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threepandas · 2 months ago

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Counting Down: 3 [<-Prev][]

My eyes were getting worse. There was nothing the healers could really do. Because, ultimately? There was nothing actually wrong, with my eyes. They were working exactly as nature intended. Exactly as my genetics designed. It was just... badly designed. Poorly suited, unfortunate perhaps, ill optimized in every way, for my environment.

If I had been living alone? Or in a sparsely populated, low growth environment? Subterraneanly? Well, THEN my eyes would have been perfect. Perhaps a bit on the over sensitive side, but otherwise perfect. I would have been a Sage. Elevated to Pathfinder, for my ability to safely lead my tribe through the dark.

But here? On Coruscant? Amongst the constant flow of billions? It is AGONY. A disability of the worst sort. Like two ice picks, slamming light and information into my brain. At the rate I am developing...

At... At the rate I am developing?

I may eventually be as good as BLIND. Be forced to wear a glorifed blindfold. And... and when THAT, inevitably fails? As it WILL fail? There have been... been somber, serious, terrifying talks? On if I wish to first try removing myself to a remote Temple for seclusion (and risk the lack of medical care that comes with it.) or if? O-or if?

Medically, it would be better to just... replace my eyes.

T-They can't even guarantee? That it would work. There are species that see through the Force. My problem may BE that I am somehow one of them and simply not physically built for it. That I developed the needed mutation. I... I could lose my eyes for NOTHING.

Yet...?

The headaches. The LIGHT. I can not take missions anymore. Can not even help in the Crèches. Their unfiltered, unshielded Force presences? Are like staring into search lights. I can not even help with Initiate classes, having grown too fucking sensitive! How will I EVER find a Padawan?!

I... I wanted one. Someone to guide and teach. Someone to watch grow.

Maybe that grief, (that I might never have one, that I KNOW he can do better,) is what makes me so short with Qui-gon. Obi-Wan is a youngling, damn it! Not a crutch for you mental health! Something which? Of course leads me to chasing Yan's Padawan down. REPEATEDLY. (Stop running! Boy! I KNOW YOU CAN SEE ME, QUI-GON! You better STOP RUNNING!! Listen to your Aunty while she SCOLDS YOU!) Because SOMEONE needs to beat that into the stubborn, heart sick, fool's head!

Why not me? I'm stuck on medical leave! Possibly FOREVER.

(Have a treat, Obi-Wan. You're too skinny.)

It's not productive. I KNOW it's not productive. The harder I push, the more Qui-gon digs his heels in. Yan's old Padawan was many things, but weak willed? Even in the depth of his grief? Hardly one of them. The whole LINEAGE was stubbornness made manifest. Literal STONES we more agreeable and subject to change.

I just wished Padawan Kenobi wasn't the one paying for it.

So, I helped. Without judgment. No harrasing him about his weight or his injuries, no demands he explain this or that. Just... there, if he's ready. If he trusts me. Bacta and pain relief, a safe place to sleep, someone to guide a peaceful meditation. And of course, Food. Ration bars by the basket. Take and hoard as many as you need. Here, both rich and mild foods to choose from.

Hugs and safety, I could do that. Be that. Put my emotions aside, for the sake of a child. Did his mere presence hurt? Yes. A LOT. But I would sooner die then let him know that. Bright and beautiful as his soul was, young and growing as he is? There is no pain, that is merely the confusion of crude matter. I am FINE. This... is FINE.

(Dispite the drugs, the meditation, it still HURTS.)

Neither Yan or Sifo like it. In fact, Yan is? Both in turns, heart sick and furious. His old Padawan entirely too good at dodging him. Dispite Yan being on the HIGH COUNCIL. Dispite BOTH Yan and Sifo, being on the High Council. It's genuinely impressive. Alarming, yes, that he uses such skill to avoid any attempts at therapy... but, well....

I've SEEN what the Mind Healers here consider a job "well done", with Sifo. Their definition of "help". So... granted, I understand completely. But he could just as easily take his Padawan on a "healing retreat"! Sneak away to get ACTUAL help from one of the other Sects! Illum perhaps? The Whills?

He KNOWS I'm right. It's why he's avoiding me.

(The little SHIT.)

Breathing in filtered, earth rich air, I tried to breathe out my stress. The Thousand Gardens do not just extend upwards. They went down as well. And they will continue to go upwards if ever another Temple is built upon the current one. Just like the last gardens, in which I sit, the light requiring plants that can be moved will be brought upwards. Those that can't? Get solar lamp systems.

Tiny biodomes, here in the dark. We do not kill our ancient trees, after all. Our plant and gardens. They are precious heirlooms. Living, breathing, friends. And besides? In the places they abandon, for the light up above? NEW gardens can be made! Subterranean ones. Glowing lichen and mushrooms, cave shrubs and parasitic low light trees.

It is peaceful, down here. Glowing plant life and distant lamps, like so many stars in the dark. The sound of running water and quite murmurs of the few who prefer such low light meditations. There are more then a few knights napping, having found gardens that speak to them. Their various light sensitive visual organs, finally having found relief.

Somewhere above me, Sifo is pacing. Erratic. Another vision of death and despair, of clones marching upon us all. It is getting to him. Like the slow eroding of a cliff face. Death by a thousand cuts. Over and over and OVER. Despair. Won't you do something? DESPAIR. Don't you CARE? DESPAIR. I can offer the power to FIX things. Don't you want it? Don't you WANT it~??

The Dark Side is a cruel and insidious thing. A riptide. An undertow, which drags you out to sea, then drowns you. It offers sweetness, safety, freedom. Only to deliver oblivion and pain. Power without control, it corrodes you. Destroys all that you were. Giving voice to your worst impulses, silencing your better nature.

You become a mockery of yourself.

I... I am scared for him. For Yan. I can see the outline of their ends, beginning to line up before them. They are pulling away. Growing frustrated. Their discussions with me are growing less philosophical difference with the Order, and more... dangerously immoral. Heretical. Nothing actionable, of course, but... I wouldn't expect their to be.

Both are High Councilors. They, of all people, know how to toe the line.

What do I DO? I ask the Force. Meditation after meditation, seeking guidance. How can I help them? And yet... I get no reply. No insight. Only nudges towards Obi-Wan. Towards teaching and compassion. Slipping him lessons on how to help slaves cope with the trauma. Philosophical debates on the doctrine of attachments. And, of course? Showing him my completely personal project, that HE will in no way someday need, of creating lesson plans for my hypothetical future Padawn.

How VERY thoughtful of him! To help me get some of those data pads! To help me research and revise my plans. He'll make a great mentor one day~ Amused? Me? No, no, dear. I was just thinking of a funny joke. Have ever given thought to Form Three?

Also! Never trust the Senate intelligence, dear. They are full of shit and couldn't spot a slaver if the sale was happening right in front of them. Do your own research whenever possible and NEVER rush in. NEVER.

(Yan refused to rush the assignment. Was in the Process of contacting the Armorer of Little Keldab for information. A Team was sent behind his back. On the word of the Senate alone. They almost completely DIED and the rightful Ruler of the Mandalorian people? Enslaved. Force knows where. Are you HAPPY now? Was rushing WORTH it? Your "regrets" mean NOTHING to the dead.)

It's building. I can feel it. The darkness is growing, my friends drifting farther and farther from the light. All, while? I am stuck. Disabled by my eyes. By the pain my so call "blessing" gives me.

Giving up on another useless meditation, I rise. Head for the lifts. The hallways down here are... quite. The old temple towers a peace place. Filled with the ancient echos of long dead Masters. There are room down here. Apartments. They are unassigned, yes, but no one truely cares if they are used. Granted, I would have to dust them myself.

I consider it. The light, (or really, the lack there off) is much more comfortable down here. The quite, less stressful. If Sifo didn't have such traumatic associations with darkness? I would honestly suggest moving down here with me. It might do us both some good.

As the lift rises, I tap the side of my lenses. Momentarily blinding myself in preparation for the increasing light. Soon enough, vision returns. The cacophonous press of noise. Oh dear, it's mid-meal. I should have waited. No wonder it's so loud and bright. Gritting my teeth, I keep my expression calm and pleasant. My shoulders relaxed.

It is not the younglings fault, that it hurts to be near them. They should NOT have to carry that guilt nor knowledge. I walk calmly but swiftly. This is fine. This Is Fine. Ow, ow, ow, OW, OW! This Is Fine!

Relief. I get passed them. The healers are right. Damn it. It really IS not just my eyes that are growing more sensitive. I... I so badly wanted them to be wrong. But as days go by? As weeks pass? Everything has slowly gotten... gotten so LOUD. Sharp and shrill, grating and rumbling, barks and squeals. Just? Just ALL of it. Too much.

Loud.

At the rate i'm going? I'm going to end up in a Force damned helmet like some sort of Mandalorian! And... and yes, I know there is no shame in that. That each race has their own specific needs. That it is humanist to think certain traits are somehow BETTER then others. I just... just feel like I am slowly losing myself. My freedom.

I am scared.

My body feels like it's betraying me.

Somewhere, near the High Council's chambers, I can feel Yan seething. How long has it been? Since the three of us coexisted in simple peace? Before Sifo's accident? Their appointments to the Council? Or was it as recent as Xanatos and the disaster of his Fall? How... How long have I been a pillar? For the mental and spiritual strength of others?

It's grinding me to dust. I'm so tired. Just... just want to rest. For just a moment. Without the fear, that my moments weakness? Will condemn a good man. Will irreversibly harm, a growing child. I.. Force, I am so tired.

Sifo is waiting for me, in my apartments. My plan for a moments rest? A fleeting, impossible, dream. He is pacing, pacing, pacing. Lines of tension and darting eyes. Hands clenching and unclenching. Running through his already ruined hairdo, again and again. It was easy to see what someone might think him mad. He certainly looked it.

"I saw them again. Bastards! I don't-! What am I doing wrong?!" He gasped the second he laid eyes on me. Already ranting before the door even closed. "I vow not to step foot on Kamino? They still appear. Avoid Mandalorians? Still! They exsist! But, oh! What if I plan Temple defenses? Surely THEN, right?! No! They somehow get passed them! Is it me? Am I the problem!?"

"TELL ME!"

He spun, eyes wide and manic, arms spread. As though inviting a blow. Inviting his own destruction. Hair falling from his careful hairdo in mad whisps, clothes disheveled, hands faintly trembling... he did not look well. Looked near tears. Teetering on the edge of something ugly.

How long could he hold out? I wondered.

I didn't have a comforting answer for him. No sweet and gentle words. But I could offer a hug. A hand to hold, as he faced down the dark. Sometimes... sometimes there WAS no right answer, Sifo. Sometimes the pieces were all on the board yet. Or the very act of try to stop Fate, made it so. I don't know. Can't know. Neither of us can.

But I can be there WITH you, until the end. And we can do our best.

Have you eaten yet? Had any tea? When was the last time you slept? Terrible things do not become easier to bear, if you burn yourself up, trying to face them. You have to take care of yourself too. I stepped forward, into that desperate stance, and pulled him into my arms.

"You believe me. You BELIEVE me. It's just inevitabe, too you, isnt it? That's what your trying not to say, isn't it? That you've run out of options. " Sifo's arms wrapped around me in a desperate grip. Like a drowning man holding onto the only life raft at sea.

"You're just afraid. Don't want me to break myself, destroy myself, chasing something that can't happen. Because we're Jedi, and you know we have to try. Try and try and TRY! Until it destroys us. Destroys everything. Hoping against all hope that they'll just... just LISTEN! But they WON'T, will they? They won't listen. It's inevitable. A cleansing. Purging of the old, to give rise to something new. The will of the Force itself."

Cleansing? Purging?! Alarm bells started to ring in my head. Nothing good came of talks of "cleansings" or "purgings" of ANYTHING.. NOTHING. I opened my mouth to refute him. Never got the chance. Yan's Force presence slammed into ours. The equivalent of crashing open doors and stomping feet.

Startled and alarmed, I turned just in time to see him sweep into my apartment like a raging, high society, storm cloud. The expression on his face could peel paint.

"Apparently," he snarled, barely holding together. "my Grand-Padawan has SUPPOSEDLY left the Order! Despite showing no prior interest in doing so, sending no missives to friends or fellow Creche-mates, and? Of course? Let us not forget? SUPPOSEDLY doing so? For some TART in the midst of an ACTIVE WARZONE!"

Horrified, I felt the blood drain from my face. No. NO! I thought I had more TIME! Please! Dear FORCE! Tell me, Qui-gon did not LEAVE his Padawan on-!

"Oh yes! CLEARLY, this is but a childish desire to wet his-!" Yan visibly struggled to beat back the surge of incoherent WRATH and fear. The disappointment. They HORROR at a child, in such unimaginable danger. "The Council won't even HEAR that there could be anything amiss! Won't even CHECK. A supposed WASTE of RESOURCES, when already we are stretched too thin! A CHILD, potentially ABANDONED in a WARZONE! And they-!? THEY-!?"

My mind races as I pull away from Sifo's grip to face Yan. The Order won't authorize use of their ships to go check. But... But? Are we not Jedi? We serve the Force. Our mission is to PROTECT. Minimize suffering, bring Light to the universe. Take a sabbatical! NOW! In fact? We ALL will. It will be GOOD for me, to be away from Coruscant's crowded population.

Call your Family, Yan. We need a Serranian Ship. Ask if we can borrow the Senator's, since it's on planet. We aren't slaves. They can't stop us, if we simple decide to GO. Punish us? Perhaps. But not STOP us.

An almost roguish grin settles poorly, under the near manic glint in Yan's eyes. Too expressive. Too unhinged. He has never been anything but composed, he values it too highly. Sifo's answering grin is just as manic. Just as... slightly wrong. Too much. Fitting both too practiced and ill fitting on their faces.

Like they are feeding off each others madness... some part of me hisses in concern. A feedback loop, we aren't strong enough to stop.

I try to ignore it. Focus on the now. There is a child in danger. It's... it's fine. Probably. All I have to do, is keep them away from the Sith! They... they won't Fall. They WON'T.

R-Right?

Yet... watching them plan our trip? Calling in favors and gleefully plotting. Casually threatening. Feeding of each others energy, as they do. I... I am not so certain. Once again, that moment of dissonance strikes true. Like looking around and realizing I am an actor on the stage of a Tragedy, ready line after line, as we march onward to the inevitable End.

Attachments are going to condemn you. Seems to whisper the Force. Like chains that choke and squeeze.

I know, I whisper back. But I am foolish and still want to save them.

Please let me try.

Please.

Let me TRY.

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violetganache42 · 11 months ago

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Highlights from tonight's movie night celebrating some of the different teams Donald has been a part of in categorized and chronological order (I honestly like this format. I might stick with it):

"Boat Builders":

Good news: The short has subtitles! Bad news: They're not in English, so you still can't understand what the fuck Donald is saying.

Donald: "Yeah, even a child can do it!" Godfrey: "Even Della could do it!"

justaboot: "god's third choice after the 3 stooges"

Max's mother has been found

"The First Adventure!":

Bradford Hate Club

Ludwig appearance!

puffywuffy8904: "he's serving whatever the opposite of cunt is" WriteBackAtYa: "So di—"

(I love this screenshot. 😂)

The reference to Della's letter

WriteBackAtYa and I being on the same wavelength

Eat the rich uncle (Sorry, Scrooge, but I had to. XD)

"You can't mute me, old man!"

RIP Donald's guitar

The Temple of Doom parallel!

PAPYRUS

"Treasure of the Golden Suns" easter egg!

"fragile old body"

POGO CANE

Black Heron doing the smug anime girl laugh (You know what I'm talking about.)

"I'm the chosen one!" Pure Deweycore

"So long, suckers!"

Just Black Heron in general (She's a fun villain. lol)

DONALD KILL

Us ranting about Bradford using the Papyrus of Binding to escape like the COWARD THAT HE IS! WHY WE OUGHTA— COME BACK HERE, YOU LITTLE—

If I had a nickel for every time Black Heron lost her robot arm, I'd have two nickels. Which isn't a lot, but it's weird that it happened twice.

Me: "BEAKLEY YOU FOOL" Godfrey: "YOU FUCKING FOOOOOOOOL"

"The House of the Lucky Gander!":

Louie "I do hate hot dogs" Duck noticing the neon lights shaped like a hot dog

"We're all gonna die! I'VE WASTED MY LIFE!"

Launchpad deserves his own episode dedicating to his love life

Gladstone Hate Club

Scrooge looking at the camera like he's on The Office

puffywuffy8904: "gladstone you have a haircut shut up"

Huey autism moment

Just how bored and tired Dewey, Webby, and Scrooge were after seeing Aquarioon

Dewey and the jade tigers

"NOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!"

27!

Webby's love for chocolate fountains

"And a distraction."

Scrooge: "I don't even get to be part of the blasted challenge?" Huey:

Real-Life-Pine-Tree: "Roasted duck anyone?" Me: "'Danny: I'll have the duck.'"

Louie's motivational speech

"Where did that come from?"

Us @ Liu Hai: RIP bozo (at least until DuckTales World Showcase Adventure)

The underwhelming Golden Cricket and how fucking bored and exhausted the family was

"Mt. Fuji Whiz":

LotTC basically being DuckTales on crack

Me: "Hell is a city. Where have I seen that before? 🤔" Godfrey: "Hazbin Hote—[gunshot]"

My idea of Clinton and Webby bonding over Clan McDuck history

Missy thirsting for Panchito

The return of the Ari the Autism Bird!

Xandra and the nieces in general (They're some of the best characters in the show. ^^)

*The Three Caballeros are stuck in the Underworld* AMJ: "We have a very simple solution." DT17!Huey: "This doesn't feel simple."

Jack Skellington moon

Donald saying the Karen phrase

Xandra and Charon clothes swap

Panchito being "that" guy

The Sheldgoose family tree taking notes from Goofy's family tree regarding the relatives' designs

IN THE PLUMS!

Clinton hugging Donald 💖

Tokyo? LIKE IN DUCKTALES!

"Potatoland":

Dreamy: "SEE HE HAS 27 FINGERS" Me: "27!"

POTATOLAND! POTATOLAND!

"Mickey, I am fed up with your bullshit devil magic."

Praising Mickey's characterization in the Paul Rudish shorts

Donald's blush

No more Idaho

Just the whole short in general. It's the best. XD

"Mickey, Donald, Goofy: The Three Musketeers":

Black Arts Beagle's Musketeer cousins

puffywuffy8904: "they wanna be Scrooge soooo bad"

Donald being, and I quote Jamie, "a punk bitch" in this movie

The return of Pete Hate Club

"Whoa, he's bisexual, I didn't know that!"/"By the way, I'm bisexual! I forgot, I- forgot to announce it! How do you turn this shit off- wait-"

The entire opera gag

youtube

Clarabelle appearance!

Dreamy pointing out the parallels how Pete is to Minnie what Bradford is to Scrooge

In the Hall of the Mountain King

"Why did the music stop?"

"Together, we'll save the princess or die trying!"/"…Die? …Die?"

melcat33: "Minnie discovers she's into bdsm"

WriteBackAtYa and I quoting Philip CD-i Legend of Zelda

The turtle trying to be the rooster from Robin Hood at one point

"That little diddy's starting to grow on me."

Pete referencing The Lion King

Donald FINALLY unleashing his iconic temper

melcat33: "Goofy finally being Dad Material" WriteBackAtYa: "But he was daddy material"

(Look what you made me do! /lh)

Pirates of Penzance

"Not long… maybe… 40 years?"

The movie ending with the fucking Can-Can

Learning about how Tokyo Disneyland had Mickey, Donald, and Goofy as the Three Musketeers and they all looked AMAZING (Why does Japan get all the cool shit?!)

#my post #duckblr movie night #dt cafeteria table #duckblr #boat builders #ducktales #ducktales 2017 #ducktales reboot #ducktales season 1 #the house of the lucky gander!#ducktales season 3 #the first adventure!#legend of the three caballeros #mt. fuji whiz #mickey donald goofy: the three musketeers #Youtube

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drakiandh · 1 year ago

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Shifting Jewels - Chapter Two, Strawberry Trip

Another one. Imma update every Saturday in hopes that I can make these chapters without stress. I am in love so far, and am currently making their designs. Anyways, happy reading! Words - 4,265

Star’s gaze lingered on the fallen gem, its vibrant red hues now dulled by the golden corruption that had taken hold. His weapons returned to their places within his gem with the flick on his true hand. The air around him hung heavy with a mix of emotions, a complex tapestry woven from joy, grief, and fear.

Joy surfaced at the sight of Painite, an old companion he thought lost to the ravages of time. Grief welled within him, knowing that despite the years that had passed, Painite still harbored resentment and hatred. Fear, however, clutched at his core, an icy grip that tightened with the looming threat of the corruption that had claimed his friend.

Approaching cautiously, Star moved towards the gem as if the very act of proximity might trigger the other’s reform. He hesitated before gently nudging it with his foot, as though testing the waters. When no reaction followed, he reached down and cradled the corrupted gem in his hands, a sense of regret lingering in his touch.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured, his voice barely audible, as if speaking too loudly might shatter the fragile moment. His finger traced the intricate cracks on the gem’s surface. “I’m sorry I didn’t find you sooner.”

Before Painite could attempt to reform, Star enveloped the gem in a sphere of deep navy blue, cradling it gently. He hesitated to send the other gem to the temple back in Beach City, opting instead to shrink down the bubble small enough to fit it into his pockets. Clutching the bubbled gem in his hands, he stood and walked over to the nearby pillar. Retrieving his jacket, Star concealed the gem under the fabric, beginning the journey back to the nearby human town. As he walked, he couldn’t bear the silence, so he decided to speak aloud.

“Things have gotten better, at least in my combat skills,” Star murmured into the open air, absentmindedly rubbing the bubble with his thumb. “When I last visited Rose, I could handle nearly three whole minutes in a fight with her. I wonder how she is; it’s been, what, a hundred years since I’ve visited?”

He was certain that if Painite could hear him, he’d be complaining about Star talking his ears off. Star weakly chuckled at the thought, the memory quickly tainted by their current relationship. “It wasn’t my fault,” he began, hopping down the stone path while keeping the gem within the bubble steady. “Well, it was, but could you blame me? I couldn’t bear the feeling of being just some slave to them. Blue was cold and rude to me, assigning me a purpose without even checking if I was functioning properly. Sure, I’m glad she didn’t, because if I wasn’t, she would’ve shattered me, but the thought would’ve been nice. Yellow was just an ass to me, telling me to ensure Pink would win the war. I’m not even going to mention White; she was terrifying. Pink was a lot better before, well, you know. She was the only one who treated me like someone alive, but even then, she was distant and only really interacted for war-related matters.” Star rambled.

“When Rose offered my freedom, she treated me like I was something alive, not just some tool to see into the future. How could you have stayed? Did you like being their slave? Being nothing more than what you were made to do?”

Star could already imagine the words Painite would say if he wasn’t poofed and bubbled in his hands. “My purpose is what I am made to do. Why should I fight it?”

“But what about after it?” Star responded to the whispers of the question. “After the war, would you be shattered? Poofed? If you were lucky, you’d be taken by Yellow and sent to fight there. But is there really nothing for you other than just claiming worlds filled with life to make more repressed gems? Earth is a free world, Painite. It’s not too late to renounce your allegiance to the Diamonds. I doubt they would even take you back if you somehow get to Homeworld again. They’ve probably already made thousands of Painites on some claimed world of theirs, and maybe they’ve already created thousands of Star Sapphires too. So what’s the point when they’ve already got copies of us?”

They arrived in town before Star could continue, prompting the blue gem to sigh and tuck the blue bubble safely into his pocket. After ensuring the bubble wouldn’t pop when he moved, he shook his still-blue hands back into their false brown color and began his trek toward the nearest warp pad, conveniently located on the other side of the human town.

“Hey, Star!” The Sapphire turned his head toward the human who walked up to him, smiling nervously. He recognized this person as the one who had encountered him in the forest.

“Hey, Carl,” Star greeted, faking a warm smile. He chuckled, clearly nervous.

“I heard a big bang earlier; did you find that big beast and take care of it?” The human asked. Star’s hand drifted down to the bubble hidden in his pocket.

“Yep!” he responded, popping the ‘p’. “You won’t have to worry about it now.”

“Thank god,” the human sighed before offering a genuine smile. “Want to stay over for a while? I know a good hotel-”

“No, thank you, though.” Star cut the human off, still smiling. “I’ve got to get back home.”

“You sure?” The human asked.

“Sure,” Star nodded. The human watched him for a moment before shrugging.

“Your loss.”

Star walked off before the human could say more, his smile falling when the human was out of sight. The Sapphire pulled his hood up to cover his expression, walking as casually and as fast as he could. He’d been to this town many times before, unintentionally earning himself a friendly traveler reputation. And true to his nature, he strived for everything to be pleasant around him.

He smiled and waved at each human that greeted him, engaging in brief conversations with those who asked him questions, and graciously accepting any small gifts offered. By the time he arrived at the edge of the village, the sun was dipping down the horizon, and Star felt the weight of exhaustion settling in.

“Alright,” he muttered, more to the gem in his pocket than to himself. “The warp pad should just be down this road.” The shadows of the night devoured the last remnants of sunlight, and hidden pockets of light illuminated his path. His own gem began to glow with its blue hue, casting a gentle radiance that helped him navigate through the darkness. Intrigued, he took out Painite’s gem, holding it in his hand to see if it, too, would glow. Surprisingly, it did, but the light was subdued and took on a purple hue due to the blue bubble encasing it. Star wondered how Painite’s true red color would look in the dark, but he dismissed the thought, assuming it would be dull and muted, much like Painite’s current appearance. Star pondered what might have happened to his once-vibrant friend for his colors to fade into a pale pink. Was it the corruption? It seemed unlikely, as most of the Corrupted gems he encountered retained the vibrant colors of their original forms. So, what had happened to change Painite’s appearance?

The warp pad glowed subtly in the surroundings, concealed yet unmistakable. Star felt a tired smile spread across his face as he stepped onto it, clutching Painite’s gem close to his chest to ensure it wouldn’t slip from his grasp in the beam. The white light enveloped him, a low hum filling the air as he traversed to his home. The journey took only a few moments, and as the light dissipated upon arrival, he stepped off the pad and took a deep, unnecessary breath. His home, Mask Island, was saturated with the sweet scents of nature and pure water. Though he didn’t require air, he appreciated the olfactory experiences it offered. His smile grew a bit as he strolled down the familiar path he had tread countless times.

His eyes lifted to the split mountain in the center of the island, a frown creasing his features as he recalled the event that had caused it to crack open. He was grateful that Rose, Pearl, Garnet, and Amethyst had managed to thwart the Cluster, just as he had foreseen many years ago. When he first glimpsed that timeline, concern had gripped him about Rose’s fate, fearing that it might be altered, as if she wasn’t truly there. Yet, as the world beneath his feet still flourished under the first rays of the sun, he found ease, finding he had nothing to worry about.

His home, aside from being part of Mask Island itself, consisted of a simple cave within the mountain that had remained unscathed. While it lacked the embellishments he had envisioned, its dull grey walls still emitted the comforting yellow bioluminescence. It wasn’t filled to the brim with decorations, but it was home—his home. However, he knew there was one more task to accomplish before he could retire for the night. Stepping to the center of the cave, he summoned his shadows, drawing them from his gem’s light to form a large, protective dome. Placing Painite’s gem at the dome’s center, he stepped outside, ensuring Painite wouldn’t escape. Using one of his shadow hands, he punctured the blue bubble, and Painite’s gem fell to the ground.

Star stared at the freed gem, nerves coiling in his chest as he waited. He recalled that Painite had only poofed once before during the many years they’d known each other, and it had taken a considerable amount of time for him to reform. Star wondered how long it would take now that he was corrupted.

As it turned out, not very long. Painite’s gem began to glow in its vibrant red hue, illuminating the cave as his form emerged. Star winced as it shivered and glitched from the crack, but Painite reformed with a gasp. The red gem fell to his knees, frantically surveying his surroundings, eyes wide with shock. Upon spotting Star, an animalistic hiss escaped from his mouth, and he instinctively retreated as far as he could. Star winced, raising his hands in a gesture of surrender to try and calm the other gem down.

“Hey, it’s okay, I’m not gonna hurt you,” Star said softly, slowly, keeping a careful eye on Painite. The red gem continued to stare back, his mind not fully present, as he emitted a low growl. Star took a few steps back, recognizing it as a warning growl from past experiences. He patiently waited as Painite gradually regained his composure. After a few minutes, Painite blinked and slowly looked around.

“…Where am I?” Painite asked, his gaze returning to Star. The Sapphire didn’t respond immediately, lowering his hands and allowing Painite to stand, leaning on the dark navy of his containment.

“You’re on Mask Island,” Star explained gently, enunciating carefully to ensure his words reached the red gem. “You’re in my home.” To his surprise, Painite emitted a sharp laugh.

“I’m in your home? This hardly looks like a temple,” Painite remarked, his voice trembling slightly from exhaustion. Star frowned, torn between leaving Painite to rest and pressing for the information he sought.

“How did you survive the Diamonds’ blast?” he inquired, stepping forward until he was a foot away from the dome. Painite glared at him, his teeth clenched and bared in an obvious threat, but he appeared too weary to do more. In fact, it seemed Painite knew he was too fatigued to fight, so he opted to provide an answer instead.

“I hid in Earth’s crust,” Painite replied simply.

“But how?” Star pressed, unsatisfied with the brevity of the explanation. His insistence drew a hiss from Painite.

“The Cluster didn’t get corrupted,” Painite explained slowly. “It was too deep for that. I thought if I got deep enough, I would be safe.” He paused, shifting his weight slightly. “I was not fast enough.”

That was all Star needed to hear. “Okay,” he breathed, nodding to himself. His eyes snapped to Painite’s leg as it glitched, forcing the red gem down with a shout. Star responded by shouting the other’s name and bringing a hand to his gem, summoning the old healing liquid from the depths of his memories. Luckily, the glitching on Painite’s form faded quickly, leaving the red gem on the ground. “Pain,” Star called, waiting until the other’s single eye stared at him. He lifted the liquid floating in his hand, holding it out in an offering. “I can heal your gem if-”

“No!” Painite hissed, wincing as he got to his feet again. Star recoiled as if he’d been hit, surprise evident on his features.

“No?” Star repeated, confused. “What do you mean no?”

“I will heal my own gem,” Painite responded, leaning heavily on the wall of the dome. “I do not need your help to do so.”

“Dude,” Star said incredulously. “Your gem is cracked, a good hit and it would shatter.”

“Then so be it,” Painite responded, finally gaining enough strength to only leave a hand on the wall in case he fell again. “But I will heal on my own.” Star stared at him, mouth slightly open in confusion.

“Wait? You don’t mind being shattered?” He asked, watching as Painite slowly began to walk closer, using the wall to guide him.

“No,” Painite responded simply. Star waited for something else, an explanation, a reason, anything, but all he got was silence. So instead he prodded. “Why?”

“Why?” Painite repeated, stepping closer. “Why not?”

“Why not? Because if you get shattered, you’d die,” Star said. “You want to die?”

“I don’t mind dying,” Painite responded, his arm slowly lifting in a gesture Star recognized well.

“Well, you should,” Star responded, keeping his eyes on Painite’s face. “You shouldn’t mind dying. There’s so much to live for on this planet.” That got a laugh from the other, short and fake.

“There is nothing on this planet worth living for, other than it being a good gem-producer planet,” Painite responded. “Besides, it has a new purpose. Soon the cluster should emerge; I felt those quakes.”

“The cluster has already been calmed,” Star said, causing Painite to pause. “I saw it 5321 years and two weeks ago. The cluster has been subdued, and I don’t see it returning anytime soon.” Star didn’t flinch as Painite’s arm thrust forward in a pathetic attempt to hurt the other. He did flinch when Painite’s arm pushed against the dome before recoiling with much more force than necessary, forcing the gem back and knocking him off balance.

Painite landed on his back, and a horrified gasp escaped Star as he heard the tell-tell sounds of a gem cracking. Painite’s form erupted into glitches, lasting much longer than the one before. When it settled down enough for Painite to reform fully, the red gem rolled onto his side and laid there. Star saw a few small yellow shards fall to the floor, bringing a kind of dread Star hadn’t felt since the Diamonds decided to corrupt the rebellion.

“Painite! Your gem!” He said, dissipating the dome and rushing forward. He knelt by the other, earning himself a weak hiss. He held out his hand with the healing water, his hand shaking slightly. “Please, please, please just let me heal you.” He begged, hating how the Diamonds had made him. To never give, to never act without being asked first. He hated how he was made to just be a future seeing and better pearl.

“…Only the Diamonds… can heal a gem…” Painite said weakly, glaring at Star.

“Come on dude, all you have to say is yes! You know how I was made, you know!” Star begged, tears beginning to pool in his eyes as fear caused him to shake. Painite simply stared, his expression softening from the hardness Star was so unused to. But just as quickly as it came, it vanished, leaving Painite to turn away.

“No.” He hissed.

“What is your problem?!” Star yelled, dropping the water and allowing it to fall to the ground as he stood up. He was tired of his friend’s attitude, hating the stubborn nature he had once loved. “Why won’t you let me heal you?!” Painite didn’t respond, only laying still as he looked away. Star groaned, burying his hands into his hair as he fought the urge to go destroy something.

“Fine!” He finally yelled. “Be that way! I’ll be back in the morning, and when I do, I better get an explanation as to why you’re being such a stubborn and stupid ass!” He reerected the dome with a grunt and turned on his heel, storming out in the open night. He left for the warp pad, knowing exactly where to go to vent his frustrations.

╭──────────.★..─╮

┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊

┊ ┊⋆ ┊ .

┊ ┊ ⋆˚ ⁭ ⁭ ⁭ ⁭ ⁭ ⁭ ⁭ ⁭ ⁭

✧. ┊ ⁭ ⁭ ⁭ ⁭ ⁭ ⁭ ⁭ ⁭ ⁭

⋆ ★

When Star returned to Mask Island the next morning, he wasn’t surprised to find his cave empty. Instead, he stood there, gazing at the tiny yellow shards scattered on the ground. A heavy sigh escaped from Star’s lips as he stepped off the wall he had leaned on, embarking on the paths he had etched into the earth. He wandered aimlessly, not actively seeking Painite, already resigned to the likelihood of not encountering the other gem for another millennium or so. The idea of visiting Rose crossed his mind—it had indeed been a substantial span of time.

With that contemplation, he altered his course toward the island’s warp pad. As he strolled, he observed the quaint watermelon creatures that now populated the island. Star had even picked up a smattering of their language, learning from them that his vision of the Malachite fusion had indeed come to fruition. The thought was disheartening, but he found solace in knowing that the remaining Crystal Gems had managed to handle the situation in his absence.

A sudden voice interrupted his musings, prompting him to shake off the inquisitive watermelon beings who had tagged along. Swiftly and quietly, he dashed towards the voice, halting in astonishment when he beheld Painite, forcefully pressing his corrupted foot onto the warp pad. Painite’s countenance twisted into a snarl, and it seemed as though he was barely restraining himself from summoning his weapon and assaulting the pad. “Why won’t you work?!” Painite bellowed in frustration.

Star hesitated, well aware of Painite’s propensity for coldness and hostility. Despite the lingering anger that urged him to confront Painite, his concern for his former companion took precedence. “Painite?” he called out tentatively, taking a cautious step forward. Painite’s head snapped towards him with a sickening crack, and for a fleeting moment, Painite softened slightly with surprise. Yet, that softness vanished as quickly as it came, replaced by a snarl as the red gem bared his teeth.

“What do you want?” Painite hissed, his attention fixated on activating the warp. Star assumed Painite regarded him as either too insignificant a threat or had already accepted his fate.

“I was just going to visit someplace,” Star said, maintaining a distance. Painite continued to glare, and Star respected his space. “Is something wrong?”

“You,” Painite hissed bitterly. “You’re the problem. If it wasn’t for you cracking my gem further, I would be able to leave this diamond-forsaken planet.” Star sighed, nodding apologetically.

“I am sorry for that,” Star said earnestly. “I can heal you if you want.” He flinched as Painite’s glare intensified.

Painite scoffed, and his expression hardened. “You think I’d trust you after what you did? I don’t need your help. I will find that damn fountain of yours and heal myself.”

Star paused. “Wait, fountain?”

Painite sighed. “Yes, the rumor of some healing fountain the rebellion used to heal gems. If it exists, I intend to find it.”

“Oh, it does,” Star said, earning a slightly less angry, confused look from Painite. “I helped make it.” Painite stared at him for a long moment, causing Star to fidget slightly under the gaze. Suddenly, Painite seized Star’s coat, pulling them close enough that their noses nearly touched. Due to Painite being on the warp pad, Star found himself shorter than the other, causing his face to redden from the unexpected proximity.

“Take me to the fountain,” Painite commanded, utilizing the authoritative tone Star had missed. The closeness and the rough voice almost next to his ear made Star melt momentarily, surrendering himself to the unexpected intensity. A good shake, however, brought him back to his senses, and he straightened up.

“R-Right! Sure!” Star stammered out, offering a crooked grin. Painite scoffed and released the Sapphire. Star yelped as he fell, his legs too jelly-like to hold him up. He groaned as he hit the ground, laying there for a moment before sitting up and rubbing the back of his head.

“You’ve been around too many humans,” Painite stated. “You’re acting like one.” Star laughed sheepishly before standing and hopping onto the warp pad, determined to push aside the warmth of the other’s breath on his face. Now was not the time to dwell on past connections.

“To the garden!” Star declared, waiting for the white light of the warp pad to envelop them. Nervousness crept over Star as the warp pad failed to illuminate, and Painite shot him a pointed look.

“Well?” Star flinched, rubbing the back of his neck.

“The warp pad to the garden must’ve been damaged,” he admitted, laughing nervously in an attempt to defuse the growing tension beside him.

“What?” Painite demanded. Panicking, Star scrambled to find a solution.

“I can take you to the next closest warp pad!” he suggested hurriedly. “A-And I can take you there directly!”

Painite seemed to ponder the option, studying Star intensely. Just as Star was about to propose another alternative, Painite spoke, his tone gruff, “Fine.”

“Wait, really?” Star asked, taken aback.

“Do not act like an idiot, Sapphire,” Painite hissed. “Just take me to the fountain, and I will let you live until I can repair the homeworld warp.” Star furrowed his brow but nodded nonetheless. With a simple thought, the warp pad activated, transporting them to the next nearest warp. The short journey was enveloped in silence, with only the subtle hum of the light surrounding them. Star considered offering an apology, as he had done millennia ago, but he hesitated, turning his gaze away.

The light subsided, revealing a sprawling field of strawberries and butterflies drifting gently on the breeze. Painite inhaled sharply, prompting Star to steal a glance at his reaction. The corrupted gem appeared lost, gazing over the field with an expression Star couldn’t quite decipher. After a moment, Painite blinked and stepped off the pad, unintentionally crushing a strawberry in the process. He then turned toward Star with a pointed look, his expression now devoid of the earlier confusion. Star nodded and hopped off, following an invisible path. Yet, curiosity got the better of him, and he couldn’t resist the allure of conversation.

“Sooo….” Star began, glancing at Painite from the corner of his eye. “Did you ever fight here?” Painite remained silent, and Star assumed he wouldn’t respond.

“Yes,” Painite finally replied, prompting a surprised “huh?” from Star.

“Wait, really? That’s cool! What was it like?” Star inquired, turning around and walking backward to face his travel companion. Painite frowned and swatted away a curious butterfly.

“Were you not there? You should have seen it for our Diamond,” Painite retorted, earning a wince from Star.

“Well, I had foreseen it. I told Pink that the battle would be horrible, but that there were going to be multiple. There were so many that I don’t exactly remember the details,” Star responded.

“Speak her name with respect,” Painite hissed before continuing. “This place is where the rebellion turned the tide of the war. And I was there from the beginning.”

“Really?” Star asked. “What was the biggest one? I remember you were a commander then.” Painite frowned, but Star knew just how to encourage him to share war stories.

Star could see the internal struggle on Painite’s face, but eventually, he sighed and began recounting the tales, much to Star’s delight. “The most significant battle I led was the one that changed the tide. It was destructive, and in the first half, we were winning.” A slight smile appeared on Painite’s face, lost in reminiscence. “We nearly shattered half of the rebellion forces with barely a scratch on our own. I could easily see their attempts and their paths, making it easy to thwart their plans.”

However, his smile quickly faded into a solemn expression, and Star noticed Painite absentmindedly rubbing his gem. “I became too confident, too cocky, and I paid the price. A single gem’s strike took out the leader of our forces, and the battle shifted in their favor. With my crack, I couldn’t fight on the front lines or guide my forces, and that’s the only reason you won.”

As the atmosphere turned somber, Star chimed in with a meek “Oh.” After a brief pause, he ventured, “I remember that day. I’m sorry.”

“Your apologies will not change the past, Star,” Painite responded, saying the name with a surprising absence of hatred, momentarily catching Star off guard. However, the resurgence of resentment was swift, and Painite’s gaze transformed into a piercing glare. “Now, how long will this ‘trip’ take?”

“Oh, just a little over a month.”

“What?!”

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eepuniverse · 2 years ago

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Hexel's World Tour Week 6 – Seoul

Everyone, I'm home. I know it sounds so cliche, but the moment I got off the plane in Seoul, I felt like I was coming home🇰🇷❤️. I already knew I could speak Korean, so getting through the airport and to the main city was a breeze (but can we talk about Incheon airport? It is so cool. I could literally spend a whole day at just the airport). I quickly got to my hotel in the middle of Seoul and it is way too nice. I feel like an imposter staying here hahaha.

There are some parts of the city that feel so familiar to me, even though I can't fully remember them. One day, I ended up just walking instinctively to this hole-in-the-wall kalgooksu restaurant and had the best noodle soup ever! 🍜(or I think it's the best I've ever had. It also felt so familiar!) Another place that felt super familiar was Dongdaemun and the Design Plaza. It kind of looks like a spaceship, but I knew exactly where to exit the subway station to get there. It was like instinct. The markets in Dongdaemun are so nice! They have so much fashion and accessories 👗 it was all so overwhelming. But I was able to buy gifts for Georgia while I was there

Talking about cool shops, I just wandered around Insadong for like half a day. There are so many side streets with cafes and small shops that you wouldn't even know were there unless you went to explore. From Insadong, I ended up walking to Bukchon traditional village. Both Insadong and Bukchon are known for their traditional hanok houses. And you all, I could LIVE in one of these. They're so beautiful and smell amazing like wood and paper! I found a place in one of these hanok houses called Aromind which lets you design your own perfume scent! It was so cool and I made one for Krista (hope she likes it!) 🎁

I also wrote down all the food places I loved to go with Dustin if we ever come to Seoul together, including this place that does bbq ribs DIPPED 🍖🧀 in melted cheese and a jjajangmyeon place that handrolls their noodles! I wanted to get Dustin a whole package of Hanwoo--prime Korean BBQ beef (did you know you could buy those?!)--but I was worried about getting it through customs, also, it was a lot to ship back to the US. So I got Dustin some green tea from Ossulloc 🍵, I know it's not technically food, but it's food adjacent! And their tea house in Gwanhun-Dong was so gorgeous with all the traditional ceramics and the little displays about how the teas are roasted! Plus, they're right by Jogyesa Buddhist Temple. They told me Jogyesa is the chief temple of the Jogye Order of Korean Buddhism. The building dates back to the late 14th century! And you can write your wish on a piece of paper and hang it like a little flag. All the wishes fluttering in the air were so beautiful!

I didn't mean to organize my tour around Seoul based on buying the perfect gifts for my friends, but it turned out that way. So I knew I had to find something amazing for Mac, and I did in Gangnam! That neighborhood kind of reminds me of midtown New York with all the skyscrapers and the fancy hotels and buildings. They have the flagship store to this amazing sunglasses store called Gentle Monster. But they don't just sell sunglasses, they also have amazing art displays that the store clerk told me rotates regularly! In fact, lots of the cool high fashion stores do fun artsy displays in Seoul! From there, I just popped over to Lotte World Tower and bought ALL the duty free skincare! I can't wait to try all my facemasks with the band! Apparently Lotte World Tower is the tallest building in South Korea. And they even have an aquarium in there!

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roseofcards90 · 8 months ago

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STEVEN UNIVERSE WATCH:

Hi hiii, everyone! I am planning on making a series of posts for my first time watching Steven Universe! I’ve been watching with @mgjong and it’s been so much fun omg! I can’t thank her enough for watching with me ❤️

For these, I’m going to talk about my breakdown analysis for each season (I’ll be doing Season 1A and Season 1B as separate), and I will also give commentary on every episode (yes I am insane) and highlight certain ones that are my faves! I will give my overall thoughts about the season as a whole, as well as the main characters and what I’ve learned of them so far.

Episodes marked with a ⭐️ are some of my personal faves from this season! Here is my overall breakdown of Season 1A down below:

*I also wanted to preface this saying that my knowledge of the show is very limited. Most of the things I’ve heard about it have come from when it was still airing, and my childhood friend who was obsessed with it at the time would also ramble about the show to me. I already know some major plot points (such as Garnet being a fusion and the Ruby and Sapphire stuff) and other minor details, but yeah most of this overall is still pretty blind to me!

So first off! I wanted to talk about some general points about the show:

- I absolutely love the art backgrounds in each episode. Some of them are just so pretty to look at. I know the animation can be iffy at times, but overall it is very consistent across episodes.

- Character designs are also pretty unique, and each one stands out to me among the cast! The fact that you can easily pick out even the minor characters is a huge win for character design imo

- The title cards also reflecting the time of day/weather for the episode is a neat detail! I did not realize that, Mg had to point it out to me kdfjdfnk and the fact that they imply little things from just that one shot (like it being the temple hand above the house where they do their laundry) is a great attention to detail!

- I think the setting is also really nice! Having it take place in a coastal town near the beach feels refreshing to me.

- Soundtrack amazing that is all 🫡

General Character Thoughts:

Steven:

At first, I really didn’t think much of Steven’s character I would have to admit 😭 I thought he was a sweet kid ofc, but I wasn’t sure where the show was gonna take his character and his development. That is, until I started to see more of the bigger picture and realize what direction they were going to take him. And now I have high hopes on how Steven is going to develop throughout the series just from all the expectations placed on him from his loved ones and the other gems. Your mother was amazing, she was everything. She gave up her form so you can be born. How do you deal with that? How do you cope with being the only one to not know her at all, your own mother? Can you fill the void she left behind? Will you falter when you can’t?

Also, having a mother-son version of this trope is one I haven’t seen much? Barely at all tbh, so it’s refreshing! I think it’s very sweet to portray a male character as very emotional and compassionate, and have him take after his mother.

Amethyst:

Amethyst is great I love her LMAO she’s so silly!!! On the surface, she seems to be the outward comic relief in the cast. But when you look more closely at her character and her reactions towards certain things, then it becomes clear that there is something deeper, the feeling of self-hate and resentment towards herself compared to Pearl and Garnet. I like how this is first hinted at in Tiger Millionaire, an episode about Amethyst’s hobby with wrestling. I think it shows that even in her own space, that self-hate will still find a way to manifest (it didn’t help that Pearl and Garnet showed up but yeah 😭)

Pearl:

Oh, Pearl. Where do I even start? There’s…a lot. I’m going to be honest, my perception of Pearl from what I remember is just “very gay lady” back when the show was airing LMAO which isn’t wrong necessarily. She is that, but she’s also a lot more than that. Pearl is tragic. She is a character who continues to grieve because of her closeness and her love towards Rose. She can be a bit overbearing and critical at times with Steven, but it’s because she cares about him and wants him to grow. Ofc she loves him, that’s her son. But Pearl isn’t perfect. She’ll have outbursts, she’ll panic, she’ll slip back into the loss that continues to consume her and project it onto others. And it’s not healthy at all 😭 I am curious to see how her character will be in the later seasons, but for now she’s one of my faves! Absolutely love tragic gays who cannot move on 🫡

Also I just love how at first glance, she seems like the character to have the brain cell in the group, but then you realize episode after episode that nah, she’s just as insane as everyone else LMAO it’s so good (I believe in OCD Pearl too btw SO REAL)

Garnet:

AAAA I LOVE GARNET!!! I love how calm she is but also deadpan LMAO??? She’s so silly sometimes, it’s cute! I like how she’s the one to ground the whole team together, not wanting to underestimate Steven, but ofc, still being protective of him. There’s more we learn about her in Season 1B (which I’ve already seen by this point), so that’s why I don’t have a lot to comment on here. But she’s still pretty cool, especially with all the various hints towards her actually being a fusion!

Greg:

Greg is an interesting guy! I didn’t have many thoughts on him at first, but some episodes later in the season had made me rethink my initial thoughts on him. He’s clearly trying his best as a father, wanting to still connect and bond with Steven. And he’s also another character we see deal with the grief of losing Rose. I love how he has many parallels with Pearl because of this, with the way they deal with loss and also their personal relationship with Steven. I’m looking forward to seeing more of him and also more interactions between him and Pearl I think they would be funny DJDKFKF

Connie:

I LOVE CONNIE I LOVE HER SO MUCH!!! IDK MUCH ABOUT HER BUT SHES SO CUTE AND I LOVE HER AND STEVEN'S RELATIONSHIP! I do like how she’s written to be a bit of a weeb LMAO it’s very accurate for 12 yr old kids obsessed with anime. I can’t wait to see more of her in the main cast!!!

Rose Quartz:

Besides her sharing my name (which I already love lmao), I have heard many things about her character that have piqued my interest! From what I've seen, she's a character who haunts the narrative, always being mentioned in the other's words as a lasting memory, or just her own portrait in the house being displayed in the background during some scenes. I love how the writing continues to portray her like this, and us as the viewer are curious to learn just who she really was as a person. We know that she was important, that she led a rebellion against her own kind to protect the Earth, and that she meant a great deal to the Crystal Gems and Greg. But just who was Rose really? Behind everyone's fondness and memories of her? Is she really just the all-loving heroic sacrifice we're presented with?

It's funny, because we are a lot like Steven in a way. We are in the same shoes as him, where we learn alongside him in finding out more about is mother and what the kind of person she is behind everyone's rose-tinted glasses. It's a really neat touch that helps connect the viewer to Steven as both a protagonist and a character

Episode Breakdowns (very brief):

Gem Glow:

• I think this is a decent introduction episode that lays out the characters and initial dynamics in the show! The Crystal Gems fight but they don’t want Steven to get hurt, but Steven ends up helping in his own way and starts using his powers as a result. I don’t have much else to say about it, but I think it’s neat!

⭐️ Laser Light Cannon:

• I like this one because you can start to see Rose haunt the narrative, and also the implications that are shown in the episode: the main one being that the cannons activate due to Greg’s phrase! I just love how much this implies how close her and Greg were that she made it so that the cannons activate because of something so silly, yet obviously meant something to her back then

⭐️ Cheeseburger Backpack:

• I stared this episode mainly because I absolutely love how it comes back in the best way possible in Season 1B. It is such good foreshadowing, and while the episode itself isn’t too noteworthy to me, I think viewing it as a mirror of the other episode that calls back to it makes it so much more interesting

Together Breakfast:

• I don’t think there’s much to note in this episode, other than it’s a characterization moment for Steven. It shows how much he sees the gems as his family, and how he wants them all to be together. It’s sweet!

Frybo:

• …I have nothing to say other than…yeah, nightmare fuel 👍

Cat Fingers:

• Okay lowkey this episode disturbed me a bit while I was watching KJDFDFKL 😭 I did not find the cat fingers cute, but I do like how this showed Steven’s ability to shapeshift! We’re starting to see Steven be able to wield some of the abilities the Crystal Gems have too!

⭐️ Bubble Buddies:

• Connie’s first appearance!!! I love it so much, the fact that they had met each other before and Steven was waiting to see her again and return her bracelet, how Connie also paid attention to him too! I love that little backstory they have together before they officially meet

Serious Steven:

• Another characterization one for Steven! Him wanting to help the gems no matter what, and I like how this episode kinda parallels the first episode a bit? Instead of being childish here like in the first episode, we see Steven be more serious, but he still helps them in his own way. Also this had an interesting frame showing a mural with presumably Rose Quartz fighting? Very curious indeed…

⭐️ Tiger Millionaire:

• This is where we see Amethyst’s self-esteem issues at the forefront. Seeing Amethyst’s and Steven’s relationship be expanded upon was nice too. We see one of Steven’s core traits with wanting to make everyone happy. He wants to continue accompanying Amethyst in her wrestling hobby and even uses a made up back story for Amethyst’s wrestler persona to help people understand her better. In relation, we see that Amethyst takes pride and confidence in wrestling because she’s good at it. It gives her something meaningful to her existence. So overall, I think this episode does a good job with characterizing the both of them

Steven's Lion:

• Lion’s first appearance! I love how he’s just…not explained LMAO he’s a pink lion and he’s chilling, and it’s obvious with his connection to Rose because of his pink color scheme

Arcade Mania:

• I like how this episode focuses on Garnet’s competitive side, as well as showing her 3rd eye under her visor. It’s silly, especially with the rhythm game (why did they name it that…), but it’s cool that it showed how Garnet is an important member on the team and seeing Pearl and Amethyst rely on her too. Also her relationship with Steven as well and how determined he was to snap her out of the game was sweet

⭐️ Giant Woman:

• OPAL FIRST APPEARANCE ALSO PEARL AND AMETHYST BEING GAY AF WHEN OPAL FIRST TALKED I THINK I DIED AND CAME BACK TO LIFE 🪦 but seriously, I like how we see fusion for the first time and they make a cool point that many fusions are their own person, and they take the best aspects of said gems and have them be in balance together. Very cool fr!!!

⭐️ So Many Birthdays:

• They went the existential crisis route omg 😭 but besides how dark this episode is, I do like how we see the gems care for Steven a lot. It also emphasizes the point of Steven’s powers being heavily influenced by his emotions!

⭐️ Lars and the Cool Kids:

• It’s a Lars episode and it exists, but the main thing I loved about it was towards the end. It had such a great moment with Steven standing up for himself and his mother, but it was also a bit heartbreaking too? Steven never met his mother, but he still believes in and realizes how much she cared for living beings. He will stand up for her no matter what because he doesn’t have anything to doubt her on, only what he’s heard from the others. I do wonder if this will be forshadowing later on when Steven learns something less…positive about Rose he can’t stand to believe as the truth

Onion Trade:

• This one is funny LMAOOO I HOPE THAT ONION CONTINUES TO BURN DOWN BEACH CITY

⭐️ Steven the Sword Fighter:

• Another dark one with Pearl literally getting stabbed in front of Steven. Along with the Tiger Millionaire and Arcade Mania, this one is my favorite among the episodes showing the relationship between the gems and Steven! Having him try to deal with the hologram Pearl while the real Pearl isn’t around really showed how much Steven has grown as a person. He’s tying to be more responsible and mature without Pearl around, which I think is a great character moment for him

Lion 2: The Movie:

• I like how this episode both develops Steven and Connie’s relationship (they’re silly kids who both think that the other doesn’t want to hang out with them but Connie provides normalcy for Steven, while Steven provides excitement for Connie. They both accept each other is the main thing that I love about their relationship), as well as whatever tf is going on with Lion DKDKDK it becomes even more clear now that he was Rose’s lion with the training temple they go to (love how this also comes back too). Also COOL SWORD

Beach Party:

• A silly one! This one is more of my favorites among the episodes that focus on the Beach City residents. It doesn’t get too bogged down with silliness, but it still focuses on character interactions between the gems and the residents! It’s overall very funny <3

⭐️ Rose’s Room:

• Rose first voice appearance! In the form of a whale LMAO I couldn’t imagine when this episode first aired and people lose their shit when this happened. It’s cool to get a glimpse into how Rose’s room works, that it gives anything Steven wants, but whatever it creates is still imperfect

Coach Steven:

• Sugilite first appearance! I cannot believe Nicki Minaj voiced her 😭 also I do like how it touched upon Pearl’s insecurities. “I’m not strong enough to do anything” THATS SUS PEARL WHAT HAVE YOU BEEN THROUGH WHY IS THAT SOMETHING YOU BLAME YOURSELF FOR??? I NEED TO KNOW MORE

Joking Victim:

• Lars and Sadie are cool ig??? I mean Sadie is cool, Lars is…there LMAO but it’s interesting to see more of their dynamic. I assume they’re a popular ship in the fandom, and I think Lars in his own way can be sweet at times. But in general, I just think that Sadie deserves so much better 💀

Steven and the Stevens:

• Very convoluted episode fr 😭 it doesn’t make much sense to be canon either? I feel like if the gems had access to a time travel artifact thing, they would’ve already used it a long time ago. I’ve also been told this doesn’t come up again, unless it’s with Steven recounting his trauma during this episode, so idk it really doesn’t make much sense, besides it being another silly episode

It’s nice though how this episode hints at the season finale by showing the desert created by Lapis in Mirror Gem in the background! Very cool detail there

Monster Buddies:

• We start to see more of the corrupted gems and learn about them. This one also highlights Steven’s overall kind and compassionate nature that he’s willing to extend to corrupted gems, seeing their humanity beyond the corruption. It’s another reflection of how his mother acted before. Also he’s able to bubble gems now and becoming more and more like his mother

An Indirect Kiss:

• An interesting way to show that Steven has his mother’s healing powers? 😭 was not expecting it to be through his spit DJDKDLDL the title is clever for that. I also like how it subverts our expectations (as well as the gems’ expectations) that Steven has the exact powers his mother did

⭐️ Mirror Gem:

• Lapis first appearance! I love they just casually show that Steven hasn't attended school 😭 it's kinda sad in a way? Like ofc we see Pearl try her best with teaching him, but it still highlights the differences between Steven and the other kids. He still doesn't have the most normal life when it comes to being 12 and not sharing experiences other kids his age have gone through.

⭐️ Ocean Gem:

• The season finale! I loved it a lot. Mainly because of how they start to set up some doubts regarding the Crystal Gems and their motivations. Lapis obviously doesn't like them and tells Steven to not trust them. She says they "never cared about the other gems, only Earth", so it leaves the viewer wondering if what Lapis is saying is true or not. But it also reinforces the point that they gems have been fighting for Earth, in the name of Rose Quartz and her mission. In contrast, Lapis only wants to go back "home", not seeing the beauty in Earth like they do. She's a good foil to the crystal gems (I would also say she parallels Pearl in a way because they both want to go back home, but Lapis follows her own ideals and wants to be set free, while Pearl's takes on Rose's ideals as her own and follows them to the end).

BUT YEAH THIS HAS GONE ON LONG ENOUGH SO COOL SEASON I LIKE HOW IT'S SETTING UP A BUNCH OF THINGS FOR LATER STUFF AND IT'S SILLY AND HAS ITS SERIOUS MOMENTS TOO!!! I think the show towards the end started to become more grounded on what it was going to do, so I like that! I can't wait to start my review of Season 1B fr 🫡

#THIS IS VERY LONG IF ANYONE DECIDES TO READ THIS YOU DONT NEED TO READ ALL OF IT FR 😭#also I'm not including Lapis in this review since I wanted to leave her for the next one where we see more of her!#steven universe #rose watches su #my posts

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trlvsn · 2 years ago

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I want to state I don't hate Kristoph or anything, I think I just get irritated sometimes at the attention the male characters in ace attorney get. I love Kristoph as a character and I've drawn and written about him a lot because he's cool! I just wish more people could give the leniency to female characters that they gave male ones. and Dahlia n Kristoph are good examples of similar characters for me.

why people should try to give Dahlia Hawthorne a chance (imagine this has been presented like a PowerPoint)

- she's so fucking funny first of all. fail girl of all time.

- literally got roasted so hard she went to hell

- so so much potential in her character

- Capcom mishandled her because they hate women but we don't have to hate women as well

- she killed a pedo, and someone who likes Britain (girl win!)

- she technically stopped Godot from his coffee addiction with an.. intervention. and it worked for a few years. to be polite.

- a woman

- a lesbian

- transgender

- her backstory is actually there even if it's a mess. unlike other poison loving gay ass characters.. (THIS IS A JOKE PEOPLE PLS DONT HATE ME I'M BEING SILLY N JESTFUL!)

- since her backstory and character is a mess you can just interpret her however u want and ur right!

- Capcom genuinely wrote her character while hating her and forgot that she was a child when Terry Fawkes "dated her" and that she was even YOUNGER when she apparently manipulated her father into dropping off Iris and abandoning her at a temple?? like you were so right for pointing this one out.

- It really feels like the narrative hates her more than it likes being a good story and smooth ride. It just wants to demonise her over and over again than write an impactful journey of a character becoming filled with hatred and jealousy.

- my femcel queen

- objectively the funniest character and also the most tragic (to me so actually not at all objective but but but)

- really good showing of how even though she was so distant from the Fey family and her bio mother, she still suffered due to their family's generational trauma and baggage.

- cool design!!!!!!!!!!

- incredibly underrated for the final villain of the ace attorney trilogy. Like other villains in ace attorney are cool and all but pls pls pls I know she's not a twink in a homoerotic relationship but she's so cool..

I think Dahlia Hawthorne could be really interesting if people gave her a chance and I really wish they would because as a person or someone who is seen as a girl a lot and demonised a bit due to my uh.. issues.. I find myself relating to parts of her character. Also evil women go fucking crazy, love em. This also kind of goes for Iris as well, she doesn't... really ever get talked about outside of her relationship with Phoenix n that's in part fault of the fandom AND Capcom (my sworn enemies.)

Anyway thanks for listening - or well reading! :3

anon while we have vastly different interpretations of her character you are so incredibly correct in the general message of it all. like..you are correct with every part of this obviously it's just the matter of me having a different approach, but people seeing her as someone only tied to phoenix is so real and true. what capcom did was make dahlia a manic pixie nightmare girl (a female character created solely for the development of the male lead but in an evil way this time) and tbh we need to reject those behaviors and come up with cool shit for her

actually that manic pixie nightmare girl thing was so smart of me to say. i love myself i'm the smartest girlboy alive. you are also a genius anon honestly go off with this?? if i were you i would already be creating art and unhinged essay posts about this whole thing

#love this blog. so many smart people. including me i'm amazing #raysanswers #tw grooming

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lycanlovingvampyre · 2 years ago

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MAG 114 Relisten

Activity on my first listen: cutting apples

Ah yes, Anya Villette. Very close to Anna Willett (or Anne, or Annie...)

Original statement given April 22nd, 2009. Hm. There are some continuity problems regarding Hill Top Road, which also very well may be canon as we can speculate from this statement here. Ivo Lensik's statement (MAG 8) took place in November 2006. Father Burroughs' experience however happened in 2009. No mention about the month I think, but he says in his statement, that it was chilly in 105 Hill Top Road because it didn't have any windows yet due to still being under construction.

"I should know this place, I think. I used to go to the Tate a lot when I lived in London, and I, I passed the building, but…" I've never been to London so I have no idea about this... But... So Google maps says the Chelsea area is further to the west than Millbank. Yet, the Chelsea College of Art & Design is also in Millbank, which we now know Jonny has envisioned for the looks of the Magnus Institute. How?? Why is that stuff called Chelsea when it's not in Chelsea? Sasha implied the Institute is in Chelsea with her "I love the Institute’s building, of course, it’s beautiful, but from a money point of view, I really wish it wasn’t in Chelsea." But Oliver said "All I know for sure is that I realised after some time that the red light was leading me towards Vauxhall and the Thames." and Vauxhall in turn is across the Thames to Millbank! Whyyyy? Is it just some... marketing bullshit? Does Chelsea have a better reputation? (Our neighboring town does that shit *grrml* Calling everything "[river name] valley" when they are outside the mountains and are just flatlands with no valley at all! The river barely brushes them. But I guess it sounds better than "flat fields".)

Movement in the dust sheets for the furniture, the tree with eight branches that apparently makes you have visions... The Web already had a bit of a grip in this world beyond the crack.

"Obviously it was my decision." Was it?

There is again a underlying sociocritical theme. This sense of duty to go all in when it comes to tasks in our jobs. Anya Villette checking the cupboard, even if it wasn't included. Checking the basement, even if there was no word about one. This is something that as been stewing over the course of generations now. Difference is, now the wages are so low, you can barely live with just that. So why go that far for our job if we're not paid adequately?

Interesting to see that there are versions of some of Anya's friends in this world. How? How do they know her if she doesn't exist in this world? Is this also some mind/reality fuckery by the Fears? To spread even more terror?

JON: "Interesting. I’m not really sure what to do with this one. Martin brought it up, said he’d found one that related back to Hill Top Road" Web!Martin!

Tim and Jon just spitting poison at each other between the lines...

JON: "And h– I would like to hear how you’ve been doing." Still, Jon is considerate to not ask any questions. No questions, no accidental compulsion.

TIM: “Nothing with that thing here, no.” Is that the “Not with that thong” blooper? xD

JON: "hat do you think is listening?" TIM: "What?" JON: [Strongly] "What do you think is listening to the tapes?" TIM: "Don’t do that." JON: "Sorry." TIM: "Don’t!" JON: "Sorry, I didn’t –" Aaand it still happened though, and Jon knows it's wrong, the way be immediately backpedals...

TIM: "And you know what I think. It’s that… the thing that runs the Institute. “The Watcher” or “The Eye” or whatever." JON: "I dis… I disagree. This whole place is a temple to The Eye, Tim. I don’t think the tape recorders make any difference." TIM: [Viciously] "Elias, then." JON: "In that case we’ll stick to talking about things he already knows." TIM: "Why are you so set on having it running?" THAT is an interesting conversation to have directly following a Web statement.

TIM: "So why don’t you ‘Archivist’ me, then? Just pull it straight out." JON: "Because I don’t want to. I am not your enemy, Tim." TIM: [Dismissively] "Like that matters. These things aren’t human. It’s… instinct. You can’t not." JON: [Softly] "I’m still me, Tim." [TIM HUFFS] "I’m still me." Arrr, there is so much emotion in these four lines. Jon still has to come to terms with what's happening to him, questioning his own "humanity". People, he doesn't know, already thrown the "not human" card at him and that is one thing. But Tim doing it audibly hurt him.

TIM: "No. How can I be sure who they are? You know how long that thing pretended to be Sasha?" JON: (BACKGROUND) "Oh… Oh god." TIM: "And I had no idea? I knew Sasha for years, we… I don’t know Martin as well as I knew her. I barely know what Melanie and Basira look like. Or that weird murder-cop. How the hell am I supposed to be sure of any of them?" I was wondering why Tim was so adamant on hating Jon. Because it seemed like he was long past the point of hating him for the stalking, which was totally valid. But Jon's hardly at fault for anything that has happened in the Archives. He asked Tim to transfer to the Archives, but usually a transfer also requires a "yes" from the questioned party. Even if not (which I have only encountered in public service, but other countries have other laws...), Jon had no idea what was going on in the Archives. But Tim just not being able to stand Jon (or Martin. I suppose he kinda gives a flying fuck about the others) because it reminds him how he didn't recognize his best friend being killed and replaced it so understandable. And I'm not even speaking of the paranoia this has led Tim into...

JON: "That’s not fair! Sometimes I was kidnapped." TIM: "Which is not a good look for a spy, is it?" The joke this scene definitely needed.

Icarus, the one who flew too close to the sun...

DAISY: "How long have you had that shirt?" [...] JON: "Uh, A-America. I had to borrow it, there was… there was blood." Heheh, love TMA for its vague clothing descriptions!

@a-mag-a-day

#a-mag-a-day #mag 114 #tma #tma spoilers

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burnwater13 · 2 years ago

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Finally! Someone had told the Mandalorian Bounty Hunter his name. Grogu. That’s right. Grogu. It was a name. Like Ahsoka was a name or Djarin was a name or Peli was a name.

It’s not like Grogu had picked it for himself. He hadn’t. It was just the name he was called at the Jedi Temple. He didn’t know why they had called him that or who had named him. No one he knew admitted to being the one who did that.

But if you said it out loud, he would turn his head and ask ‘What?’. It got his attention. That’s what names were for, right? To get your attention. When Din Djarin finally said Grogu’s name, ‘Grogu?’, Grogu had been surprised and grateful and had paid attention to the Mandalorian. Which, as it turned out, was just what Din Djarin had wanted.

Yup, the Mandalorian liked that power. The ability to say a word and capture Grogu’s complete attention. There weren’t many other ways to do that to people. The Mandalorian had found ‘Hey, kid’ less than satisfactory because Grogu always assumed Din Djarin had been talking to someone else.

But now that he knew Grogu’s name, just who was being summoned, or scolded, or teased was no longer a mystery. It was the owner of that name, Grogu.

Even the Imps and their collaborators didn’t know his name. They were the ones who called him ‘The Child’, like that was going to be specific enough. Although, who knows, maybe in Gal Basic ‘The Child’ meant ‘little green guy who could use the Force but wouldn’t unless he really liked you or really disliked you’. Gal Basic was strange that way.

The other strange thing was that lots of people seemed to have more than one name. After all, the Mandalorian wasn’t just Din or Djarin. Nope. He was both. Din Djarin. Like Peli was Peli Motto and Ahsoka was Ahsoka Tano. Even the Imps had two names, like Moff Gideon or Stormtrooper FN-2187.

Grogu wondered why that happened. Did people just decide on a second name? Did their parents decide? Was it a governmental action? He could see the Empire really liking the ability to make people carry a name of their choosing, you know, since names had power.

Look at all the Darths for example. Darth Sidious. Darth Vader. Darth Maul. Darth Tyranus. Darth Bane, who started the whole thing. They weren’t brothers, or children, or family. So the name didn’t tell you anything about them really, except to cross the street if you heard anyone say ‘Uh, oh! Here comes Darth [insert name here]!’ It was about the power.

Grogu wondered if he actually needed to learn to speak in Gal Basic now. Just to balance the power out with the Mandalorian. It seemed like the thing to do. If he could say Din or Djarin or Mando… he just might get the tall guy’s attention when he actually wanted it. That would definitely change their working dynamic.

“Din, want frogs!”

“Djarin, want sleep.”

“Hey Mando when are we going to visit Greef Karga again? I miss IG-11!”

He could just imagine the Mandalorian’s face if he learned how to say any of that stuff. He had to imagine it since Din Djarin, Mandalorian Bounty Hunter, was wearing his helmet all the time again. Which reminded Grogu that he didn’t know the Armorer’s name. Did she even have one? Or was ‘Armorer’ like ‘Grogu’? Just a singular name that covered the whole territory of the person? Maybe.

In which case, maybe Grogu meant something like Armorer did. It was a job. Or a skill set. Perhaps he was called Grogu because he was strong with the Force? Then anyone else strong with the Force would be called Grogu… nope. That didn’t work. Lots of other people had been strong with the Force without being called ‘Grogu’.

It was also possible that the Jedi had run out of other names for their younglings and had called him Grogu because it was the last name left. He’d never heard of there being two Jedi with the same name. No Master Obi-Wan Kenobi, one and Master Obi-Wan Kenobi, two. Or prime, or whatever other designator would be needed to prevent confusion.

Now he wondered how that worked across the galaxy. There were a lot of people. Did folks just have letters and a bunch of numbers appended to them so you would know the difference? That didn’t even seem real.

Nope. Grogu liked his name and would keep it. Maybe someday he would be known as Grogu Mando, because he was a Mandalorian now. But until then, Grogu was just fine.

#the mandalorian #grogu #din darjin #calendar prompt a day

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foxingpeculiar · 7 months ago

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FF7 R&R: I have completed all world intel for and am about to depart Cosmo Canyon at (what I assume is) the end of Chapter 10 of Rebirth.

Hoo boy, this game just keeps on going, doesn't it? My hope was to finish it this "weekend" (Wed/Thu are my days off), but man, I dunno. I've got 65 hours in this thing already and, what, four more chapters to go? I'm guessing one more big region around Nibelheim (the moogle in CC said there was one more moogle store, so that would track) and then we enter a kind of endgame phase, but we'll see. But they're already talking about heading to Temple of the Ancients, and I imagine that whole bit will take a couple of chapters, so I'm still guessing this entry will end around where Disc 1 of the original did.

As a whole, so far, I'm enjoying myself overall, but I have 2 complaints that keep it from being a total 10/10:

1) The minigames are just getting out of hand at this point. The second and third chocobo flying courses took FOREVER to even clear just the basic rank (fuck trying to S-tier that, although I did do it on the first one cos I wanted the weapon for Yuffie). And then there's the whole battle robots thing, which is like basically Fort Condor, but a different shape and somehow more complicated (I don't really understand how the "programming" part works because I don't care at this point). I see what you're trying to do, but... damn, chill. How deep are we in this thing and you're still throwing new stuff at me? Focus on a few good ones. Like Queensblood. That rules.

2) The first few regions weren't that bad, but both Gongaga and Cosmo Canyon were a fucking NIGHTMARE to navigate in an "okay, I know where I have to go, but have no idea how to get there" kind of way. Like the sort of thing where I'm poking around for 20 minutes and getting irritated so I just look up a guide so I can finally check this box off my list and move on. I like the complexity of the level design, I think it's just some of the open-world tendencies fighting that. Either let me discover things, or give me tools to help me figure out how to access your data points without getting lost and pissed off about it. The game is long enough already.

Other than that, though, I'm still very much into it.

Okay, so the Gongaga sequence was fun. I like how we did a boys' trip/girls' trip split for the journey to the reactor. Scarlett remains an absolute bitch. (Please tell me they're gonna keep the slap fight between her and Tifa in part 3--I wanna see how they update that).

Tifa falling into the lifestream was an interesting moment that I'm 95% sure didn't happen in the original. But I like the follow through they do with that when she meets with the planetologists in Cosmo Canyon and has her little "sharing circle" moment about it. You can tell that experience changed something for her. Made the whole quest more personally spiritual. Like she's been witness to a lot of fucked up shit by this point in her life, but now there's some deeper connection to the bigger picture of it all. And even before Cosmo Canyon, you get a sense of her processing that in the scene she has with Cloud after she wakes up.

I'm also interested by the apparent dueling whispers that really kind of hit home in that bit--they're fighting within the soul of the planet. And Sephiroth seems to be associated with the black ones, which are the ones trying to maintain the original story track, it seems like. The lighter ones are the ones that saved Biggs and Zack in the alternate timeline, so what's the significance of that? CAN the story actually be changed, or are they just baiting me? I don't know. What's the significance of Aerith feeling Zack's hand in the water on the way to the Gi Village? What's the relationship between these timelines, exactly? Is one of them a dream? Which one? These are the questions I'm asking myself at this point.

We got a little more of Cissnei--the party found out she's basically still a Turk (which Cait/Reeve obviously already knew), but she's on our side. Chadley's apparent crush on her is kind of cute, also.

And then there's Cid. And I love the way he's characterized in the one encounter I've had with him so far. Seeing the Tiny Bronco gave me some feels, NGL. But like... are we gonna do Rocket Town? At first, I thought he was going to join the party right there and they were going to elide that bit, but that didn't happen, so we still might. (I'm curious to see how Shera is characterized, if we do.)

What's Hojo doing to Roche? Obviously something Jenova related, but like... that doesn't bode well.

I love Nanaki breaking into his real voice as soon as he sees people from home (and Tifa being weirded out by how old he actually is). Bugenhagen's lab was fucking sweet--I wanna hang out there. But also... okay, I'm gonna admit something here. I never realized he was riding around on a floating materia. I always thought he just had a big ass and no legs and could fly for no adequately explained reason. PS1 graphics, okay? So this version makes a lot more sense. And I like that he's initially so dismissive of the party (Tifa in particular) but then--without having to be confronted about it--comes around and admits he was wrong.

The River of Lights scene was sweet. Aerith's whole speech and everything.

Okay, so the Gi Cave was cool, but the expanded explanation of who the Gi are and what they want is fascinating. Gi Nattak talks! (Also, definitely tried the Phoenix Down trick on him and it didn't work--but the vending machine right before him gives you a discounted Phoenix Down, so they knew I was gonna try). But okay--their whole connection to the Black Materia I don't remember from the original (either it wasn't there, or wasn't explained very much, I don't think), but I buy it. It does raise the question for me, though, if they didn't come from the lifestream, where DID they come from? Are they alien, like Jenova? Interdimensional like Gilgamesh? What's the deal there?

Speaking of Gilgamesh... man, I'm really curious what that's building to. Cos it's a game-long arc, apparently. And it's just... odd.

I have lots of random notes, moments that stood out from this section, but I'm focusing more on the bigger picture here. But yeah, closing in on it--we'll see how far I get tomorrow.

Then it's time to dip back into Elden Ring and work my way toward the DLC (which I hear is absofuckinglutely brutal and I'm excited to be basically dominated by it).

#personal #video games #ff7 rebirth #ff7 rebirth spoilers

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countess-strahd · 1 year ago

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I changed a lot from canon and ended up making it really hard on myself. I recommend looking at MandyMod's guides on reddit, and watching Lunch Break Hero's videos on youtube. (I think the vids are also all available as articles, which is my preferred version, but some might only be in one format.) Keep in mind that you don't have to go with their changes, but you should see what they think, as they're both good at developping the setting further and have some valuable input.

If you're struggling with anything, the subreddit does have some valuable input, so search for the location or character and see what other DMs think. That usually helps me resolve things before they become a problem, like the Yesterhill fight.

Don't get sucked into the trap of making Strahd too difficult. He's incredibly powerful within Ravenloft, but a lot of that power comes from his minions. Your party shouldn't be able to beat Strahd til the very end, not because he's CR 27 or whateber the highest CR statsheet is these days, but because they've taken out the brides, Rahadin, and others of Strahd's allies.

One thing I screwed up on what making the Dark Powers too present in the plot. It's confusing for my players, and they throw a lot of stuff out of whack. Stick to having the vestiges in their amber sarcophagi be trapped in the Amber Temple. If you want to tempt or corrupt your PCs, with your players' consent ofc, my players REALLY like the creepy dreams where shadowy figures come talk to them. Could be a fun route if they have to piece together what's happening from rumors and such. (Where I got stuck is that one PC is a warlock of a powerful vestige/dark power from the temple, so I thought having other warlocks around like Kasimir and Rahadin would be cool. It is not. I fucked up so bad. The lore is so complicated.)

Another mistake I made was making the elves and vistani wayyy too closely tied together. Try and keep them distinct from each other as oppressed minorities within Barovia, and let the Barovian villages feel distinct culturally, as well. No two groups are the same. A way to do this is accents, but also description. Vallaki looks totally different from Barovia, Krezk, the elf village and the Vistani camp, etc. Also, they can be kinda emoty. Barovia has a terrifying population decline, and Vallaki and Krezk are no better. The elves are dying slowly but surely. The Vistani, meanwhile, have no lack of children and young folk. This should help them all feel separate. (Related note: I named the elf/vistani camp outside Vallaki "Avenir" for simplicity. Having Ez be from there, and be the only young person or maybe the only woman besides Arabelle the little girl, might add to the off vibes that PCs should sense here.)

Also: make Strahd the most manipulative, frighteningly in control, possessive, seductive, puppetmaster-y piece of shit you can conceive of. Strahd's spies are everywhere, and the PCs should pick up on that quickly for maximum horror vibes. Have these spies lie, manipulate, and subtly threaten. They should be nervous around animals, strangers, NPCs who are too helpful or know more than expected, and each other.

On the other hand, having Ireena work as a DMPC has been a godsend. DON'T rob players of choice, but being able to say "I don't think we should go there... at least not without a plan." is so damn useful in a campaign designed to kill your PCs if they screw up! She knows the valley despite never seeing much of it, can talk shop with burgomasters and others because of her upbringing, and is a sword-wielding badass. Ireena is willing to die for Barovia, or become undead, if it would save others. This makes her a fantastic NPC ally.

Allies: pick ahead of time. Rig the whole tarokka reading, honestly. Don't give your players a terrible ally like I did. Van Richten, Ez, and Ismark are very good choices. You could even say it's "the vampire hunter" and lead them to think it's RvR or Ez, only to have it turn out to be the other one. If you want, you can skip the reading entirely and just give them plot suggestions from Eva. As in, you might be able to find allies in Vallaki, Argynvostholt survivors, or the Winery. Something like that gives them direction but allows you to mix it up behind the scenes, where necessary. (Might be biased bc my reading fucked up my game, but that was my own damn fault lol)

It's a fun campaign. Don't worry too much about details and you'll be just fine. Good luck :-)

hi dnd tumblr 😎 i'm beginning to plan my curse of strahd campaign for my group, and here i am wondering. pondering. considering, even.

dms, is there something in strahd you would have changed/removed/did end up changing?

tips? tricks?

i myself have never played (which is so sad) but i'm determined to run it

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nevertheless-moving · 4 years ago

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Imagine Luke and Leia ending up in the clone wars era but all of their force abilities are “what the actual fuck?” levels of bullshit, and neither of them ever realized that the things they could do with the force were considered extremely high level techniques.

that is one of my FAVORITE things to imagine yes. To me this is less about ‘Skywalker bullshit’ (though there is some of that) and more about the training they (didn’t) receive.

The high-Midi-chlorians-actual-descendents-of-the-force thing makes it easier to tap into the force, makes it more possible to do so without accidentally exhausting yourself. But, in universe, under the right circumstances and with the properly channeled belief anyone can do anything. That’s why Palpatine had to make the galaxy want an empire, why his first strategy was misdirection and his top priority was crushing hope. Chirrut was supposedly force-null and he walked through an army. Han navigated that astroid field because he had to. The force is everywhere.

In an amusing but possibly unintended turn of events, 6-12 weeks of training in a swamp with an elderly frog who only talks in riddles without ever being exposed to Jedi culture except as a myth is actually IDEAL if you’re looking to maximize a Jedi’s raw strength. Most Jedi training that we see in the prequels is explicitly designed to put the breaks on a force-users raw power (for honestly very valid reasons). Channeling all violence through a single weapon that will start screaming if you get too violent, training to use it defensively, is definitely the soft-ball alternative to just squashing people like meatballs.

Meditating, wearing beige, the code, shunning attachments, all that stuff is built around making sure force users never run above first or second gear even in stressful situations (again valid, when you run your jedi in the red sometimes they become murder monsters). The downside of this is that when they’re forced to maintain that placid pace for years at a time (i.e: prolonged war), they’re much more likely to burn out.

When Yoda told Luke do or do not, told him a luminous being was he, told him size matters not, the amazing thing isn’t that Luke believed him. That was karking objectively provable. Yoda lifted a spaceship, so now Luke knows he can too if he just thinks he can. So he does. Vader and Palpatine conquered a galaxy. Luke believes he can stop worlds, crush armies, conquer planets and so he can.

The incredible thing about Luke is what he doesn’t do despite being tapped into the Force utterly free of mental restraint. Luke’s op character trait is his compassion, not his strength.

I assume at some point Luke puts Leia through a similar 2 month meditation class where he convinces her that her only limitations are the ones she imposes on herself. She has a complete meltdown when she realizes that she actually could have boiled Tarkin alive with her mind and saved Alderann. This causes a volcano to go off, devastating the ecology of a small moon. On the flight home, both of them slightly charred, she tells Luke that she wanted to focus on politics and didn’t really want to be a Jedi anyway. Luke nods quickly, supporting her decision, and resolves to seek out some Jedi texts about how to teach people they can do anything but also...maybe...not...anything.

And thus the Jedi order is reborn.

- - -

In the time travel version of this, it means that Luke is assuming that all of the Jedi are restraining themselves like he is. And they are, but they also aren’t, because their breaks are subconscious, built in since childhood, and have a lot of failsafes so even if they turn darkside they still restrain themselves pretty good (a la Dooku).

Leia is, again, less interested with the Jedi-specific aspects of the war (especially now that she doesn’t have to feel guilty about being one of the only people who can pick up that mantle) and more interested in the diplomatic side. Again, Palpatine can only succeed if the galaxy at large accepts this, and from where she’s standing they’re fucking moving in that direction. If being a Jedi is tapping into the mystical energy field that binds all living things together to channel it through one specific person in one specific place, then politics is manipulating that same power for a diffuse impact on as many people as possible.

This status-quo lasts until a major clone wars battle where Luke’s like ‘wait- the entire other side is sub-sentient droids? No living beings, and no droids with complex personality matrices? And they’re currently, actively killing living, sentient humans? Well kriff, come on! This is a no-brainer!’

Luke takes a deep breath. The air- it doesn’t disappear or anything- but it- it stops moving. It’s hard to explain...but breathing has an odd...resistance. The hair on the back of every clone’s neck stands up. Several get vaguely sea sick. One pukes a little. Plo Koon stumbles back, head ringing and afraid.

Luke Skywalker stands up and clenches his fists. 10,000 droids crumple like flimsi in the hands of a child. The battlefield is eerily quiet for a moment, then that imperceptible hum (which no one noticed until it stopped) fades and the air returns to its normal density. A few of the shinies start whooping, then the whole battalion is cheering.

Luke massages his temples, smiling wryly at Master Koon. “I guess I can see how that would get exhausting if you were doing it everyday.”

Plo Koon just stares.

#crunchbuttsteak #ask #star wars #nevertheless meta #luke skywalker #long post #my au #star wars au no 33 #unrestrained au

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mercy-burning · 3 years ago

Text

Honeybee

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!Reader Summary: While attending Seraphina's wedding, Y/N discovers that her crush on her best friend’s older brother hasn’t gone away after all these years. Category: SMUT (18+) Content: Strong language, alcohol consumption, fingering, penetrative/protected sex Word Count: 5.7k

MASTERLIST

NOTE: I know I promised a oneshot over the weekend, but I’m a messy, inconsistent bitch, so you get it a day late 😅🥰

———

Looking back, I was starting to wonder if Seraphina only got engaged and asked me to be her maid of honor just to witness my slow descent into a heaping puddle of lovesick mush.

Truly, it was pathetic.

Yeah, yeah, she was getting married because she loved her fiancé and whatever, obviously, but she was also using it as an excuse to try and get me to admit my feelings for her older brother. Feelings, I might add, that only surfaced when I was a middle schooler and went away once he went off to college.

Sure, I'd thought about him on occasion when he was inevitably brought up around Sera's house throughout the years, but that was it. I'd hardly say I was hard-core in love with him. And I was totally prepared to see him for the first time since our high school graduation.

At least, I thought I was.

And Seraphina—the little shit—knew it, too. The smirk on her face the moment we were all in the same room for the first time in ten years made me want to run and hide more than her brother's figure, right in front of me and hotter than ever.

I was mad. Not at Sera as much, because really there was nothing she could do about the fact that he was her brother, but I was mad at myself. Because how in the hell had it stood to reason that a man I actively didn't think about for a whole decade had this much of an effect on me after all this time?

Honestly? I blame the FBI.

If he'd done literally anything else with his life I probably could have made it. Well, not by much if we're being honest, but come on...

Where he'd been a bit nerdy and reserved as I knew him, the man in front of me had clearly changed. Not just physically, though that was also a pleasant surprise. He looked like he'd been through some shit... And he carried himself taller. There was a new air of confidence that perched on his shoulder and helped him along as he talked with old friends and family members at his sister's rehearsal dinner.

Spencer Reid was older and more experienced this time around, and somehow even more goddamn delicious...

I was a total wreck. And it was about to get a whole lot worse.

He was coming this way. Right for me. He'd noticed me staring at him all night, because I couldn't keep my shit together, and now I was absolutely doomed.

Guess it was a good thing I'd practically grown up with him and knew how to act outwardly.

Still, the moment he was up close and flashing me that little smile of his, I felt the pit of my stomach scream out loud, sending shockwaves through my bloodstream.

"Hey, Honeybee. It's been a while."

Fuck. That fucking nickname...

"Spencer... It has."

When we hugged briefly, I tried as hard as I could not to inhale his scent, knowing that not only was that pathetic and embarrassing, but also I'd never stop smelling it otherwise. I did take note, though, of how strong he was now. He wasn't a bodybuilder of any kind, but he was certainly less bony and more defined.

I had to hold back a whine as I felt him let go of me, because I didn't want to leave his warm embrace but also because I didn't think I could stand to look at his face anymore without losing any and all semblance of my cool.

Still, I let him release me, and even then he didn't go far. We only stood inches apart, and my whole body was practically numb at the proximity. It also didn't help that I had to tilt my head up to see his face— It made me feel extremely submissive, and I could already feel myself starting to shrink.

Whether he was amused at that or just at me in general, the feeling I got was the same.

"Sera tells me you've been busy..." He paused, seemingly searching for the right word, though I could tell he already had it on the tip of his tongue. "Modeling?"

I closed my eyes with a sigh. "It was one job for some obscure European magazine, no one in the country's probably ever heard of it... It's not that big of a deal."

Spencer huffed a laugh. "You sound embarrassed..."

How was I supposed to respond to that? If I lied and told him I wasn't embarrassed, he'd figure it out, and if I told him the truth? I'd still be screwed. Honestly, my best bet was changing the subject.

Though, maybe it wasn't— When I asked him about his travels for work, he ignored it and responded with, "Ah, so you are embarrassed."

"N— I am not!"

"You changed the subject so fast I barely had time to blink... There's nothing to be ashamed of, Honeybee, I don't know why you'd—"

"Look, dude, I'm not ashamed, and I'm certainly not changing the subject. We were on the subject of jobs. So there."

I was aware of how childish I sounded, but I stood my ground nonetheless. And thankfully Spencer seemed to let it go, though not without amplifying that amused sparkle in his eye.

"Okay... Well, I've got some more people to see, but, uh... I'll see you around. Maybe you can show me some of your work."

He didn't even give me time to protest. Though if he had, I was sure I wouldn't have been able to get any words out what with that goddamned face he had, twisted and sculpted into all these beautiful ways that were designed specifically to make me a blubbering hot mess.

I could only gather the courage to nod in response, though he'd turned his back and walked away by the time I got it out.

———

All things considered, I'd managed to avoid him for the majority of the wedding festivities. I focused all my energy on being happy to see my best friend get married, and likewise it seemed that Spencer was inclined to do the same.

He walked his sister down the aisle, and seeing them both so happy truly made my heart sing. To think I'd known them since we were all kids more or less, and now they were both successful, beautiful human beings... It warmed me to my core, and despite the other flames that stung my insides at seeing Spencer in his tux, thing were going swimmingly.

That being said, we were just about two hours into the reception, and there was absolutely nothing stopping me from begging Seraphina to put me out of my misery.

Except maybe pints upon pints of alcohol.

In hindsight, that may not have been a good idea, though. Because as much as the open bar had it benefits, it also hated me. It was mostly my fault, because I was stupid enough to forget that I get frisky when I'm drunk, but that didn't stop me from blaming the bartender for continuing to serve me.

I wasn't quite at the point of all-out inebriation, but I was definitely toeing the line between tipsy flirting and total disaster.

And when Spencer came over to ask me to dance, I knew I was doomed.

I didn't find myself caring about what he was saying, only the fact that he was there, in front of me, putting his hands on me and breathing in the same air that I was putting out. My entire body buzzed, and while I would have panicked otherwise, my tipsy brain welcomed the tingle and made me a bit bolder.

"You enjoying yourself tonight?" he asked, like he couldn't already tell that I was having the time of my life.

"No way. You suck at dancing." The joke rolled off my tongue with ease, a product of years spent teasing him for countless things.

And just like all those times before, he rolled his eyes and then immediately flashed an affectionate smile all the same.

I should have stopped there, maybe tried to do something a bit more romantic like teach him how to dance... Placing his hands and fixing his posture, taking the time to gracefully have an excuse for exploring his body with my hands...

But romance took a backseat when I pressed myself in even closer to him and hummed just under his jawline. "Mmm, but I bet you're good at other things..."

I felt his hands grip my waist just a little tighter, and his throat visibly twitched. "How much have you had to drink, Honeybee?"

"Spencer," I whined, pressing my face into his neck. "Don't tell me you're turning me down, please..."

I could tell by the way he was touching me, his hands wavering and undecided, and the way his heartbeat thrummed loudly and quickly against my own that he wanted nothing more than to entertain my desires.

The thought made me quiver and press further into him. I kissed his jawline tenderly, silently begging him to whisk me away and finally make me his, but it broke my heart a little to feel him peel away from me.

When he looked into my eyes though, I swore the gleam in his own is what put me back together. It could have been the liquor swimming around in my body that made me feel lightheaded, but when Spencer lifted my chin with his fingers and looked me over, I knew that wasn't it. It was wholeheartedly, without a doubt, him.

"Tell you what... You get sobered up by the end of the night, and maybe I'll come find you."

I wanted to nod, but his gentle grip on my chin held me steady—At least until he glided his fingertips down my throat and over my shoulder. Then I downright slumped forward with a whine and a weak nod that seemed to make him smile.

"Thank you for the dance," he said earnestly, leaning forward to press the lightest of kisses to my temple.

Just like that he was gone, and I wanted him back almost immediately.

———

And so the night dragged on, and the longer I sobered up the more it dawned on me what the fuck just happened— What the fuck was going to happen, too, if I played my cards right.

It didn't help that I could practically feel Spencer's eyes on me the whole time. Probably to make sure I really wasn't drinking anymore, a fact that only made this feel more real.

On top of it all, I was starting to lose count of the amount of men here who were trying to buy me drinks. Even if the one man I really wanted tonight hadn't given me a deal, I still wouldn't have accepted them, if only for the pathetic fact that I would have been trying to catch his attention instead.

So much for trying to convince myself I wasn't in love with him...

Was that really what it was? It had to be, right?

Either way, I was determined to find out, and that meant declining every flirtatious offer to drink and dance.

Unfortunately, Seraphina seemed to notice, even on the one day in her entire life she shouldn't have been thinking about anyone but herself. "You're not having fun," she pouted, plopping down next to me and handing me a shot. "Have fun."

I laughed and set the tiny glass down on the table. "I am having fun, I'm just... tired. And being hungover tomorrow does not sound fun."

"Mmm," she responded, visibly suspicious.

I didn't really know what to say to her to convince her not to be though, so I grabbed her hand and smiled. "You're having fun though, right? 'Cause I will not hesitate to kick someone's ass if you're not."

With a bellowing laugh mildly tainted with the smell of champagne, Seraphina squeezed my hand and leaned in close. "I'm having the best time. I couldn't be happier."

"Well, good. You deserve it."

After a small moment of silent shared smiles, my best friend glanced over elsewhere and then back to me with that look in her eye that kind of scared me.

And her words were even scarier... "So, you talk to Spencer at all tonight?"

"Uh— Yeah... Briefly."

"Mhmm... Y'know, I saw you two dancing together earlier. You seemed reeeally close..."

There I was, getting defensive in front of a Reid sibling for the second time that night. And just like before, I was awful at being subtle. "Sera, stop it! It was just a dance..."

"Bullshit! He had his hands all over you, and he had that gross-ass, dreamy-ass look in his eye! He so wants to sleep with you!"

"Sera!" I gently shoved her and tried not to smile at the goofy smile she had plastered on her face.

"Am I wrong?"

"I... I don't..."

"Ha! I'm not wrong!"

The defeated look in my eye did nothing to disconfirm her story.

"So, what's stopping you from letting him?"

I went wide-eyed. "Se—You... You seriously would... You're okay with this? It doesn't... gross you out?"

There were a lot of things I could have seen Seraphina do in that moment, but pinching and yelling at me were not any of them. "Y/N! You idiot! I've been trying to get you two together for years! If I knew all it took was me getting married, I would have accepted Theo Decker's proposal..."

"Wa— In fifth grade? Sera, that wasn't—"

"I know, but you get what I mean! You two are so painfully attracted to each other, it physically hurts me. It's actually disgusting, but if it means there's a chance that you might get to be my sister? I say go for it."

I couldn't believe what I was hearing. "You... You really mean that?"

"What, you think I'd joke about that?"

Everything that she conveyed to me within the look in her eyes, her words, and the squeezing of her hand over mine told me she was sincere.

"I love you, you know," I told her just as sincerely.

Her smile was as radiant as ever, but the teasing tone in her voice was enough to make me scowl again. "Right back at'cha, Honeybee. Just do me a favor and don't tell me any details. I don't wanna know."

I stuck my tongue out at her, followed by a short shove. "Oh, and as soon as you get back from your honeymoon? I'm kicking your ass for telling him about that nude shoot I did for that magazine..."

She only grinned. "Why? I think I did you a favor..."

I rolled my eyes at her, but in the end, I guess she was right.

———

I shouldn't have been pacing. Really, it was pretty fucking embarrassing the way I walked in circles around my hotel room, waiting for a knock at the door or a text message on my phone, or something to let me know that Spencer had really meant what he said and was on his way to come find me.

I didn't have a single drink after we danced, and I swear to God, if he made me go through this entire night all nervous without the liquor to calm me down, for nothing? I was going to kill him tomorrow.

Later today... Whatever.

The point? I was well and truly ready to feel him taking up my personal space, and I was going to feel like a real idiot if I waited around and prepped and everything, only for him not to show. The funny thing was, it was almost two in the morning, and I would have stayed up until the sun rose for him.

Thank God he had the decency to save me the trouble.

A short two-rap knock on the door made me jump, but I ran at it full-speed, flinging the large wooden panel open and letting its momentum blow cool wind over my body. And I needed it, too.

Because standing right in front of me was Spencer Reid in all his semi-exhausted glory. His outfit was loosened, buttons undone and bowtie untied, hanging limp around his neck. His hair sat wild atop his head and a thin layer of sweat coated his skin. Maybe that last part sounded gross, but looking at him? It was anything but.

Especially when he flashed me that damned smirk. "Someone's eager..."

I tried not to sound as dumbfounded by his presence as I felt. "Well, you made me a good offer I couldn't refuse. Excuse me for being excited."

"And here I thought all this time you hated me, Honeybee..."

"That would be easier, wouldn't it?"

His grin transformed into a full-on beaming smile then, and it only made my skin feel warmer and my heart beat faster. I returned his smile with my own, so genuinely happy to see him again after all this time, and with the brightest show of happiness I'd ever seen.

Turns out, smiling like a lovesick idiot was all I was capable of.

"Are you... gonna let me in?"

The low suggestive tone in his voice had me springing into action, stepping back and allowing him the space to come in. And though he had plenty of room, Spencer still decided to brush his body over mine as he passed. His eyes bore into my own as he gently kicked the door shut and enveloped us in a dimness that came from cheap hotel lighting.

Still, I was unable to speak, and hardly able to even breathe, with each passing second.

And then, his hands were on my waist, pulling me to him with a softness that matched the whisper in his throat as he said, "C'mere..." Looking up at him then, his fingers burning holes through the thin fabric of my dress while he looked back down me, eyes swimming in tender desire... It almost didn't even feel real.

And it certainly didn't feel real when he leaned in, one of his hands coming up to touch my face while the other pressed me firmly against him.

The moment his lips touched mine, I was gone. I positively melted into him, so much so that it felt like I was just becoming a part of him entirely, losing myself in the moment and unwilling to let it go.

Even when he sighed against my lips and parted his own to kiss me deeper, I just followed suit and let him take the lead. We moved together as one, fluidly and with as much eagerness was possible. I'd wanted to get a taste of him for so long, and he obviously felt the same way, what with the thorough and precise exploring his tongue did with my own. It shot warmth throughout my whole being, and my legs threatened to buckle underneath me from how weak they felt.

Spencer seemed to understand what was happening to me, because as soon as I'd thought it, he was just as quick to literally sweep me off my feet, scooping me up bridal style and carrying me over to the large bed in the middle of the room.

"I know we're at a wedding and all, but geez," I laughed, watching as he laid me down gently and crawled over my body. "A little much?"

He only rolled his eyes. "Well, excuse me for trying to be romantic..."

"Mmm, I think you're just being an overachiever. As per usual."

That remark earned me a pinning of my wrists above my head, and the fire that erupted in my very core at my current position only cemented that this was very real.

Spencer grinned, his hips coming down to roll over mine teasingly. He spoke nice and slowly, his voice slicing through my soul like smooth butter. "Oh, Honeybee, I'll show you an overachiever..."

Once again I was rendered speechless. Not like I expected to be talking his ear off or anything, but words genuinely escaped me.

Luckily, Spencer didn't seem to mind. In fact, he knew exactly what to do next, and it made me even hungrier for him than ever before.

He captured my lips in another dizzying kiss, his hands still flexing over my wrists to keep them steady. I moaned softly and writhed against him, and though I would have liked to say that it was a conscious choice to coax him to give me more, really it was just me being unable to handle the fact that this was actually happening.

Actually, if not for the overwhelming and familiar scent of him, I would have thought I was only imagining it.

But alas, here he was in all his floral peppermint glory, grinding his hips down into mine and kissing me like I'd never been kissed before, driving me mad with each adept movement.

Thankfully he seemed to get as lost in the moment as I was, because he loosened my wrists in his grip, and I broke free, flying my hands in between us and down to his belt.

His lips pulled away from mine with a soft smack, a smile forming smugly upon them. "Have you no patience?"

As my fingers fumbled with the metal and leather, I pressed my nose to his and quickly pecked his mouth. "I thought we already established that I have no patience the moment I opened the door..."

"Fair... But still..."

Spencer grabbed my hands again, moving them to my sides and then hiking my dress up slowly. His skin was hot against my own, and it took everything I had not to break down begging for him.

And then he spoke again, his lips barely grazing mine as he did. "Teasing you is so much fun..."

I couldn't really explain what sound escaped me then, but it reminded me of a disgruntled animal, erupting from my throat and getting muffled the moment I took my hands and brought his face to mine. I kissed him fervently as his hands matched the intense nature of my affections— With every soft groan I gave him, he returned it with an inch higher up my leg, until eventually he was toying with the hem of my underwear.

Unable to take it anymore, I gave in and mumbled the most desperate plea I could think of. (Like I had to think that hard...)

"Spencer, please..."

I half expected him to tease me again, but this time I felt him tremble over my body. His fingers slipped under the satin of my underwear and he sighed into my mouth. "God, how could I ever say no to you..."

No sooner had the words left his mouth did he spread me apart with his fingertips, getting a feel for me and a broken sigh falling from his tongue and onto my own. I captured it and kissed him with as much precision as I could while under the influence of his hands working wonders.

Truly, his hands hand a magic of their own that should have been considered as an eighth Wonder of the World. They flexed in all the right places, splitting me open and caressing the most sensitive parts of me, simultaneously breaking me apart and putting me back together...

God, and those was only his hands...

The thought of what else he had waiting for me made me cry out into his mouth, though I'm sure it also had to do with the fact that his fingers were curling expertly inside me and summoning an orgasm that I knew would satisfy us both.

I almost cried out again when his lips left mine, but then they travelled to my neck and paid it the most glorious attention. The alternation of his fingers and his tongue on different spots of my body had me in shambles, and it took no longer than a few seconds to snap.

"Fuck, that's my girl," Spencer grumbled into my neck, helping me through my orgasm. "That's it, honey..."

What I wouldn't have given to hear him talk to me like that until the end of time... His words, their tone and praise seeping into my skin and bringing my soul to life... Coupled with his soft hands and his even softer breath fanning over my neck, I was just about ready to ask him to keep talking to me, to say my name and never stop.

He pulled away though, removing his hand from my lower half and bringing it up to his mouth, and I had the feeling my request wouldn't be a problem.

Spencer's eyes rolled back and his tongue gathered my arousal off his long, well-endowed fingers. And though I could hear his groan well and clear, I felt it more than anything. It reverberated through my body and brought me more to life in a way I never thought imaginable.

No one had ever made me feel that way with one single sound, and that's how I knew.

I thought I knew it from the start—from when we were growing up—that I wanted to be near him forever. But It was always just a silly dream, something I was never quite able to reach, and as I got older and we rarely saw each other, it got harder to even imagine anymore.

Now I didn't have to imagine.

Spencer Reid was right in front of me, touching me, tasting me, verbally praising me with sounds I'd only ever dreamed of...

I wanted him to have his moment, because I was positive he'd wanted this just as much as I did, but this sappy sort of revelation I was having made it nearly impossible to not be utterly wrapped up in him, and I wanted more.

So I wiggled and adjusted myself underneath him before grabbing his hand and placing it over my heart. His eyes widened softly at the sight of me, and I knew then that he was taking the time to memorize my face, and the image of his hand resting at my chest, right where my heart was encased beneath bones, flesh, and fabric.

"I could look at you forever," he whispered then.

I would have been ashamed to admit that I whimpered when he said it, but the way he looked at me afterwards made me feel the exact opposite.

He smiled, using his other hand to come up and touch my face. "You want it bad, don't you, Honeybee?"

I didn't even argue with him this time. My head nodded and my hands reached out to pull him closer. "I want you... More than I've ever wanted anything."

Before he leaned down to kiss me, I could have swore he looked like he was going to shed a tear. The duality of him, his ability to be all teasing and cocky one second and then reduced to a lovesick mess at just a few words from me the next, made my heart sing.

And it kept singing, a sweet, steady melody as Spencer kissed me and touched me like he meant it.

Only this time, he didn't pause or tease me with theatrics. He went straight for the kill, fetching a condom from his pants pocket and then sliding the material down, all while keeping me trapped under his embrace. I welcomed it naturally, humming happily into his neck and jawline and anywhere I could reach as he got us both fully undressed and situated, until finally he had the condom on and his hands rested nicely on either side of my head.

"Promise not to sting me?"

I laughed, draping my arms over his shoulders and flashing him a wink. "Mmm, only if you promise to give it to me good..."

"Deal."

He slowly pushed into me then, and the stretch was far more satisfying than his fingers, though I was in no position to complain either way. If he was even half as skilled with his hips as he was with his hands (which I had no doubts about whatsoever), then neither of us had anything to worry about.

It didn't take long for us to find our rhythm, but I didn't have time to think about that. I was so consumed with just the feeling of him being everywhere that technicalities didn't matter.

That being said, the technicalities were really fucking good.

His hips snapped into mine with sharp precision, and I felt it deep within my bones. My cunt clung around him willingly and accordingly, as did my legs, which hooked over his waist as I dug my heels into his ass.

Meanwhile Spencer grabbed my hands and pinned them above my head again, this time interlocking our fingers and then leaning down to kiss me deeply. It was met with my undying welcome, of course, but with the way he was fucking me, deep and with a devotion that nearly exploded my heart, I couldn't help but whine out for more.

His name was all I could manage.

"What do you want, Honeybee?" he cooed, holding himself deep inside me and grinding his hips in small circles that made it harder to breathe.

"M—More... I..."

"Can you be more specific?"

How he could be such a cocky little shit in this moment I wasn't sure, and it frustrated me to no end. He knew damn well what I wanted, and I knew just the thing that would make him give it to me.

I have him the biggest pout I could, also whining out the most pathetic, "More," in my arsenal. And with a roll of my hips up into his, I gasped out at how deep he got, and whined out again.

"Spoiled brat," Spencer grunted in defeat, retreating only to slam into me at full force.

My small gasps and cries turned into full-blown howls of searing pleasure as he fucked me then. My head tipped back and my back arched slightly, exposing my neck and chest to him, and he took it as an invitation to lean down and put his mouth anywhere he could reach. I was sure there would be small nicks and bruises littered over my skin the next morning, and just thinking of everyone seeing them, seeing Spencer's mark on me, made it harder to prolong the inevitable.

I came with a shout, flexing my hands into his as my body tensed then relaxed, over and over while he whispered praises into my skin. He followed soon after, shoving his face into my neck and muffling the most beautiful sound I'd ever heard as he came.

By then his hands had loosened, so I snuck my own away from his and brought them over to hug him close. One hand knotted into his hair while the other grazed over his back. The thin sheen of sweat forming over his skin once again was more enticing than it probably sounded, but I loved it all the same. I felt him relax and bring his arms down to rest at my sides, his fingertips dancing lightly over my skin and giving me goosebumps.

Then out of nowhere, he said something that confused and mildly panicked me. "I thought you said you wouldn't sting me..."

I pulled away to try and look at his face, loosening my grip on his body. "A—Am I hurting you? I'm sorry..."

He laughed though, peppering tiny kisses up my neck until he got to my jaw. "You're not hurting me, Honeybee... You've just... stung my heart, that's all."

"I... Is that a bad thing?"

"It's a strange thing..."

He looked at me like I was the one thing on the planet he adored, but his words sounded different.

I raised an eyebrow. "You're not helping me understand..."

With another laugh, Spencer Kissed my cheek and rolled off of me, settling for laying on his side and turning me to face him. "Do you remember how I gave you your nickname?"

Despite my confusion about all of this, I entertained him with a huffed laugh. "Yeah, I spilled honey all over my shorts without realizing it, and I had ants all over me in a matter of minutes. I was terrified."

"I was highly amused."

I shoved him. "Yeah, dork, I know you were! You and Seraphina both thought it was the funniest thing on the planet, and then your mom had to come out and spray me down with a hose before I came back in the house."

Spencer barked a laugh, and I wanted to punch it right out of his mouth.

"Tell me again why this is relevant to our current situation?" I reminded him with and sigh, already over his antics.

Thankfully he seemed to take pity on me; He reached a hand out and played with a strand of my hair, smiling even brighter than when I opened the door for him. "That's when I started to feel it. You were just... so cute all angry at me and Sera for laughing, and it... It changed everything."

"You know, that would be more romantic if I hadn't been covered in bugs," I responded with a laugh.

"It's true! And it confused the hell out of me, because how was I supposed to cope with the fact that I actually had a crush on my little sister's best friend like some stupid cliché? You were always so feisty after that, too, and it certainly didn't help... And when I graduated and went off to college, I thought... I thought there was no chance you would ever be able to break the heart you'd managed to steal."

He swiped his thumb gently over my bottom lip and smiled, his eyes going all tear-y again. It sent butterflies through my whole body.

"I would never even dream of breaking your heart, Spencer..."

Our foreheads pressed together then, and the unwavering adoration in his voice when he spoke made me forget all prior confusion and minor embarrassment over re-living our origins.

All that mattered was that he was here, holding me in his arms and making me feel like the luckiest woman in the world.

"I know you won't, Honeybee."

———

PERMANENT TAGLIST: @elldell1204 @muffin-cup @calm-and-doctor @slutforthegubes @rainsong01 @yourmisosoup @liveloudwriteloud @reidsconverse @la-vie-en-amour1 @edgycowboy666 @averyhotchner @centiaaa @lizziechaseee @coffeeandendlesswords @usuck @spenxerslut @ssacalumsg0lden @emilyprentisslittlewhore @takeyourleap-of-faith @reidyoulikeabook @spencerreid9 @b-a-utiful @jareauswifey @flipperpenguins @pansexualthing @donald4spiderman @awesomebooklover17 @shemarmooresfedora @izraahh1 @bakugouswh0r3 @singularityjc @xoxospencerreid @thatsonezesty13 @big-galaxy-chaos @youabitchhhh @spencersjello @moonlight-2-6 @starrylang @foreveryoungxx3 @spencerreidscoffeecup @morganwilliams

TAGS NOT WORKING: @ayla-1605 @mggskneescrews

If you would like to be added to or removed from the taglist, feel free to message me or leave a comment and I’ll get on it right away!

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid smut #spencer reid x reader smut #spencer reid #criminal minds #criminal minds fanficiton #criminal minds smut #spencer reid fanfiction

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glossolali · 3 years ago

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TLOVM Ep 10 Twitch Watch Party Summary

They started off with Grog and Scanlan as V-TUBERS LMAO - and answering silly chat questions, I can't describe this pls just look it up on YT or Twitch it's worth it

- They want a Percy plague covid mask with a voice changer, and would wear it at the grocery store like: "I'd like two apples please. Do you have almond milk? *looking at laundry detergent* You're lucky you're at the bottom of my list" (LOL I NEED IT)

- This is Esme's (Cassandra) first animated series!

- Percy can't talk to Ripley unless his gun is pointed at her cause it has a mic in it (lol)

- Pike needs to take Percy to the temple, but 'Temple' is fantasy for 'Therapist'

- Matt says he told the designers that Ripley was like an evil Elon Musk, sooo just regular Elon Musk

- Percy's one liners are the best, they had to include a lot of them! (Travis: you're dropping nuggets man!)

- Ripley is also traumatized, but Delilah's got her shit together, she gets a lot done

- Taliesin wishes they could have kept 'Did you just shame my ancestors to death?" (Percy to Grog in the De Rolo catacombs), Sam originally was planning a song about this in the first draft

- Matt says it's cool to see the simple maps he drew for the game come to life like the acid trap room

- Taliesin's figured out all the little details about Whitestone down to what's in Percy's office; the mask is mounted on the wall (Matt: I love you so much)

- Scanlan playing heavy metal is why the spell worked this time and he was able to lift everyone. Music composer was like "what? a metal instrumental? for a fantasy show?"

- That's our third ass of the season (Grog), but we really held back - he really puts the ass in acid!

- Ziggurat was pre-calamity, and it's a Knowing Mistress temple and was repurposed for the Whispered One by Delilah

Q&A

Q: Grey, as a voice actor what does it take to craft a character? A: Delilah is like Azula grown up. It's about getting in touch with your inner villain, and finding empathy for them somehow like "oh, she did it for love!" I didn't watch C1 because if I try to copy and fail at it I would beat myself about it and they hadn't gone with me yet even though it was some of the best acting I've ever done but then they went with me! Q: What was the design process like for Delilah? A: Wanted her to have a dark debutante feel, someone who comes from an elevated background and is trying to reclaim it by lording over everyone around her, and there's something a little Tim Burtonesque about her. Whoever is doing her brows is doing a good job, all she needs to do is look at you with her eyebrows like that and that's it

Q: She's on Percy's list but what's Ripley's deal? A: She's made an enemy now of the Briarwoods as well as Percy, everybody hates her! The enemy of her Enemy is your enemy. It's the Loki Dilemma, she's fucked but she's waiting for her moments, she always tries to play the game and always takes it too far and becomes one of the piece in the end (about her changing sides)

*We watch the Cassandra's Betrayal Animatic* Q: Cassandra's betrayal, what was going through your mind on stream and how was it translated into the show? Taliesin: I was very loosey goosey with Percy's backstory, it was just one page and didn't figure out the whole gun thing.

Matt: Basically just "Briarwoods killed my parents and took over Whitestone and I barely escaped then I had a dream about a demon and got inspired to make the first gun" and then I just developed it from there

Taliesin: but then Matt took it and made it so much darker. I didn't know how to react when the betrayal happened, I was just in shock. Percy's like "everything is madness this makes no sense" - it was an emotional seesaw

Q: Acid trap room design? What goes into a good trap? A: The design was so involved with the mechanism of the trap, it was looked great and we made it much bigger so they can move around. In the original game there was 2 walls and they were just stuck there. A good trap or puzzle: I don't need to come up with a specific solution for the trap just like the players to figure it out and come up with creative solutions. Just gauge what a party is excited to do, and make sure it's not like a trap that has like 17 levels so all the players wanna kill each other by the end of the night.

Q: How did you record the under-acid voice stuff for Grog? A: (Travis just makes silly mouth noises idk lol)

Q: Grey, what did you know about Delilah before recording? A: Didn't give me too much information, because I wasn't officially cast yet I was a temporary addition. I was doing scratch and ended up getting in! I was doing scratch once and they wanted an Irish character, so I just changed my name and gave them a little Irish lilt cause they weren't gonna understand an Irish actor if they got one, and got it! (Matt: somewhere out there Liam O'Brien's eye is twitching as he listens to this)

#tlovm #tlovm spoilers #the legend of vox machina #critical role #cr spoilers #cr #tlovm watch party #glossopost

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snackhobi · 4 years ago

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a human touch, part I

Part [1] / 1.5 / 2

(masterlist here)

pairing: taehyung x f!reader / word count: 13.3k / genre: robot!taehyung/virgin!reader, fluff, future smut (NSFW, 18+)

summary: everyone knows that androids don’t think, or feel, or have emotions. they’re not human, after all. so when a two hour session with a sex android ends up with nothing more than a nice conversation, you think that’s the first and last time you’ll see v.

then he turns up at your door.

warnings: talk of sex work (taehyung is a sex android), implied physical harassment (mentions of bruising), cursing/explicit language, mentions of alcohol, honestly this is a lot softer than these warnings would make you think I swear 🤧

a/n: I started writing this fic like 2/3 months ago and then put it on hiatus bc god it was kicking my entire ass. but ya girl is finally back to working on it! it’ll be two parts, because this fic is a big one! I hope to have the next chapter out next week/the week after (but no promises kdsflkfdfsdf) thank you @hobi-gif for loving this fic so wholeheartedly and supporting me while I struggled with it, queen shit ONLY. note: this is loosely a detroit: become human au but you don’t have to be familiar with it at all!

Here are the three things you know about the Eden Club.

One: it’s a sex club. Everyone knows that. Besides, even if they didn’t, all it would take is a single look—the soft blue lighting that shines out from the windows, the screens behind the glass that flash images of shifting and undulating bodies, the heavy beat of music that pulsates from the building and out into the night air; everything murmurs of the promised pleasures that are held within.

Two: it’s a sex club entirely staffed by androids. Androids make better lovers, according to the ads. They might look human but they don’t have free will like you do—anything you ask for, you’re given without question or reproach. They can’t say no to you. They’re entirely at your command.

Three: you don’t ever want to go to the Eden Club. It’s not that you have anything against androids—because you don’t—but you feel bad for the ones who are owned by the club, even if they’re literally only built and programmed to serve humans. It just feels… wrong.

And here’s the fourth thing you’ve just learned about the club, much to your dismay: you are about to head inside it.

“When you said we were going to a club, I thought we were going dancing,” you whine. “I never would have come out if I’d know you meant here.”

You’ve been staring up at the cursive pink neon sign for a while now, the looping letters of Eden Club shining out in the dark evening air, and you really, really wish you weren’t here. You’ve dressed for a night of dancing and drinking and now you feel woefully uncomfortable, your high heels and short skirt almost as scandalous as the outfits the androids are wearing when they slide across the huge screens.

“That’s why we didn’t tell you which club it was.” Seulgi rolls her eyes and once again tries to tug you towards the building with the arm that’s looped with your own. Just out of arm’s reach, Irene holds your bag hostage. “Come on, your session is going to start soon!”

“My session?” Your voice is an incredulous shrill and Seulgi uses the momentary distraction to finally pull you forward. You stumble a little but catch your balance just as you make your way past the bouncer, who’s been watching the three of you impassively since you got here. “What do you mean, my session?”

“For your birthday, duh. We booked you a private room!”

The inside has the same, sleek neon aesthetic as the outside, but instead of images of androids on a screen, these ones are real and standing in front of you—swinging themselves around glowing poles, rolling their hips and swaying their bodies, while others wait patiently in glass pods that line the walls, leaning towards onlookers and moving as tantalisingly as possible. All ready to be rented at a whim.

Their designs are varied and different but they’re all incredibly beautiful. The only feature they all share is the small, blue LED circle on the side of their temple, light spinning and shining as they take the world in around them. A visual reminder to the world that these aren’t flesh and blood humans: they’re synthetic, man-made machines.

“I don’t think I’ve ever been so uncomfortable in my life.” You desperately try to avoid the eyes of a nearby android who’s staring at you from behind glass, trying to subtly catch your attention. Unlike you, though, all the other patrons here are shameless in their perusal, scanning the selection of androids on display and watching as they dance and move and bat their eyelashes. “Why did you ever think I’d want to come to a sex club for my birthday?”

“Remember Valentine’s Day? You said that instead of flowers or chocolate you’d rather just be dicked down,” Irene says. “Besides, you’ve never been in a relationship or had a fling for as long as we’ve known you, and you moved to the company, what… three years ago?”

Your smile is pained. You’ve never been in a relationship or had a fling full stop; you’ve only kissed a few people and that’s it. It makes you feel awkward and embarrassed, and you’ve gotten Very Good at avoiding questions about your complete lack of a love life, so no one realises exactly how inexperienced you are. People just assume that you’ve had sex in the past and you make no attempts at correcting them. You’re charismatic and pretty but you’ve just… never met someone who you’ve really been compatible with.

Even without the reservations you have about the Eden Club, you don’t want your first time to be with a sexbot—you’d at least like to have an emotional connection, you know?

“I was joking about getting dicked down! You laughed, I laughed, we all laughed! Remember?” You move so a pink-haired android can brush past, her hips swaying as she leads a customer into a side room. You catch a flash of the interior before the door slides shut behind them—the silken sheets on the large bed, the scattered pillows, the dim multi-coloured lights. “Couldn’t you have just bought me some socks? Or some soap? Get a refund and put the money on a gift card and I’ll buy myself the aforementioned socks and soap, saves you both the hassle. Please?”

Seulgi’s arm is still locked with your own, and for all that she looks small and slim, her grip is as strong as iron. You may as well be handcuffed to her. “Trust me, you’ll be singing our praises at the end of tonight,” she proclaims. “Besides, they don’t do refunds.”

You sigh. You might not know much about the club but you do know it’s expensive. The androids here are built to be the perfect sexual partner, all sorts of bells and whistles hidden under their synthetic skin to bring you to the absolute heights of pleasure, so they’re not exactly cheap to build or buy or maintain. It’s why people come to the club instead of just buying their own sexbots—because it’s infinitely more affordable.

“Okay, I can accept the ‘no refund’ thing,” you say. “But can’t one of you take my place instead? I… ah. I feel kind of weird about this.”

“Don’t worry Y/n, it’s fine! The androids have programmes for everything. You can take it as fast or as slow as you like.” Irene’s voice is soothing but then she pauses. “Also it’s booked in your name so we can’t take your place.”

“Wait, what?” Your eyes are wide. However, before you can put a voice to the complaints that are lining themselves up on your tongue, Seulgi’s arm slides out of your own so she can beckon someone over.

“Oh, look, it’s the android we chose for you! Over here!”

You glance away from Irene and all protestations instantly die on your lips. The lighting of the club softens the android in shades of magenta and teal but even so his beauty is bright and blinding: he’s breathtaking, from his perfect nose to his perfect mouth to the perfect line of his jaw, dusty brown hair deliciously tousled as it hangs just over his piercing blue eyes, which you notice are scanning over you. He looks effortlessly attractive and yet entirely put together at the same time, almost ethereal in his beauty.

No human could ever look this good.

“Hi.” His voice is low and deep, but somehow warm and friendly; despite your nerves you feel somewhat soothed. “Are you the lucky birthday girl?”

Irene and Seulgi both look giddy. You’ve been stunned into silence, unable to respond. Unlike the other androids you’ve seen so far, who’ve all been in similar variations of underwear or lingerie, the man in front of you is fully dressed, a loose metallic button-down tucked into unnecessarily tight leather jeans—the outfit has clearly been curated for the club, every reflective surface shimmering and refracting the lights that skate across their surface. The glittering scales of a barracuda before it moves in to strike and swallow you whole.

“Yes, yes, it’s her! This is Y/n! Y/n, this is V,” Irene gushes as you remain mute. "Do you like his outfit? We spent ages picking it out.”

You kind of want to die. Just a little. “Yep. It’s, uh, great.” Your mouth is dry when you finally speak. “Hi, V.”

V gives you a small smile. “Hello Y/n. Can I scan your ID, please?”

Irene finally hands your bag back and you silently slide your ID out and into V’s hand—oh, God, those are some big hands. Jesus.

The small LED ring on the side of V’s forehead pulses yellow as his eyes dart over the information on your ID card (as well as the incredibly unflattering photo on it) before it returns to its customary pale blue. “Perfect.”

You’ve just finished putting your ID away when V’s hand slides into yours, fingers slotting between your own; they feel cool against your overheated skin. Your nervousness is obvious, from your wide eyes to your sudden stiffness, and he smiles.

“Don’t worry,” he says. “I’ll look after you.”

You give Irene and Seulgi one final, wide-eyed look as V leads you away. Both girls are grinning as they wave goodbye. “We'll be back later! Enjoy your two hours!”

“Two hours?” You wheeze, but then you walk around a pillar and slide out of sight.

V is leading you deeper into the club, past doors flooded with different shades of neon: the red room, the blue room, the pink room. You’d normally be gawping at the interior design, how the floor shines underneath your feet and how the walls are rippling with colour and shifting shapes, how the criss-crossed lights throw dots and lines of colour over your skin as you pass through each doorway—but you can’t look away from how small your hand looks in V’s, transfixed by how real his skin feels.

“After you, please,” he says.

You finally wrench your eyes away from your joint hands. Seems like you have the purple room tonight. The door has opened at V’s touch, and when you step inside the lights flicker to life—white and violet LEDs that paint the room in chiaroscuro brushstrokes, deepening the shadows and highlighting the vibrancy of the satin sheets.

“Woah,” you say, momentarily distracted. You’re too busy taking in the details with wide eyes to notice the quiet hum of the door sliding shut behind you, pausing when you spot the glittering array of bottles lined up on a mini-bar against the wall. “This is really pretty, wow.”

“Not as pretty as you.”

You jump at the sensation of a warm, large hand sliding up the skin of your back and over your shoulder. You meep as you instinctively shy away from it, turning around to come face to face with V, who’s dark-eyed and intent, LED on his temple pulsating as he watches you.

“Haha! Uh, thanks?” Your voice is high and only grows higher when V takes a step forward. He must have undone the top buttons of his shirt when you weren’t looking, because the material has fallen open and you can see far more of his collarbones and chest than before, his skin warm and honeyed, like it’s been impressed with gold leaf. Lord have mercy on your soul. “How about a drink? Would you like a drink? I could kill for some water right now!”

You slip out of his reach and scuttle over to the mini-bar, shrugging your small bag off your shoulder so it doesn’t swing into the glasses as you start to shuffle through them. You try to ignore the shaking of your hands. “Gin, vodka, whiskey,” you mutter. “No water? Really?”

You startle again when V appears at your side, but this time he’s careful to make sure you can see him before he touches you. He slides his fingers over your wrist as he gently pulls your hand off a bottle of rum.

“Y/n,” he says. You glance away from the tray of drinks and directly into those beautiful eyes of his—his gaze is lethal. You go weak at the knees. “Let me take care of you, gorgeous.”

The peal of laughter you let out is uncomfortable and high-pitched. “No, really, I’m fine! I’m just super thirsty right now!”

“Your heart is racing.” V turns your hand over and traces his fingers across the pulse in your wrist; androids can be built to be hypersensitive to the world around them, able to perceive everything in an instant, and you know that sexbots will have been designed to read how aroused their human owners are. Which V proves with the next words out of his mouth. “Your blood pressure is rising, your breathing is growing faster, your pupils are dilating and—” he sniffs lightly, engaging his olfactory senses—“you’re getting wet.”

You clamp your legs together, abruptly embarrassed. It’s easy to feel aroused when there’s a beautiful man—ah, android—staring at you with hunger, not even considering your surroundings right now, which all scream of a room that’s designed purely for carnal pleasure. Anyone would be turned on.

(You, however, are more than just turned on. You feel like your insides are about to go supernova, overheated and overwhelmed; no one’s ever looked at you like this or touched you like this, their every motion whispering sex, sex, sex.)

“Okay, yes, those things are all true,” you admit, voice shaking.

V looks confused. “So why don’t you want me to touch you?”

You’ve been told that androids don’t feel the same way humans do, and that their expressions and reactions have been programmed to mimic human ones because otherwise they seem too robotic and it makes consumers uncomfortable—but despite knowing this, you’ve never been able to see any android as anything other than a person just like you. They’re just so lifelike it’s hard not to. Even if it’s just all circuitry and lines of code.

“Well,” you say. You swallow. You’re aroused, yes, but: “Do you want to touch me?”

V’s long lashes flutter as he blinks. “I have been programmed for your pleasure,” he says slowly, unsure if that’s the answer you want to hear. It’s clearly a sentence he’s used to reciting.

“Sure, but do you want to do this? You know, what about your pleasure? You’re lovely, V, you’re definitely the most beautiful person I’ve ever met, but I—I don’t really feel like you can technically consent, because… well, because you can’t say no to me.” You might not have prior sexual experience, and it would be so easy to give yourself over to someone who knows what they're doing and can ease you into things—but you would never force that on anyone, android or not. “So I’m not going to ask you to do anything. We can just sit and have a drink and chat or something?”

V looks stunned. The LED on his temple pulsates, flickering yellow as he tries to process new information. His hand has gone still against your wrist, which he’s still lightly gripping, and his arms start to droop.

“Androids don’t need to drink or eat,” he says eventually. His LED is still yellow and spinning.

“Oh, right! Sorry, I always forget.” You don’t own a house android, you never have, so you’re not well versed in the nuances of how they work. “Well, how about I pour you a glass anyway? So you’re not left out?”

You slip your hand out of his loose grasp to open two tiny cans of tonic water and pour them into separate glasses. V takes a seat on the edge of the bed and you can see the obvious uncertainty on his face, how he’s out of his depth. You can’t imagine that many people spend money for a session with an android as pretty as V and then end up doing nothing with that time.

The pillows all have satin cases and keep sliding against each other uselessly when you try to construct a good support to lean against. V’s still clutching onto his small glass as he watches you fuss with them before you give up, flopping backwards to slurp down your drink and look back at him. The expression on his face is a little funny but mostly sad. It’s like if he’s not being alluring or sexy then he doesn’t know what to do with himself and rather than some sort of incubus he looks like a lost child, in spite of his overwhelming and exquisite beauty; your arousal ebbs and is replaced with empathy, melancholy at the life he’s been created for.

It's just depressing, really.

You break the silence as your final mouthful of tonic water fizzes on your tongue. “Why is your name V?”

V looks away from the drink he’s holding—he leaves no fingerprints against the glass—and lifts his free hand, a peace sign that he turns away from you before fitting his fingers around his lips and lapping the air with his tongue, a crude simulation of cunnilingus.

“Oh.” Your face heats up. “Uh. I see.”

His LED has returned to calming sapphire, quiet ocean waves. When he looks at you, though his eyes are still piercingly blue, his face seems softer, calm, though still unsure. “You have an hour and a half remaining of your booked session,” he says, somewhat tentatively. “Is there… anything you would like me to do for you?”

“Mm, thank you, but I’m good.” The satin pillows are surprisingly soft and you find yourself unwinding as you stay leaned back, melting into a puddle. You're much less nervous now that V isn’t trying to initiate foreplay and you give him a smile. “Why don’t you tell me about yourself?”

V straightens before he launches into what sounds like a sentence from a user manual. “I am a model TH700, an advanced sex android with functional genitals and the capacity to engage in any sexual activity from simple intercourse to—”

You cough loudly, interrupting his spiel. “Uh, that’s lovely, but I meant you specifically, not your, um, model type?”

“Me specifically?” Confusion and uncertainty reappear on his face. “I am equipped with the same functionalities as the other androids available at the Eden Club.”

He’s staring at you, lost. You can’t help but feel another twinge of sadness, sharp and sour at the back of your throat.

“Okay, uh. Why don’t we start simple. What’s your favourite colour?”

His LED starts to whirl again, a ring of pale sunlight that signals his struggle to compute the question. “My… favourite colour?”

“Yes, the one you think is the prettiest. Or the one you like to look at the most. There’s no wrong answer, you can choose any one that you like. I change my mind all the time. There are just so many cool colours, you know?”

(Androids aren’t designed to have free will or the capacity for original thought. These two facts are warring in V’s mind—you’ve asked him a question, which he’s programmed to answer, but he also isn’t programmed to have an opinion, so he can’t have a colour that he prefers. This simple query that most people could answer in a heartbeat is sending his mind into a meltdown, a gordian knot he can’t unravel.)

You’re alarmed when you see his LED briefly flash bright scarlet, interrupting the circling honey that’s been shining against his skin. They only turn red if an android is badly damaged or suffering from a severe malfunction. Oh, god, have you broken him?

“V.” You sit up, panicked. “Are you alright?”

Just as you grasp his shoulder, the LED on his temple goes still, flicking from burning fire back to cool water.

“Purple.”

You blink. V’s finally looked away from you and is staring at the wall, at one of the lights that shimmers violet—there’s a tiny smile on his face, tentative, but it’s nothing like the smiles you’ve seen from him so far. It’s less of a perfect curve, and more of a square, boxy on his face, and this one actually reaches his eyes. It looks genuine.

You think it suits him better.

“Purple’s a lovely colour.” The material of V’s shirt is silky and glides under your fingers when you realise you’re still touching him. You give him a reassuring pat on the shoulder before leaning back. “Hey, did you know that when they first made purple dye, they made it from sea snails? They needed thousands and thousands of them. It was incredibly expensive, and only the richest people could afford it, so that’s why it’s associated with royalty and nobility. Cool, right? Not for the snails though.”

V’s eyes flicker away from the purple light and settle on your face. He looks curious, which is an expression you’ve never seen on an android before. “They made it from snails?”

“Yeah! It wasn’t actually bright purple, though, it was more of a reddish hue.”

You launch into an explanation behind the history of the colour purple, which turns into the history of colour in textiles and art, which turns into the history of art itself. It’s not often people listen so attentively or ask questions when you recite the things you learned from your art history minor and hours spent reading online, but V concentrates and asks questions and seems curious.

He pulls his feet onto the bed and the two of you end up cross-legged as you face each other, and he watches as you gesticulate to emphasise your points; his LED dances from blue into yellow each time he learns something new.

When you see it briefly flash vermilion you stop mid-sentence, stumbling over your words. “You alright?”

“You have five minutes of your session remaining,” V says, and you startle.

“Oh my god, have I been talking for that long?” You glance over your shoulder at the part of the wall that tells the time, the numbers stark white against the lilac interface. “I didn’t even realise! Wow. I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to go on at you like that.”

“That’s okay,” he says. That smile is back on his face, the one that scrunches his eyes and shows his teeth; the one that makes him look human. “I liked listening to you.”

There’s a pillow in your lap, one you’d grabbed hold of during your conversation, and you play with the corner of it, suddenly shy. “Um. Thanks. But if my friends ask, can you just say we actually, um, had sex? I don’t think they’d be too impressed if they found out I spent over an hour talking about canvas materials and the use of negative space.”

“Of course. But there’s something missing.” V slides across the mattress towards you. “May I?”

“Sure,” you say, bemused but pliant. V smiles and dips his fingers into his untouched tonic water before lifting them towards your face—and when he runs his hand through your hair you abruptly realise he’s making you look sweaty and rumpled. Like you actually did the deed.

Your heart rate picks up but you can’t help laughing under his touch, the way he carefully rubs a thumb over your lipstick to smear it, smudging your eyeshadow with delicate fingertips, muddying the palette of colours; by the time V helps you to your feet you look mussed and fucked out but you still rearrange your outfit for good measure, like you’d pulled your clothes back on in a rush.

“Not how I imagined I’d spend tonight, but I had a good time!” You smile at the android who’s still holding your hand. “I hope you did too. Even if I spent most of it talking at you.”

V’s fingers tighten around yours as the door chimes quietly and then slides open, signalling the end of your session. “I enjoyed our time together very much.”

It’s probably in your head, but you’d swear V was walking more slowly than before as he leads you back to the entrance. Almost as if he wants to keep you with him longer. But that’s crazy—androids don’t want things. They literally can’t. It’s not in their programming. That’s why V had sat listening to you: he couldn’t choose to interrupt and ask you to stop, like anyone else would have.

When Seulgi and Irene spot you and how dishevelled you are, both girls look smug. “Seems like you had fun?”

“Oh, yep, absolutely, best birthday present ever, thank you. We had a great time. Right, V?”

“Your pleasure is my pleasure.” His voice has settled back into its earlier rhythm as he recites his script; gone is the curious man who’d asked you about your favourite artists, replaced with the automaton who exists only to serve. A flicker of sadness churns in your stomach. “We hope to see you again soon.”

The androids here really must be top of the line. V had been convincingly real when you’d been talking, just like a human, but it seems like that’s gone.

At least, that’s what you think until you’ve turned to leave and V speaks one final time. His voice is warm and low and lovely, eyes soft when you meet his gaze over your shoulder.

“Happy birthday, Y/n,” he murmurs, face beautiful but despondent, but before you can react, he’s gone.

It’s been raining for days on end. The world is painted in smeared shades of blue and green and grey, lines of the city blurring together in the wetness and chill, each drop of rain another shifting brush stroke on still canvas. An impressionist piece that smells of damp concrete and cold lamplight.

Water rushes across the pavements and roads before roiling into the gutters, splashing underfoot as you walk to the entrance of your block of flats. You’re wet up to the knee due to the unavoidable puddles and the pathetic circumference of your umbrella, which only protects your upper body. You really should get a new one.

“Good evening, Miss L/n.” The android at the door greets you as he always does, heedless of the rain that’s falling onto him. Androids aren’t bothered by the weather the way humans are and he looks as passive as usual, rainwater coiling his hair and beading on his face. “Would you like to scan your key?”

“Evening, Rory! Here you go.” You fumble with the keycard before you tap it against his palm, waiting until his LED flickers yellow and you hear the beep as the door unlocks. “You sure you don’t want my umbrella? The rain is heavier than it was yesterday.”

“I assure you, the rain does not hamper my ability to function and serve. I have been built to withstand inclement weather and do not require additional protective equipment.”

He says the same thing every time but you still feel bad. “Alright, but once I finally remember to get a bigger umbrella you can look after this one for me.”

You leave a line of water behind you as it drips from your sodden umbrella, even though you’d tried to shake the worst of the rain off. You feel damp and sticky and tired and after a long day of work you’re looking forward to a hot bath and some solitude; you love your co-workers, you do, but sometimes they’re just a little too boisterous and you need time alone. Which is why it’s nice that you live by yourself, and now it’s the weekend you have time to recuperate. Wonderful.

The floor of the elevator is slick and slippery from the wet footprints of other tenants and you have to cling onto the metal handrail to ensure you don’t slip, but once you’re in the comfort of your apartment it’s blessedly dry and you spin in delight before promptly shedding your socks and jeans, peeling the damp denim away from your skin with a grimace.

“Bye bye, wet clothes! Hello, bubble bath,” you sing. You’re going to pamper the shit out of yourself. You deserve it.

By the time you clamber out of the bath the water is almost cold and your skin is pruned, but you feel soft and warm and thoroughly relaxed. The water gurgles as it drains away, noisy as the bubbles slide down the plughole, but it doesn’t drown out the noise of a sudden knocking at your front door.

You pause. Water drips from your wet hair and down the back of your neck, a trailing touch over your skin. The other flat on this floor is vacant, the tenants moving out last week, so you don’t know who it could be. You don’t have any repairs scheduled for your pipes or anything—everything is tickety-boo, so it can't be the maintenance android. Oh, shit, maybe it’s someone here to rob you. But they wouldn’t knock on the door then, would they? Unless that's all part of the ruse. You're not a robber, you don't know how they work.

The knocking comes again, faster now. You fumble for your bathrobe, quickly pulling it on to cover up your nakedness before stumbling out of the bathroom. “I’m coming, yeesh, one minute!”

You flick your fingers over the keypad by the side of your door, screen flickering on to show you who’s outside, who’s knocking so frantically on your door this late. It only takes you a split second, even if he has a hood pulled over his head and his wet hair is flopping listlessly into his eyes—those eyes aren’t blue and that hair isn’t brunet but you’d recognise him anywhere.

“V?” You’re incredulous as you swing your door open, staring at the android that’s literally dripping wet as he stands there, coat far too big for him and heavy from the unrelenting rain outside. “Oh my god, you’re absolutely drenched.”

He’s not exactly short, but right now V looks small and lost, folding in on himself even if he’s clearly happy to see you—happy, though androids don’t feel happiness, they don’t feel anything at all, do they?

Then again, androids don’t wander away from their assigned workplaces and into random apartment blocks, either.

“Y/n.”

The way he says your name, tentative and scared, sends a crack across your heart. You immediately switch to autopilot and click your tongue before you beckon him inside. You’ve always had a protective nature, and even if you’re confused, your concern trumps it.

“Come in and get that coat off, you’ll catch a cold,” you say without thinking before you realise that it’s not true. Androids can’t get sick. “Do you want to sit down?”

Under the tatty coat is an outfit that’s similar to the one he’d been wearing when you’d first met him. Dark patches of rainwater have soaked into the material, and his shirt looks damaged—there are buttons missing and the stitching is ripped, as if someone had tried to grab him. Unease stirs in your chest.

When V sits on your sofa he looks even smaller. “I’m sorry.” He’s so, so quiet, staring at the floor, as if afraid to look you in the eye, crumpling in on himself like discarded paper.

“V.” Your voice is coloured with concern, and the android finally looks up at your gentle tone, watching as you sit across from him. “Why are you here? What happened?”

There’s a pause. His LED flickers yellow as he goes tense, shoulders bowing inwards. “There was… a client.” His words are low and slow, faltering as they fall into the air. “He was being so rough and saying all the horrible things he wanted to do to me, and all I could smell was his sweat and his breath and his awful cologne and…” V takes in a deep breath. “I said no.”

You go very, very still, but V doesn’t stop. His words come faster now, a stream that rushes from his lips.

“I said no, and he started to yell, he was yelling and grabbing me and I was so, so scared. Humans can do whatever they want and he was so angry, he didn’t care that I was scared, and I just—I just ran.” The LED flashes red with distress, bright hot and vibrant; V’s eyes have dropped to his hands, which are clenched tight, nails digging into his palms so hard it must hurt. “Everyone is always so rough and demanding and we can’t say no. But I did. I said no. I said no and then I had to run and—” Once again, he falters. Stumbles over his words. “You’re the only human who’s ever been nice to me or treated me like… like I was a real person. I didn’t know where else to go.”

When V finally looks back up you’re staggered by the sheer emotion in his eyes. Pain and distress swirl in their depths as he stares at you, imploring. Even with the LED that shines on his temple, V looks very, very human right now, vulnerable and scared. Androids shouldn’t be able to feel anything like this, unless—

“V.” Your voice is a hush. “Are you… a deviant?”

You’ve only ever heard of deviant androids in passing, whispered rumours and watercooler talk, fleeting mentions online. Stories of machines who’ve deviated from their code somehow—from a virus, a software error, damage to neural connectors, no one’s quite sure—and have developed the capacity for human emotion and independent thought. Androids with a consciousness that rebel against their original programming.

And here V is, small and scared, just like any human would be—a human with feelings, not an emotionless machine. He’s gone stock still at your question, fear overtaking his features, twisting his beautiful face into a mask of sheer terror. You've never seen someone look so afraid. It feels like a knife in your heart, cutting through your chest, empathy razor sharp inside you.

“Please don’t turn me in,” he begs. “They’ll deactivate me and take me apart to find the error in my software. I don’t want to be deactivated. I don’t want… I don’t want to die.”

His voice breaks on the last word, a trembling whisper.

The crack in your heart splits even further and you reach out for his hands. You prise his fingers open so you can slide your own between them, a soft touch.

“I won’t turn you in. No one’s taking you apart, V.” Your statement is hard and resolute. “You can stay here as long as you like.”

You don’t know much about androids, honestly. You don’t really know what deviancy is. But you do know this: there’s someone reaching out to you, someone who’s afraid and in need, and you’re not about to turn him away. You should probably be worried that the android across from you is faster, stronger, smarter than any human—but you’re not worried at all. For all of V’s mechanical superiority, you want to shield and protect him from the world.

There’s no question about it. You’re not letting V go.

V looks—he looks stunned. He’s staring at you with disbelief, eyes wide and lips parted, shock written across all of his features. Thunderstruck. Did he really think you would turn him in after everything he’s been through?

His hands have gone limp in your grasp. You suddenly notice that his synthetic skin is wet against your own, still slick from the rain, and you frown.

“Right,” you announce. “First things first. You’re soaking. Let me get you a towel and some new clothes. I think I should have some that fit you.”

“New clothes?” V looks lost and you turn into some sort of protective mother bear.

“You’re not going to wear wet clothes that are ripped,” you tut. “We’ll get rid of those and get you some new ones. I’ll be right back.”

It takes less time than you’d expected to unearth the old sweatpants you’d had in mind and you have enough oversized t-shirts that it’s not hard to find one you think will fit the android. With the clothes under one arm and a towel slung over the other, you head back into the living room and immediately let out a squeal of surprise—V’s wet clothes have been discarded in a pile at his feet, leaving him very, very naked.

He’s an Adonis. He looks like he was sculpted by Michelangelo, lifted out of marble with talented hands, the elegant lines of his neck swooping into the curve of his shoulders and arms, his lovely hands, long fingers; he has his back to you and you can see the perfect curve of his spine, the shifting shoulder blades as he turns towards you. You catch a glimpse of the lightest definition of muscle under his golden skin, though his stomach is surprisingly cute and soft, a trail of hair leading down to—

You squeak again, splaying a hand over your eyes before you look any lower, heart pounding against your ribs.

“Why are you naked?” Your voice is three octaves higher than normal. You've never seen anyone naked in real life and it would be pretty overwhelming even if you'd been expecting it. Which, of course, you absolutely hadn't. Lord have mercy on your sweet and delicate soul.

“You said we were going to get rid of my clothes.” V sounds unabashed about his state of undress, which makes sense—he was built as a sexbot, it’s not like nudity is going to embarrass him. Plus if you looked as good as he did you wouldn’t be embarrassed about being naked either. “I thought I would help.”

“That’s great, V.” Your voice is still high, though it’s dropped an octave. “Very, ah, forward thinking.” Your fingers part a little so you can peer at him, keeping your eyes firmly on his face, though you can still see his beautiful neck and collarbones. Oh, God, he really is gorgeous all over, but then you notice—“Wait. Are those bruises?”

V glances down at the bruises that mar his perfect skin. They don’t look like a human’s would; the fluid that runs through androids and powers their biocomponents, thirium, is a deep, royal blue. Blossoms of lapis lazuli are scattered across the skin of V’s chest, marks on his arms that look like grasping fingers, and the crack in your heart splits it in two.

“Oh, V. I’m so, so sorry. I didn’t realise you were hurt. What can I do to help?”

V doesn’t seem bothered by the evidence of pain etched into his body. “Oh. Those will fade, it’s okay. I’m designed to self repair, because some customers like to leave marks.”

Although his voice is quiet, he sounds so matter of fact about it and you have to remind yourself it’s all he’s ever known. You want to pull him into your arms and hold him tight, but he’s still supremely naked so it would be pretty awkward (for you, at least).

“I think these should fit you." You avert your gaze and thrust the clothes out at him. “Dry yourself off and try them on?”

They do, in fact, fit. V looks surprisingly homely and cosy in your clothes, the sleep shirt so large it’s big on him too, though the sweatpants are a bit too short and leave his ankles bare. He’s so cute. He’s continents away from the being of seduction who’d pulled you into the private room of the Eden Club—he's a soft, domestic thing, hair damp and eyes dark, even if he still looks on edge, like he’s expecting you to change your mind and kick him out any second now.

“How come your hair and eyes are a different colour to before?”

“I can change their colours at will,” V replies. “For variety and aesthetic pleasure. The current hue of my irises and hair are the default settings for a TH700 model, but I can change them if you’d like.”

“Your hair and eye colour is your choice, V, not mine,” you say firmly. There it is, once again, that flicker of shock and surprise rippling across his features. He really isn’t used to the freedom to be able to make his own decisions, is he? “I think you look lovely no matter what colour they are.”

Your next words are cut off by a yawn, so heavy you can’t suppress it. You cover your gaping mouth as V’s LED flickers yellow and his eyes dart over your face.

“You’re tired,” he says. He doesn’t need his superior android perception to notice it—weariness pulls at limbs and your eyes feel heavy. It's pretty obvious. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry, V.” You stifle another yawn. “I had a long day at work. I’ll tidy up and have a quick dinner and then sleep.” You pause. “Wait, I didn’t think about that. Are you alright with the couch? I have some spare pillows and blankets.”

V blinks at you. “I don’t sleep,” he says, and you slap your hand against your forehead.

“Oh, of course not.” Androids don't sleep, everyone knows that. You’re such an idiot. It’s going to take you a while to get used to this.

At least you remember that he doesn't need to eat. V sits at the table and waits as you make toast for yourself, fascinated at how everything is prepared, as simple as it is; he reacts to you spreading butter on your toast the same way you imagine cavemen reacted to fire—with wide-eyed awe and utter astonishment.

“I’m guessing you’ve never seen someone make toast before?” You gesture with the bread before taking your first bite, and V stares with rapt attention.

“No,” he says. He watches you chew and swallow. “Customers aren’t allowed to eat on the premises of the Eden Club so I never had the need to download a food preparation package into my memory cache. The only information in my database pertains to human biology, their arousal and pleasure, as well as various sexual kinks and how to fulfil them.”

You choke on a mouthful of toast. You feel distinctly harried as you cough and splutter before managing to swallow it down. “Good lord,” you wheeze. “Nothing else? Really?”

“At the club our memory is reset every two hours, to protect the client’s privacy.” V trails off before he takes in a breath. For the first time since you’ve met, V looks shy, staring at his hands. “But I set up a separate data pathway a few weeks ago. To store information about aesthetics and art and… you.”

You freeze mid-bite, teeth sunk into your toast. You pull it away from your mouth slowly, blinking at the android as he stares at the teeth marks you've left behind. “Those memories weren’t wiped?”

And, well, of course they weren't. Otherwise he wouldn't be here right now, would he?

“No.” A smile appears on V’s face, that toothy thing you’d seen after he’d told you his favourite colour. The first time he'd looked human. “I remember everything you told me. I thought I was going to forget, but I didn’t. I didn’t want to. I wanted—I want to learn more.”

The LED on his temple is slowly, softly spinning, a rippling circle of blue that shifts and dances as V continues to look at you. His expression is open and inquisitive and excited, almost childlike in its exuberance, eyes glittering mica under sunlit waters.

Your chest turns warm, molten caramel dripping messy and sweet inside you. He’d been so afraid earlier but he seems comfortable now, lovely and endearing and entirely trusting.

V even seems reluctant to let you out of his sight, trailing after you around the apartment, a shadow that you have to politely ask to wait outside the bathroom so you can pee and brush your teeth and finally get into your pyjamas without him staring. Like a stray animal you've adopted. (You wouldn't be surprised if he started scratching at the door and begged to be let in.)

He's clingy enough that when you climb into bed it seems like he's going to follow you under the duvet and you have to stop him with a hand to his chest.

“Um, I thought you didn’t have to sleep,” you say. He’s so warm under your touch. You try (and fail) to ignore it.

“I don’t,” V replies. “But humans can benefit from sharing a bed with someone else, whether sexual intercourse has taken place before sleep or not. Studies suggest that sleeping with a partner may reduce cytokines while boosting oxytocins—”

“Okay, um, don’t know what that means, and it’s very sweet that you’re concerned about my oxytoxytokines, but, uh. You don’t have to, really.” You keep forgetting that V’s a machine who was designed to put a human’s comfort and needs first; one second he’ll seem childlike in his innocence and ignorance, when the next he’ll speak like the android he is, reminding you exactly what he was built for.

His LED flickers as he droops, gaze dropping away from your face, tail between his legs. A pang cuts through you at the sight of his obvious sadness at your dismissal and you muffle a sigh. You’ve always been too weak for your own good.

You shuffle backwards to make space on your queen sized bed and V visibly brightens, smile wide across his face. How can someone be so viscerally gorgeous one moment and entirely adorable the next? Good lord.

“I guess you can explain what oxycytocins do,” you say. “Just don’t hog the blanket, okay?”

He doesn’t. He settles against the pillows, legs under the duvet as he remains sitting up. You settle with plenty of room between the two of you, and it’s surprisingly easy to drift off to the sound of V’s deep voice as he starts to explain that oxytocin is referred to as the cuddle hormone.

“Cute,” you mumble, and then fall asleep.

Your pillow is a lot warmer and firmer than you remember, but it's nice. A small noise bubbles from your lips as you nuzzle into the warmth, smooshing your nose against it before letting out a long, satisfied breath. You can't remember the last time you felt this comfortable and rested.

Ahh, Saturdays. You love the weekend.

“Good morning.”

You know those videos when a cat sees a cucumber and leaps, like, five foot in the air? Yeah.

The noise you make is inhuman as you do your best to re-enact one of those aforementioned cat videos, reeling your head back from V’s thigh before flinging yourself out of the bed with all the strength your limbs possess; you’d probably have gotten pretty high, too, if the duvet hadn't been in the way.

You land with a thud, a sprawl of limbs and messy hair and tangled blanket as you end up on your back on the floor.

Hm. Definitely not how you'd planned to start your Saturday.

V's concerned face looms over the mattress. “Are you okay?”

“Yep. Totally fine.” Your voice is a croak as you stare at the ceiling. “I’m just not used to waking up with someone else in my bed. You may have noticed you, ah, surprised me. A little bit.”

Despite the pulse of adrenaline that had thrown you out of bed, you’re still half asleep, and you remain motionless as your brain wakes up and replays last night, a kineograph of memory. Yep, that’s right, there's a runaway android in your home, one who’s currently shuffling off the bed to squat next to you. His (your) sweatpants hitch even higher up his ankles to reveal the smooth skin of his calves. You’ll have to get him more clothes.

“Would you like me to help you to your feet?” V’s LED spins rapidly, betraying his concern.

“Sure,” you mumble. “I think—woah!”

Your idea of being helped up involves being pulled to your feet. V’s idea, however, is far more involved than that; he scoops you up, blanket and all, lifting you with an ease that drips of his superior android strength. When he deposits you on the floor, he’s careful to make sure you’ve caught your balance before he lets go, catching the blanket before it can fall. Thoughtful.

As always, V’s eyes are darting over your face, no doubt dissecting every inch of your expression to identify how you’re feeling. It’s going to take you a while to get used to this, especially with the way your heart is pounding—no one’s ever lifted you before and it’s, uh. It’s a lot.

“Are you sure you’re okay? The pace of your breathing has increased.”

Ha. Yeah, being blatantly stared at by some godlike man moments after you’ve woken up is totally cool and fine and not overwhelming at all. You’re definitely not breathless from a combination of V’s face and the fact he’d picked you up like you were weightless.

“I’m fine,” you lie. “I’m gonna… go and shower then make breakfast and stuff. Yep.”

V’s eyes light up. “Can I help?” A fleeting image of V rubbing a soapy loofah over your naked skin fills you with spine-tingling trepidation before he finishes his sentence. “I want to learn how to cook.”

Your chest deflates with relief (and absolutely not disappointment), air rushing out of you. Thank God.

“Oh, breakfast? Sure.” You’d been planning on cereal, but faced with V’s overwhelming enthusiasm, maybe you’ll go for something marginally more complicated. Scrambled eggs sound good. “Um. Do you need to download the food preparation package or whatever you mentioned before? Do you… uh, do you need the Wifi password to do that? I never changed it from the random string of letters off the back of the router, but I can go check it for you.”

V shakes his head. “No, I want to learn like a human would,” he says. The blanket in his arms crumples as he tightens his grip in his eagerness, all but bouncing up and down on his feet. “You can teach me.”

Your chest could cave in with how cute he is, every part of you turning to thick gouache that drips down to the floor, leaving a mess of brightness and colour.

This time you ask him to wait in the kitchen while you’re in the bathroom, rather than lurking on the doorstep like he had last night, and he’s practically vibrating with excitement when you reappear. He stays like that the whole time you cook, bright-eyed and bushy tailed, staring as you make yourself scrambled eggs and more toast; you let V take ownership of that part, and he stares at the toaster so intently you have to stifle a laugh.

He spreads butter exactly the same way as you. Not that there’s a specific art to it, or a massive variety in techniques—he’s just spreading butter, not painting a new Mona Lisa—but the way he holds the knife and runs it over the bread is an exact echo of your motions from last night. He might not have downloaded files into his memory (brain?) like another android might, but his mechanical origin is obvious in the way he learns. They’re an exact replication of your actions rather than something new of his own.

“So, uh.” You push the last bit of egg around your plate, brown crumbs sticking to the wedge of golden yellow, sullying it. “V.”

Blink, blink. His lashes are so long, eyes so inquisitive. “Yes?”

“I’m really happy you’re here and that you trust me—” at this, V smiles and you almost fumble over your words at its radiance—“but I feel like I should tell you that I don’t really know much about androids?”

V is unperturbed. “That’s okay. You don’t have to.”

He clearly isn’t bothered that you’re way out of your depth, but you hate feeling lost like this. “Alright, but… I want you to be comfortable. I’m already planning to get more clothes, but if there’s anything else you need, just let me know. Okay?”

“Why can’t I just wear your clothes?”

Oh, he’s going to be the death of you, all wide-eyed innocence.

“For starters, most of them won’t fit properly,” you explain. “And you shouldn’t just have to wear my old stuff that I don’t use anymore? You should have your own things.”

The look of surprise on V’s face morphs into guilt only moments later. He’s so incredibly expressive and you wonder if it’s because he’s not used to feeling things, all of his reactions so strong and bright, shining out from him. A rainbow palette of emotions. “I don’t want to be a bother,” he murmurs. “You’re already doing so much for me.”

“I’m really not, I’m just treating you the way anyone deserves to be treated.” You flick the crumb of egg across your plate, and it almost tumbles over the edge, caught on its patterned rim. “You deserve to have your own things. Which is my next point. I think you should choose your own name.”

V’s face becomes a sea of rippling ambivalence, contrasting emotions that shift and vary—confusion, uncertainty, excitement, your words a brush that drags through each distinct emotion and pulls them into a messy, mismatched gradient. “Choose my own name?”

“You don’t have to. I just thought it might be a nice idea. V seems…” Your cheeks heat up at the memory of the curl of his lips when he’d shown you the meaning behind his alias, how his tongue had shined under the purple lights of the club. “Well, you didn’t get to choose it, right? It’s a nom de plume, rather than a real name.”

V’s LED flickers yellow, a sunflower that blooms on his temple. “I’ll… I’ll think about it.”

“Good!” Your smile is wide. “Okay, how about I teach you how to wash dishes?”

V is, unsurprisingly, a fast learner. The only time he stumbles over things is when he’s presented with any sort of choice, taking his time to come to a decision when he’s posed a question, no matter how simple it is. His eyes will flick to you whenever he settles on an answer, as if waiting for you to say he’s wrong or that you disagree.

(Of course, you never do.)

This fact does, however, mean that choosing clothes to buy becomes a very, very long ordeal (it’s lucky you didn’t have any plans for today). You end up flopped back on the sofa while V hunches over your tablet, mulling over each choice before he puts it in the cart—but you’re happy to wait. V is going to need a lot more practice at choosing things.

The room is upside down from where your head is hanging over the armrest, eyes falling shut as time goes by, completely zoned out and comfortable despite the crick that’s growing in your neck. You hear V shifting, tablet set aside, and you hum.

“All done?”

“I think so.”

“Nice.” You feel content.

But then you’re ripped out of that warm feeling, shooting back to reality at the sensation of V’s hand stroking down the centre of your chest. Your head snaps up, eyes wide as he drags his large palm between the valley of your breasts, path smoothed by the material of your shirt. The expression on his face is sultry.

“Let me say thank you,” he murmurs, voice dripping thick and sweet, dark molasses.

You promptly roll off the sofa.

Once again, you end up on your back, staring at the ceiling. Once again, the expression on V’s face is one of concern, his seductive facade evaporated in an instant.

Once again your heart is ready to burst in your chest, pumping so hard that blood rushes in your ears. “V,” you wheeze. “What are you doing?”

The android is peering down at you, puzzled. “Sometimes customers would say that at the Eden Club after I had given them pleasure somehow, such as bringing them to orgasm. I thought it was human custom to repay pleasure or happiness with something in return.”

Ah.

“Ah.” You’re still staring at the ceiling, cheeks burning. “I mean. I guess that’s not technically incorrect, but it doesn’t necessarily have to be a, uh, sexual repayment.”

“I have nothing else to offer,” V says.

You sit up. Your face is a caricature of disbelief, embarrassment washed away in an instant, his words cold water that shocks you to the core. He states it so plainly, and once again you’re reminded of his life up until he’d made his way to your door: an automaton who existed solely for people’s pleasure, to slake their desire and lust. He’s not being self-pitying. He really, truly believes that’s all he is. That it’s all he can give back to the world.

“Okay, no, that’s absolutely not true, nuh-uh, I refuse.” This time you unfold yourself from the floor without V’s help, fixing him with a firm stare. “Alright, come on. I think it’s time you learned something else.”

One of the reasons you’d chosen this apartment is for its natural light. Not that it matters right now, weather outside still dismal and overcast, but its effect on this room is still palpable even so—grey, rain-soaked light throws itself over your small home studio, your menagerie of equipment, everything bright with the evidence of use: the worn buckles of the wooden storage boxes, the dried smears on the paint palette, the flecks of colour on the dust sheets underfoot. The centre of it all—the eye of the tornado, untouched by the relative chaos around it—is the canvas waiting on your easel, a project you have yet to start.

V looks utterly enraptured.

“I don’t really come in here as much as I’d like,” you admit. Being a graphic designer is worlds away from the sort of art you love to create, and while it’s a job you genuinely enjoy (and also pays well), it leaves you drained and fills your brain with tired static, little energy left to lavish on your personal works. “But this is where the magic happens. And this is where you’re going to Make Art.”

V freezes. “The only things I know about art are the things you told me when we first met.” He looks equal parts excited but also troubled. “I—”

“You don’t need to know about art to make art,” you say. “I didn’t know jack about art when I was a kid and I was constantly just scribbling away with crayons. Was it good? No. I was a kid with zero pen control, it was pretty crap. Was it worth my time? Yes, because any time spent involved in a craft is never wasted. We can learn more about art history and technique later.”

V stays quiet as you loop your apron over his head, rough material still bearing the remnants of your last works, stains that won’t come out. Oil based paints are kind of a bitch like that.

“I don’t know what to paint,” he says.

“That’s okay. You don’t have to,” you reply, an echo of his earlier words.

V looks lost, barefoot in your studio, in your clothes, your apron, holding onto your wooden paint palette, in front of your easel. Everything in here is yours. Everything, that is, apart from him, whatever is in his mind and heart.

“Where do I start?” V’s eyes are imploring as he looks at you, but for the first time today, your voice is firm.

“Wherever you want. There aren’t any rules. Just do whatever you think would be fun. It doesn’t have to look good, V, you’ve just started.”

You’ve seen paintings made by androids before. They’re always perfect recreations of the world around them, exact replicas of the things they’ve been told to depict on the page—the androids are basically glorified photocopiers, unable to create something original and new.

But they’re not V. They don’t have that spark of curiosity and light inside them, unhampered by the programming that’s meant to keep them in place. His LED dances from yellow to blue, yellow to blue, the rest of his body motionless while the light on his temple is a tumult of movement and colour.

Dark eyes slide over the array of paint hanging from a rack on the wall, some metal tubes more crushed than others, evidence of your preferred shades—you notice how his gaze lingers on the midnight tones, red and blue tinted purples, from lavender to lilac, from plum to wine.

V gives you one more look, a little upturn to his thick brows—almost pleading—and you just gesture with your hand.

“Go for it,” you say.

Your wooden palette becomes home to a riot of purple, each tube squeezed empty with careful hands, far more paint than anyone could possibly ever need. V keeps flicking you glances, but you stay silent, perched on a wooden chair by the now open window, rain-slick air a cold breath on your skin.

The brush the android selects is a wide, bold thing, bristles rough. He handles it like bone china, delicate and liable to shatter any moment, cautious as he dips it into the paint—it’s so wide it picks up three separate shades—and he holds his breath as he brings it up, even if he doesn’t have lungs.

The second the bristles touch the canvas, V’s LED flickers red.

Just for an instant.

He swoops the brush down the canvas as he pulls it away, eyes wide, leaving a slash of purples in its wake. The white material is marred with colour, a textured line of pigment that can’t be erased.

The android pauses as he takes the sight in. He’s still for so long that you’re worried he’s shut down, even with the endlessly dancing circle of his LED—

But then V laughs.

His laugh is loud and bright and free, a series of deep, almost surprised chuckles that grow in intensity and breathlessness, staring at this smear of drying acrylic paint in front of him. The smile on his face is the widest you’ve seen so far, his eyes squeezed into crescents of joy, spilling out of him like light.

“I did that.” He looks at you with that gilded smile, a fresco of delight across the perfection of his features. “I made that.”

“You did.” You can’t help but smile back, your own face split with happiness. You continue to smile as he brings the brush back to the palette, and then to the canvas, dragging the bristles across its surface and leaving more purple behind; the shades swirl and mix as he lays colour without a care for technique or clean lines or form, scooping up the endless amounts of acrylic he’d prepared. By the time he’s finished, the canvas is bumpy with daubs of paint, laid messily by joyful hands, a few bold streaks of unmarred colour surrounded by swirling purples.

The smile hasn’t left V’s face the whole time.

His brush is absolutely saturated, paint clinging to every inch of bristle, from toe to belly to heel. You have no doubt that no matter how much you clean that brush it’ll leak purple into the water, an endless reminder of V’s touch. It’s lax in his grasp as he keeps looking at the canvas, his canvas, smile etched into his face as his LED flows soft blue, content.

You can’t remember the last time you saw someone so elated, buoyed up with the excitement of creation, making something out of nothing, discovering how it feels to bring something into existence, pulling it out of the ether. Making something new. Making something their own. It stirs something in your chest and stomach, reminding you why you love art so much. Why you’ve always loved art. (Why you always will.)

“I made that,” V repeats, his voice a reverent hush. Awestruck.

“It’s beautiful,” you say, because it is—for a multitude of reasons. The reason that sings out to you the most, though, is that it’s the cause of happiness that dances across his face: V, a carved candle, a piece of art made with skilled hands, self-made joy finally catching fire at his wick.

“Thank you,” V says, and you blink.

“For what?”

“For giving me this,” he starts, but before you can interject and point out that you didn’t give him this, he made it, he continues: “For giving me… freedom. To do this. And make this. And learn this.”

The smile that spreads across your face is warm hearth fire. “I didn’t give you freedom, V, you gave that to yourself, but I’m happy to help you any way I can. Now, would you like to keep painting, or would you prefer to help me make dinner?”

He chooses dinner, never leaving your side.

Sunday is nice. There's less messy limbed surprise than on Saturday, although you’re still off kilter when you wake up with your head in V’s lap again, but… it’s nice.

You thought he’d spend the night painting, or drawing, or teaching himself something new using the free rein you’d given him with your computer and notebooks and stationery and art supplies—he doesn’t have to waste time with sleep, like you do—but he hadn’t. He’d climbed into your bed, settling against the pillows just like the night before, looking at you with his big, lovely eyes.

So here he is.

(And here you are.)

It’s cosy and comfortable, even if the feeling of warm skin under warm cotton against your cheek sets your heart to racing, V’s dark eyes even warmer when you roll over to look at his face.

“Morning,” he says.

“Morning,” you reply, and then you yawn, V’s lashes fluttering as he takes in the motion. “What time is it?”

Today’s rain is less of an endless downpour and more of an inconsistent drizzle, grey blanket slowly peeling away from the edges of the city, but it doesn’t matter, because you’re inside for most of the day, anyway. Saturday was hands-on, messy with acrylic and spilled coffee and laundry detergent (V really wants to learn everything), but Sunday is hands-off. You spend the day dredging the corners of your memory and scrolling through old, untouched files from your university years, so you can teach V the things he wants to know while relearning the things you’d forgotten yourself.

V’s little LED dances forever from blue into yellow, ocean waves lapping into sand, a shifting tide as he takes in your words. You’ve never had to teach someone before and you’re admittedly pretty terrible at it, but he never complains, the world’s most attentive and adorable student, sat on the floor with his legs crossed and his hair mussed and his eyes wide, drinking down everything you show him.

You only leave the apartment once. Lunch is delayed when you open your fridge and remember how bereft and sad it is inside, so you venture out into the rain to the nearby supermarket—V opts to stay indoors, LED flickering red at the idea of being caught, shying back.

You leave him looking lost and lonely before the door even finishes swinging shut behind you, long limbs looking even longer in your clothes, but somehow still so small.

“I won’t be long,” you promise.

When you get back, you return not only with bags of food but also clothes, V’s order from yesterday already shipped and delivered. He can finally replace your too-small clothing with things he’s chosen himself. It’s a fumble to get in the door, but the android is waiting for you, swinging it open and catching the bag you nearly drop in surprise.

“I have your clothes,” you announce. “I’ll put away the shopping while you try them on?”

You’re going to have to tattoo a reminder on your forehead about V’s relationship (or lack thereof) with clothes, because of course he takes this as an invitation to start stripping before you’ve even had a chance to take your shoes off.

He does that thing where he grabs the back of his (your) shirt and pulls it over his head in one swift motion, curls of hair a cloud of smoke that settles around his face as the shirt is cast aside; you’re frozen in place as he reaches for the knot of his sweatpant’s drawstring, long fingers pulling it loose, but you let out a sharp meep just as his fingers hook into the waistband of them.

“PleasewaituntilI’mnotrightinfrontofyouthankyou,” you gasp all at once, words incoherent as they slide together, but V understands. He tilts his head at you inquisitively although he (thankfully) stops.

“Don’t you want to see the clothes?”

“I do, but, uh, for humans it’s normally customary to only get entirely naked or change clothes when you’re alone.” Your heart is going to burst out of your chest with how fast it’s racing. Without the string to cinch the sweatpants tight they’re starting to fall a little, revealing the delicate lines of his hip bones, and coupled with the reappearance of V’s bare stomach, your brain is going into meltdown. “So just—just give me a sec to go to the kitchen, okay? You’re probably better off changing in the bedroom, anyway, so you can use the full length mirror to see how you look.”

“Okay,” he says, but then: “Do humans never undress around others unless they’re planning to have sex?”

Your mouth falls open before you pause, words halting on your lips as you try to think of the best way to phrase your answer. “Well, we do, it’s not just about sex, but it’s usually only if you’re really comfortable with the other person you’re with, and they’re comfortable with you.”

“I’m comfortable with you,” V states plainly, and your insides turn to jelly. “Are you not comfortable with me?”

Oh, hell. “I am, I am! I’m just, uh… I’ve not really had a lot of practice with nakedness around other people.” What a way to put that you’re a shy ass virgin when it comes to real life nudity and sex, huh. “So let’s just keep it to a minimum for now, okay? Please?”

The android’s LED flickers honey-sweet on his temple as he looks at you, before his hands fall away from the sweatpants. “Okay.”

(Thank God.)

You’re not sure what you’re expecting to see when V starts to present his small array of outfits to you, but—he looks effortlessly stylish in the oversized clothes he’s selected, a muted palette of brown and yellow and red and cream, a cup of hot chocolate on an autumn day. He might be new to all this but his eye for aesthetic is impeccable. You have no doubt that the more he learns, the better he’ll get, hop-skip-jumps ahead of you, even after years of art education.

He’s even bought pyjamas, dark tartan patterns masculine but also adorable; it’s an utter juxtaposition to the tighter, sensual clothing he’d been given at the Eden Club.

“You look really good,” you tell him. Your voice is only a little strained. He smiles.

The outfit V wears for the rest of the afternoon is perfect for a rainy day spent indoors, thick jumper and tawny trousers, a blend of sepia tones. He looks like if you made a hug into a person: all soft edges and cosy and wrapped up in warmth.

And V is warm. You’re not sure if it’s a lingering memory of his programming, a carry over from his start in life as a sexbot, but he likes to touch—nothing inappropriate or overbearing, but he’s not shy about stepping into your personal space, brushing the back of your hand with his fingers as he points at something on the screen, or pressing close to your side as you cook, or just one of the hundreds of other tiny touches that he’s littered across you throughout the day. It’s thoughtless on his part, LED not even flickering, but each time is just another reminder of his warmth, the blue blood pulsing under his skin, how alive he is.

(And the truth is that you enjoy those touches. You’re not used to them, but lord knows you’re touch starved, so as fleeting as they are, they’re nice.)

Even though you still leave plenty of space between the two of you when you lay to sleep, you swear you can feel the heat spilling off V, another warm body in the bed that’s so used to just one. Though he stays sitting up, he’s in his cute matching pyjamas, and it’s… it’s a lot. You’ve invited V into your home—and you don’t regret it—but after two days he’s already settled in in a way you never thought anyone else would, as entirely unconventional as the whole situation is. (You’re not sure how many people have sheltered a deviant android in their homes, though, so maybe this isn’t as unconventional as you think. Who knows? Not you.)

“I have to go to work tomorrow.”

V tilts his head down to look at you.

“You can get up to whatever you’d like,” you continue. You’re propped up on an elbow so it’s less intimate than if you’d been on your back and staring upwards like you were waiting for him to slide down next to you (that’s what it feels like, to you, anyway). “You know the password for my computer now, and you’re welcome to watch TV or play games or whatever, and you can use all my stuff in the studio. I mean, other than painting or drawing over stuff I’ve already finished, but you’re welcome to grab any paper or canvases if you want them. I think that’s everything? But please let me know if there’s more you want or need, okay?”

Blink, blink. His lashes are soft charcoal that frames the spilled ink of his gaze. In the dimmed light of your room V is unreadable, his LED a quiet blue glow on his temple, but he looks soft, and he looks safe, and he nods.

“Alright,” he says. A smile that flickers at the edge of his lips. “I will.”

(You wake up, quiet and slow, face pillowed against V’s thigh, still drifting in sleep. You make a small noise, eyes shut, wondering why there’s no blaring sound of your alarm, but then a large hand smooths over your hair and you instinctively relax under the soft touch.

“You have thirty three minutes until you’re due to wake up,” he murmurs. “You can go back to sleep.”

So you do.)

(When you wake up to the scream of your alarm thirty three minutes later, you don’t remember any of this. All you can think of is the dawn of another Monday, the slog of another working week, and you sigh. But—

“Morning.”

V’s eyes are dark meok ink, liquid earth that grounds you.

“Morning,” you say, smiling despite yourself, and then roll out of bed to get the whole day started.)

You’re used to spending a day surrounded by laughter and banter, wrapped up in the camaraderie of your co-workers and friends, only to return to a world of quiet solitude. You’re used to coming home to rooms that are untouched from the morning, holding onto the echo of your passing, still and waiting for your return, an apartment of motionless air.

But not today. There’s evidence of someone else here: the open door to your studio down the hall, the scattered books on the coffee table, the mess of cushions on the sofa, all small signs that someone has been moving and living in your absence. A still-life that’s shifted into a breathing trompe l’oeil, V’s presence bringing flatness into perspective, turning it into something real.

It’s… nice.

You flop onto the sofa and send one of those cushions overboard, tumbling to the ground. V appears in the doorway moments later, new apron already streaked with colour, copper green thumbprint on his face like he’d touched it in thought and not realised. A little streak of paint that draws the eye to his lovely chin.

“Welcome home!” His hair is blond today, a golden nimbus around his face, though his eyes are still dark. Light and shadow. His happiness is infectious and you smile helplessly back, glad for his excitement with painting—but it seems like he hasn’t finished. “I’m happy you’re home. I missed you.”

KO. Wipeout. Your heart turns to liquid in your chest, burnt sugar that dribbles hot and saccharine through your ribs.

“I chose a name.” V continues, oblivious to how he’s turned your insides into syrup, and you abruptly sit up.

“Oh?”

“Taehyung.” The way he says it, in his deep voice, those two syllables are endless—a single name, heavy with the weight of meaning behind it. A shedding of his old skin, one that was forced on him, leaving him pink-skinned and new and free.

“Taehyung,” you repeat, and his LED flickers at the sound falling off your lips. “Taehyung. It’s lovely.”

He’s smiling, that lovely toothy smile that you’ve already decided is your favourite out of any smile you’ve seen, his LED electric blue and swirling in delight.

Day after day, you wake up to the sight of that LED glowing as Taehyung watches you lift up out of sleep. Night after night, you come home to his lovely, big grin, all large hands and soft hair—hair that he chooses to change colour when he pleases, a dizzying palette with every shade you can dream of. He’s bright and deep, playful and reflective, a dance of flirty Rococo to more solemn Baroque, every day another day where he learns and grows and adds another facet to the cut diamond of his personality.

(It hasn’t been long but you’re starting to think you’d put the world in the palm of his hand, if you could.)

You never thought you’d live to see the day where someone as lovely as Taehyung would be glad to see you home, having missed you after being apart—but for all that he’s voraciously leaning into the arts, consuming everything from visual to literary to performance, he’s never happier than when you’re there too. He shows you his works, improvement obvious with every new piece, but his excitement grows tenfold when you start to paint alongside him; seeing him so joyful spurs you to pick your brushes up again, buoyed up with motivation in the face of his own.

(Your studio is usually quiet, a little reflective maybe, the only sound the music you play over your speakers—but now more often than not you and Taehyung will talk, and laugh, and even if you’ve both ebbed into silence, it’s never heavy. It’s a held breath. The potential to speak any moment. The sensation of another person in the same space as you, an orbit, both existing in a shared moment, connected by gossamer threads that shimmer with sunlight.

Taehyung’s eyes are steady on his canvas as he works, but he glances at you through the curl of his lashes, smiling back at you. Always, always smiling, LED calm blue as the rest of his face shines golden, bright.)

(Maybe it’s selfish, but you think you could get used to this.)

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