#I do think another part of it is probably largely projection

[pkmatrix]

I realized I should probably explain more than just leaving a somewhat passive-aggressive comment (for which I apologize @benkaben, I just get tired hearing this same sentiment over and over).

(I also apologize for the absolute wall of text I'm about to barf here...)

Hollywood has always thrived on sequels and remakes, this is true going all the way back to the 1910s. The reason why people have noticed and are getting annoyed in the last 25 years is because around that time Hollywood shifted and changed some of the underlying assumptions about movies and, from the business side, what they were doing.

Specifically: they shifted from building movies around Movie Stars to building movies around Intellectual Property.

While IP-based movies and franchises have been around since the beginning, since Florence Lawrence blew up as the first "Movie Star" at Biograph Studios in 1908 most Studio movies have been built around the idea of the "Star" - an person (actor, writer, director, etc.) who's face and name is the true draw. Movies projects were often greenlit specifically as vehicles for the Star, and its the Star that people are coming to see. You had plenty of variety there: some Stars attracted people simply because they were beautiful people, some because they were talented actors, some because they were talented Directors or storytellers, etc. This is why, for instance, we talk about the classic Disney films as specifically Walt Disney films because Walt was the Star those movies were built around. The actual content of the movies - the story, the characters, the intellectual property, etc. - was kinda an after-thought much of the time?

For the most part, IP-based movies were looked at by studios as being generally low-brow, low-money, B content. Have you ever looked up how many Tarzan movies, Zorro movies, or Lassie movies they made back in the day? This is also why big studio sequels were rare prior to The Godfather Part II, because people were coming to see the STARS not the characters.

IP-based franchises during the 20th Century gained traction largely when they were linked to a Star who kept returning to play the part: Boris Karloff as the Monster in the Frankenstein series, William Powell and Myrna Loy as Nick and Nora Charles in The Thin Man series, Basil Rathbone as Sherlock Holmes in Universal's series, Sean Connery as James Bond, Arnold Schwarzeneggar as The Terminator, Sylvester Stallone as Rocky Balboa, etc.. The closest things to exceptions I can think of are the Looney Tunes characters and Godzilla, where the IP itself was the Star.

Another thing I don't think people may realize is how movie fandom change dramatically around the turn of the millennium.

Modern fandom, particularly online, is descended from Star Trek, Star Wars, Superhero Comics, Doctor Who, and The X-Files. But during the 20th Century that sort of fandom was seen as immature nerds, weird, niche, strange, and widely looked down upon. Movie studios hardly acknowledged that such fans even existed of their IP. Mainstream fandom, for the most part, was more similar to those Celebrity Gossip shows like TRL - it was fandom of STARS and celebrity worship, not of actual movies. People who were interested in movies themselves to that degree were often seen as weirdos and that was shunned. What was more accepted mainstream was fandom of books, and people would discuss the stories and characters of novels and novel series in ways we're much more familiar with.

This changed at the turn of the millennium thanks to The Phantom Menace, Harry Potter, and the Lord of the Rings trilogy. The success of those three opened the eyes of Hollywood to the potential of building their business around Intellectual Properties rather than Movie Stars, and made them realize that IP fans were an untapped well of money. Up until that point the studios had largely tried to pretend these people didn't exist, but these three movies coming in short succession to huge success made them realize "Wait...the nerds have money? If we cater to them specifically, we could make millions!"

They made billions.

So, you see what happened, right? by a decade later Hollywood had shifted all their focus: no longer were they building movies around Movie Stars, they were building them around IP Franchises - especially long established ones with large pre-existing audiences. When movies were built around Movie Stars you had no motivation to do the same things over and over - the purpose of remakes and sequels in that era was to provide vehicles for Stars, the remake giving a new Star a chance to fill an old Star's shoes and the sequel to provide a second chance at making money on a Star's successful hit. But in our world where everything is built around IP, the purpose is milking fandom for money by appealing to nostalgia and the niche interests of the fandom (or, at least what the studio is interpreting as the interests of the fandom, or attempts to steer the fandom's interest in a direction they think will be more exploitable).

And that's where we are now. That's why I just sigh and get a little irritated when I see posts lamenting this, because I feel people fail to realize 1) that Hollywood has always been like this, and 2) these underlying business strategies that motivate and inform every movie being greenlit.

"What do you want from a remake" I DON'T WANT THEM. I DON'T WANT ANOTHER SOULLESS NOSTALGIA-FILLED CASH-GRAB. I DON'T WANT ANY OF THEM. I DON'T WANT ADAPTATIONS THAT KILL THE ORIGINAL MESSAGE OF THE THING THEY WERE BASED UPON NEITHER THE SHOT-BY-SHOT DESATURATED RECREATIONS. I WANT ORIGINAL STORIES!!! NOT REMAKES OF MOVIES THAT AIN'T EVEN 30 YEARS OLD!!!​AAGGGGGHHH

[unknownmads]

CANT STOP THINKING ABOUT INMATE TOJI AND CUTE LITTLE Y/N WHOS SO NAIVE TO BIG BAD TOJI

CW: Slight smut (mentions of his pp🤭)

☆☆☆

thinking about Prison toji who you met when your college has you do a little project in your criminal psychology class. The project was make a penpal get to know them ask why they are in prision, what their lives before was like, do they regret what they did etc. basic questions of course all you had to do was get the most information out of the penpal about their personal lives as you could.

Prison Toji who only signed up for the program because it was part of his latest court order saying he ‘needed more understanding’ so a penpal would give him a friend while they stay safe😭 he ofc hated the idea and thought it was the dumbest shit ever. until he got his first letter, from you (duh).

Prison toji who got mail for the first time and it was a little white envelope with a cute little sticker sealing it. He deadpanned *is my penpal an idiot these letters are for a prison not a daycare* he silently judges examining every detail as he opened the letter. i read the letter taking in every little personal detail you shared with him, your cute little name, how you loved your cat, how you’re new to the city only just moving for school, of course the boring questions for him as well. But at the very end of the letter he noticed an extra little note.

Ps. i left a few photos of myself along with some of my cat! i think it’s only fair since i got to see your photo on the website

Prison toji who grabs the envelope he previously had thrown to the side and pulls out 3 polaroids. One of you and probably your cat you’re dragging it into the photo with a big grin on your face. the second is a photo of your face a soft smile on your lips meant for whoever took the photo but Toji couldn’t help but wonder if that little smile was for him. Until he pulls out the third photo it’s a full view of you, you’re out in the city dressed all out, and Toji couldn’t help but know you chose that photo just for him.

Prison Toji who can’t wait to finally get some alone time so he can truly appreciate your pretty photos. And immediately goes to write you back answering all your cute little questions. Telling you where he lived before, how he ended up there, telling you what he did for work before (Surprise he sold drugs😍), telling you what he does to occupy his time here (he works out he just wanted an excuse to tell you how strong he is), and he asks you some questions.

Prison Toji who has been relentlessly flirting with since you started writing to him, asking if you had a boyfriend, how your school was going, why you moved to the city, how a cute lil thing like you is still single. You had been writing each other for a few weeks now which is a lot less than you think when you know how long mail takes. But your letters to each other are long. answering every little thing each other asks, learning about one another more and more. You had really connected so you finally ask him the big question he read the words as clear as day.

~Do you think i could come pay you a visit? ~

Prison Toji who had to immediately write back answering the most important question first.

~ And doll, you can come visit me anytime id love to finally meet you and see your pretty face in person~

he wanted to be nonchalant.

Prison Toji who was sitting in bed looking at your photos when he was called

“Zenin, you’ve got a visitor. away from the door.”

Prison Toji silently followed standing on the other side of the cell while the guard came in to handcuff him and bring him to the visiting area. Once he was in the room his cuffs connecting him to the table he waited. until he heard the door open again. He felt his cock twitch in his pants as he saw the guard guide you in. You were wide eyed taking in the new environment until they landed on him.

Prison Toji was large, you knew he was tall and muscular thanks to his letters and photo but nothing could have prepared you for the real deal. Eyes widening even more when you fully take him in. seated At the grey metal table his hands on the table as the guard had told him to. his hair poking at his eyes which were staring drinking you in. his lip in a smirk helping you notice the scar on it which you couldn’t really see from the grainy prison photos. His shirt stretched against his muscles showing off a few tattoos hidden along his skin. the view making you squeeze your thighs together to release some of the pressure building.

Prison Toji who took in as much of you as he could as he watched you shuffle into your seat across from him, enjoying how you squirmed slightly within his gaze, his smirk growing into an almost full smile.

“hey doll it’s good to finally meet you.”

[kozachenko]

I. LOVE. NAREKO. SO MUCH SHE HAS BECOME MY NEW FAVOURITE FROM THE DEMO OMG-

Artist's Notes;

Before I even knew about her character, her design and theme made me like her so much omg I knew I had to draw her and it was enough to distract me from the Touhou Project Inscryption AU art I was working on before this but that's not important right now. I love her and the stage 1 boss so much (Chimi is a little too weird for me I'm sorry), but Nareko's colour scheme stood out to me a lot.

I know she's not acutally Egyptian and is just larping, but I did try to give her some more melanin since I thought that sort of skin tone would jive better with some of her other colours. IDK why but tan skin and blue hair go really well together, this is like, the second time I've done this so far (I WILL GET TO KEIKI IN A MOMENT BECAUSE HOO HOOOOOOOOOOOOO BOY DO I HAVE SOME NEW IDEAS NOW). I also didn't feel like drawing hands, so I put them behind her back, though I do think the pose fits. I also exaggerated her shorts because again, her design has is really fun to exagerrate and stylize. I didn't go too nuts on the rendering, really only felt inspired to do some of the clothes and a few gold bits. One of her key earrings kinda got lost in some of the gold but honestly I just wanted to doodle her.

AND NOW ONTO MY IDEA WITH KEIKI BECAUSE OOOH MY GOODNESS I NEED TO GET THIS OUT OF MY BRAIN. So like, in ancient Egypt, one important part of their funerary rights were these little idols called Shabti, which were intended to assist the dead in the afterlife as servants and were used since all the way back in Old Kingdom Egypt. Another funerary rite Egypt is well known for is also the pyramids, which were large tombs constructed for the deceased that also date back to Old Kingdom Egypt. (If I get something wrong with ancient Egyptian history btw, please correct me in the comments)

All I'm saying is that Keiki could very possibly connect with Nareko over funerary rights, and Nareko would probably appreciate the funerary rites of the Kofun period that Keiki has dominion over since there some similarities between Ancient Egyptian funeral rites and Kofun period funeral rites (not saying they are identical, but these are just some connections I've noticed). You know, maybe if Nareko met Keiki she'd probably help support her in her faith since she would also likely believe in idol worship and...y'know, they'd probably be friends :)

...Their ship name is Kei/Reko and I will say no more.

Now back to the Touhou Project Inscryption AU I was working on before this

[simspaghetti]

Hello! I love your simblr and your stardew valley project. I have an idea for building up a town but I can't seem to find any empty large worlds. Do you have any reccomendations? Thanks!

Empty Worlds for Builders / Custom Save File Creation!

Hey lovely! Thank you so much 🥰🥰 I actually do have a few suggestions of some worlds that I've tried out & really adored

My best advice for building up your own world is to figure out the vibe of the town you want to build & plan out a few key characters / families and then go with one that best suits it - I tried building my SDV world about 5 times before I settled on my final save lol so don't be afraid to scrap it and start over if it's not feeling right, you can always save the lots / families to your library and plop them somewhere else!

Brightwater Bay by SimsOnTheRope

This one was so nearly the one I used as my basis for Stardew Valley because of the big river running down the middle, but I wound up thinking it was too big to work for my purposes, regardless it's a really beautiful world with a lot of nice set dressing and is worth looking at if you're wanting something similar!

Halley by NovaPark

The colour palette for this world is gorgeous! It's so lush and full of greenery and I also really like the road design - if I was gonna build a town in this world I'd probably use the big spring / waterfall in the middle as a big lore plot point (eg: maybe it has magical or special scientific use & its use employs a lot of the townsfolk?) so many opportunities for storytelling here!

Covington by Jackob

This one is a bit on the smaller side, but you have lots of room to place more lots if you do need more space - the scenery is lovely as well - there's a clear area for the town centre & city hall which is something I always like in empty world because it gives you some guidelines to go off of rather than starting totally from scratch planning-wise

Deery Meadows by MySimRealty

This one is a super nice standard residential world, it would be great for a costal / fishing town vibe because there is a lot of big lakes and abandoned boats scattered around, I also really like the road style in this world (something I'm pretty sure no one cares about other than me LOL they're just very aesthetically pleasing & look super clean)

Igginima by Cink's Sims

This one is one of my favourites for scenery but I haven't found quite the right use for it for my personal saves yet - it reminds me of a remote scottish island, and you get the impression there's a lot of lore here you can play with, there are a few pre-built community lots but they're mostly just for decoration and you can just delete them if you'd rather start from total scratch!

Southbridge by Sims3Time

This one has a really nice desert vibe if you're looking for something less green! (the other ones on this list are all quite similar so I wanted to give another more unique option)

Oakshore by Pleyita

This one is small as well but it has quite a few lots packed into the space which is why I thought I'd give it a mention! Would be great for a small-town suburban kinda vibe if that's what you're going for, it kinda reminds me of Sunset Valley

Storybrook County Lite by MySimRealty

This world is massive if that's what you're looking for! It's got an area for farmland and adjoins to a more industrial city part as well, a really great all-rounder if you're looking for a big project, I also love that it's got so much attention to detail with the different road types in the more rural areas and barns / hay bales scattered around the farming bits

Vintage Champs Les Sims by Franglish et Chocolat

This is the world I used for my SDV project so I'm sure you've checked it out already, but I have to give it a mention because the scenery & set dressing is some of the best I've ever seen, it's stunning, and I'm constantly discovering new details & little things for my sims to explore even after working in it for months

For more suggestions...

Shout out to this repository which is a fantastic resource for cataloguing old worlds, the blog isn't active anymore but there's a lot of worlds reblogged on there and it's well-organised into different categories, also mysimreality has quite a few empty worlds & this creator on MTS has emptied a few of the EA worlds if that takes your fancy!

I'd also thoroughly recommend checking out Mercury101's world scenery pictures, their blog is always a go-to for me when I'm looking for new world options as they have loads documented on there :)

Hope that's helpful! If anyone else has any other recommendations pls pop them in the comments - these are just the ones I've personally tested :D

[rickktish]

I’ve got a couple of hot takes and there’s nuance to them but I don’t have a whole lot of brain power so I might leave it as-is and elaborate only if asked:

-The kind of people who engage in fandom and specifically those who write fanfiction tend to belong to the same categories of people/sets of identities which are likely to fall victim to the “white people have no culture” lie and therefore like to spice up their writing by diversifying the cast in ways they view as meaningful or reflective of those characters’ personal arcs/histories, which unfortunately means leaning on a lot of stereotypes and accidentally perpetuating, consciously or unconsciously, those stereotypes. (Is anyone else bothered by the prevalence of latino Jason “drug crime lord” Todd headcanons? I don’t speak up about it often but it frequently feels legitimately uncomfy to me. Also while it’s fun to mess around with various flavors of Asian Tim “the smart Robin” Drake, there are some very uncomfortable discussions which ought to be had about why he gets headcanoned as east Asian specifically— usually Korean from what I’ve seen but also frequently Chinese and Japanese— when the fanon interpretation of his character can basically be boiled down to “good with computers, terrible/abusive/neglectful bio parents with unreasonably high standards/expectations, child genius.” Like maybe critically examine your tropes before applying them wholesale is what i’m saying)

-readheads are an unrecognized minority and have historically been and are still in some places presently subjected to the same kinds of stereotyping, discrimination, and fetishization that recognized racial minorities face. The only difference is that discrimination against poc has frequently been legally mandated throughout western history whereas that against redheads has been largely (though not exclusively) cultural. Think for a minute about how many redheaded characters have been replaced by black actors in live action adaptations in recent years and understand that redheads have been on-screen shorthand for “acceptable token diversity” for longer than probably any of us care to think about and they are losing that status as black characters begin to take that place in widespread visual media. Race swapping the Gordons specifically, while pulled off extremely well by a beautifully talented actor in The Batman 2022, is actively participating in the erasure of redheaded characters, especially ones whose roles are more complex than “femme fatale” or “the spitfire,” (or both), from screen

I'm not necessarily against race-swapping hcs and whatnot, but I do think the Bat-Family fandom has a tendency to ignore the actual POC members of the Bat-Family in favor for their hcs, lmfao.

Like I've seen Asian Tim and Babs hcs and I'm like... you do know Cass and Damian are literally right there, you don't have to do that. 😭

[vanteguccir]

Thinking about boyfriend Matt that has a girlfriend that lives by herself and everytime she gests new forniture, she calls him like "Baby, can you come put this together for me? Thank you". I also think she would try to help and Matt would be tottally against it (not sure about this last part tho). Please write this.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤFURNITURE * MATT STURNIOLO

SUMMARY　::　where Y/N loves to buy new furniture for her home, and Matt is the one she always goes to to ask to put it together

FEATURING　Matt Sturniolo x reader

WARNINGS　::　none

AUTHOR'S NOTE　::　that is my work, I DON'T authorize any form of plagiarism; copy, "inspiration" or translation! | english isn't my first language, so I'm sorry if there's any grammar error.

Y/N had a knack for making her little apartment feel like home. Every few weeks, she'd spot something online; a new bookshelf, a cozy chair, or a quirky table, and decide that it was exactly what her space needed. But there was one catch: she wasn’t exactly a pro at assembling furniture. That’s where Matt came in.

The late afternoon sunlight filtered through the curtains of Y/N’s living room as she admired the large box that had just been delivered. It was a new coffee table, one she’d been eyeing for weeks. Knowing full well that she wasn’t going to tackle it on her own, she reached for her phone.

"Hey, baby." Y/N's voice was warm and playful as Matt answered on the first ring.

"Hey, dove. What’s up?" Matt replied, his tone softening at the sound of her voice.

Y/N glanced at the box.

"I got a little something for the living room. Think you could come over and help me put it together?"

Matt chuckled, already grabbing his car keys.

"Let me guess, another piece of furniture?"

"You know me too well." She grinned. "But yes, please? I promise to make us dinner afterward."

"On my way." Matt said without hesitation, already heading out the door. The thought of seeing her, even if it was to assemble something as simple as a coffee table, was more than enough to make his day.

About twenty minutes later, Matt arrived at Y/N’s apartment, greeted by her bright smile and the unmistakable excitement in her eyes. She stood in the doorway, barefoot and wearing one of his oversized hoodies; something that made Matt’s heart do a little flip every time he saw her in it.

"Thanks for coming." Y/N said, stepping aside to let him in. She watched as Matt eyed the box in the middle of the living room.

"Another project, huh?" He teased, approaching the box.

"Yeah, but I promise this is the last one for a while." Y/N laughed, knowing full well she’d probably find something new soon enough. She kneeled beside him, ready to help.

Matt quickly shook his head, gently nudging her hand away from the box.

"Uh-uh, you just sit back and relax, okay? I’ve got this."

"But I want to help!" Y/N protested, though there was no real determination in her voice. She knew he loved doing things like this for her on his own.

"No way." Matt insisted, his tone gentle but firm. He gave her a playful look, then tapped her nose lightly. "I can handle it. Just sit on the couch and look pretty while keeping me company. That’s all I need from you."

Y/N sighed, feigning disappointment, but the smile tugging at her lips betrayed her. She settled onto the couch, tucking her legs beneath her as she watched him. There was something incredibly comforting about the way Matt moved around her space, confidently taking charge of the task. His broad shoulders flexed beneath his shirt as he opened the box and started laying out the pieces.

"How do you even know what all these parts are?" Y/N asked, genuinely impressed as Matt made quick work of organizing the screws, panels, and tools.

Matt shrugged, flashing her a grin.

"Just good at following instructions, I guess. Plus, it’s kind of fun."

"Fun?" Y/N echoed with a laugh. "You’re putting together furniture, not playing a game."

"Maybe." He said, glancing over at her, his eyes full of warmth. "But it’s for you, so that makes it fun."

Her heart swelled at his words. Watching Matt carefully assemble the table, piece by piece, she couldn’t help but feel a deep sense of gratitude. It wasn’t just about the furniture; it was about the way he cared for her, the way he was always there to help without a second thought. It was the little things, like how he’d insist on doing the heavy lifting, or how he’d make sure every screw was tightened perfectly so she wouldn’t have to worry about anything.

After a while, the coffee table began to take shape. Y/N couldn’t resist getting up and kneeling beside him again, pretending to inspect his work.

"Looks good." She remarked, trying to keep her tone serious.

"Of course it does." Matt said with a chuckle. "I’m a professional."

She leaned in closer, teasingly brushing her fingers against his biceps.

"Maybe I should double-check, you know, just in case."

Matt rolled his eyes, but his smile was wide.

"If you want, but I guarantee it’s perfect."

Y/N gave him a look of mock suspicion before placing a soft kiss on his cheek.

"I trust you."

Matt’s hands paused for a moment, his eyes flickering to her with a mix of affection and pride. He reached out, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.

"You better."

With the table finally assembled, Matt stood up, stretching his arms above his head, his pink shirt riding up slightly, displaying his tummy to Y/N’s eyes.

"Done." He announced, stepping back to admire his work.

Y/N clapped her hands together, genuinely impressed.

"It looks amazing, baby. Thank you."

"Anything for you." Matt replied, his voice sincere. He watched as Y/N excitedly placed a few decorative items on the table, her eyes lighting up at how perfectly it fit into her living room.

"Okay, now that you’ve put that together…" Y/N began, trailing off as she looked at him with a playful smirk.

Matt raised an eyebrow, sensing where this was going.

"Oh no, what else did you order?"

Y/N laughed, wrapping her arms around his waist and leaning her head against his chest.

"Nothing… yet."

Matt shook his head, smiling down at her.

"You’re lucky I love you."

"I know." Y/N murmured, looking up at him with pure adoration. "And I’m so lucky to have you."

© vanteguccir

[boxturret]

Mata Nui, The Great Spirit

Hello, how do you feel about painting legoes? I think its fun.

Read on to see the terrible, unethical building process.

Many crimes were committed and I will likely be put to death soon.

Recently I completed quite a large project, painting this huge model kit of the Great Spirit Mata Nui. The kit in question is GiiKei's really impressive build, the instructions of which you can purchase here:

I was quite happy to see they cited my 3d model as reference, along with the original ideas submission. Fun fact: I really liked that ideas submission and made an account just to support it, but something about the proportions never sat right with me, and it was one of the things that motivated me to make that 3d model! So its fun to see it get used in the creation of another model :) And now here I am building it. Full circle.

Now, full disclosure, this is made from third party parts, I did test it on bricklink and it would have easily doubled the price, even before shipping from about half a dozen international stores. I kinda just bought this on impulse, it was pretty cheap and on sale and it was a gamble it would come at all really. But a week ago a nondescript bag came and inside it were sixteen hundred parts of honestly pretty good quality.

I think a couple parts used weren't in their parts catalogue so they had to be 3d printed, but even these were pretty acceptable. Actually in a way some parts were better, because this flame piece was pure red, instead of a mix of red and yellow as all branded parts are.

Some bits had a bit of a tight fit, and I drilled out the middle of the pistons, but I would have done that anyway to accommodate the painting. All in all, really good, was only missing one non essential part.

You can debate the ethics of stuff like this, but either I bought the instructions and paid a company in china X for the parts or I bought the instructions and paid a bunch of unrelated people X*2 for the parts, either way the creator gets the same amount. And I can say I wasn't going to build this off bricklinking parts. For various reasons I'm kinda done with bricklink*.

So after quite a few hour's work I had this lovely fellow. I must say, the design is quite good, its well articulated and has a lot of good build techniques. The head is both the strongest and the weakest part really.

I love the eye assembly, its built to allow for lighting, but it also cleverly includes natural light piping, and the kit comes with 4 sets of eyes, trans red and green for lighting and solid green and pink for display. Even has a little wrench to help swap out the parts.

On top of all of this the mouth is even articulated! So much shoved in such a small package. Unfortunately it does come at a cost, as its incredibly unstable. its a lot of 1 stud wide assemblies held together at odd distances with bars. I think the end result looks good, but its so easy for it to fall apart or get misaligned

Which is why, the instant I finished building this I decided to take it apart again and go at it with a tube of glue.

I glued large parts of this model together. I would happily do it again.

I'm not even going to hide behind any sort of "oh it wasn't real legoes so its fine" excuse, I would have 100% done this with "real" parts. Same with the painting really, I'm sick and tired of hiding behind the excuse that its acrylic so it can wash off, yes, technically, but it would take so much effort and the paints would probably stain some of the parts anyway. If something can benefit from paint or glue I'm not going to hold off just because the parts have a certain company's name on them. They're not sacred.

I can just use mineral spirits to undo everything anyway.

From the moment I saw the original ideas submission I knew: I wanted to paint it.

The GSR is a massive robot that's lain on the bottom of the ocean for millennia, and it reflects that with how dirty and rusty it is, its such an important aspect for me. And personally I quite like painting rust. It seems to be something I end up doing quite a lot.

So basically over the next couple of days I glued everything I felt needed glue, separated the model out in to several chunks, and then began painting.

First I primed it.

Then I did a black wash.

Then I started painting on the rust!

And then I realised I'd made a terrible mistake and redid everything.... Basically I kinda overestimated how much the black wash would fill in the nooks and crannies of the parts, so starting with a light primer base coat meant I was spending an inordinate amount of time trying to fill in all those little gaps and it was taking forever. So I made the correct decision of giving everything a coat of black paint first, and THEN moving on to the rust.

And after that everything went super smooth. Its really important to be open to admitting you made a mistake, and even if it will take more time its for the best to just start over.

For the bits of silver I used a similar technique to how I applied extra streaks of rust to my infected masks. It was a very enjoyable process.

After a quick coat of varnish and a day left to sit everything could go back together!

This guy is massive, around 50cm tall.

The back of the legs is by far the most interesting part of the model.

I especially like these movable pistons.

I did attempt to protect the light piping, and was somewhat successful.

The model is really poseable while at the same time feeling quite stable. Every joint in the legs is doubled. One thing I think is lacking is the ability for it to splay the arms completely out. But I can forgive it since, as I learned when rigging the 3d model, the arm pistons...don't really allow it. And the fact that this model actually has working arm pistons is much more of a positive in my mind.

In any case, you can just remove the pin holding the arms in and do it manually.

You may have noticed my old Mata Nui Island 3d print along with all the parts earlier. Well by some weird coincidence, they kinda match up proportion wise, ie the mouth and eye are roughly at the right places to be under the volcano and bay, respectively.

So that was a happy accident, and now I have a good way of showing how big the GSR is compared to the island.

Its big. And this is the logical size, not the insane 40000000000000 foot number thrown about by some. I have a series of posts about the various sizes of things because I find it interesting.

So in summation, I really couldn't be happier with this. The model design was great, I had a fun time painting it, and now I have a GSR model the size of a small child to display somewhere in my room. I've long been thinking of 3d printing my model, but this has really reduced my need for that. Also with recent duck related developments I've been made aware of how woefully inaccurate my model really is, and have to redo it at some point.

I have reached the maximum number of images per post. I might make a gallery post later. Good night. Have a nice weekend.

*come to bricklink and pay hundreds of dollars for the privilege of getting a smashed mask in the mail. And don't you dare expect a full refund. Not a single part in this kit was damaged and it came in a bag! You can see this guy lying in the background of some shots.

[thaltro]

Was there an in-between point of passive! Nightmare’s normal face and Atrophy’s…yknow…. Like, how Atrophy eyeball??

(I’ve been thinking too hard about how Nightwatch versions of crossmare errormare or killer mare shipkids would look like because the design style for is au is just too interesting not to, but there’s the issue of how the hell to project how alien Atrophy looks onto a ship kid. Like, with how cross’ scar is longer and across his face maybe nightwatch incubux would have a row of the “teeth” (from the inside of Atrophy’s pupil) protruding out from across his face. Or a nightwatch tenpatch would have the inside of their left eye have the same design as Atrophy’s face hole.)

Here’s the transition between passive and corruption for atrophy.

Also some of his common faces at the bottom but that’s extra unrelated art

Now Atrophy has no bones or ecto or anything he originally should have. He is just goo, very acidic toxic goo. So if he were to have a baby then that child would probably be incredibly chronically disabled because the goo would eat the organic parts of the child. Atrophy naturally is supposed to present more mold and fleshy like, he just over 700 years now has the resources and practice to shape his body perfect to how he wants it. But a baby wouldn’t so they would look like a uh,, body horror baby. Random sets of teeth in random facial holes and large cysts of painful acid. Small plant like mold growths on their face like whiskers.

An ugly baby most likely. If that baby grew up it would be interesting to see how it looks and develops it’s form.

More realistically Atrophy would kill it as he doesn’t like ugly things, or put it in a little jar in a display case.

Now for shipping

Yk i actually did not write nightwatch with ships in mind believe it or not (with some exceptions). So it was, surprising to say the least when a lot of people talk about ships and nightwatch in my asks. Out of the three ships you mentioned only one is possible? Errormare, but even then Atrophy doesn’t like poor people and they virtually don’t interact. Killer is a slave to Atrophy and Atrophy would rather eat another tree then touch him. and Cross is very much dead (or so how I originally wrote him, but it seems like alot of people want to see cross in nightwatch so uh I’ll consider his life,, I’ll probably bring him back so I guess he’s alive?)

But also in nightwatch, babies are sometimes made through divine intervention. So I guess if creators wanted to fuck with them they would bless the world of nightwatch with a mold baby. Which again atrophy would kill or jar.

Sorry if my reply is a downer, I do enjoy your ideas for design! I think atrophy’s children of they were somehow alive and survived the jar and atrophy- would be a good opportunity for crazy designs like scar teeth (great idea). If they did carry on atrophy’s scar then I think it would be a good metaphor for generational trauma as that scar is just symbolic of his trauma. Idk there’s many interesting ways you can take that and I’m happy you’re thinking about nightwatch.

I do encourage waiting for the comic before shipping because,,,, well there’s a lot of graphic abuse and torture between a lot of characters who are commonly shipped together in the utmv fandom (not just killermare but more). No need to feel bad about this though, I’m not upset and there is no way for you to know that!

Please keep thinking of nightwatcg it makes me happy and I can’t shut up.

[shopwitchvamp]

Despairing frustrated rage about tariffs, and only having bad choices ahead:

I've been avoiding making this post for some time now, but today in the latest tariff threats we're staring down the barrel of an additional 25% tariff being put in place on April 2nd for any country that imports Venezuelan oil. If it actually happens that'll put tariffs on Chinese made goods up to 45% (as far as I understand it at least..) and with that, we will have certainly passed the point that I can continue to just eat costs and hope to hold on until things calm down again someday maybe.

With that said we'll be facing a number of pretty much only bad choices in figuring out how to survive this.

A look at those and what might have to change soon under the cut-

I'll be at a decision point on April 2nd, if +25% tariffs happen on top of the 20% that's already in place. Here's the potential actions I'll have to take to keep the shop from crashing & burning within a few months:

1) Raising prices. Well it's obvious that this would be one way to deal with costs going up. Even if my costs are going up 45%, I can't exactly raise prices by 45% and expect anyone to want (or be able) to buy our clothes though. But price increases of 10-20% would have to happen to keep the business sustainable. This would look like mini/skater skirts going from $49.99 to $59.99 (+20%), midis/joggers going from $64.99 to $74.99 (+15%), and maxis going from $69.99 to $79.99 (+14%). I don't want to do this, I will not be making more profit from this (profit would still be down compared to pre-tariffs), and I don't expect it to be received well, but if tariffs are in fact that high.. I don't see any way around a price increase.

2) Not keeping D Size on hand / Additionally raising the price on D Size. So the first part of this, not keeping D Size on hand, already happens at times because certain designs sell so rarely in that size that I can't justify ordering D Size anymore. I always make it available during preorders though, and if any preorders come in for D Size then I'll always get at least a little extra of them (if nothing else than because I usually have to order more than what comes in for preorders to hit the order minimum). I will need to consider making this the way things work deliberately and all of the time because I can't afford the higher cost of D Size only to have it end up sitting in our inventory and not selling when it's on hand. To give an example, D Size skater skirts cost me nearly twice as much as A or B Size. I've been relying on things averaging out alright since I sell so many more A/B/C than D, but with the potential of +45% costs in tariffs it will make D Size so much more expensive that this no longer works. I'll be approching a point of losing money on D Size, and unfortunately the quickest way to lower my average cost is to not order D Size as often. For part two of this one, I could consider raising the price for D Size in the shop so that it's not affecting the overall cost average as much. It may come to that, but I don't think it's the best or most useful idea because I know it will not only upset people- it will also drive down D Size demand even lower, and when it's already the size that sells the least it makes it make even less sense to keep D Size on hand most of the time. So we circle back around to probably just making D Size available mainly during preorder & not keeping them on hand.

3) Purposefully scaling down. There's three parts to this one. One has to do with guest artists, one has to do with my partner, and one is just the scale of the business altogether. For guest artists- with tariffs cutting into profit margins I may end up at a point of not having much to pay them (profits are split 50/50) for their art or to pay me & my partner for our work. We were starting to plan another large collection including guests artists for this summer, but I'm having to rethink if it will be possible or if it makes any sense now. Projects like that might need to be put off until the situation changes. For my partner- my partner was able to quit his job in 2022 and since then he's worked with me full time on the business. If things start looking rocky enough, he would be looking at job hunting for at least part time IT work and pulling back on how involved he is with the business. For the business as a whole- I had a lot of plans in the works for new designs, new collabs, new collections, new types of clothing, etc etc. and all of that could have to be put off, slowed down, or not happen at all. Especially if my partner ends up going back to a "regular" job, I'd be looking at returning the shop to something more like how it was in the 2020-2021 era. Far less new releases, less restocks, keeping less inventory on hand, and so on. Because money/tariffs aside, I would have to go back to handling most things on my own and I can't operate at our current scale solo.

If you made it this far, thanks for reading and I hope I haven't instilled too much fear & panic. We are doing ok right now. We can keep doing ok for at least a few more months even if the tariffs happen. But I want to keep you all informed about what things my look like further down the line. It really sucks to have been doing so well and grown so much over the past few years and to have it all crushed seeminly overnight, but that's what we might be facing. I'll do my best to keep Witch Vamp alive even if it means going backwards to where it's more of a hobby level project and not a livelihood sustaining kind of thing. Then maybe in the future we can power back up when conditions are better..

And who knows, since things are so chaotic and uncertain there's always the chance we luck out and don't get hit with a bunch of this stuff. Right now chances are sounding slim.. but it's possible.

I'll let you all know how things are looking when we maybe know more on April 2nd. See ya then 🖤

[schlattslambo]

Not sure if you’re doing only smut, or a mix of fluff and smut, but maybe a fic where schlatt and reader have soft and sweet sex? Like maybe the reader is stressed about everything happening in their life and schlatt offers some comfort, which leads into soft sex. K thanks 🙏

a/n: ok i may have gone a bit overboard with this one oopsie, but i really hope you like it!!

—————————-

The house is quiet. For the most part. Your boyfriend isn’t yelling at his computer - mainly because he’s out of the house running some errands, the TV is off, and the cats aren’t chasing each other around the house and breaking things. The only sounds are a record player playing classical music in the sitting room and your breathing. It’s a beautiful fall afternoon, and you had just finished baking some cookies. It should be a relaxing day, but it isn’t. Despite the semi-quiet house, you can’t stop your racing thoughts.

You have so much that you could be doing, but you aren’t even sure where to start. You have projects that you need to finish, a few work emails to send, and you’re in charge of planning a trip abroad with some friends. All of this plus juggling your secret relationship. Schlatt is a very caring person, despite the persona that he displays online. He notices every slight change in your mood and can pick up on things that you don’t even pick up on yourself. And you don’t really care that your relationship is secret; it’s for the best.

But that does little to stop those thoughts. Things that you can be doing better, things that aren’t finished but need to be reworked. All of these things that need your attention. So, you decide to grab your laptop from upstairs and do some work in the sitting room. You curl up on the chair with a mug of your favorite tea and get to work. Your fingers are like a blur as you type on the keyboard, so engrossed in your work that you don’t even hear the door open.

“Honey, I’m home!” Schlatt calls, just as he always does when he comes home to you.

When you don’t answer right away, he figures that you’re in the bathroom or something. He calls your name, but still no answer. Okay, he thinks, no big deal, you probably have your headphones in. Then he spots the freshly baked cookies that are cooling on the counter. Shoving one in his mouth, he continues his search for you.

When he finds you, you’re hunched over your computer, eyes darting across the screen. Your work emails have been sent and the projects are at a point where they can be put on hold for the evening. Now, you’re stressing about hotel deals in the Netherlands. You’d already sent along a quote to your friends for the hotel in Dublin, so you just had to find three other hotels after the one in the Netherlands. You scribble down some information before a large hand is on your shoulder. You jump, but relax when you notice Schlatt standing there.

“What’re you doing, toots?” He asks, chewing on another cookie. “Great cookies by the way.”

“I’m trying to figure out what hotel to stay at when me and the girls go to Europe.” You grumble, tapping away at the keyboard. “I still have to find three more hotels after I get a quote from this one.”

Schlatt looks down at you with a smile. You’re always working so hard, and he loves that about you. One of his favorite things is your work ethic. You always manage to continue working no matter what happens. It also happens to be one of your biggest faults.

“Baby, you really need to listen to your own advice.” Schlatt says, running a hand through your hair. “What do you always say to me?”

“That you’re an idiot?” You ask, looking up with a smile.

Schlatt acts offended, placing a hand over his heart. “No,” He gasps. “Well, yes, but that’s not the point I’m trying to make! You always tell me to pace myself when I work. And it doesn’t look like you’re doing much of that.”

“I don’t have time to pace myself.” You counter. “We leave in six months. I have to get these hotels booked or else we’re going to spend a fortune.”

You turn back to your computer and Schlatt sighs softly. Looks like he’s going to have to do this the hard way.

“C’mon, (y/n),” He says, putting his hands on his hips. “Save your progress.”

He rarely uses your first name, but when he does, you know he’s serious about something. You quickly bookmark the page and close the laptop, peering up at him. Without a word, he scoops you up princess style.

“Hey!” You yelp. “Where are you taking me?”

Schlatt says nothing but walks you to his room. He softly kicks the door closed behind him and plops you on the bed. You look at him and cross your arms on your chest.

“Jay, I really-” Your cut off by his soft lips pressing against yours.

“Honeybun,” He says, using one of your favorite nicknames. “Let me help you relax, m’kay?”

His kisses trail down the side of your neck and all of your thoughts melt into a puddle that now pools in your belly and starts to warm. You nod against him but he pulls back.

“Words, baby.” He says sweetly.

“Yes, please.” You whisper.

“Such good manners.” Schlatt replies, attaching his lips to your collarbone while toying with the hem of your shirt. “Let’s get this off, hm?”

The two of you slip your shirt off together and Schlatt continues kissing you, pressing his lips further down to your chest. He pushes your bra down, then takes a nipple into his mouth. You shudder at the contact, goosebumps blossoming on your skin.

“Lay down, my love.” He whispers against your skin. “Let me take care of you.”

Without a word, you comply. You slip your bra off yourself as Schlatt kisses down your torso and to your waist.

“May I?” He asks, hooking his thumbs into your belt loops.

At your nod, your pants slowly come down, warm kisses pressed to your hips and thighs. His touch is so gentle and sweet that you think you may cry. When your pants come off, Schlatt looks up at you with a smile.

“God,” He breathes. “You’re the most beautiful thing in the entire world. How the fuck did I get so lucky?”

Schlatt expresses his gratitude for you ‘choosing to love him’ all the time, but somehow, this feels different. More intimate. His lips press against your inner thigh, making you let out a soft gasp. He slowly slips off your panties, licking his lips. Once they’re off, he gently spreads your legs, his thick fingers exploring your folds.

“My pretty girl’s all wet,” He smiles, sliding a finger inside of you.

You mewl, arching your back. His thumb finds your clit and rubs slowly, and he watches you with a lovesick smile on his face. His cock grows harder at the sounds your making and how your pussy clenches on his finger every time he presses just a bit more on your clit.

“Can I fuck you, baby?” Schlatt’s voice comes out strained as you look at him.

You nod and his cock twitches in his pants. No matter how many times he gets to fuck you, his cock always twitches at the idea. You’ve been dating for around a year and a half, and he gets giddy inside whenever he gets to be this close to you.

“How do you want me?” You ask.

“Missionary.” Schlatt says with a smile. “I want to watch your beautiful face.”

You adjust on the bed as Schlatt finds a condom, resting your head on the many pillows that litter his bed. Just like Jambo has his little feather collection under the couch, Schlatt has a pillow collection on his bed.

He climbs up, smiling at you with such love that your heart does a little flutter. Kisses are pressed up against your ankle, all the way up to your face. Schlatt presses his cock against your entrance, pausing to intertwine your fingers together as his forehead rests against yours.

“I love you so much.” He whispers, slowly entering you. “My beautiful, beautiful baby.”

“I love you too.” You gasp.

His movements are vastly different from when you two usually have sex. He’s usually sporadic and quick with sloppy thrusts and a grip that bruises. This time, he’s holding you so gently that he’s scared he might break you. His thrusts are slow, but have just enough force to them to make your eyes roll back. As Schlatt’s lips attach to your neck again, you let out a moan.

“That’s it,” He praises against you. “Let it out for me. You’re taking me so well, babydoll.”

Schlatt pulls back to look at you, and your eyes meet his. The way you look up at him makes him nearly burst. He continues to go slow, but his orgasm is approaching rapidly. He never cums first, so he needs to stop.

“Don’t look at me like that, baby.” He breathes with a smile. “You’re gonna make me finish too quick. This is about you tonight.”

You smile and sink your teeth into your bottom lip. Schlatt lets go of your hands and reaches down to rub your clit. This allows you to pull him closer and kiss him. The kiss is passionate, slow and intimate. It’s intensified by the shocks of pleasure coming from your clit. Schlatt adds more pressure, making you break the kiss.

“F-Fuck,” You whimper. “I’m close.”

“Yeah?” Schlatt asks with a smile. “You wanna cum for me?”

You nod and moan, looking up at him with those pretty eyes. He rubs your clit in circles and uses the other hand to gently caress your chest. The small action sends you over the edge. You grip Schlatt by the back of the neck and pull him down, your moans muffled by another kiss. He thrusts as you cum, chasing his own orgasm. Only a few thrusts later, he’s cumming as well, groaning into your mouth.

As Schlatt comes down from his high, you look at him with half-lidded eyes and a soft smile. He quickly disposes of the condom and cleans himself up, coming back to bed and scooping you into his arms.

“You’ve been working so hard lately.” He says as he runs a hand through your hair. “I’m so, so proud of you. You make me and the boys so happy. I love you so much.”

You smile and lean into his touch. “Thank you,” You whisper. “I really needed this.

Schlatt presses a kiss to your forehead and snuggles you until the two of you drift off to sleep. You don’t mean to take a nap in the middle of the day, but you also didn’t expect to make love at 3pm either. But as you drift off to sleep in Schlatt’s arms, those racing thoughts are gone. The only thoughts that remain are how lucky you feel to have someone so thoughtful in your life.

[tizeline]

So, in canon rise all of the turtles growing up know about how having Donnie's shell unprotected, probably from some childhood incident. And we can see in the show anytime Donnie's shell is bare; they all rush to protect him. How would they react to Donnie getting hurt because of his shell in this AU? What do they think of his battle shell? I assume they don't even really register Donnie as a softshell turtle because of his battle shell. Would this add to Raph's whole overprotective big brother instinct thing he gets because he catastrophizes Donnie's whole situation.

Also during the finale, we see that the lair gets trashed and has a huge cave in. So obviously Splinter, Donnie, and Sheldon would need to find a new place to live. Would the Drax fam help them build a new home? Are we going to see Donnie's reaction later to his home being destroyed, because losing your childhood home and your safe space must be awful. So, to maybe add a cute little twist, would Donnie, Splinter, and Sheldon live with the Drax fam for a little while?

Another thing, since Leo is obsessed with Sonic, Donnie should totally be obsessed with Wicked the musical. Another green person who sings on Broadway with similar themes of being outcasted and caring about how other people perceive them and using that perception to base their own self-worth, and she's also ostracized from society? Elphaba is written for Donnie. Donnie's theatre kid heart is an Elphaba stan and no one can convince me otherwise.

Donnie's brothers are very protective of him in this AU largely because he was separated from them for such a long time and they're afraid of losing him again. That being said, I think him having a soft shell also fuels this overprotectiveness. They do know that he is a spiny softshell before reuniting with him, Draxum told them about it, and that very much reinforced the whole "helpess victim in need of saving" type view they already made up in their imaginations of Donnie. (Not only is he in the clutches of the evil humans, but he's even more vulnerable than his hard shell brothers!) And remember that Donnie's battle shell in the AU isn't really armour the way it is in canon, it's main function is as a jetpack and maybe, like, a backpack (it has storage space). It doesn't cover the lower half of his back, so his soft shell is still visable and as such vulnurable. Donne getting hurt because of his lack of armour (biological or technological) would definitely freak his brothers out even more, but they're already pretty careful with him honestly.

Anyway, you are completely right about Donnie, Splinter and Shelldon moving in with the Draxums when their home in the sewers is destroyed XD It's kinda awkward, but at that point the Draxums and the Hamatos have learned to get along a lot better. But yeah, losing his home is very hard for Donnie, he's definitely the type of person who doesn't deal well with sudden big changes like that. I do wanna depict this part of the story eventually, but it's probably gonna be a while until then.

And god yeah, Donnie is ABSOLUTELY a huge fan of musicals lmaooo! He acts so overdramatic and theatrical all the time and the show makes it clear several times that he loves music so yeah, total theater kid. I haven't actually seen Wicked so I can't really meaningfully comment on the concept of him being a fan of that specific musical, other than omg yes Elpheba being an outcast and also GREEN he totally projects onto her.

[sageshouldknowbetter]

So… what are those weird “twin” beings?

In my opinion, one of the terrifying parts of Severance S2E4 was when those Mandela Catalog analog horror-type… things showed up to point the way for the refiners. (This whole episode seems to be pretty inspired by analog horror. I was half-convinced that at the beginning, Mr. Milchick was going to turn into a distorted police sketch captioned “The Milker 😈😱” or something.)

So… what’s their deal? I’m going to explain why I believe they’re not clones, actors, or robots… but something else altogether.

First, they don’t have coats. The twins are outside in an extremely cold climate, standing there for who knows how long, and they don’t. Have. Coats.

If they were really clones (or even hired actors), wouldn’t they need to be warm too? Why would Lumon risk damaging what they undoubtedly worked so hard on (or popsicle-ifying an employee) by dropping them in a freezing climate with no protection?

Some clone truthers would argue that maybe the clones can’t feel pain or sensations yet. They’re not finished: maybe fixing their brains is what MDR is working on. But I find the idea that they are somehow super-resistant to weather a bit harder to swallow. And while the innies are at least smart enough to avoid danger and seek safety, a clone unable to feel pain and with a half-formed brain would have no self-preservation instinct. They might be curious about what happens when they insert a stick between their ribs or go cheerfully gallivanting off a cliff like some kind of suicidal Roomba. Boom. Millions of dollars down the drain.

And there’s another thing they don’t have: footprints. Lumon-hired actors have footprints. Robots have footprints. Clones would have footprints. But the doppelgängers… don’t.

For the clear shots of shadow Helly and shadow Mark, we just see them appear with no tracks to show how they got there. We don’t even hear boots crunching in snow. The only explanations are a) Lumon somehow shot them up to the surface on a Hunger Games-style platform (implying that the ORTBO wasn’t actually outside), b) they got some poor guy (probably Milchick) to hurriedly cover up the footprints as they made them for Maximum Creepy Effect, or c) whatever these things are, they’re not corporeal.

I’d vouch for the latter. Because no matter how dramatic Lumon is, I really don’t think they’d spend THAT egregious an amount of money for a bit of extra goosebumps.

So, then… what are they? I’d say some kind of hologram or Lumon-approved hallucination.

I don’t think the ORTBO actually took place outside. There are many reasons for this. The TV at the beginning and the theremin needed to be plugged into something, there was a large room on Petey’s map called “team-building,” Milchick’s walkie-talkie range would be too small, it’s too risky for Lumon to ask outies to shut off their brains for multiple days in the middle of nowhere… and Lumon wouldn’t actually let the innies outside. Not because it would be dangerous for them, necessarily — but because it would be dangerous for the company.

Lumon doesn’t actually need to take them outside. They don’t want to cause a potential PR scandal from the outies talking about the “work retreat” or risk one of them running away. All they need to do — the whole purpose of the ORTBO — is to make them think the outside world is a terrible place and never want to go there again. The cold is real. The hunger is real. The danger is real (to an extent). But the environment… is not real.

So they can project holograms. They can power the TV and theremin. Milchick can remove the Glasgow BLOCK (the term “block” implies Helly WOULD have usually appeared but was blocked from doing so, and the only place that could happen is the severed floor). They make some basic holograms clearly based on the MDR group picture and boot them up. They don’t need to be realistic. All that matters is the message gets across.

Now all that’s left to wonder is: if Mark and the team were surprised at this team-building, that implies that they’ve never done it before. So how did Petey find it and map it? And why was one of the twins behind Mark in S2E1? We might never know.

[space-mango-company]

Stranger | Chapter 5

← CHAPTER 4 | ✦

TW: Descriptions of Violence, Mentions of Cannibalism

Tags: Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen x Atreides!Reader, Arranged Marriage, POV Second Person, No use of y/n, Original Characters, Canon What Canon

Word Count: 2.3k

A/N: Not proofread!! Holy moly. Here it is, folks. The scene that inspired this whole fic. I had fun writing this so I really hope you enjoy it. Once again, I appreciate everyone who likes, comments, and/or leaves kudos so much. I really started this fic for myself but good golly, that dopamine rush whenever I get a notif might be more addicting than spice. I'm glad to be part of the bald man brigade.

Also, I can't believe I'm only now questioning why I decided to write this in the second person? I guess maybe I thought this fic would be a lot shorter and not that deep, lol. At this point 'y/n' probably has enough personality to just be a straight-up OC. It's funnier because I don't even find second-person or y/n fics any more engaging either. I always detach myself by giving 'y/n' her own name and only seeing her as a character in the fic.

ANYWAY, sorry to ramble. Stay safe and have a good one, ya weirdos.

You step out into the dark cul-de-sac of the guest hall, illuminated only by the large suspensor lamp in the middle. Feyd-Rautha looks you up and down, seemingly entranced by how the dim light casts his shadow on your modest dress. Atreides green, he recognized.

"Trying to sneak into my rooms again?" you say arms crossed, leaning on your door. "I didn't appreciate the last time, by the way."

"It's my house," he says cooly, "and I did knock this time."

You stare at him indifferently.

"Quite the display from you yesterday morning, using The Voice on me." His voice low and raspy, "I should have you drawn and quartered."

You scoff in his face. "You almost choked me to death. Are you trying to start a war?"

He takes a step closer and his face is inches from yours, you can feel his breath on your cheek, "I didn't think I'd like you this much, little hawk."

"What do you want, Feyd-Rautha?" you had no patience for him right now.

"Ah," he steps back, a dark smile on his face, "I've been waiting to hear my name from your tongue." His hand reaches for your lips. "I've grown quite tired of 'na-Baron'."

You grab his wrist before he can touch you. "If you're only here to toy with me, I would rather be left alone to prepare for bed." You release his hand and turn to open your door.

Feyd-Rautha props an arm against the doorway to block you. "We're to be married in three days," he says, "and I just can't seem to bring myself to let go of my 'harpies', as you called them." He meets your gaze. "You said you'd kill them. Did you mean that?"

You look up at him with steely eyes. He towered over you but your heart felt no fear, "Yes."

His coy smile returns. "Good. Come to my training hall tomorrow," he says, walking away.

"What?" you call after him.

"Dress to fight," he says over his shoulder. "I want to see what you can do, Atreides."

You needed no help from Zora in putting on a loose shirt and long pants. The plain beige outfit certainly wasn't as elegant as the dresses you had been wearing so far. But it was comfortable and you could fight in it, which was all that mattered. Still, you look yourself in the mirror. The soft, airy fabrics draped over your figure well but perhaps you were not in the best shape as you once were. Your muscle mass is much less than your brother's and he wasn't particularly built himself. You admit you did wane off your training sessions with Gurney and Paul leading up to your departure from Caladan. Nevertheless, you were still a skilled warrior. Another secret you've been keeping from the Harkonnens.

You were 14 when you started learning the blade. Watching Paul, 2 years your senior, practice with the Atreides Warmaster lit a fire in you. You didn't hesitate to pester your father to let you train with them and of course, there was nothing he could deny his darling daughter. You were a fierce and determined student. Gurney Halleck was a man you genuinely believed to be one of the best fighters in the Imperium, along with Duncan Idaho. Gurney would train you and Paul on even days. On odd days, your mother would teach you the Weirding Way. These lessons, much like the rest of your mother's teachings, your father wanted to know nothing about. After becoming decently adept at Prana-Bindu and gaining almost complete physical control of your body, Lady Jessica insisted that you also be skilled in the Bene Gesserit style of combat.

You were far from mastery in either but the combination of both trainings made you a formidable fighter. Despite this, you could never seem to beat your brother in a sparring match. A fact that frustrated you to no end, though you appreciated that Paul never went easy on you. You'd always blame it on him having trained for longer than you have. But in truth, you knew there had just always been something special about him.

"Are you ready, my lady?" Zora's soft voice wakes you from your thoughts.

"Hm? Right. Yes, let's go." You quickly tie your hair out of the way and grab your father's dagger from atop your dresser.

There was no fanfare when you entered the hall. On one end, the na-Baron's concubines sat chained on the steps of the shallow recessed pit in their leathers, their glares piercing through you. Your eyes linger on them as Feyd-Rautha and his Warmaster greet you.

"I was starting to think my lady bride was bluffing," Feyd-Rautha says as you approach him. The older man beside him offers you a polite bow.

"Perhaps she wasn't so keen on your brutish games," you bite back. "Your lord uncle won't be joining us?"

"No," Feyd-Rautha crosses his arms, "but he'll be hearing about your victory. Or your demise."

"Right. Well, I assume you'll be releasing them from those chains," you nod towards his pets "Not sure why they're necessary."

"Oh, trust me, little hawk. They're necessary." Feyd-Rautha motions to a servant.

"Your blade and shield, my lady," they bow, presenting you with a knife and a small device you recognize as a Holtzman shield.

"I've brought my own," you unsheath your father's dagger. You contemplate taking the shield but remembering that the na-Baron forwent it during his gladiator fight, you decide to do so as well. "They've no weapons anyway, the shield seems pointless."

Feyd-Rautha shrugs, "If you insist."

You take a deep breath, "Let's get this over with."

You lightly stretch as you walk down the steps of the shallow pit to stand opposite the na-Baron's concubines. You had come into this on the pretense of righteousness. For Iassa, you told yourself. But you've known her a mere two days. A part of you wanted to show off. You were good and you knew it. You could probably kill anyone in this room, even Feyd-Rautha. You craved the respect of the people here: the Harkonnens, the people of Geidi Prime. You figured this was one way to get it.

Feyd-Rautha walks around the pit to one of his concubines and kneels to whisper something in her ear. You assume a fighting stance when he moves to release her from the chains. When you meet her eyes, they are filled with feral bloodlust.

Suddenly, you weren't so bold. The veil of courage you have maintained since you arrived, even when Feyd-Rautha had your neck in his grip, is torn apart when you face this woman. You could tell no part of her would hesitate to rip your throat out with her bare teeth. You were almost relieved they were unarmed, but you weren't sure if that would make them any less lethal.

Fear grew in your chest and you had less than a moment to recite the Litany in your head before the concubine lunged at you.

You crouch down in time and slash at her abdomen as she approaches you. You turn to face her on the other side of the pit and she wastes no time in attacking you again. She attempts to grab your armed hand but you take hold of her wrist first and move to pin it behind her back. Quickly, your blade drags across her throat and she falls to your feet.

The kill has not yet registered in your mind but your heart is racing. You can almost hear your blood coursing through your veins. You held your arms outstretched, your eyes focused ahead, ready for the next one.

Across the pit, Feyd-Rautha licks his lips, smiling as he releases his second concubine. This time, you walk toward her while she moves to attack you. You clock her head with the pommel of your dagger and knock her a few steps back. She reaches a hand to wipe the blood beginning to drip out of her nose. After examining it, she snarls and bares her sharp teeth at you. Your mind is blank now. She dodges your first slash then manages to land a blow to your jaw. You seethe from the pain. You spit out the mixture of blood and saliva filling your mouth. The anger at the hit drives you to rush at her. Seeing an opening, you duck down to her waist and stab her twice. As she falls to her knees, the look of determination doesn't leave her eyes until the very last moment.

When you turn around, Feyd-Rautha has already released the last concubine. The ruthless scream she lets out disorients you. She pounces and knocks you over. She straddles you and pins your arms to the ground, your blade sliding inches away. She screams again in your face at the death of her sisters. You wedge your right knee between you and her abdomen, the only thing keeping her teeth from reaching your throat. You grunt as you struggle to free your hands. In your periphery, you see Feyd-Rautha, wielding his own blade, take a step into the pit.

"GET BACK," you roar, and he is powerless to refuse.

You turn back to your opponent still on top of you and you butt her head with your own. She loosens her grip and you kick her off to hastily crawl to your weapon. When she reorients herself and attempts to grab you again, you hook a knee under her arm and flip the both of you over. With your weight on her chest and both your knees pinning her arms down, she thrashes underneath you, claws digging into your right ankle. You take your blade in both hands and her screaming is silenced when you sink your knife deep into her heart.

When you rise, the room is quiet. Your chest heaves. The stark white ceiling lights don't help the lightheadedness that begins to wash over you in the post-adrenaline rush. Feyd-Rautha says something from behind you but his speech is garbled as you reel from the thrill of what just transpired. You were electrified. You almost... wanted more.

Then, the realization of the revolting scene you are in settles upon you and you are knocked off your high. You look at the leather-clad bodies scattered around you, the grotesque way they lay on the floor, the red blood pooling around them made brighter by the sterile grayness of the room. You did this.

A hand on your shoulder snaps you out of it. In reflex, you turn and raise your blade at the offender.

Feyd-Rautha holds his hands up, "Whoa, easy, Atreides. Trying to kill me? Don't want to start a war, do you?"

You yield your weapon. Your eyes dodge his as you look to your feet and try to steady your breathing.

"Enjoy your first taste of blood?" Feyd-Rautha says, the look in his eyes indecipherable to you. He raises a hand and swipes his thumb on your cheek. It comes away covered in crimson.

You gasp and reach for your face with your own hand. You don't even know if it's your blood or theirs, or when it got on you. Your heart pounded, unable to decide whether you were repulsed or proud.

"Look at you," he says licking the red off his finger. You could not help but stare at him through the strands of your hair that had come undone in the fighting. "You're beautiful like this," his hand reaches for your face again.

"No," you say low and quiet when you swat his hand away, "you're sick." You didn't know if you meant him or yourself. You calmly turn to leave. No one stops you when you make your way up the shallow steps of the pit. As you pass Iassa—no, Zora—by the doorway, you tell her flatly, "Prepare a bath."

You had never taken a life before. Today, you took three. You were glad you didn't know their names. You decided you'd never find out.

After Zora pours a final pitcher of hot water into the bath, you tell her, "You may go. I'll dress myself later, thank you."

She bows and makes her way out of your rooms.

In your solitude, you bring your knees to your chest. You had been quick to wipe the blood off your cheek before you even reached your quarters. Now, you cup the water into your hands and rub it into your face, the slight sting of the heat comforting you.

He was a cruel man, your betrothed. This is what you've decided. Having you kill the concubines he claimed to want to keep so much. But wasn't it you who threatened to kill them? He started it, you argue with yourself, when he had Iassa killed. You felt like a child.

When you used to hear of Feyd-Rautha's exploits, you had to mask your disgust. And yet now, you had killed so easily in that pit as he had in the arena. What was this place doing to you?

When you left Caladan, Paul had never killed anyone either. You wonder if he ever does, would he feel the same exhilaration you did when you slit that first concubine's throat. No. Your brother was fierce but, like your father, he had a good heart. You beat him by three. You hoped it would stay that way.

You think about your future here, marrying Feyd-Rautha. Producing heir after heir under the Baron's watchful eye. You were a broodmare. Despite all your fancy training and education. Despite your little demonstration earlier. It was the bitter truth.

You missed home. You missed walking along the beach at night with your father. You missed your mother's gentle hands brushing your hair. You missed the banter and teasing with your brother. You missed Gurney, and Duncan, and the cold breeze on your balcony, and getting to roam free and going anywhere you pleased. When the tears come, you sink deep into the bath so they might fade away in the water.

← CHAPTER 4 | ✦

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[anonymousewrites]

A Not-So-Disastrous Romance (Book 2) Chapter Fourteen

Saiki Kusuo x Reader

Chapter Fourteen: Elderly Project

Summary: The other shoe drops with Kusuke. He just can't do things with honest intentions.

            “Kusuo, can I ask you a favor?” said Mr. Saiki, walking into the living room.

            “I have one for you. Turn around and leave,” said Saiki from where he sat reading manga. (Y/N) lay beside him, their legs slung over his lap as they read an Agatha Christie.

            “Could you take this to take this Kusuke?” asked Mr. Saiki, holding up a package. “This arrived from England for him. I forget to send them.”

            “He said you could throw them out,” lied Saiki.

            “No, he didn’t!” said Mr. Saiki. “He said he needed them now! Please, just teleport back to your grandparents’ place. I’ll buy you some sweets.”

            “Yare yare, that’s enough.” Saiki looked at his dad. “If you think you can keep bribing me with sweets—”

            “I’ll come with you so you don’t have to face Kusuke alone,” said (Y/N).

            “—you’re right.” Saiki took (Y/N)’s hand, the bag of supplies, and teleported out of his house before Mr. Saiki could say another word.

            They landed on a country road, and Saiki looked around to ascertain where they were precisely.

            “Yare yare. Teleportation is instantaneous, but why do we have to come to the middle of nowhere?” said Saiki.

            “Because no one sees you like this,” said (Y/N).

            “True,” said Saiki. “But I do wonder why he decided to live here. After a city, it’s a weird change.”

            “You don’t think he just wants to live with his grandparents?” said (Y/N).

            Saiki deadpanned.

            (Y/N) chuckled. “You’re probably right to worry. It is your brother.”

            A buzz filtered through the air, and Saiki and (Y/N) looked up.

            “Is that a drone?” said Saiki.

            “In the middle of nowhere?” said (Y/N), but they could clearly see the drone flying closer.

            “Intruders detected,” it said mechanically. “Facial recognition failed. Intruders detected.” Beeps sounded from it.

            “We’re leaving, right?” said (Y/N), sweat-dropping.

            Saiki picked them up, slung them over his shoulder, and ran. (Y/N) yelped and held onto his back. The strange drone continued to chase them through the forest as Saiki ran.

            “Why is a drone in a village full of old people?” said (Y/N), eyes wide as the drone pursued them.

            Saiki slowed to a stop when they arrived in the actual village. The town had been converted into a hyper-technological society. Holographic signs were everywhere, the doors looked like they came from a sci-fi movie, a suspended transport rail ranged between parts of the village, cameras were everywhere, and people were walking around in robotic suits or riding on segways. There was even a robotic dog.

            Saiki and (Y/N) stared at the village and the townsfolk. The place was unrecognizable. Honestly, it was creepy to see the change that had occurred over just a couple of days.

            “What’s going on here?” said Saiki, furrowing his brow and putting (Y/N) down.

            “What is this place?” said (Y/N).

            “Kusuke,” huffed Saiki. Undoubtedly, his brother was behind this. He turned and began to stalk off in search of his grandparents’ house. (Y/N) hurried after him.

            Their home was still there, but behind it was a large metallic building like a lab. Saiki went to a window and threw it open unceremoniously. He pulled himself up and in, reaching back to help (Y/N) up, too.

            Kusuke turned around in his office chair and smiled at them. “Hello, Kusuo, (Y/N). What are you doing here?”

            “We’re the ones with questions,” said Saiki.

            “Hold on,” said Kusuke, grabbing his headset before Saiki could read his mind. “Let me put on my telepath canceler.”

            “Why were you thinking about a tank shaped like a cat?” said Saiki.

            “A what now?” said (Y/N), tilting their head.

            “Don’t worry about it,” said Kusuke, waving a hand.

            “I feel like I should,” admitted (Y/N).

            “What happened to this town?” demanded Saiki.

            “Yes, it has changed, hasn’t it?” said Kusuke.

            “You’re behind this,” said Saiki, looming over Kusuke. “Did you mess with their brains or something?”

            “This change is indeed because of me, but I didn’t do anything to harm the people,” said Kusuke.

            “It has to be mind control,” said Saiki.

            “Explain yourself,” said (Y/N), putting their hands on their hips.

            “When I first got here, there was an old lady who couldn’t change her lightbulb,” explained Kusuke. “Her legs were weak, and she could barely lift her arms. Now, if you see someone in need, you’d want to help, right?”

            “Right, but what does that have to do with anything?” said Saiki.

            I knew he liked helping people, thought (Y/N), smothering their smile.

            “I helped her with a power suit,” said Kusuke as if making an entire robot suit was the normal way you helped people. “She was so happy.”

            “Why didn’t you just change the bulb?” said Saiki. “Stop giving these people weird ideas.”

            “I didn’t do anything wrong. Everyone is happy,” said Kusuke.

            “They’re all moody. Like teenagers,” said (Y/N). “Like someone I know…Who am I thinking of?”

            “Saiko, Nendou, and Kaidou because they’re idiots,” said Saiki.

            “Oh, right,” said (Y/N), brightening.

            “But new technology should be used by the elderly if anything,” said Kusuke. “They’re in need, and those are the people who should be helped first.”

            “I guess you haven’t done anything wrong,” said Saiki, furrowing his brow.

            “You don’t seem to be taking advantage of them like a lot of healthcare systems,” said (Y/N), smiling.

            “Kusuke, do you have a second?” The doors of the lab slid open, and Grandpa Saiki walked in wearing a robot suit from the neck down. “Oh, you’re here, Kusuo, (L/N).”

            Saiki and (Y/N) stared in shock. Cyborg Grandpa?!

            “I’m having issues with my arm controls,” said Grandpa Saiki to Kusuke.

            Saiki snapped out of his shock and grabbed Kusuke by the collar. “How could you do this?!”

            “What?” said Kusuke “obliviously.”

            “You made him into a cyborg?” said Saiki.

            “Calm down,” said Grandpa Saiki. “Look, Kusuo, it’s a lightweight power suit. Don’t worry. I’m still human.” Kusuo was worried about me!

            “That is a very low bar,” remarked (Y/N). “We should raise it.”

            “That’s still not fine,” said Saiki, glaring at Kusuke.

            “The suit really is amazing!” said Kusuke brightly. “He can lift 100 kilograms with ease. And he can run 100 meters in five seconds. And jump over five meters!”

            “Wow,” said (Y/N) as Grandpa Saiki performed each task.

            “Okay, it’s useful, but—” Saiki deadpanned as he saw Kusuke playing with a remote control with a gleeful smile. “You’re controlling him?”

            “Oh, that’s unethical!” said (Y/N) cheerfully.

            “Next, I’ll show you have a thirty-meter drop won’t harm him,” said Kusuke excitedly.

            “Cut it out!” Saiki grabbed the remote. “He’s not a toy!”

            “Are you okay?” asked (Y/N), kneeling beside the poor old man.

            “Yes, no problem. No problem,” said Grandpa Saiki.

            “He’s turning robotic,” said Saiki.

            “Have you seen your grandmother?” asked Grandpa Saiki. “She’s been missing since this morning.”

            “That’s right,” said Saiki, looking at (Y/N). “We can get her to help us stop this madness.”

            “Oh, she’s over here,” said Kusuke, leading the group back into the lab.

            “She’s back here again?” said Grandpa Saiki.

            “Grandma, Kusuo is here,” said Kusuke.

            There was a figure floating in a strange liquid within a pod. (Y/N) and Saiki stared in shock as it drained, and Grandma Saiki stepped out. She had far fewer wrinkles and was glowing with youth.

            “Good to see you, Kusuo, (L/N)! Thank you for coming,” said Grandma Saiki.

            “Are you surprised?” said Kusuke proudly. “This machine makes you younger.”

            “I feel like you’ve surpassed my powers,” said Saiki.

            “I feel like feeding into beauty standards is unhealthy,” said (Y/N) thoughtfully.

            “My grandma is going to side with him,” muttered Saiki.

            “I feel so much younger thanks to you, Dr. Kusuke!” said Grandma Saiki happily.

            “She’s even calling him ‘doctor,’ ” said (Y/N).

            “We’ll have to stop him alone,” said Saiki.

            “This town has gotten so much better since you came, Dr. Kusuke,” said Grandma Saiki. “You’ve helped so many people here. We’re all grateful. I bragged how proud I am of you.”

            “I should be thanking them,” said Kusuke, smiling. “They’ve been helping me settle back into Japanese life.”

            Saiki paused. “Maybe I’m overreacting.”

            “You think this is okay?” said (Y/N), looking at the strange lab again. Honestly, they thought Kusuke could be growing clones somewhere.

            “I haven’t lived with him in years. Maybe he’s changed,” said Saiki.

            “What about London?” said (Y/N).

            “He always competes with me, but maybe he’s actually helping other people,” said Saiki. “Let’s go back home and relax.”

            “What? Are you leaving, Kusuo, (Y/N)?” said Kusuke. “Didn’t you come here for something?”

            “Right, I forgot. This is from Dad,” said Saiki, holding out the forgotten bag.

            “Oh, that!” Kusuke smiled. “Thank you for bringing it.” His face turned uncomfortable. “Did you look inside it?”

            “What? No, I didn’t,” said Saiki.

            “What did that fool send—Oh!” Grandpa Saiki groaned as his arm raised abruptly. “My arm is acting up!” It slammed down and hit the bag from Kusuke’s hands.

            Fear crossed Kusuke’s features as the bag hit the ground and spilled over the floor.

            “I’ll help pick it up,” said (Y/N), kneeling helpfully.

            “No, that’s okay!” said Kusuke worriedly, but (Y/N) was already picking up the papers.

            “Project GBG?” said (Y/N), tilting their head. Saiki, Grandma Saiki, and Grandpa Saiki leaned over their shoulder to look at the booklet. Kusuke watched with a blank white face.

            The booklet read: “Use age reversing machines to turn a town of elderly people into deadly weapons to eliminate the target, Kusuo Saiki. Also, equipping them with power suits will further increase their combat potential. The age reversing effects are only temporary, and multiple uses will actually accelerate the aging process. Provide the elderly with the latest technology, and they will stop thinking for themselves. This will also help abate any resistance or fear when they become full-blown weapons.”

            Everyone’s jaws dropped open, and they looked at Kusuke in shock.

            Kusuke coughed. “Well. Sorry.” He shrugged innocently, ripped off Grandpa Saiki’s power suit, threw it on, and ran out the door.

            “Come back here, Kusuke!” cried Grandma Saiki.

            “My body!” said Grandpa Saiki.

            “Give me the controller,” said Saiki.

            “Is someone going to undo all the damage Kusuke did to the town?” asked (Y/N), more concerned about that than Kusuke escaping.

            Saiki sighed. “It’s up to me.”

            “I’ll make sure you get a lot of sweets,” said (Y/N) encouragingly, patting Saiki on the back.

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[savingcrxws]

EYES ON FIRE | maybe someday

[ prev chap ] [ next chap ]

synopsis. you and carmen just keep bumping into each other.

word count. 4.3k (gah damn)

warnings. language, hardly proofread again i'm sorry its an addiction

authors note. thank u guys so much for the support in these previous chapters! it’s really amazing to me that u guys enjoyed it so much! i would recommend listening to maybe someday by the cure for this chapter!

“Yeah, Sugar. The appointment is booked for Thursday, the reps will probably be coming in at like…three o’clock,” you mutter, flipping through the manila folder absolutely stuffed with documents and sticky notes. 

You pursue your lips at all you had to get done within this week alone–sign installation permit, permit to replace the hot water heater, permit to fix the ventilation systems, reapply for occupancy capacity signs because of the restaurants lack of other permits, and holy shit…

You completely forgot to schedule the follow-up appointment with the BACP consultant. 

You groan, slamming the thick folder into your forehead, the papers thwacking against your skull. Natalie sounds startled on the other end of the phone, no doubt hearing the sound on her end of the call. She questions if you’re okay, and you only respond with a gentle hum before tossing the folder back down on the office table. 

“Hey, Suge, do you think I can call you back later? I need to schedule a follow-up consultation with Raquel before another rep hops on my ass about the boiler replacement.” 

“Of course, hun, call me back whenever you can,” Sugar starts and you can hear some papers flicking in her side of the call as well.

You had managed to convince her to work from home more often, worried that all the stress from the demolition inside would affect her pregnancy and her overall wellbeing. After some back and forth, she had begrudgingly agreed to spend two days working on the project from the comfort of her own couch. 

And even though she complains still, you know she appreciates she has a little bit more time off of her feet. 

“Don’t work yourself too hard, okay, Bug?” 

You nod, even though you know she can’t see you. “Same for you, Bear.” Sugar hums once again before you both give your goodbyes and end the call. 

You expel all of the air out of your chest in a large puff as you slide down the office chair.

After signing onto Team Bear, your new home-away-from-home had been this tiny office in the back of the restaurant. For the most part, no one came in and disrupted your work, which allowed you to have your head shoved into piles of paperwork, be stuck on phone calls, and be forced to reread legal jargon for hours on end with little interruption. 

Well, as little interruption as there could be with the restaurant quite literally falling apart around you. 

Thankfully, everyone was very respectful of your work in helping the developing business. You were practically putting every ounce of knowledge that you learned from both college and the real-world experience (including connections within the industry) to help push the restaurant closer to the deadline. All the while still dealing with your other commitments to other businesses that you had prior to signing on to this project.

Staying at The Bear for eight hours a day had its benefits, though.

For example, there was always something entertaining going on in the background. Like last Tuesday, when Fak had decided to send a sledgehammer directly into the only remaining wall of the office–sending bits and pieces of drywall onto your clothes.

Another benefit of being stuck in that office chair is that you had an excuse to ignore everyone around you. And by everyone, you really mean Carmen.

After the awkward office run-in last week, the two of you hardly spoke to each other. Sure, there was the ‘hellos’ and ‘goodbyes’ that you threw to each other and the words you exchanged when you caught him up on the status of licensing, but you two had yet to have an actual conversation.

It was clear that the both of you were still walking on eggshells around each other—and everyone could see it. But you had an inkling feeling that Carmen had been wanting to say something, judging by the short glances you sometimes catch him throwing in your direction.

Kinda similar to the one that he’s giving you right now.

You feel the heat of his stare on your face before you see it. He’d been staring at you for a couple moments now, long enough for you to no longer consider it an inquisitive glance.

You peek up from the folder and make solid eye contact with Carmen through the hole in the wall. The man flushes almost immediately, the red color sinking past his collar. You purse your lips and give a small nod of acknowledgment and he stutters in his spot.

And then he’s turning away.

Like he wasn’t the one just staring at you a moment ago.

You roll your eyes and turn back to your original position in the seat. Picking the folder up again, you flick to the papers listing the requirements for the next fire suppression test.

“Men,” you mutter, before picking up your phone and making a phone call.

Three days later, the office is completely demolished and your work revolving around The Bear has been moved to a family-owned coffee shop two blocks over.

In the short span of time, all of the walls in the store had been busted down and the restaurant had practically turned into a hazardous wasteland. And since construction was too far out of your pay grade, you decided to leave the heavy lifting up to everyone else.

“Alright, permit done!” You throw your hands up in the air, your theatrics catching the attention of a couple next to you. You could hardly care for the stares, though, you had been working on getting that permit for the past four days straight. Slamming your laptop shut, you pack up your bags and head off to the cash register to buy another coffee before you go.

While you wait for your drink, you decide to scroll aimlessly through your phone to kill some time.

“Oh shit,” you hear a voice utter behind you, and you barely have time to process the word before something ice cold is running down your back. “Fuck, I’m fucking sorry, I didn’t even see you—“

You gasp on reflex, taking a step forward and shivering. The person who spilled their drink on you is stuttering out apologies. The liquid seeps into the jacket you were wearing and you pull it off immediately.

“Yo, what the fuck, dude,” you curse, watching the large stain of coffee spread even farther across your jacket. “Watch where the hell you’re walking—”

In the middle of trying to give the perpetrator a piece of your mind, you failed to recognize the familiar sound of the voice that was spewing apology out of apology. But in a second, your eyes met a recognizable set of blue and you halted your words.

In front of you stands Carmen Berzatto. In his signature colored sweater and a half-spilled cup of coffee in his hand.

And he looks petrified.

It seems he didn’t realize just who was the unlucky victim to his americano attack either until you turned around. His mouth agape, he utters out a jumbled apology, glancing back at you, your stained jacket, and the cup in his hand like his brain was still trying to understand what just happened.

“Uh-uh, fuck, sorry, I swear this wasn’t on purpose,” he rambles, placing his cup on the counter behind you and grabbing some napkins right after. He steps back towards you and shoves his hand of napkins to you. “Here, shit, I’m so sorry.”

You sigh, taking the napkins from him, noting the slight tremor that persisted in his hands as you did so. Taking in a slow breath, you close your eyes and count to ten before responding. “It’s okay, Carmen. Don’t worry about it.”

And even though you tried to maintain your peace, you can hear the annoyance seeping out of your words. Carmen glances around the counter before looking back at you and your soaked jacket. You know he probably wants to apologize some more, but honestly, one more apology might land him with a punch to the gut. 

Just as he opens his mouth, you raise your free hand, silencing him immediately. You shake your head in dismissal before taking the napkins offered to you and blotting the coffee out of the fabric of your jacket. Carmen simply stood in his place, watching you, seeing if he could do anything to redeem himself in this situation. 

However, after they called your name for your drink order, you dumped the used napkins in the trash, took your drink and hightailed it out of the café without one more word to the man. 

After the coffee shop incident, you swear that you started to see Carmen everywhere. 

You needed a quiet place to plan outside of your house so you went to one of the local libraries. Guess who’s walking outside the building?

You need a late night snack and decide to hit up the corner store. Guess who’s in the refrigerated section?

Hell, you decide to stay late at The Bear for some last minute checkups? Guess who forgot to grab a few things before leaving that night?

You swear that before you hopped on The Bear train, you never even saw a glimpse of the man. Sure, you lived relatively near the restaurant, but Chicago is fucking huge, there’s no way you would run into one of the few people that you’re trying to avoid. 

Absolutely not, apparently. 

Finally finishing up the weekly budget report and estimate for the following weeks till open, you decide to take a step away from work for a second and give your brain some time to breath. 

“Hey, Syd, if anyone needs me, I’m outside taking a smoke break, ‘kay,” you yell across the restaurant, receiving a thumbs up from her from the other side of the room. “Be back in 15!”

Reaching into your bag, you pull out a pack of cigs and a lighter before heading to the back entrance of the restaurant. You place the cigarette between your lips and head to the backdoor. Stepping out and around the alley to the designated smoke corner, you fiddle with the lighter switch, hearing the light sizzle but seeing no flames emerge. 

You groan, flicking the lighter again and again and still no lig–

“Umm, uh, you need a light?”

You scream, your heart almost skipping a beat and falling out on the concrete below you. In your alarm, both your cigarette and the lighter drop on to the ground. "Shit," you mutter and throw a glance over at whoever had scared the living shit out of you and, surprise suprise . . .

There was Carmen, standing in the alley a few feet away from the door. One leg was kicked up to rest his foot against the wall behind him and a cigarette hung loosely between his fingers. His eyes trailed across you for a second, then he glanced at the cigarette on the ground before taking another draw from his own and staring out the wall in front of him.

If you had half of the energy, you would tell him off for scaring the shit out of you and book it out of the enclosed space.

Lucky for Carmen, however, you really needed that cigarette.

Reaching back into your bag once more, you pull out another cig and walk slowly over to the man. Your steps gain his attention once again and when your eyes met you gestured to the lighter hanging out of his cooking apron.

He grabs the lighter and hands it to you. As you reach out to grab it, your fingers brush against his knuckles. Some quick thought in the back of your head wishes that that physical interaction lasted a little longer, but you're quick to shoo that away into the deep recesses of your mind.

Lighting your cigarette, you hand the lighter back to him before taking a drag. Blowing the smoke out, you slid down the wall until you could lean back into a squat against it.

The two of you just stand there, in complete silence aside from the occasional cough from an improper pull. This quiet isn't nearly as awkward as the first run-in the two of you had. Maybe it's because of the nicotine or maybe it's because continuously running into Carmen over these past days had subconsciously made you a little more comfortable with his presence.

. . .

Nah, it definitely had to be the nicotine.

You glance up at Carmen, who continues to smoke even though his stick had turned into a bud a while ago. You make note of the new tattoos that run down his arms and hands, eyes stopping at the rose flower tattoo on his left hand.

You remember when he got that one done with you at the parlor for his eighteenth birthday.

Subconsciously, you rub at the matching rose on your thigh before sighing and focusing back on your cigarette. Young, dumb decisions, you think.

Above you, Carmen watches your focus retreat back and purses his lips. In all honesty, Carmen usually never finishes a whole cigarette, but he really needed an excuse to stay out here longer with you.

These past couple of days had been tormenting him just as much as it had been you, albeit for different reasons. Everytime Carmen ran into you, whether it be in that cafe or that random grocery store that one early morning, he was plagued with memories of everything that he had fucked up.

Not just the relationship that he had fucked, but the happiness that he had stolen from the both of you.

And he had so desperately been trying to apologize, but every time you saw his face, you would get that look on your own. That dread, the anxiousness, that annoyance. That anger.

Whenever he saw that expression on your face, he would get too choked up to say anything of significance. A simple 'hey" would be all that would leave his mouth. Either that or he would stutter like he was a fucking kid again and embarrass himself in front of you like he seems to be doing constantly lately.

Carmen sighs, taking a final hit from his cigarette before stomping it out on the ground. By all previous experience, Carmen would book it out of the area by now, but something in his gut was telling him to stay this time.

Glancing down at you once more, he sees that you have taken to scrolling through your phone to kill the time. He bites the corner of his lip and decides to sit against the wall like you.

Instinctively, you toss him a questioning glance but when he didn't make any move to speak or gesture towards you, you shook your head and went back to whatever video had popped up on your feed.

Fuck it, he thought.

"I'm sorry."

You halt in the middle of your smoke, nearly coughing on the fumes but managing to swallow it. You look over at Carmen inquisitively, wondering where the hell that apology came from. The dirty blonde was wringing his hands, mouth opening and shutting as if he was trying to get the words out.

"Sorry for the, uh," he mutters, casting a quick glance in your direction to assure himself that you were listening. "Sorry for the, for uh-You know I didn't-I don't know how-"

"Yo, Carmen," you interrupt the world vomit that he was spewing, tossing your cigarette down before snuffing out the light with your shoe. You center your focus back on the man next to you, who seemed to only have you in his attention. "Just say what you want to say. No bullshit."

Your blunt words seem to ground Carmen long enough for him to gather his thoughts. He nods his head rapidly in that way he does when he's clearly overwhelmed before he clears his throat. He takes in a large inhale and clears his throat, ready to speak again.

"I want to apologize. For everything. For how much of an jackoff I was back then, and for how much I am right now," Carmen stars, eyes staring solidly into yours to show just how serious he is. "I didn't deserve you, and you did nothing to deserve the way that we ended."

You feel something burn the back of your throat at the mention of the end of your relationship. The total radio silence from him for the days prior, and just when you had managed to gather the courage to ask the question of just what the hell are we doing, Carmy, you were cast aside like nothing.

He was right, you didn’t deserve that.

Pushing back the feelings bubbling up in your chest, you nod your head to signal that you were listening.

"I-I, it's no excuse, but I was really going through some serious shit. And I really felt that if I cut everyone out of my life, I could actually get a second to breathe you know," Carmen pauses and you open your mouth to speak, but he continues. "I-I just know you deserved-you deserve better. But seeing you in this restaurant day-in and day-out, working away to help my sister, my crew--help me? I just felt even more like a piece of shit."

He turns fully towards you now and you can see his eyes turning red from the emotion he was clearly holding behind his words. "You didn't deserve what I did, and you definitely don't deserve to be cleaning up my messes now."

"You deserved the world, and I'm sorry I couldn't give it to you."

His last words send a sharp pang into your chest. Here you two sat, sitting next to each other, the distance between you two seemed to be filled with words unsaid. You stare into his eyes a little longer, at a loss for what to say completely.

On one hand, you wanted to reject his apology, tell him to fuck off and leave him alone in this alleyway. He would deserve it after everything.

But he has that familiar kicked puppy-dog look in his eyes and he's chewed his lip red, and he's actually sorry.

You sigh, leaning your head back to rest against the wall behind you. Staring up at the sky, you trace the shapes of the clouds above as you collect your thoughts.

"Yeah," you start, nodding your head to yourself. Carmen tenses up at the ambiguity behind both your words and your tone. He would have to have his own head shoved up his ass if he didn't realize that you had every right to refuse his plea for forgiveness. Frankly, that's exactly what he was expecting you to do.

"Yeah, okay. I can forgive you, Berzatto."

Carmen's heart sinks into his guts, mouth slightly agape in pure shock. "You-you can?"

You give a small smile, turning your head to face the man. "Yeah, Carmen, I accept your apology."

The dirty blonde opens his mouth again but you put a hand up in the space between you, effectively shutting him up for a second.

"But," you trail, "I'm gonna forward you that dry cleaning bill from that cafe, asshat. I've been trying to get that shit out for days now."

Carmen flushes a bright red at the mention of the coffee shop run-in you two had, a broken chuckle leaving his mouth at the obvious teasing tone in your voice. You were joking with him, for the first time in years, you two had managed to glimpse at the level of comfortability that you once shared.

Carmen chuckles again, running a hand through his curls. "Yeah, well, can I raincheck that until after the restaurant starts making money? I'm kinda flat fucking broke right now."

You giggle at the honesty behind his words. "Yeah, I ran those calculations by the way. Have fun being flat broke for at least three months after The Bear opens."

"Shit," Carmen mutters, a grin still on his face.

"Yeah, shit." You nod in his direction before pushing yourself off your crouched position on the ground. "Anyway, I'm gonna head inside to get back on that shit. Fak's fucking electric guy keeps flaking on us."

Carmen's eyes follow your form as you stand, holding eye contact with you when you glance back down at him. "Yeah, yeah, I should probably meet up with Syd for the chaos menu anyway."

He hurriedly stands up, wiping his hands on his work pants. After he finishes, he looks at you once again, noting the small smile on your face. For a second, he swears his heart skips a beat.

"For the record, Carmy," you play with the nickname on your tongue, having not said it in quite some time. Carmen flushes before nodding for you to continue. The small on your face falls for a second as you look at him. "You pull that shit with me again, I'm sicking the dogs on your ass. Seriously."

Carmen clears his throat, straightening up at the more serious tone of your voice. Although you were not nearly as angry looking at him as before, he knew that you were serious. There were no more apologies after this, no more fuckups.

You look at him expectantly, waiting for some form of acknowledgment.

He nods. "Yes, chef."

After the conversation outside The Bear, you and Carmen seemed to flow together much easier than before. Granted there was the occasional stray glance casted in your direction from the man, but overall, the two of you were on much more agreeable terms.

The rest of the crew seemed to notice the absence of uncertain tension between the two of you. You explained to Tina, Richie, and Sugar that you two had simply talked it out and were no longer on "spiteful ex" terms.

Richie, being the annoying man that he is, insisted that something else must've happened--to which you responded with a firm shoulder check and yet another middle finger.

Overall, the two of you seemed to only talk about business stuff, which made it easier for conversations to flow. Less personal, more concrete talks.

"Alright, Carmy, we got that certificate of occupancy, right?" You question, running down the legal checklist once again. When you heard no response, you asked again, only to be ignored again. Finally looking up from your screen, you glance up at the man, trying to figure out what could have possibly distracted him this time.

He's glancing, moreso glaring, down at his phone, watching it ring but making no moves to pick it up. He's spaced out almost, like he's lost in his thoughts.

You clear your throat and decide to try his name again. "Carmen!"

He shoots up a little and looks at you, muttering an apology out as he clicks his phone off and slides it into his back pocket. "What were you asking?"

"Umm, I was trying to see if you got that certificate of occupancy from Cicero mailed in," you raise an eyebrow at him. "You know, the one we need to get that other big, shiny certificate that shows that we can legal conduct business in the state of Illinois? That certificate?"

"Uhh, yeah, yeah. Mailed it in the other day, yeah."

You squint at his weird responses before shaking your head and diving back into your work. "Well, on another note, I've been speaking with a liason down at the office and he said we can have our second fire suppression test in two weeks instead of the project four."

Carmen walks up to the foldable chair you were sitting in, peering over your shoulder to look at your screen. He rests his hand against the back of your chair unconsciously and you can feel the heat of his body radiating off of him. You clear your throat and lean forward a little to get some distance between the two of you.

"Who's that going to?" The man points to an email that you are in the middle of drafting. Your eyes follow and land on the email you were writing to one of your school buddies. "Oh that? I'm just messaging one of my old classmates from college about an idea I had about our issues with that retail food license thing."

Carmen humms, peeking down at you as you explained the process you were thinking of going through. Though your eyes were stuck on the screen, clicking through different documents as you continued your explanation, Carmen's eyes were glued to your face.

To him, this all felt like some weird dream that he was having. His former high school sweetheart, sitting in his restaurant, talking all kinds of smart talk that he could barely understand, practically pressed against him. Although he didn't move over to your chair with the intent to press against you, he definitely noticed the proximity that you two shared.

Life had been a whirlwind these past weeks, but he felt that when he was near you that a lot of those anxieties he often has screaming in his head quieted down a little. He tried to chalk it up to the confidence that he had in your skills, but even though you are incredibly talented in your work, he knew that it was something more than that.

Something that he had to swallow down.

"Carmy, you motherfucker, are you even listening to me?" You call out, turning more in your chair and fixing him with an annoyed glare. Carmen swallows before nodding his head. "Ye-yeah, you have a plan to get that retail food license and alcohol seller's license at once right?"

You hum, giving him a once over again before turning in your seat. "Exactly. I think that my buddy Stephen can help us with that fire suppression test, he knows a thing or two--"

Carmen's eyes trace down your eyes, nose, and lips, noting the signature bite marks you left on your bottom one. He runs a tongue across his own before carding a hand through his hair to collect himself.

He was so fucked.

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[am-i-the-asshole-official]

WIBTA if I asked my boyfriend to kick his boyfriend out of our communal living situation and out of our polycule due to “incompatibility”?

submitted 5/22/2024 ~💔🌈🏚️<- to find

I (26F) am considering asking my boyfriend O (32M) to kick out his other partner/boyfriend E (36M) from our communal living situation and our polycule, because E is not compatible with either our relationship or the group as a whole. Here’s the situation: The three of us currently live in O’s childhood home (his parents died and he inherited it), along with four other roommates who are not in the polycule. All of us split the bills evenly, except for E because he was recently fired from his job as a mechanic, so he pays a much smaller amount, which means all of us have to increase the amount we pay in order to keep up. This would be fine except E is not looking for a job and this is causing financial strain on all of us. It’s a large house and it’s very old so it tends to need a lot of maintenance, currently we have to get the roof repaired because a section of it caved in during a snowstorm (that part of the house is roped off because it’s still not fixed of course) and just my luck, my room happened to be on the floor below this, so O has me sleeping in his room because he’s worried floor above my room may have rotted from exposure due to the caved in roof. This will be relevant later. Now, here are the specific reasons why I want E out of here (aside from financial strain):

Everyone in the house is part of the same religious group. We are a neo pagan group (details not necessary for this but feel free to ask questions, but just know that we have some agreed upon beliefs and practices that we’ve developed over the past three years) and many in our group, including O, practice witchcraft. E, however, is a hardcore atheist, and is condescending towards us whenever we partake in our various practices. O thinks that E can be persuaded to respect us and that it’s just a matter of time, but I do not think that’s probable. O is the elected spiritual leader in the house (one: because he’s held these beliefs longer than most of us and brought us together, and two: it’s his house), so only O can kick someone out for religious reasons. We can vote to kick someone for abuse, but nothing E has done is technically bad enough.

He should be kicked from the polycule because I think he is using O either for sex or to make up for something he did back when they were in a situationship. The past between those two is very intense because it’s linked to E discovering his identity and it was O’s first relationship. It ended very badly on horrible terms, but they decided to give it another shot for whatever reason. E had an intense vendetta against me from the very beginning and he thinks that I’m delusional for believing O is in love with me because when O liked E it was “very different”. E has his own bedroom, but spends most of the time in O’s room, typically to have sex. Sometimes they want me to join in with them, but I usually decline because I’m suspicious of E’s intentions and I do not trust him. The one time I did agree to join in led to my unplanned pregnancy. I also think E is cheating on O because whenever O leaves the house, E brings over his ex B (33F), and those two hook up (or at least I assume they do because they lock themselves in the bedroom for hours).

On the cheating note, E has been getting checks in the mail from B, but he hasn’t been using this money to contribute to the bills, but rather stashing it away into a “project fund”.

B is dating my ex A (28F) and I know B has been gossiping to her because A has been posting to her private insta account long rants about “another perfectly good lesbian turned by dicks and witchcraft”, which could ONLY be referring to me because as far as I know, she hasn’t had any relationships in between ours and her’s and B’s. She is radfem and tradcatholic so the statement isn’t a surprise, but she only started posting that stuff After B started coming over, and she was kicked from the house for being intolerant, so it’s odd for her to start ranting about me now.

I think it’s unfair that my ex was kicked out for intolerance while I was still dating her, even though I objected (it was a toxic relationship and I was in deep), but O hasn’t kicked out E despite E also being intolerant and dating one of us.