#so i can make sense of them being half machines and half organic?

[lyss-butterscotch]

Iterator blood!?

Imagine Moon accidentally pricking her finger with a spear, it starts to bleed and Pebbles like 0-0 and Moon like "haha It's just a scratch! Relax!"

Yeah that definitely happens, especially with Pebbles being super on edge when it comes to Moon's well being now. Small scratches can usually be welded shut without alot of issues though! Not Moon's first experience with it.

[sith-shenanigans]

The thing about the Omelas story is that I don’t hate it, actually.

Don’t get me wrong. Usually, when I think about it, it drives me up a wall. I also—on the subject of responses to it—didn’t really like The Ones Who Stay And Fight. (Most of my reasons are said, better, in this article. Not the part about the tone, but that it shot for ambiguity and ended up in “somehow, the clearly magical power of child suffering made more sense than intolerance being a memetic virus that can only be solved through police murder.”) I’m fond of responding to trolley problems by asking who’s tying people to trolleys, and then insisting that it is morally relevant that someone tied those people to the tracks, because you wouldn’t be deciding who lives and who dies if someone hadn’t made the deliberate choice to put those people in mortal peril for no pressing reason.

(I like to think I’d save the five people. I think a lot of us would most likely panic and do something entirely unhelpful, and in practice, I have no idea if I’m one of them, because no one has ever tied anybody to a trolley track in front of me. It just hasn’t come up. But the ideal would be to save the five people. That’s not my answer in the organ-harvesting version, though, because it’s bad for everyone to live in a place where a surgeon can decide to kill you for your organs, no matter how many people doing it just this once would save.)

But I don’t dislike the story that Omelas came from. I don’t even dislike trolley problems, unless people are trying to insist that the context doesn’t matter. (The context always matters.) The problem is that everyone treats Omelas as a trolley problem. “Here’s a utopia where one innocent person has to suffer horribly. Is it worth it, to keep so many other people from suffering? Would you stay and be complicit, or would you walk out to go anywhere else?” The child is the central feature of Omelas, the only thing that matters. The child is nonnegotiable. You can’t rescue them, you can only walk away.

But the narrator did give us the chance to believe, before adding the child in.

Omelas is described to us as half place and half thought experiment, by a narrator that adds things as they go, a narrator that says this at close to the opening:

As they did without monarchy and slavery, so they also got on without the stock exchange, the advertisement, the secret police, and the bomb. Yet I repeat that these were not simple folk, not dulcet shepherds, noble savages, bland utopians. They were not less complex than us. The trouble is that we have a bad habit, encouraged by pedants and sophisticates, of considering happiness as something rather stupid. Only pain is intellectual, only evil interesting. This is the treason of the artist: a refusal to admit the banality of evil and the terrible boredom of pain. If you can't lick 'em, join 'em. If it hurts, repeat it. But to praise despair is to condemn delight, to embrace violence is to lose hold of everything else. We have almost lost hold; we can no longer describe a happy man, nor make any celebration of joy.

And goes on, in the narrative, to consider the reader’s opinion, to ask what they’ll believe.

I wish I could convince you. Omelas sounds in my words like a city in a fairy tale, long ago and far away, once upon a time. Perhaps it would be best if you imagined it as your own fancy bids, assuming it will rise to the occasion, for certainly I cannot suit you all. For instance, how about technology? I think that there would be no cars or helicopters in and above the streets; this follows from the fact that the people of Omelas are happy people. Happiness is based on a just discrimination of what is necessary, what is neither necessary nor destructive, and what is destructive. In the middle category, however – that of the unnecessary but undestructive, that of comfort, luxury, exuberance, etc. – they could perfectly well have central heating, subway trains, washing machines, and all kinds of marvelous devices not yet invented here, floating light-sources, fuelless power, a cure for the common cold. Or they could have none of that: it doesn't matter. As you like it.

[…]

But even granted trains, I fear that Omelas so far strikes some of you as goody-goody. Smiles, bells, parades, horses, bleh. If so, please add an orgy. If an orgy would help, don't hesitate. […] Surely the beautiful nudes can just wander about, offering themselves like divine souffles to the hunger of the needy and the rapture of the flesh. Let them join the processions. Let tambourines be struck above the copulations, and the glory of desire be proclaimed upon the gongs, and (a not unimportant point) let the offspring of these delightful rituals be beloved and looked after by all. One thing I know there is none of in Omelas is guilt. But what else should there be?

Omelas is a story being told to a listener, a utopia being described; the reader is an implied participant in a conversation, the narrator reacting to what they said where the page couldn’t hear. And so, after all of that, the narrator says:

Do you believe? Do you accept the festival, the city, the joy? No? Then let me describe one more thing.

And the narrator goes on to describe the child, the terrible price, the self-justifications that people employ. Because the listener doesn’t accept the festival, the city, the joy—only pain is intellectual, only evil interesting. So the narrator engages in “the treason of the artist” (if you can't lick 'em, join 'em) and regales us with the child’s sorry state.

[…] They know that they, like the child, are not free. They know compassion. It is the existence of the child, and their knowledge of its existence, that makes possible the nobility of their architecture, the poignancy of their music, the profundity of their science. It is because of the child that they are so gentle with children. They know that if the wretched one were not there snivelling in the dark, the other one, the flute-player, could make no joyful music as the young riders line up in their beauty for the race in the sunlight of the first morning of summer.

Now do you believe in them? Are they not more credible?

I don’t think we’re being asked, as readers, to consider whether it’s worth it, though it’s certainly something we can consider if we want. But the narrative seems quite clear that it isn’t: to praise despair is to condemn delight, to embrace violence is to lose hold of everything else. A description of Omelas, of why Omelas should be believed in, but how could that be anything but a condemnation of a city powered by a forsaken child?

And, of course, everyone wants to ask—why don’t we free the child, why don’t we comfort the child, why don’t we change things and take the risk of making everything worse? Why is the best thing we can do to walk away?

Because we needed the utopia to have suffering in it, to believe it. Because it couldn’t be real until there was a cost, a price, something cruel and unfair to balance out the scales. Something had to be wrong with Omelas, as the narrator spun it up before us. Yes, perhaps we could save the child, perhaps we could ruin everything, perhaps we could be heroes—wouldn’t that be nice? Wouldn’t that be the story we want, here, where someone is suffering and only we (who are of course more compassionate than everyone else) can fix it? That would make it a real utopia, if we could kick down the doors and fix everything ourselves.

But it would have been better to believe that Omelas could exist without someone suffering for it, when we were asked.

[serickswrites]

Eyes Like Fire

Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5

Warnings: mayhem, destruction, threat of death

Hero's chest was heaving as they ran as quickly as they could for shelter. Everything had gone wrong and they weren't sure how to fix it. All they knew is that they couldn't let Villain, a being with eyes like fire, a being unlike anything they had encountered, a being that had destroyed half of a block with a mere wave of their hands, catch them.

They had been relaxing at Base when an alert went off about a potential for a mass casualty event that would start in an hour. Hero had been so glad that Organization had gifted them the technology that could predict the future. Since receiving it, City had been so much safer.

But as the alarm went off, Hero's mouth went dry as they realized they couldn't understand what the machine was warning about. The information it spat out made no sense. And so they set off to the abandoned warehouse on the outskirts of town, the place where a mass casualty event would start if Hero didn't stop it.

And now as they fled for their life, Hero realized nothing could have prepared them for this.

***

"Villan," Supervillain drawled as they reclined on their throne.

"Yes, my liege?" Villain bowed low. Though for all intents and purposes Villain appeared the loyal and enthusiastic apprentice, Villain loathed every moment they spent in Supervillain's company. They loathed the things Supervillain made them do. They wanted nothing more than to be free of the burning freezing lands that Supervillain. But they were not strong enough to fight back. Yet.

"I want you to go to Earth. I want to know what Organization is up to."

Villain started. Earth. They hadn't been permitted to go to Earth ever. This was their chance. "Am I to just observe and report, my liege?" They sounded bored. They couldn't let Supervillain know about the hope and eagerness that bubbled up in them. Couldn't let Supervillain take away their chance at freedom.

"You can have a little fun while your up there. But yes, observe and report."

Villain gave a wicked grin. "I am delighted that you would pick me for this mission, my liege. I won't let you down." They spun on their heel and made for the portal.

"And Villain," Supervillain called, "you are to return immediately when I call."

***

Earth was everything Villain had hoped and dreamed for. As the portal dropped them in a dingy, empty street, they could feel the fires of hell flickering through their veins. It had taken more power than they would have liked to build a body they could inhabit on this plane. Perhaps they had not made the body strong enough. They could always make another they supposed.

Villain went to step forward but found they couldn't. They looked around to see what had trapped them. Villain frowned as they spied a circle of power keeping them tethered to the portal. How would they break free of it?

"Stop where you are!" A voice shouted from the edge of the street. "State your name, where you come from, and your intentions."

Villain cocked their head as they stared at the human. This human was....more than human. They stood tall and proud, their well muscled body tense as they stood before Villain. Villain liked this human.

"I said, state your name, where you're from, and your intentions," the human repeated as they took a step towards Villain.

Villain smiled as the human inadvertently broke the circle of power containing them. "I'm Villain." Villain took a step forward. "I'm from Hell." They watched the human grow afraid of them. Watched and felt the fire burn in their veins. "And I am free." And they unleashed the flames.

[hiso03]

Fanfic ideas that I had finished, but that I lost because they were in the notes of my old cell phone and I have no way to recover them (even though I have tried).

1-Potion failed.

The idea was simple, but clear, although perhaps a little problematic.

Hal is the captain of the personal guard of His Highness the King of the Central Kingdom; However, the whole conflict arises because Hal is fed up with most of the maidens rejecting him with the possibility of being married by Barry, so Guy makes a joke about going to the sorceress of the cursed forest and asking her for help, Hal takes the idea (despite it being a joke) and escapes one night, he finds Zatanna in an old house and asks her for help, she does not accept at first, but after several minutes of pleading she ends up helping him.

He gives him a kind of potion, but the indication is simple, he must prepare a sweet meal with that position, but it is important that for it to work he adds honey, not sugar. Hal returns home and does what Zatanna asked him except he made a mistake, he doesn't use honey, but use sugar.

He gives Barry the food he made and the king does not distrust his guard and closest friend.

Hal thinks everything went well, except that from the next day Barry starts acting too strange towards him. John, who immediately deduces that Hal did what he did, scolds him and tells him to go to Zatanna to solve what he himself caused. When he arrives with the girl, she scolds him and tells him that by mixing sugar instead of honey, he altered the function of the position and that now turned it into one of love… The problem is that they cannot reverse it in any way and they have to wait several months until Barry returns to normal.

That teaches Hal the lesson of not playing with magic he doesn't understand.

2-Friend zone.

This is more comedy and I wrote it to make fun of Hal.

Hal has an infallible plan to start dating Barry, however, no one believes that he will really achieve it and even his friends bet with him, that if at the end of his plan Hal has not managed to make Barry understand his intentions, he will invite Guy, John, Kyle and Oliver to eat wherever they want and they can bring a companion. Hal, sure of his success, accepts and in each attempt he fails miserably while Barry thanks him for his help and always tells him that he is a great best friend.

Hal begins to dwell on his impending defeat until the girls help him without him realizing it.

In the end everything works out, but since they discover that the girls helped Hal, he has to pay half of the bill.

3- Robots

Hal is a human with robotic parts, he along with other subjects have one of the most important jobs in their city, they are like a kind of last resort police for the government. The green lanterns.

Hal was the first Green Lantern prototype despite not remembering it, however, he does not really remember anything before his conversion, he only knows that he was an army pilot and that he had an accident in a plane that destroyed several organs and parts of his body. (they are the ones that were replaced with machines). Hal does not meet his creator until one day he is taken to meet a blonde man a couple of years older than him who is locked in a glass box with a dangerous legend.

From the first time they meet, Hal feels a strange connection with Barry and can sense that he also feels the same although he denies it.

In a tense and strange way, he discovers that Barry is one of the few "original" metahumans and that he has caused great chaos in the past, which is why he is locked up, and he also ends up discovering from his other friends that Barry was the one who created his prosthetics. and that in fact, she met him before his mysterious accident and they have more history together than Barry is willing to reveal.

(This story was very long, I wrote only 5 chapters out of order so that it made sense and until recently I remembered many details. I remember that it was partly inspired by the best Hispanic fans I have read about the couple.. Too bad this fic was left unfinished, and so was this one.)

I only publish this so as not to forget the ideas and not lose them (again), I don't think I will do them or at least not in the short term, since all these ideas came to me and were written (along with others), in a very dark and difficult time for me, Therefore, most of the ideas are very disorganized and even in my memories, I was aware that the writing was strange and more superficial.

Maybe at some point I will be encouraged to return to them, when I have more time and can give it more planning.

[spinningbagel]

Been a hot minute since I’ve talked about the Cyberpunk AU so that’s what I’m doing, covering Wart, Verruca and cybernetic mutant stuff.

WARNING FOR: mentions of human and animal experimentation (both completely forced and unwilling) and implied manipulation(?)

Be careful guys and let me know if I need to add anything 💕

WART:

Wart is insane to put it lightly. He runs his experiments regarding cybernetic parts and organic beings on himself, "Volunteers" (What end up being the colossuses in this AU) and animals (making the Cybernetic mutants). At this point, you could hardly call him human, having experimented on himself so much that’s he’s more machine than human. If I had to give you an estimate, I’d say over half his body is cybernetic at this point, and none of it is truly stable. It’s all experimental stuff done by him.

His base of operations is District 0 as it has no authority and no one is going to try and stop him there, he’s one of the most influential people down there, rivalling Brutux.

He also picked District 0 because his experiments aren’t ethical at all, like, they’re extremely painful to go through. Even more so because his victims volunteers aren’t given any kind of anaesthetic prior to the experiments. They just end up passing out from pain.

Like in canon, he is under the Supreme Master’s command. Which is the whole reason the experiments are being performed at all (mostly). But more on that at a later date 😋😋

VERRUCA:

She is both Warts sister and assistant, occasionally helping with any of the experiments. She doesn’t particularly want to however, even she knows how inhumane these experiments are. The only reason she does help out is out of misplaced loyalty and a weird sense of obligation. Wart has her slaving away constantly, claiming that she has to because "They’re family" (And because he’s threatened to kill her).

She has, also become victims to the experiments, with it being the one time Warts victims were sedated from the start. She hates it, if she wasn’t being manipulated into staying pliant, she would’ve left or killed him a long time ago.

CYBERNETIC MUTANTS:

The cybernetic mutants are a result of Warts experiments on organic beings and cybernetic parts and how far you can mix the two. They’re all animals, typically ones taken from places like pounds or even just the streets, animals that people wouldn’t notice to be missing.

Their forms are incredibly unstable, since all the tech forced upon them is experimental stuff and probably shouldn’t be used on any kind of living being. The mutants at all times are in extreme pain, it is mercy to kill them. They would plead for it if they had both the voice and consciousness to. The experiments performed on them are gruesome and inhumane to put it lightly.

Cybernetic mutants function as a hive mind, when they are..modified. They’re wired up to this kind of main network where they can be given orders (usually by any of the colossuses, Wart and occasionally the SM, Verruca isn’t allowed to.).

Have fun with this chat, might talk a bit more about the colossuses at a later date (and anything y’all are curious about still)

Stay safe and eat bread o7

[analviel]

ATLA NETFLIX, some of the thoughts I wrote down while watching:

The costumes!!!!!!

Fire. Bending.

The bending in general but FIRE bending and the way it left the victims.

Gasp! Oh, oh, oh! Help was sent to the earth kingdoms, maybe not the best fighters but still a lot of them, that's why the air nomads were wiped out and the southern water was devastated while the Earth kingdom stood the strongest. I like the way they set this up.

AAAAAAANG!!!

AIR NOMADS!!!!

Monk Gyatso!!!

Kinda bummed that Katara didn't break the ice by getting angry but I'm gonna be optimistic.

Hoooooo Sokka and Zuko exceed my expectations! "His destiny". "Repeating it doesn't help".

Although, the face burn is a bit underwhelming especially with what we just saw of the previous fire victims.

Sooooo excited for all the bending!!!

THE COSTUMES! THE TATTOO, ESPECIALLY THE WAY IT'S PLACED AROUND HIS ARMS!!!

Idk why maybe bcs Katara is my favourite so I'm watching her but she feels so.... Hmmm. Quiet. What happened to her lines at the beginning, for someone who's words are the first we hear in the OG.

When Sokka said "Before you kill someone", I expected at least a "Sokka!".

I do love the actress with the lines she's been given tho. With the rant to Sokka on the Air Temple. Gets that hopeful glint Katara has.

Zuko flipping out yes! He's so... Spazzy, does that make sense?

I'm not too young, I just haven't seen the world yet- Suki

Suki and Sokka are sooooooooo awkward I LOVE IT!!! Also that Mulan make-up remover. Asians are just built different I guess.

AANG AND KYOSHI!

Katara standing in Zuko's way- I can't wait until Zuko offers to kill her mother's killer with her!

We got Azula!!! Oh I love those first lines delievered like that!

Did I mention I love how Zuko is visibly falling apart, barely able to keep himself together, because I do, I really do!

Okay I'm gonna say it, Katara feels like she's just being dragged around everywhere. No- no initiative.

I....

Do not like that.

Feels like she's not getting riled up enough by Sokka maybe.

Mai is SO Mai, you can hear it so well!

They did Jet's intro good!

My Cabbages! The most passion so far!

Ooooh! Oh I do adore the secret tunnel scene in this!!!!

The Bumi actor is so good.

A friend. A friend! The direct Aang/Zuko and Gyatso/Iroh parallels.

The Zuko redemption storyline is living up to itself so far.

As for Azula, I really wished they left the breaking down era a little bit later. Like yeah, Azula wasn't right in the head from the beginning but that was shown more in how terrifyingly aloof and unstoppable she was in the earlier episode I believe but, well.

There's already a bond between Aang and Zuko but I've yet to see anything half like OG Katara and Aang!

Hmmm, actually, regarding Azula..... Ozai is, weirdly, invested in Zuko in a way we could've said OG Ozai would never say that. Which explains Azula here.

I love the avatar state glowy effects!

The sexism against Katara doubled and coated with genuine concern and real-life reasons that makes it hard to counter argue is making me lean in, in anticipation of how it will make my Katara blow up.

...... So no plan?..... I'm working on it, Uncle.

Sokka rushing towards Katara to 'convince her'.

Azula and Katara in the same episode is foreshadowing parallels.

Excited to have Katara's bending to visibly improve, like in the OG. And by that I meant how organically her water whip evolved smoother and faster in the animation. Like, you could see it.

........ Pakku vs Katara. Love the action, the effects. It could've been so good in regards to catharsis if Katara had just raged...... I'm just. Not going to.

Getting rid of their machine controls renders the fire army sitting ducks in the middle of ocean. Which makes me think of that reverse AU where the water tribe conquers the world.

If the water benders all work together, they can just have a giant tsunami turn them all over.

Master? Master Katara?...... That's so.... It's surprising rather than something you'd anticipate and cheer when we finally gain it.

Not a single waterbending training montage with Pakku. I'm still not sure if Pakku trained her or just gave her the title.

I like that I can tell that they know what they want to do with Sokka.

Not so much with Katara.

I gasped when all the Northern Tribe female waterbenders stepped forward like that.

So. There's a lot of stuff that they removed and added that I didn't like- less 'added', and more 'rushed'. Things that should've built up gradually, that could've been revealed in little bits were just immediately shown to us- my example here is Azula. When I first saw Azula, she was terrifying, her and her group were both my dream group and incited fear and awe in younger me, I didn't think she was insecure, I didn't think she was scared, she was practically the damn terminator with that epic episode of tracking the gaang slowly but steadily and driving them to exhaustion.

Is she actually insecure and batshit insane and scared? Yes. Was that what you were supposed to be able to tell with a single glance? No.

At first I thought maybe I was just biased with Katara, but I also feel like a lot of stuff they did with Azula was just.....

They did Sokka good, which was actually who I was concerned about the most. Zuko- I really love his portrayal. My moments of doubt with Aang are actually closely tied with Katara, which makes sense because hello, their friendship and bond was very important to the whole thing. Would've been a wonderful contrast to his Past bond with Gyatso and his Future bond with Katara.

I do think it's good.

Let me marinate on this.

[draconic-ichor]

The Cat, The Sun, and The Moon

Chapter 6

Fnaf fanfic

Sun/Moon x female oc

Warnings: strong language, sexual themes, obsessive behavior, angst, bruises, sickness, medication use, mucus mentions, infection, hospitals, delirium

Summary: Tabby’s lungs were weakened in their escape from the fire. When a small cough starts to appear it may signal something much worse than allergies…

Feedback appreciated, 18+. This was getting a bit long so the spice is saved for next chapter!

After the ‘bad day’, Moon was much more reserved. Whatever progress he had made to come out of his shell had seemingly vanished. He took up movie watching much more frequently, to the point Tabby subscribed to a streaming service just for him.

He’d watch, optics dimming to almost black, and with that common scowl he would frequently wear.  His responses to Tabby reverted as well, mostly answering her with one word sentences or just not answering all together. Tabby gave him space.

Tabby sat on the edge of the tub, legs within to shave. She only truly needed to shave about half the skin now; even with that fact she didn’t save any time given that extra care had to be taken to avoid the scar tissue that twisted around her legs. Since she shaved with her night shorts on and an old tshirt Sun was allowed to hang out in the bathroom with her.

He was curiously shifting through the toiletries that littered the sink.

The sink was a sore subject between them: it being the epicenter of a previous small fight. Tabby was a messy person, but it was a calculated chaos to her mind. Sun was the opposite, enjoying organization and stacking objects around, that fact Tabby letting go in most of the house. But when it came to her makeup she put her foot down. While she was at work, Sun ‘organized’ the bathroom sink, while also throwing away any outdated products.

Tabby wasn’t amused.

In the wake of that little incident Sun was not allowed to interfere with her sink messes. He was allowed to peruse, just don’t move stuff around.

Sun picked up the bottle of mouthwash, the bright, candy colored liquid within captivating him. He opened the lid, faceplate turning over the top. Outside of detecting smoke or blood, he truly didn’t have a good sense of smell at all, that being replaced with his sense of taste.

He tipped his head back, drinking a swig. As soon as the liquid passed his mouthparts, disappearing into that mystery cavity, he began to make choking and sputtering sounds of displeasure.

“Maybe don’t actually drink that, big guy?” Tabby raised an eyebrow to his antics.

“Why does it burn?” He asked, sitting the bottle down to flap his hands.

“It’s not made to be drank!”

“But it looks so fun and is made for your mouth!” He protested.,

“Just to slosh around a spit out!” She argued, a giggle to her voice, “You don’t actually eat the toothpaste either.”

He frowned, looking almost guilty, making her burst out laughing.

“How many inedible things have you tried in here?!” She snorted.

Sun looked even more like a naughty child, rays dropping as she laughed harder.

He pouted a bit as she finished up, drying off her legs to then add the towel to the overflowing laundry basket.

“I guess I need to do laundry again…” she sighed, hand on her hip.

Sun brightened, asking, “Can I help?”

Tabby took a second to think it over before answering, “Well, it’s still in the apartment…and you have different clothes and stuff now.” She thought, “It should be ok.”

“Yeah!” Sun celebrated.

The laundry machines were located in the apartment’s basement, multiple coin operated machines lining one wall. Tabby pulled Sun down, instructing him to keep his rays fully retracted, before pulling his hood up over his head. It wasn’t perfect, but she was hoping from a distance people would think him just a lanky human.

They carried the large baskets of dirty clothes down to the basement, Sun helping separate them into loads when they got there. Once all three washing machines were going he fiddled with his own hands awkwardly.

Tabby was playing on her phone, oblivious.

“Star?” Sun asked.

“Hm?”

“What do we do now?”

She closed her phone, shrugging, “We gotta wait.”

“You wait here the whole time?” He looked upset.

“I don’t trust my stuff alone here.” She put a hand on her hip, “Do you know what some people would do with my stuff.”

“Take it?” Sun ventured.

“If only just that…” she sighed.

“W-What else would they do?” He asked cautiously.

“There’s men out there that want women’s panties.” She explained, “Especially ones that have been worn before.”

“Why would they want those?”

“It’s a fetish thing.” She whispered back, leaning on the washer.

“…oooooh.” Sun frowned. He was still for a moment fiddling with his hoodie before asking, “How do you know about that?”

“Oh, everybody does.” She waved away the question, smiling nervously.

M: She’s made approximately 586.64$ selling used panties in the past.

S: HOW DO YOU KNOW THAT?!

M: heeeheeheehee

Sun’s optics narrows at Tabby making her blush deeper.

As the clothes spun around in the dryer, Sun groaned audibly. “This is taking fooooorever!” He whined, faceplate to the sky.

“The joys of laundry.” Tabby sighed, adding wistfully, “Hopefully, one day we can have a real house with our own laundry room.”

Sun tilted his head, “Us there too?”

“Only if you want to.” She smiled.

Sun nodded, feeling warm inside. He suddenly sobered, thinking.

“We agreed to tell each other things right…?” Sun’s voice sounded guarded.

“Yes?” Tabby put her phone down.

“Well…” Sun rubbed his shoulder, looking away.

M: Don’t.

Sun closed his optics, steeling himself. “Moon has been upset for a while.” He finally blurted.

Tabby stood, face concerned.

“He uh…really misses his hat.” Sun explained, “He was very attached to it…something special to him. And…”

“Oh no, his hat!” Tabby suddenly realized. In the chaos after the fire she’d completely forgotten.

“Yea…he’s been a bit on edge about it.” Sun nodded, quickly adding, “That doesn’t excuse the…outburst…but it may have contributed to raised emotions.”

“Well make him a new one!” Tabby announced, “I have so many clothes I never wear, some of them must be the right colors.”

“Really?” Sun’s face brightened, rays spinning.

“Sure!” She smiled back, “Can you sew?”

“I can learn.” Sun nodded, excited, “He will be so happy.”

~

Sun was sat cross legged on the floor, carefully looking over all the clothes Tabby had dumped on the floor.

“Are you sure, Starlight?” Sun asked worriedly, touching over the pile of clothes before him.

“Yep!” She nodded, “I haven’t worn this stuff in forever…”

“Okay…” Sun gave a little nod back, starting to sift through the pile.

Tabby sat next to him, asking after a moment, “What would he like? We can do anything.”

Sun paused, eyes going far away. She waited patiently as they spoke. Blinking, he came back. “A darker blue base with stars, like before, but if possible he’d like the stars to be metallic.” Sun put a curled finger to his chin, eyes narrowing with concentration, “He’s also a fan of a furred brim.”

“Well I definitely don’t have any real fur but…” Tabby stood, going back to the closet, thinking.

Sun pulled a blue hoodie from the pile, holding it up.

S: This blue alright, Moony?

M: …yes

S: Swell!

“Look!” Tabby announced, spinning round to show them her find. She held a cat eared hat covered in a soft white-grey faux fur. “We can use this for the fur!” She beamed.

“Are you sure?”

“It’s from my scene kid days…” she shrugged, “Moon will get much better use out of it.”

“Thank you!” Sun lit up, adding that to the blue hoodie, “Now we only need the stars and maybe something to line it to give more stability…”

They shifted through the pile, Tabby adding certain things to a box as they went, for donation. Sun found a pair of pants of a more substantial material to use as a lining. As they reached the end, Tabby spired something metallic, pulling free a shirt with shiny gold shelves.

Sun gasped, hands to his face in a showy display of excitement, “That’s perfect!”

“I thought I had some gold stuff somewhere.” She smiled, handing it over.

Over the next few days, during Sun’s allotted free time, he practiced sewing, just on scrap pieces of fabric at first. Being what he was and given that the task was fairly repetitive, he picked up the skill quickly; moving on to cutting out shapes from the chosen clothes.

Moon was more the one to hack into devices or record others without their knowledge; digging his fingers through all the data he could, like a sick hobby. But Sun was also capable of such things, in smaller, more easier to to justify to himself  doses.

He particularly excused the small video files he’d collected over the recent weeks. Small clips of Tabitha doing mundane things, mostly. Sun noticed that she would carefully cover most of her legs whenever going out; be it with stockings, thigh high socks or pants. She would only show her legs within the apartment, even though it used to be common for her to wear clothing with exposed legs in the past. So it wasn't her usual attire choice.

It had to be because of the burn scars that now decorated her legs like a patchwork, Sun ventured to guess. She was self conscious about them.

But…

Not here.

His optic followed her as he sewed, noting the contentment she held in his presence. Did she forgo covering up her concerns because of a level of true closeness or was it merely she did not view him to the same standards of a fellow human?

He looked back to his project, thinking.

She refused to get naked in-front of him, seeing that act as being intimate. So by that logic she viewed him as enough of a person to illicit embarrassment from ‘inappropriate’ interactions for their current relationship status.

He hummed a bit.

The fact alone she called their interactions a relationship was good.

He looked up the definition of relationship: the way in which two or more concepts, objects, or people are connected, or the state of being connected…..

People.

The way two people are connected…

M: Think any harder and you’ll blow a fuse…

Moon scoffed in their shared headspace.

S: Well then, give me your illustrious insight.

M: If you still need to think if she cares about us as people you need more help than I am qualified to give.

S: I need a great many things you are not qualified to give.

Sun gave a sharp smile to himself, fingers never slowing in their task.

M: Well then you better stop thinking a hole in our head and do something about it.

S: It's not that easy. Especially not after your little stunt. These things take time.

M: uuugh

S: You aren't even talking to her, making things more difficult for us both…

Moon was silent, retreating back, ashamed.

S: I’ll do what I do best, and clean up after your messes.

Sun hissed in their mind.

“You ok?” Came a worried ask, snapping Sun back to the present.

He blinked his optics, seeing Tabby giving him a look. “Of course, Sunshine!” His voice was just a bit too forced, “Why do you ask?”

“You just looked…off?” She murmured.

“Just concentrating.” He held up the hat a little, wiggling it for emphasis. He shut Moon out silently.

“Okay….” She didn’t sound convinced, “Don’t strain yourself though, ok?”

“The only thing I can strain is my patience.” He smiled, “Don’t worry.”

“Hmmm.” Her eyes narrowed, but she thought it better not to press. Sun could be quite threatening if he wished to be, could get that look about him with an overly enthusiastic smile.

~

“It’s finished!” Sun announced, holding out the hat to Tabby.

Tabby took it, looking it over. There were a few places where the stitches showed on the stars and the bell was a bit oversized but it made it all the more perfect.

“He’ll love it!” Tabby smiled, trying to hand it back.

“No, no.” Sun tilted his head, a soft smile, “I want you to give it to him…”

“Are you sure?” She looked over it again, thumbs rubbing over the fur rim, “…He hasn’t wanted to talk to me much.”

Sun had been careful to shut Moon out in preparation for the surprise, that fact giving him courage to say more. “No…” Sun’s smile faded, “He wants to talk to you so badly.”

Concern shadowed her, an understanding filling her eyes. She bent forward a bit, tilting her head toward him. Sun mimicked the movement, softly bonking his forehead against hers.

“So will you?” He asked, optics opening. Their eyes were so close. His optics cast a soft glow over her features.

“Yes.” She smiled, face lighting up even more.

Sun’s fans kicked up audibly, making Tabby giggle. He pulled away, embarrassed, Tabby catching a small puff of steam escaping a crack in his exoskeleton.

They didn’t have to wait long, night rapidly approaching. With Sun having shut him out right after their argument, Moon had assumed something was wrong.

His optics blinked worriedly at Tabby as he came online, realizing she was standing right in front of him. His gaze shot around the darkened room to get his bearings, posture anxious.

But Tabby didn’t look cross.

No.

She looked…happy? Excited even?

He loosened the stiffness in his form, tilting his head curiously, first to one side then the other with a ‘click’.

“We have a surprise for you!” Tabby announced, stepping closer.

Moon finally noticed her hands behind her back. His fans kicked up loudly.

Tabby revealed the surprise, holding out a folded fabric bundle.

Moon cautiously took it, moving it about his hands to loosen it open. He froze, optics wide.

A new hat, finished and in his hands.

His fingers felt over the fabric, his movements causing the bell to make sweet tinking sounds.

“Do you like it?” She asked excitedly.

Moon’s thumbs felt over the fabric again, optics blinking up to look at her now. Her smile turned gentle, seeing him trying to swallow back emotion.

Moon carefully lifted the hat, clipping it to the special clamps that kept the hat in place and would allow it to shift with their transitions. The bell gave a soft tink as he situated it to his liking.

He finally looked complete, hands coming back down to worry together. Optics shifted around, awkwardly, unable to look at her.

Tabby bounced a bit, giddy. She surged forward, hugging Moon. Moon froze, his fan kicking up loudly. He looked down, face plate painted in surprise. Tabby squeezed him, face pressed into his chest.

Moon’s hands slowly moved to hug her back, hold melting into something closer as he realized she was genuine.

“…Starlight?” His voice was hardly over a whispering rasp.

“Hm?” She didn’t move.

He made a swallowing sound before speaking, “I…am dangerous..”

Tabby made a snorting sound, looking up without breaking contact. “You and every other man.” She said so matter of fact. There was something hidden and dark woven into the words, it made a pang shoot through Moon’s chest.

He held her a bit tighter.

Moon listened to the pittering of rain on the windows, optics trained on Tabitha’s sleeping form.

He was recording her, like he did most nights, this time it was from a place of growing concern. His sharp toothed smile had fallen, head tilting to the side. With every exhale her breath wheezed from her lips, sounding like a failing voicebox in a way.

M: ….Sun?

S: Yes?

M: She’s wheezing when she breathes.

S: How long has that been happening?

M: For a while…but it’s been getting worse the last three nights. Has she been coughing or anything during your time?

S: A bit, yea.

M: And you think that’s ok??

S: Well no! But I figured it’s from the fire?

M: shit…

S: Don’t.

M: I can say whatever I want now, tightass.

S: You’re so immature.

M: Back to the real issue. I’m sending the recordings of her sleeping from the last few nights to you. When should this be brought up as a problem?

S: She's very adamant about not wanting to see a doctor. I’ll review the tapes and look through our files but we really only have general first aid…

M: uhhhg…

S: ?

M: We are useless…

S: No! I’ll think of something!

M: Sure…

The room was illuminated for a split second, not long enough to elicit a transformation but enough to make the animatronic tense. Rolling thunder followed, making Tabby stir.

“Moon?” Her voice was thick with sleep. The glow of his optics emanated from the corner, stone still.

She’d started to get used to his nightly presence, it spooking her less and less every time.

Lighting cracked outside again, making her jump. When her attention went back to Moon his head was turned 180 degrees, regarding her silently.

Thunder rolled overhead, drawing a wince from her.

“Scared?” His voice rasped.

“I didn’t used to be.” She admitted softly.

Soft clicking was audible as his head smoothly rotated back.

“Little kitten, scared of rain and thunder.” He jeered, smile sharp.

She rolled onto her side, pulling the blankets closer as another crash of thunder rattled the windows. “Come here?” She reached out, voice a soft question.

His smile faltered, blinking at the offered hand. Had he had eyebrows they surely would have been furrowed.

After a moment of stalemate she withdrew her hand in defeat. Feeling foolish as she rolled the opposite way, no longer facing him.

The bed suddenly creaked with added weight, Tabby sitting up, surprised. Moon sat on the edge, watching her. She hadn’t heard him move over the pounding of rain.  A smile reached her face, scooting over to give him more room. She patted the space beside her as if he were a cat.

Moon moved slowly, as if the bed itself would break from under him. Ever so carefully, he laid down beside her, still as a board as his faceplate pointed to the ceiling.

Tabby got comfortable, her modest bed putting her along his side. An optic was trained on her, glowing iris tilted to the side as far as it’d go so not to move his head.

She watched him back, cuddling into her blankets.

“Sleep.” He finally instructed, sensing her heartbeat lowering.

Her eyes were growing heavy before he’d spoken, not needing any persuasion.

“Thank you.” She murmured, sleep overtaking her.

He didn’t respond, but remained there until morning.

~

“Tea?” Tabby questioned, looking down at the hot cup before her.

“Yes!” Sun smiled widely before turning to pack her a lunch for the day.

“But why tea?” She pressed, used to coffee.

“It’s good for you.” Sun answered simply, turning his faceplate only slightly away from his task.

She sipped the hot liquid, grimacing at the herbal taste. Just as it started to sooth her scratching throat a cough rattled through her. Tabby had to quickly sit the cup down, hacking into a paper towel.

Sun watched, concern painted over his features. “Maybe take the day off, Sunshine?” He ventured, “Take it easy?”

She shook her head, catching her breath. Finally able to talk, she argued, “I’m fine, just a little cough.”

Sun made a sound, optics narrowed.

Her face grew stern, pointing at him, “Don’t you scan me!”

His optics narrowed further as she voiced her irritation more loudly.

“Hmmmmm.”

“So what’s so wrong with me Dr. Smartypants?” She asked sarcastically.

“That’s Mr Dr. Smartypants, thank you!” He corrected offendedly, wilting to answer more seriously, “And I don’t…know…”

Tabby snorted, “See, I’m fine.”

“My scans are for general health concerns.” He informed, reaching over to grab the soiled paper towel from the counter. His voice became earnest as he opened the towel, revealing a green sheen to the mucus, “But that color isn’t ‘fine’.”

“Gross.” Tabby grimaced again, pushing him away.

“Mhm.” He huffed, balling up the paper towel before disposing of it.

“I’ll take some allergy meds before I leave.” She shrugged, heading towards the bathroom to finish up.

That night Moon could hear her coughing from her office, face falling with worry. He wandered in, seeing her wrapped up tightly in a blanket.

He padded closer, realizing her desk held a mountain of used tissues and her face was red.

“Sick.” Moon frowned, hand coming up to feel her forehead.

Tabby made an upset sound but didn’t move away from his touch.

Moon’s frown deepened, “Fever.”

She didn’t fight him as he urged her to her feet, leading her to the bedroom. Moon helped her into bed, sitting next to her protectively.

“I don’t work this weekend…I’ll just rest and get better.” Tabby sighed.

Moon didn’t look convinced, standing to leave the room for a moment. He returned with medicine and a glass of water.

 He resumed his place beside her, helping her sit up to take the medicine.

She cuddled up beside him, needing extra pillows to keep her head elevated. Moon reached out, brushing away her bangs from her face. Tabby blinked up at him.

“Pretty.” He smiled, voice scratchy, “Pretty Star.”

She gave a weak giggle, “I look so gross right now, I’m sick.” She said the words like facts, but Moon looked at her in full belief of his previous statement.

He ran his fingers through her hair again, smoothing it back, eyes half lidded. “Still pretty.” He murmured.

Tabby feebly smiled, easing into the contact as sleep threatened her. She reached up, taking his hand. Moon froze, optics widening. Tilting her head up a bit, she softly pressed her lips to the back of his hand, still feeling the cracks under the silicone.

Moon’s fans kicked up as she let him go, relaxing into bed. He stayed beside her.

As she fell into a fitful sleep from the coughing Moon filed away the sounds of her breathing: labored, with a strained wheezing sound to follow.

The first day of the weekend, Tabby spent most of it in-front of the computer, hacking into tissues and drinking the many cups of tea Sun would bring. The medicine eventually couldn’t soothe her symptoms, and by the second day she didn’t leave her bed…

“Here, you need to eat.” Sun helped her sit up, carefully placing the tray before her. Tabby blinked down into a hot bowl of soup.

“We didn’t have soup.” She wondered, looking up at him.

“I made it.” He answered gently with a soft smile.

She blew on a spoonful, trying it. Her face brightened as much as her poor state would allow, gushing, “It’s so good!”

Sun continued to smile, sitting on the edge of the bed. There was a tight worry hidden under the smile, eyes betraying him.

He watched her eat, relieved she still had an appetite.

When she couldn’t take another bite, exhaustion taking over again, she lay back on the bed. Sun moved the tray to the floor, shifting back to tuck her in.

Her breathing came out with little wheezes, dark circles under her eyes.

“The soup was so good.” She smiled weakly, trying to look at him. Her eyes were so heavy, “You are getting good at cooking.”

Sun reached out, caressing her cheek, gently moving to smooth back her hair. The touch was loving, soothing Tabby to close her eyes and rest. Sun repeated the movement, his concern finally cracking over his face when she was asleep.

“She’s getting worse…” he whispered.

Moon wasn’t as in practice as Sun with such matters, although neither truly had any direct experience with sickness. He stayed by her side constantly, despite that.

He lowered his temperature in an effort to soothe her fever, causing his systems to slow and become sluggish. Having to enter into a partial rest mode, he lay beside her with a cool hand over her forehead.

The morning brought another issue: she was scheduled to work.

Sun scanned her, seeing her vitals were even lower. There’d be no way she could go in, and he wasn’t even sure if she could even make the call herself. The sickness was starting to cause small bouts of delirium to weed into her.

Sun paced, phone held up to the side of his faceplate, waiting as it rang.

“Yes, Hello.”

“I’m calling for Tabitha Penn…..Yes.”

“She will not be able to come in today…..Yes……Yes, I apologize.”

Sun spoke to the other on the phone, keeping a professional tone:

“She is very ill, and has a high temperature….yes.”

“Who am I?” He echoed the question, mind racing for a moment. He glanced at the bed, Tabby seemingly asleep.

“This,” he lied, “This is her husband….Yes. I apologize again for this inconvenience.”

“Thank you for the understanding.”

“I will…thank you.” He sighed, hanging up the phone.

Sun closed his optics, worry thick in his rigid posture. As he tapped the phone against his faceplate in thought a sound roused him. He blinked, turning back towards the bed.

Tabby smiled weakly to him.

“Hey starlight.” He came to the bedside, kneeling down, “I called work for you, you just rest. Everything is taken care of.”

“You said you were my husband.” Her voice slurred, fever causing slight delirium to fog her mind.

Sun started to apologize but her next words stuck him silent.

“I’m your wife.” She giggled, “That means you like me.”

“I like you.” He nodded, voice soft. He smoothed her hair from her face adding, “And you are very sick.”

“I like you too.” She reached out, taking the sleeve of his hoodie in a weak hold, “You are so nice and funny. I’ll be your wife. It’s ok.”

Sun pet her gently, “You are just sick. You need to rest.” He urged.

She was already nodding off from a mixture of the medication and his soothing touch, murmuring, “Even when I’m not sick.”

“Hm?”

“I’ll love you.” She whispered.

Sun’s hand froze, optics widening. Tabby was out, wheezing breathing deepening.

She’s just sick….

He told himself, leaning forward to softly press the mouth of his faceplate to her forehead.

Things didn’t improve in the night. Moon laid beside her, playing soft tunes on his music box, unsure of what else to do as she drifted in and out of consciousness.

By the morning she stopped waking up entirely.

“She’s so much worse.” Sun held his faceplate, “We have to do something.”

He looked towards her phone, hearing Moon protest in his head.

“We don’t have a choice, she needs help.” Sun argued, moving towards the phone.

“Arav….It’s Sun.”

“Please…We wouldn’t have contacted you unless it was an emergency…..It’s Tabitha.”

“She’s…she’s very sick.” Sun explained, “We can’t drive…please can you take her to a hospital…please. We didn’t know who to call.”

“Yes…”

“Thank you, thank you, thank you.” He chanted, relief heavy in his tone.

Arav was there within the hour, the seriousness of the situation truly crushing him when Sun showed him to Tabby’s room.

Sun helped him get her down to his car, careful to retract his rays and keep his hood up. As he placed her in the seat, he squeezed her hand, heart breaking he couldn’t go with her.

He stayed on the sidewalk until the car was long out of sight, feeling useless…

~

“It’s a bacterial infection in her lungs. She has to stay overnight but if she’s awake by tomorrow then she should be able to come home with antibiotics.” Arav explained, “Can you take care of that when she’s back?”

“Yes, we can take care of all of that.” Sun nodded.

“They are giving her fluids right now, I’ll let you know if I find anything out.” The man promised. He had stopped by the apartment on his way home from the hospital. Still not fully understanding the depths of the animatronic’s personhood, the fact they called him alone earned more respect in his mind.

“Thank you….” Sun looked down, “Thank you for helping her.”

“Tabby has been a good friend…in her own way.” Arav shrugged, “I’ll do what I can.”

 

The silence in the apartment was deafening. All tasks quickly completed and the cage-like area that was their new boundaries meticulously cleaned without anyone flesh and bone to make any messes. Sun reverted back to the corner, curling in on himself and forcing a partial rest mode. He kept certain systems on alert, for any calls or news.

Moon fared no better, wandering from room to room aimlessly in the pitch darkness. He listened to the muffled sounds of other tenets, scratching at the places the baseboards met the walls. If Sun felt restless then he was utterly agitated.

On the second day, they finally got news: she was coming home.

Sun saw Arav’s car pull along the street in front of the apartment, almost tripping over himself to run out onto the balcony. He watched him go around, opening up the side door, Sun began to flap his hands excitedly with the first little flash of pink hair.

Tabby walked out onto the sidewalk, a bit shaky but standing on her own.

Sun about fell off the balcony as he leaned over the edge, calling out happily, “Star! Starlight! Staaar!” Waving like mad.

“I think someone missed you.” Arav chuckled, grabbing her bag from the back seat.

“Oooh I don’t know…” she jested to Arav, watching Sun flap his arms wildly to be seen.

“Now she has to take these twice a day with food and this one once a day with water.” Arav instructed, showing each pill bottle respectively. He pulled out a discharge pamphlet with even more detailed information.

“Got it!” Sun gave him a thumbs up, smile never wavering.

Arav was careful to make sure Tabby was in the bathroom before speaking again, “She asked for you, you know?”

Sun tilted his head, curiously.

“Yea…” Arav admitted, “Quite a few times. But I don’t think she remembers much. She had that infection for a while.”

The animatronic nodded, mirth faded a bit.

“But…she was in pretty good condition all things considered.” He sighed, eyes drifted to the closed bathroom door. True concern burner in his dark eyes, before he looked back to Sun, “Keep it up, I guess. Taking care of her.”

“It’s our job.” Sun smiled.

Arav nodded, looking worn out. He said quick goodbyes, declining to wait for Tabby, citing that she needed rest.

Sun looked at the door long after it closed, something in his chest feeling both heavy and light at the same time. He didn’t break out of his trance until the bathroom door clicked.

“We missed you so so so so much!” Sun chanted as he hugged her tightly.

“Careful.” She warned gently, making him quickly loosen his hold.

Sun apologized profusely, moving to look her over. She took off her coat, revealing some heavy bruising in the crook of her arms from previous ivs. Tabby gave a weak smile as Sun began to fret over her anew.

“Sun.” She sighed, when he didn’t hear her over himself she said a bit more pointed, “Sun!”

“Oh, sorry.” He took a step back, worrying his hands together.

“It’s ok.” She soothed, but added, “I’m gonna go lay down though, okay big guy?”

He jumped a bit with realization, “Yes, yes, yes….of course.”

He followed right on her heels as she went into her bedroom, head clicking back and forth. Tabby placed her phone on the nightstand, taking care to plug it in before sitting on the bed. She started taking off her shoes and long socks, pausing after to look up at Sun.

His idle swaying stopped in its tracks.

“Could you…turn around for a second?” She asked, a blush to her cheeks.

“Oh!” He jolted in realization. Never one to do anything in half measures, he spun around on the tips of his toes, crouching slightly and covering his eyes showily. The pose was reminiscent of what he would do when playing hide and seek. It made Tabby crack a small smile with amusement. She stood, turning her back to him, just to be sure, peeling off her clothes. There was already a set of pajamas ready on her bed for her, she thankfully took them.

Hearing a little click of gears she warned, “No peeking.”

The clink was quickly echoed as he moved back to the original position.

Finally dressed she crawled into bed, sighing, “Ok.”

Sun instantly jumped to attention, shifting to look at her. He came up to the bedside, reaching out to smooth down her hair.

Tabby leaned into the contact like a cat, closing her eyes a bit. Her body ached, exhaustion tugging at her mind.

“Sun?” She murmured.

“Yes, Sunshine?” He smiled.

Tabby shifted closer to the wall, out of his reach. Sun tilted his head, face a mixture of hurt and confusion.

It was short lived as Tabby patted the newly opened spot in the bed, asking a bit bashfully, “Would you want to cuddle, maybe?”

Not needing to be asked twice, Sun instantly crawled into the bed beside her. His movements were eager as he got comfortable beside her. Unlike Moon, Sun took no time before shifting to cuddle her, pulling Tabby close to his chest.

He was incredibly warm, heat radiating from his metal exoskeleton. Tabby relaxed into him, the warmth a soothing balm to her aching body. She could hear his fans whirling loudly, tiredness threatening to drag her under.

Sun resumed his petting, the movements soothing her into sleep easily. Once she was out he pulled her even closer, curling a bit protectively around her. His faceplate pressed into the crown of her head, eyes closing happily.

[wilanserulia]

FFXIV Write 2024 - Prompt 29 - Free day

Wilan didn’t really like tea. It didn’t disgust him or anything, he just couldn’t figure out what the fuss was about. Different blends, exotic aromas, floral flavors, fruity tastes... he couldn’t tell any of that apart, everything boiling down to hot leaf water to him. Despite that he had learned to tolerate tea over the years, to learn to perform its unnecessarily complex ceremonies, to display proper appreciation for its supposed qualities in the proper way, as it was expected from somebody of his status. His mentor, X'rhun Tia, had made sure that he would, that he understood that personal tastes matter little when it comes to paying proper respect to whoever might be offering you a cup of tea.

He figured he could accept it. Express a preference for a specific brew as if he could tell them apart, and then spend improbably articulated words to express his appreciation and praise the tea’s many qualities, which he had carefully memorized for a few specific brews. It would only be respectful for an individual as exceptional as his host, he thought. It would only be a completely fabricated reaction. If he was there, if he had accepted that pending invitation, was because he realized still carried conflicting feelings within his chest, and there were precious few people he could discuss such things with. He would have to take his mask off if he wanted to have a meaningful conversation on the subject. “Thank you, but I’m not particularly fond of tea.” He finally replied, his voice warm and honest. “Could I maybe inconvenience you for a cup of warm cocoa instead?”

Even through his own mask, surprise was evident on his interlocutor’s face. But only a moment later his gaze turned to the diminutive being in their attendance. He spoke words he couldn’t recognize, but the intent behind them resonated clearly within his soul. “Brewingway, can this be arranged?” “In the blink of an eye!” the loporrit proudly declared. “A cup of hot cocoa, coming right up!” The Watcher seemed to relax at the loporrit’s reassurance, and bowed his head in a small nod of appreciation. Wilan considered he was probably the first guest this ancient being entertained in probably literal millennia, taking residence in such an astronomically remote location as he did, and he was as nervous of providing a pleasant experience as he was. He felt the corners of his mouth lift up in a warm smile.

“Once again I must express my gratitude for accepting my invitation. I’m afraid, however, I’ll be a poor conversation companion. The world I used to know is long gone, and a watcher I may be but I only have but a fleeting understanding of yours.” “On the contrary,” Wilan reassures him “I confess that reminiscing about a time before time is precisely what I was looking forward to today.” If he didn’t know better, Wilan could have sword a jolt of trepidation stirred the Watcher’s relaxed composure. He was under no illusion about the nature of his host; he was but a shadow, a construct in the shape of somebody Venat used to know and trust, and the soul he resembled had long ago sacrificed itself to make Hydaelyn manifest. He had assumed he wasn’t unlike a machine in a sense, following the path traced by its metaphysical cogs without room for emotions, but his recent experiences at the edge of the Universe had made him reconsider the notion. He had to wonder: could the watcher feel loneliness, up here on the moon? Eon after eon, witnessing the world change, unable to influence it in any meaningful way…? He figured it’d cost him nothing to give him another smile. “I mean, how can you even begin to explain to anybody that you're feeling so deeply nostalgic for a time and a place you never lived in? That your heart aches under the weight of memories it cannot even recall? Sometimes it feels as clear as a half-remembered dream, or a verse of a song you heard as a kid, and you just can’t recall the rest of the melody.”

From behind his candid mask, a murmur of comprehension reverberated in that tower. “Ah. The intangible pain you speak of is precisely why souls are cleansed of their memories in the gentle embrace of the Aetherial Sea, as part of the never-ending cycle of birth, death and rebirth. The burden of past lives can prove too much to bear for newborn souls.” the quiet figure said, sharing freely of his wisdom, right as Brewingway came back pushing a cart. He handed a cup of warm cocoa to Wilan, bowed, and left. “And... to be fair, mine did.” he agreed. “Time and time again, I imagine. From what I understand, souls can be reborn dozens, maybe hundreds of times. And it’s been a long time since that age before History.” “Indeed. Yet just as surely, you understand strong emotion can leave an impression on the soul himself. You may go through your entire life, never realizing they’re there at all. I trust you are familiar with one such example, I’m given to understand you people of Etheirys refer to it as the Echo. An apt name.” The watcher paused, allowing Wilan time to taste his chocolate while still hot. “Yet, in a quite uncommon turn of event, you came in contact with those from our time. And...” he seemed to ponder how to best communicate the idea “while their presence cannot awaken memories you no longer possess, they make you aware of the... hole where they should be. The negative space around that impression.”

Wilan considered his words. “Is that why, when I met Emet-Selch... even though he was my enemy, even though I had never met the man before...” his words trailed off, struggling to give shape to the thoughts. “...you were overcome by nostalgia?” the ancient being offered. “Hm, yes. I suppose.” Wilan sipped more of his cocoa. “And... most importantly, it felt like he and I had a bond. Like I could trust him. Like we were... friends. Even though we were clearly not.” The watcher tilted his head. A gesture of commiseration more than confusion. “It did not make you stay your hand, when the hour came.” “It didn’t.” Wilan agreed, matter-of-fact. “But... it certainly made everything harder. Made it feel more... tragic. In a sense, I suppose he felt the same way. “What do you mean?” Wilan held his cup in his hands, feeling its warmth through his palms.

“I don’t condone of Emet-Selch’s methods. I certainly don’t condone of his reasons. But below it all, I felt a... a profound sadness. He was clinging on to dreams of a time long gone, a memory that wouldn’t return to him no matter how many people he sacrificed. Yet somehow, underneath all the madness... he just felt like a lonely man who just wanted to meet his friends again.” The watcher regarded him quietly. “And yet you killed him.” There was no accusation or shame in his word, no celebration or elation. Just stating the next step in their conversation. Wilan blinked a tear from one of his eyes. “At the end of everything, it was a matter of survival. And... not simply my survival.” He idly turned the rest of his cocoa with his spoon. “It was a contest between his view of the future against mine. Ours. His attempt at reviving a ghost of a dead civilization against our claim to life, to inhabit the world we were born in.” He sighed, and continued only after a long moment of silence. “I wish there could have been a way for our goals to be compatible, but they weren’t. He understood it, in that moment, and so did I. And the worst part is...” His words trailed off, but the silent regard of the watcher encouraged him to continue. “I think... somewhere... behind it all, he wanted it to end. He couldn’t abandon his mission, change his course, he’d feel like he betrayed the trust his friends placed in him. But if he tried everything he could and failed, then...” “Do you think you offered him peace, then?” Wilan shook his head. “I don’t know. I’m not so arrogant as to decide what is right. What is good.” “In that, you show wisdom.” the Watcher commented. “Ask a thousand souls what is right and good, and you shall receive a thousand answers.” Wilan looked up at him. “I offer none.” he added, anticipating his thoughts. “My role is... was impartial.”

“Still, when he looked at me... The disdain in his eyes...” Wilan touched his chest with the palm of his hand. “It was like he expected to see someone else. Like he was almost offended that I was walking around in his soul.” “Azem.” the Watcher supplied. Wilan nodded.

“I am, well... my own person. I can’t imagine being somebody else, I’ve always been just me.” Again the watcher regarded him quietly, encouraging to follow his train of thoughts. He might have been out of practice when it came to conversation, but he was still a good listener. “And yet... Emet-Selch saw enough in me of his friend, Azem, to recognize me as him. As... his soul, at least.” Wilan said. “And... Hythlodaeus, too, even if he was far less judgmental of the current shape of my soul.” He chuckled under his breath as he recalled the memory, with an affection that maybe wasn’t entirely his own. “’My new old friend’, he called me.” “The two of them were adepts at recognizing souls.” the ancient man pointed out. “Even among our people.” “Maybe.” Wilan stared into his now empty cup. “But even Venat felt in me a kindred spirit. She, too, used to sit on the Seat of Azem, like I also...” he corrected himself before finishing the sentence. “Like my soul used to be, in another life. She even commented about my... ‘traveler’s heart’, as she called it.” He sighed. Talking about these things made him feel better, even if he wasn’t getting many answers. Somehow it helped them putting order in his thoughts. “And then, well, there’s the matter of Ardbert. My reflection, from the First. He reminded me of myself ever since the first time we met. How we approached life similarly. How we tend to enjoy similar things.” After a moment of silence he also added. “How we fell into the same pitfalls...”

“It seems clear the person of Azem occupies a lot of your thoughts.” the Watcher concluded. “I suppose.” he looked up at him with a vague smile. He dug into his pocket, and pulled out the elegant orange crystal that bore his mark, its cut perfect and immaculate. The watcher leaned forward on his chair, but it was after a few moments that he spoke. “I have not known the Azem you speak of. The Azem that bears your soul. But I have known much of him.” he said gravely. “Both from the echoes of his actions, and from everything that Venat told me of him.” Wilan’s chest suddenly felt very heavy. “I can tell you about him, shall you desire it.” the Watcher offered, solemnly. “I can describe to you the shape and the color of his soul. I can even teach you how to access the memories contained in that crystal of amber that bears his mark.” Silence echoed loudly in that tower on the moon.

He had never had the answers this close. He had never imagined he could have attained any answers at all. Not now that none of the ancients drew breath. His heart was beating hard in his chest, as he unexpectedly found himself at the precipice of this monumental decision. He could learn all there was to know about Azem, right then and there. And he could never unlearn it.

The Watcher didn’t dare disturb his guest as he thought the decision through. He was aware of what it implied. He wouldn’t deny him his chance, but he hoped he’d choose wisely. Finally, he looked up. “Ever since I was a child, my heart has been aching to know what lies beyond the horizon.” he said. “I’ve always enjoyed traveling, exploring, seeing the world, knowing its people. I had always thought that to be... me. Because, who else would I be?” He leaned back on his chair, puffing out a breath. “But... ever since I found out about Azem, and the Seat of the Traveler, I... haven’t been so sure.” The watcher’s gaze was fixed on him. “And so I have to wonder...” Wilan continued “How much is who I am... me, and how much is the pre-disposition of my soul? Azem and I, we clearly share a soul, but we’re not the same person. Emet-Selch made that abundantly clear. Ardbert and I, we’re so similar in so many aspects, and yet fundamentally different.” He fell quiet, but the Watcher knew his reasoning wasn’t yet over. He kept quiet and regarded him, waiting for him to put order in his thoughts. “And when Amon learned about Fandaniel, he rejected that past version of himself completely. It probably drove him closer to madness.” He shuddered. “Can I be sure I won’t react the same way?” A long, non-committal murmur was all the feedback that the Watcher gave him. But he didn’t need to do any more, Wilan’s heart was set now.

He lifted his head, looked straight into the watcher’s masked face. “I don’t want to live in the shadow of who my soul used to be.” he declared. “Don’t want to compare myself to his achievements, and come up short. Don’t want to weight my morals against his, every decision I take against that he would have taken.” He took in a long breath before continuing, clenching the Crystal in the palm of his hand. “Emet-Selch entrusted the Seat of the Traveler to me. To me, personally, not to his old friend Azem. To me, as a representative of the new life on Hydaelyn. And that’s who I want to be.” “So you refuse my offer?” the Watcher asked, his voice neutral, his tone flat. Wilan nodded, and smiled sincerely. “Yes, I thank you deeply for the opportunity, but I want to be my own person, at least while my time on Hydaelyn lasts.” The ancient being regarded him solemnly, and then a miniscule sagging in his posture communicated to Wilan a profound sense of relief. “Wery well. Shall we discuss something else, instead? How about your time in Elpis, perhaps?”

[bloodstuddedpearl]

@hootenannyskeleton

Ill respond in post form.

Men arent inherently evil, but society configuration and thousands of years of female oppression, has made them view women as inferior beings even after liberation in most countries. A chromosome pairing wont make you evil. Thats not what we believe in. So much of the government/police/every aspect of control is given to men that heinous crimes committed by men, large or small are unpunished under the law because the person judging them is also a male.

MASSIVE TW. name me a case, an incedent thats even half as bad as this case- https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Murder_of_Junko_Furuta#:~:text=Junko%20Furuta%20(Japanese%3A%20%E5%8F%A4%E7%94%B0%20%E9%A0%86%E5%AD%90,raped%2C%20tortured%20and%20subsequently%20murdered.

name me something as bad as this- https://youtu.be/aVEK9bJZl7s?si=fsL5jRZLXre25qSB

name me 5 women to have acid attacked men.

there is a lot of leniency for men in regards to punishment. They are not inherently bad but an assumed superior sense of self and better living conditions in most of the world, and leniency in regards to bad behavior creates evil.

Nah i js debate in second person my bad homie. nyways yeah, I went a bit hardcore on trans people, because thats what YOU wanted to talk about. You mentioned trans ideology- "So I read. I read why people don't feel their body aligns with their mind, read their stories, their history, and as I read, I began to understand" from this point onwards everything you said was abt trans ppl. and the reason is i dont have much of an issue with transmasculine people, other than the fact a lot of them force gay men to be attracted to them. The space you get on comment sections is small, so I wanted to keep it to the point of what bothers me the most. Transmasculine people who hurt/coerce men are evil. Aside from those, I dont care about them. Ill help them if they want insight on detransition (i was a trans guy- not transmasculine but a trans guy for 1.5 yrs). And also they appropriate biological factors of men which is creepy as fuck. The reason Ion care about trans men that much is because they arent raping men and demanding access to mens prisons. the threat level isnt the same.

And im not arguing they are corrupting divine femininity. Im saying that despite trans women knowing what a woman is, and knowing that they and everyone they now emerged from one, and still pretending that they can grapple into it through accessible means is rude. The power to create life is divine, and again, that isnt to say women HAVE to bear children, ion want kids, but I wont undermine the strength to create life. My point lied in the course that trans women have their very existence as prove that they arent what they claim they are. It was a reasoning. and if you saw it, my last comment was to explain that women aint baby making machines. ill copy paste it here "and it may seem like im saying a woman must have kids, im not. Woman is a female. It isnt to say she must use her reproductive organs, they are just her configuration that make her a part of the female sex identified as women. Das it. Being a girl is the smallest part of me in terms of neutrality, its just a coin flip at birth. But it has gotten me discrimination through societal sexism. And with this blog I aim to talk about it. Ion want kids myself."

Its truly neutral and im claiming no superiority to men, im just celebrating the power of creation of life. and how every cell of my body, the heart beneath my skin was crafted by my mother.

state of something completely physiological cannot be an idea. you cannot imagine the feeling of possessing an organ you don't have. And cool, chromosome disorders exist, and to say a chromosome disorder, 1 in 80,000 means that men r women and women are men, is funny. very insightful of you! And a sex anomaly with 150 recorded cases is enough to prove that trans people, who dont have that disorder, are women. And dont devalue and use intersex people as pawns. Sex is binary but if a disorder is involved, it can be presented in variations. And people with mullerian duct are still classified as men regardless of the condition.

nuh uh!! He is not intended to create large gametes because he has external male genitalia. again sex anomalies exist, but within the binary. humans have a range of different disorders but we are still a sexually dimorphic species.

"A 38-year-old man was found to have a uterus, fallopian tubes, and a gonad in the left hernial sac during herniorrhaphy. The patient developed a left scrotal sac swelling postoperatively.

On physical examination, the right scrotal sac was empty. The left scrotal sac appeared boggy. The patient was phenotypically male, with male pattern of external genitalia and secondary sexual characteristics. The past history included primary infertility."

so disrespectful to use a disorder as confirmation of fantasy. Stop using intersex people as pawns.

"if one group has more rights doesnt mean the other will get less" baby. do you hear yourself? only one gender had the right to inherit property, only one gender had the right to sell the other. "Legally, her husband could demand that his wife’s lover pay him a large amount of money for having sexual relations with his wife, a right she lacked since courts didn’t allow wives to sue their husbands for adultery. Wife sales were a way to sidestep that risk."

only one gender had the right to education before the 1800's. only one gender had the right to work before the 1900s.

and what im saying is trans rights have become a large focus of funding and care of liberal feminism etc.

not all anti trans people are terfs for gods sake. and glad you brought up nazis!

receipts on your end, please. name terf nazis. I am against conservatives and nazis. Conservatives fucking suck. the enemy of my enemy is not my friend.

ion agree w that saying homeboy. trans people are people ARE the regressive group. male supremacy is when you oppress women for thousands of years for their biology and now turn around and say that our biology is a meaningless factor of their definition and can be morphed into

estrogen in males can cause- https://www.reddit.com/r/Transmedical/comments/1aw0nsg/my_doctor_told_me_my_tumor_was_most_likely_from/

testosterone in women can cause- https://austinurogynecology.com/blog/do-you-have-an-enlarged-clitoris-from-testosterone-replacement-therapy/

men can be feminine, and implying that that femininity means that they need to transition into women is regressive. masculine women having to transition into men for their masculinity is regressive. being a man or a woman is just physiological and thats it. its 100% neutral and means nothing in perspective. its society that said if one has a vagina they need to be a submissive home decoration. no parts/biology dictates personhood. a man can do anything and everything he wants and he will still be a man. a woman can do anything and everything she wants and she will still be a woman. We are all sentient beings with our biology as the least defining part of us, but to say that it means nothing in our political and social classification is unintelligent.

@hootenannyskeleton

[osakanone]

Interview w/ Floodlight

Floodlight asked me interview questions out of the blue on discord, so I'm reposting it here. Its a bit pompus I know but I had a moment of "oh this isn't stuff everybody knows!" and thought it might be good to upload it. The first half seemed to be asking me questions about my sensibilities which I don't think is very interesting, but I think discussing mechanical and game design, that was really interesting. Its a little bit embarrassing to post this but I think, its good to do things which embarrass you to get out of your shell a little, so I'll post it.

What kind of mecha do you like?

I like lots of kinds of mecha, but I tend to lean towards designs which have a lot of dexterity and expression. I'm a big fan of highly mobile forms, and things which move swiftly, or beautifully. I also really like designs with intricate mechanisms and lots of moving parts, which hide their complexity -- transformation gimmicks, things which fold neatly. Forms which also conceal a relationship with a pilot too: A cockpit is one thing, but a form which folds around a pilot like armour means as the pilot moves so does the robot, and synchronizing those things is really appealing from a storytelling standpoint. In terms of personal machines...

Do you like other kinds of machines too?

I'm deeply interested in things like fighter-planes, and more practical landborn robots which aren't humanoid. I'm also deeply enamored with the vehicle design of Luigi Colani and those kinds of futuristic shapes.

From my observations, you seem to have a preference for sleek, semi-organic mecha. Am I mostly correct in my assumption?

Yes.

Can you tell me more about that style, what it's called, and why you like it?

I'm not really sure if it has a formal name but internally I think of them as being phasmid or insect-like, akin to Japanese fighting-spiders which I think was a big influence on work like Dunbine, and is very visible in Mr. Miyatake and also Mr. Nagano's work.

Also, what do you think about other styles of mecha (e.g., tank-like, stylized like 40K, old-school Okawara/Izubuchi, etc.)?

Hmm... I think there's a trend on artstation that putting short legs where tracks would go on a tank constitutes a functioning robot and I don't agree since the stride or walking wouldn't make any kind of physical sense. Tanks which account for this, and create legs -- as we see in Mr. Izubuchi's work or Mr. Kawamori's work are good, I think. Mr. Okawara is really important from a historical standpoint, but I felt for a long time, "he's making people in costumes" and this gave me a sour feeling. Later, I had the epiphany of "oh, of course, the robot is a character even if the audience doesn't realise it!" and that was a really enlightening moment where I really understood the charm of his work. Mr. Izubuchi I think, has a great understanding of scale and how humans relate to machines. I also have a soft-spot for forms with long legs capable of great leaps and strides, so I find that very charming too.

What do you believe constitutes a good vehicle design? From an artistic POV, and also from a technical one.

Huhhh... A vehicle first and foremost is given a mission, or a problem it needs to solve, and it is formed by a history of attempts to solve problems. I think, if we want a vehicle which has legs, a situation has to exist where legs are the optimal choice. You're not going to get legs which can walk immediately. By this, I mean, look at things like aircraft landing-gear or the landing-struts on the moon lander trainer. They're vehicles which transition domains: I think transitioning domains and climbing on wheels will come first because they're easier solves than walking -- then walking. This would be represented in the design of the vehicle -- with wheels coming first, not second, you knows? From an artistic standpoint, you need to make something which is memorable, but also recognizable which is pretty difficult. All of design is a language of known forms. If you use too many of them, your work disappears. If you use too few of them, nobody knows what they're looking at. Striking a balance is essential. Likewise, then there's the second problem of making sure people understand what is happening. If you can balance all three, I think you can have an interesting design.

What has been your experience with game development?

I'd wanted to make a game from being very young, and kept lots of notes on what I wanted from film of all things, and over time streamlined as I learned what was reasonable, and what was not. I initially got my start modding a game called Hellbender, and another called Hardwar on Windows 95. This then became writing shader-mods for X68000 games, and playing with different development tools, and doing some QA testing for games which made it to Steam, one in 2013, 2014, one in 2016. I distinctly remember having a falling out with the lead designer of the 2013 game when they refused to fix something that crippled the movement feel of the game in one of the robot's modes, and thinking, "I should commit to learning from how these projects succeed and fail so I can do my own thing" -- and to this day looking at all three I can still see unsolved problems which make me a little sad. Around seven years ago I started teaching myself Unreal and put together a server. I'm very private with my own work and view it mainly as exploratory, and what I like to do is share what I learn with other game designers working on their own projects. Truth be told, I'm actually a little scared of the public, and of public opinion so I'm not even really sure if I'll ever put anything out that's available outside of the server.

For young adolescents like myself, do you have any general advice or tips for how we can prepare for the time we do actual gamedev?

Realize that you can't do everything all by yourself, and that if you're making a game, a person HAS to make everything which appears in the game. You can't just do the parts you're interested in or the parts your good at, and neglect the rest that you don't know how to do, or your project will be unpresentable to others and they won't see the good in what you're doing, and rightly so. Also be braver than me, haha. Game development also takes bravery!

ACE COMBAT

Have you ever encountered the Ace Combat series? What are your thoughts on it?

I think Ace Combat is a pretty neat series, though I feel there's a sense of anxiety on the developers part of how to transition an arcade action gameplay model based in things like score and mission outcome in an era where a lot of people are demanding games which exist to relax or soothe players. The solution they settled on is to treat the player as some sort of god for their accomplishments, which I think rings kind of sour and strange the later into the series you go, compromising the experience of the world. I think what's needed is to reconsider how to make score and outcome something a player cares about again. Zero, and Electrosphere are my favourites. I've been meaning to replay Shattered Skies recently, on Argonbolt's recommendation.

How would you explain the flight mechanics in Ace Combat?

You usually have a finite turn-rate, and banking geometry (eg, you roll and pitch) and you're thinking about positioning relative to something else which is also moving. This means you have to think about relative future positions, so you can turn to keep an opponent ahead of you. Try to imagine racing on a track, except the goal is to finish last not first by staying in the back, and the entire sky is your track so people can sneak up on you. You don't really gain or lose velocity or altitude the way real planes do, and you turn much harder than they do for the sake of making manoeuvring near the ground and ground-attack missions easier for players, and to increase the pace of combat. As the games go on, the air combat becomes less challenging, and the mission combat becomes more set-pieced, and the missions themselves longer I think which is a trend we see in game design overall -- where player-controllers get simpler or the means to make them do the thing you want gets simpler and the mission and world design begins to take more and more priority. I think this is difficult in a flight game, since everything is so far away, three dimensional, and fast.

How does it compare to other flight games?

I mean it depends. I think, AC succeeds at what an action game needs, which is moment to moment action where something is always happening. There's this idea in radio announcement called "corpsing" where if the line goes quiet, you can be fined by the folks you lease the wavelength from for wasting it, which is why radio abhors silence. Action games are designed very similarly: Its considered kind of a cardinal sin to be quiet or do nothing, which is why interceptions are filled with dialog or pumping music to help keep the energy high which I think Ace Combat succeeds incredibly at. Other flight games, especially those leaning more towards simulation like the Energy Airforce which was a competitor to Ace Combat have long periods of silence where your goal is to read your instruments and make decisions while moving. The result is you get action which is slower and more methodical. To my understanding, general audiences for the most part are hostile towards this sort of thing in flight games but they love them in adventure games like Zelda or Dark Souls. I think its just that there isn't a lot to look at or interact with in the air, and there aren't many landmarks to pick out and move towards when you're looking at something on a radar. I would say.. A radar can be like oldschool games in some way. If you look at something like Armored Core: For Answer's missile play (search 'missile carnival' on youtube) you'll notice the readout looks a lot like touhou gameplay? I'm curious to see flight games use these kinds of readouts, or mind-games (a la Patlabor 2's Wyvern) -- though this would mean making new game designs. I think flight games need to think about these kinds of things.

What are your thoughts on Project Wingman?

I thought it was very fun, but the story really didn't make a lot of sense. Some of the missions felt like if you mismatched your plane, you were punished very hard, and I'm still not sure how I feel about that. The gunplay, while extremely forgiving albiet extremely satisfying. I feel mapping a switch between novice and advanced mode on the controller by default, and some forgiveness features (a la starfox's automatic ground collision prevention in basic mode) likely would have allowed the ground combat design to have been more dense and intricate and therefor more sophisticated, and in turn made made players less nervous about flying into the ground which people saw a lot of players on Twitch do. That said, the thrill that you might crash is also kind of part of what makes fighter-planes so intoxicating, isn't it? Balancing that so its fair would be really difficult.

Is surpassing their efforts a reasonable goal?

I think in terms of gameplay yes. In terms of presentation, probably not. An enormous amount of time was put into the production of Project Wingman. Although tools have come a long way, what was accomplished was a massive amount of work for a single person. Though many complain of "retro-looking" games, its often a deliberate choice to cut down the amount of time spent working on presentation of a game and so if you're a single individual, I'd consider finding a way to use your time wisely.

ARMORED CORE

What do you love about Armored Core?

So I think I've been heard saying this before, but I feel like Armored Core was meant to be "many games", and at one point a designer wasn't sure what kind of game to commit to and realized, "wait, I can make the player decide that" and so the customization element was born. In this way, I like that AC lets a player realize their own preferred way to play, and invent their own difficulty: That is to say, when their "preferred" build doesn't match a scenario, they learn and study the ecosystem of how that build reacts with other builds to organically find their own difficulty and learning goals. I think AC is at its best when a player is trying to push a round shape through a square hole with skill: They could concede and pick the right shape and gain build knowledge, or they can push on, and learn technique. That, "making it work" means not only is there something for everybody but that players can moderate their own difficulty, or find new challenge runs, and new ways to make the game easier or harder, either by changing their build, or their mindset of the build they have. It forces growth, and that's really cool. Some games do it more than others, and those which do it less and over-emphasize either the building or the piloting, I tend to enjoy far less in the series. Its a difficult thing to balance.

What makes Armored Core's designs stand out?

Do you mean game-design, or visual design? If we assume visual design... I think specifically, its that they don't stand out which makes them important. They mix well and intricately, and they're all balanced expressions of platonic norms within the mechanical design of the game's era. You can kind of cosplay known mecha if you want to, but what tends to happen is they use the iconography of mecha of their era to express their attributes. If something is thin and lean, you can assume it will be fast. If something has big beefy shapes, you can assume it will be beefy and quite stable. The designs communicate what they do, and they have a lot of personality too and are recognizable. I like that a lot.

If I had to brief artists working with me, what key points should be included?

I think given the project you've outlined, you'd need to know what you want before you could even begin forming key-points, surely? That is to say, you have to begin with intention, and intentionality to extrude that into something else? That said, your project does sound a bit like something Tessemi expressed interest in working on, and had done some modular fighter designs for. I think, if you wanted a good answer to this question, I would ask Tessemi or the aero-crowd.

[selamat-linting]

so, i was enrolled in a vocational highschool. its the type of school that are halfway a tradeschool. its a program in my country that i quote here, meant to produce ready-made workers right out of the education system. the curriculum for every highschool major you took is different, but i personally never learn biology, geography and chemistry beyond the basics in middle school.

random aside over, for one year me and my classmates (computer programming major) had to share a classroom for normal school lessons with the guys majoring for heavy equipments engineering. one time there was an orientation presentation for them and we had to sit there as the teacher told them the kind of work theyre expected to do. so, theyre going to learn maths and physics and everything else so they know how to operate and fix industrial grade machinery like the massive trucks meant to ship coal around, mega structures to dig tunnels for mining operations.

during the last slide, the teacher showed them a slideshow of workplace deaths.. it was morbid, he said to us that death is inevitable on your line of work. its going to happen. of course we can minimize this by following safety codes, but accidents will happen.

and it doesnt register to me as weird at the time, but its stuck in my mind. like i had the vague sense that something wasnt right. and it isnt. like, he's showing kids that dying on the job, its a tragedy sure, but its normal. its fact of life. my country is an imperialized nation so they never try to lie about whats the purpose of our education. we are here to prepare for work, not to learn. and from the beginning, the oil and mining industry doesnt care about human life. and im thinking of the shares and stocks where all of those profits fueled by death eventually finds itself, in the pockets of men who might never see the inside of a oil tank. or where all the oils and minerals are heading, as i sit here waiting in a queue on the gas station to fill my motorbike even though there's an oil and coal processing site just a few hundred kilometers away still in border of my hometown.

worst part is i know this isnt the worst because someone out there who might even be younger than me is dying for the gasoline im getting, the circuit boards inside my phone, and i know one of my friends online is sleeping inside a car while office buildings and billboards stay lit and functional every day of the year fueled and powered by unimaginable amount of normalized deaths.

and im also thinking of the oil spills at the beach, the days that gets hotter and hotter every year. last year there was a gruesome car accident. an oil truck swerved off the sidewalk and killed a dozen people. its not the only major first accident in that place, as always the old complaints about public safety and roads came back for a while, and they might be satisfied that there's a barricade and a rule for large trucks not being allowed to be on the road during the day, but im also thinking of my friend who worked in the industry as a safety operator, complaining that half of the trucks are overdue for maintenance for years and the drivers license have expired but no one ever did anything about it because theyre on a constant deadline and spending time to do checks only makes the managers yell at you for missing a quota and you had to stay longer instead of getting some sleep or spending time with family, in a job where you already work 12 hours a day on average.

my point is, its all connected. just simply asking where the gas powering your car came from revealed a lot. i know this is retreading the basics but i think its good to remember how interconnected everything is. how the tragedies and genocides and social murders arent an aberration but a logical conclusion of the way society is organized. its a well oiled machine, excuse my pun. its all-encompassing, but seeing it as it is makes it easier to find its weak spot, areas where we can fight. this is why im a communist, specifically a marxist leninist, i do think workers' revolt with international proletariat society is the only way we could break free.

but anyway, all this is to brag about how i never learn geography in highschool and yet i can still name more countries and capitals than the average college student in the us so (⁠＾⁠3⁠＾). also now that i mention it i also never learn biology but i know more about the human body than your average terf so 😌 shitty schools is not an excuse 💖

[msweebyness]

Can we ask for multiple characters? If so, for the Monster Kids, what's your favorite thing about being your monster species?

Marinette: Well, for voodoo dolls like me, aside from the fact that it poses a risk to others, which sucks, losing a limb or getting torn up isn’t really a problem, because we can just sew up the damage!

Alya: Being able to phase through walls and other solid objects comes in pretty handy a lot of the time! Never need to worry about losing my room key for one!

Nino: Well, like Mari, losing limbs isn’t a problem for us Steins! Plus, my volts can charge up anything that me or my friends need in like half a minute, which is cool!

Max: Well, having several useful tools automatically built into your body comes in rather handy in a pinch, and you can always install new ones as needed! Perks of being a machine.

Kim: We werewolves have the sharpest senses of any monster species, that’s what makes us such awesome hunters! Turning into a wolf whenever I want is also pretty cool!

Alix: Turning an annoying jackassss who won't sssstop running their mouth to sssstone ssshutsss 'em up real quick. It’sss a pretty efficient way to teach people a lesssson.

Ivan: My people very strong. Five year old Yeti can crush boulders size of truck tires in bare hands. This is something I like. We also have high tolerance for pain, hit with rocks and snow a lot. Do not get cold easy either.

Mylene: Plant monsters can grow anything in a matter of minutes, we do have two green thumbs after all! We also don’t need anything but water and sunlight to survive!

Juleka: vampires have a lot of cool powers, to be honest. I like turning into a bat and flying around the most. It just makes you feel really free!

Luka: Yeah, same here. Going bat mode is pretty wicked!

Rose: Skeleton bones actually make pretty killer music, like psychedelic xylophones! I use my bones when I play with Jules! Plus I can reattach them, no sweat!

Sabrina: Grrrrrrggggghhhh, Urrrrrggggh. (Translation: Well, the best thing about being a zombie is probably the brain power! We’re not as stupid as people think, and we have LOOONG memories. We’re also great at organizing and coordinating stuff.)

Chloé: Being Egyptian royalty has a lot of perks! We have servants to take care of things for us, and we live in fancy pyramids with tons of treasure.

Zoe: We also can use ancient Egyptian magic, you know, summoning sandstorms, waves of scarabs, and all sorts of curses and spells!

Nathaniel: Well, I’m made of stone, so I never really have to worry about getting hurt. I can also use my own hands as chisels for my sculpting in a pinch, plus I can look Alix in the eyes.

Marc: I just really like being able to fly, it makes me feel free and really calm. Plus, having four arms means I can do a bunch of stuff at once!

Ondine: Well, I can breathe and survive in both fresh and salt water, which is really cool! I can also talk to fish and other aquatic creatures, they’re so sweet and funny. Plus, no one swims faster than me!

Kagami: Storm dragons such as myself can command the weather and climate. We also have an uncanny sense for locating treasure, especially gold.

Aurore: My kind has a vast array of the telepathic abilities, such as psychic communication and the levitating of objects with our mental strength.

Mireille: Being made of slime means that I don’t have to hold one shape. I can contort and manipulate my body to fit into just about any space!

Jean: Well, the pipes on us phantoms are pretty wicked! When I’m really projectin’, you can hear me almost a mile away! Plus, we can travel through mirrors, which is handy in a pinch.

Denise: Sasquatches can leap as far as thirty feet if we really put our backs into it! Makes hiking a lot of fun. Plus, we’re crazy strong, on the same level as yetis!

Simon: Well, Cyclops are favored by the sea gods, which is pretty cool. We’re also pretty strong and good at building stuff. I use it for tech more than anything.

Reshma: Well, my webs come in pretty handy for a lot of different things! Sewing thread, heavy duty rope, transportation, they can even be accessories or decorations! Also, like Marc said, multiple limbs make multitasking pretty easy!

Cosette: Well, we Minotaurs have pretty hard heads! I can smash right through a wall without even getting dizzy! Also, the nose rings look badass!

Ismael: Well, we werecats are kind of natural acrobats! Super agile, great at climbing and always land on our feet!

Lacey: Well, never having to worry about getting cold, that’s one thing! Plus, having flames leaping off your body makes for some wicked-looking stunts!

Lila: Being a harpy means that people don’t expect you to follow the rules, and being able to fly comes in handy when getting away with things.

[boy-armageddon]

man could i get like. a crash course on your oc's. i don't know anything about any of them godbless

EEEE YAY OF COURSE!!!! (Insane ramblings about my world and 4 of my characters (technically like 6-7 though I mention some briefly) under the cut)

Okay so quick tldr thing for their world because there’s A Lot: set in a sort of fucked up future Detroit with a lot of pollution with this Alien God Blood/Fuel Substance (aka anti-essence) with a lot of. Basically killing machines of animals created from ingesting it (Reapers) who have changed a lot of how humans live and also the population in general is way down, so most of them live in cities now. Very compact and very low quality of life. The aforementioned Reapers are entities, which are beings created by old gods (aforementioned alien god things. Too much lore to get into but what you need to know is that they do exist and they do cause trouble for people and can possess people sort of. Not Reapers though they’re a weird exception). This is all I should say because Oh My God I run my mouth LOL

Enter my main protagonist freak, Jeong Chin-hae. Investigates entities freelance because of his strong moral convictions with helping people always no matter what it may cost himself or sometimes other people and all, and also partly because he is semi-possessed by an entity! Got nearly beat to death and a Shade (another kind of entity, friendlier than the others and distinctly nautically themed) tried to possess what it thought was his corpse but woopsies! He was still alive so they’re just stuck together LOL. Also other things of note about him: anger issues, autistic (specifically has a lot of sensory issues around being touched and has a special interest in hardcore punk and some of its subgenres. Like me yeah I know LOL), recently moved to futuristic Detroit and is sleeping on his friend’s couch. His friend is Dave btw she’s so cool but not too relevant rn, just know she’s Jeong’s ex (no tension or anything it was just kind of a funny thing and they just realized “oh yeah we’re just friends” and broke it off then) and only friend at this point and also a polyamorous weed dealer to the neighbors (not dating them though, just the weed dealer to them of course)

Speaking of the neighbors!!!!!!!! Cassy (Castillo) Navarro Villanueva :3 one of his mothers is an old god that feeds upon the fear of the afterlife/death and the one who made shades. Cassy specifically feeds more on sleep and has dream related powers, ironic considering he’s an insomniac LOL. Lives next door to Dave and yknow. Buys weed from him. Would have been a film major if he could’ve afforded it and still like constantly watches and talks about films (likes weird artsy bullshit and some stereotypical film bro movies. Wears a fight club shirt a lot but in entity affairs world it’s called Altercation Association). However! He is currently. Um. An organ harvester 😭 long story about that but that whole underbelly of the medical industry was basically his only option as, due to being half old god, he looks. freaky in a few ways (notably the multiple eyes and the hand mouths and other stuff). Very predatory industry stuff blah blah blah so that’s why he’s there. He’s also a cannibal AND in a weird gay relationship with Jeong they are So bad for each other ❤️

Other neighbor who mooches off of Cassy, Homhe! Pronounced like Hawm-hey does that make sense. Too much lore to get into but they’re like 17 year old albino amalgamation dipshit being manipulated by this one old god into doing so many horrible actions. A huge asshole on purpose yet is weirdly protective of Cassy (like the only person who hasn’t gotten fed up with them yet which is why). Technically some sort of entity but moreso a vessel, long story. Because of this, they can sort of leech off of other entity’s power stuff. Like a sponge! Hates Jeong so bad too. It’s a jealousy thing but not romantic jealousy OBVS LOL

Finally, out of my main character. My fave oc ever in the universe… Cecilia Moore!!! Yes Cecilia like Cecilia and the Silhouette Saloon. Constantly wears businessy clothes and has a flat affect and died once. She’s okay now though Cassy’s old god mother, Reorzæk, revived her because she just took a special time interest in her. Of course this is in exchange for being basically her “follower,” or a person (isn’t always a person specifically just any sentient life form) who just does the old god’s bidding, and is specifically assigned to the. Organ harvesting stuff, for the purposes of making more vessels (long story related to Homhe). Cassy’s boss basically. She’s very tired constantly and super overworked but she actually does have a similar music taste to Jeong (if liking more prog stuff than him), so when she has the time she either listens to music or reads (usually random super wordy books for fun.) Jayson’s older sister (not talking about my token cis guy rn because he’s not a main character, but if you want to you can ask more about him), transgender lesbian, generally the goat. To me

There’s more I can talk about obvs because look at how much I’m talking but alas. It would be a millenia to talk about it ALL in one post. Sorry for rambling 😭

[be-the-glenn-to-my-maggie]

The time thing is actually something I'm glad you mentioned in your response because I've been puzzling over it myself. I can see this happening one of three ways so far: 1) the RDA have been there for longer than in canon and Grace and them ended up arriving at a later time. 2) the meshing is less organic and more purposeful. After gaining their independence they still want to keep parts of their culture but want to sort of move away from the more traditional stories told by their creators/captors, so they mesh the stories and songs on purpose to make something uniquely theirs.

Or 3) since they are just experimental versions of the recoms, it makes sense that the RDA scientists might have needed time to perfect the memory transfer, especially since around two-thirds of their test subjects are from the people who volunteered their memories way back when the science of memory transfer was just becoming a thing as to not waste more valuable memories. Therefore a lot of their memories are often muddled, and those who can remember fully are few and far between. I imagine that if this was the reason I chose it would also give me a reason as to why Paz went up so high in the rankings: she's one of the last to be made, therefor all of her memories are intact. With the knowledge she knows, it's no wonder she became the Priestess of Songs. Plus, she knows far more about the RDA than the others because of how long she was with them, which could be another part of that.

Hmm, very interesting!! I think any version could be very cool. I think it seems like you have the most fleshed out about the last one. I kind of like the idea of them all being somewhat defective memory-wise.

My best friend suffered a brain injury while we were growing up, we were about sixteen, and sometimes talking to her is just having the same few conversations over and over with slight variations. She is the same person with the same personality, she just doesn't remember that she told me this story last week, you know? It really isn't that big a deal, because she lived and she is much better than she used to be. Often with fictional memory issues or brain injuries, I feel like a repeated story or a forgotten detail is treated as a sign of the character still being broken, not quite healed. Sometimes it's every day life. I like the idea of a whole clan of characters who are... I don't know, damaged mentally, for lack of a better word, but it's just their way of life. I've read a few stories where Spider has mental trauma from the RDA mind reading machine, and the memory thing being such a major deal always makes me vaguely sad. I'd love one where he'd adjust to his new normal.

When my best friend is tired she CANNOT balance, she will fall trying to walk over something even if it's the only thing on the floor. It's just her now so it's the funniest shit in the world, we just make fun of her. Idk. That idea makes me feel warm and happy. My apologies for going off topic, you made me think about something that's really only been a half formed thought.

[periwinckles]

The train back home - chapter 3

By the end of the first week, we have put our plan in motion and by the end of the second week, we operate like a well-oiled machine, capable of rivaling even the efficiency of the District Thirteen regime.

Today I'm on water duty, along with Saul and Leevy, which entails carrying buckets of water to the camping site and distributing it to the workers. We collect the water from the fountain near the East mine entrance, which is a considerable distance away. However, all the nearer fountains are clogged with ashes, and there is no plumbing for water anywhere except at the train station and in Victors village. A couple of days ago, Haymitch Abernathy visited the camping site and offered to let us collect water from his house. The walk is shorter but the incline is steep enough to discourage us. I think he was hoping to trade water for liquor, which we obviously don't have. Thom ordered two more pushcarts and several water drums that we can reuse, and hopefully that'll make our job easier, but for the time being we need to carry it. I don't mind. It's hard work, but I still haven't seen the town, and I prefer tasks that keep it out of sight.

Our group is divided into three teams: the "cleaners," the "campers," and the "suppliers." Mr. Norbert oversees the "cleaners," the largest group composed entirely of males. Their task is clearing buildings for reconstruction, sorting and salvaging materials as they go. They are also responsible for the grim task of collecting and burying the bodies of the deceased, but I try not to dwell on that too much.

Mr Johnson is in charge of the camping site, the "campers". Along with his crew they handle everything from tents set up to gathering wood for the night's bonfire. Within three days of our arrival, they constructed a shelter using wood and oilcloth to protect our supplies from the elements and they're currently in the process of building a latrine and a few makeshift showers. We’re able to use the toilets from the train station for now, but it's not really convenient, as it's still a six or seven minute walk from here, and we only have one shower for forty seven people.

Saul wanted us to join Thom's team, so we're "suppliers". We handle food, water, orders from the train, as well as cleaning and organizing all the tools and equipment. We also take inventory of everything that the 'cleaners' manage to salvage from the wrecks. It keeps us mostly in camp, although Thom and a few others usually join the "cleaners" in the afternoons. Saul begs me to let him join them every day. I managed to keep him away from town so far, but I know it won't last long.

Keeping ourselves occupied helps us to move forward, both literally and figuratively, so that’s what I’m trying to do, for Saul’s sake. It seems odd that work would be the one thing that would give me a sense of joy again, but I guess I did always find contentment in it. The afternoons are my favorite, as I take time to do some sewing and mending. It was apparent I was the most skilled with a needle. The first few days I dreaded the moment I had to pick it up. It reminded me so much of all the time I spent helping my dad at the shop. But as I worked the stitches with the precision he taught me I was flooded with happy memories of him. So, I reserve the afternoons to spend time with my dad now. Even if it's only in my head.

"Delilah, let me help you!"

That is, until I’m bothered. Again.

Cyrus Johnson makes a quick jog in my direction to help me with my buckets but before he reaches me, I shake my head.

"Thank you, Mr Johnson, but I'm good, they are not that heavy." I only half fill my buckets. They are easier to carry and easier to lift to pour the water into the water drums. I need to make more trips, but they're easier to manage this way.

As I pour my water on the drum he makes a point to hold the lid open, and once more I pretend I don't notice the extra attention he’s giving me. What a striking contrast this is to two years ago when most guys wouldn’t even spare a second glance at plain Delly. Now it feels like all I do is fend off guys trying to get too close.

"You should rest for a bit, you've been carrying buckets all morning!"

It's barely 10:00 am and I have only made four trips so far.

" I will, once I get some of this water to Sae."

Sae's a 'supplier' too and she does most of the cooking. We're still eating canned food for the most part but she's heating it up and adding a few herbs she collects. We also got a large supply of eggs last week, that she's been using in every way imaginable. Leevy and her sister Luisa help her, and they sometimes let me join as well. I’m slowly getting the hang of it, though I’m not as helpful as Leevy and Luisa, who have been cooking meals for their family before learning how to read. You'd figure my poor cooking abilities would be enough to discourage the male attention.

"Hey, Ray, get this water to Sae, will you?"

Ray Thompson reluctantly stops what he's doing and follows Cyrus's orders, but it's clear that he's unhappy about it. His wife shoots me a disapproving glare, but otherwise, the other "campers" continue with their tasks, without noticing. Lucky for me someone else does.

"Delly, I'm going to the train station now to get this week's supplies, you want to come with?"

Thom appears next to us, seemingly out of nowhere. His sleeves are rolled up to his elbows, his hair is wet and messy, and the front of his shirt is splattered with water, as if he was hit by a spraying hose. It's clear he's been working hard today. He’s been trying to fix one of the closer fountains to the camp, to make it usable again, and from the looks of it, he succeeded.

Read the rest on AO3

[suprgamr66]

Writer’s comment: This all originated from a weird dream that I adapted into an infinite watch story so if things feel like they’re a little weird just know I tried to make sure that there was reason for things happening but yeah. I can’t guarantee this addition to the infinite watch chronicles makes 100% sense.

The infinitewatch chronicles:Timelines collide part I

An alarm is blaring as two lines start merging near the ends.

“Infinite!”, a man calls out, “you’re going to want to see this!”. A man in all black armor from head to toe with a grey V shaped visor and a yellow line glowing in the visor, and a power core with the energy of the infinity stones coursing through it with a dark purple crystal in the middle of the power core.

“What is it,” infinite says, his voice distorted by the helmet he wears

“The timelines. They’re merging”

“Which ones, when in their time are they merging, and what phase are they in?” Infinite asks.

“The timelines are the attack on Titan timeline and owl house timeline, the attack on Titan timeline is projected to finish merging as eren is running towards Zeke but before he gets decapitated, the owl house timeline is merging as belos is on his way to the heart, and they’re currently in phase 1 of merging. Phase 2 will begin in an hour our time, phase 3 will begin in an hour and a half, and phase 4 will begin in 2 hours.”

Another man, a similar armor to infinite’s but with rodan’s wings on his back, Godzilla dorsal plates on his arms, and one of king kong’s teeth on each hand all shrunk to human level of size. He says, “Infinite, lemme handle this. I’m able to keep the timeline’s safe. My armor is built to handle titan class organisms.”

Infinite says, “No. I’ll handle it for now, Titan. You may be the leader of the Titan division but you’re still new to the position you haven’t even seen a timeline merger before. Once I’m sure events in the timeline won’t change or cannot be stopped from changing I’ll call you in to help.”

Titan argues, “but my armor will let me grow to the size of a colossal titan. Maybe even Eren’s founding titan with more experimentation. If you go in you won’t die but if a titan tries to eat you and you kill it how can we be sure it wasn’t going to do anything else on the timeline.”

Infinite responds, “Killing one titan won’t lead to the timelines dying or getting destroyed.” He turns to the other man who warned him of the timelines merging. “Get the rift open. I’ll keep comms open incase things go south.” Suddenly, a machine starts sparking to life. A crack in reality opens up and infinite steps through. He enters shiganshina and curses under his breath realizing how far he jumped. He saw Eren’s titan vaulting the edge of the building preparing to fight the armored titan. He went to eren’s titan and reached the head, “Eren yager!” Infinite said. “Listen, I don’t have time to explain but I need you to come with me!” Infinite knew it would be too late to stop the timelines from merging so all he had left to do was recruit those who could help infinitewatch’s mission of keeping the Omni verse from being destroyed. Eren didn’t respond. He only continued walking forward as parachutes were falling from the sky and a ball of glowing lighting sparked in the sky “here we go,” infinite said. He considered calling Titan on the comms to get him to help but he decided he could take them on. “EREN YAGER!” Infinite tried screaming again, “JOIN US AND YOUR ISLAND WILL BE SAFE!!” Eren paused he nodded, however he created a bow and arrow out of a crystal like material that shined in the sunlight. Infinite mumbles to himself, “so he has the warhammer’s abilities. It’s the only explanation for his Titan hardening abilities to be this heightened.” But before he could prepare the timeline began breaking worse and he heard a loud roar. “FUCK!!!” Infinite screamed. Suddenly golden lightning began appearing in one area and titans began appearing everywhere. Infinite out of rage let out a burst of purple lighting that suddenly turned green which resulted in nearly everything being frozen in time. Eren’s Titan looked confused and suddenly they see a giant ape like Titan rise, also looking confused. “The beast Titan,” infinite muttered. Infinite says, “You can come out of your titans. I won’t attack you.” The beast Titan walks over as Eren yager exits his titan. He asks, “how did you do this?” Infinite responds, “I don’t have time to explain, all I can say is I’ve managed to freeze this timeline but I can’t hold it for long. I can’t hold it for long. I need you to go and retrieve Reiner Braun, Porco Galliard, Piek Finger, Levi and mikasa acherman, armin arlert, and only if you see the warhammer Titan, Laura tyber. Eren responds, “Laura is dead and why are we getting the armored, jaw, and cart titans.” Infinite says, “this timeline is doomed. We can’t save everyone. But if we can save powerful warriors then they can help prevent or make events like this less likely. I’ll explain when we get back to home base. I can’t keep this up for long, look over there.” They at one of the walls only to realize it’s starting to fall apart ever so slowly as the timeline begins to unfreeze, caused by a giant skull with a giant crown shaped house hovering above it. Titans within the walls begin to move ever so slowly but are slowly picking up speed. Eren nods and moves to go retrieve the people infinite requested however zeke is still skeptical. Infinite tells him, “look, you can either die here along with your plan or you can help me and live another day. Make your choice.” Zeke reluctantly agrees and leaves to go find them. Infinite says, “whenever you retrieve one of them, bring them back here. When all of them are back we’ll go back to my home base. Remember, the journey from here on out isn’t going to be easy. In fact it will likely be harder than anything you’ve ever experienced or what you were ever meant to experience. But when left with no choice, we fight on and continue the mission.” Eren and zeke nods as infinite begins straining himself more to freeze the time for longer so that the others can be retrieved. He knows he’ll have time later to recruit soldiers from the owl house universe but will need to get back to home base before a recruitment can begin. After some time, everyone infinite had requested was brought to him.

However, there appeared to be a couple of extras that zeke brought. “Who are these two?” Infinite asked. Zeke responded, “I won’t leave them behind. Colt here was meant to be my successor.” He pointed at the taller of the two. “And that one is his brother, Falco. Colt won’t leave here without him. He’s a warrior candidate. I’m not sure if you have something similar to what we had but he would be able to take on anything similar to gaining the abilities of the armored titan. Infinite who knows there isn’t enough time says, “fine. But he better be a good fighter.” Infinite radios his home base to send them back. A crack opens in reality behind infinite and they walk through, beginning the recruitment.