#if I post enough snippets of this

[iwillkeepfighting]

Leo wakes up to the smell of shampoo, his face pressed into a soft head of hair, arms wrapped around a warm body with no shell. Casey, a dim memory suggests, and oh yeah, that was the name of their new human.

[amogus-real-not-clickbait]

part 1 of a little comic / art sequence that i've been working on! :D it's part tribute, part experimenting with brushes n colors and trying new thingz :]

| 1 | 2 | 3 | ... |

and thus continues my endless quest of spreading the carrot fics like a plague! if you've seen my art floating around you probs already figured that this au holds a very special place in my heart, forever and always!!

if you haven't heard of it, it's a fic series by @crowned-ladybug called carrot soup!! it made me wish i could speak colors and i need more people to share my struggle xd

go check it out if you're into sweet voice lore and qpr level gayness and just wanna feel warm and soft and warm (hurt/comfort my beloved) <333 there are some heavier themes cos everyone's traumatized but they're working through it! be sure to check the tags and stay safe! <3

[louroth]

You reach the table, where Y takes up a quarter of the seating space. Although he is tucked into the corner by the lace-clad window, he is not afraid to take up space, arms outstretched across the bench that spans your booth, a dreamy half-smile on his face. You slide in next to S, opposite Y, and covertly ask, “Did you drug him?” S laughs; a dozen bells, ringing. “Gods no. I gave him a stiff drink, and the band is setting up. He has always fancied live musicians.” Sure enough, there is a band tuning their instruments among the mingling crowd of the dance floor. Just in the middle of it, a carpet designates the space for a cello, drums, musicians. A microphone is tapped, reverberating with feedback; no one flinches. The volume is high enough around the bar already, but it settles the more organized the band becomes, barhand waving people off, shushing, handing drinks over with mirth coursing through every twitch and turn of their all-aware movements. Drink-tray carrying girls swirl through the crowd like leaves on a current, trilling, the occasional slosh of liquid gleaming in the warm glow of gas-lit fire. Deals pass between mumbling gentry at the back. Glasses clink. The perfume of oil permeates, near rancid.

There’s a whole world here.

A whole world.

[hijinks-n-lowjinks]

teaser for my itafushi fic…………. 👀

[wirlibirb]

@justashana @ct-cactus and whomever else ahha uhhhhhhhhhhh have this, i will be working more on it but irl is murdering me lmao so

music: "The Fine Print" by The Stupendium

edit: EUCK?? I SOMEHOW FORGOT TO MENTION THE POST IT'S REFERRING TO.

[eirenical]

New WiP, who dis?

OK, so I've been sitting on this plot bunny for a while, and it finally got big enough to start jumping on my head with this last rewatch. One thing I've noticed about how Jiao Liqiao and those around her speak of her heritage, it always seemed to me like she was not just descended from Nanyin royalty, but somehow raised as Nanyin royalty, either by a secret enclave of Nanyin royalists... or because she is significantly older than she looks. I went with option 2. ^_~

Enjoy? ^_^

*

The End

*

"Xuan-tangjie!  Xuan-tangjie!!  You can't go.  You can't.  If you go, we'll never see each other again!"

Princess Longxuan turned away from her mirror to catch the child running at full tilt towards her from the door.  She was forever getting away from her minders and none had been hired yet who could effectively corral her.  Since her mother had died, Princess Longxuan was the only one she would listen to.  Longxuan pulled the girl up into her lap, gently rocking her and dabbing at her tears.  "Qiao-er, my Qiao-er, you mustn't think that way.  Our two countries are to be allies.  There will be visits of state.  You will one day marry, perhaps to a noble of Great Xi and we might live together once more.  You never know what may happen in the future."

Longxuan sat holding her young cousin until well after dark.  When she eventually calmed, they talked over other things, gentler things: Qiao-er's new dress, her maid's newest son, born with hair white as snow, what she was learning from her tutors, anything to take her mind off of their upcoming separation.  When she finally fell into an overtired slumber, Longxuan returned her to her rooms and tucked her into bed.  By the next night, Princess Longxuan of Nanyin had become Consort Xuan of Great Xi… and Nanyin was no more.

Qiao-er had been more right in her fears than she knew.

They never saw one another again.

*

The Middle

*

"Xue-gong… I need more time.  I know my cousin.  Xuan-tangjie wouldn't have gone to her death without a plan in place for her child.  I know he's out there somewhere.  I Just have to find him!"

Xue-gong clenched his fist at his side.  His parents had served his mistress until an unexpected bandit raid ended their lives when he was ten years old.  They had never been warriors, never trained to fight.  They never stood a chance.  It had been just he and the princess ever since… until several years later when they'd caught wind of others. 

Servants who had escaped the palace before the army of Great Xi tore it down and slaughtered all inside.  Peasants, nobles even, who had fled across the border, carrying all they dared of their heritage with them, knowing that every word of Nanyin script might give them away.  They'd found many on their journeys, none who recognized the princess for who she was.  Though this frustrated her ambitions, Xue-gong could not help but be grateful.  After all, the more known it was that a princess of Nanyin had survived its destruction… the more likely it would be that she would not survive another day more.  He would not have that.  He would not have the princess' death on his conscience.  No matter how it might anger her to sleep in barns, to hide in rags, to force her tongue to the speech of Great Xi until her native accent was not even a memory.  It would all be worth it if she survived.

"Your Grace, I suggest patience.  To seek recklessly after the prince could be to reveal his presence to those who would do him harm… as well as your own."

The princess threw her hand in the air and waved him silent.  "Bah!  Patience.  Caution.  That's all you ever council.  You would have me hide among the filth until I'm old and grey-haired and too dull-witted to care about the destruction of my homeland."  She began to pace, chewing at the ragged edge of a fingernail that had split just the other day and caused a tantrum the likes of which Xue-gong had been sure would bring the authorities down on their heads.  "It's all about time, isn't it?  Revolutions take time.  Resources.  Allies.  I just need more of the first, so I'll have time to collect the rest."

She turned back to Xue-gong, tapping her fingernail against her chin as her smile widened.  "There have always been stories of people cultivating to immortality.  I don't need immortality, I just need a bit more time.  To hold my youth for a bit longer.  I will find what I need, if I have enough time.  And you will find a way to get me the time I need."

Xue-gong bowed deeply.  What was one more impossible task among the hundreds he'd already fulfilled?  If his princess wanted more time, then surely there would be a way to get it for her.  He just had to find it.

*

The Beginning

*

"You Grace.  You know I will serve you until the day that I die, and beyond that, if I can find a way, but you are playing with fire, and I must caution you—"

"Caution again, Xue-gong?  When we are so close to achieving everything we desire?  What do I tell our people if we back down now?  We have the Rama Vessel.  We have the ice shards.  Shan Gudao has an army ready to take down the demons who stole our land, and Zunshang if finally within my grasp!  Why would you possibly urge caution now?"

"Because Xue-po is gone and she served you well for over 60 years.  Because Zunshang may seem broken and defeated but the look in his eyes screams otherwise.  Because Shan Gudao is not your cousin's long-lost heir and you know that as well as I do.   Because so many of our people are counting on you to build them a new home.  Because you and I have all the time in the world if we wish it and this is not a race, especially if the cost of winning is to lose everything else."

The princess turned, a stubborn look on her face that Xue-gong well recognized.  But even as he watched, that face relaxed, the stubbornness faded.  She took a deep breath.  "As always, there is wisdom in what you say, Xue-gong.  We will think.  We will make plans.  We will bide our time once more if necessary.  We will need an exit strategy."

Xue-gong bowed deeply, relief flooding his veins.  "As you command, Princess."

*

Xue-gong stood in the shadows, safely dead in the eyes of their enemies, as was his mistress… and he hardly believed what he saw.  The Mother Bug… gone.  That could mean only one thing.  He turned to find his princess' eyes just as wide and horrified as his own.

"Li Xiangyi… Li Xiangyi…?  Li Xiangyi is…"  She whirled away, stalking off into the shadows, her voice rising further in disbelief with every step she took, with every bound of qinggong that carried her away from the site of Shan Gudao's defeat.  When they finally stopped, coming to ground near the newest safehouse they'd established, she grabbed Xue-Gong's lapels and shook him hard enough to rattle his teeth.  He let her.

"How can Li Xiangyi be Xuan-tangjie's lost heir?  How?  How is this possible?  He's so… he's so…!"  At this, she ran out of words and simply screamed, pushing Xue-gong away as she began to pace the courtyard.

He waited until she slowed, her breathing ragged, her limbs trembling, before approaching once more.  He put a gentle hand on her shoulder, pulling until she turned and buried her face in his chest, wailing quietly into his robes.  "He stole Zunshang from me!"

Xue-gong held her, softly stroking her hair and down her back, soothing the tears that she seemed unable to stop.  When the storm finally eased, he took a step back, offering a handkerchief for the princess to dry her eyes.  As she did so, he tapped a finger under her chin… and smiled.

"Then won't it be incredibly satisfying for you to use him to steal Zunshang back… and achieve everything else you've ever wanted?"

The princess's mouth dropped open into a little 'o', her eyes widening at the playful tone of his voice.  She breathed out just one word: "How…?"

His smile widened.

"I'll show you."

*

[thestarfishface]

Something a little different, but I've been toying around with prose recently and wrote a little short story about Verity's old crew!

What's currently posted is the first half of a rough chapter idea I have planned- I gotta hash out exactly what I wanna do for the back half, but I think the first part stands okay on its own! Look out for a continuation in the future, though :>

[amethystpath-writes]

To Traitors

NOT A PR0MPT

******

"The general wants to send me to your homeland."

"For war?"

Villain hummed. "We knew it was coming."

"Of course." Hero shook her head and pushed a shirt further into the bucket of water. She bent it and twisted it and shoved it again. "How did she react when you told her 'no'?"

That was the thing; Villain didn't deny the general. No one denied the general.

Hero picked up on the silence. She always did. “Where does that leave us?”

A choice.

War?

Or her?

“You know this decision is not mine.”

"Sure, it is. I always wanted to travel- try camping."

Camping. Hero knew rejecting orders would be considered traitorous. She would rather be homeless and shunned than to standby while her homeland was being attacked.

"Hero..."

"Is that something you are not willing to do?" Her movements became rushed, like she was trying to maintain a calm, but the only way to do so was to move along with the emotions. She grabbed a shirt, dunked it, rung it, tossed it. Grab, dunk, ring. Grab, dunk, ring. They weren't even becoming clean, and the water needed changed. "My family is there. Where are they meant to go?"

"Even if I did tell the general no, I cannot stop an entire army from marching. The war will happen with or without me."

A sigh veiled the tension in the room. Villain's weight creaked beneath him as he stepped towards his lover. He took a linen shirt, wet and soaked, from her hands, and dropped it in the brown water. He found her hands next, then tugged her up slightly. She took the cue and stood, let herself be held.

"I love you," Villain said.

Hero didn't like crying. This is why Villain began rubbing her back as he pulled her into an embrace. She buried her face into his chest and sniffed once, twice...wiped a face full of tears, sniffed again...stopped, then began sobbing. No amount of squeezing could console the thought of her family being innocently slaughtered.

"You would hide them, wouldn't you? If you found them, you would save them?"

His grip loosened. He whispered, “Of course I would.” Did Hero know it might have been a lie? Even Villain wasn't sure what he would do when the time came that he marched onto her homeland.

"When do you leave?"

"Tomorrow."

"Then I'm leaving now." She attempted to pull away from Villain's chest, but he held her firmly. Her muscles tensed beneath him, but Villain knew she knew better than to try again.

"Hero, be level-headed.

"I want to warn them," she whispered, so quietly that Villain only knew what she said because of how well he knew her. He knew her every thought before she even had it herself. It wasn't magic; just love.

"And you think you will outrun an entire army overnight?"

"I know I won't!" her tone had changed, and this time when she pulled away, she didn't stop until Villain let her go. "But who am I to not try at all? Who would I be, Villain?" Her face was red and swollen, glistening with sad, then angry tears.

For a moment, she stopped. She took a breath. then swallowed as if she needed to stop herself from asking what obviously came to her mind. Alas, she said it. "How long have you known?" Her voice cracked, and Villain could see she already knew the answer: longer than he should have known before telling her.

"I'm sorry."

"I didn't ask for an apology." Her eyes refused to meet his. Villain was almost glad for it. He couldn't bear her anger, not when it was directed at him. "I asked how long you have known."

"Hero..."

"Clean your own damn clothes. I'll pay the Baker family back when I return."

"Pay them back? For w-" No. "You're not taking their horse." Hero was already scrounging around, first grabbing a raggedy sack, then stuffing one random item after another in. "Hero, stop. Hero-" She was going to take the neighbor's horse just to get caught up in the war herself. "Stop!"

She fell to her knees in the next moment. Broke down as if his voice took out the last support beam keeping the house together. hero cried, screamed, and wailed. "No. No. No. No. No," she repeated, and her voice broke time and time again as she screamed.

Tears sprung into Villain's eyes. What did he do?

"I'll send a bird. It will arrive before our army does, and when they receive it, they will know to leave."

Hero's head lifted, and her puffy eyes finally met Villain's glistening ones. "I will prepare beds. We have pelts; I can throw something together, and my brother can take-"

One blow after another, each and every passing moment. Just when Villain thought all might be well, the both of them realized there was no saving anyone. The war was an ambush, and Hero's brother would be expected to take a stand, to protect his own homeland.

"I won't-" Villain swallowed. "I won't harm your family. I will send the bird, and I will pray with every moment of travel that they receive it and leave. I will not draw my sword until I find their home empty, until I am sure they have left."

"You would be a traitor to your own kingdom."

"Better it this kingdom than you."

[mllekurtz]

i'm just. taking a break from work and thinking about the fact that it's been almost two years since the c2 finale and that campaign still has me in a chokehold. i still think about the wizards all the time, which shouldn't surprise anyone but it's still remarkable. just taking a little moment to be in my feelings about them on main, nothing to see here

[northern-passage]

i've compiled the harvest festival snippets that i shared on patreon back in 2021. it's getting cooler here and the leaves are just starting to change color, so i thought it would be fun to share :-) suspend some disbelief about the fantasy candied apples and enjoy!

Noel

“Hey.”

You blink up at Noel, standing in front of you, holding… two candied apples in xir hands. Xe thrusts one out to you, and you take it, still processing xir sudden appearance, scooting over a bit as xe drops down hard on the bench next to you, tapping his candied apple to yours in a little toast.

You turn the apple in your hand, holding it carefully by the stick, hot caramel slowly dripping down towards your gloved fingers. Noel has already started eating xirs, leaning back on the bench and watching the crowds walk by.

The harvest festival is in full swing, with smoke rising in the distance as dusk settles, the ceremonial bonfires igniting along the beach. You watch the dark smoke drift lazily overhead, glowing ominously with the sunset, light reflecting off the open water of the sea. It’s getting colder, now, too, with the setting sun, and you shiver, tightening your hand around your apple.

“Hey,” Noel says again, nudging you with xir knee.

You blink over at xem, raising an eyebrow.

“What’s up?” he asks, tilting xir head at you, and you can’t help but laugh, caramel smeared on xir chin. Xe pouts as you laugh, wiping the back of xir hand across xir mouth.

“You’re so mean to me,” Noel sighs dramatically, sinking farther back onto the bench.

“You don’t have to sit here with me, Noel,” you say then, staring down at the apple, feeling a bit guilty for dragging him away from the fun.

“I want to sit here with you,” he says, and you sigh, giving him a grateful smile.

The two of you fall back into silence, but Noel knocks xir knee against yours again, and you can feel xem watching you. And then xe slides closer, xir shoulder against yours, xir knee nudging yours yet again, your legs flush together.

You glance over at xem, flustered at the sudden closeness, though you’re grateful for the warmth of xem against you, and Noel smiles, hiding behind xir apple, xir eyes just peeking over the top of it.

“You wanna go?” Noel asks then, leaning even closer, nudging your shoulders together now, the smell of caramel and apple almost as sweet as xem.

“We just got here, Noel,” you say, hiding in your hood, feeling more guilty the longer the two of you sit here.

“Yeah… but I kinda want to leave. With you,” Noel is still hiding behind xir half-eaten apple, but you can hear the nervous smile in xir words, see the mischievous sparkle in xir eyes. “I know a good private spot on the beach, it won’t be as crowded, I bet. We could still see the bonfires… we can grab some more candied apples on the way.”

Noel puts a gentle hand on your leg then, a light touch, encouraging and comforting, and you lean into him, your face growing hot despite the cold evening air. He gives you a look that can only mean one thing.

“Well…,” you say slowly, leaning in close, pressing your lips to his ear and pausing for dramatic effect, “I guess to make up for being so mean to you…”

Noel laughs, the sound making your heart skip a few beats, and then he turns and gives you a candied apple kiss. You hum softly, your eyes fluttering close as you tilt your head and return the gesture, Noel's other arm wrapping around your waist and tucking you inside xir cloak.

Then he jumps up from the bench, pulling you up so quick that you and your candied apples knock together. Noel brushes a laughing kiss along your cheek, warm and sweet, and you let xem guide you along, just the two of you, wrapped in his cloak and laughing together as you go.

Clementine

You’re genuinely amazed at how long Clementine can dance - you’re certain it’s been hours now, and they’re still down on the beach, dancing amongst the bonfires. The rest of you have been meandering through the stalls up in the city, coming back down to the beach now that the sun has set, and you spot them dancing with a few others, near the central bonfire, where the music is being played. An older woman has been playing a hurdy-gurdy through the entire evening, the music carrying over the beach, audible even up in the city.

You suspect there’s some magic involved. But the music is getting more feverish now, more people coming down to dance, drinks and pipes being passed around as the night grows long.

The others wander off to try and find a good place to settle for the later festivities, while you wait for Clementine, trying to get their attention to let them know where you’re at.

Of course, that means waiting for them to take a break, which you honestly didn’t think they would - but luckily they happen to catch sight of you, and come running over, excited and breathless.

“Hi!” they shout, clasping their hands in front of them and bouncing on the balls of their feet.

“Hey, Clementine,” you say, leaning forward to be heard over the hurdy-gurdy.

“Are you here to dance with me?” they ask, grinning at you, still bouncing excitedly.

“Uh…,” you start, cringing a bit, but their excitement makes you hesitate. They look up at you with bright eyes, their head tilting slightly, . “I can’t dance, Clementine,” you finally say.

“It’s okay! We’ll go slow!” Clementine takes your hand then and pulls you over to the bonfire, the heat immediately making you sweat… or maybe it’s the nerves, glancing over your shoulder, afraid someone will be laughing at your sad attempt to dance.

But Clementine squeezes your hand, lacing your fingers together, and you turn back to them, peering up into your hood. They’re all smiles, probably the happiest you think you’ve seen them - well, ever. Their face is shiny in the firelight, sweaty with the effort of their dancing, and you give them a nod, letting them guide you through a few slow steps, careful not to step on their feet, which you realize are bare, their shoes kicked off and forgotten somewhere in the sand.

You’re terribly out of sync with the music, going in slow circles around the fire, while other dancers easily lap you, but after a while you stop noticing them - it’s just you and Clementine and the music. They move closer as you dance, squeezing your hand again, and resting their head against your chest, and you realize they’re humming, the sound reverberating through you, a different song that you feel rather than hear. Clementine lets you guide them now, their eyes closing, lazy dances all through the night, until the fires are nothing but ash.

Lea

Down on the beach, it’s shifting from late evening to early morning, with the sky growing light along the horizon above the sea. The stars are still visible, blinking up above, bright even through the smoke from the bonfires, even with the now-approaching sunrise.

Looking around, you wouldn’t even know the time, the way people are still celebrating and dancing and singing around the fires. You’ve seen a few harvest festivals in your time, and they typically go on for days, until the last of the fires burn out - but this is the first one you’ve really experienced as a participant, rather than someone just passing through.

Lea shifts beside you then, drawing your attention, the two of you seated beneath the little canopy you set up earlier in the night, a nest of blankets keeping you separated from the sand and warm against the ocean air.

Lea blinks sleepily, glancing at you before sitting up, rubbing their eyes.

“Where is everyone?” they ask, squinting against the nearby firelight.

You shrug, leaning back on the blankets, reaching over and offering Lea some of the spiced cider you had been sharing earlier, still hot thanks to the massive enchanted flagon.

Lea takes it and holds it in both hands, letting it warm them, slouching a bit before taking a long drink.

“You can go back to sleep,” you say, and Lea huffs, shaking their head.

“Sorry… I didn’t mean to fall asleep,” they say, frowning down at the drink in their hands. “If you want to find the others…”

Now you shake your head, dropping back onto the blankets. “Nah. This is nice,” you say, turning to look up at them. Lea gives you a dubious look, before taking another drink.

They set the flagon aside and wipe their mouth with the back of their hand, letting out a sigh.

“I guess this is kinda nice,” they say then, staring out at the distant waters.

“Relax for once, Lea,” you say, patting the blankets and spreading your arm out beside you.

They just roll their eyes, but after a moment they lay back on the blankets, wrapping themself up in them, before turning to look at you, side by side. They give you a small smile, uncertain, before moving closer - jerky, careful movements as they hesitantly rest their head on your arm, closing their eyes when you don’t pull away, letting out a long sigh. You instinctively tighten your arm around them, pulling them closer, and they let you, inhaling sharply at first and tensing before curling into you, tucking their head into your shoulder.

You look down at them, their eyes still closed, the furrow in their brow slowly easing out as their head grows heavier against you. You resist the urge to trace their features like this, instead just committing them to memory, before turning to stare up past the canopy and watch the stars slowly fade as the sun rises over the water, Lea sleeping contentedly in your arms.

Merry

The tavern is absolutely chaotic this evening with the start of the harvest festival, and you can barely even hear yourself think, with the music and the shouting and the loud sounds of plates and utensils clinking together, chairs scraping over the wooden floor, the constant opening and closing of the front door, and the cold wind whipping through, chilling you through your cloak.

You came back to Jack’s hoping to catch a break from all of the excitement, but it seems to be even worse here than down on the beach, more people in a smaller, confined space. You don’t even try to get to the stairs, instead just busting into Merry’s room and closing the door behind you, retreating across the room, heading for the windows.

It’s a little quieter in here, and you open the windows, hanging your head outside for a few minutes, breathing in the icy air. Eventually you wander back to Merry’s desk, and sit down in the large ornate chair, closing your eyes and running a hand over your face.

The sound of the door opening almost makes you jump out of the chair, but it’s just Merry, kicking the door closed behind her, carrying a drink in each hand.

“Mal told me she saw you run in here. Was worried you were going to pass out… or throw up on my floor,” she says, stopping in front of the desk and grinning down at you.

“I’m not drunk,” you say, indignant, crossing your arms over your chest.

“I know. I brought you regular cider though, just in case,” she laughs lightly, holding the two drinks up, and you can smell the hot cider even across the desk.

“Sorry I ran off. I got a little overwhelmed,” you say then, uncrossing your arms and fidgeting with your sleeves.

Merry just hums, coming around the desk now, and you blink up at her, expecting her to offer the drink - but instead she drops down in your lap, nearly knocking the wind out of you, the drinks sloshing in her hands.

“Merry-” you start, grabbing and steadying her as she just laughs, squirming around as she repositions herself, making you gasp a bit, your hands fumbling on her arm, her hip.

She smirks as she shifts to free her arm tucked against your chest, offering you the mug of cider now. You take it, giving her a look, but she just wraps her arm around your shoulders, taking a long drink from her own glass.

“This is more fun than all that mess out there, anyways,” she says, leaning over you, relaxing a bit in your lap, getting more comfortable and giving your shoulders a light squeeze. You can’t help but smile up at her, tilting your head a bit as she slowly pulls off your hood, trailing her fingers up the back of your neck, gentle touches across your shoulders again, drawing circles through the fabric of your cloak.

“You’re alright?” she asks then, her tone more serious, concern in the look she gives you.

“Yeah. I’m alright,” you say, holding her against you, letting her play with your hair, your hand steady on her leg draped across your lap as you sink into the chair, the two of you enjoying the distant music and glow of the bonfires down on the beach through the open windows, talking and laughing together through the night.

[ilovedthestars]

scratching at the walls of my brain. I WANNA POST SOMETHING NEW TO AO3. but that means I have to FINISH SOMETHING which is so harddd

[flickering-nightfall]

just asking, what if an iterator possibly gets too hot or cold? What happens if they can’t get to safer temps with out outside forces? What if they can’t get to safer temps at all?

Do you mean superstructures or puppet-bound iterators? I'm sure superstructures have a lot of failsafes to deal with temperature fluctuations, mostly via processing water intake. They're living saunas! They probably have an incredible resistance to both hot and cold, as evidence shows.

I'll talk about puppets here, but if you meant superstructures, well... a lot of what I'll say here could apply to superstructures too.

(For puppet-bound iterators, I am referring to my AU CDSS)

For heat: Puppet-bound iterators, like their former superstructure bodies, run hot and need to stay hydrated. They rely on liquid coolant that runs throughout their bodies. Ruptures in the coolant system are one of their many common problems, but with medical aid, they're not too serious. Many cases are self-healing, or the rupture will seal itself off and reroute around the blockage - like with collateral circulation. Leaks into essential systems are more of a concern than the actual loss of coolant. As long as they stay cool and drink water while waiting to get fixed, they tend to be fine.

If they are stuck in a hot region and can't escape, they'll suffer from dehydration, heat stroke, fried components, damage to organic tissue, seizures... pretty much what you'd expect. As a superstructure, Moon probably suffered from all this leading up to her collapse.

For cold: They're fairly resistant for a few reasons. One is the antifreeze in coolant. Another is the heat that they naturally produce. I'm thinking they have silicone-based skin, which is very cold resistant. They have hemocyanin, which tends to function better in extreme cold than hemoglobin. (Hemocyanin can also work at hotter temperatures. I have like a whole essay about this that I still intend to post lol.) However, the puppets have been modified to have more flexible and sensitive skin - dexterity in exchange for some durability. They're more susceptible to the perception of cold than they would be if they were a still a superstructure. Many of them also dislike snowscapes on principle, because they've been freezing their decaying metal butts off for centuries by the time CDSS happens.

Iterators in both forms are very moist, so if it's cold past their limits, their mechanical components will freeze. And like with hypothermia in fully organic beings, prolonged time in extreme cold will lead to tissue death and organ failure. Superstructures with fractured exteriors (direct exposure of internal parts to the cold air) are especially susceptible to this.

Misc theory about superstructures: Moon's superstructure was able to stay intact into Saint's era because she collapsed straight down into the water, preserving most of her shape. The canyon water could have provided the pressure and circulation she needed in the absence of gravity cores, as well as protection against land pests and insulation against the cold. Remnant slag could have her generate excess heat as well, which would keep the water surrounding her unfrozen. In a way, dying like that could have helped her live longer?!

Thanks for the question anon, this was very fun :P

[skitskatdacat63]

What is this love triangle 😵‍💫😵‍💫

[besthimbomachine]

I wanted to share at least one little piece of some of the changes being made/things being added, these prints are from ch 5, where they are driving in the car and a drunk reader has forgotten her stuff at the party, left the current version straight outta the blog, right is my updated doc. So far it has mostly been like this, no big rewrite just adding stuff and fixing other things, not very much looking forward to getting to ch 11, cause I didn't like that as much and I don't remember how salvageable it is

[presidentbungus]

“Looks like you got yourself in a pretty tough situation, man.” Scout cocks his head, lets his best smarmiest grin ooze down his face, and presses the barrel of his pistol just a little harder into Demo’s throat, and that single eye widens just enough to make Scout feel like the grim fucking reaper.

Maybe Engie’s right, about this whole torturing people to death thing—feels a lot better, too, to see that better-than-you goddamn grin wiped right off Demo’s face.

“Last words, pally? Grand statements?”

Demo pushes himself up on his palms, so Scout pushes the gun up a little more, leans in until their legs are on top of each other and he can smell the whiskey and cider coming off his breath. “Y- yeah. Good question.”

His brow narrows just a little, lip raising, and Scout watches his shoulder shift a little in his peripheral vision, but he’s just stuck staring into one dark fuckin’ eye, sucking air through his buckteeth, and something rattles in Demo’s hands as there’s a beep and about a thousand things explode behind Scout.

And then, god dammit, he looks away, turns where he is like a dumbass, and you never really get used to the feeling of a sword sliding right through all the mushy stuff between your ribs no matter how many times it happens.

“Never trust a drunk man with a sword.” Scout’s lungs feel like deflating balloons so he just kind of wheezes and looks up at Demo and tries to look mad, even though it’s hard to do that with some stupid asshole’s freakin’ sword through your guts. “Somebody’s probably said that before.”

Scout mouths, with a gigantic amount of effort considering his rapidly dimming vision: “You—friggin’—suck.”

“I know,” he mouths back, and if he doesn’t see it before he croaks, whenever Scout wakes up in the respawn all he can see when he closes his eyes is that sleazy fucking I-won grin burned into his goddamn retinas.

Then Snipes, on the bench across from him doing whatever he does with his rifle (probably about to make out with it), doesn’t say anything but he look says it well enough, and Scout spends a solid few seconds floundering before he realizes there’s probably a reason his face feels so hot and pulls his hat over his eyes.

And still that fucking grin, every time he shuts his eyes. His stupid fucking one-liner. I know. Oh, shit. God fucking dammit.

[corishadowfang]

19 and/or 32?

(For this)

19. What headcanon do you always include in your stories?

Answered that one here, haha, but for another one: poor Ephemer seems to be doomed to be a lethal chef in everything I write.

32. Which fic would you most like to write a sequel to?

Fallen Stars--though not in a "full-on sequel" sort of way. There's just a lot to explore after the story's over, from how the crew (and Scala) recovers, to how they rescue the Dandelions, to the ripple effects everything that happened had on canon, that it feels like something that'd be fun to explore--but because of HOW MUCH time there is to cover, it would probably work better as a bunch of one-shots or short series.