#scrap battery collection

[aronaut]

Warmth

Pairing: Sebastian Solace x gn!reader Summary: You're a former researcher that was working before the blacksite lockdown. Forgotten and abandoned, you have no other choice but to work with a certain shopkeeper. Needless to say, you have your differences. Warnings: Explicit mentions of blo/od and inj/ury in the beginning. Not beta read Word count: 4,191 (This is a drabble I plan to include in a long list of loosely connected ideas. Consider it the middle of an enemies to qp partners plot :] )

...The low, ominous groan and creak of metal is enough to put anyone on edge, you think, as you traverse the seemingly endless halls.

Rifling through the cabinets and drawers, scrounging up scraps left behind by hasty thieves, the unsettling ocean ambience is all you have for company. You wonder, just when did your life derail so horrifically, when the sight of a crumpled body on the ground fills you with elation. The heavy, steel doors slide open with little fanfare. Beyond the mangled corpse, your eyes immediately set on a black light laying just a few feet away. Stepping over the expendable, you collect the item. There is little battery left in the light you note, before stashing it in the worn messenger bag slung over your shoulder.

With a heavy sigh, you eyes scan below. Scarlet scatters across the floor in a chaotic spray, drawing your eyes towards the deep crimson pool steadily crawling towards the toe of your shoe. In the center of it all, lays the head of a late expendable, expression locked in a display of permanent shock. From below their eye, a coat of flaky, dry red webs down from their chin to all the way down their shoulder.

The collar of the expendable’s wet suit is torn completely; black shreds of neoprene fray out from below the sternum. It's hard to tell the rubber from the darkened crimson spilling out from the brutal tear in the prisoners neck.

Z-90– the Wall Dweller, you determine. Recent too, if the wet shine on expendable's neck is anything to go off of. The considerably uneaten state of the body leads you to believe it might still be in the area, biding it's time until it can claim the expendable's companions as well.

Or, well, possibly even you…

With that thought in your mind, you crouch down, your hands roaming over surface of the expendable’s clothes for any other possible hidden goods. Sparing glances every so often behind you, straining your ears all the while, you’re cautious during your search.

Any research the expendable might have had is completely useless now, waterlogged with sticky blood and pasted to the body. Attempting to reach into the pockets only rewards you with a sharp jab in your palm, the tips of your fingers cold and wet with spilled vial fluids.

Withdrawing from the body, you finally stand back up to full height. The sudden rush to your head is enough to make you sway, your stomach starting to pinch from the overwhelming, metallic stench permeating the room. With a shaky exhale, you urge yourself forward.

The persistent stinging in your eyes doesn’t do any favors for you as you try and navigate the dimly lit halls of the facility, an incredibly sore ache pulsating in your feet with every step. You are… so tired.

A distant roar of an entity sounds suddenly, reverberating across multiple rooms and rocking the facility. The floor rumbles faintly below your feet, and you can almost barely make out the disorderly sound of blinking lights. Bracing yourself against a wall, you wait out the tremors.

Though exhaustion tugs at you, you acknowledge that you cannot rest here. The dark corners of the room whisper dangerous promises, and as you traverse the rooms you can’t shake off the ever persistent feeling of being watched.

Any human in this place is simply prey, and as you tuck your hands into the pockets of your tattered, beaten white coat, your mind rings out with a grim thought; if every human here is prey, you are high game.

Approaching the next door, the screen doesn’t label it with a number but instead a red line. Taking the keycard from your lanyard, you unlock the door, and step inside. Instead of being met with lockers and scattered drawers, you find yourself in a familiar office. The small room is crowded with desks, computers that have long since powered off, and fake potted plants that fill you with a bittersweet sense of longing. Tucked under the desks, the rusted office chair beckon you to rest, but you push the thought out.

There is no doubt in your mind that he is getting aggravated over the fact that you’ve taken this long already.

Behind the desks there is another door, bracketed by two item lockers long since rummaged through. It’s marked by another red line, but you already know where it leads.

The door opens with an exhale, the frigid air greeting you as you walk on through. Unlike the rooms before, this room is brightly lit, the florescent lights buzzing loudly. Your eyes burn momentarily from the sudden change, taking a moment to adjust. The hall is short this time, and in your view you see another door marked ‘50.’

Your bag is disappointingly light on your shoulders, only holding a gummy flashlight, a few batteries, and the black light you just found. You’re not looking forward to the condescending comments that awaits you behind that door.

Resigning to your fate with a heavy sigh, you begin to trudge forward, but stop short suddenly when you hear what sounds like a loud flash, followed by a furious shout and the rush of footsteps. You only have a split second to react, hastily throwing yourself into a locker, the clang of the metal door muted by the hissing of an opening door.

Laughter rings out in the room, accompanied by a multitude of heavy footfalls. The light peaking through the vent of the locker momentarily obscures as you count three expendables pass by, completely unaware of your presence. They are loud and boisterous, a harsh rhythmic squeak of their boots resounding as they run through the hall, the dull thuds of drawers being pulled out to their full extent in a fruitless endeavor to find more loot. They don’t stay long, and soon enough you hear the hydraulics of the door once more and the footsteps dissipate.

You wait a minute before exiting the locker, hurriedly making your way to the fiftieth door. There is a low, agitated hiss drawing out low from the ground, echoing through the tunnel next to your calf. Crouching down, you crawl on into the vent, your elbows clanging against the thin metal.

Emerging on the other side, you find yourself once more in the confinement of Sebastian’s shop. It’s possibly the smallest room in the facility, the walls looming over you in a claustrophobic fashion. Or, perhaps, it’s just overcrowded with stacked crates strewn about, the floor littered with various gadgets inoperable by you, and piles of paper files scattered across the floor. Your eyesight leads to probably the most useless thing in the room, roaming over the giant tail fin flicking against the wall and up the elongated tail it was attached to.

Sebastian is rubbing furiously at his eyes, lure blinking not dissimilarly to the way the room lights do when in the presence of Z-283. He’s grumbling low beneath his breath, mumbling incoherently between rushed clicks and growls.

When he’s done, he acknowledges your entrance with very little care,

“About time. Stock’s so low, I’ve had to sell half-charged flashlights to the last gaggle of idiots,” his arms drop, and he glares to you. “What the hell took you so long?”

The messenger bag drops from your shoulder with little care, the metal of the flashlights clinging with the floor through the thin material. You fix him with a similar expression to his, squinting up at him.

“Trying not to get caught, asshole. If you want shit sooner get it yourself next time.”

He chuckles sardonically at you.

“Please, I’ve got better things to do,” he responds. “You keep up your half of the deal, and I keep up mine.”

You roll your eyes pointedly, breaking away from the staring match when the brightness of his lure starts to cause dark spots to swim in your vision. Crouching down, you begin to rifle through the bag. He looks unimpressed at the pitiful amount of batteries you set beside yourself, but you do notice the room getting ever so slightly brighter when you pull out the black light.

“Just keep being a good little errand boy, and your efforts won’t go unpunished,” he purrs. You clench your teeth, face warming in anger.

“Oh yes, your part. Totally. I go out, digging around for junk, risking my neck to monsters and delinquent prisoners, while you get to sit in here and play retail worker,” you ramble, frustrated, rolling the gummy flashlight over to his general direction with a not too gentle shove. “Fairest trade in the world.”

Your heartbeat picks up ever so slightly as you feel a shadow cast over you, the bulb of Sebastian’s lure hanging overhead as he leans down towards you, slow. You urge yourself to keep his gaze and stay there as his smile stretches into a sharp grin, light glinting off the razor sharp fangs. His hand stretches towards you, and your shoulders jolt in a half-flinch as they reach towards your neck. You don’t look down from his eyes as his claws pull at your lanyard, the thin fabric brushing against the nape of your neck. Your eyebrows furrow as he pinches the card between his thumb and index, his claw sweeping over it’s laminated surface.

“Would you like to switch roles, ‘doctor?’”

You reach up, and promptly slap his hand away.

Instead of retaliating, Sebastian merely laughs at you.

“I didn’t think so,” he drawls, before slowly ascending back to full height, away from you.

The bag, now empty, sits lightly on your shoulder as you pull it over your head. It’s weight is nearly nonexistent. You approach one of the stacked storage containers and with a tired groan plop down, leaning back and stretching your legs out in front of you.

It’s instantaneous relief, you note, your joints popping in rapid succession of one another as you stretch your arms up, crossed at the wrists. Your shoulders are practically buzzing, no doubt having been pinched at some point during your venture in the facility. Your knees creak and ache from crawling through vents and desks, your legs stiff and feet beyond sore. After your stretch, you slump down in your seat with a sigh. Finally, you get to relax.

“Just what do you think you’re doing?”

Ugh.

“Resting, Sebastian.” You respond dryly. “I’m freaking tired, okay? Leave me be.”

Sebastian simply scoffs. You don’t acknowledge him as your eyes draw shut.

“Go somewhere else for that, I have a business to run.”

“And where do you suggest I go? Where is there that doesn’t have a wall dweller lurking or some other hellish atrocity waiting to get at me?” You argue, opening your eyes to challenge him with a glare.

“That isn’t my problem,” he leans down slightly, arms crossed and third arm tucked in awkwardly. “Leave before someone comes in.”

You mirror his pose, crossing your arms and tilting your chin up at him.

“Get out.”

You shuffle in place, legs crossing. Sebastian scowls, growling low in his throat. His arm shoots out, pointing to the vent and shouting.

“Get OUT!”

Your shoulders jump, but you’re stubborn. Drawing your arms around yourself tightly, you shout back.

“Screw you, man! There isn’t anyone coming!”

Sebastian hisses, the only warning you get before he darts down toward you, your arms pushed into your chest as he holds you in a tight grip, claws pinching your skin underneath the thin fabric of your coat.

He is directly in your face, eyes glowering at you as he spits,

“You absolute, goddamn MORON. If you do not LEAVE-”

He cuts himself off suddenly, and in your peripherals you catch the way the fins on the side of his head seem to twitch bizarrely. Soon you hear the pang of metal resounding off the walls of the vent and echoing into the room. With a quick, uttered curse, Sebastian quickly draws back, but he doesn’t let you go, instead pulling you up and with him.

Your arms sting in his hold, your face twisted in a grimace as suddenly your feet are no longer touching the ground. The weight of your body hangs as he effortlessly lifts you up.

“What the hell???” you wheeze. “Let me go!”

A cold hand slaps over your mouth harshly, clasping your face nearly entirely as Sebastian growls.

“Shut the hell Up!”

You get little warning as Sebastian all but stuffs you behind him, crowded by his tail. You try and leverage yourself with his tail, pushing up with your arms as your chest pressing uncomfortably against him. His tail coils and folds in response, pushing over your chest and weighing heavily till you fall back to the floor. The air punched out of your lungs, and you let out a strangled gasp. Panic seized you as you wriggled beneath him, writhing in place to try and breathe. Noticing your struggle, Sebastian lifts his tail ever so slightly, no longer crushing you. You jumped at the opportunity, attempting to sit up before Sebastian’s third arm came down, hand tangling into your hair and shoving you back down.

“Stay down,” he says, low, with a hint of a threat tracing the edges of his voice.

The weight of his hand on your head disappears, and you watch from behind him as his attitude immediately shifts from disgruntled to a calculated calm.

“Welcome, welcome!” he greets, near automatic and practically off a script. You cannot see who he is talking to from your position, but based off the sound of shuffling and whispers, you assume another group has just entered. “Don’t be afraid, I’m not gonna hurt you. Despite what you have seen, heard and/or been told, my name is Sebastian.”

He goes on with his typical spew, and you surrender to the solid weight laying over you. It’s a bit awkward for Sebastian, you realize, as he attempts to move along with his usual transactions now that the upper part of his tail is occupied keeping you hidden. You feel almost smug about it, counting it off as a win in the mentally constructed chart in your mind that keeps loose tabs on the constantly tipping scale between you and Sebastian. It’s not like you want to be seen by the expendables, as it risks the possibility of them reporting back to Urbanshade that one of their esteemed researchers were still alive down here and working against them with the active saboteur. Though, given how long you and Sebastian have spent down here, you highly doubt that is likely to happen anytime soon. The expendable project was a long going mission that has yet to bare any fruit.

As Sebastian drawls on, you can feel his voice reverberating through his tail. As much as you hate to admit it, the rumbling was soothing. The weight of him was less of a burden than it was before, instead it became rather pleasant in grounding you, not unlike a weighted blanket… and a cooled one, at that.

The transaction seemed to be dragging on longer than usual, or maybe that was just you. The events of the day quickly starting to catch up with you, slowing your perception of time as you stared up hazily at the ceiling, with Sebastian’s elbow and back occasionally coming into view. Pressing against the wall, you could feel the way the facility subtly rocked in the waters. Holding your ear to the ground, you could almost hear the ocean, the cold metal soothing against your flushed face.

You could barely make out the voices of the prisoners, and what you could you pieced together that they must be attempting to negotiate. Puffing under your breathe, you smiled, bidding them luck with that endeavor as your eyes drew shut.

When your eyes opened once more, the room was dark. You could no longer hear the prisoners, or even Sebastian for that matter. Lifting your head, you realized also that the weight over you seemed to have disappeared. Sebastian was no longer laying over you.

You couldn’t make out what was in front of you, but you still attempted to look around. Your thoughts were slow and disorientated, but slowly you discerned that you must have fallen asleep. How you managed in such an inconvenient expression, next to Sebastian of all things, you couldn’t fathom. You suppose you were more exhausted than you originally thought.

He must’ve moved you, you think. You could imagine the sneer he must’ve made at realizing you had fallen asleep. Where did he put you, exactly? You jostled awake fully at the thought that perhaps he threw you out in the cold, or simply dumped you in the nearest, darkest room to be preyed on by the experiments.

At this thought, you rushed to push yourself up with your hands, having awoken on your stomach. The floor was… odd in texture. It was rougher, not the smooth, biting cold metal that you were accustomed to. It was, also, ever so slightly warm. As you pushed against it, you noticed that while it was solid it also had a little give to it. Your mind reeled for answers, trying to piece together just exactly where or what you were laying on, when all of the sudden you realized you were moving. Or, more like, the ground was moving.

Your breath quickened as you slid ever so slightly down, and it registered finally that your legs weren’t supported by anything, instead hanging over an edge. Your thighs held together as your arms scrambled to hold on to whatever it was you were on, leaning forward with your face pressed up against something cool.

You could smell an an odd, distinct combination of what you could only describe as leather and fish. Cold air gently brushed down your forehead as you heard someone sigh.

Adjusting to the darkness, you could finally make out what was in front of you– or below you, rather.

Below you was a chest belonging only to Sebastian.

Clad in a white dress shirt and draped in a rough leather jacket, his chest rose steadily under you, raising you in tandem. Looking to his face, all three of his eyes were closed and you couldn’t make out his lure in the darkness. His expression was… peaceful. Relaxed. Despite this, you could see the dark crevices in his forehead and eyes, groves crafted and paved by long-term stress that he refused to let on existed. He was completely unguarded and vulnerable, and considering your position you concluded that he had willingly put himself there.

But why?

You couldn’t comprehend it. Maybe it was a mistake? You had never seen him asleep before… Given all of the traits he was spliced with, you wondered how long he could really go without sleep? Maybe he slept when you were gone? That wouldn’t make sense. He’s a research-fiend by nature, he’d never let a potential customer pass him by.

However, looking more closely, you took in his features. Unlike the rest of his body, his face was smoother; More akin to a human. Between his eyes and on the bridge of his nose, there was a very faint line– barely noticeable even in the light– a paler blue than the surrounding skin. A scar he had when he first came into the facility as a convict. As a human…

You doubt even Sebastian could reject the very notion of sleep. Beneath it all– the razor sharp teeth, the blue scales, and thin web veils on his ears and clawed fingers, you never stopped believing that he was human. You doubt he did, either.

It still didn’t make sense for you to be here, but that didn’t matter, because there was the definite possibility of him screaming at you when he woke up and saw you there in despite of his protests.

You gently tried to creep down, stretching your leg and trying to feel the ground with your toe. You stretched and stretched, flexing your foot before realizing that even at this angle you couldn’t feel the floor. You were up too damn high. Looking down, you could hardly make out the messy floor.

In the midst of your struggling, you felt a rumble pass through you from Sebastian’s chest. His hands, which you hadn’t at first noticed were resting on your hips, slowly caressed over your back before stopping at your shoulders. You laid there, frozen, peaking cautiously up at Sebastian to see he was, thankfully, still asleep.

Your situation got that much more difficult, you realized, as his arms laid heavy over your back and prevented you from moving any further without disturbing the serpent, likely into waking.

Huffing a sigh, you relented.

You still couldn’t see very well in the darkness, and you would no doubt sprain something trying to dismount Sebastian. He’s so cranky awake, you don’t want to imagine what he’d be like shorted a few hours of beauty sleep.

And as much as you loathed to admit it, the position wasn’t… uncomfortable. You felt warm, but not stuffy despite the room. Sebastian was like a pillow with two cold sides, and you discovered that as you sunk back down into him, that his skin seemed to absorb your heat.

You shut your eyes.

There was no point in struggling to leave, or worrying about Sebastian’s reaction right now. Bottom line is, you could go for a couple more minutes of rest. Chances are Sebastian would tell you to hop right back to work first opportunity he got, so you might as well take advantage of the situation.

Your breathing slowed, and as you relaxed you could just barely make out a very soft rumbling crackle coming from Sebastian’s chest, reminiscent of a cat’s purr. His fingers absently curled over your shoulders, the weight of them strong and comforting. You could get used to this, you thought, and didn’t bother to fight against the absurd belief as your thoughts slowed down, sleep creeping in.

A shrill scream roars outside, and the body beneath you jolts violently, jostling you in the process. You hear lights flicker discordantly, before hushing entirely.

You don’t dare to open your eyes as you feel Sebastian move under you, hearing him exhale loudly. From behind the lids of your eyes, you notice the room get slightly brighter. Sebastian is awake.

You brace yourself to be grabbed, or even thrown, as his claws curl that much tighter over your shoulders. But that doesn’t happen.

His hands go lax, and you feel him sink back down, his third arm coming to rest over your lower back. The upper arms gently soothe down your back before brushing back up. Your brows furrow in confusion when a hand rests on your head, combing through your hair.

Warm breath ghosts over you as he leans down with a sigh, arms pulling you further up his body as his chin sets down over your head.

You dare to peek your eyes open, met with the light blue hue of Sebastian’s neck, gaze tracing over the smooth transition between human skin and scales. You feel Sebastian’s clawed hand leave your scalp, once more joining it’s counterpart in soothing up and down your back, the third hand picking at the frayed edges of your shirt.

You can see the bob of Sebastian’s throat as he swallows, coughing lightly in an attempt to clear his throat. His nose presses ever so slightly further into your hair, and you have to suppress the sudden need to jump when the third hand traces up your back, under your shirt.

Your hands brace against him, ready to launch yourself upward and ask just what the hell he is doing, before acknowledging that his hand doesn’t go any further than that. You decide to wait it out, see what he does. Maybe you can catch him doing something embarrassing, and use it as leverage in your next argument. Another point to your metaphorical score.

The other arms continue to stroke over your back, albeit more slowly, as his third hand continues to trail up your spine, leaving a path of goose bumps. The hair of your back raises at the temperature change. His hand is freaking cold. Colder than the rest of his body. Why is that?

As this continues, you feel him slump ever so slightly, all three of his hands slowing to a stop. His chest evens out once more, and you realize, he is asleep.

The hand under your shirt has become significantly warmer, and that is when you realize; Sebastian is cold blooded.

Well, you didn’t just realize, you knew this from the start. It explained his bizarre actions though, and as you took in your position you pieced together you were no different than a weighted blanket you accused his tail of being not long ago. A heated rock for his comfort. Like a snake or lizard basking in a lamplight, you were his source of heat.

Your mouth twitched into a smile. You were totally going to hold this over his head.

[whxtedreams]

When You're Sick

Summary: Drabbles about how they would look after you when you're sick/unwell.

Word Count: 3.5k

Tags: Fluff, comfort, they're just soft babies, I am sick while writing these, Javier being a soft jerk - he means well, Din doing his best, Frankie just being a soft bf, Joel is nothing but caring, sick!reader

Characters: Joel Miller, Din Djarin, Frankie Morales, Javier Peña

Joel Miller

Joel: How’s my baby girl doing? You: Honestly Joel, I have a killer headache and just want to go home. 

Joel frowns at the small screen in his hand before he looks down at the shirt he is ironing. He had planned on surprising you and taking you out to dinner tonight since Sarah was at a friend's house for the night but he quickly scraps that idea.

Joel: Come over after work  You: I just said I wasn’t feeling well… Joel: No funny business. Promise 

Joel spends the afternoon bringing every pillow and blanket he owns into the living room. He drags chairs from the dining room and drapes blankets over them, making a nice dark blanket fort in his living room. He digs around in the Christmas storage boxes in the garage until he finds battery operated warm fairy lights that Sarah begged him for one year. With a few grunts and mumbled swears, he manages to hang them on the chairs within the blanket fort, hoping you liked it and it wasn’t too bright. 

He checks his watch that Sarah fixed for his birthday last year and swears when he notices the time. 4:24pm, you’d be over any minute now. He scrambles around the living room making the last final touches. He rushes up to Sarah’s room and looks through her cupboard for her small candle collection. As he goes to grab a vanilla scented candle, he freezes as he remembers you mentioning that the heavy scents make your headaches worse. 

Okay – so no candles then. 

He’s taking the stairs two at a time when he hears your knock on his door, still not wanting to let yourself in even though he’s told you on multiple occasions that you’re more than welcome in his house. 

Joel opens the door after turning the last light off by the front door and his smile drops as he sees the pain behind your eyes. He takes hold of your hand and you sigh as you enter the dark house. 

He gently guides you into the living room and watches you as you take in the space he made for you, a small smile falling to his lips at your soft expression. Your arms are around him in an instant as his hand wraps around your shoulders, his other hand softly rubbing your head, hoping to ease a little of your pain. 

He lifts your head to look up at him when he feels the subtle shake in your chest as he hears you try to muffle a cry. “What’s wrong?” He quietly asks. 

“Nothing, my head just hurts and this is beautiful.” You reply as you turn your head to look over at the pillow fort, the soft warm glow illuminating the room from inside the blankets. 

“Come.” Joel offers as he detaches your hands from his waist and continues to guide you into the living room. He lifts a corner of a blanket and ushers you inside. He crouches at the entrance as you crawl in, taking in the small bowls of snacks and fruit carefully placed on the edge of the blankets and pillows. “Make yourself comfortable, I’ll go get you some pain killers, and fresh popcorn, yeah?” He asks and you eagerly nod in agreement. 

On his return, he shoves the bowl inside before crawling in, thankful for the softness of the blankets on his old knees. You take an overly big handful of popcorn and shove it to your mouth, small crumbs falling into your lap. He hands you a bottle of water and the pills and you struggle to swallow the popcorn before you take the pain killers. 

“How’s your head?” Joel asks as he pushes your hair behind your ear. 

“Think it might end up being a migraine.” You sigh as you pull a blanket over your lap, the crumbs falling into the pillow beneath you. The father in him dusts it to the side without thought, years of cleaning up after Sarah subconsciously implanted into his brain. “Might take tomorrow off work.” You mumble as you lay down, nestling into the pillows. 

Joel huffs as he picks up the popcorn bowl and your hand shoots out from the blanket, tugging it back beside you. “Darlin, if it’s that bad, then let's forget about the popcorn, the snacks and the blanket fort and get you to bed.” 

You frown as you pull the blanket up to your chin and hum in protest. “No. This is nice, I don’t want to move.” You grumble. 

“You sure? I know it's comfortable but if it’s turning into a migraine, you should go lay down.” Joel offers as he leans on his elbow, his other hand slowly tracing your body over the blanket. 

You sigh at the touch and close your eyes, smiling. “Really, it’s nice and dark in here. You did a good job, it’s sweet. I just want to stay here with you.” You open your eyes and look up at him and his heart clenches in his chest.  “But I'll let you take me to bed if it gets worse, deal?” 

Joel’s fingers grip onto the blanket before he soothes the blanket on you. “Yeah, okay. But if I even see the slightest hint of it getting worse, I'm taking you straight to bed, no arguments.” He says in a false firm declaration. Knowing full well that you won't do anything you don't want to.

“Deal.” You say on an exhale as you hug the pillow under your head. 

Joel leans over and kisses your temple, soothing a hand over your hair and you sigh at the touch. 

Din Djarin

Din knows something is wrong when the cockpit is silent for more than a few hours. You had muttered that you were going to go lay down a mere six hours ago, and he didn’t think anything of it, thinking you just needed rest. 

When it hits hour eight, he descends the ladder in search of you. He finds you curled in on yourself in his bed. His bed. He stands there blinking at you for a moment before looking around in search of anything that could explain what was going on. Nothing.  

He says your name but you don't move an inch. He sighs before he wraps a gloved hand around your ankle, instantly making you recoil from his touch as your leg curls into your chest. 

Okay, so not asleep then. 

“What’s wrong with you?” Din asks as kindly as he can but he knows it came off harsh, he normally does. 

“Nothing. Leave me alone.” Your voice is distant and weak and he’s taken back by how you sound, not used to anything but your overly positive attitude. 

Din might get frustrated at how lively and energetic you are, but he definitely wouldn't trade it for anything. Your personality is what makes you who you are and he loves – no, tolerates it no matter how hard it is to keep up at times

Your sniffle brings him back to the moment and he tilts his head at the sound. He would have blamed it on his imagination but he hears it again. “You’re crying?” He asks.

“Din, I said leave me alone.” You snap and he raises his eyebrows under his helmet. 

He turns to leave, listening to your demand but he hears you sniffle again and he stops as he sighs, his shoulders slumping in defeat. He turns the lights off, sending the room into darkness. He takes armour off piece by piece, carefully placing them on the floor before he walks back to you in his flight suit. He takes a strip of cloth and leans over you, pressing the fabric in your hand. “Put this on.” He orders. 

It’s now you finally look over your shoulder and frown at his lack of usual Beskar. “Wha-” 

“I said put it on, cover your eyes.” He points at the cloth and you slowly nod. He watches as you tie it around your head and waits until you lay back down until he takes his helmet off. 

He crawls into the bunk behind you and tugs your back to his chest, a startled gasp coming from your mouth as he moves you. 

“What are-” 

“Have I done something to upset you?” He asks, worry laced in his unmodulated voice. His bare hand holds onto your stomach as he holds you close to him, your own hand covering his. 

You shake your head as you sniffle again. 

“Then why are you crying cyar'ika?” He pushes as his thumb lazily draws circles on your clothed stomach. 

You shrug in his arms and he slowly nods, his lips landing small kisses to your shoulder. “I don’t like it when you push me away.” He sighs into your neck. 

“I’m sorry.” 

He turns his hand from your stomach and holds your hand, squeezing it. “Talk to me cyar'ika. Please.” 

“I don’t know, I don’t know why I feel this way.” You almost choke on your words as you sniffle again and he squeezes your hand again. 

“That’s okay. We can lay here for as long as you need mesh’la.”   

And you do just that, until you turn in his arms and wrap your arms around him. Your head resting on his chest and you sigh contently.

“Feeling better?” He asks as he kisses the top of your head. 

“Sort of.” 

“Anything I can do to fix that?”

“Just hold me.” 

Frankie Morales

To say that he’s in a good mood would be an understatement. Why is Frankie in a good mood? Well, that’s easy, he knows you’re at home waiting for him when he gets home from work. As much as he hated that you were gone before he woke in the mornings, coming home to you made your difference in working hours that much better. 

You’ve been living together for an easy month now and that blissful honeymoon stage never seems to end, and frankly, he doesn’t think it will. 

His mood does however falter when he opens the front door and he doesn’t hear you. Normally there would be the smell of dinner or the sound of music but there’s nothing. Which he thinks is completely fine, just out of the ordinary. He calls your name, thinking maybe you’re in the backyard by the pool but he hears your grumble from the living room.

Okay… 

He cautiously enters the living room, his head peeking around the corner before the rest of his body. 

His happy mood completely vanishes at the sight of you gripping your stomach and taking deep breaths as you lay on the lounge. He rushes to the couch and kneels in front of you. He places his hand on your stomach as his other hand wipes the hair fallen on your face. “Baby, what’s wrong?” He asks, a frown settling on his face. 

“‘M fine.” you grumble and he shakes his head. He’s about to protest but you continue, “Just a bad period, ‘m fine.” You say before your breath falters, your hand gripping onto your own shirt. 

He sighs in relief, his forehead resting on yours as he begins to rub your lower stomach. He pushes himself from you and sits on his heels as he looks down at you. “Why didn’t you text me? I could have brought some stuff home?” He asks as he moves his hand to hold yours. 

“It’s okay.” You sigh as you sit up and his hands rests on your thighs as he looks up at you, his hands slowly running up and down your thighs. 

“Do you have everything you need? I can go to the supermarket, it’s no problem baby.”

You nod as you reach out and run a hand through his hair and he closes his eyes and sighs at the touch before snapping his eyes open and swatting your hand away with a playful frown. “Stop it – it’s supposed to be me looking after you.” He laughs as you roll your eyes. 

“Frankie–”

“Nope, you sit right there, Doctor Frankie will look after you.” He grins as he leans in to kiss your forehead before standing from the couch. 

“Babe–” 

“You’re stuck with me now, your fault for moving in.” He teases as he reaches to take your hands in his. “We can order in if you like? Chinese?” He offers and you nod with a smile. “Perfect! I’ll go get you a heat pack and some chocolate from my stash.”

Your head snaps to him as he moves to go into the kitchen. “You have a hidden chocolate stash?” Your words rushed and your jaw hangs open in shock. 

“Don’t know what you’re talking about.” He snickers as he enters the kitchen. He reaches for the back of the cupboard and takes out a box of cereal you hate and empty the chocolate onto the kitchen counter. 

“IS THERE CHOCOLATE IN THIS HOUSE YOU’RE NOT TELLING ME ABOUT?” you yell from the living room and it takes everything he has not to burst out laughing at your reaction. The exact reason he began hiding the chocolate when you moved in. 

He walks back in with the warm heat pack and block of chocolate and you snatch the bar from his hand. “I will tear this house apart Frankie.” You mutter as you open it and shove a whole row into your mouth. 

He falls into the couch beside you and smiles down at you as you moan at the taste, your eyes closing in bliss. He reaches around your shoulder and tugs you into his side and you willingly snuggle into him. He rests the heat pack on your stomach and you sigh at the feeling.

He finds it oddly amusing that your entire mood changes at the consumption of chocolate, that all the pain you were feeling vanishes. He knows that’s impossible, but it’s cute. He does however rub your stomach at every strained breath, trying to take your focus away from the cramps you felt. 

“Thank you.” You smile as you rest your head on his shoulder. 

“Anything for you baby.”

“Will you tell me where you hide the chocolate?”

“Oh, not a chance.”   

Javier Peña

Javier lifts his hand to knock on your apartment door for the fifth time. His foot taps on the carpet below him and he sighs in frustration as he hears no sign of movement inside. 

“Fuckin’ hell.” He mutters as he digs in his pocket for the space key you gave him; for emergencies only. He really didn’t want to walk into your apartment uninvited but he considers this an emergency.  

It’s been just shy of a week since you last showed up at work, just shy of a week since he last ran into you in the hallways of the apartment complex you shared.

He slowly pushes open the door, half expecting you to start yelling at him – but you don’t. 

He spots the pile of dirty dishes in the sink first and he instantly knows something is wrong since you’re always nagging him for leaving his empty coffee mugs on your desk at work, hating the mess he made just to annoy you. 

He spots the couch next, blankets and pillows left unattended with used tissues covering the floor. Gross. 

He moves to your bedroom door, leaning on the doorframe with his arms crossed as he looks at you in your bed. Your eyes are closed and your chest struggles on each inhale, the sound of your blocked nose filling the room. He almost laughs at that, hearing you snore – but then remembers that you’re actually sick. Great. 

Not wanting to disturb your sleep, he moves to leave. 

“Please tell me you’re here to put me out of my misery.” You groan as you sit up, wiping the snot dripping down from your nose. 

He scrunches his nose at the sight, ignoring the way he wants to rush to get you a tissue. 

“Your place is a mess.” He says instead as he looks down at the sea of tissues both in your bed and the floor and instantly feels guilty as you start coughing, your hand clutching at your chest. 

He frowns then, wanting to rush to your aid but he doesn’t. His feet feel as if they’re concreted to the ground, not allowing him to set foot in your bedroom. 

“You’re welcome to clean up if it bothers you, because I ain't doing it.” You mutter as you collapse back into your pillows. “While you’re at it, can you get me a heat pack?” 

Yeah, he can do that. It’s the least he can do, right? 

He pushes off from your doorframe and walks the short distance to your med cabinet above your stove. He takes the purple sack from the cabinet and tosses it into the microwave as he leans against the counter. He taps his foot as he looks down at the countless plates and half empty take away containers. 

He takes the pack when the microwave beeps and strides back to your room, freezing in the doorway before sighing and walking over to your side. He outstretches his hand and offers you the pack. He pulls it back however as he sees sweat trickle down your forehead as you shiver. He places the back of his hand to your forehead and swears. 

“You’re burning up.” He frowns as you grab for the heat pack. “This is the last thing you need.” 

“But I’m cold Javi,” You whine and he shakes his head. 

“When was the last time you took any Tylenol? Or had a damn shower?” He asks and you shrug. 

He sighs again and walks back into the kitchen, tossing the useless heat pack on the counter along with all your other mess and opens the cabinet again, taking out the container you use to store all your medications. He digs through it and takes out the Tylenol packet and groans when it’s empty. He looks up at the ceiling and closes his eyes. 

Of course it’s empty, why wouldn't it be?

It’s then and there he decides he’s dragging you out of this apartment and into his own. Because there’s no way in hell he’s leaving you here when you’re doing what seems to be a very poor job at looking after yourself. 

He walks back into your room without hesitation this time and grabs onto your hands. You groan as he lifts you to sit up. “What are you doing?” You ask with a frown as he continues to lift you from the bed. 

“Comin’ ‘cross the hall with me.”

“What?”

“You’re going to take a shower, take the Tylenol that I actually have and sleep in a bed that’s not full of snotty tissues.” He softly orders as he drags you across your bedroom. He stops in the middle of your room as he looks down at your snot covered pyjamas. He moves over to your dresser and takes out the first set he sees and continues to march you back to his place. 

You sigh in defeat and follow him, because let’s be honest – you’re in no shape to argue with him right now. 

He hands you the set of clean pyjamas and pushes you into his bathroom. He waits until he hears the shower start before he moves into his bedroom, quickly cleaning up the dirty clothes from his floor and shoving them into the hamper he bought, telling himself that he would actually use it. He hasn’t.  

He pours a cold glass of water and sets two pills on the counter. He stares at the counter and scratches the back of his head, maybe some tea?  

He opens his pantry and kneels as he searches for the box of tea he knows you left here months ago when he had nothing you wanted to drink that last time you were there. He pushes cans around until he finds the box tucked away. 

By the time you exit his bathroom, you look like a different person. Not quite healthy, but no longer looking like you’re on your deathbed. He ushers you into his bedroom and you protest when he motions for you to get into the bed. 

“Get your fuckin’ ass into this bed.” He orders without a hint of anger and you roll your eyes as you do what he says. 

He comes back in with the water, pills and tea. He places the hot tea on his bedside table and hands you the pills and water. You smile as you thank him and he looks around his room, not knowing how to take your thanks. 

“Yeah, well can’t really have you dying across the hall. They’d think it was me.” He jokes instead and you laugh before it sets off another cough and he swears at himself for making you cough.

“Right – well, get some sleep.” He mutters to the floor before he leaves, leaving the door open a crack in case you need something. 

He waits until he hears you snore before he walks over to your apartment and begins cleaning. 

Notes

I am so sick pls tag me in sick!reader fics

My desk is covered in tissues. My bed is covered in tissues. The tissues that make it to my bin, my puppy tips over and starts eating.

[fanaticsnail]

Okay, so I've been slowly working on 'The True Bride' retelling but lately I've been feeling run down and low. Babysitting 3 - THREE! - Duracell batteries (aka kids) leaves me very little brainpower or energy and the days I'm off... I just want to do nothing but rest and be a couch potato. I thought I'd send this little request this way, you know, legal channels and all that.

Could you do something fluffy and sweet (smut can also be added if you'd like!) with either Shanks or Sanji? I'd throw in Law but these two currently are taking all the brain space.

The way I cannot wait for your contribution to the Storyteller Au! It's gonna be so much fun! I feel you on the Duracell babies, my two have been off like a rocket from about 5am (as per the norm). Shanks was not cooperating, so Sanji gets some love this morning. May a little bit of suggestive, sweet domestic fluff ease the burden for you, love.

By Feel

Masterlist Here

Word Count: 1,300+

Synopsis: You challenge Sanji to demonstrate his impressive knife skills for you by chopping up vegetables while blindfolded. He becomes flustered by the amount of attention you give to him.

Themes: Sanji x gn!reader, established relationship, domestic fluff, flirting, knife skills, kissing, blindfolded Sanji, flustered Sanji, suggestive ending.

As soon as the shroud covered Sanji’s eyes, all other senses were heightened. His nose pricked up with the fragrance of sweetness and spices, his tongue tasted the steam in the air wafting from the pan, his ears heard the rough pops and crackles rising in the pan from the contents being of an elevated temperature.

Most of all, his hands were hypersensitive to every soft ridge and divot in the chopping board in front of him, and his connection to his blade felt more sturdy and intentional in each motion. 

“Show me then, Chef,” you tease him, the playful tone in your voice propelling him to prove himself to you. He smirked and impressively twirled the blade in his hands before dropping it in the board. The knife stuck out and wobbled slightly beneath the light as Sanji sought out the carrots and his favored peeler with his fingers.

“Oh, I’ll show you alright,” he picked up one of the carrots in his hands and his peeler, “You watching closely?” Even without the blindfold, you could absolutely see the wink he shot your way beneath the material. 

Leaning forward on the bench, but still lingering far enough out of his way to continue, you witnessed him take the peeler with his dominant hand and wave it backwards and forwards along the length of the carrot. Each moment the blade end of the peeler almost reached his palm, he instinctively knew when to draw it away. Rotating the carrot within his fingers, he continued to drag it back and forward until he felt the flesh of the carrot glisten its dewy juices in his hand.

“Still watching?” he teased at you, his fingers hastily collecting all of the lengthy offcuts of the bitter skin and sliding it into the scrap bin beside the sink. You rolled your eyes before giving him a soft, “Uh huh,” in response. He smiled, shaking his head and collected his blade from beside him: still in the place where he left it.

“Alright then,” he scoffed, his light chuckle found in his tone, “Doubting me?” You shook your head at him, more to scold than to doubt him. 

“No doubts, Chef,” you slowly walk behind him, Sanji’s ears picking up and hearing the soft taps of your shoes on the wooden surface behind him. “Never doubted you to begin with.” As you slowly approach behind him, your hands reach out to collect his hips in your hands. He hissed a soft breath through his teeth and threw his head back as your hands caressed his skin. 

“You gonna let me show you what I can do?” he gasped, his breathing heavy as your hands teased at the waistband of his pants, “Or are you going to distract me on purpose?” You hum a soft chuckle through your lips before placing a soft kiss on his spine. He moaned at the softest touch, the deep rasp in his throat coming out with his breath hitching. 

“I won’t distract you. I just wanted to take a closer look,” you admit, looking down his arms from your position over his shoulder. He gulped his nerves, instinctively leaning his head away from your face in the hopes for more brushes of your lips on his skin. You laugh tight-lipped through your nose at him before tapping his hips to draw his attention back to the task. 

“Okay,” he uttered snarkily, twirling the blade and seeking out the carrot once more. Lining it up with the tip, he exhaled a huff of breath before immediately rocking his arm back and forward, slicing the carrot first into a long, rectangular shape. The ‘shinkt,’ sound of the blade colliding with crisp flesh at a hastened pace had you arch your brow, still watching intently as he expertly placed hasty ridges into the carrot. 

Turning the orange object, he began slicing the vegetable at a different angle. The diagonal cuts never tapped the board, holding it a whisker’s length away from the base of the carrot. As soon as he reached the tip once more, he turned in your arms with the rectangular carrot in his hands. Your hands never left his hips, holding him steady as he gave you a cocky smirk. 

“Watching closely?” he whispered to you. You hum in confirmation at him as you look at the orange figure in your hands. Drawing apart his hands, the length of the carrot extended into a lace pattern. The carrot was still intact, but the knife skills demonstrated by the blonde created a webbed net from the vegetable as he held his arms out to the side. 

His grin only broadened when he heard your gasp, your hands gripping his waist tighter in awe caused a rosy blush to rise in his cheeks. With the blindfold still fixed over his eyes, he lowered his hands with the vegetable reforming into a rectangle. 

“Something you wanna say to me?” his brow arched up under the shroud of the mask. You lean up on the tips of your toes and brush your nose with his. He gasps at you, fluttering his eyelashes beneath the woven material. 

“You are the best chef in the world, and can even craft mastery blindfolded,” you dull your tone, mocking his voice with a smile on your lips. He scoffs at you, moving his head away from yours and purses his lips up in a light pout. You giggle, reaching up to cup his cheek and turn his head back to face you. 

“You don’t have to make petulant bets to prove anything to me. I already think you’re amazing, Sanji,” you press your lips to his unoccupied cheek, your sweetness igniting a swell of heat pooling in his face and almost burning your lips with the intensity. Giggling against his cheek, you pulled away to witness him freeze in place with his lips parted. 

No matter how long the two of you had been together, it never ceased to make you smile with the amount of fluster you could bring to your partner. A simple touch, a soft caress, a gentle compliment all had that soft hue rise to his face, and you couldn't get enough of it.

“Th-Thank you,” he stuttered, his Adam's apple bobbing as he swallowed back his nerves. You decide to press him further, enjoying his light fluster. 

“C’mon, pretty boy,” you praise up at him, hovering your lips over his and tasting the warmth of his sweet air, “Show me what else you can do just by feel, hm?” He immediately whimpered, placing the carrot down behind him as he hastily reached for you and surged his lips forwards to engulf your own in them. 

His kiss was raw, intense and desperate. Lips mouthing and swirling against your own, hungry to consume all you had to offer him in the kitchen space of the Going Merry. The shroud over his eyes had him feel everything: the taste of your lips, the scent of your perfume, the sound of your soft moan, and the feel of your eager reciprocation. He simply couldn't get enough.

Reaching up, he carded his fingers over the back of your scalp and cradled your neck to deepen the intensity. Each press of his lips, swirl of his tongue, and whimper you collected from his mouth within yours had you smile and balance his expression. The flicker of his tongue brushing against yours had the softest taste of metal lingering from his frenulum piercing. The balled circlet brushed against you as he performed his sensual isolation, consuming you entirely.

Pulling away and panting briefly, he finally removed the blindfold to take you in. His eyes were glazed and glassy, lips bruised and swollen, and cheeks dusted with the frosting of a bright pink. Gently caressing your cheek with his palm and fingertips,he leaned forward to press his forehead against yours. 

“Satisfied?” he chirped breathily at you. You chuckled back up at him, nuzzling against his forehead before pulling away to gaze into his eyes. 

“Hardly,” you smiled, “But there’s a remedy for that. Your quarters or mine?” He replaced his forehead with his lips, pressing a soft kiss to your skin while muttering his suggestion. 

“Yours.” 

“Perfect,” you quipped at him, reaching down and taking him by the hand, “Bring the blindfold, but finish what you're cooking in the pan first before it burns.”

"Yes, boss," he uttered snarkily, quickly turning to finish off searing the vegetables and placing it in a pot to simmer low and slow with a variety of meat. His anticipation only grew when he heard every slow and deliberate step taken towards the door.

Hastily completing his duty, he rushed to your side and eagerly followed you like a needy pup towards your quarters, where he showed you exactly what he could do by feel alone.

Tag list: @mfreedomstuff @daydreamer-in-training @since-im-already-here @gingernut1314 @writingmysanity @sordidmusings @i-am-vita @indydonuts @feral-artistry @the-light-of-star @empirenowmp3 @racfoam @sunflowersatori @carrotsunshine @skullfacedlady

[heartfullofleeches]

Remy I miss you I love you also. Titus. I love him and miss him. And also Nightlight reader. Babies. Beloved.

[I had am old blurbo with Nightlight and Titus I scrapped. Here's one for him and Remmy too]

Remmy finding Nightlight Reader at a thrift store while looking for more dolls to add to his collection of antiques. They're the most beautiful "doll" he's never seen- (anything that has a humanoid form and is made of plastic, wood, cotton is a doll to Remmy- even androids). He takes the android home - planning to clean them up and give them a comfortable spot in his room. When Remmy touches the heart on their chest-

"Powering on.......backup battery at 12% percent....Accessing memory...No memories found... error...error...err-"

"Ah!.. That was scary. Hm, where did I end up now? Oh! Hello, tiny person - are you my new owner?"

Remmy instantly falls in love seeing this robot pick up on the dolls on his bed and speaking to it as a normal person. "Um, actually..I think that's me."

"Whoa! Where did you come from? My apologies, owner - what should I call you?

Remmy falls more in love with Nightlight by the second. They're so caring, and warm, and they love to play with his dolls as much as he does. They would follow his every command as part of their programming, but Remmy hardly feels the need to order them around because he knows they'll never leave him and for that he'd do anything from them. Stays awake all night until nightlight carries him to bed making new clothes for them. Buys all the books he needs to repair any minor damages they might have - and completely erase any trace of their memories of the past.

All Remmy needs is Nightlight. All Nightlight needs is Remmy.

-

Titus is given Nightlight Reader as a present from his guards after finding the android in a landfill on earth and repairing them to working order- The emperor has been more irritable than usual- if he dislikes this bot, his guards pray that smashing them to bits will be enough to quell his anger at least for a time. The guards present the android to their king and wait-

"What have you brought to bore me with now?'

"We believe it is an earth made machine designed to relieve stress for humans-"

The emperor chuckles. "Is that so?~ I have been rather pent up recently, and it isn't a complete eyesore, but you are aware of our difference in size, yes? Are you certain it won't break on first use?"

"Er, not in that exact way, your highness. You see, they-"

Titus huffs. "Then what good is it?"

"Just....allow me to turn them on. Please place your finger on their heart, your highness."

"This is ridiculous...."

The emperor does as instructed

"Powering on....Battery at 100%...System rebooting."

"Mm....Huh? What a strange place... Are you my new own..er? Oh, owner- your stress levels are dangerously high - they're increasing by the second! Why won't I sing you a lullaby while you relax with your favorite drink? I know lots, but I can always make up new ones - maybe one about your pretty eyes."

"That..... actually sounds wonderful. I haven't had a decent night of rest in ages. It's humorous to me how you were able to figure that out in seconds when these fools have been with me for centuries. I think I'm going to enjoy your company more than I thought."

Titus cannot go or sleep anywhere which his little nightlight. Feeling their heated, smaller form is all thats needed to knock him out like a light. Nightlight Reader is restricted from joining Titus in meetings for that sole reason. This whole ass tyrant sits in his chair pouting like a child until he can reunite with his little love. Decorates them like the doll they are with jewelry and adorable outfits. Whenever Titus is in one of his rages, guards quickly run off to retrieve nightlight from wherever they're exploring in the palace

[somethingusefulfromflorida]

This is my mom's vintage Kermit the Frog watch from the 90s. I cannot for the life of me find a single scrap of information about it anywhere online. The only result that confirms this watch even exists is a long dead listing without a price on an auction house website (apparently you can pay a subscription fee to see the price, but I'm not doing that). This watch isn't listed on the Muppets wiki with the othet pieces of the Kermit Collection, and it doesn't have any manufacturer info on it, just the copyright for the Henson company.

My mom has kept this watch in storage for years, I haven't seen it since the early 2000s, and I misremembered what condition it was in. I knew something was loose inside, and I thought one of the hands had snapped off, but it was actually the border of the mirror Kermit is looking into. I thought it was damaged beyond repair, but that's a super easy fix. Pop the glass off, glue it back into place, pop the back off, put in a new battery, good as new!

I have no clue who made it or when. This is the entire text on the back:

STAINLESS STEEL BACK ↑ JAPAN ⚡377 WATER RESISTANT V-246 HENL6616

KERMIT COLLECTION

TM & © Jim Henson Co.

And the strap just says

©Henson

GENUINE LEATHER

HONG KONG

I assume HENL6616 stands for Henson model 6616, but according to google, bing, and duckduckgo, that code has never been written on the internet before. It's hard to see on the fifth photo, but it's definitely 6616, not 6676.

⚡377 is the battery, an AG4 377

I have no idea what V-236 means. I'll pop it open later tonight and see if there's anything written inside. Hopefully the battery compartment isn't corroded to hell. If not, I could have it up an running in a matter of hours.

Her birthday is in October, and I think this is the perfect gift. Fingers crossed it still works.

[beautyandlifestyleblog86]

Ways to practice eco-friendly living in your home

1. Reduce energy consumption:

- Install energy-efficient appliances and LED light bulbs.

- Turn off lights and unplug electronics when not in use.

- Use natural light as much as possible.

- Set your thermostat to a lower temperature in winter and higher in summer.

- Insulate your home properly to reduce heating and cooling needs.

2. Save water:

- Fix any leaks in faucets and toilets promptly.

- Install low-flow showerheads and faucets.

- Collect rainwater for watering plants.

- Only run the dishwasher and washing machine with full loads.

- Use a broom instead of a hose to clean outdoor spaces.

3. Practice waste reduction:

- Recycle paper, plastic, glass, and metal.

- Compost kitchen scraps and yard waste.

- Opt for reusable products instead of disposable ones (e.g., cloth napkins, rechargeable batteries).

- Avoid single-use plastics, such as plastic bags and water bottles.

- Use a reusable shopping bag.

4. Use eco-friendly cleaning products:

- Choose natural, non-toxic cleaning products or make your own using ingredients like vinegar, baking soda, and lemon juice.

- Avoid products containing harmful chemicals that can harm the environment and your health.

5. Grow your own food:

- Plant a garden to grow vegetables, fruits, and herbs.

- Use organic and natural fertilizers instead of synthetic ones.

- Compost food scraps to enrich the soil.

6. Opt for sustainable materials:

- Choose furniture made from sustainable materials like bamboo or reclaimed wood.

- Use eco-friendly flooring options like bamboo, cork, or reclaimed hardwood.

- Select paint and other finishes that have low or no volatile organic compounds (VOCs).

7. Reduce plastic waste in the kitchen:

- Use glass or stainless-steel containers for food storage instead of plastic.

- Replace plastic wrap with beeswax wraps or reusable silicone covers.

- Use refillable water bottles and avoid buying bottled water.

8. Conserve energy in the kitchen:

- Use energy-efficient appliances.

- Cook with lids on pots and pans to retain heat and reduce cooking time.

- Opt for smaller appliances like toaster ovens instead of full-sized ovens when possible.

9. Encourage sustainable transportation:

- Use public transportation, walk, or bike whenever possible.

- Carpool or arrange a car-sharing service with neighbors or colleagues.

- Transition to an electric or hybrid vehicle if feasible.

10. Educate and involve your family:

- Teach your family about the importance of eco-friendly practices and involve them in the decision-making process.

- Encourage everyone to adopt sustainable habits and lead by example.

- Discuss environmental issues and brainstorm new ideas for greener living.

[cheerleaderman]

[SSR] Iris Valor- tropical wear

Voice lines under cut

Summon line: [ I only ever seen beaches in photos! Let’s enjoy our time here , right Stitch?] (Stitch: Hyah!)

Groovy: [Locked]

Home: [ Ready to go Stitch?] (Stitch: Ye!)

Home idle 1: [Don’t worry text to speech doesn’t need any connection to work Auntie and Uncle made sure of it.But I still should save my tablet’s battery]

Home idle 2 : [ Auntie let me go on trip with Elara and her father but it was a snowy place other than that I don’t really leave the island of woe]

Home idle 3 : [Dion has been collecting a bunch of seashells, I should find some to add to my collection ]

Home idle- login : [ There’s a bunch of scrap metal here, look like there’s enough to make what we need,okay!do you want to make something together with the extra Stitch?](stitch: Yeaah!)

Home idle-groovy : [Locked]

Home tap 1 : [Hey, Can you take some pictures with me? I want to see Idia and Ortho reactions, I bet they’ll freak out!]

Home tap 2 : [ Azul offered to help me with swimming, I wasn’t struggling that bad was I?]

Home tap 3: [I never worn beach clothes before, I think it suits me well! Look at my nails aren’t they cute ,better than being all sweaty in my uniform ]

Home tap 4:[ Me and Stitch’s Friendship was destined to be! We all ready came up with secret codes and he allows me to help him with some creations] (Stitch: uh huh!) 

Home tap 5 : [Riddle told me not to cause any trouble, I made him almost turn red smirking at him don’t worry I’m just messing]

Home tap-groovy : [Locked]

[DUO]

[Iris]: [Don’t worry Flori I know not to piss off the healer]

[Flori] : You’re one of the few who do Iris

[cicadadust]

I promise I'll get back to drawing canon characters soon. But woo- took me three days to finish. But my boi Kaiba is complete! This is probably the most cluttered ref I've ever made haha.

Potential Rakuyou arc spoilers ahead so be warned:

Originally he was inspired by a post where someone mentioned the artist phenomenon of a canon character basically turning into their OC after awhile.

And it all started with well, I love Kamui. And I love his first official appearance with the bandages obscuring his face - maybe I could work with that. But then I shoved so many of my AU things and other ideas I enjoy into this character that he's mutated so much that he barely has any trace of Kamui left in his character. Definitely not story wise, nor personally, maybe a few elements design wise still along with the fact of being a Yato. Kaiba actually ended up being much more like Kouka story wise than I intended though (*cough* probably because Kaiba was mainly based on my AU of Kamui being the sole Altana mutant on Kouan instead of Kouka *cough*) but eh, I'll live with that.

Despite being a yato and Altana mutant...I may have taken a few creative liberties design wise. But I have my excuses! One thing is, I absolutely love Yato- but wish they had a few more I guess inhuman traits. Like please give them larger canine teeth and reflective pupils please🙏🥺. I thought the reflective pupils for Yato would be really cool, or funny, if Kagura had em too. So I tossed those traits into there. And I know Yato are supposed to be fair skinned- but I had an idea! Since Yato seem to be able to build up a slight tolerance to sunlight, like with Kagura being able to be out in broad daylight, while Housen who hasn't been exposed in a long time immediately started dying. I figured what if during Yato disopra, one of the groups of survivors who had fled Kouan ended up on this sunny desert dwarf planet... probably not by choice. Though there, the survivors perhaps started to build up a higher tolerance to the sunlight. But yet they're still not immune to it. And could have been the downfall of the few generations that had managed to survive for long enough. Kaiba was from this specific clan of Yato that had settled on the dwarf planet. With a slightly higher tolerance to sunlight than the typical Yato, and with the combo of being an altana mutant. Kaiba was free to enjoy the sunlight for much longer before feeling the effects of it, allowing him to gain more of his tanned complexion. Also just shares the same reptile brain as me, with the desire to just lay out in the sun on warm rocks. Though if he's an altana mutant, how come he has a scar? That should just heal right? ... Well, I have absolutely no excuse for that for now! I just wanted to reuse a scar design from one of my older characters because I thought it'd look nice on Kaiba 👉👈.

Now to get a little more into his story and such. It starts off similarly to Kouka's. As again Kaiba is the last member of his clan surviving alone on his birth planet due to him being a mutant. The forgotten dwarf planet, which I've named Ardoros, is covered in reddish orange sands, stone, and a whole bunch of space junk wich collects on its surface. With so much metal and scrap around, Kaiba developed a skill in metal working. And even managed to find a junked ship one day. This was obviously very exciting as he managed to get it to function- just barely. With many days having spent wandering Ardoros previously, he had already discovered one of its altana crystals. Albeit small, he fashioned it into an earring to serve as a battery in a way before he finally left. But being the absolute hunk of junk it was, Kaiba's ship broke down when he managed to land on another planet. And with no money or anything to fix it, he's began relying on hitchhiking. Traveling all over the universe with the aid of strangers. This got to go on for years, exploring new planets, trying new food etc- he absolutely loved it. But, the crystal he wears is almost depleted along with his own altana energy. He continues to hitchhike, yes. But now determined to find his way back to Ardoros before it's too late. Thing is - he's never been skilled at navigating, always leaving that up to whoever he was traveling with. He has also encountered no one else who's even heard of Adoros, no one else knows it's location either. And currently his latest stop during his attempts to get home, is on earth.

[lonestarbattleship]

"Lead ship of a new class of more compact fast battleships, USS South Dakota (BB-57) had the same speed and gun battery as the North Carolina class, but she had a better armor-protection scheme. She underwent mothballing at Philadelphia in 1946, the fate of nearly all the battleships at war's end. This photo, taken in 1962, shows the mothball period coming to an end as the ship, with less than five years' commissioned service on her record, is towed away to be scrapped."

(Naval Institute Collection)

[velmautism]

Now I'm thinking about the gang playing Lethal Company and how well they'd do so here's my thoughts and opinions :]

As a team, they're VERY solid together. They invest fairly early on in helpful tools (mainly flashlights and walkie-talkies), just so that if/when they need to split up they all have ways to communicate with each other. They can go several rounds before they fail to meet their quota.

Shaggy consistently gets 'most paranoid employee.' He and Velma are of the same mind that they should wait until the market is buying scrap at 100% value, and he consistently hangs back on the ship and monitors everyone/communicates when something goes awry. He's more than happy to leave in a pinch (to help collect scrap or corpses) but he gets antsy easily. Least hesitant to leave if everyone else dies. Sorry, but if you, like, die and get left behind that scrap is more valuable than your life. Scooby likes to watch the dots on the monitors move around from over Shaggy's shoulder. He's jumpy though, and gets scared if Shaggy flinches at anything.

Fred is probably the unluckiest teammate. He still hasn't figured out how to check the ceilings of doorways for snare fleas, and has to rely on either his sense of direction or Daphne or Velma with either a shovel or a sign. Every time the ghost girl shows up, he's the target. It doesn't matter to him how often he dies, he's having the time of his fucking life. He LOVES doing the silly little dance emote. He's just having a goofy time with his friends. He is not allowed to go out to collect scrap during thunderstorms.

Daphne's only downfall is that she's too eager to try to fight things. She gets good with the hitboxes, and is good at killing spiders and snare fleas. But sometimes her hubris gets the best of her, and she gets scolded every time her corpse has to get dragged back to the ship. Runs into dark rooms with hardly a second thought, tends to get lost on occasion and then reemerge after nightfall. Somehow she still has yet to die while running back to the ship. Drowns the most, for some reason. Most insistent on visiting more dangerous planets for the payoff.

Velma gets way too into it. She's always thinking up strategies for collecting the most the team can on any given day. Avoids creatures if she sees them, and is absolutely fucking terrified by the jack-in-the-box. Always goes back for any bodies, even if it's like 10pm in game already. Because damn it, she's going to try! Is usually trusted to go off on her own, but falls down pits on occasion and gets mad about it whenever she does. Most likely to run out of battery on her flashlight.

Early on in the game, Velma got suffocated by a snare flea. Everyone else just laughed at her as she ran around screaming because they didn't know what to do otherwise.

Everyone has a favorite scrap item they're protective of if they happen upon them. Fred ALWAYS takes the apparatus if he finds one (much to everyone else's annoyances at having to run around in the dark). Shaggy is very fond of rubber duckies. Daphne loves finding signs, and will always forgo a shovel in favor of smacking something with a stop sign. Velma likes finding v-type engines, even if she has to carry it with both hands.

Shaggy once left Velma behind while she tried to cart Fred's body back to the ship, because he saw an eyeless dog. She still has not forgiven him for it.

Daphne found out the hard way friendly fire was a thing when she smacked the shit out of Fred, who had already been injured by fall damage, and killed him.

Shaggy went out to retrieve supplies and got squashed by the delivery rocket once by accident, and had to deal with everyone else laughing at his expense regardless of who he was spectating.

[zone-seven]

Thinking about zones culture...

(Before I get into this, please keep in mind that I see the DD universe as like 75 years removed from the literal apocalypse, so things like communication, transportation, and infrastructure are very different from our modern world, or even the real world 1950s. Add that to extreme poverty, and you get zone dwellers living 'only' 200km apart who don't necessarily know that much about each other first hand.)

Really there is no singular "zones culture". Well, there is in a sense — in the interplay between the collective cultures of the California Desert — but that's nobody's real culture. It's just the natural result of cultures colliding.

This half-real "Zones" culture is little things — like everybody knowing a little bit of English, but not because they speak it for real, just because it's the lingua franca between communities, and between the desert and Battery City. It's using the same ingredients in very different cuisines because those are what's available in this time and climate. It's dressing pretty differently but following similar principles, since everyone lives with the same relentless sun, dust, and drought. It's broad things that came about due to proximity or convenience, not necessarily out of a sense of community.

But then there are smaller, much real-er cultures — local ones, lone ones, town-by-town ones. It does tend to cluster in regions, and there is lots of crossover of course, but each settlement, whether 100 people or 10,000 people, has it's own norms and customs. There's a lot of dead space out there; neutral towns vary wildly in their languages, religions, beliefs, and values... and smart folks will know at least a bit about their immediate neighbours! It's hard not to, to be honest. Life in the desert of California (and maintaining sovereignty from Battery City) requires a decent bit of cooperation and willingness to form alliances.

Some of the biggest towns in the Zones — the few approaching that 10,000 citizens mark — have quite the influence on the settlements around them. The biggest of them even exert influence on the entirety of the Zones, being big enough to support things like newspapers and far-reaching radio stations. Even then, though, people really do value tradition and custom; they've fought tooth and nail to keep it, as did their parents, grandparents, and so on. The city is already after their culture. They're not friendly to people trying to change their ways.

Killjoy culture is a little different.

Killjoy culture, as I'm defining it in my canon, is primarily the culture of ex-citizens of Battery City. Of course, it is also describing a political movement, and these escapees are not totally isolated in their politics, so it also includes some people who were born in the desert. There are plenty of reasons why desert-borns dislike the city, though few take it so far as to join up with killjoys. Similarly, some immigrants from the city have no interest in the political fight and instead do their best to assimilate into (usually) one of the larger towns. Mainly, however, I think about Killjoy culture as being heavily influenced by Battery City, especially in ways that feel very 'un-city' and free to people who once lived there, but feel restrictive and extremely 'city' to anyone desert-born. It's sort of separate from the cultures of desert towns as a whole, because they do not interact nearly as much or on as good terms. Neutrals don't have the sort of wariness with each other as they do with 'joys.

So, I think killjoy culture is sort of false in the same way that "zones culture" is false. It exists, but it's built first and foremost around something other than its people. Well, that combined with whatever scraps of Old World (pre apocalypse) culture their family in the city managed to keep. Very “killjoy” to have one-of-a-kind cobbled together cultures like that.

Killjoys do have a sense of community, though neutrals often miss this because killjoy community looks different than theirs. Killjoys are often rather nomadic, and they're always scattered. A lot of their culture is in media, and in folklore, and in the few events that are important enough for mass gatherings. Different than typical zones folklore, which often follows certain themes — killjoy folklore is heavily influenced by lobby culture, including a lot of droid religion.

But folklore is another topic…

[womanofwords]

Nerd Juvie (Chapter 1)

The crowd was chanting my name. Not my real name, of course. My biker name. They had gotten into the habit of doing that as I drove up to the road.

"Hey, Comet!

"What's up, Comet!

"Put it there, Comet!"

Lee grabbed me into a hug. "Comet, buddy, good to see you. You've been gone for so long," he said.

"Sorry, I couldn't get away," I said. That was true. I'd been grounded by my folks and barely got alone time to go to the bathroom, let alone sneak out of the house.

"You hear about Solar? Dude's awesome, man. Outran the cops once, I heard."

"Sounds hardcore."

"He is hardcore." A motorbike's purr rumbled towards us. "And here he is."

A man rode towards us on a bike with a sun motif on the side. He wore black and was intimidating right from the get-go. The same sun patch that was on his bike was on the back of his jacket. I had briefly thought about having something like that for myself, but I didn't want people thinking I was a poser.

"You must be Comet." His voice was gravelly, like he gargled acid before breakfast and it messed up his vocal chords. "You seem a little young to be here. Isn't it your bedtime?"

The crowd oohed. "Isn't it your naptime, old man?" I asked him.

He laughed. "Oh, you're adorable. That's cute, kid. Beating you is going to be fun."

"You know the drill, guys, you only go when I say so," Lee said, cutting into our trash talk. "Three times around the track. On your marks . . . get set . . . go!"

Solar took the lead, but I was close behind. He wasn't as ridiculous as we all thought. But the first bend was about to come up. Solar wouldn't stand a chance. But I would, thanks to my bike.

My bike used to be a collection of scraps I salvaged from the garbage dump. It was up to me to make it into something great. It hovered when I wanted it to, went much faster than any normal bike, and with the holographic shield I put on it, it even changed colour. It would blend in perfectly outside of a race. I had the perfect bike. I made it the perfect bike.

I took the bend with ease, leaving Solar in the dust. I was winning this race. The distance between us stretched like elastic. I was winning. I was the best underground racer any of these suckers had ever seen. And Solar would just have to-

"Cops!" someone screamed, and everybody scattered.

"Get yourself out of here, kid," Solar said, racing off. One of the cop cars followed him.

I went to my bike's touchscreen and adjusted a few settings. It was about time my shooting star began to fly.

My bike hovered with a stutter before settling into a sweet purr, and I angled it higher. I was not going to be the one to get busted.

"Hey, he's going up!" a police officer yelled.

"Great observation, moron!" I yelled. "Sorry to keep you waiting, but I gotta fly!"

I loved flying on my bike; everything looked small and harmless underneath me. I just wish I could stay in the air forever.

But I don't get what I want very often.

The world spun as I fell to earth. The bike's battery beeped a digital swan song as I fell like Icarus.

This was as far as my wax wings would take me.

If you want to read the other chapters, see Masterlist.

[farmhousesaleinnoida]

Scrap Buyers in Hyderabad@+91 82978 65751

Scrap Buyers in Hyderabad@+91 82978 65751

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There are many ways to sell scrap materials online in Hyderabad as they will come to you on time and pick them up. You can get 24 hours turnaround time, which is not much to get rid of this rubbish collection. There is a freedom to sell metals and non-metals in return for cash in Hyderabad.

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You can call us at +91 82978 65751  if you are looking for scrap buyers or scrap dealers near you. You can check the Scrap Price or Rate List by calling our customer care team. We are dealing in the following scrap categories –

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[mrsgabby-vtuber]

Alan Wake II: 8/10

Gabby G. Ghoulligan

A masterclass in narrative presentation, held back by technical follies and a lackluster combat system

Cultural Context

The early lead up to, and ultimate the entirety of, the 2010s represented a shift in the horror game genre. Resident Evil 5 (2009) had just been released, completely transitioning the beloved survival horror franchise into a coop action shooter. And although the premiere of Dead Space in 2008 proved that intense survival horror was still desirable, that franchise too would find itself following its parentage into the action genre under E.A.'s demand. Silent Hill: Shattered Memories (2009) would be the last well-received Silent Hill project, sandwiched between Silent Hill: Homecoming (2008) and Silent Hill: Downpour (2012) , until Hideo Kojima's P.T. would stealthily drop onto PSN in 2014. In the wake of the loss of Silent Hill, survival horror fans had slim pickings for equally mind-itching narratives. Many likely found themselves attracted to the upcoming Amnesia: The Dark Descent (2010) , whose popularity with early Youtube personalities would kickoff the Era of the Lets Play. But before this would happen, one last scratch came from Finland to remedy their burning itch.

Alan Wake (2010) presented itself as a novel come to life, cribbing much of its aesthetic and themes from the likes of Neil Gaiman and Stephen King. The game sets itself in Washington State, a lakehouse settled on a cliff occupied by the titular Alan Wake and his wife Alice. Alan is, for all intents and purposes, a Stephen King stand-in. He's a highly successful author, plagued by his success and subsequent writer's block. His wife arranges for their lodgings, secretly hoping this will provide him with some miraculous inspiration. Throughout this game, Wake finds himself fighting away shadows, known as "Taken", and collecting scraps of a manuscript he doesn't remember writing.

All in all, the game's combat sequences are satisfying, but leave little room for diverse play. Enemies have a shroud of darkness that serves as a damage sponge. Wake can use his flashlight, limited by the number of batteries he has collected, to remove this shroud. There's also a variety of throwables, but their differences are minimal. Explosion range, whether or not they stun enemies, and how long their light lasts are the main variables at play. Wake can also pick up a set of weapons outside of the starting revolver: a shotgun, a hunting rifle, and a flare-gun. Again, these are your standard fare of weapon options: fire rate, spread, average shot power. Once you've reached the halfway point, these combat encounters are all but solved, and it turns into a battle of attrition. What ammo are you willing to part with in the short term versus the long-term potential of restocking your supplies? In 2010, this was serviceable, but the Dead Space franchise would provide its players with a more nuanced flow to combat. Outside of combat, however, Alan Wake's gameplay is incredibly dry. Basic, exploration-based puzzle solving requiring you to interact with an object or pick up an item. This, combined with the lackluster gameplay, made for a middling action game at best and a barebones survival-horror at worst.

Where Remedy shined brilliantly, however, the game's atmosphere and world-building. The collectible manuscripts from Alan's novel "Departure" are littered across the game's maps. Each one read and voice-acted by the competent Matthew Porretta, these pages provide a kind of "preview" to what's to come. The prose is very similar to that we'd find in Remedy's earlier Max Payne titles, which is later used as a plot thread to imply that the titular Max Payne is an invention of Alan Wake's fictional writing. Of course, by the time of Control (2019)'s re-introduction of Wake's character, the studio had loss the rights to the name "Max Payne". This makes for a very interesting plot line later in the sequel. Outside of the in-universe writing, there were also a series of live action productions for the fictitious show "Night Springs" - a clear facsimile of The Twilight Zone. Players could find certain television sets airing individual episodes, which were later canonized to be Alan Wake's first step on his path to becoming an acclaimed novelist. There were also a number of radio and music broadcasts found throughout the world, which provided texture to the history and culture of the small Washington town, Bright Falls. Players could find themselves engaged with this world and its background radiation of a greater space beyond the rustic mountains.

This multimedia approach to narrative and game design led to its partnership with Microsoft to develop a new IP, Quantum Break (2016), whose success ultimately allowed Remedy to buy back its rights to Alan Wake. From there, they've since partnered with Epic Games, and developed Control (2019) and a remaster of the original Alan Wake in their new "Northlight" engine. Their focus on creating engaging, cinematic experiences has influenced the visual design of their most recent titles, particularly Control and Alan Wake II.

Presentation

The creation of Northlight paved the way for Control (2019)'s fantastical "projection" character profiles. These are the most stand-out feature of Control's gripping atmosphere, where live-action film sequences of a given character is played over the 3D game space. This is an impressive implementation of the all-too-typical "collectible audio logs" that has plagued games for decades now. From Bioshock (2007) to Horizon Zero Dawn (2017), characters can't seem to stop recording themselves for the most mundane things. Control and later, Alan Wake II, are not unique in how they re-contextualize these recordings as remnants of a person's thoughts. However, the addition of the environment influencing their presentation gives them much more weight. These are not just a series of lines voice acted, and scattered. They are intentional, they provide greater context to the environment, and their visual design feels hand-crafted on an individual level. This design element alone helps drive home the sense that we are engaging in not just a piece of media, but a material thing with some sort of importance to the grander tapestry of Remedy's body of work. An object of power, if you will.

This is all available through the game's impressive lighting engine, something Remedy has been trying to perfect since back when Alan Wake (2010) was initially going to have a day/night cycle. Atmospheric lighting, ray-tracing, and an enhanced physics-suite are additional technical features that allow Remedy's latest titles to feel hefty. Unique to Alan Wake II is of Bright Falls' ever-encroaching darkness. This is most felt during Saga's segments. Players are oft surrounded by dense forest that stretches upward to hide the sun. Only the minimal light of dusk manages to peek through the slim breaks in the tree-line. Curated, subtle brushes of the grass tickle at the edges of earshot, an owl hoots, and something in the woods stirs unexpectedly. I found myself using my flashlight even during segments in the late afternoon, so my own light could burn away the heavy shadows that would fall across rocks and buildings. Alan's waking nightmare of a fantastically-morbid New York is much darker, both literally and figuratively. Tasked with finding his way out of The Dark Place, Alan often finds himself at the remains of a cult's ritual sacrifices. Scenes of bloodied halls, charred train passengers, and flooded TV studios are his only means of getting out. Swirling veils of dark aura will often blur a path in the game's intuitive attempt to direct a player's intended path. The silhouettes of the Taken intermingle with non-hostile, but equally creepy, shadows constantly whispering slurred ramblings of "the writer" and "my story". Saga and Alan's respective environments mirror each other. Nature surrounds the player as Saga, a deer being preyed upon as it treks through the dark woods. Players as Alan are left isolated, a lone survivor in a pitch city with nothing but remains.

The game's soundtrack is a whiplash of what should be tonal dissonance. Instead, I've developed a fondness for Finnish folk music and Scandinavian power metal. Chapters are divided by songs which astute players may notice are either summaries of what they've just played, or what is to come. Not all of these are hits, unfortunately. I remember distinctly a very lacking horrorcore rap track towards the end of the game. That being said, I have been listening to Yötön Yö (Nightless Night) as performed by Ahti and the Janitors on repeat for several days. I don't have a masterful ear, so I won't focus too much on the soundtrack. There's probably something for everybody in this game, and the soundtrack is freely available online via streaming services and fan-rips.

I will say, however, that Alan Wake II 's use of "jump scares" is somewhat outdated at this point. There are several moments throughout the game where a scary visual, along with a loud roaring type sound, are flashed in front of the player. There's not a setting to turn this off, and many of them serve the narrative purpose of announcing the presence of "Mr. Scratch" - the villainous embodiment of the Dark Presence using Alan Wake as a template. I would have preferred some other way of conveying this information, perhaps like flickering lights or simply the absence of light itself. With that being said, the game's overall presentation was stunning, outside of some technical issues.

Technical

For context, I played the game on PC, where it is being hosted on the Epic Game Store. The game was marred with technical issues on release, and the development team requested players use EGS' bug reporting functionality to contact them. Unfortunately, the steps necessary to do this are incredibly unclear. Moderators on r/AlanWake found it necessary to detail these steps in a pinned thread dedicated to bug reporting. Many issues included dialogue not syncing with mouth animations, items not being interactive, and a soft-lock that occurred in Chapter 5. Thankfully, most of these issues were resolved in the 1.0.13 update, which added NG+ alongside various bug fixes. Unfortunately, I still dealt with VRAM issues forcing the game to reduce the game's textures (including your in-game map) to mush. I have a pretty good PC, decked out with an Ryzen 5800_x3D and an RTX 3070, which meets the game's recommended specs. The lack of a built-in measurement of VRAM usage led me to constant experimenting with my settings, which only served to pull me away from the atmosphere of this game. I also found a well-reported bug where one of Saga's final inventory upgrades cannot be interacted with . Thankfully, the game's balance didn't make this too much of an issue, but it's very frustrating to solve a puzzle for no reward. Despite Remedy's technical proficiency with their engine, I was also disappointed by what I felt were only standard options. Unlike the game's contemporaries, the RE Franchise, none of these settings have a visual component to them. Players with less technical know-how may find themselves in similar "test and repeat" scenarios as myself. The aforementioned lacked of a VRAM usage graphic also means that players will have no idea how much certain settings will affect their system. There's also the matter of DLSS frame generation seemingly not working at all . You can, technically, go into an .ini file and change the setting manually. However, I did not notice a difference during gameplay, and cannot confirm if the feature worked as intended. All in all, the game was functional, but I found myself fiddling with it far more than I would expect from the title.

Gameplay

People introduced to Remedy by Control (2019) will feel an immediate difference from general movement to gunplay. Actions like changing equipment or aiming your weapon are far slower, movement speed is significantly slower, and the camera is much tighter even compared to the original Alan Wake. While different than what some folks are used to, this is a tried and true game-feel for us survival-horror girlies. This game takes much more pages from the Resident Evil remakes specifically, down to the d-pad being your weapon selection interface. Fans of the more recent Resident Evil titles will also find themselves engaging with a much clunkier, less tactile inventory management system. This game is very conservative with how many items it allows per stack, and that serves the purpose of forcing the player to leave some things in the magical shoe box. Unfortunately, the shoe box is also not infinite, and more resourceful players (like myself) will find themselves having to needlessly toss aside several items to fit a shotgun into a shoe box. This and the lack of responsiveness in the controls lead to a damp, mushy feeling to the whole menu. If the shoe box was changed to be an infinite storage device, as it already is in the narrative, then my gripes would be mostly dissuaded.

As Saga Anderson, the FBI Agent in charge of investigating a recent string of disappearances in Bright Falls, you can explore three main areas. In each, you can find a variety of nursery rhyme riddles scattered around the map. These rhymes aren't particularly difficult themselves, but completing them all will require some heavy exploration, retreading old steps, and some themed combat challenges. These reward you with additional charms for your bracelet, which give Saga various bonuses such as: increased maximum health, greater healing from items, better resources from pick-ups, etc. However, half of these rhymes will reward you with the "coffee mug" charm, which serves as an instant revive. Playing on normal difficulty, and having some proficiency in the genre, I didn't find combat so difficult as to use up one of my 3 charm slots for what is essentially a worse restart button. As such, half of my shoe box's inventory was entirely charms . The second most prominent item I'd found were full-heal items like the first aid kit. The reward for completing all of the nursery rhymes? Some lore about the Federal Bureau of Control, and an extra slot on your charm bracelet. Maybe then someone will find a use for those coffee mugs.

The game does a great job of maintaining its dynamic difficulty, and some of it seems tied to your pistol ammo. Midway through the game, I noticed that sometimes, fallen enemies will drop ammo. And I noticed that it was primarily ammo for my starting firearm or my flashlight. The game seems to want players to always have at least 12 pistol bullets, with a maximum of ~ 30 (assuming you don't have any ammo in your other guns). More spreadsheet-inclined players have probably mapped out the ideal inventory setup by now, but my results after ~ 20 hours of play involved me stashing several high-damage throwables and full heals away in my item box. During the end game, I received one last weapon to my arsenal, which directly replaced my current shotgun. I recall having to walk up and down a flight of stairs in the police precinct to get to the nearest safe one, so I could drop off enough resources to grab it. Unfortunately, the game doesn't tell you how many slots a given item takes up in your inventory, so this took more trips than I'd care to admit. For the record, it's 4 horizontal lines.

The gameplay loop between Alan Wake (2010) and this sequel are very similar, but AW2 manages to win out its predecessor's shortfalls by giving Saga Anderson some mentally-stimulating criminal investigation abilities. Without diving too deep into it, Saga has the ability to intuit her subject's inner thoughts. She also projects her Mind Palace, henceforth called "The Mind Place", around her to help keep track of her lines of questioning, clues, and collectibles. Players will find themselves investigating scenes, picking up documents and evidence, and gaining "clues" to answer "questions" on Saga's cork board. While it's not as complex as the infamous "Pepe Silvia" corkboard from It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia , it provides a clear through-line for key plot elements. You can tell the writers had a very fun time designing this mechanic, because they play around with it often. Late into the game, the Mind Place serves as a moment for self-reflection, and Saga's methods are used against her by the Dark Presence. Other characters interact within this Mind Place as well, and its real-world counterpart ties into another series of collectibles - the Deer Heads.

Finding all of the stuffed Deer Heads in Bright Falls is a much more relaxed task, and mostly only serves to provide some extra texture to Saga's inductive reasoning abilities. There are ten total, and the reward for finding them all is sufficient for a simple matter. Don't worry too much if you don't find them, because they aren't critical to the story or combat. Much of the same can be said of the various "cult stashes", which are boxes filled with ammo that require puzzle-solving and key-finding to open. Many of these were pattern recognition puzzles, but I did have to solve more than two math problems - even some pre-algebra, which was a fun surprise.

Most importantly, there are the Alex Casey lunch-boxes. Collecting these serves as your method of upgrading your offensive capabilities. You find a lunch box, you get some scraps of a manuscript, and you use a sum of those scraps to unlock an upgrade. The game gives you three choices per type of weapon, and some upgrades have multiple tiers; (25% healing to 50% healing, for example).

Alan Wake's portion of the game is much more streamlined. Unlike Saga, Alan doesn't have much in the way of collectibles. There are some "Words of Power" which serve as his form of the lunchboxes, and operate much the same. Likewise, he has a number of stashes he can find, which again only have some excess resources that can be used in combat. Wake's main addition to his previous game's loop is the introduction of "The Plot Board" - a narrative device that allows him to change the context of the story he's been trapped in while occupying the Dark Place. As Alan, players will explore the map to locate the next "murder site", where they'll find hints as to how to drive the plot forward and change the scene. His powers have their limits, however, and do not allow him to change the story's genre - it must remain a horror story. As such, Alan has to navigate horrifying sequences of events that have an affect on the reality of Bright Falls and Saga's investigation. I never felt that either character's respective parts overstayed their welcome. The freedom to switch between each playable character at a whim was a very good choice, and I think that'll help keep this game from getting stale on further replays.

While I functionally 100%-ed the game (all deer heads, all charms, fully-upgraded Alan, etc.), the need for backtracking through mostly-empty sections of the map were dull. Unlike cult stashes, there's no map markers for uncompleted rhymes and discovered but untouched Deer Heads. I ended up needing a guide to breakdown which ones I was missing. Areas you revisit after their stories are settled will repopulate with a small amount of enemies, but I was never leaving these areas with less than I walked in with. Perhaps the game's balance was a bit too lenient on normal difficulty, or maybe Sam Lake's team valued the story they were telling over resource management.

Story

Sam Lake is Sam Lake is Alex Casey is Alex Casey is Alex Casey is James McCaffrey and Sam Lake is Max Payne. Who exists inside of Alan Wake's books. Who is a character in the Control universe.

I can best describe this game's narrative as a Finnish version of the kind of overly-genuine auteur we find in Hideo Kojima. Sam Lake and his writing team have a clear appreciation for their influences and their heritage, and they've used their last few titles to really sell that as a visual identity for themselves. They've been using the same ring of Finnish body actors and American voice actors for the same gang of characters in all of their stories. Even Quantum Break (2016)'s Shawn Ashmore comes back as a character name Tim(e) Breaker . They're not afraid to be on the nose, but it never comes off as pretentious. Self-love for a world this team has been developing since at least 2011 is on remarkable display, and ultimately culminates in a story that is, if sometimes predictable, at least fun to participate in. Many of Remedy's inside-jokes with their characters may go over the heads of people not in the know, but some of them will land by the time the player is reaching the big end game.

The plot itself revolves around Saga Anderson, whose investigation of Bright Falls quickly develops into a horror mystery as residents hint at a time in her life she doesn't recall. A jaded ex-husband, a flooded trailer park, and a family she's never known. The Cult of the Woods leads her to find Alan Wake, the author that went missing in Bright Falls 13 years ago, washed up on the shores of Cauldron Lake. He's involved somehow, the Cult using his manuscript Return as a blueprint for their ritualistic murder, but she's unsure how. Meanwhile, Alan Wake finds himself caught again in the nightmare, unable to cut away from an insidious loop within his writer's room. Pages and pages of a manuscript he doesn't remember writing, his name scratched out on the title page - the door slams. Mr. Scratch, delirious, seething with primordial darkness attacks him. A gunshot rings, and Alan finds himself back again.

I was an avid Stephen King reader as a teenager, and this game's story brings me back to the place where I could engage with horror at face value. There's no jaded, inversive tongue-in-cheek at play here. The game takes its horror elements seriously, but isn't afraid to use levity either. And when it does have levity, it indulges itself to its fullest extent. Likewise with the darker elements of the plot. Players should be aware that there are some intense scenes that, while not always violent and gruesome, can be just as impactful and effective. Things like a burning train car filled with the screams of a few dozen people, anxiety disorder, and suicide. These aren't the only examples, but these did stick out to me personally.

As usual, Remedy's background story-telling is excellent. Radio broadcasts, Night Springs clips, and manuscript pages all return as collectibles that serve to provide a greater scope to the story as a whole. There's also the addition of choice characters from Control found in select television displays, live action advertisements from Bright Falls' local Finnish population , and plenty of interactable elements in the environment that add more to the setting. My personal favorite was the Ahma Beer TV commercial.

Conclusion

By the end of Alan Wake's New Game+, titled "Final Draft", we receive a conclusive end to Alan Wake's journey. However, that's not to say there isn't a promise for more. With an upcoming Control 2 in the works, alongside Max Payne remakes, I can only hope this isn't the last we'll see of Saga Anderson or Alan Wake.

Rest in Peace James McCaffrey.