your way from the back of the house toward the front (do this on each level if applicable).

Whilst walking, recite a prayer or Bible verse used to ward off spirits. Where I'm from, the Our Father/the Lord's Prayer is most commonly used, and, as I recently learned after spotting it in 'Doctoring the Devil', Psalm 31:15-17 can also be used. As a Jewish practitioner of magic in the South, I've opted for Psalm 91, which has been known to be used against spirits.

Our Father/the Lord's Prayer —

Our Father, who art in Heaven, hallowed be thy name; Thy kingdom come; Thy will be done on Earth, as it is in Heaven; Give us this day our daily bread, and forgive us our trespasses as we forgive those that trespass against us; And lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil; For thine is the kingdom, the power, and the glory, Forever and ever. Amen.

Psalm 31:15-17 —

My times are in thy hand: deliver me from the hand of mine enemies, and from them that persecute me. Make thy face to shine upon thy servant: save me for thy mercies' sake. Let me not be ashamed, O Lord; for I have called upon thee: let the wicked be ashamed, and let them be silent in the grave.

*Alternatively, one can simply chant or recite that last line — and let them be silent in the grave — whilst performing this work.

Psalm 91 —

1 He who dwells in the covert of the Most High will lodge in the shadow of the Almighty. 2 I shall say that Adonai is my shelter and my fortress, my g-d in whom I trust. 3 For Adonai will save you from the snare that traps from the devastating pestilence. 4 With (his/her/their) wing (he/she/they) will cover you, and under (his/their/her) wings you will take refuge; (his/her/their) truth is a comforting shield. 5 You shall not fear the terror of night nor the arrow that flies by day; 6 Pestilence that prowls in darkness nor destruction that ravages at noon. 7 A thousand will be stationed at your side, ten thousand at your right hand; but it will not approach you. 8 You will but gaze with your eyes and see the annihilation of the wicked. 9 For when you said, 'the Lord is my refuge,' you made the Most High your dwelling. 10 No harm shall befall you, nor shall plague draw near your tent. 11 For Adonai will command angels on your behalf to guard you always. 12 On your hands they will bear you, lest your foot stumble on a stone. 13 On a lion and a cobra you will tread, trampling the lion and the serpent. 14 For he yearns for Me and I shall answer him; I shall fortify him, for he knows My name. 15 He will call Me and I shall answer him; I am with him in distress; I shall rescue him and I shall honor him. 16 With length of days I shall satiate him, and I shall show him My salvation.

Crib & Nursery Protection:

As children are, in many traditions, seen as being more susceptible to the influence of spirits, many magical traditions have special protective customs aimed specifically at the young ones. One such protective custom comes from Southern Appalachia.

What you'll need:

Iron nails

What to do:

Drive an iron nail into the bottom of the foot of a crib or into a crib post. Alternatively, iron nails can be driven into the corners of the door and window frames. This is believed to protect the child(ren) from spirits of all ilk, not only ghosts.

For those who favor plants over nails, there's an alternative method of nursery protection —

What you'll need: (any combination of the following herbs)

Chamomile

Yarrow

Basil

St. John's Wart

What you'll do:

Hang a bunch of chamomile, yarrow, and lavender from the doorpost or at the window in the nursery. Plants can be dried or fresh. All three are believed to have protective powers and to also bring peace to an area.

Basil can be used in any room (hanging from windows and doors) to keep spirits away.

Salt the Doors, Sweep the Floors:

From Southern conjure to Jewish folk magic, salt being used as a means of protection across countless traditions and magical paths.

What you'll need:

Salt

Water (optional)

What you'll do:

Where to place the salt and how to use it varies from traditions to traditions.

In Jewish custom, salt is lined at the doors of the home, a protective barrier against evil. The salt can also be kept in clothes, closets, under beds, etc. as a means of a magical protection. This practice is also found in Southern folk magic in the US, in British folk magic, and in European folk magic.

In the Southern US, salt is a common ingredient in sweeps — a method of magical cleansing that can be used to bring protection, luck, financial stability, and such. Salt, used with other ingredients (these vary depending on the purpose of one's sweep), is scattered across the floors of the home (working from the back of the house toward the front, from the top of the house toward the bottom) and then swept from the home (again, in that same pattern of back to front, top to bottom). For protection work, you'll find that salt is commonly used alongside rosemary, basil, cinnamon, cloves, and high john the conqueror.

Another custom that can also be found in some forms of European folk magic and Jewish folk practice is the use of saltwater instead of just salt. The saltwater is sprinkled at the threshold of the home, or sprayed upon the doors and windows.

Haint Blue:

'A small white house with a blue door' (via Oleksii Piekhov)

In the Southern United States, one custom of home protection comes in the form of a hue of a paint. Haint blue doors, porch floors, or porch ceilings are used to ward off spirits. The blue color is believed to confuse the spirits, who mistake it for water, as it's a common belief in the South that spirits can't cross moving water. My own door is painted a lovely haint blue and I can't praise its effectiveness enough.

Bells:

In many folk traditions, it's believed that bells warn of the presence of evil and that their ringing or chiming wards off evil spirits and entities of all kinds.

What you'll need:

Bells (these can be of any size, can be small bells tied to a cord or kept in a bag, can be bells on a wind chime, can be a single bell)

Cord, string, or twine (optional)

A small bag (optional)

What to do:

Hang bells on or near your front door. They'll ring when evil is near your home, warning you of its presence. Their singing will also work to ward off evil.

The bells can be little jingle bells on a string or in a small bag. You can tie your bells to yarn and hang the strand beside the door. I keep mine on my doorknob. You can also mount just one bell beside your door. This is a very versatile method of magical protection, so change it however you like to fit your needs and style.

Garlic Charms:

Garlic is a go-to tool for protection in many magical practices, and in Cornish cunning ways garlic can be used to protect one 'against the influence of people and spirits with vampiric and envious tendencies.' -Gemma Gary, folk-magical practitioner and author, in her work 'Traditional Witchcraft: A Cornish Book of Ways'

What you'll need:

Whole garlic bulbs

Red ribbons

(optional) Bells

What to do:

Whole garlic bulbs should be tied with red ribbons and hung on, above, or beside doorframes and/or window frames.

Bells can also be added to this charm for extra oomph.

Hagstone Charms:

Hagstones, also called adder stones, serpent’s eggs, fairy stones, and witch stones, are stones which bear a naturally occurring hole caused by erosion or some other natural event. Hagstones have been used as protective amulets for long while in traditional folk magic of Britain. Hagstones can be used to protect from a number of things - general protection overall, as well as protection from spirits of various ilk, protection from harm on the sea, protection of livestock and farmlands, protection from nightmares, and more. Here, we'll look at how to use them to protect one's home.

What you’ll need:

Hagstone (one or more)

Thread, cord, or twine.

What to do:

Pass your thread, cord, or twine through the hole of the hagstone. You can knot the thread beforehand for added protection as a form of knot magic. Knots are believed to strengthen protective work, as they can confuse or distract spirits.

You can add as many hagstones as you like. One is plenty, but I’ve seen charms with as many as nine stones.

Hang your hagstone charm within your home or on your porch to protect the space from spirits and evil. One of mine hangs from a nail in my doorframe at the front of my home.

Against Law Enforcement

Dirt Dust:

This is a regional variation of a work used in the Southern US known throughout Kentucky, Tennessee, North Carolina, and Virgina.

What you'll need:

Dirt from near a police station Use any combination of the following ingredients along with the police station dirt —

Black pepper

Black mustard seeds

Brick dust

Coal dust

Dirt from an anthill

Dirt from a church yard (can be used in any work to ward off or get rid of unwanted persons)

Dirt from a graveyard

Red pepper flakes

Salt

Seeds of caraway

Seeds of lemon

Seeds of pawpaw

What you'll do:

To help keep police away from your home, mix the dirt, black pepper, and mustard seeds together. Dust the threshold of your home with it and sprinkle it at the outer corners of your home.

Some customs call for the recitation of Bible verses (welcome to the South, y'all; there are Bible verses in basically every kind of magic down here) whilst sprinkling this mixture. If that's up your alley, here are some verses that can be used for various purposes —

-Psalm 35:1 (for protection against any law enforcement)

Plead my cause, O Lord, with them that strive with me: fight against them that fight against me.

-Psalm 35:4-6 (for protection against any law and immigration enforcement)

Let them be confounded and put to shame that seek after my soul: let them be turned back and brought to confusion that devise my hurt. Let them be as chaff before the wind: and let the angel of the Lord chase them. Let their way be dark and slippery: and let the angel of the Lord persecute them.

-Psalm 44:7 (for protection against police, immigration enforcement, and those who would bring such trouble down on your home):

But thou hast saved us from our enemies, and hast put them to shame that hated us.

Sator Squares:

As featured in my piece Protection Work in Folk Magic: Herbs, Spells, & Charms for Protecting Yourself & Others, the Sator Square/Rotas Square is a versatile protective tool that can be used to many ends, including to keep unwanted people away from your home (and, yes, we're going to use it here to keep away immigration or law officers).

The Sator Square / Rotas-Sator Square is a palindromic word square used as a magical charm or amulet. It’s been around for quite some time (with the oldest known square possibly being from as early as AD 50) and has been found to have been used historically throughout Europe, Africa, Asia Minor, and the Americas. As to its origins and intended purpose, no one knows for sure, but the Sator Square has come to have a number of magical uses, including as a tool for curing ailments, aiding in childbirth, putting out fires, and, in fitting with the theme of this piece, in protection magic.

Medieval Sator Square etched into a wall; Oppède-le-Vieux, France.

There are many variations of Sator Squares / Rotas-Sator Squares, but the most common forms consist of five rows of five words, each with five letters, arranged in a 5x5 grid. The Rotas-Sator Square (in which rotas is the word listed first, pictured below on the left) was the more common in pre-medieval use, but the Sator Square (in which sator is listed first, pictured below on the right) became far more prevalently used than the Rotas-Sator variation at some point in medieval Europe.

Rotas-Sator Square (left) and Sator Square (right).

In Appalachian and some Southern folk practices within the United States, one can use a Sator Square for protection. To do so for one's home simply write the square onto a paper or cloth or carve the square into wood/etch it into clay and mount the square somewhere within the home — above the mantle, near the front door, above a window. It's said to repel unwanted company of all sorts, as well as offer various protections.

Corncob Charm:

In Kentucky and Tennessee (and perhaps other regions of the US), it's said that one can use dried corn cobs to deter police from coming onto one's property.

What you'll need:

A dried corncob

Nail (if hanging)

Yarn/string (if hanging, preferably red or black)

What to do:

One can either hand a dried corncob (usually from a string, which is sometimes braided) on their doorpost or one can bury a dried corncob at each of the four corners of their home.

Penny Charm:

Penny charms to discourage the attention or presence of law enforcement aren't at all uncommon in the South.

What you'll need:

4 or 9 pennies (some customs specify 'Indian Head Pennies') / (different customs call for different amounts; see below for more information)

What you'll do:

Some variations of this charm call for placing the pennies in a row underneath your doormat. Some call for nailing or gluing the pennies above your front door. Some call for burying the pennies at the property of your boundary or at the front gate.

As to whether one should use 4 or 9 pennies, it depends. Where I'm from, I'd always been told that 9 were used, but in some other Southern regions, the custom is 4 pennies, and in Jake Richards' 'Doctoring the Devil' it's specified that 4 pennies are used unless the house in question is home to illegal undertakings or business, in which case, 9 pennies are preferred.

There has also been a shift as to whether it's necessary to acquire Indian Head Cents or not. Traditionally, the Indian Head Cent was used (at least in Tennessee, Kentucky, and Virginia), but I've seen this work done with regular pennies as well. Nowadays, the Indian Head Cent is harder to come by and buying them just for this work can cost quite a lot. If it's more accessible for one to use regular pennies, then know that you're not the first and won't be the last to do so.

Against Intruders

Garlic:

Yes, garlic has made a second appearance! What can I say? She's a powerful little ally.

Garlic is used for protection across countless countries and customs. This particular method of protection against intruders and unwanted company can be found in English folk traditions, various forms of folk magic in the Southern United States, Jewish folk magic, and several branches of European folk practices.

What you'll need:

Garlic strands, bulbs, or braids (dried or fresh)

What you'll do:

Hang garlic at your door. This can be outside of your home or inside and is usually done from the woodwork around the door but can also be done near the door or on a porch rail. In some English variations, the garlic is hung from the mantle or above the fireplace or near a kitchen window.

'A bunch of garlic hanging from a ceiling.' (via Orestis Christodoulou); 'A pile of dried grass.' (via Maxim Tolchinskiy)

Dust & Dirt:

In Louisiana's branch of conjure and hoodoo, it's said that one can keep intruders away from their property with simple methods and few ingredients.

What you'll need:

Goofer dust (also called gopher dust/gopher's dust/goofer's dust) *there are various ways of making goofer dust and it depends on where you source yours as to what exactly it will consist of

Alternatively, if you cannot acquire goofer dust, one can use graveyard dirt on its own or combined with any of the following ingredients —

Ash

Salt

Coal dust

Iron shavings/iron dust

Brick dust

Eggshell powder

What you'll do:

Simply spread the dust either around the boundaries of your property or (if you haven't the ingredients to spare or would like to limit how much you're putting out due to the presence of animals or wildlife you don't wish to expose to any of the ingredients) at the boundary of your gate, your doors, or your porch.

Against Witchcraft

Horseshoe Charm:

What you'll need:

A horseshoe (used)

Tinfoil (optional)

Nails

What you'll do:

Hanging a horseshoe over the front door or the main entrance to one's home is believed to both secure luck within the household and protect against malicious magic sent to the home or to any member of the household. Iron horseshoes are believed to work best, and some practices within Kentucky, Tennessee, and Virginia also call for wrapping or dressing the horseshoe in tinfoil before hanging it about the door.

SOURCES & FURTHER READING

'Backwoods Witchcraft: Conjure & Folk Magic from Appalachia' - Richards, Jake

’Conjure/Doctors: An Exploration of a Black Discourse in America, Antebellum to 1940’ by Brown, David H.

’Cunningham’s Encyclopedia of Magical Herbs’ -Cunningham, Scott

'Divination, Magic, & Healing: the Book of Jewish Folklor' - Isaacs, Ronald H.

'Doctoring the Devil: Notebooks of an Appalachian Conjure Man' - Richards, Jake

Jewish Magic and Superstition: A Study in Folk Religion’ - Trachtenberg, Joshua

'Lowcountry Voodoo A-to-Z' - Marsh, Carole

'the Master Book of Herbalism’- Beyerl, Paul

’On the Origin of the Rotas Sator Square’ - Fishwick, Duncan

'Silent as the Trees: Devonshire Witchcraft, Folklore, & Magic' - Gary, Gemma

'Southern Cunning: Folkloric Witchcraft in the American South' - Oberon, Aaron

'Sticks, Stones, Roots, & Bones: Hoodoo, Mojo, & Conjuring with Herbs' - Bird, Stephanie Rose

’the Voodoo Hoodoo Spellbook’ -Alvarado, Denise

'Traditional Witchcraft: A Cornish Book of Ways' - Gary, Gemma

[lookismaddict]

Kouji + Reader (Sister) Headcannons

A/N: This is a familial relationship between you and Kouji. Don't be weird about it lol.

Kouji can be a mean brother who teases his sister a lot, but he tries not to overdo it

He's recognized as the genius kid of the family, and he would point that out to you as if that were obvious. But, he also tries not to do it often and he doesn't want you to feel insecure about it since he still cares about you.

Kouji is super protective over you, especially whenever you use his computer at home

One day, you were curious, wondering why he’s always so addicted to using his PC (computer in the day, computer at night) so you decide to snoop through his computer when you got home from school before him

While passing through his login on his computer, you look through his desktop on his computer and you find normal files relating to school, gaming applications, and… a spreadsheet document that’s titled “Money Log”, which you don’t find too suspicious. (He’s just a teen who wants to properly organize his money. How is that suspicious? 🤔)

Nothing seems to catch your eye, so you decided to look deeper by going through his history of accessed documents, files, and software installations

You noticed a software installation called “VPN” and a folder that says “Private” on there. But, his private folder was locked and it was under password authorization

While you were still trying to figure out his password, Kouji would catch you right when he came home from school and ask you what you were doing on his computer with a stern face, trying to hide his nervousness. However, when you cut him off and asked about how you so happened to find a “Private” folder on his PC, he immediately admitted that it was p*rn for you to shut up about it. (Is he really telling the truth though? You can't tell.)

Obviously, Kouji can also be secretive towards his sister, but also wary of what he does online and at home whenever you decide to crash and hang out in his room

The both of you would often play PC games together like horror games like "Welcome to the Game" (totally up his alley), Minecraft, Roblox, Valorant, etc. He usually does the game controls for you, while you sit there with him and watch him do all of the work. But, if you ask him if he can take control of the gameplay, he lets you but he teases you by saying, "You suck at this." which then leads to a never-ending banter between you two.

However, you don't just play PC games together, but also multi-player mobile games like Genshin Impact (he doesn't want to admit to you that this is his favorite game), Among Us (yes on mobile), and Stardew Valley.

Whenever you guys are bored together, you'd go on weird websites like Omegle or Chatroulette. Often times, he'd try and hack the other person on the other side of the screen ("just for fun" he says) and you had to scold him and try to convince him not to do it for the sake of the poor person on the other side. Most of the time, he just ignores you and just does it anyway. He justifies his own actions as some sort of necessary justice by pointing out, "See? These people are sick, just look at them! Nasty old geezers..."

You noticed how he's a Discord addict who's a part of a bunch of servers online with various aliases. He's a Discord mod for many servers, whether those servers serve as a purpose for gaming and hacking communities. But most of the servers he's on, he mostly hacks into them to troll people online through phishing links and sends random files in group chats that are actually malicious.

You have a strong feeling that he occupies his time doing something more than just trolling online users and playing video games. Since he's so good at hacking and online security, you have to admit that your brother is a technical genius. If that's the case, then you would assume that his hacking capabilities might exceed more than just surface web level. Even if that possibility might lean towards him exploring the Dark Web. (He's your brother. Of course, he would.)

Sometimes whenever he would take a break from using his computer all day doing God knows what, he would join you on the couch and watch a horror movie or a game show

While watching that movie/game show, he would criticize the show or movie by saying, “They are so dumb. I mean, why can’t they just run?” or “Why can’t they get such a simple question right? Are they stupid?” And your only answer for him is: “They just aren’t as smart as you, Kouji.” and your responses always boosts his ego, even if your replies were a bit sarcastic

While watching TV together, he would often eat candies or sweets and he would share them with you

In the living room whenever you two are free from homework or just so happened to be bored, you'd challenge him to play Super Smash Bros. on the Switch. And every single time, he'd mostly beat you in every single round by using his favorite character to fight: Ness (Of course he would use him. I call this canon.)

While playing Super Smash Bros, he would call you out for choosing weird characters to fight like Isabelle, the Villager from Animal Crossing, the Pirahna Plant, and even the Wii Fit Trainer (YES, THE FUCKING WII FIT TRAINER.), and he would call all of them weak. "What the hell? Out of all of the characters you chose, you decided to fight as them? No wonder you died so quickly." His insults didn't stop you from challenging him for rematches.

Whenever you ask him to help you on your homework, he would begrudgingly help you. (Basically, you’re the only person who he would help without blackmailing or without charging you with anything in return for his service.)

Kouji would eat the treats you bake, whether that be cookies, cakes, and other desserts. Especially, the strawberry cakes that you'd make and you would share it with him.

Whenever you mention a boy or a male friend, he would seem very nonchalant about it and dismiss the subject. But you wouldn’t know that he would do research on the poor boy, social engineer to hack into that boy’s accounts (financial accounts or not), and commit cyberattacks on him (viruses, DDoS attacks, phishing, etc.)

Whenever the both of you end up in an argument, you apologize a few days later by sneaking into his room and place sweets on his desk with a bottle/can of grape soda in front of his computer with a little note that usually says small messages like, "Truce? :)" or "I'll give you this peace offering if you let me off the hook." and he would usually accept the gifts and reluctantly eat them.

You would dye his hair purple for him, whenever he asks you to do it and recolor his hair once in a while.

As siblings, you'd do each other a solid at home with the typical "you owe me" exchange. This is your own little way of showing how much you care and look after each other.

You're aware that Kouji has a job, since you caught him one day with a check in his hand that had a bunch of 0's for its amount. You asked him, "Where'd you get that from?" and he would simply say, "My job."

You were a bit shocked to hear that he has a job so your conversation with him ended up being sarcastic and blunt. This is how it went:

"What job?"

"The job that I work for."

"No shit. I meant, where do you work at?"

"Some company."

"Some company? Bullshit. And they'd actually hire someone as young as you? You're barely 16."

"And? The other people that they've interviewed before me were all a bunch of idiots in the first place."

"Huh... I guess that makes sense."

Finally, you two left it at that and decided to never tell your parents about it. After all, what are siblings for anyways?

[hometoursandotherstuff]

Thanks to Ingek73 for sending this beautiful 1728 multi-level home for sale in Amsterdam. Now, it's very white to the point of almost blindingly so, but we have to look at it as a blank slate for the new owner. The architecture is superb. 3bds, 2ba, 5 floors, €900,000 / $970,978K.

Walk thru the front door and there is a small area with a desk and bookshelf.

Straight ahead and a few steps down is cute little sleeping nook. Above is a lovely railing through which you can see the kitchen. This is cute, it's like your own little 2 fl. space.

Now, this is not the kitchen, it's a kitchenette. Whoever gets that little bedroom also gets this.

Bath #1.

This is the main kitchen. It's big and bright, and can you imagine a beautiful backsplash along that big wall? Then paint the walls or even wallpaper one, and it'll really pop. You can even fit an island in here.

Next we have the living room. Not too big, not too small. Put some colorful furniture and decor in here, plus a colorful area rug, and voila!

Bath #2 is a shower room.

Then down some more stairs. The stairs could use some kind of funky carpet runner, a different on each floor.

Spacious primary bedroom can be rearranged and decorated.

Details of the railing. These would be lovely bringing out the details with an accent color.

Isn't this stunning? Not sure what this is, but it must be access to something that is, or was, on the building, like maybe a clock?

It could be so fabulous with a wallpapered feature wall and some color.

And finally, there's this adorable little roof top deck.

Imagine sitting here among the rooftops.

[falseandrealultravival]

About domestic strokes

@This concept is extremely important in Morishita's home economics. In urban engineering, there is a term called "person trip," and the transportation of a person for some purpose is called "one person trip," and it is used as basic data for urban transportation planning.

In home economics, there is an indicator of the level of housework that I am not satisfied with, so I will introduce this domestic stroke. The basic idea was transplanted from the person trip. From now on, this indicator will be abbreviated as DS. Since housework is done by moving the "hands," the word stroke (one stroke in swimming) was used.

@What is counted as DS (example)

One unit of labor is called DS. Even if the work is done by an organization outside the home, it is considered to be 1 DS from the perspective of maintaining the family. The labor of "taking a bath" is also 1 DS.

The labor of "commuting to work" includes actions such as driving a car and eating lunch on the way, but is counted as 1 DS.

Even if you stop by various stores to shop, it is still 1 DS.

Going to a multi-purpose facility such as a convenience store can all be counted as 1 DS.

Making (and receiving) phone calls, using the Internet, etc. are counted as 1 DS.

For dementia patients receiving care, the act of "receiving care" is counted as 1 DS.

Reading, listening to music, taking a walk, etc. are counted as 0 DS and are not evaluated.

Everyday physiological phenomena (defecation, urination, sex, etc.) are counted as 1 DS no matter how many times they occur. Sleep is 0 DS. Insomnia is 1 DS.

A complete conceptual definition has not yet been made.

Based on the above, we took Morishita Rei's DS from December 20, 2005 to January 2, 2006.

Date　　　　　　　　DS　　　　Notes

12/20/05　　57 12/21/05　　52 12/22/05　　61 (blog immersion) 12/23/05　　43 12/24/05　　23 (Saturday) 12/25/05　　42 12/26/05　　40 12/27/05　　46 12/28/05　　39 12/29/0553

12/30/05 29 (younger brother, father at home)

12/31/05 28 (Saturday, New Year's Eve, computer failure)

01/01/06 21 (New Year's Day)

01/02/06 21

MAX (maximum) 61, MIN (minimum) 21, Range 40, Average 39.6, SD (standard deviation) 12.9

In the case of the Morishita family, Rei is almost always at home and is a house husband. The younger brother is a contract employee, the father goes to a nursing home five days a week, and all three are at home on Saturdays and Sundays. What can be said from this data:

Rei and the younger brother share work on Saturdays and Sundays, so Rei's DS decreases.

If she doesn't use the computer or phone, her DS will decrease considerably. ③ Her father is always worth 1DS, and since Rei's work for her father on an average day is estimated to be 9DS, her net housework burden is an extra 8DS. ④ Therefore, that amount is the basis for receiving Galois (http://d.hatena.ne.jp/iirei/20051204) from her father. ⑤ This is just speculation, but the ideal DS would be around 17. ⑥ I will consider taking DS for all members of the family at some point.

Today's Quote: I think that if you look at phenomena in the world using the keyword "home" as a keyword, you can access the truth more directly than if you think about it from the perspective of existing academic disciplines like social science or natural science.

[trans-luis-serra-navarro]

I’m SURE this isn’t an unpopular sentiment and we all kinda agree that it HAS to be more or less canon but like. Isn’t it just. So poignant that Luis’ method of survival is to just. Keep fighting tooth and nail. To keep trying to outrun and outsmart bigger and bigger forces beyond his control.

Like. It’s one thing to pick yourself up and make a living and a name and a life for yourself from a practically nonexistent childhood. It’s one thing to try and outrun and pick yourself back up and outsmart a multi-billion dollar pharmaceutical company with access to Bioweapons and mercenaries and other incredibly powerful resources. It’s an entirely other thing to try and outrun and outsmart a cult with glorified magical parasite powers.

Yet Luis still TRIES TO. He STILL TRIES to carve the parasite they infected him with out of his chest by hand. He’s still ready to fistfight the monks themselves with no weapons and probably very little self defence skills. He’s still ready to throw himself into a fire or to fight giants or to go on minecart rides to save the people he loves.

Luis would’ve HAD to have known on SOME level that his attempts were futile. He would’ve had to know that his quixotic dreams of grandeur were based off of a skewed version of said book; he had to have known that his mistakes would one day swallow him whole. Maybe he even believed that he should have never left Valdelobos- after all, home is the first grave, is it not?- but he saw how people who stayed there got swallowed whole by the Plagas. He saw how people who stayed with Umbrella got swallowed whole by the ideals of a world controlled by Bioweapons.

He saw that all and he wanted nothing more than to change and be a good person and to help those who genuinely deserve it. He’d fight tooth and nail for that freedom- literally. He’d charm and he’d run and he’d stay and fight and he’d help and he’d do anything.

He sees Leon, Ashley, and Ada- he sees an opportunity to stop running for just a moment. To stand still and fight for what’s right. Even if the entire world is against him.

Yet when he stands still for too long, it stabs him in the back.

But even right up until the end, he never gave up on that hope that maybe, just MAYBE he can outsmart the wolf pack. Maybe just maybe he can outrun his own mistakes. Maybe, just maybe, he can be a fine knight to somebody who he cares about. He can offer his all to somebody who he loves. And maybe, just maybe, somebody will love him as the fine knight he his right back.

[theknightlywolfe]

Thoughts on Agatha All Along since I gave in to watch it since people on Tumblr seem allergic to tagging their spoilers.

I know it was inevitable but I am annoyed we didn't get Lilia's trial before she was killed off.

Why did amnesia Billy/William go goth-lite? There was no indication from either boy's life. Did he just realize he was gay and randomly choose that from the twink aesthetic catalogue? Did he go with it once he heard about witches and decided to lean into the commercialized version of that aesthetic that they had the whole co-opted culture rant about? If so, that would be hilarious. A bunch of witches stuck with a little fanboy in a Spirit Halloween costume of them the whole time.

I think the potion didn't work for Sharon/Mrs. Hart because they forgot to add her hair to the potion, not because she had drunk more of the wine.

It's going to be interesting to see how the passing of time on the Road vs regular world goes. Because we are talking about a regular of Westview life and a teenage boy just up and disappearing for a while. Lillia can close her shop and it's whatever, Alice just lost her job, and Jen it would make sense she went into hiding to avoid the charges. But Sharon and Billy were expected home for dinner soon. Knowing Marvel, they're just going to ignore that.

Given that only two witches can make it off the road, are they going to loophole Billy (and/or Rio?) since he wasn't one of the witches who summoned the road (or because they're going to technicality him into something not a witch), are they going to end it by trapping/killing Agatha in the vein of destroying the last of Vision in Wandavision so everyone knows there's no s2, is the other witch who made it off the road with Agatha the first time going to come into play (watch, it's Rio), or is Rio not going to make it? I can't imagine, with the poorly done hints at assembling the Young Avengers, that they're going to kill Billy. Also, let's be real, it's still Disney and their execs get nasty at the suggestion of killing children in their media, especially on screen.

The whole jade egg thing was hilarious.

How has Agnes been surviving for three years? Especially with the implication that she randomly goes cuckoo. Is Ralph still paying the mortgage and utilities in the hope he eventually gets the house back? Is she normal enough long enough to hold down temporary jobs to cover her bills and maintain friendships with the neighbors? Especially since they show up to bring her food and make sure she's okay when she does go cuckoo and they all know she didn't live there before Wanda showed up. Does Agnes have access to Agatha's bank accounts and has just been unknowingly draining her savings?

I really need one of those Bohner family tshirts.

On a tangent:

If they are going to Young Avengers Billy, I am even more annoyed at the implication that Kate and maybe Yelena are going to be part of that. Yelena is 30, Kate is going into her mid 20s, and Billy, Kamala, America, and Cassie are mid teens. And how is Shang Chi supposed to fit in? Are they ignoring Secret Invasion or are we really going to see Super Skrulls? If so, what good will Kate and Yelena be except as coordinators and trainers? Billy is the most powerful living witch, America is a universe jumper and wizard, Kamala has super powers and bangles which can build intergalactic wormholes, and Cassie can shrink into a realm where physics work differently and from where she can summon a multi-powers army of friends. Kate and Yelena fight good. Which is kinda useless against Hulk power Skrulls.

If they're going to ignore Secret Invasion the way they seem inclined to ignore Eternals and they're dropping whatshisface because of the actor's legal troubles and poor audience response, then what is the new generation going to be fighting? And if it's basic foot soldier invasion at a level two non-powered mortals can deal with, then what do we need Shang Chi, Kamala, America, and Billy for? I mean, even with everything the Avengers dealt with, the heroes were pretty low level power wise until the last Thanos battle. Thor didn't have his full powers and they're still kind of weak, Wanda didn't know the full extent of her powers, Vision was so busy waiting for Tony to give him orders he never actually used any of his real power, and the rest were mortals. Like, yeah, Cap and Hulk could hit hard but what good is that against Shang Chi or Billy?

So, what? The new full Avengers will be Sam and Shang Chi, with Katie along for the ride to fill the archer role and maybe Yelena, maybe She-Hulk? And then the Young Avengers will be Kate and Cassie and a few planet destruction level super powereds? And if they are going to split Hawkeye 2.0 and Widow 2.0, why bother introducing them to each other and making them be friendly.

And, again, if they are going to give everyone amazing archery skills, why bother with Kate Bishop at all? Kamala has plucky optimism and knows Fury, America has the active connections to the OGs through Strange and Wong as does Cassie in some ways, and Billy brings the purple. Kate has no tactical or strategic training or knowledge, no powers, and while the rest have experience with super powered battles, Kate has ... fought gang members.

And really, how stupid to have all the powers be on a Young Avengers roster while the only person in the potential new full Avengers who would maybe even survive a battle between them is Shang Chi. Because with what they have done since Endgame, all the powers except for him are with teenagers. Shang Chi is the only super powered who can walk in a bar. Are we going to have to wait eight years for them all to be acceptably aged? Is a Disney owned studio really going to lean into child soldiers? Is Sam just gonna swan off and do his own thing and not build a new Avengers team? Is Shang Chi gonna be a Young Avenger? Or is he gonna be the new Strange, there when needed but not really an Avenger.

Is Billy going to be the new big bad? His mom destroyed the Darkhold and the throne room place so he doesn't exactly have the path to world ruling and her full power. And again, is Disney really going to be okay with sending teenagers to kill each other in bloody battle? If Agatha might be the new big bad after she gets her powers back in the show, then they only need to send Shang Chi and Kamala against her since their power weapons are tech not magic and she can't steal them. Or maybe Billy distracts her while Yelena sniper rifles her from behind.

If they just let their stories run, fine, but they hint at team ups that just make no sense.

[normanstack]

Astraweb: The Home of Crypto Recovery in the Digital Age

In the ever-evolving world of cryptocurrency, security and access remain critical concerns. For every success story of early adopters turning modest investments into fortunes, there are unfortunate accounts of users losing access to their digital wallets due to forgotten passwords, phishing attacks, or compromised private keys. This is where Astraweb has carved out a vital niche — establishing itself as the go-to solution for crypto asset recovery.

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