#but i meant for them to have minimal shading at most

[winterarmyy]

Behind The Facades | Part I

An unrequited pining over a certain super soldier.

Summary: In which Y/N is pining over Bucky while she watch him wrap his arms around someone else.

Navigation: Part I || Part II || Part III (end)

Words: 1.2k++

Pairings: avenger!bucky x female!reader

Warnings: angst. just pure angst and pain.

P/S: i'm feeling melancholy all of the sudden, therefore this idea was born. It's a very short one but I hope you enjoy!

Read my other works here: Masterlist

"Never let your true feelings show." was one and if not the most important lesson Y/N learned from where she was trained before becoming an agent under the avengers program.

It was so deeply etched within her very being, that the habit had became as natural as breathing the air into her lungs.

"Keep that mask on, and no one will be able ever break you." They said.

So, she did exactly that.

She giggled when Bucky told her about how he managed to make a fool of himself when he attempted to flirt a girl that he had fallen for at that bar he regularly went to.

He really shouldn't read those random top 10 pickuplines articles on Google anymore.

Tears were threaten to fall, as her shoulders shook in silent laughter, "Really, Barnes? I thought you were the ladies man back in the 40's"

"Exactly. 'Were' . Now, I am clearly not. Urghh, I can't believe I let that birdbrain convince me that these 'pickuplines' would do the trick."

Despite his gruff annoyance towards Sam, she could see a tinge of red shade on Bucky's cheek; probably feel embarrassed from what happened.

Gulping down whatever drink he had in his glass Bucky huffed, "Honestly, I don't think any sane person would even consider to approach me, let alone date me." His sharp gaze wavered into something more vulnerable.

Though he didn't mention anything about his history but when he shifted his view to the metal of his left hand, Y/N knew what he meant.

Y/N gaze softens, "I'm here with you. Am I not?" Her nails dug into the skin of her thighs as she held back from wanting to touch him, kiss him, hold him; to whisper sweet nothings in his ears in hopes that it would shut whatever doubts he has of himself even for just a moment.

There was a swift glaze over Bucky's eyes. As if he realized something but his words seems to deny his revelation, "I said 'sane person', Y/N."

Y/N gasped with an exaggerated perplex on her expression, "Sargent James Buchanan Barnes..." she purposely called him by his title, hoping it will remind him that he should have the reputation of a respectful man, "... are you accusing me of losing my sanity?"

Bucky shrugs with a face of pure innocence, "In this tower? We all are. But, especially you." a playful smirk tugged the corner of his lips as he waited to witness her reaction.

She stifled a laugh when she heard a knock on her door and then greeted by what looked like a mountain flower, and in between them was Bucky.

He had impulsively bought almost half a dozen bouquet of flowers because he couldn't decided which one of them is pretty enough for his date.

He shyly laughed it off when she told him "You could've face-timed me at the shop instead of ended up buying this much of flowers, Buck."

"God, you're right, doll. Why didn't I thought of that?" He frowned as he sighed.

"Because you're old and forgetful, that's why." Y/N teased as she leaned to the door frame, arms folded across her chest.

Bucky rolled his eyes before sending a glare towards her, "You're not going to stop mentioning my age in everything, are you?" he grumbled.

He might not know it but Y/N managed to noticed a tiny pout on his lips; something only, as they said, Steve can notice. That slight difference on his lowers lips; a very minimal protrude, barely noticable.

But secretly, she can see it too. And it was something she wished she could brag about, something she could tell the world; how lucky she was to be able to notice those little things about him.

She chuckled with an answer, "Never."

Another grumble escaped from Bucky somewhere behind the bouquets, before he presented a particular set towards Y/N, "Anyway, this is for you." He acts reluctant but she knew he was always sincere with actions.

Her eyes skimmed through the gorgeous arrangement of daisies; her favourite.

For a mere second, she let her heart flutter and a genuine smile bloomed on her lips; however the truth was not supposed to surface.

If Bucky was not blinded by the bouquet, he would've seen how the joyous glint her eyes faded even if her smile was still intact.

"Bribery is an act against the law, you do know that right, Sargent?" Nevertheless, her hands reached out to take the gift.

Bucky chuckled in response, "Yes, ma'am. I do."

She smiled when Bucky's love-struck gaze shines when he told her about his first kiss with that lucky lady, during one of those midnight coffee trips she share with him at the pantry.

He should've seen how beautiful he looked that night; free of worries and caught in pure joy.

"It was..." Bucky sighed in content; he was so happy he lost his words. As he tried to find the right description of the kiss, she could see his gaze softens.

Y/N knew he was recalling the kiss, but she couldn't help but to fall for him all over again; not that it's not a recurring event everyday but she really did felt as if her heart stopped for more than necessary.

'He's so happy.' She thought to herself. 'Then, I should be happy for him too'

So she did exactly how it supposed to be done.

"Mirror their feelings; that way your true feelings will never show."

Y/N did exactly that.

That one habit that had lead Y/N to countless of undercover missions.

The same missions that left Y/N with one of the highest rate of successful inflitration, unharmed.

And yet, the facade she wore seemed to failed her this time.

Why didn't work?

Why does it hurts?

The longer she kept the mask on, the more it burns from within.

"Keep that mask on, and no one will be able ever break you."

Then, why does her heart aches as if it was falling apart?

Y/N could feel how weak her knees were becoming, she had to lean on counter tops for support. The slow ballad filling the living room, leaking to the pantry from where she stood and watched.

Oh, she loved this song.

She wrapped her shivering hands around the warm cup of coffee that she made as she watched the couple danced. And the longer her longing gaze linger on Bucky, the blurrier her vision get.

"Y/N..." Natasha softly grazed the side of Y/N's arm. How could she not notice Natasha coming in. Must have been her widow effect.

"You're breaking, honey." Natasha was meaning to imply about Y/N's heart but she was so set on hiding her feelings she thought Natasha meant differently, "I know." She replied as she sipped on the warm drink.

Her facades are breaking.

Her hazy vision remained on the, now shadows of the dancing couple, "I will put up a new one." She didn't even notice how her own voice cracked.

Tears overflowed from the corner of her eyes, "Just let this one crumble." Her lips trembled as she told the truth, "Cause I don't think I can fix this."

Part II >>

Read my other works here: Masterlist

A/N: I'm thinking to have more of this couple; should i do it? Any thoughts?

[alexanderwales]

The Index

This is an index of things I've written and posted online, with minimal descriptions because most of them have blurbs if you click the link. This list is not exhaustive, especially because there are a bunch of short stories and dribbles in various places. If something you liked is missing, let me know.

Web Serials

Worth the Candle - Juniper Smith is a teenaged Dungeon Master who ends up in a world filled with all the things he dreamt up for his campaigns, along with signs of his friend who died months earlier. This Used to be About Dungeons - Five teenagers live in a house together, bake bread, tend the garden, and occasionally fight monsters in dungeons. Thresholder - Thresholders travel from world to world, fantasy one minute and scifi the next, always encountering an opponent, growing stronger as they battle. Shadows of the Limelight - Fame gives you superpowers, and Dominic just saved the world's greatest hero from defeat in full view of a large audience. Glimwarden (unfinished) - A small town huddles around lanterns that keep the darklings at bay. Four teenagers must grow in power as the darkness encroaches. The Dark Wizard of Donkerk (unedited) - Two men steal a baby from an orphanage, then find out he's too cute to sacrifice and raise him as their own.

Fanfic

The Metropolitan Man (Superman) - Lex Luthor attempts to unravel the secrets of the alien. A Common Sense Guide to Doing the Most Good (Superman) - Superman gets really into effective altruism. Instruments of Destruction (Star Wars) - A fable of project management aboard the second Death Star, through the eyes of Admiral Tian Jerjerrod. Branches on the Tree of Time (Terminator) - Sarah Connor is working as a software engineer at UCLA when a naked man shows up on her doorstep. A Bluer Shade of White (Frozen) - Elsa can make life, and Olaf is smarter than he looks.

Shorts

Eager Readers in Your Area - Artificial intelligence has left authors scrambling for readers. Charlotte clicks on an ad. Variations - An orc visits an art exhibition where she feels out of place. Contratto - Julia takes a job as a marketer, working for the vampires to keep their secrets safe. The Randi Prize - James Randi offers a prize for anyone who can demonstrate supernatural abilities. Coming Home - After a long time isekaied to a fantasy kingdom, an errant father has coffee with his estranged son.

I also post short stuff to this very tumblr, which can usually be found under the #microfiction tag unless I forget. Usually this is mirrored on AO3, unless I'm lazy.

Web Comics

Millennial Scarlet - Lamont Pearce is a gig economy demon hunter whose mother ran a government agency meant to defend against Hell. Worth the Candle - A webcomic adaptation of the web serial

Non-Fiction

The AI Art Apocalypse - Slightly outdated thoughts from 2022. Why to Write a Sex Scene - Observations on the narrative purpose of carnal pursuits. Game Review: Underhill - This review contains no screenshots, because this game does not exist. Writing: An FAQ - Accumulated wisdom from 4 million words and counting. Creating Interesting Magic - A much-requested post on making interesting magic systems (and characters, and plots, and worlds). How to Write a Web Serial - It's both easier and harder than you think. The Trouble with Writing Nazis - On giving villains too much credit. Interesting Things to do with Time Loops - Exploring the boundaries of the conceit.

[lirational]

Bait

Eldritch AU Path to Nowhere inspired by this image.

Monster!Shalom x Reader

Warnings: Dark content, dubious consent, general monsterfuckery, implied breeding, questionable anatomy, questionable science ethics or honestly ethics in general. DEAD DOVE: DO NOT EAT

SMUT UNDER THE CUT, MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

—

“It seems that they take a particular enjoyment to observing both of us.”

A statement, not a question. You were used to observing beings that are not of this world, captured by unknown means and now kept here to minimize their danger to the world at large. Monsters. You hesitate to call them that, as the term implies they were driven by familiar, animalistic instincts much like creatures of this world, while they seem to operate less on instinct and more on an unfathomable logic that you, and most human beings, lack the capacity to comprehend, a phenomenon which you and everyone here would witness whenever any of them deigned to entertain themselves with your reactions.

Perhaps, you should count yourself lucky that even after the higher ups captured them and shoved them in this facility designed as a cage, most of them were willing to adapt to parameters acceptable to humans. You’ve seen the ease of which some of them ruin lives when agitated, remembering that hapless scientist who tried to debate S-087 about the true nature of the universe and ended up being a little less, ah, comprehensible after she witnessed a glimpse of something not meant to be seen. You shudder, lost in the thought of the fate of your colleague after that ordeal instead of entertaining the monster in front of you with a response—

A cold feeling interrupted your thoughts, slender fingers wrapping on your wrist as the monster directed your hand to touch her cheek. She was now only centimeters away from your face, her fingers playing with your hand as she asked, “Your thoughts seem to be wandering away. What is it in your expression, ah, penny for your thoughts?”

She paused, letting her words sink in. In that brief moment, the triangular symbol in her eye seemed to flicker and flash.

“I cannot say I like being treated as if I’m not present.”

“S-017, I only wanted to record more information about that World of Mania you mentioned. Your thoughts about the research procedure is irrelevant,” you answer, the fake detachment all too evident to you. A part of you dislike treating her in such a cold manner, but this was one of the most basic things they drilled in your training manual. They are not people, there is no need to treat them as such, and don’t show your fear to them, for they might - and on occassions, have - take advantage of it.

“It’s Shalom,” she responded, her smile unfading, face close enough you could feel the warmth of her breathing. You have been warned about this, read the case files about how Sha— S-017 presents a veneer of perfection in each of her movements, and only when you pay very close attention you can see traces of her inhumanity. Every single part of her seems to be sculpted without flaw, from her porcelain skin to her doctored expressions, down to the vivid shade of maroon hair that faded into white as they tickled your skin and pooled on your lap from your proximity. Some of your colleagues have theorized that her perfection was meant to lull, to decrease one’s wariness towards her and lure people’s eyes from her less human traits. About the only part of her that gives away her true nature was the triangle in her right eye, but you suspect that if she didn’t want to show that part of her, you won’t even know it was there. “Perhaps it is irrelevant to the scheduled questioning we’re having right now, but I’m sure you are familiar with scientific curiosity.”

In that moment, your senses tinged a little as cold, vivid blue invaded the edges of your vision. A warning? Even if Shalom didn’t mean it as that, you’d rather not push it into a situation where being smashed into bloody pulp is the least undesirable fate. Many of your colleagues have theorized that the creatures held here merely stayed because the facility provided a measure of entertainment or possess something they want, and if any of them has a shred of determination to escape, the facility would be gone without a trace in the time it took for you to blink.

“I’m sorry, Shalom, may I ask you to elaborate about the World of Mania you mentioned in our last session?” You indulged her.

“Mhm, that’s more like it,” she hummed, clearly pleased. “Sure, I don’t mind, maybe I’ll tell you later.”

In your overstuffed armchair, you could feel something slither onto you, her stare anchoring you in place as the foreign tendril slides up your leg. More joined to trace your arms, and you glance at the camera stationed nearby, wordlessly pleading for the scientist watching the whole thing to get up and get help. It didn’t take long for Shalom to use another of her tendrils as a lithe finger to tilt your chin back to her, drowning you into her unmoving stare, “I will tell you, but in exchange…” she let her words sink in for a moment, “Won’t you entertain me?”

There was no need to be a, well, rocket scientist to understand what she was getting at. Her words carried a certain cadence to it, and you squirm in response, your head turning to look at the camera to scream for help, the monster’s feelings be damned. However, she was faster, one tendril rubbing circles on your clothed clit, the other teasing your lips, before holding down your tongue to render your plea ineffective. For a moment, blue flooded your vision, and when it subsided, the space around you has been warped, the door out of this room buried behind layers and layers of walls as the space itself warped to form a dark, foreboding maze. Did they not see what happened to you? Did they decide to dispose of you as punishment for something you weren’t aware of—?

“Again, what is bothering you? Ah, let me guess, are you bothered by the eyes trained on us?”

“S-017, I’m not here to, in your words, entertain you. You’re crossing and breaking several— ah, facility rules we are both bound with,” your voice was shaking, the authority and distance you tried to imbue into it fading as you gulp at the feeling of another tendril slipping past the band of your undergarments to play at your shamefully wet core. Your back was pressed to the stuffed chair, your movements limited as the tendrils around your limbs started to tighten, not enough to hurt, but enough to disallow you from moving even an inch without her permission.

From your files, S-017 seemed to be the rational sort, and you hoped the appeal to her rationality would allow you to escape this horrifying predicament. Even as your body started to ache and quiver with need from Shalom’s teasing touches, you still have enough of a mind to remember that both of you are being watched and recorded. At least, you would buy another few precious seconds for the security squad to come barging in, hopefully distracting her—

“Frankly, your rules hold no relevance to me,” Shalom answered, mismatched eyes glancing at the direction of what seemed to be a wall she erected herself by warping the space. “I’m sure you are familiar with the concept of bartering, hm? You get information, and I get a little bit of entertainment while I’m cooped in here. It’s a win-win for both of us, hm?”

Each word from her lips seem to infuse the air itself, thickening each breath you take in and eroding your reason to stoke your desire. Shalom stood up, taking a step back while she snapped her fingers, engulfing the chair you sat on with a gelatinous substance before the object disappeared into the darkness. Now, you were only held up by her tendrils, helplessly hung in the air as she drank in your appearance. Four more tentacles, two sliding out from somewhere on her back and the others from behind her legs, move towards you and made quick work on your clothes, the articles left to drop in a haphazard pile on the floor.

“I’m not here for you, or anyone else to have sex with. I will forward the request for approval to the facility if you want something of that nature, but—“

In that moment, the symbol on her right eye seems to bore right into your soul, then she stroked your cheek, voice soothing, tickling the air and making you gulp. Was it fear or anticipation? You could no longer be sure. “What got you so frightened? You will not share the fate of your colleagues, or come back as anything else but a normal, living person. Does it count as killing you a little if you come back out perhaps a bit exhausted?” She mused, practiced amusement sliding into her tone. ���Don’t worry, I’ll make it pleasurable for you, too.”

Another couple of tendrils engulfed her clothes, and you were left with the sight of her naked body. Just how many did she hide behind that human appearance of hers? Regardless, like what you had always seen, every part of her was sculpted to perfection, any blemish and flaw hidden, or perhaps, she never allowed any to mar her. A few of your colleagues had theorized she made her own body, or perhaps, stole one from an unsuspecting person before she came to be imprisoned in the facility, but regardless, S-017 - Shalom’s perfectionism was well-known among your fellow researchers, to an unsettling degree.

“Does this body appeal to you?” The question snapped you out of your own reverie, not helped as she emphasizes her words with a rough pinch on your nipples. She sounded amused, sitting on thin air propped with her own alien limbs. This was the first time you had ever gotten a proper look of them, the tendrils starting with a vivid maroon of her hair, before fading to white and glowing in a bright, luminescent blue at the tips.

“Answer me,” she demanded, tendrils forcing you to look at her eyes. A lulling blue glow flooded your vision for a moment, and when it fades, your mind felt hazy, cloudy, your inhibition loosening as approval tumbled down from your lips. It felt good, it felt good as she smiled, and at least, even if the facility won’t send anyone, you can take comfort in the fact that the monster before you seem to be fond enough of you. The limbs propping you up shifted and made you lean forward, ass up in the air, another tentacle invading your puckered hole, only leaving your mouth free.

“Service me, and I’ll see that you’re returned, more or less unharmed.”

Accompanied with a flash of blue in your vision, her order seeped into your mind in a more direct way compared to a verbal command, an easy pleasure invading your body as you leaned as close as she allowed you, to the dripping slit between her legs. Hesitation screamed at the edge of your thoughts, yet, you could no longer process it, your tongue lapping at her with the fervor rivalling one induced by addiction. Your reward came in the form of pleasure as the tendrils nestled inside you start to move in tune with your movements, brushing that spongy spot while unnatural glee washed all over your body. It was as if each of the monster’s words carry a hidden reward, one that would be released as flashes of happiness as you obeyed her.

As your climb ever closer to your peak, Shalom released two more tendrils from her back, covering your eyes until all you could feel, could hear, could taste, was her, her moans of pleasure that sends happiness jolting straight into your quivering body, and the feeling of her tendrils invading deep, deep into you as if to prevent you from knowing, perceiving anything else. In the darkness, your senses felt sharper, each brush becoming tenfold in its intensity as you felt yourself thrown and engulfed in the throes of pleasure.

Everything was heightened, sharper. As you reached that sweet release, you tasted her release right at the same time, only for it to be snatched in an instant as you taste the monster’s lips on yours. You were far too distracted, unaware as foreign objects settled deep in your body, only feeling the oddity for a moment before you were dragged back to feel the full force of pleasure. She swallowed your screams, leaving you dripping, out of breath, and hung suspended in the air as the tentacles covering your eyes start to shift away, allowing you your sight again, to see Shalom looking especially pleased with herself. In contrast to the mess you were in, she had already dressed herself, no proof of the pleasure you had shared could be seen on her.

A contrast to your messed-up state.

While propping you up, she lowered you and let you stand, and in a flash of blue in your vision, you were already dressed.

“That completes the deal, as for my end—“

A tentacle probed into your head, not at all painful, yet there was a strangeness to it that you couldn’t put your finger on. As it reached a part of your mind, you saw images, information engraved directly into your memories. It felt like an eternity before she released her hold on you, and when she did, the room has returned to its prior state, no trace of the maze in sight.

“Huh…?” You mumble, dumbfounded. “Did no one see that, or was that just a—“

“Dream? Of course not, they have been pretty busy, I might add, but they can’t reach both of us in the corner of an ever-shifting maze. I would estimate it will take them around a century to find the exit, if they keep searching the entire time,” Shalom smiled at your dumbfounded expression, “Don’t worry, once you open that door, they’ll be transported back somewhere in this building. After all, I want you to be able to come back here without suffering any consequence, but…”

Her smile turns hungry.

“Come back in time, otherwise, you’ll be in for quite an amusing experience, alright?”

[neon-junkie]

In the Heat of the Moment - Chpt.6

Summary: “Less than ten percent of domesticated species go into heats,” accord to Tech and his research, and (un)fortunately, you’re one of that ten percent. What else are you meant to do? Trapped during a heat cycle with five men - five willing men who are happy to help relieve you, but not all have the confidence to say so.

Relationship: The Bad Batch x fem!Reader (she/her)

Tags: Heats, Mating, Sex pollen, Friends with benefits, Friends to lovers, Slow burn, Sex, Jealousy, Pining, Cuddling, Huddling for warmth, Tags to be added.

Word count: 2.8k

[Chapter 1]  [Chapter 7]

Chapter 6 - Hot ‘n’ Cold

Two suns.

Why does Tatooine need two suns?

It's not like you can do repairs during the night, either, as the temperature plummets so deep that your goosebumps have goosebumps. Plus, it's dark... Duh!

So, all you and the others can do is work away during the blazing heat. Bunks have been stripped, the sheets being used as make-shift shade whilst you work, only to be pulled down and wrapped up in when the temperature drops every night. Your heat cycle has taken pity on you, as it's relaxed these last few days. Bless Echo for giving you a good run for your money, as he's kept you fully stocked.

Well, there have been odd moments where you can feel your hormones playing up, only for the sweltering blaze from the suns to knock them down a peg.

Speaking of the heat, it's provided you with a new threat - shirtless men.

It's understandable that the Batch want to work on repairs in as minimal clothing as possible, seeing as their armour isn't designed to keep the heat out - not when it's painted black, a colour that attracts heat. To combat their little problem, they've decided to work shirtless, with their lower half sporting sweatpants or sleep shorts.

You've been working in the bare minimum, too. And as curious as your eyes are, the Batch are just as guilty. Some of them haven't even bothered looking away when you've caught them eyeing you up, such as when Echo merely shrugged and replied, "what? These glances keep me motivated."

Charming.

There is, surprisingly, no signal out in the Dune Sea. Whilst you and Tech remain on the Marauder to focus on repairs, the others have taken on the task of trekking to Mos Espa, desperate for supplies, and hopefully, a call for help. That is, if the Republic answers - their lines are almost always busy.

The Batch set out at the crack of dawn, and now that the suns are shining overhead, you assume that they must be there by now. The midday heat is unbearable, and wanting to avoid the blaze, you enter the Marauder. It's durasteel structure traps some heat, but thankfully, the air-conditioning is up and running, and despite its funny smell, you enjoy the decline in temperature.

Not wanting to lie on the leather seats, only to peel yourself off them later, you decide to settle on the floor. A heavy sigh escapes your lips as you lie back against the wall, followed up by you taking a well-needed drink from your water bottle.

"Having another break, are we?" Tech's voice chimes out as he also enters the cockpit. His brows are furrowed as he gazes over your form, and you know that he's silently cursing himself for being the mechanic of the Batch, meaning he has the most responsibility when it comes to repairs. Not everybody can lounge around like you, (apparently.)

You don't fancy putting up with Tech's petty remarks, and as luck would have it, you have a reasonable explanation for your 'break.' "Yeah, I just need a moment... something is playing up," you gesture to your lower abdomen, which causes Tech's brows to soften out, and his lips to tilt into a slant.

"Ah, I understand," he says with a nod, and decides to sit beside you, also sipping on his own bottle of water.

Silence swarms the air, however, it's not unsettling. Whilst your and Tech's relationship has become tense, there is still respect. You both know this is merely a storm that will pass, but constant wedges have formed, making it unable to rest.

Until now.

Tech, whilst moving his goggles up to rest on his forehead, comments, "whilst I would offer you assistance, I am not in a suitable state to do so." He gestures to his grimy and sweaty form, and to be fair, your state is no better. "My mind is also far too occupied with repairs, and I am sure you would not enjoy intercourse with me, seeing as my hygiene has become poor. If our resources were not limited, I would happily use the refresher, but we-"

"-It's okay, Tech," you cut his words short with a soft wave of your hand. "I'm too sweaty to fuck, too."

Tech lets out a chuckle. "Well, that is one way of putting it."

Your eyes meet for a moment, and for the first time in days, neither of you feel tense. Tech has always been such a sweetheart to you, even if he was a little awkward and unsure of you, at first. The Batch weren't used to having a Jedi around - they've never had a General before - so can you blame him for having his guard up?

Although Tech doesn't mean his next words with malice, they come out that way, regardless. "Perhaps Echo could assist you when he returns?"

"Oh," you murmur, your eyes locking onto Tech's. Within an instant, he realises his mistake, and rubs the back of his neck in worry.

"That was not a dig," he winces. "I... ahem, overheard you two the other night."

Either the heat from outside is seeping in to the cockpit, or you're burning up from embarrassment. A knot forms in your stomach, travelling up your body, and soon settling in your throat. You attempt to clear it, once, twice, and fail regardless. All you can do is own up to your shenanigans, despite them being consensual all around. "That loud, huh?" you joke.

Tech's lips purse in annoyance, "it was tolerable."

You grimace, and Tech's silent expression reads, 'keep it down next time, would you?'

"...I'm sorry," you sigh, and to your surprise, Tech swats your apology away with a wave of his hand.

"Like I stated before, I am happy with you finding relief in multiple partners," Tech says with a shrug, and whilst you're glad he's not annoyed over that, you mentally note to tone the noise down in the future. Tech continues speaking, although his words have fallen quiet, "and maybe when this storm has passed, we might be able to resume where we left off?"

Your ears perk up at the suggestion - not just because you'll be receiving relief from your body's natural cycle, but because Tech is still interested in you. Dare you think about it, but you're also questioning your chances of having both Tech and Echo at the same time, although you really shouldn't get ahead of yourself!

Resting your cheek on your palm, you sweetly coo, "awh! You miss me?" with a flirty bat of your lashes.

Tech rolls his eyes in amusement, although he can't hide the upwards turn to his lips. "I would be lying if I said that I haven't had you on my mind."

"Awhh!!" you smile, and give Tech a playful nudge. "I knew you couldn't stay mad at me!"

Tech rolls his eyes once more, a common trait of his. He tenderly places his bare hand on your forearm, and whilst keeping eye contact, he speaks. "Mesh'la, I could never stay mad at you. I was in the wrong for becoming overbearing and somewhat possessive, but I now understand that it is entirely natural, especially in your state, for your hormones to somewhat take over your emotions."

"No, no," you say with a wave of your hand. "I was in the wrong for snapping at you. You were only trying to make sure that I was eating, and taking care of myself, and I let my heat get the better of me."

Tech blinks in bewilderment before letting out a laugh, "perhaps we could agree that we were both in the wrong?"

"Perhaps," you repeat his words, imitating his accent. Tech sends you a look before moving his hand from your forearm, his palm meeting the back of your hand. He gives your hand a gentle squeeze, and to your surprise, Tech leans over to place a kiss on your forehead, unfazed by your light layer of sweat.

"I'm going to return to the repairs," Tech informs you. He stands, letting out a soft grumble as he does so, his joints cracking from exhaustion. "Join me when you're ready, and please, call out for me if you require anything."

With that, Tech is exiting the cockpit after sending you a soft smile. He disappears from your line of sight, moving down to the hull's exterior to continue his work. The back of your head meets the wall, and you let out a deep sigh, feeling relieved that you two have finally talked things out.

It was all a misunderstanding. Tech cares, and that's not something that you're used to. You shouldn't have snapped, and Tech shouldn't have pushed. Whatever. It's settled now.

You give yourself a few minutes alone before forcing yourself up to your feet, and decide to join Tech outside, eager to help him out as your way of saying thank you.

The depths of space are silent, and to your surprise, the depths of the Dune Sea are just as silent. All you can hear is the distant snoring of your squad, bound to their own rooms. It's almost unsettling, to not have the hum of the Marauder in the distance, a soft buzz as she drifts in space.

You roll onto your back, and with that, a frustrated sigh escapes your lips. You can't sleep, and surprisingly, your heat is not to blame. The desert is cold at night, so cold that it's seeped into the Marauder, and wandered into your room. No amount of blankets seem to be warming you up; you need a distraction, and hopefully, a bit of movement will warm your body up in no time.

Exiting your bunk, you pull the blankets up and over your form, and whilst grasping them tightly across your chest, you begin to make your way out of your room, ready to bug whoever is on the night shift.

"Can't sleep, huh?" Wrecker questions as he notices you in the corner of his eye. He spins the co-pilot chair around, and after setting his holopad down on the dashboard, he meets your eyes.

"Yeah," you say with a soft laugh. You nestle down in the pilots chair, tucking the blanket over your entire form as you bring your knees up to your chest. Somehow, the cockpit is even colder than your room, and you question how Wrecker can sit here in only his civvies, unfazed by the cold. "It's too cold, you know?"

"Yeah, hah!" Wrecker chuckles. "Too cold during the night, but too hot during the day..."

"Exactly," you agree with a frustrated sigh.

As you rest your head back against the chair, silence settles peacefully around both of you. Wrecker is one of those few people who you can sit in a comfortable silence with, only right now, Wrecker isn't comfortable - he's concerned, and you can sense why.

"Are you... uh..." Wrecker murmurs, and brings a palm up to meet the back of his neck. "Are you alright?" he settles on the question, short and simple, and open for any and every answer.

You trail your eyes to meet his, and there is nothing but tenderness within them. "For once, I'm just cold," you say with a shrug, causing Wrecker's expression to soften out.

"Oh," he hums. Wrecker twiddles his fingertips together as he speaks up again, "I've pieced together what is going on from your... uh, stuff. And with a bit of help from Crosshair, but if you..." his words fall flat, and Wrecker begins to stutter. "...I... uh... I guess I'm trying to say that I'm here for you? Kriff, I don't know what to say, really."

"I understand," you reply with a sweet smile. "Thank you, Wrecker. I think the worst of it has passed, but I still have my moments, you know?"

"Yeah," Wrecker says with a nod. "Crosshair went into... uh, a lot of detail when he explained it to me. Maybe too much detail, hah!"

You roll your eyes, "do I dare ask what he said?" knowing that Crosshair was bound to go down the raunchy side of things, and in some cases, exaggerate it for fun.

"It's probably best that you don't," Wrecker responds with a chuckle. The smile on his lips shifts to concern, and Wrecker raises his brows as he points out the obvious. "Kriff, you're shivering!"

You send him a numbing smile, "yeah, I'm really cold," you say with a nervous laugh.

Wrecker grumbles as he rubs the back of his neck. "Do you want to...?" he points to his lap, and makes a grabbing motion with his hands. "Maybe a cuddle will warm you up?" he suggests.

This isn't the first time that you've cuddled with Wrecker. His love language is physical touch, both in romantic and platonic relationships. Wrecker also wears his heart on his sleeve, and the comfort and security of his squad comes before his needs. Always.

"Please," is all you mutter before rising to your feet, and taking a step over to where Wrecker is sitting. Wrecker is both gentle and forward as he bundles you up in his lap, large arms wrapping around your form, practically holding you like a baby. You feel like one, too, given the size difference.

Wrecker shifts in his seat, and after checking over your body to ensure that you're fully covered with your blankets, he relaxes back against the chair. "You know, you can always borrow my hoodie," he says with a light shrug, putting another offer on the table.

"I think I'll be alright like this," you smile, already beginning to feel the warmth growing in your chest, shifting across your body. "Besides, your hoodie would probably go past my knees!"

Wrecker lets out a laugh as he holds you tighter, envisioning you wearing his hoodie. You curl up tighter against his chest, and finally, weight begins to form beneath your eyes. Body warmth is making you tired, and you know that falling asleep in Wrecker's arms is bound to happen.

Until you drift off, you decide to keep the conversation going, knowing that Wrecker won't feel insulted when you do doze off on him. Literally.

"What were you watching?" you nod your head in the direction of his datapad, sitting forgotten on the Marauder's dashboard.

"Oh, well..." Wrecker begins as he picks his datapad up, unlocking it with a swish of his finger. "We haven't got service out here, so I was going through my photos and videos," Wrecker explains, pulling up the app. The last video that he was watching comes on the screen, and automatically begins to play.

It's old, before you were stationed with them. The Batch is in their barracks back on Kamino, and each of them is dotted around the room. Most are stationed at the table, shiny clone armour scattered everywhere, minus Crosshair, who is keeping to his bunk.

"We had just graduated," Wrecker states as the video continues to play. Wrecker is the one filming, that much is obvious given how much the camera shakes, an excited Trooper running around to his squad to film them decorating their first set of armour. "We hadn't even gone on a mission yet, but we wanted to make sure that our armour was ours, you know?"

The audio is quiet, but you can make out their voices. "Let's see yours, Sarge!" Wrecker says as he shoves the camera in Hunter's face. He's so young, baby faced, and tattoo-less. His hair is barely past his ears, and to nobody's surprise, Hunter has already begun wearing a red bandana.

Hunter holds up his armour like a proud child showing off their drawing. The standard white armour has a few red details on it, but the main thing that stands out is the black '99' across the left side of his chest.

"Your symbol," you murmur, taking in how proud your boys looked back when they were shiny and new.

"Yeah," Wrecker says with a grin. "We wanted to make sure that everybody knew how defective we are, so we all decided to put '99' on our chests," he grins, and with that, the video comes to an end.

A light sigh escapes you, and as you shut your eyes, you press your head deeper against Wrecker's chest. "You're my defective boys," you coo, knowing that the word has become a symbol of power to them.

"Yeah, we are!" Wrecker says with a cheer - a light cheer, as to not startle your sleepy state.

Your eyes flutter open again, with a smile on your lips. "Show me more videos?" you question, and Wrecker is eager to take you up on that offer.

There are hours, days, possibly weeks of footage on this datapad that Wrecker is more than happy to show you. He lets you pick something out at random, and with every video that plays, Wrecker has several stories behind it.

You're content like this - cooped up in Wrecker's arms whilst he goes on about tales from the Batch's early days - so content that you might drift off to sleep.

Probably.

[runwayrunway]

No. 1 - Lufthansa

We begin with a large fish even by the standards of the large pond in which we operate. A very intentionally chosen large fish. Deutsche Lufthansa is Germany’s flag carrier and the second largest carrier in all of Europe by passenger volume. In 2018, they unveiled a new standard livery for their fleet of airplanes, and it...well. It’s this. 

Even the presentation - good lord, is this an auto show?

My feelings on Lufthansa’s 2018 livery are visceral. There’s no mental evaluation required, no taking it in, thinking about the choices made - I look at the modern Lufthansa livery and immediately, profoundly know that I hate it. And that’s not just because of the specific choices made - which are bad - but because of the space they occupy amidst a creatively barren wasteland within livery design. This is going to be a very long post, which isn’t standard for this blog, but my goal for an introduction is to break down exactly the sort of design that made me feel the need to start doing this to begin with. 

But in reality that’s only the beginning. Yes, Lufthansa’s livery is specifically disappointing, but it is so much more than that. It is the purest distillation of the greatest challenge aviation faces today, far weightier than scheduling issues, outdated IT, and runway incursions. It is not the worst example of it, not in the slightest, but it is a large airline which has a very textbook presentation of symptoms and thus feels like a great example to describe exactly what I hate about this sort of design. Let me explain. 

Essentially, airlines have found a formula. It goes as such: 

Almost entirely white body. (There is a name for this trend: Eurowhite.) In some cases, there may be a colour on the underside, generally either a light grey or whichever secondary shade the airline has committed to. In the case of this Lufthansa livery, it is just white. 

Aside from the white body there will be either a single colour (generally some dark blue, or less often some sort of red) or a few colours, usually but not exclusively on flag carriers to match their national branding. (The proliferation of red, white, and blue flags out there means that a disproportionate number of airline liveries are these colours.) Unless it is literally just a white plane meant to be as generic as possible for short turn-overs when leasing, it will at least attempt to have some sort of design, but it will be minimal, and:

All of the detail will be on the tail. There may be coloured winglets or engine nacelles, but other than that it is only at the rear of the plane that you begin to see any interest. Usually this is just a logo, though it may be an abstract design which looks like a default tumblr header. It will often only be on the tail, with nothing at all on the body proper.

The name of the airline written in a sans-serif typeface which is set as default on at least one word processor. Rarely will anything creative be done with this. It will (usually, except in egregious cases) match the impotent attempt at graphic design which has been confined to the empennage and it will have all the charm of a large retail chain’s flyer describing the benefits you’ll definitely totally get if you work for them - sickeningly corporate. Low-cost airlines may slightly vary the theme by putting their website onto the livery, either towards the back or just instead of the airline’s name. The brave will also write it on the ventral fairing, but most don’t even bother with that simple act. Some airlines have their name written in the language spoken in the country they’re based in, usually beside the English text, but most are only in English despite operating in countries where this is not the most widely spoken language. 

Not every livery which has these features is badly designed, as seemingly small changes can make all the difference. There is the occasional livery that fits most, if not all of these features that has some clever tweaks or design choices which makes me actually think it’s fine, acceptable, maybe even decent. (I have taken the initiative of making sure a few of these are among my early posts, just to demonstrate that it can be done). And some airlines depart from this entirely and come up with something even more hideous. Yet I somehow find myself respecting even these more than I do Lufthansa. 

The Corporate Standard Livery Design (Lufthansesque design, if you will) is - and I do not think I am being dramatic at all here - an epidemic. Taxiing through most airports, you sometimes have to actually try to tell the planes parked around you apart in the sea of red, blue, and mostly white. And I spend a lot of time looking at planes.  

These liveries do not only fail to inspire me. They instill in me a profound disgust. They are not trying to be good. They are trying to be what I described earlier - decent, not worth complaining about, because that’s cheaper and easier than designing something good. Graphic design is not anyone’s passion here. They’re just trying to toe the line. They’re so poisoned by the modern minimalist-design brain virus that they don’t realise that to be acceptable a livery this simple needs to do something interesting. There must be a creative decision made somewhere, a compelling feature, or you may as well be flying an MLA-formatted plane. In their striving for adequacy they become not just ambient, but lukewarm. They are a bottle of water which has sat in the sun for so long that when you drink it, even though you’re overheating and parched, it feels only negligibly better than the air you’ve been breathing in. 

To be fair, I do not only hate the Lufthansa paintjob because it exemplifies whatever-ness. Even in an industry saturated with gross in-flight nothingburgers served with some stale biscuits and a paper cup of Lipton tea, Lufthansa manages to offend in specific and unique ways. 

Throughout its long history Lufthansa has had a handful of different liveries, but from 2018 onwards this has been the situation. They’ve never been brilliant, but it’s only gotten worse over time. I normally would commit to a separate post for historical liveries, but in a move that I don’t foresee becoming particularly common I’d like to talk about the history and evolution of Lufthansa’s liveries from the golden age to now - the fall, if you will. 

(image: lufthansa bildarchiv)

Their early liveries were already pretty much plain white or metal, but they still had a few features that made them seem a bit less like photocopy paper which was meant to be printed plain blue but only got through a tenth of the sheet before ink ran out. To begin with, they used a lighter blue and combined it with a vivid yellow to add some actual visual interest. The layering of the yellow over the blue where it curves around and below the nose and on the ends of the tailplane actually draws the eye. The font choice is nice and legible, spaced apart in the center of the fuselage. I imagine it was easy to read even from far away. (Shame it’s a bit blocked by the wings from some angles, though.)

(image: lufthansa bildarchiv)

This early 707 design keeps the cheatlines extending past the nose but makes them sharper than the ones on the Connie to match the sleek profile of the jet. Back when this plane was painted adding white to your plane was a choice rather than the thing everybody was doing, which allows me to respect it for the choice it was instead of considering it the factory default. The bottom half, denoted by the cheatline, is left unpainted, which only adds to the sleekness of the overall profile, and the text is clear and plain but still aesthetically pleasing. The 707 is by modern standards pretty antique-looking; you can take one look at one and tell it isn’t particularly streamlined. This paint scheme, though, makes the plane look sharp and aerodynamic, despite not being revolutionary. I would go so far as to say I like this particular livery. This is, unfortunately, as good as it gets. 

Oh. Oh no...

Let’s assess the damage here. The cheatlines now simply meet at the front without wrapping down to the belly of the plane and the nose is a simple black tip. I like it when airlines paint their planes’ radomes, and I wouldn’t mind it here if not for what it was replacing. The font has been replaced with a generic sans serif font which is closely spaced and put up into a corner, like the name on a homework assignment - it’s not really part of the total package, just there for administrative purposes. Most upsetting to me is the tail. While I wouldn’t say I love the little section on the old plane, it at least felt like it belonged there, creating a second blue-and-yellow layer above the white. Its placement on the fin above where it begins to taper gives the plane a bit of an aerodynamic feel. It’s certainly not changing the world, but it feels at home in the livery. 

The new fin is a sharp downgrade. With nothing to mark the transition the fin abruptly goes from the white of the upper fuselage to a shiny blue which contains an enclave of the only yellow to be found on the entire aircraft. This makes the yellow stand out, as it has nothing to tie it in with the rest of the plane, and the fin itself feels almost like it’s been Frankensteined onto the fuselage from a different plane by a different airline. There’s nothing to mediate the transition from a block of white to a block of blue, like how the cheatline separates white and grey. It just is blue now, stop asking questions. This also means that the only part of the plane that the eye is really drawn to is...the tiny portion of the whole that is the fin, which may as well be floating detached in midair. 

This is foreboding. Knowing what I know now, it feels like looking back at when a romantic partner began to act strange years later, after the divorce, as you walk by the house he bought with his mistress. 

(image: g najberg)

The most recent, and only, time I flew on Lufthansa was in 2014 and was aboard one of their 747-400s. (Actually, if you’d still like to fly on a passenger 747, Lufthansa is basically your only option.) At the time, they looked like this. This is...just sad. They got rid of the cheatlines, because that’s trendy now, and they painted the whole plane white and made an attempt at lip service to the old metal lower half by painting just a bit of the plane grey, like if a human stepped into a puddle of paint that only covered the very sole of their foot. And I’m being generous by showing a 747, a plane which inherently makes any livery look less boring by being interestingly shaped itself, instead of the classic slightly pointy single-decker tube. Not to mention the double-decker design makes the text vertically centered instead of the default Lufthansa look of awkwardly shoved nearly all the way up the fuselage. 

In defense of the modern livery, it’s possible to argue it’s an improvement on this. Honestly, looking at them next to each other, it’s difficult to pick out which one I find less defensible. 

But then you see D-AIDV, an A321 painted in a heritage livery, and you feel the immediate, visceral “no!!! no go back!!!” as you remember that this is a false dichotomy and we could have something so much better if they weren’t peer-pressured into generic modern design. 

And for what? For this?

(image: hvdfonts)

For the third time, I remind you of what we have been reduced to. We have achieved a state of reductio ad absurdum where this barely qualifies as a design. This plane is more or less a white blot. You can put as many insets as you want and it is still a white blot. 

I am relatively sure that the font used is literally Helvetica. EDIT: I have been informed that it is not, in fact, Helvetica, but a custom typeface that happens to look almost exactly like Helvetica. This is, in my own opinion, worse! They did apparently use Helvetica in the past, though. Here is a very detailed description of the design process of the font, which manages to contain a grand total of zero ideas. 

I would hate this on its own already, but it’s also so closely spaced and located so far up that it makes me feel like I’m suffocating. In my own experience as a dyslexic person, kerning is the single weightiest feature when it comes to if I can easily read something or not. While Helvetica, ugly though it may be, is generally considered a very legible font, any benefits from that are more than cancelled out by committing to making sure the entire name of the airline fits between the frontmost two doors with room to spare. It feels almost hostile.

Now, all given, I at least somewhat enjoy the shade of blue used for this livery, which is darker than the normal fare. I do miss the way the grey broke up the endless white space, though, and I mourn the yellow even more - in addition to being something to look at, losing it has also lost any visible reference to the flag of Germany, the country for which Lufthansa is the flag carrier. They don’t even have the black part of the German flag despite that being basically free. If they went for black instead of dark blue I would honestly respect this a hell of a lot more. One of the most recognizable flags in the world and instead your airline looks like a discount SAS.  

Yeah, I said it. If we want to go even further with comparisons by including airlines that aren’t Lufthansa, this is basically the SAS livery. Except not, because the SAS livery does a lot that this doesn’t. 

This is about Lufthansa, not SAS. I’ll look at SAS soon enough, because comparing their look to Lufthansa’s has made me appreciate it in a way I never used to. But I don’t think I need to elaborate too much for it to be clear why SAS’s livery works and Lufthansa’s doesn’t, despite the superficial similarities. SAS took their absolutely horrid previous livery and turned it into something which might not wow anyone but at least feels uniquely theirs, while Lufthansa had something which accomplished much the same and then diluted it into nothingness, Eurowhite writ large. Two washes and you’d wonder if your Lufthansa flight is actually a Smartlynx lease.  

The way that the blue slices into the bottom of the fuselage and doesn’t fully cover the tailfin is...something? It’s a design element. It’s not nearly enough to save it, but it’s a design element. However, this presents another issue specific to Lufthansa’s paint job, best demonstrated with a specific plane: 

(image: lufthansa)

Lufthansa is the world’s largest operator of the Airbus A340, a somewhat eccentric airplane which is perhaps best thought of as a four-engined A330. I love this airplane, and am delighted seeing it overhead on my walk home from work, because Lufthansa is kind enough to operate a daily service with it to my home airport, but that’s beside the point. The point is this: what I have pictured is specifically the A340-600, which is the world’s second longest in-service airliner. Yes, longer than the A380 and the 747-400, and, in fact, only shorter than the 747-800. With a plane this long, the Lufthansa livery creates an incredible look of rear-heaviness. This plane looks like it should uncontrollably pitch up until it’s perpendicular to the ground every time it takes off. Of course this effect is less pronounced on shorter aircraft, but it’s still there, and I dislike it. 

You can barely even tell there’s paint at all on a much smaller plane! And the white bit on the front of the rudder which looks okay on a conventional empennage looks downright horrible when it’s only on the very tip of the t-tail’s forward point. 

Oh, and when you take the windows out for a freighter conversion it gets even worse. 

This is a generic-brand airplane. It genuinely reminds me of generic branding. There is a specific brand that has this exact appearance and I can’t remember what it is but it’s right there and I’m fairly sure I’ve seen it at CVS. I don’t think that’s what you want to go for when designing an airline livery, especially for an airline representing a country, but if Lufthansa wasn’t going for that they’ve failed. 

                  __________________________________________

Overall, Lufthansa’s livery is superbly boring and not terribly well thought out. It’s not worth this absolute dissertation on its own, but I’ve singled it out to complain about general trends, and for that I probably owe it an apology. Said apology is predicated on the fact that it is still a very underwhelming and bad design which could have used a lot more thought. There are a million ways this could have been made decent, and none of them were implemented because that would have taken effort and time and creative vision. I think this post actually required more time and effort than Lufthansa put into designing their planes. 

That said, Lufthansa gets a final grade of D. It’s...bad, it definitely is. There’s the vague flavour of the start of something, like the very distant smell from a barbecue happening three blocks away, but is that really even a redeeming factor? 

No. The second-largest airline in Europe should be able to do better. If I have to stare at rows upon rows of their planes any time I’m at a German airport, they should have the decency to make them interesting to look at. 

[freevoidman]

Please talk about your P3 R cutscene issues cause I have issues with them too and I'm betting you have the same ones.

LMAO I am ALSO betting it's the same as mine but I'll go into it nonetheless.

For lack of a better way to word it: I think the changes made to cutscenes--either by cutting them entirely or changing them from 2D animation from the original to the in-engine 3D ones in P3R--makes the game lose a lot of its artistic direction and the general "vibe" that the original game had.

To avoid going into spoiler territory: let's look at the first cutscene from P3FES, and compare that to it's equivalent in P3R.

First thing of note here is its chaotic nature. There is rarely a single shot that lasts for more than a few seconds. Either we cut away entirely (such as Yukari transitioning to Makoto abruptly) or something interrupts the action (the running sink briefly having a moment of static). There is a sense of chaos, the inability to focus, and inherent confusion throughout the entire first cutscene. Even at the end, when we have a point of focus in Pharos and Mitsuru, the camera still cuts, dynamic action is happening, and--most importantly for Pharos--the more "unreal" actions seem more believable. We, the audience, don't see or fully understand how he teleports around the room, why the contract vanishes, the growing of shadows as he vanishes. These are deliberate shots that are really only believable in this animated cutscene style.

A lot of things are also left up for interpretation--where are we going? Why is this girl attempting to shoot herself? Why is there suddenly a butterfly, and why does our music get louder when we see it? Is this what the protagonist is imagining while he listens to music, or is it meant to be more metaphorical to the audience? These are questions that, most notably, are left unanswered and unsaid in this first cutscene. There's a level of trust with the conveyance of information: this is what you're seeing, right now, you'll learn more later.

All of this is also carried and conveyed impressively well with its sound design. The scenes in Iwatodai are chaotically loud, multiple voices overlapping--you can catch snippets of conversation, not the full picture. We occasionally have the opening verse of Burn My Dread - Last Battle interjecting as the protagonist walks through the streets, but it's muffled through his speakers. As Yukari gets closer and closer to pulling the trigger, we only hear the section of lyrics that says "burn my dread", a constantly repeating lyric that adds a palpable sensation of terror as we, an unaware audience, believe we're about to see a suicide as the city goes on, oblivious, outside the dorm. It's a terrifying scene that really makes you worried about what comes next, especially when the first person you meet in the dorm is Yukari, who nearly pulls that same gun on you at the end.

I also want to point out stylistic approach in terms of shading--or lackthereof. This is something that modern persona games decided to ditch (I guess with rising standards in animation? idk man) but I think it's insanely great in Persona 3. Having these flat colors with minimal, if any shading is a stand-out detail, it makes everything feel flat and unreal.

This cutscene is chaotic, it is uncanny, it is uncomfortable. And that's what makes it so great. Persona 3 plays with uncomfortable themes, imagery, and its whole premise is based on an hour of suspended time, where shadows roam Japan and cause havoc that no common person can explain or understand. It is the perfect way to convey that general feeling Persona 3 carries with it.

Now, let's look at the equivalent in Persona 3 Reload.

The first thing you'll notice is the length. The opening cutscene for P3R, despite containing the same general "stuff" as P3FES, is half the length of the prior game's. This is because, once you leave the train station, the game transitions into proper gameplay, giving you control as you walk through Iwatodai to reach the dorm. In other words, everything after the dark hour initiates in the original cutscene is completely scrapped. Pharos' introduction and general teleportation weirdness, your introduction to Yukari threatening you, Mitsuru's introduction--ALL OF THAT becomes in-engine 3D. That is much less engaging and interesting! You lose all the power of those crazy camera angles, Pharos' teleportation and odd behavior becomes really sloppily executed 3D nonsense that you SEE HAPPEN, and the panic Yukari (and you, the player) feel during your first meeting is robbed.

But I digress, what else is different? Well, for one thing, there's consistent through-lines throughout the cutscene. The moon transitions quickly into a tap real, which transitions into a crosswalk with you, the protagonist, as the only colorful dot to keep an eye on. There's no loud, pumping music to hype you up or freak you out anymore, in fact, Iwatodai and Tatsumi Port Island don't feel as chaotic and crowded as a populous city should. The conversations people are having are muffled and less distinct, the audio direction in general is a lot weaker and absolutely pulls its punches when it comes to building audience suspension. There's no sudden cut of music when the Dark Hour kicks in as your speakers die--the silence was already there, the station was already empty, nothing really feels changed except the lighting (which is accompanied by a goofy sound effect, come on). That same sense of confusion is completely lost.

Instead of brief still shots of everyone moving through a crowded space, there's plenty of room for the protagonist to move. That lack of connection doesn't feel misplaced because your in a crowded city, it instead feels like you're walking through a somewhat subdued city totally fine. It doesn't carry that same disconnected feeling--in fact, it feels absurdly normal when, in the original first cutscene, you felt out of place and wrong. Also, the new shots of pedestrians are boring. Why the hell am I watching a bunch of idiots crouched on the ground and one of them falls over while everyone laughs? Why am I looking at a dog walking lady? If you're going to include these kinds of shots, why not include, idk... some of the social link people here?

Then we have... Yukari. Oh dear Yukari they fucked you up. For one thing, no sudden cuts away to increase tension! We stick with her the whole time for a measly twenty seconds and see everything resolved in one go. They also, most damningly, made Yukari talk. Now, I have no problem with Yukari in general, but in the original we had no idea what her intent was with putting the evoker to her head. Obviously, we assume suicide, but there's a palpable tension to the action when there's nothing but her panting, alone, with a sink running in the background as we hear "BURN MY DREAD" repeated over and over as she gets closer and closer to pulling the trigger. Now, as she talks, that tension is robbed, especially during her last line. "No way, I can't do it!" is completely unnecessary when we see her fall to her knees.

After that though... there's really nothing to this cutscene. There's no music, no tension, it really feels like a lot of nothing--which is a MAJOR problem when this is your opening impression. P3FES says "come on, you're in for something crazy and unique" while throwing you into the deep end of interpretation and artistic weirdness. P3R is scared and has to hold your hand as it says "Come on, here's a normal introduction, the crazy comes later" while striping the original of its teeth. It's weaker and a lot less fun to watch.

There's really never been a stronger opening for Persona 3 than the original's cutscene--hell, I would argue Persona in general hasn't had a stronger opening cutscene since. Even 5's lacked palpable tension.

Which is super depressing? Like, seriously, I'm not going to touch upon later cutscenes (both bc spoilers and, come on, we'll be here all week if I get into it), but October is FILLED with problems on an artistic level. I think the P3FES's Orpheus/Thanatos awakening is far more graphic and terrifying than P3R's Maya engine cutscene. I can't even begin to understand why Mitsuru's dad got a dedicated 2D cutscene explaining what Kirijo Corp. was doing back in the day when, iirc, the original just had Mitsuru explaining it. Cutscene direction in P3R is, at best, lacking at multiple points when stacked against is predecessor or, at worst, just feel bad and empty and, arguably, sometimes unnecessary.

[carnal-lnstinct]

for the valentines day event, can I request smth for vegito with 💙💌? either goku or vegeta, or both, have a crush on you, and vegito confesses after saving the day. I just want it to be really sweet and cheesy, but I'll leave the rest of the story up to you, so you can write it however you want!

Vegito | love confession

content: ( implied pining!goku and/or vegeta, referenced pining, flustered vegito, confession, established friendship ) warning: ( referenced canon-typical violence )

I can feel it when you hold me, when you touch me, it's so powerful. - "Powerful"

Of all the things that could have surprised Vegito today, a congratulatory and very tight hug from you was the most effective. The moment he dropped the energy barrier, it was like you were magnetized to him. Drawn in by a moment of grateful relief after the life-or-death situation forced upon the Earth and the fused saiyan stepping in to outclass the evil once again.

The world was suffocating under the poisonous aura invading the atmosphere and crumbling to the pressure of the villainous force that brought it. Come to burn it all down in an effort to cross paths with the alleged powerful being meant to rival their own might. With options running low, Goku's quick thinking and instant transmission teleported him to the Realm of the Kais seeking a solution from the Supreme Kai while Vegeta stayed to guard the remaining untouched haven of Dende's lookout. But it was only a matter of time before something so dense with negative energy penetrated even the divine palace. Putting everyone you knew at risk, including yourself. Goku returned in a nick of time with Potara earrings and with minimal fuss from his saiyan countertop, Vegito came to life.

Naturally, the fusion wipes the floor with the evil invader, cleansing the earth of the poisonous energy in the process and returning to the gathering of all his friends when the deed was done. Thanking him was all you could think to do after all that, embracing him as you had once embraced your two friends on separate occasions just felt appropriate. Vegito's reaction to it, however, only mimicked one of them. The sharp flush of pink across his face is highlighted by his super saiyan features and easy for you to tell which personality it was from. Not at all what you would expect from the man who bantered and danced circles around an opponent who had the entire Earth backed into a corner. Vegito's smile following the color on his face was what really captivated you, somehow proud and modest all at once. But mostly content as he made no motion to leave your hold.

He attempts to brush off his blush, smugly rubbing his gloved finger across his nose. "You can count on us to handle it." Turning to look off the lookout at the restored atmosphere, he gave a proud grunt and folded his arms against his broad chest. Doing all of this while loosely held in your arms. "That was hardly worth the trouble of us fusing, if not for that repulsive energy. Oh well." He shrugs. Then he turns back to look down at you. "You're alright too, that's all that matters."

Your eyes twinkled looking up at him, delighted by his caressive tone and affectionate words. You withdrew your arms from around him to hold your chest, attempting to still the sudden rush of your heart. "You were worried about me?" You asked with a soft smile.

Pointing it out only makes the cocky fusion suddenly fluster, blue eyes widening and face darkening another shade. "I-It's not like that at all, you've got the wrong idea! I was just uh-...uh..." A loss for words, as well? Unlike him. The attraction held for you ran deep through his fused form. The gentle tilt in your head and joyful stare waiting for an answer was hard for him to deny and he's not certain why he is so paralyzed by it. To be gazed upon like this, held in your arms and become the object of your attention, felt like something he's always wanted. The mixed feelings between his two halves of owning up to his feelings settled into an inspiring sensation that flooded through him. "'I-It was only for a little while. I knew there was nothing to worry about once we fused".

"Ha, I knew it. You were madly in love with (y/n) all along!" One of your friends teasingly called out. "It's written all over your face!"

"Tch, You don't have to shout it to the whole world, we're right here." Vegito glowered. However, his face was still glowing in his awkward huff. It was then you pulled on his tucked arms to get him to lean over and placed a tender kiss on his cheek.

"It's about time you told me." You grinned. Correction, this was the most effective surprise.

[sanguineshade]

Just saw a BDSM educational post and it reminded me of how I had to bring up the topic to my mother the last time I was complaining about my ex.

Basically, what happened was, I have no good things to say about my ex. She's asked a couple times over the course of these months "what I learned from this relationship" (which was my first) and my only response was "I learned I deserved better and that I need to look for someone who will care for me how I care for them".

On our last talk, she proceeded to reply that this was "too narrowing", to which I gently explained it was not, and all the ways I cared for my ex that he didn't return even when I desperately, verbally asked. I ended this by concluding it was a matter of emotional maturity (not saying he wasn't mature, just that we were at different points, with different needs, and he could not meet mine), and that in hindsight, I should've not started that kind of relationship with him, since he never even filled out his document.

And then I had to explain the Document.

You see, I put it shortly to her, I made a document detailing the kind of things I was interested in, sexually. I described what places I felt I'd like to be touched, the things I'd like to do, the things I was open to try and the ones I would decline. I made it readable, with separated topics, and had a blank version for my then-partner to simply fill out. I knew he didn't like to write much so I made it easy to check options, with minimal writing. I gave that to him, and he never filled it up.

She was flabbergasted that I'd do such an un-romantic thing, describing it as "detached" and "like work" and "who would want to sign a document before having a relationship, where did you get this idea from?"

I paused for a moment. "Do you know BDSM?" She did not. I explained what the acronym meant. She was not happy as she asked what that had to do with anything, and where I heard of such things. "Well," I started from the beginning. "You know about 50 Shades of Grey, right?"

I explained to her how, in the boom of the book's popularity, the most important aspect every critic brought up was how the story was, in fact, not displaying BDSM as it advertised, but instead abuse. I proceeded to relate how that got me to read about BDSM, and how consent and guidelines and communication were such an important part of it, how "scenes" need a lot of prep work and how people deeply care for each other.

There was nothing quite like the joy I felt as her expression mellowed, especially as I reminded her that it was my first relationship, and I came up with the document as a guideline, as a safety, as a way of communicating my needs and to hear back from my partner. "But he didn't fill it" she replied, now fully supportive of the document. "Why did you still date him?"

It cut a little deeper than I expected, even now, reminiscing of those words. "It was my first time," I remember shrugging, "and I trusted him."

That was the end of it. I'd love to have a happy ending to add, about how I moved on and found a wonderful person who filled their Document and I am now in a loving relationship with, but there's none of that. Maybe I'll never find anyone who'd do this for me. Maybe my level of maturity doesn't have a match, and my needs are too much for any partner to deal with. Honestly, the only thing I need as I'm typing this is a job, so I could have at least a semblance of financial security. I couldn't care less about intimate relationships right now.

But, all that said, I really wanna thank the BDSM community for all their teachings on consent, and trust, and on how to make things good for all parties involved. I could see the understanding in my mom's eyes with my (honestly probably mediocre) explanations. Of course she knew the difference between a relationship where you feel safe and one where you're just going with the flow, but I could tell she became aware of it while I was talking. I'm sure we both came out of that conversation with a little more knowledge in our minds.

[lilakennedy]

→ RESHADE: MAY

Hi all! ♥

After this poll, it seems like you guys really wanted a stormy weather preset, so here it finally is!! :)

It's a bit later than I would've wanted but I am glad to finally share it! This preset uses SSR for its watery reflections - And while it is super cool, it is very angle specific! You might have to angle your camera in certain ways to get the effect to look the way you like :)

IN-GAME SCREENSHOTS:

I have decided to make multiple versions of my presets so that as many people as possible can enjoy them! If anyone uses this preset for photos/edit, please tag it as #lila presets so I can see the stuff you make with it!! :D

This preset comes in 3 versions: FULL, MEDIUM & LITE ! Visual reference of each version can be found further below ♥

Full - These versions will be the most beefy and pretty much only be meant for screenshots, but can be playable if tweaked or if your PC is strong enough. 99% chance of pretty bad framedrops tho…

Medium - These versions will be playable for most people but still have nearly all of the more complex effects. Just tweaked to be playable!

Lite - These versions should be playable for nearly everyone and still carry the same mood, colors and lighting, just without any of the super complex shaders!

( PS - If anyone has trouble with the Lite version, please don't hesitate to reach out to me and let me know how badly it causes you lag, I will try to make you a personalized version ♥ )

FULL: Color Edits, Fog, Clouds, makeshift Rain-Effect, Reflections/Wet Floors, Shading, Outline

MEDIUM: Color Edits, less Fog, Clouds, makeshift Rain-Effect, less Shading, Outline

LITE: Colors Edits, minimal Fog, less Clouds, Outline

♥ [PRESET DOWNLOAD] ♥

♥ FULL / MEDIUM / LITE ♥

This preset is depth-buffer HELL - Meaning certain effects (Fog & Reflections, most noticably) will randomly turn off sometimes! The busier your server is, the more often it will turn off due to network spikes! As always, this is normal and a part of reshade to avoid cheating :) If it doesn't turn re-enable on its own, toggling the effects should help reset it! Also, this preset was made using the most recent version of Reshade!

As usual, light flash warning due to the exact thing mentioned above! This is most often not harsh, but it can be jarring depending on your settings and the area you are in!! Please just be cautious if you are sensitive!

After the file has been downloaded, make sure to move it into the folder that holds the your SSO reshade installation, then you should be able to select it from the dropdown list in your Reshade menu in the game! Let me know if there are any issues with the download or the preset itself! :)

Have fun!! ♥

Next stop, Pastel World -

[multiverse-imagines]

Forbidden_Hanyou of ao3 asked!

A request for my friend as there is not enough Wolfwood content? I was thinking maybe something where Wolfwood is an angel (a fallen one maybe?), and the reader is a demon? The forbidden love type deal? Not sure how they met, but would be nice to read something with a little fluff and angst

A/N: it gives Good Omens vibes ✨ love me a forbidden love trope! Also, this has a TriMax spoiler, as it uses TriMax continuity! (Not that it changed too much???) Just a warning!

Til the End of The Universe, I Guess

They've been a pain in my ass since The Fall. Not the one to Gunsmoke, but that one too I guess. The Fall that I mean is my fall from grace. I remember it almost too well. I remember the burning. It didn't matter that I was falling at thrice the average velocity, I was on fire.

My wings. The beautiful pearly wings I had once taken so much pride in, ones which I often received compliments on, crackled, popped and sizzled, turning a deep charcoal, nearly Raven black. The heat was so unbearable that I nearly passed out four times. The action itself maybe took a minute, but felt like a thousand years. I don't remember the impact.

When I awoke, I was in the bed of a small cottage. At my bedside tending to my wounds, was a demon of all things. I hated myself for gawking at the beauty they held, despite once being my immortal enemy on principle.

To the trained eye, you could tell their skin was a redder shade just off of that of a humans, a set of horns, also unable to be witnessed by humans, protruded from the back of their head, curving up over their head. The horns stopped just above their eyebrows, threatening to stab their eyes if they didn't cut off the ends of their horns. The ends were flat, and unsharpened. I had met a few demons in my day, but none so undemon-looking, and none so beautiful.

"Oh, you're awake." They spoke gently, as not to spook me, "Can you move? Flip over and I'll get your back." They turned to me revealing a goopy mixture in a small wooden bowl.

"What is that?" My voice, now hoarse, growled at them.

"A mixture of Divine water and Lily of the Desert." It was then I noticed they were wearing thick arm and hand coverings. Such a holy mixture would surely burn my newly acquired caretaker, yet they were still willing to tend to my wounds.

"I got most of your visible form while you were asleep, but I was unable to start on your wings. Can you move well? Can you lay on your stomach?" They asked. Noting I could move with only a minimal ache in my newly human body, I flipped over into my stomach, propping myself up with the pillow that was once under my head.

"So… What's your name, Little Angel?" They asked as I felt the mixture being pressed to my butchered wings.

"I guess in the human's language it would be- tch! Ow!" I spat at a tender spot, "Nicholas D. Wolfwood."

"Quite the fancy name, Mr. Wolfwood." Their giggle sounded like the chimes of clashing metal before they spoke their own name to me.

"Ah, Sunspot." I mused.

"Excuse me?"

"Sunspot. I'm really bad with names, so I give nicknames to remember people by." A lie of course. It was because it would hurt more when they became a target in God's efforts to continue my suffering. If I don't invoke their real name, they can't be targeted.

-

After my wounds healed, Sunspot and I would pal around for a century or two. Thankfully my human vessel didn't age at all, meant to prolong my suffering, yet I was grateful to have such a healthy and nimble body. We would often move from place to place like the gypsies, and often pose as a couple.

We would spend our nights talking about our memories until I could no longer remain conscious. They would often give the food they posed to eat to those who could not afford food. Despite their human appearance, their visage was merely a façade. They could reveal their horns and other devilish traits at will. Meanwhile my wings could only be seen by those with gifted sight, like small children, or those bothered by spirits.

When I began to forget things. Little things, like that chateau we called home in Brazil, or the mountain we climbed in the Alps, I began to keep a diary of all I could remember. I filled book after book with whatever language I wanted, often mixing them together as I found a word that best fit every intention.

Good luck to anyone who finds it though. Unless they know every language from Spanish to Cuneiform, there's no telling how long it would take them to crack the inconsistent and nonexistent code. I fear that even I may forget how to read my own diaries someday.

-

We decided to leave Europe to check out the North American continent, particularly this new little colony of New England. We explored the lands that had yet to be bought by these colonizers, and interacted with the local animals and the native people.

One of the tribe's medicine men was very interested in my relationship with Sunspot. He saw me as a Raven Spirit, and Sunspot as one of the creation deities. I insisted that we weren't in a romantic relationship, nor anything to be worshiped, but he seemed to see us differently.

"Your fates are intertwined so strongly, It will never break." He also suggested that we leave this continent, because those settlers would be causing nothing but trouble, just like the Spaniards in the south. We heeded his words and went back to Brazil for quite some time.

It was the early 1930's when we found ourselves up in southern Canada. We had a little place near Niagara Falls, able to cross the border into the United States as we pleased.

-

I remember a conversation we once had in the early 1990's as our legs were tangled up on the couch one night while the TV played something to fill the void.

"So… I've known you for a while now, and I gotta ask. Why are you on Earth? Why haven't you gone back to hell, Sunspot?" I asked them. It was a question that had always been on my mind. They always seemed content by my side, and never left this realm, as far as I was ever aware.

"Ah… well, they kicked me out of hell. I… I tried to have people's judgements revisited after they had repented. But… I was told that once you're in hell, you have to stay there. You don't get to move on to reincarnation or get a second chance. "The God of second chances, huh? What a bogus line o' lingo." They said, obviously hanging around their human friends too much,

"I tried to help those seeking repentance no matter what layer I was moved to. Eventually, I was barred from my home. Even the hottest of places up here are too cold. I spent a week inside the magma of a volcano, and only ended up with igneous rocks formed in places I don't wanna talk about." They shook their head, hating the memory,

"That's why I always wear clothes as if I'm freezing, because I am." They said lifting the baggy sleeves of their thick sweater they wore.

"Ah, so that's why you insist on constantly sharing body heat." I smirked, I moved to lay on top of them, I heard them give a light giggle as they pet my wings with one hand, and my hair with the other.

-

On a vacation to Greece, where the Pantheon we hailed from feared to tread, we sat on a beach shoreline, as the moon began to cross in front of the sun.

"I've really enjoyed the time we've spent together." I found myself getting sentimental, "I think there's no one else I'd rather spend the rest of my damnation with."

"Aw, Nicky, you're just saying that." They rolled their eyes.

"No, I mean it." I said, cradling their face, and softly speaking their name. Something I never said, "I wanna spend the rest of eternity with you. I love you." My eyes begged for them to feel the same way. Sunspot could see it.

"I love you too, Nicholas. I always feel warmer by your side." They smiled, leaning in for our first kiss as the moon covered the sun, darkening the sky. The Gods could not see us here. This short moment of bliss was ours and ours alone.

-

We had spent nearly a thousand years together. It was in the 2300's when we boarded the seed ships. On the ship we slept, our pods next to each other. But it was only a matter of time before disaster struck.

The familiar heat awoke me as my pod was falling. My pod was near the flaming exterior of the ship. I don't remember this impact either.

-

I awoke in a hospital bed. But Sunspot was not at my side this time. A nurse who still looked as banged up as me tended to my wounds. I asked where Sunspot was, asking them by name. They hadn't seen or heard of them.

It was a lonely first few years. I stumbled from colony to colony trying to find Sunspot. There was no way they died in the crash. They couldn't have. They could stand such hellish temperatures, the crash would have been nothing to them…. But what about the impact?

In my adventures, I found a pair of young boys out on their own. Twins with blonde hair and blue eyes. We shared a meal, and then departed the next morning. Just a simple case of: same place, same time coincidence. How wrong I was.

The next time I saw one of them, the Little Needle Noggin was chained up to a post, passed out from blood loss from apparently having his arm cut off. I brought him to the floating ship I had seen. They could care for him better than I ever could. Besides, I had to keep searching. They graciously accepted him, still wondering how I had gotten up there. I was relieved my wings still worked.

Along the way, I picked up this large cross shaped gun I called The Punisher. As I looked for Sunspot, I made cash as a mercenary. My gun was powerful, and my determination to find my lover was stronger.

I thought I had seen the last of Needle Noggin when one day, I saw him all grown up. I had made the mistake of thinking he would stay on the ship. Here he was roaming around once again. His eyes were sad as he walked.

But.. wait… that had been nearly fifty years since I took him to the floating ship. How did he still appear to be in his twenties? There had been something off about him and his brother. Where was that little shit, anyways? I let him be for the time being.

-

I had been walking for a hundred iles before passing out in the desert. I felt myself get pulled into a bus, and given water.

"Oh wow! Thank the Lord, I'm saved!" I played up my preacher persona I'd acquired over the years. And there he was again. That Needle Noggin boy, still a young man, yet another fifty years later he had to be well into his hundred and thirties by now. Just what was he?

"So, what's your name, stranger?" He asked.

"The name's Nicholas D Wolfwood! Preacher, Undertaker, at your service!" I smiled. His friends who sat next to him outed the Needle Noggin as Vash the Stampede. Hm, who would have thought? I made some jokes about taking the money for myself, but they had no merit to them.

-

I traveled with Vash for a while. He allowed me to take the time to see the beauty in this world, and the charm of its people I had been ignoring for the past hundred and thirty years.

-

A year passed by, and Vash and I sat in his room, drinks in hand. I had just found out he was a plant from an incident the day prior.

"I knew you weren't human. I just didn't know how." I said, taking a drink.

"And that goes the same for you, Wolfwood. I remember you. That night, that Knives and I had dinner with you. I still remember that."

"I'm much older than you, Needle Noggin. You don't wanna know what I am or what I'm doing here."

"That's not really fair, now is it?" Vash knocked back another shot. I rolled my eyes and told him. My fall, Sunspot, living on earth, falling to No Man's Land, and my eternal search for them.

"Don't tell anyone. I don't deserve to be worshiped, or adored as an Angel. I'm just as much a sinner as the rest of humanity is."

"You got to live on Earth though… that must have been super cool…" Vash slurred, lying his head on the table. He passed out shortly after, probably dreaming about what I told him. I took the last shot of the bottle we had left, and went to bed.

-

In a little town, we walked down the street, chatting away, when a person caught my eye. Someone who looked human to all of those around them, but I knew. I could see the little horns that curved over their head.

"Sunspot!" I yelled louder than anything I had ever yelled before, running to them. Their face turned to shock, a wide smile crept across their face that mirrored mine.

"Nicholas!" They ran to me, jumped into my arms, and I twirled them before setting them down again, tears falling down my face.

"Oh my God I thought I'd never find you!" I hugged them again to make sure this was real. They were really here, in my arms.

"I'm sorry that I ever stopped. I'm so sorry. I just wanted to feel like I had a home again."

"No, you're okay, you're here now. I didn't want to think you had died. I knew it couldn't be possible." I pressed many sultry kisses to their lips, whispering their name to them between each kiss, as I had longed to do for so long.

We must have looked like a mess in the streets, crying, and kissing as if we hadn't seen each other in over a century. But it was true. A hundred and thirty years apart felt worse than my burning wings, or any gunshot wound I had ever received.

We eventually regained ourselves, and made our way to their house, where they lived alone. They had never married, and spent their time painting places we had been to in our time together to cope. They had many paintings they often gave to friends, or to museums. They used a psuedo name of course.

"So, is this where we part, Wolfwood?" Vash asked, after he'd finished looking at all of the paintings.

"I'm not sure yet. I'd go anywhere, as long as Sunspot is there." I still held their hand. They smiled up to me, then to their paintings.

"I've been cooped up in this house for too long. I'm ready for an adventure. Why don't we travel for a bit, then we can return here so you can finally rest?" Sunspot gave a radiant smile, brighter than any sun in the galaxy.

"I'd be honored to have your help. Vash and I are cleaning up his own family life. We can teach his bratty older brother a lesson in what it truly means to fall from grace." I stroked their cheek, "You can finally rehabilitate the biggest sinner on all of Gunsmoke…"

"But you don't need rehabilitation, Belovéd." They gave a snarky smile.

"Holy Hell, I've missed you." I have a tired smile, absolutely flabbergasted at their audacity.

[fallencrowns]

@protectxthem | crowley

That sound was unmistakable. Flutter of wings, a rather ANNOYING presence behind him. Behind shaded glasses, Crowley rolled his serpentine eyes. They were quite fond of leaving heavenly relationships where the demon had left them: BURNING in a pool of sulfur right alongside their angelic name. There was little love lost on both sides, albeit perhaps a modicum of BITTERNESS. Either way, Crowley was more than content to live the rest of their days on Earth, having developed some sort of fondness for it. Clearly that wasn't meant to be considering here they were, having their morning drink of whiskey quite annoyingly INTERRUPTED.

❝ If you're here to smite, ❞ they started, pausing only to take a drink; they were going to need as much as they could get to get through this conversation, ❝ Then I'm going to have to say no on any sort of fighting. ❞ The redheaded demon paused, turning slightly to actually face the angel they had picked up on. Some days, they could quite contently be minding their OWN business with minimal chaos and that could still ruffle the pearly white feathers of some angels. Compared to most other demons, Crowley liked to think they were quite literally the lesser of evils.

At least they weren't trying to bring on literal APOCALYPSES.

❝ If you're here for anything else—— the answer is still NO. I think I've met my quota this century for dealing with angels. Which is NONE, by the way. ❞ Just stay out of whatever heavenly DISASTER was upon them this time.

[mapsofnonexistentplaces]

also since i wanna rewrite it to fit with a redone worldbuilding tidbit heres like. some slightly older lore from when i wrote about the unique outfits and motifs everyone from train has. putting it under the cut cause its long

in general the system of ‘fast fashion’ has kind of collapsed and instead there’s a huge focus on durable/magically enhanced materials and also generally, having knowledge of sewing and other misc haberdashery type shit. i’d compare the importance and prevalence of it to a skill like cooking i suppose? i imagine there’s just a lot of redistribution of old fabrics with weird patterns and whatnot, which people often just integrate into existing clothes of theirs. getting into this more extensively in a second but on the flipside there’s also a lot more revere toward tailors and anyone who produces custom outfits on demand, so people who aren’t skilled with customising their own clothes often seek out this manner of purchase… there are also some small stores that sell ‘pre-made’ items of clothing with precise patterns and motifs, though these are usually seen as ‘tacky’.

another thing is like. what i’ll call the habit of characters just wearing the same outfit seemingly ‘all the time’ — which at first was kind of just meant to be a play on the weird time dilation presented on the train, but i’ve taken it as a canonical in-universe thing. that is to say i imagine everyone has like a ‘main costume’ they wear in their day-to-day life, and technically speaking i imagine it involves owning multiple copies of the same outfit lol. but it’s basically someone’s most important, most presentable and most epitomic outfit that’s supposed to put on display their chosen motifs

to properly focus on the idea of ‘motifs’, they are also an acknowledged construct with a lot of cultural importance! motifs are basically ‘signatures’ a person has to identify them and set them apart from others, with most people having two. motifs can basically be anything from plants to animals to patterns to like. really obscure iconography like soundwave diagrams to alchemical symbols and whatever. motifs are often combined with a ‘skeleton’ of an outfit — often part of a job ‘uniform’, such as a waiter’s suit or boilersuit, though globally most workplaces keep dress codes lenient and open to customisation. this both further adds ‘panache’ and ‘depth’ to a daily outfit and often gives a person a good starting point for their daily outfit. also perhaps it sounds a bit too dramatic but i’ve been loosely rattling around the idea of calling daily outfits ‘paradigms’ and will continue to refer to them as such because it’s a shorter word lol.

anyway another important aspect of paradigms, and clothing in general, are colors! due to the whole scrapbook nature of fashion in the 22nd century, it is indeed more about loose color groups than like precise hex codes and shades, but people often associate themselves with one or two particular colors and try to incorporate them into many outfits. though not as important as motifs, with some people forgoing strict color ‘loyalty’ altogether, many do appreciate consistency!

motifs have a huge social aspect to them. in general. like quite loosely there’s the attitude i implied about certain motifs being seen as ‘generic’ and hence, a signal of unoriginality. for example anyone with a stars motif or a leafs motif, without any further specification or interesting secondary motif, is often seen as extremely boring! prime example of this is lusine, who’s clothing style is quite generic and involves a lot of ‘ready made’ clothing… it itself was often too preoccupied with programming to care much for its appearance, thus the very general motif — literally wearing ‘stuff you’d find in a store.’ conversely valerie has a very simplistic but unified paradigm, intentionally playing on first-view assumed minimalism — although her pants have very meticulous heart inscriptions at the bottom, which is kind of her just flexing her sewing ability, and the ribbon in her hat has a wire in it twisted to maintain a heart silhouette, etc though it isn’t as gaudy and evident as someone like marjolaine or olzhas’, it quietly displays a lot of ‘tricks’ that signify her prowess at design. which is deemed very very cool. to go over the aforementioned ‘gaudy’ two: marjolaine’s outfit has a lot of subtle symbolism such as the necklace, use of gold and boot patterning, alongside subtle design choices like the dna belt embroidery, the carved clover pattern on the monocle, and the general clover pastiche in the neck/sleeve/skirt frills, but it’s like such an involved outfit that it basically says “oh you’re very rich and you paid a tailor to make all this for you.” she didn’t literally, having summoned it via object-pullers, but it still has very strong connotations to wealth and ‘showing off’ that anyone could easily detect lol. like it seems too busy and ‘pre-made’, so to speak. conversely olzhas has a very focused pattern on the apron, seen as a rich person thing again, but it’s balanced by the cool factor of balancing 4 separate colors on a paradigm and having them look nice… alongside this there’s a lot of subtlety in the harlequin pattern being repurposed as ‘diamonds’ repeatedly and the harlequin costume-based shoes, alongside things like eir shades and dress hem harkening to the blockiness of brutalism, which is just seen as good use of composition. in short e has some touches of the same ‘trying too hard’ habit that marjolaine has, but it’s offset by seen ‘tastefulness’ and personal effort in coordination.

alongside having some reputational significance, motifs are also often important when it comes to romantic relationships! upon getting engaged or married, people will often start to ‘share’ their motifs in certain ways. this can be generally done by just exchanging clothes or sewing things onto paradigm components… but a more subtle and momentous marker comes in the form of ‘marriage tokens’ — iterating on the idea of wedding rings, but with the scope growing to ANY kind of ornate accessory worn by someone that is decorated with their partner’s motif. people often go all out and splurge on customised items, and as opposed to things like engagement rings, a couple will decide on matching items together AFTER a proposal has already been made. it’s often common to get ornate rings with carvings of motifs (as is the case for beatrix and marjolaine; marjolaine owning a ring with a stylised star, beatrix with a ladybug one) or earrings with motif shapes (eventually the case for olzhas and isel — olja wearing a sun-shaped earring on one ear, and isel wearing a diamond-shaped earring on the opposing one) to more involved things like pins/badges, ribbons, etc. honestly there’s less strain about ever losing marriage tokens because often, people will choose to ‘renew’ them anyway to keep up with paradigm changes over the years.

thiiis brings me to a digression which is that motifs can be freely changed! of course! and there are three major causes for it; either it’s teenagers who are already given this ‘grace period’ to experiment with motifs so it’s not a big deal; or it’s a couple who chooses to ‘swap’ motifs entirely, kind of seen as an insanely romantic gesture often used as a trope in fiction; or it’s a personal change often done after a grand event in one’s life, seen as a quite serious and gravitous ordeal. i have two examples for the lattermost one; isel abandoning his old marigold motif in exchange for the bobolink one, to mark his acceptance of his life on the fornax train; and peixin modifying its general digital audiovisual motif into the older historical devices one to signify its connection to fornax and its visions, and its feelings of time displacement as a result.

to get back to paradigm changes upon marriage, i’m bringing back the thing about colors! these are also often incorporated into outfits upon a union, whether with someone just wearing clothes containing the other’s main colors — such as cas and lanuola, with cas’ makeup and boots utilising lanuola’s blue (if you’re wondering, cas’ presence in lanuola’s outfit actually presents itself as a restructure mostly related to shape instead of color lol. she did not wear that multilayered cape beforehand and it intentionally mirrors cas’ dress) — or people ‘tinting’ their main colors with their partner’s. the latter is extremely evident with olzhas, whose main color used to be blue, though e changed it to eir current purple by attempting to inch it towards isel’s marigold yellow! (and again for contrast, isel later just ‘stole’ the purple from olzhas wholesale as his secondary color, and later transformed it into his classic pink by he himself attempting to inch it to freya’s red lol. which is to restate that partners do not necessarily mirror each other’s motif/color incorporations via the same method, and also to state that motif/color matching is NOT necessarily romantic, and i guess more precisely a simple signifier of a deep emotional connection, which can indeed be platonic. also note that isel technically stole a color that had a basis in his own outfit, which comes across as mildly egotistical to people who are very precise about color sharing lol!)

in those examples also it’s important to state that both pairs actually changed their outfits before getting properly engaged, which is seen as kind of immature and overzealous — to a degree there’s this attitude about ‘being responsible’ for your motif and, if you’re old enough, not changing it arbitrarily for anyone and only doing so for a serious commitment lest you remove the ‘honor’ from the act… and perhaps there was too much eagerness involved, since both pairs literally knew one another for no more than a month before they decided to be all involved about it lol but it’s fiiiine.

conversely another interesting example comes in the form of beatrix and marjolaine, who kind of convey a disjointed sharing of color? marjolaine’s main colors used to be, simply, red and green though the red became relegated to a tertiary/accent color in the wake of incorporating yellow, completely just taken from beatrix. conversely beatrix used to have a LOT of red on his outfit, which he quickly kind of ‘scrubbed’ by the time he boarded the train — kind of adding insult to injury, regarding the whole ‘entering the train just to divorce my terrible wife’ thing… he incorporates it into his skirt again by the time dalisay arrives to the train but it’s much more barren compared to the frequency of it prior, kind of commenting on the unbalanced nature of their relationship… marjolaine’s fully preserved beatrix’s color and still has it overtake her former colors, kind of as a ‘show’ of dedication, but beatrix doesn’t buy it and keeps her own incorporation of marjolaine’s color kind of degraded, more or less showing he’s visibly reluctant about it… frown

children have a ‘bridge’ motif between their parents motifs (never finished elaborating on this lol)

[ratssmpzine]

Here are our Artist Guidelines for digital and traditional art submissions!

Plain text version below the cut!

Artist Guidelines

Our pages will be A4 pages at 300 dpi and artists will have the option to decide to use either a vertical A4 page at 2480 dpi [width] x 3508 dpi [height] or a double page spread at 4960 dpi [width] x 3508 dpi [height] as the canvas size for their work. Smaller canvases are limited to collaborative pieces.

Both digital and traditional artwork are permitted within the zine so long as you are able to provide a high quality scan or image of your work that meets the size requirements of the page type you’ve chosen.

Pieces should have a .25 inch white border around the edges of the work. There will be pre-prepared .psd files of both the vertical A4 page canvas and the double page spread canvas with the border if you would like to use them rather than adding the border yourself, but you won’t be required to if you would prefer to do it on your own. If you are a traditional artist who would not be able to add the border in themself, we mods can add it for you, however we may request you submit earlier so that we can work with you in case the border creates any issues with your piece.

As well, when the zine is assembled, we will be adding page number of your piece in a 0.5 inch by 0.5 inch white square (including the border) in either the bottom left or right corner of the page depending on where in the zine it ends up. You do not have to worry about adding this square or the page numbers, but while working you should try and make sure that there’s nothing important in those spaces that could end up getting covered when we assemble.

Works must be a neat, completed piece, however that doesn’t mean it need to be fully colored or rendered. Detailed ink lines, flat colors, watercolor-style, grayscale works, fully rendered/painted works, etc. are all options for what a piece could look like so long as it looks intentional. Illustrations in books have a ton of variety, so we won’t be asking that everyone make fully colored and shaded artwork if they want to experiment in other styles.

Works should fill most if not all of the space on your canvas and should depict either a scene or something equivalent. Outside of collaborative pieces with writers, every work should have at least some minimal background.

While this zine is themed after a storybook, we won’t be judging artists based on if we think their artstyle fits any particular “aesthetic” . As I said before, art in books has a ton of variety and this is meant to be an anthology where the work of multiple different artists and writers are collected! While the discord may have some links to different books and artists to serve as potential inspiration for folks that want it, your art and art style don’t have to look a certain way to be included in the zine! 

In a similar vein, so long as the rats are recognizable to their design, proportional to their environment, and have their ears, tails, and fur, they can be as animalistic or anthropomorphized as you’d like! Outside of remaining loyal canon designs, there are no guidelines on how you draw the characters.

[automotive-75]

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The Drop Stop isn’t just a convenience; it’s become an essential part of my daily commute. It’s remarkable how such a simple solution can make such a significant difference. I no longer dread the possibility of items slipping through the gap, thanks to the reliability and effectiveness of the Drop Stop Car Seat Gap Filler. It’s really a game-changer, and I can’t imagine driving without it.

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[thekenikaridevblog]

uhh kenikari dev fun facts because why not

Under spoilers bc this thing is long with tons of images and text, but it doesn’t spoil any future game events dont worry

this was the first ever sprite I did for the game! I ended up discarding it bc it was more like a joke to see how the style would work and all. I hadn’t settled on a color for the tongue yet and I already had half of what would become the hair shading style

Originally I wanted to made the sprites more simplistic so to speak by adding next to no shading, because I wanted to draw them in far more different poses n stuff. In the end i realised that you would literally be looking at these for 90% of the game so they should probably be nicer and have actual shading

I made an alteration lol

Here’s the first ever shaded sprite, with Chuyo. The shaded hair had settled in, though I would end up giving him a different symbol thingie. I still followed the rule of somewhat minimal shading, but as my style developed I put it more details in the sahding and cloth folds. A fun fact about him is that I made him and the sprite and I put a name to the sprite and then i put it in my pc folders

And then I couldn’t find this sprite but it was okay bc his wheelchair design had changed and my style had too so I redid him completely. and gave him a nose lol. and then when it was time to present him in the game i DEADASS FORGOT I GAVE HIM A NAME. SO I MADE ANOTHER ONE.

his og name was Misuke and that’s the name of this file lol

A forgotten sprite for Lare’s presentation that i didnt end up using bc it kinda looked like an ahegao. if we push that aside you can compare it to the sprites that do appear in the game and see how I altered them later down the line to give her slightly more complex and accurate shading to the game’s current style. I’d say the biggest difference is the whole collar thingie. Originally the dress and shirt were meant to end like. the same way. but then i dont know how i came up with it but i started making the dress more square-y and it differentiated itself more from the shirt, so i changed the sprites to reflect that specifically

a lil drawing I made in 2019 with a laptop trackpad of Mako. I made another one before that and it was the first ever drawing of her, but I can’t find it so I can’t put it here

Originally Mako was meant to have more bruises and bandages but i ended up simplifying it so it could be easier to animate her and draw her from afar. She was the most complex design I’d made back then and I still kinda think she is, topped with other characters like Mero (he doesnt appear in the game its a sepparate mf)

the og Lare sprites that i made before i figured out how RPGmaker XP worked. she hasnt changed much, just removed the background and moved them around so that the walking cycle worked properly

in one of the incredibly early builds of the game that I only showed to my parents to test, I made some quick sprites of myself to announce that the demo had come to an end. These were rushed as hell and have a lot of imperfections and color spills, and I only made like 4. They have been removed from the files bc i wouldn’t use them again

the ending screen actually started as a quick doodle in my notebook. I liked it so much that I took a picture of it and digitalised it, and then I decided to use it in the actual game. I would show the original drawing, since i do actually have it, but it’s spoilers. idk maybe ill show it when the part it spoils comes out

This actually got me thinking that it wouldnt be fair if only alex were the one to say goodbye, since he’s not even the damn protag, so I’ve started to form ideas of end screens with the rest of the cast. Maybe the full chapter will have a different end screen, maybe it won’t. It depends if I do actually feel like doing it mid development bc i got bored with other stuff

That’s all, goodbye! :3

[ladywynne]

Gan Eden

************************************************

The Moon Boys enter eternity at a ripe old age, and it isn't the Field of Reeds

Notes: Written for Flash Fiction Friday prompt An Eternal Summer.

This is an exploration of the afterlife. I tried to be as respectful as possible of Jewish beliefs and I am sorry for any mistakes, but this isn't meant to be a re-creation of true beliefs. Just a fictionalized journey. It necessarily draws from my imagination and conceptual understanding as the author. I am not Jewish.

Also I am in no way minimizing Steven or Jake's identities as real, separate people. I have wondered about if the splitting of their personality also split their soul. This is a result of that thought process, which is ongoing for me.

I tried to give them happiness. I hope you enjoy.

CW: A short depiction of a peaceful death. Skip the first section if you don't want to read it.

Words: 976

*************************************************

How do you comprehend the World to Come?

It was different this time…peaceful. They were holding Layla’s hand, and as their vision narrowed all they could see was her beautiful, lined, white-haloed face. 

When they were younger there was often only darkness before Khonshu thrust them painfully back into the body. Now there was light. It was white and pure. They rose, untethered, and the light encompassed them. 

***** 

Jake came to awareness on a shore. It was warm and bright though no sun was evident to hurt his eyes. He felt a gentle breeze in his curls and soft sand beneath his bare feet. And amazingly – the sea before him was crystal clear, so transparent he could see each colorful little fish as it swam. He felt only peace as he turned in a slow circle, taking in the summer around him. Past the shore was green as far as the eye could see. Beautiful paths lined with flowers of every shade meandered through lush vegetation, and in the far distance was a shining city. Best of all, standing apart from each other, a little distance down the shore were Marc and Steven. Their eyes met his and he walked to meet them.  

Marc and Steven were beautiful, their bodies hail and unblemished by scars, once again young men in their prime. Their faces were wonderful to see. They were completely unburdened. It was most obvious in Marc. There were no frown lines, no creased brow, and no sign of the wariness he had worn all his life. Jake almost didn’t recognize him. It was the most breathtaking thing Jake had ever seen and all he’d ever wanted. Not even Steven, awed by one of his passions, had ever conveyed such radiance in life. It made Jake complete to see it, and he felt cracks in his heart seal themselves.  

The three of them took each other in without speaking. Then, nearly as one, they grinned. Jake opened his arms to them, and they came, laughing and squeezing in an exuberant embrace. 

They stepped apart at the sound of someone nearby. Still smiling, they turned toward the newcomer. 

“Roro?” Marc choked out. 

“Hi,” their brother gave a little wave, very reminiscent of Steven. He was smiling too. He was a young man like them with the same brown hair, but straighter than theirs. Jake knew him, without a doubt, even though they never met in life. 

“Roro!” Marc said again, rushing forward to wrap Randall in a hug. Randall returned it, rocking back and forth with Marc and continuing to smile.  

“I’ve missed you,” Jake could barely make out Marc’s words, spoken into Randall’s neck. “So much.” 

Jake could see him squeeze Marc a bit tighter. “You were a great big brother, Marc. I never left you.”  

Marc made a little noise and held on a few moments longer before stepping back. Randall looked at Steven and Jake then. He wrapped them in a hug next, one on each side. “Thank you,” he whispered fiercely. “Thank you for taking care of him.” 

“It was our pleasure,” Steven said sincerely.  

When they separated Randall indicated the city in the distance. Looking more closely Jake saw that it was opalescent and set amongst the swaying green trees and grass-covered hills of summer. “There is more to see,” he said, “more people waiting for you. Gena, Jean-Paul, and abuela to name a few. But there are also hundreds that you helped during their lives. People who were able to pass on goodness only because of what you did. I want you to know that. Each of you made a difference. I’m so proud of you.” 

Jake didn’t know what to say to that, and he guessed the others didn’t either, but he felt grateful to have heard it.  

Randall went on, “Before that I have something to offer.” 

“What is it?” he asked, wondering what more there could be. 

“Healing,” Randall said simply. “You were born one soul. That ‘something missing’ you’ve felt? That was each other. You can be one soul again, if you choose. It won’t be like you were in life. It will be like you were before.” 

They looked at each other. Jake’s heart swelled just seeing their luminous faces. He knew his answer. He never wanted to be apart from them. Despite his peace and happiness in this moment, despite their nearness, he wished he could be still closer to them. Complete.  

Marc exchanged a nod with him. 

Steven was standing stock-still. He had known an individual adult life. Jake thought he may want that again, so he waited patiently. Finally, Steven blinked, then stepped forward and took one of their hands in each of his, “Let’s do it lads.” 

They smiled at each other again. Jake thought he had already smiled more than in the entirety of his life. Randall smiled too.  

Jake felt himself rising into the air and grabbed for Marc with his free hand. They rose a little way, the circle the three of them made spinning smoothly, but beginning to go a bit faster as they went. A light appeared in the center of their ring, just as pure and perfect as the one that led them here. As Jake watched, it began to grow. He held on to the others tighter. He had to… he wanted to tell them one more time, even if they already knew, would know in even more perfect clarity in just a moment, and even if the past seemed distant and extraneous now that they were here. “Marc. Steven.” He rushed to say it. “I love you.” 

Their faces shone like miniature stars as they looked at him, and when they merged the very last remnant of imperfection, the last whisper of fear or loneliness, was subsumed forever in unity.