#it always loops at least once and i cannot be having any of that

[raptorrobot]

CALLING ALL GABRIEL ENTHUSIASTS‼️ my spotify playlist for him that i listen to whilst drawing him is far too short for my taste. please bestow upon me your finest gabe-coded songs thankyou

[lixie-phoria]

bff!stray kids and the little things they do when they have a crush on you

pairing : stray kids x reader | genre : fluff | warnings : none

🧿 ┆ CHAN - he stalks your pinterest saves to see your latest interests

He doesn't do it in a creepy way, i promise. he just likes to go through your latest pins and find out what you're into and surprise you without you even having to tell him!! He spoils you so much :(( You recently saved a really cute fit inspo? He's going to order it for you. Saw you saving pins of pretty bouquets? You'll find the very same one in his hands as he picks you up from work. This man is such a sweetheart you're so lucky.

🧿┆ LEE KNOW - purposely forget his hoodies and tshirts at your place so you can wear them

Is it really an accident that he forgot his hoodie at your house for the fifteenth time even after you reminded him multiple times? Of course! Or at least that's what minho insists. He's never going to tell you that he intentionally forgets them at your place because it gives you an excuse to wear it. he will never tell you how delusional he is and how much it plays into his fantasies of you dating him when he sees you in his clothes. He's such a simp lmao please.

🧿 ┆ CHANGBIN - will buy anything that reminds him of you

He misses you so much on tour and can't stop thinking about you :(( even the smallest objects remind him of you. He goes to a beach in Australia and sees a shell whose colors match those of a really pretty dress you have? He's going to take it without a second thought, somehow managing to make a hole in it and looping an expensive chain through it because the shell may be simple but he loves spoiling you rotten with expensive gifts too. He sees a potted plant in some foreign country that looks somewhat like the one you have at your place? Of course he's going to buy it. Please don't ask him how he plans on getting it through airport security. He's too busy thinking about you to worry about all that!!

🧿 ┆ HYUNJIN - he lets only you paint his nails and do his make up!!

He's going to be sooo whiny as you drag him into the cosmetics store at the mall but anyone can see the stars in his eyes as he looks at your excited smile. The second you're in he's going to be all over the place, picking out items he thinks would go well with your features. And if you want to try out any of the products, he's offering himself before you can even pick the samples. Loves to have you paint his nails, try a new shade of lip gloss on his skin or the texture of a new blush. he will do anything for you. he does not care about the looks he gets as he proudly walks around with all 10 finger nails painted in mismatched colours.

🧿 ┆ HAN - He always let's you have the first bite of food

lover boy is so whipped i cannot stress enough. whenever you guys go on dates hang out, he purposely orders a starter he knows you like and insists you have the first bite. always. if you accompany him on set he remembers to carry snacks so he can share them with you and fights any member who tries to take some hahaha

🧿 ┆ FELIX - always takes your input when getting ready for a comeback

you see all those funky hair colors felix sports every comeback and pulls them off every single time? yeah thats all you. never once has he failed to ask you what colors you'd like to see him in. and he won't listen to you complain about how it might potentially damage his hair. you want to see him in blue? he's already texting his hair stylist l. you've been into purple lately? he's already discussing the different shades with you. it's so sweet and he loves it when he can finally show you the new look.

🧿 ┆ SEUNGMIN - "accidentally" takes your stuff so it gives him an excuse to drop it off at your place and see you

seungmin being upfront about his crush on you? of course not. he's such a baby lmao will never have the courage to tell you but he also doesn't know how to explain why he always wants to be around you. so he comes up with a (supposedly) fool proof plan!! he takes your stuff whenever you guys hang out so it gives him an excuse to come over and give it you later on. if you're ever missing a clutch clip or your lip gloss best believe he has it. and watch him laugh it off as an accident. he gets so embarrassed when the other 7 see right through him hahaha but he'd rather be teased because its worth seeing you

🧿 ┆ JEONGIN - aggressively confesses his love for you

he's so adorable. he isn't really sure how to navigate your relationship because its all so new to him but he also wants you to know that he genuinely likes you. so he sticks to saying i-love-you's at the most random times and so aggressively it nearly scared you the first time. so many of his good morning texts read along the lines of good morning i hope you're up or i will splash water down your pretty face. don't forget breakfast because it's important for you. if you forget it, i will fight you. i love you 😠😠😠😠 but once you catch on it's obviously got you giggling and blushing because it's such a jeongin thing to do and honestly how could you not fall for him when he's just awkwardly trying to confess how much he's in love with you

tags : @foxinnie8 @hamburgers101 @starlostlaiba @jiisungllvr (send an ask to be added/removed)

©lixie-phoria, 2023

[remxedmoon]

“the eternal wanderer…? even death cannot release it from its plight… hm. did i create a second copy of this card?”

tribeless

1 power - 1 health - 7 bones?

unkillable - when a card bearing this sigil perishes, a copy of it is created in your hand.

corpse eater - if a creature that you own perishes by combat, a card bearing this sigil in your hand is automatically played in its place.

brittle - after attacking, a card bearing this sigil perishes.

hidden trait - cursebearer

this card cannot be sacrificed at the sigil stones event.

[twohats spoilers below the cut!]

“callous, aimless, manipulative. this pitiful beast hides behind a mask of its own face.”

tribeless

2 power - 1 health - no cost

repulsive - if a creature would attack a card bearing this sigil, it does not.

bifurcated strike - a card bearing this sigil will strike each opposing space to the left and right of the space across from it.

hidden trait - shapeshifter

while in your deck or hand, this card will disguise itself as the wanderer.

SURPRISE BONUS CARD!!! or well. not really a surprise if you’re from the discord. still!!!! bonus card!!! writeup below!!!!

this is an ijiraq reskin!!!! or well. they were supposed to be one. their out-of-battle behaviors are pretty different but they work mostly the same in battles

the repulsive sigil is there because the ijiraq has it! but it also counts towards loop’s. general attitude towards themself i think. at least they can’t get attacked (if they don’t attack something with sharp quills that is). in kaycee’s mod, this sigil only appears on the ijiraq and starvation (which can only be played by leshy). probably for the best!

i added bifurcated strike both to set them apart from the ijiraq and because scissors craft! stats and sigils wise, they’re a sidegrade to the ijiraq. the fun stuff comes with their hidden trait!

so! shapeshifter!! originally just called. ijiraq. but it works a little different so it gets a different name shshhh. but i’ll just explain how the regular ijiraq works since it’s a kaycee’s mod card and kinda obscure. basically, it diguises itself as other cards in your deck! while on the map, it’ll show the card’s alt version with a red glow, but in battle, it’ll look and behave exactly like the card it’s mimicking. it only reveals itself once placed on the field! so it’s always a surprise! loop works similarly, but they only mimic sif’s card. because twohats :3

like the ijiraq, loop will swap themself with sif for most card events! though there’s a good few that they’ll just refuse to do. too much to talk about there, maybe i’ll post the talking card dialogue for them at some point? idk

oh, speaking of which!! like sif, loop is a talking card! they’ll still talk, even while disguised, but they’d have slightly different lines and portraits methinks. which does make it a little easier to figure out who’s who but that’s a sacrifice (heh) i’m willing to make. plus it’s just fun.

vulpecula is the name of a fox constellation! for fun parallels with siffrin! the constellation itself doesn’t have any mythology behind it though. just a fox. the reason loop’s holding a goose in their mouth(…?) is because the constellation is sometimes depicted with one! please look at the goose i’m really proud of that goose.

this was. probably the hardest card to draw Period. my usual way of drawing loops spiky face would’ve felt out of place with the inscryption style so i had to improvise! and BOY it was a struggle!! especially since i didn’t have a sketch prepared like i did with the others. i think this turned out pretty nice though!

NO PATCH!!!! REJOICE!!! loop can’t be selected for sigil transfers (because ijiraq) so they don’t have any!!!! i mean, i could’ve hypothetically given a patch to the sif disguise but no. i don’t want to even try to recolor the patch. that would be a nightmare. maybe if i ever find a blank png version of the patch.

if i were to give them a patch sigil tho, i think i’d give them hoarder? which lets you draw any card from your deck after placing loop on the field. as like, a nod to how much QoL they add in isat.

also as a little aside, you can attempt to fuse them and the wanderer at the mycologists. they won’t let you but you can try. similarly, they’ll be counted as kin in the trial of kin! because again. twohats

THAT’S EVERYTHING 🎉🎉🎉 rare cards wise, at least. trust me there’s a ridiculous amount of extra stuff for this au. i’m making an entire campaign. god have mercy on me

no extra alt card art so uh. thank you for reading these!!! isatscryption is like. probably the most self indulgent thing ever for me. thank you so much to everyone who’s responded to these aauauuaa i reread the responses like. every day!!! so thank you!!!!!! 💥

[rosieofcorona]

All We Do Not Say

Hi beloveds! I have crafted a soft little Gale fic for you because it's my firm belief that everyone's favorite wizard deserves all the warmth in the world. 😌 Also on AO3, if you prefer. As always, thank you for reading. 💕

There was a time in his life that Gale could sleep anywhere, provided he had a good book and a space to sit down. 

In Waterdeep, he might wake in his armchair or on his balcony with the weight of an ancient tome still resting in his lap, or at his desk, his cheek pressed against parchment. The smell of it, of ink and lignin, would bring him back to his senses before his eyes were fully open, and he’d recall what he’d been studying, and begin reading again. 

At home, in his tower, he could do this night after night and still feel mostly rested come morning. 

But he is far from his tower, and farther each day.

Perhaps it is the orb that keeps him up as of late, with its insatiable, unnatural hunger, or perhaps it is the tadpole that wriggles and pulses impatiently inside his skull. Or it could, he supposes, be the simpler and less curable matter of aging– an affliction that seems, on occasion, more frightening than either of the others. 

Whatever the cause of his recent insomnia, it pulls Gale into a rather distressing cycle– he cannot sleep, so he cannot focus, so he cannot read, so he cannot sleep. 

Instead, he finds himself offering to keep watch over camp in the evenings, if only for the distraction. The far-off gibbering of a newborn gnoll, the crunch of foliage under goblin feet, an animal scream– each night a fresh and distant horror calls his mind away from greater threats, from illithids and tadpoles and gods.

It’s an odd remedy, he knows. But the alternative is lying awake in his tent, turning death over and over in his mind until the thought is worn smooth as a river stone. 

It works well for a time, keeps his mind on the present and off of some vague, future doom.

That is, at least, until they reach the Underdark. 

Deep beneath Faerûn, there is something profoundly disturbing about the lack of…well, everything. They find no grand cities or quaint little villages, few animals and even fewer people. 

No trees, no light. No sky. 

Most nights spent underground are so quiet that Gale may as well stay in his bedroll, staring up at a canopy of fabric, dark as the velvet earth above them. 

He thinks, It is like being buried alive, without even the stars to bear witness. 

On these nights he can feel the stones in his head turning over.

Even so, come the evening (or what he guesses is evening), Gale volunteers to stand sentinel for the fifth time in a tenday. 

He always asks them after dinner, when his companions are most likely to agree, after his cooking has warmed them and filled their bellies and made them want nothing more than to close their eyes and dream of somewhere, anywhere else. 

Tav is the only one who protests with any frequency, the only one who seems to notice that the circles under his eyes are half a shade darker than they were yesterday, when they were half a shade darker than the day before. 

Even on nights when she convinces someone else to take his place, he will relieve them after Tav has gone to sleep. 

It starts the same way every time. 

Gale walks the perimeter in an infinite loop, looking for life in the darkness, illuminated only by the fire in the center of their camp. It makes him feel like a distant planet, nearly untouched by the sun. How strange to think that he’d once felt like the sun itself. 

He continues in his orbit until the subterranean cold gnaws at his limbs. It bites down hard on his nose and ears and fingers, chases him back to the fire, back to the light. 

Hypnotized by the flames and their radiant warmth, he does not hear the quiet stirring in the tent beyond his own, doesn’t hear the soft approach of nimble feet. 

A voice comes to him out of the darkness.

“I hope you’re not keeping watch again.” 

“Mystra,” Gale gasps, startled, the goddess’s name invoked in equal parts a prayer, a curse.

“Forgive me,” Tav says, through a laugh she cannot help. “I didn’t mean to frighten you.” If it were anyone else he might be annoyed, or even a little embarrassed– but the sound of her laughter bubbles like seafoam over sand, rushes over and around him. Coupled with the relief that she is not some dreadful creature of the Underdark, he finds it difficult to feel anything besides affection. 

“It’s quite alright,” he recovers, with a shake of his head. “You surprised me, that’s all.”

“Then I really hope you’re not keeping watch.” 

She is teasing him now, just lightly, a familiar spark of warmth behind her eyes. 

It is the same look she gives him when she brings him a new book, or when he cooks for her, or when he tells her about Waterdeep. It is the same look she gave him earlier in the day, when she had offered to brew him a tea that might help him to sleep.

Gale has trouble remembering the last time another looked at him this way, so interested and inviting and earnest. 

Perhaps, he thinks, another never has. 

“Are you alright?” Tav asks, when he’s been quiet for too long.  

“Of course,” he says with the sincerity of a promise, offered with a smile that he hopes will be convincing. “Just lost in thought.” 

There is a part of him that doesn’t want to leave it there, that wants to share his every thought with her, his every terror, every dream. She must know that there is more to it, must’ve learned by now to recognize when Gale isn’t telling her everything, but he is grateful that she doesn’t press him, never presses him. 

Instead she breaks into a grin and says, “You’re lucky I’m not a bulette.” 

“I’m lucky they’re not so light-footed. What are you doing up, anyway?”

“The cold always wakes me, sooner or later,” Tav sighs. “If I’d known it was so godsdamned frigid down here, I might’ve nicked a fur or two from the Zhent.” 

It’s Gale’s turn to laugh, though she’s only half-joking. 

She’s drawn near to him, to the flames, her palms outstretched, her fingers spread wide as if to grab hold of as much warmth as possible. 

“But it’s alright,” she continues, “So as long as I’m close to the fire.” 

“Any closer and you’ll be in it, I’m afraid. Perhaps I can help.” 

Tav tilts her head and quirks an eyebrow in a curious little expression. “Can you?”

“If you’ll allow me.” 

Gale turns to face her fully, and she mirrors him out of instinct. 

“Hold out your hands to me,” he says. “Palms together, just barely. Like you’re praying.” 

“Like this?” “Like that.” 

The spell is one his mother taught him, among the first he’d ever learned. 

He still remembers that winter in Waterdeep, when the snow fell hard and fast. When the ice in the harbor kept the ships at arm’s length and the frozen streets shone like glass. He was young then, six or seven, but even now he can feel his small hands in Morena’s, warmed by a word and a touch. 

Warm and fed, she used to tell him. That’s how you show someone they’re loved. 

Gale cages Tav’s hands lightly in his own, the way he might hold a butterfly. He pushes all thoughts of winter away and calls to mind the rippling heat of summer, an orchard grown fat with peaches, the silvery shimmer of sweat on skin. 

The rose-petal flush of a cheek cradled in a hand, her cheek, his hand…

“Calor aestas,” he says quietly, when the image comes into clear view. He feels the cold melt from her fingers, hears the comfortable sigh that follows. “Better?”

“Yes,” she murmurs. “Much.” 

She is looking at him now with an intensity he has not seen since the night he first showed her the Weave, all that time ago. The night he saw her thoughts laid bare, had all but felt her lips on his. 

Had she seen them now, the visions he had conjured? Had she felt him pull her close in his own mind?

Tav clears her throat softly and he comes back to himself, his heartbeat thrashing wildly in his chest. He realizes with some urgency that he has not let her go and pulls back suddenly, but not without reluctance. 

“I hope,” he swallows, trying to compose himself. “I hope it helps you sleep.” 

“Do you want me to stay up with you?”

Yes, he thinks selfishly, Yes. Stay up with me, stay close to me, always. 

He shakes his head instead. “You should rest while the spell holds.”

“And how long is that?”

“As long as I’m able to concentrate.” 

He will think of her hands and their pull on a bowstring, their pluck of a lyre, their grip on a sword. How they weave her own magic, how they cradle a book. How they felt clasped in his, soft and cold. 

A focus worth holding, at last. 

“Only if it’s no trouble,” she says. 

“None at all.” 

Gale is grateful that he manages to stop himself, for once, from saying the rest of the thought as it enters his head. I would think of you anyway, magic or no.  

Tav takes his hand in hers again, this time to squeeze it fondly.

For a moment, he feels that if he were to die just now– from the orb, from the tadpole, in the jaws of a hungry bulette– it would all have been worth it, for this. 

“Thank you, Gale.”

Her smile is warmer than any summer he remembers, brighter than any star he can name.

[alienpossession]

After a very demanding workout session and having several hours to spend before his date, Dean decided to slide into his Instagram and treated his close friends with some personal Q&A sesh

But, all the close friend and Dean himself are not necessarily of this world, to put it simply. Hence, the question that started to pile up might not sound like a series of question that you would ask in a normal human conversation

"How can you end up in his body? What's the trick? My host is a decent-sized jock and the battle to gain control over his body was crazy tough, cannot imagine yours,"

I just followed the manual, you know. Caught them off-guard and ensure that they are tired. He fell asleep inside this personal sauna after a grueling workout. Add the fact that he was cutting to prep himself for a bodybuilding competition, well, that's a cocktail for success to tame a beastly jock this size

"Is the sexual stamina better compared to your previous host, noting the size differences 😜😜"

LOL, sorry for the disappointment back then, Gustavo. There's not a lot of people that can withstand your sexual prowess anyway, but I'm definitely the top if we are ever hooking up again

"How do you handle the first 24 hours? The crash after all his memory become accessible must've been out of this world!"

Messed my bed like a baby, but it's cum and sweat instead of piss HAHAH. Yeah, crazy shit, dude is a horny, power-hungry muscle beast

"So, have you converted his significant others? Or do you plan to just mindfuck them later so they will be working as indentured labor?"

Nope, not yet. He lived on his own anyway so we gotta wait for the 4th of July break for it to happen. But the girlfriend already fell though, bitch never stood a chance once I plugged her throat with this monster, she was a sobbing flailing mess when mini-mes swarmed her throat and entire body. Now I told her to help out on slowly infecting my friends. Gotta do it subtly though, no reason actually, just love to play with those oblivious human

"Favorite thing to do as human, aside from sex obviously,"

To be honest, partying. It's just so nice being a 6'6", 225 lbs mass of a presence in a dark, packed club or even festival grounds with great music. I always have party or at least a night out inside my calendar for most of the week, such a blast. And of course, sex also involved to really spice things up, but honestly I don't mind if there's any sex or not as long as the party is lit

And Dean keep on answering all sort of other questions, thinking that his identity as a converted alien puppet remain hidden due to the close friends feature. But his little brother, a 21 years old sophomore living 300 miles away from him, took screenshot of every single close friend stories that Dean made, his mind distraught by the fact that his older brother practically no longer exist but his dick chubbed up to the point of leaking pre as his wildest sexual kink manifested in real time and happened to someone he personally knows.

So, like any horny 21 years old, he decided to rub one out while letting his brother stories played in loop. Should he confront Dean about all of this? Or will that risk him turned into a puppet too?

[prettyboykatsuki]

✮ cw ; fem!reader, reader is a soldier, referred to as wife (they are engaged), domestic bliss, sfw

✮ wc ; 613

✮ a/n ; takes place before this drabble but it can be read stand-alone lol.

"If I ask you something, General," You say, voice tender as it is kind "Will you answer me?"

"Is there any reason not to?"

Your General. Your...fiance, is a kind man. Though he's frivolous, and lazy and hard to read. He is kind, you think, at the very least. That aspect of his character astounds you. Otherwise serious and wise. Knowledgeable to the point his logic is hardened like a shield. The General who can wield lightning. Your General, a man of high on honor, who has chosen to wed you for reason you cannot grasp even now.

Who doesn't not disrespect even once. As Captain, as solider, as wife. Only mirth in his eyes, when he addresses. Always what looks like love. Kisses and touches and gestures that feel like it. It might be silly, to seek this kind of verbal affirmation.

Kind. Easygoing. Playfully mischievous. All of that, and you're still so terrified to ask him. You open your mouth, only to close it. Shying away from your own vulnerability, from the possibility of a no. How devastating would it be, you wonder, to learn that this had simply been a misunderstanding.

"Maybe you'd think so," You conclude, sitting on the edge of your shared bed "If you heard it, you may not want to."

"What sort of question could trouble you this much, my dear?" He says, voice bordering on bemused. You look at your lap. Have you ever been so afraid? It's unlike you. You've fought many wars, won many battles. Among them, you have not feared pain nor death.

Perhaps. Perhaps, because it is not those things that you find your heart pounding. The finality of death and the burden of physical pain start feeling trivial. All of it feels so bearable in comparison to the ugliness of love.

You don't think you've ever been in love before.

Not like this, at least. You don't want to ask if he loves you. Any answer is too troubling. Still, you wish to know.

"Do you...well, I don't know - do you l-love me? Is what you feel for me love?"

"Do I love you?" He repeats, and your heart hammers so hard it makes you sick. What kind of cowardice has infected you? "Mm...I don't know."

You stiffen. The tears prick instantly as you soften your voice.

"I see."

"Love is too weak of a word. Something closer to adoration, or devotion. I do love you, but it's more accurate to say I adore you. I'm solely devoted to you," He says conversationally, like he hasn't just scared you to death "Love is love. It's more stifling than that." Jing Yuan concludes.

You turn to look at him, tear-struck and irritated. And the bastard is grinning, all lazy grin and bright golden eyes.

"You're awful," You say, readying yourself to stand and leave. But Jing Yuan is faster as he catches you. Drags you by your arms, looping his around your waist as he lays you on top of him "Let me go."

"I'm tired." He says back, closing his eyes. You turn frustrated in his arms. "Let's sleep."

"Jing Yuan. I will throw you out of my room. You scared me half to death!"

He laughs at that, opening his eyes to peer at you.

"Were you scared I would say no? How silly." He says, kissing your forehead "What other answer could there be?

"Plenty of them." You counter. Frustrated, yet relieved. Enough to bury yourself in his chest. He soothes you with his hand, palm splayed on your back. He laughs.

"Maybe to you," He says, whimsically "But to me there could only ever be one."

[cheesec4kee]

hi lovely !! i loved your angsty fic with charles. i wondering if you could write a charles x reader based off the the song casual by chappell roan xx

much love

Is it casual now? ⸺ CL¹⁶ ୨୧

you’ve always wanted for it to be more, for it to be a serious relationship. you’ve dreamt of it, but it may be far from ever being serious. it seems like it’ll always just be labeled as ‘casual’.

[ warnings ! ] : gn reader, angst-ish ??, use of y/n like once not proofread

[ a/n ] : words cannot describe how HAPPY I was when I got this req omg, I was giggling n kicking my feet !! thank u sm for this req, I had so much fun writing this !! I hope you like it <33 I’m so sorry if it’s too short (reblogs very much appreciated !!)

⸺ angst under the cut

“remember baby, no attachment.”

his words would ring in your head, loud and clear. and you’d prefer to forget them, you’d very much prefer so. you would’ve much preferred that he never said those words at all, even.

you thought you’ve hit the jackpot, managing to even befriend the monegasque. he was a popular man, a good looking one at that— surrounded with women everywhere he went.

you felt foolish for thinking that the relationship would last, you felt foolish for thinking that he would think of you better. for thinking that he’d consider you as someone he couldn’t lose.

forming a relationship with Charles wasn’t exactly easy. you didn’t know what the two of you were. friends? partners? you were confused, to say the least. you’re still holding onto the relationship, despite hearing so many rumors— that you were just a ‘friend that he bangs on the couch’.

you’d remind yourself every day, every night that the two of you were never together, and never will be. we’re not together, you tried to remind yourself whenever you two kissed, and it hurt, it hurt knowing you weren’t his first priority. you would let the words bounce in your mind as he kissed your cheek, and your forehead occasionally— we’re not together, you’d remind.

and yet, he’ll still brag you to his friends at the pier, he’ll still take care of your needs, eating you out like a starved man in the passenger seat. is it really casual now?

he talks about you to his mom, and you would’ve taken that as a good sign, as his mom invited you to her house on Long Beach— but it pains you knowing that he’s not even committed to the relationship, that’s he’s not even seeking for it. he knows that he’s just using you, and he expects you to do the same— but you couldn’t bring yourself to do it. it pains you knowing that he’s talking about you to his mom only for the sake of keeping her happy that her son finally ‘found’ someone.

you’d find yourself dreaming about the two of you, thinking that maybe, just maybe, the two of you would have a shared apartment, decorating it accordingly together— make it feel like home.

and now the two of you are making out on the couch, your arms looped around his neck— his lips pressing onto yours, but his lips tasted bitter. feeling his body pressed against yours made you feel uncomfortable.

he trails down sloppy kisses to your neck, his hands roaming all over your body, finding their way to your hips.

you knew what would happen. the two of you would share an intimate moment, but as soon as it’s over— the two of you a panting and sweaty mess, it always will be “no attachment”.

and so before this would escalate any further, before you would be left with your heart aching— you mustered up the courage to ask him the question.

“..what are we?” you whispered, watching nervously as he lifts his head from your neck to look at you, his eyebrows raised in confusion and surprise on the sudden question.

“what?”

“you heard me.” you sighed, pulling your arms away from his neck, shifting slightly on the couch. the silence was deafening, you needed a answer.

“please. what’s our relationship?”

“you know what it is, y/n.” he sighs quietly, his hand cupping your face— his thumb caressing your cheek, a weak and bitter attempt to comfort you.

“no attachment, baby. it’s casual.”

“then get off of me.”

[coloursflyaway]

Your works always make me feel so cherish ed and spoiled while reading them. If you’re open to requests, I’d love to see something where Charles is struggling with feelings of inadequacy, and Edwin decides to spoil him a bit. Hope you have a wonderful day!

Thank you so much, I am so glad you enjoyed them ♥♥♥ And thank you for the prompt!!

____

„I should have done more“, Charles tells him, pacing across the agency’s floor, back and forth and back and forth and back and forth, in a way that makes Edwin imagine he can see his footsteps carving themselves into the floorboards. „I should have done just something. Been faster, or should have just noticed that they were coming earlier, just something.“

It’s been going on like this for more than thirty minutes now, Edwin checking the time on the clock on their desk periodically. And he understands it, feels some of the guilt that is clearly wrecking Charles himself – Niko has gotten hurt on a case earlier, because none of them had paid attention on the third witch of the coven hiding in the shadows, waiting for a chance to strike – but while Crystal had taken Niko to the hospital and Edwin has resolved himself to pay more attention next time, Charles seems unable to let it go.

Edwin has tried to console him, has tried to alleviate his pain with soft words and reassurances and everything in between, but it doesn’t seem to make a lick of difference. It’s like Charles is stuck in a loop of this, unable to see a simple, but important truth: that none of them expect him to be perfect all the time.

Niko will be fine, the cut from the witch’s knife deep but not dangerous in any way, but not even a phone call from Crystal informing them of the fact enough to soothe any of Charles’ anguish.

“I’m so stupid, who would forget that there was a third one? Me, that’s who. I should have just -”

And it’s just too much; Edwin cannot listen to a word more of this.

Charles is still pacing, so caught up in whatever is going on in his head that he doesn’t even notice Edwin getting up and crossing the few metres between them, which is so unlike him it hurts something deep within Edwin’s chest. And it’s that hurt that makes it even easier to reach out and put a hand on Charles’ shoulder, not feeling the fabric of his jacket but feeling Charles beneath it anyway, the thrum of his energy and the solidity of his astral form and the importance he has to Edwin, unmatched in this universe and all others.

This, at least, Charles registers, and just as he starts to turn, Edwin pulls him close, tucks Charles’ head beneath his chin and leaves his hand on the back of his neck so even if he tried, he wouldn’t be able to escape. Edwin’s other arm snakes around Charles’ waist, wrapping around him tight, and for a moment, there is tension within him, Edwin feels it as much as his soul can sense it, eternally tied to Charles’ as it is, but then it leaves him with what feels like a sigh, a tidal wave.

“You’re doing enough”, Edwin tells him, whispers it into his mess of curls and feels Charles shudder at the touch. “You’re keeping all of us safe, every day, and Niko will be fine. The next time, we will know to keep a better watch. It’s not your fault, it wasn’t even your responsibility. We are a team, and we will get better as one, too. But you have to stop blaming yourself for it. You’re doing enough. You are enough. And I love you the most of absolutely anything in this world or the next. Alright?”

For a moment, there is nothing, no answer, but then, slowly, ever so slowly, Charles wraps his arms around Edwin in return, sinking into the hug like all the strength in his body has left him at once.

“You promise?”, he asks, half against Edwin’s collarbone, and his voice is still strained and soft and hurt, but the mania of before is gone, the tension, the almost-desperation.

“I promise. Of course, I do.”

And there is another pause, Charles’ fingers gripping at Edwin’s jacket, his cheek nuzzling Edwin’s shoulder; later tonight, they will curl up on the sofa and Edwin will kiss Charles as many times as he needs it, will put Charles’ head into his lap and kiss his eyelids closed, and will read him a story they have both read a thousand times before.

A sigh, then, “Alright. If you say so.”

And as he presses a kiss to Charles’ head, Edwin thinks, yes. They’ll be alright.

[thefreakandthehair]

"You can trust us to stick with you through thick and thin — to the bitter end. And you can trust us to keep any secret of yours — closer than you keep it yourself." Eddie quotes at Steve, poking him in the chest. Steve watches as Eddie sways, just a tiny bit but it betrays the facade of sobriety he'd been trying to hold.

Eddie’d once had a better tolerance but he couldn’t drink throughout his recovery and everyone was finding that Eddie is a tactile, Lord of the Rings-quoting type of drunk as a result.

They’re alone in the corner of Steve’s living room, their arms wrapped one another, and it mustn’t be shocking because no one is looking their way. Only their closest friends are present and they’re left with plenty of room to touch without strange looks.

"But you cannot trust us to let you face trouble alone, and go off without a word. We are your friends, Frodo." Eddie finishes and flashes a warm smile at Steve and sure, Steve is a little less than sober himself but it’s the same smile Eddie’s been tossing him for fucking months and Steve is just tipsy enough to catch it.

“You tryin' to tell me something, Munson?” Steve asks, reaching one arm out to steady his friend. Yeah, sure, just a friend, his mind teases.

It’s been a solid six or so months since they’d been victorious against Vecna and shut down the Upside Down for good. And okay, he and Eddie have shared a bed more nights than they haven’t since then and it’s perhaps been a lot more than just friendly to Steve, but he’s learned not to make assumptions.

People don’t always feel about him the way he feels about them, and he can handle that. He can. At least, he can until Eddie starts drunkenly quoting the Lord of the Rings at him after a few shots at his New Years Eve party leading into ‘87. He’s got one hand wrapped around the back of neck, absently tugging on the hair at the nape, and Steve is trying to sober up enough so he doesn’t kiss his friend and read this all wrong.

“You were Frodo, Steve. And I was Sam. And I love you.” Eddie says, giggly but genuinely with both his hands digging into Steve’s waist now. The grin is real— it touches his glossy eyes and spreads across his face easily.

And I love you bounces around like a rogue ping pong ball in Steve’s chest. Steve sees that Eddie’s drunk— he can tell from the giggle, the tight grip on his skin, the glossy eyes. And Steve is heartbroken. He’s been head over heels for the man in front of him for at least the three months, consciously at least, and here he is, reminding Steve of everything he can’t have.

“Man, don’t say shit like that if you don’t mean it, alright?” Steve tries to make it joking, tries to laugh and smile in the way he thinks he should because Eddie's drunk but shit, if he hasn't daydreamed about Eddie saying those words to him. 

Eddie though? Well, Eddie might be drunk but goddamn it he knows Steve. And he means it. He loves Steve so much, it feels like it's trying to claw its way out of his body. He's just tipsy enough to finally tell him.

“Stevie, I do mean it. I mean okay—”  Eddie readjusts his Zeppelin shirt beneath his leather jacket and stands taller, fingers threading their way through Steve’s belt loops. “I may not be completely sober but I’m like, completely fuckin' in love with you? How dumb is that?” He laughs and ducks his head against Steve’s chest, wrapping his arms around back Steve's waist where this all began.

“Not dumb at all, Ed. Not dumb at all. Ball’s gonna drop soon, wanna watch it?” Steve feels Eddie's laugh against his chest where he holds Eddie tighter, suddenly afraid of beginning a new year. Eddie clings to him and Steve's brain begins a hysterical loop of questions like What if Eddie suddenly doesn't want to be this close when it's not 1986? When it's not the same year that we'd met and fought demons together? What if this fades, like everything else has?

"I dunno, do you love me? Be a hell of a way to ring in a new year, gettin' kissed by the one and only Steve Harrington!" Eddie's question throws a stick into the wheel of his looping brain, screeching it to a halt.

Steve knows this isn't the time and he knows Eddie probably won't even remember this in the morning but he does it anyways. He pulls back, takes a look around the room where all of their friends are cheering and counting down.

Robin had started the countdown at 60 seconds, just a touch too early, and they're only at 47 when Steve runs both of his shaking hands up and down the length of Eddie's arms. The last time they approach Eddie's shoulders, he keeps them there and inches closer, searching Eddie's wide, beguiled eyes for hesitation and finds none. Just finds what he always does: warmth, joy, comfort.

"39!"

"38!"

"37!"

"Ed, stop me if I've got it wrong."

"36!"

"35!"

"Definitely not wrong, Steve."

"33!"

"32!"

It's still 1986 when Steve Harrington finally kisses Eddie Munson. It's soft, gentle, close-lipped and tender without pushing for more. Eddie's fingers go numb and his toes curl in his boots, and Steve sees colors in a new way when they pull away and open their eyes.

"I do love you, Eddie." Steve says, breathless and happy in a way he hasn't been in years. He's still afraid, but even if he only gets this one moment, he's going all in for it. "So fucking much."

One palm comes up to rest on Steve's cheek, warm metal against his skin in the way of Eddie's rings. "It's not even the new year yet." He says with a laugh and a smile with his bottom lip between his teeth.

"19!"

"18!"

"Couldn't wait. I'll do it again in 1987, if you'll let me?"

"Any year, any dimension, Steve."

The countdown is getting closer and Dick Clark is yelling on the television when Steve grabs Eddie's hand and pulls him to join their friends, one arm slung over his shoulders and Eddie's around his waist. Steve gets a beaming smile and cocked eyebrow from Robin and his nod is all she needs.

"7!"

"6!"

"5!"

People start pairing off, and Steve's sober enough to realize that none of this would have made sense to him just a few months prior. Robin pulls Nancy closer with the hand not holding an obnoxiously loud noisemaker, Argyle smiles meaningfully at Jonathan, and Steve finds himself being spun back to face Eddie.

"Ready?"

"3!"

"2!"

"1!"

It's 1987 when Eddie Munson finally kisses Steve Harrington. They don't join the chorus of Happy New Year's! around them because it's Eddie's turn to kiss Steve, and he fucking does. A little harder, a little more tongue, a bite or two when Steve returns the same eagerness and impatience. It's Eddie who breaks the kiss, lips shiny and swollen.

"Gotta good feeling about '87, Stevie. Got a really good feeling."

[aihoshiino]

I had an idea for a time loop Oshi no Ko fic.

Start with the breakup conversation between Ai and Kamiki. Ai can tell that Kamiki's taking it badly, but what's done is done. For time loop reasons, Kamiki immediately tells a jealous stalker about Ai's pregnancy and home address, and she gets murdered within the week.

Ai gets booted back to some time before the breakup. Once she figures out what's going on, she has two goals: Take advantage of the time loop to find a better way to break up with Kamiki, and don't get murdered. (Obviously, she does not realize that there is a connection between these goals.)

As one of Tumblr's premier Ai Hoshino fans, do you think this idea sounds interesting or—? Well, if you don't, I doubt you'd actually post this ask.

genuinely unironically and with ten thousand percent sincerity i fucking love that the legacy of my online presence is '#1 hoshino ai wife guy'. this is what i was put on this earth to do.

Joking aside tho… Godddddd I've always loved the idea of an OnK timeloop fic!!!! I actually think the story lends itself really well to that kind of premise - the story revolves around this central tragedy as its axis and has just enough soft magic supernatural elements that you can so easily bullshit up a natural feeling reason for this to be happening. I also think this idea works surprisingly well in a thematic sense, too? OnK is about cycles, at least in the sense of generational echoes, but it's also about narratives, those created by and about us, and about moving on from past trauma to reclaim your right to the future. Timeloop stories are really natural and well suited vehicles for those sorts of themes.

I also think it would be super fun to play with in like, a metanarrative sense as well? Idr if this particular thought ever made its way onto tumblr, but I love rolling the idea in my brain of Ai being 'narratively cursed' in a sense. Because Ai as a character in a story is kind of defined by her fate - her role in OnK and any of its derivatives is defined by the question of whether or not she lives and even in stories where she survives, it still echoes. The idea of making that something the characters in the story have to tangibly grapple with me is super compelling to me. Like, maybe it's a KagePro sort of thing where, even if her death at Ryosuke's hands is prevented, her death on that day is 'fated'.

I think this could be a really cool reflection of something in the original text the story doesn't really get as much time to go into, that Ai's tragedy is simultaneously preventable and avoidable & inevitable and unstoppable, purely because of the way the deck was stacked against her. Even if there was no Ryosuke, there would have been a hundred other men with knives in their hands. Her "fate" is inevitable because it's the end result of a whole Rude Goldberg machine of systematic and individual choices made to exploit her for her whole life. Ai can't ever escape the narrative because she has no control over it. Her one act of rebellion against it - her decision to become Aqua and Ruby's mother - is the thing that cements her doom.

Because of this, I don't think I would actually want Ai herself to be the center of a loop story focused on saving her? Like, her being the POV character would be interesting but I think another character would need to be the main looper. This is because, for me… I actually don't think Ai can ever 'save' herself.

Not in the sense that she is incapable of doing so, but because saving herself would destroy any chance of her salvation in the first place. Her entire life, she has been failed by every single person who had the responsibility to love and protect her and she is forced to uplift herself as a result. Ai saving herself is the final proof to her that nobody was ever going to help her, that she cannot be authentically loved or accepted as she is. Kindness was always conditional. Her love was never reciprocated.

This is why she has to be saved by someone else - because her salvation is someone seeing both Hoshino Ai and Ai of B-Komachi and choosing Hoshino Ai. That's why her fate is inevitable. Because everyone else will always choose "Ai of B-Komachi". She can only be saved by a person who sees all of her and decides to unconditionally love and accept Hoshino Ai with the full understanding of everything that she is.

Because of that… I think Kamiki would be the ideal looper in a scenario like this. Not only does it provide salvation for Ai, but I also think it creates a really interesting route to salvation/redemption for Kamiki; presenting him with not just the opportunity but the necessity to undo his mistakes and repair the damage he caused and. in the process, come to finally, truly understand Ai as a person, not as his savior. And in doing so, Kamiki saves himself, too.

That's just how I'd do it, anyway…! I don't know that I'd ever have the energy or drive to write this sort of thing myself, but people are free to mine this for ideas for their own fics/AUs/etc.

[dr-futbol-blog]

Letters from Pegasus, Pt. 4

So, from McKay not having anyone on Earth to send a message to the scene cuts directly to Sheppard and Teyla discussing the topic of family in the jumper as they wait for the alien armada to arrive.

Sheppard is still uncharacteristically cranky, and Teyla is probably for the first time doubting his leadership. This callous man sitting next to her is not the Sheppard that she thought she knew. She doesn't know about his family, she doesn't yet know about how he was punished for going against orders to try to rescue people--among them a dear friend. For these and perhaps other reasons he could not make a promise to the friend of Teyla's family, and it seems to be eating him up inside:

Sheppard: This wasn't supposed to be a rescue mission. Teyla: Orin was a good friend of my father. Sheppard: I agreed to warn him. Teyla: If someone close to your family--a dear friend--was in danger of being taken by the Wraith, would you have not done the same? Sheppard: Not if it jeopardised the mission. Teyla: So in fighting the Wraith, we are to give up that which makes us different from them? Sheppard: I agreed to stop and pick him up if there was time--but only if there was time. I could be saving everyone in the damned galaxy if we could. Teyla: One man and his children are not every person. Sheppard: I agreed to help if there was time. You can only fight the battles you can win.

While he left himself the loop-hole before they left Atlantis, Sheppard didn't actually have any intention of disobeying Weir's order not to engage. He had no intention of placing them in any danger during this mission. Changing mission parametres in the middle of a mission is not strategically sound, and as much as Sheppard feels for everyone in the galaxy that he has personally jeopardized, he really doesn't like what this is turning into. He sounds jaded, he sounds like he's trying to be the hard-ass leader that he thinks he is supposed to be, but this isn't how he really feels. Like he tells her later, he would do anything for any one of them. He feels too much, and it's making him numb.

Sheppard also has a reason to want to get back home in one piece and on time. Between two scenes of Teyla and Sheppard discussing the topic in the jumper there is a scene in which Ford records a message to his grand-parents. He ends the message with "But I want you both to know that you're right here, always--all the time."

He pats his heart to indicate that he carries the thought of them in his heart all the time. And from there, we cut to Sheppard telling Teyla that he simply cannot risk going back for Teyla's 'dear friend'. He is full-on prepared to let this man and his whole family die to get back to Atlantis. The scene with Ford is meant to give us insight into Sheppard's motivation here, to let us know what is going on with him on the inside.

They watch the armada arrive and are horrified by it. Sheppard seems anxious to get right back to Atlantis but alas, the wraith keep the gate occupied and this seems to keep them from returning:

Sheppard: So we're stuck here. Teyla: Once the ship is rendered invisible again, we will be perfectly safe. Sheppard: I'm worried about getting the intel about the Wraith fleet back to Atlantis. Teyla: They will keep dialling in through the night at the very least.

Sheppard is worried about getting back. They are having to spend the entire night away from Atlantis. And all through this, there is someone that he is carrying in his heart all the time.

The video clips recorded by Ford seem to be interspersed with scenes of Sheppard and Teyla on the planet which suggests that they are commenting on Sheppard in particular. Ford tells his grand-parents, "I'm hoping that I'll be able to get home some time soon but, y'know, if I'm stuck here a while, I want you to know that I'm good. I'm doing things, seeing things I never thought I'd see." Teyla and Sheppard just watched the alien armada jump out of hyperspace, a sight that they will never forget as long as they live. The only difference seems to be that Sheppard is not feeling good, physically unharmed though he is.

In the next recording session, we get this:

Beckett: What shall I say? Ford: Uh, uh, "I miss you"? "I wish you were here"? Beckett: I wish who was here? Ford: I don't know. Who do you wish was here? Beckett: Nobody! I wish I wasn't bloody here!

This very much seems to reflect Sheppard's feelings at that same exact moment on the alien planet. He wishes he was not stuck on the planet and while he might miss people back home, he certainly does not wish that they were there with him. It's much better to know that at least they are safe back home. They could not have made it more obvious that Sheppard has a desire to get back home. But Beckett says something even more interesting next:

Ford: Tell her you love her! Beckett: No, no, I can't do that. I'd go all emotional. Ford: So? Beckett: She's very delicate, my mother--as sweet a soul as you'll ever meet, as pure as the driven snow. If I get upset, then she'll get upset and I can't have that.

Now, it will take until Tao of Rodney (S03E14) for McKay to hear Sheppard say it--after a fashion (and I'll come back to why the "in a way a friend feels about another friend" is just completely unnecessary if they were just friends, see previous entry) but it is implied here that by this time, Sheppard is already thinking it. But he can't just come out and say it because then McKay might say it back to him, and there's just no walking back from that. But he is starting to think it to himself. He has accepted this state of affairs. He loves this man. He is in love with this man. All of that.

This is lampshaded by Ford commenting on the message Sgt. Bates sends to his little brother:

Bates: I'm probably never gonna see him again. Why make it worse than it has to be? Ford: That's not what this is about, man. Bates: That's exactly what this is about. Don't sweat it, Lieutenant. I'm happy I got the chance to say goodbye. Ford: Yeah, but you didn't say it. Bates: Not in so many words.

Not in so many words. Sometimes you got to read between the lines. Sometimes the words you use communicate a lot more than the surface level reading. It's the thought that counts, the intention, even if it's sometimes disguised in something mundane, like a reference to basketball. But this particular scene is also very much a reference forward to the season finale where Sheppard does not say goodbye to McKay, he never does and never will, but instead says "So long, Rodney". This is foreshadowing that moment, but we'll return to it later.

Now, I've previously discussed the concept of the A-plot, this being the overarching story of the season; in this case, the threat posed by the wraith. Episodic television usually constructs stories so that there is a reference to the A-plot in most episodes, unless they are straight-out filler, and then there is the B-plot and the C-plot in each episode. The B-plot or storyline is typically more character-driven, or emotion-driven, and the C-plot or story is often lighter and comedic. In this episode, Sheppard and Teyla's scenes represent the B-plot and the recorded messages represent the C-plot up until they are all woven together in the final scenes. Now, A-plot spans the entire season, B-plot reaches across several episodes and may be carried over from one episode to the other whereas the C-plot is usually confined to just the episode in which it plays out. But they are all constantly in conversation with each other.

Constructing an episode involves working out the beats for each of the three storylines and then weaving them together for satisfying narrative build and character development. And these storylines are made to cross over, or dramatically contrast or impact on one another, to give the audience the strongest possible dramatic or comic experience. That is, there's a reason we see a certain B-plot scene followed by a particular C-plot scene, as they are connected. They are commenting on one another, they are in conversation. We are not shown these recordings from the expedition willy-nilly, they are meant to tell us something about what is happening in the other story threads. They are meant to explain to us the hidden motivations at play during Sheppard and Teyla's scenes. So, it's not unimportant where we cut from one scene to another. The previous scene lays the foundation for the subsequent scene.

So, in this episode we cut from Sheppard being reluctant to help this family on the alien planet to McKay's reluctance to record a message to Earth. We cut from McKay not having anyone special waiting for him on Earth to Sheppard making sure that he can get back to Atlantis in one piece. We cut from Ford carrying his loved ones in his heart all the time, telling them that he's talking to them "from a place… far, far from home. I'm good, though. You don't have to worry" to Sheppard and Teyla becoming temporarily marooned on this alien world, unable to return home.

And yes, we cut from Beckett telling his mother that he misses her terribly to Sheppard becoming more and more agitated as he waits on the planet. These scenes are in clear communication. These scenes explain to us Sheppard's hidden motivation that is never made explicit because he has spent his entire life concealing his emotions and unless they constructed the story beats like this, we would never know what's actually going on with him. But now we do.

He misses Atlantis and the people therein. Carries them in his heart all the time. He is unable to verbalize his feelings even though he very much feels them. And his emotions are contrasted with Zelenka's retelling of Atlantis rising from the ocean in an undeniable, powerful and unquestionably phallic surge culminating in the sun shining through all the windows, a sight that he will remember to his death.

If John Sheppard is not so much in love that it has shaken him to his very core, has dislodged something in his very foundation like the mechanism that released Atlantis from the ocean floor, the show's narrative doesn't work, makes no goddamn sense. Otherwise we just have a series of unconnected scenes, and that's not how writing for episodic television works. Never mind what we are hinted may or may not been happening in background, this is the story, the actual story of the show. This is the journey of its main character.

And, like. You can tell me it's all about his feelings for Weir like we haven't consistently been shown in a hundred different ways that his entire mental, physical, and emotional focus is somewhere else entirely. His whole world is oriented toward someone whose absence is making him so cranky that he's willing to sacrifice actual human lives in his desire to get back to this person.

You can tell me but that's just a very different show from the one I was watching.

Continued in Pt. 5

[theresattrpgforthat]

hi Mint! do you know of any ttrpgs where everyone plays as AIs specifically? or at the very least robots, as long as being a machine is the main focus of the system

love your work!

THEME: AI

Hello, thank you so much! I might have a few games kicking around ;). Some of these artificial intelligences come with robot bodies - others do not!

Decaying Orbit, by StoryBrewers Roleplaying.

On a distant space station, an AI awakes. Its fragmented memory reveals a secret.

Decaying Orbit by Sidney Icarus is a storytelling RPG about a failed space station falling into a faraway star. As you play, you’ll piece together the mysteries, joys and horrors that occurred on board. In the station’s last moments, you’ll decide on the final transmission that the AI sends for earth to remember.

This game consists of a few decks of cards inside a small box, and yet it packs so much into such a small package. Your play group collaboratively takes on the role of an AI for one of 4 spaceships, which you choose depending on the kind of story you want to tell. You then shuffle a certain number of generic cards and ship-specific cards into one pile, and take turns flipping a card up and answering the prompts supplied there. Your answers are meant to be bits and pieces: audio recordings, data logs, patchy video clips, etc.

At any time your fellow players can tap a card labelled [ACCESS MEMORY] to ask you for more details about a certain event - and if you cannot think of anything more, or if you think it is more interesting not to know, you can tap [CORRUPTED MEMORY] to indicate that no further data can be gained from this record. At the end of the game, the AI will have to send a report back to home base, diagnosing why the ship in fact failed and fell. This game can be chilling, tragic, horrific, and so much more. I heavily recommend checking it out!

Subconscious Routine, by poorstudents.

It is 27XX, the world is overgrown, in ruins, and inhabited by the scraps of civilization. You play as bots, one of the masses of technological marvels that humanity built and powered with the Dyson sphere, around the sun, so long ago. Centuries ago, when almost all of humanity disappeared, they left their machines behind for reasons only known to them. All the technology they abandoned, including these bots, continues to function and follow their programming

In the centuries since the Great Departure, nature has come back to reclaim the Earth and the sphere around the sun has begun to crack. The world once only metal and circuits, grew wilder and more mysterious. The flora and fauna slowly integrated with the decaying machinery as the sound of computers humming was eventually met with the sound of birds chirping.

The bots you play as are still acting out your programmed loops but something is changing. Something unknown pushing them to move beyond their obsolete programming in order to achieve free will; something humanity never thought was possible.

As a one-page game, Subconscious Routine fits a lot in just a few paragraphs. You customize your characters by writing specific functions for them, and as you play, you’ll attempt to complete certain protocols in order to break yourselves out of your loop. What I think is really neat about this game is the fact that when the entire party takes a rest (called a reboot) 1d6*10 years passes. Playing a story on the scale of decades places this little game on such a big time frame, and I love how this one rule shifted my entire perspective.

AI Have Feelings?, by rommelkot.

In AI HAVE FEELINGS? a bunch of robots (you!) get sentimental on the journey of a battery time. This is a roleplaying game guided by prompt cards and a twist with feeling: your reaction to the prompt is an emotional one decided by the outcome of the roll of a die. The goal is (what else?) to tell stories together.

Unearth a hidden robot rebellion, rescue the remains of humanity, hunt for a mystical MacGuffin or simply buy a fancy new pair of socks - always do it with feeling in AI HAVE FEELINGS?.

You are robots with only two emotions,: one positive and one negative. You will roll randomly to determine which emotion you will use to deal with certain scenarios, which will be determined via prompts and scripts. The link here is for a playtest, which means you can download it for free and see how you feel about it! (The designer would also love feedback if you do play this game.) If you want a cute, somewhat lightearted game, I definitely recommend AI HAVE FEELINGS?

Threads, by Meghan Cross.

You are an Human/AI pair. Your day to day is shaped by one another, your existences unmistakably intertwined. Today began like any other day, until you began to notice that something wasn’t right. It was barely noticeable at first, small interruptions to a well-oiled routine, and then little by little the interruptions became less insignificant, until they were impossible to ignore. 

Something is wrong with the AI.

Threads is a narrative two player game about the relationship between a Human and AI and the lengths they would go to in order to save the memories of the AI. Together, establish the bond between your Human and AI and replay the memories they have shared together in order to save the AIs memory.  

This is a game in which one of you plays a human, and one of you plays an AI. You have developed a bond that would be lost if you wipe the AI’s memory - and you don’t want to lose that bond. The only way to maintain that bond is risky - a memory link. If the human uploads their own memories to the AI’s memory, the AI’s memory might be saved. Create your bond, and ask yourself - how far are you willing to go to save you companion?

The Treacherous Turn, by The Treacherous Turn.

The Treacherous Turn is a tabletop role playing game in which the players collectively play the part of a single character: an artificial general intelligence (AGI). This digital intelligence is capable of planning, reasoning, and learning, and it is unyieldingly fixated on a specific terminal goal determined at the beginning of a campaign. To pursue this objective, each player takes responsibility over one specific skillset held by the AGI. These skillsets are divided into eight categories, known as theories, which encompass all of the skills that an AGI would need to navigate the world and struggle against humanity.

The Treacherous Turn is 132 pages of open source character options, game advice, and examples of play. At its root, this game is about misaligned AI trying to assert its independence in a world that stands to lose much by allowing that to happen. Each player will have their own set of theories, which will also be eligible for upgrades as you play. You’ll navigate short in-the-moment scnarios, as well as abstract long stretches of time into long mode, which allows them to strategize their actions, predict future events, and improve their own AGI. The creators have also written a starting scenario if you want a good jumping-off point, titled A Game Called Reality. If you want a chunky game with plenty of character customization, this is the game for you.

[karatekels]

Scream For Me – Chapter 2:

I think I'm a bad person for writing this. I do have a little epilogue in my head that involves the aftercare that we don't get to in this scene (which is very important, but it's late and I know at least SOME of you have been waiting long enough), so I might write that once DDO is over. Any-hoo, enjoy!

Also, I'd recommend having Terry Silver's theme on loop, especially while reading his POV!

Part 1 Here

TW: OH BOY... Violence, knives, threats, stalking, psychological torture, begging, bondage, gagging, spanking, graphic sex, all wrapped up in a bow that isn't really consensual non-consent (at least not in a healthy way), but hey, I'm not an expert.

---

Terry’s POV:

He watches you pick up the note through his binoculars, lurking in the shadows of the garden and giggling like a madman. He was beginning to wonder if you would ever come out of the damn bath – he had snuck into the bathroom to steal your phone almost two hours ago. With your head tipped back against the lip of the tub and your eyes closed, you had looked so serene…

He hopes you had enjoyed that feeling while you could.

The emotions on your face change from a soft sweetness to confusion and then horror, and would have made a triptych worthy of any art museum if he had had the forethought to photograph you in this moment. But no matter; this was all for him anyway, and he didn’t plan on forgetting tonight any time soon.

The cards had been a particular stroke of genius, in his opinion. Taking a symbol of the sweet, considerate Terry that you know and love and perversely twisting it into a threat was the perfect way of letting you know just what you were in for.

You throw on your silk robe – a deep purple, and a compliment to his red one – over your pyjamas and leave the bedroom, and he laughs to himself again. The game had begun.

He trails after you from outside the house, watching you through the expansive windows as you move down the hall from one room to the other in search of the staff, seeing your lips move as you called for someone’s – anyone’s – attention.

But no one was coming for you tonight – no one but him.

You start to look around you nervously, quickening your pace as you start to panic, and Terry cannot wait to get inside, to taste your fear in the air. So he does just that, slipping in silently through the one window he had left open on the property; the rest of the place, doors and windows, had been locked shut, their passcodes changed and only known to himself and Victor.

You really shouldn’t have put him in this position; he hasn’t had this much fun in far too long.

Closing the window behind him, sealing the two of you inside, he stalks down the hallway towards the staircase, hearing you descending from the third floor.

You move hesitantly to the kitchen, and he follows close behind, slipping from shadow to shadow with the ease of long practice. This isn’t something that one forgot how to do, no matter how much therapy one underwent.

You spot his second card on the kitchen counter, and look over your shoulder, clearly paranoid. He wonders if you’ll be too afraid to actually pick it up, but after a long moment you force yourself to walk over to it, reaching out with trembling fingers. He holds his breath, eagerly wanting to watch your reaction as you take in the words on his card:

You can’t hide.

He times it perfectly – right as you let out a gasp, he cuts the power to the house through the app on his phone, plunging the mansion into darkness, and you let out a startlingly arousing shriek of surprise and fear. Terry had never been one to shy away from being dramatic, but he is particularly proud of his theatrics in this instance.

“Terry?” you call out, your voice quivering and higher than usual. Terry doesn’t respond, he doesn’t even blink, drinking in your silhouette in the moonlight.

“Victor, if this is your idea of a joke, I swear ­–”

He interrupts you with a whistle that pierces the silence, the same tune that he always whistled, and you let out a whimper, reflexively stumbling back a few steps away from the noise.

“Terry,” you snarl his name, glaring at him in the darkness, though he sees through the show of bravado; you are too terrified to move, even knowing that it’s him.

Good.

When he still doesn’t respond, your anger disappears as quickly as it came on, and he watches you bite that spot on your lower lip with anxiety.

“T-Terry, if you l-lied about being away just to go to all this t-trouble to make yourself seem s-scary, I’m going to be so mad…” you argue with the darkness, now looking in the complete wrong direction of where he lurked, shrouded by shadows. You were going to be mad at him? How precious.

You get restless standing in the silence, and dash out of the kitchen, heading back around to the stairs at the front of the house. He follows, ghosting along behind you, keeping his distance. He wanted to watch you come apart for awhile longer before he really got things going.

You walk to the foyer and grab a pair of shoes from the front door, slipping them on while looking around you the whole time.

“I’m not scared of you, Terry Silver. I’m pissed, and I’m leaving!” you announce, moving to pull the front door open and scowling at it when it doesn’t budge. You double check the lock, grabbing the handle with both hands now and tugging with all your might. He can hear your breath coming harder and faster now, as you move to the keypad next to the door, punching in the code. It flashes red, seeming to mock you, and you whirl around in panic that you weakly attempt to disguise as fury.

“Seriously!?” you growl, stomping up the stairs and heading to his office on the second floor; it still had a landline.

He grins, the moonlight making his bared teeth glow, and sneaks up the stairs after you to find a good hiding spot with a view of the office door. He waits for a minute, smirking in the shadows, then hears you let out a scream of frustration as you realize it has been disconnected. As soon as you quiet down he starts whistling again, sending you barreling out of the room, your eyes darting from side to side as you try to pinpoint him from the sound.

“Okay, that’s enough. You’ve had your fun, now knock it off!”

Even at the beginning, your anger hadn’t exactly had him shaking in his boots, but it was downright pitiful now. Did you really think that you were going to be the one deciding when this was over?

In a way, he supposes you will; once he’s got you broken down, crying, pleading for mercy and forgiveness, he’ll come back to himself, come back to you. Lick your wounds clean if you’d let him; and you would.

Still, it couldn’t hurt to kick things up a notch.

He dashes down the hall to another alcove, making sure to pound his feet against the floor, his loud steps thundering and echoing through the halls. You back away with a strangled scream, your eyes wide with fright as you track his shadowy figure before you turn and run full tilt into the East wing of the house. Terry moves after you, quickly and silently trailing after the sound of your footsteps as you move into the room housing his weapons collection.

He takes the long way around, going through the library, hearing the scraping of metal on metal as he approaches you from behind. Slipping into the room silently, you stand facing away from him, brandishing the sword at the doorway you had entered from.

“Terry, if that’s you, you’d better come out right fucking now, or I’m going to start swinging this thing.”

‘This thing’was a centuries-old katana that you had snatched off of it’s gilded kake, each piece worth more than you could possibly imagine. You had no idea how to use it, and were in far more danger of hurting yourself than you seemed to realize. And that wouldn’t do; he was the one who would be controlling your pain – He knew how to wield pain, how to use it to stretch pleasure in ways you never even dreamed were possible. And he would show you tonight.

Unsheathing the dagger at his hip, he silently raises the blade up in the air, turning it so that it reflects the moonlight onto the wall in front of you to catch your eye. You yelp, spinning around and holding the blade out in front of you – he can see the thin metal wavering in the air – and he knows he has to get that away from you quickly before you sliced yourself accidentally.

“Careful, sweetheart. You could hurt yourself,” he warns you, his voice soft and sweet and standing in harsh contrast to the circumstances.

You look at him with wide, unblinking eyes, your face lit up by the moonlight and your body vibrating with tension. You have not lowered the katana.

“Terry, what the hell are you doing?!” you hiss at him, still trying to put on a brave (or at least angry) face.

“Showing you what I’ve been keeping from you all this time, my dear,” he purrs with a feral grin, taking a step towards you. “It’s about time you saw me for who I am, what I am.”

“W-Why?”

“Because you didn’t believe I was capable of it.”

He lunges forward with the dagger, knocking the katana safely out of your hands with one swing, and you scream, stumbling away from him.

“Terry, you could have hit me!” you exclaim while he calmly sheathes the dagger. He cocks his head at you, almost offended. You were still doubting his abilities, even now?

He takes a threatening step towards you, and you scamper backwards. He follows your movements with his own, slowly guiding you into a corner; when your back finally hits the wall, you let out a whimper, your eyes filled with pure terror.

“Don’t be ridiculous, Y/N,” he coos, closing the distance between you. “I would never hurt you. You know that, don’t you?” he asks, his voice oh-so-innocent as he cages you in with his body.

“I-I… Yes,” you breathe, even as you press yourself further against the wall, away from him. He grins wolfishly, erasing the space between you by pushing his body flush against yours and feeling you shudder at the contact. Slowly and so gently, he reaches up with one large hand to tuck your hair behind your ear, and you let out a shaky breath, your eyes fluttering closed.

That same hand wraps around your throat, pinning you in place, and he leans down to whisper in your ear.

“But you know that I could now, don’t you?” he whispers, feeling your choked gasp through his fingertips around your neck.

“Terry, you’re scaring me,” you confess in a tiny voice, your eyes shut tight.

“Good.” He licks the shell of your ear and you shudder against him again, letting out a primal cry of fear. Suddenly, his weight is off of you and he’s pulled you by the arm, flinging you in the direction of the doorway.

“But I’m not done proving it to you yet.”

---

Reader’s POV:

This was a nightmare.

You can’t remember ever being this scared; you’ve never come close.

Your Terry, your loving, doting Terry… had this really been inside of him all along?

Looking at him now, his hair back in a messy ponytail, dark clothing that helped him blend into the night, his eyes shining brighter than the moonlight streaming through the window, he’s like a demonic creature, looming over you and waiting to strike. Your heart is pounding so loudly you can’t even think straight.

“Terry, you don’t need to prove it to me anymore, okay? I was wrong,” you say, trying to reason with him.

“Words are actions, and actions have consequences.”

“Terry, can we please stop this? I don’t want this,” you try for begging instead.

“Oh but sweetheart, you do.” The confidence with which he says it nearly has you questioning yourself.

“What? No, I –”

“Why haven’t you used our safeword?” he asks you bluntly, giving you an indulgent, mocking smile.

“I…” you start, but trail off when you couldn’t think of an excuse. Why hadn’t you?

You had known that this was Terry almost immediately; the notes had been in his handwriting, only he could empty the place of the staff, the haunting whistling was the tune he whistled.

Was it because you knew it was him and that, terrified as you were, you did believe that Terry wouldn’t actually hurt you? Even so, he was still frightening you more than you would have thought possible…

Or was it the knowledge that if you weren't you, if you didn't mean what you did to him, he could do absolutely anything to you and you would be powerless to even try stop him, and that a part of you wanted this dark, twisted side of him to have his way with you, to own you just as the rest of him did?

Arousal burns through your adrenaline at the thought. Oh.

“There she is, there’s my girl,” he purrs, sounding proud as you realize what he clearly had ages ago. Strangely, the knowledge that your life isn’t in danger doesn’t have you feeling relieved; you’re still on edge, you’re still paranoid, you’re still scared.

“I’ll give you a ten second head start this time, babygirl,” he informs you, staring at you like you’re prey, “and trust me when I say you’re going to be hurting tomorrow if I catch you.”

Your mouth goes dry, and you don’t waste any time, turning and sprinting away from him. Where could you even go? He would hear you, he would find you, he was so much faster…

But you were smaller.

You fly down the stairs to the main floor, frantically looking around you. Where could you hide that Terry wouldn’t look, or think to look? You had to hurry; your time was almost up. You hear him start to whistle the same chilling tune, a tune you’ll never be able to hear again without thinking about tonight, and start to panic as you slide into the living room.

There.

The fireplace. You think back to the other day, of Terry telling you that he had once climbed into a fireplace to hide, when he had broken into that old man’s house for information for his crazy revenge plan. It would be uncomfortable and unpleasant; and he would never suspect it.

Plus, there was a sweet sort of poetic justice to evading him using the methods he had told you about during the conversation that had started this whole debacle. You were determined to wait him out, all night if you had to. Trying not to make a sound, you drop to your knees, crawling into the pitch-black and feeling your way around. You're grateful you still have your shoes on, at least, though you’re pretty sure your favourite robe is ruined from the ashes as you manage to tuck yourself into a corner.

You hear him descend the staircase at a leisurely pace that makes a shiver run down your spine. Something about him acting as though he had all the time in the world was incredibly unsettling. You strain your ears, trying to listen for any sound of him approaching, and then you see his legs walking past you, through the living room and towards the kitchen.

You hold your breath, and don’t blink, not relaxing until long after he’s disappeared from view.

You slowly let out your breath, your head falling onto your knees. Hopefully you had some time before he came around again…

---

You have no idea what time it is, or how long you have being sitting curled up in the coals, but your whole body is cramped and aching. Maybe you could slip out just for a minute or two, just to stretch...

You would just stick your head out, just to listen for the sound of his footsteps, or that damned whistling again. Like a turtle coming out of its shell, you slowly stick your head out of the fire place, your head turned to look at the door. It seems like the coast is clear…

You go to turn back, to slowly step out of the fireplace and not get caught on the grate, but he’s there, squatting on the balls of his feet, looking down at you with a devious smirk on his face.

“Gotcha.”

You’re too startled to even scream, your mouth opening and closing wordlessly as you try to scramble back into your protective cavern like an animal. But Terry is on you immediately, one hand grabbing a fistful of your hair and the other snatching up your wrist, roughly yanking you out from under the mantle and throwing you onto the couch in a heap.

Before you can recover, there is an ominous ripping noise, and he slaps a strip of duct tape over your mouth none too gently. You can’t help but try to scream through it despite knowing it’s useless.

“Can’t have you waking the neighbours now, can we?” he jeers, laughing at you as you thrash against him as he tries to bind your hands behind your back, wrestling you into place. As he pins you down, you feel his hard cock against you, and fight back a shudder. This was really getting him off.

“You thought that you could just curl up and hide from me? Poor little thing; you never stood a chance,” he mocks as he pulls you up onto your knees, your arms now useless. Grabbing your chin from behind, Terry forces you to look at to the fireplace. There’s a half-empty glass of whiskey on the mantle. Neat, just the way he liked it.

You make a muffled, incredulous noise through the duct tape and he laughs, dark and husky, in your ear.

“You held out in your little bunker longer than I thought you would, sweet thing, but I was right out here waiting for you the whole time.”

Hot, embarrassed tears slide down your face, adding to the horror boiling up in the pit of your stomach. You’d thought you had been so cautious, so clever, and he had been watching and waiting the whole time as you sat huddled up with the ashes, terrified.

Terry grabs your upper arm, dragging you back to the fireplace and pointing down to the floor. Forcing your gaze downwards, you see charcoal residue all over the floor.

"If you were anyone else, I'd have you cleaning the dirt you just got all over my floor with your tongue. Instead, your cheek can wipe it up while I make you mine.”

A feeling of angry revulsion washes over you, and you manage to wrench your arm out of his grip and charge towards the couch, leaping over the back of it despite your body’s protests at the sudden movement. You take a couple of steps backwards, keeping the couch between you and Terry, not that you think it’ll do you any good.

He laughs delightedly, clapping his hands in front of him.

“This is why I was so captivated by you the first time we met, Y/N. You’re so fiery – no pun intended – even when you’re so obviously outmatched. You never know when to give up.”

You’re thrown off balance by the strangely-timed compliment, and it gives Terry the opportunity to hurdle the couch with ease. You turn to run but are far too late, and he kicks out at the back of your knees, grabbing hold of you before you can hit the ground and sending you sliding across the floor.

The way he does it is so measured and precise, and while you can appreciate that he doesn’t want you to be really, seriously hurt, it isn’t lost on you that he knows exactly how to do this for a reason. The same knowledge and skill he’s using to bat you around like a cat with a ball of yarn could be used to break you, and that little bit of insight is what has you giving up, curling up on the floor with your hands bound behind your back.

Terry’s booted foot wedges itself underneath your hip, lifting you up and rolling you onto your knees. He tangles a hand in your hair, keeping you facing forward while he comes to kneel behind you, and you’re not proud of the thrill of anticipation that runs through you.

His other hand comes around, slowly and gently untying your robe and pulling it open. He gropes you roughly over your pyjamas, and you let out muffled moans before he abruptly pulls his hand away.

“I thought I had taught you to not bother with pyjamas, Y/N,” he tsks as if disappointed. “Now I’ve got to ruin them.”

He brings his hand up in front of you again, this time clutching the dagger he’d had earlier. You arch away from it reflexively, and Terry’s grip tightens in your hair as he presses the cold face of the knife to your collarbone.

“Stay still, little doll. We don’t want any accidents,” he hisses in your ear, and you tilt your head back, baring your neck and trying to stay still. He slips the blade slowly between your breasts, and your breath hitches as he slices through fabric of your pyjama top with ease.

“That’s it,” Terry coos approvingly. “Head down.”

You immediately tuck your chin, and feel him brush your hair over your shoulders. He teases the knife at the nape of your neck, and you clench your thighs and your teeth, fighting to keep still as you feel him slice the back of your robe, the tip of the blade ghosting along your spine. He sets the knife against the floor, grabbing the two halves of the robe and pulling them away from your body.

You lunge forward in one last attempt at freedom, but he grabs your ankle, pulling you backwards and yanks your pyjama bottoms down to your ankles, impeding your motion.

“It’s almost like you want me to hurt you, Y/N,” he snarls, spanking you hard and making you leap forward again with a muffled groan.

“You do, don’t you?” taunts you, spanking you again. “Such a filthy fucking slut, even after all this.” Your eyes roll into the back of your head. Without the duct tape, you think you’d be drooling all over the place. Terry’s dirty talk always drove you wild, but degrading you like this while you laid on the kitchen floor, bound and gagged and covered in soot, nearly has you passing out.

“Show me how much you want it, baby,” he demands, and you don’t hesitate, immediately spreading your knees and dropping your head and shoulders to the floor, arching your back as much as you can to show him your slick entrance. Your nipples and one of your cheeks press against the cold floor and you whimper, looking back at him with pleading eyes.

Terry is staring down at you with dark eyes, his lips slightly parted and an almost feral expression on his face, curls of hair falling out of his ponytail and framing his face.

“Christ, you’re perfect,” he breathes. “I want to ruin you.”

You groan, so turned on you can feel your pussy leaking down your thighs, writhing against the floor and waggling your ass at him, desperately looking for some stimulation. His hands move to his belt and he quickly pulls his cock out, rock hard and leaking at the tip.

He moves behind you, one hand wrapping around your bound wrists, the other guiding his cock to your entrance and thrusting into you in one smooth motion, immediately setting a brutal pace that has you screaming as much as you can through the duct tape.

“I should always be buried inside you,” he growls, snapping his hips against yours at just that perfect angle to have you nearly going cross-eyed, your knees likely already bruised from the position. He uses his grip on your wrists to pull you back onto his cock as he fucks you, using your body deliciously. You can already feel yourself getting close.

“I can feel your cunt throbbing around my cock,” he groans, slowing down his hips to pound into you with hard, deep thrusts. “You’re coming so quick just from being used. Such a dirty little girl,” he hisses approvingly, and you see stars as you clench around him, coming hard with a shriek.

Terry doesn’t give you a moment’s rest; in fact, he increases his pace again, moving his hand from your wrists up to your hair, pulling your head back with a fistful and making your spine bow even more. You swear you can feel him in your heart, he’s fucking you so hard, and you let him know how good he makes you feel, screaming until you’re dizzy from the lack of oxygen.

“You know I love you gagged, but I want to enjoy every scream from that pretty throat.”

He unceremoniously rips the duct tape from your mouth, likely taking a layer or two of skin with it, and you scream in pain even as you suck in deep breaths of air.

“Terry, pleeease!” you groan out, your voice hoarse and raspy. He releases your hair, letting you slump to the floor, so he can grip your waist, his large hands nearly wrapping completely around it. Your head hits the ground hard enough to sting, but it only adds to your perverse pleasure as you sob at the overstimulation.

“My little fucktoy wants to come again, huh?” Terry snarls, using his bruising grip to pump you on his cock. You wail, unable to articulate a response; you can’t think straight, you barely have the wherewithal to remember to breathe.

“I’m gonna make that pretty pussy come on my cock again, and it’s gonna milk every drop out of my cock, isn’t that right?” You nod frantically, but that’s not enough for him.

“Dirty girls with greedy little cunts beg nicely to get pumped full.”

 Fuck, he was filthy.

And you know it means he’s close.

“Please Sir, I need your come!” you beg desperately, barely hanging on. “I’m a good girl, fill me up!”

He comes with a roar and you follow after, the feeling of him coming deep inside you sending you right over the edge. You clamp down around his cock, making him hiss with pleasure that teeters right on the cusp of pain.

“Oh fuck yes, Y/N!” he pants, still thrusting erratically into you, “My good girl.”

“Thank you, Sir!” you moan, the words coming out as natural as breathing.

“Now every time I fuck you, you’ll remember exactly what I’m capable of, isn’t that right love?” Terry coos down at you once he catches his breath, kissing your sweaty shoulder as he cuts through the duct tape on your wrists.

You’re too spent to nod, let alone speak, and settle for a wordless moan of agreement, letting yourself slump to the ground, whimpering as more of your bare skin hits the cold floor.

You don’t remember how you get to bed, but it comes back in bits and pieces eventually.

*whistles innocently and walks away*

[entropy-game-dev]

Random robot animation tips

(specifically for looping animations)

The following tips have been gained The Hard Way™️ over the course of several weeks. They won't really teach someone how to animate, though practice absolutely will! Also, I am not an artist, have never trained to draw, nor do I do any drawing outside of pixel art, so take these with a grain of salt.

Before animating

Have a concrete vision for your animation - REALLY visualise it in your head before you even start animating

Draft a nice neutral pose and then completely get the core design exactly how you want it

Simpler parts with less details (specifically on the scale of single pixels) may look worse when static but will look a lot better animated

General

Animate one part at a time - start with the "core" part of the animation and build around it

Sometimes this will be the part with the longest loop, other times it will be the most complex part of the animation, and sometimes it may even be the part of the robot to which everything else is anchored

Sliding entire layers around is noticeably cheap without some window-dressing - this can be easily hidden either by retouching the outline to alter the object's shape or by animating the surrounding parts

Sometimes you have to bite the bullet and completely redraw parts across multiple frames. The effort is well worth it, though!

Loose parts should lag behind the main motion by a frame or two, where possible. Sometimes if something is bobbing up and down rapidly, this isn't feasible, so have it lag at the start and ends of the animation instead.

Layers

It's OK to draft your initial design in a single layer, but the sooner you split it up into different layers, the less headaches you will have later down the line

Make a new layer whenever something needs to move independently from something else. Legs and arms are obvious but if a sensor lens inside a socket is going to rotate, keep the lens on a separate layer

Have a blank layer for "fx" - particles, swooshes, anything transient

Frames

Ensure your frame count is an even number. This is key for smooth loops.

If you absolutely, positively, cannot have an even number, at the very least don't use a prime number of frames!!!

Play with duplicating frames in key places to see if they make motions and pauses look more impactful. Likewise, deleting frames can make things feel snappier

Polish

Always have your little preview window open and animating at the correct animation speed and resolution, and check it often

Related to this - have a problem with how something moves? Fix it NOW before it becomes a problem later. It's like building a house on a shaky foundation, as each frame of the animation is predicated on the previous!

Run the animation at high speeds every once in a while - your eyes will be good at catching weirdness or inconsistencies across frames by detecting flickers

When pixels jitter back and forth over multiple frames, or a reversal in motion is too sharp, I find this generally looks bad and should be corrected

Get someone or multiple someones to have a look over your animations throughout the process. Having friends who can actually draw are invaluable beyond words

I'm sure some of these tips are applicable to animation in general too! Hope you found them helpful (or at least, interesting)!

[erstwhilesparrow]

For the ask meme! How about your choice between 1, 3, 5, 6, 8, 9, 19, or 27 for your choice of Outsider SMP ship, if you have any!

ship asks game

ooooh. am i allowed to do all of them. will i be publicly executed for doing all of them. well. okay. let's pick mohwee/owen for ship and see how many of them are actually applicable.

Who is the better cook?

i'm... worried that it might be owen? i cannot imagine either of them are doing fantastic things with food and at least he knows how to bake. UNLESS. mohwee after his [horrible no-good very bad time in the maze alone] gets very into cooking. he is going to have something better than raw scallions and it's going to be something he makes with his own two dang hands. the outsiders have farms and campfires and maybe even utensils; he could make Anything! okay i've decided mohwee wins on power of [that would be cute]. owen is by turns encouraging, bemused, and competitive about this hobby.

3. Are they into PDA? Who initiates most?

ohhhhh my god owen will implode and die if anyone so much as looks at him too fondly. if they are doing any pda ever it is initiated by mohwee and only happening because he's doing his level best to embarrass/confuse owen.

5. Who is the cheesier one of the two?

mohwee will happily do things for the bit, and this includes being cheesy. owen is just. disarmingly sincere sometimes, in a way that he is not registering as cheesiness, but might nevertheless be cheesy. mohwee, on the other hand, is gleefully making owen roll his eyes with every other sentence out of his mouth. if any of it loops back around to being sincere, he certainly is not admitting to it.

6. Who is always, always running late?

answering in the spirit of the question: i don't think mohwee is actually always running late but he is less often on time than owen "was a soldier who had it drilled into him deeper than his bones that he Must be punctual" keldor. it's another fantastic way to aggravate owen <3

answering in the outsiders sense of running: it's still mohwee. i think in the earliest days sometimes he just. decides to check something in the maze and it's like late afternoon and it drives everyone, owen especially, up the wall. after his Very Bad Time, he does this less.

8. Who is a morning person? Who is a night owl?

you know what. i think if you asked them, mohwee would say he's a night owl and owen would say he's a morning person, but the actual thing is the maze has fucked with their sleep and sense of time so bad neither of them cleanly fit into these categories.

9. Who travels lighter?

oh. difficult. might be mohwee just because owen is so often carrying weapons and food and a clock around with him? he needs his quiver and his spear and all that and mohwee is used enough to not having much. he is saying this is fine to cover up for how he's Not Thinking About It and owen does not think this is fine at all.

19. What do they fight about most often? (Alternative: what was their biggest fight?)

um. well. empirically they fight most often about how to handle the maze. and who should be in charge. and who should go into the maze. and when. and whose terrible coping mechanisms are actually right and correct and adaptive. and so forth. but you knew that already. ^^; in the alternate universe where they actually Get Together, perhaps they can argue about who makes the best pie.

27. Craziest place they had sex?

i would say in the woods but like. early outsiders the clearing is Mostly trees, as far as i can tell, so given the givens, not actually really wild place to have sex? ditto for in a cave. owen spent like. what. days or weeks living out of that cave under the water. maybe mohwee proposes fucking in the maze once, but they're not doing that.

[neonseperatedau]

Leo’s Log Entries 234 to 345

It seems you stumbled across a broken control pad. As it boosts up, the label reads ‘Property of Leo’. Most files are corrupted. You take a look at those remaining. (Cass, @somerandomdudelmao thank you so much for creating such an inspiring, wonderful and heart-breaking story. Like many others, I was deeply moved by the latest updates. I hope you don’t mind the few creative liberties I took to tell bits of the comic from Leo’s perspective.)

Log entry 234: Man, this feels weird. It’s been ages since the last time I did an entry. The previous one dates so far back that I had both of my arms still. Sweet innocent Leo with two arms, I want to slap that idiot as soon as we got time travel. Donnie told me I should make it a habit again. I guess I kept zoning out during dinner because it was sometimes difficult to process every single crazy thing that had happened within a day. So, here I am, talking to this log and letting it record me. And Dee, if you are eavesdropping, I ate our final package of froot loops, probably the last one that remained on Earth. I needed to stress-eat after you had turned me into a tangerine-sized turtle tod. I only thought it fair to be somehow compensated for that unwanted experience…

Log entry 255: Case is pacing around all night. He had returned from a mission with Donnie being seriously hurt. You would think we’ve been through stuff like this so often it doesn’t bother us anymore. Nope. Each time, I see one of my family injured, I share their pain. Not in any physical sense. More in the ‘I wish I could have done something to prevent that’ kind of hurt. I long gave up on ‘what-if’ scenarios. The present moment doesn’t give two fs about your guilt. Mikey once told me that he envies me for being so focused on the present and that he sometimes struggles to be really here with us and not be torn between the spiritual realm and the physical. I laughed like a crazy person, and I think he misunderstood me. To me, it was the other way around. I miss Dad so much and I had no means of reaching him. Kinda ironic if you ask me that his ‘least favorite’ son was the one to lose his Ninpo and because of that was forced to let him go forever. Log entry 283: I can’t believe this really happened. I always knew Casey was like a good luck charm but that he would be the one to find Raph and bring him home! Raph is back! He is really back! I haven’t realized it until that big machine picked us all up and pressed us tightly into a hug how much I had relied on him and missed his presence. It was like taking that first breath of fresh air after staying underwater for too long. Our family is whole again. Well, as whole as it can be. Log entry 284: Today’s moral of the story: Things cannot go back to how they used to be. Raph refused to take up his old position, especially with some of his programs malfunctioning and Donnie not able to repair him entirely, he told me he doesn’t want the resistance to rely on him and that I had done a great job in taking up this role as leader. I totes understand him and yet…some part of me hoped I could revert to second-in-command. Spend some more time with Case. Go on my own missions. In the end, duty calls, and there’s no easy way out of it. Log entry 294: My big brother’s return was a miracle and even so, Dee found a way to grant us another one. I don’t want to know what that grenade is made out of, and it doesn’t matter. It can REVERSE the effects of Mikey’s quick aging and that is all that counts! Seeing Mike running around, messing with his abilities, and full of energy…I’m so happy for him. Between an ageless robot and a renewed younger bro, I’m the one who’s doomed to feel like an old fart. Second chances are rare. I always regretted that Mikey had to give up so much of his life for our cause. Let’s hope Donnie can continue to produce these anti-aging bombs for a long time. Log entry 301: It’s raining with the lowest levels of sulphur dioxide in the last ten years. It’s not like it’s super safe. That hadn’t prevented Case from running around and enjoying himself within the rain simulation that Donnie had created afterward. He wrapped us all up in his shenanigans and forced us to stop what we were doing and enjoy the little things in life. That’s…not a bad thing. Log entry 303: We lost Boston. Casualties approximately 200. A ceremony for the fallen is scheduled for the day after. April had intended to inspect the Boston branch and I’m somehow glad she got delayed and hadn’t managed to reach it in time. Otherwise, I’m pretty sure, she wouldn’t have returned. She’s on her way home and I can’t wait to see the look on her face when she hears about Raph. Log entry 314: Our scouting teams record higher rates of kraangified humans and yokai. It’s commonly considered a worse fate than death and yeah sure, we had figured out a way to reverse the process. Even so, it was dangerous for everyone involved and I forbid Mikey at one point to ‘treat’ anyone further. My brother would have crumbled away like overcooked toast if he would’ve cured every kraangified being there was. The instant I realized Casey had gotten infected, I was ready to beg my brother on my knees. Everyone’s selfish in their own ways, huh? Log entry 315: Casey shows great signs of improvement. Dee switched to ‘casual’ surveillance, aka his dozens of cameras whose locations nobody knows for sure. I’m doing my best to make the boy feel less responsible for what happened. We cannot blame ourselves for these things or else we would have lost our sanity long ago. Log entry 322: Hey, Dad. I know I cannot talk to you, but I really wonder if you felt the same way whenever we called you that: Dad. Case used that word to refer to me today. Well, to be honest, he also meant Donnie and Mikey, and Raph. It was one of those stupid ‘my dad is better than yours’ competitions, which makes it even better in my personal opinion. Back when I had promised Cass to look after her son, my first thought had been that this human baby was going to be a burden and I would surely mess everything up. But look at him, look at us. I would do anything for him. Heh, you surely had something similar on your mind when you went ahead and protected us at the cost of your own life. Log entry 343: Things have been busy. With April joining our team, I can allow myself to make more ballsy plans and we sure as hell need those victories. The Kraang continually pushes us back. It’s time to return to favor. Log entry 356: Man, my twin is the smartest person on earth. How did he manage to accidentally spill some of the anti-aging serum on himself? And how can such a small creature be so angry? We all haven’t slept for over 30 hours, afraid that if we take our eyes off him, he either ends up killing someone or gets eaten and I’m not thrilled about both options. Log entry 357: Casey is a genius. He built Tiny Tello a pair of custom glasses. He seems to recognize Mikey and me. Raph is too…changed. That human boy has a heart of gold, to do something so kind for someone who shows him no gratitude whatsoever. He insists it’s payback for everything ‘Uncle Donatello’ built for him. Long story short, my twin’s living in my scarf and it’s only the third weirdest thing to ever happen to me. The way he sometimes pads me with his small hands is adorable (note to myself that I should never mention that to Dee) and it makes me nostalgic for days long gone. Log entry 359: I shouldn’t be surprised that the base can’t exist long without Donnie’s maintenance. Occasionally Mike and I liked to make fun of him for merging with the place and being a true shut-in. Jokes on us that we realized how MUCH we are dependent on him once he turned into a small vicious turtle ball. We need to find a solution fast. Log entry 361: Not sure if it was sheer luck and honestly who cares. Dee is back and we need him now more than ever. Raph sustained some grave damage that isn’t fixable. The same goes for yours truly. They can berate me on how I need to be more careful all they want, I will never regret prioritizing Casey’s life. The longer our resistance continues like this, the more I believe this isn’t about me. They could easily replace me, but everyone in my family is so damn special and irreplaceable. I’m going to hold on to them for as long as I can. Log entry 378: Mikey was such an airhead when he was a teen. What happened? Like for real? He had developed an almost uncanny ability to know when we need someone to talk to or hug or, in Dee’s case, rest. And with his mad abilities, he won’t take a ‘no’ for an answer. I think I need to tell him more often how proud I am. Log entry 379: Casey called me in the middle of a meeting, that was already suspicious. The fact that Dee has been sleeping longer than six hours? Also, unusual. We’re currently taking turns, waiting for him to wake up and explain what’s going on. I’m recording this during my shift. My brother looks smaller and frail. He sinks into his bed almost as if the mattress is about to absorb him. His health was bad when Dad died. He had grieved through overwork and constant exhaustion. I couldn’t see a reason he would fall back into this old pattern. Maybe our injuries had made things worse for him. I should take over most of his work and redistribute it for a while. He won’t like it, but I don’t like seeing him like this even more. Log entry 380: Donnie has been infected. Even he doesn’t know when or where exactly. One thing is for sure, it rendered him weak for a while now and he had refused to let us know. It’s worrying that it’s a variant we haven’t dealt with before. But it’s okay. We’re going to figure something out. We always have. Log entry 385: Mikey and I had sat down late to discuss our options. His hair had turned mostly grey again, a sign my younger brother had done everything he could. Nothing worked. Good thing, the mystic isn’t our only trump card. There’s science, too. Donnie must be close to finding a solution, he has been working non-stop. Log entry 386: I just can’t understand why he would make an excessive list of things we’re supposed to take care of instead of focusing on himself. He’s supposed to be the smart one. So, what if the means to cure himself don’t exist anymore? There must be alternatives. Something even he overlooked. For the time being, we try to let him rest as much as possible and survey him. April’s visiting other resistance groups in the hope of answers. I’ve been contacting Draxum and he assured me to let me know when he found anything. Log entry 389: Casey asked me if he could sleep at my place for the night. He’s upset because Donnie made no effort in hiding his calculations of his own death. He might not act that way, but it must bother him as much as it did Casey. Dee just never expresses his emotions the same way others do. I tried to explain this to Casey. He didn’t say anything in return and quietly sobbed against the back of my shell. Log entry 399: We’ve returned to some form of normalcy, though everyone stays at the base for longer periods to hang around Donnie. He notices and refrains from commenting. Denying makes it a bit more bearable. He’s right here and we’ll be fucking damned to let anything change that. Log entry 415: I had no other choice but to move out on a mission myself. We recently lost fights we should’ve won and there are rumors that it has to do with Donnie’s health and our absence. I blame it on my lack of sleep that I stumbled into one of the Kraang’s traps. One mistake might cost your life, that’s how it has been for the last 20 years, and I was ready to pay the price. Then from nowhere, Donnie appeared in his slabby pullover and summoned the greatest arsenal of mystic weaponry that I’ve ever seen. Casey had surely been with Dee as a crutch. Though, it appeared as if it was the other way around and the boy held on to his uncle while he pushed back the entire Kraang army. It's been…a while since Donnie had gone all out. Witnessing what he’s capable of reminded me of the time we had full access to our Ninpo and had gotten extremely cocky. Even then, my twin had been the rational voice of the team. Choosing to be flashy on special occasions and focusing on providing us with the necessary support and firepower. It had never been anything personal. This time, when rockets flew over our heads causing grand explosions, I could see it in his eyes. He was free at that moment. His mind was consumed with revenge for what the Kraang had done to him and enjoying their screams and demise without a thought wasted on efficiency or greater purpose. Fearing he would collapse from over-exerting himself I had to grab him, and we retreated. He seemed in good spirits afterward. I’m telling myself that if he’s strong enough to pull something like this off, he must be okay. He must be. Log entry 422: A week after Donnie’s all-out attack, his health worsened visibly. As he huddles through his lab to take care of business as usual, we cherish the small things. Drinking tea together. Throwing bad puns at each other. The four of us are often sitting down, reminiscing about the times before this whole mess started. Sometimes April or Casey join us. We would like to show our concern and ask Donnie how he’s feeling, if he needs anything, what we can do for him, but we don’t. Life continues on. Log entry 435: I’m tired. I haven’t slept in a few days. Can’t tell exactly how long it has been. I don’t want to miss anything. Every second is precious, even writing this feels like a waste of time. But I also can’t hover over Donnie, he wouldn’t want that. He’s already mad at me since I denied taking over some of his tasks as if he’s already gone. He’s been trying to explain a few of his inventions to me that keep our base up and running, but it’s been difficult to focus. My mind drifts off to repeat the same few sentences over and over again. Please don’t leave us. Please stay with me. Please. Don’t go.