#i like interacting with people and the fast paced kitchen environments

[starswallowingsea]

i know its normal to like. tell your parents that you're moving and got a new job but why do i feel like i have to ask permission to fucking. apply for jobs outside of michigan

[sensinovas-blog]

Why Install Motion Sensor Lights at Home

In today's fast-paced world, energy efficiency, convenience, and security are more critical than ever. One solution that meets all these needs is the motion sensor light. These lights offer smart, automated lighting that turns on when someone enters a room or space and turns off when no motion is detected. In this blog, we’ll cover what motion sensor lights are, why you should install them at home, and the top benefits they provide.

What Is a Motion Sensor Light?

A motion sensor light is a lighting fixture with a built-in sensor that detects movement. When the sensor detects motion, the light automatically turns on. These sensors often use infrared or microwave technology to detect heat signatures or movement in the surrounding area. Once no further motion is detected, the light turns off after a set period, saving energy. It can also be dimmable, meaning the light will reduce its brightness when no motion is detected instead of turning off completely. 

Why Install Motion Sensor Lights?

Many homeowners may wonder, "Why should I install motion sensor lights when I can control lights manually?" The answer lies in motion sensor lights' numerous benefits, from enhancing safety to reducing energy costs. Whether you are lighting up a dark driveway, a hallway, or your backyard, motion sensor lights provide the perfect blend of convenience, security, and savings. 

Benefits of Installing Motion Sensor Lights

1. Energy Efficiency

Motion sensor lights help reduce electricity consumption by only turning on when someone is present. This ensures lights aren’t left on unnecessarily, helping you save on energy bills over time. Savings and Sustainability.

2. Convenience

Gone are the days of fumbling for light switches in the dark! With motion sensor lights, your home becomes more convenient to navigate, especially in stairways, hallways, and entryways.

3. Hands-Free Operation

Motion sensor lights are incredibly user-friendly because they require no manual interaction. They turn on when you need them and switch off when you don’t, which is perfect for homes with children, elderly people, or busy families.

4. Longer Lifespan 

Since motion sensor lights are only on when necessary, they have a much longer lifespan than traditional ones that stay on for extended periods. This reduces the need for frequent bulb replacements. Additionally, the dimming feature extends the bulbs' lifespan by minimizing the lighting components' stress, ensuring more consistent performance over time.

5. Easy to Install

Motion sensor lights are designed for quick and seamless installation, making them ideal for commercial and industrial environments. Their compatibility with existing electrical systems ensures minimal disruption during setup, allowing businesses to enhance their lighting efficiency and security without extensive modifications or downtime.

6. Versatility

Motion sensor lights aren’t just for outdoor spaces; they can be used in almost any part of the home. They work great in bathrooms, kitchens, closets, garages, and even kids' rooms.

7. Environmentally Friendly

By reducing energy usage, motion sensor lights help decrease your carbon footprint, contributing to a more eco-friendly household. This small change in your home can significantly impact the environment over time.

8. Increased Safety

Motion sensor lights enhance safety by illuminating dark areas where accidents like tripping or slipping can happen. This is particularly useful for outdoor spaces such as driveways, paths, and garden areas and dim indoor areas like basements and garages.

Conclusion

Motion sensor lights offer a simple and cost-effective solution to enhance your home's safety, boost energy efficiency, and add convenience. With a wide range of applications, from outdoor security to indoor convenience, they offer a practical solution to many common household issues. By installing motion sensor lights, you can reduce energy costs, improve security, and enjoy the hands-free convenience of automated lighting.

If you're ready to upgrade your home with motion sensor lights, consider Sensinova’s range of reliable and energy-efficient products. Designed for both residential and commercial spaces, Sensinova offers top-quality solutions tailored to your needs, ensuring optimal lighting control and safety.

FAQ

Can motion sensor lights be used outdoors? Yes! Motion sensor lights work well in corridors, fire exits, garden lights, stairs, and basement parking, where light is only needed when someone is present.

Are motion sensor lights expensive to install? Not at all. Motion sensor lights are relatively affordable, and their energy savings over time make them a cost-effective solution.

How do motion sensors save energy? They only activate when motion is detected, ensuring lights are on only when necessary. This prevents energy wastage and lowers electricity bills.

By choosing our motion sensor lights, you can improve the functionality of your home and contribute to a more energy-efficient future. Sensinova is here to help you every step of the way!

[hockeyboysiguess]

mirrorball | a. matthews

a/n: first in a series of sixteen fics based off taylor swift’s new album, folklore. full list here.

You sighed as the front door closed behind you. It had been a long day; weddings always were. Being a wedding guest was usually just a series of slightly uncomfortable, awkward experiences back to back to the point where you became as numb to them as your feet were from your heels due to general exhaustion and open bars and all you would have to say about the evening when your co-workers asked you about it on Monday was that it was fine. You had made it through the day, thanks to champagne and your boyfriend. He intercepted some of the worst potential interactions for you, even taking on your great aunt’s cheek pats that verged on slaps for you. He had been a champion today, according to your mom, and you couldn’t agree more. 

“That was exhausting,” Auston sighed as he shuffled past you into the kitchen. “Remind me get a restraining order against your great aunt. I think she basically slapped me.” 

You laughed at his words, letting your feet carry you into the living room as you tried to will your exhausted, running mind to rest for a moment. Tonight, despite it’s obvious down being that it was a wedding and you were close enough to the age where it was considered acceptable to be getting engaged, you had a good day. Any day you could spend with Auston without the noise of his job and the world’s thoughts about the two of you was a good day. Sure, everyone at the wedding had opinions, but theirs were within scope, within the socially allowed levels of casual judgment. What you and Auston usually dealt with was out of scope, and it wore on you heavily. 

You wanted nothing more than to make everyone else happy. It was one of your best qualities, but also the one that brought you the most pain. There was only so much broken glass a person could pick up when trying to make the world a better place before their palms became bloody and scarred and parts of you started to break off in an effort to make yourself easier to tolerate, easily palatable to everyone. The parts of you that broke off, some of them broken forcibly by yourself kicking and screaming, in an effort to be adored by the masses were blending with the broken parts of the world you saw and you didn’t know what to pick up anymore. 

You felt like you were on a tightrope, balancing the person you knew you were and the person everyone wanted you to be, the person everyone would like, as you tried to walk across it. The two identities were entirely different weights. The person you were was heavy. She was real and strong and powerful, a three-dimensional human being incapable of being liked by everyone simply because she had opinions. The person everyone would like was a shallow grave, void of personality or content, waiting for the real you to fall into it and swallow you whole. You wanted so badly to be able to shed yourself of that two-dimensional false personality, but the real you was too much, too raw, too real to risk in front of the world. You chose instead to try to use it sparingly. Each time you did, it turned you into a mirrorball, reflecting and almost magnifying the best qualities of the people around you, spinning at a fast pace in an effort to provide that reflection and amplification to as many people as possible. There wasn’t space for you in it and the spinning made you constantly dizzy. Mirrors didn’t shine themselves; they simply reflected whatever was turned to them.

The killer part of it all was from your tightrope you couldn’t even see the platform you left to start your journey, nor could you see the platform you were theoretically walking it, which made you question what you were even doing on the tightrope in the first place. Was there even a platform on the other side?

Auston wasn’t like you. There were multiple parts to him, but they made up one whole human being. He brought out different parts of his personality around different people, in different environments, but he owned every single part equally; none had more weight than the other. He was solid, firm, complete. You were fractured and unbalanced, a house of torn and taped together playing cards desperately hoping a breeze didn’t come by and topple you. 

Auston didn’t really understand why you cried sometimes when everything became too much. He held you while you cried and rubbed your back gently. He didn’t understand because that desperate personality never came out to face him. You were always yourself with him. It’s why you, despite multiple failed relationships and countless almosts that led to real heartbreaks, were still here. He was different. You tried with him, because relationships take effort, but the you that tried was real and imperfect and good and he loved that you. The him that tried with you was the same one everyone else got, you just got every single piece, sometimes all at once, and you thanked your lucky stars he was easier to love than you were.

Your feet were still sort of numb thanks to your heels that you refused to take off. Auston had tried to get you to bring flats for the reception, but you’d waved him off because they didn’t go with the dress. Maybe you should’ve just swallowed the aesthetics for comfort, but you did love those heels. You sighed as you let your feet slowly start to carry you in a circle, your body swaying as you hummed one of the songs from the wedding softly to yourself. You closed your eyes and focused on your movements in an effort to clear your mind. 

When you opened your eyes, you saw Auston standing in the doorway between the living room and the kitchen. His tall frame was leaned against it. His suit jacket was off and his sleeves were rolled up to his elbows. His tie was loose around his neck and his hair that had been perfectly in place when you left that morning was drooping onto his forehead untamed. He had a soft, kind smile on his face that carried into his eyes and somehow deeper into him. His dark eyes were watching you sway, his smile growing as he watched and let out a soft laugh. 

“What?” you asked him, tilting your head to the side and raising an eyebrow at him. 

He laughed a little louder before pushing off the doorframe. He crossed the room until he reached you. His large hands reached for you, finding purchase on your hips. You smiled up at him as you let your arms climb up to fall over his shoulders. You kept humming along and let Auston start to sway you slowly to the tempo of the song you were humming. 

“Thank you for coming,” you told him, foregoing your humming in favor of speaking to him now. 

“Of course,” he nodded softly. “Boyfriend duty, right?” 

You laughed, making him laugh, one thing you were really good at and always wanted to be good at. He pulled you closer into his chest and continued to dance with you, slowly working you in a circle with him as you swayed to music that wasn’t playing.

“Boyfriend duty,” you agreed softly. 

“I think I did alright,” Auston told you. 

"You did great,” you replied, your voice quieter than before. “Better than I would have done if roles were reversed, but I’d give it my all.” 

Auston sighed, his head rolling back a little. His hands fidgeted with the material of your dress as he thought. You weren’t sure exactly what was going through his mind, but you could see the pained expression on his face as he debated whether or not to tell you what he was thinking. 

“You know you’re beyond good enough, right?” Auston told you as he lifted his head back so he could meet your eyes with his. “You don’t need this act you do. I like you, for you. So will everyone else.”

But they won’t. They’ll only like parts of me, the parts of me that make them feel good about themselves, but they won’t like all of me. If they don’t like all of me, what’s the point?

“Not everyone on the planet is meant to like you, you know?” 

You hadn’t realized those thoughts came out of your mouth, that they hadn’t just been in your head, until Auston replied to them. You bit your lip and dropped your eyes to the floor, staring at Auston’s dark dress shoes and your heels instead of his face. 

“And that’s a good thing. If everyone liked you, I probably wouldn’t. You’re not for everyone, baby, and that’s a good thing. I love you, the real you, the one that’s here right now. You don’t have to pretend to be this sort of personality-free robot all the time. Less people might like you, but the people who like you will like you for real things, like I do.” 

“It’s not that easy, Aus,” you sighed as you let your eyelids drop closed. You picked up your head, but kept your eyes closed. The possibility tears would fall down your cheeks when you opened your eyes was too high to risk it. Auston couldn’t handle seeing you cry. “It’s just not that simple.” 

“But it is.” Auston cut you off before you could finish. “I know it would be a change and change is scary, but you’ll be happy. You won’t cry so much.” 

You shook your head as a pathetic, sad smile fell over your face. It was a hopeless smile, full of pain from the pulling inside of you between one side that desperately wanting to do what Auston was offering and the realistic part of you that knew it would never work. 

“Auston, it’s like I’m on a trapeze. I’m swinging back and forth, but never landing somewhere fully. I’m just swinging, performing stunts at high levels of personal risk, so other people have a good time. I’m swinging back and forth between myself and the person people actually like. There’s no net. There’s no where to go. The just have to keep swinging. I can’t reach a platform.”

You opened your eyes to see Auston’s brow furrowed down and he had started shaking his head softly. He lifted one of his hands up from your hip to cup the side of you face, his thumb rubbing the few tears that had slid out away. 

“I’m the net, baby,” Auston told you. “Choose to fall. Choose to fall right now. No more swinging. Just be you, the real you, all of the time. I’ll catch you. I promise, I’ll catch you.” 

You shook your head, causing his other hand to come up to the other side of his face and hold your head in place for a moment. You had no choice but to look at him as a few tears spilled down your cheeks even though you wanted nothing more than for that not to be occurring right now. Auston pulled his lips in between his teeth as he looked at you. 

“Yes, you can,” he assured you. His voice was steady and firm, void of any doubt. He was solid and sure, a rock that had battered storm after storm and never moved an inch. This storm couldn’t hurt him and he knew it. He was tired of standing on the sidelines, watching it hurt the person he loved. “Let go. I’ll catch you. I know it’s a process, but we’ll work on it together. Just try, not for me, but for yourself. Try.”

You closed your eyes and took in a deep breath. You trusted Auston. You trusted him more than anyone else you knew. If you didn’t trust him enough to catch you, to finally stop the spinning, the breaking, the constant unbalanced sensation you carried, then this feeling would be permanent. It couldn’t be permanent. You didn’t want to feel like this anymore. You took a deep breath again. You needed to fall, you just didn’t know how. The look in Austin’s dark eyes told you he was going to be standing there, waiting for you, no matter how messy it was, that he was going to be right there while you figured out how to shed the fake skin you wore and found your footing at yourself. You didn’t know exactly how it was going to work, but the steadiness of his hands and the feeling in your chest told you this was worth the risk.

“Okay, catch me.”

[shipuu]

So i find tratie adorable so this how i think they got together

We are gonna make this realistic not that “fell in love when we were 16 and somehow managed to stay together through everything”. Nothing wrong with that trope. But like i said ~~realistic

Katherine gardner - originally from washington dc. She went to gerogetown uni.

She has always been passionate about the plants and first decided to major in Agricultural Studies, but then she didnt really like it.

So she switched to environmental studies. Not exactly about plants per se. But still related to the environment.

She sees the way humans are destroying the world and genuinely wants to help

Shes got good friends in college, sleeps around a little bit. Has a good relationship with her father.

Extremely hard working. Work ethic 1000000. Graduated with honors. Got a job at an enviromental consultancy firm in new york.

Travis off to college. I believe he went to a college in ny to be close to CHB and connor. Probably a community college seeing as he couldnt afford other unis

Nothing wrong with that. His relationship with his mom is rocky. So she wouldn’t be able to help out.

Majored in business administration. He takes it lightly his first year, seeing as how he isn’t used to the education system because he lived at CHB his whole life.

He genuinely wants to be successful. To have a life for himself and connor. So after first year kicks his butt, he works hard and raised his GPA the following years.

Extremely good at math and numbers. He steal messes around, playing pranks on people but nothing harmful. Also sleeps around a lot. (Nothing wrong with that)

Malcolm pace made an offhanded comment about how travis should start a new club at uni called “how to steal” and he considers it before shoving the idea away.

During the summer, he helps chiron with any business related things (tax forms, buying shirts, selling strawberries). Connor and him still play a lottttt of pranks

Graduated with honors. Lives in brooklyn With connor who is currently attending college. They still visit CHB from time to time.

So this one time, he steals something but then gets caught. Nothing expensive. A petty offence really. He calls chiron up to save his ass but chirons like NOPE.

So he gets charged. And the court gives him community service since it really was a petty offence.

He has to work with those “plant a tree” volunteer services during the weekend.

Katie is also volunteering there for fun and mostly because during the weekend, she has time to spare.

Travis goes there and is genuinely surprised to see her since he hasnt seen her in 4 years. ( she doesnt visit CHB as often. And even when she does she doesnt see the stolls)

Katie is genuinely surprised too.

First day, they dont talk the whole morning- just planting trees. Katie is still curious as to why he is here. So by the afternoon she asks him.

Shes isnt one bit surprised about the stealing thing. She also forgave them about the Easter Bunny cabin incident as it was 8 years ago??¿¿

Hes kinda nervous and blushing when he tells her the truth. Tbh he had a tiny crush on her back when they were teens. But it sorta went away, as they didnt interact much.

They catch up and its mostly just small talk. The next day, they talk more and katie realises travis has changed. He isn’t as annoying anymore. Travis also realises that katie has changed as she doesnt lecture and scold people anymore. Shes become more chill

The volunteering thing is over so they exchange numbers, promising to keep in touch. However over text, their convo is dry seeing as they arent THAT close and with their busy adult lifes. They slowly drift apart.

Fast forward another year. Katie works at her environmental firm and they start a new project. The firms brings in business consultants because the project has to be a success. One of the consultants is obvio TRAVISSSSSS.

Again both of them are surprised to see each other. Like always they dont really talk in the beginning. Mostly small talk. But then they get paired together for a part of the project.

So then it begins, late nights, coffee runs, laughter at 11pm in the office. Trying to work on numbers and investors and getting the most out reach on this project.

They get to know each other on a much higher level. They start to like each other but wont say anything.

Travis admits katie is gorgeous. And katie admits travis is handsome (not to each other. They just think about it)

2 months later, katie invites travis over to work on the project, trying to come up with an action plan. He brings over beer. And they settle in. Its 2 am. And they both are tipsy.

The project is long forgotten, and start talking about weird things like is cereal soup? Is gucci even worth it?

Its 2 am. Katies apartment is dim because of the lighting. They are both drunk. Sitting on the floor, extremely close to each other. Travis find hers absolutely gorgeous. Her cheeks are flushed coz of the alcohol. And shes wheezing so hard coz of what he said.

Katie thinks he looks hot as hell. And with his knowledge on business she finds him 1000 times more attractive.

Travis kisses her first, he pulls back about to apologise, before katie grabs him by the shirt and kisses him back. They have drunk sex on the carpet.

When travis wakes up the next morning, he realises he fucked up. Sleeping with a coworker. What was he thinking? You dont mix business and pleasure.

So he leaves her apartment. And when katie wakes up to see him not there she is kinda hurt.

They see each other in the office next day. And travis cant make eye contact with her. Katie is super confused because she thought he had a good time.

When everyone goes to lunch. She grabs travis and pushed him into a broom closet. And practically interrogates him.

Travis admits he likes her and she says the same. They’re super close to each other(coz of the tiny closet). The electricity in the air is charged. And they kiss again.

Travis doesnt wanna have sex in a closet so he picks her up, slams her on a table in the closet, bunches her tight skirt around her hips, and goes down her.

And katies just trying not to moan loudly. But failing miserably. Travis stoll knows how to eat pussy.

The rest of the day is filled with luscious glances, slight touches, her putting her hand on his thigh under the table and slowly inching upwards.

They meet up that evening at her apartment. And they agree to start dating. They keep it lowkey not yet telling connor.

After 1 month, they tell connor who btw called it from day one. He’s extremely happy for them.

Travis gets a bit jealous when guys flirt with katie and vice versa. But the two them only have eyes for each other.

Katie gets paired with another guy from the office for some work. Travis also notices that the guy checks katie out a lot, even though she is oblivious.

because of their conflicting work schedules, and how they never get to see each other. Katie working on the project with “that guy”travis is busy with his work, and helping connor out in his senior year. Late nights where they miss each other so much

And thats when their first real fight happens. Hes yelling. Shes yelling. Travis gets insecure that katie doesnt want him anymore. Katies positive they are gonna break up.

In a last ditch effort, she goes to his place. And have a painfully truthful conversation on how they both messed up. They promise to do better and communicate more

That night they make ~~love~~ to each other. Not sex, LOVEEEEE.

After that its smooth sailing. They have fights now and then, but nothing they cant handle.

Their first “I love you’s” is a week after they made love to each other. She was making dinner ( shes a fucking amazing cook) and travis is standing behind her arms around her waist, chin on her shoulders.

And they’re talking and he says “well thats one of things i love about u” and after a second he realises what he said and practically freezes. Katie stops stirring the pasta and turns to look at him.

They both just kinda stare at each other and travis is so fucking nervous and then katie breaks out into the most breathtaking smile he has ever seen. she tells him i love u back.

Their kissing turns to making out and he picks her up, slams her on the kitchen counter and they have sex. (They also turned off the stove dw)

2 orgasms later. They finally eat dinner. And things between them are fucking amazing

After dinner they retreat back to the bedroom where katie is screaming his name and travis’ grunting heavily.

And it’s complete bliss.....

Also side note. Hermes and demeter 100% approve

[findingtheperfectcharacter]

Teacher in the streets...

I need more black Logan in my life. No tw's for this one folks, just a fun one-shot. But if you can think of a tw, tell me

Logan yawned as he pressed the off button on his alarm, clumsily grabbing his glasses from the nightstand. He ran his hands through his hair and sighed as the short curls and knots inevitably wrapped themselves around his fingers. He muttered to himself as he walked to the bathroom that he shouldn't do that. It wasn't helpful to actually getting knots out like a good comb, but the act always brought him a strange amount of comfort.

He moved from the bathroom back to his room to take out his clean, pressed blue and black stripped tie and polo. Frankly he was going to need all the comfort he could get today, the faculty was having a racial sensitivity awareness meeting.

He moved to the kitchen to make himself a black coffee, 2 eggs and two slices of toast. He understood why the meetings were useful, on an intellectual level. If white people aren't reminded every 5 minutes that nonwhite people are people, they might forget. He just hated that he had to go and be the only black face in the room while white presenters teach other white people why saying, ‘You're not like those people. Not in a bad way, you're just different from a lot of black people I know in a good way.' Isn't the compliment they think it is and pat each other on the back while they pull the same shit a week later-

Ding

He pulled the toast out of the toaster and slathered it with Crofters. Maybe a bit more. A little more. And maybe just a spoonful for himself for luck and good graces for the rest of the day. 

As he drove to the University he took a few deep breaths, luckily traffic wasn’t too miserable, he found it fairly easy to put on his professional face. He was Dr. S, winner of the Robert H. MacArthur award for his work in ecology. He was intelligent, confident- but never arrogant, and firm but never harsh or angry. He walked down the halls with an air of untouchability, but was willing to give lighthearted ‘good morning’ whenever he saw a student he knew pass or a fellow teacher that he knew or nodded at him. 

Despite how much he occasionally bitched, he really did love his job, he loved having all eyes- well most students eyes- on him as he talked about the nature of the understory. He had samples of lichen that he had the students pass around the auditorium so they could get a really good look at the fungi. He talked about how useful they are in maintaining the ecosystem and converting carbon dioxide in the atmosphere. He loved listening to them, his students were brilliant, often coming into situations with viewpoints he’d never even considered. He loved reading their discussion boards after class.

Students always entered his class with different levels of attachment to the environment, some were climate change deniers who joined the class to be contrary, others were here because they thought it would be easy science credits- he wasn’t in complete denial of the nature of teaching a college course- but he also knew the few in the course that genuinely wanted to be there. They interacted with the material with a level of passion that reminded him of himself in his youth. And some part of him hoped that his own level of interest rubbed off on those who were neutral or even outright hostile towards the subject matter. 

He moved towards his desk in the corner of the room and took out an envelope with a hand written letter from one of his students. It was about how the student had changed their major just because of his class. He’d sparked a passion in the student and made him believe that he could have an impact on the world around him. Discovering that he had made a real, tangible difference in a person’s life- it was one of the greatest moments in his career. 

One more class, than his lunch break, and of course-

The ever dreaded meeting.

Their voices were an endless, tiring drone, he found himself doodling on a piece of paper out of shear boredom until they reached a point in the meeting where they said something hilarious:

“We’re going to do a roleplay exercise so you can see how it feels.” 

Of course, despite the subject of the meeting, none of them could really get it and he sure as hell wasn’t going to go out of his way to relive events where white people called him, ‘aggressive’ for speaking in a clear and concise manner but as the aggressor just to help them understand.

Or at least, he wouldn’t do it in the here and now. 

For now he would be polite, all, ‘Can you understand why it may be upsetting to imply this’? and ‘I know your intentions were not meant to be unkind, but the effect of your words ultimately makes your intent irrelevant.’

A few hours later and he found himself at a slightly dingy apartment a few towns over. He pressed on the buzzer for Remus’s room, “Hey, it’s me.”

“AY bro! You sound like shit.”

Logan gave a small snort, “Matches how I feel, got any good beats ready?”

Logan could practically hear the grin on his face. When Remus was giddy it always meant trouble, “Always, stop being a stranger and get in here!” Yep, there were definitely going to be shenanigans afoot. But that was to be expected when Remus was your producer, everyone who was into underground stuff knew his name. Though not always for positive reasons. 

“I’ve been thinking about using the sound of broken glass as a beat drop on this one,” Remus practically dragged Logan into his room and sat him on the moth-eaten chair. “You know like Shatter, 4 beats of silence then the rapper comes back in and the beat goes harder than ever you know? But that’s for the big project, I’ve also been messing around with the sound that different like, levels of hardness- it’s goo so it’s not like hard, hard, not like this di-”

“The viscosity.” Logan nodded.

Remus snapped his fingers, “Yeah, that bitch! Just like, using the temperatures to create the notes!” He clapped his hands, “So, what do you want for the night? What’s the mood?”

 Logan sighed and tilted his head up as he looked at the ceiling. “The somber, harshness of hating the inevitabilities of life.” He blinked, “That’s oddly specific-”

Remus shook his head, “No, hey man. Don’t worry, I gottcha. You wanna record or nah?”

“Nah, not this one, this one’s just a warm up you know? Maybe a later one though I dunno lot of factors on hand.”

Remus nodded, “Gottcha gottcha gottcha,” he moved towards his laptop and looked through his tracks, squinting before his eyes lit up and he said, “Try this one on for size.”

The song started off with a dial tone noise with a fast-paced piano trilling between middle C and C#, the tones were discordant and harsh, but Logan found that they matched his own discordant feelings, towards his job, towards his life, towards himself. He let out those feelings through his words matching the pace of the music as it shifted and changed. Sentence after sentence flowed past his lips, the words adding clarity to his emotional state, giving him a sense of self that encouraged him to change his dynamics to match it, going from meek and discordant to harsh, clear certainty in seconds between lines. 

He would admit it wasn’t his best work, clearly, some of his word-play could have been better thought out (’I’ve met bitches with more intellect/at least Spot knows how to speak/Don’t mean much when you use acrolect/to say ‘let me take a peek’ was unnecessarily vulgar and likely didn’t sound as good aloud as he thought it did.) but he felt alive when he said it. The music ran through his veins and into his soul as he spoke. 

No matter whether a day was awful or great he would have this place. His sanctuary. 

[sestra-inestro]

My Wonderous

Summary: In honour of the avengers who have saved the world, you built something for the world to remember them. And you remember your time with your mother, Natasha Romanoff.

Notes: This is the last part of the My trilogy. I had to write one for Nat, she deserves it.

1. My Amazing, 2. My Marvellous

Warnings: angst, character deaths, ENDGAME SPOILERS!! If you haven’t read the first two parts then some flashbacks may not make sense. Enjoy!

You stood tall behind the podium. Eyes looking at you from every direction as the days light illuminated your body on stage.

“Thank you for coming today. All of you.” Your voice was strong through the mic.

The press flashed their cameras and held their own mics out to you.

“We asked you all here today, to commemorate the memory of those we lost to bring everyone back.” Your chest tightened as you thought about them. The three most important people in your life, Natasha, Tony and Steve, who had passed in his sleep a week ago.

“My family risked their lives for this world more times than I can count.” You spoke confidently. “And probably more times than this world deserves.”

A hum rang through the crowd but you kept your face stoic. You did not regret your words, this world is shit.

“But looking around, seeing a lot of old faces that we haven’t seen in a long time, their sacrifice wasn’t in vain.”

“Ms June! Ple-“ A press junkie interrupted you.

Ugo, who sat next to the podium gave a warning growl, and the man closed his mouth and cowered away.

“Please hold all questions til the end.” You raised your hand and Ugo sat back down.

You took a deep breath before continuing.

“As you know, three of the many people who fought for us risked their lives. Our very own, Tony Stark, Steve Rogers...” You pauses for a moment, thinking about the great soul of Natasha Romanoff.

Natasha turns in her chair towards the fuss as Tony burst through the conference room doors, a shivering baby in his arms.

“What the fuck?” Clint asked aloud after a moment of silence.

Tony looked very disheveled.

“What did you do?” Nat asked him.

He turned to her with offended eyes. “Rescued her off the street, what did you do?”

“You found her on the street?” Steve stood, his brows frowned.

“In an alleyway actually. I didn’t know what to do.” He looked down at the baby.

The baby then started to fuss and opened her eyes. E/C eyes shone back at Nat, quickly filling with tears and lips quivering quickly.

“I don’t know what to do!” Tony’s voice rose.

“Oh, for god sake give her here.” Nat stood as the baby began to wail.

Tony shuffled you into her arms and his hands immediately knotted into his hair as he paced. “I’m not ready for kids.” He mumbled.

Natasha cradled you gently and bounced you around, looking down at your face which was currently screwed up in a cry.

She began to quietly shush you and lull you to silence.

Your face quickly came to rest and you looked up at her fiery red hair.

“Hey, there.” She gave you a soft smile.

Your face stayed still as you studied the woman holding you.

“Where’s your mummy? Or you daddy?” She asked and frowned down at you. “Did they leave you alone?”

Your big eyes just stared at her.

“Yeah. Mine too.”

The team behind her were talking and possibly arguing. She doesn’t know, she can’t hear. She’s too focused on the smallest smile your little baby lips give her. Your smile makes her chest flutter with joy.

“Maybe we can look after each other, huh?” She smiled down at you.

“Mumma!” You make grabby hands at Natasha as she walks through the door.

The team had just gotten back from a month long mission and everyone was tired.

“Hey, baby girl.” Nat bent down to pick you up.

You were going through a stage of calling everyone ‘mumma’. Even the men.

“Hey, kiddo.” Tony ruffled your hair as he walked passed, giving you the giggles.

Nat smiles at the sound and carried you to her room. You babbled mindlessly as she plopped you onto her bed and slowly started to strap off her gear.

“You’re a cutie.” Nat said when she saw you in the mirror snuggling up to one of her pillows, which was bigger than you. When Nat was finally dressed into some comfy sleep wear and threw her uniform to the side, she collapsed next to you on the bed.

Turning and facing you, you gave her a big wide eyed smile which made her chuckle.

This is what she needed after a tough mission. Happy smiles and pure innocence that just promised mischief later on in life. She would be lying if she said she wasn’t excited to see the trouble you would cause.

“You have a nap today?” Nat raised her eyebrows at you.

You shook your head against the pillow.

“I want to have a nap.” Nat glanced at the little alarm clock on the bedside table behind you and sighed. “I got a debrief in half an hour. Wanna nap a little with me?”

You quickly nodded and shuffled closer to her on the bed. Your little cold hands rested on her chin and you sighed, your little body now realising how tired it was.

In this moment, Nat felt emotional. The hurt that she wouldn’t be able to have kids of her own faded away as you slept next to her on the bed. She felt safe, even though she was supposed to make sure you were. But she was glad.

She closed her eyes and sighed, enjoying the company of the closest thing she’d ever have to a daughter. Just for a few minutes.

Nat sat peacefully on the couch reading a book. A calm afternoon just waiting to be disturbed. Nat quietly listened to the atmosphere around her and heard footsteps coming towards the living room.

Tony waltzed in with a spring in his step and whistling to himself. He walked straight to the kitchen, the open area allowing Nat to still see him. Soon after his entrance she felt a presence beside her.

Looking down over the arm of the couch she could see you crawling across the floor. Eyes set on Tony.

“I see you.” Nat whispered to you, not too loud so Tony could hear.

Your eyes shot up at the red head and a mischievous grin graced your face. You pulled a finger to your lips and held up a can of silly string, one that you and Tony had been chasing every other around with all day.

She winked down at you and pretended to go back to her book.

You raised yourself from the floor and quietly crept up to Tony, who obliviously was whistling away.

Your stepped slowed and you aimed the can right at his head. Turning to look at Nat, you nodded, who nodded back at you.

“Hey, Snark.” Nat’s voice broke his whistling.

“Yes, Stroganoff?” Tony asked before he turned to face Nat and was immediately met with and mouth and face full of silly string.

You relentlessly held onto the can and emptied it onto him.

Cackling to yourself, you sprung passed Nat who was now laughing at Tony as he spat the string onto the floor.

“Hey! We had a truce!” Tony called after you.

You were stressing out big time. After the screaming match at your door, Nat locked you both in your room and she studied you as you still hid behind your bed, covering your chest.

Ugo was perched on the bed and looking curiously down at you.

“What’s going on?” Nat asked you with her hands on her hips.

You stood, still covering yourself and pouted. “I grew again and now none of the clothes we bought last week fit me.”

Nat glanced around at the many articles of clothing that were thrown across the room, clearly after you tried to push them over your chest.

“Looks like we’ll have to start buying much bigger clothes so we can prepare for your growth spurts.” Nat pulled down a big sweater you had stolen from Steve long ago and forgot about from you open wardrobe. Tossing it to you, she grinned. “Pretty sure Tony wouldn’t mind lending us a few for a shopping spree.”

You pulled the sweater over your head, thankful for Steve’s large shoulders so the material sagged over you newly grown chest.

Nat saw how fast your body was growing and now realised you were heading into your late teens. She sighed.

“Also, remind me to teach you some techniques on how to flip a guy. You gonna start needing that soon.”

Tony made you stay in the room as they brought in Steve. You could see through the glass windows of the room that they were also bringing in Sam and Steve’s friend Bucky, who was shut inside a containment box. As they rolled passed the room, you made brief eye contact with Bucky.

This man who looked broken down and wasn’t resisting is supposedly the same man who bombed the VIC?

You didn’t think so.

Ugo sat next to you as you curiously watched everyone interact, you knew the Accords were way bigger than you could understand at the moment but you knew everyone was having a disagreement over it. You felt divided.

Suddenly, the door to the room you were in was pushed open and men stepped in. Ugo stood to his full height and growled at them, daring them to come closer. “Easy, boy.” You calmed him. He wouldn’t move until you told him.

“Ms June.” One of men spoke. “You have to come with us.”

“The hell I do.” You stood defensively. “I’m not going anywhere.”

“I’m afraid I’ll have to insist.” The guard stepped towards you and grabbed your upper arm, dragging you out of the room before you could protest.

“Hey! Let me go!” Your yell alerted Tony and Natasha who were conversing with Steve and Sam, well more everyone in the room.

Ugo was back in the room and barking at the guards that hauled you away and the ones that blocked him from leaving the room.

“Hey!” Tony stepped forward quickly with his arm raised. “What do you think your doing?”

“This girl is not registered into an educational environment. Therefore, she is deemed neglected by the caretakers.” The guard who held you told him.

“Neglected?!”Tony and Nat yelled at the same time.

Steve wasn’t allowed to move anywhere, so he struggled to watch as worry for you etched into his chest.

“In no way is she neglected and she is constantly in and educational environment. Do you know who we are?” Tony said to the man.

The man shrugged. “The avengers are not responsible enough to care for a child. Especially in a room full of murders.” The man glared at Natasha.

Nat stepped forward to interfere but before she reached you, you kicked the man in the shin and tripped him onto his back. Other guards stepped forward and raised their guns at Tony and Nat with Steve being blocked from getting to you.

“Ugo, ha мою сторону!” You yelled out.

Ugo growled and barked at the guards before barreling towards them. Guns were now raised at the dog as he charged out of the room, through the guards and stood in a protective stance in front of you.

His white fur stood up on his back and his snout pulled up in a snarl as he growled at the guards that had their guns drawn on him.

“Shoot him, I dare you.” You said in a warning tone. “Go ahead and piss him off.”

Your burning glare held the stare of the guard you flipped onto the ground. Nat and Tony walked forward passed all the guards.

Nat looked down at the guard you flipped, proud that the lessons you were having with her were paying off.

“She’s not going anywhere. The safest place for her is with her family.” She warned him.

“With Barnes here she’s in danger.” The guard groaned as he stood up.

“I’ll go to the compound. But you’re not taking me anywhere.” You said to them.

The guard began to protest but Ugo snarled at himself, efficiently shutting him up.

Nat stepped forward and gently placed a hand on your shoulder. “I don’t think you have a say. I’ll will personally see her out.”

Nat had the final say before you both turned to leave.

“Со мной сейчас.” You spoke in thick Russian.

Ugo growled once more before turning and following you and Nat out.

You looked at Nat with thankful eyes. “Thanks, mumma.”

“Pretty soon you won’t be needing my help.” Nat smiled down at you.

You peered down at the gift box that held the beautiful crimson necklace.

It had been an entire year since you had seen everyone and today you had your annual growth spurt. What you didn’t know would be your last.

The little gift note in your hand dawned the writing of your mother figure that you have missed dearly.

‘Hey baby girl, not a baby anymore.

I didn’t forget this year, hopefully. Seems ironic when I finally get hang of keeping up with the time of your growths that I’m not there to give this to you in person.

I’m sorry that I couldn’t be there to give this to you, and I pray that you understand why. You’re a smart girl.

I love you June, I miss you everyday. But I will see you again soon. Just don’t forget me.

Nat x’

The necklace was a bright red, reminding you of Nat’s hair. You smiled at the gift, knowing you could never hold resentment towards her. She was defending what she believed in. And you looked up to her for that.

You lifted the necklace and clasped it around your neck, you missed her, hell you missed them all.

The world seemed dull after 5 years of everyone gone. Everyone had made a start to move on but had really just divided again. Trying to keep themselves busy and distracting themselves.

You spent most of your time between places with Tony and the compound. You thought about trying to stay in one spot permanently but you couldn’t be away from one of the others for too long. They were your family.

You were also lonely, seeing that Ugo was one of the creatures that vanished when Thanos won.

You stepped into the compound to see Nat in her usual spot, trying to find people to help and trying to find Clint.

You sighed as you took in her tired appearance. Her hair was well showing after growth but she couldn’t find the will to care about the colour of it any time soon.

“Hey, mumma.” You said, smiling at her.

Nat looked up and gave you a warm smile in return. “Hey, baby girl.” She stood and hurried over to hug you. “How’s Tony?”

You stepped back and shrugged. “The usual. Wishes everyone would come around for dinner at some stage so put that in your schedule.” You pointed before walking with her further into the room and finding Steve. “Hey you.”

“Hey June.” He smiled and stood to hug you as well.

You sighed and fell into a seat at tree table they were seated at. “So,” You relaxed into the chair. “What’s been happening?” You ask, knowing that the answer will be the same as it had been for the last 5 years.

You stood at the panel with your arms crossed and a pout on your face, watching everyone suit up.

“Why don’t I get to go?” You grumbled.

“Because, I told you, we don’t have enough Pym Particles to take everyone and we need someone to man the compound while we are gone.” Tony said as he set up.

“You will literally only be gone a few seconds, Bruce said so himself.” You tried to reason.

“So it shouldn’t be a problem. And your only thirteen.” Tony raised an eyebrow. “Younglings stay here. Plus you look crazy.” He gestured to your scratchy hair and glare.

“You make me crazy.” You mumbled.

“He makes everyone crazy.” Nat said from behind you. You turned to see her smile at you. She pulled you into a hug. “You’ll be okay. We’ll be back before you know it.”

You sighed and hugged her tighter.

“Nat, come on. We are going back in time, not off to war.” Clint said from the platform but you ignored him.

Nat pulled back and lightly touched the necklace around your neck, that one you hadn’t taken off since she gifted it to you.

“Still beautiful.” She said trying to brush your hair down before moving passed you to the platform.

You sighed before moving to the station.

“Alright, June. Just flip the switch right in front of you in five seconds and we should all be back with our stones.” Bruce nodded to you.

You nodded back to him, still salty that you didn’t get to go with them.

“See you in a minute.” Nat said with a smile and you waved.

“In three, two, one.” Bruce counted down before the portal took them.

You sigh before counted to 5 in your head.

Slowly, you flipped the switch you were told to and the portal started up again and in a flash, they were all back.

“Did we get them all?” Bruce said with a hopeful smile.

Clint fell to his knees, a pained expression on his face. You frowned before noticing the empty space next to him.

“Where’s Nat?” You asked, panic rising in your chest.

You were met with silence and your panic was confirmed. You had lost Natasha.

-

You all stood at the wharf at the lake near the compound. The men argued behind you as you stared out into the lake.

You had just lost the only mother figure you had in your life.

Numbness crawled through your body as you thought about her. The warm smiles she always gave you. The cuddles on scary nights, the amount of naps you had together, the things she taught you so you could defend yourself from anyone who tried to take advantage of you. Tears slowly rolled down your cheeks as you grasped the crimson necklace around you neck, you’d never get to feel her hug again.

Your body buzzed with your powers as they continued to argue behind you, agitating you.

“It was supposed to be me.” Clint’s voice cracked. “She sacrificed herself, she bet her life on it.”

Bruce growled next to you before picking up the wharf bench and tossing it into the lake.

You stood still with your arms crossed as you watched the bench fly across the lake before making a splash.

You took a deep breath before turning to the men.

“Then we can’t sit here and let that go to waste.” You said, your voice strong.

“How are we supposed to move on with this?” Bruce growled at you.

Anger rose in your chest as you looked at the green man. He was supposed to be smart. You knew he was angry and sad but he was being stupid.

“If we don’t, then she died for nothing! She believed in this plan, to make it work! If we just sit here and wallow in grief then her belief and her sacrifice was for nothing.” You told Bruce. “If you guys want to sit here and bitch about it, then fine. But I’m going back in there to make sure my mother died for something.” You said sternly before marching passed them all and back to the compound.

They all soon joined you again and began working hard on making the gauntlet. Tony placed a hand on your shoulder and smiled. You smiled back, knowing you were going to give this all you could.

Don’t worry, mumma. I’ll make sure they remember you.

“And Natasha Romanoff.” Your voice trembled slightly through the mic.

There was a shift in the crowd as you named the members of your family.

“All three who have passed away, fought the fight that bought the people of this world back. They sacrificed themselves, left their own lives behind so that the people of this world could thrive again.” You said with a slight smile on your face. Even though you would miss the whales that swam through the Hudson, you were glad to have Ugo back.

“These people will never be forgotten. And to ensure that that never happens, we have built three monument statues in their honour.” You said proudly and nodded towards the workers next to the stage.

They pulled ropes that held up a large curtain behind you and revealed the three, major statues of your three family members behind you. The press and audience in front of you cheered and clapped as they saw the detailed sculptures. You knew Tony would’ve loved it, Steve would’ve appreciated it and Nat would’ve cringed. But they all deserved it.

“I would also like to announce that a plaque has been developed and a new therapeutic clinic has been constructed and named after our one and only Bruce Banner, who brought all who vanished back.” Down the stage stood Bruce will his arm still in his velcro support. The surprise in his eyes said it all and the other Avengers who stood next to him clapped him on the back. The press and audience clapped again.

“This team will go on fighting for the world, no matter how much it doesn’t deserve it.” You still believed that this world was shit.

“Our new team of Avengers will be officially working with the government. This organisation was developed for a reason, and we will stay that way. Thank you all.” You quickly ended your speech and turned from the podium, Ugo followed you closely. The press rose to their feet and yelled questions at you but you ignored them.

The smiling faces of your new family greeted you. Sam and Bucky stood together, Wanda stood with Carol and you knew Peter was watching from the audience. Bruce smiled warmly at you and placed a hand on your shoulder.

“You didn’t have to do that, June.”

“You brought half the universe back. You deserved more than a clinic but you already have the Nobel Prize.” You shrugged your your shoulders.

Bruce smiled down at you and pulled you into a one armed hug. “Thanks, kid.”

You smiled up at him. “No problem.”

You glanced at Sam and Bucky. “They all would’ve loved it.” Sam complemented.

“Actually, Nat would’ve hated it.” You glanced up the her statue. “But she gets it anyways.” You smiled to yourself.

“What happens if people graffiti on it?” Bucky asked.

“Well they all have little cameras up their noses. So if someone does graffiti, we’ll know who it is.” You gave a devilish smile. You looked down at Ugo who whines a little back at you. You leant down and scratched his ear.

“You truly are a Stark.” Bruce said smiling at you.

You nodded proudly and walked passed them, you clutched Wanda’s arm and carried on back to the car.

“Let’s head back to the compound, there’s Clint’s retirement party to organise.”

[avoutput]

Final Fantasy VII Legacy || Remake Review

This is the 2nd out of 3 articles. Find the first here.

Enough with the flowery language. No more ancient memories of times passed. No more wasted passages on the origin of Final Fantasy VII. I am not some little kid sitting crossed-legged in front of a 13-inch tube TV, but a man sitting in a lightly used office chair he found by the apartment dumpster several years ago. I have grown. The gaming world has grown. And Final Fantasy has grown. But is it the kind of growth you imagined? Does this game shed the dead weight of its numbered younger siblings? Does it recreate an experience from your childhood? Is it an innovative gaming experience that redefines the RPG like its genesis? Is breathing life into one of the most provocative modern gaming death’s worth the exhumation? These are the questions swimming in my head while I waited for the release of Final Fantasy 7 Remake, a deeply marked touchstone in my life. And after having completed my run through the game, I had some thoughts I needed to organize and share. I need to decide: Is this a proper run, a proper update, a proper remake? Or is it just a repurposed chair found by the dumpster?

Let me clarify a few things. First, this is going to be a straight review of the game with little-to-no spoilers. Second, this is the 2nd in a series of 3 articles I decided to write, with the final article being a no-holds-barred, spoiler frenzy discussing the outcomes of this game and many other Final Fantasy’s. In this article, we are going to be looking at what the game did well, what it was mediocre at, and lastly, what was downright disappointing. Each section will bleed into each other a bit because the games components bleed into each other a bit, which feels a little odd for a JRPG, but this isn’t ye-old JRPG. Let’s get right to it.

RE-KWARK!-ABLE! I MEAN REMARKABLE.

Before we tear this game down, let’s spend some time building it up. The standout component of this game was very clearly the battle system. The transition is seamless and the frenzy begins almost immediately. What surprised me right off the bat is how easy it was to not only switch between characters, but how simply it was to tell them what to do. I thought slowing down the battle to issue commands was going to be a nuisance, but it really helped balance out the pace of the battle. You can assign 4 hotkeys that let you keep the battle going without slowing down to strike at an enemies weakness. I did find that it felt a little useless to assign anything other than your weapon skills, because spells take a little time to cast and most of the time you are going to want to pick a specific spell based on the enemies weakness, but that is totally up to your playstyle. 

In the vein of the battle system, boss fights were engrossing and detailed. It felt like they spent a lot of time thinking about which moments in the Midgar timeline would make the best boss battles and how exactly they would design the bosses moveset and structure based not only on what the boss was, but where the boss was. In one chapter, you fight a boss that is nearby some train tracks. At a certain point in the battle, it will electrify the track, and if you are standing on it, you get major damage. Enemy types also had a pretty consistent set of weaknesses, so you didn’t have to go into the bestiary menu to determine what spell would most likely take it down. But on the other hand, the Assess ability is crucial in understanding some of the more minute methods to hitting the enemy weakness. It was actually a delight to try and fight both with and without it. Like everything else in the battle, the menu comes up with a single button press and no load time. It gives you time to read and strategize your attacks.

In some other reviews I had been reading, people had complained about a feature I loved. Using spells and abilities requires you to have your ATB gauge filled, which will fill with time, but fills much faster if you are attacking. The complaint was that the AI isn’t particularly good at attacking when you aren’t using them, and not only that, they don’t receive the ATB fill bonus from attacking, it simply takes them time. However, because transition between characters is instantaneous, I believe that the designers did this as an incentive to use each character as often as possible. This isn’t the only incentive for this either. Every weapon for each character has a single skill that can be learned from it. To learn it, you have to use a skill. Again, to use the skill the ATB gauge has to be filled. Most battles in the game go by quickly, especially once you know the enemies weakness, so you need to build ATB fast and activate the skill. Without telling you, the game basically created an environment where it's not only necessary to switch between characters and learn their playstyles, but almost necessary. What’s more, every character is somewhat unique, especially Barret and Aerith, and certain types of enemies (flying or distance based, ect) are much easier to handle with the right character. All around, the battle system is an absolute standout and easily the best part of the game.

Without giving anything away, another strong part of the game is the scenario design. I was driven to hear more, see more, and do more in this game. The characters a crisp and vibrant, even when they lack depth. They are undeniably “cool” or “cute” or whatever their main adjective should be for the given scenario. The voice acting in both the Japanese and English versions are great, though the Japanese version from time to time has a different take on some of the characters than the English, it's still a blast. Every moment that leads into a battle with a signature villain is thoroughly enjoyable. I don’t think you absolutely need to have played the original to enjoy these moments, but more on that later. What it really comes down to is this game has some pretty great pacing because even when it fumbles, it doesn’t stop you from wanting to play more. The battle system element just propels you forward and hearing what crazy thing is going to happen next is more than enough to make up for follies.

This is sad to say, but there really is only one more exceptional item to mention. The return of Nobuo Uematsu. The soundtrack of this game was already pretty well designed in the original. Coming back to it was more than just a nostalgic walk down memory lane. It was like coming home and realizing your parent’s upgraded your house to a mansion with room service, a full staff, and a kitchen that's open 24 hours a day stocked with everything you desire. And it isn’t just that the music was remastered, it flows in and out of the game with masterful timing. Multiple versions of each song were recorded so that movements in the song crescendo at the exact moment your Cloud lands a hit or Reno and Rude jump from a helicopter. It made every moment of the game feel like so much more than just an average confrontation. There are a few moments that even made me laugh. There is a hip-hop inspired Chocobo theme that made me smile both for how odd it was and how awful it should have been received, but somehow it just slaps. If you pay attention you might notice some of the music is more reminiscent of other entries in the series with two standouts in particular, one sounding like Final Fantasy XII and another like Final Fantasy XIII, two very different scores. But it felt right at home in this modernized version of Final Fantasy VII. There is also a music collection sidequest that is mostly made up of jazzy remakes of classic Final Fantasy VII songs. These are less remarkable, but still good for the most part. Part of the issue with these songs is it is played through some kind of fuzzy record player speaker overlay, which I found annoying and distorting.

MISSED THE KWARK! I MEAN MARK.

I would say that almost everything else in this game missed the mark in some way or another. Some are just shy of a home run, others are baseline grounders, and some are just straight fouls. Either way, they could have used more attention or a different direction in my opinion. And I want to start with something I almost never complain about in video games: the graphics. Talking about graphics is usually pointless. People who are after ridiculous levels of fidelity always seem to believe this either makes or breaks the game. In Remake, that might actually be true for once. I am not a graphics designer, but one thing I noticed and couldn’t stop noticing is that there were so many different levels of graphical fidelity all smashed into one place. In some scenes, there were gorgeous details, like the entirety of Aerith’s house area, but then you get to the flowers, it's like 1997 again. In other moments, like when looking down at the Midgar Slums from the upper plate, it is clearly a very flat and stretched image meant to look three-dimensional like the other things around you, but the image was just off. Doors on buildings would look like garbage compared to the floor or walls in the room. It was just very clear that a once over on all the different assets would have helped out quite a bit. The problem wasn’t that the graphics were good or bad, but that they were inconsistent. It was like looking at photo-realistic drawing with some Picasso in the middle. The character models were so well done, when the interacted with this space, it was just jarring. Again, not awful, just missed the mark.

With such a well maintained battle system, you would think the menu system would be equally flawless, but it wasn’t. The main UI where you would outfit your party was a bit of a mess. For one, there was no way to go from upgrading your weapon to equipping it or vice-versa. They had completely separate menus for both that didn’t lead to each other. Then there is the upgrade menu itself, wherein you select upgrades in a similar way to FFXIII crystal upgrade menu. When you choose the weapon, it takes you to a completely different screen and makes this loud noise and transition effect. It's annoying to read and to navigate. You can bypass this by having the computer choose your upgrades for you, but that really felt like I was missing out. It would have been a huge improvement just to list the abilities and have me choose from the same menu I chose everything else. It was unnecessarily fancy and kind of an eyesore. Equipping materia got a small upgrade from the original game, wherein you can press a button to see and switch out materia with everyone, but this should have just been THE menu, not an extra button press. They also should have categorized the materia, letting you choose which type you wanted to look at instead of having to scroll through line after line. The menu also doesn’t give you simple information in places where you could use it, like what chapter you are in. To know, you have to go to the save menu. It could have simply been listed next to the playtime in the bottom corner.

There are even certain materia that are hard to understand, specifically the Enemy Skill materia. In the old game it would list which skills you had obtained. This one didn’t give you any idea what you had obtained and what exactly was obtainable. After a while I figured out that in the bestiary, although it would tell you which monster had a skill you could get, it wouldn’t exactly say if you had it. Turns out that if the skill was highlighted green on the enemy skills screen (another button press away), you didn’t have it, if it was blue, you did. Then, to see which skills you had in total, you had to go to the party screen and it would be listed under your abilities if they were wearing the materia. Not only that, the skill would have a different name than the skill the enemy used, the naming convention wasn’t 1-to-1. Add to this, materia sometimes have very obscure instructions or descriptions. The battles can go by so fast, it's hard to even notice the effect of them if something isn’t exploding or outwardly obvious. In fact, many of the instructions are weird in the game. If you die in a series of fights where they are linked, it will ask if you want to go back to the first fight or the last fight. Choosing the first actually sends you back to before you started the series and you can adjust your equipment, which is fine, but in a normal fight, if you die, you can only go back to the fight and it doesn’t let you modify your equipment. It's a simple inconsistency but the text and cursor placement also make it hard to understand exactly what is going to happen.

Finally, all the smaller issues. There are too many places where the game has you “walk” for no particular reason. You just slow down. I thought it might be due to loading, but it happens in places where no story or anything appears to be happening next. Summon materia is already maxed and it doesn’t feel like it helps all that much, even when the enemy is weak to them. The game design is set up so that whichever character you are currently playing as the only thing enemies are interested in attacking, especially if someone isn’t using provoke. So, your summon simply attacks, and to do it's better attacks, you have to sacrifice ATB. Mostly this is fine, it creates balance, but i’d prefer they came and left like in the original. In fact, I have hated all summon mechanics since FFX. They need to come, do damage, and be gone. But I have to admit, this is the best marriage of the two versions. Next, the choices you make that alter certain outcomes in the game are so far away from the thing you are altering, and at times not clear. This could have been more fun had they given you a bit more of control or some kind of gauge to show you what was going on, but in a way, it was true to its roots, which isn’t necessarily a good thing. Lastly, having to aim the camera to interact with items that are just outside of its view is just annoying. That coupled with the random moments you have to hold “triangle” for a series of switches always rubbed me the wrong way.

DOWNRIGHT DISAPPOINTING… uh.. kwark.

Final Fantasy VII Remake obviously has a great foundation and pretty great framework. The music is great, it's a blast to play, and the characters really resonate. But there are still some aspects of this game that make it feel a little less than game of the year. These complaints might be less of an issue than I am making it. The game is what it is, and I am easily going to clock in at about 90 hours for both regular and hard modes. Still. STILL. There are just a few things that were completely disappointing, and not just from an old fan, but as a current gen gamer.

My biggest complaint is married together and baked into the design of the game, namely Midgar and Chapters. Final Fantasy has always felt like it was about exploring not just a story, but the world it exists in. In the first 9 entries to the series, this was done by giving the player a chance to get lost on its world map, looking for towns, roaming through forests. You had to use your imagination to fill the gaps, but that wasn’t a bad thing. As the entries iterated, the worlds got bigger, and so did their stories. They had lore and depth. With the release of 10, this all changed. In the 10th game, the story was suddenly on rails, the only direction you could move in was forward. It took all of the exploration away in favor of level design and pacing. I remember thinking that this was the beginning of the end for a series I loved. With the release of 12, it felt a little better, but mostly it was just an offline version of the massively popular MMORPG formula. It felt more rote and less like exploration. With the 13th entry, it was back to the rails. It began to feel like the creators sought only to make an experience where the characters and story where the vehicle, and the world was just the background. In 15, this would change somewhat, but it was also an experiment for them that ended in failure. They tried to give us an open world governed by a chapter system. But, despite their best efforts, they couldn’t breathe life into the world of 15. They tried to spread the world and its characters across too many dimensions. There was an anime series, a full length movie prequel, missing chapters introduced as DLC, and even a mobile game. A broken chimera. I think the success of 10 and their failure to create a modern, open world game is what ended up making 7 Remake what it is. A game on rails.

Before the games release, the game designers touted that Midgar was now a place that could be fully experienced. For me, this couldn’t have been further from the truth. It was just a series of narrow hallways masquerading as a city. The people in the background make noise and act like they live there, but they don’t move, goto work on a schedule, ride the trains, or even run stores. You can’t interact with them. They are just mouthpieces. Because the game runs by chapters, you have almost no ability to explore anything that doesn’t have to do with the immediate story. The characters will chide you for going the “wrong direction” and the game will outright stop you from wandering too far. “No no, you fool, the GAME is over HERE”. In the original game, Midgar is partially just an introduction to the world, characters, and battle system. But really, it was the beating heart of the entire game world and story just as much as the characters that live in it and run Shinra. The remake seems to have forsaken that in favor of story beats. Outside of a few distinct places, most of Midgar just feels like window dressing. Wall Market is obviously a delight, but the entirety of Midgar should have been like Wall Market. You should be able to get lost in the back streets or take the wrong train. Shinra headquarters gives you little glimpse into the way people on the upper plates live and work, but yet again they are just mannequins. 

Games today give you vibrant open worlds to explore. You can jump on rooftops and glide over large swaths of land. The way in which Midgar was designed leaves little to the imaginationa as compared to the original. The graphics are crisp and every pipe and air conditioner feels like they might actually do something, but you can’t follow that pipe anywhere or walk down alleyways and talk to vagrants. Old games got a pass on size and depth because their limitations were obvious, often baked into whatever the genre was. If it was a brawler, you walk down streets beating people up. In racer, you play the track. But RPG’s were one of the few where you would be expected to explore the edges of its world. With new generation games, the choice to stop exploration in a RPG feel less like a limitation of raw power and more like a  design decision. I would have preferred a game in which Midgar was a place to see and explore and interact with. Where I could haggle with one vendor over something found in another. Where I could watch the day cycle send people back and forth work. But Midgar wasn’t their focus. Telling you a story was. And as fun as that was, it was so disappointing to find that the original game gave you more by letting your mind wander past its graphical limitations than the remake did do by making the decision to limit your ability to physically explore visible areas. Instead of letting a visible wall stop you from going somewhere, an invisible force just puts a stop to your antics and tells you to get back to work. Maybe it's just psychological, but it is maddening. The physical world of 7 was just as important as its story and characters, but the story got to lead the show, and to me this feels off balance and off brand.

THE TAKEAWAY

This is a good game. A well made game for the most part. It's rough in places, but not so rough that it really hurts the end result. Final Fantasy 7 Remake is actually a showcase of talent that comes out of Square-Enix and despite the fact that I feel like they either bite off more than they can chew or completely misunderstand their core fanbase, they are still great artists. I often question whether game designers at big companies are customer service machines that should give us the product we demand or artists that deserve to create in a space that we support. Remake reminds me why I am both supportive but vocal. They may never hear me, but I want to know I said something. Still, it ends up being more than the sum of its parts. The game hums along like a well made machine. It takes time to remind fans of key moments, interjects tons of surprises that don’t entirely offend its base, and ultimately is never boring. What more could you ask from a game? Well, as it turns out, a lot. And I have so much more to say about the actual story content of this game and of Final Fantasy as a whole. If I didn’t mention some aspect here, it's probably because I want to discuss it in a way that may ruin the story, so look for the 3rd and final entry next week.

[virgilsinferno]

SPILLR » CHAPTER ONE

important :: this is a horror fic and might contain triggering content. proceed with caution.

tw :: choking, getting chased (please let me know if i missed any)

word count :: 3073

notes :: i am not entirely sure with how many chapters there will be, but if you want to be removed from the taglist or added, just lmk.

intro

The year is 2058.

A new social networking site had been on the rise. It’s fairly new, existing for barely a month, and yet it had gotten people of all ages signing up to create an account. The site is renowned for the amount of gossip posted by its users; falsehoods so intricately woven that users and non users would find it hard not to believe them. Then again, Virgil had a theory that people’s IQs were decreasing.

There was a rumor going around that the site must have magical abilities. People also use it to vent, and users report a much lighter feeling similar to a relaxed state after doing so.

Where have their brain cells gone? It’s called being able to get something off of your chest, not magic.

Almost everyone he knew had an account. Scratch that, everyone he knew had an account. He had the basics like everyone else: Facebook, Twitter, Instagram, et cetera. The one site he refused to be on was Spillr.

He had his doubts.

Except he was the only one left in the entire school who didn’t have a Spillr account, and though the students were nice enough to not tease him too much about it (playfully, of course), he couldn’t help but feel anxious. So he gave in. Everyone at school would freak out when they hear the news that he’s created an account. Just to be sure, he didn’t give out too much personal information and even created a new email account to use for the sign up.

SPILLR

Create Your Account

First Name: Nunya

Last Name: Business

Date of Birth (MM/DD/YYYY): 05/24/2030

Username: iinfernhoee

Email: thisisafakeemail @ gmail.com

Password: uhpassword

Confirm Password: uhpassword

☐ I accept the Terms of Use and Privacy Policy

SIGN UP

Red.

The fake information he had typed turned red, and there was a note above the “Sign Up” button.

The note read: “Sorry! It appears you have used incorrect information. Please accept the Terms of Use and Privacy Policy. Try again.”

What kind of crap-filled hell was he getting himself into? That sounds creepy.

“Well fuck you, you shitty site. No way am I signing up now.” Virgil muttered. He closed the tab and turned off his laptop, then grabbed his backpack. He had a feeling this would be another day jam-packed with unnerving social situations.

Rushing past the kitchen, his dad tossed him a sandwich in a ziplock bag. “Eat breakfast on the way to school!” He yelled out, to which Virgil responded with a two-fingered salute— a greeting, a goodbye, and a “maybe”.

His school being a 5 minute run away was both a blessing and a curse. A blessing since he doesn’t have to wake up as early, nor does he have to take the bus. A curse since he’s always running late. The time was 6:56 am, and classes start at 7 am.

No, it was 6:55.

6:54.

6:53.

6:52.

6:51.

6:50.

Darn, watch must be broken. Virgil continued to run, a little bit startled by the stunt his watch just pulled on him. Not funny at all. It was almost like something weird was going on.

He arrived at school at the exact same time the bell rang. It usually did that 10 minutes before class started.

10 minutes before class… started? He’s supposed to be late, no way is it possible for time to go backwards.

Students hurried to get to first period. He wasn’t as determined as they were, but tuition is expensive so he had to. The dimly lit hallways gave him an eerie vibe. There was silence and noise at the same time, yet he didn’t know how that was possible. Virgil put his headphones on and put his playlist on shuffle. Where had they come from? Did he even bring his headphones in the first place? It was difficult to recall. To him, it felt like time fucked with his ability to remember anything that had happened before he got to school. No worries, at least he’s got something that will make him feel more at ease.

Virgil walked with his head down, looking at the ground and watching his feet walk through the familiar halls. The same boring floor pattern stretched for miles, and he was starting to think that he’s never going to get to class on time. He had 10 minutes. He can walk at a normal pace.

No one spoke to him. It was alright, it’s not like he’s going to interact with them anyways. He only had one friend and he didn’t even go to school there. They were a lot similar than one would initially expect; both of them disliked socializing with people and despised loud noises. If he were to be completely honest, their parents forced them to talk to each other since they’re neighbors and have no interest in talking to other kids their age but he only agreed when he saw that his neighbor is actually hella cute.

Of course he’s not going to out himself when there is this lingering fear of disapproval, so it remains a secret.

Speaking of lingering fear, there seemed to be thoughts of something that continued to gnaw at him, although he wasn’t sure what it is that he’s so worried about. His thoughts presented nothing. It is always in a state of chaos but also blank at the same time, so he tried to focus on the music playing instead. At this point, he’ll believe that whatever he’s thinking of that’s bothering him so much aren’t from his own thoughts. Sure he’s got stuff that’s going on in his mind as well that’s difficult to block, but that’s coming from the current environment he’s in. Nothing could stress him more than a place filled with people and noises filling every nook and cranny from all the chatter.

Upon walking in the classroom, he noticed that the seat next to his was taken by an unfamiliar person. He finds it difficult to remember names, but it’s a lot easier to recall faces. This person was a complete stranger to him. Not that he talked to people, though. He felt that it was best to avoid this guy so the stranger wouldn’t start a conversation with him. It’s what most people that sit next to him attempt to do, but they could rarely get a word out of him, so they give up trying.

For some reason, he struggled to pay attention to anything that was going on. His headphones were now hidden in his backpack and an open notebook lay on his desk. His fingers gripped a purple glitter pen, probably having a mind of its own as it danced across the page creating doodles that he’d later on look back at and cringe.

It was almost like for a moment, he felt at ease.

Looking around, he saw that everyone was too busy paying attention to whatever the teacher was saying. That was already worrying. Not everyone paid attention, especially people at the back. Not that paying attention during class was a bad thing. Their eyes were glued to the front, all of them sitting still— unmoving. Another thing, dark liquid spilled onto the floor and the tumbler that contained said liquid fell onto the floor with a clang. No one flinched in shock or even noticed that there was pitch black liquid seeping into the floor cracks. The owner of the tumbler was a girl with bleached blonde hair that sat at the very front. She didn’t pick it up.

The liquid kept inching closer to him, and his brain screamed “RUN” but his body stayed frozen. At first glance, it looks relatively harmless. Anyone would assume that it was either soda, juice, or some weird drink like BLK Water.

What’s even more strange and unsettling about his current situation is the fact that the shadows of everything in the room started creeping slowly towards him, approaching him with a speed that was simply unacceptable in his books. If you wanna scare him, do it fast so he doesn’t have time to experience the fear and anxiety that sets in when he realizes what’s going to happen.

Virgil carefully placed his things back in his backpack. He kept a close eye on everything that was moving in his direction, just in case. He zipped his bag unhurriedly at a pace that could compete with the shadows. Noise might make them move faster, so he limited the noise he created as best he can.

Movement was another thing he limited. The slower the movement, the higher the chance he’d be safe. He wasn’t sure if that was going to help his chances to get out, but better to be safe than sorry. His pace mimicked the shadows, but they were getting too close to him. He had to act fast and he had to do it now.

His feet avoided any dark spots on the floor, only stepping on what he was sure was floor. He dashed out of the room and tried his best not to look back. Keyword: tried. He looked back and saw that the shadows were now chasing him. He ran as far as his feet could take him, retracing his steps.

Virgil stopped to breathe. He was outside now. Back to where he stood when the bell rang. His thoughts were going wild and his heart was racing. There were no shadows following him. Only silence and the weight of his backpack pulling down on his right shoulder.

Why was he so ready to accept that there were shadows literally coming for him? He must’ve imagined all that there’s no way—

RIIINNNGG

“Oh come on,” Virgil kicked a pebble that was conveniently in front of his feet. “Stop ringing the stupid bell!”

Students hurried to get to first period. He wasn’t as determined as they were, and he sure as hell won’t step any closer inside the building. What was going on?

He checked the time on his watch. It was a digital watch, so he didn’t have to count the tiny lines to get the accurate time.

6:50 am.

If he’s not imagining all this, he might as well be dreaming. Jokes on them, 6:50 am was already done and it was forever ago. It should be like, maybe past 7:30 or something.

Virgil stood still, his eyes focused on his watch. Someone stepped into his personal space. He could see their shoes. He looked up to meet the eyes of his seatmate. The guy in class who he didn’t talk to, the total stranger he never met before. He was standing before him, an unreadable expression on his face.

“Virgil.” He said, testing out how the name sounded. “What an odd name. I like it.”

The stranger walked off, leaving Virgil to ponder on what the hell just happened and what he should do. He had his head down, his eyes staring at his shoes. Pitch black liquid crept towards his direction. He furrowed his brows, wondering if that shit was going to happen again. He turned around, ready to run for his life again.

He was met with darkness.

So he did another 180° turn and was yet again, met with nothing but the dark void. Something was choking him. He could feel hands on his neck, pressing hardly. Virgil reached out in front of him to push off whoever was choking him but there was nothing. There were no hands on his neck. Breathing became difficult. His ears were ringing, and there was no one there to help him.

His eyes flew wide open. Pain shot throughout his entire body. The hands on his neck faded out of existence and he slowly regained his breathing. There was the feeling of wetness on his cheeks. He touched it and felt tear tracks. Was he crying just now?

Light peered through the curtains. It was almost blinding. He shielded his eyes from the light until they adjusted to the brightness. Everything felt warmer. He felt at ease.

The year is 2030.

May 24, 2030.

A new social networking site had been on the rise. It’s fairly new, existing for barely a month, and yet it had gotten people of all ages signing up to create an account. Logan was scrolling through his feed to pass the time, clearly aware of how many rumors there are on his feed alone, but it was entertaining to see people take them as fact. His good friend, Dmitri, had been the one to introduce him to the site. Dmitri was one of the more popular users. At first he refused to make an account, saying that gossip was not something he would ever partake in. His friend got him to sign up by telling him that his brother had a lot of blackmail material on his account. Everyone was right. It was addictive.

“Logan.” Virgil called out, his voice sounding hoarse.

He directed his attention to his friend. “You’re awake.”

“No shit, Sherlock.” Virgil grumbled and got off of the bed. He often got… unpleasant dreams, so he didn’t bother to look into it.

The layout of the room nearly threw him off. Perhaps he wasn’t as awake as he should be. His only friend, Logan, would invite him over from time to time. That’s where he’s currently at. He can’t recall falling asleep on Logan’s bed, nor can he remember anything that had happened before he fell asleep. All he knew was that he had a raging headache and a weird feeling that someone or something was watching him.

For some reason, his phone was charging on the other end of the room. He removed it from the charger and sat down on the bed with his legs crossed, slightly curious as to what the hell Logan’s looking at on his phone. All of his attention was on the screen before him. That wasn’t very Logan-like.

Out of all the people he knew, Logan is the sole person who could leave the house without his phone. Not that he knew many people.

Virgil yawned. His eyelids still felt heavy, so he decided that maybe a quick splash of water onto his face would help. Logan’s room was connected to the bathroom, which was a good thing since he really did not feel like walking up and down the stairs.

He let the faucet run, staring at his reflection in the mirror and wondering why he was feeling so weird. Also, his hair was a mess, but that was quickly fixed with a comb. There were still splotches of makeup on his face, which was a sign that he must not have wiped it all off before falling asleep. He washed his face, getting rid of the unwanted makeup, but unable to shake off the feeling that there were eyes trained on him.

Going back into Logan’s room, he spotted his friend still scrolling through his phone. His hands were still wet so he sprinkled Logan with some water. No reaction. He did it again, but this time earned a glare then was ignored again. Third time’s the charm, right? He did it once more and received a grumble in response.

Virgil pushed Logan to the side and sat down on one half of the beanbag, looking over his friend’s shoulder to see what was so interesting that he couldn’t pay attention to him. He was on… Spillr? That’s new. Instead of asking him a million questions about what he was doing on that app, he simply let Logan do his thing.

Minutes passed and Virgil got bored of sitting there, doing nothing. He could go get his phone, but he felt too lazy to get up. Plus, Logan still hasn’t acknowledged him. For a moment, Logan stopped scrolling and had a look of confusion plastered on his face. Virgil would’ve asked him what was wrong, but he caught a glimpse of Logan’s screen. That’s not right.

“I thought you said that you won’t ever make a Spillr account?” Logan questioned, showing his friend the profile page that couldn’t be anyone else’s but Virgil’s.

Virgil Armati @iinfernhoee

bio :: pls don’t try to talk to me 

📍 bed 

58 following || 12 followers 

Joined May 24, 2030

“I didn’t.” Virgil managed to say. He wasn’t sure how to react, but he knew for sure he was panicking internally. Why would anyone make him an account?

Out of curiosity, he dashed to his phone and went through his apps.

There it was. An app with an eye icon that was unmistakably Spillr. He didn’t download that. He was a hundred percent sure that he did not download that app. He opened it to see if he did have an account, and unfortunately enough, he did.

That was probably the biggest plot twist of 2030 so far. He saw that he had 21 notifications. 12 followers, 6 messages, and 3 mentions. He would’ve said that the creepiest part about the app was that the home button had an eye icon instead of the typical house icon that any normal social networking site would have, but the fact that he even has notifications creeped him out more.

He went through the messages. The first one was from the app itself, which he didn’t bother to read. There were two that had nothing but links, so he deleted those. The last three were from Roman, Logan’s brother.

romano @thegayprince

| HI VIIRGIILLL

| IK WE DON’T TALK BUT BC UR LOGAN���S FRIEND YOU HAVE TO FOLLOW ME

| :DDD

Read 6:10 pm

There’s no point in replying. He moved on to his mentions, and those were basically people from school posting about how he finally made an account. No point in replying to those either. He checked the settings. His real name was used, real phone number, real birthdate, and real email. He figured that it was best to delete the account and the app, just in case.

Well, he made the right decision.

Perhaps his mind was playing tricks on him or his phone was broken ‘cause once he deleted the app, his phone glitched and for a split second, he swore he saw that all of his apps turned into Spillr. Nothing a bit more sleep can fix.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

taglist :: @anon-e-has-a-tmblr @baddeceit-ohsorrydeceit @but-jesuschrist-im-never-good @captainlilithrouge @cats-fandom-universe-room @cryptidcherrry @deceit-is-a-lil-bitch @effortiswhatmatters @human-being-kinda @insanetentacles @keeshy-ekho @lemon-towns @lesbian-aesthics-are-my-aesthic @lokisuggests @lopaviro @lucifer-just-needs-a-hug @mychemicalpanicattheemo @prplzorua @roanoaks @rosepyxeltumbls @starrycari @strickenwithclairvoyance @suyun-doo @therealmoshar @theultimatemomfriend @unicornlogansanders @what-even-is-thiss @why-should-i-tell-youu2​

thanks for reading ❤ sorry if there are mistakes lmao

[katastroficwriter]

I have a headcanon that Kokichi loves baking gingerbread men and gingerbread houses on Christmas, and that Kiibo has never understood why. Later Kokichi reveals that the reason is because he used to make them with his older brother, who he doesn't get to see that much anymore, and it reminds him of the time when they were younger.

Humans are fond of asking strange questions in the hopes of getting a glimpse of how other humans view them. One such example would be, “If you were food, what would you be?”

“I think Ouma-kun would definitely be an eggplant,” Yumeno declares. “It’s purple, and its name is misleading–a lie! Eggs are not long and purple, yet it’s called an eggplant.”

Kiibo somehow found himself trapped in such a discussion. And since Ouma wasn’t around, they were the ones trying to find a fitting food that best describes the supreme leader.

“Actually Yumeno-san, it’s called an eggplant because in its earlier stages, the plant clearly resembles an egg before growing elongated and turning purple. That’s how it got its name,” everyone stared at the robot, who never spoke during the discussion until now. “Though I agree with you, it does resemble Ouma-kun to some extent. Like how it seems like it’s deceiving people, when in truth, it’s just hiding its honesty.”

“Honesty? Him? I seriously don’t understand how you could see something pure like that in a degenerate male like Ouma-kun,” Chabashira huffed. “I thought you of all people would know how terrible he is since he targets you the most.”

“I suppose that’s precisely why I can say that much about Ouma-kun since he hangs around me frequently,” Kiibo resisted the urge to roll his eyes. ‘You noticed such a detail yet you didn’t do anything to assist me.’

“What’s this, what’s this? Am I being summoned?” Ouma popped from behind the android, grinning when the latter almost fell off his seat from shock. “Man, you guys really can’t go one day without calling my name, huh~”

“Ugh…speak of the Devil…” groaned the magician.

“Don’t you dare pull any more of your nasty shit, twerp!” Iruma pointed an accusatory finger at the newcomer.

“Oh wooow, pot calling kettle black. At least my entire existence isn’t a crime against the universe like yours is!” Ouma sneered at the inventor with disgust.

“Y-you didn’t have to put it that waaaay–!!!” whined the blonde.

“Knock it off Ouma, you just got here and you’re already pissing everyone off!” Momota slammed his hands on the table.

Ouma tapped his chin, smiling such an innocent and sugary sweet smile that would no doubt trick anyone who didn’t know him. “How are you so sure that that’s what everyone else is feeling, Momota-chan? Stop assuming everyone shares the same opinion as you all the time!”

“Now, now, let’s not fight,” Akamatsu raised two placating hands. “It’s almost Christmas after all–”

“Pfft, Christmas? What are you acting all goody-goody for exactly, Akamatsu-chan?” Ouma tilted his head to the side playfully. “…Is it Santa? How embarrassing! You’re already a high schooler but you still believe in a big faker like Santa Claus?”

“N-no, that’s not–”

“Alright, that’s it! C’mere!” The astronaut got out of his seat and charged his way towards the supreme leader’s general direction.

“Uwaaah! Momota-chan’s turned into a BULL-Y!!!”

“Ghhrk! I’m not a bull OR a bully! I’m Momota Kaito, Luminary of the Stars!!!”

“So you keep saying ad nauseam. Don’t you have other voice lines? Then again, I guess I can’t expect too much from a side character! Nishishi~!”

“Who you calling side character?! I’m the hero!”

Kiibo observed his two classmates run around the limited space of the dining hall until Ouma eventually got bored of the chase and decided to run out the exit that led outside of the school building, leaving Momota tired and out of breath.

“Idiot,” Harukawa uttered under her breath before heading out the other door.

“Hey!” huffed the astronaut.

Once the commotion had settled, everyone left the dining hall one by one, unknowingly leaving behind their robotic classmate, not that the latter minded. Kiibo leaned against his seat, closing his eyes.

“If they asked me, I’d say that Ouma-kun resembled a gingerbread man more,” he murmured to himself. “…Small, fragile, yet proud and untouchable.”

– [Run, Run, Run, as fast as you can. You’ll never catch me, I’m the gingerbread man!] –

Usually, Kiibo spent nights cooped up in his room just reading the books he retrieved from the school library. His learning is composed of developing his social skills through his everyday interactions with his peers, and the other one pertains to diligent studying through research. However, he was feeling rather rebellious tonight, that’s why he decided to take a tour around the school instead. In the day, he frequently finds himself getting swept along his classmates’ pace, so he never really had the time to just roam around and observe the environment on his own. That’s one of the advantages of being incapable of sleep, he supposes.

He was blindly following the path that led to the dining hall after making his rounds in the courtyard.

“Hm?” He carefully climbed the steps and noticed that light was spilling from the cracks of the door. ‘Is someone in the dining hall? What could they possibly be doing up this late?’

The android silently pushed the door open so as not to alarm the room’s occupant, and was surprised to find no one in the room. He shut the door behind him just as silently as he had opened it and walked towards the middle of the room. That was when he heard the sound of metal against metal. Perhaps a whisk lightly scraping against a bowl?

‘In the kitchen, huh…’ Kiibo carefully made his way towards the kitchen. He opened the door just a crack, and was surprised to find the supreme leader whisking a white mixture with practiced ease.

His hair was pulled back in a small ponytail and his bangs were kept out of his face by a set of white barrettes. Instead of his usual tattered white gakuran or his pajamas, Ouma was wearing a plain white shirt, a pair of black basketball shorts, and a light blue apron to keep the mess off of his apparel as he whisked away.

“Get in and close the door, it’s bothering me,” Kiibo hit his face against the door from shock. He was being completely stealthy, yet somehow he got found out anyway.

“S-sorry…” murmured the android as he entered the kitchen. “How did you know I was here?”

“I felt like I was being watched,” Ouma made a show of tapping the white and fluffy mixture out of the whisk before continuing. “Also, I saw you walk out the dorms earlier. I knew you were the only one out there gallivanting around the campus while everyone’s asleep.”

“I wasn’t gallivanting, I was taking a stroll,” huffed Kiibo. “What are you doing in the kitchen this late at night? Preparing a late night snack?”

“I suppose you can call it that. It’s actually meant to be a surprise, but you ruined it the moment you entered the kitchen. Then again, you can’t exactly read the atmosphere since you’re just a robot. ” the supreme leader moved to pour the white mixture into separate and smaller bowls evenly. “Anyway, since you’re already here, you might as well give me a hand instead of standing around being all useless.”

“You didn’t have to be so rude about it,” Kiibo frowned, but made his way towards the shorter teen regardless of the other teen’s robophobic statement. “…What do you want me to do, exactly?”

“Print photos of our classmates.”

“What for?”

Ouma raised his head from his task of mixing purple food coloring in one of the small bowls and rolled his eyes. “Gee, Kiiboy, I wonder what? What could I possibly need our classmate’s ugly mugshots at 2 am, some bowls of thick icing and a bunch of food coloring for?”

Kiibo wanted to call him out for his rude behavior, but that was when he noticed that there was tray of faceless gingerbread men and women on Ouma’s left. “…Oh.”

The supreme leader snorted before covering the purple icing with plastic wrap and moved on to the next bowl. “Good to see that you’re not as dumb as you look.”

“I take offense to that!” Kiibo crossed his arms in indignation. “Anyway…I don’t need to print a photo of you, correct?”

“Yeah.”

“Got it.”

Whirrrrrr.

Out comes a clear photo of Chabashira, Yumeno, and Yonaga meditating inside the aikido master’s dojo from the android’s lips. “Here. I thought it would be more efficient to take photos of my memory where more of our classmates would fit in the frame.”

Ouma let out a whistle, “So you really can be useful when you put your mind to it. Good job. Anyway, place it where I can see it so I can mix the colors right.”

Truth be told, the unexpected praise from the trouble making supreme leader took him off guard and made him feel rather conscious of himself. He looked away in an attempt to hide his embarrassment. “Alright.”

He moved to the other side of the counter and placed the photo right in front of his companion, but not too close to the bowls so as not to dirty it. He started printing more photos while watching Ouma mix more colors into the bowls he had laid out.

“You’re not going to just run out of batteries after printing everything, right?” Ouma lifted his eyes for a moment before going back to mix blue food coloring in the icing.

“Of course not. I have long since optimized my energy efficiency after I–”

“After your batteries died while climbing up the stairs?” Ouma snickered as he was reminded of the day where everyone found the robot passed out by the dormitory staircase while making a ridiculous yet inhumanly possible pose.

“…Yes. That. Let’s never speak of that again,” Kiibo shuddered at the shameful memory. “A-anyway, what I mean is, using my functions will no longer take up too much of my power like before.”

“Great! Then that means you can help me load these piping bags with these suckers,” Ouma grinned as he lifted a bowl of colored icing. “You gotta be quick though, this thing hardens like concrete.”

Kiibo wasn’t really well-versed with cooking or baking, so it took him a while to get a hang of filling the piping bags with icing without getting some on his fingers. He thought the supreme leader would mock him for his clumsiness, but it seems like Ouma was completely focused with the task. It didn’t take them too long to finish, thankfully.

“Gimme your hand.” Ouma beckoned the android with a hand.

“Huh?” Kiibo stared at him in confusion, his ahoge curling into a question mark to reflect his curiosity.

Ouma rolled his eyes before pulling the robot’s hand to his mouth and licked the icing off his fingers.

“I don’t like wasting ingredients.” Was what he said before directing his attention to the tray of gingerbread, not even giving the albino time to process what had happened.

‘W-what was that all about?!’ Kiibo inwardly screamed as he inspected his hand.

“Hey! Earth to Kiiboy, work’s not over!” Ouma easily dragged the android back to the present with his usual demanding tone. “I intend to work you down to your last percent for ruining the surprise.”

“Y-you’re saying that as if I did it on purpose,” Kiibo grumbled. “I didn’t even expect that you would be the one inside the kitchen. I wasn’t aware that you were skilled with baking either.”

“Mmmm… Not really,” Ouma hummed as he passed him a macaroon yellow piping bag. “I’m not good at baking in general. I only learned how to bake gingerbread because of family.”

Aquamarine lenses lit up with interest. “Family?”

“Nope. I’m not going to say anything more until you start decorating,” Ouma stuck out a tongue as he waved a white bag. “That said, you handle the girls, and I handle the guys.”

Kiibo stared down at the piping bag in his hand before nodding. “Fair enough.”

– [I ran from the baker and his wife too. You’ll never catch me, not any of you.] –

Decorating gingerbread men, or in his case, women, was surprisingly fun and fulfilling. With the photos as his guide, it was as if he were giving life to a coloring book. And seeing his classmate’s faces staring up at him with a pleasant smile somehow made him feel warm in its metaphorical sense.

“Mmm, that looks impressive coming from a newbie,” Kiibo met the other teen’s gaze, eyes wide from mild surprise. “Have you seen gingerbread men somewhere before? I thought that since you were a robot, you’d try to copy the photo exactly as you see it.”

“Oh, um…” the albino found himself looking at the tiny Akamatsu on the tray before responding. “Back when I was still in the developing stages–a child, so to speak, the Professor would leave the television on a kids’ channel for me to watch while he worked on his other projects. It just so happened that one of the songs that played for me was the Gingerbread Man.”

“Heeeh, is that so?” Ouma moved to grab a green piping bag. “So you learned things appropriate to your ‘age’ just like a human.”

“Yes. My development was purposefully modeled after a human child’s. Though the only difference is that I was able to walk as soon as I was active,” Kiibo smiled, pleased that he was finally able to have a decent conversation with the other boy. He set the piping bag on the counter since he was already finished with his own batch. “Hey, Ouma-kun.”

“Mmm? What is it?” the supreme leader still had his eyes on his handiwork, decorating the gingerbread men with utmost precision.

“…About your family…is it okay for me to ask about them?” Kiibo fidgeted, ahoge drooping nervously.

Ouma paused to glance at Kiibo’s tray before heaving out a resigned sigh. “Eh, you did your work. So I don’t see why not. What about them do you want to hear?”

“Umm…I hope I’m not being rude by saying this, but…” Kiibo averted his eyes before continuing. “I’ve actually heard from the others that you were actually orphaned, so…”

The android flinched when the shorter teen suddenly threw an empty piping bag against the counter. But despite this, his voice remained calm when he spoke. “You mean since I’m orphaned, I wouldn’t have a family to speak of right?”

“…Y-yes…” Kiibo found himself staring at the ground, wondering if he’d triggered a mine.

“Technically you’re right. But let me tell you something–family isn’t restricted to blood relations. You should know this by now, since you’re a robot,” Ouma puffed his chest. “Yeah. I'm an orphan. But everyone in the orphanage was my family. Just like how you and your Professor are family too.”

Kiibo’s eyes widened with awe. That’s right. He and Professor Iidabashi…they are family. He’s referred to him as his father from time to time, but called him by his title out of respect. Perhaps…he should start calling him as ‘father’ more frequently.

“…That being said, I really do have a family…now, at least,” Ouma turned his head to flash the android a rare sincere smile. “I got adopted by a baker. Their son–my older brother, I guess, taught me how to bake gingerbread houses and gingerbread men since that was the only thing he knew how to bake well at the time. It was his way of bonding with me I suppose.”

“Oh!” gasped the android. “How are they like? Your family?”

“They’re good people. I like them.” Ouma hummed, tapping a finger against his chin. “Big brother was kinda annoying though. Whenever it was Christmas, he would annoy me until I finally agreed to bake some gingerbread with him.”

“So it has become some sort of a family tradition,” Kiibo smiled. “…I’m glad that you were taken in by such a loving family, Ouma-kun.”

Ouma looked away in an attempt to hide his blushing face. “S-shut up. I wasn’t joking about big brother being annoying, you know! Always talking about baking and studying abroad to improve his skills…”

“Where is he right now?”

“…France,” Ouma set another piping bag on the counter, gently this time. “Would you believe that? He actually went abroad to study more baking techniques just like he wanted.”

…

….

The supreme leader suddenly grabbed the hem of his apron to hide his tears. “We…we haven’t baked together in a long time. It’s annoying. But I actually missed it. Those annoying days…”

Kiibo hastily searched for the roll of paper towel Ouma had prepared earlier and pulled two sheets from it, which he handed the supreme leader. “Ouma-kun, here…”

The raven-haired Ultimate simply nodded his thanks and dabbed his eyes with the paper towel. Kiibo wasn’t sure how to react in this situation, so all he could do was rub comforting circles on his classmate’s back as he cried. It took a couple of minutes for Ouma’s crying to die down. He left the android’s side in favor of washing his face by the sink in order to hide the evidence of his vulnerability.

“You saw nothing.”

Kiibo nodded. “I didn’t.”

Ouma flashed him an appreciative smile before re-tying his hair. “Anyway, enough of that sappy talk. We still have a house to assemble. Let’s get working!”

As he listened to the leader’s instructions, Kiibo couldn’t help but smile to himself. He’s gotten to understand more about him…their class’s very own gingerbread man.

– [They were all hungry and ready to eat, but the gingerbread man was quick on his feet.] –

“Huh? Isn’t this…me?” Akamatsu regarded the miniature version of herself, which was standing by the gingerbread house. “The attention to detail is amazing…!”

“Ah, Gonta’s here too!” the entomologist cheered.

“Ku ku ku…It seems everyone is here,” Shinguuji chuckled. “Wonderful, truly wonderful!”

When everyone entered the dining hall, they were surprised to find the gingerbread display on the table. They couldn’t help but crowd around it with wonder and amusement as they admired the accuracy of the gingerbread men and women’s designs.

“Did you prepare this, Toujou-san?” Amami turned to look at the maid, who was standing just behind him.

“That’s…”

“Uwaaah! What’s this? Gingerbread?!” Ouma boisterously barged into the room, eyes sparkling with delight. “Toujou-chan made this didn’t she? I don’t think anyone else here can cook besides her!”

Toujou regarded the supreme leader with a neutral look before bowing slightly. “…Yes. Since it is almost Christmas, I believed that preparing gingerbread for everyone would fulfill everyone’s wishes of having an enjoyable Christmas.”

“As expected of the Ultimate Maid! Only she’s capable of pulling this off!” Ouma praised.

His smile widened when Toujou offered him another bow. “It is my pleasure to serve.”

It was probably unhealthy, but they decided to just have gingerbread for breakfast and warm cocoa or milk to go with it. Kiibo, who was unable to eat, found himself staring back at his smaller, more edible version in interest.

“Toujou-chan’s really nice, huh! She even baked you one even though you can’t eat~” Ouma took a bite out of his gingerbread version’s leg as he sat himself beside the lone robot. “Or maybe that’s actually more cruel. Giving you something that’s meant to be eaten, yet you couldn’t eat.”

“I can at least enjoy its scent,” Kiibo huffed. “The smooth blend of spices and sweetness…it’s quite pleasant.”

Ouma shook his head, “Stop. You’re making me feel bad.”

“I didn’t mean to put it that way,” Kiibo rolled his eyes. “Though I would appreciate it if you could explain to me how eating this feels like.”

“Mmm…” Ouma mercilessly bit off his gingerbread counterpart’s head this time with a crunch. “Although it breaks off with a loud crunch, but it’s actually pretty chewy–melts in your mouth too. As soon as you open your mouth, you just get hit with the spices, and the more you chew the sweeter it gets. You can taste the spices but it’s not spicy at all.”

“Thank you for your input.” The android nodded, taking in the information. “Umm… why did you lie about it earlier?”

“Wow, I wasn’t aware that we were playing 20 questions, I’m leaving–”

“Ouma-kun.”

The supreme leader blinked once, twice, before heaving out an exasperated sigh.

“…I ordered Toujou-chan to help me hide the gingerbread dough while I had it cool overnight over the past few days before I was able to bake it last night,” Ouma popped the remaining body parts of his gingerbread self in his mouth. “No one would eat it if they found out I was the one who made it, after all.”

“Oh…”

“Mmhm! Besides, it’s more entertaining this way,” Ouma yawned. “And needless to say, if you dare speak a soul about this, I’ll have you assassinated by my men.”

“There’s no need to go to that extent,” frowned Kiibo. “If you wanted me to keep it as a secret, then all you have to do is ask.” He passed his gingerbread to the sleepy supreme leader to represent the metaphorical olive branch.

“You’re giving me your share?” Ouma regarded the android with amusement. “Not the others, but me?”

“You’re already here anyway. I don’t see the need to go anywhere else,” Kiibo shrugged. “And although I can’t eat this, I still appreciate that you took the time to make one for me.”

“Mmm, is that so?” Ouma nibbled on the cookie’s ahoge. “It’s actually quite rude to return gifts, you know. Well, since you’re a robot, I guess it can’t be helped. There’s one thing you can do to show me how grateful you are, though! I’ll let you guess what it is~” He completely bit off the ahoge, giving the android a mischievous smile.

“O-oh! Yes, you’re right,” Kiibo shifted into a more erect sitting position and gave a small bow, smiling as he said: “Thank you, Ouma-kun.”

               – [And that was the end of the Gingerbread Man] –

Rrrrrring! Rrrrrrrrrriiiing!!

Click.

“Kiibo? Did you need something?”

Hearing the Professor’s voice on the line made his metaphorical heart swell with gratitude and adoration.

“F…father,” Kiibo’s grip on the phone tightened, willing his blush to go away lest he gets caught. “I’ve called to greet you a Merry Christmas.” His forehead creased with worry when the line went silent. “Father…?”

“…M-Merry Christmas, son.”

Kiibo stood in a more confident manner and wore a wide smile. He and his father ended up having a long conversation, with Kiibo just sharing his experiences the past few days with his only family. Iidabashi on the other line was resisting the urge to cry as he listened to his son speak with much excitement.

[dhominis]

Life updates! Rambling, happy. CW for disordered eating and Bad Family Dynamics. (Happy despite this.)

I’ve been in my new apartment for a while; it‘s amazing and I love having a place that is mine. A few days after I moved in, I stayed over at my girlfriend’s house because I didn’t really want to put the effort into going all the way back to my apartment and I had this thought: I want to go home.

This is not something I’ve experienced before. Home always has been my parents’ house, and home’s always been a place for caution, for guardedness. It has not historically been a place I wanted to stay. It’s been a place that’s better than the alternatives, but never somewhere that was itself comforting.

...And now going home means I get to go into my room (and it’s mine, I would be entirely justified in being angry if someone went into it and looked through my things and took things and questioned me about what they found). And then I can reorganize my room if I want (I can move furniture around! I can buy furniture! I can throw broken things away if I want to!), I can cook something, take a shower without having to justify why I’m taking a shower, I can clean up the side yard if I’m restless, I can clean the apartment. I can be in my room on my phone talking to my girlfriend, and probably nobody is listening in, and if somebody is listening in that’s still not dangerous. I can go on a walk, I can go over to a friend’s place, I can meet people somewhere, and I don’t have to explain this.

I don’t have to be on guard.

Been doing social things – poly community and, uh, adjacent less-SFW communities. Socializing is... easier now. (A lot of things are easier!) I am still extremely awkward but not in an intractable way; I expect this to dissipate with practice. People like me. They’ll like me more when I have better social skills and this is achievable.

...I asked a cute girl what her favorite pathogen/parasite was (this was relevant to the conversation!) and she said she really liked botflies and just. I can’t. I have always had to be the one who brings up botflies! Talking about botflies historically has worked out really well for me – it’s a great filter? – and I am so incredibly enthused about this. (We’re getting coffee tomorrow. I really need evo-bio disease-bio friends, and she is smart and nice and extroverted and gives great hugs. Things like “asking cool people to get coffee with me” also are easier. And “sending an email” and “answering the phone” and a lot of things along those lines. There has been a strangely global reduction in inhibition and anxiety.)

I got a job. Not the call center one I mentioned, instead entry-level healthcare. It’s pretty much ideal! Learning skills, interacting with people, IIRC they’ll do some tuition reimbursement if I go into healthcare (that’ll help until I hit the FAFSA independent student age cutoff). Fast-paced work, twelve-hour shifts and free time on my days off. Not having to self-motivate. I think I need that right now. The person who suggested I apply for this job can model my brain surprisingly well.

(In some contexts better than I can. I hadn’t generated this as a career option, hadn’t thought it would be even sort of good until he explained how it might fit. A post a while ago: "...he understands, I think, the need to be active and moving, doing a lot of different things, short feedback cycles. For me – probably for him as well – high-intensity stressful periods of limited duration are regulating or calming, not harmful. I keep fantasizing about getting the job, just going nonstop at maximum intensity for those twelve-hour shifts, and then coming home and… not doing that. Being able to use the time for other things, hopefully having burned off some of the excess energy so I’m not pacing around organizing things really fast for twelve hours at home.”)

And they’re giving me health insurance after a few months.

It’s... I really need enrichment. I need to be busy. Right now I am not in a high-stress environment and I am waiting for things to happen, there is not much I can get done right now (lots of cooking, going on walks, occasional bodyweight exercise, self-teaching reading ECG strips, but I am not yet good at self-motivation). I am the human equivalent of a pretty competent border collie that will, if left without adequate stimulation, herd every squirrel in the neighborhood into your kitchen.

But I start work Monday, and after that things will be easier.

Almost everything has, in fact, been easy. I can feel many of the anxieties falling away, many of the maladaptive behaviors. I am investing effort in this, but not enough to merit the improvement.

I have been realizing that living with my parents took up so much mental bandwidth. The personality and cognitive and life-skills improvements that I’ve seen in the few brief periods I’ve been away from them... I should’ve left earlier, of course. I would have been okay. I didn’t know that before recently, but it would’ve have been better.

So the cognitive changes are substantial. Behavioral too. I have for a while had great difficulty in eating adequate food – I mean, often going a few days without eating, going months with inadequate caloric intake, rapid enough unintentional weight loss that doctors have been loudly concerned. (There is a physical thing that I have been blaming completely for this, but honestly it’s not just that, there’s an irrational aversion to eating. Caloric deprivation always makes me want to eat less – want to hoard food, conserve it for when I really need it. I go into a famine mindset very easily; when hungry, I find it difficult to alieve that food is available. And the physical problems are worsened by not wanting to eat. I tolerate food worse when I don’t make myself eat regularly.)

It’s not effortless; minor inconveniences tend to make me want to stop eating and I don’t ever really want food. (Cooking and baking my own food helps. It is easier to want to eat when eating is part of a skill-building process.) But now, and not before: I need adequate nutrition and when I don’t want to eat I can just tell myself no, you need food, you want to feed yourself, you don’t want to lose muscle mass, you don’t want to lose fat, you don’t have to conserve food because there will always be enough. And I miss meals sometimes, still... but when that happens, I can make myself eat when I notice. Peanut butter interspersed with enough water doesn’t really feel like food and I can pretty much always do that.

And sleeping. And physical activity. And social interaction. It is getting easier to give myself the things I need. Sometimes when you do not have any realistic chance of global comfort, when your life will despite your best efforts be almost unbearably unpleasant, choosing your own mode of suffering makes it easier to tolerate. Adjusting to a situation in which I do not need to expect suffering is... strange.

So – I got a job and an apartment and I’m finding a friend group and I am doing okay with finances, and long-term things will be okay, and my brain has so many things wrong with it but I am fixing myself.

This all has been startlingly easy so far and I am waiting for something to go wrong. This is prudent – something will go wrong eventually, I’ll be able to handle it but it will happen – and also just really neurotic. Still I’m less neurotic than at any other point in my life.

And I have health insurance! I probably can get an ADHD evaluation and treatment, therapy if I decide that’s a good idea, whatever. (Potential issue with ADHD treatment: I’d have to go to the pharmacy like every month, it would suck so much, I have never done this successfully. Thankfully there is a pharmacy in my workplace. I am so lucky.) And I have social supports, I have a community. My roommates are great. I have my partner; she’s unbelievably amazing.

Leaving has gone better than the realistic best-case scenarios I’d generated. It’s been like a month and there is definitely time for things to go badly but I also think things going badly will be less bad than I had expected it to be, if that makes sense.

I’m happy. I expect to stay that way.

[careerplus7]

Housekeeper - Cincinnati, OH 45229

Housekeeper - Cincinnati, OH 45229

#HR #jobopenings #jobs #career #hiring #Jobposting #LinkedIn #Jobvacancy #Jobalert #Openings #Jobsearch

At Cincinnati’s Ronald McDonald House, we have a culture of gratitude, fun, collaboration and compassion. The housekeeper must be a self-starter with strong attention to detail and – most importantly – passionate about what we do.

The housekeeping position is responsible for maintaining the high standard of cleanliness throughout the House. They will be responsible for cleaning hallways, floors, and emptying trash. They will also be responsible for cleaning common areas and laundry/linen service as needed. As part of the housekeeping team, this role may include other general cleaning duties, including cleaning rooms and/or other project work. The housekeeper will identify and communicate any maintenance or safety issues. The housekeeper will monitor and stock and maintain inventory of supplies including cleaning supplies and linens, and will give guidance and support to House volunteers.

THIS JOB MIGHT BE FOR YOU IF:

You are reliable and proud of your work.

You are meticulous about detail and accuracy while working effectively in a fast-paced environment.

You enjoy building relationships with a diverse group of people.

You have an upbeat and professional demeanor.

You are timely, great at prioritizing, and multi-tasking.

You have good communication skills.

You are highly motivated and a self-starter.

Have a service mentality.

You want to love what you do and make an impact!

Reports to: Housekeeping Manager

Job Qualifications:

At least 1-year related experience, including experience with a variety of cleaning products and tools.

Strong time management skills and proven history of workplace punctuality.

Self-directed and motivated.

Attention to detail and meticulous use of proper safety procedures.

Good interpersonal and communication skills.

Ability to work in a fast paced, ever-changing environment

Core Expectations: Lead with our Core Values (Collaboration, Gratitude, Integrity, Inclusion, Joy)

Competencies: Reliable, Attention to detail, Flexible; Able to manage multiple tasks simultaneously; Self-starter; Effective verbal communication skills; Compassionate; Personable and professional demeanor; Team player.

Key Requirements:

1. Foster a home-like environment that supports families in medical crisis, often dealing with sensitive, difficult and stressful situations. Exceed our guest’s expectations by acknowledging all guests with a friendly attitude while anticipating and responding promptly to the guest needs. Sometimes, it’s just a smile!

2. Ensure all operational and safety procedures are properly followed in the day-to-day execution of work. Safety is a priority. Use cleaning chemicals and equipment following all specified instructions and safety precautions.

3. Provide comfort to our families by maintaining a high standard of cleanliness in all areas of our House. Thoroughly and accurately complete daily and weekly cleaning task lists. Communicate with the manager on duty to determine daily needs, including but not limited to sweeping and mopping, emptying trash on the interior and exterior, cleaning guest rooms, cleaning public restrooms, cleaning common areas, cleaning kitchens and dining areas, and laundry. It’s all about the families and providing an incredible guest experience during a stressful time.

4. Contribute to the House team efforts by setting and meeting performance goals, maintaining positive, supportive and flexible working relationships with fellow staff and volunteers in our mutual pursuit of providing comfort and care to families of seriously ill or injured children being served by our facility. In an effort to stay up-to-date and further contribute to the team, the housekeeper will attend staff meetings.

5. Represent our House and culture in all interactions with guest families, volunteers, hospital staff and community members. This includes displaying professionalism, tactfulness, and being able to provide reliable and accurate information.

6. Maintain inventory of House supplies including linens, cleaning supplies, and other in-room items by monitoring supply usage, restocking levels, and submitting order requests to appropriate staff.

7. Effectively communicate facility issues, areas of concern, damages, or deficits to the Housekeeping Manager or Guest Services Manager on duty and facilities team.

8. Provide thoughtful leadership, assistance, and guidance to our devoted House volunteers.

9. Execute other House responsibilities as requested by the Housekeeping Manager, Guest Services Director, COO, lead guest services managers, facilities team, or the guest services manager on duty.

Work Environment: This job operates in a hotel like environment to provide a temporary home to families with critically ill children. While performing the duties of this job, the employee is frequently exposed to fumes or airborne particles, moving mechanical parts and vibration.

Physical Demands: The physical demands described here are representative of those that must be met by an employee to successfully perform the essential functions of this job.

While performing the duties of this job, the employee is regularly required to talk or hear. The employee is frequently required to stand; walk; use hands to finger, handle or feel; and reach with hands and arms. This position also requires the ability to use a step stool or ladder and to reach overhead for cleaning and dusting.

The employee is occasionally required to sit, climb, balance, stoop, kneel, crouch or crawl. The employee must frequently lift or move up to 25 pounds. This position requires the ability to operate (push/puss) mechanical cleaning equipment including vacuums, floor scrubbers, steam cleaners and similar devices. Specific vision abilities required by this job include close vision, distance vision, color vision, peripheral vision, depth perception and ability to adjust focus.

Hours: Our House is open 24 hours a day, seven days a week. We are looking to fill a full-time position, with availability to work evenings and weekends.

Other Duties: Please note this job description is not designed to cover or contain a comprehensive listing of activities, duties or responsibilities that are required of the employee for this job. Duties, responsibilities and activities may change at any time with or without notice.

Apply Now: https://bit.ly/jumprecruiter

[random-writes-blog]

Teacher in the Streets...

This one’s like, 70% me projecting my feelings, starting black Logan

Logan yawned as he pressed the off button on his alarm, clumsily grabbing his glasses from the nightstand. He ran his hands through his hair and sighed as the short curls and knots inevitably wrapped themselves around his fingers. He muttered to himself as he walked to the bathroom that he shouldn’t do that. It wasn’t helpful to actually getting knots out like a good comb, but the act always brought him a strange amount of comfort.

He moved from the bathroom back to his room to take out his clean, pressed blue and black stripped tie and polo. Frankly he was going to need all the comfort he could get today, the faculty was having a racial sensitivity awareness meeting.

He moved to the kitchen to make himself a black coffee, 2 eggs and two slices of toast. He understood why the meetings were useful, on an intellectual level. If white people aren’t reminded every 5 minutes that nonwhite people are people, they might forget. He just hated that he had to go and be the only black face in the room while white presenters teach other white people why saying, ‘You’re not like those people. Not in a bad way, you’re just different from a lot of black people I know in a good way.’ Isn’t the compliment they think it is and pat each other on the back while they pull the same shit a week later-

Ding

He pulled the toast out of the toaster and slathered it with Crofters. Maybe a bit more. A little more. And maybe just a spoonful for himself for luck and good graces for the rest of the day.

As he drove to the University he took a few deep breaths, luckily traffic wasn’t too miserable, he found it fairly easy to put on his professional face. He was Dr. S, winner of the Robert H. MacArthur award for his work in ecology. He was intelligent, confident- but never arrogant, and firm but never harsh or angry. He walked down the halls with an air of untouchability, but was willing to give lighthearted ‘good morning’ whenever he saw a student he knew pass or a fellow teacher that he knew or nodded at him.

Despite how much he occasionally bitched, he really did love his job, he loved having all eyes- well most students eyes- on him as he talked about the nature of the understory. He had samples of lichen that he had the students pass around the auditorium so they could get a really good look at the fungi. He talked about how useful they are in maintaining the ecosystem and converting carbon dioxide in the atmosphere. He loved listening to them, his students were brilliant, often coming into situations with viewpoints he’d never even considered. He loved reading their discussion boards after class.

Students always entered his class with different levels of attachment to the environment, some were climate change deniers who joined the class to be contrary, others were here because they thought it would be easy science credits- he wasn’t in complete denial of the nature of teaching a college course- but he also knew the few in the course that genuinely wanted to be there. They interacted with the material with a level of passion that reminded him of himself in his youth. And some part of him hoped that his own level of interest rubbed off on those who were neutral or even outright hostile towards the subject matter.

He moved towards his desk in the corner of the room and took out an envelope with a hand written letter from one of his students. It was about how the student had changed their major just because of his class. He’d sparked a passion in the student and made him believe that he could have an impact on the world around him. Discovering that he had made a real, tangible difference in a person’s life- it was one of the greatest moments in his career.

One more class, than his lunch break, and of course-

The ever dreaded meeting.

Their voices were an endless, tiring drone, he found himself doodling on a piece of paper out of shear boredom until they reached a point in the meeting where they said something hilarious:

“We’re going to do a roleplay exercise so you can see how it feels.”

Of course, despite the subject of the meeting, none of them could really get it and he sure as hell wasn’t going to go out of his way to relive events where white people called him, ‘aggressive’ for speaking in a clear and concise manner but as the aggressor just to help them understand.

Or at least, he wouldn’t do it in the here and now.

For now he would be polite, all, ‘Can you understand why it may be upsetting to imply this’? and ‘I know your intentions were not meant to be unkind, but the effect of your words ultimately makes your intent irrelevant.’

A few hours later and he found himself at a slightly dingy apartment a few towns over. He pressed on the buzzer for Remus’s room, “Hey, it’s me.”

“AY bro! You sound like shit.”

Logan gave a small snort, “Matches how I feel, got any good beats ready?”

Logan could practically hear the grin on his face. When Remus was giddy it always meant trouble, “Always, stop being a stranger and get in here!” Yep, there were definitely going to be shenanigans afoot. But that was to be expected when Remus was your producer, everyone who was into underground stuff knew his name. Though not always for positive reasons.

“I’ve been thinking about using the sound of broken glass as a beat drop on this one,” Remus practically dragged Logan into his room and sat him on the moth-eaten chair. “You know like Shatter, 4 beats of silence then the rapper comes back in and the beat goes harder than ever you know? But that’s for the big project, I’ve also been messing around with the sound that different like, levels of hardness- it’s goo so it’s not like hard, hard, not like this di-”

“The viscosity.” Logan nodded.

Remus snapped his fingers, “Yeah, that bitch! Just like, using the temperatures to create the notes!” He clapped his hands, “So, what do you want for the night? What’s the mood?”

Logan sighed and tilted his head up as he looked at the ceiling. “The somber, harshness of hating the inevitabilities of life.” He blinked, “That’s oddly specific-”

Remus shook his head, “No, hey man. Don’t worry, I gottcha. You wanna record or nah?”

“Nah, not this one, this one’s just a warm up you know? Maybe a later one though I dunno lot of factors on hand.”

Remus nodded, “Gottcha gottcha gottcha,” he moved towards his laptop and looked through his tracks, squinting before his eyes lit up and he said, “Try this one on for size.”

The song started off with a dial tone noise with a fast-paced piano trilling between middle C and C#, the tones were discordant and harsh, but Logan found that they matched his own discordant feelings, towards his job, towards his life, towards himself. He let out those feelings through his words matching the pace of the music as it shifted and changed. Sentence after sentence flowed past his lips, the words adding clarity to his emotional state, giving him a sense of self that encouraged him to change his dynamics to match it, going from meek and discordant to harsh, clear certainty in seconds between lines.

He would admit it wasn’t his best work, clearly, some of his word-play could have been better thought out (’I’ve met bitches with more intellect/at least Spot knows how to speak/Don’t mean much when you use acrolect/to say ‘let me take a peek’ was unnecessarily vulgar and likely didn’t sound as good aloud as he thought it did.) but he felt alive when he said it. The music ran through his veins and into his soul as he spoke.

No matter whether a day was awful or great he would have this place. His sanctuary.

[carasueachterberg]

got a new foster dog.

And he’s not a puppy.

And he’s not a mama (obviously).

He’s Gomer Pyle…

Gomer has actually been in OPH care for five months. He arrived from North Carolina heartworm positive back in January. Heartworm treatment and recovery require that a dog be kept quiet and I can only imagine how hard that must have been for his previous foster. Gomer’s overriding personality traits is ENTHUSIASM.

In fact, it was this enthusiasm that led him to me. His previous foster mama recognized that he needed an outlet for that enthusiasm and even after working with a trainer, felt he’d do better in a different foster home that could provide him with more daily exercise.

Enter me.

[As previously noted, Frankie is not an enthusiastic running partner. In fact, when I tried to get him out with me yesterday he made it as far as the next door neighbor’s driveway before he sat down in protest and refused to go another step.]

We’ve had Gomer for 24 hours now. I can verify that he is indeed ENTHUSIASTIC. He is also overwhelmed and terrified and desperately trying to figure his place in this new home. Part of that is moving after being in his previous foster home for nearly five months, and part of that is just Gomer. He’s an intense, smart, ENTHUSIASTIC (did I mention that?) guy. He needs a job and a schedule and definitely a few parameters.

If I’d fostered Gomer a year ago, I wouldn’t have a clue what to do. (Evidence of this can be found in my fumbling early efforts with Gala.)

But one of my best qualities is that I learn from my mistakes. So Gomer has the benefit of my experiences with dogs like Ginger, Hadley, and Gala. In fact, I’d say he’s a perfect blend of the three.

????????????????????????????????????

????????????????????????????????????

The first thing he has needed is a ‘shutdown.’ I know there are many, many, many complicated opinions about this practice.

[For those of you scratching your heads and wondering, a shut down is a period of time where you keep a dog’s world extremely small so he can adjust. He is crated or kept in a small safe space most of his day. His interaction is limited to one or only a few people and no other dogs. He’s loved, walked, given toys and treats, but he isn’t forced to adapt to anything except his small space.]

I was one of those people who bristled at the idea of ‘locking up’ this dog who had just escaped lock up, but I’ve since learned that some dogs benefit hugely from a shutdown. It minimizes the chances of something dangerous happening for the dog (or the foster). This makes sense because dogs respond to a new environment on many more levels than we do.

For instance, over the weekend I was in Oklahoma for a wedding. Oklahoma is a completely new environment for me. Something in the air triggered my allergies which was a bonus, but beyond that – it looked different.

There were endless flat prairies, occasional rocky bluffs, and one big mountain (Mount Scott), plus prairie dogs, buffalo, and abundant birds of every shape and size.

Oklahoma felt different too –the temperature upon our arrival was 100 degrees, but it was dry heat blasted at you like an exhaust fan by the nonstop winds.

It sounded different. Our hotel was directly across the street the courtyard of a café where Big Bob played his guitar and sang for tips ALL day from 10 am- 10pm. He had about an hour’s worth of material that he cycled through again and again with occasional Happy Birthday’s added when the guest list necessitated. Whenever he forgot a lyric, he just mumbled or added a guitar solo, which created an actually workable Louis Armstrong/Neil Young sound. And regrettably, it tasted different. EVERYTHING was fried or dripping with butter or bacon grease, except the Cheetohs-covered scones, and the occasional iceberg lettuce.

Suffice it to say, I wasn’t feeling myself. Still, we were happy to be there and celebrate with family, hike in the wildlife refuge, and even swim with the geese in the creek.

But we are not dogs. And we knew why we were there and that Big Bob and the hissing geese were only a temporary distraction.

Gomer Pyle is also presently in a foreign land. His little busy brain is trying to take in all the new sights (cats! Horses! Frankie!), new sounds (Gracie barking, Brady pacing the kitchen, the washing machine shaking the floor, the fox in our pasture last night calling for her kits), and new smells (horses, foster-dogs past, five people and their assorted friends). Everything is different.

And Gomer is the kind of dog that doesn’t miss a thing.

When I took him out for his first walk yesterday he darted in every direction, challenging the end of the leash and when he couldn’t make it budge, he turned and attacked the leash itself.

On our next walk, I put on a head-collar. He fought with it briefly but then decided following me up the street was more fun and settled in for a fast-paced walk. Cars passing caused him to panic and when he couldn’t get away, he once again attacked the leash.

I employed the training I’ve learned with Frankie in our classes and ignored the bad behavior (just keep walking, just keep walking) and treated the good behavior. Gomer very much likes treats.

This morning on our walk, when he grew frightened instead of racing to the end of the lead and attacking the leash every time, a few times he turned to me and each time he got a treat. He’s a smart cookie so I’m guessing the next walk will only get better.

Going slowly is what this fast-paced guy needs. It’s not something that comes naturally for me, but thanks to the dogs who have come before and taught me a thing or two, I recognize that this isn’t about what’s easy for me, this is about what Gomer Pyle needs.

And right now he needs his world to be small so he can adjust and adapt to a whole new world. A shut-down will help him to take in this new world slowly and safely, without being overwhelmed.

I have to say, as much as I did enjoy Oklahoma, I might have liked it even better if I could have had a shut-down for a bit—just until my ears got used to Big Bob’s tunes, my tummy got used to deep-fried everything, my nose adapted to the all-new pollen, and my internal thermostat adjusted to accommodate temps twenty degrees higher than at home.

Congrats Brandon and Evie! We were honored to be there to see the magic!

Thanks for reading!

If you’d like to know more about my blogs and books, visit CaraWrites.com or subscribe to my monthly e-newsletter.

If you’d like to know how you can volunteer, foster, adopt or donate with OPH, click here. And if you’d like more regular updates of foster dogs past and present and extra puppy pictures, be sure to join the Another Good Dog facebook group.

I love hearing from readers, so please feel free to comment here on the blog, email carasueachterberg@gmail.com or connect with me on Facebook, twitter, or Instagram.

 Best,

 Cara

COMING AUGUST 2018 from Pegasus Books and available for preorder now:

#shutdown is not a dirty word. Sometimes it's exactly what a dog needs. #dogrescue #anothergooddog #fosterdog got a new foster dog. And he’s not a puppy. And he’s not a mama (obviously).

[mnm-inc-miles]

SEPTEMBER 1st - 2nd (730pm-4am)

“I want to thank you again for coming by,” Lucky spoke earnestly. He fidgeted nervously at the door as he let Newt into his home.

Newt smiled warmly while avoiding eye contact, “It’s truly no trouble.” He shuffled inside and looked around the house for a moment, taking in the environment. He assessed anything that could be dangerous and to his surprise found a handful of swords and staffs on the walls.

“You worried?” Lucky asked, watching him closely.

“No,” he stated quickly. He set his case down in the living room and checked the time. “It’s 7:30, how are you feeling?”

“Myself I guess...” he paced nervously as Newt watched him.

“Can you try to explain it a little better?”

“Well like I said before, there’s a pressure...like someone is squeezing my bones...” he finally collapsed into a chair and threw his arms up. Newt studied him while he stood in the same spot. “And my head hurts, my heart is racing...it feels like...sort of like my adrenaline is pumping...” his head fell into his hands.

“Like your body is getting ready for a fight?”

“Yeah maybe...” Lucky looked up at Newt, trying to read him as well, but it was near impossibly. “Could you maybe sit, you’re making me nervous...”

“Of course,” Newt smiled slightly. “Certainly not my intention to make you nervous.”

“And like...make yourself comfortable, you can take your coat off, and shoes if you want, like...you’ll be here a while right?”

Newt nodded and gently removed his coat and scarf. “Would you like my shoes at the door?”

“It doesn’t matter I just...” Lucky grabbed his head and winced. “I want you to be comfortable...is all.”

“Have you taken anything?”

“Yeah, a couple Advil.”

“Can you try to explain anything else you’re feeling, or thinking?”

“I’m not a science experience,” Lucky growled defensively.

“I certainly know that, I’m only trying to help.”

“Sorry...” he paused and grabbed his head again. Unsure as to why he was acting so aggressively. He hadn’t felt this way since before he worked with Phoenix. Then when he looked back up he was panting and his eyes were a yellow wolf like hue. He raised a lip slightly and snarled.

Newt stared for just a moment, utterly fascinated, then spoke very gently. “Lucky, I’m not going to hurt you, I do want to ask...is there anything I can get you?”

Lucky was still panting slightly, his body tense and his muscles twitching. He narrowed his eyes and just watched the other for a moment, as if daring him to move. Newt stood his ground, he didn’t try to play a submissive role but certainly didn’t edge the others position of dominance either.

“I’m hungry.” He stood too fast and his head rushed, his body stumbling. Newt reached out to catch him and Lucky growled and pushed himself away, yelling through gritted teeth. “Don’t touch me.”

Lucky was very strong and had caused Newt to stumble back and fall to the ground. “I only meant to catch you, it seems your body needs to get used to this state...”

“I need something to eat,” he snarled and walked to the kitchen. His steps were unstable, almost as if he were drunk. As he left, Newt tucked into his suitcase and came back out with a cut of steak, raw. When he went to the kitchen he could hear Lucky growling. He was angrily tossing food onto the floor as he scoured the fridge. He howled in frustration, then screamed, “There’s nothing in here!”

Newt held up the steak, “Will this do?” Lucky looked over, his wild eyes immediately focused on the steak and his pupils dilated. Lucky sat down at the table and tried to contain himself. Newt walked over and handed him the steak, then sat down diagonally from him.

Lucky tore into the steak, all the while keeping a cautious eye on Newt. “This is good, yes.”

“I’m glad.” They sat quietly as Lucky finished the meal and looked up, almost as if to ask for more. He wiped a dribble of blood from his chin and pushed away from the table. “There’s more of you’d like.”

“No,“ Lucky shook his head and left the kitchen. Newt followed, but only to the doorway linking the two rooms. The next few hours were fairly uneventful, pacing and growling. Then Lucky sauntered to his room, dug into his bed and covered himself with blankets before falling asleep.

Newt checked the time, it was midnight. He texted Dylan and Louise then checked on his own creatures. Being sure to only monitor them for an hour before going back to Lucky. He wanted to make sure nothing happened when the full moon peaked.

Shortly after 1am Newt came back out of his suitcase to check on Lucky. He found him still asleep but very vividly dreaming. He was making canine like grunts and growls, and his arms and legs ran as if he were chasing something. Keeping his distance, Newt merely watched to make sure Lucky was safe.

Eddie had finally fallen asleep too. He had been trying to talk to Newt about Albus for a couple days and the wizard kept saying he had a lot on his plate that required his full attention, and tonight’s debacle only furthered that agenda. Newt didn’t know how to address things with Albus. He loved him more than most people he’d ever known in his life, and respected him even more so, but he couldn’t quite wrap his mind around a romance. It had been there years ago, when he was young and he not only admired but adored Albus. But life kept moving and things changed, now he wasn’t sure if Albus was important more as a brother or something more.

Lucky suddenly shot up in the bed and howled. It startled Newt as it broke an otherwise peaceful atmosphere. Suddenly the young man was at the end of his bed snarling at Newt who sat upon his suitcase in the door frame.

“Why are you in my house,” he growled.

“Good morning Lucky...sorry if I startled you, we made plan for me to be here, do you remember that?” Newt slowly stood.

“No.” He jumped off the bed and rounded on Newt. He lifted him by his shirt collar, his toes no longer touching the ground, sniffing him. Newt tightened his grip around his wand, wondering if he’d need to use it. “You should leave.” Lucky released him and headed down the stairs to the kitchen.

Newt grabbed his suitcase and followed at a distance, then lingered at the far end of the kitchen. “You hungry?” Lucky looked up at him and gave a nod. Then he looked around at the mess on the floor of old food gone room temperature. None of it appetizing. “I have steak if you’d like.”

Lucky narrowed his eyes and Newt could see his wheels spinning, he glanced at the table, the fridge, at Newt, then back at the table. He went and sat down, his breathing slightly labored. “Yes I would like that.”

“I’ll get it.” Newt disappeared into his suitcase and came back to see Lucky sitting on the floor by the suitcase, waiting. “Hello...do you want it here or at the table?” Lucky grabbed the steak from Newt’s hand and tore into the raw meat. Newt closed the suitcase and sat beside it, on the floor with Lucky. “How are you feeling? Can I ask you some questions?”

“Sure,” Lucky responded, licking his lips and gnawing at the meat.

“Does the name Lucky mean anything to you?” The young man didn’t respond. “Lucky, can you hear me?” The other looked up at him, they locked eyes and there was a flicker of familiarity. But he said nothing. As Lucky finished the steak and licked his fingers clean, Newt tried again. “Can you tell me a little about how you’re feeling? What this place means to you, perhaps?”

“I feel...” he was quiet a moment, searching for the words. “Something doesn’t feel right...”

“Do you know who you are or what’s happening to you?”

“Can you help me?” His voice was timid, afraid.

“Yes, I believe so, what do you need?”

“I feel a strong desire to...to tear you apart limb from limb and rip the flesh off of your bones...”

“Hmm, that seems problematic on my end, why don’t you do it if it’s what you want?” He was trying to catch the others eyes now, something that generally only happened when interacting with his creatures.

“Good question...” he paused and looked at Newt’s suitcase. “Got any more steak?”

“I have one more thawed, would you like it?”

“It makes me feel better, I don’t know why but I don’t really...want to hurt you. I just...feel like it. Does that make sense?”

“Perhaps, let me get that steak.” Newt smiled and moved cautiously. Lucky nodded and sat patiently. When Newt returned he handed over the steak and continued to watch him curiously. “Do you have any family?”

“I must.” Lucky spoke. “I can’t possibly be the first of my kind.” Newt gave a slight shrug, knowing that perhaps he was indeed the first of his kind, at least in the sense that this phenomenon has never happened before.

“Do you mind if I show you pictures and you tell me if any of them seem familiar to you?”

“That’s fine,” Lucky stated.

“May I move closer?”

“Okay...” he eyed him nervously then added, “Just...don’t touch me.” He added a growl at the end for good measure, to reiterate he was serious.

“I won’t,” Newt spoke warmly. He pulled out his phone and found a picture of Louise, Dylan, Trey, and a few random photos. Lucky did as he had predicted and pointed to each of the photos that were important people to Lucky.

“I’m not sure why,” Lucky narrowed his eyes and grabbed the phone from Newt when he was finished the steak. He gazed at a picture of Dylan. “She’s family...isn’t she? She’s...mine?”

“She’s your daughter, Dylan...” Newt stated, and suddenly Lucky began to whimper. “She’s okay...” and tears came to Lucky’s eyes. “What’s wrong?”

“You tell me...how...how don’t I know my own daughter.”

“You do, you pointed her out to me, remember? I think your mind is coping with this new state...it’s complicated but I promise you it will get better. Would you like to lie down?”

“Can I have this?” Lucky held the phone and kept glancing at the photo.

“Yes you can keep it for now.” Newt and Lucky walked over to the living room and Lucky curled up on the couch. Newt sat across from him on a lazy boy and watched as the young man slowly fell asleep

[flatstarcarcosa]

just realized that while most of my ships deal with codependency that is actually not present with reesebane. 

i decided my timeline for me and eddie is vastly different from usual, and operates on the idea that when i was 18 i went through with jumping ship. i took my broken truck and my sick ass and left sc and hopped right across to nc where i had a friend at the time, like i’d planned irl. 

so im thinking from there i spent about three years in abject misery. was probably homeless and sleeping out of the truck for a while, getting sicker and sicker and sicker and frequently dropping off the map due to no cell/internet service. 

i was constantly on the move, anywhere i could get shelter for a night, or hopefully more. 

im almost 22 when i end up in steelport chasing some jobs. they have little in the way of shelters so im thinking the first couple months i actually worked for eddie at the 3 count i was still sleeping in the truck. 

and he doesn’t find out until way later, since i end up working there for about 18 months before the night we officially “meet” (remember he interviewed me but we had little interaction outside of that) how much he indirectly helped me get on my feet. 

i like the idea that the 3 count is actually a really good gig. he pays basic staff a starting wage of 13/hr, and bartenders are 15 + whatever we get in tips. one of the things that contributes to him hiring me despite not having specifically bar experience is that im only interested in night shifts, and i’ll happily work every weekend and holiday if i have too. 

it’s not easy work, the 3 count is ALWAYS busy, and it’s chaos. it’s worse on holidays, or when there’s big wrestling events, which he has once a month on average. 

but i’m good at it. i work extremely well in fast paced chaotic environments, and even though he don’t have personal interactions, he definitely takes notice of that. i end up being one of the best employees he’s ever had, and he notices the general morale improves the longer i’m around because i’m very nice to my coworkers unless they give me a reason not to be. 

he has a strict dress code for uniforms, but he pays for the first two sets for you. the 3 count also has an employee locker room with showers, and thats one of those little things that he does because he has a case of “been there, didn’t like it”. 

he’s worked venues with no locker room and no shower, and no a/c, and burning fucking lights and he knows how miserable it is to end done working and be hot and sweaty and not even be able to rinse off. 

so he has showers for us, and he keeps the casino at 69-71 degrees, and he doesn’t care that i’m never out of my sunglasses. 

and while living out of my truck, being able to shower before and after work AT work is a huge fucking help. and the money i make is enough that i’m able to land an apartment within a couple of months, and the fact that i work at the 3 count makes me a desirable renter because people know the reputation of the casino. 

and he finds this out one night when he’s at my place, and we’ve been dating for about a year, and i startle the fuck out of him because there’s a massive spider in my kitchen. after he kills it he comments he doesn’t know why the fuck i don’t just cut my lease on “this shit hole” and move in with him. 

and i’m like well, i know it’s a far cry from your penthouse but. 

it’s the first stable roof i’ve ever had. i know every month my rent is paid and my water will stay on and my electric will stay on and my cellphone will be paid and my internet will be paid. 

i have enough left over for food and gas and car insurance, and since employees have our own tabs on the house for booze (to a limit anyway), i have bonus money since i rarely have to buy my own booze any more. 

and at first he misses what i mean, because all he sees are the cracks in the walls and the shitty tile in the kitchen and the toilet that won’t stop running, and it reminds him of where he’s come from, 

but for me i just see where i’ve gotten to. 

so i’m hesitant to leave it. for so long everything was so unknown, and i’ve had stability for almost two years at that point. 

and i am not in any way dependant on anyone but myself to keep that stability going. 

which brings me back around to how there’s no codependency in this relationship. it’s actually detrimental to a point because it’s like...the fuck is the opposite of dependency? turbo independence? 

i’ve built so many walls and barriers that i refuse to let myself trust or enjoy anything or anyone because i’m waiting for it to get snatched from me. whereas by this point, he’s fully trusting of me. we’re at the point where if it’s just us, he’s frequently without his mask, and that’s a huge thing. 

so from his perspective, he’s laid it all out on the table, and he doesn’t understand why that’s not enough for me, but a shitty one bedroom apartment above a liquor store is. 

and it’s not that it’s not enough, 

it’s that it’s too much. and i don’t know what to do with that, so i pretend not to see it. 

[the-voice-of-hell]

STARS VOLUPTUOUS

This is an entry in a choose your own adventure.  Probably not worth reading ‘til it’s finished.

As the days went on, you discovered that you were indeed doing maintenance around the station.  Madam Thebe and the rest didn’t appear in person again, and she radioed her directives from afar.  Just another disembodied voice.  When you had farther to go, Ferdinand let you ride on the back of his motorcycle to get places.  It was fun buzzing down the halls - felt like the last thing that should have been allowed, like you’d be mowing down tourists any moment.  But they never showed up.  Just more maintenance bots and fairies.

The reality of it sank in.  This place wasn’t just a weird dream, as much as it felt like a capsule out of time.  You were there, doing the bidding of some aloof mobster in the fancier reaches of the station.  But you weren’t alone.  You had this goofy-acting robot man, and his too-good-to-be-true physique.

Was it day or night to your body anymore?  Did it matter?  An order came down.  Something was causing damage in The Blue Room.  Find out what the problem was and fix it.  Turned out The Blue Room was three miles away, so you took the bike.

You gripped Ferdinand’s sides, your hair whipping in the wind.  His muscles were firm but yielding.  Powerful, but so human-like.  Could you just go with it?  Forget the artifice?  The morally dubious circumstance?

The halls you travelled in the outer reaches of the station were sometimes machine space, service tunnels with no mind to decor.  Some were in halfway decent shape, some had given way to intense levels of dust rust and tarnish.  Other times the halls were in that crude condition where they once could have been proper hotel halls and arcades and baths, but were half stripped of raw materials to maintain the inner halls of the station.  Eroded ruins.  The least functional maintenance bots worked those halls, winding down their lives cleaning the most dangerous decay and piling recyclable materials to be carted out by their more spry brethren.

Riding a motorcycle indoors was intense.  Without the distance between yourself and the world around you, the sense of speed was exaggerated.  Pin lights became long streaks, the details of the ruined space were a blur.

You came to another disused area of the customer space - an arcade full of disused shops and restaurants.  Ferdinand eased the bike down to a rumbling very low speed and you perused the area.  Some areas of the environment were covered in intense decay, way worse than the rest - as if it was possible for some giant to have vomited great piles of rust onto the surfaces.  The worst hit areas had streaks leading away from them, like the vomiter had slipped away, leaving grimy corrosion in its wake.

You said, “That ain’t normal.”  Honestly you were mystified.  You were imagining that maybe some kind of random chemical and electrical elements were interacting badly - frayed cables lighting up areas that had over time broken down into more volatile materials.  But was that the cause?  It didn’t seem sufficient to explain what you were seeing.

Ferdinand pulled to a stop in a big atrium - the center of the arcade.  The lights that remained on were blue and weak, casting the entire scene in a cool electric monotone.  Many flickered at random, causing strobes.  The big robot worked the kickstand with a boot and you both got off.

He pointed to more of the blobby areas and streaks.  “It’s targeting organic material.  Chair covers, false wood, carpet, some of the kitchen supplies.”

“Targeting?  You think something with agency did this?”

“Maybe one of the old robots is havin’ a really bad time,” he said.

Would that be all of them eventually?  Targeting organic material with corrosive sprays near mindlessly in darkened halls?  You doubted the Madam would grant her people the dignity of a peaceful end.  She seemed like someone really bad with pets.  “But how is it causing the damage?”

“I dunno.  Let’s be careful.”  He pulled out a big wrench to use as an improvised weapon.

You got a battery for your laser revolver ready.  The things didn’t last long so you had to wait until the last minute to slap it in the frame.  The thing was like a heavy solid silver egg in one hand, the gun almost the same weight but better balanced in the other.  “I’m always careful.”

You peered into each shadowy recess in turn, walking as softly as possible, listening for any careless movements from the mysterious destructive force.  What reason would it have to be stealthy?  Why couldn’t you hear anything?

At last you both heard a clanging noise - and more eldritch noises as well.  You whipped around to look that way, barely able to restrain yourself from loading the pistol.  You glanced at each other, then toward a darkened teahouse across the atrium.

“That sound like a maintenance bot to you?,” you asked.

“Nope,” he said.

The two of you moved with more purpose now, still trying to be quiet but picking up the pace.  At the edge of the big open windows of the place, you stopped and peered inside.  Ferdinand used his flashlight, scanning it slowly through the dark room.

Something big surged from behind a counter, looking at a glance like a living puddle of garbage water, then it flattened out of sight.

“That ain’t a robot,” you said.

His perfect face reconfigured itself for determination and action.  Did that reflect his feelings, or was he just incapable of making unflattering expressions?  Or was he incapable of embarrassing emotions?

You said fuck it and loaded the laser revolver.  The ammo would fizzle fast, so you had to rush in.

You rushed just to force the thing to show itself, but held off on loading the gun.

You decided to holster the gun and focus on mobility, draw the thing out.