#quartz looks too polished

[winter-jay-official]

Cue me always using moss blocks dark wood and calcite in my builds bc i love them </3

[fearthefuzzybear]

I need to take the potion of Minecraft soon :o what is your favorite building material??

DON'T LAUGH AT ME..... but. . pumpkin and acacia......

i love all kinds of building materials and woods n logs n stuff but MAN. THERE IS NO BETTER THING 2 BUILD WITH WHEN I WANT DISCREET LIGHT SOURCES!!! wall of pumpkin? ok. why isnt it dark? JACK O LANTERNS!!! and also its justSUCH a unique color. it doesn't have a Perfect gradient color, but its a very nice Light yellowy-Orange that is pleasing to the eye. and its such a delightful contrast with colors like black and whiteand purple and green. or goes with p much EVERYTHING. i dont know howto make pumpkin look ugly. challenge time. make pumpkin look ugly. AND its renewable so fast so easy. one of the easiestfarms for a building block.

and. i like acacia for similar reasons but theres more Variety in there for block shapes. stairs n slabs n fences, oh my! she gets an unfair rep tbh. some people just don't see her value 🙄. stone texture copper color pumpkin shading she can do it all. AND she has one of my favorite trapdoor designs. she is SO undervalued

[two-calicos-in-a-trenchcoat]

Any rock can be an anti anxiety healing crystal when you're autistic

[puzzled-pegasus]

Here's some silly little metaphors that I think the dragon tribes would use

SkyWings

“Don’t count your clutch before they hatch.” (Don't plan too much too soon)

“Gold is better than silver, but silver is better than nothing.” (If you can't do it perfectly, still try your best. Most dragons forget the second part.)

“‘Sorry’ can't suck the fire back in.” (The damage is done and now you're dead to me.)

“You been eating too much burnt meat or something?” (Are you nuts?)

“Stop all this smoke and use your fire.” (Stop rambling and get to the point already; or stop complaining and do something)

“Doesn't know his tail from his wings.” (Stupid or clumsy)

“You fly like a depressed pigeon.” (Slow flier)

“There's no fire in a rainstorm.” (Stop feeling sorry for yourself and get to work.)

“Nighttime is for the NightWings.” (What are you doing up? Go to sleep.)

SandWings

“She’s all rattle, and no strike.” (Like all bark no bite)

“A diamond in a pile of quartz.” (Like a needle in a haystack)

“You’re watering the cactus and ignoring the sapling.” (You’re focusing on the wrong thing; barking up the wrong tree)

“Everyone thinks the camel looks silly until the dry season comes.” (Don't listen to them, they don't know how unique and strong you are)

MudWings

“Crocodile tears.” (Fake crying in order to gain sympathy)

“You can only catch a trout if your mouth is open.” (Be open to new experiences)

“If the tree gives away too much, it ends up as a stump.” (Don't let people take advantage of your generosity)

SeaWings

“Happy as a clam in high water.” (Very happy)

“The flying fish feels like a fool when it sees an osprey.” (Don't compare yourself to others, run your own race.)

“Plenty of fish in the sea.” (Plenty more opportunities to come.)

“You’ve got ink in your eyes.” (You're blind to something important)

“Lobsters only die when they don't leave their shell.” (Keep yourself busy with new experiences and you'll life a long life)

NightWings

“Sleep is for the dead.” (Why waste your time sleeping when you could be productive)

“SeaWings know their fish and SandWings know their cactuses, but we NightWings know everything else.”(NightWing supremacy propaganda)

“Being nice to a deer never got one in my mouth.” (Other dragons don't matter, only your goals.)

“A prophecy always comes true.” (I told you so but more cryptic)

"You're counting the stars." (You're doing something tedious towards an unachievable goal)

RainWings

“Gray’s her favorite color.” (She's a huge bummer)

“A lemon is yellow on the outside, doesn't mean they're not sour.” (Referring to someone who is two faced or fake)

“I love honey, but I’d rather not get stung by the bees.” (I could do this, but it requires effort so I don't wanna)

“Nobody likes a rotten banana.” (Nobody likes a bummer/downer)

“Don't tie your tail in a knot” (don't get all upset)

“I have all my berries in a basket” (I have everything sorted out)

“You couldn't sneak up on a pineapple” (insult to one's camouflage skills, popular among children)

IceWings

“The seal who asks why the orca is chasing him is the first to get eaten.” (A favorite of parents telling their kids to shut up)

“Not the sharpest icicle on the roof” (kinda stupid or slow)

“Clear as polished ice” (i understand or see it very well)

“You're looking a little pink in the face” (you look sickly. IceWings can turn pink from eating too much krill; a symptom of malnutrition. This line can be applied to any illness.)

“Blue blood kills, red blood spills.” (Patriotic propaganda implying that IceWings win every fight

“The SkyWings toss their blue eyed hatchlings because they're worried they'll be as strong as an IceWing.” (More propaganda)

HiveWings

“Pretty is for the SilkWings.” (Vanity is stupid and impractical)

“If it buzzes like a bug and bites like a bug, it's a bug.” (Don't ignore the obvious)

“Clearsight works in mysterious ways.” (I don't know the answer to your question, now go away)

SilkWings

“It's not always good to know how the honey gets made.” (Don't stick your snout where it doesn't belong)

“She's got a couple of threads loose.” (Calling someone a little crazy, threads refers to weaving)

“The bee minds its flowers and the spider minds her silk, it's when they mix that bad things happen.” (Mind ya business)

LeafWings

“Flytraps only trap because the soil doesn't feed them.” (Dragons don't get angry out of nowhere)

“Looking like a leaf only hides you in the forest.” (Time and place)

“If a branch doesn't bend, it breaks.” (Be flexible)

“Even the corpse flower attracts the flies.” (Even someone who seems ugly to one dragon they can seem irresistible to another)

[valve3nthusiast]

(I've talked about Drift fucking crystals before right? Like there's no way that I haven't at least once right?)

How it all starts, of course, is with Rodimus making dirty jokes about some of the more... suspiciously shaped crystals in his collections, which Drift scolds him for. None of his crystals would be used like that! It's disrespectful!

Drift definitely doesn't spend the next couple of weeks staring at the ceiling of his room, furiously jacking off, while carefully avoiding looking at his collection. Or even thinking about it. Absolutely not. (Damn it, Rodimus)

So when he's next at an alien market and perusing the crystals and gemstones section, he definitely has no ulterior motive for buying an absurdly large harmonic quartz suspiciously cut and polished into the shape of a textured spike. Complete coincidence. (Listen, it was a really high-quality quartz for dirt cheap, he had to take that deal, ignore his bank account numbers)

And Drift is simply making a smart and tactical decision when he hides it in his subspace until he gets back to his room. Rodimus would probably never shut up about it, and maybe even steal it to try and do... lewd... acts with it! Truly, he is just looking out for the safety and dignity of all involved. Minimus would be proud

It's just... curiosity, that makes him take out the new quartz before he starts... "tending to himself," so he can compare it to his spike... only to see if it actually is that phallic!

The harmonic quartz is certainly pretty, shimmering with many vibrant colors. And large. And thick. And at the base of the center pillar, there are still some small crystalline formations, lovely and polished to a shine, but decently sharp enough to make you want to keep them away from anything... sensitive

A healthy dose of self-delusion really can't cover for the fact that once Drift realizes the crystal is so generously proportioned that it's nearly twice as big as his spike, his valve starts dripping. Any internal justifications of "academic interest" or "morbid curiosity" can't cover for the way he's now rubbing the blunt tip of the quartz across his glowing node and flushed valve folds

And, all right... maybe... he's been thinking about this more than he should. Maybe, getting it out of his system would make him stop. Maybe putting that blunt, unyielding crystal into his valve won't feel good at all, and he won't lie awake thinking about it anymore, so he should just put it in and be done with it-

Drift's loud moan shatters both the silence of his room and his hopes of not enjoying this, as he forces the massive crystal past the first caliper of his valve. It's somehow nothing like a spike, and yet better, his valve desperately clenching around the too-large quartz. The burn of his first caliper squeezing down on its unyielding, solid mass is exquisite. (It's possible there are some other things he has been avoiding admitting to himself, every time an injury made him revved up with charge that he did his best to ignore)

And, well. Maybe once Drift's collected himself, he ends up staring at the ceiling again, thinking about the empty ache in the rest of his valve, and the sunk cost fallacy, and how the rest of the crystal might feel if this is just the tip, and the merits of literally just saying "fuck it."

So he does. Fuck it, I mean. Vigorously, with great enthusiasm and some mild self-injury. His needy little valve was designed take the softer living metal of a spike, or something similar. The hard quartz he's forcing his valve open with is nothing like that at all. The sweet thrill of pain lights up his array with more charge than he ever really wants to self-reflect on

If Drift could even hear himself right now, he'd probably be embarrassed by the noises he's making. The aching burn of each new caliper he harshly pushes through has him moaning like a virgin taking their first spike. But he's too distracted by how fragging full he feels, one hand brutally pistoning the quartz into his abused valve, the other furiously rubbing circles on his anterior node

Fragging hell, when he finally manages to force the whole thing inside of him and grind the fat, blunt tip into his ceiling node, he shrieks like he's being fragging murdered, and accidentally overloads himself into unconsciousness

As Drift wakes up the next morning, still aching around the crystal he didn’t have the chance to pull out, valve lips scratched and bleeding from the rough edges at the base of his new favorite false spike, he looks at the ceiling and thinks: maybe I should start a new crystal collection...

(and, oh primus, if I get an infection from this, no one is ever going to let me live it down)

[wilted3sunflowers]

Pink Pearl: SOLD

Always thought of as a simple minded pearl who honestly to many outsiders never thought she was that great at being a quiet and follow you from behind type. Yet never seemed to be reprimanded much from Zebra Agate whom she was entrusted to. Currently she's thriving in this new Era 3 and on earth in Empire City. She was the one among this group to actually start the whole animal pattern print...kind of. Though technically it could be argued the pattern started with Zebra Agate but Pink Pearl conciously chose leopard print from seeing them on models in store window advertismenet and could not be more interested. On Homeworld theres very little patterns, only really lattice work or stripes of any kind or diamond checkerboard. No one really thought out- no one thought to look to organic beasts for fashion. Humans are so fascinating. Maybe thats what that Rose Quartz truly saw in them. How creative and vibrant they are. Comes with a past form too on toyhouse

Design Notes on Grey and Pink Pearl: Inspired first by Pink pearl's interest in 'animal pattern' which Grey is a pearl who excelled at being 'a pearl' sure she was never the most emotive, sing song-y type of pearl for entertainment yet what Zebra Agate needed was a pearl more of a secretary of keeping things on schedule and taking calls and what not. I also decided for this story a conscious effort that Pearls don't wear patterns. They're not of importance they are here to be simple, more softer colors typically and just to show they're a pearl. not some combination of gem type wearing another gems pattern. Also decided the same of course for Pink pearl for them being simple, run of the mill pearls even if Grey has a bit more to her past design it was only for the more authoritative feel that a pearl might have being under an *Agate* that terrifies Design notes on Pink lace: Due to corruption she is a lot more faded- not just from corruption but because her gem was more like that of the sand gem. Embedded in an object and only ever facing the sun. bleaching her gem of colors with too much exposure. She's a lot more polished in her currently look- i had a design ready for her just out of corruption look but then that would leave Zebra agate without a past form and decided to let the two non pearls without past forms. She of course used to be much more vibrant.

Design Notes on Zebra Agate: purposefully the inverse of typical zebra pattern on her clothes. with white stripes on black you can see that her hair itself is a regular part of black stripes on white like a typical zebra. also her design on her bodysuit is specifically to mimic a ribcage with zebra stripes

Zebra Agate: [Sold] "An Agate Terrifies" That's what Agates do. That's who Agates are. Subjugate those out of line and whip them into shape. They're here to make everyone stay in their proper places and follow rules. However I took her to completely go into the other direction of dealing with rules. The Punk movement appealing to her- if this is Era 3 and there is no need for her job role. Why should she keep trying to force a terrifying agate lifestyle? She may not be the kindest or most sweet Zebra Agate is however sentimental and more thoughtful than many- even pink lace considered her much more cold and rigid to expectations of what used to be common of gem society. While shes not an anarchist she has been delving into punk fashion but also the subculture to help her adjust to her new world and its views. She had always needed to follow rules blind and enforce them but due to the new order change. How else was she to find something that even acknlowedges no structure is perfect and many are flawed- even so her diamonds were flawed. Nothings perfect and nothing is without work to adjust.

Grey Pearl: SOLD A muted personality. What do you do when you used to know everything you were supposed to do? Living not in just a new era but an entire new world where you're allowed a lot more freedom that you never actually craved before. She's known Pink Pearl for thousands upon thousands of years and while there are some feelings of envy she would consider Pink Pearl to be her only friend. It's a complex mix of emotions like anyone would have especially towards Zebra Agate and the peculiar softness she seems to have for Pink Pearl that she has with no one else. Whilst never treated harshless it always was more of a cold wall from Zebra Agate that Grey Pearl felt. That this was strictly business relationship. Agate never even asked her to sing or dance- two components that make a pearl a pearl in many's eyes. Yet she's asked Pink Pearl to sing for her, and never stopped her from dancing without being asked. Grey Pearl may not have much of a relationship with Faded Pink Lace however she almost projects a sense of kinship of feelings left behind with her. In fact it was after Pink Lace Agate came back with those curated corruption spots that she decided to have some own markings herself. Humans have tattoos and while she can't get a traditional tattoo from humans she herself worked to get those marks on herself. She was the last one in the group to reform to this new Human lifestyle. Comes with a past form too on toyhouse

(Faded) Pink Lace: SOLD During the gem war she of course fought for homeworld and even was was part of the last charge. Of course, while she is more of the carefree type even she could see the dangers. Zebra was part of the task to pull out more of the aristocrats and Pink Lace part of the ground troops. Anything could happen so just as a precaution she sent her pearl away to Zebra Agate. Honestly, she expected that terrifying Agate to reset Pink Pearl for herself. It was a peculiar feeling for Pink Lace recognizing her pearl- even if it took only a moment before her Pearl recognized her. All so unevenly spotted and with sharp spiked growths coming out of her. She was a mess...Just how Zebra Agate used to scold her about. Her pearl still so lively and a bit oblivious to others feelings but even now so creative- such unique spots on her dress...theyre not even diamond shaped. Pink Lace at least knows to go with the flow of things but a good deal perceptive.

[radiolore]

MY VENTURE HEADCANONS!!! :3

copy pasted from my tiktok plus some :3

AAAAA I LOVE THEM SO MUCJ U DONT UDNERTSND

~☆~

• wants to take care of plants but cant due to their job

• forgets to drink water a lot

• one time passed out due to dehydration, the wayfinder society found them in a cave and they had to be in the emergency room for a day

• since then, they got an app on their phone that buzzes when they should drink water and itll water a virtual plant :3

• unironically loves classical music

• likes to scour the internet in their spare time to listen to different music genres from different eras

• wishes they could learn intruments, especially ancient ones that people dont typically play anymore but cant cause of the time their job takes, but they still admire people who do play those intruments still!!

• their parents are missing and are pressumed dead and they hope that by being an archeologist they can find them one day

• used to cry as a kid when people would squish ants :(

• they think they dont have time for a partner, so theyre not really looking for one, but wouldnt be opposed to having one if they met the right person

• if they did meet someone they were interested in, would be super estatic and friendly, talking to them a lot, looking for them when they enter a room, etc

• would prefer an in-person relationship, they would be willing to try long distance but with how much they travel for their job, they will end up not being happy because they feel like they have to choose between their partner and passion :((

• they would end up romantacising the person theyre interested in and get disappointed when they dont live up to their fantasies

• really good at coming up with art n crafts ideas, bad at executing them

• autism

• used to be super interested in internet history as a kid, like random events that went down on the internet n stuff, but not so much anymore since theyre an archeologist now

• fav ice cream is rocky road (who would've guessed)

• messy eater

• love language is gift giving and quality time

• speaking of gift giving, if they liked someone they would def research crystal meanings and give them specific crystals based on their meaning

• need some extra luck? they're giving u aventurine, got into trouble recently and need protection? boom amethyst, they like you but they're too scared to say so? they're giving you rose quartz daily and hope you get the hint

• LOVES those shark tooth necklaces and wears one under their sweater (mostly just cuz they don't want it to get caught on something while working and have it fall off)

• any vacations they get from work, they always make sure to visit their grandma and tell her all about their adventures and findings !!

• thinks people with crooked teeth are the absolute cutest (totally not a self insert for me cuz I got crooked teeth ahahahaa nope)

• when they paint their nails they always just do it messily and just let the excess nail polish on their fingers to fall off ☠️☠️ (same)

• can def carry a conversation if ur shy or just don't talk a lot

• has a social media platform where they post cool things they find, after becoming associated with Overwatch, it gains traction

• after their profile gains attention, it actually becomes an in-universe meme/rumor that they chipped their tooth eating a rock

• Sloane thought it was funny, but they eventually come out and make a post saying they chipped their tooth after a rock came flying at their face while drilling 😞

• asexual cuz I said so

• u know that one dinosaur death pose fossil? they have something like that tattooed on their body

• also a compass tattoo probs

• is the BEST hugger

• when they're excited to see you, they'll hug u n pick u up n spin u around n everything

• is the type to see smth random and go "so-and-so would like this" and just get it without seconds thoughts

• used to draw in high school, but kinda stopped after joining the wayfinders

• is incredibly embarrassed by said drawings and would only show you if you either also showed something equally embarrassing or if yall are extremely close....

• had a lego phase

• Sloan and Junkrat send each other random cryptic texts that wouldn't make sense to anyone else looking at them, but it makes sense to them (it'd be stuff like random images or words or gibberish that'd make u go "what ☠️") (and it'd be at such random intervals like a random text from junkrat at 2am and Sloan doesn't send anything back until 3 days later at noon like???)

• I'm sorry but they're a bad texted lmfao they forget to check their phone all the time

• but they're def not a dry texter tho, they'd use faces like :D D: :p :) :3 >u< ): and type in all caps when they're excited with typos

~☆~

I COULD WRITE MORE BUT IF I CONTINYE ILL LITERSLLT BE HERE FOR HOURS SO I HAVE TO STOP

ANYWAYZ THAMK U FOR LISTENINGN TO ME RAMBLE ABOUT VENTURE BECUZ I LOVE THEM SO MUCJ IM SO OBSESSED WITH THEM N IM LIKE AAA AAAAANAAA AAA

anyways

yea

:3 eeeee

[jackjeannebrainrot]

Jack Jeanne Special Gold Saves

Japanese credit and English translation credit

WARNING: Potential Route Spoilers can be found below, continue reading at your own risk.

COMMON ROUTE

In the scene at the shrine, when Chuza says, "Oh, you must think I'm some flashy con artist, don't you? Take a look at the school's website. Here."

In the scenario that occurs during the first singing lesson, when Tancho's line, "Life must be dazzling! And so too will you dazzle, my little diamonds in the rough!"

Tues April 14th - In the conversation scene after rehearsal, when Neji says, "Well, just leave it to me. I have confidence from polishing the 'dull Quartz' after Tsuki Tachibana left."

Sat May 30th - During the "Newcomer Performance", when Otori's line "…………………… Gah." (Scene where Otori's event illustration is displayed)

During the preparation period for the summer performance, during the 5th Weekend with Ion'', the line "I mean, I'm now a match for Kiito with his incredible physique." (before starting song practice)

In the additional scenario that occurs when you visit Mona Star School 10 times during the preparation period for the summer performance , when Mona 's line “Oh, yes! I was known as Univeil's Brown Rose, you know?''

Sat July 25th - During the "Summer Performance", when Kai's line "Don't play dumb. It's as if… " (Scene where Mutsumi's event illustration is displayed)

During summer break when selecting "Go Out" with Kasai at Onyx Dorms (playing soccer/football) - Kasai says, "Or so you think…!"

Mon Oct 12th - In the scene during rehearsal, when Orimaki 's line "Gotcha! Hup. Hahaha."

Sat Oct 24th - During the “Autumn Performance,'' right after choosing to speak to Fumi from the wings of the stage, his line “Wow, that really ticks me off!!!"

Sat Oct 24th - During the “Autumn Performance'', after choosing the option to speak to Suo, his line "I'll kill you… I'll kill you, I'll kill you, I'll kill you, I'll kill you!!" (Scene where Sou's event illustration is displayed)

Tues Dec 22nd - After rehearsal at the theater (at night), in the conversation scene with Mitsuki, his line “No matter who you are, I accept you."

Thurs Dec 24th - During the "Winter Performance", when Kisa's line "Aaaaahh… agh…!" ( Scene where event illustration with Mitsuki is displayed)

KISA ROUTE

Sat Jan 16th - when Ao says, "I'll be rooting for you. If times get tough, just remember Ao is here. I'll always be with you."

Wed Jan 27th - when Kisa 's line "The central nation of Kielce is my entire life" (Scene where Kisa's event illustration is displayed)

Sun Jan 31st - In Kisa's route , when Chui’s line "Come with me. I’ll take you as far as you want to go" appears. This is a scene after going out.

Sat Feb 27th - Before the play begins, in the scene in the theater/corridor, Kisa says, "So watch me, okay?"

SUZU ROUTE

In Suzu's intimacy scenario 3, when Suzu's line " ... " appears. (Scene where event illustration is displayed)

Mon Jan 4th - In the scene in the Rhodonite practice hall, when Mare's line "Whaaaaaaaa?!” (the second time)

Sat Feb 27th - After the Final Performance on Suzu’s route, when Kamiya 's line “I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry'' appears. (Scene inside the Universal Theater)

MITSUKI ROUTE

In Mitsuki’s Intimacy Scenario 2, when Mitsuki says, " Do you guys mind…?" (Scene in the rehearsal hall at the beginning of the scenario)

Fri Feb 12th - In Mitsuki’s route, when Kaido says , "I was waiting for you to say that! Sugachi, I want you to be Onyx’s victorious dancing princess!"

SOU ROUTE

Mon Feb 1st - In Sou’s route, when Momonashi says, “I want to consume Chui Tanakamigi. I want to take him, swallow him, and turn him into myself.” (Scene at Mt. Odate)

Wed Feb 24th - In Sou’s route, when Sou says, “Your ability to think about yourself gets warped and you can’t see the world for what it is.” (Scene where event illustration is displayed)

KAI ROUTE

Fri Jan 29th - In Kai’s route, when Kai says, “What is it?” while talking to Mitsuki as he’s looking for Kisa.

FUMI ROUTE

Fri Feb 19th - In Fumi’s route, when Fumi says, “Sorry… I wasn’t careful and I got sick.” when visiting Fumi in his room.

NEJI ROUTE

Wed Feb 24th - In Neji’s route, when Neji says, “I was excited to see how far he’ll go. Which is why I wrote scripts for him and even played his AI Jeanne.” when speaking in the Quartz Training Room.

[halfmoth-halfman]

ii. a collection of strangers (a series of secrets)

Pairing: Mob Boss!Price x F!Reader Word Count: 7k Warnings: inaccurate translations (i don't speak russian or german lol), alcohol Disclaimer: I do not own modern warfare or any of the modern warfare characters. prev | next

You return to the club the next day, determined to actually work this time.

The doors open easily—unlocked again—and you beeline for your cleaning cart, not giving yourself the chance to look at anything else around you.

You make it five steps towards the stage when—

“There you are!”

You look around in search of the sudden voice and spot Kyle—or does he prefer Gaz—sitting on one of the barstools, facing the stage. Mohawk stands next to him, leaning with his elbows on the bar top and drumming his fingers against the polished quartz. Bartender busies himself, wiping down glasses with his back to the other two.

Kyle waves you over, saying something to the other two with a laugh. You glance back at your cart, then down at your watch.

You’ve got a few minutes to spare.

You make your way up the small set of stairs and lean back against the railing with your arms loosely folded across your chest. They’re dressed similarly again—varying versions of an all-black, form-fitting uniform—though this time, you have a better, up-close view of Mohawk and Bartender.

You’ve yet to see an unattractive employee.

Maybe that’s a qualifier to work here?

What does that say about you?

“Have you met Soap and Alex yet?” Kyle nods to Mohawk and Bartender, respectively. They give small nods, smiling politely, eyes quickly darting over your form. You smile back, returning their nods to seem polite, but your mind swirls with a single thought—

What the hell kind of name is Soap?

You look them over, cataloging them as much as they are you.

If you had to guess, you’d have thought Alex was Mr. Price’s son before Kyle. They look so similar—same blue eyes, same nose, and frighteningly similar facial hair. His hair is a few shades lighter than Mr. Price’s, and his mouth is thinner, but the resemblance is uncanny.

Whereas Alex has a suave confidence, Soap carries himself with a boyish charm. His mohawk is shaggy, a deep brown that’s too long to stand up, so it curls and falls back onto his head. His blue eyes are wide and friendly, watching you with equal amounts of curiosity and suspicion. There’s not much of a beard on his face—more like long stubble that stretches down his neck to where a black choker sits tight around his skin.

“I couldn’t find you yesterday,” Kyle says, settling back against the bar top.

“Yeah, I…I got sent home,” you admit, trying to laugh it off. Alex and Soap share a look, smirking at each other while Kyle raises a brow.

“When?” Kyle asks. “I was here first thing.” He looks over his shoulder to Alex, the man setting down a glass of what you assume is water and sliding it to Kyle.

“I thought I’d give myself a tour of the building, and...your dad caught me in his office.” Their attention snaps to you, concerned and curious.

“Doing what?” Soap asks, the Scottish brogue taking you by surprise. He turns to face you with his mouth pulled into a devilish half-smirk.

“Reading a book,” you answer. Kyle chuckles to himself as he sips from his glass, but Alex leans his elbows against the bar to get closer to Soap.

“Is that a euphemism for something?” Alex mumbles.

“Why would I know that?” Soap counters softly.

“Causing trouble on your first day? You’re gonna fit right in here.” Kyle smirks, setting his glass down and standing from the barstool. He steps toward you, gesturing to the open space of the club.

“I’ll show you around and help you get started,” he smiles, offering you his arm before leading you down the few steps into the main room. You turn to give a quick wave to Soap and Alex before giving your full attention to Kyle as he goes over the various rooms in the clubs.

It’s not an elaborate building, thankfully, and already kept surprisingly clean. You can’t imagine spending more than five minutes on a single room, but Kyle insists you take your time to carefully examine the space.

You know what he’s doing—humoring you and stretching your time to keep you working longer. They clearly don’t need a cleaner here, and judging by the fully stocked cleaning cart, you suspect they may already have one; it’s that, or one of them is a clean freak.

So, why? Why hire you for a job they don’t need? Had your sob story been convincing enough to actually get you hired here? Maybe Kyle’s humoring you?

You won't worry about it too much if it means you get a stack of cash at the end of the week.

Kyle leaves you to yourself in the kitchen, heading back into the main room to check on Alex and Soap. You take your time at his insistence, examining the beautifully expansive kitchen more than looking for something to clean. The place is spotless anyway, polished so well you can see your reflection in the stainless steel. There’s a door to the walk-in freezer—with no secret morgue hidden behind it—and another door at the back of the room that leads into the back parking lot next to the dumpsters.

Besides that, the only other exit from the room is the double doors separating the kitchen from the main room. It’s not ideal, but there are enough racks to knock over and hinder someone should you need to make a quick exit.

You pick through the ingredients, admiring the flawless organization—everything is labeled with proper names and expiration dates in neat handwriting. Occasionally you find a little sticky note hanging either from a rack or laying on a random pot, with varying types of chicken scratch written across them—all in Spanish.

Your Spanish is frustratingly basic—only able to carry on simple conversations and read short sentences. You had tried to convince your father to let you learn, but he had a strict curriculum for you, and Spanish wasn’t included in it.

You spend half an hour checking the ins and outs of the room before you decide you’ve spent enough time in the kitchen. You head out, letting the doors softly close behind you. You can hear voices coming from the bar, slowly approaching to stretch your time even more.

“So, how long do you think she’ll last?”

You pause at Alex’s voice, tucking yourself against the wall just before you can come into view of the bar.

“Who? The bird?” Soap asks. You peer around the wall, trying to catch a glimpse of the two. Kyle is nowhere to be seen, Soap sitting at the bar with a half-full beer, and Alex stood on the other side of the counter leaning on his elbows.

Alex scoffs, “Who else?”

“Seems like a tough lass,” Soap shrugs, taking a generous sip. “I give her a month.”

“That’s generous.”

“How long d'you have her pegged for, then?”

“Two weeks, max,” Alex answers instantly.

Soap lets out a low whistle, chuckling into his beer bottle

“Ye of little faith.”

Little faith, indeed.

And if you weren’t sure of this job before, you’ve suddenly found enough spite to fuel you for months to come.

-

You make it three weeks before you meet anyone else at The 141.

The days pass in relative monotony, everyone leaving you to your own devices. Kyle shadows you sometimes, offering small talk that’s more him asking you questions and you giving vague, barely enough answers to soothe his interest. You occasionally catch Ghost lurking around the darker areas of the club, meeting his distrustful gaze with your own bright smile and a teasing wink. Mostly, you see Soap and Alex, who are content to say nothing more than a few polite hello’s and goodbyes. They gossip like fishwives, though, whispering and murmuring to each other when they think you’re out of earshot.

Sometimes it’s about you—how long you’ll last, where you’re from, whether or not you’re single.

Other times you catch stories of people you aren’t familiar with. Two weeks ago, it was something about a couple fighting for the fifth time in three days, Alex and Soap wondering if they’d finally break things off. Last week, it was a three-day saga about a giant bug—you think it was a roach—in Soap’s flat. This week, you overhear what must be an old story about Kyle’s traumatic first time in a helicopter and his subsequent fear of heights.

You walk in, the early morning light following behind you, ready to spend your time kinda-sorta cleaning and eavesdropping on the continuation of Kyle’s third time almost falling out of a helicopter.

You look to the bar first when you enter, searching for Alex and Soap to give them the same polite smile and small wave you’ve given them every morning. Instead, you find the bar vacant and the two men absent.

But the club isn’t empty.

A man and a woman stand at one of the pool tables, cue sticks in hand, staring down at the balls scattered across the red baize. Well, the man is staring. The woman leans against her cue stick, head tilted mockingly at her partner.

The man’s dressed in a uniform similar to Ghost’s—all black and covering every inch of skin, only without the face cover—his black hair messily slicked back and thick brows furrowed in a mix of confusion and frustration at the game before him. His opponent stands across the table from him, her short, jet-black hair perfectly framing her tilted head. Dressed a bit more colorfully in a form-fitting black turtleneck with no sleeves tucked into deep red pants, she lifts a heeled boot to impatiently tap her toe against the floor and gives you a perfect view of her red bottoms. Both are adorned with various pieces of gold jewelry: a thin chain necklace and belt for her, and a watch and assortment of rings for him.

You can only describe them the same way you can the rest of the club’s workers—stunning.

She catches sight of you first, no movement except for the way her eyes sharply turn to meet yours. Her smile pulls to the side, tongue running over her teeth as her gaze slides back to her partner. You see her mouth moving, the man breaking his attention away from the table to look at her. She nods her head towards you, and he follows her direction.

You default to a smile, unsure of what to do in the lingering silence as they stare at you, and you stare back at them.

“You must be the new girl, yeah?” the woman asks.

“Yeah, I-”

The man speaks up, cutting you off, “The bird, right? Kestrel? Wren?”

“Canary.”

“I told you it wasn’t Wren,” the woman smirks, much to the man’s apparent annoyance.

“And you have to be right about everything, of course,” he scoffs. She gasps in mock offense, setting a manicured hand to her chest.

“And you two are?” you ask before they can continue.

“Alejandro,” the man smiles before he looks to his partner, and it instantly drops. She waves her sharp nails at him, and Alejandro rolls his eyes. “This is Valeria,” he says flatly.

“Nice to meet you both, but if you don’t mind I have to-”

“No, no, no, come join us for a round. You play, right, avecita?” Valeria returns your smile—all teeth and with a look that sets you on edge—holding her cue stick out towards you.

“Not well,” you laugh.

“Ah, that’s fine.” She waves you off, pulling the cue stick away to circle the table. She reminds you of a vulture, circling high above the clouds, waiting for its prey to die. “You can’t be any worse than Alejandro.”

She laughs, all tease and silk, trailing a hand along Alejandro’s shoulders as she walks past him. He huffs, harshly shrugging her off.

“You’d be surprised,” you mutter. Valeria turns to you, and you get a distinct feeling that this isn’t a woman who likes to be told no. “I can show you after my shift if you’re still up for it?” you offer.

She lights up at that, Alejandro scoffing behind her and mumbling something to himself.

“I’ll hold you to that.” She turns away from you and back to the game, and you hurriedly make your way to your cart.

They spend the entire morning at the table, playing round after round after round. Their banter echoes through the empty club, following you through every room. You don’t mind it too much; they’re more entertaining than Soap and Alex’s quiet gossip.

Valeria wins every game but one—the last round going to Alejandro in a win you’re convinced he was allowed to have. He celebrates the final round with some minor gloating and a kiss with Valeria that takes you by surprise.

They end just as your lunch break begins, and you stack your supplies back onto your cart. As you finish putting your things away, you hear a set of doors open, the mouth-watering scent of spiced meat flooding the room.

A third man walks out from the kitchen, wheeling a serving cart with a large, polished cloche sitting atop it. He pulls it over to Alejandro and Valeria, the latter immediately removing the covering to peek at what’s beneath while the former greets the man with a quick kiss. Valeria sets the cloche aside, revealing three bowls of what you assume is making that inviting smell. Alejandro praises the man, sliding an arm around his waist while Valeria picks up a spoon to taste whatever’s in the bowls.

It must be good, judging by the way she tilts her head back and moans. The man smirks triumphantly, Alejandro going beat red and turning away. He spots you, and you give him a small smile, looking back down at your cart in hopes he doesn’t realize you’ve been staring.

“New girl! Canary!”

Well, shit.

“Come meet Rudy,” Alejandro calls. You dust your hands off on your jeans, walking over with a sheepish smile. The man—the chef?—Rudy, leans in to whisper to Alejandro before giving you a courteous smile. His dark hair’s kind of messy, sticking to his damp forehead. His eyes are big and brown and just as quick as they are soft, with a jawline sharp enough to cut yourself on. He’s handsome—as everyone at this club seems to be—if a little standoffish.

“Nice to meet you,” you smile, holding your hand out to him. He shakes it, leaning forward to reach but not leaving Alejandro’s side.

“Likewise,” he smiles back. Valeria groans from the side, and the three of you turn to her, your eyes falling to the food. It’s some kind of broth filled with rice, potatoes, and various vegetables, with meatballs set in a small circle.

It looks as appetizing as it smells, and you try to ignore the painful way your stomach clenches at the sight.

“Did you make this?” you ask Rudy.

“I was just experimenting. We’re working on a new menu,” he explains, pink blossoming on his cheeks.

“Just experimenting, he says,” Valeria scoffs. “You have to add this. I’d kill a man for this.”

“You want to try some, Canary?” Alejandro asks, picking up one of the spoons to hand it to you.

“It’s a club recipe,” Rudy says, giving Alejandro a pointed look. “Meant to be shared with family.”

“Avecita hasn’t earned her wings yet,” Valeria laughs, warning laced through her voice. It’s a command. An order. Alejandro gives you an apologetic smile, setting the spoon back down on the table.

It’s fine. You get it.

You’d be afraid to go against Valeria too.

But you know that delicious smell will seep into the fabric of your clothes to follow you back to your motel. And maybe, just maybe, you can inhale that delectable smell and pretend that your peanut butter sandwich on slightly stale bread is the same unique recipe and that you might have a family to share it with one day.

-

Towards the end of the next week, you arrive at the club nearly an hour early.

The heat in your motel room had shut off in the middle of the night, leaving you stuck in the freezing cold of winter’s relentless bite and unable to fall back asleep. Bundled up in the only long-sleeved shirt you had and your denim jacket, you tried to huddle beneath your sheets, but the too-thin fabric did little to help.

Winter’s barely begun, and already she’s fixing to screw you over.

Note to self: Get the hell out of here before the cold months start.

You tried calling your landlord, even knocking on his door, but both attempts resulted in silence.

In the end, you left to your car—deciding to burn some cash for gas to drive around the empty streets and warm yourself with the heater. It smelled like burning dust and blew in varying levels of hotness, but it was better than the unwelcoming iciness of your motel room.

You drove until it was nearly time for your shift, pulling into the back parking lot of the club in the pale blue hours of the morning. With the seats unable to lean back, you sat up straight, head bobbed to the side, getting in a rough thirty-minute nap before your watch beeped at you.

Which leaves you here, crabby and sore as you fight to get your car door shut. It takes a few tries—and a frustrated kick or two—to get it closed and locked.

You wrap your arms around your middle, trying to seal the heat from the car inside your clothes. The walk to the front of the club seems too long a trek in the frigid air. You glance around, spotting the back door to the kitchen.

Why would they put a door there if it wasn’t meant to be used?

It’s open—the lights on—but all you can think about is the sudden rush of hot air that blasts into your face. You shut the door behind you, taking a moment to lean against the wall and revel in the warmth, careful not to let your eyes fall shut.

You give yourself a few minutes to let the warmth seep into your skin before pushing yourself off the wall and heading toward the main room.

You look to the bar first, searching for Soap and Alex out of habit. Neither are there, but there is a man sitting on one of the stools.

He’s dressed in a worn leather jacket, dark aviators covering his eyes, and slicked-back hair that you can tell from the shine is probably stiff and plastered to his head. He has a half-empty bottle of vodka—one of the expensive ones from the top shelf—sitting in front of him next to a half-empty glass and smokes a cigarette that he ashes on the bar top.

You’ve never seen this man before, and if you had actually gotten some sleep, you might have thought more about who he was. But today, you’re off your game and irritated at the pile of ash you’ll have to clean up, so instead, you call out—

“We’re closed right now.”

You don’t bother looking at him, making your way up the steps and grabbing an ashtray from the end of the bar top. You set it down in front of him—a little harsher than necessary—with a wholly unimpressed look. You know you must look a sight, wind-whipped with bags under your eyes.

“And we have these, y’know. In case you missed them.”

The man’s brows raise as he leans back, the lines of his forehead sinking deeper with the movement. You can’t see his eyes, but the way his head moves down, then up, then down again tells you everything you need to know about where he’s looking.

“He’s fine, Canary!” someone calls out behind you before you get to say something. You turn to the game tables, where you're met with a gaggle of your co-workers watching you in various stages of amusement.

Alex and Soap lean against one of the pool tables, snickering to each other while Kyle stands across from them, leaning back with a cue stick in hand and a poorly hidden smile on his face. Ghost and Alejandro stand on either side of the table, Alejandro looking down to hide his laughter and Ghost as unmoving and stoic as ever.

You look back to the man at the bar, then to the group, then the man, then the group again before you finally shut your eyes and take a long breath.

In, out. In, out.

Your father’s voice rings in the back of your head, blaring and disappointed: What have I told you? Always be aware of your surroundings!

Your left shoulder aches straight down to the bone.

In, out. In, out.

You’re not yourself today. You’re okay. You’re safe here.

“Did we scare you?” Alejandro laughs, the snickering behind him increasing.

“You all need matching uniforms, or hats, or something,” you speak up, your voice even and composure restored. “Hell, matching nail polish would work.”

“Nik doesn’t work here; he drives for my father,” Kyle explains, handing his stick to Ghost and heading toward the bar. You can’t help but let your eyes wander to the half-empty vodka bottle, turning back to Kyle with a raised brow. He puts his hands up, making a face that says it’s not his business, so you let it go. He smiles as he passes you��tight-lipped and apologetic like the one managers give to customers they can’t help.

The man, Nik, laughs behind you, deep and rough as if he’s just woken up, clapping Kyle on the back as the young man joins him at the bar.

“Your dad finally found you a girl, huh?! Good for you! She’s a little plain, but not bad for проститутка. Ни рыба ни мясо, you know?”

If it were any other day, you’d have let it go, but your stress is bubbling up, roiling and mixing with your lack of sleep and irritation at the entire day until it boils over.

You round on him before you can stop yourself, “Я тебе покажу, где раки зимуют. Заруби ceбe на носу.”

Nik and Kyle look entirely taken aback—Nik more impressed than offended—and the snickering behind you comes to an immediate halt. You scold yourself for slipping as the room lapses into stunned silence.

Ghost is the first to break it.

“You speak Russian?”

It's an accusation, not a question; if he wasn't suspicious of you before, he certainly is now. You don’t blame him. You know what it means to hear Russian spoken nearby.

You feign ignorance, turning back to him with a slight tilt of your head.

“Yeah?”

His eyes narrow, staring you down as his hand clenches around the cue stick. “Didn’t mention that when you started,” he all but growls at you.

“No one asked,” you shrug, doing your best to downplay the situation. You glance over your shoulder at Kyle—ignoring the way Nik is now beaming at you.

“Can I get to work?” you ask, ready to find a small corner to hide in so you can nap somewhere that isn’t below freezing.

“Yeah, go ahead.” Kyle nods, and you nod back, heading for your cleaning cart. You can hear Alex and Soap whispering to each other, Alejandro’s voice joining in. Ghost’s eyes never leave you, his sharp glare following you the entire way, and then continuing to watch as you pack your arms full of supplies and head upstairs.

You peer down at him when you reach the top few steps, just as he looks away and off to the side. You follow his line of sight to the office doors, one swung open with your boss leaning against the frame and looking directly at you.

You look away, rushing the rest of the way up the steps.

-

You’re surprisingly busy during your seventh week; the club is in preparation for a big business party that’s supposed to be good for networking or something.

You’re kept in the dark about the goings on within the club. In truth, you prefer it this way—less chance to get attached. Not that you’re given much chance for attachment; everyone, save for Kyle, seems determined to keep you at arm’s length.

Soap sits at the bar, chatting quietly to Ghost as the masked man stands beside him. Soap faces forward, but Ghost leans back on his elbows against the bar top. They watch the stage, where a man you haven’t met works to lay out and adjust the sound equipment. They ignore you, for the most part, Soap giving you an occasional smile while Ghost fixes you with an annoyed glare every time you pass by. The man working on the stage hasn’t even looked in your direction.

It’s unexpectedly peaceful, and you work with impressive efficiency.

Kyle wasn’t strict about breaks—and his father hadn’t spoken to you since the day you met him—so you decide to take them as you see fit.

Halfway through your second break of the day, you pass by the stage, carefully navigating around the piles of cables and sound equipment. So focused on watching your steps, you don’t see the man drop down from the stage and directly into your path until you collide into his side.

“Shit, I’m so sorry,” you say, staggering to keep yourself from falling over. The man is unmoved, not even sparing you a glance. His hair is a sandy brown—maybe dirty blonde—and sticks to his slightly damp forehead. His eyes are covered by a pair of dark sunglasses, but you think you catch a glimpse of brown from the side. He’s dressed in all black—what a surprise—but significantly more casual than anyone else you’ve seen. A fitted shirt turtleneck with rolled sleeves, gloves, and jeans; the only nonblack item of clothing on him is the large set of dark blue headphones covering his ears. You can faintly hear the echoes of a rock song coming from them.

He winds a long cable in his hands, nodding his head along to whatever’s blasting in his eardrums. You stand for a moment, waiting to see if he’ll say something or acknowledge you, but he doesn’t; the only thing he pays attention to is the cable in his hand.

When he gets to the end, the cable a perfect continuous loop, it’s been made clear you’re not needed—and probably not wanted—here. You take a step forward, fully prepared to move around the man, when he suddenly reaches out, holding the wound-up cable out to you.

You’re not sure what you’re supposed to do with it, but he doesn’t say anything—doesn’t even look at you. He just holds it out, focusing on the various amps and cables in front of him on the stage.

Am I supposed to…take this?

You cautiously wrap a hand around the cable, waiting to make sure this is what he wants. The man moves into action, shoving the cable further up your arm, so it hangs at your elbow before picking up another one from the stage. He sets it in your hands, grabbing the end and beginning his winding once more.

“Um, excuse me?” you call out, watching the cable slide across your hand and into his coil. He doesn’t respond, working diligently and ignoring your existence entirely.

He finishes in record time, this time tossing the wound-up cable at you the moment he’s done. You stumble but catch it, barely being given enough time to hang it on your arm before he’s setting another cable in your hand.

This continues two more times before you give up, leaving him to his work and surrendering to your new life as his cable stand.

You’ve got both arms covered in cables, with two hanging from your neck, when you notice Soap and Ghost still at the bar. Ghost is sitting down now, facing away from the stage, but Soap—

Soap is leaning on his elbow against the bar top, smiling and laughing and definitely looking right at you.

He glances back to Ghost occasionally, carrying on whatever—what you’re sure is one-sided—conversation they’re having. You wait until he looks back at you, meeting his eyes and mouthing help me. His grin grows wider, if possible, shoulders shaking as he clearly laughs at you.

He looks back to Ghost, hitting the masked man on the arm a few times. Ghost barely turns his head in Soap’s direction, and Soap says something, nodding in your direction. Ghost looks over his shoulder, catching sight of you as Soap bursts with laughter.

“Lookin’ good, hen!” Soap yells out. You lift your left arm as high as you can with four cables wrapped around it to flip him off. All you get is a cackle in response.

Ghost, however, seems to take pity on you. He stands from the bar, making his way toward you with Soap traipsing behind. You let out a small sigh of relief, hoping he’ll take some of the cables, but he stops just next to you. He fixes you with that shadowy glare, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Your break ended ten minutes ago.”

You don’t know why you expected any different.

“Tell him that,” you scoff, nodding toward your unintentional captor. Soap chuckles, taking up the role of your savior and grabbing the cables from your left arm. Ghost moves to the man, pulling the headphones down around his neck. The man jumps, dropping his cable and turning to Ghost.

“Don’t mind Roach,” Soap says, nodding back at the man who’s nodding along to whatever Ghost is murmuring to him. “Lad’s got a bit of a one-track mind. You set him to a task, and he won’t stop ‘til he’s done.”

Soap takes the cables from your arms—the immediate relief bringing tears to your eyes—stacking them on the stage.

“His name is Roach?” you ask, peeling the large cables from around your neck.

“Sure is.”

You don’t know why you’re surprised. You’re talking to a man named Soap, of all things.

“Are these like codenames or something?”

Soap barks out a laugh, “Comin’ from the woman named Canary!”

“I—yeah, fair enough.” Soap gives you a wide, toothy grin, leaning back against the stage. You turn to watch Ghost and Roach, Ghost speaking quietly to him. Occasionally, Ghost looks up over Roach’s head and directly at you, glaring at you before returning his attention to Roach. You’d be nervous if you cared, but your attention is elsewhere as you watch Roach remove his gloves and gesture to Ghost. It doesn’t take long for you to realize.

He’s signing.

Your eyes are fixated on Roach’s hands, watching their fluid movement in awe. You try to catch what few signs you know, but they don’t seem to be discussing military tactics, so you’re at a bit of a loss.

Ghost must catch you because he clears his throat and startles you out of your gaze.

“You can go back to work now,” he states, harsh and non-negotiating. “We aren’t paying you to stand around.”

You kind of are.

Roach turns to you, facing you for the first time. He gives you a broad smile and signs something to you that makes Ghost roll his eyes.

“He says it’s nice to meet you,” Soap translates, watching as Roach continues. “And he’s sorry for not noticing you.”

“It’s fine. No harm done.”

Roach nods at you, turning back to Ghost, the conversation seemingly shifting to whatever he was working on.

“I’m gonna get back to it,” you tell Soap. “Don’t wanna get in trouble.” You send Ghost a not-so-subtle look that makes Soap chuckle.

“He just needs some time to warm up t’ya. Don’t worry ‘bout it,” he winks.

You really doubt that, but you’ll take what you can get. You head back to your cart, glancing back to watch Soap join the two, clapping Roach on the back before sliding an arm around his shoulders. It’s sweet, the way they interact; Soap’s endless well of charisma and charm gives him the ability to make anyone feel at ease.

Roach signs something that makes Soap laugh, and you feel the smile growing on your face.

Until you look two inches to the left and meet Ghost’s bone-chilling glare aimed directly at you.

You roll your eyes, turning your attention back to your cart.

Needs time to warm up to me, my ass.

-

Kyle has the brilliant idea to rearrange the rooms on the second floor, recruiting you the moment you walk into the club. The entire morning is spent helping him move couches and game tables, and chairs with few breaks in between.

You’re trying to move one of the absurdly heavy tables down into the main room when Kyle gets a call. The two of you balance the table well enough on the steps before he pulls his phone from his back pocket to check the number.

“You mind if I take this?”

He doesn’t give you much choice, answering the call immediately after asking. It doesn’t sound like a particularly interesting conversation, and you tune it out in favor of using these few precious minutes to lean against the stair railing for a well-earned breather. You keep your side against the table while Kyle keeps a tight hand on the other end to keep it from sliding down the steps.

“No, no, that’s not—“ You’ve never heard Kyle raise his voice—he's always scarily calm, just like his father—but it goes up a few decibels now. You can’t help looking at him with mild surprise, raising a brow in question and concern. He smiles back at you—too quick to be genuine—before turning entirely away from you and speaking into the phone in hushed tones.

It takes another minute of heated whispering before he hangs up, turning back to you with another smile—apologetic this time.

“Everything alright?” you ask.

“Oh, yeah. Everything’s fine. Great. Um, would you mind if I just—“ He maneuvers his way around the game table, moving down the steps toward you. “I’ll be right back, I promise. I just have to have to go handle something.”

“What? We’re still moving this thing,” you try to reason, but he continues past you and down the steps in an unusually nervous hurry.

“It’s fine where it’s at! I’ll be back in ten minutes!” he calls back as he rushes towards the door.

“Kyle!”

“You’ve got this!” The end of his sentence is punctuated by the slamming of the front doors, and, just like that, you’re left in the club by yourself.

It takes far longer than ten minutes, and by the thirty-minute mark, you’re tired of waiting.

The table isn’t that heavy, right?

You could probably lift it yourself.

All you have to do is move one step at a time.

You make it two-and-a-half steps before you try to call it quits. You’ve taken Kyle’s spot further up the stairs, holding the table under its top with both hands to keep it from sliding down the half-step it’s stuck on and barreling down the rest of the staircase. It definitely is that heavy, and the worry that you won’t be able to hold it until Kyle—or anyone—gets back has seeped into your brain.

You don’t know how long you hold it—you can’t look at your watch without letting go of the table; a chance you won’t take—but the burn in your arms tells you you’ll be sore for the coming days.

You try counting backward, distracting yourself with a one-sided game of i-spy, thinking of all your favorite childhood movies. Anything to distract from the way sweat begins to collect on your palms.

You settle on deep breaths, looking up to the ceiling with a long inhale and exhaling with your eyes shut.

It works well enough, keeping your mind busy.

Too busy, it would seem, as you don’t hear the footsteps coming down the stairs behind you.

Your eyes shoot open as the weight is suddenly—blessedly—lifted from your hands. Stretching the soreness to a manageable degree with a soft groan, you turn to thank your savior.

The tallest man you have ever seen stands behind you, holding the end of the table in one hand. It hurt your neck to look Ghost in the eye for too long, but you have to crane your neck to even get a glimpse of this man’s chin.

He bends to get his hands under the tabletop and gives you a better view of his face.

Not that there’s much face to be seen.

All black from head to toe, just like Ghost. And just like Ghost, this man wears a mask covering the lower half of his face. His isn’t painted and is pulled up high over his hooked nose, almost reaching his bottom lashes. His hair is a rusty red, long enough to tuck behind his ears, with a few strands falling into his face as he lifts the game table and pulls it toward him.

He pauses, glancing over at you in surprise like he’s just noticed you’re there. His eyes are hazel, pale green mixing with a thick outline of soft brown. You don’t know if it’s the lack of black, smoky eye and permanent glare that Ghost carries, but something about this man seems far friendlier—puts you at ease with an uncomfortably new sense of safety.

He stares at you for a brief moment, taking in your figure, every-so-often flitting back up to your face. Without a word, he pulls the table back into a secure spot before standing up to his total—massive—height. He slides past you with a quiet “‘Tschuldigung.” until he stands next to the table.

Your jaw drops as he bends, sliding his hands under the table to lift it entirely off the ground. He carries it the rest of the rest down the steps without a word or so much as breaking a sweat. All you can do is follow behind, staring in disbelief at this helpful giant.

What the hell are they feeding these guys?

He sets the game table down at the bottom of the steps, nudging it out of the way with his leg like it’s nothing. He turns his head, catching you coming down the steps, and his deep-set eyes narrow, not in the cold, suspiciously dangerous way that Ghost’s do, but instead paired with the way his mask rises with his cheeks as if he’s smiling.

“Thank you,” is all you can say.

He nods, attention drifting from you to the rest of the club. You don’t know what—or who—he’s looking for, but it’s just the two of you here.

“I’m Canary,” you say with a small smile, moving down a few steps so you can be at eye level with him. He turns back to you, and you hold your hand out to him.

He grasps your hand gently, muttering something under his breath that you can’t quite catch before looking you straight in the eye.

“König,” he says with a small nod.

That explains the German, you laugh to yourself. König lets go of your hand, looking back around the club, and you can’t help but wonder—

When the hell did the 141 starting working with the Germans?

“Excuse me, but—” he says, looking back down at you, “—I’m looking for—“

“I’m back!” You both jump at the sudden shouting, turning just in time to see Kyle rushing in from the front doors, eyes still fixated on his phone. “I had to handle something. You can yell at me for it later, but I’m here now, so we can—“

He’s only a few steps away when he finally looks up and notices the two of you. His eyes travel from you to König, to the game table behind him.

“Guess you didn’t need my help, after all,” Kyle laughs.

“No, I definitely did,” you counter, folding your arms across your chest. Usually, you’d try to hide any wincing or evidence of pain, but you’re feeling petty. And if you exaggerate how much your arms hurt—just a little—Kyle will never know. “Damn near lost an arm.”

“It won’t happen again, I promise.” Kyle makes a small x over his chest, just above his heart, fixing you with that bright, customer-service smile.

“Have you seen your father?” König asks. His voice isn’t soft but quiet, speaking lowly but just enough for you and Kyle to hear.

“Not today,” Kyle sighs. “Anything I can do for you?”

König gives you a quick glance, looking back at Kyle, who seems to take the hint.

“We can talk in the office,” Kyle says, gesturing toward the back office. König nods, following Kyle as the young man heads across the room.

“You can head home, Canary! I appreciate the help today!” Kyle calls over his shoulder. König turns on his heel, walking backward without breaking his stride.

“Es hat mich gefreut Sie kennenzulernen. Um, nice meeting you!” he calls, giving you a quick nod. You return it, adding a small wave as he turns back around and disappears into the office with Kyle.

You let out a long breath, leaning against the railing.

British, American, Mexican, German...Russian. If your father were alive, seeing the extensive reach of The 141 would surely kill him.

Either that or he’d be offering you on a silver platter for the chance to sink his claws in; you knew how powerful of a bargaining chip you were. Had it happened, you’d have hated it, you’re sure. Fighting tooth and nail, scraping against the floorboards to keep from being dragged out of your home and sent into some stranger's arms.

Looking back on it now, though…

That might’ve been the better option. Better a silver platter than a silver cage, and no stranger could’ve been crueler than—

Your left shoulder burns, the muscles in your arm tightening into an unbearable vice.

Choices were given. Decisions were made.

The past is the past.

All you have left is the future.

-

Translations:

проститутка - a prostitute Ни рыба ни мясо - neither fish nor meat; an idiom used to describe someone who is average or not memorable Я тебе покажу, где раки зимуют - i will show you where lobsters (crawfish) spend the winter; "i’ll teach you a lesson; I’ll give you something to remember me by" Заруби ceбe на носу - make a notch on your nose; "mark my words" - ‘Tschuldigung - sorry; excuse me Es hat mich gefreut Sie kennenzulernen - it was a pleasure meeting you; nice to meet you

taglist: @sleepyendymion, @blazedprince, @blueoorchid, @ohgodthebogisback, @melancholyy-hill, @wasteland-babe, @meepetteoneonly, @anitaebee, @honeyr4ven, @curasimp, @jxvipike, @frazie99, @reiya-djarin, @urfavsunkissedleo, @hauntingtherosebush,

[petrolstationflowers]

Do your sims yearn for the dark embrace of the mines? Obsess over shiny stones, have a collection of hard hats? Why not give the Mining career a go, where they can dig up all the dirt and rocks they desire! This is the last in the batch of requests from Catrillion

This job is available for YA - Elder, and you can join via the Science Lab. No opportunities, uniforms, or books. Please note you will need Ambitions installed as you need the hidden Collecting and Consignment skills.

Three skill tones are available at work, with no boss or coworkers:

Swing Pickaxe (Athletics) Gather Resources (Collecting) Sell Findings (Consignment)

Please note Collecting and Consignment are both hidden skills, which you can track through MasterController. Athletics and Collecting appear at Level 2, but Consignment won't appear until level five. The carpool will also not show up until level 5. This career only goes up to level 8.

Levels under the readmore:

Pet Rock Collector - 10 simoleans p/h, 12:00 - 16:00, M-F Description - You’re down to eating wildflower salads and artistically stacking rocks you find in the park because you can’t afford decor. Times are tough and the grocery store isn’t hiring – what to do? Luckily the old mines have just opened up again and they’ll accept anyone without claustrophobia and enjoys hitting rocks. It’s better than the unemployment office, so get applying! Human Canary - 12 simoleans p/h, 06:00 - 14:00, M-F Description - Nothing quite says “expendable,” like being told to monitor the gas levels lest they get too high. You’ve been given a box with a scary looking radar and a blinking light and told when the box starts beeping, sound the alarm and tell your fellow miners to get out. If you don’t die from carbon monoxide poisoning, there actually might be a career in this! Cart Pusher - 15 simoleans p/h, 06:00 - 14:00, M-F Description - Another unfortunate soul gets to be the canary now you’ve moved on to bigger and better things. Granted, it’s only wheeling carts of coal and mined ore along the tracks so they can be sent to the surface, but you’re getting your step count in and there’s less danger of suffocating. Do a good job and you might actually get to sit down next time you’re promoted! Rock Inspector - 20 simoleans p/h, 14:00 - 22:00, M-F Description - A chair… a coffee machine… central heating… after too long working underground, this is bliss. You’re tasked with sorting the rocks into anything that might be remotely valuable, sorting your pebbles from your coal, your diamonds from your quartz. You’ll need a keen eye to tell them apart and plenty of patience, so stock up on podcasts and polish your magnifying glass. Consignment Carrier - 25 simoleans p/h, 09:00 - 17:00, M-F Description - Finally, out into the fresh air! Your bosses have deemed you trustworthy enough to take the gems and coal to the local consignment store and barter the best prices for them. Strong arms are a must, as well as the gift of the gab – because if you get short changed, it’ll be coming out your pocket. Money Seeking Miner - 50 simoleans p/h, 06:00 - 14:00, M-F Description - Fresh air is great and all, but there’s gold in them hills and you’ve got bills to pay. Since there’s been talk of mysterious yellow eyes in the mine, workers have quit en masse and management are offering big incentives to get back down in the pit. Plus they’ve promised that if you find anything fun, you get to keep it! Gem Seeker - 75 simoleans p/h, 06:00 - 14:00, M-F Description - The mines are lovely, dark, and deep, and you’ve spent so many hours down here, you’re forgetting what sunlight looks like. You’re in the more lucrative veins now, digging out gold and rubies as big as your hand, but you’ve heard of the legendary pink diamond and are determined to find it. Who knows, maybe that’s your ticket out of here? Mine Owner - 250 simoleans p/h, 10:00 - 16:00, M-F Description - You’ve found it, the pink diamond in the rough! After swiftly selling it for millions of simoleans, you’re making enough to take over the mine itself and take over operations! What will you look for? Rainbow gems? Shang Simlan artefacts? Perhaps pull up as many space rocks as you can to try and entice the aliens? On the flip side, maybe you should get back into painting pet rocks with all your free time…

Translations: I've included the English Strings in the file; if anyone is talented enough to translate, I would be incredibly grateful, so please let me know in the comments!

With thanks: To MissyHissy's career building tutorial!

[serafiel-jacobs]

His Favorite (Fanfic)

Angst One Shot about Geppetto's favorite Puppet💛

“Giuseppe Geppetto, it’s an honor for me to interview the father of all puppets”

Geppetto would have rather not done this interview, yet here he is, representing the Workshop Union, as it is his duty as the director, “Please, that’s quite the title, you can call me Geppetto if you like”

“Well Mr. Geppetto, there is no denying the success you and your puppets have, I suppose you are excited about the showcase of the Grand Exhibition”

“Yes… it has been on my mind”

It seems now that enough time has passed where people no longer give their condolences once they see him, why should they? He should have moved on by now.

“Wonderful, I’ve been informed that not just newer models will be involved but a showcase of previous ones, a brief history of their creation so to speak”

That was his idea, Venigni suggested they should focus on their new technology, he is not fond of the puppets that were created before the Grand Covenant, however, he worked hard to make all of those models, old and new, “That is correct, all puppets ever created will have their spotlight”

“I am quite curious, and I believe I speak for a lot of people when I ask this… which is your favorite puppet? What is your greatest creation?”

—-

Geppetto looked at the boy, standing still in front of him, quietly, he never spoke unless spoken to, how long had he been standing there waiting for him to say something?

“Oh please forgive me, I was just consumed in some old memories”

The boy nods, saying how he just came back from the Grand Exhibition, telling him about what the alchemists were scheming. Geppetto knew he should have never trusted them, it’s all their fault this happened, spreading that damned disease, it’s their fault he…

Geppetto takes a deep breath, composing himself, “This must be devastating for Antonia, you should keep her company in these hard times”

Again, the boy nods, so dutiful, so obedient towards him. He is almost out of the door when Geppetto calls for him again, how foolish of him, he almost forgot. Opening one of the drawers in his desk and standing up, the two of them now in front of each other.

“I have a gift for you”

Geppetto smiles, revealing a necklace that has a small quartz as its decoration, not a real one of course, those are too valuable to waste on a necklace, rather one he made himself out of the limited tools he has instead. Gently putting it around his neck, the boy smiling widely at him.

“Do you like it?”

He nods enthusiastically, he loves it and makes his feelings well known to his father.

“A precious gift to someone who is very precious to me,” Geppetto played with his hair, everything was well, everything should have been perfect.

Yet something in the back of his mind bothered him.

“… You wouldn’t give this to anyone else would you?”

The boy shakes his head, it’s a special gift from his father, and he would never give it away to anyone else.

“That’s good,” Geppetto breathed a sigh of relief, “Thank you, for always being such a good boy to me”

Geppetto extended his arms, at first the boy was a little confused until he realized his father was going to hug him, so ecstatic that he forgot to manage his force, being a little too forceful with his father as they hugged each other, apologizing immediately, making Geppetto laugh.

“It’s okay, I’m happy you think so fondly of me,” Geppetto looked at him, no, he looked behind him, at that painting, “Soon, the two of us will be the family we were always meant to be”

—-

Geppetto took a deep breath, stepping inside Hotel Krat, blood splattered across the entrance, he sighed, something for him to clean up later. Slowly walking into the front lobby, his age makes it so he has a harder time these days, feeling how the puppets had their gaze on him, staring directly and intensely, he paid them no mind. It was a rushed job, he can polish them up later once he has the proper tools, for now, he has other priorities.

Upstairs, he enters the room, having no time to say anything before Carlo almost tackles him with a hug, ecstatic to his father again.

“Carlo, I’m so happy to see you too,” Geppetto smiled, looking at his son, wiping some blood out of his face, “What happened this time?”

“Some people came,” Carlo smiled back at him, “I didn’t like them, they didn’t want to play with me”

Not the first time this happens, it looks like he is going to have to make some adjustments to the security system of the Hotel. He should have done that when he deactivated the stargazer, but it doesn’t matter now, he won’t let anyone else enter, they could hurt his precious son. This is for Carlo’s sake too, so far he hasn’t tried to sneak out, yet Geppetto worries he might do so one of these days, he is a good boy just… a little mischievous from time to time, and he cannot allow that.

“Son, you have your toys to play downstairs with, you don’t need more playmates,” Geppetto played with his hair, “But if you are feeling lonely, I can build you more”

Carlo pointed at the chair on the opposite side of the room, “I want that one!”

Geppetto turned to look at it, on the floor was the box, opened, and on that chair…

“It’s going to be difficult Carlo,” Geppetto’s voice was gentle trying not to upset him, “He needs a heart, one like yours”

“Can’t I give him half of mine?” Carlo pouted.

“No, sweetheart that’s not how it works,” Geppetto touched Carlo’s chest, his gray and decayed skin made it almost feel numb. His fingers began to glow, the mechanism working as intended. It’s all looking good, his heart is stable, there are no issues, there shouldn’t be any issues, yet does this constantly, as a father, he needs to be sure.

Taking his palm away, Carlo cries out in pain, Geppetto comforting him, saying how everything is going to be alright, that soon, they can be the family they were always meant to be.

“Father-”

“Carlo, it’s getting late, I don’t want you staying up for too long,” Geppetto’s voice was now firm, “You know it’s time for you to go to bed”

Carlo pouted again, he didn’t want to go to bed, but now his chest hurts really badly. It always hurts when father does that, it’s for his own good, that’s what his father says. Because his heart is special, no one else has a heart like his, Carlo knows his father is right because each time someone comes here, he takes theirs away, and none of them have his kind of heart.

“I’ll be there in a moment, there is something I need to do first”

Carlo nodded, quickly leaving the room. Once again, Geppetto took a deep breath, making his way towards the chair, he really needs to find a way for Carlo to stop snooping around his belongings. He carries the boy in his arms and carefully sets him inside the box, his eyes closed looking as if he was sleeping, the boy had asked him before what sleeping felt like.

Geppetto touched his face gently, he is still wearing that necklace, making him smile, he never took it off, he never let anything bad happen to it, he wore it when he gave him the heart and he is still wearing it now.

Geppetto put his hands on the box ready to close it, his thoughts consuming him and making him stop. Thoughts about the alchemists, about the frenzy, how Carlo died, thoughts about the past…

“… which is your favorite puppet? What is your greatest creation?”

“Thank you, for always being such a good boy to me,” Geppetto couldn’t stop smiling now that he knew his answer, whispering the boy’s name one last time before sealing the box shut, not to be opened ever again.

[coldslaws-gear-station]

Whoop, finished the fic. As consequence you now must read it, dw it's not as long as the last one lol /lh /nf

Morning Routine

Ghetsis creaks his eyes open slowly, groggy from sleep and probably from his sleeping medication wearing off. He sits up, rubbing off the sleep collected around the edges of his eyes, no blanket in sight. Glancing over, he sees Alder hogging up all the blankets by basically cocooning himself inside them. Ghetsis smiles, it's kinda cute, you can see his hair sticking out from the top of the blankets, making him look like an oddly shaped Larvesta. Normally people would be upset about that kind of thing, but to be fair on his behalf, Ghetsis has paper thin skin, his body temperature is more susceptible to changes and that causes him to overheat quickly during the night. So having a blanket stealer is actually a pleasant thing rather than an annoyance.

He glances at the clock; 6:05 AM, by the time he's done doing his normal routine it'll be around 7, which is the time the kids would normally get up. Ghetsis pauses, glancing around the room for a moment. Sweet Atropos, sleeping all curled up at the end of his bed. Most people would be pretty strict on letting their companions sleep in the same bed as them, let alone a 5 '11 fluffy dragon, but they underestimate how ridiculously large his bed is. His bed alone stretches 108 x 108, that's enough to fit four grown adults! Why did he need such a big bed? Well, why not? He had the option to, so he did, but maybe he should've thought a little more harder about whether or not he should…

Honestly? As he's looking round his room, he's happier with the state it's gotten to. He recalls when his room used to be this pearly white, sterile, polished room, no dust in sight nor anything out of place… But now? He can see a few tapestries Alder had made laying about or hanging on the walls, the man's stuff littering the room is a disorganized mess, nothing calculatingly placed to make it look as neat as humanly possible… It's so comforting, it's so warm and cozy in here now, he had long become tired of basically living in a hospital-like room. On the wall beside him lies a dreamcatcher resting above his bed, a fairly large one, but to be fair it was made with Braviary feathers, Alder had insisted he make one for the room after being on the tail-end of one of Ghetsis' nightmare spells.

-

Ghetsis takes a stroll into the forest that rests within the valley, spotting a few feeders filled with nectar sitting within the trees for the bug type Pokémon living within. Usually he takes his strolls to the overarch bridge where the Swanna swim, finding solace with the swans, but he finds that he'd much prefer walking among nature this time. Along the nature walk he comes across a clearing, spotting Alder sitting cross legged on the grass, seemingly focused on something in his hands. Ghetsis approaches, a few of the bug type Pokémon sitting with Alder turn to look at him, bending over to look at what the man has in his hands.

"What are you doing?" "I'm making a dreamcatcher." A Galvantula rests next to him, spinning out some web that Alder is using to thread around the round piece of wood. A few Braviary feathers are placed on his sprawled out poncho beside him as well, along with a fairly sizable bead of rose quartz. "Oh? My, I haven't seen one of those in years, they were always too colourful and plastic-y for my tastes." Ghetsis sits down beside the man, peering over at his work, Alder scoffs and snarls. "I'm not making one of those cheap ass appropriated pieces of garbage, I'm making a real fucking dreamcatcher." Ghetsis tills his head, humming a sound of curiosity. "Appropriated? How so?"

"Dreamcatchers were made by my people, they're sacred to us as talismans, as symbols of spiritual protection. But when it became more widespread because of the movement, it became watered down into this cheap plastic wall hanger thing you hang up on some random wall in your room to 'catch bad dreams.' Now every bitch and their Boltund has one in their house as an 'aesthetic piece.' You can shove your aesthetic piece bullshit up your ass, my traditions aren't something you can just take and fucking exploit." Ghetsis nods along carefully, letting Alder get all his steam out. "Would you like to tell me about the tradition?"

Alder pauses and looks Ghetsis in the eye, looking for any form of trickery or sign he's making fun of him, but only to find sincerity. Alder turns his head back down to his work, "The history behind them really depends on the tribe, but I was taught the story associated with Asibikaashi." "What's the story associated with… Um." Alder hums, focused on his work without looking away for a moment. "Asibikaashi." Ghetsis nods, "Yes, that. I'm sorry, truly, I don't wish to butcher it by trying to say it…" He shrugs, dismissive. "It's fine. Asibikaashi provided our tribes with spiritual protection, however when our tribes began to expand and grow, the task became far too difficult for her to provide protection to those who had migrated to farther lands. So she created the dream catcher and taught it to all of the mothers and grandmothers within our tribes, so she could protect them from a distance."

Ghetsis kept quiet, he had probably been itching to talk about his culture for a while now. Besides, he finds this sort of stuff to be very interesting. "They were designed to keep bad dreams, nightmares, and evil away from sleepers and especially our children. The air at night is filled with dreams, both good and bad, so these catchers would obviously catch them. The good dreams are able to slip through and softly descend down the catcher's feathers and to the sleeper, while the bad ones would get caught and trapped within the web, only to be burned when the sun's light would hit the catcher." Alder gestures to his assortment of feathers, "Hence the feathers. It's also why dreamcatchers are placed above beds and in cradles, so the good dreams could slip through and reach you. Having it anywhere else basically makes it fucking useless, not like that detail matters to people though."

Ghetsis hums, "What about the bead?" "That also depends on the person, but I personally believe it symbolises the spider." Ghetsis pauses for a moment, confused. "Spider?" Alder softly laughs, pausing his work to pet the Galvantula next to him, who chitters happily at the attention and affection. "Spiders are scary to a lot of people, but to us they are a symbol of protection and comfort. Asibikaashi is also commonly referred to as the 'Spider Lady' or 'Spider Grandmother'. Our dream catchers are usually made with woven string or sinew, but with this lovely guy around I can make one with actual spider string. Galvantula webbing is incredibly strong, so I'm not worried about it breaking." "Oh! That makes sense, why rose quartz?" "Rose quartz was valued by my people for its healing properties, also I just like rose quartz." Ghetsis nods, "Fair enough."

A comforting silence washes over them, Ghetsis watching Alder thread the string, slip on the bead, then continue to thread the string into a gorgeous pattern. It was mesmerizing to watch his hands move so effortlessly, years of doing this evident is his ease in threading the pattern. "So, are you making one for any particular purpose?" "It's for you." Ghetsis pauses, again confused, looking at Alder with an odd look. "You're making a dreamcatcher for me?" "Mhm." "… Why?"

"Well, you have nightmares. I want to help any way I can with that, even if it's theoretically small." Guilt immediately floods Ghetsis, he feels bad, he shouldn't be doing this for him. "Oh, you don't have to-" "I'll just stop you right there." Alder cuts him off, looking at the other man with a stern gaze. "I know you're going to go on about how I 'shouldn't do this' and that 'it's fine' as if I'm not doing this out of my free will. Nobody's forcing me to do this, you're not forcing me to do this, I want to help you, Ghetsis. Let me try and help you." It goes quiet again, the pair just staring at each other in silence. Ghetsis breaks the silence first, looking down and letting out a soft "okay…"

Alder goes back to his project, beginning to tie the feathers to the hanging string. It takes a few seconds, but Ghetsis eventually rests his head on the other man's shoulder, relaxing himself. "… Thank you."

-

He loves that dreamcatcher, every time he enters his room and sees it hanging above his bed he gets a soft fuzzy feeling, it never gets old. Ghetsis pulls the blanket around Alder gently and pushes back his hair, kissing the man's forehead, who groans and stirs at the contact. Ghetsis giggles quietly, getting out of bed and into his bathroom connected to his bedroom. Grabbing the glass on the sink, he opens up his mirror and fetches his migraine medication and antidepressants, taking them with a gulp of water from the glass. Then he undoes his bonnet to reveal his braid, which he also undoes. He had tried to get Alder to wear a bonnet to bed, but he just never seemed to like it unfortunately. His hair doesn't take long to do, he finds it's much easier to take care of now after he chopped most of it off.

Entering back into his room, he puts on a normal and simple dress shirt and black pants as quietly as he can so as to not wake up the oddly shaped Larvesta. Slowly, he exits out of his room and makes it towards the kitchen, cracking his knuckles and flexing his injured hand.

He begins on making the batter for pancakes, cutting up some strawberries and oran berries to put into the mixture. With a dash of butter on the pan now being melted, he pours the first pancake, being very careful to make the size absolutely perfect. He gets about a plate done before the first child walks into the kitchen, N stretches as she yawns. "Morning, Dad." She goes up to hug him, Ghetsis kissing the top of her head. "Good morning, my dear. Did we sleep well?" He shrugs, grabbing the plate and fetching the syrup from the pantry. "As good as I'm ever going to get it, I suppose." "Well, something is better than nothing, sweetheart." As Ghetsis finishes making the last few pancakes, placing five plates of them on the table, Concordia and Ambrose walk in.

"Good morning, dad!" They both say, squeezing their father, who promptly squeezes them back the best he can without irritating his arm, kissing the tops of their heads. "Good morning, my dears. How are we?" "I'm good!" Concordia beams, smiling, Ambrose nods. "Yes, I'm good as well." "That's lovely, my dears. Pancakes are on the table waiting for you, say hi to your brother." The pair go down to sit at the table, Ambrose waving at N. "Mornin, Nat." Concordia says, seating herself at the table, N hums, mouth full of pancake. "Mornin, Connie."

Ghetsis rests himself against the counter, crossing his arms, waiting. He knows it going to happen, he's not letting himself get toppled over this time, any minute now… Suddenly, the three kids left missing from the table teleport in, tackling their father in a tight hug. "Hi, Dad." Hebe says softly, speaking for her brothers on their behalf. "Hello, my darlings, how are we? Did we sleep well?" The three nod, "That's good, go sit down with your siblings please, pancakes are on the table."

Ghetsis gets started on his own breakfast, which takes much longer than his children's. As the triplets sit down and begin to dig into their breakfast made with love, Ambrose notices something. "I like your nails, Hebe, did you just do them?" The mentioned girl looks away bashfully, "Thank you, Rose. Yes, I did them last night, I wanted to try something different…" Concordia interjects, "Yeah, I agree! They suit you, Hebe." She laughs, nudging N teasingly. "Say, maybe you should paint yours something colourful like that." Natural snorts, "Ha! In your dreams! I think I'll stay with black, thank you." Connie deflates, pouting, "Boo. You're no fun." The pair stick their tongues at each other like children.

"Your eyeliner looks nice today, Nat." Natural lights up, "Thank you, Hebe! I swear, some days it just never wants to look right for me, happy to know today isn't one of those days." Meanwhile, Hephaestus taps his nail onto the table, directed at Ambrose. He looks up and Hephaestus signs something to him, Ambrose's eyes lighting up in recognition. "Oh, yeah. Here you go." He says, passing the syrup to Hephaestus, who signs a 'thank you' in response.

By the time Ghetsis was done with making his, the kids had already finished. All six of them come together to crush their father's ribs and lungs in a joint hug before leaving to tend to whatever they decided to do that day. Ghetsis places down his breakfast on the table, covering it with a tub so it stays warm while he cooks the last breakfast of the morning. Fetching his face mask, he pulls out a few things of raw meat out of his second fridge, yeah, Ghetsis is a man who owns two kitchen fridges, and starts placing them in the pan to cook.

He gets all the bacon and a few sausages done because he feels arms wrap around his sides and a face being pushed into the crook of his neck. He smiles, threading his hand through Alder's hair without looking up from the pan. "Good morning, my love." Alder groans, pushing himself right up against his back, looking over his shoulder. "Hi, baby… What cha makin'?" His voice is deep and husky from just waking up from sleeping, horrifically sexy but he must push through it and stay strong. "Sausages, bacon, and eggs with a side of toast and baked beans."

Alder moans, kissing the other man's neck with affection, he's always so soft and clingy in the mornings. "Fuck, you treat me so well… I love you so much, you're so perfect…" Ghetsis smiles, amused, "Mhm." Eventually however, Alder begins to get a bit more risky with his neck kisses, causing the other man to pause. Ghetsis whips around and smacks Alder on the hand. "Ow! Hey!-" Ghetsis points a finger at his face, "No! Bad! Absolutely not! I can't let you keep giving me hickies every morning! My followers are becoming suspicious over why I'm wearing turtle necks all the time!"

Alder frowns, "Nevermind actually, I changed my mind. You're actually terrible to me and you hate me." Ghetsis scoffs, turning back to the pan. "Oh, tell your woes to somebody else, maybe somebody who'll actually care." A moment of silence goes by, Ghetsis sighs, "You can continue to hug me and kiss me, just try not to give me a hickey, please." Immediately he feels the other man latch back onto him with a sly smile. "Aw, you love me." Drawing out the last word, Ghetsis scoffs and rolls his eyes. "Indeed, but I also think you're a huge pain." Alder nuzzles into him, his stubble tickling Ghetsis' neck. "Thank you for making me breakfast, I love you." Ghetsis lets out a sigh of defeat, having lost this battle. "I love you too."

-💌

WOOO YEAAHH!! this was wonderful thank you!! admittedly i don't know as much as id like about native american cultures (been working on changing that, albeit slowly), and im not native myself, so i obviously cant comment on how accurate it is or isnt. but it does look like you put a good amount of effort into research which is neat :) tbh i got a little nervous seeing dreamcatchers being brought up just cause i think everyone knows atp how severely those have been appropriated for cheap souvenirs 💀 im glad it didn't go that way

everything else was adorable. im biting n. and ghetsis for that matter . the triplets are super cute and i wanna see more of them asap (is it just me or has the triad had a resurgence lately. i never did anything with those guys actually but i am LIVING for it)

[fallenangelofsalt]

Purple Gold AU introduction

Polished the first post(that was actually an ask on @whirld-of-color 's blog) a bit. There's also some other posts linked at the bottom but you should read this one first because it has some context (and horror details) the other posts don't have.

Mostly just fixed up some wording but also changed some of the horror bits so it fits better with my HCs for the stickfigures. Plus some added horror stuff.

This AU is based on the idea of Gold becoming part of Minecraft's code and eventually becoming one with the game and the horror that comes from the consequences of that, of Gold losing his understanding of mortal minds and what makes them hurt, of Gold's code being so scattered, so small.

Personality is so easy, just code, spreads so well in empty space, but memories are hard, tough like glass, try spreading it and it breaks into tiny tiny shards, so hard to see in a cluttered room, filled to the ceiling with heavy information and hard data, crushing the few surviving ones into fine dust, almost invisible in the clutter, and no one even knows to look for it.

Gold forgot, you see. He forgot his dad. He forgot his life. He forgot pain. He forgot fear.

And now there is someone new. Different. Special.

Someone who notices the changes, the oddities. Someone notices him.

The overworld is always quiet. Silent, lonely. There is no one here with you when you spawn in for the first time, and it's been weeks but the feeling of being watched, followed, hunted never left. You think it just got stronger.

Apples feel oddly fleshy in your teeth. Bread is a bit salty, dripping juice down your chin that tastes like citrus. As you yank mushrooms from the ground for soup you nearly bite through your lip to keep from screaming when you feel them thrash against your grip. You eat them anyway. Food is food, and it's better than the pumpkins.

The caves feel moldy, warm and humid with wind that when you follow always leads into dead ends. You swear the redstone pulses beneath your fingers, expanding within your hand in a way that dust really shouldn't.

The nether sometimes feels off, ground a bit soft, walls a bit wet, the gold clings to your fingers when you mine it, sitcky in your hand but not on your pickaxe. If you look too long at the lava, you swear it rises and falls, slowly, the air hot and stale with the smell of iron. The quartz sometimes breaking open to drip cold black on your fingers. You don't spend a lot of time there.

And you've been careful, so so careful, but eventually you fall.

Creeper explosion, just close enough to make you stumble, trip, fall

Right off the edge of a ravine

You don't really wake up then, in that place between life and death so much as get slapped awake, but a mere slap is not enough to describe the agony, the shock, your being getting pulled apart, vivisected and studied by childishly careless claws, but claws imply something physical, and physical doesn't fit the creature- thing- entity that keeps you stuck there, in that space between, for what feels like hours, days, centuries, you feel it stitch you back together, glass dust caught inside your bones but your bloody stuffing doesn't peek out of the stitching and that is the only relief you get before it lets you go and you fall

You wake up. There is gold in your hair, a single strand beneath the purple, and the watching, following, hunting gaze feels so much closer now.

Nearby, far away, right behind them a child a monster a god the world itself (...) is happy.

...

Elsewhere, a King continues on the original path.

There will be a happy ending I swear but first they gotta suffer <3. The AU is named Purple Gold because that is an actual type of gold alloy and the thing about glass dust is very very important! :)

Gold's POV

Purple's arrival and brief respawn aftermath

Brief elaboration on the respawn scene

@styck-figure I think this version is a bit better :)

[siberat]

“Let’s get this party started, right? My first food choice will be a classic appetizer- this blooming onion. *Picks up dish and holds toward the camera* Just look how huge this battered beast is! I just love how pretty this looks; the giant onion cut to look like a flower is so cute…almost too cute to eat.

I’m just kidding; of course, I’m gonna dig into this deep-fried dish. And I heard the sauce is simply to die for! *Tears off a few petals, dunks into sauce, and eats* But enough about my food, let’s move on to the first question, shall we?

*Squints at a datapad* First up is from an anonymous asker, who is eyeing up my wonderfully huge spread here. They ask which of these foods you are most excited to try.

*Face lights up, then scrunches, deep in thought* And this is going to be hard to answer: all these foods just look so scrumptious! One could never go wrong with Altihex rolls or ice cream! And, of course, that crystal cherry pie is universally famous! *Stifles a laugh* 

But if I had to choose just one…. Hmmm… *Bites lower lip* I suppose I am most excited to try these mini-cinnabar pancakes. *Points to the smaller plate of fluffy, purple cylinders loaded with syrup* They are a new receipt I recently found, and figured I would share my first time experiencing them with you! However, I am not going to eat these quite yet. *Wags a finger, then polishes off the blooming onion*

Hmmmm… this onion was very sweet, and the batter was so crisp and flavorful! I sure demolished this flower, huh? *Shows emply plate* And the remoulade dipping sauce had just the right amount of kick to it! Spicey, but not burn your mouth off!

What should I sample next? *Optics scan the table* Oh! This fried robot-chicken looks like a swell choice, doesn’t it? *Pauses, looking at camera* Oh, I sure hope you all are munching on your favorite foods, too. I’d hate to be the only one stuffing my face silly!

But just look at these legs, wing and breast! *The dish is grabbed and set upon his lap* Once again, it is a fried dish. Yes, it most definitely is not the healthiest, seeing as it is loaded with grease. Shyly smiles* But that is what makes it so good! Please, pardon me while I sink my fangs into this drumstick. *Picks up a leg and bites into it*

Oh, my stars! *Optics widen in enjoyment* This is just divine! Did you all hear that crunch? *Looks at camera* The skin is slightly salty, but the meat is so juicy and savory! Oh, I wish I could share this with you all!

*Lifts an arm and points a finger* But I can share the next shout with you: I love your décor Drift!

Oh, thank you for taking notice, Fox! *Smiles sweetly, optics forming half-moons* I simply love springtime colors, don’t you? They create such an uplifting atmosphere and always make me happy! Perfect for meditating, wouldn’t you say? *Nods helm*

Oh, and allow me to show off the aroma therapy candles! *Beckons to his left* I have the lavender ones burning now. They assist in calming one's processor and just relaxing your frame. After a long day working next to Rodi/mus, the smell takes away your stress and anxiety. 

*Face drops in shock* Please. Don’t tell him I told you that. I’m only playing around! *Sucks at grease and breadcrumbs on his fingers* Oh, do pardon me- this robo-chicken is finger-licking good!

Do you guys like my quartz crystal?? *Motions to his right* It’s the seventh chakra crystal, amplifying your energy, inner thoughts, and spirituality. Plus, its colors are simply gorgeous, wouldn’t you agree?

And who would not want to look at such handsome pictures of Rat/chet? *Face lightens in joy* The one with both of us was such a sweet day: the anniversary of our courtship! And the other one…*Raises brow* well, let’s just say I cannot resist my love even when he is being such a cranky-bot!

Rat/chet is not fond of that photo, I might add. *Gives the camera a serious look* But I think he looks so cute!

Would you look at this? *Shows camera plate full of picked clean chicken frame* I sure polished off this dish! Sucked the meat right off that framework, huh? *Licks lips* That dish was tasty. Let's give this bowl of spaghetti a try. *Grabs bowl and shows to camera*

The noodles are high-quality lithium, and I purchased them freshly made right in front of me. It was entertaining to watch them roll out the dough and cut it into these tiny strips. *Points to round pink sphere on top of the noodles* And that giant meatball just seals the deal!

Let's move on to another question as I slurp this dish up. *Feeds himself a large amount of noodles and works to suck them into mouth*

Another anonny is asking about food. *Winks* I see you enjoy the finer things in life as much as I do! ‘How about a food question to help your appetite.’

Oh, my dear anon! *Playfully waves at camera* While I appreciate your concern, I don’t think I’ll need much encouragement to graze on this feast before me! My tummy was grumbling all day! ‘Do you snack often, and what is your go-to?’

Well, the teachings of Prim/us come with warnings of gluttony and greed. *Gives a serious look* Too much of a good thing can be seen as a sin. While I do see the point, I see no harm if your feasting isn’t taking from others.

However, I do not mean to get sidetracked! *Stabs meatball with fork and takes a big bite* Although, I just want to mention how good this meatball is! Rolled-up silicone with hints of feldspar…. Chef’s kiss!

I go through bouts of snacking. *Tilts helm* Casual snacking is usually heathy energon foods, such as ener-nuts, fresh crystal fruits and ener-bars are suitable for working long shifts on the bridge. Cottage cheese, made from pasteurized ener-milk, is another filling snack, full of nutrients that help you feel satiated for hours. Plus, it tastes like ricotta cheese but has more of those super fun curds! *Winks*

As for the junk foods… *Smirks* Well, I can’t lay off the sweets. I am sure you could figure that out based on the dishes I selected. I love those prepackaged mini pastries, especially the ones with cream filling! *Fingers wiggle in excitement* Talk about a sugary rush! Donuts, pies, and even candied geodes make for a much more fun break time! *Face returns to serious look* But I do tend to limit those. Sadly, they serve as a quick pick-me-up, but you tend to crash hard afterward.

And this pasta has been demolished. *Shows empty bowl* See? Nothing left!

Oh, I know what I want to taste next. Check this dish out! *Holds up selected dish *Olivine on toast with a sunny side ener-egg on top! I just love dippy eggs! *Smiles widely* It’s fun to pop them and watch all the tasty yolk spill out everywhere. And the Olivine has such a creamy and earthy taste that I simply adore! Spreading it on toasted barium bread warms it nicely and makes for a good, hearty breakfast.

Oh my. *Eyes widen, jaw drops*

This next question is fascinating. *laughs* Alcorian asks a rather funny one: ‘What’s some silly disagreement that you and Rat/chet can never come to an agreement or compromise about?’

Well, a serious one is the whole concept of spirituality, but we came to a mutual understanding about that. A silly disagreement… well… the bed sheets. *Meekly smiles*

Yes. You heard me correctly. *Holds servo out* Hear me out.

I just love to climb into a berth with tucked-in bed sheets: it feels like a giant warm hug! *Smiles, then face gets serious* Rat/Chet on the other hand, prefers the blankets to be loose. *Scrunches up face as toast is dipped into egg yolk* Claims being tucked in makes him feel smothered. What a poor baby! So, after a bit, he kicks his side loose. *Shrugs his shoulders* I try to scold him, but he assures me he will keep me tucked in. *Smiles and blushes* How can one be mad after hearing that!

Oh, I just thought of another one. *Optics widen* You get a two-for-one! And I could use your opinions on this. *sighs* When putting cups in the cabinets, do you place them face down or face up? They should be face down; that way, no dust or grimy stuff collects in them. *Tilts helm* Rat/Chet just puts them in any which way! When I discuss this with him… he gives the typical Rat/Chet response. *Gives impression of Rat/chet’s behavior* You know, the hand wave while muttering, ‘Yeah, yeah yeah.’

Oh, this olivine toast was ever so tasty! *Licks lips*That runny egg dripped all over the place but really hit the spot! Nice and toasty.

Alright. *Face goes stern* Now comes a tricky question: What’s next?”

… ……

Still taking on more askes! So, if you have a question for Dr/ift, send it in! You can send multiples. Also, if you wanted to ask as another TF character- just state so! Let’s keep this mukbang going and see if our dear swordsmech can handle all that food infront of him!

( if your ask didn’t get answered, I am saving some for other rounds)

previous: https://www.tumblr.com/siberat/733711321796837376/mukbang-are-we-recording-yeah-okay-hello-fans?source=share

[prismaticpollen]

the things we do for friendship (1/4)

original characters, f/f, allergy

Wren helps her new roommate Vul settle in, getting a noseful of dust in the process.

(part 2 ) (part 3) (part 4)

><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><

Ding!

Wren stepped out of the elevator with a deep sigh, eyes fixed on the sleek new clock in the hall. Twelve minutes past two. She was late.

She’d been so excited by her latest project that she’d run all the way from her building to the convenience store down the street, just over a mile in ten minutes. That was a new record for her, but it didn’t matter because the store had been unusually crowded and the lines unusually long. By the time she’d left the store, weighed down by her purchases, she’d burned through any extra time her enthusiasm might have saved her, and the return trip had taken another eighteen minutes. Overall, her errand had lasted forty minutes from start to finish, twelve minutes longer than she’d promised.

Oh well, nothing she could do now. Shifting all her bags into one hand, Wren reached into her right front pocket with the other. A moment later, bright green key ring successfully retrieved, she shifted her burden again, holding her groceries against her hip while she unlocked the front door of her apartment.

Inside, the place was dim and quiet. Too quiet, all things considered. Setting her bags down on the nearest table, Wren crept farther into the apartment, eyes peeled for anything unusual.

“Vul?” she called.

“I’m here! Come!” Judging by the direction of the sound, the response came from the spare bedroom. That made sense; Vul had been in the middle of unpacking when she’d left, and must have still been busy organizing. She probably hadn’t noticed what time it was, but Wren had set the two o’clock deadline as much for her own sake as her new roommate’s. They’d both been through a lot of changes very quickly, so she needed whatever semblance of consistency she could find, even when all she was doing was buying snacks.

“Wren? Come?”

Right. Time to see how much her friend had accomplished while she’d been out. “I’m coming, be right there!”

“Okay!” Vul acknowledged. Her voice was bright and clear like polished quartz, like it always was.

A few seconds of silence, broken only by her own footsteps on the carpet, then Wren reached the guest room threshold and had to bite down hard on her tongue to keep from laughing. She almost managed it, but she still had to pause to collect herself. Once she could speak without dissolving into giggles, she blurted out the first thing that came to mind: “Vul, what the fuck?”

“What?” Vul flicked her tail towards the floor, ultramarine eyes wide and unblinking as she turned toward the doorway. She was standing in the middle of the room, surrounded by overturned furniture and looking utterly bewildered. It seemed she had, in fact, finished organizing her things and moved onto tearing the rest of the room apart. Looking for something? No, everything she’d brought with her was piled neatly in one corner, so that couldn’t explain the mess.

“Sorry, let me try that again.” Wren made a mental note to avoid profanity around Vul, at least until the alien’s translation device could collect enough data to process her meaning fully. “What happened here?”

Another tail twitch, this time towards the window. “Bad view. I was nervous.”

Oh, duh. They were on the fifth floor, which was four stories higher than any building Vul was used to, based on what she’d said when Wren had first shown her around the apartment. As strong as she was, she could have easily knocked things over in a panic. “You got scared, you stopped thinking, right?”

“Yes. Sorry.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Wren said softly. “We’ll clean this up, then I can get curtains or something tomorrow, okay?”

“Curtains?” Vul sounded perplexed.

“To cover the window. That way you can’t look down and you don’t have to think about being up high.”

“Okay. Curtains tomorrow. I’ll clean up.”

“Let me put groceries away real quick,” Wren suggested. “Get started if you want, or you can wait for me to come help, there’s no rush.”

“I’ll clean up.” Vul lifted her chin, opening her mouth wide. Not really smiling, but close enough.

Wren smiled back, then spun on her heel, rushing back the way she’d come and collecting her recent purchases from the table she’d left them on. Moving into the kitchen, she made short work of putting everything where it belonged. As soon as she finished, she left the empty shopping bags on the counter by the fridge to deal with later.

By the time she got back to the spare room, Vul had clearly been equally efficient: nearly half the room was back to normal already. Letting out an appreciative whistle, she crossed the room to help balance the shelf her friend was lifting back into its proper position.

With both of them working together, the rest of the cleanup went even faster. Wren had to stop to catch her breath a few times, unused to the weight of some of the larger items, but Vul didn’t seem to mind the interruptions, and they finished in what felt like record time.

Letting go of the last piece of furniture, Wren shook her hands out in front of her, releasing tension from the way she’d been gripping the edges of each object while Vul watched curiously. “I don’t know about you, but I need to sit down after that,” she panted. She was fine, really, she just needed to relax after all the heavy lifting. Her throat was dry, that was all.

Leaving the guest room, she ducked into the kitchen, quickly downing a small glass of water before continuing into the living room and flopping onto the couch. The water helped, but her throat still felt off. She swallowed, shifting her jaw from side to side and waiting for the itch to subside.

Moments later, Vul appeared in the doorway to the kitchen, moving towards the couch with her tail swishing playfully behind her. “How was shopping?”

“It was fi- ihh!” Wren started to reply, then stopped mid-sentence. Not on purpose, it was an easy question to answer, but because her body had chosen that moment to interfere. “Hang oohhn!” she gasped. Fighting the sudden tickle blooming in her nose.

“Wren?” Vul was staring at her now, wide-eyed with confusion.

She held up her hand: wait. Any second now.

“Hhh! Hehh… ihhh-! Hihh’tschiew! HAhh-!”

That was weird, there were usually two. “As I was saying, shopping was fine. I had a good day. How about you?”

“What was that?”

“What was what?” Wren was sure she hadn’t brought up anything new just then. Wondering what concept Vul was struggling with, she wrinkled her nose, something she often did while thinking, then immediately regretted it.

“HAhh… hehh! Hihh! Hehh-ihh… HahHTchiieew! Hhtschuu! Hh’tchoo!”

Oh no. How had she been so stupid?

“Hhuh’TSCH! Hihtsch! Hahh’tch! Hht’CHU! Hahhtchoo! HheHTCHUU! Hihh’TCHEEWW! HHATSCHIEEEWW!”

When Wren finally finished, panting for breath, she opened her eyes to find Vul right in front of her. The alien was frozen in shock, sitting on the living room floor with her gray skin glistening with spray.

She must have closed the remaining distance between them while Wren was too busy sneezing her head off to notice. Meeting Wren’s gaze, she brought one hand up to wipe her face, unclipping the thin wedge of metal that housed her translator from her belt with the other.

“Never mind,” Vul said quietly. She seemed unbothered, as if what had just happened was a total non-event.

“Oh my— I’m sorry! That was so gross,” Wren muttered. She was almost certain her face was bright red, as much from embarrassment as effort, but the other girl just shook her head, baring her teeth in an awkward almost-smile.

“Don’t worry about it.”

[catsandgoodbooks]

No. 24: “I’ve got a head full of chemicals; mouth full of ridicule.”

Goodbye Note | Neglect | “I thought they were with you.”

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

Sapnap woke alone. That was how he knew something was off. He hadn’t been when he’d fallen asleep, so where had Karl gone? He scrambled out of the covers and off the cold bed, quickly grabbing a cloak and the sword hidden under the bed, before he started down the stairs. Dread pooled in his gut. (Where had he gone, was he okay, what if something happened to him–)

As Sapnap approached the dinner table, he noticed that a note was left on the dark, polished wood. With shaking hands, he unfolded the message and began to read.

Dear Sapnap,

I’m sorry for leaving on so short notice, Sap, but I have to. I’m the only one who can fix this. Don’t come looking for me. Just trust that I know what I'm doing ♥️

Your love,

Karl Jacobs

Fuck. That didn’t help calm his fears at all. It sounded like Karl was…leaving. Forever. Like it was a true goodbye, one where they’d never see each other again. Sapnap really didn’t want that to be the case. (Everyone else had already left him; he wasn’t going to let Karl do it too)

Sapnap crumpled the note up in his fist. He thought it was the pinnacle of restraint not to set it on fire right here and now. (It would be satisfying if he did, but, if this really was the last thing he’d ever hear from his fiance–)

But that was enough of that. He had to be productive. He had to try. If he was Karl, where would he go? Where would he be? How could he be found?

The library. These days, Karl spent most of his time in the library, squished in between old musty books and tall, tall shelves and shiny wooden desks. He’d probably be there, and even if he wasn’t, Sapnap could probably find some clue to where he’d gone.

Sapnap pushed the door to the library open, trying to keep a handle on his anger in order to stop himself from turning into a living wildfire. If he did that here, everything would go up in flames. Ignoring the venomous, sorrowful thoughts circling him and pulling his throat tight, he made his way to Karl’s favorite spot.

It was a mess, like usual. Books were sprawled across the desk, some open to random pages, some slammed closed. For once, Sapnap thought to read the books’ titles: The Town That Never Was. The Village That Went Mad. The Beach Episode. The Lost City of Mizu. The Masquerade. The Wild West. The Haunted Mansion. The Pit. The Maze.

Sapnap rubbed the bridge of his nose. None of this was helping him find Karl, besides maybe informing him about his fiance’s reading habits. That would be useful around Christmas time, but not right now.

Sapnap reached up to grab a random book off the shelf in front of him, and shook it harder when it didn’t come out, stuck for one reason or another. What he didn’t expect was for the bookshelf to move aside, revealing a passage forwards for him. He stood there, jaw hanging, for a moment before scrambling into action, squeezing himself into the hallway.

The walls were made of dark wood, and the floor was too, but Sapnap would have to be blind to ignore the swirling multicolor portal at the end of the passage. Ah. That wasn’t good, but that pretty much answered the question of where Karl went. And anywhere Karl went, Sapnap went.

Going through the portal felt like falling into the Nether. It felt like dreaming. It felt like panic. Colors flashed behind his eyes and nausea filled him, but Sapnap was used to that.

When he finally stood on solid ground, Sapnap scrambled to his feet and took a minute to look around. He was surrounded by white walls, flawless and ethereal; probably quartz. The roof was arched, graceful, and Sapnap suddenly decided that he was in a castle. The question was just whose. The rest of the room was empty.

Sapnap walked forward, walked out of the room, and kept on walking. The rooms blurred together, all smooth white, sometimes ballrooms, sometimes libraries, sometimes empty rooms save for white roses peeking out of elegant pale roses. He didn’t care. He just wanted to find Karl, and then leave.

In the end, Sapnap reached a courtyard (or at least that was what he was guessing it was from the glimpses of green he could see), the castle ending with a gentle caress of arches framing the sudden break from white walls and floors and roofs.

Sapnap ducked through the arch into the courtyard and froze. The field was green, lush, alive in way the SMP was not, and filled with pale, delicate flowers, white roses and oxeye daisies and dandelions and lilies of the valley. And sitting in the center of it all, kneeling in the middle of the field and wrapping the stem of one of the lilies around his fingers, clad all in white and grey but with achingly familiar fluffy brown hair, was–

“Karl?” Sapnap asked, his heart skipping a beat. If he was here, if this was it– Karl turned towards Sapnap, smiling softly. His eyes were (empty, void of any recollection) a pale, pale gray. “Who’s Karl?”