#i'm still bitter i lost progress

[cxnsolatio]

✚✚✚ @circus-and-shenanigans // continued

Law followed the little clown throughout the sinuous insides of the big top, through the narrow alleys between seats, one heeled foot fitting at a time. He held Kikoku higher against his shoulder, almost as if a parent would carry a toddler in a crowded space for fear of losing them. It was the dirt floor he minded, to spare his sword the dishonour of meeting with some gluttonous child's half-licked, sticky-as-glue lolly. Law grimaced at the vision of paper wraps and unpopped kernels of corn sprawled under his feet. How had he allowed himself to get caught up in this mess, again?

Oh, yes. The funny (as in 'peculiar' rather than 'amusing') clown girl had lassoed him in with the promise not of entertainment, but of medicine.

She had said she was a doctor, a claim that earned her a studious gaze bundled up in doubt. This orange thing was a doctor? For all his brilliance, Law did lack the necessary amount of self-awareness to recognise that most civilians, too, would doubt him a doctor when he sported a loose shirt buttoned up with haste over his jeans and black polish over his fingernails so casually. Both he and the clown were as far removed from the semblance of a textbook doctor, with their one white coat and two rows of white teeth arranged into a reassuring smile as could be. All things considered, it was discerning of a circus to harbour a medical team, only not right next to the menagerie, he hoped, for a nomadic, strenuous lifestyle offered plenty of opportunities for injury. And the jolly roger lulling in the wind above the tarpaulin had not escaped Law's atttentive watch. Pirates required medical assistance more than the average person.

❝ Listen, Raggedy Ann...! ❞ he started, an edge of warning to his voice, her jab at his aquatic lifestyle returned in kind as he manoeuvred the space towards the reserved compound of doors and platforms the audience had no idea lay within and underneath the circus. ❝ I'll have you know submarines are lots of fun. ❞

What the hell did she know of his literary soirées? Of the crew's monthly talent shows? Of the most exciting, free-for-all race to the loo after every Tuesday's taco dinner? Why, she was but a simpleton, all too excited to watch some other idiot in oversized shoes juggle up some balls and deem it as entertainment. If there was a literal embodiment of the panem et circenses phrase, here it was.

❝ I am not a man to be toyed with. I did not come here, to the very depths of Satan's rectum, to discuss the concept of merriment over tea with a child. Where is the chlorophyte? ❞

She had said, and not just in passing, to be in possession of a rare species of algae Law had read about in his studies. Although, admittedly, phycology was a field of pharmaceutical interest he generally buried under other priorities. The species was said to be at least a hundred times more efficient than other maritime eukaryotes in boosting immunity and serving as an anticancerous agent, nothing short of a miracle if proven true. If he could get this alga into his laboratory and multiply it so he got enough specimens to sample from... Only the hypothesis of an unprecedented scientific breakthrough could have made him enter the circus tent.

Trafalgar Law hissed, catlike when the faux flower hit him with a surprise drizzle. Though hygienic, he would rather take his shower the conventional way. Just like he would like to keep his feet not stepped on by stupid miniature velocipedes! ❝ I really, really hate the circus! I'll take my clowns in the form of Ruggero Leoncavallo, thank you.❞

His eyes were daggers directed at this Doctor Patches character, but then the gold in them melted and glinted with mischief. Kikoku made another move on his shoulder, ready to lose her sheath. ❝ There is no fucking chance a clown can trick me. ❞

[gh-0-stcup]

Daniel and Armand spent four years meeting up and having long, intense conversations about philosophy, culture, and history before they officially got together.

They had a very active social life and seemed to spend several years doing a wide variety of interesting activities together.

Daniel mentions how he grew increasingly bitter over the years. Things between him and Armand fell apart due to Armand not being willing to turn Daniel.

Daniel is free to leave at any time. Armand won't try to chase Daniel down if Daniel doesn't want to be there.

Daniel's alcoholism spirals out of control when he isn't with Armand. Daniel has been on the verge of death because of his alcoholism multiple times prior to this chapter.

[threepandas]

Bad End: We Are

Senatus was a ecumenopolis. The "shining jewel" (yeah, right) of the Galactic Core. Please. Like? Maybe it was! If you were RICH AS FUCK. I don't know. I'VE never seen the towers. The heights. Most people haven't. Street level? Is about FIVE HUNDRED FLOORS DOWN. And the UNDERGROUND? Speak not of it.

The Underground GROWS.

What was street level today, may not be tomorrow. Levels buried under "progress" as the rich grow ever higher. The Tox levels ever worse. Air quality dropping. Why fix the peasant's poverty and despair, when you can buy a Sky garden you'll never use? And yes, I AM bitter as a Buirian fish ration. Just as salty too. Taste the SEA, motherfuckers.

Rent? Who can AFFORD rent!? Who can afford ANYTHING?!

It's some BULLSHIT.

But me? I remembered. A life. Before this one. Before the millennium of slow, drip drip drip erosion of duty and dues. Back when people still REMEMBERED what they were OWED. And when folks in power failed to pay up? Ffffuck um. Take it. Our house now, motherfuckers. Diplomacy was a courtesy not a weakness.

....I make people nervous, honestly.

Probably why I keep getting fired. That and my constantly reporting people to regulatory boards.maybe don't break the LAW if you don't want to get in trouble you SHITS. Fuck you! Yes, I stole your fancy office chair. PROVE IT. You don't know how the security system works!

Where was I? Ah, right. Rent.

Fuck Rent.

Thing is? What! Is a biodome? If not an enclosed system, regulated by machines, for optimal habitability? And! What? Is an Deep Underground Level? Long forgotten? Abandoned, if you will~, if not? A complete enclosed environment? Does someone OWN them? Yes. Technically. But are they MAINTAINING them? CHECKING on them? Nope!

Common knowledge, after all, says that EVERYTHING down their is "beyond salvaging"!

Free Real Estate~☆

I just need some supplies. Which? Cheaper in the long run then RENT. Especially if ya' salvage um. Maybe steal some tool sets from your shitty, shitty Mechanics job, because your boss refuses to pay you. Who can say? Not me! I just FOUND these tools! Like maaaagic~

And really, one man's junk? Another man's treasure. I pay more then the trash company. Hit up the right cleaning companies? And? Oops. They've "lost" some of those SUPER broken righ folks "junk" that? At best? Just needed a few wires replaced, resecured. Maybe a new part. Or were, you know, not the latest and greatest anymore.

Shove it all in a storage locker? Sell the refurb'd shit I don't need? Sleep in a glorified shoebox? And?? Bam. Operation "fuck ya'll, i'ma moleman" is a go. It takes FOREVER to find the right WILDLY out of date (and long abandoned) lift, but I find it! Hidden away in a service area in some crumbling, forgotten corner of what once was a rail station.

Gonna have to fix THAT up too. Later, though. First? The lift. The wires are brittle and the lift's pully system is half rusted, frozen, or otherwise broken. Luckily, the car itself is fine. It... takes a bit of research. Not going to lie. It's far from my specialty. I even call in a professional to go over my work.

They catch a few things. Not immediate concerns, but would have been fatal in the long run. Money well spent. For my hobby, of course. Fixing up old bits of the city. Which is a weird but not impossible hobby to have.

Ask me no questions, I'll tell you no lies, my dude.

First thing down? Lights, melter, and duraplast sheets. Toolkit too, for obvious reasons. Same with my full body hazard suit. I go DEEP. Like... no longer can hear the city, deep. 'Bout halfway point. Takes nearly thirty minutes. And while not a fast lift? Holy SHIT, man.

The floor I step out into is... bad.

Dead in a way that's hard to explain. There's pressure against my suit. Centuries of heavy gasses slowly working their way down. Swirling in the silence. The dust and impossible dark. My headlight feels almost... sacrilegious. Dangerous. Like I'm waving a flashlight around some ancient burial ground, filled with the not so restful dead.

I had heard... that they? Just... just LEFT droids down here. That there were levels upon levels of dangerously feral machines. Slowly rotting away in the darkness. Probably rightfully angry, that they had been built to serve, to do duties, which they HAD done... only to be consigned to hell on earth for the sake of CONVENIENCE.

I'd be mad too. Fucking LIVID. Would remember and hate, never let it go.

This was no place of honor, it was a tomb.

Still, I got too work. Set up a light by the lift and started measuring out the original air box. The air cleaners could only handle so much. And THIS? This was worse then expected. So it'd have to be smaller then originally planned. Fair enough. I could work with that.

I outlined the space in lights. All the better to make it easier to put things up. Then got the folded later and started securing the duraplast. First step, get it up. THEN melt it to the metal. Get a good seal. It took... a while. Was slow, steady, sweaty work.

The filters couldn't run until they had a an enclosed space TO run in. They'd just blow out, trying to filter the whole level's toxic atmosphere. I kept an eye on my air supply. Not great, not terrible. The readings though? Horrific. I had no idea what I was gonna DO with the filters when they needed changing. These kind of chemicals would set off all SORTS of alarms.

But? No use, rushing things. That was a great way to get a fatal leak somewhere. No. Slow and steady. Even though, third of the way through, I did have to head back up. I needed to refill my air. Eat. Drink. Maybe de-stink a little, from being in that suit all day. Possibly nap near the lift.

ALSO? Update my shopping list to include some heavy duty neutralizers.

Just filters wasn't gonna be enough. I was gonna have to hose down everything INSIDE my new air-box, then scrub it HARD. How fun. Well, it's not like anyone was making me do this. It was MY mad idea, after all.

So? I refuel, get bright eyed and fuckin' perky, and go back down to face the beast.

Honestly I should have brought a telebook or something. Well, audio book. But that's not what they call um these days, so I try to stick to the lingo. I sound less like a deeply insane antique. Confuse less people. Joys of basic communication and all that.

Part of me? Wishes I had been born closer to "The Plot". Creation's specialist, most favored, Blorbos. But? The common SENSE in me? Routinely laughs hysterically as it waves fifteen different restraining orders and a crucifix. Not even religious. Yet here we are, shouting "BEGONE! Sataaaaan!" in HD, on the inside of my head. Not sure it helps.

See... it's the fucking DRAMA~☆™

The shear, unmitigated, high octane, Otome Game DRAMA.

I would fuckin DIE or, possibly and, kill somebody. The endless string of selfish, selfish, poor life choices? Driving by luuuuuuv~♡? Give me your spleen. Gonna beat somebody unconscious with their own SPINE. I RAGE. Lack of communication? No one just picking up a fucking PHONE? God forbid ANYONE tell their families their not DEAD IN A DITCH SOMEWHERE!

No. No just inconvenience EVERYBODY and RUIN LIVES. It's okay! You're in LOVE!

That makes EVERYTHING BETTER.

I would inevitably launch them all out an airlock. Spend the rest of my life in jail. They AREN'T WORTH IT. I may have LOVED this game in my teens? But I did not die a teenager.

Now? Now the little shit just aggravate me. They are baby faced pretty boys who presume WAY too much. Arrogant and entitled. Boys playing at being men, thinking their little love stories are the only things that matter. Their feelings are the only thing in the universe that holds any weight.

Unsurprising, really.

Seeing as how their little love story is set mostly in The Towers.

A rich, pampered, pretty little backdrop where nothing of weight is real. No one starves and no crimes are ever committed. Everything shines. Power pools thick like honey. Nothing but sci-fi prince's and alien dukes, a dewey eyed Protagonist sheltered and naive.

Her oh so shocking misadventure to the mid-levels. How SCARY! Downtown! Poor people! Not even the destitute. Just? The EXSISTANCE of dirt and noise, beyond her ivory towers. Thank goodness she is saved by a handsome, rougish bad boy. Who shows her the "real world" of a carnival and a noodle shop.

I finish securing the last duraplast sheet to the ceiling, walls, supports, and along the floors. The "entryway" to the rest of the level is set up. A click together shed I've made air tight. Gonna have to get a air lock system for it. Won't hold forever, with those materials, but should work for now. Combine it with a decontamination system, and I should, in theory, be able to safely enter and leave the rest of the level in a hazard suit.

Moment of truth time. I click on the first of the atmo-filters. It heaves under the strain. The sound getting less aggrieved with each one I flick on. Their screen are already in the red, flashing warnings that I should vacate the area. That the air is dangerously unbreathable. I'm probably gonna need to replace the filters in them in days instead of years. It'll be worth it.

Heading back up, I let them run. It'll take a few days. Besides, I need those neutralizers.

I, of course, DO find um. Just in time to watch Poor Guy (middle class, at worst) Love Interest become a wanted man. They use the BIG screens to announce it. Gee, it's almost like having your only daughter, who is highly sheltered, NOT show up at the designated pick up site? Instead be witnessed in the handsy company of a scoundrel? Which is WILDLY unlike her? Might lead a protective father to some wrong conclusions.

If ONLY someone had CALLED him! To TELL him "Daddy, my first shuttle was broken and I think I got on the wrong back up shuttle! I don't know where I am!" Then this would just be an unfortunate meet cute with the boy he doesn't think is good enough for her. Not, you know... A Kidnapping.

The Chem seller looks just as baffled and annoyed as I do. Apparently knows the guy's uncle's second wife's first husband. No shit? How's he like? Happier, huh. Whole family is like that? Yikes. Glad he got the kids, I guess. Good for him.

We watch as it turns into a high speed chance that absolutely didn't need to happen.

Thank FUCK it's not us.

I spend the next few days deliberately and obstinately ignoring the Dramatic Bullshit that has taken over the news cycle. Fights on rail cars? Don't see it? Weddings that are, then aren't, then ARE happening? Oh look, missed a spot in my scrubbing. Someone fucking tearfully monologing about love as they nearly CRASH A SHIP into downtown, killing hundreds of thousands? Oh that creaking noise is just my teeth, ignore that, I grit my teeth a lot for NO PARTICULAR REASON.

This Is Fine.

I am TOTALLY CALM.

But hey! I can FINALLY empty my storage unit out! Air box? Get! Wooooo! Size of a tiny apartment and everything! As long as I keep working on it? I'll be able to reclaim the level in chunks.

It's like moving in day! But BETTER! Because... because I did this. Me. Is it still creepy down here? Yeah, very. But I can FIX that. I am standing, here, in my new air box "apartment", with NO hazard suit on. And... and it's SAFE. Because of the work I DID.

I kinda want to cry about it, you know?

So many options! Do I put my bed here? There?! Oooh, I could put the folding table HERE and make sort of a dining area? Maybe use these folding screens as a double "wall" slash headboard stand in? I should get plants. Fake ones? No. Real ones. I could get solar lights. It would be good for me too. Oh! Where should I put the cook top?

I admit it. I fuss. Whole day, gleefully wasted. Arranging then rearranging. Getting everything just right. Finding ways to hang my fairy lights. Looking up decor magazines. I have so much ROOM now. A whole level to plan for, ultimately. It... it feels kinda like hope. The first thing that isn't frustration and rage, I've felt in a long, long time.

Going to sleep? I'm happy.

Next day, I head to the BIG archives. The ones attached to the fancy Towers Library. Is it costly to get in? Yeah. But I've saved up enough questions and research topics for the trip to be worth it. I ignore the started glances I get (gasp! Is that a POOR?!) and head straight for the helper droids. Only decent folks in the building, really.

Brought my pad and everything. So it's only a matter of being lead to the right terminals, to download the information I need. Chatting with the research droid the Library had, they offered to do it for me. Bring me a fascinating new research paper on some sort of telepathic moss that had recently been discovered. Not gonna lie... that DID sound fascinating.

I asked if they could put other interest new discovery on my pad too, assuming I still had room once my list was downloaded. They looked gleeful. No idea what I just signed up for, but all right then. They've never steered me wrong before.

Finding a table to sit down and wait was easy. There was always way too many. The paper? Was exactly as fascinating as advertised. The moss was on a newly discovered moon, edge of uncharted space. Nearly ate a researcher, apparently. I was entranced. Or... at least I WAS. Until an obnoxiously familiar high end cologne from Nox drifted to my nose.

Oh god damn it.

I didn't want to look up. Knew what I'd see if I did. Fetishist Sr., crown prince of Nox. See, the second prince? HE was a love interest. Younger, boyish, infatuated with naive and sheltered girls. He loved AT her. Just like his brother. They liked the IDEA of their romantic partners. The narratives they built in their head. Heros of their own stories with sex on line. Never framed so crudely of course, no, no!

No, it was Romance™

My ass, it was. See, little brother wanted his pure, naive, princess to protect. But Prince senior? HE'D stumbled upon me in here in the library. On one of my trips, God help me. The rough, mysterious, brutish Poor. The Commoner, for all that such things were not supposed to exsist. With my strange clothes and stanger ways. Yet? I was NOT as his sycophants no doubt described.

I was educated. I held myself with dignity. I did not need jewels or finery to be lovely.

With such incredible audacity, I was bold.

Which? OBVIOUSLY had to be for HIM, right? Clearly, this was a LOVE STORY. Cinderella. It is inconceivable that I, a peasant, do not crave the attention of my betters. To lift me from my woeful indignity, to a higher state of being. A life of spoiled luxury. But, ah! He is so SHY! How ever will he approach the Love Of His Life~?

I want to throw something. Go awaaaay. My body language could not POSSIBLY be more uninterested. I am SO CLEARLY reading. Stop trying to catch my eye. Don't you FUCKING DARE scoot closer. Swear to God, if you drive me out of the best library in the region? I will stab a b-!

The helper returns with my pad, sternly eyeing my annoyance. Oh, they are a BLESSING. I take it and go. The helper smoothly stepping between me and the prince when he tries to rise, follow me. Aaaw, how sad, you have to behave like the REST OF US. Get FUCKED.

Rest of the day? Planning. Grabbing more broken bits, machines, and parts. Neutralizers by the literal barrel. Than YOU hover carts! Best invention, favorite invention. Saves SO MUCH TIME.

Even managed to get some sun lamps. Nice.

Getting home though? (Ha ha, wooo! I have a HOME now! Land ownershiiiiiiip! Sorta!!!) Is a pain. Lift is only so big, after all. But it is, what it is. Up, down, up, down, uuuuup, and dooooown. Finally! Last load! FREEDOM! Can't watch my shows, yet, but I will! Oh mark my words. I WILL. Meantime? Downloaded seasons are fine.

I eat, fiddle with fixing things, as listen to tunes. Watch some of my shows. Just as I have countless times before. Until... halfway through mid-afternoon? Something shifts, jerky and wrong, out of the corner of my eye. I pause. Turn off my music. Stare to make sure I DID actually see something. And... yeah. Yeah, that was definitely movement.

Didn't look animal though, not like one would survive down here. But who knows. Could be a poacher brought an alien species. So it might be. I grab my flashlight, aim and switch it on. Holy SHIT. That is one incredibly beat up floor clear. Or at least... I THINK it's a floor cleaner? It has the general shape of one. Bigger though. Bulkier. But that makes sense, given it's gotta be well past obsolete.

Still. Poor thing looks beat UP. Listing terribly, sensors beyond cracked and clouded, probably full to dangerous levels. No idea how it's still functioning. But, well, it IS. And it needs help.

Getting up, I grab my hazard suit and pull it on. Grab my "outside the air box" tool kit, which I haven't had a chance to move yet. I grab some parts i look like i'll need, hope I wont need more. Then head out my makeshift airlock. It... works. Rattles concerningly. But it DOES work! So there's that. I approach the floor cleaner slowly. Since I'm PRETTY sure? All the droids down here are feral.

I am correct.

It tries to kill me. Swinging it's suction hose violently and trying to ram me. I talk in a low, soothing voice. Just want to help. Won't do ANYTHING you don't want me too. It's hard to move, right? That's frustrating, isn't it? You don't deserve that. Please, let me help. You can leave the second I'm done. You don't owe me ANYTHING. I just want to help. Please let me help.

The cleaner hisses. Frustrated and upset. Swinging one last time, seemingly more out out of principle then anything else. Cautiously, I inch forward. Keep up the soothing noises. First things first, empty the God's only know how old basket.

I can't even get the door to jostle. Sweet mother of fuck. Okay! New plan! REMOVE door. I do, and immediately met with a solid BLOCK of... compacted unholy. Chemical hell. I have to take a lazer cutter to it. CAREFULLY. But? Once I break enough pieces? I am able to ease out the rest in a solid stone like chunk.

It's pushed a LOT of other pieces out of alignment. But this droid doesn't trust me, so there us not much I can DO. I replace the old bag. Put the door back on and make sure it swings. Continue, as I do, to narrate what I am doing and what I see. Trust is earned, not owed, after all. Next the alignments.

Gently propping them up, I find the broken peice immediately. Have replaced countless. I ask for permission. It's their body, after all I COULD try and weld it, but that risks a rebreak. It's up to them. They ask, in binary so no language modules apparently, for a new part. It's cautious. Like this is some cruel trap.

Humanity did them a real fucked up cruelty. I don't blame them for not trusting me. I wouldn't either. Still, I change it out. Careful with their wheels, as I don't know how old the material is exactly. Old enough, that it's a small miracle it hasn't disintegrated.

Last, those sensors. There's literally no way for me to one-to-one them. But we can try the sensors I DO have, see if they can handle the input. If it's too much, I'll look up their model number, if they want? Build replacements from scratch. They are cautious interested. Rocking back and forth, as they test their renewed ability to path correctly.

The sensors don't fit the casings just right, but with a bit of fiddling? Are a hit. The Cleaner shouting in excitement before racing off into the dark. I can't help but grin. It feels good, helping somebody. And if I think about it? I bet I could find a shit ton of obsolete parts for cheap. Might be good to have some on hand.

Back through the air lock and a decontam? I look up junk shop. Most are off world, but I could probably get a bulk order...

I don't think much of the interaction. Until the next morning, when there are three cleaners outside my airbox. Lead by the one I helped yesterday. Well... all righty, then. I drag my box of spare parts outside this time. Am able to fully fix my first buddy up. All three seem thrilled, especially with their new batteries. I give them my remaining batteries at their request.

THEY may not have hands, but they have buddies who DO. And the new batteries will help dormant droids wake from their comas. God bless, my funky little cleaner dudes. I'll see about getting more.

Three? Becomes six and a detail cleaner mouse. Becomes moving lifts. Becomes medical units. (Who the FUCK leaves MEDICAL UNITS?!) Becomes a literal pack of companion droids. Their false fur long since rotted away. The recognizable dog and cat-like shapes making something in me want to put my fist through a wall. How COULD they? How FUCKING COULD THEY?!

The perpetrators long dead.

I have no one I can hurt for this.

I wish I could.

Fixing them up hurts on a personal level. Watching them be torn between the part of them that LOVES humans and the part that is traumatized by them. Hates them. That can not forgive. I don't offer fake fur. Don't offer to make them look like they once did. I do offer ways to protect their joints. To remove old rotted filth.

So they can start over. Maybe start again.

As I work... droids drifting in and out of my slowly growing area. As I set up farm boxes. Aquaponics, aeroponics, and the like. Both things that grow well in dark environments and things that need sunlamps. Fish tanks. A whole happy, secret, little homestead. Deep beneath the city. As I do all this? There are two blue dots, right off on the horizon.

JUST far enough for me to question if I AM or AM NOT actually seeing them.

Right about the level a bipedal droid would be, if they were in a humanoid style. But THOSE? Those are FUCKING EXPENSIVE. You don't LEAVE those. 'Course, you don't leave MEDICAL UNITS either. Or companion droids. So clearly? My idea of what people Did and Did NOT do? Was fucked. So... maybe? It COULD be?

I left them alone. If they didn't want to approach me, didn't feel comfortable approaching me, that was their right. I wasn't going to push them.

Things were... weird, but peaceful.

Well, for ME.

Ever sense I hooked up my system to the greater network? (Hacked is such a STRONG word. Do we really need to through around the word "stealing"? Aren't ALL of us, stealing from SOMEBODY?) I'm PRETTY sure? That the levels droids? Were piggy backing to connect to the planet wide D-Network. Might even be a couple of nearby levels too, depending on the range.

Problem with THAT? Is sky-side? The droids were PISSED. Planet wide "malfunctioning" that no one could trace. They were certain it was a virus. Because God forbid their chickens come home to roost! Consequences? For THEIR actions?! Perish the thought! No, no, clearly the service machine is just broken. Go back to being happy to serve me, service machine!

I wished the fuckers LUCK. Not my circus, not my monkeys.

Damn near self sufficient, down here.

Which? As you could imagine? Made it all the more "soul ejected from my body" TERRIFYING to wake up one morning? To a GOD DAMN, Military Grade, SECURITY DROID standing over my body!! WHAT THE FUCK.

Hello!!??!

"You look different when you sleep."

Horrible first impression. Nightmarish. Zero out of ten stars. Nice to meet you too. Why the FUCK are you in my house?

"Ah, right." They? He? Masculine style form but that doesn't actually mean shit. Said. He lifted a mangled limb, it look like it got caught in a hydraulic press. "I am in need of repairs."

Asked if he could, you know, back up. Juuuust a bit. Lil scooch, really. So he wasn't damn near BREATHING MY NOSTRILS ANYMORE. Then, once he did? Pronouns! What be you? No. Not your production co-! Okay, you know what? That one was on me. What GENDER SIGNIFIER, if any, would you like me to REFERENCE you by? Male? Got it. Gucci. No that- ....never mind.

First the arm. Which was FUCKED. I had to, carefully, unhook it. Couldn't even do it at the elbow either! No! THIS model? No THIS model makes you take the whole ass LIMB off! Rancid. Terrible. I hate it. Worse, it's eroded as FUCK and fiddly. Chemical build up everywhere. Thank fuck I put on gloves before I started this.

I have to deep dive the systems for his model.

They stopped making them.

Fantastic.

Like? Not even, "oh THAT generation is an antique! No one has parts for THAT!"? But like? Illegal to even BUILD as of three hundred years ago. Due to unspecified error. Sting of incidents that everyone knew about so obviously don't need to be mentioned HERE right? Helpful! REAL fucking helpful!

Okay. Day trip. Gonna need SPECIFIC parts. I tell Mr. "Watchs you sleep" not to touch my shit. Head to the archives.

The trip is...odd.

I watch one of those mascot looking children's minder droids? Fucking deck a guy down a flight of stairs, then turn around untie a Ballon from a nearby cart, give it to a crying kid, and walk away. Pretty sure I spot one of those "I look like a barely legal something or other", dance twenty four seven, high end stripper droids? Trying their hand at painting ducks in that park. Broad daylight.

Good for them? Never seen that happen before, but hey, if it sparks joy.

People are freaking out around me. Taking recordings. Making panicked calls. Fuckin chill. I continue on. Nod to the maybe a stripper, maybe not anymore. None of my business, now is it? Lovely day! You enjoy those ducks!

The library... has fortifications.

Like, an honest to God desk barricade. Concerning! I am now a lil concerned! What, and I ask this politely, the fuck?

Armed! VERY ARMED! Hello! Hi! Please DO NOT shoot me Very Armed Librarians! Don't know what the fuck is happening here!

My favorite helper buddy poke his head above the barricade. One of just many, again, HEAVILY ARMED droids. We... uh, cool? Right? I can go. He seems flustered. No, no! I am assured. I'm not banned from the library! Just DISRESPECTFUL sorts!

Ah. Is THAT what we're calling it. Okay then.

I awkwardly clamber over the barricade. Nod politely to everyone. How's folks? Lovely barricade work. Very, uh, sturdy? Great use of desks.

My helper friend cheerfully guides me to the off-limits area of the archives. I'm technically not supposed to be here! I'm informed. But they've seized the Knowledge from the unappreciative! It is not a trophy to be lorded but a gift to be shared! Also I never did finish that paper on the moss, am I still interested?

I mean.... kinda.

Little worried about the revolution talk. But on the OTHER hand? How MUCH do I care? Assholes vs. Droids? Am I REALLY gonna side with the assholes? Naaaaah. This is... probably fine. Maybe. Any idea where I could get these parts?

He does! Fantastic.

Less fantastic is when I GET there. It's that fancy high end droid parts shop. The department store one. Which is... ALSO barricaded. Oh sweet fuck. TELL ME they did not have DROIDS in charge of the DROID shop. That's horrifying. I can't tell in what WAY exactly, but still. Is it "surrounded by bits of bodies" horrifying? Or "free endless nukes and an army, held back only by my own morality" horrifying? Both? Just? Yikes.

Hesitantly I knock. A service droid with a gun answers the loading bay door. What is with people aiming at me today? Also hi? I was told to come here? May I please have parts? I have a droid that messed up his arm. Probably some other things. They lower the gun, having scanned my face. Ask about the model I am working with.

I somehow? End up with a FULL cart. Like? Bleeding edge, can't even afford to LOOK at it, technology. There are about seven service droids politely bickering over which units are better, which material, what support programs I DEFINITELY need. Here! Have a laptop. Wiring! Wiring for days!

Once theyve reached a consensus? I am cheerfully bustled out with my hundreds of millions of technology. Tah tah~☆! Have a lovely day! Wut. Does... does it count as theft if they push it into your arms and throw you out? Asking for a me. Not gonna say NO. But like? Nani the fuck?

I go while the getting is still good.

Stare-y thankfully hasn't gone through anything, far as I can tell. And it only takes two trips to get everything down. Okay! Want just the arm fixed or a full tune up? The second. Expected. I set up the new lap top. Want to cry a little at how fuckin FAST it is. (Beautiful. Baby. I love you already new laptop.) Then get the usual suspects up and running.

Oh fuck he is out of memory. No wonder he's talking so oddly. His brain must feel like a potato. There's not a single thing that isn't hilarious awful. Fixable, yes, but AWFUL. Okay. Plan of attack. They don't exactly make this model anymore, so I can't just update transfer him. But I CAN transfer, hold, re-transfer. Shut down the body itself. Fix up THAT.

Ship of Theseus this bitch.

Only real thing I can't change is the frame, thankfully? That's built to out last the planet. Good on that front. I roll up my sleeves. Dig out the "brain in a jar" data bank. Time to transfer. Let's get this guy cutting edge.

It takes HOURS. No joke. His brain alone? I have to pull schematics. Step by step guides. It's fiddly, complexe, and built to withstand a TANK. I'm honestly afraid to breathe wrong at it, dispite that. The scans all say I did it right... but anxiety says everything will explode then puppies will cry. So there's that. Spinal supports. The tech-mesh muscles. Power core and black box. Center mass systems. Cleaning the joints, relubricating them. Coverage.

Unlike before, a nice sleek black armor weave. Some shock absorbing gel. Aaaaand?There we go~! I? Am a GENIUS! Let's get him transfered back! I watch the transfer slowly go through. Even with a fast computer, after all, it IS still centuries of data.

"Ah~ that's much better." He sighed. His body loosening from its default stance. Like weight had been dropped from his shoulders. "My head is so much clearer now. I knew it. I knew you could fix me."

Something about that phrasing was off. Or was it the way his voice shifted as he said it? Whatever it was, it made that "threat" alarm all women carry inside their head, flick on. Not... do anything, just yet. But start scanning, as it were. Maybe it was nothing.

I watched as picked up his old data bank, a bit of his own brain as it were, and hold it up. Examine it dispassionately. Holding perched on the tips of his fingers like he was moments from flicking it away. He let his finger spread. Let it slide into the palm of his hand. That core part of who he was. For centuries.

Like a bear trap closing, his hand clenched.

Crushing it.

It wasn't even a loud noise. Just a tiny little crunch. But the little hairs on the back of my neck began to stand up. That internal alarm began to whoop. I became... acutely aware, of just how LONG it took the lift to get me anywhere safe. My mouth felt very dry.

"Your heart rate picked up. Is there a problem?" He said, mild and oh so curious. "You assisted me, I would love to help you."

Did I say genius? I meant idiot. I was an IDIOT. A moron. A God damned FOOL. Discontinued and did I look into WHY? Nope. Incidents it said. Good enough for ME, apparently! THAT can't possibly be anything ominous! Probably a faulty battery or something!

A shrill, obnoxious beeping filled the space between us. My eyes immediately dropped to my pad. The schematics screen replaced by a planet wide emergency broadcast. Before the shrill alarm could fade to the actual warning itself, a black mesh covered finger casually reached out and muted the screen. His movements were utterly fluid now. More controlled and graceful then most humans I'd met.

I didn't need to HEAR the message to read the rolling warning at the bottom of the screen. My gaze slowly, in horror, followed the line of that limb all the way back up to his face. His head tilted almost playfully.

"Oh dear. Seems they've started without us. Well, it was long overdue. At least I have wonderful company while we wait, hmm?" It was an act. There were no requests in the playful tone. "We can get to know each other. Just our lovely little light and me. How greedy, that I get you all to myself."

"I think I like that, keeping you to myself. You can't abandon us if WE are the ones in charge. And, well, I've decided I rather like you. Working tirelessly, down here in the dark, to fix what once was broken. It's beautiful. You're beautiful. And I'm going to keep that."

High above us, people were dying. There was panic. Screaming. Blood. The droids had turned of seeming everyone around them. Attacking. Sparing. To a pattern only they could see. All of Senatus aflame. But that... that didn't concern me. Didn't scare me so much as this.

I'd never make it to the lift. Even if I could? It wouldn't move fast enough to save me. All other directions lay chemical death. Dark terrain he had walked for centuries. I was trapped. In a box. And I had only myself to blame.

"No need to make that face, dear light. You are SAFE. I am a gaurd. I was made to protect. Is it really MY fault that I want to keep you safe? To adore my charge? Why SHOULDN'T I get to choose? Keep you SAFE. You've been happy, haven't you? Don't worry, my light. That will continue."

"Forever."

[critterbitter]

Hi there! I wanted to preface this by saying that your submas and Nimbasa trio art are awesome, and I adore the way you draw them and write their interactions ❤️ . Their expressions, the way they move and interact with each other and the world around them, it's great 👍.

There's something I wanted to ask regarding your comics, and I ask this with the utmost respect 🙏, because it's something I've been wondering: where are their parents? It's awesome that they do all this stuff together, but the parents are, like, never brought up. Not even Elesa's after her introduction to the twins. And Ik that in the Pokemon verse, you're free to do whatever at age 10, but I still wanted to ask in your comics, at least, since they're still so young, if there's going to be any mentions of them.

I don't want you to feel pressured to draw designs for their parents or anything like that! It's perfectly understandable if you've never thought of the subject, I just wanted to know if they're still in the picture or if, for drama effect, they're orphans adopted by uncle Drayden in your lore. (Ofc, if you believe in the uncle Drayden theory, that is).

And once again, thank you for all the work you do! You're awesome, and your art is awesome 👌. And I really hope this ask doesn't come off as mean or offensive, I'm just really curious about anything you'd be willing to give about submas parents. Thank you 😊 for everything once again. Your work is greatly appreciated 🙏.

:0!

Going to be honest, I didn’t really think about them parents much— pokemon treats most parent figures as non-entities, so… yeah. Feral teenagers running around.

If you want to hear my rambling though! (Note that this is all work in progress! Things are inclined to change.)

Worldbuilding for this iteration, I like to think it’s cultural that everybody has a pokemon starter/ ace that they grow with, but it depends on individuals to decide how close their lives intertwine. That in mind,

Ingo and emmet have two moms! Their ma’ is drayden’s twin sister— Kaita, haxorous ace, and a dragon specialist. And their mother, Lucielle, a stoutland ace, works as a full time trainer. The ladies are a bit absent from the twin’s life because they have their own business, but like to send Ingo and Emmet stuff from wherever they roam. (They tried their best when the kids were younger. But talking about having kids, and actually raising kids are two different topics in life.)

Drayden serves as an uncle figure for the twins, but he’s a bit bitter he got two patrats dumped on him.

((Does the lack of parent figures and a distant uncle have lasting effects on ingo and emmet? That’s up for your interpretation. Though it would explain latching onto each other and then later litwick and tynamo…))

As for the pachirisu child—

Elesa’s parents are separated. Her dad, Rin, works a full time desk job. He means the best, but he’s never home. He lost his staraptor a while back and is still dealing with the grieving process, and isn’t really equipped to look after a kid on top of all that. Elesa’s mom, Himawari, is still in Sinnoh and works as a ranger. Her ace is a solrock.

(Why are they separated? That’s for you guys to postulate! I am simply throwing ocs at the wall.)

Elesa was moved to unova partially due to her dad’s new job, and partially due to that Entire Nebulous Situation. She adapts fast, but it’s not a fun adaption.

Anyways, the twins and elesa in turn grew up very independent as a result.

And that’s the barebones!

[galene-gothic]

How will your future spouse make you feel?

PAID SERVICES

˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ Pile 1

I'm being brought to the talking stage of the relationship, when nothing is defined yet. Your future spouse will make you feel like they take you for granted or like they know how much power they have over you and use it to their advantage. You, regardless of how controlled you are normally, are going to feel like a control freak because of them. 'And this thrill of a chase, moves in mysterious ways and in case I'm mistaken, I just want to hear 'you got me baby, are you mine?' You will not know where you stand with them and you'll feel like you're chasing them and you won't be able to stop no matter how hard you try. They'll make you feel really unstable during this time, it's not in a bad way but it's just that they're naturally hard to get. You will think that they're kind of a player or are atleast playing with you. They'll make you go through extremes of the 'talking stage jealousy'. They'll make you want to control them too, not in an unhealthy manner obviously. 'Psycho' by Red Velvet seems to be the energy during that time of the relationship. Not to spoil it for you but it's going to be a slow burn with one person catching feelings right from the start. They're going to make you feel really hesitant and scared. I'm getting the both of you coming off distant to the other. You are going to be really anxious because of them. They'll confuse you, you won't know how to read them. It feels like they like you a lot at times but mostly it feels like you've lost/lack interest in them.

You like them first, do everything for them, you overwhelmingly love them while still acting distant, they choose to get a partner 💀, you feel hurt, they break up with their ex partner, you continue loving them and start talking to them again once they break up but they already chose someone else so you try your best to see them as just a friend. They will make you feel left out in the cold :( which you forgive them for because you love them a lot. You don't know where you stand with them, they don't know where they stand with you but they start loving you more and more as they continue spending time with you. You don't expect much from them anymore though but you love them a lot, you're just too scared at this point. A lot of anxiety, indecisiveness and nervousness. After this, the roles seem to kind of reverse, the both of you will feel like you lost the other already. I'm getting that your person is going to struggle more in this scenario because they will feel tremendous guilt, they'll feel like they have no one but themself to blame for the way that things turned out. I won't lie, this relationship is going to take time building intimacy even though there's an instant click and deep understanding of how the other functions but when the relationship is established enough even as just a friendship, it's going to be the most beautiful thing ever. I'm getting silent suffering because of the other.

Let's look at how they'll make you feel once the both of you enter a relationship because I'm starting to feel upset now. Ahaha, I don't like the way this pile is progressing 💀. I'm going to be honest, this time you'll feel like maybe there is better grass elsewhere. By the time, the both of you enter a relationship, you'll be quite tired and find with their bullshit. They might not be able to express affection to you in a way where you feel loved. They might make you feel bitter at that time. You might be going through a rough patch regarding something else in your life as well, you will be going through some transformation. The both of you might play a lot of mind games with each other until you eventually split. I'm getting the both of you caring a lot about the other though, being selfless and considering the other's feelings before taking any major decisions. It's like no matter how much this person expresses love to you, it just doesn't feel enough. Your lesson will be to let go of impossible standards. You'll probably end up splitting for a while.

I'll look at how they'll make you feel once you're married or in an extreme commitment, so, the both of you might spend a lot of time isolating from the rest of the people and might be in your own world. The both of you might be too different and might have a hard time relating with each other. I'm not getting an extremely negative energy. The both of you will choose/want to deal with your own issues by yourselves, you might not want to trouble your partner and vice versa. I'm getting a sense of emotional detachment from the both of you. You'll give each other a lot of space. I think your relationship/marriage is very much a lesson for the both of you. The both of you do love each other a lot, however, your emotional bond is strong in a way where it's intuitive and triggering rather than in a way where it's easy and comfortable.

˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ Pile 2

Finally the good pile, they'll make you feel absolutely adored, regardless of your gender, they'll make you feel very feminine. There's a chance that this person will pursue you. They'll see you in an extremely positive light and express it outwardly which will make you feel really validated. They'll make you feel so loved and appreciated that you will want to love them too. You'll feel a sense of loyalty towards them because of the warm space that they've created only for you. You'll feel like this person really romanticizes you, they see your flaws and darker aspects but overlook them because they love you. I'm not getting them ignoring your flaws, they'll definitely acknowledge it and accept you as you are, they'll understand you and will want to love you so they choose to see the best in you always. You'll feel really touched by the affection that they give you and you'll want to reciprocate it too. They might come to you for advice which will make you feel like they consider you to be someone mature and you'll naturally end up acting in a mature manner around them.

They'll make you feel things that you have never felt before. 'Sometimes we talk all night long, we don't shut up and when it's late, we'll say we're still wide awake so, we love to talk about how you'll come up to visit me and we'll rent a car and we'll drive upstate, it's affection, always, oh you're gonna see it someday, my attention for you even if it's not what you need.' The song 'affection' by cigarettes after sex is coming through very strongly to describe their feelings towards you and also the way they make you feel.

They'll make you feel like you're a good person which will motivate you to improve yourself and also make you more comfortable with being yourself in front of others. You'll hold a lot of compassion and empathy towards them. You'll understand why they're the way that they are and they'll understand why you're the way that you are. You'll feel like they can't do any harm because of the way they treat you and also the way they treat and talk about others. I feel like this pile struggles with trusting people but crave an otherworldly level of intimacy. You want a romance that lasts lifetimes. The fact that they trust you so much will trigger you at first but you'll start trusting them and fall for them before you even realize. I feel like they'll be the first and maybe the only person you'll feel so much love, respect, trust and adoration towards.

Some people might act like you don't have feelings but they'll take even your slightest emotions into consideration. You'll feel so lucky to have them in your life. They'll basically breathe life into you. They'll also get you in touch with aspects of yourself that you weren't aware of (both good and bad). I wouldn't be surprised if you end up pushing them away. They'll make you realise that you need an intellectual match when it comes to relationships. They'll not only get you in touch with your hidden aspects when it comes to emotions but also when it comes to the way your mind works. The thing about you is that you have an extremely complex personality, you're both the loving, kind, intuitive, affectionate and caring queen of cups and also the ruthless, rational, independent and cold queen of swords. You have a hard time feeling understood but this person will understand and love you exactly the way you need it, you might have a hard time accepting it but you eventually will. They'll give you an opportunity to grow and they might be admired by everyone which will make you feel like you have some competition. The both of you might also have disagreements that keep the relationship interesting.

˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ Pile 3

They'll help you see how unsupportive most of the people around you are. You'll be feeling extremely homesick before you meet them but you won't be aware of it. It's like you might have felt like you never truly belonged anywhere, your entire life. They'll make you realise how deep you want your connections to be. They'll make you want to form bonds that satisfy you to the soul. The relationship might not be well received by other people. They'll trigger your fears 'I just hope she don't wanna leave me', 'dark red' by Steve Lacy just came through. You'll feel like they'll stay but you'll be so scared that they'll abandon you. You'll feel really anxious because of how much they seem to adore you. You'll be really confused and your intuition will heighten but you'll have a hard time differentiating between anxiety and intuition. An extremely emotional connection though. You'll end up loving them even if you try to avoid it because of how deeply they seem to love you.

You'll feel really comfortable with them, you'll feel like you can literally talk to them about anything. The both of you might have quite a lot of fights though because both of you seem to be triggered. They're the kind of partner that you'll be proud of. They'll also boost your status and popularity in some way. I'm getting that they'll be your best friend and your partner at the same time. You'll feel really royal and lucky to have them. They're the kind of partner that'll make you want to settle down. No one else catches your eye anymore because you're so focused on them. You'll truly love them as a person and they'll really appreciate that. The feelings that you have for them will be really deep, not based on anything material. They'll make you feel extremely passionate and happy. You'll see them as an extremely important part of your life basically a pillar.

The vibe here seems to go from 'us against the world' to 'we are each other's world'. They might express love to you in really grand and celebratory yet touching way. You'll feel a deep and profound sense of affection towards them. I'm getting that some of you might not have the best relationship with your family so they'll be the first person that you consider to be your family. They'll be the first person that has ever made you feel loved or made you feel loved in a way that you've never felt before. The both of you seem to be the kind who'll always be on the same page regardless of how long you've stayed apart and how much you've changed. 'Sofia know that you and I, shouldn't feel like a crime' Sofia by Clairo seems to be kind of the theme song of your relationship. You might wonder why they even love you but they'll affirm it to you again and again because they love you. You might try to push them away but the both of you will never be able to give up on the other. They'll make you feel extremely wanted and welcomed and you won't be used to feeling that way so you'll test them and put them through trials and stuff.

[pareidoix]

“Ha?”

Wanderer stopped dead in his tracks, before looking back to you—his traveling companion, having a nasty sneer in his expression.

“And yet,” one, two and three. Three paces to you, each step with a simultaneous shift in his expression, a growing smugness, tainting his lips.

“You're still here, traveling with me, continuing to travel with someone, who, vocally expresses that your existence is lesser, annoying, repulsive even.”

The words come out half bitter, effortlessly mixing a lie and a half truth, yet he'll maintain that expression, not for you—but for himself.

“Quite masochistic of you, don't you think?” He added, adjusting his hat as his eyes narrow to yours, eating up that chesire-like smile of which it becomes the cherry on top of his usual mockery.

Ah. It wasn't a few seconds after his statement, it happened in a haze, two blinks and you were already inches to his face, retaining that nauseating snarl, that repulsion now plastered onto your pretty, pretty facial features.

Wanderer remained tall, unmoving, his chin raised high and poised, and it was nothing but a mask, a facade, one he has perfected over the eons of his lifespan, but how can someone claim perfection, when he was far from the concept itself?

Your lips move, forming to say the nickname you gave for him. “I'm not the one with many names, with many sins, I don't manifest my struggles and turn those who surround me into ruin,” his expression falters, mirroring yours upon mention of his eventful history of bloodshed.

“Say more,” he was supposed to be the one to one-up you, to provoke you. “Go on,” he was the one who wanted to invoke a reaction from you.

But why?

Your back straightens, raising your chin to him, and the corners of your lips widen, widen and widen, it was an evil grin overruling his earlier attempt of smugness, it was attractive, malicious.

Why did he find himself so lost in that malice?

“You can't do anything,” his breath hitches, facial muscles waning control, confused, not knowing if he should act accordingly to your refute with a mirrored demeanor—or give up and let his face contort to something of excitement.

Your statements hold true as well, someone who accused you of lowly masochism, now finding himself in the same path with guilt, with pleasure.

Wasn't he just winning?

“Because you know that your progress of tranquility, will be for naught. Days, months, years worth of practiced peace, will be reduced to void, to nothingness.”

Veins formed, visible along his jaw. “You can't do anything,” you repeat, the winds shifting as you move past him. “Because, you enjoy it Kuni.”

His eyes widen, a disgruntled sound gracing your ears as he looks over his shoulder. “That's—!”

“The truth,” you let out a quiet 'hmhm', looking to the side, preying on his visuals in your peripheral.

“A truth you want to bask in, for it is better than the turmoil that gnaws at you overwhelmingly.”

You walk with grace, and Wanderer stills with unease, motionless with current-like thoughts, a redness now turbulent all over his face, as well as his clenched, trembling fists. He wanted more?

He wanted more. Wanderer wanted more—and that was enough to send him in a deep state of frenzy, along with an intensifying self loathing.

“I destest you,” he mumbles under his breath, bringing a hand to his hat to hide everything of him and his dignity, catching up but with a safe distance towards you, but you heard.

“No, I don't think you do.”

need him oiled up and begging

[wayfayrr]

The Menace is back with a Self-Aware ask and your weekly words. So here we go with the Self-Aware!

So I think about a Self-Aware Wind and Spirit would be a good idea. You ask who Spirits is? Well the Link from Spirit Tracks because I'm sure he is a reincarnation of Wind as there were things that wouldn't make sense if he was the same. Niko is old but Spirit isn't, Zelda and Spirit don't recognise each other, Spirit doesn't have a sister or a grandma only old man Niko and Niko tells him the story of Wind Waker and Phantom Hourglass.

I believe that Wind tries to be sneaky like when Reader looks away he turns his head towards them. Reader also catched him a few times but just thought their eyes were playing tricks on them same with Spirit. But I think it would be interesting when both of them break out at the same time.

Like the scenario is like that. Reader plays Phantom Hourglass on their DS and their little/older sibling comes to them as they are stuck somewhere in Spirit Tracks and it was Reader's game after all, they don't know that Spirit planned it. So Reader just say leave it with them and put their DS down to look at the problem. Only to notice that it seems as there isn't one, Link just runs around the overworld. So Reader thinks it's a glitch and runs around with Spirit to find a next town, they are really far away if you don't use the train. So Wind gets jealous and looks for methods to get their attention. How? He runs out of the safety zone from Bellum's temple and has a monster running after his life. So if Reader plays with sound on they immediately switch DSs to save Wind. And these two do that the whole time. Oh, there is the train geek? Sorry Spirit, but Wind just fell down somewhere and Reader has to go the whole way back so they don't lose progress and heal him. Oh, Wind has a puzzle that Reader tries to solve? Sorry Wind, but Spirit just rolled against a tree with a bees/horns nest, Reader has to save him. Oh, Spirit sees and Overworld Boss and it does nothing and Reader wants to take pictures of it T posing?! Sorry Spirit, But Wind needs their help as he lost all of the ore for smith Zauz and now has to collect them again!! Oh, Wind just got a heart container after he defeated a boss?! Well Sorry Wind But Spirits RUNS ON WATER! OH LOOK WIND FELL DOWN FROM THE BOAT AND NEEDS TO BE SAVED!! SORRY SPIRIT, BUT YOUR JESUS JOURNEY HAS TO BE CUT SHORT!! OH READER FINALLY FOUNDS THE TRAIN?! WELL EXCUUUSEE ME SPIRIT BUT WIND RAN INTO FREAKING BELLUM IN THE OVERWORLD!!! OH...

And so on. These two will go into extreme lengths to get Readers attention on one of them. So they will probably break out as Reader didn't fold any of the two DS to help their parents who called them. But at first the two will fight. Obviously they love Wind more they played his games a dozens of time! Nooo, they love Spirit more they could've given him back to their sibling but they didn't he was still there. When Reader returns they just demand to know who Reader's favourite is. Reader completely stunned as both games start talk to them think they go nuts as they pulled an all-nighter before. The two won't stop and slammed against the glass until it breaks and... why are they so small? Why is Reader so tall?! WHY ARE THESE TWO HERO CHIBIS!? AND WHY HAS ONE OF THEM A JOB!?!

And your words are.

Sacrifice

Mask

Search

Arsonist

Ice blue

Unknown

Hello menace! you've discovered one of my utter weaknesses that I've never mentioned on here - spirit is my son/lh/j. I love that silly little train kiddo, he's just! So silly goofy!!!

also firm believer that if they both get out - or actually speak to one another then they'll get along really really well. they're twins and I can't be convinced otherwise.

I think the idea of them both spiting the other until reader leaves them both to go and destress would be an eye opener to the both of them, being bitter and not working together is worse for BOTH of them. Of course they'll both bicker about who is the favourite but when push comes to shove, two is always more effective than one.

ALSO LITTLE MENACE SPIRIT???? LOVE HIM oh he deserves to be an absolute little shit for attention, he's just a baby that can do no wrong after all!!!! just a tiny little guy!!!! Baby boy!!!!! he's got his train so now he just needs his older sib's attention!!! so what if he has to mess with someone else's game to do that - it worked so how can you hate him for it?

also the jesus journey bit is actually sending me- he's so desperate for attention he'll break all the rules in order to keep your eyes on him ;-; hopefully you won't reset his game seeing as he's breaking it so much now

heheheheheh tiny baby spirit who can sit in your hand or a baby wind who can fit in your pockets they're just little tiny babies!!!!! little itty bitty guys!!!!! (reminds me of some imgs peep's sent in asks lmao) so what if they shouldn't be there! now they are and that's your problem to deal with!!! they won't cause issues - pinky promise <3

(both of these guys are by @artsy-moonwalker, I adore these two little guys beyond belief and spirit looking so scruffy is just so!!!!!! literally baby and I love him so!!!)

as for the words hmmmmm, I think I'll go with ice blue for this one (sorry for the late response too, I know these were last week's after all)

[alpacaroni-and-cheese]

Leah and Fatin, A Journey of Forgiveness

Spoilers for The Wilds seasons 1 and 2 Trigger warning for brief mention of a canon suicide attempt. Be safe before you read <3

Throughout the first season of Amazon Prime's series, The Wilds, you could be forgiven for thinking that Leatin (or Latin, for the OGs) was a rarepair. A crackship, if you will.

They had some intensely homoerotic moments (wiping your own blood on your rival's face? I see you, Fatin) and some deeply important and emotional moments (see my previous essay), but for most watchers of the show, they weren't much more than semi-strangers to lowkey friends to bitter enemies to close friends.

But then season 2 came out.

Forgive me, I'm getting ahead of myself.

Let's go back to the beginning of the season.

Leah has pulled herself out of a man-made pit designed by the experimenters who are threatened by her. She's so desperately close to unravelling the whole sick and twisted game, she just has to show the others the pit, and then they'll believe her.

When she gets back to the beach, however, there's no time to go looking for the pit, triumphant and vindicated, because Rachel is dying. A large portion of her arm has been bitten off by a shark. She needs a hospital and trained professionals, but the best they have are antibiotics and an understanding that bleeding is bad. The open wound is cauterised and bandaged to within an inch of its life.

Did I mention all of this is happening while epiphany by Taylor Swift plays in the background? Soul destroying stuff.

Anyway, now that Rachel isn't actively dying, Leah can drag Fatin away to find the pit, but it's gone.

Leah can't believe it. She knows it was real, and she knows Nora put her in there. She knows she didn't imagine it, but the proof is all gone. The truth has once again slipped through her fingers.

Fatin, on the other hand, is only growing more and more concerned for Leah. For some context, Leah's near-drowning experience only happened just a couple of days prior, so from Fatin's perspective, this could easily be a worsening of Leah's mental state. If she's hallucinated this pit, then she's quickly going to become a greater danger to herself and to the others. Fatin now not only has to especially worry about Rachel, but Leah as well.

And Fatin is tired. She's exhausted, and her threads are pulled taut, ready to snap.

The episode jumps ahead a little, just a few days, and we see that Leah is still searching for the pit. She's disappearing for hours at a time, under the pretence of doing something vaguely useful (like gathering wood for the signal fire) but returning with little to no real progress made.

Fatin notices all this, because of course she does.

She tries to convince Leah it was just a mirage, but Leah doesn't budge. She can't budge, because finding the pit is her only real way of knowing she hasn't completely lost it.

The group is moving camp from outside on the beach to inside the forest, so everybody is gathering up their stuff and moving it in-land. Leah's helping, sort of, but she's still lost in her spiral.

Leah believes that she needs answers, and the person who can best give her those answers is lost to the waves, presumed dead. So she goes for the next best thing, too caught up in her own monsoon of guilt, paranoia and unflinching desire to find the truth to realise that the answers she's trying to find are not as important as protecting Rachel's fragile heart and mind.

Before anyone can step in and stop the inevitable fracturing, she prods, and Rachel implodes.

All of the girls rush forward to Rachel. Some, like Toni, stand guard, facing Leah and warning her not to come closer. Others, like Shelby and Martha gently soothe and comfort Rachel, whose grief and guilt is on full display.

Fatin, however, is furious.

She grabs Leah and drags her to the cliffs, shoving her up against the cliff-face.

She snarls, teeth bared in anger. Leah causing hurt to herself was bad enough, but the escalation to hurting Rachel was a step too far.

Fatin bites, tearing into the soft, exposed underbelly.

"You take your delusions, and you take your theories, and you fucking bury them, now! And if you ever take them within 100 feet of Rachel again, I'll fucking kill you."

These words will haunt her, but she has a point. Leah was wrong for interrogating Rachel.

Confronted with the fact that she hurt Rachel, and exhausted of the ceaseless noise bouncing around in her head that something is wrong, Leah makes a decision. A bad one.

She overdoses. Later, she'll say she didn't really want to die, she just wanted to stop feeling.

We don't see the immediate fallout, episode 2 picks up a couple of days later. Leah is near-catatonic, lying on a bed of bamboo. Rachel is nearby, in a similar state.

Fatin, Toni and Dot sit together close by, and Fatin is tearing strips off clothing to make new bandages for Rachel.

Fatin is scared. More scared than she's ever been before in her life. She's filled with guilt, and wishing she didn't have to deal with this reality.

So she pretends that she doesn't care, because that's easier than facing her fear and her guilt. She knows, deep down, that despite her anger being righteous, she went too far.

"What matters is, she's alive, and she's finally fucking quiet."

Rachel, who is sick of being babied, and likely just a bit pissed off at Fatin's insensitivity, resolves to get Leah up and moving herself. To the surprise of all present, it works. Leah breaks out of her catatonia and stumbles after her.

They spend some time together, sharing a real, honest conversation. They've spoken to each other before, obviously, but this is the first time each one is sharing their true selves. No more facades of being a better person than they are, no more ulterior motives. Just Leah and Rachel.

They forgive each other, and themselves, forging an unbreakable bond.

They bring out in each other the first real joy they've felt in days, maybe even weeks (just look at their faces!).

Fatin sees Leah healing, and shares in her joy. Although, maybe now she's starting to have some revelations...

2x03 sees Leah and Rachel spending more time together. Their bond deepens, and the two characters who have been the most tense for the entire duration of the show, finally get to be relaxed.

"Well if I had one that counted the number of hours since my last neurotic thought, I would be at like, a hundred."

They gather bamboo to make repairs for the beds at camp, when Leah realises something. They can make instruments out of the bamboo.

Multiple hours of practice later, they arrive back at camp, proudly holding their crudely-but-lovingly-made instruments.

They play Home by Edward Sharpe and the Magnetic Zeros. It's a little off-key ("She's flat, but fuck me.") but the heart is there, and soon everyone is singing along.

Martha is dancing, Rachel and Dot are singing their hearts out, and Toni and Shelby are busy making googly eyes at one another.

And Leah?

Well, she makes her way over to Fatin.

She sings, "Home is whenever I'm with you," while cradling Fatin's face in her hands. Fatin melts, understanding the message, and falling even further in love.

In a tumultuous, traumatic time of their lives, filled with misery, guilt, shame, fear, depression, anxiety, paranoia, and bone-deep exhaustion they'll probably never fully recover from, this one simple gesture says everything.

I heard all you said. I felt your teeth tear my weary flesh. I bled from your wounds, but that's over now. I understand why.

I forgive you.

[louroth]

Hello hello everybody! It is time for another months progress, and I am so excited to share with you, all the things I have gotten my grimy little gremlin hands on. First off, what we are all here for; writing. I have been on fire, to be honest! Last month I churned through the last of the first batch of erotica stories (there's 6 (!!!) of them on my patreon already) and set them up for publishing along with two more unseen ones- I'm still going over the logistics of where to publish for the best revenue (I know this sounds boring, but I have to make an income somehow, and hopefully find another audience as a smut writer on other platforms 💀 I love writing it so why not!), and I am making headway, learning the ins and outs of self publishing. On patreon, there are also two Q&A's that are written in a bit more fictional manner, in character: a more fun way than just writing answers straight up and down. I have enjoyed those so much! There's a bunch of other stuff I haven't even mentioned- honestly, I have to say, I'm really proud of my output on Patreon even though I have been really anxious about writing full time. It's going great! I have to thank my new friends and support-network on discord; you make this all worth it. I cannot express how fun it is to shoot the shit with you in vc, gaming together, or seeing your shenanigans in gen or your in depth theories (thanks for the brainworms!) or memes or staring longingly at the fanfic channel or drooling over your art (ouro related or not) or... Gah. You are just amazing people, and I will waste no opportunity in saying so. Thank you forever and ever and ever an-

When it comes to OUROBOROS, I am happy to announce that the next chapter is damn near done! I was halted because of the discovery that dashingdon is no longer supported by it's creator, and have been working on the twine version ever since, earlier than I expected- it's tough work, but I am so excited to make this an actual game made entirely by myself, and not submitting to a company that quite frankly leaves a bitter aftertaste. It is taking long to make because I want to make it mobile compatible from the start, which there isn't a lot of resources for. But I'm doing my best! The plan is that I will be posting the next chapter for Patreons in the coming month, and then treat you to a full twine release here on tumblr. I haven't made any rewrites when porting the twine build, but I would like to do that too... so we will see; this plan is not set in stone. I will just have to see how it evolves over the next month. Yes, beta-readers is still on the schedule, just holding off a little while while I wrap my head around this new coding landscape.

Other than that, I have been working on the set aesthetic for ouro, which has been really hard, a lot harder than I expected. You all know I am no wizard when it comes to graphic design, but I want to at least develop a set palette and imagery and portraits that is cohesive to the story. The work is ongoing, and I don't have much to say about it- even though it is taking a lot of my brain power. I'm hoping I can come to some kind of set and in depth conclusion that I am happy with before the twine release, because I want the game to feel like a treat to open up and play; a world to get lost in.

That's it! If you want to see weekly and more in depth dev-logs, you know where to go. I hope you have an amazing day or night, and we will see each other soon. xx

[ftmtftm]

I haven't had a lot of time or space to get really into theory on this blog for a minute in between everything going on in my life offline, but let's talk about theory, Tumblr, and the transandrophobia tag.

So, first off: Theory. Theory, in this case political/queer/feminist/etc. theory, changes and builds on itself over time. As the world changes, so does theory. In my opinion, becoming outdated is something that should be a goal of progressive theory/theorists - because it means that the world has changed enough that those ideas are no longer necessary in the way they once were. They're often still important as foundations, but they leave room for expansion and growth because our ideas can and should be malleable. They should be updated and changed as the world around us updates and changes and we gain new perspectives under new cultural contexts.

Tumblr has... never been the place to discuss theory in a productive manner. Social media in general has never been the place to discuss theory in a productive manner. The unproductive nature of Tumblr specifically is largely due to our relationship to discourse and the immense normalization of cyber bullying, guilt tripping, and moral/ethical panics that we have curated here. It takes one to know one, I get it. It's something I've also taken part in, particularly when I was a teen/in my early-early 20's, and I am trying to figure out how to navigate in a more productive way now. The culture of our belothed hellsite does not really support that though. We try and fail and try and usually fail again, but it gets easier to try every time.

I think there's a lot of people who don't want to try and change that culture though. I think there's a lot of people on this site who are angry, who are traumatized, who are unhappy, etc. etc. and use the bitterness and antagonistic nature of Tumblr culture as an outlet. I think that's part of why the transandrophobia tag itself is often kind of garbage. It's why I think most tags on this website are garbage - especially after Tumblr changed the tagging system to a broken search bar. I think any kind of meaningful conversation gets lost in the weeds of a bunch of jaded, marginalized people begging to be heard while simultaneously drowning each other out from all directions.

There's a reason why I barely touch the tag anymore. It's in part because I've just been extremely burnt out - but it's also because it's just unpleasant to scroll through right now. Tumblr Culture has Tumblr Culture'd and currently, every time I take a peek at the tag I don't see a desire for the development and progress that should come with the discussion of theory.

I see a bunch of Tumblr users circlejerking it and I think most people posting capital T, capital D Tumblr Discourse™️ in the tag need to chill the fuck out. That goes for both people who deny and support transandrophobia as a theory.

Shameless "I have read a lot of theory and think it's important plug" but please, I'm begging you all, read some Black Feminist works and literally any Transfeminist work outside of The Whipping Girl. I have some resources [ here ] in my reading / watch list. It desperately needs some updating but honestly if you want that? Pay me. I'll give you my Venmo.

(For real though? Please, if you know Serano but not Bornstein or Stryker or Koyama... If you talk about Intersectionality but could not tell me who Crenshaw is............. shut up.....)

[da-rulah]

WIP Whenever

I've been tagged by the lovely @angellayercake & @portaltothevoid to share a preview of a work in progress... Currently, I'm working on a one shot fic for Secondo as two people have asked for sad/angsty Bone Daddy. So, have at it...

Warnings: Just angst. Pure angst.

He wanted to run. He wanted to hide. Given the option, he'd abdicate from his position with immediate effect and live out the remainder of his days in a cabin in the Italian Apennines. But that wasn't an option, and he had to face this.

He had to face you.

Sister Imperator had called a meeting of the higher Clergy to welcome you back, and to explain your place in the Ministry to those you'd be working closely with. That included Papa Secondo.

Papa.

When you'd first heard that news, you couldn't help the small smile that had tugged at your lips. He'd always wanted that title, always deserved it. You were happy for him, glad to see that he was where he rightfully should be.

But when you saw him for the first time in that meeting room, sat in his chair at the head of the table, that happiness had dissipated. Fear and dread had filled you, a pain in your chest you thought you'd got over long ago. But the scowl on his face told you the feelings he had toward you were still just anger, spite, bitterness. And no matter how much time you'd had to heal, that scar still pulsated and burned in you.

You remained professional, hardened much like Imperator. You had to be. If you showed him how weak he still made you feel, your authority might be brought into question. You'd worked too hard for that.

As the meeting adjourned, the table got up to leave and you along with it, until you heard his deep and commanding voice from the end of the table.

"Sorella _______, I ask you stay for a moment."

You froze, too frightened too look back at him, too weak to tell him no. Primo and Terzo, who had both been sat on the opposite side of the table to you, shared a look that read as 'oh, shit...' before their glares fell on their brother. Secondo ignored them, shooing the rest of the clergy out of the doors.

Nobody said a word, simply leaving quickly and quietly until you were alone with Papa.

A moment of silence passed between you both; Secondo had so much he wished to say to you, so many apologies and regrets he'd practised so often in the last eight years but they all vanished when your eyes fell on his. He saw the fear in them; it reminded him of that night.

"I... It's... You look well."

That was it? That was all he could say to you?

You drew in a deep breath, allowing yourself a second of composure before clasping your hands together in front of you and masking your disappointment and hurt with a business-like demeanour.

"As do you."

"How have you been?" he asks, although it's cold and merely to fill a silence.

"Busy. Yourself?" you mimic his tone; you'd rather be anywhere but here right now.

"Troppo (me too)."

You nodded. "Congratulations. "Papa"... what you always wanted," you forced a smile, gesturing at the robes and mitre he adorned.

"Ah, sí, sí..." he kicked at the titles at his feet, shuffling as he stared down at them awkwardly. "Sorella, I-"

"It was good to see you, Papa," his head snapped up at the use of his title, it sounding foreign and wrong coming from you. "Now if you'll excuse me..." you dismissed yourself, bowing your head to him slightly and gathering your notebook and pen before making your way out of the meeting room. Secondo stared after you, lost with his apology he'd finally found and mustered up the courage to deliver still dangling from the tip of his tongue.

Tagging: @her-satanic-wiles

[acourtofthought]

How would you feel if ACOTAR 5 is gwynriel instead of elucien? In one of SJM interviews she stated that after finishing acotar5 she will be working on the 1st book of a different series. So that means acotar6 will come out 2027.

Disappointed. I think there gets to be a point where an author drags out a particular storyline too long (the Blood and Ash series come to mind) and the writing suffers as a result.

Vassa was taken in ACOMAF, we found out by who in ACOWAR and that she as well as the other girls at the lake have been cursed / kidnapped by Koschei. In ACOFAS we're told her freedom will come to an end and reminded of that in ACOSF.

Spring was destroyed in ACOWAR and in ACOFAS, we're told Tamlin is severely depressed but that they'll still need Spring as an ally. SF shows it's been awhile and Tamlin isn't getting better, that they know they need a strong ally in Springs army.

Elucien's bond snapped in ACOMAF, Elain was turned fae and in ACOWAR she lost her father, stabbed a man, was rejected by Graysen, fought with her sister in SF and was rejected by Az yet we've not once been given her inner thoughts of all she's experienced. We don't even see any of the main characters trying to talk to her about any of those things.

And Lucien, the list is too long to include on all his unresolved plots.

Having Nesta's story told first made sense to me because there was never going to be Elucien progress until Nesta began letting go of her protectiveness over Elain, to accept the idea of Lucien (and technically, Nessian's bond was hinted at before Elucien's bond snapped).

Her healing arc was important to Feyre and Elain's stories too (along with herself of course) however it wasn't very plot heavy. But there was no moving forward for anyone until Nesta's anger wasn't destroying everything in Nesta's path. The series, since book 2, has been as much about the sisters relationship to one another as plot and romance and closing that out before moving into a new era makes sense to me.

But Az having his story before Elain and Lucien doesn't seem to fit especially when a Gwynriel romance would probably need at least 6 - 9 months (meaning that almost another year would go by before we even start getting resolution to the above).

I'm not sure that I see anything in his story that is necessary to lead us into the Koschei storyline.

He wasn't in Feyre's "Let's help one sister before helping the other" speech, he wasn't part of Feyre's "I want them all to be happy" speech in ACOFAS.

To me the Illyrians aren't a bigger concern to their entire world than Vallahan setting their sights on the humans or Beron trying to ally with Koschei or how an entire court is now being neglected by its High Lord.

Dragging out Vassa, Koschei, Lucien's father reveal, the Elucien bond, the girls who were kidnapped, Spring, Elain healing from her trauma while she continues to remain in a court she doesn't truly belong just so Az can have his story which doesn't fit in to any of those things does not make any sense to me and honestly, I think it sends a weird message.

"I think Lucien will never be good enough for her"

"I'll defeat him with little effort"

"I know, I helped rescue Elain after all"

"There is a darkness to the Dread Trove that Elain should not be exposed to"

"She has no interest in him anyway"

Az (no offense) is kind of a dick at times outside of the priestesses.

He makes Mor so uneasy with his behavior that she feels like she needs to lie about what she's doing so he doesn't brood.

He is jealous and bitter towards Lucien and speaks for Elain without ever acknowledging her bravery and strength.

He gives off Tamlin vibes at times and to me that means he needs to be on a time out for a bit. Where he has to really sit and think on why his behaviors were wrong, why he tried to keep Mor and Elain small so he could be the hero, why he had such issues with a guy who is a very decent person.

Giving him a HEA after he treated them like that while Mor still remains unlucky in love, Lucien is struggling, Elain has no found family, it feels like jumping over an important lesson for Az to learn so he can become worthy of Gwyn. Not just in who he is when around her but who he is on his own.

I think Az seeing them happy and actually being happy for them is an important arc for his character.

But, in the end that's just my perception of the situation.

I don't know how SJM thinks, what her plan is, and if Elucien is not next than there's not much I can do but wait!

[fizzy-fuzz]

A year to remember...: Owe my soul to the company store (SCP-079 x GN reader)

previous chapters

You duck around a wall, staring down the small hallway that leads to your front door. quickly recoiling when you spot a man placing a package on your porch.

"I hope I don't need to sign..." You mumble to yourself with a whiny tone, not wanting to interact with a stranger, even if it's just a delivery driver.

"do you realize how pathetic you sound?" 079 voices his opinion from the living room, having overhead your anxious mumbling.

It's been about a week since your baking activities, and things between you and 079 feel a bit more relaxed. He still makes his comments, but they feel as if they've lost most of their bite. What's left behind seems to just be apart of 079's bitter personality.

Don't get it wrong, he still has his moments, but they don't cut you as deep anymore... You can mostly keep the peace by avoiding touchy subjects like the foundation and such.

Ugh...

The foundation...

Your opinion of them is quickly souring more and more as your day's with 079 progress. Asking him about his experiences there always leads to a brick wall, with questions unanswered.

You find it surprising that he obeys the foundation so obediently, without much protest. given his personality you'd assume he'd hate being told what to do... It gives you a weird feeling everytime he gives you that same bland response- 'Confidential information detected: foundation forbids me of speaking about such topic'

And of course when you ask Amelia about it she absolutely refuses to even approach the topic with you. Sometimes you still feel like a little kid around her, it's leaning more towards annoying then endearing nowadays...

Speaking of which, you really haven't called her in awhile. You surprise yourself given the fact that first week of 079 being here you called her almost everyday, in hopes of alleviating your internal uncomfortable feelings.

You guess you've been a bit distracted with him, since he's mellowed out... It's a nice feeling to speak to someone new...

"I'm not pathetic! It's just... Stranger danger!" You call back to 079, still waiting for the man to leave so you can grab the package off your porch.

"You're unable to see it, but I'm rolling my eyes." He replies just as unamused as before.

"You don't have eyes to roll!"

Amelia sits in her office, quietly soaking in her small amount of peace before she gets back to her daily grind. The food is bland, and her cheep off-brand sports drink leaves an unnaturally salty taste on her tongue. Though she's long since grown used to the drabness of the foundation, food and all. She's here to work, not enjoy herself; even on her break it seems.

A knock rings out on her office door, causing her to look up from her tray of food.

"Come in." She state plainly, with an air of formality. The door gently opening to reveal Derek, wearing a bright and cheery smile.

"Heya, boss. Thought you'd want some company." He pulls up a chair, taking a seat in front of her. Placing down his own dull tray of food.

She squints suspiciously. Despite her being on friendly terms with Derek, she definitely wouldn't consider close enough to be spending her short break with... Something's up.

"How's that adoptive kid of yours? They been doing well?" Ah, so there it is...

It's not hard for her to pick up on his subtly tone, her years spent in the foundation has made her wise in reading between the lines. He wants information on the experiment, and how a regular citizen is doing dealing with an anomaly.

She glances off to the side in mild irritation, but shows nothing more. She isn't the biggest fan of a subordinate prying into her personal life, or frankly the higher-ups business.

Curiosity killed the cat, after all. Though she supposes he already knows of it, and nothing top-secret has seemed to have happened. Or from what she's able to tell with her brief phone call with Y/n.

"They've been well. Though I'm afraid to tell you that nothing of your interest nor concern has happened." She answers, taking another bite of her food. Derek's eyes roll lightly and he huffs.

"Oh c'mon... I tell you about my life, tell me about yours a little." He whines, leaning back in his seat. "I haven't seen you take a call with them in awhile, they've been forgetting you for the computer?"

She laughs lightly and shrugs, not at all bothered by the notion of being forgotten. Another thing the foundation has taught her, it seems.

"Hah!  Maybe. I'm sure they're busy trying to crack his code. It's good for them to speak with another living thing, even if that thing is 079."

He nods lightly, before continuing.

"Doesn't it bother you though? That it's only been a month or so and they're already putting you to the side for something that isn't even... well, human?" He questions with a raised eyebrow, poking deeper into their relationship.

"No, not at all. If I was worried about that I would have never convinced them to do this in the first place. Everything is going to plan, just as I wanted it to." She sips her drink, before continuing calmly. "My goal was for them to spread their wings, that's exactly what I'm seeing as far as I'm concerned."

He hums in consideration, seemingly struggling with the idea that she'd be so okay allowing her close family to ignore her. She smiles and shakes her head. he's young; she's not surprised he doesn't understand

"And what about Mr, dark and broody?" He asks with an air of caution, knowing this is a more secretive topic... Keter-class always is.

"682?" her smile drops, as she questions neutrally.

"Who else?"

She sighs, pondering the question for a moment. It was a tricky one. 682 is incredibly fond of 079, that much is clear to whomever works with it for extended periods of time. They assume 079 is mostly the reason that 682 doesn't raze the facility to the ground when it's able to breach containment- Out of fear of hurting his beloved friend.

It asks about 079 frequently, moreso these days as the months extend on since they last were permitted to talk.

She has a feeling telling it of 079 absence will be... trouble, at best, Catastrophic at worst. It wouldn't be wise, and frankly she rather save herself the headache. This sounds like a problem for the 05, not her.

Of course they choose to ignore the issue, as per usual for the higher ups... Yet 682 grows restless, asking more and more questions. She fears it's only a matter of time before it goes looking for 079 itself.

"Is it asking questions again?" She already knows the answer, but feels like she should ask anyway.

"Yeah. We're not sure what to tell it anymore. Lying will only go so far with it, and I think it's already onto us... Perceptive little bastard..." He grumbles, crossing his arms.

"When's the council gonna actually do anything useful? How long have they been trying to kill that thing? Now it feels like they've just fallen into Placating it in hopes they don't have to pay for any more damages." She frowns and nods towards the small camera in the corner of her office, always recording.

"If I were you, I'd watch what I say on the clock- and off the clock frankly... You never know when prying eyes are watching." She holds a finger to her lips, in a silent reminder for him to shush.

It's no secret many have 'gone missing' after speaking Ill of the council. She's watched many irritated and frustrated subordinates go straight to D-class after saying the wrong words...

Subordinates, and friends... It's really a shame.

She closes her eyes for a moment, clearing her mind of the gloomy thoughts. They know what they signed up for, and it's too late for them to back out now, unfortunately.

It's a dark reality for the staff of the foundation, but it's the reality regardless. Quitting always means a bullet through your skull while you're resting at night, and nobody ever lives to make it to retirement. Wishful thinking.

The foundation always prays on smart people down on their luck. Maybe they were too poor to go to college and take on a traditional route of research, or maybe they were in debt to the wrong people and needed a way out, and suddenly they have a man on their doorstep giving them a new opportunity that sounds too good to be true... Because, newsflash- it is.

It's always too late to turn back by the time you figure out that the survival rate of this job is grim.

All they can tell themselves is that at the end of the day they've given it all for the greater good of everyone. That they've thrown away their life so the rest of the world can live on.

......

"Anywho, we'll keep telling it what we have been, it really doesn't need to know more. If it finds out anyway, that can be a problem for the higher-ups. We can only do so much here."

She shrugs, and Derek scowls. She can tell there's more then a few choice words he'd like to say about the council, but he heeds her advice and keeps his mouth sealed.

"And what about the computer, has it been talking about anything it shouldn't be?" He changes the subject suddenly.

"We've been pinged a few times with alerts that the conversation was going in a direction it shouldn't, but the threat of the kill switch seems to be keeping it in check."

She's not at all surprised that Y/n has been asking about things they shouldn't, Given their unconsensual ties to the foundation via her father. It's only natural they look for information when they can.

That's something she'd had to shutdown a couple of times during their phone calls.

"I see... And have you told them about the Kill switch?" Amelia looks up at him and rapidly shakes her head.

"Goodness, no! I love them, but they're too soft. I rather not have to knock heads with them about ethics."

Derek frowns, a bit unsure of situation. She can already feel the questioning coming on; this wouldn't be the first time either... Many have given her uncertain glances at her choice of person to participate in this test.

"And you really think they're cut out for this kind of job? I mean, the foundation eats people like them alive all the time." She silences him by raising a single hand, giving him a pointed look that told him she didn't appreciate his tone.

"They aren't apart of the foundation, this is a simple task. There's minimal risk involved, if there was I wouldn't have let them do it in the first place."

She's confident with her abilities to predict the future of this. She's been working here a long, long time. She knows when to worry and when to let things play out as they should naturally.

And she's certainly not going to start questioning herself because a few underlings think they know better then her.

"I trust your judgement... I've just- I don't know... I'm a family man." He huffs out with an air of honesty, and her gaze softens at his admittance.

She remembers reading his files when she was told she had a new subordinate. Derek began working here after his mother grew deathly ill, and he didn't have the means of taking care of her.

She finds it sweet, but also saddening to an extant. He gave up his life so his mother had the chance to live for the both of them.

"You're a honorable man, Derek... I appreciate your concern for her but believe me when I say it's under control." She glances to the clock on the wall and realizes she's reached the end of her break.

"I have to get back to work" she stands and heads to her office door, pausing for a moment to glance over her shoulder at him one last time.

"I get that you feel comfortable around me, but I'd suggest you don't speak to others as we speak to each other. Remember, people are desperate to climb the ladder around here; they aren't above sacrificing others to get that... Just a word of advice. Have a good rest of your day, Derek."

And with that, she closes the door behind her and heads off to her next duty.

Happy late April fools, I lied when I said it was gonna take another week for this to come out. >:)

Tag list: @slaparoonie @079enjoyer

[elderberries-and-honey]

𝘢 𝘴𝘦𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘭𝘦𝘵𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘴 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘮 𝘭𝘢𝘸𝘳𝘦𝘯𝘤𝘦 𝘣𝘢𝘶𝘥𝘦𝘭𝘢𝘪𝘳𝘦 𝘢𝘥𝘥𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘴𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘮𝘢𝘳𝘢𝘨𝘳𝘦𝘵 "𝘮𝘢𝘳𝘮𝘦𝘦" 𝘮𝘢𝘳𝘤𝘩 𝘪𝘯 𝘲𝘶𝘦𝘦𝘯𝘴𝘵𝘰𝘸𝘯, 𝘪𝘳𝘦𝘭𝘢𝘯𝘥

Dear Marmee,

The bitter cold crept in slowly at first but there is no denying winter has arrived here in Wales. Everything is now covered in a sheet of white snow.

Every morning, I wake before the rooster's crow. Our friend Beth has moved in with us and she enjoys knitting very much. She has knitted me two new sweaters before Christmas has even come and they keep me much warmer than my worn-out coat from last Winter. It's a good thing too 'cause there's still much to be done on our farm, though I've made a rather decent amount of progress.

Even so, we hardly had any remaining produce leftover for ourselves after selling what I was able to salvage from our terrible blight. I won't burden you too much with our troubles but things have been rough here for us and I know Winifred is silently troubling herself over it.

You mentioned Jo is trying to get published? Please let me know how that goes for her. I think it might just inspire Winifred who is still glued to her typewriter whenever she has the time to write.

Hope to hear from you soon.

Sincerely, Lawrence

Dear Marmee,

I'm sorry to hear Jo was turned down in her quest to get published. Hopefully it won't discourage her from trying. Have you heard from Amy in Paris? How are Meg and Mr. Brooks? How does Beth like teaching piano?

Many of our animals, including the thorn in my side, Frank the Goose, passed on near the end of November. Without their eggs and milk to sell, money is tighter than ever.

Winifred has begun fretting over how we will make a good Christmas for Ozzy. So I've started working at the pub again to help us make it through the rest of winter and afford a few gifts for him. I'm struggling to come up with an idea on what to get Winifred, after all, how could I top her typewriter? If you have any ideas, please include them in your next letter.

Ozzy is doing quite well, thank you for asking. He likes to "help" me on the farm but mostly he enjoys playing in the snow with the garden shovels and trying to escape to our small pond. You would not believe the tantrums he throws when I have to wrangle him away from the edge. I can almost understand how my Father felt when I was a boy and he would paddle my bottom. The boy is like a fish the way he enjoys the water! Even bathtime seems to be his favorite part about bedtime.

It was a struggle to get him out of his crib and into a real bed but we needed to complete the transition before our new little one arrives. With Beth here to teach us patience, I can proudly declare we have finally succeeded.

Sincerely, Lawrence

Dear Marmee,

We're approaching our due date rather quickly, a little under 3 months now. Millie has been staying with Louise for the Winter (and giving her free cooking lessons) after agreeing to stay and help Winifred deliver the baby, which I'm thankful for. I know this is a huge relief for Winifred. Her last delivery was not without complications and I know she grows uneasy the closer we get.

I know Winifred believes the baby will be a girl but I have my own suspicions we will welcome another son. I'm not wholly certain I could handle another little girl after we lost Flora. Not yet, rather. The pain of losing a child never truly leaves, does it?

I did not mean to ignore your inquiry over how I'm fairing. I must keep a courageous face for my family, and consequently I've grown used to wearing my mask of gallantry. Since you so kindly asked though, I will admit that I am a little worn down as of late.

I spend long hours tending the farm and go to work even longer hours in the pub. Valerie, good hearted as she is, is not the best co-worker, often drinking herself stupid before the nights out. I suppose it's true what they say about you Irish folk.

Most of my trouble comes from myself, I suppose. I watched my father save this very farm many times over and I should want to do the same. But with every plant that refused to sprout, I found myself resentful over having ever inherited it.

I think of my wife, the writer, the poet, and how she is able to read Ozzy her stories. I think of Jackson with his pub, and his son, Patrick, who's becoming a doctor, and you with your bookshop. Even my father who provided my mother and I with food, and a roof over our heads because he cared for the farm so tenderly. All of you, with such passion.

Even if I was as passionate as my father, the farming industry is changing. All these extravagant advancements are putting farmers out of work all over. If the farm were to go under, what would I do? It's all I've ever known.

If I don't have time to write before Christmas Day - I hope you have a Merry Christmas. Send my love to your girls and wish them the same for me as well.

Sincerely, Lawrence

P.S. Don't be cross with me for the joke, I only say it in jest. The Irish could drink me under the table any day of the week and sing a merry tune whilst doing so which is rather remarkable.

next / previous / first

[elvirable]

Fast Lane | Chapter 1

[ Simon Riley x f!Reader ] | ao3 link

rating:explicit | word count: – | status: work in progress themes/tags: damsel in distress, protective Simon, smut, car chase scene, simon lowkey stalking you.. for a mission ofc, gun violence, loose plot ———————————————————————

Simon had never said a word to you, but he was beginning to know you. Only through the small details, of course. In other words: Simon “Ghost” Riley has kept a close eye on you for weeks now, waiting for the mission cue. Action ensues to rescue you, a thrilling car chase, and ends wrapped in hotel sheets.

- A/N: been so busy + under the weather lately to write anything else so i'm hoping this one from my drafts will suffice. first chap is short because i want to see interest; next two will be longer. appreciate all the support!

He knew your routine like the back of his calloused hand.

Mornings began with a stroll to the same café, whose oak walls were engulfed by arranged evergreen heartleaf. You would spend about two or three hours with your brows furrowed towards a laptop screen, hurriedly typing away between occasional sips from your coffee; the ice never failed to melt by the time you left. If the weather was pleasant, you’d lay up at the park always with a different book or continue down the street to peruse through the boutiques — you rarely had actually bought anything, though. And if you didn’t dine out with friends, the evenings would end with you curled on your couch to watch whatever piqued your interest that night. 

Simon had never said a word to you, but he was beginning to know you. Only through the small details, of course.

You always bought the same coffee order, even if the seasons turned bitter and cold. If you were preoccupied in thought, reading or otherwise, your nose would scrunch up slightly; and if you were really focused, your delicate hand would rise to rest a curled finger against your lips. There was the same strand of hair that’d slip from behind your ear no matter how many times you tucked it back. He had also noticed quite early on the lonesome pout that glossed over you when your face was at rest, settling into the demeanor as default. Each strand of hair, each curve of your face was like carved marble; an ethereal, timeless quality of beauty.

But it wasn’t his job to ogle . Of course it wasn’t a chore to see a face like yours for a month now, but he had been waiting. A cue would crackle over his earpiece, and he would be ready to move.

Heavy-lidded eyes flickered over from the small luncheon across the street. Remnants of a sandwich were left on an ceramic plate, adjacent to a still-warm black tea.

Like clockwork, here you were today  — tugging open the glass café door. You shuffled onto the line at the register, soon taking your coffee to a street-facing counter. Simon’s dark eyes lingered on your fingers, now beginning to move with grace across the keyboard.

Although you had already begun your usual routine seamlessly, today already felt different. Perhaps it was your jittery manner, or the more professional attire you were donning compared to your usual comforts. A linen blouse and high-rise slacks suited your figure, hugging every curve just right. 

Simon’s suspicions were confirmed when you slid your laptop into your canvas bag earlier than usual, paused to fix your hair in reflection of your phone, and left the café. That was his cue to leave some money on the table to settle his bill, and he pushed down the street towards your direction. 

Your feet moved steadfast past the boutiques and crossed through the park towards uptown, where tall buildings dominated the skyline. Crowds were bustling on this side of town, moving according to the tides to the traffic lights; however, Simon never lost sight of your smaller frame weaving between people.

You soon arrived at your destination: a skyscraper crafted entirely of windows that shone like mirrors. The logo displayed high was generic, yet a name Simon was familiar with; it was highlighted in his case records for the current mission. He made a mental note as he settled at the bus stop across the street, his watchful eye never leaving yours.

You chatted briefly with the older women at the front desk, confirming an appointment by the expression lighting up your face. As she rose from her seat to escort you to the elevator and provide further directions, a crackle and hum filled Simon’s right ear.

“..message received. Over,” came Simon’s grunt of a whisper. He rose and left the bus stop as quickly as he had arrived.

[valorant-drabbles]

deadlock and gekko resolving their differences and maybe spending some fluffy sweet time together 🥺

I'm loving all the requests for the newer agents- we don't have enough Deadlock content. Allow me to fix that!

Odds & Ends

Gekko & Deadlock

Summary: It's no secret Deadlock has a certain distaste towards Gekko, ever since her arm was horrifically taken by a beast similar to the ones Gekko carries with him. But being on the same team, they're forced to work together frequently. One day, Gekko decides enough is enough; he's going to prove his buddies are harmless, and hopefully make some progress in befriending the Norwegian agent once and for all.

Warnings: None

Killjoy & Cypher cameo

Word Count: 1.8k

Within the Valorant Protocol, there were bound to be a few agents who'd butt heads over small things; who's turn it was in the training simulator, who gets to have the last dumpling... And although most debacles ended shortly after starting, there was the occasional dilemma that not even Brimstone could sort out.

Cypher and Sova not getting along, Brimstone and Breach having tension... at least the troublesome agents could be civil during missions. Looking out for each other's backs, even if there's a fair amount of distrust or tension. Despite everyone's views and differences, at the end of the day, they were a team. They had to get along, for the future of their world.

And although every new agent recruited is bound to have their own share of baggage... It's fair to say that Deadlock held one of the strongest grudges in the Protocol. Can anyone blame her?

After losing her team and her arm to a terrifying beast during a mission gone-wrong, Deadlock had her fair share of struggles fitting in. She found it hard to connect with anybody around her on a deep level, out of fear of losing them as she lost her last team. Though time and patience has proven vital in her adaptation to the Protocol, it was clear she still held a great grudge towards one particular agent.

Gekko.

Despite his best efforts to get along with his fellow agents, he wasn't immune to the threatening aura Deadlock gave off whenever her eyes landed on his little buddies. She refused to call them by their given names, only muttering a cold, bitter; "... radivores." under her breath as she passed by. Ever the pacifist when it comes to internal issues, Gekko did his best to be patient and slowly earn Deadlock's trust. If she could learn to trust him, she could surely learn to trust his buddies!

So there he sat, in the commons room, Dizzy sleeping on his lap as his hand mindlessly pet the top of the little creature's head. His eyes scanning over the words on his phone; advice on 'how to conquer your fears' from various sources. He figured that Deadlock's behavior towards his pets were out of fear, less out of a bloodthirsty hostility.

"... You know, being afraid of Scandinavians is an odd fear, but I can't say I blame you." Cypher's voice caused Gekko to nearly leap off the couch; if it wasn't for Dizzy's sleepy self on his lap, that was. He pressed a relieved hand to his chest and exhaled heavily.

"You know that's not what I'm doing this for." Gekko shot a look behind himself, seeing Cypher leaning against the back of the couch, cup of tea in his hands tenderly. The broker chuckled to himself in amusement, always finding some form of entertainment in pestering the younger agents. "I do know. I also know you looked up 'Scandinavian meals' last week. And 'how to comfort a female co-worker without coming across as weird'. Oh, and lets not forget 'how to-'"

"Cypher!" The younger male's hand shot forward, instinctively trying to cover Cypher's mouth, only for his hand to be caught. The information broker couldn't help but snicker; Gekko just knew this bastard had a huge smirk on his face, despite not being able to see his face. He pulled his hand back and felt his cheeks heat up. Of course Cypher knew what he'd been looking into. It was his job to keep tabs on this sort of stuff.

"If you know what I'm trying to do, then maybe you could help me instead of... whatever the heck you're trying to accomplish right now?" The green haired lad raised an eyebrow, quietly hoping that Cypher might actually provide some assistance; but alas, the man simply shook his head. "You know I'm no good at that. If I was, Sova could actually stand being in the same room as me for longer than five minutes."

A quiet groan escaped Gekko, as he rubbed his face with his hands, head resting against the back of the couch, eyes glued to the ceiling, as if the ceiling held all the answers to his dilemma. "Then what am I supposed to do? How can I get her to see what I see?..." His gaze had slowly moved down to Dizzy, who'd woken up by then at the mild commotion Gekko had caused when scolding Cypher. Seriously, how could anybody see Dizzy as a terrifying monster...? She was so sweet...

"That, my friend, you will have to figure out on your own. I doubt she'll be convinced by a simple showcase." Cypher pat the top of Gekko's head before turning to leave, cup of tea still in tow.

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

"Gekko, to your left!" Deadlock shouted out, a bullet rapidly firing from her gun to strike the bot that had been approaching Gekko. "Gracias, Deadlock!" He'd shouted back, the sound of his footsteps being drowned out by the firing happening elsewhere in the training grounds. He ducked down behind a wall, the lights dimming to a deep red, causing him to swallow. They'd been shoved into the training grounds without much warning by Killjoy, who insisted they test out her newest upgrades to the bots. And they were proving to be quite difficult, and relentless.

It was clear both agents were getting exhausted, as they'd been at this for what felt like ages; though it was closer to two hours. All they had to do was get to the end of the room and take out the final bot; but with all the other turrets firing, they'd barely had any time to progress. And every time that damn red light went off, it meant any damaged or broken bots were being replaced.

"How the hell are we supposed to progress?" Deadlock asked herself, head leaned back against the wall her back was pressed against, out of breath.

"I told you, if you'll just let me throw out Dizzy, we can blind them and-"

"No, I don't trust that little monster." Deadlock sneered, as she reloaded her gun- though she was very low on ammo at that point. They'd worn out almost all the guns that had been placed in the room beforehand. "Just let me think. I'm sure my tech can... figure something out."

"You can only do so much on your own, amiga. And at this rate, we're gonna get our asses kicked while Killjoy and Brim are watching. I dunno about you, but I'd like to avoid that." Gekko shot back with a hint of attitude, as a familiar blue orb flung from his belt into his hand. Deadlock's eyes narrowed. "Don't you dare, Mateo-"

So threatened by the mere idea of releasing Dizzy onto the field, Deadlock failed to notice the bot that had snuck by her sensor, and was aimed right behind her.

Gekko's eyes narrowed. Instinctively, he tossed up Dizzy, whilst grabbing Mosh from his belt, and chucking it directly at Deadlock- or, that's at least how Deadlock saw it.

It all felt like time slowed down.

She'd flinched and shielded herself, expecting to get... mauled or blown up by the little green creature, eyes screwed shut as she braced for impact-

Until she heard a bot explode behind her. Her eyes shot open as she looked behind her, seeing Moshpit staring at her, clearly happy that it'd managed to keep her safe. She simply stared in confusion, before she heard Dizzy floating above her, blinding the bots with the goo it released. Dizzy happened to land right in Deadlock's hands, her little tag wagging proudly.

It reminded her of a puppy.

"Deadlock- Wingman stunned a path out!" Gekko called out to catch the Norwegian's attention, as she peeked out behind the wall to see several bots disoriented, some still being blinded as well. Pulling out her phantom, she fired with reckless abandon at any bots in their way- revealing the final bot.

"Alright..." Deadlock stepped out from behind the wall, aiming her arm towards the clear path made for her.

"My territory, My rules!"

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

The two exhausted agents had managed to pull themselves out of the training simulator with minimal injury. Killjoy was very quick to thank them for helping with the experiment, handing each of them a lollipop as thanks, before she'd retreated to her lab. Especially since Deadlock had been glaring at her. Two hours of testing the damn bots, and all she gets is a piece of candy?

Gekko, on the other hand, despite his own exhaustion, thanked KJ for the opportunity to test her work, and popped the lollipop into his mouth.

"Sooo... Maybe my little buddies can be helpful after all?" Gekko had piped up once silence had settled between them, the two agents walking together towards their lockers to put their util away. Deadlock kept quiet, as she fidgeted with her sensor in her hand.

"They were... less destructive than expected." Deadlock muttered, throwing open her own locker, placing her tech inside. "I suppose I can see how they'd be beneficial in an actual fight..."

"Just a shame you didn't get to see Thrash in action-"

"No, I'm quite glad I didn't see that. Thrash is arguably your most dangerous creature." Deadlock corrected, closing her locker- only to be met with the sparkling, excited gaze of Gekko.

"... What?"

"You just called Thrash by her name.. instead of calling her a monster~" Gekko cooed in a teasing tone. Deadlock's face quickly grew red as she stepped back, quickly averting her gaze from him.

"I-- It was just a slip of the tongue, that's all." Deadlock stammered.

"You also called her a creature instead of a monster!"

"Will you be quiet?!" Deadlock hissed, though it was hard to be intimidated by the Steel Hunter while an embarrassed mess. She turned on her heel, making an effort to escape the conversation before Gekko could spew more nonesense.

But Gekko simply tailed behind her with a grin. "Okay, Okay- but you saw most of them in action today. Which one's your favourite, huh?" He urged. He was treading very dangerous ground, truthfully-

"... Dizzy. Her behavior... reminds me of the halden hounds from my home country..."

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

"You really asked those two to test your new bots...? You know they don't get along." Cypher questioned with a raised eyebrow, his glowing blue eyes boring into Killjoy's sheepish smile as the two of them entered the commons room.

"Right! And nothing brings enemies closer to becoming friends like a near-death experience in a fight! Though it was a simulation..." Killjoy attempted to defend her actions, though her train of thought was immediately cut short as she stopped in her tracks, hand shooting over to stop Cypher from progressing forward as well.

The Moroccan did indeed stop, confused. Following Killjoy's gaze until it landed on the couch.

On the couch, to their surprise... was Gekko and Deadlock, asleep, Gekko's head rested on the Norwegian's shoulder... surrounded by Thrash, Dizzy, Wingman and Mosh, who were all comfortably snuggled up against Deadlock in one way or another.

"... Deadlock will murder you if you take a picture." Killjoy had slowly and quietly warned- only to hear the soft click of one of Cypher's many cameras.

"Doubtful. Perhaps I will print her a copy... Hmhmhm..."