#my prospective sucks

[trying-to-jew]

Constantly torn between my desire to convert and the crushing weight of knowing that I won’t be able to exist in the wider fandom spaces that I love without being constantly reminded that Jews are always guilty until proven innocent post-Oct 7.

[awkwardrocker]

I need everyone upset about Liam's promotion to understand that it had nothing to do with him being better/worse than Yuki. Yuki outperformed him. Yuki deserved the chance. BUT Yuki is not a Redbull driver. He is a Honda driver. He has no loyalty to Redbull and that is why he did not get a chance next to Max. It's not that he didn't deserve it. It's pure business.

Redbull are ending their relationship with Honda. They are creating their own engines. It's likely seen as a big liability to Redbull to have Yuki actively involved in any tests or even near anything involving the 2026 engine.

This is not an attack on Yuki or his character or anything like that, so please do not take it that way. But, Yuki's loyalty to a different engine manufacturer is a major risk to any new manufacturer like the Ford/Redbull powertrain. You just never know. I'm not saying he doesn't deserve a good drive, but Yuki's loyalty will forever be to Honda (as it should) and that poses a lot of risks for Redbull.

Once again, I am not commenting on Yuki's character or making assumptions about him when I say this, but there are a lot of big concerns if he gets promoted. He could ditch them for Aston immediately because Honda asks, he could share information about the new engine to Honda, or he could give questionable feedback that negatively impacts the new powertrain. Maybe he wouldn't do these things. But if there's even the most miniscule potential that he could, it would make any team hesitant. F1 is rampant with cheating allegations and questionable tactics to win. The teams will want to protect themselves in any eventuality. And that is what's working against Yuki so greatly.

Yuki has proven to be a very competent driver over the past year, but let's not forget that he nearly lost his seat in 2023 and the rumored reason he stayed is due to Honda. He owes his career to Honda, not Redbull. And at the end of the day, that's his main flaw within this team. It's not his driving. It's not his temper. It's not anything else. It's purely who he is aligned to poltically in the racing world. Is that fair? No. Is that how racing works? Unfortunately, yes.

[mwagneto]

the main problem other than my country (NOT AMERICA🇭🇺) being a corrupt fascist shithole is that if i stay in the same place doing the same thing for too long i start going insane like just the idea of having to do another year of uni makes me want to gnaw at the bars of my cage that doesn't exist. slow tigers chasing me etc. but like 1) i need a degree 2) i need to get out of the country asap 3) having a degree would help me to/when i get out 4) i cannot bear the thought of buckling down and doing my work til mid 2026 like oh my.god. taking a gap year is definitely helping i literally only spent like 2 weeks of this semester in my house but like i need my entire life to be like that not just a few months of it. maybe i should work as a steward on a plane or smtg i dont KNOWW

[grimmweepers]

life comes at you so fast

[winepresswrath]

- Entertainment Weekly

the way I am strapping on my clown shoes preparing to be just so relentlessly unwell about this relationship.

[itsahotminuteinbetween]

Aaaand at last the long awaited chapter 7 that I've been hoarding from yall for a lil while! There's just a little buildup here, so not terribly essential, but I think it was important to write anyway. This sets up the next chapter, so be aware of that...

And as always, I must invite my esteemed guests @itsberrydreemurstuff, @bibooby, @laegume and @andyssilly to the lil slumber party. (If anyone else wants to be tagged just lemme know and I'll put ya in the next one!)

Anyways, on with the show!

Word Count: 3075

The tension from this morning melts away pretty quickly once the kids show up. You’re dragged into a tea party, sipping air from a plastic cup with your knees tucked into your chest to fit you while you gossip to the children about Mr. Teddy Bear’s newest escapade in an overly-posh accent.

That feeling from earlier creeps up on you again, the phantom constrictions in your chest tightening, and you hardly have time to mask your sharp inhale and wince when a hard shock runs up your spine, warning you of what’s to come. The kids seem worried for a moment, but you cover up your reaction with a dramatic tale, urging them to ‘banish’ you to your station to save them from the wretched demon possessing your immune system. It’s not really that type of illness, not the sort they can catch, but you’ve always had a bit of a flair for the dramatic, and your performance does the trick.

You regret not bringing your medicine today, but Sun had warned you not to, and he was effectively the boss. It wasn’t so bad anyway- just a bit of soreness, nothing terribly noteworthy. Worst case scenario, you could take a pill from the Daycare’s little pharmacy cabinet and make it through the day. And maybe call your brother as a last resort, but you refused to bother him unless it was an emergency. For now, you’ll just wait it out. 

Snacktime is announced, and you wheel out the food, standing to the side as your stomach decides to make its hunger known. Did you have breakfast before you left? You don’t know. You didn’t think to pack a lunch (you never do) and your clock-out time wasn’t soon enough for you to placate your hunger. You stare at the contents on the table and remind yourself that it’s not for you, it’s for the kids, and Sun is right there. You return to your work station and attempt to read your book, but the words can’t seem to stay in your head.

By the time the lights go out, the pounding has sharpened, and you’re hardly able to move your legs without some ache in your bones. It’d probably be best if you left the daycare to check yourself over, which you neglect to tell Moon before he even gets his chance to do his little routine. His faceplate tilts to the side with a little click, and you’re out the door before he thinks to say anything. 

—---------------------------------

Moon blinked. That’s…new. They never take a break during naptime. 

The only reply he got from his brother was a subdued hum of agreement. 

—------------------------------

Your slightly unbalanced speed-walking comes to a halt a good 20 paces from the Daycare as you realize you have no idea where you’re going. You’ve never really been through the Pizzaplex aside from heading to your post or to Parts & Service, so you only knew two or three routes in this maze. Well, and the DJ’s arcade, but you only know the directions there from the entrance, not the Daycare. 

Maybe you could find your way from Parts & Service? Last time you’d been, the STAFF bots led the way…

Scratch that. You knew one route.

Lovely. You can’t say that you’re particularly thrilled to do more walking in your state, but you suppose there’s no time like the present to get further adjusted to your workplace. There was a restaurant around here somewhere, right? Even if their only dish was pizza that tasted like cardboard topped with soggy oatmeal, food was food, and it was better than nothing. If you could only figure out how to get there.

The irony of the fact that you have to go find the Map bot and ask it for directions is not lost on you. 

Oh, how the tables have turned.

Luckily, you don’t have to look far. It just so happens that one is conveniently stationed around a corner at some random attraction. You approach it awkwardly and tap it on the shoulder, offering a small, unsure smile. “Hey, I was wondering if you, uh…if you could spare me a map?”

You swear the stoic face of the bot in front of you practically lights up, and you can feel the beaming smile it gives you in spite of its static expression as it shoves a map into your hand with the vigorous and insistent mantra of “Take a map! Please take a map!”

You struggle to suppress the little laugh that bubbles out of you upon seeing its excitement, and you comply with its wishes, shooting it a much more relaxed smile and thanking it before it wheels away to the next set of customers. 

You examine the map eagerly thrust upon you. Apparently there are several dining areas, one for every floor. You don’t have much time to explore, though, so you choose the closest one to you: the FazPad.

After twenty minutes of running around in search of the elusive location, you’re finally able to find and order something from the somewhat overpriced menu with the help of the employee discount. Ordering a Moondrop curry seems fitting considering your position, though you pray Moon doesn’t somehow find out about it. You poke at the bright blue dish that you’re pretty sure is supposed to be edible. It isn’t half as bad as you expected, surprisingly. Shame you couldn’t say the same for its namesake.

Speaking of the lunar menace, you have maybe half an hour before naptime is over, and you refuse to be late. You’d seen them when you were tardy, and it was not pretty. Your mini check up would go pretty quickly, as you were confident it wasn’t anything problematic. 

Another ten minutes is spent trying to find a bathroom (you do not want to go back to use the one in the Daycare while Moon’s still out unless absolutely necessary). You lock yourself in a small stall and lean against the door to look yourself over, fingers gently pressing into your legs and lower back with hesitance. You cringe slightly, lips thinning into a line. You hate when this happens, but it should pass eventually. With any luck, you’d be able to go to work and avoid the worst of it. You’d just have to be a little more mindful of your limits.

This probably wouldn’t end up like last time.

Satisfied with your conclusion, you make your way back to the Daycare. Naptime was still in session and you were anticipating a trick upon your return.

—----------------------

You wake up in a cold sweat, heart racing as you gasp for air, shooting up from the mattress and breathing heavily, your eyes dart around your room, relaxing when you spot the familiar dark silhouettes of your belongings. There’s just enough moonlight from the window for you to make out details. Your hand flies to your chest almost instinctively, as if to verify that your heart’s still pumping, you’re still alive, still here. 

You’re awake now.

Once your initial panic dies down, you become acutely aware of three things. 

The first is that it is very hot, almost unbearably so. Sweat clings to your form as perspiration runs down your forehead. You can hear the AC vents pushing out air, but it doesn’t help cool the burning in your core that spreads through you.

The second thing you notice is that the shirt your hand is clutching tightly is your work uniform. You must’ve blacked out after coming home from work. As usual, you don’t remember that.

The third thing is the feeling of bile rising in your throat, and it swiftly surpasses the first two observations. You stagger to the kitchen sink on numb legs and lean heavily against the kitchen counter, retching violently. You’re still shaking by the time you can manage to lift your head out, forcing yourself to hack and spit the rest out to flush out the remaining fluids choking your throat. You hazard a glance at the sink before washing away the blue chunks. Figures. You’re never having Fazbear’s trademarked trash again.

You navigate back to your room to brush your teeth and rid the foul taste of vomit from your mouth, cranking up the AC on the way to bed. You toss the thin cover aside and adorn your pajamas, waiting for sleep to claim you and take you from this awful feeling. Something nags you in the back of your mind, warning you that it’s only about to get worse before you’re dragged under, in and out of consciousness as the night progresses.

Your alarm blares some time later and you fumble to turn it off. Little shit doesn’t know you’ve been up for the past hour. You bite back a groan. While your stomach had thankfully settled overnight, everything else has hit you full force. 

It’s official. You’re Sick.

Or at least, that’s what the shit feeling leads you to believe.

You make a weak attempt to sit up…only to immediately crash back down again. An involuntary cry of alarm rips from you at that sharp pain that lances through your spine. It’s so much worse than yesterday. You shake your head and force back tears. It usually doesn’t get this bad. It usually just stops at your lower back. 

Still, you have a job to do, and you’re not letting a little thing like this stop you.

Your things are shoved into your bag, work clothes thrown on. You hesitate but decide to bring the pills anyway. Maybe it’s the lack of sleep talking, but Sun yelling at you is nothing compared to this.

You’re out of the apartment before you even remember you forgot to pack a lunch yet again. 

—---------------------------

The attendants can't help but notice that something seems…off…about you.

On the surface level, nothing has changed. You still walk into the room and greet them, still write your reports and go along with Sun’s demands and Moon’s antics. But there are little things that tip them off, like the small limp in your step or the naps you’ve begun taking more often when the lights go out. 

Moon notices your bag has lost some weight. The usual thought and care packed into it is absent. Extra clothes and books are left behind, with only your phone and laptop inside. You’d also taken to bringing those pills. He’d given up on lecturing you about it when all he got was an affirmative that was immediately broken the next day. The lunar AI assured him they were harmless, but it was still off-putting.

Your emails, they noticed, had also become more succinct and to the point. Not that it was a bad thing: you tended to ramble in great detail, even in the simple notes. Lately, though, they found that it was missing something. 

Take your recent Maintenance update, for example. You’d apparently noticed the issues with their joints and filed a request for Parts & Service. You always notified them a day or two in advance prior to an appointment. This time, however, they did not receive your normally well-written email. It remained polite, of course, but it was clipped, curt.

Unexpected.

And it wasn’t just your work suffering, either. Your usual excitement when playing with the children was absent. You were tenser, got tired more easily, frequently taking breaks and hanging back to catch your breath.

No, the change wasn’t too great, but it was there, and it was starting to get a bit out of hand. You’d pretty much been glued to your desk for the last two days. And while you weren’t really required to do much else besides your updates, it still felt…wrong.

It didn’t matter, though, they reasoned. If you weren’t feeling good, you’d take a couple days off and they’d be done with it. They’d have enough leverage in addition to your recent slacking to get rid of you.

They…did still want to get rid of you, Sun reminded himself. You had flaws, flaws that could not exist in their perfect system, flaws that had to be eradicated to maintain order.

It was better for everyone that way.

______________________________________

You rub your eyes, slowly scanning your ID at the clock-in station and fighting back the dark edges in the corner of your vision. You hadn’t been sleeping well as of late, and it was starting to take a toll on you. You didn’t dare to call in sick, however, remembering all too well your coworkers’ reactions when you’d returned from you unexpected time off.

Granted, that was a special case, but they didn’t know that.

It’s not like you knew what had been going on at the time, anyway.

You stroll into the Daycare as usual, bag slung on your shoulder and a slightly less enthusiastic greeting on your lips. Your routine is interrupted when without warning, a dizziness crashes into you and leaves you with spots in your vision. They do not clear this time when you try to force them away. The room spins, and your knees buckle under you, causing you to lurch forward. You brace yourself against the wall and hiss at the sudden burning ache of your muscles. 

As quickly as it came, the feeling withdraws, pulling back fast enough that the dizziness multiplies instead of lessening. Once the room soon stills, you pull yourself back to your feet, sitting down at your desk and getting to work like nothing happened.

Just as well that no one saw.

You’re in the midst of writing another report when your phone goes off. You take a glance around to make sure that Sun isn’t watching and open them. There are three messages waiting for you. One from your brother asking how you’ve been, one mysterious letter from Fazbear, and one from…

Ah.

You skim the last one and dismiss it. The first two are received with greater excitement, something you haven’t felt in a little while. You respond to your brother with your trademarked ‘I’m doing just great let’s talk about something else now’ and read Management’s reply.

Hello, Fazbear Employee, 

We have received your request for funding for greater literary material. After careful consideration, we have decided to approve your proposal. You are required to send a list of materials you wish to purchase. Please remember that any liabilities and/or repercussions faced as a result of this project will result in immediate termination of your contract.

Thank you and have a Faz-errific day!'

Your exhaustion and illness is momentarily forgotten as you squeal and bounce in your seat excitedly. Oh, you already had a dozen titles running through your head that you were certain the kids would love. You’d already compiled a short list a few pages long in your notebook, you’d have to copy it and send it over as soon as possible-

Aaaaand there was that ever so familiar voice piping up in front of you and instantly dashing all your hopes and dreams. “Oh? What’s got you oh-so chipper this morning?”

You swallow down that instinctual feeling of being doused in ice water and manage to maintain your smile. “Management approved my request for buying more books!”

“I’d been under the impression you’d been doing so already..” he remarked dryly.

You ignore his comment, showing him the email and forgetting who you’re ranting to your boss in your excitement about this new opportunity. He takes the device and reads the email himself before responding in an odd voice. “Management didn’t send us an update about this…”

“I just found out myself,” you shrug, not noticing the subtle glare shot at you. “I already had a few titles in mind, but I’d be more than happy to get your opinions on them. The kids are gonna be so excited to get some new stories for naptime, and I’m sure we could-“

“There’s nothing wrong with what we have now for naptime,” he cuts you off, a second, darker undertone layering his voice briefly. His eyes flash red for a split second. 

You blink and hastily amend yourself. “Right, sorry, I just meant that it’ll be nice to have some more variety, that’s all. We could probably find some stuff for you guys, too, if you wanted. I’m sure Moon’s gotten tired of children’s books by now.”

The attendant says nothing for a while, remaining eerily still, and you turn around to see if he’s still there. There have  been some times where they’ve slipped away without you noticing. How they did so was unknown to you considering the many bells hanging from their frame. “Sun?”

The lights cut off abruptly, and the raspier voice returns, drawling sardonically with a hint of mockery. “Awww, you would do that for meee?” He clasps his hands together and flutters his ‘eyelids’ in a show of sarcasm.

“Hi Moon,” you greet him without missing a beat, shutting your laptop and rummaging through your bag for that notebook of yours. You normally brought it, but maybe you’d forgotten it again. You seemed to be doing that a lot lately…

A blue arm shoots out and grabs yours, promoting you to look up at your assailant’s glowering gaze.

“We don’t need your handouts, certainly not from the likes of you,” he hisses, squeezing your wrist tighter for emphasis. 

You manage a nod, swallowing the lump in your throat and lightly tugging at your arm to signal your desire for release. “R-right, of course, sorry, I just thought-“

“We aren’t interested in the thoughts of a mere worker.” His grip does not yield, the silicone masked metal hand like a shackle. You briefly recall Monty’s harsh bruises (time) before. You don’t want another limb to stop functioning right now. That would really suck.

He leans in to speak, privately relishing in the way you try to lean back with an inkling of fear. He grins sharply. “Y-“

A knock at the door startles the two door of you, earning a growl from Moon and a shuddery exhale of relief from you.

He sends you one last loathsome look before the lights flicker on and Sun attends to the new arrival. You release another sigh, rubbing your now sore wrist. Another ache added to the list.

And with that, a new day has officially begun.

As optimistic as you’d like to be, you’re pretty sure you know exactly where it’s going from here.

———————

Aaaaaaaand that’s a wrap! Sorry for the long wait everyone, hope it was worthwhile and I’ll see you all in the next one!

[crazysodomite]

Staying alive for now but not for much longer I feel

[squircatlies]

I would never stoop so low as to ask another person for help.

[guinevereslancelot]

hm am i going insane or is it just november

[anaalnathrakhs]

positive-thinking'd a little too much and now i'm wired and happy no matter how badly today went and i'm never going to go to sleeeeeeeeep :DDDDD

[oopsallmabari]

i cannot stress enough that i don't care abt the release of a game above the larger implications for how a studio+its employees are doing. but mary kirby got hit by the bioware cuts and. :( devastating to hear.

[mothusband]

only bad thing about getting a job is that im gonna have to start waking up at 6:30am 😭 <- guy who has been waking up around 10 or 11 for the past week

[roombagreyjoy]

*said with increasing distress, eyes blodshot and an empty mug in hand* you guys remember writing right????? you guys remember posting fic and publishing things and talking to editors about potential projects right???? you guys remember being creative in your creative jobs and not just rereading old work and having a panic attack over the time wasted over curating hyperspecific character playlists that you get mad about five minutes later right????? i'm not insane right????? creative block is normal even if it lasts for months right???? i haven't written a fic in YEARS but it's ok i'm ok i have to finish TWO original pieces for next week that I haven't even started but it'll probably be fineeeee I'm totally not being a complete and raving lunatic about it it's probably gonna be okay <3 yay <3

[edwinisms]

ok I’ll bite what is the deal with half of all ao3 fics being titled like. main title (more descriptive subtitle). no problem with it or anything i just have no idea when and why this format came to be

[bigmeansweatydyke]

me when the amount of alcohol i would normally and easily drink a month ago made me puke like twice

[drop--pop--candy]

well i have a million problems, 99% of which stem back to my mother. but at least i'm nothing like her