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captainsophiestark · 1 year

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Mad Scientist

Kol Mikaelson x Reader

Masterlist - Join My Taglist!

Written for Fictober 2023!

Fandom: The Vampire Diaries/The Originals

Day 5 Prompt: "You're the smartest person I know."

Summary: Kol's dating a scientist who's buried in college-level work and more than ready for a ridiculous, fun version of science for a break.

Word Count: 1,685

Category: Fluff, Humor

Shoutout/Credit to The Scientific American for the info on how Mentos-Coke reactions work!

Putting work into an AI program without permission is illegal. You do not have my permission. Do not do it.

"Darling? What do you think would happen if I made pancakes with Mountain Dew instead of water?"

I paused, my pen hovering over the page in the middle of summarizing my findings for a lab I'd been working on at my university. I didn't turn around to face my boyfriend, Kol Mikaelson, who stood behind me in the kitchen, instead just staring off in thought for a moment.

"I don't know," I said, finally turning around to look at Kol. "As far as I'm aware, water's not one of the things like baking soda or eggs that's insanely important to the chemistry of baking. As long as you have the same amount of liquid, it should be fine. Maybe a little sweeter than normal, but basically still a pancake."

Kol grinned. "Excellent."

"What exactly brought this on?" I asked, standing from the kitchen table in the Mikaelson compound where I'd been working and wandering towards my boyfriend. "Just out of curiosity."

"Well you see," he said, holding his hands out in a grand presentation gesture and fixing me with a giant grin. "While I was getting the ingredients for making pancakes, I also found Mountain Dew. The rest is history."

"Interesting..."

I trailed off as I finally reached Kol, stopping so I could hold onto his arm and lean around him to look at the ingredients laid out on the counter, Mountain Dew included. My eyes wandered back to my books, still open and waiting for me on the table. I had no desire to go near them again right now, and this was the absolute perfect distraction. I looked back up at the grinning face of my boyfriend.

"Do you need any help?"

Within half an hour, Kol and I's initial experiment had expanded to encompass the entire kitchen and just about every ingredient we had in it. The Mountain Dew pancakes hadn't been much different than the regular pancakes, so we'd gotten progressively more creative in our ingredient substations, snacking on our successes as we went. My books lay long-forgotten on the table, Kol enabling my chaotic science tendencies in the best way possible.

"What if we put pop rocks in it?" asked Kol as he riffled through a drawer of sweet treats in one corner of the kitchen. I hummed to myself as I mixed our latest version, with orange juice instead of water.

"I don't know," I said. "I think we'll just get little pieces of candy in it without the pop, since the liquid in the batter would probably dissolve the candies enough to trigger the reaction before anything else. We won't know for sure unless we test it, though."

I finished stirring, then wandered over to join Kol. He'd set the pop rocks on the table along with a few other types of candies, and now stood in the open door of the fridge. I rested my head on his arm and hummed thoughtfully, until my eyes landed on something else interesting in the fridge.

"Since you've been back in the modern world... has anyone introduced you to the marvel of Coke and Mentos?"

Kol turned to face me, eyebrows furrowed but a smile on his face.

"No love, I can't say they have."

I grinned. "Then I can't wait to be the one to show you."

I snatched the bottle of Coke out of the fridge, snagging the Mentos and a piece of paper with tape too before plopping them both down on the table where we'd been mixing our batter. Excitedly, Kol joined me, wrapping his arms around my waist and resting his chin on my shoulder.

"Okay, so first we need to make the tube to hold the Mentos, to make sure they all drop in at the same time when we want them to," I explained while I worked. I rolled the paper into a tube, covering one end with my thumb and then holding it out for Kol. "Put seven Mentos in there, please."

He complied, sneaking one for himself and then passing one to me. I looked over my shoulder at him, smiling, and he leaned in to give me a soft kiss.

"What's next, darling?" he asked, his voice low. I leaned back into him a little more, but returned my attention to the Mentos.

"Now, it's time for the reaction. Unscrew the lid of the soda, please." Kol took care of it, shifting a little behind me in anticipation. "Good. Now, I'm gonna dump these in, and after I do we're gonna step all the way back, okay?"

"Okay. And what happens after that?"

I shot him a grin over my shoulder. "Science."

With that, I put the tube of Mentos to the neck of the bottle, then quickly moved my thumb and let them drop all at once into the soda.

Kol's grip tightened on my waist as he used his vampire speed to get me to the far edge of the kitchen, hopefully out of the splash zone. A moment later, the reaction started, and the soda quickly bubbled and fizzed until it became a geyser, exploding out of the bottle. Kol gasped from behind me as it hit the ceiling, and I smiled.

The reaction didn't last very long, but once it fizzled down, it took Kol a minute to let me go and move to meet my eyes. He had a ridiculous grin on his face that I quickly mirrored.

"That was amazing, darling," he said. I practically glowed at the compliment.

"Thanks! It's really cool how it all works, actually. See, carbonated beverages are full of dissolved carbon dioxide gas, which wants to form bubbles and escape the pressure of the liquid. But to do that, it has to break its bonds with the water and interact with itself. Because the Mentos candies are actually covered in a bunch of tiny grooves, it makes it easier for the bonds between the carbon dioxide and the water to break, making the reaction of bubbles escaping the soda happen at a much, much faster rate!"

I'd started pacing a little, gesturing with my hands as I explained, but froze when I realized I'd been rambling for more than a little. I turned back to Kol with a grimace.

"Sorry. I know you probably don't care about how it works-"

"What? No! That was excellent, the way you explained everything!" He grabbed my hands in his as he pointedly met my eyes. "Darling, you're the smartest person I know. And it's absolutely incredible. Please don't ever apologize for the way your eyes light up and your voice gets all excited when you talk about something you love. It's one of my favorite things in the world to see."

I started tearing up a little bit at Kol's words, and as soon as he finished speaking I wrapped my arms around his neck and pulled him to me, kissing him, hard. He smiled into the kiss and wasted no time wrapping his arms around my waist and pulling me tighter to him. Finally, after a few long moments, I pulled gently away.

"As much fun as I'm having... I do need to finish the lab writeup for my actual science class."

Kol sighed and ran a hand through his hair, then fixed me with a devilish grin.

"Fine. As long as you promise to let me know anytime you have an experiment to do that I can sit in on."

I beamed back at him. "I promise."

Kol gave me a sweet smile, then leaned in and kissed me one last time. Despite the homework hovering in the other corner of the kitchen, I could feel Kol sucking me in and distracting me to the point that I didn't care about my work. I was just about to give in, too, when someone coughed loudly from behind us.

Kol and I turned around to find Elijah standing in the kitchen doorway, his eyes scanning the disaster zone the kitchen had turned into. Soda still dripped from the ceiling, and horrifying pancake mutations were spread on almost every surface.

Elijah sighed heavily, his exhausted stare turning back to me and Kol.

"I trust that this will all be cleaned up before the two of you run off to other activities? Preferably sooner than later?" he deadpanned. Kol scoffed, and I tried and failed to fight a guilty grin.

"Yes, Elijah. We'll take care of it," I said. He nodded once, pausing to stare at everything for an extra moment before shaking his head.

"Good."

With that, he turned and walked out of the kitchen. Even without vampire hearing, I heard his heavy, long-suffering sigh from the other room. I turned to Kol and giggled.

"Oops."

"He loves it," Kol said confidently, waving me off. "We keep his life interesting."

"Well, that second part is definitely true. Come on, let's clean up at least a little bit of the mess. We need to do it at some point anyway, and I really do need to go back to my homework."

Kol booed and rolled his eyes, but moved to start helping me deal with the mess anyway. He picked up the now mostly-empty bottle of soda and held it thoughtfully, then turned to me with a glimmer in his eye that I loved.

"You know darling, if we pointed these in a specific direction for the reaction... we could probably shoot the soda at Elijah and the rest of my siblings."

I grinned. "We absolutely could do that."

We stared at each other for a few beats, nodding slowly, communicating without words.

"I'll superspeed cleanup," Kol finally said. I nodded.

"I'll finish my lab writeup as fast as possible."

"And I'll go get more soda and Mentos while you do."

I high-fived Kol as I crossed the room to retake my seat at the kitchen table and he turned into a vampire-tornado of cleaning. We had evil masterplans to enact, after all, and with the two of us working like a well-oiled machine, the rest of Kol's family and anyone else in this house didn't stand a chance.

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TVD/TO Taglist: @elenavampire21

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pascalsummers · 1 year

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Marvel men with a bf who has a pet bat :0 (this has been in my mind all day.)

A/N: I thought this idea was really interesting! Just to spice it up also made it so that the bat and the reader have a sort of psychic bond.

You Have a Pet Bat (Avengers x Male Reader)

BUCKY

He was a little surprised when you first introduced the bat to him since he didn't expect bats to be a pet that people would have. It didn't take Bucky long to notice the bond between the two of you being a lot more than a regular pet and owner relationship. When he discovered your psychic connection to the bat he was intrigued by it but accepted it pretty quickly. It is not uncommon to find the bat hanging around Bucky while he does his nightly walks around the city.

STEVE

Steve had seen a lot of weird stuff since he came out of the ice and the bat only adds to the pile. He was a little confused at first but quickly came around to it. Steve noticed how in sync you and the bat were and started to get an inkling of something more going on. When you tell Steve about your psychic connection to the bat he will have some questions but will ask them at a later date. While Steve likes that your bat has taken a liking to him he will try to make sure it isn't around when he is training so it won't get hurt.

THOR

Thor found your bat very interesting and was impressed that you have one as a pet. Thor liked to ask you many harmless questions about your bat so eventually the topic of your bond came up. When you explained to him the connection you have with the bat Thor was surprised that humans can do something like that since he only heard about something similar happening on other planets. Thor likes to hang out with your bat and will usually feed it any food he thinks the bat would like.

TONY

He heard about people having exotic pets but it's the first time he heard of someone having a pet bat. Tony is a very curious man and had not only noticed the peculiar connection but had come up with a variety of reasons as to why it is. He wasn't surprised when one of his theories turned out to be right but he does get curious about how it exactly works. Tony forbade the bat from the lab after it flew around the lab with one of his tools for a little while. Despite its tendency to annoy Tony, he will still buy some things for the creature.

LOKI

Loki wasn't that phased by it since he didn't think of having a pet bat being that different from others with pet snakes. Loki would wait a bit before saying anything about it since he prefers to observe and get as much information as he can. When you tell him about the psychic connection between the two of you he isn't phased by it because he had heard of similar things happening on other planets. Loki usually likes to read with the bat nearby and sometimes he will turn into a bat himself and prank some of the Avengers with your bat.

BRUCE

He was a little concerned at first since bats usually didn't make good pets but he was willing to give you the benefit of the doubt. Bruce would try to help you take care of it and would ask you questions about how you care for the creature. He would be amazed at the psychic connection and would have many questions about it but would do his best to not overwhelm you with them. The bat likes to sit on Bruce's shoulder when it's tired which is something that Bruce likes but also makes doing work difficult sometimes.

#avengers x male reader #marvel x male reader #bucky barnes x male reader #bucky x male reader #steve rogers x male reader #steve x male reader #thor odinson x male reader #thor x male reader #tony stark x male reader #tony x male reader #loki laufeyson x male reader #loki x male reader #bruce banner x male reader #bruce x male reader #mcu #marvel #the avengers #x male reader #male reader

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monocle-teacup · 2 months

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So I wanted to make my own post addressing this theory about how Starscream knows about Terratronus.

It's an interesting theory, but the series itself states that apparently Croft knew about Terratronus' existence going by how badly Starscream wanted her hard drive. There's also the fact Croft was adamant that no one enter the tunnels underneath GHOST in What Dwells Within. It would also explain why there's no info about Witwicky itself: It's a cover up by GHOST. Being that she was the leader, Starscream most likely came to the conclusion that her hard drive would have valuable info on it.

As for the harness Mandroid made for the Emberstone, it matches his MO when it comes to his tech:

He also uses a harness to control his lab at the end of Age of Evolution. I'm not disputing the fact he experimented on the Cons, but the end of Home specifically stated that he needed test subjects for the control badge. Regular energon is different than the energy of the Emberstone which is why Mandroid needed the sleeves to charge the Death Tower. Why would the Emberstone give Starscream of all bots visions?

There's also this image from Disarmed:

Mandroid says, "Bring me the Emberstone and I can build whatever you want." Since he was electrocuted by Emberstone energy it's possible that GHOST's systems picked up readings from it. You know what Mandroid does right before touching the stone? He hesitates.

He's not sure what's going to happen when he does touch it. Having the stone on his chest makes perfect sense so that he can keep an eye on it and brag about how he has it, which he does when he sees the Maltos on Quintus' ship.

I understand the fandom wants an in universe explanation for Starscream's drastic change, but he's not the only character that changed in S2A. Can you picture the Dot from S1 being totally okay with her kids fighting Cons? Then there's Robby of all characters narrating about how Cons will always be Cons. S2A is not shy about letting the audience know that it pretty much wants nothing to do with most of the concepts in S1.

Starscream didn't have a complete change of spark from Hashtag. While Starscream does tell Twitch that word spread about what the Terrans did for the Cons, it mostly seems like the Cons coming to help fight against Mandroid is because they're aware they're all screwed if he wins. Starscream also flat out says that he's looking forward to beating the crap out of Megatron. Starscream still has selfish/bastard tendencies with how he treats the Cons in S2A. Shockwave says, "Starscream has lost control of his weapon and his mind." Of course having incredible power controlling a Titan is going to bring out Starscream's worst qualities. Chaos energy corrupting Starscream to such an extreme degree while not affecting any other character in such a way doesn't make sense.

#tf #tfe #transformers #transformers earthspark #tf earthspark #earthspark #dr. meridian #mandroid #earthspark mandroid #tfe mandroid #starscream #earthspark starscream

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hungry-eel · 8 months

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The Gluttony showcased in Octavinelle (reupload)

Before I begin with the main content, if you see this and notice that it may possibly seem familiar, that’s because it is. I originally uploaded this onto an old and abandoned secondary account, where around the time I was still in a bit of denial of my stuffing interests. I decided to polish and RE uploaded this analysis onto here because one, it honestly suits this account more, and two, I want this to reach its intended target audience that this blog revolves around, I hope you enjoy this analysis, and with that, let’s get back to the regular scheduled program. —

Hello! I hope you are all doing well! In the past, I have mentioned that Octavinelle is the embodiment of gluttony, and that I would elaborate on that statement more. Well, this is the post where I elaborate on the statement.

Please be aware that although I am going to try and show some cannon proof, at least for this first part, this is still overall just something silly that I enjoy talking about, and having dumb fun with. This is something that doesn't have to be taken entirely seriously, nor is this a statement that I am trying to prove as absolutely true. It just happened to be that I found some cannon connections from my observations.

Be prepared for spoilers from here on!!!

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Azul ~

As of right now, the Azul we have currently doesn't seem to be all that much of a glutton (when it comes to food). However, something else that is also a highly crucial part of Azul’s character was how he was an ex-glutton. Azul goes out of his way to avoid going back to his old roots and maintaining a slim figure, often trying to eat a restrictive and balanced diet. Although Azul has the desire to maintain his health and slim figure, he still does not enjoy the process, and especially preferring fried foods over health foods. He still doesn’t like when others pressure him to eat a lot, even if it’s with his favorite foods, but will still seize any opportunities that he can to enjoy his favorite foods, weather it’s birthdays or other private occasions. Azul is also very well equipped in knowing how to run restaurants as his grandma ran a restaurant, and runs a restaurant himself currently, that being the Mostro Lounge.

Azul’s incessant want to create new contracts as well as the consistent desire for power and control, can also be interpreted as a form of overindulgence on Azul’s end; no matter how much power he has over those he is controlling, it is never enough for him and he always wants more of that power.

In Azuls Birthday Boy card, his groovy art has Jade handing him a plate of chicken and also has a couple of home screen lines asking what we were implying when we were giving him food.

Floyd ~

Floyd has his own personal knack for food, as he enjoys snacking, and indulging in various amounts of his favorite foods such as takoyaki and candy. Even the shelves in his room is lined by snack bags that he uses to have midnight snacks. Floyd has also mentioned in his birthday boy vignette, that he likes to play food games with Jade where they try the most outlandish food combinations possible. Whenever Azul comes back during any of these games, they would try and eat all of the evidence. There was also a brief moment in Treys lab coat vignette where according to Jade, he had to look for more strawberries as a result from Floyd gorging on their current strawberry supply.

Jade ~

Now with Jade, he is an entirely different beast in it of itself! I have always been fascinated with Jade in the sense that when you first see him, he would be the last person you would expect would have a large appetite, especially as he always appears to be very poise and classy, but the more you look into his character, the more clear his tendencies become and its so hard to not see. Because of such there is much more to talk about with Jade than with the other two characters.

Here is a list of canonical things that Jade has done already.

Jade loves to heavily indulge in his hobbies and passions especially when it comes to mountaineering, terrariums, cooking, and his fascination with mushrooms. When it comes to mushrooms in particular, he both enjoys eating mushrooms himself, and finds pleasure in watching others indulge in mushrooms as well (showcased in Jade’s Labcoat Vignette).

In Book five, Jade mentions to Grim that primarily goes to the mountains to search for food. More specifically to try and harvest edible plants and organisms. During which Grim asks, "So basically, you just go to the mountains and scavenge for grub?" and Jade responding with, "Heh heh. I certainly wash and cook what I find, but generally speaking, yes."

There are two notable Home Screen lines where Jade mentions about his eating. One with his PE uniform where he mentions how he has to eat before working out as he lacks energy efficiency. The other one is with his Birthday Boy where one of his lines states, “Are you surprised by how much I eat? Heh heh, I get that a lot. It's why I'm so tall.”

It is hinted and shown throughout various Home Screen lines and vignettes that Jade likes to try many various types of unique foods, either out of interest and/or to create new recipes for the Mostro Lounge.

Legitimately almost all of the harveston event! Just in his event vignette alone he ate over five servings with Sebek and even afterwards wanted to grab desert. Even Sebek, who is also a pretty hearty eater, even admits that Jade has eaten more than him. Jades and Sebeks escapades are just as prominent in the main even itself where Jade is tasked by Azul to try as many unique dishes as possible so they can be added to the mostro lounge menu. Jade proceeds to try out different kinds of foods at the vendors, and in the celebration the night before the game, Jade and Sebek were tearing through the buffet.

In addition, here is some other moments that revolves around Octavinelle in general.

At the very end of the Beans day event, Jade and Floyd have an exchange on how they were craving shawarmas.

Jade and Floyd generally point out how little Azul eats and occasionally tease him about it as well. In the Halloween event when Azul comments on how watching Ruggie eat gives him heartburn, Jade replies by saying, "I believe you could put him to shame if you felt so inclined."

In Jade’s Halloween Vignette, Ruggie mentions on how Jade and Floyd are well built for Apple bobbing as they are tall with pointy teeth.

Both of the tweels have mentioned at least once that they eat a lot because they are so tall or that they are growing boys.

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A question that I have heard often is why say Octavinelle in particular? Besides, there are other characters that also showcase gluttonous tendencies, some may even more so than most of the octatrio.

I say Octavinelle in particular as it is the only dorm where all of the students exhibit the traits in one way or another, as well as serving the aesthetics of the dorm, with its lounge being a restaurant. Octavinelle is also the only dorm where this topic had at least a bit of a curtail point in its Book, that being with Azul’s backstory and how he used to be chubby and an ex-glutton.

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Headcanons!

Here is a small list of some of the headcanons that I have that circle around the topic. I might add more headcanons to the blog as I go, and if anyone else has any headcanons of their own, feel free to share them with me.

Jade is the complete opposite of Azul regarding food and dieting. While Azul tries his best to eat healthily, with moderate portions, Jade eats the most unhealthy foods out of the trio and eats the most out of them as well. Jade also likes to taunt Azul with that fact as well.

Floyd is the kind of character who would most likely eat anything even if it seems inedible.

Jade and Ruggie like to often join together just to try out many different kinds of foods together, similar to what happened in Ruggie's School uniform vignette, and Jade's harveston vignette. There would also be times were I would joke that Jade, Ruggie, and Sebek would band together just to have food.

I like to imagine that the Coral Sea is like a dog-eat-dog world, and along with this, the tweels have to rely on hunting other live fish for their own survival. When coming onto land, the tweels had to learn that they shouldn't hunt for animals publicly.

Whenever there are instances where Azul has to leave the Mostro lounge for an extensive amount of time, Jade and Floyd would keep trying to take advantage of that time to play their game where they eat weird food combinations (mentioned in Floyd's birthday vignette).

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Thank you so very much for reading my essay rambling on a topic that, to be frank, is overall goofy and silly. If there was anything that I missed or forgot to mention feel free to let me know. Otherwise, I certainly had a lot of fun making this, and I hope you found some entertainment or even some insight from this as well!

#foodie #hungry boi #hungry boy #glutton #big eater #twisted wonderland #jade leech #stu//ing #twst jade #twisted wonderland jade #floyd leech #azul ashengrotto #analysis

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th3w00ds · 5 months

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Sharper Headcanons

Sharper's a regular human

Although now, due to an experiment gone wrong, he got his arms and his legs replaced with a mix of metal and his own flesh, basically prosthetics

Very advanced ones, as he's a scientist and inventor and made them himself

He can feel through them, and they usually look exactly like regular limbs

That stays true even if others touch them, though you could probably feel the wires and circuitry in his arms/legs if you pressed down hard enough

Even though they do have machinery in them, they do still have human flesh and tissues

Hence in Take Me Anywhere where his body and the wires/circuits seem to be one whenever he's injured

Because, well, they are one

Sharper has a tendency to get hurt on accident a whole lot

That damages his prosthetics and exposes the circuitry underneath them

Which to him hurts just as much as a wound of whatever caliber it is would hurt to a normal human

A master at inventing and chemistry

In fact, once he had a whole company

It was called Sharper Industries. He unfortunately shut down his company after getting very addicted to his own invention: The Sharper Industries Immersion Tube, and the Hallucina-Puff Memory Gas that allowed the tube to work

Sharper hadn't completely made sure that the Memory Gas was perfected before he started producing and selling the Immersion Tube to the public, hence the "Excessive exposure to HPMG may damage some to all brain function" warning on the product

The reason Sharper got so addicted to it was after his ex-girlfriend, Jessica (whom he was on good terms with before her passing) died in a car crash during a storm while going to visit her family

Sharper, even with all his life-altering and potentially life-saving inventions, couldn't save her

Due to all his guilt about the accident and his belief that he could've done something to change it, he obsessively enters an Immersion Tube that he had installed at his home

Just to see her again

Over and over and over and over

Sharper couldn't stop thinking about Jessica and what he could've done to help her, even if he was the head of a wealthy company and, by all accounts from everyone around him, "needed to move on," Sharper couldn't

Not yet

His addiction to the Immersion Tube ended up nearly killing him

Sharper realized this due to his worsening health, worsening immune system, extreme memory issues, frequent migraines, flashbacks, and emotional instability

So he stopped using his Immersion Tube, and shut down his company. At the time it was just an extended leave, but without their founder, the company started to fall into disrepair quickly

By the time we see him in Take Me Anywhere, he's gotten over the majority of his addiction to HPMG

Although Sharper still goes occasionally have withdrawal (I have no idea if this is how addiction works so if I get anything wrong I apologize)

What Sharper hasn't gotten over however is Jessica and her death

At that time, he is now attempting to create a "perfect version" of HPMG in his personal lab

Well

More abandoned warehouse which Sharper has repurposed into his home and current laboratory

Yeah he just kind of found it abandoned, moved his stuff in, and was like "Alright this is my home now, I can conduct my research without interruption!"

Sharper hasn't gotten extraordinarily far in his perfect HPMG research, but has certainly made lots of progress

There was an unexpected side effect of one of his test versions of his altered HPMG

When he took it, all the injuries he had at the time were healed immediately

No matter the severity

While it worked wonders for physical injuries, it didn't work so well for mental ones

He is very, very determined to get there one day, to the perfect version. If not for him, then for Jessica

@nwtbobsessedemo @bondoes-art @themoonisrotting @colourfulmes @nightshade-error @flaming-dolph16

#natewantstobattle #nathan sharp #nwtb #natewantstobtl #nwtb egos #natewantstobattle egos #sharper #sharper nwtb #sharper natewantstobattle #sharper youtuber ego #youtuber egos #my headcanons #my writing

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chisakifiles · 1 year

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you save me over and over again | chisaki kai overhaul yume/comfort oneshot

by popular demand. (im kidding) hope this is enjoyable since its my first time writing for tumblr. anyways an intervention was necessary and i need a lil kiss on the forehead yk

content warning; self harm (literally the first line of text), suicidal tendencies, angst, genderneutral!reader. disclaimer: this is a work of pure fiction and is not based on any real events.

I sat on his bathroom floor and watched the blood pool. I felt the emptiness get replaced with the sting of the wounds along my arms and everything was finally quiet. This wasn't my first time doing this and expecting my life to end. I cut my arms and wrists before. I tried a gun in my mouth, and another one to my head. I even “accidentally” took too many pills on purpose. But every single time I deliberately forget to lock the door, and he has found me every single time. I tell myself to lock it every time I plan, too. Yet something deep inside me hopes he will open the door, and he does. Every single time. This time was no different.

The static noise in my head is replaced with the peaceful buzz of the burn in my arms, but I felt dizzier too. As if the sound echoed through my head, I heard the bathroom door open in the distance, even though it was directly to my left. Oh dear. Someone's here, I thought. I wonder if it's him.

"Fuck!" I heard them scream, and then rush to their knees in front of me. Oh, it's his face. It's him. Again. He's so lovely. Fuck. He held my face for a second and called my name. I blinked slowly and surveyed his frantic body. He immediately picked me up and placed me on the closed toilet seat. Grabbing bandages and rubbing alcohol, he attempted to clean my wounds before dressing them. The cuts were deep enough to make someone scream if alcohol were to touch them, but when he rubbed it across my arms, all I could do was flinch. My face remained empty. He looked at me with worry for my lack of reaction. "Y/N? Are you still here?" He asked me. I blinked again to answer, since I didn't feel like responding. Then he got up to get me some water.

When he returned, he held it close to my lips, but I refused to move. "Y/N. Please?" I still couldn't move. "Alright. We don't have time," he said, picking me up by the waist. When I refused to walk, he grabbed the rest of me bridal style and carried me to his lab. On the way there, he knocked on Chronostasis' door. "Chrono, come to my lab right now. Y/N needs help," he said, then continued onwards.

Upon arriving, he placed me in the hospital-like chair and immediately hooked me up to the IV. Chrono joined to aid Kai in taking care of me. The more I came back into focus, the angrier I became. I felt the frustration reach my fingertips and I almost jumped from my chair in a blind fury. Chrono grabbed onto me and held me down to the chair. Chisaki locked his eyes on mine. All I could see was worry. "Relax, hey relax. It’s okay,” Chrono said, barely audible to me. I couldn’t hear anything thanks to the sudden tunnel vision I was experiencing, so I ended up taking an arrow to the neck. Then I felt my entire body slow down within seconds. Even my heart. I could hear again. When I finally stopped huffing, Chrono removed the arrow. I stayed still and Chrono affectionately ruffled my hair, stepping back.

"Why do you do this? You make this hard for me," I finally spoke quietly.

"What is it that I’m making hard? Why do I make it so difficult for you?" Chisaki asked, a slight tremor in his voice as he squatted down to look at me. We both knew the answer to his questions but I stayed silent, tears in my eyes welling. I avoided his own eyes, training mine on his shoes. After a moment, he says "I do this because I love you. It's only natural for humans to protect the things they care for." He leans down to hug my waist, sighing shakily. It was then that I noticed he was wearing only a regular black mask. I felt his breathing through the cloth of his mask and my shirt, onto my stomach. A moment passed in complete silence. You could hear the IV drip.

"I detest you," I said almost furiously. Chrono saw Chisaki's face drop in silent fear, hurt deeply by the words. "I hate that I love you." His face softened as his tears began to well in his eyes. "I hate that I look forward to you always being there. It makes this so much more harder. Why do you do this to me? You have no business preserving someone else's life for your own selfish reasons. This feels...like hell." He pulled back and just watched me, tears threatening to fall. The guilt dropped its weight. "I'm sorry. Chisaki, I'm sorry. I...I know you're trying to help. I...you don't deserve this," I sniffled, rubbing my eyes. "I don't want to hurt you. I don't want to put you through this. You deserve better than that. I'm sorry." I gently raised my hands, motioning for him to stay away from me.

He speaks slowly. "It's worth it because its you. I wouldn't rather live any other life. You deserve to live because I think you are worth living for. You have changed me for the better. I can only return the favor. If I had to choose...I would choose to find you and pick you up and be there until you get better, and keep doing it over and over until you're free from it." I stare at him in suffocated silence. Then my own tears fall, and continue to fall until I can no longer speak.

After a moment, I mumble, "Why do I always hope you find me? Why?"

He holds a conflicted look on his face. "I'm...not sure. You...you love me, right? I'm something you care about right?"

I nodded. "I can't...protect you if I'm gone. But you're protecting me instead."

He pulls his mask down and smiles softly. "That's okay. We can take turns taking care of each other. That's what relationships are for." He raises from his knees and sighs. "What makes you feel better? Anything you need. I'll do it for you," he says quietly.

After a moment, I look at him and sigh, pulling the IV out. "You can get me a glass of water," I say, tired.

Chrono begins to move, holding a pensive expression on his face. Chisaki tells him he'll get it himself. Chrono pats Chisaki on the shoulder, then steps out, closing the door. Chisaki gets the water and I stand up to take the glass and drink it slowly, holding back more tears. I put the glass down as he comes in close and envelopes me in his arms. He had put on his jacket that he had left in the lab and wrapped his jacket around me in the hug, and I hold onto him, clinging tightly and taking in his scent. Feeling me grab onto him, he squeezes himself even tighter around me. I began to openly sob into his shoulders. "Please, please, please don't let me go. I don't want you to leave me," I whispered.

Petting my head, he answered just as quietly, "I would never. You could make me furious beyond reason and it will never be enough for me to leave you alone. Then we'd both be alone. You are my spouse, I am your husband. I'll die with you." Somehow I clung even tighter. I felt my fingers begin to ache. I don't know how long we stood there until I heard him laugh softly. "Come on. Lets take a bath." We headed back to the bedroom, walking slowly. He interlocked his fingers with mine and pulled me along behind him. When we reached the room, he lead me to the bathroom and began running a bath. we stand next to it and he offers to help me undress.

I lifted my arms slowly, wincing at the ache in my bandaged limbs as he pulled my shirt over my shoulders. Then I watched as he carefully undid the bandages, revealing the still fresh cuts. Tugging my waistband, he looked at me, then pulled my pants down. Despite us being married, I caught myself feeling flustered as he passed his eyes over my crotch. I took off my underwear and stepped into the large, round tub, sitting down to watch him take off his own clothes. I couldn't help but stare at him myself, watching his body.

He followed me into the tub, sitting next to me. I watched as he rest his arm on the edge of the tub behind my shoulders, almost leaning into me. “We can rest for however long you like, and then I can help wash, too. The scent of lavender and vanilla filled the room, reminding me of him.

“Okay,” I nodded and just sat back. We sat in now comfortable silence, drifting off into our own thoughts while still being anchored by one another. I thought about how completely startled I was at the fact that he wasn’t compulsively scrubbing the both of us down right now, and how he didn’t give his bloodied cloth gloves more than a second glance earlier. Not once did he break out either. He just seemed completely at ease. In turn I felt like I could breathe more easily too. “Thank you,” I said, leaning over him to place a gentle kiss on his neck. “Thank you, thank you, thank you,” I continued, each “thank you” complimented by another kiss on his neck.

He sighed and placed a sud-covered hand in my hair. “Why do you thank me? I told you, there’s nothing else I’d rather be doing right now,” he answered.

I shrugged, sinking down to rest my chin on his shoulder. “I don’t know. I just feel bad. You can’t expect me to not feel even a little responsible,” I said quietly. He continued to pet me, and I felt our skin grow warmer with contact.

“You’re right. It’s okay if you do. But the reality of it is that it isn’t your fault. You’re just trying to find the best way to help yourself. Even if it isn’t actually helpful.” He turn to look at me so I raise up to meet his gaze. “There’s no malicious intent behind struggling with something like this. None of us have the right answer to being alive so what are you really responsible for in the first place?”

“…Fair enough,” I replied. He leans in apprehensively and lands a tender kiss on my lips. I close my eyes and sigh, feeling his presence in front of me. The simple thought that I was not in fact the only human being on the planet eased my mind tremendously. After a few more soft kisses I say, “Okay, I’d like to have this bath now.”

Chisaki nodded and grabbed the soap bottle, along with shampoo and conditioner, then the shower hose. "Would you like for me to wash your hair?" he asked me. I closed my eyes and nodded. He ran the water over my hair, making sure it was soaked in warm water before grabbing the shampoo and lathering his hands in it. I relished in the feeling of his fingers massaging my head, reaching every corner, crevice and ache. He washes it out and I put the conditioner in my hair myself.

Once I finished combing my fingers through my hair, I looked up to ask him, "Want me to wash yours too?" His hair was significantly shorter, so it wouldn't be too much of a task.

"Sure, why not," he sighed, and I did the same for him. As I scratched at his head with shampoo, I couldn't help but steal adoring glances of his face. His eyes were closed and he looked like he was in bliss. Then we both took the regular soap and scrubbed ourselves until we were completely clean. Chisaki grabbed the shower hose and washed my skin off then my hair, gently covering my eyes to keep the conditioner out. He lifted my face once the suds washed away and placed a small kiss on my forehead. Then he quickly washed himself off along with his hair and we get out of the tub.

I watched him drain it and clean up in the bathroom as I began to dry myself off, but as I'm watching him, I see him walk over to me, still sopping wet. He immediately grabbed fresh dressing for my wounds and recleaned them before applying it. I watched his face as he worked, completely void of any negative emotion. His fingers moved quickly and carefully, as if he were 100% sure of himself. Once he finished, he took the towel from my hands, burying my head in the towel and ruffling it nicely. I laughed softly at how willing he was to do anything for me and I took the towel back from him. "It's fine, I got it. Go help yourself, my love."

He huffed, slightly embarrassed. "Alright." I watch him dry himself off and then I follow him back into the bedroom. I went to my closet and searched for clean pajamas to put on, to commend his effort to help me. He dressed himself quickly and by the time I get my pants on he's already grabbing my t-shirt and pulling it on over my head. I sighed and smiled at him, giving in. He then helped me finish up moisturizing my hair, which was actually just him taking over completely. "I want to do this for you," he said.

"Okay," I answered softly.

Once he was finally done with me, he pulled me close and grabbed my hands to bring them around his waist. I interlocked my fingers together and rested them on his lower back as he brought his own larger arms around my shoulders to grab my back, squeezing me in an embrace. I rested my chin on his shoulder, accepting my pleasant fate. After a moment the tears threatened to return, and as if he sensed it himself, he let go, placed a small kiss on my neck and grabbed my hand.

"Let's go to bed. You must be exhausted."

I nodded, giving him another "Okay," except this time it was shakier.

He led me to our bed and let me get under the covers first before following and collapsing himself on top of me. He laughed softly and I followed along with him, which took me completely by surprise. He showered me with kisses and said, "Let's go to sleep. I can offer you myself as an additional blanket for tonight." He didn't normally act playful, so I could tell he was trying to cheer me up, and it was working.

Yawning, I answered, "That sounds good to me." He shifted above me and snuggled close. I knew he wasn't comfortable on top of me and would last 40 minutes tops up there, but I let him do as he pleased, because watching him try to make me happy was definitely making me happy. I definitely didn't last the 40 minutes, though. Before I could think of anything else to say to him, I fell deep asleep.

He kissed my forehead once more and whispered, "Good night. I'll see you tomorrow." He rolled off of me while still resting his arm on top of me, drifting off himself.

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bigfootbeat · 2 months

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Bigfoot and the Science of Tracking

The mythical Bigfoot is said to live in North American forests, especially in the Pacific Northwest. Bigfoot is a big, hairy, ape-like creature that has captivated the attention of many people and spurred a field of study devoted to tracing and establishing its existence. Traditional tracking techniques, contemporary technology, and a healthy dose of skepticism and discussion among scientists are all used in the science of Bigfoot tracking. Conventional tracking techniques are essential to the Bigfoot hunt. Physical evidence, such as footprints, hair samples, and scat, is frequently sought after by enthusiasts and scholars. The most often claimed piece of evidence is a cast of enormous, human-like footprints that were discovered in isolated locations. To determine the legitimacy of these impressions, factors such as stride length, depth, and skin ridges are examined. Unfortunately, there has been continuous dispute due to the absence of reliable and regular tracks. The field is frequently complicated by hoaxes and incorrect identifications of animal tracks, making it challenging to discern between real and fake data.

When it comes to Bigfoot studies, audio cues are just as important as physical proof. Researchers claim to have heard loud vocalizations that they identify as Bigfoot, such as screams, howls, and hammering sounds on wood. Using top-notch audio equipment, these noises are captured, and any patterns that diverge from those of recognized fauna are examined. Although audio analysis can be quite interesting, the wide range of noises made by different animals and surrounding elements can sometimes lead to misunderstandings. Bigfoot tracking research now has new instruments thanks to modern technology. Drones, infrared imaging, and trail cameras are frequently utilized to keep an eye on isolated locations where sightings have been reported. Specifically, trail cameras are positioned in key spots to take pictures or recordings of wildlife, including possible Bigfoot encounters. High-resolution camera drones are capable of covering enormous areas and capturing aerial pictures of dense woods. Large animals may be present in the shadows when heat signatures are detected, which is made possible by infrared imaging. Even with these advances, it is still difficult to find conclusive photographic or video evidence of Bigfoot, which frequently leads to grainy or inconsistent recordings. Another potential option in the hunt for Bigfoot is DNA analysis. Samples of hair and scat taken from alleged Bigfoot sightings are sent to labs for genetic analysis. To find any abnormalities, scientists compare the DNA from these samples to that of known animals. The scientific community is dubious of studies that claim to have discovered unidentified primate DNA, frequently attributing findings to contamination or testing errors. Replication of findings and thorough, peer-reviewed study are required to support any claims of new species discovery. Because there is so little hard proof and so many hoaxes, the scientific community is skeptical of Bigfoot. Numerous experts contend that the existence of a Bigfoot-sized monster would necessitate a viable breeding population; nevertheless, no physical remains, skeletal remains, or conclusive evidence have been discovered. Furthermore, the great majority of the evidence is derived from eyewitness accounts and anecdotal tales, both of which are known to be untrustworthy. Cognitive biases can cause individuals to mistake natural events for sightings of Bigfoot, such as pareidolia, which is the tendency to discern patterns or recognizable shapes in seemingly random inputs.

Despite these difficulties, there is still a devoted following for the Bigfoot hunt. Motivated by the prospect of making a remarkable discovery, enthusiasts, amateur researchers, and cryptozoologists never give up. Bigfoot's appeal stems from the excitement and mystery of venturing into the uncharted territory, in addition to the prospect of discovering a new species. Many people place equal value on the adventure and the community that surrounds the search as they do on the eventual outcome of establishing Bigfoot's existence. To sum up, the science of Bigfoot tracking integrates cutting-edge technology, conventional tracking techniques, and a methodical approach to evidence interpretation. The pursuit of conclusive evidence persists in captivating the interest of a fervent community of scholars and enthusiasts, despite obstacles and skepticism. The search for Bigfoot underscores humanity's ongoing interest with the natural world's secrets, regardless of whether the creature is ever shown to exist.

#cryptids #north american cryptid #sasquatch #bigfoot #cryptozoology #cryptid #tracking #bigfoot tracks

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unhelpfulfemme · 1 year

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Another thing I like about Halt and Catch Fire is how it deconstructs the idea of the creative visionary ahead of their time pushing society into the future.

On that show, everyone is kind of a visionary and no one is. If you think about it, all their breakthroughs are a result of their natural tendencies and interests meshing well with the current state of the technology, and their natural tendencies are a product of their histories and temperaments.

Cameron specializes in software, and what she is obviously most interested in is human-computer interaction. This makes sense - at some point she describes herself in middle school as someone who didn't know how to communicate with others, until she was introduced to computers and was thrilled to learn that she could communicate with something she could understand. Computers fulfill her emotional needs, in a way. So whether Cameron will be the innovator is almost entirely a function of how much the current trends or oncoming trends mesh well with her internal perception of computers as something to interact with. She is heartbroken when Joe takes out the proto-chatbot out of The Giant but easily dismisses Donna when Donna pushes to expand Community, because Community isn't about talking to computers, it's about people talking to other people, which to Cameron is initially incomprehensible. Cameron only recognizes the value of Community when she meets several people with trauma similar to her own, and sees how they resolved it not by talking to a computer but by talking to other people. Cagey, asocial Cameron also likes technically complicated things, because she perceives a kind of intimacy and specialness in being the only one to understand how something works. It's a kind of a shield between her and the world, again deriving from the way she found validation and intimacy in working with computers as a kid. Like a jealous lover, she prefers the conversation to be 1-on-1. No wonder she is aghast at the rise of plotless first-person shooters and demands for game controls to be explained - to her it's stupid, ungrateful people unwilling to put in the work necessary to build an intimate relationship with the computer.

Donna is clearly a hardware girl and her most brilliant moments come from creative hardware solutions, but she also spent at least a couple of years as a housewife with two small children and can see the benefit in being able to communicate with other people long-distance. She also grew up in a very image-oriented household and sometimes struggles with similar tendencies herself, so she is also quick to recognize the liberating potential of being anonymous on the internet (Cameron, who is not only uninterested in socializing or making a good impression but also gleefully shows off her worst traits to everyone else - she is the ultimate "queen big dick" - could never). But Donna really isn't that into software, or the newer hardware - in late S4 she fixes up an old radio and admires its old-school simplicity, contrasting it with the newfangled chip-based technology that she dislikes. The tragedy of Donna is that, probably due to her early pregnancy, she never had the chance to work on complex hardware for long enough to make a name out of herself in that field, and hardware is expensive enough that she can't do it at home on the regular or have access to truly innovative stuff outside of a corporate setting like Cameron or Tom did with their more software-based interests (she had to work a random job late into her pregnancy to be able to somehow hustle up the parts for the Symphonic). So it's no wonder that she opts out of the industry entirely and focuses on getting money to people who might need it, a process whose difficulties she's intimately aware of. This way she gets to participate in the more hardware-based stuff in some way - look how happy she is to explore the robotics lab in late S4!

Joe is clearly into literature so he recognizes the potential for a good story, and he is also obviously good at perceiving power plays and imbalances and similar entanglements that are somewhere on the edge between strategy and sociology and politics in a broad sense. This also makes sense, because he grew up near at least some centers of power, and being a queer kid who was aware from an early age of how his social standing was based on a lie probably didn't help. The best illustration of how his moments of savantry are based around strategy games is what he does with the antivirus software: the idea doesn't come from Joe's great technological insights (LOL), it comes from his analysis of several situations happening to him simultaneously - various people reacting to his trustworthiness or lack thereof, and then Cameron having his and his company's balls in a vice grip because she's able to destroy their data or hold it hostage (as Paul Atreides said, "He who can destroy a thing, controls a thing."). So this is where the idea comes from - it's basically an arms deal for a new kind of warfare. And then he leverages this into telling a fanciful larger story about security and safety and society and human rights, probably inspired by being an mlm during the AIDS crisis, because he is a good enough storyteller to position himself as some kind of a messiah, but also because he is aware of the strategic and sociological implications of large powerful entities getting to pick and choose who and what gets to be safe and the psychological effect this has on people (note how his struggle with the board to keep the software free overlaps with the subplot of him having to deal with the homophobic business partner - someone involved in Joe getting a government contract - who explicitly says that he wishes all the gays would just die of AIDS).

Gordon is an optimizer - I don't think we've ever seen him have a truly innovative idea, ever, but give him a prompt, even an impossible one, and he will perfect it, optimize it, streamline it beyond your wildest dreams. It's no wonder Gordon is underappreciated because he's exactly the kind of detail-oriented person who is cast aside in favour of larger, more bombastic personalities, but when the name of the game is slow and steady improvement Gordon does better than anyone because he takes what already exists and makes it better in every way possible. Gordon is kind of an anxious person, and kind of a nitpicky one in most situations (he keeps correcting other people's exaggerations and incorrect statements, it's no wonder he gets along with Kate so well), and he often resists qualitative change but he pushes "the state of the art" forward as much as any of the others. He is an artisan, as reflected in his idea of custom-built boutique computers. This is why the worst thing that can happen to him is his neurodegenerative disorder - it threatens the attention to detail and precision and finesse that make his work truly stand out.

I really enjoyed taking apart these characterizations but I guess that my broader point is that while all these people are brilliant in their own way, they are also not brilliant in many other ways, and rather than being invincible geniuses their success is based entirely on moments when the constantly shifting technological zeitgeist overlaps with their innate way of perceiving the world for a brief moment before the innovation itself necessarily eventually causes a second-order change that creates a new, less compatible status quo.

The narrative is almost Hegelian in its approach; a great man does not create historical reality himself but only uncovers the inevitable future, because what he is personally striving for currently matches up with the broader movements of the world. But if it doesn't, the great man is fucked no matter how great he is - Ryan was more ahead of his time than arguably anyone, and ended up where he did through a combination of various personality flaws and systemic factors.

#halt and catch fire #i am not normal about this show and I will be making it everyone else's problem for the forseeable future

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lady-harrowhark · 1 year

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i feel like my brain is eating itself and i can't help that think a non-insignificant contributor is that i'm so fucking alone. like i see folks when i'm at work, but it's always in between their meetings.

i'm not particularly close with anyone in my program - there's one person i'd consider myself to be decent friends with, but she's recently gotten to be closer with some other folks in her lab and i know they spend a lot of time together, whereas i don't know if i've hung out with her since april. my one friend that i was actually pretty close with moved about two years ago and has a tendency to go radio silent for a few months before calling me during a meltdown. i've tried to arrange some social things lately but it keeps falling through on the other person's end.

one really bizarre dynamic in my program is that almost every student has a serious partner. 8 of the 10 in my cohort moved here with a partner, even. the other day i thought "i might be the only person i know in our program that's single" and then i went "no, that's ridiculous. that can't be possible." but i pulled up the grad student directory and went down the list, and of everyone i know well enough to know whether or not they have a partner, only two other people are single (and one of them is someone that i am not interested in spending time with). and to be clear, the issue here is not that i'm single. it's that nearly everyone i know has a go-to person to do things with, a default person to hang out with. and with everyone else doing their thing with their partners, i don't really have anyone to do things with on any sort of regular basis.

my best friends live 800 miles away. i'm not close with my family, and they're out of town anyway.

it's not that people don't like me. i know i'm well liked. people enjoy being around me, they appreciate when i'm there. i love helping my friends, and i know they're grateful for it. i'm a reliable, friendly addition to a given social setting. but i'm not a priority for anyone here.

no one's obligated to prioritize me. but i would really fucking appreciate it.

#i hate how whiny this sounds but i'm just having a rough go of it lately #i need to crack down on my big academic projects so that i can get out of here and be back with my friends #have been toying with the idea of driving the 1600 mile round trip just to see them for the weekend #just like. my brain is eating itself and that's the only thing i can think of that might remotely make it better

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timelessxmemories · 8 months

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Nox Lancer:

@ren-not-rennie , @gmanwhore , @laplaces-angel-hphp , @miss-midnightt , @ask-liam-and-co

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

Personality: Nox is more or less very cocky, arrogant and reckless. He's insanely energetic and has way too much stamina for any normal living creature due to his dragon part. He has a tendency to run head first into things without thinking. Sure, he might be incredibly arrogant and cocky, but he does have a huge heart deep down. He won't hesitate to protect his friends if they're in danger, he also won't hesitate to become their personal therapist or a shoulder to lean on if they need it. He's also insanely laid back and pretty chill, but also very flirtatious. He also tends to get very easily distracted by anything shiny. He hoards shiny things.

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

Occupation: Police Officer. However, he never does his job properly and probably should already be fired by now but then again, he's the best they got on the force so there's not much they can do about it. The chief is in constant Torment by his officers. Save the chief. Help him. Also, does Mr. Steal Your Girl count as a job? Nox wants to know./j

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

S/O: Criminal. No, seriously, that's their name. Their name is literally Criminal and it's beautiful and amazing. Shoutout to my partner by the way<33

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

Species: Nox is a hybrid between a human, dragon and a demon. He has a dragon form which he can transform into whenever he so desires. However, he prefers staying in his humanoid form because he believes it makes him look more attractive.

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

Main AUs: Dysfunctional World AU (His regular version) & Turk AU (The AU also used most often alongside Lock.)

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

Likes: Alcohol, Cigarettes, Tea, Cheesecake, Baking (terrible at it), Gardening (doesn't know how to do it, he just says he likes doing it), Reading, Battle

Dislikes: Anyone who stands in his way of his job (Actually doesn't give a shit), Cooking (it's boring to him), people who talk to him if he has earbuds or headphones in.

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

Background: Nox was actually created in a lab as an experiment and was artificially born, not naturally. When he was 10 he ran away and never returned back to the lab. He was known as a highly dangerous specimen, however nobody bothered to even try to look for him because nobody gives a shit about what happens in this world. It's great. Anyways, he joined the police force when he was 16 because they were desperate for members and he's been there ever since. He's now 22. He met Criminal in an alleyway at the age of 21, so, a year ago. And they've started dating since. Why? Because again, say it with me now, nobody gives a shit about what happens in this world.

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

#{ timeless ; ♤ ; no its the people that are wrong ;; nox lancer }

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circumlocutive · 2 months

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Undergrad research blast from the past. Here I am in 2020 assembling a micro fluidic flow cell with a gold electrode block. I think I took this video for myself so I knew what to clip to what. This was when I worked with electrochemical sensors, transducing signals via impedance spectroscopy.

A lot of electrochemical techniques rely on measuring voltages or currents, but in this lab we looked at impedance- which is a fancy combination of regular resistance (like the same one from ohms law) and the imaginary portion of the resistance that arises from the alternating current we supply.

I would functionalize different groups on the gold working electrode by exposing the surface to a solution of thiolated biomarker capture groups. Thiols love to form self-assembled mono layers over gold, so anything tagged with thiol ends up sticking. [Aside: Apparently after I left the group they moved away from gold thiol interactions because they weren't strong enough to modify the electrode surface in a stable and predictable way, especially if we were flowing the solution over the surface (which we wanted to do for various automation reasons)]. The capture groups we used were various modified cyclodextrins- little sugar cups with hydrophobic pockets inside and a hydrophilic exterior. Cyclodextrins are the basis of febreeze- a cyclodextrin spray that captures odor molecules in that hydrophobic pocket so they can't interact with receptors in your nose. We focused on capturing hydrophobic things in our little pocket because many different hydrophobic biomarkers are relevant to many different diseases, but a lot of sensors struggle to interact with them in the aqueous environment of bodily fluids.

My work was two fold:

1) setting up an automated system for greater reproducibility and less human labor. I had to figure out how to get my computer, the potentiostat (which controls the alternating current put in, and reads the working electrode response), the microfluidic pump, and the actuator that switched between samples to all talk to each other so I could set up my solutions, automatically flow the thiol solution for an appropriate time and flow rate to modify the surface, then automatically flow a bio fluid sample (or rather in the beginning, pure samples of specific isolated biomarkers, tho their tendency to aggregate in aqueous solution may have changed the way they would interact with the sensor from how they would in a native environment, stabilized in blood or urine) over the electrode and cue the potentiostat for multiple measurements, and then flow cleaning solutions to clean out the tubings and renew the electrode. This involved transistor level logic (pain) and working with the potentiostat company to interact with their proprietary software language (pain) and so much dicking around with the physical components.

2) coming up with new cyclodextrin variants to test, and optimizing the parameters for surface functionalization. What concentrations and times and flow rates to use? How do different groups around the edge of the cyclodextrin affect the ability to capture distinct classes of neurotransmitters? I wasn't working with specific sensors, I was trying to get cross reactivity for the purpose of constructing nonspecific sensor arrays (less akin to antibody/antigen binding of ELISAs and more like the nonspecific combinatorial assaying you do with receptors in your tongue or nose to identify "taste profiles" or "smell profiles"), so I wanted diverse responses to diverse assortments of molecules.

Idk where I'm going with this. Mostly reminiscing. I don't miss the math or programming or the physical experience of being at the bench (I find chemistry more "fun") but I liked the ultimate goal more. I think cross reactive sensor arrays and principle component analysis could really change how we do biosample testing, and could potentially be useful for defining biochemical subtypes of subjectively defined mental illnesses.... I think that could (maybe, possibly, if things all work and are sufficiently capturing relevant variance in biochemistry from blood or piss or sweat or what have you) be a more useful way to diagnose mental illness and correlate to possible responses to medications than phenotypic analysis/interviews/questionnaires/trial and error pill prescribing.

#blog #stem #electrochemistry #sensors #biochemistry #research

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astro-75s-blog · 5 months

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Au post

Oc info

Serial Designation I

Serial Designation I is the brother of J and K and while the three were very much competitive they at one point did get along relatively well. I shared the same quirk that J and K posses which is the use of buzz words instead of regular phrases. I despite what his sisters say about him isn't entirely a self absorbed jerk granted he still has a higher opinion of himself. I had grown close to Cyn during their time at the manor and clearly built something close to a relationship with her though M and W questioned why I found anything in Cyn. I's appearance before his damage was not that different then N though he wore a outfit similar to that of a lab coat and occasionally wore glasses. I doesn't have the same lust for oil and sadistic tendencies of other Disassembly Drones due to him not gaining any joy from his job which results in him not always killing every Drone he comes across as he judges them by how much of a threat they could be. I is loyal to A and Tessa though he very much follows the Companies orders there are some exceptions as he avoids reporting either of his sisters when they underperformed. I is equipped with five claws on each hand, a heavier set of wings, an energy weapon, a deployable blade, wires that were capable of subduing a target for injection of viruses and stealing info from Drones or computer systems.

#murder drones #my oc character #cyn murder drones #murder drones au #oc #serial designation j #oc x canon

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let-me-take-your-soul · 2 years

Note

Dtk, but it's his SCP document headed by Stein and co-headed by maka. :)

I was also asked to add some angst to this, and there is some angst there if ya squint a little bit, but I may have written this a little too clinically for it to hit the same way as some of my other fics lol. Maybe I'll write something later on about Kid's reaction to seeing an SCP entry written about him??

Death the Kid's SCP document:

Maka made her way up the creepy path to her teacher’s lab. She clasped the journal she held close to her chest, fiddling with the edges of the pages as she entered the lab.

“Professor? I’m here!” She calls out.

She waits for a moment before the familiar sound of Stein’s rolling chair makes its way down the hall.

“There you are, alright, you brought the info, correct?” he asks, peering at her from over his glasses.

Maka nods, handing him the journal she was clinging to. Stein opens it and begins to read.

“ Object Class: Euclid

Disruption Class: Keneq

Risk Class: Warning

Special Containment Procedures: N/A

Description: This SCP resembles a young human boy (currently aged about 14, though this SCP seems to age as any human would). He is referred to as “Death the Kid” but has insisted on being called “Kid” as a shortened name. He has black hair that he keeps very tidy, with three white stripes on the left side of his head that do not seem to be affected by dyes of any sort (much to the dismay of this SCP and their affinity for symmetry). This SCP also has pale skin and bright gold eyes that they state is “common amongst reapers”. For the most part, this SCP has a tendency to dress in dark gothic style clothing and is particular about their clothing being as symmetrical as possible. This quirk of desiring symmetry is a strong subject for this SCP and if any asymmetrical aspect of themselves is pointed out, they will go into a self-loathing state and refuse to move unless they have been reassured that their symmetry does not make them a horrible being.

Other physical attributes of this SCP include his skin being cold to the touch and they do not appear to have a heartbeat or a need to breathe. Regular growth of hair and nails seems to take a much longer time in comparison to an average human. They are also immune to poisons and have a more accelerated rate of healing than an average human.

This SCP seems to behave as most other human teenagers would. Their emotions can be erratic at times and the sight of any asymmetrical object or being puts them into a state of discomfort until the subject is fixed.

Additional Information: This SCP contains a very strong soul power that can become even more dangerous if they feel their life is threatened. During periods of intense struggle, the lines in their hair begin to detach and form complete halos around their head. Upon full connection, their power becomes more intense and he has the ability to affect people around him with the wavelength his soul gives off. However, this SCP is much more rational and compassionate than other anomalies and has chosen not to display the full capabilities of what that additional power can do.

While he does interact and get along well with others, this SCP is also rather distant and seems to struggle creating strong connections with multiple people, especially humans. They sometimes become reserved and withdrawn when involved in social situations. However, they also tend to overcompensate for these moments by immediately becoming a centralized attention with lighthearted behavior that may seem disingenuous at the start. ”

Stein reads over the journal entry once more, then rolls back to his computer, pulling up a document where he begins to viciously type in every detail and more.

“It needs a little touching up and some more details here and there, but good work, Maka. Thank you for participating in this extra credit research. Please let me know if you can think of any additional information!” he tells her as he continues his typing.

“Of course! Thank you for the research opportunity, Professor!”

#soul eater #soul eater imagine #soul eater imagines #soul eater fanfiction #maka albarn #death the kid #dtk #stein #dr stein #franken stein

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choccy-zefirka · 1 year

Text

Lab safety? What lab safety?

The wonderful @ziskandra enabled me, so after more than a year of being incapable of writing anything new, I churned out a 5K-long s3x pollen crackfic, starring Alexius and Yvie!

Before you proceed, be mindful of the content! Aside from some warnings like angst and a minor reference to Alexius’ self-destructive tendencies post-defeat, the fic contains the following bad writing elements:

Word repetition.

Weird purple-prosey metaphors that might not make much sense.

References to Phantom of the Opera (deliberately sprinkled in lyrics from Music of the Night).

Questionable/unrealistic smex (body-generated lubrication only, both parties coming at the same time) written by an asexual who is pretty rusty in the smut department.

The usual OOC redemption for Alexius, manic pixie dream girl energy for Yvie.

Non-linear narrative constantly broken up by tangents.

Present tense.

Head-hopping: the story is written in dual perspectives, Alexius in regular font, Yvie in cursive. They both converge when the two reach sexual climax.

My only justification is that I had fun writing it after a long dry spell (huehue).

Softly, deftly, the song weaves through the laboratory.

The gentle Orlesian warble trails over the cluttered research desks, leaps from shelf to shelf, from piles of ground crystal to the yellowing severed claws of some massive creature, and weaves between the flasks, tall and narrow, short and stout, clear to the point of invisibility and dusty to the point of fuzz.

The song's path is elaborate, looping, like gold embroidery — and in a blink, the metaphor becomes real. The sound vibrations meet the unseen ripples in the air that create the Veil; as they collide, as the song pushes against the barrier between the mundane and the magical, a spell is cast.

Today, the Inquisitor is practicing telekinesis. Her voice manifests into long, glowing threads that wrap around the neck of a random potion bottle — with something bright-orange and altogether unappetizing sloshing thickly against its sides — and drag it through the air towards her. The ride is a little bumpy, and the bottle makes a few dangerous bobs and swerves, much too close to the sharp corners of tables and cupboards, or the heavy stone ceiling. But in the end, it arrives safe and sound at its destination: in the Inquisitor's cupped hands. Most importantly of all, not a droplet of the orange ooze, which someone irresponsibly left without a stopper, has been spilled.

The Inquisitor stops singing after she gets her prize. She takes some time to catch a breath — and also seizes the moment to flash a radiant grin at Alexius.

He smiles back... As best he can, with those stiff lips of his, unused to making any expression in the past months except for jeering and snarling and sealing his voice away in despondent silence.

That is enough for her. Just as his company, for whatever odd reason, is enough for her. She nods at him, gingerly walks over to return the potion bottle to its circle in the shelf's dust, and eventually steps back, chest rising upon inhale. Ready to begin again.

And all the while, Alexius... observes.

Phonomancy — casting magic by warping the Veil with sound waves — is a rarer type of spellcraft. But not unheard of, certainly not in *cultured* places like Tevinter. In fact, it falls under thaumaturgy. Thus, when the Inquisition realized that the Mark had granted its Chosen the ability to affect her surroundings when she sings, it could not be clearer that someone had to teach her how to master this unexpected new skill. Someone from Tevinter. Someone who had been top of his class in thaumaturgy at the Minrathous Circle.

Dorian.

Yet he refused.

"Finally, someone in this backwater acknowledges my brilliance," he said, his nonchalant mask firmly on. "But I am afraid I would make a horrible teacher. I have no patience for anyone more than an inch below my level. No offense."

The Inquisitor seemed to take none — but Dorian still hurried to apologize, eyes widening, mask slipping a fraction. He had, of course, meant the difference in their skill level, not the Inquisitor's height, inherited, as they say, mostly from her dwarven mother. While her elven father gave her the slight point to her ears, and, perhaps, that innate spark of magic that lay dormant until she touched the artefact of the Elder One... Corypheus.

Instead of his own candidacy, Dorian pushed forward — figuratively, and, rather unceremoniously, literally — Alexius, who had been allowed to attend the council on the Inquisitor's magic. With a guard on either side, a massive steel frame for his morose portrait. With runed shackles on his wrists, to be removed for an hour a day, and otherwise ready to erupt into crackling bright-blue agony if he attempted to cast a spell. With his skin itching in the trap of a hand-me-down Circle robe. And with his response to the Inquisitor's judgement — "A headsman would have been kinder" — still bitter and heavy on his tongue.

Why Dorian vouched for him, Alexius will never know. Maybe his former apprentice did think that someone with teaching experience would be better suited for exploring obscure magic with a beginner. After all, Dorian's mind has always raced miles and miles ahead of his peers, at a pace of an untamed dracolisk. Someone who, just a year prior, had only ever heard of magic as an alien, frightening contagion that landed her fellow southerners in shackles, would not have been able to keep up with him. The Inquisitor needed someone who knew how to guide her on a mage's journey, from the very first steps. And adding to that, Alexius was there, in the garden, when — No, it doesn't matter.

Maybe, instead, it was a gesture of pity. A way of giving Alexius something to do. True, he had already been appointed as "arcane researcher" — a much too generous job title that was really just imprisonment in a cell that happened to have a stack of books in it. But this — training the Inquisitor in phonomancy... Oh, this was a challenge.

Challenges have a way of filling one's time. Of speeding it up — Alexius should know. And when the time moves faster, the void that stalks the empty hours before dawnbreak, maw ready to open, teeth ready to feast, does not seem as dark. Despair's breath does not seem as cold. The whistling plummet off Skyhold's battlements, the sheaved steel of a guard's blade, the perfectly black vial of poison in this very laboratory, does not seem as alluring.

So here he is. With something to do.

The Inquisitor has long since stopped needing his instructions, his eye on her stance, his hand at her elbow. The first steps are behind her; the songbird has taken wing. She still makes mistakes, but she knows how to fix them — and to a teacher, that is worth so much more than perfection. Dorian might gasp in mock outrage, but the first lesson that Alexius taught him, a spitfire of a boy with leaking makeup and wine on his breath, defying his father yet still terrified of stumbling and falling in front of him, was that falling does not matter so much as getting up.

Yet despite all this, the Inquisitor continues to call on Alexius whenever she returns to Skyhold from her travels — where she still wields her twin daggers, as the battlefield leaves little breathing room to stop and sing. She continues to welcome him to her phonomancy practice. Not as a prisoner — his shackles were removed some time ago, and the guard outside the laboratory has wandered off somewhere, their post reduced to a formality. Not as a teacher either. As someone who, in a different world, in yet another branching timeline where neither of them had ever killed the other, might have been... A friend.

The Inquisitor is singing an all-new song now. Her magic's golden stream ebbs and flows in time with the unrushed, slightly melancholy Orlesian verse. This time, it divides in two: one ethereal ribbon sweeps up an empty beaker; another, a bowl of dried plant leaves.

Frowning slightly in concentration, yet never letting her tempo dip, the Inquisitor guides the two together, inch by careful inch. Her deep black eyes narrow; her short-nailed, hardworking fingers clench and unclench. At her mental command, the bowl dips, then shakes a little, shifting the leaves all to one side. And at last, they rustle down, into the beaker, not a single one of them falling loose.

Alexius attempts a new smile. It is quite fascinating to watch, this kind of magic.

And she... She is fascinating as well.

For many years, before that one day, Satinalia Eve of 9:38, plowed a charred black gash across his life's calendar, he and his Livia had had a certain... agreement. While their love for each other was strong and true, only further tempered in the usual Tevinter crucible of intrigues and assassinations, they were free to take others into their bed, separately or together. Now and again, he'd entertained himself on that agreement's terms — and then hurlocks' rusted blades and genlocks' dripping jaws turned his wife into a bloody, ragged... nothing, scarcely enough for a funeral pyre. After that, and in the midst of clawing his fingers raw against time's unmoving, implacable granite, to scrape together a feeble semblance of life for his son... It never occurred to him to recreate the agreement.

With one person or several. It felt wrong.

It still feels wrong, but for a slightly different reason. The aching emptiness beside him, where he should have seen Livia whenever he looked behind, still pulls his insides taut. But now this ache has receded... Just enough for him to notice how lush and dark the Inquisitor's eyelashes are. How the green in her hair — the result of a girlish urge to get a dye, she says, which she liked enough to continue using well into adulthood — shines and ripples like the stormy sea back home. How regal her aquiline profile looks when bathed in stark light, even if she herself would laugh and say that she's just a humble gardener from a mountain village. How her voice, aside from being an unusual spell-casting focus, is also entrancing to listen to.

And, like many times before, he finds himself entranced, utterly, completely. Lost in her movements, the delightfully focused expression on her sun-kissed face, the caress of her musical magic. He almost wants... But he can't. Not like this. Not in this place and time.

In his confinement — which, as noted, the Inquisition has been making more and more lax since he showed no signs of ripping off his robe and running around screeching cult propaganda — he has had plenty of opportunity to reflect. To regret. To reach out, clumsily and insufficiently, to those he wronged, from Dorian to Grand Enchanter Fiona.

Yet no matter what he does, he will still remain irrevocably broken.

He failed; failed so miserably — as a magister, a father... Perhaps not so much as a teacher. Still. For all the kindness she has shown him, even at his lowest, in the freezing dungeon underneath Haven, his touch will not elicit anything but disgust. Hers is to shine as the last beacon against the storm the El — Corypheus will bring. His is to bask in her presence, for as long as she allows it. And use his oh so great educational talent to teach himself not to yearn.

Tremulous, tender, the song unfurls for exactly as long as Yvie needs, to float the beaker and the now empty bowl back to where she raised them from. Right to the top of a precarious stack of messy, ink-splotched formula sheets.

With this balancing act completed, she relaxes her spine — which she did not even realize was feeling like a steel rod jammed into her flesh — and gulps to soothe her parched throat.

As she steadies her breathing again, her thoughts race faster than the rise and fall of her chest. A jumble of past ideas, and plans for the future.

Another spell completed. It may feel like a cheap parlor trick now; pointless, too, because just walking around and gathering all this potion paraphernalia by hand is much easier than over-exerting her lungs. But she has a use planned for it — for the good of the Inquisition.

Previously, she taught herself to close wounds by whispering a song into bleeding skin. And now, once she is done training with small objects, she will have enough control over her pitch and singing stamina to move on to something larger. Like construction materials.

Ever since she learned from Josephine that a worker had lost their life on the castle scaffolding, Yvie (once she was done with her ugly bawling over this senseless loss of life) has been doing a bit of... prancing on a hobby horse. She's been trying — with a nearly feverish obstinacy — to get the Inquisition mages to move the building blocks telekinetically from the safety of firm ground, the way they do it in Tevinter.

So far, people have been bristling at the idea of borrowing "unholy" techniques from the dread magister empire. Even Vivienne, who did reward Yvie's tenacity with a gracious nod and a long thoughtful look, was skeptical that such a risky project would take. Their rapport is decent enough for Vivienne not to call the idea foolish outright, but Yvie could almost see the word dancing around the corners of her impeccable half-smile.

But what if she leads by example? Holds a public demonstration? Shows them that, if she moves around a couple of rocks, no demons are going to burst out of the ground and eat her face?

Surely, that ought to persuade the mages to step outside the box! Especially if there is a nice musical accompaniment to raise morale. Some seem to actually... relish in spreading rumors that Yvie's voice has the same mystical power as the songs of Andraste, which swayed the Maker to humankind's side for a brief lapse, centuries ago.

She is uncertain how to feel about the comparison, as someone who learned her letters by monkeying her way up to the rafters of the Chantry school in her village and listening in on the lessons — very, very quietly, not daring to even breathe in the general direction of her neighbors, very jumpy, and potentially very noisy, pigeons. For that was no place for her. The Sisters who taught the human children said that the light of the Maker shone neither on her mother's people, not her father's. So if people absolutely must draw the comparison with Andraste, Yvie would much rather they did something useful with it. Like becoming inspired to magically strengthen the walls of Skyhold.

Of course, regular telekinetic spells are different from phonomancy, and to train mages in those, they'd need to import special literature from Tevinter. Maybe even translate it. But this is nothing that cannot be arranged by Josephine. Especially if Dorian pitches in to help. And... And Gereon too.

After enough visits to the dungeon, enough late-night conversations, enough assurances that she is giving him a second chance, he allowed her to call him by his first name. But she chokes it back when speaking out loud: it withers on her tongue whenever he addresses her with the formal "Inquisitor".

Now that she thinks of it, she only called him Gereon once. Back there, in the garden, when — When he saved her life.

That was when she'd first discovered her phonomantic abilities: she had been singing to her new deathroot sapling to help it grow, out of youthful habit passed on from her mother... And right in the middle of her song, came with a nauseating slither: moist tendrils dragging against damp soil.

The plant unfurled into an undulating, tree-sized monstrosity. Its thorny sprouts lacerated her poor green patch like whips, and rolled towards her in an instant, wrapping around her in an ever-tightening net, with all its poisoned spikes turned inward, growing and growing and growing with the creak of new leather. Aiming at her eyes. An iron maiden made from a quivering, writhing green mass.

Yvie perches on a stool and surveys the laboratory, supposedly to pick out new clinking playthings to whirl into the air... But her eyes instinctively travel to Gereon, on another stool across the room from her, and linger on his wrists, as her stomach churns with the murky sediment of guilt.

The scars have almost faded now, but she still remembers — she always will — the blood running from under his shackles, across the mangled sliver of flesh that sizzled and blistered, almost turning liquid. Because he had used magic when he was not allowed to. He had noticed her... misadventure when the guards let him out for a breath of air, and jumped to her side, burning the monster deathroot away from conjured flames, even as the pain burned away at him.

"Returning the favor for your little feat in the snow," he said, struggling to turn his wince into a smirk. Referring to how she'd found him, forgotten in the evacuation, as his former master burned down Haven.

The next thing she knew, the guards leapt upon him, about to drag him away to what would turn into a very, very long argument between Yvie and the advisors about his further sentence.

For a fleeting second, before he was shoved past a corner of the inner courtyard's gallery, their eyes met. And she mouthed, brows arching, hands crumpling her layered skirt as anger at the guards' treatment of him began slowly boiling,

"Thank you, Gereon."

The first and last time her lips shaped those three syllables he'd entrusted to her.

But in her thoughts — then, and now, and always — she feels much more free to call him Gereon.

Gereon, meeting her eyes again across the cluttered room. Gereon, a constant reassuring presence throughout her experiments with her voice.

Gereon, who patiently sat with her through her first disastrous mistakes, and insisted that they'd help her grow — but does not allow the same luxury for himself.

Gereon, whose face, with its deep lines and starkly sculpted jaw and cheekbones, has captivated her for so long. As have his elegant hands, his voice, which can be silkily persuasive if he wants to, and... And all of him. Even the shadow of the cold, dangerous magister that still clings to his shoulders like a mantle of burgundy and black.

The gloating villain on his throne, the worn-out prisoner in his chains, the father with a heart so big it stained the world red, the curious researcher right here with her — he has been one of the most remarkable people she has ever met. And one of the most handsome, in a way that most of her friends might not understand. She herself certainly did not understand, all those years ago, when she was a cheeky twenty-something getting on her sister's nerves in Vigil's Keep.

The valiant Warden Commander Julie Kader certainly deserved special commendation (on top of keeping the city of Amaranthine from falling apart) for patiently enduring all of younger Yvie's teasing about that human of hers. The old general, with shadows under his eyes and blood of people betrayed caked deep into the seams of his silver armor.

Yvie could not fathom what all the fuss was back then. Why would silly Julie fall for a man twenty years her senior, who'd been the archnemesis of her predecessor, the mysteriously absent Warden Mahariel? But it seems like a weakness for villains runs in the Kader family.

And oh, Yvie is certainly weak for Gereon. If only she could... But he can't — he can't feel the same way. He —

"Is everything well, Inquisitor?" he asks, rising from his seat. Ready to be at her side.

"You have not started a new spell in some time."

She nearly rockets into the ceiling. Has she been that lost in thought? Was it really obvious how foolishly she has been daydreaming about villains?

"I, well... "

She mirrors his motion, flailing her arms chaotically to imitate lighthearted gestures. That one might make. When things are perfectly fine.

The hem of her sleeve — adorned with a broad band of lace, in her favorite rustic style — knocks against yet another alchemical vial. She is not certain what is in it; she is not certain about the contents of most potion bottles here. Asking the Inquisition's mages to let her use one of the laboratories for phonomancy practice seemed like a clever idea at the time, because she thought that the presence of potentially volatile ingredients might add incentive to be very careful and precise with her telekinesis... But now she is seeing the error of her ways.

When the vial flies off to the floor, and shatters.

Alexius' first thought, when the air begins to bloom with huge tufts of lurid pink smoke — far too much of it to have been contained in such a small vessel — is the Inquisitor. Yvonne, he supposes he can call her in the shameful privacy of his mind. He does not dare to think of her as Yvie, not even at the height of emotion.

Just like back then, in the garden, when she looked at him with those bottomless eyes of hers and said his name, and he felt the first jolt of something that was not the pain from his shackles — Not that it matters! It shouldn't matter — he Fade-steps, leaving a wake of his silhouette's pale imprints.

In a blink, he is near her. Magic crackling at his fingertips. A barrier might help, shield them both...

Such foolishness. It is already too late. The smoke has crept up his throat, and, judging by her hoarse coughs, hers as well. Cloying, carrion-sweet.

Alexius gags. Sways, head swimming. For a moment, he feels not quite like himself, but rather like one of those effervescent duplicates created by the Fade step. Thin and weightless as gossamer, detached from his physical body. Not... Not an unpleasant sensation. Amusing even.

The sound of his own barking laughter — a sound he all but forgot how to make — both startles and grounds him. He slides back into his body, and blinks.

Somehow, the colors of everything scattered around the laboratory seem more saturated. The sundry ingredients glitter a lavish green, and gold, and turquoise, and magenta. Even the wood of the desks and the chairs has an almost crimson tint to it now.

And in the heart of this explosive palette, stands Yvonne. Yvie. Yvie. The beautiful Yvie. Emerald in her hair, sun's glow on her skin, fire in her half-lidded eyes.

Alexius' chest tightens, and then relaxes, his heart feeling like it has swollen twofold in size. The longing he has been trying to suppress is back in full force, scorching him from his loins to his throat.

He staggers towards her, driven by a single intent that he cannot bury deep down any more. The whole world has stopped existing, save for her. And himself — but he so desperately wants to stop existing as well. To be consumed by her.

A second ago, she thinks she was worried for him. Frightened that those suffocating fumes might make him faint. But now, she does not even quite understand what "worrying" is. What it feels like. What anything feels like. Except for the ravishing, all-consuming thirst that scrapes at the back of her throat when she looks at him.

She licks her lips. His eyes dart back and forth, following her tongue's motion, and a tiny whimper knocks against his teeth. This sends a hot pulse below her stomach, and she laughs, an echoing, not-quite-there laugh that feels as surreal as the vivid bursts of color all around her. She cannot believe that once upon a time, in some weird other world, she was afraid to approach him... Like this. Look at him. So beautiful.

Oh, she would let him do anything to her. And then respond in kind.

She, too, floats to him on waves of shimmering air, and meets him half-way. She must be engulfed in the same throbbing heat that dances under his skin, as she has unbuttoned the top of the frilly dress she tends to wear around Skyhold. Through the loosened neck cut, he catches a glimpse of her breasts. The olive-gold is slightly paler than the weather-worn tan of her face. Soft, so soft.

He sinks to his knees in front of her, almost evening out their height difference. And at last, at long last, his lips are on hers. He closes his eyes, drinking her in, tongue against tongue, while his hands roam under unneeded cloth, stroking with a rhythm that his mind might have forgotten but his flesh remembers.

Her dress peeled back around her waist, her skin prickling, she presses into him, prepared to drown in his kiss. Want shoots through her in demanding pulses, and she follows the call, running her fingers along the shaved bristles at the back of his head, then dancing over his collarbones, then plunging lower. A soft click, and his belt is undone, and from there, it is easy to gather the fabric of his robes and lift it out of the way.

He breaks the kiss, gasping. Triumph bubbles within her, like her head is a goblet of wine. She grinds against the bump in his breeches, teasing.

His eyes glaze over, desperate, needy. Their brown, much lighter than her own, is like a riverbed on a sunny day. She could swim in that river, she could keep him like this forever.

She bites her lower lip, and the bite seems to stir him up as much as the lick did.

Her own wickedness is elating.

Logically, at his age, he should not become erect so easily, not without certain potions. But the whisper of "logic" in the last unclouded recesses of his brain, somewhere very, very far away, sounds like blasphemy in this world of spinning rainbows and giggling thrills. So he lets the pink smoke claim that final bastion of sanity, and moans in almost reverent gratitude when she finally decides to stop tormenting him, with her sweet lips and her excruciating ruts through cloth, and frees him from his breeches.

Then comes a soft push against his heaving chest. He takes the hint and clumsily lays himself down on the floor. It might, in another place of existence, have been cut from solid rock, but to him, now, it is like floating off on the softest cloud. Absently, he claws away at what little of his clothes that he is still wearing.

Likewise, she is rid of her dress and stays. She takes a moment to stand over him, rubbing her legs together as she looks from his chest, down along the trail of hair on his stomach, to his cock. He smiles hazily, melting into a sweet intoxication at the sight of her curves. That soft dip of her hips, the folds at the bottom of her stomach.

"Take me," he croaks.

"And you, me," she replies, straddling him.

She has been wet since... Oh, since his hands first circled her breasts, pinching at her nipples ever so slightly. The glory of his naked form, with curls of salt and pepper hair, and the curious trails of old scars, only added to it. By the time she spots the coil of a serpent tattoo on his shoulder — a lovely match to the little dragon she got inked on her cheek — she is dripping. She is more than ready for him.

The rhythm of his thrusts leaves her breathless, her heart in her throat, her hair flying undone. She just wishes their height difference allowed her to kiss him at the same time. Just as she thinks that, his drunken eyes linger on her mouth, and somehow, in between panting and whining in a mix of effort and pleasure, he manages to move his fingers enough to cast a spell.

Now this is something she should try singing about! With a faint frizzle, raining biting little sparks, two glowing, purple-tinged copies of his hands soar into the air. With those exact long, slender nobleman's fingers. One returns to her chest, lighter and a little colder than a human hand, but still physical enough to make her gasp when a delicate finger circles her nipple. She does not get to gasp for long, though, as the second hand drifts to her mouth. Eyes fluttering shut, she gently catches the ghostly finger and begins to suck on it, all the while rocking back and forth, her hips against his.

Through gritted teeth, comes a cry. "Fasta vass!"

Then, a gulp of air as the floating hand retreats and cups a flaming cheek.

"Ah! Je veux jouir!"

"Peto, peto te!"

"Je t'en prie!"

"Please!" "Oh please!"

"Yvie! Yvie!"

"Gereon!"

A deep, reverberating shudder, from the core of her being to the very tip of each electrified hair on her skin.

A final burst, which bleaches the oversaturated colors around him into blinding white. A sweet release, the likes of which death and grief and disgrace almost completely erased from his memory. And finally — clarity.

Clarity. No more giddy fog. No more happy delirium. No more fantasies unwinding into colorful glitter before her eyes.

Just a tiny but persistent ache drilling into her left temple. Just her naked body shivering in the suddenly chilly air, under the cold, unfeeling light of the laboratory's lanterns; her dress and smalls lying crumpled somewhere in the corner, her inner thighs still splattered. And in front of her, underneath her, just as naked and disoriented — her former enemy, her perhaps-friend.

His skin glistens with the same sweat that she feels roll down her back in biting, freezing little beads; and his river-brown eyes are wide... Terrified.

The last time she saw that look on his face was in the dark future, when he stared down at the hilt of her dagger coming out of his chest.

"Inquisitor," he whispers hoarsely, dragging himself back on his elbows — away, away from her, desperate to put as much distance between them as possible.

Her name is gone from his tongue again, and even though there are more... urgent things to worry about, this makes her heart sink.

"I am — I do not know what came over me," the words are as clumsy as his fingers, which search blindly for his robe, struggling to cover his exposed, almost painfully vulnerable form.

"One would blame the magic, whatever it was in that vial —"

She waddles over to the shattered glass, keeping her dress pressed tight against her breasts. Trying to swallow down the panicked realization that they have been... rolling around so close to broken glass.

As she leans down to make sense of this glinting mess — and clean some of it up — she makes out a label.

"Experimental nug breeding facilitator," she recites wearily. Making sense of Master Adan's penmanship makes the agonized vein-twitch in her temple even worse.

"Formulated at the request of Lady Nightingale. Handle with care. Effects on humanoids may be adverse."

He grimaces so hard that his face seems to cave inward. She wishes, so badly that a salty prickle begins misting over her vision, that they both could find this amusing. That they could laugh at this, as friends.

"Yes. That." He is also up on his feet now, looking drained and sore, dust splotching his back and shoulders.

"But that is no excuse, is it?" he goes on. "I... I am uncertain how... how to proceed now that this is added to my litany of wrongs. I do regret this, Inquisitor. I apologize."

Her heart ricochets off her teeth, and the salty pall in her eyes shatters into gushing tears.

"I should be the one apologizing! Your mind was not your own, and maybe mine was not either, but I took advantage of that! Because it is something that I wanted for so long! I..."

For a moment, she wonders if the damned nug fumes are still affecting her, because the words are out long before her mind registers that she is still speaking.

"I thought that I was in love with you, but if I truly did love you, I'd have practiced more restraint!"

With a barely audible plop of fabric, the lumpy ball that he has kneaded his robe into drops down to the floor. He is naked again, but there is nothing titillating about that. And nothing ridiculous — even if it is the result of him sniffing some concoction intended for nugs.

He just is.

"Oh Yvie," he says.

And just like that, she could sing again.

#dragon age #dai #dragon age inquisition #gereon alexius #crackfic #original things

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