#At least not manually loop there... At least this is how I see it but alas whatevs

[torchstelechos]

Hmm, so Siffrin really fears rejection at the heart of the issue. Which I can only assume is why the loops looped during what they considered "rejections" whether their own or others, specifically him looping during bad touch (Isabeau rejects Siffrin) and the sus event (Siffrin rejecting Odile) etc etc.

[thefreakandthehair]

@eddiemonth prompt, oct 12th: Soulmates | Eight - Sleeping at Last | Perceptive a/n: steddie, soulmates au (phillia + eros). eddie & jeff as platonic soulmates, stobin soulmates mentioned always. un-betaed because I’m challenging myself to write these in under an hour. read on ao3 | link to masterpost on ao3

Soulmates, Eddie scoffs to himself as he doodles in his notebook at the back of the coffee shop. Bullshit. 

He knows it’s actually not, that people walk around every day hand-in-hand with beautiful, swirling tattoos that grow in intricacy and detail the more time they spend with their soulmate. Most days, Eddie doesn’t mind that the simple snake design on the inside of his wrist never so much as slithers, but today? Today, he minds. 

Dating in the world of soulmates is challenging. He tries to just focus on how feels, on if the person sitting across from him is compatible with his lifestyle, on if there’s any kind of spark, but it’s inevitable that at some point, both he and his date look down at their wrists to find nothing. 

His coffee date had gone well enough but, like always, was a dead-end. How many paths can one person try before the destination seems moot? 

So he sits and scribbles in his notebook, hoping that perhaps staying in the coffee shop rather than returning home to the apartment he shares with Jeff will provide some inspiration. That tattoo, the one that’d started as a small star on his ankle, has grown into a whirling galaxy since moving in with Jeff– a philia connection if he’s ever seen one. But if his eros tattoo won’t build upon itself naturally, he’ll do it manually with a tattoo gun. 

It also helps that the barista is perhaps the most beautiful man Eddie’s ever laid eyes on, enough so that it’s… actually a little intimidating, if he’s being honest with himself. Intimidating to the point that Eddie’s yet to approach him for a refill since the girl who’d given him his first sugary abomination finished her shift. Besides, the mystery barista must’ve already found his soulmate. His entire left arm, from fingertip to at least his elbow, is covered in delicate, colorful designs that twist and wind about his skin, curling around each finger and looping gracefully up his arm.

I can still enjoy the view, he justifies to himself, taking a sip from his cup and remembering for the third time that it’s empty. 

He sighs and sets it back down, clearing his throat. It’s as good a time as any, he supposes, as he stands from his little corner table by the window and strolls across the room to the counter. 

“Hi, what can I get started for ya?” The barista asks, his name tag now visible and proclaiming Steve. 

“Uh,” he starts. “Salted caramel mocha, please?” 

Steve’s smile is bright and he leans on the counter, leveling it straight in Eddie’s direction. All Eddie wanted was a refill on his sweet treat disguised as coffee and instead, it feels as though he’s smacked in the head.

“Comin’ right up,” Steve replies, turning around to get his order going. “You’ve been sitting over there for a while, how’d that date go?” He asks with the confidence and familiarity of someone Eddie’s known his entire life. 

“Watching me, were you?” 

Steve grins over his shoulder, shrugging. “A little.” 

“I’m flattered. Well, I’m still here and they’re not so that oughta tell you everything.” 

Steve hums and turns back to the machine, finishing up his order. Eddie’s heart beats rhythmically, somehow slowing and quickening all at once and his lungs feel buoyed by something more powerful than his breath. When Steve faces him again and hands him his cup, exchanging it for the empty one in Eddie’s hand, they both freeze. 

Eddie’s snake begins to move. 

A clear, serpentine movement at the center as small, geometric lines begin to appear in the background. 

“Holy shit,” Eddie whispers, setting his full cup down so he doesn’t spill it. 

“Yeah, holy shit.” Steve places his other arm on the counter, the blank one, and Eddie sees that it’s not blank. There’s a small, barebones tree on his forearm whose leaves begin to blossom and shake, different shades of greens and oranges appearing before his eyes. 

“But– your other arm?” Eddie chokes out, eyes flickering between his own wrist, Steve’s forearm, and Steve’s other, fuller arm. 

“Philia. That’s Robin. But this one, this is eros.” Steve smiles again, matching the one Eddie can feel spreading across his own face as he looks up from his forearm. “I’m Steve.”

Steve smiles again, matching the one Eddie can feel spreading across his own face as he looks up from his forearm. Eddie looks in wonderment, searching for any sign of lie or trickery in Steve’s eyes and finds nothing but warmth and familiarity. 

“I’m Eddie.”

[nocturnowlette]

I don't know if this has been said before, but Everywhere at the End of Time is one of the most interesting examples of mass suggestibility and psychological priming that I've ever seen.

Some people seem to think that suggestions are only something that can be done with trance, but it's simply a core part of human communication. If you've ever gone into the comments of a youtube video that you liked and read a bunch of positive comments and left liking the video more after, you've been suggested.

If someone has ever anonymously insulted you and altered the way you saw yourself for a while, you've been suggested. If you've ever been a victim of losing "the game" or told your breathing is now manual, you've been suggested.

Suggesting someone is the mere act of summoning an idea in their mind that alters their behavior or perception. Even for a few particular series of hypnotic files, there seems to be intentional campaigns run to make them seem "dangerous" and "too effective" to plant the idea in the mind of anyone who listens to it.

In a weirdly similar sense, the buzz around Everywhere at the End of Time is essentially a self-sustaining feedback loop of suggestion. I am not saying that the album is not an experience or is without artistic merit or doesn't affect someone in any way, necessarily. However, I would be much more surprised if listening to repeated degrading loops of old music for 6 hours doesn't exhaust someone's brain.

The idea of it simulating dementia, however, is complete nonsense. I don't know where the idea started, but it seems to be in that perfect zone of "a little hard to believe, but easy to find 'proof' of as you listen". The moment someone finds themselves exahausted from hours of this album, find their brain challenged in a way it normally isn't, suddenly that seed of an idea planted in their head starts to sprout. And, as it continues and the concrete effects mix with the person's paranoia about the suggestion, it will eventually become as real as if it genuinely was. Over the course of 6 hours, at least.

And, once this "effect" was observed enough, it was given cultural legitimacy through personal testimony en masse and pseudoscientific "video essayists" trying to find these magical elements that simulate fuckin dementia. It's so fascinating to see happen in real time, and an interesting isolated example of how an idea can affect not just persons, but people.

Luckily for us, suggestions have a tendency to fade. Your breathing went back automatic again, after all.

[baldursyourgate]

Unused Knock Out Recruitment Minthara Dialogues 🔨

For quite a while, there were a lot of request for Minthara to be available for recruitment while saving the tieflings in the Grove. In Patch 5, Larian Studios finally made knocking her out one of the official way to recruit her.

There were at least two new dialogues appears in the datamine during the release of this patch that ties into this recruitment method, however it hasn't made it in game (yet).

I'm using the word "unused", because in my opinion it is definitely not "cut" content. None of these were available at launch, and in progressing patches it gets voice lines and animation, even though at this point it is only available through datamining and accessible through manually triggering this flags through codes/cheats.

1. Minthara questioning Tav on incapacitating her.

In Patch 4 datamine (before KO was made official method of recruitment), there was a dialogue of Minthara questioning why the Player had knocked her out, leaving her alive instead of killing her outright.

The dialogue was basically Minthara berating the player for "left an enemy alive so you could have the potential of a travelling companion" and calling their action "buffoonery".

As far as I know, there were no recorded voice lines for this dialogue. So you could safely say this is just a draft.

In patch 5, when the KO method was announced officially, the dialogue was finalised and audio files of the voice lines could be datamined. It is noticeable less "mean" than the draft version.

She's a lot more grateful here, though I do appreciate the "drow arrogance" and judginess of her draft version.

Final status: still not accessible in game. Voiced. Animation not confirmed.

2. "The Ultimatum"

"The Ultimatum" is a dialogue in which the Player is forced to choose between Halsin or Minthara.

It is first seen in Patch 4's datamine, before the non-lethal KO method was introduced.

In patch 5, the Ultimatum receives voice acting & as of Patch 6, there are animations of this scene. However it is not available in game and could only be access through triggering the flags manually.

Halsin & Minthara does not have any party banter nor interaction and has been so since launch. Using the KO method, for a long while left their tents clipping onto each others' in camp. This dialogue could be the final loop/plothole/bug closer, making Minthara and Halsin truly mutually exclusive for recruitment again, like how it was at launch.

Final status: still not accessible in game. Voiced & animated.

Whether or not we will see these dialogues in the next patch... Remains to be seen. Hopefully, more likely than not due to the chronic lack of content Minthara suffers from.

[crescentfool]

i've been doing a bunch of tartarus runs in reload lately, and it got me thinking about how i miss certain ways FES's clunky gameplay can characterize minato… (ramble about the great clock mechanic + leveling up party members in reload vs fes under the cut)

when i got to yabbashah block in tartarus (block 3), i remember commending the developers for adding the great clock mechanic. it's a much more convenient way to keep party members at the protagonist's level- so when you think about p3 from the perspective of trying to make it easier for people to play, the mechanic succeeds in this respect.

but now that i'm in adamah block, and that i've done lots of my once-a-month tartarus runs… i think that i got a little too dependent on it, and the way that i played through reload feels like a vastly different experience from how i played FES.

in reload, my party's levels are very lopsided. minato, yukari, akihiko, mitsuru, and fuuka are all level 90+, meanwhile junpei and aigis are at level 79, and then… poor ken and koromaru are at 71 and 64 respectively. (i never got to have a great clock for them…)

meanwhile, in FES, my party's levels were much more evenly distributed and were at least level 90. i did all of this manually for every monthly tartarus run because i enjoyed having options available for the taratarus guardians and monthly operations.

with how i perceive minato, i feel that the way i played FES feels more in-line with his character than me dawdling around waiting for the great clocks in reload.

FES's gameplay loop left me with the very strong impression that minato has to work twice as hard as everyone else in SEES does. it makes sense because, yeah, he's the leader, but something about having minato run through tartarus multiple times with different groups of people just to make sure that they are adequately prepared speaks volumes about his character, to me.

and while the tired mechanic is present in reload to some degree, most notably with allowing you to freely raise your courage stat when you visit edogawa after school… the tiredness system doesn't hit the same way that FES does, i think.

the way your party members in FES will call it quits when they return to the entrance floor at tartarus when they're tired, versus minato, in spite of all his tiredness and sickness, still pushes through tartarus because it's his responsibility…. idk!!! i miss that! i feel like this really hammers home the difference between minato and the rest of SEES, how minato doesn't really see himself as a human with needs worth respecting as long as he's useful to someone.

i don't think that tartarus being tedious (in FES especially) is not what most people would describe as fun, and i can respect people thinking it's a slog. but, regardless of how it feels to play, it doesn't change that FES's gameplay loop is a fundamental building block in how i perceive minato…

of course, i do recognize that you can just opt to NOT use the great clock in reload (and it's great when players are offered the choice to not partake in mechanics)! i definitely think that if someone really wanted to, they could manually level up party members, but i do feel that kind of playstyle isn't necessarily "incentivized" to the type of people who are into playing games for Having a Good Time. it's kind of like… "why would you do that when there's a much more convenient option available to you."

in any case! despite my woes, i do want to emphasize that i'm glad that reload has a much more smoother gameplay loop than the original P3 did, because it does make the game more accessible to people. having played both FES and reload, it feels very strongly apparent to me how the core gameplay formula of persona has really been refined in the past 18 years (to think og p3 was 2006 and reload is 2024.. time flies!). and reload has made revisiting a story that i love so dearly much, much easier because the gameplay just bops!

at the same time, due to my "i miss characterization informed by weird and dated FES gameplay quirks" woes, i still think that playing FES is worthwhile. (really, i feel this way about all iterations of p3! i think it's worthwhile to see what each version and side media has to say even if it doesn't Land™ for you.) but i also understand why people wouldn't want to play it, so i will keep writing posts about things i liked from FES's gameplay because i'm still very fond of FES (especially in respects to minato. these mechanics are so telling about him!!!) 💪

[eupheme]

IN THE WOODS SOMEWHERE | part iv: long road ahead

[masterlist]

joel miller x f!reader

Rated E - 4.6k

Tags: brief canon-divergence, reader is mid/late 30s+, soft!dom Joel, angst, references to anxiety, mentions of hunted food and meals, sort-of romanticization of a wound, manual restraints, unprotected PiV

A/N - this is the last full chapter before the epilogue! Thank you to everyone who has read along and commented. I appreciate you so much! 💕

The days grow longer. And you find that all good things must come to an end.

The ground crunches under your steps, one after another.

He walks beside you now. Those worn leather gloves stuffed into pockets, the soft brushing of fingers and knuckles - never quite entwining.

Silence has been a third companion this morning. Along with the bright sun glinting off the melting snow that collapses under your steps. A rare, warm moment.

A good time to get from one place to the next, if there ever was one.

You wish it was like the time you went out before.

That walk from a few days ago, after those stolen moments in the barn. Steps taken afterwards, in a contented haze - even through the twinge of soreness between your thighs.

Over-enthusiastic, in his recompense.

You think you understand it now, after his words. Realizing there was nothing that could make him do anything. That maybe he had just been waiting all those weeks, like you had.

There's an inhale of breath, as his steps crunch alongside yours. Something weighing on his mind - enough to steal his voice, to hide it away.

You've picked up that much at least - the silence of thought looked different on his face than the silence of listening, of holding his tongue.

But on the next breath, he lets his thoughts free - flying straight like an arrow.

"You have a good thing goin'," His voice is low, as if he might be overheard. As if the trees around you can listen, as his tongue wets his lips.

A pause, "But it's only you out here."

You glance at him, steps slowing when you see how serious his eyes are. Examining you, as his jaw works - before they're dropping.

His tone changes, going lighter, "You could come with us."

The words sit heavy between you. Bringing you to a crashing stop as his offer curls inside your brain and your heart.

You can't pretend it's something you haven't thought about. Dismissed. Thought about again.

A never-ending loop of what-ifs that you have to force yourself not to dwell on - too painful to consider. Never thinking he would actually ask.

"I can't." There's a tremble in your voice that you shake away - a pain that pricks at your eyes, "This is all I have."

There's something like pity in the look he gives you.

A tension between his eyebrows as he coaxes, "What if I told you there was more out there? This place ain't going to last forever."

His hand flexes, as if to reach for you. Moving to grip onto the wire fence, instead - curling around the ice-cold metal.

"That generator has a year left on it. Two, tops."

Your eyes drop. Part of you knows this. That you've kept up the cabin the best you could. But it's been twenty years since the world ended. Some things you can't fix anymore.

"You can't live like this. All alone." He means it kindly. But it twists in your stomach, your sorrow turning into anger.

An acid souring your words, spitting them back his way, "At least it's livin’."

Neither one of you are the best at talking things out. Losing the craft when actions spoke louder.

His own anger flaring - unsheathing that sharp edge.

"They ain't coming back. The person you're waiting for. You know that, right?”

His words are like a slap, staggering you. Cruel, even if he doesn't mean them that way. Even if he only wants you to see what you've been ignoring, avoiding, for years now.

It steals your words, as you stare back at him. The twist of his mouth, the angry tilt of his eyebrows above those eyes that seem to pierce right through you.

It transforms him into someone you don't recognize.

Taking him back to the man he was, on that first night.

You turn on your heel, then - your boots sinking into the damp ground with the force of your steps. Leaving him standing at the fence, his arms now hanging at his sides.

It feels like an impossible choice. That tiny bit of hope eroding into a sliver of nothing. You've told yourself a hundred times that you wouldn't ask them to stay. That you couldn't.

That it wasn't fair.

But it's on the tip on your tongue, now - even in spite of your anger. Trying to force their way through your lips.

His voice comes first.

Low and soft, but still freezing you in place.

"Ellie is immune."

And slowly, you turn.

He stands where you left him, dark eyes solemnly searching yours. Wanting, needing you to understand what he is saying.

"What?"

You heard him, but it still doesn't make sense. Thoughts seem to buzz in your head - the words scooped up with the wind, taking them with it.

"Been bit twice and hasn't turned." He takes a step closer, and you find yourself doing the same.

Another, and then another - until you're in front of each other, again.

“I'm taking her to a group in Salt Lake City. Might be able to find a cure."

All you can do is stare, as his words sink in. Emotions flickering in your chest, like those old kodachrome slides - each breath changing the photo. Shock bleeds into worry, melting their way into sadness. And then, hope.

"Is she, really?" You breathe.

A mark still settled deep between your eyebrows, as you think. How Ellie must have felt, that first time. You can't imagine the fear of a bite - and to have experienced it twice? At her age?

So capable, but so young. She shouldn't have had to grow up like this. To have gone through that.

"I've seen the mark." His hand rakes through his hair, before bracing on his hips, "Made a promise I'd get her there safely."

You nod, automatically.

The unseen burden - their drive - making sense in a way you never understood until now. The weight of their journey replacing the heavy one in your heart. What a difference, this girl could make.

You see her in a new light.

Maybe she could prevent what happened to you from happening to anyone else.

His fingers brush yours, and you take them - his grip warm and familiar. Standing for a stolen moment, before you acknowledge the impossible impasse.

He can't ask you to go.

And you can't ask him to stay.

Your eyes burn.

You tell yourself it’s just from the wind.

———

As the days pass, you pick up on it.

The slow packing of things.

A spare zip-up jacket that’s taken up residence on the old wooden chair, now tucked away into a bag.

The small pile of tools - a swiss army knife, the skinny phillips head screwdriver.

Spending weeks cluttering the little side table. Sharing the space with an old iron lantern, so Joel could see when he tinkered on things in the evenings.

Now, swept away like they never existed. The pieces like magnets - slowly working their way back to each other, back to where they came from.

It makes your chest ache, but the days are getting a little warmer. The mark on his stomach starting to fade instead that raw, red splash.

Healing, with the time that has passed.

It has you wanting to withdraw, even though you should be blooming - sprouting up through the thawing soil.

Instead, you find yourself tucking yourself in your room a little more often. Leaving them alone.

Not every day - there’s moments when you forget. When you are just happy to be with them, spending time. Soaking it in.

It’s in the mornings, when your bed is empty. When there’s that flip in your stomach when he’s not there - when you remember that in the no-so-distant future, he won’t just be on the other side of the door.

That’s when you linger. Letting yourself press into the bed, softer than the floor.

You’ve never been good at goodbyes.

You’ve never gotten the chance to give them.

And when you finally have the chance, you don’t want to. You want it - them - to linger.

To be tethered, like you are, to this place. Moss growing over stone.

But you can’t ask for that. And with what you know now, you won’t let that happen.

There's a finality in the way you pluck things off the pantry shelf tonight. As you prepare the meal - passing things to Ellie to open, watch over for you as they begin to cook.

Giving Joel the best cuts of meat from the deer. It had taken him two days to track it down. It's become harder and harder to find food around these parts.

You should ration it. If he notices, he doesn't say anything. Letting you season it with an abundance of spices, almost too much, before he takes it to the fire.

Pulling as many comforting things as you have. Letting your mind wander back to your childhood, trying to adapt it to now.

Canned potatoes, a hearty chili, peanut butter sandwiches. Applesauce and and old packet of kool-aid.

In the past, you would have nibbled away at each one. Stretched them into days, wanting to save these small indulgences.

Tonight - you don't care.

It becomes a patchwork of flavors. You're not even sure if it will go together. But if it's good - you make it.

Wanting them to go to bed tonight, full and happy.

That you can do, at least.

The food fills most of your cookware, finishes dishes spilling across your counter. Plates piled high as the sun sets - the golden beams making the kitchen feel hazy. Softened in the evening glow.

It takes most of the afternoon, but it's worth it. To have that moment of sitting down together.

Of actual tableware set out, instead of standing at the counter - shoveling in a bite. Running off to finish what ever you'd been working on.

Tonight, metal clinks against ceramic. Steaming food and a swirl of red in wine glasses - a smattering of giggles with Ellie's exaggerated "pinkies out".

It feels - normal. In spite of everything.

It makes you wistful.

Like if you closed your eyes, it would be back then. That maybe you'd be home - still young and without all these unshakeable burdens and memories.

And if not that, then it makes you think of what could be.

What can't be.

A heaviness begins in your heart, stretching down to your fingers. Weighing down your fork - each bite slow.

But not because you're savoring it - when you look back, you won't remember the flavors.

Trying to soak the evening in. Every detail. Trying not to drag down the mood with your melancholy. Ignoring the way Joel's eyes sweep towards you, the pinching of his brow.

You don't want to make it weird. To cling on, even if your fingers itch to. It had been change and luck that had brought them your way, and hopefully that would follow them on the road ahead.

So instead, you throw yourself into conversations with Ellie. Really trying to listen, to remember all of it.

A smile, as you conceed that perhaps Batman wasn't a superhero, after all. A conversation you’ve touched on before, when Ellie found a stash of comic books on the shelf.

“I think his powers are his intellect, and disicpline. His humanity is his power, you know?"

“Bruce is just a rich dude in a suit. He's no different than Tony Stark."

"Iron Man is a hero. His suit gives him superpowers. Plus he's like, stupid-smart."

"How can he be both stupid and smart?"

"Joel, you don't even know who Iron Man is."

The dishes left in the sink, for you to tackle tomorrow. They will be welcome distraction, then.

Clearing the space for candles, as the streaks of purple and grey fill the rooms.

Cards flicking across the table. Throwing yourself into the Texas Hold'em that's been the favorite lately. Ellie catching on quickly, finding joy in calling out the bluffs.

Played for pennies, buttons, things found around the house. Carefully coveted when won, as if they actually held a value. It’s easy to throw yourself into it, getting caught up in the game.

It's late, when the round ends. When you're left looking at each other, the single candle not strong enough to keep away the creeping darkness.

You stand.

Still unwilling for things to end. Not yet. Just a few minutes longer.

So you find another candle instead. A thick one with three wicks - until the glow is warm and filling the space again. Washing over expressions that resemble your own.

"One more."

You play one more, and then another. As the minutes tick by, and the light burns low.

———

His thumb sweeps feather-light over the mark. Slightly faded with time that has passed - the angry slash fading to a swooped line.

You’ve spent nights mapping each other out in the dark, but not like this. The curtains drawn back to let the moonlight in, the candle from the kitchen moved to sit on the side table - making his skin glow in the golden light.

Touching you like he wants to remember, wants to actually know each scar and mark on your skin.

“This looks new.”

“It is,” You smile, a soft laugh. “That’s from the night we met.”

Joel’s head lifts, a question in his eyes.

“Ellie.” You tell him - a soothing brush through his curls when he frowns, “She’s one hell of a kid. Out of all of us, she’s the one that’s gonna be just fine.”

He makes a sound at that, a low acknowledgment. You wonder if he had more time, if he’d press for more information.

Head dipping as he presses his lips softly against the scar, instead.

“I’m sorry.”

It could be an apology just for this. For what he said before. Or - it just could be for all the things that has happened. To you, to him.

It’s too tender.

You’re not used to soft. Neither one of you are. Awkward and fumbling over words, trying to hold things back.

Knowing there’s not much time left.

You shake your head, “Don’t be. I don’t mind, it’s-“

It’s a reminder that the two of you existed. A memory, for when you’re gone. That it wasn’t just a dream.

It’s fucked up to think that way. But then again, what isn’t fucked up about the world, anymore?

“It’s fine. She was trying to help you.” You deflect, “Can’t fault her for that.”

He hums, his hand flattening against your stripped-bare skin. Drifting along the curve of your waist and hip, fingertips carefully dragging.

It makes your stomach flip, something bubbling up to burn in your chest.

You don’t want soft tonight. You don’t think you can take it.

Teeth gritting as you try to shift the weight. Trying to pull him on top of you, from where he rests on his side. A palm tucked under his cheek, his curls soft and tousled from a recent shower.

It’s domestic.

That bubbling feeling rises, choking you. Blinking back the sting of your eyes, as he resists for just a second - confused.

As if you could really move him, all on your own.

You second tug is softer, and he moves then. Rolling on top of you until his hips are cradling yours, elbows digging into the mattress on either side as he hovers.

Surrounding you, until he’s all you can see. A hand curving against your jaw, a thumb brushing against your cheek.

There’s a pinch between his brows. Something that’s been there since that morning walk, those days ago.

A permanent etching, above eyes that see too much.

Your own eyes close, to break that connection. A hand curling around the back of his neck to bring his mouth down to yours.

The groan sounds broken in your throat, when his body melds against yours. That weight pressing you into the bed, as you deepen the kiss.

Your thigh hooking around his waist, pulling him closer. The sound echoed when your teeth scrape his lip in your eagerness.

That look again, as he pulls back. You know he can read yours.

Desperate.

All but clinging to him, as his sharp look softens. You hope he knows what you need, because you don’t think you have the words tonight.

If you open your mouth, you’re afraid the rest will flow. That you’ll say something you’ll regret - all your feelings wrapped up so tightly, scrambling over each other to burst through first.

But, you think you can manage one. For him.

“Please.”

Those dark eyes flick back and forth between yours. You wonder if he needs the same thing because suddenly, his head is ducking back down.

The hand on your cheek sliding to cup the back of your neck. Thumb and forefinger pressing into the muscle, holding you in place as his hips start to slowly rock.

Grinding himself against you, as his tongue flicks at yours. Slowly swelling, growing hard against the soft curve of your thigh, your hip.

Leaving a sticky streak behind, as your fingers grip at his shoulder. As he swallows the moans that grow softer, as the neediness takes over.

Angling himself so he slides between your thighs. His hot length nudging against your core, shining from the way his mouth presses to yours. Slick now, as his other hand cups a breast.

Teasing, then pinching. The slight pain makes you gasp, the pleasure layering over it as he swallows the sound.

Your hips lift, seeking him. A frustrated hand snaking between you - wrapping around his length, lining him up.

His hips slow, to where he’s just pressing against you. Not nudging inside, not yet. Eyes open and dark as his head tilts back.

Watching. Observing your change of pace, a shift in what’s become the usual. A question in them, unspoken but you can read it as well as he can read you.

This what you want?

You need this?

Your lips are on his neck, as you shift. The tip parting and then splitting you as he starts to sink inside. Tasting the salt of his skin as your arms wrap around his strong shoulders, holding yourself against him.

Joel groans as he’s enveloped in your heat. The hand dropping to the curve of your waist and squeezing, as he drives into you.

It steals your breath, a soft gasp against his neck as his cock makes room for itself. A sharp stretch in the way he fills you.

Nails biting into the meat of his shoulder as his hips sit flush. Before his hand is moving - reaching for yours. Dragging one from his shoulder and pinning it against the mattress.

Pushing you back, bracing himself above you. That forearm still pressed into the bed, his fingers still cupping the back of your neck.

Head dropping, so he can nose against your cheek. His voice a low rasp, barely audible in the soft shell of your ear.

“If you want it, you’re gonna take what I give you.”

It sends a flickering thrill up your spine. How he has you held so firmly in place. Thumb pressing into the hollow under your ear - keeping your face tipped up towards him.

You do expect him to take. Bracing for it, a flutter of your eyelashes - waiting for the sharp, unyielding snap of his hips.

Instead, his hips rock. A lazy, slow drag as he nudges deep, and then deeper.

Your free hand clings to him, wrapping around a thick bicep. The heel of your foot pressing against the curve of his ass, urging.

But he keeps it up. Small thrusts into where you’re warm and wet and aching for him, tilting your hips up to meet him.

All while his eyes stay on yours. Rarely blinking - just taking you in.

You wonder if this is how you looked earlier, at the table. That greedy inhalation of anything you could.

Wanting to remember.

It has your jaw gritting. His tenderness would be something you’d marvel at, if it was another night.

But you want to forget. Everything that isn’t him, that isn’t just this moment.

There’s a pink flash of tongue as he wets his lips, framed by the peppered-grey strands of his beard.

“More?”

“More.” You parrot, a jerky nod to your head.

That sharper thrust comes, and then another. Each one pushes a thought from your head, replacing it with soft, hazy bliss.

The grind of his hips as he finds the angle that he knows well. The one that has you gasping, the coarse hair a much-needed friction against your clit.

Each thrust like a tooth on a gear, slowly winding you up. Twisting in your belly until you feel like it’s about to snap - your breath a ragged gasp with each harsh punch of his hips.

It’s almost enough. The fingers around your wrist tightening, as he hold himself back. Your thighs gripping around his hips as you clench, his own breath equally harsh.

His name, breathed out the feeling begins to overwhelm you.

“Joel. Joel, I’m-”

Those arms move, then. Releasing that tight grip, as his lips brush yours. His words an echo of that first night, when you had fallen in bed together.

“That’s it, sweetheart. Come on.” He coaxes - needing it as much as you do. “Come for me.”

Wrapping his arms around you, as you shatter.

———

He wakes her quietly. A hand on a sleepy shoulder, a gentle shake.

A finger raising to his lips as her eyes open. Bleary-eyed as she yawns, looking around the dark room. It's early - the morning light is just starting to crest over the mountains.

"It's time." Joel tells her quietly, no more than a whisper, "You got your things?"

Ellie frowns as she nods, foot pointing at the bag at the end of her bed.

"Alright then. Get dressed, we gotta head out."

A moment, her voice hoarse with sleep.

Almost sounding small, "Is she coming with us?"

He stares at her for a moment, before his head shakes, slowly.

Her voice drifts after him as he turns - not wanting to see the disappointment, "Then, aren't we going to say goodbye?"

"You know we did. Last night, that's what that was all about." He tells her, a bit of that old bite coming back, "We'll never leave if-"

We'll never leave if we see her again. We'll want to stay. We already do.

His jaw grits, "-if we don't get started now.”

She nods sullenly.

He gives her space.

Taking one last look around the small cabin. Flashes of the time that has passed - dinners by the little fireplace. How they all managed just to fit on that old worn couch.

How he hadn't seen Ellie laugh like that, not since Kansas City. Not since Sam.

He leaves it for her. Took him a while longer than he'd like to admit. Tucked into the book that rests by the window - the place where it all started. She'll find it there, he's sure.

Never been good at goodbyes. Not before, and not now. Not even when he's been afforded the extra time.

Hands shoved in his pockets so he doesn't touch anything else. Jacket already on, the rifle slung across his back. Itching to get out the door, because being stuck in this limbo is weighing him down.

Thoughts threatening to burst from the ground and wrap around his ankles, anchoring him until he has no choice but to stay.

But, they have a job to do.

Soon, the door opens. Ellie is staring - walking past him, to the kitchen counter.

Where some bundles had been left out. Cans of food and supplies wrapped in canvas bags. A bit of color peeking out of the top.

Those scarves she’s been working on. Finally finished, the ends weaved, neatly tasseled. She must have worked hard to finish them, putting this last bit of kindness together.

Ellie hesitates then, fingers tracing the woven pattern - glancing at the shut bedroom door, across the hall.

"Joel-" Ellie begins - but he's shaking his head.

"We gotta go."

"I know about it, that you-" She's protesting,

"Ellie, please."

The two words are quiet. Just a small, short thing.

She nods. Reaching for the smaller of the two bags, shoving it into her own backpack.

Trying to be quiet as she zips it up, fitting it back on her shoulders over the heavy, plum-colored coat.

Waiting at the door as he does the same, before the front door is opening. Letting her step out first, those scarves wrapped tight around their noses, still smelling like the cabin. Like her.

His fingers reach up - a quick brush against the steel horseshoe above the door. Like he’s watched her do. For luck, she said.

And then, he's shutting the door behind them.

"It's west, to Salt Lake City." Joel nods, as she follows behind, "Let's get Callus, and see how far we can get today."

And they start off together - again.

———

You wake alone.

You were expecting it - it was the right call.

But it still hurts.

The spot next to you is cool, but there's still an indent in the pillow where he laid next to you. Last night and all those ones before.

The spot smelling like him, and you resist the urge to bury your face in it. To just stay in bed, all day. Maybe forever.

You can't be upset - you were the one who said no. The offer had been small, but it had been there.

But it was too complicated. Too dangerous.

You both knew that the world was like now.

These weeks had been a reprieve. A moment you never should have had, because the world doesn't work with kindness anymore.

Better to appreciate, remember fondly, and then - move on.

So you busy yourself, instead. Catching up on things put on hold for all those weeks.

Taking stock of what you'll need.

Trying not to think too much about the heavy mass in your stomach - to wonder if it’s grief, or if it’s regret.

So instead, you turn roll your sleeves up. Tackling the plates and pans and mess of shining, silvers forks and spoons.

The stack slowly dwindling, until everything is in its place again.

It's mid-afternoon when you finally sit. On the far left-side of the couch, though there's room for you to spread out, now. Looking out the window at the path that leads to the gate.

Wondering if footprints remain in the snow.

Wondering if the weather has been kind to them.

Wrapping a blanket around you as you reach for the book that you've only snatched small moments of, thinking you'll finally get a chance to finish it.

It falls open, to the middle. A folded piece of paper tucked between the pages, at a different spot than the scrap piece working as a bookmark.

Curiously, you unfold it.

Words scrawled neatly across the page. The handwriting you don't recognize, but you still know it, because it reminds you of him.

Taking a long second to memorize the way your name looks in his writing, before you read the rest.

I know what we talked about.

If you change your mind, I got a brother in Jackson.

It's good place, with good people. They'd take care of you.

Just mention my name to Tommy.

Might find our way back there, when all this is over.

Yours,

Joel

You read it, again and again. Something twisting in your stomach, curling into knots. Catching in your chest.

Thinking about everything. About all the years you’ve spent here - a prison and a sanctuary. About that walk in the woods. His words.

They ain’t coming back.

What if there was more?

A long while passes, before you slowly unfold yourself.

Crouching down by the old bookcase. Looking past the spines of books and comics - the briefest of smiles at the memory, before you're reaching for that stack of old maps.

Dragging one out onto the kitchen table.

Unfolding the creased, worn pages.

Your finger dips over the valleys. Finding your home, nestled in the woods and mountains.

Then, dragging it slowly - finding the roads, the highways.

Tracing a path towards Jackson.

Would love to know what you thought of this series / this ending! 💕 thank you again for reading! edit: okay, not quite the end! There is an epilogue up now, linked on the masterlist.

[cozyenigma]

Maintenance

HULLO

Word Count- 1263

Request?- Yes!

Summary- Life goes on, even out here. Unfortunately that also meant all the more inconvenient aspects.

Warnings- None

"Hand me that socket wrench?"

You weren't entirely sure why he asked for your help on this. Mark was more than capable of the usual maintenance a ship this size demanded by himself. Aside from his… quirks his work was impeccable. Hell, you could probably find half a dozen other things that needed your attention more than handing him tools. You didn't mention it.

"This one?" You held one out to him, low enough that he could see it with the mass of machinery he was under.

"That'll work."

As he reaches out to grab it, his fingers skim along your palm. It's just for a second, hardly any contact at all. Still you startle, accidentally jerking the wrench back a bit.

"Sorry," you hurried to push it back into his hand, feeling ridiculous.

Your only response is a quick thanks, Mark quickly going back to his work. Mentally you slapped yourself. It was ridiculous to be this jumpy around one of your crew. You were their captain for crying out loud, this wasn't even appropriate. Why did you even say yes to this?

Apparently, Mark had been banned from using the power tools. For what reason you couldn't actually get out of him but the padlock on the storage cabinet they were kept in was enough of an answer. So, much to Mark's annoyance, he was forced to use exclusively manual tools. He'd grabbed you on your way to the bridge, pushing the old toolbox into your hands. The head engineer wouldn't hear any arguments. True, it wasn't technically your shift on the bridge but still.

Mark called your name, insistent. With a start you realized he had been for a while now.

"Sorry what?"

"I said this one's too big, can you hand me the half inch?" Then after a beat, "Are you okay? You seem… distracted."

"I'm fine," you focus on finding the tool he needs, ignoring how the man has his head at such an awkward angle to try and look your way. "Just thinking."

"About?"

"… everything," you said, keeping it vague. Unhelpful.

There were way too many ways that he could interpret that. The journey, the colony you were supposed to be leading, the loops. Plenty of actual, real world issues that could be occupying your mind. Certainly not your childish crush on the man. Really, it wasn't out of the blue that you found yourself getting closer to him. The adventure, the tears, the whole thing lead to an easy camaraderie you treasured. Or at least you'd thought it was just that. This, now? This didn't feel easy.

As you dig around in the tool box there's a dull thud, a muttered curse, and then the sound of fabric against metal as Mark worked his way out from under the machinery. You felt your face burn. While you were handy enough to fix some basic software issues you weren't familiar with the hardware. At all.

"Sorry," you apologize, scowling at the tool box like it was at fault, "can't find the right-"

"Tell me what's really wrong."

Your head shoots up and suddenly Mark was much closer than you realized. Were you that obvious? He was crouched down right next to you, brows furrowed and tapping his fingers against his knee.

"Nothing is-"

"Cut the shit, captain, I can read you like a book. Hell, you're a picture book." He ignores your insulted scoff. "You're distracted, you're fidgety as hell, and you're avoiding me like the plague."

"What?" You couldn't keep the surprise out of your voice and Mark's expression sours. "I haven't been avoiding you, I have a whole ship to run, Mark."

"Uh huh," the engineer seemed less than convinced. "And I'm sure you've got a good reason for assigning completely opposite shifts for us? I'm a night owl but this is a little ridiculous."

"The ship's been through it!" You said. Even you were able to pick up how defensive you sounded but it wasn't like that! "Just the small stuff will take a week or so not to mention trying to get the Invincible ready for planet fall-"

"Captain you haven't even been eating lunch with everyone," Mark cuts in, words quick and snappy, "and I remember coming in for breakfast and seeing you running right out. At the same time."

"Mark it isn't like that-"

"Well what is it like?" He throws his hands up. "Just tell me! This whole thing is just because you," he pokes you, none too gently at that, "haven't said anything and you clearly have a problem with me. So spill it."

On some level, you knew he was just frustrated. Probably due in part to the odd shifts you'd been putting him on and the resulting lack of sleep. But still something inside you wrankled at his words. It tugged at things that shouldn't be. Or maybe it was just the fact that the last time he blamed you for something…

"My only problem with you right now is that you're being an asshole, Mark. Just drop it!"

Blinded by the dizzying sting of what was going through your head, you don't pay attention as you stand up. Your foot lands on the wrench, that wrong sized one you hadn't put back into the box. It slipped with a rough clatter. Suddenly your feet weren't underneath you. You see Mark's eyes go wide, trying to catch you. From his half crouched position, he doesn't have the leverage to actually pull you up. So he goes down with you.

The two of you crash into the floor. Hard. You can feel the pattern in the middle digging into your back. Your elbows stung, you knew you were gonna bruise where your shin caught the machinery. The weight on top of you was solid and heavy for a moment, just a moment, before Mark was scrambling up and off of you. You're left on the floor, staring up at him. The view was one you'd experienced only one other time.

But this time he offered you a hand. It was a quick thing, almost like he'd forgotten in the midst of the embarrassment. Probably embarrassment right? His face did seem a little red.

"You okay?" He asks, louder than he intended apparently as he follows with a quieter, "Sorry. For- yeah…"

All you could muster was a shake of the head. Not only was that whole thing almost straight out of a rom-com, you were uncomfortably reminded of what happened in the warp core. Your brain hadn't decided how you felt about all that still.

"Right, well…" Mark said, slowly letting go of your hand. You hadn't realized he was still holding it. "Sure you have something better to do than acting as assistant."

You open your mouth to deny it on reflex but Mark was already turning back to his work. Whatever it was, it had passed. Another beat of hesitation. You could tell him. The warp core and afterwards, how you hadn't meant to avoid him, how you were just trying to figure things out.

But you didn't.

Swallowing those poisonous apologies, you bid him a quick and stilted goodbye before retreating. The what ifs were too many. It could go over well but on the other hand… You tried to ignore how loudly your footsteps echoed off the metal floor. They beat at your ears in condemnation as you decided to leave things where they were.

The next shift you actually worked on, you made sure the power tools were ready and available for him.

[mellowwhumps]

Whumperless Whump Event Day “everything else”: Domestic hurt/comfort || Accidentally poisoned || ALT PROMPT: Panic Attack || Temporary Amnesia || Fully unconscious

OCs: Cicadas (all) - 3.9K words

masterlist (for them only)

@whumperless-whump-event

——

After an admittedly extended trip, they were more than happy to return to the dull scenery of their ship rather than the vibrancy of the outside. Finishing their commission meant that they should be getting their worth as long as they submitted their evidence, which they most definitely had acquired. 

Right now, their goods were scattered in Lotti’s bag, the contents of the two glass jars clinking within, repetitive noise barely mentioned amidst all the conversations going on.

“Home, sweet home! Or as I read in a book, all aboard!” Kyrai exclaimed, more than rushing up the ramp. A little more hyper than usual, Lotti assessed, but normal in the current situation.

“Kai, this is neither a house nor a train.”

“You’re no fun. I saved you for the umpteenth time and this is how you repay me, Itaph?”

“First of all, you did not. Secondly, yes, actually.” Itaph smiled, as though waiting for something to happen. Of course it would.

Scenario starts: Kyrai gets a little annoyed, the conversation continues until shutdown time and the bi-weekly game night is utterly obliterated for the week. Still a joyous activity, though. Easy enough to assess.

Why wasn’t it, though? Lotti could barely come to any comprehensible conclusion about anything, at that very moment. It was as though their strength was being sapped out of them, which was…odd. She had just replenished her energy reserves a few days ago, which meant she wouldn’t need to do so again for at least half a month more. 

No warnings were showing on visuals. Nothing was wrong. Resume normal operations.

Lotti hurried to the ship’s control room, placing a hand on the touchpad. It should have been manually done, but that was the advantage of having her around, she supposed. She could see where every bit of current was linked to, and hence could divert and control it through her own system, or sap it completely out. The ship took flight with little problem apart from the heated commotion in the main quarters, because god forbid the crew ever sit down without issue. 

She triggered the notification for them to unbuckle their seatbelts after assessing the safety of doing so. The scenery in front of her was barely a blur, but they should be in decent range out of the planet. It was fine. 

The blare of some siren sounded in their head, piercing yet silent. She took a moment to glance around for the source of the noise. Just that small movement seemed to make the ship spin loops around her. Not a moment later, her visuals fully shut down, the world seeming almost darker than the endless space outside. 

Blinded, but she was the pilot. She couldn’t…She had to…she had to…

———

The ship lurched forward, throwing everyone askew. Zyx got up with a groan, rubbing her head as she fervently voiced some choice words. Hitting the wall was never a good start to any trip. 

Sighing, she stumbled her way to her feet, taking a quick survey of everyone. Nobody appeared to be harmed too badly, so no matter. It’s a short ways to the cabin room, barely five steps away from her current location. The place wasn’t that big.

“Idiot’i, what in universes are you doing, drive the damn ship properly!” The door was slammed open with little care. The person in front of her barely moved in response. As a matter of fact, she wasn’t sure the controls were being used.

Autopilot indicator. Not on.

“Um. Lotti?” She stepped closer, pressing a series of keys to toggle that option just in case before checking in. Upon nearing, it was clear the other was responding, though so softly that she had to strain her ears to hear.

“—Can’t.” Her voice was strangely robotic, despite it being decently human-sounding for the short period she’d known the other for. 

“Can’t what? Drive the ship? Did you forget or something, at least remember a few buttons, come on. And look at me, I’m talking to you.” Zyx grasped the other by the sides of her face, promptly flinching away with a hitched gasp. 

She could have cooked a proper meal there with how hot it was, so painfully scorching she only caught a glimpse of Lotti’s single, jet-black eye before her face was obscured by shadow once again. There was no light entering it at all, nothing to indicate functionality.

Zyx slammed her hand onto the intercom button. “Telios! All of you, pilot’s down. I repeat, pilot’s down!” She shouted, perhaps a little louder than needed. For emphasis. 

Almost immediately, the others rushed into the room, finally followed by Telios lugging the toolbox with them, panting as they stopped to catch their breath.

“What's going on?” Aelya asked first.

“Dunno. Critical malfunction or something. Don't touch her, by the way, she's burning up.” Zyx moved away from the chair, leaning against the wall in a pose that could hopefully convey nonchalance. 

Itaph joined her by the side. From her angle, she could see his hands were balled into fists behind his back. Well. She knew what that feeling of uselessness was like as well, she supposed. 

“Iot’i, can you blink for me?” Telios softly instructed, squatting to get a better viewpoint as they put on gloves. 

A second passed, then two. “UNABLE TO COMPUTE,” the voice coming from Lotti's body said, inhumanly uncanny. If the question itself was odd enough, then the answer was worse. Blinking was a simple thing to do, right? At least for her. 

Oh. She saw the problem now. 

Telios was speaking to themself, hands still lingering near Lotti's body but not quite getting close, the toolbox staying shut. Eventually, they put their hands down. “Iot'i, override code 29362, protocol E-two-five AUTO toggle off. I’m really sorry for this, but I’d, um, I’d like to—”

Lotti crashed to the floor and interrupted that thought process, a failed attempt to get out of the chair. Even so, she moved quickly, getting to a sitting position and shifting back. She unsheathed the gun by her side holster, pointing it forward with no clear target apart from the general direction of Telios, who froze in place. 

Lotti was strong. She shouldn’t have to fight blind, fight unfairly. It was quite the sorry sight to her, a person who would have done the same.

“Who are you?” Lotti demanded, “I’ll shoot if you don’t answer.” 

The room went quiet. Threats were very real, coming from her. Kyrai treaded on those glass shards, answering in turn. 

“Kyrai’is. That’s Telios you’re pointing your gun to, so you should put that away…ah, stay calm, please…” The gun shifted to point at them, its edge glinting.

Pause.

The shot fired. It just barely missed, grazing Kyrai’s clothes as it put a dent in the metal wall behind them. First step of asking someone to calm down was never to ask them directly to do so. She learnt that the hard way.

“I don’t know you. I repeat, who are you.” Though Lotti’s hands weren’t shaking, it was obvious that holding the gun up took a lot of effort. Too much. The scent of something burning wafted through the room, not helping the situation in the slightest. Zyx hoped it wouldn’t get worse. 

No use in hoping. She had to do something.

“You don’t remember, right?” She inquired, prompting no answer. “I tried to hit someone you know and you tackled me in our first meeting. In this place, I train with you on every alternate day. Name’s Oryizyx, or Zyx for short. I promise everything that happens next is to help you. You know that when I swear on something, I follow it, and if you can’t recall, now I’m telling ya.”

A wavering of the gun, though now pointing at her. “I…you’re familiar. I recall that happening. I…What’s wrong with me? Why can’t I function properly, I can’t function properly.”

It was terrifying, to know her life was in the hands of someone who could barely aim. It was worse to give anyone the shame of knowing they tried. She didn’t know Lotti’s past, not in the slightest, but she could at least spare her the regret of the present.

“We don’t know what’s wrong, but right now my friend here is going to help. They’ve helped you before, I think. What I do know is that you’re in safe hands. I promise I’ll keep watch, if that isn’t enough. Nobody’s going to try anything funny.”

In that moment, she wasn’t scared. Maybe the other could hear it, maybe some other force of nature showed mercy on both of them.

“…Alright.” And then, even more hesitantly as she lowered her gun, “I trust you.”

Job done. But that was merely the simplest part. 

Telios whispered a few things into her ear, instructions she could barely process amidst all the foreign terminology. She tried her best to relay it through voice, the typical way of using excessive gestures to get her point across rendered useless.

“…So. In short, just shut your systems fully down, my friend not-so forcefully drains your energy out, gives you some more, and you wake up fine and dandy. Got it?” 

Guilt was a terrible emotion, something utterly weak and unbefitting of a being like her. She had recollections of that feeling, even past those blurry memories that made up her childhood. 

Right now, it was churning in her being like waves within a stormy sea. There was no guarantee it would end up successful, the weeks of fixing any damaged wires and finding another energy source for Lotti to siphon from, the weeks that would later make hollow gaps in her database. 

It quite reminded her of her old ship being sent for upgrading every once in a while, leaving her vulnerable. Later on, it left Aelya susceptible as well, which was another thing altogether. But that was over long ago.

“Okay…okay.” Lotti relaxed, the gun clattering to the floor in front of her. 

Then, she was gone.

———

Aelyeau was awoken by the shuffling of bed sheets beside him. On any typical day, he’d have been a decently heavier sleeper, but not that day. Not for the past week, honestly; the culmination of a whole list of occurrences.

They asked him to keep watch and he still managed to fail at that. Wonderful.

Better him than anyone else, at least. A certain two people would have fainted on the spot, exaggeration warranted. The amount of times they’d tried to barge into the room was getting unreasonable. 

“Mor-night, Lotti! How’re you feeling?” Aelya asked, hoping his smile didn’t come out as too wide. 

“Systems operational, energy at full capacity. Though, I don’t find myself trusting that now. Mm. I take it that Telios was able to…”

“Wouldn’t be here if they weren’t. The workshop was locked up for ages.”

“How long was this ‘ages’?”

“Approximately two weeks, give or take a few days. I can fill you in—” The door promptly opened. “Never mind. Later.”

The rest of the crew poured into the room, some looking considerably more worn than others. In particular, Kyrai may as well have been dragging the resident mechanic, the way they could barely stand. Lotti stared at him in question.

“You forgot to check on them. You know they don’t sleep with work undone.”

Itaph interrupted. “In all fairness. They started it.”

“I can stay in stasis. The well-being of living things should be prioritised.”

Aelyeau opened his mouth to object, then decisively closed it. Once again, nobody was saying the things that mattered. If he continued it, he was only perpetuating the cycle.

“They were worried about you, Lotti,” he stated, “and Telios wouldn’t tell us anything. Maybe with the victim of your secrets in the room with us, you’d care to explain? I know you could—”

A sharp inhale. “—I’m sorry for using your override code! I shouldn’t be aware of it, I-I just needed you alert because the AUTO system actually doesn’t help at all and you—”

“Slow down. You don’t need to explain that breach, you’re forgiven. My privacy is a topic for another time. Do you understand what happened to me?”

“Um.” Clearly not expecting that, it would seem. Once upon a time, he would have acted the same. 

Telios continued, “A part of your energy reserves was incompatible with your processors, for some reason, so your systems tried to reject it but couldn’t. Which is…odd? You’re meant to accept most types of these things. Which means you got this source from the Outer Sector, which also means it wasn’t something you should have acquired, which…erm, begs the question?”

Aelyeau had the sinking feeling he knew what happened. But, like any rational approach to an inquiry, Lotti saw nothing wrong and spoke. 

“Spare batteries from Oryizyx’s ship.”

Behind the wall, footsteps echoed away. Aelyeau could barely turn the corner of the corridor before gasping for breath, the door to the small training room slamming shut, the lock clicking.

———

It wasn’t hard to see the signs, every single day. Oryizyx was never that angry, never to him. So frustrated. If Aelyeau told her he was the one who caused the demise of her most precious belonging, would she have been enraged at him as well? 

The place he knew she’d spent all those years in. Alone. The only thing she had, apart from some semblance of past memories.

The alternative to him not owning up was this. An inability to take the wheel, forcing herself to only ever resort to violence as an option. And now, when she had to do so, she could only stay uncomfortably quiet. It was either fury or fear. Certainly not this third thing, so foreign to everyone.

Even Kyrai was at a loss, the navigator unable to cooperate with her for directions, only giving the bare minimum. Aelyeau could almost hear the kettle whistling, the lid clattering, froth moments from reaching the top. He’d spent enough time with Itaph, after all. 

Because they were stranded here. Because he stranded her here.

The workshop wasn’t actually locked, but he remembered. He might always remember it. Walking into the room to ask for a small, admittedly unneeded favor; seeing his friend sprawled on the work desk, chest open, a mishmash of wires and exterior connections tangled up. Unmoving, unseeing. Helpless. Almost as if frozen in time. 

He could see why Kyrai never entered, prefering to pace about the common room. It made him want to leave too, the request in his head immediately forgotten.

He was already standing up and taking a step forward before Telios grabbed the hem of his shirt. One gentle tug before promptly letting go, their arms falling by their side, their shoulders tense. 

Gently, he sat down beside her, scooting a bit to get closer and leaning his head on their shoulder. No sound but circuitry humming, the outside quiet even with the door ajar.

He remembers stopping by the galley and finding Itaph, cooking alone as always. Having awoken early that day, he thought they might need some company. They didn’t ask about it, surprisingly, focusing on stirring whatever it was they were making: yet another form of silence. Itaph told him, then. 

When Telios talked about the things they liked, they would be a completely different person altogether. Something cheerful, innocent, confident. There was something bittersweet in his voice, something that told him there was more to it. Aelyeau wasn’t the type to pry further. 

Where was that person now, when there was nobody else to speak to? They were both truths. They were both Telios. The sight beside him, he realised, was the effect of perhaps, everything, or nothing at all. 

This was all it took for them to cry.

He thought about Zyx again, after that.

———

He was banging on the door, his arms hurting, his lungs barely taking in enough air. At some point, his legs had given out, his body now half-leaning against the metal frame.

“Come out, Oryi. Please. Don’t stay in there. You didn’t…it wasn’t…” The hitting of something was his only reply. Every once in a while, there was a muffled noise, before it was back to striking. 

Two weeks. Two weeks of bottling all of this up. He couldn’t choose whether he prefered this or noiselessness, but both were equally bad. He just wanted to help.

Someone was approaching, the clang of metal on metal easy enough to recognize. Lotti stopped beside him, squatting to survey the keyhole.

“Hello. I do not know what mistake I made. I’d like to fix it. The others were unable to convince me to stay in the room.”

Sigh.

“It’s locked—” A click resounded, a strange metal object in the other’s hand. Whatever it was, it worked, the door swinging open with ease. Like a deer caught in headlights, Zyx’s expression was frenzied, a million emotions flashing by at once. 

She was teetering, swaying from side to side, visibly indecisive as to whether to fight or flight. Her entire face was red, sweat trickling down her skin, blood on the knuckles of her hands and smeared on her cheeks. No words were said. Zyx tilted a bit more to the left, imbalanced, one foot leaving the ground as she finally toppled over. 

She never hit the ground. 

Lotti was there in a second, slowly settling her down on the floor. “Belated apologies for not catching you in time when we first met. You’re hurt.” Gasping for air she could barely take in, Zyx trembled. 

“Breathe,” Aelyeau tried, regaining the strength to move to where she was after closing the door behind him. His words fell on deaf ears. What was wrong? This wasn’t just about the battery, he could tell. 

It was awfully quiet.

In space, all their problems were theirs and theirs only. Nobody was going to hear them outside this small place they adapted for themselves. 

She wasn’t breathing, because she didn’t think she could. Zyx had forgotten how to be alive, the months that followed beyond her small little corner of her own lonely universe, the two weeks that dwindled away in not-stasis.

“Hey,” Aelyeau started once again. “We don’t care what you do. You don’t have to hold back. Scream if you want.” 

So, she does. 

It started small. A noise escaped her, a small, stuttered, breathless exclamation. Testing the waters. Lotti let her punch wildly, beating fists on her frame. Too light to have ever done anything of harm; too heavy to not be meaningful. A crescendo, a wave parted in two at its climax as she shouted herself hoarse. 

It was a loud thing, a broken thing, tapering into disjointedly incomprehensible sentences from some bygone language and then words that simply couldn’t come out anymore, voice worn ragged. She could breathe now, after exhausting herself. Tension couldn’t coexist with that.

Zyx pulled her legs inwards, curling up. Clutching at Lotti’s clothes like touch wasn’t enough, grip leaving creases on her cloak. There was no comfort to cold metal, but yet, and yet, Lotti was the closest thing to her, tugging her into her lap. 

It was an easy thing to do, simply being there, and he realised: he must have been that anchor. He still was. Eyes still searching for escape, they landed on him and locked in place, together with the rest of her body. Trying to match his breathing. 

In, out.

———

“I heard you drove the ship,” Lotti mused, tilting her head. The others had gone to get some much needed sleep, it would seem, or possibly another sleep-deprived task. Preferably the former. 

Zyx had separated herself from her after calming down, the three of them sitting in a small little circle, Aelyeau barely paying attention to the conversation as he took out a roll of bandages from its package. He should have gone back to his room, but she understood when this kind of thing was needed.

“You told me you wouldn’t go anywhere near the wheel.” Lotti hoped her voice was enough to convey what she wanted. At her words, the other averted her gaze, a slightly sad smile failing to be hidden.

“Eh. It’s fine, I guess,” she said, shrugging.

“Kyrai’is told me you did a good job at it, for your first time on this kind of ship. Itaph’ri also conveyed to me the chemical makeup of your ship’s battery. They are good adaptations. I will ensure I don’t make the same mistake again. And Telios installed a temperature sensor for me.”

“Good? You joking? I nearly killed you with my stupid project.” A gust of wind swept through the room, brought on by a flap of her wings.

“My calculations conclude that it increases the efficiency of energy supply by 230%. You’re a ‘natural’, if my wordbank is not failing me.”

Aelyeau scoffed, pulling the gauze over Zyx’s hand as she took a sharp inhale, hands still raw. “That’s an understatement. Oryi’s great. You should’ve seen our ship.” A half-hearted shove with her other hand. Lotti could see him biting the inside of his cheek. “Sorry.”

“Don’t apologise. This one’s pretty alright too, isn’t it? Even if the autopilot and navigation systems are pretty…sucky. It’s…very spacious.”

“You want to talk about boosters and stuff, don’t you.” Now, she was glaring daggers at him. “Called it. Ship nerd.”

“The ships at PAGE would be of your interest, I should expect.” 

Not the ones she’d ever been in, but she had the pleasure of testing one, once. There were so many controls and linkages it managed to make even her a little overwhelmed. The Cicada wasn’t too advanced; she found herself thankful at times.

“Mhm.”

“Never seen the interior of one…wait, who said that?” 

Lotti gestured to the doorway where the three other members of the crew stood, Kyrai waving at them too enthusiastically to have ever been asleep. Telios’s face was half buried in their blanket, fluorescent lights indubitably bothersome as they squinted blearily and tried not to trip on the loose folds. The outside of the training room was dark, the lights powered off without any other occupants requiring them.

Itaph ambled in first, squatting down to inspect the bandaged hand, Zyx tugging her arm away from the offending person.

“You tied it too tightly. And you didn’t wash it first.” Blunt as always.

“Oh, enlighten me, almighty one, I am but a lowly peasant,” Aelyeau replied, doing as best of a bow as he could while sitting.

“So I shall.”

Zyx groaned. “I am not the patient here, go away.”

“Lotti’s fine. Your point? Want to overheat like her?” Back and forth, back and forth.

Scene one. The minor wrestling match goes on for a while before Zyx gives in, reluctantly letting Itaph inspect her fully and help. Telios checks up on her one final time while describing the different types of ship-related features and the sheer marvel that battery was, the other listening on. When Lotti finishes compiling one final report internally to prove functionality, Telios has long since been sound asleep. 

Scene two. Aelyeau yawns, resting his head on the palm of his hand, and proceeds to shift himself so the singular blanket covers him, sound asleep. Zyx goes next, of course, attempting and failing to blink away fatigue. Tomorrow, the blanket would be on her instead.

Scene three. Following suit is Itaph, the cold of the floor more comfortable to him than not. Then, satisfied, Kyrai slumps against the other bodies, relaxing.

Scene four. All is quiet. All is well. 

[End log entry, fade to black.]

——

scuffed a/n + analysis (please tell me this works)

[pink-pumpkin-princess-bitch]

Soooooo I've been thinking of writing a Loop-centric Isat fanfiction, and I'm in very early stages of desicions with it. So I wanted to do my own take on a Human Loop design, with the idea that getting a physical idea of what I want Loop to look like will help influence some of the earlier chapters (Since my brain is thinking of later chapters way too much).

Design Choices and Thoughts below the cut, with spoilers and a whole lot of rambling!

So firstly, technically, there's actual colours I chose there. I'm not gonna spell out everything, but the jacket features an oxblood red leather and some yellow highlights. Their right eye was red (blind left eye is black with white pupil cus it's still blind), and the necklace's gem was a bright shining yellow like a star. The metals feature Gold, Rose Gold, and Silver mainly. All of these I manually shifted into greyscale. It looks very funny with the rainbow in the background.

The first big choice I made was to add so many scars. Like jesus so many. I was inspired by a fic called The Art of Sharing by Kamary on AO3 which has Loop keep the injuries they sustain in the loops. I had some different ideas though. Specifically, each scar Loop has is from something that damaged them more than once. Each one is a reminder of a mistake repeated. The more it repeated the more visible the scar. I have some bigger ideas for some specific scars to implement but the biggest one, clearly, is the hand.

Or more, the Arm. Loop favoured an arm for dunking into the tears to loop back, and they where recklace with it. While I like how Kamary did a similar thing, I had a different idea for it. What if they burned. What if they melted. What if whatever became of your hand or arm was just not compatible with You anymore. So, Loop now doesn't have their right arm. And they get a Crafted prosthetic. I wanna make this a continuous point in the fic. I imagine most have Change God imagery, and I imagine that makes Loop a tad... uncomfortable. I imagine them dealing with a basic one but then learning how to make one themself. Add onto how they hate being in any House Of Change now, as all of them, in a little way, of the House Of Dormont, and they struggle to learn nearly as easily as they could. Eventually, they make something their happy with. Something sharp and sleek and shiny and Different. (As a general rule I like to think people with different kinds of Craft at their disposal end up generallly having different affects on the things they use their Craft on. A Craft doll made by Odile would be different from one made by Isabeau, for instance. With how much Wish Craft Loop has, I imagine anything they make to look a bit Different).

Now for the outfit itself. I do love seeing people embrace Loop being more open to showing skin, and with the scars too it makes for a striking look. And I think that's the biggest key difference between Loop and Siffrin. Loop uses Confidence and Flamboance as their shield, as their diversion from their insecurities. I remember seeing someone mention about how, when they walk into a room looking visually striking, coloured hair and piercings, everyone in the room knows 1 thing about them. But by those people's reactions to that person, they know Everything they need to know about those people. I feel like Loop would lean into that heavily. Odile is smart and catches onto things quickly. Isabeau equally so and even more emotionally intellegent. And Loop uses their abrasiveness to gauge people extremely quickly. In a way Loop's disregard for how people see them helps them here. This influenced a lot of how I designed them, using these as key points of difference with Siffrin.

The hat had the least thought in it. Loop feels lost without a hat, but refuses to take Siffrin's and refuses to have anything like Siffrin's hat. They spent so long being someone other than Siffrin. In a way, it helps them cope with losing their own party. Helps them move on. It also on the same note helps them ignore how much it affects them. This hat is technically the Plague Doctor hat acording to Heroforge. I just took it as a decent leather hat with a brim. Enough to distinguish themselves from Siffrin, but close enough in feel to their old hat. They absolutly needed something with some kind of brim, both because they hate the sun and because they, like Siffrin, love hiding their face when they're having emotions.

The jacket I thought a lot about. I wanted them to have something long but not as long as Odile's. They like flowy things, but also something more open. Also, pockets and belts to stash and hide things. If anything they're more prone to picking up everything not bolted down than Siffrin! This combined with the simplest and nicest tanktop/binder tied the whole thing together. Very 'Hot Girl Shit' vibes.

The glove was because handling things without Siffrin's gloves felt extremely weird. They needed something. But also, damn their nails look killer with the dark varnish on, matches their makeup so nicely! They absolutly NEED to show that off or they will DIE!! They chose one with metal knuckles because at any moment they need the ability to deck someone. It's how they use their Rock crafts, with a mean Left Hook (They're debating renaming one of them to "Left Plot Hook" to keep the puns but also dipping into specifically narrative puns. This is a debate between Sif and Loop and sometimes the rest of the party through the whole fic).

The necklace was because they've grown so, so used to something shimering and shining under their chin, they needed something bright again. It draws the eye. It catches people's attention. It was a gift from Isabeau because "it reminded him of how they looked before being human" and Loop's heart decided to remind them it exists with a vengance and now Loop refuses to take it off ever. It just looks neat that's all there is to it yep.

Loop found a section in a shop dedicated to belts and decided then and there that they where gonna wear multiple. They now strive to collect one from every town they visit. It also adds to the Pretty Noise agenda a little. But not as much as

THE BOOTS!! Loop finds them in the armoury and is immedietly captivated, but then remembers The King. Those Gauntlets. And then ponders if knightly armour is a generally attractive thing where they're from, not that Siffrin ever indulged. But then they put them on and THEY GO CLINK CLINK WHEN THEY WALK!! They're suprisingly quiet, the heel making the most noise. They CAN be louder if they want, but all their sensibilities as a Rouge lets them be at least a bit quiet in them. AND THEY SHINE AND THEY GO CLINK CLINK AND THEY'RE STRIKING AND THEY HAVE TO HAVE THEM! Ahem. I mean. They do look nice. They're not Giddy over boots. Stop smiling like that.

For now this is their main gear, but I can imagine them getting more clothes as they go on. Stars they want changes of clothes. Different outfits. Before the loops they could never care about fasion or makeup or anything but now, anything for a Change. It's funny, they do have to admit how nice the freedom of Changing is, even if it's just clothes.

Anyway that's my rambles for now! I think I could go on for hours but I've already written so much! If I don't stop now I'll just start writing the fanfiction here!! Please share your thoughts with me my brain is going so so fast and I love seeing human Loop thoughts (this sin't even all my human Loop thoughts this is just what matters to the outfit).

[fandomstars]

Hi :) I was wondering if I could request tbb boys with a male Jedi boyfriend? (With orange light sabers/saber since that's the color I have and it is pretty uncommon to see in the star wars universe. Also maybe have the reader be trans?)

(Sorry can’t do Trans/non-binary/poly/genderfluid. I’ve never done so and I don’t have enough knowledge to do so. Plus, I don’t want to offend anyone. The rest though I can do!)

Bad Batch x Male Jedi

Hunter:

First thing that caught his eye was the orange saber. He didn’t know too much about Jedi like Tech and Echo, but he knew enough that something was different about him.

It took him a few seconds to realize like yeah, and he’s also good looking.

Cue him being between flustered and trying to seem cool in the Jedi’s presence.

His brothers tease him ridiculously, especially since Hunter is usually the least likely to romanticize with anyone.

So when Hunter began to actually have feelings for said Jedi, it didn’t help Tech managed to find out enough about him to add him as the batch’s first Jedi.

Y/N didn’t really find out of just why the batch with the reputation of ‘No need to a jedi, we got a Hunter’ were so nice to him. Of course he had a crush on Hunter, I mean have you seen his hair?

Y/N was just as flustered around him, and even more so once the two began to get closer and go into battle together.

Let’s just say Hunter might do the first kiss due to the heat of battle more than anything.

—-

Crosshair:

Crosshair might of gotten a glance at him from afar one time, can’t say exactly how he ended up at the sparring room, but there he was battling a couple of training droids. Despite usually not interested in Jedi stuff, he couldn’t help but watch the entire training session.

Said Jedi knew someone was watching him, it didn’t help the force seem to draw some sort of connection to the mysterious person. (Force ships hard!)

Crosshair waits till he stops training (trying hard to hide the blush of being turned on by the Jedi decapitating the two training droids in one move. Not that he’ll admit it) to ask him for a drink.

The Jedi accepts, which has Crosshair wondering if he’s an imposter. No way a goodie twos Jedi would indulge in alcohol.

“It’s not that, Jedi occasionally drink alcohol (once of age), they just either do so in secret or rarely one forgets they do.” - Y/N

“I don’t drink alcohol, but the milkshakes at Dexters are the best.” - Y/N

Which leads the pair to the 79s bar, followed by Dexters for their first date.

First kiss happens the first place they meet, cause that training move basically made Crosshair this time, not try to hide his excitement and adoration.

——

Tech:

First thing he thought when he saw you was, ‘I can totally get more knowledge on Jedi lore from him!”

Wasn’t till he actually came up to you, that he became partially speechless on your beauty, but also flustered and stuttering of his request.

You smile and accept helping him learn more of Jedi lore, which makes him even more red.

So starts the two of you study dates. Tech rambling, yet blushing since you basically lean to his every word each time.

First kiss happens by your first move, followed by Tech nearly going all out passion before realizing the two of you are in the archives.

Tech knows Jedi have rules about dating and so on, but thanks to his intelligence, is able to loop hole around it and eventually let it be public (beyond his brother and sister) without any fear.

Loves to shower his lover with gifts, especially if you bring back some cool item on one of your missions.

——

Echo:

Unlike the rest of the batch, he’d already seen plenty of Jedi fighting and knew a lot of lore (the guy carried a manual a good portion of his life after all).

Still, it wasn’t to say he wasn’t impressed by Y/N’s moves, and once he became the batch’s Jedi, he was crushing hard.

He basically was the perfect gentleman for you. Making sure you got off the ship okay (hand holding bonus), back you up in battle (he surprisingly felt more alive fighting side by side with you)

He didn’t confess his feelings for awhile, mainly due to being part cyborg and all.

But you didn’t care, in fact, it got you to show him one of your favorite holo shows with a cyborg character.

Made him feel better, and it was during said binging holo dates, that he made a move.

Loves to see you use the force, maybe more way than one if you know what he means.

Will not let any Sith hurt you is he can help it. Beware Grevious and more.

——

Wrecker:

This guy is the king of the party, so it’s no surprise first meet up was at the 79s bar.

He was just chilling with his brothers, when across the bar he spots you.

He is usually upbeat and social, but he could literally feel his palms sweating just wondering what he should do.

His brothers encourage him, and so he does, and good timing too. Some drunk brute tries to assault you.

He cracks his knuckles and gets ready to throw hands. But then he sees you (after the brute knocks your drink off the bar) circle throw him into a nearby table before calmly asking the bartender for another drink.

Yeah, he was smitten. And the night seem to go by like that, and before he knew it, he was leaving the bar with his brothers, with your pad number in hand.

First kiss was defiantly after a usual sparring date, and it may of gotten heated.

Loves to show you affection, no Jedi or clone can stop him.

[brsb4hls]

Loki spoilers, full ep reaction 2x4:

.

.

.

*OB not actually getting to sign his book is becoming a thing huh?

*so who wrote the handbook? Another loop.

*Mobius continues being a little shit. 'Loki will have to hoof it', and Loki playing along just to be antagonistic, very cute Loki, we'll know you'll volunteer anyways (he's the most powerful and durable being there, apart from Sylvie, who's still finding here place)

*already made a post about, but yeah, Mobius will have to reflect himself at one point, you can't keep eating your problems

*another Thor mention! You know, you could actually let the sun shine ahain on the Brodinsons, nobody stopping you, sigh. I still have hope.

*yeah we remember who exactly made Thor soft. Too bad that Sylvie triggered Loki's development but is still stuck a bit herself. Here's hoping that even if they don't end up together they'll at least resolve their issues.

That talk was a good start.

*Ok, Loki himself called it, he's going to be timekeeper, but a better one? We'll see how that will work out in the end, but if it means full power!Loki I'm in

*Ravonna went overboard there, no need in crushing anyone really, she could have just left with Brad (not the best choice in the end)

*Course Loki pruned himself, everyone's been calling that since ep 1. Still cool scene, he was so shaken and Sylvie must have went through a real rollercoaster there.

*the Lokis getting their magic back, best scene

*Now Ravonna's back in the void, ok, if you don't get eaten by Alioth or other variants that's not too bad.

*Miss Minutes getting set back to actual clock, fun. I mean, OB and Casey don't need here, they're smart enough to handle stuff manually and Loki as timekeeper won't need her either, but still, is she really gone or will she be reset?

*ngl Victor being all heroic and brave and the dramatic built up only to have him get spaghettified instantly was pretty funny.

Don't think he's gone though, seems to important, plus there's probably going to be a reset, so, we'll see.

Next ep's gonna be a lot if time loopy fun and a very exhausted Loki, I think.

[symphonic-scream]

No one asked but here's more from the

Niijima Twins Au

In case anyone seeking this is out of the loop, this is an au where Makoto and Goro are twins, Shido is their biological father, but they were raised by Niijima Sr until his death

--

They were super close growing up. Holding hands as they walked to school, sharing everything they got, using every excuse to see the other at school when they were in different classes over the years

Like, they wanted to match as kids. If there was something sold in multiple colours, Makoto would get the blue, and Goro the red. Sneakers, blankets, and even matching cat and dog plushies when they reached primary school. The red dog sits behind a law book in Goro's room. Makoto's blue cat is carefully placed on her pillow each morning, next to her Buchimaru plush

They only really started to split apart after their dad died, and, they found out that he wasn't their biological father. Makoto felt that since their bio dad never reached out, he didn't want them. Goro needed to know who he was. Needed him to love him.

They were 14. Makoto started to feel the stress of always being second, never number one. Goro killed his first target for their Father. They no longer walked to school together. They didn't speak up at dinner, sitting as far from each other as possible. Both felt the loneliest they ever have

A few years pass of this. Makoto finally gets something, she's Student Council President; Goro is named the Second Detective Prince. Shujin's top two students, Goro Niijima, and Makoto Niijima. In that order. One grows angrier and angrier by the day, while the younger falls asleep after pouring over study manuals, tears gathering as she knows it won't be enough, she'll never be enough

Kamoshida confesses.

Madarame cries on Natiomal Television.

"ALL YOU DO IS EAT AWAY AT MY LIFE!"

"Oh, dear sister, don't you get it? You're just a pushover, another stepping stone on my path to success."

"WHY CAN'T YOU BE MORE LIKE YOUR BROTHER?! AT LEAST HE DOESN'T ASK SUCH SILLY QUESTIONS. ...I'll be eating out from now on."

A contract is formed. The status quo changes.

"CHARGE, JOHANNA!"

--

Things get worse before they get better for them. Goro knows who the Thieves are. He knows he has to eliminate his sister to preserve their Father's wishes. Secretly, he hopes he can simply scare her off with the death of their leader. Maybe she's smart enough not to go against him?

But no, things don't work that way, and in the depths of a ship, Goro makes the ultimate sacrifice. For the Phantom Thieves. For his Joker, his Rival, his one Love.

For his sister.

The Niijima's mourn in darkness. The apartment feels colder, too quiet. Makoto throws a hefty law book to the ground, and holds that red dog so tightly it might just fuse with her fraying heart. Sae doesn't know how she's going to live with herself, blaming herself

But, nothing severe comes. After a God is taken down, he appears in Shibuya. Goro Niijima falls to the pavement, crying silently as Sae sobs into his messy hair, as Makoto calls him stupid, an iron grip on his jacket

He isn't supposed to be alive, but fuck it. They got their second chance at a healthy family, and they're going to fucking take it

--

Okay done with that section lemme just go off on the After shit for a bit

Goro is there for Strikers! He and Makoto take turns driving, so neither gets too cramped up, though the Haru joyride does happen cause I love that bit

They don't get closer overnight. That shit takes a long time to repair. But, they both got into the same University. Goro for Psychiatry, Makoto for Social Work. They share a dorm, with two bedrooms and a living room. With each day, the ice melts little by little

Now for some fluffier and funnier bits!

Like. They'd be the most emo karaoke duo. Like, they'd go all out of the equivalent of MCR songs, pouring their little emo hearts into it. Their first shopping trip together while healing their relationship is to a Hot Topic.

Dark Academia Goro, and Grunge baby punk Makoto, fighting the urge to flip off cops as they walk together to a shared class. They sit in the back of the lecture and share looks like "we know more than this clown"

They're both banned from Scrabble and Risk on Game Nights. Just like how Haru is banned from Monopoly and Futaba from Clue

Makoto has her motorcycle, it's her baby, yeah yeah. Goro with his piece of shit car that he swears is the best thing on the road, he has it named (Robin) and doesn't let anyone eat in the car or anything

Also they're both gay. Haru practically lives in their dorm by the second week, and there's rarely a moment when Goro's not calling or texting Akira from his hometown

Anyways. I missed this au. Feel free to talk to me about it or ask about jt

[tobiasdrake]

Episode 13: Endless Eight, Part 2

I have been chomping at the bit all day to find out if I'm right.

YES. WE HAVE TIME LOOP. Haruhi is going to endlessly loop these last couple weeks of summer so that she can enjoy it eternally.

Kyon doesn't seem aware of it, which surprised me. He has a bit of deja vu....

But he's not fully cognitive of the fact that he's already done this before. I'm honestly surprised by that. He's the Viewpoint Protag so I kinda figured the show would make excuses for him to be the only one that remembers.

Wonder if Yuki knows this is happening? She'd be the person most likely to wake up this morning and go, "Oh, time has looped around. Neat."

Already, things are a little different this time around. Haruhi doesn't seem to be aware of her own abilities in general but I think she's at least somewhat aware that she's done this before. Her behavior is slightly off.

She snapped at Kyon for being late, just like she did last time, but she didn't shriek "PENALTY PENALTY PEN-AL-TY!!!" at him. Loop 2 Haruhi is less impatient to get started. She just took note of his tardiness and then went straight to business.

Then again, that might not be indicative of anything. What's really weird about the loop is that everyone's wearing different clothes. We went from this on Loop 1:

To this on Loop 2:

Yuki's still wearing her school uniform but Haruhi, Mikuru, and Itsuki are dressed differently. Kyon also has a different outfit, though you can't see him in these shots.

So it's not a typical time loop where everything is exactly the same save for what gets directly influenced by the looper. Which makes sense because Haruhi's never demonstrated the ability to move time before.

Could she be looping events... the hard way?

Like. Okay. Hear me out. There's an episode of Futurama that introduces a crazy-ass form of space travel. Where, instead of propelling the ship through space, the ship's engines push the entire universe around it. It remains in one place while the universe is forced to move. Traveling through space the hard way.

Could Haruhi be moving through time in a similar fashion? Like. Erasing everyone's memories and warping the universe around them in order to put the sun and Earth back where they were two weeks ago? So the events did happen but now they're going to happen again because Haruhi manually rewound the universe? But with the small details like everybody's laundry baskets left where they were?

I dunno. I'm probably way off base. Might just be probabilistic or something. But. This is kind of fascinating, for how it's not exactly a time loop yet is.

Itsuki, like, Kyon, seems unaware of what's happening but he's got vague flashes of memory related to Loop 1.

Wonder if Loop 1 is actually Loop 1 or if we've been looping for a while and are only now noticing?

Yuki seems bothered by something. Which makes me think she might be aware of the loop. She took some time at the pool to be off by herself and just have introvert time in Loop 1 too, but there she looked like this.

Her posture was much more open, as if she was simply staring into space and thinking. Loop 2 Yuki looks like she's having an existential crisis.

Mikuru still wants to scoop goldfish and makes no indication of anything out of the ordinary.

As the time traveler, you'd think Mikuru would be the first to realize something's off about time. But Mikuru's not very good at her job because she's mainly in this show to be the object of Kyon's ogling and Haruhi's harassment.

[lethedwarddavidsonworld-blog]

Signalis Doom - 4

Another mixed bag of a day, largely spent on textures. Did you know video games tend to have alot of them? So today's issue came from me grappling with the fact that what's good for Signalis texturing is not good for Doom texturing. At first, i didn't see the issues though. Signalis's Textures are all actually at or around doom's texture resolutions, and it's sprite sheets can easily be chopped up into good looking walls and pillars and such.

The problem comes from two places. 1. these are textures made to wrap around a 3d model, not laid out along a floor or a solid wall, so i had to figure out exactly how i was going to chop it up. Do i have a few solid pieces? do i chop it up into a dozen small ones so i have the most control? the answer is it's gonna vary.

For example. here's a chunk of the Penrose and it's wall texturing. The entire room is one model, and every part of it(including the lil' spires in the corners) are all pulling from the same sheet. Each part is meant for dif stuff, which explains why some chunks are much brighter, or darker, than others. That's great for UVing, but i don't really know what i'm supposed to do with something like this. What do i do with the clearly darker chunk of wall? Sometimes, there are walls that have a lil' extra line on the bottom, or the top, and i don't know why. I think they'd texture rooms so that dif parts would look better to the camera angle. That's great for their angle, but a bit odd in first person.

I mean it guess it's not that weird, but i think it'd have to edit it to have a more natural falloff or somesuch. It doesn't look great ported as-is, and this problem comes up alot (this is a minor example tbh) 2. Doom's textures more often than not are expected to look acceptable when used on large surfaces. This means floors and walls and such need to be able to tile (or repeat forever) cleanly, but without drawing too much attention to the repetition. Like a walking loop, you don't want a specific action to pop too much because it'll call attention to the loop.

Signalis's textures, however, are often very small textured tiled very aggressively. It's something that you don't think much about in a slow game from a pulled back perspective. However, once you're low to the ground and moving at a clip, not only do you notice the repetition, but it can honestly get a bit nauseating to see the patterns whoosh by.

the floor textures look like this. Most areas are made up of the middle tile in the ring, with the ring parts often running along walls. The bits on the righjt and bottom are often used to break up the visuals. At first, i thought this would be a big problem. The 32x32 tiles just repeat too hard to look good. However, i am a dummy, and forgot that this is pretty easily solved by breaking the ground up and slotting those tiles in.

Now, it's more work than it'd be on a 3d model, cuz i'm gonna need to remember to do this manually. But, that solves the problem of using the little details. Doesn't really solve this tiled floor being a nightmare to see stretch on forever, but at least it's something. --- I spent a bit of time working on getting some 3d models and stuff into the game as a test, which didn't go great. The community models for the characters are fantastic, however, they don't deform well when converted to the .md3 format.

GZDoom doens't used fbx files, it uses OBJ for static stuff, and MD3 (an old quake 3(?) file type) for stuff with animations. It's an old old format, and only really works via a couple of blender addons or old modeling programs. Conversion from obj/fbx/ect to md3 can always be funky, i don't really know why, it just can be. Sometiems it works, or sometimes you need to model in md3 from scratch. i don't know how far i'm gonna go with that. I also played aroudn with getting sprite turnarounds of the characters. However, that's going to take it's own tech setup that i didn't give much time to today.

Overall, a pretty frustrating day, but i got alot more stuff in-engine and figured out mass naming schemes and so on. I can't say i've really solved any problem, but I'm gonna pretend noticing the problems is progress in-of-itself. So uhh, i dunno, hey do you wanna see Ariane's bathroom? god, poor girl, 20(?????) years in that tube and this is what she's got to work with.

(the blender scene is not mine, it was assembled by a very skilled person on the signalis discord. all credit goes to whoever did it, they're a godsend)

[trappper-johnathan]

The MASH time loop but it's Don't Hug Me I'm Scared style in that all the characters are stuck in the loop but they take turns being aware of it ((the phrase "passing the consciousness around like a blunt" comes to mind))

Cause there are certain episodes where it seems like some of the characters have more clarity of the situation than others. An example off the top of my head is Trapper in Mail Call with his "it's continuous" comment. Now consider his actions in that episode vs in Dr. Pierce and Mr. Hyde where he says Hawkeye is turning into a fruitcake cause of his breakdown. If you look at it through my view, his different attitude is because he's not quite aware of the time loop in Dr. Pierce and Mr. Hyde. He also has another big moment of clarity in Cease-Fire, and is the only character in that episode who is aware of the time loop. He doesn't get his hopes up cause the war isn't ending. It will continue on and on and on and they're all gonna remain right where they are.

@thebreakfastgenie has an analysis on Henry Blake knowing he's doomed to die in Abyssinia, Henry, but I also think Radar knows. Obviously he's emotional about Henry leaving, which is why he cries when they salute each other, but that last part of the episode in the OR when he comes in to break the news, it struck me as a little odd. Yes, people show their grief in different ways, but his body language and the tone of his voice kinda stuck me as...disappointment? Or at least an emotion along the lines of disappointment, almost like he was kind of resigned to it. The way his body sags and the way he says it with a sort of bone-tired sadness rather than a fresh wound makes me feel like he knew it was going to happen. Because it's happened before. And maybe that time would have been different, but no. Henry never makes it home, no matter how many times they do this. And he just... He just wishes it didn't have to be that way but it is. And he's gotta be the one who tells the others.

I think it's safe to say that Hawkeye is the one who is conscious of the time loop most often (The Late Captain Pierce is a great Hawkeye Sees It episode), but sometimes it feels like even he doesn't see it. I would say that the episodes in which he's the most out of character are the ones where the veil is thickest.

That's sort of where the DHMIS thing comes in for me, where he (or any character, really) will say/do something that makes the viewer go, "Hang on, that's not quite right." Cause when that happens it almost feels like the character is being puppeted by someone/thing, and so of course they would do something they wouldn't normally do, because it's not actually them. Now that's getting kind of deep into the time loop thing, where it's not just a strange phenomenon occurring, but instead some outside Being manually controlling the story.

You could say that the writers are the ones who keep them trapped in the time loop. You could even say it's the viewers, too! When I watched GFA and I finished crying my eyes out after Hawkeye was flown away at the end, my immediate thought was "I should rewatch the show from the beginning" and my second thought was "If I start back at the beginning, I have continued the loop and Hawkeye never makes it out of Korea." Which made me cry a little more tbh, but it also kind of made me laugh. Here I am, rooting for this tortured man to get back home and get well, and then I'm going to start back at "Korea, 1950. A hundred years ago" and put them right back where they began to suffer over again.

ANYWAY, back to what I was originally saying: they're all stuck in the time loop, and they're all aware of it but at different times and to different degrees.

[lunarsilkscreen]

Two More Zelda Theories (Z1 Timelines)

The first Zelda Game was also the first to introduce "Master Quest". The master quest is like a randomizer before randomizers were a thing. With the intention of making the game more challenging, but still feeling fresh and retain the qualities the designers and devs imposed on the original game.

But there's one way to access the Master Quest without beating the game. (Which is the requirement to unlock it.)

The original Manual says that "The Hero" doesn't exist until you make them. And the original character delete mode sounded more like "unaliving" the main character that you had created.

Which already gives us two endings created by the Devs. Either you beat Ganon, or don't. OR, worse than giving up, you unregister your character. The player (or to Link, God) chooses which ending through these methods.

And then there's the Third; the master quest. Which you unlock either by completing the game, or creating an entirely new character named "Zelda".

This implies that the Master Quest, at least the original one, was taken on by Zelda herself. Which isn't that far off from the actual story written about the game.

Zelda splits the Triforce of Wisdom into pieces, and hides them. And then Link, goes to collect them. This means that Zelda had to go hide them in the first place, and did.

And did so in a different order than Link found them. (possibly even changing how Link has to tackle the dungeons in the process, making them easier to do.)

I've talked on a few other Theories, such as Zelda disguising herself as Link to take on Z2, and Zelda herself being the child referenced in Z64s future timeline who originally played the song of storms for the windmill man. And therefore completed the well sections, releasing Bongo Bongo, but unlike in Link's timeline, didn't kill "Death Hand" who grew up to be Bongo Bongo.

Did I forget to write about that here? Well, since there's no such thing as time loops in Zelda (outside closed ones like Majora's Mask that happen simultaneously and also not at all)

No, the banker doesn't remember Link, he just stamped the amount of rupees he has stored with that bank on his hand. Probably something he does for all the kids there since like ... A hundred rupees is the equivalent of 1 USD. (or rather 1 rupee is equivalent 1 penny or 1 yen) and seriously, if they tried to take him for more than a hundred bucks, he'd notice..because adult wallets only hold like 2 dollars.

In the future timeline, there is no Link. In Z64 there are two possibilities. The first is in Links dream at the beginning of the game, where he sees himself die by Ganon's hand. The Second, when the event actually comes to pass, Ganon just rides past him. He doesn't even recognize him.

These two possibilities give rise to the Future timeline where Zelda is from. And Why Zelda is upset both that Link came to future (and missed out on his childhood) but had to be sent back. To Zelda, this meant one of two things; sending him back to his own death, or to a time where he actually belonged.

Because she *watched* him die.

That means the fairy child in future timeline, was Zelda dressed as Link (or even Shiek) and took on the "Master Quest" herself. The limitations of recreating all the cutscenes means the dev team decided not to.

Or What if, The future Zelda swapped places with Link? (Or even Linkle? If you wanna take it a step further.) And that's why She watched him die. Because Ganon didn't recognize *her*.

I'm not going to go into the implications of Majora's Mask and being about the "Death of Link". Because I think it's about something else entirely. (Overcoming a "failed" timeline.)

The famous final cutscene of Z64 is Link returning to the past to meet with Zelda for a second time.

What if; that's when they switched places.

Because Zelda was killed after her escape.