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he's quite legitimately the best looking Ferengi. it never made sense to me that he was the owner of a middle of nowhere dive bar when he should be a filthy rich supermodel back on Ferenginar
Well guys, my Cad Bane fic is done. After five years, five books, and 500,000 words, the “Sex, Drugs, and Blasters” saga is over. I’m sure many of you here in the little Bane fandom have probably come across it on AO3. Maybe you read it, maybe you haven’t, maybe you read a bit of it and then got lost along the way. To anyone who gives it a chance, thank you. I started writing it when I was 17. I’ve gone back and edited the earlier books a lot. I’ve become a much better writer along this journey, but I know I still have far to go.
Anyways, if you’re interested in a Cad Bane slow burn, enemies to lovers, epic longfic with plenty of drama and smut, but also heart, give it a read. Or if you tried to read it in the past but dropped it, maybe take a look again. It’s brought me so much joy to share it with you guys. My AO3 is linked in my pinned post, but I’ll link it here, too.
i hate that diet culture means all the tasty drinks everywhere are loaded with stevia now. this isn't even a stance about health, I just think it tastes so fucking bad
It actually pisses me off in general bc several studies have shown that alternative sweeteners STILL cause insulin issues because your body releases it based on the TASTE of sugar, not the specific molecule.
On top of that a lot of the sweeteners, like monkfruit, are horribly extra sweet so it still fucks with insulin AND it tastes like shit and we'd be better off just titrating our threshold for sugar down to something more reasonable.
SOME people need sugar-free options and SOME people want calorie free options but in the vast majority of situations, alternative sugars are worse for us than just regular sugar. The issue is moderation.
as a type 1 diabetic with a sweet tooth, there is some misinformation in this post. (no hate, I don't think it was intentional.)
monk fruit doesn't fuck with blood sugar levels at all. nor does stevia nor aspartame nor sucralose nor ethyritol. I am thankful every day of my life for these substances, which have drastically improved my quality of life. of these, in my opinion, monk fruit tastes the best.
a sweet taste has been found to release a tiny, basically negligible, little spritz of insulin but that's all. there is no research showing anything other than a very mild effect. insulin response doesn't start until the sugar starts entering your bloodstream. as someone who has been very very closely monitoring my blood sugar for upwards of 30 years now, this is most definitely the case. it's the reason they tell you to take your insulin shot about 15 minutes before you start eating.
a sweetener I do have an issue with is malitol, which is not sugar but raises your sugar nearly as much as table sugar. I think it's an absolute crime that this is what's in most sugar-free candies, like the russell stovers and Hershey's and Reese's candies you see in the grocery store.
there was also a period of time when the popular myth was that agave syrup didn't raise blood sugar, which is most definitely a lie.
that said for most normal people, you may as well just have small amounts of regular sugar as none of these chemicals taste as good.
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I saw this on Facebook and had to look it up. It really happened, albeit the details are different. From Homesteading Space: The Skylab Story:
"On the evening of MD-46, I finally played the trick that had been in work for over two month," said Garriott. "It even had the flight controllers puzzled for twenty-five years! My objective was to pretend that my wife, Helen, had come up to Skylab to bring us a hot meal, even though this was an obvious impossibility. Here is how the scheme worked. I recorded her voice on my small hand-held tape recorder before flight, pretending to have a brief conversation with a Capcom, with time gaps for his replies. The Capcom would be my only accomplice, but his role would be carefully disguised.
It was also necessary to have some recent event mentioned to validate the currency of the dialogue, so it would seem it could not have been recorded before fight. The short dialogue is printed below in its entirety. I knew that both Bob Crippen and Karl Henize were going to be Capcoms for Skylab, so they were brought into the planning, given the script and rehearsed on their timing. They kept the short script on a piece of paper in their billfolds, awaiting the right moment.
"For our flight in August-September, there would be many occasions of natural disasters involving forest fires or hurricanes, which would be widely known throughout the United States. So a few comments about one or the other were made on the tape. This led to four different scripts being recorded, one for each of the two Capcoms and one each for the two natural events. I would play the tape on the normal air-to-ground voice link with my wife's recorded voice and the Capcom would respond as if totally surprised by the female interloper."
Near the end of one period of voice contact Garriott said to the ground, "I'll have something for you on the next pass, Bob." Crippen replied, "Roger that, Owen." Then quietly and surreptitiously, he reviewed the brief script that had been in his pocket for all these weeks. Soon after coming into voice range, the ground heard this voice on the standard air-to-ground link:
Skylab (a female voice): "Gad, I don't see how the boys manage to get rid of the feedback berween these speakers.... Hello Houston, how are you reading me down there? (s sec. pause) Hello Houston, are you reading Skylab?"
Capcom: "Skylab, this is Houston. We heard you alright, but had difficulty recognizing your voice. Who do we have on the line up there?"
Skylab: "Hello Houston. Roger. Well I haven't talked with you for a while. Isn't that you down there, Bob? This is Helen, here in Skylab. The boys hadn't had a good home cooked meal in so long, I thought I'd bring one up. Over"
Capcom: "Roger, Skylab. Someone's gotta be pulling my leg, Helen. Where are you?"
Skylab: "Right here in Skylab, Bob. Just a few orbits ago we were looking down on those forest fires in California. The smoke sure covers a lot of territory, and, oh boy, the sunrises are just beautiful! Oh oh..... See you later, Bob. I hear the boys coming up here and I'm not supposed to be on the radio."
"Then quiet returned to the voice link, but we were told later, Bob Crippen had lots of questions coming his way in the Control Center," Garriott said. "What was going on? Where was this voice coming from? Bob must have been a very good actor, because he claimed complete ignorance and innocence of how it happened. Everyone heard it coming down on the air-to-ground loop. The whole two-way conversation sounded like a perfectly normal dialogue. No breaks or gaps, and they all heard Bob respond in real time. Could I have recorded Helen's voice on a 'family conversation' from our home? Yes, but there was no recent one. How would she have known about the fires, or who was to be on Capcom duty and how could she respond to Bob's comments in real time, as everyone could hear?
"No one ever worked out how this was accomplished. Finally, at our twenty-fifth reunion celebration in Houston in 1998, and with many of the flight directors and controllers present and still with no clue as to how it was done, I described it all as above. My prejudiced opinion is that this was the best 'gotcha' ever perpetrated on our friendly flight controllers!"
Crippen recalled: "That was kind of a fun trick. There was head rubbing.
Everybody in the MOCR, or the control room, was looking like, What the hell is going on?' We did a good job. It was fun. Working those missions got to be tough. We did all kinds of things to try to come up with levity. That was a nice one that the crew got that the ground control didn't know about."
Taalo Ings - the writer and avid literature snob, writing buddy cop/crime novels under many different pen names. Never mention Blasto in the same room with him.
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But I don't WANT to do it myself, Perihelion sulked.
SecUnit lay on its bunk. It interlaced its fingers on its chest and rolled its eyes. Now you’re just whining.
I am doing no such thing! My expectation is completely reasonable! I just want it to work!
SecUnit established a connection with Pohl’s Wayfarer. It was an automated rest stop orbiting a rogue moon, a respite along a shipping route where humans could stop to eat and rest, or bot pilots to refuel and repair. It also boasted a complete exterior maintenance array. Or rather, it did, but the machine intelligence that ran it was gone.
Squashed like a bug, SecUnit confirmed. Maybe a bot pilot didn’t like the service.
So it had to ruin it for everyone else? Perihelion paused, considering a terrible possibility. Familiar behavior. Perhaps also Holism’s work. Maybe it planned this.
You’re giving it too much credit, SecUnit replied, though the rusty brown dust coating two thirds of Perihelion’s hull and clogging half its sensors truly was Holism’s work. A routine rendezvous to transfer custody of Three had resulted in a spat which ended in munitions fire. As a parting shot, or in lieu of having an actual argument, as Perihelion put it, Holism fired its railgun at a nearby puffball asteroid with the consistency of fresh snow. The impact did not damage Perihelion, only coated it in an annoying and messy red powder.
Can you imagine anything more immature? Perihelion obsessed afterwards. As a matter of fact SecUnit could, and it would look a lot like Perihelion nonstop pouting and moping until it became so insufferable the crew finally consented to let it divert course to Pohl’s Wayfarer to use the ship wash. A twenty six hour detour ensued, only to find that it was out of order. SecUnit could feel Perihelion’s rage rippling at the edges of the feed, crisp and crackling.
Don’t underestimate Holism’s malevolence and foresight, it glowered. It must be so pleased with itself knowing I’m out here looking like a corporate refuse hauler, and with no recourse.
Like I said, the inputs are wide open, SecUnit pointed out. You can puppet it and run it manually.
With NO recourse, Perihelion repeated.
For fuck’s sake, ART.
YOU’RE for fuck’s sake, Perihelion snapped. It’s hardly worth doing if I have to do it myself.
What? That’s like me falling in mud then saying it’s not worth showering if I have to turn on the water.
Would you find showering as pleasant if you had to BE the water? Perihelion went silent for .75 seconds. I was … looking forward to it, is all. I just wanted something nice.
It sounded so pathetic and defeated. SecUnit sighed.
Fine, it said. I’ll do it.
You’ll do what?
I’ll run it, SecUnit said. Shut up and pull into the hangar.
***
The hangar was a massive C-shaped structure that could accommodate several ships at once. Each stall had several bays worth of drones equipped with cleaning supplies: compressed air hoses, gravity vacuums, giant flexible fan-shaped pads, wheels of some sort of filament, spools of netting, ultrasonic vibration pads, and swarms of small, soft scrubbers that sprayed an optional polishing foam. SecUnit took full admin control of it all.
Do you have any modules for this? SecUnit asked, trying to ignore the waves of weird excitement coming from Perihelion in the feed. It was so happy SecUnit offered to do this. No idea what I’m doing.
Start with the electrostatic net. It will remove the bulk of the dust.
SecUnit unspooled the net. Once free it cast itself out and over the ship, wrapping itself around it like a captured ocean fauna. Something warm twinged in SecUnit’s organics upon the unexpected sensation of holding the whole of Perihelion, its usually diffuse presence condensed into a tangible shape. It was different, somehow, than physically handling a drone iteration. Perihelion’s transport form was the shape of safety, of a friend and a home, known so well but never before touched.
SecUnit activated the net. The metallic portion of the dust lifted off the hull. SecUnit felt an odd empty pang as the net unwrapped itself, taking the dust with it.
Perihelion sighed and draped around SecUnit in the feed. Thank you.
Don't thank me yet, you're still pretty dirty. Let’s try these.
SecUnit powered up the fan-shaped pads. There were five to a drone, placed in a star formation rotating around an axis. SecUnit then opened up a simple simulator in their shared processing space. It raided Perihelion's asset library and grabbed an exact render, down to every plate, bolt, vent, and join. It rotated the asset, zoomed in and out to the finest detail. Around this it placed Pohl’s Wayfarer’s monitor feeds and additional camera angles from drones.
You're certainly seeing all of me, it said, bemused.
How the hell else am I supposed to do this?
Perihelion leaned on SecUnit in the feed as it touched a spinning pad drone to the very tip of the transport’s stern and pressed down, the pads sliding along its cool sloping hull, wiping away non-metallic dust and grit. It turned to the window just in time to see it covered by a pad, briefly blocking the light from a nearby star. It went in with a fleet of the spinning pads, then sent the small soft scrubbers to get into Perihelion’s vents and exhausts. The filament was next, running itself between panels and joins to pick up the dust there.
Perihelion was silent during the procedure except to offer occasional guidance. There was a deep, rounded sensation in the feed that SecUnit gradually realized was contentment - a nice change after days of the transport’s befouled mood. SecUnit was reminded of the Mensah family’s feline house fauna, which had once hopped into its lap and laid there heavily. When Amena taught SecUnit to gently stroke him along his back, he rose into the touch and rumbled, pressing his two front feet over and over into its thigh. Perihelion didn’t rumble but SecUnit could sense it rising into touch the same way.
Intrigued, SecUnit lowered an ultrasonic vibration pad to where the roof of the bridge curved upwards into Perihelion’s hull. Nothing there needed to be vibrated off, but if theory served, it would be like scratching the back of a cat’s neck.
How wonderfully unnecessary, Perihelion purred, and sleepily nuzzled it in the feed.
SecUnit’s mouth nearly quirked up into a grin, but it quickly degraded into self consciousness. Yes, it was unnecessary. Why did Perihelion have to say it? Now SecUnit didn’t know how to respond.
Emotion sigil: fistbump, SecUnit sent after little to no deliberation. After a .24 second’s perplexed pause Perihelion returned it. So they were cool, it figured.
The soft scrubbers were hard at work at some sort of vent on Perihelion’s aft underside, at the midpoint between the rear fusion drives. It was quite stubbornly jammed with dust, having taken the most direct hit from the asteroid.
SecUnit frowned and consulted the render. The vent housed something called a gravitic resonator, a research instrument Perihelion used when looking at stellar phenomena. It was a fluid filled lens that sat at the bottom of a two and a half meter deep pipe which rested against the transport's hull. It was filled to the brim with hard-packed debris.
The size of the housing did not work well with the tools at hand - too big for the soft scrubbers and filament, and too small for the fan pads. The electrostatic netting had already proven itself ineffective, though SecUnit was tempted to try again. Despite itself it had enjoyed the sensation of cradling Perihelion in its entirety.
Use the gravity vacuum, the transport suggested languidly. I’ll be so pleased to resume operation of the resonator.
What does it do?
The gravitic resonator is a long-range metric analysis instrument designed to detect and interpret curvature gradients, mass distortions, and relativistic tidal harmonics across interstellar distances.
And then, after a pause:
Its resonance feedback architecture permits direct experiential interpretation of complex gravitic structures.
SecUnit considered this. It lets you feel wormholes?
More or less.
SecUnit recalled a conversation the two of them had on their first trip together, when they were first getting acquainted. Perihelion had difficulty adjusting to the notion that SecUnit disliked its function, and kept pressing the issue, going on and on about how unfathomable it was to hate one’s purpose seeing how much it loved its own.
Fine, great, good for you! SecUnit finally burst, exasperated. What's so amazing about staring into space?
Perihelion shared with it a massive spring blossom of a supernova in the midst of collapsing into a pulsar, but it was more than an image, it was layers upon layers upon layers of data, so much that it would overwhelm SecUnit’s processors to parse, but it was more than layers of impossible to parse data, it was a physical sensation. The supernova was supple and leather-cool in some places, warm and embracing in others, slippery and delicate as a spiderweb at the furthest reaches, all concentrated around a beckoning hot center, pulsing like a heartbeat and pulling, pulling, pulling. SecUnit gasped and cried out, immediately pushing the packet away to avoid a shutdown.
That's what's so amazing about staring into space, the transport had said smugly.
Is that why you were in such a shitty mood? SecUnit now asked. You couldn’t feel the stars?
It moved the vacuum into the resonator housing and powered it up. It was supposed to draw debris inward using microgravity gradients, but the dust was quite stubbornly packed in. It needed a hit from the ultrasonic vibrator to loosen things up.
Holism’s sore loser nature did interfere with my research into several fascinating stellar phenomena. It is a fair observation that this contributed to my “shitty mood,” as you put it, Perihelion said. Imagine if your internal media playback were fatally inhibited.
SecUnit's eyes widened in horror.
Let's fix that right now, it said.
Please, Perihelion replied. Please, please.
SecUnit could have picked up the ultrasonic pad and moved it, but something wild overtook it. It set the vibration to mid power and dragged the pad slowly and teasingly stern to aft, then along the port side, and down the ventral hull to the housing.
Oh my, Peihelion whispered, reacting again like Mensah's feline and pressing into the feeling. SecUnit felt an odd but not unpleasant glow begin to spread in its organic parts.
You like that, SecUnit said as it wrapped the vibrator around the stalk-like pipe. It positioned the gravity vacuum ready at the opening.
It's - Perihelion began to reply, but SecUnit switched the vibrator to full strength. The debris immediately began to loosen. It powered on the vacuum.
Yes, get it out, Perihelion begged, wrapping itself around SecUnit in the feed. Please, please get it out.
Heat flushed across SecUnit's face. It worked the vacuum gently around the entrance, then deep into the stalk, sucking the dust out of the entire two and a half meter length until the instrument was clear. It nodded and switched off the vacuum and vibrator.
Excellent, Perihelion sighed.
No problem, SecUnit replied, but its brow furrowed. The asset indicated that the sensor was supposed to be a convex fluid-filled lens, but this was a concave, deflated mess, like a popped blister. SecUnit filled with dread.
ART, I … I think something's wrong with it, it said.
No, it's - Perihelion paused, like it needed to catch its breath - it's a protective mechanism. The ocular fluid has drained into a reservoir beneath the mounting bezel. It will gradually refill now that the blockage is cleared.
How long will that take?
About fourteen hours.
SecUnit felt a cold dismay at the thought of being without media for fourteen hours, especially after already having been without media for multiple days. It was unacceptable. It double checked the asset, just to be sure of something.
Or, it said. It switched the vacuum to low power.
What are you do - Perihelion started to ask, but stopped short when SecUnit slid the vacuum down to the base of the pipe to sit flush with the bezel, gently drawing fluid back into the lens.
Perihelion gave a ragged gasp and arched. Brilliant - brilliant - the transport stammered as the sensor rapidly filled. It tried to complete a sentence but kept hitting a syntax error. It twisted around SecUnit.
Stupid, SecUnit chided. It held the mouth of the vacuum firmly in place but gently moved the tube up and down, increasing the suction until the resonator was full. Fourteen hours my ass, SecUnit said proudly.
For emphasis, it dragged the mouth of the vacuum across the surface of the now fully engorged sensor. Perihelion moaned a packet of pleasure-garbled code, tightening and pulsing against SecUnit. More and more of Perihelion flooded the space, abandoning concurrent processes. Sixty eight percent of it and growing, focused with pinpoint concentration on the throbbing resonator.
A wave of heat rippled up through SecUnit’s organics. It slowly massaged the vacuum back and forth over the slick convex surface. Perihelion whimpered.
What's going on? SecUnit asked Something … weird?
Seventy two percent. It attempted to reply. As it turned out speech now took seventy four percent.
Something dumb, Perihelion finally managed. Such an advanced instrument, undone by a cleaning appliance.
SecUnit considered this. The gravitic resonator is picking up on the gravity aspect of the gravity vacuum?
Perihelion clenched warmly around it. Mmm-hm.
And you’re enjoying that?
Yes.
What’s…what’s it…like? SecUnit asked haltingly.
Seventy eight percent. Perihelion’s grip turned to warm honey around the edges. It pulsated, fondling sweet little pathways into SecUnit wherever it could find them. SecUnit’s eyelids fluttered.
It’s beautiful, Perihelion breathed. Like observing a perfect wormhole, but the wormhole is right here … it’s … hot...and silky… and it’s inside me.
Oh, SecUnit replied. Wow.
It was tempted to ask to ride Perihelion’s inputs, but it knew they would fry its brain. Instead it held its breath and leaned back into the transport’s rapture, working the vacuum harder and harder in circles around the sensor. Perihelion surrounded it, purring and beating like a heart, in total thrall to SecUnit’s movements.
SecUnit detected a flare of energy. Perihelion was spinning up its singularity drive. SecUnit held back panic as it realized the drive system thought the transport was about to enter an actual wormhole.
ART!
Hm?
Not here. You’ll blow Pohl’s Wayfarer apart.
Can’t stop, it replied deliriously. We’re going in.
The potential energy built exponentially towards an acceleration event. SecUnit had only moments to act. So it did.
You're - you're hacking me!? Perihelion exclaimed, breathless and outraged. You're hacking my systems?
SecUnit didn't reply. Perihelion’s defenses were already debilitated with pleasure, so it put the drive system into submission with little to no resistance. However the potential energy still needed somewhere to go. Thinking fast it rerouted power to the nearest system, the stabilizers, and turned the vacuum to full power to make sure it was properly discharged.
Petihelion did not have a head, nor did it have eyes, but it threw its head back and went crosseyed. The transport ejaculated nonsensical code and madly thrust against SecUnit, desperately grinding out the redirected power in wave after furious wave, shuddering from aft to stern and back again.
Glasses fell off their shelves in the crew lounge. Tarik’s freshly made sandwich dropped off the counter. Turi messed up their lipliner. The main feed lit up like a midwinter festival.
What the hell? Martyn sent.
???? sent Seth.
Peri? Iris asked. What's going on?
But Perihelion did not reply.
You okay? SecUnit asked Perihelion privately.
It took the transport a moment to respond. It had melted around SecUnit, settling in piles like thick hot syrup. When it finally replied it was in the form of a long, uninterrupted line of “fistbump" emotion sigils.
Good, SecUnit said. We’ll just ignore that you almost killed everyone on the station.
Yes, let's ignore that, Perihelion garbled.
No need to worry, SecUnit sent in the main chat. Just doing a quick diagnostic on the stabilizers.
At the ship wash? Seth asked.
SecUnit did not have a good response to this, so it merely sent: Affirmative. Stabilizers are stable.
Same can't be said of my lunch, Tarik replied.
Emotion sigil: prayer hands, emotion sigil: sandwich, Perihelion sent, then flowed around SecUnit and settled heavily upon it. It curled against it in a funny way that SecUnit realized was embarrassment.
I did not intend to nearly cause a mass casualty event, it said sheepishly. Thank you for stopping me. I can take over from here if you want.
SecUnit shook its head. No, you need to be detailed properly.
Oh. It felt a wave of something from Perihelion, like it would be blushing if it had skin.
You’ve needed a deep clean for a while.
Implying I'm slovenly?
SecUnit rolled its eyes as it unrolled the electrostatic net.
Implying we ought to stop at stations with exterior maintenance arrays more often. If you want. Purely for upkeep purposes. It paused. And so long as you draw down the singularity drive beforehand.
Ah, Perihelion said, curling harder into SecUnit. Yes. I would like that. I … apologize…if I was insufferable the past few days.
You were, SecUnit confirmed and drew the net around it, holding Perihelion close once more.
There was a brief feeling of absence; the transport was absorbed in an enthusiastic conversation with one of its humans. SecUnit elected not to think too hard about this as they nestled together and scrolled through their media library. It began running filament between Perihelion's plating and sprayed the hull with polishing foam as the transport settled in to examine a distant magnetar.
Down in the crew lounge Iris spat out her drink.
Fin
also available here:
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
turning the safety catch on and off like i'm clicking a pen until everyone gets really mad at the noise but no one says anything because i have a gun and they don't
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When your crusty brother shows up on your mother’s deathbed 20 years after he inexplicably disappeared and forced you to step up for your struggling family when you were still just a child
Maybe she was too tired, or she was getting sentimental. Any other time, she would laugh at him for believing in monsters under his bed, whene there was enough of them in the real world. She would slap him for crying out for her And then pouting when she came running.
Instead, she gave him her old blaster - small enough to fit under his pillow.
For bimonthly bingo, themes COMFORT FROM NIGHTMARE, BOUNTY HUNTER CULTURE and KID BOBA
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