#the single difference was by one point down and honestly it was mostly a little blip of nice life events

[aro-culture-is]

Aro culture is debating for YEARS if trauma made you aro or if you always were. Then you get informed about Avoidant Personality Disorder and now you’re sitting here like.. I’m aro and have a personality disorder?????????????? Because that makes a lot more sense. I do yearn for connection because of the disorder but I do not feel consistent romantic attraction 😳😳 it’s like bearly there at all like an incense that keeps going out.

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[literary-illuminati]

Book Review 68 - Babel by R. F. Kuang

Overview

I came to Babel with extremely little knowledge about the actual contents of the book but a deep sense of all the vibes swirling around its reception – that it was robbed of a Hugo nomination (if the author didn’t outright refuse it), that it’s probably the single buzziest and most Important sf/f release of 2022, that it was stridently political, and plenty more besides. I also went in having mostly enjoyed The Poppy War series and being absolutely enamoured by the elevator pitch of an alternate history Industrial Revolution where translation is literally magic. And, well-

It is wrong to say I hated this book, but only because keeping track of my complaints and starting organize this review in my head was entertaining enough to keep me invested in the reading experience.

The story is set in an alternate 1830s, where the rise of the British Empire relies upon the dominance of its translators, as it is the mixture of translation and silverworking, the inscription of match-pairs in different languages on bars of worked silver and the leveraging of the ambiguity and loss of meaning between them that fuels the world’s magic. The protagonist is pluckted from his childhood home in Canton after his family dies in a cholera outbreak and whisked away to the estate of Professor Lowell, an Oxford translator he quickly realized is his unacknowledged father. He’s made to choose an English name (Robin Swift) and raised and tutored as a future translator in service to the Empire.

The meat of the story is focused on Robin’s education in Oxford, his relationship with the rest of his cohort, and his growing radicalization and entanglement with the revolutionary Hermes Society. Things come to a head when in his fourth year the cohort is sent back to Canton to, well, help provoke the first Opium War, though none of them aware of that. The final act follows the fallout of that, by which I mean it lives up to the full title of “Or the Necessity of Violence: An Arcane History of the Oxford Translators' Revolution”.

To be clear, this was technically a very accomplished book. The writing never dragged and the prose was, if not exactly lyrical, always clear and often evocative. Despite the breadth of space and time the story covers, I never had any complaints about the pacing – and honestly, the ending was, dramatically speaking, one of the more natural and well-executed ones I’ve read recently. It’s very well-constructed.

All that being said – allow me to apologize for how the rest of this is mostly just going to be a litany of complaints. But the book clearly believes itself to be an important and meaningful work of political art, which means I don’t feel particularly bad about holding it to high standards.

Narrative Voice

To start with, just, dear god the tone. This is a book with absolutely zero faith in its audience’s ability to reach their own conclusions, or even follow the symbolism and implication it lays down. Every important point is stated outright, repeated, and all but bolded and underlined. In this book set in 1830s England there are footnotes fact-checking the imperialists talking heads to, I guess, make sure we don’t accidentally become convinced by their apologia for the slave trade? Everything is just relentlessly didactic, in a way that ended up feeling rather insulting even when I agreed with the points Kuang was making.

More than that, and this is perhaps a more subjective complaint but – for an ostensible period piece, the narrative voice and perspective just felt intensely modern? This was theoretically an omniscient third person book, with the narrative voice being pretty distinct from any of the actual characters – with the result that the implicit narrator was instead the sort of person of spends six hours a day getting into arguments on twitter and for this effort calls themselves a progressive activist. The identities of all the characters – as delivered by the objective narration – were all very neat and legible from the perspective of someone at a 2022 HR department listing how diverse their team was, which was somewhere between a tragic lost opportunity to show how messy and historical racial/ethnic/national identities are and outright anachronistic, depending. (This was honestly one of the bigger disappointments, coming from Kuang’s earlier work. Say what you will of The Poppy War series, the narration is with Rin all the way down, and it trusts the reader enough not to blink.) More than that it was just distracting – the narration ended up feeling like an annoying obstacle between me and the story, and not in any fun postmodern way either.

Characters

Speaking of the cast – they simply do not sound or feel like they actually grew up in the 19th century. Now, some modernization of speech patterns and vocabulary and moral commensense is just the price of doing business with mass market period pieces, granted, but still – no 19th century Anglo-Indian revolutionary is going use the phrase ‘Narco-military state’ (if for no other reason than we’re something like a century early for ‘narco-state’ to be coined as a term at all). An even beyond feeling out of time most of the characters feel kind of thinly sketched?

Or no, it’s not that the characters are thinly sketched so much as their relationships are. We’re repeatedly, insistently told that these four students are fast friends and closer than family and would happily die for each other, but we’re very rarely actually shown it. This is partly just a causality of trying to skim over a four-year university education in the middle third of one book, I think, but still – the good times and happy moments are almost always sort of skimmed over, summarized in the course of a paragraph or two that usually talk in terms of memories and consequences more than the relationships themselves. The points of friction and the arguments, meanwhile, are usually played out entirely on the page, or at least described in much more detail. In the end you kind of have to just take it as read that any of these people actually love each other, given that at least two of them seem to be feuding at any given point for the entire time they know each other.

Letty deserves some special attention. She’s the only white member of Robin’s cohort at Babel and she honestly feels like less of acharacter and more a collection of tropes about white women in progressive spaces? Even more than the rest, it’s hard to believe the rest of the class views her as beloved ride-or-die found family when essentially every time she’s on screen it’s so she can do a microagression or a white fragility or something. Also, just – you know how relatively common it is to see just, blatantly misogynistic memes repackaged as anti-racist because it specifies ‘white women’? There’s a line in this that almost literally says ‘Letty wasn’t doing anything to disprove the stereotype of woman as uselessly emotional and hysteric’.

Also, she’s the one who ends up betraying the other three and trying to turn them in when they turn revolutionary. Which is probably inevitable given the book’s politics, but as it happened felt like less of the shocking betrayal that it was supposed to be and more just, checking off a box for a dramatic reverse. Of course she turned on them, none of them ever really seemed to even like each other.

As a Period Piece

So, the book is set in the 1830s, in the midst of the industrial revolution and its social fallout, and the leadup to the First Opium War (which is, through the magic of, well, magic ,but also mercantilist economics, make into a synecdoche for British global dominion more broadly). On the one hand, the setting is impeccably researched, recent and relevant historical events are referenced whenever they would come up, and the footnotes are full to bursting with quotes and explanations of texts or cultural ephemera that’s brought up in the narration.

On the other, the setting doesn’t feel authentic in the slightest, the portrayal of the British Empire is bizarrely inconsistent, and all that richly researched historical grounding ends up feeling less like a living world and more like a particularly well-down set for a Doctor Who episode.

The story is incredibly focused around Oxford as a city and a university. There’s a whole author’s note about the research and slight changes made into its geography and I absolutely believe its portrayal as a physical location and the laws about how women were treated and how the different colleges were organized and all that is exactly as accurate as Kuang wanted them to be. The issue is really the people. With the exception of a few cartoonish villains who barely get more than a couple pages apiece, no one feels, sounds like, or acts like they actually belong in the 19th century. The racism the protagonists struggle with all feels much more 21st century than Victorian, and the frame of mind everyone inhabits still comes across more as ‘unusually blatantly racist Englishman’ than 19th century scholars and polymaths.

This is especially blatant as far as religion goes. It’s occasionally mentioned, sure enough, but to the extent anyone actually believes in Christianity it’s of a very modern and disenchanted sort – this is a society that sends out missionaries as a conscious tool of colonial expansion, not because of anything as silly or absurd as actually wanting to spread their gospel. Also like, it’s Oxford, in the nineteenth century. For all the racism the protagonists have to deal with, they should be getting so much more shit from ‘well-meaning’ locals and students trying to save their (one Muslim, one atheist, one probably Christian but black and protective of Haitian Vodou on a cultural level which would be more than enough) souls.

Or, and this is more minor, it is a central conceit of the whole finale that if a few (like, two) determined revolutionaries can infiltrate Babel they’ll be able to take the entire place hostage with barely any trouble. This is because the students and professors there are, basically, whimpy bookworms who’ll faint at the sight of blood and have no stomach for the sort of violence their work actually supports and drives. Which – look, I really don’t want to defend the ruling class of Victorian Britain here, but I’m not sure physical cowardice is really one of their failings, as a group? I mean, there’s an entire system of institutionalized child abuse in the boarding schools they went to to get them used to taking and dealing out violence and abuse. Basically every upper-class sport is thinly disguised military drill or ritual combat (okay, or rowing). Half of them would graduate to immediately running off and invading places for the glory of the queen. I’m not sure two sleep-deprived nerds with knives would actually have been able to cow the crowd here, is what I’m saying. (This would stick out less if the text wasn’t so dripping with contempt for them on precisely these grounds.)

Much less minor are our heroic revolutionaries themselves. And okay, this is more a matter of taste than anything but like – the Hermes Society is an illegal conspiracy of renegade current and former Babel scholars dedicated to using their knowledge of magic and access to university resources to oppose and undermine the British Empire in general and the work of the school in particular. Think Metternich’s worse nightmare, but in Oxford instead of Paris and focused on colonial liberation (continental Europe barely exists for the purposes of the book, Britain is Empire.) So! A secret society of professional revolutionaries in the heydey of just that, with a name that just has to be Hermetic symbolism, who concern themselves with both high politics and metaphysics.

They are just so very, very boring. This is the age of the Conspiracy of the Equals, the Carbonari, the Seasons! The literal Illumanti are still within living memory! Where’s the pageantry, the ritual, the grandiosity? The elaborate initiation rituals and oaths of undying loyalty? They’re so pragmatic, so humble, so (and I know I keep coming back to this) modern. It’s just such an utter wasted opportunity. Even beyond the level of aesthetics, these are revolutionaries with remarkably little positive ideology – the oppose colonialism and racism for reasons they take as self-evident and so don’t feel the need to theorize about it (and talk about them with the vocabulary of a modern activist, because of course they do), but they’re pretty much consciously agnostic as to what world should look like instead. They vaguely end up supporting a sort of petty-bourgeois socialism (in the Marxist sense), but the alliance with Luddites is essentially political convenience – they really don’t seem to have any vision of the future at all, either in England or the various places they claim as homelands.

On Empire and Industrialization

The story is set during the early nineteenth century, so of course the Industrial Revolution is a pretty core part of the background. The Silver Industrial Revolution, technically, since the Babellers translation magic is in this world a key and load-bearing part of it. Despite the addition of miracle-working enhancers and supports to its fundamental technology, the industrial revolution plays out pretty identically to history – right down to the same cities becoming hubs of industry, despite steam engines using enchanted silver instead of coal and thus, presumably, the entire economic and logistical system that brought this particular cities to prominence being totally unrecognizable. This is not a book that’s in any way actually about tracing how something would change history – which isn’t a complaint, to be clear, that’s a perfectly valid creative choice.

It does, however, make it rather galling that the single actually significant difference to history is that the introduction of magic turns the industrial revolution into a Legend of Zelda boss with a giant glowing weak point you can hit to destroy the whole enterprise.

On a narrative level, I get it – it simplifies things and allows for a far happier and more dramatic ending if destroying Babel is not just a symbolic act but also literally sends London Bridge falling down and scuttles the entire royal navy and every mill and factory in Britain. It’s just that I think that by doing so it trades away any chance for actually making interesting commentary on anti-colonial and -capitalist resistance. A world where a single act of spectacular terrorism really can destroy a modern empire is frankly so detached from our world that it ceases to be able to really materially comment upon it.

Like, the principle reason to not take the Luddites as your role models is not that they were morally vicious but that they were doomed – capitalism’s ability to repair damage to infrastructure and fixed goods is legitimately very impressive! Trying to force an entire ruling class not to adopt a technology that makes whoever commits to it tremendous amounts of money (thus, power) is a herculean task even when you have a state apparatus and standing army – adding an ‘off’ button to the lot of it just trades all sense of relevance for a satisfyingly cathartic ending.

(This is leaving untouched how the book just takes it as a given that the industrial revolution was a strictly immiserating force that did nothing but redistribute money from artisans to capitalists. Which certainly tracks as something people at the time would have thought but given how resolutely modern all the other politics in the work are rings really weirdly.)

All of which is only my second biggest issue with how the book presents its successful resistance movement. It all pales in comparison to making the Empire a squeamish paper tiger.

Like, the book hates colonialism in general and the British Empire in particular, the narrative and footnotes are filled with little asides about various atrocities and injustices and just ways it was racist or complicit in some particular atrocity. But more than that it is contemptuous of it, it views the empire as (as the cliche goes) a perpetually rotting edifice that just needs one good kick; that it persists only through the myth of its own invincibility, and has no stomach for violent resistance from within. Which is absolutely absurd, and the book does seem to know it on occasion when it off-handedly mentions e.g. the Peterloo Massacre – but a character whose supposed to be the grizzled cynical pragmatic revolutionary still spouts off about how slave rebellions succeed because their masters aren’t willing to massacre their own property. Which is just so spectacularly wrong on every axis its actually almost offensive.

More importantly, the entire final act of the story relies upon the fact that the British Empire would allow a handful of foreign students seize control of a vital piece of infrastructure for weeks on end and do nothing but try to wait them out as the national physically falls apart around them. Like, c’mon, there would be siege artillery set up and taking shots by the end of week two. As with the Oxford students, the Victorian elite had all manner of flaws – take your pick, really – but squeamishness wasn’t really one of them.

On Magic

So the magical system underlying the whole story is – you know how Machinaries of Empire makes imperial ideology and metaphysics literally magical, giving expert technicians the ability to create superweapons and destroy worlds provided that the Hexarchate’s subjects observe the imperial calendar of rites and celebrate its triumphs/participate in rituals glorying in the torture of its ‘heretics’? It’s not exactly a subtle metaphor, but it works.

Babel does something similar, except the foundational atrocity fueling the engine of empire on a metaphysical level is, like, cultural appropriation. As an organizing metaphor, I find this less compelling.

Leaving that aside, the story makes translation literally capable of miracle-working – which of necessity requires making ‘languages’ distinct natural categories with observable metaphysical boundaries. It then sets the story in the 19th century – the era of newborn nation states and education systems and national literatures, where the concept of the national-linguistic community was the obsession of the entire European intelligentsia. Now this is not a book concerned with how the presence of magic would actually have changed history, in the slightest, but like – given how fascinated it is by translation and linguistics you’d think the whole ‘a language is a dialect with a navy’ cliché would at least get a light mention (but then the book doesn’t really treat language as any more inherent or natural than it does any other modern identity category, I suppose.)

As an Allegory

Okay, so having now spent an embarrassing number of words establishing to my own satisfaction that the book really doesn’t work at all as a period piece, let us consider; what if it wasn’t trying to be?

A great many things about the book just fit much better if you take it as a commentary on the modern university with Victorian window-dressing. Certainly the driving resentment of Oxford as an institution that sustains itself and grows rich off the exploitation of international students it considers second-class seems far more apt applied to contemporary elite western schools than 19th century ones. Likewise the racism the heroes face all seems like the kind you’d expect in a modern English town rather than a Victorian one. I’m not well-versed enough on the economics of the city to know for sure, but I would wager that the gleeful characterization of Oxford as a city that literally starts falling to ruin without the university to support it was also less accurate in the 1830s than it is today.

Read like this, everything coheres much better – but the most striking thing becomes the incredible vanity of the book. This is a morality tale where the natural revolutionary vanguard with the power to bring global hegemony to its knees through nothing but witholding their labour are..students at elite western universities (not, I must say, a class I’d consider in dire need of having their egos boosted). The emotions underlying everything make much more sense, but the plot itself becomes positively myopic.

Beyond that – if this is a story about international students at elite universities, it does a terrible job of actually portraying them. Or, properly, it only shows a certain type; just about every foreign-born student or professor we meet is some level of revolutionary, deeply opposed in principle to the empire they work within. No one is actually convinced by the carrot of a life as an exploited but exceedingly comfortable and well-compensated technician in the imperial core, and there’s not really acknowledgement at all of just how much of the apparatus of international institutions and governments in the global south – including positions with quite a bit of real power – end up being staffed by exactly that demographic who just sincerely agree with the various ideological projects employing them. Kuang makes it far too easy on herself by making just about every person of colour in the books one of the good guys, and totally undersells how convincing hegemonic ideology can be, basically.

The Necessity of Violence

This is a pet peeve and it’s a very minor thing that I really wouldn’t bring it up if that wasn’t literally part of the title. But it is, so – it’s a plot point that’s given a decent amount of attention that Griffin (Robin’s secret older brother, grizzled professional revolutionary, his introduction to anti-colonialism) is blamed for murdering one of his classmates who had the bad luck to be studying while he was sneaking in to steal some silver – a student that was quite well-loved by the faculty and her very successful classmates, who have never forgiven him. Later on, it’s revealed that this is an utter rewriting of history, and she’d been a double agent pretending to let herself be recruited into the Hermes Society who’d been luring Griffin into an ambush when he killed her and escaped.

This is – well, the most predictable not-even-a-twist imaginable, for one, but also – just rank cowardice. You titled the book ‘the necessity of violence’, the least you can do is actually own it and show that violent resistance means people (with faces, and names, not just abstractions only ever talked about in general terms) who are essentially personally innocent are going to end up collateral damage, and people are going to hold grudges about it. Have some courage in your convictions!

Translation

Okay, all of that said, this isn’t a book that’s wholly bad, or anything. In particular, you can really tell how much of a passion Kuang has for the art and science of translation. The depth of knowledge and eagerness to share just about overflows from the page whenever the book finds an excuse to talk about it at length, and it’s really very endearing. The philosophizing about translation was also as a rule much more interesting and nuanced then whenever the book tried to opine about high politics or revolutionary tactics.

Anyways, I really can’t recommend the book in any real way, but it did stick in my head for long enough that I’ve now written 4,000 words about it. So at the very least it’s the interesting sort of bad book, y’know?

[dykeknightrises]

PROMISES

A/N: I'd just like to say that I'm in absolute awe about the reactions to FALLING, really! I was very hesitant to post something that I've wrote but now I can't help but to be super excited laknkdns Seriously, thank you guys SO much for it! Here's part two, I hope you enjoy it <3

PART 1 - FALLING

PART 3 - US

After a couple of years living the best and worst of her life, Alexia promised herself a break. A year where she would be one hundred percent focused on football and herself. She had a lot to catch up with her family and with being comfortable with herself after her injury.

Everything had been going fairly well on that front until Y/N arrived in Barcelona. Alexia remembered the bright-eyed teenager, far too young to be playing in the u-19 team, being playing great, nonetheless. Watching the teen leave absolutely everything even when they were down 4-0 made Alexia respect her immediately and to keep up with her career whenever she could.

The Y/N was far from the shy teenager that Alexia first met, but still so terrifyingly similar. Her first few weeks in Barcelona passed in a blur, but not a good one. The midfielder and the rest of the team barely interacted with the newest signing and when it happened, which was strictly at practice since she didn’t join them when they spend time together, it was mostly through the shortest sentences possible.

Alexia realized the smallest flinch from Y/N whenever someone spoke to her in Spanish. She didn’t mean to and was honestly certain nobody else, even yourself, realized it. Then every downed on her.

Her time playing with Espanyol and Levante was weird. She was still in her home, still in her country, still in her city, but everything was just so different. Her teammates, the team culture, everything made her doubt herself for the first few months. A new country, a new city, a new language, a whole new culture? Alexia could not fathom that.

Settling in making Y/N feel home, Alexia now spent most of her time dedicating herself to her. They were partners in every training drill, spending their time together doing the heavy speaking in English. When she was home, countless of hours on YouTube were split between watching highlights of Y/N through the years and on tutorials about the best ways to make someone feel welcomed.

She wasn’t sure why and at that point she didn’t care enough to ask, but she needed Y/N to feel at home in Barcelona. When her attempts were going well, but too slowly for her liking, she was running out of patience.

Walking Nala down the streets was something she was doing a lot lately, lost in thoughts about Y/N. The little furball got tired after twenty minutes of their walk, making Alexia pick her up, only then realizing where she was.

In front of her stood her favourite chocolate store, the best in the entire Spin if anyone asked her. Deciding to buy a bar a pick-me-up for the moment, she walked into the store, greeting to small family that owned the business and making small talk.

Picking the small bar of milk chocolate, her hand unconsciously hovered on a second one, for Y/N. With her own bar clutched in her hand, she stood in front on the chocolate bars display, not knowing which one was your favourite. After a few minutes of contemplation, she grabbed one of every single chocolate the store held, giving the owner a sheepish smile as the old man raised his eyebrows at her purchase.

It was a Thursday when she got the guts to approach Keira to ask such a random and somewhat personal question. The Englishwoman responding very confusedly, making Alexia bolt before she could ask any follow up question on why.

Going to her car to retrieve the precious bar on a break from practice, Alexia slipped it in her locker before any of the girls could see and went back. When training was over, she managed to catch up with Y/N on an empty hallway by the pitch, telling her that it was okay to be with the team even if you weren’t in “Spanish Mode” yet, they just wanted your presence.

When she sees the realization down on Y/N eyes, she confirms that she didn’t even realize what was happening. Knowing that, if you were anything like herself, a whole moment of self-reflection would follow the realization. Alexia slips that chocolate bar on her hands and squeezes her shoulder as she leaves.

The unknown feeling growing in her gut through the rest of the day and the next one too, unsure if she overstepped or not. It was the team’s first Friday off since preseason and she was so desperately uneasy about it, unsure if she made things worse.

Walking into their usual restaurant, Alexia felt her heart skip a beat as she hears Y/N laugh at something Frido said, the smile brighter than everything around. Settling herself in the seat in front of her, being greeted with a smile and a warm gaze, a silent “thank you” written all over it.

 It wasn’t long until everything was fitting together. The team quickly welcoming her into the family and their routine stronger than ever. It wasn’t until she refused the invitation to hang out with her friends for the sixth week in a row and got called out on it that Alexia realized that Thursdays had became their day.

She was fine with sharing Y/N with the team the whole time but was so deeply grateful to have her for herself on Thursdays. Sharing their passion for football, exploring the city, and cooking together had quickly became the favourite part of Alexia’s week.

Days bled into weeks, which bled into months, and everything was perfect. It wasn’t far from Winter Break when she went to lunch with the Putellas, this time without Y/N, and got asked where her girlfriend was that Alexia realized her feelings.

Loving Y/N was disturbingly easy, Alexia though laying in bed later that day. She’d been doing it for months now. Every moment of her days she wanted her there and every moment of her night she dreamt about her.

The warmness of her discovery was slowly cooled by the realization that had already broken her promise to herself. The heartbreak of her past relationships sucker puncher her into choking down a sob, knowing that she could not take that once again, not from Y/N.

The next month passed in a haze. Alexia felt like the biggest liar, and she smiled, making sure no one could see past it. It wasn’t until she reached home that she allowed herself to crack, suffering from a paralyzing fear of having her heart broken before she even gave it away once more.

It was on their Thursday that she felt herself cracking, knowing she couldn’t be alone with Y/N, cuddled up on a couch, being surrounded by her. Texting her asking to go out instead was easy, choosing Sala Apollo came unconsciously because, even if she could be alone with Y/N, she still did not want to share her on their day.

Breathtaking. Jaw dropping. Beautiful.

Words only came to Alexia brain a few beats after Y/N opened her door or them to go out. A stutter complimenting her was the only thing the Catalonian managed to slip out before she was dragged out of the apartments complex by hand and getting in the Uber.

The decision to drink that night was a well though out one. On one hand she felt like she needed a couple of drinks to function near the younger woman that moment, but she was well aware that her inhibitions lowered considerably. She chose to drink.

Dancing with her, Alexia felt every single part of her on fire. Whenever the touched, for the briefest seconds, her heart skipped a beat, and her breath was taken away. Hands slipping on Y/N waist, pulling her closer, was a necessity.

When Y/N perfume hit her nostrils, Alexia knew she was gone. Losing any shred on self-control, Y/N was the entire world right now. Hands roaming, lips finding the skin on her neck, sucking, and biting like her life depended on it. Maybe it did. Y/N turned around to kiss her and when their lips met Alexia was sure she was in heaven.

Going home, staying up the whole night, discovering each other in so many ways was everything Alexia ever dreamed of. The warm, sweaty tanned skin against her, made her overflow. She was everything.

Waking up on the next day to a cold bed made her choke. Reality crashed down, eyes glassing as she though she was being left once again. Minutes passed, with Alexia trying desperately to not cry before she heard the noise in the kitchen.

Slipping a shirt in, she stopped on the threshold, watching Y/N happily making them breakfast. Somehow, that made her hurt more. The thought that she could have left, that she the worst of you for just keeping their routine. It made her feel sick.

She knew then that she was not ready. The feelings she held for those tortuous moment where far worse than any previous heartbreak. Just the thought that Y/N left almost broke her. Alexia knew right then that she could not be with Y/N right now, no matter how much she ached for her.

Alexia was not enough for Y/N right now.

When she turned around, spotting her tucked in a corner of her own apartment, Y/N looked at her like she hung the sun, the moon and everything else. Her breathes came out ragged as Y/N came closer, warm smile and sparkling eyes still in place.

“This was a mistake.” Alexia choked out before she came any closer. The Spaniard knew that any poor excuse that she came would never be enough.

Y/N steps haltered, no more then a couple of meters away from her, lips parting and heart breaking. Alexia could see the younger woman opening and closing her mouth, frown in place, trying to come up with an answer.

“Oh.” The word came out in a breathless sound, after what felt like a whole eternity. “I’m sorry. I’ll get out of your hair now.”

“Y/N” The blonde called, holding the other woman’s wrist, desperately not wanting her to go, despite messing everything up.

“It’s okay, Alexia. We will be okay. We are okay.” She said, slipping her wrist out of Alexia’s grasp, shutting the door after her.

She took her heart with her. Any will to do anything and joy left right after them. Falling to the floor, on the same corner that everything became a mess, Alexia let herself be mess too. Sobs wreaking her body for hours, only getting up to crawl to bed when night came.

Days came and went, turning into weeks, and Alexia was still broken. She could not look at Y/N without breaking. That was reserved for the privacy of her place, where she didn’t have to be the Alexia Putellas, where she wasn’t a symbol of strength. Strong was the last thing she felt in those months.

Months passed by before Alexia even saw anyone after practice. She missed team bonding, birthdays, media duties, her own family. A knock on the door broke her out of the pit of misery of the day, making her drag her feet through the floor, feeling like her legs weighted a thousand kilos.

The grinning face of her childhood best friend greeted her when she opened the door. The grin quickly lost the place when Ana actually saw her. Pushing past her and settling down on the couch after opening a bottle of wine, the woman looked at her with an expectant gaze.

Alexia knew she could tell her the truth. Ana was her friend enough to just call her stupid and tell her to beg for forgiveness. But she didn’t know Y/N, didn’t know Alexia’s feelings. So, the blonde settled for a lie.

Maybe the lie was too good, because the very next day, she showed up with her girlfriend and another woman. A surprise double date, she said. The woman was great, there was nothing wrong with her. In fact, Alexia was sure that if she did not love Y/N so deeply she would have giver her a chance. But she was not her.

The next day, a Friday, Mapí and Marta coaxed the date out of her. Not that it was much to tell, Alexia herself was only half present for it, but it was enough. Enough because Y/N arrived in the locker room just as the defenders teased her about it. Y/N lips trembled when she heard the word date and that was enough to bring tears that were never shed to Alexia’s eyes.

She cancelled lunch with her family again on the weekend. She hadn’t gone back ever since they asked her about Y/N, too scared that they would see her, that they knew. Preparing herself for another day the bare minimum for herself, her door opened. Alba standing on the doorstep. Alexia never saw her baby sister look so angry.

“What the fuck is wrong with you, Alexia?” the younger sister growled, entering the apartment. “Mamá is pit of worry because you look like someone has been running over you with their car everyday for the past year!”

“I’m sorry.” Alexia choked, flinching away from her sister.

She didn’t even realize that the tears, her current best friend, has already spilled out of her eyes and found home running down on her cheeks until Alba cradled her face, holding her in a hug. They laid on the comfortable couch for hours before Alexia managed to stop crying, her sister not laxing her hold for any second, whispering quiet reassurances at her every few moments.

“Ale, what’s going on?”

“I fucked it up.” She breathed out, before telling her everything.

That day was months ago. Surprising her, Alba didn’t judge her, didn’t jump the gun as usual, she held her, reassured her and gave really good advice. Which brought her to now.

Alexia spent the last few months talking extensively to her therapist about it, about everything. Her heartbreak, her injury, falling in love again. She wasn’t better yet, but she was in a much better place than before. More than wanting Y/N to love her back again, she needed her in her life, even if she had thrown away her only chance of them spending their lives together.

Today marked a whole month that Alexia came every day to Y/N doorstep, looking at the piece of wood that stood between her and the love of her life for hours, too much of a coward to knock. Finishing the cup of coffee that the awfully familiar doorman gave her from his on stash, she got up, standing in front of the door.

She had been in that exact place far too often, never knocking. Lifting her fist, she banged against the door before loosing her courage once again, like she had done far too many times.

Y/N opened her door and took Alexia’s breath away. She stood there, with a little black dress, light makeup coating her face and heels that put her just a little bit shorter than the Catalonian. The blonde felt her mouth dry at the sight of her, hands trembling away, tucked into her hoodie.

She felt like she had stood there, forever, just taking Y/N in, appreciating her, breathing her in. The younger woman was everything. She had always been everything. Her impossibly soft gaze, even now, asked Alexia what she was doing there.

“I was hoping we could have our usual Thursday? I have a lot that I need to say to you.”

[sea-owl]

Ok but I wanna talk about Portia in that trailer and the absolute pride in her voice when she's taking to Penelope.

I personally love Portia's character and how she's been a foil to Violet in that she's a loving mother, but she's also a realist about the society they live in. She's a tough love, no nonsense type of mother. She's making sure everyone survives as a top priority, if she has to be mean to get them there than so be it.

She's been at odds with Penelope the last two seasons mainly because of their different views. Portia is a realist, while Penelope still has dreams like most 17-18 year olds. Portia, in her own way, has been trying to bring Penelope back to reality.

An example of this to me is the scene where Portia finds out Penelope has been writing to Colin. The first thing she says "I declare Penelope," in a softer tone and when Penelope declares Colin her friend that tone becomes more strict. She tells Penelope, "Colin Bridgerton is no more your friend than I am the next Catherine the Great." Is it mean? Yup. But looking at it through Portia's eyes there's some truth to it. Their society doesn't allow friendships between single men and women. Colin and Penelope writing to one another without being engaged or even a proper courtship was actually very inappropriate. Portia probably does understand that there really isn't anything inappropriate in those letters and they are actually friends but she also knows no one else would see it that way. If she wanted she would have been well within her rights to go to Anthony about it and raise a fuss. She needs Penelope to see this too.

Now come season 3 in Portia's pov Penelope is finally taking the marriage mart seriously. She's got herself a suitor who is a titled lord, and Portia is proud of her. No more silly little fantasies of love. Meanwhile Penelope is probably weirded out with some other mixed feelings by this because this isn't what she is used to from her mother.

Makes me excited to see where their relationship goes. Because honestly, Penelope probably inherited the most from her mother, but she's in denial about it. It mostly comes out in Lady Whistledown, but that sharp wit and scheming mind is Portia. Penelope will actually fall into Portia's line of thinking when she's backed into a corner. When she saved both Colin and Eloise, she knew they would be hurt, and she's sorry about that, but she also knows they'll be safe. That is Portia's school of thought 101.

I've also been wanting to see how they approach the big heart to heart between the two of them. I want them to get into a screaming match that breaks down into them sincerely talking to one another. Penelope's confidence is supposed to get a boost this season, and we know she's not afraid to subtley barb at her mother. I hope they have Penelope confront Portia at some point, forcing everything out in the open.

[ganondoodle]

was watching another totk video and through that found out what the reward is for completing koltins quests, honestly im not really surprised but also baffled and it really just shows, once again, that totk kinda does exactly what you shouldnt do in a sequel imo.. double down on all the bad stuff of the previous title

at this point i have talked about various problems in detail but i just keep realizing over and over just how much of the wrong lesson they seemed to take from botw, they recycled almost everything from botw by changing some paint or some words, made a giant game even bigger and filled it with boring and tedious busy work that has mediocre to insulting rewards EVEN MORE than botw

game too big and empty? make it TWICE as big, change barely anything about the map of the previous title and the new added map(s) is ONE biom that almost everywhere looks the same and even emptier with little to do

too many krogs? MAKE IT MORE and double down on the literally shit reward bc its the SAME just with one more stack of shit

too many shrines with short puzzles? ADD EVEN MORE and make them even shorter and easier to complete, alot of them not even involving a puzzle and multiple being an utterly out of place tutorial that could have been explained to you in a single text box

rewards in the overworld being mostly either a krog or a shrine which gets repetetive with shrines being ALOT and krogs being wayyy too many? add even MORE shrines and EVEN MORE krogs, but now add over a hundred of caves to it that all get repetetive after just a few of them and you only do them for a shrine or a currency you have to collect to get one cool looking but pretty bad to use armor set and a piece of cloth for your parasail that you can only use one of at the tiem and to switch have to go back to a specific NPC, theres ghost lights to collect which only serve to yet again buy one armor set from a set of NPCs and ar meaningless afterwards, the light roots dont require you to do anything but walk to them and the reward for finding them all is a "you did it" sticker that doesnt even stick (its useless)

weapons break too quickly? well make the weapons you can find even worse to force you to fuse a material to it so its at all usable BUT IT STILL BREAKS and when it does it breaks not JUST the weapon but ALSO a material, materials that you will need for now EVEN MORE EXPENSIVE armor upgrades too, weapons cannot be rewards anymore either bc they will always have to be fused with something to make them stronger bc none is strong on its own- this also applies to THE MASTERSWORD, something ALSO complained about that it still 'breaks' even after empowering it through the DLC in botw, and now it cant even BE empowered (bc no DLC) unless you fuse soemthing to it (to. the. MASTERSWORD.) EVEN THO EMPOWERIGN THE MASTERSWORD IS THE ENTIRE POINT OF ZELDAS ULTIMATELY MEANING- AND CONSEQUENCELESS SACRIFICE !!

the dungeons were to samey and simple? make them look different but keep the core structure (activate terminals in completely seperate from each other "puzzles", fight boss) while also makign them be even more skippable (climable walls, the ceiling jump ability- something the titans DIDNT have) with incredibly easy bossfights that end with an embarassing copy and paste scene that hits you over the head with long known and obvious information over and over

people didnt like how the story was so detached from everything in the present? well, make the story and the present EVEN MORE detached from anything in the present, so far in fact that there is literally no connection to it aside from zelda who is the only connective thread and is also only treated as such (she is as personality lacking as sonia as soon as shes yoinked into the past) and the suddendly and out of nowhere intruduced architecture and history that wasnt a thing in botw but is treated like it was always there

people didnt like how far botw was detached from all other zelda games? ok totk is not only FURTHER detached from those it also completely detached itself from its on predecessor :)

people didnt like the memory system? ok make it WORSE then, its a linear story now that you can ruin by seeing even one out of order, they are super short and dont give you anymore context to anythign than the things you could figure out yourself or were already told really, instead of giving you views into a characters personality you get to view a basic plot summary of a story that is so flavorless and predictable i knew what would happen from the start yet acts like its being vague and cool that i felt like i was beign treated like a literal toddler

too few enemy types? well, we will reuse the old ones EVEN MORE thant before over twice the map and the new ones that are there are either utterlly irrelevant to change up the gameplay or largely feel like the old ones just with a paint job (constructs), the griocks looked cool at first but are just a more annyoing version of the lynels (who feel like an actual duel, akin to a proper boss)

even the things that were adressed, or attempted to, didnt fully work, like the bosses ARE more unique, but also still so incredibly easy and ALSO have multiple duplicats just sitting around in the underground despite them being supposedly the root of the problems of the regions (i like refighting bosses, but id rather have a character that lets me choose ok i wann fight this one again and teleporte me into a vision or sth- also the most fun fights arent even part of it (koga) )

the rain complaint got a new effect type to counteract it, which ... doesnt work well, you need specific materials to make potions with that effect which you also need to upgrade the only armor set wit hthat effect that ONLY works once you upgrade it (i think ... i dont know how high i got it but if even the full upgraded set doesnt negate the rain effect i will not be surprised either lol) also it adds just yet another effect type that spams your inventory and you dont really need .... or i might be the only one that saw no value at all in the "attack up when hot" new type of effects bc it felt so specific and situational while also having a way better option (just make it a standard attack up thing?) at least in my eyes-

... ill stop here .... this got longer again didnt it O-o

[elliethejellie]

The Lovebug Virus - Chapter One: Intrigue

Yandere! Sun and Moon x Reader

Masterlist || Read it on AO3 || Chapter Two (coming soon!)

*****

No one usually took the time to look at Y/N. She was an empty, shell of a person with little interest in what others her age would find entertaining.

She didn't go out to eat and drink with friends. The thought of going out to make conversation with strangers was a foreign concept to her. The mere implication of loud music and drawling small talk sent shivers down her spine.

No, what Y/N spent most of her free time doing, usually involved quiet spaces with relaxing music - hidden away under a blanket with a book or her laptop and no expectation of the exchange of dialogue. She would partake in gardening to get her daily intake of sunlight, and then you would find her right back inside - cozied up with a stuffie and relaxing.

Most others would say that she lived a lonely life. She didn't mind, really. She never had any reason to believe that the way she went about her days was depressing. The hours spent daydreaming and falling into different worlds brought her joy. 

Her parents had always left her to her own devices growing up. They would buy her toys and games and encourage her to play outside with the neighbors - but Y/N was never interested. So they had promptly given up and resorted to allowing her some space of her own. Other parents would question their parenting methods, although these were mostly snarky older women that felt the need to insert their input where nobody asked for it. Y/N always heard those conversations. Her parents always defended her.

They weren't the best parental figures in the world, but they allowed her to learn and grow on her own. She never saw much of an issue with it. She enjoyed it, honestly. But as with anything, there was a catch.

Should a single grade slip from its perfect little pointed "A+," she would kiss her freedom goodbye. Her privacy, independence, and otherwise happiness were privileges - that was made clear from the beginning. So she learned quickly that anything less than perfect was unacceptable and wrong.

When the time came for her to think of college, she didn't really have much outside of her quaint little world that she wanted. But her parents insisted - so she looked into robotics and engineering. 

This had surprised everyone that knew her (even though that wasn't necessarily a lot of people). Her parents were proud and they boasted about the decision to anyone and everyone that would listen. One of her parents' friends had asked if they were putting a lot of pressure on her for bragging about her career choice, but Y/N was close enough earshot that she had meandered through the kitchen and denied such a claim nonchalantly.

Going to college proved to be more of a positive thing than she ever would have imagined. Despite her quiet demeanor, she made a friend rather quickly. Said friend was the exact opposite of Y/N - loud and boisterous, indulging in "normal" college behavior like it was her lifeline. 

Kat had grown to become Y/N's best friend - even with all odds stacked against their friendship. College had introduced them to each other, and they spent a lot of their free time together now. They considered each other best friends - after all, living two completely different lives meant they never ran out of things to talk about and show each other.

The only small, minute detail Y/N found herself grumbling about quietly was the fact that she needed a job. Her parents promised they would cover her tuition, allow her to live with them rent-free, and even buy her groceries for her - as long as she kept up the garden she so dearly loved. But that left no money for her to buy more books, or keep up with her various subscriptions online. Privileges her antisocial self felt she needed. The things she had spent her whole life using to keep herself happy. Activities that allowed her to shove away the feelings of loneliness that so desperately threatened to spill over into the content she felt for the life she lived.

It was the only reason she stood where she did now, staring up into the soft white, glowing eyes of a sunny-themed animatronic as her heart hammered in her chest. There was absolutely nothing she had experienced thus far to properly ready her for this change in her life. She wondered silently to herself why she would agree to take on such a challenge - but Kat's voice echoed through her head like the ghost of a disappointed mother.

"You need interaction, Meatball! There's so many things out there in the world and you keep yourself cooped up in your room all day!"

"Well, my room doesn't disappoint me, or try to roofie me when I walk away to use the bathroom," she had said in response, gathering her homework from her desk and neatly placing it in her three ring binder. Kat grabbed a pillow off of Y/N's neatly made bed and chucked it at her.

"That was one time! And I was fine! He was just jealous of the attention I was getting from his girlfriend," she joked. But her giggling was replaced with a sigh as she watched Y/N pick the pillow up and place it exactly where it had been before Kat threw it. "Come on, girl. You said it yourself - you need the money. You only have to keep the job for three months. That's how long the contract lasts. Then you can happily quit if need be." 

Y/N's grip on her binder tightened at the thought of being bound by contract to a noisy, bustling daycare as a security guard. Small children always made her uneasy. They were unpredictable - running around and happy one moment, throwing themselves on the ground and crying the next. But as her eyes drifted down to the book lying on the edge of her desk, she sighed. All of the characters in all of her books needed to go through character development. Maybe now was her time? 

"Alright, KitKat. Get me an application."

"So like I said, you don't have to interact with the kids much. That's Sun's job. You just have to make sure that meals get here on time, cleanup is done right, and that this hunk of junk works the way it's supposed to," Max said, jabbing his thumb up at the robot. Sun glared at him, or so Y/N assumed he did. His arms crossed and faceplate turned towards Kat's older brother, his rays shrinking back slightly. But his smile remained unchanging. 

Why did FazCo think a non-expressive faceplate was a good idea?

"So, um... Do I need to walk around and watch him, or...?"

"Oh god no," Max responded, typing vigorously on the keyboard in front of him. "Do you see the size of this damn place? You'll only need to watch from the cameras here."

"Language, Mr. Diaz," Sun chirped from his spot, still standing on the opposite side of the security desk. Max laughed and rolled his eyes.

"Yeah, and he's a stickler for the rules," he mumbled. Y/N took a moment to look at the other monitors on the desk. They all displayed different cameras overlooking the daycare and its attachments. There were several pointed at the main play area. But there was also one in each of the party rooms, a few in the theatre, and some as far out as Kid's Cove. 

Y/N took note of each camera and tried to figure out where on the walls and ceiling they were. She only stopped when she realized the yellow jester bot was still looking at her. Again, that's at least what she assumed. His eyes held no irises - only a faint white glow that appeared to shift every so often. She opened her mouth to speak, but the oddly-colored and bulky watch on Max's wrist chimed. He groaned as he looked at it.

"Dammit," he hissed, making Sun mutter another chastise in his direction. He ignored it, typed something else quickly on the computer, and then grabbed his security hat from where he left it next to one of the monitors. "Something came up, so I gotta go." He then snapped as if he remembered something important - reaching into one of his pockets and pulling out a dark purple lanyard. "This is your temporary security badge until we get you fully put into the system," he said, sounding distracted. Y/N reached out to grab it, but Max didn't let it go immediately. "Never go anywhere without this, you hear me?"

Y/N felt anxiety prick at the base of her spine. "Y-Yeah, I hear you," she said hesitantly. Max let go of the badge and rushed out of the daycare without another word. 

"Oh, don't worry about him, new friend!" Sun exclaimed suddenly, startling Y/N. She ogled at the animatronic as she pulled the lanyard over her head. "Welcome to the daycare!" He stretched his arms up above his head dramatically, reminding Y/N of one of those water spouts that people put in personal ponds and lakes sometimes.

"Thanks," she mumbled, biting her tongue before she could embarrassingly mutter a 'you too' in his direction. She sat down in one of the office chairs and looked at the monitors again. Sun didn't walk away to continue on with his job - instead opting to lean down on the desk and place his eyes right above the edge of the screen Y/N was looking at.

"New friend," he singsonged, listing his head to the side once she peered at him. "Wanna come play a game with me and the little sunbites? Our old handler would play games with us."

"Old handler?" The question slipped from her mouth before she even had a chance to think about it. Sun's eyes widened (the first bit of facial expression she'd witnessed from the bot) and he stood back up to his full height. 

"Y-Yeah, but that doesn't matter!" he stuttered, waving his hands in front of himself as if physically shooing the question away. "Anyways, we can play hide and seek, tag, or even cops and robbers!"

If the unease wasn't present in the form of expression of Y/N's face, the heat rising to her cheeks definitely was. "I don't know," she said hesitantly. Her eyes darted to the rowdy children screaming and running around the colorful play space. Sun's rays retracted behind his faceplate slightly. 

"Oh," he said, deflated. Y/N felt pity flutter in her heart. Why, she couldn't tell. But something about the way his demeanor changed at her rejection of the games reminded her almost of... herself. 

"Why would anyone want to play cards with you? That's a boring game."

"A book club? But kids your age should be running around a playground."

"No, coloring is an inside game. We're playing outside."

"Actually," Y/N said, standing from the chair and pulling a few of her belongings from her pockets to place on the desk. "Do you know the game telephone?" she asked, and somehow Sun's smile seemed to grow wider.

The solar animatronic gathered up the excited children - guiding all the ones that wanted to play into a big circle in one of the cushioned play areas. The ones that didn't he sat down at one of the plastic tables to color, rendering the large daycare quiet besides the never-ending looped theme that played from some hidden speaker overhead. Y/N watched him as he interacted with the young ones, finding herself surprised that he was so gentle with them. 

Of course the daycare attendant would have to be gentle. But something about the way his voice changed when he spoke, or even the little hand gestures he used to keep their attention on him - it made her curious about his programming. Advanced AI was still something relatively new when it came to commercial use. It felt like only a few months ago that chatboxes utilizing AIs were first introduced to the general public. It had quickly gotten out of hand and forced several companies to close their doors due to being sued for copyright infringements and other various crimes. 

But not long after that, corporations latched onto the idea of being able to replace humans with technology. It was beneficial to them - not having to worry about human error in places that cost them millions in losses for that exact reason. Several protests emerged, but they were incapable of rallying enough support to prohibit the advancement in research and programming. Some loophole about original work and free speech - Y/N didn't really remember. 

It didn't take much time for robots to start to replace simple jobs. Unimportant roles like gas station cashiers and janitors were replaced with animatronic versions, and it had worked so well that the furthering of said technology couldn't be stopped. 

Fazbear Entertainment latched onto the idea quickly, especially given that they had been working with AI for years under the table. One thing led to another and now? Well, she was looking at the result of such changes.

"With a show of hands, let me see who knows how to play the game telephone," Sun said, looking around at all of the bright little faces. Several hands shot into the air excitedly. A lot of the older kids had played, but many of the younger ones looked around at their peers quizzically. "So a fairly new game to most of you, I see," Sun continued.

He explained the game in the simplest terms possible, which only furthered Y/N's secret fascination for the bot. She spent the entirety of his explanation just taking in his appearance with more detail. He definitely looked the part in regards to a FazCo animatronic. That much was obvious. But the thought took too long to actually hold weight in her head.

It's not that Sun didn't have mechanical clicks and a voice box full of static - he was definitely an animatronic. But when compared to the others within the pizzaplex, there were definitely major differences. The others - the Glamrocks - were bulky and wore 80's themed garments that reflected the vibe of the entire mall.  They had expressive faces and a lot of preset voice lines. Sun just didn't look like he belonged in the lineup.

Although, that fact was at least obvious to the higher ups, as the advertisements for the obnoxiously inclusive, over-glorified mall never included the daycare attendant. Y/N remembered seeing one of the unskippable ads before a youtube video once. Nothing was mentioned about the daycare - not even in passing did they mention that the plex offered childcare. It made her curious now, but at the time she hadn't thought much about it. 

She played along with the kids in the slow paced game - giggling slightly every time the child next to her whispered something she knew wasn't the phrase Sun had started with. The sunbot always played up whatever was whispered to him at the end of the line, covering his unchanging mouth and tilting his head to the side - even retracting his rays as he did earlier. 

If FazCo had such an intelligent form of AI running their daycare, why hadn't they tried to utilize the same programming for the other animatronics?

After a while, most of the children grew bored of the game - asking Sun if they could leave to color or play in the structures again. He seemed hesitant to allow them to at first, but soon they stopped putting effort into the game, so he eventually dismissed them all. Y/N went back to her seat at the security desk just as the first few parents showed up to pick up their children. Y/N learned from Sun how the security bands worked, making her feel quite dumb for not realizing that each child wore a colored bracelet that held all of their information. 

Soon, all that remained of the earlier bustling daycare play area was one rather quiet child. She hadn't left Sun's side from the moment she arrived after being dropped off from school. She had short, dark hair with blue at the ends stuffed under a baseball cap of the local team. Currently, she was following Sun around like a puppy with separation anxiety - her blue eyes desperately following each movement of the solar animatronic's hands as he cleaned. Y/N couldn't help but find her fascination with the simple tasks amusing because she related to her curiosity.

Then the notification popped up on the monitor in front of her that the girl - whose name was Rosalie - was now in queue to be picked up. Sun lifted his head from the table he had been wiping down and smiled at the little girl. "Rosie posie, looks like your mom is here!" he said brightly, picking the girl up and placing her on his shoulders. She squealed with delight as he lead her over to the cubbies that contained her backpack, shoes, and other various personal belongings. One of those belongings was a dark blue plush, but Y/N couldn't tell what it was from where she sat. 

A yawn forced its way from her mouth as Sun finished with checking Rosalie out from the daycare. He talked with the girl's mother for a while - only deepening Y/N's fascination with him. He could speak with children fluently - making jokes and pulling off silly voices to keep them entertained. But he could also sound completely serious and relay information to adults without puns or snickering.

It was like he was just another human. 

"Have a Fazerific day, Rosalie! See you tomorrow!" Sun called out of the door. He shut it, and immediately let out a satisfied simulated sigh before turning towards Y/N. 

She dropped her head down and tried to busy herself with the keyboard in front of her. She didn't know why she was embarrassed to have been watching the animatronic - he probably didn't mind, given that children stared at him all the time. But the warmth crept up to her cheeks nonetheless.

"New friend, do you need help learning the proper way to sanitize the daycare?" he asked, approaching the desk again and resuming the same position he had earlier. 

"Wait, what?" Y/N's confusion must have been extremely visible, because Sun faltered for a moment. 

"Your end-of-day duties involve cleaning and sanitizing the daycare with me," he informed, tilting his faceplate to the side slightly. The exhaustion from interacting with people all day tickled the back of her mind, but she quickly shoved it aside as Kat's words about her needing interaction echoed in her mind. 

"O-Okay," she stuttered, standing from the office chair and making her way around the desk to join the solar animatronic.

Despite being a fairly large space, the duties of cleaning the play area weren't as daunting as one might think. The ballpit had a special mechanism that allowed all of the colorful plastic orbs to fall through an invisible hatch that could only be opened with a swipe of Y/N's keycard. Apparently, there was a large area beneath the daycare that would sanitize the balls before sending them back through a hidden tube to refill. The plushies and pillows that filled a tent at the far side of the bright space would be sprayed with a disinfectant that hid underneath the security desk. Y/N supposed the hardest task was actually vacuuming the mats - but given that there were multiple vacuum units in the supply closet and two people to split the daycare floor, it went by rather quickly.

Neither Sun nor Y/N spoke much besides clarifying questions and little corrections in cleaning methods. It would be a comfortable silence had the endless loop of the silly daycare theme not been blaring overhead still. Y/N made a mental note about asking Max if it could be shut off once all the kids were gone. 

But she realized after a while that although she was cleaning in silence, Sun had actually been mumbling to himself. Between variations of the cleanup song he sang earlier to the children and comments about how messy things were - it almost sounded as though he was talking to himself. It was odd to hear at first, but it only reminded Y/N of the way she would do the same thing when going about her usual chores at home.

By the time the two had finished cleaning, Y/N's feet hurt. But something buzzed through her body as she looked at the clean space, proud of the hard work. The ache in her muscles wasn't too far off from the same feeling she got after getting all of her garden beds ready at the start of a new season.

"You did amazing, new friend!" Sun praised, throwing his hands above his head. He followed closely behind Y/N as she made her way back to the security desk. "The routine went by so much faster with your help!"

"Oh, I'm sure it wasn't that much faster," Y/N responded, rounding the edge of the desk to collect her stuff. "So there's nothing else I've gotta do now?" Sun's rays shrank back a bit.

"Well, not exactly," he said slowly. Y/N looked up at him, a little surprised by the hesitance in his voice. One of her eyebrows quirked up to urge him to continue. His fingers smoothed over the ribbons on his wrists as he stared on - unblinking white eyes giving away no emotion to the thoughts running through his mind. "N-Nevermind," he said suddenly, placing his hands on the desk with a tap.

Y/N couldn't help her lingering stare before she turned her attention to the monitor so she could clock out. She was tired, but for once it was a good tired. Sun followed at her heels after she collected her belongings and walked to the entrance. It made her think of the way Rosalie was following him around earlier. 

"Friend?" Sun said quietly as Y/N reached the large wooden doors. She turned to face him.

"Yeah?"

He once again fiddled with the ribbons on his wrist, but she still couldn't tell what he was thinking. It only intrigued her more. "Make sure to get a good rest in before you come back tomorrow!" he said in a chipper voice, dropping his hands and subsequently his anxious fidgeting. Y/N sighed, plastering a lazy grin on her face.

"You too, friend," she said, mirroring his nickname for her as she slipped through the doors - completely missing the way Sun's rays rotated around his head a few times as he processed her words.

Y/N's stomach growled as she entered the main entrance of the PizzaPlex. Excited voices drifted up to her ears as children and their parents lined up to get their own wristbands - the variation in color depicting where they were allowed to go. She descended a flight of stairs and contemplated getting something to eat here before she went home. The smell of pizza was extremely tempting.

She let it win - sliding past the people in line to swipe her badge and enter the main area of the plex in search of the greasy, triangle-shaped treat. When was the last time she indulged in unhealthy food just because she could?

It didn't take long for her to spot one of the areas advertising food. It was actually getting to it that was proving to be time-consuming. There were so many people rushing about as the last concert of the night was preparing to run. Y/N let her thoughts drift back through her day as she dodged and weaved through hyper children and eerie staff bots that she swore stared at her a little longer than usual. 

Sun certainly was... something. She could get used to working with him easily - his demeanor was warm and inviting, and her fascination with his programming would surely keep her entertained. She wondered how long he had been in use, once again flitting over the question as to why his programming hadn't been utilized with any of the other animatronics. 

Y/N let out a shocked squeak as her shoulder connected with someone else. A frantic apology escaped her lips as she looked up and locked eyes with Max.

"Oh, it's you. Sorry, was distracted," he said, glancing back in the direction he was heading in. He certainly looked distracted. And tired. Being closer to him than she had earlier, Y/N took note of the dark stubble growing on his chin and baggy circles beneath his eyes. He smelled faintly of cigarette smoke, but so did a lot of other people. And he at least did a good job of covering it up with a light cologne. 

His eyes snapped back to Y/N suddenly and he gave a halfhearted smile. "How was the first day? The thing didn't give you too much trouble, did it?"

"Wha- Sun? No, not at all," she responded quickly. "He was actually somewhat delightful," she added, thinking of how soft he had been with the children.

Max's gaze lingered on her as the silence between them stretched awkwardly. Then he hummed, but he didn't say anything more. So Y/N spoke up again. "I hope whatever was so urgent earlier went over well?"

The way Max's eyebrows furrowed confusedly made her second guess her statement. But then recognition glinted in his eyes and he chuckled. "Oh, yeah! Was fine, fine..." He paused. "Just something stupid - easy fix."

Y/N felt her heart start to hammer in her chest as anxiety lulled through her body. She hated small talk. 

"Well anyways, I've still got some stuff to take care of," he said, much to Y/N's relief. "I'll try to stop by tomorrow to make sure you know the last of your responsibilities with this job."

"Sure, okay," she responded, trying not to sound desperate to get away from him. He turned to leave, calling out over his shoulder as he walked away.

"And tell Kat I said hi."

*****

The pizza was exactly as Y/N thought it would be - greasy and bland. 

She still happily snacked on it during her drive back home, steadily bobbing her head to the beat of her favorite song. She couldn't wait to lounge around in her sweatshirt and shorts again.

When she walked through the front door, though, she was immediately bombarded with questions about her first day. Kat had come over with sorbet from her favorite place to celebrate her having landed the job and surviving her first shift. Y/N's mother was almost in tears from being proud - much to Y/N's dismay.

She knew it was all an act.

But she allowed herself to play along. She was proud of herself, after all. The last time she attempted to get herself out there in the world, she had chickened out before she even made it to the building. 

And here she was, with a new job and not a single anxiety or panic attack in sight.

After answering her parents questions and accepting their hugs, the two best friends retreated up to Y/N's room.

"And how's the animatronic? His name's Sundrop, right?" Kat asked Y/N, taking her usual place sitting on the daybed with her legs folded beneath her.

"I think it's just Sun. But he's absolutely amazing, Kat! You should've seen it!" She sat down at her desk, distractedly swirling her spoon around in the last bits of her mango sorbet. "I'm so curious about all of the programs that had to be written for him. He's got to have thousands."

"You're such a dweeb," Kat responded, grabbing the stuffed animal nearest to her on the bed and snuggling it.

"Probably," Y/N responded after throwing the now-empty sorbet cup away in the small trash can under her desk. Her hands wandered to the drawer on the desk - pulling out one of the notebooks and flipping to an empty page. She had to get started on her fall garden before the temps started to drop, so she went through and listed the things she really wanted to grow. "But he's just so soft with the children. I didn't expect a robot made of something so dense and virtually indestructible to be so... caring."

"It's all in the programming, you goober." Kat shifted to lie down. "Speaking of, have you figured out what you want to do for your project yet?"

A soft sigh emitted from Y/N. "No," she said simply, pushing the notebook away and bringing the end of the pencil to her mouth. "I just want it to be something that's never been done before. Something... original."

Kat laughed. Y/N was sure she meant nothing negative by it, but she couldn't help the embarrassed hurt that settled in the pit of her stomach. "There's nothing original these days," Kat said. "Don't stress it too much - I don't want to have to coax you out of another panic attack the day before it's due."

"Yeah, I guess so..."

The rest of the evening was spent watching the first few episodes of an anime Y/N had promised Kat she would indulge in with her. But her mind wandered back to schoolwork.

She had absolutely no idea what she would create for the project. She wondered if maybe she could figure something out with building a small robot that could perform basic tasks like bringing objects to its owner or recognizing shapes and colors. But all of that felt far too basic. 

Here she was with the opportunity to show her worth - and she couldn't even come up with a single idea.

With one more hug and a last congratulations on her landing the job - Kat left for the night. Y/N wandered back up to her room and focused on planning out her fall garden before switching over to her homework for the evening. After a while, she grew restless as she thought about going back to the plex the next day.

Y/N had barely spent a few hours with the solar animatronic and she was already looking forward to seeing him again. She was so eager to know more about him and how he worked - from the programs and protocols he had to the personality traits he could mimic. She thought about the interactions Sun had with the children again and how gentle he had been. 

God, she wasn't normal.

Long after the sun had set and she had grown tired, Y/N finally began her bedtime routine. She hoped Sun would be able to answer her questions about his programming tomorrow. And if he couldn't, she would just ask Max herself and see what he knew.

******

A/N: So! How are we feeling about the first chapter?? I've been so excited to show you guys!!! I hope it met your expectations and that it was a far better show of my actual writing talent hahah

Remember, my Tumblr asks are OPEN for the characters of this story! So if you'd like to ask any of the main characters some questions, feel free!

Anyways, as always, likes, comments, kudos, and reblogs are GREATLY appreciated!

Stay sweet, my lovelies~!

The taglist peeps! @senyahgirl @rose-blot @sunyandmony (message me or comment to be added!)

[no-higher-thought]

said you wanted to talk about 2bhank on your last post... well i'm all ears.

oo Wait fr ??

Oh my goodness gracious youve no idea what you just released anon FUCK you for making me write all this down /lh

Very unorganised thoughts cause i had like 12 pages worth of ramblings in my notes and had to cut it down. It was borderline just nonsense, man. Im losing it. Sorry if words don't make sense.

First off, they can and have hurt eachother. Hard not to, in a world as fucked up as theirs. Hank is someone who only knows violence, and doc is far too used to manipulating people and circumstances to gain the upper hand. In combat, in business deals, sieges, all that jazz.

But honestly, considering everything ? Their relationship is definitely among the healthiest, most stable in all of Nevada. Mostly cause the bar is all the way in The Nowhere but. y'know.

Both see it as VERY transactional, which, i mean. It is, first and foremost, a business deal so like. Fair i suppose. Hank is very good at their job of killing, and doc is very good at pointing them at nice targets. A sort of  "ah shit they didn't slam the door this time guess i gotta be extra careful pulling all the shrapnel out of their abdominal cavity."

There was never any moment one could consider "feelings realization" or whatever. They're simply incredibly close as a result of just how LONG they've worked together. Neither is particularly keen on asking somethn like "what are we to eachother?" Because it just. Doesn't. Matter to them.

That and like. I am very aroace. Hank is canon aroace. Saw doc fanart with ace ring once and have been rotating it in my brain since. Big fan of non-traditional relationships, man.

It's mostly convenience, methinks. Hank may not need doc to bring them back to life, but it sure does make the process a lot shorter and less painful. Doc doesn't need hank, he has plenty of money and access to many of Nevada's most feared mercenaries. He could find someone else to do his dirty work, if need be.

And yet.

Every moment they spend together is a moment of putting their life in the other's hands. Hank trusts him not to staple their legs on backwards, and doc trusts them to not dome him the moment he turns around. Don't get me wrong, it's not trust in the other, no. It's trusting that the other isn't dumb enough to get rid of a valuable asset.

But frankly, to someone used to nothing but pain and violence, a simple lack of it might as well be a loving embrace.

Theirs is a relationship built off of many years of contracts, of shared goals, of depending on eachother, expecting the other to catch them when they fall. When they crawl back battered and bloodied. When they pass out from overworking in front of their computer for the upteenth time this week.

They'd share a bed simply because both have horrific waking nightmares and huddling together on a shitty moldy mattress helps. A net positive, mutualism. They might seek some affection from the other, but its always self-serving.

Still. Neither of them are sentimental. If the machine took them on different paths, or hell, if they had to kill the other (for one reason or another), i don't think either of them would mourn.

Simply fill their time with the next mission at hand.

Doc could kill hank. They've been under his knife often enough. It wouldn't stick, sure, but he's very much capable of sending them back to the Other place, at least once.

Hank could absolutely kill doc. There's very little stopping them. All it would take is a single hand around his neck and one good squeeze.

But they don't.

They don't, and neither does he. Because at the end of the day, both of them benefit more when the other is alive.

Mutualism.

... Anyways uh hank is a cuddler. With how fucked up their nerves must be, i bet most of their sense of touch is straight up just pain. Which would be be a bigger deal, except. Doc has access to heavy-duty painkillers. How can you not, in some odd way, love the guy that makes the pain go away, even for a bit ?

[cdroloisms]

I think Dream in prison was always going to go poorly because it would require Sam to be as infallible as Pandora's Vault itself, and he's not. He has way too much personal stake in what Dream is doing, and in trying to force himself to be an emotionless machine that abides only the protocol he became a hypocritical wreck that only indulged his vindictive emotions and spiraled out of control trying to keep the situation steady. That's not even addressing how keeping someone in the prison would never be ethical because it's a psychological torture box designed by the psychological torture guy

I mean, I can see the argument that it would've been hard to like. Not make Pandora's Vault unethical, considering the size of the server and the fact that he was the only prisoner etc leading to a situation where yeah, he would've been left alone for long stretches of time no matter what, solitary was kinda inevitable, etc. Like I can see an argument for that. But on principle I feel like the influence that protocol had on the prison arc and on c!Sam specifically tends to be heavily overstated...because a significant portion of the prison arc, honestly, is making the point that the protocol was entirely based on what c!Sam determined.

Like, sure, the prison was always going to suck. c!Dream was never going to come out from it entirely unscathed. But there's a huge fucking difference between what he was prepared for (isolation + shitty food for an unspecified amount of time) and what situation he ended up in (his life at the mercy of two people that showed absolutely no damn qualms about literally torturing him). I think it's very fair to say that yeah, c!Sam was far from an unbiased party, and he was very much emotionally affected to his detriment during the prison arc. But...ultimately? I feel like we really don't see c!Sam struggling to maintain protocol over the course of months only to slowly break down. I don't think we see him "snap" and "lose control." necessarily, in the way that people often act is the case. (The strongest argument, in my opinion, in favor of c!Sam being greatly affected by some stressor that then has him turn to extreme cruelty has little to nothing to do with the prison itself and more to do with his brief stint with the Egg, but with so little attention drawn to that as a cause in the story of the prison itself, I feel like this mostly remains in the realm of speculation.)

Like, if we look at the facts, c!Sam's behavior day one was already weirding people out. Day one and c!Dream is already throwing himself in lava and c!Sam does not seem to give a damn. Of course, both of their behaviors had a myriad of reasons behind them, but it's important to note that there's like literally never been a single moment in the prison arc where c!Sam hasn't been, like, off.

We never see any of c!Ranboo's actual prison visits, but we know these happened very very early in c!Dream's imprisonment and that they were terminated quite early as well, once c!Sam discovered c!Ranboo writing in ender in the prison contracts. However, considering how the inside of the prison was the same between his dream and the real world, it is reasonable to say that c!Sam's behavior in the dream could've also been taken from reality, and "he knows what happens [when he disobeys]" is a hell of a statement to make.

c!Bad's prison visit is when things seem to be seriously off. Even if you consider c!Dream's behavior in this stream as entirely an act, c!Sam is noticeably tense after the prison visit and very demanding about what c!Dream said once c!Bad leaves the cell. c!Dream commenting on food being withheld is consistent with what we know happened in the prison arc later on. c!Sam says that c!Dream has been tossing himself in lava for attention. Several comments are made about "behaving" and "behavior," c!Sam is looking into the installation of an automatic feeder, and visitation is facing restrictions.

Pretty crucially, we see that c!Sam is very comfortable with making changes to the prison. Major changes to the prison, even. Installing an automatic feeder isn't exactly an easy process? And it obviously wasn't outlined in any kind of preexisting protocol. But c!Sam is perfectly willing to change this, just as he's perfectly willing to make all kinds of rules on visitation and limiting visitation because of c!Dream's behavior, etc, (which can reasonably be inferred as not being preexisting rules because that would mean that c!Dream, who allegedly helped with the creation of all of these rules, would be intentionally sabotaging his chances of visitation...when he very evidently wanted people to visit? like sorry but that doesn't make any sense) because he's the Warden and therefore the sole authority of Pandora's Vault and allowed to do literally anything he damn well pleases.

Further, sure, c!Dream might be acting in all the prison visits. Sure, he might be acting In General during this time, etc. But despite disobedience (disobedience with the explicit expressed purpose of trying to get c!Sam to spend more time with him...?) I would hardly characterize almost anything he does during these early days as being anything for c!Sam to be reasonably vindictive over. Even if you consider hopping into the lava (something c!Sam could've solved literally as easily as just raising the netherite barrier), tossing the clock into the lava (also preventable if c!Dream can't access the fucking lava????), and a couple alleged escape attempts (the only one that we know of being him trying to use the lectern to create a nether portal, something hardly easy to do and an attempt that c!Sam very evidently put down quite easily)--like. I can understand him being angry because of what c!Dream had done in the past, and obviously being angry because of c!Dream telling him about exile, but c!Dream early on in the prison arc hardly behaves badly. (Not that bad behavior would justify abuse, but you know.)

By the time of c!Sapnap's prison visit, c!Dream isn't the only one acting weird. c!Sam is strange in ways that are never fully explained and uh heavily imply shady shit??? He's not abiding by protocol when he suddenly interrupts the process of helping a visitor out of the prison by forcing c!Sapnap to respawn in order to check on c!Dream for Some Reason. He's once again very persistent about the question of whether or not c!Dream "said anything" and then reacts strangely when c!Sapnap was able to get him to say a word. He's replaced like a quarter of the obsidian in the cell with crying obsidian, which again, is an instance of c!Sam making BIG changes to the prison without protocol or anything dictating his actions. At most you can maybe make the argument that he's being moved by the spirit of the protocol, that being security should be prioritized over everything (hence potatoes instead of steak, hence no courtyard, hence--in this case--crying obsidian to make the escape attempt ineffective) but it's clearly nothing that they explicitly wrote down.

Also, around this time (I forget the exact date) he explicitly bans c!Ranboo from visiting. Also something we can reasonably assume isn't something that was included in any protocol that c!Dream wrote considering his uh, vested interests in continuing to have an informant.

c!Tommy's visit and that ensuing debacle, of course, is one of the first times we see c!Sam clearly, explicitly acting AGAINST the protocol that was established. The protocol outlines that c!Tommy should have stayed in there for at most a week, and c!Sam explicitly denies him from leaving when the time comes??? Even if you argue that he's doing it "for security", he's doing it in a manner that is going directly against the letter of the law of the protocol that he created with c!Dream. This is a clear demonstration that c!Sam sees himself, and acts as if he is above the law of Pandora's Vault, because, of course, he is the law. He is the Sole Authority. He is the Warden, and he answers to no one but himself. c!Tommy's death obviously ensues in quite the emotional fallout for him, and wanting revenge on c!Dream for this matter motivates his actions later on in the arc...but it's important to consider that mistreatment beyond the scope of what c!Dream expected long preceded this point. c!Sam, immediately after c!Tommy dies, describes himself as thinking that c!Dream's will was too broken to do anything like that. Describes himself as having punished c!Dream in every manner that he could think of. He doesn't go in to feed c!Dream for WEEKS after c!Tommy's death, directly leading to c!Tommy himself being isolated and starved post-revival. He bans visitation. All of these matters hardly seem like matters that c!Dream would have included in the prison protocol that he created when he was planning to be put in that prison, where he specifically had a vested interest in keeping himself (and the book) safe + having, like, FOOD + being able to have visitors in a safe manner + NOT being abused?

And even if we dismiss all of this as c!Sam acting in the best interests of security because c!Dream told him that the security of the prison is more important than anything else (which, even though we know that c!Dream did have this perspective to some degree, still doesn't eliminate c!Sam's responsibility as the one carrying out the existing protocol and making all of these Big Decisions and Big Changes etc to the prison) -- the decision to let c!Quackity into the prison stomps on all of that. That decision completely goes against not only the letter of the damn law that they established together, but the spirit of what the prison was ever meant to be in the first place. He compromises the security of the prisoner and the prison on the DAILY by letting in someone in full gear! With items! And plays a game with chance with c!Dream's life (and the revive book) every damn day. He hardly had enough of a system in place to keep c!Quackity from taking c!Dream's life, and he was certainly unable to stop c!Quackity from landing what would've been a killing blow on c!Techno before he got tp-ed out, like. He completely fucks over EVERYTHING that Pandora's Vault was meant to be, and that was...entirely his decision. Sure, c!Quackity manipulated him, true, but he was not beholden by any protocol or any element of his duty when he made this choice.

This isn't to say that c!Sam wasn't very much emotionally affected and making clouded judgements--he was! Especially if you factor in the stress of other events such as the Egg, etc. But I hesitate to ascribe any element of c!Sam's...c!Samness in the prison arc as him "cracking under the pressure," so to speak. The implications of mistreatment just start too early and are too calculated for me to say that he was simply reacting badly to stressors. I think he was absolutely trying his best to keep the situation "steady," in a sense, but keeping it steady never meant simply being an emotionless guardian to an impenetrable prison who couldn't cope as everything began piling up--keeping things steady, as early as that first month, meant breaking c!Dream into something docile. That was intentional. That was something he was making an active effort to do. Nor do I think that the claim that c!Sam was simply abiding by protocol holds any water, as I outline above: c!Sam has always acted above the protocol established in the prison to the point where even from the first time we see him acting as Warden during that first damn questionaire a specific point is made that he is the ultimate authority on the grounds of the Vault and his word is law. He acted within protocol when convenient to him and trampled over it when convenient to him, and I feel that people can overemphasize the role that protocol played in the decisions he made the same way that he himself did when he was shifting the blame of his own abusive actions onto c!Dream when he had the power, and always had the power, to amend the protocol established in any way he damn well pleased.

Of course, this isn't to say that the protocol was good. It, uh, wasn't--and plenty of people have criticized c!Dream for them even though the prison, as it ended up being used for his plans, was never anything more than a place for him to put himself because of the danger that the rest of the server presented, a base for him to hide in after the prison arc because of its security measures, and a "just-in-case" measure for them to hold their enemies if need be (which he never actually does, even when given golden opportunities to do so: inconsolable differences and the finale come to mind. Even if we're talking about his saw trap in the finale, the plan was to kill one and let the other go free (????????) while also giving them the exact items that could've easily been the keys to their escapes. after c!Tommy and c!Tubbo kill him. but I digress). But c!Sam goes so damn far beyond the protocol established by the "psychological torture guy" that he literally wasn't even beholden to when he was the Warden of the Vault on account of said guy being his prisoner. I don't really see any arguments about c!Sam's behavior having to do with him being too fallible of a man for the job he was given--he does exactly what he wants to do, how he wants to do it, using the job that gives him the power to do so. It's just that "what he wants to do" is not exactly what c!Dream had in mind when he and c!Sam were coming up with the plans for the prison and the protocol that they worked together to create because what he wants to do is, apparently, own a guy and keep him in his hell box. You know?

(i hope this didn't read too aggressively!)

[tangerinesgf]

Worse Different

Tangerine x GN!reader

Summary: after completing a mission you and Tangerine have a talk (honestly I had no idea what to do with this summary, but I promise it's good)

Tags/Warnings: fluff, first kiss, mentions of nightmares and little bit of insomnia, language, mentions of dead bodies, mostly fluff

A/N: I have no idea what this is supposed to be but i got the idea from a HC list by @lemonadetangerinejuice saying that Lemon and Tangerine would hate energy drinks. Things just sort of happened from there, but I honestly love how it turned out!

You were standing in the door of the warehouse, both of you leaning on one side of the opening. It was a fairly big door seeing as forklift trucks had to pass through it sometimes.

You and Tangerine were send out on a job to kill someone, apparently someone was not very kind with grudges. It was nothing knew, nothing the two of you couldn't handle, so you were done in less then an hour. The only thing you had to do now was get rid of him and some collateral damage.

But before you did that Tangerine said he needed a cigarette, a moment to unwind if you will.

As he put the cig between his lips he heard the opening of a can of soda. He turned around to face you, watching as you downed almost a whole can of Red Bull in one go. "You actually drink that shit?"

"Yeah.. what's it to you?"

"D'ya know how bad that is for ya?" He had never liked energy drinks, they tasted like piss and the only time he ever drank them was when he absolutely needed to, but even that barely happened.

"Did you look at what's hanging between your lips right now?" You pointed out.

"That's different." He states.

You scoff at him. "If anything it's worse different."

"At least I'm not pouring tons of sugar and who knows what else down my fuckin' throat." He accused you as he lit his cigarette, putting the lighter back into his pocket.

"Yeah well how else am I supposed to stay awake?"

"There's this thing called sleeping, love." Tangerine took another drag of his cig, slowly blowing the smoke up into the air.

"Do you sleep?"

Silence falls between the two of you. You got him. You down the rest of the drink, throwing the can in the trashcan behind you.

"That's what I thought. I don't need you judging my unhealthy habits while you're still smoking a pack per day."

"I don't-" Tangerine starts, but before he could even finish his sentence, claiming not to smoke so much when he damn well knew he did, you cut him off by raising you eyebrow at him. This was an argument he knew he wouldn't win.

He took another drag of his cigarette before throwing it own the ground, stomping it out with his, way too fancy for this job, dress shoes.

"So what makes it that you can't sleep then, huh?"

You weren't sure where Tangerine's sudden interest in you came from. And maybe it was this moment in which the two of you stood peacefully on the dock looking out on the water or the fact that you've had a crush on the British man for a while now, but you didn't quite feel like telling him to fuck off.

"Bit of everything I guess." You didn't need to elaborate for Tangerine to understand. "You?"

Most of the people in their business dealt with the same sleeping problems. Nightmares, paranoia and insomnia were the most common ones. Though he had never seen Lemon have those problems, once his brother was down there was no waking him up. Tangerine envied that ability more often then not.

He himself was mostly plagued by nightmares these days. He can't remember a single night where he had more than 4 hours of unbroken sleep since Tokyo. Most of them ending with him waking up in cold sweat, grasping at his neck to make sure he's not bleeding out. He wouldn't even try to back to sleep after that, usually just staring out on London from his balcony, cigarette between his fingers.

He hasn't even told Lemon about it, although he's pretty sure his brother has his suspicions. However for some reason he told you.

"Mostly nightmares."

You settled into a comfortable silence, letting your thoughts take over. There wasn't really much else to say about it, it came with the job and you would just have to live with that. You knew what you signed up for.

Your eyes trailed from the water to the sky, the sun reflected onto the water as it was slowly setting. It had been raining all week so this was a welcome change.

"You ever think it would be easier if you had someone?" Tangerine's voice was unusually soft as he turned to face you again.

"If I had someone?" You gave him a skeptical look, not really understanding what he was getting at.

"Yeah, ya know like eh.. fuck-" Tangerine had never been especially good with words. You could almost hear him internally beating himself up about it.

"Hey, what is it?" You stood up straight from leaning against the door and made your way over to him.

"Never mind, 's stupid."

"You can tell me." At that he finally looked at you. There was this vulnerability in his eyes, you'd never seen before.

"Don't you ever feel lonely?"

You were taken aback a little bit. The two of you talked about a lot of things, but never about your feelings.

"All the time,-" you chuckled as if it wasn't plaguing you almost every night. "-but that's the job I guess." You shrugged.

"What if you didn't have to be?"

His clear blue eyes stared directly into yours, he was dead serious but everything short of intimidating. There was this admiration in his eyes. Longing for something neither of you ever thought you could have. That's when you finally clocked it.

Oh.

Apparently it took you too long to answer as you could see his mouth moving again. It took you a few seconds to come back from your thoughts and actually understand what he was on about.

"-just forget it, 's stu-" he didn't have time to finish as you cut him off, quite literally grabbing his face and pulling his lips onto your own. Tangerine was stunned by the sudden movement and before he could kiss you back you had already broken it off again.

For a second you were both just standing there, staring at one another. Then a slight smile appeared on Tangerine's face, the first genuine one you had ever seen on him, bringing forth your own.

This time it was Tangerine who closed the distance, cupping your face as he brought your lips together again. Your arms wrap around his neck as his tongue made his way into your mouth. His lips tasted like a mix of nicotine and the blood from his earlier split lip. This combined with the strong smell of his cologne made you addicted to him in less then a second.

The kiss was hungry but gentle as you explored each other's mouths for the first time, that same confidence he always wore carried over into the way he kissed you. You could tell he had been wanting to do this for a long time, but then again so had you.

The kiss had felt way too short when Tangerine already started to pull away. He didn't let go of your face as he looked into your eyes, smirk plastered onto his face.

You leaned forward with the intention to kiss him again, needing more from him. But as you leaned in his hand left your cheek and covered your mouth. You looked up at him in confusion.

"As much as I loved kissing you, I'm not doin' it again until you wash that disgusting taste of Red Bull out of your mouth, love."

With that he turned back to the warehouse, leaving you outside with a defeated look on your face.

"Chop chop, we got bodies to dispose of."

Finally you followed him back into the warehouse. As you were bagging up the mangled bodies you couldn't help but wanting to go home as fast as possible. You'd brush your teeth for an hour if you had to, just to taste him again.

A/N: I would love to know what you thought, really keeps my motivation up!! Also reblogs are super appreciated <3

Taglist: @nocturnest @waiting4ff @venusthepirate @megumisbabymomma @bratdoll666 @assmaster37 @kpopgirlbtssvt @dontknownameauthor @earth-elemental18 @ilovetangerinewithallmyheart @sisterslytherinog @wrendermeuseless @thirstyfortangerine (Lemme know if you wanna be added or removed)

[silverstudios]

Delivery (Single parent sitcom au)

The first glimpse into the single parent au me and @secret-spirit have been working on! Enjoy :D

It purred quietly as it trotted across the grass and then into the stone of its cave, its chest full and warm and only a little squirming now. The trip back to the cave from the town had taken a bit longer than it cared to admit, but well- it supposes that’s what happens when you have 6 squirming, struggling little ones within….and a slash across your side. 

It winced slightly at the thought, the wound bristling and painful, stupid humans fighting back- stupid humans taking winfrey- but it has a costume to keep it clean, and now it has 6 small bodies worth of biomass to help it heal up…and a couple of souls and minds to keep. 

Its back arched, tail pointed directly up- the tip reaching the high ceiling with a satisfying click- and spines twitched before it dropped itself, chest first, into the pile of leaves and moss and ... .what are these called again-? Blankets, yes the word is blankets. Leaves and moss and blankets….all of which made a nest meant for two….

The little ones within- those who were still mostly solid at least- made quiet grumbles and shifted, and Clyde couldn’t help but snicker. Norman- it thinks at least that’s the boy's name- was still struggling. It was honestly impressive- he was the oldest and largest of the bunch, perhaps that’s how he’s still fighting…but even so, it can feel that he's slowing down, getting tired, losing shape…

It shifted, an arm wrapped around its shoulders, chest and back, round and round and round- a little hug for itself and them- and let itself go limp against the nest- curled up in a ball to keep itself warm. 

….the nest felt so ....big, and exposed, without winfrey here…It missed hearing their hums and feeling the gentle thumps of its heart as they lay curled around it- it missed the cuddles, and the warmth and...it missed them….

….it smiled slightly as it’s chest sat heavy and warm- and still. Finally settled…It closed its eyes and sighed, tension leaving and left behind a veldigun flat against its nest…

Leaving its body to heal and reform and recreate, it’s goop building up around pestering wounds and stitching together torn flesh…

…

…

…

It grumbled, eyes opening slowly, blinking and groggy….the pestering wound was gone, but now something else was wrong. It’s chest…hurt? No, not hurt…hollow? It shifted, and head tilted as its costume hung wrong around its chest. Instead of sticking to it like before, it hung limp and heavy against the nest- an air gap between it’s flesh and the secondary skin it had claimed for itself…

It shifted, fingers getting hold of the zipper and pulling it, a loud ziiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiip echoing out of the cave- followed by six different splates and a chorus of tiny complaining chirps and squeaks. 

It froze, staring down at the six little shifting lumps…it lowered itself and gently sniffed at one of them- it smelled like it….but almost had a candy smell as well, like candy corn- and it’s eyes were looking over them all. Dark, goopy, tiny mouths without any teeth and eyes basically glued shut- tiny squeaks and merps and chirps as they shifted and moved, blindly wiggling across the nest toward it. 

Did…..Did it….? Slowly, gently- as gentle as it could- it tapped the head of one of the shifting goops. It let out a tiny coo, a barely formed hand grasping at the edge of its finger as it tried to wiggle into its hand. Clyde's eyes widened, a purr raced up its throat before it could even think about why, tail swinging back and forth- chest hollow of minds and souls but felt so warm… 

It really did….

…

It paused, gently poking one of them again- strings of goop followed after its finger, and froze. They are not solid at all, barely even formed- It wouldn’t be surprised if those eyes are shut because they aren’t even functional yet, that’s how it and most of the others were when they first entered this world- and they were chilled, even just for the few moments they’ve been out of it’s chest they were already cold-

They need costumes-They need Food- Now. 

It scooped up six of them- soft, goopy, it could see where they had been in the nest as smudges and part of them were left behind on the moss and blankets- and shoved them back into its costume, zipping it up and keeping an arm wrapped around its chest to keep them in place. A hug, in a way, as it stands and moves- cursing the fact it had to run on two legs instead of all fours but it needs to keep them in place. 

A chorus of pleased sighs and chirps muffled by fabric, and little goopy bodies pushed themselves as close as possible to its flesh, snuggling up against its ribs and stomach- tiny barely formed hands grabbing hold and gripping tightly. It smiled softly and giggled at the thought that crossed it’s mind- perhaps they were trying to return to its insides, it had tried to do something similar with its own creator- the world was so big and loud and cold and bright compared to the the internals it spawned from, Clyde can only imagine they’re feeling very similar right now. 

Sadly that’s not how this world works, once outside you must remain outside and you must survive…but it wasn’t just going to leave them to fend for themselves, not like it and winfrey had needed to do- at least not yet, maybe once older and less goopy… But for now, it will fend for them, starting with something to keep them warm and keep them solid. 

With any luck- that one costume ship should still be in the same place, and should still have a broken lock…and then it can worry about getting these six little veldiguns-....veldilings? Maybe, it’ll think about the terms later- after getting secondary skins it can worry about getting food into these little ones...Maybe small rodents, yeah they should be able to swallow those whole…

….

It’s nest won’t feel so empty anymore it seems….

[halfa-ghost]

guys I wrote a little.... fic for side hoes week

DISCLAIMER! this is the first fic I have ever written, please be nice to it and constructive criticism is greatly appreciated

Summary: Super Danny is tasked to find a hobby after getting some free time.

The morning was quiet, peaceful, and honestly? Boring. Super Danny had made sure of it. He'd spent the last three days cleaning up all the ghosts haunting Amity Park. This was not a hasty assumption to make, he'd spent most of the third day just… looking around. He didn't sense a single harmful ghost in the entire city.

This was a great success for him! He just finally had enough free time to handle the ghost problem for a while. At least, until more ghosts eventually started coming through the portal. So, why did he feel so… empty?

He supposed he was finished with his job. Fun Danny must be done studying for his Algebra test by now, the reason he had split himself this time around, so he figured it was time to fuse back together.

He flew towards Fentonworks, scanning the streets for any ghosts, he knew it was pointless. He did it anyway. The morning wind was cool, it filled his lungs. He wasn't sure it needed to, breathing was mostly habit at this point. He rarely thought about how he was truly a pure ghost in this form, he didn't really feel any different. That would be a subject for another day.

He phased into his bedroom and landed with a soft thump. He turned around to see Fun Danny actually studying at- he checked the clock sitting on his desk- eight in the morning! On a Saturday! Fun Danny looked up at him and Super gave him a soft smile, he was proud of him for showing a good work ethic! Fun did not return it.

“What do you want?”

It was then he remembered why he came here in the first place. He figured Fun would be done studying by now.

“I thought you'd be finished by now, but I suppose that you aren’t.” The second the last word left his mouth, he realized how rude that may have come off.

“I'm doing the best I can, dude! Do you know how hard it was for me to actually wake up at this hour? On a Saturday??”

That was the Fun Danny he knew. He quickly waved his arms in front of him and shook his head.

“I apologize for sounding dissatisfied! I understand that this must be hard for you. I just… didn't have anything else to do because I finished catching all of the ghastly ghouls in town.”

Fun Danny’s eyes widened. “What? Already?”

Super nodded slowly. “Now I suppose I have no purpose.”

“I think-” Fun Danny turned in his swivel chair and pointed the pencil in his hand at Super. “-you need to get a hobby.”

“A hobby? The only hobby I have is protecting the helpless humans of Amity Park!” He raised his finger and a gust of wind from God knows where flowed through his hair and cape.

Fun Danny rolled his eyes. “That's not a hobby, that's your job.”

Super pondered for a moment. Was it wrong to enjoy your job?

He was pulled out of his thoughts when Fun Danny started again. “You have some free time. Go enjoy your weekend. At least one of us should be able to.” He turned towards the papers in front of him, and sighed dramatically. 

“How does one get a hobby?”

Fun didn't look up as he scribbled something down. “I don't know, dude, just wander around until you find something, I guess.”

That didn't seem efficient. But, enjoying yourself was Fun Danny’s speciality. That's where he got his name from! Sam and Tucker continuously calling him “the fun Danny” eventually stuck. “Super Danny” was coined to match it. So, he must have known what he was talking about. 

“Well I… suppose I will.” He nodded towards Fun and phased out of the room again, dropping his boots on the sidewalk. A woman on a morning jog gaped at him as she ran past, he knew it wasn't normal to see Danny Phantom just standing across the street from you. 

He tightened his cape around his neck and began to walk. He didn't know where. According to Fun Danny, he would “discover” something eventually.

He drew quite a few stares from the early-risers of Amity Park. Nobody interacted with him, though. They all just watched him from a distance. He didn't take offense. He knew this must be a strange experience for them, to see their spirited superhero taking a casual stroll.

He continued until he saw a young boy ahead of him, crying as he looked into the sky. He followed his gaze, spotting a bright red balloon flying into the sky.

He quickly pushed into the sky, his cape flowing behind him as he quickly grabbed the string of the balloon, delicately holding it in front of the boy.

The boy looked up at him in awe for a moment, his tearful eyes wide. He hesitated for a moment before carefully taking the balloon out of Super’s gloved hand.

“Thank you, sir!”

“You are welcome citizen!” Another gust of wind punctuated his assertion.

He nodded at the boy, and he happily walked away, balloon in hand.

Super Danny couldn't stop himself from smiling. His core thrummed, he felt giddy. This was all he needed.

It was then Super realized. He doesn't need to be punching ghosts and saving lives to be heroic, and it can absolutely be his “hobby.”

He continued his walk, hoping to run into an old lady who needed to cross the street, or maybe a cat stuck in a tree. It was cliché, but he could admit that cliché was his entire thing.

He wore a cape for crying out loud. 

[captain-mj]

WEREBEAR KÖNIG, WEREBEAR KÖNIG, WEREBEAR KÖNIG

First of all thank you for indulging my König x Ghost brainworms. SECOND, I loved it. The implication that König has been heavily collared and probably controlled in the past. *Mwah* good shit. Ghost going feral when he shifts? I need to know more! König and Ghost fully shifted encounter when? I think their dynamic here has a lot of potential.

If you are up for another part I will stay away from your teeth for now, but they are on thin ice.

I’ve thought about this more and I’m prepared!!

Part 1

König was cautious for a while. Being stripped of his mask by Ghost had caught him off guard. He felt weird about it. Not quite as angry as he should be honestly. More just... flustered and embarrassed. Ghost had immediately looked at his scars.

König had at one point started to consider himself handsome. It took him ages honestly, he had just joined the army and bulked up a little instead of being as skinny as a twig. Finally eating properly probably helped.

Then the scars happened. The ones across his face at the very least came from the battlefield. While he definitely thought they were ugly, hideous, nothing like Horangi's or Stilleto's, he didn't hate them quite as much as the ones around his throat. Shame filled him.

He honestly wanted to head back to KorTac. This was only temporary after all, but he needed to stay a bit longer. They were partnering with SpecGru for the time being which means he had to be here... With the angry, scary.... kinda hot lieutenant.

König blushed, wondering where that came. Yes, Ghost was tall. Not König height, but tall enough that he didn't feel like he had to back up and look down to speak to him. Ghost was also so commanding. Broad shouldered and willing to put whoever and whatever in their place. It was admirable. König wished he had that confidence.

One thing they had in common though was the unearthly silence they both had. With Ghost, it felt right. He was The Ghost. A Specter more than a Man. When König snuck up on his teammates or appeared out of nowhere, it was creepy. Off-putting. Where Ghost could lean in that, his whole persona hinging on it, König couldn't. Instead he just freaked people out and got called out for sneaking up on them.

König did not like training very much, Yes, he was well aware he needed to and he did regularly, but he didn't like it. And today, something in the air felt wrong.

He told himself it was just his anxiety again, but it didn't feel like he was being stared at. The air itself had a charge to it. König hesitated and considered just leaving. If anyone asked him why he was leaving before touching a single machine, he'd claim he suddenly remembered a meeting he had to go to. Yeah. That made sense. He could...

Ghost moved to spar. The hoodie he wore over his clothing fell to the floor with a thump, leaving him in an short sleeved shirt. König didn't recognize the other person, so not 141 and not KorTac. Maybe some recruit? Or another person like him from a different group? He didn't know.

They sized each other up. The other person looked very, very determined, but that was how most people looked when sparring with Ghost. König wasn't sure why because Ghost was willing to spar anyone if asked. Just no one was brave enough to ask half the time.

"Need me to go easy on you? Don't really learn if its just me tossing you around." Anyone else and König would've rolled his eyes and chalked it up to him being cocky. But with Ghost, it was just true. He was extremely adept at fighting and sparring was pointless if it was just getting your ass handed to you.

König decided to watch. As did half the room.

"For the first round. Need to warm up." Their voice was deep. König tried to guess his accent, but nothing really came to mind.

They were off. The stranger mostly went with quick jabs and tried their best to avoid Ghost. It wasn't the worst strategy, but Ghost had an impressive amount of stamina for his size, so it wasn't the most effective either.

König noticed someone recording and he thought that was odd. Some people recorded their workouts but this was sparring and it didn’t seem like Ghost to allow it. He shrugged it off. What was the saying? Not my circus, not my monkeys?

Ghost took the person down and they bounced right back up. “How did you do that exactly?”

König crossed his arms. Were they… flirting? Gross. Ghost didn’t pick up on it, instead actually instructing them on exactly how.

König noticed seconds before Ghost did.

The recruit grabbed the back of his mask and yanked.

There was a list of reasons this was bad. Besides the fact that Ghost had broken someone’s arm for touching him before (he insisted it was an accident but didn’t apologize) and could be downright evil in his cruelty with people he interrogated, it was also just mean. Why would someone want to do that? Ghost could be a hardass but never without reason. He was never mean without reason. He was cold and distant but König had a feeling that had little to do with his actual personality.

Of course every one was curious about his face. No one got to see it.

Before the cloth had moved an inch, Ghost shredded his clothing with his shift. People started screaming and fleeing, most of them having intimate knowledge of the fact that Wolf Ghost and Human Ghost were very different creatures.

König decided to stop this before there was a casualty. If he took a second to walk forward, he’d blame it on surprise.

The stranger currently had one of the ropes of the arena in front of them as Ghost frantically tried to get to them through it. Ghost hadn’t had time to think, to busy trying to go right for the throat.

König slammed into his side, sending him skidding across the floor. He stood up and quickly realized his mistake.

Ghost was big. It made sense. Big human equals big animal. But he looked more like the direwolves his omi would tell him than the wolves he had seen on missions.

Ghost had intense black fur and he stalked around König, snarling. But König didn’t think he looked angry. No, he looked scared. It made sense. Wolves were not supposed to be alone and not only did Ghost probably feel alone, this person had just cruelly tricked him.

“Simon.” König tried to reason. Someone was yelling about tranquilizers and he immediately grimaced. “No, just all of you leave.”

Ghost threw himself at König, teeth bared. König quickly tried to dodge, watching those giant dripping fangs almost graze him. He panted softly, backing up.

Ghost stalked forward, standing defensively when König simply stepped forward as well. He knew if he shifted, he could more easily pin Ghost down BUT an equal amount of pettiness for getting yelled at and worry they’d both end up tranqued and with giant headaches later kept him from doing so.

König snapped his fingers and Ghost’s attention fell on his hand. He spoke calmly to the stranger. “Go. Quietly. But keep close by. I’m sure Captain Price will be happy to hear of this.” The confidence he usually got on missions kept him steady.

Ghost glared at him. Bright brown eyes That struck fear into people’s hearts. That appeared from the shadows and dragged the soul to the ferryman personally.

Right now, he looked like a nervous puppy.

König softened a tad, now that everyone was gone he took off his hood slowly and then his jacket, glad he went with a zip up one. They had the room and no one else would come in until one of them gave the all clear. Its why they paired them up.

“You’re not feral.” He spoke softly. “Just spooked. Like a horse. Shifting has never been pleasant for you, has it?”

If Ghost could understand him was still up for debate. But clearly something agitated him because he was trying to get to König’s throat again. Killing bite, fast and efficient.

König finally shifted and they wrestled with each other. He knew normally, Ghost could beat his ass. Hell, if he was a bit more sound, he probably could with both of them shifted. But as is, Ghost couldn’t strategize and König could. Its how he ended up with Ghost on his back, König’s teeth around his throat, careful not to sink in, and his paw on Ghost’s surprisingly soft feeling tummy.

They sat there a while. König able to feel the pulse through his teeth.

It slowed once he realized König wasn’t killing him. He tried to wiggle away but König applied more pressure to his paw and he stilled.

Ghost melted back to a person. It was… shockingly graceful considering how he had acted. König suddenly dwarfed him. He pulled back slowly, ignoring the copious amounts of drool on Ghost’s throat.

Oh.

Ghost was pretty.

He had a strong nose, soft lips and a lot more hair than König had been expecting. It looked bleached and slightly curly, maybe wavy was better. Like König, he had scars. Glasgows along with a few on his cheek that connected to a slice on his ear. König wondered if he had been able to pay attention, if he would’ve seen the chunk from his ear in wolf form too.

Ghost stared at him. Both of them were half naked, bodies aching from unexpected shifts. Ghost also looked lost. Something soft in his eyes. König was careful not to look down, both of them remaining eye contact as is making sure neither broke that rule.

His eyes seemed to freeze over as he came back to himself. “Fucking bastard. Ill eat him alive, shifted or not.” He grimaced as he moved and König wanted to ask how long it had been. Ghost kept himself under wraps pretty well but tons of people snuck out too shift occasionally. Let out steam.

Ghost’s mask had been torn to shreds in the shift. “Fucking hell.”

König didn’t let himself think. He dropped the sniper hood over Ghost. “I had been wearing a neck gaiter in case the hood got too hot. Ill wear that.”

Ghost looked up at him and the word pitiful came to mind. König didn’t like it. “Thank you, König.” He pulled on the hoodie he had dropped before going into the ring. His pants were half shredded but he pulled those on anyway. It would have to do until they got to their room.

König also pulled on his half shredded clothing to follow him.

He wondered if Ghost would join him on a night out if he asked.

[inventors-fair]

The Penthouse: Room Contest Winners ~

Our winners this week are @an-anarchist-shapeshifter, @corporalotherbear, and @curiooftheheart!

@an-anarchist-shapeshifter — Secluded Bedroom / Dark Closet

I think this card's theoretical art direction—or I suppose, the spacework that it's purporting to show—is a phenomenal trope execution. The Dark Closet spawning a Beast is a great little Goyf relative. For limited, having that ability to "feed" on your graveyard is another delirium payoff, even if it is a single token. Even if that token goes away, I love the Bedroom's ability to pump out manifested creatures. Very powerful, of course, but at mythic, that kind of pumping is perfectly reasonable; if you somehow don't have any creatures, well, too bad for your board state. And then the Closet awakens the beast! Or whatever order you choose, yadda yadda.

But back to the flavor. I personally haven't payed too much attention to the flavor of canonical Duskmourn rooms, so it's reasonable for me to get off my high horse and actually pay attention to these. My take/feeling is that the Bedroom is the place where, by sending a creature to "rest," it's summoning the monsters from their imagination, whereas the Closet is the place where the actual monsters are, feeding on the dreams and nightmares and growing more powerful because of that. And hey, I love what you've done with it! Just make sure you add that last quotation mark to the Beast reminder text.

@corporalotherbear — Center Stage / Splash Zone

You're a disgusting performer, ain'tcha. This is supremely gross and very powerful, mostly on the Splash Zone side of things, IMO. I think that out of all the directions that Rakdos could go, having that kind of direct fiery damage is a great way to throw the viscera. I really don't know where this design first started! The idea for a Rakdos-themed room opens you up to many options, of course, but maybe the sacrifice-to-damage came first because, of course, mechanical synergies. It's hard to tell, and that's a good thing. It makes me feel that the design went through some cohesive thought processes before you settled on this choice.

Maybe it didn't and maybe having a splash zone as a room was just the best way to go about a "wouldn't this be messed up" mindset. I'm down for it! I'm also down for some very strong limited enchantments. Early draw is great for the aggro side when you're curving out to a turn-five swing having built up your board. There's a small chance that balance might lead this to six mana, but either way, that's such a small tweak for such a strong effect. I will say that I almost want to see a Ravnica that has two different guilds representing different directions now. One rooms leads to Rakdos carnage, one to Gruul tribal unity—or, one to Rakdos showmanship, the other to Orzhov austerity. Y'know? Lots of neat possibilities that this card brings out.

@curiooftheheart — Worn Nursery / Maids' Chamber

Overall, I think this card's function is kinda perfect. Like, printably perfect. Someone might raise the point about playtesting for the tutor and that kind of power (see: Recruiter of the Guard), but I would say that you could maybe bump it to 2W easily if necessary. Is it necessary at this point? Honestly, without the body, I don't think you need to change it. It fits the theme of white cards in this set, and I really like how you have the caveat for the Chambers so that you have to be aggressive to get that lifegain; lifegain hasn't been as much of a presence in Duskmoun from my experience, but the cards that go with it are great.

And with this to go with it—yeah, no, I'm thoroughly impressed with the cleanness of this card. It's not blowing the tops off of any design specs in terms of 'radical innovation,' and it doesn't have to, and I'm sure you're aware of that. This card is a design-first gameplay-matters cut-and-dry explicitly functional piece of tech. It would certainly see both limited and constructed play, and it's appropriately pushed for its power. Hard to go against, easy to love. I think that you've done awesome work here! It's kind of a shame that D&T has been pushed out of the Legacy meta a little bit, because we both know that brewing with tutor rooms would be super fun.

Runners in the next room... @abelzumi

[harlequinoccult]

thank you for explaining the caustic personality!! honestly Vulpine might as well have caustic as his main w apathetic tendencies instead, ig ill find out when the demo is updated XD both personality types fit him too well. honestly he's not that aggressive as a person, he's actually mostly quite polite, but he does have a tendency to stare. the ones who really get to see his aggressive side are the people he dislikes (Host better fucking prepare himself-)

well i figured i'd just finish what i started, and continue on my never-ending ramble. usually i like making Ariel an orphan, it's a bit of a callback to his roots and it fits him, but this time i think the second option i usually go for him fits best: single child of a single mother. she's the only family he has that he knows of, a very loving, religious and hard working lady who was shunned from the community for getting pregnant out of wedlock. the very first fights Ari would get into in his childhood were against kids who would say some unsavory shit abt his mom. having a mother who was blindly dedicated to the same church that constantly made her suffer for the mistake of having a kid without a husband also played a very big part into Ariel becoming an atheist and rebelling against the church in his teen years.

she was p absent as a parent, having to work p much the whole day to be able to support them both, but she tried her best the moments when she was present, and Ari recognizes that and loves her dearly. he started stealing things and got his first job quite young to try to help her pay the bills.

he got arrested when he was around 18 yo, probably getting caught on one of his "heists", trying to steal from the richer houses around, and he hasn't seen her since then. his time in prison was... bad. really fucking bad. the worst, lowest point of his life, in fact.

i have no idea how the legal system works in england and i have no desire to learn, but for what's worth he is caught trying to escape at least once, and spends 2 miserable years in there until he finally manages to leave.

did he actually complete his sentence? lol. lmao.

no. no he didn't. be it by a month, a year, a day, the important thing is he didn't.

is Ariel Fox even his real name? i doubt it. that would be stupid wouldn't it, illegally immigrating to a different country after escaping from prison and using your real ass name to do it, he's smarter than that.

fun fact abt Ari: he does not want to go back to prison. he'll kill himself before they have the chance to catch him.

on a... "unrelated" note, the reason why Carter managed to wrap such a tight leash on Ariel is bc he learned smth he shouldn't have and he's holding that little secret right over his head. im sure you can't possibly guess what he found out that would make Ariel put up w his shit the way he did-

so the fact that Ari ends up in this city (i forgor the name and i can't leave the askbox to check or ill lose everything i typed 😭) is honestly not rlly much of a surprise, nor is the fact that he's p much alone despite living there for years. he's always been a bit of an outcast, a loner, someone who avoids people on purpose. he hasn't seen his mom since he left england, but he looks her up every once in a while. debates whether he should call her. decides it's for the best that he doesn't.

he starts over. new life, new me, or whatever the hell people say. starts off already with shifty connections, he needs a fake identity and a fake birth certificate and a fake everything if he has any hope of passing by unscathed, after all. needs to lay low. not call too much attention. be a nobody. wait until things calm down a bit.

he stays at least a year living like that, settling in, subduing his accent until he can pass it off as having learned it from a family member or some other bullshit. applies for university. becomes just another american college student.

meets someone.

falls in love.

has them taken from him. has his entire life destroyed. again. needs to try to pick himself up. again. is struck with such crippling grief unlike anything he has ever felt before. it's almost as bad as the two worst years of his life.

almost.

he's never letting anything like that happen to him ever again.

anyway! as mentioned before, he was working on getting a doctorate when Carter came along, and he sort of had to drop out after that, to the dismay of his teachers. what was he getting a doctorate on? honestly p much anything would be in-character for Ariel, he's an everything nerd, from language to history to engineering to biology that man wants to know quite literally everything the world has to offer him. his infodumps are the most complete and varied possible, he's a walking talking encyclopedia.

he's an extremely paranoid person who overthinks everything including his own overthinking and really, if nothing else here's to hoping that OD can at least teach him to loosen up a bit-

he never enjoyed doing drugs very much, despite partaking in them quite often in his youth. he's way more likely to experience a bad trip than a good one, so he learned to stay away from them as much as possible, but alcohol and nicotine were a completely different story. he's still addicted to nicotine to this day, the one drug he allows himself to never let go. he was an alcoholic through a big chunk of his life, until someone did Very Bad Things to him when he was too drunk to be able to fight back. that experience just flipped a switch inside of him, it broke him badly enough to make him promise himself to never touch another drop of alcohol in his life, a promise he did very well by until Carter killed his beloved and he had the worst relapse of his life. he's back to being a straight edge now tho, its fine! its not fine

he has immense distaste for the cops of the city, but part of him is kinda grateful that they're so bad at their job or else he would be Fucked. he absolutely despised doing work for Carter, even after he became so numb to it all it made him want to tear his own heart out just to make sure it was still beating. i cannot stress enough how much he suffered inside at the start, part of the reason he started drinking again was to try to ignore how much all of it hurt. at least he could try to make sure Carter didn’t kill innocents. he couldn't really be sure every time, but he tried. he really did.

he probably tried killing Carter at least once. or thought abt it, at the very least. made plans. had it all figured out in his head, down to the last detail, how he would do it and get away with it. ngl, he was probably on the verge of putting it into action when Host sent him that email and just gave him the perfect chance to do it just like that-

as a killer, Vulpine is very much the stealthy type, hiding in the shadows, walking withouth making a sound. if its a group, he'll pick them off one by one, until someone notices and all hell breaks loose or until all of them are dead. if he's forced to kill someone he doesn't think deserves it, he's merciful. very quick, clean deaths, going straight for the vitals, almost painless. if it's someone he thinks deserves to suffer, however... well, he's always been curious to know what a human vivisection would look like.

truth is, he's a sadist. well, a sadomasochist really, but he gets off on making people suffer, and he hates it. he especially hates the fact that hurting the person he loves is such a tantalizing thought. marking them blue and black, covering them in red, it's not really his fault blood is such a beautiful thing, is it? and if his lover wants to do the same to him, well, he's more than happy to oblige. anything for his love. except bondage. getting tied up/held down is actually a pretty bad trigger for him, he hates it, no matter the context

ok well i think that's everything! thanks for indulging me!!

-🦊

The ask is somewhere around here, i know it, but with caustic mcs, Carter assumed they were all bark and no bite. Fitting, i think.

And, given everything, OD is a fitting match, they like learning and they are smart -in their own way- the drugs and partying is for themselves, they aren't the type to pressure people into drugs, in fact, they can and will tell you about the various side effects of any given drug because they think its legitimately interesting.

[batsplat]

i also think that marc’s single minded focus leads him to ignore people who are significantly less talented than him (no offense). it seems like there are some people who would LIKE to beef with marc, but he simply catalogues their crimes against him (or however he sees it) and uses that as motivation to very tidily beat them. and maybe vale was more ready to “stoop to their level” so to speak — although, like you said, MOST of his feuds were with quite talented riders

(follow up to this) all of them were quite talented riders! but again, what you're talking about can really be explained through competitive necessity. marc's career has quite a few seasons where he's well clear of the field and quite a few seasons where he's not competitive at all, whereas valentino has far more seasons where he's top three of the championship without being completely dominant. that's the thing right, marc's spats aren't with riders he's currently engaged with title fights in. and valentino wasn't doing all that much stooping either - he too has various minor spats of the marc variety... but they've been forgotten about because it just wasn't that serious. all of valentino's major feuds are with riders he got into title fights with

I'm not saying that marc isn't single minded or that he isn't arrogant, because obviously he's both of those things. and yes, he does tend to adopt quite an isolationist approach in that he mostly keeps the grid at a distance. and yes, sometimes riders criticise him and he mostly does not engage. but at the same time, all the spats you're thinking about here just aren't the kind of things that escalated into feuds for valentino either, so you're comparing apples and oranges really. the closest point of comparison we have is valentino's rivalries with biaggi/sete escalating and marc's with dovi not doing so... but like. marc isn't ignoring a string of provocations in that rivalry. there's just more compelling reasons you can point to for that not escalating, like the competitive stakes in the marc/dovi rivalry or indeed dovi's personality. you can also point to valentino being more proactive in the biaggi rivalry - but valentino wasn't stopping at that point. he didn't have some divine insight to know his talent levels were greater than biaggi several years before they began competing on-track. when he triggers that feud, he is for all intents and purposes the underdog in that dynamic

the closest you get to a marco bezzecchi-type situation for valentino is... I mean, honestly even melandri is pushing it because that guy was at least runner up to valentino and theoretically might have come to pose a competitive threat - but notably, that's actually a dynamic where you can say valentino was going by the marc playbook in brushing off questions about the conflict, kinda just ignoring it was happening while going about his business. valentino also wouldn't beef with an alex rins equivalent, not at the 2019!marc stage of his career, unless there were a compelling competitive justification... likewise, valentino isn't notably more proactive in roughing up dani and casey in 2006 than marc is with fabio in 2019 - they go about it a little differently, yes, but broadly it's on the same reasonably muted level of shenanigans. marc has more low level beef with various riders on the grid than valentino did, partly just because he's less well-liked in general, but he's not been put into situations where that was ever going to escalate into a full-blown feud. now, if you put jorge in these scenarios then, yes, I imagine that absolutely could get... unpleasant, and he's got more of an inclination to punch down anyway. but valentino? nope. remember, he generally had a reputation for being an affable rider and getting along with most of his competitors. obviously we focus more on the feuds now because they're so flashy and memorable, but that's a very very long career - and one that's reasonably light on any major beef with anyone who wasn't one of his main career rivals

anyway, look, again I'm not saying you're wrong necessarily in that marc is more inclined to withdraw than valentino is. and he DOES have some alien-based tunnel vision, hence dovi not getting any attention in his self-produced documentary. or that thing he's been doing in pressers this year where he starts reminiscing about fighting the aliens at any conceivable opening while a deeply unaffected pedro acosta sits next to him. like, I do agree with you about what marc's working process typically looks like, I just don't think it's really the reason why he's been slumming it on the feud count. valentino himself tended to brush off most instances of his competitors being critical towards him because he could afford to, and only got into feuds against rivals who were broadly speaking on his level. in valentino's feud with casey, valentino didn't have the option of dismissing casey. there was no stooping involved - because casey was not a less talented rider than valentino. casey's the extreme example, but it's true in general of valentino's rivals. yes, the working process might look different, but broadly speaking marc and valentino were exactly as likely to start feuds with riders they have never been in a title fight with - aka not at all. marc might be more inclined to cut himself off from the rest of the grid than valentino was, but unfortunately he's also had rather an easy task on his hands in that regard. he's not had anyone both willing to beef with him and capable of posing a significant enough competitive threat (when he himself has been competitive). shame, really

[fallingdownhell]

Hehe, glad to hear you enjoy my brainrot concepts! Have another one, this time with a bit of crossover mixed in, but you don't need to know HSR to see where I'm getting at. Also for the sake of simplicity, let's ignore that it probably wouldn't be that simple to go in and out of Teyvat ^^"

So in Honkai Star Rail there exists a species of humanoids with draconic features (mostly just pointed ears, but the more important ones also have horns and a tail) who typically 'molt' every 600~700 years. That is to say, they self-reincarnate and loose the memories of their past lives during the progress. You see where this is going, right?

Reader who's a 'High Elder' (One of the important members of the species, with more draconic features) who keeps seeing snippets of their past lives in their dreams.

What do they see in those dreams you may ask? Well, there's a certain white haired man, dressed in blue that keeps appearing in them, often accompanied with indescribable feelings of longing that linger, even after they've woken up.

Maybe they've written down their past lives in some book, a sort-of-diary or heck, even several, that span throughout their multiple lives. All of them talk excessively about the man from their dreams after a certain point in their respective lives. Apparently he's from a whole different world than their own, yet they seemed to seek him out in every life to spend their time together with him until their 'molt' approaches and they had to return home once more. The books go into detail about memorable moments in their relationships, some of them even feel familiar, since they got to re-experience them in dreams, but it's mostly filled with a lot of romantic ramblings about that man.

Yeah, it's clear why they always want to seek him out. After reading all that, who would be surprised that they want to find out just who exactly that man is? So they leave their homeworld as soon as they're able to, in search for Teyvat, the world where this man apparently lives.

Until they finally reunite with him in this life. I'd say Neuvillette recognises them each time, because even though the self-reincarnation process means that they've essentially become a different person, something about them just always stays the same, no matter what. Thus, they fall in love with each other all over again, each time wildly different from the last.

TLDR: Neuvillette and a Reader who falls for him in every reincarnation

No, because that is so cute!😭

I like the idea of reader just keeping a diary about every life they spent with Neuvillette, documenting every little detail because they know they will eventually forget.

Imaging just reading about this mysterious man that you were apparently with in each and every one of your previous lives.. I honestly would be so fucking intrigued myself, I also would die to find out who this person truly is.

And Neuvi, who paitently waits every time for you to return to him again.

He has full trust that you will, never doubting it for even a second, even if it takes you hundreds of years until he can have you in his arms again.

He does not care about the appearance you take on each new life. He knows it's you when he lays eyes on you. It just feels right when he sees you.. he's pulled to you, almost like a magnet.

He meant it when he promised he would always wait for you. And each and every single time, he would wait for you in the same, oddly familiar place. The world around him could change beyond recognition, he would still remain here, only waiting for you...

Fuck, I made myself cry with how beautiful this sounds😭