#scrap collecting simulator

[kaiserouo]

peaceful mode lethal company

[moeitsu]

The Dark Tide Siren!Arthur Morgan x Reader Modern AU Ch 6 - Caught Between Two Worlds Summary: Hosea gathers the team for a meeting to bring everyone up to speed on the facility’s newest resident. But when the discussion turns to Arthur’s behavior, all eyes land on you. How do you explain what you’ve seen—what you’ve felt—without revealing just how deeply involved you’ve become? wc: 8.4k tw: none! Swim Back! ↞ ﹏𓊝﹏ ↠ Sail Ahead!

AN: Get ready for some info dumping about Arthur's biology. Reader is about to discover that he's a whole lot more complicated than meets the eye...

tag list: @photo1030 @v3lv3tf0x @ireallyhonestlydontcare @shygamergirl01 @cloudywithachanceofcrisis @sevikaspuertoricanwife @abducted-cowz @bomdada

I shouldn’t have been surprised when I received the group text from Hosea this morning about an emergency team meeting before doors opened at 8 a.m., but still, my heart raced with worry. No matter how much I tried to prepare myself, the weight of it all just kept pressing in, suffocating. This is real. Soon, the entire facility would know about Arthur—his existence, his pain, his torment. They would want to study him, question him, prod at the mystery of what he was. He was an enigma even to the most renowned scientists, and now, he was no longer a secret.

And he would no longer be mine.

What the hell am I even thinking? Arthur isn’t some kind of pet. 

I swallowed hard, my stomach twisting at the thought. Arthur was never mine to begin with. He wasn’t something to be kept, to be held onto. He had spent his life running from chains, from being owned, from being a specimen in a tank just like this. And yet, despite all logic, despite every warning in my mind, I couldn’t shake the feeling that something had shifted between us this morning.

His words echoed in my mind with every step I took down the long corridor toward the conference room.

The space is nice, bigger than what I had before.

He had said it so simply, so matter-of-factly. But beneath those words was an unspoken truth. It’s still a cage. No walls of glass, no simulated ocean could change that. He didn’t belong here. He should be out there, in the vast, endless blue, moving freely as the tide pulled and pushed him wherever he pleased. He should be collecting treasures and trinkets, hoarding them away in whatever place he called home.

He should be with his own people. If he even knew where to find them.

The way he looked at me—like my gift meant more to him than just a token of my apology, like it was something sacred—it made my chest ache with an emotion I wasn’t ready to acknowledge. I love it, he had said, and I’d never seen his eyes so bright, so full of gratitude and something else—something warm.

But it wasn’t just the shell.

I had a sinking feeling that the shell I gave him was the first and only gift he had ever received. Judging by his reaction, it wasn’t just a trinket to him. He didn’t look at me like I had handed him a scrap of debris washed ashore, something forgotten and discarded by the tide. No, he looked at me like I had just breathed life into his gills after he had spent a lifetime suffocating. Like I had given him something he didn’t know he was allowed to have. 

I was opening doors for him that will never close again. 

Those crystalline blue eyes—so filled with sorrow and pain—had glimmered, however briefly, with true happiness. Real, unfiltered joy. I just wanted to dive into the water, uncaring if I drowned, and wrap my arms around him. Hold him the way he had never been held before, with a tenderness that he had been denied for too long. To press my cheek to his and whisper the words I knew he had never heard but desperately needed. 

You’re safe. You’re free. You’re worthy of love.

But that wasn’t my job.

No, my job was to rescue, rehabilitate, and release. And Arthur was not mine to keep.

Not mine to love. 

The weight of that truth pressed heavy in my chest as I forced myself to swallow my nerves, inhaling deeply to steady the storm raging inside me. I could already hear the loud chatter echoing from beyond the glass door, the energy buzzing in the air like static before a storm. It was going to be one hell of a meeting. Not only were we about to confirm that, yes, magical sea creatures—ones that looked half-man, half-fish—actually existed, but more than that, we had one right here in our facility.

And that I had, more than once, drifted too close to him—touched him so intimately that even the tides would whisper of it.

Shaking the thoughts from my head—or at least trying to—I pushed open the door and slipped into the conference room, sliding into a seat beside John. 

“This is already shaping up to be a dumpster fire,” John muttered under his breath, his tone dripping with sarcasm. “You ready for it?”

I let out a slow sigh. “Do I have a choice? You’re the one who dragged me into this mess to begin with.”

John only grinned, shaking his head.

My heart was still hammering against my ribs, but I forced myself to sit tall, to appear unaffected. Normal. Like I hadn’t spent the last twenty-four hours tangled up in something far bigger than myself.

Like I hadn’t spent the night replaying every stolen touch, every lingering glance—fantasizing about his rugged face, the powerful lines of his body, and all the ways I could explore him further—Stop. 

I needed to stop. But the more I tried to push him from my mind, the deeper he sank into me, like saltwater soaking into my very bones.

At the front of the room, Charles and Lenny stood beside a double-sided whiteboard, stacks of textbooks and research papers scattered across the table. Lenny had a dry erase marker in his hand, a few more tucked into his breast pocket. He was speaking quietly to Charles, likely bracing himself for the moment he would drop the news of his findings on the rest of the team.

The room quieted as Hosea and Sadie made their way inside, the air shifting with an unspoken gravity. Sadie took a seat opposite me, offering a polite smile and a small tip of her hat. I returned the gesture with a nod and a quick wave, though the anticipation buzzing in the room made it hard to focus on pleasantries.

I swallowed hard, my fingers curling into the fabric of my pants beneath the table. Here we go.

Hosea cleared his throat, resting his hands on the back of an empty chair as he looked around the room. His gaze was warm, familiar—like a father addressing his family.

“Mornin’, everyone. I hope you all got a strong cup of coffee in you because today’s gonna be a big one.” He let out a small chuckle, shaking his head. “I know I ask a lot from you, but that’s because I know what we’re capable of when we pull together as a team. If there’s anyone who can handle a crisis like this one, it’s the people in this room.”

Hosea straightened, his presence commanding yet reassuring as he met each of our gazes, his voice carrying a weight that settled deep in our chests. It wasn’t just a speech—it was a call to action.

“We’ve got ourselves a new resident. And he’s gonna need us—all of us.”

* ‧̍̊˙· 𓆝.° ｡˚𓆛˚｡ °.𓆞 ·˙‧̍̊ *

I had to hand it to Lenny—he gave it to us straight. No sugarcoating, no easing us into the reality of it. Hosea had just dropped the bombshell that our new resident wasn’t like anything we’d ever encountered before. Not just a rare specimen or an undocumented creature, but something entirely new, something that defied the limits of scientific research. There was no guidebook for this. No precedent. Just theories, speculation, and a desperate need to understand.

And that was where Lenny came in.

Charles’ bright young intern had spent the last day and a half buried in textbooks, research papers, mythology records—anything that could shed light on what we were dealing with. He had scoured articles, cross-referenced folklore with science, searching for even the smallest thread of truth woven through centuries of legend.

He pulled together everything he thought would be useful for us to know. But even after all his research, even after countless hours spent dissecting old stories and fragmented knowledge, there was still so much we didn’t know. Because this wasn’t just a new discovery. It was the unraveling of something ancient, something hidden beneath the waves for longer than humans had been searching.

One thing, however, was certain.

Our new resident was only half human. And while we had yet to understand the full extent of his biology, there was no denying the truth Lenny had uncovered. He was, without a doubt, part of a species long spoken of in myths and whispered about in sailor’s tales.

A siren, part of a clan of merfolk. 

To my surprise, I found myself completely enraptured by what Lenny had uncovered—every piece of information another thread weaving together the mystery of Arthur. It wasn’t just what Lenny had learned that held my attention, but how much of it I had already seen firsthand. Arthur’s ability to breathe both on land and in water, his dual hearts working in tandem to circulate blood through his gills and body, the mesmerizing bioluminescence that pulsed beneath his skin—things I had experienced up close but hadn’t fully understood.

Then Lenny mentioned something that made my breath hitch. The scale colors and patterns, he explained, weren't universal amongst all sirens. It was specific to certain demographics, a unique adaptation belonging only to particular species. That revelation sent my mind racing—where exactly did Arthur come from? What did that make him? How rare was he, even among his own kind?

And then came the detail that sent murmurs rippling through the room.

“From everything I’ve been able to piece together,” Lenny said, flipping through his notes, “it appears that sirens, at least most—are naturally intersex. Meaning they can reproduce in more than one way.”

Lenny turned the whiteboard around, revealing detailed diagrams and scattered notes. As the board came into view, my breath caught in my throat—this wasn’t just a casual briefing; this was an entire body of research, as if he’d been putting together a puzzle with pieces that shouldn’t fit, but somehow did.

I heard the sharp intake of breath from a few people, the hushed whispers as some struggled to process it. As if that, of all things, was the strangest part about him. I had to bite my tongue to keep from rolling my eyes. They were still trying to grasp the enormity of what was being thrown at them, still coming to terms with the fact that a living, breathing myth was swimming in our tank.

I, on the other hand, had already had the privilege of knowing him—of seeing the depth in those ocean-blue eyes, of hearing the warmth in his voice, of feeling the raw vulnerability he had only ever shown to me. Arthur was so much more than the sum of his strange and wondrous biology.

“Alright, let’s go over the basics,” Lenny began, his voice steady and matter-of-fact, the excitement still hanging in his words. “First, we’ve confirmed that Arthur’s anatomy fits the general description of sirens from several ancient texts and reports. We’ve got a few key details that we still don’t fully understand, but we’re working on it. As long as he’s willing to work with us.”

He pointed to the large diagram of a siren’s anatomy. There were labeled sections showing gills, heart chambers, and the unique structure of their reproductive organs. “As you can see here,” he said, “sirens generally have two penises—yes, two—and they can use them in different ways depending on the situation. One for reproduction, and one that’s used in mating displays, though it’s not entirely clear what triggers which.” He glanced up at the room, letting the words sink in before moving on.

This revelation earned a sarcastic remark from our diver, Sean—delivered with his usual smirk—only for him to be swiftly silenced by a sharp swat from his wife, Karen, our ever-graceful receptionist and greeter. With a pointed look that spoke volumes, she reminded him to keep his quips in check.

I could feel my pulse quicken as I processed the information, knowing this was only the beginning. It wasn’t until he pointed to a section labeled ‘Egg Carrying’ that I felt a chill run down my spine. 

“Here’s where it gets interesting,” Lenny continued. “Sirens aren’t exactly mammals. They carry eggs internally, which is how they produce offspring. But given Arthur’s half-human biology, this part of his anatomy is still unconfirmed. We can’t say for sure if he has the ability to reproduce the same way. Though, judging by some traits in the more traditional sirens, it’s entirely possible.”

Lenny uncapped his marker and circled a spot near the siren diagram’s abdomen, where a uterus would typically be. “This is where the eggs are carried, and according to some texts, if they aren’t fertilized during the mating period, the body expels them.” He hesitated for a moment, glancing around the room before adding, “So, uh… basically, they have a menstrual cycle.” 

Holy shit. Maybe Arthur and I were more alike than I had ever realized.

The revelation hit me like a tidal wave, dragging me under as my thoughts spiraled. Arthur had told me about his son, but he had spared the details of how he came to be. I had assumed self-fertilization, a clinical, detached process—something he had endured without much choice. But now, hearing that sirens could carry eggs internally, my perception shifted.

Had his body gone through the slow, grueling process of carrying life? Or was it something entirely different, something beyond human comprehension? Did he suffer through the same hormonal shifts, the same aches and exhaustion? Did he experience cramps? Did he bleed? What do siren eggs even look like? Or siren babies? 

I was morbidly fascinated by all of it.

But the more I tried to piece it together, the deeper my sympathy for him grew. Reproduction, no matter the species, was taxing—sometimes dangerous, even fatal. And Arthur had done it alone. No support. No comfort. No one to share the weight of it. I swallowed hard, my chest tightening with something heavy and familiar.

What else had he endured in silence?

The more I learned, the more I was filled with unanswered questions and layers of suffering that were beyond my comprehension. My heart ached for Arthur, for the pain he had carried alone and the weight of everything he still bore.

“Now,” he said, tapping the board with a marker. “I want to talk about courtship before we get to the main event. This part is particularly fascinating.” He turned back to the diagram, showing what looked like faint patterns across the skin that followed the nervous system. “This bioluminescence plays a huge part in their mating rituals. It’s used to signal attraction and readiness, much like a bird flashing its feathers. And the patterns and brightness can change based on mood, emotions, or desire.”

I thought back to Arthur, the way his lights had flickered when he was near me, when I touched him, how they pulsed in time with his heartbeat. My breath caught in my throat. He hadn’t just been reacting to the environment—

He’d been reacting to me.

“Then there’s the purring,” Lenny added, tapping the board again on the chest region of his diagram. “Sirens, like most marine creatures, have a complex system of vocalizations, but purring in this context isn’t just a sign of contentment. It’s also an expression of affection, a way of signaling comfort and safety. It seems to be most common in pairs who are actively courting. The sound can be low, almost subsonic, and is used to build intimacy and trust.”

I thought back to the moments when Arthur’s purring reverberated in the water, the sensation so deep and primal it sent a shiver through me, like a current running beneath my skin. I could still feel it, the vibrating hum, echoing in my chest, stirring something inside me. 

Had I truly made him feel safe enough to express it? The thought warmed my heart. But then again, how much of it had been instinctual? Had I been too naïve to recognize the signs?

Gods, everything I had found so utterly fascinating, so enchanting about him, turned out to be a part of a mating ritual. My heart twisted as I realized how blind I had been. He’d told me—Arthur had literally told me—that he was struggling to control his lights, that it was mating season for him, that his body was flooding with hormones and urges he was trying so desperately to tame. 

I felt like an idiot. I should have put the pieces together sooner. Instead, I had been mesmerized by his allure, consumed by an attraction that now seemed to carry so much more weight than I had ever fully understood.

“Finally,” Lenny said, his voice softening, pulling me from my thoughts. “There’s the tradition of gift-giving.”

I felt a pair of eyes burning into me, and when I glanced around the room, I saw Charles standing by the door. He was leaning casually against the frame, as if he was still absorbed in Lenny’s lesson, but his eyes—those warm, steady eyes—were fixed directly on me. 

Heat crept up my neck and flooded my cheeks as I met his gaze, and I could feel the weight of everything unspoken between us. The things we hadn’t addressed, the unacknowledged tension. Charles had seen it all—he had witnessed the way Arthur’s lights had flickered with intensity when he was losing control in the exam room. And more than that, he had seen the way Arthur responded to me, to my touch. 

The connection that neither of us had been able to fully understand or express.

It felt like there was something unsaid hanging in the air, a heaviness that pressed down on my chest, suffocating in its silence. I didn’t know if he was concerned, or if it was something else—something neither of us wanted to confront. I couldn’t deny the pull I felt toward Arthur, nor the conflicting emotions that surged through me every time I thought of him. 

But having Charles watch me like this, with that knowing look in his eyes, made it feel like there was nowhere for me to hide this secret. 

And that scared me more than I cared to admit.

“In many of the texts, siren culture places a lot of emphasis on actions rather than words. Since most typically aren't capable of human speech. Giving an offering is their way of accepting courtship, of sharing mutual desire. Letting their partner know they wish to mate.” 

The abalone shell. 

I had found it yesterday at Clemens Cove with Charles, sharing the familiar rhythm of one of our walks along the beach. Grounding me in a moment of comfort amidst uncertainty. But when I picked it up, something in me shifted. It reminded me of Arthur. I wanted to give it to him as a peace offering, an apology for what had transpired between us. 

The words had slipped out before I even had time to question them.

Charles had been there when I found it, and when I told him my intention, his eyes never left mine. His silence spoke volumes, and I realized then that I had made things more complicated than I intended. Without another word, I knew I had dug myself into a deep grave—one that would be harder to climb out of than I ever imagined.

* ‧̍̊˙· 𓆝.° ｡˚𓆛˚｡ °.𓆞 ·˙‧̍̊ *

The room erupted in a flood of chaos the moment Lenny opened the floor for questions.

“I mean, this is absolutely insane,” Mary-Beth breathed, practically vibrating in her seat. “But c’mon guys…a real siren, here? Like, in our facility? This is history in the making! We could be famous for this discovery! I can’t wait to see him in person, when do we get to meet him!?”

“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves,” Tilly interjected, her expression thoughtful as she tapped her pen against her notebook. “I want to know more about his biology. How much of him is human, and how much is—well, not?” She scribbled something onto the page, “we don’t even know where he comes from. What he’s capable of.” 

Mary-Beth and Tilly were part of the same internship program as Lenny, fresh-faced college students eager to make their mark in the marine biology world. Their primary focus was in the nursery, caring for orphaned animals and tending to eggs that had been abandoned or rescued. While their work was vastly different from mine, their passion for marine life was undeniable. 

Mary-Beth, ever the optimist, had an almost childlike wonder for every creature she encountered—she fell in love with every baby animal that came through our doors and had a tendency to get attached to them before we could even determine if they’d stay.

Tilly, on the other hand, was more analytical, fascinated by behavioral psychology and genetics. While Mary-Beth was eager to meet Arthur, Tilly was more intrigued by what made him tick. I could already see the gears turning in her mind as she scraped her pen against her notebook, likely running through all the questions she wanted to ask, theories she wanted to test. If anyone in this facility was going to deep-dive into his instincts, it was her.

Across the table, Kieran shifted uncomfortably in his seat, rubbing the back of his neck. “Yeah, uh—hate to be the one to ask, but, is he…dangerous?” His voice was quieter than the rest, but the weight of the question settled over the group like a net. “I mean, I know we’re all excited, but the guy’s got sharp claws and even sharper teeth. And from what I’ve heard he’s big. Do we know exactly what we’re dealing with here?”

“Big’s an understatement,” Sean chimed in, leaning back in his chair with an easy grin. “Lad’s probably built like a goddamn shipwreck with a grudge. No offense, but if he decides he don’t like us, we’re all just chum in the water.”

Kieran was the facility’s fisherman, a quiet and steady presence who kept our patients well-fed. Whether he was out on his boat catching fresh fish himself or working with local fisheries to secure a steady supply, he took pride in his work and ensured that every animal in our care had exactly what they needed to thrive. He wasn’t much of a talker, often preferring the solitude of the open water to the chatter of the breakroom, but when he did speak, it was always with careful consideration. 

His concern now was understandable—he had seen firsthand what some of our more predatory rescues were capable of, and Arthur was unlike anything we had ever encountered.

Sean, on the other hand, was Kieran’s polar opposite. As the facility’s diver, he spent most of his time underwater, handling cleanings, repairs, and the occasional rescue operation. He also had a flair for showmanship, leading live demonstrations where visitors could watch him feed the larger fish up close. While Kieran kept his worries close to his chest, Sean wasn’t afraid to voice his own—with a sharp tongue and a grin that often landed him in trouble. He had never met a situation he couldn’t joke his way out of, but there was an edge to his words now, an undercurrent of truth beneath the humor.

“Sean.” Karen shot her husband a pointed look, swatting his arm. “You’re not helping.”

He smirked but held up his hands in surrender. “I’m just sayin’! You all saw those diagrams—two hearts, sharp teeth, glowing like the bloody deep sea. Fascinatin’ sure, but let’s not pretend we aren’t one bad day away from a Discovery Channel special.”

Karen was essentially the glue that held this facility together. Officially, she was the receptionist and greeter, the first warm smile visitors saw when they walked through our doors. But in reality, she was so much more than that. She handled everything from scheduling meetings and coordinating tours to reaching out to local news outlets to spread the word about our latest rescues. She even ran the facility’s social media accounts, curating updates and behind-the-scenes glimpses that helped connect our work to the outside world.

She was a force to be reckoned with. With a sharp mind and an even sharper tongue, especially when it came to keeping Sean in line. While her husband had a tendency to run his mouth, Karen had mastered the art of keeping him just reined in enough to avoid disaster—most of the time. Even now, as Sean leaned back in his chair with a smirk, adding fuel to the fire of Kieran’s concerns, Karen was the one to keep things balanced.

Karen rolled her eyes before turning back to Lenny. “Okay, but seriously—what does he eat? Is Kieran gonna have to go out there and wrestle a shark for him or what?”

Kieran paled. “W-wait, what?”

The room roared with voices once again, each one trying to speak over the other. 

“Nobody’s going to be feeding him any sharks,” The room quieted as Charles' steady voice cut through the noise, silencing the lingering tension in the air. Kieran relaxed, exhaling slowly as the weight of his concerns seemed to lift. Charles gave a small nod, as if reassuring him and everyone else in the room.

“As for his behavior and temperament,” he continued, gaze sweeping over the group, “there’s still a lot we don’t know. He could be dangerous, but so far he’s given us no reason to believe he wants to cause any harm.”

There was a brief pause, and then Charles turned to face me, his eyes locking with mine. I blinked, a sudden wave of unease crashing over me.

“And as for the interaction we’ve been having with him,” he followed with my name, his voice now directed at me. “You seem to be the only one he trusts right now. How is he responding to you? Have you seen any signs of aggression that we need to be aware of?”

I froze. What the fuck, Charles?

The question hit me like a jolt of electricity, and for a split second, I was completely blindsided. I hadn’t prepared for this—not in the slightest. The thought of speaking to the entire team about my interactions with Arthur hadn’t even crossed my mind. They hadn’t told me I would be briefing everyone on the strange, quiet bond I was forming with him. 

Was he asking about his outburst from last night? How was I even supposed to answer this? What could I possibly say without overstepping, without sounding...too involved?

The room seemed to tilt just slightly as all eyes turned toward me. I could feel the weight of their stares like a physical force, pressing down on me, and my throat constricted, making it harder to breathe.

Was Charles expecting me to share everything? To expose every detail of what had happened between Arthur and me? Did he want me to explain how Arthur had only seemed to trust me, how he responded to my voice with such... desperate hope? How he allowed me to touch him without flinching, like my hands had some kind of soothing magic he hadn’t known before? The thought of explaining those moments—the raw, intimate pieces of his existence that I was now learning to navigate—made me freeze even further. 

I wasn't ready to voice all this out loud in front of everyone.

My heart hammered against my ribs as I fumbled for the right words, the right tone. I wanted to be honest, to tell them what I had seen—but how much should I reveal? How much was too much? I hadn’t fully processed how much Arthur’s behavior affected me, how much his actions had been stirring something deep inside my heart. It wasn’t just about him being a ‘new species’—it was about the trust he had shown me despite everything he’d been through.

Taking a steadying breath, I finally spoke, “Well for starters, his name is Arthur. And he is…unique. But from what I’ve seen, he’s not acting out of malice. He’s more… confused, conflicted—hurting.” I explained, finding my voice.  

“He’s very slow to trust. There have been moments when he’s unsure of himself, especially when he’s around others or feels vulnerable. But there’s been no violence. I think we just need to give him time to adjust. To get to know us.”

I swallowed hard, my words feeling like they came from somewhere deeper than I had expected. “Arthur’s not a threat—at least not in the way we’re worried about. But he’s struggling, he’s running from something I’m still only beginning to understand. And I think...I think he’s just looking for a place to belong. There is humanity in him, and despite his looks he is deeply gentle. But he’s smart too, he feels things like any person would.”

“He’s got a smart mouth, that’s for sure,” John quipped with a grin, his sarcastic remark helping to ease some of my nerves. It was a relief to know I wasn’t the only one starting to grow fond of Arthur, that I wasn’t alone in building trust and a sense of friendship with him.

“He’s been held in captivity for so long, and hurt by some really bad people.” I continued, my gaze shifting between Hosea and Sadie. “Arthur’s truly something magnificent, and I hope you all get a chance to bond with him. But right now, he needs us to pull it together to keep him safe.” 

I glanced around the room, meeting their gazes, trying to convey the sincerity of my words. There was a long silence before Charles nodded, his expression thoughtful but unreadable. He had a way of making you feel like you were being examined, dissected, even when he wasn’t saying anything at all.

“Thank you for that assessment,” he said finally, his voice softer. “We’ll take that into account moving forward. But keep us updated, alright? We can’t afford to overlook anything, not with all the unknowns.”

I nodded, grateful for his understanding, but still feeling the heavy responsibility weighing on me. I had to keep walking that fine line, between what was right for the team and what was right for Arthur—and for myself.

* ‧̍̊˙· 𓆝.° ｡˚𓆛˚｡ °.𓆞 ·˙‧̍̊ *

After Lenny stumbled through his answers to the team’s questions, trying his best to keep up with their curiosity and concern, it became clear that the facility couldn’t stay in limbo forever. Visitors were scheduled to arrive, and life needed to continue—so, everyone else returned to their duties, getting back to the normal rhythm of their work. Except for us.

We had to be careful about what we shared. The details of Arthur’s healing ability were kept under wraps for now, and we omitted the specifics about the man and group of scientists who had exploited and tortured him. It was already a lot for the team to process, and we didn’t need to send them into a full-blown panic before we had a better grasp on everything ourselves.

Sadie paced the room, her boots echoing in the quiet as she mentally ran through the details she’d gathered. Every fact and piece of evidence was a thread she was pulling together to form a clearer picture. She wasn’t one to speak lightly when it came to her investigations, and she needed to be thorough. 

With a glance to the others—Hosea, John, Charles, and myself—she cleared her throat before continuing.

“I’ve dug into Dutch Van der Linde’s background. And let me tell you, he’s a slippery one. This man knows how to cover his tracks.” She paused for a beat, letting that sink in. “Most of what I’ve managed to dig up is several years old, but it paints a clear picture. Last we heard of him was out of a place called Blackwater. Authorities got a tip that he was running some kind of laboratory. A facility that used a lot of saltwater and electricity.”

Her gaze hardened, lips pressing into a tight line. “Now, you know as well as I do what that means when it comes to wildlife—hell, any kind of life. He was holding aquatic animals in conditions that were, to put it plainly, illegal. Overcrowded tanks, improper filtration, and not a single care about environmental regulations. One can only imagine how bad it got.”

I felt my stomach churn with nausea, the image of Arthur in those conditions was too much to bear.

Sadie went on, her voice sharp and focused. “Things went south in that lab. I can’t say for sure what exactly happened, but from what I’ve gathered, it was bad enough that people died. Authorities found broken glass, empty tanks, signs of a hasty cover-up. It looked like some kind of accident at first. But Dutch? He covered his tracks, moved his operation, and disappeared without a trace.” 

She gave us a hard look. “We don’t know where he’s gone since, but one thing’s for sure—he’s not someone who’s gonna stop just because we’re onto him now.”

The room hung in tense silence, the weight of Sadie’s words settling over us like a thick fog. She laid out the stark reality of our situation, outlining the two paths we were facing. One was the faint hope that Dutch might just disappear—forget about Arthur and move on to exploit another poor creature, leaving us to breathe easy. 

But the second option, the one that seemed far more likely given everything Arthur had shared about him, was more sinister. Dutch wouldn’t stop until he found Arthur, until he took back what he believed he had a right to possess.

“I’ve got my people keeping their eyes open,” Sadie continued, her tone steady, but her gaze never wavering from us. “But for now, you need to keep quiet about your new resident. Word travels fast, and the last thing we need is for this to reach the wrong ears.”

Hosea nodded, his face thoughtful. “Thank you for doing this, Sadie. We’re taking a great risk here, but it eases my mind to know you’re on our side.”

Sadie offered a polite smile, but before she could speak again, John abruptly stood up from his chair, his frustration boiling over. “So that’s it? We’re just supposed to sit here like sitting ducks, waiting for this psychopath to show up and demand his so-called pet back?” His voice was sharp.

Hosea, ever the calm mediator, began to speak, but John cut him off. His eyes flashed with a fire that came from more than just frustration—there was something raw and deeply personal in his voice. “I’m serious. What the hell do we do if this guy shows up at our doorstep? Are we supposed to just call PETA and have him tried for animal cruelty? Is Arthur supposed to testify in a court? Come on, what’s the plan here? Where exactly do we stand in this? I need to understand how your people will stop this from happening.”

His words echoed in the room, hitting each of us in a different way. For a moment, I felt the same heat in my chest, the urgency in John's voice igniting a similar fire in me. This wasn’t just about Arthur—his presence put everyone at risk. We were faced with a man who had no conscience, no moral compass, just an insatiable need to control and exploit.

I could see the tension in John’s stance, the way his hands gripped the back of his chair as if holding on to something solid. He wasn’t the type to back down, and I couldn’t help but admire his unwavering commitment to justice—even if it was the kind that burned with reckless abandon. I had no doubt that we would all fight, but the road ahead was far from clear.

Hosea sighed deeply, his voice steady but laced with the weight of everything he knew was at stake. “John’s right to be worried. We’re not equipped to handle this kind of threat. We don’t have the resources or manpower to go toe-to-toe with someone like Dutch. We’re a small facility, and this isn’t something any of us are used to. But we’ll figure it out. I’ll be damned if that poor boy has to suffer any longer” His gaze shifted to me, a silent understanding passing between us. 

We both understood how much was on the line.

Sadie nodded, her expression softening but never losing its edge of professionalism. “I get it, Hosea. Believe me, I do. But sometimes, the best we can do is wait and watch, be prepared for when he shows up. I’m putting feelers out there—keeping an eye on the local networks, my contacts in the field. But Dutch is a ghost. He’s good at disappearing when he wants to. We can’t go running around in circles panicking until we have something concrete.”

I couldn’t keep quiet any longer. “So you’re saying we just… wait? And pray he doesn’t come after Arthur?” My voice cracked slightly, but I didn’t care. “What happens if he does show up? We can’t just give up and let Dutch take him.”

Sadie’s eyes softened with something akin to sympathy, but her face remained hard with resolve. “You’re not wrong.” She paused, glancing at the others in the room, her eyes lingering on me for a moment longer. “What I can promise you is this—if Dutch comes for Arthur, if he makes a move, I’ll be here. We’ll all be here. You won’t be facing this alone.”

Hosea placed a hand on the table, leaning into it slightly, his voice firm. “We can’t risk making any rash decisions. Arthur's safety is our priority, we’ll keep him under wraps for now, and gather more information. As much as I hate waiting, it’s what we have to do. For his well being—and for ours.”

I nodded slowly, absorbing their words. I understood what they were trying to say. They were trying to protect Arthur in the only way they knew how. But there was still that gnawing feeling in my gut, the fear that Dutch might already be closer than we realized.

"Alright," I said, standing up from my seat. "But when the time comes, we act. No hesitation. We make sure that when Dutch shows up, we’re ready for him." The words felt strange in my mouth, but they were the truth. 

“I made a promise to Arthur that he would never endure that kind of suffering again. And I will do whatever it takes to ensure that promise is kept.”

Sadie looked at me for a long moment before nodding, her expression tight with conviction "Undertsood."

* ‧̍̊˙· 𓆝.° ｡˚𓆛˚｡ °.𓆞 ·˙‧̍̊ *

As the last of the visitors trickled out and the automatic doors slid shut, a familiar exhaustion settled deep in my bones. But it wasn’t the same kind of exhaustion that had weighed me down in recent days. This was different—earned through hard work, the kind that came with purpose. A full day of routine tasks, keeping my hands busy, my mind occupied. And for what felt like the first time in days, my thoughts weren’t consumed by Arthur.

I moved through the motions—wiping down counters, locking up equipment, double-checking protocols—before making my way to the break room. My locker door creaked open, and as I grabbed my things, I fished my phone from my pocket. My fingers hovered over the screen for only a moment before I typed in one word.

Captain.

The familiar text thread popped to the top of my messages, and without hesitation, I typed:

Charles, we need to talk.

I hit send, pulling on my jacket and slinging my bag over my shoulder. I already knew where he was—likely in his office, finishing up for the night. So I waited, taking my time as I walked. My phone buzzed in my hand.

Meet in the tunnel? ~CS

A quiet sigh left my lips as I read the message. The tunnel. Of course.

Easily one of the most breathtaking parts of the facility, the tunnel was a curved, glass-walled corridor where guests could walk beneath the water. The sea life surrounded them on all sides, illuminated by the soft glow of artificial reef structures designed to mimic the ocean floor. Stingrays glided like silent phantoms through the currents, schools of fish shimmered in the dim light, and for a moment, stepping inside felt like being transported to another world.

See you there.

I tucked my phone away and started down the hall, feeling the weight of the conversation ahead settling on my shoulders.

Charles stood with an easy sort of stillness, hands tucked into his pockets, eyes trained on the glass where a pair of clownfish darted in and out of a pink anemone. The soft glow of the tunnel lights cast a faint shimmer against the water, reflecting off the corals in a wash of muted color. At the sound of my approaching footsteps, he turned slightly, his face lighting up with a small, familiar smile before his gaze flickered back to the fish.

“Did you know female clownfish leave the nest after they mate and lay their eggs? The male stays behind to guard them until they hatch,” he mused, his voice carrying the weight of thought rather than idle conversation. His eyes never left the tiny creatures, but I could tell his mind was somewhere else. Drifting beyond the glass, beyond the tunnel, caught in some invisible current of contemplation. “Sometimes I wonder what the advantage is in her leaving. Surely they’d be better off as a pair, keeping the young safe together.”

I stepped up beside him, folding my arms as I watched the fish weave through the anemone’s swaying tendrils, completely immune to its stinging nematocyst defenses.

“Well,” I started, mirroring his thoughtful tone, “maybe she just wasn’t ready for it. Eitherway, clownfish can change their sex. So—I guess if he really wanted to, he could become female and go find a new mate. Start over. Do things better than his traitorous ex-partner.”

A short chuckle left Charles’ lips, but there was something wry about it. “Until something bigger comes along and makes a meal out of them both.”

I smirked, though my chest felt heavy. “Ah, the circle of life. Beautiful, isn’t it?”

The words hung between us, lighthearted in tone but laced with something heavier, unspoken. Beneath the easy rhythm of our banter, something churned beneath the surface. Something neither of us were quite ready to say out loud.

We stood there in silence, the glow of the water casting shifting patterns across the floor, before I finally gave in to the question that had been gnawing at me all day.

“Charles, why’d you throw me into the flames like that during the meeting?”

His brow furrowed, caught off guard. “I—what? What are you talking about?”

“Don’t be like that, you know what I’m talking about.” I sighed and dropped onto one of the viewing benches, rubbing my temples. “I already hate public speaking, and no one told me I’d have to stand up there and explain myself. I mean…I’ve hardly wrapped my head around this, Charles! I thought we were just there to go over the basics, get everyone up to speed on the whole… situation.” I waved a hand vaguely through the air, but we both knew exactly what I meant.

Charles hesitated for a fraction of a second, then shrugged. “You were there when he was found, you were there when I removed the harpoon tip. If anyone’s qualified to speak on this, it’s you.” He paused, then added, “Besides, you seem to be getting along pretty well with him.”

It wasn’t just a passing observation or a simple truth—I knew him better than that. He made a point to say it, not just to me, but to the entire team.

I let out a scoff, shaking my head. “So that’s why you called me out? Because I’ve been trying to be a friend to him?”

Charles turned to face me fully now, his expression unreadable but sharp with something I couldn’t quite place. “I wanted to remind you that it’s dangerous. We still have no idea what that thing’s capable of.”

A slow, seething heat crept up my neck. “Thing?”

His jaw tensed. “You know what I meant.”

“Do I?” My voice was quiet, but there was a bite to it. A challenge.

He didn’t back down. “He’s been here less than two days, and you look at him like—”

“Like he’s a damn person, Charles,” I cut him off, standing now, anger pushing me to my feet. “Not a thing, not a monster, not something dangerous. What’s dangerous is the people who captured him and tortured him for his entire life.” My breath was coming too fast, but I couldn’t stop. “Arthur has known nothing but pain and loneliness. If it’s against policy to make our patients feel safe, then call Hosea and tell him to fire me.”

Charles exhaled sharply, dragging a hand through his hair, frustration etched into every line of his face. But beneath it—beneath the argument, beneath the fear and the worry—I saw it.

He meant well. And that was the most infuriating part.

“You think I don’t understand that?” Charles shot back, his voice tight with restraint. “You think I don’t see what’s been done to him? What he’s been through?” He took a step closer, his tone lowering, but no less intense. “I do. And that’s exactly why I’m worried.”

I opened my mouth to argue, but he wasn’t done.

“You’re not just some observer in all of this—you’re in deep, deeper than you even realize,” Charles said, his voice heavy with something between frustration and concern. “I know your heart is in the right place, but damn it, you can’t act like you’re the only one who cares.” He ran a hand through his hair, exhaling sharply as though struggling to rein in emotions he wasn’t ready to share. “I’m not telling you what to do, but I need you to see the bigger picture. I know you feel something for him, but this—this is far bigger than that.”

I opened my mouth to argue, but his words hung in the air, leaving me frozen. The weight of his tone cut deeper than I expected, and for the first time in a while, I wasn’t sure what to say. I had been so caught up in my own emotions, my own frustration, that I hadn’t stopped to see his.

“W-what feelings?” I stammered, feeling like I was losing ground. The way he looked at me—the understanding, the depth—made me feel exposed. Those brown eyes, usually warm, now felt like they were peeling back layers I didn’t want to confront.

Charles sighed, almost tenderly, as though he’d known this would be difficult. “You think I don’t know your heart? Know that look?” His voice softened as he said my name, but the words were weighted with something older, more painful. “I know you. And whether you like it or not, I care about you more than that damn fish. I just don’t want to see you get hurt.”

The sincerity in his voice hit me harder than I expected, the raw emotion underlying his words pulling at something inside me. His care, his concern—they were clear, and I could no longer pretend they didn’t matter.

Gathering his things, Charles turned to leave, his footsteps echoing faintly in the tunnel. "Just promise me you’ll be cautious about this. And if anything, anything happens that frightens you, you come to me about it first. Okay?" His words lingered in the air, heavy and unspoken.

I nodded without thinking, not sure if I meant it or if I was just too exhausted to argue anymore. As the door to the tunnel closed behind him, I leaned back on the bench, my eyes drifting to the vast tank before me. The room felt suddenly colder, emptier, and I let out a slow breath, closing my eyes. 

The weight of everything—Charles’ warnings, my own confusion, Arthur’s presence—settled on my shoulders.

When I opened my eyes again, the room had darkened, a large shadow casting itself across the walls like the slow approach of a storm. Lifting my head, my breath caught in my throat as I saw him—Arthur—watching me just beyond the glass. 

The world came to a standstill as I took in the sight of him, an otherworldly presence that seemed to dominate the space. He hovered there, still and silent, his powerful form fully illuminated by the dying light of the setting sun. 

Beautiful didn’t even begin to describe him. 

His body glistened in the dimming glow, long hair rippling ever so slightly with the water’s motion. The vibrant colors of his tail were like nothing I had ever seen before—rich blues and purples that shimmered against the darker water, pulsing with life that gave him the appearance of a phantom rising from the depths. 

Arthur was the water, and the water was him. Like he was born to be exactly this, fierce and indescribable. Gills and fins delicately waving with each movement of the current, floating upright. He spanned almost the entire length of the glass, and seeing him like this I realized just how small and insignificant I was in comparison. 

He is the ocean. 

The golden orange light from the sun filtered through the water, casting an ethereal glow that made his form appear almost heavenly, like something from a legend. The intricate patterns of his scales caught the light, transforming him into a figure of pure elegance and power. 

The glass between us felt like a thin barrier between two worlds. One human and one far beyond my understanding.

My heart raced as I sat there, rooted to the spot. His deep blue eyes, so full of life and yet so distant, never left mine. They spoke of something ancient, something vast, and in that moment, it was as if the entire world had narrowed down to just him and me. 

His pull, my need, and everything unknown between us—pressed down on me like the ocean itself.

AN: Big shoutout to @photo1030 for giving me some devious ideas about Charles and the reader having a romantic history. I knew I wanted him to play a bigger role in this, but now I’m fully invested in him having some conflicted feelings about Arthur and the reader. Let me know what you guys think!

Oh! Also, I hope the egg-menses/double-dick thing isn’t too weird for some folks. It’s typical in a monster romance to have odd genitalia and means of reproducing. In my humble opinion, it’s what makes it so intriguing to read (and write!) As a biologist, I relate to the reader a lot, I too am morbidly fasciated by the limits of science.

We’ll see our sweet fish boy again in the next chapter, got some really sweet/hot scenes cooking 😋

[sunderingstars]

simulated universe addendum: ace trash digger

— i can’t believe i came across this occurrence literally the day after i posted my simulated universe analysis (talk about timing), so here’s me yapping about it!

— written during 2.6

— word count: short, list format

not only is this occurrence in every single simulated universe update (wow!) but it seems to be a more belobog-connected piece of potential sampo material!

— “he” pronouns. matches with sampo koski as we know him.

— he’s carrying a trashcan and the name of the occurence is “ace trash digger.” this is a pretty easy link to belobog since that’s the planet that has the most trashcan-related shenanigans. also, since he’s carrying it i can almost see the trashcan as symbolic of belobog itself — i.e. sampo and his little garbage planet he cares about and likes to carry around.

— “treasured trashcan.” once again, i can pretty easily see the trashcan as belobog, so the occurrence might actually be referencing sampo and his “treasured jarilo-vi.”

— he has a collection of “pitiful love poems.” this could connect to sampo’s theme of love, particularly broken hearts, as seen in things like his e4 and heart-bomb burst. these love poems may be written to aha as part of some lingering attachment, or may also be written towards belobog itself since he seems to care about the place so much.

— “put your waste in it, and the items will evolve into an advanced awareness, then come running out energetically on their own!” if the trashcan is symbolic of belobog and the person is supposed to be sampo, i would take a doll theory reading on this. with how much doll theory relies on the “betrayal” of a creator towards its creation, i almost see this as meta commentary on how aha may have betrayed or “discarded” sampo.

— it makes sense, after all, that aha would get bored with their creations quite easily (at least given the whole worm debacle), and what else to do than to discard it? it may be that sampo was not always like this, but evolved to become more “aware” after being abandoned on jarilo-vi, which aha may have seen as just some backwater junkyard snow planet.

— (honestly, the idea of jarilo-vi being seen as a cosmic junkyard is so funny to me. like, aha basically did the equivalent of driving their pickup truck to the scrap heap at the edge of town and tossing everything in. very mundane to them, totally traumatizing to sampo.)

— from there, i would interpret this occurrence as saying sampo slowly rejoined the wider universe — i.e. “running out energetically” on his own. this likely included becoming part of the masked fools or trying to re-contact aha. (alternatively, this could be what is going on currently in canon, with belobog and, by extension, sampo, becoming more present on the galactic stage.) this may have actually surprised the aeon themself (if they even cared anymore), as it would essentially be the equivalent of throwing out a stuffed animal halfway across town, only for it to get up, walk, and find its way back to your house weeks later talking like “why have you forsaken me, father?”. this may even be how sampo became an emanator — aha may have found the whole situation so hilarious they decided to promote sampo on the spot.

— overall, if the trashcan is meant to be belobog and sampo is meant to be the waste (like “hazardous waste” in the friendship is magic event), then this occurrence may be hinting at sampo’s backstory of being discarded by aha on jarilo-vi.

— hunt option (swarm disaster). mean, why are we being so mean?! i would never steal from sampo, i’m simply built different.

— remembrance option (swarm disaster). “you recall the past lives of these discarded objects” implies a sort of sentience and agency. even though the objects may not be at “advanced awareness” yet, they clearly still have past experiences and lives. comparatively, i would say this may mean that sampo, although only recently evolving into a unique kind of sentience, has always been “alive.” for me, i see this as gaining personhood, or perhaps new perspectives on life. he may have started as a toy with no real agency of his own, but he’s been able to find some sort of autonomy for himself on belobog, even being able to reach beyond the love and find the “hate” for a creator who treated him cruelly.

— erudition option (gold and gears). erudition once again! man, erudition and elation love going hand-in-hand. “even trash has its unique ‘value’” seems to send a deeper, general message. not only is it the erudition doing what the erudition tends to do when confronted with something new — find its value, either through experimentation or dismantling — but it communicates the idea that even though something may be seen as worthless or forgotten, it still holds purpose. even though sampo may be seen in the eyes of his creator as a “discarded doll,” he still has value. he’s still a person. he still has his own hopes, thoughts, and dreams. although the erudition likely means this phrase in a more troublesome “let’s take him apart to see what he’s made of” way, a nice message can still be gleaned.

— normal option. as with all other options, there’s a big theme of “transaction,” or exchanging items for more. i don’t have a lot to say about it, other than it fits right in with sampo’s con-man trade and propensity for bargaining.

— i found it a bit surprising at first that there was no elation option, given how that would’ve been a more solid link to sampo, but perhaps there isn’t supposed to be. perhaps, aha stuffed toy having an elation option is meant to be symbolic of a time aha cared enough to turn their gaze of sampo, but here the occurrence is dealing with the period of and after his abandonment. in this case, there may be no elation option because aha quite simply does not care enough for there to be one. he’s all alone. sad :((

overall, i can’t believe this one almost slipped under my nose while doing my simulated universe analysis! the irony is not lost on me that i almost passed over it in a similar way to others in-universe; i guess the “cosmic junkyard” planet really did its job !! i think this has some nice little tidbits for the potential timeline of doll theory, and gives some insight into what sampo’s “betrayal” might have been! (also, of course aha would do something like this. of course lol)

thanks for reading!

© analysis by sunderingstars. do not copy, repost, translate, modify, or claim my work as your own.

[simslegacy5083]

Today's (11/12/2024) Episode: Vacation Vibes

As Noemi had told Isra, the family was taking one last trip together before their son became a “surly teenager”.

Skye gazed around at the landscape of the Batuu theme park in awe. “Wow! It really looks like we landed on another planet!”

Luigi jumped in: “It’s a real experience all right! But if you don’t mind, I really need to start with some “out of this world” food. Checking into The Dwelling took a long time and I’m beginning to get a nasty headache.” He pointed the way to the nearest food stall.

Skye hadn’t really been hungry, and the food certainly didn’t meet expectations. After watching her boys pick unhappily at their plates for a while, Noemi interjected: “Sorry our first meal on Battu wasn’t very tasty, but now that your Dad is fueled up, what does our birthday boy want to see next?”

“Riding in the spaceship sounds cool” Skye said after they talked over their options. “But is it safe? What if we crash?”

His parents assured him that the simulated adventure was perfectly safe, and all his reservations vanished. “OK, then I want to go fly!”

“Well, as a child you’re exempt from first time guest requirements and they reinstated our unfinished missions, so we should be good to go as soon as we collect some X-Wing parts” Noemi told him “How do you want to do this kiddo? We can trade for them, scrounge for scrap, or just buy them.”

Skye glanced at his dad before answering “SPACE junk? And we can really dig through it as much as we want?”

“Well, YOU two can” Luigi said with a shiver. At Noemi’s confused look he continued “I was never going to scrounge around in those filthy looking scrap heaps. I just didn’t end up having to tell you since we ran out of time and bought the parts last trip.”

Noemi rolled her eyes at her finnicky husband. “That’s fine, you can just shout emotional support from the sidelines while your son and I do all the work.”

After scrounging up the necessary supplies they headed over to the resistance camp to try another supply run. “Its great that they kept our progress and rank with the factions from our last visit.” Noemi said as they made their way to the aircraft. “Its going to save us so much time!” 

“Skye, this is Vi.” Luigi began by way of introduction when they reached the X-Wing “Vi, I’m sure you don’t remember us, but we flew with you on our honeymoon and now we’re back with our boy for his birthday. He’s looking forward to taking this old girl for a spin.”

“Oh, I remember you” Vi said, leaning in close and whispering “I’m a big fan.” Luigi grinned as she continued “So Skye, you think you can help your parents get my ship operational again? Your datapad will guide you and I’ll give you a hand if you get stuck.”

Skye nodded solemnly: “I’ll do my best.” He quickly got the hang of using the high-tech prop tools to “weld”, “align”, “crystallize”, “scour” and otherwise prepare enough components of Vi’s “old bucket of bolts” for the actor to declare them officially ready to take to the sky.

View The Full Story of My Not So Berry Challenge Here

[regretevator-headcanons]

based on the fact i found regretevator roleplays in da amazing bunker simulator,

here is what everyone would do in da bunker

Bive would be on the third floor working in the offices, maybe she'd go around delivering mail to all the NPCs, or maybe she'd be in the laboratory studying samples.

DrRETRO would also be in the laboratory, studying samples, since she is a doctor.

FleshCousins would replace the NPCs wandering around da bunker, especially the ones in the staff canteen. Since FleshCousins are already not sentient, it would sorta make sense it would be repeating the patterns of buying items, wheeling in bodies for the laboratory, etc...

Gnarpy would spend all xyr time in da 7/11 and down sodas (on the first floor). Endlessly. I don't know what makes me think xyr would, but I'm sure if given the option, xe would. Either that, or Gnarpy would spend a lot of xyr time in the staff canteen selling items to other NPCs.

Infected does not have a lot of options for fun in da bunker. At the very least, I think he would have fun with the events that take place and maybe buying suits, but otherwise I have no idea how else he would pass the time.

Spud! just based on the fact that there is a way to puke (from drinking a lot of soda) and you're able to mop it up, Spud! would hang out on floors one and two, play bingo and clean up puke. The only thing is, I think this might be a little overstimulating for him since there's a lot of loud noises, which could trigger his trauma response.

Lampert works as the lighting manager. He is the only person in da bunker capable of handling the lights. He also sometimes hangs out on floors four and five, and sometimes the vault of past seasonal items in floor 1, to look at his options. He probably collects suits/furniture.

Mannequin Mark feels like he'd be working as a builder in da bunker, similar to Wallter, though I think he'd be making items.

Pest likes money, that much is obvious. He'd spend a lot of time on floors five because there's da ticket land; there's a slot machine (obviously) as well as a blackjack room. I'd imagine he'd spend a lot of time there along with Bive. Also, since Pest is notable for using scrap, being able to make robots, I think he'd be the main repairman of da bunker.

Poob is here to have fun—to party, even—so he is often organizing the events and also proposing items to add to da bunker. His job may not sound fun, but it keeps the spirits high in da bunker.

Pilby's role is to, I'd imagine, sell suits. They're the suit shopkeeper. Poob often tries to drag them into helping plan events because they're just nice like that, though Pilby's ideas don't tend to pan out very well.

Prototype has a very important job of surveying the others to know their needs, and report to the people necessary to get those needs met, which mainly goes to Poob and Pest. Prototype also does everything at least once everyday, going to each floor and trying out each activity for the sake of it. Out of all the NPCs, he knows da bunker da best.

Reddy is the main form of entertainment at da bunker, mainly being the man behind the DJ booth. Yes, I made him da dj man.

Scag works as the ticketer in da ticket land, handing out daily credits, exchanging tickets, and giving people prizes. Obviously, she cannot walk because her wheels are glued to the floor, but that's neither here nor there.

Split works behind the desk at the bingo area, handing out bingo cards to others. Alternatively, as of writing, the April Fool's event (suit contest) is currently available, and I like to think Split is hosting that. She's already the host of her own show, so it's fitting that she also hosts events alongside Poob.

Spud! runs da 7/11. It's a nice hangout spot for some of the other NPCs and they find the familiarity of stocking shelves in a safe environment rather relaxing.

Unpleasant is absolutely useless.

Wallter strikes me as the type of guy that's building alongside Mannequin Mark, but since their preferences in materials are different, Wallter is the one patching up da bunker or making changes and expansions to it.

MRManueverer and MR work together on floor five, at da ticket land.

[spacetimewithstuartgary]

Managing space debris through space law

It's becoming increasingly crowded in the orbits around Earth that are popular for space travel. And that's not just due to satellites—there's also more waste material, which is compromising safety. Ph.D. candidate Zhuang Tian is conducting research into the legal aspects of discarded space equipment. Whoever leaves debris behind should take responsibility and clean it up.

In the near future, probes with robotic arms will be hovering in orbit. The arms will have four metal tentacles spread out like a spider's legs, ready to catch a discarded satellite where the probes maneuver minutely. It's one of the techniques the company ClearSpace is currently simulating—only on Earth for the time being.

Active debris removal

With his specialization in space law, legal expert Zhuang Tian is following these developments closely. He will shortly be defending his Ph.D. thesis on the legal aspects of space debris disposal. The specific focus of his research is how companies like ClearSpace and the Japanese company Astroscale are planning on actively removing debris, because there is another option: space equipment that removes itself after use by burning into the atmosphere. But as Tian explains, current satellites can't yet do that, hence the need for a collection service provided by private companies.

"Space agencies such as ESA could encourage the development of active debris removal (ADR) missions and their exploitation," he says.

Antisocial campers

As Tian explains following his Ph.D. research, space law is lagging behind, and so it's essential that clear rules and international agreements are put in place. He compares the behavior of countries that are the registered owners of discarded satellites with that of antisocial campers.

"You can compare it to a campsite littered with cans and plastic bottles. Of course, you could solve the problem technically by constantly removing the waste. But what works better is putting rules in place that inform campers about responsible behavior. I started investigating how space law encourages the countries and space agencies in question to clean up their space debris. Because even now, it's not clear to the states concerned that they're obliged to do this."

An international mechanism

Tian has encountered legal hurdles along the way. From a legal perspective, it appears to be risky for a state to clean up another state's scrap. Space equipment is the property of the state of registration, even if it has since been discarded. Those who start the cleanup process run the risk of a country, company or government organization holding the cleaner liable for damage to property.

"So currently, cleanup missions only focus on waste that is owned—or is at least allowed to be owned—by the cleaner," explains Tian. "There needs to be an international mechanism that makes it easier for countries and space agencies to request and grant permission."

A double-edged sword

Tian explains that another factor at play is that removal technology—such as the ClearSpace tentacles—have a dual-use nature. Every part of a spacecraft could potentially be used as a weapon in space, even if that was never the intention when it was designed. A peaceful clean-up process could cause misunderstandings.

Tian adds, "If you're able to grab space debris, you're also able to grab another vehicle or deliberately collide with it. If a country removes a discarded object that belongs to another state, that state might perceive it as a hostile act—even if the intentions were good."

Transparency surrounding missions

Tian examined the rules, guidelines and laws for responsible behavior that would prevent space debris removal from being perceived as a threat. He says, "Addressing concerns is more effective than setting technical requirements dictating that objects may not be used for war purposes. After all, in space you could use any piece of equipment for military purposes. That's why I also recommend transparency surrounding space missions."

An international hotline

He is pinning his hopes on soft law—instruments that are not legally binding and yet serve as guidelines for behavior and practices in space. While they are voluntary, they can make up for the gaps in the prescriptive articles found in space treaties. He advocates international guidelines for active space debris removal. He also says that countries could increase their commitment to multilateral and unilateral agreements. This would put pressure on commitments made by states to do something about the debris. The United Nations could make a more active effort to agree on rules for clarity and safety in the event of dual use.

It's also important that countries coordinate with each other on this—perhaps by setting up an international hotline that countries can use to register spacecraft in the event of imminent collisions.

Future generations

Tian wants to expand the law governing space debris removal, and in the future hopes to get a ticket for a trip into space if it's affordable. By then, the chance of collisions with space debris should have decreased.

"I'm positive about that—there's a strong common awareness about sustainable use of space in the future. That will also benefit future generations, as space travel is becoming increasingly important in our daily lives."

[trailshome]

Progress Update: 10/04/2023

Hello guy! Been a long time since I've done one of these or posted anything of substance (sorry) -- but I've decided I need to start doing these again. I'm hoping if I can set aside more time for TLH, Metanoia, Hollow, and a mysterious third thing, I'll be able to get updates out more frequently. So, I might have an update for you (which is good news!) but it's not chapter two (which is bad news...).

Chapter Two needs to be re-planned (but don't worry, it wasn't all scrapped!). I decided mid-way that I wasn't happy with the direction of it, and things in the game were happening too fast for my tastes. Don't worry though, I'll try to keep you guys posted as I progress through Chapter Two. I've also been juggling the idea of having a Patreon where I can post extra content and stream art and coding for my games. While I do have one made, it isn't published, and I don't want to post the link without having anything worthwhile to share. I've figured out all the details for it and will let you know what I've decided once there's a bit more to Chapter Two and Hollow.

Now then, the update!

I've essentially gone through and further fleshed out or removed some scenes that I felt hindered the story and/or prevented me from springboarding off of it properly into the chunk that needs to be written.

I know right now TLH is kinda of a 'Collection Simulator' where you can pick up a lot of things, but I promise it'll make sense later. Everything you collect, you collect for a reason and there are consequences to what you haven't taken and what you have. Chapter Two will show this and I hope you enjoy the 'little' interaction that comes from it!

I want to be super transparent and let you guys know that I haven't had a lot of time the last year for writing, and stress + depression made it hard to work on TLH. I wasn't enjoying it for a long time, but now I'm determined to really push forward because I do love TLH and I want to share it with people. I'm sorry again for how much I dropped the ball with updates and keeping you guys posted but I promise to try better from here on out.

Thank you to everyone who has stuck around so far and/or has expressed interest in my silly little game! It means the world to me and more! I hope to see you guys again soon, maybe by the end of this month (Halloween Update?!) with a small update as an apology!

Thank you and please stay safe out there! The world is wild and getting wilder!

[neojayink]

Splatoon Neo’s hero story updates:

Light spoilers for DLC SIDE ORDER below. (Speaking of the general story)

Brief story time of bts hero shenanigans.

I’ve recently finalized a few facets of how I’d want the story to play out for sneo. The story has been under a few revisions over the years but in the last six months I think I’ve landed on something quite cool. Took my time thinking of ideas for my story so that Splatoon 3 could run its course and so that I wouldn’t have any overlap with cannon to the point I’m telling their story twice. And after finishing the dlc I’m now going back to the drawing board on some details.

Not sure if I’ve ever specified how the world of sneo compares to the cannon world but the universe of sneo (the neoverse I like to call it nowadays) is like an alternate timeline in a new dimension. So both sneo and cannon exist at the same times. Even tho sneo is slightly more futuristic, time works differently in the neoverse and the entire first story takes place and ends just moments before Octo expansion and beyond as of right now. This may all be kind of complicated to drop so suddenly but I do plan to explain all the cool bits when I get to covering the story. This worlds version of alterna logs are called “think pieces,” small cards that hold the knowledge of everything that happens around the neoverse.

I’d like to take this opportunity to go over a few of Splatoon neo’s scrapped storylines. Starting off with the one most closest to the current Splatoon cannon story.

1: “Homecoming”

“In this version of sneo story 1 the hero will come across databanks that detail the specifics of the universe they reside in. A world created by a long gone scientist that hoped to store souls inside a super computer called the “LOTUS” so that one day when the earth heals itself after the incoming devastation humans can return with a fresh slate to try life again without destroying the planet. The Lotus will be tasked with monitoring the planet for the next spiritually awakened intelligent life form to rise and humanity will live on again.

Someone in the real world (cannon) finds out about this device and hacks their way into it to use the power contained for their own nefarious acts. They promise a group of Octolings a better life and a do-over if they fight for his cause. The Octolings were easily on board as their leader was power hungry and would do anything to claim more turf. Little did they know that they would be an army fighting against their own best interests. At the end the Octoling army would be helping destroy their original world to make space for the return of humanity. This entity would use this group of Octolings to start trouble that leads to another global extinction of intelligent life. This biomass would then be modified by the Lotus and edited to reassemble human dna from scratch. “

This iteration of the story looks similar to alterna when it comes to humanities last ditch effort to survive. This story had too much back and forth between realities so the newer story will be much more simple and contained. Think of the lotus as a super computer that can simulate realities. It’s also based on fusing nature and technology. The lotus is so powerful that it can spawn constructs from within itself to the outside world if it has all the necessary matter. The greater villain would’ve used this technology to create an octoling anomaly that would go on to destroy the earth and collect back human dna from inklings / Octolings. Another similarly to tartar using agent 3 as a host body to go about their plans. There was also a huge focus on dna and GMO. Genetically modified Octolings would be a threat of Octolings that turn themselves into “super soldiers” for their cost. (Kinda like how color pallets work in side order)

A digital world and humans returning. It hit both marks but this inspired me for the better to create something more focused and not trying to explain “what should come next for a Splatoon 3.” Honestly shocked how I could’ve guessed the cannon story but back then I tried to make my story more of a “Splatoon 3” before Splatoon 3 existed. But overall I’m just glad to see the devs explore ideas I’ve once wished for. Really like a dream come true and s3 has my second favorite story mode of them all after Octo ex. (Close ties between all 5 don’t judge)

2: “Out of order”

“The neoverse inkopolis was overrun by chaos so bad that there had to be crack downs on turf wars. An octoling army gladly took the job of enforcing rules and curfews to please city officials. They were hypocritical and broke the same rules they enforced but higher ups didn’t seem to care. The hero fellow neighborhood watch gear up to figure out what’s going on in this city. They end up finding back to back scars of corporate greed. The city is so nice and clean because all of its trash goes underground into less fortunate habitats.

The hero finds out that the leader of the octoling army was bribing higher ups so that they could slowly take over the city without force. This octoling leader was universally feared and didn’t need to use brain washing to get their way. But they needed saving too. As fearsome as she is, she wasn’t immune from fearsome control themself.”

This version of the story played into fear vs respect heavily. We’d see the villain scare the city into submission while she figures out how she will save it from the entity that is above her. She’s like a trojan horse to the world and she hides in the deep sea, away from civilization in case she fails her mission and is turned into a weapon of destruction. As harsh as she may seem, she’s only following orders to keep whatever peace there is left to be had.

A lot of aspects of this version will return. Took me months to create a backstory of the new villain but she will probably get a post just like this one explaining all her scrapped stories and evolution. I really can’t wait to introduce her.

To not bore yall too much we will end things here for now. Now that splat 3 is pretty much complete with story for now I’m feeling a lot more confident telling the story I’m crafting now. Can’t lie, telling the same story as the cannon was a big fear of mine so I just stalled until things came out.

Splatoon neo is still alive. Unfortunately nowadays I find myself just sketching away and making complete works a lot less as you can tell. Hope this was a cool update for dlc time. As the storyline gets confirmed for sure I will try to make more text posts about it even if there’s no drawing to come with. I do plan on covering hero mode with a lot of drawings and possible 3d work if the artblock gods will let me. Could even be a comic covering it all.

Also decided to share this last thing. Splatoon neo will have more than one story once the first once is finished. It will probably take over the name “cross contamination” from that one sketch and be a direct sequel. It’s only been thought of for about a month so far so it’s still to early to spill details but heres some concepts of the new species I will introduce called “exolings” for now and a mystery inkling who shows up. They’re very “alien”-like in nature.

[tabletoptrinketsbyjj]

Trinkets, Worthless, 11: These trinket are garbage plain and simple. They would be termed vendor trash or junk loot in video games. They aren’t touched by stray magic or mystery as with regular trinkets, aren’t made from valuable materials and aren’t particularly useful even if they aren’t damaged.

A cookie tin. Upon opening it, you discover that it’s full of sewing supplies.

A mildew ridden purse containing 15 copper pieces that have been battered, bent, chewed or otherwise mutilated.

A single, partially soiled piece of parchment with indiscreet scrawlings upon it.

A scrap of leather on which was penned a sonnet composed by a lacklustre poet.

A single note that says “I.O.U.” The handwriting is very sloppy.

A small wooden box that when first opened, is surprisingly full of spiders.

A wiry and crusty collection of what appears to be dried plant matter braided into many strands to simulate hair. It is perhaps the worst wig you’ve ever seen.

A tin ear with a hole through the middle. The back has three serrated pins, slightly wobbly, presumably meant to have connected it to a host's skull.

A perfectly rectangular orange.

A shortbow that was meant to ignite the arrows it fires. Unfortunately, the enchantment is so strong that it instantly disintegrates any arrow that is knocked and is completely unusable as a weapon.

—Click Here to be directed to the Hotlinks To All Tables post, which provides (As you might have guessed) convenient links to all of the loot and resource tables this blog has.

—Note: The previous 10 items are repeated for easier rolling on a d100.

A cookie tin. Upon opening it, you discover that it’s full of sewing supplies.

A mildew ridden purse containing 15 copper pieces that have been battered, bent, chewed or otherwise mutilated.

A single, partially soiled piece of parchment with indiscreet scrawlings upon it.

A scrap of leather on which was penned a sonnet composed by a lacklustre poet.

A single note that says “I.O.U.” The handwriting is very sloppy.

A small wooden box that when first opened, is surprisingly full of spiders.

A wiry and crusty collection of what appears to be dried plant matter braided into many strands to simulate hair. It is perhaps the worst wig you’ve ever seen.

A tin ear with a hole through the middle. The back has three serrated pins, slightly wobbly, presumably meant to have connected it to a host's skull.

A perfectly rectangular orange.

A shortbow that was meant to ignite the arrows it fires. Unfortunately, the enchantment is so strong that it instantly disintegrates any arrow that is knocked and is completely unusable as a weapon.

A standard hinge and spring mousetrap with a desiccated mouse still caught inside.

A copper piece that has been bitten in half.

A fist size clump of hairy scalp wrapped in barbed wire dangling on a length of scarlet linen.

A waterskin half-filled with stale, brackish water.

A large side of spoiled meat wrapped in torn animal hide.

An opened stone bottle of strong, harsh alcohol.

A crudely fashioned hunting trap. It is made of gnarled wood and jagged iron hooks. It is too damaged to function properly but could be repaired and used to trap beasts, such as boar or deer.

A broken hazel wood staff scorched by flame.

A tiny boat crafted from a mouse's skull.

An aged cloth map detailed in a long dead language.

A cracked square mirror that reflects everything under a strange fuzzy layer. Creatures shown in the mirror seem to twitch or gain unnatural aspects.

A deer hide half way through the process of being tanned.

A set of damaged leather armor halfway through being mended.

A blanket made out of rat skins sewn together.

A wooden contraption that has drying plants pressed between two planks.

A half-eaten rat wrapped in a scrap of dirty, gore stained cloth.

A tightly strung lyre with residue on the strings that makes it look as if it has been used to cut cheese. The instrument is wildly out of tune. Along with the instrument the PC finds a brick of strong smelling cheese and a half eaten jar of olives.

A sprung mousetrap with no cheese and no mouse.

A bag of hard butterscotch candies, melted together by humidity and time.

A crusty used handkerchief. No monogram.

A few scraps of fine fabric, too small to make anything with.

A pair of eyeglasses, badly scratched.

A ticket stub to a play that was popular years and years ago but fell quickly out of fashion after the playwright was accused of plagiarism.

A ball of several feet of bundled up yarn, so badly knotted it might take hours to untangle the mess.

An earthenware jar containing a few common seashells.

A rock with eyes and a mouth painted on with the unskilled hand of a small child.

A small wooden box of stale tobacco leaf.

A rusty steel and smoked glass syringe.

A portrait of a plain, unremarkable woman. It looks old enough that the lady is likely long dead.

A small container labelled ‘Dr. Brown’s World Renown Elbow Grease’. It is nearly empty and smells foul.

A to-do list written in Infernal.

A dull letter opener, the handle has a griffon at the end with an illegible inscription, worn smooth with time.

A tankard with the handle broken off; the bottom also looks to be dented, as if dashed against something heavy.

A specimen jar of hardened gelatinous cube gel, so dry that it’s become powdery and useless.

A ratty leather wallet containing a thick wad of paper currency belonging to a now defunct nation, rendering them worthless.

A broken and rusted dagger with a brass hilt in the shape of an octopus.

A defaced stone bust of a fallen ruler.

A rude cartoon of the adventuring party, all of them mercilessly caricatured.

A small, crude, clay pot that looks like it was made by an apprentice potter on their very first day.

An old pair of wool socks that have multiple patches sewn into their frayed and fragile hems.

A common copper piece, both sides depicting a fat-jowled merchant. One face smiles cajolingly and the other sneers scornfully.

A heavy, black leather sack with a brown leather thong threaded through a series of small slits near its opening to serve as a drawstring. It contains a carefully wound ball of waxed twine, a three‐barb steel fishing hook with its points embedded in tiny cylinders of cork, and the remains of a broken lantern.

A matched pair of eyeball sized, square‐cut, dark green stones with bright red flecks. They appear opaque at first, but admit a faint glow through the edges when held to the light. Knowledgeable PC’s can identify the minerals as bloodstone.

A worn, weathered woollen belt pouch, originally dyed grey‐blue, holds bent copper coins in its roomy main compartment and a soiled handkerchief in each of two small exterior pockets. A belt, torn raggedly with the buckle‐end missing, is still threaded through the pouch's loops.

A clay jar filled with “Stinking Orc’s Foot” cheese.

An old and rusty axe head.

A child-sized short bow with a broken string.

The broken tip off a dwarf-crafted spear.

A terribly preserved sheep’s bladder which can be used as a container in an emergency.

A battered leather case containing a well-worn deck of cards, most of which are stained with wine.

A petrified cocoon of an unknown insect.

A single, partially soiled piece of parchment with indiscrete scrawlings upon it.

A glass jar large enough to hold a live chicken that instead contains only a greenish pickling solution and two dozen hard boiled eggs of indeterminate species.

A collection of leather scraps fashioned together into a vaguely humanoid doll.

A cloudy, dirty mirror that one can barely see their own reflection in it

A crudely stitched scarf made from ferret pelts.

A half-finished spell scroll stained with long-dried blood.

A mummified toad which, when squeezed, emits a large puff of foul-smelling black smoke from its mouth.

A cracked glass eye with some questionable stains on it.

A scrap of paper or parchment with an unintelligible note scribbled on it.

A dog sized carcass of an unknown beast that has been recently mutilated by something.

A roughly sewn doll of a cat with button eyes.

A fragment of slate with a fossilized fern.

A crude arrowhead fashioned from quartzite.

A set of colorful ceramic beads on a length of twine.

A petrified corpse of a minnow, hooked on a length of wire.

A small box, encrusted with dead barnacles and severely water damaged.

The scorched remains of a once-beautiful bouquet of flowers.

An old shortsword, long since dulled. A chalky black substance coats it, in place of rust.

A rusty cutlass with half the blade snapped off.

A piece of wood that sinks like a stone.

A twisted handle from a broken dagger. It has black stains.

A stringless lute with puncture marks.

A jar of mismatched cooking utensils. One has bloodstains.

A rusted iron torch bracelet.

A piece of sun-bleached driftwood.

An old and rusty axe head.

A small pouch full of burnt up expended spell components.

A set of four bone dice, so worn that one can barely make out the symbols.

A desiccated squirrel

A small cart of humble design, composed of old wood and rusted nails that struggle to hold the vessel together. The two wheels in the back are misshapen, and the mounting bars at the front are scuffed and worn from repeated use. A second look reveals numerous patches and fixes implemented by an experienced workman in the past.

An old half eaten book with a title on the spine that read “Biology of the common book worm and its dietar...” (The rest is missing).

A large mason jar of pickled monstrosity viscera.

A rusted pot filled with mummified deer hooves and pieces of antler.

A flour-sack dolly with yellow yarn hair. It’s missing one of its button eyes.

A thin wooden case, containing several broken pieces of charcoal, chalk, and a ruler.

A stained piece of parchment with a handwritten recipe for macarons.

A wide-toothed comb made of carved bone. One of the teeth is chipped.

A handmade plush elephant, made of mismatched scraps of blue fabrics. Its eyes are two black buttons, with stitched-on eyebrows set in a perpetually sad expression.

An old leather bridle harness and reins, cracked and worn but for the mirror-polished brass hardware, which always feels sun-hot to touch. The reins are creased and dyed brown with old blood in places, stained green with grass in others.

[gobblinhours]

So is 4 traumatized from being parallel cannon? And if so does 3 help or sympathize with her? Since they know what it feels like to be controlled

My Four is separate from Parallel Canon so this turned into a word vomit dump about how it works sorry (also i've been working on this since i got the ask since i actually have Motivation for once and im scared to see how long this took)

I'm interpreting Parallel Canon as a modification of the initial security system that was based off of data collected from Four.

My current concept is that the security system was created by Four fighting an incredibly basic simulation of an inkfish enemy that when splatted, respawned with recorded data from a mask that Four was wearing (along with the basic starting data extracted from a bunch of videos of Four going through Octo Canyon) which allowed the simulation to learn, making it get a little better at combat each time. The reason it was done like this and not just copying Four's soul is because Marina has Ethics and didn't want to Ship-of-Theseus her security system.

The end result is something weaker than the original, due to a slew of different factors (primarily worse improvisational skills.). Though the numbers difference should (in theory) make the difference negligible. After all, quantity is a quality in itself.

Parallel Canon differs from the original security system in that instead of a team of equals, it's a hierarchical system, with one "alpha" and a slew of lesser copies, each with the added abilities to summon Jelletons and mimic the color chips of the enemy's palette. The Alpha itself is derived from the original system and combined with a copy of the "soul data" from Four's palette for an extra boost, which is then copied again for the drones. Though each time the data is copied, it loses "potency", meaning that a drone with soul data straight from the palette would be 3-4 times as strong as a drone copied from the alpha. This is done to save processing power, as instead of a bunch of power-sucking supersoldiers, there's one and a bunch of less annoying scraps. (This is also why they are sent out in waves, to save processing power)

To maintain effectiveness, the lesser drones function similar to the Geth from Mass Effect, meaning that the more there are on the field, the sharper their mental faculties become. By doing this, it allows the drones to each be of similar competency to the Alpha when in large enough numbers, while making it less strenuous on the system by having them support eachother. (Don't @ me about the logic Marina made a full-dive VR that eats souls)

While the Parallel Canon are an overall improvement on the original security system in nearly every way, it shares a weakness with the original: the age-old strategy of "divide and conquer." Individually, the Canon soldiers are about on-par with a standard inkfish, so while it would be a toss-up against a normal invader, against someone like Eight, it's a bloodbath, and it only gets worse as more fall due to the Geth-like modification made by Order.

Back to the soul data, luckily the palette isn't enough to make an actual copy of Four, only making the Alpha like a Four-based chatbot. Emulating her behaviors the best it can with the restrictions put upon it by Order and its environment, though it's not actually alive, just responding to stimuli in a Four-like manner without any thought or intention behind the behaviors. (The drones also have an amount of variation due to imperfections in the copying process, as the initial copy was modified to learn towards combat skills, but a small error remained in the process that made subsequent copies lean towards random personality traits (the copy preference no longer had a target due to the battle data already being maxed out, so it defaulted to random), though they are even less "alive" than the Alpha)

TL;DR: The original security system was a machine learning algorithm that was based off of and fought Four to advance in skill, which was then modified and subsequently copied into the current form of Parallel Canon, meaning that Agent Four and the Alpha Canon are two separate entities.

TL;DRTTL;DR: Four fought a robot a bunch and doesn't even know what a "Parallel Canon" is.

[arterartthings]

My Bab fun sheet

Some notes about Barbara’s abilities

Small backstory of Barbara:

Barbara Strawberry is a teenager from Ashland in Pennsylvania. She became what is now known as Specimen 5 after being kidnapped by a mysterious cult and sacrificed to entity known as The Mother. The Mother, realizing that her Followers gave her a child ‚tainted’ by the Leader, pitied her. Barbara’s body encased in clay was reanimated by Mother and slaughtered the insencere cult members. Barbara’s soul remained dorment in in her own body for decades, until one day a mysterious person appeared in House on The Hill. Just after few hours from chasing the mysterious explorer, Barbara was resurrected as herself from before the ritual. Barbara remembers nothing from the day of the ritual sacrifice (which is for the better).

With almost everyone she knew from school being adults and indeterminate state of her real family, Barbara decided to stay in the house among other monstrous residents who still recognize her as one of them and Zachary Gāng, the host of Specimen 12 who is in similar situation as the girl, taking on the responsibility of being her guardian figure.

⭐️Barbara Fun Facts⭐️

Originally, Barbara was a rip off of Oka Ruto from Yandere Simulator (I created her around 2016-17, long before the shit plumeted)

Originally, Barbara had skills of summoning demons from Goetia and that was ther reason the cult kidnapped her. Obviously, that got scrapped later on in my life

She loves collecting 80’s tech, victorian era china and overall etheric/astrology decor

She’s 1/4 American, 1/4 German and 1/2 Korean

She has a younger brother

Her favorite dish is Ramen with wontons and kimchi (her mother’s invention)

[noxexistant]

Can I have wholesome thoughts?

Ikeshot thoughts maybe?

[smooches u on the forehead]

hotshot is the definition of a night owl. it’s just when he operates best, so most of the ‘dates’ he and ike spend together are at night, going wherever hotshot wants to that particular night - ike loves to follow him, loves to just be taken by the wrist and led somewhere, some special spot in brooklyn that ike’d never be able to see by himself. hotshot likes the harbour and piers best, likes to take ike to just sit on a ledge and stare out at the water together, admire the soft glow of streetlights shoulder-to-shoulder with their legs swaying and dangling, occasionally kicking each other gently. ike won’t go in the water, but hotshot’ll sometimes strip down to his drawers and dive in, and ike’ll watch him. let hotshot settle against his shoulder when he comes out even though he smells like a wet dog and is soaked to the bone. if it’s cold, once he’s made hotshot get dressed again, he’ll strip his own shirt off and wrap it around hotshot over his stupid sleeveless undershirt, and hold him close even though hotshot insists he’s absolutely not shivering. (he is.)

hotshot picks flowers and pretty plants for ike, collects leaves that are nice colours and shapes to give to him. ike presses them to keep, in the little journal he keeps by his bunk. he makes things for hotshot in turn, folds him little origami pieces out of paper scraps based on what he can remember his papai teaching him from what people taught him before he came to the us. he doesn’t know what it’s actually called, hotshot calls it ike’s paper magic - hotshot and mike are both equally enthusiastic about it, and each have their own collections of little folded gifts.

they stay out together until ike can’t stay awake anymore, late late into the night. he starts slurring into portuguese when he’s exceptionally tired, fully aware that he won’t be understood but unable to keep up with properly translating his thoughts, frustrated with words that just aren’t right in english. it amuses hotshot to no end, he loves hearing ike speak his mother tongue, loves listening when he and mike are talking between themselves, a chaotic mixture of portuguese and english and their made-up twin language. he never asks to know what it means, is content with not understanding, doesn’t want to steal anything from mike. but ike’ll translate things sometimes, when they head back to the brooklyn boys’ lodging house together when ike can hardly keep his eyes open. he’ll be lay scratching his fingers though hotshot’s hair as they’re both approaching sleep and mumble clarification that what he just called hotshot means “beloved”, or “handsome”, or “i d’know, but my mamãe use’ t’call papai that one”. he gets loose-lipped when he’s sleepy, talkative. hotshot loves it.

hotshot sleeps on top of ike, face tucked against ike’s neck, arms wrapped around ike’s waist. he snores a little, but ike doesn’t mind, just the same as hotshot doesn’t mind how twitchy ike is in his sleep. (hotshot is basically simulating a weighed blanket/deep pressure therapy on top of ike. it’s part of why ike sleeps so damn well when he’s got hotshot there with him, settles in a way he never can otherwise.)

hotshot loves ike’s stimming, and loves it most of all when ike doesn’t even realise he’s doing it. when he’s talking animatedly - the way he onto really does with hotshot - and starts rocking slightly in his happiness or excitement, or he’s rubbing his thumb back and forth over the scar on hotshot’s first knuckle, or smoothing hotshot’s hair between his fingers in it’s uneven little curls. hotshot stims a lot too - he’s got adhd - but they tend to be louder and more obvious, bouncing and being energetic and banging his palms against surfaces. rolling his shoulders and cracking his neck. he likes to drag ike up to join in with him, grinning and laughing as he dances ike around and shakes their joined hands and talks rapid-fire about anything that’s on his mind.

hotshot sleeps a lot more than ike does. he tends to fall asleep whenever they settle somewhere together. ike likes to just hold him like that, and he enjoys the peace and safety of those moments. he likes having hotshot in his arms to protect. hotshot insists that it’s his job to protect ike, but it’s equal. they’ve got each others backs. they’ve got each other.

[fazbear-entertainment-logs]

The Problem With MoltenMCI

There is a problem with MoltenMCI, and if you've seen my post about the whereabouts of Golden Freddy in Five Nights At Freddy's 3 then you already know part of the problem. The other part is that whether or not William was collecting remnant in Follow Me and intended to use the Fnaf animatronics for the Funtimes, it doesn't happen.

First of he seems to be killed by the Springlocks before he can, and the Fnaf 1 animatronics were put back together and were never used to make the Funtimes. Why do I say this, well it's because Follow Me takes place before Five Nights AT Freddy's 1. In the Five Nights At Freddy's 3 tapes we know the backrooms were boarded up which resulted in Springtrap being trapped in the back rooms. But the person we learn this from is Phone Guy, and as we know Phone Guy dies before Five Nights At Freddy's 1. And as we all know the animatronics are functional and possessed in Five Nights At Freddy's 1.

On a side note Follow Me could explain why Foxy is out of order, William just messed up Foxy.

Back on topic the MCI did not become the Funtimes by extension Ennard and later Molten Freddy. Meaning that MoltenMCI doesn't work, and Candy Cadet's story of 5 things becoming one can't be about Molten Freddy. Also, if you have seen my post about Golden Freddy's whereabouts you see I pointed out how he was never scrapped. But also if there is 2 spirits possessing Golden Freddy, and we assume MoltenMCI is true. Then shouldn't Candy Cadet's story be about 6 things becoming one? In addition shouldn't William be sending Michael to not only deal with his sister but his brother as well?

Also, going along with the where is Golden Freddy question, where is the rest of the MCI animatronics? If they were still functional in Five Nights At Freddy's 1 where did they go? Why weren't they found and used in Fazbear's Frights alongside the rotting Springtrap?

To a possible objection of them being used as decoration in Fazbear's Frights. We know there is a bunch of spare heads, suits, and parts in general in parts and service they could have used, or countless crappy cosplay as stated by the phone dude. So once again where are they?

Continuing on we know Golden Freddy is in the Five Nights At Freddy's: Pizzeria Simulator fire as stated in my previous post, the others were probably there but we aren't sure.

There is a possible explanation on where they are, but it requires Fnaf AR: Special Delivery to be canon. In an older post I mentioned that Rockstar Bonnie according to an email in FNAFARSP was made from parts of the original Bonnie. So if canon then the original animatronics MIGHT have been converted into the Rockstar animatronics.

Now some people might argue that it's soul splitting occurred to say MoltenMCI happened. The problem with this is as far as I am aware soul splitting has never been shown to be a thing in the games or even be eluded to, at least remnant is. Also, you still run into the missing Yellow Bear problem.

[brainrotlesbian]

FNAF: Enigma (general info)

Enigma is a whump AU I created at the end of either 2020 or 2021, for the life of me I don’t remember. Keep in mind I started it well before Security Breach, and before Vanessa was properly introduced, when Vanny was also very ambiguous so I took what I knew (the mask and rainbow hair, referenced in the AR game) and pulled out my version of Vanny: a lesbian disaster with a rough past.

The premise of this AU is: William has been researching remnant—how it’s made, it’s effects, etc—and has amassed a cult following of various outcasts of society (whether they want to be there or not), and he’s turned his sights on Vanny. She is trying to live her life, but is haunted by a dark past and has a body count, making her a good candidate for William to manipulate into becoming a prolific killer. Vanny doesn’t want to join him, so he, knowing that she and Michael are very close (a sort of father/daughter relationship), takes Michael hostage in order to get her to cooperate. Michael is punished when Vanny doesn’t cooperate, and is sometimes a bit of a punching bag for some of the more sadistic cultists.

The timeline for this is. Convoluted but this is FNAF so. FNAF 4, 2, and the original occur as in the games, in that order, including both the Bite of 83 (victim being Cassidy Afton—yes I’m calling him Cassidy it’s a cute name) and the Bite of 87 (victim being Jeremy Fitzgerald; at the time, Michael’s bf). Michael goes undercover as Mike Schmidt to figure out wtf is going on, figured out his father is responsible for the deaths of the 5 missing children (vengeful spirit Cassidy is different from Crying Child Cassidy), and sets out to bring his father to justice. Shortly after Michael leaves the FNAF 1 location, the restaurant closes and William suffers the springlock failure, but, instead of being left in the supply closet for 30 years, he’s found by the members of his cult and extracted from the spring Bonnie suit. Michael ventures to sister location, where he is scooped, and after ejecting Ennard into the sewers (gross), he circles back to Henry Emily to figure out what to do, where they decided to end the madness once and for all, leading to the events of Pizzeria Simulator. Vanny joins the team a few years in (collecting all of the scrapped animatronics is difficult and takes a while), and is clued in to Michael’s past, as they both are haunted from their own mistakes and the mistakes of their fathers. No, FNAF 3 does not happen

William’s cult started as research into remnant and how it works, discovered shortly after Charlie Emily’s murder in 1987 (a week before the murders of the 5 missing children). Most of the members of the cult are those who were preyed upon at their lowest and have no way to leave, and were tempted by William giving them promises of ways to fix their problems. The others are genuinely sadistic and enjoy causing pain and misery.

Miscellaneous info:

Mrs. Clara Afton was a lesbian when she was alive, marrying William (a gay man) in the late 60’s in order to present as a heterosexual couple. They also had kids in order to keep up that facade. She was murdered by William after Elizabeth’s death, as she planned on leaving him and taking Michael with her

Charlie Emily and Michael Afton were close as children. Even more unfortunate that Charlie saw William as a sort of uncle, leading her to trust him, which is why he was able to kill her (she was 15 at the time)

Michael Afton is trans. Just for funsies. William may be a murderer but he’s not a monster (transphobic)

Sammy Emily is still alive. He and Michael weren’t as close as Michael and Charlie were, but after Charlie’s death they became closer, almost brothers

Vanessa Howard had a younger sister, Lea, who couldn’t pronounce “Vanessa,” and instead called her “Vanny.”

William’s design (half rotted corpse gnarled with twisted, rusted metal) is very much so inspired by his design in The Fourth Closet (keep in mind I haven’t read the books)

[mari-bon]

hi hello :D i looove your art, so delicious verrry good :3!!! i saw your post of the pizzeria simulator characters but fnafhs and i thought you would like some ideas for the scissors thingies for scrap baby (if you didn't want suggestions i am sorry for the intrusion)

idea #1: like, one of those dinosaur head claw thingies this ones:

i dont know, thought it could be funny

idea #2: just like, a claw glove hand thing made out of cardboard since she likes horror movies and has a creepy mask it could be like she got inspired by like that guy that has like a chainsaw for a hand in the movie (sorry, i dont know the actual name of the movie)

anyway :D

love your posts, i hope you have a good time zone and sorry for the long ask

Oooo i do like the idea of her making the scissor hand thingy

Maybe she made the mask too cause she likes making diy horror movie props

She just has a collection of fucked up looking masks and weapons she made from cardboard maybe even a few cardboard statues and figuriens

Also dw about the long ask feel free to ask me any time <3

[crimsonlyinglilly]

No. 26: “Sometimes I get so tired; I don’t even know myself.”

Seeing Double | Working To Exhaustion | “You look awful.”

Strong body horror here, and some non-con adjacent stuff.

here for something a little different .

Set night four of Freddy Fazbear's Pizzeria Simulator.

Mike won’t die.

 —--

Michael was tired even before he started his shift, he’s still not sure why he can get exhausted or need sleep when his body is mostly dead but he was dealing with it for the most part, living out his nightmares every night certainly wasn’t helping.

Tonight was just a collection of his worst ones all at once. He was blaming the exhaustion for failing to spot and distract them. The first half of the night had gone well until Liz- Scrapbaby had appeared from the vent before he could distract her away.

The hand shoved though his chest was unneeded since the sight of her tended to give him a similar feeling, at least when he came back to himself she was gone and the new hole wasn’t as bad as he had worried.

Still he had been a little too concerned checking it and relieving the guilt of failing her, that he had missed the warning for his other family member.

At least the sight of springtrap at least washed the guilt away in favour of anger but the emotion didn’t give him any more of a chance to fight back.

And coming back again so soon left him unbalanced and cold. The sensation of being wrong within his own body was something he had gotten familiar with since he first woke up stiff and purple, but it got worse when he was repeatedly reminded how wrong life was for him now.

Still he was gone by the time Mike was able to snap his neck into place and pull himself back upright using the chair, placing his white bear mask on the table he was just about to tell himself that it couldn’t get worse with only 10 minutes left to go when he heard the vent to his right creek.

The made to scrabbled to the computer but a voice stopped him.

“TOO La-a-ate” a voice called from the vent, the large once bear crawled from the vent and greeted him “OH! Eg-eggs.” 

Not them. He almost begged to a god that clearly didn't like him, just when he thought his night couldn’t get worse.

“Not so happy familyyyy,” The one they had labelled Moten Freddy chuckled, far too many eyes locked onto him. “Does it h-h-hurt that they d-d-don’t recog-nise you?“

How long had it been waiting-watching? Mike swallowed at the thought of this thing waiting just out of his sight during the night.

Mike’s body took a step back without him thinking as the thing that had once worn his skin, that had stretched out bones and broken flesh, destroyed his eyes and tore his muscles, that had dragged his body around as he rotted,stood before him.

“You l–l-look aw-w-wful.” the bear almost sounded pitying, as it stared at him. For a moment they both stood still watching each other. “Working h-h-hard?”

Then the bear lunged and Mike found himself pinned to a wall, the anitronic’s weight crushing him easily.

‘Please don’t do too much damage’ he thought, the snapped neck was dealt with but he already had to find a clean shirt and stitch up the new hole scrap baby had left in his chest.

“We- mis-ssed you.” it told him, jaws snapping shut very close to his face.

Don’t think about Evan, Don’t think about Evan.

“Don’t you m-m-miss us?”

At first he doesn’t understand when he feels his shirt shift before hearing the buttons pop off, then pure panic overwhelms as he feels wires explore the skin under it, toying with the stitches it finds holding the wound that killed him together.

He can’t stop the whimpers that escape him and he tries to force exhausted body to fight as he feels something push though his stitches, and feels them snap and tear.

Feels something crawl inside him.

Not again, not again, not again.

His shriek turned into a sob as he found himself helpless to stop it.

Wires twisting around his ribs from inside finding the pieces of metal they had left behind last time, crawling up his spine, pushing through the remains of the lung he had left. His world narrowed down to the feeling inside as the world fell away.

“More fu-full than when we l-l-left you. No mat-ter, we’ll hollow you out a-a-gain-n.”

No, no, please no, no, no.

He couldn’t see anything but the form towering over him, a smaller pale blur starring from the desk and the sound of an ad loudly filling the room were lost to him all he felt was terror as more started to slip through the torn stitches filling the hollow within him as the wires started crawling up his throat.

He barely notices the hot feeling trailing down his cheeks as his eyes leaked, his mouth open choking on a silent scream.

Then they were gone, the wires and more pulled back quickly, causing more stitches to break and making his grasp at the sudden absence. He went limp in the bear’s grip suddenly aware it was the only thing keeping him up.

“Welp, mornings near-ly h-h-here, see you to-night b-b-birthday boy.”

He slid down the wall when the animatronic released him. He doesn’t watch it crawl back into the vent, it’s too much effort to move even his head.

After a time he makes no attempt to stand instead he drags his legs to his chest and wraps his arms around them, ignoring the wet he can feel spreading from the torn open wound in his torso, not knowing if it was from him or something the bear left, not wanting to think about it.

“Boss?” Helpy called.

“In a minute.” he croaked, he had to get up, prepare for the day, needed to change his clothes, clean himself, restitch himself.

He just needed a little time.

Mike took a breath he didn’t need, both him and the small bear ignored the way it hitched.

He wanted to rest.