#we’re hosting a reception

[breakbreadwithme]

kind of fucked up that i have a Busy Day At Work tomorrow & i won’t have any way to Deal With That

[jerzwriter]

I was inspired by this OTP Question from @kyra75 : How would they react to someone flirting with them? Flirting with their significant other. Kyra asked for all four of my pairings, and I decided I'd write a little fic for each one. Tobias x Casey's can be found here. If inspiration hits, I'll write one for Trystan x Carolina (CoP) and Eli x Zoe (WTD), too. Thanks so much for the inspiration, Kyra!

Book: Open Heart (Book 3 Timeline) Pairing: Ethan Ramsey x Kaycee MacClennan (F!MC) Rating: Teen Words: 2,005 Summary: Ethan and Kaycee are on their way to the first conference they're attending together since making their relationship public. But it seems that everyone didn't receive the memo. Fortunately, they don't get jealous.

A/N: Participating in @choicesprompts Flufftober #7 - Acceptance.

The sun was just starting to peek through the Boston sky when Ethan and Kaycee emerged from the lobby of their apartment building, causing the befuddled doorman to do a double-take as Ethan nodded his way. Seeing him up at this ungodly hour (for a morning jog... of all things) was commonplace, but a Kaycee spotting this early in the day was almost unheard of. Still, she was all but glowing as she hopped into their waiting cab.  

Once nestled in the back seat, she leaned over and planted a kiss on her boyfriend’s cheek. “Finally! We're attending a conference where we don’t have to pretend we're not together anymore!"

Ethan smiled, but there was a hint of judgment in it. “Why is that so important? It’s not as if we intend to put on a soft porn performance in the reception area?”

“Which is really a pity,” Kaycee laughed. “I’m sure some of the old fuddy-duddies in attendance could use a pointer or two. It would be a public service, really."

This time, he smiled genuinely, pulling her under his arm with a chuckle. “I don’t know what I’m going to do with you.”

“Oh, I have some ideas,” she teased. “But seriously! Aren't you excited? We can hold hands, acknowledge each other, and we don’t have to pretend we’re unbothered when others flirt with us.”

“Well, that was never an issue," Ethan insisted. "I don’t get jealous. Jealousy is for people with trust issues, and I trust you.”

Kaycee raised an eyebrow, her lips curving into a smile. “And you should trust me, but, babe, you do get jealous sometimes."

“No," he insisted. " I don’t."

“All right,” she smiled with amusement. She didn’t push further, but in her mind, it was game on.

Santa Monica was beautiful at this time of year, and their resort was already bustling when they arrived, filled with tourists and conventioneers alike. Doctors from all over America were milling about, networking over cocktails and hors d’oeuvres. It was an atmosphere that Kaycee thrived in, but Ethan did his very best to avoid. But one thing was certain: the atmosphere was ripe for flirtation, and Kaycee was already thinking of the long game.

She was the first to experience it, only moments after they arrived. As they headed toward the registration table, a tall, handsome surgeon from New York spotted Kaycee and all but jogged over to greet her. His hazel eyes were alight as he neared her. “Dr. MacClennan, correct?” he grinned with a bit too much confident charm. “We met at the cardiothoracic symposium in Chicago last year, and I’ve been looking forward to running into you again ever since.”

Kaycee politely returned his smile but stepped closer to Ethan, trying to give the suave surgeon an easy way out.

“That’s so kind of you to say,” she replied. “And you are?”

“Dr. Barrington from NYU-Langone,” he smiled, so taken in with Kaycee he never even saw Ethan standing by her side. “I was wondering if you’re free tonight. My hospital is hosting a private dinner, and most of the convention’s keynote speakers will be there. I’d love for you to join me if you can.”

Kaycee opened her mouth to reply, but before she could get a word out, Ethan spoke calm, but direct. “We have plans,” was all he said, but Kaycee swore his tone brought the temperature in the crowded room down ten degrees.

Suddenly aware of Ethan, the surgeon blinked. “Oh. Well, I see.” He turned to Kaycee, undeterred; there may have even been a wink. “Well, next time?”

Ethan cursed under his breath as Dr. Barrington walked away, and Kaycee stifled a laugh. “But you don’t get jealous, right, hon?”

“I’m not jealous,” he shot back. “I was just doing my part to save you from an extremely boring dinner when you have much better plans with me.”

“Oh, that's what that was,” she grinned, straightening the collar of Ethan’s linen shirt. “And what do those plans involve?”

He dropped his lips to her ear, whispering in a way that made Kaycee forget all about this little game. “It involves you, me, a bottle of champagne, our bed, and very little clothing.”

“You’re right,” she giggled, looping her arm in his. “Your plans sound much more appealing.”

Throughout the conference, there were many more flirtatious encounters, each more entertaining than the last. At one of the panel sessions, a beautiful conference organizer set her sights on Ethan. A statuesque woman with long, dark hair and dazzling blue eyes moved to Ethan’s side. The compliments she bestowed on him were flowing faster than the wine, and she leaned in just a little too close.

“Dr. Ramsey,” she beamed. “I’m Dr. Monica Rivera. I’ve been dying to meet you in person.”

“Have you,” he replied. “Then I hope you won’t be disappointed.”

“Doubtful,” she simpered, eyeing him from head to toe. “I’ve always found your research to be so inspiring,” she said, brushing her hand against his arm. “I’d love to discuss some thoughts I have with you. Perhaps over a drink later?”  

Ethan, who was entirely focused on his presentation, didn’t have the time for this. “I don’t drink,” he stated flatly.

Dr. Rivera’s face faltered, but she recovered quickly. “Well, then, over coffee?”

Ethan glanced at her, annoyance etched on his face. “I don’t drink coffee either.”

Kaycee, who had been observing the exchange from a few feet away, bit back a laugh as the woman walked away, clearly confused and discouraged. Ethan, focused as ever, was already looking over his notes when Kaycee appeared at his side.

“You don’t drink alcohol or coffee?” She laughed. “Are you about to tell me you aren't really a doctor? You don't like opera? Because that’s all that’s left of your identity, sir!”

He turned to her with a mischievous glint in his eyes. “Were you jealous, my dear?”

“What?" She laughed. "Not at all. Entertained? Yes. Amused? Without question. But jealous, nah. She’s got nothing on me.”

Ethan leaned over, the scent of Kaycee’s perfume intoxicating as he surreptitiously placed a kiss on her cheek. “Now, that’s the truth.”

As dusk began to fall, they met up at a cocktail hour by the pool. They had spent the majority of the day attending separate workshops, and Kaycee was looking forward to catching up with Ethan. But before they could enjoy a drink together, another attendee, this time a young doctor from Johns Hopkins, slid up next to her.

“You must be Kaycee MacClennan,” he said, flashing a bright smile. “You’re even more beautiful than I heard.”

Kaycee raised an eyebrow. “It's Doctor Kaycee MacClennan,” she retorted. “And, really? That’s what you heard? We’re at a medical conference with our peers, and that’s what you’ve heard about me?”

“Well, among other things,” he replied smoothly, his eyes lingering on her. “I also hear you’ve been doing some groundbreaking work at Edenbrook. Perhaps you could fill me in over dinner. What do you say?”

Kaycee crossed her arms, amazed the man couldn’t see how annoyed she was. “Well,” she began when she felt a strong arm encircle her waist.

“We’re not available for dinner,” Ethan declared, his steel blue eyes daring the charlatan to say another word.

The young doctor blinked, clearly thrown. “Oh, uh, I didn’t realize—”

“Well, now you do,” Ethan said dismissively as the doctor scurried away.

Kaycee couldn’t help but chuckle as they walked away. “Thanks for the save, babe. But I had it under control.”

“Of that, I have no doubt,” Ethan replied.

“But you had to step in,” she grinned. “Because you might have been a little jealous?”

Ethan’s eyes narrowed. “He was wasting your time, and I wanted to be with you."

“Right,” she teased, nudging him playfully. “Jealousy had nothing to do with it.”

The day continued the same way, with Ethan maintaining a stoic front as others flirted relentlessly with Kaycee, and she quietly relished watching him jump in every single time. She couldn’t wait to tease him about it later, but that would have to wait until after the final reception – where everything was about to change.

Dr. Allison Porter was the star of the conference, the main keynote speaker, and a world-renowned cardiologist with a smile that could light up a room. She was holding court tonight, and everyone wanted her attention, but she was only interested in one doctor from Boston. When she spotted him alone at the bar, she knew it was time to make her move.

“Dr. Ramsey, I presume,” she grinned, extending a well-manicured hand as she approached.

“Dr. Porter,” he nodded politely while shaking her hand. “It’s lovely to make your acquaintance.”

“Likewise, I’m sure. And please, call me Allison." Her eyes twinkled as she assessed Ethan, though he didn't seem to notice. “I’ve been watching you from afar for some time now. The work you’ve done at Edenbrook is truly awe-inspiring.”

“Well,” Ethan laughed softly. “I’m very proud of the work we've achieved, but awe-inspiring may be a bit of hyperbole.”

“Don’t underestimate yourself, Dr. Ramsey. You should hear how others speak of you at the conference.”

“Really?” he smirked, raising his glass of Scotch to his lips. “I’m usually better off not knowing what my colleagues are saying about me when I’m not in earshot.”

Allison tossed her head back, laughing much too enthusiastically, and that caught Kaycee’s attention from across the room. Amused, she grabbed a flute of champagne off a passing waiter’s tray and shifted positions so she could get a better view of the show taking place. She wondered how long it would take for Ethan to become flustered or have that familiar scowl take over his face. But as she continued to watch, it never occurred. Instead, he seemed taken in by the conversation, which was fine... until Dr. Porter placed her hand on Ethan’s arm.

“Excuse me,” Kaycee said with a plastered smile as she turned on her heel and made her way across the crowded room. Allison’s voice was lithe, almost sultry, as Kaycee approached from behind.

“Ethan, I think you and I should definitely...collaborate... sometime. I have no doubt that we could...accomplish great things together.”

“Hey, sweetheart,” Kaycee announced as she took her place at Ethan's side. “I’ve been looking for you! I should have known to check the bar first!”

“Yes,” he replied. “I’m surprised that wasn’t your first thought. Kaycee, this is Dr. Allison Porter, Dr. Porter, my teammate and partner, Dr. Kaycee MacClennan.”

“Oh,” Dr. Porter said, attempting to hide her surprise. “It’s lovely to meet you. I’ve read your work as well, Dr. MacClennan...  didn’t realize that you two were...”

“Yes, we are,” Kaycee beamed confidently. “Very happily so.”

Allison’s eyes narrowed slightly before she took her leave, and Kaycee turned to Ethan with a sarcastic smirk. “Collaboration, huh?” She said, taking a sip of Ethan’s drink. “Collaboration, my ass. She wanted... something else.”

Ethan cleared his throat, obviously amused. “Are we... what’s the word... jealous, Dr. MacClennan?”

“What? Me?” Kaycee replied. “Absolutely not! I don’t get jealous. I trust you!”

“OK,” Ethan smiled softly. “Whatever you say.” He moved in closer. “Why don’t we get some fresh air? I'd like to get away from all these people lusting after us.”

"Hmm. We do have that effect on people, don't we?" She smiled. "But you can be honest. You just want to get me alone. Don't you?"

"Always," he growled in her ear.

They left and walked along the beach hand-in-hand, their footsteps mingling with the sound of waves crashing against the shore. As they recounted the day’s events, Kaycee nudged Ethan with her shoulder.

“Admit it,” she said, smiling. “You got jealous. More than once."

He glanced at her, his face still stoic but his eyes warm. “Jealousy is beneath me. But you, you may have turned a slight shade of green when you saw Dr. Porter speaking to me. But don't worry, I think it’s kind of cute.”

"What! I was not jealous!" Kaycee insisted, contemplating kicking sand at him if it wouldn't have made her look like a child. "I was not jealous at all!"

Ethan gave her a long look, and finally, a ghost of a smile tugged at the corner of Kaycee's mouth. “All right. Maybe... a little," she grinned. "But admit it, you got a little jealous today, too."

"Fine," he surrendered. "I did."

Kaycee grinned, slipping her hand into his. “Thought so.”

Kaycee shook her head as they continued to walk. "What is it about these things? The minute the lectures are over, it's like someone pumps an aphrodisiac into the air."

Ethan laughed but agreed with her assessment. "I never understood it," he said. "These are professional events. People should act... professionally. I would never lower myself to behaving that way."

Kaycee's eyes flicked to his, the moonlight showing the shadows of her smile. "Seriously? Do you remember Miami? I was there, you know."

"That's different," he insisted. "That was... you."

"Mmm-hmm. But you had been with me in Boston plenty of times, but it took Miami for you to finally come to - then quickly take loss of - your senses."

Ethan stopped in his tracks, his hands finding Kaycee's waist and pulling her near. He kissed her so passionately, so intensely, that she forgot what she was saying - which may have been the very point. He pulled away with a playful grin.

"Enough of this. What do you say we head back to our room and remind ourselves why no one else here stood a chance?"

"Sounds good to me," she said, jumping into his arms. "And Ethan?"

"Yes?"

"I really wasn't jealous."

"All right, Kaycee," he winked. "Whatever you say."

@choicesficwriterscreations @openheartfanfics

Tagging others separately.

[zumicho]

home┊002┊004

003: monsters under the bed

© zumicho all rights reserved. do not repost, modify, steal, plagiarize, or translate my works on any platform.

────────────────────────

[ RINTARO POV ]

“do you think we’re bad people?”

she stumbles into my room, dispatching yellow tinted light to disrupt the peaceful darkness of my sleep. If she were a different person, it would’ve been a problem. It’s unexplainable why I can’t bring myself to treat her the same way I treat everyone else. 

yelling and exaggerated laughter spill in from outside - a sign that my teammates haven't stopped abusing the ‘freeflow sake’ perk we were gifted by reception. I was lucky enough to slip out before it got too crazy; from the looks of it–she wasn’t. 

her head tilts, a supposedly small movement, but it does wonders. she frowns down at me–and for a minute I think it’s my bedhead. 

“..what?” 

“you didn’t answer my question.” oh.

"'bad' is subjective."

and she pouts, amplifying her already apple-red cheeks.

"do you think I'm a bad person?" I ask.

our hands brush together as she leans over the bedframe, conducting a scientific analysis of my nose (it feels like). "yes."

"why--"

"you invited me over, but you only really talked to me at the door. saying hi when you let me in and ignoring me for the rest of the night makes you a terrible host. and a bad person." I would usually laugh at someone this drunk, but no one's ever been this offended that I didn't talk to them. I sit up, guilt stabbing at my side.

"I would try and make it up to you," I squint at the clock above the window. "I can't think of anything other than walking you home though." that earns me a sigh.

"unless you want to sleep over." my mouth has a mind of its own. "there's only one bed in this room." her liquid courage is contagious.

she bites at her bottom lip, and I stare. I'm not ashamed. I'm just being relatable. atsumu would agree. anyone else would do the same. this is normal. not just me.

"no." her hands meet her hip, a failed attempt at being stern. "that would make me a bad person too." she lectures, all the while crawling under the covers and laying her head on the pillow beside mine. aran's going to complain in the morning, but that's a tiny price to pay for this view.

an hour passes, and I think she's asleep, but as I close my eyes, I find out we were both awake. her fingers intertwine with mine as she whispers: "are there monsters under the bed?"

I smile. real & big. "you're baby in a grown woman's body." is all the sarcasm I can manage. looking at me through her eyelashes, all starry-eyed in a I-could-kiss-you-right-here-and-now-but-that-would-absolutely-destroy-the-both-of-us kind of way, she asks, "so you don't believe in monsters?" "I do. but I bet they'd be scared of me," I joke. I swear her grip on my hand tightens, and she's closer than she was. maybe it's just hopeful imagination.

I’ve never been akin to commitment; why is it now that I feel the need to change? 

────────────────────────

ib: @/wipsbymaya on tiktok, it’s embarrassing how much inspiration I get from that app but it birthed this so I guess it’s not so embarassing

author’s note: how we feeling chat

@phoenix-eclipses @thechaosoflonging @yuminako @nbcvs @tenjikusstuff4 @intergalacticrory @sonicsolos @yenonnoff @wyrcan @cnnmairoll @causenessus @reads-stuff-quietly @giocriedpower @applepi25 @gra-eae @lilchubbyyy @thvvluvr @toges-cough-syrup @steiins

[all-about-kyu]

Summary: You and Sangyeon have a little one-on-one time after your wedding. Pairing: Sangyeon x fem!reader Tropes: newlyweds au, established relationship au Genre: smut, fluff Rating: R 18+ Warnings: mentions of children, lots of kissing Smut Warnings: unprotected sex, creampie, breeding kink, dirty talk, clitoral stimulation, cum play Word Count: 1,260 Host Tags: @sanjoongie @thelargefrye

Before You Interact February Filth Masterlist

Listen to ♡ No Makeup by Exo

“Hey,” Sangyeon giggles, a goofy smile on his lips.

“Hi,” you smile back, making eye contact through the mirror.

Sangyeon steps closer and wraps his arms around you. You’re both still dressed up. Sangyeon has his suit on. He had tossed his jacket over the back of the armchair by your bedroom window. You still have your wedding gown on. Your hair is a little bit messier than when you first had it done this morning. The fun of your reception (mixed with some champagne and wine) led you to let loose and enjoy yourself after all the stress of planning and organizing your wedding was finally over. 

“We’re married,” he beams, leaning down to kiss your neck.

You match his smile, moving your head to allow him space to kiss your neck, “We’re married.”

“You wanna shower and head to bed?” He asks, still kissing your skin, “We had a long day.”

You hum, “That’s probably a good idea.”

Sangyeon pulls away to undo the laces up the back of your gown. His hand barely grazes against your skin, but the faint touch still makes a shiver run down your spine. When Sangyeon helps you step out of the dress, he offers you your silk bathrobe. It’s nothing he hasn’t seen before, but your husband is always quite the gentleman. You tie the ribbon around your waist and wander toward the bathroom, passing by Sangyeon, who is carefully hanging your gown in the closet. You’re removing your makeup when your husband enters your en-suite. His white button-up is already open, letting you have a beautiful view of his muscular chest and abdomen.

“Enjoying your view?” He teases, a slight smirk on his lips as he tosses the shirt into your laundry basket.

“Very much so.” you match his energy.

Sangyeon comes up behind you again to help pull bobby pins and flowers from your hair. He does his best not to tug at any strands as he meticulously undoes the hairstyling. You continue to wipe away your makeup until your face is finally bare. Sangyeon cards his fingers through your hair, massaging your sore scalp. You hum contently, letting your eyes fall closed. When you look at him again, you see his eyes practically dripping with affection.

“What?” You ask, a small giggle invading your tone.

Sangyeon kisses your head, “I’m so damn lucky to call you my wife.”

You feel flustered suddenly and look away from him. Your husband kisses your cheek before stripping the rest of his clothes off and turning on the shower. You shake your head and remove your robe before joining him in the warm water. Even as you both shower off the day, Sangyeon still holds you close and continually kisses any place his can on your head, neck, and shoulders. The feeling of his skin against yours under the warm spray of the shower makes a warm, comforting feeling flood through your chest. 

You practically collapse into your bed once you’re fully clean and finished your night routine. Sanyeon strides out behind you, his pajama pants low on his hips. Sangyeon crawls into bed next to you and pushes a lock of your damp hair out of your eyes.

“Tired?” He asks in a sweet tone.

��Mmm,” you mumble back, “I’m tired, but I’m more happy to lay down finally.”

You scoot up on your bed and curl up against your husband’s bare chest. He wraps an arm around you and rubs his thumb against your shoulder. It’s comforting, and you could ask for nothing more than this. The both of you stay silent for a few minutes, just enjoying the peaceful atmosphere.

“Sweetheart,” Sangyeon nearly whispers, “do you think your mom was serious about grandkids already?”

You shrug, “She’s been saying stuff like that since she met you. You know mom just wanted to get you stuck in the family as soon as she could.” You laugh lightly.

You feel Sangyeon shift underneath you, “I think she’s right.”

“Sangyeon?” You question, lifting your head up from his shoulder.

Sangyeon searches your eyes for any apprehension, “I think it could be nice to start at least trying. Even if we aren’t seriously trying yet.”

You don’t respond with words. Instead, you lean up a little and kiss him. It’s a soft kiss, but the intentions behind it are anything but hidden. Sangyeon sighs happily into the kiss, wrapping his arms around your waist instantly. That familiar, comforting heat spreads through your body as you hear Sangyeon let out a low growl. He rolls you both over so you’re caged under him. 

“Are you gonna let me fuck you full, sweetheart?” He whispers against your lips.

You nod, “Want it. Want it so bad.”

Sangyeon tugs his pants down and pushes your robe open, leaving you both mostly bare again. You whimper as he grinds against you. His lips only leave yours for a brief moment to take your hand in his and kiss your wedding rings before lacing your fingers together. The small gesture fills your stomach with butterflies. You feel him grind harder as he finally gets fully hard. Sangyeon whispers a small check to ensure you truly want to continue. The moment he pushes into you, you swear you ascend. 

“You feel so good, sweetheart.” He groans, thrusting into you smoothly.

“Sangyeon,” you moan, “want you to cum inside me so bad. Wanna be bred by you. Please!”

A switch flips inside him, and he starts fucking you at an animalistic pace. He’s still careful with you, but this sudden change of pace has you seeing stars. With each thrust, he growls or moans something about fucking you full of his cum. Each comment makes you whimper and buck your hips up to meet his thrusts. His hand that was laced with yours releases you and wanders down your chest until it finds its way between your bodies. He starts to rub small soft circles against your clit. When you clench around him, he lets out a low growl.

“Your pretty pussy is gonna look so good with my cum leaking out of it.” He muses, “Maybe I should keep you stuffed with my cum all the time.”

“Babe, fuck!” You moan in response.

He chuckles, pressing a kiss to your clavicle, “We have a week and a half off for our honeymoon. I know we were going to have fun and explore the island when we arrived, but maybe I should keep you locked up in our bungalow and fuck you full all day, every day. Doesn’t that sound like a dream, sweetheart?”

You reach up and tangle your fingers in his hair as your orgasm washes over you. Sangyeon’s follows close behind. He fucks his cum into you as your walls flutter around him. The feeling of his cum inside you is one that you never want to forget. If you say it out loud, he would probably never let you leave bed again. As he pulls out, he watches how a small bit of his cum drips out immediately. He swipes his cum up with his thumb and starts to play with your clit again, using it as a lubricant. You whimper and squirm against his ministrations. Just as you feel heat start to swirl in your belly, he pushes his fingers into you.

“We can’t let my cum go to waste, can we?” 

You shake your head in response.

“Let’s keep this pretty pussy plugged up until I can fuck you full of more cum then.”

COPYRIGHT STARLITMARK 2024© ALL RIGHTS RESERVED — reposting/modifying any fic or piece of original writing posted on this blog is not allowed. Translations are not permitted. 

Networks: @deoboyznet @cultofdionysusnet @kwritersworld @k-vanity

Tag List: @bratty-tingz @yeosangiess @minjaeluver @abbietwilight @wooyoungmybelovedhusband

[xiaq]

Story Time: Top Secret Wedding Dress Project

Ok so B and I have started planning our wedding. We’re going to elope to a fire lookout tower fall of next year and then throw a reception afterward to celebrate with friends/fam. We’re trying to be as fiscally and environmentally responsible as possible, so we're thrifting/diying everything (cake to decor) and my parents are generously allowing us to use their back/side yards to host. I’ve been visiting goodwill every weekend and monitoring FB marketplace like a hawk. Last month, I found a dress. I’m keeping the design a secret from B so Tumblr is going to be my outlet for sharing the slow makeover process.

My end goal is a fitted, floral-embroidered bodice and a big ballroom skirt with a long train. Heart neckline, possibly with mesh straps/sleeves for additional embroidery to spill over.

I found a dress with the perfect silhouette on fb marketplace for $150 (even though it was over $1k new!). The top was a bit big in the bust/straps but otherwise fit me perfectly. I wasn't a fan of the belt or neckline, and it had several stains from being bustled, but I loved it the minute I tried it on (it also has pockets!!).

Here are pics from the fb listing:

The first day I tried it on, and after removing the belt:

Over the last month I removed the belt, padded cups, and underskirt (I’ll replace the underskirt at the end, but cleaning with it attached would have been a nightmare), washed it, slowly got almost all the stains out, and pinned the top into the shape (ish) I was looking for. I also picked up some stretchy organza and some embroidered panels I’m planning to hand paint, as well as some dye and fabric paint.

[send-me-a-puffalope]

Take two because tumblr deleted my entire goddamn essay of a post— so um I did a bad thing (LONG POST INCOMING)

Okay, so I accidentally came up with a FNAF movie AU where William is the Bruce Wayne but evil of Afton Industries, Vanessa is his heir, and Mike is new to the city and just landed a job as one of the Afton Industries henchmen.

Mike quickly realizes something is up because all the other henchmen around him are acting Abnormal™️ as in, they feel almost drained of their humanity (they all wear animal masks, Mike’s is a fox). His first day, the other henchmen that joined the same day, Jeremy, was super friendly and talkative— only to find that the man had gone completely silent, only speaking in affirmation to orders or replying with very rudimentary yeses and nos. The only other “henchman” who seems to be unaffected by this is a blonde woman in a bunny mask, who he quickly befriends because What The Fuck. We’re the only normal ones here. This is weird as shit right??

What Mike doesn’t know is that that henchman, Vanessa, is the reason he isn’t under the same mind control the others are under. In fact, she isn’t technically a henchman at all. She’s there to keep an eye on the third wave of the latest Afton project to confirm that the product, mind control chips attached to the animal masks the henchmen wear, are working as planned (as a parallel to the animatronics in the FNAF movie being controlled by William). This is all leading up to the end of the week, where Afton Industries is throwing a giant Gala with one plan in mind: to use the mind control chips to give William control over all of the city’s elite.

But Vanessa doesn’t agree with William’s plan, instead fucking with the least eye catching henchman’s chip (Mike) so that he notices something is up. And he does. So they become close, even getting to know each other outside of work because neither of them really had a friend before. When he first sees Vanessa’s face, all that registers in his head is huh. she looks kinda familiar. but he doesn’t connect the dots because he’s new to the city and doesn’t keep up with the rich elite because why would he (plus perhaps Vanessa can pull a superhero disguise and wear glasses or some shit 💀💀💀).

Vanessa inconspicuously seeds information to Mike about how the henchmen are being mind controlled and leading him to make the conclusion that that mind control is being extended during the ever impending Gala at the end of the week. They come up with a plan to kill the main server hub of Afton Industries to break the mind control of the henchmen + prevent the city’s elite from falling under William’s control. But there’s some underlying tension because Mike is completely open about his life and even introduces Vanessa to Abby, his little sister who he basically raised, but he catches on that Vanessa always seems to know a little too much about the ongoing of Afton Industries. Worse still is when he catches Vanessa lying about her past/life as her stories start contradicting each other. He starts realizing that he really doesn’t know anything about Vanessa but she begs him to give her just a little more time and then she’ll explain everything.

Vanessa planned to feed Mike code words instructing him through their plan through their comms so that to others, it just sounded like a normal conversation. Vanessa promises him that even if the plan goes awry, she’ll make sure he’ll be okay. He doesn’t question her how.

The day of the Gala comes around and Mike finds himself conveniently positioned right where he needs to be, in the main lobby of Afton Industries, as security. This is where the Welcoming Ceremony was taking place, introducing the hosts and inviting all the guests to the reception.

But as Mike starts panicking because Vanessa isn’t responding through her ear piece, he hears a familiar voice from the balcony of the lobby. He looks up and makes eye contact with his only friend: Vanessa. It dawns on him then that that was the reason for all Vanessa’s secrecy. She’d been lying to him this whole time. How much of this had she been planning since the beginning? Was she still trustworthy or was she actually working with William? How could Vanessa Afton be the “bad guy” when she’d been his closest confidant since moving to the city?

(Was this just an excuse to put Vanessa in this fit? Absofruitly. I am not immune to woman in dress)

Immediately, Mike catches that Vanessa is keeping up her side of the plan when he hears one of their code words in her speech.

William Afton finds Mike personally after he disrupts the server and grabs him, only to be thrown off by Vanessa, who followed him. -> smth smth plot (i’ll think of it later) -> William Afton gets publicly exposed and arrested. Mike turns to Vanessa and asks what’s going to happen to her? She smiles sadly at him and says it’s going to be okay, she’ll survive. -> setup for sequel for because I cannot think of a story ever without setting up for a sequel

And that’s as much as my silly putty lump of a brain thought of while blindly walking around Las Vegas. Was this all inspired by those two pictures? Yes. Am I regretful? Maybe. Ask me again in like 24 hours *smiles serenely*

[nolita-fairytale]

still into you | carmen 'carmy' berzatto | chapter three: saturday

summary: you, syd, marcus, and carmy celebrate a job well done. carmy finally relaxes, while you catch up with old friends. you and carmy talk about your future.

warnings: swearing, no use of y/n, she/her pronouns, drinking & smoking, suggestive language.

word count: 4.7k

listen to: wake me - bleachers | love you for a longtime - maggie rogers | perfume - del water gap | miss simone - sara bareilles | (playlist here)

read: chapter two

(banner by @allthefandomstogether)

Saturday

The sun glares too brightly for it to be early morning, as Carmy begins opening his eyes. It dawns on him that this is the first night in the last few weeks he’s slept through. After blinking his eyes open a few times, he wraps his arms around your waist, curling his body around yours, only to close his eyes again as he drags his lips, softly across your skin. 

“Morning,” you say sleepily, your lips curling into a smile as you feel his touch. 

You’ve been up for a bit, but haven’t been ready to start the day. You’re enjoying the stillness too much now that most of the chaos is finally behind you. 

“Morning, sweetheart,” he says, leaving a soft kiss on your cheek. He presses the tip of his nose against the side of your face, before burying his face in your neck. 

You snuggle up to him, enjoying this change of pace. It feels good – having the luxury to sleep in. You had, after all, stayed up till two in the morning last night, taking a trip down memory lane. 

“How’d you sleep?” you ask, as Carmy breathes you in. 

God he loves the way you smell, the way you feel against him. 

“Good,” he mumbles. “What time is it?” 

There’s no panic in the way he asks you for the time and it may be the first time in a long time that he doesn’t feel hurried. 

You hum in response, reaching for the side table where your phone sits. He protests, letting out a dissatisfied groan as you move away from him. He’s unhappy with the thought of getting out of bed, but before he knows it, you’re sliding back into place, satisfying him once again as you curl your body into his.

“Shit,” you say, as soon as you see the time. “It’s almost eleven.”

“Fuck it,” he says back defiantly, earning a giggle from you. 

It’s not like you have anywhere to be till later this evening – till the James Beard Foundation’s reception they’re hosting as a job well done for last night’s event. 

You enter your passcode, as soon as you see the message notifications from Syd and Marcus, all time stamped from various hours ago.

Sydney: WE ARE HUNGRY. 

Marcus: Heading down for breakfast. You guys up?

Carmy hugs you closer to him with no intention of letting you go. He wouldn’t dream of getting out of this bed. He can hear his phone alerts going off at the same time, from both of your phones,, as the three of you blow up your shared group text. The sound of the pings only further his agitation, making him want to sink into this mattress and never leave.

You: We’re just waking up. Stayed up too late last night. 

Sydney: Ew. 

Marcus: Yeah didn’t need to know that, chef.

You: Get your heads out of the gutter!! Not like that. 

You follow up your text with an eye roll emoji. 

You smile as you Syd sends back a ‘side eye’ emoji. 

Marcus: Ok we just ate breakfast. Heading to check out The Strand and explore the neighborhood some and get a good cup of coffee.

The next text Marcus sends is just a dumpling emoji and question mark, reminding you of the promises you made last night. 

“Baby.”

“Hm?”

You hurriedly type a message, noticing Carmy’s growing impatience with the notifications. 

You: We’ll rally by 1 pm.

Marcus: Dope. 

Syd: Heard.

You: Have fun!!

Carmy groans, taking the phone from your hands and throwing it somewhere onto the floor on his side of the bed. 

“Carmen!” you protest with a giggle, finally turning your body so that you’re laying on your side to face him.

“No more phone,” he grumbles, as he returns to you, pulling you in closer to him, your bodies now chest to chest. 

You smile, leaving a small kiss on the tip of his nose.

“Are you hungry?”

“Yeah,” he admits, against his wishes. “But I just wanna stay here for a little longer. Before we have to get up.” 

“Let’s order room service then. Stay in this bed till we have to meet up with Syd and Marcus,” you suggest, knowing he’ll like your offer.  

“Fuck yes,” Carmy groans, happily. 

“My girl thinks of all the best things.”

You love it when he calls you his girl, the term of endearment bringing a warmth to your soul you never knew you needed. 

“It’s why you love me.”

He hums in response. 

It is one of the many reasons he loves you. 

“It is.”

“Carmy?” you say. 

“Hm?”

“I love being your girl.”

He smiles. 

“I love you, sweetheart.”

*

You spend the afternoon with Carmy, Syd, and Marcus, and you’re relieved to discover that it feels like everyone’s taken a breath. The four of you take the subway down to Chinatown, letting yourselves explore while consuming as many pork dumplings as humanly possible. It’s a completely different pace than the last two days. You’ve all slowed down a little – you’re letting yourselves enjoy the city more – and it feels damn good to be home. 

It’s an afternoon well spent. You part ways till it’s time to rally one last time at the James Beard House for the celebratory reception. It’s one last big push for your social battery, and you’re surprised that Carmy hasn’t tried to get out of it yet. Between the big announcement from last night, the media people that will be there, and all of the networking that goes on at these things, he’s just resigned himself to pushing through it with you. 

You spot him across the room, practically backed up against the wall with a glass of champagne in hand that he’s holding onto for dear life. Your friends have cornered him in what looks like a love-fest that’s caught him completely off guard. 

“Carmy, everything was… fantastic,” Liz compliments, mid-conversation with your boyfriend. 

“And it’s so good to see you!” Maya adds as she joins the conversation. She gives Carmy a big squeeze and he looks a little surprised. 

“Beautiful job last night. Liz is right. Everything was incredible and congratulations on the expansion,” Maya continues. 

“Yeah, thank you for coming. It means a lot,” Carmy replies. 

They exchange over a few different topics and Carmy tries his best to be the conversationalist that he’s never felt he was. He digs deep for it, knowing that these are two important people in your life. He feels more comfortable asking questions than answering them and with Liz, it’s a little easier considering they have shared experiences. 

How’s the new restaurant gig? Did you ever figure out that one dish? Did they ever fire that one guy that everyone hated working with?

And with Maya it’s more: How’s the new baby? I hear you were working for a new brand as their creative director. How’s the promotion been?

It’s not that he doesn’t love your friends – it’s that conversing with them one-on-one feels like an enormous pressure no matter how much you swear they love him. Carmy is relieved to see you approaching, as you make your way towards where your friends have cornered him. 

“Hey, I hope you guys don’t mind me stealing this one away,” you say, giving Carmy the out he so desperately needs. 

“Of course not.” 

Carmy shoots you a ‘thank you’ glance, and you take his hand in his, leading him away. 

“Please do not leave me alone at this party again,” he mumbles to you. 

“I won’t,” you reassure him. “But there is someone I want to introduce you to.” 

He sighs, and you can tell he’s at the end of his rope. 

“One more?”

“One more.”

You lead him over to a friend of yours that he’s seen you talking to at the bar: a darker skinned man in glasses, the hair on top of his head braided down to the nape of his neck. 

“Carmy, I want you to meet my friend, Gregory. Gregory has a restaurant out in Portland and was at the dinner last night,” you say as you introduce him to Carmy. 

“Carmy, it’s such a pleasure to finally meet you. I’ve heard so many wonderful things about you from this one,” Gregory says, warmly. 

“Thanks for coming, man,” Carmy replies, humbly. 

“Gregory and I spent the summer at JBF chef bootcamp together,” you continue, hoping it rings a bell in Carmy’s head. 

“Oh yeah,” Carmy says, his eyes lighting up as soon as he realizes that he’s that Gregory. “It’s great to meet you too.”

“I feel like you’ve been doing a lot of TV lately,” you say to Gregory, hoping to spark some conversation. 

“Yeah. It’s been a great way to keep the momentum going for the restaurant, you know? Uh… you guys ever think of it?” he asks, earning a funny look from you and Carmy.

“Oh no,” Carmy says, practically shuddering at the idea. “No, that is a thing of my literal nightmares.” He gestures towards you, shyly as he continues, and he’s so glad he has you as a social crutch in settings like these. “Besides, if we ever did… it’d be more her thing. Or- or Syd’s maybe.”

“And I just started a new job so,” you add in.

“Oh, where are you at now?” Gregory asks curiously.

“Sustainable food system start up. I’m their culinary education director.”

“Oh shit! Congratulations. That’s like… the perfect thing for you,” he says. 

“Totally. I was ready for a little more consistency and uh, it’s kinda nice with one of us workin’ the whole 9 to 5 thing,'' you reply, with a smile. 

“Well, I’ve got to get going. But it was great to meet you, Carmy,” Gregory says, excusing himself from the conversation. He turns his attention to you, a kind look in his eyes. “Always a pleasure catching up.”

You watch as Gregory exits, and you can see the envious look in Carmy’s eyes. 

“You’re ready to go,” you state. 

“I- if you wanna stay, I can-.”

“No, no. I can see it on your face, Bear,” you interrupt him, giving his hand a tight squeeze. “I’m ready to go too. So… let’s get out of here.”

He nods in response, relieved that you picked up on it. He’d be willing to stay if you’d wanted to stay, and he’s so glad that you’re ready to go. 

You know him so well.

Carmy turns to you, lowering his voice as he asks:

“Think uh… you wanna head back to the hotel… take advantage of the tub while we still can?”

“Sir, are you trying to pick me up?” you ask back, playfully. 

“You’re ridiculous,” he chuckles in your ear. Carmy leans in once again, his voice huskier than before as you feel his hand on the small of your back, pulling you closer against him. 

“And yeah. I am.”

With a wicked smile on your face, you agree to his request, more than willing to head back to the hotel and get naked as soon as possible. In classic you-and-Carmy fashion, you find Syd and Marcus, before Irish Goodbye-ing the rest of the party. The five minute walk back to the hotel feels longer, as you can feel both of your social batteries have reached their lowest point after a full weekend. 

You cannot wait to get to the end of your night, as you both stand in the elevator, but it seems your plans will have to wait a little longer. You and Carmy aren’t the only ones in the elevator. There’s a man with his young son and you sigh impatiently as the kid continues to push each and every button for ever floor. 

“No! Not that one!” the father warns, as the kid’s little hands over the ‘emergency stop’ button. The kid turns to him and his father beckons him back over. He shoots you an apologetic look. 

“So sorry.”

“It’s okay,” you say, trying your best not to sound too annoyed.

The elevator continues to make unnecessary stops, thanks to the child’s antics, as both you and Carmy become increasingly more frustrated. Maybe you’d have the patience if you weren’t at the end of your rope either, but at this point, your feet hurt from the heels you’re wearing, and you cannot wait to take them off. 

Finally, the elevator reaches the man’s floor. He and his child exit the elevator, before turning to you as the doors remain open. He looks to Carmy as his son takes off in the other direction, trying to race his father back to their hotel room. 

“Thank you again for you and your wife’s patience,” he says politely, as he stands a few feet outside of the elevator, trying his best to placate the two of you. 

“Sure,” Carmy mumbles, unconvincingly. 

“I gotta-,” the man says, nodding towards his child, as the elevator doors begin to close. 

You can hardly wait till the doors are fully closed before letting out a laugh at Carmy’s lack of effort. The elevator begins to move again and thankfully there’s only one more stop: yours. It’s quiet, save for the sounds of the elevator moving, when you finally say something. 

“Carmy.”

“What?”

“You didn’t even try to fake it!”

“You didn’t say anything!”

You laugh again, and he scoffs, unable to hide his distaste for the interaction. 

With a shrug he defends himself with, “I’ll like our kids.”

To your delight, the elevator reaches your floor, and as the doors open, it feels like freedom. You follow Carmy down the hallway and to your room, practically flinging the door open and letting out a sigh of relief that you’ve both made it through the evening. Carmy’s flicking on a few lights while you beeline straight to the bathroom so that you can get to the naked and tub part of the evening as quickly as possible.

He’s absolutely right that you should take advantage of the ridiculously large bathtub before you go home tomorrow. 

By the time the tub fills, you’ve already queued up a great playlist, as you and Carmy navigate your setup for the night. You're situated differently this time: your backs resting on opposite sides of the tub, your feet are on the inside, closest to the wall, while his rest on the outside of you, closest to the edge of the tub. 

Carmy is quiet. And it’s not like you’re expecting to have a conversation like last night’s, especially since you’re both drained from three days of social interactions in a row. But there’s something different about tonight’s silence – he’s more pensive than normal –  and you can practically see the gears turning in his head as you go to ask:

“What’s on your mind, babe?”

He waits a beat, the sound of your voice taking him out of his mind and back into reality. 

“I just uh…” he starts, wondering if you’ll think he’s gone mad before he admits, “...can’t stop thinking about what that guy said.”

“What guy?” you inquire. 

“In the elevator,” Carmy replies. 

You shoot him a funny look, because you have no idea what he’s talking about. It’s certainly not the answer you expected either. 

“You know. That he assumed we were married,” Carmy clarifies, his face pink. You’re not sure if it’s from the hot water or the thoughts swimming around in his head. 

“Okay… he’s a… stranger. He was probably too busy keeping his kid in line to be looking for a ring on my finger,” you reply. 

Truthfully, you hadn’t given it much thought at all, and the fact that Carmy’s so hung up on it surprises you.

“I know but…” he trails off, looking away from you for a second. He shrugs, a blush running across his cheeks before asking, “Do you… even want to get married?”

You’re not sure where this is coming from as you stammer out, “I-, uh-, I wouldn’t mind being married to you,” the surprise in your voice evident. 

“That’s great,” he says sarcastically, in regards to your lack of enthusiasm. 

“No! I-, I’m sorry. You kinda just… caught me by surprise is all,” you apologize, seeing the disappointment on his face. You sit up a little, reaching for one of his hands. “Actually, I would give up any and all feminism up right now in order to become Mrs. Carmen Berzatto.” 

You’re only being playful and he shakes his head with, “Yo I’m being serious,” the slightest smile threatening the corners of his mouth. 

“Baby I don’t know if using the word “yo’ counts as an initiator for a serious conversation,” you chuckle. 

“Fuck,” he sighs. 

But he does like the sound of it: Mrs. Carmen Berzatto, and he’s not willing to give up on this conversation just yet. He thinks back to when Natalie called you her sister-in-law, and he wonders why he hadn’t brought this up months ago. 

He waits a beat, before finally saying:

“Let’s get married.”

The words fall out of his mouth with the same kind of casualness he’d use when suggesting you pick up Thai food for dinner on your walk home from the restaurant.

“Okay, Bear,” you agree, easing your way back to your previous position in the tub. You press your back against the wall once more, closing your eyes and allowing yourself to sink a little deeper.

You wait for him to say something. Anything. You almost think he’ll take it back, or tell you he’s joking, because you’re not sure he’s even being serious in the first place. It’s such a casual request for a not-so-casual thing that there’s no way he could….

But he doesn’t say anything, and his silence is more than alarming. Your eyes snap open as you begin to sit up a little taller once again. 

“Carmy, what do you-. I mean, are you being serious?” you ask, your voice softer this time. 

He thinks about it for a second before answering with, “Yeah.”

Your heart is pounding in your chest as you lean towards him, “Like right now? Are you-, like, proposing right now?” 

“Well I don’t have a ring,” he begins, apologetically, which isn’t entirely true. 

He has a ring. But he hadn’t brought it with him to New York thinking there’s no way he’d do it here. Because what if it had gotten lost in transit, or stolen on the subway, so he’d given it to Richie to hold onto while you were out of town. 

“...But yeah. Why not? Let’s get married,” he repeats himself.

And this time, you’re sure he’s serious, leaving you, once again, speechless. 

“Okay, hold on,” you stammer, in sheer and utter shock that this is happening. “Uh… let’s think this through.” 

“Uh oh,” he teases, taking the upper hand. 

“Oh shut up. We haven’t even talked about marriage yet, Carm! I-. There are lots of things we should… you know, discuss,” you explain, justifying your surprise. 

“Like what?” he asks, unconvinced. 

You think about it for a minute. 

“Well for starters… I don’t want to have a huge wedding,” you admit. 

“No. Definitely not,” he agrees, with a sigh of relief. 

It’s not either of your styles. Thank God.

“Something small… maybe?” you suggest, hopeful. 

“Like at the courthouse?” he says. 

“Yeah,” you agree with a smile. “Though I think I’d like to have some sort of celebration after. For all of our friends and family, you know? Even if it’s just like… a dinner or something.”

“Yeah,” Carmy confirms. “That uh-, that sounds nice.”

“And no, you can’t cater it, nor will it be at the restaurant,” you state, making sure that’s clear before he even has the idea.

“I never said-,” Carmy begins to protest.

“But you were thinking it!”

He lets out a short laugh, shaking his head, because you know him too well. 

“Do we invite your mom?” you ask, hesitantly. 

He shoots you a look – the kind of look that says ‘you’ve got to be kidding me.’

“Carmy, she’s going to want to be there,” you insist. 

You know they don’t have the best relationship, but you know it would be wrong not to. 

“Do we have to?”

“I… think so.”

“Fine. But Mom gets invited to the after party. That’s it,” he negotiates firmly. 

“Yeah, okay,” you agree. 

You’re glad that’s settled. 

“Should I get you a ring?” he asks you. He doesn’t want to spoil the surprise – that he already has a ring for you. And since the conversation seems so practical, he takes it as an opportunity to set you up for a surprise. 

It’s not like you’ve pulled a few over on him in the past few years. No, definitely not.

“I mean, probably eventually,” you reply plainly. “But the ring’s not what’s important to me.”

“Yeah?”

“I’ll take you over a ring any day, babe.”

He smiles, unsure of how he got so lucky. 

“Should I get you one?” you ask, since you’re on the topic. 

“What?”

“A ring.”

“Oh,” Carmy sounds, a little surprised by the question. He thinks about it for a second. There was no harm in skipping straight to wearing wedding bands, was there? 

“Maybe just one of those bands made out of silicone… you know. That I can wear in the restaurant.”

“Sounds like something I can work with,” you smile, nodding your head with a sense of accomplishment. 

“So it’s settled then. We’re getting married,” you state casually. It’s almost so casual that it’s painful as you giggle. 

“Yeah,” he answers with a stupid, lovesick grin on his face. 

“Should we shake on it?” you ask, and you’re only half-joking.

He shakes his head, grabbing your hands and pulling you closer to him in the bath tub, “How did I end up with such a silly fiance?”

Fiance. 

It’s the first time you’re hearing it out loud, and you like the way the word sounds coming from him. 

“And no, we will not be shaking on it,” Carmy continues, leaning in towards you as he sits up straight. “I can think of a lot more things we could do to consummate this decision.”

You raise an eyebrow, giggling as you lean in towards him, moving slowly through the water.

“In that case, I would love for you to show me,” you say, your voice soft as your lips are mere inches away from his. 

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

read: chapter four

taglist: @allthefandomstogether @gaysludge @sobshoney @harrysmatcha @starbritestarlite @tpwkkmila @cool-girl-is-hot @nunya7394 @galaxyprincess51-blog @carmensberzattos

[impossiblesuitcase]

Two Blue Ribbons

“As we await the upcoming wedding of Emperor Kaito and Ambassador Linh-Blackburn, many are questioning the credibility of their relationship. As we know, the couple claims that their romantic connection began before either of them knew that Linh Cinder was actually Princess Selene. Seriously, is anyone buying this? The emperor just happened to fall in love with the girl that happened to be Princess Selene and—”

MUTE FEED. 

Cinder groaned into her fist. 

A week before her wedding, the public were drunk on anticipation. It was—without exaggeration—the only thing in the newsfeeds, as they all predicted the scale of the celebrations, and the colour of the bride’s dress, and would the handsome celebrity Carswell Thorne be officiating the ceremony as he claimed?

Cinder could handle that kind of speculation, even when it was far-fetched. (And no, Thorne would not be officiating…)

What irritated her was the other rumours—claims that she was still manipulating Kai, or that it was a ploy to conquer Earth in the bloodied footsteps of her aunt. Some said she was marrying him for money. Others that she regretted abdicating the Lunar throne and wished to regain power.

She slumped against the wall of her bare, humid sitting room, ignoring the critical expression of the muted host.

The silence was priceless. Even with the wedding prepared down to the exact millisecond she would walk the aisle, she had not been afforded rest. There was still her ensuing coronation as empress, and her first tour of the Commonwealth, and her first Opening of State Cabinet, and her first Annual Peace Ball, even when that was well over ten months away. Her only silent moments, it seemed, were in sleep.

“And why is the blushing bride looking so glum?”

Cinder lifted her head as Kai entered with his loud but assuring presence.

When it came to him, silence was overrated.

“I can’t blush, so I don’t know which bride you’re talking about,” she feigned. “Try next door.”

That received a pfft. His thin grey button-up and linen slacks were rumbled from a long day of formality, yet he would still look professional if it weren’t for the impish curl of his lips. “No, I’ve definitely got the right one. My soon-to-be wife is sarcastic whenever she can be.”

Cinder smiled and patted the floor next to her. 

Kai cantered over as carefree as a duck in water. Her swirling emotions made her more like an ant in an avalanche. It was palpable in the air, judging by the delicate way he touched her back and settled against her side.

“How do you feel?”

She stared at the blank wall ahead.  “Like I’m forgetting something.”

“Ceremony, reception, catering, outfits.” He listed the items off his fingers. “Anything else?”

When you arrive, do not greet the crowds until the train of your dress has completely left the hover. Pause at the chrysanthemum emblem on the floor until you hear music, then begin to walk—right foot, left, take a step every two seconds. The emperor will repeat his vows first. You must repeat his full name, not just Kai. Don’t call him Kai. “That’s what I’m not sure of.”

He poked her shoulder, sounding pleased. “Well, the honeymoon is three weeks long—just enough time for you to remember when we’re on the other side of the world and it doesn’t matter at all.”

“You’re probably right.”

“I am definitely right. As I am about most things.” 

She sent a challenging look. “Oh?”

“I’m psychic,” he revealed, wiggling his eyebrows.

A dead-pan.

“It’s true! I already sensed you’d be fretting over something, so I shall provide you insurance.” Miming pulling glasses from his pocket and setting them on his nose, Kai cleared his throat and began: “The wedding is completely, truly over-planned. The crew will arrive three days prior. I confirmed all the honeymoon bookings. And I’ve already started unpacking your boxes into our suite.”

Cinder frowned. “I thought we were gonna do that together?”

He lowered his ‘glasses’ to stroke his chin mischievously, “You know, that probably would have been a good idea. Then I could blame you for all the things I broke.”

She jerked away. “You broke my stuff?!”

“No.”

“Then why would you—”

The troublemaker cackled. Ruffled her hair. “I didn’t expect you to be so easy to rile up.”

Why the little—

Her shoulder knocked into his, her pride smarting. “Shut up, I’ve been stressed.”

“The thought of marrying me must be overwhelming.”

“More like embarrassing,” she mumbled.

The laughter set to burst in his chest truncated. His smile tightened as he studied her, scrutiny forming in his eyes.

“So why are you here?” she diverted quickly. “Didn’t you have a meeting with Tashmi-jie?”

The hesitancy lingered, but he appeared to forestall his interrogation. It took him a moment to follow her inquiry. “She wanted to run over the ceremony, but I remembered the one thing we haven’t rehearsed properly yet.” Reaching into his pocket, Kai produced two thick ribbons, midnight blue in colour. “How good are you at tying knots?”

“The ribbons?” Cinder questioned, sceptical, but still took one when handed to her. “Isn’t it, like, taboo?”

Kai posed a finger over his lips and shhhed.

Royal Earthen tradition dictated that the bride and groom would tie a ribbon around each other’s wrists which the officiant would then tie together. It symbolised the unification of the pair as one person, one heart, one purpose. As most traditions went, there were needless superstitions surrounding it, here being that the betrothed couple was not allowed to tie the ribbons together before the ceremony. Doing so would supposedly diminish the significance of the act. They skipped this part at the rehearsal.

Her fingers pulled at the deceptively sturdy silk. “Does a knot require practice?” 

He lifted her hand. “You’d be surprised how difficult the simplest tasks become under the watchful eyes of billions of people.”

She almost grimaced. 

Billions of people would be watching. Judging. Scrutinising. Their wedding would be the most defining, incontestable proof of their love. She wanted the world to know, to witness it, but it was exhausting being watched under a microscope all the time.

Kai cradled her cyborg hand gingerly as he manoeuvred the fabric. Deftly, gently. Too gently.

“It needs to be tighter.”

“I don’t want to hurt you.”

“Kai.”

Once he’d let go, she tilted her hand vertically. The ribbon pirouetted down her fingers. “Metal and silk,” she reminded him.

He sighed and started again, tying it firmly. “Can you feel that?”

“Nope. No nerve endings.”

Though it did not slip off this time, Kai was not content. Tugging, tugging, tighter and tighter…and the ribbon’s edge slipped right into the crack of her wrist joint. 

“I do need that hand,” she warned.

His eyes bulged, releasing her hand like he’d dropped a grand piano on it. Cinder just laughed and pulled the ribbon away.

 “Here, I’ll try.” She flipped his palm over, roughly tying a knot like she used to tie cords in her booth.

“Hey, I have actual blood circulation here!”

“Sorry,” she hissed. Alas, a tourniquet didn’t quite send the message of lifelong love. Maybe lifelong imprisonment. 

She untied it and retried, taking great care to move slowly. So slow that the silk lost traction on her metal fingers and flopped into her lap.

“Not so easy, huh?”

Gritting her teeth, Cinder attempted it again. Once. Twice. Thrice. Each time, it glided right past the metal.

“Okay, tie it loose first, and then pull on the ends,” he guided calmly.

She retied it loosely.

“Good,” he commended. “Now pull.”

Inhaling to prepare, she seized both ends, secured in the metal, and yanked. 

The ribbon unravelled entirely and fluttered to the floor.

“You forgot a second loop.”

Cinder threw up her hands. “Nope! I’m done!”

Kai patted her arm consolingly. He picked up the traitorous ribbon, folded it over his knuckles for a moment then shifted in place, stilted against the stiff wall. “So why are we on the floor?”

Cinder settled her head on his shoulder, only catching a glimpse of his nose and jaw from this angle, then looked around the sitting room. “This doesn’t really feel like mine anymore.”

The room was a part of her own quarters, where she’d lived for the past year. Most of her personal belongings had been moved to Kai’s wing, where she would live in a week’s time. With only the furniture, carpet and drapes it came with, this felt like a guest suite. 

“You’ll be in our home soon. You’re going to love it; we’ll play music while we cook dinner and slow dance in the kitchen, everyday.”

“You’ll love it. Not all of us are brilliant dancers.”

“You will, here—” He pocketed the ribbon, grasped her wrists and pulled her upright. “Feed,” he called, ignoring her groan, “play a walt—”

“—most controversial part of this wedding is the ceremony itself. The Ambassador is always preaching about reducing poverty and strengthening our weak economy and yet this wedding is going to cost millions of univs—”

“Mute feed.” His nose curled. “They’re all being ridiculous.”

“People believe them.”

“Not everyone.”

“Enough,” she whispered.

His scowl vanished, replaced with attentiveness and the words he’d held back before, “What’s wrong, love?”

She sighed and plucked the ribbon from his back pocket. Lifted his wrist and tied it. Methodically. Delicately. It was still a little too snug.

“Cinder?”

A glance at the feed, now broadcasting pan shots of the palace. 

He followed her gaze, followed her frown, then bound her up in his arms.

“I’m so happy, Kai. To be getting married to you, you know I am,” she said. “And the last months planning this with you, finally being with you in person, it’s the happiest I’ve ever been in my life,” It was true, even if she hadn’t known until that very spoken oath. “It’s our wedding and our day…but…” Her voice warbled, catching on that blasted conjunction. “I’m getting tired of being watched.”

She sniffed, feeling stupid for pitying herself. They were born into this; prince or emperor, queen or empress, they would be plastered over the tabloids. She would have hundreds of thousands of millions of search results. Their relationship would span over multiple sections of their net profiles, all cited to ‘inside sources’ and grainy paparazzi photos.

Scratch the ant. She was a fly, frantically escaping a trillion prying fly squatters.

“I’m just tired.”

Kai began to rock her, a gentle ocean wave lapping up the sides of the boat. 

“Do you know why I’m marrying you?” he murmured. 

“Oh, tax purposes, mostly,” she testified. “I’m only marrying you to get Earthen citizenship.”

“What did I say about the sarcasm?”

A smile reached her despite her bubbling anxiety. “I don’t need a glamour to play mind tricks on you, my beloved.”

He was rolling his eyes internally, she knew. “I know perfectly well that our relationship causes scandals and rumours and all that. But I don’t care, because you, and my love for you, is more important to me than my reputation. That’s why I’m marrying you. And you’re going to walk down the aisle as the most beautiful woman in the room—”

“That’ll be Winter.”

“The most beautiful woman in the room,” he told her, “and the public won’t matter. It’s not about them. If my cabinet wouldn’t kill me for it, we would elope and have takeaway for our reception. Because what matters is us, and our marriage and our love. That’s all.”

She tucked her head under his chin, ensconced in his warmth, sequestered from the world. Thinking, thinking.

To tie the ribbons together, a third person was needed. A person who wouldn’t really know the ins and outs of their relationship, the intricacies of their love.

“I have an idea.”

His hand was still wrapped with her too-tight attempt. Cinder darted back to the wall, seizing the matching ribbon and held out her wrist. Kai came over and got to work.

Then, she took the end of his ribbon with her free hand, and gestured for him to take hers. He gathered her plan without a word, though, thinking about it, he was supposedly ‘psychic.’ Working together—his hand forming the loop, her hand threading through—a limp but effective knot bound them as one.

Kai gave it a pull and nodded, satisfied with its resilience. “How’d I end up handcuffed to a criminal?” 

“And who was the one that arrested me?” Cinder folded her arms instinctually, drawing him flush to her chest.

He grinned, chin to her nose. “Me. But not before I forced you”—finding her waist, setting her arms horizontal—“to dance!”

Laughter was the musical accompaniment to sloppy flailing and attempts to not trip over the coffee table. He spun her under his arm, sending her staggering right into his heaving chest. 

“You may trip the bride,” she giggled.

“Kiss,” he corrected, and did just so.

The graceless floundering transformed from a waltz to a tango to a conga line. They stopped before irish dancing.

Kai kissed her hair and her sweaty temple and swayed them back and forth. She went to tie her arms around his neck but felt her hands jolt. 

Warm fingers laced through hers. “We’re stuck together.”

“As we should be.” 

They kept dancing, because nothing was stopping them, and they kept loving each other, because no one could stop them.

Perhaps what she was forgetting was that they would be okay.

“I did break your pliers, though.”

“Kai!”

Notes

Pliers are hard to break. Give me your theories on how baby boy stuffed up in the notes.

If you want to be tagged, let me know!

@cindersassasin @hayleblackburn @spherical-empirical @salt-warrior @just2bubbly @gingerale2017 @zephyr-thedragon @holdmysparks @oceanspray5 @icarusignite @kaider-is-my-otp @slmkaider @luna-maximoff-22 @cosmicnovaflare @kaixiety @snozkat @imamirrorball4

[verdantcrimson]

Heaven and Earth / Creation of Heaven and Earth - 7

(Unproofread)

Prev | Chapter List | Next

[After school that same day, in the ES reception room.]

Keito: Now, I’ll summarize the issue at hand for Anzu, who probably doesn’t understand what is happening very well.

Keito: We, AKATSUKI, have been asked to host a long-running show ‘Rumbling Heaven and Earth’, that any history buff worth their salt knows about.

Kuro: By the way, little miss Anzu, have ya ever heard of ‘Rumbling Heaven and Earth’? Ya haven’t, right?

Keito: Quit trying to increase the number of your brethren in ignorance.

Souma: Fufu. You say you have yet to properly sit down and watch it, but you know of its name? Well, it does appear understandably difficult and complex to become invested in.

Souma: I too have beckoned for my younger brother to “come and watch” with me, but he does not spare a glance.

Kuro: Haha, wouldn’t it be more fun for a growin’ boy to move his body?

Keito: Back to what I was saying earlier. We’ve been entrusted with this major role, but a problem has cropped up.

Kuro: The issue is that I’m an idiot.

Keito: I’ve come up with a workaround for that bit, so it’s no longer an issue.

Souma: Hasumi-dono is far too strict in his refusal to retort with the simpler, “You aren’t an idiot,” phrase. ~♪

Keito: You’re being annoying. Also, Kiryu isn’t an idiot, generally speaking, he just can’t study. There’s a difference.

Keito: The problem I was referring to, of course, is the ‘Three Sages.’

Keito: These ‘Three Sages’ are authorities in the field for the countless historians that have supported ‘Rumbling Heaven and Earth’ throughout the years. Without their cooperation, this show just wouldn’t work.

Souma: Umu. We are not academics, but ‘aidoru’, for which reason we so desperately require the assistance of such experts.

Keito: Exactly. However, for better or worse, these exalted scholars were quite unique—

Keito: They had their own set of conditions for us to follow. Though it seemed like they’d be cooperative if we fulfilled them,

Keito: All of these conditions are ill-matched, and in theory, it seems impossible to fulfill all of them.

Keito: Now, we need to figure out what to do. Do you understand now, Anzu?

Kuro: No really, what’re we supposed t’do…? Both Hideyoshi-sensei and Nobunaga-sensei said the same thing, come to think of it. Turns out ‘Rumbling Heaven and Earth’ is a total landmine of a job after all.

Kuro: We’re just dumbasses that jumped for joy, and fell right into a trap.

Souma: Now Kiryu-dono, let us try and think of this the other way around. I believe that it may be precisely because we are without a proven record of accomplishments unlike the ‘beterans’ of our agency, that the responsibility of handling such a precarious case has been entrusted to us young people.

Keito: I agree with Kanzaki’s view on this.

Kuro: Why’re you two just freakishly in sync these days!? You ‘good at studyin’’ folks are conspirin’ together, aren’tcha? Little miss, you’re on my side though, right? Won’t ya come to the ‘can’t study for shit’ side…?

Keito: Don’t act like a baby to gain Anzu’s sympathy, Kiryu… But seriously, what side would you take, Anzu? I’ve always thought that you were sincere, and a hard worker, so your grades must be good, right?

Souma: Hmm. Anzu-dono is currently enrolled in the ‘purodyuusu’ course, so I cannot say for certain, however, the year prior, her grades were of a generally average nature. They were neither good nor bad.

Kuro: If ya studied super hard and still got an average grade, that must mean you must’ve been a pretty terrible student in the past.

Keito: Don’t try to recruit fellow bad students. Quit trying to run from reality, Kiryu. It’d be best if you tried to be reborn as a wiser version of yourself.

Kuro: Easy for you to say, but y’know… I can’t change that fast. I mean, I worked real hard to finally be reborn at the level I am right now.

Keito: Yes. I acknowledge your hard work.

Keito: Effort will never betray a person. People are only ever betrayed by people.

Souma: Those are meaningful words. Unfailingly, problems can be attributed to people.

Keito: That applies to our current predicament as well. What should we do, Anzu?

Keito: I would like to hear your opinion.

Kuro: Careful now, little miss. If ya answer with somethin’ strange, Hasumi’s gonna blow his lid.

Keito: Stop fooling around. If Anzu had been even a little less self-assertive of a person, she would’ve shriveled up by now.

Keito: —Hm, I see. Decide on what our priorities are, huh?

Keito: It’s better to be selective, and decide on what you want to accomplish, rather than try to accomplish everything and risk ending up with nothing.

Keito: That sounds fair. Nothing good comes from being greedy.

Keito: And naturally, what’s most important to us is the progress of AKATSUKI.

Kuro: As an idol, ya should’ve answered with somethin’ more like “the smiles of our fans.”

Keito: If we’re very successful and sparkle brightly, our fans will be pleased and smile anyways, right?

Keito: We would like to bolster our reputation by hosting ‘Rumbling Heaven and Earth.’ However, in order for the show to be a success, we need the cooperation of the ‘Three Sages.’

Keito: However, in order to get them to cooperate with us, we have to meet their conditions—

Keito: …I’m just repeating myself. What I’m trying to say is that the order of priorities is (1) AKATSUKI’s progression, (2) Getting ‘Rumbling Heaven and Earth’ approved, and (3) the feelings of the ‘Three Sages.

Keito: In the most extreme case, even if we are unable to achieve (2) or (3), accomplishing just (1) would be fine.

Keito: … Hm? What is it, Anzu?

Keito: If you have something to add, don’t be afraid to say it. That is why I called you here, after all.

Keito: I see… That sounds drastic, but I guess it’s technically possible.

Keito: It’s not like we’d be punished for trying. Oi Kiryu, Kanzaki—

Keito: Let’s prepare whatever documents and materials we’ll need by tomorrow.

Keito: As per Anzu’s suggestion, we’ll make a trial version of ‘Rumbling Heaven and Earth’ on our own.

Prev | Chapter List | Next

[pure-ablution]

I just got engaged. Now what?

As I think pretty much all of my 28 beloved followers know, Alajos and I got engaged last month. I’ve been requested to make a post about what I’m planning on doing over the next few months in the run-up to our wedding, and this is going to be my very best attempt at that. I’ve had this ring for less than a full calendar month at this point, so I’m no expert on the matter and I’d actually be really grateful if any other engaged or married girls out there were to chime in with their own advice! But this is what I’m working on doing and scheduling right now, and it’s a combination of advice from my friends and relatives who have been engaged/married for much longer than me, and conversations and decisions had jointly with my darling fiancé.

First of all, and maybe most superficially, there’s the actual wedding to be sorted out. I have a nice little timeline checklist of things to arrange, but I’ll just run through the main bits now, else I’ll be writing for hours and boring everyone totally senseless! Alajos and I are going to have a traditional Latin wedding Mass and ceremony at his family’s parish in Austria, and the first thing we did after he proposed (after we finished crying and excitedly telephoning everyone we could possibly think of!) was to contact the church and book the date of the wedding. This was actually really important to do as soon as possible for us, because we planned to participate in the rite of betrothal soon after proposal, and that requires an already-set wedding date. We paid the church a visit and met with everyone there, and spent a long time discussing our plans for the wedding itself. In some respects, we have it quite easy, because with the wedding itself being held in Alajos’ family’s parish and the reception at the home estate there, there’s no real venue and catering difficulties for us. Still, we’ll need to plan out exactly how we’re going to transport and host our guests for the duration of the wedding. We’re fortunate enough to be able to pay for our guests who will need to travel a long way for us, and I’m really glad that we can do that and make sure that everyone we love will be able to attend without worry, but the logistics will definitely need to be sorted and finalised properly over the next few months. Also, I’m anxious to give our two families more of a chance to get to know each other before the wedding, and hopefully I’ll be able to coordinate ample opportunity to make that happen soon!

Of course, I think that every soon-to-be bride is worried about how she’ll look on her big day, and I definitely feel it! I’m going to have my braces removed next month, when I’m back in England, and I’m going to book my rhinoplasty for January, so that I’ll have ample time to recover and for swelling to go down before the wedding—for any engaged girls planning surgeries, I’d really recommend no later than 6 months before the wedding day! I’m going to get my lip filler re-done in Seoul whilst I’m in Asia over Christmas, I have a luxury skincare regime planned in stages over the next few months, and I’ve already booked my hair and makeup, and I’ll have several discussions and rehearsals with the artists and stylists before the day itself. I’m going to have my wedding dress made up by my very trusted seamstress, and I’ve booked that in with her already and bought the shoes and underwear I know I’ll be wearing on the day before I go for my first fitting. It’s so, so important to go to fittings with your underwear and shoes already sorted, otherwise you’re just wasting your seamstress’ time!

Aside from the wedding itself, though, I’m focusing mostly on the idea of marriage as a complete whole. The Catholic Church places a huge emphasis on checking and resolving potential stumbling-blocks in a relationship before the point of marriage, because, quite sensibly (in my opinion), it wants to minimise the chance of divorce. When I get back to England, we’re going to be doing a marriage preparation course with our church, and I’m actually really looking forward to it—Alajos has already picked up the workbooks that we’re going to be using, and from the photos he’s sent me, they’re very sensible and focus a lot on secular questions and topics which I think would be beneficial for any couple to consider. Before marrying anyone, I really do think that you need to discuss everything under the sun, and although Alajos and I have talked about almost everything there is to talk about, and several times over at that, there’s something very reassuring and something intimate about doing an actual course together and filling in a workbook in writing, I think. We’re also going to be mentored by two lovely married couples—one close to our age, and one who have been married for a long, long time—and, of course, by our reverend, too. I know I’ll spend a lot of time thinking, praying, and talking seriously with Alajos over the next few months; I’m aware that this is the end of a part of my life, and the beginning of another, and it feels important to me that I take the time to reflect on things and embrace the transition for what it is.

There’s a lot of paperwork that comes in the run-up to marriage, and it’s important to stay on top of it and not feel overwhelmed or confused. I think the most crucial thing to discuss is the prenuptial agreement. Prenups get a bad rep, but I fully agree with them, when they are done right. Of course, you don’t want to think about the prospect of divorce, but much like you wouldn’t buy a house without insurance (even though you don’t want to think about it burning down!), you also really shouldn’t get married without a prenup. It’s an opportunity to discuss and decide on the worst at a time when you love and care for one another deeply, rather than when you’re feeling bitter and horrid after a difficult marriage and divorce. If either of you have any family money, then a prenup is basically a given, so you need to make sure that both of you are represented by very good and capable lawyers. If he loves you, he shouldn't ever be trying to screw you over. Alajos has offered to pay for my lawyer as well as his own, and I’m strongly considering it, although I think we’ll decide on that for certain when we’re back in England together. In the same vein as prenups: make sure that you’re both straight on things like mahr or any other bridewealth, dowry/dower, pin money, and your will and testament, too. All of these things can, and should, be done and sorted with excellent lawyers and love in your hearts, and the engagement period is a perfect time to do that.

This is all the important stuff I can think of off the top of my head, but I’m always happy to gush about my wedding (and future husband) to anyone who even looks as though they might possibly be listening, so please do just ask if there’s anything else you’d like to know! If you have any advice yourself, as I said, I’d be really very grateful if you were to share it—I’m really very new at this whole engagement thing and I know I’m not going to be any good at it just yet!

[aeide-thea]

One of the first voices millions of commuting New Yorkers hear each morning is the measured tone of former traffic reporter Bernie Wagenblast reminding them to stand away from the platform edge. Wagenblast, AKA “the voice of New York”, reminds AirTrain passengers at JFK or Newark that the doors are closing, and hosts a podcast about infrastructure, including episodes on Ohio’s bridges and wildlife crossings in Oregon. But that […] voice, honed by years of practice to impart clarity and authority but not alarm, is changing. Earlier this year, Wagenblast, 66, went on the radio to present herself publicly as a transgender woman, and has this month been participating in US Pride celebrations with gusto, including the march at Asbury Park on the Jersey shore. Wagenblast is still Bernie, but that’s now derived from Bernadette. […] She has had support from the people she knows, even casually. The reception from her friends from Catholic university has been similarly supportive, and she’s working with her high school classmates for their 50th reunion without issue. “It’s wonderful,” she says. “Times have changed.” Hateful comments have only come from people who do not know her, she says. Her relationships with female associates, she says, have also benefited from her public presentation. “They’re comfortable and accept me and it’s been one of the great pleasures.” […] One of the side-effects of a public transition is, she hopes, to give encouragement to those who are still not out. Each time somebody in the subway station hears her voice, she says, they will know that LGBTQ people are part of everyday life. “We’re not just on TV or people you read about that are somewhere else but an intricate part of day-to-day living. I think that can be very powerful.”

[meret118]

Across private receptions, delegate breakfasts and impromptu interviews in the convention hall this week, several elected officials serving as surrogates for Harris cautioned party activists not to grow complacent in their renewed sense of optimism about Democrats’ electoral prospects.

Maura Healey, the governor of Massachusetts, channeled Walz in using sports metaphors to explain the stakes: “We have got to play like we’re 10 points behind, because while things have improved, we have a long way to go,” the former professional basketball player said at a reception she hosted Tuesday at Chicago Winery. “We know what the margins are. We know how small they are.”

----

EVERY VOTE COUNTS! Registration and mail in ballot application deadlines are just around the corner, and early voting starts next month in many states.

[broadway-stuck]

OPEN ROLES - 7/25/24

Hey guys! glamourAficionado here! Thank you again for the amazing SAHcon reception! We had a blast and a barrel of laughs :)

Right now we’re hosting auditions for John Egbert, Gamzee Makara, Mixers, Lyricists, and Artists!

Cast member auditions should be acapella, at least 1 minute long to showcase your range.

Mixer auditions should showcase your ability to combine instrumental tracks with vocals. You must show proper timing as well as the ability to balance volumes between instrumental and vocal tracks. These can be full length songs or snippets over 1 minute.

For artists, auditions should be two (2) of your art pieces. If the work passes the initial review process, we will then send for a callback in the form of a quick sketch/mock-up of track art.

For lyricists, auditions should be two (2) parodies of songs you've made, along with the name of the original song for comparison. They do not need to be Homestuck related. If they pass the review process, we will ask you to rewrite the first verse & chorus of a song from a pre-determined list as a callback.

All auditions are to be sent to broadwaystuckmods@gmail.com and titled with what you’re auditioning for. You must be 18+ to submit an audition. Any questions regarding the process can be sent to that same email or to our ask box!

Happy auditioning!! <3

[franklyshipping]

Tough Tootsies ~ A Markiplier Ego Fanfic

Here we have another fabulous anon prompt featuring our favourite gameshow host, but this time Yancy is by his side! LET'S DO THIS!

TAGGING: @bimlee-trimmer and @bim-trimler

Yancy was a tough guy, a cool guy. He was the sort of guy who, thanks to his days behind bars, had learned how to keep a straight face when things got nerve-wracking or intimidating. However, if you looked in his eyes long enough, you’d notice the flicker of nerves as he stood in the reception of the white-marble spa that Bim had brought him to. The luxury spa experience was something Bim had actually bought Yancy for Christmas, attempting to encourage him to relax and see the value of “me time” – but in true busy Yancy fashion he hadn’t found time to use it in-between writing, choreographing and practising new songs and music video shoots for his first album of music (the working title was Jailbreak and all the egos, Bim especially, thought it was iconic). So here Yancy was, having been persuaded thanks to Bim offering his company, and soon they were all signed in and heading to get to their first stop: free goodies.

‘So uh, what’s exactly gonna be done to us?’

‘Oh we’re getting the best treatments!’

Bim replied, grinning as the pair wandered through and started getting changed into their fancy, thick robes and slippers – which they got to keep no less! Bim’s attire was lilac whilst Yancy’s were navy, and Yancy smiled as he realised Bim must have called ahead to tell them his favourite colour.

‘First up is a hot stone massage, that’s the thing that’ll settle you into the spa day mood. Then we’ll have mud face masks, face, neck and scalp massages, and finish off with a full pedicure! You’re going to want a spa break every weekend after today, trust me!’

Bim nudged him with a wink and Yancy snorted, shaking his head fondly as they headed into the first room. Yancy was nervous about the day, mainly with regards to having strangers getting up close and personal with him. If Bim weren’t here with him he likely wouldn’t have had the confidence to give it a try… but as the treatments came by, it was far less invasive than Yancy was expecting. Everyone was so relaxed and chatty, always checking in on his comfort, telling him what they were going to do before he felt any touch – and of course Bim knew all the personnel and kept awkward silences at bay with gossip and banter.

Yancy found himself especially enjoying the gossip, especially when it came to his wild experiences from prison, which all the staff were excited to hear rather than unnerved! Yancy got so relaxed at one point that he fell right asleep during the scalp massage, having a deep twenty minute power nap which somehow refreshed him like a full night’s sleep – soon Yancy wasn’t just comfortable, he was enjoying every second of the experience. Also needless to say, he felt tensions unwinding in him that he hadn’t realised he had!

Eventually they got settled into comfy leather seats ready for the full pedicure treatment, and naturally Bim had even convinced him to pick a nail colour – Yancy went for a matte navy blue, whilst Bim chose a metallic violet. Yancy was all set and ready to relax again, even closing his eyes in anticipation… meaning he missed the cheeky grins Bim shared with the technicians. There was mischief afoot, no pun intended. In Bim’s view Yancy had been overworking himself and not only deserved relaxation, but a chance to let loose… to laugh. And the previous treatments had put him beautifully off guard.

Yancy sighed as he felt his feet gently get washed in warm water and carefully patted dry, and he could feel another nap coming on… until he felt the warm pumice stone. His foot was held still as the pumice stone’s fine grained surface rubbed against the ball of his foot. It wasn’t uncomfortable, certainly not painful… but it tickled like hell. Yancy’s breath hitched as his gripped his arm rests, glancing to Bim beside him. Bim however was perfectly relaxed, and took another sip of his champagne as he sighed.

‘So, is it safe to say I’ve converted you to the spa lifestyle Yance?’

Yancy gaped for a moment, feeling a giggle building in his chest. He held it in, clearing his throat as he smiled at his friend – he couldn’t burst into giggles here, it would be the most embarrassing thing ever! He took a deep breath, resolving not to react and make a scene.

‘Mhm oh yeheah, yeah for sure.’

‘I mean, I get why you were anxious of course, it’s perfectly understandable to not want strangers touching you all over the place. But everyone here honestly takes the word ‘professional’ and goes above and beyond don’t you think?’

‘O-Oh mhm, mhm yep.’

Yancy replied, gritting his teeth as he felt the rubbing go on and on and on. Somehow it was worse than feathers or nails, even worse than the pointiest pen! It was like his deepest ticklish nerves weren’t safe, each rub sending jolts and tingles that just made him want to squeal and kick his feet! But he couldn’t, and felt his face go a bit pink from his efforts as his technician smiled at Bim’s compliments.

‘You’re too kind Mr Trimmer.’

The pumice stone left his foot and Yancy let out a quiet breath of relief, until he felt it being applied to his other foot. He could feel his toes twitching as he casually pressed his knuckles to his mouth, his eyes looking at anything else but his feet. How the hell could something tickle this much, and how was Bim so chill?! He was just as ticklish as Yancy, or at least that’s what Yancy had always thought. It was the public factor that made this so torturous. Being tickled at home wasn’t half as embarrassing as this… oh God if he laughed, would he get kicked out?!

Then, he almost did. He let out a sudden squeak and shuddered when he felt the pumice stone move to his heel. He missed the amused look between Bim and the technician, and the technician put on a concerned look.

‘Oh I’m sorry, is that spot tender?’

Yancy cleared his throat, smiling softly as he straightened in his seat. He knew he was bright pink.

‘Ah, no I uh, just got a chill.’

Bim hid a snicker behind his champagne glass as the technician smiled, keeping her composure as she replied.

‘Oh, your seat has a heating feature if you’d like to use it! If you lift up the left arm rest you’ll find all the buttons.’

She then put the pumice stone aside and Yancy smiled gratefully, thinking he was in the clear. He decided he deserved to feel toasty after all that, and snorted when Bim gasped dramatically next to him as he opened his own arm rest.

‘Oh my GOD I can’t believe I forgot about that!’

Yancy rolled his eyes fondly as Bim excitedly explored all the buttons, including the reclining and massage functions. Yancy could feel the tingles in his feet fading into relaxation, so much so he got ready to tease Bim for getting so excited. But then he felt the oil. His breath hitched as he felt it trickle over his feet and toes, filling the space with a soft, floral scent, and his jaw clenched as he felt it being massaged into his skin. Oh. God.

‘U-Uh… whahat–ah, what’s the oil f-for?’

‘Oh it’s to help revitalise your skin, and it’ll stop your feet drying out. The scent is lavender, is that alright?’

‘Yehep, mhm yep, yep ahall good…’

Yancy nodded, and now had no choice but to mask his little giggles with light coughs and clearing his throat. This did not escape the technicians or Bim’s notice, but they naturally pretended otherwise to keep the game going. Bim even sighed lightly with a grin.

‘Ahh, the lavender one is my favourite, it’s just so relaxing isn’t it Yance?’

Yancy nodded, and this time couldn’t keep his eyes off the massage as fingers moved up from his arches, getting closer and closer to his toes. He tried to reason that he could take it, that the massage wasn’t as bad as the pumice stone… but when those slick fingertips started rubbing his toes he held his breath. But in the end, it was no use. It was a tweak to his pinky toe after a few mere seconds that made him explode into his long awaited laughter.

‘SHIHIT!’

To Yancy’s utter horror he heard the technician giggle as Bim gasped, his grin turning devious as he clapped his hands together.

‘Aww there’s the ticklish guy I know! I gotta say you held out longer than I thought you would!’

Yancy’s eyes went wide with confusion… and then the realisation hit him. It was a set up. A goddamn tickly set up! Before he could even think to get up, Bim leaned over and pinned him snugly against his seat, capturing his arms as he chuckled at him. What’s more… the massage didn’t stop.

‘WHAHAHAT THE HEHECK?!’

He kept laughing at varying pitches as the pads of his toes were gently rubbed, but occasionally he would feel the flutter of nail tips right under his toes too – that got him squealing, despite his best efforts, complete with voice cracks too. His cheeks were crimson with embarrassment as he squirmed about. How could he not have seen this coming? Bim was notoriously a mischievous little shit, he should have known there was something going on!

‘Aww look at those red cheeks, is someone flustered?’

Yancy snorted, and failed in his attempt to glare at Bim as he kept trying to wriggle free. His toes were constantly scrunching as he laughed and laughed and laughed, before ending up hiding his face against Bim’s shoulder in defeat.

‘YOHOHOU’RE AHA JAHAHACKASS!’

Bim gasped in mock offense, and tickled under his chin lightly as he retorted.

‘Am not! I just wanted to see a smile on that handsome face! Don’t you feel lighter and more relaxed?’

‘NAHAHAT RIHIHIGHT NOHOHOW!’

Bim and the technician’s laughed at his exclamation as Yancy kept his face hidden, his embarrassment hitting its peak… because admittedly the tickles were wonderful. Different tickles could be wonderful in different ways, and for Yancy slow, tender tickling at his worst spot like this was a truly heavenly sort of hell. He felt so warm and giddy and happy inside as the minutes went by, each toes given lashings of attention with rubs and flutters which seemed unending! And naturally Bim couldn’t help but keep on teasing him.

‘Listen to that laugh! You look like you’re having lots of fun, I think we should make this a regular appointment for your ticklish toes.’

Yancy’s blush crept up to his ears, and he let out a loud yelp when he felt the tickles stray in-between his poor sensitive toes. He exploded with babbles as his whole body jolted, and he reached his limit.

‘AHH–ALRIGHT ALRIHIHIGHT S-STAHAHAHAP!’

Bim giggled fondly, and the technician immediately stopped as she and her colleague giggled with huge grins on their faces, and even in his breathless state Yancy could see they weren’t making fun of him; their looks were just as fond as Bim’s. He panted softly as they moved away to prepare the next treatment, and his eyes fluttered shut as he stayed resting against Bim’s shoulder. Bim rubbed his back lightly, grinning.

‘You good?’

Yancy giggled lightly, nodding as he took a few deep breaths.

‘Y-Yeheah…’

‘You’re not mad at me are you?’

Yancy snorted, shaking his head as he grinned bashfully and gave him a tired nudge.

‘Nah… I uh… I actually do feel pretty good. Been hard to find time to chill out recently, y’know…’

Bim smiled at him with understanding. Yancy had been busy, working so so hard, putting pressure on himself. It was why he’d come up with this tickly relaxation scheme in the first place, just to give him a chance to let it all go for a bit. He squeezed Yancy’s shoulder softly.

‘I know, what’s why I knew I had to bring you.’

Yancy felt warmth in his chest at the gesture, then narrowed his eyes and laughed at how smug Bim’s grin was. He poked him in the ribs as he grumbled.

‘Sneaky asshole.’

Bim chuckled, and reclined back in his seat with a wink, picking up his champagne once more.

‘Love you too jailbird. So, are you ready for a little more?’

Yancy giggled softly, and nodded bashfully as the technicians returned. When the massaging resumed, Yancy didn’t hold back his delighted giggles this time, and felt the relaxation and comfort swell through him like a warm wave. Sometimes you don’t know you need something until someone else shows you that you need it, and though it’s sometimes hard to think so, everyone deserves the relaxation and laughter the world has to offer.

WOOO I KNOW THIS ONE IS LONG-AWAITED SO I HOPE YOU GUYS LIKE IT, LEMME KNOW IF YA DO! LOVE YOUS!!

[melliae]

Refraction Railway Line #4 Abnormalities (Analysis)

Everyone knows what a “masquerade” is, no? A dance hall filled to the brim with people in glamorous, pompous dresses and clothes, with masks hiding their identities. They were quite popular some centuries ago, especially in Venice, and… I really don’t know much about them. Wikipedia really helped here xD

Anyway, it’s obvious how the masquerades' elements of masks, costumes and such are tied to the presence of the Peccatulum Invidiae, who don the appearance and skills of the Sinners to hide their nature and goal: to entertain their “king” with everything they have. They will dance, fight, kill and die in order to soothe its boredom.

“I’m sure there’s something that those fakes can’t copy from us. Something they lack. We’re real, and they’re not. There’s gotta be a way to beat those annoying Peccatula.” - Rodya, Peccatulum Invidiae’s Observation Log #2.

“An egoless incarnation of ‘Identities’ manifested may hold a certain resemblance to the way they appear before us. Defeating one of them merely makes a vacancy for another to fill, for they number the same as we do.” - Yi Sang, The King in Binds’ Observation Log #2.

But no matter how hard they try, those Peccatula will never amount to anything, being just pieces to be discarded and used at their master’s convenience. They are empty shells that act only as pale, rotten shadows of what they yearn for—husks with nothing behind.

Nonetheless, their nature as mere “masks” already points out the nature of the Railway, made even more obvious with elaborated platform in the introductory cutscene and the final rolling of the carpet: this is a charade, an invitation to partake in a violent, wondrous banquet in which every guest is an actor that must play its part to their best for the host’s—the King’s—sake. 

Thus, with such mockery of an invitation it gave us, there’s only one way the reception can be.

Good Ol’ Days

“Sad, sad things happened here. Many sad things. I still carry with me my master's portrait because no one remembers them anymore. How is it? Can you see it well?”- Abnormality Encounter.

This is how the chief butler of the manor receives us: with words about a tragic past, and the few to none memories that persist about it. In fact, such longing and nostalgia are the entire basis of the Abnormality itself, with its main palette fittingly being that of worn-out sepia, and its EGO being called “Bygone Days”.

But even with its sorrowful solemnity and loyalty to its late master, there’s something insidious growing in the Abnormality that only makes itself clear when you answer that “you can’t see it well” to the question above and pass the check:

“'I see.' 'If my master is gone from the painting, the memories… what shall I do?' 'What if… one day… I start doubting that I ever had a master…'”

To say such a thing to it is nothing short of cruelty, for you are showing that its memory will one day fade, just like the colors and the figure of the resulting headless portrait that once were there, branding all that it has lived—all that suffering and love of yore—as worthless. It isn’t a coincidence that the Sin advantages of that option are Envy, the yearning to bring down the other along with oneself, and Pride, a total devaluation of the other, stating one’s own view as absolute.

However, just because the Abnormality can forget its master, it doesn’t mean it will simply accept it, as it makes everyone sit in front of the portrait until the missing countenance of its master can be elucidated if the words weren’t convincing, no matter how long that takes. An extreme method indeed, but effective, considering it’s the core essence of one of the two Sin advantages behind the “say that you can see it well” option: a passive Sloth that leads to painstakingly analyze the pictureless painting, without any other intention beyond fulfilling the Abnormality’s “request”. It makes the Butler’s celebration when you pass the check all the more depressing, saying that it can see “the face of its master reflected in your eyes”.

That sadness is pitifully cranked up when we move to the second Sin advantage, Envy, since the Abnormality doesn’t celebrate your well-hidden disinterest on the only thing that matters to it this time; it celebrates you directly lying to its face, about seeing things where there’s no to “save face” (or something along those lines). It makes clear that the Butler only cares about the portrait only to the extent it reflects its “memories” and endeavors, and thus is joyful about any (convincing) confirmation of their validity. After all, if someone declares with total certainty that the portrait—its past—amounts to nothing, what remains for it?

“'If you really can see my master's countenance… that's not the face you'd be making.' 'And those unimpressed, lifeless eyes aren't the look one would wear upon seeing my master's face.' We were quickly deemed unwelcome, and were chased out of the mansion.” - Abnormality Encounter.

And naturally, if it doesn’t like your shallow evaluation (or lie) about all of it has done for the mansion and its late master, the Butler takes offense and chases you off. 

While impossible to say for sure, I think it’s perfectly reasonable to assume that check failure will bridge the MD encounter with the future fight in case the new (potential) option doesn’t do anything, which leads me to the meat of the Abnormality: the fight

To begin, there are two elements in the Butler’s kit that must be highlighted in order to understand it: all of its skills inflict Sinking, and that none of them are Wrath-based. That’s to say, it isn’t a hateful Abnormality at all, but a pitiful one; its sadness is expressed with every swing of its arms and body, drowning others in the deep sadness caused for what was lost. In a related note, its resistance to Wrath is simply derived from the fact that it’s dealing with “interlopers” and not with anyone “special”, thus any sort of enmity is bound to be meaningless before its eyes.

Moving now to the first skills it uses, the most interesting one is “Leave This Place” due to its Lust affinity. In my previous posts, I commented that Lust is “desire for desire’s sake” which, while being useful for the parade of obsession that RR3 was, doesn’t really fit with what I’ve written here. Thankfully, we have the Divine Comedy to help us this time:

“Love, that on gentle heart doth swiftly seize,  Seized this man for the person beautiful That was ta’en from me, and still the mode offends me. Love, that exempts no one beloved from loving, Seized me with pleasure of this man so strongly, That, as thou seest, it doth not yet desert me;” - Francesca da Rimini, Canto V, Inferno.

In short, Lust is the result of the rational mind being overtaken by the passions of the heart—by love itself. This is depicted in-game mostly through characters and Abnormalities that are addicted to “carnal” things or pleasure in general, as shown with Pink Shoes, Kromer, Skin Prophet, and many others. But there are some special cases, like Basilisoup or Sign of Roses, where Lust acquires more “spiritual” undertones, showing its true underlying nature as the extremes to which the lover(s) can be guided by their love, to the detriment of everyone involved.

Thus, Lust is the Sin of love itself: love for love’s sake, desire for desire’s sake, and all the atrocities that one does or allows to happen as consequence. And without doubt, Portrait of a Certain Day has that kind of love for the mansion, trying to protect it from the “sorrow” brought by outsiders.

The other skill is “Don’t Make That Face”, which is Sloth-based. Returning to the check failure of “say that you can see it well”, it seems to be an extension of the Butler’s reaction, and the meaning should be self-evident: everything should remain as spotless and perfect as it was before, when its master was “alive”; anything else is an insult, a reminder that the present moment is nothing more than a fragile charade only keep up by the deep-seated nostalgia of the Abnormality—its refusal to move on.

Those two skills are the only ones that Portrait of a Certain Day uses until the mid-combat Event is triggered, when the Abnormality reaches a certain HP threshold. This is a relatively easy one to understand, with the Abnormality testing you after being so stubborn, asking you to guess which of the numerous Portraits it suddenly summons is its master’s. The second Log is about this Event, and the combat mechanic about destroying the correct one is just a “gameplayification” of it.

The Event itself is quite straightforward, with the only interesting thing being its Gloom advantage, implying that the “only way” (or intended way, maybe?) to correctly guess which one is Master’s Portrait is through understanding the deep sadness imprinted onto the painting—how well the Portraits embody its master’s life. This is represented in the gameplay (and the Logs) through the fake Portraits’ cackles and mirth when using their Evasion skill, whereas the real one simply takes the damage. Though it’s important to note the fake Portraits can still mess you with your mind, with the Event’s check failure showing it:

“[Sinner] suddenly feels the burning gaze of every single portrait in the room focus on them. Each and every single of them holds... resentment.”

This seems to be a translation of the Portraits’ only passive, “Peering Gaze”, which inflict Sinking every turn, coinciding with the result of losing 30 SP when failing. This gaze is referenced by Gregor in the Logs too, when he chose the wrong Portrait.

At any rate, neither failing nor succeeding in the check causes Portrait of a Certain Day to grow overly wrathful, just annoyed/desperate or glad respectively. But the gameplay version is a lot more complicated, since this Event is the source of its main gimmick, the “Interloper” status, with all its passives and the rests of its skills playing around it.

Once the Portraits are summoned, the Abnormality will attach 1 skill to each, either “My Master” or “My Tragic Master”, both of them being Envy-based. The logic behind that affinity is hinted at by the Logs again:

“Oh, yeah. Lemme get off-topic for a moment and talk about the old times. The higher-ups used to make me march in the streets with portraits or pictures of the dead in my hands. It was kinda… no, very sickening. Parading portraits, pictures, or even mementos of the dead like that is… how should I put this? Yeah, it's like we're taking advantage of their deaths, isn't it?” - Gregor, Abnormality’s Observation Log #1.

There’s no doubt the Abnormality loves its late master. But in the City, love, like all other emotions, can be twisted into something unrecognizable and self-serving, used to alleviate the bitterness within. In the Butler’s case, what else can it be besides a tool to prop itself up as the one that protects its master’s legacy, believing it’s the only thing it truly is and can be? Maybe that’s why it’s resistant to Envy too, because who can really feel envy for a sad being that needs the dead to have a “place”?

Anyway, once this phase begins, there are two possibilities: you destroy the Master’s Portrait within 3 turns, or you fail to do so. This latter case is what causes the activation of “Throwing Out The Interloper” passive. In essence, you took too much time and failed the test, with the Interloper inflicted in the earliest deployed Sinner possibly being a representation of it focusing on the Sinner sent during the Event, or how bad of a memory the Butler has, to the point it can only remember the most “recent” Sinner.

In case the correct Portrait is destroyed before 3 turns, the Logs explains us what happens:

“But after that… … the Abnormality grew really hostile and went on a full offensive. It started fuming, like it was somehow pissed off. It seemed to obsessively focus its attacks against the person who got the last hit in. Well, that focus eventually spread out to all of us. I guess all that rage didn't help 'em keep a cool head.” - Gregor, Abnormality’s Observation Log #3.

This is expressed in gameplay through the “Ooh, Dear Master” and “You Must Be the Interloper’s Family?” passives, and the implications are quite obvious. However, the first one is the more interesting, showing how the memories of the past, even when they are no different from a faded portrait, are a stupidly high morale boost for the Abnormality, and their destruction a near psychological breakdown.

With all of that said, it’s very tempting to say Portrait of a Certain Day represents Nelly thanks to her speech near the end of Canto VI:

“Miss Catherine was... difficult from time to time, but I do not wish to deny even the times we've spent together. I even miss the late Mister Earnshaw Senior from time to time. No... I never lived a life full of hate, animosity. I am just struggling desperately to change my destiny.” - Chapter 45: Life, Stolen.

But that’s where everything ends. While Nelly may have wanted to return to that past, it would likely have been only to avoid her destiny, the destruction of her life thanks to the relationship between Heathcliff and Catherine, as her Gluttony and Wrath skills show. This is in contrast to the remaining Gloom- (“Interloper, Are You?” and “Leave, Interloper”) or Sloth-based (“Who Might You Be?”) skills of the Abnormality, expressions of its deep sadness and tiredness over all the tragedies it has witnessed and will keep on witnessing, all thanks to its refusal to move on out of love.

Other good fits are Josephine and her entourage, so obsessed with the ghost—the memories—of their dead mistress that I’d say they are the best example of the Abnormality by far, forever bound to a dead past they love and wish to protect with everything they have. Fuck, even Josephine’s color palette is almost the same that the Abnormality’s!

I think it’s also possible to say Portrait of a Certain Day represents the concept of butlers and their inherited contracts. But I think that hampers and reduces the underlying experience of the Abnormality, which I’m pretty sure everyone must have felt: the bitter wish to return to those simple days of yore, wishing to safekeep them from all harm despite the impending “sunset”. Maybe that’s why Portrait of a Certain Day is weak to Lust, to love itself, and, above all, to both Sloth and Pride—the inertia that lets days pass without care, and the “arrogant” exclamation that oneself is more than their past.

It’s natural to love one’s past and endeavors, what one has done for others and themselves, but identifying oneself with it is too dangerous. After all, it’s through thinking and believing that such illusions become real, and with them every new day becomes a tragedy, every new person an “interloper” that brings only misery.

The past, despite its importance, is not everything you are. There’s no need to despair once it vanishes.

Dreams of Freedom

“Maybe it's enjoying a gentle dream, free from the painful strikes of lightning. Maybe it's suffering a dark nightmare because we’ve taken its spark… Well, there’s no way for us to know now, but… I wonder if lightning actually hurts this Abnormality. Or… maybe having its electricity taken away hurt more.” - Sinclair, Abnormality’s Observation Log #3.

After a (brainless) fight against the chief butler and its entourage, the dogs, knights and other personnel dedicated to protecting the manor, we find ourselves confronting… a sheep? And it doesn’t seem to be a normal animal, but an electrical one, as its name very clearly demonstrates.

There’s no need to be a genius to know that Dreaming Electric Sheep is a reference to the novel Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep? by Philip K. Dick, which deals with themes of faith, empathy, and connection in a sci-fi world. Naturally, those topics permeate the Abnormality throughout, with special focus to the questions presented by Sinclair above: what does the Sheep truly want and is that the correct thing?

To answer them, we need first to understand what exactly the electricity in question is. For that, we need to analyze its surprisingly evocative battle.

“But I noticed something new with every strike of lightning, with every flash… It was almost like a dream. A four-legged cloud, illuminated in the flares of violet… Oh, and… there was something that stood out as odd from that dreamlike sight, though. There was a machine in there, with its cables and plugs strewn all over the place. … Maybe it was like a power generator, or something?” - Sinclair, Abnormality’s Observation Log #3.

And for beginners, as a curiosity, this fragment here along with the Abnormality Encounter in the MDs imply the generators and wires are already present in the arena; they aren’t summoned, unlike the fight. This means the passive associated with that latter mechanic, “Generator”, is essentially just a mechanic especially made to avoid… breaking the fight, I guess.

There are some other cases of “story and gameplay segregation”, like the Sheep begins the fight with an unclashable attacks that isn’t mentioned anywhere in the Logs, or that it naturally attracts storms and electricity, independent of the generators. But since they don’t matter that much, let’s ignore them and begin with the actual analysis.

The main focus of the fight is trying to get the “Anti-Ovine Grounding Plug” status on the Sinners, acquired by winning against the Generators’s “Overcharge Release” skill—overcoming the electricity released by the generators to grab a cable. Not exactly revolutionary, but it gets the work done, since the name of the status and the fact that the Sinner that has it must win a clash against the Sheep’s sole Pride skill, “Grounding Refusal”, to inflict “Plugged In” on it are quite telling: the Abnormality doesn’t want to be “grounded” and have its electricity stolen.

The Abnormality’s refusal to “touch earth” is also seen in the fight’s background, placed in the sky and high above whatever city is below, filled to the brim with lightning and stormy clouds. Sinclair described such surroundings as dream-like, and rightfully so; how can one say that such a place, disconnected almost wholly from earth, is anything but a fantasy? In a way, it’s really, really juvenile…

Regarding the “Plugged In” status, the name is everything you really need to understand it, and thankfully you need only 3 Plugged In on the Abnormality to stagger and make it lose all the Charge (i.e., electricity) it has built up, effectively putting it to “sleep”. The related passive, “A Familiar Connector”, implies that the Sheep is conscious and knows what you are doing, and it’s trying to fight against it, as the special Event (when it has 2 Plugged In) and the Logs show:

“At the end of each cable strewn about the floor is a plug. Perhaps the sheep knows what it implies. It lets out a sorrowful cry.” - Mid-Combat Event. “… The sheep began attacking me as soon as I grabbed the cable from the generator. It would burst with lightning… or try to ram me with its body.” - Sinclair, Abnormality’s Observation Log #2.

Naturally, beyond the prideful refusal to be grounded, thinking of itself as deserving much more than to be slaved as mere battery, the Abnormality becomes wrathful at the sight of someone using the cables too, as represented by its “Ram Charge” skill. But this incessant fight to reject its duty make its weakness to Wrath and Gloom all the more ironic: despite its big egoism, befitting its resistance to Pride, Dreaming Electric Sheep is susceptible to others’ suffering and hatred, as if they make it doubt its egoistic stubbornness.

Returning now to the fight as such, the Abnormality doesn’t always use “Grounding Refusal”, since it’s tied to the other main status of the fight: Gathering Lightning Cloud. As it name implies, it’s a representation of how the Sheep is able to gather lightning and electricity in the first place, being what ultimately dictates what skills it uses:

“Horned Charge”: A Lust-based skill used when there’s 4, 3 or 1 Gathering Lightning Cloud. It essentially represents the love and addiction Dreaming Electric Sheep has for electricity—for “dreaming” above and beyond the earth.

“Lamb’s Cry” and “Electricity Manipulation”: Gloom-based skills, used when there’s 3 or less and 1 Gathering Lightning Cloud respectively. They are a stand-in for the Abnormality’s despair caused by losing the source of its electricity and “dreams”.

An entity that’s in love with dreaming and being unbounded, fighting and despairing upon the prospect of losing its “spark” and tied down to something—to duty. Thus, it isn’t a surprise Sloth is antithetical to its existence, a drive that destroys its (sort of) rebellion and pride by making it rot as nothing but a commodity, a tool born and raised to feed the city below.

“The electric sheep bleats and screams. As its distressed screech shakes the air, flashes of light hit the eyes. The buildings are lit brighter than ever. Soon, the light from the creature’s cloud dimmed. Could it be dreaming? The sheep appeared to have closed its eyes after it fell silent.” - Abnormality Encounter.

A “poison” that… puts it to sleep? That part isn’t clear, and Yi Sang’s comment in the third Log doesn’t help that much either. We know the Abnormality is already dreaming at some level, quite literally being “in the clouds” and having to be “grounded”, so maybe it collapsing is the result of finally being “tamed” and “binded”, drained of everything it has as the weight of the things it has done—the tiredness of living freely—catches up. It's the somnolence that willingly sacrifices all (external) ambitions, so the world can remain in order and “awake”.

Thankfully for the Sheep, and pitifully for those below, such a state is not permanent, at least in gameplay. This all due to its only Envy skill, “Electric Screaming”, which has two versions: an unclashable one used solely during the first turn, and a clashable version used whenever there’s only 1 Gathering Lightning Cloud on the Abnormality. While the former is difficult to elucidate since it doesn’t have any effect in practice (beyond the 10 Protections it grants), it coincides with a small part of the Logs:

“Do you think we have to plug those cables into the sheep? Ah, I see… What if that sheep is screaming so much because of the lightning in its body…? - Sinclair, Abnormality’s Observation Log #1.

It is screaming (duh), and feeling a profound envy for something/someone in that moment. The clashable version further clarifies it through its effect of expiring all the built up Charge, along with disconnecting itself from the generator likely due to the absurd release of electricity—its precious electricity.

While it would be normal to assume the Abnormality is envious for people that don’t have to experience the pain of being electrocuted, I disagree with that. The Logs are ambiguous at the hour of answering what’s more painful to the Sheep, but the EGO Awakening/Corrosion lines and the “cut the cables” option in its Encounter heavily imply what the Sheep values above all.

“The buildings blacked out in an instant. The electric sheep dashed off into the distance, propelling a thunderous cry. In the unlit town, weeps of the lightless fill the air. A tiny object rests where the electric sheep once was.” - Abnormality Encounter.

So terrified of being “robbed” that, without realizing, it leaves a fragment of its being and electricity behind.

Everything indicates that Dreaming Electric Sheep is envious not out of “physical” pain, but of those that don’t have to sacrifice their dreams and are free. Unlike them, it has to fight with everything it has and abandon all in order to escape its “confinement”, with its last important passive, “Wants To Be Free”, being the most obvious proof of that drive and violent opposition.

All in all, the theme of the Abnormality is obvious: in contrast to Portrait of a Certain Day and its blind loyalty to its duty and past, Dreaming Electric Sheep represents fighting back and rebelling against them—the “presetted” social role that was given to it. However, no matter how much it wants to be free, the Sheep will have to return to the ground one day by either its own volition or dragged down by others, and when that happens its dreams will only consist of the days of yore.

“The ability to recollect may become the Abnormalities’ bridge from the waking world into the land of dreams. Yet, we know not whether what it reminisces is its past, or merely its figments.” - Yi Sang, Abnormality’s Observation Log #3.

Thus, its entire relationship with Envy makes sense (beyond “Envy = Electricity/Charge”, of course), including its resistance and why do Identities without Envy have their mental state deteriorated when plugging in the Sheep in the Encounter; it is one of the purest manifestations of the Sin. But then, one has to wonder what the Abnormality represents in this royal masquerade, and thankfully, an user in reddit gave a more than appropriate answer:

“I think Sheep represents the King. A more imature version of the king that didnt want the responsiblity of the throne, just to run freely. I also want to add even the stage placement supports my theory, both section 3 and 4 follow the same structure of peccatula followed by abnormality. I think Sheep is the Prince, a Little Prince.” - u/tr_berk1971.

And with that, we return to the first question: without the prince, the kingdom doesn’t have a future, so what should you do in this case? Respect its decision or bring it down?

The King in Binds

“There is an entity bound to an extravagantly ornamented chair. It appears as though the entity is shooting a stern glare this way. It tries to say something... but its mouth is bound. The King on the throne twists and thrashes, trying to approach... but the things that bind drags him away. The beautiful yet cruel crimson strips of fabric. They pull mercilessly. They are…” - Abnormality Encounter.

If Abnormalities like Skin Prophet and Drifting Fox are difficult to explain, then The King in Binds is the complete opposite. So instead of explaining the Abnormality’s meaning, I’m going to analyze its mechanics and tie it to… well, a certain theory I have.

At any rate, after gruesome fights with every single inhabitant of the manor, including the goddamn prince, we arrive against the ruler, the one who set up this very own Railway as a masquerade to alleviate its boredom. Fittingly, before even dreaming of fighting the King, we have to go through its (adamantine) inner circle: its closest and oldest butlers, its royal guard, its counselors, and for some reason two homeless men… Well, anything for the King, right?

“Now that I have spent some time in observation of their operations, I have noticed a conspicuously considerable collection of similitudes between us. I can presume that their number is most likely equivalent to our own; their techniques in parallel to ours. Yet what those Peccatula lack is the will to make decisions of their own. Like cards to be played with and discarded at the king’s whim.” - Yi Sang, Abnormality’s Observation Log #2.

Especially when you are an extension of the King’s many “binds” that empower and limit it at the same time, giving it shape and thus an existence—they are as much as part of the King as the King is of them, as seen with the “Bandage of the King in Binds”. But this reciprocity becomes heavily nightmarish when you consider how the King is the source of all the Peccatulum Invidiae we see in the Railway, meaning only one thing: there’s no difference between the Sovereign and its people.

“A commonwealth is said to be instituted when a multitude of men do agree, and covenant, every one with every one, that to whatsoever man, or assembly of men, shall be given by the major part the right to present the person of them all, that is to say, to be their representative; every one, as well he that voted for it as he that voted against it, shall authorize all the actions and judgements of that man, or assembly of men, in the same manner as if they were his own, to the end to live peaceably amongst themselves, and be protected against other men.” - Leviathan, by Thomas Hobbes.

The King in Binds doesn’t control every single one of its retainers; they are one and the same, with their wills being its will. It’s the living manifestation of the manor and the kingdom, with its “bandages” and thus control extending through every corner. Its power is absolute, its rules unquestionable… Yet, such a position is lonely beyond any comparison, not having any equal and no challenge that can’t be easily solved with 1 order. No wonder why its EGO and a great part of its skills are both Pride and Gloom, or that it’s resistant to Lust, Gluttony and Envy—a solitary responsibility that kills all desire, yet too powerful and important to simply wish upon another, explaining also its Sloth skill.

“To be in command of others, to reign over another, is a declaration that one shall endure the responsibilities and the suffering that come with power. I would like to take this opportunity to extend my deepest gratitude to our Executive Manager, who leads us with a firm but fair, excellent hand.” - Outis, Abnormality’s Observation Log #3.

And I don’t think I’ve to explain the relationship it has with Dante and the Sinners, because it’s obvious their contract doesn’t only affect the latter’s “time”. By all means, the Sinners have become (metaphysical) extensions of Dante, who is no other than the pitiful, solitary and all too prideful Leviathan.

“‘Mine eyes,’ I said, ‘will yet be here ta’en from me, But for short space; for small is the offence Committed by their being turned with envy. Far greater is the fear, wherein suspended My soul is, of the torment underneath, For even now the load down there weighs on me.’” - Dante, Canto XIII, Purgatorio, Divine Comedy.

A King that under no circumstances allows disrespect towards its presence. But there’s no need to worry, because it won’t direct its resentment and hatred against its retainers, to those he has “bonded” with as shown with “Present Thyself Before the King”; everything will be directed to its “enemies” and “offenders”, either conquering or destroying them. Its theme isn’t named “Vovete Miseries”, latin for “(All of) You Shall Vow Miseries”, for nothing.

At the end, Dante, like the King, will remain alone at the top. The binds and duty, once chains (chains… why do they sound familiar?) that dragged them to the “throne” over and over again, now bandages that cover the shameful injuries and are the only thing that hold it together. They may struggle as much as they want to get free now, but they are in that situation because they have already resigned themselves to the bitterness of such a role—they “gladly” welcomed both Sloth and Gloom in their lives, without resisting them.

“Let this battle bring a fleeting moment of joy for the lone-king who shall reign eternal, reign unaccompanied.” - Choosing to “wear the mask of joy”, Introductory Event.

“Let this battle bring a fleeting moment of solace for the lone-king who shall reign eternal, reign unaccompanied.” - Choosing to “wear the mask of sorrow”, Introductory Event.

“Let this battle spark the flames of battle-joy for the lone king who shall reign eternal, reign unaccompanied.” - Choosing to “wear the mask of wrath”, Introductory Event.

Though you can at the very least soothe that melancholy by playing along with this selfish desire of it, to take one of the many offered masks to fulfill this play whose ending allows the King to pretend to be free. How you do it is entirely up to you, of course, but please, do not forget the pain the King experiences with every movement and breath; that’s the despair and duty we all share.

Post-Commentary

Beyond the usual disclaim that every Abnormality is open to discussion, I really want to focus in the last section, about The King in Binds, due to theory I presented: in the same way Spiral of Contempt can represent Dante's past self, KiB obviously represents something of them; it may be their past again, yes, but also their future, and that's the interpretation I chose. It can also be understood as a parallel with Heathcliff in particular, who (whom?) already had comparisons made with the Devil himself.

Outside of that, if Protrait of a Certain Day's section looks longer than the others... Yes, it's. That's because I wrote it as some sort of "reception" as well, beginning with the first thing we knew about the Abnorality before the fight. It's also the thing that took more time than any other; the Envy affinity really messed up with my brain... And that's not speaking about how similar Portrait is to Steam Machine.

And finally, it's obvious the overall theme within this Railway: while RR2 represents unending cycles and RR3 (self-)destructive obssessions, RR4 stands for the tragedy and power that come with duty, from the immature stages in which we try to run from it, to the last days during which we take comfort in what we have done - childhood/teenagehood, adulthood, and finally elderliness in a world that demands things that we may not neccesaily like, but we must fullfill. Life in society is truly like a masquerade, isn't it?

[mariacallous]

President Joe Biden on Monday touted his “unshakeable” support for “the safety of the Jewish people and the security of Israel and its right to exist,” but he also offered a stark warning about the volatility of public opinion.

“We’ll continue to provide military assistance to Israel until they get rid of Hamas, but we have to be careful – they have to be careful,” Biden told those gathered for a Hanukkah reception at the White House Monday night. “The whole world’s public opinion can shift overnight, we can’t let that happen.”

The comments from Biden come as an emergency aid package that would provide funding for Israel and Ukraine remains mired in Congress and lawmakers face pressure to act amid a new wave of antisemitism in the US as the Israel-Hamas war enters a third month.

The reception, hosted by the president, celebrated the fifth night of Hanukkah and, according to the White House, featured some 800 guests, including Holocaust survivors, lawmakers and various Jewish leaders.

“I also recognize you’re hurting from the silence, and the fear, and for your safety, because of a surge in antisemitism in the United States of America and around the world — it’s sickening,” Biden told the audience.

He added, “You know, we see it, across our communities, and schools, and colleges, and social media — they surface painful scars, from millennia of hate to genocide of the Jewish people.”

Reported hate crimes and bias incidents against Jews, Muslims and Arabs have continued to surge since October 7, according to new data from the Anti-Defamation League and the Council on American-Islamic Relations.

The ADL said it recorded 2,031 antisemitic incidents in the two months following Hamas’ terrorist attacks on Israel, including reports of physical assault, vandalism and “anti-Israel rallies that included classically antisemitic, anti-Zionist and/or terror-supportive rhetoric.” That is up from 465 such incidents during the same two-month period in 2022.

CAIR, the nation’s largest Muslim advocacy group, said it has seen a similar spike in bias incidents during the first month of the war with 2,171 requests for help and reports made to its national headquarters and chapters across the country since October 7.

At the event, Biden called “upon all Americans to make clear there is no place for hate in America – against Jews, Muslims or anybody else.”

Biden was joined on stage by second gentleman Doug Emhoff, who has made combatting antisemitism a focus as the first Jewish spouse of a president or vice president. Last week, Emhoff condemned rising antisemitism at the National Menorah lighting ceremony.

The president in his remarks pointed to his support for Israel, while acknowledging differences between himself and Israeli Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu. He recounted how as a young lawmaker he told the Israeli leader, “I love you, but I don’t agree with a damn thing you have to say.” “It’s about the same today,” he said Monday.

Biden highlighted the work his administration has done to secure the release of hostages still held in Gaza and the delivery of humanitarian aid to the region, saying he “personally spent countless hours” working with Israeli, Qatari and Egyptian counterparts on both fronts. 

“There’s a whole range of things going on now that are really very, very difficult,” Biden said. “We’ve gotten more than 100 hostages out and we’re not going to stop till we get every one of them home.”

Seven American men and one woman remain unaccounted for since the Israel-Hamas war began, according to the White House. Four Americans  — a 4-year-old girl and three women — have been released so far.

The United States, Biden also said, “will continue to lead the world in humanitarian assistance to innocent Palestinian civilians, to emphasize to our friends, our Israeli friends, we need to protect civilian life.”