KUEC Transcripts – Episode 1

{{Title link: http://kevinandursulatranscripts.dreamwidth.org/600.html}}



It’s on Dreamwidth because I don’t trust Tumblr to handle a two-hour episode transcript when I get there, and also I understand Dreamwidth more. I’m going to try to link each episode here as I finish it, though.

Anybody wants to volunteer to help transcribe episodes, just let me know and I’ll give you posting access on Dreamwidth. I’mma be playing catch-up for a while here by my lonesome… XD

Yay! It exists!

I’m going to be kind of busy the next few days, but maybe afterward I can find time to pitch in.


#Kevin and Ursula Eat Cheap #transcripts

Refuge: A Cyberpunk Parody



1z1d0r wiped the sweat from his brow and flipped his elegant, jet-black hair. That was one more multi-trillion dollar MegaCorp down for the count. It may have taken a few hours, but never again would Antagonist Inc get away with its inhuman policies of torching rainforests, murdering Chinese dissidents, and having insufficient African American representation in its video games.

The Greatest Hack In History had only taken him forty minutes – down by six from when he pulled off The Greatest Hack In History Until Then last Tuesday, while bored in his Super Advanced HyperMath class. In fact, he’d finished so quickly that, if he went to sleep now, he could be ready and rested for his Tae Judo Fu class tomorrow morning.

Obviously, 1z1d0r was not the type of person who needed to go to school, but his strict father would be forever disappointed with him if he didn’t finish his PhD before he was 18. That left him just six months. Due to this heavy work load, he had been forced to cut back video game time to a mere five hours a day. He had been chafing under these harsh constraints, and this hack had given him a chance to let out his frustration.

However, just as he was about to shut down his razor-thin, 16-core HyperTech Infinity Premiumware laptop, with its 32GB RAM and its gigapixel display, a text editor opened on his computer screen. He paused, confused. He has never been confused before, because he was too smart for that. Yet, somehow, his machine had done something without his consent. The editor window began to fill with words: “Hi. I'm Alison Morais.” He definitely hadn’t done that. And who else would have? Nobody would dare to claim to be the long-lost relative of the famous revolutionary. As he went to shut down his clearly-compromised computer, text continued to fill the screen: “You probably don't believe me. If you're willing to risk it and find out, meet me at The Black Coffee Hat.” He finally found the correct cable, but the words stayed in his memory even as the sudden loss of power wiped them from the computer’s.

Noting the potentially compromised nature of his electronics, he set a fully analog alarm clock for 23, and wrote a paper note to put near it: “If you’re reading this, I haven’t gotten back from The Black Coffee Hat any time close to when I intended to be back by. This probably means something has gone wrong. Call me, but it’s unlikely that my phone would be working in that event, so if it isn’t, call Taymon and tell him that ‘the monkey drowned in the hamburger’.” He then unplugged his electric skateboard from the wall, put the glove with the controls on his left hand, looked contemplatingly at his usual accelerometer-and-airbag-based helmet, and left it behind in favor of borrowing the extra styrofoam helmet on the hook.

1z1d0r threw open the front door recklessly, to assert his dominance over the outside world. The girl next door was looking out her window when this happened, and her heart swooned with the unrequited love she held for our dashing protagonist. “He’s so alpha.” She sighed, dreamly. “Why won’t he ever notice me?” But what she, like many similar females, failed to realise, is that she was only an 8/10, and a man of his stature had Standards.

He then took off down the street at breakneck speeds, ignoring all the traffic rules that The Man tried to impose upon his independent spirit. He was a Rebel. If at least three people weren’t horribly injured in traffic accidents after he’d passed through, then he just hadn’t done a good enough job. Once he had run five red lights and evaded two police cruisers, he arrived outside The Black-Coffee Hat. He took off his own hat (worn over his helmet), of appropriate colour, and scanned the room. He saw several old friends and older rivals. However, he had left this part of his life behind long ago. He now wore a lighter shade of grey.

He continued his scan. Power strips, all full. A water dispenser, with hot water heated by … something. It wasn’t quite clear what. A 3D-printer, with a tip jar next to it and a sign warning him in 72-point Liberation Serif that “Mugs printed with this printer are not suitable for hot beverages!”. A small tree, some of its branches covered with colorful yarn, and … wait. Was there someone sitting behind the tree? There wasn’t even a table behind the tree the last time he was here.

A hand waved to him from behind the tree. Potentially “Alison”’s! He headed towards it, cautiously. Once he was close enough, the person behind the tree grabbed the collar of his shirt and pulled. He almost tripped while heading towards the table. Once he was no longer focused on keeping his footing, a feat nobody without extensive training in Tae Judo Fu would have been able to manage, he took a seat and looked at his mysterious host.

The first thing he noticed was that this was the most beautiful woman he’d ever met. After that, he noticed a few comparatively-minor details: Dark skin of a tone typical to (among other regions) the Caribbean, matching her claimed identity. Short hair, clearly cut that way to avoid any attempt to grab it. A T-shirt, bearing an image of a 3D-printed car and the caption “Would You Download A CAR???”. A 3D-printed Chai symbol, which he knew was a Jewish symbol meaning “alive” or “living” (he had, as a self-study project, learned about every religion last year) on what appeared to be a purposefully-flimsy necklace chain. “Hello,” she said. It was, in his opinion, one of the most beautiful pieces of poetry ever written, worthy of being decorated illuminated-manuscript-style and framed on a wall.

“Hello,” 1z1d0r returned in commanding yet friendly tone. He was careful to keep his gaze focussed on her luxuriant eyes, rather than letting it wonder over her equally luxuriant figure. “What can I do for you?”

“Well, I’m sure you recognise my name.” Alison began, and 1z1d0r nodded. “In that case, you should know where I’m from. My country’s really obscure. You probably haven’t heard of it … by name, that is. It appears in your textbooks as the country of [Redacted].”

1z1d0r flinched, but immediately chided himself for doing so. Someone as Alpha as him couldn’t be seen to fear The Name. He recovered with an effortless shrug. “Yeah, I know about that place. Had a revolution a few years ago. Pretty threatening one, too. So we dropped a few A-bombs and sunk the rotten commie bast- I mean brave, martyred revolutionaries.”

Alison raised a single, perfectly-sculpted eyebrow. “Quite. Anyway, I am nothing like my family. I’m a progressive techno-libertarian crypto-anarchist.”

“As am I.” 1z1d0r nodded, realising that this woman’s choice of Perfectly Correct political positions made her not only the most beautiful, but also to smartest woman he’d ever met. She wasn’t one of the sheeple, like that 8/10 who lived next door.

Alison nodded. “Of course. I read your file. That’s how I knew you were the perfect man for the job. I need your help. Agents of RepubliCorp have been trying to track me down and make sure I die just like the rest of my family. My grandfather’s dying wish was for me to be able to live safely and freely in a new land, which is why he had me smuggled out the day before the bombs dropped. RepubliCorp wants to put an end to his legacy and, with it, my life. They are the reason why the history books won’t even mention my country’s name. The only way I can ever be safe again is if we can take it down. In exchange, I can give you access to all the most important secrets my grandfather was hiding which made killing him so important in the first place. Are you with me?”

“Of course I’ll protect you, Alison.” 1z1d0r said warmly, projecting his masculine charm. He was so alpha that Alison managed to blush in spite of her dark skin. “How could I refuse such a mission? From the most beautiful and intelligent woman in the world. And, obviously, as the most handsome and brilliant man in the world, no one could be better suited to the job.”

“Oh, 1z1d0r!” Alison swooned. “I knew I could count on you!”

1z1d0r stood with all the grace that was to be expected of a double-black-belt Tae Judo Fu practitioner. “Let’s blow this joint.”

He took Alison by the hand and led her out the café and into the rain. It was a dark and stormy night. Alison looked up into 1z1d0r’s ferociously loving eyes. She drowned in his limpid pools of mud. Very attractive mud. She leaned forward and placed a kiss on 1z1d0r’s lips, and he kissed back with all the intensity of a freight-train heading for a train-wreck of a sentence. 1z1d0r was filled with excitement at the knowledge that this was a woman who could match his brilliance. Alison was wet. From the rain. They both were, actually. However, that was fine, because 1z1d0r’s FutureTech Astatine skateboard was 100% waterproof while it wasn’t charging. They stood embracing under the silver light of the full moon until the rain petered out. However, the storm of emotions within them would live on.

And that is the 200% legit, no bullshit, True Story™ of how Ilzo and I started dating.

Written by @sinesalvatorem and @ilzolende

Can confirm, am now internet-dating an Alison.

(Am not actually male, but we decided it made sense for the genre.)


#storytime #anything that makes me laugh this much deserves a reblog #long post

Further Jewish Bus Stop Adventures


Yesterday, while waiting for the bus, I listened to some music. Certain songs feel good to me in a way that makes listening to them a lot like stimming, so I’ll often play them on repeat. Yesterday I played Sheyn Vi Di Levone, as covered by Gevolt. I closed my eyes and hummed along quietly.

Or, at least, I thought I did. About 20 minutes later I was headbanging while singing loudly in Yiddish. I know this because a piece of snow fell from the top of the bus stop and landed in my hair, snapping me out of it. Then I looked around and everyone was staring.

Me: “Why are you staring?”

Guy: “We just listened to you summon demons from beyond time by screaming in a dreadful and most ancient tongue.”

Me: “Oh, shit. I was singing out loud, wasn’t I?”

Guy: “That was singing? You weren’t loudly declaring your intention to kill us all while choking on the bones of small children?”

Me: “Well, I was singing in Yiddish, so it probably sounded that way…”

Guy: “Yiddish? As in that Jewish language? So, was that a prayer to bring on the apocalypse? Cuz if so, I would appreciate five days notice to convert. What’s the name of your death chant, anyway?”

Me: “Sheyn vi di Levone.”

Guy: “Does that mean ‘vengeful rivers of blood’?”

Me: “Nah, you’re thinking of Passover. ‘Sheyn vi di Levone’ means ‘as beautiful as the moon’. It’s a love song.”

Guy: “…Dude, if that’s what your love songs are like, I understand why you only marry each other.”


#Judaism #anything that makes me laugh this much deserves a reblog


Alison for Space Empress 2k16




@sinesalvatorem‘s campaign-ad speech here deserves to be dramatically read, so I did it in my best comforting, authoritative newscaster voice which isn’t especially comforting or authoritative.

This message has been approved by Humans For A Transhuman Tomorrow; Alison Morais’ Super PAC.


#anything that makes me laugh this much deserves a reblog


Inquisitivefeminist: We should fuck in the midst of a field of wheat. Degenerafy it.

InqFem: Also you should definitely yell “Invade me harder”

Me: It shall be done, Mein Fuhrer!

InqFem: oh god

InqFem: Okay wait

InqFem: I’m the SJW

InqFem: If anything, you are the Hitler in this relaitionship

Me: I can’t be. You’re the Dom.

Me: And, out of the two of us, who exactly would like to lock up and torture Jews?



#(there is context for this but the funny bit you don’t need context for) #anything that makes me laugh this much deserves a reblog #Holocaust cw #Nazi cw

inquisitivefeminist asked: I looked into the mirror with my incandescent green eyes that sparkle like diamonds and sighed, because I, Aretta Susan Waterfall, was not beautiful.


In fact, my porcelain skin and 24 carat gold hair (ethically mined in Guinea-Bissau) were so hideous that all the boys in my class asked me out three times a day out of sheer pity.


#Lyttle Lytton ask meme #anything that makes me laugh this much deserves a reblog

brin-bellway asked: Re: “this [Hannibal post] needs a cw but I’m not sure what”, I suspect the Hannibal tag acts as a pretty good content warning in itself. Tumblrites pretty well know what to expect with Hannibal, and have had quite a while to blacklist accordingly.


Is this true, Tumblrites?

…damn, I forgot to throw in some wiggle room about “generally” and “most” and “in my experience” and all that.

*watches as this inevitably finds the one fragment of Tumblr that doesn’t have a sufficiently clear idea of what to expect with Hannibal*

(Wiggle room/acknowledgement-that-other-people-are-not-like-me-and-may-have-different-experiences is the first thing to go when I’m having even the slightest bit of trouble with language. Usually I can manage it in writing, but in speech I frequently neglect it and it makes me look like I have less theory of mind than I do. I’ve lost count of how many times Mom has admonished me to bear in mind that not everyone is like me, usually during occasions when I had thought of that but the thought got lost on the way to my mouth.)


#reply via reblog #that excuse for communication called speech

SCC Prompt Set #166

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What are some advantages of BDSM and D/s fiction?

You can get dark.  In real life BDSM, we play with the idea of non-consensual relationships, or completely one-sided ones, but we all know that at the end of the day, you’re talking about two people consensually exchanging power and caring for one another.  That’s the way it should be, but when you’re just reading to get off, you can make it really twisted without the same moral problems.

Also, I’m a mind control fetishist, so fiction allows for some fantasy scenarios that simply could not happen in real life.  

What are the risks?

Getting confused as heck.  When I was 14 and found hypnokinky erotica for the first time, I assumed that the fact that I was turned on by these fantasies meant that I wanted them in real life, even though I knew them to be abhorrent.  Plus, these websites often had disclaimers, saying that these were fantasies only and that acting on them meant you were sick.  I didn’t know that they were referring really to the non-consensual aspects, and that there was a way to satisfy these urges without running off a moral cliff.

So when fiction becomes predominant, and there aren’t counter-messages of what consensual BDSM looks like, it can be a real humdinger to work through it all.

These days, I actually bristle at so-called consensual BDSM porn.  First of all, it doesn’t do much for me; I get all that in real life.  Second of all, it comes off as moralizing, and that’s incongruous with writing that’s supposed to get people off.  Third of all, then you get the likes of 50 Shades of Grey.  The reason I hate that series is twofold: 1) It presents a creepy, messed-up relationship as consensual BDSM, making all its mistakes and insinuations about what it means to be kinky all the more messed up.  2) It has become a cultural reference point to refer to kink, and that shit IS NOT ME.

TL;DR: Kinky fiction is fun, but you have to learn the skills to separate reality from fantasy from BDSM play through other means, and misinformation or confusion can spread in the meantime.



I wonder how much of it coming off as moralizing is because of you not being into it? I’m having trouble thinking of moralizing examples, but then my reaction when I first discovered consensual hypno-kink erotica was “oh my god, where have you been all my life”. It’s very possible that the only reason I’m not rolling my eyes at stories trying to get all their ethical ducks in a row is because I happen to genuinely prefer ethical situations in my porn, right down to my id, and so I feel kindly disposed towards it.

(Or possibly I just haven’t read any of the really moralizing ones, especially since I still don’t have a better means of obtaining porn that at least sort of fits my tastes than “wander through seas of non-con and occasionally hit one by blind luck” (or the indirect word-of-mouth version, “wander through seas of recs for non-con and occasionally hit a rec by blind luck”).)



Reblogging for finding other people who like consensual (even romantic) hypnokink erotica. We do exist!

(Also, the moralizing stuff does exist and it’s just exhausting.)



We do exist indeed!



yes yes yes

too much dubcon turns me off

and there are ways to slip in consent that aren’t awkward




I..seem to have accidentally hijacked your post, diaryofasnowflake. Sorry about that.

(Don’t get me wrong, I’m glad to hear from the rest of you guys, and maybe we can get together and talk recs sometime, but I’m not sure if this thread is the right place to do it.)


#reply via reblog #sexuality and lack thereof

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