#because my savings is basically nothing at this point. like nothing that can help in a dire situation anymore.

[technovillain]

*Imagine there's an anon ask from roughly a year ago here asking me to share "what campers I thought become Psychonauts/what each of them end up getting up to when they're older" here. Imagine it cuz it got deleted randomly. T_T

BACK ON MY PSYCHONAUTS KICK THAT MEANS ITS TIME TO ANSWER YEARS OLD ANON ASKS LET'S GO!!! I have better story ideas for some more than others here...but if you're curious abt what I've written abt any of them, I encourage you to pry, that way I can think abt it harder and develop them further :]

Putting them under the cut, cuz breaking them down will be Long.

Let me preempt this section with this thought: every former camper of Whispering Rock ( save for maybe a few bad eggs ) is offered a job to work for the Psychonauts agency once they're of employment age. That's what you get for going to Secret Government Agency Summer Camp as a kid. You get weird letters in the mail for life. But hey, nice job, maybe?? In addition to this, particularly talented campers with high psychic aptitude and teamwork skills are offered a shot at the Intern Program at the Motherlobe.

Razputin becomes the superstar agent he always dreamed of becoming. He would pick it anyways, but at this point it's almost like he wouldn't have a say, with the way that the organization has sort of relied on him since he was 10 years old. I think he learns the hard way how much doing field work, like actual danger situations not just inside someone's mind, can take a toll on you quickly. Eventually he ends up taking a break, a "sort of running away from it all" type hiatus from agent work to go back and work with his family's circus again. No matter what happens, he always ends up going back and forth between these two things. Completed the intern program and specializes in Clairvoyance (much to his dismay) and favors Blastokinesis in the field.

Lili ends up in a situation similar to Raz, what with being very tied up with the organization from a really young age (even younger for her). But she gets the bonus points of stress of "being a Zanotto working for the Psychonauts means you'll probably end up in some big important role someday...doesn't it?" I'd argue that Lili would fall into the realm of trying to keep her image spotless and becoming a real precision agent, getting really good in high-stakes crisis situations. Was an intern for longer than anybody else, and specializes in both Herbaphony and Pyrokinesis.

Dogen is a training field agent for a while but has a bad accident and basically goes into hiding... He goes through a really similar thing to Compton, but he isolates himself so much that he really starts to scare other people. He starts to search for a way to make himself "un-psychic" and this gets him accidentally involved with some dangerous forces who are looking for an 'in' to mess with the Psychonauts. He struggled his way through the intern program as a teen and maybe sort of didn't really graduate it. Obviously Blastokinesis is his speciality, but in the field he did his best to repress that entirely and was a Mental Shield assisting agent.

Bobby goes through a whole arc of recovery and finding out his family lore. It's worth mentioning that I hc Loboto to be his father, and he lived with his grandparents growing up, and eventually got kicked out of that house. With nowhere to go, the Psychonauts as an organization pretty much ended up raising him. It takes a whole psychic village to raise a horrible little child. He still can be a jerk but he's a good guy now... Did the intern program, begrudgingly, because he "had nothing better to do". Specializes in Blastokinesis and Pyrokinesis.

Crystal gets her life turned around with the help of psychic outreach programs in her young teen years. She was taken on as an agent for a while, but finds her passions lie with helping others. She ends up working at Psychoisolation, helping active agents to recover from the things they've seen. Does most of her work inside the minds of other psychics. Specializes in Mental Connection.

Kitty becomes the big breakout "spotlight" agent that everyone has heard about, even being well known in nonpsychic circles. She has a full blown Hollywood celebrity vibe, despite the fact that none of her coworkers act that way and (most) at the agency don't view her that way. She's still a messy person. She's very hot and cold, wishy-washy, does whatever she wants. Has a complex relationship with Razputin, and consequently, Lili too. Maintains a mostly unrequited facade of an "Agent Rivalry" between her and Elka Doom. Completed the intern program with flying colors. Specializes in Hypnosis/Confusion and Electrokinesis.

Elka becomes an agent. She's always on the verge of about six different breakdowns. She keeps her image mostly clean and mysterious to the outside observer. Despite living her life waiting for impending disaster she still tries to stay on the side of good. She becomes an iconic "write about her in the comics" agent with a difficult relationship to her psychic powers... Completed the intern program at a young age. Specializes in Precognition.

Vernon works under Adam Joseph Gette as Psychic historians for the agency for a while as part of his internship. Eventually he decides to branch out, getting really into photography and field research. He becomes fascinated with the Rhombus of Ruin and its tales of disappearance and mystery. He gets approved for a reconnaissance mission there with Elton Fir (and Benny Fideleo too...kinda.) Completed the intern program. Isn’t a regular field agent but works at the Motherlobe. Specializes in Astral Projection.

Elton never lets go of his sailor aesthetic, but he kind of has no choice, because Hydrokinesis and Zoolingualism (namely with fish) are his specialty. He still harbors feelings for Milka, despite things becoming...really complicated. Recently he's been working with his buddy Vernon in the depths of the Rhombus of Ruin, trying to uncover the mystery of the Psilirium there. He was never in the intern program, he worked in a shipyard until being offered a job from the Psychonauts. Being their marine mission specialist has really boosted his confidence.

Benny really thought his job working for the Psychonauts would be cooler. But he isn’t allowed to work in the field because he can’t get over his *ahem* panic reactions to danger. He failed every test he was given. He’s just a chicken. So much to his dismay, he has to stay back at base. Behind a desk. Watching blips on a screen in the Nerve Center. Blahhh. There aren’t a lot of transmissions to come back from the dead radio zone of the Rhombus, but when they come through?? He’ll be ready. Flunked out of the intern program. Doesn’t get to use his psychic powers much, except using TK to mess with people when he’s bored.

Mikhail ditched Maloof. And he was probably the only one to ever do that and live to tell the tale. Went back home for a while, but came back and did the intern program when he was a little older. Specializes in Telekinesis but now has a special Zoolingualism tie to bears. He's a good guy agent, sure. But he absolutely will Sic The Bears On You.

Franke never grew out of her “yes-man” tendencies. In fact, it could be said that she leaned into them tenfold. She has taken it upon herself to work as an “assistant” to the superstar agents, doing physical, emotional, and my god janitorial duties for them. She focuses mainly on Kitty and Elka, but she’ll suck up to anyone. Lili wishes she would hit the bricks. Franke doesn’t use her powers often on account of having something Ford dubbed “psitanium sickness” flareups on the regular. Basically, her brain accumulates a lot of psitanium, but for whatever reason, she doesn’t have the firepower to dish it back out as psychic energy. So it builds up in her head. Gives her freaky purple eyes. So routinely, agents will go into her brain to farm psitanium. And she loves it.

Clem, after drifting apart from Crystal, kind of just fell to pieces. Home life was not good, so the job offer from the Psychonauts was refreshing. But what is Clem’s job exactly?? Does anybody know? Does moping ominously in the Quarry and making everyone really anxious count as a job? Does talking to a very very old woman in the Gulch about having an identity crisis count as a career? Who’s to say! “Specializes” in Mental Projection.

J.T. becomes the new groundskeeper at Whispering Rock. Never was in the intern program, was offered an office job. Worked it for all of 2 months before he felt crazy. You can’t put this cowboy indoors. He’s a much better groundskeeper than Ford was. He actually prioritizes keeping the kids safe, and they all love him. Hangs out with Mikhail every now and then when he comes to help tame psychic forest animals, and the two get very nostalgic about their summer camp days. Specializes in Levitation.

Maloof becomes a psychic crime boss. Obviously. His mother has a lot of sway over what he does. He has a serious man-child thing going on, so he doesn’t act a whole lot differently than he did as a little kid. Which only makes him more freaky. He holds a lot of grudges against the people who feared and doubted him as a child. Specializes in Mental Projection.

Milka’s bouts of invisibility got worse as her home life soured even more. As a teenager, she tried to join the intern program and better herself, but she developed a real problem with running away from things that were good for her. She dated Elton again as a teen, but ran away from him. She ran away from the Psychonauts as a whole. Simply disappearing into the wind, extremely hard to track. Everyone worries about her. Nobody knows exactly where she is. Some are convinced she actually disappeared somewhere and didn’t just go invisible, as nobody can even track her mental footprint anymore... Specializes in Invisibility.

Chloe is doing her own thing. There are a number of agents who were given the task of “keeping an eye on Chloe Barge” to make sure she doesn’t become some sort of large scale threat or something. But nobody ever really knows what she’s up to. It’s probably got something to do with aliens. And psychic activity. But what the heck is it?? Never joined the intern program, but visited the Motherlobe a couple of times as a teen to use the psychoisolation facilities. Specializes in Photokinesis.

Chops drifted away from the whole psychic scene and got into homeopathic medicine. Keeps his powers on the down-low, and uses them behind people’s backs. Maybe a little shady for blending his light psychic knowledge with plant knowledge and branding it as ‘medicine’, but he means well. There just isn’t a lot of interest in psychics from the Canadian government, so he’s leaving it alone for now.

Phoebe is still working on her music career, and has become a relatively successful indie rock star. Quentin never was taking it seriously enough for her, so they moved on. She was offered a lot of gigs from Morris, but is trying to make it “in the regular world” and declined most of them. She struggles to keep her Pyrokinesis in check still, and it heightens her anxiety on the road, only making it more likely for flareups to happen. Her band members know that she’s psychic, but she doesn’t want to tell anyone else. She calls Lili a lot and she helps Phoebe learn to control her Pyro.

Quentin is running a little farm in Green Needle Gulch. His produce and *ahem* herbs are loved by all sorts of Psychic clientele. He really isn’t interested in any of the agent stuff, or paperwork stuff, he’s just kinda...zooted, idk. Just chilling, and a lot of the more uptight government types in the organization cannot stand that he’s allowed to hang around the gulch.

Nils went to prison on multiple accounts of stalking. He’s still in there. I don’t think anyone misses him, but I’m sure there’s a few people who worry about him getting out. Sort of a looming “it’s only a matter of time before he breaks out and becomes a huge threat” villain. Specializes in Cryokinesis.

[frvnkcastles]

Hi! I love your writing so so much!!

If possible, could you do one where the reader has been working overtime at work and is exhausted, like they've been having headaches and barely sleeping & Frank notices and basically convinces them and helps them to take a break? Thank you!! 💕❤️

KEEP ME COMPANY ’TIL THE END ➵ F. CASTLE

Summary: You’re pushing yourself past your limits for work and Frank intervenes.

Warnings: Stress, mostly fluff, gender neutral reader, language

Word count: 770

Author’s note: Hiiii my loves! I am so sorry for being MIA, this semester is kicking my ass :( Rn it seems like my posts will be a little infrequent because I have sooo many deadlines before Christmas, but I’m gonna try my best!! I have not forgotten about all your requests!! Thank you so much for your patience, thank you also for 900 followers, that’s so wack but I am so grateful <3 Anon, I hope you enjoy this short fic and that you forgive me for being so slow to get this out. Much love!

A brewing headache pinched at your temples and you were painfully aware that every minute you spent staring at your outrageously bright laptop screen only sealed your fate tighter and tighter. It was getting late but you still felt like you had so much to do; like you had barely scratched the surface of all your responsibilities. You had only taken a break to go to the bathroom and reluctantly eat something when Frank had insisted on it, and now the tension from sitting on the couch with your laptop huffing and puffing on your thighs was starting to seep into your shoulders and neck.

Frank didn’t like it, the way you worked yourself to the bone, but he had swallowed down his complaints when you had promised to wrap things up within the hour. Still, you could feel his scrutinizing stare on you from across the couch, his attention on your focused frown rather than the football game he was supposed to be watching. He was itching to say something, to force you away from the suffocating bubble of stress, but he was trying to be patient — though the scratched label of his beer bottle said plenty.

When you winced at the pulsating headache behind your eye, though, he cleared his throat and reached for your laptop.

”Hey! Frank, noooo. I’m not done”, you insisted, trying to get the device back but he was quick to save your document and then slap it closed before you could retrieve it. He angled it behind his back and tutted at you, disapproving of the way you were pushing yourself for the sixth day in a row.

”Nah, sweetheart, I’m tellin’ you, you’re gonna waste away if you don’t take a break. You’ve been at it all day, aight? I want you here with me, not worryin’ about shit”, he argued back, your pout doing nothing to sway him. He always caved in and gave you what you wanted — unless your health and sanity were at stake.

You frowned, a sudden surge of guilt swinging at your chest. ”I guess I’ve been kinda neglecting you…”, you admitted with shame. That had never been your intention, but you couldn’t deny that you had not been a very present partner lately.

Shaking his head, Frank set the beer on the coffee table and took your hand in his own. ”It ain’t about that, darlin’. It’s the fact that this is wearin’ you out. I know you ain’t sleepin’ and I gotta jump through all these hoops to just get you to eat. I’m worried, y’know?” he explained, his tone stern but still warm. He was trying his hardest to be understanding, but he took your well-being too personally to let this newfound routine go on.

You managed a nod and squeezed his hand. ”I know, Frankie, I’m sorry, it’s just… there’s so much to do and I can’t fall behind”, you tried to rationalize your persistent working, and he sighed softly, not out of frustration but to acknowledge the difficult situation.

”I get it, sweetheart. But no one can expect you to be efficient at this hour, aight? You need to rest, too. Yeah?” Frank pointed out, tilting his head to catch your gaze. He was right and you knew it, so begrudgingly, you admitted defeat.

”Okay. I’ll limit myself”, you agreed, and with the concern in his eyes slowly fading, Frank nodded approvingly. He placed the laptop on the table before opening his arms for you, gesturing for you to cuddle up to him. The invitation made you smile and seeing joy on your face for the first time all day got Frank’s lips twitching, too.

You nestled against him and he wrapped you into a cocoon of safety and warmth, hoping to distract you from the stress lingering on your mind. It was hard not to think about all the work you could have been doing, and Frank suspected as much.

”I know it ain’t easy to just turn it off. But you deserve a break, baby. And I’m fuckin’ proud of you for all your effort, but I’ll be proud if you cut back a lil, too”, he spoke up after a moment of just cuddling, and with your heart soaring at his praise, you tilted your head up so you could kiss his jaw tenderly.

”Thank you, Frank. Love you”, you muttered, feeling the exhaustion of the past week creep up on you. Frank noticed, but he was glad — you needed sleep, and he was going to try and help you do it however he could.

”Love you too, sweetheart.”

[amarriageoftrueminds]

Lotta good points!

1) My issue with 'Bucky does everything' is... why the fuck would he want to be friends with Steve, in that case? And why would Steve go to such lengths for someone he couldn't be bothered to support properly before?

It makes being Steve's friend a quite-literally-thankless job, and Steve's 'friendship' amounts to the chance to serve him in return for nothing - no gratitude, no apology, no happiness to see him, no emotional, financial, physical support in return. It makes Steve selfish and self-absorbed, which are antithetical to his defining traits of selflessness and thinking of the little guy.

He can't vaunt those traits in everyone except Bucky, but then turn around and act as if he valued them all along by, eg. saving Bucky, avenging him, etc!

Plus it makes Steve's claims of independence a joke too, which in turn makes it annoying when he turns up in Basic Training and suddenly is able to do things, so that Token Love Interest can look like the first person to recognise his capabilities, when... no, those traits just weren't there, before, on purpose.

CATFA deliberately avoided showing us anything by the way of Steve's abilities, for Bucky to believe in, just to make it look like Bucky is unfairly undervaluing him (nonsense, since he's known Steve his whole life) and that someone else is a better judge. How the fuck is Bucky supposed to know Steve is capable of throwing himself on a grenade?! It's not like they have those lying around in Brooklyn!

5) Bucky using women to disguise his closet is true to the spirit of Arnie Roth, on whom he was partly based. But I still think it's a step too far to suggest he'd chose strangers over friends and family for his last night; even a lesbian couple.

(Or that Steve wouldn't likewise insist on having Bucky's last night in America for just them, even if they weren't a couple).

Unless Bucky's relationship with his family was bad... But we've never seen/heard any suggestion of that? 🤔

Again my thought process is 'why would A be friends with B if B was like this??' (ie. if A was selfish enough to spend their last night with strangers rather than with B).

8) Re: Steve the incel.

You could also play it as Steve having benevolent misogyny values without realising it, putting women up on a pedestal (explaining why he doesn't clock when he has been molested, or assaulted; is shocked when a woman lies to him; maybe thinks the reason he isn't being sexually attracted to women is because they are Too Perfect to sully with sex, etc.)

The only problem with idealising women is that it surely could not survive contact with a troop of foul-mouthed show girls, unless Steve absolutely went out of his way to avoid them??

But if he did have benevolent misogyny, this could maybe manifest in pre-serum Steve delivering long mopey monologues about how whoever he's been set up with is probably too good for him, probably isn't even interested, he's so poor, and sick all the time *cough cough*, unlike her, she would be embarrassed to be seen with him, probably, he's sorry Bucky set her up with him of all people, etc etc ...delivered during the date.

So that by the time Bucky circles back around to their table, no matter how attracted to Steve the girl was initially, she'd be like '🙂 please get me away from here.'

I could also see a queer Steve self-sabotaging by doing this, as a kind of inverse of ladykiller!Bucky.

Either so deeply in the closet that he doesn't even realise he's doing it, is unaware he's not helping his 'passing for straight' problem, thinks he's just looking out for the poor perfect woman, etc. (perhaps even kinda likes that guilt makes Bucky be extra-nice to him for a while after?)

Or, not closeted Steve having a bloody-minded determination not to date because he thinks it's dishonest to the lady; determined to publically crash and burn, so no one ever questions why he hasn't got married yet. And maybe seething and annoyed about having to do this, because he feels bad for wasting the girl's time.

And, yeah, open-book baby gay Steve absolutely glaring at whoever Bucky's dancing with and his own date either clocking him or being like 'woah he really seems obsessed with his friend's girlfriend?'

(I could also see a closeted himbo Steve being like 'yeah Bucky took me to this secret gay bar he knows about for some reason, but it's just because he knows I always fail with women and wanted to give me a night off from that, that's all!' Poor Bucky dropping absolute anvil hints and Steve's not getting it. 😂)

I ended up doing a long old rant on this other post, about the problems with the Steve/Bucky characterisation in CATFA, how it fails to make them mutual in their support / fails to properly show Steve's struggles and independence, before serum.

And I was thinking...

what would you have to do, if you wanted to write a CATFA or pre-war Stucky fic and wanted to fix all those problems?

So I figured I'd make a list!

Pardon me while I rip CATFA a new one...

.

Problem 1) Pre-serum Steve acts as if he's independent and self-reliant without Bucky... when the opposite is shown.

A) He doesn't have a job.

(He isn't shown working, doesn't mention working, or taking time off to do the things we see him doing etc. Bucky is framed as paying for things.)

If the fic is set during CATFA you could fix that by mentioning Steve does have a job but has been given time off to go enlist. Or has just been fired from his job. Basically anything to show that Steve has had a job, has been working. Perhaps even had multiple simultaneous jobs!

Probably cut out the part where Steve scoffs at working in a factory or collecting scrap metal (more likely he'd admire and/or understand why both of those are viable options; maybe they're jobs he has done in the past and is biased against now, for some experiential-related reason.)

Or, if he still does not want to work in a factory... well, at the time, with most men being overseas, factory work would've been women's work. So perhaps Steve was reluctant because it feels emasculating. Or maybe even dysphoric, to be relegated to otherwise female-only spaces, instead of welcomed into (then) male-only spaces like the Army? 🤔

(This would especially ring true if you were doing a trans!Steve story, or emphasising the disability aspect of his life. And it would cycle back when he gets stuck in the USO, doing women's work again.)

B) It would also be better characterisation if pre-serum Steve was already good at fighting, but just happened to be outclassed by heavier weight opponents, and/or hindered sudden disability flare ups mid-fight. (In the tie-in comic, Bucky taught him how to box. Why not keep this?)

And also if his health was in a lifetime high point, then it would be less nonsensical to be trying to lie his way into the Army. There has to be some actual common sense and logic behind his choice, so that he's not essentially snapping 'Bucky why won't you support me committing suicide, gdi?'

Steve shouldn't be getting his first real win by knocking down a flagpole; he should've been showing this capability in his pre-war / pre-Army time, too.

You could emphasise the idea of Steve entering a fight he knows he's going to lose, in order to accomplish a secondary goal that the enemy doesn't recognise. IE. Steve fighting the bully in the alleyway -- he loses the fight, but succeeds in stopping the bully from making a scene in the cinema, which was his original goal. So mention it!

(Steve could be like 'winning this fight wasn't the point.' And Bucky could be like 'ah, so what were you distracting him from?')

.

Problem 2) The support is imbalanced; Bucky's doing all the emotional, financial, and physical labour in the relationship.

You could fix that by showing how pre-serum Steve was not only mutually financially supportive (in the sense of having a job), but was also supporting Bucky emotionally and physically, just as much as Bucky supported him. He could be doing at least 2 of the 3!

Possible Examples:

Bucky going through an emotionally hard time that pre-serum Steve pulls him through (just as Bucky did with Steve's Ma).

Steve treating Bucky's wounds after a fight, just as Bucky treats his. (If Bucky's a boxer, like the tie-in comic, then Steve could be his cut man when he's in the ring!)

Steve paying for some of their expenses, or finding places to take Bucky that are free when it's his turn to plan a day out, etc.

.

Problem 3: Sarah & problem 2.

If this is CATFA / post-death setting, show flashbacks or make references to Steve visiting her in hospital, or doing the work of nursing her himself / sitting by her bedside if she died at home, paying for her medicine, etc.

So that it's not just another example of Bucky wholly carrying Steve; show the balance. Maybe Bucky was temporarily footing the bill so that Steve could afford to quit his job and do the nursing at home. Both putting the work in, in different ways.

(This would be a perfect example of one way Bucky's experience of looking after sick Steve would pay off, and make him able to teach Steve how to do it when the roles are reversed.)

Better yet, a show-don't-tell of Sarah instilling Steve's moral compass and tenacity; maybe even some Bucky POV to show her impact isn't just relegated to Steve.

Her absence could also be shown in present day with Steve, eg. packing up his things to go to basic and having to leave behind some keepsake of hers.

.

Problem 4: The relationship is framed as transactional.

Less 'I'll do X for Bucky now because he did Y for me back then' and more 'helping Bucky is the right thing to do because he's innocent so I'm going to do it regardless of outside whining, and he would still do the same thing for me, or anyone else, because he's a good person.'

There has to be more to it than just convenience, needing each other around to help; there has to be an actual desire to be together for pure enjoyment, too.

IMO you'd need at least one scene where Steve and Bucky aren't benefiting in some way from spending energy on eachother. They're just... happy being together.

And perhaps Bucky isn't the only friend pre-serum Steve could have had, just the one Steve most wanted to stick with. (His options should amount to more than 'Bucky or no one.') Perhaps Steve's health absences and strong principles drove other friendship prospects away?

.

Problem 5: A's problems are framed as B's.

No more 'Steve getting attacked' being framed as a problem for Bucky.

No more 'Bucky being drafted to die' framed as a problem for Steve.

Better characterisation would show these bad things affect the victim first and foremost, and only/also the other one, secondarily.

Steve shouldn't be seeing Bucky's shipping-out uniform (skipping right over thank yous and congratulations) and talking about how that's sad for... himself.

Steve shouldn't be sabotaging Bucky's last night of freedom in NYC to spend it on... his own goals.

Sidenote: Bucky wanting to spend his last night of freedom with strangers is such idiotic writing anyway, when he has both Steve and a living family with whom he could be spending those last precious moments! And dragging Steve on a double blind date he clearly doesn't want to go on is counter-productive. It undermines the mutually-supportive / mutually communicative relationship Steve and Bucky should logically have, as lifelong inseparable best friends, and shifts the blame for Steve's singlehood off of him and onto Bucky and women generally.

Steve shouldn't be detailing why he's so keen to fight, and focusing on random men he doesn't know, not directly/unequivocally mentioning Bucky at all (indirectly, he wants to be like the men laying down their lives -- so... like Bucky? But this is still nonsense. He should want to be there to support Bucky, not to copy!)

It's likewise nonsense for Bucky, who has known Steve since he was a child, to ask Steve why he's keen to fight. Bucky doesn't need to ask. Bucky already knows. Lazy clumsy exposition.

And the narrative should be showing us why, rather than having Steve infodump it without anything to back it up.

Speaking of which...

.

Problem 6: Lack of explicit politics.

Like in the comics, Steve's reasons for fighting Nazis should be explicitly left wing and political, as well as personal.

(Wanting to be like able-bodied men who get girlfriends is complete cringe incel bullshit as a motivation and not true to the comics, or CEvans's performance!)

Proper Steve characterisation should have him behaving in a way that shows he's a man ahead of his time in terms of Antifa politics, and that's why he wants to fight.

IE. happily sharing housing and schooling with people of other races, ethnicities, and religions. (Especially so when he has been in the same SEC as them / been in multiple different schools and lived in various neighbourhoods as a poor kid.)

Not judging and mistreating disabled people the way he is.

Not judging unmarried mothers, belittling working women, expecting his mother to do all the housework, etc.

Not freaking out about the existence of queer people in public (even in an AU where he isn't one) defending gay men from attack as he does in the comics,

protesting and/or sabotaging public Nazi meetings in NYC, fighting with homegrown Nazi bullies especially, ditto corrupt business owners / mafia union-runners as he does in the comics, etc.

The Hydra saboteur should not be the first Nazi Steve ever got his hands on!

And Bucky should be an addendum when it comes to his reasoning. The heart of Steve's motive, where politics are the guts.

.

Problem 7: No disability rep.

A) Steve should not be saying that he, a disabled man, shouldn't have the 'right' to do less than able-bodied men, even though it is literally physically impossible...

...UNLESS, this internalized ableism is addressed in-story, rather than treated as if it's normal and even noble.

Other characters can be ableist; Steve should not (not only is he disabled himself, but he's supposed to know better!) unless it's part of an arc that shows that this trait is weird in him, and he learns the error of his ways.

Instead it could be shown that his health has recently become good enough for him to survive and succeed in the Army. Without Steve arguing that he should throw his disabled life away, just because able-bodied men are taking a significantly lesser risk of dying than him.

B) There should be actual details of Steve's disabilities, what they are and how they affect him. (Him - not Bucky.) In a way that has concrete negative consequences, beyond just not getting into the Army.

Possible Examples:

Steve being held back a year at school because of missing days due to sickness. Kids can be cruel and parents can be ignorant; he might've been bullied and ostracised for being sick and believed contagious.

Kid Steve having to move around a lot (which would also affect which school he'd have to attend) because losing money to medicine affects what his mother can afford, affects her work schedule when she has to look after him. Living in a worse place would then exacerbate his pre-existing symptoms, and so on.

Adult!Steve losing a job because of sick days, losing savings to pay for medicine, getting sick again because he either chose heating and groceries over medicine or vice versa, etc.

(This / the moving-around might be mitigated if he and Bucky are living together, meaning Bucky could make up the shortfall.)

Steve could lose friendships or romantic partners due to sickness taking him out of social circulation.

You could also play into the Nazi eugenics then endemic to the USA and have medical professionals telling Steve he shouldn't be alive; 'well-meaning' people offering to pray for him, saying they'd have 'given up' if they were born like him, etc.

And Steve should, maybe, mention once or twice that he feels better after serum and truly couldn't be doing what he's doing in Europe, if superserum hadn't also cured all his ailments?

If he's much more peppy afterwards, it should be because for the first time in his life he can actually breathe and spring out of bed!

.

Problem 8) The Incelery.

Pre-serum Steve should not be framed as undateable because he's short and disabled.

If Steve hasn't had a girlfriend, it should be because he didn't want one, not because evil women are repulsed by invisible health issues or Bucky is too dreamy for a disabled man to possibly compete with, be so fr. 🙄

You could fix this by making Steve: gay,

ace,

demi,

coincidentally surrounded by lesbians,

by women who have horrible unattractive politics,

too sick or busy with work to date,

getting attention but it's the wrong kind (ie. women who want to fetishize or nanny him),

and/or being very attractive to women even before serum but oblivious and/or simply not interested. 😂

/more than one of the above.

.

[lateseptemberdawn]

No but like. Men could be the lowest of the low, not be knowing the most basic shit, inept at wit or anything else pertaining to the brain or mind or conscious, and yet the audacity be there. Like. How.

[seilon]

shouldn’t have checked my bank account as expected my mother has taken thousands more dollars from my savings and has almost run me dry more or less. Cool!

[monsterfactoryfanfic]

if I've learned anything from grad school it's to check your sources, and this has proven invaluable in the dozens of instances when I've had an MBA-type try to tell me something about finances or leadership. Case in point:

Firefox serves me clickbaity articles through Pocket, which is fine because I like Firefox. But sometimes an article makes me curious. I'm pretty anal about my finances, and I wondered if this article was, as I suspected, total horseshit, or could potentially benefit me and help me get my spending under control. So let's check the article in question.

It mostly seems like common sense. "...track expenses and income for at least a month before setting a budget...How much money do I have or earn? How much do I want to save?" Basic shit like that. But then I get to this section:

This sounds fucking made up to me. And thankfully, they've provided a source to their claim that "research has repeatedly shown" that writing things down changes behavior. First mistake. What research is this?

Forbes, naturally, my #1 source for absolute dogshit fart-sniffing financial schlock. Forbes is the type of website that guy from high school who constantly posts on linkedin trawls daily for little articles like this that make him feel better about refusing to pay for a decent package for his employees' healthcare (I'm from the United States, a barbaric, conflict-ridden country in the throes of civil unrest, so obsessed with violence that its warlords prioritize weapons over universal medical coverage. I digress). Forbes constantly posts shit like this, and I constantly spend my time at leadership seminars debunking poor consultants who get paid to read these claims credulously. Look at this highlighted text. Does it make sense to you that simply writing your financial goals down would result in a 10x increase in your income? Because if it does, let me make you an offer on this sick ass bridge.

Thankfully, Forbes also makes the mistake of citing their sources. Let's check to see where this hyperlink goes:

SidSavara. I've never heard of this site, but the About section tells me that Sid is "a technology leader who empowers teams to grow into their best selves. He is a life-long learner enjoys developing software, leading teams in delivering mission critical projects, playing guitar and watching football and basketball."

That doesn't mean anything. What are his LinkedIn credentials? With the caveat that anyone can lie on Linkedin, Mr. Savara appears to be a Software Engineer. Which is fine! I'm glad software engineers exist! But Sid's got nothing in his professional history which suggests he knows shit about finance. So I'm already pretty skeptical of his website, which is increasingly looking like a personal fart-huffing blog.

The article itself repeats the credulous claim made in the Forbes story earlier, but this time, provides no link for the 3% story. Mr. Savara is smarter than his colleages at Forbes, it's much wiser to just make shit up.

HOWEVER. I am not the first person to have followed this rabbit hole. Because at the very top of this article, there is a disclaimer.

Uh oh!

Sid's been called out before, and in the follow up to this article, he reveals the truth.

You can guess where this is going.

So to go back to the VERY beginning of this post, both Pocket/Good Housekeeping and Forbes failed to do even the most basic of research, taking the wild claim that writing down your budget may increase your income by 10x on good faith and the word of a(n admittedly honest about his shortcomings) software engineer.

Why did I spend 30 minutes to make a tumblr post about this? Mostly to show off how smart I am, but also to remind folks of just how flimsy any claim on the internet can be. Click those links, follow those sources, and when the sources stop linking, ask why.

[silentcryracha]

❍ ‗ Showering with Bang Chan ‗ ❍

Pairing : Bang Chan x f reader

Summary : chapter one of a cute standalone miniseries. It's what it says in the title

Genre/ Warnings : scenario/imagine/headcanon, drabble, nudity and suggestive themes involved but no smut fluff, literally ONE angst word, domestic!, channie best boyfriend idc

Word count : 500

A/n : none

ps: There could be grammar errors. Do NOT repost on other socials. Leave feedback if you feel like it, otherwise enjoy! ♡︎

masterlist

series masterpost

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

Imagine showering with Chan. It could either go very chill or very *exciting*. Usually starts with the first and follows with the second BUT- just in general it would be such an intimate time. The possibilities are endless to be honest.

You came to a certain point in your relationship in which you were a hundred percent comfortable with each other. And most importantly loved doing things for each other!

"Can you massage in the conditioner for me?" "Of course baby"

You'd both help the other, moving your hands up and down each other's bodies, often giving small massages and relaxing the tense muscles. Chan especially just melts whenever you touch him, two of his favorite spots bing his neck and shoulders.

"Oh my Gosh that hurts so good" he whines as your fingers work his aching neck, basically turned marble from being bent over a laptop all day.

"It hurts or it's nice, which one is it?" you tease him, chuckling. He groans slightly, almost too gone to even answer.

"Shush. Mmh, both. I don't know, just keep going" his head first leaning forward then back, almost touching your shoulder.

You'd relax together, getting all soapy and wet under the hot water. Sometimes just lazily hugging and making out, losing track of time.

"We should get out, it's getting so hot I think I may pass out" you murmur against his swollen lips. He starts kissing your neck instead, humming.

"You flatter me too much" it takes you a second to let sink in what he just said, but when it did, you lightly slapped his naked shoulder, snorting a laugh.

"Stupid" he smiled, chuckling cheekily, and you could literally feel it on your skin.

Sometimes it was a matter of saving time instead of having fun, though. Maybe one morning you were both running late so while he was shaving you were also shaving, or washing your hair. Or vice versa honestly.

And other times again you even had small arguments while showering. Nothing really major because it wasn't exactly appropriate to pour out your feelings while being literally naked and wet, but a few times it did happen.

It usually either ended up being interrupted and finishing once you were both dry and ready to go at each other, or literally be the calming moment you needed to clear things up.

"I'm sorry if i was an asshole earlier" he rests his forehead on the nape of your neck, wrapping his arms around you. You sigh, placing your hands on his jointed ones.

"I know you're very stressed" you start, turning your head to the side searching for his, "But thanks for the apology nonetheless"

"I love you", he nuzzled his nose on your cheek.

"I love you too" you pecked him on the lips as a confirmation you forgave him.

Anyways lots of cuddles and massages and kisses and stuff!! Chan king of caring for his partner 100% <3

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

[alexaloraetheris]

On the subject of being your own zookeeper, I've been trying it out and it WORKS. One of the obvious ways is to ask 'Have I watered/fed/medicated the beast?' and take care of those needs, and it's great, but another thing I haven't seen mentioned is the Stressors.

So, being a bio grad student, means I also know actual zoologists and zookeepers. And talking with one blew my third eye open. One of the questions the zookeeper always, ALWAYS needs to keep an eye on is 'What is stressing the beast out, and how can I remove it?'

In human terms, it's basically 'This thing is causing me a minor amount of stress, but stress is cumulative, so how many small stressors can I remove so the Big Stress doesn't drain so much of my energy?'

Say you're stressing about an exam/interview/visitors. There's ways to prepare for that, but before you get to that point you also need to look out for small stressors that add to the overall feeling of stress, and the goal is to reduce them FIRST.

Example: You have a big test and it's the day you need to take it. You are already baseline anxious about taking it, and the goal here is to stress as little as possible on the way to school.

You can't eat breakfast because you're late/nauseous? Keep small energy bars in your purse, snack on the way. Gives you a bit of sugar for your brain, doesn't take up time and always on hand. Haven't had time for coffee? Caffeine pills/espresso chocolates. It's cold/raining? Ditch your sneakers and wear rain boots and a warm coat, worry about fashion later. I even carry around a foldable cushion so I can sit while I wait for the bus without freeting my butt off. Haven't had time to brush your teeth? Gum, mints, breath fresheners. Nervous? Fidget toys. Worried about losing an umbrella? Get one of those plastic sleeves so you can put it in your purse even if it's wet. Too damn hot? Mini fan, or even a folding paper fan. Noise level grating on your nerves? Silicone earplugs, or noise-cancelling earbuds/headphones. (I have a big purse I carry all this stuff in so I don't forget, a blessing with ADHD)

Things like that. Small things to mitigate the microstressors so you arrive to your destinations with as little misery as possible.

Apply that to the rest of your life. You have to eat vegetables for your health but you hate them so damn much? Find a way to prepare them in a way that doesn't make you gag. I just throw a bag of frozen pre-chopped veggies in the pan and then throw in spices I like. If I can taste the vegetables in my veggie stir-fry, I haven't seasoned them enough.

Make little medicine bag, the size of your palm. I carry nasal degongestant spray, ibuprofen, eye drops, mini bug spray, a pad and a tampon, a few alcohol wipes and hand cream. Those tiny tester tubes of hand cream? A godsend. Adjust to your needs.

I hate washing dishes. Back hurts and my skin literally peels off my hands from the dryness. Get a bar stool and sit, wear WELL FITTED dish gloves. I got those that go all the way up my elbows in S size and now my kitchen doesn't look like a disaster.

Vacuuming is a pain? Handheld vacuum cleaner you can push around for 15 minutes every day. Expensive? Get a broom and a good dustpan. I emphasize GOOD because it does make a difference. Back hurts if you bend over? Get the dustpan with a long handle.

It's amazing how much difference it makes. Neutralize Murphy's law. A bunch of small stuff going wrong will absolutely tank your energy you need for the big stuff.

TL;DR Identify the things that cause you daily stress, find easy ways to neutralize them. Save your energy for the big stuff. There is nothing noble in suffering. Take care of your zoo animal.

And if you need it, ask for help. Zookeepers often work in pairs.

[sunnystars2023]

Boyfriend Headcannons; K. Bakugo.

Synopsis; how Katsuki Bakugo acts as a boyfriend.

Word count-516

Bakugo calls you all sorts of things his constantly used ones for you are Carrots, Dumbass, Hops, Stupid ass, Babe, Baby.

Katsuki is the type to seem like he's not listening to a word you're saying but really is. Like you could be rambling about nothing and think he's not listening and he like "carrots why'd you fucking stop".

Bakugo gets really irritated when too people speak to him at once or when people interrupt over the others when its not important. With his group of extras(friends) this tends to happen a lot. Loads of chaotic people.

Bakugo who doesn't know how to communicate tries really hard to communicate with you because you communicate so well so he feels less than when he can't put it into words for you.

Katsuki gets really riled up if you don't allow him to help you. You help him so much in so many different ways so how dare you not allow him to take your dish back to the kitchen or throw away your trash.

Katsuki who keeps every single thing you have ever given to him, from gum rappers with little love notes and gifts, to coke tabs that you had left in his room.

Katsuki who is so protective over you. He won't let anyone take you away, Not a Villain and definitely not another lame ass person. But he understands and trust you to take matters into your own hands and only steps in when he needs.

Bakugo who always makes sure that you've eaten, drank water, and gotten rest. Sometimes you have so much happening in your brain that you forget to do the basics so he gonna be the one to remind.

Bakugo who has a hard time verbalizing how he feels so he shows you. He tells you he loves you by his actions. Not that he won't say 'I love you' its just sometimes the words get stuck in his throat and don't come out, but that gets better with time as he warms up to you.

Katsuki who tries to keep up with your crazy ass but sometimes you end up going too fast for your self. Funny enough he ends up being the one to mellow you out.

Bakugo is very intense and has a... rich and explosive personality so that makes a quite dynamic difference in your relationship but thats also what causes it to work. You who is chaotic but caring and sweet but also headstrong going with his energy makes your relationship so perfect.

Katsuki who has to care for you because you can be pretty reckless when it comes to your safety. You don't think about what could happen to you you think of who it could save. So Bakugo has to care for you.

Katsuki always has what you need. Point blank.

Katsuki who remembers every single thing you've told him. From every crazy idea to your favorite flower.

👾🌀⭐️🐸⭐️🌀👾🔋👾🌀⭐️🐸⭐️🌀👾

Masterlist <-here

Thank you sm for reading! Want more content check out my wattpad @sunnystars2023!

[lucysarah-c]

Scratches down his back

Summary: Repeat after me, nothing good happens in the common showers unless it’s Levi sandwiching you with the wet wall. Sadly, this is not the case. So, nothing good will happen.  Author's Note: I'm revisiting this piece, my second-ever Levi fanfiction, after Tumblr inexplicably removed it. I've made a few alterations, so if you recall the original, you might notice some differences. I've attempted to recreate it to the best of my memory. Despite initially intending it to be full NSFW, I've reconsidered; it doesn't quite match the tone I'm aiming for. This leans more towards being a Crack fic than an NSFW one. Warning: This story contains suggestive themes but nothing explicit. Word Count: 2.8k

She lotioned up, fingers deftly twisting and knotting the towel around her body to keep it from slipping. Annoying groans echoed in the humid tiled space as she struggled to finish her routine while maintaining modesty and not taking up too much space. 

"Holy Sheena," a voice called from her right, making her turn around hastily. 

"What?" she responded. 

Hange walked closer, seeming less concerned about covering up after coming out of the shower. "Those bruises... tell Shorty he's supposed to fuck you, not try to kill you," they joked. 

She sighed intently and found the well-marked fingertips around her hips, washing away marks around her wrists and the obvious hickeys and bite marks on her inner thighs and lower collarbone to conceal them from daily life. Y/N couldn't help but chuckle. 

"Forgot I had those," she commented, momentarily happy before furrowing her brow again. "I can't find anything here!" 

The former HQ of the scouts lacked a pumping water system, everything (despite her boyfriend's attempts) smelled of mold and humidity. The place was freezing due to the tall ceilings and lack of proper insulation, especially in the middle of the forest where temperatures dropped the lowest. Having to shower there, under shaky candlelight, with buckets of water and a cup to pour it on her body was a nightmare. 

"How could you forget?" Hange seemed less stressed about the shower situation, either because they had fewer steps in their routine or because they were less ashamed. 

"I got used to it, and I usually don't share bathrooms, so no one can see me naked," she explained, searching among her personal hygiene items for the next step in her routine. "I forgot how impractical communal showers were." 

"Ah, yes, because you and your hubby have all the space for yourselves," the brunette joked, making kissing sounds to annoy her further. 

"You're just jealous that my love life is very active," she retorted. 

"Don't point those fingers at me, save those assumptions for Erwin," Hange teased. 

Their banter made her laugh and nod slightly in agreement. "Speaking of which, did he send you here to help with something?" 

"Supervise a bit of the situation for him and fill out reports for the MPs and the military board," Y/N explained casually as she started to put on comfy clothes. 

"So, basically... a conjugal visit so Levi doesn't get blue balls," They quipped. 

Coughing loudly as the foam from the toothpaste made her choke in shock, she spat into the sink before looking up, blushing deeply. "HANGE!" 

The squad leader chuckled, unfazed by the outburst. "Your marks tell me I'm right. You arrived last night, and he jumped on you like a beast in heat." 

She scoffed, not saying a word as her mouth was still full of toothpaste. Frowning slightly at the squad leader and shooting them an askance look, but Hange didn't seem offended, taking the conversation lightheartedly. 

As they finished their dental routines, Y/N was surprised by Hange's efficiency. They clearly had different notions of after-shower routines. 

"Don't be so hard on him," Y/N defended her boyfriend tenderly as she rinsed the toothpaste residue. "He's stressed about the whole Titan boy situation. He needed to unwind." 

Both walked out of the room lethargically, as if neither had anywhere urgent to be. "That's the excuse Shorty gave you? But if Eren is so meek around Levi..." Hange argued back between chuckles. 

The empty corridors of the former HQ made her shiver, quickly losing the warmth of the shower as they strolled. When the name of the new cadet in Levi's squad was dropped, Y/N couldn't help but grimace and bite her bottom lip to hold back a chuckle. 

"What's so funny?" Hange asked. 

"Nothing," she replied. 

"Come on, just tell me!" 

"Fine..." she relented, "but this stays between us." 

"You know I can't promise that," Hange joked, indicating that juicy information wouldn't stay secret for long. "Just spit it out." 

"I met Eren earlier today..." she began. 

"Yeah, and?" Hange prompted. 

Y/N's subtle, almost innocent blush didn't match her sassy chuckles. "He's hella cute." 

Hange's loud gasp echoed in the empty hallways, prompting Y/N to hush them intensely. "You're a taken woman, Y/N!" the brunette argued, albeit without seriousness. "And... He's a kid. Have some decency, you creep." 

"Hey!" Y/N quickly protested. "I never said I was going to sleep with him or something like that! Can't a girl admit when a boy is cute? I mean, did you see his eyes? He's going to be turning heads around here before you know it." 

Hange chuckled, "If he survives..." 

"What a depressing thought, Hange, for Sheena's sake," both continued walking. "Mark my words, he's going to be handsome and will have girls swooning over him." 

"Including you?" Hange teased. 

Y/N shook her head softly, regretting telling the squad leader about it. "I could teach him a thing or two," she joked back, earning a shallow laugh from her companion. 

"Don't let Shorty hear you say that," Hange warned. 

"I'm joking, I'm joking," she assured. 

The heavy stone walls seemed to catch every little molecule of dust between the bricks as she swung the door open to the basement kitchen, probably designed to keep the cold temperature for food storage. Or perhaps it was an old castle, and the staff was secluded to the forgotten and unpleasant part of the architecture. Once inside, Petra and Eren were cutting potatoes while sitting on big, chipped wooden boxes. 

"Hey," Y/N greeted, rubbing her arms over her clothes as the humidity and coldness of the place seemed to penetrate every piece of clothing. "The bathroom is free if you want to take a shower." 

Y/N chuckled softly at her own words. "Well, 'shower' is a bold word for sitting down and throwing buckets of water on yourself," she clarified, jokingly. 

Petra seemed to understand, smiled at Eren, and stood up to clean her hands before leaving. They were taking turns for showers, mostly because the former HQ lacked a water pumping system, so they had to fetch water early in the day. For showers, the water had to be warmed up by the stove and then carried to one of the rooms they had chosen as a bathroom. Neither room was ideal because of the wooden floors, but they made do. 

She noticed the big, almost innocent eyes of the cadet looking up at her, both seemingly waiting for the other to make the next move. Eren continued with his task silently until she cleared her throat. 

"So... have you taken a shower yet, Eren?" 

"No, ma'am," Eren replied stiffly, making her scoff. 

"You can call me Y/N," she said, taking a spot next to him on the box. "Here, let me help you, or we'll be having potatoes for dinner the day after tomorrow." 

Her hands began to peel the potatoes with expertise. "You're good at this," he commented, looking down at his own pile and noticing a good part of the peel had taken the potato with it. 

She chuckled, "Ugh, you know how many potatoes I peeled before I was promoted," she joked. "You're showering after dinner? Make sure to rinse the water out of your hair if you're going straight to bed; you might catch a cold otherwise." 

Eren seemed surprised by the comment, or perhaps by the interaction overall. "Yes, ma'am," he replied with less self-assurance. "Captain Levi said the rest should go ahead, and then we'll go... I feel bad that he had to wait to take his turn because of me." 

"You're showering with Levi?" she asked, entertained, cutting off a bit of the self-hate speech that the cadet was about to embark on. "You're not planning on stealing my man, are you?" 

Oh, how quickly the blood rushed to his cheeks. It was priceless. "N-NO! I-I, no. I'll n-never," the poor boy began to stutter. She playfully patted his back while having a blast. 

"Relax, Eren. I'm messing with you," she said between chuckles. "It's just a silly shower, sweetie. Levi goes to bed very late, so showering last doesn't affect him." 

"But Oluo said–" 

"Ohhh, please," she interrupted him again, rolling her eyes as she returned to her task of peeling potatoes. Momentarily pointing at him with the knife, as if to emphasize her point, she continued, "Do not listen to him. Oluo is like one of those very tiny little dogs. They bark and bark and may even bite more than a regular-sized dog, but they actually hold no power." 

It was time for the cadet to have a short chuckle at her comparison. "Mr. Oluo isn't going to like that." 

"Well, I'm higher in command than him so." 

There was a brief calm silence as both of them continued to prepare dinner. "You're too nice to me, Squad Leader," Eren murmured, slightly ashamed. "The rest of Captain Levi's squad is nice too, but I can feel their fear..." 

Y/N couldn't help but find it endearing, the little pout on his face. "Oh sweetie, I'm the one who brings the first paperwork of the day to Erwin, and sometimes I even have to wake him up. There's nothing you could do that could scare me after that," she said while reaching forward to pinch his right cheek while wrinkling her nose. "You're a cutie." 

The side smile mixed with a not subtle blush that extended to his ears and the subtle shame in his eyes. Everything in his attitude screamed 'I'm not a girl or a kid, don't call me that.' 

But that was exactly what he was in her eyes: a kid. 

Clicking his tongue, cursing under his breath, he moved the shaking candle around, trying to find a good lighting spot against the old mirror while passing the razor close to his skin. The flame shook under the little insulation of the old rooms, and the humidity of the showers didn’t help as it rained little drops of condensation too close to it. Unlike Eren, who had finished showering and looked around ashamed, unsure how to even begin to dress up for bed without looking awkward (he could start by not standing still in the middle of the room), Levi seemed rather relaxed. Apparently, his only problem was shaving under that type of light. 

The Captain looked over his shoulder, found the cadet looking as if he wished the earth could swallow him. “Come on, brat. We don’t have all night. Get dressed so I can take you to the basement,” Levi spoke up. “Don't be so tense. I cleaned the place myself.” 

‘The cleanliness is not my problem,’ Eren thought to himself as he tried to carry on. But keeping the towel around his hips while trying to put clothes on that stuck to his humid body, nothing was going according to plan. 

“I bet you shared showers in worse conditions at the training camps,” Levi kept his usual stoic face as he cleaned the residues of shaving cream from his face and carried on unaffected by the situation. 

But Eren couldn’t unglue his eyes as soon as he noticed them. Yes, them. The red striking scratches down the back of his superior. Well-marked, five on each side decorating his shoulder blades. Eren swore he was trying not to pay them any mind, trying to remember to breathe or even to stop the saliva as his mouth hung open looking at them. 

Levi mentioning the shared showers at the training camps didn't help. Because all he could hear repeating endlessly in his mind were the stupid conversations Reiner and Jean would have about the hypothetical chicks they were planning to lay with. How they throw their heads back as they moan your name. Their nails sinking in your back as you pounded into them. 

‘Think of something else, Eren. Think of something else,’ 

“S-sorry,” he stuttered out a reply as the object he was picking up slipped from his clumsy hands, gathering his superior's attention, who was now staring at him as he kneeled to pick it up with his face as red as a tomato and nervous eyes. 

Levi raised a silent eyebrow for a split second before slightly shaking his head, not giving it much thought. ‘Teenagers,’ he thought to himself while sighing. 

Eren wished he could stop his own mind because it wasn’t just Reiner’s voice playing in his head but the created mental images of what he thought, in his inexperience, it looked like: his superior—no—his hero, fucking the sweet, caring woman who had just been peeling potatoes with him. Her hands that pinching his cheeks, sinking its nails into his squad leader’s back while moaning his name. Wrinkling his eyes closed, trying to erase the mental images as he could feel the blood pumping. ‘You’re not planning on stealing my man, are you?’ her voice echoing in the walls of his head, pumped lips and sultry eyes as she looked back at him playfully. 

‘Think of something else!’ 

“What could you probably be thinking of?” Levi’s voice echoed as his worst nightmare. Had he said that out loud? This time Levi had turned around to face him, left hand resting on the sink as he had his trousers on but hanging loosely on his hips as he was halfway getting dressed. He didn’t seem friendly, and his dead glance demanded an explanation. 

“Ehm- I,” Eren began to stutter, trying to find a logical explanation. His mind was racing miles per hour, how to explain. He was peeling potatoes, she made a joke, now he knows they are dating, Levi had his back scratched by her. She, her nails, her joke, her pretty lips— 

“Y-Y/N,” 

Ah- He shouldn’t have said that, but it was the first word that came to his mind. 

“What?” Levi’s voice seemed to source from hell itself. 

Heavy steps again on the floor, as he rushed back to his room. “Oi, where are you going so angry, shorty?” Hange rested against the wood frame while drinking a cup of tea. They had heavy under-eye circles and despite the dose of caffeine from their drinks, they seemed very lethargic. 

“Tch, to talk to my girlfriend about not messing around with my subordinates,” Levi had a heavy frown on his face as his hair still leaked little drops of water. “I just had the most uncomfortable conversation with Eren,” Levi said between clenched teeth, barely modulating. 

Hange chuckled while raising an eyebrow, blinking a couple of times. “Y/N told you she thinks Eren is a cutie? I’m surprised...” 

Levi, who had never stopped facing down the hall to his room, not even when he began his conversation with the other squad leader, slowly turned around to face the brunette as he heard that with a clearly confused face that turned into a frown as the information sank in. “What?” he spat out. 

Hange began to chuckle as they feared that they had misunderstood, “Ha ha... didn’t you say you had an uncomfortable conversation about Eren?” 

“Clean up your filthy ears or go to sleep already, four eyes,” the captain said calmly before clarifying, “I said a fucking uncomfortable conversation WITH Eren.” 

“Now, tell me what the hell you meant by that and make it quick because I already stood in a leaky bathroom for easily half an hour hearing Eren stutter apologize after he said my girlfriend’s name with a fucking hard on.” 

Observing out of the window as she admired how calm the deep forest was at the former HQ. It was rather cold, but she had only her nightgown on, a sheer translucent piece of cloth. The door of the room swung open, revealing an extremely angry Levi. He shut his door close and walked up to her. 

“What's gotten into you?” She questioned, confused. But before she could even reply, he was grabbing her face, pressing her cheeks together, and slightly raising her face to have it inches away from his. 

“You’ve forgotten your manners. I’ve been too soft with you,” Levi groaned, “First of all, you don’t go around playing cheeky with my subordinates.” 

She could feel the tug from his grip, pressing her closer as her hands touched his arm. Breathing heavily, humming a moan at his words. “Second, you truly think you could have a brat like him when I can already tell you’re dropping with the idea of me teaching you your place again?” 

“Lev-” 

“Your next words should be ‘Yes, sir’ if you know what's good for you,” he let go of her face just to slap her ass, “Go to bed and ass up, baby girl.” 

She moved excitedly in the direction he indicated but turned around as she bit her bottom lip, watching as he grabbed a belt from his uniform, “and that?” she asked curiously. 

“To make sure I’m the only one who leaves marks behind.” 

Link to my masterlist and my other works if you feel like checking them out.

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[ruruvxz]

Can you write like a really really loser minji with like uhh a teasing playful and mean flirting fem! reader basically like a baddie reader 😭😭😭 idk how to explain it man so the thing is I saw this dynamic thing like minji is the taller one but gets teased Reader is the shorter but teases minji!! Just some fluff no angst please 😔

“Apple Cider”

Nerd!Kim Minji x Mean!Reader

↳ synopsis: After being kicked out of a house party you found yourself wondering the streets with a pounding headache. It wasn’t all that bad when you suddenly came across a taller woman, and not letting this opportunity through your hands, you ask to get her a drink.

↳ cw: mentions on intoxication, drunken kiss, prudish reader, mentions of language, reader is an ex-f1 racer, pure fluff

↳ wc: 3k

a/n: I kinda wrote this as a prologue of “10:36” but don’t worry it’s all pure fluff and this is basically how you met Minji… anywayssss it was really difficult to write this as I kept having to redo it since I didn’t like all my other proofreads (and the fact I’m a tall girl myself…)

Stumbling over a traffic cone, your head thumped and pounded as you were suffering a major migraine, which added to your irritation as you were leaving the worst party of your life. Everything was beginning normally, you came early as usual to lend a helping hand to one of your mutual friends, watching the people pool into the cramped apartment. How everyone's shoulders collided as you all tried to fit into this tiny apartment made you more irritable. 

It wasn't until someone poured a drink onto your already drunk state and began to berate you, that you finally took your leave. You bit your tongue, you didn't want to start anything so you swung your f1 academy jacket over your drenched shirt to cover the bright stain plastered all over and took your leave. Everything was so disorienting, walking through the crowded streets, you found yourself stumbling across the business district. You loathed this part because it reminded you of your impending doom of being a corpse slave, but at this point, you were too drunk to care.

All that lugging around trying to find a place to camp out wasn't making anything any better, your only saving grace was hauling your way to the nearest 7-Eleven. Thank the stars that you managed to wobble your way inside and pick up 2 bottles of apple cider, a drink you commonly drank to force your way back to sobriety. As you checked out your items you made yourself comfortable on a concrete diver and chugged the first drink down.

It was extremely sour, so you pushed yourself only to take small sips, whilst admiring the stars above you. A little ashamed that you got kicked out of a party so early on, usually leaving by 3 am, but it was only 9 pm. That was beside the point, as you felt your head stop thumping less and less, and finally, your headache dissolved completely. Sighing in relief, you looked at the spare bottle wondering how much of a waste of money it was to buy 2. Before you could return the bottle for some reward points or something along those lines, your ears picked up a large "Oomf".

Your eyes darted towards the noise as you saw a beautifully dressed woman, trip over a traffic cone, similarly to you. She was stunning, her long black hair falling softly onto her face, and with her tall stature, everything about her was so breathtaking. You even took notice of the dark eye-bags circulating under her gorgeous black eyes, she looked so fatigued it even made your partially sober state worry for her. You thought nothing more of her before she tripped once more dropping her glasses right in front of you.

Picking them up worriedly, you walked over to her and reached your hand up to pick her up. She looked up at you wide-eyed as you dragged her bag up, she immediately started apologizing as you handed her the glasses. Not realizing how tall her stature was until you stood right in front of her. As you examined her face closer as she pushed the glasses up from the bridge of her nose, she couldn't help but blush. You chuckle at her reaction a bit before speaking up.

"Are you alright? I just saw you trip on air right now..." You joked as the woman looked even more sorrowful, the idea of someone as dazzling as you watching her make a fool out of herself was humiliating. She grabbed her hand and rubbed her nape as you continued to laugh at her little accident, finally letting it all out she spoke up.

"I'm sorry. it's just I was so tired I couldn't see where I was going." She responded continuing to run the back of her neck while looking down at your smiling face. She wasn't lying though, after a long 3-hour seminar about economic ethics, she was beyond exhausted, especially since this was being taken out of her weekend.

"Maybe it's true, tall people don't have balance." You laughed at her, a part of you still a little drunken as you giggled at her antics before speaking up once more. "I've got some spare apple... drink, I uh, drink it if I want to energize myself— here take it, it's not like I was gonna drink it anyways." You insisted as you handed her the drink forcefully, her response being to weakly snatch it from your hands.

The drink was still cold and she had no problem drinking it, especially since a strikingly young woman, probably the same as her, was offering it to her. Usually, if it was anyone else the black-haired woman would've meekly declined their offer and moved on with her day, but you were different somehow.

As she cracked the cap off, she took a huge swig before coughing out from the sour taste, her eyes bugging out differently that tasted from her expectation. She looked at the bottle's wrapping as it neatly read "Natural Apple Cider", it wasn't bad but it was most definitely surprising. However, the way she spat out everything made you laugh hysterically even more.

"Hahaha, I'm so— hah... I'm so sorry, it's Apple cider." You laughed as she stared at the bottle for a little bit longer and then pried her eyes back to you as you chuckled loudly. "You looked so hilarious! I can't—" You continue laughing at her before gaining your composure once more, "I'm Y/N, sorry about that."

"Wow, uhm..." She was bewildered at your carefree attitude after practically just meeting her, but she laughed with you, your laugh was far too intoxicating. "I'm Kim Minji." She responded as she pushed a hair behind her ear before reaching out her hand to shake yours. You quickly do so as you ogle her height.

"I'll just call you... Tall girl!" Minji was dumbfounded by the nickname, which wasn't much of a nickname as it was just a plain-out observation. She looked around then back at you confused why you sounded so sure about that name.

"Now come on tall girl, let me get you an actual drink as an apology." You beamed as you offered her an actual drink, it wasn't even an offer actually, more of a subtle demand under the pretext of this being a sweet gesture. Minji, who was so hooked, just agreed while you dragged her by the hand and led her to one of your all-time favorite jazz bars. She couldn't help but chuckle at the circumstances she was facing at this moment, a shorter woman she had no prior knowledge about was offering to get her a drink.

As the both of you pushed through the crowded streets of drunkards and other ripped folks, you would mumble incoherent words that she would only understand bits and pieces. Minji would question why you kept mentioning some party and you'd scowl at her wondering why she wasn't listening, how could she? You were practically slurring your words every single sentence? But oddly enough, she found it so endearing whenever you would laugh it off. She was also still surprised how you could be so clearheaded and strut around in such a stunning outfit while not being the most sober person. Everything about you from your face to your minute details made her heart beat out of her chest.

You didn't notice how her hand tightened just a little bit, while she thought of the idea of you leaving her. Even for this midnight, she'd like to give this thing a try. As you headed inside the jazz club, you indicated sitting near the bar top. Minji, who wasn't a big drinker, (actually didn't drink at all before this situation) was a bit hesitant at first but she swallowed her fears and sat down right beside you. You ordered 2 amber ale beers and the bartender delivered, the drinks decorated with a frothy top as you took a large swig. Minji was stunned at the fact you could just coldly drink the bitter drink without any hesitation, making her believe it wasn't all that bad.

She lifted the drink to her lips, the froth coating attaching itself to her philtrum, as she took a short sip before abruptly sitting it out with a cough. It took you by surprise as she continued to cough out her drink, you patted her back to relieve her, thinking she might just be choking. As you leaned into her to make sure the taller woman was okay, your nose picked up her delicious scent of fruit punch. "Oh my! Are you okay?—Woah you smell nice, but are you good?" You repeated yourself as Minji came down from her coughing spree. As she lifted her head back up to look at you, her cheeks flushed red, not wanting to admit that this was probably the first drink she'd ever had in her life. She flailed her hand around trying to indicate she was fine as she continued to let out hiccuped coughs. 

It took you a few moments as you dissected her reaction before connecting the dots, ah, this was the first time she'd ever tried beer, a trashy one at that. "Oh. Is this your first time trying amber ale?" You questioned, she looked even more flushed as she hid her face with her palms, pretty much summing up your theory, you didn't expect that, after all, she looked like she was your age. Even entering the bar she showed the bouncer her ID and everything was checked out, so how could this possibly be her first-ever drink? As questions pilled up in your mind you couldn't help but let out a loud laugh, catching the attention of a few fellow jazz enthusiasts who were just trying to enjoy the music. Paying no mind to the glares of middle-aged men who had nothing to do but "appreciate" the gentle hums of the musicians, you spoke up a little too loud making Minji a tad bit more embarrassed.

"Your kidding! There's no way this..." You laughed, raising the drink higher up to give her a look before slamming it down on the counter. "...This shit! Is your first drink, tall girl." She sighed as you continued to tease her on the fact, before letting out a very long exasperated sigh whilst taking another sip of the drink. Minji wasn't in the mood to deal with you— a complete stranger— remarks on her visible lack of alcoholism. Truth be told, she hated people who drank since it would always lead to confrontation or messy tears, and she wanted no part of that. The fact that anyone would order an alcoholic beverage on her behalf would've made her scoff in disapproval before sending the drink back, but for some particular reason, she wanted to impress the alluring girl right next to her.

"D-Don't call me that, besides, it isn't," Minji said, trying her best to convince the girl next to her that she was much more bold than she was, despite coughing up her drink. "I was just, uhm, surprised that's all!" Was all she could muster up as you continued to laugh your ass off, you should've probably asked her if she drank or not before dragging her to your favorite Jazz Club, but you were paying for her drink, so really, was it your fault.

As the night went on, you both mutually started to order more and more drinks, as the clock struck 2am, you finally decided to wrap up this get-together and head home. It was kind of refreshing meeting someone new though, in the span of 5 hours, you learned more about her than you knew about your closest friends. Of course, not by your own will as it was her turn to babble her head off, she talked way too much about trivial topics she was into you found your migraine resurge for a bit. Things like her favorite romance novels or manhwa titles and synopses that you could care less about were all engraved into your memory, after all for some reason you couldn't take your eyes off of her. But eventually, everything has to come to an end...

That is what you would've said if she wasn't practically clung onto your arm with her head resting on your head as she loomed over your quite tiny build. If you knew she was a lightweight you probably wouldn't have encouraged her to have more drinks than she could handle, especially since you had to pay for each and every one she got. More than that, you wouldn't have agreed under the pretense that you had to drag this not-so-complete stranger back to her apartment. She was quite heavy as she was pressing all her body weight onto you as you searched and probed for directions to her apartment, her words slurred and giggly as you finally found her residence.

It was quite elegant as she lived in the well-off areas of the city, it made you jealous at the thought of anyone ever living so extravagantly, but it was better than having to drag her up the stairs if she lived in an apartment complex like yours. You fished the wallet out of Minji's back pocket to grab her complex's card key and unlocked the elevator for the both of you. As you hauled her into her apartment, you took in the view, everything was so dimly lit and the only light was being emitted by the city's scrappers and other colossal-sized buildings.

You chucked her onto her leather couch as she spewed more nonsense about her economic homework before finally taking a breather on the couch. She was adorable but you're too prideful to admit that to her face, you decided to just grab some water and sober her up a bit before heading back to your place with your roommate. Walking over to her, you handed her the glass of water before carefully monitoring her like a child, making sure she didn't choke. As she sat up, she swallowed the water in one goofy gulp.

"Hey now, don't drink it like that you might choke like last time, tall girl." You chuckle as she looks up at your standing posture with a pout, fixing the hem of your shirt you prepare yourself for your leave. Turning back from her gaze she weakly and fairly loosely grabbed onto your wrist with a hushed plea. "Please stay, Y/N..." Her voice filled with longing as she croaked out, making your heart soften at her state. You let out a playful scoff before taking a seat on the couch right next to her, Minji's eyes lighting up as you do so. She looked like a total lovesick geek right now, but you found her so endearing as you both sat in silence, taking short glances at one another.

"Your hair, it's really nice Y/N, can I uhm, please touch it." She spoke as you nodded softly, letting her delicate fingers stroke the back of your head, feeling your hair strand by strand under her palm. As she continued she looked more and more entranced by how truly gorgeous you were, her breath hitched once she stopped, leaning down to rest your head on her thighs. If it weren't for how dark her apartment was, you probably could've seen her cheeks radiating red, as her blush plastered her whole face. The way you looked so, unbothered, made her heart sink even further, she had never felt this way about anyone, mainly since she's usually cooped up in her apartment, avoiding any contact with anyone other than her close friends. 

Resting your head gently on top of her, Minji's eyes wandered around your whole body, taking in the sight that was in front of her. Her eyes landed on your scarlet leather race jacket, it was tailored perfectly for you, she let out a nerdy smile as she looked at all the patches that decorated your jacket. "That jacket... it's really cool, I like it." 

"Than I shall wear it more often." You responded, reaching your hand out and tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, your knuckles softly caressing her heated cheeks. Despite how much you hated being reminded of your past as a failed driver who was promptly kicked off the grid, her words soothed you enough to encourage you to wear it more often. Looking back at the party that happened, you were glad it didn't work out since it meant that you met her. 

You both sat in silence after your little comment as she only let out a snort, her face still burning red as you laid on her. "Hey, do you mind if I sleep over?" You asked, and she nodded responding with a quiet, "Sleep as long as you want." 

"Great, I don't have anywhere to stay." You lied through your teeth, not wanting to go back home and stay by her side. 

"Hey Y/N, do you like me?" Minji asked boldly, still clearly stuck in her drunken state.

"Yeah, but not that much, Tall girl." You teased as you brought your hand back up and pulled her down to your level, your noses inches apart, threatening to touch. "How about you?"

"I like you a lot..." She drifted off, her answer in part to the fact she was quite dazed, before continuing she leaned closer to you. "But not that much."

You laughed once more as you cupped her face, gently pushing her face closer, interlocking your lips together as you kissed, her face was hot, steaming almost as you released her hands from her face. "You look so out of it, come on', I'll go buy you some apple cider to sober you up."

"I prefer fruit punch, actually!"  

"Then let's drink both."

[orphiclovers]

Rereading early ORV and I have some THOUGHTS on Kim Dokja. In typical me fashion, they are unpopular. So if he's your absolute favourite character and seeing him be criticized will ruin your day, maybe skip this post, ok? Peace.

-

What is so novel and interesting about Kim Dokja is that he GENUINELY doesn't really have a knee jerk emotional reaction of outrage and empathy when seeing injustice happen. He sees something immoral and bad, but doesn't FEEL horrified and disgusted. Emotions don't drive him to attempt to fix the situation or save anyone.

Instead his moral compass is based on the simple logic that 'bad things happening should be prevented if there is an opportunity to prevent them.'

This philosophy is the most apparent in his actions in Chungmuro on the WHOLE, with the food and marginalized group and etc. But I will point out this moment in particular as an example of what I mean.

They see women be driven to prostitution to survive. Jung Heewon has an instinctive, human reaction of outrage and disgust, wants to rush in and save them and damn the consequences, while Kim Dokja is calm and rational, holding her back and saying those woman will starve if they try to help right now.

This lack of empathy (feeling strong emotions) is definitely due to childhood trauma stunting his emotional development but... that doesn't change the fact this is a legitimate part of his personality now.

Usually, when a character is 'cold and ruthless', it's because they are repressing their true feelings and forcing themselves to be unfeeling for some goal. Like Yoo Joonghyuk, for example.

But we are IN Kim Dokja's head and get to see the way he thinks, and being 'unfeelingly rational' IS what comes naturally to him.

Before you say anything, I know the Fourth Wall represses some of his emotions in certain situations and certainly helps him deal with pain and horror. But we are ALWAYS TOLD when it's active, and it isn't in these moments.

Blaming all of Kim Dokja's less than moral thoughts and behavior on the 4th wall even when there's no indication that it's influencing him at that particular moment, is not something I want to do as it feels like an attempt to scrub away his moral greyness. I choose to believe that his narration, in moments when he's not wrong or biased or 4th wall-ed, is a basically accurate representation of his character. I think the authors didn't make his narration totally 100% unreliable all the time, with no possible indication of where he's wrong or right. Because that would mean there is nothing a reader can latch onto and draw conclusions about KDJ from.

If they wanted to write about a faceless self insert with no concrete personality traits and flaws, a person you can headcanon to be anything, they wouldn't have written ORV.

I think it's okay to acknowledge Kim Dokja's first reaction to seeing a woman about to be raped is not 'oh my god...those bastards...! I have to stop this...!' but '...she might be dangerous or a hinderence in a future...'

We don't need to make excuses here and try to justify this. A moment later he catches himself thinking like this and 'shudders with disgust at himself.'

His first, instinctive thoughts that he can't control don't necessarily make him a bad person. What matters is his second thoughts and what he actually chooses to do, which he CAN control. I ALSO don't think he's wrong to feel disgusted at himself for having low empathy. His guilt is justified.

I genuinely like him even more for always picking the 'moral option' in every scenario now, than if he did it immediately with no hesitation. Because it makes empathy and compassion a constant choice he's making, and putting in the effort reflects well on what his values are.

Kim Dokja legitimately can't help but weigh everyone he meets on a scale of how 'useful they potenially are' first and foremost. He does this with strangers and also with all of kimcom too.

"Who should I save because they would be useful in the future? I wasn't Yoo Joonghyuk to be thinking about these things." At this point, chap 74, he thinks Yoo Joonghyuk is wrong and doesn't want to be like him at all and mostly calls him a psychopath. He thinks 'acting like him' is wrong and undesirable.

He has a mini arc about Yoo Joonghyuk later, goes from 'he's a bad person, I know it because I know everything about him' in chap 81 to 'maybe I don't know him at all' in chap 82 but this is before that.

Seeing people as tools and deciding who to save based on future knowledge is a thing BOTH of them do. Yet Kim Dokja critisizes Yoo Joonghyuk for it, it's his least favourite character trait that YJH of TWSA has.

And in typical Kim Dokja fashion, this similarity between them is exactly what he despises in Yoo Joonghyuk - but now we find out it's not because he finds it amoral ("I'm not a humanist" - he doesn't care about that part) but because he sees it as a mirror reflection of himself. He's projecting, as always!

In early ORV, he hates the part of Yoo Joonghyuk that is the most similar to himself. (even tho they're sort of the polar opposites too. Yoo Joonghyuk is a deeply emotionally driven person, he feels empathy and the desire to save everyone but chooses to repress and ignore this and act like a ruthless 'psychopath'. KDJ disagrees with this choice, as Kim Dokja IS an unfeeling psychopath (low empathy) but does his best to act like a decent person and not an edgelord.)

[sims3fiend]

Some dumb sims 3 updates/stuf

Or, how to develop severe brain damage in 10 easy steps.

Sooo… This is going to be more of a blog post than anything of any real substance, more of a whinge with maybe a few teasers for some stuff I may or may not release (probably not). Feel free to skip if you're after hot tips or coherent writing.

Stutter "fixer"

Sooooo…. The sims 3 has some stutter issueeesss… Incredible discovery, I know! I started looking at remedying them with settings, found some hidden settings that help reduce some of the issues but that can only do so much when the game was made in 2009 for 2009 computers.

So I had a looky at some things I thought could be causing it, mainly WinAPI functions because that's the easier route (h-haha…), and started to try to "optimize" some of the more common ones:

ReadFile: Was the first, and looking at the sheer volume of like 12783972198 calls a milisecond every time you move the camera, I thought surely I can speed it up a little r-right. Not really. I tried all sorts of… interesting things, file caching in memory, implementing the overlapped flag (took ages), etc. Oh and the performance increase? Literally nothing. It's called weirdly from wherever it's called and so we must suffer.

Threads: So, I had a look at other areas that were potential targets for speedup, ran an actual profile and it showed a problem areas namely threads and some other stuff I don't remember. ZwWaitForMultipleObjects and WaitForSingleObject take up a lot of time, so I very poorly attempted to optimize them, adding some timeout optimizations (and a bunch of other failed attempts). Despite being the most insane, this actually worked, and I got like a 40% speed increase in a very very niche metric that did not noticeably effect the game one single bit. I plan to combine all my failures into a single script eventually, maybe once combined they'll do something…

Actual insanity - Memory IPC: Then I had an idea, everyone hates e12, why don't we shove the games memory into another process and that'll fix it. No brain moment. No clue what past me was thinking, for some reason I thought you could like, access another processes memory if it was spawned from it, but uhh.. no, that's not how things work… I tried a few other things in a similar vein but it just crashed and crashed, so for now I'm just gunna work on:

Alloc/free mee - Current insanity: Currently, I'm still working on VirtualAlloc and VirtualFree (which is what I was redirecting to another process), but more from an optimizing memory usage standpoint than a… whatever the IPC thing was. There's a lot of things to try, and I've had some luck in some areas and some abysmal failures in others. There's a few promising functions calling VirtualAlloc/Free that seem to be potentially pointing towards memory leaks (004e54d0), but I'm too dumb to investigate that. At the moment, I'm going mostly just gathering more logs which takes forever and hurts my brain real bad.. On testing there's like 180 allocs that we could probably yeet no problem, which is like 750mb saved… Maybe idk.

I have plenty of ideas for deduplication, memory pool implementations to reduce churn/fragmentation, shoving things aggressively into pagefiles if they're not being used, etc. etc. Basically, there's a lot of avenues to explore, and I feel like there's potential… though I've definitely said that before and been dead wrong so…

Anyway, rambling over. I plan to release a dumb little renderer settings mod maybe-soon-ish that'll let you do dumb stuff that might be useful for reshade like turn shadows/drop shadows off and post processing off and on. I guess I could add max lots and other settings eventually too since they're static values.... Might also do a mythbusting post for some performance "tweak" stuff I see thrown around that isn't super accurate but I also don't want people to be angry at me so maybe not.

Sorry to whoever read all this, but also thanks :)

[gothamite-rambler]

Dick Grayson's Robin Having No Filter and Giving His Father a Migraine

Robin!Dick: Hi Ivy!

Poison Ivy: Hi... young child. Stand over there, away from the giant rose.

Robin!Dick stepped away from the rose while staring at it mesmerized.

Robin!Dick: Can I-

Batman: I will take you home.

Robin!Dick pouted and walked off grumbling.

Ivy: He's adorable, if I didn't hate people I'd keep him. Okay, so run it back, you want me to stop my mission to protect mother earth and you were like "that's wrong for you to do". Continue with being wrong.

Batman: I should not have to explain to you how your mission to save the earth doesn't benefit people. It's destructive.

Ivy: Why? Because some people might die? A few dead bodies are worth it for saving the planet.

Robin!Dick (shocked): What?! You're killing people to do this?

Ivy: Yes... A few dead bodies are worth- Why is his face sad?

Robin!Dick (trying not cry): That's so mean.

Batman (glaring at Ivy): Now you've upset him.

Ivy (indignant): All right last I checked, the earth is dying, I'm just being honest kid. What do you want me to say? I'm not destroying the Earth, big corporations pumping out microplastics, pouring random crap in the lakes, Nestle... JUST NESTLE! They're screwing this planet like she's a two dollar hooker! I stopped eating their chocolate bars after the founder said water shouldn't be given to everybody!

Robin!Dick (shocked): Did he actually say that?

Ivy (calm): Basically he implied water shouldn't have free access because Nestle is the biggest proprietor of bottled water and no amount of explaining will ever fix the fact he said that! So whatever you're about to say, Batman, I do not want to hear it! They’re destroying ecosystems, hunting endangered species, killing crops and-

Robin!Dick (interrupting): Hold up, that's all she's trying to fix?

Robin!Dick turns to Batman.

Batman: She's not doing it in logical way.

Robin!Dick: She's a green woman who can control plants! Does she look like she wants to use our logic? No offense by the way, Ivy.

Ivy: You're fine, I love my body.

Robin!Dick (confused why they're fighting her): Why don't we help her, Batman? Has she asked for your help?

Batman (sheepish): Um... It's been brought up in the past.

Robin!Dick: Then why haven't you?

Ivy: Yeah, Batman, that so mean.

Batman: Because... She's a criminal and will let people die for the cause.

Robin!Dick: Well I mean if it's that nestle guy I don't... Don't necessarily blame her and I've seen you beat the ever loving shit out a lot of bad guys.

Batman: Language.

Robin!Dick (loud): The context needed the word. I love you Batman, I do, but let's be real you steal police information and beat up thugs. You have not paid the commissioner back for the fire hydrant incident. I'm sorry, but you break a lot of laws. You say you're doing it to save lives, so is she! Most are plant lives, but I get it. We would be arrested too, but we're lucky, she's not... it's not right.

Ivy (sincere): Thanks kid.

Robin!Dick: You're welcome and plus in any other city, we'd be going to prison. You'd be, I'd be tossed into an orphanage and that... That's not fun.

Ivy: A lot of kids in the system have been abused, he's got a point.

Batman (annoyed): Why are you arguing with me, Robin?

Robin!Dick: Because dang it, she might have a point! We can help her to a degree... In fact isn't the building we're in is being sued for what they did to a lake? All those ducks died.

Ivy (adding): Nothing can grow there for decades.

Robin!Dick: Yeah, the ecosystem is destroyed there.

Batman (yelling): Why are you ganging up on me?

Robin and Ivy: Because you know it's wrong!

Robin!Dick: You have told me you became Batman because the system is flawed and sometimes matters need to be taken into your own hands? How is she different?

Ivy: Okay... you're growing on me. Here, take a rose.

Ivy used her powers to hand the young hero a rose.

Robin (smiling and taking the rose): Aww, thank you.

Batman groaned then yanked Robin by the ear.

Batman: Excuse me, I have to talk to him in private!

Ivy: Aww, I'm starting to like the kid, go easy on him. He's smart, he knows what he's talking about.

Robin!Dick (being dragged out): Thank you, Ivy.

Ten minutes after the two argue, Batman comes to a compromise with his son and Ivy because he knows that Dick would absolutely not mind sabotaging factories or causing a fire with a supervillain to protect the planet. All he needs is a good reason.

Batman (driving them home in the batmobile): Could you not defend the actions of the bad guy in front of me next time?

Robin!Dick (eating McDonald's fries): Don't take me to one who has a point.

---------------------------------------

Batman searched for Robin after taking down Joker.

Batman: Robin? Where did he go?

Joker (laying on the ground as Batman presses his shoe on his back): One of my goons went after him.

Meanwhile Robin does flips, tricks and runs around the room while giggling as the goon chases after him.

Goon: Little boy, little boy stop running!

Robin ran, but when the goon tried to grab him, the young hero grabbed his hand and clamped down with his teeth making contact with the mans hand. The goon screamed in pain.

Batman: He's down the hall.

Joker: There's no... Guarantee he'll win.

Robin kicked the goon in the crotch and ran off.

Goon (weakly): Right in the kiwis.

Robin!Dick: Batman, I got the last one!

Batman: Good job, Robin.

Joker: I hate your child soldier.

Batman: Thank you, I raised him well.

---------------------------------------

Talia Al Ghul (to Batman): You-

Robin!Dick: You're out of his league.

Talia: What?

Robin!Dick: I'm just saying, it's obvious you have this stalker obsession with him, 'love' you like to call it, but Batman could do way better than you.

Batman chuckled covering his mouth.

Talia: Okay, I was telling him to stop his 'no-kill' rule and join the league, but also he wants me and some snot nosed brat won't have a say in any possible relationship!

Robin!Dick: Well, I'm 13 now and even I can see you shouldn't be together. Not even on a league level, but like come on, why would you get with a guy who doesn't want you or to be on your team? That's sad.

Talia (irate): You think I won't smack a teenager? I don't give a fuck!

Batman (disturbingly calm): Touch him and you'll wake up in the hospital.

Inspired by this post

[munson-blurbs]

Living After Midnight (Failed Rockstar!Eddie x Motel Worker!Reader)

♫ Summary: Eddie lowered his guard during a late night conversation, revealing crucial details about his past. But was it enough for you to reciprocate? (4.3k words)

♫ CW: slowburn, strangers-to-lovers, angst, drug use, parental conflict, poverty, homelessness, brief mention of neglect, brief mention of sex work, eventual smut (18+ only, minors DNI)

♫ Divider credit to @hellfire--cult

chapter four: show me yours, i'll show you mine

If convincing Eddie to take the job wasn’t enough of a struggle, you still had to explain the situation to your parents.

Hi Mom and Dad, I invited a guest to help fix up the motel. The same one who stole a blanket–but don’t worry, I got it back. Oh, and he’ll be staying here for free.

They were understandably taken aback by your decision, especially without consulting them first, but you’d mustered up a strong argument: Eddie was young, he was easy to get along with, and he showed a basic sense of personal responsibility. Not to mention that the place could certainly use the repairs; peeling wallpaper was just the tip of the iceberg. Lightbulbs needed to be replaced, carpets needed to be scrubbed, and the outside of the building desperately needed to be power washed. 

“Plus, summer break doesn’t start for another few weeks,” you hastily added. “We won’t need to worry about renting out Eddie’s room until then.”

Mom arched an eyebrow at the newfound ascription—not room four, but Eddie’s room—but said nothing, only looking at your father for his seal of approval. 

He breathed out, long and low, trying to do the calculations in his head. Your heart flip-flopped when his gaze dropped to the ground, his signature move when he was about to tell you no. 

“If he doesn’t help out, he can’t afford to stay here anyway. It’s not like we’re losing money if he keeps the room for a bit.” You winced at the slight whine in your voice, the opposite of the infallible exterior you’d wanted to present. 

Dad laughed, not unkindly, but belittlement panged in your chest nonetheless. “Except for the water, air conditioning, and electricity he uses,” he pointed out, ticking off each item on his fingers. “Unless he plans to only sit in the dark, sweat, and never shower.” He sighed as unmistakable disappointment weaved into your eyes and filled them with tears. 

Now you’d have to tell Eddie that the offer was off the table, that he was shit out of luck, that you’d let him down. You never should’ve opened your big mouth in the first place. Captain Save-the-World, except you only ever made things worse. If you wore a cape, it would get snagged on tree branches each time you tried to fly.

“You have a good heart,” Mom spoke up, trying to nurse your wounded feelings, “but kindness doesn’t pay the bills.” She glanced at Dad again, her mouth set in a straight line. “Maybe we can discuss this further.”

You fought to ignore the hope that bloomed from her words, but the corners of your mouth turned upwards before you could rein it in. “Thank you,” you murmured, offering them both a grateful smile. 

People called you a ‘bleeding heart,’ teasing you about your constant attempts to solve problems beyond a reasonable scope. At last year’s Thanksgiving dinner, your uncle had informed you—unprompted—that he would never vote for you for President because “you’d just give all my money to the poor.”

While your parents were more realistic with their goals than you were, they did their best to encourage your compassionate spirit; there was no doubt that you got your sense of morality from them. After deliberating on Eddie’s fate for a few hours, they had finally relented—with one stipulation. 

“Your mother and I are not going to supervise him, so he’ll have to work night shifts with you,” Dad had said sternly. 

“Really?” You clapped your hands in celebration. “Thank you! I mean, um, Eddie thanks you.”

Dad gave your shoulders a quick squeeze; it was his version of you’re welcome. “Yeah, well.” He played it cool, keeping his tone breezy. “It’ll be good practice for when you take over the place.”

You’d nodded in response, your insides twisting in a clashing mix of excitement and shame. Eddie wouldn’t have to live on the street, but it required you to continue lying to your parents. 

I’ll tell them the truth once Eddie finds a real job and gets his own place. I can only handle one crisis at a time. 

That was how you’d found yourself spending your Tuesday evening with Eddie Munson. The motel was otherwise empty, save for your parents, a middle-aged trucker in room 7, and Phyllis in her usual digs.

You and Dad had spent the end of his shift covering the floor with giant flimsy drop cloths. They hadn’t been used in years, evidenced by the thin layer of dust that coated them when you’d dug them out from the back of the supply closet. You’d tried your best to shake it all off but instead sent yourself into a sneezing fit. 

Eddie sauntered into the lobby at a quarter after ten. Gray sweatpants sagged at his waist, the drawstring noticeably missing from the elastic band, and his white cotton undershirt had a tan stain that spread across his left pec. 

“Coffee,” he explained with a shrug, rolling a hair tie off of his wrist and pulling his curls into a messy bun at the nape of his neck. He looked at you blankly and waited for you to instruct him, but you had already dove into your schoolwork. “Um, is there a ladder? Tools?” He pursed his lips and scanned the room with indifference.

“Oh! Right, yeah.” You could have smacked yourself for not having everything set up for him. “We don’t have a ladder per se, but this step stool should work fine.” You pulled it out from behind the desk along with a scoring tool, a spray bottle filled with a vinegar and water solution, and a putty knife. “I also grabbed the clock radio from my room if you wanted to listen to some music. Might help pass the time.”

Eddie nodded, watching carefully as you switched the radio on and tuned the dial to a Top 40 station. He shook his head the moment the electric beat of Haddaway’s “What is Love” played through the tinny speakers.

“Absolutely not,” he said with a scoff, dropping the supplies right where he stood, footsteps heavy even with the cloth underneath him. Without another word, he spun the knob past the static until the sound of an electric guitar crackled through. He bobbed his head a few times, finding the rhythm. “This’ll do.” 

“Not a Eurodance fan?”

His back was turned to you as he returned to the task at hand which left him unable to see the sarcastic smirk you sported. “Fuck no.” He stepped up on the tool and began cutting into the old wallpaper, puffing out an irritated laugh. “I can’t believe—scratch—you voluntarily—scratch—listen to that–scratch–shit.” His biceps flexed with each flick of the blade in a consistent rhythm. 

Drumming your fingernails on the desk, you twirled your pen in your free hand as you reread your own handwriting. You’d stayed at the library and filled notebook pages with bullet points about early childhood development until a squirrely librarian kicked you out at closing time. The choppy sentence fragments begged to be fleshed out into a fully-formed essay, but you couldn’t bring yourself to focus.

Write words. Make edits. Add a comma. Do something, anything, dammit.

Almost an hour passed without you making an iota of progress on your paper. The words swam on the page until they just looked like inky squiggles with no real meaning, your brain blank as if you’d never written anything in your life. Cool air tickled your nose as you exhaled through your lips. Why couldn’t you just concentrate?

“It’s this music,” you muttered to yourself, too low for your company to hear. Your temples throbbed with frustration, and you reached over and snapped back to the previous station. 

Eddie’s head whipped around at the sudden change, frowning when he heard pop music instead of the metal that had just been playing. “Seriously?” He leaned one hand on the wall and threw the other up in exasperation. 

“Yes, seriously,” you bit back, teeth clenched in annoyance. “I can’t focus on my writing with that on.”

Eddie grumbled something unintelligible but went back to work, the scratching serving as a strange backdrop to the song. 

Janet Jackson faded out to a too-chipper deejay. “You folks know what time it is!” His voice reminded you of old-school toothpaste commercials, over-exaggerated and unnaturally polished. “That’s right; it’s time for Rad or Retch—where I play a song from a new artist, and you call in and let me know whether you think it’s rad or if it makes you wanna retch!” 

Eddie rolled his eyes, adding an exasperated “Jesus H. Christ,” under his breath. 

“This one’s called ‘Watch Me Leave’ by Death’s Echo, a grunge group from—”

The announcement came to an abrupt end as Eddie nearly leaped from the stool to the desk and yanked the plug out of its socket. The two-pronged head hit the floor with a soft thud. 

“Hey!” Your eyes widened in confusion and then disbelief, flickering over to where he stood. You expected him to wear a scowl that matched your own; instead, he looked like he’d just taken a knife to the gut, and you took a step back. “Whoa, you okay?”

Eddie tensed the moment he detected your sympathetic tone, shoulders pinched and jaw rigid. “‘M fine.” He pressed the heel of his left hand atop his right knuckles until they cracked. “Sorry.” He bent down and gently plugged the cord back into the wall, but you immediately flicked the power button to the off-position. 

It was silent for a full minute, save for the scorer against the wall and the scratch of pen on paper. When Eddie finally spoke, his voice was so soft that you barely heard it.

“That was my band.”

Confusion creased your brows. You set down your pen and stole a glance at him. His body remained facing the wall, but he was no longer working, hands lamely at his sides. “What?”

“Death’s Echo was, uh,” he shook a rogue curl from his eyes, “that was my band.”

“Oh.” Awkwardness seeped into the room and filled every crevice as you wracked your brain for a suitable response. “But…not anymore?”

Eddie clicked his tongue. “Nope.” The p sound popped softly as though signaling the discussion’s end, but there was a pregnant pause before he started removing the wallpaper again.

“Why not?” The question sprang from your tongue, curiosity getting the best of you.

A hesitant chuckle accompanied his sigh. “I thought you didn't make small talk with strangers.” He climbed back on the step stool and ripped off a strip of paper.

“I thought we weren’t strangers anymore,” you quipped back, not missing the smile that ghosted his lips.

“Fair enough.” Eddie conceded easily, not at all angry to be proven wrong. He bit the inside of his cheek and stared up at the yellow-tinged lighting overhead before slicing into the wallpaper. “Sometimes you think you want something, but it turns out to be a steaming pile of horseshit.” The last word was punctuated by a grunt, and the last panel of wallpaper fluttered to the ground. “That’s the music industry in a nutshell.”

You nodded in agreement despite an obvious lack of knowledge.

“They sign your band,” he continued, aiming the spray bottle nozzle at the wall and pulling the trigger, “and you think it’s because they like you. Or at least your music, your sound, whatever.” He wrinkled his nose as he got an unexpected whiff of the vinegar solution’s pungency. “But you’re really just a front for whatever they want to sell. Which, apparently, is grunge.” 

You had too many questions. They probably referred to record producers or agents or some other bigwigs, you surmised, but what did they do that made Eddie so cynical? 

That was far too loaded to ask, at least in that moment, so you opted for a more humorous follow-up. “You mean it wasn’t all sex, drugs, and rock ‘n roll?” you joked, but Eddie didn’t share in your lightheartedness. 

“At the beginning, when we first got signed, yeah.” His brown eyes exuded wistfulness, remembrance of better times. He blinked twice and snapped himself out of it. “We put out a few albums that didn’t completely flop, I guess. And we were the opening act on a couple of tours. Got a good chunk of money in the bank.”

That explained the Calvin Klein underwear he was wearing on that first night. You capped your pen and leaned in, trying not to be overly inquisitive but unable to contain yourself. “So…what happened?” What led you here?

“We get called into a meeting, and we’re all thinking that the label’s gonna tell us we’re headlining, right? Maybe not, like, The Garden, but bigger venues than we usually played. But, uh…” he trailed off and rubbed the tip of his nose with an open palm, “it was an ultimatum: shift from metal to grunge, or get dropped.”

You listened intently as Eddie relayed the ordeal. The label executives had cited the increasing popularity of Nirvana and Pearl Jam along with decreasing interest in heavy metal bands. “Cobain’s selling; Ozzy isn’t,” they’d explained. If Death’s Echo wanted to play to packed arenas and have their music on mainstream radio, they had to adapt to the times.

“I told them we weren’t sellouts and to kiss my ass,” Eddie said to you, huffing out an annoyed breath. “But the rest of the band didn’t give a shit about that; if those suits told them to jump, they’d say ‘how high.’ So, I quit and waited for them to come crawling back.” 

He didn’t elaborate after that. He didn’t need to. Because if they’d done as Eddie had hoped, he wouldn’t be performing manual labor just to live in a struggling motel, basking in the gloominess that he wore like a second skin.

“If you could go back and do it differently, would you?” You grimaced at your own intrusiveness. “Sorry, that was—”

“It’s fine.” Eddie didn’t give an answer right away, his teeth grating against his lower lip. “Y’know, I’d like to say no, but losing your record deal, your apartment, your girlfriend, your so-called ‘friends,’ and every nice thing you own can make a guy kinda cynical.”

Girlfriend?

It was far from the most dire item on that list, but it needled at you. Maybe it was the mental image of Eddie watching everything get taken from him and then adding heartbreak on top of it all. 

“How about you?”

His voice yanked you from your thoughts and had your heart in your throat. “Huh?”

“You. Your whole deal.” He gestured at you with the scraper. “Why you’re always doing homework like a little nerd.” You couldn't detect a note of taunting in his teasing, only playfulness, just as it had been that very first night. 

You scowled for only a second before a smile broke through. “Don’t you have wallpaper to remove?”

Eddie snorted out a laugh. “I see how it is: when it’s my shit, I’m free to talk. But when it’s your shit, I’m a lowly employee.” He held up both hands in mock surrender. “My deepest apologies, Heiress.”

You didn’t bother to argue, choosing instead to pivot to a new subject altogether. “How long does this take, anyway?” Walking out from behind the desk to inspect his work, you ran your finger down the wall. Once you got past the stench of vinegar, he was actually doing a pretty good job.  

“You think you could do better?” He saw your gentle ribbing and upped the ante, holding out the putty scraper as if saying, be my guest.

Plucking it from his grasp, you smirked and chose a spot right at eye level. Challenge accepted. 

Though the glue had softened considerably, removing it still required decent muscle. You put your bodyweight into it and pushed through the resistance, but you only managed to pull off a little bit. 

You heard Eddie laugh through his nose as he stood behind you, watching you struggle. “Harder than it looks, huh?” He ignored your middle finger and stepped a half-inch closer. “Let me help.”

One calloused hand dwarfed yours, his fingers wrapping around where your fist held the scraper. The other found purchase on the bicep of your free arm where your T-shirt’s cuff met skin, stabilizing without entrapping you. You could easily get out of his grasp if you wanted. 

You stayed there. 

He tightened his grip around yours and made short, downward strokes, admittedly taking off far more glue than you had. “There ya go,” he murmured. His breath was warm on your neck, gooseflesh rising when he spoke. You hoped he wouldn’t notice. “Just like that.”

Butterflies beat their wings in your stomach, a result of the unexpected proximity compounded by an unmet need for connection that starkly contrasted the night shift’s normal solitude. A loose tendril of his hair tickled against your ear, and the realization of how close your bodies actually were shattered whatever spell had been cast. 

Eddie pulled away quickly, the air cooling where his hand once rested. Did he also feel that sudden loss of contact, or was it all in your head?

With a shaky breath, you stepped aside and silently returned the tool to him. “Should probably leave this to the expert,” you muttered, forcing nervous laughter. “I have to get back to writing anyway.”

His eyes bored into you as you walked back to the desk, but neither of you said another word. You glanced over at him every so often, noting the perspiration dampening his collar and under his arms as he toiled away at the glue and wished you had a water bottle to offer him.

Maybe next time. 

You got halfway through the first body paragraph when Eddie spoke again.

“You’re really not gonna talk?”

You looked up to see him swipe his forearm along his brows as he shot you a tired grin.

“We just had a whole conversation,” you pointed out, returning your attention to your essay. 

“About me,” he said. He wiped his palms on his pants, leaving behind a sweaty print, and traipsed over to you. “I mean, every time I see you, you’re either going to school or coming back from school or doing work for school…” 

You shrugged, no big deal. “Okay, yeah, I go to school.”

“For what?”

Shit. “Hospitality and hotel management.”

“Really.” Eddie leaned over and snatched up your paper. You reached out to grab it back, but it was too late. The bridge of his nose scrunched as he read the opening paragraph to himself. “Doesn’t look like hospitality to me.” Amusement raised his brows. “Care to explain?”

It was the last thing you wanted to do, but you felt strangely obligated. He’d confided in you, so you should at least moderately indulge him. 

“Fine,” you relented, “I’m studying psychology.” That might have been the first time you’d ever said those words aloud in the motel lobby; it was oddly freeing. 

Eddie nodded and continued to scan the paper. “You wanna be a shrink?”

“Social worker.” 

He let out a low whistle. “That’s a tough gig. Especially if you’re working with kids.” He shook the essay pages for emphasis. 

“Yeah. I know.”

“Right.” He shoved one hand in his pants pocket. “What made you decide to be a social worker?”

You breathed out a laugh. “You want the easy answer or the real one?”

He didn’t hesitate before answering. “Real one. Always.” He returned your essay and rested his un-pocketed hand on the desk. Inquiring eyes beckoned you to continue.

With less trepidation than you’d anticipated, you tell him the story of that fateful day in the summer of 1987, just two years after you’d graduated from high school.

You were still working the afternoon shift, and summer break brought its usual influx of guests. People came and went in blurs of luggage, but there was one particular patron who had made her presence known.

“Hi!”

You peered over the desk to find the source of the lively greeting. A young girl, no older than five, stared back at you, syrupy grape stickiness surrounding her lips. The cause was most likely a popsicle, as evidenced by the purple stained stick clenched in her right hand.

“Um, hi,” you said with a smile that was, for the first time in a long while, not encased in customer service insincerity. “What’s your name?” And where did you come from?

Unfazed by your bewilderment, she introduced herself as Izzy and asked you if you wanted to play. “We just have to stay here, or else my mommy will get mad,” she explained with urgency.

You nodded slowly, sorting through the information without raising any alarm. “And where is your mommy?”

Izzy’s hazel eyes darted back towards the hallway. “In our room. She’s with a friend so I can’t go in.” She dropped her voice to what she considered a whisper, but it was still clear as day. “Her friend is a boy.”

Your stomach turned. Of course. Instead of watching her child, this mother was probably shooting up with her boyfriend of the week. 

“I can’t play right now, but you can sit here with me until your mommy and her friend come back out,” you said. “I have paper and pens if you wanna draw.”

This satisfied her, and she plopped down on the floor and patted the spot next to her. That day hadn’t been particularly hectic, so you obliged and sat.

“What’re you gonna draw?” Izzy asked, reaching for a blue pen. You didn’t have time to answer before she proudly announced, “I’m gonna draw a flower. Do you like flowers?”

“Mhm.”

Izzy smiled as she surrounded a circle with swirling loops. “You can draw a flower, too. Maybe a rose. Or a sunflower!”

Her excitement at the latter option was all you needed. “Sunflower it is, Miss Izzy.” You drew a circle of your own and filled it with a cross-hatched pattern, curating pointed-tipped petals around it. 

“D’you have crayons?” she asked, not looking up from her own flower.

You put down your pen and offered a pitying frown. “No, I’m sorry.”

“S’okay. You should get some, though. ‘Cause you can draw prettier flowers with crayons.” 

The two of you stayed on the floor for ten minutes. All the while, she quizzed you on your favorite color, animal, food, and TV show. She was halfway through a heated explanation of why Friend Bear was superior to Share Bear when a frantic voice called out her name. 

“Mommy!” Izzy practically flew into her mother’s arms. You watched as the woman’s entire body sagged in relief, pulling her daughter in close. A man trailed behind her, discreetly zipping up his fly and walking out the front door. 

“Izzy, I told you to sit in the hall and eat your ice pop,” her mom gently scolded, words muffled by her lips being pressed to Izzy’s scalp. 

Izzy scrunched her nose in confusion. “But I finished it.” She pointed at the empty stick, now on the ground where she’d been sitting, as proof. In true childlike fashion, she jumped to a new topic without waiting for the first conversation to conclude. “Mommy, you wanna see what I drawed?”

“Of course, baby.” She easily feigned excitement as Izzy presented her with a series of scribbles that were meant to be various flowers, people, and farm animals. “Wow! I think you’re gonna be an artist one day.”

The little girl continued chatting, blissfully unaware of the panic she’d inadvertently caused. Her mom allowed herself to look away for just a moment to glance at you, mouthing a tiny “thank you” and blinking her tear-filled eyes.

“And…I don’t know,” you lamely supplied as you wrapped up the story. “I guess I realized that I had all of these assumptions, this sort of preconceived notion that this woman was a deadbeat parent, but she obviously loved Izzy more than anything.” You picked at your thumbnail nervously. “No one should have to sell their body for money just to survive. She deserved better than that.” 

Eddie stayed quiet for a moment, absorbing everything you’d thrown at him. “And you wanted to help her,” he finally said.

“Yeah.” You thought back to the way her gaze simultaneously held gratitude and guilt. Her daughter was safe, but she knew that this was not the final time she’d be in this predicament.

The experience had awakened a realization in you: working at the motel was never your dream, but it kept a roof over your head and food in your belly. You weren’t left to navigate the world on your own. Independence was a privilege, not a mandate.

“For what it’s worth,” Eddie broke in, “I think you’ll be a great social worker someday.” He rapped his knuckles on the desk twice and slipped back to the awaiting task; despite insisting that you talked to him while he worked, he hadn’t touched any of the tools while you spoke.

Your smile was a thank you, and you tuned the radio back to the metal station Eddie had chosen earlier. He didn’t say anything else, but you noted the subtle tap of his toe against the drop cloth.

Eddie worked for a few more hours until he’d stripped the wall of all paper and glue. “All right,” he said, balancing the step stool on two fingers. Sleepiness softened his own smile, all lips and no teeth. “Let me know when the new wallpaper comes in. You, uh, know where I live.”

“Will do.” Your thumb absently grazed against the words you’d just written, smudging them. You rubbed at the black ink seeping into your skin, silently chastising your own carelessness. “Good night, Eddie.”

He stretched and scratched at the U-neck of his collar, exposing a sliver of chest hair. 

“Sweet dreams, Heiress.”

--

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[another-goblin]

A little analysis of Ratio's owl symbolism. He's absolutely covered (and surrounded) with stylized images of owls. Here are just some examples (feel free to study him to find more). He was even (apparently) supposed to wear an owl mask in an older version of his design. But why.

1. In western culture, owls are traditionally associated with knowledge and wisdom, which indicates his connection with Erudition, as a scientist. That's the most obvious explanation for his owl imagery, and probably the only one intended by the designers. But why stop here. Why not overanalyze it.

2. Owls are known as highly specialized and effective predators. So basically, an embodiment of the Hunt.

Dr. Ratio (about the phase flame): Do you know what to do with cornered prey? Hunt it to the death.

Btw, considering that paths are not just a gameplay convention but the actual in-universe things characters recognize in themselves and others, it's even more ironic that the character who dedicated his whole life to science and education belongs to the Hunt. Because gameplay-wise, the Hunt is the opposite of Erudition. The poor guy couldn't have been further away from Nous even if he tried.

3. Owls are good at being unnoticed. They hunt by hiding, observing, and waiting for the right time to strike. It reminds me of that mission at Herta Station, where we first met him. Most people on the station didn't even know that he was there, even though he personally saved these researchers. 

Screwllum (about Ratio's involvement in that mission): …and pulling the strings from behind the curtain is akin to laying down the gauntlet to a genius.

There is a theory that more or less the same thing is happening on Penacony, with most characters probably not knowing that he's even there.

4. The special structure of an owl's wings and feathers makes their flight practically noiseless, so they can approach their prey unnoticed. In addition to point 3, with him moving through Herta station unnoticed, it also reminds me of how he silently disappeared a couple of times in the middle of his conversation with Aventurine.

5. They gave him vertical pupils, probably in an attempt to make his eyes more owl-like. The problem is, I wasn't able to find a single photo of an owl with vertical pupils. They are round. So, if anything, it makes him look more like a cat.

6. And the last point, it's most likely not true, it's my little conspiracy/crack-theory. 

But he's sometimes referred to as a Professor; he's as much of an Owl as Aventurine is a peacock. Game, please don't tell me he has nothing to do with Penacony's Professor Owl the origami birds often mention, whoever it is.

In fact, if he wasn't too young for that, I wouldn't be surprised if he had something to do with the creation of Dreaworld. Because he mentioned before that taking a bath helps him with going to sleep, and on Penacony you take a bath to go to sleep (what are the chances), and then you enter a world filled with images of owls. It's probably actually nothing, but what a coincidence.