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omgkatherine01 · 1 year

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Dream Girl: Chapter 8 - A Way In

Series Masterlist

Chapter 7, Chapter 9

Pairing: Neytiri x female reader

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Neytiri had started to help you bond more with your banshee as the days passed, and in turn, the two of you grew closer, much to Tsu'tey's annoyance.

As the both of you flew above the clouds, you glanced down to the ground when Neytiri led you somewhere. You frowned as you spotted something.

It was a strange rock structure making a sort of shell of various arches over a huge tree. The tree was in the center of a clearing and glowed with a gentle purple light.

"The Tree of Souls," Grace explained to you while the both of you, Norm and Trudy were looking at the screen as the tree you saw. You watched it as you were eating because Grace's annoying motherly tone. "It's their most sacred place. See the Flux Vortex in these false color images?"

"Yeah, that's what messes up my instruments," Trudy said.

"There is something really interesting going on in there biologically," Grace said, "I would die to get samples. Outsiders are strictly forbidden."

"Quick question," you said, "From what you aiming, they connect with Eywa there, right?"

"Well, what they think is Eywa," Norm said, and glanced at Grace to see if she would correct him. "They think they can communicate with their ancestors through the tree's. They're probably linking up to the same system that all the other plants and animals in the jungle seem to be on, and the result is a sort of cacophony of experiences and sounds. It would be enough to make anyone think that something spiritual was happening."

You glanced at Grace and she nodded lightly. "Well, isn't it?" you asked, and she and Norm glanced at you. "I mean, every living thing in a jungle being connected like that, sure sounds spiritual to me."

"It's true that we haven't found the exact scientific reason it's happening," Grace said, "But I'm sure, given enough time and funding, we could pin something down. Remember, people thought Heaven was sitting on clouds until we invented airplanes. We've only been studying Pandora for a couple of years, and not nearly at the level I'd like to."

You tilted your head as your eyes moved back to the screen.

The next day, Neytiri and you were flying along a forested ridge. She was teaching you to hunt from your banshee. You were all carrying your bows, scanning below you for prey when you hit one, to Neytiri's delight.

But your happy day was cut short when the both of you flew alone during the day and a huge shadow covered you and your ikran.

Neytiri frowned and quickly looked above you before quickly shouting you a warning, "Ma, y/n!"

You immediately looked toward her and followed her gaze up quickly. A Leonopteryx dove straight at you. A banshee, only several times larger, it is the king predator of the air: the great Leonopteryx. Striped scarlet, yellow and black, with a midnight blue crested head it is both gorgeous and terrifying.

The hunter became the prey.

"Dive!" you shouted, and your ikran immediately did as told and Neytiri with her ikran. The Leonopteryx missed you and followed the both of you through the forest until it stopped because the branches stopped it because of the beast's size.

It let out an angry screech before it flew away. Yours and Neytiri's ikran landed on one of the trees, and you both calmed them down as you tried to catch your breath.

"It's okay, shh," you said to your ikran softly as you petted his side. You looked at Neytiri and she glanced back at you, her face showed a shock experssion.

Oh, my God.

That was what you thought and couldn't help but laugh at that and the thought that you just survived almost getting eaten. Neytiri started to laugh as well.

Later that day, when the sun settled down, Neytiri and you were back at Hometree at night, standing by the fire as you looked up at a massive skull atop a totem, which was the great Leonopteryx. Neytiri watched as you reached up and touched the skull's teeth.

"Our guys call it a Great Leonopteryx," you told her.

Neytiri tilted her head lightly and explained softly, "It is Toruk. Last Shadow." She moved closer and looked at the skull. "My grandfather's grandfather was Toruk Macto. Rider of Last Shadow."

You glanced to her and then back at the skull, "He rode it?" you asked.

"Toruk chose him," she explained, "It has only happened five times since the time of the First Songs."

You looked at her, "That's a long time."

"Yes," she agreed, "Toruk Macto was mighty. He brought the clans together in a time of great sorrow. All Na'vi people know the story."

You glanced at her and then looked over her shoulder to see Mo'at and Eytukan speaking as they were walking by. Neytiri followed your gaze at her parents and looked at you.

You looked at her to explain, "I was hoping, I could speak to your parents, about bringing Grace and my friend Norm over... maybe... even my brother, Jake."

She didn't say anything for a moment but then she nodded and led to you to them. They turned to you when she called out for them. "I wanted to ask you something," you started and glanced at Neytiri before at them, "I was hoping to speak to you about Grace."

Mo'at glanced at her husband and quickly at you, "She is not welcomed here," she said.

"I was hoping I could change your mind," you admitted, "Grace really misses the village. Her students, you and your family, everyone here. She really did try her best to protect the kids. Your daughter. She's not a bad person, I've known her for years."

"You have great love for her," Mo'at stated with a nod, but after a moment she shook her head, "But we cannot forget nor forgive for what happened."

"You don't have to forget what happened or forgive for who did it," you said softly, "But you could watch Grace, and you will see she is not like those who harmed you. I know two more people that would love to join and see from up close how it feels to be walking here by your side, to see what I see. They're good people, just like Grace."

Mo'at thought for a moment before she spoke, "And who are those others?"

"One of them is a good friend of mine, and the other... is my brother. Jake."

The leaders looked at their daughter, and she nodded, hoping they would agree. They exchanged a long look with each other, and Eytukan nodded. Mo'at nodded and looked at you, "You may bring them here."

You stared at them in surprise and relief, and they walked away. You turned to Neytiri and she grinned, which made you smile.

When you were back to your human body, you opened the link pod and grinned up at Grace. She raised an eyebrow, "I don't know if I like that grin."

"You should," you said as you sat up. You looked at her, "I just got you a ticket in that calls 'welcome back to the village'." You stood up as her face turned shocked.

"What?" she asked quietly.

"Yeah," you said, still smiling. "You're welcome back to the village. Talked to Mo'at, and it's okay now."

Your smile disappeared a little and you frowned a little in concern as you noticed her eyes watering. "What's wrong?" you asked as Norm walked in, "I--I thought you wanted--"

She cut you off when she moved closer and pulled you gently into an embrace. You hugged her back, letting a soft smile appear on your lips.

"You're going to get to see them all again, Grace," you said softly.

"See who?" Norm asked, "What's going on?"

Grace and you pulled out from the hug. You noticed some tears slipped down from her cheeks and she quickly brushed them away. "I'm going back," she said softly, and you nodded.

"You're going back," you agreed softly and looked at Norm who was staring in shock. "And I also got a way in for Norm, and--"

"Are you serious?" he asked, stepping closer, staring at you in disbelief but his eyes showed excitement.

"Yes," you answered, "I'm sure Mo'at is looking forward to meeting you."

"Oh, my--" he cut himself off, "I'm going to pass out. I think, I will pass out!"

You chuckled softly and he pulled you into a tight hug, lifting you up from the floor, "Oh, thank you!" he said, laughing.

He placed you down on your feet and you nodded, "No problem... but, uh, I also..." you trailed off and looked at Grace, "I asked for Jake to join for that trip."

"Wait, what?" Norm asked as their smiles disappeared. "Y/n--"

"I know," you said, "I just... I want to give it a second chance, for me and him." You looked at Grace, "He's my brother. I need it to work, because... I don't want to lose him."

Grace stared at you for a moment before she nodded with agreement. "All right. One last chance for him."

"Hey, I'm--I'm glad you called," Jake said, giving you a smile.

"I'm glad to see you," you admitted, "It feels like it's been a while."

"Feels the same," he said with a nod.

You took a deep breath before speaking, "Look, I--I'm going to cut straight to what I want to say." Jake nodded. "I want you here, with me, with us. Here at the Hallelujah Mountains, and--and at the village, but this all deal with Quaritch needs to disappear."

"You can get me into the village?" he asked in surprise.

You nodded, "Yeah. But you have to promise me, you won't do anything that will make me regret it."

He seemed hesitated for a second before nodding, "Yeah, okay." You didn't knew that Quaritch and Selfridge were behind the screen, nodding to him with approval. "Where to go?"

Taglist:

@ara-a-bird, @imthefunniestpersonalive, @mistyyyy, @lovelyspecs, @octavias-next-meat-bite, @redwitchredspeedster, @fanboyluvr, @simp-erformarvelwomen, @maxinej, @smol-book-nerd, @philiasoul, @lisajeongyeon, @stupendousbananajudgeshark, @danielyharstom, @jakesullyssluttt

#avatar series #avatar 2009 #neytiri imagine #neytiri x avatar reader #neytiri x fem!reader #neytiri x reader #neytiri x you #neytiri x y/n #jake sully imagine

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magnolia-pollen · 9 months

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Once, in a dry season, I wrote in large letters across two pages of a notebook that innocence ends when one is stripped of the delusion that one likes oneself. Although now, some years later, I marvel that a mind on the outs with itself should have nonetheless made painstaking record of its every tremor, I recall with embarrassing clarity the flavor of those particular ashes. It was a matter of misplaced self-respect.

I had not been elected to Phi Beta Kappa. This failure could scarcely have been more predictable or less ambiguous (I simply did not have the grades), but I was unnerved by it; I had somehow thought myself a kind of academic Raskolnikov, curiously exempt from the cause-effect relationships that hampered others. Although the situation must have had even then the approximate tragic stature of Scott Fitzgerald's failure to become president of the Princeton Triangle Club, the day that I did not make Phi Beta Kappa nevertheless marked the end of something, and innocence may well be the word for it. I lost the conviction that lights would always turn green for me, the pleasant certainty that those rather passive virtues which had won me approval as a child automatically guaranteed me not only Phi Beta Kappa keys but happiness, honour, and the love of a good man (preferably a cross between Humphrey Bogart in Casablanca and one of the Murchisons in a proxy fight); lost a certain touching faith in the totem power of good manners, clean hair, and proven competence on the Stanford-Binet scale. To such doubtful amulets had my self-respect been pinned, and I faced myself that day with the nonplussed wonder of someone who has come across a vampire and found no garlands of garlic at hand.

Although to be driven back upon oneself is an uneasy affair at best, rather like trying to cross a border with borrowed credentials, it seems to me now the one condition necessary to the beginnings of real self-respect. Most of our platitudes notwithstanding, self-deception remains the most difficult deception. The charms that work on others count for nothing in that devastatingly well-lit back alley where one keeps assignations with oneself: no winning smiles will do here, no prettily drawn lists of good intentions. With the desperate agility of a crooked faro dealer who spots Bat Masterson about to cut himself into the game, one shuffles flashily but in vain through one's marked cards—the kindness done for the wrong reason, the apparent triumph which had involved no real effort, the seemingly heroic act into which one had been shamed. The dismal fact is that self-respect has nothing to do with the approval of others—who are, after all, deceived easily enough; has nothing to do with reputation—which, as Rhett Butler told Scarlett O'Hara, is something that people with courage can do without.

To do without self-respect, on the other hand, is to be an unwilling audience of one to an interminable home movie that documents one's failings, both real and imagined, with fresh footage spliced in for each screening. There’s the glass you broke in anger, there's the hurt on X's face; watch now, this next scene, the night Y came back from Houston, see how you muff this one. To live without self-respect is to lie awake some night, beyond the reach of warm milk, phenobarbital, and the sleeping hand on the coverlet, counting up the sins of commission and omission, the trusts betrayed, the promises subtly broken, the gifts irrevocably wasted through sloth or cowardice or carelessness. However long we postpone it, we eventually lie down alone in that notoriously un- comfortable bed, the one we make ourselves. Whether or not we sleep in it depends, of course, on whether or not we respect ourselves.

To protest that some fairly improbable people, some people who could not possibly respect themselves, seem to sleep easily enough is to miss the point entirely, as surely as those people miss it who think that self-respect has necessarily to do with not having safety pins in one's underwear. There is a common superstition that "self-respect" is a kind of charm against snakes, something that keeps those who have it locked in some unblighted Eden, out of strange beds, ambivalent conversations, and trouble in general. It does not at all. It has nothing to do with the face of things, but concerns instead a separate peace, a private reconciliation. Although the careless, suicidal Julian English in Appointment in Samarra and the careless, incurably dishonest Jordan Baker in The Great Gatsby seem equally improbable candidates for self-respect, Jordan Baker had it, Julian English did not. With that genius for accommodation more often seen in women than in men, Jordan took her own measure, made her own peace, avoided threats to that peace: "I hate careless people," she told Nick Carraway. "It takes two to make an accident."

Like Jordan Baker, people with self-respect have the courage of their mistakes. They know the price of things. If they choose to commit adultery, they do not then go running, in an access of bad conscience, to receive absolution from the wronged parties; nor do they complain unduly of the unfairness, the undeserved embarrassment, of being named corespondent. If they choose to forego their work—say it is screenwriting—in favor of sitting around the Algonquin bar, they do not then wonder bitterly why the Hacketts, and not they, did Anne Frank.

In brief, people with self-respect exhibit a certain toughness, a kind of moral nerve; they display what was once called character, a quality which, although approved in the abstract, sometimes loses ground to other, more instantly negotiable virtues. The measure of its slipping prestige is that one tends to think of it only in connection with homely children and with United States senators who have been defeated, preferably in the primary, for re-election. Nonetheless, character—the willingness to accept responsibility for one's own life—is the source from which self-respect springs.

Self-respect is something that our grandparents, whether or not they had it, knew all about. They had instilled in them, young, a certain discipline, the sense that one lives by doing things one does not particularly want to do, by putting fears and doubts to one side, by weighing immediate comforts against the possibility of larger, even intangible, comforts. It seemed to the nineteenth century admirable, but not remarkable, that Chinese Gordon put on a clean white suit and held Khartoum against the Mahdi; it did not seem unjust that the way to free land in California involved death and difficulty and dirt. In a diary kept during the winter of 1846, an emigrating twelve-year-old named Narcissa Cornwall noted coolly: "Father was busy reading and did not notice that the house was being filled with strange Indians until Mother spoke about it." Even lacking any clue as to what Mother said, one can scarcely fail to be impressed by the entire incident: the father reading, the Indians filing in, the mother choosing the words that would not alarm, the child duly recording the event and noting further that those particular Indians were not, "fortunately for us," hostile. Indians were simply part of the donnée.

In one guise or another, Indians always are. Again, it is a question of recognizing that anything worth having has its price. People who respect themselves are willing to accept the risk that the Indians will be hostile, that the venture will go bankrupt, that the liaison may not turn out to be one in which every day is a holiday because you’re married to me. They are willing to invest something of themselves; they may not play at all, but when they do play, they know the odds.

That kind of self-respect is a discipline, a habit of mind that can never be faked but can be developed, trained, coaxed forth. It was once suggested to me that, as an antidote to crying, I put my head in a paper bag. As it happens, there is a sound physiological reason, something to do with oxygen, for doing exactly that, but the psychological effect alone is incalculable: it is difficult in the extreme to continue fancying oneself Cathy in Wuthering Heights with one's head in a Food Fair bag. There is a similar case for all the small disciplines, unimportant in themselves; imagine maintaining any kind of swoon, commiserative or carnal, in a cold shower.

But those small disciplines are valuable only insofar as they represent larger ones. To say that Waterloo was won on the playing fields of Eton is not to say that Napoleon might have been saved by a crash program in cricket; to give formal dinners in the rain forest would be pointless did not the candlelight flickering on the liana call forth deeper, stronger disciplines, values instilled long before. It is a kind of ritual, helping us to remember who and what we are. In order to remember it, one must have known it.

To have that sense of one's intrinsic worth which, for better or for worse, constitutes self-respect, is potentially to have everything: the ability to discriminate, to love and to remain indifferent. To lack it is to be locked within oneself, paradoxically incapable of either love or indifference. If we do not respect ourselves, we are on the one hand forced to despise those who have so few resources as to consort with us, so little perception as to remain blind to our fatal weaknesses. On the other, we are peculiarly in thrall to everyone we see, curiously determined to live out—since our self-image is untenable—their false notions of us. We flatter ourselves by thinking this compulsion to please others an attractive trait: a gift for imaginative empathy, evidence of our willingness to give. Of course we will play Francesca to Paolo, Brett Ashley to Jake, Helen Keller to anyone's Annie Sullivan: no expectation is too misplaced, no rôle too ludicrous. At the mercy of those we can not but hold in contempt, we play rôles doomed to failure before they are begun, each defeat generating fresh despair at the necessity of divining and meeting the next demand made upon us.

It is the phenomenon sometimes called alienation from self. In its advanced stages, we no longer answer the telephone, because someone might want something; that we could say no without drowning in self-reproach is an idea alien to this game. Every encounter demands too much, tears the nerves, drains the will, and the spectre of something as small as an unanswered letter arouses such disproportionate guilt that one's sanity becomes an object of speculation among one's acquaintances. To assign unanswered letters their proper weight, to free us from the expectations of others, to give us back to ourselves—there lies the great, the singular power of self-respect. Without it, one eventually discovers the final turn of the screw: one runs away to find oneself, and finds no one at home.

#joan didion #self respect #article #commonplace #words

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gavidaily · 1 year

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would you recommend going to the barcelona museum?

so much! it's the new museum since Camp Nou is under reconstruction, and they did an immersive experience. i'm gonna be honest, when i booked the tickets I thought it was going to be lame, mostly virtual (like screens only) and that it was too expensive for it. but when i got there, i was gladly wrong. i def recommend it, it's worth the visit!!

spoilers ahead

it's so cool and it has different rooms and the trophies are there, old stuff like gloves, the first shoes used by that player, old kits, it's so cool to see it! there's a massive wall with barça's kits from all the years and new ones. a special place for la masia story with this big screen with a cute video of la masia players talking about it, that's the video i posted a few days back. there's a special place for Messi and his trophies, a room with touch screen totem where you select a player and you see their information and a little video with their highlights 😭 and a room with those popular installations nowadays where they display videos on all the walls and it's 360º it's very cool!!

the price is in line with other museums in Barcelona (I paid the same for Casa Battló) so if you're a barça fan, you should check it out. I love it. It's not big and fascinating as museums with yk art pieces and sculptures, but it's amazing to see the club's history and old stuff.

i want to go again when they reopen camp nou because there's a ticket where you enter the pitch and it must be amazing.

#it feels special somehow #i also went to the barça cafe and you get a plastic cup!!!! i'm such a child for souvenirs and 'free' stuff i loved it #but what i think it's the greatest thing it's how committed they are with details #like the napkin the bag that came the sandwich the chairs with numbers the plastic cup you can take it with you #even the burger has barça's crest on it #all the tables have informations and little facts #also go to the store even if you wont buy anything!! its big and it's filled with photos of them and all the kits are very beautiful #i felt like a little kid mesmerized by everything the whole time #for someone who lives so far to be there it felt pretty special #me last year: i only gonna follow gavi not fcb #me now: i'm in love with this club and nothing else matters #anon #gavidaily asks #ask

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zylian · 2 years

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lifesteal unprompted 3 pov fight at midnight:

Zam found Mapicc in the nether and followed him

Mapicc proceeds to lose him by going through the end than went live at zams base as a joke

Zam thought his castle was in danger so instead of ending he went to check his base

Mapicc thought zam was gonna jump him so he got Ro cause he didn’t have gear

Zam proceeds to panic as they gear up so he dms Subz to help him

Subz who has just started stream and is explaining where he’s been gets spammed and realizes zams prob in a 2v1 and now has to find his base

<- Zam, Mapicc & Ro start to fight (7 min fight btw) ->

Mapicc has low pearls and must conserve

Ro is on a laptop and struggles cause of the jump boost beacon

Mapicc blocks 4/5 beacons and unluckily misses the jump boost one and has to go back

Zam totems popped

Subz appears midway through and realizes he doesn’t have low fire and half his screen is covered

Ro and Mapicc realize their not gonna win with Subz there (Spoke is in their vc btw)

Mapicc has one Pearl so Ro tells him to leave the fight

Mapicc runs to the portal, Subz calls him an idiot and breaks the portal immediately

Ro and Mapicc run away (since they’re under geared and Ro is on a laptop) ((they say they’ll come back later to finish the fight))

As they run away they ask if it’s considered combat log if they leave now, zam says no so they log off

—————

Zam asks Subz to be his teammate since he’s 100% sure there hostile towards him now

After downloading a vanilla tweaks pack to get low fire Subz replies to zam sure

Zam gets cobs, Subz looks at zams castle, Mapicc tries to get silk touch but zam gets back on to tell him to leave,

both Mapicc and Zam ends stream leaving Subz to peacefully stream (rant)

#zy summary #lssmp rants from watching twitch #zy live thoughts

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spinningbuster98 · 1 year

Video

youtube

Mega Man X6 Part 2

Ok so we can finally tackle the...”least bad” levels of X6

Commander Yanmark is pretty annoying, mostly due to those giant insect enemies that are tanky, throw their guided blades THROUGH the walls, and quickly resurrect after you beat them. The levels spams them really hard, it’s worse than the slicers in Metropolis Zone, and it makes the level a pain.

Then there’s the infamous room with the instakill spikes that forces you to make a leap of faith because the camera doesn’t show them all to you. I honestly don’t have too much of a problem here because it’s a really short segment but ehh

Then we have Central Museum aka Ground Skaravitch’s level.

This is shit.

The level design is incredibly cramped and awkward and those Nightmare enemies (who can pass and shoot through walls) are spammed with little rhyme or reason, along with the level randomly spawning those...rock things to throw at you. The whole level is just a big mess that feels like it was designed in a single day to meet a deadline.

The worst part is that the specific areas you’ll go through are decided at random every time you touch one of those Totem holograms. This can be a huge issue if you’re going for the Light Capsule or Heart Tank or the Alt Route entrance, since you just have to hope that the level will be kind to you and take you where you want to. I was lucky this time but there have been times when I had to replay this level around 5-6 times just to get to the Light Capsule. Just wonderful design there guys.

Infinity Mijinion’s stage, much like Shield Sheldon’s, is incredibly short, extremely linear, with absolutely no real platforming, you’re just going down a straight line for 3 minutes while the level throws everything and the kitchen sink at you.

Then you face the boss.

Infinity Mijinion is one of the worst bosses in Mega Man history

I don’t think I even have to explain why. Just look at him! Look at how much of a mess this battle is!!

“Why don’t you use his weakne-”

Because it sucks! He’s supposedly weak to Shield Sheldon’s Guard Shell, but that weapon is a shield that doesn’t hurt enemies directly, rather it refletcts shots back. In Infinity Mijinion’s case it only reflects a specific laser attack that he only shoots half the time, it doesn’t damage him all that much more than a regular charged shot, and is also not guaranteed to ricochet back to him precisely without hitting any of his bubbles or clones! There is no strategy here side from hoping for the best.

This is one time where I actually prefer using X over Zero. X6 just assaults you with everything on the screen every 2 seconds, making X’s defensive play actually less effective when compared to Zero’s lower defense but coupled with a higher offense. Yeah you’ll die more often with him but there’s also a higher chance that your enemies will die before you do, but in cases like this I think you really need X’s better defense.

Also, see those blue crystals that pop up throughout the levels? Those are entrances to alternate routes in the stages. Every level has one and at the end you’ll face a boss. The first time you enter one it’s Nightmare Zero, like I showed previously.

However the next time you enter you’ll have to face High Max.

Don’t do it.

Don’t even try.

High Max is 100% invulnerable to your regular weapon. The only way to damage him is with a boss’ special weapon.

Here’s the issue

First off: there’s no guarantee you’ll even have one when entering one of these portals and even if you do there’s no guarantee it’ll be effective, for example it may not have enough ammo to finish High Max off or it may just suck ass period

So what do you do in this circumstance?

You reset your console and go back to the stage select screen

I’m dead fucking serious

High Max can present you with an honest to God impossible scenario, where you’ll be locked in a room with him without being able to actually damage him, so you either get a game over or reset the console.

This WILL happen to you on your first playthrough. It WILL.

Half of the alternate path entrances are really easy to find (see the one in Infinity Mijinion’s stage), and sometimes you may even touch one accidentally. You WILL face High Max and you WILL rage at the screen for half an hour wondering what the fuck it is you’re doing wrong.

This is genuinely broken game design the likes of which I have never seen in a commercially released game past the 1980s I guess

Sonic fans bitch about Silver in 06, and yeah he’s broken on a technical level, specifically if he happens to get you stuck in a corner, but you CAN beat him, you CAN damage him, the game doesn’t just suddenly throw at you an insurmountable obstacle just because you didn’t happen to have the foresight needed to know that “Oh I’ll need X and Y to even stand a chance against this boss, silly me!”

Next time we’ll face the rest of the stages and see just how utterly incompetent, broken and just downright malicious X6′s design philosophy and game mechanics truly are.

#youtube #megaman #megaman x6 #my gameplay

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cowsaves · 2 years

Text

What Love Breeds - Ch 11

Jason has hard conversations.

Chapter 1 - Chapter 2 - Chapter 3 - Chapter 4 - Chapter 5 - Chapter 6 - Chapter 7 - Chapter 8 - Chapter 9 - Chapter 10

The screen blinks from black to his father’s face in two alarming seconds. Jason clears his throat. “Hi, Dad.”

“This better be good, Jay,” his father snarls. His tan, weathered skin is backlit by the bright Greek sun. James Shaw is difficult to hear over the crash of waves and live music that blares from the resort patio, but his familiar glare is loud and clear.

“So, um, we had the yearly review a few weeks ago.” Jason clears his throat. He adjusts the laptop’s angle in a nervous fidget.

“And?” James snaps.

“And, you remember Dressings? Van Dressings? He said - well, mentioned, that the board liked to sample farm products.”

James is unmoved. As Jason’s pause sits between them, unwanted and untouched, he repeats himself, “And?”

“He fucked one of the cows. Our newest project, actually. He implied that they - that the board would do this frequently when you were - when it was you. I just needed to know if that were true.” Jason swallows thickly.

James cocks one bushy grey eyebrow. “That’s it? Yeah, they fuck ‘em. What, are you asking if you should’ve charged? They’re the board for Christ’s sake, Jason. They can fuck them whenever they want.”

“Did you?” Jason blurts.

“Did I what?” James demands, an icy edge undercutting the question.

“Did you use them the same way the board does?” Jason asks. He knows better than this. Years of working for his father in bookkeeping, of coming home from college and rounding the business with his dad, of sitting in board meetings preparing for the eventual day he would have the position he does now; they’ve all trained him to never ask his dad a question he doesn’t want the answer to, but more importantly, one his father won’t want to answer. But the desperation wrings Jason like a rag and something inside him is imploding. He stares at his father’s ever-present scowl, and struggles to remember how to breath.

His father leans in closer to the video camera until his unblinking, unwavering facade takes up its entirety. Jason would snort if he weren’t frozen with fear. “Now listen to me, here. I never touched one of our girls. As the owner, as the founder, I couldn’t wake up the next day and respect myself. Could you?”

Jason shakes his head so briefly it’s almost imperceptible.

“Good.” James takes a second before leaning away slightly. “You don’t mix business with pleasure. You don’t. Even when the business is pleasure. It’s a line you don’t cross, impossible to come back from. At that point, the business might as well crumble under your feet. You’re finished.”

“What… What do you mean?”

James rolls his eyes. “You’ll understand when you’ve seen it happen. Randall’s Dairy came close once, in the nineties. Too close for comfort if you ask me. You remember what happened with Wayne Randall?”

“No.”

James waves his hand and brushes the story aside. “Find someone else to tell you. All that matters is, you’ve never messed around with the livestock. Right?”

Jason nods. “Yes, sir.”

“And you won’t. If you do, you’ll be out. I’ll find some other yuppy to take your position, or, Hell, call your sister up.” James laughs bitterly. “Either way, you touch one of them, and I’ll bury you in some position so far down the totem pole they won’t even recognize your name. But you knew that, because I didn’t raise an idiot,” he spits.

“Right,” Jason says before quickly correcting himself, “Right, sir.”

“Good. Get back to work.” James fumbles to slap the laptop shut, leaving Jason with his own reflection in the blank screen. His eyebags sag into his cheeks, and there’s a weary clench to his jaw. Jason reaches a trembling hand for his thermos and takes a deep sip of Essie, still warm in the cup.

As her taste passes through him, his panic ebbs, and Jason feels himself catch his breath for the first time in the last six and a half minutes. Is this what his father meant? That he grows more dependent on Essie every day? But what did Wayne Randall have to do with anything? As far as Jason remembered, Randall’s Dairy had been nothing but their fiercest and only competitor for the last forty years. They’d passed ownership down to their oldest son, Dean, a couple years before Jason took up his own father’s mantle. As Jason tries to force connections and piece together his father’s cryptic message, he feels the challenge become increasingly difficult. At the same time, he realizes he drained his thirty-two ounce thermos in a matter of minutes.

He groans and presses his face into his hands, allowing the thermos to thud onto his office rug. With his eyes closed, he sees only Essie’s face, her soft body, the swelling slosh of her breasts. He’s standing from his chair without a conscious thought, blinking through his overhead lights, and marching across the building.

As medical interns and lower-level staff part a path for Jason, he checks his wristwatch. The herd should be finishing their second meal right about now, the majority of them transitioning to a nap. Only a few will be led by handlers to the playpen, where they’ll wait in individual stalls to be called in front of the well-paying audience. If Jason remembers today’s schedule accurately, several of them will be paired off together for crowd viewing, a few have been pre-purchased for private sessions, and their best seller is up for public bid.

As he rounds into the barn doors, staff are already taking today’s roster down the hall. The cows follow blindly with foggy, distant gazes, their bodies swaying from side to side as they stumble after their command-givers. Tommy heads up the rear with Harper at his heels. Her usual aggression is gone and swept away by the slack, open-mouthed face that blindly tracks Tommy’s every step.

Tommy slows as he and Jason meet.

“Replace her with EMT299,” Jason orders. “And bring her milk. As much of it as you have.”

Tommy is momentarily taken aback before he nods and turns abruptly with Harper. Jason overlooks the herd from the open doors as Harper is trotted back into her pen and put to rest. Jason’s eyes then swing to Essie, who lies on her back and seems to play with her own fingers, twirling them between each other and giggling all the while. As Tommy comes to her pen, she hears his instruction and is blankly at his beck and call. They head back to Jason, and Tommy hands her off.

Tommy lowers his voice. “You know, Harper was going to be up for bid. That’s a lot of cash you’re losing putting Essie in with the other girls.”

“She’s not going in with them,” Jason answers definitively. “They’ll bid on her as well.”

Tommy bites his tongue for as long as he can. “You sure?” he asks eventually. “We usually demo them with each other before we give anyone the chance to bid. Works up their appetite and shows off what the girl’s like in the playpen. Essie wasn’t supposed to go on until Friday, anyway.”

“They’ll get what they need,” Jason barks. Tommy blinks.

“I’ll… I’ll bring her milk,” he says, and Jason nods gruffly. They part, Jason hauling Essie up behind the rest of the handlers and herd, and Tommy disappearing into the walk-in refrigerator, hunting down Essie’s load from that morning.

The herd and handlers approach the playpen’s entrance. Board members, investors themselves, and the rich and kinky enter through the main doorway into a viewing room. It resembles a theater with raised velvet seats and carpeted walkways, though the seats are distanced by large gaps between them. In these spaces, a privacy screen can be raised mid-show to give their audience the seclusion they require. They rise to an adequate height, measured carefully to not block anyone’s view. There is no enormous white screen at the front, after all, but a window peering directly into the plush playpen.

Beyond this public entrance to the audience’s cushioned interior and down a thin side hallway, is a door locked to anyone without a key card or the nine-digit daily passcode. This entrance leads to sealed stalls. Handlers load individual cows into their white, sterile three-by-three rooms and lock the exits behind them, though there is truly no need. Cows wait patiently in their trance for their turn, when a voice comes over the loud speaker and releases them. Handlers load the four who will enter the playpen as a group into their stalls first, then Essie in the middle. The remaining two are brought farther down the hall to customers who purchased intimate, solo sessions in private rooms. Jason assigns two handlers to observe these solo sessions through monitors, knowing they will enter if the sessions run awry.

The remaining handlers move for the playpen, where they stand at the ready as safeguards. As the handlers open and close doors behind themselves, the sound of the viewing crowd wafts in and out. Jason doesn’t have much time if he wants to get his hands on her now.

He unlocks her door with his keycard and slips off one of his shoes to prop it open. Jason stumbles in behind Essie May, wobbling unevenly into the tight space.

“Wide awake,” he breathes in her ear. Essie rouses, though her waking state isn’t much different from trance at this point. Jason takes Essie by the shoulders and spins her to face him, the motion bobbling her head and eliciting giggles.

“Hi,” she teeters before Jason can shush her.

“Be very quiet,” he says, his hands already roaming up and down her sides. She doesn’t notice her body moving with his touch, angling itself closer to him.

She nods before her eyes wander from his face back to the blank wall. When they circle around and find Jason once again, Essie says, no quieter, “Hi!”

Jason sighs and grabs hold of her jaw. “Open wide.”

Essie’s mouth drops instantly. Jason pushes his finger past her lips and he directs her to, “Suck.”

Essie goes to work, her tongue swirling around his finger and saliva peeking from the corners of her mouth. For a moment, Jason forgets where he is as his world becomes Essie and her fervor. She moans intermittently and wraps both hands around Jason’s arm, pulling him deeper down her throat. She bobs up and down as she licks him from fingernail to knuckle and squeezes her thick thighs together. Her legs are pressed all the more tightly as Jason adds his middle finger to the mix and takes a fistful of her ass with his free hand. He gropes her roughly, his breathing rising to meet Essie’s intensity, and lets a hard spank loose on her ass. Essie’s squeal is muffled by his fingers, but a tiny voice in the back of Jason’s mind warns him that the slap was plenty loud on its own.

Jason can’t care anymore. This is the only way he can have her instantly and he won’t wait until tonight. So he moves her playpen schedule up a couple days – if it gets her alone in a private room for thirty minutes, so what? As long as Tommy holds up his end of Jason’s half-assembled plan, they’ll still make more money than if they’d sent Harper. His father’s words echo in his ears. Maybe he will destroy the company. He doesn’t care. He can still feel the warmth of Essie’s milk in the bottom of his stomach. It’s all he can bare not to drink her dry in this room. Staring down at Essie, her chin glistening with drool and her eyes half-lidded with lust, Jason feels complete. This is where he’s supposed to be, and fuck everything else. If he were thinking clearly, he might realize that’s the exact sort of idiocy his father warned him about, but he’s not. He’s unzipping his pants and pushing Essie’s head down to his dick.

Essie May whines when his fingers leave her mouth, but is quick to find her next target. Her lips wrap around his already hard cock, and she takes as much of it in her mouth as she can. She bobs up and down his shaft as the precum coats her tongue and her moans echo through the holding pens. Jason takes handfuls of her hair and steadies her against his cock as he begins rocking his hips, thrusting down her throat. He stares down at her and as they rock in time with one another, he has eyes primarily for the pendulous swing of her breasts. She’s full again already, as she should be on her new and overactive meal plan. He pulls more of her hair into his grip as he wishes he were at her tits, and forces himself to stare down at her face instead. Her eyes are far-gone though her mouth moves so actively, devouring him with every pump.

Jason’s vision flashes white the longer they go. The pressure builds in his stomach, the release threatening them both. He wants to stay in this moment for another hour, for another week. The feel of her tongue working around him comes close only to the taste of her milk, the phantom flavor still lingering on his tastebuds and growing stronger with his arousal. When Jason’s getting too close to his climax, desperate to postpone the inevitable, he yanks her off. Essie protests, her mouth open and panting, her face furrowing with dismay. Instead, he positions her hands to cup her own tits together, and slides his drenched dick between them. Jason tilts her beneath him and lowers his body to allow him to fuck her tits properly, his slacks caught around his knees and putting him in an awkward position. He manages, though, and drools over Essie himself as he focuses on the push and pull of her tits around his cock. The more motion there is, the more milk beads at her nipples, and the harder Jason fucks. Essie pants with her tongue dangling loosely under him, her pussy drowning the ground beneath her. All cows are, but Essie is especially fragrant, and it pushes Jason into a frenzy as he thrusts faster than he knew he could. His head spins the more brutally he pushes himself, his breath coming in short, erratic bursts, but the pleasure electrifying him as he catches whiff after whiff of her pussy and the faint scent of her milk. As more spills from her tits, Essie palms her chest and rubs in circles, spreading her milk over her breasts and lubricating Jason’s cock, pushing him to the edge. Jason groans over her, his animalistic noises tangling with hers. All at once he comes to an end – his thighs clench into a rigid form as he slides through her silky breasts one final, delicious time. Thick streams of his cum splatter her neck and chin in tight, explosive bursts, his white stream mixing with hers. He grunts through it, and lowers himself to his knees. Jason straddles Essie with his softening dick against her stomach, both creatures catching their breaths.

Jason wheezes, “G-good girl, good girl, oh, very good girl.”

Essie moos lowly under him, momentarily frozen by the tingling that rockets from her cunt to her toes. Another gush of her wetness rolls down her thighs, a thick glob swinging from her pussy. As she releases her tits, the skin between them shiny and red where Jason moved so vigorously, she wipes her fingers through the mixture painting her chest and throat.

Essie scoops as much as she can into her mouth, swallowing eagerly. Her skin is left with nothing but the faint sheen of her product and Jason’s load as he slows his breathing on top of her.

“Good,” he appreciates. “Make yourself nice and pretty for everyone you’re about to meet.”

Essie giggles. “Wha-? Like, uh… hehe, new... friends?”

Jason chuckles. “Yeah. Something like that.”

She smiles, cum and her own fluid still shining on her lips, as Jason rights himself in the holding pen. He swipes a hand through his hair and tucks his shirt back into his slacks, fastening himself into his suit. He struggles to mash his foot into the shoe that was holding the door ajar. Once he’s frustrated enough, he careens out of the holding pen and into the hallway to use both hands on this damn boot.

He’s halfway through his laces when he notices the pair of legs standing at the other end of the hall. He looks up through his still disheveled hair, undoubtedly greased by his sweat at this point, and is face to face with Tommy.

Tommy, who carries two sealed gallons labeled ‘EMT299’, and stares. His eyes dart from Jason’s undone shoe to the stall behind him. Tommy asks, a certain gravity pulling on every word, “What’s going on, Jay?”

#what love breeds #hucow kink #ch 11

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interactivewhiteboardsupplier · 5 months

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darkestrellar · 2 years

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MYSTERIUM — SCREEN MODE

Our dangerous passions show us an endless night Whose dream will unfold here? Do the darkness and I look similar? We gambled our dangerous passions— This is our Key ad MYSTERIUM! For now, I just want to believe... But I still don't know anything!

CARNIVAL IN HARLEM — SHAYFER JAMES

There's a Carnival in Harlem Where my lady reads her gospel From a balcony of bones And I'm on my way to see her For as long as I'm without her There will be no such thing as home

DEAR FELLOW TRAVELLER — SEA WOLF

You spoke my language and touched my limbs It wasn't difficult to pull me from myself again And in our travels we found our roads You held it like a mirror, showing me the life I chose

ANEMONE — JOYWAVE

Slip fast from focus Spotlights won't notice My darkest totem If you could help me out, you could help me out

CAN YOU HEAR IT? — AVIATORS

Can you hear it? Can you hear it? The tolls of madness ringing Do you fear it? Do you fear it? An ancient choir is singing All consuming, calling to me In a dream, it's a thorn I can't dig out Can't you hear it too?

THE BOX — THRESHOLD

The storm was high on Monday When someone found the box It promised hope and future Can't tell you what it cost

WEAPONS VII — SON LUX

Put down all your weapons Let me in through your open wounds

#audio tag #songs that have been collected over time because they vibed in a more or less shadow crystal related way

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jamesgibsonwork0 · 8 months

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Buy Touch Screen Totems with Obey Touch: Revolutionizing Business Interactions

In today’s fast-paced business landscape, staying ahead requires embracing cutting-edge technology. Touch screen totems have emerged as a game-changer, transforming the way businesses interact with customers and manage operations. In this article, we explore the world of touch screen totems, with a focus on the renowned brand, Obey Touch.

#Touch screen totems

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senuassaga · 3 months

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Survival and Intensity in Senua’s Saga Hellblade II

Let’s dive into the real deal – the tech behind Senua’s Saga is seriously next-level. Those early trailers hyped us up, but seeing it on our Xbox and actually playing it? Mind-blowing. Ninja Theory aimed for that "triple A Indie" vibe, and Senua’s Saga totally proves they’re on that grind. Thanks to MetaHuman and Unreal Engine 5, Senua’s looking sharper than ever. Sometimes I was straight up fooled into thinking what I was seeing was real – the characters and environments are that crisp. Ninja Theory’s skills are on full display here. The environments are crazy detailed too, from big landscapes to tiny touches. Sunsets look epic, torchlight flickers add atmosphere – it’s all otherworldly. I’m not usually into photo modes, but I couldn’t resist snapping shots here. Plus, the lack of clutter on the screen? Refreshing. Except for Senua’s hip mirror for her special moves, it’s just you and the stunning visuals. But that’s all out there already (plus my screenshots). Thankfully, the gameplay’s on point too. You’ve got exploration, combat, and puzzles. Remember the puzzles in the first game? Kinda iffy. They’re back, but now they’re smoother to handle, just enough help to keep it flowing. There’s also new stuff, like shifting environments between realities – simple but smart. And the action-packed puzzles? Highlight reel material. Combat’s where it’s really at though. One-on-one fights are way more intense and just plain fun. They’ve nailed that vibe of surviving, not just winning. It’s like rock/paper/scissors, but with serious consequences.

Navigational Constraints in Hellblade II: Balancing Focus with Exploration

There’s a learning curve to mastering Senua’s and the enemies’ moves, but the combat is always gripping, while exploration, which can be a bit of a mixed bag, is complemented by options for purchasing PS5 games. The puzzles are cool, and the world is breathtaking, so moving through it isn’t a drag. Finding hidden totems adds to the lore, and there might be extra perks for collecting them all. But as gorgeous as it is, Senua’s Saga world is strictly linear. Invisible walls are everywhere, limiting where we can jump off a ledge, even if it looks like we should be able to. I get keeping the focus tight, but a bit more freedom to roam wouldn’t hurt. Right now, we’re mostly guided through fancy corridors, with occasional chances to break away for those totems.

Ninja Theory's Triumph: Elevating Xbox with Cutting-Edge Tech and Gripping Narrative

The story is obviously a huge deal in Senua’s Saga, and it totally nails it – no spoilers, but I was hooked the whole time. The cast’s performances are top-notch, and combined with the dope technical work, it’s a full package. Ninja Theory deserves props for tackling mental health issues head-on and breaking down stigmas. With headphones on (seriously, the best way), Senua’s inner voices really hit home, making her fears feel real. It gets you thinking about your own stuff too, which shows how Ninja Theory’s not just about atmosphere but also gameplay that’s on point. The only times I zoned out were during those slow walks where you’re just moving forward with maybe a sidekick or two. Some of these parts try to cram too much info without much action. Is that better than a long cutscene? Not sure, but even when I started to drift, I was still curious about where the story would go next. Luckily, Senua’s Saga: Hellblade II’s overall package is so strong that those slow bits don’t really matter in the grand scheme. Xbox hit the jackpot adding Ninja Theory to their lineup – it’s a showcase of killer tech, solid gameplay, and a story that grabs you. They’ve set the bar high, and I’m eager to see where they go from here.

#ninja theory

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szlightall-led · 4 months

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pokemonnovic · 5 months

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Duel Type moves, Zodiac Pokemon, and Blightboost

Note: This is an OG chapter post from the Wattpad book for archival reasons only, I plan on doing a more comprehensive rewrite in the future)

The Dranowa region is home to it's own unique mechanics that add a new challenge to battles. From moves with two typings, mysterious Pokémon that carry a mysterious aura said to have originated from out of this world, and a strange source of power that boosts the stats of Pokémon in a similar vain to Totems and Megas.

-Duel Type Moves-

First documented in the region of Dranowa, Pokemon found here have been known to learn moves capable of dealing two forms of Elemental damage. These phenomena have been labeled as Duel Type Moves.

As stated before, these unique moves are capable of dealing two types of elemental damage. Duel Type moves are just like any other Pokémon move and can be used multiple times per battle unless the user has run out of PP for it. If a Pokémon resists one of the typings but is weak to the other, they will receive a super effective hit. This move will still hit even if the foe is immune to one of the types, instead they will only receive damage for one element instead of two.

So far almost any Pokémon can learn these types of moves with a few exceptions. Some Pokémon even have Duel Type moves as their signature moves. However, a Pokémon can only know ONE Duel Type move at a time and that move will have to be deleted if you want to give it another. Duel Type moves will take up one of a Pokémon's four move slots.

On the battle screen, Duel type moves will be marked by a two divided colors, with each color corresponding to which two typings the move.

Not many Pokémon learn Duel Type moves through normal level up means, minus those with Duel Types as their signature moves (Examples include: All three starters final evolutions, all of the Space Quartet, Yggdeersil, and Seraptor), and therefor require these moves to be tutored to them using special TMs. These TMs can be obtained from many places, including being given out as a secondary TMs by Gym Leaders along with their signature TMs.

All of Dranowa's Gym Leaders will use Duel Type moves on their Ace Pokémon. It's advised that trainers come prepared if they plan on taking on the gym challenge.

Z moves will not be able to be used with Duel Type moves save for a few exceptions (Cosmosis and The Starters will be able to have their Signatures used as Z Moves)

-Zodiac Pokémon-

Following the conflict with Novatta, Pokémon with a strange aura began appearing in the Dranowa region. These Pokémon were dubbed Zodiac Pokémon and were the basis for the Dranowan Zodiac (based on the real life one). There are 12 known ones, all of which are Pokémon not originally discovered in the region:

Mareep Line (Areis)

Tauros (Taurus)

Krabby line (Cancer)

Girafairg (Gemini)

Litleo line (Leo)

Ralts line (Virgo)

Kickatot line (Libra)

Skorupti line (Scorpio)

Ponyta line (Sagittarius)

Skiddo line (Capricorn)

Panpour (Aquarius)

Feebas Line (Pisces)

Ekans line (Ophentacus)

All Zodiac form Pokémon will have either a Water, Fire, Ground, or Flying as a secondary type and all have a unique ability exclusive to Zodiac Pokémon.

Zodiac Pokémon are very elusive and only seem to appear during certain times of the year in certain places. An NPC in one of the Pokémon centers will give you a hint on what Zodiac Pokémon is currently active for that month.

-Blightboost-

A strange phenomenon found only in Dranowa and believed to be connected to the legendary Pokémon Novatta and Necromza's Starbright form.

In the past, only certain people could use Blightboost. They were called "Blighted ones" and often had a gold mark on their palms, which, when touched would trigger Blightboost. Said to have been a gift to the people from Novatta, the power was taken from the following the abuse of it by an ancient king, kickstarting a war that threatened to destroy the region at the wings of the very one who granted the very power to them. The power would be returned by Starbright Necromza, but not in the form of a special aura. Nowadays, Blightboost can only be trigged using a special stone.

In order to use Blightboost, one must come across a Blightstone, a special yellow rock that appears to glow. It will then have to be forged into a Blightband. Though most trainers who have Keystones tend to integrate the Blightstone into an upgraded Keystone (which the player will get unless the choose to their Keystone accessory into something else other than a bracelet, which then you can equip a Blightband. Z ring will always be separate)

It bares close similarities to both Mega Evolution and Totem Aura. Pokémon who undergo Blightboost get a massive boost in their stats and give off a glowing yellow aura. This effect lasts until the battle ends.

Blightboost boosts a Pokémon's stats in ascending order of lowest to highest, with the lowest getting the highest increase and highest getting the smallest increase. It does not affect the HP Stat.

Blightboost does not require a Pokémon to hold any item and can be done with any Pokémon

If a Pokémon is Blightboosted during battle, they will not be able to use any held Mega Stones nor can a Pokémon be mega evolved if a Pokémon has been Blightboosted during the same battle. Z moves are still useable however.

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