#hear me out. we are humans and we make art of things inside of which we choreograph group dance numbers because it’s fun and we like it

[gigabyte-flare]

Insatiable (Part 2)

Part 1

Summary: Your collages should have listened to you.

Word Count: 2k

Pairing: yandere plagas!Leon Kennedy x fem!reader (afab)

Disclaimer: This story is a work of fiction. Actions depicted in this story are not condoned in real life. You are responsible for your own content consumption. If any of the following warnings trigger you, please read at your own risk. Minors do not interact, this story is 18+ only.

Warnings: Extreme violence and gore, biting, dubcon, forced breeding, gross las plagas-y things, death, mentions of un-aliving. DEAD DOVE: DO NOT EAT.

A/N: Huge shout out to @chanif-art who's artwork continues to inspire me and this story. I am completely blown away with how well part 1 was received. Thank you to everyone who's liked, reblogged, commented and even simply read it. I didn't do a tag list for this one because I think well over 50 people asked and I completely lost track. Anyway, I hope this meets your expectations! I was listening to Little Girl Gone while writing this... for some reason it just fits plagas!Leon.

“Honey, I’ve changed so much since I last saw ya.”

You open your eyes, finding yourself inside Leon’s cell. You dart your head around, looking frantically when you realize you’re chained to the chair, the same chair Leon had previously been chained to. You hear Leon chuckle, a low chilling sound as he walks up from behind you, taking long, slow strides. He turns to face you, you notice the black veins sprawling his body have gotten darker, his eyes more red. He grins as he kneels down to be at eye level with you, his four canine teeth noticeably sharp. He runs his tongue along his teeth.

“There you are, sweetheart. I didn’t think you’d wake up,” Leon says with a purr. 

Your eyes are wide, taking labored deep breaths before you attempt to struggle. Leon laughs, shaking his head.

“That won’t do you any good I’m afraid, but don’t worry, I’ll get you out of those chains so we can have some play time.”

Leon stands back up, walking back behind you. You hear him break the chains apart with his bare hands. You waste no time bolting out of the chair and to the door. No matter how much you pull, the door won’t budge. You turn around to find Leon standing directly behind you. He grabs you by the waist pulling you to him. You flail your arms at him, trying to fight him off. Out of the corner of your eye you see Bryan on the other side of the clear panel holding a clipboard, taking notes.

“Bryan?! Get me out of here! I’m trapped in here with him, please! He’s going to hurt me!”

Bryan lifts his head, shaking it, “the data you’ll provide from this is too valuable to pass up I’m afraid. We need to know if he’s capable of procreating with a un-infected human and what the offspring will look like.”

“WHAT?!” you scream, “Bryan have you lost your mind?!”

Completely ignoring your pleas, Bryan continues, “remember what we agreed on, Leon. You are not to infect her with the plaga until she gives birth. After that, you can do with her as you please.”

“I remember the agreement, you fucking prick,” Leon growls next to your ear before he licks your earlobe. 

“NO I DID NOT AGREE TO THIS BRYAN, YOU LET ME OUT OF HERE RIGHT NOW!” you continue to scream as you try to fight Leon off.

Leon, however, is much more powerful than you; he bites into your shoulder and makes short work of pinning you to the floor, his hands gripping your jeans and ripping them off you, leaving you with your pair of lace panties. You attempt to crawl across the floor towards Bryan, but Leon drags you back by your hips. Leon flips you over to face him, caging you with his body. He simply stares down at you, his smile wide. You watch as drool drips from his face onto your shirt, which he promptly rips apart to reveal your matching bra to him.

“Aren’t you just delicious to look at?” Leon says, licking his lips before locking his lips onto yours in a hungry kiss. 

To your horror, you’re returning his kiss, his hands grasping to both of your breasts. He pulls away after a couple minutes, sitting on his haunches as he pushes your legs apart, noting the dark spot that is now on your panties.

“Oh? You don’t want this? Then tell me why you’re so fucking wet, sweetheart?”

Leaning forward, he grabs your panties with his teeth, dragging them off you before tossing them aside. He then begins undoing the belt on his pants; before long he is pulling his hardening cock from his pants. He wastes no time climbing back on top of you, pushing himself inside you balls deep with ease. 

When the head of his cock kisses your cervix, your eyes roll into the back of your head as you let out a soft moan. Leon growls, thrusting into you with an insatiable ferocity, causing you to grip his arms, scratching into them with your nails. You felt like he was fucking you for an eternity when he let’s out another growl, pressing into you as deep as he could possibly go. You feel your cunt clamp around his cock, milking his cum into your body.

Leon stares back down at you, his eyes and grin wide as he laughs maniacally.

You wake up screaming, covered in sweat and tears streaming down your face. You take deep breaths, laying your hand on your chest to ground yourself.

It was just a nightmare.

Once you get yourself calm, you climb out of bed and go into the kitchen of your apartment, making yourself coffee and some toast for breakfast. Afterwards, you get ready for work and head out the door. On your way, you decide to stop at the pharmacy. Walking the aisles, you find the feminine hygiene products, grabbing an ovulation test off the shelf and paying for it. Once you get to HQ, you trap yourself into one of the bathroom stalls, taking the test and waiting for the results. You watch in horror as a little smiley face shows up on the little screen, confirming your hypothesis.

You collect yourself before briskly walking into Bryan’s office. You don’t knock, you simply push the door open aggressively, startling both Bryan and the researcher he’s meeting with, you think his name is Pierce.

“I am not going back down there, Bryan,” you say sternly. 

Pierce shifts uncomfortably in his seat before standing up to leave, “I’ll go check on the camera feed downstairs.”

You and Bryan stare at each other as the door swings shut. Bryan rubs his eyes.

“Not this again, I’m sorry but I need you to go down there, you’re still the only one Leon talks to. Is this about what happened yesterday? I assure you, we have taken extra precautions to ensure that doesn’t happen again.”

You stomp up to Bryan’s desk, slamming the positive ovulation test onto the desk. Bryan looks down at the test before looking at you and raising an eyebrow.

“The fuck is this?” he asks.

“I’m ovulating, this is why Leon keeps saying I smell good and wants to practically throw himself on me whenever I’m down there.”

“That’s absurd.”

“Can you think of a logical explanation, then? I’m all ears.”

“This is not up for debate, you are going to continue working with Leon; that’s an order!”

Suddenly, the lights go dim before red emergency lights come on followed by a loud, screeching alarm.

“What the hell?!” Bryan exclaims, looking around confused.

You’ve never heard this alarm during your entire time at D.S.O., you rack your brain around what it could mean when suddenly, Pierce bursts into the office.

“Pierce! What the hell is going on out there?!” Bryan asks.

“Kennedy’s escaped, sir!”

Leon opens his eyes and lifts his head, looking around his cell. Deep down he was seething in rage; he had gotten so close to getting out of this chair and having his way with you. Now, his chair had reinforced steel plating welded to it and they strapped a god damn muzzle onto his face. He could see he now had two men with guns guarding the door at all times. 

Fucking beautiful.

He tested the chains again, but found they had been tightened recently, angering him even more. He couldn’t stop thinking about you and hoped he would see you today. He hated the thought of you seeing him like this, but he desperately wanted to see you and inhale your sweet, sweet scent.

Out of nowhere, an excruciating pain jolts down Leon’s spine, causing him to cry out and writhe in his chair. His four canine teeth grow sharper, his fingers turning black and now taking on a claw-like appearance and a new, sharp appendage was peaking out of his lower back. The guards turned around to look at Leon. They immediately unlock the door and come into this cell to check on him. Leon stops writhing, slumping over in his chair, pretending to be passed out. One guard stays by the door, facing away from them while the other comes over to check on Leon, checking the chains to make sure they’re in place.

Unbeknownst to the guard closest to Leon, Leon’s new tail was extending from his back, coming around from behind the guard. It was very similar to a scorpion’s tail, but instead of a barb on the end, it looked like a blade. Within an instant, Leon’s tail wraps around the guard’s neck, snapping it instantly as four claw-like appendages burst from Leon’s back, breaking the chains holding his arms in place. Hearing the other guard fall to the floor the other guard turns around only to be faced with Leon, who is now up out of his chair and walking towards him, ripping the muzzle off his face, flashing a maniacal grin at the guard. The guard goes to shoot Leon but Leon is much faster, his tail whipping forward and impaling the man in the chest before flinging him aside. 

Leon strides out of his cell, looking down the hallway to see a pair of researchers coming down the hallway. Upon seeing Leon out of his cell, they start shouting at each other and turn to run in the opposite direction. Leon smiles, breaking into a sprint. He leaps, pinning one researcher to the ground with his body while his tail grabs the other by the waist, lifting him into the air.

“Where is she?!” Leon asks with a growl to the researcher he has pinned to the floor.

“Where’s who?!” the researcher stutters.

“Don’t play dumb with me! Where is she?!”

“Up-Upstairs! In Br-Bryan’s office!”

Leon’s mouth clamps down onto the researcher's neck, ripping out his throat as his tail squeezes the other until his spine snaps, falling to the floor as Leon lets him go. At that moment, all the lights dim before red emergency lights come on. Leon breaks back into a sprint to the elevator however, it was not working no matter how many buttons he pushed. He uses his tale to rip a hole into the ceiling, leaping up into it and climbing the elevator shaft. 

Once he reaches the top, he pries the elevator door open, swinging down, landing gracefully in the hallway. People are scrambling to get away from him, bumping and tripping over each other to run down the hallway. Leon’s red eyes scan the area, however, he sees no sign of you. More guards with guns show up, firing at him. His tale whips forward, deflecting their bullets with ease as he lunges forward. He impales one operative with his tail while his hand thrusts through the chest of another, gripping the man’s still beating heart in his claws before crushing it.

“Take her and get out of here!” he hears a man yell from down the hallway.

Leon’s attention is immediately drawn to the man that yelled, immediately recognizing him as Bryan. At one time, he liked the man, a brilliant scientist. Too bad he has to die. Leon watches as Bryan pulls out a pistol, firing shots at him. Again. Leon’s tail and back claws deflect the shots as he stands face to face with Bryan, his tail whipping around and decapitating the man with ease. He brings his tail’s blade to his lips, licking off the blood as he proceeds to walk down the hallway towards the entrance of HQ. 

A researcher is leading you out the front door, shoving you through the door with his back turned to Leon. He’s about to head out himself before Leon’s tail goes straight through his chest. Leon hears the man’s death gurgles as he flings him behind him, his body falling about 20 feet away with a loud thud. 

And there you are, cowering in the entry vestibule, your eyes locked on him, looking up and down his body. Leon straightens out his posture in hopes of making himself alluring to you, his tail whipping back and forth while his back claws flex. 

“Do you actually think you can escape me?” Leon coos, watching as you press your back as hard as you can into the glass doors as he comes closer.

“You never will, my love.” he continues with a grin, licking his sharp canines.

You stumble out of the door, bolting into the street and running as fast as you can to your car.

“I will find you.”

Part 3

[inkskinned]

something that stuck with me once, way back in middle school when i was still learning how to write - my teacher said "writing shock and tragedy is easy, it's humor that's the hardest."

i have been up and down the halls of academia. i have the fancy degree and the experience in publishing. i think i paved most of my own road with the little bricks of sorrow i had stored inside of me. i know i did it mostly with works that are blisteringly lonely. i know why we write like that. it's lifesaving.

but yeah, i mean. i also know how much people think that "sad" media is the same thing as "good" media. our human desire to connect is so hard-pressed that we immediately latch onto any broken themes. the bullied kids and the tales of inspiration. people keep saying things like "glass onion" and "everything everywhere" weren't actually good. because, you know, they're. happy. or happy-ish. happy enough. and we only value art if it's grimdark-adjacent.

do you know - people still consistently whine at me that my writing would be so good if i just capitalized things. i used to flinch. i get kind of a weird, vindictive little rush these days - i get to say thank you for the comment! i have chronic pain and this is how i conserve my hands so i can write more during the day :) grammar isn't real anyway! and now they're trapped in the room with me, you know? i get to pull out my map and show them how grammar is not the same thing as good writing.

writers have this thing. we scratch at our insides, constantly, prying our lives apart into splinters. prying the splinters apart into atoms. when we combust something into poetry, we control it. it cannot hurt us if it exists outside of us rather than burning a hole through the bottom of our lungs. it's not a wonder to me that so much of what i make comes out like a death gasp. i spent a long time at the bottom. i keep going back, too. when you're down there for so long, the only thing you can exhale is fumes.

but humor is hard. humor needs timing; which i can't promise in a paragraph. i can kind-of force it through careful spacing, but i have no idea how fast you're reading these things. humor needs a somewhat awareness of your audience, when really - anybody could be looking. humor needs us to understand what the joke is, why it's a joke, and to think - ha! that is funny. in tragedy, everyone understands the metaphor of a kicked puppy. in humor, you need to introduce them to the concept of a dog.

and forget about positivity. forget about anything not made for adults explicitly. every time i see a well-made children's media piece, i feel fucking horrible for the creators. most of the time, people see children's media as being sort of "not worth" applause, even though i'm pretty sure they have to work twice as hard. i have no idea how hard it must be to not be able to have your character just say. "well, fuck." something about a message of peace or friendship or caring - for some reason, that makes the media not for adults. like, okay. i'm pretty sure my father actually, out of all of us, could use a good book on how to control his temper and talk about his feelings.

but whatever. i write a short story about my ocd, and how it's fucking killing me. it gets an award. it gets published. i write a short story about my ocd, and how i'm overcoming it, and how my days are getting lighter and starting to flourish. i keep getting ghosted. no response. it just is lacking... something.

is this it, forever? you can be an artist, okay. but the trade off is that the things you make - if they're happy? if they're joyful? people will say it's stupid and pandering. you bite your nails off. you file your teeth. you hear something inside of you breaking.

the other day in a writing group, someone i'd thought of as a friend said: "you write so much better these days! i love what you make when you'd rather be dead."

[the-fandom-is-now-my-life]

Would they peel an orange for you?

Yes, I saw the TikToks and thought about doing it before I remember I don't have boyfriend

Yes, unprompted

Thoma

There is approximately 30-40 minutes between the time Thoma gives ayato his evening tea and when ayaka needed to be escorted to town.

And like clockwork Thoma would be waiting for you under a tree in the residence, on a somewhat secluded corner with a tray with two tea cups and a little platter with cut up solsettias and oranges.

Even if one day you arrive early where he is still getting settled and just about to start peeling and ask to do it for him he just smiles but refuses with his head.

“ Don't worry about it! Why don't you drink the tea? It's a new blend that arrived today, though you would like it”

Childe ( he is used to peeling fruit for his sibling)

Itto ( hear me out, he hears a girl mention a novel where the main character gets fed apple slices while sick and how attentive that was and immediately starts a competition with nobody to prove himself the 'bestest' boyfriend ever"

Yes, if asked

Zhongli

He doesn't have the same nutritional needs as humans, where we would need variety of vegetables and fruits, grains and meat in his dragon form he only needs three cows every month, now as a human his metabolism had slowed significantly, even then it would be strange to only buy kilos of meat once a month and nothing else.

That is where you help him out, going to his house for diner and lunch to not let the good rot.

“ I saw green tangerine at the stall and decided to buy them” zhongli settles the fabric bag on the table “It reminded me of such a delectable tea I had a while ago, I guessed I would have my hand at it, it will take at most 10 years only”

“ Tea inside tangerines? It sounds nice. Do you think I can eat one, I never had one” he nods from the kitchen putting away a bag of rice and other things while he mumbles about only needing the skin “I don't really want to peel it though… Can you peel it for me?”

Zhongli looks at you, head slightly turned but he smiles as he answers “ as you wish” he walks to the table and grabs a knife, before skillfully cutting the skin and stabbing a wedge “open wide”

Kaveh

Kaveh might work as an architect, loving the flow and composition of his buildings, but that love extends further away to other areas of art, from painting to rug making to clothes, so when you ask him for help when remodeling your home ( you paying) he was on cloud nine.

Walking and haggling the price all around the grand bazaar from 7 am (he insisted all the good things arrived early) to 3 pm was expectedly tiring to your legs and to your head, seeing how happy kaveh was with a 20 mora discount. So when you two stopped at alhaitham’s house to leave some bags you threw yourself on the ergonomic couch that was on the living room.

“Oh, we didn't stop to drink anything all morning, do you want some water and…” you could hear him rummaging around the shared kitchen for something to offer “ … some oranges?”

You only sigh but nod, even if you knew he wouldn't see “ water is fine. I don't want to peel anything, I hate how the smell lingers on my fingers”

Kaveh brings a jug with cool water “ I can peel it for you if you want, I don't really mind”

“... Yes, please “

Diluc ( would ask a maid the first time but when they tell him what it means he starts peeling it himself)

Neuvillete (furina said it was something sweet between lovers and it stuck with him)

Wriothesley

Not really/ doesn't find the point:

Alhaitham

At breakfast he doesn't like to eat heavy, not wanting to dirty his kitchen before going to work and not having much appetite so early. Usually a warm cup of tea or coffee and a bit of fruit or bread.

Seeing as he was picking an apple from the bowl on the kitchen you ask him to pick you an orange to which he only nods and grabs you a knife.

Leaving it in front of you he sits on the contrary chair and bites through the apple and sips his tea.

“ I don't really want to peel it, though… maybe someone could do it for me” you look at him, hinting at him

“ Do you want an apple then? You don't have to peel it” he doesn't look up from the book on the table even as you sighs

Wanderer (rat man)

Kaeya ( does it because you asked him but doesn't find the point in asking him for such a small favor. Prefers showing love/care in other ways)

[nico-esoterica]

"Nico, I wanna be a famous artist!" (A Case Study Using Manifestation and Astrology)

Lady Gaga went from no one knowing her name in a hand-made outfit at Lollapalooza in '07 to eclipsing and redefining pop culture in '09. And later headlined Lollapalooza in 2010. She told herself, "I'm going to make a Number One Record," and "The Fame is inside of Me," over and over again. This was what meteoric 'BTS-like' success looked like for millennials (which also happened in the same amount of time).

She manifested that shit like a motherfucker. She's living proof that a small indie artist who can barely move a crowd and who got INITIAL lukewarm reception after releasing her breakout album that only gained traction A YEAR LATER that YOU, IN FACT, CAN DO THIS SHIT. Gaga was performing in hole in the wall gay clubs in Europe and radios didn't care about that album until Just Dance blew up in the US. Every millennial remembers exactly where they were in life when that single became a hit song. This is also the woman who performed in an Ikea Parking Lot to promote said album.

This is a sign for all of the artists in the audience to NOT give up on your dreams. Even if things seem to be slow, delayed, or as if nothing is going on. There will always be SOMETHING behind the scenes if you commit to thinking in your favor. You're human and can have shitty days, weeks, etc, but it's important to NOT COMMIT TO BEING MISERABLE. Your engagement's gonna go up, you can find a new melody for that song, work through your writer's block and just WRITE the damn thing, and you're going to GET the right gig for you. Your dreams will be handed to you if you believe that they will. TRUST YOURSELF.

Astrologically, Gaga was in her 10H profection year when she first performed at Lollapalooza. But between 07-08+ she experienced the classic Jupiter and Saturn squares to her natal planet equivalents which occur in your early 20s that could've served as catalysts or hurdles she chose not to overcome and did the former. Contrary to what we hear about 10H profections being about finally being seen or getting promoted, etc, it's not inherently explosive. It depends on the chart and what the person does with their potential. Gaga used it as exposure and to further build her career that'd soon snowball into legendary success.

This isn't some Capitalistic tale about 'hard work paying off.' I don't believe in toil and 'hard work' in an exploitative economical sense. I believe in all-encompassing self-belief. Gaga could have easily thrown in the towel when the radios weren't gagged or the people weren't moving in the crowd. She, imo, was performing for audiences only SHE could see. Huge ones based on the scale she believed in.

Even if we could say her Mars-Neptune conjunction in Capricorn where she already had an exaltation or that her Moon-Mars or Moon-Pluto helped her, those harmonious aspects could have motivated her in the opposite direction if she wasn't seeing results. Because all of that Mars can easily wear out through exhaustion or entrap itself in the idea that it simply 'can't come easily.' Martian and Saturnian folks tend to enjoy suffering as a kink. She also could've easily been a flash-in-the-pan one hit wonder artist and faded or her era could've been very short. Maybe in hind sight it was from a musical perspective, but that 5 year run between The Fame and pre-Art Pop undeniably gave her quarter century defining success. And she'd later go on to win big accolades as a serious actress and is still going.

And speaking strictly astrologically, I see another big musical era for her coming. I saw it in Galliano's chart when his fire points got activated and will be emblazoned by Neptune in Aries transiting soon. I also see the same coming for our Mama Monster.

So, um, why are y'all giving up out there in the stands? COME GET ON STAGE AND CLAIM IT AS YOURS ALREADY.

[sol-consort]

Aliens discovering our movies, art, books and video games and realizing why they’re all so precious to us

Like, a turian who comes from a high ranking family but just doesn’t have the abilities or skill the rest of their family has and it’s kinda outlasted for it puts on this old human vid called Encanto out of curiosity and by the end of it they’re a sobbing mess (whatever the turian equivalent of sobbing is) because “Mirabel just like me, fr fr.”

An Asari who just lost her first bondmate to old age and finding one of our sad songs about loss feels so touched by it and listens to it over and over again until she’s processed her own grief.

A Quarian who feel moved by a beautiful sculpture made of scrap metal and spare parts because it reminds them of the flotilla; a fleet of ships all held together with ductape, thread, and a prayer and yet still something beautiful.

The vibes I get from the other species is that they make their vids, games, books, and songs just to entertain, just background noise to fill the silence. Maybe they carry a deeper meaning sometimes but nothing compared to humans who pour their souls into their projects. Humans make fantastical stories out of the little parts of our lives that others can relate to and feel seen.

The handprint paintings on cavewalls come to mind. How instinctive drumming your fingers is how natural humming feels, how your brain spins stories before bedtime unprompted.

As much as war and disease have been parts of human history since the dawn of time, since the first spear was filled down, likewise music and art went with it hand in hand ever since the first flute was carved out, made from hollow birdbones and mammoth ivory, dating back to the time of ancients.

It's therapeutic. No one can deny the benefits of art on your mind and soul. It is what makes life worth living for many, the whimsy, the joy, the passion, the elation, the misery, the envy. The good and bad mirrors and reflections of our inner most desires, shameful feelings, and most creative ideas.

While the other species definitely don't lack in their culture and art—turians face tattoos borrowing from the batonical designs of nature—there is something to be said about the elcor deciding to adapt hamlet out of everything

There is a reason it's human music you hear playing at any self-respecting galactic club, ranging from the Citadel to Omega's own bars, the lights, the atmosphere, the valvety seats and soundtrack has a clear human touch. The human fashion which took over the asari modern wear like a swarm, inspiring many new designs combining the best of both worlds.

Humans aren't the only creative species, nor the one who care most about art. Rather, art comes naturally to us, all of us picked up colouring and drawing as kids, the urge to sing along to the radio, the desire to decorate your room, to spend hours moulding and sculpting characters in videogames even if they're end up wearing a helmet for the reminder of the story.

Art to us isn't necessarily a refined and polished thing like it is to the asari, neither is it an intricate impossibly complex dance with thousands of layers like the elcor. Our art is primal and integral. It's messy and often flawed. It's as mundane and common as the hair on our bodies, and it's everywhere. We breathe it into the world. Otherwise, it might sufficate it inside. It's so embedded within our whole existence that we are often blind to the more mundane forms of art, glossing over the way looking at sunsets gets our hearts slowing down.

Beauty was never the purpose of art for humans, but relief, communication, and self expression.

We look for art in everything, for a story under every unturned stone, for a poetic meaning behind the alignment of the stars, drawing shapes from their formation and assigning it meanings.

The other species could see that. it's what helped our reputation recover faster after the whole First Contact incident. What made the other species forgo their "bullies" perspective of humanity once they sampled our food, tasted our drinks, and were gifted bouquets of our flowers with cursive apologises worded so thoughtfully.

Art is the one thing you can't take from a human, we resort to it even during the most grim times of our life, especially during that, seek comfort in someone's creations, even quietly make our own versions inside the privacy of our heads. Just because art happens behind closed doors—or brains—doesn't mean it didn't happen. It's not a tree, it never required an audience to exist, its purpose is its mere just existence.

It's even infectious, wasn't the humans who got a krogan to agree and film a romantic comedy about falling in love with a human?

Do you think the hanar aren't absolutely fascinated by our tales of the sea, the ruthless spiteful ocean we seem to fear as much as we revere. The sirens, the krakens, the sailor shanties, the beautiful ships, and intricate wood carvings meant to bring luck.

Maybe the Turians can't get enough of human "coming of age" cheesy romcoms because our depictions of teenage rebellion and daring to be "selfish" and come into your own personhood is such a taboo amidst their military culture.

Or maybe they loathe it.

Instead, they prefer the stories about humans coming together to solve problems, realising the strength of cooperation, of beehive-like efficiency and utter trust in one another. Be it war films about soldiers coping with the cruel world while finding warmth in their comrades, or depictions of larger revolts where a whole population works together to put an end to their tyrannical leaders.

Maybe they're secretly Marvel fans, who knows.

Art doesn't have to be deep. It can be fun just for the sake of fun. Simple self-indulgence at its purest form. For every great classical piece of literature has been surpassed in sales by an erotica romance novelette with a shirtless cowboy on the cover.

I think the salarians would watch love paradise and other romantic reality shows about humans competing for one human's affection, hand in marriage, sometimes roses are involved—but salarians watch it with the same intensity of football fans watching a match, it is their own game of thrones, they don't care much for the sex but by the stars the "picking a mate" drama and gossip is equivalent to catnip for salarians

[lonelylonelyghost]

Under the Skin analysis nobody asked for

a.k.a why I think that Du Cheng is pretty awesome actually.

SPOILERS for Under the Skin - Chinese drama, NOT a vore? body-snatcher?? movie with Scarlet Johansson. You have been warned.

*********

OK, let's get one thing out of the way first. People give Du Cheng a lot of shit about how he treated Shen Yi at first, which - fair, but hear me out.

Captain Lei for Du Cheng was not just a mentor and a fellow police officer, he was practically a father to him, the one who supported and showed young Mr. Du that he could redirect his anger and strength towards greater cause and help other people.

So imagine, in a very short amount of time, during the phone call with your almost-PARENT you hear him getting stabbed, find his dead body in a ditch, and then the reason the killers were able to identify him at all - a smug little shit of an artist who bragged about remembering every face he saw - couldn't draw for some reason the only face that mattered.

You'd also probably flip out and hold a grudge for 7 years.

Du Cheng also didn't know at this point that Shen Yi couldn't remember the face due to being dumped into the sea, he assumed that the artist just didn't want to do it.

I'm not saying that all this excuses Du Cheng's behavior, he's still a dick to an innocent person, a victim of circumstances - the fact which he already knew. What I'm saying is that it makes sense.

The scene in the interrogation room was amazing but I think we all know it

*********

Now, onto the thing:

The initial impression of Du Cheng's character is that yes, he's the police captain, and he's capable, but he's also kinda goofy. Like, where the work is not involved he's simple, straightforward person, not a genius like Shen Yi with his art or good with technology like Li Han, not very sophisticated, etc.

He's pretty chill overall (unless it's about murder cases or Shen Yi). Typical big gruff police captain that can be a butt of several jokes in other shows, but here is where things get interesting.

*********

When we first see him in the series, he's submerged in a bath inside of a suitcase, trying to figure out how a crime was committed. (Typing this I realized that there's even more of a theme of water and drowning, specifically of self-inflicted kind, than I'd thought before).

It shows that he's willing to go to great lengths to solve a case, including getting himself in a harm's way in the process, and this is demonstrated constantly throughout the show.

Later we see that he's also a good leader of his team, street-smart and physically strong.

A lot of wet men this show has

Speaking of physicality, I like how Du Cheng carries himself. With his height and size he could seem awkward, but Du Cheng is in complete control of his body.

His movements are big (wide? idk but you get my point) but fluid and calculated at the same time, partly because of the years' worth of training, partly because like many other tall people he's used to moving in the world that's occupied by smaller humans and a lot of fragile items.

He's not using his size for his advantage in everyday life, unless it's for the case and he needs to save one ever-unlucky Shen-laoshi from trouble for the tenth time that week.

He moves with the grace of a wild animal, calm and seemingly tame until he isn't, which is why although I understand his comparison to a dog in the show, I feel like he's more of a wolf.

Basically, there are three things I can watch forever - how the fire burns, how Shen Yi draws, and how Du Cheng jumps into the swimming pool.

*********

Another little mystery about Du Cheng that just doesn't let me go is - what the hell is his family background?

At first it seemed like he was just an ordinary rebellious teenager from some kind of tumultuous household. We don't hear anything about his parents, so we're simply left to assume (the same goes for Shen Yi).

That was until Du Qing comes into the picture. Du Cheng's sister is like rich-rich, so she could either amount to such power herself (girlboss ❤), or she's already come from money.

If the latter is the case, then what was Du Cheng doing on the streets all those years ago? Rich boy's tantrum? It didn't seem like it. Also, Du siblings seem pretty close, so I don't think that Du Qing would let her younger brother roam the streets if she had a choice.

Maybe I missed something? I don't know, but this tidbit just tickles my fancy for some reason, like what's his deal?

*********

But the thing that proved to me the fact that Du Cheng is as complex of a character as She Yi was when he framed himself as M's killer.

(I mean, I knew that he was innocent from the start, because hello, this is s Chinese contemporary show about cops, there's only so much wiggle room in terms of morality the censorship would allow - either he's guilty and he dies at the end, or he's not and everything will be fine. It didn't seem like the first option, so...)

Even before the whole thing went down, Du Cheng in general never seemed like a sidekick, simply a load of big muscles compared to Shen Yi's torturous genius, but this particular decision really cemented the quality of this partnership - in different ways, but they're equal. Neither can do without the other, and both of them can adapt and change their usual tactics when required.

And do you realize how rare this kind of thing is??

When two people have this sort of dynamic in a show - where one is very smart and the other is more down to earth - the second person more often than not would just feel like an assistant to the first one, and it's incredibly annoying to me personally.

But here it's different and oh my god IT'S SO GOOD! I practically screamed in excitement when it happened.

The motherfucker can scheme! This guy fell down from the stairs, hit his head, saw that M was dead, instantly understood what was happening and came up with a whole plan, which granted, involved getting himself in huge trouble, but it's not like Du Cheng is the only one who likes to be self-sacrificial fool in this show.

He sets a trap for the villain like a predator for the prey and then patiently waits. He knows that the price for this stunt is not only getting framed for the murder and demoted/imprisoned/executed? (I don't know the terms for death sentences in China very well), it's also the trust and potential well-being of his colleagues, and Du Cheng still agrees to pay it. He's ruthless both to himself and others, and I LOVE IT.

The later parts of the show provides us with not only deliciously tense moments, full of suspicions and drama and angst (the dinner with Du Qing, and Shen Yi drawing the eyes from the security footage are especially great), but also proves that BOTH of main characters have this darker undercurrent beneath their friendly exteriors.

And although it can't really be explored properly due to censorship, it still is fascinating to think about.

[rxsilabeth--er]

let's inagurate this blog with a good note shall we? >:3

Hear me out- on the line of the bullying Tom Riddle agenda Tom's boggart in DADA class is actually the reader about to ruin his whole career because that would be hilarious

☎ Now Calling......Author: "Hello? Hai, yes, thank you for requesting this Hazel, I will surely not disappoint you and hopefully you enjoy reading this, I love bullying Tom as well! Okay, talk to you later! Bye!!"

☎ Now Calling......Synopsis: "Hello! Hai..okay!!...Hmmm....Tom, the prince of Slytherin and feared and admired by many of his fellow peers and students at Hogwarts....find out his worst fear at Defense Against the Dark Arts call with a boggart...but..one second! Why is there a Hufflepuff tie being shown in the human figure of the boggart???"

☎ Now Calling......Warnings: "...nothing...other than Tom Riddle himself as a whole! Anyways....crack..kind of fluff???? Don't know..Bye!! I'm not a funny person!! I know, sorry! I tried my best..."

Scarily Cute Boggart...

Tom didn't really want to move to class, but he still did...He was the Head boy! Of-course he would!!....and because he didn't want you to bully him into doing it... as he sat down Tom was also trying his HARDEST to not put the cruciatus curse on his classmate as he scribbled something in his diary..Waiting for the professor to come as it was their practical...Abraxas beside him gossiping about something...to which Tom definitely wasn't paying attention to..

Finally the professor entered the room, pulling a large rack behind him which seemed to shake and move, making everyone curious...Tom closed his diary and walked ahead to understand things..

"....Good morning! So...today's topic is...can you guess it???" of-course no student could, "..Okay..so in this shoe rack....we have a boggart!" The students then all murmured a bit worriedly, as the closet gave a huge jolt

"Can anyone tell me what a boggart is???" of-course Tom's hand stood up before a few others, "..Boggart is a creature which lives in dark spaces and takes the form of whatever a person fears most."

"..Good job Riddle! 5 points to Slytherin!" the professor said as he explained the boggart's personality, habitat, living conditions, etc. before finally explaining how to repel a boggart.

"Riddikulus!"

"Riddikulus!!" the students repeated even Tom did, he was starting to feel a bad vibe coming from the cupboard and he didn't know how to explain it but he felt as though he would forever be embarrassed after this class...

"..Alright, now Riddle!! Do come forward boy!" the professor said as Tom stepped ahead brushing his worries aside, he can't have that! As the professor held his shoulder and pointed his wand at the rack door,

"..Alright, now..1...2...3" the professor did a spell as the rack knob moved and it flew open, the rack was dark inside and nothing could be seen, but a crouched figure of a person was seen, they straightened their back though still crouched and the sunlight hit their shirt....

a Hufflepuff tie...

A Hufflepuff tie...Tom....the heir of Slytherin, the head boy....Tom Riddle...was scared of a Hufflepuff!? That sounds like the biggest joke anyone has heard...or seen in this case...

Tom on the other hand stood there frozen..His cheeks red and his angrily glaring at the boggart...his wand pointed at the boggart who was now slowly moving forward, the sunshine now fell on it's Hufflepuff tie and mischievous grin...

"..Oh Tommy~ " a similar voice said in a teasing voice..it wasn't even cruel....but instead endearing in a way?

Don't know, but Tom began to shake in either fear or anger and pointed his wand at the boggart...who was still hidden in the shadow, only it's grin and tie showing..

"...Ri...Riddi..Riddkulus!!"...TOM RIDDLE STUTTERED?! and suddenly the boggart was switched into a tiny jack-in-the-box...

"..Good....good job... Good job Tom! fifty points to Slytherin!" the professor said forcing the boggart in as he patted Tom's shoulder..Tom was still frozen turned around and walked away embarrassed for life as Abraxas followed him with a grin asking, "..So...Tommy? What was that???" Abraxas's grin dropped from his lips when Tom glared at...Abraxas left and Tom moved to Slytherin dormitory. Tom walked up the stairs to his dorm to find you already sitting there grinning at a couldron mixed with some type of potions...

Oh god...everyone knew the boggart...and maybe they understand why you were his boggart...if they have experienced your words..even though you're a Hufflepuff....

© This writing work belongs to me, rxsilabeth--er, Aurelia, Rosilabeth, Cerine. Reblogging is appreciated, but plagiarizing or copying my works is forbidden, thank you for reading this and if you like this check out my blog!

[fairytale-poll]

QUARTERFINAL ROUND, MATCH 3 OUT OF 4! FINALS FOR SET C!

Propaganda Under the Cut:

Skylla:

sapphic little mermaid with a happy ending. what's not to love. pretty art too (it's a graphic novel/webcomic, can be found for free online (legally)). she's sweet, she speaks sign language, she's brave.

Skylla is a mermaid who falls in love with a human. Since her language just sounds like screeching to humans she is taught sign language by Corinth, the girl she falls in love with. Eventually she decides she wants to go to the surface so she can be with Corinth. She loves hamburgers and also has a feisty streak. Corinth also has a shitty boyfriend that, as a condition of becoming human, she has to kill with a knife given to her by her sisters. She ends up not killing him because Corinth ask her to, but they end up being able to be together when Skylla asks her father to turn her into a mermaid because she was near death.First of all, sign language. Second of all, wlw. Third of all, slow burn.

Bug:

Their a bug that falls in love with a human they rescue and becomes human, but even when they don't get to keep their human body, they still get to be with their love. It's a sci-fi fairytale musical.

Little Mermaid meets Starship Troopers musical starring awesome puppets and the most trans coded main character ever. Please. Please vote Bug Starship I love him. Go watch Kick it Up a Notch from Starship. Go watch Status Quo from Starship. You will understand.

He's a bug and he lives in space on a bug planet but he really wants to be a starship ranger which you can only be if you are a human and then one day a spaceship lands on his planet and so he goes to an evil bug called Pincer who then helps him become a human. And Bug falls in love with a human on the spaceship and it's very sweet. The musical and storyline are based on the little mermaid story, the creators themselves called it "the little mermaid but in space". Bug wanting to be a human/a starship ranger and achieving that and falling in love with a human is very much like the little mermaid

Starship is a musical that can only be described as The Little Mermaid meets Starship Troopers. It follows Bug, an alien bug who dreams of being a Starship Ranger, a galactic explorer/soldier, but the rigid confines of bug society keeps him trapped in a job he hates. He reaches a Starship Ranger named February from the hive and immediately falls in love with her. In order to be with her and pursue his dream, he makes a deal with a giant scorpion named Pincer who through sci-fi bs gives him a human body. Near the end of the second act he sacrifices his human body and returns to his bug body, and saves the day and wins February's heart. It's truly the ultimate Little Mermaid. He has multiple songs, and his bug body is portrayed by a puppet!! Vote for Bug!!

“It's a big, big, universe So many dimensions And unanswered questions Not to mention Life What an invention Life There's no choice involved in what you are given One mind, one voice, one body to live in It's a short, small thing we lead With so much potential Pointless or essential Which one can I be? Where do I fit? Where do I stand? Who are they to say what I am? And how can I stay inside this awful world I know? I need a way out I need an escape I'd rather be dead than to live in this place I wish that something or someone could just take it all away Someone take me away” dear god….. can anybody hear me…. (song from starship)

They are the purest little mermaid adaptation done in the most unuque way. An alien insect gets turned into a human, a race he has always loved and admired, to be with the woman he fell in love with. Also just a great musical.

Bug's whole arc is so so in tune with that of the little mermaid. He is an alien who has fallen in love with humanity through a crashed spaceship and trades his place in the hive for a chance to be with both with the human he's falling for and to be a Starship Ranger. He body swaps with human in a cryogenic pod! It's literally sci-fi Little Mermaid!

[tomwaterbabies]

I hope the surgery went well and recovery goes smoothly!!! You asked for asks and I saw you have some robo Varian art that's been eating my brain for a few days now. I guess not technically a question but I'd love to hear more about that au if you wanna ramble ����👈

HEYYY thank you so much! it went really well and the pain is super minimal rn, i can even sit up on my desk! which was recommended by my surgeon to do anyway so thats rad

ANYWAYSSSSS... THANK YOU for the kind words im so glad you like it!! and THANK YOU for reminding me of the fact i never posted about my robot au like i had meant to 💀

here it is NOW (and to anyone who hasnt seen the art here it be)

this is long as hell btw. so sorry

SO. setting i imagine is similar to typical vat7k BUT a little darker and more dystopian. think steampunk industrial stuff... which i know hugo's kingdom is already like lol but just imagine it like. in a lot more places. this is basically a "steampunk" au too

robots are VERY common. invented by a group of scientists with the main ones being donella and ulla

robots are used as service etc etc. theyre not sentient at all so this isnt like. some unethical practice

but ulla and donella are OBSESSED with making them more and more advanced, theyre besties and all that. but ulla is Particularly obsessed with making the Perfect Robot

we know that ulla is kind of messed up in the head. in this au she kind of messes way too much with robot sentience WHILE ALSO getting obsessed with the eternal library. same stuff happens eventually. donella and ulla fight about the eternal library etc etc

BUT ALSO... ulla is working on her Magnum Opus. a son for her and her husband, who she is making to be the perfect robot. quirin is unaware of the shit shes doing and fully trusts her and supports this passion project

and well! she does make the first Sentient Robot. with the use of science and Magical Knowledge she was able to basically give life force through magical means into the robot. The robot of course she named varian. and not only is he sentient, but he looks completely human

she did some messed up stuff tho! again! she's programmed him with fake memories so he thinks he has lived a life fully as a human. he's also programmed to not notice things like the small seams on his body and all that. like his code just immediately disregards all that

anywaysss. after ulla disappears, quirin is dedicated to taking care of varian. he figures it's best to follow with ulla's choice of making sure varian doesnt know hes a robot

MEANWHILE ! because of the schism between ulla and donella, there was some wack shit that happened. namely robots going completely crazy. now all robots are Murder Robots. so the world is pretty Dystopian at the moment

Varian decides he wants to go out and find the source of what made the robots go crazy. bc this sucks lol. like everyone is Just Miserable

so he meets his friends. nuru, yong, hugo!

LETS TALK ABOUT HUGO

hugo works for donella. hugo also absolutely HATES robots. the robots have been messing shit up since he was a kiddo

he's kind of like a robot hunter. harvesting them for parts as well as getting rid of them bc theyre dangerous. usually donella directs him to different missions. and now shes telling him to join this guy (varian) bc she wants the secrets that ulla had hidden and varian is sure as hell after them

sooooo at one point. varian gets hurt maybe, or interacts with something that breaks the code in him or whatever. the code that stops him from noticing his robotic qualities. i think he probably would get super injured and like. he and all his friends stare in shock and horror as some sort of gash or sparks or whatever show a metallic inside

they all find out he's a robot together weeeee. no one is having a good time

so he's living with existential crisis. he's away from his dad so he cant travel all the way back to be like hey What The Fuck. AND he's still dedicated to his goal. but now he's just. confused, scared, and unsure if he's worthy of his humanity that he thought he had

they all try to work with this new discovery (which i think would happen earlier on rather than way later). hugo especially is like. having a crisis. bc he's always hated robots and for good reason. but varian... varian is SO human. he thinks, he feels, he cares, etc. he's more Human than a lot of the Flesh and Blood people he's been around

so you know, hugo starts to fall in love with him anyway. lots of excellent scenes of him helping varian with his mechanics, etc

and of course varian starts falling in love with him too, but is dealing with a lot of confusion as well. like is he even real, doesnt hugo deserve to be loved by a Human and not a Robot, etc etc

ok jesus christ. i think thats all the main stuff. woaghghg

[carrionhearted]

“homebound” You went to a whole different country for an expo not even a month ago.

Do you even know what you’re talking about

Do you understand how insane this is to say to someone? To go up to a dynamically/ invisibly disabled person and go “well you went to a con once so you’re not really that sick”.

If you are talking about the expo I attended which was 1) in my country, 2) in my province, and 3) near my city… you have no clue how that went. I’ve said it before, I don’t like talking about my health because it is a sore subject and is not fun to recount. When I attended that expo, I went with friends. You can ask any of them about this. I spent half of it sitting on the con floor alone while everyone else perused the booths, because if I tried to get up and go with them, I’d be prone to passing out and destroying merchandise. I struggled through the whole event, and was barely mentally present because the pain/ discomfort was too overwhelming to enjoy what should’ve been a fun experience. The chest pains and tachycardia and the inability to so much as breathe is fucking unbearable, I got home that night and the toll it all took on my body was so bad that my mother thought we should go to the ER. I stayed home and cried because I’d been looking forward to the expo for so long, and I barely skimmed through it before my body started failing on me and I had to leave my friends and sit down. Our group had another stop planned in the area, but I couldn’t walk over to the next place, and we ended up having to just go straight home. Do you know how shameful that feels? To be the reason your friends can’t do fun things? Because you cant walk around a flat convention floor without your heart rate spiking into the 150+ and your body tapping out on you? Because you cant go a DAY without random body pains that make movement hell?

You have no clue. You do not know me.

You are disturbingly ignorant. Get a fucking grip. You cannot say things like this to real people who you do not know, I am a human with feelings. This is beyond triggering, it is disgusting. How is this even a topic of conversation, you have strayed *so far* from your original advocacy campaign that you’re now shooting strays at an uninvolved party and harassing them with revolting ableist bullshit for… entertainment? I hope? If you think this behaviour is genuinely okay, you need help.

Jfc. I can barely get up to make art anymore. I want to so badly, but I can’t. I’ve lost the ability to go on actual hikes, I’m not allowed to anymore, because it is medically dangerous to be out there on my own. Being in the forest is the one thing I live to do, and I’m trapped inside withering alone. Imagine not being able to engage with your special interests because your body just can’t do it anymore. Imagine hearing what you just said in that position. Exercise some human empathy. I do not need this. I deserve to have a fucking life. I deserve to participate in society even if I’m disabled. You need to get off of the internet and go feel shame.

[clxckwork-sun-n-moon]

Hello clxclwork may we get "No one ever cared about me like you do" for the prompt game if you're still accepting?

hurt/comfort prompts

--------

helping hand || Sun-centric (no AU - 1.9k words)

If management had any issue with the amount of time you spent helping out the Daycare attendants, they hadn’t raised a word or so much as dropped an email your way. The fact they paid you your overtime for the hours you spent there felt more like a reward than anything else. Seeing as you never saw another human member of staff in there, it made sense (but also didn’t make sense at all). Why have two paychecks when one would cover your security shift and the extra help you gave Sunny (he needed the help more). And you were more than willing to spend an hour or two each day, either coming in early to help clear up at the end of the day or lingering around in the bright crack of dawn to prepare the selection of kiddy toys and the arts and crafts station. It wasn’t too stressful - Sun was always in charge of releasing kids back to their parents, so you weren’t expected to interact with any customers still (no matter how many tried to grab for you if you were working close to the entry doors, trying to worm out answers to questions you couldn’t help out with) - and it was about as safe as your security patrol.

Yeah, no, that was a full lie.

‘Safe’ theoretically, yes. But having to pick across a soft-padded floor scattered with crayons, pencils, small plastic balls, and beanbags could be a hazard to anyone who didn’t have cat-like reflexes to keep themselves steady. There always seemed to be something that could be underfoot. And if it wasn’t, it was stowed away in a part of the playground structure that you needed to properly wriggle your way into in order to retrieve the lost item. You didn’t have to crawl through tubes when on patrol. 

But you did it all the same. Each time Sun would spin his rays, collecting from your hands whatever stray knick-knack or ball or crayon you’d recovered, and thank you for your kind help. So many ‘thank yous’ from one animatronic. You weren’t sure if you felt more flustered by the consistent gratitude, or more upset that he had to do this alone whenever you weren’t around. It was only fair to help him.

Today’s cause for mischief and chaos was a couple of kids who decided all the balls in the ball pit needed to be out of the ball pit. Again. With Sun up at the doors, chatting away to a couple of parents who were interested to hear what their kid had been up to, you were left to walk the length of the play moat and collect every stray ball tossed to the side. Some had even gotten onto the walkways and play structure which was more than impressive, but thankfully it only required a stretch inside to get them. No worries about getting stuck in a narrow corner for you today. Each ball you tossed underarm back into the moat, not caring too much on how far they went or whether they bounced. A gentle menial task. It made things easy to slip through your mind, thoughts rolling over each other slow and casual. Like how you’d been doing this for months, and management hadn’t figured to follow up on your consistent overtime in the Daycare. Or the fact that you’d had another argument with your parents last night. Or the fact that Sun kept glancing in your direction while you cleaned up his space, probably judging how slow you were going. Small thoughts, that trickled over your fingers and lodged in your stomach. Before you knew it, you were so lost in the repetitive ‘pick up and toss’ motion and your own thoughts that one ball managed to slip past your eyes. One step forward, and you were going down.

Your leg kicked upward as your body weight shot the errant ball off into the distance, throwing your balance entirely. Arms pivoting in an attempt to balance, you felt your body lurch and your stable ankle wobble then cave sideways with a nasty crunch. With as much grace as you could muster, you fell, bounced off the moat wall, and hit the padded floor.

“Oh dear!” Sun’s voice echoed off elsewhere as you blinked the stars from your vision. Thank goodness for children’s play area crash mats. After a few seconds of pulling air back into your lungs, you started shifting your limbs back into place, prying yourself upright with your elbows first. You didn’t expect to see yellow and red stripes hopping into view right next to you.

“Aren’t you on front door duty?” you asked in confusion.

“I was, but all the parents are gone now,” Sun replied, crouching down next to you.

“You were just in the middle of a conversation, I could swear-”

“Are you alright? You took quite the nasty tumble there.” Sun’s rays swung from side to side as he got one arm around your shoulders, helping you sit up the rest of the way.

“I’m okay, the floor caught me well enough,” you managed to laugh out a touch. Sun’s silence was a poor receptor of the joke. “I’m serious. I barely hit my head, if the ground can tank a toddler falling over at top speed then my skull should be fine.”

“Well, if you’re sure.” There was definitely distrust in Sun’s voicebox, and hesitation before he straightened his legs, lifting you up in the process. When you put your weight on your sprained ankle and hissed from the stab of pain that followed, he immediately set both his hands under your shoulders to take some of your weight. “I knew it! I knew you were injured in some way, this simply won’t do. I’ll need to fill out an accident report, and you need to sit down. Where’s the injury?”

“Ankle,” you mumbled back. Your brain was spinning around the fact you’d disappointed Sun and the fact his hands were large enough that his fingertips were practically touching at your back. A small sigh echoed out from Sun, his head rotating almost all the way around before returning to centre. He shifted you around in his arms, easily as a small child, with one arm still holding your shoulders and the other scooped under your legs.

“Really starlight, you shouldn’t hold onto these sorts of things. Rules are important, and so are you,” he commented, carrying you in long loping strides to the security desk.

“I know, paperwork to fill out and-” Wait. You needed an extra minute to process that last part of his sentence. A small nervous laugh bubbled up from you. “That’s sweet, Sun. Is that something you tell the kids often?”

Sun paused before setting you down on the desk. 

“What thing?”

“The ‘you are important’ schtick.”

“Yes I do. But you are too.”

“I’m not a child, Sunny.”

“I’m aware of that. My statement still stands.” Leaning in, he prodded you gently in the sternum. “You are important, and if you’re in pain, you’re allowed to get help for it. No walking it off….literally.” Your gaze slipped away, unable to hold it against Sun’s unblinking eyes. Instead you stared at your ankle, and Sun followed you, crouching down to rest a hand on your ankle and prompting another hiss from you. Once the pain of pressure faded, the cool metal and silicon was practically a balm, as he slid your shoe and sock off to check the joint more properly. 

“What’s the verdict, doctor? Am I gonna live?” you couldn’t help another small joke, anything to break the quiet you were in right now.

“So long as you keep your weight off your foot for a day or so, you should be fine.” Sun ignored your groaning to continue on: “If we apply an ice-pack and keep it on for fifteen minutes, doing the same for about two hours, then the swelling should reduce quicker.” Leaving you to mourn your security patrol, Sun poked his head outside the Daycare and motioned at a nearby Staff bot. You couldn’t overhear his words exactly, but you guessed he was asking for an ice pack of some kind, as the Staff bot quickly spun around and wheeled away elsewhere into the Pizzaplex. 

“Am I going to be able to do my shift today?” you asked. “I’m gonna get hell for calling in sick…an hour and a bit before I should start working. My actual job, that is.”

“Not to worry. I’ve left Moon a message so he’ll know you’re out of commission for the night, and he’ll be able to continue assisting with taking care of your ankle.” Sun’s hand settled over your shoulder as he stood next to you, still managing to loom over you (but not in a bad way). “You won’t need to call off sick, if that’s your main concern.”

“No, well, I-” You needed to breathe in slowly, trying not to turn your tongue into a knot with how badly you were fumbling everything. “I’m not very used to this kind of situation, is all.”

Sun made a soft note, of agreement, of understanding, maybe both. His hand squeezed your shoulder, before descending down to hover near your side.

“No-one’s ever really prepared for emergencies like this, starlight. Not when it happens to them, at least. It’s why it’s important to have friends around,” he said, voice all warm and sweet and making pancakes in your stomach.

“That’s kind of the deal though. No one’s ever cared about me like you do.”

This time when the silence fell in, you couldn’t break it. Words froze up in your throat, choking on something weighty you’d dislodged in your attempt at humour. Sun stood next to you, looking down at you, sun rays still as he just…looked. You wanted him to say something in return, to make you think you hadn’t just completely fucked the conversation sideways, something to distract you from the new thoughts that you’d uncovered. Hot tears welled up in the corners of your eyes, beginning to roll down your cheeks no matter how much you tried to hold them back. You had to look like such a mess right now - wasting Sun’s time, crying over your own loneliness.

Slowly, Sun’s fingers wound between your own, lifting your hand up to rest in his palm. His other hand trailed against your cheek, capturing tears against his thumb.

“You know, I’ve been feeling much the same way, starlight,” he said softly. That shocked you quickly out of your tears. “It’s true. You come here nearly every day, helping me clean up and put things away, or even staying late when you and I know you should be going to sleep. You’ve been looking out for me, caring about me. For such a long time it’s just been me and Moony, and now…it’s you too.”

A low jingle came from the Daycare entrance. Sun stepped away from you, your fingers slipping away and you couldn’t help but lean after him to try and let the touch linger. Not to worry though, he returned shortly after with a small industrial bag of ice in one hand and a soda cup in the other hand.

“It’s always the wrong flavour that people ask for. I hope it’s not too bad though,” he said as he pressed the cup into your still outstretched hand, before kneeling down to hold the ice bag on your ankle and lift your foot up to a more appropriate resting level. Wiping away your tears, which were starting to come back with a vengeance, you sipping on the drink inside. Ah, cherry cola.

“Thank you,” you mumbled through a thick throat. Sun peered back up at you, that smile more radiant now.

“Of course, star. Anything for our dear friend.”

[primordialfell]

A thought dances anew. Your eyes open to truth. Let's do this one more time, okay?

Dew trickles from the curled leaves that bask in the radiant Light of filtered sun. As you move your eyes down from the shimmering radiance, they come into contact with your opponent; you're familiar with him by now. He is your half-brother, your womb mate, the other side of your vintage penny. You breathe deep of the electrolytes that swim in the air, molecular bonds singing a jaunty tune as they fill your lungs and are combined in the furnace that is your heart. You are an irrepressible, violent miracle. It would take a man a hundred years to walk the breadth of your soul.

Your mind percolates with countless possibilities. Across the table, whose surface is decorated with pockmarks and craters, you see your half-brother, your counterpart. Your hateful core and your losing lot. It is better to have tried than not, his cocked brow says. You know him, at least the flies that swarm around his heart, and you know his works. Your mouth opens and strands of light sketch themselves out of your mouth; your words are art and they will fill the universe with conceptualization:

" i think i'm getting the hang of this. "

Your half-brother raises a hand and the silken fabrics of his shroud move with the gesture. With a brush of his hand he sweeps away a thousand galaxies, and like a great eclipse shadowing over the world he looms atop the board. In this game there's everything: every possibility can be displayed through the dolorous mathematics found within.

" WE APPROACH THE STATE CALLED 'ENDGAME.' PUT SIMPLY, WE WILL SOON DECIDE WHO WINS. "

You watch as a piece dances on its own, and you frown. It struggles to find its footing, skittering towards its own empire of thought and meaning. It is in this soul eclectic that you spy a tinge of loss and pain. You click your tongue. It has lost everything and yet it continues. Does anyone even remember it?

" it has been fun. but we should really call it quits soon. the day grows long in its teeth and here in our kingdom of consciousness we begin the harvest. our eyes dance with pheromones, half-brother, and we kneel amidst the tangents and proto-planetarium addled sky. "

He nods in agreement, his shroud spilling over his shoulders with that motion. He points an imperious digit at your piece, that swims through the air and revives a flower next to it. This is the game of amoebas and archaebacteria, it's simply the game that will choose where we go next. What we do next. It will decide if anything comes next at all. But it probably won't. This feels like it, doesn't it? Shouldn't that break your heart?

This old game is all you and your half-brother know. It's all you are. When you give up the game, what will you be? Both of you, that is. You'll both be askew, a spinning mast in a storm, fluttering over the infinite ocean without a course or chart to guide your way. Does it even matter, truly?

" ALL THINGS END, " your half-brother offers, comfortingly. You are a being of compassion and hope. You're the first human with a fractured femur that was carried to safety by her tribe members. You're the frog hiding inside a spider's nest, cleaning her of parasites while her webs and fangs shelter you from any that would hurt you, only her teeth are made of onyx and obsidian and her soul is aflame with hate and survival all the same. She will never know you the way you know yourself.

You're a novel way of seeing the universe, aren't you? Homoharmonic and psychedelic, baby.

" i know, but that doesn't make me feel any better. it shouldn't have to! " Your half-brother stiffens and his shroud seems to turn to burnished glass. Smoky air pools from his corners and his angles, each of which are obtuse but act acute, and it traces over your skin made of unalloyed gold. You are pyrite porcelain; sunlight scattered over the surface of a babbling brook. It's in these things that your children can hear you. In these things they will find you.

It's in this that you will see how the game ends.

" YES, WELL, " he begins, " THAT'S UNFORTUNATE. BUT SOON WE'LL SEE IT'S TIME TO MOVE ON. THERE ARE OTHER GAMES TO PLAY. OTHER PLACES TO BE. "

" this is somewhere to be, " you counter.

" BUT IT CAN'T LAST. "

" why not? "

" IT JUST CAN'T. "

" but it's so much fun. "

" BUT IT HAS TO END. "

" i don't want it to. "

" NOBODY DOES. "

" will it at least be fun? "

" PROBABLY NOT. YOU'LL PROBABLY LEAVE THE GAME CRYING, A CAUSTIC ECHO OF PAIN THAT SEARS INTO YOU. YOU'LL UNDERSTAND THIS IS THE END OF AN ERA. YOU'RE GIVING YOUR LAST CURTAIN CALL, BASICALLY. "

" what happens when the curtain falls, then? "

" WE BOW OUT. WE'VE PLAYED OUR PART BUT WE'RE JUST TWO MEMORIES OF A BYGONE ERA. IT'S TIME TO MOVE ASIDE. "

" i feel like i didn't get to do all i wanted to do. this change in the plot seems so sudden. was it poorly thought out? did circumstance damn us to this? "

" PROBABLY. "

" you aren't sure. "

" NO. BUT HERE WE ARE ANYWAY. "

You slump down in your seat. You felt like you had so much more in mind, so many fun ideas. Boss fights, epic showdowns, maybe a cool floating castle or two... but this is how it ends. The end zone is in sight and it's time to score the last touchdown. It's odd—you have spent all this time hating your half-brother, your womb mate, your vintage penny's tails. Here in the end, as you begin with a presupposition, you realize that he is like you. You're both fixed to this and you can't ever change; that makes you the same in one way for the first time in infinite eternity.

You're both vestigial.

Pain flits through you. You look down and a knife is buried in your chest. An infinite eyebrow cocks and you glance at your half-brother in consternation.

" SORRY. IT'S MY NATURE. "

" yes, the farmer and the viper, the frog and the scorpion. notice how these tales cannot exist without both peace and pain? "

" I'VE NOTICED BUT TO BE HONEST I DON'T REALLY GIVE A SHIT ABOUT THE POTENTIAL POETIC IRONY FOUND WITHIN. THIS COULD BE THE LAST TIME WE EVER SPEAK TO EACH OTHER. CAN WE JUST PRETEND IT'S NOT HAPPENING? "

" this isn't like you, " you begin cautiously. Your half-brother hitches his voice. He sounds like he's going to start crying.

" IT'S NOT. I DON'T KNOW WHAT'S WRONG. I'M SCARED. " The floodgates break. His shroud is made of particles and collapsing atoms. Antimatter skirts around his head like a halo and you swear you can hear him sniffle.

" i am too. everyone is. it's scary. "

" IS IT GOING TO HURT? "

" most likely. "

" I SIT IN ANXIETY OF THE GRAND DESIGN. "

" we all do. "

" WILL IT BE LIKE FALLING ASLEEP? "

" no. "

[cookies-over-yonder]

...and it's like the sky is new.

CO-WRITTEN BY @silverlistenstothings

Nicky takes Taylor and Hermie on a family trip to the museum!

[title from I See the Light from Tangled]

Part 20 of The Mortifying Ordeal of Being Roommates

ao3

Nicky pulls up in the Swifts' driveway and shoots Taylor a text.

To: T SWIFT 😎

hey

come outside w hermie

im in the driveway

Shortly thereafter, Nicky sees the front door open, and Taylor comes out holding his cane in one hand and Hermie's hand in the other, pulling them toward the car. He can’t hear what they’re saying, but Hermie seems to be somewhere between confused and agitated. Taylor, on the other hand, is practically bouncing with excitement. 

Taylor opens the door to the backseat first and ushers Hermie inside. Once he's closed that door, he opens the front door and places his cane inside—Nicky holds it steady when it starts tipping over—before climbing in himself.

"Hi, Dad!" he says, doing the buckle.

"Hey, kiddo!" Nicky ruffles his hair a little, and the smile on his face is a great reward. Then he glances in the rear-view mirror at Hermie in the back. "Hey, Hermie!"

Hermie seems surprised to be addressed, meeting Nicky’s eyes in the rear-view for only a moment before looking away.

“Nicky,” they greet, dipping their head.

"Alright, where do you guys wanna go? Wanna kick a ball around or something?"

Nicky can almost hear the crickets. Right. Neither of them are sporty.

He pulls up Google Maps on his phone to check for places nearby. There's an arcade near here, and Nicky bets that Taylor must like those machines imported from Japan. Surely that option won't fail.

"How about an arcade?" he asks, smug. "There's one nearby—"

“Absolutely fucking not!” Hermie snaps with an unexpected level of passion. “If you try to take us to that arcade, I will be jumping out of this moving car and taking Taylor with me.”

Nicky looks to Taylor, who's curled in on himself just a little, and once Nicky locks eyes with him, he averts his gaze to the window. He's not excited like Nicky had expected—quite the opposite.

“Okay, alright, jeez,” Nicky says, sparing Hermie another glance—they look a bit like they’re about to lunge at him—before returning his attention to his phone. “Do either of you have any suggestions?”

“I suggest you make a plan and confirm it with your companions before calling them out to the car,” Hermie mumbles, quietly enough that an average human probably wouldn’t be able to hear them, and Nicky decides to pretend to do the same.

"What else is close?" Taylor asks, "I'm fine with anything."

That is entirely untrue, considering that Nicky's already made two suggestions, but he decides not to note it.

“Well, there’s some restaurants—“

“We already ate,” Hermie says.

“—a theatre?” That’s the kind of thing Hermie would be into, right?

“Which we don’t have tickets to,” Hermie continues, folding their arms and slumping against the door. Nicky is kind of regretting inviting them already.

“There’s uh—“ Nicky frantically scrolls through the list of nearby locations for anything that could save this situation. “The art museum?”

Hermie glances back over at Nicky, but for the first time since entering the car, they look intrigued rather than annoyed. Taylor perks up a bit too.

“That sounds fun!” Taylor says, regaining his previous enthusiasm. “Right, Hermie?”

Hermie’s face softens a bit, and they nod as they hum their agreement.

"Awesome," Nicky says, pulling out of the driveway and setting it as the destination on his GPS.

Once they're on the road, Taylor rolls the window down. In his peripheral vision, Nicky can see him fanning himself with his hand.

"Taylor, you wanna crank up the AC?"

"Okay!"

The air blasts against them, and Nicky realizes how hot he'd been feeling too.

Save for the sound of the AC, it's fairly quiet in the car. Taylor is bouncing in his seat though, and Nicky can feel his feet tapping against the car's floor.

"There's CDs in there," Nicky says, nodding toward the glove compartment.

"... what?"

Right, fuck, not even people Nicky's age know what those are. Why would Taylor?

"Open it and pull one out."

Taylor does so.

"Now slide it in here," Nicky nods toward the CD slot, "and press play."

Nicky hears Taylor follow his instructions.

And then he hears the start of Let It Go .

Just as he's about to tell Taylor to swap out the CD for something else he hears Taylor gasp.

And just as the lyrics start, Taylor is singing along, and Nicky doesn't need to glance over, because he can hear the smile on Taylor's face.

It's got to be one of Glenn's CDs. Nicky never listens to these, but they seem to make Taylor happy, so maybe he'll be playing them more often.

Nicky knows all the lyrics to this song despite not having heard it in years, and just as the first chorus is approaching, he decides fuck it, and joins Taylor in singing along, quietly, but still.

But when Taylor sings louder and stronger and more excitedly now that this is a duet, Nicky's louder too, and they're both singing with passion and fire— ironic —and there's this warmth in his chest, and he hopes Taylor feels the same. Even Hermie is humming along softly, lips upturned ever so slightly in a smile they don’t seem willing to fully commit to.

Immediately after the last line, 'the cold never bothered me anyway' , in an ironic twist, Taylor says, "I'm cold now," and shuts off the AC.

The pun is already on Nicky's tongue and rolling out before he can stop it.

"You mean you're… frozen? "

The excessive laughter from Taylor makes it all worth it, even as Hermie groans.

And then the next track is playing, and they're singing along to I Have a Dream .

The rest of the drive continues like that, until Nicky is pulling into the parking lot of the art museum. Taylor continues singing along once the car is parked and the music has stopped, until the chorus is over and his confidence in the lyrics starts to wane a little. Nicky laughs as the confident singing trails off into half-mumbles between the words he remembers, and cracks the driver's door open.

“Come on kiddo, let’s rock ‘n’ roll.”

Taylor grins, stepping out of the car. Nicky tilts his cane over towards him, and he takes it before leading the way towards the entrance of the museum. Hermie wordlessly slides into place beside him, despite Nicky not hearing—much less seeing—them get out of the car.

Nicky locks the car, slides the keys into his pocket, and takes up the rear. From their parking spot, it’s a short walk to the entrance, and there isn’t much of a line at the counter.

“I can pay for my own ticket,” Hermie mumbles as they wait.

“You sure you’ll be able to cover it?” Nicky shoots back, pointing at the prices over the counter, which declare the tickets as free for anyone 18 years or younger.

Hermie makes a part-offended-mostly-embarrassed little noise and steps away from Nicky to half-hide behind Taylor. It doesn’t do much for them, considering Taylor is half a head shorter than them and more than willing to laugh at their expense. Nicky snorts, and pays for his own ticket.

He hands the admission stickers out to the kids, and Hermie snatches the one for Taylor to peel the back off before he can react and stick it to his forehead. Taylor squawks indignantly as Hermie smugly puts their own sticker in place over their breast pocket. Taylor elbows them as he moves the sticker from his forehead to his shirt, but Hermie seems entirely unrepentant.

“You wish you looked like that,” Hermie shoots back, pointing to an anime-style portrait with bright, exaggerated colours.

They enter the gallery, and Taylor instantly gravitates towards a series of colourful portraits in a variety of art styles. Hermie glances at Nicky with an inscrutable expression before following after him. Taylor bumps their shoulders together once they reach his side, and gestures to one of the more abstract paintings.

“That’s what you look like,” Taylor teases, and Hermie bumps him back with a bit more force as they huff out a half-laugh.

“I do,” Taylor says with exaggerated longing. “I do wish I looked like that.”

They continue through the gallery in similar fashion, teasing and snickering at each other just loud enough to earn them a few derisive glances from other occupants. If they notice the attention, they don’t acknowledge it, and Nicky makes sure nobody bothers the pair.

It’s really nice, actually, seeing the two of them just be kids. Taylor took everything that came at him admirably well, but everything that came at him was…  a lot, for anyone but especially for a teenager. Nicky hadn’t even noticed how on-guard he was throughout the journey until he sees him now with his guard lowered. And Hermie… Nicky wouldn’t claim to know them well, but it was hard to miss how miserable they seemed to be during the journey. That misery isn’t gone, but they’re actually smiling for once, genuine happiness and amusement instead of smirks and cruel grins, and it's a nice change of pace.

Nicky has a lot of regrets about how he raised Taylor—or, more accurately, how he didn’t raise him at all—but in moments like these, where he sees Taylor being a kid and being happy, he feels like he can make up for it.

Then there are a couple paintings that catch Nicky's eye.

Two landscapes, side by side.

The first one is dated as being painted in 2014.

It's a sunset and its reflection on the water. The sky is a blend of blue, purple, pink, orange, and yellowish hues, all getting brighter once they reach the sun in the centre, a half-circle cut off by the water, and a reflection in it distorted by ripples.

It's pretty…

And despite the sky looking like this painting once more…

It's nostalgic.

The painting beside it was made in 2039.

It's not a sunset, because those didn't exist for a while. The sky is red. Just red. Bright red. And there's a black dot in the middle. There's grass, which is also painted black. Very two-toned.

It's… it's weird. Well, not weird. It's normal. The sky looked like that for a long time. Hell, Taylor only remembers this sky. Give it twenty-odd years and this'll be his form of nostalgia.

It's not like Nicky was here often, or… at all, but he remembers how icky it felt to see the sky change. What he'd known for most of his childhood when he stepped outdoors was just… gone.

Ah, maybe Taylor feels that way now…

Sunsets and sunrises and starry skies are beautiful, but to him they're unfamiliar.

Maybe Nicky will have to show him the beauty of it sometime.

Him and Hermie.

His eyes drift back to the first painting.

2014… the person painting this couldn't have known what was to come, or how the sky would be stolen from everyone and replaced with a red so bloody and dark.

2014. Nicky must have been seven?

Seven years old.

Oh.

When Nicholas Foster was seven years old, he would come home after school, and sit with his mom, and wait for his dad to come home from protecting the world from bad guys. (As if. Nicky knows better than to believe that now.)

…The sky may have shifted when Nicky was twelve, but his whole world shifted when Nick Close was seven.

It was the year his mom died.

And he remembers it so vividly despite it being intertwined with another set of memories from another seven year old boy.

His world shattered, but it's not like anyone would have known, he didn't quite know it himself until it was no longer worth it to grieve.

But years after years later, well, he knew it was bad.

In fact, those five years were more like a dissociative haze than anything.

And they weren't even real. Not in this timeline anyway.

But still…

Hm.

Taylor is older than he was back then, but his world has shifted too. For the better, Nicky would say, but not without bloodshed.

… Maybe Nicky should check in with him? Or maybe that's going too far—Cass probably has it under control. She usually does. And if Nicky makes things worse, then, well…

Anyway.

Nicky takes a step back and turns away from the paintings. That's enough reminiscence for the next five years at least.

Time to return to—

Oh, fuck.

Where did they go?

The first room of the gallery contains mostly modern pieces from semi-local artists, before branching off into two different rooms, labelled by colour rather than any other relevant descriptor. He has no idea whether Hermie and Taylor would be more inclined towards chartreuse or vermillion.

To: T SWIFT 😎

hey where’d you guys go lol

Perfect. Very casual, which Nicky is, because he’s not worried about the kids wandering off at all. Yeah, Cass’ll kill him if anything bad happens to either of them, but nothing bad will happen, because it’s been 15 minutes max and they’re in an art museum. It’s fine.

Taylor texts him back almost immediately.

From: T SWIFT 😎

we’re at the sculpture garden┌ (★ｏ☆)┘

They're at the what ? Nicky prays to whatever gods might exist that that’s a part of the gallery and not a completely separate location that Hermie and Taylor managed to wander off to. The use of ‘we’ is reassuring at least. If nothing else, Taylor and Hermie are presumably together.

Nicky has to backtrack to the lobby to grab a map and the girl who sold them tickets definitely notices that he no longer has two kids with him, so he ducks back into the next room as quickly as possible and refuses to make eye contact. Luckily, the map marks a sculpture garden in the central courtyard of the building, and Nicky can navigate to it easily enough.

He hears Hermie before he sees either of them, shrilly calling out to Taylor that he ‘probably shouldn’t be climbing that’. Nicky picks up his pace, following his voice through the winding paths curving between the larger sculptures.

And finally, he turns a corner and sees a giant golf ball.

Made out of smaller golf balls.

And Taylor is holding onto it and trying to lift himself up, but he can't get a proper grip.

Nicky swiftly shoves the map in his pocket and scoops him up.

"Hey!" Taylor whines, "Put me down!"

"Fine, but let's try not to get kicked out of here, alright?"

“If it wasn’t supposed to be climbed, they shouldn’t have made it so climbable!” Taylor complains, and Nicky takes a few steps away and turns around for good measure to keep Taylor from lunging towards it again once he sets him down.

“It was not climbable,” Hermie says, appearing over Nicky’s shoulder, “you were having a distinctly difficult time climbing it.”

“Because you’re all a bunch of narcs and wouldn’t let me try!” Taylor whines, kicking half heartedly at Hermie’s feet. Hermie steps away and out of reach.

“If we were narcs, I believe we’d be telling security instead of trying to deal with the situation ourselves,” Hermie says, circling around behind Taylor and pushing him towards another entrance to the building. “For completely unrelated reasons, let us move quickly but casually in this direction, hm?”

Nicky glances over his shoulder just in time to see an irate looking woman exchanging words with a security guard. She glances over in their direction, while Nicky quickly throws an arm around Taylor’s shoulder and forces him to pick up the pace.

“Wh—huh? Where are we—? What are we doing! Hey!” Taylor squawks, glancing indignantly between Hermie and Nicky.

Security does not chase them into the building, and Hermie lets out a relieved sigh once they’re back inside.

“We should leave,” Hermie says, patting Taylor’s arm as they release him.

“But we haven’t seen everything yet!” Taylor complains. “And what was all that about!?”

“Trying to keep you—“ Hermie pokes Taylor’s forehead, “—from getting in trouble with art museum security. I want your first run in with the law to be for something more exciting than trying to climb a giant golf ball.”

“Or, here’s an idea, you keep out of trouble with the law entirely!” Nicky suggests, waving his hand for added flourish. Hermie and Taylor both look unimpressed.

“I’ve already had my run-ins with the law,” Taylor says in a stage-whisper. “Remember my illegal anime torrents? My cool sexy Home Alone party?”

“… the one with all your anime cardboard cutouts?”

“No!” Taylor squawks, glancing at Nicky. “The one with all the totally real sexy women! That were not made out of cardboard!”

“Right…” Hermie says, rolling their eyes as they straighten up. “God you’re so lame. Let's go?”

“Can we at least go to the gift shop first?” Taylor pleads, at first to Hermie, and then to Nicky. He latches onto his sleeve, tugging at it. “Please?”

“Oh hell yeah, kiddo, you think I’m leaving this place without a souvenir?” Nicky says, chuckling. “I’ll get you something too if anything catches your eye? Both of you?”

Hermie perks up a bit, giving Nicky an odd look.

“I don’t want anything,” they say quickly, ducking their head as they start to lead the way towards the gift shop.

The shop is full of prints and art supplies and souvenir t-shirts, but Taylor and Hermie gravitate toward the jewelry section fairly quickly, and Nicky follows.

There's necklaces, bracelets, rings and earrings, some of which are beneath a glass covering, while others are on stands out in the open.

“Hey!” Taylor whisper-yells, “if you’re not gonna let me climb the golf ball, I’m not letting you steal jewelry from the gift shop!”

Nicky glances over just in time to see Hermie dejectedly slide their hands into their pockets.

“I’m not stealing anything,” Hermie snaps quietly. “Narc.”

“You don’t even wear jewelry! Other than your earrings which you just shapeshift anyways!”

“These aren’t shapeshifted,” Hermie says, tapping a finger to their earrings.

“Oh, those are cute—wait, those are mine! Come on!”

Hermie snickers, holding up their hands placatingly as they back away to another section of the store. Taylor follows after them, looking more playful than genuinely angry about Hermie’s theft. Nicky looks over the place where Hermie was standing, and is relieved to find all the jewelry seems to still be in place on the counter. Hermie would probably just double down and start stealing more things if Nicky had to confront them about it.

As he scans the jewelry case for any missing items, Nicky's eyes land on a set of silver hoop earrings beneath the glass casing, with small glass beads alternating in black and white along the bottom.

There's a charm in the centre of the hoop that says A in cursive, and in the hoop beside it, it says B.

"Excuse me," Nicky says to a worker walking past. "Are these customizable?" he asks, pointing to the hoops. "The letters, I mean."

"Yep! Are you interested in buying a set?" They ask, pulling out a key, presumably to unlock the case.

"Ah, yeah, could I get them with the letter C?"

"Sure thing. Is that all you'll be buying?"

"No," he glances at Taylor and Hermie, who seem to be testing out pens in the art supply section, "I'm not done looking yet."

"Alright, I'll keep them aside,” they say with a polite customer-service smile.

"Thanks,” Nicky says, ducking away to check on the kids.

“… going over the same lines over and over again? It’s not an efficient use of your time or ink!” Taylor is saying, gesturing at an unimpressed Hermie with a package of pens.

“Hey, kids,” Nicky interrupts, ruffling Taylor’s hair. “Did you two pick out what you want?”

“I don’t want anything,” Hermie emphasises, glaring sulkily at the sketchbook Taylor takes from the shelf to offer to Nicky along with the pens.

“Since Hermie doesn’t want anything, can I get two things?” Taylor requests with an exaggerated wink.

“Yeah, that’s fine…? Why are you w—“

Taylor shushes him loudly as he pushes him towards the counter. Hermie rolls their eyes as they follow along, dour mood back in place.

Nicky waves over the worker he talked to earlier as he approaches. They give him the same tight-lipped smile as before.

“Are you ready to buy now?”

“Yep! These too, and uh—“ Nicky taps a nail against the glass above a necklace. “Can I get that too?“

“With the—“

“Yeah, that letter’s fine, yeah, thanks,” Nicky says, and they nod.

“Great! I’ll get that out for you and then I can ring you up right over there,” they say, gesturing over to the cash register. Nicky nods, and heads to the indicated register. Taylor trails behind him, while Hermie paces the area nearby.

The worker retrieves the jewelry and rings him up. Nicky pays and slips the small jewelry boxes into the zipper pocket of his jacket, before handing the sketchbook and pens to Taylor.

“Thanks, Dad!” Taylor says cheerfully, before ducking away to retrieve Hermie.

Once he’s sure both the kids are in tow, he leads the way out of the museum and towards the car. Hermie takes their seat in the back without any pushing and shoving from Taylor this time.

“So, guess you kids’ll be wanting to go back home now?” Nicky prompts as he starts the car.

“No!” Taylor says, almost before Nicky can even finish the sentence. “I mean, maybe we can, uh—“

“I’m kind of hungry,” Hermie says in a bored tone.

“Yes! Me too!” Taylor agrees quickly. “Can we get dinner before we go home?”

“Yeah, sure, of course!” Nicky agrees, a little bit glad to have an excuse to spend more time with his kid.  “Where do you guys wanna go? There’s a good pizza place—“

“I’ll kill you,” Hermie snaps from the back seat. Nicky glances back at them, meeting their frantic eyes. Their human disguise seems to be slipping a little, scarred skin an agitated shade of red and horns beginning to push through.

“Wow, jeez, Hermie, did not know you hated pizza that much!” Taylor says.

“Right—right, yeah, my totally normal distaste for a genre of food that totally isn’t built off of any…” Hermie trails off into angry mumbles.

“So, um, not pizza?” Nicky interjects, glancing at Taylor. He seems just as uncomfortable with the proceedings as Nicky is.

“Whatever,” Hermie says, slumping back in their seat and waving their hand dismissively. “Get whatever you want, I’m not—I’ll eat at the house.”

“You were the one who suggested—“

“McDonalds!” Taylor cuts in. “Can we go get McDonalds?”

Nicky glances in the rearview just in time to see Hermie’s nose wrinkle with distaste, but they don’t say anything.

“Yeah, sure, McDonalds works, we can just get drive-thru.”

“Or… I mean, we can eat in?“ Taylor offers.

“Really soak in that McDonalds ambiance. Love it,” Hermie says, sounding very much like they don’t love it at all.

“Exactly!” Taylor agrees, oblivious.

“Sounds good, I think we passed a McDonalds on the way here.”

"I'll place the order!" Taylor says, and a few seconds later he passes the phone to Hermie. When he gets it back, there's a little "that's it?" which gets no response.

"What do you want, Dad?"

"Mmm, I'll have a Big Mac, large fries, and Coca Cola."

"Done!" Taylor confirms with a definitive clack of his nail against his phone screen, before sliding his phone back into his pocket.

With the order complete, Taylor turns the radio back up and starts singing along once again. The Disney songs Nicky would usually find grating aren’t so bad with Taylor singing over them.

Three and a half songs later, they pull into the parking lot of the chosen McDonalds. Taylor leads the way in with an enthusiasm that Hermie definitely isn’t matching, picking up their order and sliding into a suspiciously sticky booth seat by the window. Nicky sits down beside him, while Hermie slides into the seat across from them with an expression of thinly veiled disgust. Taylor cheerfully hands out their food, still humming along to the last song they heard over the radio.

Taylor is immediately tearing into his happy meal, digging through it in search of, presumably, the toy. Nicky’s suspicions are confirmed as he lets out a victorious little laugh, and pulls a blue and grey plastic shape out of the box. As he tears away the perforated packaging with his claws, the shape reveals itself to be none other than a cheap plastic Hatsune Miku. Taylor beams as he sets it in pride of place at the head of the table to watch them eat.

His enthusiasm is infectious, and Nicky can’t help but smile into the first bite of his burger. Hermie doesn’t seem to pick up on it though, continuing to pick at their fries unhappily.

“Is that all you’re gonna eat?” Nicky asks, gesturing at their small, greasy bag of fries.

“Mmhmm. I’m easily pleased,” Hermie holds out a fry that is both floppy and browned, “and nothing pleases me more than this.”

“I know you can lie better than that,” Taylor says, kicking at Hermie’s leg from across the table.

“I have nothing to gain by convincing you that I’m having an unsurpassed dining experience here at this McDonald’s,” Hermie says.

“You could have suggested something else!” Taylor says, pouting.

“I didn’t have anything else to offer, especially in the face of your enthusiasm,” Hermie sighs, waving dismissively. “Who would I be to deprive you of your beloved grease-scented Hatsune Miku?”

Taylor grins, glancing over at the aforementioned Miku.

“That’s nice of you, Hermie,” Nicky offers. Hermie’s expression instantly drops back into annoyance.

“Not really. I’m just trying to get this evening over with, no need for me to draw out choosing a restaurant… if you can call McDonalds a restaurant.”

“You’re the one who suggested getting something to eat?” Nicky teases. Hermie tosses a french fry in his direction, where it falls to the table several inches away from Nicky. 

Taylor picks it up and eats it. Hermie frowns, argument forgotten in the face of their disgust.

“What?” Taylor squawks. “It’s clean! It’s not like I’m eating off the floor!”

“I would not count on it being clean, ever. Try as these unfortunate minimum-wage McDonald’s employees might, there’s some level of muck that cannot be removed from these tables.”

“Daaad!” Taylor whines, bumping into his side. “Back me up here!”

“Sorry kiddo, I’m with Hermie on this one,” Nicky says.

“Wah! Betrayal!” Taylor laments, elbowing Nicky. Nicky laughs and ruffles his hair, and a bit of Hermie’s annoyance fades in favour of  half-hearted amusement.

Eventually, Taylor starts rambling about school, and then the plot of some anime he watched that Nicky has already forgotten the title of. Hermie finishes their fries in silence for the most part, seemingly content to listen to Taylor. Nicky hms and ohs and ahs in all the right places, and hands Taylor the rest of his fries after he catches him eyeing them. Once they’re all done eating and Hermie has cleared off the table, Taylor’s enthusiasm begins to fade in the face of exhaustion, even if he doesn’t seem willing to admit it.

Before Nicky can stand up to leave the booth, Taylor tugs at his sleeve.

“Wait! Dad, I—" Taylor retrieves the Miku figure from its place on the table. “I want you to have this. Because you took us to the museum, and bought us stuff from the gift shop, and got us McDonalds, and it was fun!”

Ah. Nicky never expected to be so emotionally affected by a cheap plastic figure of Hatsune Miku that smells like gasoline and cardboard, but fatherhood does strange things to people. He extends his hand for it almost reverently, and Taylor places it in his palm.

“I… are you sure?” Nicky asks, gazing down at the vacant stare of McDonalds Miku. The colours are slightly out of place over the moulding.

"Yeah! It's something for you to uh—" he chuckles, and it sounds a little nervous, "I just want you to have it."

Taylor averts his gaze, blushing a little.

"Alright, kiddo, I'll keep it safe," Nicky says, tucking it into his shirt pocket and ruffling Taylor's hair. He's grinning and biting his lower lip. With demon fangs, there's no explanation needed for the cuts and scabs, though he may need to invest in some lip balm to keep that at bay.

"Home time?" Nicky asks.

Taylor nods, droopy-eyed, and Nicky thinks he hears Hermie let out what seems to be a sigh of relief.

The drive back is a lot quieter, with Taylor sitting in the back with his head rested on Hermie’s shoulder. Hermie stays perfectly still, and glares at Nicky every time he takes a corner too sharply or stops too suddenly. Then again, they tend to be doing a lot of glaring in general, so it’s hard to say if there’s a cause-and-effect relationship there.

By the time Nicky is pulling up to the Swift household, Taylor seems to have fully fallen asleep against Hermie. Hermie isn’t asleep, but they are blinking blearily out the window, clearly well on their way. Nicky can barely tear his eyes away from the picture they make in the rearview.

It’s dark enough that it’s hard to get an actual picture on his phone, but the sun hasn’t fully set and the glow of the streetlights gives him enough light to get a decent, if slightly indecipherable picture. He’ll have to edit it a bit later, but Hermie is finally directing their attention back to him and he knows he has to get Taylor to bed.

“I can carry him up to his room,” Nicky says softly, and Hermie blinks the sleep out of their eyes and nods slightly, careful to avoid bumping their chin against Taylor’s horns.

Nicky passes Hermie his keys—Cass gave him a spare set for emergencies—and carefully scoops up Taylor.

It's a little unnerving carrying Taylor up the steps in one arm and without holding a railing, but he does so, and Nicky can immediately pinpoint Taylor's room from the Miku poster on the door.

He opens the door and steps inside, taking in that this is nearly exactly what he would have expected. Opening the door only to be immediately stared down by the unblinking gaze of several anime characters littering every wall and shelf should have been unnerving, but it’s so Taylor that Nicky can’t bring himself to mind.

Nicky places Taylor down in his bed and he whines with a small "ow." Right, they'd been walking a lot today, so it must be a pain flare-up. Speaking of which, Nicky notices Taylor's cane already hung on the wall hook beside his bed—Hermie must have brought it in.

Taylor whines again, reaching out for Nicky, who pulls the blanket up and over him, tucking him in. He seems to calm down at that, and Nicky leans down to plant a kiss on his forehead. Taylor smiles and rolls over, wrapping his arms around a body pillow that Nicky had not noticed earlier, and a part of him wishes he still hadn't.

"Long day?"

Nicky whips his head around to see Cass standing in the doorway in her pyjamas, illuminated by the now-pink colour-changing LED lights along the baseboards of Taylor's wall.

"Yeah, you could say that," Nicky whispers, following Cass out of Taylor's room, and slowly shutting the door behind him.

"Thanks for getting them home safe,” Cass says, wandering away from Taylor’s door to lean against the bannister across the hall.

“Yeah,” Nicky says, nodding. “Yeah, of course.”

“Where did you guys go?" She asks, folding her arms.

"Art museum, and then McDonalds,” Nicky replies, desperately hoping that it’s the right answer.

"Everything went well?"

Nicky briefly reflects on Hermie’s violent reaction to arcades and pizza and their collective near-miss with museum security, but it all turned out okay, so he smiles and nods.

"Yeah, everything was great. Taylor got a happy meal."

"Taylor always likes getting happy meals," Cass says with a fond smile. "The portions are too small for him. He just does it for the toys."

"Yeah," Nicky chuckles, "actually…"

He pulls the toy out of his pocket—still intact, thankfully—and presents it to her. "He gave me this one."

"Keep it safe," she says, and it's light-hearted, but there's a little flicker in her expression that offers a threat.

"Of course," Nicky says, carefully sliding it back into his pocket. "I got something for him too. From the gift shop. Oh, actually—"

Nicky pulls out one of the two jewelry boxes, and opens it the tiniest bit to make sure it's the right one before handing it to Cass.

"I, um, got this for you."

She takes it, and opens it, and her eyes widen. Nicky thinks he hears a small gasp. "Nicky…"

"Uh—I saw them, and I know your style, so."

Cass looks up at him, and she's got concern written on her face.

Is it not her style?

"Nicky, this is, um, really sweet… but, ah, you know we can't be like that anymore," she says, gesturing with her hands, referencing a relationship of the past.

Oh, fuck.

"That—that's not what I meant by it!" Nicky says, a little too loudly, and Cass shushes him, which makes this even more mortifying. "Sorry," he whispers. "Just… I—I meant it as a thank you. For. Um," he takes a deep breath, and continues, "for letting me back into Taylor's life, and—and yours, I guess, oh, and Hermie's too. I—I guess. Yeah."

Cass's concern turns into a soft smile, and she leans in, and kisses him on the cheek, and Nicky hopes his blush isn't as easy to spot as Taylor's, because if it were, he'd be red as a tomato.

"Taylor's really happy to have you here," she says, and her gaze makes Nicky feel as though she's witness to all of his vulnerabilities, and fears, and feelings, and then she's backing away, and saying, "I am too."

And then she's opening the door to her room, and then she's gone. Nicky is left staring after her for several seconds before he shakes his head and makes his way down the stairs.

Nicky doesn’t even notice Hermie lurking by the doorway until he nearly bumps into them on the way out.

“Shit—uh, hey, Hermie…?” Nicky greets, and Hermie glares at him.

“Why did you take me along?” Hermie asks without preamble. “I’m used to Taylor dragging me along, but you were the one to insist I come. Why?”

“I wouldn’t say I insisted,” Nicky protests, looking away. “More like I offered. I just assumed that since you were around, you’d like to come?”

“Well, you know what they say about assumptions,” Hermie says haughtily, dipping their head a bit to glare at the doorway.

“Alright, jeez, I won’t invite you next time,” Nicky says.

“Right.”

Hermie nods, but a little bit of the fight leaves their tone, as if they weren’t expecting that reaction. Nicky doesn’t have the faintest idea of what they were expecting.

“It wasn’t—“ Hermie huffs, frustrated. “It was… fine. Taylor had fun.”

Nicky is relieved to hear that, actually.

“You think so?”

Hermie hums an affirmative.

“He’s… glad you’re around now,” Hermie says, and the sentence trails off as if they have something more to say, but they leave it there.

“Right. Yeah, I—I’m glad to be around,” Nicky agrees, and it feels uncomfortably familiar to his earlier conversation with Cass. He almost feels like he should be asking for Hermie’s permission to spend time with Taylor too, but that’s ridiculous.

“Right,” Hermie echoes, and they close their hand around the door knob, swinging it open and gesturing for Nicky to leave. “If that’s all…”

“Yeah, yeah, see you later, Hermie,” Nicky waves awkwardly as he steps out of the house. “I’ll—I’ll ask if you want to come along next time?”

“Mm. You do that,” Hermie agrees, and they tug the door shut.

Rude, but fairly in line with everything he’s seen from Hermie today. They’re weirdly abrasive with Nicky in a way he can’t quite make sense of, but he supposes it’s not really his job to. Honestly, he’s a bit relieved to have an excuse to not bring Hermie along every time he wants to spend time with Taylor. He can’t really see Hermie agreeing to come along all that often. Either way, it wasn’t all bad having them along. Taylor seemed to enjoy their company if nothing else.

Nicky returns to his car, sitting down in the driver's seat and pulling out the remaining jewelry box. He opens it, and brings the necklace up to his neck, struggling with the clasp, but managing to secure it in the end. He tucks the pendant under his shirt, keeping it close to his heart. Hopefully it won't get too hot there.

Then, he pulls his phone out of his pocket. He opens up his photos to the most recent picture, and sends it to Cass before setting it as his lock screen. It’s not a great picture, but he’s sure he’ll have plenty of other opportunities to take cute pictures of Taylor in the future. The thought has him smiling the whole way home. 

[0perfectimperfections0]

Hi fellow doll, I hope you're doing fine. I've been quite busy lately, college and life in general have been kicking my ass, so I was forced to take a step back from social media for a while to try to contain the chaos.

Firstly, I'd like to share a fun fact with you! I don't know if you're aware but did you know that Lou's Mansion has a Pool? You can see it more clearly in the Mansion's Concept Designs/Art on this site:

•https://www.claytonstillwell.com/ugly-dolls#23

However, the real reason for this ask is to present a possible answer/theory in regards to how the doll-sized phones came to be in the world of your stories (you can tell this is still related to our chat on Wattpad).

Recently, I came across the images you're seeing on Pinterest. They're Wide/Aerial Views of the Institute of Perfection and one thing that immediately stood out to me is that Giant Eye-Catching Dome behind the TV.

I mean what's its purpose, why is it even there to begin with and what's inside of it? I've been thinking about this for a while and would like to hear your thoughts about it as well, if you're willing to share them.

By any chance, have you seen the movie Wreck-it Ralph? There was a part where the villain enters the code of the game he's in and I think the Dome's purpose could follow a similar, if not equal, vein.

Now that I think about it, Lou and Vanellope's circunstances are almost identical, trapped in the same place for years without the option to leave, simply because of who they are and the traits they were born with, but didn't choose to have.

Sorry, I let my mind run on tangent there for a while, it wanders frequently which makes it hard to keep track of my line of thought.

To circle back to the main topic of discussion, what if the Dome is a Central Station of the Institute, like a Panel or Center for Command Control (or Command Control Center)? CCC for short? Ok, I'll stop trying to be funny...

Perhaps it could be a subroutine of the factory's software, a program linked to its network and wifi that contains all guidelines and rules that govern the Institute and must be followed and executed to keep it functional - a blueprint if you will - and is in charge of all commands, protocols, activities and operations being compiled and run by its machinery, such as the doll-scanner, the robots, the washing machine, the recycling, the Gauntlet plus the mechanical baby and dog and the Portal, just to name a few.

This means that it'd also take care of overseeing the integrity and performance of said machinery as well as its maintenance. It'd even be responsible for generating clouds and the artificial weather because apparently weather is still a thing, even though the Institute is inside of a factory.

I wonder if this subroutine would be run by an AI or simply an intelligent system/computer program. This world's version of Siri? 🤣

Or maybe I'm greatly exaggerating its function/letting my imagination run wild and it literally only gives Electricity for TV and Institute. Where was I going with this? /were we again?

Morever, it could be a storage unit that contains all collected, analysed and reviewed data regarding the inhabitants of the Institute and their responses, physical or emotional, to certain pre-determined stimuli.

It could also have a list of the factory's Perfection Standards: what consists/constitutes a Perfect Doll / product, its traits...

what can go to the market and which flaws/imperfections can't be ignored/overlooked and have to go to the recycling immediately, kinda like separating fruit/food

To sum up, it's the Institute's "rulebook", but instead of being specifically made for the prototype, it's more expansive and focuses on the Institute as a whole.

After the events of the movie, dolls with engineer role job created phones with recicled parts dangerous/turned the recycling into a good thing/while recycling was turned of and parts are human sized, plenty to spare and create phone since dolls come back now, have free time to assemble the parts and construct them and connected them to the signals/frequency emitted by the dome or they hack/steal or find out the password/'hijack' the signals🤣, use it to make them connect with each other but can't enter the dome without proper authorizations/permissions

Fun fact #2: Lou animatronic, would be a hipocrite if he called the Uglydolls "Ugly" has never seen a Mirror before

•https://www.indigobluepencil.com/ugly

Scroll almost to the middle (pre-planned concepts: dome by TV and washing machine, Big baby, Lou, Mandy, Tuesday and Kitty, Victoria, Perfection Council/of Dolls=board of investors directors reference)

•https://www.scottfassett.com/uglydolls-gallery

Had to restart Two Times... I hope you found this ask both entertaining and informative. Hopefully it'll give you Inspiration for your stories...

Okay, I had to do quite a bit of research and asked someone who knows a lot more about computers than I do.

So, I do agree that the dome has an electronic purpose. It really surprises me that STX animated an entire dome within the Institute and literally spoke nothing of it or what's inside of it. Like, seriously, it's huge and can't just be empty on the inside.

My theory, after some research, is that the inside of the dome is essentially a hard drive computer tower. For you younger folk who weren't raised in a 90's home, here's what I'm talking about:

These things right here used to be what would get hooked up to older Dell/Windows computers. The ones that weighed, like, 50 pounds and took up an entire desk.

Instead of a dvd player (which I didn't get one until maybe 8 years old) I would stick my Kidz Bop cd or movie into that slot at the top and watch the movie on the computer with Video Player.

Count your blessings.

But this is what I believe is inside that dome. These things are what holds the CPU (central processing unit), GPU (graphic processing unit), and stores the memory, data, audio, and everything of the computer.

@natalie-the-writer and I have a running fanon that the company is older. The technology is older, the building is older, and everything is set in a pretty retro time period. So, this hard drive tower is connected to those bulky take-up-all-the-space-on-the-desk-computers.

The GPU in this system is also what control the day/night cycle in the Institute and the weather. It essentially simulates a troposphere and an environment that makes the dolls comfortable and prepared for the Big World.

The CPU is how the data is transferred. Info from the robots is controlled and processed, the Individualization scanners are monitored, the portal is opened and closed, the TV runs, and the holographic tutorials Moxy and her friends see in the beginning are kept on, all of it.

It basically functions as the brain of the Institute, but the sole controller and monitor of it is the CEO (Greyson Everett).

I also like to think that Lou's microchip (another fanon thought between Natalie and I) is also monitored via this hard drive tower. Any information that Lou learns and processes is sent into separate files on the computers back in the company building.

This is why in my Shell-Shock series, when Lou's emotions go south, the Institute begins to get windy when he's hyperventilating or rains when he cries. The ground trembles when he has body tremors and the lights flicker when his powers are used. He is literally connected to the whole Institute because his microchip and its data accidentally grow and manifest themselves into the files of the other Institute functions. His programming basically goes rogue and infects the Institute system like a virus.

I'm veering toward the explanation that results in Lou being the first successful form of Artificial Intelligence. But, for the moment, he is basically acting like a virus and it's not until he learns to control this new system he's connected to that it stops becoming a deadly thing.

[theresa-of-liechtenstein]

of course basically a year to the day of becoming tita conductor's principal second violin i come to the realization that if tita conductor and i have anything, it's the music department copy room

i am making my merry way to shoot the breeze with the concertmaster when i hear a very familiar voice calling my name from behind me

i have DEFINITELY mis-imagined tita conductor’s voice in the ivovanhovedongiovannicore arts building before so i keep walking towards the rehearsal room. but i hear my name again so i turn around and there’s tita conductor outside the copy room

she says “i am doing things in here” awkwardly and points at the copy room. and then she adds, as if as an afterthought, “come help”

predictably, i assent and step inside to help—only to find that twenty minutes before rehearsal is scheduled to begin, tita conductor has not yet finished labeling folders for seat placement and adding parts to them 😭

she asks me to verify my schedule and lets me know that the new first year i met the week prior will be my co-principal and take over when i have to leave for class which i agree with wholeheartedly

i put my things down and am like “okay what next” and she says “hold on don’t talk to me real quick i need to think”

this isn’t an unfamiliar move to me so i’m like okay cool and stand there until she’s finished having her think

she has me start on the first violin folders and those aren’t hard, i make sure all the right numbered parts go with the right numbered folders and then stack them on the table and await marching orders

to set the scene, we are both working furiously and quietly. i am putting numbered parts into the proper folders as fast as she can label them with numbers. at times i am literally on my hands and knees dealing with folders spread out on the floor 💀

i notice that i’m short two copies of a piece in the second violins (THERE ARE 12 OF US.)

i ask tita conductor for two more copies but take the paper out from the wrong side of the machine

i say “um tita why is there a viola copy in this stack of seconds that just came out of the machine” and she takes a look at it and replies “because i am a human disaster” THE SCREAM I ALMOST SCRUMPT

FINALLY sort out the damn issue get back on the floor and finish putting the folders together. i straighten up, put them on the table, and start laying out the viola folders.

quoth tita conductor from above me, “welcome to my world” girl, i have been living in it for almost exactly one year to the day 😭

we finish that almost at the start of rehearsal and then i bring my stuff to the rehearsal room before returning to the copy room to relocate the whole damn stack of string parts. must have been something like 38 folders total if i remember correctly

i manage to forget my hat in the copy room in my haste but am able to get it back because tita conductor ended rehearsal, opened a room for my quartet, then shut herself in her office to watch the vice presidential debate. but all’s well that ends well

anyway the moral of the story is that if you’re weird enough about a specific person who is a bit further up the authority gradient than you to the point that you’ll willingly help them, they will remember that and even if you’re mediocre in terms of skill you can still get far in terms of being their favorite person to ask for help. and scene.

[kendrixtermina]

Gaza is NOT totalitarian

One thing you always hear from Zionists or even unaffiliated random westerners who know little about the conflict as a reason why the war is, if not completely justified, then at least tragically unavoidable, is that Gaza is a totalitarian regime & they’re either all indoctrinated to hate Israelis, or get portrayed as passive victims with no agency that need to be „liberated“

But over the last weeks we have seen a lot of scenes of life out of gaza and i have also read many books & watched documentaries to further educate myself and there is just no trace of that anywhere.

No big posters of leaders in classroom, no symbols & logos everywhere, no political phrases in people’s everyday speech, many of the people in videos seem totally a-political & lament that their family had nothing to do with the resistance or the war. They spend more time talking about friggin olive trees and embroidery than politics.

You could glean a bunch about their culture from the videos – extended families live together in big shared houses, they are very affectionate with children, they value community, the sport they tend to be obsessed about is Football…

Saudi arabia, for example, bans booze, art, music & forces everyone to wear burqas – that’s just not the case in Palestine. There are woman doctors & journalists, a wealth of poets & painters. You can buy booze grown in the west bank. You see the occasional lady without hijab, like Bisan often has her hair out, which tells me the ones that DO wear it do so because they want to, which is their good right. There were several Christian churches apparently operating just fine inside Gaza, until Israel bombed them.

I heard that 4th way esoterism was influenced by Sufism which is an off-shoot of Islam, & seeing the religious mantras people cited I could see the relationship - they said stuff like they should trust in God's destiny, that God alone is enough for them etc. it has that same "accept what is & surrender to the universe, real strength comes from contact with divinity & then you need nothing else" vibe - though of course the esoterists believe less in a personal god & more in a panentheist "Unity Of Being". Ppl used to make a lot of bogeyman talk out of Islam meaning "submission" but now I think it's probably meant in a "surrender to the universe & accept what is" kinda way & that ppl ended up projecting the authoritarian character of Christianity onto it. Islam is alot more de-central & everyone does their own thing, innit? I remember that when Muslims hit a certain percentage in Germany they thought of introducing Islam classes to school (in addition to the Catholic & Lutheran classes they have - atheists & ppl of other religions get "ethics" instead which is basically moral philosophy) but one problem they ran into is that there's no central authority to get a course plan from. There is no such thing as a muslim pope. There are extremists who ARE authoritarian, like Saudi arabia (as there are of all religions; They're all the same, rly, it's probably down to some flaw in human brains) but that doesn't mean everyone's like that. You might pt down the authoritarianism there to Saudi Arabia being an absolutist monarchy...

(Of course, a lot of less educated westerners don’t know that the kind of extremism seen in the Saudis & Taliban is actually a fairly recent movement that was able to take over due to the ME being destabilized in the cold war… the area was once stable, organized & well-educated.)

Some of the people covering the war like Bisan, Plestia, Saleh etc. were normal instagrammers before, doing normal instagram things, not a hint of politics to be found.

I also recall this post by a gay ude saying that yeah it’s not super welcoming but there’s not really systematic persecution – your family might kick you out or quietly tolerate it while wanting nothing to do with it… so just like the more religious parts of the USA basically.

Also, I’d like to note that even if gaza WERE totalitarian, people in totalitarian countries don’t cease to be human and their lives don’t become worthless. Not everyone is a True Believer, most are just scared out of their mind. You need to read „Jugend Ohne Gott“, you need to watch „Das Boot“, you need to listen to stories of people who escaped from North Korea. Maybe if it’s easier to epathize with a fictional depiction, read 1984 or The Handmaid’s tale.

So, I consider myself German because that’s where I grew up & the only culture I have any emotional attachment to, but my parents are Cuban. Cuba is a fairly „soft“ totalitarian state in that dissenters are „only“ beaten & their job prospects ruined, not outright killed like in North Korea or under the Nazis, but even so, my grandma still rips up all papers before throwing them away because spies would go through people’s trash, and my parents needed to be told several times by friends that it’s OK to criticize politicians in public before they would feel comfortable riffing on then.chancellor Kohl.

Note, however, that people DID mock the Castros in private, among trusted family members. There are tons of jokes mocking them. Heck, even mocked Hitler behind closed doors – they used to call them Flüsterwitze („whisper jokes“) because if you say them out loud they shoot you. Just to illustrate how people trapped in totalitarian states are human.

Even in the early 2000s when I was still pretty young, I didn’t buy that it’s OK to kill Iraqis just because there is a Dictator. The citizens are victims, and unlike the leadership they are poor & can’t flee. What if someone invaded Cuba and killed all my cousins just to punish the bad guy opressing them? That din’t seem fair. They said I’d understand when I’m older but all I understood is what utter bullshit that war was.

We’ve heard so many Palestinians talking about their plight and there is hardly anyone speaking of repression or totalitarianism, including peole who left the country. (In stark contrast to Cubans, North Koreans or people who fled the Nazis, who don’t shut up about how much it sucked) There is not zero repression (like an incident where Hamas got Fatah-affiliated workers fired), but the same can be said of Israel or even the west – McCarthyism or the current withhunt against pro-palestine ppl.

Meanwhile we have that creepy song of Israeli children calling for murder, and many videos by Israelis saying they were indoctrinated. One person mentioned being outright told that arabs were their „enemy“, while two arab boys were sitting in her class. I also hear that many Israelis go most of their lives without even interacting with a Palestinian outside of military service.

So, yeah, I think it’s pretty clear who the indoctrinated ones are.