#anyway! fun to see what the first fic was

[maika-aika]

Hellooo! Your writing is sooo fun to read that I've been rereading it multiple times now🤭🤭🤭 sooo I kinda wanted to request another post about reader fighting back against the bullies with crowe this time if that's okay, and take your time!

(ps, it's also okay if you ignore this, i hope you have a wonderful day/evening/night! ❤️❤️❤️)

GUARDIAN ANGEL

KYAAA THANK U SM GIGGLING TWIRLING MY HAIR KICKING MY FEET ♡!! I LOVE CROWE SO MUCH BROO!!! Did u know my first fic ever posted here was supposed to be with Crowe but I changed it to Sol instead cz I thought ppl wouldn't like it sobsob

☆: "Someone is creeping you out while hanging out with Crowe, surely you should teach them a lesson, no?"

★: Crowe x gn!reader

☆: Contains: Baddie reader yurr !! Downbad Crowe, creepy dudes, post friend group plot, mutual pining I need to breed him

The bell's ring echoed throughout the entire school, indicating lunch time as students hurriedly pack their things to rush towards their friends and eat at the cafeteria. You were calmer than your unruly classmates, screaming and yelling in excitement as they rushed to their groups and cliques. "Its like they've never experienced the lunch bell go off"

You mused to yourself, happy enough to know that you at least have one friend in your school. Yet he still hasn't shown his pretty little face in your classroom yet, usually he'd pick you up and walk you to the cafeteria, but it seems that isn't the case this time.

"Yo, (Name), I usually see your boyfie pick you up at this time, wonder why he isn't here" your seatmate puts his arm on your head, practically using you as an armrest, making you groan and push him away with red dusting your cheeks "Can it! He's not my...boyfriend.."

Your heart rate picked up as you muttered those words as an evident flush on your cheeks got redder, gaining you a knowing stare from your seatmate as a laugh escaped his throat, smacking your back playfully "Yeah. Sure. And I'm the president of the United States," he marked sarcastically, waving his arms dramatically.

You scoffed, standing up from your seat, and walked your way out of the classroom door, ignoring the cheerful yells and encouragements from your seatmate. "Get yo mans!" He echoed out to you, which promptly made you walk faster in embarrassment.

It didn't take you too long to notice him standing by a vending machine. Taking your chance, you tiptoed your way behind him and gipped his shoulders. "There you are!" You yelled, making him flinch in surprise, snapping his head towards you. His shocked expression made you laugh at his dismay.

He merely sighed and shook his head with a small smile on his face, "You're such a tease, (Name)" his voice was smooth as honey, eyes glinting in nothing but adoration. Oh how you looked divine when you laughed.

"Says you! It's not nice to keep me waiting for that long, you know! Hurt my feelings a bit.." you playfully sulked as a joke, but Crowe seemingly took it too seriously, brows furrowing as an apologetic expression dressed his face "I didn't mean to, there were just some things I had to do before going to you"

Seeing his obviously saddened face made you panic a bit "No—! It was a joke, don't worry! I didn't mind looking for you anyway. " You were quick to reassure, trying to ease his worries a bit, but he simply shook his head. "Still, I shouldn't have made you wait so long. You deserve only the best, (Name)"

His voice is so genuine, and how he stared at you sent shivers down your spine. He's always like this, always putting your needs before himself, always putting you on his first priority before anything else. Curse him and his prince-like behavior!

But before you could ask what he was up to, you felt a random hand hit your ass, laughter, and whistles could be heard as you snapped your head towards the source in anger.

A group of sloppy looking men with dirty uniforms and rolled up sleeves showing their tattoos chortled and snorted at you, as if their making fun of you getting angry with their disgusting actions. "Aww, what's wrong, doll? Wasn't hard enough? I can be more rough if you like"

The main, blonde guy leaned in closer to your face as you winced at the strong smell of his breath. Your expression made them laugh harder, giving each other high fives and fists bumps as if making you uncomfortable is an achievement.

"What do you think you're doing...?"

A hand protectively held your shoulder, making you look up. Crowe's eyes were nothing compared to what you're used to. Eyes that were once filled with love and softness were now filled with pure, raw anger. Yet, he was still gentle with you, carefully maneuvering you to stay behind him, protecting you like a shield.

The boys took one glance at him and scanned him head to toe, judging his every move. The blonde whistled and clicked his tongue, staggering towards the taller male "Watch it, golden boy. You may be class rep or whatever bullshit title they gave you. But these parts are my territory, so I make the goddamn fuckin' rules here." He practically spat out, his lackies cheering him on with vulgar words and descriptions.

If Crowe is pissed, then you're seething.

You hated being insulted, yes, but you hated it even more when people belittle those you care about. So without thinking, you stepped forward and faced the blonde head on, catching Crowe off guard.

"My territory! blah blah, you pissed on this school and claimed it yours like a dog then?"

A sound of surprise was heard from the blonde, even gaining a gasp from their lackies. Clearly, they weren't expecting you to fight back. Crowe got worried, fearing that you might be in danger now. "(Name)—"

"You think you're so fucking funny?"

Without knowing, the blonde grabbed you by the collar and slammed you against the vending machine. Hard glass hitting the back of your head made you groan. Yet you still managed to stare at your attacker dead in the eyes, not running away from a fight you intend to win.

He mocked you with a laugh "Doll, you look so cute when you're angry, but one more goddamn word from your mouth and I'm bashing your fucking skull inside this machine" he threatened, his spit sliding onto your face.

"Yeah? 'Cause I'm about to get real fuckin' adorable"

You raised your foot and kicked him between his legs. A pained groan could be heard as he instinctively dropped you back onto your feet, groveling in pain. But before he could fight back, you grabbed his hair and smashed his head so hard onto the vending machine it broke through the glass. Knocking him out.

You dusted yourself off before turning to the two, shivering lackies, huddling together in an attempt to look smaller and hide from your view. "Who's next?" A malicious smile etched your features, making them scream and run away with their tails between their legs, yelling out apologies and pleads for mercy until they disappeared.

You stood still for a moment, taking in a deep breath to ground yourself. Turning your head to look at the blonde's unconscious body and winced "Yikes...didn't mean to hit him that hard" you played with his arm, lifting and dropping it like a toy.

"Yoo, check it out, Crowe! He's now a—"

"Why did you do that?!" You glanced at him in confusion, eyes locking onto wide and worried ones. "Ehh? They were talking smack about you! I had to do something!" You responded with crossed arms and a pout on your lips. "The least you can do is say thank yo—"

Suddenly, you felt arms wrap around your body in a tight hug. You stood there, not fulling processing what's happening. "You're so reckless..." His voice was a whisper, not daring to speak any louder, not daring to let you go. You didn't know that your actions affected him this much. Slowly, you wrapped your arms around his gently.

His breathing eventually calmed down a bit as he let you go. Once again, there's this softness in his eyes, staring right at you as if you held all the stars in the world and placed it all in your eyes, tracing constellations in your gaze. You felt his hand cup your cheek with the same gentle motion, treating you like divinity.

"You don't know how worried I was about you, (Name). Really..." he leaned his forehead onto yours, his other arm wrapping onto your waist, pulling you two closer than before until your bodies are touching so close you could hear each other's heartbeat. And his was racing.

You scoffed, wrapping your arms around his neck. Both of you are in a daze of adrenaline to even process what the two of you are doing, but what mattered right now is each other's company and comfort. "My fault, didn't know I was such a diva" you made light of the situation, earning a sigh from him as he pinched your cheek.

"More like a trouble maker than anything," he retorted, which earned an offended gasp from you and slapped his chest in mock play. "How dare you insult your guardian angel! Oh woe is me. I am so pitiful!" You dramatically leaned back with the back of your hand on your forehead, he laughed at your playfulness and pulled you in closer to spin you around like a waltz dance and dramatically dropped you, his arm supporting your body as his eyes are solely focused on you.

He gently held your other hand and kissed your knuckles with a smile. "Thank you, angel.." he whispered so softly that it was barely audible. Your cheeks flushed as your teasing words died on your throat, rendered absolutely speechless.

You quickly stood up straight and pushed him away in embarrassment, looking away from him as you tried to calm down your beating heart "...That's cheating" you muttered and kicked the cement, glaring holes onto the ground in an attempt to make it seem your unphased by his shameless flirt.

A laugh was heard beside you. Feeling his hand take in yours again as he wordlessly walked you away from the ugly sight you left at the vending machine. Though he is class representative, and it is his job to keep everyone in check, he finds himself making exceptions for you. No matter how brutal you might get. If anyone from his class would have caught him right now, they'd blame him for favoritism.

But what's more shocking is that he doesn't seem to have any need to deny it.

Silently picking up the paper bag he left nearby, leaving you still unaware of what he's holding, Lazer focused on calming your heart. And oh, does he find that absolutely adorable.

Perhaps he will just slip the snacks and drinks he bought for you from the vending machine under your table once you need it.

Chat imma be fr here, lowkey hated this LMAO yrgghh felt like I could've done better but my class starts at 6 and it's already 5:37 HELPPP

[immeasurablesaladagere]

A Wildcard is Active - Team Self-Sufficient

-----

Words: 4973

Series Summery: Set in a hypothetical fourth session of Wild Life in which each player has a 50/50 chance of being turned into a kid (ages 4-8) or remaining an adult for the week. How will the adults manage their tiny teammates? How will they keep them out of trouble? And how dangerous could a red or yellow toddler really be? Told from a variety of group POV’s, all with their own challenges over the course of a hypothetical session 4. 

⭐️ Fun fact! Every character's child/adult role was actually determined by coin toss (head=adult, tails=child)! All of these dynamics were chosen at random and some were pretty perfect. I just had to do it when I saw this pair.

Fic Summery: By a stroke of bad luck, both Gem and Joel end up as children and are determined not to let anyone know. There are reds about, it’s not safe for them to be alone without an adult to protect them. When they run into trouble in a cave, they're forced to ask the Bamboozlers for help.

----

On the first morning of the fourth session, Joel allowed himself to stay in bed just a bit longer and take in the snail-less peace and quiet. No more running about, constantly looking over his shoulder for deadly flying mollusks, just a nice easy doze in the Charger, living the life.

Gem was already up and about, cooking breakfast by the smell of it. Somehow session three had been a breeze for her and now she was going around being all productive. Showoff. 

“Joel! Breakfast is ready!”

As much as he wanted to roll over and doze for another thirty minutes, the start of the session would wait for no man. They only had a short time before the next wildcard activated for the week and they needed to pound back as many calories as possible if they wanted to keep up with whatever craziness Grian had in store this time.

So out of bed and into their makeshift kitchen he went, rubbing the sleep crusties out of his eyes. “Quit your yelling, what if I’d been sleepin’ still?”

“Then you needed to get up anyway. Wildcard rolls in an hour, up and ‘attem!” Gem said with the chipperness of someone who hadn’t spent the last week fearing for her life, and slid two plates of eggs, toast, and bacon onto the table.

“Yeah, yeah. Easy for you to say, you dirty snail-lover.”

“Hey! Who made you breakfast?”

“You’re right, you’re right, I’m sorry.” Joel shovelled a forkful of bacon into his mouth and groaned. “S’really good.”

Gem chuckled. “Well don’t make it weird! Maybe I shouldn’t be cooking for you.”

“No, please, I’ll be eating nothing but bread all season.” He whined. “Seriously, this is great, thanks Gem.”

“Well of course! We’re going to need the energy!” She finished her glass of milk in one go and got up to start putting her dishes away because holy moly, she ate fast. “What’s on the to-do list for today?”

There were about a million answers to that question, seeing as no one got anything done last week. Diamonds, finish the base, make traps, go to the nether; but of course what they’d like to do didn’t matter so much as what they could do once the wildcard hit. “Dunno. Some mining, maybe hit the nether if Grian hasn’t rigged it to explode or sumfing. I need redstone and gunpowder.”

“Ooo, yeah, the nether sounds good. I don’t know if they’ve found the fortress yet, so maybe there’s still some potion stuff left.” 

The moment the last piece of toast was in his mouth Gem was snatching his plate out from under him and dumping it in the sink.

“Oi!”

She stuck her tongue out at him. 

Well, might as well get started on the list. “If gonna try to finish the base while nofing’s going on, head’s up for falling deepslate in here!”

“If you get rock dust in my kitchen I’ll put you on yellow!” She called after him.

The base was coming along nicely, it just needed a few finishing touches. Trim here and there, polish the windows, sand off a few edges. He grabbed his tools from the starter base and climbed up onto the hood of the car. Maybe he could even finish before the session started.

-

“Joel! Wildcard!”

He could not. Joel sighed and set down his tools as the colourful ellipses appeared in his vision and Gem came outside. They had to be prepared for anything, and it was much safer to find out the gimmick together. They both braced for the worst. Floor is lava? Levitation? Permanent nighttime? More snails?

A Wildcard is Active.

The two of them did a hasty once-over of themselves. 

“Hearts and hunger are the same,” Gem reported.

“No effects, and you’re not dying right now so no floor-is-lava. Darn, I was hoping for that one.” He didn’t feel any different, and nothing around them seemed immediately strange. It was almost more unsetting that he couldn’t pinpoint the twist right away. 

“You were hoping I would die?” Gem asked incredulously.

“No, no, but you know what I mean. I was so sure that’d be one of them!” He patted himself down. “I don’t feel weird. Do I look weird?”

“More than normal? No.” She smirked.

“Wow, rude!”

He was about to accept that maybe Grian had miraculously decided to do something low-key this session. Maybe it was nether-based or mob-based and wouldn’t be nearly as big a deal as the murder snails and the hunger. Sure, it would put a mild spanner in the works but they would live. But then he felt it. His entire body suddenly felt… buzzy. Like pins and needles all over.

“Um, actually… Maybe I do feel a bit weird…” 

Gem shifted from foot to foot, rubbing a hand up and down her arms. “You feel it too? What is that?” Her eyes widened. Uh oh. “Oh my— Joel, you’re smoking!”

“I know that Gem, but I’m married so—“ Oh. Sure enough, his arms were giving off a faint purple mist, and now that he noticed it, so was Gem. “Woah, you’re smoking too! What on earth is this? Gah, I hate this feeling!”

In seconds the smoke went from tiny wisps to thick fog that surrounded him completely, and he could just barely make out Gem disappearing behind her own cloud as the smoke consumed him and everything went dark.

Then a moment later he was back again, lying face down on the car and tingly all over. He groaned. Was it weakness? Why did he feel like he was just tossed around by a ravager? He went to sit up and was rocked by a wave of dizziness. “Ugh, oh dear…” He mumbled, and then slowly his words caught up to his spinny brain. 

Something was wrong with his voice. It was higher, and weirder. 

“Joel!?” Came a squeaky cry from the ground, one that sounded eerily familiar. 

He shuffled forward to the edge of the base and oh, that was a long way down. Standing in a fun-size suit of armour and using a sword much too big for her to prop herself up was Gem. Tiny Gem. She looked no older than seven, maybe eight at the absolute most.

“Gem! What’s happened to you?” He called down, and yeah, his voice was definitely wrong. 

“Me? What about you? You’re teeny!”

He took a proper look at himself and his new tiny body, squishy arms, and stubby hands. Oh, this was terrible. 

“Are we all kids? Is that the twist!? That’s horrible!” How were they supposed to survive like this!?

Gem fumbled to pull out her spyglass and looked across the field to their neighbours. “No, not everyone! Tango’s still big over there, but Etho and Bdubs are little!”

“So only some of us? And we both get made into stupid toddlers? That’s not fair!” He pouted.

Their communicators were suddenly flooded with messages, mostly panicked gibberish from everyone who had been baby-fied and gushing from everyone who hadn’t. From the looks of it every group had at least one normal adult; between Scott, Cleo, Pearl, and Impulse there were three, except for them.

“This is bad, right?” Gem asked nervously, “There’s yellows and reds and if they know we don’t have someone protecting us… what if they kill us?” Joel hadn’t even thought of that. “Come  down from there, we should find a place to hide!”

He went to climb down, but stopped when he saw the steep drop down the windshield to the ground. Suddenly his stomach was twisting into knots and he couldn’t bring himself to slide down. “Uh…”

“What’s wrong?” Gem asked with a look of growing worry, “Are you… scared?”

Joel’s ears burned. “N-no! Just, um…” So it was messing with their heads as well.

Gem seemed to understand, and careful to stay out of sight from their nosy neighbours, she crept around to the front of the car and built up a few blocks. When she got close enough, she held out her arms for him to slide into. “I’ll catch you.”

Absolutely not. He would rather die right then and there. “I don’t need your help!” 

Gem rolled her eyes. “Sure you don’t, now come on, before someone sees us!” She hissed.

Without much of a choice, Joel took a deep breath and pushed himself down the hood of the car with a squeak and landed safely in Gem’s arms. Once he was safely back on solid ground, she immediately began to manhandle him.

“C’mon, c’mon!” She dragged him by the hand to their starter base and to his dismay, she was indeed much taller than he was, and she was able to pull him like he was a bundle of feathers. “Grab as much food and stuff as you can.” She said, and began rifling through their chests.

“Wha— okay, where’re we going?” The chests were so hugehe almost couldn’t reach into the bottom and he had to stand on his tip-toes to reach a pile of bread.

“We’re gonna hide underground. No one’s gonna wanna come look for us down there.” Gem said, like she’d thought the whole thing through already. She dropped a stack of torches and loose coal into her inventory.

“For all week? That’s a long time.” He pointed out.

“Yeah, I know, that’s why we’re getting all this stuff. We can come back up for food if we really gotta, but we can’t let anyone know that we’re both kids. That’d be super bad.”

Joel snickered. “You’re talkin’ funny.”

She scoffed, offended. “Am not! And don’t be mean to your elders!”

“You are not my elder! Look at you!”

“Uh-huh, and what does that make you? Look how small you are compared to me! You’re just a baby!” She teased, ruffling his hair.

“Oi, you—“

“—Gem? Joel? Are you here?”

They froze. Bdubs. And where there was Bdubs, there was Tango, and Tango was red. Gem hurried them to the wall and dug into it, boxing them in. They both held their breaths as multiple sets of feet walked around their base, and for some reason the whole thing felt a lot scarier than it should’ve been.

“Awe, they’re not here.” Bdubs.

“Do you think they’re kids, too?” Etho.

“Oh, I wanna see kid-Joel so bad! I bet he’d be real tiny.”

“C’mon Dubs, let’s go find the others.”

The footsteps walked away, and they both let out a sigh of relief.

“Let’s dig down.” Gem whispered. She lit a torch and the little box they were crammed in filled with light, which he liked a lot more than the dark. Joel tried his best to stay out of her way as she began to dig a tunnel down, and he was put on torch-duty, keeping it lit all the way down.

After what felt like forever, they finally hit a cave. It was really dark, which was both good and bad. Good because it meant no one had been there yet, and bad because Joel was very quickly learning his little kid brain didn’t like the dark very much.

“I don’t hear any monsters.” Gem said, peering into the hole, “Gimme the torches.” She took one more look around, then scooted down from their safe ledge into the cave. The torch in her hand lit up the walls around them just enough for him to see just how much further the cave went. It was already huge, but it seemed even huger because they were so small. The empty void made his stomach feel fluttery. He took out his sword and gripped it tight.

“Put the torches down, Gem! So the mobs don’t spawn!” He said urgently. Gem turned around and raised an eyebrow at him.

“You’re really jumpy, huh?” She smiled.

“I-I’m not! We just have to be careful. What— w-what if mobs do more damage ‘cause we’re tiny? Didjya ever think of that, Ms. Not— uh, Afraid?”

It was meant to be a jab but she just started giggling. “This is adorable. You look so pouty!” 

She was so busy laughing at his expense she didn’t notice the creeper emerging from the darkness and scuttling towards her.

“Gem, watch out!” 

She whirled around just in time to pull up her shield before the creeper blew up in her face and sent her staggering back into the wall. 

“Are you okay!?” He called, timidly crouching over the ledge. 

Gem chuckled nervously, brushing off some of the stone bits that got on her clothes and hair. “Yep, all good! Maybe the torches are a good idea…”

As Gem placed down torches he cautiously climbed down into the cave, keeping a sweaty hold on the handle of his shield. He hated just how blummin’ nervous he felt. He shouldn’t have cared if it was dark or if there might be monsters lurking around the corner, but suddenly the thought of leaving the light and Gem’s side was the worst thing ever. Stupid kid brain, stupid kid body. 

“Okay! We’re okay, we’re fine.” She chirped, “We’ve got torches, an’ our swords and shields, we’ll be fine.” It sounded like she was telling herself that just as much as she was telling him, which strangely did make him feel better. At least we wasn’t the only scaredy-cat, even if Gem was better at hiding it than him. “Let’s go find some iron. We might even be deep enough to find diamonds!”

Right. Diamonds, iron, focus on that. “We’re gonna be so rich, Gem. All those silly fools up there are gonna be freakin’ out about being stupid babies and we’re gonna have full diamond!”

“There, that’s the spirit. Do you— um...” She offered her hand to him with a small smile. “You can be our shield, and I’ll protect us with the sword. How’s that sound?”

Joel scowled at her hand and reluctantly, to the death of his pride, took it. This was the worst day. He was going to have a talk with Grian when this was all over. The jerk was probably an adult as well, knowing him and the stupid universe. “Fine. But only for teamwork.”

“Teamwork.” Gem agreed, and they descended into the darkness.

-

“See? That wasn’t so bad, was it?” Gem asked, throwing a few more loose pieces of wood into their little campfire.

It wasn’t. Sure, the dark still wasn’t very nice and they hadn’t had much luck with diamonds, but their trek through the cave got them a lot of iron, nearly a stack between them. “I wasn’t worried. I knew we were gonna be fine the whole time.” 

“Uh-huh. And when you screamed like a girl ‘cause you saw a spider you were totally gonna take it down, right?”

He nodded, dumping as much raw iron as he could fit into the furnace. “Yep, you just got their first. Silly Gem, stealin’ my kills.”

Even though he’d been trying not to think about it, he appreciated what Gem was doing. Both of their minds were being affected by the wildcard, but it was embarrassingly obvious that he had it worse, probably because he seemed to be the ‘younger’ of the two of them. And all the while dealing with her own nervousness and keeping them safe, she was talking to him like a normal person and keeping him steady. The good-natured ribbing they exchanged kept everything feeling light when the scary cave sounds started to get to him, and she wasn’t being overbearing or babying him. It was almost like session one again; a normal day, just ever so slightly shorter than two blocks tall.

“Here, pork chop’s ready.” Gem passed him a stick with a cut of cooked pork chop skewered on it. Even without any seasonings, it smelled delicious.

“Fanks, Gem.” He devoured the whole thing in a few large bites, much to Gem’s disgust. One of the few upsides to being so small was that they were going through much less food than usual, and one pork chop was all he needed to feel properly full again. 

“So,” He burped, “We’re really gonna stay down here all week?”

Gem nodded and started making something on the crafting table. “Thas’ the plan.”

“Aw, but that’s a bit boring, isn’t it? I wanna have some fun too…” He kicked a little stone away and the clacking echoed off the walls.

“Do you wanna have fun, or do you wanna stay alive?”

How could she be so tiny and still act like such a mum? “Stay alive, I guess.” He pouted.

She turned around and laid a thin wool sleeping bag on the floor with the tiniest pillow Joel had ever seen. “That’s what I thought. I’ll take first watch. I didn’t bring enough wool, so sorry it’s not very good...” 

There was no way he could be upset about the sleeping bag, not when she was making that face. If they were on the surface, Joel was sure Gem could get them whatever they wanted just by giving someone puppy eyes. “No, no, it’s fine! It looks super comfy, in fact.” He crawled over to it and nestled inside to show her. Stones dug into his back. “See? I could fall asleep right now.” He made an exaggerated yawn.

Gem chuckled. “I ‘precicate it, but you don’t hav’ta lie. Your pudgy little face doesn’t hide anything.”

“Going to sleep now!” He yelled, turning over and pressing his face into the pillow. “Honk-shoo, honk-shoo, see? Sleeping.”

“Have a good sleep, Joel.”

-

“Joel, get up, get up, come on!”

Joel barely had time to remember where he was before a hand grabbed him roughly by the wrist and then they were running. His half-asleep legs stumbled to catch up and Gem was half-dragging him, and between his bleary eyes and the unlit cave he could barely see where they were going.

“Gem, what on earth— what’s going on!? What are we runni—“ Two arrows whizzed past his head much too close for comfort, and that woke him up.

“There were so many, I—I couldn’t kill them all!” Gem exclaimed. They took a hard left at a fork and two more zombies joined the chase from the right. There were at least six mobs behind them, probably more. There was no time to pull out their shields, they’d surely be overwhelmed instantly, which meant they’d just have to find a place to hide.

“Gem this is bad, this is so bad!”

Gem cried out as an arrow lodged itself in her shoulder, and then another. “I-I know, I know, keep running!”

They rounded another corner and skidded to a halt. Dead end. Joel raised his shield to catch another arrow but the mobs were getting close fast. They were dead. 

He yelped as Gem grabbed him by the scruff and pushed him into a corner. “Ow! Gem, what—?” She began haphazardly surrounding him in cobblestone, and Joel’s stomach dropped. “Wait, G-Gem, what are you— what are you doing?”

“I’m low, my shield’s almost gone,” She panted, and her splitting shield took another hit, this time from the zombie at the head of the pack gnawing viciously at the wood. “Stay in here, I’ll come back for you, okay?”

“Gem, no!” His heart was pounding. He could only see a sliver of Gem’s scared but resigned expression through the gap now. More zombies caught up, groaning and forcing her back. “Gem—!”

The last block slid into place and he was plunged into darkness just as the message rang out.

Geminitay was slain by a zombie

-

This wildcard is a nightmare.

Jimmy watched, exhausted, as Lizzie tried to coach Scar up a tree for the third time. While a good “parent” might have stopped it by now, falling out of a tree was about the safest thing they had been up to over the last twenty-four hours. If all he had to do was pass out snacks for regen every time Scar fell, that was fine by him.

He truly believed Grian’s games simply hated him personally. Why else would he be the only adult in his team? Theyellow life, the canary, the one who attracted death, keeping two children safe. What was the universe thinking? And of course in all the nonsense he hardly had any time to think about how he was going to get his next kill. Lizzie had been trying to help, but most of her ideas ended up drifting in a fantastical or hypothetical Jimmy-is-suddenly-amazing-at-pvp scenario and hadn’t come to fruition. 

“Jimmy, look! I made it!” 

Sure enough, Scar had finally managed to clamber up next to Lizzie on the branch, smiling proudly down at him.

“Wow, look at that! Don’t fall, please, I’m running out of bread!”

“I won’t, I’m being very careful.” Scar waved him off, then wobbled and caught himself. “See? Careful.”

“Mm-hm.”

Bzz-bzzt.

Oh? What’s gone on now? He pulled out his communicator.

Geminitay was slain by a zombie

<Smajor1995: ???>

<Grian: red/yellow kill??>

<BDoubleO100: gem’s baby I kno it>

Huh. Gem and Joel had been missing for the entire session so far, and for her to die to a zombie of all things, she must have been seriously caught off-guard. Or small, came the thought, but even then Joel probably would have been looking after her, what with his whole “family” bit. Was he seriously being a better parent than Joel right now? He smiled to himself. What an idea.

And so, continuing his streak of great parenting, he went back to supervising. 

“Wo-OAH!”

And down Scar went, taking Lizzie with him and hitting the ground with a thump. 

“Owwww, Scaaar! That hurt!” Lizzie whined.

“Sorry, sorry! I was tryin’a get higher!”

Jimmy just sighed and fished two more loaves of bread from his inventory. “Come on now, no arguing, just take your bread.”

Thankfully, even though Lizzie and Scar had proven themselves to be quite the tiny squabblers so far, the snacks seemed to settle them enough to just sticking their tongues out at one another and throwing crumbs. It was in the middle of their picnic when he heard someone yelling his name, and he turned to see Gem running towards him. Sure enough, she was a kid maybe the same age as Lizzie, and she looked all out of sorts.

“Gem! Where’ve you been, eh? What’s going on?”

“Y-You gotta— you—“ She gasped, out of breath and stumbling over her words, “You— we need help!”

Jimmy raised an eyebrow. “What? Slow down, who’s ‘we’? You and Joel?”

Gem nodded quickly. “We— we were in a cave and I was s’posed to protect him b-but I couldn’t an’ there w-were so many mobs an’—!“

“Hey, hey, woah, easy.” He knelt down in front of her and put his hands on her small shoulders. This was still so weird. “Deep breaths, ready? In…” She took a harsh breath in. “Out.” She released it. “Now, tell me what’s happened.”

Gem swallowed hard and Jimmy swore he could see the faintest hint of tears forming in her eyes. “Me and Joel are b-both kids, a-and I said we should hide ‘cause we had no adult to protect us so we went into a cave. I-It was my idea an’ I was s’posed to keep him safe, b-but there were so many mobs and—and I di-died and now Joel’s trapped down there and it’s all my fault!” She blurted, and a few stray tears fell down her cheeks.

Oh boy. “Well, that is a lot, isn’t it?” He said rather stupidly, and then rushed to correct himself when Gem’s face scrunched up like she was about to start bawling, “B-But don’t worry, we’ll get this all sorted, yeah? Where is he? I’ll help you rescue him.”

“In a cave under our base. I gotta show you, w-we dug it ourselves.” She sniffled, seemingly calming down. Thank admins.

“Alright, well…” He looked over to Lizzie and Scar, who were watching with wide eyes. “Lizzie, I put you in charge. Go inside with Scar and play some board games or something until I get back. Or go play with the neighbours, whatever, just something safe, alright?”

Lizzie got a look of genuine seriousness about her and nodded, and the two of them ran off towards the mountain.

Jimmy offered his hand to Gem. “Alright, lead the way.”

-

The staircase down into their cave was a tight squeeze, but once they were in the mouth of the cave opened up considerably. For an undiscovered cave it was very large and, other than a few of Gem’s stray torches, very dark.

“Jimmyyy!” Gem urged, “Hurry, this way!”

“Right, right, hurrying!”

He heard the mobs before he saw them, and there were a lot. At least two skeletons, a handful of zombies, and a spider. No wonder they’d been overwhelmed, even he was going to need to be careful about this. He motioned for Gem to stay back and brought up his shield, steeling himself with a breath for courage. Why Gem came to him with this was beyond him, but there was no turning back now. Joel needed him. Heck, Gem needed him. He peered around the corner where the pack was clustered around a cobblestone box and noticed a single creeper mixed into the bunch. Bingo. 

“Hey, big stupid mobs! Come and get me!” He shouted, and the entire group turned to come towards him. The creeper scuttled faster, pushing its way to the front, exactly what he was hoping for. He hid behind his shield as they all clustered together and the creeper hissed to life.

BOOM

The only surviving skeleton was easy to cut down with his sword, and he let out a huff of relief as the bones clattered to the floor. He did it. Holy moly he did it.

“Joel!” Gem rushed past him to the cobblestone box and he followed close behind.

He helped her break away the cobblestone, and inside the box with not so much as a torch sat Joel, who was maybe even younger than Scar, curled in on himself and shaking like a cold strider. A tiny part of Jimmy, the tiniest, ugliest part, whispered in his ear how easy it would be to get a dark green kill right now. How simple. But he shut it down. No. Not like this.

“I-I don’ l-like this wildcard…” Joel whined, before bursting into tears.

“Oh Joel, buddy, it’s alright…” Jimmy tried to comfort. His hands hovered uncertainly. A quick glance at Gem told him she wasn’t doing much better and was just barely keeping it together. He needed to come up with something quickly. 

Without stopping to consider the possible awkward consequences, he did the first thing he could think of. He reached down and scooped Joel into his arms.

“Hey, shhh, you’re alright, you’re okay… shhh. Uncle Tim’s gotcha now, everything’s gonna be A-OK.” He hushed, letting every soothing phrase he could think of tumble out of his mouth like alphabet soup. He threw in a little gentle rocking, pet Joel’s hair, anything he could think of until finally the shaking and crying began to settle. The shoulder of his jacket was soaked through with snot and tears by the time Joel properly came back around, but that was fine. He would just have to dunk it in the river or something later.

Joel sniffled and sat up slightly, using one hand to scrub at his face while the other stayed firmly clutched in his shirt. “Ugh… sorry about that, Jim. This whole kid ‘fing sucks…”

“…Joel? Are you okay?” Gem mumbled, face flushed and eyes puffy.

Joel thought for a second, then nodded slowly. “Yeah. Just got a bit scary there, y’know? Stupid baby brain didn’ like the dark.”

“M’so sorry…” She warbled, sounding on the edge of tears again, and Jimmy had to put a stop to that right away.

“Nope, no more crying!” He announced, maybe a bit too loudly, “Everything’s alright now. You did the best you could, Gem. See? Joel’s still on six lives because of you.”

“But I—“

“No buts! You did a good job protecting Joel, and Joel was very brave for staying safe down here by himself. Can we all agree?”

“Haha, butts.” He heard Joel mutter against his shirt. Jimmy counted that as a win.

“Perfect. Now we’re all going to get out of this cave, and you two can spend the night with the Bamboozlers, how does that sound?”

“Like a sleepover?” Gem tilted her head like a puppy, and now that they weren’t in a crisis, man, these guys were cute. 

“Yeah, like a sleepover. C’mon now, I’ve got to get back to Lizzie and Scar before they destroy the server.” He went to set Joel down, only for him to cling tighter and wrap his legs around his torso like a koala. Jimmy was happy to keep carrying him; if he was being honest he expect Joel to start thrashing to be let go the moment he came back to himself, but if he still needed it then Jimmy certainly wasn’t going to judge. Plus, one day it was going to be an amazing story to hold over his head. Maybe not today, but someday.

“So,” Joel said, a cheeky smile on his face as they started up to the surface, “‘Uncle Tim’, huh?”

Jimmy wordlessly reached over and pushed Joel’s head back against his shoulder. “Hush.”

[bookwyrminspiration]

Here's a direct link, in case anyone wants to read it :)

tw: noticable weight loss (mention of ribs), injury/blood, grief

I wonder what the first keeper fic posted on ao3 was? A sokeefe or sophitz fic? A different ship? A gen fic? A crack fic??? I wanna know

[ricky-mortis]

Curtwen Week Day 6: Happy Ending

[randomwriteronline]

"Ah! You're one of those," a voice came to his ears.

Nuparu turned to find a tall Gaquri standing at the entrance, looking at him curiously.

"I am a Toa," he corrected.

The other nodded: "Yes, I do know that. Forgot the name is all. You're a, uh... Ko?"

"Onu."

"Hm! My mistake. Which element is that, again?"

"Earth. Do you need something?" the inventor cut their small talk short, lightly tapping a tool similar to a wrench against the skeletal frame of what appeared to be a heavily modded chariot: "I'm working on a project."

"You know where Berix is?" the Gaquri asked. He raised an arm: an interesting weapon, with a jagged light blue blade at one end and some kind of projectile mechanism attached to the handle, dangled from it casually. "Wanted to drop this off to him. The thornax launcher's been jamming up more often and I know that boy can make it work like a charm again."

"He's getting parts," Nuparu answered. His eyes rested once more on the blade and he added, tilting his head intrigued: "You can leave it here if you want."

"So you can study some original Bara Magna manufacturing?" the other joked.

"It's not really my field, but it looks remarkable."

He watched the organic being laugh heartily as he approached - with a fairly heavy limp, he noticed: "Remarkable! Now that's a bit of an exaggeration, kid. I made these from some bones, whatever viable scraps I could find from wrecks of the Core War, and a few patches across the years when I could afford it. It's held together by spit and whatever Ackar's friend did to make it spurt water."

"From what I understand, spit doesn't seem like a good adhesive."

"That's what we say here to mean something's parts are real shoddily connected together."

"Hm! Like dried mud. Or aluminum sheet."

"That's the idea. Ah, where should I put this, anyhow?"

"There is fine. What's with your leg?"

The Gaquri gave a grimace: "Nothing much - just my knee acting up," he replied, patting the guilty joint. "Something must have gotten rusted. It happens."

Even through the lack of expression of his mask Nuparu treated him to a baffled look.

"What?"

"Organic parts don't rust," the Toa sputtered. "At least, ours don't."

The other eyed the tendons and muscles peeking through black armor, and his lips perked up in a little smile.

Without a word he placed his weapon on the least cluttered corner of Berix's work desk before redirecting his now free hands to the side of the faulty knee, messing with what appeared to be the graceless stitching of a large wound: his fingers sank deftly into it and pried through the gaps enough to loosen the whole thing, and before the less organic being's flabbergasted eyes pulled down the fake skin and meat to reveal a fully mechanical joint, complete with pistons and springs and even what seemed like wires.

"Don't worry," he chuckled with a wave, "Ours don't either. But most crusty old Glatorian like me haven't been completely flesh and bone in a long time."

If the inventor's attention had been piqued before, he was completely captivated now. He was leaning on his seat towards him, vehicle project all but forgotten, intently studying as many details of the prosthesis as he could see from that distance.

His eager interest made the other laugh again: "Why all that surprise! Don't you see something like this on you every day?"

"Yes, but I'm not you!"

"And what's that mean?"

"You're all flesh! And meat! And skin! How does that work?"

The Gaquri considered something for a moment. "If you can get me a seat and figure out what's wrong with it, I'll be glad to let you have a closer look," he offered at last.

Nuparu pulled the stool from right under himself so fast that he fell on his ass.

He then placed it down with extreme care and patted it insistently.

The other barely held back a snort.

His implant hadn't caused this much of a scene since the first day it had been up and functional.

"The name's Tarix, anyhow," he introduced himself as he sat down a little heavily. "Since you'll be rummaging knuckle-deep through the insides of my leg for the next thirty minutes."

"Hm," Nuparu replied as he kneeled until his mask was all but grazing the joint.

Tarix waited a dozen seconds, and added: "You got one too, Toa?"

"One what?"

"Name."

"Nuparu."

"I see. Ah - nope, nope, don't-" his fingers quickly pinched the mechanical being's and lifted them away from the scarified tissue binding the meat to the metal: "That's real flesh, don't peel that - the nerves still work, you'd put me through the pains of Plude."

"What's that?"

"You folks have a place in your lore built just to torture you forever?"

"Yes, Karzhani. I've been there."

"Huh. Well, I've been to Plude too back when it still existed, and I'll just say that the only good thing the Lord of Sand might've done was collapsing it on itself. So, you get what I mean about the pain."

"Hm. Yes, I can imagine. But how do I - see, to check the individual parts, I'd need to pull them off..."

"Oh - hold it, let me just..."

Angling his leg in an uncomfortable position and hunching down with a hiss, the Glatorian set to work carefully pulling screws loose with the help of an empty pipe he'd fetched from his pocket. The small parts dangled from their sockets without falling, just distant enough from the point the metal touched to allow the top and bottom pieces to be pulled apart without needing to pull the much more easy to lose components out of the whole.

"Hold the calf a moment, will you?" he muttered with the pipe now stuck between his teeth. Nuparu complied, holding the lower half of the leg still as Tarix worked his magic on the inner wires. At last, satisfied, he unfurled his back up once more and puffed satisfied: "There, pull."

When the Toa did so, the prosthesis came apart as easily as a house of cards. Suddenly, in the mechanical palm was a whole calf, still warm with life and undoubtedly organic.

Tarix watched genuinely amused as Nuparu tested the ankle in his hands and on the ground, miming an attempt at a walk as though playing with a very concerning doll with nothing short of pure unadultered fascination.

He posed it as if stuck in a sprint: "Can you feel this?"

"Not a single thing," the Glatorian replied. He patted the metallic femur's exposed head: "And neither can I here. The connections are all in the wires, they go right into the nerves, see? So long as they're apart I can't feel crap anywhere from over here," and he pointed to the flesh that stopped around the middle of his thigh "To the rest of the leg underneath. Not that I should be able to, frankly, if we wanted to abide by nature's whims, but luckily for me us Spherus Magna natives never cared much for that."

Nuparu hummed: "How'd you get it like this, anyways?"

"Oh," the Glatorian shrugged as though it were the most normal thing in the world, "Blew up."

"It just exploded?"

"Not by itself, of course, someone shot the whole thing out of me."

The Toa treated him to an appalled look.

Tarix waved a hand harshly, chewing on his unlit pipe: "The Core War was absolutely barbaric, kid! I've witnessed stuff I wouldn't wish on a Skrall. When I saw that half you've got there in your hand fly over my head as gracefully as the ugliest bird known to any being with eyes, I thought I was going to die of shock like a Mountain Striker with a broken wing. I still have no clue how I managed to keep awake through the bloodloss and pain long enough for the fixers to figure out I was still alive enough to be taken down to the medic."

Nuparu regarded the half of a limb in his grasp with newfound horror and fascination. A whole portion of leg, shot right out... He wasn't sure if even the Vortixx could have had something capable of doing that. Oh, sure, they had plenty of possibly worse things, but even the most blunt tended to have slightly more complex effects than just 'blows a chunk off of you'.

And the fact that they had managed to rebuild the broken joint and connected it to the rest of the nervous system was nothing short of miraculous, compared to the same thing done on a mechanical being - whose organic components regenerate, too.

"And all Glatorian have something like this?"

"Us older ones, yes," the other nodded. He watched with a sort of lazy interest as the Toa turned his attention to the mechanism of his prosthesis, checking for damage as he had promised. "The rookies tend to have the usual stuff, thank goodness - scars, plaques, maybe a limb, some fingers..."

"Fingers?"

"Yes, some of them. They tend to nip 'em a lot during training, you know, when they start to get the hang of it and stop holding their weapons like they're gonna grow a mouth and bite them - they cut tendons often those first few times. Or just the whole thing."

"Really?"

He chuckled, playfully waving his fingers: "Gresh keeps losing them. If you look closely you can tell which phalanxes are still his."

"I thought he was good at fighting."

"He is. He's just young. And a little too brash at times."

Nuparu hummed, moving onto the piece of implant attached to his thigh: "You mentioned limbs, too," he noted absentmindedly: "Is that also common, during training?"

"Losing them? Oh no, that happens out in the desert. Or, used to happen... Well, the desert's still out there, just smaller, so I guess - point is, you'll sooner get one cut off by a Bone Hunter or chewed up by a Vorox than find a fellow Glatorian who'll do that to you, on purpose or not. We made sure to try and avoid that sort of thing when we made the rules for the job."

"And plaques?"

"Oh, these," and he tapped some strange metallic protrusions on the top of his legs, on the side of his arms, and on his shoulders. "Nothing special, they keep armor in place. Easier than having to strap it on. We install them when we come of age."

Their shape was somewhat familiar: "Berix has them too, I think."

"I think everybody gets them - Agori, Glatorian, Skrall..."

"They are pretty useful," the Toa nodded.

He couldn't really imagine how they could have managed to stick armor to themselves otherwise. Maybe through some cloth? But then it might chafe their joints, and they'd have to find a way to insert it in the metal anyways...

He hummed thoughtfully, wracking his brain as he tried at once to figure out both the logistics of putting armor on fully organic beings and whatever was wrong with the implant.

So concentrated he was that he actually jumped a little when the pipe gently smacked his shoulder.

Tarix had a strange look on his face as he pointed down at a spot on his prosthesis: "Don't - it's nothing to be worried about yet, just, watch it," he warned, "That coil there you've got near your index, she's real frisky. Won't be a problem now that it's taken apart, but when you stick it back together you'd better avoid even just so much as grazing it - it'll pull my calf back at top speeds to kick my ass. Been like that since the start."

"Oh! Sounds painful."

"It is!"

With a hand already rummaging through a box of springs, Nuparu offered: "Since I'm here already, I could replace that..."

"Ah, there's no need really," the Glatorian quickly stopped him.

"But it's a liability."

"If it's out in the open like this, yeah, but - well, when it's covered it's a lot more manageable, and the wires-"

"It's still a malfunction. I can fix that without any trouble."

"I get it, but it's - I - hm! Let me explain. See, when - if I cover it up, see, with my-"

"The fake flesh?"

"Yes, that - it still jerks back if touched, but not as hard, you get me?"

"But it still does."

"Yes, and here's the - the thing is, I also have my nerves connected, right? Right, and when the coil gets touched and makes my leg jerk, it... Er... See - have you ever - hm! Hmm-hm. Hold on. Do you... Is there something that you know is not good for your body, but when you do it it just feels nice?"

"No."

"Alright, this complicates things."

"Oh! Oh, no, wait - when I cut metal with a saw, I like to keep myself as close to the sparks as possible so they can hit me because they tingle. It's fun. Do you mean like that?"

"Eeeh, close enough! That's what's going on with that coil."

"It tingles?"

"It... Uh... Sure, let's. Call it that."

The change in tone was weird, and he seemed to be somewhat embarrassed about having brought the subject up.

Now, in regards to asking personal questions, Nuparu tended to be as uninterested in other beings' private matter as much as a Kofo-Jaga is in lightstones.

However, this was directly related to the machinations of an impressive, if a little primitive, handmade mechanical joint.

So yes, he would have loved to pry.

The mental manifestation of Turaga Whenua repeatedly smacking him over the head with his drilling staff was currently the only thing keeping him from inquiring on any activities Tarix might have enjoyed dabbling in outside of his work hours, but luckily for the Glatorian that singular imaginary scenario was also an extremely effective deterrent for any Matoran or Toa that had ever at some point of their lives resided in Onu-Koro.

As such, the Toa just shrugged and diverted his attention onto the object the Gaquri was now nervously twisting in his hand: "What's that, by the way?"

The total swerve in subject matter destabilized the Glatorian briefly. He looked down at his fingers, then back at the Toa.

"A pipe?" he replied.

Nuparu squinted at it a little better: "That does not look like a pipe." he decreted.

Tarix lifted an eyebrow, curiously: "It's just an Agori pipe."

"That's not a pipe," the inventor insisted.

"And how should a proper Toa pipe look like, then?"

"Matoran pipe, maybe-" the Toa scoffed, rolling his eyes and making the other chuckle a bit while the mechanical hands went right back to checking on his implant in the midst of his correction: "First of all, it's far too small to be of any proper use; second, that seems to be made of wood, which is the worst material for this kind of thing - even if you could fit that tiny piece in a proper hydraulic system, long time usage will lend it to rot and come apart much faster, which is why we used to trade iron with Le-Koro to avoid the whole village from caving in on--"

"Oh!" Tarix interrupted him all of a sudden, smacking the object on his palm with a hollow sound: "Oh, you meant - no no no, it's not that type of pipe! It's a, uh -- pipa! Nagele! Sghitt!"

"Don't curse at me, please."

"I'm not cursing at you, it's just different names for this! You really don't have a word for-?" then he cut himself off as he seemed to remind himself of something evidently obvious: "Ah - well, I mean, you don't have a mouth, of course you can't smoke..."

"Yes we do."

"You do?"

"Yes? How else would we hold our masks?"

Tarix blinked, briefly wondered if he should have asked, and decided it didn't matter: "But you don't smoke? At all?"

"No? Unless we get catastrophically overheated or are set on fire," Nuparu replied as he attached the disjointed calf into the thigh again. "Both of which in all fairness have happened before. Not very often, but they have happened."

"No, I meant... Ah, hold it, hold it..."

He stuck the unlit pipe back in his mouth, puffing out nothing a few times with a thoughtful expression on his face.

"See - it's a bit like the coil and the sparks again, the matter with smoking," he decided to start explaining: "There's certain plants, if you dry them and burn them well, that make really pleasant smoke."

"How is smoke pleasant?" the Toa muttered.

"The smell can be," the Gaquri shrugged, "And the taste too. Wait-" and he gently knocked the foot of the pipe on the top of the Volitak before the inventor could interrupt him again "-Wait a second, I can't very well clear this up if you keep cutting in. Alright, so the bigger part here, the bowl we call it - you need to press the dried plants in here and light them up, only a little before the whole thing burns up; once they're charred nicely, you inhale through the shank, and then you puff it back out. That's how the smoke gets in your mouth and you can taste it."

"And how does it taste, then?"

"Ah, depends on what you smoke," was the whistful answer. "Same goes for the smell. The Lebori have a certain bark that gets real flexible when wet - they make whole pipes with it, they burn up real well, but it's a bit too sour for me. Before the Shattering there used to be a type of kelp I liked, and Kiina said they had River Eyes up near the Dormus that made some terribly sweet smoke."

"River Eyes?"

"It's a flower! Small, round, blue, and it grows on river banks. Never got to try them, though, and it's better I don't go around asking for some with the lungs I've got. Like I said, smoking's the same as the coil and the sparks: feels good to do, but it's bad for the body."

Nuparu hummed deeply, rummaging inside the knee as he handled the hanging wires carefully.

"I think I figured out the problem," he announced.

At that Tarix perked up: "Rust?"

"One piston has developed a limestone growth that makes it much harder to move properly, and as a result one of the springs is bent out of shape and chafes right against the nerve."

"Ah! Well, damn. You can get limestone in there?"

"If it's humid enough, it can build up over time."

"Hm... Alright, I guess all those years sweating in arenas and whatnot were bound to do the trick eventually."

"Also there was rust."

"Hm. Where?"

"Three screws. I changed them already."

"Wait, really? When?"

"While you were talking about the Core War."

"Huh! You're quick. And quiet."

The Toa shrugged: "I like working."

He pulled the prosthesis apart for a second time, laying the calf down on the floor. He then leaned back to search through a tool box brimming with bits and pieces - bolts, nuts, coils, springs, and all sorts of other things - with what his mask's stillness still managed to convey as a focused furrowed brow, evidently still thinking about what course of action to take now that he had pinpointed the anomaly to fix.

Changing his mind, he stood up and made his way to one of the various piles of junk and assorted more or less useful knicknacks to start looking for something in there instead.

"Speaking of the Core War," he said, implying he wanted to start a conversation but without really adding to that sentence.

Tarix waited a few minutes, puffing out in silence while watching him shift towels or bottles until he found what he was looking for (a clean enough rag and flask containing a murky liquid), before figuring that he was waiting for some kind of permission to continue on the admittedly not particularly pleasant topic: "Yes?"

"You said other older Glatorians also got implants like this from it."

"I implied it, but yes, that's the case."

The Toa hummed as he settled back before him: "And they're all knees, like yours?"

"You want to ask what their own prosthesis are?"

At that, he got no response.

"You can, by the way," Tarix reassured him, "It's been a damn long time by now, it doesn't hurt as much as say, eighty hundred years ago. We've been living like this long enough to joke about the whole thing and whatnot."

Nuparu mumbled something indistict as he soaked up the rag and began scraping the limestone off of the metal with it.

"Don't act all shy now, kid! As I said, it's no trouble." the Glatorian repeated. A sly smile curled the corners of his lip: "You can't get embarrassed like this every time you have to ask about new possible clients, you know," he jokingly reprimanded him, "Otherwise you'll have a hard time getting any."

"I don't want to be paid!" the Toa replied. "I'm just curious, is all! This is... Well, I didn't expect it to be something you'd have."

"Oh, don't worry, not everybody's missing a whole chunk of leg like me," Tarix chuckled. "We Glatorian like to keep ourselves distinct from one another."

"In implant too?"

"Of course! Let me think, now..."

He inhaled a long breath through his pipe, leaning back a little as the kid continued on with his work, and exhaled with a whistle.

"So, let's see - Vastus, he's got a good chunk of his lower spine replaced and, oh, 'bout three quarters of his intestines," he began: "Kiina had her hip crushed and put back together, and that should be... Ah, nope, nope, half of her left hand and the whole ulna too. Telluris I haven't see in a long while now, but unless he's figured out how to place his brain in a tin can I'd bet his head's all that's left. Certavus, bless his memory, I don't think he had a single original organ left by the end, and Gelu's got bionic feet - one foot, one leg, right, a whole leg, so then Strakk was the one who got his eye shot out and his nose crushed. And the jaw, of course. I don't remember if it was him or Malum who cracked his head but I do think it was him, because Malum had the femur that got split in half and it worsened with that problem with his ribcage where the metal was corroding and messing with his blood... Which is why he had to get his marrow replaced in his leg later on. Oh, and Ackar also had to... Ah, wait, which one was it? Right, right. Ackar, poor guy, his back itself is worse than a Plude street but his real problem's his right shoulder blade, which got essentially pulverized - I was there, ghastly sight - so they had to replace the whole thing, and that was bad enough; but then, and this is the fucked thing, the implant actively degraded the rest of the arm, so he had to keep replacing bits and pieces of it until it was just completely gone."

Nuparu lifted his head, eyes wide and flabbergasted: "The fixing made it worse?"

"It did! He kept having trouble moving it."

"How?"

Tarix raised his shoulders: "Beats me," he replied just as baffled. "It's a common thing for Tapyri, honestly. It's hard to tell if the material's bad quality or has trouble with the heat. Perditus too - after he got half his leg replaced, the damn thing somehow managed to melt halfways and left him limping almost worse than he would if he just didn't have it."

"And he can't replace it?"

"It's grafted onto the bone and the muscle has grown over it. They'd have to carve the whole thing out with it, it's just not worth it."

The Toa stared at him positively appalled.

"That is horrid," he spat, punctuating the adjective with a harsh yank of his hand over the faulty piston, thus launching a loosened piece of limestone to skid across the floor.

"You're tellin' me, kid."

"That's - it's inadmissible. It's insane."

"And I haven't told you about the Agori."

"What about the Agori? Were they fighting too? Do they-?"

"No, not fighting, usually - it's something we got in common with your lot: we're basically the same species, but we are much bigger and they're much nimbler. So you had us larger folk tearing one another to bits properly, while they tended to work as scouts if they weren't busy trying to put us back in one piece."

The Gaquri interrupted himself to stretch his arms up, pulling one towards his head.

The movement produced a loud 'crock!' roughly around the height of his shoulder, followed by much softer pops crackling all the way up towards his wrist as it twisted.

Satisfied with the sound (which instead made the inventor a little uneasy considering their conversation), he moved to massage the sides of his spine with his knuckles, rolling his neck: it seemed to make a curious ticking noise in place of a meatier sound, filling in the quick pauses of Nuparu's rag scrubbing the limestone away.

At last he puffed into his unlit pipe: "If you look at the older ones - the Agori, I mean - you'll see they've got less lower half than upper."

"That makes no sense."

"It does if you don't count implants. We've got them a bit everywhere, I told you, but an Agori with an arm prosthesis is a real rarity. They've got them mostly between their soles and the top of their hipbones."

"And why's that?"

"It's 'cause the lucky ones stepped on mines."

The Toa hummed thoughtfully.

He did not raise his eyes from the almost clean piston: "And the unlucky ones?"

"Well, we were trained to aim for either the neck or the head."

Ah.

Those certainly had been unlucky.

For every thing Toa and Glatorians seemed to have in common, a complete opposite came around. To imagine a Toa willingly kill was already hard, though not impossible - the Mahri themselves had been met with the chance to do so once or twice, and it had been tantalizing to say the least; but to envision a group of his brothers and sisters being not only instructed but even trained to kill, and especially to kill Matoran...

Well, he was glad he did not live in that kind of world.

"That's just how life is," Tarix sighed in the end. "Nobody wins. They've got their metal hips, and I've got my leg held together by wires and pistons. And an artificial diaphragm."

That snapped Nuparu out of his unpleasant musings: "A what?"

"That one wasn't the war's fault, though - well, it was, but it came in later. See, I had some sharpnel that got stuck in there but nobody noticed, and then one day I got a shove in the wrong spot during a match and just stopped breathing. So I had to get a mechanical one, and when I have to put myself under any sort of strain I need to hook myself up to an oxygen supplier to make sure it doesn't collapse under the effort - you know, that tube thing you might have seen on me, sort of like yours."

"Your gills?"

"I..." the Gaquri briefly did a double take. "You call those gills?"

"Yes?"

They blinked at each other briefly.

"Yeah," Tarix conceded, "Yeah, I guess those would be gills for you folks, huh. Makes sense."

"What was it that you had to replace?"

"My diaphragm."

"What is that?"

"... The muscle?"

"Which muscle?"

"The... The one that makes the... Lungs? Work? I understood you did have lungs?"

"Lungs work on their own."

"No they do not?"

"Yes they do. They are muscles."

"No they are not??"

Before Nuparu could further argue his point by lifting his chest plate and forcing Tarix to behold the disquieting spectacle offered by his very much clearly autonomously moving lungs, the unmistakeable noise of a small variety of hollow brass objects gracelessly crashing on the floor and being hurriedly chased after by stomping feet attracted their attention elsewhere.

Berix did not notice them as immediately as they noticed him, since he was busy making his entrance on all fours as he scrambled to pick up a bunch of scrap metal that had spilled from his arms.

The other two beings made no sound as they watched him curse to himself after stepping on a rogue bolt. They decided to simply observe him in silence much like an equipe of entomologists observes a particularly frenetic spider panicking for some kind of fault in its web, making no motion to lend the young Agori any help as he crawled along the ground to collect the scattered pieces of his scavenged treasure of junk.

It was particularly fascinating when he accidentally shoved several bolts in his mouth to the point of almost stuffing his cheeks with them, realized his mistake, and spat them in what looked like an exhaust pipe.

He almost cried when they fell out of it and rolled away again.

Then he lifted his eyes briefly to the other two silent beings in the room and failed to recognize them.

Meaning he then proceded to jump almost three whole bio straight in the air once he figured there were people looking at him - landing on a screw.

"FUCK!" he whimpered.

Tarix waved: "Hello to you."

"Do you need help?" Nuparu asked with a notable delay.

The Agori kneeled to the ground and skidded across it: "No no no, I'm good! I'm good, I'm - hey, hi, Tarix, hi, when did-? What are you-? Uh," he said nervously as he tried to catch as many nuts and springs as possible, "What is going on there? Is it, did I interrupt or, should- should I leave? Again? Should I leave again?"

"Nuparu's fixing my leg."

At that Berix snapped his head with a deafening gasp to look directly at him, the most betrayed expression to ever grace his face plaster across it.

"But I wanted to do that!" he cried out in anguish like a desert fox cub experiencing the horrors of its mother's tongue bath for the first time: "I told you I could do it, I- I replaced Gresh's ribs and, and I fixed his lungs when the Skrall got him and he hasn't had problems with them since, I told you I could do it, I'm good at fixing-!"

"I know that, and Gresh told me you did real well," the older Gaquri stopped him, "But - don't take it personally, kid, you're good and all, but when it comes to my leg I only trust you as far as I can throw you and believe me, it ain't far."

"But then why does he get to do it!" Berix wailed, pointing at Nuparu still scrubbing off the limestone.

"He's got a whole body like this, I'd imagine he knows what to do."

"But I know what to do too!"

"I told you, I'd rather have a specialist on it."

The Toa briefly wondered if being a descendant of the Water Tribe had something to do with how outstandingly wet Berix could will his eyes to look, or if it was just a specifically Berix thing.

Mabe it was an Agori defense mechanism. After all, it would have been pretty hard to want to hurt something that appeared to be the personification of the verbs 'to whimper', 'to whine', 'to sob', and last but not least 'to wail'.

Whatever the origin of such an expression of anguish, Tarix was not immune to its effects: "Oh, don't be like that," he finally pleaded with a tired but guilty tone, and pointed off to the cluttered desk not too far away: "There, I've got something for you too, alright? I came in 'cause my Thornax launcher's busted and you're the best with 'em. Could you fix that for me? Pretty please?"

That was enough to light the younger being's face up again.

With the sort of excited thin howling laugh that a mischievous ghost might have, he scuttled away to the mess of a table that was the headquarters for most of his projects: onto it he dumped the rest of his scraps, not caring even in the slightest that it only helped to worsen the general situation he already had going on as he was already completely absorbed by the thought of the inner mechanics of the weapon at hand.

The perfectly good chair right beside him thoroughly ignored in favor of sitting on the ground in a curled position that would have made a shrimp suggest booking an osteopathic appointment, he immediately started tinkering around to figure what the problem was with the drive and precision of a blood hound.

That had been perhaps one of the best things their unplanned collaboration had brought Nuparu - aside from all the knick-knacks and thingamajigs and vehicles and tools he'd been able to make or just plan out with the Agori, of course. Watching Berix work on something was such a fun and fascinating experience: his intensity gave his body language a sort of visceral desperation that contrasted his careful fumbling motions, pulling pieces apart with his scarred skeletal fingers and letting them fall all around him as though discarded carelessly - yet he somehow always knew where to search when he needed them again, and if in the middle of his fixer's frenzy you asked him for a specific nut or a gear he could pick it up without even looking, always on the first try. The thunderous act of creation and its rhythmic symphony played on rough instruments whisked the both of them away from the world at large, but when the Toa managed to pull himself back to reality (whether done or stumped or just in need of a break) it was enjoyable if not just all-together mesmerizing to observe the other hard at work on his own project.

A loud bang was not enough to deter him from the launcher either.

The equally loud voice that followed with an exasperated bark did, however: "BERIX! THE DOOR!"

"RIGHT! RIGHT- RIGHT, HOLD ON!" he squeaked hurriedly, abandoning (with a little more care) the weapon to scuttle away as fast as he could to the entrance of their laboratory.

The figure that emerged from the held open door replied to his rambling apologies by grunting every few steps - not without reason, seeing as they were carrying the carcass of an older model of chariot intertwined with some other mean of transport that had clearly gotten lodged sideways in its back, trying to balance the hellish thing on their shoulders in a way not too dissimilar to how a shepherd might carry a too small Mahi tired from a day of running wildly.

The mess of a car accident was dropped rather gracelessly onto the first largest spot of floor available; freed from their herculean weight, the being sighed and pulled back their arms, making the rather dull metal vertebrae poking from their skin creak in a somewhat unsettling fashion.

Nuparu briefly wondered if they were encrusted in limestone too.

They sort of looked like it.

Hm.

Now he had to wonder if it was a common yet not very well-known problem for organic beings with mechanical implants. Maybe it had to do with an excessive production of sweat?

While he was busy pondering that, Tarix grinned at the sight: "Hello, my beautiful wife who sucks at killing me," he crooned lovingly.

Vastus turned to him with a smirk, thin feathers raised and brows slightly furrowed in a manner that was much more fond than annoyed: "Hello, my beautiful husband who can't aim for shit," he replied; upon noticing the Toa kneeled before him, he cheekily added: "Committing adultery, I see?"

His partner wheezed a loud gurgling laugh: "Twelve thousand years we've been married! Twelve thousand years and now you mistake me for Gelu!"

"For who?"

"What, you haven't heard about--?"

"NOT IN FRONT OF MY PROJECTS!" Berix shrieked.

The Lebori chuckled - it was a strange sound, some kind of hiccuping hiss - and reached out to rub his hand all over the younger Gaquri's head; the kid swiveled away from him with a soft rattling noise as his annoyed trembling arms shook his scales against one another, face contorting into a piqued grimace, and returned to the launcher to tinker the other two away from his conscious perception.

"And where'd you get that?" the Glatorian inquired, pointing at it with his chin as it was common to do in his tribe and getting no answer.

"It's mine," his husband reassured him, "He's fixing it."

"Jammed again?"

"Seems like it."

"Bet you just didn't clean it properly."

"You don't know that."

"But I'm right," Vastus teased him as he approached to steal the pipe from his mouth. "And over here, what's going on?"

"He's fixin' up my leg. Nuparu, by the way, that's his name - he's a, ah, Ko- nope, Onu-Toa, he said - thought it was rust but I had limestone in it."

"We can get limestone?"

"Might be the sweating," Nuparu interrupted them suddenly. He fixed his unmoving mask onto the Lebori: "Can you turn around, please?"

Tarix snorted at the other's brief baffled blink: "Hey now, kid, I get you've put your hands in me and all, but you shouldn't go around just checking my wife out like that!"

"NOT! IN FRONT! OF THE PROJECTS!"

The Toa looked between the three of them with no clue what any of them was going on about: "I thought there might have been crusts on the vertebrae," he explained. "Since I have the solvent at hand already, I could handle that already if it's the case..."

"That's what they all say," the Gaquri snickered.

His confusion was palpable.

Vastus flicked a playful finger at his husband's head, warning him: "Berix is gonna kick you out at this rate... But I'm sure it's just some dust, kid, nothing to worry about."

"It still would not hurt to do a simple visual check."

"He's right," Tarix interjected while trying to snatch his pipe back and failing: "Maybe you've been building up a limestone deposit this whole time without knowing it."

"I don't have limestone."

"You don't know that."

Vastus smirked at him as he turned around for Nuparu to check: "But I'm right."

"You can't keep answering that and get away with it."

"I can if I'm always right."

The inventor gave a high pitched hum: "False alarm. That's just dust," he confirmed.

A triumphant grin briefly met the Gaquri's eyes as he rolled them.

Nuparu reached into a box to pull out a short variety of springs in order to compare their size with that of the one that had been bent by the affected piston, now cleaned and hopefully ready to work smoothly; careful not to dislodge anything else, he carefully pried the ill piece out and hooked up its replacement.

Satisfied with how the procedure had done, he pulled himself back a little and announced: "I have another question."

"Shoot," Tarix answered instantly.

"What do 'wife' and 'husband' mean, exactly?"

A hot second of silence passed in which the Glatorian regretted opening his mouth.

He glanced at Vastus.

His wife glanced back.

The quiet persisted.

"We're married," he answered lamely at last.

The question he dreaded slapped him in the face with outstanding punctuality: "And what does that mean?"

Having had his fun of seeing his husband's best full-body impression of a yam turning exponentially smaller when fried to a crisp piece of coal, the Lebori finally intervened: "You folks have contracts?"

"We do."

"Marriage is a contract between people where you become part of one other's family. And tribe, if you're from different ones like us."

A vacuous gaze met his explanation.

"Alright, what's confusing you?"

"The 'becoming part of' thing."

Vastus shrugged, his feathers puffing out for a moment before returning flat in a way similar to how certain avian Rahi did before starting a very long song: "It means we become relatives," he tried again. "Here, look - Tarix is a Gaquri and I'm a Lebori, so my family and hers come from different tribes. By marrying me she became a sort of honorary member of the Jungle tribe, and everybody treats her almost as though she was my brother, or my cousin; in the same manner, I became an honorary member of the Water tribe and I'm treated like her sister or cousin."

"So... It's sort of like assembling a team?" Nuparu tilted his head, puzzled: "There's no need for a contract for that. All Toa consider each other siblings already."

The other clicked his tongue as though he'd bitten it by accident: "I shouldn't have used that metaphor," he muttered.

"Why not?"

"First of all marrying your actual blood-siblings is frowned upon."

"Why? What's a blood-sibling?"

"I'll tell you when you're older. Secondly, I can assure you marriage is nothing like siblinghood."

At that, the Toa frowned: "It sounds the same to me."

"Your knee and Tarix's look the same to me, too," Vastus argued: "They're both made of metal, so they're the same thing."

"They really aren't." then he blinked, bright eyes flashing briefly, looked to the ceiling to recollect his thought, gave a loud hum, and met his gaze again: "I see your point."

The Glatorian smiled: "Good kid."

"Back to the point - how do 'wife' and 'husband' fit with all that?"

"That's just how you call someone who's married."

"So they're synonyms?"

"Yes, pretty much."

The answer seemed to satisfy the inventor greatly.

"I'm learning so much about your species today," he commented in a giddy tone. He returned to the discarded robot calf on the floor, dusting off its mechanical parts to make sure not even small amounts of debris would interefere with its functions; just as he plucked it back into the bulk of the implant, he looked again at the two Glatorian and told them with complete and total earnestness: "You know, if you were significantly smaller, quadrupedal, perhaps vaguely insectoid and incapable of speech, Turaga Whenua would have the best day of his life writing down and trying to decypher your absolutely incomprehensible habits."

That was the highest compliment an Onu-Matoran from the island of Mata Nui could bestow upon someone.

It was not categorizable as such by perhaps any other being in the entire universe, considering the source of such an idiom had been cut off from all other known civilizations and it was generally not considered particularly flattering to be told that you would make for a great petri dish for one's paternal figure to microscope if you were any less sentient, but luckily his tone did manage to properly convey the positive nature of his otherwise insane sentence.

So instead of knocking his head off with roundhouse kick, Tarix and Vastus smiled awkwardly in an attempt at not laughing in his face and just replied: "Thanks."

His Volitak did not have a mouth, but Nuparu's grin was blinding.

Berix chose that moment to shriek triumphantly.

"Fixed!" he declared, Thornax launcher hoisted into the air like it was the second making of the Element Lords.

The older Gaquri turned to him with eyes wide: "What, already?"

"It was encrusted with Thornax juice!"

Not even the time to feel bashful about such a silly and easy to fix thing hindering his battling performance so much that his wife was already leaning down into his line of sight with a smirk so wide that he could have just bitten his whole head off with it.

"What did I say?" he teased.

Tarix sighed, a weary smile on his face: "You cannot keep getting away with this."

"Yes I can," Vastus gloated, "If I'm always right."

[tenwhiteandalusians]

so no one was going to tell me if i got literally one episode further tenax drops that he’s the one who saved scorpus from his mom’s pimp AND that he’s intimately familiar with scorpus’ dick when he was younger. guys. guys.

[fountainpenguin]

Things that happened in Martyn & Cleo Double Life canon:

Cleo hoping to find her soulmate and start a life with them

Cleo dumping Martyn without giving him a chance to explain his side of the story, but hearing him out when he comes to her later

Martyn watching Cleo through his spyglass and telling the audience she seems safe and happy even though he thinks it's weird she's outside at night

Martyn, after he's had time to consider how he wants to play this, spinning a story about trying to be a provider for her and Cleo explaining that she wanted him, not things

Cleo not being remotely impressed by the "I was providing" sob story, lol

Martyn calling Cleo selfish for choosing to be with Scott because she's supposed to be HIS soulmate and he wants a partner

Cleo willing to forgive Martyn if he meets them halfway

Martyn refusing to meet them halfway because he doesn't think he did anything wrong

Martyn screaming about how Cleo's building bridges with Scott but "When will she think about mending our bridges???"

Martyn explaining to Cleo that he doesn't understand why his Session 1 actions bothered them

Martyn centering his character arc and roleplay on trying to win Cleo back without actually apologizing

Cleo giving Martyn a flower and stating that if he loses it, she'll be real cross with him

Cleo chasing Martyn out of her yard because he tried to put an HOA sign on her base and she wanted to make it clear that she wasn't associated with them and their hate for his base (even though she does think his heart base is strange)

Martyn attacking Cleo after she said attacking is a form of affection to her

Cleo setting boundaries with Martyn and explaining what he can do to get her back

Cleo sighing when Scar set her up on a date with Martyn, but taking the chance to talk to him instead of walking out

Cleo genuinely wanting Martyn in her alliance

Martyn and Cleo giggling constantly when they chat

Scar asking if Martyn wanted him to play a romantic music disc for him and Cleo (and Martyn getting excited and saying yes)

Martyn offering to take Cleo's armor and weapons to the deep dark so he can enchant them and bring them back while she stays safe

Cleo gifting Martyn diamonds, expecting nothing in return but not wanting him to die from lack of a good sword

Martyn and Cleo forming a secret alliance that allows Cleo to live with Scott while being on good terms with Martyn

Martyn expressing frustration that Cleo wants to keep this alliance secret because he wants them to be public allies; Cleo softly shushes him when people approach and might overhear

Martyn telling Cleo that she's putting out a lot of mixed signals because she keeps reeling him in and then pushing him away, claiming he is very confused about where he stands with her

Martyn teasing Cleo by punching her off a cliff and accidentally killing her and feeling so bad about it that he apologizes profusely despite roleplaying as someone who refused to apologize for Session 1

Martyn and Cleo immediately threatening Bdubs together when he said hi to them while they were hanging out, sdkfj

Martyn genuinely apologizing to Pearl for dumping her after Session 1

Martyn hiding under Cleo's bed while she defends him from an enderman attack

Cleo offering to let Martyn move into her house after Etho and Joel grief his base; Martyn saying he might take her up on that

Cleo and Martyn agreeing to move out and base together at Box

Cleo trusting Martyn with the location and resources of her red life base

Martyn rushing to Cleo's aid in the deep dark and trying to turn everyone against him instead

Cleo responding to Martyn's panicked shouts for her to eat by opening her inventory to get food (and drowning because she forgot she was in water)

Cleo hanging back and letting Martyn attack Scott while she does nothing to stop him from doing so, implying as much as she likes Scott, she won't kill Martyn (and herself) for him (and/or she trusted Scott to handle himself even though he ran away while Martyn was shooting at him)

Things that did not happen:

Cleo unwilling to forgive Martyn or consider being his friend and partner

Martyn and Cleo hating each other

Thank you for coming to my TED Talk

[lupins-hehim-pussy]

I wanna know ur Fontaine msq criticisms 👁️👁️👂I’m all ears

I'm not sure if you wanted me to talk about this secretly or publicly but! Here I go!

The TLDR: Fontaine MSQ aestheticised prison, poverty, child abuse, the justice system/court and didn't properly address any of it.

More:

Focalors/Furina has way too much of a sympathetic angle for a dictator who's lets people drown with her inaction.

Neuvillette feels Bad for sentencing some people to death/prison, but that's it. He's one of the most powerful people in Fontaine. If he felt like there are systemic injustices, I.E sending an abused Child to prison, he should be the first person to DO something about it, not just cry and be sad so the audience can be like aw, that's complex character writing isn't it? No it's not! And guilt doesn't absolve you!!!!!!! (These are stuff we deal with in OTCOJ read my fic now /j)

Meropide has children in it, both Sentenced there (Wriothesley) and BORN THERE (Lanoire), and this is just a quirk of the place. Not only that, Meropide accepts prisoners of all genders and crimes. There are abusers and abuse victims in one place. Do you know how bad that is? How much potential for crimes to happen in a place like that— oh wait, Meropide isn't under Fontaine's jurisdiction. If you are assaulted as an inmate it literally means nothing to the court.

Wriothesley had no qualifications when he took over. Depending on how long he lived on the streets, how old he was when he killed his parents, how old he was when he was first taken in by the orphanage, etc, the man might never have more than 4–5 years of formal education. Sigewinne probably had to teach him how to write reports. And do Meropide's spreadsheets. Edit because I forgot to elaborate on this one: This isn't a point brought up anywhere, which is bad, because when poverty and incarceration robs you of a proper education (and the rights to vote in many places too, too, by the way), it reduces your prospects for jobs, reduces many people's ability to get a home etc etc. Wriothesley was just, narratively, Given his position.

Meropide is an industrialized prison, and they portray this as a good thing. Prisoners are paid in coupons for their labour, and this is also portrayed as a good thing.

The One-Meal-A-Day reform was something Paimon gushed about being so great of a perk, that people might want to go to jail for food (could be interesting and reflective of systemic poverty if MHY had brains, but they don't, so I was just Pissed because essentially all Paimon wanted to say was "Prison isn't so bad, but still don't go to prison guys! Prison labour is really hard!"). By the way, in most real-world prisons they are obligated to feed you three meals a day. Because that's how much food a human needs. MHY went with one meal just so they can say "if you want to eat more, you have to work." And then the welfare meal is a goddamn gacha. So imagine you're a starving child who's too weak to work in the fucking robot assembly line, and you wander up for your first meal in 24 hours, only to luck in with a shit one. I'd kill myself.

They wrote Wriothesley, who's a victim of the system, into a guy who's say shit like "I'm the Duke I can do whatever I want" for a cool moment where he choke-slams an inmate (I know he was a bad guy. But also, in copaganda when cops are violent/disregarding protocols, they are always only portrayed to do that against bad guys, so what does our critical thinking tells us about this one?) They wrote Wriothesley, who was an inmate of a prison so bad, so notorious that it is the literal boogeyman of Fontaine, that has a legal (???) fighting pit, with an administrator who abuses his position to be unreasonable, to willingly stay in the place and become an Administrator who would choke-slam an inmate while saying a cool line about how he has the power to do whatever he wants. They wrote him, the guy who had to be fed on the streets by melusines, to think one-meal-a-day was a good enough reform (while he spends god-knows how much on his boat). This wasn't a victim-turns-into-abuser narrative either, they want all this to be seen as positive character growth.

And then, the final kicker is, they gloss over his entire abuse. You can only read about these shit in his profile, which most people don't because they don't Have Him or doesn't care to unlock it/read it online, and they jammed his entire backstory into a flaccid info-dump at the end of his character story quest. This man isn't Allowed to feel abused and neglected and show any reaction to it within the narrative of Fontaine itself, because if they actually Gave Weight to what happened to him, they'd have to confront THE FUCKING JUSTICE SYSTEM they had NO PLANS on criticising. I don't think they ever explicitly said the fucking Crime-Theatre nonsense was Bad either.

I could go on, but this is already so long. But yeah, I hope this gave you an idea.

[clegfly]

“Of course you have an Other Brother,” he says, waving off her denial as he opens some nearby cabinets. “Who else would I be if I wasn’t?”

Small WIP sketch of the Other Brother from IDKSomethingClever99’s fic “Mari in the Pink Palace”!!! OMORI and Coraline are my two biggest interests ever so this fic was like winning the lottery for me. Not to mention how good it is… please go read it ragh

[bacchuschucklefuck]

laying here spinning in my head 1/adaine's new gf meets riz for the first time fic or 2/riz and baron fake dating for event thing fic maybe I just wanna think abt future stuff for my guy. just pure thinkin bout him chillin kickin ass

[starlooove]

No bc fuck tim but it really really bothers me how people ignore his growth like he used to be an asshole and I’ll give tim Stans one thing: now he’s so so so stale but what I disagree with is that this staleness is bc nobody likes him like it’s in fact the exact opposite where everyone likes him so much they dont want to do anything. Even when it’s him surface level challenging Bruce it’s when everyone else is doing it too; but he’s still the backbone of the fam! Etc. and it’s so irritating bc him gaining more compassion and empathy even for people he doesn’t fw is so fun to watch and that’s why the captain boomerang thing was so out of character! (Not in a from the author way but in a tim wouldn’t do that and he and Bruce both knew it which is why it went down like it did. Same way dick killing joker was ooc; not in fanon sense but in a he would hate himself forever for this sense) and speaking of that it’s such an interesting mirror to Bruce who genuinely believes that everyone can grow vs Tim’s it doesn’t matter if they grow it’s not my decision to make like it’s the same but it’s not AND WITH CASS’ IT DOESNT MATTER IF THEY CHOOSE NOT TO GROW I WONT DO IT! like ugh. And anyways even when people acknowledge it they boil it down to “Janet and Jack taught him that the capitalist pigs that they are” like no. This is who tim was. Tim was the kind of guy who’d blame a dead kid for dying. That’s ok. Also Janet and Jack? Please reread anything involving them that’s not a fic like Jack had anger issues and they were both aloof at worst like relax.

[thecasscain]

reading the comics of a character after coming from fanon really does showcase how fandom so often does not use a character to its fullest potential, often defaulting to simpler, blander mischaracterisations/archetypes. more utilising the idea of a character concept than an actual character. not to be bitter, fanon can be a fun starting point to a character you don't know, but why not start to engage with the actual character after? it's so much fun?

[sevenines]

i find how in fics i’ve read recently, writers (who clearly are normal-to-tall height) write in short characters’ povs sooo interesting. interestingly it’s mostly with peridot (rather than steven or amethyst) where shortness is a fixation. they’re constantly reminded of their shortness and “curse this tall world and tall people!!” when in reality short people don’t always think about being short because that’s just how they live.

[thiscatiscreepy]

So I'm rewriting The Smell and I thiiink I just finished the first (and shortest) chapter. I might post the next chapters of the fic here as I progress (the red fanfic website is blocked over here and i don't care enough about it to use a vpn)

I would really appreciate feedback on pacing and word choice and stuff like that, but if you just want to read about Marius having a weird one, you're more than welcome.

Anyway, Chapter one, A Dream.

Sirens wailed and gunshots sounded as Marius approached an immense concrete building. In that moment, he wasn't driven by murderous glee, morbid curiosity or even basic boredom, but pure, unfiltered hatred. There wasn't a single thing or person that made his jaw clench or his hands curl into fists like that crumbling edifice. And for the life of himself, he couldn't explain why.

Inside, the air was hot and thick and made his head swim. The lobby was empty, its occupants either cowering, dead outside or retreated downstairs. That's where he was heading as well.

Someone was beside him. He glanced at Raphaella with a rifle in her hands. Strange, he thought, she didn't favour firearms, the recoil didn't mix well with her habit of flying everywhere.

They found a door that led to the staircase. Looking over the railing, the descent seemed endless. Marius proceeded regardless, with Raphaella closely behind. The ground above them rumbled from an explosion, dislodging dust in a grey snow. They passed dark labs and empty offices until they reached a library-like server room with its tall stacks of powerful processors.

Cautiously, they entered, and were shot at. Raphaella took off while Marius ducked behind an overturned table. He fired at the assailant and it fell to the floor. Hearing shots from above, he looked up to see Raphaella press against a wall as she fired at more armed things. Worry rose in him, she was too exposed. As he opened his mouth to shout for her to fly lower, a shot sounded from below, and the scientist gasped and fell, her metal wings making a horrible clutter. Marius jumped from behind the table and ran to her, shooting the gunners in his way.

Raphaella lay face-down in a pool of her own blood, limbs splayed, a wound through her chest. As he reached for her, a bullet hit his shoulder. He swore and shot back, then dragged her behind a cover and continued shooting the creatures. His shoulder stang. Warm blood spread on the floor.

After some time, the armed beings stopped coming. Marius sighed and turned to Raphaella. She was still lying face down, still motionless, still bleeding. He touched his own shoulder, the gunshot wound had already stitched itself up.

How much blood did she have?

He shook her by the shoulder. She was cold and rigid.

How could she still bleed when she was already so stiff?

He whispered her name, then repeated it louder, and louder again. She lay bleeding. He withdrew his hand, it dripped with blood.

How was she still bleeding?

His heart beat wildly in his chest. He reached to turn her over, to look at her face, but stopped his hand short.

How was she still bleeding?

Fear seized him. He felt - knew - that whatever had happened to her face would be too awful to witness. Still, curiosity and urgency pushed him to see her monstrous image.

How was she still bleeding?

As if possessed, his shaky hands moved to the woman's unmoving body on their own. One took her shoulder, turned Raphaella of her side, and held her so. Blood gushed freely from beside her breast.

How was she still breathing?

Blood-soaked hair clang to her face. The other hand reached to move it away and see the horrible face at last. Marius was powerless to stop it.

How was she still bleeding?

He couldn't breathe as his fingers touched the dark red strands of hair and- "Attention crew."

The doctor jumped out of sleep at the booming voice of the ship.

"Attention crew," she repeated, as Marius rubbed his eyes, "inhabited planet located in the nearest system, landing in approximately four months. Take stock of supplies. I repeat-"

Marius tried to recall what his strange dream had been about, and why it made his stomach turn. But as the Aurora recited her message, the dream slipped from his mind until all that was left of it was an uneasy tightness in his throat.

The ship concluded her announcement, and Marius' quarters fell into the comfortable ambience of machinery whirring quietly behind the walls. Soon, he drifted back to sleep, and dreamed of birds.

[lem-argentum]

it took me until dt to change rudy's hairstyle, but i ACTUALLY think he would've cut it back in post-stb when he became a reaper. the trope of "character cuts hair to feel more in control of their life" is cliché but REAL. and also the visual of him cutting it with his scythe is fun

[rosenfey]

traditional writing is really where it's at for me, I have just written more on paper than I have managed to write on a keyboard in months