#thanks for not being bored for lack of variety

[oat-pup]

you give me life. LIFE I TELL YOU.

me after expolading the smiling friends search tag with grim and gnarly content nonstop for months❤️🕊

[undercoverpan]

Coming home

Spider is dead.

Those are 3 words with a combined number of 12 letters. On average, each word has 4 letters, despite only 1 of them actually having 4 letters. This is the English spelling of it. In fact, when the boy had first been discovered–, sorry, when his body had first been discovered, Norm knelt down, pressed his hands to his neck and pulse and yelled out "Kerusey!" Which is Na'vi for dead. It's used as a one-word sentence here, like 'no' or 'yes'. He had declared Spider was dead with 1 very simple word, pronounced Kerr-oo-sey.

He thinks he recalls screaming after that. "Ma'itan! Ma'itan! Kerusey! Kehe, kehe, ke Ma'itan!" 

He found him rotting somewhere on the forest floor. All broken bones jutting out at odd angles and dried blood and dirt caking his body. He bore no mask and his skin was marred with thin lines across his stomach, arms, legs and back. Most disturbing was his hair, or in this case, the lack thereof. It had been as short as Jake's when he was in the military, with a long scar spanning the entirety of the back of his head. He was dressed in some flimsy medical gown, some parts already chewed up by the animals. His fingernails were bruised and dirty, and he was missing his right pinkie. He had a few missing teeth as well. Weirdly, his body was clean shaven, not a wisp of hair along his arms or legs or anywhere else.

Norm is a father scientist, he knows how you prep someone for surgery. Knows what surgical scars look like too. And once he had his fill of vomiting to the point of not being able to stand; staring dizzily at chunks of the yovo fruit he'd had moments prior; he carried his body to the lab. The human body loses 21 grams, or three-fourths of an ounce, when they die. Spider's body felt lighter than that. He could attribute it to the loss of hair. He knows that dreads, with products like gel or wax–, in Spider's case, oil–, can weigh a bit. Maybe 2 pounds; 3 if he's really pushing it. But no; he was lighter than even that.

He didn't pass anyone walking back to the lab, doing his level best to keep Spider from jostling too much. It was difficult when he had to start climbing back up. He found his legs stiffer than a board. He could barely feel the rocks and dirt beneath his feet, the scenery passing by mutely, melting away like it was never even there. Even sound could not reach him, it all seemed so far away; melting into something that was almost tranquil, like the world around him was nothing more than a sea of grey.

He reaches the lab, opens and closes the airlock and stumbles inside. The ground is cold. Spider is–, Spider is too cold. He has to warm up, and after that, maybe they can talk. He'd been gone for forever, somewhere he couldn't reach. His 'itan, cold and lonely without him. He should bring him to his room, he's tried cleaning it a little bit. Tried to preserve his scent on the blankets and pillows and clothes, keeping the door locked tight so it wouldn't be mixed in with the outside. His favourite was the bed, just laying in it like he used to with Spider when he was a baby, refusing to fall asleep unless someone was holding him. He'd sing little lullabies for him, except he only knew twinkle twinkle little star and he felt Spider deserved variety, so he sang washing machine heart and class of 2013 until he fell asleep.

He should wash Spider off before bed. Yeah, yeah, that'll help. He's going to clean him up and he thinks he'll stick him in one of his big shirts. It's easy, a mind numbing process. Dirt and blood washes away easily, but maybe that's thanks to the lack of body hair. He has Spider in his old Shakira El Dorado t-shirt, he remembers he liked their songs. As he puts Spider to bed, blue hands delicately tucking his blanket to his chin, he thought; why not relive old memories?

"Wherever, whenever, we're meant to be together.." he sings softly, recalling how Spider loved to sing along with him. "I'll be there and you'll be near, and that's the deal my dear."

______

It is not everyday that Max hears singing from Spider's room. He hears it often now, his colleague/husband often trying to reconnect to Spider that way. He always made sure to have a warm cup of tea ready for him when he did. He'd usually find him in Spider's room, clutching at some clothes or blanket, muttering desperate prayers to bring his son home, please, Eywa, let my son come home. 

Today was a surprise. Today Spider lays in his bed and Norm is singing for him. The boy is pale and unmoving, very clearly dead from where he's standing. He dropped to the floor, mug shattering and spilling tea and glass across the floor. 

"Max? Oh, be careful! Here, let me help you." He says, helping Max stand to his shaking legs. His eyes strayed to Spider's eerily still form. "Oh! Oh, Max, it's just wonderful, I found Spider! Eywa returned him to me, she let him come home!"

Max could only look at him with worry. He's dead. The boy is dead. His body is cold, stiff and pale. Their boy is dead. Kerusey. But looking at Norm's face, at the desperate and almost wild look in his eyes, as if begging for him to see what he saw. Their 'itan. Theirs, dead. 

"That's–, that's wonderful, Norm." He says tiredly. "Should I get us some food? Think we still have some episoth seeds left." Norm grins, something brighter than everything he's felt since Spider's kidnapping. 

____

Lil short babie post for u guys because ily <333 dug up an absolute banger from the drabbles and aus graveyard. P sure this is part of an au that's darker than even this lil thang.

Btw:

Ma'itan! Ma'itan! Kerusey! Kehe, kehe, ke Ma'itan! Means - My son! My son! Dead! No, no, not my son!

[azures-bazar]

Oi there ! I love your RDR2 one shots (mostly the ones where Arthur's being soft af) !!

Could you make one of Arthur being sick and being taken care of by female!reader ??

Thanks in advance, love your work !

High Fever

Hello there anon, thank you for your request !

First of, I'm sorry it took me more than two weeks :') My job is taking most of my free-time as I kinda overwork (yep). Keeping the job I've got at the moment is a real battle, so writing takes much more time than I expected.

Anyway, I hope you'll still like this one-shot. I'm sorry for the mistakes, it's badly written due to the lack of free time I've got :')

Arthur Morgan x Female!Reader 

Word count : 3.8k 

Short summary : Arthur came back to camp overwhelmingly sick, and you are not leaving him alone !

A/Note : Arthur’s tent has flaps and he’s sharing it with reader ! 

Tags : Arthur is sick, some fluff (as always), soft, taking care of someone ill, chapter 3, summer breeze, small whump aftercare (somehow), flu, vastly inspired by IRL

The sun was shining brightly, the morning weather was already quite warm. It was not a surprise, you had been warned about Lemoyne’s overall hot summer weather, but the climate was very different from the one you used to enjoy while the gang was hiding in the Heartlands. You still loved this weather, especially when you had some time to look at the scenery which was surrounding you. Beautiful tall trees, a lake which appeared to be endless, some islands ahead of you… something about Clemens Point felt magical, if not even a little safe. Who would have guessed the Van der Linde gang was hiding here ? 

What made you feel even more safe was the tent you were sharing with Arthur, for a variety of reasons. You had been brought in the gang by Dutch after escaping the law following a minor bank robbery you had performed alone, somewhere back in 1893. Since the very first day you had spent with the rest of the gang, Arthur had displayed a lot of interest in being around you, from helping you to use a bow to spending time drawing by your side. Your rather friendly relationship slowly turned into a very awkward romance when Arthur gifted you with a large bouquet of wild flowers, dropping a kiss on your lips while watching the sunset from a hill. 

"I… I think I really like you." this single sentence he had told you made you go on an incredible journey of two outlaws being in love 

As of 1899, you and Arthur had been sharing his tent for about a year. You could easily remember him holding your hand while asking Dutch to move your cot to his quarters. Indeed, you had slept in Arthur’s tent on a variety of occasions : on rainy nights, when the weather was too cold, when someone of you was drunk, and, of course, when you wanted to have some fun. It had taken two days for Dutch to finally accept Arthur’s request, knowing that some of your nights would obviously not be as quiet as his… and god knows how right he was !  

You rarely slept on your cot, mostly resting into Arthur’s embrace, getting up with the morning light and birds chirping around you. However, that day, instead of peacefully waking up with the light from the outside passing between your tent’s flaps, Arthur’s continuous sneezes and soft coughs had dragged you out of your well-deserved rest. Being on guard duty all day long doing mostly nothing was boring… and somewhat tiring. You had chosen to sleep on your cot that night as you went to rest earlier than the rest of the gang. 

"Ugh…" you sighed, shifting from your cot 

You stretched and made your way to Arthur’s bed, triggered by the sound of his sneezes. You could remember him coming back one day ago from a journey to Ambarino which had lasted for two days. Since Arthur came back, you could easily hear him cough quite often, at any time of the day. The sneezing had started to occur last night, much to your biggest dismay as you just wished to get some sleep. 

"Arthur ?" you whispered 

Arthur’s eyes cracked open as he noticed you were standing nearby. He greeted you with a sweet smile, which caused you to put your frustration aside, melting from the inside as you placed your hand on his forehead. Thankfully enough, Morgan was not feverish. At least… not yet. 

"Did I wake you up ?" Arthur asked, a little confused 

"You’re sick." you sighed 

"No, I ain’t." 

You shook your head, asking Arthur to stand up to prove he was in good shape. He even proceeded putting his clothes on for you not to worry about him, causing you to smirk a little. Whenever you were sick, Arthur was always the one taking care of you. And, right at this moment, as he was getting sick himself, he proudly hid his illness behind his usual smile and rough voice. 

"See ? I’m fine." he said, leaving the tent

Arthur quickly headed out to chop some wood while you looked at him with a rather concerned expression. As far as you could recall, whenever Arthur was sick, there were at least two phases. The ‘No I’m fine’ phase, which was the one he usually displayed whenever he was starting to feel a little sick. He would still keep doing chores, going hunting and not even care about his health, overworking himself to please Dutch anytime he needed. 

The second one was the ‘I’m dying’ phase, which, as its name suggested, was triggered whenever Arthur felt horribly sick. During this phase, Arthur usually behaved like a man on his deathbed, begging for the mercy of whatever was above, crying like a child until the symptoms would slowly fade away. Indeed, you did not want Arthur to get to this phase because not only it was a pitiful sight for such man, but also because you already had some hard time acting serious when he was behaving like a young boy. 

For a few hours, you watched Arthur take care of some chores while minding your own business, up until Morgan stopped walking around and started coughing heavily. You watched him cough, nearly falling on his knees as you quickly carried a sack of grain to Pearson’s wagon. You quickly walked towards Arthur, who was slowly trying to breathe normally. 

"You okay ?" you asked

"I’m fine." Arthur answered in a rather weak way

"No you ain’t."

You moved closer to Arthur, raising your hand to touch his forehead, causing him to chuckle. Of course, Morgan was a tough man who did not need anyone’s help, and seeing you wanting to take care of him made him feel very amused by the situation. Yes, he was sick… and there was no need to hide it from you. 

"My god, your forehead is burning !" you gasped. "Get back to your tent !"

"Y/N, m’fine…-"

"To your tent, right now !" 

Arthur noticed how persuasive you were, causing him to chuckle, raising his hands in the air as you pushed him towards his tent, quickly informing both Dutch and Hosea, who were having a talk nearby, that their boy was sick was would not do anything today. They both knew Arthur was doing most of the work around camp, he definitely deserved some rest ! Especially being this sick ! 

"Oh, I’ll go make a Ginseng tonic !" Hosea said, quickly heading to his tent

"Are you sure you can handle this grumpy giant cowboy alone, dear Y/N ?" Dutch asked you, glancing at Arthur who was sitting on his cot grumbling something while crossing his arms and legs

"Don’t worry, Dutch." you smiled. "I’ll take care of your son !"

Dutch chuckled, watching you get to your tent before closing its flaps. The single view of Arthur, nearly pouting on his cot, his arms crossed on his chest and his feet drawing circles on the ground made you smile. What a funny sight it was to witness such a brawny man and well known cowboy with a bounty on his head behaving like a grumpy child who was refusing to get some rest ! 

"Take ‘em boots off, Morgan." you said 

"Y/N, I ain’t gonna stay in my tent all day long, the others need me." 

"You’re staying here. The others can take care of some chores for a day, you’re staying in this tent." 

"But I…-"

"I said you’re staying in this tent. Now take your boots and pants off." 

Arthur grumbled and obliged, calmly removing his boots. He loved taking care of you, he absolutely enjoyed having you rest into his embrace, comfort you after some nightmares you had, watch over you whenever you were feeling sick… but was not used being taken care of. He was a grown man who did not even need anyone’s help. Having such a beautiful lady like you watching over him made him feel both awkward and incredibly good, even if he was to proud to say it. He proceeded removing his gun belt and satchel while staring at you with a defiant smile. 

"Wanna see me naked, sweetheart ?" he smirked

"No, just take your pants off." 

You helped Arthur removing his suspenders and pants, leaving him in his union suit. You carefully passing your hands on his shoulders, wiping away some dirt while pushing him on his cot. He did not even dare showing any signs of resistance, laying down his bed with a sigh as his head rested on a pillow which was once yours. 

"M’fine, Y/N, I swear." he sighed 

"You ain’t a good liar with me. I’ll go get some blankets." 

"This is humiliatin’…" 

Arthur’s words made you shiver, causing you to sit beside him. How could he believe being sick was humiliating when probably every single human being could catch a cold ? You placed your hand on his burning head, letting out a soft sigh before looking into his green orbs. 

"It ain’t. You’re sick, and it happens. You’re spending so much time trying to do chores, doing hunting, doing bounties, robbing places… just for us to survive. Now, allow yourself to rest for a bit. You deserve it." 

"But the others…-" 

"The others will be just fine. Close your eyes and get some rest. I’ll come back to check on you." 

Despite not agreeing with you, Arthur closed his eyes as you gently covered him with one of his blankets. You looked at his grumpy face with a little smirk, listening to him grumbling a few words in his three-days beard before leaving the tent to do some chores around camp. What a literal child Arthur was to act like this ! You often wondered how Hosea, Dutch and Ms. Grimshaw had managed to take care of him back when he was a young boy, especially knowing that Arthur’s behaviour once used to be similar to Sean’s. 

You came back to check on Arthur after taking care of some chores, being given Hosea’s tonic. His eyes cracked open as soon as you walked back inside the tent. He rose on his elbows, getting you with one of his absolutely amazing smiles. You would have killed for this smile, definitely. They were so genuine and worth it… and Arthur was the most handsome man you knew ! 

"Did you get some sleep ?" you smiled 

"No." Arthur shook his head. "I ain’t gonna sleep in the middle of the day like that. I ain’t lil' Jack to take naps. "

"Arthur… You take care of me when I’m sick, lemme do the same for you. I brought you Hosea’s tonic." 

You walked closer to Arthur’s cot and sat next to him, pouring a very strange coloured liquid into his tint cup. Hosea had told you about its ingredients, but you did not expect such a yellowish tone… and awful smell. At first sight, it really looked like some snake oil, and the terrible scent coming from it did not help at all. 

"I ain’t drinkin’ that." Arthur chuckled. "It smells like cat piss."

"Arthur, please." you smiled back 

"Ugh… fine." 

Arthur swallowed the tonic in one go, coughing as he quite disliked its taste, nearly throwing up as he felt this strange liquid go down his throat. He knew that taste and that smell, it wasn’t the first time Hosea was making him a tonic. He had spent a vast majority of his teenage years drinking a variety of them, getting sick quite often. He could remember most of them, but the Ginseng tonic was probably the one he had drank the most throughout his time in the gang. 

"My god, it tastes terrible !" Arthur gagged 

"Yep, but Hosea says it’s the best for you !" 

According to Hosea, this tonic would put Arthur back on his feet in no time. You trusted Matthews’ expertise, having watched him carefully mix the Ginseng’s petals with some water and some gold berries you had brought him a day earlier. Just like Arthur, you also had the opportunity to drink some of these tonics throughout your life with the gang… enough for you to feel a vast amount of compassion as you watched Arthur struggle with his drink. 

"Now get some rest, Arthur." you smiled. "I’ll be back in a few hours, I just need to help Pearson cook the stew and finishing sewing my dress." 

Arthur did not respond, only watching you going out of the tent, sighing as he closed his eyes once more. He could not escape ! Arthur started dozing off after a few seconds, listening to Dutch and Molly arguing nearby his tent, to Sean’s terrible jokes by the crate of whiskey, and to an attempt of Bill to bond with Kieran over a bottle of beer. Something made him feel relaxed, the way you took care of him made him feel relaxed. He secretly adored it, despite not mentioning it. 

You came back a few hours later, as promised, having sent Dutch, Hosea and Tilly to look for Arthur every thirty minutes or so to make sure he was still fine. As you came back inside the tent, you found Arthur groaning, sweating so heavily that your heart nearly stopped at the sight of this poor man in such pain. 

"Oh my god, Arthur… how do you feel ? What hurts ?" 

You helped Arthur up, softly taking off his sweat-soaked union suit. You wanted to make it quick, and Arthur’s wobbly arms did not help at all. He groaned a little when you tried taking his arms out of his shirt, feeling an intense pain coming from the back of his head. You managed to take out some old cloth and plunged it into a bucket of cold water to wipe away some of Arthur’s sweat. 

"Head hurts…" he groaned 

"I know, sweetheart. I’ll just clean you up a little and you’ll lie down." 

"Sweetheart". You called him sweetheart, a word you never used to qualify him… Arthur was quick to give you some nicknames, from variations of your own name to pet names you adored. Your heart stopped beating for a second as you awaited Arthur’s response, being greeted with his sweet smile and painful sight, slowly passing the cloth on his shoulders.

"Lemme do this m’self, dove…" 

"Arthur, it’s not…-"

Arthur tried getting the wet cloth from your hands but ended up loosing balance. You quickly caught him before he would hit the ground, sighing as he whined, burying his head in the crook of your neck while his arms remained wobbly. How humiliating it was for him to be at your whole mercy ! Such a tough outlaw, skilled gunslinger… barely able to move his arms without whining like a sick child ! He was not fully himself, but somewhat happy to be taken care of.

"M’sorry…" he whispered. "I hate being like that…"

"It’s okay. Stay still for me, alright ?" 

"Sure…"

You were worried about Arthur’s health, but somewhat amused by what you were seeing at the moment. What a child… you knew that all men from the gang, no matter how tough they were, often behaved as if they were on their deathbeds whenever they were sick. A simple headache had led Bill to pretend he was dying, Dutch had once remained in his bed for three days because of a nasal congestion. You knew that Arthur was just a little sick at this moment, believing he was about to die too. 

"There you go." you said, passing the wet cloth over Arthur’s torso. "Let’s put on a new union suit." 

"I’m dying…" 

"No, you ain’t." 

Arthur used the last bits of energy he had to shrug. You quickly lifted his heavy legs up to get the bottom of his union suit off, not even bothering about him being naked. You had seen him undressed quite often, this wasn’t much of a discovery ! You wanted him dressed into something, that poor man was sick ! You carefully slipped a red union suit on him, buttoning it while Arthur looked at you. His eyes were half-closed, a soft smile was blooming on his face. You could easily tell he was not fully himself, just by the look he was giving you. 

"Are you hungry ?" you asked him, taking his face between your hands 

"I’d eat you raw, honeybee…" Arthur responded, his eyes twitching. "Maybe with some cranberry sauce, along with potatoes…" 

"Well… seems like you ain’t. Lay down." 

Arthur’s words made you blush, but his health was far too much important at the moment. He laid down, moaning as soon as his head touched his pillow. As you were on your way out of his tent to get him some stew, Arthur whined, causing you to shiver and turn back. He was looking at you, giving you a sick puppy glance, summoning enough energy to spread his arms wide for you to embrace him. 

"Don’ go…" he whimpered 

"Oh, Arthur…" 

You slowly walked back to his cot, your heart was fluttering as you could not even resist these puppy eyes. Arthur, even being so sick and probably a little needy, was still the charming man you adored. The most handsome man you had ever met, the sweetest gentleman gifting you with flowers, gems, antique alcohol bottles… who would have thought such an angelic-looking man was an outlaw and had blood on his hands ?

"Feeling needy, huh ?" you smiled, passing your hand through his sweaty hair 

"I’m gonna die…" Arthur whined. "Don’ leave me… I’m so sick…"

"I’ll be right back, sweetheart. I’ll come back with another tonic, wait for me." 

Arthur whined as he nuzzled his head into his pillow, allowing you to grab one of his blankets and cover him up to the shoulders. You passed your hand through his dirty blonde hair, causing him to smile a little before watching you leaving the tent. You nearly felt bad for leaving him ! You grabbed a bowl of stew and quickly ate it as Hosea gave you another of his tonics. 

"He must drink it before midnight, it will help him rest." Matthews told you as he gave you the bottle

"Alright. I’ll make sure of it." 

Hosea smiled and patted your shoulder before heading towards his bed made of a variety of different blankets, kissing the picture he had of his wife, laying down while keeping his eyes open for a moment. He watched you walk towards your tent, absolutely delighted to know his boy was having you around him. What a treasure you were for the gang, indeed ! So sweet, adorable and caring ! You headed back to your tent with Hosea’s tonic and were met with a rather pleasant sight.

"Oh." you smiled 

Arthur was asleep laying on his left side, facing the sunset. You slowly walked in to get a better glimpse of him, not even wanting to wake him up. He looked so peaceful, so sweet ! Who would have thought this good-looking man, having beautiful green orbs hidden under his eyelids and long eyelashes which could trigger anyone’s jealousy, had blood on his hands ? At first sight, nobody could have guessed Arthur was an outlaw rather than being just a really handsome man. What a shame that the only one not accepting his beauty was himself… 

While you were away from your tent, Arthur had battled to keep himself awake. He had pushed his pillow on the ground, not finding it comfortable enough, dragging the blanket over his body, then kicking it away, then dragging it back again. He was sleeping so peacefully that you did not even want to move the blanket a little over him. You smiled as you calmly sat by him, checking his temperature by kissing his forehead. 

"The fever’s gone…" you whispered

"Y/N ?…" Arthur mumbled

"No, no, sweetheart… go back to sleep…"

The soft sound of Arthur’s whine could be heard as his eyes cracked open. You expected to be met with a rather grumpy sight for interrupting his sleep but, as soon as his vision got clear enough to see what was around, Morgan smiled to you. Your sole presence had triggered a sudden happiness as he calmly took your hand and held it close to his chest. He liked it, he liked the way you took care of him. It felt good to have such an angel like you around, stitching up his wounds, giving him medicine, watching over him as he slept… he felt safe. 

You were melting, you felt butterflies fly in your belly as you kept analysing Arthur’s beautiful features and lovely smile. His usually green eyes had turned blue to the tears of pain he might have shed earlier, and due to this flu he had caught. What a handsome man he was ! Even with his high fever, dark rings under his eyes, sweaty hair… you could have given anything to prove him how handsome he was. Anything. Taking care of him while he was sick was giving you the perfect opportunity to enjoy his presence a little more, to admire this talented gunslinger and very skilled artist, whose large hands always came up with amazing and refined drawings. 

"Was dreamin’ of you…" he whispered 

"Oh ?" you smiled, gently caressing his hair. "What was I doing ?" 

"You’re wearin’ a white dress and a flower crown… and you’re singin’… that you loved me and all…" 

"Oh, did you like it ?" 

"Of course, ‘cause I love you…" 

This vast amount of butterflies could not stop flying in your belly, just this single sentence made your heart flutter. Arthur never truly voiced all his love for you, but being so tired and ill… his ‘introvert-filter’ was quick to disappear, as well as his overall grumpy behaviour. Arthur slowly rolled aside, patting his cot for you to lay down next to him. And, with such an adorable puppy glance, how could you refuse ? 

"Wait up, Arthur." you smiled. "Lemme just get my clothes off." 

It took you just a few seconds to take your shirt and skirt off, quickly laying next to Arthur who nuzzled his head in the crook of your neck, wrapping his arms around your waist while letting out a long and very relaxed moan. You chuckled as you felt his beard tickle you clavicles, his heavy breath getting slower and slower as he slowly dozed off in your embrace. 

"I love you too, silly man." you smiled, kissing his forehead  

Arthur moaned in return, making you smile as his grip on your waist tightened, passing your hands in his hair, caressing his skin, dropping a few subtle kisses on his forehead. What a man you had here, what a peculiar feller ! A literal bear whenever he was doing fine, but a young child whenever he was sick. You did not mind, you loved him for what he was, you loved him entirely. And you would nurse him back to health, whatever the price was. You did not care about getting sick yourself, Arthur’s recovery mattered the most at the moment. 

Nothing else mattered. 

[horsesarecreatures]

Hi! I’m a big fan of the great pictures u post/reblog and your clear passion for animals :) As an incoming law student I haven’t seen many other law students who have such full lives / take part in so many non-academic or career related activites outside of school. I would love to emulate a somewhat similar lifestyle once I begin law school, would you be willing to share about how you manage your time to maintain such a balance? Have a great day! ❤️

Aww thank you! There are a variety of factors, some related to my personality and others are just how my fate turned out.

Personality wise, I'm extremely introverted and prefer being alone most of the time. I'm not in a relationship, so I have more time to myself. I also only go out with friends like once a month during the school semesters, if that. Finally, I don't have a TV or many other technology distractions, which forces me to turn to my hobbies more when I'm bored.

Then I was very fortunate because I got accepted to my law school with a full scholarship (I had a 3.9 something undergrad GPA and 165 LSAT score). Less lucky is that my dad passed away a few years back. It was a horrible time for me, but I do acknowledge that I was luckier than some people in the same situation because I inherited a house, and used the extra money from selling my brother's during the COVID real estate boom to get an apartment really close to my campus (his house was more valuable than mine so I got some of the difference in value to make things more fair). These two things have taken a ton of financial pressure off me. I still have to work, but not insane amounts to pay off debt.

For whatever reason, I also just learn really well with standard teaching methods, and I'm a good test taker. I don't bring a laptop to class, and writing notes by hand has been shown in studies to improve memory retention. So to be honest I don't spend too much time studying and still manage to do good.

I know I post a lot about reselling, but that's not my main job. My main jobs are tutoring and babysitting. For tutoring, I make $60-$80 per session, so it's not minimum wage and I don't have to do it for hours everyday. Then for babysitting, I work for doctors/nurses/other people that need late late night shifts. These shifts pay more, and the kids are mostly sleeping when I'm there, so I'm able to do my readings and case briefings at work most week.

My current internship writing policy suggestions for a nonprofit is remote and has a flexible schedule, so I usually do that work late at night as well.

My sleep schedule is trash and tbh I don't sleep enough. But I get things done! Lol.

Also, I can't emphasize this enough, try not to commute to school from far away! Try to live nearby. So many of my classmates commute from NYC and I feel terrible for them. Many have told me that they initially planned to do homework on the train/subway, but the reality is they usually can't because of distractions or lack of a seat.

[anemonet]

Please please pleasp plea s pelas tell me abt ur suns desighm. I'm STARING at them it is so so incredible it's eye candy

Oh!!! Someone asked thank you hello:DD and aw thank you!! oki oki explaining time!!!

So to begin might be good to check out this post i made about pebbles and moon where i babble about older and newer iterator models and their differences. I'm bringing this up because timeline-wise I would stick suns somewhere before the early "mass manifactured" iterators like moon ( their not really mass manifactured but at some point i asume there was an explosion in production amounts) and the first couple iterators ( which i would guess are no longer around to be honest, the dont-murder-yourself protocol must come from somewhere, anyhow!)

Im placing suns here not only because i like visual variety but also because i get some free moving room design wise, because i like to think (and this is only my personal headcanon) that the earliest itertor models were not made for wider production. These lil fellas were made to Solve the Great Problem, and as we know anchients loved their religious stuff so i cant imagine the first couple iterators werent annocunced and made with alot of buzz around them, probably lovingly made and blessed by monks or something. Think like these are the solution and we will show that in their design, they just should look more cermonial and important, which leads into my actaul design choises!!

Suns design pulls on both the anchients religious ideas and ideals like my choise to use the bound feet look some anchients have and to not give suns a real face - I dont know how people have all the lore pearls read and memorized but from what we know from the industrial blue pearl, moon talks about how ancheints wore masks to:

"showing spiritual persuasion - covering the face as a way to symbolically abate the self"

which i took and ran with and therefore gave suns no face at all, they are creating something meant to ascend them, showing them holding up their values (the lack of "ego" the self)? and that also ties into how suns pearls- well actully first lets real quick explain why suns has pearls and jewerly, because it relates tothe second thing suns design pulls from: the ancheints love of just lots of decoration in fashion to absurd points. its brought up in a couple different places how its ironic that the ancheints preached for the barebone religious ideals of the jellyfish while also being lavish and leasure seeking and overall trying alot - "burdened by ambition" as moon says in the drainage green pearl- which i tied into suns design by adding shit tons of pearls and other pazzazz to suns puppet!!! the love of more is more is really what lies under suns design and what i like to think of as part of ancheint sense of how to look at the time, they are created to ascend them and for that they must look religious and hold up the ideals but also we must add so many clothing layers and jewerly becasue we like that, which is info we needed for me to bring back what i was gonna say which was that the pearls and jewels on suns designs (gold as that seems to be the favored jewerly material going by the murals in pebbles) have the scholar and martyr achivement symbols engraved in the pearls like the ammulets anchients wore (outskirts light blue pearl)! I went with those symbols because just karma ten would be boring and i dont actully have all the rainwolrd words and symbols sadly so we make do. and i think its a pretty good showcase how fashion and religion was combined.

I would also like to say that theres two things to bring up if we wanna take later iterator designs into the equaiton, which is one(1), hey wait why does sun look more like pebbles than moon?! which yes thank you for bringing it up i would like to contribute this to two factors, 1, cyclical design, pebbles is a call-back if you will, - suns more intricate look was probably scrapped by moons time, as theres not much point to dressing some machine up (i would speculate there was a shifts in how iterators were viewed in different times, a noteable case being the ashy green exterior pearl where its talked about the controversy of pebbles creation (also mentioned in some of the white pearl fragments), and i would think at some point itertors went from The Solution to machines who handle our production facilites (this is a crude summary but this is not what you asked for and i could talk about it for doube the wordcount as this post so moving on) this is of course not to say moon wasnt respected by her citizens (refer back to the exterior pearl) but she was not always a city lets just stick with that. anyhow what was i saying?pebbles? yes ok but when materials got cheaper it was possible to replicate it (suns more labour heavy design) again ( even if a bit less intricate as its a bit much work) so pebbles and suns share looks because of that, and then you will of course bring up wait hey a minute wasnt moons model clunkier because the science wasnt developed enough yet? how can an older design be more advenaced in looks? and the answer is its not!!! suns puppet is foremost a showpiece and somethign to sell in the iterators with, so actual function for the puppet wasnt to intresting (the real important bits is the actaul machine), i like to think that the early models had much less function in their limbs and was much more simplified (the puppet, im not sure about the mind thing) and because of that while suns design looks more modern it lacks alot of functions later models had, later when itertors self maintence became importnant it was replaced for the more praictical "older model" (moons) again note this is soley my own mad rambeling and connection made from the lore and not canon at all.

my last note would probably be to mention that suns keeps their wires neat and orderly cause they like it! (wire placement depends on the iteators preffernce, you cant tell me these super computers cant move around their wires into personalised looks) also yes they came with the pearl on the wires, probably hand crafted by some monk somewhere.

anyhow so suns mostly like that for show, and is probably a trademark for how those older iterators looked (i would put no significant harrasment in this era too, just cause of vibes^-^) I think their neat! and holy shit how much did i talk im so sorry, ahem uhm hope this was fun to read? thank you for the ask and have the sillies :DD

[sunderingstars]

what were your thoughts on take a slice and god ish? Any reason why it's specifically will stetsons's cover? And also just your thoughts in general while making the nsfw playlist lol

ʚ 💌 ɞ hi anon, thanks for the ask !! here’s my thoughts on all three:

take a slice by glass animals

⟢ i’m not sure entirely how to describe it, but i love the sound of this song! the way the beat goes up and down makes it feel almost like walking, in that sort of slow and assured way emphasized by the strategic placement of drawn-out notes. this is one of those songs i feel “sounds” like sampo to me — especially the confidence of the enunciation.

⟢ the lyrics also have some great phrases i associate with him, like “i don’t ever wanna pick a slice / one is pretty but the other lies” (tying into his penchant for half-truths, as well as his multiple identities as brughel poisson), “shitty old pistola / shot a bullet through my wallet” (mirroring how he refers to himself as “old” in-game and generally adopts a very money-centric lifestyle), and “sitting pretty in the prime of life / i’m so tasty and the price is right” (once again with the money — he may not be in what most would consider his “prime,” but i certainly think he would be confident enough to still make business deals of the more risqué variety).

⟢ of course, the twangy instrumentals near the end steal the show for me every time. similarly to songs like le monde, the fast, jumpy chords remind me of elation, specifically the “high” of adrenaline. this could tap into sampo’s hidden side; the potential “infectious enthusiasm” he carries with him on a daily basis. just because he isn’t as overtly chaotic as sparkle doesn’t mean he lacks the “high” of elation entirely!

god-ish by will stetson

⟢ interestingly enough, the original god-ish by pinocchiop comes across as more of a sparkle song to me! however, the english translation of will stetson’s version changes just enough of the lyrics for me to feel like it fits more with sampo (plus the male vocals work as a connection to sampo’s voice).

⟢ for example, the original song in japanese repeats the phrase “i’m so jealous” in part of the chorus, while stetson’s version changes it to “it’s got me going mad.” in my opinion, “jealousy” fits more with sparkle’s unhinged and unstable sense of self, while “it’s got me going mad” feels more grounded as a potential wearing away of sampo’s tolerance of elation.

⟢ additionally, the original has lines like “that hair, those eyes, that mouth / that perfume, those clothes, that makeup” that put the song in a bit more feminine light (which could still work for poisson, but my mind just personally goes to sparkle) while stetson’s “with your ugly hair dye, and your eyes, and overflowing lies / and your scent, and your clothes, and all the blush you buy” feels a little more androgynous to me!

⟢ my favorite lines of stetson’s for sure are “with your quoting, and how you boast, and your reviews / how you’re good with people, how you joke, all of your views / that’s god-ish, baby, face the facts / like that, like that / it’s got me going mad.” i just really like how that description fits sampo to a t (his confidence, his sense of humor, his smooth talking, etc.)! comparing it to godhood fits especially well with emanator!sampo theories too.

⟢ overall, i like how chaotic the song is, talking about godhood as a state of being that reaches so far above others yet is also a place of chaotic insanity. it feels very elation-coded to me, as being intertwined with a path so fluid and chaotic would likely put “higher power” in direct connection with “higher insanity.” the middle of the song especially reads as multiple parts of sampo pushing against each other, with existential angst (“it’s really hard while doing nothing to keep growing old”) and bored elation (“i don’t know what crap you’re saying, but it’s putting me to sleep”) swirling around in the same space.

⟢ it’s especially interesting how, after these parts go back and forth, “disgust” enters the picture to shut everything down and vault the song into pure egoism (“so alone ‘cause you’re smarter than the rest / the best, the best”). it works as a quick, contained way to show how the psychology of someone like sampo might work when taking into account the chaotic nature of elation — over time, he likely developed coping mechanisms to shut down the warring sides of his brain when they get too exhausting. i don’t know if that coping mechanism has anything to do with egoism necessarily, but it’s a fun thought experiment!

⟢ quick shout-out to the end for being a banger too: “love ends in breaking up, or there something like / your life ends in dying out, or something like / man, it sure was interesting to peek from behind / i liked it more when i’d dance and not ask why / that’s life.” lots of interesting connections here, like the purgatorial existence of “something like” trying to quantify what the equivalent of mortal frameworks would be for a god, as well as longing for a past time of blissful ignorance. 10/10!

sampocore (sexy ver.) playlist

⟢ honestly, this was more of an exercise in battling my repression than anything else — i thought it would be interesting to see if i could find explicit songs that i thought matched sampo’s vibe, and so i did!

⟢ my personal favorites are taste of the divine by shaker, azee, & cobra (emanator!sampo goes crazy with this for sure — it carries across the specific vibe of eye-opening, almost religious sex that i think would be par for the course with an higher being like emanator!sampo), prada & versace by chris grey (a refined take on sampo’s con-man nature — he’s older and more mature, after all, and he’s nothing if not one to chase after expensive things), and sex money feelings die by lyyke li (something more introspective to balance out the adrenaline, a better look into how sampo might see sex as similar to money — a method of coping with his own existence).

⟢ overall, i see his “vibe” matching a lot of chase atlantic and chris grey songs with a sprinkling of doja cat mixed in for good measure. i tend to favor the refined side of things when it comes to sampo, leaning on more of the older, experienced con-man than the outward sleaze most characters probably see!

⟢ also, chase atlantic recently came out with “doubt it,” which i can interpret as being how sampo’s earlier elation days might’ve gone, especially if he found himself in a position of power as an emanator, etc.! (what can i say, “put your money where your mouth is” just speaks for itself LOL)

🪐 .𖥔 ݁ ˖ asks are still open for anyone who wants to request songs :))

[thegeminisage]

This is weird of me but you said you're reading Jane eyre and it's my favorite book (it does get better in the sense that her whole upbringing is so rough and depressing) and so many people Don't Get It because they're like oh this is a weird relationship and Rochester is a dick and Jane is so meek but I feel like you'll get it, but I feel like it's worth saying that Rochester IS a HUGE DICK but Jane is NOT MEEK she's WEIRD AS SHIT, I feel like that gets lost in the historical context A LITTLE BIT but she's the kind of weird dramatic sassy bitch where most people don't know she hates them, she's a hater, but Rochester does and LOVES it and she loves that he's a dick and the whole book is SO SO much about an abuse survivor deciding what SHE wants, it's basically a female escape and power fantasy. Sorry I'm so so so not normal about Jane Eyre, if you watch an adaptation after watch the Ruth Wilson miniseries not the Fassbender movie ANYWAY I'd love to see your thoughts when you're done okay bye

this is such a funny ask to get because i am LITERALLY reading jane eyre against my will. here's what happened: i got serial reader because i felt like i should read more books (i already did p&p!!), and on my list of "read laters" was jane eyre, and when emily saw it they were like YOU'RE GONNA HATE JANE EYRE BUT YOU HAVE TO READ IT. and i was like why on earth would i read a book i'm going to hate this is over 100k long. but for some reason i am reading it. and so i''ve only JUST finished like chapter 5 which means so far mostly what i've read is poor jane getting abused by a variety of people. and i'm like WHY WOULD YOU HAVE ME READ THIS but they said the same thing that the character jane is very important. and i do get that because she's already yelling at mrs reed for being a horrible old bitch or whatever and so good for her. i am going to keep reading unless it becomes absolutely wretched.

re: the movies...i actually had seen the michael fassbender one a long time ago, but i barely remember it except i know the part about the wife in the attic and also i remember thinking it was boring and confusing. i will not WILL NOT watch the other movie because even though i kind of fell in love with ruth wilson watching HDM, i have become absolutely radicalized against the very SIGHT of toby stephens's face thanks to pjo passions, and i absolutely refuse to look upon him because the very sight of him fills me with revulsion and rage second only to b*nedict c*mberbatch. sorry. i also read an article that was like, the movies can never be good anyway because they can't break the fourth wall the way the book can in narration, they lack jane's Personality. so that's all fine i guess, i can live without adaptations. JUST for you though i will try to make another post when im finished <3

[dojae-huh]

The reason ILA soars in the first place was because of members being funny and ‘real’ and relatable lifestyle (struggle of living alone). Real here means laidback and doesn’t care much about the camera and just do whatever they usually do in their life off camera. Example: Hwasa with her lack of care for appearance, kian with his unkempt place, etc. And a lot of idols who showed up on this show happens to be amateur at living alone. Or that’s the image they’re going by.

Now the image doyoung is showing is too perfect for this show. So people find it boring. Cause how can they find it relatable. If he shows this side in show like omniscient pov or my ugly duckling idt it’s a problem (is this even a problem? 😂😂). Anyway it’s a wrong set of audience. As someone who watches this show, the vibe is all about struggling, yes struggling with anything. This doyoung is too capable. House clean, cooks well eat well, good relationship with bro, sociable, kind, wears makeup during this filming(?) like where’s the struggle here?

But as fans we also know that he is really a capable person and def not laidback, so we don’t really get surprised with this. And if that’s the real him, wouldn’t he be fake for purposely being funny or laidback or you know care less abt anything just to cater to the audience? If we really wants to keep it real here. Haha. Suddenly, being a capable person is not real anymore.

However, it cant be denied that there are certain parts that maybe is a bit much? Like he’s highlighting that characteristic of him being shy, talking in aegyo alone (bruhh this could give a lot of people ick for no reason), being kind (people can get uncomfortable if shown too much kindness🥲). But these traits contrasts so much with him as the panelist. Look at him roasting ahn jaehyun. Now you telling me he’s the same one in the video? So people are confused and concluded that it’s just image making. Idols already get the stigma of keeping up to the good image already, so🤷🏻‍♂️.

It’s only 3 eps in, he could go to other varshow that suits him more? Or how can he win this set of audience? We’ll see, hehe it’s nice to see this new challenge pop up. Anyway, imo, he really is not the naturally funny type honestly. He’d shine more being snarky. But this one is a bit tricky. If u do it wrong or with the wrong cast, people will find u rude and obnoxious.

Haha, thanks for the explanation.

Wait, didn't Doyoung struggle with the bike and choosing food in the supermarket, or approaching the stall that sells his favourite food? Lmao, he underestimated how much "struggle" he had to put into "laidback". Doyoung doesn't know how to not be a perfectionist, he failed to factor in enough of the needed ingredient. He showed struggle, the struggle of being relatable and bad at something... lol.

Oh, OK, I've watched only one half of the supplements episode, let me look into my drafts for my commentary.

And I wrote:

"I do believe Do is shy with strangers, however, he evidently played it up at the market. He knows he needs to create content for variety, be entertaining to watch, he was always loud about making reactions, coming up with topics, making themes. In the past GM mentioned how he behaved not in the usual manner shooting their dinner at Kim's house."

Doyoung does fake too much, he isn't good with judging how far is enough. Remember his 24h relay video? It was awfully fake, but it worked, so he got positive reinforcement, I guess.

Perhaps we are witnessing the problem of old habits, transitioning between mediums. What works for k-pop fans (cuteness, aegyo, wholesomeness) doesn't always for gp who are looking for a different kind of entertainment.

Do's approach on Master of the house was changing slowly his little rabbit image into a sassy bunny. Maybe he is repeating this pattern here. Or doesn't think that showing two images is a problem. He has always been sassy on all panels, afterall.

Maybe it is not a problem of Do. And the fans who complain are a bad representation (as only those who didn't like him will bother to say so in that topic, plus he has antis who can camp there).

I'm saying so because Do is not on his own, there is the show's team with him. His activities, what he is planning to do are discussed in advance. (In no way going with a brother for a wholesome firefly searching trip is a struggle even on paper). If the director of the show didn't like his content, he wouldn't air it. And certainly not invite again. Perhaps they are trying to shake up things, introduce different type of "I live alone".

Anyway, hopefully Doyoung finds that Qoo topic and takes notes.

Doyoung, time to go on another hike!

[thehappiestgolucky]

I, for one, would love to hear you talk about monster hunter. *Hands you one "free rant about monster hunter" card*

You have genuinely no idea the beast you just unleashed but i am taking this card in my mouth and tearing it like a rabid animal

Monster Hunter - despite being very well known in Japan, still feels like a hidden gem in the western world. And I get it - its a hard game for beginners to get into because of just how many mechanics there are and especially when I first discovered it back in like 2012 ish. It also wasn’t well marketed. In a time where everyone sung nothing but praises about Skyrim - I found a game that genuinely changed my life. I mean that so literally.

I had practically gave up on art and things that made me happy - and whilst I still have pretty intense depressive episodes - I nearly quitted art altogether back then. You can thank Monster Hunter that I’m even here being able to ramble about it.

The games breathed a life into an ecosystem that I had never really seen done in games before and after - the only current contender being Rain World. I’ll be blunt - I don’t like Skyrim, which made me so sad as a kid. The combat is clunky and I was bored so quickly with the lack of coolness from the dragons. So to see what Monster Hunter brought in such a variety - made me want to art again. Every creature is thought out in both individual and ecosystem - how they interact with other and how they adapt to their habitat. And some designs are fun, cool or downright scary - and each one fights like you would expect it to.

My first Monster Hunter was 3 Ultimate on the 3ds - after seeing one of the adverts on the TV featuring a Brachydios chasing down hunters down a volcanic cavern - cornering them. Little me was in such awe - it was the coolest design I had seen in ages. I couldn’t get many games but I managed to get that one after pestering my mum a lot - and I’ll be honest I was fucking terrified at first! but then I got better and understood it - started just fighting the monsters. Its an experience I’ll never forget. When you spend nearly the entire 50 minutes you get fighting an absolute tank of a monster because you don’t have the right equipment - but you keep going even when you run out of healing items because when you do manage to win its a rush that I still have never felt in any other game. It both rewards and punishes risks - it entices you to grind and prepare and throw that all out the window.

I’ll be the first to admit Monster Hunter has flaws - especially the game I first got - but they’re flaws that keep getting sorted out with each iteration of the franchise. For all those flaws you battle through to see and feel the grit and beauty of the game - the brutalness it offers but the rewards when you each and every time make it step by step.

I felt a rush finally beating the Lagiacrus that terrified me, I was grinning stomping on the Brachydios that dominated the trailer, the awe of the Caedeus in a unique and almost somber fight against an ocean god - and the fear, terror, adrenaline, frustration and euphoria of solo falling the Dire Miralis, a living volcano that boiled a sea by its presence. And beating an Alatreon is still such a difficult, nervewracking task. But you still try. you may lose, but you try again.

It’s a game with memorable and beloved characters - full of life and fun, jokes and genuine touching stories hidden behind simple interactions. Each receptionist that you get the quests from have their own unique personality and goals that you learn from passively just doing the quests - 3 Ultimates guild receptionist always pulling out her hand written book of monster information basically boiling down to “Oh thats awful, well good luck!” or even just “Whoops nothing here! Dont die!” is genuinely so fun and engrossing than any tragic story for a quest giver can give to me. And bro - Monster Hunter is not known for its story or characters, it’s known for its monsters and gameplay and rightfully so.

I know the complaints of Capcom - but as a FPS disliker I can firmly say they just don’t fucking miss with combat. The giant Great Sword feels clunky and meaty - and landing a hit with it feels like you’ve torn a chunk out of the monster. The small lathe Dual Blades feel like the risky weapon they are, sacrificing protection for raw DPS that can double for status effects as it quickly repeatedly applies them. The newest weapons added being the Insect Glaive and Charge Blade being such unique mechanics that through iterations of games still hold their light.

And the base mechanics of these weapons are hard to learn they are - you only realise how many hidden and complicated mechanics and combos there are after so many hours of playing. You will never steamroll Monster Hunter on your first game - but the more you do it later games makes you feel like the veteran you are, adapting to the new mechanic whilst having the basics down. Its a learning curve each game has actively tried to make easier and easier to overcome.

That’s another thing about this franchise that I adore - they iterate each time, trying new things with each entry to both make every one feel unique from the others despite sharing the base mechanic each time, and trying new things. 3 Ultimate had underwater combat, which was received poorly, and as much as I want it back for its unique cast of monsters - and to bring my beloved Lagiacrus back its full glory, I know why they’re hesitant to bring it back. 4 Ultimate focussed on a mounting mechanic - the Insect Glaive was created with that in mind. It was received well but informed it was overpowered. So it stuck around for Generations Ultimate but that wasn’t the main mechanic of Gen, Generations introduced Hunting Styles - anime power moves basically. And they were fun as hell. In World Iceborne they introduced a new style altogether - a basic slate to show the new polish of the franchise. The art style was still there - the iteration brought the franchise to a new light. Hunting styles vanished in replacement of the Grappling Hook thing - which was uhh mixed. In the latest entry - Sunbreak - they mixed the grappling and hunting styles together in such a unique and fun way - introducing a new way to explore the world and use your combo knowledge to really dominate a hunt.

They try - and god when they do it well they do it well.

Monster Hunter was not my first game ever. That was Pokemon Pearl. And whilst that means the Pokemon franchise does hold a gem in my heart - I’d be dishonest if I didn’t mention Monster Hunter Stories - a spin off to Monster Hunter I didn’t see coming. Its everything I wanted out of Pokemon. Its everything I still want out of Pokemon.

And the first game was basic - it had a fairly generic but heart warming story and the characters still shone as fun as they always have. Reverto my beloved.

But then came the sequel. I didn’t believe we’d ever get one because the first game flunked in the west.

And just like each iteration of the main franchise before - Stories 2 did exactly that - change. Be better, learn from previous mistakes and change. You could bring in your knowledge of the main games to fight the monsters - you can build your team in any way you wanted - and the story matured with it. I urge every disheartened Pokemon fan to give the free demo on the Switch a shot. Its so worth it. Its the one I recommend to newcomers BECAUSE its so much more accessible and you never have to play the main games to adore the nature of the franchise. Even watch a Kinship move compilation if nothing else - its everything I wanted Z moves to be and more.

I will say - it isn’t a game for people with flashing problems or camera issues. Its unfortunate, that it limits a bunch of people despite the settings in place that aim to reduce that. But if you can handle it I urge you to give the free demos a shot. You might not like it - you might find it’s not to your tastes or you don’t like how it plays. And that’s fine. Games are for the people it appeals to. Monster Hunter simply appeals to me.

Look at the monsters, watch the ecology videos on youtube. Its wonderful, its goofy, its serious. Genuinely seriously look at the MUSIC. There’s a reason Proof of a Hero played during the Olympics. Listen to it now/lh

The community is… alright. There’s a larger amount of gamer bros unfortunately but some are gems. Hell, the official Twitch livestream gaming each week is really fun and wholesome! I just listen to it when I’m doing things because its just people! Playing a game!

Overall, its just a game I hold so dearly to my heart. It’s creative, the devs care so much and it shows through every piece of art, each monster, everything that this franchise is. Its love. Its nature. And its wonderful.

[lgcsujin]

A NONSENSICAL AWARD

Sujin could be wrong, but it would appear that the purpose of this final award ceremony was...to be funny.

He almost didn't know what to say, as he walked across the plush red carpet in a suit lovingly picked out by his personal shopper to accept his trophy for being The Most Well Hydrated. Fine, he did drank a lot of water during the filming of this variety show because he wasn't used to being on air and was admittedly a tad nervous. As there were no better methods to relieve his anxiety, every time he felt stressed or uncomfortable, he took a sip of water.

Since he was a background new actor nobody, Sujin expected for his nervous habit to go unnoticed. Unfortunately, he was wrong. The show crew clearly knew well enough to present him with an award and the last time he checked, there was some dude on social media making a compilation of him drinking water in various outfits and frames because he thought it was hilarious. That bastard.

"Thank you," he said, because what else were you supposed to say upon receiving such an amazing award? "I am honored to be deemed The Most Well Hydrated." Sujin smiled, lifting the trophy slightly to better present it to the audience. He did not know how to be funny, but sometimes made his friends laugh by being intensely serious. So perhaps he shall try that - just be intensely serious throughout this entire finale.

"Everyone already knows this, but the human body is roughly 60% water. A lack of water intake can cause a variety of issues such as headaches, dizziness, fatigue and dry skin." The horror, oh the horror of dry skin. "As a child, I did not understand water's significance but thankfully, my mother was there to guide me." People often mentioned their family members during significant awards, right? "I think she would be proud to see me today, standing here as The Most Well Hydrated. Thank you, mother, for your advice, constant reminders and never wavering belief in my ability to continue consuming water." Sujin injected some passion into his typically monotone voice.

"I would also like to thank my fellow actors, for supporting me on this journey. Especially Mr. Yoo, for letting me have some of his water on the day my bottle ran empty. Thank you." He should probably wrap this up now. People were probably getting bored of hearing about water. "I also appreciate all of you who are watching." Though how they would possibly contribute to his hydration level, he couldn't make up on the spot. "Thank you very much."

[lexsnotdead]

I absolutely loved BG1 and 2, Neverwinter Nights Hordes of the Underdark and Neverwinter Nights 2 too are among my most favourite RPGs. But Larians writing, particularly in D:OS2 turned me off so much :( How different is BG3?

big wall of text under the cut and before anything else i want to say that criticizing a game does not equal not liking it

i thought a lot about my response to this ask, since i must admit i have never played bg&bg2 and jumped straight into the hype train of bg3. and i'm genuinely curious what exactly about dos2 turned you off that much. here's what i personally think:

i played d:os1 and d:os2 and while i'm a big fan of the latter… dos1 couldn't keep me entertained even when playing with a friend in coop, which shows just how exhaustively boring and unmemorable it was. i really love dos2 and despite what i will say next, nothing is gonna change my love for this game. but. imma be honest, it was 3 and a half characters that kept me playing. i love sebille and lohse, i love malady — the mystery around her has its own appeal, but it's still a huge miss not to expand on such intriguing character as herself. i slightly care about ifan and fane, i couldn't give a lesser fuck about beast, i fucking hate the red prince and his writing is one of most unlikable from any rpg game i ever played (i can elaborate. but that's a post for another time). in short: lack of memorable characters, and those who are there have to make up in quality rather than quantity.

and larian is still... larian. their ambition makes them bite more than they can chew, you don't need to be nitpicking on purpose to notice just now empty act 3 of d:os2 was compared to fort joy or driftwood. in similar-ish way act 3 of bg3 feels less polished in terms of performance and content. like they even had to add an alternative ending to karlach's quest only after the game's release lol. there are quite a lot of bugs and players who are doing an "evil" playthrough like me found themselves deprived of content — sometimes you're just locking yourself out of quests, encounters, characters entirely because of decisions you made, quite literally making the game harder for yourself.

another important thing that i'd point out that dos2 felt kinda lacking in terms of the character creation because ocs always felt less immersive and shallow compared to the playable origins (i had the time of my life playing as lohse, tho). i know people who managed to have fun filling the blank spaces with their imagination, but i'm not one of those people, unfortunately. when i tried creating a drow character in bg3, however, every third npcs made sure to glare at me distrustfully and be fantasy racist towards the drow. like really? thanks for noticing! this might sound weird, but i liked that. it enhanced my feeling of immersion thus making it more satisfying to play. like yeees... yes... i indeed am a drow!

i'd rather stop focusing on its shortcomings because it feels unfair to larian when they are listening to the playerbase and trying their best to deliver patches as quick as possible. after all, what makes a good dnd adventure for me is always the story and characters — banal it may be, as long as it is fun, it is a good dnd game. and bg3 is very fun and addictive. there's this unique feeling when you're planning your next playthrough and considering what you would've done differently when still doing your first. i like it more compared to dos2, because... i'm not sure why myself? interpersonal interactions just feel a bit deeper, and i actually care about almost every companion, even the ones i did not expect to care about (like gale, astarion, shadowheart). and variety of the character creation, of course. and i can bet on bg3 being next the goty haha

to sum this all up:

if you like dos:2, you will like this game

if you like dnd e5, you will also like this game

if you like bg1 and bg2 then i genuinely don't know i'm sorry

[kadavernagh]

TIMING: Current LOCATION: The Stripe Club (?) PARTIES: Regan & Felix SUMMARY: Felix found an upscale turtleneck store and they're going with Regan to get some new turtlenecks. It's not an upscale turtleneck store. CONTENT: Animal abuse allusions

“I bet behind that other curtain, there’s a whole section of — of turtlenecks and hats. And — And maybe other things! Jackets! I bet there’s so many jackets!”

Throughout their time living in Wicked’s Rest as an adult, Felix had found their help requested for a variety of different tasks. They’d assisted several people with moves, often earning a free pizza for their troubles. They’d done odd jobs for little more than a thank you and a pat on the back. They’d lent money to near strangers with promises of repayment they’d never seen. They didn’t mind it. It felt good to be useful, to have a purpose. They sought it out themself, sometimes, asked directly if they could help people with things. It made them feel good in a way not many things seemed to, these days.

So they were excited for the prospect of doing so for Dr. Kavanagh. She seemed kind enough, and she’d let them take care of her lawn already. If she needed help buying a turtleneck for her upcoming trip to Ireland, who was he to say no? Felix stood outside the store they’d found with a quick online search, waiting for her approach. When they saw her, they waved.

“I think they only sell striped turtlenecks,” they admitted, nodding to the tasteful sign on the door. “But they might have plain black or white ones, too. You wouldn’t believe how hard it was to find a store that just sold turtlenecks!” The ad they’d found for this one had been… a little weird, but they were pretty sure they’d read it correctly. Necks had been mentioned several times. What else could it be? “Are you ready?”

------

Saol Eile was sorely lacking in fine clothes in general, and turtlenecks were a rarity. Regan never had the luxury of being choosy with color and material. So she needed to stock up, really stock up, before moving back. She had every neutral under the beigebow, black turtlenecks, green ones, white ones, and that fancy turtleneck that came from the website Siobhan tipped her off to (how aggravating that one was so soft; she swallowed down bitterness whenever she looked at it). She even had multiple of each color specifically so she could modify one set (a nice way of saying mutilate with holes) and spare the other. But she still lacked the classic striped turtleneck. 

How fortunate that she met someone who was just as normal and boring as she was. Felix was one of the most sensible humans she had met, and she could think of no better person who could provide assistance. They had already proven themselves useful by finding a store specializing in striped turtlenecks. It sounded exclusive, too. Club always added that flair. Regan gave Felix a pleased nod (they were just about what she had pictured… maybe a little taller, and with worse posture, and a nice scar for added intrigue). Their eyes registered mostly confusion and the way their eyes scanned all around reminded Regan of Van when the child was overwhelmed, which was most of the time. Regan fixed the collar on her current turtleneck – a plain white one, intended to provide an example of her fashion sense so they could compare options to a baseline. 

“I’m impressed you managed to find this place,” Regan said, looking up at the sign, almost contentedly. “I find that stores specializing in one niche product must be truly excellent at producing it. So I will have the best striped turtleneck in Ireland.” That made her feel less content. More hollow. But she pushed through it just as she pushed through the door. 

And they were greeted with… silence. There was no ringing bell ushering them in, and it was dark, with strobing white lights that covered the entire interior with black and white stripes. There also appeared to be dark curtains framing a much larger area, where she could see the movement of dozens of people and spotlights waving around. It looked like a nightclub. Weird. She turned to an employee – who was wearing head to toe stripes and waving excitedly at the two of them. As Regan got closer, he seemed to pull back. Startled. Maybe scared. Regan looked at Felix, brow pushed together. “This is a strange turtleneck store, but I don’t get out much. They might have changed substantially in recent years.” She turned to ask the employee about it but he shrank away. “Um, maybe you should… ask.”

------

Felix preened a little under the praise. An old habit, and a bad one; they had always been something of a people pleaser, always responded to situations with raised voices by trying to placate and correct their own actions rather than holding other people accountable for theirs. But Dr. Kavanagh offered the compliment with no expectations, and Felix liked that, even if it was a small thing. It made them feel all the better about helping her out with this particular mission, made him want to find a good turtleneck that much more. The one she was wearing now was nice. Felix wondered if they should use it as a blueprint while browsing. 

“I think you’re right,” they agreed. “When a store specializes in one thing, it means they can spend a lot of time making it better.” How did one make a turtleneck better? Felix wasn’t actually sure. Softer material? Sturdier? More… neck? All seemed to be options for what Regan might be looking for. “I bet, um… I bet everyone in Ireland will want to know where you got it.” Was it the right thing to say? He wasn’t sure. Something seemed to cross over her features at the mention of her move, and Felix wondered absently why she was going. A familial obligation, maybe? They could relate to that. They thought of their father’s cabin, tucked away in the woods where they’d never wanted to be but had stayed anyway. Family could make you do all kinds of things you didn’t want to do. Sometimes, Felix wondered if that was all family really was. 

Shaking the thought from their mind, they offered Regan another smile and nodded, following her through the door to the turtleneck shop. But… the inside wasn’t quite what they’d expected. Felix blinked as he glanced around, struggling to see in the dark with the disorientation of the flashing lights throwing them off. It would be difficult to find a good turtleneck at this rate. How were they supposed to make sure it was the right one when they’d barely be able to see it? And the silence was… weird. It looked like there should have been music playing, something with a beat that shook the walls and the floor, but there was nothing. You could have heard a pin drop. 

Felix looked to the employee, who seemed happy to see them only until Regan got close. When she spoke, it seemed to echo through the quiet space. Her voice wasn’t loud, but it might as well have been deafening. Whatever silence existed here was heavy, blocking out every hint of street noise from outside. “Uh…” Felix whispered without meaning to, afraid to break the silence. “Yeah. I’ve never been to a turtleneck store, so… maybe this is how they are?” They shifted their weight, nodding at her suggestion and walking over to the employee. Offering a hesitant smile, they nodded. The employee relaxed a little, then nodded back. “We’re looking for… the turtlenecks?” Felix said softly. The employee smiled again, nodding and saying nothing. Felix turned back to Regan with an expression of confusion.

------

“Yes, um, I’ve never been in such a specialty store. This might be customary. Remind me how you found this place? Good reviews? It’s… unique. Maybe this is what Marcy means when she says a store is boogie.” If Felix did not find this unsettling, Regan decided that she would not either. She could look past the lighting, the wall to wall stripes. What she did not like was the employee trying to scramble away from the two of them, like he was in the presence of a monster. Regan’s mouth open to ask if he was okay, and his eyes grew so wide his beret toppled off his head. Her mouth closed. Self-conscious, she tapped her neck to make sure her necklace was still secure – there as ever. So what was he afraid of? Regan shook her head. Best to forge ahead. She waved to Felix to follow and pushed through the velvet curtains.

Silence could be loud, Regan knew. She felt it vibrating in her skull after each scream, the way the world seemed to stand still, like it was stuck in Saol Eile's famous tar pit. This was like that, but far more uncanny – a barely-remembered dream. Or nightmare. All of the weird, individual pieces of the room and their situation began to come together. Though she had never gone for recreational purposes, this was not her first time in what looked like a strip club. This was the first time there wasn’t a body to collect, though. There were stripes on every surface and dozens of mimes sat and stood silently around a stage with a bar and some tables. The harsh spotlight made the center of attention obvious: a scantily-clad mime, possessing only a few stripes on its body, prowled onto the stage, each flick of the wrist and curl of the lips exaggerated and unfamiliar. Regan couldn’t look away. The mime continued down a catwalk, and for a second, it seemed to lock eyes with Felix. What was it – she watched with equal parts fascination and horror as it slowly, almost teasingly, peeled one of the stripes off.

She must have gasped. And it must have been louder than she thought. At once, it was more than just the center mime looking at them. There were about 30 pairs of fearful eyes turned in their direction. “We’re… looking for turtlenecks. Is this the right place?”

------

“Right. I bet it’s, like… a European thing.” Were turtlenecks European? Felix thought they remembered some painting or artwork years ago of Frenchmen in turtlenecks, with their little hats resting atop their heads. And, come to think of it, wasn’t that employee over there wearing a French-looking hat? This was probably just some sort of French store. It felt French, really. Satisfied with the explanation, Felix nodded to themself. “Uh, yeah. It had… crazy good reviews. No, um, words in any of them, but they were all five stars? And nobody has all five star reviews, right? So they must be great.” Even if the employees were a little jumpy. Maybe they didn’t get many customers? It could have spooked them, having two people walk in off the street if they usually went days without seeing any customers at all. Felix hoped they weren’t patrons of the Grit Pit, seeing him and fearing Wildcat, but most of them seemed more afraid of Dr. Kavanagh than anything. Maybe they knew she was a turtleneck expert and were afraid she might tank their review score if they failed to find her a suitable turtleneck?

Mind spinning with ways to explain away the strangeness of it all, Felix let themself lead the way further into the room. He was not a confident person. In fact, he was quite the opposite. Felix tended to second guess every move they made, tended to wonder if they were breathing wrong with each inhale. That was no different here, in this strange turtleneck store. Each step forward was careful and cautious, like they expected to be thrown out on the street for allowing their foot to touch the wrong patch of carpet. A few of the employees watched them, glancing back to Dr. Kavanagh warily every few seconds as she followed. Felix glanced up, spotting a stage with a… strangely dressed person who was looking right at them and… were they taking off their skin? Felix paled, looking away just as the stranger began to contort their body around an invisible pole, bringing a leg up at an impossible angle and spinning around something that didn’t visibly exist. 

Dr. Kavanagh broke the silence, and the relief was crushing. One of the employees was pushed forward by a few others, trembling as he stepped forward. He crossed the room, coming over to Regan and pressing a finger against her lips in a shushing motion. Another took Felix by the hand, tugging them back towards another curtain. More relief broke through, and they looked back to Dr. Kavanagh. “The turtleneck displays must be through that curtain,” they said, still in a whisper. “This is probably just… the greeter section. Like, um, like they have at Walmart?” 

------

In the time it took to blink, the mimes had Felix. Regan was slow to notice, too preoccupied with the mime that had pulled up right in front of her face, and dared touch a finger to her. Humans had no right (except one). They needed to keep their oily fingers off of her (except one). Regan swiped the mime away like the irritating gnat it was, and that was when she realized Felix was gone. She could hear them, though. Something about a different section… wait, they found the turtlenecks? Of course. They had to be here. All of those reviews needed to make some kind of sense.

The mimes parted for her, seemingly pleased (despite some of them having painted tears on their faces) that Regan was going in the desired direction anyway, in search of Felix. She pushed through more long velvet curtains and had to marvel at the sheer size of this place, and how much smaller it looked from the outside. This appeared to be behind the stage, more curtains providing a barrier and sparing them from that catwalk. They were closed. Not a priority. She'd find Felix and they would leave before that spotlight would ever strike them (and maybe purchase some turtlenecks on the way out if they could actually find any).

The mimes were silently buzzing, moving this way and that in the most dramatic of fashions. As Regan continued to carve her way through them, many glared in her direction. A few shook. “Felix?” 

It took her too long to realize that not everyone back here was a mime. There was Felix, sitting on a lone stool in the middle of a sea of black and white. They had two mimes hunched over them, one gesturing like he was painting something  and the other holding something flat. Together, they gave the impression of an artist with a brush and some paint. 

The mimes were painting Felix.

She needed to end this. “Hey, come on. This is a terrible store. I can't find a single item for sale, and everyone is greasy. Stop this. We are leaving.” The mimes scattered like ants for a second but a few brave ones approached. Put their hands on her. “Do not touch me,” Regan snapped, as the mimes shoved her forward, making a strange gesture in the air between them like they were locking a door. The biggest mime tipped his head back, opened his mouth, and dropped the invisible key down his gullet. Regan snarled and a scream was quickly conjured by her lungs, but when she opened her mouth, she heard the screech, but no one else was covering their ears or flinching away. What? And why did it sound like an echo? Like the sound was bouncing around her. She tried again, blasting the closer mime with a scream that should have made the shingles fall from the roof. But nothing. She just turned toward Regan, a grotesque smile pulling the makeup across half her face, and showing her impossibly white teeth. “Did you take my scream from me?” Regan asked sharply, but her voice sounded like an echo, too, and once more, no one seemed to hear her. “Hey, I’m trying to speak to–” She walked forward intending to approach the mime, and walked face-first into a flat, invisible surface. 

------

Felix was expecting something pretty specific as they were led behind the magical curtain. Rows and rows of turtlenecks, fashionably displayed on mannequins in intimidating poses. But as they were tugged further and further into the back room, they couldn’t help but note a very distinctive lack of turtlenecks. In fact, there were zero turtlenecks. Felix was beginning to think that they might have misunderstood the function of this store, and they were trying to think of a polite way to bow out. Maybe they could buy something small at the register? It seemed mean to leave a store without buying anything at all, didn’t it? 

Except… where was the register, exactly? Felix glanced around, but they didn’t see anything that resembled a checkout counter. “Hey, um, what —” One of the employees pushed them gently onto a black and white striped stool. “What do you guys sell here? We, uh, we’re in the market for… something. We’re not sure what yet! But if you tell us what you sell, maybe we can buy it from you!” One of the employees held up their hand as if there was something in it, though there was nothing Felix could see. Were they displaying their inventory? Why was it invisible? 

They were surprised when the employee began making strange gestures over their body, feeling the sensation of being touched without seeing anything making contact. Felix blinked again, looking down. They were painting him, somehow. With invisible brushes? And every place those brushes ‘touched’ somehow became utterly devoid of colors. Their shirt had been a bright green when they’d entered, but now there were splotches of monochrome without a hint of its original vibrance. What kind of invisible paint were they using? Was it washable? Felix really liked this shirt. 

Regan entered the backroom then, and Felix shot her a look of desperation. They really didn’t want to be rude, but they weren’t enjoying their time at this not-a-turtleneck shop as much as they had anticipated. “Oh, we should really…” One of the employees put one hand over another, somehow lifting himself off the ground and over Felix’s head, where he began painting their hair. “I think we might be in the wrong place. Right, Dr. Kavanagh?”

They turned back to Regan for support, but something strange was going on. Her mouth was open, there was a determined look on her face, but there was no sound. It happened again. Her throat was moving, but there was only silence. Then, her lips were forming words that didn’t reach Felix’s ears, and she was walking forward, her face flattening against… nothing. There was nothing there. “Is this a bit? Regan, are you doing a bit?” She didn’t seem like the kind of person who liked bits.

------

She couldn’t hear Felix, only trace the movements of their mouth with her eyes. Her head spun and it was possible she was seeing things, but even when she squinted, it looked like Felix was dolled up like one of them. Had… had Felix been lost? Did the mimes convert them? She needed to help them. Regan bounded toward Felix and– the invisible surface was still there. She forgot. Her entire body rammed into it and her vision swam with black and white speckles. The complete and utter silence of the room only made her grandmother’s disappointment pound louder. This time, she reached her hand out slowly, tentatively, and her fingertips grazed against an invisible expanse of… something. It was flat, not particularly warm nor cold, and it did not give to any amount of force from her hands. But Regan was reminded, as Cliodhna still sounded in her ears with every ache, that she was proof even the most sturdy of things could be broken.

She could at least spare Felix some humiliation. Regan placed her other hand flat against the object, ready for it this time, and screamed. And screamed some more, until her lungs stretched and her throat rasped and she needed to stop. But… nothing. Nothing happened. Regan slumped back, defeated. Some force of nature she was; she could not even destroy something so insubstantial enough to be perfectly invisible. No one even blinked, and the wall did not offer so much as a vibration. She rested her hands on her knees, panting, and as she caught her breath she saw the mimes seemed to be fawning over Felix. One in particular couldn’t get close enough, her striped, pinky-length eyelashes batting incessantly. She sauntered next to them and plucked something from the top of Felix’s head, then again from their shirt, discarding whatever it was by dropping it to the floor, cleaning them up, but then Regan couldn't see anything. She brushed Felix off one final time, then patted their back to usher them off the stool. They were ready.

Felix was understandably distracted, but Regan needed them. She banged against the side with her fists. Felix wouldn’t hear her – she was certain of that – but her message should have been obvious: get me out.

In front of them, the curtains opened.

------

There were people all around them, and it was a little overwhelming. As was the brushing of invisible paintbrushes over their skin, and the turtleneck shop employee who kept touching their hair. Felix felt sweaty all over, anxious and uncertain. They craned their neck to find Regan still standing in place, palm resting against nothing and mouth open in a silent scream. Were they deaf now? Had they lost their hearing? Subtly, they allowed their inner ear to shift to that of the jaguar, borrowing his sharp ears in an attempt to better listen to what was going on around them. But it was still silent. Everything was silent. The people painting them, Regan, the room around them. There wasn’t even any ambient noise. Didn’t buildings have air conditioners? Why couldn’t he hear anyone’s heartbeat besides his own? (Possibly because Felix’s heart was pounding in their ears, anxiety overtaking them.) 

Someone grabbed them by the elbow and guided them off the stool, trying to pull them towards — was that a stage? Felix’s panic only grew at that, the anxiety at the idea of being made to perform making the panic settle in all the deeper. They felt the jaguar spirit within them stir, felt him rumble in their chest. They heard the quiet yowl that escaped their own lips, and that was good, wasn’t it? That meant they weren’t deaf.

But they might have… a slightly bigger problem.

So panicked by the prospect of a performance they hadn’t prepared for, Felix had dropped the concentration that was keeping the shifting of their ears subtle and unnoticeable. The jaguar’s ears stuck out from beneath Felix’s hair now, and their arm snapped and reformed as the shift tried to take control. Spotted fur exposed itself from beneath their sleeve, and the hand holding their arm dropped it like it was burning. The employee who had been paying the most attention to them opened her mouth in a wide o shape, pointing desperately to the stripes on her shirt and then gesturing to the spots on Felix’s arm before motioning as if she was vomiting on the stage.

Freed from the grip of the turtleneck shop employees, Felix stumbled back. Their back came into contact with something hard, and they turned to find Regan right behind them. Had they run into her? Why was she pointy? She didn’t look particularly pointy. “I think we should go!” They said, bringing a hand up to hide their mouth. They could feel the jaguar’s teeth trying to push in place of their own, and they weren’t sure how to explain that. (As if they knew how to explain the ears, or the furry arm.) Reaching out, they tried to grab Regan by the arm to pull her out… only to find themself blocked by something hard. They tried again, but the barrier remained in place. Attempting a different angle yielded a similar result.

What kind of turtleneck shop was this?

------

Regan pressed her hands flat against the cold surfaces of whatever invisible trap she was in, moving them slowly, searching for any kind of projection or something she could latch onto and pull, and the mimes on the other side – the audience – clapped silently at their entertainment. Some rose from their chairs. Some wept, silently blowing their noses into long black and white handkerchiefs. Others watched in awe. A couple bit their nails, eying Regan like she was a restless tiger pacing in a cage. Nothing. She couldn’t feel anything at all to grab. No obvious way to freedom. Her lungs spasmed, preparing another scream, but what difference would it make? Felix. She needed Felix to figure it out from the other side. Maybe they would see something she didn’t (obviously, the container she was in was doing some very novel things with light, and it probably looked different from the other side. She was not going to panic and not going to start thinking about dying in a mime cube.)

But Felix, her best hope, was stumbling across the stage, and the crowd loved it. Felix said… something. Their mouth moved. No sound emerged. Regan pressed herself up against the side of the invisible cube, trying to get a better look, see if she could beckon Felix over, but something was wrong. Other than the obvious: that they were trapped in front of a live mime audience (dead mimes would have been better). What… what was that on Felix’s arm? Spots? The mimes had been crowding Felix, powdering their face, painting stripes across their skin, but the mimes wouldn’t have done this. They would have done only stripes, not spots (unless… spotted mimes? no). So that left only one possible explanation: it was some kind of an illusion, similar to the container surrounding her on all sides. But it wasn’t just Felix’s arms. Regan squinted, at the strange pointy bits sticking out of their hair, and as they spoke through their fingers, something sharp poked through in a quick flash, before it was obscured again. She stared dumbly at what she was now realizing were ears. Like a cat. And where Felix’s ears should have been, there was nothing. What kind of illusion was this? Surely once she was out of this screadaíl box, everything would right itself.

What would Jade do? Actually, Jade would probably throw herself against the sides. Perhaps a poor role model in this case (only in this case… mostly). What about… who did she know who handled these kinds of weird situations? Emilio? No, he’d be worse than Jade. Kaden? The worst yet. Metzli? They were creative. They would think of some other way. Regan ran her hands along the wall again, but this time, she paused halfway. She thought of Metzli with their paintbrush, the expert flourishes, the way their hand moved. It wasn’t so different from miming, was it? That was her epiphany for the day. Miming and art were the same thing. And as she rotated her wrist, something round and cool pressed against her hand.

Regan opened the door. And as the mimes gaped at her from their seats, Felix’s breathing grew heavy and twisted with panic. They… their ears and arm were still… there must have been another illusion. Like a glamour. She would concern herself with it after. As for right now, the scream vibrating in her chest needed no encouragement. “Felix, cover your strange ears that I am going to examine once we’re through here.”

------

It was strange; the crowd looked as if they were cheering as Felix stumbled, but not a sound rose up from among them. Even their hands, brought together in forceful claps that, by all logic, should have resulted in the sound of thunderous applause, were eerily silent. It was hard not to feel at least a little unnerved, particularly with Regan trapped behind some kind of invisible barrier that Felix couldn’t figure out how to get around. Were they missing something here? Were they just… too stupid to understand what was going on? 

They glanced to Regan again for some kind of reassurance. Regan was smart, they thought. Regan was a doctor, Regan understood things. And Regan looked just as confused as Felix did. They felt a little bad at how much comfort that brought them, but the relief was somewhat palpable all the same. If Regan was confused, too, it meant it wasn’t Felix who was wrong here. It wasn’t Felix who was stupid, it was the situation. This wasn’t the kind of thing they should have been expecting. This was not a normal turtleneck shop. 

Regan reached a hand forward, and Felix spoke from behind their hands again. “I don’t think you can — there’s a —” But, to their surprise, the doctor’s hand landed on something unseen, cupping around it. She turned her hand as if turning a doorknob and, with an unexplainable rush of air that felt like an opening door, stepped forward. Felix blinked in surprise, reaching a hand out uncertainly and blinking again when it landed on her shoulder. They pulled it back immediately, all too aware of the fact that it didn’t look very human at the moment.

“I don’t… uh… What? I mean, sorry.” They reached up to the top of their head, placing their hands over their ears sheepishly. Maybe Regan was trying to protect them from being found out. They hadn’t realized she knew about balam, but she must have, right? Unless… did their ears offend her? Was she asking them to cover up because she found the jaguar’s ears unsightly? The spirit seemed offended at the very thought, haughty as he was. If he were capable of speech, Felix thought he might insist that Regan ought to be jealous of Felix’s ears. In any case, their furry paws pressed the pointed ears against their head, and they offered Regan a tight-lipped smile. “Okay, um, they’re covered. I can buy a hat or something on the way out. They probably sell those here, right?”

------

Felix was looking even stranger, more feline, especially now that Regan was closer, able to see the detail on their weird, fluffy ears, and the weight of that hand – could it be called a hand? – that had briefly been on her shoulder. Long, sharp nails left tiny divots in her sweater where they had innocently tapped. Regan’s eyes lingered over Felix for a moment, taking in each patterned spot on their arms, noting the strange articulation when they spoke, but there would be more time to discuss all of this after they got out of this place. Incidentally, Regan was about 95% sure “this place” was not a turtleneck store. “Right, uh… hats. Maybe. There might be another section.” She was equally as certain they would not have hats.

Regan stared down the mime-filled audience, her lungs burning with explosive intent. They had trapped her in some kind of box. They had… possibly made Felix look like a bizarre cat person. And most offensive of all was the way their grotesque faces stretched themselves into sheer terror whenever Regan came near them. There was a line between being deserving of respect – having her place above the humans acknowledged – and having others cower in her presence. She didn’t like the latter. Not at all. But even so, even risking a sea of fear from them one more time, she needed them gone. They kept interfering with any attempts to browse clothes (where were the clothes?) and Regan was unconvinced that the two of them would ever get out of here if drastic measures weren’t taken. Also, they probably weren’t even real. Something about this… there had been a reason her mind had turned to Jade, Emilio, and Kaden, right? This was one of those things. 

Felix’s ears were covered and Regan was ready to take a chance and see what happened to these mimes when they encountered some sound. The scream was not impressive. Regan didn’t need it to be, especially in case – no, she was sure there was something wrong with these mimes. It still shattered the seemingly impenetrable silence that had filled this place since they had arrived, bouncing off striped walls and causing striped lightbulbs to crack and plummet to the floor around them. Immediately, the mimes… changed. They became something amorphous, features melting and dribbling together and silhouette losing all shape and form. A couple of them made last second futile attempts to mime something – running away, crying – but their skin and illusion of humanity melted away before they could finish. Even when Regan stopped screaming, it continued, and where that had previously been all those mimes, there was only a massive mat of bubbling black ooze, offshoots and tendrils wiggling around like silent snakes. Her eyes narrowed at the substance. It was no mystery what it was. She had seen it before, in the sewers, the alley, the “rats”. Where it came from was a much better question. But – Regan turned to Felix. “Okay, you can uncover your ears now. That was, um, weird… right? I guess it was goo the whole time. It’s always goo in this town.” 

Except Felix was not there.

------

Regan was looking at them, and that was probably bad. They looked more jaguar than human at this point, could feel the spirit stirring and demanding his place in the front of their shared body now that more and more of his features were bubbling to the surface. Humanity was difficult to hold on to the more Felix shifted and, right now, it was increasingly slippery. But Felix didn’t want to shift here. They didn’t want to hurt Regan. They didn’t even particularly want to hurt the employees of the turtleneck shop, even if they had tried to paint them into being a mime. Mostly, they just wanted to leave. “I bet there is!” They said, still muffled as they tried to hide the jaguar’s teeth in their mouth. “I bet behind that other curtain, there’s a whole section of — of turtlenecks and hats. And — And maybe other things! Jackets! I bet there’s so many jackets!”

But they’d never get to the second curtain, would they? Those same employees who’d been so eager to lead them through the first curtain were cowering now. It must have been Felix’s fault, right? They were up here, on this weird raised turtleneckless turtleneck display platform, looking like half an animal and scaring a group of perfectly nice shop employees. Regan stepped forward, and Felix wondered what she was planning. Would she announce their departure? Reassure the employees somehow? Demand to be taken to the turtlenecks or the hats? Ask to speak to someone in charge? Possibilities circled through Felix’s head, questions about her intentions clear and calculated.

None of their expectations involved screaming, though.

Definitely not screaming like this. Even with their hands over their ears, it was loud and jarring and people in the audience were melting and it was all a little… much. Felix couldn’t even really blame the jaguar for the way they felt their bones snapping and reforming or the realization that their thin grasp on their human form was definitely gone now. In the chaos, a shift was expected. Inevitable, really. Luckily, the jaguar had little interest in attacking the source of the sound. Instead, his plan involved putting distance between himself and the screaming. The big cat leaped off the stage, skillfully avoiding the black goo that had once made up the employees of the turtleneck shop as he darted towards the front of the store.

------

Somehow, the ooze from the exploded mimes was slick like oil but also clinging to the bottom of her boots, threatening to pull her somewhere. Regan shivered, thinking again of tar pits, and with a heave, freed her leg, just as something big and powerful bounded right over her head and galloped toward the… entrance? Somewhere. She wasn’t clear how they got here. Was it a remaining mime, one that leaped around on all-fours (unfortunately, not a first-time sighting)? She needed to find Felix. Even though the sound had returned to this space, there was still a strange silence looming. It was possible the mimes would be back. They seemed to fear her, and this surviving four-legged one had heard what she was capable of – perhaps she could question it. 

Regan sloshed across some more of the goop and pushed through the curtain she saw the creature ram past. The fabric was still swaying from the thing’s movement. “Felix? Did you see that thing? Oh, you probably – are you looking for jackets?” She had her doubts about this place being a store. A lot of doubts. In fact, she would sooner believe in the healing powers of turmeric and lavender. “Felix?” She wandered through the huge room with the catwalk, hauntingly empty now, and just as quiet, save for the sound of each of her footfalls. The mimes had perished before they could turn the club lights off, so black and white still strobed across the room, making it hard to discern any details or see what might have been cowering in each corner. Like whether Felix might be hiding somewhere in here. Maybe that was it, they were hiding? Regan disliked cowardice, but these days, her disdain was often followed by a pang of remorse for holding someone to the standards she held herself to. (She was a banshee. They were not. It was simple.)

“Where are you? If you’re hurt, I can help. I’m a…” There it was, the door they’d come from. Back into the relatively normal front of the store. And why was she still thinking of this place as a store? It was a strip club for mimes. Wasn’t that obvious by now? Regan cussed under her breath as she navigated back to the front of the not-store. You could say what you want about Saol Eile, the banshees would not put up with any of this mimery, she thought. “I have places to be, things to, uh, pack. Letters to write. Are you in here…?” Something was. And it had glowing amber eyes; huge, white teeth; and a striking yellow and black spotted coat. The animal, the cat, moved with power and grace. And as Regan’s lungs pulled in a huge breath, readying their defenses, she came to the conclusion that this was definitely not a mime.

------

The jaguar had little interest in confronting the screaming woman. He’d seen what she was capable of from just beneath the surface of Felix’s consciousness, had watched her turn humanoid beings (they smelled strange, smelled off) into little more than ooze on the floor of the building he never would have allowed them to enter had he been the one calling the shots at the time. (Never mind the fact that the jaguar wouldn’t take them into any building if given a choice, of course.)

His best option, he figured, was to lay low until the screaming woman departed. Humans ran from the scenes of their crimes, did they not? They feared punishment, feared retribution. The screaming woman would surely be no different, would wish to distance herself from what she had done. The jaguar could attempt to find the exit after she had gone; he was safer prowling behind shelves until then. Not hiding; the jaguar had no interest in that. Just… avoiding. He had no desire to attack a woman who could tear organic matter apart with a scream. Not without knowing more, at least. The jaguar remembered the last human he’d wrapped his teeth around. He could still taste the foulness of her glittery blood on his tongue. It was not a thing he wished to repeat. 

But the screaming woman wasn’t leaving. She was circling the store, she was calling out for Felix. Why? To eliminate witnesses to her crime? The jaguar let out a low sound of displeasure, wishing she would leave. But instead, she entered the front of the building where the jaguar prowled, still calling out for his human counterpart. She approached, and the jaguar let out a low growl, flashing his teeth at her. His eyes darted around the building, landing at last on a door that seemed to lead to the outside. But the jaguar lacked Felix’s thumbs; he wouldn’t be able to open it on his own. And if he let Felix have control again, would they leave? Or would they continue to remain in the presence of a clear threat to maintain an aura of politeness? It was too big a risk.

Letting out a much louder yowl, the jaguar swiped a paw through the air between himself and the screaming woman, the threat clear. Keeping a wide distance between them, he padded over to the door and pawed at it with another yowl. Perhaps if he used his claws, he could remove it from its hinges. But could he do it before the woman chose to scream again? It seemed a risk. 

Turning his head again, the jaguar’s gaze landed on the large display window, painted over with black and white stripes but still glass. Still possible to break. The idea that formed in the beast’s head was an obvious one; it was not, perhaps, a good one.

------

The animal slunk around, panting, ears pinned back, the picture of a stressed, cornered thing that held enough pride to deserve better. Saliva glistened on its long teeth. Regan’s mouth dropped open and the leading edge of a mounting screech nearly came pouring out. Getting a better look at the beast did nothing to explain the situation she’d found herself in. Was it a leopard? A jaguar? It didn’t matter; they both had teeth and claws. Regan peeled back, her breath caught in her throat. She told her racing heart that fear was only in the mind, and that she was above it. How many cats had she reduced to nothing but bone shards and clumps of viscera? This was no different (but… Lullaby. And Melody.). It had an expression she recognized, even on the face of an animal: it was convinced of its invulnerability, a true apex predator.

This cat, whatever species it was, had nothing in common with Jade’s babies – uh, cats – other than its chattiness. But where Lullaby meowed and purred (away, from across the room), this animal bared its lips back, revealing wicked fangs, and roared.

The paw came fast and Regan stumbled back, missing the claws. She couldn’t tell by what margin. Every instinct tried to yank her away; whatever self-preservation remained after her years of training was telling her to run. Her grandmother would be appalled (she scribbled a quick mental note to not mention this). No, Regan would blow the creature up on the spot and harvest the fragments that remained, the only indication that there had been something once alive in front of her. As the leopard yowled again, Regan’s lungs pushed themselves to issue one of their own. But… the animal didn’t seem interested in her, really. It clawed at the painted black door this time, the furrows from its claws revealing the light wood under the paint. Chips sprayed practically across the room. Regan sprang sideways, trying to create more distance, tying a rope around her lungs to rein them in.

Because… because Jade would hate it if she killed a cat. She wasn’t going to make Jade unhappy when they had less than a week left together. And it probably belonged to the zoo, right? Ó, lobhadh mór, she was soft, too soft. Saol Eile was going to sink its teeth into her if this leopard did not. 

As the animal’s gaze ricocheted between the door and an offensively-intact window, Regan had a suspicion. (Not about Felix. She had no idea where they went. Probably home. She couldn’t blame them. She also would have gone home if she were painted up like a mime.) It was not nearly black and white enough to be something that belonged here. Did it want out, too? Regan cleared her throat, swallowing back the last of the urge to scream, and tried to keep her voice low. “I’m not good at talking to cats… I don’t think I am. Mostly, they talk to me. Meowing. Well, actually, it’s only one cat who does that. The other only looks at me on occasion, like I should be honored to see his eyes. Um, are you gay? A gay, uh… leopard? My gir– I know a gay cat.” The animal seemed calm enough. It was probably just confused. As she talked, she toed cautiously toward the door. Her lungs did not like this. They flared again at the danger, but she held her breath, and turned the knob on the door. It was actually just one of those knobs you press downward on. The cat could have done it. Cats weren’t very smart. “Is this… what you were trying to do?” 

The leopard practically jumped over her head. It darted from the store (club?) as quickly as Lullaby shot out from under Jade’s sofa. That was still a problem, but not her problem – Kaden’s. Finally, the breath hissed out from her lungs and that big, black window shattered. Maybe that would have been easier after all, but Regan was not eager to subject another animal to the sound of her scream. Not until she had to again. She stepped over the glass, giving the room a final, curious glance. No turtlenecks at all. Not even a thread. Felix led them astray. She pulled out her Blackberry, thumbing carefully over the cracked screen, and located Yelp. (They did not have Yell in Wicked’s Rest.)  She found The Stripe Club’s page. True to what Felix said, there were many reviews, but none of them contained any text. 

She was going to leave the first.

1 out of 5 scars. No turtlenecks. Even fewer jackets. Would be 2 for the decor, but I have subtracted 1 due to the leopard infestation and optical illusions. Possibly a strip club for mimes. Do not purchase clothes here. What are these stars for? I am allotting only 1 of those as well.

[tmwcs]

TOY - CHAPTER TWO

Warnings: Fluff, nothing major in this one.

The morning started the day off tranquil and refreshed from the dewy presence of the rain.

You open the boutique and settles in as you push the curtains open, allowing for the morning rays to emerge and illuminate your creative palace.

Unsure and refraining from telling your mother of the likely encounter you had with an Adam, a male entity you had been warned to stray from, you felt it unnecessary to cause any commotions about the matter, since Kei had hardly displayed any signs or red flags that reflected danger. You were never explained as to why Sirens were required to stay away from the clan of Adam's, perhaps that lack of knowledge is what caused you to take the matter lightly. Still, you opted to remain calm and avoid confrontation, perhaps in due time, you will learn more of your family's ancestry as well as the Adam clan and gain closure and truth on the matter, which will allow you to ascertain the best course of action. In the meantime, things should be fine so long as he remains friendly.

Submerging yourself in the back room, where you could express your deepest and darkest creativity, you stencil in the contrasts and shadows of your upcoming creation, a piece that displays the tale of two lovers with darkness in their own hearts. Among the blackened canvas that you prepped, your hand effortlessly strokes the brush against the grain and drafts your two children, symbolizing their love story.

The bell rang indicating a customer had entered, breaking from your strokes, you place the brush aside and gets up to greet whoever it was that had just walked in.

"Hello welco-" you pause with a wide stare.

"Its him..."

Walking in, he gently turns halfway to shut the door, before turning his gaze back over towards you and setting his sights with a suave smirk on his face.

"Hey, did you just open up?"

"Y-yeah. What are you doing here?"

"Just wanted to stop by and bring this over to you."

Extending a hand, he hands you a cup. You could tell by the warmth of it that the contents in it was fresh, and it smelled quite pleasant.

"Tea?" you inquired with a slightly raised brow.

"Heh...yeah, I noticed on your little console table in the backroom you had a variety of teas. Figured you could use a change of flavor, it's from the cafe down the road. You ever been?"

"No, I haven't.....but thank you. I'm sure I'll like it." you remained polite yet brusque with your interaction, hoping that he would eventually get bored and be on his way. You didn't know why he was so adamant in being nice to you and coming by the boutique. Up until two weeks ago when he came in as a genuine customer and bought one of the paintings, you had never seen him. Now, it was as if you could barely do what you could to keep him away.

"So what do you have to do today?" He tilts his head as he gives a half smirk, crossing his arms gently.

You shake your head and drift your sights away, avoiding eye contact. "Nothing, just going to paint and maybe draft up a few chapters but that's it. Don't you have places to be or a schedule of your own?" you ask, hoping that he would take the hint.

"Nah." he smirks out as he looks around in the store, setting his gaze on the top shelves that had a myriad of boxes and items that were displayed in an unorganized manner. Upon seeing the display, he takes off his jacket and starts to roll up his sleeves.

"Wh-what are you-" you started but was cut off as he gently interjects.

"Going to fix that for you."

"The boxes?" you look up for a second before looking back over to him. "You don't have to, those are more than likely going to be all thrown out anyhow."

"No worries, i'll just clean it up for you. Besides..." as he finishes rolling his last sleeve, he shakes his head, causing the front pieces of his hair to sway away from his eyes as he takes a couple of steps forward, in your direction. Slightly biting his lip as he scoffs a smirk, he leans in and nearly whispers in a slightly teasing manner. "its a bit out of your reach isnt it?..."

You displayed a look of confusion for a moment before realizing that he was hinting at your height, which he noted the obvious fact of how short you were. Considering he was of a towering stature, you were by no means anywhere near average in regards to how tall you were.

"....I get it...I'm short." you slightly rolled your eyes as you sipped out of the cup.

Chuckling, he reassures you that he meant no disrespect of the matter. "I'm just saying....I got what you lack, and I can help you."

"Yeah but..." you continued. "Between me and my parents, we got it. You really dont need to be wasting your time here." you looked down at your cup as you spoke out.

"What if i want to be here?"

"I wish you wouldn't. I have work to do and you're not helping, you're distracting my focus and it's irritating." you spoke truthfully, trying to be a bit more forceful in your displeasure of having him intruding on your tasks. Yet, the moment you spoke out your last word, he seemed to take it.....differently than you had hoped.

"Oh yeah?"

Looking up, you saw something within his eye...it was a glimmer of some type of emotion you couldn't make out, but judging by the expanding grin on his handsome face, and the way he walked closer in towards you, causing you to take steps back, he closes you in against the floor to ceiling shelving units.

"What are you doing?" you steadily ask as you felt your back make contact with the shelves behind.

"Am I....distracting you?" He teases out as he licks his top row of pearly white teeth.

"Don't be dumb. I didn't mean it like that." you issued a glare, slightly annoyed by his lack of judgement, and the fact that he was taking an opportunity to try and flirt with you.

"I'm not....far from it actually." he reaches over and lays his forearm against the shelf above your head, allowing for him to cradle you in against his massive frame.

Leaning in, he issues a slight bend at the neck. "So....how did you mean it?" he inquires, the smirk disappearing as it transitions into a stern and serious tone of countenance.

Regaining your composure, you subtly clear your throat and began elaborating. "Look, you're a nice guy and all but I'm not really one to enjoy company...I like working and being alone."

"Oh?....Away from it all?" he raises a brow as he propels you to keep talking.

"Yeah, exactly."

Chuckling, he gave a look of amusement which had you rolling your eyes once more. It seemed that the man was either too dense, delusional, or perhaps he just didn't care, it was obvious that he was fond of you.

As you rolled your eyes, you noted an added feature that you didn't remember seeing before. Nudging your head towards it, changing the topic, you inquired about it.

"That's new...." you remarked. "Don't remember seeing that before."

Turning his gaze over to what you were inquiring of, he smirks as he takes a step or two away, allowing your room to breathe in comfort of not feeling trapped in.

"Huh...yeah...just kind of liked it. If I like something enough, I get it." He remarked as he moved over and started to unload the boxes from high up.

"Hmm...a yakuza in the making." you remarked cunningly, sipping from the cup once more as you rolled your eyes off to the side.

"What do you know about yakuza's?" he chuckles out.

"I know nothing about yakuza's but what i do know is that if you break anything, i'm going to be very angry. I'm going to my room." you irked out as you started to walk off.

"Does that mean you're willing to accept my help?" he teases out as he watches you walk away.

"Not necessarily, but it doesn't look like I have a choice." you displayed an annoyed expression, up until you felt a pair of hands grab you from behind so suddenly.

Pulling you back while twirling your form to face him, he looks at you with a side smirk. "Hold still for a second."

You glared at the sudden audacity of his mannerism. "What the Hell do you-"

"Shhh...." he shushes out.

Leaning inwards, his face was too close for your liking, yet you felt your heart stop beating the moment you felt his breath grazing your face as he continues to close in the distance. The grip around your waist tightens, tugging you closer up against his chest and groin. A slight whimper emerges from your lips, and it did not aid your resolve as he smirked a satisfying chuckle upon hearing it.

Reaching up, he places two of his fingers and delicately maneuvers them on your hair atop your head. The sensation was faint and subtle, it felt as if he was picking something off.

"Got it...." holding up a small ladybug, he exhibits the thing on the very tip of his finger, holding it up in front of your eyes.

"You could have just told me I would have gotten it myself. I don't like to be touched." you irked out.

"Yeah?.....what else don't you like? I'm curious.....tell me..."

"Could you find some other poor woman to flirt with, I'm not into that. I've got stuff I have to do, so please go be creepy with somebody else."

Turning away, you marched back into your creative space, shutting the door and locking it, leaving him out in the store front. You rested your back against the door and slid down to seat yourself on the floor, trying to steady your breaths. You weren't lying, you didn't appreciate his aptitude in trying to pursue you, yet, the man was fiercely handsome, and the way he carried himself was somewhat attractive, yet you were scared by that deep stare he always issued towards you.

................

"Yuan, you have mail."

"Hmm?"

Taking the thick envelope from our mother's hand, you didn't bother looking over the front before opening it.

To your surprise and enjoyment, you received an acceptance package from the art school you had applied to six months ago, taking place in a neighboring country that would afford you wondrous opportunities and networking applications.

"Mom! I got accepted!"

Your mother's eyes grew wide with shock and joy as you both jumped up and celebrated with hugs and tears.

"Call your dad up here, we have to tell him."

Migrating to the main living space, you and your mother spread the joyful news.

"Accepted? Really? Yuan, I am so proud of you!" your father issued upon receiving you with a warm and celebratory embrace.

Throughout the night, you and your parents dined and remained joyful, feasting all in your honor as you remained smiling, constantly glancing at the acceptance letter.

Despite you not leaving for another two months, you were too excited to not begin sorting and packing your belongings. Your mother had insisted you go strictly off the packing list, figuring you were packing way more than you needed to, yet you couldn't shake off the fact that the school was a prestigious institution, it was better for you to be overly prepared than to undersell yourself.

Back at the shop, you began cleaning out the backroom and clearing out all of your equipment that you think you might need to bring along. Entirely focused on the future aspects of your career, you had been so engrossed at the images of expanding our liberty that you didn't even hear the bell ringing from someone entering.

"Hey there, what are you doing?" his voice was low and deep, despite that handsome grin remaining on his face.

"Oh...hey." caught off guard, you were so focused and happy with your joyous occasion that you had completely forgotten about Kei, considering the man had been visiting your family's shop and helping you with the stocking and organizing the shelves.

"I'm just cleaning out this room, I got accepted to a major art school that I applied to months ago." you explained.

"Oh? An art school huh? Where at?"

Once you explained it was overseas in a country nearby, he pouted his lips softly. "Oh you're going to be so far away."

Chuckling, you teasingly remarked back as you grabbed your paint brushes off the shelves. "I'm sure you'll find someone else to bother."

"Yeah but..." walking closer towards you, he leans in and whispers from behind. "I like bothering you more."

That shuttering jolt of shock crept up once more when you felt his breath. It was so strange to feel physical touch after years of not experiencing it. Reflecting back the first time you noticed it when Kei had shielded you away from the falling boxes, you wondered if you should have told your mother about him, still opting to review the the aftermath of everything first. To your pleasant surprise, nothing ever happened, nor did you feel any animosity from Kei. Maybe he wasn't an Adam, or maybe he was but....could the dilution of the bloodline decrease the traits that your mother had yet to explain what it was, yet remained so fearful to warn you of it?

"Well, sorry. I'm leaving in six weeks so I guess that means you have only till then to bug me."

Smirking he bites his lower lip before lookin back at you. "Yeah.....maybe." His voice went even lower. "Happy for you though." he finishes. In which you accepted graciously and thanked him.

Considering that Kei had made it obvious of his fondness for you, he was surprisingly supportive and even helped you pack up your belongings at the shop. He even offered to give you a ride to the airport the day you fly out but you politely declined, explaining that your parents would take you so you could say goodbye to them one last time before leaving.

"Well, I'm sure we'll cross paths again." He remarks as he tilts his head back and runs his fingers through his hair, pushing it all back and away from his face before recrossing his arms.

"Oh? And what makes you think that." You antagonized by inquiring with a facetious tone, while taping a box shut.

"I just have this feeling that we will. It's fate."

You scoffed at his audacious remark. "Well, we'll see I guess, i wouldn't hold my breath on it though. I'll be at school for the next four years, and I don't really plan on coming back. I want to start a new life when I graduate."

He smirks out a chuckle. "I kind of figured. Can I at least ask for one favor before you leave?"

"What is it?"

"Will you let me take you out to dinner just one time? I mean....I feel like you owe me anyhow." he winks out as he chuckles out his last words.

"Excuse me? 'owe you?' how so?"

"From when I saved that pretty head of yours from all those boxes."

While you thought his reasoning was rather brazen, he did make a point. He absolutely did save you from a world of hurt, and despite your mothers un-ruling and yet, uncertain warning, Kei really was just a friendly and helpful young man. You may have been annoyed with his constant presence at the shop, yet it was thanks to him that you got to appreciate this joyful feeling.

"Okay...just one."

"Great."

"When and where?" You inquired.

"Lets do this Friday night, I'll cook."

"You cook?"

"I sure do."

"Well....okay.....I'm assuming it's at your place?"

"Mmhmm..."

You're not entirely sure if it was the correct decision, still, you agreed. Perhaps you were just too excited for being accepted, either way, you felt it harmless to go over and have dinner with him on Friday night.

"Great.....I can't wait." he smirks once more, watching as your back faces him while you taped up the remaining boxes.

…………..

".......Cant wait......."

[doyouknowthisdisabledcharacter]

I'm so excited a discussion about Zenos is happening! I've submitted Y'shtola and I think Arendvald was maybe me too, been meaning to type out one for Thancred, Raubahn, and possibly a couple others, too. I love FFXIV so much, is major special interest.

[SPOILERS AHEAD FOR ANYONE NOT DONE WITH FFXIV MSQ AND INTENDING TO PLAY IT] So, to add some context to Zenos! He's a villain that stands out from the rest, and the player character (WoL from hereon) is the only person he truly wants to fight. He is canonically extremely gifted, and it's both as something that makes him super deadly and one of a few factors playing into how he has absolutely no pleasure from anything in life. Except fighting people that really do pose a challenge to him, which is like... the WoL. That's the end of that list. He's the son of a ruler in an authoritorian fascist empire (Garleans), with highly rigid and cold regimes and practices and extremely large differences in power across their vast power hierarchy.

He is cold, indifferent, ruthless, and extremely dangerous. But he doesn't kill aimlessly either, it gives him no joy, and he doesn't wish to spent time on unworthy targets that wouldn't challenge him in the slightest. He canonically is miserable in life, always been an outsider, always felt alien to his society. He finds everything boring, and he despises boring. He's got lines of dialogue saying nothing makes him feel anything at all, except when he's almost killed in battle by the WoL. So he keeps seeking out the WoL, teasing and egging on to try and get that rush again.

Canon factors that cause this: - Childhood without parental attachments, because his mother died and his father was emotionally, socially, and physically distant - Forced to train and behave as an adult from an unreasonably young age, in a highly formal and structured environment without room for being a child - His giftedness, described in ways similar to real life gifted child experiences and complications - Chronic boredom and lack of emotion, described in ways similar to understimulation and flat affect - Lack of any attachments or interest in social relations of any kind, described in ways similar to antisocial personality characteristics, where he both cannot socially connect and doesn't care

I'm not sure if canon directly talks about his apparent lack of empathy using words or phrases that align with the concept of empathy, but several other characters express disgust and anger at how he shows no empathy or remorse. Aka it is heavily implied he does not have emotional empathy, and does not care about the cognitive empathy he does have. He says in different ways at many points in time that he doesn't enjoy this existence, he doesn't wish for this. He even had a nearly successful suicide attempt. He is functionally isolated and totally excluded from society, and in practice can't or won't or both do anything other than look for the next way to try and feel something.

The game generally doesn't use terms for health and illness as we know them, but if I were to try and translate the terms and phrasings and tellings they do use about Zenos, I'd no doubt say he has a severe attachment disorder which with his giftedness creates a very skilled but very dysfunctional person. His giftedness for both intellect and learning and combat is a blessing and a curse. Then, if we're going more into harder to translate from in-world lingo to our-world lingo territory, he does have a variety of traits that align with antisocial personality disorder as well as dysthymia.

Overall he is a villain that portrays a lot of contrasts and conflicts in function talked about regarding 2e / twice exceptional people and who is both an absolutely ruthless one man army monster and also just alone, miserable, empty, and without any pleasure from anything in life, where a lot of it is likely caused by the circumstances of his childhood.

Thank y’all for your input + the people in the comments of the other post. He will be included, his poll will run at some point.

[scorpiongrassfield]

You Don't Mind Getting to Know Theo

Start | Prev

“Oh. That’s. Very sweet of you to say,” Theo says. 

He opens his mouth to say something else, but is interrupted by the sound of a door slamming somewhere else in the house. 

“Ah. That was probably Concrete,” he explains. 

You wait for him to elaborate. 

“He has a habit of pushing doors closed and then being really mad that he’s locked in whichever room he locked himself in. Come on, let’s go get him.” 

He leads you over to the stairs. 

You feel a little uneasy as you approach them, but they lack any sort of runner rug, and they don’t seem particularly hungry, so you follow Theo up them anyway. You can hear Concrete meowing as you walk. 

“So. This is the second floor,” Theo says, gesturing around. 

“And this,” he says as points to a door, “is sort of a multipurpose room.” 

He opens it just a crack, as the door gently bumps into something on the other side. 

“Concrete. If you want me to open the door you’re going to need to move,” he says gently. 

Concrete does not move. It continues meowing. 

Theo sighs but smiles fondly. 

He scans the hallway, and upon spotting a little mouse cat toy, he picks it up. 

“Concrete! Go get the mousey!,” he says, and then tosses the mouse through the crack in the door. 

There’s the sound of quick little footsteps running away from the door. 

“There we go!” Theo says and opens the door. 

This room is partially taken up by a rather expansive… cat jungle gym? There’s towers and platforms and shelves with the occasional cat toy stuck to it. 

A lot of the toys seem to be knitted or otherwise hand-made. 

“Did you knit those yourself?” you ask, nodding to them. 

“Oh, it’s actually crochet. But yes. I made those and most of the whole thing myself. I like making stuff and it keeps Concrete from getting bored,” he says, rubbing at the back of his neck. He seems to do that when he’s feeling shy or nervous. 

“That’s pretty impressive,” you say. It looks like it took a lot of work. 

“Oh, um. Thank you,” he says. Then he turns to the other side of the room to change the subject. 

There’s a computer desk with a desktop and drawing tablet in one corner. In the other there’s a tv and what looks to be a few different gaming consoles, a shelf of games,  and some beanbags.  

“This is where I spend most of my time. Working at the computer. Or gaming.” 

“Cool.” 

“Do you like video games at all?” 

You pause and consider it. 

“I… Don’t remember.” 

“Oh.” 

There’s another pause. 

“Do you… Want to try playing some? I’ve got a pretty wide variety. And I don’t have anything super pressing that I need to do today,” Theo rambles. 

You would like to. But. 

“I’m not sure when Pat’s expecting me back. I’m supposed to pick up a pizza for us,” you explain. 

Thinking about it, though. You really don’t want to. Talking to strangers is scary, especially without Pat there to smooth things over if something happens. 

“I could probably try ordering one and having it delivered. That’s technically still getting a pizza to Pat like they asked, right?” you reason out loud. 

Theo shrugs. “It’s up to you.” 

You nod. 

You look up the nearest pizza place to the motel and find the number to call. 

“Marty’s Pizza, what can I get for you?” comes the voice from the other side. 

You open your mouth to order, but your voice just won’t come out. 

You try again. Nothing. Your heart is beating a little too fast. 

“Hello?” the person calls. 

You, against your better judgment, are too scared to answer. 

“I’m sorry, I can’t hear you. Can you try calling back?” the person says. 

You don’t say anything. 

They hang up. 

You just stand there, still holding the phone. What the hell was that? Why are you scared of talking on the phone? 

“Oh dear. Are you alright?” Theo asks. 

You don’t know. 

“Ah. I’ve been there. Here. Why don’t we come sit down for a bit over here?” he coaxes. 

He gently takes your hand and guides you over to the bean bags. You sit down heavily. 

“I didn’t remember that,” you say. 

It makes you kind of mad. Not being able to remember why you’re scared of things. 

“That sounds frustrating,” Theo agrees. “I… I don’t remember why I’m scared of the woods around my house. It’s. Really not very pleasant,” Theo commiserates. 

There’s something there that you’d normally like to press on. But not right now. 

Concrete has taken up residence on the other bean bag.

“Would you like a distraction? I’m sure Pat will understand if you need to calm down before starting the drive back?” Theo says, gesturing to the games. 

You think you would like a distraction. 

“Sure,” you agree.

Next

[netmomplus]

Touhou Ship Week 2023 Day 3: Creativity

Another boring day at the temple, Shou Toramaru thought to herself. She had just finished reading that book from the Outside World that Mamizou had gifted her and was largely out of things to do. So what was a youkai to do other than to loiter around the Myouren Temple grounds and perhaps look to see if anyone was being a worse Buddhist than she was. Because if there was one thing she was good at, it was reprimanding people.

“Hmm. Don’t see anything…”

The grounds were remarkably quiet this early in the morning. Kyouko Kasodani was off cleaning her section of the yard as usual; Shou couldn’t help but admire her work ethic, as much as Byakuren seemed dedicated to eliminating whatever leisure time she had. Besides her, she only saw a handful of monks and monks-to-be training outside, nothing too surprising given that the sun had barely risen. Yup, seemed today was going to be a perfectly quiet, ordinary day.

And then she heard a squeak.

“Huh?”

Shou turned and looked around for the source of the squeak, but to no avail. It wasn’t to her left, it wasn’t to her right, and if it were at her feet she were sure she could feel it. Which probably meant she was going to have to go on a little journey to figure this out.

Shou began to wander the grounds, specifically looking for where the squeaking would be loudest. Wandering out to the gate, she caught absolutely nothing, and so she wandered back around to the building: There we go, there’s the squeaking again. That confirms that whatever she heard was coming from inside. Taking this knowledge and running with it, Shou walked into a side door, where she would begin walking through the halls in an attempt to locate the source.

Eventually she would come across a door to her right. Oh, the squeaking was real loud coming from there, the chances of her turning, entering, and seeing some giant mass of rats were very suddenly not zero. Only one way to find out though, so Shou soon turned and poked her head into the room next to her.

“Hello?”

Ah, so there was the reason the squeaking was so loud. It wasn’t a mere mouse or rat, but a group of several. They were all scurrying around the room, a few either carrying dust clothes or sliding around on them. And who else would be among them but the giant rat… err, mouse… that makes all of the rules? Nazrin, a youkai like Shou, was currently using her dowsing rods for a variety of purposes: The one in her right hand had a dust cloth attached and was cleaning a high shelf that even the massive Shou had a bit of trouble reaching, while the one in her left hand had some cheese on the end and was leading some mice along a lower shelf.

“Nazrin?”

The sound of Shou’s voice visibly caught the mouse youkai’s attention. Nazrin swiveled around to face her tiger partner and looked up for eye contact; truth be told, the height gap between them was pretty much entirely a result of Shou herself being incredibly tall, maybe around two meters tall.

“Yeah, love?”

“What are you doing?”

“Oh, I’m just cleaning. I know you get annoyed when I don’t pitch in to help take care of the shrine whenever I stay over, so I thought I’d have a little fun with it.”

“Oh, you’re being charitable?” Shou cracked the smallest of smiles at that. “Thanks Nazrin, I appreciate it. Mind explaining how you’re doing it then? This all seems pretty complicated, and lady Hijiri’s already gotten on my case about drinking too much.”

“It’s quite simple, dear Shou!” Nazrin walked forward and held her hands out to her sides, briefly twirling. “As you can see, these kind mice are manipulating their dust cloths, quite handily in fact. Because there’s so many clothes and so many mice, even if they retread ground they’re not about to drag any dirt around because they can just pick it back up! And for those who lack motivation… behold!”

Nazrin held up the cheese-ended dowsing rod, waving it in front of Shou’s face. The tiger could very clearly tell she was just doing it for dramatics, but hey, who didn’t like a little dramatics once in a while?

“Food rewards! You and I both know that mice aren’t particularly motivated by the possibility of being reborn in a better standing in the next life, they just wanna live a long life now, so I’m motivating them with food. Not even just this cheese either, I have a whole stash lined up.”

“A stash, huh? That’s quite interesting.” Shou fidgeted with her sleeves as she though of what to say next. “So, uh… would you mind telling me where you got that food?”

“Oh, wouldn’t you like to know? I, uh… I have my methods. Which I’m not sharing, so there.”

“...I see.” Shou could take a wild guess as to what Nazrin meant by that; as much as she liked her, she knew Nazrin wasn’t exactly a morally upstanding character. “And, uh, besides that high shelf, have you done any of the cleaning yourself?”

“Mm? Myself? Why would I need to worry about that? They’ve got a hang of it, don’t you think? And it’s not like I’m not doing anything Shou, I’m still leading them. There’s nothing you need to worry about love, I’ve got this all under control-”

Nazrin’s sentence was very suddenly interrupted by a crash. The noise causes the mouse to leap back and toward Shou, practically leaning against her to seek some sort of comfort. Sighing, Shou patted her partner on the head and looked to see what broke; as it turned out, it was a single ceramic bowl that had broken into a few pieces. Nothing too unmanageable. All of the rats had already scattered to the other end of the room.

“...so, great Napoleon,” Shou remarked, “how did relying on the mice to do everything work out for you?”

“Eurgh, it was fine until that happened. And who’s Napoleon?”

“Someone in the book Mamizou gave me.” Shou casually avoided mentioning that Napoleon was a military leader whose hubris was his ultimate downfall; truthfully, the height had nothing to do with it, as even the book mentioned that Napoleon wasn’t particularly short.

“Sure, sure. Uh… I’ll… I’ll clean that up-”

“No, no, I’ll get it.”

Shou walked over to the mess and knelt down to pick up the large shards of the bowl. With a groan she stood back up and disposed of the remains of the bowl into a waste bin, then turned back to Nazrin, who was already in the middle of trying to feed the visibly shaken rodents. Sheesh, Shou thought, maybe her little jab was a bit insensitive. With that thought in mind, she walked over to Nazrin and stood next to her.

“Hey, points for creativity,” Shou told the mouse. “It wasn’t practical, but I can only imagine how much effort it took to orchestrate all of that.”

“A fair bit, actually,” Nazrin admitted with a groan as she finished distributing the food, then snatched Shou’s arm. “It’s a lot harder to motivate mice when the food reward isn’t immediate. But, uh, what do you think of the finished results?”

“Hmm? What do I think?” Shou took one quick look around the room. Actually, there was hardly any dust at all, if there even was any. Maybe she shouldn’t have been so quick to judge the mice for the one mix up. “Looks good. Give the mice my regards, but first, let me give you mine.”

Shou leaned down and gave Nazrin a kiss on the cheek; the intimacy was enough to turn Nazrin’s face as red as could be, almost as red as her eyes if you wanted to exaggerate. Shou couldn’t help but admit to herself that seeing her flustered was fun, both because it helped to deflate her ego and also because she just found it cute.

“So how about some breakfast? I hear Ichirin’s cooking.”

“F-fine, fine. Probably beats what I had before getting here.”

With that, Shou helped Nazrin out of the room and off to the temple kitchen, while the other mice dashed out of the room to parts unknown. It was kind of a miracle that Nazrin was able to figure out how to wrangle them all, Shou thought to herself.

She supposed they didn’t call her the Tiny Clever Commander for nothing. Even if she really wasn’t that tiny.