#like obviously they need to and should be protecting their employees and they are also not in control of the coronovirius situation

[bibluebutterfly]

Hoo boy. Now I've made it known multiple times on my blog that I LOATHE the whoobiefication of Vox, but lets get into why/how Vox is NOT a good person nor a baby that needs protecting and why he's all the better for it. Buckle up ladies and gentlemen, this will be long.

Now, why isn't Vox a good person? Easy. Because he (along with the other Vees) is supposed to be the bad guy of the story. Shocking, I know. Vox was NEVER intended to be a good person, and some of y'all just need to accept that.

Now for the long part: HOW is he not a good person?

Well, first of all, his literal introduction is an ad selling drones HE DESIGNED specifically for stalking,"peeping on the neighbors has never been more stylish"

Right off the bat, this tells us he doesn't care about people unless he can profit off them.

Which is also backed up by the point that he ADVERTISES Val and Vels "love potions" which are basically just roofies.

Again. This man ONLY cares about profit first and foremost, screw the people who can get hurt/SA'd by his products.

Next, he has a power of hypnosis which he is NOT hesitant to use. He can take away someones free will at a glance and uses that to his full advantage.

He's also very willing to give Val his lowest earners to shoot. Notice that he does so with no hesitance and no regret.

Also, (and most significantly) he's a huge, HUGE enabler. This guy has cameras EVERYWHERE, ESPECIALLY when Valentino is involved. He's got cameras in Val's room, Angels old room, at Vals corner of the club (which moves when Val does), there's NO WAY he DOESN'T know that Val is a r@pist.

And DESPITE that, he still sleeps with the man, is very likely in love with him, and oh yeah, FUNDS HIS WHOLE DEAL. The cameras Val uses are Voxtech cameras.

Val may be the one who does the dirty work but Vox willingly and knowingly makes a profit off of that. He doesn’t just know and do nothing, he actively HELPS Val out and obviously has no second thoughts nor regrets about it.

This is not a look of disgust or discontent, this is fondness. Genuine fondness. For Valentino. As a PERSON. Let that sink in.

There’s also the implications that Vox is jealous of the attention Angel gets from Val. Angel gets abused constantly by Val, Vox KNOWS, and still hates Angel because of the sheer fact that he takes up so much of Vals attention.

Not to mention the HEAVY implications that he gets off on watching people suffer.

“Well Vox can still do better than Val!!”

While I’m at it, I guess I should bring up the fact that BOTH Vox and Val are MASSIVE red flags.

With Val, aside from the obvious, he’s also a huge attention whore for Vox and isn’t afraid to break Vox’s property if Vox doesn’t pay attention to him. Yeah Vox gets frustrated with him, who wouldn’t be when their lover is throwing temper tantrums every other day?

With Vox, again, aside from the obvious, isn’t afraid to handle Val roughly when he’s mad, and literally screams about how watching his arch nemesis/obsession get the crap beat out of him is better than sex. Right in front of Val by the way. In regular circumstances, 9.98/10 that’s gonna get your ass dumped in a second.

Not to mention the mutual condescension ation towards each other.

And as much as fans (including myself admittedly) like to shit on Val for being a man child, Vox is literally no better.

Plus the explosive tempers.

Seriously. Vox LITERALLY cannot do better than Val. Vox is the only one who can put up with Vals BS and vice versa.

OH YEAH and lets not forget one last thing: VOX ALSO ABUSES HIS OWN EMPLOYEES.

This dude is scared of him, and it’s NOT because he’s worried about getting fired.

So yes. Vox is not nor HAS EVER been a good person.

And for me personally, I love that. I love that he’s entertaining yet awful. I love his dynamic with Alastor, and I love his relationship with Val even more.

If you’re wondering why I personally love Staticmoth, it’s because basic couple rules do not apply to them. They’re both toxic narcissistic red flags and therefore they can be as awful as they want to each other, and the other will simply shake it off. Yet there’s still heavy trust between the two (never being scared of each other) and they still have little moments together where they’re genuinely happy. It’s unique, and something I’ve never seen in media before.

Basically, if you liked Vox better when you thought he was a poor little baby being abused by Val, read a fan fiction. There’s a lot of them out there.

But people really just need to accept the fact that he’s an awful person. Always has been. He’s not better than Val by ANY means. He and Val are both evil pricks who deserve each other.

And guess what? LIKING AN EVIL CHARACTER DOES NOT MEAN YOU SUPPORT THEIR CHOICES. IT’S OKAY TO LIKE VOX EVEN IF HE IS EVIL.

But don’t go on saying that Vox was “ruined” as a character when all signs have always pointed to him being terrible.

[trashfangirlsworld]

Hello! I've been inactive due to the current events in the mcyt community, but I've been keeping up with the qsmp admin situation and I thought I'd share some opinions because the amount of doomposting I've seen the last few weeks has been more than I've seen in any fandom in a while and I feel like it's reached the point where people really need to chill the fuck out because they're not thinking straight and actively not helping. Everything I'm gonna say is based on stuff I've seen on both tumblr and twitter.

they should not promote/release merch! : one of the things that baffles me the most tbh; how do you expect any employee to be payed then? Merch is so far the only big source of income for the server besides q's own cc salary or whatever income they get through the official qsmp channel on twitch and youtube (which I don't think is a lot). "I get that they said they have no funds, but still it doesn't feel right"... sorry but at this point I don't know what to tell you, do you expect them to pull money out of their asses? You can't demand that they stop making merch and then complain that they can't afford the twitter admins at the same time. If you don't feel comfortable buying anything from them it's fine obviously, but if your reason for it is that you're helping the admins then I have bad news for you. I have seen people propose that quackity sets up a patreon, and while I think it would be a good idea, I understand why he's not doing it, since with the merch he can at least give something back to the people that choose to support his project instead of people just giving him money for free, especially with what's happening now. Also with how much hate he's been receiving simply for the merch I can't imagine that a patreon would be recieved well.

we don't know if the money is going to the admins/ they should not use pomme's likeness! : the money is definitely going to go to the employees and admins because otherwise the server would not last. And as much as I understand people feeling protective over pomme's admin, quackity studios is very much allowed to sell merch of the character because it is not the likeness of the admin, it's a minecraft model made by the people that work there. Would you have rathered they skip her character entirely? Do you really think that would have been okay?. Also correct me if I'm wrong, but I've seen posts and tweets saying that pomme's admin has been confirmed to come back with the other eggs whenever it happens by pierre, who talked with her admin.

the admins of the update accounts got fired, it means they want to fire everyone, they aren't making things better! : it sucks that the updates accounts had to end and I feel bad for every twitter admin that clearly cared a lot about the project, but unfortunately it had to happen if there simply isn't enough money to pay them adequately like they deserved and ultimately the update accounts were not essential to keep the project going, so it makes sense that they were let go unfortunately. This is not gonna be the case for the egg admins because if they got fired (which they didn't), the server would basically end. Just because a cc does not know when they will be back does not mean it's not gonna happen. Just because tubbo randomly said that he's not sure if they will be back does not mean they were fired; tubbo is normally not a reliable source of information, even less so when he's been live nonstop for the past 20 days, which is prior to everything happening. If you genuinely didn't expect a reduction in non essential staff considering everything, then you have unreasonable expectations on how this stuff goes. As I write this, I'm seeing people saying that "they would understand this decision if q had set up a patreon to pay the admins", and once again I don't understand how people don't realize why quackity might not be keen on the idea of having his fans pay his own employees for his own project instead of, you know, doing it himself; and, again, do not fool yourself into thinking it would be recieved well. That being said, it's fair to criticize how everything was communicated to the admins, but I'll get to this in more detail later.

quackity should not have uninstalled social media, he's trying to avoid everything! : he's not avoiding anything, he's been off social media for a while now, which is why it took him that long to remove wilbur from the server. He has every right to not want to look at social media, as his focus should be on restructuring his server instead of doomscrolling on twitter because people think he needs to see how much people dislike him. The only people that he should talk to are those that have important information to tell him, like josè with the document. He explicitly said on stream where to contact him if you have helpful information and I'm sure that despite multiple well liked posts saying not to spam his email, people are definitely doing it anyway, which is probably gonna slow the whole thing down even more. I hope josè's document is able to be seen with pierre's help as well.

quackity studios is not communicating with their employees and leaving them in the dark and that's not okay : I agree with this. i think a huge chunk of doomposting lately has been due the lack of communication not with the audience, but with the admins, and they deserve to know what is happening behind the scenes more then us since this is about their current or future job.... that being said, I do kind of understand why they're being so secretive and shutting everyone out, and that's due to all the "leaks" that have been spread online. I understand the anger but I really wish some people would realize that discussing leaked bts lore stuff in ccs discord servers does not help the situation at all and instead makes it seem like they're only doing this to rile up the fandom against quackity studios by using the lore of people's fav characters.

At the end of the day, I think people just aren't used to dealing with a situation that does not have a clear cut solution and someone to clearly hate, so the result is this doomposting and the over aggressiveness toward anything related to the project. Personally, I haven't witnessed anything that made me lose faith in the qsmp like some people have been saying, as every change that we've seen so far coincides with what quackity said on stream a while ago. I only wish things were communicated properly to the admins clearly, as they're the ones most affected, so I hope that's resolved soon. Ultimately quackity is singlehandedly restructuring the server from basically zero, has had to fire people that were misusing money and power and, depending on what josè's document said, is probably gonna have to fire some more. This is not an easy process, nor a quick one, you're not gonna hear about sunshine and rainbows for a while and doomposting about everything you hear because you expected quick change is useless. Think before you speak, have a clear head and most importantly have empathy.

[nathanbatemanfucker]

In Plain Sight, Ch 3: The Tempest

summary: nathan makes his intentions clear and as always…is a bit of an asshole while doing it.

pairing: nathan bateman x f!reader

contents: 18+/NSFW/MINORS DNI, enemies to lovers (sorta), boss/employee dynamics, pining, nerves, SIBLINGSSSS, mentions of care taking/sick relative, first date?? (after the fact), Nathan being A MEGA SIMPPPPPP

wc: 3,446

an: we get to meet reader’s sisters in this, both of which i love very very much! you also get a bit of reader’s background. and of course, nathan’s attempt at asking someone out. hope y’all enjoy and always thanks for reading! <3

in plain sight masterlist | part 4 | phart 5

Sleep last night was difficult…and interesting. It took you a while to fall asleep, your nerves feeling a little frazzled once you’d gotten in the car and started to think about how you were going to have dinner with Nathan. You’ve spent plenty of time alone with him, but within the boss-employee dynamic. This dinner he’s asked you to could still be that— but you wouldn’t have your usual protections. No pressing questions, no tasks, no screens to hide behind. You and him. And food. When’s the last time you shared a meal with someone other than your sisters?

Once you’d finally succumbed to sleep, your dreams were of him. It felt like nothing and everything all at once. Nathan was there. You’ve never dreamt of him before. You were in Nathan’s house— except it was clear that neither of you were working. You watched a movie together cuddling on the couch, cooked a meal, and took a walk through the forest. While the thought of that would never appeal to you in real life when you wake, there’s a peaceful feeling lingering. It’s a little unsettling.

You hop out of bed before you can allow yourself to start assigning meaning to the dream. It was simply that— a dream. A product of your nerves, and spending nearly every waking moment dedicated to learning, organizing and managing all the aspects of Nathan’s life.

You get caught up in your ungodly long morning routine. Breakfast and tea with your mom as you read from her favorite poetry book, picking your sisters’ lunches, showering. Pressing your sisters’ uniforms. Making sure your mother has everything she needs before the time gap it takes for the nurse to arrive. Writing out a to do list for when you get home and setting out your comfortable clothing. Once everything’s set you change out of your robe and into your work clothes. You’re spending too much time in front of the mirror, fidgeting and analyzing yourself. There’s no need to look perfect, it’s just Nathan. Mr. Bateman, you should call him even in your head for separation.

“You look extra pretty today,” Your youngest sister, Emma, mumbles sleepily from her place in your bed.

You smooth out your skirt for the millionth time, looking over your shoulder at her, “Yeah, you think so Em?”

She yawns, raising a fist to rub at her eye. “You did your hair all nice and you’re wearing a skirt.”

“I wear skirts all the time,” You reason with her (and maybe a little with yourself).

“Not the pretty one.”

You cross the room, leaning in to tickle her, “Hey— are you saying all my other skirts are ugly?”

Emma bursts into a fit of giggles, doing her best to twist away from you. “Stop it,” She wheezes.

“Take it back and I’ll stop,” You reason with her, unable to stop your own laughter.

“I’m sorry, I take it back,” She whines, thrashing playfully beneath you.

“You’re safe for now, little one. Do you want me to make you some oatmeal before I go?”

“Can you eat it with me?” Emma asks, hopeful.

“No, honey, I’ve got to go. But, I’ll be home early tonight. We can watch a movie, how does that sound.”

Emma’s quiet for a few moments, obviously disappointed but then she nods, and cracks a sad smile. You lean in to kiss her forehead, hugging her close.

“Go brush your teeth and I’ll make your breakfast.”

“Do you think sister wants to eat with me?”

It takes effort for you not to cringe. Of course Emma wants to spend time with her other sister, but it seems like Phil is in her fuck any and everyone phase. You’ll try to get through to her though, if not for her own sake, then for Emma’s. A 7 year old shouldn't be spending so much time alone, not when some of her family is right here.

“I’ll ask her. If not, you can go sit with momma, alright?”

“Okay.”

“Okay, little, up up. To the bathroom you go.”

You both stand, and you take her hand, dropping her off at the bathroom on your way to Phil’s room. To your surprise, the girl is already on up and on her phone when you crack the door.

She frowns, letting out a little sigh. “What?”

“Emma wants you to have breakfast with her.”

Phil rolls her eyes, not bothering to look over at you, “I’m not hungry.”

“Phillipa, you should eat. And you should always be excited to spend time with your sister.”

“She’s whiny.”

You cross the room, coming to sit beside her on the bed, “So are you.”

“Yeah and I have reason to be,” She murmurs defiantly.

“And she doesn’t?”

She grows quiet then, her thumb that had been continuously scrolling stopping in its tracks.

“Even if you don’t eat, could you just sit with her?” You ask, knowing that her shell has cracked a little.

“Fine, whatever,” She breathes.

“I’m making her a yogurt bowl. Do you want one?”

“No,” She says quickly, trying to feign uninterest. “Unless we have chocolate chips.”

“We have chocolate chips. And marshmallow fluff.”

“Then I guess I’ll have one.”

“Thank you. I’ll leave some money so you can get one of those fancy coffees from the place near your school. Will you pick a movie for us to watch today?”

“You’re coming home?”

“I should be here by 6…7 at the latest.”

“Oh. Okay,” She says, feigning disinterest.

“That’s all I get? An oh okay? Maybe I should tell Mr. Bateman I can work late.”

“No! You’re never home, c’mon don’t do that.”

“I’m excited to hang out with you too,” You say teasingly, leaning over to rest your head on her shoulder. Surprisingly, she lets you stay there.

“Can I make brownies?”

“As long as you let Emma help.”

“Of course I’ll let her help.”

“You have to be patient with her,” You remind her gently.

“I know, I know. Like you were with me,” She whispers thoughtfully. Sometimes you don’t think you give her enough credit.

“I love you Phillipa. You’re her big sister you know? I’m gone so much trying to make everything work here. She’s looking up to you. She thinks you’re the coolest person in the world.”

“You think so?”

“I know so.”

“Can I make her yogurt bowl and you make mine?”

“Sure, sweet girl. Let’s go.”

—

Nathan has never described himself as antsy. Impatient maybe, against delayed gratification sure. Antsy brings a connotation he’s not used to— nerves, a power struggle he’s on the losing side of, and lack of confidence. And while all of that feels true right now he still doesn’t want to admit it. He’s sitting at his desk, waiting for you to get in. His brow is sweaty because he’s been pacing back and forth, changing his mind about where he should be.

Eager to see you, he’d started in your office which is based in one of his many labs. It only took 10 minutes of him pacing in there to think that he was coming on too strong. It led him to the living room, but after sitting for a few minutes lounging at 6:30 in the morning when you were clocking in felt like it would be a slap in the face. He tried the patio, the kitchen, and eventually ended up back in his office.

He’d felt a little good about himself, the fact that he was thinking about this in a way that doesn’t just involve him and his desires. It was one of the reasons he’d realized what was happening to him. He’s doing his best at balancing his protective shell and showing you what he could be. What the two of you could be together.

Nathan loses his breath when you first come up on the camera, walking into your office. He’s always thought you were beautiful but today it seems like you tried to be. That could be his wishful thinking. Either way, he can’t take his eyes off you. You’re wearing a skirt he’s never seen before. A little shorter, a little pleated. It has his mind wandering off to places it shouldn’t, but it’s not like it hasn’t before. He can’t wait to get in the shower long after you left, and imagine what it would feel like to slip you out of it.

He stares…and stares…and stares until he realizes that an hour and half has gone by and he’s done nothing but give himself blue balls while watching you type away on your computer. Fuck, he’s completely at your mercy.

He pings you. Maybe that’ll make it worse, having you right in front of him like this. But, he needs to see you to scratch whatever itch this is in him today. There’s work too, a few things he needs to give to you to file away or mail out.

“Good morning, Mr. Bateman.”

He usually likes it when you call him that— especially when he’s imagining you say it while he runs his hands all over your body, all dirty and forbidden. Today is different. Something about it makes him shift uncomfortably in his seat. With dinner today, his first real shot at trying to know you as something other than his employee. As an outsider like everyone else.

“Would it kill you to call me Nathan?” He asks, raising a brow though his mouth is a little pouty.

It takes everything in you not to laugh. He looks ridiculous when he’s disgruntled. “That would be unprofessional, sir. Are those for me?”

“Yeah, they’re for you. We still on for dinner?”

The words make your stomach flip. Not because you don’t want to, but because you do. Because words like that aren’t supposed to come out of your boss’ mouth. They’re too casual, too much like the one’s men you used to swipe through on your phone said.

“Yes, I’m still able to have dinner with you, sir. Am I able to leave early?” You ask, reaching for the stack of files.

“You can leave whenever you want.”

Your mouth pulls up into a half-smile, and you nod. “Thank you, Mr. Bateman.”

Nathan leaves you be for the rest of the day. He doesn’t want to come on too strong, or be too clingy, something he’s never worried about before. He spends most of the day with the chef, yelling at him that he’s making everything all wrong— too salty or sweet or slimy or acidic— until it’s perfect. He needs it to be perfect. And once it is, he appears in the doorway of the lab your office is in, calling out to you in an uncharacteristically soft manner.

You inhale softly as you two make your way to the kitchen, the smell of familiar herbs and spices in the air. “Italian?”

“Compiled some data— this seemed like the smartest choice.”

“Compiled some data? On me?”

“I compile data on everyone. I need to learn.”

“What could you possibly have to learn about me?”

“Everything. You’re really fucking secretive.”

“I’m not secretive, I’m private,” You reason.

Nathan snorts, looking at you with an expression of disbelief, “You have to realize that those things are the same.”

“They’re not,” You counter before thinking better of it.

This is why you were quiet and avoided him as much as possible— Philippa isn’t the only one in your family with a streak of defiance. Denying authority runs in your blood, it has taken you years to quell it.

“They are if somebody’s trying to get to know you.”

“And that’s what you’re doing, Mr. Bateman? Trying to get to know me?”

He shrugs, feeling a little too unsettled— a little too nervous to reveal his intentions so early on.

“What did you learn with this data you compiled on me?”

“That you like noodle dishes of all kinds, but preferably Italian. And chocolate.”

There are two places settings sat at the corner of the table, a few bowls of various pastas, salads and breads. Dinner is surprisingly calm. He asks you simple, noninvasive questions about your past. He knows where you went to school and what past jobs you’ve had, but he asks you how you felt about them, if you made friends. He asks for your favorite movies and bands, supplying his own when you ask the same questions. It’s the most benign conversation you’ve ever had with him and it feels…good.

He surprises you when he says, “This. Again. Maybe next week?”

Your mouth goes flat with confusion, “You want to have dinner with me again, sir?”

“Nathan,” He suggests, wiping his mouth with a napkin.

You stare at him for a moment, eyes narrowing. “If this is some sort of joke, I don’t appreciate it, Nathan.”

Sweet, sweet music to his ears. Even with the attitude in your voice, Nathan drinks in every drop of his name on your tongue. In fact, he thinks the edge makes it better— it makes his blood hot. It makes him want you.

He leans closer, peering at you from over his glasses. “I’m an asshole and a clown, a shitty combination but what I’m not is an idiot, sweetheart. I wouldn’t joke about this,” His face is earnest as he speaks.

But, what does that even mean when it comes to him? You’re not completely sure. What’s worse is that you don’t know if your stomach is flipping at the idea of him telling the truth or disappointment that he may not be. The latter is what scares you most. When did you start to care about him like that?

“You— are you— you’re— you want to date me?”

Nathan bites his tongue for several seconds. He can’t say that he wants to do more than date you. He wants to consume you, to worship you, to spread you across this table and drink from between your legs until you whine and beg him for mercy. He can’t do any of that— not yet at least.

He settles for, “Yes.”

With his affirmative response, with nowhere to hide you look down at your empty plate, trying to process what’s happening. If this is true and he wants to date you, was this your first date? First dates are consensual, and while you had agreed to this dinner with him you hadn’t even been aware of your feelings at the time. Surely you couldn’t date your boss. It’s the total opposite of what you’d been trying to do— keep a low radar and be as competent and professional as possible to keep your family on the right path. You wouldn't jeopardize that for the hot, broad, bearded man sitting in front of you, even if he was looking at you with those gooey brown eyes. How long had you pretended you didn’t see him? How wide he is, how his shirts cling to his shoulders and chest, how sometimes when he comes straight to the lab after boxing his pheromones have you wanting to rut against him like an animal in heat.

You inhale a sharp breath, horrified and surprised by the thoughts racing through your head. It’s like he had unlocked a vault of vulgarities.

Finally, you look at him, apologetic, “Nathan…I can’t. I can’t do something that.”

Nathan notices right away that you didn’t deny feeling anything, and for now that’s enough. It’s an in. And if he’s not mistaken he hears a breathiness in your tone, hunger in your eyes.

“Why?”

“You’re my boss,” You say simply. It seems rather straightforward but Nathan frowns at you in confusion. For a man with such a big brain he could miss the mark sometimes. It would be endearing if it didn’t drive you a little nuts. Okay, maybe it’s both.

“What’s that gotta do with anything?”

“If it went poorly—“

“You think I would fire you over my ego?”

“Quite frankly, yes. I’ve seen how you treat people.”

“I wouldn’t do that to you,” He insists firmly. He knows it’s true, he just had to convince you.

“How would you know?”

“Because I know.”

“And if I say that’s not good enough? My entire family is dependent on me. On the money I make. I can’t and won’t put that at risk.”

Nathan scoffs, “There is no risk. I’m sure.”

“What if I’m not sure?”

“What’s that gotta do with how I feel?”

“Everything.”

“Nothing. It’s got nothing to do with how I feel, wanna know why? Because I put my ass on the line asking you here, not knowing how the fuck you feel about me. You’re the most elusive, sweet, competent…fucking arousing woman I’ve ever met. I’m spoken for.”

“Prove it,” You challenge.

This time he’s sure. He can hear how winded you sound and he knows that he’s affecting you. He wants to clear the table, crawl across and fuck you until neither of you can think. He’s getting ahead of himself.

“Prove it?”

“A trial of you showing me that all of what you said is true. We can spend more time together, but no commitments, and if it doesn’t work out I keep my job.”

“You sure? You’re gonna fall in love with me,” He warns, his grin mischievous.

“And you’re gonna have to work for it. Have you ever had to court a woman, Mr. Bateman?”

“No, sounds like I’ve got a lot of research to do. I’m a fast learner.”

“That you are.”

“Do you want to know your choices for dessert?”

“There’s choices?”

“Four.”

You grow thoughtful for a moment, before saying, “All of them. Bring me all of them.”

He can’t help the smile that spreads across his face— if he wasn’t in love with you already he is now. You allow yourself to look at him, to really look at him. And like this, his teeth white and shiny, eyes crinkled in the corners, warm brown eyes he looks sweet. Lovable. Like he could one day be yours. You won’t get your hopes up, not yet.

—

Nathan walks you to your car. It’s strange, much sweeter than you anticipating him being, but you did tell he had to work for it. You unlock the car with your remote and he gets your door. He ushers you in. He takes your hand and kisses it, his full beard tickling your skin in a way that makes your thoughts go hot and filthy.

“Drive safe for fucks sake.”

“Aren’t you a charmer?” You murmur in that soft little voice.

Nathan raises a brow at you as he leans against the car. “Are you sassing your boss?”

“No. I’m sassing the man that claims he wants to pursue me.”

“I hate to break it to you, but those are the same man, sweetheart,” He teases with a grin.

“Not if he’s gonna get it together, and prove it.”

“Touché. Let me know when you get home?”

“Keeping tabs on me already?”

“I— I always wonder,” He admits softly, and as you peer at him, you notice a soft flush in his cheeks.

He’s going to be the death of you, isn’t he? Getting all soft and sweet and flustered. You want to grab him by the collar and kiss him until his chest heaves with arousal and he cums in his pants. Instead you say: “I’ll let you know.”

“Good,” He takes a step away from the car, trying his best not to show how pleased he is with your agreement.

He feels like a walking raw nerve. You hold his future in your hands— his happiness, his sanity. It’s unhealthy and scary, how much control you have over him. But this time, he knows that the person is worthy. You’re worth any pain you could cause him, and that’s solidified by the way you grin up at him. It’s the brightest thing he’s ever seen. You looking at him like this, your saccharine smile, eyes full of mirth has his brain liquifying.

He grits his teeth at the way you’ve turned him into some Shakespearean loser. He could wax day in and day out about you. Write lines upon lines of code that would program nothing but his feelings for you. It’s stupidly perfect. He wants this with no one else. There is just you. Part of him is convinced that it’s always been you. He’s been on trajectory, making his way to you with every single decision. Fuck Bluebook. Fuck robots and their fake brains and gangly synthetic limbs. Fuck his data. Fuck all of his accomplishments. There’s just you.

“See you tomorrow, Nathan.”

nathan taglist: @missdictatorme, @hon3yboy, @runa-falls, @campingwiththecharmings, @toracainz, @steven-grants-world, @clemdango04, @jdbxws, @crispysublimecupcake, @sub-aro, @faretheeoscar, @cupidysm, @whentheskyispinkandabitblue, @nova-ivy541, @sparkypantelones, @veritable-trash, @mangoslushcrush, @thhriller, @kotaropuppy, @tenderhornynihilist

[chaifootsteps]

hb could have actually worked Stolas in to the 'Blitz needs to believe people can love him so he won't die alone' plot without it being so disgusting and yucky

OK so hear me out - everything plays out the same up to Ozzie's

then in s2-4 instead of doing The Circus and making Stolas the main character, we stay with Blitz. if S1 was about who he's hurt in the past s2 is the point at which he begins trying to mend fences, but actively instead of the writers just forcing him to do it because he realized in Ozzie's he doesn't like how things are now

have the 'crashed Moxxie's anniversary' actually pay off with M&M being frostier than usual and Blitz being afraid he's about to lose them too. have Loona be annoyed when Blitz is overbearing when she's trying to make new friendships and accidentally sabotaging them with his over-protectiveness

have it be a story of Blitz simultaenously trying to make it up to people from the past (not all of whom forgive him) while he's trying to avoid repeating the same mistakes in the present with his new family

have the circus accident be more directly his fault - maybe he's practicing a stunt to win his father's love and causes the fire that way, even though he obviously didn't mean to

and have him begin to be emotionally vulnerable in small ways and he feels it pay off when others respond in kind instead of mocking or hating him like he fears. Trash 'Oops' as an episode but keep the emotional beat of Fizz forgiving him being the turning point for Blitz forgiving himself a bit, too, because Fizz's forgiveness is the thing he's secretly longed for during the entire show (next to Barbie's, who should also get vastly more screentime). have arcs to handle each of the main cast and flesh out IMP first and foremost

then as he begins to heal and treat people better, return to the Ozzie's plotline. have it be a thread throughout s2 of following Blitz's perspective of the fallout, not Stolas'. Show how confused he is by what Stolas is doing and why he's so happy to avoid him for those months off. have him make small comments to the people in his life about how deeply unhappy Stolas makes him and have them actually notice, because Blitz hated himself so much before he just rationalized what was being done to him as something he deserved

have the full moon argument play out as-is, but instead of what happens during apology tour, have Blitz think what he needs to do is apologize to Stolas to complete his character growth and love someone. Except make it clear to the audience that he has nagging doubts about all this - especially when Stolas pulls the 'I can't believe you didn't ditch taking your daughter to the doctor's office to come save me despite sending your employees to help because I fundamentally don't value your family or your time' card

And then right when it looks like he's about to cave and give Stolas what he wants - he doesn't.

He tells Stolas now he's learnt to love himself and he has people in his life again who've proven to him that he can be cherished and his worst self won't be rejected so long as he puts the work in to make things right when he screws up. He tells Stolas he used to think the owl was the closest thing to real love he could ever have - feeling used, abused and degraded. But he knows better than that now and he isn't about to let a pompous self absorbed royal bully him into being the perfect consort he wants. He goes further than that, even, telling Stolas he was bought to be his friend and pitied him from the start - and even now he wouldn't trade places with him even if he could

Because Blitz has rebuilt his life by looking in the mirror, holding himself to task and trying to be better. Meanwhile Stolas - who has had every advantage Blitz hadn't and could have chosen every step to do things differently - has actively pushed away both Via and Blitz with his 'never my fault, promise to do differently while getting worse all the time' behavior

Then Blitz walks out of his life for good, because now he has regained a sense of self worth he can see that he deserves better than the "love" Stolas was offering

and the one person he does apologize to, besides Barbie/Fizz/Moxxie/Verosika/etc? Striker. He apologizes for calling him a supremacist (still happens in this rewrite but as a sign of how hard Blitz is trying not to think that Striker has a point about Stolas) and that he isn't interested in fighting with him any longer

And Striker just responds with a smile, because he knows it means what he hoped all along would happen, has happened. Blitz is finally free from Stolas - and when he's ready he can move on to a love who respects him instead of just wanting to use him

I want this. If we can't have this in canon because Viv is Viv, I'm glad we have it here and now.

[justinspoliticalcorner]

Dean Obeidallah at The Dean's Report:

Flash forward to 2024. We are confronted with Donald Trump--an aspiring authoritarian--who like Hitler led a failed coup but then pivoted to use democracy to destroy the Republic. And like with Mein Kampf in the 1930’s, today we are faced with an equally sinister political manifesto called, “Project 2025.” It’s formal name, though, should be “Donald Trump’s Project 2025” because everything about it is Trump and MAGA. [...]

Project 2025 is not hiding the goal of turning their ideas into policy as stated in the opening of the manifesto: “It is not enough for conservatives to win elections. If we are going to rescue the country from the grip of the radical Left, we need both a governing agenda and the right people in place, ready to carry this agenda out on Day One of the next conservative Administration.”

To that end, Project 2025 has created a Presidential Administration Academy to train people in advance so they can be ready to impose the Project 2025 policy agenda once Trump wins.  From there, Project 2025 lays out the 180-day playbook that articulates the policies that they will work to impose in the first six months of Trump’s Reich.  Here are just a few of policy examples which are obviously taken right from Trump: 1.     Making the President a king. The GOP Supreme Court obviously beat Project 2025 to this goal with their recent ruling that a President is literally above the law—as Trump requested of them. But in the case of Project 2025, the focus is not avoiding criminal prosecution, it’s about placing the entire federal bureaucracy, including independent agencies such as the Department of Justice, under the direct control of the President. This is 100% in line with Trump’s stated goals in this campaign. 2.     Ending civil service protections to ensure only those loyal to Trump/MAGA are in control. This is literally reinstating a Trump-era executive order that makes federal employees fireable at-will, stripping tens of thousands of employees of civil service protections. In other words, Trump can fill his administration with people loyal to him above the Constitution. 3.     Banning abortion and access to certain birth control. This is part of the Christian nationalist agenda of Project 2025 and can be achieved by Trump ordering his FDA to reverse approval of abortion drugs. But let’s not play games, their goal is a total national abortion ban where women are forced to carry a fetus to term against their will. If a GOP controlled Congress passed a national abortion ban, we know Trump will sign it given he has repeatedly told us “I’m the one that got rid of Roe v. Wade” and how “honored” he was to do so. 4.     Rolling back protections for LGBTQ people: Project 2025 wants to end LGBTQ workplace discrimination protections so that bigots can more easily fire people from that community. In addition, they are calling for reinstating a transgender military ban as well stopping what it considers the “toxic normalization of transgenderism” across American society. As a reminder, in Trump’s first term, he “initiated a sustained, years-long effort to erase protections for LGBTQ people” as the ACLU detailed.  And Trump has vowed to do exactly what Project 2025 is calling for by rolling back Biden protections for the LGBTQ community. 5.     Climate change: The plan’s proposals include ending existing climate programs and increasing reliance on fossil fuels. Project 2025 also advocates disbanding various bureaucratic offices related to renewable energy and climate science. Trump--who has repeatedly called climate change a “hoax”--as president rolled back Obama era regulations to address the issue. And if elected, he has pledged to do exactly what Project 2025 laid out—even recently telling oil executives that point blank in exchange for donations. There are also detailed policies that line up perfectly with Trump’s other proposals from extreme anti-immigration proposals intended to keep America white to ending diversity and equity programs to shutting down the Department of Education so that GOP states can they implement education that is literally political and religious indoctrination to tax cuts for the wealthy. This is exactly what Trump has championed and is literally on his website as “Agenda 47.”

Dean Obeidallah wrote this gem on his Dean’s Report Substack column: Project 2025 is the modern-day version of Adolf Hitler’s Mein Kampf, as the GOP wants to turn the USA into a fascist state like Hungary.

Trump can disavow Project 2025 all he wants, but in reality, he had a large imprint into it.

[sirowsky-stories]

The Old Prince

Part 4

Author's Note: Hello, again! I still can't get this story out of my head. I'm introducing a new element to it in this chapter, which we'll all get more acquainted with in the next one, but I'm adding an image at the end of this one, to give you all an idea of what it'll look like.

Description: After realizing that Oberyn hasn't been honest with you, life back home has becomes anxious, filled with questions that you fear may never be answered. But you still have to try and find some normality, and this year's Thanksgiving Ball seems like a good place to start.

Rating: Mature 18+ONLY Warnings: Monster Oberyn Martell x Female Reader, AU fic, eventual romance, obviously Halloween themed, reader cusses, lots of angst in this one, overprotective coworker, slightly jealous Oberyn. Word Count: 6030 Author's Masterlist

   You’re back at work already the next day. Halloween has come and gone, which means it’s time to prepare for Thanksgiving and Christmas, and since you’re one of only four employees at the local holiday specials store, you’re sorely needed. September through December are the busiest months for this type of store, so every day you’re not all working is a minor disaster.    But if you’re honest, it isn’t your loyalty to the job that’s responsible for your quick return or the extra hours you’re putting in.

   It’s simply because the job is the only thing that takes your mind off him.

   When you’re home, he’s all you can think about. You hear his voice as clearly as if he’s standing in the room with you, asking questions about your life and then letting you prattle on for hours. Something you had attributed to his kind nature and polite manners.    Now though, it seems more like he was trying to learn as much about you as he could, for reasons you don’t dare to even imagine.

   He’d asked you about trivial things, like what book you’d last read or if you prefer to stack your firewood bark side up or down, which you still can’t see the harm in having told him. But he’d also asked you about your work, your people, your interests and how you spend your days, the answers to which must’ve allowed someone of his age and accumulated knowledge of people, to fully grasp your personality and character.

   So, why is that making you have a mild panic attack every time you think about it?    Because you have no idea what he might do with that knowledge. Maybe he was just curious. Maybe it makes no difference at all what you’ve told him. It is possible that he really was just happy for the company.    It’s the “what if” that plagues you.

   Because if he does decide to use his knowledge against you, the odds will be entirely in his favor, since you know nothing about him in comparison.    You want to believe that you wouldn’t have fallen for him (and you did fall for him) if he is indeed the monster that tried to kill you. But in truth, there’s no way that you could know that with any certainty.    Just like there’s nothing you can do to protect yourself from him, either way.

-=<>=-=<>=-=<>=-

   The hours are endless and deafeningly silent in the days after your departure.    He has never been one to wander, to have that restless tremor within, pulling one to their feet and refusing to let them remain still. But he does now.    The stone will quickly turn polished with all his wandering, should the feeling not subside soon enough, which it gives no indication that it will.

   So, he wanders. Through each of the nine wings and up into each of the nine towers, yours being the tallest, and the only one he lingers in. The only place that now offers him peacefulness.    He is aware that he still calls it yours, even though your stay was brief, and you will never again reside there. But it holds so much of your scent still.

   He sits there for hours sometimes, forgetting time all together as he drinks in your skin, hair, the faint lavender scent of your own sheets which you brought with you to this bed. He wonders how long it will take before he will no longer recall the softness of your lips. He thinks of them often, in the hopes that the memory might remain fresh to his senses for a little longer.

   But after only one week, his resolve is already faltering. He dreams of you. Wakes up screaming and drenched in sweat at the memory of his teeth embedded in your soft and tender flesh.    And other times, when the dream has been wonderful… he wakes up erect, longing so desperately for the mere touch of your skin against his own, that he cannot refrain from pleasuring himself to the very thought.

   This does not shame him, though. He is much too old to concern himself with the public perception of what is considered right or wrong among the many varieties of carnal pleasures.    The modern world would likely frown at his history of dalliances, as he has always been a man of omnivorous taste. He has never coveted children, but gender has never been an obstacle to pleasure, in his eyes.

   He has found that women offer a comfort and an emotional closeness that the males with which he has explored enjoyment in the past, have not given as freely. But this was long ago. The world has changed much since then, and gender appears to have become less rigid of late, which Oberyn finds most agreeable.    Still, it’s in a woman’s embrace he has most often felt at home and wanted, beyond that of the carnal.

   And then there is you.    His Valya, though his only by name, not commitment. The first person ever to command such control over his mind and senses. He feels almost enslaved by your very being, as though your mere existence demands his servitude.    And surprisingly, he has no objections to this.

   A terrible fatigue and weariness with the centuries upon centuries of managing himself, always fearful that a moment’s loss of control will result in carnage, has taken root within his being, and will not be untethered.    It festers there, making him increasingly agitated, whilst also draining him of all desire and every grain of levity that he had once possessed.

   But in your company, all this turns pale, irrelevant and silenced. You have freed his heart and brought light back to his soul, and now that he has felt it once more, he cannot stand the loss.    The slow, but still so noticeable, reversion to that caged and lonesome man who spends every waking moment fearing the dragon more than any man who might encounter him.

   Still, you are not as a drug to him. He does not crave you the way a drinker craves the bottle, enslaved by the need to consume, dull, and forget. Instead, he feels only brightened, strengthened and awakened by you.    In your presence, Oberyn comes alive, for the first time in ages feeling stronger than the beast, and therefor less controlled by it.

   Every waking moment, his mind looks for ways to relate to you. Everything he sees, smells, touches, it all somehow becomes about you, because that is how dearly he misses you.    And it’s getting worse.    Each day, he battles with himself over whether he has just cause to seek you out once again, and every day, pushing the victory to your favor becomes that much harder.

   He knows that he will eventually fail, because even if he flew to the other side of the world, there would be nothing to stop him from returning. Your house, work and people are known to him, so the day that he eventually fails to convince himself that you are always safer away from him, he will have no trouble finding you.

   It was you that kissed him. He did not ask you to. And that is the carrot which forever dangles before his lips, sweetening his thoughts with the notion that you might do so again, if given a chance.

-=<>=-=<>=-=<>=-

   It takes three weeks before you begin to be able to walk around outside your own house after dark, without fighting panic at the sight of every deep dark shadow, expecting to see golden eyes glowing as they stalk you.    The fear is still there, but with every day that passes without any sighting of the serpent, you’re starting to become less controlled by it.

   You tell yourself that he wouldn’t have let you go just to come after you again, that would’ve been pointless.    But you also wonder if the woman who’d owned this house before you, and who’d vanished without a trace one day over eight years ago, had really wandered off and gotten lost like people think, or if she too could’ve encountered your captor.

   All in all, over the past fifty years, the Seven Hills have claimed nearly thirty lives, half of which have been accidents when people have underestimated the danger of some of the trails, falling to their deaths over cliff-edges, or simply getting lost.    But the other half are unaccounted for. People who just vanished out there. Assumed to have fallen into crevasses or perhaps been buried under mudslides. Natural events.

   If Oberyn hadn’t brought you back, you would’ve become part of that statistic. Which is a frightening thought.    It’s all frightening. Just the reality that dragons aren’t a myth is enough to make you shiver in your bed when you’re trying to sleep, which you haven’t been able to do much of recently.    Fortunately, the holidays are tightly packed at this time of year, so you have no problems staying busy.

   The city council made a brilliant move around a decade ago, with the decision to create a separate account for all profits earned by tourism. The Seven Hills isn’t a city which depends financially on tourism, so it didn’t affect the overall economy. And the brilliance of this move, lay in what that money has since been earmarked for.    Which is celebrations.

   Holidays, anniversaries, and other significant events are all celebrated with parades, formal balls or just big parties, all at the expense of that one account.    The idea had come from a police officer, who had been concerned about a steady incline of violent crimes, and her hope had been that people who have fun together might be less likely to harm one another. Which had happily turned out to be correct.

   So, when you wake up on Thanksgiving morning, having managed to scrape together a handful hours of decent sleep, it isn’t a family dinner you’re planning on going to.    Not that you have any family to celebrate with, even if you’d wanted to. You were an angel baby, left at the front steps of the local church when you were just days old.    The woman who’d ended up raising you had been lovely, and your relationship with her had been good, right up until she’d died shortly after you’d turned sixteen.

   After that, the city had become your family, albeit a distant one. You like your coworkers and you do hang out with them outside of work now and then, but you’re not close. You don’t talk to them about personal stuff.    Perhaps because you’d started your life being abandoned, that’s what you’ve come to expect from everyone, so you shield yourself from caring too much. From letting people in.

   Which is why Oberyn’s betrayal hit you so hard. Because you did let him in. Against the wisdom of all your experience and even the fact that you had literally no reason at all to trust him, you’d told him everything that you never tell anyone.    In just a few days, he’d somehow managed to make you feel safer with him than with any other person you’ve ever met, and he’d done that despite knowing that he was the one who’d almost killed you.

   “Stop it…” you tell yourself, closing your eyes for a moment over your morning tea, because you’d promised yourself that you’re not gonna let him ruin this day.

   Not Thanksgiving. Not the one day of the year specifically dedicated to remembering and celebrating the positives.    This year, the city’s celebration is gonna be a ball at the old courthouse. It’s the fanciest building in town, made of stone and actually resembling a castle more than anything you’d normally associate with legal matters.

   It was commissioned in the late 1800’s by a wealthy lord who wanted criminals to know just how far removed from greatness they were, so he had every piece of metal within the courthouse coated with gold and silver, and every chair was made for comfort and splendor. Except the one offered to the accused, which was just the simplest and cheapest wooden chair that could be made.

   Because of the small fortune of precious metals, the house was prone to burglary and vandalism, so over time, its splendor lessened and by the time they stopped using it, some fifty years later, it was far from the opulence of its original state.    But around thirty years ago, the city decided that since it’s a historic building, it should be preserved, and spent two years and a lot of money on restoring it. And while the metals are fake these days, it still looks every bit as pretentious as it was always meant to.    It’s a perfect venue for any kind of party, though. And especially a ball.

   You’ve had a dress picked out and ready since before Halloween, but because you’re also part of the crew for this event, you won’t be putting it on until you’re already there. It’s packed and ready, along with some makeup and hair styling stuff, all of which you’ll need to remember to bring so that you can get changed once your work is done.    All the staff from the shop try to help out for these kinds of events because you’re the town’s experts on decorations, and you all enjoy getting to apply your skills on a bigger scale now and then.

   The party starts at 4 pm, with the mayor of the city giving his annual thankfulness speech, which is never as dull as it sounds, because the mayor is a former standup comedian, of all things. And although he’s pushing seventy now, he still knows how to work a crowd and get a good mood going.    After that, the dance begins. It’s a blend of classics like foxtrot and waltz, as well as line dance and even hip-hop, but the first one is always a traditional square dance.

   Everyone who lives here knows that one, because if you chose not to participate in the first dance, hardly anyone will talk to you for the rest of the evening because they’ll assume that you’re a person who just hates fun.    You know that because you made that mistake as a teenager.    After the dance, when everyone’s gotten their appetite going, the Thanksgiving dinner is served, and then the program ends and people can just hang around or go home.

   You arrive at the courthouse shortly before 9 am, after tending to Casper and triple checking that you remembered everything, finding two of your colleagues already there.

   “Hey, Boo,” Simon calls to you as you walk in with your bags.

   It’s a nickname you’ve earned over time, by managing to individually scare every one of your coworkers into falling to the floor, just by saying “boo”.

   “Hey, Si. How are we doing?” you answer, dropping your stuff in a corner and then looking over the boxes of decorations.

   “We brought all the labelled boxes, and Kelli remembered the glitter cannons.”

   “What about the balloons?”

   “Oh, yeah, Micah’s already working on those,” he says, and gestures casually towards an unspecified area of the building.

   “Great, then I’ll get started on the leaves and garlands. Unless you want help with the tables?” you ask, looking out over the large open space that had once been the waiting hall and grand foyer.

   It had been made to look like something out of the roman empire, with giant marble pillars recessed into the walls, serving no purpose other than to add to the grandeur of the room.    The hall cuts through the entire length of the building, perhaps a hundred yards long, and easily thirty yards wide, with a curved ceiling around fifteen feet off the floor at the center, and five big crystal chandeliers dangling from up there.

   It’s full of tables today, but the size of the room makes them look like something from a dollhouse.    In contrast, the empty courtroom which will serve as the dancehall, looks smaller than it is.

   “Nah, I’m good. You get going on that, I’ll let you know if I need your help,” Simon replies, so you smile and nod, before grabbing a box and setting off to the right where the big double doors to the courtroom stand open.

   It’s fun work, getting to decorate a place like this, and while all four of you initially work separately, soon enough, you’re all helping Simon in the foyer, because the tables always take longest and requires the most precision.

   “You know, you really didn’t need to bring your makeup, Boo,” Kelli says when you’re working side by side on the finishing touches of the table decorations.

   “What do you mean?” you ask her, but you have an idea of where she’s going with this.

   “Look, I don’t know where you went, but if it’s true that you were just lost in the woods, then you must’ve found the fountain of youth or something.”

   She doesn’t sound envious or even annoyed, just disappointed, and you want to retort so badly. To rebel against the notion that you’ve lied about getting lost in the woods just to cover up a trip to some fucking beauty clinic, or whatever.    But you can’t, because you can’t explain the change in your appearance.

   “Oh, I found something…” you say between tight jaws, unable to hold back your frustration at the mere thought of the slithering serpent.

   She can tell from your tone that asking any further questions isn’t gonna end well, so she changes the topic, instead getting back to the evening and how excited she is.    But when the time comes for the four of you to get ready, you find yourself standing there in your dress, staring in the mirror at the face that isn’t yours, and yet, is somehow also the perfect you.

   Not perfectly symmetrical or flawless in that kinda way, but just… perfect in a sense of natural beauty, perhaps.    Kelli’s right, putting makeup on is basically redundant, since there’s nothing really to improve. And if you’d had a choice in the matter, it might not have felt so artificial. But it does. It feels anything but natural.

   “Not today,” you remind yourself, meeting your own eyes in the reflection. “You can wallow as much as you want tomorrow, but today, you’re thankful to be alive and to have all the comforts you need.    And for Casper, your white knight. Even though he ran away.”

   When you walk back out into the grand hall, you’re met by the sight of people pouring in through the massive, double oak doors, in a slow and happily chatting procession. They’re allowed to sit at the tables if they want to, even though dinner isn’t for several hours yet, since there are only a few stone benches available throughout the building for anyone needing to rest their legs.

   Everyone knows who you are, so as you make your way through the crowd, you’re met with greetings and polite nods, but also a lot of slightly stunned and gaping faces as they look you over. You try to ignore it and just focus on finding your colleagues, but soon enough, you’re hearing people whispering about you as you pass them.    And suddenly you’re regretting picking such a glamorous dress.

   It’s golden in color, which you’d picked because of how perfectly it compliments your skin tone, but which now makes it feel flamboyant and excessive.    But it’s also the simplicity of it that drew you to it. There aren’t any garnishes, it’s just a softly flowing fabric that hugs your form in a very gentle and comfortable way. Not too tight anywhere, not restricting your movements at all, since the skirt is designed to make it look like liquid gold in motion.

   By the time you reach Simon, standing at the door to welcome people, you’re regretting having come here at all today.

   “Hey… are you alright?” he asks when he sees you, and while you notice that he too roams over your form with wide eyes, unlike everyone else, he doesn’t comment on it, and his gaze returns to your face with a concerned wrinkle between his brows.

   “Everyone looks at me like I’m a freak,” you whisper, dropping your head forwards to not have to see anyone’s scrutiny anymore.

   Ordinarily, you wouldn’t be particularly concerned about people’s opinion of you, and again, if this change had been your choice, you could’ve held your head high and ignored them.    But since it wasn’t, you’re left feeling unfairly judged, and knowing that you’re also incapable of defending yourself on this matter just makes it that much worse.

   Instead of trying to comfort you by telling you that there’s nothing wrong with you, Simon turns away from the crowd and gives you a long and firm hug. Because that’s the kind of person he is. He suffers from terrible anxiety himself, something he’s learned to live with and knows how to manage for himself, but which also makes him really good at understanding that words can be powerless against feelings sometimes.

   You thank him before he lets you go, because he’s already made you feel better, and he just smiles in return before getting back to work. You stay there next to him, letting his calm and positive energy infect you while you try to avoid looking at any one person for too long as you help him welcome them to the celebration.    The mayor is the only one who stops to shake your hands and thank you for your work, before he steps inside and prepares to deliver his speech.

   As always, he executes it with practiced ease and has the crowd in tears of laughter before the end, even though he’s managed to fit in serious things like being thankful for the continued decline in crime rates, or how well the city has recovered after a local factory had burned down six months ago.    He finishes by encouraging everyone to step over to the courtroom for the dance, and everyone does.

   The wonderful thing about dancing is that no one cares all that much what anyone else is wearing or how they look, as they move across the floor together. It’s just about having fun and letting the rhythm take you.    Still, once the square dance is done, Simon kindly comes to your rescue when no one on the floor offers to pair up with you for the next dance, which is a foxtrot.

   He’s not the best dancer in the room, but again, none of that matters as the point is to let go of expectations and enjoy yourselves free of judgement.    He doesn’t step away when the song ends and you’ve taken your bows, preparing to lead you on for the next one as well, but just as you take your positions, there’s a voice to your right.

   “May I cut in?”

   You stop breathing at the mere sound of it. The voice that’s haunted your thoughts and dreams for weeks now, the voice that heats your blood and sends shivers along your skin.

   “Uh… sure,” you hear Simon hesitantly agree, since you’re not objecting, and then step away.

   Still not breathing, you look up as the much taller Oberyn takes his place, confidently taking your waist and then your hand, sending sparks through you with his mere touch.    He looks exactly the same, donning his customary green coat and black trousers, as suitable at a black-tie event as they’d seemed in the dark and mysterious castle.

   The coat is one of those stand-up collar ones, with around fifteen silk buttons leading from his Adam’s apple down to his waist, where the weight of the fabric holds the two sides close together down to just below his knees.    And the sleeves stop over the base of his hands, not at the wrist, so whatever he might be wearing underneath, no one can see it.

   The only other time you’ve been this close to him (aside from the kiss) was when he’d carried you inside that first day, and you hadn’t been paying this close attention to him then.    But you are now. Because you wholeheartedly suspect him of being a monster underneath those clothes.    Still, not one bone in your body is telling you to run.

   “Breathe, Kaivalya,” he whispers close to your ear, and your body responds as if it had been a command, desperately filling your lungs until you start to feel dizzy.

   “You… you shouldn’t be here,” you whisper back, just as the dance begins and he starts to waltz you around the room as elegantly as if he’d been a professional dancer.

   “No, I really shouldn’t,” he agrees, and then pauses before adding: “But I can’t stop thinking about you.”

   The air flowing over his skin as he moves sends his natural fragrance straight into your nostrils, and it makes your knees weaken, stoking the heat that already simmers somewhere in your gut, clouding your thoughts with desire.    But it’s that feeling that gives you the strength to push away from him.    It scares you. The hypnotic way that you react to him. And that fear is enough to give you back your senses.

   You step back, almost colliding with another dancing pair, and when he lets go of you, you turn and start to make your way to the exit.    The air suddenly feels thick and hard to inhale, strangling you as you try to free yourself of the crowd, the music, and the strange sensation of your brain being caged by your own senses.

   Reaching the brisk winter air outside of the main entrance, you stop, holding on to a lamppost at the top of the stairs not to fall over with how dizzy you feel.    A hand comes to rest on your shoulder, but it isn’t Oberyn’s. Simon has noticed what’s happened and followed you outside. He’s a good guy, and you can imagine how that scene in there must’ve looked to him. But you would’ve preferred it if he’d left you alone this time.

   “Who is that guy, Boo? You want me to get rid of him?” he asks, but before you can answer, you feel him twitch and pull away from you.

   “You could not remove me however hard you tried, boy,” Oberyn says, and you can hear a dark tinge to his voice now.

   But it’s not arrogance. It sounds more like… jealousy.

   “That’s not up to me. If my friend doesn’t want you here, then you’re not staying, and I’ve got plenty of people here that’ll back me up if I ask them,” Si persists, entirely undeterred by the other man’s superiority.

   There’s a slightly possessive edge to the way he says “my friend” which would ordinarily have made you feel appreciative of his protectiveness, because you’re not actually that close. But today, it makes you feel like a toy being fought over, and you don’t like it.    You straighten up, having finally gotten yourself under control, just in time to see the serpent step closer to your colleague.

   “That’s enough, both of you!” you call out to get their attention. “Simon, go back inside.”

   “Boo-…” he begins to protest, but you cut him off.

   “I just needed some air, I’m fine. Please, just go so that we can talk.”

   He hesitates, throwing a suspicious glance at the other man, but then does what you’ve asked. Because in the end, he knows that you’d never agree to be alone with someone that you fear might hurt you.    But the things is, you do fear that Oberyn might hurt you. You just also need answers, badly enough that you’re prepared to demand them now that he’s here and can answer you.

   “I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you either,” you admit once the two of you are alone. “But I’m pretty sure that we have very different reasons why.”

   He remains at a respectful distance now that you’re not dancing, and you notice that the heat from before is starting to fade, leaving you exposed to the winter chill.    You cross your arms over your waist to keep them warm. There are no sleeves on your dress, so the slight breeze is already threatening to make you shiver.    Why is it that whenever you’re around this man, you’re either too hot or too damned cold?

   “What are your reasons, my lady?” he asks, and his voice is soft now.

   Not inviting or seductively soft, but more like it’s been subdued by worry and trepidation.

   “I need to know… what you are,” you say quietly, watching his face without blinking for fear that you might miss some revealing detail.

   But his features remain unchanged, and no answer seems to come to his lips, so you step closer while trying to fortify yourself against something, but you’re not even sure what.

   “Are you the one that bit me?” you ask, damned near choking on the last two words, but still, he remains statuesque before you, driving your fear into frustration. “Damned it, you owe me answers, Oberyn! Tell me the truth…… Are you the serpent?”

   For what seems like one endless moment, he merely stares back at you. But then, ever so slowly, a terrible sadness begins to flood his eyes.    He bows his head and closes them, perhaps trying to stop the feeling, but it just spreads. Spilling into his brows and forehead, and then down to his cheeks and mouth.    It’s subtle, and yet so distinct. So unmistakably sorrowful, as if drawn from the sky and the deepest recesses of the earth, filling every cell of his being with a pain unlike anything you’ve ever seen.

   “I will not ask your forgiveness… I could never earn such a thing,” he says, speaking so quietly now that you have to step even closer just to hear him. “I ask only that you believe me when I say that I never wanted to hurt you.”

   He opens his eyes again, and when he finds you standing closer, he backs away and shifts his hands behind his back, as if trying to keep them from reaching for you.

   “I saw you running, and I tried to distract myself by going after Casper, but it was too late. I had already caught your scent,” he explains, and you’re mildly impressed that he isn’t making excuses or trying to convince you that he’s worthy of redemption.

   “And if I were to run away now?” you wonder, trying to understand how the man and the beast are connected.

   “I would let you,” he replies quickly, clearly eager to make you feel as safe as you can around him. “In my human form, my human instincts are in control. You are never in danger from… me.”

   “But if you were to become that thing right now…?” you press on, still far from convinced of your own safety.

   He thinks on that for a moment, and there seems to be something uncertain to his conclusion.

   “The real reason why I sedated you for the journey home, was because I needed to fly you back,” he begins, and you can’t stop the sharp gasp and the two steps that you stumble backwards, away from him, as you hear that. “But even the beast is enchanted with you now, Valya.    I want only to protect you, no matter what form I might take,” he finishes, unable to keep himself from coming closer and extending a hand to you.

   “No, you stay away from me,” you warn, stepping back further.

   He stops cold, and the sorrow in his eyes transforms into something you can only describe as the purest pain imaginable. It cuts and tears at your heart, because even though he did hurt and lie to you, he doesn’t deserve to suffer this severely for it.    But however much you might want to ease his pain, you don’t know how, because you can’t reconcile with what he’s done to you.

   “As you wish, my lady,” he says, and his voice breaks at each word.

   He straightens himself, and then bows fully, dropping his entire torso halfway forwards in a perfect display of submission. And when he rises again, tears have filled his eyes to the brim.

   “Always…” he adds in a barely audible whisper, and then he turns and starts to walk down the front steps of the courthouse.

   The air cools significantly as he departs, and you wonder if that’s just your senses tricking you, or if he really does warm his surroundings by his presence alone.    Then, just as he reaches the ground, a faint glow appears in the sky, maybe a hundred feet to his left, and seems to swoop down over him.    He sees it, and stops walking to follow its journey with his gaze, as it makes an elegant turn which changes its direction towards you.

   And when it does, you can see that it’s an owl. But not like any you’ve ever seen before. It’s almost transparent, and when it flaps its wings, they seem to leave entire galaxies of stars behind them, fading as quickly as they appear.    It flies straight at you, landing on top of the half-pillar that makes up the corner of the stone railing to the staircase, where it folds its wings back and just stares at you.

   Mesmerized by its large blue eyes, you stare back, feeling as though an infinite mass of knowledge lies within this creature, and that it uses this knowledge to judge you.    It’s about the size of the golden eagle named Marahute in that Disney movie with the mouse rescuers, but the fact that you can almost see through it makes it slightly less imposing.

   If it is judging you in some way, it can’t be too damning a conclusion because you feel no discomfort from the being. In fact, for the entire time it stares at you, you feel nothing at all.    Then suddenly, it opens its wings and takes off with one large leap, fading into nothingness within just one little second.

   “Wow…” you breathe, having completely forgotten your worries for a moment.

   “You saw it?” Oberyn asks from his spot on the ground at the bottom of the stairs.

   “Yeah, it was amazing. What is it?” you wonder, taking your eyes from the sky and back to him, finding him looking extremely puzzled.

   “She is the Sky-spirit: Caelum. But…… humans cannot see her.”

   You stare into his eyes while his words reach you, and the implication behind them slowly sinks in.    The temporary reprieve of your emotional turmoil is wrung from you with ruthless force, and this time, it’s your eyes that are suddenly brimming with tears, your frame that’s brutally tortured by the inescapable truth.

   “What did you do to me…?” you accuse, glaring at him now because all you have left to turn to is anger. “What am I? What did you turn me into?”

   But as horrible as you feel, as much as these thoughts are plaguing you, your feelings still somehow pale compared to the enormity of his.    The knowledge that he’s robbed you of your own reality, seemingly without him even knowing how or understanding why, is mercilessly demolishing him from the inside.

   “I don’t know…” he confesses. “I am so deeply sorry, my dear… I have no answers.”

   Your tears fall as the cold finally creeps into your blood and makes you shiver. Hugging yourself, trying to come to terms with the thought that you don’t know who you are anymore, you feel so lost.    But then the air around you is warmed up once again, and you look up to find Oberyn before you. He takes you in his arms and hugs you close, flooding your body with that same heat as before, even now when you’re in too much distress to feel anything good.

   “But I will not stop until I have found them,” he promises, then he kisses your temple, pulls away, and with a gust of wind, he’s suddenly just gone.

Part 5

The Ten Spirits of the World Air - Forest - Water - Stone - Night - Autumn - Winter - Spring - Summer. (No, I didn't miss one. You'll see.)

Thank you so much for reading and I hope you enjoyed it! If you wish to be notified when this story is updated, follow @sirowsky-stories and turn on notifications, or just ask nicely, and I'll tag you.

@kittenlittle24 @joelswritingmistress @pedrostories

[thestobingirlie]

i hate how theyre trying to make the supplemental media canon, especially when it counteracts established canon, either from the show or other supplemental media.

but the stranger things creatives dont seem to know the meaning of the word "canon" because they counteract previously established canon in the show.

take the atmosphere of the upside down.

in s1, it's well established that the atmosphere is toxic. lab employees use full hazmat suits and breathing apparatus when they're even going near the gate, let alone through it. joyce and hopper are given the same equipment when they go to get will. will is obviously very sick from the atmosphere.

in s2, the toxic atmosphere remains. hopper gets sick after spending a night in the tunnels. he then has to be decontaminated in the lab by agents in hazmat suits. when owens shows him the gate, they're all wearing hazmat suits. when steve and the kids go into the tunnels, they all wear makes and goggles.

but in s4, it's fine. steve, eddie, nancy and robin spend hours running around the upside down trying to escape, and none of them seem concerned about the toxic atmosphere, or that steve has open wounds in a toxic atmosphere. the kids don't pick up on it either. then they go back into the upside down again without anything to protect them from the atmosphere, and we're supposed to believe that they're just fine afterwards.

i honestly think the duffers have just forgotten, and also can’t be arsed lol.

i guess maybe they also kind of needed to tone down the upside down being toxic so no one really questions how vecna (still human despite looking like that and being dickless) managed to survive down there for so long.

steve just has canonical magical healing powers atp, because that boy should be dead lmao. running around open wounds. barefoot. not a care in the world. doesn’t even get his wounds checked. and stobancy got strangled for about half an hour. and somehow they don’t even have bruises lol.

[jeniffercheck]

Everybody moved on I stayed there (Karolina’s cramps hitting while they’re literally all on a private jet over the ocean and shiv helping her) (this may or may not be prompt if you want it)

a cute little one-shot for u under the cut!!! thank you for the prompt<333

words: 1.3k !!!

“Did you get that, Karolina?”

Karolina looks up from her notepad, an expectant Frank staring right at her. She tries to remember what it is he’d just said, something about stock market perception and if they should get out ahead, but ahead of what?

“Uh, yeah, I think—um,” she stammers her way through, poorly biding herself time, and stone-faces herself through another vicious twisting inside her abdomen, it taking everything in her not to cry out. She can feel the eyes on her, watching, as if she’s the only person in the room who could possibly have an answer.

“She already said it’s a non-starter.”

Shiv. All eyes are now on the redhead, whose rolling eyes are poking out from behind an issue of The New Yorker. Frank looks from Shiv and back to Karolina, she thinks if he were any smarter, he’d be suspicious. She also thinks if he were any smarter, he could tell she hasn’t been listening to a word he’s said for the past fifteen minutes.

“Right, thank you, Shiv,” Karolina says, and she scrambles, still trying to bide enough time for her mind to catch back up. “I just think, you know—if we want the public perception to stick with us, then—”

“You wanna know what I think?” Shiv interrupts, the magazine now in her lap.

“Not really,” Roman chimes in, obviously inconsolably bored since Gerri isn’t on this trip to torture. Karolina’s inconsolably tortured since Gerri isn’t around to buffer.

“Tough shit,” Shiv says as she leans forward. “Why are we bringing attention to it? A security guard got caught insider trading because he decided to fucking Watergate in the twenty-first century, so we fired him. That’s the response.”

Shiv eyes Karolina as she leans back, quirking an eyebrow. To everyone else, it must look like a challenge. To Karolina, Shiv’s just thrown her the ball.

“I hate to say it, but she has a point,” Roman says. “What kind of security guard forgets that we have, like, actual security?”

“Fine, say we’re covered on that end,” Frank says, “That doesn’t solve the issue of the stolen files.”

Karolina feels like she’s back in high school and just got caught doodling, put on the spot for a cold call about a chapter in the book she didn’t even know existed.

“Uh—do we have Gerri’s read on this yet?” Karolina asks. “We can’t say anything until we know the legal implications.”

Safe. Legalities are always a safe bet.

“She’s meeting us at the office after we land,” Karl says. “Ideally, we’ll have a statement or two prepared if we need to move.”

A statement or two. As if that’s not a whole day’s worth of fucking work, and they want her to do it in the middle of a plane ride, and go to the office after, all the while her stomach feels like it’s being carved out by a fucking spackle knife. She takes a deep breath, knowing it probably looks like stress rather than feeling like she could be meeting her untimely death by way of menstruation, but she takes a shot.

“Okay, well—if he’s threatening to expose, then that’s extortion on top of insider trading,” she says. “Blackmailers aren’t protected by whistleblowing laws, it’s simple.”

“And if he exposes us on his way to the big house?” Roman asks.

“Then, he’s a disgruntled employee who got caught with his fucking dick out and we say he’s lying,” Karolina says. “It’s not rocket science, boys.”

All three men look at each other, clearly surprised by the slight outburst. She doesn’t really have it in her to care. They’re being dense, and she’s about thirty seconds away still stuck in this conversation from puking up her guts.

“Well?” Karolina asks.

“Nothing,” Karl says, sharing a look with Frank. “Couldn’t have said it better myself.”

“You’ll write that down?” Frank asks, and Karolina nods sharply, her gaze resuming on her notepad and her laptop. She stares at the blank word processor, willing the words to just come to her, but the pounding in her head is getting worse and the ache that was supposed to dull as a result of four painkillers is still rampant inside her, and she knows she’s getting closer to not being able to hide the pain.

It’s then that she feels a nudge against her arm, something like the pages of a magazine, and she turns her head to face Shiv, eyes less calculating and much more concerned than they seemed to be only moments ago.

“Can I run something by you?” Shiv asks quietly, gesturing behind her. The thought of getting up feels like voluntary torture, and even though she’s not a masochist, she is still a somewhat unofficial handler of the three heirs to the throne, and she and Shiv had promised each other they’d act normal. To not draw attention. So, giving in to a Roy child’s every demand, even if that demand is to go into the back of the jet and run something by her, is normal.

“Sure,” Karolina nods. She stands slowly, thankful the place is small enough for her to use her hand to brace herself against the wall without it being a big deal, and she follows Shiv into the jet’s only bedroom, grateful Roman had already put on headphones and closed his eyes before he could see them retreating.

It’s only a matter of seconds before that deep pain rolls through her again, and ss soon as Shiv locks the door, Karolina tries to get straight to business.

“What’s this about?” she asks, patience wearing especially thin.

“You looking paler than Karl when he saw the Q3 report,” Shiv says, “c’mon, sit down.”

Shiv takes Karolina’s hands and guides her to the small bed, and Karolina sits down, her eyes squeezing shut as she does, every movement opening herself back up to a resurgence of the throbbing. A gentle hand meets her forehead and she opens her eyes to Shiv’s worried gaze.

“What’s wrong?” Shiv asks.

“Just a little motion sickness, Shiv, I’ll be fine,” Karolina says. She knows it isn’t convincing, but the last thing she needs is Shiv hovering, especially when they have a newly lit fire to put out.

“I’ve flown with you how many times?” Shiv asks, “And you’ve never gotten sick.”

Karolina doesn’t have the energy to back up the lie, so she doesn’t. Shiv sighs quietly, a kinder sound in place of her usual scoff.

“It’s me, Karolina,” Shiv says. “I won’t tell on you, alright?”

And then Shiv’s hands are rubbing up and down the sides of her arms, and she can’t hold it back anymore. Tears spring to her eyes, despite what’s left of her efforts.

“It’s just—cramps, Shiv,” Karolina says, already embarrassed. “It’s not a big deal.”

Karolina’s tight knuckles and short breath aren’t as convincing as she’d like them to be, but she doesn’t have a choice. It can’t be a big deal, not when there’s work to be done.

“Have you taken anything?” Shiv asks.

“Enough to cause an ulcer,” Karolina says, dropping her head into her hands. She digs her elbows into her stomach, like the pressure will do anything, and the bed dips as Shiv sits down next to her, rubbing a hand across her back.

“Are they always this bad?”

Karolina nods into her hands.

“I have something stronger at home,” Karolina says, lifting her head. “And God knows how long we’ll be stuck at the office.”

It’s just her luck that her period would come early while she’s thirty feet up in the air, on top of the one trip that needs them directly back at the office, but that’s just life. Beyond that, Waystar isn’t exactly the most sympathetic employer when it comes to women’s issues.

“Well, how does this sound—we’ll bang those two plans out together right now, and when we land, I’ll go pick up the medicine,” Shiv suggests.

“Shiv—”

“Karolina, you could barely form a coherent thought back there,” Shiv says. Then, much softer, “Let me make this easier for you.”

Karolina’s brow furrows, whether from the pain or the small show of affection, she isn’t quite sure, but it seems pointless to deny this ask from Shiv, mostly because she’s too exhausted to reason with her, but also because it just feels good.

“Fine,” she says. “Thanks, Shiv.”

Shiv just pushes Karolina’s hair behind her ear, dropping a light kiss on Karolina’s forehead. The action makes her forget all about the aching in her abdomen for just a moment as she leans into the touch, and she wishes she could hold onto the feeling forever.

“You never have to thank me."

[moreespressoformydepresso]

sometimes i think about like. what if. the tributes escape, they're running around, trying to get things together. and somehow they get caught. how, we don't know, but imagine a peacekeeper comes across them and has a choice to make. obviously peacekeepers can't have families, but they weren't born without them. this one peacekeeper, maybe wovey reminds him of his little sister. or hy reminds him of his first love, the one he never got to act on. or he's some fresh young recruit who feels like in another life, the likes of sheaf or otto or whoever could have been a friend.

and he lets them go.

even other capitol citizens. some socialite might be more privy to give facet and velvereen more leeway, after all, they're one of the 'good' districts, aren't they? or a shopkeeper lets mizzen or treech get away with stolen goods because they remind him of his kids. or hell, imagine one of them manages to find work, and the supervisor should have half a mind to report it, but teslee knows what she's doing and she's doing it better than the other suckers, it'd be stupid to report her, even if she *is* an escaped tribute. lots of little things build up over time. a story where 24 kids don't escape on their own, it takes a whole village to help them.

That’s beautiful I love it. I had ideas of like- the mentors maybe letting them go if they spot them or even actively helping them escape in some cases, but just random citizens? That’s honestly even better. Because to me, a big part of why so many Capitol citizens were okay with the games is because they had enough distance to it to not care. It’s a once a year thing they can ignore if they want, and they do. Just some district scum, right? So who cares? And when they’re in a literal cage it reinforces that distance. They’re not “like us”, so it’s okay. No need to spend time and emotional energy thinking about it. Especially after what they did to you during the war ten years ago!

But when you’ve spend years fighting with the belief that you’re protecting your people, and you used the image of scared dying Capitol children to fuel you, I imagine it hits so hard to look at a terrified child staring down the barrel you’ve got pointed at them. Maybe the peacekeeper had a realization that they are the monster they’ve been fighting. And in the split second that they realize convincing themself it’s not true isn’t gonna change anything, they let the tribute go.

Teslee and Circ are 100% better employees than anyone in that city. No rationalizing necessary it’s just basic business. And they don’t even ask for much, so it’s win win! Also they’re nice kids, it would suck to see them suffer or even die and if they go into the games only one can get out. So eh, might as well give them some basic necessities.

I think it would probably start with Velvereen and Facet. They are “the good ones” so if anyone’s gonna be let go it’s them. Maybe it gets filmed or something and it’s broadcast in an attempt to get Capitol citizens to look out for the tributes and tip off the peacekeepers. And that video makes the citizens go “oh well, at least it’s the good ones and not one of those backwards savages”. Except once you accept the notion that some of these kids are fine, that slowly starts to trickle over into your perception of the others. If the ones from 1 are fine, the ones from 2 are too right? Because those get lumped together a lot since they’re more well fed. And the boy from 2 is pretty similar to the ones from 11 and 12 so maybe those districts aren’t too bad either. And if the girl from 11 isn’t so bad, well she’s like the tributes from 8 and the boy from 4. And the girl from 12 is a performer like the boy from 7 (actor/performer Treech supremacy). Soon enough the network is complete and we’ve got all the tributes being noted as kind of okay, maybe. So when a clearly starved child steals food, well the shopkeeper didn’t really need that lost income. They can miss it, so it’s not worth the energy to even report. And it slowly escalates from there until we have a district-sympathizer Capitol.

[hashal-nutcracker]

First of all, WOW you draw fast and really well too!

Questions bomb: Been meaning to ask about your nutcrackers! Will you be making character sheets for them?

Is Hashal the only nutcracker with a split face opening/armour? Also will we learn more about Yvonne?

I know Arthur loved her human family, but how about now? Does she still like humans/is she still friendly?

What is the protocol for each nutcracker when encountering an employee? Is it kill-on-sight or different for them all? What do they do when they aren’t patrolling or killing things?

And ofc, the most important and classic Nutcracker question: Can I hug them? (Or will I get kicked into oblivion)

Keep up the cool art! :)

1: I’ve long wanted to ask about your nutcrackers! Will you be creating character sheets for them?

Yes, of course, I think within a week I’ll be able to fill out everything necessary using my template, I’ll do it in two languages, and I’ll mark each one so that it doesn’t get lost, as they say. The main thing is not to get too carried away, otherwise there are usually kilometers of text, which sometimes gets confusing. But I will definitely touch upon the important events of their lives. -Х-Х-Х-Х-Х-Х-Х-Х-Х-Х-Х-Х-Х-Х-Х-Х-Х-Х-Х-Х-Х-Х-Х-Х-Х-Х-Х-Х-

2: Is Hashal the only nutcracker with a split face/armor? And will we learn more about Yvonne?

ugh.. no, unfortunately Hashal is not the only representative with a split front plate, I had plans for a red cavalryman, since the cavalryman model looked very clumsy and extremely impractical, a lightweight model with less protection and open front parts, usually for protection There were flaps on the collar that went up, since they were usually on horseback. Hashal is a more practical and improved model of these same Cavalrymen. I think that when I write about them, I’ll explain the subtleties

-Х-Х-Х-Х-Х-Х-Х-Х-Х-Х-Х-Х-Х-Х-Х-Х-Х-Х-Х-Х-Х-Х-Х-Х-Х-Х-Х-Х-

3: I know Arthur loved his human family, but what about now? Does she still like people/is she still friendly? Oh yes, now she has extremely strained relations with any of the people, due to the trauma received in the last battle and the murder of the “Grey” family, Arthur remembered the special features of the uniform of that association, unfortunately, the uniform of the workers is partially similar to this very uniform , and it also provokes an invasion of the complex. Yes, I just think that there is a high chance that he can contact people, although for this you obviously need to try -Х-Х-Х-Х-Х-Х-Х-Х-Х-Х-Х-Х-Х-Х-Х-Х-Х-Х-Х-Х-Х-Х-Х-Х-Х-Х-Х-Х-

4: What is each Nutcracker's protocol when meeting with an employee? Is it a murder on the spot or is it different for everyone? What do they do when they're not patrolling or killing?

Yes, they are partially different from each other: Sharak: conducts a patrol on the lower tiers and drives away alien life forms, monsters, in other words, since these three love order, but do not tolerate extreme interference in their space, even if you keep an eye on these nutcrackers, you will notice that sometimes they fiddle with pipes and peer for a long time in the sockets in the generator room, since such systems must be maintained so that they do not lose their functionality. Sharak acts as a messenger, emitting a kind of howl of sirens about a bombing in order to scare away such guests; the first one may not enter into battle, but he will certainly pursue it, besides, employees usually attract the attention of other creatures. What Sharak is definitely not happy to see is people and the slug that leaves more traces behind it. They didn’t teach him to watch his step; he would fall 20 times.

Khashal: Spends most of his time in the main corridors and rooms, patrolling all rooms, and checking the safety of valuable objects, in the presence of employees, he will follow them for some time, and when it comes to robbery, he begins to threaten, losing his march making it clear that they should not touch things in this place. If prejudice doesn’t work, a rifle with 12 rounds in the magazine is used, which he will happily send to employees, in close combat with him it’s also not worth it, in addition to kicking him, he has a saber in a casing, I think it won’t be difficult for him to kill the handle of the shovel, like the employee himself, in two halves

Arthur: can leave the complex, usually commits sabotage and can damage the player respawn system after leaving, which is very unprofitable. Her job is to patrol the roof and inspect the surroundings, do not think that you will be alive in the forest, because traps are useful (Traps like the Vietnam War) Usually they try to eliminate her immediately, but this is not so easy, especially indoors or in wooded areas, her task is to completely destroy everything that breathes during an attack (usually Sharak suffers, which she tries to break once again)

in free time:

Sharak usually chills and cleans his weapons, listening to music and some radio broadcasts that employees dug up from the ship. Everything is smooth, he has nowhere to rush, it’s not bad to play the fool with desires, it should be fun to disgrace himself! Hashal sharpens weapons and makes bandoliers for both comrades, he has a personal station for work and everything he needs, so there is no boredom. But he doesn’t really know how to play cards, so once on a dare I had to dance a waltz with Arthur to the laughter of Sharak, but Khashal can dance and not bad Arthur, who is on guard almost all the time, has his own place where he stands for long hours in a state of waiting and meditation, marches along his trajectory and maintains the traditions of his past family. He can stand with a flag, he also arrives in the library in silence, history books, and about the strategies of that one are more interesting than idleness.

And, of course, the most important and classic Nutcracker question: can you hug them? (Or I'll be thrown into oblivion) I think they won't mind hugs)

[haloabove]

Do you have a personal preference for how Bruce should behave in his civilian and vigilante persona respectively?

For example: Should he play up the dumb himbo angle, should he use excessive violence, does he do talk shows, is he straight/bisexual, etc, does/should he have kids, how is his relationship with Alfred (i.e. employee/employer or father-and-son, I don't mean romantic), is his smile obviously fake or can people not tell,...?

You can answer whatever you like, that list is just to give examples. Would love to hear your own headcanons, too!!

Have a nice day!! <3

Hello!! This is such an amazing question, I’ve been thinking about it for a bit now and here’s what i have for you :D (Its a long one so I’ve put it all under the cut)

I do think Bruce has a bit of a “snobby rich boy” persona especially when it comes to press because he’s overly protective of his privacy and in his mind that also includes his real personality. However, anyone that has spoken to him at events understands that this persona crumbles the moment someone challenges his intelligence. He knows he’s smart and he’s not afraid to show it if someone questions it but until then snobby Bruce stays at the forefront.

Im a strong believer in Bruce being a charming man and he knows how to use it to his advantage. He can talk his way out of any situation, a flash of his smile and a few charming words and people will do anything he wants. So when his company gets bad press or a rumour is spreading about him that he needs to nip at the bud, he’ll slowly increase the press appearances and maybe he’ll flirt with someone and let the media he controls snap a few shots and suddenly he’s working the narrative into something that benefits him and whatever he needs. It’s dirty play but the man never knew how to play clean.

I do think Bruce is bisexual and is fairly open about it but the man has never been in a relationship with anyone long enough to know what fits well for him outside of a purely physical relationship. As for if he has kids, I like to think he has his robins but the Bruce I have in my mind was never made to be a father. That’s not to say he wouldn’t be a good dad if it came down to it but he’s spent so much of his life just him and Alfred that when he has to suddenly stop his very active life for a person who is wholly dependent on him, I just don’t think he’d cope well when it comes to caring for young kids. However, I think he would be much better with older children (like 16-19 year olds) because while children still need affection from parents (which i think he would give in his own way), older teenagers are much less dependent on a parent which is the main aspect he would probably struggle with.

With his relationship with Alfred, I’m a big fan of the (not quite) father-son dynamic for them. Alfred raised Bruce for most of his life and Bruce probably views him as a father figure but will not see him as his father because neither of them will lean into that. Alfred views Bruce as a son he didn’t have, the son that he should never have had to take in. He saw him through the murder of both of his parents and had to emotionally support him through so many major life moments, filling in for where both his parents should’ve stood. At some point, it probably became less about how this is his job and more about keeping Bruce happy and healthy and letting him grow into a person Thomas and Martha Wayne would’ve been proud of.

As for the Batman persona, I’m really not sure about his whole “no-kill” policy because as a vigilante, should he have special rights into taking a criminal’s life but also then we also have to account for the view of should we be killing criminals or rehabilitating them which is a whole other kettle of fish I’m sure Bruce Wayne thinks about a lot. I don’t see why he should be excessively violent but i can understand the concept of equal force of violence. if a criminal knifes an innocent then Batman would have the right to stab them back, I think Bruce would follow this as much as he could but the man is 100% torn up about the ethics of his vigilantism sometimes but if he dwells too much on it then it’ll probably send him into a spiral so he doesn’t.

[lastoneout]

Sorry for the long post but this has been on my mind for a while and I kinda just wanna get it all out, also I am not an authority on this topic nor am trying to be treated as such, this is based on my life and perspective and what I've seen, keep that in mind, but yeah ANYWAY

I still see a lot of people who are tempted to respond to the right's stance on minimum wage by pointing out that no, not all the people working at McDonald's are teenagers who want some walking around money, there are fully grown adult employees trying to support their families and they obviously deserve a living wage, but I can't help but think that's kinda missing the point of what they're really getting at.

They don't actually think there aren't adults working at McDonald's(or poor teenagers who are supporting their family), they know that, they just think if you're working at McDonald's it's because you've done something wrong, and thus you deserve to be punished by society for it(or in the case of the teenagers their parents did something wrong in which case it's justified to punish their whole family, or the teenager did something wrong even bcs see they should be trying to better themselves and if they aren't it means they're making a mistake and deserve to be punished).

People repeat "the cruelty is the point" a lot but I don't think some of us realize exactly how true that is. To the right there is a correct path one's life is supposed to take and any deviation should be punished. When the left says "hey maybe we could fix some of those things that cause people to make mistakes/end up in bad places" the right doesn't listen bcs they don't believe there's anything to fix. Society is working exactly the way it's supposed to, in fact the real problem is that there isn't enough punishment.

To paraphrase an Innuendo Studios video that opened my eyes on this topic if right doesn't care about, say, stopping abortions, not really, they simply want to punish the people who get them. They know their solution won't stop anyone, they know it will just lead to people with uteruses dying or getting sick, but that's fine because good people don't get abortions, good people don't wind up sick or dead, so if you do you must be a bad person, and bad people should be punished.

Ofc they will prove to be hypocrites when they're the ones who need help, justifying why they deserve a safe abortion or whatever bcs they're a good person! They didn't do anything wrong! They're just rectifying a discrepancy! And they don't think of a second that the rest of the people getting abortions are ALSO good people who deserve safe healthcare and happy lives, bcs if there aren't bad people getting punished then how will they know that they're good people??

(It's the same with defending sexual abusers too, those boys are good men who just made a tiny little mistake, or were seduced, or just did what normal men do! We should forgive them bcs they're rich or powerful or white and rich, powerful, white men are good people. Plus, the women...well they made the real mistake by not protecting themselves better. By dressing slutty or going to a bar, and now they're trying to ruin this poor guy's life over their fuck-up? That's the real evil, that's what should actually be punished!)

So if you work at McDonald's as an adult who's trying to support yourself and your family you did something wrong and you should be punished. If you're sick or a victim of sexual violence and need healthcare or an abortion you did something wrong and should be punished. If you come here seeking asylum then you did something wrong and you AND your family should be punished. Things like this don't happen to good people(even though they do), they only happen to bad people, and bad people should be punished.

It's like that Demention 20 clip, about how these people think places like coffee shops should exist BUT it should suck to work there. It sucking is the punishment. The only people working there are ones who've clearly made some sort of mistake, and thus it's correct for them to suffer, because people who make mistakes are bad, and bad people deserve be punished.

Going deeper, to what I think the real root of a lot of this is, it ties back into the fact that the majority of the far right is christian and a lot of christians believe that if they're good and live their lives correctly and pray to god and give the church money good things will happen to them, and the people who are suffering have fallen out of god's favor, and thus are bad people who deserve to be punished. I've been to a lot of churches here in America and trust me, that is EXACTLY what a lot of them preach, basically word for word. Bad things don't happen to good people, so if bad things are happening to you you must have done something wrong, so pray harder, repent, and deal with your punishment until you fall back into god's favor and are thus once again a Good Person.

(That's also why a lot of them will try to convert the people they try to help through charity, bcs they believe if you are christian good things will happen to you. They genuinely think converting people is just as helpful as donating money to a food bank or volunteering at a soup kitchen. Because good things happen to christians, so being one will make your life better...or will at least mean you get to go to heaven when you die and hey, then you won't suffer anymore!)

And ofc you can't point out that a lot of their leaders are fucking hypocrites who don't live by these rules at all and are in fact just asshole capitalists who only care about money and power bcs they pretend to follow the rules and still put those rules into law and that's enough to convince the right to vote for them. It's part of why Trump was right, he could shoot someone in the middle of the street and not lose any votes, bcs his base is convinced he's a Good Person and good people don't do bad things, even when they do.

That's also why horrible laws get passed so easily by them, they just sit there and go "Why are you worried? This will only punish bad people. If you're a good person you won't suffer. And if you're not, well just try to be good, follow our rules, act how we say, then you'll be safe. You have nothing to fear unless you're bad, and you're not bad, are you?" They don't care how cruel they are or how many people suffer because the cruelty and suffering Is The Point.

Idk where I'm going with this anymore or what the solution is but realizing this really made a lot of things about the right Make More Sense and it helps to know that you can't really argue with them by talking about how people are suffering and we should, like, help them, bcs they believe the suffering is correct and justified and the only solution is MORE cruelty and punishment and suffering. They don't care that there are people struggling to pay rent and feed their kids bcs they make less than minimum wage bcs those people shouldn't have a minimum wage job and if they do they made a mistake and should be punished. Unhoused people? Hungry kids who can't afford lunch? Teenagers who need abortions? Families feeing violence and poverty by seeking asylum? Addicts? Victims of abuse? The disabled? They're all bad people who made mistakes and should be punished.

There are only good people and bad people and how will we know who the good ones are if the bad ones aren't suffering and being punished? And the left is crazy bcs they're trying to HELP the bad people. Don't they know the bad people need to be punished? There has to be a clear line between good and bad! Soon they'll make everyone think WE'RE the bad people and that's not true! We're good people, we live our lives the right way, we deserve to be treated as special, to be rewarded, they're trying to take that away from us! Force us to lay down and be treated like bad people, force us to respect the bad people, treat them as equals, treat them like they're better than us, turn our children into bad people, how could they do that?

We have to make sure that the bad people are punished and the good rewarded.

The cruelty IS the point.

[royaletiquette]

continued from [x] | @distopea

It isn't like Hibiko is exactly gentle towards Gabriele, but he also never quite needed it. Neither of them cared to let their guard down often, so maybe it should have been expected for him to not read her tone correctly. She felt dismissed. A small reach for comfort was instead outright rejected. But he didn't answer the question! Did he not care about… hell, any details at all? It was all black and white apparently: who he needed to protect from harm was all there was to it. Which may have been just fine back home, but whatever he was pretending to protect her family from in Germany was not the same here.

Did he assume it was a ploy, like she was testing him for something? It frustrated her to think of Gabriele not taking her concern seriously. Or worse yet, did he understand perfectly what Hibiko was asking, and instead of allowing any words of comfort, was forcing her back a distance? Like what, having an affair was all fun and games, but heaven forbid she reach out for a fucking hug?

The queen leaned back in her seat, still taken off guard by the answer when Gabriele had already moved on.

She wanted to argue against the clothes but wasn't able to quite find the words in time. Taking a couple of clips out her hair, she threw a sweater over the top of her dress to dress it down, and adjusted the hat to better fit her head. She felt ridiculous, but held her tongue as the pout on her face did most of the complaining, getting out of the car.

Being greeted as they entered the store, the employees' Japanese had an easy job of snapping her out of her sulking. The queen was smacked with nostalgia almost instantly, nervous butterflies in her stomach trying to tell her that she'll be okay. If she was out of harms way before, she might have even believed them. Pretending to not know where to go for as long as possible, she's thankful Gabriele is unable to read any signage to point her in the right direction any faster than wandering around would be.

Once in the beauty section, Hibiko was able to focus more, grabbing a couple different shades of red from different brands, and comparing the undertones to what was left on her nails. Looking between them, wanting to go with what she already had, but perhaps something more neutral was better?

Glancing to Gabriele, she was able to catch him in a brief moment of weakness, distracted by the perfume and cologne glasses next to them. Following his eyes, "You can go pick one out if you'd like." A bored tone, happy to steal a few minutes away from his looming presence if he would allow it.

But it wasn't enough. The more that embarrassing moment of attempted open vulnerability played in her head, the more the sight of him got under her skin. She could practically hear him breathing, counting the minutes it took Hibiko to decide. Her disdain for him at that moment took over her anxiety, and decided to do what she knew best: act out.

Being over chatty with the sales person as she went to cash out, she hoped Gabriele being unable to understand them would stun him enough to not interrupt. There was some stuttering on her part, but the conversation flowed naturally. Of course, until Hibiko was paying and was suddenly caught off guard by a simple question: "Where are you from?"

At first, she was caught in a lie she hadn't even told yet. Germany was an obviously incorrect answer, but would it be so horrible to answer here? Then just as quickly, she realized what actually prompted the question: she had an accent. Not only was Hibiko's Japanese a bit out of practice, but she forgot there was this posh dialect to how she spoke that always gave her away when younger. A curse of growing up so far upper class, left over from the days when that distinction was more favorable. How obvious was it now a days, she wondered? Did she sink back into it easily, or was just enough to throw the cashier off in confusion?

The realization stunned her enough to not answer. Instead, she pretended to not hear the question properly, prompting the employee to repeat themselves while Hibiko bought time to think of an excuse. Continuing with the purchase, she spouted out some bullshit with a laugh, deciding to take it as a compliment to her pronunciation. Gesturing to Gabriele with another giggle, Hibiko forced herself out the conversation and grabbed her things.

The smile kept a forced tug on her lips until they left the store, only then allowing her face to fall completely with the immediate repercussions. Prefering to not admit so willingly, Hibiko continued to the car, choosing the front seat this time, as if keeping up appearances still meant anything.

[blueflameswordsman]

left wing empathy

youtube comments

I recall seeing someone spout that if you lose your job to illegal immigrants or you are hindered due to them then you just suck rather then the fact illegal immigration provides cheap labor ( I recall a story that I heard during trumps presidency where a factory lost the illegal immigrant workers so they had to have a hiring event and give out good benefits to the people who would take the offer which they never provided to illegals

left often likes to be self righteous and claim anyone they oppose lacks compassion/empathy rather then their ideas being idiotic and damaging

like claiming that open borders or opposite to ICE arresting illegal immigrants is just compassion when not its

illegal immigration damages the country

they broke the law and snuck through the borders (not to mention abusing/lying systems ( like economic migrants who lie to claim they are asylum seekers)

saying that the people claiming they want asylum should wait outside the country so they can check isn't a lack of empathy ( and to be frank if they went through multiple countries who offered them asylum they are obviously not asylum seekers/lose their right to claim)

america has every right to police their orders and punish illegal immigrants

the notion that what happened with the native Americans ( who were fighting over the land with each other long before pilgrims came) where we conquered their lands somehow means we don't get to restrict the borders is just pure idiocy.

we owe them nothing we do not need to atone for anything or change our border policy because of what happened.

every group of people had bloodshed in the past

I was once told that I lacked “human decency” because I asked for statistics that contributed to the reasoning for defunding the police and wasn’t given any.

It's supposed to be hyperbole, but I've encountered people with this mindset on facebook when talking about unchecked immigration and minimum wage.

The thing is the zeal of the lefts convictions really is a caricature because they're so self-righteous and holier than thou that anyone with a different view is immediately condescended to.

Ironically being 100 times more insufferable than the Christians they disdain so much. Yet while hypocritically giving a free pass to other religions because "muh diversity".

You forgot, "We need to ban guns, to keep kids safe. What do you mean, 'You own a firearm to protect your family?' JUST CALL THE POLICE! (that we just defunded)

Just remember everyone: Tom Brady is racist for winning the superbowl during black history month.

Yes, this was actually tweeted.

Empathy: the ability to understand and share the feelings of another. Left Wing Empathy: “caring” for people who fit and/or help move the lefts political agenda forward.

You forgot their new argument against small businesses:

"If you cannot pay your employees a proper wage, you deserve to be out of business!"

3 years ago Also heard "If you can't factor in crises' like this pandemic then you didn't deserve to be in business in the first place. Walmart is also supposedly now good because my handlers told me it is. Until I'm arguing about minimum wage laws then they're the bad guy again."

the problems with the $15/H minimum wage are 1)employers will just fire people and cut the hours off the ones they keep so they earn about the same, while making them work harder (iirc Target did this exact thing some time ago), and 2)a lower-paying job beats not having a job at all.

[localcatbehaviourguy]

My experience with Jay's Prehistoric Pets

My family used to go there all the time when I was little to see all the animals because it was free to enter. We stopped when I was around seven for reasons you will soon find out. Here's what I remember.

A lot of the animals were thin and he live-fed every single one. I get that some snakes apparently won't eat frozen/thawed prey, but it was every single one. Live feeding is an ethical issue due to the distress it can cause the prey. When live feeding, you also need to closely supervise to a) make sure the snake eats the prey quickly to avoid distress for the prey, and b) because scared prey may fight back and if that happens, they can seriously hurt the snake so you need to be able to intervene. But they gave every snake, even species that are usually, if not always, okay with eating f/t, a live mouse and then, before the snake ate the mouse, they would walk away and wouldn't supervise. If the snake got attacked or didn't feel like eating, that would be a massive issue. I'm not a snake handler, but I know I wouldn't leave my cat alone in a room with a rodent due to how the rodent could damage my cat (and my sympathy towards the rodent.) I feel like you don't leave a pet in a risky situation like that. That feels unnecessary and really, just lazy.

There were red-eared slider turtles you could feel. Another customer saw me and my brother, both very little, and warned our parents that we couldn't touch the turtles because they would bite. There was no notice posted and no employee was warning people about biting reptiles in a room full of children. Also, if a reptile has a habit of biting when touched, which is entirely reasonable, they shouldn't be in a free-roam situation where someone can provoke them to bite. They bite out of self-defense or to protect their boundaries, and they probably bite because the situation distresses them- they had no hides, they were in a fountain like at Chinese restaurants with the koi, so it was hard for them to escape the situation- so don't put them in that situation. Not good for the reptiles and not good for the kids.

And the monitors

Oh gods, the monitors.

They had at least one, usually two, massive (bigger than me) monitor lizards free-roaming the floor at all times. A monitor is a very large lizard and can easily cause a lot of damage when distressed, untrained people should never been freely interacting with them. But they were free to roam. It was probably frightening for them. They're surrounded by loud children and massive adults and they have no hide, they probably also got kicked or stepped on way more than necessary. Which leads me into why we stopped going.

One of those monitors, easily three or four feet long, crawled under my baby brother's stroller while we were there. Now that I think about it, he was probably just looking for a hide. But obviously we couldn't have that massive, powerful reptile underneath a baby's stroller, so they had to get it out from under the stroller. My dad and another guest had to pick up the stroller (it was one of those big ones meant to last multiple kids) and carry it away to get the monitor out from under it. Dad could not get close enough to unbuckle my brother due to the dinosaur who he understood would protect itself if it felt like he was threatening it, so they lifted the stroller with him inside of it. Where were the staff? Watching without a care in the world. If anyone should have intervened there it should have been the keepers who have experience with the animal and should know how to handle situations like this if the animal is going to free-roam, but it was on my parents and a small group of concerned parents to figure this out while the employees just watched. Of course, seeing how they treat animals in videos, they probably would've dragged the poor thing by its tail, harming it and putting my brother in danger.

Yeah, we stopped going after that.

It's not surprising to me that I googled that place years later to find all of the controversy about them mistreating animals. Hopefully, since I don't see much about them endangering guests, the monitors no longer free-roam and are instead in an enclosure to be admired from afar. But yeah, that place was probably one of the worst zoos I've ever been to.

[my-makeshift-masquerade]

It All Comes Back to Haunt You (Part 3)

@glitchysquidd

(I am sorry, but the next chapter of Into the Breach will come next I swear… This will highlight some obvious plot-holes, include more characters, and other things… Aight let’s make shit hit the fucking fan.)

It was the first shift for her since Tim and Samantha hired her on. Rebecca was too worried to focus on work right now. Henry and Micheal had been…too okay…with the concept of her father being here. They were quiet. They were planning something, but what? Obviously the fire thing never happened, because she pointed out other innocent people were probably going to be in the building, but what else could they be thinking—

“Hey, kid, can I talk to you for a sec?”

The employee she had become fast friends with snapped her out of her thoughts.

“Sure, uh…” The teen mumbled, “Where’s Dave?”

“Uh. Fucking around somewhere, I dunno.”

“Okay…? W-what do you want to tal—“

“So… You are Rebecca Afton, right?”

She was taken aback by the question, but nodded slowly. It was a bad idea to trust this person with such information, but after keeping quiet for so long, Rebecca’s need for connection outweighed her sense of self preservation by a hair.

“I was up last night thinking, reviewing the true crime podcast… It just doesn’t line up.” Her coworker paused, “Not that I think you’re lying or anything since you look just like the kid they showed but…”

“Y-Yes…?” She was becoming more fearful with every second of silence.

“Your dad tried to kill you in like…1986… It’s 2023…” They stopped for a moment to double check their head math, “Forget calculating your actual age. You should be way older. How the hell do you look so…so…young?”

That was a very fair question, and she was honestly surprised how long it took even her father to do the fucking math here. He clearly knew what year it was, yet he didn’t comment on her supernaturally youthful appearance at all. Rebecca figured it wasn’t a detail he was analyzing right now. She realized she could only shrug in response to the inquiry…

“Yeah, I…I have no idea why I seem to be aging so…slowly…” The young looking woman admitted, “I was hoping to ask Charlie, but it is taking me a while to fix—“

“Who?”

“Oh, uh… Charlotte. She’s Henry Emily’s daughter… like the ring leader of the ghosts.” Rebecca said this far too casually, mixing flavoring into her water, “Yeah, she’s chill… Just—understandably protective of the others…”

“Sure, right… Then also… What happened to your dad? Do you even know?” Her coworker frowned, “Dave is in the springlock suit now so clearly whatever happened on the night he tried to off you didn’t like—kill him—“

Damn. They really are “balls deep in denial” as Micheal put it. Yet they seemed head over heels for her dad. She guessed pining for a serial killer grants amazing cognitive dissonance…

“Yeah…” Her voice trailed off, “Not sure on that one… Just glad it was over…”

“Sorry. Am I prying too much?”

“No, no… You aren’t the first. My whole upteenth highschool class found out and none of those idiots did the math… Those who did just think I’m a liar.” She laughed nervously, “I’m just… thinking about something myself…”

“Wait wait wait. How many times have you had to go through highschool?! That sounds like hell—“

“It is. Still look too young for college… But if we don’t want to be investigated I have to keep acting at the age I look…” She rolled her eyes, “Though the state aren’t competent enough to notice the same person going through their school system every other four years…”

“What if you stop faking and tell—“

“I end up in a government facility most likely…” She answered bluntly.

Her coworker snorted.

“It is a genuine fear of mine, really. It’s why Michael and I have to come back whenever a new thing related to the franchise pops up. If people knew the full truth…” She paused, “I bet even the ghosts in the suits would be in the same boat as me then…”

“…Oh.”

“Man… I’ve never told anyone this shit before… This feels…like a weight is off my shoulders…”

“You’ve been that isolated… Unable to tell the truth to anyone…For 30 years…?!”

“Yep. Just myself, Micheal, and…”

Rebecca stopped herself. Mikey was already pissed about the amount of information they had to disclose to this person due to the sheer fact “Dave” was in the equation. As much as she wanted to let it out, she’d get in trouble for mentioning another huge name for the brand.

“Sorry, I’m prone to oversharing…”

———

“Ms.Clair, I know you’re about to leave, but have you seen Mi—“

Rebecca grabbed from behind, making her panic on reflex, letting out a very childlike noise despite her biting her lips.

“Jason!” Clair scolded.

“What? I needed to get through the doorway.” Jason smirked at her, “Are you gonna come around here often or—“

“Yes… I-I work here?” Rebecca was autistic and oblivious to any sort of flirting. It seemed Jason was taking that as a bit of a challenge.

“Well, you like making it difficult, huh?”

“Making what difficult?” She was more confused than offended or creeped out, “W-was I really that much in the way? S-sorry—“

“It’s so easy to make you apologize.” Jason snickered, “It’s really cute how you get all flustered…”

The sound of inexplicable metal hitting the door made Jason jump.

“SHITSHITSHIT—“

He turned around, sighing in relief when Springtrap wasn’t standing behind him. It was just that guy with the weird skin condition holding a spare part.

“Man, don’t fucking scare me like that.” The shorter man growled, “Can’t you see we’re having a conversation?!”

“Oh? Want to try doing something about it?” Micheal asked with a threateningly casual tone that was eerily identical to Springtrap’s.

“Whatever. I’m fucking out of here.” Jason huffed, giving the younger figure one last concerned glance. “Good luck with that thing.”

“Bye…I guess?” Rebecca blinked as Jason and Clair left, before turning to her brother, “Mike, where have you been? It’s been an hour.”

“Oh, I was just on the phone.”

“For an hour?!”

“Had to deal with some things after the call.”

“What things?”

“Things.”

“Ugh! Stop being difficult—“

“No.” Her brother chuckled, messing up her hair, “You do realize that man was hitting on you, right?”

“Hold on. He was WHAT?!”

“There you two are.” Their coworker smiled, “I finally found Dave in his room, and I see you found—“

Rebecca punched her brother in the chest repeatedly, as he started horse-playing with her, leading her to giggle, “H-hey! Let go—“

“Nope… Sibling privilege.” Micheal had her in a headlock, finally letting her go as she managed to get a good hit on him, “Fuck—!”

“Ha!”

“Below the belt? Really?” He smirked.

“It’s not like you have anything valuable down there!” She snapped back, getting too caught up in playing with her brother to notice who just entered the establishment.

“Oh jeez… Would you crazy kids stop wrestling each other on the clock?”

Rebecca lost all of the color in her face hearing that voice. No. No no no. Henry was here?! But her father was here?! Oh shit… This was going to end so…so badly. What was Michael thinking?!

“Your hair’s all over the place, kiddo.” The man walked over and fixed it for her, as well as straightening her shirt, “There! Now if only your brother would stop messing it all up…”

“Heh… No promises.”

Unseen by everyone, Springtrap watched from the farthest end of the hallway Micheal had come from. He was absolutely seething. William had no idea that Rebecca ended up being taken in by Henry after his death. Seeing his former business partner fix his daughter’s hair in such a fatherly manner while she clearly seemed embarrassed by it was enough to make him want to strangle him. That bastard, that hypocrite.

Taking in his child after banishing him from his own company, stealing his work, and leaving him without a way to feed that same child and her older siblings back in the 80’s? Just who did Henry think he was?! Some savior?!

“Uh… Who is this?”

His daughter looked terrified as her coworker spoke up, but her expression turned to one of horrific dread as she noticed her father’s figure lurking at the end of the other hall.

“Oh, where are my manners?” The old man chuckled, patting Michael on the shoulder, “My name is Henry Emily. It’s a pleasure to—“

Rebecca couldn’t leave fast enough, passing her father on the way and dodging his attempt to stop her. Nope. No way. Not today. Not ever. She locked herself in the back room, prepared for all hell to break lose.

“My dad’s here isn’t he?” Charlie’s spirit asked, frowning sympathetically as the woman curled up against the wall just nodded.

“Stay in here… The others and I can try to scare him out…”