#I could never maintain that level of neatness

[couthbbg]

I know you unliked my post because you’re “clearing out your likes” but do you still love me? is the marriage still on??

[bunji-enthusiast]

I'M IN LOVE WITH YOUR WRITING!!!! 💕💕

No joke, I love reading your stuff! It always has me kicking and giggling :}

I hope you're not stressing yourself out with the writing tho!! I know you prod want it perfect or close enough to it, but please remember it always doesn't have to be 💕

I love dogday as much as the next person but- huggy was my first and even tho you barely even write him I still end up loving him so much when you do lol. I really liked your jealousy one! I was hoping you could do one with huggy?? With an employee reader pls. So sorry if that's every little information, not rlly the best at requesting still.

Tysm!! 💕💕

{So sorry if I send this when request r closed}

Jealous, Jealous Toy

Note || AHHH your so sweet, absolutely I’ll try to write Huggy for this :)

WC || 642

Sypnosis || What happens when a jealous toy gets possessive of an employee?

Order was an important piece to your life, you liked to be orderly and keep things to an absolute T. Even if it had meant fraternizing with your superiors, though you weren’t much of a sociable person really. Being more so closed off and introverted, you simply had opted to be straightforward and cold when necessary, never to employees younger then you or even lower then your position at Playtime Co.

Many had viewed you as odd when you began talking to the life-sized huggy, made real and ready to always interact with children. Benign enough to be harmless one would guess, just nobody would ever truly understand the level of ferocity one would possess if you were there. If anyone in the room had seen the same thing you did when that very event had happened, nothing was estranged enough to be sure – yet you still couldn’t explain it to this day.

Huggy Wuggy was interesting, strange but very cuddly to hug (as he was made to do). You always had thought he was neat, clean and cool to a point. 

“Hey Huggy! How are you?” Yet ever as always, the Huggy Wuggy statue had remained cold and conclusive, never moving unless it was in strange specific circumstances. “Right.” You never expected him to move anyway, another voice had snapped you out of your thoughts. 

“Hey brat.” Your superior, though he was one of the many, he was like an older brother to you. You thought he was lazy for lack of a better word, but his work ethics and accountability of words from other employees had proved that otherwise. You let out a large breath, stifling a feigned huff. “Yo, what’s your deal Daniel?” You asked him.

He nodded his head at your weaponized words, then walked up to you, laying a hand on your shoulder. “Just needing you to fill out some paperwork, ain’t nothing major then I’ll–” A choked noise escaped his throat, causing you to look up from where you stood, eyeing him wearily as you began to get concerned as to why he looked so pale.

“Daniel.. You alright man?” His hand on your shoulder fell off from where it had laid so gently, Daniel’s other hand raised to the spot he seemed to be in such a ghostly panic about. You too had been shocked, seeing Huggy’s row of teeth hanging over Daniel’s head, you didn’t know what to do. Huggy never had behaved in such a way, leaving you to raise a brow – lips pursed as you maintained calm in the inconceivable silence. 

“Huggy..” You began, raising your hands as a gesture toward Daniel to back away slowly. “Chill out, that’s just my friend.” Daniel had obeyed you, inching away from Huggy who clearly seemed to be pissed off. Conveying a means of anger as his hands were outstretched toward Daniel ever so slightly, Daniel nodded once more and slowly he had done so, trying to get him to cool off at the same time as you were.

“Can you get him to stop.. This?” Daniel whisper-shouted, you shrugged. Then you looked up at Huggy, maintaining a sense of eye contact with his own eyes. It struck a sudden chill throughout your spine, causing you to flinch as you had noticed his murderous intent, now it was slowly dissipating the further away Daniel had gone. “I think he doesn’t like you very much, I’ll come later for those papers all right?” To which he had nodded with an exasperated sigh.

Finally once he was out of sight, Huggy seemed to be less tense now – teeth relaxed and resuming his original position. You sigh, crossing your arms as you try to coerce your own mind about the events that had happened just mere seconds ago.

“Jealousy is not a good look on you my friend.”

[0daylighthours0]

A Deep Dive into Milkvan and Byler's Development: If Milkvan Was Endgame All Along, Why Was it Written Like This???

SO. I've been rewatching st with my mother, who's never seen it before. And she was a fan of milkvan throughout seasons 1 and 2. Viewing those seasons again I could see why, they're cute. However, come season 3 and INSTANT distaste. And, listen, my mother is not the consciously shipping gal. She simply routes for main character pairings as writers intend, doesn't read between the lines, doesn't nothing. And she does NOT know my own opinions on the pairing. In other words, completely unbiased, uninternet drama influenced eyes. We've now reached season 3 and, after getting through a chunk of it, I asked her,

"so what do you think of Mike and El?"

and she expressed to me that they seem to be, quote:

"not very good together."

She said El's character doesn't suit the way she's acting now (in the first few episodes, concerning Mike), that Mike is more likeable and interesting when he's away from her. She doesn't like the way they ditched the party, and when it comes to their 'making out' the scenes are seen by her from Hopper's perspective (in other words, distasteful). She claimed that they'd be much better characters as friends.

And ya know what, she's right. And I mean like - duh, that's what we've been saying all this time, I'm not stating anything new here. But guys, wouldn't it be strange if the central couple of the show, pivotal that it is liked by audiences and is rooted for by them as they are THE pair, would be so dislikable like this? So uninteresting, so cliche.

I mean, okay, let's do a little mental experiment I like to do to test if I'm not just acting delulu. Let's play a game. In this game, milkvan ARE meant to be endgame. They are in love, they were all along, and they're here to draw in viewers and appease all El stans. Now, seasons 1 and 2 their relationship is honestly fine. Surface level, yeah, people will watch and appreciate them. They perfectly blend in with all the other neat pairings of the seasons, and have their own unique character traits to stand out as a main couple.

Just pretending our mate Will doesn't exist, we now get into season 3. Now, writers have nothing to lose here. If you've finished season 2, you probably like milkvan already. The issue is that they're already together now, so what's the conflict going to be? The arc? And every central couple needs that conflict to stay juicy.

Just take a look:

Jancy: quarrels, struggle to understand one another

Jopper: not yet together, one sided? will they won't they

Lumax: ...

Lumax? Lumax. Huh, guess they were simply together. Some loveable bickering, maintained a friendly dynamic while clearly in closer proximity. Well then, writers can do the same for milkvan right? Well, yes easily. But one might argue that since they are supposed to be THE pairing they need more going on between them than that. So what'll it be? Well, it seems that writers thought,

"hey, why not break them up?"

ok so.. that's a bit risky. I mean you want people to like this ship, if you break them up then that threats: 1. there being a disliking to one or both characters, 2. coming off generic if done incorrectly, 3. the break up might make no sense considering how in love they came off as just a season ago. But hey.. it could work, if done right. Some kind of misunderstanding, similar to Jancy. Maybe an argument leading to a sudden parting. I mean, yeah, Yeah! I can see that. Perhaps Mike is being too overprotective whilst El's trying to sacrifice herself for something, so she NEEDS to separate herself from him attempting to hurt him less. Or, I dunno, something akin. What's crucial is that us, AS THE AUDIENCE, still know them to be deeply in love. I mean, we have to still want them to be together. And we've seen couple trouble before. Just take a look at Lumax season 4 - did you or did you not want the best for both of them as a pair? You most likely did. See, it's doable. So did people like milkvan season 3 the same way, even after a separation plot? No.

Okay well, there are obviously those who'll always love milkvan no matter but, see, season 3 tainted it. "We need to write them like this cause it's more realistic to teenager behavior" my ars. You can make it messy without making it icky. Not only did it sour their unique dynamic, it flabbergastingly stomped on Mike as a character.

Honestly, I feel Mike has always been a mild struggle to write. Season 1 his motivations were 'find Will' (who still doesn't exist in our mind game yet shh) and 'protect El'. This worked well for him. Afterwards though, El and Will became more separate plots to him. But as a main character it remained integral that he be closely linked to them somehow. This sets him apart from Lucas and Dustin, who can easily be given any arc any season as their plots have the flexibility of a side quest nature. Since what Mike does is meant to matter more - with there probably being a better way of phrasing that but you know what I mean - it's harder knowing what he'll do when El and Will (who we'll GET to sh.) are their own separate people. And Mike is just a boy, he doesn't have super powers and he isn't a cop, which leaves there even less for him to do which is of significance. Season 2 writers decided upon having him support Will's arc, making himself of enough relevance by being able to take credit for some Will development in the story, and the plots that surrounded that, and then Mike was thrown a little bone by being the one to come up with the idea of burning those vines in the finale.

Truthfully, you don't really remember Mike's deeds much when reminiscing the series. It isn't like Dustin who's bond with Dart sticks to everyone, or Nancy and Jonathan responsible for kicking out Hawkins Lab. This is due to them, again, being able to traverse all sorts of adventures without limits. But my guy Mike can't do dat. Sadly, this kind of leads to him coming of as a little.. well... insignificant. And I know I know, the Mike truthers are gonna come at my throat. And hey! I love him too. I only want the best for my boy.

This makes season 3 a unique case cause it seems that, for the plot they decided they wanted, writers actually had to almost entirely change his character. I mean mate s2 Mike and s3 Mike are two different peoples, don't even. And I don't believe that the Duffers had their story and character turnouts completely drawn out from the very start at all. If I was to guess, I'd assume they have vague ideas of little plots they plan to include in future, but there is definitely a lot that has come unpredicted or changed throughout st's runtime. And one of those phenomenons are Michael Wheeler. So they decided to make this guy a di-

So they decided to make him more douchy, more movie typical teenage guy. It's not as if he wholly sucked, he didn't, but he didn't really do much. Whined about his girlfriend, separated the party. I mean what even was his arc? (UnLESS–)

You see, if milkvan is written to be loved, then season 3 was strike one. All of its charm was stripped away. It seems they had some cute scenes after their reconciliation, but it's not enough. It's just sort of

"oh, ok, so they're happy with eachother now. yayy."

and Stranger Things should want to be anything but boring. Sure they often enjoy indulging in tropes, but they always do something different with them. Something standoutish. And from this point on milkvan just got dull. Either writers ran out of ideas or lost interest, honestly (still with our mind game of telling ourselves they're meant to be).

But it's okay. Look, so season 3 was a bit rocky, maybe lost a couple of fans for the guys, but it is salvageable. Easily, easily. Looks like we want a plot of Mike struggling to tell El he loves her. Great! Much to work with.

So let's get into it. Season 4! Choices were... made. And, okay, now we can't go any further without bringing in our boy Will.

Mike is intrinsically tied to Will and El and has been from the start. Maybe Will was more of an accident. Maybe s1 Will was just a plot device for Mike, then s2 Will was a plot device again and Mike needed to be there as the main boy character. Come season 3 and it seems their relationship still matters. Will was sidelined - hard - so most of Mike's moments revolved around El. But as his bond with Mike is the only that's been properly built up, that's the only friend we'll get him interacting with in a way that matters. So the Mike and Will tie continues!

But that does not have to be the case for season 4. Now the writers have a chance.

They made Will gay.

Ok so.. ok so yeah that's fine. Yeah! I mean they didn't have to do that, might put them in hot water with the bylers since milkvan is their golden beauty but.. you know what no no that's okay. He's been hinted at being queer since episode 1, why not make it canon! Cool that works. Explore that, especially since we now have Vecna who can easily target Will for this. Give him a boyfriend! Or a guy crush. He's at a new school now? That's cool. Maybe we can explore some new male character Will's taken interest in. Hey maybe he meets someone who interests him which rises to surface his whole sexuality plot and-

he's in love with Mike.

Ok. No. No. What are you doing? What do you mean?? You didn't have to do that. Strike- strike EFING TWO mates! Strike. 👏 efing. 👏 2!

This was part 1. I am tired and gots to get my ars in bed. But ohohoh, do not worry. I am just getting started.

[crappymixtape]

gold & glitter

REQUEST → @superblysubpar, A VERY MERRY MIXTAPE ❝ i’m thinking a little rich!steve harrington, a little spicy somethin, somethin and a holiday play – spicy is right, steve takes you to see the nutcracker, but you don’t even make it to the first act • 18+  | ( 3.1k – smut with a dash of fluff, rich!steve x reader )

G O L D & G L I T T E R 🎶 the nutcracker suite, tchaikovsky

“Good evening, Mister Harrington. Miss. May I take your jackets?”

“Thank you, Charles. Did you order the MacCallan Anniversary malt?”

“Of course, sir. It is available neat here from your decanter or we can dress up however you like. Miss, your jacket?”

Squeezing your eyes shut, you opened them again expecting the finery before you to disappear into thin air like a dream, but it didn’t.

“Oh ye-yeah. I mean-yes. Yes, thank you,” you stumbled over your words as the waitstaff took your coat and disappeared behind the curtain. God, you were working overtime to maintain the same level of calm and collected sophistication that seemed to come so easily to your date.

Steve Harrington. Son of John Harrington and heir to the Harrington fortune. One with a foundation built by generations of brokers and wealth managers. Carried on throughout the years to be passed down to the eldest or, in Steve’s case, the only son.

You’d been together for over a year now, but you still weren’t used to it. This lifestyle.

Going anywhere with him meant multiple planned routes in and out of your destinations. Private cars with dark tinted, bullet-proof windows. Black American Express cards, Gucci loafers, and champagne flown direct from the Garonne Valley in Bordeaux, France.

And of course, at Christmastime, a viewing of George Balanchine's The Nutcracker from a private balcony, performed by only the finest troupe at the New York City Ballet.

You’d been to the theatre, the opera, but never like this. A suite all to yourselves, up and away from prying eyes, and upon each seat rested a pair of exquisitely golden opera binoculars for your viewing pleasure. It felt otherworldly. Lush and dark, gilded and polished. Long, red, crushed velvet curtains draped heavy to the floor and on a small table thick, crystalline tumblers sat next to a matching decanter full of only the finest single malt whiskey.

Lifting a hand, you ghosted an immaculately manicured finger around the rim of one of the glasses.

“Is it up to your standards, honey?”

The low, warmth of Steve’s voice broke your trance and pulled your gaze quick to look up at him.

“What?” you wondered aloud, still surprised at how he could ask such questions, “My standards? God. It’s beautiful.”

“Good. M’glad you like it.”

A smile tugged up at the corner of his mouth as he watched you walk to lean out over the balcony and look down at the sea of seats below. You were wearing the emerald green dress he’d bought you especially for the occasion. Made of the finest silk and fitted tight against every curve and dip of your body. Your hair swept long over one shoulder, soft skin exposed through the keyhole cut into the back. You were exquisite.

And you were all his.

Tucking a hand into the pocket of his slacks he reluctantly looked away from you and took up the decanter to pour a measure of whiskey for himself. MacCallan, single malt, from 1928 and around three-hundred thousand dollars a bottle. Lifting the tumbler he inhaled deeply and let his eyes drift shut. Worth every single penny.

“Charles,” his voice notched up in volume and the man from earlier appeared through the thick, velvet curtains.

“Sir?”

“A bottle of Dom and a chilled glass,” Steve took a drink from his whiskey and let it sit on a his tongue for a moment before swallowing it down. “Oh, and my cigar case.”

“Sir, you know smoking isn’t permitted–”

Steve hummed, a low thrum in his throat, and stepped forward toward the other man.

“How much do I pay for these seats, Charles? How much does my family pay for these seats? Since the theatre opened in 1964…I’ll let you do the math,” he took another sip of whiskey and lifted a hand to smooth down the other man’s cravat, “My cigar case.”

“Yes. Of course, Mister Harrington,” the man replied quietly, eyes glued to the cheap, shiny black plastic of his dress shoes.

Steve put on a smile, the one he gave to clients when he knew he’d closed an account, and gripped the man’s shoulder, “Good man.”

And without another word Charles was off again through the curtain.

There was no denying it, Steve’s presence always held weight. Held power. No one could tell him no. Stood in boardrooms dressed to the nines. Gold heirloom cufflinks, custom tailored jackets and Tucci de Lusso oxfords included, but this version of him was different. Somehow more and you didn’t know how it was possible.

Brunette locks perfectly coiffed. Custom black Armani suit fitted tight across his chest and shoulders. Gold signet ring with his initials engraved upon it shining up from his index finger, and damn if his ass didn’t look incredible in those slacks.

You clicked your tongue at him and fixed him with a look, closing the gap between the two of you.

“Babe, he’s just trying to enforce the house rules,” smoothing a hand up his chest, you pretended to adjust his tie as an excuse to touch him.

“Honey, you and I both know who makes the rules around here,” he drawled, his tone making you weak in the knees, and he set his glass down in favor of taking hold of your waist. His hand wide and warm on the small of your back as he ran it down the curve of your ass and squeezed, pulling a gasp from your lips.

“Steve,” you chided, no heat behind it, and he dipped down to press a kiss to your neck.

“This really is your color,” he whispered in your ear and your eyes fluttered at the sound. Pressed your thighs together as he traced a finger across your exposed collarbone. Warmth blooming in your core as he followed the hem that chased along the edge of your shoulder.

“You’ve got good taste,” you whispered back, swallowing the moan that had crept up your throat and he grinned.

“I do, don’t I.”

“Sir, your cigar cas–oh!”

Charles came back through the curtain to find the two of you pressed into each other, Steve’s nose buried in the crook of your neck. Your cheeks burned at being caught.

“My sincerest apologies, sir! I should’ve–”

“S’alright,” Steve chuckled, pulling away from you to casually take the case from the other man without missing a beat. He reached into his money clip and slipped a hundred dollar bill into Charles’ hand, “Now. That will be all. If I need anything, I’ll ring you.” The finality of his words hung in the air.

“Yes, sir. Of course, sir. Excuse me,” and with that Charles disappeared again for what you were certain, after all that, would be the last time.

“Shit,” you breathed, cheeks still bright red as you bit back a laugh.

Steve was laughing too, but no where near embarrassed, and he grabbed your hand to pull you close to his chest again as the theatre lights flickered and slowly dimmed.

“Mmm, damn. Showtime,” he murmured softly into your hair.

You felt your stomach drop at the thought of having to sit so still, and so far from Steve for three hours, but then another thought came to you. One that made your cheeks flush again and you pressed your face into his lapel, breathing in the citrusy, cedar scent of his cologne.

Pulling away just enough to meet his gaze the expression you maintained was innocent, but the look in your eye wasn’t. It was dark and needy. Warm and flickering at the feeling of his hands on your waist.

“We could freshen up first,” you suggested quietly and as Steve put your words together his pupils blew wide. Pools of black edged in gold and he squeezed at the plush of your hip.

“Uh-huh,” came out strangled and it was all he could manage. Unable to focus on anything other than rucking that silk dress up around your thighs, and without hesitation he grabbed your hand and pulled you through the thick, velvet curtains.

The corridor was empty, Charles hiding wherever he’d rushed off to, and everyone else was in their seats to catch the opening act as Steve led you the short distance down the hall.

Luckily for you, the neighboring balcony’s ticket holders had filed for bankruptcy earlier in the year and now the restrooms on this wing were exclusively Steve’s. Doors crafted from thick oak and etched with breathtaking carvings of Swan Lake and Slyphide, they were heavy enough to drown out anything happening on the other side.

Thank god.

Ignoring the men’s and women’s signs, Steve chose the closest door and shouldered into it, bicep straining against the tight fabric of his shirt as he held muscled it open. It was a hurried mess, both of you tripping into the room on the train of your dress in a fit of giggles as Steve huffed a laugh and cursed under his breath.

“Baby.”

Heels clicking on the white granite tile floor, you regained your footing and finally took in all the exquisite details of the ornate room. Wide marble slabs. Bottles of lotion and perfume that cost more than your mortage. Gold fixtures shining in the low light falling from crystal chandeliers that refracted bright shards of color against the walls.

You would have appreciated the incredible beauty of it all, but Steve. You couldn’t have cared less and neither could he.

He spun you around to face him and hooked his arms behind the backs of your legs. Scooped you up off the ground and pulled a squeal from you as you held on tight around his neck to steady yourself.

Squeezing his hold on you, he freed an arm and swept it across the counter. Knocked the soap dish clattering into the sink basin and paid absolutely no attention to the lush basket of designer hand towels that fell to the floor as he lifted you with ease onto the marble surface.

“Steve,” you protested weakly and when he notched himself between your legs you felt yourself melt under him.

His hands were everywhere. Your waist, the small of your back, fingers pressing into your cheek and pushing your hair over your shoulder to drag messy, open-mouthed kisses against the skin there. It pulled a moan from your lips and at the sound he groaned into you.

“Christ, babe. I’ve wanted to get my hands on you since you climbed into the limo. Pretty as a fuckin’ picture in this thing. So damn hot. All for me, huh?”

“S’always for you,” you half-laughed, but it caught in your throat as he slipped a hand between your thighs, “God, Steve.”

“This for me too, honey?”

He gathered a handful of emerald green silk in one hand and pooled it at your waist as the cool air of the room sent a shiver up your spine. Then he caught sight of the black lace panties hugging tight against you and sucked in a breath. Bit down on his bottom lip and looked like he might cry.

“You’re gonna kill me with these. Are you kiddin’ me? Baby. Look at this,” he babbled, just standing there not touching you and you grabbed hold of his wrist and tugged him back into you.

“Talk too much,” you murmured against his ear, running a hand through the hair at the nape of his neck and dragging your nails against his skin, “It’s all yours…Mister Harrington.”

And fuck if the dress and panties weren’t enough, the sound of your voice wrapped around his name did him in.

“Damn right it is.”

He growled as you tugged on his hair, slipped his hand back between your legs and tugged the thin fabric of your panties aside. The way he had been kissing and talking at you out on the balcony had been plenty to send you pressing your thighs together, but the way he was handling you in here had you soaked.

His fingers slipped in your slick as he felt just how wet you were and he smirked against your skin as he dragged his lips up to your jawline. Tutting softly he slowly circled your clit, his other hand moving to wrap gently around the column of your throat.

“Bet you want me to talk now, huh honey? You want that? Talk dirty to you?” his voice was barely above a whisper as his fingers slid down to press against your entrance.

You swallowed against the hand he had on your throat, your lips dropping open into a perfect little ‘o’ as you squirmed against the counter, impatient for him.

“Uh-huh,” you breathed and he smirked at how he had you wrapped around his finger, literally as he slid one into you.

“That’s my girl. I know what you like, don’t I? Give you everything you need. Take care of you, hm?” he babbled, kissing and sucking at the hollow behind your ear as he began to slide his finger in and out, in and out. A slow drag at first before adding a second finger and pulling a moan from your lips.

“Good care of me,” fell out mindlessly as he gently tightened the hand on your throat making your heartbeat thud in your ears.

“This isn’t enough though, is it? Not enough. Want me to fill you up, don’t you honey?” he whispered and you nodded, your throat too tight to speak, and god you wanted him to make you see stars.

He pulled his hand from between your legs to undo the button on his pants and tears pricked at the corners of your eyes at the loss of his touch.

“Shh, I got you, baby,” he coaxed, pulling down his zipper and reaching in to free his rock hard cock.

It sprang out of his pants without any encouragement and he wrapped a hand around it. Rubbed it against your slit as it practically cried in anticipation and as he slowly pushed himself into you it made you sucked in a rasp of a breath.

“Steve,” you begged and he moved his hand to grip your thigh.

“I know, baby.”

An inch more and he was into you up to the hilt. Filling you so much that you could feel the tip pressing against the spot only he could reach. Easing out he groaned as you clenched down on him before pushing back in and he set the pace there. A slow drag. In, out. In, out.

The wet sounds coming from you as he fucked you slowly were obscene. Made louder by the empty room, but you didn’t care. You wanted more.

“Harder,” you pleaded. He wanted it too and as he looked down at the sight of his cock sliding into your cunt he nearly lost it.

Letting go of your throat he grabbed onto your other thigh for purchase and pulled you to the very edge of the counter. Picked up the pace and started fucking you faster, the slap, slap, slap of his thighs against yours filling the air.

“Fuck, sweetheart. Feel so good. You like that? Huh? Want more?”

“More–shit. Yes, god. More, Steve.”

Your knuckles were white with how hard you were gripping the counter, moans falling freely from your lips now as Steve pushed you both closer and closer to climax. You could feel the coil tightening in your stomach as he squeezed into the plush of your thighs and your hand flew up to grab at the back of his neck.

“Gonna–ugh–come, baby. Come with me, baby,” he said through gritted teeth, jaw ticking when he clenched down, and as he rocked his hips back into you, you both came.

Your orgasm wrapped around you tight. White hot. Electric. Every inch of you buzzing and sparking like fireworks on the fourth of July and you cried out as his thrusts fell out of sync, jerky and messy as he came down.

A soft thud echoed against the tile as your head fell back against the mirror behind you, beads of sweat holding your hair messy across your forehead. Steve leaned into you, rested his head on your chest, and slowly your breaths evened out.

Your lips twitched with a smile, your hand lifting to cover your mouth as you held back a laugh, and Steve seemed to have the same thought as he chuckled against your dress.

“Someone heard us. For sure,” you finally said, voice crackly from breathing so hard.

“And? Who gives a shit. Maybe we just gave them a good idea,” Steve grinned, looking up at you from where he rested his chin on your belly.

You swatted at him, gasping as he pulled out of you to avoid getting hit.

Bending down, Steve grabbed a couple of the hand towels from where they’d landed on the tile and ran warm water on them. Quickly cleaned himself up and then took his time with you. Paid close attention to where he’d held onto your throat. Where his fingertips pressed into your thighs. Dabbed softly across your forehead and spent extra time on the mess between your legs.

You touched up your makeup and perfume, adjusted Steve's tie and hair, and when you both finally emerged from the bathroom the piece the orchestra was playing reached a crescendo and the theatre filled with applause.

It couldn’t be the end of the first act?

Steve walked you easy back to the balcony and held the heavy velvet curtain open for you. Your gilded opera binoculars were still sitting perfectly upon your seat where you’d left them and the bottle of chilled Dom Perignon was on ice along with a champagne flute – you hated whiskey.

You both sank into your seats as the orchestra began to play again and you recognized the piece and shot Steve a look.

“The party scene just started,” you whispered, “We’re not even out of the first part of act one.”

“Christ,” he groaned, grinning into his hands as he rubbed them across his face. Then, glancing over at you he grabbed his cigar box, “We can always make up for it next year. Right?”

Your eyes grew wide.

“Skip the Nutcracker?” you asked incredulously and he quirked a brow at you.

“Yeah. Skip it and we’ll go catch part two of the bathroom scene at mine,” he said giving you a wicked grin and you feigned shock, your own grin threatening to shatter your facade.

“Mister Harrington, what would your mother say?”

And the look he gave you then was the absolute definition of smug.

“My Stevie boy always gets what he wants.”

And damn if she wasn’t right about that.

[belit0]

imagine leaving lipstick marks on their necks/collar without them knowing 🤭

Okay, after writing and translating this whole work, I realized you asked for "lipstick marks" 🫠🫠🫠

I wrote the whole thing using the concept of hickeys, and I hope you don't mind 😭😭 If I have to re-write it (which I'll do if you ask me to) I'd need to change lots of things, and I felt kinda bad about doing that before showing it to you cause I really liked it!

I just hope this is okay :,(((

TW: none Pairing: Otsutsuki Indra / reader - Uchiha Madara / reader - Uchiha Izuna / reader. NSFW

Indra

DEATH! Too traditional to allow (Y/N) to take the reins. If anyone makes hickeys or marks, it's him.

We're talking about the greatest figure of power and respect in the entire Uchiha clan, the damn creator, of course he has to present a neat and respected image to the outside world, to appear untainted and beyond compare. People must respect and fear him, feel they are dealing with a superior and untouchable being.

Of course, having a hickey on his neck destroys that fantasy, giving him more of a human aspect, a person who genuinely enjoys the mundane pleasures of life, such as sex.

"What do you mean Otsutsuki Indra has sex?!?!?!?!?!?!" Yes, and lots of it. People would be shocked to death knowing the sexual beast sleeping inside this man during the day.

It will be one of his disciples who notices it first, as he receives an instructional beating on how to handle Taijutsu. Completely shocked, he will not dare say anything, choosing to think it must be a bruise, some lucky person who managed to touch him during training.

Eventually, the council elders notice, and someone must raise their voice.

"Indra-Sama.... There's something... there's something on your neck, if I may be so bold as to mention..."

Thoughts race at the speed of light in his mind, remembering the night before and how he got careless enough for (Y/N) to have access to his collar. She'd been bragging about reaching for his smooth skin and marking it, but he never thought she'd succeed.

He made the mistake of being careless yesterday, as she massaged his cock in the bathtub while taking a hot dip. Allowing her complete freedom to handle his cock as she wished, throwing back his head and exposing his neck, (Y/N) opted to carry out her move at the very moment he was finishing, so distracted by the sensation he didn't feel her lips sucking on his neck.

It was his fault for relaxing in her presence, finding a person he shouldn't have to pretend to be able to keep up with.

"Indra-Sama? Are you well?"

The older man's voice brings him back to reality, snapping him out of the stupor of remembering the situation. Now he sits with an erect cock and flushed cheeks, trying to pretend everything is all right.

"Everything is fine, there's no need to worry. We'll finish this meeting earlier than usual, there are pressing matters I need to take care of."

"Do you need medical attention? We could check you and see if that mark is anything serious or..."

"I said everything is fine, didn't I? You'll mind your own affairs, attend to your own duties, and forget about it."

He twirled his Sharingan along with his words, just for effect and depth, inwardly planning how he would repay (Y/N) for having taken such a dare.

Madara

Internally, he enjoys hickeys. He loves to know (Y/N) is as possessive of him as he is of her, where the feeling is mutual and fiery, never dull or monotonous.

However, like his ancestor, he has an image to maintain, and cannot afford to show marks just like that. The high collars on his robe help enough, at least to diffract the more outrageous ones.

Madara is aware of several people noticing this, but no one dares to comment on it.

His relationship with (Y/N) is more than well known by now, and no one visualizes him as a sexually quiet man. What surprises people is that he allows her to mark him as well. Who would think this Uchiha is so egalitarian, holding his partner on the same level of rights he possesses?

The one to comment on this will probably be Izuna, being the only one brave enough to ask such a personal question to his older brother. Of course, everyone knows his Aniki would never hurt him. At most, he'll get angry and drag him to the training ground to give him a good beating, but that's about it.

As they enjoy a nice cup of tea with Hikaku, Izuna takes the liberty of remarking.

"That's quite a noticeable thing you're wearing around your neck, Madara. Rough night?" Hikaku interjects, hiding the smirk in his cup of tea.

"Hm, one could call it that, yes." There's a faint hint of amusement at the corner of his lips, but he remains neutral, inwardly grateful the collar of his dressing gown is covering all the other marks.

"Who knew (Y/N) was so wild? Aniki, it looks like a massive insect bite… I now understand why you asked me to take care of your meetings today."

"Stop whining, Izuna. It doesn't hurt you to interact with the council and let them see you're a responsible adult."

"That, precisely, he is not." The third Uchiha sighs inwardly, bearing weeks of taking care of Izuna's respective duties.

"That, precisely, I am not. Besides, responsible adult?! Says the one who walks around with a hickey the size of my fist around his neck."

"It's not wrong to find fun, semi-permanent ways to show love for your partner." Madara smirks into his hot drink.

"Yeah, sure. Wait here, I'll throw up and be right back. What the fuck happened to my big brother, someone explain!"

Izuna

The womanizer no one would ever expect to see attached enough to wear a mark of possession on his neck. Izuna has been with countless women, but he has never allowed any of them to leave even a hint of contact on his skin.

What is it now, walking around the compound with a mark on his collar? It has a name and a surname, (Y/N), for her friends.

A few paragraphs ago, the Uchiha was mocking his older brother for becoming a love softie, and now look at him, melting to the point where he allows her to leave her declarations of affection written on his flesh.

He's totally proud of the hickey, even forgoing his usual long-collared dressing gown in favor of one that shows off his chest, evidencing the previous night's amorous experience with (Y/N).

Of course, the first to laugh at him will be Madara, returning the words of derision he had previously exclaimed. Hikaku will soon follow suit, being a bit more severe in the matter of teasing him. Izuna will smile and laugh at every attempt they make to annoy him, being genuinely glad to have those particular colors on his skin.

The one who really surprises Izuna with his comment is Kagami, one of his little students. The boy is just learning his first fire jutsu, but nothing stops him from making an innocent comment about the different colored marks on his sensei's neck.

"Izuna Sensei! Are you all right?! What is that?! Did the enemy do that to you?!" The boy exclaims with concern, his eyes wide open and on the verge of tears.

Izuna, being an idiot with poor ideas, decides to play a little joke on him.

"Yes, Kagami… Yes. Today, your Sensei is coming to say goodbye. It was the Senjus, Kagami, they marked me with a deadly poison on my neck, I have little time left but..."

"NO! IZUNA SENSEI! NO!"

"It's okay Kagami, it will be quick and painless, Hikaku will continue training you and everything will be fine..."

At that moment, he decides to pretend he's starting to suffocate, grabbing his neck and acting like air isn't entering his airways. He lies down on the floor to continue his show, closing his eyes and feigning death. He struggles with all his might to keep a smile from escaping his lips, but can't help but laugh when Kagami begins to cry inconsolably.

He throws himself on his Sensei's chest, weeping and resting his head on "the lifeless body". Izuna can't contain his fit of laughter, getting up and grabbing him in a hug, showing him that he wouldn't get rid of him so easily.

When Kagami opens his eyes in disbelief, Izuna realizes, this one just awakened his Sharingan.

"Holy fuck..."

He can already hear the screams his brother will throw his way once he finds out, Kagami being too young to even have a Tomoe.

[exceedinglygayotter]

So I've been reading a lot of Elder Scrolls fanfic recently, and I noticed that it's fairly popular to write crossovers with Dragon Age, specifically to have the author's version of the Last Dragonborn fall into Thedas at the start of Dragon Age: Inquisition and become either the Inquisitor or a companion of theirs.

I've never played Dragon Age (massive CRPGs just aren't my thing), but the idea is a really interesting one. How would Dragon Age characters react to someone who is clearly capable of magic, but has no connection to the Fade because that's just not how magic works on Nirn? How would a Skyrim character react to being thrown into a world that is so superficially similar to their own, yet so fundamentally different, with dragons, elves, and dwarves that bear only the slightest resemblance to what they're used to those words meaning?

Anyway, I had a neat idea for one of these, but since I'm sure I'll never write it I figured I'd post it here. I just think that there's a lot of potential in making the character who gets trapped on Thedas be an ohmes khajiit.

If you don't know, khajiit can be born into one of 16 different "furstocks" depending on the phase of the moons when they are born, ranging all the way from talking house cats (the alfiq) to 10-foot-tall tiger-men (the pahmar-raht), with the ohmes pretty much just looking like elves to the point that many ohmes tattoo more feline features onto their faces in order to make it more obvious that they're khajiit. This means they'd be able to blend in relatively easily since they could just pass themself off as an elf, but would still be a member of a species completely alien to Thedas. Humans are just humans, and even mer could be thought of as basically just weird elves, but there's nothing even similar to the khajiit.

Furthermore, the moons of Nirn are extremely important to every part of khajiiti society from their government to their religion, and this would mean they'd be thrown into a world where those moons just... aren't there. The very sky of Thedas would be alien to them, and a khajiit would be the most affected by that out of all of Nirn's cultures.

On a more metaphysical level, khajiit are innately tied to the Lunar Lattice, which is basically the khajiiti name for the barrier separating Mundus from Oblivion and Aetherius. Azura is worshipped by them as Azurah, a "keeper of all gates and keys, all rims and thresholds," and it's implied that Azurah created the khajiit to help maintain the Lunar Lattice in some way. Seeing as the main plot of DA:I is heavily focused on the Veil between the mortal world and the Fade, you could probably do some very interesting stuff with a character who has an innate connection to a similar metaphysical barrier.

I understand why nobody's done something like this (at least as far as I'm aware), since a lot of people don't even know that the different furstocks exist and ohmes haven't been playable since Arena, but I feel like you could do some really fun stuff with it.

[aghoststorycomic]

A GHOST STORY HAS (NOT) UPDATED!! THE AUTHOR IS DEAD....TIRED.

TODAY’S UPDATE: HERE START THIS CHAPTER: HERE START FROM THE TOP: HERE

first, because of how flighty i've been with updates, i would like to encourage you to use an RSS feed reader and add the "a ghost story" RSS feed to it by clicking "find feeds in page" or "add new feed" and entering www.aghoststorycomic.com/. or dragging and dropping it if you use a different RSS feed reader. rss feeds are how the ancients used to navigate the web and through it they knew when things updated immediately. using an RSS feed has 2 major benefits: 1. you can get updates without having to use any social media or following my social media. 2. you can keep up with the comic when updates get sporadic without having to hopefully remember to check it some day in the future.

second, i do not like to advertise the patreon when i am behind on rewards and have been unable to deliver anything of interest beyond comic pages for a while, but consider throwing a buck a month at me to see pages a month early. that's something.

i realize that webcomics really need reliability to survive, so i'm genuinely so annoyed and so unhappy that i'm in this situation. i toughed it out as long as i could, but this final leg has been the fucking pits. it sucks. effexor is a notorious nightmare of an antidepressant to get off of and boy were they not kidding. i'm down to a quarter pill doses, but my body is rampaging because i'm not dosing it with the norepinephrine treat its become accustomed to. its never so much that i'm like, in acute physical or mental distress, its just bad enough that it makes working consistently hard. i had a buffer up until this last month when it was completely used up because i was too busy thinking about how bad my entire face hurt. or how my eyes felt like they were vibrating out of my skull.

i started effexor two years ago and was on a pretty high dose. i got the most bizarre and unpleasant side effects on this drug and the reason i didn't do anything about it was because the drug's primary effect was to instill me with a sense of overwhelming apathy. this is a great effect (intentional? i'm not sure) to have when the symptom you were trying to treat was "unbearable anxiety". not joking, it worked incredibly well for at least getting me mentally back to a baseline level of sane. after that, though, with nothing irrational to be apathetic about, my brain decided that household chores, basic hygiene, and my job were pointless and stupid or unpleasant. food tasted bad. not bland, bad. showers felt annoying instead of relaxing. i would look at the dishes piling up in the sink, the barest minimum i should be doing around the house on a daily basis to maintain a comfortable living space and would think "well that is just impossible".

but i was also putting up with a lot of stupid shit from my body. it made my right hand fingers and lower back feel distractingly stiff. my lip was split for a year straight and would re-open every time i opened my mouth. my nose and gums had open sores. i got a rash on my face that lead me down a rabbit hole for months trying to figure out if i do or don't have lupus (i dont)(neat). i would get insomnia so bad i would be up for 36 hours regularly, but i was too tired to get anything done. and with the withdrawals i would get all of those and as an added bonus i got to enjoy body aches that felt like bruises all over my body. they hurt so bad that laying on the couch was uncomfortable as a consequence of newton's third law. and i'd have weird meltdowns about the cats hating me (?). i am only boring you with all of this whining to try to explain the amount of distractions i was fending off while still trying to be a productive member of a household, experiencing common adulthood problems galore (basement....), and trying to create comics for you and for me. i am telling you this because it sucked, and sucks, so bad.

on top of everything else, the impact the effexor has had on my creativity has been eye-opening. i realized there was a correlation between my dosages increasing and my ability to draw nosediving. the "impossible" feeling of the dishes carried over to my comic work which got lazier and worse and i knew it and it was frustrating. there is a special kind of shame and guilt you develop when you charge someone for something you know is not your best work, just the best you could do in the moment. or when you are just sitting in front of your computer staring at it blankly and thinking about how much you'd like to draw if only it wasn't the hardest thing in the world. you feel like a lazy sack of shit, knowing that there is nothing physically preventing you from working. your brain simply cannot make

i started the weaning process in i think november so am pretty much on track for this to actually be over soon. there's light at the end of the tunnel. its happening. and there are bright moments in between doses where i can actually do things. like right now! i drew this very easily instead of being in hell for hours. but these precious moments are short lived until the withdrawal symptoms start up and i have to take another pill that nerfs me.

anyway APRIL 6th! dont forget me or ill cry.

[doubledyke]

I think that in "domestic stuff" Edd will torture Eddy. Eddy isn't a slob, but he's a lot more relaxed about it, while Edd obsessed with cleanliness and organization. I think Double D would criticize Edd for everything, including the fact that Eddy likes to buy all sorts of aesthetic “trash.” And if they work together, then Double D will probably nag often too. In short, Eddy will have a hard time if he lives with Double D :D

edd? an uptight nag? say it ain't so...

i agree that they'd BOTH have some things to work on preferably before, but definitely after they move in together. by the time they're at that point in their relationship eddy would have a pretty clear idea of what to expect living with eddward. he's seen the guy's room. and he knows how he gets when he's stressed: the nagging, the nervous chatter, the theatrics. he'd be lying if he said he didn't find it a little endearing. i don't think eddy is a total slob either but yeah he's got his habits. he'll gain a new appreciation for his mother, realizing just how much stuff she did for him that he never noticed. and he's gonna realize quickly that it's a lot easier to just not procrastinate on chores if he doesn't want to listen to edd's yapper. i don't think it'd take him long to pick up better habits. like in my fair ed, but this time it's for real.

shoes + shoe rack = happy edd

dish + sink = happy edd

clothes + hamper = happy edd

simple math.

he's not just doing it for edd though, he wants a neat space too. he's just more the type to clean when it gets gross rather than maintaining on a daily basis. edd's quick to remind him of the microscopic nature of germs.

the aggravation does go both ways. edd's not the way he is for funsies. clutter and filth make his skin crawl and he legitimately cannot relax in an unkempt space. i like to imagine edd getting hit with a reality check when he moves out to go to college and has to share a space with someone who's actually there regularly. he'd be shocked to learn how little importance most people place on tidiness. especially his level of tidiness.

anyway, he fears that his home with eddy could easily start looking like eddy's parents' - 'packrats' whose empty nest is slowly starting to fill back up - unless he keeps a strict inventory binder and cleaning schedule for all household items and areas, separated by category, and color coded with the use of-

as far as the decor, again, he saw eddy's room as a kid, he knows what to expect. i'm sure there would be items that edd would veto outright, like those tawdry leg lamps, or any non-insect taxidermy. and the dusting of so many kitschy antiques in a room containing more than its fair share of velvet upholstery would be a nightmare. buuuut he agreed to let eddy do the decorating, so i think he'd try his very hardest to keep any snide remarks to a maximum of 2 per day... it's one of many things that edd has to learn to cope with. eddy's made a million concessions for him too, after all.

[crowparties]

xyx scratches such an itch in my brain, he’s such a fantastic character. i think, the fact that team’s initial xyx write up being straight up platonic really just adds to the charm of it for me. 

i just really appreciate that his route is about asserting personal boundaries, and how he, while still maintaining good friendships online has this distinct divide between his online life and offline one. he’s warm and easy going, but still so wary. i  just, i like  that he’s a lot more withdrawn than he lets on. he’s been burned before, he’s jokey and fun and light  hearted and absolutely fumbles when met with patience and genuine kindness. 

i don’t know, i just i really like how he feels like a friend. it’s different when he joke flirts and  when he actually  flirts. it doesn’t feel scary, or anything. it’s just. it’s so nice. he’s so nice. and like he’s pretty, and he has freckles, and im stupid bc i love career oriented ppl who are hard workers who still know how to have fun. i like ppl who make me want to work hard to meet their level. he’s a risk taker, which at worst could be bella swan ala new moon just trying to feel, but also just. he’s out there touching rocks and jumping into the ocean, we love that bro. 

and i just. the entire bit of cat?? cat helpign enforce self care for xyx?? *chef’s kiss* perfection. idk, he’s so functionally unfunctional, and idk having a pet rlly helps.. his worry and concern over cat. 

the way xyx never feels like he can truly be himself and let loose?? he has to choose his words carefully for work, he chooses his words carefully around friends because he doesn’t want to be a serious guy. he’s always swapping between  those, so finding  people (toaster, salo, even you the player) he can actually fully relax around  is really good??  

i feel like i have more but im gonna shut up i need to finish my accounting stuff  whatever!! bloomic is  fun!! it’s cool!! it’s such a neat exploration in what modern dating and meetcutes really are these days, and the fact that the cast is in  their mid to late twenties makes it all the more better. reminded  me a lot of my own experiences, but like better?? LMFAO.  it was a very kind game to play, it’s been really comfy to  replay

[snugglesquiggle]

right, pinned posts

the main thing i've been working on lately is Hostile Takeover, a long murder drones fanfic about a lesbian robot torn between her directives and her own needs

i have a website which is probably the best place to see all of my stuff:

but to get a taste of what you can find on that site, keep reading

most people are probably following me for my murder drones stuff.

i of course write the critically acclaimed J/Uzi fic, Hostile Takeover

it's a beyond novel length enemies to lovers slowburn, and distinguishes itself by pulling it all off without heavy alteration to canon characterization.

most people are probably put off by the ship, but i've received numerous comments to the effect of "i never liked this ship" or "i didn't think it could be done" followed by "but you somehow pulled it off".

give it a shot!

besides that, i've read a lot of murder drones fanfic, and maintain a page on my website dedicated to indexing and reviewing fics that i'd recommend

several of the people following me are writers, who may be interested in know that i've written several essays on the craft of writing. people tend to find them pretty insightful!

i've written many stories other than Hostile Takeover. you can find them on my site; there's too many to list, but in general, i write nonhuman character near-exclusively. (after all, my friends were only so surprised when i became obsessed with murder drones)

still, HT is my best work, and i'm not certain fans of that will enjoy my earlier writing, and i have reservations about recommending most of them. A Chimerical Hope is still cool, i think.

the majority of my site is dedicated Black Nerve, a dark fantasy setting of my creation about giant sapient insect ninjas and corrupting fungus and gruesome mutagenic blood magic. there's so much going on there that i just cant get into all of it here. not even sure where you should begin reading

lore posts like "In Dialogue With Plagues", or "Lardsuckers and (What Were) Grubsuckers" give you a taste of just how freaky the setting is, and i think "The Duality of Mantis" is a great look at the weird psychology of the dominant species. but there's so many loreposts i can't list them all

writing is probably what i've done the most of, but i have other skills :3

i've released three albums of electronic music on bandcamp:

although i think my best music is the stuff i made for looptober 2023, which though not "officially" released (i'm debating whether i should spend time polishing them), you can still listen to it on itch.io or my site!

and there's more!

i'm sometimes an artist, and there's gallery on my site with over three hundred pieces i've drawn over the years. i mostly draw these weird alien dudes i invented, plus a bunch of praying mantises and dragons and pokemon. quality varies a lot and i'm bad about staying in practice, but here are some pieces i think turned out rather well

ok, now is that it?

well, mostly. i have some poetry that's neat, and recently a game demon that's now shaping up into something interesting:

but now, that's probably everything of serious note.

if you read through all of that, i love you. thank you for your time and i hope there's something here you appreciated

[sporco-filth]

The second part of the story about Lee going from neat freak to slob.

Synopsis: A dramatic change in Lee's life gives him the freedom to be a slob and so Bob proceeds to be his guide to this new world

In the following month, Lee's office was a flurry of activity and the constant stress of work meant he was often too busy to do his usual errands and chores to the same level of astute perfection he had usually maintained. One night, after a long, tiring day at work, he returned home famished. He opened the fridge, the pantry, the cupboards, but all he could find was an apple, a few slices of wholemeal bread and a carrot: hardly anything to make a meal out of. He'd been so caught up at work he'd forgotten to buy more groceries. Looking at the clock, which by now read 10:12PM, he knew he couldn't muster the energy to go shopping and cook now. Either he ate his meagre scraps or…

Just because the house was devoid of his healthy fare didn't mean there wasn't any food around. Bob had his stocks of junk food and he always said Lee was welcome to have any of it if he wanted, not that Lee ever took Bob up on his offer. Lee looked around and stumbled on a frozen pizza. Normally he'd never look twice at something like that, but he was starving and his stomach gurgled in hunger. He heated it up and before long he was tucking into the cheesy, greasy, meaty mess. It was delicious, so much so that he found himself devouring the whole thing. He sat back in his chair, stifling a burp and pardoning himself, he patted his belly. It was ever so slightly distended. He imagined what it might be like if it was so much larger, a real gut, but he knew that although he enjoyed his fantasies, they were just fantasies.

Just then, Bob walked in. He had been out with his mates that evening and stumbled upon Lee rubbing his abdomen in front of an empty plate. "I can see you had a nice meal," he said with a smile and Lee quickly pulled his hand away from his stomach and started to tidy up. "I was just really busy in the office," Lee explained, flustered. "I didn't have time to buy any more groceries; I hope you don't mind if I helped myself to some of your things." "That's all right," Bob replied, not at all fussed. "I'm just glad to see you loosening up a bit. I hoped I'd have a positive influence on you." Lee smiled embarrassedly, face reddening slightly. "It's just this one time, I'll go buy more of my usual food tomorrow." "If you say so." Bob gave him a knowing look, as if he was sure this wouldn't be the last time, but didn't say any more and headed off to his room. Lee washed his plate and put it away. He wondered, what if he did let loose a bit? What would the harm be in that? But the rational part of his mind steered him away from that sort of thought and he prepared himself for bed as meticulously as ever, Bob's comments merely adding to his resolve to maintain his lifestyle in this den of excess and slothfulness.

In the days that followed, Lee returned to his fit, clean and healthy lifestyle with renewed ardour, cleaning and exercising almost twice as much as he usually did. He even went back to making his bed. But things at work were getting more and more stressful and he soon found himself worn out from all the internal and external pressures. "Mr Ngyuen, I'm sure you know that sleeping on the job is not acceptable!" "Wah?!" Lee was jolted awake from his exhaustion-induced daydreaming and saw his boss standing imperiously over him. "I-I'm sorry, sir," he said in a hasty apology. "I didn't mean to I just–" "You were just sleeping," his boss finished, shaking his head. "Listen, Mr Ngyuen, you know how tough business has been in the last few months, right?" Lee nodded slowly, concerned about where this might be heading. "I've heard talk," he said in a nervous voice, "of there being some cuts…" His boss nodded solemnly. "Don't tell the others, though. I don't want any panic. I'm warning you, Mr Ngyuen, because I'm afraid that if you don't manage to lift your game, you might be one of the ones to go." Lee was wide-eyed, he wasn't sure what to say. "B-but I've been working here for years! You can't just fire me! Where would I go? What would I do?" His boss gave him a sympathetic look. "I'm afraid that lately you've become a liability to the company: your past success hasn't translated into future success. There'll be some sort of compensation, of course. We have plans in place for this sort of situation…" Lee stopped paying attention. He couldn't believe this was happening to him.

He went home that night dejected and anxious. He sat down at the kitchen table with his head in his hands, not sure what to do. Just then, Bob entered from his bedroom. He'd never seen Lee, a man who seemed to have everything perfectly in order and under control, in such a state: shirt rumpled, tie loose, hair messed up and bags under his eyes. "What's the matter?" Bob asked, genuinely worried. "You know how I told you there were rumours they were going to lay off some people at work? Well, my boss told me today that I'm… likely…" Lee didn't want to say it aloud. "To be fired?" Lee nodded. "Man, that's tough…" "Yeah," Lee sighed. "They said if I manage to improve my performance they might keep me, but I got the sense the decision was already made." He looked up at Bob. "I'm not sure what to do. There's no one hiring so if I lose this I'll be out of a job for who knows how long. I can't lose my job, I just can't…" Bob watched as he slumped over the table in despair. "Don't worry mate, I'll be happy to help you out as much as you need until you're back on your feet." Lee looked up. "How?" Bob smiled. "I might not look it, but I'm actually pretty well-off." "Really?" "Yeah." "But I never see you work or anything." "And how do you imagine I manage to live like that?" "But where did you get the money? And what's your definition of 'well-off', if you don't mind me asking." "I've accrued it over the years in a variety of ways: property, investments, crazy business schemes, even a bit I managed to score in gambling. I also inherited a fair bit from my relatives. I don't quite keep a close eye on my funds, but it's more than enough for me to enjoy my life as I please." Lee was rather shocked. "You really don't mind helping me out?" "It's nothing, Lee. We're friends now, you and I." Lee was relieved. It was as if all the weight of the world had fallen from his shoulders. "Thank you," he said, smiling at last. "I don't know if I'll ever be able to repay you." "It's nothing," Bob said with a shrug.

Lee tried his hardest at work but nonetheless he received the news he had dreaded. Even if he was prepared for it and had a back-up plan, he couldn't shake the sense of failure that it brought. He entered the apartment and dropped his work stuff in his room. Bob saw him on his way out. "It happened?" Lee was still numb from the shock and could only nod. "Here, sit with me in the lounge and relax, just forget about it." Lee was too rattled to think about his reasons against this and followed Bob to the living room. He sat down in the same armchair as he had during the 'challenge', not even bothering to dust away the detritus that was already on it. The empty wrappers and dropped crumbs crinkled and crunched under his weight. As he began to get into the show on TV, Bob handed him a beer. "Here, it might help take your mind off things." Lee accepted it. He largely abstained from alcohol and had never really gotten drunk before, so wasn't one to drink much, but he felt like now was an occasion that merited a stiff drink. One beer turned into two which was followed by a third and soon Lee found himself forgetting about all the uptight rules that dictated his life. Bob opened a packet of chips which he proffered to Lee and which he accepted. He hadn't eaten in a while and the salty, oily chips looked appetising. He grabbed a handful and munched away; they were delicious. So savoury and crunchy and moreish. Eventually he found his hand touching the bottom of the empty packet and dropped it onto the floor and wiped the grease off on his shirt, not caring about mess in his inebriated state. He took another swig of his beer and let out a sizeable burp. "I'm still kinda hungry," he said. "I'd better get something ready for dinner." "Relax," Bob said. "I'll order us a pizza. If you're worried about your diet stuff, it's only just this once." Lee ceded and went back to watching TV. Relax, he told himself. You can have some fun for once. He glanced down at himself and noticed he was still dressed for work; how could he get relaxed like this? He pulled off his tie and threw it away. Then he unbuttoned his shirt, dusting off the chip crumbs that had accumulated on it, and got rid of it. Finally, he unzipped his pants and kicked them off, leaving himself in only his underwear. He felt so liberated and unrestrained. Bob glanced over. "I see you're getting comfortable." Lee blushed slightly in embarrassment, forgetting he wasn't alone. "It's fine, do you think I mind? I spend most of my time in my underwear, after all." Lee nodded and eventually managed to relax again.

Soon the pizza arrived, the scent of it filling the air and making Lee's stomach growl. Bob had ordered two large pizzas and he tossed one to Lee. He opened it up; it looked like the biggest, unhealthiest, most overindulgent thing he could imagine. "I'm not sure I should, or can, eat all of this," Lee remarked. "Just eat as much as you want," Bob replied. "But from what I can see, you could do with a bit of meat on your bones." Lee looked at his taut stomach with its washboard abs. This was the culmination of years and years of hard work and dedication, but was it really all that worth it? Was it really all he wanted? He looked over to Bob, who was digging into his pizza, and at his belly. It was so round, so soft, so flabby and jiggly. Imagine having a gut like that. It'd be like having a comfy pillow all the time that you can wobble and play with. What are abs good for? Lee looked enviously at Bob's chubby love handles and bum, his soft moobs and thick thighs. He knew he wanted that.

Did he, though? Maybe it was just the beer making his mind foggy. He shook the thoughts from his head and started eating his pizza. He only managed half of it before he was full. Bob offered him another beer and the two watched TV late into the night.

The next morning, Lee woke up in the armchair. He was still only in his undies and surrounded by the remnants of the night before. The TV was still on and Bob was still sleeping away on the couch. He looked at the time on the clock and saw it was after seven. He needed to get to work! Wait… work… Lee remembered the events of yesterday, he was now unemployed. Still, he should get up for his daily run. He tried to get up quickly, but was hit by a wave of pain in his head. He looked down at the coffee table to see a fair amount of beer bottles and wondered how many of them were his. Noticing that there was a similar, albeit larger, pile beside Bob, he concluded they were, likely, all his. This must be what it feels like to get a hangover, he thought. He sighed and caught a whiff of his breath; it stank. He realised he didn't brush his teeth the night before, which meant he hadn't showered either. He took a quick sniff of his armpit and smelt the odour of sweat beginning to develop. I should freshen up, he thought. It'll help me clear my head. But then Lee felt a pang of hunger. He was never the type to do anything before having first eaten breakfast, but he was hardly in the right state of mind to prepare anything. He was out of muesli so would need to make something if he wanted a healthy, filling breakfast. Maybe eggs on toast, but that'd be a lot of messing around with the eggs. Smashed avo? No, they were out of avocado too… Out of the corner if his eye, Lee noticed the leftover pizza from the night before. It was cold, but in his hungover state it still looked pretty appetising, and most importantly it looked filling. Lee grabbed a slice and began munching away. Here I am, he thought. Unemployed, unwashed, hungover, in my undies, surrounded with trash, having woken up on the couch and eating cold pizza from last night for breakfast. Instead of being repulsed by the idea, he felt oddly turned on by it. He had no responsibilities, no one to impress. Perhaps Bob was right, maybe it wouldn't hurt to let himself go a bit. He felt an itch around his groin. Usually he'd be too polite to scratch down there, but in the spirit of his new lifestyle he let himself. It felt good. He grabbed another slice of pizza and picked up the remote, flicking idly through the channels. I think I could get used to this. He kicked his feet up onto the coffee table and got comfy. Really used to this.

A little while later, Bob stirred and woke up from his slumber to see Lee idly watching TV. "Shouldn't you be off on one of your jogs by now?" he asked, glancing at the clock. Lee gave a nervous smile, like a kid excited to dive into the deep end but unsure if it was safe. "I'm thinking I might… maybe, like, let myself go, a little…" Bob wasn't sure he heard that right. "As in, stop exercising and stuff?" Lee nodded. "I think it might be fun…" Bob didn't understand. "But you keep going on about being healthy and fit… I know I said I didn't get it and was hoping you'd come around, but I didn't think it would actually happen." Lee grinned. "Well, I think I've wanted it for a while, I think it's why I decided to move in here, but I couldn't find the courage to actually do it. Losing my job, I'm free now. I can do what I like and just, you know, relax a bit." Bob smiled. "Well then, in that case why don't I take you through the basics of being a slob?" Lee could hardly wait.

"Now," explained Bob, "there are five main food groups–" "Carbohydrates, fruit, dairy, protein and vegetables," Lee proudly recited. "No," said Bob. "At least, not for a slob. They are: fatty, sugary, salty, carbs and meat. Anything else is tasteless fodder and empty vitamins. Now, the rule of thumb is if you want it, eat it. If you really wanted to eat vegetables," he said the word with disgust, "you can, but I don't see why when there's so much other tastier food to eat." Lee nodded. "Next up is hygiene," Bob continued. "Only wash if absolutely necessary. Be proud of your stink. When it comes to cleaning the house, don't. Why bother if it just gets dirty again?" "OK, cool," the thought of being coated in grime and living in a tip titillated Lee. "What else should I know?" "The general rule for everything is if you feel like it, do it, and if you don't, don't. You wanna stay up all night playing video games? Go ahead! Want to eat nothing but doughnuts for a day? Who's stopping you? Can't be bothered exercising? Stay in bed all day." Lee imagined this. A life of utter laziness where he let his desires take control. "This sounds amazing," he breathed in awe. "It's a sweet life," Bob agreed.

That afternoon, while Bob had gone out for a bit, Lee was laid out on the couch in his undies playing video games when his stomach growled. He paused the game and got up to see what was available. Looking through the junk food filled kitchen, he had trouble deciding what to eat; it all looked so tasty. Then he noticed a chocolate cake sitting on the counter. Out of habit, he looked at the clock: five fifteen, too close to dinner for snacking. Then Lee remembered Bob's advice and went with his gut. He plonked himself back down on the couch and began to stuff his face with the rich, sweet cake. He didn't even bother with cutlery, just scooping handful after handful into his mouth. He moaned in delight; it was so delicious. How had he forbidden himself from this for so long? Even when he started to feel full, Lee pressed on, his stomach wanting more and more. Eventually he finished it all. He rubbed his sore stomach which was by now pretty bloated, the chocolate on his fingers smearing over his body. He let out a burp and sighed with contentment. He thought about going back to his game, but the stuffing had made him sleepy so he took a nap instead. He woke up to the sound of the door and was the scent of food which made his stomach start burbling again. Bob had arrived and with him he had brought dinner. "Hey Lee," he called out. "You hungry? I got McDonald's." He went over to the couch to find Lee sleepy-eyed and chocolate-coated. Lee smiled bashfully, looking down at his messy state. "I had a cake a little while ago," he yawned. Bob was a bit befuddled. "The cake on the counter?" "Yeah." "The whole thing?" "Yeah, sorry… I was kinda hungry…" Bob grinned. "Don't apologise, I just didn't think you had it in you. I'm impressed, good job." Lee smiled back. "Thanks." "If you ate so much before, I'm not sure you have room for more." Lee got up quickly. "I can eat," he said, not wanting to miss out. Bob chuckled at his enthusiasm and tossed him his bag of food. Lee looked inside and pulled out his burger. "You know," he said, looking at it. "I don't think I've ever had McDonald's before." "Really?" "Maybe the chips or something, but not a burger." "Well, you've been missing out." Bob took a bite out of his. "They're great," he said, mouth full. "Try it!" Lee took a bite, the greasy meat filling his mouth and sending his taste buds into a frenzy. He ate with vigour and soon he was sitting back, belly full and sipping his soft drink. "I've never really drunk soft drink either," he said, enjoying the sugary rush and the sensation of bubbles on his tongue." "I don't know how you've lived all these years like this…" Bob replied in awe tinged with disbelief. "Neither do I," Lee said. He felt the bubbles rise up from his stomach and opened his mouth wide. A large belch escaped his lips. "Wow, I think that's the biggest burp I've ever done." He was rather chuffed with himself when Bob let loose an even larger one. Lee was impressed, if a bit put to shame. "Belching is an art form," Bob explained. "It takes practice. You need to know how to properly shape the mouth to really amplify it." "Can you teach me?" Bob shook his head. "That's like going to Pavorroti and saying 'teach me to sing like you'. I'm afraid I can't help you, Lee, this is something you need to learn on your own. Master it, perfect it, and one day you might be as good as me." Lee nodded to this sage advice, still sucking on his straw. "I'll do my best."

[kaibutsushidousha]

Do you think Japanese names should be localized as is (Family Name first) or should the order be in keeping with western order (Family Name last)? Does context matter?

The answer to "Does context matter?" will always be yes. That said, while I have many examples where Western name order is acceptable, I don't have any examples where it's preferable.

Western name order was invented to more easily acclimate the English-speaking world to Japanese names. Still, Chinese people have been part of their cultural sphere for much longer and have never been subjected to Western name order (correct me if I'm wrong, I've never researched this in depth). Later, with the popularization of Korean media, the Koreans didn't get their name order reversed either. The phenomenon seems exclusive to Japan as far as I've seen it.

Until a few years back, I was of the mind that Western name order was preferable by default, but actually talking to Japanese people about it showed most of them don't like their names used in reverse order, so now I avoid Western name order for real, which is slowing bleeding into me avoiding it for fictional characters too.

Another factor to consider is that Western name order was created as part of a process of acclimation to a new foreign culture and I feel like we're already at the point where America and Europe are already acclimated. The transition period is already over and Western name order can retire with its purpose fulfilled. However, I admit my lens here is very biased by my extensive contact with Japan and its culture.

But for a more nuanced discussion here, let's assume Western name order is still preferable by default and look at examples of where I would have used Eastern name order even when that was the mindset.

Steins;Gate is an example of a thing I'd maintain in Eastern name order since the original LabMem call each other nicknames based on this name order (Okarin for Okabe Rintarou, Mayushii for Mayuri Shiina, and Daru for Hashida Itaru) and there are a lot additional jokes based on those nicknames. I could adapt all of those if I were to insist on Western name order, but that's too much extra work for no tangible benefit. Not to mention the average otaku level of the cast raising the Western accessibility bar regardless of what name order we're going with.

That said, Sagrada Reset has a lot less pushing factors than Steins;Gate but I still opted for Eastern name order in my translation just to accommodate the wordplay with Oka Eri's name. Just one small thing like this is enough.

Another example of a series where Western name order doesn't work is Type-Moon, mostly thanks to the Fate/ side that currently comprises 80% of it. Many Servants are Chinese (+ a Vietnamese pair), who don't customarily get Western name orders, so it would feel randomly inconsistent if the Japanese characters did. Any series that plays multiculturalism as a major element should default to each character's original name order to better express differences between nations. There is also how the text itself plays with name order, which is a neat thing to reflect in a translation. I'm talking about how every Japanese character uses Eastern name order for Rin, Shirou, Ayaka, Kiritsugu, Aoko, Touko, etc. while the majority of the Clock Tower/Snowfield people use Western name order. Waver being a rare English man who calls Japanese people by Eastern name order informs character, for example.

Lastly, I have Danganronpa as an example of a series where it's okay to use Western name order. The only major nickname involving Eastern name order is Harumaki, which needs to change anyway for some puns. All characters have Japanese names except Celestia Ludenberg and Sonia Nevermind, and those two don't swap the order of anyone's name, so you're not removing any level of characterization unique to them by working this change. No harm to be had.

[digimonirl]

Do you have any info you could share about different kinds of digivices and their pros and cons? I'm new to the scene and looking into getting one, but I don't know the difference between dockers and linkers and all that. And what kinds do you recommend?

Welcome to the club! I've actually been meaning to make a reference post for different types of digivices so this is a great opportunity to cover some basics. I'm only going to go through the most common models here but it should still help answer any surface level questions!

1. Dockers: small, rectangular digivices named for the data ports or "docks" along the top most side. These are your bread and butter digivices; compact with a simple UI and easy to build and maintain. A lot of tamers, myself included, still go to these as our daily drivers. Shells are normally made of plastic or metal and come in a wide variety of colors and patterns.

2. Pendulums: The next step up from a docker; they share many qualities but instead of being rectangular they are shaped like a slightly oblong octagon. While many would argue that they're a variant of dockers, I personally think that their larger starting memory and improved UI make them their own beasts.

3. Linkers: The most modern mainstream digivice. These are even more compact than their predecessors and are meant to be worn on the wrist. A favorite of especially active tamers, these digivices even have apps that allow you to record your own vital information alongside your digimon. Isn't that neat!

Obviously, it's been nearly 30 years since first contact and people all over have been making homemade digivices since the get go. There are dozens of niche models that never caught on with a variety of functions that were found to be either dangerous or redundant as time went on. This post isn't trying to be a definitive list, more an introduction to the tried and true options. I hope this helps and good luck on finding your first partner!

[toiletpotato]

I think one of the things that bugs me about Duolingo's redesign is how similar it feels to school now.

Previously we were able to hop around subjects and do that as we please, but now it is a linear path organized into sections and units and lessons, just like the way a lot of languages are taught in schools- something it seemed Duolingo wanted to differentiate itself from.

Getting rid of the forums/locking them was also a strange move, as with the general move of the internet having things be behind walls (either of a discord or now private reddit page).

From a pedagogical perspective I suppose I can see the reasoning behind making the tree more linear as there are some things that ought to be taught before other topics- you wouldn't learn the subjunctive before you learned how verbs work, for example. However, especially regarding the asynchronous/self-study nature of Duolingo when combined with the gamificafion aspect, I think that it hinders it. With the old design, you could pick whichever topic you had unlocked that interested you, but now it forces learners into this predetermined path. So, if someone is not jiving with a topic, then it may ultimately be antithetical and cause them to not learn that day or lose their streak. This is especially prevalent with the hearts design because it can be rather disheartening to try and try again only to have to wait a set number of hours on a topic you just want to power through.

The streak of it all also is not helpful from a casual language learning perspective due to the incessant notifications- it becomes less about learning a language and more about pleasing the bird- much like perfect attendance in schools. A student should not feel pressured to put their health (mental/physical) at risk as then their learning will falter! You cannot learn effectively if your other essential needs are not met (shout out to Maslow's hierarchy).

It would be interesting to see Duolingo move to a week-based streak/attendance model, or reward the learner/user for what they have done, rather than what they haven't (ex. You did two lessons/practiced twice this week- that's awesome!). If they really must maintain the streak aspect, consider making it biweekly- so long as the user does something in a two week period, they are rewarded.

Now, would this potentially affect their learning statistics about how x number of hours = x semesters in university? Maybe! But learning isn't a race. You never finish learning. I started learning Spanish over seven years ago and I am not done. However, this race to fluency is a larger issue with how language learning is marketed (ex become fluent in Spanish in x number of days!) that is honestly unfair to the brand new learner. Fluency exists in levels, but this isn't an easy thing to "market" since most folks want an end all be all, they don't really like ambiguity.

This isn't to try to turn anyone away from language learning- it started as me making a fuss about Duolingo being strange and ended up... well this. Please learn a new language- for fun! You can learn it casually, picking up a few survival phrases (which are GREAT), try and read your favorite book, or watch a TV show!!

Language is all around us, it is ever changing and wonderful, and I think it is really neat.

[parabelllvm]

the other two get hcs about how wild they can be and all i do for brodi is go "oh i love them. oh they're so strong. oh my baby" even though they're a grown ass ??? person??? being. grown ass being.

anyway, lets talk about brodi's tattoos/markings!

Crùin Ddroighin

Translates to Crown of Thorns in Cadayllean. whatever imagery you got in your head... and throw it out. it does not represent humility or sacrifice or suffering. it's not a mockery of a crown either.

it's what it says on the tin — a dark crown of "thorns" wraps around their left upper arm. it extends into other runes and tattoos and what not, but it's clear that it was there first and before all the others. it symbolizes what brodiaea truly is, which is something many have speculated on in Eokke. They most commonly resemble a fae but they do not feel fae, they've lived too long to be human, they're not dracnae, either, and no one has ever seen them shift into any sort of creature, it's something that has a lot of Cadaylleans wondering — especially those that live near Ailm.

however, it's this last point that is the most important.. because they are an animal shifter. the general term is mystlae and anyone that knew them from their "birth" would know that they're a male deer. Brodi will always default to calling themself a stag on the extremely rare occasions that they identify what they are by name. it isn't something they are comfortable sharing with people they aren't like... ride or die with, as the anonymity allows them some form of control over how they are perceived. they have heavy glamours and blocks in place to prevent anyone discovering that as well, making their energy a little murky for anyone that would normally know. i'll get into that more another time.

in any case, the crown displayed on their arm is not one made of roots or actual thorns, but one made to resemble their antlers when not maintaining a fae-like/human-like form. it is their crown and it is a symbol of their authority, in a way. their presence in Cadaylle is seen as a physical blessing, as they are the only one that has gotten to the level of knowledge that they currently wield at their literal fingertips. while they could do some real damage with that power, they don't and have never once considered it.

they instead chose to watch over Ailmtinne'eadhe, the Wrucilese, and anyone that needs their eye for eternity. it's their devotion, their passion — all wrapped in a neat little marking that most would see and not think twice about. though, it's not for the gods — not for their grace, not for their favor, not even for their attention — but for the denizens of the realm and the ones that matter more.

Snàthlainn gu Fàid

Translates directly to Thread of Fate. This one, coincidentally, wraps around their arm on the same side — the left.

this one is also pretty straightforward. it's a winding strand that winds down their arm starting at their wrist and then branches out in six different directions in a somewhat spiral pattern. it is the visual representation of the soul link they have to six other beings they've taken under their umbrella of protection. it's designed to be one-way, so Brodiaea can tell where they are, if they're in distress or in danger or viscerally angry, can get to them in an instant if needed, and can pull them out of whatever situation they're in via teleportation.

because it's a visual representation of that connection, strain on it is also very visible. the strands are relatively thin-looking, so one has to be standing very close to Brodi to effectively pick them out against their skin and recognize when one seems fainter than the others. Brodi knows each strand by name so... there's never any confusion on their end as to who needs their help.

like the first, it is a symbol of their passion and of their devotion. they chose to do this, and they chose to be among the first that wanted to protect these six beings and help them navigate something they couldn't possibly comprehend on their own. Brodi knows that they've broken a cardinal law of the realm — "tampering" with souls — but they don't regret it a second of it. the longer they live, the more clear it is to them that... this realm that they live in is very fractured. it and nearly every individual that dwells in it honestly can't do much if the gods above or whatever lurks below elects to use it for another "proxy war", such is the case for these six beings. the gods did nothing as these individuals were taken advantage of and continue to do nothing even as they suffer.

so what does it matter if they break a law. or two. or three. they, at the very least, are doing something.

[risu5waffles]

quis custodiet ipsos custodes?

ok, sue me, i just pasted the latin from somewhere else.

no decent stream community can be maintained by the streamer alone, and the empty room is no different. hive and chronos have been constant almost since the beginning, and provided invaluable service as mods, and even more invaluable... umm... i don't know what word goes here... i wanted to double the line wiv invaluable, but... they've been good friends who have been there for me when things have been good and when things have been bad. service is not the word for that.

i'd love to have them both here some day, so i can give proper thanks, and just so i can see them in meatspace, but until then, i guess these quasi-real worlds we create will have to suffice.

someday.

on a technical side, whoo-eee, this was such a pain in the keister. mostly the photo. i try to have a care not to have folx in the shot, 'cause, like, i don't have their permission, you know? nakano makes that real tough, tho'. it's just busy, most all the time. and the halls to the side where the real neat looking shops are, like this one, are pretty narrow. so you just kinda have to find a spot where you can get the angle you want, and just camp there wiv the phone in front of your face until things clear out. it can take awhile. you start to feel like you're in everyone's way, because, literally, you are in everyone's way.

i'm still having a bit of trouble not having the overlay crunch when you zoom in. i'm exporting from the ps4 as pings, and i'm sizing them up when i export from 'pea (like, to make the transparency?), but this one, like, it was still fuzzing a bit in zoom? not terribly, not as bad as some of the ones i was exporting as jpegs, but enough that it was making me grind my molars a bit, and i wound up starting back from the screenshot stage and redoing everything fresh. i would have liked the overlay here a touch smaller, so you could see all the spiderlegs sticking out, but this was the best it was going to be. i'm still really happy wiv it, mind you, very much so, but it's not exactly what i wanted, and that always leaves me feeling a bit salty, you know?

i remembered to grab a pic of the base build wivout the overlay cut-out on top.

this was actually a super easy build, and was probably the easiest part of the project. one of my bigger creator-regrets was that we never got that archive level published. i loved building that, and the particular look is one i find quite easy to work in. so, yeah, i woke up this morning wiv the idea, and i had it done in about an hour and a half, and half of that was fighting through "bitch, you just woke up" brainfog.